#it's also like 2am so that's part of it but also just damn

[leejeann]

HOW DARE IT END LIKE THAT BUT ALSO AWWWW

Okay but for real that least scene in Nick's bedroom finally got me, I finally cried lol

What a good season omg

[kingkatsuki]

Specifically thinking about long distance relationships today.

So tell me how you and your f/o would first meet online?

[soni-dragon]

Never ever EVER buy household appliances with ai in them. Most ridiculous things I’ve ever encountered

[rxzennia]

a promise of forever

– tales of the voracity pathstrider

✎𓂃 falling in love; promising an eternity in return. aventurine's real name, ~3k word vomit

aventurine has realized by now that he might just be in love with you.

okay, love is a strong word, let’s take a few steps back. 

he isn’t too sure if he’s ready to make that commitment yet, so… at least, he wants you to always be with him. to stay by his side.

he has to make the first move because you would never

he’s terrified!! he doesn’t want to be the first one to offer his heart!!

but if he doesn’t you’d be perfectly content maintaining whatever you have right now

like… boss and assistant? friends? best friends? roommates? lovers? not yet?

aeons he hated how passive you are

it’s so damn obvious that you liked him back to a certain degree

but why aren’t you trying to hold onto him? why aren’t you trying to take up more of his life like he’s doing with you? 

he wants your smiles all to himself; wants your hidden softness to only be directed at him; wants your affection for himself, all of you, including your leviathans

he loves, loves how you’ve opened up to him over time

you’ve gone from a ice cold slab of stone to a wall he trusts enough to rant at, then the highlight of his life that he doesn’t want to let go of

the way you would get upset whenever he tries to do something dangerous, even if you and he both know he’d come out fine

the way you would pick up the phone regardless of when or why he’s calling, even if you’re off duty and annoyed at him ringing you at 2am

the way you would, without considering his feelings, cringe and back away when he accidentally brings you food you hate, but ultimately feed it to your scarf because you don’t want to waste it

he loves them all. your reactions, your expressions, everything

especially when he’s probably the only one to see so much of you all the time

he wants to keep hearing you talk about yourself, keep learning more about you, even the parts of you that no one’s ever known before

he didn’t want to tell you all of that, yet he wants you to know

except you’ve made it very clear with your personality that if he doesn’t tell you, you won’t pry

and, like, you can’t read minds. neither can he.

so you’ve essentially forced him into confessing :(

if he wants your friendship (and more), he has to be the one who asks

aventurine remembers how cold you were at the beginning, so much so that he briefly wondered if working under him was amount to torture for you as it was for a few of his previous secretaries.

you never talked more than absolutely necessary, you've always had that terrifying glare, and couple these things with the fact that he rarely saw your face? yeah, you didn’t look like you wanted to be there.

he tried to transfer you elsewhere. under topaz, maybe, or even jade, or even some other department but you've never replied.

but you've replied to his texts before and after that?

you've just flat out ignored the transfer offer?

does this mean you don't want to be transferred?

that's probably when his fascination with you started

you, who's so detached and seems to dislike him, wanting to stay as his secretary?

he tried to ask you about it once, but all he got was “there's still a year before my contract expires”

which, well, yes, fair enough

but you should also know that if he's the one bringing it up, you won’t be getting into trouble for breaking the contract

he drops it, though, because he knows that there might be certain things you don't want to tell him

or perhaps you don't understand

he feels like you're very bad with emotions and expressing your thoughts

you are, honestly

it’s a different story with the permanent offer he made you a while ago, though

“are you sure?” you asked, with rare anticipation in your eyes

he chuckles, “absolutely.”

you try to hide your joy, but the speed at which you signed the paper is telltale enough

he’s also promoted you from secretary to assistant

even though you’re pretty much his assistant already

you don’t really know how to feel about that part

does this mean you’ll get even busier? not really? will you still be staring at contracts at 3am?

then comes aventurine’s offer for you to move in with him.

you’ve managed to finally notice that the dynamic between you and your boss resembles that of typical lovers in the media, but what do you know? one, aventurine is probably unused to someone else’s company so he’s compensating for it, and two, it’s not like you’re versed enough in mortal sentiments to make an accurate judgement.

he cuddles up to you in his sleep

he’ll smack your face accidentally when he wakes up and stretches

“this is the twenty-third time you’ve done this.” your scarf morphs into half a faceless snake and push his hand back down

why the hell have you been keeping count

you’ve mostly lined your morning routine up with his

efficiency, you tell yourself, it’ll be easier to keep yourselves on schedule

which means you find yourself with him at the breakfast table more often than not

he’s eating normally, while you… 

you have a leviathan chewing on the entire plate, and yes that includes the ceramic

what about you? you’re preparing presentations and drafting contracts, of course!

or sometimes fighting for your life in corporate emails :/

is starting the day together really still simply “efficiency” at this point?

you’re starting to think you’re lying to yourself as the days go by

maybe you’ve been living amongst mortals for too long

because you find him so precious that you want to hold him dearly and give him everything

he’s so scared of being vulnerable, but he’s willing to lower his guard around you

what is this foreign feeling? what’s with this odd desire to protect? to hoard?

like how dragons hoard treasure, or how crows hoard shiny things

has anyone told you you’re terrible at emotions?

you’re terrible at emotions

you’ve memorized every little thing he likes and every little habit he has

and he noticed! of course he noticed!

are you absolutely sure you don’t like him even a little bit?

are you absolutely sure you have nothing to say to him?

must he make the first move when you’re so blatantly obvious?

he really, really, hates you (lovingly) for this

aventurine eventually comes to terms with it. if he wants you, officially, he’ll have to bare his innermost thoughts first.

there’s a period of distancing, and a period of overwhelming anxiety and overthinking all on his own. but even then you didn’t pull away from him, no; you were patient. you’ve asked, then left him alone when he turned his head away, then you’ve kept it professional. you didn’t question him again after, either.

it stung a little when you acted all formal with him, but it’s your little actions in-between that convinced him to finally come out and say it. getting him coffee the way he likes it, letting him find comfort in your presence at night even if he’s suddenly closed himself off, ordering his favorite takeout when it’s a slow day, covering his openings when you find yourselves locked in combat… you’ve always been looking after him, haven’t you?

finally, finally, aventurine decides to confess.

considering how little he knows about you, he (surprisingly) isn’t too worried about giving you his heart

well, of course there is the tiniest amount of doubt and fear

but mostly he thinks you wouldn’t betray his trust. mostly.

you’re a walking green flag, after all

maybe with the exception of when you’re left alone with monsters

but the way you treat him? green flag. massive green flag.

even after he’s told you a little bit about his past, you haven’t looked down on him at all

he doesn’t think you’ve ever looked down on him

though, he thought you thought him despicable when you first met because of the way you looked at him

not unreasonable with the stereotypes against his people and all

but you’ve proven his assumption wrong on your first day

you were totally cooperative and really… well, not nice, but not hard to work with, either

despite your unresponsiveness, you’ve kept everything he said in mind

that’s not how one behaves around someone they find distasteful

and after spending so much time with you, he realized that’s just how your stare is

you sort of… look down on everyone without meaning to 

you have no idea how relieved he was when he could finally be certain that you’ve never disliked him

also! he can discern between your stares now

your resting neutral stare, your happy stare, your disgusted stare, they’d look the same to the average person, but not to him anymore

(he was super happy when he realized he’s got it all down)

he’s learned to read you because you’re so reserved and detached all the time

oh how he wished you’d tell him more about yourself

before anyone asks, he did try to dig up your past

imagine his surprise when he found nothing, like, literally nothing

the one time he watched you eat a monster whole was the first time he learned something deeper about you

he then realized that it wasn’t a coincidence that he couldn’t find anything about you

anyways, back to the confession

he’s come up with an entire plan in his head, but he really has no idea how to execute it

he wants to make it as memorable as possible for you! 

except… would you even like a grand confession (of companionship)?

in the end, he took you out to a fancy dinner under the guise of “just another dinner date with your boss”

he’ll tell you his feelings at home

he has an inkling that you’d prefer it that way. intimate and private.

“hey…” aventurine starts, sitting down next to you on the bed after his shower, “i’ve been thinking…”

you naturally pull the towel off his shoulders and stand up to dry his hair for him. “you think?”

“stop, i’m serious,” he complains, punching your stomach playfully before burying his face in your shirt. “hear me out, you oversized snake.”

that’s the first time you’ve heard that nickname. “what?” you can’t help but be amused at the creative insults, then you let out a soft sigh and shut your mouth.

“you know how you’re now my permanent assistant?” aventurine slowly says, wrapping his arms around your waist as you work on his head, “can i… can we keep having this arrangement?”

you reply with a hum, but your tone slides up towards the end, like you’re asking a question. he chuckles, of course you’re confused, you’re so dense sometimes.

aventurine shifts around until he’s looking up at you. “this. you and i, living together, taking care of each other,” he elaborates, his eyes half-closed from how tired he is, “can you… stay?” then, with a quieter voice, he adds, “with me?”

you take some time to think about it as you toss the towel aside and bring out the hair dryer

from what you know about him, this is a very, very big request for him

he’s essentially asking if he can rely on you 

even though he’s probably relied on himself most of his life

he wants to put his faith in you? you’re flattered, really

it seems like he’s also checking off a lot boxes for what people call “love”

according the the movies and books you’ve watched and read, anyway

but he’s not calling it “love”? is this something else, then?

you start blow drying his hair, carding through his blond locks with your free hand

he relaxes into your touch

“well? your answer?” aventurine asks, a slight shake in his voice as he peeks at you nervously.

“you sound like the protagonist of a romance movie,” you remark, leaning down to give him a quick peck on his head, “is this what it is?” 

suddenly, it dawns on you why exactly were there flowers at dinner

roses, no less

but jeez, you did not need to call him out like that

what happened to oblivious and clueless?

then again, you’re bad with your own emotions, but you’re horribly good at reading others’

he flushes and hides his face in your stomach

he just wants to hear your answer, not hear you point out he’s probably extremely smitten with you

and it’s probably worse that you compared him to the lead actors in a romance movie

is he so obvious? is he not subtle at all?

does this mean you’ve known all along? you just didn’t want to make the first move?

or do you not feel the same way?

oh no, he’s overthinking again

“aventurine,” you call, snapping him out of his trance, “if you don’t say no, i’ll assume this is a love confession.”

man, why would you say it like that? it’s not that he can deny it, but if you’re going to be so damn straightforward…

“it… it is, i suppose, in more ways than one,” he whimpers in embarrassment, “will you, then, uh, will you say yes?”

he wants to trust you with all of himself so bad

finally he won’t have to shoulder everything alone anymore

he’ll tell you everything about his upbringing, even the ugliest parts

he’s been yearning for someone to hear him, to see him for so long

will you be his person?

he’s so excited and so scared

more scared than excited, actually

there are more issues he’ll need to work through, but for now?

he wants your promise

he doesn’t think he’ll ever come across someone as perfect as you again

so he really, really, really needs you to say yes 

as the low whirr of the hair dryer comes to a stop, you set the little device on the nightstand and sit down next to aventurine. you sandwich his face between your palms and make him meet your gaze – you’ll never get used to how mystically pretty his eyes are – as you flash him a lazy smile.

“if you’re sure you want me,” you mumble; it seems that you are just as embarrassed as he is, “then… by all means.”

just as he’s going to throw himself into your arms, you stand up

?????? where are you going ??????

oh, you’re just going to put away the hair dryer and the towel

and also bring a spare scarf back with you? 

did you forget that you have yours hanging on your neck

he’s so over the moon right now he’s all giddy and all over the place inside

are you perhaps the same? 

when you come back, he practically throws himself into your lap

you avoid his eyes

holy shit you’re cute when you’re flustered

you’re blushing

you, who’s usually so stoic and unresponsive, is blushing!!

and trying to hide your face without resorting to your scarf!!

in the end you give up and instead pull him so close that he can’t see your expression

he doesn’t know what he’s asking out, you think, he doesn’t know what he’s trying to trust

which makes it all the more endearing to you

and it makes you want to make sure you live up to his expectations

this little mortal has you wrapped around his finger, and you don’t find yourself annoyed at all

in fact you want to shelter him and coddle him so badly that you’re tempted to act on instinct

tempted to. you can’t, because of a lot a lot of reasons

again, seriously, you’ve been hanging around mortals for far too long

you gently press his face into your shoulder. “aven-” 

“kakavasha,” he corrects, “call me kakavasha. please.”

“okay, kakavasha.” you don’t hesitate, and you move to massage his scalp. “your real name?”

it seems like he’s in no mood to talk, because all he gives you is a quiet hum in affirmation; you agree with him, you don’t feel like talking much, either.

you pull away slightly to kiss right above his ear. then you did something he would’ve never expected you to do – with your nimble fingers, you wrapped the extra scarf in your hands around his neck, gave it a few loops then secured it with the same knot you use to secure yours.

what just happened

you slowly pull away with a soft pat to the piece of cloth

did you just give him…?

you did. you did, you mad danger noodle of incomprehensible mass

two faceless creatures with drool dripping from their maws stare at him

they’re connected to the scarf you put on him

he’s feeling so many things right now

even if he doesn’t quite understand what this means, he at least knows that you’ve given him a literal part of yourself

you’re very into this idea of being with him, huh…?

boy, he’s so glad he decided to confess

because he would’ve never known had he not asked

and what do you mean he would’ve missed out on something so wonderful?

this is also the first time someone outside of his family has ever given him something so precious and personal

he awkwardly reaches out to pet them

they nudge against his hand happily? 

that’s weirdly adorable for a creature that has a diet of literal monsters 

and much like satisfied pets, they disappear into the scarf after they’ve gotten their fill of petting

“for me?” aventurine- no, kakavasha asks, tentatively running his hands across the smooth fabric.

“proof of my loyalty to you,” you reply, taking his hand and placing kisses on his every finger. 

what you don’t tell him is that your promise will last for eternity and beyond – even if you fight, or part ways, you’ll always watch over him. he doesn’t need to know that. not yet, anyway.

“you…” kakavasha feels like he’s a child all over again. he’s safe, he’s not making a wager, he’s not going to win or lose here, he can finally take a breather. “you have no idea…”

he buries his face into you, grabs your sides so he can press his body tightly against yours, and he sobs into your chest. he isn’t surprised at all that the scarf around your neck would wrap around him too, and he’s just all bundled up in you.

“shh, shh.” you pat his back and rock him back and forth. “easy now,” you whisper, “i’m here, kakavasha.”

aeons, he really, really loves the sound of your voice, especially when you say his name. when it was aventurine, you were reliable, loyal, and above all, gentle; when he finally allows you to call him kakavasha, every syllable from your lips drips with unspoken affection and a gratefulness that he’s unused to.

maybe someday he’ll finally be able to proudly profess his love to you. but at this very moment…

this is enough.

[trippinsorrows]

looking through your eyes + four

authors note: hi! thank you so much for everyone who has left such kind words for this story! i'm so appreciative for the support and interest!

this one, i think, depicts a lot of contradicting thoughts and feelings for our two favorite characters. that's intentional.

i also take some creative liberties with medical and wrestling shit. let's just go with it, friends, por favor.

if any cw/tw’s are missed, please let me know, and i will add them!

cw/tw: language, violence, sexual harassment, hints at past self-harm, allusions to past suicide attempt, references to traumatic pasts

song inspo: ‘looking through your eyes’ by leann rimes

words: 10k

Roman has spent years coming home to a dark, empty house. It’s been his preference for just as long, enjoying the isolation following day after day of shit that needs to be handled. Because that’s usually how shit plays out for him. Roman’s always calling the shots, always figuring out how to navigate difficult, sticky situations. 

It's just what he does.

It’s why he’s been able to advance the Bloodline as much as he has. Because Roman is a man playing professional chess among a group of elementary checker players.

And he’d never voice or admit it to anyone, but the weight does sometimes get to him in one way or another. So, he’s learned to appreciate solitude. 

But he’s not met with solitude upon entering his home, which is both surprising and irritating considering it’s pushing 2 o’clock in the morning.

The only sound he should hear is the sound of his heavy footsteps from the front door to the bedroom. Instead, his feet carry him into the source of said sounds that are more pots banging and dishes being washed.

That’s how he immediately knows who it is without needing to check. But, Roman is more curious as to why she’s in the damn kitchen at this time of night instead of sleeping than the noise itself.

And he goes to ask as such when he gets even closer and realizes there’s more to the sound than clanging pots and running water. A soft, melodic, almost soothing voice singing in a language he doesn’t understand but recognizes as Spanish. 

Solana is singing, and she’s singing well, beautiful even. So much so that he finds himself leaning against the wall closest to the kitchen, watching as she moves about, earbuds pressed in her ears making her oblivious to his presence.

There’s a sense of relaxation to her, an almost smile as she sings. She doesn’t seem nervous nor skittish….just at peace.

That is she turns around and realizes he's standing there, watching her.

She snatches her earbuds out and immediately jumps on the train of unnecessary apologies. “I’m sorry! I didn’t—-you said you’d be back late.”

He chuckles, calmly pointing out, “it’s almost 2am.”

Her face is flushed red with unnecessary embarrassment. “I thought—I guess I figured that meant you’d come back in the morning.”

“I sleep in my own bed, if I can help it.” It’s a comfort thing, a nod to his preference for solitude. He’s never even stayed the night with Samantha, mostly because he knows her ass would see that as a damn marriage proposal.

Well, maybe not anymore.

“Why are you still up?”

“I—I couldn’t sleep.” It’s a simple answer he’s certain also includes a very real, dark backstory as to why she can’t sleep. He’s been there.

He gets it.

“I’ll be done soon—"

“You can stay up as long as you want. I don’t care.” And it’s true. The house is big enough for her to be making as much noise as she needs, and he probably wouldn’t hear anything from where his room is. He also recognizes the misery that comes with wanting but not being able to sleep, so if being in the kitchen is her distraction, then he’s good with that.

Of course, she continues with the apologies. “I’m sorry about the music—I just—the house was too quiet. I—I don’t like the quiet.”

“Solana.” He has to interrupt her. Roman’s not in the mood for her apology tour. Granted, he does hone in on the part of not liking the quietness of the house. Of course she would be the opposite of him. “I don’t care. Do what you want. Shit doesn’t impact me.”

Roman can see she’s unsure of how to take his words, most likely wondering if there’s some catch, if it’s followed up with a stipulation. But, there is none. As long as it doesn’t impact him, she can do what she wants.

“You have a nice voice,” he compliments, because again, it’s the truth. He’d never taken her as the singing type, but gradually, Roman is starting to see there may be more to Solana than meets the eye. 

Her unsure expression remains unchanged with the exception of her blush deepening as she mumbles a quiet, “thank you.”

Compliments of any sort seem to bother her, or maybe it’s less they bother her and more she’s unsure of how to respond because she’s not used to them.

He’d lean more on the side of that being the case.

Nevertheless, Roman decides to leave her be. “I’m going to bed.”

“Okay,” she says almost sheepishly, adding a quiet, “goodnight.”

Roman takes her in, the quietness and passiveness no longer as irritating as he once thought and believed it to be. It might still irk him, but the level of irritation isn’t as high as it used to be.

Whatever that means.

“Goodnight, Solana….”

————

From day one of moving into Roman's mansion, Solana has noticed the watch dogs that occasionally patrol the premises along with the armed guards. And while she’s always been tempted to ask to pet one, she’s also always decided against it. These dogs, like their handlers, are trained killers, not emotional support animals.

They’re not there for her to treat like objects.

But it’s when she walks outside, ready to head off to work, that she notices one guard with a dog Solana hasn’t seen before, a puppy, that she finds it in her to approach. With a couple minutes to spare before she has to leave for work, interacting with a dog seems like a nice way to start off the day.

Hand on her purse strap, she shoves back her anxiety about approaching this strange man, asking in a soft voice, “i–is he new?”

The guard sizes her up and down, answering with a gruff, “yeah.” 

Solana looks down at the dog who’s also staring up at her with just as much curiosity. Smiling gently, she carefully crouches down and waits for him to move closer. There's a generous leeway of his leash that would allow him to do so. 

Sure enough, the dog walks over to her, ears down. Giggling, she cautiously moves to pet him. “You’re so sweet….” And he is. Solana wonders if he’ll retain that sweetness once he undergoes his training. Unlikely. “Good boy…”

“He’s not a fucking pet.” The guard harshly scolds, giving a tug on the leash that makes the dog start to growl. Solana frowns, recognizing he’s annoyed with her interruption.

“I’m sor—”

But before she can finish her sentence, there’s a flash before her that seems almost too quick for her vision to process. But, when she does, she realizes Roman is now present, directly in front of the guard, hand wrapped around his throat. 

“Speak to her like that again, and I’ll cut your fucking tongue out your mouth.” His voice is as menacing and terrifying as the fire in his eyes. Roman shoves the man forward and demands. “Apologize. Now.”

The man is coughing, struggling to regulate his breathing but still manages to cough up a muttered, “I’m sorry.”

Solana feels and probably looks stumped at hearing such a thing. She can’t recall the last time someone has ever uttered those words to her. Understandably, she doesn’t know how to respond or react. 

“Leave,” Roman demands. And Solana isn’t sure she’s seen a man haul off as quickly as he does, guiding the dog along with him. 

Roman takes in her appearance as she stands up, nervously brushing any invisible lint off her pants. “You good?”

She nods, still not quite knowing how to take this. How to take Roman seemingly defending her. Or maybe he’s just defending what belongs to him. It has to be the latter of the two, because why would he care about defending her?

Red-faced, she tries to explain her actions. “It—it was my fault. I just—I saw the dog, and I just—I wanted to pet it.”

“Why are you apologizing for someone being rude to you? Does that shit make sense to you?” When he says it like that, no, it doesn’t. But it’s clearly meant to be rhetorical, as he then asks, “you like dogs?”

Nodding, she clarifies. “Small dogs, mostly. Big ones, umm, they kinda scare me.” As do most things. This, she’s sure, he’s noticed by now. “Uhh—what time do you want dinner ready?”

He shakes his head. “Don’t worry about that. I’ll be back late tonight.”

“Oh.” Solana is unsure why there’s a strange sense of disappointment in her belly at this. Late….

In her experience with her dad and brother, that usually means they won’t be back until the next day, most likely in the morning. 

This should make her feel a bit relieved, not having to be on edge, feeling worried about upsetting him. 

Even if the only thing regarding her that she’s seen upset him is when he perceives she’s being disrespected.

She’s not quite sure what to make of that either.

“Ayo, Lil’ Soso.” A new voice enters the conversation, one she’s gradually growing comfortable and used to. Jey walks out with a rubbermaid container in his hand, chewing obnoxiously as he approaches Solana and Roman. “What are these things? They’re pretty good.”

There’s a couple of things to process in that one interaction, starting with the nickname Jey has used to refer to her in the times she’s run into him in the house. The twins, along with Paul, seem to be at the mansion often. The interactions though, have allowed her to feel less tense around him. Around Jimmy too.

She hasn’t had enough interaction with Paul to feel that way about him, and she’s certain that won’t change. He seems only concerned with Roman and no one else, which is valid and fair considering his role as Roman’s chief advisor.

Going back to his question, she answers, “conchas.”

“Con what?”

His expression and delivery make her smile. “Conchas. It’s a Mexican pan dulce. Sweet bread.”

“I don’t know half of what you said, but this shit good as hell. You got any more?”

“Don’t you have fucking food at your house?” Solana would never show or admit to it, but it’s sometimes funny to her how Roman seems almost always annoyed with his eccentric cousins. There’s no doubt in her mind though that he wouldn’t hesitate to kill for them, that he’s probably done so. And vice versa.

But they also seem to get on his nerves just as much. 

“Man, Nicki on that shit again, talking about she ain’t cooking until I start treating her right. Me and the kids been eating out.”

Kids? That surprises her. She didn’t know Jey was a father. 

“Solana! When you train with Naomi, can you exchange some recipes with her or something?” Jimmy also joins in the conversation, walking over while rubbing his stomach. “Cause I don’t know what that meal was in the blue container, but shit slapped.”

It takes a minute for her to remember which one that was. She’s always been a bit meticulous about separating her meals accordingly. “Carnitas Huevos Rancheros.”

Jimmy hesitates. “Yeah sure, that.”

“Am I running a fucking food pantry?” It’s hard to tell if Roman is genuinely annoyed. Something tells her it’s that type of irritation he naturally gets with the twins but won’t actually do anything about. “It’s not her job to feed you idiots.”

“I don’t mind,” she offers, adding. “I–I like to cook.” And it’s the truth. It reminds Solana of her mom, of all the times she’d spend in the kitchen learning from and spending time with the one and only person on this planet who ever loved her. 

“See, Uce, she likes to cook,” Jey points out, wiping the crumbs off his fingers on his pants and tucking the now empty container under his arm. “I’ll just take this off your hands.”

Solana’s watch vibrating, reminding her that her shift starts in half an hour, is the perfect reminder that while this conversation is comical, it’s also interfering with her schedule. She’s also certain Solo is waiting patiently, or impatiently, by the SUV for her to jump in so they can get a move on. “I—I’ve gotta get to work, but I can have the food ready by tomorrow. I’ll just come home and cook after training.”

“If you feel like it,” Roman adds, and she knows better than to push back and tell him cooking is one of the few escapes she has. It’s become even more of an escape without the anxiety and pressure of her dad and brother demanding the food always be ready in sometimes unrealistic time frames and lashing out when that doesn’t happen.

To Roman’s credit, if he’s ever been annoyed with waiting a few extra minutes for meals, he’s done a perfect job not showing as such. 

She simply nods, acknowledging his stipulation, offering a quiet ‘bye’ as she jogs off to the SUV with Solo ready to escort her to work.

It’s when she’s gone that Jimmy walks up beside Roman. “Man, she can cook, she don’t got a smartass mouth, and she got a body? Shit, Uce, ain’t you glad I told you to go with her?” Roman doesn’t offer a reply, but he definitely gives Jimmy that look that lets his cousin know to get away from him. Roman’s always been big on personal space.

“Does she cook every night?” Jey comes up, asking with an almost level of excitement. “Shit, me and the kids finna start coming over here.”

“Shut up.” The hell they will. Roman is still adjusting to living with someone. The last thing he needs is his cousin and his spawns running around his place, making noise, breaking and touching shit. Not going to happen. “Is Paul already at the office?”

“Yeah. He’s got the updated figures for you to go over. And the RKO proposal was sent over as well for you to review.”

Nodding, Roman starts to create a mental agenda for tasks he needs to complete for the day. And it goes without saying that he’s forever impressed how his cousins are easily able to slide back and forth between professional bag and bumbling morons. 

It’s one of the reasons he keeps them around and as high up in command as they are.

“Good,” Roman acknowledges, sliding his sunglasses over his eyes. “Let’s go.”

————

“Hey!”

Naomi’s smile is just as bright and genuine as the first time Solana met her, and that’s something she doesn’t know how to take. A part of her figured Naomi was just being nice to her because Roman was around, because she was given an order, and no one defies the Tribal Chief’s orders.

And maybe she could even chalk this up to being an order as well, Roman tasking her with training Solana on how to fight, hence the continued kindness.

Regardless of the motivating factor, this woman is clearly a capable and trained fighter. A killer. 

Solana would do well to stay on her good side.

“It’s good to see you. We didn’t really get a chance to talk much, but obviously, I’m Naomi. Jimmy’s wife.” For some reason, Solana can see it. Can see these two together, even if she’s only been around both less than a handful of times. “I train a lot of the new recruits, mostly women, some men.”

“Men?”

Naomi chuckles. “That’s typically their reaction too. Right before I remind them who I am and what I can do.”

Solana isn’t sure she wants to know the answer to either of those. 

“Just out of curiosity, do you have any kind of combat training? Fighting knowledge in general?” It’s a valid question that only has one embarrassing answer. Solana guesses that Naomi picks up on this embarrassment, adding gently, “it’s okay if you don’t. It just gives me a baseline on where we should start.”

“No—I—I’ve never done anything like this before.” And she’s still not sure if she wants to, not sure what Roman thinks she will get from this. Him, along with everyone else around her, learned how to shoot a gun at the same time they learned how to walk. She doesn’t think she’s ever even held a gun. There’s no way humanly possible she could ever be even a fraction as good at this. 

And Roman has to know this.

So, why is he making me do it?

Again, either Naomi is insanely perceptive or Solana is much worse at hiding her emotions than she initially believed. 

She’d bet on the latter of the two.

“He doesn’t want you to be like us. He just—”

“He wants you to stop being so damn weak,” a new voice interjects. Solana recognizes the tall, intimidating woman from before when Roman had taken her to the Warehouse. She hadn’t had any direct interaction, but just the mere fact alone that she’d simply looked at Solana with disgust told her all she needed to know. “Wants you to grow a backbone.”

“Nia.” Naomi’s smile is dropped, traded for an intense stare. “Lay off her, okay? You heard what Roman said.”

“Oh yeah, we have to be nice to her.” Nia’s smile is mocking, her unimpressed gaze taking in Solana from head to toe. But Solana focuses on what Nia just said versus her judgmental countenance. Did Roman really tell them to be nice to her? Why? Why would he do that?

Nia walks over, crossing her arms over her body. “Well, here’s some kind advice, I can tell from one look at you that life hasn’t been very nice to you. But that doesn’t make you special.”

Naomi steps in. “Nia!”

“Bad shit happens to people all the time. At some point, you have to stop allowing yourself to be a victim.” If not for the fact that Solana knows Nia can’t stand her, she’d almost think Nia is offering what she believes to be genuine advice vs judging her. “You’re here. You survived it. Make that survival worth something.”

Naomi pushes Nia away from Solana, saying something to her that appears to be in defense of Solana, which she’d appreciate if not for the fact that she’s now in her head.

Nothing Nia said is inherently wrong. The world is undoubtedly both good and bad, perfect yet imperfect, wholly and incompletely balanced. These are all facts she’s well aware of, but what Nia doesn’t know or understand yet is that a person still being here doesn’t mean they survived. 

Solana is already broken.

There is no survival.

There’s just existence.

“Don’t listen to Nia,” Naomi advises. Looking around, Solana sees that at some point in her dissociation, Nia departed. Naomi continues with that same warm smile. “She can be a bitch sometimes, but she does mean well…..occasionally.” Hands on her hip, Naomi brings the attention back to the whole reason Solana is even at the Warehouse. “How about we just start with flexibility and mobility? Most of us are smaller than the men, and you definitely are, girl.”

Small……

That’s a word Solana has never thought to use to describe herself. 

“Being smaller means we can move around faster, can navigate around an attacker in a bit of a quicker way. But, you also have to be able to move in a way that’s lithe. Don’t worry. I gotchu, girl.”

They are reassuring words, words that Solana is grateful for, especially as they begin and she feels completely out of her element. Because she is. Solana isn’t the least bit lithe, and she’s certain her hand eye coordination is straight up shit.

But regardless of all that, Naomi remains kind, patient, and even makes conversation with her.

It doesn’t feel like she’s being made to do this, but more like something she gets to do. And Solana is grateful for that interaction, for the space to not feel like she’s burdening someone. That feels nice. So, so nice.

But equilibrium is a hard thing to achieve and even harder to maintain, so while one safe space is being created, another unsafe space is gradually forming in the midst of her oblivion.

Austin Theory and Grayson Waller, two upcoming, arrogant, fighters and wannabe heads have used the Warehouse for their training space for the past few months after finally proving and gaining access to the elite training grounds. 

And while the initiation and acceptance process was brutal and would ward most off from fucking up their membership status, Austin and Grayson have always been hardheaded, too blinded by their own hubris to recognize when they’re about to shoot themselves in the foot.

And shooting themselves is the least of their worries when Grayson is casually surveying the gym to see who’s present, his eyes landing on a woman in particular who catches his interest almost instantaneously. 

“Well, who do we have here?” Austin is confused initially, Grayson motioning across the way to where Solana completes her cooldown with Naomi. 

Immediately, Austin scoffs. “Since when does this place offer a weight watchers class?”

Chuckling, Grayson still pushes back. “Hers is in the right places though, mate,” Grayson again advises Austin to watch Solana as she happens to be leaning back, palms flat on the ground making her top hug against her chest.

Austin makes a face. “Decent.”

“Who is she?” Grayson asks again as Austin notices a semi-familiar face walking nearby.

“Melo.”

Carmelo shifts his Beats headphones so they’re no longer covering his ears. “Whassup?”

Austin subtly gestures to Solana, asking, “who is that?”

Carmelo follows the line of vision and almost immediately snatches his eyes back to the duo. “Yo. You fuckin’ crazy?” 

“What?”

Carmelo repeats himself, a sense of urgency in his voice. “Do you know who that is?”

“Pretty sure that’s what we just fucking asked you, dumbass,” Austin slaps him upside the head. “Now who is she?”

“Solana Miller. Well, Solana Reigns now, I guess.” Carmelo lowers his voice, as if speaking too loudly will attract too much attention. And he’s not entirely wrong. “Roman’s wife.”

Grayson makes a face, looking between Carmelo and Austin for elaboration. “Reigns got married? Bullshit. That bloke is the last man to ever walk down the aisle.”

“You two would do well getting your head from up your asses every once in a while. It’s a recent thing, but still a thing. So unless you want your insides literally ripped from out of you, it’d be best to leave her the fuck alone.”

Austin, the most smug of the two, is the first to protest. “Don’t tell me you’re one of those. Everyone makes Roman out to be this big bad who can’t be touched. He defends, what, once every six months?” Austin scoffs. The fear that the “Head of the Table” seems to have over everyone has never made sense to him. Sure, he’s heard things, even seen some things, but that’s always been because Roman called the shot. He’s not the one actually taking or making them. “Everyone knows he has his heron boys do his dirty work for him.”

“Plus, isn’t the guy pushing 40? What the fuck is he going to do?” Grayson laughs.

“Break his fucking hip trying to chase us.”

Carmelo shakes his head as the two dipshits laugh at their unfunny humor. “I’m telling ya’ll. Messing with her is a death wish. Plus, I heard she’s not even like that. That’s she’s like….shy and shit.”

If intended to ward the two off, it does the complete opposite. Theory smirks. “Those are always the freakiest.”

Carmelo backs away, lifting his hand in a surrender motion. “Can’t say I ain’t warn you. Dig your own graves.” With zero interest in having any part of what these two are clearly planning, Carmelo puts his headphones back over his ears and jogs off to start his training. 

And it’s a wise decision as Austin and Grayson, forever the patient predators stalking their prey wait for Naomi to walk off, time it well so that there’s an appropriate enough time for Solana to walk off to the showers, get clean, and walk out at the same time they happen to be lurking in the halls that lead to the locker rooms. 

That’s exactly how it plays out too, Solana looking down in her bag to grab her phone and text Solo that she’s done and ready to leave when a voice nearly knocks the wind out of her.

“Hi there.”

Solana gasps as loud as the sound of her back colliding with the brick wall behind her from how startled she is.

Instantly, she’s met with a set of cold blue eyes and wicked smile. “Solana, right?”

Breathing feels like it’s an optional thing, her hands still gripping the brick wall behind her. She can only nod her answer.

“Austin.” He then nods to the other man that Solana realizes is leaning back against the wall opposite her. The anxiety intensifies. “This is my buddy, Grayson. You must be new around here?”

Solana doesn’t want to speak, doesn't want to be near these two who have her practically cornered. But, she also doesn’t want to piss them off either. “Y—yeah.”

Austin’s eyes twinkle with nothing that seems good. “You really are shy, huh?”

“They make the best.” Grayson comments from his propped up position. Solana doesn’t allow herself to think too much about what he’s implying. She just wants to get the hell away from them. One look, and she knows they’re up to no good.

It makes her sick to her stomach.

The idea of walking past these two brings a visceral, physical response that has her mouth watering. She feels like she’s going to throw up, but she also knows she needs to get the hell away from them. “I—I have to go.” From where the next thing to come out her mouth stems from, she doesn’t know, but it’s blurted with all the nerves in her body. “R-Roman is waiting for me.”

He’s not. She actually has no idea where he is, but there’s a part of her that wonders if reminding them of who she is, who her husband is will make them back off.

“Of course,” the one with an accent speaks, motioning with his arm for her to leave. “Don’t want to keep the Chief waiting.”

The mockery in his tone unease her even more. Does he not realize just who Roman is? What he’s capable of. 

Regardless, the second Austin backs away a bit, she’s darting through the hall, trying to put as much distance between herself and the two men, but she’s not far enough to miss the ominous departing statement from Austin.

“See you around, Solana.”

Something tells her this won’t be the last time she runs into them, and it leaves a deep, disturbing feeling in the pit of her stomach.

This isn’t good. 

It’s not good at all. 

————

Dear Mom,

I’m still alive. 

That’s a good thing, I guess. Life with Roman has been….a strange experience. The most important thing is that he hasn’t hit me yet, but I’ve been trying really hard not to upset him or get on his bad side. I do my best to make sure all of his meals are ready and on time, which I guess helps. 

But to be honest……he kinda confuses me. 

He hasn’t been unkind, and I don’t think I’ve ever experienced him really yelling at me. Not like I’ve seen him yell and scream at others. So, that’s also good. It’s a bit of walking on eggshells, just waiting for him to snap and hit me, but not as much as I was thinking.

I don’t know….it hasn’t been as bad here as I thought it would be. For the most part, he just leaves me alone. We don’t even eat dinner together, which is fine, cause I can’t see why he’d want to spend time with me anyway. 

But, he confuses me because it feels like sometimes he’s defending me or something, which doesn’t make sense because why would he do that? That would mean he has to care to some extent, right? I keep trying to remind myself that it’s probably not me he’s defending but his pride and standing, because I think being mean or disrespecting me is like disrespecting him? I’m not sure, but it’s definitely a new experience.

I haven't spoken to or heard from Wes and dad. Roman made me get a new phone with a new number that I’m not sure either of them have. I don’t know if I want to think too much about how bad it’s going to be when I finally do see them again…..

Wes made it clear I was supposed to be keeping in contact with them, but that hasn’t happened. Truth be told, I try not to think about that. Think about the fact that I’m somehow supposed be figuring out a way to…..to kill Roman. I could never do that. I could never kill anyone. You know that, mama. 

Even more….I feel like Roman is growing on me, like maybe he’s not as bad as I thought, like maybe there’s more to him than meets the eye.

I think….I think that I could learn to like living here.

—------

“WarGames?”

To Solana, it’s a simple question, because it’s definitely not an everyday term. But that’s clearly not the case given the startled expressions on both Bayley and Naomi’s face.

It’s becoming something she is slowly starting to enjoy. Not necessarily the training part, but the socialization. It’s something Solana has been deeply deprived of over the years, so to have someone to talk to, someone who wants to talk to her means a lot. 

Even if it’s technically a job she was assigned by Roman, Naomi has never made her feel like their interactions are forced. 

Moreover, it was just in last week’s training session, Solana was thoroughly and pleasantly surprised to find out Bayley is also a member of the Warehouse and friends with Naomi, that reunion almost giving Solana a sense of giddiness. 

She’s wanted to reach out since the wedding but never followed through based upon her fear that she’d be bothering Bayley. 

Clearly, that’s not the case. 

Solana is certain she’ll never forget Bayley’s kindness on a day where she really needed to believe in something, believe that there is always at least one reason to keep breathing, to be alive.

But, it’s when Solana asks about this topic Naomi and Bayley were discussing that attracts confounded expressions. 

“You’re kidding right?” Bayley is the first to speak, glancing between herself and Naomi. “He didn’t tell you?”

Still confused, Solana presses, “tell me what?”

“I’m not surprised Roman didn’t, but someone definitely should have.” Naomi shakes her head, shifting into an explanation.. “War Games. It’s an annual match. Super big deal. It’s a show of strength and dominance for the Bloodline. Kinda hard to explain. You’ll just have to see for yourself.”

It sounds….intense. “I—I don’t think I’m invited.”

“Your hubby has clearly been a bachelor for way too long for him to realize that he has to tell you these things.” Bayley rolls her eyes but protests Solana’s belief that she would somehow not be invited to one of the Bloodline’s most important yearly events. “You’re definitely invited. As Roman’s wife, you have to be there. It would be seen as a sign of great disrespect to him if you didn’t.””

Disrespecting Roman…..never a good idea.

“When is it?”

Naomi seems to hesitate before answering. “Tomorrow night” And before Solana can panic at such short notice, Naomis is reassuring her that it will all work out. “Don’t worry. Bay and I will help you get ready.”

“Hell yeah.” Bayley already goes into strategizing mode. “I’ll handle your hair and makeup, and Naomi can find you a kickass dress.”

“Red, of course. That’s the only non-negotiable. Bloodline thing, ya know.” Solana figured as such. She also briefly wonders if that’s why Roman has been coming back home late the past few weeks, because he’s been training? “But, I will say we usually dress….well, like we’re going clubbing for these kinds of events, so it’s gonna be short, tight, and a tad bit revealing.”

That is something that gives Solana pause. None of those things scream appealing to her at all. She doesn’t have the body to dress like that. Not with the rolls, stretch marks, and scars that mar hers. 

“I—I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” she finds it in herself to voice her opinion. A rarity. “I don’t—I don’t think I’d look good in something like that.”

Both Bayley and Naomi cast her confused expressions, Naomi being the first to speak. 

“Why?” Naomi presses, gesturing up and down. “Girl, you have a nice ass shape. You would fill out a bodycon dress nicely.”

Solana has a hard time digesting what Naomi is saying. She would look great in a dress like that. Naomi is both fit and curvy, the perfect amount of curves in the right places without unnecessary fat. Same for Bayley.

For Solana, the less skin she’s showing the better, though she wonders if the kind of attire they’re describing is some type of dress code, meaning there is no room to protest. 

The last thing she wants is for it to get back to Roman that she’s being “difficult.”

Defeated, she murmurs an ‘okay’ as the two of them engage in more conversation about this WarGames as well as fashion options. To be fair, they try to include her in, but Solana is too into her head about what this alleged night is as well as what it could include.

—---

Naomi wasn’t lying when she said that Solana would have to see WarGames for herself to understand it. That’s the absolute truth. 

It’s a spectacle, to say the least. 

For one, it’s a ton of people packed around the ring, the massive room where fights take place. The noise is boisterous, almost deafening, people drunk, swearing, placing bets, most of which are on the Bloodline.

And thankfully, Solana and Co. are seated in the upper area, a VIP box of sorts, away from the unruly crowd. She’s thankful for this for a lot of reasons, one of the biggest being the fact that she feels extremely uncomfortable in her dress. And just in general, but mostly with how much scarred skin is showing.

The dress is exactly as Naomi said it would be: short, red, and a bit revealing. Thankfully Naomi picked out a dress with a halter neckline that prevents any cleavage from showing, but there’s a split high up on the thigh that she finds herself trying to constantly adjust.

“You look great, Solana.” Bayley wears that same friendly, encouraging smile from Solana’s wedding day. “And I get that you’re self-conscious about your body, but I can guarantee these men would line up by the dozen for a chance to go home with you if not for your psycho-killer husband.”

Bayley playfully nudges her shoulder, and while Solana can emit a chuckle, she can’t bring herself to laugh. That line of men would be just as disappointed as she’s sure her psycho-killer husband was on their wedding night.

But, this isn’t the time and place for that.

“You look nice,” Solana compliments, partially a deflection technique but mostly the truth. Bayley, Naomi, and Nicki, who she met earlier that night and learned was Jey’s wife, all look exceptional in their numbers. Bayley is the only one not wearing red, for obvious reasons, but the jade green compliments her complexion well.

“We all look nice,” she says loud enough for the other two to hear.

Nicki opens her mouth to respond when the lights in the arena start to shift.  “Ugh. This bitch again.” Nicki’s scowl and expression of irritation draws Solana’s attention to the woman in the ring, who now has the spotlight on her, a woman she immediately recognizes as being there that night Roman woke her up from a nightmare.

The woman is tall, curvy in the right places, beautiful, bouncy curls cascading down her back. If she has a lot of makeup on, Solana can’t tell because it’s painfully obvious she’s been blessed with natural beauty. Everything about her is just so gorgeous.

At the time, she didn’t think anything of it, too caught in the haze of trauma. But now, curious and believing she can receive an answer, Solana asks, “who is she?”

“The most annoying person ever,” Nicki answers, taking a swig of her drink. In only knowing Nicki for less than an hour, Solana both does and doesn’t understand the compatibility between herself and Jey. They seem very much alike yet dissimilar. It makes sense why they fight as much as they do.

“That’s Samantha.” There’s no way to misinterpret the disgust in Nicki’s voice even as she pronounces Samantha’s name with undeniable distaste. “She does the announcements for events, but her daytime job is being a professional hooker.”

“Nicki!” Naomi shakes her head. “I think she’s a paralegal for a lawyer or something, but she’s mostly known as a pain in everyone’s ass. Always has been. Ever since we were in high school. She thinks because she’s light skinned with ‘good hair’ that she’s better than everybody.”

“Don’t forget about Roman,” Nicki chimes with her nose upturned. “She really thinks she’s hot shit though because she’s number one on his ‘I want my dick sucked’ list.”

This causes Solana to pause for a second. “What?”

She’s not stupid. Why else would this Samantha have been over at the house that late at night? And with Roman? Solana figured early on that if he isn’t getting any from her, then he has to be getting it from somewhere. Truthfully, even if their marriage did involve sex, she’s not sure he still wouldn’t find his way in between the legs of another woman.

But, there’s something about having it confirmed, hearing for herself that he gets around, that he clearly has a high sex drive that adds a whole new layer of insecurity.

She’s known from day one she could never be anyone he wanted or needed, and he expressed as such that day at the library, but this conversation makes it feel more…..real.

And she’s unsure why or just what makes this bring on a sense of sadness.

“Come on, I get you’re quiet and innocent and shit, but everyone knows that man is a hoe. If you’re black or black–ish with a vagina, fat ass, and big titties, he’ll fuck you. Cause none of them fools fuck with white girls.” She glances at Bayley, almost sympathetically. “No offense.”

“I’m Mexican.”

This serves as a brief, nice distraction for Solana. She suspected that Bayley wasn’t entirely white, but hearing that she’s Hispanic, Mexican, makes Solana feel a small slice of excitement. She makes a mental note to ask her if she speaks Spanish. 

Solana hasn’t been able to communicate in the language her mother made sure to teach her in secret given Xavier’s protest since her murder. So, the idea of being able to communicate with another person in that language makes her feel a bit excited. Maybe more than a bit.

Nicki is dismissive, though there’s a hint of humor there. Like she knows and is just messing with the other woman. “Sure you are, Bay.”

Bayley rolls her eyes and assures Solana. “Don’t listen to her.”

“Ya’ll, don’t lie to this girl.” Nicki seems dead set on stressing this point, and Solana can’t figure out if it comes from a good place, a drunk place, or somewhere in between the two of them. “If it wasn’t common knowledge he don’t fuck none of these bitches raw and makes most get on birth control, I’d tell you to not let that fool touch you with a ten foot pole.”

Bayley is watching Solana, sees the discomfort growing at this conversation and moves to change the conversation. “Why don’t we talk about you and Jey and why I literally saw him flirting with Sasha the other day?”

At that, Nicki drops her drink, cussing loudly, “man, fuck him! I don’t give a fuck about him or that bony heifer! I’ll beat the shit out both of them.”

“Nicki. Shut the fuck up. You may beat her ass, but you gon be right back to drunk spilling about how good Jey’s dick is when it’s all said and done.” Naomi dismisses, and something tells Solana she’s not wrong. Nicki and Jey seem to have a bit of a…..tumultuous relationship.

“I mean it this time!”

“Uh huh, sure sis.”

“And if you don’t give a fuck about him, why are you here?” Naomi challenges. 

All eyes on her, even Solana’s slightly curious gaze, Nicki falls back in her chair and mumbles, “cause that’s my man.”

Naomi and Bayley are a chorus of laughter and whooping and hollering, roasting Nicki for her contradictory statements.

Flashing blue lights illuminate the arena as everyone immediately moves to their feet followed by opening music that almost instantly brings chills up Solana’s arms. The lights then transition to a combination of red and blue, the sound of cheering intensifying as she redirects her focus back to where the first group entered. 

Solana’s eyes instantly, maybe even naturally, land on Roman. He stands first among the men, shirtless, ula fala around his neck, championship belt around his waist, a look of fierce determination and stoicism painted across his handsome face. 

And that body…..rippling muscles glistening under the heat of the lights.

It’s a strange and miserable experience. Feeling all of the sensations and attractions a human typically has to another human being but having an almost inability to act on them. It’s not that Solana isn’t attracted to Roman. She finds him to be sinfully attractive. The issue is that whenever she thinks about what physical acts take place when two people find each other attractive is when her head is swarmed with vivid memories and flashbacks of being violated in the worst way possible.

And the attraction is stumped by fear and trauma. Fear of being touched. Fear of being with anyone in that way. 

It’s like Roman said. He can get that from anyone, so why would he bother with her?

When he has someone like Samantha, prettier, smaller, easier, at his disposal?

It brings a wave of sadness over her that she’s grateful isn’t noticed by the other ladies who are focused on the start of the match.

And to her credit, Solana tries to pay attention, grateful and thankful for Naomi and Bayley occasionally pointing out certain aspects of how it works, why the two groups are separated, individual members from each side periodically being sent into the line of fire.

“Roman always goes last,” Naomi explains at one point.

“Save the best for last type shit,” Bayley adds, finishing off her beer and asking for another. 

“More like once he gets his ass in there, it’s a wrap. Everyone left getting smashed.” Solana believes this wholeheartedly. She’s just not sure if she wants to see that, see that side of him up close. 

It exists, obviously, but it’s hard to compare the killer she knows he is to the man he’s been to in the short duration of their marriage.

Almost….almost kind. 

The fighting, brutal and bloody, all occurs in the ring, but Solana constantly finds her gaze falling back to Roman. He remains seated, patiently or maybe impatiently waiting for his turn, never once ripping his gaze from the match. She sees Paul outside the cage, occasionally speaking to Roman, advising as he always does. 

Solana can tell he’s completely immersed, focusing solely on the match before him. 

And it’s when there’s some type of in-ring argument between the twins and the other member-in-training of sorts, Sami, she thinks Naomi called him, that she turns to the ladies. “What are they doing?”

“Sealing a death wish,” Nicki answers with a shake of her head. “Roman gon’ have all they asses for this.”

Naomi sighs loudly, advising Solana after the bickering results in one of the men from the other group getting the upper hand, landing a particularly brutal looking kick to Jey. “There’s been some….contention between Sami and the twins, mostly Jey, but Nicki isn’t entirely wrong. They should know better than to let that shit interfere with a match. Roman will most likely make them stay after and……yeah.”

Solana doesn’t need a detailed explanation. She has a good idea of what Roman making them pay will look like. It’s also not something she wants to see.

The match, in and of itself, despite the excitement and pure interest of everyone around her, isn’t necessarily something she wants to see. Solana has seen, been exposed, and experienced enough fighting violence to last her a lifetime. 

This is entertainment to them, but for her, it’s been her lived experience.

So, she doesn’t feel any sort of adrenaline rush watching grown men beat the crap out of each other, blood, sweat, and bruised, battered bodies putting themselves through hell. It gives her some relief to see that the Bloodline, for the most part, remains with the upperhand. Even with their in-house argument earlier in the fight. 

But, it’s when the timer that ends with another man joining the brawl moves to a ten second countdown that her interest grows a bit more. It grows a bit because Roman is finally about to enter the ring.

She watches him, has mostly just watched him this entire time. He’s just as unbothered as he was the minute he walked in. Adjusting his gloves while Paul clearly tries to bestow some last minute wisdom before he makes his entrance.

It feels a bit redundant. She’s certain this man doesn’t need anyone helping him with anything.

And as soon as the timer winds down to zero, Roman gradually making his way to the ring, Solana knows she was right. Knows he doesn’t need help, because he’s been studying and planning for the past almost 45 minutes. Strategizing.

It shows the minute the men, all 10 of them go at it. It’s hard to keep track of all of the mayhem, fists flying, kicks landing in areas that are sure to require a couple days to recover. But, it’s Roman who still manages to catch and hold Solana’s attention. He moves with such precision and accuracy, blows every bit as barbarous and violent as his reputation warrants.

There’s a small part of her that experiences something she can’t quite label or understand when he takes a hit, especially when a member of the other team manages to catch Roman off guard, sending him into the table, the weight of him snapping it in half.

At that, she nervously starts to move her fingers up and down the side of her dress. But, Roman, while clearly impacted from the blow by the blood starting to stream down the back of his arm only seems further enraged. Like being attacked has somehow refueled him, recharged his already pre-existing rage.

“They are in trouble now….” Naomi murmurs, shaking her head, as if she knows what’s about to come. “Roman hates getting hit, and they made him bleed too?”

It’s the blood part, maybe, that bothers Solana. It’s silly given who he is and the fact that he’s clearly holding his own just fine, but Solana wonders why he doesn’t or can’t have that tended to. It has to hurt.

But, then again, it all hurts, so maybe the pain just numbs itself out.

And maybe Roman is clearly caught up and consumed in adrenaline, in the mad rush of the battle, because it seems from the table slam on out, no one is touching him. He’s all over the place, strong blows resulting in grown men crying out in pain. She’s certain those closer to the actual ring can hear the sound of bones crunching, an inevitable thing given the abnormal distortion of limbs she sees on the other team.

He yells and taunts his opponents, one by one, laying them out with the somewhat assistance of the rest of the men. Truth be told, Roman could have probably tagged out the other four men and handled the other team all on his own. 

He’s just that effective.

And when there’s only one man standing, barely, Roman moves to the other side of the ring, face turned up in rage, watching and waiting for the perfect moment for him to dart across, laughing into a spear so forceful that it knocks the man unconscious instantly, guaranteeing an instant, easy pin.

The crowd erupts in cheers, Roman’s music sounding as Samantha formally announces the Bloodline as the winners.

There’s a strange sense of relief that Solana has at that, at the fact that this is all over, that the fighting is done. That Roman is done, because her mind keeps going toward the fact that he probably needs some level of medical attention and when said attention is going to happen.  

But while she expects the Bloodline to start their exit, she’s instead met with security dragging the unconscious bodies of the losing team outside of the ring.

“What’s happening?” Solana asks Bayley, realizing that the women are starting to pack up to head out. “Isn’t—isn’t it over?”

“For us, yes.” Her eyes set on the twins, Solo, and Sami. “For them, it’s just beginning.” Solana reflects back on their in-ring argument and Naomi’s foreshadowing about this happening, about this punishment.

And one glance at Roman, his hulking shoulders lifting and lowering with his heavy panting. His eyes are flaming with a fury he clearly intends to take out on his team.

“Come on.” Naomi draws Solana’s attention. “I’ll ride home with you, cause Solo ain’t gon be free no time soon.”

None of them will.

Solana recognizes this and agrees, but it’s not without a sense of disappointment at not leaving with Roman.

And that confuses her. It confuses her a lot.

She didn’t arrive with him, so why would she leave with him?

More importantly, why does she care that she’s not leaving with him?

—----------

“I–I can do that for you.”

There are some things meant to be thought and some things meant to be said. This is one of those things that should have stayed in Solana’s head instead of rolling off her tongue the way it does. 

She was only supposed to ask him if he wanted her to make anything in particular for breakfast tomorrow, not offer to freaking suture stitches for him.

Well, that’s not entirely true, because as it’s almost damn midnight, she could and should at least be in bed trying to sleep. She’s been home for almost two hours, showered, changed into her oversized shirt and sweats. 

She shouldn’t even be standing before him, but there was some type of unease she had at trying to fall asleep without making sure he made it home, without seeing to it that he tended to any injuries he sustained tonight.

Solana almost feels like that’s what she should do, like she should make sure she’s available to assist him with anything he may need. Like it’s just another thing that could keep him from directing his anger from earlier towards her. 

And it’s slightly less stressful for her in knowing that he’s more likely to harshly dismiss her, maybe even chastise her for unintentionally implying he’s somehow incapable. However, instead of a rebuff, he simply looks at her, asking, “you know how?”

Solana doesn’t know why, but she takes this as a sign that he’s accepting her offer. Walking over to where he sits at the kitchen island, she sees he already has the supplies laid out. “I—I’ve had a lot of experience.”

Some of it from patching up her dad and brother but most of it from patching up herself over the years, from watching and learning from her mother tend to her wounds after sustaining beatings from Xavier. “My mom was also a nurse. She—she taught me a lot.” Like the proper way to suture. “Did—did you already disinfect?”

Solana is slightly nervous when he says no. That means she’s the one that’s going to have to inflict that brief but potent burning pain.

Lovely.

Nonetheless, she readies the cloth, holding it over the cut before warning, “this—this might sting.”

“I don’t care.” And she believes it. Seeing him in the ring tonight, his prowess, his brutality, she’s not sure if anything could hurt him.

Solana proceeds to clean and disinfect the area before grabbing the sutures to start stitching him back up.

Roman suddenly asks her. “Did you want to go into the medical field?” Roman recalls from the file he read on her that she never pursued any higher education beyond high school, something else he marked against her at the time. Education and knowledge have always been important to him.

But meeting her and slowly learning more about her backstory, he wonders if that was of her own choosing, hence his asking.

Solana, meanwhile, can’t figure out why he’s even talking to her in the first place. He seemed, justifiably, annoyed with and not wanting to be bothered with any and everyone post match. Now he’s asking her questions about things she hasn’t thought about in years. 

Still, she answers with the truth. “I—I wanted to be a nurse. Like my mom.” 

This doesn’t surprise Roman as he follows up with, “why didn’t you?”

A lot of reasons. Many of which she has very little desire to share, not that she could or would even want to ever voice as such to the man sitting in front of her. 

That’d be an instant death wish.

“My—my father. He, umm, didn’t want me to leave home.” It’s a version of the truth, the unabridged version being he didn’t want her to leave home because he wouldn’t be able to control her if she did so.

And Solana has a feeling that she doesn’t need to share all that, that Roman already knows this.

“Why didn’t you just leave?” Roman’s delivery, like most of the time, is insensitive. But, he genuinely wants to know. For what reason did she stay there all those years, in a house of horrors instead of just leaving and never looking back?

It’s a fair, simple question with a complex, layered answer that she greatly simplifies. 

“I tried. It—it never worked out.” And it’s when Roman hears the sudden sadness in her voice, sees the way her eyes temporarily shift to her inner forearms, horizontal faded scars that he’s just now able to see from how close she is to him that he gets it.

He realizes that she tried in more ways than one, none of them being successful.

And in a truly coincidental way, Solana notices he’s also cut on the back of his bicep. It’s also in her being so close to him that she realizes underneath the intricacies of the tribal tattoos on his forearm, there are scars. Burn scars, nothing severe, but visible enough for her to notice. 

It makes her wonder about where he got them, how he got them, not that she’d ever have enough bravery to ask.

She instead clears her throat and gestures to the cut. “Do–do you want me to do that one too?”

It takes a second for Roman to think about what she’s asking. “Is it deep enough?”

Without thinking about it, she brings her hand to finger to lightly feel the cut that was clearly poorly and in a rush patched up post fight. Nodding, she explains, “it’s deeper than about 1/4th an inch, so yeah, I—you should let me.” And in realizing she’s touching him, like she isn’t doing the same thing while suturing, she snatches her hand back, apologizing quietly.

He doesn’t think he’s ever had a woman apologize for touching him.

“Okay.” 

And that’s it, he doesn’t protest, doesn’t chastise her for making it seem like he doesn’t know or understand injuries. He just allows her to work on him, Solana doing her best to ignore the fact that he’s so close to her, his big, strong body, even while seated, overwhelming her. 

But while this would typically cause Solana to go into panic mode, being so close to a half dressed man, she doesn’t feel that with Roman. She doesn’t feel anything at all. No anxiety, no fear, just some nameless emotion that doesn’t evoke her typical nervous responses.

“Okay.” Finishing up, Solana moves to clean up the supplies, discarding what is no longer usable. “Just….don’t get it wet for next few hours, and apply the ointment as needed, but—I’m sure you know all this already.” She feels silly for speaking to him as if he hasn’t patched himself up or been stitched up countless time before. “I’m gonna—I’m gonna go to bed now.”

Not wanting to risk embarrassing herself further, she turns on the heel of her foot and starts walking off, only to stop when he calls for her. 

“Solana.”

She turns around, and Roman is briefly caught up in how she presses her lips together, trying to suppress a frown. She thinks she’s done something wrong.

One more sweep of her frame from bottom to top, remembering the stunning complement and contrast of the red dress against her complexion. He compliments, “you looked beautiful tonight.”

She looks absolutely taken back by what is an obvious statement. Taken back and confused. “M—me?” She’s pointing to herself, brows arching together. And for a second, there’s a small hint of a growing smile as she asks, as if he could have made a mistake. “Really?”

He didn’t.

Roman doesn’t make mistakes

Solana has a lot of things fucked up about her, but one thing not a damn person can deny is that she’s absolutely gorgeous with a body to match. That’s just a fact, why he felt the need to express said fact is a bit beyond him, but Roman doesn’t allow himself to think too much about it. It’s not a sentimental thing at all, just a plain fact being stated, if anything.

“Thank you,” she finally says as he notices the reddening of her cheeks. “Umm, good night.” Solana’s hand is on the banister, her finger squeezing tighter than the coils in her stomach. “Roman?”

It would be a hell of a lot easier if he would have just ignored her, but he doesn’t. His gaze snaps up to her from the phone now in his hand.

The same hand she witnessed just tonight pummel grown men, just as muscular and intimidating as he is to a bloody pulp. The same hand that could easily take her life, could have her clinging onto life with just one beating. And that’s all she can see at the thought of telling him about Grayson and Theory messing with her, that it’s now happened twice, they’ve caught her off guard and alone, sexually harassing her. 

Nia’s words from the other day return to the front of her mind.

“He wants you to stop being so weak.”

He’ll blame her. He’ll blame her the same way her father blamed her for what they did to her. He’ll blame her for being so weak. That’s what Solana knows will happen. Knows he’ll say she was leading them on, that she must have done something to garner their interest in her. And he’ll be angry.

He’ll be angry at her.

And nothing good ever comes out of Roman Reigns being angry.

She’s seen it for herself firsthand tonight.

Determine to find a way to deal with this on her own, she shakes her head, “nothing. S–sorry.” She’s turned back to the steps when he says her name this time. His tone clear and authoritative.

She jumps, immediately turning back around to face him. He’s now standing near the steps where she stands, halfway between rescue and ridicule.

Something flashes in his gaze at her obvious nervousness, but he quickly refocuses on the topic at hand. “You have something to say, so say it.”

A deep layer of regret and anxiety settles in at the realization that there is no lying to Roman. He’s adroitly skilled in reading between the lines and seeing through bullshit. Or maybe she’s just that bad at lying.

Hopefully not the latter because another lie is about to roll right out.

“I was just—I was gonna sleep in tomorrow, but I have to make your breakfast, so I’ll just—”

“You don’t have to do anything, Solana.” 

Roman knows she’s lying. Knows she just pulled that out of her ass instead of sharing whatever it is she initially wanted to say. It’s probably something stupid too, something he won’t give two shits about, but something she thinks he gives two shits about. And he’d push her if not for the fact he can tell she’s getting all nervous and shit on him again. The last thing he needs is her having another panic attack. 

“Sleep in,” he directs. This is a conversation, much to his chagrin, that will have to take part in sections. And it’s too late in the evening to hash out one of those sections. And to be fair, there is a part of him that recognizes she probably does feel like she needs to be up at the ass crack of dawn like him to have his first meal of the day ready to go. And his lunch. And his dinner.

Granted, Roman can’t and won’t complain about all of it, because the girl can cook her ass off.

But, it’s not necessary.

He’s more than capable of taking care of himself.

He’s done so since he was 10 years old.

“Thank you.” She does that thing again where she smiles like he’s just told her she’s won the lottery or been given the cure to world hunger. It’s the simplest things that seem to make her happy. Considering the bar has already been set so low, it makes a bit of sense.

It makes a lot of sense.

“Goodnight.”

Roman is certain she’s intentional in the way she turns on the heel of her foot to move up the stairs, putting as much distance between the two of them to avoid a follow up question. Her avoidance behavior is a bit impressive, irksome, but still impressive, nonetheless.

And it would be remiss of Roman to not sneak a peak of her retreating form moving up the steps, his eyes glued to the sway of her ass, again remembering that short, red dress that momentarily distracted him when he laid eyes on her at the match.

Roman would never deny his physical attraction to her. That’s just a fact. She’s shaped in a way that makes his dick hard at the thought of having that body underneath his, writhing, begging for him to not stop fucking her in all the ways he would if he could.

But, that’s a fantasy. It’s a fantasy because the reality is that he can’t even touch this girl without her freaking out on him, something that would annoy him greatly if he didn’t realize there’s a reason behind her jumpiness.

Something that’s beyond just her shitty father and brother. 

Roman doesn’t allow himself to travel down that path, to see what it might lead to because just the thought of what might be the reason she doesn’t like being touched has his fist forming at his side, nostrils flared, and anger brewing at an accelerated pace that doesn’t make sense.

It also doesn’t make sense when he grabs his phone, navigating to the desired thread, sending a text he doesn’t think much about.

Roman: Get me a list of dog breeders. Small dogs. Preferably local. We can travel if necessary.

Paul: Sir?

Roman: Just do it.

Paul: I’ll have it to you by tomorrow morning.

[fayesia]

Freak

Martin (In The Modern World - Fontaines D.C.)

warnings: nsfw 18+, readers lowkey mean to Martin, p in v, unprotected sex, cunnilingus, doggy style, handjob, squirting, fingering, spit play, creampie, hair pulling, rimming (brief), p with a little plot, filthy words on a screen :D

You were always cautious. Walking the same route home. Past the cobbled roads, the dark forested pine trees, and old abandoned buildings. None screamed safety nor comfort, neither of which you expected when moving into the area.

As long a you were free. Successfully escaping the pressures in your life, the heavy weight of hands pressing and pulling you, moulding you, into what they wanted you to become.

So, yes, maybe walking the same route every day to get home wasn't ideal. But neither was the sight you had to witness as you walked across the parking lot in front of your house. The car parked in it. The only car.

In it was him. Your neighbour. That freak. That beautiful fucking freak. A man clambered out, shoving the passenger door open while blood ran from his nose and mouth. His neck marked with ligatures of varying pink and red hues. Pushing past the small crowd forming he briskly stumbled away, the crowd shifting as people left and newcomers joined.

You know you should've kept walking, walking the same damn route, but you didn't. What's that's saying? Curiosity killed the cat. Well, consider yourself the cat.

Making your way over to the edge of the crowd, you stood watching, keeping at least a meter distance so as not to draw attention. His head turned to the window, the side one facing you. His mouth dropped open to reveal a blue stained tongue. Freak. You grimaced. Yet your eyes were unable to remove themselves from the sight in front of you. Your legs were stuck, glued to the cement, your brain ordered them to move, but no movement was made.

Your eyes focused on the scene in front of you, snapping you out of your disassociation, the shuffling of the crowd parting ways. Boys rode off on their bikes, women clutched their bags whispering with one another, and hooker resembling teenagers scoffed sauntering off, losing interest at the dark-haired man in the car.

The very one slumped in the car seat, heavily battered and bloodied as well as unconscious.

You turned to leave, taking two steps before swivelling back on your heels. You stood considering for a few moments the result of what your actions may cause. If the butterfly affect would, in fact, impact what was to happen due to your next decision. Well fuck that, you don't really care about the result of your actions, at least not since you moved here.

Pulling the drivers side door open, you leaned in, tentatively you waved your hand across his face. Was he awake yet? No.

Fuck. Well then. Poking him didn't work either. Grabbing his shoulders, you leaned closer.

"Martin. Martin. Wake up, Martin!"

He grumbled, regaining consciousness, but also the from the pain of his injuries. Pulling him up from the seat, a task proven easier than expected due to his thin build. It suited him. In his own way. Wrapping his arm around your shoulder, you hauled him the short walk to your house beside his. The height difference made it more a half drag on his part. You spoke in hopes of providing some comfort.

"Nearly there, Martin. Nearly home."

You didn't really like the freak, but you weren't a heartless human. His reptiles had escaped to your garden more times than he'd like to take responsibility for, and so had his toy helicopter. Resulting in more hostile neighbourly conversations between the both of you than you'd have liked, considering the majority of them happened at 2am, when he was normally awake.

Unlocking the front door, you manoeuvred Martin's flopping body onto a kitchen chair, dragging it across the floor with a loud screech that jolted him awake.

"What are you doing?"

"Calm down. I'm just trying to help. Now sit still."

You didn't mind the silence, wetting some paper towels with rubbing alcohol as you gently wiped the blood and grime off his pasty white skin. The kitchen was filled by the low hum of your broken refrigerator and the hisses coming from Martin's mouth with every swipe against his skin. His eyes followed you, throwing away the dirty tissues and packing up the first aid kit, placing it in the cupboard before making your way back to the sink.

Stood across from the seated Martin he looked up, shifting in his seat with a pink hue dusted over his cheeks.

"Guess I should go then."

"Umm yeah, let me see you out."

You both walk to the door in silence until his voice scratches out down the hallway.

"You wouldn't happen to have seen my snake have you...I left the side window open again...you know-uhm the one across from your garden."

"Again! Seriously! How many times have I told you. I don't want to see that creepy snake in my garden. What if it bites me -"

"Hey! He's friendly."

"No, i doubt that. It's probably a freak. Like you!"

He angered at your words harshly shoving you against the hallways narrow walls. There was barely any space for two people to walk, so being pinned left you feeling even more trapped. It was like the temperature had increased ten fold, your eyes widened at the close proximity between the two of you. He breath was hot and heavy against the side of your face, daring you to keep talking, but you knew better, rather content with glaring at him.

His fingers dug past the material of your faux fur coat while yours held tightly on his forearms. The silence seemed to drag on with the two of you looking into each others eyes. But it was more than that, both looking past each others iris, the pupils and the nerves, looking into each others souls.

And then he kissed you. Just like that.

His lips were on yours, and you could taste the distinctive artificial flavoured candy only just overpowered by the cigarette he must've smoked earlier.

It was suffocating and comforting. Yet freeing and ferocious. As if you had finally given into a craving after so long, like you were sinning after years of celibacy.

Your hands grappled at each other clothes, needing to remove the thick confines you were in. Various articles of clothing littered the hallway, creating a breadcrumb trail to your bedroom. His hands dug into your hair, only deepening the kiss once you were straddling his lap on your bed. Oxygen wasn't a necessity in this moment. It was the taste of each other that you both were surviving off of.

Discarding your bra, Martin removed his shirt, leaving him in his boxers. He positioned you on all fours facing away. Cold, long fingers dragged your panties off you, and you were bare to him, no feeling of shame, just need, as your arch deepened. His hand caressed the path of your spine where he lay gentle kisses, kneeling behind you, he played with the softness of your thighs and hips. The silent room was now filled by your whines of pleasure.

His mouth was on you, exploring every part of you, tasting and savouring you like it was his last meal. His tongue traced from your leaking hole down to your clit where his lips suckled more noises from you. He brought two fingers to your cunt, spreading your folds as his tongue moved through the mess of your juices and his spit, only spreading it down your inner thighs. You pressed back against Martin's face, moaning out in pleasure but his hands hooked around your thighs holding you in place while his mouth worked on you.

You were so close. "Fuck yes just like that, I'm gonna fucking come don't stop- don't you dare fucking stop."

Your words only spurred Martin on, his thumb prodded at your hole wetting it with a mix of fluids before unexpectedly moving it to your tighter hole above. The action drawing out even louder noises from you. He smiled at that and you could feel the change of expression against your pussy. "Come for me."

You didn't need asking twice, clenching the bedsheets you whined into them, your cunt gushing around Martin's tongue and drenching the bottom half of his face. Small droplets ran down his chest as you fell flat against the mattress, angling your head to see a smiling Martin.

God, what a freak.

But you thought it with a small smile this time.

One that was covered by Martin's lips once again, his body embraced yours. You tugged at his boxers, and he pulled them off barely separating from you before leaning his head back to groan up at the ceiling. Your hand wrapped tightly around his cock. It fit comfortably in your hand, what lacked in girth was made up by length.

He thrust into your hand, jerking to feel more stimulation from you, which you were sure to provide. You were comfortably laying with his cock in your hand, his hand moving to separate your thighs, leaving you open to him. His hand coming down to explore your pussy while your hand continued working on him. Entering two of his fingers you arched at the movements, your own fingers were not of the same length or thickness. Moaning out, Martin was kneeling beside you, your hand jerking him off as his fingers worked in and out of you, his thumb occasionally rubbing against your clit.

It was art. The type the Greeks would've painted. The type found in the Renaissance era.

Pure pleasure and carnal desire.

You felt your release nearing, but when Martin twitched in your hand, he removed his fingers and moved. You huffed in annoyance about to speak your mind, but his hands grabbed your body, quickly flipping you over, the same way he did to the men in that car.

Pulling your hips up and pushing your back down, you were in the same arched position as before. He breathed heavily, almost hesitant, but the teasing movement of your ass was almost too much for him to bear. Holding his cock he spat onto your cunt as he pushed the leaking tip through your folds, only further adding to the mess of your pussy.

The tightness wrapped around his cock, almost pushing him out, but the further he entered, the more your cunt sucked him in.

The two of you made noises that bounced off the walls and were certainly heard from outside your window, neither you could give less of a fuck though. His hand clutched your hair while the other guided your hips back against him with each thrust. There was nothing gentle about his movements but that only made you crave more, the feeling of his cock entering you roughly with each movement had you releasing more liquid along the length of him. It collected around the base of his cock making his movements pass easier.

He hauled you up by your hair, his front pressed against your back, his lips against your ear, licking and nipping at the soft flesh. Bringing your hands up to his head, you pulled him into a kiss. Your fingers ran through his slightly greasy hair, the black soft locks tightly wrapped around your fingers while his tongue explored your mouth.

The change of position only prompted his dick to reach even deeper inside of you. Your moans increased while his hands moved around your body, first around your throat, then down to your tits where he roughly grabbed at them and pulled at your nipples, finally coming down to your clit where his fingers rubbed harshly, spreading more of your wetness around.

That was your breaking point. Your hands reached for anything to hold onto, which was Martin's forearm. Your sharp nails dug harshly into his skin, marking it with red crescent shapes, and his dick pummeled harder into you. The both of you were nearing release. Whispering into your ear, he urged you,

"Come for me. Come around my cock, wanna feel you fuckin' tighten your pussy 'round me."

And so you did.

With a few more thrusts into you, he bottomed out as you threw your head back, moaning Martians name. You doubt he would realise with how much noise it was said with.

But he did. He relished in it.

He'd go so far to believe its what made him cum as quick as he did after you. Still deep in you his cock released his cum, with near animalistic groans and arms that embraced you tightly, willing to never let go.

The thick liquid collected inside you and as his now soft dick was pulled out you could feel it drip out between your thighs, his face nuzzled into the side of your neck as the two of your softly caught your breath, relishinng in the sex of pent up tension. The sheets now soiled by your choices. The result of angry words said in the flurry of an argument.

The consequence of fucking your freak neighbour.

[houseofripley]

Hotel Hell - Part Two

Rhea Ripley x Fem!Reader

Part One Pinterest

WARNINGS: SMUT, 18+, Fighting, Shoving, Oral Sex, Vaginal Fingering, MAKEUP SEX

WORD COUNT: 3,812

A/N: omg i am sorry this took me years to finish, life has been busy but it should calm down soon. i got such a good request the other day and i haven't gotten it off my mind so i will start that tmrw if i have time. also i proofread this at 2am so please ignore any mistakes lol

“The Brutalization Chamber? You want to know what The Brutalization Chamber is?” The Irish man laughed out, his eyebrows raising once you turned your gaze towards him. 

An expression of curiosity displayed on your face as you repeated the name of the supposed ‘chamber’. It was obvious to the man that you wanted to know more.

The man began making his way down the stairs, “No offense sweetheart…but I don’t really think this is the place for a girl li-” He tried to speak before being cut off.

What the hell is that supposed to mean?

“I don’t really care what you think sir, I want you to show me what's down there.” You chirped out, following the male down the flight of stairs, your hand hovering over your aching ribs.

“Well shit, if you insist,” The guy chuckled out, “Feisty, she’ll like you.” He muttered under his breath as he opened the door. 

She’ll like you…was he talking about the same ‘she’ you had spent your night with? The same woman who just got done unleashing pure cruelty onto you? The same woman who disappeared into this exact building moments ago?

“Name’s Finn by the way,” He mentioned, “It’s just us, the big boss is probably around here somewhere as well.” Finn spoke as you scanned the room looking for ‘the big boss’.

Grimy was the only way to portray the room. Rope lights scattered across the ceiling, some were dim while others flickered. There were freezing concrete walls with cracks littered all over. A red neon sign displaying the letters ‘TBC’. A blood stained ring sat taking up a quarter of the room. Various pieces of gym equipment and punching bags were compressed into a room off to the side. 

“So…just a gym?” You questioned the man, there was no sign of Rhea.

“Nah, it’s a little more than just a gym love…think of it as a fight club. A fight club with a fuck ton of money involved.” Finn stated leading into a room the size of a walk-in closet, the room seemingly being a pathetic excuse of a nurses office. 

You leaned against the door frame while Finn babbled on as he started unpacking his bag, “People come to us in desperate need for money. They’re entered into our roster, put in the ring and bet on. If they win their match they get fifty percent of all bets placed. Bunch of sick wealthy men love wasting their fortune on this shit.”

“Don’t you think this is just a tad bit illegal?” You chuckled, sending a small wave of pain to your ribs.

“Eh I don’t worry about that too often,” Finn shrugged, digging around his duffle. “Rhea’s not too worried about the legalities when there's this much money involved, she can pay her way out of damn near anything.”

Rhea.

Despite your pain you perked up at the mention of Rhea’s name although you stayed silent.

“Rhea would like you, you’re quiet but there's just something about you, like there’s a fire inside you.” Finn mentioned, pointing at you. “I would introduce you to her but earlier this afternoon one of her top guys lost her like seven thousand. She stormed off to god knows where. Another one of her main guys has a big match in about half an hour. Going up against some new kid we’ve never seen so I’m sure she’s busy worrying her ass off.”

You heard a scoff echo from the main room as footsteps approached. “Jesus fucking christ Finn! Do you ever shut your goddamn mouth?” You heard Rhea sarcastically laugh trying to cover her anger.

You slowly turned to face Rhea, examining her tensed jaw and narrowed eyes. Reality had finally washed over you. The weight of Rhea’s actions flooded into your brain. You couldn’t figure out if you felt more betrayal or anger in the moment.

“Ah! Rhea mate!” Finn exclaimed, trying to divert from Rhea’s critiques. “I was just telling this young lady how much you’d like her…I never caught her name though.” 

Your face turned to the ground as you tried to mutter out your name. “We’ve met.” Rhea butted in, her voice was fully flat-devoid of any sign of emotion. That’s when the regret hit you. 

You shouldn't have come here.

“I should leave…it seems you guys have a busy night.” You muttered quietly. Rhea took a firm grasp on your forearm, “That can wait, let’s go have a chat.” Rhea said as her head motioned towards what you assumed to be her office.

“No, I-I can come back another time, I really don’t want to be a bother.” You barely managed to stutter out while Rhea’s middle and pointer finger of her opposite hand guided your chin up, forcing you to look at her. “I said let’s go have a chat.” Rhea commanded, her grip on your arm tightening. 

You reluctantly followed the woman as she dragged you in the direction of her office. You knew you were in for it big time.

“You are a fucking insane bitch! What could have possibly made you think it was okay to fucking show up to this place?!” Rhea lashed out at you the moment the latches of her door clicked together. She dropped your arm before shoving you towards the other side of the room. You had been lucky enough to catch your balance as you were just inches away from barreling into the concrete walls.

“I just wanted to learn more! I wanted to figure you out Rhea! Can you blame me for wanting to figure out why you’re so angry and cruel every time I see you?” You said loudly, your voice filled with hurt.

“That doesn't give you the goddamn right to follow me to where I work! You don’t fucking get it, these people I work with are dangerous and I don’t want you getting caught up in this bullshit!” Rhea retorted out as her breaths began picking up speed.

“What makes you think I’m so incompetent that I’m incapable of being around danger?! You put me in danger nearly every fucking time I see you! ” Your hands flew around as you yelled at the woman, tears accumulating in your eyes. 

Rhea began inching towards you, a look of irritation covering her face. “I don’t fucking put you in danger!”

“Yes you fucking do! You have no idea how many bruises you’ve left me with. The other month you choked me till I passed out, yet you didn’t stop fucking me to check if I was okay! For fucks sake Rhea, an hour ago you left me bleeding and collapsed to the floor!!” All hell had broken loose between the two of you as your tears started escaping from you.

“You told me you could take it! I don’t get why you’re bitching and moaning all of the sudden.” Rhea continued arguing.

Your fist crashed down onto Rhea’s nearby desk, “I can take it rough, but you can’t keep disappearing after being borderline torturous! You’re so damn immature!!” Your screaming matched showed no signs of stopping anytime soon.

“I’m immature? You’re the one that followed me to my job and is throwing a tantrum right now!” Rhea’s voice thundered around the room. 

“You don’t get it Rhea! I’m a fucking person and you dont give a shit about me! Why don’t you fucking care?!” You yelled through broken sobs as you started unleashing your sadness and anger onto Rhea, pushing and beating on her chest. 

Rhea made no attempt to stop you. She made no moves, just allowing you to inflict your pain onto her. 

Once your hands had dropped to your sides in exhaustion and your breaths became heavier as you tried calming yourself down Rhea quietly mumbled, “I do care…”

“But you don’t…” You looked up at her with wide eyes, lifting your shirt. You exposed your aching torso displaying your cut up skin, dried blood pooled around your laceration and the letters of Rhea’s name carved into your skin. “Someone who cares doesn't do this and run away.” You quietly said, your voice strained from the screaming match.

The regret in her eyes was apparent as she darted her eyes away from you. The realization she had gone too far had hit her hard, feeling as if she was being crashed into by an eighteen-wheeler. 

Her vulnerability was short lived, Rhea quickly repressed her display of emotion, replacing it with her regular cold and emotionless stare. She had to put on her tough guy attitude. It was her only safety blanket. Emotions are for the weak, Rhea could never be weak.

“You get worse every time I see you, something has to change Rhea…” You breathed out, trying to articulate your speech as you lowered your shirt back down. “If you can’t fix this behavior I’m done.” 

“You know you don’t mean that.” Rhea sighed as she ran her hand through her black hair. She didn’t want to lose you but she could never admit that. “I need to think about…everything. Just give me a some t-” 

Rhea was cut off by a deep voice from outside the door. “Ten minutes till the bell Rhea.” Rhea rolled her eyes and made her way to the door, “Just give me some fucking time Damian! And go get a roll of gauze from Finn. Quickly.” Rhea demanded after opening the door just a sliver. 

You clenched your jaw as you sensed Rhea’s levels of anger were once again rising. The last thing you wanted was to end up back at square one with her. You couldn’t handle another argument with her. Not tonight at least. 

The pair of you stood in silence as you waited for the man to return. Once he had arrived he opened the door, handing Rhea the roll of fabric. His eyes curiously examining you through the crack in the door. 

“I’ll be out in a minute…” Rhea aggressively muttered before closing the door. She mumbled your name under her breath before walking to her desk.

 “You’re lucky Finn showed up early, only God knows what could have happened to you if one of the other guys showed up before him.” Rhea grunted as she unlocked a drawer and began rummaging through the mess inside. 

What is it about her?

“Why such a dark line of work? What made you choose this of all things?” You questioned, you were terrified to set her off but on the other hand you wanted to push for answers from her. It was the only way to get your foot into the door of her life.

Rhea stumbled her way towards you avoiding eye contact, a tube of antibacterial gel in her hand as she shrugged. “Not something you choose. You’re born into it and can’t escape it, you just have to accept it and make the best out of it.” She mumbled while she lifted your shirt up. 

Rhea applied a small glob of the antibacterial gel to her finger while she lowered herself to her knees, becoming face to face with your shredded skin. The woman began dabbing the gel onto your skin causing  you to let out a small hiss from the pain.

Once she finished applying all of the gel she wiped the residue from her fingers onto her pant leg and grabbed the roll of gauze. Rhea cleared her throat before speaking up, “Just stay in here for a while, I can take you home after this match.”

“I’m perfectly capable of walking home by myself, Rhea.” You stated, watching Rhea carefully wrap the gauze around your waist.

“I’m walking you home and that’s final.” Rhea stood her ground, “Seriously though, just stay in here. I’ll be back.”

You weren’t planning on fighting about this with her, deciding to keep your mouth shut you let her take the win. “Fine, whatever.” You gave in as Rhea tied a knot in the gauze to hold it in place. 

“Shouldn’t be more than twenty minutes.” Was all Rhea had said as she stood up. Nothing else left her lips as she exited the room. 

No apology?

You groaned as you sat down in Rhea’s large chair. You blankly stared at the wall for several minutes before your mind started to wander. Exploring anything that popped into your head. Places, things, people, Rhea. 

If you were being honest with yourself you were doubting the woman's ability to change her ways. You assumed she would most likely be this way her whole life, although you prayed she had it in herself to change. She had the potential to be great if she would put her pride aside.

It wasn't long until the cheers of the crowd on the opposite side of the door had started drowning out your thoughts. 

You wanted to catch a glimpse of the madness. You stood up from the large chair, your feet scuffing the ground as you strolled to the door

You cracked the door open, taking a peek of the ring surrounded by a flock of rowdy men that were yelling. The large man you made eye contact with earlier was in the ring brutalizing a much smaller guy who couldn’t even be older than twenty-five. He was putting on one hell of a fight but it was clear he stood no chance.

Rhea was the only woman there, she was stood right against the ring watching intensely. She had caught your image in the corner of her eyes. Her face turned in your direction, she tilted her head as if she was asking you what the hell you were doing.

You mouthed the word sorry to her before quickly closing the door. 

Fifteen excruciatingly boring minutes had passed, the cheers had dispersed into muffled conversations. Rhea had finally arrived back in her office. She seemed content which you enjoyed. 

“You ready to go?” Rhea asked, you answered with a simple nod.

As the two of you made your way out of the building Rhea exchanged goodbyes with some of the strange men.

The entire walk was silent, the both of you reflecting on the weird night you had been through together. The silence wasn’t uncomfortable, it was almost peaceful. Having Rhea in your presence when she was somewhat calm was pleasant. You wanted to hold onto this peacefulness for the rest of your life.

It took you by surprise when Rhea insisted on taking you directly to your door instead of just dropping you off in the front of the large building and ditching. 

“You didn’t need to take me all the way up here.” You quietly mumbled as you unlocked the door to your apartment. “Lot’s of bad people around this time of night.” Rhea muttered as your door swung open. 

You turned around to face the woman, her eyes peering over your head, scanning the entry of your apartment. “There’s bad people around all times of the day. I’m used to it.” You said quietly, her eyes returning to you.

An awkward silence filled the air as the both of you gazed upon each other. Rhea began rubbing her neck, “Uh…I should go. I’m gonna go.” She feebly stated before turning away from you, quickly walking down the hall. She had stormed off before you could even speak up.

Still no apology?

—

Multiple days had passed. Rhea had made no contact yet. You spent a concerning amount of time just staring at Rhea’s contact in your phone, debating if you should press the call button. Yet you couldn’t bring yourself to do it.

She’d call if she cared enough.

It felt as if life had paused, your days seemed empty. The busy streets of New York City felt devoid of any livelihood. The live music that took place at work sounded muffled. The flavor of your favorite foods had been stripped away. Once colorful flowers sold down at the street market now sat dull.

Days just painfully repeated. 

Tonight you had the night off, your only plans were to stare out the window of your bedroom and pray for a text from Rhea. 

You sat criss-cross at the edge of your bed twiddling your thumbs, your mind seemingly empty as you stared into the windows of the skyscraper across the street when the sound of a knock echoed down your short hall.

Groaning in annoyance as you got up you began making your way to the door, chewing the inside of your cheek as your feet shuffled below you. 

You weren't sure who you were expecting to be in the hall but it completely caught you by surprise when you swung the door open to see the dark haired woman waiting for you.

Without a word Rhea launched herself onto your lips, the force causing you to be pushed back a few inches.

Jesus Christ.

This felt like more than just a kiss, it had an intense amount of passion intertwined into it. Rhea’s hands gripped onto your waist as you backed into the apartment, her foot kicking the door behind her closed.

She had never kissed you in this way before. Before tonight you had only received measly pecks while the two of you had sex. It was never emotional.

Rhea slowly pulled away from your lips, both of your breaths were heavy as she finally spoke, “Fuck, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Finally.

“God, I’ve treated you like shit and I have been such a dick. It’s been the only thing on my mind. You don’t deserve that, It’s not okay.” Rhea began rambling as you stared into each other's eyes. “I get it if you never want to see me again but please just give me a chance, I’ll do whatever it takes. I’ll get my temperament under control, I’ll go to therapy, whatever you say I will do it.”

“Rhea-” You whispered, trying to calm her down but she continued her rant. 

“I want to know you, more than just your body. I wanna know everything, The good, the bad, the boring…I wanna know what pisses you off and what makes you cry. I don’t know why I kept you a stranger for so long and I’m sorry for that.”

You led Rhea into your small living room as you listened to her rambling. You took a seat in your chaiser lounge and ushered her to sit in front of you as her speech continued on. “I don’t know why I ran away…I think it's cause I didn't want to hurt you. But I did hurt you, so badly. I don’t want to run away anymore, I had no right to ever hurt you the way I did, just for me to leave you alone right after. It’s the worst thing I’ve ever done and I’ll never forgive myself for it. It’s just that I-”

“Rhea!” You slightly raised your voice causing Rhea to finally close her mouth. You leaned closer to her, placing a quick and gentle kiss on her lips. “You’re okay, don’t worry.” You comforted the woman, softly chuckling.

“I didn’t interrupt your night did I?” Rhea asked, slightly nervous as she scootched up closer to you. You shook your head no as a smile creeped on your face.

It didn’t take long for the two of you to end up in a heated makeout session, your hands roaming over one another's clothing. Rhea groaned your name against your lips before pulling back just a few centimeters. 

“Please let me show you how sorry I am.” She practically pleaded, her eyes full of desperation, “Yes please” you quietly giggled, your eyes adoring the woman's face. The second Rhea heard the word yes echo from your mouth her lips went straight for your neck, causing a whimper to escape from you. 

Rhea took her time as she kissed upon your neck, carefully leaving soft love bites every so often, marking the skin a flushed pink shade. Her lips only leaving your skin as she pulled off your sweater before she began peckering kisses against your collarbones.

Her hands crept behind your back, unclasping your bra and pulling it from your chest. Your fingers grazed upon Rhea’s tense shoulders as she left a path of kisses down your torso.

As Rhea’s face reached the base of your stomach, her eyes fixated on your face as if she was asking for your blessing. You gave her a nod before lifting your hips into the air, allowing her to slide your sweatpants off your legs. 

 “Rhea, please,” You whined out while Rhea’s fingers toyed with the seam of your panties. Rhea grinned to herself as she slowly shed the final layer of clothing off your body. 

The woman wasted no time connecting her mouth to your heat, causing you to let out a breathy moan. “So fucking beautiful…” Rhea praised against your skin.

Truthfully, her tongue felt like heaven as it worked its way around your wetness. Rhea didn't want to rush you. This wasn't for her, she just wanted to make sure you knew she had the ability in her to change for the better.

Your breaths picked up their pace as Rhea’s hand inched its way closer to your core. Her ring and middle finger traced a circle around the perimeter of your entrance before slowly being pushed into you.

“Shit,” You whined out, your back arching as both Rhea’s tongue and digits worked their magic on you. Although you enjoyed roughhousing with the woman, you undoubtedly appreciated the amount of care Rhea was putting into you.

You were a whimpering mess under Rhea’s touch, and she loved every small sound that escaped from your mouth.

“More! Please, I can take it!” You begged for more of her. Rhea obliged, sliding her pointer finger into your tightness causing you to roll your eyes back as her fingers filled your insides.

“That’s it baby,” Rhea preached quietly when your hips began to rock against her fingers, your moans filling the room. “Such a good girl for me.” She added on before her tongue got back to sailing over your clit, her fingers picking up their pace.

Your legs tightened around Rhea’s head as your orgasm quickly approached. “C’mon sweet girl, let go.” Rhea’s encouraging words were muffled, your walls clenched around her curling fingers. 

“Fuck Rhea!” You squealed out as the knot that filled your stomach released onto Rhea’s fingers. Your hips twitched into the air as the fingers inside of you helped you ride out your climax. 

Rhea was grinning ear-to-ear as she slowly pulled her fingers out of your hole. She groaned in pleasure, licking her fingers clean. 

She soon brought her face to meet yours, her plumped lips giving your jaw a kiss before whispering in your ear.

“How’s that for an apology, hm?”

Chapter Taglist: @babybatlover @whiteleoqueen @luvvleah @lovingperson1

[ivystoryweaver]

With You part 4

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Summary: The truth is out. Will you see Jake again? Is Moon Knight back in business?

Pairings: Jake Lockley x reader, (Marc Spector x reader, Steven Grant x reader). Gender neutral reader. No use of Y/N. Reader is engaged to Marc and Steven.

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings/notables: Angst, comfort, references to alcoholism and recovery, cursing, a little bit of voice-raising I guess, some arguing, some touching/grabbing but no one is getting hurt i promise. Let me know if I missed a warning. Probably inaccurate DID, based on the show.

Dividers by saradika

PREVIOUSLY, on “With You”...

The two of you held one another in the middle of your drafty little kitchen, the shared answers between you only raising more questions.

“I think you should talk to Steven,” you suggested gently, “if you feel ready.”

Resting his forehead against yours, (Marc) rubbed your back soothingly. “Yeah. And maybe...maybe Jake too.”

It occurred to you, over the next two nights, that perhaps you were a heavy sleeper. 

Marc and Steven had a little heart-to-heart about “that bloody stupid pigeon” - Steven’s words, obviously. Steven made it to class and to his university library shifts. Marc’s two years of hard work and sobriety paid off, because he was now equipped with a wonderful support system - you, Steven, a close friend of his, and he even called his old sponsor. 

Then he attended a meeting (his idea). It was also his idea for Steven to keep his normal schedule. Marc felt guilty enough for getting Steven fired from the museum those years ago. (That, plus all the secrets.) So he changed his mind about hiding out in the flat with you. Routine was key. Routine and communication. 

You were so proud of your guys, but there were still a couple of glaring issues: Jake and the bloody stupid pigeon. 

Three nights after you first met Jake, you were determined to talk to him again. Marc had tried, Steven had tried, but Jake was used to operating completely alone. You got the feeling that this alter rarely did one damn thing he didn’t want to do. 

So you set three of the loudest, most blaring alarm sounds to go off on your phone - one at 2am, 3am and 4. You warned Marc and Steven, of course. In the event that Jake fell asleep, one of them would most likely wake up. Or Jake might not even front that night. 

But in case he did, you wanted to be awake for it. The alarm wasn’t for him anyway. It was because you had apparently slept through Jake’s entire existence, and you would never get to know him if things went on this way. You had to try.

So, tonight you made the effort to sleep in actual pajamas - black satin ones - a gift from Steven, instead of one of Marc’s comfy undershirts. The outfit wasn’t particularly revealing - you weren’t trying to seduce anyone, you just wanted to look a little more presentable than the worried, frantic mess from the first night you met Jake. 

Exhaustion overtook you easily and you did fall into a deep sleep, only to be jolted awake by your blaring 2am alarm, which scared the shit out of you. This could possibly be your worst idea ever. But you quickly realized, while trying to calm the hammering of your heart, that your fiancé was not in bed with you. 

Sitting up and pushing off the bed, you trudged to the bathroom to splash cold water on your face before checking the apartment for signs of life. Nothing. 

So you waited. 

You were alllmost back to sleep when he arrived - through the damn window, again. 

Sitting up, you flipped on the bedside lamp, just as he pulled his flat cap from his head and raked his fingers through his lustrous, chocolate waves. Sporting what you were starting to believe was his signature look - this alter carried himself with a self-assurance you had never seen from your fiancé. 

His expensive but worn leather jacket stopped at his waist, meeting well-fitting, sleek black pants. The same crisp, white shirt and dark tie, along with black, leather driving gloves completed his style. These weren’t clothes off a rack - they were tailored to fit him perfectly. He had chosen his look for a purpose...you assumed. 

“Jake?” you softly greeted, easing off the bed. 

Warm brown eyes stared at you, flashing as if momentarily caught off guard, before he pulled at the fingers of his gloves, just like he had done the first night.

“Go back to bed, cariño,” he implored, his voice rich, alluring, and much deeper than Steven’s. “It’s late, you should sleep,” he added, forcing himself to look away from the black satin draping itself over your body. 

“I don’t respond well to orders,” you nonchalantly replied, easing toward him. “I was waiting for you.”

Clenching both of his removed gloves in one hand, he stopped and turned to glare at you. “Why?”

“Why not?” you shrugged. “It’s the middle of the night. I was worried.”

He scoffed. Dropping his gloves, he peeled off his leather jacket, turning his back to you. “Well, don’t. I can take care of myself.”

“Apparently not,” you shot back, reaching down to gather his discarded hat, gloves and jacket, domestically picking up after him, as if it were completely natural to you. “Not since Marc woke up in an alley the other night, in the Moon Knight suit.”

Jake was not sure what was more infuriating at the moment: you touching his shit, or you running interference for Marc. 

“I get it - can’t let anything upset Marc,” he growled, jerking his clothing out of your arms, a little more dramatically than he intended. You didn’t even flinch. “Believe me, muñeca(o), I’ve been dealing with him my whole life.”

You rolled your eyes, bristling in Marc’s defense. “Okay, first of all, I am not your doll.” You matched his glare with your hands on your hips, “and secondly, you can fuck right off.”

“Happily,” he sarcastically agreed. “You’re the one who ambushed me.”

True. You were in rare form tonight. However...

“Oh. I didn’t realize walking around my own bedroom was considered an ambush,” you fired back. “I was worried about you, Jake!”

“You were worried about him,” he sneered, dropping the pile of clothes onto the bed. “And I get that. You two are getting married, or whatever. Just let me do my job in peace.”

“And what is your job, exactly? Being Khonshu’s slave? Almost getting yourself killed?”

Dragging a hand down his face, he groaned.

“I fucked up, okay? It’s never happened before.” Angrily jerking off his tie, he silently cursed himself for coming in the window again, without making sure you were asleep. Although part of him knew, deep down, that he was dying to see you. And now this. Now you knew what had happened to Marc, that night, in the alley. 

“Jake, I can’t control what you do,” you admitted, your voice softening. You rarely ever raised your voice, let alone argued like this with Marc or Steven. But Jake just got under your skin. The heat in your cheeks and the heaving of your chest was definitely all worry. Nothing else, not at all...right?

“I’m not trying to tell you what to do,” you started again, boldly reaching for the tie clenched in his strong fist, which he held tightly to. “Your choices are yours. I respect that.”

He waited for a moment. “But?” He prodded. 

“But,” you added, swallowing hard, “You could have seriously been hurt. Khonshu is not obviously not protecting you. He doesn’t care what happens to you.”

“No one cares what happens to me,” he snapped, jerking away from you, tossing his tie carelessly. “That’s how it works. I protect them. That’s my job. That’s my only job.” 

“Bullshit,” you challenged, following him closely. “I care what happens to you, Jake. I care!” Reaching out, you desperately took hold of his forearm. “I’ve been waiting three nights in a row to see you again. I set my alarm just to wake up and see you. I’m yelling at you, Jake, and I never yell, ever. You’re driving me crazy!”

“Is that right?” He lowly growled, grabbing your arm - the one connected to him - and walking you back toward the wall. If you wanted his attention, you damn sure had it now. “You’ve known me for three days and I’m driving you crazy?”

All the air rushed out of you as one grip became two. Jake grasped your shoulders and pressed your back up against the wall, bending his knees slightly to descend to your height. “I’ve been sleeping next to you for years, mi amor. So believe me when I say that I know how you feel.”

“Jake, I...” you struggled to breathe normally as his dark eyes burned into yours, the grip of his fingers unyielding, yet somehow tender. “I didn’t know,” you finally uttered. “I didn’t know you were there, all this time. We don’t even know each other.” 

“I do know you,” he confessed, his voice softening as his thick fingers loosened their grip. “I know you. Marc and Steven too. So I can protect you.”

“But who will protect you?” you whispered, placing your palms on his chest to brace yourself, the heat of his firm body seeping through his dress shirt.

His searing gaze faltered, eyes dropping, his jaw clenching in determination. “Doesn’t matter. I have to do this for them. You have no idea how many enemies Marc has. Nothing else can happen to him.”

“What do you mean?” You asked him, your voice softening. “Doesn’t being an avatar make more enemies? Marc was trying to leave all that behind.”

Shaking his head, Jake turned his face away, sighing loudly. Why was he even doing this with you? As foreign as a personal conversation felt to him, he couldn’t deny how good it felt to be looked after - to be worried about, to be touched. 

“He can’t - leave it behind. It’s not safe,” Jake finally explained, his head still turned to the side, avoiding your pleading gaze. “We’re not safe without Khonshu.”

You wanted to protest, but in all honestly, how would you know? 

“Jake,” you whispered, pushing your fingers up the definition of his chest, over the length of his neck to trace the sharp edge of his jaw. God, he was beautiful. So like the men you loved, yet completely his own, complicated person. You knew next to nothing about him. He could have his own life, his own family - someone of his own to come home to.

...but why, then, had he spent years sleeping next to you? And why were you drawn to him like this - following him, touching him, shouting...your emotions wild and unpredictable?

“Jake,” you began again, your breath faltering as his eyes met yours.

He couldn’t take it - being this close to you. “What?” he rasped, his voice softly betraying the stern pinch of his dark eyebrows. “What do you want from me?”

Releasing your shoulders, finally, he took hold of your hips, pulling you flush against his chest. “Tell me, cariño,” he whispered darkly. “Tell me what you want.”

“I want -” you hardly recognized the plea in your own voice, you fingers still dancing over the angles of his handsome face. 

Jake’s eyebrows shot up inquisitively, the corner of his mouth curling slightly. You realized, then, that he seemed pleased to see you falter - to see you speechless. 

Well, fuck that. 

“I want to know you,” you finally admitted, returning the press of your fingers to his chest, your gaze dropping. “I want to know who you are, and if...if you have anyone. Someone - a family. And I want Marc and Steven to know you.”

Ah, he should have known. Releasing his grip on your hips, he pulled away, nodding as he headed toward the edge of the bed. Pushing his discarded pile of clothes aside, he sat down on the edge, resting his elbows on his knees. 

“I don’t know what you were thinking,” he finally responded, “but...this is my only home.” His eyes met yours from across the room. “You’re my only family.”

Your whole world stopped.

All at once, you were both devastated and thrilled. Jake had no one else to answer to in his life - he could be a family with you and Marc and Steven, if he was willing. Even if he didn’t want to be involved with you romantically, you wanted him to be a part of your life. But what kind of lonely existence had he led? Out at night, the avatar of a god, bringing vengeance to the vilest of men...protecting the system, but getting nothing in return? 

But the two of you couldn’t solve everything in one night. You would try, once more, to take what was in front of you, one step at a time. 

“I am,” you finally answered, crossing the room to ease down on the edge of the bed beside him. “I am your family. And this is your home. You don’t have to hide from us, Jake, or sneak in through windows.”

“I’m not...hiding,” he attempted, eyes downcast as his shoulder rubbed up against yours. “I just don’t want to take any more of their life. Of yours.”

“They’re trying to talk to you, you know. You don’t have to shut them out.”

He said your name then, and it almost felt strange to hear him say it. Different, but...good. 

He waited until you turned your head to look at him. “What I have...the way we are,” He tapped a finger to his temple, “in here...it’s not like a phone call. It doesn’t always work like that. It’s not always a sure thing.”

Shit. You violated the my-man-has-DID rules somehow. “I-I’m sorry, Jake, you’re right. It’s not my place to tell you how to...I don’t know, interact with your alters. I’m really sorry.”

Scowling, he paused, making you wonder if you really offended him. 

“Are you always this damn infuriating?” He cracked a smile, letting you know it was all right. 

“Actually, I’m usually a very calm and reasonable person,” you chuckled, leaning against his arm and giving him a little shove. “You just bring it out in me.”

Oh, he liked the idea of getting under your skin. He liked it a lot. 

“Really?” He teased. “You mean you don’t scare the shit out them in the middle of the night? Follow them around? Drive them crazy...wearing that?” He threw your words back at you. 

What a little shit. 

“No,” you steadily answered him, your gaze open and honest. “I guess I’m just here to drive you crazy.” 

@stormydaysxx laaundromat @rivalriotrenegade @wordacadabra this--is--music @i-still-dont-like-your-face​

[pigeonp0st]

Lena Luthor x Reader #3

Summary: Lena breaks up with Reader to keep her safe from Lex. Reader hatches a plan to get rid of him that goes terribly wrong, and naturally, torture follows. This mostly takes place after she’s found again.

Warnings:

Angst,torture, depression, trauma, childhood trauma

Notes:

Hey! I’m going about writing differently now. Everything I write from here on out will most likely be straight from the tumblr drafts and fairly quick. Something I decide to do in a random sitting (unless it’s paid for). Fair warning that this isn’t that, this is just something I worked on ages ago and didn’t publish. I did NO SPELLING CHECKS and remember writing at 2am, so warning number 2

———————

Lena loathed the DEO in that moment. She loathed Alex, and she loathed Supergirl , and she loathed every damn agent in the building so that she didn’t have to loathe herself instead. It’s not enough, there was still a small part of her that she couldn’t ignore, a part of her that screamed; ‘you should have held on. You should have been there’

She knows she should have been there. She knows she failed you before anyone else did. She knows. But she’s trying now and she doesn’t know how to get it to matter to the world. Trying won’t save you, and trying hasn’t led you back to her.

Trying has only led you there, far from Lena, laying somewhere unknown with a body and a heart too worn. Though, Lena imagines, that’s probably not a new feeling for you. She trembles with the image of Lex mocking her on video, holding a gun to your head, she trembles and thinks, I’ll kill him. I’ll kill him.

Then, miraculously;

“Found her!” Winn shouts loudly, raising his Supergirl action figure in victory, and Lena, CEO, multibillionaire, crumbles in relief in front of dozens of agents in the middle of the DEO.

—-

When you wake up Lena feels her heart stop.

She wanted to kiss you, hold you. She wanted to be the type of person that stayed. She wanted to be the type of person worth staying for.

She wanted to believe the both of you would be okay, and she wanted to hold your face and tell you that. That you’d be okay. She wanted more than anything in that moment to be the type of person that said the right thing. That did the right thing.

She wasn’t. She wasn’t any of the people she wanted to be. Your eyes met hers, full of sorrow, and human and hurt, and she wasn’t. She wasn’t because she was scared, and because she was human also. She wasn’t—so she leaves.

Now, as she’s gripping herself in the hallways of the DEO, struggling against the weight of what feels like worlds on her shoudlers, choking on breaths that should have been being shared with you, she’s filled with so much self contempt it could fuel the whole government. Whoever said that “It’s better to have loved and loss, than to have never loved at all”, has never met the two of you and has never loved this desperately.

Loving you made her feel just as much as losing you had, and is it worth it? Maybe, but It’s certainly not better to be feeling this than not ever feeling it. Can’t those things coexist? Can’t it be better for her to never love, but can’t loving also be a choice she’d make despite all the pain?

Can’t you love the things that will destroy us in the end? Doesn’t she always?

She should go back in. She should go back in and ask for forgiveness, but the fear of ruining things further, of the both of you hurting each other further, prevents her from trying to fix things.

When she broke up with you she had just wanted to protect you from Lex. Losing you like that would have nothing compared to—

Lena shivers, shakes her head, and clutches onto herself more tightly with trembling fingers.

“You’re hyperventilating,” Alex says from where she’s leaning against the wall beside Lena. Her eyes are watchful, careful, but Lena feels them like daggers.

She straightens, forces out a; “wow, you really are an amazing analyzer, detective,” and nearly gets a smirk for her troubles—but Alex is too soft, too caring to give her that. She moves towards her, ever the big sister, but Supergirl rushes in first.

“Lena,” Supergirl—Kara, Kara, Lena thinks, and often starts to forget, except when Kara looks at her like this—breathes out.

Lena steps back from them both, the humanity in the room tears her apart, reminds her of her lack of, and destroys her. “You have to…to warn people when you do that…super speed thing,” Lena grits out, cutting Kara off before she can even begin to try and be…be good. She gestures towards the room with shaky hands and begins to try and compose herself lHow long was she awake while I was asleep?”

Kara and Alex look at each other. Say nothing. “Guys—”

“She woke up two hours ago,” Alex says, at the same time Kara says; “you were wiped out—didn’t even hear the nurses, of course we couldn’t just wake you up”

Two hours, and she was asleep. Lena goes cold instantly. She remembers hearing Lex had you, remembers it like one remembers the worst moment of their life; both intimately and not at all. She remembers hearing Supergirl had you—that you were breathing , but people only say that when someone is very not okay, and Lena remembers the way adrenaline had rushed through her. She had felt both alive and utterly useless through it, and it sticks to her even now.

Alive, but asleep, never the person she needs to be to protect you. How alone have you felt because of her? How scared?

“Lena,” Kara starts again, “Lena, she wanted you to sleep— ”

“Go in there,” Alex cuts her off, gets a very annoyed look for it, because they both can’t seem to help cutting each other off today. “You want to show her she’s not alone, that she’s safe? I promise you that the only way she’ll feel that is with you there.”

Kara nods, suddenly straightening and transforming into Supergirl just like that, just in the stance. “Hero complexes will serve nothing except separation and loneliness. You taught me that. Stronger together, Lena.”

Wanting to save you had left you alone, and yes, alone to Lena meant away from Lex, but he’s not the only scary thing in this world, and she should have known that he’d never forget how to destroy her. To leave you alone, Lena thinks, was the worst thing she could have done.

While you were away Lena had to confront herself. Had to realize that so far, every good thing in her life has come with a cost, has led to ruin, and the threat of Lex…it had just seemed to her like the time had come. Like it was her only option. To sacrifice, to sacrifice and hurt.

If Lex had won by separating the two of you, then he had one like that. In her mind, Lena had already been destroyed, of course she imagined that to be the end of it, that he wouldn’t touch you. She’d rather hurt by pushing you away than you dying. Even the thought—

God, she’s so tired of being a coward. To being so scared of losing you that she’s willing to destroy you both.

Kara and Alex hating what she’s done in the unspoken way that they do hurts even more in a way Lena’s used to, because it hurts like regret. Their stances have turned from concerned and loving, to protective heroes. She should have never left you alone. Not when she was scared of Lex, and not now. She gives both Kara and Alex a firm nod and tries to walk past to get into the room. To make things right.

Kara stops her with a hand on her shoulder. She drops it instantly when Lena turns towards her. Ever the fragile hero, always afraid of her own hands for the strength they hold. “Before that…” Kara coughs awkwardly, “Um…we need you to understand her injuries…and what happened.”

—-

When Lena walks into the room, it’s not like you thought she would. She’s not the fragile human curled up in a chair, or the terrified women fleeing your medical room. She’s angry with rage and a whirlwind of feelings, caught in a tornado of emotion. She’s large in the way she’s always been, and yet it has never left you feeling so small.

You sink back into your hospital bed, pull the covers to your chin, and watch her.

“You went after him?” Lena hisses out, so lowly, so sharply, that she might as well have cut the words into your skin for the way that it dig into you. “Everything I’ve ever done is to protect you, and you just decided to throw it all away like it means nothing? Do you have any idea—”

“You were protecting yourself!”

Lena stops. She was pacing, shaking with emotion, but she stops dead in her tracks at the sound of your voice. You yell it, and yet it’s still somehow silent. Your throat is ruined, a testament to the cruelty of Lex, and the evidence of that and more is written on your skin. You’re covered in injuries. Your brokenness has never been more visible, you think, and it should leave you feeling fragile, and it does, god it does, but right now it gives you power.

Power over Lena, who looks at you like her life hangs in the palm of her hand.

“You think I’m stupid, that I don’t know that every fiber of your being is laced with fear?” You whisper now, hand on your throbbing throat. “You left me for you, and I went after Lex for me.” Its venom. Venom, and anger, and all of the thing you know Lena takes In stride. The thing she strives on.

It hangs in the air for a second. Then Lena, beautiful Lena, kneels by the side of your bed. CEO, one of the most powerful people in this city; on her knees for you. She doesn’t look invigorated, doesn’t looked fueled by anger, just looks sad with regrets.

“I did it for me,” Lena agrees, so soft, so not like them; not like her family. “I did it for you, too. Of course I did it for you, and maybe it was a terrible thing to do—led by my trauma talking to me—but don’t lay there and deny I wasn’t thinking of you,” she breathes, then pauses, eyes tracing your busted lips, bruised face, bruised neck. Her jaw trembles and her lips part, she looks as if she wants to say more, but her eyes are haunted by the home she grew up in.

As if reading your mind Lena whispers, “they haunt me. It’s as if I can never let go. I’m so sick of it. I’m so sick of it.” She closes her eyes with furrowed brows, as if not looking at you will prevent the shake in her voice. “I’m so sorry, Y/N. For them. For them now, for them back then, and for them in the future—if you still want to be in my life, you have to know I can’t escape them. Even when they’re not there they’re there. It…god, it makes me sick.”

When Lena raises her hands and grips herself, digging her fingers into her skin like she wants to pull the trauma and memories out of herself, like she wants to get rid of them, something in you breaks. Breaks because your arms are raw and aching, and it wasn’t Lex. Breaks because you know so intimately what it’s like to face reality and find it so frustratingly unchangeable. To want so much, and for it to mean nothing is the most devastating thing.

To be so large, and so small.

You’ve been crying, and Lena doesn’t notices until a sob falls from your lips. You’ve been trying to hold it in, but when she startles up at it and looks at you with that same wanting, like you’re her heart walking and she’d give anything to take your hurt, the sobs break through like a dam. They break through and it hurts because there is no part of you left unbroken.

When you sob it disturbs your broken ribs, disturbs the bruises covering your torso, rips at your tarnished vocal cords, and has the machines in the room beeping so loud it alerts the nurses.

—-

Lena doesn’t even have time to stand before the nurses rush in and pull the blanket off of you. There’s no words to describe the shift that happens in side of her when she sees the extent of your injuries.

It’s like something both breaks and rebuilds in her, and then breaks again, paralyzing her. Then, she sees a nurse heading towards you with a syringe and it activates her.

“Don’t fucking touch her,” Lena says, or thinks she says. She can’t recognize the venom in her voice, doesn’t feel apart of her body.

She’s moving in between the nurse and you, but your sobs begin to bring her back to reality.

“She needs to be put under, she’s hurting herself—”

Lena doesn’t pay attention to her, just sees Alex and Supergirl enter the room. Sees the way Alex shakes her head and nods to the corner of the room, and follows in suit while every fiber of her being says to do otherwise.

It kills her that she can’t protect you. Can’t protect you from the nurses that you try to pull away from, can’t protect you from the hurt on your skin, or in your heart, couldn’t protect you from— she thinks of Lex. Lex when he was her big, smart older brother that she admired more than anyone in the world.

She thinks of the way he’d give her a cheeky roll of his eyes behind Lillian’s back after a small verbal lashing. Thinks of every chess game, every hide n seek game, every reassuring grin. You’re smarter than they know Lena, he’d say, and she’d beam, not noticing the progressive darkness in his eyes as he said it.

Her eyes don’t leave you as the nurses put you down again. She thinks; I’ll kill him. In her peripheral she knows Kara is watching the floor, and feels Alex watching her. When the nurses cover you back up and they both turn towards you, Lena knows it was out of respect for you. She’s grateful for it—somewhere in her thunder of emotions she’s thankful for them, but also feels a bit of anger towards them.

This is why they kept her from seeing you when you were brought in?

“Why doesn’t she have a hospital gown?” Lena asks in a whisper.

“She took it off, said it hurt when the nurses moved it, and that it was sticking to her. Constricting her,” Kara explains, she sighs, shakes her head, and then turns towards Lena as Supergirl. With a fire in her eyes.

The same one in Lena as she allows herself to ask the very question she wanted to run from hours ago. “Where’s Lex?”

“No.” It’s both Supergirl and Alex.

“Alive then? Okay,” Lena starts towards the door. “If you’re here, he’s here. I’ll find him easily enough.”

Supergirl, familiarly, stands in her ways. Eyes sympathetic next to Alex’s hardness. “Where are you when you’re with them?” Alex asks from behind her. When you let them guide every bad decision you make, she hears.

Lena stops. Thinks about control, about gods, about leaving you to wake up alone again, thinks about murder, both in her blood and not, thinks about Lex with a gun to your head, with fists, and kicks, and a maniac smile, thinks about her dad in the same way—standing over Lex while Lillian gripped Lena back. She thinks of cycles, thinks of protection and all the ways it’s possible, all the ways she’s capable, more capable then him.

Smarter, Lena remembers Lillian saying casually. Always smarter than.

Better than, Kara will say.

The good one, Alex will joke.

My hero, you’d grin. Lena feels herself split. Starts forward again.

Kara whispers now, “Heroes don’t kill, Lena.”

Alex, “it’s both the best and most terrible thing about us.”

Us.

Lena wants to yell, wants to crumble, wants to curl by your side, wants to kill Lex with her bare hands, wants to erase the Luthor history from her mind, from her body, wants to erase it from yours even more. Wants it so desperately, so acutely it hurts. Sadness fills the room, suffocates them all.

Kara is watching you again, Alex keeps glancing back, they’re both unconcerned about Lena now. Full faith in her to be who they claim she is. Lena returns to the seat by your bed and allows herself to be that person.

“Whatever cell he’s in, I’m building it,” Lena whispers, thinking of the cuffs she’ll put on him, wondering if she can somehow slow down his mind.

Alex nods, running her hands down her face. The past couple hours have completely exhausted her in a way Lena’s not used to seeing from her. Alex cares so much about you, and it shouldn’t surprise Lena but It does. “We’re thinking about sending him to the phantom zone.”

Here, Lena is more surprised. They must know that’s a death sentence. Lena glances at Supergirl, she’s still watching you but she’s clearly listening, her eyes have turned hard. They aren’t underestimating Lex. They clearly know the responsibility that’ll bear on them if he escapes again.

Lena feels another bought of gratitude towards them as she takes your hand, and trusts them to handle the person she trusts no one to handle.

——

When you wake up the second time it’s because nurses are dapping you with wet cloths, clearly trying to clean you. They apologize profusely, say they thought the drugs would keep you down longer, and offer to finish the cleaning after you’ve gotten more pain killers.

Your eyes dart around rapidly, chest constricting in anxiety, and then you see Lena. She’s standing by the door, clearly trying to keep out of the nurses way. She’s not full of rage and untouchable in that way, and she’s not fragile, she’s strong.

Her eyes are hard, but not cold. They’re determined, and loving, and they’re your strength too. You suck in a shaky breath, whisper; “thank you. Later might be an option”, as you try to focus on Lena and not the thought of the nurses hands on you turning into Lex’s violent ones.

When they all shuffle out Lena quietly returns to the spot by your bed. This Lena somehow makes you feel more fragile than angry, furious Lena had, because in the place of your defensiveness you’re left to feel your guilt.

“I’m…I’m not weak, Lena.” It feels stupid to claim now as you lay in a hospital bed feeling nothing but. You clench your jaw. Lena’s hand reaches up and takes your chin, forcing you to meet her eyes. She’s not gentle, certainly not rough, but her firmness gives you the power to continue. She’s the stable ground that helps you find your footing.

You find it. Meet her gaze unblinking. “I’m not Supergirl, I’m not you, I’m not Alex, or Jon, or Winn, or James, or Kelly, or— or Lex…I’m not capable in the particular ways you guys are, but I am capable.”

Lena’s eyes fall to your throat. You grip her wrist, the one holding your face, and her eyes meet yours apologetically. “I know,” she says, so softly, so quietly. “You being here is the evidence of it, isn’t it?”

You nod, but you aren’t done. “I’m not sure what Supergirl told you. Clearly she told you I went after Lex, and in a way that’s true, but more so I wanted him to come after me,” you pause. Lena is watching you with furrowed eyes, clearly trying to piece together what you’re explaining before you finish.

Her lips part after just another moment. She’s figured it out you realize, feeling a bit of pride because of it. Pride because she has faith in you, pride because she‘s so incredibly quick and you have had the privilege to know her so acutely. “All of this…was your plan?” Lena asks, sounding both shocked and not.

You wince, brushing aside her hand so you can look down, adverting your gaze. “Well…not all of it.” Memories flash through your mind. “I thought he’d keep me captive, not…” you left out a frustrated breath, angry, so angry at yourself for not being able to speak about it. Speak about him.

“It was a game to him, of course. He’d torture me, send you a video to torture you. He’d get you chasing him. He’s always liked the thrill.” Your eyes stay on Lena’s fists. Watch as they clench so tightly to her side that they shake. “I knew he loved messing with you, and was partly counting on it, not like that but— but maybe just having me wouldn’t have been enough, maybe it was good he did what he did—got so high off of it his guard lowered.”

“Don’t say that,” Lena pleads. You startle up at the sound of her trembling voice doing everything not to cry.

You breathe in; your ribs hurt. You breathe out; they hurt again. Lena shakes her head at herself, frustrated and biting her lip. She’s having a battle with composure and losing.

“Kara told me how you stole his nanotech and used it to immobilize him. That the tech that was missing from my lab last week was found with the stuff he confiscated from you. That you hacked his computer with my prototype to send her the location to his headquarters underground,” Lena rushes out, “I didn’t know you planned to get taken to his HQ, to steal his nanotech, didn’t know that anyone besides me and the DEO knew what he was working on.”

It’s a quick summary of the things you’ve done, leaving out the weeks of planning, leaving out the struggles of actually setting the plan in motion when the shifting variables shifted in a way you weren’t prepared for. It should leave you proud, but when you think of what you managed all you remember is pain and struggle.

“You stopped Lex like you planned. So many people are saved because of you. An unfathomable amount, and yet,”she says. And yet, you think, heart fluttering because you know Lena will say the very thought that kills you to think of, but the thought that can’t escape you anyways. “What…what you did was monumental, and thank you, but god, I so wish you hadn’t,” Lena breathes. “He gone, and yet he has never been so present. Perhaps you felt the effects of him through me before, but you know now what it’s like to have him really present, always right over your shoulder, and that…I would’ve given the world for otherwise.”

It’s exactly the same thoughts you have had. To hear it from Lena, someone you admire and trust so much, someone you believe to be good with every piece of you, someone you’d follow everywhere—it’s like a medicine for guilt.

“What I said before…about doing what I did for me,” Lena shakes her head, ever understanding, like she doesn’t need you to finish. You do though. “I did it for me because I wanted desperately for you to still be mine, and getting rid of Lex was the avenue for that,” you admit. “I didn’t want him to plague you anymore either.”

You hesitate. Memories of Lena pacing at night—startling awake, watching the news with the grimness of someone attending a funeral—memories of Lena’s affectedness come to you. Her humaneness at hearing Lex escaped again, and in her humanity in her vulnerability.

“I want to take responsibility, so I don’t want to say I did it for you, but what you said earlier made me realize everything is a bit of both. I did it for me, I did it for you too.”

Lena laughs. Laughs. It shocks you, causes you to jump and stop looking at your hand, causes you to meet her gaze again. “Ow,” you growl, unamused, because Lena is still laughing. She’s covering her face and has the decency to look apologetic.

Your ribs hurt from the startle but even you can’t help but be confusedly amused.

“I want to hate,” Lena starts, mirth in her voice, “that you did the thing I wanted you to do least in the world, and you got exactly what you wanted out of it. You captured lex, and in a way captured me back too.”

“Oh,” you perk up, smiling up at Lena innocently. “Guess I’m the brains now, brawn.”

Lena’s eyes narrow at you. “That insinuates that you were ever the brawn.”

Back to glaring. Lena lets out another huff of laughter and brushes your hair back, away from a cut on your forehead. Her eyes are so soft, so full of warmth, and love that you could cry. Would cry, perhaps, if it wouldn’t hurt every part of your body.

Instead you grin, because that’s what humans are taught to do instead of cry, and ask, gently—feeling like a shaky child; “does that mean you’re my girlfriend again?”

—-

Lena’s eyes widen as she realizes what she implied, and as you own up to it so hesitantly, so childlike, like Lena could ever think of pushing you away after everything. Her words, not for the first time today, betray her. All she can do is nod.

Your responding grin is heroin to Lena. You smile so wide the cut on your lip breaks open again and starts bleeding, but you pay it no mind. Lena does. She smiles back, albeit more gently, and squishes your cheeks together to prevent the split widening.

You pout in her hands. Lena’s heart flutters. She keeps getting hit randomly with momentous emotion, and she’s hit again with it now. The softness of this moment feels like seeing a rainbow after months of storms.

You here, alive, looking at Lena with so much love in your eyes, so much understanding. It feels like a fantasy. Feels like a lucid dream, a dream she’d choose, over, and over again, until the end of time.

Lena leans in and kisses you—not on the lips, they are cut and bruised. She kisses you on the space just below your eye. A spot, one of the few spots, clear of visible injury. She takes pleasure in the way you flush like it’s the first time. She always did, will always do. “I love you,” Lena whispers, promising herself that even if there are days you won’t believe her, there will never be a day you don’t hear it.

It’s you, and it’s her, and it’s the mountains of history and trauma you two are fighting against. Lena likes the both of your odds. Loves winning just as much.

You’ll beat Lex she knows. There will be a day soon where he stops haunting the two of you. Where he’s not even a thought. When that time comes you’ll have won the war, but for now she’ll take the pride of winning every battle in stride, for now, in the now; she’ll cherish every moment, the many moments, when trauma leaves the room and love consumes it.

“Lena Luthor,” you breathe. You breathe. “My love, my hero.”

[gallusrostromegalus]

I've always said that kubota did orihime soooooooo dirty >:( she literally has god powers and they get diminished so harshly... I've always viewed her power as her having the ability to Reject phenomena. In canon she rejects the fact that people are injured. What would happen if she rejected the fact that someone was alive? That someone was in her way? Reject the injustices that led to her and her friends' world being turned upside down. Anyway I love that your hime has the spine she deserves and I'm so excited to be completely normal about aeiwam

Some Important facts about Orihime from canon:

Orihime is the #3 student in her entire (fairly large) high school. Girl Ain't Stupid- if anything, the fact that she's wildly unorthodox in her projects and STILL pulls those kinds of grades and test scores suggests that her teachers are grading her like that because her weird-ass approaches to assignments demonstrate a thorough understanding of the material, so she may actually be smarter than Uryuu, the #1 student who gives me very strong "I'm very good at taking tests and telling teachers what they want to hear, so I can pull good grades even if I have no clue what the subject is" Vibes.

Orihime cooks weird damn food, and enjoys it. She also has strange ideas about what's cute, exceptionally brightly colored clothes relative to everyone else, and does things like get lost following dragonflies for hours on end. Screams sensory processing Weirdness to me. Maybe I'm projecting a bit here, but Sensory processing disorders come with sensory euphoria too- I get to enjoy a huge variety of strange foods and the sound of rain gives me physical joy.

Orihime's best friends* are: -The School's Self-affected "weird boy who might be a delinquent or possibly just insane" guy -A Butch Jock With Anger Issues -The Crafts Club president who has So Much Gender Happening, and also sort-of grew up in a cult -The Giant, scary-looking guy who keeps smuggling small animals into school. -A Genuine sociopath whose family probably has Yakuza Connections -An extremely powerful supernatural being who is like five times her age -Keigo. This is not the friend group of a "Normal"

Taken together, these points form a constellation of THIS GIRL GOT AUTISM. LIKE SO MUCH. LEVEL 999 AUTISM MAGE. She's full of strange joy and magnificently weird and experiencing reality four steps to the left of everyone else AND SHE IS SO, SO SMART.

So in the fic, when she sees Ichigo freaking out because Rukia has been Kidnapped back to Soul Society on Bullshit criminal charges, Orihime does what every autistic person I know does, and immediately begins drafting a Solution.

Namely She begins drafting an extraction plan. She gets slightly in over her head with details about what data they need, how much and what kind of resistance they'd be facing etc. etc. until she realizes she needs some concrete answers and, without regard to social conventions like "time" and "Personal space", more or less kicks in the door to Urahara's shop at 2AM, marches directly into his bedroom and starts interrogating him about the civil services in soul society, yes it's weird you sleep naked with your cat sir but I'm not here to pass judgment I'm here to get answers you can put pants on later.

After the resounding success of their operation in Soul Society, the hardest part when Ulquiorra comes to kidnap her and gives her the completely insane circumstances of "you will be invisible and go through walls for 12 hours, prepare yourself." is not vibrating with the absolute mania of the chance to go to Los Noches and FUCK. SHIT. UP.

[moodybluezzz]

Deidara NSFW Alphabet (18+)

[I've never done one of these before and proofread at 2am so hopefully this isn't a dumpster fire. Warning for NSFW content under the cut.]

[Word count: ≈1.3k]

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Deidara gets very sweet and mellow after sex. In fact, it seems like that's the only time he doesn't have an explosive amount of energy. He'll wipe the sweat from his forehead and ask you if you're okay with a satisfied smile. If you're not completely wiped out he'll cuddle and talk to you until you fall asleep with your head resting on his chest. He's not gonna want to budge so cleanup usually waits until the morning after. He prefers admiring the mess you made together anyway.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Deidara's favorite part of his own body is, unsurprisingly, his hands. He knows he's skilled with them because of his art, and having two extra mouths is a blessing in bed that no one else has. His favorite part of his partner is their face. He loves admiring your features and expressions as he toys with you.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Deidara tends to finish quickly and usually pulls out so he can cum on your body, whether it's your back, thighs, face, or wherever else he can make a mess of. “My best masterpiece yet~”

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Deidara doesn't give a damn about getting walked in on and secretly likes showing off what's his. (Plus, seeing the priceless reactions of the rest of the Akatsuki is just a bonus.)

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Deidara is barely experienced, if at all. He's young and too caught up in the Akatsuki to have dabbled in relationships very much. Luckily his natural confidence and dexterity make up for the inexperience.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

I don't see Deidara as the type to do gymnastics on the regular. His favorite position is probably missionary, since he gets to see your reactions and admire you up close. If he's feeling dirty the worst he'll do is doggy style so he can pull your hair and be a little more dominant.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Deidara is absolutely the type of person you can joke with, or hold a conversation with, during sex. Although he takes his relationship and intimacy seriously, he likes to have fun so it's never too intense.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Deidara is just about as hairy as any average guy, but it's not very noticeable because of his light, blonde hair.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Deidara isn't the most romantic guy ever, but when he's alone with you his intimate side is on full display. This is especially clear in how careful he is not to hurt you. He balances showing you that he cares and keeping the mood light so you can both have fun.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Deidara jerks off a lot, usually before bed or when he's bored. And yes, he uses the mouths on his hands for extra pleasure. (Can you blame him?) He'll imagine his partner’s pretty face going down on him as he licks along his own length.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Sorry but Deidara just isn't that kinky, unless you count him using his hand-mouths on you. He's not a full-blown exhibitionist, but he does also enjoy the thrill of fucking in places he could get caught.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

In his room at the Akatsuki base, and it doesn't matter whether anyone else is home or not. The place may be cluttered with art supplies but he makes room for you quick. He also once tried having some fun with you on the back of his clay bird, out in the open night sky. It was a little scary at first, but you had to admit it was exciting.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Deidara likes someone who can match his energy - seeing you have fun or marvel at his latest work is enough for him. He's also a sucker for a bit of praise and some clever pickup lines about art and explosions.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Sorry sadists, the man said himself that he isn't into BDSM. He absolutely won't do anything that seriously hurts you or leaves marks on your body, aside from some light hickeys. He sees it as ruining a masterpiece.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Deidara is the KING of giving head - he was blessed with three mouths and you'd best believe he's gonna use them. He'll eat you out while the mouths on his hands lick along your sensitive inner thighs, or kiss you passionately while he reaches down and lets his other mouths go to town.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Deidara's movements are quick and shallow. He just prefers it rough and fast. His last few thrusts are always a bit slower as he takes in how you look as you finish, though.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Deidara will never turn down a quickie, even if you just wrapped up a mission and you have to sneak away and find a hidden spot to have some fun. He'll probably end up having more quickies than longer sessions when he's busy with missions, but that doesn't mean he won't take his time pleasing you when you're back at the base.

R = Risk (are they open to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Deidara is probably the most risky out of everyone in the Akatsuki. He can't help but get off on the thrill of fucking in “public” places or when the rest of the team is around, and he doesn't stress much about getting caught either. Unfortunately Deidara is also not the most discreet and Tobi has definitely stumbled upon some unholy things while looking for him.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Deidara could go for more than one round if he really wanted to, but most of the time he's satisfied with one round and just wants to relax afterward.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Doesn't own any toys of his own but definitely isn't opposed to using them with you.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

The lovable asshole that he is, Deidara teases pretty often, mostly verbally or with his tongues. However, he gives in pretty quickly and gets right to the fun part.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Deidara is very vocal and not ashamed about it whatsoever. He doesn't hold back on moaning and loves talking dirty as he fucks you. Some of the Akatsuki have definitely gotten pissed at him for keeping them up at night.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Might be down for a threesome with someone else in the Akatsuki? 😳

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

About average with more length than girth, plus a faint trail of blonde hair leading down to it ;)

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Deidara's sex drive is high, but not to an unbearable extent. He's young and full of passion, but he equally enjoys spending quality time with his partner as well, so most of your time together is spent pretty innocently.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Deidara is pretty full of energy and never falls asleep immediately after sex. Sometimes he'll stay up for a short while to spend more time with you, and other times he'll jump up and run to his desk, getting straight to work on some new art project that he thought up.

[ala-baguette]

Could you tell us more about Kingsleys fondness and protectiveness of Harry. Love u to bits xxxx

What’s that?  A Kingsley Shacklebolt meta, you say?  Don’t mind if I do!

A relatively common and much-loved comment I get from some of my readers is that they never gave Kingsley much of a second thought before reading Knowing Where to Look.  Let’s change that, because I need company in over-thinking about random side characters.  Plus, I find Kingsley Shacklebolt so damn cool and other people should too!  For such a small character who is mostly just in the background throughout canon, I am always so impressed by the volumes of information one can glean from his tiny one sentence lines.  So, let’s start by looking at a few of these moments.

I’ll begin with the first time we meet him in Order of the Phoenix where he is part of the Advance Guard.  I remember just falling in love with Kingsley right from the first time I read this chapter at roughly 2am the night the book was released.  A few notable lines I present for consideration:

“‘Yeah, I see what you mean, Remus […]  He looks exactly like, James.’”

“‘A surprising number of people volunteered to come and get you,’ said Lupin as though he had read Harry’s mind; the corners of his mouth twitched slightly.”

“‘Remus says you’re a good flier,’ said Kingsley Shacklebolt in his deep voice.  ‘He’s excellent,’ said Lupin […]”

“Kingsley Shacklebolt and Sturgis Podmore were examining the microwave and Hestia Jones was laughing at a potato peeler […]”

“‘I’m just telling the boy the plan,’ growled Moody. ‘Our job’s to deliver him safely to headquarters, and if we die in the attempt—’   ‘No one’s going to die,’ said Kingsley Shacklebolt in his deep, calming voice.”

Information I infer from this first encounter:

Kingsley is highly trusted by Dumbledore and the rest of the Order despite having only been a member for a month or so.  (I’m fairly certain he was not in the Order during the first war.)

Kingsley knew James on a personal level.  He’s on a first-name basis, he remembers his appearance well, and Remus would have had no other reason to comment that Harry looked like him if he did not.

Kingsley is curious about Harry—likely in part secondary to Harry’s fame, but also, I suspect, on a more personal level (whether his apparent past relationship with James or his current one with Remus and Sirius).

Remus talks about Harry when Harry’s not around (I could probably write a whole meta on this sad and sweet observation, but I shall resist and stick to the topic at hand).  We’ll come back to this.

He’s pure-blood or at least was raised with minimal exposure to Muggle technology.

He’s calm and level-headed and not afraid to call out melodrama, though he’ll do so patiently, respectfully, and gently. 

We have several smaller encounters going forward in OotP that I also find telling:

“[Kingsley and Mr. Weasley] were talking to each other as though they hardly knew each other. […] ‘Here,’ said Kingsley brusquely to Mr. Weasley, shoving a sheaf of parchment into his hand, ‘I need as much information as possible on flying Muggle vehicles sighted in the last twelve months.  We’ve received information that Black might still be using his old motorcycle.’  Kinglsey tipped Harry an enormous wink and added, in a whisper, ‘Give him the magazine, he might find it interesting.’  Then he said in normal tones, ‘And don’t take too long, Weasley, the delay on that firelegs report held up our investigation for a month.’”

“‘Molly, I’ll be late, I’m covering for Tonks, but Kingsley might be dropping in for dinner—'”

Harry caught the sound of his own name.  Kingsley Shacklebolt’s deep voice was audible even over the surrounding chatter.  ‘—why Dumbledore didn’t make Potter a prefect?” said Kingsley.  ‘He’ll have had his reasons,’ replied Lupin.  ‘But it would’ve shown confidence in him.  It’s what I’d’ve done,’ persisted Kingsley.  ‘’specially with the Daily Prophet having a go at him every few days…’

“Kingsley had run forward to continue Sirius’s duel with Bellatrix.”

“‘Alastor Moody, Nymphadora Tonks, Kingsley Shacklebolt, and Remus Lupin were all at headquarters [with Sirius] when [Snape] made contact.’”

My take-aways:

Kingsley has a good poker-face and can act a part that is required of him.

Kingsley is kind and considerate.  He goes out of his way to send Sirius a copy of the Quibbler with an article featuring Sirius/Stubby Boardman, for no other reason than to make Sirius smile in a time when Sirius had precious little to smile about.  Kingsley, in other words, is a big ol’ sweetie.

Kingsley drops in for dinner and any little festivities that happen at headquarters or with the Weasleys a few times throughout the series and is clearly welcomed any time, even when not truly on Order business.  Along with this, I speculate he doesn’t have much by way of family or close personal connections outside of his friends at the Order.

Even when he has only just met Harry, Kingsley is already concerned for his feelings (not just his physical safety) when Dumbledore doesn’t make Harry a prefect.  He is observant enough to notice that Harry is out of sorts and disappointed, which no other character particularly seems to notice.  He’s already attuned to Harry’s moods even then.

Also from this same moment, we see that Kingsley is one of the few characters who doesn’t seem to entirely blindly assume everything Dumbledore does is best.  He doubts Dumbledore’s judgment when he doesn’t make Harry a prefect. What else might he doubt?

Kingsley is brave and loyal.  He jumps in to duel with the most ruthless Death Eater present who just killed his friend.  Later, he does it again with Voldemort who he believes has just killed Harry.

Moody, Tonks, Remus, Sirius, and Kingsley are often described together.  From their interactions, I see these five having a particular bond, beyond that of simply colleagues.  They’re friends. What do all of Kingsley’s friends have in common?  (1) They all have affection for Harry they show in one form or another throughout the series.  (2) They all die.  I’ll let that sit for a moment—we’ll come back to it.

Now we come to The Half Blood Prince and Deathly Hallows:

“‘I’m not getting rid of Kingsley Shacklebolt, if that’s what you’re suggesting!’ said the Prime Minister hotly.  ‘He’s highly efficient, gets through twice the work as the rest of them—’”

“‘All right,’ [Uncle Vernon] said, stopping in front of Harry yet again. ‘All right, let’s say, for the sake of argument, we accept this protection.  I still don’t see why we can’t have that Kingsley bloke.’  Harry managed not to roll his eyes, but with difficulty.  This question had also been addressed half a dozen times.  ‘As I’ve told you,’ he said through gritted teeth, ‘Kingsley is protecting the Mug—I mean, your Prime Minister.’  ‘Exactly— he’s the best!’ said Uncle Vernon, pointing at the blank television screen.  The Dursleys had spotted Kingsley on the news, walking along discreetly behind the Muggle Prime Minister as he visited a hospital.  This, and the fact that Kingsley had mastered the knack of dressing like a Muggle, not to mention a certain reassuring something in his slow, deep voice, had caused the Dursleys to take to Kingsley in a way that they had certainly not done with any other wizard, although it was true that they had never seen him with his earring in.”

“‘Miss Granger with Kingsley, again by thestral—’ Hermione looked reassured as she answered Kingsley’s smile.

“Kingsley showed no pleasure at the sight of any of them.  Over Hermione’s shoulder, Harry saw him raise his wand and point it at Lupin’s chest.  ‘The last words Albus Dumbledore spoke to the pair of us?’  ‘Harry is the best hope we have.  Trust him,’ said Lupin calmly.  […] ‘All right, all right!’ said Kingsley, stowing his wand back beneath his cloak.  ‘But someone betrayed us!  They knew, they knew it was tonight!’   ‘So it seems,’ replied Lupin, ‘but apparently they did not realize that there would be seven Harrys.’  ‘Small comfort!’ snarled Kingsley.

“‘Now they’ve put a Taboo on [Voldemort’s name], anyone who says it is trackable—quick-and-easy way to find Order members!  They nearly got Kingsley—'  ‘You’re kidding?’  ‘Yeah, a bunch of Death Eaters cornered him, Bill said, but he fought his way out.  He’s on the run now, just like us.’

“‘I’d like to appeal to all our listeners to emulate their example, perhaps casting a protective charm over any Muggle dwellings in your street.  Many lives could be saved if such simple measures are taken.’  ‘And what would you say, Royal, to those listeners who reply that in these dangerous times, it should be Wizards first?’ asked Lee.  ‘I’d say that it’s one short step from Wizards first to Purebloods first, and then to Death Eaters,’ replied Kingsley.  ‘We’re all human, aren’t we?  Every human life is worth the same, and worth saving.’

“[…] Kingsley had stepped forward on the raised platform to address those who had remained behind [to take part in the Battle of Hogwarts].  ‘We’ve only got half an hour until midnight, so we need to act fast!  A battle plan has been agreed between the teachers of Hogwarts and the Order of the Phoenix.’

“Voldemort was now dueling McGonagall, Slughorn, and Kingsley all at once.”

“One shivering second of silence, the shock of the moment suspended: and then the tumult broke around Harry as the screams and the cheers and the roars of the watchers rent the air.  The fierce new sun dazzled the windows as they thundered toward him, and the first to reach him were Ron and Hermione, and it was their arms that were wrapped around him, their incomprehensible shouts that deafened him.  Then Ginny, Neville, and Luna were there, and then all the Weasleys and Hagrid, and Kingsley and McGonagall and Flitwick and Sprout, and Harry could not hear a word that anyone was shouting, nor tell whose hands were seizing him, pulling him, trying to hug some part of him […]”

Observations:

Kingsley is likeable and has a skill for garnering trust.  Both the Prime Minister and Uncle Vernon trust him despite having a general dislike for wizard-kind.

Kingsley is clever and adaptable and a good actor.  We see fascination with a microwave in OotP suggesting he had minimal exposure to the Muggle world, but by DH, he is already able to play the part of a Muggle, dress like them, and conform to their society, something that the likes of Arthur Weasley, who has obsessively studied Muggles for years, never manages.  He even knows enough to take out his earing (which he otherwise always seems to wear) to better appeal to the Dursleys conservative views.

A small speculation to which we can never know an answer but… Given that he knew Harry was listening, is it possible Kingsley’s choice of security question for Remus was intentionally chosen to offer Harry a little assurance that they had faith in him?

Kingsley is constantly described as calm and cool throughout all sorts of strife in the series, be he is not entirely unflappable.  After the Battle of the Seven Potters, the man is visibly livid, and I love it!  At no other time do we see so many exclamation marks in his speech.  He has suddenly been forced to face the possibility that one of his friends betrayed them, and he is not okay!  Even after this speech, he is totally flustered: he laughs derisively at Hermione’s naivety in an uncharacteristically impatient way; he seems panicked when he hears Voldemort had gone after Harry directly; he’s pacing the yard in a way that reminds Harry of Uncle Vernon as they’re waiting for the others to come back; he nearly comes to blows when Arthur arrives and is trying to get past him to see George… Can someone just please give the man a hug?  (Obviously, this is a trait I’ve exploited in KwtL.  Betrayal by a friend is definitely a sore spot for him.) 

The Trio sees Kingsley as untouchable.  Hermione’s relieved to be paired with him when they leave the Dursley’s house (and to not have to ride a broom).  Harry’s shocked to hear of him in hiding in much the same way they are.  They’re thrilled when they hear him speaking on the radio.  They have unwavering awe and respect for Kingsley.

Again, I speculate that Kingsley doesn’t have a romantic partner or children.  When Kingsley goes on the run, there is no mention of family which would have been a big concern if he had one. 

Kingsley has a strong sense of morality and a drive to stand up for those weak and defenseless. Despite the fact that his blood status and that his family was one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight would likely allow him to simply sit out the war safely, he’s still in the midst of it, constantly fighting for the little guy.

Kingsley is a natural leader, but he really only takes up the mantel when he has to (ie, Dumbledore and Moody are dead and the Order is leaderless)

Just another reminder that Kingsley dueled Voldemort and he’s a badass.

Kingsley is one of the first to rush to Harry after he’s defeated Voldemort.  He’s listed among all the people who love Harry most.  (Shut up, I’m not crying, you’re crying.)

So we come to what is perhaps more your question, kind Anon. What is Harry and Kingsley’s relationship like post-war.  As you point out, I write him as having fondness and protectiveness for Harry right from the beginning of Knowing Where to Look, and I have had readers challenge me (kindly) that Harry and Kingsley really weren’t that close in canon. 

I’ll agree that Harry was not close with Kingsley, but I’m here to argue that that’s not entirely true the other way around.  I think there’s subtle hints that Kingsley was fond and protective of Harry in canon.  Whenever Kingsley knew Harry was in danger, he came running.  I don’t think that was just duty to the Order.  There’s a personal component there as well.

We know that at least Remus and likely Sirius spoke of Harry amongst other Order members.  Before he even met Harry, Kingsley would have heard about Harry in ways that most strangers would not have heard of him.  It’s almost certain he knew many of the details of Harry’s experience in the graveyard when Voldemort returned (most all Order members would have been briefed on this when the Order was reestablished). He had likely heard tales from Sirius and Remus of how Harry braved Dementors and werewolves and time travel to rescue Sirius.  Maybe even rumors of his exploits with the Chamber of Secrets and the Philosopher’s Stone which Remus may have picked up from other professors when he taught at Hogwarts.  Remus even spoke of Harry enough to have mentioned that he looked like James— something that would have had no bearing on the mission.  The point is, the people surrounding Kingsley loved Harry, and I think that affection would naturally have bled into him just from the types of stories they were likely to tell about him. 

Then, all those people who surrounded Kingsley and who loved Harry die.  I think it’s very natural that as his friends— who were all so committed to protecting Harry— all died one-by-one, Kingsley would have taken up that mantel and felt the need to protect him in their place.  Even if it wasn’t one hundred percent from his own personal affection at first, he would have felt this a duty he owed his departed friends who all died in the name of keeping Harry safe.  After Harry emerges from hiding, older and more independent than ever, I think it would have been challenging for Kingsley to accept that Harry is not that kid he needs to protect (hence his sometimes-unwelcome paternal instincts in KwtL).  Furthermore, given my theory that he is without family and especially after the loss of so many Order friends and colleagues, post-war Kingsley may have been a little starved for affection himself which may have encouraged him to reach out more to Harry as he struggled with the isolation of his position of power. 

In conclusion, Kingsley loves Harry, and no one can convince me otherwise.  He’s prepared to give up his career for him, and though Harry would be completely devastated to know it, he’s prepared to give up his life for him. 

(A few random and less-related but perhaps still interesting headcanons:  As I mentioned above, I doubt he is married or has children.  I headcanon him married to his job and decidedly single and generally fine with that (who knows, maybe even aroace?).  I know his age is never really stated or implied, but I headcanon him to be a few years older than the Mauraders.  His vibe in the books just says forty-something for some reason.  My completely unfounded headcanon is that the Shacklebolt and Potter Families were friends—Kingsley’s and James’s parents moved in the same social circles, throwing Kingsley and James together enough growing up to be friendly but not besties.  Friendly enough that he may have attended Lily and James’s wedding, for example, but not so friendly as to have followed him into the Order the first time around.  Again, these bits are purely my imagination and yes have no real importance to the story.)

Thanks for the Ask, Anon!  I clearly have thought way too much about this. I hope you enjoy the insights into how my brain builds on characterization as I’m writing some of these smaller side-characters. Love ya back!

[wolfvmin]

House of Cards: Final

pairing: chishiya shuntarou x fem!reader genre: angst, fluff, unrequited love (but is it really), pining wc: 30.8k (i know, i’m sorry) warnings: violence, niragi, spontaneously written at 2am and under the influence, chishiya is emotionally constipated, violence, mentions of sex, making out, mentions of murder, suicidal themes, slightly obsessive banda, season 2episode 7, reader is reckless, mentions of torture, daddy issues, smut, dry humping, nipple play, oral (f and m receiving), fingering, penetrative sex, unprotected sex (wrap it before u tap it >:(), multiple orgasms, a little choking, doggy style, missionary  summary: the final games of borderland are upon you. it’s up to you and chishiya to navigate where you stand in this world and to each other.  a/n: IM SORRY IT TOOK SO LONG,, and thank you for 515 followers!! <333 ily ily :((( i’m sad this is the last part. also i think the aib fandom has been thinning lately </333. i took too long in writing damn. if anyone wants drabbles of the hoc couple i’d be down to write them! i really enjoyed writing this story. thank u for reading it! 

AO3 link ; Part 2 (Previous Part)

You still weren’t sure if you’d died in the Queen of Clubs game and hallucinated last night’s events. Neither of you was clear about what that kiss meant. Was it just in the heat of the moment? Was it Chishiya acting on his apology? Or perhaps a reciprocation of what you feel for him? You don’t know and you were too scared to ask. 

The kisses ended as the song ended. Chishiya pulled away as soon as that record stopped spinning. Then he smiled at you. A small one where the corners of his lips were slightly turned upward. It was a smile that could mean many things if we were talking about that white-haired guy. To make matters worse, that motherfucker turns around and leaves you alone in the living room, confused and somewhat turned on, without saying anything.

The light seeps through your closed lids and you try to block it with your right hand, scrunching your forehead in annoyance. Your other hand glides over the other side of the bed, searching for the man who slept beside you last night. The material of his shirt is soft against your palms, indicating that he’s still next to you in bed.

With your eyes open now, you see Chishiya who is still sleeping beside you. He looks so peaceful like this. Although it’s not the first time that you’ve woken up beside Chishiya, it’s somewhat different to find something familiar in the real world. 

You were sure you’d never see him again when you found yourself in this world. You’ve lost all hope to get back to your previous life. But he’s here. He’s real and beside you. Somehow, you don’t know if you’re lucky or misfortunate for this. Sometimes, you wish you never found him at The Beach. 

“Get back to sleep.”

He still had his eyes closed, forehead scrunching while he said that. You chuckle, his morning voice ten times more attractive to you. Suddenly, the tip of his nose is the next thing you fixate on. Using your index finger, you booped it, making his nose scrunch up and catching your hand with his. 

His eyes finally flutter open, staring at you intently. The only light in the room is from the sunlight seeping through the windows, you can see the reflection of it in his eyes. From this close distance, you can see his dark eyes’ irises in hazel brown. His skin looks a little bit rougher and his lips are drier than they did in the real world. Despite this, his lips still looked like it was beckoning you, whispering to be tasted as they did last night.

You turn on your stomach, leaning unto your elbows for support as you shift your body closer to his. The action was not easy, your body sore from all the fighting you’d done in the last game. His face is about an inch away from yours, so close that you can hear each other breathing. There’s a weight that is put onto the back of your neck and you quickly realize that Chishiya’s hand is there. 

He doesn’t do anything. He doesn’t push your head down to finally close the distance. He doesn’t even move his fingers. His hand just stays still there as you slightly hover over him. 

“Hey, Shuntarou. Will you marry me?” 

A wide grin spreads across your face when you ask him. In answer, the man’s face drops into a frown, his eyes unamused. “What? You kissed me last night. You have to marry me now.”

“I don’t think that’s what that usually entails,” he replies with his raspy voice, lips tugged to an amused smirk. 

“Can I kiss you again?” You ask, ignoring his sassy remark to your unserious question. Your gaze fell onto his lips once more. You were too scared of his answer to meet his eyes. So you wait.

Just like that, he finally uses his hand on your nape to push your head down, smashing your lips against his. Last night’s kiss was unexpected and serene. It was your first kiss with Chishiya and to you, it was perfect. However, this one right now is needy—like he couldn’t get enough of you. 

You weren’t a prude. You've shared a bed with men even if your heart was Chishiya’s. It was mostly due to curiosity, loneliness, and simply fulfillment of needs. And if you were being honest, you don’t know if Chishiya was even interested in matters of sex. You never really indulged each other in your sensual lives. And to be frank, you’d rather not think about Chishiya being intimate with someone else.

However, as he kisses you right now and how he gently pushes your shoulder with his other hand to lay your head on the pillow, you know that Chishiya knows a thing or two about pleasing his partner. His body hovers over you as his knee is between your legs and his hand beside your head. Your hands clung to his shirt as if to prove to yourself that yes, Chishiya Shuntarou, the love of your life and the man of your dreams, is melting you in a heated kiss on a bed you shared. 

You register the plumpness of his lips as you’re still in a bit of shock. Chishiya’s free hand slides to your waist and gives you a squeeze in order for you to fall back into the rhythm of his kisses. These lips that would often frown and smirk at you, how long have you imagined what they would feel like? They were warm, contrasting his cold exterior. Even warmer is his tongue as he darts it out to lick at your lips, asking for entrance. You let him in, pulling him even closer to you by grasping his shirt down. 

It’s just so Chishiya to do things with ease and perfection. It seemed calculated and somehow erotic like he was communicating every word that he couldn’t say through his kisses. When he pulls away, it elicits a breathy gasp from you. Your eyes were wide open, blown out, and staring at him with glossy eyes. 

You’ve only felt this way a few times in your life, a number you can count with your fingers. Happiness, is it? 

It’s not high. It wasn’t addicting. You’ve experienced that a lot with fighting. But this… this feeling is so pleasing that it almost brings you to tears. This was the kind of happiness that brings you to disbelief. It makes you think, “Do I deserve to be this happy?” 

“More,” you plead, begging like you were an addict.

Chishiya hums, his deep voice sending you straight to heaven right there and then. He doesn’t lean in. Instead, he taps your cheeks with three fingers. Twice in a fast motion. 

To your disappointment, Chishiya removes himself from you and gets off the bed. He exits the bedroom and you were left on the bed, thirsty like a fish out of the water. 

You’ve put on new gym clothes. It was a black sports bra and active jogger pants. Chishiya was in the living room, reading a book he found somewhere lying around. It seemed he found something too. “I’m going for a jog,” you inform him, already stretching to start. 

Chishiya doesn’t even look at you. Typical. But you know he heard you and he wants you to be safe. It’s dangerous for both of you to keep going like this. Communication is much needed in every relationship, no matter what kind of relationship it is. You’re not sure if those kisses have changed anything in yours and you should really talk about it. However, what you really need right now is to sweat it out and gain some confidence to ask him.

Yesterday, you and Chishiya took the chance of having a long visa to lounge around all day. He never kissed you again and acted like how he was before. What he did do was not let you out of the bed, insisting that you should rest your injuries away for the day. You obliged. When have you not?

Now, it’s early in the morning and the sun has not even reached its highest. The apartment was near trees, you’ve gone just away from the center as much as possible. Chishiya said that after you join the next game, it’d be best to move out of there. He assumes that since the games would be going down one by one, the King of Spades would go around the edges of Tokyo to push everyone back into the center. 

As you were running along the sidewalks, you remember having morning jogs and stretching like this with Usagi, bringing Usagi and Arisu into your thoughts once again. They should be fine. Kuina too. Still, you can’t help but worry for them.

You’ve gone a bit far from the apartment, jogging by a short tunnel under a bridge. Before completely going in, you stop in your tracks, hearing something other than the wind whistling and leaves rustling. You focused on listening, hiding on the side and pulling a dagger from a strap on your leg. 

It was breathing. Difficult breathing. And sobs. Someone is crying. 

You’ve become careful with your steps, readying for anything as you approach the sound. Slowly, you reach the voice. It was one man, leaning against the wall of the tunnel. It was dark but you could see the gunshot wound on his head and the gun in his hand. He could barely move his mouth, dark red blood all over it. When he sees you, his sobs get louder. 

You stand near him but not approaching him closely. He raises his empty hand and points at something. You follow his gaze to your hand. He was pointing at your dagger.

Oh.

Your eyes darkened at what he was insinuating—what he was asking of you. 

“P-Please… end it.” 

This stranger was asking you to mercy kill him. Why? He was done for what he’d done. Why would he kill himself? You’re not sure he could even reply if you ask him.

His bloodshot eyes plead with you as tears and blood fall from them. You walk closer to the man, your hands slightly trembling. You wish you brought a gun with you. That way you wouldn’t have to use your hands for what you’ll do. You think about it first. Not if you’ll do it but how you’ll do it. You have a dagger. That’s all you have. You’ve brought it for emergencies but you didn’t think you’d actually have to use it. 

It would have to be the most painless way possible. 

“Lean forward,” you instruct the man in a low voice, completely dreading what you’re supposed to do.

The man, with all his strength left, removed himself from the wall. If you stab him repeatedly in the chest, he’d have to bleed out and die painfully longer. You have to strike somewhere else. His back was free for you to stab into. No matter how many deaths you’ve seen, it just doesn’t get easier. Especially if you’re the one to cause it. 

This is the first kill. A mercy kill. You’re doing this man a favor but making a burden to yourself. You know that if you do this, you’ll have to remember him for the rest of your life and somehow regret it. You weren’t a monster. You have darkness inkling inside of you that you don’t understand but you were still human. 

“T-thank you,” he was able to say as he spluttered blood onto the pavement. Tears well up in your eyes and your nostrils flare up as you take a deep breath.

Blocking your thoughts away, you strike your blade unto his back, just above his shoulder blade, severing the spinal cord. You remember this one lecture in med school where someone asked where would be the most painless way to stab someone to death out of sheer curiosity. This was the answer. 

You watch as his body falls sideways when you pull out your dagger, his blood painting the cemented ground and your hand. You wipe your hunting blade on his clothes and put it back on the strap of your leg. 

When death comes to collect him, his hands relax and their contents fall. Something scrunched up fell out of the hand without the gun, the one he pointed your dagger with. You pick it up and straighten it. It was a picture of him and a child. He was a father. 

Does that mean that child is dead? A father wouldn’t kill himself knowing he has a daughter back home. But would he? It’s possible. You don’t even know the name of this man. You don’t know what kind of person he is, much less a father. Sighing, you pick up his gun next. It was a Pistol. You could keep it but it was useless. Where would you get—

Oh.

For the second time in a few minutes, you were dumbstruck. Even if it was pointless, you couldn’t help but check the gun just to be sure. And you were glad you did. This gun… still had bullets, meaning you didn’t have to do it yourself. 

Your grip on the gun tightened, feeling a bit betrayed by this man. He hadn’t asked you to kill him because he was incapable and out of bullets. He asked you to do it because he was a coward to finish it himself.

Feeling a bit drained because of the revelations, you decide to head back to the apartment, carrying the gun in your hand.You push open the door, knowing you’ve left it unlocked. 

“I’m back,” you announced to not alarm your companion in the house. Chishiya was already in your line of sight, sitting on the couch which can be seen directly from the door. He wasn’t sitting there earlier. Was he waiting for you? 

Lifting his head from the book, he takes in your appearance. There was blood that splattered over you. Not to mention your hand that was still covered in blood and holding a loaded gun. He raises a brow as if waiting for an explanation. You shake your head, not wanting to talk about it. 

“It’s nothing I couldn’t handle,” you press and head to the room to clean yourself. 

When you’ve cleaned yourself and changed your clothes, you stare at the gun on your bedside table. You sat down on the side of the bed, slouching, and then completely lying down and staring at the ceiling. You shouldn’t feel this way. You still helped the man. But still, you couldn’t help but feel a little bit betrayed. Maybe that’s just how it is. This is how people are. In the end, he chose to die no matter who did it or how it happened. It’s fine to feel upset. But what happened already happened. 

Chishiya strides into the room, standing beside you and looking down at you. You groan, turning to your side to not see him.  “Go away,” you order weakly.  

You’d rather not tell him what happened. This will go away in a few days. But for now, your heart is too heavy to do anything else. So, for now, you hope Chishiya leaves it alone.

“I’ll join a Diamonds game.”

You scoff. “I said I’m fine—wait, what?” You sat up on the bed in disbelief. That’s what he was going to say? He wasn’t even going to check up on you? 

“You’re staying here. You need more rest,” he adds. 

You shake your head. “What? Are you kidding? No!”

He stares at you, giving you that nonchalant expression again. This was non-negotiable. He really didn’t want you anywhere near the Diamonds game. 

“I’ve won a Diamonds game once.” It was true. Your first game was a Diamond. You were capable of a Diamonds game. Just because you threw away medicine doesn’t mean you were not smart. “What if only one survives? That’s not limited to a Hearts game, you know?” 

You couldn’t answer. 

“I’ll go,” he repeats. “Stay here.”

“When?” You ask him, lips jutting out almost into a pout. Your frown and scrunched-up forehead should tell him that you still don’t agree with this. “Tomorrow.” 

You put your head down. If he’s going to join a game, you couldn’t just wait around here for him to come home. It’s going to make you officially go insane, being alone here in Borderlands. 

You’ve never been alone since you met Usagi. Ever since you met her, you couldn’t believe you found an actual pure person here. She was a good friend and just like she’s done for Arisu, she’s the reason why you’re still alive and fighting for yourself.

It was time to join a game by yourself again. 

“Fine,” you say without looking at him, fronting how you’re just agreeing with him but already decided that you’ll leave once he’s out of sight.

He doesn’t say anything and just walks out of the room, finishing the conversation. 

You gave Chishiya the silent treatment the whole night. Were you sulking? Maybe. But you can’t really blame him. You were just upset. Was that a crime? You can be upset right? A person doesn’t have to be understanding every time. When you woke up, he was still beside you, staring at you with those deep brown eyes. Why is he looking at you like this? 

“What?” you deadpanned. 

“I’ll come back.” It wasn’t to assure you. It wasn’t a promise. It was simply a statement. He’ll come back. He’s sure of it. You trust him, yes. But maybe the reason you’re upset was because of something else. Worry? But not just for him. For him and yourself. 

What if you don’t come back from the game you’re joining? That would be a shame. He won’t even know and just find you gone. But he won’t allow you. So if you don’t allow him now, you’d be a hypocrite. 

“I know,” you answer softly, laying your armor down, and giving up the fight. He sits up on the bed, tugging on his white jacket that was folded by his bedside table and wearing it. It was cute to you how he still wears it. 

“We have many days left on our visa. Does it have to be today?” You ask him, sitting up too.

“I want to clear the games as fast as possible,” he answers. 

You understand that he wants to clear the Diamond games himself. What for? Absolutely nothing but curiosity and interest. He finds them fun and challenging even if his life was on the line. Sometimes, you think you worry more about his life than he does. 

He knows he’s clever. You know that too. But sometimes, he really needs to realize that he isn’t immortal or anything. You sigh. “A game could take days. What do I do here?”

“Rest. Did you forget you have an injured leg?” He was putting on his shoes now, turning his head for a second to give you a look. 

“No. But it’s fine now.” You really did feel better about your leg. “I want to look for the others.” 

“When I come back.” He refuses again and stands up, ready for his day. You poked your cheek with your tongue. He really doesn’t want you out of this house, does he?

The rest of the day goes by quietly. He planned to leave in the afternoon. So, you still had a meal with him before he left. Chishiya leaving was uneventful. He didn’t kiss you goodbye or offer you any words of assurance. He just… left. However, he did remind you to rest. 

But rest, you didn’t. 

You gave Chishiya 30 minutes before you left. It was 30 minutes for him to get far enough for you not to see him outside. It was getting dark and cold. You’ve decided to put on a hoodie, covering your sports bra. You slung the sword Kuina gave you over your shoulder and put your dagger back in its sheath that was attached to a wrap over your leggings. You figured that the gun might come in handy to you if you ever come face to face with the King of Spades. So, you took that too, putting it inside your small belt bag.

You head over to the nearest Spades game, knowing it will be a long walk. 

You were about 45 minutes away from the apartment and looking for a working car. However, you were failing. Every car out here is trashed. Plus, you weren’t very knowledgeable about fixing them up. 

So you had no choice but to walk.

Getting a bit tired, you decide to sit down on the sidewalk. 

However, not even five minutes of your resting have passed, you hear a scream. And then gunshots. Not just any gunshots. Rifles. 

You immediately stand up, hearing that dreadful sound could only mean one thing. 

And then you see the woman screaming, running with a few people behind her. 

The King of Spades was here.

You get on your feet, hearing and seeing his blimp in the sky. Your sneaker-clad feet pounded against the cemented ground, breathing steadily as your lungs pumped. Fuck. You can’t face him alone. 

You just ran, always choosing the safest option of direction while avoiding the gunshots. One direction led you to another then another, until you lost sight of the Spades game’s blimp. You were forced to go the other direction to another game. 

You ran and ran until you didn’t hear the gunshots anymore. Then you see it. A blimp for another game that wasn’t a Spades or Diamonds. It wasn’t your target but it also wasn’t Chishiya’s. 

Can you do it?

You don’t know which is more depressing: you ending up in a Hearts game or the grey walls of Teio Prison. 

PUT ON A COLLAR AND GO UPSTAIRS TO THE CENTRAL GUARDROOM

There were two collars left on the table. Shit. It’s the exploding kind of Heart game, huh? 

With a frown, you get one of the collars and clasp it around your neck. It makes a blip sound and some kind of shuffling sound. What could that be? Whatever it is, you know it’s no good.

Sighing, you make your way to the central guardroom, taking all your time in the world and observing the dark penitentiary. It’s giving you the creeps. You thought about what might have you waiting here. A Hearts game in prison? You really should’ve joined a Spade game. Man, fuck the King of Spades. This is all his fault. You just hope that Chishiya is doing well at a Diamon—

Chishiya?

As soon as you lift your head from looking at the stairs you were climbing, your line of sight catches that damned white jacket and white hair. What was he doing here? Didn’t he say he’d join a Diamonds game?

You didn’t let the shock show through your movements or countenance. Instead, you turn to your right and lock your eyes with him as you stand over the nearest wall from the stairs. 

Everyone was reserved and kept themselves at a distance from others. It wouldn’t look good if you just walked over to him like old buddies at a fair. It’s better to be strangers. But oh, he was mad. 

With the way his brows were slightly furrowed and his jaw was clenched, you try not to avoid his gaze and cower right there and then. Beside him, the agitated man in overalls follows Chishiya’s gaze over to you and then he whispers something to him. This made you look away, afraid he’ll know of your relations. While you busy yourself with observing the other players, you’re sure Chishiya made up a lie about you. 

You hear soft steps on the staircase and you know that the game is about to start. You notice that their feet were intentionally light. There was only one collar left downstairs. The person going up should be the last player.

He stops right at the end of the stairs, looking around at all the players who were avoiding his gaze. Well, except you and Chishiya. Lastly, his gaze lands on you who was right beside him. The corner of his lips curled up into a subtle sinister smirk. You raise a brow, tilting your head to the side. You already don’t like this guy. You poked your cheek with your tongue and crossed your arms, about to address his condescending stare when the screen attached to the wall lights up, indicating the game is starting. 

DIFFICULTY LEVEL Jack of Hearts 

The odd man’s eyes stray from yours when the automated voice is heard. You both look at the screen and listen attentively.

GAME SOLITARY CONFINEMENT

Rules:

Guess the card suit that appears on the back of your collar. However, you may not look at the symbol yourself. This game is about how much you can trust one another.

The time limit is one hour per round.

In the final five minutes, enter the cell and state your symbol. 

When the time limit reaches zero, your collar will reset and change for each round. 

Beware that your opponent, the Jack of Hearts is hidden among you.

Looking at your symbol through reflection is not allowed.

Players may not use weapons or violence to kill fellow players.

GAME OVER If you do not guess your correct symbol, your collar will explode.

GAME CLEAR You win when the Jack of Hearts dies.

As the other players react to the rules and other details of the game, you are left to think for yourself. There’s no limit of hours to this game which means that betrayal is inevitable if we want to get out of these depressing walls. Someone has to lie to the Jack, kill him, and clear this game. Anyone could be the Jack, even Chishiya.

The game will now commence.  ROUND ONE

It’s complete silence as the buzzer rings throughout the penitentiary, indicating the start of the timer for an hour. The players are eyeing each and every one, probably looking for a trustworthy face to dictate their suits and fate. At least, now you know that Chishiya wouldn’t lie to you about your suit. Should you just go ahead and partner up with him? It shouldn’t look suspicious, right? 

Some players began to partner up as you still stand like a wallflower, watching as they form groups. 

“So, the 20 of us need to eliminate each other until we somehow figure out who the Jack of Hearts is.” A tall man in corporate attire speaks out loud, speaking to no one in particular beside the first two guys who decided to partner up. “What makes you think that anyone is trustworthy?”

The two guys who were just eager to tell each other’s suit began to grow wary, stepping away from each other hastily. Your brow furrows at this man. He was right but his aura exudes something dark and clouded, just like the man beside you who last joined the game. Could either of them be the jack? 

An arrogant-looking bald guy in chains that previously stood in the middle of the guardroom makes his way in your direction. Your senses are heightened, alert for any cause of disturbance. However, he shifts his way to your right, heading to the nervous-looking man in a blue checkered shirt with a smirk. 

He corners him, no doubt going to pressure him into telling him his suit. He’s a bully that found a mouse to play around with. That’s a wrong move. You watch from your peripheral as the man quivers and shakes from the bald man. “Tsk,” you couldn’t help but react distastefully. Thankfully, the bald man didn’t notice. It was taking everything in you not to intervene. 

The man beside you, however, hears your displeased reaction. Unfortunately, this puts his attention back on you. So you speak, gathering it’d be better to speak to someone, at least. If he was Jack, then he’d want to hear your next words.

“This game…” you utter in a low voice, wanting him to be the only one who hears. “Isn’t going to be cleared through shit like that.” 

The other players began to form a large group with the girl in a blue dress leading it. From the looks of it, this girl is also not to be trusted. Getting involved with a large group offers a far larger chance of betrayal. Especially with one person leading it and others blindly following whatever this person’s decision may be. 

“Forcing,” you refer to the bald man who was still bullying the blue-checkered shirt guy into telling him his suit. “Control,” you refer to the girl who has now gathered most of the players. She’s only put herself more at risk now that she aimed for control. Things could easily turn around if they don’t like the way how she handles things. And you could already tell. From here, she reeks of being fake and two-faced. That group should be the last choice for you. 

“This game is about trust.” You sigh. It seemed fairly easy but you could already tell that this game is going to be a messy representation of humanity. It seemed so fitting—a Hearts game of this difficulty being a face card. 

It’s a clever game, you have to admit. By now, every player in Borderland knows that you should never willingly enter a Hearts game with someone you want to get out of this world with. But this one puts you in a position of needing to have that someone with you in order to survive this game. No matter what, as long as you have one player you have here who you know you can trust, you’ll be able to walk out of here. 

You walk off, not waiting for the guy’s response. There was one hour for each round. You’re sure you can find a partner a little later if Chishiya won’t agree. It’s only the first round and you don’t think even the Jack of Hearts would start killing now. 

For now, you really need to see the food supply they were so proud of. As you head downstairs, you realize that the guy beside you followed you as you register his footsteps when you snapped out of your deep thoughts about the game. You stop in your tracks, waiting for the man to address what the hell is he after. Did he want to be partners? Well, you don’t really think that that’s a good idea for you.

“You’re that L/N.”

You turn around, looking at the source of the voice and the person who seems to know of your heritage. Without the thought of Chishiya startling you, you’re able to focus clearly on the man in front of you. He looked not older than you and Chishiya, a little taller than the both of you too. He was wearing a blue long-sleeved shirt with an inner white shirt. His hair is dark and his eyes were tired, bags under them, and yet he did not look as tired. Instead, his eyes glimmer of malice and unexplainable darkness as he gives you a smirk.

“And who are you?” You question the man in front of you. You can’t quite put your finger on it but the man looked familiar—like you’ve seen him before Borderland. 

“Banda Sunato.” Again, familiar. You’ve heard of it, you’re sure. Was he famous for something? A family friend? A rich person? You really should've paid attention to the television more. 

Something tells you not to trust this man. This was a Hearts game, after all. No one could be trusted. Yet, if you partner yourself with Chishiya, who knows where that will lead? It’s unsafe and he’s a little mad right now. Truthfully, you are too. What can you say? You both are a stubborn bunch. 

“Banda? It’s familiar,” you truthfully ask him for some reason.

“Should be. I was in the news for a while.” The smirk hasn’t been wiped off his face. From then on, you were sure. Just like Niragi, this man is bad news. 

So you turn around again, ready to walk off and head to the food supply. However, a hand on your shoulder stops you. A glimpse of white flashes your eyes from above and you look up for a few seconds, meeting Chishiya’s eyes who were watching you from the floor above, leaning against a wall beside the man dressed in a yellow striped shirt and denim overalls. His jaw is clenched, lips tight, and even from his crossed arms, you see the tight fists forming from his hands. My, he’s almost making a frown too.

You don’t turn around to face Banda again but you break eye contact with Chishiya. You wait for him to speak and look at his frail hands on your shoulder. His hands are gentle, the perfect way to lure you in. You can see from the way his hands looked rough yet delicate—this man cannot fight. Worst comes to worst, you can take him down. But that didn’t matter. This is a Hearts game which means that most of these players are Hearts specialists, no doubt him being one too. You have to be smart about this. You can’t punch your way out of this one.

“I’m a serial killer,” he adds. 

You raise a brow, slowly turning your whole body to face him again. How could he just throw that out of nowhere like it’s a well-sought and respected occupation? And then you remember. Banda Sunato. It was what? One or two weeks? He was all that the news held. He was known to have murdered about four people, specifically women. A real psychopath heading for death row. It gives you the chills, having a real-life murderer standing in front of you and taking an interest in you. 

Does this man scare you? Maybe a little. Should you partner up with him? The normal and sane response would be no but there’s this irrational thought that keeps persuading you that maybe you can actually get through the game with this criminal. 

If what Asaki said in the Queen of Clubs game was real then it really is up to the citizens to design games. A serial killer designing a game inside Teio Prison. It seemed to fit like a puzzle that he would be the Jack of Hearts. 

That’s how you know that it’s possible that he might not be it. It was too easy and too obvious. 

“Are you asking me to partner up with you?” You ask with a poker face, jutting your chin up to compensate for the height difference. It’s funny how a murderer was asking you to trust him. It has to be the most stupid insinuation you have heard in your life. 

“I agree with what you said back there.” He answers, referring to what you said before walking off. “So I’m telling you who I am. It’s your choice, hospital princess. Will you trust a serial killer in this world?” 

Right now, you badly wanted to look up at Chishiya who is no doubt watching from the floor above. You want him to give you some kind of advice or answer for you. But you know he won’t. You’re on your own for this one. You sigh, mirroring his smirk and tilting your head. Don’t let him think he bothers you. “Can I think about it? I’m really hungry.”

“Of course,” he replies. And with one nod, you walk away from him, still feeling the serial killer’s eyes on you until you get away from the center of the lower floor. 

The cafeteria was indeed filled with shelves of food and drinks. As you stare at a wall of food, you are overwhelmed with the choices, not being used to seeing multiple foods that are actually still edible and you didn’t have to check their expiration date. You roam your eyes around, looking for something good to eat.

And then you spot that yellow bag of biscuits. Chishiya’s favorite. Seeing it made you grin to yourself. Oh, he’s gonna be so happy. Too bad you didn’t really like those cookies.

There were ramen cups and instant rice too but you figure that a snack would suffice so you grab yourself a packed strawberry cake roll and a chocolate drink. You missed sweets so much. You’re tired of eating instant noodles and whatever canned goods you could find in convenience stores.

There were a few people in the cafeteria. You didn’t like any of them as you stared at them. They stare at you too, probably working out if you were the Jack of Hearts. You give them a smile, one that is confident. Then you give them a nod, one that is out of respect. And then you leave the cafeteria.

You ate the sliced cake roll while walking around the penitentiary, observing the people and keeping the chocolate drink in your hoodie’s pocket. 

No one seemed like a safe option. The big group, the bald man and his mouse, the couple in business attire, Chishiya, and Banda. These are your options. 

And finally, you approach Chishiya and his partner who awfully reminds you of Minions because of his outfit. “Hey,” you talk to the overalls guy, purposefully ignoring Chishiya. “Do you guys have room for one more?”

The guy stutters, looking over to Chishiya for some kind of confirmation. Wow, he already trusts him this much? 

“We’re part of this group already,” Chishiya answers for him and points at the blue-dress girl. So they joined the big group? Huh. You wonder why. You know he knows that big groups are dangerous. Once one person’s trust is lost, they’ll go down like dominoes. 

It doesn’t matter, then. You only need Chishiya’s trust. But it seems that he doesn’t want you to join him here.

“Huh,” your reply now was for Chishiya. It’s crazy. He’s driving you insane. Is he still mad that you joined a game? If he cares so much about you then why won’t he just tell you your suit and—you don’t know, keep you alive? 

You place the last roll of cake in your mouth, chewing in front of the two guys. You give a nod at Chishiya who stares at you with curled-up lips, anticipating your next move.

This is dangerous, what you’ve decided to do. 

You could ask Chishiya again or his partner what your suit was and join their big group. But you don’t want to. 

You take a step back and Chishiya’s smirk drops. He wasn’t expecting that. He thought you’d try and persuade him to let you join his partnership with Ippei.

A strange feeling tugs your heart as you walk away from Chishiya. His presence is comforting. It calms you down in this game. And yet, you are walking away from him—from both your safety.

You aim to find the Jack of Hearts yourself. And you won’t be able to do that hiding from Chishiya’s back. 

As if on cue, Banda walks into the central guardroom with another guy behind him. He was tall and had this fringe covering almost half of his face. So he already found a partner after all.

“Replaced me so quickly?” You ask with a smirk as you punch your straw in the chocolate drink. 

“So you’ve decided.” His voice is as sinister as his whole being. It scares you. A lot. But you think you can trust him. You think.

“They all seemed… boring,” you answer truthfully. 

The man behind him watches you carefully and you give him a slight wave. “What’s up? I’m Y/N.”

“Matsushita,” he replies simply. 

You turn around, pulling off your hoodie and hair away from your nape. 

“Heart.” It was Banda who answered, then it was confirmed by Matsushita. 

You ask them if you need to tell them theirs but they said there was no need. You shrug, they must’ve already told each other. 

And so you were in Banda’s group. This is gonna be hella interesting.

You sit by the two guys as the hour passes, watching the other players interact and talk to each other. You don’t doubt that Banda told you your real suit. The killings won’t start yet. Not in the first round. 

“Are you not going to doubt me?” Banda asks you as you sit next to each other against a wall. Matsushita stands beside you, no doubt listening to your conversation now. 

This Matsushita—you don’t like him. He seemed quietly arrogant. Those are the worst kind of assholes. 

“No,” you admit. “You’re not going to lie to me yet.” 

“You still don’t trust me?” He asks but he knows the answer to that. “Then why would you join me? Your life is in my hands now.”

Your mind brings you back to a certain blonde-haired man. His smirks and his clever words. “I like my men a little deranged,” you answer with a shrug.

There was silence between you for a few seconds. The sound of your drinking is the only thing heard. Although you’ve long strayed your eyes from Banda, you still feel his eyes on you. He was thinking deeply, calculating you like a math problem. 

“You don’t like your life outside Borderlands,” he concluded. You pause, turning your head to look at the psychopath. What was he saying? “You’re reckless but smart. You know what you’re doing here. And yet you still paired up with me knowing I’ve murdered for nothing but pleasure. What makes you think I won’t kill you?” 

You scoff. “You won’t kill me in the first round. There needs to be some kind of push before the killing starts. Like a hand triggering dominos.” He listens to you and doesn’t answer for a while, thinking while a sinister smile spreads on his face. You know you’re right. 

“Just as I thought,” he answers before standing up.

The timer turns zero as he stands up and the voice of the game speaks again. 

“It is time to give your answer. Please enter a solitary confinement of your choosing.”

You walked side by side with Banda, stopping at a door next to his. From your peripheral, you could see that Chishiya chose a door two doors down from yours. You’re pretty sure you’re safe for the first round but you can’t help but panic. 

You enter a cell. It’s small and even more depressing than the outside. 

“Please give your answer.”

The speed of your heart beating rises, constricting the air in your lungs. An exploding neck should be one of the most gruesome ways to die in Borderlands. 

You calmly close your eyes, tuning out the panicked thoughts in your head. 

“Heart.”

Silence. 

A rush of relief passes you. Just as you thought. No one is dying in the first hour. 

You step out of the cell at the same time as everybody else does. Banda’s eyes were already on you when you looked at him, giving you the same sinister stare. You wink at him in return before walking off to follow the other players, not even staying to see his reaction.

“Round 2 begins now.”

In the center guardroom, the big group began to thank each other for being honest. You sat on your spot before, in the middle of a sitting Banda and a standing Matsushita. 

“I wonder how long is this going to go on for?”

Matsushita verbalizes the question in your mind. If there’s no trigger, the real game wouldn’t start. But it has to be soon. If not and all the players really are going to be honest with each other, then soon we’d be stuck in this prison in an endless cycle. Even if the food supply is abundant, each round lasts an hour. It’d be exhausting. One can’t get much sleep in an hour. We’d go insane in these dry walls.

“Either the Jack will start to kill or someone afraid of the Jack will start to kill. As Y/N said earlier, until a trigger happens, this will never end.” Banda’s the one who answered Matsushita’s question. 

Before you could give your thoughts, a body slams to the floor next to Banda. It was the boy in the blue-checkered shirt, being thrown off by the bald man in chains. 

“I told you to give me the answer!” The arrogant man screams in frustration. Everyone goes quiet as they watch the situation unfolds. This man couldn’t be more stupid, thinking he would win by using his fists over his partner. 

He was about to attack the man with a kick but you move faster than light, standing and throwing a kick to the man’s stomach before he could hurt the boy, sending him flying and landing on his bottom and away from you. You don’t know why you did it. You couldn’t stop yourself from saving him. Maybe it has become all too pathetic or too painful to watch. At times like these, you really miss Arisu and Usagi. You know they would’ve done the same. Maybe even better than you. 

“What the fuck?!” The man reacts, staring at you with glaring wide eyes. 

From behind you, Banda moves to the boy on the floor, whispering in his ear. You hear it all clearly. While he was asking if the boy was alright, he whispers that he should tell him his suit is a Club.

It was the wrong answer.

The man quickly stands up, glaring at you along the way. He heads for the boy again and you wanted to interrupt if it weren’t for you catching Chishiya’s gaze of disapproval and Banda holding your arm. You glance at Banda's hand on your arm and he lets go, walking back to his spot while the bald man begins holding the boy by his hair.

Don’t get involved, you could almost hear Chishiya’s voice in your head. It’s what he would say to you in this situation.

“Looks to me that you want another beating.” He punches the boy in the face and you put your head down. 

“Give me the answer!” He raises his fist, threatening to throw another punch if the boy doesn’t speak.

“C-club!” The boy stuttered out an answer.

“Huh?!” The man wants him to repeat it louder.

“Club!” he answers, firmer this time yet he still closes his eyes, readying himself for another punch.  

The fist doesn’t come. Instead, the man taps his face like he’s a good dog. “Don’t wait so long next time.” And he lets go of the boy’s hair roughly, making the boy lean on his palms to support himself again on the floor. Then he collapses his body on the floor, curling up and turning into a sobbing mess.

The man passed by Chishiya and his partner, walking through the other players and all of you could see clearly. 

The bald man’s symbol is a Diamond.

“It’s the trigger,” Banda whispers in your ear, making the hair at the back of your head rise. Ah. That’s why he manipulated the boy into saying the false suit. It was to finally start the game.

It didn’t matter now. All is said and done. The boy lied in front of everybody by choice. The wall of trust is broken. 

The game is finally starting… and you couldn’t help but think that it’s your doing.

Just as expected, the lies and mischief started when the bald man’s neck blew up. Everyone is scared, wondering if they’re going to be next.

To make matters worse, the big group recruited the boy who first lied. You can tell that Urumi, the girl in the blue dress, wanted to eliminate him in case he was the Jack. Having such a mischievous leader, that group is going to end up in flames.

“You’re no princess, after all.” You don’t know if Banda is talking about your eating habits or show of skill in the previous round. 

Still, you glare at Banda as you eat potato chips this time around, craving something salty. There was silence as you two sat side by side in the central guardroom. Matsushita has gone to the cafeteria to get some snacks of his own. 

You wonder what Chishiya was doing right now. He’s in the cafeteria with the big group. You’re incredibly bored.

“Underground fighter,” you suddenly say. Banda doesn’t answer but you know he’s intrigued and listening.

“I’m an underground fighter,” you finish your sentence. 

“I see,” he replies as if that answers a lot of questions for him. “Blood, sweat, and glory. It appeals to you.” 

You nod. “I’m a Spades player.”

“Then you’ve definitely fought harder here than back there in the real world.” 

He was right. You thought back to the games you were in—all the games where you had to fight for yourself. It was life or death and yet it gave you that feeling of rush. To put your life on the line gives you an unexplainable feeling that you loved and craved.

“You crave death.” His sudden words make you freeze. “You’re not afraid of being hurt because you want it. You like it more when it’s about to kill you. Because you want it, don’t you? The reason you’re so reckless is that you have nothing to lose. It doesn’t matter if you die today or tomorrow. It’s why you partnered up with me. Because you’re more at risk with me.” 

His face has become awfully close to yours, inches away. He hadn’t put on a smirk this time. Instead, he stares at your soul like he’s known you all your life or he can read you like an open book. Unlike Chishiya, you found nothing but an abyss in his soulless eyes. 

Was it true? Is the reason why you loved fighting so much… because you’re suicidal? You thought about it a lot. That maybe one night, you might just meet your match and finally die in that ring. No one will know. You’ll just disappear into thin air. That was how the underground worked. It was a thought that scared you but somehow calmed you.

If this doesn’t work today, then you’ll just die. But every night, you prove yourself wrong. You win. Was it just a battle with yourself that you deserve to win with the risk of dying?

“What shall you do?” He tilts his head to the side. “I think I plan to keep you alive until the end.” 

The shake in your eyes is probably noticeable now. So you furrow your brows. This man is not the Jack of Hearts. He wants to win this as much as you do. But why? You assume that this is just fun for him, seeing so many deaths. 

Fine, you’ll play the game.

“I want to live,” you firmly say. 

“Why?” He asks. “Why do you want to live?” 

It was almost the same question Chishiya asked you back at The Beach. While Chishiya asked you what was so valuable about your life in the real world, Banda asked you why you want to live. It’s just two questions—two questions that are somehow related to each other. Unfortunately, you don’t have the answer to that yet. Life has never appealed to you. It brought you more bad than good and yet you want to live. Do you deserve to? Probably not. But you don’t care. As long as you can, you will fight to live. 

“So I can live freely. Here.” A lie. But you sensed that that’s what he wanted to hear. It wasn’t much of a secret. If you’re a criminal on trial, which is a better world to be in? A boring, stupid world where you’re on death row or a cruel one where people die every day? Where everyone is equal? Where it doesn’t matter how rich or poor you are or what you’ve done or what you haven’t done? Where all that matters is you play the game and survive? You… what would you choose?

He seemed satisfied with your answer, pulling away and looking ahead with his hands on his knees again. “I think… this world is a perfect one.” 

You couldn’t believe it. Did you just agree to an invitation to live in Borderlands? Maybe that’s really how this all ends. When you win the games, maybe it will just be your turn to make them. And then what? Maybe this is really Hell and you’re supposed to die here. 

If you’re a citizen, then you would probably work on the Spades games. Banda would definitely be in charge of Hearts. What about Chishiya? He’ll be in Diamonds, for sure. Is it really possible? A world where you and Chishiya could rule and be free? 

You shake the thoughts away. No. This can’t be it. If that were to happen, then you’re not free. You won’t ever be. Not here. You thought back to that man in the tunnel and what he made you do. You don’t want any of that any more than necessary. You won’t have blood on your hands anymore.

And just like that, an agreement is made between you and the serial killer. 

You’ll work together to know more about the citizens. Meaning, you have to catch the Jack of Hearts and interrogate him into telling you more.

For the next round, the boy in the blue-checkered shirt did not survive the lies of the big group. As expected, he isn’t the Jack of Hearts. 

You were getting some snacks in the cafeteria with Matsushita, even getting some food for Banda. You haven’t seen him eat at all the whole game. Are psychopaths incapable of knowing when to eat too?

You notice Matsushita getting the same brand of biscuits that he has been getting each round. Were those really good? You know you’ve tried them once before and there wasn’t really anything special about it. Nah. There was something off about it. How could he just keep getting the same snacks?

Chishiya’s group is mostly at the cafeteria during the rounds. Though, instead of sitting with them, he’s usually at a table beside them with the minion guy whose name you learned is Ippei. He’s just there, eating away his damned biscuits. Sometimes, he would even put four pieces into his mouth while staring into your eyes. Damn, he really missed them, huh?

From what you’ve eavesdropped on, things are starting to get messy with the big group. The blue-dressed girl is starting to turn on her members one by one. Now, you realize that the sole purpose of her making the group is to gain control over who dies first. As if she could get the Jack that way.

For the next few rounds, they fall like dominos. Their pictures are blacked out on the screen as if they’re players on a game show. They were visibly and loudly stressed, the members of the big group. Soon, they’ll be out like a light.

By round nine, you noticed that Chishiya and Ippei were somewhat separated from the group but are still there, opting to not include themselves in their arguments. He really just needs Ippei, you think. 

Banda has been keeping you alive so far. And you don’t think he’s been lying to you so far in any of your conversations alone with him. However, it’s Matsushita that has been suspicious. 

You have a feeling that he’s planning to eliminate Banda somehow. But you aren’t sure how. Does he think Banda’s the Jack of Hearts? 

And those biscuits. You’ve figured it out by round six. He’s communicating with the girl in office attire, the one with the boyfriend who was keeping her away from all the other players for protection. Yaba and Kotoko are their names if you remember them right from the screen. 

If the girl’s communicating with Matsushita then that means that she doesn’t trust her partner. From afar, Matsushita and Kotoko looked awfully submissive to their partners, Yaba and Banda. So, they’ve been scheming, acting like they’re being controlled.

Then it was just seven of you. You, Banda, Matsushita, Yaba, Kotoko, Chishiya, and Ippei. 

Ippei has been distressed the whole game. Unlike the people here who have been tainted by the games, he was pure. You’re glad Chishiya found a partner like him. 

But he’s wavering. And not in the way the others wavered into lying to save themselves. In fact, the boy looked disgusted with all the lies and killing. Just how did he survive all those games before?

“Y/N.” 

An agitated beckoning whisper pulls you back from your worry for Chishiya’s well-being and partner. It was Matsushita, looking around like he was wary of someone.

Huh. He’s going to try and eliminate me.

“What’s wrong?” You ask, feigning worry.

“Did you know that Banda’s a serial killer?” He asks like it’s new information.

You raise your brows and freeze from getting a snack on the shelf, turning your head to the man acting like you are in pure shock. “W-what?” 

“Before Borderlands. In the real world, he’s a serial killer. I think we should eliminate him. He may be the Jack of Hearts.” He explains distraught. 

Before you can react to his acting, Banda strides into the cafeteria. You shift and give the entering man a smirk. 

“Got that thing you brought me last time?”

You nod and reach for the snack and throw it in his direction. He catches it with ease as it lands on his stomach. 

“Let’s go back to the guardroom,” Banda says to both of you, taking a swift glance at Chishiya and his partner who was sitting on one of the tables as well. 

You follow Banda closely, wanting so badly to take a glance at the man in the white jacket when you feel his burning gaze following you and Banda. 

Chishiya’s all alone for the next round. You gathered that maybe Ippei couldn’t handle the mental pressure and eliminated himself because you don’t think that Chishiya would’ve given him the wrong answer when he needed him so much. He’s probably in the cafeteria all alone right now. Matsushita’s heading there right now to get his biscuits, leaving you alone with Banda just right outside the hall of the cafeteria. 

You don’t know why but you feel like this is the final round. 

Oddly, Banda’s keeping a close eye on you. You wonder if it’s because of him seeing you and Matsushita talking. 

He put a hand in front of you when you wanted to follow Matsushita into the cafeteria. You hope that he doesn’t think you don’t trust him anymore. 

“It’s him, isn’t it?” 

You break the silence with a mutter. And then he smirks, confirming your question. Matsushita’s the Jack of Hearts. He was right there beside you all along. 

You don’t say anything more, knowing that Matsushita’s about to come back any minute. You notice that Yaba gave Banda a glance when he passed. Either he finds Banda suspicious or they’ve been communicating too. 

By now, it’s you who’s not sure if you can still trust him.

“I won’t lie to you.” Banda is the one who speaks now, still not looking at you. “You don’t have to worry.” 

It was oddly comforting that you almost forgot that you were talking to a psychopath who kills women, of all people. However, you stayed quiet and nodded. 

Matsushita’s taking a bit long taking his biscuits and you know that Chishiya must’ve spoken to him in there somehow. He doesn’t have a partner, after all. Someone has to tell him about his suit. You want to do it for him but Banda’s keeping an eye on you.

When Matsushita appears again, Banda asks him what happened.

He fidgets on his biscuits packet and then answers. “The Jack of Hearts. I think that it’s that guy.” Then he points to Chishiya’s picture on the screen.

“I thought he was suspicious too,” Banda replies while looking up at the screen. 

“Hm. He did seem quiet through all of this.” You add. There was no point in denying Chishiya being suspicious. You nod at Matsushita as if complimenting him on his observance. But honestly, you want to punch his stupid fringe away from his eye. 

“Well, don’t worry.” He looks at you and Banda proudly. “He’ll die this round. I promise you that.” 

“Good,” you tell him and give him a smile but your blood was boiling deep inside. You wanted to punch him. He definitely lied to Chishiya about his suit back there. 

Fuck. How will you save him? How will you protect him? Think. I have to get out of Banda’s sight.

“Let’s tell each other’s symbol then,” you suggest. “I’ll go first.”

You turn around, lowering your hood and parting your hair from the back. Again, it’s Banda who first speaks up.

“Club.” 

When it was confirmed by Matsushita, he turned around. With Matsushita’s back turned to you and Banda, Banda gives you a glance and smirks. It was time. 

“Spade,” Banda says. 

You nod even if Matsushita couldn’t see it. “Spade,” you agree.

Then it was Banda’s turn. 

This time, Matsushita’s the one giving you a look.

“Spade,” Matsushita claims. 

You nod at Matsushita. “Spade.” 

Banda turns around and looks at the two of you as if assessing your faces. 

“Hm,” he hums. “I’m going to the restroom.” 

Finally, you’re free of this psychopath. 

“I’m going to get some snacks while you’re at it,” you reply. 

You watch as Banda walks away and turns into a corner. Just as you were about to walk off, Matsushita pulled you to the side.

“You’re a Heart. Banda lied to you.” He whispers in your ear. 

So his plan is to kill all of you here.

You nod and thank him. “Good. Thanks.” You whisper back and head to the cafeteria. 

However, just as you were about to leave the guardroom where Matsushita also is, Chishiya walks in. Fuck. How were you going to tell him his suit if he wasn’t there anymore?

You’re sure he still doesn’t know it. Matsushita lied to him and you’re sure Kotoko wouldn’t tell him anything. It’s up to you to give him some kind of sign. 

You take a swift glance at his nape. Diamond. How fitting for him. 

In the cafeteria, you got yourself some sweets and a chocolate drink again. There has to be some kind of sign you could give him. You look through the different kinds of snacks, wondering if you could sneak a tiny piece of paper into them. But that’d be too obvious. And you’d have to give him the snack. 

Then Matsushita’s biscuits catch your eye. 

Hm. You’re sure Chishiya would’ve noticed it too, right?

Hastily, you grab the pack of biscuits with the color of the wrap corresponding to his symbol and exchange it with your cake. Just as Matsushita and Kotoko have been doing.

Walking into the central guardroom, you munch on the cookies loudly and everyone turns their head to you, Chishiya included.

Please get it. 

Banda’s already there beside Matsushita and he was staring at you like a hawk. When you approach them, you wave the biscuits in front of Matsushita’s face.

“Yo, I tried your biscuits and I can see why you can’t get enough of them,” you say and bring another piece into your mouth. “Hey Banda, do you think we can get some of these supplies if we win?” 

“Maybe,” Banda actually replies to the stupid question. 

You hum, nodding while you chew your food. 

Your palms were cold inside the pockets of your jacket as you stand in front of the cell’s door. You’re a Club. Not a heart. It’s okay. You’ll be fine. 

Banda gives you one last glance with his dark eyes before opening his cell door and getting in. When he’s out of your view, Matsushita takes your line of sight. He gives you a nod as if you’re really partners and has deceived Banda. 

You noticed that he hasn’t even held his cell’s knob, waiting for you to get in. You sigh internally. You wanted to be the last one to get in and tell Chishiya his suit verbally. 

However, Chishiya has already opened his cell and gone in. You close your eyes and lick your lips, suddenly anxious. The lights inside this penitentiary are starting to hurt your eyes. The walls are dim as the lights are. No doubt prisoners go insane. 

Sighing, you open your cell and go in. 

“Please give your answer.”

Who do you trust? Banda or Matsushita? The Jack of Hearts or a serial killer?

Well, if you die then you die. 

“Club.”

A loud explosion is heard across the cells and your hands shot up to your neck. When it hits you that your neck is untouched and still very much attached to your body, you lean your back on the wall of the cell in relief. You’re alive. Banda hasn’t lied to you. Not even once. 

Then who died?

Anxiously, you wait inside your cell as you hear a cell door creak open. You’re not getting out there yet. Not without knowing who’s out there. 

A sinister laugh echoes through the halls and the cells. Matsushita. The Jack of Hearts. Has he thought he won? 

Then another door opens. You wait patiently, hoping it’s Chishiya. 

And then you hear that voice.

“I had a feeling you were the Jack of Hearts.”

Glee and relief rush through your veins and you smile with your head down. He’s alive, after all. That’s good.

“How did you—“ Matsushita is probably confused, thinking he successfully deceived everyone and won his own game. 

“You teamed up with Banda from the start and he’s a murderer so it just made sense,” Chishiya continues. 

“But Y/N teamed up with Banda too and she died,” he even tries to argue, thinking he really got you with his plan.

“Maybe. But Banda approached her first. You, however, approached him first and were moved by his little monologue. Still, I know you didn’t trust him. Not that fast.”

Then another cell opens. “Most people won’t even talk to a guy like me but you wanted to kill me. I could sense that in you right away.” It was Banda as you expected. “So I wanted to see if you were smart or just stupid or whether you were a true psychopath.”

“You mean…” You could sense the frightened tone in Matsushita’s voice, probably in disbelief. Still leaning against the wall and listening, you cross your arms and put a foot against the wall. You don’t want to come out yet. For some reason, it feels safer to be in isolation from those men.

“You thought you were controlling me this whole time but I was manipulating you into thinking that way. Ultimately, it was your huge superiority complex that gave you away.” 

Banda’s voice got clearer by the last sentence which means he’s right outside your door. 

“That kind of self-importance usually comes from being put into a special position—something that made you untouchable. In this case, it’s being chosen as the Jack,” Chishiya explains further.

And then your door opens, revealing you to the three men. You raise your head, finding that it was Banda who opened your cell. Banda gives you a proud look as you step out of your cell. Matsushita’s eyes widen at the sight of you alive and well. Behind him, Chishiya gives you a little wave. 

“Sorry. We already exchanged symbols before the three of us did.” You tell Matsushita. Betrayal doesn’t feel so great now, doesn’t it?

“You guys are wrong. Banda’s the Jack of Hearts!” Matsushita points at Banda, looking stressed and agitated.  

“Sorry, kid. It’s not Banda.” Yaba claims as he walks into the hall with his hands in his pockets. He must’ve slipped out of his cell as soon as the timer ended. 

Matsushita’s lips tremble at the sight of another player he failed to kill. “You and Kotoko were communicating. I told Kotoko her symbol and yet she still died. Which meant that Kotoko was being manipulated by someone other than me.” 

“Well then,” Matsushita nods, then points at Chishiya. “You should be accusing this guy.” 

“Whenever I went to the cafeteria, you and Kotoko would be there, getting snacks at the same time.” Chishiya is quick to counterpoint. A smile spreads across your face. So he did notice. “And every time, you’d get the exact same kind of snack. You and Kotoko were secretly communicating in the cafeteria.” 

“Both of you were just pretending that you were being controlled,” Chishiya concludes. 

“There were four different flavors of the snack,” you add, inserting your hands inside your jacket pockets and pulling out the empty packet of the biscuits you’ve eaten for Chishiya. “You would confirm your symbols by checking the packaging, using those snacks as a code with each other.”

You shifted your gaze from Matsushita to Chishiya and smiled sweetly, waving the empty packet. “I knew you’d caught on pretty quickly, Shuntaro.” 

Chishiya smiles back at you, raising a brow. “Yes. That’s how I got to know my symbol for this round. Thank you, Y/N.” 

“W-what? You two knew each other?” Matsushita is yet again shocked at another deception. Even Banda raises his brow, gazing from Chishiya to you.

“Kinda. It’s complicated.” You answer with a smirk and then shrug, tilting your head. 

Before the Jack of Hearts or Chishiya could react, Yaba speaks up again, reminding you to go back to the topic. “And then you told Kotoko to give me the wrong symbol. I really did trust her.” Yaba sighs. “Except at the end,” he finishes. He seemed really disappointed about it. Wow, he really planned to protect her till the end. It’s such a shame. But you understand Kotoko. You’d hate it too, the feeling of being controlled. 

Matsushita is short of breath because of his anger. “When did the four of you start working together?” 

“Well, the very first announcement said that this game is about how much we can trust one another. So we simply followed that principle.” As Yaba says that, Banda still has his eyes on you. 

“In order to gain someone’s trust, you can’t control, manipulate, or guide them in any way. You can’t brainwash them or hypnotize them, lie to them, or instill fear.” Yaba states what you basically said to Banda at the beginning of the game as he walks and stops beside you and Banda.

“It’s called equality,” he finishes his monologue.

“Wait a second, how can you be sure that it’s me? The Jack of Hearts could easily be any of you guys.” He looks at each and every one of you. However, nobody listens to his attempt to save himself. 

“Okay, maybe I did try to blame everything on you by setting you up, but look! That’s not enough. You don’t have proof that I’m the Jack of Hearts!”

“You sure about that?” Chishiya teases. 

“Huh?” Banda bites his teasing, confused.

“Just think about it. If they suspected that you were the Jack, then why did you survive the last round? Why didn’t Banda and Y/N lie? Tell you the wrong thing? The reason that you’re still alive is that you’re the Jack.” As he explains, Chishiya walks closer to him. Matsushita’s eyes were drowning in realization.

“These guys planned to keep you alive because they decided they wanna get information out of you,” he whispers but it’s still loud enough for all of you to hear. 

Matsushita turns to face the three of you in horror. Banda and Yaba begin to approach him. With Chishiya on his back and the two approaching him like predators targeting their prey, he was cornered. 

“Round 14. Start.”

Stupidly though, he decides to run. He turns and pushes Chishiya out of the way, running in the opposite direction. It made Chishiya stumble but he was able to balance himself and stay on his feet. Banda looks over at you and you sigh. 

You were obviously faster than the lanky arrogant guy, catching up with him before he could even get to half of the hall. You leap into the air and kick his back, sending his face to the floor. As he grunts in pain, you lift his head through his hair. 

You drag him across the floor as he panics and screams. Pushing one of the cell doors open, you throw him inside, his body hitting the ground with a loud thud. 

Yaba enters the cells first, taking off his coat and you stand on the side. Matsushita looks up at him, scared and weakened. Banda enters next, holding a shaver and a knife. You try not to react knowing what will happen next.

Banda gives you a smirk as you stand against the wall of the small confinement. “Thank you, darling.” He tilts his head while saying it and your face heats up, both a little frightened and surprised at the nickname.

“What are you doing?!” Matsushita cries.

Yaba began to tell him the reason why they were going to torture him. It was suddenly too crowded for four of you in one cell. Oh god. This is going to be gruesome. Do you have to stay here with them?

“Y/N,” Chishiya calls out your name from outside the cell. “Let’s go.” 

You look at him and his face doesn’t look like it’s going to accept any answer other than yes. You look over to Matsushita who was shaking in fear. His eyes met yours and they were pleading for you to help him. You huff and look away. 

“I’m sorry that we won’t be able to kill you.” Banda crouches down to become face-to-face with Matsushita. “But there are other ways to have fun.” 

As Bands holds the blade against his face, you take it as an opportunity to slip out of the cell. Matsushita’s screams fill the halls of the penitentiary. You and Chishiya stood side by side outside the cell, listening to whatever information Banda and Yaba were getting out of him.

The splurts of blood and the scream for help by Matsushita made you squirm as you sat on the floor against the wall with Chishiya standing by your side. They didn’t get much out of him. 

The torture lasted for an hour. 

When it was time to give his symbol, Matsushita immediately said the wrong answer. Then, the game was cleared. 

You and Chishiya walk together outside of the penitentiary, already having retrieved your weapons. It’s already morning. The two of you look up to the sky to see the Jack of Hearts’ blimp explode. This is the second game you’ve been in. How the hell did you even survive that without Chishiya telling you your suits? 

Banda and Yaba were walking out of the penitentiary side by side before you and Chishiya could even get far from the prison. 

Banda still had his eyes on you as he left Yaba and walked over in your direction. You stop, waiting for the serial killer, and see what he has to say. You grip the strap of the Katana’s sheath tighter to brace yourself for any attack, though you doubt that he would be able to attack you.

“My offer still stands.” 

You don’t know what it is that makes you so intriguing to Banda but you were grateful that it kept you alive throughout the game. However, no matter how odd it may sound, you don’t trust Banda as much as you did inside the game. Outside the game, he still looked like a serial killer who would kill you in the middle of the day. He also said that he only planned to keep you alive till the end of the game. So what about after that?

It did not appeal to you, the invitation to rule this world along with him. He wanted to be a citizen. You feel like Yaba does too. But you? You know you don’t want to. But what if Chishiya wants to? 

Before you could answer, Chishiya does it for you.

“No.” 

You whip your head to the guy behind you, with his chin up and hands inside his pockets. “She’s with me.” 

Banda doesn’t even look at him. His eyes are still on you. “She told me she likes her guys a little deranged.” 

“Exactly,” Chishiya answers again. “Key word: Little.” 

“And I’m assuming that’s you?” Banda finally looks at Chishiya, subtly sizing him up with his dark eyes and smirk. You don’t know what’s happening but you’re not a fan of it.

You step up in front of Chishiya, putting yourself in Banda’s line of sight. He shifts his eyes to you. You glare up at him through your lashes, brows furrowed and frowning like a lioness protecting her cub. It was a poisonous stare that made Banda’s lips curl up in amusement, the same strange gleam in his eyes sparkling like before.

There were no words you had to say as your eyes bore into his, fronting every confidence you have to make him get away from you and Chishiya without a fight. 

“Such a shame,” Banda says. “If you change your mind, or if anything happens and you’re alone, I’m sure we’ll find each other.”

You nod, doing anything for him to get out of your sight even with his frightening last statement. He leaves with Yaba. It seemed he made a companion for the rest of the games anyway. 

When you can no longer see their silhouette, you turn around to face Chishiya, he gives you an unamused look. You frown, already knowing what he’s thinking.

“You didn’t listen,” he scolded.

“You asked me to stay put!” You complain, throwing your arms around. “I can’t just do that.”

“So you go ahead and join a Hearts game? Really?” He starts to turn around and walk while speaking. You follow him hastily, grunting.

“I was supposed to go to a Spades game but the King of Spades showed up. You? What’s your excuse?” You cross your arms as you now walk side by side. 

Chishiya had his hands in his jacket’s pockets. You sigh when you hear his answer. “The King of Spades too, huh? He really doesn’t rest.” 

“Right. Do you think I can take him on?” You ask this time. If there weren’t guns involved. You think you could do it. Maybe. You don’t know. You’ve fought war veterans back in the underground. He seemed to be one of them. 

“No.” Chishiya didn’t even sugarcoat it.

“Then, we have to find Arisu and the others. It’d be better to try and take him down with numbers.” You think out loud.

“Just leave it to them, won’t you?” Chishiya suggests. This makes you frown once again. You really didn’t want to do that.

“No. I want to try and face him. The King of Spades.” You declared. 

Chishiya doesn’t answer anymore but you know he disapproves of it. You two were both doing it lately, just doing whatever the hell you wanted without caring about what the other might think. You’re starting to think that Borderlands is rubbing off on you.

And then you remember the game. 

“Hey, you asshole. You didn’t even try to partner up with me during the game. What if Banda lied to me?” You huff.

He sighs. “I did try to tell you every round. It was how many cookies I ate.”

Oh… Oh! That’s why he was eating four pieces at a time. 

“I slipped the meaning of each count in one of your favorite snacks and you took it. I thought you saw what I wrote. Idiot.” 

“What the…” you were in disbelief, a hand over your mouth. You stop in your tracks, pressing your lips together dramatically and lifting your head as if you were preventing yourself from crying. 

You point to Chishiya. “You’re telling me… I trusted Banda all throughout the game when I could have known my suit every round?”

Chishiya kept walking, not even bothering to look at your dramatic acting. However, you hear him mutter the word idiot one more time. 

You can’t believe this. He still looked out for you. How much of a dumbass are you to not see that fucking note he left in your snack?

“What was the offer Banda made you?” 

You know he’d grow curious about it. He was probably itching to ask about it the moment the murderer walked away. You’ll have to congratulate him for only asking about it now that you’ve found another place to stay at.

It was closer to the center of Tokyo. Now that you know that the King of Spades was roaming around the outskirts of the city, it’s safer for you to be here. Chishiya was right about his hunch as usual. If only you expected it to happen sooner.

“Banda… he wants to be a citizen.”

The thought of the psychopath still gives you goosebumps. He was scary. He’s the kind of man you’d rather avoid than beat up. You wonder what game he went to next. Did he go with Yaba? They seemed to get along after the game.

“And?” Chishiya presses.

“He thinks that I should be one too. He wanted me to join him in staying here. He said I was just like him.” It was funny. How could a psychopath compare himself to you? Somehow, it makes you think. Are you really just like him in some way?

“What a load of crap,” Chishiya muttered as he leaned on the wall of the room, arms crossed with his hood down. You’re currently staying at a condominium. Specifically, your home. 

You were curious if it was still here. Surprisingly, it was. So is this world really just a mirror of the real world, just abandoned? 

“What?” You barely heard what he said so you asked in case you heard it wrong. 

You’ve just finished cleaning it to be habitable to the best of your abilities. You’re just staying here for one night anyway. You just wanted to see it for a while.

“Why are we here?” Chishiya answers your question with another. 

You give him a glare before jumping on your bed. Your back hits the soft mattress, the exhaustion catching up with you. It just hit you that you were awake all night because of the game. “I missed my bed too much.”

“You can go back to your bed once you get back to the real world.” 

When I’m back in the real world, huh? To be honest, your time with Banda is on your mind. What if… There really is no end to this? You need to keep your mind open and have no expectations. You need to prepare yourself for anything.

“How optimistic of you, Shuntarou.”

“How the tables have turned.” Chishiya chuckles in a low voice. “Tell me, has Banda gotten into your head?” 

You scoff but let your silence answer his question. This made Chishiya sigh out loud. As you stare up at the ceiling, you feel the edge of the mattress sink, indicating Chishiya sat down with his back turned to you. 

“It’s just… What if this is really it? What if we can’t go back? What if this really ends when we die? Like Asaki and Matsushita?” You were thinking out loud and indulging Chishiya in it. You’re sure he’s listening. He always was. Even if sometimes you didn’t feel like he was. 

“He asked me why I want to live so much.” You were still staring up at the ceiling, your eyes focused on absolutely nothing. “And you asked me what was so valuable back in my life that I want to go back.”

You pause and think. 

Let’s say that somehow, you are able to go back and finally leave Borderlands? What happens when you’re back in the real world? It’ll be the same. High heels, full-course meals, boring meetings, attending parties, drinking wine. Then, once in a while, you’ll risk your life in underground fights. When you win, you’re back at the hospital, chasing around a guy that you’re not even sure if he wants you. 

And then there’s your father. 

Knowing that piece of shit, he most probably doesn’t care that you’re gone. He never wanted you anyway. You were just a product of an unwanted pregnancy with a whore who chased him around. Well, that’s what he told you multiple times. 

Your mother wasn’t a whore. She was just a girl in love. She loved him and he loved her too. However, he didn’t see a future with her because of her status. She was a nurse and he wanted someone better, someone more powerful. So, when he learned she was pregnant, he pushed her away. 

It broke her heart so much that it killed her months after you were born.

Your father regretted it so much that he loathed you. You were only a reminder of what he lost—of his mistakes. Still, your father never married and you don’t know why when he would insult you and your mother any time he could. You wish he just did so he could look at something else other than you. He took you in, gave you a roof over your head, and fed you but never raised you. You were raised by maids, tutors, and your grandparents who were just as cold but at least they cared more. 

There was never a person you could say that was your own just because they are. You never really felt alive. You had no family. Your friends never really felt like your friends. The money you spend away is never really something you earned. And the person that makes your heart race… was with you because he was after something else. 

Maybe Borderlands is better.

Here, Chishiya is something else. He was still the same, cruel and selfish. But here, you tasted his lips. You don’t know if that’s just him being affected by the apocalyptic situation you’re in but you were still happy it happened. 

You’re happy here because the people around you here, they’re reaching for you—actually you. They wanted you. They weren’t reaching for their past lover that birthed you, weren’t reaching for a few paid bottles of alcohol or food, weren’t reaching for social connections, weren’t reaching for wealth, weren’t reaching for a punching bag—weren’t reaching for anything at all but for some reason, their hands found you first. 

And so they settled. 

But here, you found Arisu and Usagi who relied on you and you relied on them. Here, you can feel that Chishiya cares about you. Here, he wore the jacket you gave him.

“Chishiya…” A tear fell out of your eye. You didn’t even realize that you were on the verge of crying. “I think I can accept it. If this is the end for me.” 

Ice-cold skin collides with your laid out hand on the bed and you almost jump in shock because of the temperature. 

Chishiya who still had his back turned to you, reached out for your hand… and held it. 

You can’t see his face, not when he wasn’t letting you. Chishiya never liked skinship. He was always eager to push you away whenever you tried to initiate it. You respected it though. You would always annoy him only with your words but you always remembered to keep your boundaries. 

But here he was, with his hand on top of yours. 

Honestly, it was more awkward than comforting. Your hand is frozen in place, unsure of what’s happening. The room was dim and you don’t have a clue what his face looked like right now. Never has Chishiya ever shown you empathy in words or in actions. This is the first time he has ever touched you like this.

“Shuntarou?” It was a whisper, calling out his attention and at the same time asking him why he was holding your hand. “What’s wrong?”

Like a feather, his touch is soft and fleeting. Within seconds after your question, his hand lifts off of you as if it was never really there. 

Before you know it, your bed dips on each side and you realize that Chishiya is now hovering over you with his hands on either side of your head and knees on either side of your legs. 

Your breath hitches and heat immediately rushes to your face at the intimate position. The air is suddenly heavier as the atmosphere changes. You see his face through the moonlight coming from the window. Up close, Chishiya’s face is clearer like you can memorize every detail and be able to draw it like a portrait artist with a photographic memory. 

His brow was slightly furrowed and his lips were parted slightly. He was staring you down right in the eye like he was trying to say something. They were blazing as if he was raging, his mind boggled into a million words but he couldn't speak of it.

You blink, confused as your gaze fleets to his lips, remembering your previous kisses. 

And then his gaze finally softens and a hand that was digging the mattress beside you moves to your face. It caresses your cheek and you involuntarily lean into his hold. Then, it moves up to your head, pushing your hair back away from your face so he could see it more clearly.

Your eyes sparkle in front of him. The untied lower half of his white hair is falling in your direction. You always loved the length of his hair. Sometimes, you would crave to run your hands through them. However, that was just a fantasy before.

Longing. Comfort. Lust. Which one of these three is he trying to say to you? 

His hand stops on your cheek, wiping away the tears with his thumb. Then, his hand moves to your lips, thumb pressing into the soft parted flesh, caressing it. It stops in the middle and presses further. 

You decide to take things further, the hell with whatever he was trying to do. You parted your lips and encircled his thumb with your mouth as you stared up at him intensely. Your wrapped lips suck him in and you see his brows rise and eyes darken. You let your tongue run through his finger, sucking like you would another part of him. And finally, with a loud pop, you let his thumb go. 

For a few seconds, all you could do is stare at each other with overwhelming lust in your eyes. Whatever the conversation was earlier, long forgotten. Right now, the need for each other is heightened, your core being awakened. His mouth finds yours immediately, smashing one another with a burning passion. His hips lower and you feel the hardening of his center on your abdomen. You lift your hips up as you gasp into the kiss, feeling the pressure of his clothed cock against your pulsing heat. Wanting to feel more of him, you grind yourself up to him once more. 

As you do that, Chishiya pulls away from your mouth, buries his head on your neck, and moans. Oh, you were going to be addicted to that sound. You want to hear more of it. 

“Do you want me, Shuntarou?” He was still littering kisses on your neck as you asked that question. This a bold question. What are you going to do if he says no? 

And yet he doesn’t answer. He continues licking and biting your neck. However, his hand rises to your cheek and then he does it. Two taps with three fingers. The same as he did that one morning after sharing your first kiss. You hadn’t minded it then, thinking it was just some cute gesture that he’d do instead of showing affection to you. Well, it is. But it’s more than that. Specifically, you don’t know what it means. But it seemed like a yes. You just had to be sure.

“Tell me.” You hold his hand that was holding your face.

He lifts his head that was buried in your neck, finally looking at you in the eyes. “Yes.”

Then he closes the distance between you once again. You surrendered yourself to him completely, with him pulling you in with his hands beside your face. You grasp the sides of his shirt, crumpling it as you try to pull it up, wanting to feel his bare skin. He smirks against your lips, pulling away and kneeling on the bed. He pulls his shirt over his head, revealing his lean body to you. 

You sit up, immediately drawn to his body. He lets you eye himself, picking up your hand and placing it on his chest. You look up at him through your lashes with enlarged pupils, pulse racing, and mouth agape. He looks down at you with equally as much emotion. You know this through the feeling of his heart beating in his chest. Chishiya wasn’t much one to show off his body. You admit that he wasn’t the most athletic but he did exercise as much as he needed. He wasn’t as fit but he was healthy.

You feel his body through your hands, running them up and down his chest and stomach, memorizing the feeling of his skin against your palms. You rarely see him topless so you wanted to remember this. He bends down to capture your lips again, caressing your cheek gently then down to your neck, to your shoulders, and then your waist. 

You gasp against his lips as he lifts and spins you around, sitting you on his lap. You’re on top of him this time, legs folded on his sides while your heat directly sits on his crotch. 

His lips are back on your neck, sucking and marking them. You rest your hands on his shoulders as he continues his attacks of kisses on your neck. His hands on your waist go lower and under the fabric, goosebumps forming from his touch. His hands roam around your skin under the shirt, inches away from the underside of your breasts. When he finally feels them, he freezes.

He pulls away from your neck and with a frown, he asks. “You aren’t wearing a bra?” He seemed a little pissed.

“Who the hell wears a bra to sleep?” You ask, dumbfounded and confused as to why this is relevant. 

“You should always be ready to run.” He complains like an idiot, brows furrowed. “Do you always sleep like this here?” He raises a brow. 

“Of course not, you idiot. Only with you.” 

After you said that, the corner of his lips tug into a satisfied tight-lipped smile. You smirk back, hands on the hem of your shirt. You pull the clothing off of you, exposing your braless breasts to him. The cold air hitting your skin hardens your nipples instantly, catching Chishiya’s eye in the process. 

Most of the time, you feel comfortable with your body. You like to think you looked sexy with your well-built body. Then again, Chishiya has never looked at you like this—not in this context. 

It made you feel a bit insecure, not being one of the girls with perfect, unbruised skin and thin delicate bodies. 

You cower in his gaze, not quite covering yourself but looking away to avoid seeing his reaction further. He notices this and uses two fingers on your chin to bring your face back in his direction. 

“Look at me,” he orders. With glossy eyes filled with want and lust, you stare at his eyes, the beauty mark under his right eye, and his delicate lips. “Only look at me.” He repeats himself. 

You nod, holding his gaze for a while before he leans to pepper kisses on your chest, not quite reaching where you want him most. His hands were on your ribs, thumbs tracing the underside of your breasts. Then his lips finally circle the curve of your breasts, sucking the skin and marking them as he did with your neck. 

“Shuntarou.” You were pleading, whining, and asking him to place his mouth or even just his hands where you really wanted him to. You jolt when his hand comes up to pinch your nipple, earning a moan from you. 

“Patience,” he reminds you.

He continued licking your skin, kissing your neck and chest alternately while holding one of your boobs in hand, massaging them. Your sensitive nipples were aching to be touched. You badly wanted to take his head in your hands and bury his face in your chest so he could smother them with his mouth.

When his tongue licks one nipple like a kitten as if testing the waters, you shudder. A soft whine slips from your mouth, not being able to control yourself and place a hand on the back of his hair as he fully envelopes his lips on your nipple, sucking it ferociously. 

Throwing your head back in pleasure, you grind your crotch on his hardening one. The friction of your clothed regions goes directly to your clit and now you were sure that you were soaked. Deciding you absolutely wanted more, you place both your hands on his shoulder and ground yourself on his clothed cock repeatedly while he flicks, licks, and sucks your hardened buds. He was eager to taste every inch of your chest and you were drowning in absolute bliss.

Hands shot down to your torso, stopping you from your back-and-forth motion. You frown as he pulls away and stares at you with a smirk.

Before you can protest, he flips you over again, earning a squeal from you. He captures your lips again in a desiring kiss and your arms instantly wrap around his neck, making him press an arm to the mattress by the side of your head. 

His other hand is still at your hips, thumb circling the skin just above the band of your shorts. It inches closer and closer until a finger is hooked under the soft material, teasing but not pulling it down quite yet. His hand goes under the material, feeling your underwear with his palm. You involuntarily clench as his palm goes directly to your clothed clit.

You feel him smirk in between the kiss as he feels your wetness, encouraging him to nibble on your lips. You were in dire need of him. You needed him to touch you, to mark you, to fuck you. 

“Please,” you plead, breaking the kiss and looking up at him with hazy lustful eyes. 

“Are you sure?” He asks, his hand going still under your shorts. You nod almost immediately and vocalize your consent. 

He doesn’t wait for a second after he hears it and slides your shorts and panties down your legs. You slightly shiver when the cold air hits your bare center, feeling the wetness dripping from it. His hands parted your legs so he could see more of you, making you feel a little more conscious than usual with a rose tint on your cheeks. You were completely bare in front of him while he was still clothed from the waist down. You should be a little shy but you weren’t, something about the dynamic feels more erotic.

Chishiya’s hands are moving slowly from your thighs but not quite getting where you want them. Instead, his fingers dig into the flesh of your thighs, massaging them with a purpose: to tease you and make you wetter.

When he is satisfied, he bends downwards. Oh. You didn’t expect this.

He licks one languid stripe from your hole to your clit, gathering the wetness on his tongue to which he swallows with a hum, his cat-like eyes fluttering open after. You swallow the lump in your throat as you stare at him in the eye, wide-eyed at the erotic scene that Chishiya played out for you. 

“Delicious,” he comments before diving in for more. Your hands immediately shoot down to make a home in his white hair as his head is buried between your legs, your back arching in pleasure as you gasp. 

He presses open-mouth kisses to your clit and you don’t know what to do with yourself, feeling lost in the immense pleasure he was giving you. You tug at the strands of his hair but he doesn’t seem to mind, his ministrations to your cunt the only thing he’s focusing on. 

Chishiya was like a man who suffered drought for years with the way he was eating your pussy. Half of his face is probably covered with your juices. You were only seeing the mop of hair between your legs but you can definitely feel his face mold against your heat. 

He hums as he eats you out, sending vibrations and shock waves to your spine. You love Chishiya and you admit you thought about him naked from time to time. You also fantasized about this happening once or twice but hell, you didn’t know that it’d be the first thing he’d do and be so good at it. 

He begins to catch on soon that it was clit stimulation that sends you closer and closer to that aimed high. The pressure begins to build in your abdomen, making you mewl and moan out his name to continue with whatever he was doing. It was a bit embarrassing how fast he could make you reach this point in only a few minutes. Was it because he was really good or was it because you held feelings for him that you hadn’t for anyone else? 

The sound filling the room is obscene, his tongue lapping your wetness echoing your bedroom walls. Your clit is throbbing underneath his tongue. 

The tension building up in your stomach rises with every flick of his tongue on your bundle of nerves and you feel it closer than ever to your most wanted high. 

“Chishiya,” you sob, fingers tugging his hair. “Baby, please…”

The nickname slipped out in the midst of your begging. What’s funny is you don’t even know what you’re begging for. For him to not stop or for him to make you come already? Maybe it was both.

“I know,” Chishiya murmurs against your cunt and gives your clit one extended suck before practically lifting your bottom half from the bed and digging his head further into your pussy.

He’s quicker than ever and you can’t not appreciate seeing Chishiya’s blatant display of eagerness and lust. His nose is pressed against your pelvis, lapping up your cunt as if it’s the last thing he’ll do. Your wetness is dripping down your thighs, pussy providing more for him like a water source. 

“Oh, ngghh… Shuntaro… Yes. Fuck!” You moaned incoherently while your hips involuntarily grind against his face. He doesn’t mind, his hot appendage flicking his tongue against your swollen clit and heating you up further.

You’re going insane, not knowing where to put your hands. They went from his hair to grasping the sheets, to feeling every inch of your naked skin, to groping your tits and pinching your nipples, to pulling your hair, and then back to his mop of hair between your legs. You were an absolute mess and it was all because of Chishiya’s mouth on your pussy.

You were a mess and your mind is blank, void of any thoughts except of the knowledge that you were about to cum. Your stomach is unwinding at a breakneck speed, your breathing heavy as Chishiya is working endlessly to get you there. He pushes and pushes until—

And then you came.

Your legs clasped around Chishiya’s head as you came, your moans in the form of screams. You can’t hear anything, too indulged in the sinking pleasure and gasping for air. He was still there with you, continuing to eat your pussy like you weren’t cumming messily under him.

You were trying to catch your breath when it subsided, finally releasing Chishiya from your legs by parting them. He gazes up at you to admire your face which was cherry red and wet with tears you didn’t even know were there.

You give him a lopsided smile, eyes content and chest warm. 

You pull him from below you and he lets himself be carried to your face, lips meeting in a soft kiss. It’s a sight to behold, half of his face covered in your juices. It is seldom that Chishiya is caught in a mess and right now, it was all because of you.

His fingers are on your core again, not even letting your sensitivity subside. You don’t complain though, excited with what more he could give you.

He spreads your wetness around your pussy, careful enough to go around your sensitive clit to not hurt you. Your tongue explores his mouth, tasting yourself in the process. 

His finger is prodding your hole, teasing the tip in and out or circling it. When he finally enters you with a finger, you gasp. He was already knuckle deep, not pulling it out but curling that finger until the pad of his finger felt that spongy spot inside you. 

You grasp the bicep of the arm that was beside your head. He leans down to suck your nipple again, making you arch your back again. He adds another finger, navigating your pussy as if wanting to learn every crevice of your cunt. 

He pistons his fingers in your pussy while overstimulating your sensitive nipples. The pleasure was immense and you abruptly sat up when his pace went faster, hitting that certain spot inside you that’s an instant gateway to your edge. 

Contrasting your loud moans and constant citing of Chishiya’s name, your partner is not as audible as you expected. Unlike your other partners before, he’s more on actions than words, making sure you were enjoying, checking every sign of your pleasure or discomfort in your face. 

He wraps an arm around your back, supporting your upper body slightly closer to his as his other hand is knuckles deep inside your cunt. 

You were mumbling incoherencies as his fingers repeatedly hit that spot while his mouth worked expertly on your tits. 

“Again,” he orders. “Cum for me again.”

He inserts another finger as he says that and the stretch burns so good. You often dreamed about his hands. God, his hands. Delicate and well-controlled. He was a doctor, after all. You don’t forget how in med school, you’d watch his hands as he demonstrates something and your mind would trail off somewhere. Now, those same fingers are where you want them to be. 

What else could you do but comply?

Your orgasm gushes out and takes you off guard. His fingers don't stop, each thrust of his fingers making your cunt squelch. The sound is lewd and you don’t think you’ve been pleasured like this your whole life. It was so unfair. How is Chishiya handsome, intelligent, and good at sex? 

You were panting when you came down from your high, staring at Chishiya with spent and glossy eyes.

“W-what the fuck,” you breathed out, unbelieving what just happened. He just made you cum two times and you haven’t even seen his dick. 

“Are you tired? We can stop here.” He asks you out of concern. You’re already vigorously shaking your head as an answer. 

“No. I want to feel you,” you say while palming his erection over his pants. “Want to taste you too.” 

“You don’t have to.” He was serious about it, eyes soft and genuine. Men would often want a reciprocation when it comes to oral sex, that is, if they even gave one in the first place. But Chishiya, this man right here, the man you adored since the first day, he was different.

“I want to,” you say before wrapping your arms around him and pressing your lips against his. You pushed his body to lay down on his back and you trail your kisses from his lips to his neck to his chest and down to his pants. His legs spread, lying comfortably on the mattress.

Unlike Chishiya who liked to take it slow, you were impatient, tugging down his pants and briefs in one motion before completely removing them and throwing them somewhere on the floor. His cock springs out and it was already hard and leaking at the tip. You look at it with anticipation, basically salivating as you were eager to taste him.

You wrap your hand around the base and licked the tip with your tongue, making him hiss. You were sure to taste him first before anything else then you moaned as he did when he first tasted you, looking up at him dirtily through your lashes.

His eyes were shut close and his jaw was clenched, basking in the second of pleasure. You wanted more from him—to make him a mess under you as he did you.

You spread his pre-cum with your thumb and then spat, using both as lube as you slide your hand up and down his shaft. His face contorts into pleasure and hums. 

Finally, you wrap your lips around his tip, swirling and sucking it as if it’s the last meal you’ll have. Chishiya was of decent length but the girth—oh god, the girth. It suddenly made sense why he used three fingers on you earlier. 

You push your head down on him, taking him little by little. If he was good at it, then you’ll show him how great you can be at it too. You bobbed your head back and forth, taking more and more of him at every thrust. Your hands massage his balls as you suck his cock. 

Chishiya’s head is thrown back when you glance up, his beautiful neck on display for you. This only motivates you more, fastening your pace, not minding as lewd sounds come out of you as you choke and gag on his cock.

Your eyes stay on him, waiting for his eyes to meet yours again. And it does. He glances down at you, teeth clenched together in an attempt to strain a groan from him. “Fuck,” he hissed.

You were probably a messy sight to behold. Tears on your blushing face, saliva leaking out of the corner of your mouth, and all high on pleasure and lust. Despite this, he looks at you in pure adoration in contrast to the sinful situation. 

Freeing his cock from your mouth with a little ‘pop’, you breathe and give him a smile before sticking out a flattened tongue and running your tongue from the base to the tip. You take him in your mouth again, humming to create vibrations as you swirl your tongue and bob your head ferociously. 

And then you hear it. He moans and mumbles your name. 

You didn’t know that he wanted you to stop, taking the sinful sounds coming out from him as motivation to make him come. It was turning you on so much, having such a man writhing with the way you suck his cock. He practically pulls your head away from his cock for you to realize. “Need to be inside you,” he explains in a rush. Once again, he flips the two of you over. There was no warning, no second to prepare.

In one swift motion, his cock enters you, taking his cock inch for inch. You were so wet that he entered with ease, making you gasp and hold onto his shoulders for support. He doesn’t move for the first few seconds, taking in your warmth and tightness. His eyes are closed and his brows are furrowed when his entire length is inside you.

“Shuntarou,” you mewl. Just as you thought, he was on the thicker side, filling your cunt so well. 

“Feel so good,” he mumbles against your neck.

The warmth goes straight to your chest, an unfamiliar feeling during sex. His cock is nestled inside your warmth but you wanted him to move so you grind yourself against him. The sudden friction makes him groan, digging his arms into the mattress as he raises himself just above your face. And then he starts to move.

He pulls out until just the tip of his cock is inside then he slams it back inside again, your sensitivity from previous orgasms doubling the pleasure and making you moan out curses. He starts building the pace, cock thrusting in and out of your heat. It stretches your cunt, every pound hitting your g-spot which he found with ease. Your body jostles with every snap of his hips.

You wanted to keep your eyes open and see every slight change on his face. The way his brows furrow, the way creases form on his forehead, the way his lips part slightly, and the way he pants. But it was all too good.

“Fuck! Oh shit. Please don’t stop!” You plead with shut eyes, tears leaking out of the sides of them as you clench your pussy just as he grinds his cock right at the spongy area of your cunt.

“All mine,” he grunts. “You’re all mine.” It was so lewd and vulgar. You were so wet and loud that you were sure that even the mattress is now soaked with your wetness, your sheets forever ruined. 

“Yes,” you croak. “Only yours.” Your words give him some kind of encouragement, his pace going faster than ever. You’ve never seen Chishiya this energetic. He’s pounding into you with reckless abandon, his cock hitting all your nerves as you wail in ecstasy. 

You both were chasing your high like madmen, you thrusting up your hips to meet his rhythm. Your cunt was clenching around his length and he let out a guttural growl every time you did it. 

“On your knees,” he commands as he pulls out of you.

You get on your knees, hands digging into the mattress to support yourself. He hisses behind you, cock entering you once again in one swift motion. Your back instantly arches and his hands fly down to your shoulder and waist. The hand on your shoulder slides to your neck and then to your throat, wrapping around it lightly. You turn your head to him, catching his smirk as he looks at you while squeezing your hips. He starts moving his hips, cock hitting deeper than ever. He has you rolling your eyes to the back of your head, his hand gripping the sides of your neck and adding to the haziness of your brain. 

You turn your head again, watching as he captivatingly watches his cock move in and out of you. It was good. So good. But it was painstakingly slow.

“Faster,” you beg, voice a little coarse. He complies, grip on your hip and throat tightening to anchor himself as he rams his hips into you faster and deeper, fucking you silly. 

“Fuck!” You scream out, starting to get high on the bliss the sex was giving you. Your back curves to him as he finds his rhythm and thrusts in fast motion. 

The hand on your hips slides down to your pussy, his finger stroking your clit in swift circles. You scream, his dick hitting that sweet spot inside your and his fingers overstimulating your bundle of nerves.

“Chishiya, I’m—“ Your voice hitches, putting all your strength on keeping you steady even if your whole body is turning into jelly. You were completely engulfed in his touches.

“Come,” he commands for the second time. For the third time that day, the coil inside you snaps, your orgasm coming down at you in full force. Loud and messy. Just as you are. 

The fuzzy feeling rushes through your body, making your cunt tighten at your orgasm. Chishiya pounds harder to chase his own. Both of his hands snap back to your hips to avoid hurting you with overstimulation. His hips were stuttering, a sign that he was close too as your pussy cages him. 

“Where?” He asked out loud while you were still coming down from your high. Your mind was hazy but it was clear enough to know what you wanted. “Inside,” you blubber. “I have an IUD.” 

Just like that, he spills inside of you. Underneath him, you were a sobbing mess, sensitive to having three consecutive orgasms. 

You take a glance at the man, his brows were knitted in pleasure, a few strands of his white hair sticking to his face. He was incredibly beautiful. Chishiya was a ravishing man and he just unveiled you. You wouldn’t want more for a while.

“Fuck,” he pants. His hands fall down from your hips and to his sides. He keeps his cock inside you for a few seconds after he comes down from his high before pulling out. Immediately, your body collapses on the mattress, your mixed juices spilling out of your pussy as your muscles all come loose. 

With your head turned to the side and buried in the pillows, you can’t see Chishiya behind you. However, you do feel his hands come down to your ass as he spreads them apart, most probably watching his cum inside you. He collects them with his fingers, the tips of them brushing your sensitive clit in the process and making you shudder. Then his fingers enter your cunt again, pushing your mixed cum into you again. It was so erotic and vulgar, his fingers just ruining your oversensitive cunt. You squirm, the pleasure all too much. 

“Ah…” you moan weakly. Chishiya chuckles and pulls his fingers out of you, the dip of his knees on the bed disappearing and you hear his steps on the floor. You were too tired to look at him but you do hear the water running in the bathroom for a few seconds before his steps return to the bed.

You jolt at the cold and damp towel meeting the skin of your thighs. He wipes you gently, hands working in favor of your sensitivity. He was so gentle that it almost felt relaxing. You let him do what he was doing and close your already droopy eyes.

When he’s done, you feel the bed dip beside you. Your hands immediately find his chest even with your eyes already closed, pulling yourself closer to him as you let yourself finally fall asleep.

When you woke up, Chishiya was gone. It made you nervous, finding the side of his bed cold and another canned food on the top of your bedside table. You reach for it, sighing and reading the label before putting it back down again.

You sat up, your blanket falling down from your body and exposing your naked breasts. It suddenly felt too cold and you notice the clean folded clothes sitting by your blanket-clad feet. 

You get out of bed and decide to shower first. After cleaning yourself, you went back to your bedroom and started dressing up. Starting with the fresh underwear, you slip the panties on first and then the sports bra after. As the band below the sports bra snaps to your skin, you hear Chishiya speak.

“You’re awake,” he walks into the room and sits casually on the chair in front of your desk as if you weren’t half naked—as if you haven’t just had sex. 

“Where were you?” You snapped, not looking at him and taking the yoga pants in your hands. You start slipping your legs into it as you wait for an answer. 

“The King of Diamonds. Registration will start later.” You froze.

The two of you just survived a game together, and now he still wants to join another? Well, he is Chishiya after all. What were you thinking? Just because you two had sex, he’ll magically change overnight? You sigh, pulling the pants to your waist. “Okay,” you reply. 

“Okay?” His voice sounded intrigued. He didn’t expect you to just agree like that.

“Okay,” you repeat, still not looking at him.

You sigh, grabbing the black dry-fit shirt. You pull it over your head as you speak. “I can’t really stop you, can I?” Besides, he hasn’t played a Diamonds game and you know he wanted to. 

You pull the hem of the shirt, all done and dressed up. You know he didn’t want you coming to that game. And to be frank, you were all done with it. You had plenty of days on your visa and there were only a few games left. You have to put your trust in Chishiya. And if you will, a Diamonds game is where you trust him the most. He can do it, right?

“I’ll wait for you here,” you continue. “But only if you promise you’ll come back.” 

You finally meet his eyes, staring at you intently. He was wearing his favorite white jacket, an oversized shirt, and pants. He was all ready. It made you sick how he did it all while you were sleeping soundly. He was to leave you. Did he fuck you because of this? 

He stands up from his seat, walks over to you, and shortens the distance between you. He was inches away from you, pushing your hair to the back of your ear. 

“I promise,” he answers.

You nod with a hard stare. “I won’t join any more games if I don’t have to and if you don’t come back, I’ll leave and start looking for the others. Deal?” You ask him, brows raising.

He was quiet for a few seconds as if he was contemplating an answer or if there was something else behind your words. But he answers anyway. “Deal.”

When you were content, you sat back down on the bed. “You haven’t eaten,” Chishiya observes as he stares at the untouched food beside you. “Not in the mood,” you reply blankly. 

He hums, unconvinced by your answer. He sits down beside you on the bed. “Is this because of last night?” He asks you. So now he brings up what happened?

“No,” you lied through your teeth, aware that you were convincing no one but yourself. His kisses and now sex. Was this just how Chishiya did it? Just hook up and then go on as if nothing happened? Maybe that worked for any random person he did it with but he couldn’t do that to you. Not you. 

He sighs, putting his hands in his pockets. He most likely knows that you were lying. “I didn’t have any motive if that’s what you’re thinking.” He takes a glance at you while he says that then looks in the other direction again. 

“It’s hard to be sure with you,” you reply with a straight face but it comes out sadder than you intended.

He doesn’t answer for a moment, thinking. “I know,” he says. “I know.” His voice equals your saddened tone. 

“Can’t we just be sure? I need you to be sure about me.” Chasing him around, you didn’t get tired of that. You always expected to get nothing in return. You thought that if you do someday get a reaction from him, you’d be content but unfortunately, that wasn’t the case. Him reciprocating your feelings without actually confirming anything, it hurts more than anything. 

He doesn’t answer and tears well up in your eyes. You hold out your hand, the back of it touching your thighs. “This is hard for me too, you know?” You are your mother’s daughter, you realized. Loving a man that doesn’t even want you. You liked to think that Chishiya isn’t like your father but who knows? It’s hard for you to love too. But you’re trying. It just so happened that your heart chose him. It’s unfortunate but you’re hopeful. 

“I know,” he answers the same thing. 

“You know an awful lot of things,” you snort. 

“I do,” he replies quickly.

You turn your head away from him even if you weren’t previously looking at him to express your aggravation. You don’t say anything else, sitting with him in silence and letting your anger marinate into something else.

“I do know a lot of things,” he continues a little later than a conversation should. “I know everything about you. More than anyone else I know. Your every habit. Your every favorite thing. Your thoughts. Your likes. Your dislikes. I know all of them. It’s not because I’m simply smart. I wouldn’t remember if it’s anyone else.”

A hand on your chin gently moves your face towards him, making you come face to face with him, faces only inches away from each other. His eyes were sparkling in the most expressive way they could be, boring into yours with a purpose.

“I know,” he says again. “I know because it’s you.”

A tear falls from your eye. Then from the other. Then another. Then another until they fall like waterfalls. He captures your lips into a kiss while holding your face, wiping your tears away with his thumbs.

“Stop crying,” he whispers when he pulls away. “You look ugly when you cry.” But like a child, you cry harder, hands covering your face. Chishiya chuckles, pulling your hands away from your face and you let him. 

You wrap your arms around him. Words were still unsaid between the two of you, those three words that hang around your heart for years. You wanted to say them in case you don’t see each other again but you were scared. Why? You don’t even know.

“I—“ you stutter. “I have something to say to you when you come back.” He hums again and you feel the vibration of his throat in your touching bodies. 

“So come back, okay?” You sniff.  Chishiya exhales, bringing a hand on your back to tap it two times. “I will,” he promises again. “But don’t go out. Just wait for me. I’ll come back.” 

What else were to do but trust him? 

Chishiya didn’t come back. 

The King of Diamonds blimp had fallen but there was no sight of the white-haired man. Agitated and feeling your body waste away inside the waste of a room he left you in, you worry for your acquaintance. Has he really lost the game? 

No, impossible. It can’t be, right? This is Chishiya we’re talking about. Will he really lose a game—a diamond game out of all suits? This is unfair. You’ve kept your promise. You didn’t join any games and thankfully, there wasn’t any sign of the King of Spades. So why isn’t he back yet?

Your mind goes back and forth. Will you look for him and go outside or will you stay here, patiently waiting for him to come back? If you do go out, you’re breaking his promise and your trust in him but if you don’t go out, you think you’ll go insane out of worry. And what if the worst thing has already happened? Will you just waste away here in this room?

You decided that you won’t wait for him anymore. 

Going outside, you mindlessly walk the streets of London without any destination, occasionally stopping by some places where you can loot some supplies and avoiding any people that come into view if you don’t know them. 

As you are nearing Shibuya, an alarming sound pierces your ears.

Gunshot? But that’s just one. If it were the King of Spades, it should be much louder and followed by more running and bullets. You were near the main roads so maybe more people are there?

What if it’s Chishiya? or Arisu? Usagi? Anyone at this point. Just so you weren’t alone. You groan. You won’t allow yourself to be seen. If it’s no one you know, you can just walk away and run in another direction. 

After you’ve decided, you begin to stealthily walk in the direction of the fire. As you hide from car to car, more gunshots come followed by a little bit of shouting. There were arguments, maybe. Really? In the middle of having only two games left? Are they really going to kill themselves when we’re so near our goal? Sighing, you pick up your handgun and prepare to use it.  

Then it was quiet again as you neared Shibuya crossing. You were maybe two or three blocks away. Who could they be? You hope it’s not anyone you know. Wait, is that? 

That shaggy hair and lanky tall build. That’s Arisu holding a shotgun. And who’s that on top of a car wrapped up like an onigiri—oh. That’s fucking Niragi. He’s aiming at someone. If Arisu is here then that means? Your eyes trail to where the gun is pointed and you spot the short-haired girl in a red athletic tank top. Your eyes watered in shock and happiness. You finally found them. 

However, that bastard Niragi is just a pain in the ass until the end, isn’t he? That fucking asshole. Speeding up your pace, you raise your gun without being heard. Your eyes were focused on Niragi and how his finger is on the trigger. He’s gonna shoot. You’re gonna have to do it fir—.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

It was his shot that rang first. Then yours. Then Arisu’s that sent him flying off the car. Aware of another shot that wasn’t coming from him but his back, Arisu turns around hastily with his gun pointed at you. You immediately raise your hands, showing your defenselessness in order for him to stand down his guard.

His eyes immediately softened when they saw you, putting down his gun and exclaiming your name in relief. “Y/N!”

You run towards him and pat his shoulder before screaming Usagi’s name and running in her direction.But when your eyes shift to where she was, Usagi was still on the floor, and in front of her was… what? Where did he come from? Why are there blood stains on his white jacket? In two different areas, too? What? No. What’s going on? 

“Chishiya!” Usagi’s scream was piercing as his body falls on the road. Arisu goes over to them and Usagi presses a hand on his wound in order to control the bleeding. “Why?!”

You, however, stood frozen in place, just a few steps away from the three. Usagi began asking him why he saved her. It was indeed odd. Even you know that it’s out of character for him. You’d never thought you’d see the day that Chishiya would take a bullet for someone. He always argued that if a person could take a bullet for someone, they would have enough time to move away from the shot. 

Whatever they were talking about, you tune out. You couldn’t hear anything. You feel like your brain shut down and all you could feel inside your body is raging fire. Your heart has stopped taking in anything, overflowing with exuding unexplainable emotion. 

You had shut down.

“I wanted to do something that was a bit out of character.” Chishiya chuckles as he sputters out the words behind the pain. He sighs. “I know it’s thanks to Y/N and the people I met here. Like Kuzuryu. Arisu, too.”

Usagi and Arisu were worried and Arisu even took a glance at you, wanting to check on you as you stared down at Chishiya with a lifeless expression. There were no tears in your eyes, only an unmatchable coldness burning them. No emotions. Your shoulders were relaxed and the lids of your eyes looked as if they were too heavy to keep open.

However, he focuses back on the man dying in front of him. “Hey. What were you gonna say before?!” He asks, pertaining to a few minutes before Niragi went and interrupted them.

Chishiya takes his time to take a breather before answering. “Honest people always seemed pretty stupid to me. I always loved messing with people who try too hard at life. I hated selflessness.” He pauses to breathe again, his voice raspier as his eyes stare up at the sky. “It’s probably because I was jealous. They all had something I was missing.”

He stares at Arisu for a second before looking straight ahead again. “It was like they could always see what a pathetic and small-minded person I really was.” Then his head turns to you who wasn’t even looking at him. You were gone inside yourself. “I was always afraid.” That I wouldn’t be enough for her too, is what he thought as he saw you. 

“I understand you,” Arisu responds, genuinely with a nod. He doesn’t say it just because the man lying down on the ground is in a critical condition. He does understand what he’s saying and what he means. “I thought you would,” Chishiya replies with a bittersweet tone. 

Usagi and Arisu look down at Chishiya with pity and understanding. They were betrayed by this man. He used and manipulated them in his favor. He had hurt Y/N a lot. But this man… is just a flawed human being. While that doesn’t excuse his actions, they do understand him a little bit better. They wished that somehow and one day, he can change and be a better man. 

Usagi looks up at the woman standing quietly in front of them, her eyes widening at her lifeless state. “Y/N?” Arisu follows Usagi’s eyes and hurries to his feet, about to check on their friend who looked terribly off. They’d never seen her like this before. Hell, Chishiya has never seen her like this before.

“I guess hunting rifles aren’t as deadly as you thought.” Grunting at hearing the voice of his enemy, Arisu rushes to where he fell, ready to shoot him once again if he makes a wrong move. However, a hand on his chest stops him and he looks at the person with wide eyes. 

Your eyes were still lifeless and blank. You didn’t even look at him, staring at Niragi’s body who was sprawled on the cement road next to the car. He was still laughing, his breathing uneven with all his injuries and shots. 

“Whatever you do, don’t make me out to be the villain.” The man was dying, it was clear to anyone. But you didn’t seem convinced. “If there were seven billion of me, you guys would all be villains too. You’re pretty lucky you know. You guys are the majority.” 

Arisu lowered his gun, knowing that the man had forfeited. His bloodied burnt face and the bullets in his body are enough for him to not be able to move. However, as Arisu looked at you, you didn’t look like you cared. “Y/N!” He couldn’t do anything but scream your name as you rush to Niragi, kicking his body, and sending him rolling on the ground. 

Niragi coughs out blood. Plenty of it. He doesn’t even try to move or run. He couldn’t possibly do it. He was too weak and injured. You pick up the man by his hair, lifting his body off the ground. With blaring eyes, you throw a powerful punch across his face. His body falls to the ground again. 

“What’s your pr—,” he tries to ask but you weren’t hearing anything. You pick him up by his hair again. But this time, you punch the other side of his jaw. He falls to the ground again and sputters out blood, spitting crimson red and a tooth.

Arisu and Usagi were too stunned to move or speak. You were merciless as you beat up Niragi, punching him multiple times and kicking his wounds repeatedly as Niragi cries out in pain. You weren’t hearing any of his protests. You were completely out of it. Arisu could see that something was wrong. He has never seen you like this before.

From the ground, Chishiya looks up at Usagi who was still pressing down his gun wound. “She’ll kill him,” he tells her, implying that the pair should stop you.

It’s not that he didn’t want Niragi to die. He wasn’t the judge of that, he learned. He also didn’t say that Niragi doesn’t deserve to be beaten by you. He most understandably deserved it. However, he knows that if you killed him, it'll leave a mark on you. You were a fighter but never a killer. 

Usagi and Arisu pull you away from a curled up on the floor Niragi despite your protests and attempts to pull yourself free from their holding. You began screaming, grunting, and raging like a bull. 

“Y/N! Get a hold of yourself! Please!” 

Usagi pleads as she holds your arm tightly. Arisu holds your other one as they both struggle to pull you back. 

“YN, stop!” It was Arisu who screams, having a much more difficult time than Usagi.

As the pair is still trying to hold you back, the familiar sound of rumbling puts them to a halt, frozen over what they know follows. This puts an urgency on Usagi, pushing Arisu from you and moving in front of you. She stops you by holding both of your shoulders in place, planting all her weight on the ground. 

“Y/N!” 

“Y/N!” 

Usagi was in front of you, in distress as she squeezes your shoulders. She was holding on to you with maximum effort, her feet gripping the ground tightly and the force on your shoulders was vehement. Your face relaxes, releasing the tension that was once on it. 

“U-Usagi?”

What was happening? Why is Usagi on the verge of tears? Why can’t you remember anything? Your knuckles are clenched and wet? You look down, seeing the blood and bruises forming on it. What’s the last thing you remember? 

You feel Usagi’s hold loosen as you think. 

You try to retrace your steps. You heard gunshots. You followed them. It was at the Shibuya crossing. You saw Arisu. Then Niragi. Then Usagi. Niragi was about to shoot Usagi. But Chishiya was shot instead. 

Chishiya was shot. Fatally. 

Your face morphs into a horrified one as you remember. You look up, finally processing what has happened and what was happening. The rumbling sound followed by a whistle indicated a blimp was near. Chishiya was shot and the King of Spades was about to come. 

Snapping out of it, you turn around and run to where you know Chishiya is. Dropping to your knees beside him, tears began to sting your eyes as you try to press your bruised hand on his wounds.

He was fatal. There were two shots, one below the rib and another on the chest. You know you can’t carry him away to a safe shelter. He was too exhausted and he was losing too much blood. And you have to run now, quickly. 

With your touch, Chishiya’s eyes open again but with struggle. He looks up at your face that had worry and devastation written all over it. 

“H-hey,” he greets you with a corner of his lips curled up. He could barely keep his eyes open.

You broke into a sob, tears flowing down your cheek as you stared at the bloody mess in front of you. “Shuntarou. T-tell me what to do. Please. We can stop the blood. I can carry you to the nearest drugsto—“

He shakes his head, not even listening to your cries in an attempt to help him. “I-No. The jacket. I’m sorry.” 

Your brows furrowed as you scrunch your forehead in confusion. “What?” 

A hand lifts to the blood on his jacket. Was he trying to say sorry about ruining his goddamn jacket?

“Are you fucking serious? That doesn’t matter right now!” You scold him, fist slamming the concrete below you.

The man dying in front of you had the audacity to smirk in his condition. “T-the plant too.” 

Your mouth drops open at his words, momentarily halting your sobs as tears continue to fall from your eyes. The plant? Could it be? 

That’s when you realize that this man bleeding in front of you, unmoving and on the verge of death, is the same man who you met when you were a kid. This is the same man who would ignore you endlessly. This is the same man who pushed you away. 

But this man… has always cared about you. 

You wondered why he hadn’t gotten rid of it all this time. Back at the beach, you saw him wearing it. He had taken it off only one time—when you chose Usagi and Arisu over him. Then he mysteriously has it again when the games started. Had he always cared this much over that damn Nike jacket? Because of you?

You were about to speak again but a loud scream from afar interrupts you, indicating that the King of Spades is near. 

“We have to go!” Arisu screams and runs to you and Chishiya. “We’ll hide them under the cars,” he says and you nod, wiping away your tears. 

Arisu, Usagi, and you dragged Niragi and Chishiya behind the cars. However, you know that wouldn’t do much. But you have to run or be shot to death by the King of Spades right here with them. 

“Come on!” Arisu beckons as he drops Niragi beside the car. You were still beside Chishiya, kneeling beside him and looking at him breathing and alive despite his exhausted and lifeless eyes. You place your hand on top of his and hold it, gripping it so tightly that your knuckles turn white.

You look at Arisu and then back at Chishiya, thinking about what could be the stupidest decision in your life. From the look on your face, Arisu begins to understand what you were thinking. 

“Y/N, we need you.” Arisu pleads with you. You both know that if it ever comes down to taking down the King of Spades, three is better than one. Especially with your combat skills. 

However, you stay on your ground, eyes focused on Chishiya who was now looking at you with confused eyes. “I want to be next to him. If I die, it’ll be next to him.” 

Arisu and Usagi look at each other as if they’re communicating with their eyes. 

Chishiya turns his head, looking away from your focused stare. “Just go,” he tells you, his hand that was in your hold pushes yours away. 

You shake your head in protest. “No.”

The shouts got a lot clearer and the gunshots were louder. The King of Spades is nearing and you were giving Arisu and Usagi no chance to convince you to come with them. But you’re choosing Chishiya this time. As you always had. 

Arisu places a hand on your shoulder and you finally look up at him with tears in your eyes. You give him one last nod and he gives you a stare and nods back. It wasn’t a look of pity but a look of worry and respect. This might be the last time you’ll see him and Usagi. Not all of you might actually survive this time. 

“Be safe, Y/N.” Usagi crouches beside you to hug you.

You nod, patting her back. “Go. Now.” Usagi gives you one last look of determination and stands up in sharpness when you hear the screams and guns fired again. 

And so you watch as Usagi and Arisu scramble away from you. 

You finally plop yourself beside Chishiya, head down low in silence at the realization of what you’ve done. You don’t breathe or make a sound, only staying by his side as the shooting and running take place behind you. 

Minutes passed by and there were still people screaming and being shot but a further distance. You were frozen there, not doing anything but sitting while everyone you meet here is dying. 

Chishiya is breathing slowly but he’s alive. You can feel him looking at you in your peripheral vision but you don’t look back. 

“Is this really what you want?” His voice was weak and soft, unlike the Chishiya you used to know. You don’t answer him, only staring ahead at the ruined buildings of Shibuya. 

You remember walking here like it’s a chore. You remember seeing these streets alive with diverse people. Workers, students, tourists, and residents. It was a busy street. Now, what used to be a place that was never empty and filled with people, is littered with dead bodies. 

“Y/N,” Chishiya continues in a warning tone, trying to catch your attention as your mind is drifting away. 

You shake your head, headstrong on your decision. “No, I’m not leaving you.” 

He sighs. “You’re so stubborn.”

You raise a brow, glaring at him. “And you’re fucking stupid. Look at where you’re shot.” 

Why is it that the moment he turns things around he has to be in the line of fire?

He chuckles breathily, staring down at his wounds with raised brows. You frown when he literally does what he’s told. How can he be so sarcastic when he’s dying?

“What does my doctor think?” Chishiya raises a brow at you. You huff, looking away in annoyance. 

“That you should shut up,” you snap. “Can you sit up? Let’s at least try to control the bleeding.” 

“It’s no use.” You both know he’s right. Still, you’re not one to give up. You try to pull his arm but he winces, making you let go as you’ve accidentally touched a hot stove. You sigh, no choice but to sit in silence again.

It’s kind of odd how the King of Spades didn’t reach you behind the cars. The gunshots seem to have gone further away. Perhaps most players have decided to end the King of Spades now with Shibuya as his first and final arena. You thought about Banda and Yaba, were they in Shibuya too?

A cough pushes you out of your thoughts. You turn your head to your right and once again, your blood boils when your eyes meet Niragi’s who was barely leaning in front of a car. Sometimes, you really hate Arisu’s moral compass. He should’ve left Niragi for dead in the middle of the street for him to be shot dead and sure.

“What?” You spat. 

He doesn’t even have the energy to answer. His face was all bloodied, having been beaten up. His burns haven’t been healing properly and he was shot twice by you and Arisu. He was in a more critical stage than Chishiya. You hope that he'll die soon. 

Well, maybe not. 

“Don’t die,” you tell the deranged man. 

The corner of his blooded mouth curls up in the tiniest bit and you continue with a soulless voice. “Don’t die and let’s go back to the real world. When we’re back, just wait. I’ll find you and make you suffer so that you’ll wish you never lived and died here. I can atone for my sins in hell but you… I won’t let you. I want to be the one to punish you.” 

You know a million thoughts are running through his head. He may be wanting to curse you or taunt you, or in the slightest of chance, regret all of what he’s done here. It doesn’t matter anyway. He was too injured to move his mouth.

You turn your back to him and face Chishiya again. He was staring at you with amused eyes, probably shocked at your cruel words for his enemy. 

“What? I promised.” You defend yourself. “To protect you.”

“Why?” 

“You know why,” you argue, brows furrowing.

If Chishiya isn’t answering because of his injury or simply because he didn’t have anything to say, you weren’t sure. You do know, however, that there is one thing weighing on your mind. There was no time to ask but now.

You open your mouth to speak and close it again, hesitating a little before finally speaking. 

“Why didn’t you come back?” Your voice cracked. “I waited for you and watched the blimp crash. You didn’t come back.” 

He stays silent for a moment, not even staring at you. His face looks troubled. It almost looks like he’s on the verge of crying. You’ve never seen him look like this. What exactly happened in his game?

“I—“ He finally answers, stuttering as if he’s unsure. “I don’t know.” 

“You told me you will,” you bark. Were you angry? Maybe a little. Nobody wanted what happened to him to happen. It wasn’t his fault. Yet, you couldn’t not feel angry. If he just came back to you, would this have happened? 

Sometimes, you wish you could get inside Chishiya’s mind just once. Just so you could be sure of what he thinks of you—of where you stand in his life. 

“I know.” He chuckled bitterly. “And you told me you wanted to face the King of Spades.” 

“Then I guess our words never really meant anything to each other.” 

“So? Are you really going to stay here until they clear all the games?” 

“Yes.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“How is this ridiculous, Chishiya? You know how much I—“

“I know,” he pauses. “I know.” 

“Why won’t you let me tell you that I lo—“

“Not here. Not now.”

“What if we never get the chance again? Say I do go out there and join them? What if I die?”

“Walk it off. Win the game and crawl. Then say it.” He presses on every word harshly. You frown, upset that he was pushing you away this way. 

What now? He really wants you to leave him, huh?

“Listen, Y/N. I’m okay. I won’t be able to join the last game but I can stay here and be alive until it’s been cleared. You can go. I’ll wait for you here.”

You close your eyes, sighing as you rest your elbows on your folded knees. You place your head on your hands, frustrated. 

Of course, you wanted to help Arisu and the others. You weren’t selfish. You wanted to help with the King of Spades. But Chishiya is always your dealbreaker. He’s always the priority for you. 

The sooner the King of Spades is cleared, the sooner the Queen of Hearts could be entered. If you go now, maybe you can still find and help Arisu and Usagi. You sigh. It’s been a while since they left and the sound of gunshots and crashes has dwindled into a few now. Where will you find them?

“Shuntarou.” 

Your tone was serious, venom dripping from your voice. Your head was still on your hands, covering your face. 

“If I don’t make it—if I don’t make my way back to you, you’ll go back to the real world and try. Live better. I don’t know how you’ll do it.” As you ask the question, you turn your face to him. “Just try, okay?” 

You don’t wait for him to answer, taking his face in your hands and smashing your lips against his. He kisses back almost immediately, taking a hand and placing it over your hair. 

You pull away earlier than you wanted to, still holding his face. His eyes softened, half-lidded as they realize what was happening even if he was the one that pushed it. 

“I’m gonna go.”

You rise to your feet, crouching. As you turn to leave, Chishiya’s hand tugs your hand back to him. Your eyes widened as your lips met his once again. This time, it was softer and moist, and you realize that it was because tears began falling from your eyes and had saltied your kisses. The softness of his kiss contradicted the harsh truth of the situation while the intensity of it matched it quite perfectly.  His insistent mouth was parting your lips, palm now back at the back of your head, pressing you further to his face. He groaned softly, low in his throat and you felt it against your mouth. You chuckle against his lips, finding the irony in the situation. 

“I promise,” he says when you two finally part. 

Determined, you gave him a smile and a nod. 

“Go.” His voice was hoarse from both his injuries and the kiss. 

Then you turn around again, taking one last glance at your man before running off in the direction of where the King of Spades went. 

Ruins welcomed you as you walked further, finally putting a visual to the people you heard were being shot as you hid with Chishiya. Against your will, you take a look at each and one of them, crouching and hiding once in a while and hoping that one of them wasn’t people you know. 

You hear multiple gunshots from what looked like it came from an alley. Hastily, you run in that direction. 

As you get nearer, you hear the familiar voices. However, they weren’t speaking, they were screaming in agony. 

You readied your gun, cocking it, and stealthily walked into the alley. Usagi was shouting in pain. Kuina too. You walk faster, the lightest you could possibly go knowing that the King of Spades may know you’re coming. 

You lean on the wall as you reach a turning point, slowly peeking further into the alley where you’re sure that’s where they are. 

It was An you see first.

Her unmoving body sprawled out on the floor, her white shirt covered with blood. Next to her, was a crying Kuina, bleeding from what looked like multiple stab wounds. 

Usagi was on the King of Spades’ back, trying her best to choke him but he brought out a knife, plunging it into her knees multiple times. They were moving too often and you cursed to yourself because you were not a great shot. 

It was Usagi’s screams of pain that put you in overwhelming urgency. You take a deep breath, aim, and shoot.

Bang!

You press the trigger at the same time as the King of Spades throws Usagi from his back and onto the ground. You keep on shooting, revealing yourself from your hiding place at the edge of the alley and marching to him. 

The bullets hit and some don’t, having been avoided by the skilled man. A veteran. Or maybe someone like Aguni. You can see his face unlike before and there were no longer multiple pieces of armor adorning his body. 

He heads on straight to you and before he reaches you, you throw the gun far behind him. He only has a knife and you can’t risk him having a gun. It has to be this way for you to beat him. 

You hear Kuina or Usagi mumbling your name as they realize that you were here.

Your opponent lunges at you with his blade and you run to tackle him, putting both your fists forward. As he swings his fist holding the knife, you misdirect him with what supposedly looked like a tackle and swiftly shift to the right and smack his face with your right fist while holding his left arm with your left. The impact makes him stumble to his right and you jump, kicking his waist with both feet to make him lose his balance entirely.

He didn’t. It didn’t work.

He stayed standing on the ground like a statue, putting all his weight on his feet. This made you clench your legs to his body to steady your hold on the arm with the knife. 

He uses the opportunity to grab your leg and keep it there. You repeatedly slam his head with your fists while he, like a bull, runs and slams your back to the nearest wall. You grunt in pain, your other leg that he wasn’t holding falling and you use that leg’s foot and slam it against the wall so you won’t be pressed further. 

You put all your strength into preventing him from using the blade and take the pressure of you against the wall to steady yourself. You smash your fist on his eyes repeatedly and repeatedly until his head is thrown back. 

He growls. The hold that was on your leg tightens enough to hurt the muscle and you scream in pain while still slamming your fists into his face. The pressure of his hold was enough for him to lift you again and then throw your body on the ground. 

You were quick to go back on your feet and he was already lunging at you but you spin, unsheathing the Katana on your back and pointing it at him. You put yourself in the traditional Kendo stance with both your hands on the grip, left foot behind the right, and hips straightforward. 

This makes him step back enough but still hold the knife in his hands with conviction, ready to attack or counter at any given moment. 

To be honest, you’re never very well versed in playing around with swords but… you’ve been carrying it around all this time, won’t it be a waste to not use it?

You attack first, swinging the sword which he blocks with his small blade. You swing to the other side and he blocks that again. 

You back away again and thrust forward which he avoids by jumping to his right. He rushes with his knife and knowing you can’t block it with your long blade, you bend backward and go under his arm. Successfully, you avoid his attack then spin and turn to face him again, slashing your sword onto his back, creating a huge gash on his shirt, his bulletproof vest, and his skin. 

Your eyes are wide as blood drips from your blade. 

Wow, these things are really sharp, you think. 

You attack again as he turns around, swinging the blade again and he backs away to the wall to avoid it. 

You expected him to dodge but he didn’t. What he did catches you off guard as he quite literally holds the blade of your sword in hand and not minding as the skin on his palm is sliced open. Brows furrowed and eyes blazed, he holds the sword in place and then uses the blade in his other hand to stab you in the stomach.

The blade pierces your skin in one swift motion and your jaw drops, not even having the chance to scream in pain. He stabs you again. And again. And again. Harder and deeper at every thrust.

You grip the hand with the knife, pushing all your strength into both hands. He was so strong that you could barely keep his hand away from your stomach. You wanted to slam his hand on the wall but he was far too strong like a rock. 

Tears well up in your eyes. You still have to go back to Chishiya. 

But this was starting to look like a losing game. 

From your peripheral, you see Aguni crawling in the direction of where you threw your gun. So he was still alive. Even if you lose, he can win. And where was Arisu? You doubt he left Usagi alone.

And then it hits you.

They have a plan.

You scream and push with all your might, overpowering the King of Spades’ hand and slamming the knife against the wall. You slam your head from under his chin while repeatedly slamming his fist against the wall until his grip on the knife loosens.

However, him losing the blade causes his hand to be free from anything and he uses it to overpower you again, slamming his fist against your face in one big punch. His fist was heavy and his punch was nothing like you ever received before. It caused your head to throb and everything felt blurry for a few seconds.

You realized that you were thrown on the ground from the impact and your sword was no longer in your hand. Your vision was still a bit fuzzy as you see him holding the sword but then hear it hit the ground from far away. 

Seeing from your eyes opening and closing out of consciousness, his silhouette was picking something up and then he was on top of you. 

Why can’t you move? Everything feels so strange. Will you really lose this time? 

You felt a weight on your torso and a black figure hovering over you. He raises his fist, slamming it across your jaw. Fuck. Was that fucking personal? 

Your hand shoots up to stop the King of Spades’ other hand from stabbing you again. You don’t know when you’ve reached for your hunting knife strapped to your leg but you somehow did and plunged it right into his side and drew it back.

His free hand that punched you gripped your hand hard, slamming it on the cemented ground. You grunt, tears forming in your eyes as you try and get out of his hold or under him. 

You push yourself up as he keeps on pressing you down to the ground. You wrap your legs around him and scream with all your might to turn yourself, putting all your weight on him and turning him over. 

His wounded back slams on the ground and you stare at his deadly eyes, seeing the hatred and the urge to kill in his eyes. It scared you, to be honest. You’ve encountered lots of fighters. Strong, weak, arrogant, psychopaths, assholes, whatever they are, they always got a reason to fight no matter how pathetic it may be. 

This man right here, he has a reason too. And from the looks of it, it’s not because he simply wants to win the game. There has to be something like a personal agenda. That made him a lot scarier. 

You’re not stupid. You know you’re not a match for this man.

But if by wounding him a little, you’re helping the others, then you’ll gladly give your life. You just have to go back to Chishiya after. 

Maybe Banda was right after all.

Your eyes catch Aguni who was getting near the gun. You sigh and when you look back down, the King of Spades slams his forehead against yours, knocking you back distracted and he plunges his knife again into you multiple times, blood spurting out of your mouth as he does so.

You could no longer move, the force of the blade wrecking you back and forth, making you fall back on the ground with wide eyes. You even hear Usagi crying for you.

The King of Spades doesn’t stop assaulting you when you fall on the ground because you don’t stop fighting back. You scream and scream, kicking him repeatedly however you can. He pulls one of your legs and stabs the knife in your thigh, specifically where your previous gun wound is. This made you stop fighting, wailing in pain but you catch yourself quickly, stabbing the knife in your hand on his foot and on his leg. He kicks your knife out of your hand and steps on your palm. You scream as you hear and feel your bones break. He doesn’t stop, kicking your stomach and letting your bleeding out pace faster. 

Eventually, you become unresponsive to his hits, having everything feel numb that you can’t move. Your hand was broken, there were about ten stab wounds on your body, and your leg was wrecked. 

You didn’t realize you ended up beside Usagi who was holding out her hand to you while barely conscious. 

You hear two gunshots and you don’t even know if that is Aguni or the King of Spades. 

You were crying, face wet with blood, sweat, and tears. You have to get back to him. You have to tell him. 

“Usagi… help me. Chishiya,” you plead with a hoarse voice. “H-have to go back.” 

And then everything turned black.

Arisu screams Usagi’s name as she falls on the ground with you, her injured legs and the weight of you was too much to support. Usagi could no longer scream for the pain and you were completely out of it. 

You were crying, face wet with tears. The sight was breaking Arisu’s heart. The two girls who saved him when he was dying inside himself—those two girls who always seemed strong, who always saved him, he was watching as you both crumbled on the ground, beaten up, and weakened. 

He picked up Usagi first, seeing as she was the one still conscious or at least in the right mind to talk to him. He cradled her face in his hands, tapping it as she was being pulled and pushed from consciousness.

“Arisu…” It was barely a whisper, slipping past her dry lips. She calls for him, forehead scrunched as she tries to tell him something more but her body fails her. Arisu could only make out your name. 

He looks over at you, sprawled out on the ground and bleeding from multiple stab wounds on your body. You were hysteric and sobbing, trying to crawl the ground and away from them as he heard that the registration for the Queen of Hearts game was starting. It was obvious what you were trying to do. 

He doesn’t know whether to pity or admire your love for Chishiya. 

Helping Usagi up, he let her stand on her own for a few seconds before reaching over to you and picking you up, hooking your arm over his shoulders and his hands on your back and under your thighs. 

You groaned in pain at Arisu’s sudden hold, tears pouring down your face as Arisu’s shirt is soaked with your blood. Once he stabled his footing, he let Usagi hold his arm for guidance as she struggled to walk with her injured knees. 

The two of them walk in the direction of the Queen of Hearts game with you in his arms. Thankfully, Chishiya was on the way to the game. 

It was like a death march. Arisu seemed to be the only man standing to enter the game. If it was up to him, he’d rather join the game alone. But from the determination on Usagi’s face, it seemed that she wouldn’t have that at all.

He only wished that no one has to die any more after the last game. He wishes to finish the game as fast as possible, hoping that he could save everyone who tried their best so far and are still trying to keep alive. You, Aguni, Kuina, Chishiya, An, Heiya, and everyone who was still breathing here in Tokyo. No one should die anymore. 

“Shun…” It doesn’t even seem like you were still conscious anymore. He doesn’t know if you know he’s carrying you to him. It’s like you’re only dreaming of him. 

“It’s okay, we’re near Chishiya. Hang on, Y/N. Just hang on.” Arisu assures you but as he says this, your eyes finally shut close and your body goes limp against his hold.

As that rusted car came into view, Usagi and Arisu went quiet, dreading the news that they were about to deliver to the white-haired man. 

They pass the trunk of the car, catching the attention of the injured man in the bloodied white jacket leaning on the car door. He turns his head, spotting Arisu first and then the person he was holding. There you are, eyes closed, beaten, and bloodied. 

The hand resting on his lap drops to his side and he tries his best to sit up straight. Usagi lets go of Arisu’s arm and lean on the car’s trunk. Arisu carefully placed your body next to his. 

Whatever Chishiya was feeling was incomprehensible as he stared at your color-drained face.

Arisu couldn’t even say anything to the man. He wanted to say sorry but what would that do? He wanted to tell him why he brought you here but he’s sure he already knows the answer. What he could do, however, is to finish the last game quickly. 

Chishiya didn’t even notice as Arisu and Usagi left, still looking at you, breathing slowly and watching as your chest would barely rise and fall. 

He always liked being right. It gave him a sense of security that he was doing things well. You were the only thing that never made him feel secure as you were always pushing yourself into danger. He knew from the moment he saw him that the King of Spades was far too strong for you. When he said to you that you were no match for the King of Spades, he wasn’t lying. 

And yet when he pushed you to fight the King of Spades, he also believed in you. 

He could only wish as the blimp crashed that you were still alive. 

And here you are, lying beside him… and he is so proud of you.

He never understood why you liked fighting. He didn’t understand what rush you were feeling from blood and sweat. But you’d never understand how his intelligence excited him either. He guesses that you two were both different and the same that way. 

Ever since he figured out that you went underground, he’d secretly sneak into every one of your fights. There were times when an opponent with an established name in the underground would come and challenge you. When those assholes of an audience would turn their back on you and bet against you even when they know what you’re capable of, he would still bet your name. Those were the only times in his life that he allowed himself to not be critical. 

You never lost once. 

He was kind of hoping that it’d happen one more time. But you did win. The King of Spades went down, didn’t they? But why does it feel like Chishiya lost instead?

“Focus.” Chishiya pushed the book you’ve pushed away in front of you. You glared at him and put down your phone.

He easily snatches the phone from the table and put it in his pocket. “Read,” he commands, eyeing the book the professor assigned for reading. 

“But it isn’t due next week,” you mumbled angrily as you leaned your head on your palm while looking down at the book’s pages. Chishiya hears this but ignores you, all too familiar with your whining.

You began reading as he wished but after five minutes of learning about anatomy, your brain starts flying away from you and your eyes start to get droopy. Your head starts getting heavy and soon starts slipping from your palm.

Chishiya sighs and without even looking up from his book, he uses the end of his pen to push your forehead up.

“Ahh,” you groan as he forbids you to fall asleep inside the library again. How could you not? It was very cozy, cold, and quiet.

“If you’re not going to study just go home.” 

He knows you don’t want to go home, finding nothing but an empty house there. You’ll definitely stay.

“But it’s boring.” You whine in a whisper. 

He sighs, still not looking at you. “Not my problem.”

This time, it was your turn to sigh. “Why do you even want to be a doctor? And don’t give me that to save lives bullshit, Shun. We both know you’re lying.” 

He shrugs. “Just because.” 

“Because?” You press further. 

He finally looks at you with a glare and repeats. “Just because.”

“Because your father was one?” You ask, tilting your head. 

It was the reason. There wasn’t a particular humane reason why. He just wanted to see what was so great about it—saving lives. He had more than enough intelligence to do it and it was the same thing his father devoted his life to, so why not?

“Do you not have a reason?” You ask again, this time more seriously. He doesn’t answer this time. 

You smiled, looking at your book now. “I think I’m too weak to be a doctor,” you admit, lips twitching. 

“I mean, I’m physically strong but mentally, I don’t think I have it. But you, I think you’ll be a great doctor, Shuntarou. You’ll save a lot of lives and help a lot of people.”

You used to have so much hope in him. You still do. But whatever slight confidence he had in himself that he’ll understand and care for people once he becomes a doctor, he lost it when he actually started to practice medicine. It wasn’t all about saving lives. It was a profession driven by greed and power. 

He thought that he could just ignore it. That if he just focused on his job, he won’t be included in their greed. It was pathetic of him to think that. 

A man like him who came from his father and followed his father will eventually become his father. 

Ever since realizing that, he didn’t have the guts to face you. Still, you kept on cheering him on, believing he was purely saving lives. You kept on visiting him in the hospital and gave him gifts. You didn’t know he basically killed Hayato and many more people. 

It was just the way it worked for him. To be honest, he envied you. You were living a double life but you were happy with that. You had a breather. He didn’t. 

If you married him, you’d be tied up to a man like your father and his father. You wouldn’t want to live like that. He didn’t want you to live like that. He used to say that you’d just be a burden to him but now he knows that he just wanted better for you.

He wasn’t enough for you. 

He was always afraid that one day, you’ll see how much of a pathetic man he is and pack your bags.

After the King of Diamonds game, he couldn’t escape the heavy feeling on his chest and the boggling of his mind. He didn’t feel well enough to see you. He had to figure out what it all meant. 

And so this happened.

“Chi…”

He wasn’t sure if he was hallucinating because he could barely hear it. But it did come from you. Even in your state, you were still mumbling his name. 

“Y/N?”

He called your name, desperate to hear your voice again. Don’t you have something to say to him? 

“I…” 

“Y/N.” His voice softened. You need to hear his voice to let you know he’s beside you. That way, you can tell him. 

Your face was pale and dried of both sweat and tears, dust and dirt all over it. Chishiya’s jaw clenched, turning his body to yours to face you. He held the gunshot in his chest as it ached when he moved again. 

“Shunta…” 

This time, you say it with a frown and a scrunched forehead, indicating that you were maybe getting a bit of consciousness. 

“I’m here.” 

Chishiya’s expression hardened, brows furrowing as he held your hand tightly. 

“I’m here,” he repeated. He felt a finger twitch against his hold. He held his breath, not blinking as he stared at your face. The few seconds that he was waiting felt a hell lot longer. 

And then you smiled. 

You smiled. 

You smiled and then your face relaxed.

The color drained out of Chishiya’s face as he realized what was happening—what he knows is happening but his mind, letting itself be controlled by emotions for the third time that day, was hoping for a different outcome. 

He hoped you weren’t just hallucinating before your last breath. 

“I…” It was coming from his mouth this time.

“I love you too.”

The skies turned dark and time was a concept that Chishiya lost track of. He was still holding your hand as they turned pale. 

He had his eyes on the Queen of Hearts blimp the whole time, silently wishing that Arisu and Usagi would win the game soon. He had all hopes for him. He knows that Arisu could make it. 

Congratulations.

All of the games have now been cleared. 

The first explosion of the blimp made him realize that he was not breathing well the whole time as if anticipating something. He let out a sigh of relief as the explosion was followed by another and another as fireworks scattered the sky. 

The whole of Tokyo is surrounded by fireworks and he stares at your face illuminated by them. It was done. What now? What makes the two of you?

All surviving players will be presented with two choices. Players must now decide whether to accept permanent residence in this country or decline it. Once again, players must now decide whether to accept permanent residency or decline it. 

What do you know… you do get a choice. 

His hand holding yours tightens. With his other hand, he pushes away the hair that got on your face, ignoring the searing pain from his wounds. 

“We’re gonna have to decline… I think.” 

You have to go back with him. And when you do, he promises to himself that he won’t let anyone hurt the two of you anymore. Not himself, not yourself, not your father nor his father. No one else. 

It will be just the two of you. 

The last thing he remembers is he was on his way to your date. It was the last thing he wanted to do that day. He’d rather work on some patient’s case. But it was his day off and he didn’t really have anything better to do other than work. 

He was walking along Shibuya when something that looked awfully like a meteor passed in the sky. Everyone looked up in awe until they realized that it was coming straight near. 

And then he woke up here on the hospital bed. 

The man beside him had burns all over his body. The side of his face was also burnt, Chishiya assumes as half of his face is also bandaged. He was throwing a coughing fit. 

“What do you want?” The man groans as Chishiya stares at him. 

“It looks to me like you’ve experienced a cardiac arrest,” Chishiya answers, vocalizing his opinion as a doctor. 

“What are you, a doctor?” The stranger asks. 

“Well, I did too.” He answers instead, not really wanting to tell the truth for some reason. The doctor did tell him that his heart stopped for a whole minute when he woke up so it wasn’t really a lie.

“What a coincidence.” 

“So we both almost died.” Chishiya raises both his brows before asking a question that relates to him as well. “You feel any different now?” 

The stranger sighed. “I don’t know. I mean, I look a lot worse. What about you?” 

Chishiya takes his eyes away from the man. “I’ve been thinking a lot about my life, the choices I had to make. Pretty sure I’m gonna be turning my life around.”

With the way he lived his life, he felt like he shouldn’t be one of the people lying here on the hospital beds. There were people much better than him—people that deserved to survive more…people like you.

“Or something like that.” He continues. 

He was alone when the meteor hit. But he was on his way to meet you. He couldn’t help but wonder about you. Were you okay? Were you already in the area when the meteor hit? It was the first time in his life that he actually felt scared for you. He didn’t want you to be one of the casualties of the tragedy.

“You were a piece of shit too, huh? You fucked up?” 

He thought back to his life choices, the way he is as a doctor, as a son, and as a friend to you. He did fuck up. He forgot why he was doing all of these in the first place. Him being here alive, it felt like he was being given another chance. He wanted to be better. To himself and to you.

“I did.”

Niragi scoffs and sighs, halting the conversation and letting the room fall into silence again, only the light vibrating sound of the air conditioner being heard.

Chishiya asked for your name when the nurse came in. There was a lot in need of medical care but she clearly remembered your name. When he saw the familiarity in her eyes, Chishiya knew that there could only be two reasons and one certainty. 

The only certainty was you were definitely here and the reasons being one, your name was well known in the medical community in Japan, and two, you were in a critical condition. Doctors and Nurses at times of tragedies like this often have a hard time remembering their patients’ names unless they’re at the top of the list of people who need immediate help.

“Ms. Y/N L/N. Do you know her?” 

“Yes.” 

Chishiya pauses before continuing. 

“She’s my fiancée.”

The doctor agreed to let Chishiya leave the room but not before realizing who he was. On a wheelchair, Chishiya wheels himself to the ICU where he was told you are. 

He has only seen you a few days before but to him, it felt like there were missing pieces that he can’t seem to figure out. He had never craved to see you like this before. He had to see you. 

Chishiya pushed the wheel to turn with his palms, slowly walking the hallway of the hospital, and observing the other patients he was passing by. 

He stops by a man that catches his eye. His condition looked bad and seemed to be in a coma. He sighs, at least he was lucky with what he got.

Pushing his chair again, Chishiya realizes that one of the wheels is stuck. 

“Fuck,” Chishiya curses, looking down at the wheel while trying to lean his body towards the floor without opening his stitches.

“Something stuck. Here, let me help you.”

Dreadlocks come into Chishiya’s view first as she leans down and grabs something from under his chair. “There we go,” she mumbles and lifts her head, giving him a warm smile. 

Chishiya raises a brow, staring at the woman’s face. Her brows rise and her smile drops in return, slightly bewildered at his ungrateful expression. It wasn’t that he wasn’t thankful. It’s just that her face looked awfully familiar and he couldn’t quite think why. It’s unsettling how he feels this way since the tragedy. 

“Thank you.” He quickly drops his face back to a nonchalant one and thanks her. She rises to her feet, throwing what looked like a small piece of crumpled cardboard in the nearest trash can with ease. 

“Meteor too, huh?” She asks, scratching the back of her head. Chishiya nodded, looking at her from head to toe. It doesn’t seem like she’s in a bad condition seeing as she can still walk with her two feet.

“Yeah, it’s not that bad for me.” She quickly notices what Chishiya meant by his look. “Although they said my heart stopped for like a minute. I’m Kuina, by the way.” 

“Chishiya,” he introduces himself. “They told me my heart stopped too. So did the one I’m sharing my room with.” 

“Huh. That’s weird.” Kuina pursed her lips, crossing her arms. “So, ‘ya know anyone here?”

Chishiya nodded, a bit confused as to why he was keeping a conversation with a complete stranger yet he answers. “Yeah. I’m looking for my fiancée.” 

Kuina evidently pauses, a little shocked by the information. That could only mean that his fiancée is in critical condition if she’s on this floor. She nods and asks. “Do you need help? I can wheel you to them.”

Oddly enough, Chishiya lets her. His new acquaintance pushes his wheelchair slowly as he eyes the names on the doors of the single-bed ICUs. The hospital they were in was quite large and no doubt owned by your father. He’s quite surprised you weren’t transferred to a VIP one yet. Was your condition that bad? 

“Wait.” He stops Kuina as he sees that familiar name on the side of the sliding glass door. 

Y/N L/N

“She’s here.” 

He could see clearly from outside. You were there, on the bed enclosed by protective transparent curtains. A weirder feeling settles on his chest and then he finally feels it. He finally finds what he lost along the way—what he craved to feel again.

Care. Despair. Agony. He finally understands as a tear falls from his eye. 

He loves you.

© wolfvmin. please do not copy, translate, claim any of my works. my works are cross-posted only in ao3 under the name vantantae. thank you.

[imbeingchokeholded]

Getting Clean

I need to be put into jail, stupid Scottish bitch.

Anyway this is probably lowkey just gonna be smut completely lmao.

I promise the soap pun titles will end.

Also so sorry this took so long because my mind is an enigma and writing for either the COD fandom or the RDR2 fandom has been deleted out of my mind.

Lets go lmao

WARNINGS!: female reader because im a woman and soap makes me yell real loud (nothing against him being shipped with male readers or 141, good for him what a king), NSFW, fuckin, im so bad at warnings just know its gonna be fuckin happenin, choking?? Voice kink???? Breeding kink for SURE. Just major NSFW basically porn with negative plot. Like... .5 plot.

Scottish slang/words may be inccorect due to using google, so please lemme know if its wrong, I'll happily fix it.

I am so sorry for spelling mistakes i finished this at like 2am

The mess hall seemed way too empty, everyone was out on missions, covert, recon, whatever, and while there was a shit ton of others there on base, without most of the 141 team it just felt....wrong.

You sigh and look at your food. It's not that it's bad food. In fact, it looks delicious, but sitting alone, at this massive table that usually you shared with Ghost, Gaz, Rudy and Alejandro, as well as Soap, just made you feel...down.

They were easily the people you were closest too on base. Working so closely with them it was only a matter of time before it happened. All of you were close friends, it was rare for any of you to stray from the group and talk to anyone else.

So today, sitting in the mess hall, was no different.

You stare at the food a little longer, and poke it around with your fork, that strange foreign feeling in your chest.

"Aye Lass, lookin' at it like tha' cannaé change how it tastes."

You smile and twist your head to look at Soap as he nears the table, a tray of food of his own in his hands.

"Johnny! I didn't know you were here!" You smile wider as he takes a seat next to you, and chuckle as he takes a bite of food from his tray.

"Ah, I jus' got back from a mission not too long ago, Price is givin' me a wei break."

You nod and smile at him, your heart seems a little lighter now, someone who you're far closer to now with you.

Plus it was Johnny, how could you not be happy around him? He was the obnoxious fun loving one of the group, he could be serious yes, but it was rare. Most days he joked, laughed, spat out witty sarcastic comments at everyone who passed.

You supposed that was part of the reason you'd grown to have such deep feelings for him in the first place.

Of course you'd never tell him that, you were far too nervous to do that.

Handsome, sweet, a deep voice, which had a Scottish accent on top of it? You could listen to him speak about nonsense for the entire day.

Sometimes missions with him were absolute hell.

He did his job, he was a good Sargent, he knew what he was doing, trained properly, getting things done the way they needed to, but his commentary....

That damn voice of his, he didn't even need to be next to you, all he needed was that voice and his stupid little sarcastic quips.

Hell, sometimes it wasn't even in comms.

He'd yell out something simple, that shouldn't have been attractive, yet it was.

Something as simple as "Changing mags!" Could make your face heat up and turn a violent red, hell, he basically growled at the end of the sentence whenever he said it. Being near him was almost like having a bomb strapped to your chest. Threatening to go off at any second.

Everytime he said "Steamin' Jesus" you couldn't help but imagine him using it in a far more intimate senario, with a slight change of tone, and that never failed to send a flood of warmth between your legs.

You swore that he knew what he was doing too, like he could sense the tension between the two of you, or see the red on your face, but if he did he never brought it up, and for that you were thankful.

Trying to explain fraternization to Price would not be a fun experience. Not only that but bringing it up would probably make you flustered beyond speaking ablity.

"Hey, Y/N. I been talkin' yer fuckin' ear off, you still listenin'?"

You shake your head and look at him, your face feels hot and you're sure you're crimson.

"Ye alright Lass?"

That stupid nickname makes the blush worsen and you simply clear your throat.

"I'm fine Soap. Thinking."

"You can call me Johnny off duty." He laughs. "You usually do....ya nervous about something? Just a wei bit?"

His voice carries a bit of teasing tone and you can't help but feel a bit if irritation at the smug bastard.

"Not nervous, no."

"Ah, not nervous, yet red in the face....Aye...I got yer number bonnie."

He snorts and then continues to eat.

"Really?" You cross your arms and look at him. "Do you now MacTavish?"

"Pretty obvious if you ask me." He shrugs.

"Okay, so tell me then."

Your face burns at the sudden burst of confidence, and as a smirk crosses over Johnny's face you suddenly feel very foolish about what you've just said.

"Lass...tha's not very appropriate for me to say here, where anyone could hear....now is it?"

That smirk stays on his face as he lowers his voice to a low whisper as he gets the last few words out.

You swallow, and your face burns deeper.

"I don't know what you mean Johnny."

"I'm sure." He offers you a laugh and then stands, the look in his eyes makes your body shiver. "I think I'll head to my room...feel free to...visit, if you'd like."

You watch as he walks off as though nothing had happened and your entire body seems to shiver.

He sticks his hands in his jean pockets as he walks away, which you obviously noticed, because of course you did, with an ass like his.

What the hell are you gonna do? Follow him? How the hell did he figure you out so quickly? Did he mean what he said?

Little did you know Johnny was thinking similarly.

"What the hell were you thinkin'? Saying somethin' like that? Y/N does NOT feel that way about you, you probably just fucked somethin' up, fuckin' idiot."

It takes you only a matter of minutes before you stand from the table and head after Johnny, towards his room in the base.

Your heart is thumping so loudly its the only thing you can hear.

Your body seems to be reacting on its own though, your thoughts, while dirty and definetly in need of some....cleaning....ironically, are wondering what'll happen to your friendship afterwards, but your body doesn't seem to care.

Your mind races with the thought of what would happen if you were caught too, it wasn't exactly professional to fuck your coworker in the military.

When you reach his door you breathe deeply, hesitant as you raise your hand to the door. You stopped for a moment and then, you knock on the door.

Johnny opens the door nearly instantly, only a matter of seconds pass before the door knob clicks and he stands in the doorway before you, leaning against the doorframe as he looks down at you.

"Tha' was quick Lass."

"Shut up, let me in."

"Aw...c'mon now...be nice..." He lowers his voice, whispering the last two words, a smug smirk coming over his mouth.

You feel a rush of heat through your chest and look to your feet, your entire face seems to burn, your ears even feel as though they're burning.

"Please Johnny?"

You feel his hand come under your chin and he lifts your head to look him in the eye, not gently but not rough either.

"Try again Lass, look me in the eye."

Fuck fuck fuck fuck

"Please let me in, you stupid Scottish fuck."

"Tha's not very nice...thought I said be nice..."

You clench your jaw and stare at him, that smug grin on his face somehow managing to irritate you and make you horny all at the same time.

"Please Johnny? Let me in?"

"Ye really do want me, don't ye? Dinna�� know you felt so strongly towards me.." He smirks at you and the moves aside, dropping his hand from your chin to let you in.

You look around his room, staring at all the posters and things he has lined up on the walls. Considering this was Johnny's room....you expected it to be far dirtier, less organized, yet as you looked around at the rest of his room you noticed everything had a place, everything was neat, he didn't even have dirty clothes on the floor.

Neat and organized....despite his very chaotic and uncooridinated nature.

You're busy looking this over, viewing his room when he comes up behind you.

He leans in close.

"So, you were havin' thoughts then?" He smirks, you can feel it without even looking at him. "You? Havin' thoughts...innocent little Y/N always focused on the job Y/N....havin' thoughts like those....and about me..."

His voice lowers, it's nearly a growl, and a hand wraps around your waist, his fingers slide gently under the bottom of your shirt, touching the bare skin of your stomach, only just barely.

"Naughty...naughty..."

You look down, your face is completely red, scarlet, and it burns hotter than you thought possible.

By looking down you didn't really account for the fact that, that would only leave your neck open, and it takes all your will power you have not to make a sound when you feel Johnny's lips agains the skin there.

"I'm suprised it took you this long to notice Johnny." You breathe out, hoping your voice wouldn't give out on you.

He stops, his lips still gently placed against your skin as he speaks.

"Really now....been very noticable has it Hen?"

The nickname sends a shiver though your spine, though you know the word itself isn't the issue.

"I think so..." You breathe. "Can't you tell when my voice changes over comms sometimes?"

"Ye get that flustered...over comms? Ye don't even see me.."

He chuckles and presses another kiss to your neck, you're sure the next one he offers will be brusing.

"Not my fault..." You mumble. You've almost collapsed against him, leaning your body weight onto him, though he doesn't mind in the slightest.

"Really now...now...can ye explain to me what it is on comms that makes things so hard to focus then Hen?"

"Why must you make things difficult?"

"Difficult?"

He laughs at you and then stands up straight, his hand leaving the skin of your stomach.

He moves to his bed and takes a seat, nearly plopping down, he sits with his legs open and slaps both hands on his thighs, leaning forwards.

"It isn't difficult, it's a really easy question now Lass."

You cross your arms and look at him, watching as he leans back a little a simple smirk on his face.

"If ye really want somethin' tonight Y/N, yer gonnae have to tell me."

That smug look doesn't leave his face, rather it seems like it only gets worse as he utters out your name, emphasising it, lowering his voice as he does. To add to this you watch as his hands leave his thighs, palms upwards in a sort of shrug gesture.

He knows what gets you flustered over comms. He knows, you know he knows, but you also know he's gonna make you say it.

"You damn well know what it is Johnny."

"Oh I do, but it'll be much better when it comes out of yer mouth, preferrably with your face all red."

You swallow and look to the floor, keeping your arms crossed as you speak.

"I swear sometimes you do it on purpose. You do those damn jokes, say those fucking statements and you always lower your voice, especially if you know I'm listening. I told you how I liked your accent ONCE and now you use it everytime you can."

"Aye, I do." Again, as before, you can hear that smirk on his face. "I'll admit it. I take every chance I can."

You scrunch up your nose, refusing to look up at him.

Theres silence for a moment and then you hear him shuffle, only then do you look up.

He simply catches your gaze and makes a motion towards himself with his two middle fingers, pretty much beckoning you towards him.

Despite the stubborness you've shown earlier you can't help but follow his silent command.

As you reach him and stand inbetween his legs his hands creep over your thighs, fingers curling around the back of them, squeezing the meat of them, tightly, firmly. Just the right amount of pressure.

He looks up at you, his face a little more serious now, the smirk from earlier still lingers, but it's far less noticable.

"Ye know Y/N, I've thought about having you in here....a lot."

"Really?" You stop a moment, your body tingling, stemming from his fingertips outwards. Your mind seems a little fogged. "I thought....I thought maybe you'd invited me in here today just to...well honestly I thought you were just fucking with me Johnny, but...I couldn't just ignore it."

"Nae, no fuckin'with you, no this time."

"So...does...um...does that mean..." You swallow, struggling with your words. "Look....Johnny I think it's obvious I've liked you for a while now...are...if we're really gonna do this...I...what does it mean? Anything? Just...are we fuck buddies, or something more because...."

Your words trail off, you can't help but cross your arms, a sudden burst of what you can only assume is nearly shame creeps up through you.

Johhny's face changes, subtly, but you catch it, and you don't miss the squeeze he gives your thighs either.

"Hen, once I get a taste of you I don't think I could have anyone else."

He's quick with his movements as he slides his hands up towards your ass, and pushes you slightly closer to himself.

The action he does next is a simple one, yet it sends all kinds of feelings through you.

His tongue touches the skin of your stomach, his hand gently pushing your shirt up out of the way. He licks a stripe upwards, keeping eye contact with you as he does.

"Jesus Johnny...."

He offers a chuckle and grips your hip with his free hand just a little tighter.

"I'm gonna ask this once Bonníe," he looks at you, only a small trace of a smile on his lips. "Are ye sure ye wanna do this? I'll stop if ye say stop, but after this I won't ask again."

Your thoughts swirl in your head for a moment. Wondering if it is what you wanted. If it was worth chancing your friendship, chancing your job, getting caught fraternizing is no small penalty.

In the end your body decides for you.

You nod.

"I do."

That smile of his fits on his face slowly, showing off those pearly whites. His surprisingly sharp canines.

His tongue comes out once more, again licking up your stomach, this time he stands as he moves himself upwards, only bringing his mouth away when he reaches the area just below your breasts, letting your shirt fall back to its original place.

When he finally stands his mouth goes into good use, his lips meeting yours with a feverancy, practically a need. He fists your hair, and darts his tongue into your mouth without any hesitance.

His free hand snakes around your body, finding purchase on the plump of your asscheek.

You let out a moan against his lips which in turn pulls one from him.

Your hands wrap around the back of his neck, grabbing onto any part of him you can.

His hand nestled within your hair offers a tug, pulling your head back, taking your lips from his and exposing your neck to him.

His lips latch onto your throat, open mouthed hot kisses against your skin, making your body shiver, tingle. His tongue licks along your skin, warm, and again...hungry.

"Johnny..." You whine out his name, and your body flames up, a part of you is curious as to how he'd gotten you so needy so quickly.

The other part did not give a shit.

"So pretty when you whine like that Bonníe..."

He smiles against your skin, moving towards your jaw, still dragging his lips along your neck, refusing to leave it.

"Maybe we should see if I can get any more out of ye..."

"Johnny...we have to be careful..." You mumble. "We...we can't be caught-"

"Yer right Lass...that might even be more fun..."

He pulls back to look at you, his eyes seemed to darken with the idea that begins to plauge his mind.

"Let's see if ye can keep from screamin' huh?"

"Johnny-"

He cuts you off as his hand come up around your throat, offering a gentle squeeze to the sides as he begins to push you down to the bed.

"Do yer best for me Love." He gives you that goddamn smirk again. "Stay quiet...Can ye do that?"

You nod, your breathing becoming heavier as he stares down at you, hand still wrapped around your throat.

"Atta girl."

He coos out the words and everything in your body seems to be completely englufed in flame.

"You this charming to every girl you fuck Johnny?"

You breathe out the words, hands moving to his chest as you settle against the mattress.

"Jus' you Lass."

Rough hands slide under your shirt, over your stomach, bringing the shirt along with him.

His thumb glides up the center of your torso, pushing down slightly as he continues his movement, his other hand only leaves your throat when he needs to remove the shirt fully.

Your bra is taken off with seemingly expert practice, your breasts exposed to the air, but quickly they're found by hands and mouth.

A rough palm on one and a wet mouth sucking and licking the other.

It takes all your power not to moan, your back arching up into the feeling.

You hadn't been aware of just how touch starved you'd been.

One of your hands tangles into his mohawk, attempting to hold onto something of him.

He looks up at you, pulling away from your breasts.

"Nae, I dinnae say ye could touch lass."

"Johnny-"

"Shut tha' pretty mouth lass...see if ye can be quiet yeah?"

You nod, swallowing as he reaches for your pants. His fingers hooking under the waistband as he unbuttons them with the other.

With one swift movement he's pulled both your jeans and panties down, leaving you bare to him.

"Would ye look at tha'...such a bonnie sigh', Love..."

He smirks and moves in, hands finding your inner thighs, bringing a sigh from your lips.

Before you can say much else you feel a swipe of his tongue over your heat, already you were slick, this was certain to make the problem worse.

His grip on your inner thighs gets a little tighter as he continues with you, he moves his tongue with expertise, eating you out as though he's a man starved.

"Johnny..."

You can't help but let his name slip out, grabbing the sheets beneath you, squirming your hips against his face.

He looks up at you from his position, and even in his eyes you can see the smirk he'd wear.

It's far too soon that he pulls away, you'd been so close to your climax, so close to having that release, until he'd denied you that.

Again you whine his name, and he moves, climbing over you, grabbing your face with one hand, firmly holding your cheeks.

"Aw lass...wei bonnie...are ye feelin' a wei bit needy?"

You nod, the best you can in his grip, moving your hips against his clothed arousal, hoping for even a little bit of friction.

You give a nother small whine, this one more of a sound than that of a noise, again reaching for him, only for his other hand to pin your wrists above you.

"Ah...I told ye, nae touchin' lass"

You simply look at him, unable to do much in your senario. It's then that he kisses you, deeply, his tongue gliding against yours, the taste of your own slick in your mouth.

He lets go of your face, only to rushedly un button his pants, his problem suddenly a bit more annoying than it had been.

The moment he's free, his pants and boxers disgarded he simply looks down at you, seemingly thinking.

Its then that he grabs you by the hips and easily, effortlessly, flips you onto your stomach, running his pointer finger and thumb down your spine for a moment.

"Ye look so good from this angle love..."

He leans over you, his chest to your back, head angled right next to your ear.

He lowers that damn voice of his again.

"Can ye be a good lass fer me and arch jus' a wei bit... chest down love, ass up."

Of course you do as he asks, or rather tells, like its instinct, pressing your chest further into the bed, raising your rear higher into the air.

He leans back, taking a look at the sight in front of him, his hands going to the flesh of your ass like magnets, squeezing gently, your ass and hips, as though he can't decide which he likes better.

"Look at ye...such an obediant little lass...ye like doin' what yer told do ye? Is tha' why ye like rankin' under me? Enjoy the way I order ye around on the field? Makes ye think..."

You don't answer, focused on the feel of his hands, its only when he moves one of those hands to the back of your neck.

"I need an answer lass."

"Yes, yes I do Sir."

You can nearly feel the smirk on his face, he squeezes the back of your neck a little tighter.

"Sir?"

"Yes sir."

"Oho...I like tha' lass..."

He grabs both of your asscheeks again for a moment before you feel one leave only to feel him push into you.

You let out a groan as he pushes in, as much as you can take, to the base, you feel incredibly full. He's girthy.

"Fuck Johnny..."

You murmer.

"Nae...yer gonna call me sir from now on Love..."

You swallow, waiting for him to move.

"Do ye understand me?"

"Yes Sir."

"Good lass."

He gices you this praise and gently he moves his hips, his hand pushing your spine back into that arch you'd subtly moved away from.

His hips move slow, almost painfully so, and he knows this, teasing you with his hands gliding over your back.

"Ye look so good lass...all this jus' fer me..."

"Johnny please...."

"Aw lass...what did I jus' say?"

"Please...sir?"

"Tha's better....use yer words bonnie...what is it ye want?"

"Faster sir, please?"

You hear the small beg in your voice, sure that by the end of all this you'd be begging a lot more.

"Tha's a girl."

His hand moves to your hip, gripping hard as the other moves to your hair, grasping the roots of it, giving a tug as he moves his hips a little faster, filling you with his size, over and over again.

It's only a minute or so before he seems to loose that idea of torturing you, his pace picking up, hips snapping against yours, that slap of skin on skin, the squelch of your arousal ringing in your ears.

"Fuckkk y/n...." It comes out in nearly a growl, and he pushes your upper half further into the bed.

"Yer doin' so good bonnie...so fuckin' good..."

Another maon crawls its way out of your throat, the others you'd managed to quell, small sounds here and there, but you can't stop this one.

You push your hips against his, letting your knees spread further apart trying to get him in at a deeper angle.

"Please sir, please, fuck-"

The words tumble out of your mouth before you can register what you're even trying to beg for, your figers clench at his sheets beneath you, they smell like him, everything smells like him.

"Y/N..."

His voice is a groan, it's all you hear as he shifts your position, yanking you up by your hair, bringing your back to his chest, thrusting himself upwards into you.

"Johnny...fuck!"

You find your arm going over your shoulder, wraping around the back of his neck, trying to find purchase on something

His lips latch onto your neck as though he's drawn to it, his tongue swiping over your skin and his teeth leaving bites along your throat and shoulders. He breaths hard against you, inhaling your scent.

"Steamin' bloody Jesus..."

He groans, his pace picking up a little further, one hand still brusingly on your hip, the other slides down your front, fingers finding your clit easily.

It brings a moan to the surface of your lips, and rather than being scolded Johnny simply murmers another praise of 'good lass' in your ear, his hips snapping against yours, rythmic.

"Johnny-"

"Y/N..." He huffs, his fingers going faster against your bud. "'M close...need ye to tell me where..."

"Inside Johnny, please...fill me up..."

"Jesus Y/N..."

His voice is breathy, heavy against your skin as he continues, his hips getting erratic, until finally he gives a groan, shoving his face into your shoulder, riding out his climax, the feeling of his cum hitting your inner walls pushing you closer to yours.

He rides out his, moving his hips slightly, much slower than before, and keeps his hand going, trying to keep his previous pace.

"C'mon lass...ye can let go now...it's yer turn..."

He mumbles, breatheless.

It's not much longer of this praising and the movement of his fingers before you do just that, squeezing around him and moaning out his name as you finally reach that high.

As the two of you come down, breathing hard, Johnny still inside you, head leaning against your shoulder, he slips an arm around your waist and offers a gentle kiss to your shoulder.

"Thank ye lass..." he murmers. "Tha' was fun."

"Thank you Johnny."

"Ye ain't gotta thank me...I've wanted to do tha' for god knows how long."

"Maybe we can do it again sometime."

"Oh trust me lass...we will be."

[bbboo556-blog]

Alright this is my first time writing EVER. Feel free to comment on any writing tips. I literally wrote this at 2am.

18+ MDNI GO AWAY

Toji wasn't a good man, and you knew that. He was almost always late to pay you and or short of cash. But how could anyone say no to cute little megumi. You craved his touch. Through short but longing glances, he knew that, too. But you were just the nanny. How could a woman be kicking her feet and twirling her hair at the thought of his large hands roaming her body? Yet there you were at home thinking about him. You knew that he wasn't thinking about you back. He probably had another woman as you held his son in your arms, trying to stop his poor little tears. You put him to bed and climbed into tojis. He typically never came back until the morning anyway and never complained when he saw you laying there before. Except it wasn't like any other night. He came home earlier than usual. He saw you sound asleep and smirked. As soon as you felt the sheets move, you quickly woke up.

"I'm sorry Toji I didn't think you'd be home so early."

"It's fine, doll face. It's still pretty late, you can just stay here with me. It's much safer that way."

You knew what game he was playing but you also knew he was right. It was a stupid idea that you knew would only end in one way. You climbed back into bed and layed on your side while facing Toji. The last thing you wanted to do was give him an easy view of your ass. It didn't stop his eyes from obviously wandering to your chest. For a moment you wondered if he knew he was being an obvious pervert. You could feel your face get warm after looking down to see what looked like a large bulge from his boxers. After what felt like a few minutes you both finally met each other's eyes. That goddamn smile of his worked wonders on you. Enough to miss him moving closer to you.

"Toji aren't you tired? it's pretty late."

"For you doll I could stay up all week if you want me too."

If only he wasn't your weakness would you have stopped what happened next. It started small with a peck on the lips. You didn't fight it at all. Slowly it became two kisses. By the third you could feel your arousal growing and a sharp shiver go up your spine. You gave up quickly not that Toji would ever complain. The make out session turned hot and heavy very fast. you could feel him pull you closer for a deeper kiss. You just wanted to take off that damn shirt of his. Hiding those precious abs you knew he had. You moved your hands to the hem of his shirt. He pulled away from the kiss to take off his shirt. Your jaw almost dropped from his massive pecs alone. He snapped his fingers to bring me back.

"Hey, don't think I don't wanna see you too. Show me that pretty body you think I don't notice."

You stood up to undress for him. First it was your pants. He made you turn around and bend over for good measure. It was embarrassing but so arousing. He could see the wet patch slowly growing.

"Damn you look delicious. Maybe I should just eat you out until you beg me to stop?"

Your eyes widened as you stood up straight. The next item was your top. You pulled the fabric over your head and tossed it to the ground. You could feel his eyes all over. Just to be safe you unhooked your bra. His eyes widened at the sight.

"Get back in bed...now."

You quickly jumped back into bed as he climbed on top of you. Soon enough it was back to kissing with his hands on your sensitive nipples. Part of you was nervous about your growing arousal since it was known to ruin bedsheets and panties. You wrapped your arms around his neck as he left hickeys all along your neck and chest. Your moans just added fuel to the blaze. You could feel his bulge growing bigger somehow. You were sick of the teasing so you took matters into your own hands. You pulled down his boxers letting his cock spring free. It was big just like him. He liked to return the favor and pulled down your panties being just as impatient. Your wetness soaking through your panties. He got a wicked look in his eye and put your panties up to his face to sniff them. His moan instantly made you hornier.

"That's the good stuff, pretty girl but I think it's better I eat the real thing."

And eat like a starved man he did. It was sloppy and made your toes curl. For such a fowl mouth he had a very skilled tongue. But you already knew that. You swear you could see stars just as you hit your climax. You tried to keep quiet not wanting to wake the poor baby. However, Toji was ruthless. He moved up to let you taste yourself as his cock moved to your entrance.

"You're so fucking wet I'm sure it'll slide right in. Just the way I like it."

He was mostly right. You hadn't been the most active lately so after a few pushes he bullied his way inside of you. Your back arched as you felt him bottom out.

"Oh fuck Toji"

Your wish was his command. If you were seeing stars before, now you could see the whole galaxy. His thrust started slow but hard and deep. He built up his momentum until he could properly pound away. You tried to return the pleasure by moving your hips with his or leaving scratch marks along his back but he was feral. Every thrust sends shivers up your spine. It was almost too wet, making a big mess on his cock and on his mattress. You felt overstimulated and weak to his power. If only it didn't feel so fucking good.

"Do you like that doll face?"

He said with a shit eating grin. You tried not to cry out or scream as a response but you did it anyway. What were words? unimportant. Your head was filled with nothing but lust. You could feel it in the pit of your stomach again. You were going to cum. He knew it and wanted every fucking drop of it.

"Is my pretty girl gonna squirt for me? I know you can do it. come on pretty girl I know you wanna do it for me".

His lewd words set you off. Suddenly everything became clear and bright. You made a big mess all over his sheets and abdomen. That nasty fucker didn't care. It made him want more. He pounded you through your orgasm until he pulled out and came all over you.

"That was so fucking sexy doll face. I'd go for more but you look fucked out".

You slowly nod your head in response.

"Here let me take care of the mess we made.''

He pulled out leaving you feeling empty. He picked you up and put you down on the counter in the bathroom. You grabbed a rag and wet it to clean yourself off. He changed the sheets and came back to check on you.

"How do you feel?"

"Amazing."

"Good."

He carried you back to bed after cleaning himself off.

"I hope you don't think that'll never happen again because it will." He gave you that same shit eating grin. Your hand gently touched his scar.

"Only if I get a goddamn raise."

You laughed as you both drifted off to sleep in each other's arms. You both had a lot to talk about in the morning.

[spoonsock]

Starbucks love

Gwen Stacy x reader

Synopsis: Ever wondered what would the one and only Spider Gwen order from Starbucks? Me neither but take this anyway.

Warnings: Idk none I think. Not proofread. Writing this at 2am no joke what is wrong with me. Also DUDE. This is kinda similar to Intruder like wtf am I really that not creative. 😭

Also, fun fact, I’ve never been to Starbucks so if I got something wrong pls lemme know.

You didn’t really mind having a part time job at Starbucks. It wasn’t that bad. All you had to do was take orders, make them, write names on cups with your best handwriting. Sometimes kick customers out. Sometimes maybe serve Spider-woman.

Yup that’s right. It all started yesterday.

It was supposed to be a normal day. You clocked in early and mentally prepared yourself for what awaits you ‘cause you never know what might happen. God, what a good decision it was to say a few positive words before the day started.

Around 10 AM, the shop is not even that filled with people yet, three guys barge in, all of them with a gun in their hands. One of them points the gun at you and then at the register, while the other two guys walk around the people sitting at their tables.

“You empty that thing right now or Imma blow your brains out”. The guy says pointing a gun at your face and you freeze. You don’t move an inch, just stare right at him. Your eyes are not wide, you are not hyperventilating or anything. You are panicking, but not showing any signs of it.

The more you stare at the guy, the more impatient he grows. “What are you? Deaf? I’ll fucking kill you if you don’t take the damn money out this fucking moment”.

As soon as he finishes his sentence, the door of the shop slams open and (literally) twirling in comes, the one and only, Spider-woman. The armed men immediately turn to her and point their guns, but she slouches and puts her hands on her hips, looking at them unfazed.

“Seriously, you guys aren’t gonna make this easy for me, are you?”, Gwen asks and receives no answer. “…Alright then”

Before you can even blink, she hits one of the guys in the face, grabbing his gun and throwing it at the other guy. You watch as the the third guy tries to throw a punch at her face but narrowly misses and she succeeds to grab his arm and twist it, before kicking him in the stomach. She easily webs all three of the unconscious men up and the people from the shop clap. She bows jokingly and makes her way over to you.

“Hey, you okay? They didn’t take any money, did they?”, she asks but you are unable to answer. When the masked guy pointed the gun at your face, it triggered something in you. Pushed an “off” button in your brain and turned everything into blurry stop-motion pictures.

For the record, you’ve never been held at gunpoint. Well, until that day, but you hoped it was the first and last time. You didn’t know why it caused you to act like that. To just freeze and zone out. I mean any normal person would start sweating and fearing for their life, visibly shaking or something but you? It turned you off.

Whatever. Whatever it was, you zoned back into reality when you saw a white hand move in front of your face.

“Helloooo? Earth to..”, Gwen stopped and squinted to read from your name tag. “Y/N? Earth to Y/N! You there?”

You quickly took in your surroundings before pulling yourself together and nodding. “Yeah yeah, I’m. I’m fine. Everything is fine. Thank you. For helping. And for asking. I’m fine”, you stumbled across your words and even behind her mask, you could see Spider-woman hesitantly furrowing her brows at you. She didn’t believe you, obviously. You were a terrible liar.

“Riiiighht, well I’m gonna go then”, she stretched out her words before slowly turning around, picking the masked, armed guys off of the floor and exiting the shop.

Honestly, you thought that was going to be your last encounter, but oh boy, you were wrong.

Because she came back in the very next day.

“Oh, hello?”

“Hi”

“I didn’t really see any thieves or villains in our shop today, but uh, how may I help you?”, you ask, unsure of what was she here for, kinda scared that something bad might happen soon and she’s just there to try to prevent it.

“Uhhh actually I came to see you. A-and to get a vanilla latte. And a chocolate chip cookie. But I’m mostly here to see you”, you felt your cheeks heat up at her words. The famous friendly neighbourhood superhero, Spider-woman, came in Starbucks in which you worked just to see you. Strange.

“Um. Okay.”, you didn’t really know what to say to that. What do you even say in a situation like that??

“Soo, hi. Are you okay? You uh didn’t really look the best yesterday? I-I mean you can’t really look the best after being held at gunpoint anyway. Not that you look bad! You don’t! It’s just that, it must have been traumatic, obviously. Not just for you, I guess for everyone in the shop but-“

“I’m okay”, you decided to stop her rambling. “Thanks for checking”, you gave her a shy smile and she smiled back, you guess, but didn’t say anything. You two just stood there, in comfortable silence, until someone coughed behind the masked superhero and tapped their foot on the ground impatiently.

“O-oh um you uh are you going to order orrrrr….?”, you asked, remembering suddenly that you were at work. Where you are supposed to do your work.

“Oh ah yeah I-I’ll have uuuuuuuuhhh a short vanilla latte and a chocolate chip cookie. Please.”

“You’re seriously going to order the most basic white girl drink?”, you chuckled before you’re eyes widened. “NO. Please tell me I didn’t say that out loud”, you thought. But judging by the silence you were met with and the “o_0 expression” (if you could call it that) your friendly neighbor super hero held, you were wrong. “Oh fudge”, you furrowed your eyebrows before giving her the most sympathetic look you could make.

“I did not mean to say that I am SO sorry. I mean I didn’t even mean to think that it just kinda came outta nowhere, I’ve never said anything like that out loud ever. Or not out loud. I’ve never even thought something like that, honest! I seriously don’t have any idea where this came from I mean I would never ever guess your race- it’s none of my business! And it’s not like race has anything to do with the goddarn drink. It’s a drink! Anyone can order it! I have no say in that and I am SOO-“

“IT’S OKAY”, this time, Gwen interrupted your rambling (finally, it seemed like you could go on and on), “you can uhhh make up for it by, I dunno, maybe, givingmeyournumber?”, she was nervous, but you were oblivious unfortunately.

“Oh. OH YEAH I can do that..I’ll just go get your drink. And you cookie”, your ass has never left a place so fast. “SPIDER WOMAN. WANTS. MY NUMBER”, you squealed in your head while preparing her order.

You returned to her in a few minutes, a cup in one hand and a cookie in the other. “For here or do you want me to put it in a bag?”

“Can you put just the cookie in the bag?”, Gwen asked shyly and you nodded packing the cookie in the paper bag. Taking a sharpie that stood on your side of the counter, you wrote on her cup of latte “For Spidey ♡ by Y/N”, scribbling your phone number underneath and handing the bag and the cup to her.

“Thank you for your visit. Enjoy!”, you said what you always say to your customers and she jokingly gave you a two finger salute, turning around and exiting the shop.

The whole day after her visit, you’d check your phone every two seconds waiting for her text. At this point, you were already at home, watching a movie you picked out randomly to distract you from constantly glancing at your phone. Unfortunately, you were a person who constantly keeps their sound off and the movie actually intrigued you to the point you somehow forgot about the happenings of yesterday and today, at least until the movie ended.

And then it hit you.

You opened your phone to see four new notifications from unknown. FROM AN HOUR AGO.

You could barely contain your excitement. Spider woman. Asked you. For your number. She had your number. And she texted you. You have Spider woman’s number. And you’re about to answer to her texts. Holy quack.

Unknown

Today 20:14

hey, this is spider woman

wow that felt weird to write hahah

anyway thank you for the drink

and your number

You smiled at your phone. Who would’ve thought that she would be so awkward while texting.

Unbeknownst to you, an hour ago, Gwen was panicking hard. At first she didn’t know what to say. She spent 10 minutes just writing and then deleting and writing and deleting words. Eventually, she decided to muster up the courage and send whatever first came to mind.

The moment she clicked on the “send” button, she regretted it. Then she sent another message, to try to fix the situation she put herself in. Only to realize she is just digging her grave deeper. Before she knew it, she sent you four messages, then threw her phone as far away as possible without damaging it too much, to stop herself from sending another text in attempt to “fix the previous”. She grabbed her mask and pulled it over her head, hiding her face from no one in particular.

After a few minutes, she heard a ding from across the room and scrambled from her bed quickly, tangling herself in the covers, getting her leg stuck in them and managing to fall face first on the floor.

Groaning, she reached for her phone from the very position she fell into, expecting to see a text back from you.

“Iphone storage full” was the only notification she received. Gwen placed the phone to where it was, continuing to lay on her bedroom floor with her Spider mask on.

“This is going to be a long night”