#ive known nothing but yearning

[xoxoshifts]

Told an irl that they can prioritize themselves on their birthday and not have to give their partner a gift and they told me I must not understand passion or the longing and yearning that comes with a relationship... mf I'm a shifter of FOUR years, my soulmate is in ANOTHER REALITY, I learned MULTIPLE forms of divination to talk to him you don't even compare to my level of yearning

[day-drawn-blog]

Jealous over Astarion's affections

Pairing: Astarion x Reader -- This is set in Act I

I got triggered by some flirtations banter between him and Shadowheart and I realized, my tav, if anything like me, would probably feel extremely jealous too. We are not together yet, so do I even have a claim on him? I needed to write down this scenario.

Tags: angst, fluff, sadness, angst, fluff, then maybe eventually smut because I do love that

Part I. Crowned light moon of mine - I found you too soon

Part II : Lace your heart with mine Let your sleeping soul take flight

Part III : maybe tonight I'll rest in peace

Part IV: There is much to do and I still want to live

Part V: Our futures bound, our bodies known

Part VI : These ain't my sins, I broke my chains

Part VII: You are not mine and am I truly yours?

Part VIII : your blood like wine, invite me in

Part IX: I'll welcome my sentence and give you my penance

Part X : I can't go yet...don't let me die

--------

What a day. As you all were sitting down next to the campfire, your eyes couldn't help but wander at Astarion. While you all were fairly new to each other, you noticed, Shadowheart was quite comfortable around Astarion. and Astarion was acting quite familiar around her too. You wished you didn't see that. So you quickly averted your eyes. Every one else seemed to be busy being merry, laughing, drinking and having a good time. So why couldn't you relax?

You stood up, intending to clear your head. Why do you feel such a sharp pang. You don't love him. You barely know him, he may not even be a good person for all you know. What had you hoped? That he would favor you over everyone? But why... is it because, you yearn...

You yearn for him.

Your heart lit up. And then, you remembered, he didn't, yearn for you. He likes Shadowheart. The beautiful Shadowheart. And she is powerful. Of course he would. She was like a dangerous flower. But a flower all the same. And you? Just a nobody, with no past, and a future you cannot envision. Nothing to your name. Except for a sword, bound to you by a pact. Power. To dispel enemies. To fight your way in this madness that has engulfed your world. But they weren't enough. Not enough for him to yearn for you...

You ran.

Through the woods, far away from your friends, and the warm fire. Through the darkness, like your racing mind. Till you were out of breath in a field bathed in silver moonlight. And the world was quiet. And you felt welcome by Nature. And loved. By the world around. There was not a soul around, and you broke down, in tears. As you felt sorry for the state your heart was in. And how brutally it was crushed. You blamed yourself for even getting your hopes up.

You wailed.

Your cries could not be heard by anyone here. You felt grateful for the serenity. You lay on the grass, hugging yourself. Before long, you closed your eyes, and were drifting off due to exhaustion. The day was hard. The night even more so.

Your light sleep was interrupted by the sound of twigs cracking under approaching light footsteps. You jolted up and were shocked at the shadowy figure looming over you. Instantly your hand reached for your Pact Weapon, but the other party - just as shocked initially - cried out in self defense. "Its' me! Astarion! Please, I did not mean to scare you. Please."

You lowered your weapon. But he had some explaining to do.

"I am sorry, I - I didn't realize it was you. I - I thought you were someone else. A bandit. And I, I was going to well... I was hungry."

He took a deep breath. Resolved to his fate. "I would never hurt you. Or any of my friends. I want you to trust me."

"Alright, let's say that is true, what did you want with this.. bandit? You wanted to loot him I suppose." You put your weapon away.

"That's the other thing. I am not sure, if I should be telling you this, but, I am so hungry, and .. and I have been very unlucky tonight, you see."

"Did Karlach not leave you any food? Or were you so distracted, talking to Sha- other people, that you forgot to eat?"

"I, I need blood to survive."

Silence followed. Deafening silence. He looked down. As if he was ashamed. Then looked up at your with pleading yes.

Your eyes widened in disbelief. Incredulous, you couldn't believe you had missed the signs that were there all along. Everything pointed to him being a Vampire. So that boar..... But now what? There is a Vampire in your midst! OMG. Had you just put your entire party in danger?! You and your stupid trusting heart. What now? Should you kill him?

"I never, please believe me, I never hurt people I know. Those who are my friends. But please, I am very hungry, I just need... a little bit.. it will help me fight better, and make me feel like myself, again".

He knelt down. On his knees... "If it isn't too much, I only need a little bit - or you are free to stake me".

You looked down at the sorry state he was in. This man who you were yearning for, on his knees, pleading you. He was pleading for your blood. That was the only problem. You didn't want him to, but wanted him to not be in such a state either. You wanted to help him. There went your stupid kind heart again. You never learn.

"Will it hurt?"

Astarion looked up - incredulous that you even entertained the idea. "What? Oh! No, only a little prick. And I can be extra careful too -"

"Does it have to be the neck? Because I don't want-" "And you don't have to - if you don't want to" He had stood up. He lifted your right hand, and lifted it to his lips - placing a light kiss. "I am more than happy, with your hand. May I?" He looked up. A darkness in his eyes. Hunger? Greed? Deception? Maybe all of it. You nod slightly.

He caressed your hand with both of his, dragging his lips over your wrist sending sparks through your body. This felt so wrong, yet your body liked his touch. You could smell his hair, bergamot. He was taller than you. Lit up in the moon, this man was gorgeous. And dangerous, as he was just about to prove himself to be. You looked away as he bared his fangs. You hated anything piecing your skin. Hoping you don't feel a lot, you closed your eyes, and you did not. It was barely a prick like he promised. You were grateful.

After a while, you decided this was more than enough of a favor. You tried withdrawing your hand. He got the hint. He let your hand go and stepped back, and looked at your with a grateful smile. "Would you like me to...escort you back, to camp?"

Should you let him? Weren't you running away from how he was making you feel. Wouldn't Shadowheart notice? What would she think? But, how could you refuse him. After all, you may never get another chance...to walk with him. Through the woods. Just the two of you. Even as friends. Or strangers. You grasped at what you could get.

You two walked back in silence. Him next to you. Every now and again you would look at him. He seemed lost in thought, smiling. You figured he must be thinking of her. Your heart sank, and the gratitude you were feeling at being able to walk next to him, quickly dissipated to pangs of sharp pain again. What started as a romantic moonlit walk quickly turned into an unbearable awkwardness for you, and you wished you were back already. So you quickened your pace.

Very soon, you could see the warm glow of the fire. What a relief. You just need a hug. From Karlach. Or Halsin. And you could forget about the unceremonious way you let your heart pine for a man out of your reach. And upon reaching camp - you did just that. You forsook Astarion immediately and without another glance at him, ran to Karlach and buried your face in her, lest you start crying again. You didn't care what he did, whether he went back to Shadowheart, you did not want to witness that.

Afterwards when the whole camp had quietened down. You hung around with Karlach, Gale and Wyll. You assumed, Shadowheart was in Astarion's tent. And you dare not look that way. You asked those lingering - what their reason to live was. Did everyone have something to live for? What would they do, after all this was over?

An interesting discussion followed. You felt you got to know your comrades a bit better. It made you feel warm. The cold that was left due to the lack on one was filled by the warmth of many, and you smiled. You liked it. And you liked your new found friends.

Later that night, you lay in your tent, and tried to drive away all the thoughts about how no one would miss you. If you were not there, or how you were not as interesting as some of the others. And as you fought hard, with yourself, you realized, that there must be others like you out there who needed someone to know them, to look at them, and value them. And you realized you had a purpose. You could be needed. You could carve out a meaning for your existence in this crazy world. You wanted to be there for those that needed you. You will be the hero. And that would be the reason to exist, you would love yourself, so you can love those who needed to be loved.

And with that comforting thought you drifted away.

Part II : Lace your heart with mine Let your sleeping soul take flight

[leezlelatch]

Two Star Crossed Lovers

Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV | Part V | Part VI

Copia x F!Reader - Forget about this? I hope not! Welcome back. I finally managed to pull up my britches and finish this. This was my first foray into Ghost fanfiction, and not only did it introduce me to a lovely community of writers, but helped me connect with and inspire many of you. I hope this is a worthy finish. And I hope you stick around to see what I do in the future. Thank you. Enjoy.

The wood of your bedroom desk is hard as you rest your chin against it. A sigh escapes your lips known only to aching hearts. You almost kissed Copia. Cardinal Copia. There, so brazenly upon his desk, his biretta on your head. And you think, perhaps, he was going to kiss you too. His utterance to be gentle with his heart echoes through your mind, and you want nothing more than to race back to his office and tell him yes! Yes, you will cradle his heart in the space next to your own because he deserves to be so sweetly and tenderly loved; your silly, beautiful Cardinal.

“What am I supposed to do, Portobello?” You ask your rat companion.

Portobello looks up from his very special pillow resting on the desktop and squeaks in your direction as if the answer is right in front of you. You roll your eyes and rest your cheek on a fist, grabbing a delicate morsel for your favorite boy to nibble on. Portobello rubs his little head against your fingers before snatching the small nut as if it were his first meal in hours, devouring it quickly before huffing in your direction for another.

“You’re right after all,” you say, handing him another. “I can’t just…stay away, and I can’t pretend like nothing happened either.”

Portobello rolls off his pillow to perch before you, standing back on his little legs in a T-Rex pose that makes you giggle. His little hands work to clean off his face, needing to look presentable for the grand speech cooking within his small mind about love, and loss, and birth, and death, and joy, and sorrow. An incredible feat of rodent thinking to get his beloved mother to confess her undying devotion to his father. Here it comes, Portobello Mephistopheles Cosimo Copia is ready.

“Squeak!”

You smile at your baby and scratch his little head. You wonder what it would sound like if rat noises were detectable to the human ear. Either way, there is a level of communication between you that you think is special.

“I know, I know. I already told him that I would come see him today.”

You pick up your phone and click on your most recent text with Copia, smiling softly in amusement:

You glance out the window at the dreary winter day, the tree which stands so proudly outside devoid of life as its branches flutter in the chill. Copia is going on tour soon, you think with a despondent sigh. You need to talk about what happened, you promised him you would, and yet a part of you fears that the heated moment in his office was just that...a moment. Nothing in his text betrays that he is nervous to see you, or is thinking about your almost kiss. You get up and begin to pace, Portobello's little head swiveling left and right as he watches you move.

You know your Copia better than anyone. It's the mantra in your head. You imagine him in his office, picking up his phone and then sitting it back down, the wood of his chair creaking as he fidgets, a hand coming up to run trembling fingers through his hair before falling into his customary nervous tick, forefinger and thumb rubbing anxiously together, the leather of his glove worn and discolored at the tips as he awaits your reply. And then the sigh of relief, the tension leaving his shoulders as he drops his head to the desk surface once you have agreed to lunch.

You stop your pacing to giggle softly, hand to your mouth as you grin around your knuckles. What would it be like? To be Copia's. You do not crave the light, you yearn for the cool, and gentle darkness found in the depths of his eyes. You ache for his embrace, all encompassing, like a blanket of stars across the night sky. His kiss that can snuff out any candle and drive out the hypocrisy of a false God. Darkness is not frightening, or bad...it is a companion. The Dark says you are not lost. You are found. Copia found you.

Resolved, you throw on a sweater and some warm socks, sufficient for walking across the courtyard from the residency to the offices. Portobello is tucked into the neck of your sweater, his head peeking out as you close and lock your door behind you. You live on the third floor in the northwest corner of the building which not only holds the dormitories, but also a recreational facility remodeled on the whim that Papa Emeritus III needed to maintain his "strong physique." But the add-on turned out to be beneficial for everyone not wanting to be caught outside in the Swedish cold.

The kitchens and mess hall are also found within the residency hall, convenient for anyone - Copia and yourself - to sneak out of bed for a midnight snack. But your personal favorite is the library, more specifically, the plush chair in front of the sprawling granite fireplace. The mantle is often decorated with a garland of herbs picked from the gardens to promote a cleansed space for study, thought, and escape into the fantasy realm of books.

The building which houses the clergy offices and classrooms is but a short distance away from the residency hall, their rooves nearly touching. Overall, the grounds form an unfinished rectangle with the church completing the furthest side. The abbey looks like it's falling apart on a good day although it maintains a quaint and reverential charm. Gardens full of vegetables, herbs, and the sweetest flowers pepper the landscape, affording a beautiful and tranquil walk between buildings. The church looms over it all with grotesques of Lucifer and his princes gazing out on the horizon, not the congregation; a reminder of their infernal presence, and deference to free will.

"Off we go, baby boy," you whisper to your rat as you make your way down the mustard runner which stretches down the expanse of the corridor.

The walls haven't been painted in years, and you're almost sure they were white once. A potted plant that is probably fake sits on a chipped console table splattered with pop culture magazines. A couple feet down, a green rotary phone lays off the hook on a wooden desk next to a phone book and a chair that has seen its fair share of booty calls. Slowly, things around the Ministry are improving the more money is made by the Ghost Project, like the recreational facility. Right now, there are just...more important things to attend to first before tackling the quite outdated Sibling dormitories. You find a warmth to the off-70s look, like a home that has been well-lived in, and well-loved.

The trip downstairs is quick, polite hellos not usually required once people see the very large rat poking out of your striped sweater, and you quickly make it to the bottom floor, pushing open the creaking doors to the crisp air outside. It's a little chillier than you anticipate, goosebumps erupting across your skin, the wind whipping through your hair. You hold Portobello a little closer. Your eyes are on the prize, the door to the offices opening and closing as Siblings and Clergy alike walk in and out bundled in coats and scarves. You weave around sleeping hedges and soil thirsty for spring, the fountain which captivated your attention the previous day looking just as chilled as you feel.

"Hej!" A voice calls to you as you pass one of the moving puffy coats.

Spinning around, you shiver, squinting a little as you are slow to recognize the Brother that greets you by name. Sandy hair hidden under a toboggan, grey eyes looking you over behind black framed glasses. Oh, he's from my Latin class, you think down at Portobello, sure your child can read your thoughts. It is your bond.

"Hi. What's up?" It sounds as awkward as you feel saying it. Lucifer, it's cold. Did you make a face? He's looking at you funny.

"Aren't you cold?" He asks, his eyes narrowing in on the lump that is Portobello, now hiding his face into the warmth of your skin.

"I'm good." I'm suffering.

"Okay...well, I was just wondering..."

****

Copia takes a sip of his coffee, a startled “Ai!” jumping from his throat as the scalding liquid coats his lips and mustache. He blots his mouth with a napkin, grumbling about shaving the damnable thing off before staring distastefully down at the brown liquid in his mug, Portobello’s little face printed onto the side of the white porcelain.

“Still hot…” he mutters, pushing back from his chair to move over to the little coffee station he keeps on a small table in the corner.

He has a pot, a couple mugs (although he hasn’t used any except this one you bought for him since), and his favorite dark roast placed next to little packets of hot chocolate he keeps especially for you. Kneeling with a groan, Copia opens the mini fridge under the table to pull out a container of milk, generously pouring it into his coffee. He tests the now pale liquid with a tentative sip, smacking his lips in satisfaction before rising.

Copia slowly steps through his office, patting his belly in a soothing gesture as he walks past the front of his desk, his eyes glancing over the many ledgers which require his attention this morning. He moves close to the window which overlooks the courtyard of the abbey. Frost lingers on the old panes, poor insulation allowing freezing cold air to hit his skin. He shivers a little and takes a sip of his coffee, sighing softly while watching the movement of the unholy congregation as they chat and scurry between buildings.

He holds the cup of coffee with both hands in an attempt to warm them with what little heat the drink has left. Copia hasn't stopped thinking about you, and to be perfectly honest, you are the only thing his mind is able to conjure these days. Every night he lays his weary body into bed, wondering what it would be like to draw you close to him, whispering sweet nothings as you fall asleep in each other's embrace. Perhaps sometimes he wakes from a blissful dream, his arms wrapped around a pillow, to face the painful realization that you are not there with him.

Last night was particularly difficult.

Your almost-kiss. Copia could strangle Terzo for interrupting the very moment he has yearned for since your midnight meeting in the kitchens some months ago. You felt so right in his arms, so entirely his as a blush crossed your cheeks and you smiled at him, that special smile which told him that you were willing to carry the burden of his old heart. Copia touches his fingertips to his lips, closing his eyes as if he can still feel your breath against them. He smiles sweetly, humming with the thought of you.

His eyes snap over to find the clock, and they inadvertently follow a trail from the wall to his desk to his cellphone sitting atop it, the black brick of a thing silent, but carrying your messages from this morning. How Copia agonized over texting you for lunch today, unsure of your response after the previous night. Should he have mentioned it? No, that's a conversation best held face-to-face. Copia wants you to feel safe and comfortable in his presence, and whether or not you choose to pursue a conversation about last night's activities is entirely up to you. He can wait. He will wait. And if you never return his affections, he will be glad to hold even a modicum of your attention.

As his gaze returns to the window, Copia makes a small harumph while taking in the frost on the ground. It’s supposed to be a cold winter, more so than usual, and the annual fight to keep the fireplaces going in these drafty corridors will begin anew. Copia leans a little closer to the window, his breath fogging the glass as he tries to make out a figure below near the fountain. He swipes at the glass with his sleeve, grumbling in annoyance, his eyebrow arching.

“Who in Lucifer’s name isn’t wearing a coat in this weather?” He murmurs to himself, trying to squint. It’s with a sickening drop of his heart into his gut as he realizes it’s you. You turn just enough that he can make out your features as you speak to…who is that? Copia leans so far into the window, his nose smashes into it, the cold shocking him back. Your image is blurred by the outline of his nose, and entirely fed up, Copia opens the window, practically hanging out of it as he peers down at you and the boy with narrowed eyes, his pupil nearly nonexistent in the expanse of white.

The boy stands close to you, too close, head tilted down to speak to you as you gaze up at him with that perfect innocence, that - well, actually you look fairly annoyed. The Cardinal huffs out a laugh as he watches your brow furrow, your feet shifting as you scoot a little farther away. Ah, my precious, The Cardinal thinks. What he does not like, at all, is how you’re shivering. He can practically see how red your sweet nose is from here.

Copia is gone from the window and out of his office door in the span of a few moments once he has gathered his thoughts, has reigned in the raging jealousy burning in his heart and lungs. There were more important things to attend to. That being, dragging his piccolina inside and getting her warm. Oh, you’ll hear it. The last thing he was going to do was let your health be disregarded so. Also, the Cardinal scowls, the boy should know better than to keep you out in the cold for an insipid conversation.

Siblings quickly move out of the way as the Cardinal, red cassock like a slash of blood against a winter’s day, glides through the doors to the courtyard. His eyes are on you like a hawk, his step firm as he approaches you from behind. His lips twist in satisfaction as the boy’s expression drops when his eyes find the advancing Cardinal, even going so far as to take a very big step away from you.

****

You watch with burgeoning fascination as fear flickers across your classmate’s face, and he moves swiftly away from you, throwing out a quick goodbye as he heads toward the residency. You tilt your head to the side, momentarily thrown off, watching his retreating back with barely contained relief.

“Sibling.”

Copia’s voice has you whipping around so fast, you feel Portobello slip down your sweater. Your hands come up to instinctually cup the lump underneath, and you watch Copia’s eyes flicker down to it with amusement before sharpening as they return to your face. You’re wracked with shivers from head to toe, eyes widening at the Cardinal’s rapidly hardening features.

“I believe we had an appointment,” the Cardinal continues, motioning with his head to follow him before he turns and heads back inside, not even looking to see if you’re following. You know better than not to, and make your way after his rapidly retreating figure. The warmth of the office building is a relief to your chilled skin, however your hands begin to burn, red and dry from the cold. You adjust Portobello, returning him to the neck of your sweater, his little feet resting under the lip of your bra. Copia doesn’t stop until he reaches his office, opening the door and gesturing inside with cool politeness as clergy members alike walk back and forth down the corridor.

You enter with trepidation, unsure of what to expect, your eyes falling on his half-filled cup of coffee sitting on the desk next to your Cardinal’s mountains of paperwork. You feel bad that he had to run all the way outside to fetch you, but your brow furrows with mirth when you notice the nose shaped smudge on the window. Was Copia watching you? Your cheeks heat. Was he jealous you were speaking to the guy from your class? Your heart gives a little pitter patter at the thought, and you have to school your features as you turn on your heel to face Copia. He closes his office door behind him, and then his hard expression drops in an instant.

The man is on you in a second, his gloved hands gripping your shoulders as he practically lifts you from the floor to deposit you by the fireplace. “Mio tesoro prezioso, dov'è la tua giacca!?” He frets. Copia falters for a moment, his hands out and fingers wiggling as he looks about the room for something, anything to wrap around your shoulders. With a determined frown, Copia hastily begins to remove his cassock, ripping the fascia off his waist to tangle on the floor in order to reach the buttons.

“Copia, this isn’t necessary,” you try to say, looking slightly alarmed with the ferocity in which he pulls the blood red material from his back to wrap around you.

“What isn’t necessary, amore mio, is your insistence to walk around outside without any coverings! You could freeze. Oh, your povere mani,” he groans, voice cracking as he reaches out to cradle your hands in his own, thumbs trying to work at your red skin to create friction. “What if you get frostbite, eh? What will your Cardinal do then?”

“...I’d imagine you wouldn’t be happy,” you murmur, eyes fixated on your hands.

“Certo.”

Copia pulls off his gloves, the leather looking stretched and wrinkled when not tight against his large, beautiful hands. You admire the dark hair on the backs of them, a small smile flitting over your features that broadens as he slides the gloves onto your own. The leather is so warm, wrapped around your hands like a hug, albeit a loose one that makes the both of you smile. Your eyes meet Copia’s and his expression is soft, freckled cheeks tinted pink as he gazes down at your hands, a slow smile creeping across his lips. He appears almost entranced by the sight of his gloves on you, his own fingers squeezing the material and trying to ensure they are on as tight as possible.

Copia catches your eye and blushes harder, clearing his throat, although he doesn’t let go of your hands. “Why were you outside, huh?” He murmurs, angling you a little closer to the fire. His eyes take in your entire form as if looking for any injuries brought on by the frigid weather. You can’t help but admire him in his black slacks and clergy collar, a sight you’re not very used to seeing. Copia is very rarely not pristinely dressed in his vestments when working, and when he isn’t, he prefers soft lounge clothes. Out of the hundred things you imagined was under his cassock, the black business casual outfit was farthest down the list. Although the hint of suspenders underneath is doing more for you than the fire.

“I was coming to see you, like we planned, but then that guy from my Latin class-,”

“Ah, he is a classmate? What eh…what did he want?” Copia interrupts you, his eyes falling to the crackling flames as his lips twist in displeasure. It makes you smirk, an eyebrow raising as you take in the tense set of his shoulders.

“He was asking me out,” you say as casually as possible.

“Che cosa!?” Copia’s head snaps back to attention so fast you’re worried it’ll fall off his neck, and you even put your hands up in surprise. His eyes are wide, the white nearly narrowing into a slit. This all happens in a matter of a moment before his expression melts, the circles under his eyes deepening as all color drains from his face and his gaze drops to the floor. “Forgive me. I…shouldn’t question what you do in your personal life. That is…eh, not cool.”

“Copia, I’m joking. He asked for class notes. That’s all,” you soothe, fingers coming up to gently touch his cheek. His lips part in a small gasp and his eyes flick to your fingers and then to your face.

“Hmm, not a nice joke,” he says softly, although there’s a small smile playing on his lips.

“No, it isn’t,” you agree.

There’s a beat of a moment between the two of you, your gloved fingers gently sliding across his cheek, rough with age and very warm. You notice a few flyaway hairs and brush them back behind his ear. Copia closes his eyes, blowing out a long breath through his nose. His hands cup yours and bring them to his chest, his fingers squeezing the leather wrapped so lovingly around them.

“We need to talk,” he whispers, his eyes opening, reflecting a heady desperation within the green and white depths. “But I am afraid, topolino.”

“What are you afraid of?” Your voice is equally quiet, your body gravitating closer to his. You reflect on the past several months. From meeting Copia in the Ministry kitchens to saving the rat who chooses this moment to climb from your shirt and settle on your shoulder. Copia chuckles softly, scratching Portobello fondly behind the ears.

“I’m afraid of losing this. I’m afraid of being alone again. I’m afraid of another decade roaming these halls at night like a wraith because I can’t be alone with my thoughts. I’m afraid of being cold again,” Copia sucks in a breath, blinking away the tears that are rapidly filling his eyes. “I’m afraid of losing my love.”

“Hmm,” you let out a small laugh, feeling the burn of tears behind your own eyes. “So all those ‘amores’ were real.” You give him a wobbly smile as he laughs a little, tears finally dropping and sliding down his cheeks.

“Sì, sì. I am not too subtle, eh?”

You take a steadying breath, your fingers gently wiping away his tears which sit on his gloves like rain droplets. “Copia, you could never lose me.” Your voice breaks slightly. “Knowing you has been the most beautiful experience of my life. And I want more of it. I want…,” you trail off, and turn to look at the rat on your shoulder, a smile brightening your features. “What do you say, ‘Bello? Should I kiss your daddy?” You hear Copia make a noise between a gasp and a squeak as Portobello’s little paws come up to clean his face. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

You turn and wrap your arms around Copia’s neck, drawing very close to him. His hands flail at your sides for a moment before settling at your waist, his eyes as wide as dinner plates as he blinks down at you. “What do you say?” You whisper to him, your lips inches apart, breaths intermingling. “Amore?”

Copia smiles. Wide and crooked and radiant. He’s practically shaking in your grasp, and laughs a little incredulously before his eyes flutter closed, long lashes kissing his cheeks. “I say,” he murmurs, accent heavy and deep. “Ti amo cosi tanto.” And then his lips descend on yours.

His hands slide around your back and he crushes you to him, chests flush as he thoroughly kisses you with deep, long strokes of his tongue. He explores your mouth as if he is trying to imprint your taste onto his tongue. Months of pent up frustration breaking in a moment of unbridled passion on a cold winter’s day. Copia whimpers softly into your mouth, and at this point you can’t tell if the tears on your cheeks are his or yours.

You break away with a gasp, but Copia needs you close, unable to truly pull away just yet and cradles you against his body, his hand along your jaw as he presses little kisses to your cheeks, your chin, your neck. Anywhere his wandering lips can reach. He whispers sweet things to you, words you can’t understand but know all the same. Copia smooths your hair from your face and just gazes down at you with complete adoration, his head tilting to kiss your lips softly again - once, twice, a third time.

You giggle softly in a dreamy state that makes him smile that smile again, the one that reaches his paints. “Have something to say, piccolina?” He says softly.

“I’m pretty speechless…”

“That would be a first, hmm?”

He kisses you again as you begin to roll your eyes, and you sigh into the bliss of it all. His thumbs rub circles into your cheeks, his kiss unhurried and lingering. You press a hand to his chest and push lightly, and you pull away with a smacking noise as a confused frown crosses his features.

“I nearly forgot!” You say, smiling up at him. You take a deep breath, the next words from your mouth feeling so easy and so right, and something you should have done a long time ago. “Copia, I love you too.”

Copia’s arms wrap around your waist and he pulls you with him as he brings the both of you to the floor, his arms and legs locking you into a hug. His nose nuzzles at your cheek as he holds you so incredibly close, a boyishness to the older man as he radiates joy and warmth. “Ti amo, ti amo, I love you,” he whispers over and over again into your ear, his mustache tickling you. “You have given me everything. Oh, my world is so bright. Ah, my heart.”

Your fingers slide up his back, and you lean into his embrace, closing your eyes and enjoying the glory of your newfound love. Everything, finally, is going to be okay. Your life is going to be okay…no, it’s going to be more than that. It is going to be glorious. Happy. Full of love. Full of Copia.

There’s a sliding sound and Copia’s paperwork goes crashing to the floor in a small explosion of paper. You both look up, Portobello having at some point during the last few minutes left your shoulder and made his way to Copia’s desk. He sits in the center of the desk, looking innocent as can be.

“We should have another one,” you say, smirking as you look at your outraged Cardinal. He gives you a withering glare. “I’m just saying, he might-...” Copia cuts you off with a kiss.

And you definitely recommend co-parenting a rat.

[gloriousburden]

OKAY so. I got a few but the first one I got is kind of an idea I got for a fic that I might write in the distant future. Idk how you feel about soulmates AU but — I had tremendous thoughts about Loki with a mortal soulmate who he rejects at first... Sorry if it's not your cup of tea or if you expected something else.

"I shall utilize rudimental terms, so that your feeble mind will grasp what I am insinuating. You and I could never, ever, work together. Whatever dreamscape or fantasy you have thought, completely eradicate it from your ignoble little head. Have I made myself clear, Midgardian?"

The mark upon your wrist throbbed, myriad of pins and needles carelessly thrust in the tissue of your pumping heart. It bled, stung, punctures morphing into erratic lacerations that dotted over your gentle muscle; now unruly, turbulent, tremulous.

A twitch, then another — your fingers, hands, could not stop trembling. This could not be.

You would not believe it. It was a lie.

Lies, lies.

Years of yearning for the one your mark signified, "destined" to be yours — yet here he is looming over you, assured and convinced, that your souls are anything but to be bound together. A lie, it had to be, an horrid, humorless lie, constructed and planned to shatter you in all the worst, possible ways known to man.

Please, let it be a lie.

He scoffed, blinking; yet you still could not . . . realize, process it. The ache grew — wounds more severe.

"Mortal, I have already frivoled away far enough time for this. Speak. Now." He huffed impatiently, and it only drove you to cower more.

It's a lie. It's a lie.

You parted your lips.

"You . . . You would not even, not even consider —"

And you did not even get to finish.

His brow creased, turquoise irises that seemed ethereal before, now gleaming with contempt; so foul and appalling, such disgust. Sentiments that did not grace his features, you thought. Sentiments a soulmate should never bring to another.

Was it truly your fault?

"Oh, by the Norns — of course it would not work," His disdainful and condescending tone did nothing to ease you — so utterly, unfathomably cruel. "What is there to consider? You are a Midgardian, I am a God. Your measly lifespan is a second to mine. It is illogical you are my soulmate. I refuse to believe it,"

You. You.

"Conceivably I'd grasp it if you were an Asgardian plebeian. Alas, you are not — some years, and whatever sentiment bloomed between us would be irrevocably disintegrated, crumpled in but a few moments. Surely you realize, no?" He raised his brows, slightly tilting his head. "It is better if we both . . . austerely cease this afore it dooms us."

Perhaps you have fantasized too much. Perhaps you were too hopeful. Yearning for that other, only to not be wanted in return. Cast away.

Your soulmate did not want you.

How . . . lucky. Truly. You had yet to find someone rejected by their "other half". You were just so, so so lucky.

Okay and I'm too tired to continue it but... do you see the view. It's all angst I know but... Do you see it. Like, an immortal × mortal with the former who expected everything but this and the latter that has everything to give and more as they've waited so long for this moment only to get this... and yeah angst ensues but I won't get to that sorry if I went overboard lol. Do you see it tho...

NO ACTUALLY IVE THOUGHT ABOUT THIS A LOT AND I LOVE FICS WITH THIS TROPE… OMG

THIS IS PERFECT. LIKE SERIOUSLY. You are an amazing writer, wow! I see it, and I hear you loud and clear….

This will be living in my mind rent free for the next couple… forever.

I love the angst omg this is crazy because I always think of the soulmate trope with him EXACTLY like this. You’ve took this from my mind, and made it a THOUSAND times better. Thank you for that.

I’m loving the dialogue so much too. I’m usually very picky on how Loki is written, but this is perfect.

Anon I love you please do not ever doubt yourself or your writing this is more than I could’ve ever dreamed of receiving in my asks. Like I’m honored.

If you have a blog or anywhere you post your writing I would love to check it out and share your work! AND IF YOU WRITE A FIC WITH THIS, PLEASE LET ME KNOW!!!

ONCE AGAIN, I LOVE THIS. The angst, the dialogue, UGH it is perfect. I wish I could express how much I love this in a better way LOL THANK YOU ANON ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

ALSO… I was listening to the song “Neon Moon” while reading this. Omg why do the lyrics kind of fit this???

[eydi-andrius]

Fool Entire III

warnings: none, a flashback, nobles being nobles but none so far

pairings: Aemond Targaryen x Highborn!Reader

summary:

If someone asked you who Prince Aemond was in your life, you probably would have said the love of your life.

Years have passed but still your heart yearns for him. 

But you were no fool.

It was a lesson learned for you not to give your heart to a man who knows nothing but duty. Highly inspired by the song Bitter Water by Oh Hellos.

a/n: well... i don't think i did well on that interview but yeah i did my best. hehe! Anyway, here it is! i'm so excited to share this with you! also, i will not do a tag list anymore as there's no changes with the reads that i have if I have them or not. you may click your notifications on for my page to get new updates

Your comments are really important to me but it is easier for me to see it if you use reblog. It will also help more readers to see my work. Thank you, lovelies! Part I, Part II, Part III, Part IV

++++++++++

There was a well-known story about a young lord who was stripped off his title as heir when he pursued his dream of singing. 

He was ridiculed and was later banished. The last time the people of King's Landing heard from him was when he traveled to Essos. 

Since then, no one knows what happened to him. They believed he died singing. At least he was serenaded by his tunes before he was captured and killed by the Dothraki, the whispers have said. 

"Uncle, why are you braiding my hair so slowly?" The girl at a young age of five grumbled and pouted as she tried her best not to move so her uncle could finish fixing her hair. 

"Then why did you come for me to fix your hair? You can always ask your servant to help you with it." The young man said as he picked up the laces to lock her hair. He made sure to tighten it this time to prevent the knot from falling. 

"No way! If I come back with my hair in disarray, they will tell my teacher in etiquette about it. She will hit me again." The girl turned to his uncle with a frown. Cheeks were puffed as she pursed her lips in disapproval. 

The uncle's eyes softened at that and he sat down in front of her so their eyes would meet. 

"Then don't hesitate to come for me again so I can fix your hair, yes?" He smiled and the young one cheered and hugged him tightly. From a hug, he surrounded his arm to her tiny form and picked her up with a groan. 

"Oh darling! You sure are getting heavier!" He grumbled again when he straightened his back and heard a loud pop from the action. 

"She's growing well isn't she?" A woman wearing a gray dress sauntered forward in their direction. She was holding her round huge belly and by the looks of it, she was about to give birth soon. 

"Why are you here? I thought you're not feeling well?" The man asked with a worried look as the girl shouted "mother!" and requested to be put down so she can come running towards her. 

The girl immediately came beside the woman and held her hand. She helped her sit down at a nearby chair. 

"I am fine. I feel suffocated being in the same room for days now. A change of scenery will not hurt the babe." The woman muttered a quiet thank you to the girl with a smile. 

"And also, I missed your voice. Would you sing for me before I could have this child?" The woman smiled at the man. Before he could protest tho, the girl jumped from joy after hearing her mother's request. 

"Would you, uncle?! Please sing the song….Ahhh….that….umhh…Dragon Lullaby!" She said in a high pitched tone as she excitedly requested her new favorite song. 

The man learned that song once while staying on the Red Keep. He doesn't really know what the full meaning of the song was. He just knew that it was sung in Valyrian and it was known as Dragon Lullaby. 

With a smile and a sigh, a sign of him giving up, he opened his mouth and started singing. Soft voice echoed throughout the room. The mother closed her eyes enjoying the song while the girl started humming as she tried to imitate her uncle. 

Drakari pykiros

Tīkummo jemiros

Yn lantyz bartossa

Saelot vāedis

Hen ñuhā elēnī:

Perzyssy vestretis

Se gēlȳn irūdaks

Ānogrose-

However, the song was interrupted as footfalls echoed to the hallway. There stood the father of the girl and husband of the pregnant woman, wearing a smug grin on his face. 

"Wonderful as always brother." He clapped mockingly as he moved forward, standing beside the girl, who looked terrified as she grabbed her mother's hand. The lady cooed her and moved her nearer. 

"Brother, what brings you here?" With a tight lip, the uncle straightened and looked unsure to his younger brother's eyes. 

"Hmmmm….Father was looking for you."

"He does? Do you know why?" 

"You'll see." The younger brother grinned, too happy for the atmosphere he created. 

With an uncertain look, he bid his farewell to the girl and lady. He gulped as he walked past his brother. 

When the younger brother made sure his brother was out of earshot, the man laughed maniacally. Scaring his daughter and wife. 

With a quiver in her voice, the wife boldly asked, "Is there something amusing, dear husband?" 

"Nothing at all. Just prepare yourself to be called the lady of the house soon." He laughed while sharing the good news to her, but terrible news to the wife, who adored the older brother like her true friend. 

"What do you mean?" Eyes-widen, the lady stood up abruptly scaring the young girl beside her more. 

"Throw all of your affections away towards my older brother now. I am sure he will be banished soon." The man gave the lady a sneer before he abruptly left after dropping the announcement that shattered the woman's heart with worry. She tried to calm down her nerves but her breathing became worse.

She was heaving when she sat down and clutched her stomach. A pained groan left the lady's lips as she felt a contraction on her stomach. 

The girl's eyes widened in fear and she immediately went near her mother. She asked her many questions about what she was feeling when she felt her shoes got wet from water that came out of nowhere. She traced down the source of it with her eyes and fear overtook her when she realized where it came from. 

"Run and tell a servant that I am giving birth." Even in pain, her mother managed to tell her what she needed. With a nod, she ran towards the door and out on the hallway looking for help. 

~~~~~

"Uncle……what are you doing here?" She was feeling many emotions at once but the one that resurfaced was confusion as she frowned at the man who looks older now with grayish hair. 

Her family believed he died after he went to Essos. Not that his death was mourned by them, as her family hated him for choosing a foolish dream instead of being a lord. Her mother does though and she remembered she does too, missing his voice and the way he helped her hide that he secretly fixed her hair so the matron will not know she did not behave like a lady that day. 

She thought she'll forget his face when she gets older but she can still recognize him. His father's older brother, his mother's dear friend. He is here. Standing in front of you, alive and well.

The old man opened and closed his mouth, trying to speak but couldn't. His eyes were wide, stance quivering from relief. Until a tear left his eyes and he crumbled in front of you. 

"Oh thank the new gods! I thought of you two as dead. Many have told me to expect it but I did not believe any word they said." As his knees weakened with relief, he fell down on the floor and by instinct, you went to his side and asked for his well-being. 

"I'll go get water." You heard your sister say as she went to the kitchen. You can hear water being poured to a cup but all your attention was on your uncle. 

He was mumbling about almost losing hope he will ever find the both of you. Being a young noble lady, alone to fight the world, the chances of surviving were very slim but he did not give up.

Instead, he searched every corner of Westeros and followed any trail they provided him. He doesn't care about how tiring it was. How expensive. He cannot lose his nieces. The children of her dear friend. 

You helped him to sit back down on the nearby chair and your sister helped him to sip a cup of water to help calm him down. You asked him to breathe, slowly, in and out. And he followed you even with shaky breaths. Once he deems that he is alright, you step back and stand beside your sister. She looked at you, confused and somewhat curious. 

"I apologize for my behavior earlier. Your sister might be confused about who I am. Allow me to reintroduce myself. I am your uncle, your father's brother. The known family shame if they refuse to talk about me properly as I know my family well more than anyone." He introduced himself with a bitter chuckle.

"Oh….you are the…." Your sister raised her finger and looked at you as if asking your permission as she was uncertain to mention something rude. 

"Yes, the one who was supposed to be dead after pursuing his useless dreams. Eaten by the Dorthraki, dismembered, you name it." He said ever so casually.

"Don't be surprised that I know. The people won't stop talking about it for a while. I memorized every tale by now." You can't help but give a low chuckle on how he shared his story. The nobles will never change. And you won't be surprised if he is still under scrutiny. 

Your sister also gave a kind laugh, followed by your uncle as you three looked at each other and understood the struggle that the rumors brought into your lives. 

After a while, you three stopped laughing and you stared at your uncle. You gave him a smile before you ran towards him and gave him the biggest, warmest hug. 

"Oh! I am so glad to see you safe and sound. I myself do believe the rumors that you might be dead but I am thankful that the gods let us see each other again. Come here, Rhea. Meet our uncle. Our mother's closest confidant and friend, who has the voice of an angel and a talent in music." You gesture to your sister to come towards your direction and she did not hesitate to hug him as well. He grunts as he was surprised by your sister's weight as she gave him a tight hug. 

"I know you, uncle! And not by the rumors! Mother won't stop talking about you and she made sure that we will get only the best stories about you." She gave a wolfish grin and proudly shared the stories she heard and believed. 

Your uncle then gave a bashful smile as he made himself humble with the praises your sister keeps throwing his way. Your mother truly loved your uncle, not just a friend but also as a brother. 

However, despite the happy reunion, something keeps bugging inside your mind. As someone who was used to the slum, you must always listen to your gut instinct because it will always save you from harm. It never failed you, not even once. 

That's why after your sister and uncle talked about each other, you can't help but utter the question you wanted to ask. 

"If it was true that you lived a hard life, then I don't understand how you were able to search in every corner of Westeros, if you don't have the gold to help you with finding both of us?" Both of your sister and uncle lost their smiles as you've asked about the obvious. You cannot risk it. When he mentioned about a hard life and still living as much as he can through music, something doesn't seem right. And you have to know about it. Not that you do not trust him but you have been betrayed by the very people who swore to love and cherish you, just to be discarded the next day. You have to know. 

With the question being thrown, the atmosphere changed and your uncle looked more serious.

"I…..Rest assured that it wasn't my intention to hide any of this from the two of you. I thought, maybe, I will share this once I've got to hear your stories and you've got to hear mine but since you have asked and I don't want you to not trust me, I will share how I was able to search every corner of Westeros." His hand tightened holding the wooden cup of water. Uncertain, he tipped it unto his mouth and drank, probably for strength on whatever he had to reveal. 

"It was true that the money I used to search for the two of you came from our family." He continued as he licked his lips.

"That's impossible. The pirates seized all of our own." You denied. 

"I know. But it did come from our riches…..You see when I heard about what happened to our house, I went back to King's Landing and did my best to convince the nobles to help me take it back and find you, my nieces. However, no one batted an eye. All I got was mocking from all of them. Until he came to me." He bit his lips and worry etched on his face. 

"Who?" Curious, you asked.

"He asked me why it must be saved. And I told him the hidden mine, our family heirloom where our riches came from. It will be helpful in bringing stability to the kingdom and also will strengthen our land and sea, aside from the power the sea snake has brought to us. When he asked how I know it will still be intact after my brother's reign, I told him that even my father does not know about that reserved. My grandmother was the one who shared it with me and I hold the map for that hidden treasure. I have to reveal it because I know that's the only one that can save us and our family……I thought at first, he would not believe me, but then the next day came and we looked for it. We found the place and he assisted me in convincing the King to take back our land." He continued the story and you can't help the pang inside your chest. You can feel it gurgling inside you. You are scared of whatever this might be. 

"Who is he, uncle?" You asked again and this time, he looked you in the eye before speaking again.

"You see……the second son had no power nor land on their name. So they have to create their own. I convinced him that if he was able to defeat the pirates and grow our land back, I would give it to him and I would be his aide. And as a promising young man with ambition, he did. He was able to and the land was awarded to him. No one knows tho. As the King and King's hand were scared if he fails but despite winning, he told them to keep it a secret still. But I can't do that to you. I know what you've been through…"

Shaking your head you took a step back with labor breath, not accepting what your uncle was telling you about. 

A promising young man who was able to convince the King and King's hand….. The second son. There is no one that fits that description other than him.

"Don't tell me that you brought him here. To me….?" You asked, frightened about him appearing on your door any time he wants to. Silver hair, body clad with leather armor, eye patch intimidating anyone who crosses his path.

"No! No! No! Don't misunderstand. I never told him about today. I found the two of you by accident and coincidence. I was roaming around the street when I saw a lady wearing a familiar stitched beautiful dress. I asked her who made it because I know that style was from your mother's." He quickly defended himself but you can't help but still worry. 

"I will never force the two of you to come back to court. I know how cruel it was. How much you've suffered. However, I know that being here is much more dangerous than when you were in court. A former noble lady is a good product for a slave. I know because I've seen it first hand in Essos. I am proud of what you have accomplished by yourselves but you also must understand my worry as the streets become riddled with new dangers everyday. I will respect whatever you decide but in my heart, I hope that the three of us will be together and we can protect each other." 

You can't remove the sincere eyes of your uncle as you finally waved him goodbye when he left your home. All of the things he mentioned were true. 

And despite not seeing him for years, something inside you believes that he is being true to his words.

You would lie if you never worry about the safety of your sister as she slowly grows up as a fine lady. 

A poor woman will never survive the streets alone. Dangers will be lurking twice scarier than a man faces everyday.

You can never live with him especially since your uncle was his aide. But you are no fool not to think about it.

You have grown street smart and there's a part of you that thinks maybe living with your uncle is better than starting from the slums. 

You shook your head to remove the thought when you heard your sister's voice from behind. There will be a right time to think about that. 

Right now, you must focus on what you need to do. Finish the dresses and sell them tomorrow. You also need to buy new supplies. You reminded yourself to talk to Simon and help the two of you to carry your things.

Yet, a question remains inside your head, as to why he helped your uncle. Was it truly because of the honor or something else? You laughed at yourself for even thinking he has other motives that include you. That was from your old self, to whom you did your best to bury, who keeps resurging whenever he was mentioned.

He doesn't care.

Best to focus on you and your sister's future. 

[esse-lunam]

an introduction to: my 90s fame dr!

please read this god please there's art in here also ive put 5+ months of work into this dr at this point so i swear that there's interesting shit in here yall I SWEAR I AM NICHE.

reblogs greatly appreciated! this took me forever teehee

ohhh my god this is a long time in the making, ive put this off for so, so long and i really couldn't tell you why. this can act as a script me into ur dr post if you like as well!

for starters, you can find my pinterest board for this dr here :3 just in case u want some cool visuals i guess :3

-

so lets get the basics outta the way shall we?

full name: marley jo veitch

nicknames: mar, marley barley, mars bars, tink (reserved for s/o), living poet (public figure nickname type deal? yknow how stevie nicks gets called the white witch? yeah that)

pronouns: they/she

DOB: june 1st, 1970 (which makes me a gemini btw!)

occupation: musician (piano, violin, guitar n bass, some drums, and saxophone), poet, author (fiction and nonfiction), actor on occasion, also a comedian that one time

skills: all things music + writing basically, film analysis, pop culture analysis i guess, home decor, drawing, fashion?, and being the most autistic person in the multiverse

appearance stats: 5'3", 145ish lbs, long brownish-reddish hair with some light brown highlights in there, sorta wavy but barely

body mods: COVERED in tats (theres a tattoo section on the pinterest board but i also drew some so), septum piercing, snake bites, and a fair few ear piercings. and also i have glasses but thats not a body mod thats just a thing on my body.

"workin and workin't? you have a job?" more on that later!

-

relationships and such! with photos!

s/o: robert sean leonard

"hey, do i recognise this guy?" you might! he played notable roles such as neil perry in dead poet's society, claudio in much ado about nothing, and james wilson in house md!

best friends: dylan kussman, allelon ruggiero, alexandra powers, and kimya dawson

"do i recognise more of these people?" again, probably! dylan, al, and alex were all in dead poets society, and kimya is a musician best known for her indie songs, some featured in the movie juno!

-

my career! (oh good lord)

writing based - undedicated musings

(1986-1993)

alright so this is a bit hard to explain, bear with me. undedicated musings is an anonymous newsletter-based poetry... publication? run by me, under the pen name 'chartreuse', and the whole shtick is that i write poetry, love letters, and whatever else to the person i'll end up spending my life with, but the recipient of said writings is completely unknown, even to me, so im kinda just writing to nobody. until! i actually set my eyes on someone (obviously rsl) and then the writings start to get a bit more specific and yearn-y and personal. since the recipient is anonymous, all the writings are written for a 'vermillion'. both chartreuse and vermillion's identities are revealed when we get married in 1993. and no, rsl doesn't know that i'm chartreuse, nobody does until i reveal myself. i think its kinda cool :3

film based - dead poet's society

(1988-1989)

so for starters, i was part of the crew that worked on the set of dead poets society, now all my friends (except kimya, her and i become friends in the late 90s) make sense! my actual job on set is kind of a vague be-here-and-do-a-bit-of-everything type deal, so there's no set title beyond "assistant to lead" even tho it's essentially government assigned 'friendship' LMAO. but! me and the cast get on like a house on fire, so i kinda just get to tag along on their wacky teenage-ish boy adventures. this totally does not stem from a desire to be part of a teenage boy friend group, and i am, in fact, totally cisgender. i am also lying. anyway, without going into too much detail, me and my s/o-not-yet-s/o (will be referring to him as rsl from this point on) sorta have a painstakingly long will they wont they type deal, because i guess i like torturing myself. we meet a day before all the actual film stuff starts just as a sort of preliminary get to know eachother because you'll be in close proximity VERY often for months. thats some time in march - june-ish? of 1988 (i shift to my dr the day before!) and we don't actually get together until june of 1989. so.

also! some changes to the movie because i can make those: knox overstreet is now played by matthew lillard instead of josh charles, because josh charles is a fucking zionist and i dont want to associate with him in any reality! knox also isnt a b plot to the movie at all, instead focusing on meeks and pitts because i find them much more interesting! and also knox's b plot is creepy as hell! also, the racism against natives (read this!) is completely gone! no thanks!

music based - MAURZI

(1988-2004 technically)

strap in boys because this is the main event of this dr and the lore is VAST. MAURZI (must be spelled in all caps, like MF DOOM) is a sort of musical person/character i've made to tell the story of via a series of albums. i release my first single in october of 1988 titled "lunarian", which is a fun little song about a being from the moon arriving on earth and having some inter-planetary culture shock. and thats the only song i've actually planned! i release 6 total albums that map out the MAURZI storyline kinda

- MAURZI (1989)

- GONE TO SHIT! (1991)

- Charmed (1992)

- I found Him in Santa Barbara (1995)

- Waterworks (1998)

- also bibliography (2004) but those are released as songs By Me and not MAURZI, just released under the same artist. MAURZI storyline ends with Waterworks.

now here's where you get the very extensive MAURZI lore. MAURZI is a sort of alternate-universe representation of me, where in i'm much more famous than i actually am in my dr, and i am absolutely RUINED by my fame in a fuck ton of ways. each album is a different section of her life so i'll explain it album by album. also for reference, in my dr capitalism/ currency isnt a thing, but in the MAURZI... verse? it is. because i like anti capitalist art! same goes for most other media im in/ participate in, actually. MAURZI uses she/her pronouns btw, i dont.

MAURZI - my self-titled album is about as close and personal to my life as i'll get, which an average amount because i still throw in some songs about shit that i have not at all done/ experienced. (ex. songs about cheating, toxic relationships, and things along those lines. thankfully ive had a mostly healthy relationship with relationships! except that one time!) MAURZI is new to the music scene but she's here to make some lovely tunes to help process some stuff! artists im taking inspiration from include (but are not limited to): sarah kinsley, dodie, jeff buckley, tv girl, mitski, and peach pit.

GONE TO SHIT! - MAURZI's first album blew the fuck up! now she's thrown into the midst of dealing with an incomprehensible amount of attention on her at all times, which she was absolutely not prepared for. what does she do to cope? sex drugs and rock n roll, baby! she also gets addicted to 2 outta those 3 things! can you guess which ones?? now, obviously, this album is entirely fictional and is only tangentially inspired by some life events, heavy emphasis on the tangentially. artists im taking inspiration from include (but are not limited to): the nonstick pans, panic! at the disco, forest, david bowie, chappel roan, and king gizzard & the lizard wizard.

Charmed - the love song album! this is basically comprised of songs i sorta wrote about rsl, but changed up a fuck ton because i wrote them while i was pining and did Not want him to knkw who they were about. in terms of MAURZI stuff, she meets someone just after deciding that she's gotta clean up her act if she wants to exist healthily. recovering alongside a loved one and them being a motivator for recovery! now i should specify here that MAURZI's s/o is not the same as mine, and is entirely gender neutral/ doesn't even have a canon(?) human appearance at all. they're named Vermillion because we love a callback! artists im taking inspiration from include (but are not limited to): the smiths, siouxsie and the banshees, james blake, queen, laufey, and her's.

I found Him in Santa Barbara - yknow how when a banana ripens too much and it starts to tuen brown? yeah imagine that logic but applied to recovery, i guess. NOW IS A GOOD TIME TO REITERATE THAT MAURZI AND I ARE TWO DIFFERENT PEOPLE AND MAURZI IS JUST A CHARACTER. essentially MAURZI had a spiritual awakening and "found god." but what that ACTUALLY means is that she started viewing vermillion as a sort of god? but she's keeping it on the down low (making an album about it) because she doesn't want vermillion to thing she's CRINGE. themes of loving a god, being IN love with a god, being in lust with a god, temporarily thinking youre a god? stuff along those lines. its a bit intense, VERY experimental and.. heavy? both in themes and in musical style for some portions. this is my fav album out of all of them if you couldnt tell. artists im taking inspiration from include (but are not limited to): sleep token, WILLOW, type o negative, slipknot, lemon demon (specifically songs off spirit phone), hozier, violent vira, pierce the veil, gorillaz kinda, bjork, kate bush, deftones, destroy boys, and rammstein probably.

Waterworks - so yknow how MAURZI was having a whole trouble with god moment? yeah well thats gone now, no i haven't figured out how that'll work narratively, thats for me to figure out in like 10 years from now (now being 1988, naturally.) we've returned to our self-titled roots in terms of musical style! now we've just got some fun themes of trauma and such! and then that's the and of MAURZI as a character story wise, as i said earlier the album after this one is just a Me album. same artist inspo as self titled!

and guess what! music lore isnt even fuckin done! my music in this dr is a multiverse in itself goddamn. so basically the album covers for each album tell a completely seperate story about a completely seperate alter ego/ character/ whatever named Moonzi. name given by my audience (which is my excuse for coming up with such a shitty name and then keeping it.) the story of moonzi, without going into too much detail because i dont wanna type it all out, is a sci-fi type story about a being from the moon (lunarian callback!) on a quest to bring this space artifact back to its original place, basically. a bit more on it later, emphasis on a bit. also! each album cover is drawn by a different artist, and each album artist animates one official music video off their respective album, just cuz i like art and stuff! those music videos kinda follow the moonzi storyline loosely, but incorporate MAURZI elements. is this confusing? hope not. drawings!

writing based - novels

can you believe im still not done? like not even close? certified yapper. anyway! my 3 fiction novels (Manchester, NH - 1991, Curator Rye, 1997, Sand Dollars + Pearls - 2008) are about my ocs basically! thats it really, i dont feel the need to share the plots of those tbh.

writing based - autobiographies

two? yep! one is a fictional autobiography about MAURZI (MAURZI - 1999) and one is a non fictional autobiography about me (Radio Free Marley - 2012.) take a shot every time i say MAURZI and you will need to get your stomach pumped. she just. she means a lot to me :3

film based - doctor who

(1994-1999)*

*these dates are when im on the show btw, not its total runtime, same applies to other cr existing shows.

big disclaimer: never seen doctor who. dont know the plot, dont know which doctor i'm gonna be, i just wanna be in it.

so! my version of the doctor is kinda weird. its one doctor, but played by two people, but theyre one person. we're both the doctor. and by we i mean both me and rsl, obviously. the viewer sees the doctor as two different people, but NOBODY ELSE IN THE DAMN SHOW besides our little companion buddy guy (played by my cr friend fish!) SEES, ACKNOWLEDGES, OR IS ABLE TO VIEW THE DOCTOR AS TWO PEOPLE. its really complicated and i really did not have to make it that way, but its cool to me so i really dont care. also we're breakjng the doctor who cycle of boring suit and tie (this is NOT about you 15 <3) and going steampunk-esque. again, cuz i wanna.

film based - house md

(2005 - 2010)

marley veitch be in a show without rsl challenge (failed.) i play a character i made up named Nanette Amesbury who is essentially wilson's first ex wife. does he have a canon first ex wife? think so (i actually havent finished house oops.) do i care? you can take a guess. nanette (nicknamed ninny - which im well aware means dumb) is the director of the pediatrics department at princeton plainsboro and she kinda has a fwb type deal with wilson before figuring out shes a lesbian, having a crush on cuddy, being besties with kutner, then leaving the show in season 6. (zeth if ur reading this yes i made her show up for more than 2 seconds she just. means so much to me. also i want cudbury content.) im also a writer for the show so im there for its entire run time :3 i really like this show :3

film based - moonzi

(2016)

YEAHHHHH BABY SHES BACK!!! moonzi's storyline gets adapted into an adult swim animated tv show! i do screenwriting, stiryboarding, and voice acting! style wise, think teen titans mixed with bojack horseman mixed with archer. sick space visuals also!

comedy based - dying art

(2020)

idk i wanted to do a standup special! dunno what it's about. ill leave that up to future me to decide because this isn't happening for 32 damn years and i really just dont wanna come up with a standup special rn.

film based - radio free marley

(whenever)

i wanted a biopic, but i wanted it to be both about me and MAURZI, and how points in my life influenced or inspire songwriting. so the episode structure is like

ep 1: about me, point in my life

ep 2: about MAURZI, point in her life thats sorta related but not entirely to the events in ep 1

ep 3: about me, point in my life

ep 4: about MAURZI, point in her life thats sorta related but not entirely to the events in ep 3

ep 5: you get the idea

and then this goes on for 12 episodes and ends with the MAURZI story wrapping up and with me sorta retiring kinda. dont know when it'll be made, probably at some point in my 60s or whatever. im permashifting if you couldnt tell btw.

and thats it! after all this im just kinda existing and living life and whatever else. so with that outta the way i'll list some fun facts and i'll FINALLY BE DONE JESUS CHRIST IVE BEEN WRITING THIS FOR LIKE 3 HOURS.

- i live in new york city! manhattan to be specific

- i also have a lake house in new hampshire because i Need to be in a rural area at some points

- my house's interior design is very 70s themed and its WHIMSICAL AND FUN! maximalism, whimsigoth, nooks and crannys to be in, fun and varied seating options, conversation pit, loft bedroom, whole 9 yards. ive also got a gazebo on my roof!

- i have 2 siblings in my dr (not here im an only child in my cr womp womp) named lia and monty, theyre my best friends in my cr!

- ive also got a cat! she's a ragdoll kitty named yvonne, shes a sweetheart!

- i scripted out light pollution so the sky is all pretty at night, highly recommend you do the same

- im in STOMP at one point, dont know or care when, i just wanna be in it

- robin williams........... he is a father figure to me................ sniff sob

- yes i scripted out his death i simply cannot deal with that

- PUBLIC TRANSPORT AND WALKABLE SOCIETY!!!!! NO MORE CAR BASED US SOCIEY WOOOO!!!

- i cant fucking believe i havent mentioned this yet but im scottish?? im not scottish in my cr i was just thinking about david tennant when i was forming the dr idea back in january and it stuck. MAURZI is american tho

- hilson is canon in my dr LMAOAOOA

- thats all i got

sweet lord in heaven above if you've read this whole thing im giving u a big kiss. this is so long and i really dont wanna proofread it so im not gonna, excuse any spelling or grammar mistakes.

[notiddygothgf]

9. "daybreak"

★ pairings: plug!wakasa imaushi x f!reader

★ synopsis: the one where you have the hots for your dealer, and Wakasa is always eager to please a customer. (don't let your bf stop you from finding ur hubby)

★ content warning: smut, angst, lotta porn w a lotta plot, car sex, dealer wakasa, cheating, oral sex, sneaky link, vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, sex while high, consensual drug use, mentions of abuse, unprotected sex, so much more...

★ a/n: omg. I am so sorry for disappearing for a month... finals have been cray cray.. also my grandma died rip. ive been carefully crafting this for a month and updates will flow much quicker after this!! shit gets real tho... beware. (yall know the drill, comment ur thoughts n wishes).

★ w.c.; 5.2k

previous part | next part

YOU WOKE UP TO A COLD, EMPTY BED. As the morning sun peeked lazily through the thin curtains, they cast a wam glow across the hardwood floor. Your hair was a tousled mess atop your pillow, legs still sore from the night you had shared with Wakasa – though the activities had trailed well into this morning. You opened your eyes, disoriented for a brief moment as you blinked a few times. You shifted to the right, and then realized that you were alone. 

The realization brought a pang of sadness that fluttered in your chest. You reached out to feel the empty space beside you, sweaty fingers trailing over the cool sheets – sheets that had been twisted between your fingers only a few hours earlier.

There was a sharp pain in your back as you sat up, though it didn’t compare to the overwhelming sense of loneliness that came with waking up alone. The memories of the previous night flooded your mind and filled you with a sense of longing you couldn’t deny. You recalled the way Wakasa’s eyes bore into yours, lips dripping with passionate praise as he claimed your body. Then you recalled the sound of his laughter, the hushed conversations, the gentle, intimate touches – in the quiet stillness of the morning, you were alone.

You should have known that he would leave in the morning. Thats how hook-ups usually worked. He’d had his fun with you and he vanished like thin air. Under normal circumstances, you would have thought nothing of it. Just fun. That’s all it was supposed to be.

But still, you couldn’t help but yearn for him; for the feeling of his hair between your fingers, for the feeling of his strong arms wrapped around your body. He made you melt. Was it all a lie?

Wakasa cupped your face, his touch sending a jolt of electricity through your veins. “I wish I could run away with ‘ya, doll, but we gotta be realistic,” he said, voice filled with longing. “There can’t be a happy ending for us. You know that, don’t ‘ya?”

He was right about that much. There couldn’t be a happy ending for the two of you. 

You swung your legs over the edge of the bed and let your bare feet make contact with the cool floor. The shiver you felt could have been from the sudden chill that hit your body as the sheets fell from your shoulders or the emptiness that enveloped you. You cast your gaze to the floor, feeling the heaviness in your chest again.

Just fun, you had to remind yourself. No feelings.

You slid your slippers onto your cold feet. The morning routine which once brought you a sense of comfort now felt mechanical and devoid of meaning. Going through the motions of getting out of bed, you allowed your mind to wander – and wander it did… wander right back to him.

You found yourself missing him. You couldn’t help but replay the moments of intimacy in your mind. The feeling of his lips brushing against yours, the way he let your fingers trace patterns over his tatted skin, the way he held you through the night. He was so warm – it had all felt so real and perfect. But now, with the morning light casting a harsh reality upon your heavy heart, you couldn’t help the sense of emptiness you felt at the prospect of going back to the way things had been before yesterday. 

Was that really all it was to him? You asked yourself. Were you a placeholder? A quick cum-and-go situation? 

Instead of dwelling too hard on it, you made your way to the kitchen. You felt around on the countertop for the coffee machine. Popping one of the instant coffee capsules into the top of the machine, you watched it whir to life. The familiar aroma of fresh coffee brought little solace. You stood in front of the coffee machine half asleep, heart aching with longing you knew you shouldn’t have felt. The analog clock on the stove read 12:41 PM.

Weary eyes scanning the room, you let yourself wake up little by little. Your gaze settled on the pile of blankets on the couch, which… you didn’t remember putting out there. It looked to be one big blanket draped over a pile. 

Figuring you might as well clean it up while you were still looking at it, you pushed yourself away from the counter, walking – or perhaps limping – to the couch. You had been expecting a mess beneath the blanket. What you hadn’t been expecting when you peeled back the first blanket, however, was a head of golden hair to peek out at you. 

You froze with surprise at the sight that greeted you. There, on your couch, was the White Leopard himself, the man of the evening. You hadn’t expected him to stay, so you weren’t quite sure how to process the situation. Still, your heart warmed at the sight of him, knowing he’d cared enough to stay with you – and even more to let you have the entire bed while he slept on the couch. The gesture was… well, surprisingly kind.

You couldn’t deny that you had been preparing to be left in the dust. That’s all you had ever known. Given the passionate haze of a night that lingered in your memory, however, you had found yourself wishing it would last a little longer. Seeing him asleep on your couch, you felt a mix of surprise, curiosity, and uncertainty.

Continuing to watch the man sleep, you allowed your eyes to trace the curves and contours of his feminine face. His long, golden hair peeking out from beneath a layer of deep, purple dye. The smaller strands framed his delicate features. His lips were parted just slightly, blonde lashes casting soft shadows over his cheeks. 

You were stuck by how beautiful he was in such a vulnerable state. Was this really the same criminal you had bedded last night? The alluring, passionate man who exuded such an intense air of confidence…?

You couldn’t help but feel a sense of curiosity about Wakasa as you stared down at his serene, sleeping form. Who was he beneath the surface? Who was he outside of his relationship with you, outside of his ties to the criminal world? What were his dreams, his fears, his hopes? What was his story?

It was then that you realized how little you really knew about your forbidden lover. You approached the couch slowly, drawn to him like a moth to a flame. Being careful not to wake him, you knelt beside him. The man stirred in his sleep, scrunching his nose, but he didn’t wake up. The movement made you smile softly, feeling a sense of warmth and contentment you hadn’t expected.

He was breathtaking, a symphony of beauty – the way his brows arched just so, the way his lazy, downturned eyes were just barely shut. You found yourself lost in the details, the intricacies of his face.

As you continued to watch him sleep, you felt something shift inside of you. You wanted to know more about the man in front of you. You wanted to see his ups and downs, hear more about his past with Shinichiro and Takeomi. You wanted to know about all of his dreams and aspirations, what made him tick and what made him laugh. You wanted to unravel the alluring mystery that was Imaushi Wakasa.

Your heart swelled with a newfound tenderness. You gazed softly at Wakasa, who was lost in a peaceful slumber. This was so much more than just sex to you. You wished – above anything else – that circumstances could have been different.

You picked a stray away from his face, tucking it behind his ear. Wakasa stirred, lashes fluttering as he began to wake up. You quickly pulled your hand away, heart skipping a beat.

Wakasa blinked sleepily, droopy eyes searching the room until they focused on you. A soft, lazy grin made its way onto his lips as his gaze lingered on your face. “Mornin’,” he said hoarsely.

Feeling your face warm a little bit at the sound of his morning voice, you returned the gesture. “Good morning,” You replied softly, unable to tear your eyes away from him even though you knew it would be dangerous to keep looking at him. “Well, good afternoon.”

He rolled over on the couch, tugging the blanket down so he could stretch his arms out above his head with a loud yawn. His muscles tensed, toned arms flexing above him. Your eyes wandered from his tattoos down to his chest.

Gazing at you with a mixture of admiration and curiosity, he licked his lips. “What time’s’it?” He asked, running a a hand through his hair. It looked so silky, even now after the two of you had spent the entire night rolling around.

“12:42,” You answered him, avoiding his tired gaze. “What are you doing out here?”

Wakasa shrugged. “Thought it would be best for the both of us if I slept on the couch. Figured I’d give you some space,” he explained. You understood the implications of his words, and you knew he had made the right choice. Lord knew that waking up next to him would make you fall in love. “Were you watchin’ me?”

Embarrassed, you pursed your lips.

His grin only widened, and he reached out to gently cup your cheek, turning your flustered face towards him. “You’re sweet,” he said, thumb caressing your hot skin. “You sleep well?”

You knew you shouldn’t, but you couldn’t help but lean into his touch, feeling the warmth spread from your face to the rest of your body. You knew it was foolish of you to continue indulging in his attention like this when you were walking a fine line already, but when you looked into his eyes and saw him look back at you with desire, you found yourself unable to resist him.

“We didn’t sleep until, like…” You trailed off, racking your memory while memories from last night flicked through your mind like you were rewinding a VHS tape. “Five. In the morning.”

Wakasa chuckled, sending sparks up and down your body. The two of you glanced down at his stomach when it grumbled. He laughed, “Dunno why ‘m still hungry. I ate real good last night.”

You bit your lip, letting your face burn at his words. You glanced to the kitchen, and then back at him. “You like eggs and toast?” You asked. “I haven’t gotten the chance to go grocery shopping or do much cleaning around here, sorry. I just wasn’t expecting–”

Wakasa pulled you in, locking your lips together to shut you up. The two of you parted slowly, savoring the moment, before Wakasa said, “Eggs and toast sound great.”

You licked your lips with a smile, putting some distance between the two of you for the sake of your mental health. He was dangerous, him and his lips. Wordlessly, you made your way over to the kitchen.

“How do you take your coffee?” You called, grabbing the cup of coffee that had just finished brewing and then popping another capsule into the machine.

Wakasa answered, “Two sugars, baby.”

You followed his command, popping the sugar canister open and scooping one big spoonful into the mug you had originally brewed for yourself. You let it dissolve a bit before stirring the cup in a clockwise motion.

“Here you go,” You said, setting the mug on the table. There was a clean pan on the stove already. You turned on the flame, and then reached into the cupboard above you in search of a bowl. Fetching three eggs from the fridge, you set your station for the meal you were about to make.

As you cracked the eggs into the bowl, you felt a pair of strong arms wrap around your waist from behind, and a familiar warmth pressed up against your back. Biting back a gasp, you leaned into his touch. There was something else pressing into your back too, but you were trying your best not to think too hard about it.

Something was an early bird, even if Wakasa wasn’t.

“I had a great time last night, doll,” He whispered against the back of your neck, breath tickling the shell of your ear. “You always this pretty in the mornin’?”

Fighting a smile, you tried to focus on the task at hand. You added a pinch of salt to the eggs, but your attention was stolen away by the feeling of his slender fingers slipping beneath the fabric of your tee. He gripped your stomach pudge, leaning down to plant soft kisses along the valley of your neck. 

Casual, you had to remind yourself. Keep it casual.

“What happened to keepin’ it casual?” You replied, though your voice was dripping with amusement. You took the fork into your hand, sticking it into the yellow goop and attempting to whisk it. But, alas, Waka’s proximity was making it a little difficult to keep on track.

His hands roamed over your waist – warm, secure, safe. When he peppered more kisses along your jawline, you squirmed a bit, grinning hard enough to feel it in your cheeks. You dumped the egg mixture into the now heated pan, listening to the way it sizzled.

“You ain’t exactly makin’ it easy, c’mon,” he teased, nuzzling his face into your neck, and you couldn’t help but blush at his words. “I won’t tell your man.”

You turned to face Waka, bracing your arms on the kitchen counter. He was grinning at you with that affectionate twinkle in his eyes, and you found it suddenly difficult to keep your feelings to yourself. As if he had read your mind, he leaned in, and you melted into his touch. 

Your lips met in the middle, dancing against each other lazily. He brought his hands down over your thighs as you tangled a hand in his hair to deepen the kiss. They slid up to your hips, and then gripped the meat of your ass. With a hungry groan, Wakasa lifted you onto the counter.

“You don’t get tired, do you?” You panted through a mouthful of his tongue.

Wakasa chuckled – the sound was low and sultry. “Of you?” he said. “Neva’.”

Then his lips were back on yours, hot and soft. His hands found their way back to your clothes, sliding up your bare thighs and ghosting over the hem of your panties. Suddenly, you had forgotten all about the eggs on the stove.

That is, until you smelled something burning. You pulled away from him, shoving him back while you rushed to the stove. “Shit!” You exclaimed.

You turned the heat down. Using the spatula you had laid out earlier, you scraped the burnt egg bits off the side of the pan, trying your best to salvage the meal. Eggs were expensive these days.

Wakasa laughed a little as he stepped back. You couldn’t help but laugh with him as you grabbed a dish towel to wave away the smoke. Even though you were a little disappointed that your makeout session had been interrupted, you felt yourself smile as you surveyed the damage.

“Well done is good too,” He hummed.

It took a remarkable amount of strength to keep your feelings out of the mix. You waved him off with a smile, gesturing toward the table. “Make yourself useful and go set the table.”

★

Takeomi sat back in his chair, swishing the brown liquid in his glass around with an air of mild interest about him. His hair was down today, black tufts speckled with grey like pepper, falling over his scarred face. The dining table was remarkably quiet. Though, admittedly, him bringing liquor for the two of you to share was nice. Usually he downed the whole thing himself – not like he hadn’t come home shitfaced already.

“You had fun today with Shin and Benkei?” You asked him, trying to strike up a conversation. You decided you wouldn’t acknowledge the fact that he had drunk himself stupid last night already as he took another hefty swig. You were in no place to talk. Not after the night you had spent with his coworker.

“You’ll be back soon, right?” You asked.

Wakasa stretched his arms out, straddling the seat of his motorbike. He slipped the key into the ignition. “Course I will.”

Coming up behind him, you threw your arms around his waist, pressing your head to his chest. He looked so cute like this, wearing a hoodie that was a few sizes too big for his small frame. It was your boyfriend’s hoodie, of course, but that wasn’t important.

“Stay with me,” you whispered, voice still a little husky from your… post-breakfast activities. 

“You know I would if I could, doll,” the man replied. He reached behind himself to tie his loose, golden locks into a ponytail. He picked out his two signature strands to hang around his face. Turning to face you, he pressed your foreheads together.

You felt your heart fluter in your chest. You didn’t want him to leave.

“Wanna kiss you,” he chuckled, shaking his head, although he didn’t pull away from you. “But that’ll only make it harder to leave.”

“We shouldn’t,” you agreed, peering up into his soft, lazy eyes and pleading with him to stay with you. “Someone might see us.”

The distance between the two of you – or, rather, the lack thereof – remained the same, neither of you daring to break the trance. 

He leaned down a bit more. His lips ghosted over hers, warm breath fanning over her hot skin. “Yeah. Wouldn’t want that happenin’.”

Before you could object, he pressed his lips to yours in a deep, passionate kiss. You melted against him, wrapping your arms around his neck and losing yourself in the feeling. The way your lips slotted together like they were made to fit each other had you reeling for more. When the two of you finally parted, you could see the desire in his eyes, and you knew that even if he couldn’t say it, he felt the same.

“Get home safe,” You told him.

“Will do, princess,” he promised before turning the key. His bike revved to life.

Takeomi’s tired eyes observed you as you uncapped the bottle of whiskey and poured yourself another glass. “It was alright,” he deadpanned, then he paused before adding, “Look, I’m sorry about yesterday. I should’ve taken you home myself.”

You froze, only for a moment, before returning your gaze to him. It took a great amount of effort to cool the burn that threatened to crawl its way over your face at the prospect of him knowing what happened between you and Wakasa last night. “You’re fine,” you shook your head. “I wound up going to bed early anyway.” 

“Fuck,” Wakasa breathed. “Y’look good with my dick in your mouth, baby.”

He doesn’t know, you had to remind yourself. There was no way he could have known.

“Waka get you home safe?” He asked.

You rubbed the sweat off your palms onto your pants, nervously avoiding eye contact. “Yeah. We took the highway back.”

“I would’ve sent you home with, like, literally anyone else if the guys weren’t so drunk. I can’t stand him,” Your boyfriend sighed, leaning back in his chair like he knew what you had done. “Little shit thinks hes so much better than everyone else. Him and that… Brut.”

The way his hair fell into his face as he snuggled his head into the pillow was almost hypnotic. “I could treat you better. So much better, ‘know I could. I’ve never felt that for anyone before.”

“He ain’t put his hands on ‘ya, did he?” Takeomi hummed, eyes darkening suddenly with the weight of his words.

“I won’t tell your man.”

With a weak smile and a humorless chuckle, you answered, “No, baby. He knows I have a boyfriend.”

Briefly, you wondered if he could sense his presence on you. You wondered if, even though you had bathed yourself in perfume before coming here, Takeomi could smell his scent on your body, the faint essence of his expensive cologne lingering on your clothes. While the two of you had been careful not to leave marks on one another, you felt self conscious in front of him, like Wakasa’s lips had left blistering scars and love bites all over your skin. 

Takeomi only nodded at you. He reached for the bottle of whiskey and topped off his glass, taking another sip. Then, just as it had been before, the table was quiet for a few minutes.

He doesn’t know, you had to remind yourself. As your phone buzzed against your thigh, you reminded yourself that your boyfriend didn’t know who it was, even if you had only assumed it was him. A thought crossed your mind – perhaps it would serve you well to change your passcode one of these days. 

Flipping the phone screen-side-up in your lap, you swiped on the notification. The warmth returned to your cheeks with remarkable speed.

Waka

|   Image Attached

|   Thinkin of u doll

You clicked on the photo. When it blew up on your screen, you fiddled with the brightness settings. It was a picture of two eggs done sunny side up. The yolks resembled a set of tits. You could see Wakasa’s hand in the corner of the photo, holding the plate up to the camera, tatted skin reflecting light from somewhere behind the screen. 

You

|   go fk yourself

|    mine dont sit that pretty lol

Waka

|   idk wtf ur talkin abt, yours sit real pretty.

|  but i mean s been a min so

|   might need a refresher ;)

Fighting the urge to laugh at his shenanigans, you typed up your brief response quickly before turning the phone off.

You

|   no comment lol

You muted all notifications for Wakasa for the time being, setting your phone on the table as you pushed yourself up and away from the chair. 

“I’m gonna take a quick shower. I hope that’s okay,” You said.

Too wasted to comment verbally on your request, he waved you off. You dusted the hem of your shirt, stumbling drunkenly for a moment before leaving the table without so much as another word.  

★

The steamy shower provided a brief – yet much needed – moment of solace for your conflicted spirit. The hot water felt like acid against your even hotter skin, melting your troubles away and easing the pain away from your shoulders. Yet, still, it did little to ease the guilt and confusion that seemed to overwhelm you.

You had cheated on your boyfriend. You were past that part. What shocked you now was the fact that you were catching feelings for the guy you did it with. The emotions were almost too strong to bear. You felt like a monster – it all felt so wrong. 

But, shit, not to be cliche… but if that were the case then you weren’t too sure you wanted to be right. 

The man thrilled you, filled you with desires you had never felt before. In a mere month alone, he had managed to completely sweep you off of your feet. He had taken what was once a plain, boring reality and painted his name all over it.

Having already had washed your hair earlier today, you focused on working up a lather over your skin with Takeomi’s body wash – anything to help cleanse the filth from your soul.

Your mind was racing with thoughts and emotions, wondering how you had let things get to this point. 

If I could go back in time, would I do it again? You furrowed your brows. Letting your hands glide over your body on their own, you mindlessly scrubbed away at your skin. You knew you had betrayed your boyfriend by that point, having cheated on him with – of all of his coworkers – the man he appeared to despise the most. He would undoubtedly try to kill one of you if word got out that you were seeing each other behind his back. All things considered, Takeomi was a decent man, least that’s what you told yourself. You’d be doing a disservice to yourself to leave him and all of this stability behind for the pursuit of temporary happiness.

And then what? Would Wakasa eventually grow tired of you and leave you for another? You didn’t want to be blacklisted from Tokyo’s criminal world, as crazy as that may have sounded. 

Then again, it would be even more of a disservice to yourself to give what you had with Wakasa up so soon. His lips dripped with venom; His half-lidded eyes contained promises of a future you weren’t sure was even possible. 

In those eyes, you saw a reflection of your own desires – the future you desperately wanted the two of you to share. You saw a man who was both powerful and vulnerable; a man who had earned the title of one of Japan’s most feared men, a man who had swept the hair out of your face and wiped your tears away. In those eyes, you could see the weight of the responsibility he carried, knowing you only added to that burden. He led like it was second nature to him, having been well-known around these parts for the many generous sacrifices he’d made to those in his circle – your boyfriend being one of them. 

You wondered if he had ever truly allowed himself to be happy. 

But, shit, you’d be lying if you said you didn’t see the way his whole face lit up when you entered the room. It couldn’t have been a lie, not all of it, at least.

Most of all, behind those eyes, you saw a kindred spirit, someone who seemed to understand you in a way that no one else ever has before. You could see this unspoken connection that defied both logic and reason – a shared emotion that was both forbidden and undeniable.

As you stood there in the shower, you realized that you would have to face the consequences of your actions at some point. You couldn’t run from it forever – what you had done was undeniably wrong in a moral sense; no amount of reassurance from Waka or yourself would change that fact. Some day, Takeomi would find out about the two of you, and you weren’t sure if you were ready for things to come to an end so soon. 

You sighed. “I don’t want him goin’ after us.”

Wakasa’s hand found its way over to yours. “I’ll keep ‘ya safe. Promise,” he said.

You didn’t care if it was an illusion. He looked so ethereal beneath you, hair splayed out on the pillow around his face like a halo. He was so vulnerable, so perfect. Wakasa’s eyes were filled with a mixture of longing and determination. “And if ‘ya change ‘yer mind about being with him,” he said huskily, his hand reaching up to caress your cheek one more time. “I’m a call away.”

You felt your resolve crumble as you crashed your lips down on his, mouths melding together for what must have been the hundredth time that night. You moaned softly, moving your hands from his waist to the pillow beneath his head as you felt him brace his hands on your hips.

I’m not ready yet, you decided. You didn’t care if it was wrong. You didn’t care if there would be dire and extreme consequences if and when word about the two of you got out. You wanted to stay in this illusion with him a little while longer.

Warm, salty tears mixed with the water running down your face and over your quivering lips as you tried to wrap your head around it all. The thought of being hurt by Takeomi again made you feel sick to your stomach – You had seen the damage he was capable of doing to his opponents, you didn’t even want to know what he would do to you if he found out about Wakasa. Still, you had betrayed him. You knew repercussions would come eventually.

As you stepped out of the shower and dried yourself off with a towel, you swallowed your guilt. You had a clean set of clothes folded neatly atop the sink. The shirt slipped loosely over your head, though the pants took some effort to squeeze into. You gazed at your tired face in the mirror. You looked about as lost as you felt. Deciding eventually that worrying about it now wouldn’t change the eventual outcome, you sighed, reaching for the door.

“Might as well ride the train until it crashes,” you murmurred beneath your breath.

Who knows? That confrontation might be years away.

Looping around the hallway, you approached the staircase. There was that faint, distinct aroma of booze that lingered in the air – that and the familiar stench of Takeomi’s cigars. A smile adorned your lips at the thought of being able to share a smoke with him. You rarely got the chance to smoke a Cuban these days. Slowly, you made your descent down the stairs.

You could hear the TV playing something – Takeomi had moved to the living room. You guessed he was done drinking for the night. Lord knew you were too drunk to continue on yourself.

Anticipation bubbled within you as you approached the living room. Takeomi was seated on the loveseat with a cigar pinched between his thumb and index finger. His hair was a bit greasy from his day out, just faintly illuminated by the yellow light cast onto his face from the lamp in the corner. 

As your gaze met his, your anticipation was met with an unexpected sight. Takeomi’s brows were furrowed, lips pressed into a thin line. The tension that radiated from his rigid posture seemed to cast a shadow over the room. There was a storm brewing behind his eyes.

Your heart skipped a beat, then two, your smile dropping from your face. Concern etched itself across your expression. The soft pitter-patter of your bare, damp feet on the hardwood floor seemed to echo louder in the charged atmosphere.

“Is something the matter?” You asked, doing your best to keep your tone gentle despite the hint of unease that lingered behind your words.

“Yeah,” he answered. The end of his cigar crackled as he took a long, hefty hit.

Confusion washed over you. A flicker of worry cast a cloud over your sunny disposition. You approached him slowly, steps tentative. “What’s up?” You asked him.

Takeomi’s gaze met yours, anger flashing behind his dark eyes. His voice, once a drunken, slurred murmur, now carried the weight of his emotion. Wordlessly, reached into his lap and produced your phone, holding it out toward you.

It took a moment for your eyes to adjust to the screen, widening when they did. The warmth in the room dissipated, replaced by a chilling silence that hung heavily in the air.

“You’re fucking my coworker?” He spoke, voice tinged with a mixture of hurt and anger.

And in a moment’s width, your world had flipped upside down.

a/n: dun dun dunnnnnn!! -- ok im sorry for the cliffhanger, shit is about to get juicy, trust. I just wanna take a moment to thank each and every one of you reading rn for all of ur unwavering support. the amount of love this fic has gotten during the past month ive been on hiatus has kept me going thru difficult times, I dont think yall will ever understand the impact you've had on me. ur comments make my day!! (please leave more I love u all mwah mwah mwah). as for next chapter, strap in. remember the angst and craziness I warned yall abt last month? yeah. get ready. lmk what u think as always and feel free to comment or reblog with any thoughts, suggestions or just to say hello, mawmah loves u all&lt;3

I obviously do not own tokyo revengers or anything related to it. please do not reproduce, copy, or translate my works anywhere. dont fk w me im a bruja.

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Somewhere Between Hello and Goodbye | Ch. 4: Strangers With Memories

a/n: more angst but at least they aren't as awkward, however, after this chapter, I fear it's only going to go downhill for my babies :(

The dreadful No Contact Rule. Difficult not to break when the relationship is over and even more so when the relationship comes to a sudden halt but the feelings are still brewing inside. When the distance is forced and fueled by the guilt of losing that person again. However, I would be lying if I said that Jungkook is no longer part of my life. That I have somehow completely barricaded myself from his presence. How could I, when not even a conscious stream of thought can overcome the yearning of a broken heart? One that still longs for his touch, his sweet smile, his laugh. One that has been holding on to the memories of our past despite the lack of recollection in Koo’s eyes. To him, we are simply picking things up from where they were left off. Not a complicated task in nature until you realise that our story left off with his first and last “I love you, Mira”. So, no matter how hard I try to push him away, the heartstrings of my own soul seem to pull us back together. Even if he sees me as just a friend, I am willing to fight for everything we could have been, until one day he finally remembers it all. Remembers me, remembers us.

Unfortunately, with school starting, everyone has been getting back into their routines, leaving little time or opportunity to actually hang out. Despite this, Jungkook has made a special effort to “build back what he can’t remember”. So, seeing him has actually become part of my daily ritual. Whether that be going on a morning jog or grabbing a quick coffee after class. Like the good old days, we are connecting as close friends, since everything began that way. Before anything, Koo was my friend, one who somehow filled the void of my family when we were separated by an ocean. For that, I will forever be grateful to him. 

Today was like any other. Tae and I met our new cohort leader, the head of the ER department in the local children’s hospital, who was this older gentleman who wasted no opportunity to crack one of his dad jokes. He absolutely adored Tae, said that he saw his younger self in him, and unless he was a sleep-deprived, broke college student, I’m not sure what the correlation was. To be honest, Tae hasn’t been having it easy either. His grandma was recently diagnosed with pneumonia, so he spent the entire summer working three jobs to send as much money as he could back home. Being the only man, and thus, the breadwinner in the family after the passing of his father, he constantly tells me about the guilt he endures being far away from his mom, younger sister and grandma. The three women in his life he would give up anything for. And, as I’ve watched him slowly run himself thin, I have grown to be protective of Tae myself. Although he is older, in my eyes he will always be like a little brother to me. One whose shoulders carry the weight of a whole lineage.

Packing up our staff after class, Tae recommended we try the new pastry shop that opened by our dormitory. One that he first mentioned when Jungkook was admitted into the hospital in hopes of cheering my numb self. However, during that period the aching pain in my heart wanted nothing more than to be by Koo’s side. So, seeing that this time Tae was the one in need of support, I made sure to take him up on the offer as we indulged in our daily debrief. At the end of the day, we might not know how to properly give an IV but you best believe that we know how to run our mouths. In the span of half an hour, we managed to cover every possible topic known to men, ranging from the rise in the cost of eggs to the hideous new haircut the grumpy librarian decided to debut today. Our conversation could have gone on for hours until it was abruptly interrupted by the buzzing of my phone. 

Koo: Will 20 minutes be enough for you to get ready?

Mira: Depends … where are you taking me? 

Koo: It’s a surprise, just wear something comfy ;)

“Who got you smiling like that?” Tae chuckles teasingly, seeing that his words have lost my attention.  

“Oh nothing, I’m sorry, it’s just Jungkook,” I say, nibbling on my lips to suppress the urge to keep smiling. 

“What did he say?” he leans forward taking a sip of his Americano. 

“I think he wants to go somewhere?” my words drag on as he searches my scattering eyes. 

“Now?” 

“Well, no you’re right, I’m just gonna tell him that I’m busy,” I try to comfort Tae with a smile, sensing the guilt of leaving him alone.

“No, I mean, don’t you want to freshen up? How much time do you have?” he mumbles, gaze softening at my flustered state. 

“Oh, are you sure? I hate to pause our little hangout,” 

“There’s always tomorrow,” Tae assures with a boxy smile. 

“Okay, I’ll see you at breakfast, alright?” I say, packing up my stuff before we wave each other goodbye.

Thank God, the pastry shop was a short walk away from the dormitory as I suddenly realised how valid Tae’s suggestion of a shower was. Let’s just say that today’s clinical was one for the books. Not only did I spill a whole IV bag on my scrubs but I’m pretty sure that there are still some pieces of dried cream in my hair as one of the older patients refused to cooperate. So, as I finally managed to open the front door, I headed straight into the shower, washing myself free of the chaotic aftermath. 

Debating between a woven sweater and a cashmere pullover I settled on the one Koo loved the most. “Peaches, you’re so soft,” he used to say, pulling me into a tight hug as his hands caressed the delicate cashmere. I wore it on our last date before the incident, the one we spent on Oceana Beach talking about the future, our future. Miraculously, after all this time, it still had his scent, the sweet vanilla musk lingered like the memories of our past. I remember crying sleepless nights, holding the cashmere close to my heart as if it were the only thing left of Jungkook. With my eyes closed, I could almost feel his warm embrace. 

Beep Beep 

My reminiscing, however, was interrupted by Jungkook’s arrival. Quickly touching up my makeup, I grab my purse and phone before locking the door behind me. Maybe it’s from the actual physical rush or the fact that I get to see him again, but my heart sure is beating hard. I could practically feel it in my throat. And, the appearance of his bunny smile as our eyes finally met certainly did not help it either. 

“Sorry to make you wait,” I say out of breath, tucking some stray pieces of hair behind my ear. 

“No worries, I just came,” Koo assures softly, leaning back on his car. 

“So, where is this mystery destination?” I grin teasingly, folding my arms in front of my chest. 

“Surprise, remember? Ladies first,” he grins back, opening the passenger door, before helping me buckle up. And, just like that, my heartbeat went through the roof again. 

Driving down the bridge, we were in awe of the beautiful sunset that covered the sky in warm tones. Blasting our favourite song, Jungkook rolled down all the windows before pausing his phone just in time for the high note. And, as silence filled the car I could feel the flush rise up my cheeks from the sheer embarrassment that was my singing. It wasn’t just a voice crack, it was the complete demolishment of my dignity. 

“Yah, how could you betray me like that?” I scoff in disbelief, rolling the windows back up to shield myself from the passing cars. 

“I couldn’t help it, you looked so concentrated,” Jungkook chuckles, mimicking my singing face. 

“Okay, relax, eyes on the road bunny boy,” I smirk, turning the music back on.

“We’re here,” he says, turning into the parking lot. Looking around, chills run down my spine as I realise where we are. The Oceana Beach. This means that while I was fully immersed in our karaoke session, Jungkook unknowingly drove past the exact spot where he lost consciousness on that cold, winter night. All this time, I’ve been trying to avoid this place in hopes of erasing the image of Koo’s frail body lying on the side of the road. Now, I have to act like none of that happened, since he doesn’t remember any of it. 

“Hey, are you okay?” Jungkook’s voice pulls me out of the spiral, as my chest heaves up. Feeling his hand on mine, my body almost jolts from his touch, unable to hide the fear rushing through my veins. It all felt so surreal, to be looking at him alive in flesh but knowing that the Jungkook I once knew was no longer there. 

“Yeah, I … I just remembered something,” I lie with a nervous chuckle, unbuckling myself. Helping me out of the car, Jungkook looks concerned, eyes searching mine. 

“You sure, you’re alright? I can drive back jus…” 

“No, no don’t be ridiculous. I swear I’m all good,” I interrupt his sentence with a reassuring smile. Reaching for my hands again, only this time with slight hesitation, his worried eyes meet mine as his thumb caresses the back of my palms. 

“Mira, you’d tell me if something was wrong, right?” his words are layered with a tone of fear, uneasiness, and genuine worry. But, there’s a short period of silence, as my mind filters through possible replies. 

“Of course,” I manage a small chuckle, swallowing down the lie. With a nod of acceptance and a soft sigh, he intertwined his fingers with mine, taking the bags from his trunk before walking us toward a small spot by a campfire. Setting everything up, I was commanded to just relax, covered under a woven blanket.

“I used to love making smores when I was little,” Jungkook smiles, handing me a bag of marshmallows, before covering himself under the same blanket. Jimin was right, he could still remember the earlier years of his life, but nothing of the recent events. 

“Can’t relate, I somehow always burned mine,” I frown as he can’t help but laugh, scrunching his nose and letting that bunny smile come on full display.   

“Hey, don’t laugh,” 

“I’m sorry, but how does one mess this up?” he leans closer, nudging my shoulder before looking back at the sparks. If only time could stop and we could stay this way forever. If only he could feel the way my heart ached at that moment. 

“So, Mira, do you have a boyfriend?” his sudden question brought me back again, as my eyebrows visibly furrowed from the bluntness of his curiosity. 

“Why? Are you trying to pitch an offer?” I chuckle, leaning closer to the fire to warm my hands, before looking back at his teasing grin. 

“Just trying to figure you out,” he replies softly, eyes searching mine. 

“I used to,” 

“Oh, yeah? What happened? 

“He moved away. Long distance didn’t work out,” I reply slowly, allowing the fake story to play out without succumbing to the tears. 

“That sucks, you guys don’t keep in touch at all?” Jungkook’s curiosity is innocent in nature but naive to our past. I can’t even get mad at him for digging deeper, even if it hurts.  

“I’m not sure he remembers me anymore,” I sigh, replying almost defeated. 

“That’s a lie. Who could forget you?” he laughs, shaking his head in disbelief, blind to the irony of it all. 

“Yeah …” a little chuckle escapes me as well, as my eyes dissociate into the distance. “I'm pretty unforgettable, aren't I?” 

“Pretty and unforgettable,” Jungkook replies with a quick wink, covering my shivering body with his share of the blanket before taking a bite of my half-burned marshmallow.

--

Replaying our last conversation in my head, I felt bad for snapping at Jiah at the mall. It was totally uncalled for and simply a projection of the thoughts that haunted my mind. Not a fibre of my being meant it as we rarely ever fought or even came to a slight disagreement with each other. To be quite frank, during that time it seemed like every interaction I had was like walking on a minefield. With one wrong move, I was destined to blow up and take everyone else down with me.  

Not being able to talk to her freely pained me, as I grew to miss my best friend with each passing day. And if one thing was for sure, then it was that Jiah deserved an apology as she fell victim to my self-destruction. So, after a few hours of crafting a well-developed apology, I made my way to her apartment, which was literally a level below mine. Nonetheless, the walk there seemed never-ending, most likely due to the sheer panic I was experiencing. It wasn’t fueled by the fear of her reaction but the shame I felt from how I treated Jiah. However, none of it mattered anymore, as I stood in front of her door, hand ready to place a few knocks. That is until it suddenly swings open and our eyes finally meet again. 

“Jiah,” I mumble before she pulls me into a tight hug as tears stream down both of our faces. No words needed to be said. Everything was understood through the emotions we were experiencing. Melting deeper into her embrace, my face dug deeper into her hair as the sweet smell of coconut filled my senses, reminding my body of her aura. I missed her so much that I could physically feel the void in my heartache as my teary eyes searched her sad gaze. 

“Jiah, I’m so sorry,” I manage to let out as she gently wipes the tears off of my face. Holding onto her hand, I keep it close to my chest as my heart beats faster. 

“It’s okay, love. I’ve missed you so much,” she says softly, tucking a few pieces of stray hair behind my ear. And, just like that, we were back in each other’s embrace, making up for the lost time we were apart. Catching up, we spent the whole afternoon discussing everything that happened since our falling out. She showed me the emerald jewellery set Jimin gifted her for their 1 year anniversary and the pictures they took following their celebration. They looked so happy that I couldn’t stop smiling. If they ever break up then I’ll know that love isn’t real, because in my eyes they were destined for each other. No one understands Jiah better than Jimin and no one cares so deeply for Jimin more than Jiah. Simply put, they’re soul mates. 

Feeling lightheaded from all the tears we’ve cried, I suggested we go out to grab some late lunch, or early dinner before going on a walk around campus. Jiah was quick to agree as she changed into some jeans and a hoodie before grabbing her purse and keys. Stopping by my dorm, I quickly touched up my makeup in hopes of not scaring innocent civilians from the aftermath of my mental breakdown. And, as we rode the elevator down to the main lobby, Jiah and I were inseparable once again. That is until my eyes widened at the sight of Jungkook standing by his car, shuffling in place to keep himself warm.  

“Oh? Jungkook? What’s wrong?” I stutter, worried eyes searching his. 

“Sorry Jiah, but could I steal her from you?” he asks softly, as Jiah's face turns to mine. Hiding the way her chin was trembling, she didn't know how to reply before taking a deep breath. 

“Call me when you get back?” she nods, separating her hand from mine as I pull her into a hug.  

“I’ll bring you some pastry from the new shop Tae recommended,” I say with a reassuring smile before waving her goodbye. Making sure she got in safely, my eyes turned back to look at Jungkook’s bunny smile. 

“How did you know I was here?” I ask with a skeptical tone, slowly making my way towards the car. 

“You really don’t think I pay attention, huh?” he says teasingly before opening the passenger door. 

“You mean to tell me that you’ve memorized my schedule?” I scoff, looking up at his softened gaze. 

“Pretty much,” he replies with a grin, leaning onto the door frame before caressing my cheek with the back of his palm. 

“Hey, were you crying?” Jungkook asks, concerned, as I cover my red cheeks with my hair. Way to not be obvious, Mira! I guess, my attempt to hide the fact that I’ve been sobbing for hours failed miserably since he managed to notice it after one glance. 

“Oh, yeah, it’s nothing. I promise,” I shake my head with a soft smile before looking back up at his worried eyes. 

“Mira, you know you can always talk to me, right?” his words are followed by a deep sigh as he crouched down before my still form. 

“Of course, I know that, Koo,” I manage to let out a giggle, patting his head in hopes of making him feel at least somewhat at ease. In all honesty, however, I knew that he wasn’t fully convinced, but I also didn’t necessarily hate that. Because a small part of me hoped that maybe, his curiosity would somehow help him regain the memories he once lost.

“Anyways, where are you taking me this time?” I try to change the subject, as his eyes look back at mine. 

“I need your help,” he replies, buckling my seat belt before heading to the driver’s side. 

“May I know with what?” 

“A song. A love song,” his voice is abrupt, but still layered with tease. 

“I beg your pardon, a love song? Jungkook If you think I’m going to sedate you with some vocals then you are greatly mistaken,” I scoff with my arms folded in front of my burning chest. A love song? As if seeing him again isn’t hard enough. Now, he is giving me yet another reason to cry at night. 

“Shhhh, I’ll explain everything when we get there, just sit back and relax,” he assures me with a sly wink. 

“Mmhhm,” I nod, loosening up the seatbelt before crossing my arms over my chest. Navigating through all the turns, my mind is trying to piece together our destination, until we finally stop at a brick building near the campus gymnasium. 

“Koo, where are we?” I ask cautiously, scanning the premises as he opens the passenger door. 

“It’s a studio my buddy owns. Don’t worry the inside looks more welcoming than the outside,” Jungkook grins, locking the car as we make our way up the stairs.

“Be careful here, they’re still under construction,” he points to a hole in the wooden floor, grabbing my hand as I tip-toe behind him.

“Right, and this buddy of yours, you know how?” 

“He used to produce for the band the guys and I were in. The Bulletproof Boys,” he replies proudly until I burst into a cackle, which promptly faded the smile on his face. I couldn’t help it, I was still not over the first time he mentioned the infamous band name. The Bulletproof Boys. Peak comedy if you ask me. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I’m not laughing at you, I’m laughing with you,” I try to regain my composure looking at his pouty lips. 

“I’m not laughing,”

“Okay, then I’m laughing at you,” I tease again, poking his side as he opens the door to what seemed like a small recording studio.  

“Hey, guys! Come on in,” a man’s voice welcomes us into the dimly lit room. 

“Hi hyung, thank you again,” Jungkook shakes his hand, before looking back at my flustered face. I’m usually not as awkward but something about being in a room with a stranger, Jungkook, and a hypothetical love song just did not sit well with me. 

“This is Mira, she’s going to be our female lead,” Jungkook smiles, giving me a sly wink. A lead? I really do hope he is kidding. Is today April Fool's or something? Where are the cameras? 

“Sounds good to me, who wants to go first?” the man asks the both of us, as I try my best to avoid his eye contact. Fiddling with my thumbs, Jungkook could sense that I was becoming more and more uncomfortable. So, he suggested that we go in together since it is my first time doing something like this after all. 

“Just follow me okay?” he says softly, helping me put on the headphones before handing me the lyric sheet.

“Alright, let’s just see how the melody plays out, okay? Jungkook, if you want to jump in with your vocals now, by all means. But, Mira, you can just use this take as practice. I want you to get comfortable with the lyrics,” the producer explains, giving me a thumbs up as I nod okay. 

Following Koo’s lead I tried to mumble the words under my breath, getting the feel of the song. And, to my and probably everyone’s surprise, everything was going somewhat okay? We were able to finish recording the intro in under an hour and have just gotten to the pre-chorus. After some practice, I was beginning to feel capable of managing this project, until my ears were pierced with a sudden “I love you,” projecting from Jungkook’s microphone. 

“Oh?” I let out a loud gasp, covering my mouth as my eyes shot up at his form across the booth. Searching my flushed face, he grins, pointing to the lyric sheet on my stand. Furrowing my eyebrows I begin scanning the lines with my finger, realising that he was singing one of the adlibs. However, what came after almost made me sick. Suddenly, it all felt a bit too real. Shutting my eyes, I tried to regain my composure, and within a second, I was back in that hospital room, sitting across from Koo’s frail body as his thumb caressed my palms. 

“I love you, Mira. I’ve been loving you this whole time,” his sweet words played in my head, as tears rolled down my face. Feeling the knot in my throat, I was practically screaming, but nothing came out. I couldn't do it, not then and not now. I couldn’t say the words he desperately deserved to hear. And just like that, I was back in the booth, only this time, my heaving body was plopped on the floor surrounded by both Jungkook and his producer. But, before they could ask me anything, I rushed out of the room, virtually sprinting towards the nearest washroom, where I hoped to lock myself from the outside world. Closing my eyes, all I could see were the replays of that scene before they were suddenly interrupted by the knocking on the stall door.

“Mira! Mira, open up, it’s me,” Jungkook’s voice is heavy, almost breathless. 

“Are you in the women’s washroom?” I yelp in disbelief, wiping the tears off of my face. 

“There’s no one here, come out, please,” he pleads softly, moving back as I slowly open the door. Lowering my gaze, I fold my arms over my chest before leaning back on the stall as if I didn’t just pass out in front of him. Taking a deep breath, I tried to explain myself before feeling his arms wrap around my shoulders as our bodies melted into a tight hug. Oh, Koo, if only you knew how much I missed your warm embrace. 

“Mira, please tell me what’s wrong,” Jungkook whispers, burying his face in the curve of my neck, as I feel his breath on my skin. 

“Koo, I told you, I’m fine,” I managed to lie, placing my hands on his shoulders to create at least some distance. 

“Fine? You dropped to the floor and were unresponsive,” he shouts, furrowing his eyebrows from frustration as his hands grab mine. 

“I … I think my period is coming soon. The days before are always killer,” I explain, trying to convince the both of us, before feeling his worried gaze search my scattering eyes. 

“Your period?” he confirms. 

“Mmhm,” I give him a few nods, feeling his grip on my hands slowly loosen. Tucking the stray hair behind my ear, Jungkook leans closer, tracing the trail of dried tears on my face before letting out a soft sigh. 

“Okay, I believe you. I’ll always believe you, Mira,”

Please, don't.

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[cybrwrld]

「  ₊  ☆  ﾟ jenna   ortega,   she/her,   cis   woman  」  INCOMING   TEXT:   omg   hv   u   met   CANDELARIA   “CANDY”   DELGADO  of   the   RODANI   PROWLERS   yet   ?   they’  re   one   of   the   crew’  s   street   racers   n   actually   go   by   GENESIS.   the   twenty-  two   y/  o   is   typically   seen   hanging   arnd   king   coin   arcade.  allegedly   they’  re   frm   beverly   hills  n   hv   been   w/   the   crew   for   FOUR   YEARS.   wtvr.   just   watch   out   for   them,   k   ?   ttyl   ! 

─ ʚ𖦹ɞ 𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙩𝙨 .ᐟ

full name: candelaria genesis delgado

nicknames: goes by candy full time, delly, ria, and gen by her family

date + place of birth: december 31 in beverly hills, los angeles

age: twenty2

pronouns + gender: cisgender woman

sexuality: lesbian

occupation: unemployed friend on a tuesday + rodani prowlers street racer

current residence: penthouse apartment in downtown miami

traits: adaptable, hedonistic, affectionate, avoidant, playful, resourceful, scatterbrained, lazy, observational, feeble, cowardly, blunt, unserious :/, careless, tempestuous, volatile, impulsive, juvenile

style: belly rings, whale tails, low rise + baggy jeans, tiny tops, jean skirts, chunky shoes, bright colors & fun hairstyles

media parallels: vanellope von schweetz (wreck it ralph), misa amane (death note), iono (pokémon), reo mikage (blue lock), meguru bachira (blue lock), ty lee (atla), mettaton (undertale), tatum riley (scream)

─ ʚ𖦹ɞ 𝙦𝙪𝙞𝙘𝙠 𝙛𝙖𝙘𝙩𝙨 .ᐟ

watch this space .....

tl;dr: babygirl with autism & hollywood nepo baby wants & yearns all her life for ... nothing ! except the attention her parents never give her ( and also anything she can't have ). finds her cousin on ancestry.com ( shoutout alma ) & moves to miami age 18 with her parents' blessing — spends all her money at the arcade & becomes a street racer ( also bc of alma. shoutout alma ) ! loves 2 have fun & hates being bored, with no rhyme or reason for what constitutes which; so far a thrilling race is the only thing that never gets old. now has 1k subscribers on youtube, because apparently people want to see her get the high score at every game in the arcade. tune in for further terrible decisions & cute outfits !

─ ʚ𖦹ɞ 𝙡𝙞𝙣𝙠𝙨 + 𝙝𝙘𝙨 .ᐟ

i. pinterest ii. spotify iii. interview iv. spend a day with g3n3s1s ! v. musings, aesthetics, inspirations, & lookbook.

candy is a 2007 era youtuber — she posts mainly videos of her playing games at the arcade or stupid silly challenges. rip candy, you would’ve loved twitch !

candy comes from money — the delgados are an entertainment family, with candy’s father being a well-known producer and her mom a famous actress. she doesn’t care much for either of them, and the feeling is mutual. 

she wears glasses, thick frames that she likes to keep on because contacts are a sensory nightmare for her. 

she gets an allowance from her parents that she uses to help fund the prowlers’ endeavors as well as at the arcade + her own car.

candy's racing car is a baby blue supra mk4, & her every day car is a powder blue miata mx5, both with silver sparkle + bubble decals. the miata was last seen in downtown miami wearing faux mink eyelashes. she has a garage full of other fun cars, and she rotates them every so often to make sure they all get love & don't end up lonely <3.

candy has two dogs, both black chihuahuas (one long hair, princess, & one short hair, baby).

in about six months, the first iphone will come out, & candy's life will change forever. until then, she's rocking a blue sidekick with her tamagotchi clipped on.

─ ʚ𖦹ɞ 𝙬𝙖𝙣𝙩𝙚𝙙 𝙘𝙤𝙣𝙣𝙚𝙘𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙨 .ᐟ

arcade rival: who is making candy work for those high scores??? would be funny if they only knew each other by their "score" names (g3n3s1s x whatever ur muse's is) & they meet each other through the racing scene bc of those names. think it'd be funny :P

passenger princess <3 (or at least the one she picks most regularly)

himbo + lesbian combo ! steverobin core

Rich People Friends (derogatory) perhaps ... or Rich People Friends (positive) ! could also count as childhood friends <3

people who know candy from the arcade anyway ! she is always fucking there & kind of a nuisance but also will always talk to + try to make friends with everyone.

mentors in the racing scene, elder racers or mechanics she takes inspiration from for her own projects.

besties please .... would love friends for her she is so full of love

she is also full of malice ... and also annoying ! rivals, enemies (whether it's one sided or mutual), those who she annoyed into liking her ... gimme it all !

platonic soulmate ... someone she feels completely in sync with, frequent hangouts & sleepovers & shared secrets etc etc

quick ones oooh: confidant, party friends (babygirl loooooves the club), smoking friends (rip candy you would've loved cotton candy vapes & weed pen), frenemies, acquaintances from random places, maybe even a crush (requited or otherwise ... ooooo. please know she's pathetic), exes (she's awful, was prob her fault), fwbs (she's still awful), anything our brains come up with

[carb0n-m0n0xid3]

AAAAA

IM SUBMITTING MY POEMS FOR WRITING CONTEST IT SO SCARY

ughh i hate this i hope i do good

ive posted them here before but here they are again, i revised some i think

Enjoy :3

Winter sighs

Through the creaking bridge,

under where waters rush,

the rocks lie submerged

with crawling algae lush.

The soft snow décor

dresses the aging trees.

Falling to the floor,

from the sky they dance and flee.

A disturbance in serenity

calls a lonely cry,

echoing throughout the woods

and into the starry sky.

The moon looks down in pity

to watch the sunken eyes

of the vagabond canine,

barely grasping to its life.

Through the freezing night,

the sorrow dies down.

The animal of the forest

becomes part of it now.

Infatuation

We were never made to be alone,

as proven by our suffering

when cast aside by those

in whom we tend to lean close to.

But beyond the love of friends

and family comes another,

one that bonds two closer

to where they act as one.

The heart is a fragile organ,

but eventually there comes a time

where it is most seeking.

The new need of attention

claws at their young minds

as they begin to explore a new world.

A world not known by outsiders,

but more by those who dwell within.

The world of awareness,

love and affection.

This affectionate infection

has drawn my eyes to you

in hopes that you would notice

my yearning glance.

Yet, distanced our bodies stand,

across the plane of passion.

Mine longs your soothing embrace,

so our hearts be face-to-face,

beating rhythmically in tune

as a soft song for both me and you.

But all is just a persistent dream

I wonder with impatience.

Though, high hopes still remain

so sometime in the future,

maybe our souls may dance together.

Always and Forever

I glanced about the dark void,

seeing nothing, yet hearing something.

It was similar to a muffled panic,

echoing softly around me, following as I trailed,

taunting and teasing me as it grew loud.

Its annoyance increased as I covered my ears tightly,

wishing for these screams of terror

to just simply go away.

But they would not stop persisting,

swarming round and around me,

growing from whispers to wails in mere moments.

The horrific noises swirled around my head,

bringing to me unimaginable dread.

Yet amid screeching panic, it stopped,

the atmosphere growing calm and light.

“Child” called a booming, soothing voice.

I looked up whilst uncovering my ears,

and behold, a massive glowing figure appears.

Gently, He reaches down to me

with a loving, caring hand.

“Why do this to yourself?” He said,

the obvious concern echoing beyond me.

As He drew me closer,

I could make out worried features

etched across his warm, radiant face.

“What are you talking about?”

I answered back sheepishly,

watching the affectionate being.

“You know you cannot lie to me, dear Child.

You may think it is time, but listen,

You have much more left ahead of you.”

He had responded with a voice of pity,

knowing of my true intentions.

Thus, he had begun to retreat me

to the growing void beneath,

carefully placing me back down

towards the pitch-black ground.

“Now return to those who love you,

those who care for you so dearly.”

The figure’s light had begun to dim,

fading away completely just as

His words, echoing throughout:

“I am with you, Always and Forever…”

“Wait!” I say, feeling my face

wet with tears as I wake.

Huddled all around me

were my closest friends and family,

turning from melancholy

to a rather joyous state.

“Thank God, you’re alive!” few had said,

hugging each other beside my hospital bed.

They had longed to embrace me as well,

though refrained with compassion

at the sight of my fragile condition.

My heart twisted with throbbing guilt,

watching as my closest friend

approached with a sad smile.

She was the first to come near,

holding me tight with eagerness.

Her words shook when whispered out,

filled with remorse and tenderness:

“I know what you did,

what you have done to yourself.”

I tightened my weak grip around her,

painfully sobbing into her arms,

seeing my own weak and wrapped in gauze.

“I’m so sorry” I choked out,

realizing that my actions were quite foul.

How could I be so selfish?

How could I be so stupid?

“Do not apologize” she mumbled back,

tears freely flowing down,

landing on the soft blue medical gown.

“We’re all here for you, no matter what.

Always and Forever.”

SORRY FOR THE LONG POST, THANKS YALL ❤❤❤

[babybluewiki]

reflections; maki x reader

:i'm god

:master list

The wind blowing from an air vent and onto her face was what woke her up.

Maki's eyes sprung open, a gasp leaving her lips as she found herself in what she figured was a hospital bed. There was no IV drip next to her, so she wasn't dying, and a small sigh of relief made its way up her throat until she pushed it down with a firm swallow.

On the other side of the room that she found herself in, a door was cracked open, leaving room for her to eavesdrop on the small conversation going on beyond the door. Her arm urged to get up, so her muscles pulled her up out of her bed until she nearly toppled over, catching herself with her palms flat on the cold floor. That's when she noticed them.

The scars on her arms that led all the way up to her sleeves—she could tell they didn't stop there. She couldn't feel them but she knew they were all over her face. Whoever took care of her (Shoko, she blindly guesses) must've known the damage it would do if Maki saw her own reflection, as the mirror was covered up on the wall adjacent to her. 

Her heart sank. Even feeling her fingers run over the bumps and scars on her arms reminded of how she got them. And then her insides boiled with anger for who was responsible. She should be mad at that volcano shaped cursed spirit, and she is. Her own fists clenched at the thought of it. But she could've been saved, despite how weak that makes her look. You could've saved her, if you'd just grown a pear and dragged her away from that spirit, she wouldn't be in this damned room with these godforsaken scars. She would be with you, where she belonged.

And yet, as her heart still aches and her innards still burn with rage, it does nothing to alleviate the shallowness inside her. The emptiness. The festering yearning in her core as it calls out for you—you, despite being the source of one of her greatest pains. You, despite leaving her for dead on that floor. You, despite having lied to her and ripped her heart out.

Maki swallowed again, moisturizing her throat as she picks herself up again. Momentarily she'd forgotten how to walk. Though her legs carried her anyways and soon enough she was reaching for the door handle, hoping and praying to every god that might be up there that she'd find you right outside.

Her hopes were crushed once again when she only found Shoko and another woman conversing briefly with one another. Shoko was leaning against a wall, a cigarette lingering in one hand and a coffee mug in her other. Steam emanated from the brown liquid, indicating that it'd been made not too long ago.

The woman, who was sitting on one of the couches in the middle of the room—Yuki—turned her head to find Maki walking in. Yuki's eyes lifted when she found Maki shuffling her way into the room. She cocked her head, motioning for her to hurry up.

"I saw you on the floor while I was in Shibuya," Yuki calls out to Maki, who was still standing there. A frown had been painted on her scarred face since the moment she'd woken up just a few minutes ago, and her lips pursed into a line.

"It's a miracle you're alive," Yuki continues despite the silence in return. "What's your name?"

"Yuki, don't pry. She's probably just woken up," Shoko interrupted, taking a slow sip from her coffee. Her other hand—the one with the cigarette lingering between her fingers— held the mug so she wouldn't drop it with her slightly shaky hands. 

"Maki," she answers bluntly, not paying any mind to the look that Shoko spares her for a moment. Yuki, who'd been facing Shoko when she interrupted her, turned her head to now face Maki once again as her lips parted slightly.

"Ah," she nodded her head briefly. Maki knew she was hiding something—as if Yuki had known everything about her already just from hearing her name. And then Maki wondered back to the time that you were gone. She connected the dots—the familiarity in Yuki's tone, the nod to her head, and the wild guess that she'd made—her eyebrows furrow when she comes to a conclusion.

Yuki senses that Maki had already figured it out, and she falls silent again, turning away from Maki and crossing her legs in her spot on the couch. The room is thickly silent for a solid moment, the atmosphere getting more opaque with each second that passes as the three women stay in their spots.

Maki glanced at the table which adjacent from where Shoko was standing, and saw her shattered phone laying on the face of it. She cringed on the inside, but reached over for it with her scarred hand and grabbed it. Her screen lit up—the cracks looked like spiderwebs had been forming on it. She could barely make out the time at the top of her screen before she squinted her eye—her other eye had been bandaged, she realized when she couldn't squint the other one. 

Her lock screen was a picture she'd taken from earlier in the year—her birthday, to be exact. It was the day she'd gotten her bangs done again, and she'd taken you with her. To see your face on her screen, your cheeks pressed together, your eyes locked on her instead of the lens. Maki turned her phone off to be met with a black screen, and her scarred reflection staring right back at her as a reminder of her pain.

She let out a soft, almost inaudible, shaky breath before turning it back on and unlocking it. Her fingers swiftly glided across her screen as she opened her messages and tapped Yuta's contact. She paused, thinking for a moment of what to say as she stared at the most recent text he'd sent. They'll come around. I know they will. If only she could slap him in the face for saying that—she'd even go as far as believing he jinxed it. But she knows she can't blame him. It isn't Yuta's fault she's in her own company now. Not Shoko or Yuki's—despite the other two being in a proximity with her— no one may shoulder the responsibility nobody will mention but Maki herself.

She eventually began typing on autopilot—the time she'd spent staring at her screen was a little too long for her liking. Shoko momentarily glanced up from her coffee mug as she heard the bubbly tapping effects as Maki's thumbs quickly moved in a flash. Shoko remembered how bizarre you thought it was the first time you heard it when you were in Shoko's office. She'd been sitting in her office chair and making a tweet when you walked in—your face was immediately puzzled when you heard the sound. She'd nearly forgotten you never had a phone before last year before you asked her what that noise was. Now she quietly chuckles bitterly at the memory, no trace of humor in her voice as she sips her coffee.

There was nothing to talk about. Or if there was the conversation would somehow find its way to be about you. Neither of them were willing to compromise the silence for the possibility of that topic. Although you were a serious topic—supposedly running around Shibuya killing whoever you pleased and leaving a blood trail on the streets— the silence was too comfortable to disturb.

Shoko felt herself growing uneasy with the atmosphere getting thicker to the point she could cut it with a butter knife or a scalpel. She lightly pushed herself off the wall, swiftly stepping over to the coffee table on the other side of the room. She grabbed a cup from the small stack on one half of the table, then started the coffee machine.

The quiet whirring of the machine vibrated in the room, making the air all the more opaque as Shoko stood there, looming over the table. Yuki spared her a glance, her leg lightly bouncing over her thigh before she looked back down. She sighed quietly, briefly shaking her head free of the pressure of her surroundings.

Shoko grabbed the cup from underneath the coffee machine with nimble fingers, her other hand reaching for a sleeve and a top, holding both of them in her hand. She closed the cup first, trapping the steam in with the top before sliding it through the light brown sleeve. Shoko carefully held it as she turned away from the table and strolled towards Maki, handing her the cup.

"Coffee?" Shoko suggested, though not really giving her a second to answer as the cup was pushed closer to Maki's chest.

Maki wasn't too fond of the taste of coffee, especially without cream and sugar, but still she took the cup from Shoko's hand, mumbling a nearly inaudible 'thank you' and holding it with both hands. She softly blew the cup through the tiny slit at the top before taking a sip, the liquid's taste burning her throat. Maki pulled the cup away from her lips, clearing her throat after swallowing the coffee and wiping her mouth with her thumb. She thought back to when you first tried coffee—how it had you coughing up a lung and groaning at the taste even after cream and sugar had been added (more like just sugar and one drop of cream). Her muscles tugged under her skin and a smile was forming at the memory for a split second before she hid it with another sip of her coffee, grimacing at the taste.

The air stood still as Maki thought she was finally at a moment of peace, her heart steadying instead of sinking like it had been for the time you'd been gone.

"You guys are depressing as hell," Yuki cut the silence with her voice and a dry chuckle, getting up from her spot on the couch. Neither of them spared a glance as Yuki began to saunter out of the room, stopping at the steps and turning away from them for a moment.

"Tsukumo," Shoko called out, earning a flicker of Yuki's gaze flashing over to her. "Don't go looking for anyone out there." She glares at Yuki. "You know who I'm talking about."

"Yeah, yeah. I won't, they wouldn't want me to anyways," Yuki rolls her eyes before turning on her heel and going back to leaving for the door, marching up the stairs and flinging the door open, letting in a small gust of wind.

———

Cold air blew through Yuta's hair as he stood in the middle of the streets, his katana in his hand as he glances down at his phone in his left hand. His screen showed the most recent update on your location (which was last updated an hour ago, so he didn't have much hope with that source). Somewhere in an alleyway just a few blocks down, he began trudging and swiftly sheathing his katana back into its case and letting his phone fall into his pocket.

His mind raced with ideas. What if you were still violent? What if you'd already left the city? Does he really have the heart to fight you? He couldn't fathom the idea that he was sitting in the same room with you just a year ago, trusting you and being your friend. He shook the thought away from his head, the sight in his minds eye fading away like someone waved their hand through a cloud of smoke.

He turned a corner which would lead straight to that alleyway just down the street to be met with empty bags tossing in the wind and the moonlight shining down on the road. The scene was quite melodramatic—it was dead silent, save for the songs of the wind that was whispering in his ear and all the same blowing his hair. It seemed like a perfect opportunity for you to jump out and ambush him—though there wasn't many hiding spots after getting a good look at it. All the shops were closed down and surprisingly none of the windows had any signs of damage. His mind couldn't conclude if it was even more suspicious or not.

No—if you were smart then you would leave as little a trace of your presence as possible when you're on the run. Smashing windows and kicking down doors isn't very discreet. Entering buildings the normal way would be smarter, he concluded, and started checking every building for any signs that you'd visited.

As he assumed, he found none. Not even one speck of residue from your cursed presence. Yuta sighed softly before he began walking out of the last building and unzipped his pocket. His pale hand pulled out his phone and checked for any missed messages before unlocking it and texting Maki, a melancholic look on his face.

Yuta

No luck so far (just now)

He then checked for any updates on your location— he saw one and concluded that a brave window saw you and had updated it— last updated: 2 min go. His eyes perked wider and his heart sped with anticipation of finally reaching you. His thumbs zoomed in to pinpoint it, then let his phone drop into his pocket and zipped it up with his thumbs.

———

The shade of blood had become familiar in your mind by the end of the day—at the last hour before the minute hand struck midnight. Its devilishly red pigment staining the ground seemed to paint a picture of yourself with everyone you killed. Life after life, each beating heart you stopped in hopes to restart yours, ending lives in an attempt to fix your own. The blood had painted an awful picture of you—even though it looked exactly like you. A walking bloodstain.

The weight of your sword felt much too heavy for your fingers to keep tightening around. You thought that if you'd reinforced your grip anymore then surely your fingers would sink into the flesh of your own palm, so you let it fall. A small clang resonated in the air but with no resulting echo. You were almost out of cursed energy, and your legs were shaking from pushing yourself tonight.

Your lungs and heart were perfectly normal, but your breathing was quick and shallow. A burning ached in your stomach when you realized you hadn't eaten a thing all day, you'd been burning physical energy you didn't have on fighting and killing. You squinted your eyes as they flickered around your area, searching for any signs of a store or restaurant that wasn't blasted to hell from tonight.

You shuffled your way through Shibuya, your steps more frequent, though you weren't moving any faster than the echoes your footsteps gave away. Your eyes darted around for any sight of food or even water, and your eyes widened when you saw a door just casually flung open. The glass on it wasn't shattered, indicating that it was still in one piece.

You sped up your shuffling, stepping closer to the door and gripping the side of it. You pulled yourself around the opened door and hurried in, immediately reaching for the open water left on the counter. The top portion of the water missing didn't matter much to you when you were dehydrated and exhausted. The feeling of the cool liquid splashing onto your tongue and moisturizing your throat was almost foreign, filling your body with more life with each loud swallow.

You abandoned the bottle once it was empty after only a moment had passed, then you quickly passed through the aisles and started ripping open the first things you saw. You were ravaging it all like a lion that had been starved for a thousand years, the sounds of bags rustling and falling onto the floor.

The door opened again, the bell ringing and indicating that someone walked in and it wasn't just the wind. You paused, your skin prickling as goosebumps appeared over your arms; the presence that had just entered was strong, not as much as your own, but it was overwhelming nonetheless.

"I know you're here," that voice echoed through the store as you quietly tiptoed to the bathroom. Yuta stepped through each aisle and checked the refrigerated section. His eyes narrowed when he watched the women's bathroom door slowly swing shut. He lightened his footsteps, slowly stepping over to the bathroom and waiting outside the door.

His back was against the wall, his head turned to the door. A bead of sweat slowly made its way down his burning neck, his arm extending so he could slowly push the door open.

He quickly stepped out and kicked it open out of impatience, unsheathing his katana and holding it in front of him as he stepped in. The lights were off, probably from the power outage in the city, leaving him blind. The room was silent, save for the hitch of his shaking breath and his footsteps. Yuta swallowed, moving his hand around so he could try and push open a stall.

His body let out a tiny sigh of relief as he saw that you weren't in the first one. He slowly moved to the next one, pushing it open and listening to the creak of the door. The suspense in his chest was growing with the echoing whine of the door as he moved on to other one. 

He pushed open the third one, the second to last one. Sweat dribbled down his forehead and drenched his face. The atmosphere was seeming to get thicker with each passing second that he was in this damn bathroom. His heart dropped when the third stall was empty, meaning you were in the last one.

Before he could push the door open, you already jumped out and threw a punch to his cheek, knocking him back. You sped past Yuta, dashing past the door and weaving through the aisles of the store. Yuta rubbed his jaw while stumbling out of the bathroom and chasing after you.

You were already out of the store and running down the street by the time he'd reached the front door. Your legs felt like jelly and your forehead was glistening with sweat, but the wind blowing against your skin felt nice. It was like a reliever from being chased down.

Yuta dashed out of the store and sped up in your direction. Rika suddenly appeared behind you and grabbed you with her hands, holding you back and turning you so you could face Yuta. He flipped his katana around and immediately pushed it into your hip, stabbing right through the bone. Your eyes widened as a shout rippled from your throat, beads of sweat sliding down the side of your face and your throat. 

"You're coming with me," he spat, getting in your face and putting on an irritated expression. "Consider yourself lucky I don't have Rika snap you in half."

"You wouldn't," you narrow your eyes in disbelief. "That rat would do anything you say as long as you really meant it. D'you really wanna kill an old friend?"

"We're not friends," Yuta countered despite the slow sinking of his heart in his chest; this wasn't necessarily the way this was supposed to go. "Not after what you did."

"Old friend, Yuta, use your ears," you frown, wincing when his blade digs deeper into your hip bone.

"Look at you, big and bad Y/n running around Shibuya all night killing people, stuck on my sword like a marshmallow on a stick. What happened to the confidence you had to take lives earlier, huh?"

You felt a seething anger boil up in your insides when Yuta belittles you, your teeth grinding together and your jaw clenching tightly. Your hand flies up to the handle of his katana and attempting to pull it out of your bone. An almost-paralyzing pain shocks your whole body, another shout escaping your throat and echoing throughout the block. Your hand falls off before Yuta could pry it off, your entire body almost falling limp and passing out from the pain.

"You're coming with me," Yuta repeats, this time more hostile as his voice is laced with a venom that makes your (at the moment) frail heart drop. Yuta got a little closer to your face until your noses were only an inch away.

"Don't struggle," he muttered softly. "I already used reverse cursed technique on your hip, so just stay still."

Yuta gripped his handle tighter to keep a steady hold on his katana, slowly pulling it out of your hipbone. A sticky, almost wet sound resonated from your body as his blade was coming out, your body practically vibrating in Rika's iron grip. You winced and hissed and sighed and whined even after the blade was out. Yuta glanced down at it and cringed at the blood on it, glistening in the moonlight shining down on you both.

"Rika-chan, please keep a hold on Y/n for me," Yuta's mood did a complete 180 as he flashed the shinigami a warm, charming smile that had your stomach turning inside out. Your face shifted in disgust before you felt your feet being lifted off the ground. You looked around and noticed that you both were floating now, and Yuta was walking a steady pace ahead of you her, wiping his katana off on his sleeve and pushing it back into its case.

———

The air was getting thick, colder as the night was moving on.

October had officially ended, says the time on Naoya's watch around his wrist. 12:04 AM. He'd been staying out late in light of the Shibuya incident and how Naobito was assessing someone—he never found out who it was but he does know that Naobito hasn't come back to the Zenin estate. 

His face wore a stern expression—his eyebrows furrowed, in their default state, his lips pursed into a frown and his eyes narrowed. He looked like someone squeezed lemon juice in his eyes. Naoya let his arm drop after getting a good look at the time, the cool November breeze blowing in his hair. He turned his body around and his feet trudged against the ground as he walked towards a sidewalk that led to the subway underneath it.

He stopped when he found two other people on the low ground—Yuji, and another guy Naoya didn't recognize. He looked around once again, searching for Megumi and frowning when he didn't see any sign of him.

"What are you two doing? You totally stand out. Don't you wanna run?" Naoya inquired.

"Run?" Yuji looked up in the direction he heard Naoya's voice come from.

"Don't you know? Your execution is back on since Satoru's support is gone."

Yuji looked back at the other guy, whom Naoya still couldn't find any recollection of but heard Yuji calling him something along the lines of 'Choso'. 

"My business is with Megumi...and another brat, so I don't really care if you live or die." Naoya jumped down from his spot and landed within a distance of Yuji and Choso. "But I also can't have you prancing around, so I might as well start by breaking your legs."

"What do you want with Fushiguro?" Yuji frowned, gritting his teeth. "And...who's the other one?"

"I think it'd be best if I had Megumi die," Naoya grinned cheekily. "And the other brat is an acquaintance of mine. They're also wanted so I'm on the hunt for them, too."

Naoya threw a punch to Yuji first, knocking him back before turning to Choso. He jabbed Choso's arm with his elbow and pulled him closer to bash foreheads with him. Choso stumbled back a few steps before him and Yuji both went to jump Naoya.

He sighed quietly before leaping up and away to avoid their punches, landing on the other side of the ground. Naoya gently scratched his head with disdain written on his face. Unfortunately he was expecting the same talent he'd seen from you considering you and Yuji both went to the same school, although he wasn't exactly disappointed with Yuji's speed.

"You're tougher than I thought. Honestly I didn't expect all that much," Naoya averted his gaze between Yuji and Choso. "Should I try upping my speed—"

A shiver went up everyone's spines, making them stand up straight and fix their posture. Naoya felt a bead of sweat roll down the back of his neck, his skin feeling like he's being roasted over a fire. His heart dropped momentarily as his head whipped around to find the source of the stress creeping up his spine. 

He found a building which Yuta was standing at the top of, Rika behind him holding you in her grasp, unconscious. Naoya grit his teeth upon seeing you out cold and held captive by some guy (whom he assumed was a complete stranger to you). Yuta was clutching the handle of his katana's case, preparing to take it out as he glanced at each of the men down there.

"Wonderful. You're not alone," Yuta muttered, swiftly taking his katana out from his case and held it out. He quickly leaped down from the building, making a harsh fall and landing on the ground and crumbling some of the wall that was leaving Naoya, Yuji and Choso on the low ground. 

"Who's with Itadori, hm?"

"So you're Yuji's executioner," Choso frowned defensively.

Naoya looked around between Yuta and Choso, then at Rika as she floated down. His jaw clenches as he got a closer look at You lying asleep in her abnormally large hands, her grip seemingly iron tight around you. His fists clenched tightly before he raised his hands defensively, pulling everyone's attention to him.

"Wait a second!"

Yuta glanced at Naoya indifferently, his face slightly shifting to one of disinterest, his eyebrow lifting slowly.

"I'm on your side," Naoya countered. "You're Okkotsu, right?"

"Who are you?" Yuta inquired, his face lifting into a grimace.

"Naoya Zenin, Maki's cousin. I'm also here to kill Itadori," Naoya glanced at you once again, then back at Yuta. This didn't go unnoticed by him, as Yuta's own gaze flickered to your unconscious body.

"Don't worry. I won't interfere. However...if you do end up killing Yuji, would you refrain from informing your superiors for a little while? He's bait for somebody I need to meet."

"Zenin..." Yuta muttered, glancing back at you once again and keeping his eye on you this time. "Did you know Y/n here?"

Naoya frowned. "And if I did?"

Yuta popped a knuckle, swallowing quietly. He watched you stir in your sleep and he got the feeling you were about to wake up. He saw your eyes flickering and twitching from all the commotion, and he turned back to Naoya to face him.

"Very well. Rika-chan, please keep Y/n somewhere safe for me."

Rika floated away and lifted you somewhere you wouldn't be affected by the fight, setting you down on the ground as your eyes began fluttering open.

Your hip was still aching from Yuta stabbing right through it, the bone throbbing terribly and making you groan quietly. You sat up as soon as Rika began floating away, watching the shinigami levitating and flying off to join Yuta. You blinked in disbelief for half a second before scratching the side of your head with your hand.

You sighed loudly and fell back against the ground, hitting your head and feeling a throb resonating in the back of your skull. You looked up at the sky, watching the stars freeze in the dark dome above the horizon. It was the only peaceful thing you've seen all night, a pause from all the fighting and chaos and drama and death and destruction. Your chest rose and fell, a smile almost etched itself onto your face until it was interrupted by a yawn.

You heard crashes and shouts of sorts, and your head instinctively turned in its direction. You couldn't get up and join whatever fight may be going on, you're much too weak for it at the moment. Your hip is still sore, as well as your cursed energy being literal fumes. A particularly loud crash got your attention, making you turn your head again to find Rika floating back up and grabbing you off the ground.

Your feet dangled in the air as you flew down to the inside of the subway, blood covered the walls and stained the floor. The tint of red got darker and more opaque the further you got in the subway, and soon Rika carried you in her large hand and found Yuta dragging Yuji by his shirt.

"Thank you, Rika-chan," Yuta flashed her another warm smile that made your stomach coil in on itself in disgust; a part of you wanted to throw up. Yuta looked back at you as his smile dropped. "Are you gonna behave now?"

"You wish I would." You countered with a glare. Rika's hand tightened around your body, squeezing your ribs and making you twist and turn in her grip. "Ok, fine!"

"You're coming with me and Yuji back to Jujutsu Tech now. It'll be a while since Yuji's out cold, so just behave yourself for a while until we get back. And, there's someone who wants to see you, so don't be an ass."

"Who?" You lift a brow, your glare sharpening as Yuta stayed quiet after that.

"Hey! I'm not promising anything until I know who wants to see me!"

"You'll find out when you get there. It might even help you with your sour mood," Yuta frowned as he lifted Yuji over his shoulder, walking off in a direction you assumed was facing Jujutsu Tech.

———

It felt like forever ago since Maki had last gotten any news from Yuta.

Her anxiety was rising just from the radio silence. Shoko could sense her tension from across the room even when she'd returned with a uniform she'd scrounged up and brought back to Maki. She was sure this one suited her; a black sleeveless turtleneck with some flappy cape and high waisted pants. She even flapped the cape around for a moment before settling down and acting mature again, sitting with her legs crossed on the couch in that little bunker until Yuki showed up again.

Maki was no doubt insecure on the inside about her scars. She wouldn't know what you'd think when you see her again—would you be surprised?—surely not, you'd watched that curse run up to her and left her to burn to a crisp. Surely you wouldn't judge her—you never judged her for anything (but that was while she was still pretty, would that change?). Those scars went from her hips and all the way up to the top of her face, permanently damaging her skin (as well as her right eye) and making her unable to be stared at (in a positive light, at least—not that she'd enjoyed being stared at in the first place). She would never show her insecurity directly—though Shoko could see it, in the way she draped her cape over her arms to cover them and looked down at her lap as to not let Shoko see the burn marks. 

Maki sat in the comfortable silence until the door kicked open.

"Good news, fellow ladies," Yuki chirped as she marched down the stairs and stood proudly in the middle of the room. Maki and Shoko both looked up at her with long faces that signaled Yuki to go on with her statement.

"I'm positive Okkotsu has a hold on both Itadori Yuji and Hatake Y/n!! I'm not sure if they're alive, though..."

"I know one of them is alive," Maki grumbled under her breath, crossing her arms and looking away. Shoko glanced at Maki with a hint of empathy in her gaze, watching her face change as Maki's jaw clenched. "I'd kill him if one of them died by his hand."

"It doesn't take a genius to guess who. They should be here soon, and we're about to check out Tengen's barrier, so let's head out."

"I'm staying here," Shoko shook her head. "I've no business with Hatake anymore."

"Understandable. Maki?" Yuki glanced at Maki with a slight grin. Maki sighed and got up from her spot on the couch, her heart pounding in her chest. Adrenaline was racing through her veins and for a moment she felt like she was back against that tree again—that same damn tree she where she watched you take breaks from training, fidget with that damn rubix cube, write whatever it was you were fixated on in your notebook.

"I'll go," she muttered. Despite her cold and quiet demeanor, her heart was pounding on the inside. Not with nerves or bashfulness or anything that could be seen as a romantic look on her. But with anger. And a bit of sadness but she decided not to dwell on that. The anger eating away at her heart was what was making her hands shake, as if they were ready to beat you to death the moment you were in her line of vision.

Yuki nodded briefly before turning around and marching back up the stairs, holding the door open for Maki as the both of them walked out.

The air wasn't as cold as Maki expected it to be. She didn't expect her breath to be seen every time she exhaled, but she didn't expect humidity, either. She felt a stickiness begin clinging to her skin the further out her and Yuki trudged to find the entrance to Tengen's barrier, marching through the greenery that surrounded Jujutsu Tech.

It seemed Yuta was taking forever with bringing you back to Jujutsu Tech, time was dragging on in exaggerated minutes like it was tugging a bolder with it. The hour felt like an eternity, making Maki feel like she was getting years older with each step she took. She was tired enough and stressed enough to feel older. The bags under her eyes were probably masked by the burn marks—those damned things, cursing her for the rest of her days to be seen as something unworthy of a man's attention—or even worse, your attention.

She didn't let that get to her, as her thoughts had been distracted by Yuki announcing that they were finally reaching Tengen's barrier. They'd stopped just before breaching it, waiting for that door to kick open and a very battered you marching down those steps—no, not marching; it's uncharacteristic; trudging? Limping would be better. It would give Maki the satisfaction of seeing you look at least a fraction of how she feels. Beat up and wounded by another's hand other than her own made her seethe, but her knuckles breaking skin and breaking a jaw that was your own felt like a punch to the gut—if it was as bad as her own thoughts made her believe. To pull her arm back in preparation to attack and cause an aching in your bones, to strike a sword to your skin and make a gash which blood and pain would seep through the gap of your flesh. To get a look at what was going on inside—literally and figuratively—seeing the outline of your body in such a hollow shell, seeing the blood drip down and surrounding you in a circle of a tainted red. That was what she wanted—if it was a fraction of how bad her thoughts made her believe.

"They should be here soon," Yuki remarks, looking up at the doors and furrowing a brow. "They're taking an unusual amount of time. Unless Okkotsu doesn't know where he's going...?"

The two doors up top were pulled open, a handful of people walking down the steps quietly. Maki turned to look at the door with an uninterested look and low hopes when she first saw Yuji walk in. Her distaste for the boy wasn't with her worst wishes—there's no real reason to hate him.

"Long time no see...but not really."

"Maki-senpai?!"

Yuji hopped down the last two steps—Maki hoped it was a habit of his, she thinks she'd throw up if it was for her. The next person to walk in was Yuta, a worried look on his face. Maki wasn't paying attention to that. What she was looking at was the person lifted over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

"Maki!" Yuta yelped, hurrying down the stairs with little care of how your body tossed in the light grip of his arm. Maki furrowed a brow but made no effort to chastise him for his lack of consideration.

"Is it ok for you to move around?"

"Yup. No problem," Maki turned her secondary focus back to your unconscious body over his shoulder, lifting a brow.

"Oh...they were protesting coming here," Yuta gently lifted you off his tired shoulder and held you up with his hands. Maki took control of it immediately and took you in her grasp; Yuta watching her hands hold you up under your arms. She stared at your sleeping face—even unconscious you never looked at peace. Maki felt a twinge of sadness in her chest and adjusted her grip on you to at least make sure your unconscious body was a little comfortable.

"I can wake them up if you need me to."

"That'd be favorable."

Yuta hesitantly took his index and middle fingers and inched them closer to your forehead. He occasionally glanced back at Maki in one second intervals to see if she wasn't preparing to attack him for even grazing your hair. His fingertips lightly tapped your forehead, sending a shockwave through your body and making your eyes jolt open.

Maki's own eyes widened when she saw you waking up, her heart stopping for half a second. A warmth spread through her body as she saw you wriggling in her hands, kicking your feet like a kid and frowning. Maki blinked away the stun she was put in and put you down on the floor, looking straight at you with her default frown.

You stepped away from Maki with wide eyes; your irises glimmered in the dim glow of the light that was hanging off the ceiling. You stared at her as your heart sank in your chest; this was your doing— her scars, the bandages over her eye, the tired look on her face. It was your fault. You left her there—to burn, to be scarred with memories of the night and to stay with her until her last breath. It nearly made you tear up; your eyes were warming up and growing irritated from the tears that were just about to appear. You bit your tongue to keep them contained in their tear ducts, going back to a frown and looking away.

It's crazy how you immediately recognized Maki; maybe it was from that sharp look in her eye that was always present, no matter how tired or how worn out she was. You could never miss those broad shoulders—you could spot them anywhere in a sea of people. Even with her scars your mind fills the gap of what her skin used to be. You wondered if it was still soft between the ridges of burned tissue; in your mind's eye you were caressing her cheeks and arms and other places soothing her with gentle and well-deserved massages. You would find a knot with your fingers, noticing how her back slightly twitches and gently pressing down. Her muscles would tense beneath the delicate touch of your fingertips and slowly rub the knot until her muscles felt loose again, listening and drinking in the sigh of satisfaction that would escape her lips.

"Why am I not with the Higher Ups?" You glared at Yuta, your eyebrows furrowing; the bridge of your nose scrunches up. There are four creases on your forehead, Maki notices; the only indication that your mood swung from being sad when your gaze was on her to being frustrated and angry with Yuta.

"It...took me a while to convince them to let me keep you, and that I killed Yuji. That's also why we're a little late," Yuta glances at Maki nervously in hopes she would ease the situation with her charm that typically cooled your attitude; to no avail. He figured that charm was lost after she'd told you to leave.

"But, we're here now. And in one piece. That's good for all of us."

The whole room was silent as everyone—you, Maki, Yuji, Choso, and Yuki—stared at Yuta. Nobody's face was judgmental but nobody was appreciative of his attempt to lighten up the mood of the room.

"Tough crowd...let's just go to Tengen's barrier."

And for the first time—in a long time, a time which had put you through the throes of despair and pain that made your heart wrench into a raisin—you were walking next to Maki again.

[calamitys-child]

Something about like. Longitudinal dysphoria. Like it's well known at least in groups ive chatted to that a lot of people get dysphoria about stuff sorta one thing at a time, most commonly people who wanted top surgery but not bottom surgery getting rid of the primary focus of their dysphoria at their chest and deciding subsequently that they Do want lower surgery bc they are now more cognizant of that dysphoria. Like fork theory. Get the big fork out and you suddenly notice the little forks more. Anyway I'm at peace with my build and my chest, and I love my shit lil beard and body hair, and respect where my voice is at, and I don't want bottom surgery. I don't. I don't get dysphoria about the fact I have this anatomy, and I do not yearn for the results of that surgery at a level which outweighs the effort it would take to seek, undergo, recover from, and continue with the results of that surgery. I think what I Do always get dysphoria over is simply the Inconvenience. Having to wait to use a stall in the typical men's toilets one stall four urinals set up always always pisses me off (pun intended) purely because its so ANNOYING. My gender is man (inconvenient) and normally I get to play and enjoy and relish in that Inconvenience but every time I'm standing in a tiny public bathroom trying to stay out everyone's way bc I have to piss in the one (1) stall it fucks me off like. I've been on t for 3+ years when do I get to surpass this hurdle in my physical being (never without invasive surgery with an intense recovery for results I don't really want) like CMON man have I not put enough xp into transsexualism to be good at pissing at urinals yet. I deserve this for pure efficiency's sake if nothing else

[turbotasthick]

✨Why Noface x bm is so sexy as a couple✨

(i am cringe, but i am free)

( Just an FYI: i know im silly, and i know very well this is a fictional character im doing this solely for fun and for the stupids 🥰 i dont care if its "cringe" or "stupid" i am free, mother fuckers.)

ANYWAYS.

Lets start with her backstory. Noface is an experiment conducted by the creator to be a weapon for the government. All her life shes only known how to fight, shapeshift, train, and FEED (FLESH). all her life shes been under the cruel guide under the creator until she gain her own thinking, and senses and became feral, insane. a monster set out loose into the world and the creator forgetting about her at some point.

now that ive explained her backstory let me explain why theyd make such a great team/couple/murder hobos together

1. THE SAME PROBLEMS

First. They both have a hunger for flesh and blood. Its both in their nature to eat and to feed on human flesh and they cannot seem to stop that.

Second. They both seem to have a longing for a connection. Weve seen bm yearn for a connection, or some sort of understanding- fuck weve even seen and heard him call several people fathers you cant tell me this fucker wants some sort of bond. While my girl, Noface (NOT THE STUDIO GHIBLI CHARACTER FUCKERS) also has seen relationships. Her victims- she cant seem to help but be curious about it.. wanting to *try* something as nice as that.

third. They both know what its like to be used constantly. Weve seen bloodmoon constantly go from person to person to be used by a tool. Noface has faced that same problem with one person for YEARS. I feel like they could relate, and empathize with each other with that problem. Even though they both wont admit it right away.

fourth. Theyre deeply embedded on their "purpose" Bloodmoon thinks killing is what theyre good for and the only thing he can do. that and it HURTS them to stop. honestly same with noface. She believes that shes nothing more then a monster who was destined to kill. To be used as a weapon either way.

2. GOALS

Theyre both animalistic monsters whos sole goal is to Eat, and hunt... ehe REVENGE on certain people.

3. PERSONALITIES

Both have wild, loud, and crazy energies. Thanks to that i feel like they could keep each other entertained and not be overwhealmed by the others snarky personality, or the others edgy, shocking humor..and the sass. I feel like their energies could compliment each other.

🥰 Thats it. thats the fucking post🥰

✨( Expect me dumping more at some point. maybe something about how they met, how they developed a fondness for each other, and how they ended up together in the end. Why? because i just have that autistic rizz no else one has )✨

[ao3feed-brucewayne]

Men Ive Known And Killed

read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/4kuoG2l by GoreGutzzz “Thick fingers were hanging onto the gun on his hand like a lifeline. There was nothing but hate in that yellow eye of his. Something seething and dark as it curled around him and spat venom onto the woman he was keeping in his arms. But that hate was suddenly tinted with a yearning so hard it made the black haired man stumble backward when he looked at him. “Bruce” the words slipped out of his lips, vulnerable and soft like he had been starved of whatever he had now found by looking at Bruce’s face, before turning sinister as if the words were bile. “It's been a long time. Don’t you remember an old friend?” OR Heartbroken and jealous Harvey creates a hostage situation at Bruce's house just to see Bruce again. And Batman fucking aches at the sight. Words: 3189, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English Fandoms: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Categories: M/M Characters: Bruce Wayne/Batman, Dick Grayson, Damian Wayne, Alfred Pennyworth, Harvey Dent/Two-Face, Selina Kyle/Catwoman, Julie Madison, Cassandra Cain, Stephanie Brown, Jason Todd, Rogues Gallery (Batman) Relationships: Harvey Dent/Bruce Wayne, Batman/Two-Face Additional Tags: no beta we die like jason, Slow Burn, sorta?, Yearning, so much yearning, Bruce Wayne Tries to Be a Good Parent, Harvey Dent Has Trauma, Harvey has DID - Dissociative Identity Disorder, Medical Inacurracies, Cause Author Is Not a Fucking Doctor, Canon-Typical Violence, Alfred Is So Sassy, Bat-Fam Shennanigans read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/4kuoG2l

[rueclfer]

hallo help a girl out please ree,

As someone whos never really dated before i think im getting a crush but like I DONT KNOW FEELINGS

Let me lay the scene for you: IMAGINE THIS youre in your ap psychology class, its week two of classes and your friend’s friend comes up in the spare minutes left to talk with his friend. They chat and stuff and i hear something about soccer and say a lil something abt soccer bcos i love to watch it and support my team, and the friends friend, lets call him A, he says to our mutual friend,

“omg i didnt know u had a female friend that like soccer” SO LIKE A DAY LATER ANOTHER FRIEND OF A AND OUR MUTUAL FRIEND JOINS US AFTER OUR LESSON FOR THE PERIOD. and im like “dang hes kinda cute right” oh! Lets call him K. So K and i start talking and i learn hes a Tottemham spurs fan which is yuck but wtvr. So we talk abt soccer and clubs and teams and players and yada yada. Then on like monday i think, he gives me something out of the blue. K GAVE ME A TRADING CARD OF MY FAVORITE PLAYER IN A SLEEVE AND EVERYTHING. I was like

“i know ure making fun of me and my fav player (joshua kimmich btw 🙏) but idc im gonna cherish this tysm” and he was like

“yea ur welcome” THEN THE NEXT DAY HE GIVES ME ANOTHER CARD OF ANOTHER PLAYER SO NOW I HAVE TWO ?? I didnt even know these things existed!!

and like hes nice but also kinda mean bcos he dogs on my team and players and stuff but like is is banter ?? Does he actually hate me ?? Does he kinda like me ?? Do i like him ?? IDONTKNOWREE ive never really felt this im genuinely looking forward to class to see him (we have psych 4th so i have to wait 4 hrs to see him) like it gets me so excited and happy and i wanna chat w him and joke and laugh but like do i only feel this way bcos ive always romanticized love and relationships and thus wanna be in one or do i like him ive only really known him for a week and a halfish am i jumping the gun i dont knowww arrUUGHHH

-♣️ (is this one taken?)

okay leme put on my glasses LMAO hi ♣️ i literally thought this was going to be abt you and A but u switched up on me !!! so its you and K. okay.

this is definitely giving some type of rivals to lovers and im always on board with being delusional and diving head first into that!! BUUTT u gotta understand that the essence of men is pure stupidity so while youre maybe reading the card exchange as flirting, hes maybe just thinking that hes making a cool friend. i think crushes make the world go round and its fun to look forward to ur days bc of a guy u like!! nothing wrong with that but u should def just be buddies for at least half the school year first before u start yearning hardcore hehe

[tinydappledleaf]

Title: Stay

Chapter: 4/6

Pairing: Ezra x f!Reader, Ezra x you (Reader is addressed by 'you' or nickname)

Rating: 18+, smut in chapter 6

Content: Situationship to romance, soft Ezra, intimacy, loss of limb (non-explicit), canon compliant

Summary: When you've almost given up waiting for him, a certain prospector returns to the Pug to call in a favor...

Ao3: complete fic

《 chapter 3 chapter 5 》

Chapter IV

Ezra’s health steadily improves over the following cycles. So does his connection to Cee. More often than not you find them immersed in their respective reading, side by side on your worn couch, or discussing the novels that keep them busy. 

You hadn’t even known there was a library within walking range of your complex. You were told it was by no means large and consisted mostly of questionable survival guides for the odd floater prone to reading. But it hadn’t taken Cee long to sniff out a small section of old novels, idly gathering dust on a neglected corner shelf. 

Ever since Cee disclosed her secret lair of entertainment to curious Ezra, the two of them occasionally vanish for walks and return with a new stack of reading material. 

Each time you see them come in and witness the girl’s carapace of wariness thaw further, a content warmth settles within you. Their encounter, out in the Green, was nothing but a long string of unfortunate circumstances, tightly wrapped in the moon’s overall perilous conditions. There was no turning back time. No taking back rash and questionable decisions on either side. 

Still, they make it work, oscillating between forgetting and forgiving what can’t be undone – somehow saving each other from falling prey to the lurking spiral of debilitating ‘what if’s’.

Whilst they tentatively form their bond, you are more focused than ever. Measurements taken cycles prior, you ceaselessly work on Ezra’s prosthesis. And when he’s not out and about with Cee or poring over shared literature, he’s by your side and shamelessly nosey. While he certainly insisted on off-the-shelf design and basic functionality, you’re adamant on making it from scratch. A service you barely exercise with the clientele of mostly mineworkers from the belt or the unluckiest of prospectors. 

You delight in it. In creating shapely, reliable prostheses. In fabricating something that increases the quality of life in each aspect. You want him to feel good with it – and safe. So you pour your entire passion into the task and slowly but surely manufacture a prosthesis, that is him, in any possible sense. 

 

“Why don’t you join us?”

Cee’s question breaks your concentration. You had been so preoccupied by your work, that you nearly missed them leaving. Now Cee stands by the door and eyes you expectantly. Guessing by the stack of three novels in her arms, they’re about to move out on another run for the library.

You eyes flicker back to the elbow joint in your hands, almost ready to be attached to the forearm’s base.

“I ain’t gonna regrow a limb, Patches,” ribs Ezra, “No need to rush.”

He’s got a point, as nasty as that truth tastes. And… even though you won’t admit that out loud, as long as you’re working on the replacement for his arm, he might be inclined to share your quarters for a tad longer. As much as you want to help him get back on his own feet, that thought is tempting. You can’t deny it hasn’t crossed your mind before, mingling with the persistent yearn for his closeness. You’ve adamantly pushed it away, woven those pestering emotions into your drive to work. But now that he's suggesting you to shift down a gear…

“Alright, gimme a sec.”

From the corner of your eye you watch his growing smirk. Somewhat satisfied with hint of relieve. As you set your work aside and slip your arms into the sleeves of your jacket, you wonder if he feels guilty for accepting your help. What you offer has certainly outgrown a simple ‘favor’. Out in the harshness of the Frontiers, Ezra takes what he gets, no questions, no remorse. He’s not one to doubt his actions. You’ve seen him ravage with little care for his kind. But around the girl, around you, a softness surfaces that you adore. 

A softness that shines in the warmth of his eyes when you step outside with them. Sometimes you wonder what kind of man he would have been if he hadn’t been abraded by the roughness of the system’s fringes. A merchant, maybe? An author? Your mind paints a picture of him wielding a pen like wields his thrower. As daring as he’s proficient. You’d have succumbed to his charms all the same.

A stupid, happy smile glues itself to your face as you walk with him in the afternoon sun, listening to his literature shop talk with Cee.

Soon after your successful visit to the tiny dusty library - Cee has swapped her returned novels for a new one - Ezra excuses himself to take care of some business. Tie up a few loose strings of his travels and get himself back out into the world, now that he’s capable of it again. 

You don’t question him, hold back from asking him to be careful. You feel quite ridiculous for even considering that – not that he’d listen anyway. You really need to get a hold of yourself, shake off that weird anxiousness that sprouts whenever he disappears for a bit. You’ll have to deal with him leaving eventually, so better ease back into indifference before your resolve breaks. 

 

You're on your way back home, swerving by one of the rundown streetfood stalls to get some takeaway, when Cee speaks up.

“You like him.”

Its not a question, rather a statement. And for the briefest moments, you’re at a loss of words. She doesn’t even face you, has her nose buried between the pages of her new novel as you set down a bowl of fried ooka roots in front of her.

“’course I do,” you admit and sit across from her, not quite sure where this is coming from. Or going to. “I’ve known him for quite some time. Don’t find many people out here that keep returning, for… various reasons. He’s reliable, mostly-”

“Are you like a couple or something?”

You blink, your cup of tea paused mid-air, half way to your lips. Cut right to the chase, girl, why don’t ya?

“No,” you muster as you set the cup back down. “Ezra isn’t the type for that kind of relationship.  How come you think that?”

The question is out before you think better of it. 

It might have been wise to cut the conversation short at that point, never pick it up again. But if she has noticed, then…

“My dad and I lived here for a bit. People don’t help each other out like that, even if they’re friends. Or pretend to be. But you help us, even though you don’t really have to.”

Her observation tells a lot about the crowds her father had surrounded himself, and her, with. Or had to surround himself with. You don’t judge a man you’ve never met on account of your own assumptions. But it explains and warrants her wariness - and keeps her safe in present day, at least.

“Maybe I’m just exceptionally generous.”

She closes her book, sets it aside and casts you a quizzical glance.

Pulling her food a bit closer, she inspects it before she carefully takes a bite and seems to be pleasantly surprised. Glad that she seems to have dropped the topic to enjoy her meal, you take a sip of your tea.

“I think he likes you, too. You guys stare a lot at each other when you think no one looks,” she mutters defiantly between chewing and you nearly choke.

 

*

 

The rest of your evening consists of tinkering on Ezra’s arm. It takes your mind off things, keeps you from mulling the girl’s statement ceaselessly. It remains in the back of your mind, however, quietly teasing, prodding, prompting you - regardless of how adamantly you try to ignore it.

Ezra returns home late, but with a few surprises. Its obvious he’s made money off his meager haul, traded it in – you don’t dare asking where, you know he’s made as much of it as humanly possible, no matter how shady the trade.

He’s brought another notebook, a few colored pens and clothing for Cee. She’s been wearing some of yours, but none of them fit her shorter and slimmer teenage frame properly. The new ones do, mostly, and for the first time in a while you’ve seen her truly, honestly joyful. None of it is fancy, in any way. But they’re new. And clean. And not some free extra to a pod rent. 

He promises she’ll get to pick a few more if she accompanies him to the shops. That he just got some basics for her to be comfortable in. As he got some for himself. 

He earns a hug for all of it and his dumbfounded expression is adorable enough to sear itself into your memory for lonely days to come. 

All new treasures piled in her arms, Cee retreats into her room, to try them all on properly and marvel her new writing and sketching utensils.

A befuddled Ezra remains with you and sinks onto the couch, still perceptibly exhausted by each trip through the Pug’s convoluted innards. He’s not back to full health yet, still visibly in pain, but you see him grit his teeth and tough it out anyway. Showing weakness out in the void puts you to bed with pickaxe and shovel quicker than two channelrats proliferate. 

There’s nothing to dread in your presence, but you understand it’s a habit hard to shake. 

“That was pretty nice of you,” you remark and slip down your googles over your eyes to sand off a particularly sharp edge. 

“Rather a matter of course than benignity.”

“Oh come on, give yourself some credit, Ez. You could have gone with the cheapest or not get her anything at all. You still did. That is nice.”

He hums to that, not convinced. You hear him smile nonetheless and its infective. The girl does him good. Gives him purpose, even though he’s been incapacitated. Its obvious he’s grown fond of her, will protect her by any means. It sure does feel a little like family, having them around. Like things could have been, in another life. You shake off the thought before it festers and continue your work.

 

When you lay it down eventually, you find the couch deserted, too occupied to have noticed Ezra slip away. To the bathroom, apparently, the light creeping out from under the door discloses.

‘The Streamer Girl’ sits on the provisory dinner table and, with a yawn and a stretch of your aching back, you give in to your curiosity.

Claiming Ezra’s usual spot, you pick up the booklet and sink into the story.

 

Until there's a bellowed curse and loud clatter, followed by a rapid string of inventive expletives in reducing volume. First startled, then alarmed, you drop Cee’s ‘Streamer Girl’ onto the couch and rush into the bathroom, skipping across all courtesies.

You find Ezra at the sink, pressing a towel to his jaw. 

Deep red seeps into grey fabric as he glares at his mirror image. The razor in the sink is your missing clue and suddenly the scene gains some sense. 

“Fuck, Ez” you swear, heart still hammering relentlessly against your ribs. “Lemme see.”

How dare he scare you like that? He’s done enough of that lately. 

He knows you well enough to understand you brook no dissent. Not if he’s hurt, regardless who’s at fault. Dabbing the fabric against his skin once more, he turns and lets you step in close to assess the damage. 

To your relief, it’s merely a small cut right at the seam between his jaw and throat. Not worryingly deep but certainly unpleasant. Just another sting that adds to his remaining pain. You catch his wrist as he tries to wipe away a drop of fresh blood and shake your head. 

“Let it dry. You’ll be fine. Head’s still in place, so all good.” As if to check, you gently cup his jaw and tilt it left and right.

“See?”

That earns you a low chuckle and it warms you that you accomplished to prevent his drop in mood. A warning sits at the tip of your tongue. The gentle reminder for him to be more careful, but it appears tone deaf, even if it’s meant well. You swallow it again. 

“Assist me, then?” He quips, “Lest I inadvertently behead myself.” 

He plucks the razor from the sink and holds it out to you, hilt first. An invitation you eye with surprise, but won’t decline. Ezra’s a proud man. Opportunistic and confident. But never above himself when it comes to asking for help. At least around you.

You gingerly take the razor from his hand. It’s an old-fashioned thing, wooden handle, steel blade. No standard laser utensil. It’s always been a quirk of his that both, appeals and baffles you. 

Once you’ve taken the responsibility from him, the lingering tension seeps from his form. He observes you rinse the blade and holds perfectly still as you spread the wiped off shaving foam back across the remaining salt and pepper whiskers. You pause then, purse your lips. You admit his beard has grown a tad too long, but you’ll miss the stubble. It suits him, compliments his roughness.

“The ‘stache stays,” you decide as you set to work, and he suppresses the amused twitch of his lips. 

“Hold still,” you chastise, and he obeys. His eyes close, a sign of trust, as you set the blade to his jaw.

Each slow pass of the razor across his skin stokes a silent fire within him. You observe it in the way he tilts his jaw into your free hand, in how his fist curls and uncurls at his side. You can hear the air crackle, sense the growing tension that seeks to break the surface. It tempts you. He tempts you.

His eyes flicker open and his fiery gaze burns into yours, honeyed irises darkening as you watch. It’s a well-known game for the two of you. Has been, whenever he popped by before leaping headfirst into his next adventure. It’s a game of desire you both excel in. The tiniest wordless step further than trust and friendship that you dare. A silent agreement for the sake of satisfaction.

You get it, his desire. Or at least try to grasp it. He's been trapped on a toxic moon with a silent brute for his sole company. Little to no means to just... let go. To gain just a spike of euphoria in otherwise dire circumstances. 

Still, you refuse to give into his pull. You won't be the one to tear his stitches, damage him worse. Still growing worn out by a shopping trip, he’s not yet back in shape. 

At least that's what you tell yourself, hiding the bitter truth of lingering fear. Like this, you only get him for glimpses. Briefest moments of commitment and intimacy. Then he vanishes again, the stars know for how long. He might have never come back if someone was to change the tiniest detail of his recent misadventure. You’re not sure if you can bear his closeness now, without begging him to stay right after. That wouldn’t be fair, would it?

No, you can't. You won't. Swallowing your own need for his affection, you finish your handiwork and swiftly press the towel to his face as he tries to lean in. He blinks, openly bemused and somewhat affronted by your mute rejection, but doesn't press. Once his face is gently wiped clean from the remainders of shaving foam, you drop the towel to the counter. 

One of your hands remains on his jaw, thumb gently stroking the softness of his freshly shaven skin. You meet his suddenly uncertain gaze with a soft, apologetic smile. 

"Another time, Ez. I don't want to hurt you."

You watch the 'but' form, the promise that you're not gonna hurt him, that he won't break. It disspates at your expression.