#it was just supposed to be an emotional thing. i thought it would look horrible but no! no im cute. im so cute. im the prettiest boy ever | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

aakeysmash · 8 months ago

Text

Tell me you love me

Pairing: f!reader x Sukuna Ryomen.

Word count: 2512.

Warnings: ANGSTTTTTT. An attempt at it at least lmao, let me know if I did a good job with it. A bit suggestive in the middle. Cursing. Mentions of cheating (mentions!!! No cheating in this house).

People often say that Sukuna would be obsessed with the reader/oc, but I think a relationship with him would be the hardest thing ever.

He doesn’t get the concept of being in love: at the start of your relationship he found out you were more tolerable than anyone else, he assumed that meant he liked being around you and went along with it. Of course he fell in love in the long run, but for him it’s embarrassing to admit it. He barely even said it when you asked him why he wanted you to move in with him.

It’s not like he isn’t obsessed with you: he’s obsessed with the way you just seem to get him, with the way you smile when he comes home from a long day at work, with the utmost kindness you treat people around you with and that he lacks completely. He’s mesmerised by you, by the curve of your hips, the brightness of your eyes, the softness of your hands on his body.

He doesn’t show it, though.

He’s used to being rough and redeems emotions as futile. Like he already said to you in a couple of your arguments, if you get him you get him, if not, he’s not explaining himself. Everything he does is thought of and automatically right, so why would he give you explanations?

But sometimes in relationships you need communication. He doesn’t see how intense it is to be next to someone who acts like he doesn’t care about what you want to share in your daily life. And again, he does care: if he could, he’d make a copy of you yapping and just listen to it on repeat while working. He loves how passionate you sound while talking about your hobbies, he finds the little tilt to your voice when you search for his approval adorable. He doesn’t see how difficult it is to be with him because he’s only been with you, and you’re so good at communicating and making him feel heard he doesn’t notice he’s not reciprocating your efforts.

And that means that he’s never the one who wants to resolve misunderstandings, because he thinks they don’t really exist. You were upset about your dish not coming out the way it was supposed to and instead of reassuring you it was still edible he straight up said it looked horrible and walked away? He’s not sorry. He spoke his mind, did he not? And why would you be sad about the truth?

You’re not weak, and you’re not shy either. Kind people are not necessarily stupid, and you’re living proof of that. He’d never be in a relationship with a weakling who doesn’t know how to raise her voice and stand her ground. You’re fierce in your own way, and you know how to manage his stubbornness 90% of the time. You don’t like being disrespected or ignored, and you made sure to talk his ear off whenever he did it. Not like he purposefully did it, anyway.

But as a person who understands emotions and feels emotions, sometimes being with him frustrates you. And it comes to a point where you debate on keeping being next to him or leaving him for good.

He’s not the only one who has hard days, but when both of you have one, the silence inside your house is deafening. You’re the one who usually starts up conversations, but your mind is occupied with other things. You’ve barely touched your food.

“What’s got your panties in a twist?” He scoffs at dinner. He doesn’t like you frowning, it wrecks his heart. It makes him want to destroy the face of whoever took the smile he lives for off your face.

You sigh. “You know how my parents said they were coming to visit us next month? Well-”

He’s silent. Fuck, when did she say this? He thinks. Probably one of those days where the thought of your thighs suffocating him all night plagued his mind last week. Fuck, he’d take a bite of them right now if you let him. Maybe he could suggest it. It could take his mind off of his own shitty day.

“Are you even listening to me?” You say sternly. He notices you kept on talking while his mind wandered, but he disregards it.

“Wanna fuck?” He asks instead.

You’re baffled. “Sukuna, what the fuck?”

“Damn, you could’ve just said no, brat,” he says rolling his eyes.

You get offended. “Don’t fucking ask me what’s wrong if you’re not going to listen to me.”

“Yeah yeah, you were probably going to talk about how worried you are and shit. I don’t care about that. If you don’t want to get my dick wet I’m going to rub one out,” he says waving his hand in front of your face and standing up from his chair.

You huff out a sarcastic laugh. “Are you serious?”

“Would you prefer me to find someone else to do it for me?” He bites, snapping his head toward you.

He sees you widening your eyes. If there’s a thing you don’t tolerate is cheating, or jokes about it. He knows it. He knows it, dammit. You’re fuming.

“You’re an asshole. Fuck you. I’m sleeping at Nobara’s,” you spit at him, grabbing the purse you left on the side of the table and rushing out the door, slamming it.

When he’s left alone in your shared living room, he keeps on looking at your front door. The silence is making his head hurt, the only thing he’s hearing is the sound of the door slamming. Did he overstep? Nah, you were probably overreacting. He shrugs and finally moves from his spot, going to put his dish in the sink. He leaves yours on the table, because maybe you’ll be hungry when you come home. You usually are after an argument. You’ll come back after a couple of hours saying you didn’t want to worry him too much, you’ll sigh saying this can’t keep on happening and that you’re tired of arguing, then he’ll hug you and everything will be alright. Just like it always is. You’ve never left like this, though.

He ruffles his hair; he’s angry at everything and everyone. You should’ve got that he’s the one overreacting, why didn’t you get him like usual? Why aren’t you still back after 3 hours? He hates feeling angry. He hates feeling tired. He hates feeling in general. Most importantly, he hates that the hands in his hair are his and not yours. He hates the way right now he’s craving your soft voice reassuring him in his ear, your sweet words covering him like a blanket; his head on your chest listening to your heartbeat while lying on your couch, reminding you that you’re there. You’ve always been there. There’s no one else for him, there’s never going to be one. He’d never cheat, you’re so stupid for getting angry about it. Why did you get so mad about it? Suddenly, he’s thinking about random stuff you said that he ingrained in his head.

I love you too, Sukuna. I’ll wait for you to tell me that without me forcing it out, mh? I’ll move in with you, sure, if you ask me so that nicely.

You picked this book because it reminded you of me? Thank you, baby. I love it. Both the book and the fact you thought of me.

Can you stop messing up my sock drawer? No, I did not hide your cigarettes there. But please stop smoking, I love when you taste like my lip gloss and not that disgusting shit you inhale. Give me a kiss so I can prove it to you. I’ll take your breath away way better than tobacco.

He smirks while on the couch, alone. You’re so cute. He wants to bottle up your laugh. Why aren’t you back still? His mind doesn’t stop, though.

You hurt me, Sukuna. Why can’t you notice?

I feel like you don’t care about me.

If I hadn't come to you, would you have come to me? Or would you just have ignored this whole argument and acted like nothing happened?

Am I just filling up a random space you leave open for a significant other or am I the significant other that’s capable of filling that void?

That night he dreams of you. The way you glared at him asking him if he was serious, almost like a warning before you lashed out. He dreams of the hurt that flashed in your eyes when he spewed nonsense. And when he wakes up, you’re still not back. Your unfinished plate is still on the kitchen table.

But he’s prideful, that’s why you’re the one that’s always trying to resolve arguments. Yes, you’ll come back. He’s sure of it. You always came back during the 3 years you've been together.

A week passes by and he's going crazy. You haven't contacted him at all, and he didn't text first. He lies to himself saying it's because he's leaving you some space, but the truth is that he's scared. What is he even supposed to say? Hey, I'm sorry, I miss you, please come home? That's pathetic. He's taking a shower when suddenly his phone rings. His heart skips a beat and he rushes out to check if it's you. Please, let it be you.

Instead it's Yuji, his brother.

Yuji: Hey, what happened with y/n? She asked me to come get some of her things for her. Is she sick?

Sukuna frowns. Then he realizes that- you're going to move out. You're going to break up with him.

He goes into panic mode. He never thought about the possibility of you leaving him. He thought you would come back, like you always do. Why would you leave him? Is it because you finally realized that you're better off with someone who knows how to express their feelings for you? Did you get tired of him? Have you already found someone else?

He finds himself knocking on Nobara's door in the next ten minutes. He ran, he's sweating and it's starting to rain. He's out of breath, and he gets his hands on his knees while he waits for you to open the door. He's not ready to let you go. He can't even fathom a life where he doesn't wake up to you trying to get warm between his arms, without you nagging him while watching a film together, without helping you bake cookies while laughing with each other. Without not being able to talk from how in love he is while looking into your eyes. And he knows that if you leave him he's never going to be able to live in his own house ever again, or walk down the street you always do together, or go grocery shopping and not thinking about you while looking at vegetables. You always said you liked vegetables and he always lied about liking them just to see you excited about cooking them together.

"Yuji, I didn't think you'd be this fas- oh," you open the door and your face falls when you see it's Sukuna. He snaps his gaze toward your face when he hears your voice. He missed it so much. You're so beautiful. He missed all of you. So much.

Neither of you move, you just keep staring at each other. This time, he knows he's going to have to talk first. For the first time, he realizes how hard it actually is to confront someone first. Do you feel like this every time?

"Come home," he says. "Please," he adds.

You look sad. "I don't think I'm going to, Sukuna. It's been more than a week and you didn't even reach out to say... I don't even know what. I know you don't say sorry. You never do."

Your words feel like knives. From where you're standing you're taller than him, and he has to look up to look at you. It's like he's in front of the pearly gates of heaven and an angel is making him confess all the wrong things he did, except in this scenario you're the angel and the things he did are just what he thinks about all of this. About you in general.

And you're right, he doesn't usually say sorry. The words get stuck in his throat and he just gapes up at you, still catching his breath. Pathetic.

You sigh, then go to close the door. You don't look at him anymore and he feels like he can't breathe, and not because of the run.

"I'll come get my things next week. Go home, you'll get wet," you say. And your voice is clear, you're not mumbling, you must have thought about this. He sees how hard you're clenching your jaw to appear resolute, your nails hurting your palms from how hard you're closing your hands. But you still manage to worry about him, worry about him possibly catching a cold from the rain. And he loves you. Fuck, he loves you so much.

"Wait," he manages to say. You look at him with longing. With sorrow.

And he feels like he's crying to the angel in his afterlife when he opens his mouth again, thorns in his throat getting tighter, suffocating him. But he doesn't cry here, in front of you, even if maybe you'd like it. You'd probably say that you appreciate him showing emotions, maybe tease him for it, but you'd like it. He'd kiss you while you're still laughing, saying you're stupid, and you'd continue laughing.

"I love you," he rasps out. The words feel so unfamiliar to his tongue, but so familiar to his ears. You always tell him you love him. "I'm sorry for being a shithead. Please don't leave me. I promise you I'll get better at this communication shit," he begs.

You still don't move, but he sees you getting softer.

"Go home, Sukuna. We'll talk about it when it's not raining," you utter.

"No, I don't fucking want to," he snaps. You're startled, and he cringes. He's really not used to all of this. He doesn't like scaring you.

"Fuck, I meant to say I want to get over it right now. I didn't want to scare you. I want you back, Y/N. Please, have me back. I'll get better for real," he says while getting progressively closer to you.

"You promise?" You ask, now shorter than him. You're a step of distance from each other.

"I promise, baby. I'll make you the happiest girl to ever exist," he tells you, looking at you intensely.

"Start by saying you love me again," you mumble, wrapping your arms around his waist and resting your head on his chest. He engulfs you in his own arms, inhaling the smell of your shampoo, then snorts.

"Sure. I'm in love with you, brat."

Being in a relationship with Sukuna is hard, but he loves you easily.

#sukuna jjk #sukuna ryomen #sukuna x reader #sukuna angst #sukuna x y/n #sukuna fic #jjk angst #jjk fluff #sukuna fluff #sukuna x you

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ellecdc · 9 months ago

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HIII, I wanted to know if I could request a poly marauders x festy slytherin reader.Something of how they started or whatever you have inspiration for.I would love another part of that, if you feel up to it. Hope you are taking care of yourself <3

feisty/slytherin reader x poly!marauders is actually my favourite thing to write (followed closely by any ship with whimsical reader) so I was more than happy to whip this up for you! Thanks for requesting! 🫶

poly!marauders x feisty, fem, Slytherin!reader

p1 // p2 // p3

CW: werewolf prejudice, making fun of possible birth defects due to Pureblood's being terribly inbred, swearing

Remus felt that generally, he was a very understanding person. And not just in a compassionate way, but also in a sense that he just understands a lot of things.

He understands Sirius’ need to defy his family whilst simultaneously looking after his brother as if his life depended on it.

He understands James’ need to make sure everyone around him feels as loved as humanly possible, even if it’s at his own expense.

He understands that Gryffindor’s hate Slytherin’s, but he also understands that not all Slytherin’s are horrible, prejudiced racists.

He understands everyone makes fun of Hufflepuffs for being soft and emotional, but he also understands that Hufflepuffs can be some of the most heartless, ruthless friends you can have.

What Remus has had a hard time understanding, however, was his boyfriends’ sudden interest in you.

Remus could admit that you were quite attractive, but you were also sort of…terrifying?

“What have you boys done?” Lily murmured in quiet horror (quiet awe if you asked James).

“We pranked Slytherin!” Sirius said jovially, as if Lily had somehow missed that key piece of information.

“I can see that, Sirius.” She said like one might speak to a small child who was quite dumb. “But on portrait day?”

Sirius smiled smugly as he watched Slytherin’s enter the Great Hall for their school portraits. As they passed through the door, they were unknowingly walking under a charmed mistletoe (which was very difficult to find this time of year, thanks James very much) which turned their green and silver robes and ties to a beautiful red and gold.

The best part is some students still hadn’t noticed yet, and another amazing part was that those who had noticed couldn’t figure out how to turn it back.

“Mr. Black, Mr. Potter, Mr. Pettigrew, and Mr. Lupin. I suppose the four of you have no idea who may be behind this prank?” Professor McGonagall challenged as she looked down her nose at them sitting at the Gryffindor table.

Sirius smirked as he responded “Why, not a clue Minnie. But I’ll keep my eye out and let you know if I see any mischief makers.”

McGonagall let out a long suffering sigh as she took five points from Gryffindor for improper address of a professor.

“You rotten dugbogs.” Remus heard you screech before he saw you. He had the good sense to cringe as you stormed up to their table whilst Sirius and James grinned enthusiastically.

“Why hello Y/N, my beautiful angel.” James greeted as Sirius let out a sultry “Don’t you just look smashing in red.” Accompanied by a wink.

“I don’t know what you sods have done, and quite frankly, I don’t care about the rest of them; but you will fix this.” You spat angrily gesturing to your faux Gryffindor uniform.

“But that would be such a crime, dollface.” Sirius lamented.

“You can’t expect us to mess with perfection.” James added.

You shot your hand out and grabbed James’ collar, pulling his face to yours until your noses were nearly touching.

“I swear to Salazar himself, Potter, if you do not change my robes back, I will cut your dick off and charm it to your forehead so you walk around looking like a limp-dick unicorn. Change. It. Back.”

Your voice was low and threatening, and Peter actually gulped as he hid behind Remus. But looking at James’ face pressed up to yours, you would have thought you had just serenaded him with the greatest love song known to man.

“You have such beautiful eyes.” He murmured in awe. Remus was certain he could see steam forming behind said beautiful eyes, but before it could shoot out of your ears, Sirius came to your rescue.

“Very right, Prongs. She does have beautiful eyes. Unfortunately, I believe her usual green does compliment them better than the red.” Sirius said lasciviously as he cast the counter charm to return your robes to their rightful colour.

You looked down at your form before looking back at the boys skeptically. You seemed only then to realize you were still holding onto James’ collar like a vice and dropped it. Remus almost chuckled at the look of loss that crossed James’ face.

“Right.” You said and cleared your throat, backing away from them as if you weren't fully trusting what just happened. “Thank you.”

Sirius’ head actually reared back in surprise at your thanks and James beamed.

“Anytime angel, truly.”

James’ pet name seemed to snap you out of whatever trance you’d been in as you narrowed your eyes at him. “Don’t call me that.”

“Terribly sorry, my love.” He relented.

You groaned in exasperation and carried on towards the Slytherin table.

“Isn’t she lovely?” James whispered in awe, eyes still glued to your form as you bodily shoved Evan Rosier out of what Remus could only assume you had dubbed as your seat at the Slytherin table and sat down.

“Try bloody terrifying.” Peter shivered in horror as he finally extricated himself from behind Remus.

“Oi! Don’t talk about our future missus that way, Wormy.” Sirius squawked and swatted at the poor sod with his copy of the Daily Prophet.

“Is he wrong, though?” Remus asked as he let out his own breath of relief.

“Don ‘t worry moons,” James murmured into Remus’ cheek as he pressed his nose into the werewolf’s hair line. “She’ll win you over soon.”

Remus wasn’t so sure.

You were the only Slytherin photographed in proper uniform that day.

A few weeks later found Remus sitting horrifyingly uncomfortable in Defense Against the Dark Arts as they moved on to the unit featuring Werewolves.

James sat on his right, and though the shaking of his knee under the table gave away his nerves, he spent the entire class rubbing soothing circles along the back of Remus’ hand with his thumb.

Sirius, sitting on Remus’ left, was incredibly stiff and clearly poised to fight if given the chance which did nothing to ease Remus’ discomfort. It also didn’t help that they shared this period with the 6th and 7th year Slytherin’s.

He just wanted this day to be over.

“Why are we even talking about this?” Mulciber sneered, interrupting the professor as they discussed elements of the Wolfsbane potion.

“What is your question, Mr. Mulciber?” The professor drawled out in a bored tone.

“Why bother discussing werewolves? The lot of them should be culled anyway; euthanize them on site for all I care.” He spat, earning snickers from Avery, Goyle, and Snape.

Sirius sucked in a breath in preparation of a verbal (and possibly physical, should he be so lucky) spar when Remus dug his nails into Sirius’ thigh. “Please, Pads.” He begged quietly; voice taught with emotions.

Sirius let out a pained sigh and leaned back further into his chair.

“Funny, Mulciber.” A bored tone commented, “I was just thinking the same about you and your lot.”

Remus, James, and Sirius all turned to see the majority of the eyes in the room already on you, though you never bothered lifting your head from your textbook.

“Care to repeat that, L/N?” Mulciber sneered, sitting up in his chair as if ready to lunge at you if necessary.

You lifted your bored gaze from your book and stared at him head on. “Do I need to repeat myself, Mulciber? Mummy and daddy kept it too close in the family tree, huh?” You murmured in faux sympathy. “I was just thinking, most of the Sacred Twenty-Eight ought to be culled. That would save the wizarding world a whole lot of trouble.”

“How dare you compare me to some filthy half-breed. My family is royalty compared to those disgusting creatures.” Avery shouted.

“The only one acting like a disgusting creature here is the likes of you tossers.” You shouted back.

“Alright.” The professor tried (not very hard, albeit) to quell the quickly spiralling discussion.

“I could hardly look at myself in a mirror if I’d been tainted with a curse like lycanthropy.” Snape sneered, pointedly facing the Marauders across the room. Sirius burned with shame and protectiveness, being the reason Snape knew Remus’ secret and the overwhelming need to defend his lover. Remus took that moment to dig his nails into Sirius' thigh again, pinning him to his seat.

“Are you sure, Snape? Are you sure you wouldn’t rather live a life with lycanthropy than have to look at that mug of yours in the mirror every day.” You drawled.

“You insolent little bitch.”

“Hey!” James finally shouted from across the room, far more stern than Remus can ever remember seeing the boy. But you carried on, completely undeterred.

“I’d bet ten thousand galleons that not one werewolf ever asked to be a werewolf, yet you wake up each and every morning actively choosing to be the ugliest, most hateful, vile, disgusting beasts known to mankind. That is what is despicable. That is what should be euthanized on site.” Your voice grew louder and louder with each word until you were standing behind your desk and punctuating each word with a slam of your fist against the table in front of you.

“Alright, that’s enough.” The professor finally called; tone booming across the lecture hall intoning no nonsense.

“Mr. Mulciber, Mr. Snape, and Miss. L/N. Detention with me this evening.”

The Slytherin boys all scoffed and cursed under their breath whilst you offered a bored shrug of your shoulders, returning to your textbook as though this was just a run of the mill day for you.

The boys had been absolutely right; you just won over the affections of one Remus John Lupin.

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m-ilkiee · 3 months ago

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Monsters: Mikey Sano x Reader x Izana Kurokawa

Chapter 2: Shots Fired

series summary: your grievous sin was Emma standing up for you to her brothers. and now you’re going to pay the heavy price for destroying their perfect family dynamic.

chapter summary: Izana Kurokawa demands your attention and he doesn’t take no for an answer. Not even when his demands are outrageous.

cw: DARK CONTENT, MISOGYNY, NSFW, r*pe mention, religious guilt, depictions of PTSD and CPTSD, emotional incest, abandoment issues, violence, revenge porn, depression, filming without consent, drugging, implied domestic abuse, victim blaming, blackmailing, manipulation, gaslighting, mind break, psychological torture, use of firearms

r-18+ (not suitable for 17 and under)

wc: 11.6k

[masterlist] [chapter 1] [chapter 3] [taglist]

a/n: likes are nice, comments and reblogs with comments are superior, anons are also superior too and would make me update faster cause it means people like what i write. this chapter takes an entirely different turn from the old story, some scenes are similar but the context is different. i host polls after this so stay tuned. Edit 02/11/2024: this chapter's end has been edited and changed. I've indicated the edited point, so that you could skip other parts to read it. Thank you.

YOU haven’t been able to stay asleep for the past few days.

It’s easy to fall asleep after a hard and stressful day at school and your part-time job. Your limbs ache from all the walking and lugging a bookbag far heavier than what you could handle -since all your e-textbooks were on your (now destroyed) laptop and phones were not allowed during lectures. And working from 5pm until 9pm at a restaurant, serving food to rude, overbearing customers only to be paid in pieces was another added stress in itself.

Not to mention, studying until the words are bleary and just looking at a book hurts your eyes.

But then, in all your dreams, everything you’ve pushed to the back of your memory is at the forefront. Your dream starts typically, your normal school day, waking up, dressing in your cute little blue crop sweater and jean skirt with socks. You go to classes, and then you see Mikey’s car waiting for Emma.

Things take a different turn. He’s the one getting out of the car to meet you. It’s like a siren call, him holding out his hand for you to take despite someone screaming for you to stop. You try to reject him, try to run away like the voice said but you end up getting trapped. This time, he’s not using his hands. He’s fully sheathed inside you, robbing you of the thing you hold so dear while you kick, bite and claw at him until you wake up screaming, sweat soaked all over your sheets.

You consistently dream of being violently raped by Manjiro Sano.

The next few hours until sunrise were equally horrible. You’re quietly sobbing into your pillows, praying to God to forgive you for letting Mikey touch you in the first place, assuming your reason for having such dreams was God’s divine judgement for your grievous sin. You’ve lost count on how many Bible verses you stay up reading until your eyes are bleary and the sun comes up.

No matter how much you pray and how many times you recite psalms 127 before you sleep, you can never escape Mikey in the world of dreams. He’s a virus that has invaded your thoughts, corrupting every dream you had and twisted them into nightmares.

You don’t know how long you can hold on being this sleep deprived. It’s been impairing your school life, trying to find a way to stay awake during classes only for you to fall asleep and miss the rest of it. Even when you got notes from the person next to you, reading them was always difficult because your eyes hurt so much.

Work was even more taxing and stressful, rush week adding more stress than you could ever imagine. You found yourself spacing out more than usual when you were supposed to be taking orders. You were unable to keep up with the fast paced environment, your body feeling like a ton of bricks with every moment you make. Your eyes were heavy lidded, tired from forcing them open throughout the day.

You were so, so tired-

“Hello! Are you sleeping on me young lady?” A voice snapped at you.

Your eyes shot open and immediately you stood back straight. You must have been dozing off while taking the older lady’s order -the very thing you’ve been trying to avoid all day long. “No, not at all Ms-” you started to explain. “-I was just … what was your order aga-”

You flinched when the woman angrily slammed her fist on the table, shutting you up instantly! “So you were sleeping on the job! What kind of establishment allows this?” She screamed, attracting the attention of customers around. “I need to speak to your manager. NOW!”

You instantly began to panic at the mention of your manager. If he heard any of this, he was definitely going to fire you. You cannot afford to lose this job right now, with all your school expenses and saving up money for next session’s tuition.

“No mam!” you begged, keeping your voice even as you tried to reason with her. “Th-there’s no need for that! Please! Let me take your order and I’ll-” you racked your brain for an excuse, knowing fully well your establishment does not offer free meals. “- I’ll pay for your meal! On me-”

“So you’re trying to imply I’m poor?” She interrupted you again, her tempo even higher than before. “You disrespectful little wretch! How dare you? GET ME YOUR MANAGER RIGHT NOW!”

You started begging the older woman, trying to calm her down and de-escalate the situation, but each plea only fuelled her rage. By now, every customer, every employee and just anyone in that place watched you grovel and beg this woman to calm down, some people even videoing your altercation. Your body was trembling as she screeched in your ears, calling you all sorts of names while you relentlessly apologised to her.

“What is going on here?”

You winced at the sound of your manager’s voice emerging from the backrooms. You stood stiffly as he walked to your side, using his shoulder to nudge you out of the way. “Is there something wrong Ms.?” He asked the lady. “What happened?”

“This little wretch!” She practically screeched at you, her finger wagging straight at your hung face. “She was sleeping while I was ordering! And when I pointed it out to her calmly, she called me a hag!”

Your eyes snapped open. You can tolerate people yelling at you, but lying is out of the question. “I did not call you anything! That’s a lie-”

“You be quiet!” Your manager yelled at you, silencing you. He turned to face the woman again, apologising profusely for your so called rude behaviour. “I promise you mam, she will be dealt with accordingly. Your order is in the house, please take that as a token of our humble apology and forgive us.”

You stood there in shock as the woman smirked satisfactorily at her now free meal. “Well, you better get rid of her!” She snarked, eyes scanning you up and down, plopping back down on her seat. “Or you’ll lose me as a patron.”

“Of course mam.” He said sweetly before switching his countenance towards you into a more irritated one. “You, come with me.”

You lowered your head once again in disappointment as you started following your manager towards the back rooms, your head lowered in shame as the eyes followed your every move to your damnation waiting for you in the manager’s office.

Your skin crawled as you felt his penetrating gaze on you, as if judging you. “You know how many complaints I have received this week just from you, (name)? How many orders you’ve messed up?”

You shook your head no in response, not trusting yourself to say anything reasonable at this point. He eyes you up and down again before scoffing at you rudely. “I only let you stay here because you said you were desperate for a job. But apparently, you’re not even bothered enough to keep it.” He spat out. “Unfortunately for you, this is the end of the road for you here. Change out of your uniform and leave.”

“But s-”

“I said you’re FIRED. GET OUT.”

You sighed weakly, obeying your now ex-manager’s order and leaving the office. You ignored the eyes of everyone watching you exchange the too tight black jeans and green top uniform back to your white bohemian skirt and light blue top with your white jacket. Calmly, you packed your school bag and everything you owned with you and slung it over your shoulder, replacing the uniform back to the locker, dropping the key on top.

No one said goodbye to you as you left through the back door.

IZANA knows it's creepy to be waiting for Emma just outside her college, but it's not like he has a choice when she keeps ignoring any method he uses to contact her.

Mindlessly, he fiddled with his lighter with his back on the wall of the English department building and an unlit cigarette between his lips. Purple eyes scanned the people leaving the building one by one, hoping to find a mop of golden hair amongst the students. His hopes rose with each blond he saw, only for him to deflate when he realised they weren't her.

A few minutes passed and still no sign of Emma. Deciding that he didn’t want to stand around and gape, Izana lifted his lighter towards his cigarette, flicking the light twice and bringing the warm flame to his lips. Breathing in the familiar scent of nicotine, smoke filled his lungs as he tucked the lighter back in his pockets. His free hand took the cigarette from his lips and he exhaled, releasing plumes of smoke from his lips.

His smoking habit had gotten worse within the past week. Izana couldn’t help it, reaching for a light anytime he saw his gifts in the dustbin. Emma hasn’t been this angry at him before. Usually a new plushie was enough to wash his sins clean, no matter how grevious they were. Now, not even the most expensive shoes she’s been eyeing for months could satiate her anger.

All because of you.

Izana knows his little sister like the back of his hand. Like how she loved sleeping with plushies because it comforted her whenever their mother brought her gambling friends into the house and they were loud. Or how he picked up a guitar to learn multiple barbie songs because their mother had destroyed Emma’s CD that he bought with his money to punish her. He knew she liked warm tea during her periods and gentle back rubs to ease her pain. He’s not the best person to be around, with how fucked over he was by life until Shinichiro gave him purpose but he loved his sister a lot and everything he did was to protect her. Life hardened him, made him so jaded that the only thin thread connecting him to his humanity was Emma and he’d do anything to protect his humanity.

Only to watch it slip through his fingers.

First it was Mikey’s stupid friend, Ken Ryugi, who waltzed his way into Emma’s life. Izana didn’t like him one bit- didn’t like how Emma would bite her lip, waiting for him to reply and cry herself to sleep when he didn’t. Her heart was soft, fragile and that brute tore it apart by telling her he wasn’t interested in a relationship yet.

The only reason Ken wasn’t in an unmarked, shallow grave in the middle of nowhere was simply because Mikey was involved.

Now it is you, taking the space in her life that belonged to him and Mikey. You’re pushing both of them out of the equation, threatening their position in their sister’s life and everything they know.

Izana wonders how someone so insignificant was so important to Emma that she was willing to cut communications with her own brothers. It baffles him beyond understanding and at the same time enrages him that she could trust you so easily. That she was willing to turn against him in your name.

He took more puffs, skimming throughout the campus for any sight of her. It didn’t matter how he felt about it, as Kisaki had convinced him to ask Emma and you to go shopping, just to get back into Emma's good graces again. Apparently doing a nice gesture publicly for you would convince their sister to give them another chance again.

Especially because Izana had been the biggest opposition to their friendship.

“But Mikey was a little shit about them too.” he grumbles underneath his breath, cigarette in hand. “Why do I have to be the one to apologise? And why did Mikey get an out while I’m doing all the heavy lift-”

His thoughts were cut short the second he caught sight of a familiar blonde hair bouncing in the wind and stood up straight, tossing the cigarette to the floor and crushing it underneath his black shoes, before rushing to catch up to his little sister.

Izana pushed through the throng of people, violently shoving anyone that got in his way until he finally fell in step with her, slowing down to match her pace. Without wasting time, his hand curled around the girl’s wrist, stopping her in her tracks instantly and earning a shocked gasp escaped her lips.

“Get off me - Izana?”

Her free hand was fast to hit him, but her head was faster in turning around, only to recognize it was just Izana. Her hand stopped inches away from the smirking male’s face, the tension leaving her body and relief taking its place. It doesn’t last long, though as irritation suddenly crawls on her face, instantly displeased at his actions. “What the hell? I’ve told you to stop doing that.” she hissed at him.

A mischievous grin made its way to his face at Emma’s irritation. She always had a pout whenever she was angry at him and it made look even more adorable.

“Were you scared?” He teased, pulling Emma closer to him until she was practically smushed at his side, despite the glare she gave him in response. “You know no one would dare touch you.”

“Get off me. Your breath stinks like nicotine, I thought you said you quit smoking that shit.”

Ignoring Emma’s last question, he decided to change the topic. “Your lapdog isn't here with you?” he asked. Usually, you would be hovering behind her like a damn pest, so you not being around her was rather strange.

Emma is quick to shove him off lightly, putting some distance between the two of them, clearly still mad at him. "(Name)'s not feeling well, so she didn't come to class today. I'm on my way to get her medicine."

Oh, that's a surprise.

But with you out of the way, Izana could finally have Emma all to himself for today and hang out with his beloved sister. Maybe even make up for the party thing without apologising to you. Without you here, it’s likely Emma isn’t as mad at the whole situation and is playing it up to make you feel like you have someone on your side.

He knows you’re not going to protest if Emma says she’s in talking terms with her brothers again. It’s a win-win situation and he doesn’t have to grovel or ask for forgiveness for some joke that went wrong.

"So that means we can hang out?"

"Excuse me?"

"You don't have to keep pretending you're still mad at me now that she isn't here." He spews the 'she' with so much venom it could kill, before switching up with a sick grin, his hand stretched out. "We can go to Vivienne Westwood and get that Saturn necklace you like, what do you say?"

His words hung in the air as Emma trailed her pointed glare from his hand, back to his cheerful visage. She crossed her arms in response slowly, her yellow eyes burning holes into his face as her lips curled into a sick sneer.

“Are you insane?”

“What?”

“Don’t ‘what?’ me Izana! I just told you (name)'s ill and you're asking me to go with you to shop at Vivienne westwood? Are you nuts?”

Emma’s voice was loud enough to garner wandering eyes of other by-standers, watching the event go down. Izana kept his composure, despite his bubbling irritation beneath the surface of his skin, with a smile -albeit stiffer than before. ‘She’s just being emotional’ Izana whispered to himself, still trying to be rational. ‘Just take it easy with her’

“Oh come on, should I care about her-"

"You should be begging her to forgive you for what you did to her that night!"

"You can't still be mad at me for that shit that happened two weeks ago. And besides, it's not my fault she couldn't take a joke” his words were smooth, buttery, flowing out of his lips like it was the truth, digging his own grave. “I didn’t know your friend was that sensitive-”

“Are you listening to the bullshit coming from your mouth?” Emma roared, her voice echoing throughout the entirety of the department, her face red with fury. Izana had never seen his own beloved sister ever look at him with such disgust in her eyes, her teeth gnashing against each other and hands at her side, clenching against each other. “Is that what you think a joke sounds like?”

“Calm the fuck dow-”

“No wonder you’re fucking single, you’re such a piece of shit to anyone that isn’t Shinichiro!” Emma screamed, interrupting Izana once again, her temper fiery enough to burn a hole on the ground she stood with how heated she was. “How does anyone even stand you for so long? You’re unbearable!”

“Excuse m-”

He doesn’t like where the conversation is going, with how furious Emma was right now. He tried to raise a comforting hand to Emma’s shoulder to ease her tension but she was quick to smack it away from her hard, stinging his fingers a little.

“You’re so unpleasant, how do you even have any friends? How do they tolerate you? To think (name) wanted me to forgive you! Thank god you aren’t my fucking brother, I can’t imagine being anything like you!”

The words left her mouth before she could stop herself.

It was as if the world froze over for Izana. He stood there, wide eyed, his heart beating loudly in his chest as all the voices around him faded into the background. His hand extended weakly at his side, mouth drying up as a lump formed in his throat.

“I-I-i" she starts to stutter. It’s obvious that she can recognize what she had just said as he blankly stared at her. "I didn't mean i-”

He doesn’t let her finish, turning on his heel and walking away as fast as possible. People were quick to clear out of his way, not wanting to be his target of aggression. Emma followed behind, instantly, shouting his name at the top of her lungs followed with strings of apologies.

“Izana, wait please-” she screamed from the crowd of people, tears streaming from her yellow eyes. He continued to ignore her as he hopped on his bike, sliding in the key and revving up the engine before she could reach him.

Izana zoomed away, turning Emma’s cries into background noise, her words repeating in his head.

“I didn’t mean it! I’M SORRY-”

YOU don't know which was worse, the feeling of helplessness that came with the reality of your life crashing before your very eyes or the splitting headache you've developed after crying in your room for a week straight. Laying on your bed all day, huddled up in a blanket and sobbing uncontrollably was unhealthy, but it was all you found the strength to do these days.

In all your years of being alive, you've never felt this pathetic. Not when you would be pushed outside in the pouring rain if you made a mistake in making dinner, or had been beaten with a belt in front of Yuzhua and Hakkai because you failed your catechism test. You could protect yourself from your brothers when they got violent. You could run and hide when your dad was really angry and wanted to take it out on you.

Unfortunately, no one told you what to do when your life is falling apart.

Ever since that day, you couldn't find the strength to go to class or do anything for that matter. It was like your entire energy was sucked out of you, leaving your body an empty husk with nothing left to give.

You only have yourself to blame.

You drag the blankets closer to your body, sniffling a bit. The worst part of all of this is that after this month, if you don’t find a job that pays you quickly, you are going to be broke. It’s times like this that makes you regret leaving your family. You know it’s wishful thinking, but you wonder if you would be forgiven assuming you return home in tears and repentant of your sin of disobedience like the prodigal son in the bible. Life is too hard to live in the outside world without the help and guidance of a parent. You miss your old life, with your own bed and guaranteed food, as long as you did as you were told. You miss how sometimes your parents took you and your siblings to eat out after church.

You miss your mother. You want to go back to her. Life is hard, and dealing with being jobless with nowhere to turn to is harder. You could ask Emma, but she’s already taking care of you and there was no way you would bother your friend about your money problems.

"Hey babes, I got the medicine for you."

Emma's soft voice rouses you out of your self-pity session. The wood creaks underneath her heels as she walks to your bed and takes a seat besides you, the mattress dipping underneath her weight. The scent of her Vivienne Westwood wafting through your nostrils fills you with a sense of warmth, familiarity and at the same time, dread.

You feel guilty. Perhaps it's because you don't know how to tell Emma what exactly is wrong with you. It's easier to give her the half-truth that you caught a stomach bug than say everything. If you even as much as hinted that Manjiro had something to do with the real reason you were a sobbing mess on your bed, you're sure she would overreact and fight with her brothers again.

But still, not telling her meant you were keeping secrets from her. Something you both promised not to ever do as you two became best-friends.

‘It’s for her own good.’ you try to justify it. ‘It’s better I keep my mouth shut.’

Pushing that thought at the back of your mind, you roll over to her direction, pulling down your blanket just a little bit to see her properly. Your heart drops at the sadness etched onto Emma’s face, a forlorn look in her eyes. You hated seeing her down, yet all you’ve been doing for the past few months since you came into her life was causing her pain. You know how it feels to lose family, no matter how bad they were to you and Emma is no different.

“Hey”

Your voice is hoarse from your constant crying, but Emma doesn’t mention it as she reaches a hand to caress your face. “You look better than yesterday. You up to eat?”

You nodded briefly, realising how hungry you were. You’ve barely had an appetite to eat anything, so your rations had been smaller and compact until you regained it back bit by bit, thanks to Emma’s constant care. Pushing yourself up, you sit up and yawn, quickly covering your mouth the moment a bad stench emanates from it. Emma’s face quickly grows sour as well, probably smelling it too.

“You haven’t showered.”

“Uhhh-”

You knew there was no excuse for that one as Emma put the food and medicine away before yanking you off the bed while talking about how gross you were for not showering throughout today. “You’re a girl (name), don’t do this to yourself, c’mon-”

“But-” you start to whine, trying to defend yourself. “I was tired-”

“Nope!” she retorted, pushing you towards the bathroom. “No excuses! I swear you’re acting like Mikey when he’s in one of his moods-”

The room falls silent at her words, the cheerful aura dropping the second Emma realises what she’s said, a wave of guilt washing over her face as she lets go of your hands.

“Fuck- I’m sorry (name)...”

Your heart aches at how heartbroken she sounds right now and shatters even further at the fact that everything, every problem they were experiencing right now was all your fault. You saw it deep in Mikey’s eyes how much pain and suffering your presence in their family had caused, and how his anger reflected that action towards you. You’ve been so entrenched in your own problems that you forgot the mess you made in their family.

“Emma, you miss them don’t you?”

‘It’s not too late.’ You mutter to yourself, your heart in your throat as you steel your resolve. You couldn’t let her make that mistake you made by leaving your family aside. You don’t want Emma to be like you.

“(Name), please don’t-”

“You can’t keep ignoring them forever.” You cut her short, speaking directly to her now. “You can’t keep ignoring Draken either too. You’re miserable.”

“I’m fin-”

“Emma no.” You snap at her, finally having enough of her stubbornness as anger swells up in you. “I see how sad you look everytime you look at your pictures with your big brothers and Draken. Do you think that it’s healthy to keep ignoring them like this?”

“You were the one they hurt, you shouldn’t feel bad for them-”

“It doesn’t matter! I don’t matter!” You yell desperately, now pulling away from her grasp in an attempt to put your foot down. “They are the ones who matter a lot. Those are you family members! People who love you and have protected you for years! Just talk it out with them! They miss you for god’s sake!”

“What the hell do you mean you don’t matter?” Emma roars back at you, suddenly enraged by your outburst. You nearly stumble back at how angry she sounded, fear creeping into your skin as your verbal claws retract. “You matter to me! You mean the world to me as any of them do! You’re my best friend and I love you and if they don’t understand that then there is nothing to make up for!”

By the time she was done yelling, her breathing was heavy and her eyes so intense you couldn’t even stare at her. Your eyes quickly flickered to your feet instead; scared of seeing the disappointment on her face and terrified of her anger. You didn’t like it when Emma yelled, it reminded you of your mother getting angry at you, something you hated doing to her.

Eventually, she took a deep breath and took a step closer to you, her hand intertwined with yours. “Come on, I’ll help you shower.”

You silently follow behind her, eyes downcast and shoulders slumped.

PERHAPS Izana should be angry at Emma.

It would be justified after the words she said from her mouth, but he can’t because he knows the truth. Emma was just angry as well and she didn’t mean any of the words she had said to hurt him. She said them because of you, however and he realises that every fight they’ve had is over your presence in her life.

Which meant that the true culprit was you.

People may believe in love at first sight, but from the first day Izana set his eyes on you, he could only feel hatred towards you. You were just there, sitting awkwardly while Emma tried to involve you in their conversation and it irked him.

At first, Izana thought it was the fact that the both of you were clashing personalities that made him feel that way, but then you keep getting in his way and ruining things for him. He hates everything about you - the way you picked your finger when you were nervous. Your bright smile you gave to only Emma and how easy it was for her to like you. Just your mere presence in general was enough to set him off because of how simple it was for you to be close to Emma while you barely knew her. It felt like he was losing his only sister to a stranger, and now the Emma who stands in front of him is a mere mockery of his real sister.

And that’s the frustrating part. He can’t do anything to hurt you. He’s smart enough to know that if he does, Emma would never forgive him.

“... Kurokawa, are you here with us?”

Izana snaps back to reality as Kisaki taps the table three times to get his attention. ‘I might have spaced out.’ He thinks to himself before facing the entirety of the table; Tetta Kisaki, the rather shrewd and ruthless dealer sitting, his equally irritating lap dog Shuji Hanma and the little shit that he called his younger brother, Mikey.

Speaking of Mikey, ever since that day he made that phone call and revealed his brand new plan of accepting you into their friend group, he’s been very quiet. Even throughout today’s meeting, he hasn’t said a word, aside from mentioning that Draken was going to be absent and asking where Kakucho was before the meeting began.

And knowing his brother, a quiet Mikey is a suspicious Mikey.

Now that Izana thinks about it, he’s noticed that Mikey, who was on his side initially had suddenly switched to trying to apologise to you. Which was weird, considering how egocentric Mikey could be on the topic of apologising. Izana has his suspicions, but then again Mikey is unpredictable due to his rather dark impulses, so he couldn’t really say anything yet, until Kakucho came back from his task.

Izana cleared his throat and faced Kisaki again, deciding to be as honest as possible. After all, it’s their fault that he’s in this mess, might as well remind them. “Just thinking about how Emma practically called me a bastard and I’m supposed to be okay with it.” He said nonchalantly and the air in the room shifted into an uncomfortable silence for the upteenth time this week ever since that unfortunate day. It isn’t surprising to anyone as to why though, Izana’s complicated relationship with the Sano’s is a sore topic that no one ever dared to bring up.

From Kisaki’s tight lipped expression, Izana is sure that the younger male is picking his words carefully in his head. Even Hanma who would have laughed or said something to intentionally piss off Izana remains silent. Eventually, Kisaki lets out a resigned sigh. “The audit would be done another time.” He states in a cool tone, putting his laptop aside before facing the two brothers. “It’s obvious we’re not gonna do anything useful until you resolve this issue with Emma and her friend.”

“Really?” The white haired male mocks, causing Kisaki to shift in his place, an irritated frown creasing his face. “would you like to hear my pla-”

“We’re not going to kill a civilian and draw attention to ourselves, Izana. I’ve already told you what to do.” Kisaki snapped back, his yellow eyes darting from Izana to Mikey, before narrowing in irritation. “Both of you. Just apologise to (name), it’s not that hard. You don’t even have to mean it, the girl won’t even know the difference-”

“Ah yes, cause that went well the last time.”

“And whose fault is that? I clearly told you to say “I’m sorry” and all you did was make things worse!”

“I’m just brutally honest.” Izana spits back. “And you can’t blame me because I tried, compared to Mikey who sits on his damn ass and has done nothing-”

“I wasn’t the one who called her a cheap hooker!” Mikey interjects defensively, sitting upright after staying quiet from the start of this meeting, finally saying something.

“Oh, so you can speak.” Izana retorts back, his voice cold. Mikey is so good at shifting blame onto others for actions he has a hand in, especially when he knows it would reflect badly on him. Unfortunately, Izana has been in this game longer than his little brother. “I thought you had gone mute with the way you don’t want to talk about the issue beyond pushing me to apologise to her.”

“You don’t make it any easier with how you talk to people.” Mikey hisses back, his tempo rising with each word, but Izana can hear the slight shake in his voice, almost as if he’s hiding something. “How am I supposed to do anything if you keep saying shit like you’re glad (name)’s gone?”

(Name)?

The entire room falls silent at Mikey’s sudden outburst, or rather what Mikey had just said. No one says a word as they all stare at Mikey in shock, eye wide and mouth hanging open like he’d grown two heads. There’s a glimmer of confusion in the dark eyed male before the realisation of his mistake washes over him, his facial expression changing into a mixture of guilt and pure terror.

As if he’s been caught doing something he shouldn’t have.

It’s unmistaken. Izana knows his brother is hiding something and it has to do with you. “You’ve never,” he starts slowly, never taking his eyes off Mikey, gauging his facial expression. “called her by her name. You only call girls who you had something to do with by their name.”

“I-”

“You fucked her, didn’t you.” it’s a statement, not a question. Mikey grows pale and it's more of a sure answer than anything else at all.

“I didn’t do anything bad… she’s still a virgin-”

“What.” Kisaki, interjecting as well, cuts him off, his voice cold. “Did. You. Do?”

Mikey is silent. It’s brief and doesn’t last long as he finally seals his fate with a quiet voice. “It’s not my fucking fault, she wore a short skirt and she was asking for it-”

At the side, Kisaki crumples back onto the dining table seat, his head in his hands muttering a quiet “Oh fuck, I should have stayed with Osanai.” as he shakes in disbelief. Hanma just sits there, clearly perturbed, not knowing how to react but at the same time, not really interested.

“Glad to know I’m not the only screw up.” Izana scoffs as well. Despite how cheery his voice sounded, the furious look on his face says a different story altogether. “Since apparently you’re just as stupid as I am.”

Mikey runs a hand through his golden locs, frustration evident on his features. No one has ever seen him look so frantic, like a little kid who broke something and is trying to hide it. “I didn’t do anything wrong. Sure she said no at first but I knew she wanted it when she relaxed in my touch-”

“That’s not what Emma’s gonna think, you idiot!” Izana barks at him angrily, his temper finally off the rails. “You practically threw away your entire plan before it even started! All for what? Mediocre pussy you could get from some other girl? And you know how Shin is about this shit. If Emma finds out and tells him, we’re screwed!”

There’s a mixture of emotions swirling in Izana right now. The urge to punch Mikey was strong, for daring to not only lie to his face, but also making him look like a fool to cover his ass.

Then again, he knows it’s really not Mikey’s fault but yours. You must have done something to make Mikey hurt you because he knows his little brother doesn’t hurt girls. You have this effect of turning people into worse versions of themselves, making them disgusting, evil and hateful.

You turned Emma against them and now you made Mikey’s dark impulses come out.

It’s you that’s the problem.

“So what anyone find out? They won’t believe her” Mikey snarls back, irritated. “She can’t blame me, I told her to fucking leave but she didn’t listen! She was practically begging me to fuck her-”

“ENOUGH!”

Kisaki’s voice is loud enough to silence the two brothers, ending their argument instantly as they breathe heavily from their prior screaming match. Izana slumps back on his seat as Kisaki sits up straight, eyes narrowed. Mikey does the same as Izana, his jaw tightly clenched as he crosses his arms on his chest, feet crossed. The younger male clears his throat, and starts to rationalise the situation.

“It’s obvious that we’re going to switch gears since this happened. We all have a curated reputation that we need to protect so that people don’t nose into our business.” He turns to Mikey who is still glaring hard at Izana. “Your brother has a point, you fucked up our plan by not telling anyone what you did-”

“You judging me too, Kisaki?”

“Can you stop being defensive for once Mikey and just listen!” Kisaki scolds, just about done with everyone making things more difficult for him. “I don’t care what you did to her, whatever affection or lust you have for her is a you problem. I just want this situation to be in our favour.”

The statement makes Izana scoff in dismal fashion, but he decides to ask out of curiosity regardless. “And how do you intend to turn this situation around? Cause right now she has leverage over us and any careless move can put us in a tougher spot than we can handle.”

Kisaki turns his attention fully towards Izana again, a knowing look on his face as he asks. “Is Kakucho done searching Mikey’s car?”

‘How did he know?’ Izana blinks, but then catches Hanma smirking and doesn’t bother to ask his impending questions. Kisaki always had a nasty and suspicious habit of continuously tailing him specifically, and usually it doesn’t go over Izana’s radar when it happens, apart from this instance. Which meant someone was being a rat in his group.

He’ll deal with that later.

Mikey raised a brow in confusion as well, opening his mouth to protest the invasion of his privacy when Izana’s phone suddenly rings. He picks it up, attempting to step out to answer it when Kisaki raises his hand to stop him.

“Answer it here.” Kisaki said, ignoring the way Izana looks at him like he has two heads. “and put it on speaker.”

He had no reason to comply, but he wanted to see where Kisaki was going with whatever plan he had. With a wry smile, Izana put the phone down on the table and slid the answer button, putting it on a loudspeaker.

“Did you find anything Kakucho?”

Ever loyal, Kakucho clears his throat and starts to speak, his voice sounding strained over the phone, as if he’s struggling with something. “Yes boss.” He answers, a twinge of nervousness coating his tone. “There’s a dash cam on the mirror and a spy cam underneath the compartment facing the passenger’s seat…”

Mikey grumbles under his breath something about fucking Kakucho up if anything ends up spoilt or missing in his car but Kisaki holds his hand up to his lips and shushes him. Izana continues once he’s sure his brother is done complaining. “And did you confirm the anonymous tip that we got?”

He can hear Kakucho shift uncomfortably, the silence on the other side of the phone drawn out until he finally says. “Boss, it’s too … I don’t think we should use this against her.” He tries to reason. “I think we’re going too far-”

“Perfect.” Kisaki chimes in, now looking at Izana with a satisfied smile. Kakucho is about to ask why Kisaki was there but Izana cuts him off instead. “Bring it back. I’ll explain once you come to the house.”

“Okay boss.”

The phone line dies and Kisaki, fairly confident in his plan, looks at Izana once again. “I’m sure you know where I’m going, right?”

Izana may think Kisaki is a pathetic brat who just happened to be smart, but right now, it’s like the both of them are connected and in tune with their thoughts. The tanned male stretches his lips into a smile, one full of malice and at the same time, glee, his eyes light with mirth when he realises what Kisaki was thinking.

Finally a plan he could follow along with.

“Alright, I’m all ears.”

THE walk back to your dorm was quiet.

By the time you managed to catch a bus after spending the entire day looking for a job and getting back to campus, it was already late in the night. Save for only the street lamps that were beginning to dim, everywhere else was darker than usual.

You had read that there was going to be a lunar eclipse tonight between the hours of 10pm - 00am. The time boldly written on the bus’ digital clock before you got down was 10:45pm, so you already assumed it was the cause of the unnatural darkness tonight.

A long time ago before the world weighed you down, things like this would have made you excited. You loved watching the stars when you were young, trying to check on the papers your father bought to see if there was any space news available. You remember borrowing your immediate elder brother’s binoculars as a makeshift telescope, trying to piece out the stars in the sky or see if you would catch a glimpse of the comet that was said to pass through that week.

Unfortunately, you were young and foolish. Wanting to impress your father, you told him all about your book of constellations that you drew up, detailing the first star that appeared every evening, down to your crazy childish theories about aliens and space.

“Can you show me the book?” your father asked calmly. You should have known it was dangerous for your father to be this calm, but you were too blinded by excitement to think and you gave him the book, a bright smile on your face.

Your smile fell as his large hands ripped your book into shreds, before telling you: “Women don’t dream.”

Maybe that was the day you realised the love you craved from your father will never be given to you. You were so young and impressionable, all you wanted was for him to be proud of you, like he was with his sons. Now, you can’t even look at the stars, the memory leaves a bitter taste in your mouth and you try to shake it off as you continue on the path.

You wondered what grievous sin you’ve committed to be so down on your luck like this. Today had been one disappointment to another

You passed by Emma’s dorm building, a sigh escaping your lips. She told you that Draken wanted to take her out for dinner tonight, which shocked you because friends with benefits - according to what Emma herself told you- don’t go on dates or do lovey dovey stuff with each other, to avoid complicated feelings from budding.

Then again, their relationship is based on the fact that they both have feelings for each other, but Draken was not interested in a relationship.

It was already complicated before it began but at least she's taking your advice and talking to them again.

Your eyes darted up to her window, hoping her lights were on. Whenever she was alone, Emma hated sleeping in the dark. She said it reminded her of the times her mother would lock her and Izana in a dark room whenever she brought her customers in. Anytime she was in a darkened room, she told you she could still hear the sound of her mother moaning and a man grunting. Izana would try his best to distract her, playing games or even stealing an earphone and plugging it to his own so that she would listen to music instead of what was going on.

A frown graced your lips when you saw two bodies from the curtain, one tall figure you recognize as Draken and Emma’s smaller dainty figure perched on him, kissing. You quickly averted your eyes and walked faster, ignoring the unfamiliar pang in your chest. Maybe you’re jealous because you needed your friend’s comfort right now and she wasn’t available. You felt greedy for this, after spending a week with her, you should let her be free.

‘She has her own life to live. And I have mine’ you muttered to yourself as you trudged along the path, slowly dragging your feet. ‘I have to stop being so dependent on her.’

Eventually, your thoughts drift back to your reoccurring dream. Losing your job made you realise that if you didn’t do anything about it, your tiredness would eventually catch up to you and ruin everything else you’ve worked for. With an important test scheduled for tomorrow, you knew you could not afford to take another loss this week. You had to power through your sleep tonight, even if it traumatised you.

‘Maybe I should pretend that I like it. Pretend it’s okay and enjoy it so that I won’t have to wake up.’ You shook your head, cursing as you drew closer to your own dorm building. ‘Oh God, how far I’ve fallen. Look at me trying to enjoy a disgraceful act-’

You paused in your tracks at the sound of a leaf crushing. You quickly turned around, trying to ascertain who could be lurking there behind the bushes. Your palms started sweating, your nerves firing at the thought of being watched.

Silence.

You decided to continue walking, assuming that maybe you were hearing things and there wasn’t anything at all. Nighttime always had a way of making you nervous, especially with all the horrible stories you heard about innocent women being attacked around these times. Besides, looking around for whatever may be lurking was a dumb idea.

You should just get out of here.

Eventually, you make it to your dorm house in record time, a sigh of relief escaping your lips. ‘Maybe I’m being paranoid. But at least I’m safe now.’ You think to yourself as you push the door open, closing it behind you.

Weary from the day’s stress, your body starts to give up on you but you push through, trying your best to just make it to your room. You’re sure you would just collapse on your bed the second you got there and forget about anything else.

But as you reach for the handle, a feeling of dread washes over you, the same one you felt when you were outside. ‘I really need to let this go. There’s no harm waiting for me. It’s just my room.’ You mutter to yourself. Your overthinking has cost you a lot, from your job to your academics and right now, you really need it to stop. Pushing whatever feeling was keeping you away, you walked into the darkened room.

You finally make it to your room, about to rummage your bag for the keys when you notice the door was unlocked. ‘Oh? Ami must have come back rather early, since I barely see her until 2am.’

(From here is edited)

The first thing that greeted you was the stench of some kind of smoke -weed, the kind that Ami liked to use whenever she was in the room. You always hated the smell and you recall telling her to leave the windows open whenever she wanted to smoke. Coughing, you quickly covered your nose and mouth with one hand and reached to turn on the light with another. “Ami, how many times have I told you to open the window whenever you smoke? You know I don’t like the smell-”

Your blood turns to ice the moment light floods the room, your mouth dry as you stare at the man perched on your reading chair, a leg crossed over the other, the weed blunt hanging between his tanned hands. His lips are stretched into a sick grin, showing all his teeth, purple eyes shining with an odd mirth as he glances at you up and down.

Izana Kurokawa.

‘Run’

You don’t need to be told twice, quickly discarding your bag and running towards the direction of the door, only to hit someone hard, standing tall in your way. You look up fearfully to see mismatched eyes, a scar running down his face and flinch backwards in reflex. It’s as if he gazes at you with pity, but quickly switches to a blank stare as he stands between you and the door.

You know him from hanging around Emma a lot in the Tenjiku frat house, Kakucho. He’s always around Izana and only loyal to him for some reason that you don’t know. He doesn’t listen to anyone else, not even Mikey. You realise that he might have been the one that was following you when you were walking home.

Begging him to let you pass would be futile.

“Don’t worry, I’m just here to have a little chat with you. I’m not going to hurt you.” His tone is calm, but it doesn’t bring you any comfort. If Mikey could hurt you without any remorse, then there’s nothing stopping Izana from doing worse to you. “And as much as your backside is as interesting as your face, I prefer talking to someone who is looking at me.”

“I don’t want to talk to you.” The words fly out from your mouth before you even think of a more appropriate response but it doesn’t seem to give him any form of reaction other than a dry laugh.

He scoffed. “I don’t care. Turn around.”

Reluctantly you slowly turn to face him again, your body trembling as your fear filled eyes lock with his. Your heart drops to your stomach when you hear heavy footsteps walk out of the door, shutting it behind you, locks turning and trapping you with Izana.

‘Oh God oh God oh God.’

Your fear doesn’t go unnoticed by the white haired man, and he only chuckles at how stiff you were. Between the two brothers, you know Izana thrives in fear, using it to his advantage and it’s not unfounded. Notwithstanding his backing from Black dragons, Izana had taken Tenjiku from a down and out frat house, to a den of crime that holds power, trickling right into the administration of the university. Even his men know better than to ever get themselves in his bad books, because no one can ever escape him, no matter how much you try to run.

It was only a matter of time until he would make you pay for causing him problems, but you didn’t think he’d come by himself. You felt stupid for thinking he wouldn’t care about you or he’d forget how angry he was at you and leave you alone, especially with Emma still not on speaking terms with them.

He motions with his bunt for you to come closer to him and you comply, taking careful steps until you’re standing right in front of him. He eyes you again with a tepid frown. “When you meet a king, you don’t stand before him, you kneel.”

Kneel. You want to assume he’s not serious but you know better than to question him and go down on your knees, focusing your gaze firmly on your lap. It’s humiliating the way he has you at his mercy, without even moving an inch but it’s better to be compliant than to aggravate him even further by being disobedient.

You’ve learned the hard way what could happen if you resist.

From the corner of your eyes, you watch as Izana puts out his weed blunt on your reading table leaving a sorching mark on the table, before reaching behind his waistband. Your mouth grows dry the second you see the gun, your heart pounding against your chest as he presses the barrel to your head.

‘Oh god.’ You gasp as he presses it further against your head, until you’re sure it would leave an indent. ‘He’s going to kill me. He’s going to kill me…’

“That’s odd,” He murmurs. “Usually, other people would be begging for their lives when met with a gun to their head, but you’re quiet. If not for the way your hands are trembling, I’d think you weren’t scared.”

This time, with a gun pointed at your head, you’re careful with your words. “Y-you said you won’t hurt me.” Your voice shakes with fear but you continue. You know men like Izana, he reminds you of your older brother who ruled the house apart from your father, with fear and control. Sometimes, when you were able to stroke his ego, he’d go easy on you. Maybe that would work on Izana too. “That you want to talk.”

“And what if I changed my mind? Pulled the trigger? That’ll make my life easier, yeah? I won’t have to fight for my sister’s love and affection with you.”

Your breath hitches in your throat when you hear the safety go off and watch as his finger curls around the trigger. ‘Oh God, he’s going to kill me. He’ll shoot me dead. I-i have to say something- I don’t want to die-’

“I-i trust you not to do it.” You reply, your lips trembling as you struggle not to think of your head scattered into pieces on the floor if he chooses to kill you. “You’re a man of your words.”

There’s another complete silence that engulfs the entire room, until you hear a click that makes you flinch for a split second, waiting for the bullet that would end it all. Instead, it’s him putting the safety back on, and chuckling at your reaction.

“You trust me? How foolish.” He laughs, tracing the gun from your head down to underneath your chin and forcing you to look up at him. You’ve only read about people with empty eyes in stories, but seeing it in person was so terrifying. “Is that why you ended up with Mikey in his car?”

All the blood rushes from your head to the tip of your toes. “H-how do you kn-”

“I have eyes and ears in this school, (name).” You’re sure it’s the first time you’ve heard him call you by your name and despite being in a life or death situation, you couldn’t control the shiver that ran through your spine. “You wanted him to touch you, right?”

“T-that is not what happened!” You suddenly cried out, trying to explain your own side of the story. Of all the people who know your dirty and shameful secret, Izana is the worst pick, just your luck. “It was a mistake! I tried to tell him I didn’t want it but I couldn’t-”

“Ah ah -” Izana cuts you off, tilting your chin higher with the gun. “Don’t lie to me. You must have planned the entire thing to make Mikey look bad”

“No! I wasn’t trying to do anything, I just wanted to talk-”

“Really? Cause Mikey told me an entirely different story-”

“No, no I- didn’t… -”

“You were dangling yourself like a piece of meat for him to fuck and he’s a man, you know. He has urges and it's hard to resist temptation.”

“That’s not true-” your lips start to tremble at his words, tears forming at the corner of your eyes. You didn’t want to be assaulted, you just wanted to talk to him about the Emma issue and you wanted to apologise. “That’s not true-”

“Oh but it is.” He said firmly, now leaning in closer to your face until there’s barely any inches between the two of you. “And now Mikey feels like a piece of shit because he couldn’t stop himself.”

“No-” your voice is small, trying to defend yourself but even you are beginning to doubt your own credibility with how he keeps twisting the narrative around until you begin to actually believe him.

‘No! Don’t let him make you think you’re in the wrong! You know what happened!’

“He even told you to leave but you refused to. You were baiting him to just do something to you so that you can tell everyone how bad Mikey is and make yourself get more sympathy points. Am I wrong?”

“No! I would never do that to Mikey!” You don’t realise your tempo had suddenly gotten high or that tears had started to drip down your face, but Izana did. He doesn’t point it out, staying quiet as you start to shout at him. “I would never bait him into hurting me! I just wanted to make up with him because I felt that I overreacted at the party I swear! And then he touched me in the car -”

“And you never reported him to the school authorities? Why? Did you want to blackmail him for money-”

“Because I love him!”

The words flew out of your mouth before you could even stop yourself from saying them.

Your heart drops as a mischievious glint appears in Izana’s eyes. His smile drops slightly, still maintaining the gun on your chin. “You love him?” He says slowly, testing out the words on his lips. “Love? Mikey?” He looks so deep in thought, like the concept sounds so foreign to him that he almost can’t believe it. His gaze falls back to you again, a quiet scoff emanating from his lips. “You really have no shame, do you?”

Unable to maintain eye contact with him, you break away from his gaze, biting down on your lips to prevent yourself from falling apart. When you don’t respond, Izana takes your silence as an opportunity to keep talking. “If you love him so much, then what’s wrong with what you both did in the car that day? It was what you wanted, wasn't it?”

“Not like that…”

“But you claim to love him.” Izana is calm and cool, while you’re stuttering on your words, making you look like you’re the one who is wrong. Like what you’re saying doesn’t make any sense to begin with and he’s the one saying something of reason. “And yet, you didn’t even notice he wasn’t himself that day. Or did you take advantage of his fragile state of mind?”

“I would NEVER-”

“You would, because you get to be the so-called victim and he gets to be the villain in your own story. Do you really know the implication of your actions?”

“That’s not right.” You don’t even realize how quiet you’ve gotten, your voice full of uncertainity. “I didn’t … it’s not…”

“Shut up.” He cuts you off again with a firm tone, tapping the gun on your chin gently to enunciate his point. “The reason why I haven’t put a bullet through your head as much as I want to is because I love Emma. I love Emma so much I’d kill for her and I’d resist the urge to kill for her. That’s how Sano’s love. That’s true love. That's something you'll never ever experience.”

You stay silent, trying to understand what exactly Izana was calling love. He leaned closer, making you feel even smaller. “If Emma finds out, she’ll think Mikey intentionally hurt you and she will hate him. But I guess that’s what you want, isn’t it?”

“Never. I don’t want her to hate him” your inner voice telling you it’s not your fault, is nothing more than a whisper, the feeling of guilt and shame overtaking you until you’re almost suffocating. “I just want them to be happy…”

“Then you know exactly what you’re meant to do, right?”

Of course you know what to do. Ever since you were child, it’s been drilled into your head. Whenever your brothers hit you a bit too hard or your father went overboard with his belt and you ended up in the hospital, your mother would take you aside to issue a warning that still rings in your head. That had terrible consequences if you refused to follow through with it.

You nod weakly. It really doesn’t matter what is right and wrong when it comes to the Sano’s, but what they want. Izana taps the gun on your chin again, shaking his head. “I need a verbal answer.”

“I won’t tell anybody what happened. Especially not Emma.”

Satisfied, he withdrew his gun from your chin and your face falls onto his lap, unable to support your head any longer. You feel a hand reaching down to pet your head, like you were a dog who had just been tamed by her new owner. The strength to push him off or stand up had left you, feeling drained as the weight of guilt settle down on your shoulders, heavily. You know you shouldn’t believe anything Izana says, but then again he does have a point. Maybe you should have been more receptive of Mikey’s touch or at least be polite about declining him instead of shoving him off and hurting his pride.

You feel so utterly powerless. Despite being wronged, you know there’s nothing you can really do to save yourself. You don’t think you can bear the traumatic experience of being an outlier again.

Mikey. You don’t want to hurt him. You don’t want anyone thinking he’s a bad person over a singular action.

'Maybe it’s not as bad as I think, I did enjoy it mid-way, so it should count as something. Right?'

You feel sick just trying to think about it.

“You know, if you’re this obedient, we can get along just fine.” He hums, breaking the silence as he pets your head gently. You hate yourself right now. How easy it is to do whatever it is that you’re told because disobedience is not an option. “I’m sure you wouldn’t want to know what I’ll do to you if you break your promise.”

“No” your voice is quiet. You feel tired, sick maybe, you don’t know. Maybe it’s the weed he smoked earlier affecting your judgement and reasoning. Or it’s the lack of sleep that has made it difficult for you to think straight or stand up. Either way, you don’t care. “I don’t.”

“Good girl.”

Bonus:

You know he’s mocking you, but you accept it, like you do with every circumstance thrown at you.

IZANA looks down at your sleeping figure with a curious gaze.

For a moment, he almost pities you. Despite the faint glow of the room lighting, he can see the dark circles underneath your eyes and how stressed you look. For someone who is actively working to pay her fees while sustaining herself with no one caring for her, it must be hard being abandoned by society.

He can see why Emma picked you to be her friend, she always had a trait of picking up stray animals who had no one because she wanted something to protect. It’s no different with you, the way she’s so fiercely loyal to you and why she wanted you to be accepted by their family. No wonder she was hurt when you were vehemently rejected by them.

If he had a conscience, he’d feel bad for you. You love Mikey, of all people, someone who only saw you as a nuisance and to push the blame of his actions onto. All those times Mikey was cruel to you must have hurt the most because you truly cared about what he thinks about you.

He’s careful when he lifts your head from his lap, not wanting to wake you up. He puts your head on the chair and turns to leave, already overstaying his welcome. He’s done the thing he was supposed to, ensuring you stayed quiet about Mikey’s actions and there’s no need for him to be here any longer.

As he walked to the door, his mind goes back to you. In a way, you and him were similar. All alone, unwanted, with nobody in the world to care about you, cold, uncaring parents who didn’t think twice in terms of abandoning you both. The only difference between you and him is that he grew a backbone and you haven’t. You’re like a kicked dog who continues to stay on the ground to get kicked, in hopes the person kicking you stops eventually.

As long as you stay on the ground, people like him will keep kicking you.

He knocks loudly on the door and the locks turn. Kakucho opens it for him, peering inside with a worried gaze, his eyes settling on your body slumped over a chair.

“Did you hit -”

“I didn’t touch her.” Izana snaps at the taller male, stepping out of the room properly. “She’s fine, physically at least. Emotionally she’s a mess. But that’s Mikey’s problem to fix.”

“Huh?”

It wouldn’t hurt to tell Kakucho your little secret. “Apparently (name)’s in love with my dear brother Mikey so she’s keeping quiet what he did to her.” a cruel smile stretches across his face. “How pathetic.”

Kakucho frowns at Izana’s statement, but as usual he doesn’t say anything in response. Instead, his eye darts back to your form again, taking a good look at you, his eyes softening. Ever the gentleman.

“She shouldn’t really stay like that Izana, she’ll get a stiff neck-”

“Kakucho.”

That was enough to end the conversation.

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alastorss · 4 months ago

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⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

Alastor does not have a heart.

You think that most Sinners do. A form of punishment by the divine—to suffer every squeeze of pain and loneliness; to have that wretched thing in your chest just to feel human when you are far from.

Sinners deserved to have a heart more than the winners, if only to bring the ache that comes with it.

But Alastor, he has no heart.

You’ve been told that the place where he should ache and hurt the most is missing. Incinerated before he ever materialized in Hell. Lost to fire.

He was a heinous monster when alive—most think he didn’t even have one when he was human.

He didn’t know the feeling of it plummeting from your chest to the pit of your stomach, or the way it could get caught in your throat. He was a demon through and through. He would never understand what it meant to be human.

You believed it despite wanting to see the best in him.

Alastor was your friend. One of your first after manifesting in Hell. You’d like to think that he trusted you a little more than the others in his life—that you were as special to him as he was to you.

However, you could never look past the ways he took care of his shady business. How he drenched himself in blood as if it were the only cure for his everlasting boredom. You especially could not stomach the way he dismissed his other supposed “friends”.

He kept you around, but for how much longer? You would never know.

Still, you allowed yourself to be strung along by his enchanting personality. You loved him the way the moon loves the sea—yearning, wanting. But he is beaming in the sky and you are at the bottom of the ocean.

You would never know what it was like to own souls, or drink whiskey until it burned, or smile forever. The same way he would never know a heart.

That was the wall you wordlessly put up between you and him.

And he never mentioned it, never wondered why you would stand a foot away when usually you were all over your friends. You suppose that he didn’t have the same ache in his chest.

Alastor is heartless. That much, you thought you knew.

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

Jealousy is a petty, ugly emotion.

To think that he even has the capacity to feel it makes Alastor’s skin crawl. He thought that he had abandoned such worthless feelings long ago.

Yet here he is, watching with envy bubbling in his stomach while you drape your arms around Angel’s neck, laughing at some horribly obscene joke he cracked. You were always like this—hands never to yourself when you wanted to show your love for others.

But for him, you were reserved—hands behind your back, standing an arms length away whenever you chatted.

At first he appreciated how hands-off you were when everyone else was usually so touchy. He never had to worry that you were going to be breathing down his neck or irritating him while he tried to read his morning paper.

Now, though, it irks him.

Not only because you and him have become quite close, sharing late night conversations and admiring the dark, red sky of Hell together on more than one occasion. That alone would have been enough to allow you the special privilege of clinging to him. But he’s also grown a soft spot for you—embarrassingly soft, and now he’s stuck pouting like an toddler not getting what he wants.

Attention. Attention that says you care about him the way you do everyone else.

Alastor knows his first course of action should not be confrontation. That he shouldn't be cornering you with such a pouty, dramatic expression on his face like a child who just got told to put the toy back on the shelf.

But he can't help it when it comes to you. All inhibition is thrown to the wind.

"You're avoiding me," he accuses, static buzzing in his throat.

You raise a brow, back pressed to the bookshelf behind you. "I'm not," you tell him for what must be the fifth time.

"You are!" He narrows his eyes.

"I don't know what you're talking about," you press, slightly irritated by his sudden attack. What is he going on about?

You think back, wondering if you'd been unintentionally ignoring the demon in any way. It's been business as usual, as far as you can remember.

"Are you really this oblivious?" He tilts his head, ears flopping to the side. "You are unbelievable, cher."

You squeak in surprise when he gathers your hand into his, soft skin raked gently by his claws. He's careful not to hurt you as he maneuvers you around.

He presses your palm firm to his chest where his heart should be. And instead of the hollow emptiness you expect, you find the chorus of his heartbeat.

It sings slow and steady, pulsing faintly beneath the pads of your fingers. You don't even realize that you've been holding your breath, as if just that minute action would cause him to draw away.

Alastor's fingers curl a little tighter around your palm and you finally suck in a sharp breath of air. A small smile settles on your face, cheeks growing warm from the contact.

"It... It's—"

"A heartbeat," he tells you, reaching down to pull your other hand to his throat. You feel the rhythm at his pulse point, the tandem beats filling you with ease.

All this time you had believed that Alastor was heartless. That he did not have the capacity to hold other people dear.

You blink at him, dumbfounded. When did he open up his heart to you?

He sighs indignantly, leaning down toward you with a strange look on his face. As he does, the pace beneath your fingers increases, pounding faster than your own.

Alastor stays there for a moment, staring at you stubbornly with his smile curled into something more exasperated. You can't decipher what kind of conflict is dripping from every part of his expression, instead too focused on trying to keep your breath.

The drumming beat coursing from his body through yours rips away from you, leaving your hands dangling in the air. He brushes off his coat, unable to meet your eyes anymore.

"Do you understand now?"

You're not entirely sure you do—if you ever can, but you nod anyway.

He coughs, his usual demeanour quickly slipping into something unprecedented. Is he... flustered?

"Very good," he says, more to himself than to you. You don't miss the way his ears flatten above his head. "Then I expect the same treatment as everybody else."

You pull your hands back to yourself as he stalks off, muttering to himself.

They're impossibly warm.

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dumbseee · 1 year ago

Text

insecurity.

f1 au/fic: in which, lando and y/n have been dating for a few months, but fans are still talking about y/n’s past relationship. making lando feel insecure and questioning y/n’s feelings for him.

lando norris x singer!reader

(fc: jess alexander)

note: english isn’t my first language so excuse me for the mistakes this might have xx ALSO it’s the first time that i’m actually writing something so i hope it’s not too bad lmao. thank you for reading my aus btw <3

liked by landonorris, maxfewtrell, danielricciardo and 2 799 009 others.

y/n: happy birthday to my sun, you’re such a beautiful soul, i’m so proud to call you mine. i love you to the moon and back and promise to always love you.

landonorris: i love you more baby

danielricciardo: we’re at practice and he’s crying btw

fan1: they’re so absjdkdoldel

fan2: mama y papa

fan3: he always smile so brightly when he’s looking at her :(

fan4: i’m sorry but i can’t help but think about y/n’s ex… on the same day last year she was posting pictures of him

fan5: @.fan4 don’t do that… it’s about lando, not her ex

fan6: am i tripping or she also used to call her ex, her « sun »??

fan7: @.fan6 WHAT

fan8: @.fan6 no she didn’t?

lando sighed and threw his phone on his bed. of course he saw all the tweets about you and your stupid ex, how could he ignore them when it was all over the internet. people were speculating about if he was a rebound or a toy for you. lando was hurt, he always thought that you were way out of his league anyways so he should’ve seen it coming, right? you were an amazing and worldwide known singer, with your angelic voice and heartbreaking lyrics. you sang with your heart which made anyone who was listening to you, fall in love immediately.

that’s what happened with lando. he was always a big fan of yours, singing your songs on top of his lungs at parties, and following every single news about you, he even went to your concerts. one day, he went viral for singing your song on the radio with his engineer, he also happened to have made it to p3, which he said was because you were his lucky charm. the video was published online and went viral, you saw it and immediately found it adorable. the rest was history.

when you guys hard launched your relationship to the world, the big majority was happy for you two, happy to see you smile and happy to see that lando managed to get his crush. but a small minority saw that relationship as a rebound for you, saying horrible things about how you never loved lando and how you would dump him in a few months to go back to your one true love, your ex.

lando saw it all. and he hated it.

"lando? are you okay?" you asked, when you went to check in on him. he was supposed to bring a few blankets so you guys could watch a movie together. but he was taking way too much time so you went to see if he was okay.

"do you love me y/n?" he asked you, and the sadness in his eyes almost made you cry. lando’s eyes was what you loved the most about him, with his smile of course, but his gorgeous green eyes were full of emotions, you could drown in them and feel every little thing he was feeling just by looking at him.

"what are you talking about? of course i love you lando." you say, taking his hand in yours and softly kissing his knuckles. you saw him close his eyes and sigh deeply. you pushed him on the bed and sat next to him. "what happened?"

"it’s stupid, don’t worry about it." he finally looked up at you and faked a smile but it didn’t fool you.

"lando. tell me." you were still holding his hand and with your free hand you started to caress his cheek. he closed his eyes again and melted against your touch.

"your fans are still talking about your past relationship and how i’m nothing but a rebound to you." he said it in such a low tone you almost didn’t hear him. but sadly you heard his words and you could feel your heart shatter at how your fans words affected him. "i know that you guys stayed together for a while, and i know that you wrote good songs about him, i listened to them all, but… if you still love him you can-…"

"lando norris." you said in a serious tone, which startled him. "how am i supposed to love anyone else when you stole my heart and refuse to give it back?" his eyes lit up a little by your words. "and i literally wrote 56 songs about how much i love you so you better listen to them all once again and never doubt my feelings for you ever again, boy."

liked by landonorris, carlossainz55, charlottesiine and 6 808 009 others.

y/n: ‘you are in love’ is officially out ;) little gift from me to you sweet lan <3

maxfewtrell: lando listened to it and locked himself in the bathroom to cry

landonorris: @.maxfewtrell FAKE NEWS

danielricciardo: i wish someone would write 57 songs about me…

heidiberger_: @.danielricciardo excuse me? (great song btw y/n!)

liked by y/n.

fan1: ZKSKSLXPODOSOZ

fan2: y/n making haters eat their words with one song: queen behaviour

fan3: i hope haters will stop hating on lando now how can you say that y/n is using him as a rebound

fan4: CALL 911 IM ON THE VERGE OF DEATH

fan5: y/n writing a love song for lando on his birthday :(

fan6: i love them so much pls

fan7: that whole drama about her ex was so dumb, they broke up for a reason and y/n also wrote songs about how awful he was to her towards the end of their relationship, why do you guys want her to go back to that dog?

liked by y/n.

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starstruckmiraclekitty · 2 years ago

Note

what about the 141 boys and konig rejecting the reader to keep things professional but when she starts getting closer with someone on base they try to get her back

Thanks for this one. I hope this is what you were looking for!🙂

141 + König Rejecting Reader, Then Regretting It

Warnings: angst, fluff at the end, swearing, crying

(Not me using this Simon gif again because it makes me weak in the knees🫡)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Simon Ghost Riley-

It wasn't that Simon didn't like you. He truly did. It was more so the fact that he was your lieutenant, your superior, and he couldn't put you both at risk like that by accepting your romantic advances.

He'd felt horrible, his insides churning when he'd rejected you. He watched as your face fell in defeat and how you struggled not to cry in front of him. He didn't know how to make the situation better or what to say, so he watched as you fled from the room, wondering if you'd ever talk to him again.

He thought he'd be able to work through it. Work through knowing that you felt the same about him and that he blew it. But then came König.

You two had been friends for some time, but lately you two had seemed...closer. He saw the two of you together more frequently, whether it be training together, eating together, or even sitting on the couch together after missions. What hurt Simon the most was the fact that you seemed... happy with him.

The more Simon thought about it, the more he started to beat himself up. Thinking that his time was limited, he decided to talk to you about it. He just hoped that he wasn't too late.

He found you later that night, finishing up at the shooting range. He was thankful everyone else had gone to bed, leaving you two alone.

"Y/N." Simon called out, grabbing your attention. You whirled around to meet him face to face and gave the best smile you could muster. You hadn't really spoken to him since he rejected you, and the ache in your heart was still present.

"Sir." You nodded, waiting for him to continue.

Simon scratched at the back of his head nervously, unsure of what to say next. He had it planned out in his head, but now that you were here in front of him, his mind was a jumbled mess. "Don't date him."

Your eyes widened slightly as you absorbed his words. "I'm sorry? Date who?"

"König." Simon's voice came out cracked, and you could tell that he was nervous, an emotion not commonly associated with the masked man.

"König? Why would I be dating him?" You asked, bemused.

"I've seen the two of you together, and you seem... happy with him." Simon was avoiding your eyes, the mask he wore, unable to hide the emotions he was feeling.

You took a deep breath as you regarded the man carefully. Your mind was racing with a million different thoughts. Why did he care if you dated König? He was the one who rejected you.

"Why do you care if I do?" You tried, curious to see his reasoning. It wasn't like it was against the rules to date him. He wasn't in your squad.

Simon let out a huff of frustration, clearly annoyed at the situation, at the fact you couldn't just understand what he was trying to say. Words didn't come easy to Simon, and he wasn't sure what to say to make you understand.

"I don't want you to." Is all he was able to say.

"You don't want me to? Simon, what the hell is that supposed to mean? If this is because of us, you're the one who rejected me. And now you're telling me you don't want me seeing other people? I don't understand why-"

In a matter of seconds, Simon's balaclava was torn off, revealing his handsome face as he swiftly moved toward you, crashing his lips to yours, effectively cutting you off.

The kiss was brief, fleeting, as before you could even register what was happening, he was pulling away.

"Simon?" You asked, breathless as your cheeks began to burn pink.

"I don't want you to be with anyone, but me." His voice was barely above a whisper, but you'd still heard him.

"Simon, you told me no. You said that it wasn't smart and-"

"Fuck being smart. I can't get you out of my head, kid. You're always there. I've thought for so long that I'm better off alone, and I was okay with that. Until you. And for the first time in a long fucking time, I want something for myself. I want you."

You felt tears starting to form in your eyes as you watched him struggle for words. This was a side of Simon you've never seen before. He was showing you his vulnerability. "If you truly want me, Simon, I'm yours."

His ears perked up slightly as he lifted his gaze back to you. You saw a ghost of a smile on his lips as you slowly moved to cup his cheek. You let your eyes rake across his handsome features before landing them back on his lips. "Kiss me, Simon Riley."

And he did.

König-

"König. Do you have a second?" You asked, approaching the hooded mass of a man timidly.

"Of course, Maus. What's up?" He gave you a warm smile before turning back to scrub at the dirty hood in his hands.

"I was.. I wanted to tell you that I have feelings for you. They've gotten hard to ignore, and I felt I should tell you." You said, your voice shaking slightly.

You heard König sigh deeply as he turned his gaze to you. "We can't. It's not ethical. I'm sorry."

He turned back to his hood, giving the impression that the conversation was over.

You let out a shaky breath as you struggled to keep your composure. "Of course. I understand."

You quickly turned on your heel and fled from his room, desperate for him to not see you cry.

König listened to your fading footsteps and sighed deeply. He felt terrible. He honestly didn't know you felt the same way and frankly didn't know how to react. He'd liked you for a long time but was scared that being romantically entagled in this sort of field wasn't beneficial for either of you. It didn't help that he was terrible with words as well.

He was planning on approaching you about it, to try and smooth things over, but every time he tried, you were with Ghost.

He knew you and Ghost had a close relationship, but lately, it seemed to strengthen in a way that had Königs heart constricting.

Everywhere he went, there you were with the masked lieutenant. König was no fool. He'd heard the whispers of the women on base, even the men, of how attractive Ghost was. König could only hope that you weren't one of the ones that felt that way.

A few days had passed since the two of you spoke, and König was starting to lose his mind. He couldn't bear not talking to you, and as the days went on, he was terrified he'd lose you to Ghost.

König had decided to approach you during lunch one day, not caring that you were sitting next to your Lieutenant.

"Maus, can I speak with you." He asked, clearing his throat to get your attention away from Ghost.

You turned to König with a small smile, nodding your head. "Sure. What's up?"

"Alone, if that's okay." He murmured, turning his head toward the door.

You followed him wordlessly to the weapons room, and fortunately for the two of you, it was empty.

"Are...are you with him?" König stuttered out, his cheeks burning with shame as he ripped off his hood.

"Who, Ghost? No, he's just a friend. Same as you." You said, your voice laced with disdain.

Königs eyes left yours as they landed on the ground beneath you. He didn't know what to say. It was clear you were still upset with him, not that he could blame you.

"Is that all you wanted to ask me? If I'm with Ghost?" You asked, bouncing on the heels of your feet. The tension was palpable between the two of you, and you wanted nothing more than to run from it.

"I wanted that to be me. The one laughing with you. The one you went to after a long day. The one you wanted to be around." He said, his voice characteristically soft.

"It was. Then you rejected me. I didn't know if you wanted me around anymore." You admitted, your voice breaking slightly.

"Don't ever ever say that. Hell would freeze over before I'd ever stop wanting your company." Königs voice was stern, a complete contrast to how he was speaking moments before. "I want you, Y/N. I was a moron to reject you. I thought I was doing what was best, and then you pulled away completely. And I saw you with him. I just.. I dont.."

You took a step toward him and placed a warm hand on his cheek. "König."

He stopped his rambling as his eyes met yours once more. His eyes fluttered shut as your hand drifted down his cheek softly, your thumb slowly carrying his bottom lip.

You stood on your toes, barely able to reach his cheek with your mouth, and placed a soft kiss on his cheek. "It's okay, Kö."

His eyes opened as he looked down at you, a toothy grin making its way to his lips. "Be mine, Maus."

You nodded, and he was quick to press his lips to yours. His lips were softer than you'd imagined they'd be, and he wrapped his arms around you, hugging you closely as if he thought you'd leave if he didn't. Little did he know, in his arms was the only place you'd ever wanted to be.

Johnny Soap MacTavish-

You've never been so embarrassed in your life. You'd been in love with Johnny for years, and you truly had thought he felt the same. You thought that you made it to a point in your friendship that you could finally tell him how you felt.

So when he flat out rejected you, you were surprised, to say the least. He'd told you that while he respected that that's how you felt, he couldn't in good conscious get into a relationship with you. It wouldn't be professional.

You avoided him for a few days after that, as you were too embarrassed and hurt to face him. Johnny was no better. He felt horrible after you left and wondered if he made the right call. You were the love of his life. He just didn't think he deserved you, and he was so scared thinking about you getting hurt out in the field because of him.

What hurt him the most, though, was the fact that you started to hang out a lot more with Reyes, one of the guys from SpecGru who'd been on base a few weeks. The way you treated him was the way you treated Johnny before he went and screwed everything up.

Johnny began to find it impossible not to get riled up every time he saw you with Reyes. It was clear the Canadian had an interest in you, and the thought of you two being together had Johnny's insides churning.

Later that night, you'd walked into your room and were met face to face with Johnny, who was sitting on your bed.

"I'm a fool, Y/N." Johnny's voice caught your attention as you walked through your door.

"Jesus, Johnny. Scared the shit out of me. What are you doing here?" Your hand flew to your heart as you caught your breath.

"Sorry. I just uh. I wanted to talk." His eyes flitted down to his hands, as he began to fiddle with a hang nail.

"About?" You crossed your arms defensively, desperate to protect the little piece of your heart he hadn't already hurt.

"I shouldn't have turned you down. I was a fool. I thought, by turning you away, I'd keep you safe. That our feelings for each other wouldn't get in the way of our responsibilities if I just ignored how I felt."

"And what changed in a matter of days?" Your tone was icy, and it made Johnny shudder. It wasn't a tone he liked being on the receiving end of, but he couldn't fault you for it.

"I saw you. With Reyes." Johnny admitted, his head downturned in shame. He didn't want to admit he was jealous, but it tore him up inside to see you laughing, and happy with a man that wasn't him.

"So you're only telling me this because you're jealous."

"No. I'm telling you this because I've harbored feelings for you for years. I tried to push you away because I thought it was what was best. And I was wrong. Seeing you with Reyes made me realize that. I want you, Y/N. I always have. I just hope I'm not too late." You heard his voice quiver slightly toward the end, and it made your defensive walls crumble.

"You want me, Johnny? Truly?" You asked, standing straight as you watched him watch you.

Johnny stood off your bed and strode up to you. "I've wanted you since I first laid eyes on you."

And that was all that was needed for you to press your lips to his. The man you'd been in love with for years, was finally yours.

John Price-

"While I respect how you feel, it's inappropriate. You're my subordinate, I'm your superior." John stated curtly. He watched as your shoulders slumped in defeat, as you struggled to maintain a neutral expression.

"Understood, sir. I apologize for bringing it up." You gave a firm nod as you turned to the door.

"Y/N. Don't beat yourself up over it."

"Of course, sir. Enjoy your day." You a small smile before exiting, letting the tears free fall once you made it far enough away from his office.

Price slouched forward in his chair and ran his hands along his face. He felt like a total asshole. He wasn't blind. He knew you had feelings for him, and he'd be a liar if he said he didn't return them.

You were his ray of sunshine in every sense of the word, and he'd do anything for you. He just knew the risks that came with superior/subordinate relationships, and he wasn't okay with those. He didn't want to see you get hurt because of him.

A few days passed since the incident, and he'd seen no sign of you. You usually would start your mornings with him, but he hadn't seen you since that day in his office.

He made his way to the cafeteria, stopping short when he saw you sitting with Soap.

Price gritted his teeth as he watched you joke around with him. He knew it was childish, immature even. While he was doing his best to push his feelings for you aside, you were making it impossible for him.

It went on like this for nearly a week. Every time that you'd usually come to see Price, he'd now find you hanging out with the scot.

He'd finally had enough of it, his jealousy getting the better of him, as he stormed off to his office.

"Hey, Price told me to send you to his office." Gaz had informed you later that day.

"Oh? Am I in trouble?" You questioned, chuckling lightly.

"Who knows, he does seem a little grumpy today." Kyle sent you a sympathetic smile before walking toward the barracks.

"Great." You murmured as you made your way to Price's office.

"Y/N." John greeted you as you walked through the door. "Close the door."

"Sir. What can I do for you?" You asked, pushing the door closed with a slam. Price never called you into his office like this.

He watched you for a moment, not saying anything as he carefully studied your movements. He could tell you were nervous.

"Did you mean what you said?" He asked, regarding you carefully as he slowly started to talk toward you.

"What are you referring to, sir?" You knew what he was asking, but you didn't feel like being shut down yet again by the man.

"You said you have feelings for me." He continued to stalk toward you. "I'm asking if that was that true?"

You gulped audibly as you began to step backward, away from him. "Yes, sir. But I realize that it was inappropriate."

"I'm your captian."

"I know."

"Your boss."

"I know."

"The man who's hands you put your life in, every time I send you out on a mission."

"I know."

John stared at you, his gaze intense as he tried to read you. He wanted to know what was going on in that beautiful head of yours. "And, I'm the man that's going to make you scream out his name tonight."

Your breath hitched in your throat as you watched him carefully. He'd effectively backed you into the corner of his office, and you'd heard the "click" of the lock on his door.

"But you said-"

"Fuck what I said. I'm done doing this dance. There's no point in beating around the bush any longer. I want you, and I want this. If you want me, get over here."

Your body reacted before your brain could catch up, as you threw yourself onto John, your lips latching to his in a heated, desperate kiss.

Needless to say, John was a man of his word, and it didn't take long before he had you screaming his name that day, and many others to come.

Kyle Gaz Garrick-

"It wouldn't work between us. We've both got so much going on, and with this job, I think it would be a bit too much for us to handle." Kyle said, smiling sadly.

"Oh! Yeah, sure. That makes sense. I get it." You nodded your head vigorously, your eyes moving anywhere but your best friends face. "Silly of me to even bring it up."

"Y/N." Kyle started, trying to walk up to you.

"No. No, really. It's okay. I have to go anyway, I have a bunch of stuff to do." You gave him a sad smile before briskly making your way out of the room.

Kyle felt his stomach drop as he heard a sniffle come from the hallway, knowing it was you. The more he rethought what he said to you, the worse he felt. He's had feelings for you for quite some time, but he was always too worried to act on it. His job meant the world to him, and frankly, he was scared of that being jeopardized.

Desperate to try to repair your relationship, however, he set out to find you.

Kyle found you later that day in the training room, practicing hand to hand combat with Alejandro.

He felt his blood boil at the way the man touched you. He knew it wasn't fair to Alejandro, but seeing him touch you like that sparked something in Kyle. It was in that moment that he knew he didn't want to push down his feelings for you any longer.

"Mind if I take over?" He asked as he approached. "Been needing to blow off some steam."

You and Alejandro stopped mid fight, the two of you struggling to catch your breath. "Alright, hermana, same time tomorrow?"

"Of course. Thank you for helping, by the way." You slapped his shoulder playfully .

"Anytime. Kyle, be seeing you." He gave Kyle a pat on the back as he made his way out.

Silence fell in the room as you and Kyle watched Alejandro leave.

"Hey." Kyle said after some time.

"Hey." You replied, rubbing at your arm nervously. "Did you actually want to train or?"

Kyle swallowed thickly, his eyes darting around the room. "I just wanted to talk. I felt bad. For earlier."

"Nothing to apologize for. You said your peace and I can't fault you for that." You gave him a sad smile.

"No, I'm sorry, love. I shouldn't have turned you down. I thought in the moment I was doing the right thing."

"And now?"

"And now, I realize that the only right thing for me is you." The sincerity in his voice had your heart skipping a beat, as you let out a breath you didn't know you were holding in. "I was a fool for thinking otherwise. You're all I want."

"What will you do about it?" You asked, your eyes flickering to his lips.

"If you'll let me, I'd kiss you." He gave you a warm smile as he leaned down toward you, his warm breath fanning across your lips. Your eyes falling shut was all the consent he needed.

And, after waiting for nearly 5 years, you'd finally gotten the kiss you'd been waiting for, with the man you loved.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: Thanks for reading!

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deanstead · 5 months ago

Text

Going Home

Pairing: Derek Morgan x Reader

Requested: no

Summary: Y/N returns early from her time off but Derek notices something's off.

Word Count: 1.1K

Tags/Warnings: established relationship, allusions to physical violence (sorta?)

A/N: Of course, my first Derek Morgan piece has to be extremely self-indulgent. Enjoy!

Your cheek still smarted, as if it had just happened. The mark across your face had faded already, but anyone observant would be able to tell.

But of course, you had to work with the most observant people. They’d probably be able to tell what you were thinking even without such obvious signs.

The only thing you were thankful for was that they were probably not back yet. If you were quick, you could slip in, leave the signed form on Hotch’s desk and be out of there without running into Penelope.

Even with that thought, you put a mask on, just to be safe.

You’d asked for the week off for personal matters and only Hotch knew you’d been called home to check on your mother. As you'd already expected, Hotch had told you to take all the time you needed. No one know how much you dreaded going back there. Not even Derek.

You didn’t care that your parents considered you a disappointment despite the fact that you were working in the most elite team in the FBI. You didn’t even care when your father had hollered that he was cutting you off, and you didn’t care that they had never once remembered your birthday or even showed up for your graduation.

You didn’t care.

All you had wanted was to stay as far away as possible.

What you really hated was the way you caved when they called. You told yourself not to go, but the tiny voice in your gut wondered if there was something up, if there was something serious going on, and if you would regret it.

And you had. You regretted going back to that horrible house to stand in the living room as they asked you for money so they could send your brother abroad.

You opened your mouth and then closed it.

What were you supposed to say? Or ask? You were dumbfounded.

When you finally found your voice again, all your emotions flowed with it, “What am I, a cash cow?”

That had only earned you a tight slap across your face. This wasn’t the first time this had happened, but you didn’t remember him ever using this much force.

At least your mother and brother looked apologetic but you were no longer that teenager who had no choice but to take all this lying down. So you’d turned right back around and headed all the way back home.

Home.

You shook your head quickly. You hadn’t meant to get so lost in your thoughts. Grabbing a pen from your desk, you quickly signed the document and headed up to Hotch’s office, leaving it on his desk before hightailing it out of there.

You’d almost made it.

Until the elevator doors opened, and you were staring back at your team.

“Hey!” The chorus of smiles and greetings echoed in your ears, a treatment that was totally different from what you’d just experienced a few hours ago at what was supposed to be home, and you felt the sting of tears as you smiled.

You stepped to the side with Hotch as the rest of the team scattered.

“Y/N, we weren’t expecting you so soon. I told you to take the time you needed.” Hotch's expression was stoic as usual but his voice was filled with concern and you didn’t miss the way his eyes raked across your face even though he could only see your eyes.

You smiled and nodded. “It's handled. I just came by to hand in the HR form since I was back in town. I’ll be here tomorrow.” You paused. “If that’s okay.”

Hotch studied you for a while more before he nodded. “Tomorrow.”

You turned away to leave before you felt someone grab your hand.

“Where do you think you're going?” Derek’s warm voice filled your ears.

You hadn’t even realized he’d been waiting.

“Hey.” You smiled. “I was gonna call you when I got home.”

Even as you spoke, your eyes darted upward. You’d been dating for a while, and the team knew, but both you and Derek had kept it pretty low-key especially around here.

“Fine, come here.” Derek said quietly, almost dragging you to his office, closing the blinds and shutting the door behind the both of you.

You blinked at him, and the frown reappeared on his face now that the both of you were alone.

“Why are you wearing a mask? Did you catch something?” He asked, his voice dropping to one of concern, the gentle tone that was reserved just for you when you were alone.

Before you could say anything, he put his hand up to feel for a temperature.

Instinctively, as if you couldn’t control your own body, you flinched. It was just a little, like you were leaning your cheek away from him but this was Derek Morgan, and he caught it.

Derek’s frown deepened.

“Derek, I…”

He didn’t say anything, merely reaching behind your ears to take off your mask.

“Derek, wait…” You tried to stop him but it was too late.

The mask slid off your face. Derek slid his hand along the side of your neck, angling your face gently toward him so that he could take a look at what you’d been hiding from him. “Let me see.”

You recognized the moment his eyes registered the mark across your face. The quiet rage that flashed in his eyes as he realized you’d been hurt, the confusion about why you hadn’t come straight to him - you recognized them all.

“What happened? Who did this?” His voice was low and you could hear the concerted effort it took for him to keep his voice steady.

You looked back at him and you sighed. “It’s nothing, Derek. It’s done.”

Derek just looked back at you quietly.

Suddenly, you didn’t feel like pretending that it was okay anymore. You stepped forward, melting into the safety of Derek's arms as he pulled you tightly into him, his arms wrapping securely around you.

“I got you.” He whispered. “No matter what.”

You just nodded, burying your face into his shoulder, even though you weren’t really supposed to do this in the office.

“I’ll tell you at home.” You mumbled.

Derek just nodded, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Alright, come on. We’re going home.”

Home.

The word bounced around your skull and you smiled, knowing that this was it. You’d always told yourself that the day the words “going home” no longer made your heart sink, you’d know.

And you knew. You didn't have a single doubt in your mind.

Derek pulled away gently, wrapping his arm around your shoulder as he led you back out of his office so the both of you could do exactly that.

#derek morgan x reader #resa.fics #derek morgan #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #derek morgan x y/n #derek morgan oneshot #derek morgan fanfic #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds oneshot #derek morgan imagine

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childrenofcain-if · 2 months ago

Note

How would the RO's change MC died after they were romanced?

C LACROIX

C wasn’t made for grief.

they were made for insulting words and cutting smiles, for elegant lines and perfected exteriors. loss was not something they wore well; it settled wrong, like a coat several sizes too heavy, dragging them down. they didn’t know how to process it, not when they first heard the news, not when they saw your body, not even in the quiet moments afterward when the world felt like it had slipped out from under them and left them hollow.

it was a plane crash. nothing grand or cinematic, just a routine flight that went horribly wrong, the kind of accident that everyone reads about but never imagines happening to someone they love. one second, you had been flying back from a conference, and the next, you were gone. just like that. no warning, no chance to say goodbye.

C had stared at the TV when the news broke, their face frozen in something close to disbelief, their hand still clutching his phone like maybe, just maybe, you would call and say it was all a mistake. it was supposed to be a big fucking joke, wasn’t it? it had to be. you were too alive to just disappear. you were too vivid, too present, too… everything.

when the silence settled, after the news anchor had moved on to some other tragedy, C let their phone fall from their hand. the sound of it hitting the floor was distant, a hollow echo that meant nothing. everything meant nothing.

they never cried. not at the funeral, not during the long, agonizing weeks that followed. people expected them to, C could tell. they waited for the breakdown, the outpouring of emotion, the proof that C.A. Lacroix was, in fact, human. but it never came. instead, they stood by your grave, their hands in the pockets of their coat, their eyes as dry as the winter air around them.

“i always thought i’d be the one to leave first,” they said quietly, their voice almost drowned out by the wind. it was a bitter truth. C had lived their life like they were invincible, like nothing could touch them. and now, standing there in front of the cold stone with your name etched into it, they realized how utterly foolish that had been.

one night, weeks after the funeral, C found themself in your apartment that you’d rented after graduation, sitting on the edge of your bed. the door had been left unlocked for them by the landlord, who had given them a look of pity before leaving them alone with the memories.

the apartment was the same as it had always been. same stupid art that C had painted on the walls. same worn leather couch. same lingering scent of lavender in the air—so faint now it was barely there, but enough to make their throat tighten. they walked through the space like a sleepwalker, their fingers brushing absentmindedly over the coffee table, the kitchen counter, the handle of your favorite mug.

this is it, they thought. this is all that’s left of you.

they then proceeded to walk to your bedroom. it was untouched, as if you might walk in at any moment. they picked up one of your books from the bedside table, thumbed through the pages without really seeing the words. it was a tattered old paperback you’d read a dozen times. they flipped through the pages, stopping at the footnotes you’d scribbled in the margins, half-formed thoughts, sarcastic remarks, things you’d meant to tell them but never got the chance to.

their fingers traced the words as if that action would bring you back to them.

“you were always smarter than you’d think,” C murmured to the empty room, their voice rough, broken at the edges.

but there was no answer. there never would be.

the door creaked slightly, and C’s heart leapt for a fraction of a second before reality crashed back down. It wasn’t you. it would never be you again. they closed their eyes, trying to will the ache away, but it only spread deeper, gnawing at the hollow space you had left behind.

***

for a long time, they did nothing. they went through the motions of life—work, social engagements, even the occasional meaningless flirtation—but it was all mechanical. they weren’t there, not really. they were somewhere else, trapped in the memory of what you two had, of all the things they never said to you when they had the chance. the words that stuck in their throat now were the ones they’d dismissed as unimportant then.

because they thought you still had time.

“come back,” C would whisper into the dark of their empty apartment one night, drunk and foolish. “you’re supposed to be here, damn it.”

C hated how small their voice sounded. they hated the vulnerability that seeped in when no one was watching, when the mask they wore for the world slipped just enough for the cracks to show. they didn’t want to be vulnerable. not to anyone. especially not to a ghost.

***

years passed like water through cupped hands, but it didn’t heal the way it was supposed to. instead, it twisted the wound, making it fester in the quiet moments. C became colder, more rough. people commented on it behind their back, how they’d changed, how they’d become more distant. as if they hadn’t always been distant. they avoided relationships like a plague, finding them tiresome, pointless.

they took to spending more time alone. alone felt safe. alone meant no one could disappoint them. alone was all they had now.

***

C never married. they never loved anyone after you, not in the way that mattered. there were flings, of course—fleeting, shallow things that never stuck. they didn’t want them to stick. they’d feel sick everytime afterwards; it was a subconscious way to punish themself.

when C died, at the age of 74, it was in a quiet, sterile hospital room, their body finally betraying them to some nameless illness they didn’t care enough to fight. no one was at their bedside. no family, no lovers, no friends. just them, alone, the way they had spent the last decades of their life.

the nurse who came to check on them found a small silver bracelet on their wrist, the only piece of jewelry they ever wore. it had been there for as long as anyone could remember, though no one ever asked them about it. but rumours are fickle, and there were many. they believed it belonged to the only soul C had ever loved; they’d be right.

alas, there was no confirmation. C never talked about their past, never spoke of the person who had owned their heart so completely all those years ago. but the bracelet stayed with them until the very end, a quiet reminder of the love that had once been, the love that had shaped them in ways no one could see.

and so C.A. Lacroix left the world as they had lived in it—cold, distant, and untouchable. they were buried next to an heir who died young, a fortune to their name which C had inherited and then donated to several charities around the globe.

V NÆSHOLM

V would’ve never imagined that their life could unravel so completely in the span of a single, terrible moment. they’d spent so much time wrapped up in their faith, in the steady rhythm of prayer and the familiar weight of their cross resting against their chest, that the thought of losing you seemed almost impossible, even when they whispered it in the quietest corners of their mind.

but now, you were gone, and all V could do was stand there in the hospital room, staring at the empty bed, their mind slow to catch up with the horrifying finality of it all.

it had been a car accident. quick, brutal, unexpected. you had been walking home, your usual route through the city, nothing unusual. just a random, terrible twist of fate—a driver who wasn’t paying attention, a red light ignored. and then the call. V had gotten the call, their heart dropping into their stomach the moment they heard the voice on the other end, calm but clipped, like they were just delivering bad news in a routine, detached way.

at first, V had held out hope. they’ll be fine, they told themself, clutching the metal cross around their neck so tightly the edges dug into their palm. they’re strong. they’ll be fine.

but you weren’t fine. you didn’t wake up. you didn’t squeeze V’s hand back or open your eyes when V whispered their name. the machines hummed, the doctors muttered their apologies, and in the end, it was just… over.

***

in the days that followed, V couldn’t seem to find solid ground. the world tilted around them, spinning out of control, but they kept moving as if through thick, suffocating fog. people spoke to them—friends, family, even strangers at the funeral—but none of it registered. the condolences, the words of comfort, they slid off V like rain on glass, unable to penetrate the haze of disbelief and sorrow that wrapped around their heart.

they spent hours alone in the small church near their apartment, staring at the flickering candles that lined the altar. the scent of incense hung heavy in the air, but it didn’t soothe them the way it used to. nothing did. not the prayers, not the hymns, not even the familiar rhythm of the rosary beads sliding through their fingers. they prayed, but the words felt empty now. they didn’t know what they were asking for anymore. forgiveness? strength? understanding? none of those things seemed to matter when you were gone.

one evening, weeks after the funeral, V found themself at the spot where it happened. it wasn’t a conscious decision; they had just been walking, trying to escape the suffocating quiet of their apartment, and their feet had carried them there. the street was busy, cars rushing past, people laughing as they walked by, utterly unaware of the history beneath their feet. V stared at the pavement, at the place where you had fallen, and something inside them broke.

“i should’ve been there,” V whispered, their voice swallowed by the noise of the city. “i should’ve… i should’ve done something”

they didn’t know how they could’ve stopped it, but the guilt was there, gnawing at their insides like a slow, relentless tide. they wrapped their arms around themself, clutching at their cross like it was the only thing holding them together. but the truth was, they weren’t holding together. not really.

“i don’t understand,” they murmured, their voice trembling. “i don’t understand why god took you. you didn’t—” their voice broke, and they pressed a hand to their mouth, the tears coming faster now, hot and relentless. “it wasn’t supposed to be like this.”

V stood there for what felt like hours, the world blurring around them as their tears blurred their vision. they had no answers, no solace. only the terrible, aching silence of a world without you in it.

***

in the months that followed, V’s faith began to falter. they went through the motions, attending church, praying before bed, but it all felt distant, disconnected. the questions swirled in their mind, louder and more insistent with each passing day. why would god take someone so good, so full of life? what kind of plan was this? V had always believed in a higher purpose, in the idea that everything happened for a reason, but now? now, nothing made sense.

V stopped wearing their cross. they couldn’t pinpoint exactly when it happened—one day, they just forgot to put it on, and then the next day, and the next. eventually, it stayed in the drawer by their bed, tucked away like a relic of a life that no longer made sense. their prayers, once a source of comfort, felt like words spoken into a void. and V, for the first time in their life, felt truly alone.

***

time passed, but the ache never really went away. V learned to live with it, the way one learns to live with an old wound that never quite heals. they moved on, or at least that’s what everyone said. they got a new job, met new people, filled their days with distractions. but every time they walked past the spot where you had died, they felt that same hollow ache in their chest, the same weight of regret pressing down on them.

V never got married. they didn’t believe in soulmates anymore, not in the way some people did, but they knew deep down that they’d never love anyone the way they’d loved you. they carried that love with them, quiet and steady, like a flame that never went out, even as the years blurred together and their hair turned gray.

when V died—peacefully, in their sleep, at the age of 83—they were found with an old, worn photo of you tucked under their pillow. the photo was crumpled and faded, but V’s fingers had held onto it until the very end. they were buried with it, and when the priest spoke at the funeral, he didn’t know the story behind the photo. he didn’t know how V had spent a lifetime missing someone they’d lost too soon, someone they’d never stopped loving.

but that love? it stayed with V, even in death.

W OSTENDORF

W had never been good at letting go. of anything. not of people, not of feelings. so when you died, it was like losing gravity, like the world had unmoored itself from beneath their feet and left them floating, untethered, in an endless, cold space.

for a while, they had you. they had you in all the small ways that mattered—the quiet moments in the morning when you would drink coffee together, the long, easy silences that wrapped around you like a second skin, the unspoken understanding that nothing could break them.

until something did.

it had been an illness, terminal and insidious. at first, W thought it was just exhaustion—long nights of work catching up with you, a bout of stress, nothing that couldn’t be fixed. but then the doctor’s visits turned into hospital stays, and the vague reassurances became grim warnings.

you got weaker, thinner, your voice a little quieter every day until W couldn’t ignore the gnawing dread that curled in their stomach every time they looked at you. you tried to be brave about it, for them, for everyone, but W could see it in your eyes—the fear, the acceptance.

“i’m not scared of dying,” you had told them one night, your hand trembling as you reached for them. “i’m scared of leaving you.”

W had kissed the top of your head, their lips pressed hard enough against your hair to hide the fact that they were shaking too.

“you’re not going anywhere,” they’d whispered, because the alternative was impossible. they couldn’t lose you. not you. not again

***

but you did go. slowly, painfully, slipping away in a way that left W feeling raw and powerless. they were there, at the end, holding your hand, their voice cracking as they begged you to stay. but you didn’t.

and W broke.

it wasn’t a loud break, not at first. it was quiet, a silent shattering of everything they had built around themself, a slow unraveling of the person who had once known how to smile, how to laugh, how to love. they went through the motions at the funeral, shaking hands, offering nods of thanks to the people who said they were sorry. they were all sorry, but what did it matter? sorry didn’t bring you back. sorry didn’t fill the gaping void that swallowed them whole every time they closed their eyes and saw the empty space beside them where you should’ve been.

***

in the weeks that followed, W became a shadow of themself. they stopped going out, stopped answering calls. their apartment was too big, too empty, every corner of it a reminder of the life they’d lost. the couch where you used to sit together. the kitchen where you would make fun of their terrible cooking. the bed—god, the bed—where your absence felt like a punch to the gut every night when they lay down and realized they’d never feel your warmth beside them again.

they didn’t cry, not really. not like they thought they would. the grief was too big for tears, too vast and strangling. instead, it weighed them down, pressed against their chest until it hurt to breathe. every morning, they woke up and went through their routine—shower, coffee, sit at their desk—but it was all mechanical, all pointless.

emerson tried to reach them, worried out of their mind. their aunt asked if they were okay. but W couldn’t answer them. they didn’t know how to explain that the person they had known, the person they used to be, had died the same day you did.

***

time passed, but it didn’t heal. W didn’t move on. they didn’t want to. moving on felt like a betrayal, like erasing the only part of them that still felt real. they didn’t go on dates, didn’t flirt or laugh or even think about love. they couldn’t. not without thinking of you, not without comparing everyone to you and finding them all lacking.

sometimes, late at night, W would pull out the old letters you had written them. small notes, tucked into books or left on the counter, filled with inside jokes and quiet declarations of love. they’d read them over and over until the words blurred, their vision clouding with tears they never let fall.

“i miss you,” they whispered one night, the paper crinkling in their trembling hands. “god, i miss you so much.”

the apartment echoed back in silence.

***

W never married, of course. people talked about it sometimes, behind their back, wondering why someone like them—successful, good-looking, with their whole life ahead of them—never found anyone else. they didn’t understand. they didn’t know what it was like to have your heart buried with someone else.

they grew older, their hair turning silver, their body slowing down in ways they hadn’t expected. but they kept going, day after day, carrying the weight of their grief with them like an old companion. it wasn’t sharp anymore, not like it had been, but it was always there, lingering at the edges of their mind, a dull, constant ache.

when W died, quietly in their sleep at the age of 79, they found them in their armchair, a book in their lap and a small silver band on their ring finger. it was worn, the inscription inside barely legible after all the years. but if you looked closely enough, you could still make out the initials: three letters which belonged to a young heir of a massive fortune who died a long time ago.

W hadn’t spoken about you in decades. they hadn’t needed to. you were always with them, in the silence of their apartment, in the spaces between their thoughts, in the worn pages of the notes they had never thrown away.

D DIACONU

D—rook, as many would know them—had always been too good at running. they knew how to leave feelings behind, how to laugh things off, how to keep people at arm’s length so nothing ever hurt.

“flighty little wolf,” mihail, their older brother, would laugh when they were younger. the sentiment didn’t lose itself even as D grew older.

it was easy, life was easy, until you. and suddenly, nothing was easy anymore. they were flirty by nature, playful, keeping everything light, but you were the exception to every rule D had lived by. the one person they couldn’t outrun.

but even then, D didn’t want to acknowledge it—not completely. love was an unwelcome thing, something that made people weak, made them care too much. so, they danced around it, avoided the word, kept things just close enough but never fully admitted it.

they were still D, still flirty, still detached on the surface. yet, whenever you were around, something about them softened in ways they’d never allowed before. in those moments, they were scared shitless. because what if one day you weren’t there? what if you disappeared like everything else D had been too afraid to love?

***

and then it happened. suddenly. the kind of thing that’s supposed to happen to other people, in distant stories, not to you. you were in an accident—an unforgiving, tragic turn of events that left D shattered. they were at the scene. D could still remember the way the sky looked, overcast and thick with grey, how the sirens sounded distant, like they were underwater. it wasn’t real. it couldn’t be real. they stood there, frozen, heart in their throat, staring at the wreckage that used to be a car, and everything in their world stopped moving.

D didn’t say a word, not to the paramedics, not to the people around them. they couldn’t. there was nothing to say. nothing mattered anymore. you were gone.

***

“you’d laugh if you knew,” D muttered under their breath one night, sitting alone in the corner of some dingy bar. they stared down at the half-empty glass in front of them, spinning it slowly between their fingers. “all this time, you thought i didn’t care. that i didn’t... feel. but here i am. utterly wrecked by you.”

they chuckled, but it was hollow. the kind of laugh that only came out when the truth was too heavy to hold in. because you had gotten under D’s skin in a way that no one else had. even after all those times D had told themself not to fall, not to let you get too close, it had happened anyway. and now, D was stuck with all these feelings they didn’t know how to handle.

so they write and write. songs after songs, pages after pages filled with their long-gone eternal muse. the band’s popularity skyrocketed, the producers milked it for as long as they could.

D could not bring themself to give a shit.

***

months passed, and D became a ghost in their own life. they showed up, sure, but it was like they weren’t really there. they’d skate through the days with the same careless swagger, but something was missing. people started to avoid them. it was too hard to be around someone who looked alive but was dead inside. it seemed like the only people who tried to be there for them at that point were their bandmates and C.

they would laugh it off when their friends asked if they were okay. “me? i’m fine. never better. just living, you know?” and they’d wink, flash that charming smile that always got them out of trouble.

but the world became smaller, dimmer. D moved from one party to the next, one high to the next, chasing something they couldn’t name, something they had lost with a bright-eyed heir with an evergreen heart. nights blurred into mornings, and nothing felt real anymore. nothing except the ache, the emptiness that had been left behind.

on some nights, after too many drinks and too many bad decisions, D would find themself sitting in a bathroom, staring at their reflection in the mirror. their pale face would be gaunt, their gray eyes hollow. they would look like a stranger.

rook didn’t know who they were anymore.

***

D died young. too young. it was late one night, after another wild party, and they had pushed things just a little too far. the drugs had been an easy fix—an easy way to drown out the feelings they didn’t want to face. but this time, their body couldn’t handle it. the paramedics found them slumped on the floor of a room at chelsea hotel, empty pill bottles scattered around like confetti from a life that had spiraled out of control.

but what was strange—what the paramedics couldn’t quite understand—was the look on D’s face. even in death, behind the glazed-over eyes and the pale, lifeless skin, there was a smile. a soft, almost peaceful smile, like D had finally found what they’d been searching for all along.

in the end, D had stopped running.

M WHITLOCK-SINGH

the news of your death came to M as a whisper, traveling through the rigid, polished halls of their life before it reached their ears. at first, it didn’t make sense. death, for someone like you, felt improbable, impossible even.

you had been everything untamed in M’s world, everything wild and unpredictable, a force of nature that couldn’t just stop. yet, the world had stilled. all the reckless plans you had made—the fleeting escapes, the late-night laughter—had ended in a way too final for M to comprehend.

M grieved in silence. royals were trained for composure, for duty above all else, and M had mastered that lesson too well. there were no public displays of despair, no headlines that suggested the depth of the loss they felt. even when they stood at your graveside, surrounded by others who wept openly, M stood perfectly still, a model of grace and solemnity. inside, though, their chest felt hollow, as if someone had reached inside them, twisted through the maze of their ribs and snatched their heart away.

after the funeral, M’s life became a carefully curated performance. they married—someone of equal status, someone safe and suitable—but it was all a façade, a slow march into an existence they hadn’t chosen. the marriage was a duty, a requirement. it lacked everything you had ever been. The late-night conversations that made the world feel infinite, the reckless plans that filled the air with electric energy—all of it was buried with you, and M was left with nothing but a name and a title they never cared for.

they’d close their eyes at night and still hear your voice, soft at first, then louder, like a song they couldn’t forget but could never play again. the world, once vibrant with you, felt drained of color. the laughter that used to spill from M’s lips was replaced by brittle smiles, the kind that didn’t touch their umber brown eyes.

they never spoke of you—not to their spouse, not to anyone. it was as though speaking their name aloud would unravel M’s delicate grip on sanity, on the life they were barely holding together.

***

a few years passed. M became more distant, more remote, even within the walls of the palace. their marriage grew cold, each day more formal and lifeless than the last. they were trapped, locked in a gilded cage with no way out. your memory remained, a quiet presence that lingered at the edges of M’s mind, haunting them with the life they could’ve had, the person they should’ve been.

there were whispers, of course. rumors about M’s detachment, their coldness, their increasing absence from royal duties. but no one knew why. no one could have guessed that their heart had been buried in the grave of a lover they couldn’t even publicly acknowledge.

***

a scandal. a disappearance.

the royal family awoke to find M gone, their accounts drained, their titles stripped of meaning. no one knew where they had gone, or why. the official story was vague—an extended sabbatical, perhaps—but there were no answers. their spouse, barely more than a stranger, said nothing. the media speculated for weeks, but no trace of M was found.

***

years later, in a small village (zaanse schans) in the netherlands, a farmer passed away in their sleep. they had been quiet, unremarkable, living in a modest cottage on the outskirts of the village. they kept to themself, never married, and was mostly known for their collection of british royal memorabilia. it wasn’t until after their death, when the local authorities came to settle their estate, that they discovered who they truly were.

a runaway royal. third-in-line after their mother and older sister.

the village was stunned. for all the years they had lived among them, no one had guessed their identity. but as they sorted through their belongings, the truth became undeniable. among the memorabilia were photographs—of you, smiling beside M in moments no one else had ever seen. there were letters, too, carefully folded and kept in a box, written in a hand that only M could recognize. letters that had never been sent, but that held all the words M had never been able to say.

the villagers spoke of them with quiet reverence, a kind and humble individual who had always paid their bills on time and helped their neighbors when they could. they didn’t know about the wealth that had quietly flowed into anonymous accounts over the years. they didn’t know about the palace, the titles, the life of privilege M had left behind. all they knew was that they had lived simply and that they had loved someone fiercely until the day they died.

***

and that was how they were remembered. not as a royal, not as someone of wealth or power, but as someone who had once loved deeply and had chosen, in the end, to live for that love, even if it meant leaving everything else behind.

M’s name would never appear in the official histories, but in that quiet village in the netherlands, they were remembered for who they truly were—someone who, despite it all, had found a way to keep you with them until the very end.

#was thinking this will be spoilers but i also got many asks for this so take this AU hehe #did not proofread #ro: c lacroix #ro: v næsholm #ro: w ostendorf #ro: d diaconu #ro: m whitlock singh #if: the ballad of the young gods #interactive fiction #interactive novel #twine wip #interactive story #tw: drugs

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ssentimentals · 9 days ago

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hey i wanted to request soft promt 37 with lando... idk its just really lando coded

i love you forever for sending me f1 prompts!! 💜 and it IS lando coded, thank you for requesting and i hope you'll like it!

fluff prompt: 'it's not a double date, we're just third and fourth wheeling.'

lando adjusts his jacket for the third time, ignoring carlos and his pointedly amused stare. he obviously has it easy - his girlfriend is right next to him and they both are sickeningly in love with each other, so it's not like he has to woo her with his appereance. unlike lando, who is very much single and has a job to woo you with his appereance. shit, does he have time to go back and change?

'cabron, you're overthinking this,' carlos says in attempt to calm him down. 'you look fine, i promise i wouldn't have set you up on a double date if i weren't sure that she likes you back.'

just the thought that carlos might be right, that you actually might lando back is enough to perk him up. carlos is not that cruel to joke about stuff like this and lando is...well, hopeful. his hope rise further when rebecca softly says that you two would make a great couple. he honestly can't agree more; his imagination painted that picture too many times in his mind of you two being together. god, you'd be so good to each other, he knows. he knows all of this, so he has no idea why he starts acting like an idiot when you turn up.

'this looks suspiciously like a double date from the outside,' you murmur, sliding up to the booth next to him, watching as carlos and rebecca argue about the drinks.

you look beautiful. stunning, really. which is what he is supposed to say but instead what comes from his mouth is: 'it's not a double date, we're just third and fourth wheeling.'

lando is ready to hit his head on the table, but then you laugh and oh. he is okay with being an idiot if it makes you laugh like that. he likes your laugh, like your smile. lando likes so many things about you, it's getting ridicilous how he has such a hard time articulating all of it to you.

'you two look cute,' carlos comments offhandedly.

'oh, do we?' you ask, turning to lando, smiling. 'not as cute as you two though.'

'we are cuter than them.' lando argues, when food arrives. 'how can you lie to them?'

he likes making you laugh. lando is sure that he looks like a lovesick puppy, but my god, if making you laugh was a job, he'd apply for it and stay in this position for as long as you'll have him. your eyes shine bright when you turn to him, sitting as close as this little booth allows you to. 'that's very confident,' you comment, chuckling. 'but we gotta let them win this one, lan. they are together, afterall.'

lando blinks. he can be such an idiot, but he surely can't miss this chance, right? 'then we should get together too,' he says quietly even though both carlos and rebecca are busy slow dancing on the dance floor. 'so we can win this argument.'

there's a pause when you try to gauge his reaction, to understand whether he's being real or not. lando just stares at you with all of the emotions written clearly on his face for you to see. 'just for the sake of winning this argument?' you ask at last, more serious but still smiling.

'for winning this life.' lando lets out and cringes at the same second, making you howl with laughter.

'oh my god, that was horrible!' you squeak, leaning on him, laughing.

'i can't believe i said that as well,' lando mutters, shy, but happily wrapping one arm around your shoulders. 'cringed so hard.'

'okay, lando norris.' you lean back, still laughing. 'okay. am i correct in assumption that you imply us being together will mean that we're winning this life?' lando nods, biting his lower lip. you smile softly, taking his hand in yours. 'i agree, then.'

lando fears his heart stopped. 'yeah?'

you lean in, brushing his nose with his. 'yeah.'

nevermind, his heart is fine. it's beating again, stronger than ever.

a/n: request your own here! <3 - nini

#f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #lando norris #ln4 x reader #ln4 imagine #ln4 fic #lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine #lando norris x you #lando norris fanfic #lando norris x y/n #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 fic #f1 prompt #I LOVE WRITING FOR MY FAV BOY

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gguk-n · 2 months ago

Text

Chapter 4- Love Unveiled

Accelerating Emotions (Oscar Piastri x Reader)

Series Masterlist

Summary- Y/N decides to give Oscar a chance, to give them a chance and she does not regret that one bit, except for how they got caught or maybe everyone already knew.

Implied smut

Y/N couldn't sleep. She saw the sunrise but her mind was preoccupied with everything Oscar had said. The past few days, the time they had spent together, the way he made her laugh, how he was the only person ever to coerce her with his puppy eyes. But was it worth it? Was it worth ruining the family friendship and dynamic she had going with his family. They had practically raised her; they would take care of her like their own, it wasn't right to do something like this to them. And even if Oscar's feelings were real, even if she decided to be with him; what if things don't work out one day and they break up. What then? Who was she supposed to go to? She would lose a part of her, why would they take her side when Oscar was theirs? Would her brother take her side or would he get angry for ruining everything? In hind sight, Oscar's a catch; no doubt about that. But she wasn't about to ruin everything for some fleeting moments. That's what she thought and decided to catch Oscar before he left. She sprinted to the guest room to find the door ajar. Oscar had left, when, she didn't hear a thing? Was she so caught up in her thoughts? Maybe this was for the best, maybe not seeing Oscar anymore would fix this.

Y/N decided to avoid Oscar like the plague, she didn't go to his house at all. A part of her did want to but she could wait until he left. That's what those weird feeling were right? The tightness in her chest when she thought about Oscar or the feeling of his hands on her; she craved the familiarity. She didn't like Oscar, surely. Nicole had called her over for dinner a few days before school was supposed to start and since Oscar was around she lied and said that she wasn't feeling well. What she didn't expect was Oscar to show up with hot soup and food. She opened the door to find Oscar stood there with a worried look on his face. "Are you okay?" he asked, "Why are you here?" she asked. "mum said you were sick, so I brought food over" he said holding the packet in his hand. "I..." she was speechless. "You lied" that's when it dawned on Oscar that she had lied so that she wouldn't have to see Oscar. "Do you hate me that much?" his voice cracked as he asked. "No Oscar I don't hate you. I just....it would've been weird" she began but stopped when she saw tears falling from his eyes. Oscar never cried, not in the 18 years she had known him. Even when he fell or scraped himself, he would just dust himself off and get up. It broke her heart knowing she was the reason for his tears.

She raised her hands to wipe away his tears but Oscar flinched. It made her heart break. "Don't. You don't get to wipe my tears" is all he said before he dropped the packet on the floor and left. Even though Y/N called him out, he just left. She picked up the food and walked in. The night was another sleepless night on Y/N's end. Oscar cried a lot, he went to bed early and didn't get out the next morning. Y/N was starting to feel uneasy; maybe she had been too harsh on Oscar. She should've at least rejected him so that the both of them could move on. But a part of her couldn't; that's why she had been avoiding him.

The next day on call with Nicole; "Do you feel better now, darling?" she asked. "The soup was very good, I need the recipe" Y/N said avoiding the question. "I have no clue, Oscar made it for you" she replied. "What?" Y/N asked. "Poor boy was so worried that you were sick, he made the food and said he'd bring it over" Nicole said. There was a lump forming in her throat, she was a horrible person.

After much deliberation, Y/N ended up texting Oscar, "Can we meet at the park near your house? I would totally understand if you didn't come but I'll be waiting for you at around 4" and sent. Oscar saw the text and he wondered if he wanted to see her or not after the events of the night before. He laid in his childhood bed staring at the ceiling for a couple of hours before getting dressed around 4. Even if she hurt him, he still liked her; he couldn't stop suddenly.

He got there quarter past 4 and he saw Y/N playing with some of the kids present there. She must've noticed Oscar staring and turned to him and waved at him. The kid she was playing with moved back to the swings while Oscar walked over to her. "hey" Oscar waved awkwardly standing in front of her. "hi" she waved back, patting the place next to her. Oscar sat down, she was playing with her fingers and tapping her foot rapidly, a nervous habit she had developed as kids and has yet to get rid of. "I'm sorry about the other day" she said not looking at him. Oscar just shrugged when she looked up. "It was wrong of me to lie and worry everyone like that" she remarked. "You worried me the most" Oscar mentioned. "Sorry" she whispered with her head hanging. "Did you think about what I said?" Oscar asked. "Oscar, I don't hate you and what I did yesterday was stupid. You are important to me, not sure in what way. I've had you around for as long as I can remember so you're just you, I guess. I did think about us, you and" she gulped; "I never saw you as anyone but my brother's friend" she said. Oscar felt his heart shatter for god knows which time. It was like he was being tortured. "But" she began while finally looking back at him, noticing tears in his eyes; "I've know you for 18 years and I'd never seen you cry before until yesterday. The two times I see you cry and it's because of me. Makes me feel like shit, honestly. I never saw you as anyone but Oscar, Ansel's friend until the Australian GP. You looked taller, older and I'd be lying if I didn't have thought after some of the moments we shared. It felt like there was something between us." she said, her foot almost thumping the ground. "You'll break the cement" Oscar laughed looking at her foot. "No one makes me nervous like you do Oscar." she stated. "Y/N you make me nervous, for years now." Oscar interjected. "Would it be selfish of me for wanting to be with you?" Y/N asked. Oscar's lips were turning up into a smile, his cheeks were twitching, "No" Oscar breathed. "I would love it if you did" he said. "Obviously you would" she laughed; a noise Oscar could get used to. "What if things don't work out between us? I'll lose you and your family" she pointed out. "That won't happen, and by some shitty luck that does. You won't lose me or us. Ever" he confirmed. "Never?" she asked. "never" he confirmed. "Are you free tomorrow?" Y/N asked this time, more confidently. "Yes" Oscar almost screamed. "I'll pick you up at 8, let's give this a chance" she said.

Oscar wasn't normal about this, at all. He spent the whole day scouring his wardrobe, texting and calling Lando to ask his opinion on outfits. Lando was half asleep when Oscar called but was fully awake when Oscar said, "she asked me out on a date, granted I confessed to her first" Lando had a smile on his face; he helped Oscar pick out an outfit since Y/N asked him to dress fancy. Oscar picked a white shirt, blazer and black slacks. Oscar casually strolled down towards the main entrance, a skip in his step. "Where you going?" his youngest sister asked. "Just out" Oscar said trying to leave before his mum saw him. "Mum, Oscar's going on a date" his sister yelled. His mother appeared from the kitchen, "Sweetheart, Oscar's 22. It's about time he went on a date. Have fun. Don't come home too late and stay safe" his mum told him waving good bye. The last sentence made Oscar's skin crawl. He was greeted by Y/N in his drive-way and hopped right in.

"You look beautiful" Oscar said, staring at Y/N. If this was a cartoon his eyes would've turned into hearts. Y/N was wearing white dress with a blazer on top to fight the cold. The blazer matched Oscar's coincidentally who was also wearing a black blazer. "You don't look half bad" she glancing at him before starting the engine. "I wouldn't have minded picking you up" Oscar pointed out. "Well, the place we're going to is a new restaurant that opened up soon after I moved back and I'd always wanted to try it out with my boyfriend" she stated casually. Oscar's eyes were the size of saucers, "Boyfriend" he stammered. Y/N smiled, "We might get there, who knows." she said. She had always been bad in choosing the type of men she decided to date. Maybe, Oscar confessing to her is what she needed to maybe instead of pursuing some one, let the other person do the pursuing. She wasn't sure how anyone would react to her dating Oscar, but that's a hurdle she'll cross when need be.

When they reached the restaurant, Oscar got out and opened the door for her, held the door at the entrance and even pulled her chair. Y/N was being wooed by the simplest things; truly she'd been dating some shitty men. The food was pretty good and the two of them enjoyed their meal while Y/N did most of the talking. She was talkative person, a complaint she carried forward through out her life; a complaint most of her boyfriends had and a complaint that ended most at a single date. Oscar had known her long enough to know, she talked a lot to fill in the awkwardness she felt. Oscar intently listened to her, a luxury in his eyes since he would be gone most of the year.

After dinner they hit up their favourite ice cream parlour which was almost about to close. Being the last customers there, they quickly grabbed their ice creams and left. Y/N had a bit of a habit of stealing other people's ice creams, having stolen Oscar's quite a lot in their earlier years. She thought he was dumb enough to not notice her taking bites well into their teen years but Oscar knew. He always knew. He just loved it when they got to share an ice cream. She did the same this time, but got caught. "sorry" she apologised, slowly trying to place the ice cream back. "Have it" Oscar said. "What?" she asked. "You've been stealing my ice cream for years. What's stopping you now?" he asked. "You knew" she was shocked. "Kind of hard to miss when you're ice cream's disappearing faster then you're eating it" Oscar commented. "OH" was all she said, now quietly eating her ice cream. "You can have mine as much as you'd like" she said offering her ice cream. Oscar took a spoonful and put it in his mouth. "I could get used to these privileges" Oscar hummed. She just smiled as they walked around.

Y/N dropped Oscar off. "Can I get a kiss?" Oscar asked with a pout. "Piastri, you're pushing your luck, don't you think?" she asked. "Maybe, but I can't let the opportunity go" he chuckled. "take me out on another date and maybe I'll think about it" she said. "Done, when are you free?" he asked. "Aren't you a little too eager?" she laughed. "I'm a man of action" he stated. "I start school in 3 days" she said. "I'll see you the day after. Good night" he said getting out of the car. "Good night Oscar" she said. "Dream about me" he called back shooting flying kisses at her. Y/N had never seen Oscar like this and maybe she could get used to this.

He kept his world and took them to have pasta. The ride there was quite eventful since Oscar almost rammed his car on the side walk as soon as he saw Y/N. "Are you okay?" she asked while getting into the car. "Yeah I'm fine. Don't worry about it" Oscar said. "How can I not?" she questioned giving Oscar a quick once over. He bought her flowers; a combination of every flower at the florist since he couldn't decide. Y/N was wearing the necklace he got her which made him comment about it every chance he got. The dinner was memorable to say the least since Oscar thought the waiter was flirting with Y/N and kept calling her girlfriend whenever he got the chance. "I don't think he believes you" she laughed. "What why not?" Oscar asked. "No one calls their girlfriend, girlfriend" she mentioned. Oscar's lips formed an O and resorted to calling her darling for the whole night.

"Word of advice before you call someone your girlfriend, ask her once" she said. "Sorry." Oscar apologised. "Will you be my girlfriend?" he asked immediately. "yes" she smiled. "For the record I don't agree to being someone's girlfriend on our second date" she stated. "I'm an exception. We've known each other forever, in my defence" he mentioned. "Yup" she said popping the p. She stopped walked and turned to face him, latching her arms around his shoulder, "You made feel special for the 2 dates we went on. Some of my best dates honestly." She said. Oscar's arms cautiously hovered over her waist. "You can place them on my waist" she said looking at his hands; feeling the warmth as they rest on her waist. "Does your boyfriend get to kiss you?" he whispered inches away from her lips. "maybe" she breathed out. Oscar looked into her eyes for any sort of hesitation before attaching his lips onto hers. Everything fell into place for the both of them; all those shitty relationships that ended in heart break meant nothing to Y/N. And the wait for Oscar was over, the lips he fantasised about for years were on his and he couldn't be happier.

Oscar dropped her back home, "Maybe I should walk you back to the flat" Oscar sited. "Why?" she asked. "We could continue our date, maybe Netflix and chill" he mumbled. "Slow down there tiger" she laughed. "Good night, Osc" she whispered leaving a quick peck on his cheek and opened the door. "My lips are here" he shouted out, making her giggle. She could get used to this, she thought.

The first day back to school was always hectic, Oscar offered to drive her there much to her resistance and even got her snacks for the day; she felt like she was going back as a student and not a teacher. He was back at the end of the day to pick her up. They drove back while Y/N told Oscar all about her day. It had been a while since she had someone to unload from the day's events. Oscar loved hearing her talk and he loved being called Osc occasionally. "I'm leaving the day after" Oscar said in the moment of silence when Y/N was done talking. "You are?" she said, there was a hint of disappointment. But she had known, Oscar wasn't here for long and he wouldn't be here for long ever. "Well, I hope you do well in the rest of the races" she mustered her most cheerful voice. "I don't think I'll be able to see you off" she lamented. "It's okay, you can come to some of the races when you're free" he reasoned. "Yeah, let's see about that" she thought aloud.

Y/N didn't think this would go any further. She expected Oscar to forget about her and then they'd eventually drift apart. Maybe one of the reasons she agreed to give it a try, to see where it went. But she caught herself catching feeling and wanting to talk to Oscar. She did not expect him to call her everyday, that was not very Oscar like. But he did, he would call her at very reasonable times except it would be super late where ever he was. He would ask about her day and then would fall asleep on call. Y/N found herself staring at Oscar as he slept. She would whisper a quick good night and sweet dreams before ending the call.

Everyone as in all of Oscar's family was going to the Singapore GP, Oscar had told her and also asked her to come along since he missed her. She missed him too. So, she was set to fly with the Piastri's to Singapore. Oscar was ecstatic when he saw Y/N but he couldn't jump on her when his family was around. But at the end of the day, he slipped into her room, wrapping his arms around her as he closed the door behind him. "I missed you" he whispered while hugging her tightly. "Babe, I can't breath" she whispered. "Then don't. I'm not letting go" he stated. She rubbed his back for a few seconds before Oscar loosed his grip and Y/N rested her chin on his chest while looking at him. "Didn't know I could miss someone so much" she commented. "Me neither. Lando hates me, though" he said. "What? Why? It didn't look like it" she asked worried. "No I mean, since I miss you so much, he knows about how much I miss you" Oscar clarified. "Lando knows about us?" she asked. "he's the only one" he said. "Oh, okay" she sighed. "Don't you want the others to know?" Oscar asked. "In due time, I just want to enjoy my time with you, for now" Y/N said. Which was true, she didn't want to involve their families just yet, she never told her parents about her past relationships until she felt the guy was worth it, she might've been wrong but it is what it is. The entire weekend, the pair would sneak glances at each other. Lando was having a lot of fun teasing Oscar and now Y/N.

After the race, when everyone suggested going out for dinner, Oscar said, "I'm tired. I'll probably get some sleep" and Y/N also said, "I just don't feel so good" They wished them well and left for the night. The two of them spent time together, for the first time in a while. Oscar ordered room service, they watched some rom-com, they don't remember since Oscar kept stealing kisses from her. Soon enough, those kisses turned into full blown make-out session which ended with the both of them forgetting the movie playing and Oscar on top of Y/N. Their fingers intertwined, Oscar's head was buried in Y/N's neck as they chases their high. After some time, they laid in each others embrace, while Y/N felt Oscar kiss her forehead, "I love you" he said. This was the first time they had said it. When she had asked him out, she had wanted to see where those weird feelings took her. She was very happy that this is where they got her, she was happy for the first time in a really long time. She felt loved and maybe dating your brother's best friend wasn't such a bad idea after all, she thought while saying, "I love you too"

The next morning, they were almost caught when Oscar's sister knocked on Oscar's door to join them for breakfast. Some how Oscar was able to ward her off and the two quickly got dressed and left their rooms. The breakfast was uneventful except Oscar being a lot more touchy feely, Y/N wasn't complaining it's just that it made focusing on what Chris or Nicole had to say extremely difficult.

Y/N had a Japan trip planned, or so she said and it fell exactly during the GP weekend. That's how Y/N and Oscar ended up exploring Japan a few days before the race and just enjoying the beautiful scenery and absorbing the culture after the race. They tried all those couple costumes and even went to amusement parks. The more time they spent together, the more they got greedy to have each other around. Y/N almost cried when she had to fly back. Oscar promised to be back as soon as the season was over.

And he did come back as soon as the last race was over and everyone was able to head home to rest and recuperate. Oscar reached home; he did not expect to find Y/N at his place, so without a second thought he dropped his bag and ran to her. He kissed her with so much need, his hands roamed her body and were under shirt while Y/N did try to get his attention but she lost her train of thought after she felt his body pressed against hers. "Please do not undress the poor girl in my living room" Nicole called out. Oscar almost jumped away from her. "I know you probably miss each other but keep it to the bedroom. I do not want to see what you two get up to" Nicole stated walking in followed by his whole family and Y/N's family. "That's what I was trying to tell you, that everyone's on their way home" Y/N whispered. Oscar took her hand in his, "I'm dating Y/N" he stated confidently. "We know" they called back. "Did you tell them?" Oscar asked, looking at her. Y/N shook her head confused.

Ansel told Oscar after dinner, "You know your parents lost 100$ because of you" Oscar was even more confused then before. "They had a bet going, my parents said that you two would end up dating, your parents said that you would pine your whole life away" Ansel elaborated. "My own parents have no trust in me" he lamented. "In their defence, you've had the biggest crush on her since like when we were in 5th or 6th grade" Ansel said. "You knew" Oscar asked. "I know you too well. It was getting painful watching you" Ansel laughed. "My parents couldn't be happier at the thought of having you as their son-in-law" Ansel said. "They think we'll get married." Oscar asked shocked. "At this point, they'll get you both married. Mum says she hasn't seen Y/N this happy in any relationship" Ansel explained. "Also the two of you are not stealthy at all. Nicole saw you leave with my sister multiple time, same goes for my mum. Also your sister caught you too getting too comfortable under the table in Singapore too, the poor girl. I almost puked when I heard that" Ansel gagged.

Oscar walked into the kitchen to find Y/N alone. "They knew, from the start" he said. "It seems" she smiled at him. "We're bad actors" she laughed. "Now I can touch you whenever I want" Oscar stated. "Please do not try to get me naked any where but our rooms, I don't think I can take the are we gonna be grandmas soon questions anymore" she said shaking her head. She pecked his lips, "I love you" she said. "I love you more" Oscar declared. "Honestly, didn't know I could love someone like I love you" she commented, pressing a kiss on his neck, "I might be staying over" she said in a sing songy tone walking away. "Really?" he asked. She nodded linking her hands with his.

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nariism · 11 months ago

Text

*ੈ✩ LAST WORDS OF A SHOOTING STAR

pair. itadori yuji x reader

synopsis. in the 3 days following the shibuya incident, itadori yuji emerges as a husk of his former self. with his immediate execution resumed, you both grapple with the feelings you have for each other and come to terms with his impending death.

content. hurt/comfort (lots of comfort, thank art because i was gonna be mean about this and they convinced me not to), slightly canon divergent (taking place between shibuya and the culling games), fluff and minor angst, yuta is the best wingman

wc. ~4.4k

NOVEMBER 1 2018

You imagine that your face was rather ghastly when you received the news.

"Execution?" You repeated, the word tasting bitter on your tongue. No, that was the wrong description. It tasted of death—like iron and the depths of Hell filling your mouth until you were gurgling on it.

Unlike the rest of the Jujutsu Sorcerers from Tokyo, you had been ordered to stay back with Shoko in case of an emergency. You remember your exile from battle had left a similar rotten flavour in your mouth.

You vanished off the face of the earth after the incident was over. Most probably presumed you died in the aftermath. Devoured by a curse, they would say and shake their heads. You were always troublesome. And then they would move on with the rest of the world, all the same.

Lives were only temporary in the world of curses. Focus on who you can save, not who is already gone. They'll only end up a curse in your sleep. What a horrible notion to have.

The truth is that you'd been whisked away with Yuta, who seemed to be scheming a plan of his own. Perhaps as a middle finger to the higher ups he hated so much, or perhaps just for his own selfish reasons. You wouldn't know until he was finished carrying it through—he's too good at keeping secrets.

He wanted your reverse cursed technique, you knew that much for sure, even though he could do it himself. You were useful by his side, fitting into his plot in a way you could not in Shibuya. Feeling some sort of obligation and satisfaction, you followed him like a lost puppy.

And now here you are, seated by a dimming fire in the abandoned part of the city. Yuta was too clever for his own good. You suppose Gojo taught him some things well. This was their plan after all.

Yuji was safe, if only for this moment in time.

"Now with Gojo gone, it would have been easy for the higher ups to send assassins your way."

Ruthless and truthful, you flinch, but Yuji does not. He remains perfectly still in your hold, with your hands rotating his face around to get a better look at his wounds. You pour your cursed energy into him, hoping to breathe life back into his eyes, but they stay dull and empty.

"We'll find a way to stop this," you assure, reaching over to take a sanitizing wipe to clean an open cut. Yuta was too rough on him, but it was at least believable that Yuji was dead. He doesn't even recoil from the alcohol stinging his flesh, too engrossed in his own thoughts.

"Why?" He asks weakly. You gawk at him, but then it melts away into a softness that finally makes him blink up at you. "I'm evil."

"You're not evil, Yuji."

"I am. I killed those people. I did." His voice comes flat and defeated, nothing like the one you used to listen to over dinner while he reenacted shitty western films.

You never realize what you'll miss until it's gone. It's hollow, the ache in your heart.

"You don't understand. How could you? All this blood on my hands—"

"It was Sukuna," you quickly refute.

"And Sukuna only lives because I do!"

His voice raises at you, causing the flames behind you to flicker and crack. It's enough for Yuta to step in, acting as a barrier between your tense bodies. Yuji seems to shrink at this, realizing his emotions have run amok and that he has yelled at you.

You only stare back at him in bewilderment, like a frightened animal. Your upperclassman shakes his head.

"Enough of this. We need to start making plans."

You lay awake that night, alone and anxious. Yuta has taken the first shift of watching and patrolling while the two of you rest, though hesitant to leave you alone. He told you it’s another reason he dragged you along: having three people to rotate shifts instead of just two would be easier on your bodies and minds. The city is not what it used to be, now overrun with curses of all grades.

You reassured him it would be fine, that you would fall asleep quickly and so would Yuji—his body has to run out of steam eventually, right? Oh, what a fool you were.

The tension is so heavy that it's awkward, even though you're sleeping on opposite ends of the tunnel.

"Sleep," you demand as if you were Inumaki, like you have the power to curse him.

His eyes flutter open. Even in the firelight, you don't see any shine in them, seeming as if they had been extinguished of life. "Why don't you?"

"I can't until you do."

"That's stupid," he tells you.

It's not the first time you've argued like this. Back when the world felt right, you would sneak in through his dorm window well into the hours of the night. Platonic, you had convinced yourself. You snuck into his bed seeking companionship as a friend. That's the lie you gorged on.

A piece of you knew, and you're sure he did too, that the way your hands explored his arms was unnatural for two friends, and that friends wouldn't sneak into each other's rooms like this with such severe punishment on the line.

It was safe in his arms, with the dull hum of his television running an old horror film in the background. You didn't have to think about much other than his warmth when you sat between his legs with your back to his chest. Or when his arm was draped over your shoulder and you were pressed into his side—actually, you think you preferred this one though you felt sorry for his sore arm.

You would bicker about dumb, pointless things. Which movie is better, or which character deserved to be mutilated more. It would go on for so long that Megumi would bang his fist on their shared wall to get the two of you to shut up.

There was no curse strong enough to change time itself, so you keep your thoughts and memories to yourself when you respond.

"You'll be too tired to function on your shift," you reason.

"You both will be fine without me." Better off without me, you know he means. You've gotten good at reading between his lines.

You slowly sit up in your sleeping bag, eyes never leaving Yuji. He seems so frail right now, even though he looks more adult than he ever has before.

"Human Earthworm 4 was better than 2," you suddenly say. His eyes peer open again in confusion.

"Huh? 2 was way better."

"I liked the love story in 4," you argue, slowly getting out of your bag to shuffle to his side of the concrete tunnel. He looks at you as if you've said something outlandish, too preoccupied with his thoughts to wonder why you've come so close.

"2 had the best special effects though."

Your body shifts under his blanket.

"But 4 had a happier ending." (As far as 'happy' goes in the Human Earthworm series, at least.)

His arm falls around your waist as it has a hundred times, pulling you into his chest.

"Whatever," he huffs. The next topic comes fast and you're thrown into a full blown conversation with him. If you concentrate enough, you can imagine your bodies being tangled together in his bed, safe and sound.

Concrete and fire and the stench of curses melt away until he's all you can focus on.

"You have weird taste in movies," he concludes with his eyes drifting shut.

NOVEMBER 2 2018

You think you know how to fix broken people until you find that they are more than skin and bones.

You learn one thing after the Shibuya Incident: there are wounds residing within Yuji just as much as there are marking his flesh.

Yuta, you realize, had left the two of you alone to sleep and has protected you all night. You'll make it up to him, you reason. Yuji deserved to sleep.

When you wake up to his sleeping face, you think his cuts are healing nicely. But then his expression twists up in terror—a nightmare, if he even had enough energy left in him to conjure up dreams. He murmurs in his sleep, shakes his head a few times and thrashes around so much you're surprised you slept through the night by his side.

"Sukuna," he's whispering. Sukuna, Sukuna, Sukuna. King of Curses. The second voice tormenting him that lives in his own brain like a parasite. You bury yourself into his chest and hold him as tight as you can. He relaxes, body releasing its rigid form, but the murmurs continue.

He is shattered beyond repair. No amount of cursed energy could fix that, even if you tried.

You had once watched Yuji electrocute himself trying to set up the janky old television in his dorm room.

He fell back onto the floor with a loud crash, head hitting the wood so hard you thought he might have a concussion. It caused such a racket that Megumi came running into the room asking what happened, demon dog ready behind him in case of an ambush.

You rushed to the floor, discarding all the food you had settled in your lap and crumbled beside him to scoop him into your arms.

"Yuji!" You called him. People rarely used his first name. You felt special, like you knew him better than others did and for some reason that was a privilege. "Are you okay?"

He laughed in your arms, seeming unfazed by the fact that electricity had run through every vein in his body. "I'm fine, see? My finger just slipped."

You and Megumi both sighed in relief, though you always thought it was strange when you reflected on it. Yuji was a funny guy, yes. He was equal parts humour and destruction but not a klutz. Mistakes happen, so you let it slide until now, but some part of you was nagging to ask.

"That day," you start while rolling up your sleeping bag. "You electrocuted yourself. Remember?"

He looks at you funny over his shoulder. Yuta has already started cracking open cans of food for breakfast, embers of your dead fire cracking.

"Hmm, yeah. I remember. Why?"

"I just thought..." you trail off. "Well, Sukuna makes you tough to a lot of things. I'm surprised small electric shocks aren't one of them."

Sukuna. A name you'd been avoiding since this morning. Sickening silence settles between you. It's so heavy that you pause in your cleaning to look at him, brow raised.

"Yeah," he coughs. "Well, maybe I exaggerated."

"Huh?" You sound annoyed now. "You scared us half to death!"

Yuji only falters in his own chores. When he looks at you again, there's a longing in his gaze that you don't know how you could have missed. Or perhaps it was never there until now.

"It was nice to have you fawning over me," he admits.

The day goes on and all you feel is a terrible grief.

You become painfully aware of each millimeter the sun glides across the sky, from one horizon to the other. Time slips through your fingers fast as sand.

Horrifically, you can't find anything to talk about to fill the emptiness—Nobara and Megumi feel off the table considering the extent of their injuries. You don't even dare to breathe Gojo's name, let alone speak of him so boldly as Yuta is.

You're afraid that Yuji will spiral again, confused and unwilling to cooperate with his judgement clouded by loss. It's not your fault, you would say. It is, he would argue. It would do neither of you good, so you idle around while he and Yuta devise plans to tiptoe around the higher ups.

A part of you knows that if either of you told him to submit and die, he would. He's already teetering on the edge of self-destruction.

On the outside, he seems perfectly indifferent. Gaze steady, face stone and unchanging as he speaks. He's doomed, ill-fated, someone full of misfortune. He looks so lonely that the air itself parts for him where he stands.

To shoulder so much responsibility, so much death, maybe he truly is alone. Some fraction of him, at least—a piece of himself only he would ever understand.

Your hand snakes into his without a second thought. You don't know why you did it, nor do you have any reasoning that he doesn't yank away from you. His hand trembles, and it's then that you realize his whole body is wracked with tremors that don't match his distant disposition.

The second thing you learn is this: when Yuji self-destructs, he does it from the inside-out.

Itadori Yuji loves chocolate cake.

He loves all food, really, acting like your friend group's personal food dumpster whenever any of you were full. But chocolate cake you knew he had a sweet tooth for.

You used to bring it with you to his dorm, stopping by the convenience stores on the way home to grab a pre-packaged slice from the fridge for him to eat.

"You're making a mess," you would tell him with a frown, using your thumb to wipe up frosting from the corner of his mouth. You would lick the pad of your finger clean after that, and he would watch almost in a trance.

It's the reason why you stop on one of your patrols, poking through the fridge section of a convenience store. The power has been out for a long time in this part of the city, all the food is already room temperature, but you figure this is fine as long as it smells okay.

The way Yuji's face lights up when he sees you is all it takes for the worry to go away.

It briefly feels as though nothing has ever gone wrong—that after this slice of cake the two of you will tumble back onto his mattress and turn on another showing of Titanic. (He groaned about it once, saying he got KO'd too many times during this film. You only laughed in confusion.)

At the end of the day, you know those days will never come back to you, lost forever in the wind.

Fire dances before you and you watch, enchanted by the flames. You remember last night, how not even the firelight could make Yuji look the same as he did before. You turn your head to look at him, to see if it's any different tonight, just for your cheek to be caught in his palm.

His thumb traces your lip, the way you used to do to him. You recognize the pull of his finger against your flesh, the swipe of it to get frosting off, but he still seems dissatisfied.

"What?" You ask.

"It didn't come off," he mutters, leaning in dangerously close to observe. Heat rises all the way to your cheeks and makes your hairs stand on end. His touch is like molten lava. You wonder if it has something to do with the monster living inside of him.

"I can't see it," you whine without a mirror.

He draws a little closer, until he's inches from your face. "Let me..."

You've suddenly been dropped into cold, unknown waters. This is all unfamiliar. He's rushing this, as if making up for all the time the two of you lost pretending you were only friends. As if he can cram all the things he's wanted to tell you into one night.

Recoiling away, you find yourself hesitating. If he kisses you, this all becomes too real. It's an acknowledgment of his impending death. That the thread of his life is finer and further stretched than yours is.

An unpleasant thought rings through your mind. What if I become a curse on him?

"This only ends badly for us," you whisper, but the conviction is missing from your voice.

He doesn't care. At least, it doesn't look like he does. Who knows what he's thinking right now?

"Who cares?" He says. "We're Jujutsu Sorcerers. Everything bad happens to us no matter what."

You don't have any rebuttal to that, no argument that forms in your mind that could challenge his words. He was right. Only disaster befalls Sorcerers. Disaster and grief.

For a while you had forgotten, living these idyllic months watching the days pass by. You feel like you wasted that precious time worrying about stupid things, like what to have for breakfast or what kind of snacks you should pick up for movie night.

(It ended up being popcorn every time. He liked to piss off Sukuna with it, saying the King of Curses would never get to experience the pleasure of picking out kernels from his teeth. You scoffed but bought it anyway.)

Another thought crosses your mind: Yuji is more fit to be in a rom-com, or a television series where the good guys always win. Not this tragedy. Not this massacre.

You wonder if he's ever felt the same way. If he ever wished he could reach into the sky and turn the sun back to a time before he even knew what a curse was.

If you’d met each other under different circumstances, would this have been a different story? The thought makes your heart ache, a part of you so deep that even if you reached into your chest and plucked it, you'd still wail.

"Can I?" He asks you, eager but quiet. Had this been a few months ago, you imagine that he would have had this spark in his eye. That his lips would be crashing into yours with no inhibition.

But Yuji has always been selfless, you think he always will be. He doesn't want to drag you down if you don't want to—an out, they call it. An escape route just before he careens into a ditch.

Hope has drained from every inch of his expression. This is his loneliness talking.

Despite the dread that licks up your spine, you cup his face. You swear he jolts slightly beneath your touch, as if you've reached out to strike him down. A retribution he believes he deserves.

He kisses you like it's his last day on earth.

You learn one last thing: Itadori Yuji tastes familiarly of death.

Yuta decides to leave you alone for a second night in a row. His presence is so crushing that you know he's alive, but he stalks off somewhere else, leaving just you and Yuji huddled by the pitiful fire you've built.

He once claimed himself jokingly to be a love expert, and then ran off to Kenya for so long that you lost track of how much time passed. You wish you'd asked him before he left what he meant, but at the time it seemed irrelevant. Insignificant. The name Itadori Yuji had not yet been impressed into your heart like a seal.

You're busy setting up the sleeping bags, this time pushing them flush together. They're so close you can barely see the seam between them. Yuji stands on the other side of the fire, watching.

It reminds him of all the times you'd ever scolded him for not making his bed in the morning. I'm gonna crawl back in tonight anyway, he said. Who cares if it's messy?

Idiot, you would call him. But there was no malice behind it. He treated it like a pet name, a badge of honour to be your idiot.

Life felt so simple back then. He was full of determination and life and stuck to his morals as best he could. When he wavered he would text you to come over so you could fall asleep on his chest and suffocate any other thoughts out of his head.

"I've never felt so powerful before," he admits quietly. You turn to look at him, curious. "Like I could do anything in the world."

There's a negative connotation to that, you know. He could do anything. The world would crumble at his feet and there he would stand, laughing at it all. It isn't his will, not even slightly, but the demon taking refuge in his body would love to see the blood pool.

"Like I could just... reach out and—"

"Yuji!" You hiss, lurching forward to take his hand into yours and retreat from the flame. The skin is already pink and blistering, scorched by the embers. You twist his wrist around, observing where the fire licked the deepest, and pour your energy into him.

When you look up to see if he's crying, or at least grimacing in pain, you find only his smiling face—warm and adoring. For a second it feels like the world isn't burning around you.

It was nice to have you fawning over me.

You wipe that stupid smirk off his face, leaning in to smear a kiss along the scar on his lip.

"Idiot," you say, and he laughs for the first time in so long that it sounds foreign in your ears.

(He doesn't fall asleep that night. He would rather savour the sound of your soft snores, memorize the form of your body in his hold, and try his hardest to burn this into his brain.

So be it if you come to curse him one day. He would welcome you with open arms.)

NOVEMBER 3 2018

The day comes when Megumi sneaks into your hideout, asking for help.

His sister, he explains. He needs help saving Tsumiki. For some reason, resentment boils in your stomach, but then it's snuffed just as fast.

Two days and two nights you've spent pretending Japan isn't collapsing, content with sitting idly by as curses overran Tokyo. You're sure Megumi thought you to be cowards, that you were all hiding under this bridge to wait out the hellstorm that was raining down on your homes.

It was true to some extent. Once Yuji stepped out into battle again, that was that. You're not sure things would ever be the same again, though you suppose you lost the privilege of routine days ago.

"Let me come too," you urge. Three pairs of eyes land on you.

"No," Yuji pushes. "It's dangerous."

"I can fight!"

"You can't," he pauses, then corrects himself, "You won't."

Awkward silence settles over your encampment. Yuta stirs, standing to hold you steady by the shoulders.

"If we need help... if one of us is hurt, we'll need you unharmed. Do you understand?"

Ah, ever so wise, your upperclassman. So easy to persuade you. There's a reason why he's the chosen one only second to Gojo.

You swallow the bile that fights up your throat. "What if you don't come back?"

Yuji steps in this time, knocking away Yuta to hold you by the face. Get a grip, this means. Pull yourself together, don't you dare fall apart in front of me.

"We will."

You once considered telling him how you felt, letting it eat away at you until Nobara groaned in disgust.

“If Itadori starts dating before I do, I’ll puke.”

You remember that you laughed, thinking she was so dramatic. You loved that about her. “I think you would do worse.”

She glared at you, foot lightly kicking at your shin under the table. Still, she made sure to push equal amounts of rice to your side of the plate. “I might burn a village down,” she huffed, placing her chin on her palm.

“You’re fine. Even if I told him how I feel, I don’t think he’d accept.”

“Huh?” Nobara sounded genuinely confused, raising a brow at you. “What makes you think that?”

You didn't know how to answer that. Maybe you were just afraid that you had misinterpreted everything, that the way he held you was protective in a familial manner and that he would slam his door in your face when you tried.

Looking back on it, you can imagine him in the next room ranting about the same things to Megumi.

“He still has posters of Jennifer Lawrence on his wall,” you argued weakly while shoveling rice into your spoon. She watched you take your bite with her lips parted in disbelief.

You wish you had told him, then. Not that it would have changed where you both ended up.

You watch as they pack up their things.

Megumi's demon dog keeps you quiet company, tail thrashing against the ground as you slick back its fur. They talk around the dying flames, devising plan after plan. None seem safe. None would be.

Yuta and Megumi leave first, taking the lead in front of the pack. His dog melts into the shadows and disappears, leaving you sitting alone.

"I want to take you back, but..." Yuji glances over his shoulder toward his death sentence. "Will you make it okay on your own?"

You get up slowly, as if to draw out the time he stands before you. A thousand questions run through your head: what if you never see him again? What if this kills him, not by body, but by his already damaged soul?

He must sense the racing of your mind, so he leans in to engulf you in his arms. In an instant, memories of those days spent lounging in his bed, shoveling your food onto his plate, and purposefully talking louder to tease Megumi come flooding.

A year you would never forget. You're sure it'll become a curse if you dwell, so you tell him: "I'll make it. You go on, they need you."

I need you, too. Stay. If only it were so simple.

He smiles at you, warm like the sun that's hidden behind the barrier. Itadori Yuji looks like a ghost of his former self, battle-worn and covered in scars where his skin used to be smooth. He kisses you again for good measure, making sure he remembers the way you sigh into his mouth.

When he pulls away, there's life gleaming in his eyes.

"Let's watch Human Earthworm 5 when I come back."

Your thumb brushes the corner of his lip. You open your mouth to speak, to finally tell him the truth after all this time. You'd rather not die regretting you never said it, after all.

But you stop.

"I prefer Titanic," you confess. He shakes his head and kisses your forehead. Then he’s gone, taking all the warmth with him.

You'll make up for lost time one day. It won’t be today. You can tell him all about your feelings when he comes back to you.

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