#leaving a boy that thought he was a spare once removed

[chisubi]

safe in your skin — s. haruchiyo

content. fem!reader, timeline 0 spoilers, unhealthy relationships, suicidal ideation, implied／references to substance abuse, unhealthy coping habits, mild sexual content, unreliable narrators

word count. 12.3k

note. the original timeline has been stuck in my head for a long time, ever since it was first mentioned. . i think it is the saddest timeline :c

despite the tags, i think this piece is quite gentle ? sanzu is very soft in this, but in his own way !!

Here lies his grave. Soon, Haruchiyo will make this his home.

The metal bar is uncomfortably hot against Haruchiyo’s hand, the feeling of blood dripping down from the way his fingernails dig more and more into his reddened palms, the moisture makes his hold on the rail loosen.

If he falls from here, he would probably die, he hopes.

Just like Shinichiro-kun, he prays.

It has been five years since Manjiro and Shinichiro have passed. Their deaths — since those cold funerals. A lump forms in his throat as the tightness in his chest refuses to loosen. The realisation that they’ll never come back to him hits him once again. It comes as a surprise to him that he’s still alive, without them — if he can even call this being alive.

If he were to let go right now, he’d die, or he’d survive and be in a coma if he’s (un)lucky. Society has no use for a useless person like him — an unwanted boy, he has been reminded of this many times before. He has no family, he’s been in and out of juvie twice already, and he has never had a legal job (no place would willingly hire someone like him, at least for legal purposes). Nobody willingly wants to be around a teenage dirtbag with an ongoing criminal record. He keeps his hands dirty just to keep surviving — for what, though? He would be doing society a nice favour if he were to remove himself from it.

Haruchiyo only wants to see the two of them again, to see the rising sun, the only remedy to relieve him of this emptiness—

“Oi, don’t even think of fuckin’ letting go.”

Oh, Baji. . .

(His prayers are not met, forever denied, just like they always have been.)

Haruchiyo lifts up his head, throwing Keisuke a spare glance. Sharp eyes noting that he doesn’t look or sound too happy. It’s obvious in the way Keisuke’s dark brows appear frowned more than usual, lips pursed with rough hands curled up into tight fists. There’s fresh blood smeared on Keisuke’s knuckles, he is bleeding, too. He must’ve gotten into a fight earlier, Haruchiyo thinks, he is quick to assume. Keisuke is always like that, he has always been.

“What the fuck is wrong with you? You never showed up to the cemetery.” Keisuke’s words are sharp, like they always have been. His tongue has never once not been sharp — cutting into places Haruchiyo doesn’t want to feel. There is a lot wrong with him, Haruchiyo knows he has problems that he doesn’t want to acknowledge or accept, but he also knows that Keisuke didn’t mean it in a literal sense (not this time at least). “I waited an hour for ya.”

“I messaged you earlier, said I was gonna be late.”

“I don’t like using my phone, you know this. You should’ve called instead. I thought you were at home shooting it up or somethin’.”

“Was that supposed to be a joke? It sucked.”

“No,” Keisuke replies. “It wasn’t one.”

It’s hard for Haruchiyo not to roll his eyes at the assumption — the accusation. Keisuke acts faster than he thinks, harshly grabbing Haruchiyo’s forearm, and he winces at the sudden movement. It will leave a bruise on his pale skin; he’s always easily bruised. He sighs, grip tightening against the bar as he hops back over — back to Keisuke's side, to the side of the living. Reaching into his sweater pockets, he notices that his handkerchief is missing.

(This fact makes him notice that the cuts from his nails sting a lot — they don’t hurt as much as the wounds he receives from street brawls, or the sparring lessons he once took as a kid, back at the Sano house, but he’s still hurting. Hopefully these light cuts don’t get infected by the rusted rails.)

“Well, that was one time,” he snaps back defensively, pulling away from Keisuke’s grip when the boy doesn’t show any sign of letting go. “Move it.” He barks.

“That’s what they all say before they get addicted and shit.”

Haruchiyo sneers, “I didn’t even do the shit you’re saying. Learn to mind your own business, Baji.” It really was the only time that he had been caught, opting to do things in the comfort of his own room, Keisuke appearing that night was unexpected.

Keisuke is too dramatic for many reasons, always feeling and acting intensely, which Haruchiyo knows is steamed from genuine worries and his gold heart, though that seems to annoy Haruchiyo even more. He has never once asked Keisuke to care about him. It’s bothersome. Gross. His stomach turns and twists in ways that make him feel physically ill. Keisuke has always been like that. (He always will, deep down, in the walls Haruchiyo doesn’t want to unlock and see, he knows this.)

Silence rains over them as the two boys stare down at the water. It’s not a pretty view. It’s murky and dark gray and dead fishes can be seen floating on top. Nothing worth stopping to see. People barely come over here now, rumours of the dead haunting this bridge scares keeps everyone away. Haruchiyo’s hand twitches as he starts to fiddle with his fingers. It’s hard for him to stay still, especially with all these thoughts running through his mind. Too many thoughts that he can’t fully process, each one comes crashing before the last could settle — most being ones he doesn’t want to hear or remember, and he only knows one way to block them out.

Keisuke stands too closely beside him, his body heat seeps through his clothing and Haruchiyo feels uncomfortable with his close presence. He kicks Haruchiyo’s loafers with his leather boots, his heart tightens and sours knowing Keisuke is reading him — his hidden and jumbled thoughts, temporarily knocking them out of his head. Keisuke reaches into his loose pockets, taking out a pack of cigarettes. It's a brand new pack — the Seven Stars brand Shinichiro would always have on hand. His favourite. Haruchiyo’s first cigarette was that brand, stealing a cigarette from a pack that Takeomi had forgotten at home, choking on the deep bittersweet smoke.

From his peripheral vision, Haruchiyo watches as Keisuke opens the package to take out a fresh cigarette and jams it in between the cracks on the ground (Keisuke thought about giving Shinichiro the entire pack, but someone would definitely steal it — cigarettes are getting more expensive these days. He still despises smoking, he really, really does. It’s disgusting and Keisuke can’t stand the taste of them, but the smell of seta makes him so nostalgic of a time that will never come again. He is a hypocrite for sneering at how Haruchiyo drowns himself in substances, when he searches for the familiar taste of Seven Stars from time to time), he lights it for him, too.

This is a tribute to their late brother.

They watch the setting sun, waiting for his cigarette to fully burn out.

—

You move away from your childhood home into a small, cheap studio in Tokyo. It is smaller than you are used to, but just enough for one person. It feels more spacious than you’ve ever known. You’ve waited a long time for this.

To escape that house and everything that suffocated you.

You take a deep breath; here you are free.

While walking up the steps carrying stacked boxes, you run into something – or rather, someone – causing one of the boxes to drop, you wince hearing something shatter inside. You pray it’s nothing of importance.

“I am so sorry—” you exclaim as you look up, freezing at the close proximity. You’re met with piercing blue eyes; eyes so void of emotion, similar to when winter arrives and frosts over the neverending sea, he keeps a locked gaze, and you almost find yourself captivated within. Almost. “Um, uh, sorry. Are you okay?” you stammer over your words, internally cringing at how lame you sound.

“No, it’s fine,” his voice is light and cold, it suits his appearance — his eyes. However, his hair reminds you of the cherry blossoms that are about to bloom this spring. “Nobody is helping you?”

“No, it’s just these boxes left. . . Oh—”

The boy bends down to pick up the box that had fallen, looking up the steps. “Which way—? Ah, you’re the one who moved in next door, right?”

You nod your head, and without any other words he brings the box and sets it down in the apartment for you. Not only is he pretty, he is also kind for helping you (—which is something most people probably would’ve done, this is nothing special). He leaves before you get the chance to thank him and you feel bad about it. You didn’t get the chance to catch his name, either. You can’t help, but feel disappointed.

You check your phone, flipping it open to see no new messages or calls, your email is empty, too. You almost sigh, it’s not like you expected your mother to call — this isn’t anything new. Your phone sits heavy in your hand.

—

You never see your neighbour around again. The door to his apartment is always opening and closing. You can hear him coming home late at night, around three or four in the morning, sometimes slamming shut which wakes you up from your needed sleep, and you can’t help but wonder what someone is doing out so late — working, perhaps, that is the most logical and obvious answer.

It’s a few days later when you bump into him on your way to your afternoon classes, or so, you think it’s him. The moment you look up it’s someone completely different.

A boy who vastly contrasts him in appearance.

With long black hair, and sharp eyes that shine gold underneath the morning sun. They’re very beautiful, warmth radiates down onto you just from looking into them. Yet something swirling in those eyes that you cannot quite pinpoint. A white bandage sits on his cheek, light bruises littered across his face that add to his intense appearance.

He says his name is Keisuke and he lives here with his friend. You assume his friend is the pretty boy from the other day.

The two of you walk down the apartment together and he talks to you the entire time before parting ways, his speech is rather brash compared to most people you know, however he seemed quite nice. There’s an air to him that feels warm and comforting. You know better than to harshly judge someone based on first appearance. And you can’t seem to forget his boyish smile that he flashed at you before walking away. It suits him and his shining golden eyes very much; he looks like the sun.

Everything gold radiates off of him.

—

Keisuke’s lip is busted once again. A matching black eye to go with. Blood runs down his temple and connects to the stream running down his mouth. However, he wins in the end, like he always does. Out of all his matches, he’s only ever lost three times.

Betting on Keisuke always means receiving extra cash, however, if he loses, they lose a lot.

Haruchiyo watches as a crowd of junkies immediately swarm Keisuke, and he sighs as he takes a swing of his drink. This always happens, and it’s a good thing because they all get hyped up to the max, and sometimes, some guys are willing to pay for dinner. He and Keisuke never say no to that.

He catches sight of someone similar amongst that crowd, and once they catch his stare within seconds, she’s pushing away from Keisuke.

You look familiar, very familiar, and Haruchiyo doesn’t understand why someone who looks so pure like you is here in this sketchy place. An underground bar where delinquents and nobodies hang out, sell drugs, and fight for quick cash. Someone like you doesn’t belong in such a dirty place. Well, Haruchiyo learned from a young age, even the most angelic of faces can appear sinister when you are no longer needed.

“Hi!” Your sudden appearance and cheerful greeting comes unexpected.

“Hi. . .?” Your smile drops almost immediately, and Sanzu doesn’t mean to look or sound unfriendly, but he doesn’t understand why you would come up to him. He hates talking to strangers.

“Oh, do you not remember me? I moved into the apartment next—”

Ah, right. “I remember you.”

A smile automatically falls back on your face. “Oh, okay. That’s good.”

He shrugs, looking around the room at nothing interesting. Where did Keisuke go? “I guess so.”

You stand next to him, taking the empty spot next to him, without a word.

When you attempt to make small talk, he lets you, barely answering, but enough to seem polite. You don’t seem to mind, continuing on speaking to him. And before he knows, he gets lost in the conversation with you, pulled down, you’re magnetic.

It all comes too unexpectedly. Haruchiyo doesn’t remember what happened.

Really, he doesn’t. And a kiss is all it takes, before everything begins to spiral, it’s a whirlwind.

Haruchiyo doesn’t know how it happened. He’s never done this before — always withering at the contact of others, never liking the way cold hands touch his skin. His lips slam against yours, it’s more of a punch than a kiss, and a small noise escapes you — something Haruchiyo recognises as not out of pleasure. He knows.

“Be—be more gentle,” you tell him when he pushes you against the cold, restroom wall.

“My bad,” he mumbles back. He, more gently, grips your forearm as another form of apology.

He can’t understand why he’s doing this, especially with someone he doesn’t know. Your hands are under his shirt, running over his stomach and his heart races. Your hands are smaller than his, softer, warmer, too. And he thinks it’s the liquor running through his veins — your veins, he can taste it when your pretty lips meet his.

He doesn’t know you. He knows you live next door and you did mention something earlier. Something about you being one of his dealers’ friend’s younger cousin. He thinks it’s something like that (and he doesn’t actually care).

Hissing at the sudden contact, biting down on his bottom lip to hold back a groan. Your hand is wrapped around him, moving up and down too slowly for his liking, so he ruts up into your hand before coming undone far too quickly, and his initial embarrassment is forgotten when you don’t say anything, you only giggle while tilting your head up to kiss him.

Shock runs through him, chills run down his spine, yet something feels too warm inside — it’s recognition, almost like it is something familiar that he’s known and lost so long ago.

It’s not long after when he has you bent over the counter, dress scrunched up to your waist, your pretty panties pushed to the side as he pushes himself into you. His movements are nearly robotic and awkward, you don’t say anything about it though, only thrusting back on him. He watches the foreign scene unfold from the mirror, his ocean eyes capturing your blissed out expression in the mirror, and his stomach flips. You feel so soft. So, so soft against him, he grips your hips harder, feeling as if his legs might give out, he leans his body over your back, pressing an awkward peck on your lips when you look up at him, lasting less than a second before he pulls his lips from your soft ones. Kissing feels awkward. It is far too intimate and you seem to crave it. Haruchiyo hates the feeling. He thrusts into you faster, chasing after his own high. It feels euphoric.

Losing his virginity in a grimy washroom – one of the last places he’s ever wanted to step foot in – is the last thing he’s expected. But now he’s here with you, a girl he only knows the name of. He doesn’t know what’s wrong with him these days. Perhaps, he’s just desperate to feel something. Forever chasing the high to feel alive once again.

—

Somehow, you are almost all he thinks about lately. Usually in the morning or late nights. He hasn’t seen you since then. Nor does he really want to. Haruchiyo doesn’t think he is the sentimental type — he’s never had anything of his own to feel sentimental about.

“Oh, you missed again, Sanzu. That little pink head of yours is in the clouds tonight, hm?” Ran Haitani is smiling to himself after witnessing his poor play. His fingers are busy chalking up his cue stick and the sound of his brother snickering makes Haruchiyo roll his eyes.

That detached and arrogant look in his eyes reminds Haruchiyo of him. Those eyes that have always looked down at him — Ran has the same look in his eyes and a matching [irritating] lazy smirk that Haruchiyo wishes to smack off of his face with the cue stick in his hand. The scene flashes dark red, beautiful and bright.

“I guess it’s our win again. As expected, right, brother?” The younger Haitani chimes in with a similar grin — one more boyish and wide. He shows more teeth than his brother, but carries the same arrogance. Sometimes, Rindō is cool to hang out with (which seems as a given from how the two of them hang out alone from time to time), but Haruchiyo usually finds him infuriating.

“That’s right, Rindō.”

“Fuck off, Haitani.”

“Hey, don’t get mad at us for your shitty plays,” Ran says as he leans against the table, still chalking his cue stick — he does this after every single shot: always making a show out of it when it’s not needed at all. “Ever heard of hating the game, not the player?”

Haruchiyo rolls his eyes for the nth time tonight, “You always have some stupid shit to say.”

“Huh?” Ran looks at him in disbelief before laughing, “don’t be a sore loser, Sanzu. I was only teasing. Loosen up.”

“That’s what I mean by stupid shit. Whatever, man.”

“Mhm, whatever you say. Let’s play another round before heading out.”

Rindō perks up, “The loser has to pay for our drinks later.”

He hates being around these two pretentious assholes, but one of his acquaintances introduced him to them. They sell good shit and give him a good deal every time so it’s hard for Haruchiyo to find another dealer as good as them. He got trapped in their web. The Haitani brothers continue to make jabs at him throughout the night whenever they catch him staring off into space. Rindō remarks it’s probably because of a girl, and despite denying it, Ran teases him about it. Whatever.

Losing his virginity to you isn’t why Haruchiyo thinks about you, it’s that he can’t get the image of you taking him so well out of his head (and the way you smiled so sweetly at him afterwards, you were kind.) The sensation he felt had his mind dizzy, a new high he’s become addicted to. It’s an obsession at this point, not with you, he clarifies to himself every time, just sex. His hand cannot replicate the hot and tight feeling of being inside of you, and that’s how he finds himself coming back to you, knocking on the door of your apartment, instead of going out to a club with the Haitani brothers.

(“You owe us, asshole.”

“I will later,” he simply says. “I’ve got stuff to do.”

Ran smirks as he elbows his brother. “Stuff,” repeats Ran as Rindō lets out a long, mocking, ‘Ah’, at the indication.

Haruchiyo doesn’t say anything anymore. This is why he never talks to them about anything personal. They’re just a bunch of annoying pricks.)

The sky is pitch black, and doe-eyes stare up at him. Stars shining within. He takes in your sleepy form, hair a mess and pajamas that don’t match. He almost smiles, he wants to.

You wait, before deciding to say, “Hi, Sanzu. . . Um, is there something you need?”

“I just, uh, I came to say hi,” he lamely makes up an excuse that neither of you buy.

“At two in the morning?” you ask teasingly, opening the door a little wider, inviting him inside. You look a little sleepy, hooded-eyes and a pretty smile looking up at him. He recognises this look (just barely) from the night before. You want to kiss him.

“Oh, yeah. . .” he dumbly replies. “Yeah, I was out, and yeah.”

He sounds stupid, he knows. You know, but you continue to smile.

You offer, “Wanna come in?”

Your hand reaches out to him — you don’t touch him, your fingers fiddle with the hem of his shirt, lightly tugging him towards you. Barely. You wait for him to move. And so, he gives you what you want. His hand falls to your waist as he stumbles inside, lips locked, kicking the door shut behind him.

—

Haruchiyo comes knocking more and more. He stays overnight, and he sits at your place without the intention of sex. He doesn’t get mad when you decide you aren’t in the mood for it, either.

You do most of the talking, he listens, and you come to learn that Haruchiyo talks a lot at times.

You think he is cute, really cute. You really like him.

—

Nothing good comes from being with a guy like Haruchiyo, you know this, you really do. You’ve met many boys like him before. Troubled, reckless, and cruel. Cold, scarred, and lonely. He is not a good guy, and the crowd he hangs around is no better. But somehow, you can’t stay away, like a moth to a flame, you are always drawn to things you shouldn’t be.

Beneath it all, he is a sweet guy. He treats you well, you think, better than most of the people you’ve met in your life. Always following you around when you go out, saying it’s dangerous for a girl to walk alone. You think he is a little overprotective, but you also know he is only looking out for you. You think Haruchiyo is sweet, really sweet.

The layout in their apartment is the same as yours. It’s a lot cleaner than you imagined for two young men living together — a recipe for disaster. However, surprisingly, it is almost spotless, despite the few pieces of clothing laying on the floor or hanging on the couch (ones you believe to belong to Keisuke).

Haruchiyo’s room is spotless, not a speck of dust in sight. You eye the old nametag on the uniform on the wall, ‘Akashi Haruchiyo’. Akashi. Sanzu. Haruchiyo. (Sanzu, Sanzu, Sanzu.) You don’t mention it, you sweep those questions away into the back of your mind, it has nothing to do with you.

A pack of cigarettes that always seems to sit on the counter, new and never used, carefully cared for as no spec of dust is seen, you can’t help but wonder why, yet you never find yourself asking. It’s a strange feeling, when you know you’re not supposed to ask or do something without being told, the boundary you cannot cross.

“When will Keisuke be home?” you ask while clicking the start button on the rice cooker.

His silence draws out longer than you are comfortable with, your lips are pursed, wondering if you had said or done something wrong. There is no way you did. You know this, however, your nerves slowly eat away at you the longer the silence draws on. You can’t stand silence like this, the only thing you can hear is his breath mixed with yours and your rapid heart. “He will be home later. Baji usually comes home late, so he won’t be here to eat with us.”

A silent breath of relief escapes you, that anxious tension vanishing from your stomach. “Oh, okay. Then, I’ll pack up the leftovers after and leave it for him to eat once he gets home.” Now that you think about it, Keisuke really is always out and about. He is definitely more outgoing than both you and Haruchiyo combined.

“Sanzu—”

“Haruchiyo,” he interrupts. “Call me Haruchiyo.”

“Okay, Haruchiyo,” you test out his name with a roll of your tongue, and he hums to himself, quite pleased with how his name spills so naturally from your lips, and you bite back a smile when you notice the expression on his face. Your face feels warm. “Where are the rest of your pots? Is this all? I think it might be too small for all three of us. . .”

“Yeah, I think that’s it. Nobody ever really uses the kitchen much. We just eat out most of the time.”

“Oh, well, let me go grab one of the pots from my apartment. Gimme a second,” you say before going to your apartment to look for a bigger pot.

Haruchiyo just watches you cook, or so you think he is, because sometimes, it looks as if he’s lost in his thoughts, even with his eyes on you.

You end up spilling personal things with him, something you have never done with anyone before. You don’t know why. Haruchiyo just listens to you in ways nobody ever has. “My dad never treated me right as a kid. I can barely remember what he looked like, not angry, sober.” He hums. “My mom, well, she is probably doing better now since we’re both gone. . .”

He asks, “Do you miss them?”

“No,” you reply a little too fast. “No, not really. Sometimes, I do think about them, though.”

It’s too complicated, you think. Your feelings get so jumbled up, and you don’t understand them most of the time.

“So, what about you, Haruchiyo?”

“What about me?”

“You know. . .” you trail off, hoping he understands what you are trying to ask (you know he knows), but he doesn’t say anything. “What is your family like? I would like to know more about you, um, if that’s alright with you.”

“There isn’t anything to know,” his curt reply is enough for you to know that he doesn’t want to talk about it, and your heart sinks in disappointment. Maybe it shows on your face, Haruchiyo is silent for a few seconds before adding, “I don’t have any family, so there’s nothing for me to tell you.”

“Oh, sorry for asking. . . I didn’t know.”

“It’s fine. Don’t feel bad about it, pretty. You were just curious about me, right?” he asks this plainly, yet there’s a tug on the corner of his lips that lets you know he is happy that you want to know more about him. You nod your head and his smile becomes more prominent, he looks so innocent when he smiles. “I am curious about you, too.”

“I know.”

“Oh, you know?”

“Mhm, I know,” you cheekily reply and even the sound of his chuckle is enough to cause your heart to race. You can’t help that you are so simple, so easy, Haruchiyo makes you so nervous, yet so seen and comfortable. “And when you ask me, I tell you.”

Haruchiyo smiles. “I know you do.”

You believe it to be inevitable, the way you often find yourself pinned underneath him. Something about him is so addicting, you keep wanting more and more. The sound of moaning and skin slapping echoes within the room, it’s obscene, and adds to the erotic scene. He’s unable to contain himself, taking you on his couch the very chance he gets to, and you just let him. You love how he makes you feel, he has you seeing stars — chasing one after another.

He stills his movements for a moment, curious eyes staring down at you; those empty eyes of his are lust-filled and all you can see in them is you. He wants you and only you. You are eager to give yourself to him, to let yourself fall into his arms, completely letting yourself be swept away. You want him, too. He definitely knows this.

“You said he treated you like shit, right?” he says this, and you stop your movements, too. “If I were—were around then, I could’ve taken care of him for you.” The implication of it has your blood turning cold and your fingers wrap around his shoulders as you push him away a little, so you can look at him more clearly.

Those words are spilled so sweetly, like the way he kisses you before he leaves your apartment, or when you wake up beside him during the late mornings to find him still there, gazing at you as if you hung the stars. His words sound so sweet, just like when he tells you about how good you make him feel, they sound so sweet, and it’s not.

You think Haruchiyo likes you. You know he does.

“Th–that’s not as romantic as you think,” you say, voice breathless as you try to steady your breathing. And he’s already dead, you don’t say it, you don’t need to.

“No?”

You shake your head.

“Haru, move. . . Please.”

Haruchiyo hums, and you demand this time, nicely, of course.

“Yeah? Fine. You are so spoiled.” Haruchiyo is quick to give into you if you beg sweetly enough — if you say you need him, and only he can make you feel this way. But he always gives in. He moves, just like you asked — he moves in and out of you painfully slowly, it’s taunting. You whine at how it misses that one spot you desperately need it, yet the pleasure he brings is still, strangely, enough all at the same time. All you can think and see is blue and white swirls, and Haruchiyo, Haruchiyo, Haruchiyo.

“Think you like that idea though, tightening ‘round me like this. Oh, shit—” he chokes on a moan, then heavily sighs.

“So perfect for me, you’re mine. Say it for me.” Strands of his light pink hair falling onto your face, it tickles from the way it brushes against your cheeks with every move. Soft like cherry blossoms. His hand slides up your wrist, placing his hand over yours, your fingers tightly interlocked. “Please, baby. Y’know I would do anything for you, right?” You nod, even though his words are barely registering through, your head feels fuzzy.

He starts slamming his hips into you, you moan loudly as he repeats it again and again, his movements becoming sloppy. You’re too sensitive, overstimulated, it’s almost painful the way he keeps himself in you — it hurts, yet a familiar pleasure builds in you all over again. “Tell me you’re mine. Mine. My girl.”

“I am yours, Haru. All yours. Want nobody, but you. . .”

The moment those words spill from your lips, Haruchiyo immediately cums between choked moans and curses, and warmth spreads inside of you. He clumsily thrusts a few more times, leaning down to close the small gap and kisses you. He smiles down at you so innocently, cheeks red, bruised lips. He asks if you are okay, and you nod, pulling him closer.

Your fingers trace over the scar above his eye, faded yet deep. He leans into your touch. You find it ridiculous how pretty Haruchiyo is. His eyelashes are thicker and longer than yours, you find it unfair. He is so beautiful, you’ve never seen someone as pretty as him before.

“Did it hurt?”

“It used to, but not anymore,” he softly sighs, “feels good when you touch me. You’re so soft and warm, it makes me feel at ease with you around.”

“Me too,” you breathe out.

You know you are falling in love with him. Even if it is something like whim, because he is the only one who listens, understands, and hasn’t abandoned you. You like Haruchiyo. You are falling deep for his pretty blue eyes and the sadness that consumes him like cocaine.

Your beautiful boy.

(He whispers that you are like an angel as you drift off to sleep.)

—

You wonder if it would be presumptuous of you to assume that you are Haruchiyo’s girlfriend. Because technically, you are. Without words exchanged, things have turned out that way, and you think it must’ve been inevitable (Keisuke always refers to you as Haruchiyo’s girl, and Haruchiyo never says anything about it). You are Haruchiyo’s. You feel like Haruchiyo is yours, too.

“Are you two fuckin’ stupid? You’re just asking to get pregnant,” Keisuke huffs while rolling his eyes.

“Keisuke!” you exclaim, hitting your hand over his mouth with a glare. “Shush, lower your voice, please,” you lower your voice, glancing around in hopes nobody had heard him. A few judgmental glances are thrown your way, and you groan, wishing to shrink away. “We’re in public. . .”

Keisuke grabs your wrist, pulling your hand off his mouth as he stares at you. His face isn’t littered with bruises and cuts these days. No white bandage to stop you from seeing everything on his face. He looks a little exhausted these days — you assume from lack of sleep.

“Sorry,” he says, immediately lowering his tone into a low whisper like you had warned him to. “Are you that stupid?” he repeats and you loudly scoff.

“That’s why I just bought the pill.”

“You also bought a pregnancy test a few weeks ago,” he retorts, and you bite your bottom lip at a loss for a comeback. You didn’t actually think you were pregnant, you were only making sure. “I am just saying, keep letting him do it raw and knock you up. Can’t even take care of yourself, so how—”

“I can,” you interrupt, “I can take care of myself.”

“Right, barely. Haruchiyo is fucked up in the head, how could you even take care of a kid?”

You glare at Keisuke. “Hey, don’t talk about Haru like that. He’s your friend.”

“Like I said, I am just trying to look out for you two. Don’t be so mad.”

Does he actually see you as someone so incapable?

Obviously, his words make you mad when you originally weren’t, he can’t keep his mouth shut sometimes, and he makes it up by buying yakisoba for you.

The three of you are barely getting by. Birds of a feather, they say. It’s a shitty life, you all know, but some moments are worth living for.

It’s not so bad when you aren’t alone.

—

“I saw Senju earlier.”

“And?”

“Nothin’. She says hi, though, asking if you’re good and stuff. She probably misses you. You should reach out to her or something.”

Haruchiyo sneers at the idiotic thought. There’s no way in hell he will ever talk to any of them again. Over his dead body — he’d rather die a million times. In the corner, he sees your head perk up at an unfamiliar name, sending the two of them a curious look.

He hopes you won’t ask, he knows you ask anyway.

“Who’s Senju? An old girlfriend?” The moment those words leave your mouth, Keisuke is making gagging noises, your eyebrows pull together as you turn your head towards him. “What’s so funny?”

“Younger sister,” Haruchiyo corrects your assumption.

“Hey, you told me you’re an only child,” you reply with a frown — a small pout to your lips. You look so adorable like this.

“That’s because she isn’t family to me.” He can feel bronze eyes burning into him. “Don’t worry about it. It’s nothing important.”

You slowly hum, not saying anything else, but Haruchiyo knows you understand him. Not wanting to step into a dark space that he doesn’t want you to know. He wonders why you’re so accepting of this – of him – even after catching him in a lie. He can tell you’re somewhat upset, too. But he knows you won’t mention it and he finds relief in that fact. Keisuke remains silent, too. His understanding is different, it’s familiar, rooted deep into their souls.

“Where did you go today, Kei?” You’re quick to change the topic and that’s one of the reasons why Haruchiyo likes being around you so much.

“I was just out with some friends,” he replies. “We went bowling, then took a ride around town.”

“Aw, bowling sounds fun.”

“You should join us next time.”

“To go bowling? I am not so good, it’s been a while since I’ve last been. Plus, I am not sure if Haru would want to go. . .”

Keisuke smugly grins, gold eyes flickering from you to him. “Yeah, but he would go anywhere you wanna go.”

“Is that true, Haru?” You turn your attention to him, and Haruchiyo shrugs.

“Maybe, it depends,” he replies, though the obvious and right answer is yes. He would do anything for you. Diving deeply into the depths of heaven and hell — wherever you want to take him. You and Keisuke both know this, because you both glance at each other and laugh, already discussing a date to go bowling.

Haruchiyo doesn’t join in on the conversation anymore, he grabs the remote in front of him and mindlessly flips through the television channels.

Keisuke has been distant lately. He is trying to change. He says he always remembers his mother crying in front of him for the first time, something he never wants to see again. Haruchiyo could never relate to this feeling, he doesn’t know what it means. He is trying to get an actual job — a normal job, like what normal people do. As if they weren’t both raised in the same shithole. Keisuke and Manjirō were the lucky ones — they always have been chosen by the stars above.

Keisuke fights in underground clubs every Friday for money, and Haruchiyo — he sells cheap cigarettes and substances to messed up kids like them. They’ve been doing this shit since they were in middle school. That has never changed for him. Haruchiyo knows he’s being left behind once again. By everyone he has ever known. Even Keisuke is moving on, to a life with people he doesn’t know and to a future he cannot see. It’s only a matter of time before you leave him, too. You are too bright, too lovely. No matter how much he digs his claws in you, it won’t be enough to keep you in place.

Even the ghost of Shinichiro doesn’t visit him anymore, and he’s left alone back at the doghouse once again.

—

Lately, he returns home to the same scene: just you and Haruchiyo cuddling up together. Stuck together like super glue.

Haruchiyo’s eyes are always a little clearer when you are around, awake, gazing at you with honey dripping from them. He’s seen that look in those sappy romance films his mom used to watch.

The image of you is captured so clearly within those crystallized eyes, trapped within. Keisuke isn’t stupid enough to not notice that Haruchiyo’s feelings for you are not normal. Society’s version of normal, anyway. Haruchiyo has always been weirdly obsessive and desperate at times; he’s seen so, with Shinichiro, Mikey, and now, you. It’s not normal, but is it so bad? Haruchiyo is beginning to breathe again in the form of you; light glimmering in his lifeless eyes when you say his name, you cover his wounds with your warmth, and love has always been a complicated thing.

Later that night, he and Haruchiyo make a run to the convenience store, and along the way home, they stop by an abandoned park and smoke a joint together — nobody ever stops by here, so there’s no worries in their hazy minds.

“I think I am in love,” Haruchiyo admits as he sucks on a strawberry popsicle. His favourites haven’t changed since they were seven.

Keisuke takes the last hit of the joint before dragging it out on the concrete. “Yeah, no shit, dude,” he replies, “everyone can see it.”

Haruchiyo grins, all teeth and wide, his eyes closed. “No, like I am fucked. So fucked, Baji.”

When he asks why, Haruchiyo is zoning out — Keisuke is buzzed as well, so it’s not like he cares. Haruchiyo is lying on the ground, head in his new leather jacket, staring long and hard at the night sky above, he isn’t here right now. He is a thousand miles away.

After, what seems like a long time (in reality, 20 minutes), he asks again. “No, but like why?”

“If she ever leaves me, I’ll kill myself.”

He says it so casually, then laughs so loudly, it sounds like he’s crying, and Keisuke ends up laughing, too. They laugh, and laugh, and laugh like it’s funny — like it’s nothing.

“No kidding. You’re fuckin’ insane.”

Settling down with deep breaths, he just confirms with a vague, “Yeah.” Pauses, then adds, “She makes me feel alive.”

Keisuke doesn’t doubt it one bit. Haruchiyo is crazy, and obsessed with you. Like a stray dog finding shelter again — you’re his sanctuary in this corner of the world. But is it so bad? Keisuke has never been one for relationships, it’s too complicated and time-consuming, but that is what love is. It’s everything worth the trouble.

Love is so strange, and it keeps them alive.

—

It’s happening again.

He’s stuck there again with no way out.

Mud is caving in on him, he’s choking, and can’t breathe or see anything. His body thrashes around, searching, searching, searching for another body. His hand reaches another — mummified. A black void consumes his entire being.

(He thinks he can hear a calling of his name — it sounds so familiar, like the warmth of his blanket from his childhood.)

When he awakens, he’s drenched in his own sweat, head pounding, electrified down to the rough pads of his fingers.

Haruchiyo downs a couple of pills.

—

You get a call from your mother. It comes unexpectedly, and you almost let it ring until the end, stunned.

Of course, you scramble to answer her call. “Hello? Mom?”

The line is staticky for a moment, and you wince. “Hi,” her voice sounds breathless. “I, um, I did not expect you to pick up.”

“Oh, yeah. . .” You don’t know what to say, but your heart is racing unbelievably fast. You have so much to say, but you can’t form any of them into words.

It is awkward, painfully so. It is the entire call, but you both try to talk, stumbling over each other when silence hits for a little too long.

She is doing well, much better than when you left, and you are glad. You think you are doing better than before, too. She mentions that she met a new man — one kind, one who treats her well, and works at a bank. Her last man was a piece of shit, somehow as bad as the first, he made your miserable lives even worse, and was in it for far too long.

She says she would like it if she could see you, and maybe you can meet him, and you choke. Getting introduced to someone new is too sudden, seeing her again is too soon, and what if she didn’t love him? Or if he doesn’t love her. He could be like the last one. A phony. She doesn’t know, you wouldn’t know. You think you are overreacting, you know you are, but you aren’t sure how you’re supposed to feel.

“No,” your voice is too quiet as you try to control the shakiness of your voice. “Not yet, but soon.”

“Okay. I do not want to force you, nor does he. Take all the time you need.”

“Thank you.”

“This isn’t something you need to thank me for.”

You almost cry for some reason.

Before the call ends, she tells you she would like to call you again; you say okay.

—

Sometimes, Haruchiyo doesn’t like to see you. You understand, and try to respect his space.

Every time he needs his space, he comes back seemingly happier, and he always takes you out despite hating being outdoors around strangers for so long. You learn he is very good at bowling, the two of you beat Keisuke and his other friends quite easily, despite the blond one mentioning he was a professional bowler earlier on (Haruchiyo whispered in your ear that he was definitely lying).

At the arcade, he wins you a giant plushie from an old cartoon, and he tells the others to win their own when they start asking him for one. With his remaining tickets, he trades them in for a ring pop – strawberry, your favourite – and slides it onto your ring finger with a cheeky smile, there’s red coating his cheeks. You mirror his smile, and drag him into a dark empty corner to kiss him. His hand is immediately sliding underneath your shirt.

“Haru, we’re in public,” you warn him as you break the kiss to lightly glare at him to behave.

“It’s fine, it’s only a kiss,” he replies, pulling you back in to deepen it. You melt into it.

Sometimes, Haruchiyo doesn’t like to see you. Especially, when he is high, he doesn’t like when you’re around.

One time, he’s collapsed onto his bed, he mumbles that he wants to see you, despite you being right there.

You can’t help, but worry.

Sometimes, Haruchiyo doesn’t like to see you. He gets so busy with things, and Keisuke says he doesn’t know — but you both know what he is up to. Sometimes, he doesn’t talk to anyone for two days. He stays trapped in the walls of his bedroom, or in places nobody knows of. This behaviour grows more and more frequent as the weeks go by.

Haruchiyo comes to see you, he always comes back to you. He says he wants to rent out a dvd to watch with you, and you bury your head into his chest, and cry.

He frantically asks what’s wrong, ever so weak to your tears. His hand rubs gentle circles on your back as he cradles you closely. “Talk to me, baby,” he coos.

(It’s hypocritical, you think.)

“I miss you,” you tell him.

He chuckles. “But I am here with you.” For now.

For now, for now, for how long?

—

Haruchiyo is falling.

He’s slowly falling down, down, down.

You force your eyes open every time you watch as he is drowning down those little white pills a little too fast, crushing them into powdered stardust, chasing after a star that has been long gone — he will never reach it. Not now, not in another lifetime.

You wish you knew what it was; the very thing Haruchiyo desperately needs to see — that very thing he can’t think of long enough before he drowns himself into something (anything) once again. In a strange way, you think you know. It comes in the form of the cigarette pack that sits awkwardly on the corner of the coffee table, unused and gathering dust (you’ve seen Haruchiyo smoke the same brand during the late nights when he thinks you are asleep, bitterness as he awakens with dread, and a similar scent lingers on Keisuke’s collar, too), to the unspoken sadness that chains them together, that same distant look that is reflected in their eyes from time to time.

It’s too much, too fast, Haruchiyo will slip through the gaps of your fingers if he doesn’t slow down.

You watch as he spills and arranges the substance into a straight, thin line. Your presence gone unnoticed, except for the intensity of your stare, which he finally (finally, finally, finally) notices you and his open door that he rarely ever forgets to close.

“Leave me alone for a moment.” He nods his head toward the door, yet you don’t move.

“Haru, you already did it earlier, isn’t this too much in one day?”

“It’s not—baby, just leave me alone for a minute. Please.”

You know how Haruchiyo is. He doesn’t like anyone seeing him like this, before, during, or afterwards — his one minute means four hours.

When you call his name, he snaps. That wild dog from the apartment above begins to bark, vibrating through the thin walls of the apartment. The owner screaming for it to shut up. He lets out a slow exhale, standing up, “God, why is it always the same thing with you these days? I ask you nicely and—and you don’t listen to me.”

“Same thing with me? I am just checking up on you because I care—”

“I never asked you for that. I didn’t. . . I’ve told you before not to act like that.” What makes it hurt is how Haruchiyo tries to keep his voice light and soft like he always does with you. His jaw is clenched, and pauses every few seconds to take a breath. He gets agitated far too fast. He cares too much about treating you gently, but he doesn’t even realise he’s being mean; uncaring about what you have to say, uncaring of your feelings, he doesn’t care that you just care about him.

Your eyes are stinging. You bite down on your bottom lip, harshly, trying to keep your tears at bay. “You’re being mean. You don’t have to say it like that, I mean well.”

“I wouldn’t if you just minded your own business.”

You don’t think you will ever get through to him. Even if you kneeled down, and begged him like a dog to stop, he wouldn’t understand. You sniffle, body betraying you as tears are edging to fall, you don’t want him to see you like this — you don’t want to see him like this.

Haruchiyo deeply sighs, stepping closer to you, he gently grabs your forearm. You think it would be a comforting gesture, if it weren’t for the fact that he deliberately steps into your space to make you step back, one step closer to being out the door. He wants you gone. “It’s nothing new. Gimme a moment to myself.”

“You want me to leave.”

“Yes.” He doesn’t look at you when he says this. That stupid little white baggie has his attention — his complete attention the moment he gets you out of here. Not living, not dead, no interest in his life.

You taste iron in your mouth. “You want me to leave,” you repeat, exaggerating every word with a crack of your voice.

Haruchiyo yells this time, his patience has always run thin. “Yes! That’s what I keep fucking telling you.” He quickly shuts his mouth and runs his hand over it, swallowing his regret. A tear rolling down your face is enough for him to sigh, he hates when you cry (not when it’s not out of pleasure), he hates arguing with you, and he mutters that he’s done.

He doesn’t push you out. He doesn’t comfort you. He doesn’t close the fucking door.

He walks back to his table, sitting down, rearranging the powder — he doesn’t care. He wants you to watch.

You bitterly tell him you’re done with this, screaming that you don’t care anymore, you’re done, done, done. You don’t even look to see if he lifted his head to look at you when you shouted those words, or if his nose was glued to the table instead. You rush out without closing his bedroom door; you slam their front door shut, it echoes in the apartment’s empty hallway.

A sob echoes with it.

Haruchiyo doesn’t come knocking on your door after. You don’t seek him out, either. A fight between the two of you has never occurred before, not like this, only annoyed remarks exchanged that were resolved by sweets and kisses. Days pass without any contact, you leave your apartment at different times, and you wonder if it is over now — all over a stupid, little fight.

—

With midterms rolling around, you don’t have time to focus on Haruchiyo, your relationship — the remaining ashes of it. You don’t know, you don’t want to know, you’re afraid to know. Your grades have gone down, and you need to focus on getting them back up. On some days, Keisuke attempts to mention Haruchiyo; sometimes, you get mad, sometimes, you grow silent and shake your head, and on other days, you’ll cry at the mere mention of him.

Haruchiyo’s birthday passes without you ever knowing. You hear it from Keisuke when he lets you ride behind him on his motorcycle to your part-time job at an old dvd rental from the 80’s. These past few days, he has been picking you up once you’re done, too. He is kind, so sweet, but you know Keisuke is mostly doing this because he cares too much (and he is worried about Haruchiyo more so than you).

You lie, and say you don’t care that Haruchiyo’s birthday passed, who cares about his stupid birthday? And there’s a shock that runs through you when you realise that you never even knew his birthday — he couldn’t even tell you a simple, little detail like that. Either way, you refuse to swallow down your pride, not this time. If Haruchiyo cared about you, even a smidge, he would’ve come knocking on your door after you left or called. But he hasn’t done that, he’s done nothing for weeks. Keisuke laughs, louder than his roaring engine, and tells you it’s fine, because Haruchiyo has never once celebrated his birthday since way back then, he doesn’t believe or see joy in such things anymore. Your heart aches, and suddenly, for a split moment, your resolve vanishes.

(Always too weak when it comes to him. . . your poor, beautiful boy.)

He drops you off in front of the store — looking ever-so empty inside, nothing new. His heavy hand ruffles your hair, you glare at him, swatting his hand away. “Stop, you are going to ruin my hair,” you complain with a pout.

“Don’t think so much about it. It’ll be fine.”

(It’s fine, it’s fine, everything will be okay.)

Before he drives off, he says, “I’ll pick you up later. See you.”

Your co-worker comes up to you during your shift. He’s a sloppy guy around your age that you’ve spoken less than ten words to. You glance down to his nametag, Takemichi, then to his unkempt black hair, and faded acne scars adorning his cheek. The smile he gives you is both awkward, yet strangely warm. When he asks if you are alright, you just stare at him in confusion.

“Oh, sorry—I, uh,” he begins fumbling over his words, and you sort of feel bad at how put off you are. “You don’t look too well, so I thought, uh, that you are sick or something. . .”

You force a smile, trying to ease his nerves. “I just haven’t been getting much sleep.” It is not a lie, so you don’t feel guilty. “Sorry for worrying you.”

He apologises, too.

So, apologises come easy for some guys. All the ones you’ve known never do.

You wonder if your sorrow is that noticeable — if you are someone so pitiful. It feels worse knowing that it is apparent to people who don’t even know you, and you feel more pathetic than usual.

Life goes on, as it always does. Painfully slow. Days turning into weeks. The seemingly never-ending gray skies, and smoke clouds greet your every wake.

—

Your mother calls again this evening. She calls more often now, and these calls last longer every time you talk, despite the awkwardness that still surrounds the phone calls. The familiarity of her voice is enough to ease you, it’s almost comforting, being forced back to a time when it was only the two of you at home. Just you and her, forcing laughter and smiles, but you were truly happy during those moments, until the familiar creaking of the old wooden stairs and heavy footsteps shattered the rosy glass once again.

The screams take over.

Your mother is a curious woman, very curious. She remembers everything you mentioned, even briefly, even things from when you were only five. She asks you about the boy you told her about before (all shy and giggly), and your nails dig into your palms, eyes darting around your bedroom. From the floor, to the pile of worn clothes in the corner, and an old music box your father had gifted you on your fourth birthday — music doesn’t play from it anymore. The pink ballerina had broken off when you had dropped it, and you super-glued together again. It doesn’t play music anymore, you don’t know why you kept it. It doesn’t play music anymore, you don’t know why you keep it on the nightstand next to your bed.

You tell her you aren’t so sure anymore.

(Your head is spinning.)

“I am sorry, dear. Boys come and go. It is always like that while growing up, but one day, the right one will be there for you,” she says gently, so softly, cradling your wounds. Yet, you wonder why you don’t feel comforted at all. “You are still young and beautiful. Don’t you worry so much.”

You simply agree, “Yeah, I guess that is true.”

When the call ends, you wind up the music box for the first time in years. No sound comes through for a second, and then the first few notes play before going silent — she dances in silence, spinning around and around and around. You watch her dance in the silent echo of your room for a long time, rewinding her before she completely comes to a stop every time.

The memories go round and round.

—

Keisuke basically forces himself into your apartment without an invite, and says, “Wow. You look like shit—I mean, bad. You don’t look good.”

He doesn’t mean it in a bad way, he is just honest with his friends. You don’t look so hot, and he has to let you know.

“Gee, thanks,” you sarcastically reply as you force your head into your textbooks.

So, you ignore him when he speaks sometimes. Keisuke has learned not to mention Haruchiyo to you, especially to how badly you reacted last time, even now the words are threatening to spill from the tip of his tongue. He tries his best not to. (God, you both are so difficult. He thinks he is going insane.)

After a while of making himself at home, he asks, “Wanna go out somewhere with me?”

You glance up from your textbook, asking, “Where to?”

“Come, I’ll show you.”

And without hesitation, you follow him out the house.

So, maybe setting cars on fire and smashing windows with brinks would be a little too much for you. He assumes you wouldn’t want to run from the cops, even if that is a part of the fun. Luckily, his buddy, Kazutora, showed him a spot where they can legally smash things to pieces — not exactly the same thrill, but it’s probably fun, and surely, you would enjoy it.

And you do. You smash everything in that little room and almost trip over yourself a few times while at it.

Keisuke finds it pretty fun, too.

—

After many rejections, it’s considered a miracle when Keisuke gets accepted and passes an interview. It’s been. . . a long time since he got fired from his first actual [legal] job. Honestly, Keisuke still believes he wasn’t at any fault, because what asshole throws a cigarette out at a gas station, right beside the gasoline tanks? That asshole was asking for a beating, and Keisuke only hit the man once. He saved the place from blowing up, if anything, he deserved some reward money. Instead, he gets fired by the lousy, old, ugly manager who sneered that it was only natural that a kid like him couldn’t handle a job.

He said he was lucky the cops weren’t called.

He was the lucky one considering how Keisuke didn’t sock his crooked teeth right out of his mouth right then and there.

(That old prick will get what’s coming for him, Keisuke hasn’t once forgotten his face.)

He knows he needs to start doing something with himself, because once he does, he’s going to make things right with his mom again. Though, it might end up ending the same way as they have been for the past few years. They’re closer compared to most single moms and their sons, Keisuke thinks, and he knows it’s hard raising him — it’s never been easy, because he doesn’t listen. He picks fights, he stopped attending school when he was fourteen, he stays out until the sun comes out, but he tries, he really does. Over the years, her disappointment and frustration builds on her face and it’s enough to make him burn and scream, leaving the room so he can no longer see that look on her face.

He vividly remembers that night, all too well, when he came home to apologise for his behaviour with his mother’s favourite flowers – marigolds like her eyes – and her favourite dumplings that he heard his pops’ used to buy for her when they were younger. Yet before he could say anything, he hears her sobbing through the door, and Keisuke makes a run down the stairs of the apartment complex. He runs, runs, and runs until he’s out of breath.

(Haruchiyo opens the door for him. He’s done so every single time without question, but those eyes of his never leave him — eyes are cold as they silently interrogate him, leaving his insides bare, chills run over him.)

He’ll make things right with her again. She’s his only mom, and he misses her.

Lately, he comes home to Haruchiyo looking like this. Fucked up with dilated eyes, winter freezes over him, hazy and lost like Janurary’s storm. Killing his own mind – himself – for even a few hours with a sense of peace. It’s all pure white laced with a gold rush; a feeling so divine that Keisuke knows he can’t save him.

Haruchiyo is drowning.

But that doesn’t mean he won’t try. Who else would if he doesn’t? (His mind drifts back to you.)

Keisuke takes a deep breath as he marches over to his limp figure on the couch. “Again. You are like this again, Haruchiyo. You need to slow the fuck down.” His words sound too familiar. (“Keisuke, I’ve told you this how many times now?”) Grabbing him by his shoulders, he shakes him, “Oi, Sanzu, wake up.”

He shakes him again. Roughly.

Haruchiyo groans slowly. “I hear you, Shin—” His heart drops at the name, at the ugly and pitiful sight of Haruchiyo. “—Keisuke, very, very clearly. . .” His words are spoken slowly and slurred, and his eyes are wide open, yet unfocused on anything. Ugly and pitiful, his dear friend.

“I am being serious, Haruchiyo. Listen up.” Keisuke inhales sharply, attempting to ease his nerves. He counts to three in his head, twice — something he had learned from a doctor when he broke his arm as a kid. One, two, three. In and out. “What about your girl?” This catches Haruchiyo’s attention, so Keisuke continues speaking, “You know she doesn’t like this right? She just can’t say it ‘cause. . . Like, you heard about her old man right? He fucked up and then. . .” And he can tell his words are falling on deaf ears, it’s pointless, yet he continues to try to reach out to him.

Truthfully, Keisuke would rather be talking to you about this. But every time he mentions Haruchiyo’s name, you get mad at him like he was the one who did something to you. He doesn’t know the exact details of what went down between the two of you; neither of you wanting to say anything, not even blaming each other, just saying vague words. It just adds to his annoyance, because it was obviously some dumb mistake, and if you two were normal and knew how to talk, it would all be good again.

“Say something.” Silence. “Haruchiyo.” More silence. Keisuke grits his teeth, the tip of his fang scrapes against his bottom lip. “Why are you like this? We’re just worried about you,” his voice comes out quieter this time, choking on tenderness, and he hates how he sounds at the moment.

“I know,” says Haruchiyo eventually. “I fucked up. ‘m fucked up. . . And I—I just don’t know how to make it go away.”

“Just cut out the bullshit,” Keisuke replies. He expects Haruchiyo to punch or kick him, to push him away and to fuck off — to call him a busybody, a good-for-nothing loser who failed junior high, a screw up who is just like him — he usually does in moments like these. However, he doesn’t.

“. . . I know.”

“Do something about this. Talk to her.”

“I know, Baji.”

“Okay.”

Keisuke frowns. He can't even laugh or snort or joke about how pathetic this is. His heart is aching at Haruchiyo’s vulnerability — a side he’s only seen when they were little kids, back when they lost Mikey and Shinichiro. Something about it is different this time, and he can’t pinpoint the reason. He just settles on awkwardly wrapping an arm around the taller, yet thinner and frail body beside him, and attempts to keep him grounded as his mind floats far, far away.

There has never been any use in catching him; he’s always known how to run and slip away.

He says, “It’ll be fine. Trust me. We’ll be fine, just like we always are.”

He whispers those words again for good measure, unsure if those words were meant for Haruchiyo or himself. Keisuke almost promises, and Haruchiyo doesn’t respond for another two hours.

—

A constant banging wakes you from your afternoon nap on your only day off from both work and university (you finished all your assignments early, too), and you angrily drag yourself out of bed, still half-asleep. Opening the door, you answer, “What—” and all that annoyance vanishes once your eyes adjust to the sudden brightness and see who it is. “Oh.”

You almost bitterly spit out, “Why are you here?”, but your heart betrays you, racing at Haruchiyo’s sudden appearance, then slows to a pace that aches your very core. All at the mere sight of him.

Before you can slam the door shut, he sticks out his foot and jams it in between, forcing the door to stay open. “Stop—don’t, don’t do that, alright? Don’t be like that, and let me in,” Haruchiyo says, his voice rough and tired. “Let me inside, please, baby. You need to listen to me, please.”

You bite your bottom lip at his pleading and keep yourself pushed up against the door, not looking into the large gap, you can’t meet his eyes or face or him. You end up asking, “Why are you here?” Your voice comes out small, you’re tired, so damn tired — body no longer pushing against the door, and Haruchiyo is swift when taking that moment of hesitation to let himself inside before you had the chance to change your mind.

He takes a step towards you, and you don’t move. He gets close to the point the skin of his hand brushes against you. His body’s cold. “I just wanted to apologise,” he tells you. “I didn’t mean it, any of it. I just—sometimes, I lose control over myself and do dumb shit.”

When you don't reply, he repeats, “I said I was sorry—still am. I didn’t mean any of it that day.”

You breathe out, “I know, I heard you. . . Your apology sucked, it was really, really bad.” Haruchiyo nibbles on his bottom lip, teeth running over dry, peeling, red skin; blue eyes wavering, yet never leaving your face (you still won’t meet his anxious gaze). “But I know you mean it. . . That doesn’t mean I am still not upset or hurt by what you said.”

He visibly eases, shoulders dropping with a silent breath of relief, and he apologises once more.

“I am scared to lose you, Haruchiyo,” you admit, it’s nothing new, but you have to tell him. “I keep thinking, what if something happens, and—like what would I do if you. . .” your words trail off shakily and you swallow the lump growing in your throat. You don’t want to curse the thought to life. Haruchiyo sneers, loudly and sharply, at your unsaid words, they don’t pass him by.

“It doesn’t matter,” it sounds too rough, too soulless, too regardless when he says this. “I mean, it won’t happen.”

You firmly argue, “But it could, Haru.”

“But it won’t. Believe me.” He grabs your hand and places it in his as he gives it a firm squeeze. “I, uh,” he sucks in a shaky breath before speaking, “I want to be better for you. You’d be happy, right? Like we could. . . Yeah, I could try for you.”

He would like to, he means. And you know he would, all to keep you happy. But you can’t teach an old dog new tricks. However, you and Haruchiyo are barely nineteen, barely adults, bad with words and love, but the feelings you have for each other are real, and so overwhelming. If you both try, everything will be alright — Haruchiyo believes this, and you do, too.

“How you live is up to you, but we can figure things out together,” you say to him. His thumb brushes over the skin on your hand. “Please, just let me be here for you. I care about you so, so, so much, Haru. Don’t push me away. I don’t want to leave you.”

“I won’t.” As you smile, he does, too. “I care about you, too, y’know? It drives me insane.”

You know, and he knows that you know.

You pull him towards the couch to sit down and talk, the atmosphere much more relaxing now. “You never called me.”

“I wanted to,” he admits, his hand falling onto your knee as he rubs it unconsciously. “But I didn’t think you wanted to hear from me.”

You shake your head, placing your hand on top of his. “No, I was waiting for you.”

He smiles, a little sad, and you can’t help but notice that he seemed to lose some weight. This worries you as he is already thin. Both your hands reach up to cup his cheeks, sunken and bones, as you pull his face closer to yours and you press a kiss to his lips for only a second. “Have you eaten yet? I still have leftovers from last night that I can reheat.”

There’s not really much left, probably only five bites at most, but it’s still something.

“No, I already ate,” he declines with a lie, but you let it pass. “Let’s just take a bath instead. Yeah?”

“Yeah, okay. Let’s do that.”

Haruchiyo runs the bath like he always does, the temperature is always just right when he does it. When you slide into the bath, a soft moan escapes your lips at the warm contact. Haruchiyo takes off his clothes, gets in, and settles behind you. He pulls you into him, back against his chest, arms wrapping around your waist to keep you close.

You lift your head to look up, and Haruchiyo’s face is expressionless, but the look swimming in his eyes is undeniably love. It couldn’t be anything else.

“What is it?”

“I really meant what I said before, y’know. Most of the time, I—I just don’t feel like my own person,” he continues quietly, “I never wanted to make you cry.”

You twist, barely, due to the lack of space in the tub, and get a better look at him. Pink strands all over his face, you brush it away with your hand, tucking a strand behind his ear. The ocean stares back at you.

You snap yourself out of it, before you get lost. “It’s okay, Haru, really.”

He says your name, so softly, such a gentle sound — your soul is weeping. “You are the only thing that is precious to me, I need you, okay? I can’t live without you.”

Your head is swimming; if your apartment had a shower instead of a bathtub like your old place did, you would’ve been unsteady on your feet. The feeling intensifies the longer you stare at him — drifting off to sea.

You tell him, “I am sorry, too. I just worry about you, Haru. I don’t want to be alone.”

“I know, and I am right here with you, baby,” he gently says (his promise of devotion, no other deserving of his worship). “And I am all yours. Only you.”

A silent ‘forever’ follows after his gentle kiss to your temple. His arms wrap around you, his bones digging into your gut, and you lift your head to kiss his cheek, then one over the faded pink scar running across his eye, then another to his soft pink lips. Haruchiyo is beautiful, everything about him is so beautifully blue.

“So, you forgive me, right?”

His hand taps your thigh, twice, a silent indication between the two of you meaning: open up. “Yes,” you breathe out. You let him in, you always do.

“Good,” he says as his other hand runs across your stomach, up to your breast, and he gently squeezes. His lips brush against your ear, his breath tickles, you can’t help, but smile. “We are in love, baby. No matter what happens, it won’t change a thing between us.”

You can’t imagine a life without Haruchiyo, or what it was like before him. You don’t want to. And so, you tell him just so. He pulls you impossibly closer as his head falls into the crook of your neck, smiling into your skin as he presses a delicate kiss — as soft as a cherry blossom petal passing you by. You love him, you love him so much. Even when he is about to fall, you will be there to catch him. Whispering this sweet oath on repeat, Haruchiyo receives each eternal promise with his lips.

—

Somewhere, he is drowning.

Sinking down, down, down to a place no man can reach. Water turns to mud, white static fills his ears, gasoline and cigarettes sting his eyes and nose; he returns home.

Somewhere, he is drowning.

But not here. You are his anchor.

[charlunday]

here have a bridgerton au

[boogiewoogieweeb]

#he's good at his job! #crozier likes him! crozier chose him! #and any enabling of crozier happens because he lives and works in one of the most strictly hierarchical systems to ever exist #where dissidence can be a hanging offence! #and he's so! fucking! angry! about it #also having to deal with a spirit bear on top of everything #that makes you question the very fabric of the assumptions you once had about the world #also his cabin door is stuck!! #we talk a lot about jopson finally snapping and beginning to bite and kick #i really think he should invite edward to the inevitable breakdown - @maedhrus

listen i don't think edward little was actually a bad first lieutenant. when we see him in the first episode he's calm and confident. he does not say much but he's amiable enough. crozier likes him, and i don't think crozier would like anyone he doesn't think capable in some way. generally he's dependable and knows what he's doing. however unfortunately for edward he has these qualities because he has a major case of eldest daughter syndrome, which means he both wants to please his mum (crozier) and has an overdeveloped sense of responsibility for his younger siblings (crew), so when they get stuck in the ice and crozier starts going (more) alcoholic, he enables his mum bc he doesn't want to disappoint her even if he doesn't agree with her, and he has to pick up the tasks and care for his siblings she's not doing, but he can't let his siblings know about their mum's situation because they'll get worried and restless. and like a true eldest daughter he has to bear the brunt of mummy's anger for being a disappointment but he also doesn't want to seek refuge with the man she divorced (fitzjames) because that feels like a betrayal. also while this is going on there is a giant bear who hunts his siblings for sport so they're dying left and right and also a changeling master manipulator who's making his siblings mad at their mum and who wants to fuck said mum before eating her like some sort of praying mantis. anyway i think i would start being miserable and anxious too.

[pucksandpower]

Puppy Love

Charles Leclerc x Reader

Summary: you’re definitely not jealous of the tiny sausage dog who seems to take up every second of your boyfriend’s attention … but it sure feels nice when Leo decides he’s a mama’s boy and Charles gets a taste of his own medicine

You stroll into the spacious living room, eyes narrowing as you spot Charles sitting on the couch, a tiny dachshund puppy curled up contentedly on his lap. “Charles … what is that?”

He looks up with a sheepish grin. “Surprise! Meet Leo, our new puppy.”

You shake your head slowly. “Our puppy? I don’t recall agreeing to get a dog.”

Charles scratches Leo’s velvety ears, eliciting a blissful tail thump. “I know, I know. But look how cute he is! I couldn’t resist.”

Crossing your arms, you try your best to seem stern despite the puppy’s heart-melting adorableness. “We haven’t even discussed this. A dog is a huge responsibility.”

“I’ve thought it through,” Charles insists. “Leo is the perfect breed for our lifestyle — small, low maintenance, and they make amazing companions.” He holds the drowsy pup up with a beseeching expression. “How can you say no to this face?”

You bite your lip, wavering. The puppy really is criminally cute with his soulful eyes and ridiculously long body. “Well … I suppose we could give it a trial run,” you concede. “But you’re taking care of him.”

Charles beams. “Deal! You’ll fall in love, I promise.” He sets Leo back on his lap, rubbing the puppy’s belly. “Who’s the best boy? You are!”

Watching them bond, a prickle of jealousy stirs in your chest. Is this what you signed up for — playing second fiddle to a canine?

Over the following days, Charles is utterly smitten, devoting every spare moment to Leo. He takes the pup everywhere, cooing over him incessantly and showering him with treats and toys. Meanwhile, you often find yourself … ignored.

“Charles? Are you listening?” You frown as he doesn’t respond, too busy dangling a chew rope just out of Leo’s reach in a teasing game.

You huff out a sigh. “I guess I’ll just make dinner for one then.”

Finally, he glances up with a distracted, “Hmm? Sorry, what was that?”

Throwing up your hands, you stalk into the kitchen, simmering with a childish sense of being replaced in your boyfriend’s affections. Stupid dog ...

A few nights later, you’re getting ready for bed when Charles appears in the doorway, Leo tucked under one arm like a furry purse. “Hey, I need to run out for a bit. Can you keep an eye on Leo?”

“What? Why?” You pause in the middle of removing your makeup.

Charles grimaces. “ I … may have waited until the last minute to get his puppy pads and food refilled.”

You groan. “Fine, I’ll watch him. But just this once!”

“You’re the best, thank you!” Charles drops a kiss on your cheek before setting Leo down with a stern, “Be good for your maman, okay?”

He dashes out, leaving you staring at the puppy sitting innocently in the middle of the bedroom floor. Leo blinks up at you, tiny tail wagging.

For a long stretch, you simply regard each other in silence. Then, hesitantly, you sink down to sit cross-legged. “Well? What am I supposed to do with you?”

Leo waddles over, sniffing at your knee before clambering into your lap with surprising determination for such a little guy. You tense, unsure what to do as he turns in a few circles and settles with a contented sigh, warm weight pressing against you.

Huh … he’s actually kind of cuddly.

Tentatively patting his silky fur, you admit, “I can see why Charles likes you so much.”

Leo’s only response is a sleepy snuffle, lashes fluttering shut. Despite yourself, you can’t resist smiling at how peaceful he looks, tiny paws twitching as he dreams. Maybe this dog thing won’t be so bad.

That notion lasts until Leo startles awake with a high-pitched yelp, legs scrambling as he leaps off your lap and takes off running. “Leo? Leo!” You give chase, wincing as his claws skitter across the hardwood in his panic.

Finally, you catch up to him quivering under the living room sofa. “Oh no, it’s okay!” You stretch out on the floor, clicking your tongue soothingly. “Come here, little guy. I’ve got you.”

Leo whimpers, but after a few tense minutes of coaxing, he creeps out just enough for you to scoop him up. You settle back against the couch with him bundled in your arms, murmuring reassurances as he trembles.

“Shhh, you’re safe … good boy ...” You press a tender kiss between his floppy ears, stroking him until his quaking fades to contented wriggles. As your apprehension melts away, a fierce protectiveness blossoms in your chest. This precious little soul is yours to care for now.

When Charles returns, he pauses in the hallway, tilting his head quizzically at the sight of you reclined on the sofa with Leo completely passed out on your stomach. “Having fun over there?”

You glance down at the slumbering puppy with a soft smile. “Actually … yeah. I think Leo and I are going to be just fine.”

A delighted grin spreads across Charles’s face. “I knew you two would hit it off!”

Over the ensuing weeks, you find yourself increasingly enamored with your four-legged child. Leo shadows your every step, bouncing around underfoot until you inevitably scoop him up to snuggle close. You start pushing all the throw pillows together to create a special nest for him on the couch. Charles teases that you’re getting a little carried away with spoiling the pup rotten.

“Oh, hush,” you retort without any real bite, nuzzling Leo’s plush cheek. “My baby deserves nothing but the best, isn’t that right?”

“Baby?” Charles arches an amused brow. “I think someone’s going overboard.”

You stick out your tongue, cuddling Leo closer with a playful glare. “Don’t listen to your papa. He’s just jealous of our bond.”

“Hey, I’m not the one treating him like a literal infant!” Charles laughs, reaching over to ruffle Leo’s ears. But the puppy twists away with a protesting whine, burying his face against your neck.

Charles pauses, brow furrowing in a brief flicker of hurt. You think nothing of it until the same thing happens again at dinner … and on your evening walk around the block … and at bedtime when Leo kicks up a fuss about sleeping in his own bed instead of yours.

“Leo, come on!” Charles groans in frustration when the puppy darts under the dresser instead of coming to him. “What’s with you lately?”

He shoots you an aggrieved look, ruffling a hand through his tousled waves. “Ever since you started carrying him everywhere, he won’t leave your side. You’ve turned my own dog against me!”

You shrug innocently, scratching behind Leo’s silky ear when he peeks out to flash you an adoring gaze. “I can’t help it if he knows who his favorite parent is.”

“Favorite parent?” Charles splutters. “That’s my dog you’re talking about!”

You gasp in mock offense, gathering Leo up to press a loud smacker against his fuzzy head. “Don’t listen to him, baby! Papa’s just grumpy because I’m better at cuddles.”

Charles narrows his eyes at the giggling puppy now practically swimming in your embrace. “Is that so? We’ll see about that.”

He swoops in to snatch Leo away, cradling the squirming pup against his chest. “Who’s the favorite, huh? I’m the one who picked you out, you little traitor.”

But Leo simply strains back towards you, pawing at Charles’ arm with distressed whimpers until you take him back. He immediately settles with a contented sigh, licking your chin gloatingly as Charles gapes.

“Oh, that is war ...” Your boyfriend mutters, stalking away with hunched shoulders.

You blink after him in confusion before shrugging it off in favor of cooing over the dachshund. “Did mean old Papa try to take you from Mama? Don’t worry, sweetie, I won’t let him.”

From that point on, a constant battle for Leo’s affections rages between you and Charles. He’ll try enticing the puppy with treats or toys, only for Leo to bypass them entirely in favor of your open arms. You can’t help but preen victoriously every time Leo cuddles into your embrace with a sigh of pure bliss.

“You’ve turned him against me!” Charles bemoans one evening as Leo dozes contentedly on your lap, stubbornly ignoring the tennis ball being waved enticingly in front of his nose. “What’s a guy got to do to get some puppy love around here?”

You smirk, idly stroking Leo’s velvety ears. “Guess he just prefers spending time with his one true love.”

“Yeah, yeah ...” Charles grumbles, but you catch the fond curl of his lips as he watches you fawning over the pup. He flops down beside you with a theatrical groan. “Unbelievable. Replaced in my own home by a hairy sausage.”

You gasp in mock outrage. “Don’t call my baby such things!” Scooping up Leo, you pepper his fuzzy face with smooches until he squirms happily. “Did you hear what Papa said about you? He’s just jealous!”

“I am not jealous!” Charles protests, even as his gaze tracks the gentle way you cradle the puppy. There’s a wistful edge to his voice when he murmurs, “Remember when you used to look at me like that?”

You pause, registering the plaintive note. Slowly, you shift Leo into the crook of one arm so you can reach out and cup Charles’ cheek with your free hand, thumb stroking over his cheekbone. “Aww, my poor baby,” you tease gently. “Don’t worry — there’s enough love to go around for both of you.”

Charles leans into your touch with a huff, darting eyes betraying how much he misses your undivided attention. “I’m starting to doubt that.”

“Well then, let me remind you ...” You lean in until your lips are a hair’s breadth from his, holding his gaze as you murmur, “I happen to have the world’s biggest, most annoyingly persistent crush on this one race car driver.”

A shiver ripples through Charles, his breath catching. Before he can respond, you close the scant distance in a searing kiss, lips molding hot and desperate as you pour every ounce of adoration into the embrace. Leo gives a disgruntled squeak at being squished between your bodies, quickly wriggling free to skitter off with an offended sniff.

You hardly notice, too busy mapping the contours of Charles’ mouth with hungry sweeps of your tongue, muffling his delicious groans by deepening the kiss. By the time you finally break apart, you’re both left panting harshly, gazes locked in a blissful haze.

“Still think I only have eyes for the dog?” You rasp, relishing the way Charles’ pupils are blown wide.

He swallows thickly. “You make a … convincing argument.”

“Mmm, I try.” You lean in to nip at his kiss-swollen lower lip with a sly grin. “But I’m more than happy to keep making my case ...”

Charles growls low in his throat, hauling you forward until you’re properly straddling his lap, bodies flush. “Don’t mind if I do.”

Breathless laughter spills from your lips as he surges up to capture them once more, hands roaming eagerly over your curves. In that heated moment, the puppy is forgotten as you pour all your focus into worshiping each other, affections firmly realigned.

Well … until a tiny bark sounds from nearby, followed by indignant grumbling and the patter of tiny paws. You reluctantly break the steamy kiss, rolling your eyes fondly as Leo hops up onto the couch to shove his way between the two of you.

“Easy there, troublemaker,” you chuckle, stroking the puppy’s silken fur as he clambers between you and Charles, yipping happily now that he has both his humans’ full attention. “See, baby? I told you there was enough love for all of us.”

Charles chuckles ruefully. “It’s a good thing he’s cute.”

You grin, leaning in to rest your forehead against his as Leo snuggles down with a contented sigh. In this perfect cocoon of warmth and adoration, you can’t imagine anything better.

And if the three of you stay snuggled up on that couch long into the evening, trading lingering kisses and delighted giggles as Leo’s little tail thumps happily … well, no one has to know.

[seresinhangmanjake]

The Harkonnen's Sweet Thing

Feyd-Rautha x Atreides!Reader

Summary: You watched your brother kill the man you love--a man you were once gifted to by the Baron--and now that he is gone, you think Paul will use you as a political pawn in his war. And you're right. But you're shocked to discover who is demanding to have you.

Words: 2650

Notes/Warnings: Ignore canon ages in the timeline. I don’t know what they are, but everyone young is in their twenties, cool? Cool. Dune inaccuracies. Jessica and Paul kind of (very much) suck. Feyd’s a soft boy for our reader. Angst but also fluffy-ish stuff. Implied smut. Mention of pregnancy. I think that’s it. TG:M people ignore me. I don’t know what I’m doing here either, but i'm embracing it for now. 

Part 2

When your brother pierced through armor into pale flesh, you felt it as if he had driven that blade into your body instead of the body of the man you love. You felt the shock of icy steel penetrating warm and delicate tissue, and the suffocation that came from the mutilation of your lung. You felt droplets of blood run down your front as you reached for the blade that was not there. As children, you were taught not to remove it. Not unless sufficient care was nearby to stop the bleeding before too much was lost.

Paul did not respect that knowledge. He yanked his knife out of Feyd’s torso and watched with relief as he collapsed to the ground. His body landed with a thud that matched the heavy beat of your heart. A beat that reminded you your blood was rushing strong, keeping you alive while your lover was draining dry of the strength to keep himself from leaving this world, from leaving you. 

You wailed in the silence of those around you. Screamed at the top of your lungs as tears streamed down your face. You tried to go to him but the Fremen snatched you before you could reach him, forcing you to your knees, one of them slapping a hand over your mouth. This was not the time for hysterical outbursts; it was a time to stare in awe as a new leader accepted his victory and claimed power over the emperor and his daughter. 

“Shut up, girl,” a male voice spit in your ear. He was tired of the struggle you were putting up against the hand squeezing your face. You were ruining his opportunity to witness a beautiful moment in history. A defining moment. A moment you didn’t give two fucks about. 

No one spared you a glance save for the witch whose vibrant eyes were drilling into the side of your skull. A woman your father had instructed you receive as a stepmother following your third birthday. A manipulative woman whose smile in front of the Duke had masked the scowl permanently seared onto her face when looking at you—a decades-long act that the capture and death of your father had freed her from. And she’d wasted not a second displaying her distaste for his daughter. 

Not long ago you'd thought to thank Lady Jessica for not loving you. Her lack of love made her so terribly desperate to rid herself of you that when cornered the night your family was attacked, she’d thrown you right into the arms of the Harkonnens—a fate she believed would destroy you rather than thrust you into a life you would come to cherish.

“A gift for you, nephew,” the baron had said after the fighting ceased and the soldiers, with you in their grasp, had returned to their unfamiliar home.

Feyd-Rautha had not rushed when he descended the staircase and approached you for the first time. His eyes were unblinking as he’d taken in his present; a slow drawl from head to toe that sent shivers down your spine. 

“An Atreides,” Feyd had said in a low voice, deep and thick and eerily lovely.

The baron’s voice did not contain the same appeal. “Yes. Do you like it? A new pet for you to ruin.”

You’d stood frozen as Feyd traced a knuckle down your cheek before grasping your chin and running his thumb over your bottom lip. He’d possessed not a lick of shame when his index finger drew a line from the dip of your throat to your cleavage. There had been no consideration for your feelings when he tucked that same finger between your breasts and the neckline of your nightgown and lightly tugged you forward. 

You had gasped with your stumble, your hands pressing against his chest to catch your fall while he smirked at the blush tinting your cheeks. His tongue then darted out to dampen his lips before he moved his hand to the curve of your waist and squeezed. 

“Perfect,” He’d said, not in a loud declaration of appreciation, but in a tone meant for your ears only. Then he’d grabbed you by the wrist and led you to his chambers.

When the door had slammed behind you after you were jerked inside the room, you were suddenly filled to the brim with panic. You’d heard the rumors. What would he do to you? How would he do it? Would you suffer long? 

A tear had slipped down your cheek that, once noticed, was brushed away with his thumb. 

“Do not worry yourself unnecessarily.”

You’d swallowed, stuttering, “Wh-What do you mean?”

He’d pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it aside, exposing pale skin taught over defined, well-trained muscle. Then he’d stepped into your space, inching you backward until your spine was flush with the wall. He’d fisted the flimsy, nearly see-through fabric of your nightgown in his hand and slowly dragged it up your body until fingers could sneak under the hem to graze your inner thigh.

You’d sucked in a sharp breath at the pleasurable waves of heat that rippled from his touch.

“Atreides or not, you’re much too precious to ruin the way my uncle suggests,” he had said, his lips a hair's-width away from yours. “I've been looking for you for so long. You're mine now, do you understand?”

“Y-Yes.”

“Are you afraid of me?”

He hadn’t loved your hesitation—you could see it in his eyes and in the downturn of his lips—but he was satisfied when you’d truthfully said:

“No.” Because you weren’t. Not after he had brushed that tear off of your cheek.

His next question had caused your heart to skip a beat from the concoction of emotions it shot through you. Fear of the unknown mixed with unexpected excitement.

“Have you done this before?” 

You’d shaken your head and in response he lightly nodded, his nose nudging yours. 

“You want to?” he’d asked, hiking your leg up to his hip, and you found yourself nodding as well. “I won’t make it hurt.”

You’d replied with a soft “Ok” before accepting his kiss with as much fervor as he was giving it, thankful that what you’d imagined was awaiting you upon your arrival in foreign territory was far from what you were receiving. 

Days later, when you had mentioned that he did not live up to the rumors of his cruelty extending to all areas of his life, he’d hummed. Said, “I make many bleed, and enjoy it. I feed off of their pain. Those who have been in my bed are not spared this, and it will not be uncommon for you to see me stained with the death of others, including my former pets.” 

He’d paused then, allowing you a moment to question your future as one of those pets, if that's what he considered you.

“But I have been searching for something that I’ve wanted for a very long time,” he’d said. “Something that hasn't existed within these walls. Something I will never want to harm. Something…soft…and sweet,” he had admitted to your surprise.

He’d then told you that you were that sweet thing. That he’d known it from the moment he saw you. That he was choosing you. 

But it was a choice that had its repercussions. 

All things must have balance, and you had tipped the scales. From his gentleness toward you, a darker, more gruesome beast emerged when facing off with others. A brutal warrior who never surrendered and never lost. A sadistic man who showed no mercy to the opponents whose blood you would later wash from his body. He had annihilated his previous reputation as just the famed killer of Geidi Prime and evolved into something more, all because of you.

That was why you thought he would win against Paul. Your brother was skilled, but the universe had long known the name Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen for his prowess in combat and his ruthlessness which had only grown with time. 

So why was it not your brother on the floor with his love sobbing and struggling to reach him?

In the thirteen days since your lover’s death, it is that question that has robbed you of all peace. 

Despite your brother having escorted you back to Caladan for the time being, you find no sense of home or happiness in your birthplace. You walk the beaches and fields that, as a child, you dreaded one day leaving, but they are not the same. Nearly a year has gone by since you were last here, however, so much of what you once loved about this planet is overshadowed by the shattered heart caused by Feyd's death. 

When you were young, your father would often express his wishes for your future. He would paint a beautiful image of you bringing your children to play in the gardens of your childhood home, carefree and unburdened. It was a source of comfort that he used to mask the reminder of your duty as an Atreides: that you would not be marrying and having children out of love, you would marry in the name of peace and produce heirs in the name of security. And it seems in the end, he was right.

With Feyd unable to claim you, Paul will be the one to secure new arrangements for your future, which just so happens to greatly fare in his favor. After all, he just declared war, and you are the ripened political pawn at his disposal.

“Are you well?”

You turn as sharply as you can at the intrusive voice, but the uncomfortable skirts of your dress are thick and stiff, restricting your movements. Feyd never made you wear anything like this and you forgot what it's like to be weighed down by layers of fabric. You fucking hate it.

Paul stands a few feet away, his hands clasped behind his back and a light smile on his face. Clearing his throat, he joins you on the balcony attached to your old room. 

“I know we haven’t spoken much about what’s to come. I’m sure you’ve been curious,” he says. 

You shrug, shake your head, and return your gaze to the horizon where ocean meets sky. 

“We have matters to discuss.”

Matters such as where he will be sending you off to be married, you imagine. He must act quickly if he intends to establish and gain control over house alliances, since they weren't overly enthusiastic about accepting him as their leader.

“Let's sit down,” he tells you. He grasps your hand before you can object and guides you to one of the balcony benches. Once you’re settled, he takes a seat beside you and says, “I am going to ask you something. And I want honesty.”

You sigh. “What?”

“When you were with the Harkonnens for those many months, were you treated like a slave as I had feared, or were you something far from it?”

Your eyes narrow. “Why are you asking me this?”

“Because it’s important,” Paul states, staring you directly in the eye. “I’ve been thinking about the way you wept over him after we fought, and how he denied every offer I made in exchange for your release…” With his pause, he shakes his head. “I thought maybe he had messed with your mind, confused you, and that was why you were so hysterical over his loss…but that’s not right, is it.”

“Paul–”

“Does he love you?”

It takes conscious effort to keep your body from shifting uncomfortably. “What is it to you?”

“He survived his wounds,” Paul says. 

The casualness with which he shares that news heavily contrasts everything that runs through you. Your heart stops. Your lips part, unsuccessful in drawing in oxygen. Your eyes no longer see anything but Feyd’s face as it flashes in front of you. The way he looked when he last smiled at you. The way he looked the last time he came inside of you. The look of him when he died—or almost died. Death had been there, looming over him. 

You’re trying to will away the tears. Paul is watching you too closely. “Wh–What?” you say.

“He’s alive, and he is demanding you be returned to him,” he informs you. “So, tell me: is he truly threatening me so aggressively over one of his ‘pets’? Or is he threatening me to get back the woman he loves?” 

The woman he loves. You never imagined yourself in a situation where your brother would ask if a member of a centuries-long rival house loves you. But then again, you never imagined a member of a centuries-long rival house loving you to begin with.

You remember the night he told you. It was late and your bodies were bare after having bathed together. You were searching for your nightgown when he said “Come to bed, my love.” 

You sighed, defeated. He’d called you that before, but whether it was real or not was such a mystery and it hurt your heart a little bit more each time. “You shouldn’t call me your love unless you mean it,” you finally told him. 

You heard his footsteps when he stood from the bed. He walked up behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling your back against his chest. “Why would I call you that if I do not mean it?” he asked. Then he hummed and said “You know me better than that, my love” before dipping his head lower and nipping the shell of your ear with his teeth. 

So yes, he loved you—loves you. But there���s something in Paul’s voice as he asks you that question that gives you pause. It’s too gentle as if luring you into a false sense of security. The Harkonnens are not known for their capacity to love, and Feyd loving you could be seen as a weakness; his one vulnerable spot.

As monotone as you can manage, you reply, “If you’re being threatened you should just send me back and be done with it. I know you have more important things to worry about.”

Paul’s lips thin in disappointment. “I can’t send you back,” he says. “Not yet.”

“Why not?”

He sighs. “Because I believe he loves you. And I need to see how far a Harkonnen is willing to bend for an Atreides,” he says. “If he wants you back, he will have to be open to negotiations.”

You stand sharply, take a few steps from him, and blow out a heavy breath through your nose. You were told your brother changed after drinking that magic water and it shows. Holding you hostage for political gain is not the same as marrying you off. 

“I would like to be done with this conversation,” you say with a huff.

“I understand,” he replies, so you turn to enter your bedroom. But before you’re fully through the door, he says, “There’s more, though.”

You freeze. 

“I had a dream,” he says, his voice coming closer. “There was a boy, no more than five years old. He had your features and your hair but his skin was of the same paleness as the Harkonnens.”  

Sucking in a breath, you brace yourself with a hand gripping the door’s frame. 

“You’re pregnant, sister,” he tells you, leaning against the opposite side of the doorway. “But I'm very glad to know that the heir of Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen is a product of love rather than an unfortunate incident,” he says. “Additional incentive, should it be necessary.”    

In your shock, you can’t look at him. He doesn’t need you to. You can see his smirk in your peripherals, then he pushes off the frame and heads toward the main door of your room. 

“Try to get some rest, sister,” he calls over his shoulder. “You really shouldn't be on your feet too long.”

[maplesturniolo]

Shower~C.S

Warning- SMUTT, “just friends”, shower sex, nicknames (ma), nothing else really (my first story, also not proofread)

Summary- your sleepover gets a little spicy when Chris finds out your secret. (Sorry this is so short)

Almost every weekend me and the triplets find time to have a sleepover, but this week only Chris and nick could make it. That’s because Matt was really sick and didn’t want to get anyone else sick as well. Particularly because Matt is sick we are sleeping over at my house. And don’t get me wrong I love these boys so much, but I kind of have a small crush on Chris. I hope he doesn’t know and now I’m worried because I only have one small ish bed in my room and one spear room that Nick usually likes to sleep in, so that means Chris would have to be with me…

~

“Hey we should watch a movie, I seen an ad on TikTok for it” nick said looking up from his phone a split second before reaching for the remote. We were all sitting on the large couch I had in my house. Nick and I sat beside each other and Chris was looking in the fridge for food. Once nick got the movie ready to play I readjusted my self to be laying my head on his thigh and had my legs spread to the other side of the couch. “Chris you coming” nick shouted at Chris who was still looking through my kitchen. I looked over at him, leaned against the side of the fridge his veiny hands grasping a can of Pepsi.

I wonder what those long slender fingers would feel like inside me?

“Hey you good?” I snapped out of my thoughts when Nick asked “yea no I’m fine” I say shaking my head and giving him a slight smile in reply. “Cmon guys let’s just start the movie already” I say trying ti keep my mind off of how hot Chris looked right now.

~

Half way through the movie, I sat in between Chris and nick still laying my head on nick except now it’s on his shoulder. Nick had picked a horror movie, I was completely fine with it but Chris on the other hand, not so much. At every single jumps scare he flinched, and sometimes screamed.

Man I wonder if he would make those noises if I jerked him off?

More of the movie has passed and I got tired, “hey guys you can keep watching I’m just a bit tired I’m going to go lay down” they nodded their heads and I walked up the stairs to my room and closed the door behind me. I got undressed and put on a pair of tight shorts over my black lace underwear. I removed my bra and put on one of nicks shirts that he lets me borrow. Just then I hear a knock on my door.

“Hey sweetie make sure you guys don’t stay up too late tonight okay” my mom said coming in to give me a hug goodnight. “Yup, love you!” I say in response walking over to my bed.

As I was scrolling on my phone Chris barged in “I spilled my Pepsi all over me now I’m all sticky” you giggled in response seeing the huge puddle of Pepsi on his shirt. “You could just take a shower if you want” you said looking over to the bathroom door. “Thank you” Chris sarcastically put his hands together and looked at you before grabbing his change of clothes and walking into your bathroom.

Chris was already in the shower and you realized that you needed to brush your teeth. “Hey Chris! Can I come in for a sec?” You said knocking on the door a few times, “yup” he yelled back in response. You grabbed your toothbrush and started to apply the toothpaste when you heard a knock on the door of your bathroom “hey the boys are in the spare room right?” “Uhh, yes ya they are!” You say in response knowing Chris was naked behind you. “Okay! I’m coming in to grab something real quick!” You didn’t know what to do do you quickly got undressed and jumped in the shower with Chris.

“Hey! What th-“ you put your hand over Chris’s mouth. “Okay thanks sweetie! Goodnight!” Your mom closed the door and left, leaving you completely exposed Infront of Chris, and him exposed infront of you. “Holy fuck” Chris says staring you up and down. “Chris!” You shout at him and turn around. “Whattt? You are the one who jumped in here”

I mean he isn’t wrong, “shut it Christopher” you snapped back at him. As you were lifting your feet up to get out Chris’s hands attached to your waist.

“Where do you think you’re going” you could feel his rock hard dick on your back “anywhere but here” you say turning around to face him.

Just then Chris pulls you in for a passionate hungry kiss, his tongue immediately exploring your mouth. You start grinding forwards into his dick, getting groans from Chris.

“Now if we’re are going to do this you better be fucking quiet” Chris said grabbing your jaw, you let out a moan “I need words ma” “yes oh my god just fuck me already” you moaned out.

Quickly Chris turns you around and pushed your back down to create an arch, you could feel the arousal dripping from your pussy.

“You’re so wet for me” Chris said as he swiped his eager tip through your folds. You moaned at the feeling, “I told you to be fucking quiet” he pounded into giving you no time to adjust to his 8 inch dick.

He waisted no time, fucking into you harder and harder, very few moans escaped your mouth. “I’m gonna-“ you say trying not to scream at the pleasure. “Not yet ma, cum with me” he said slightly adjusting his position, now repetativly hitting your g-spot.

“Oh fuck Chris” you moaned, releasing all over his cock. “Oh shitt” he says right after you, releasing his own cum deep into your pussy. “What the fuck just happened” he said as he pulled out of you slowly, “I don’t fucking know”

~

You and Chris were laying in your bed, your head in his chest talking when you got a text, it was from Nick.

“Did yall just fuck”

You and Chris look at eachother and giggle. What’s gonna happen now?

[tangyangie]

— 𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐩𝐭 𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐲 ⊹

characters. albedo, budo masuta, ganyu, kusuo saiki, neito monoma, raibaru fumetsu, teruko tawaki, + wanderer/scaramouche

desc. how some of my favorite characters would react to you wiping away their kiss for a prank!!!

notes. i love this idea so much and i want to try it out (if i actually had a life)

𝐀𝐋𝐁𝐄𝐃𝐎 ⊹

we already know that albedo is a little bit of a tease. although he may not show it in his face.

he'd probably catch on as soon as you try anything. which is why you need to do this when he's tired. after he's done a lengthy experiment is the perfect time to try this out.

he comes back home to you, waiting for see your face. that's all he really cares about right now. you peek from your room, seeing his face down the hallway. you smile and speed towards him, throwing yourself onto him while giving him a big hug.

"hi, 'bedo. how was your day?" you ask, seemingly innocent.

"it was alright," he sighed, quickly pressing a small kiss on your temple as he walked to put his things down. he looks up in the mirror to see you wiping his kiss away.

he definitely was not expecting that, especially after you almost tackled him from running so quickly down the hallway. there's a few possibilities he'd think might be the reason for this.

— you're mad at him because he did something.

— you're mad because someone else did something and you're taking it out on his kisses.

— no one directly did anything, so you're mad at everyone.

— this is a prank.

and, from the way you turned to look at him and immediately snapped your head back when you made eye contact (don't think that he didn't see your smile), he figured it was the last one.

but he was definitely feeling a little scared at first. he thought he did something wrong and couldn't tell. he just looked at your with his signature blank expression with a slight smirk.

"what are you doing?" he asked, raising his eyebrows.

"hmm?" you slowly turn around, doing your best to hide your smile. although you're doing it quite well, albedo notices everything.

you barely notice as he grabs your hands quickly, before placing a kiss in the exact same spot as earlier. he holds your hands firmly, not allowing you to move them.

you decide to take it a step further. you nuzzle into his neck as if you're giving him a hug, and wipe the kiss yet again, using albedo instead of your hand. he doesn't know how much more obvious you could make it that this is a prank.

as soon as you look back up again, you are attacked by a kiss. with absolutely no warning. he gives you no time to react, therefore leaving you with no time and no way to remove the kiss.

"it was a nice try," albedo says. "maybe, next time—you don't make it so easy for me to understand."

you glance at the teasing look he has on his face. it's amazing what little variety his facial expressions have, yet you can still tell what they are.

"that's not fair, 'bedo." you sigh.

he chuckles lightly before kissing you once again.

𝐁𝐔𝐃𝐎 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐔𝐓𝐀 ⊹

he's the sweetest boy. there's no need to do this to him.

oh, but how you love to torture him. he puts up with it, so there's no harm. he understands it's all playful.

he loves giving you kisses. just passing by you in the halls, meeting up in his clubroom for lunch, seeing each other after school... none of them are complete without at least a quick smoochie.

so, of course, you try and prank him.

you're walking around the school after your last period, and you're calmly walking when you get the idea. he's already got an arm around you, so it's inevitable that he'll lean in to try and land a kiss on your cheek.

you know him so well. he does the exact action mere seconds later. you don't even spare him a glance as you wipe it away, but you give him a quick giggle.

he stops dead in his tracks. "did—did you just..?"

"did i just what?" you say, turning around, with a confused expression plastered onto your face.

he's just thinking what he possibly did wrong.

'is it because i didn't give them any of my lunch??'

'or, maybe i said something and didn't notice!!'

he's lost in his own thoughts. his hand is on his chin, and he's looking down to the ground, going through the entire day in his head.

you kind of just stand there... waiting to see if he'll realize. but, he's completely out. he can't hear you whisper his name to get him out of the trance.

"budo..!"

you wave your hands, but not even motion is getting him out.

you give in, officially throwing in the towel in terms of carrying out the prank.

you throw your arms around him and press a long, sweet kiss to his lips.

"sorry, budo. i was only playing." you smile, placing another one directly on his forehead.

he blinks a couple times before sighing in relief, taking your face in his hands before kissing you again.

"don't do that, y/n. i thought i was going to drop dead right there." he sighs before laughing, his hand on his forehead.

"i'll drop dead before i actually wipe your kisses." you grin, reassuring him with a big hug.

𝐆𝐀𝐍𝐘𝐔 ⊹

she will definitely react the most out of them all.

she's already nervous about everything, no need to make her self-conscious about her kisses!!

yet, somehow, you thought that pranking her would be a good idea.

you're both sitting on one of the cliffs in liyue. you're smelling the clouds through your nose, as you lay your head on ganyu's shoulder.

she's already partially asleep, but she wakes herself up enough to give you a kiss to your temple. you, with a sly smirk, then brush the kiss away.

she doesn't believe her eyes, at first. after that, she goes into full panic mode.

her eyes are wide open as she stares off into space. she is going insane in her head.

'nooo. no. did i do something?? do they hate me?? am i a failure???'

her hands move to rest on her cheeks on the sides of her face. hee face is slightly turning pink at how much she's embarrassed.

'is it my breath?? should i have eaten sweet flowers instead of qingxins this morning?? i knew they were too bitter..'

you can literally see the steam coming out of her ears. putting her through any more of this would literally be a form of torture.

you gently turn to grab her hands. you hold them in yours and bring them down, encouraging ganyu to look you in the eyes. you whisper an apology as you press a kiss to her nose.

she honestly looks relieved just to see that you don't hate her.

"i was pranking you, ganyu. 'm sorry.." you sigh, bringing her in closer for another kiss.

she nods and strokes your hair, smiling at you. "that's alright, y/n."

you slightly back up and motion to your lap. you gently pull her down so that her head is laying in your lap, soothing her mind as you place another kiss on the top of her head.

𝐊𝐔𝐒𝐔𝐎 𝐒𝐀𝐈𝐊𝐈 ⊹

he's wearing his germanium ring. it's time to strike.

you couldn't help but notice saiki seeming a little more at peace than normal. if you could consider his normal at peace.

of course, it's all due to the thought-cancelling ring. so, you took the opportunity to finally be able to do something without him catching on.

you crept up next to him, snuggling your head into his neck. he'd never been one for physical affection, but this was the only way to coerce him into giving you a kiss without explicitly saying it. and he was smart enough to figure out what you if you would've told him.

he opened an eye to see you, and then lightly pecked you on the cheek before returning to his activity... whatever it was.

you casually wiped the kiss off, slightly turning your head to make sure saiki saw. he definitely did.

his eyes intensify as he stares at you with an extremely surprised expression.

"hello. i go out of my way to kiss you, something you're always begging me to do, and you wipe it off?"

you raise your eyebrows at his immediate reaction.

"what are you talking about?" you ask, trying your best to appear clueless.

his face looks a little gloomier now. he sighs and turns away.

you smile at the reaction, but feel a little bad. so, you crawl over to him and give him a small kiss on the lips.

"sorry, i thought it would be funny." you whisper, smiling softly. he grumbled something under his breath and pulled you in for another kiss.

"it wasn't. if you do it again, i'm sending you to point nemo."

𝐍𝐄𝐈𝐓𝐎 𝐌𝐎𝐍𝐎𝐌𝐀 ⊹

you were finally settling down after a long day of training. stretching your back and reaching your arms until you felt relief, you twirled into your bed, directly into neito's arms.

"hm? did someone miss me?" he smiles, beaming at you. "of course you'd love me. i'm much better than everyone in that stupid class 1-a. i'm sure you were dying to see me."

"and just when i thought i could get some peace..." you groan dramatically, turning towards his chest.

"it's your fault for being in class 1-a, you should ask for a transfer to class 1-b!! you'd fit in a lot better than with those losers!!" he laughs, tapping you on the nose.

"neito..." you say, with a warning tone to your voice.

"sorry, sorry," he smiles, pressing a soft and sweet kiss to your lips. poor boy, he had no idea what you were planning. he'd fallen right into your trap.

with a seemingly straight face, you wipe the kiss with the back of your hand, dragging it out as long as possible without making it obvious that you were playing with him.

"excuse me??" he gasps, raising his eyebrows and lowering his jaw. the look on his face was comical. "what was that?"

"what was what?" you say, still able to keep your smile contained. "i didn't do anything."

"did... did you really care that much about what i said about your classmates??" he had a whiny look on his face.

you let out a small laugh, but it sounded like more of a 'pfft' than a 'HAHAH'. you bit your lip in hopes of preventing the rest of it from escaping, but you'd already failed.

"ha ha ha, you're so funny. keep my kisses." he says with a squint, applying several more kisses to your face, moving at a quick enough pace that you were unable to block him.

"ahh!!! neito!!!" you squeal, fanning your hands at his face in an attempt of getting him to relieve your face.

he'd already gotten you immobile as he plastered dozens more of kisses onto your face. your face felt breezy by the time he was done, letting you know that no part of your face had been left unkissed.

𝐑𝐀𝐈𝐁𝐀𝐑𝐔 𝐅𝐔𝐌𝐄𝐓𝐒𝐔 ⊹

she notices everything. if she can sense someone 5 feet away with a knife, she will definitely notice your little trick.

but that fact doesn't stop you from trying.

you're sitting at the school fountain with her, eating lunch. she feeds you a dumpling as you thank her with a mumble, covering your mouth.

she chuckles and kisses your cheek, and that's the moment of action. you dramatically drag your hand across the side of your face, causing her to turn her head towards you.

her eyes are open wide, but she doesn't look sad. simply surprised. "y/n? what'd you do that for? did you not like the dumpling?" she asks, looking towards her food.

you shake your head and shrug. "the dumpling was really good... what are you talking about?" she notices the trace of a smile on your lips, and then her face returns to normal.

she sighs with a laughing smile on her face. "y/n, was that really just a prank??"

"what? was what a prank? i don't know what you're referring to." you look away, kicking your legs as a distraction.

"hello? the kiss!" she giggles, setting her lunch beside her. "why'd you wipe it away?"

"i don't know what you're talking about, rai." you sigh, straightening your posture. you're just totally telling the truth.

she doesn't think you're this clueless. she quickly leans in and sticks another kiss on your cheek. you reach to get rid of it once more, but she catches your hand.

you're doing your best to keep down your laugh. you reach with the other hand—almost nonchalantly. before you know it, she grabs that one too.

she smiles and simply looks at you, waiting to see what you're going to do next.

you can't hold it in anymore. you start laughing so hard, you fall forward and knock raibaru off the bench. which, in turn, only causes you both to laugh more.

so, passerby can look to the fountain to see two students laughing in shambles.

𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐔𝐊𝐎 𝐓𝐀𝐖𝐀𝐊𝐈 ⊹

after being with you, she realized that kisses are actually one of her favorite activities. you can lure her out of her room with a promise of a kiss.

and she will hold you until you melt. you can literally just be sitting there, and she will pepper your face all over. so... of course, you decided to mess with her a bit.

you were doing your own separate activities on the couch. you were reading, and she was simply resting. suddenly, you heard the couch creak and felt teruko's body turn.

you expected what was coming next. you felt her lips rushing to your cheek, leaving a small spot. you knew she hadn't closed her eyes yet, so you seized the moment.

you wiped the kiss away with your wrist, returning to your book as if nothing happened.

and she. is just. flabbergasted??

you.. huh?

she slowly orbits her head towards your face, giving you the worst glare of the 21st century. you can literally see the shadow falling onto her face.

"y/n." she says, still holding onto you, pressing slightly harder as a caution. "i'm going to need you to explain."

she's already got trust issues. what is she supposed to do in this situation?? she can't really take your kisses hostage.

you sigh, discouraged that you were already discovered. "aww, you caught me." you put a fake pout on your face, finally looking into teruko's eyes. they're very scary.

"that's not what i asked." she says, lowering her voice further, turning you to look up at her. she's hovering over you, very obviously expecting an explanation.

"well... it was only a prank." you smile. you can't help but let a giggle escape at how passionate she was about a simple peck.

"uh huh. show me." she snaps, furrowing her eyebrows as she lowers herself closer to your face.

you smirk and press her face closer, finally giving her the kiss she wanted. "you don't see me wiping away your kisses," she grumbled, pulling away and leaning back into the couch.

she had a satisfied look on her face, though, and she hugged you tighter. but, if you ever do that again, don't expect her to be so patient with you. she will pounce.

𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐑/𝐒𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐌𝐎𝐔𝐂𝐇𝐄 ⊹

"you're exhausting..." you heard from behind you, the bells on scaramouche's hat jingling softly.

"i'm just trying to be healthy, explore nature. it'd be good for you to touch some grass sometime, ya know?" you tease, a giggle escaping your mouth.

"you—never mind..." he grumbled, getting closer to you and putting his arms around you.

"someone's awfully clingy today." you slip, giving him a playful glance.

"would you really prefer it if i wasn't?" he asks sweetly, pressing a kiss to your temple. he's almost being too cute to mess with right now.

but, you had priorities. with a huff, you brush your hands where he kissed you, wiping it away. you didn't look directly at him so that it'd be natural, but in your peripheral vision, you saw the most devastated look ever.

his jaw was on the ground. "you did not just do that." he growls.

"do what?" you smile. then get tackled by an angry scaramouche. "—hey!!" you yelp.

he traps you in his arms, holding you close and tight. he kisses you with no warning, straight on the lips, going for the gold. you could've sworn that he was more passionate than some normal kisses.

"you," he says in between each long kiss. "are not allowed," he grumbles. "to get rid of my kisses." he says firmly, looking you in the eyes.

you giggle at how easily he gave in, getting so angry at the prank.

"it was a joke, dummy." you tease.

"this definitely isn't." he smirks, leaning in close as he amorously kisses you one last time.

notes. guys keep in mind i'm only like one episode into season 6 of my hero so monoma may potentially be a little ooc (as well as others)... but i'm catching up as fast as i can i'm so sorry 🤧🤧

anyways... guys what do i do if i get the same req in different fonts (not literal fonts) 🫡

[sacredjake]

Heaven & Hell

pairing: Jake Kiszka x Reader

word count: 3.8k

warnings: 18+ MDNI!!!! basically p*rn, there is no plot. unprotected penetrative sex, cussing, impact play/spanking, edging, orgasm denial, sir kink, daddy kink, nicknames, hair pulling (f. receiving), oral (f. receiving), rough sex, cockwarming, squirting, dom!jake, eyeliner jake, sweaty jake, some fluff at the end. if i missed any pls let me know!

a/n: i intended to write this many moons ago and finally got around to it. this is inspired by end DIG jake and his smudged eyeliner. huge thank you to @gold-mines-melting for proof reading, coming up with the title, sending pic ideas and telling me to put in more sweaty jake and better descriptions of his beautiful tummy that we all love so much. love you so much, poppy, thank you<33333 also i wanna say that this is the first time @malany-gvf has not read one of my fics before it got posted so she will be going in blind hehe <3

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The show seemed to drag on for eternity, and you were grateful when the boys reappeared back on the stage for their encore. It's not that you weren’t enjoying the show. You were actually enjoying it a little too much. More specifically you were enjoying the way your hot rockstar of a boyfriend looked on the stage, his chest and neck glistening with sweat, his fingers moving furiously against the strings of his guitar, the way his hips were rocking into the instrument and his back arched, and the eyeliner that had smudged under his eyes. 

Oh the eyeliner. 

It was a shock to you just as much as it was to the fans that night when the curtain dropped. It was faint, just a little bit of black on his waterline, but my god was it driving you absolutely insane. And as the show went on, and the more Jake sweat, the more the eyeliner smudged making it almost unbearable. The throbbing between your legs wouldn't cease and only got worse, the thin material of your underwear sticking uncomfortably to your core with the arousal that pooled there.

When they started to play Highway Tune you decided it was time to make your way down to the floor so you could meet them as they walked back to their dressing rooms. You were able to catch the last half of the song after their jam session break, and you waited patiently for them to come off the stage. Just by the way Jake had been playing tonight you knew he would be looking for some relief, and that thought alone excited you. 

They had finally finished their set and were coming off the stage, Jake was first, nearly sprinting down the steps. Instead of handing his guitar to his stagehand Jake kept walking, one hand on the neck of the guitar to keep it from swinging about. His eyes were glued to your frame the moment he saw you standing there, the eyeliner extenuating his piercing stare. When he caught up to you, his right arm grabbed your left bicep, pulling you with him down the hall.

You didn’t say a word, knowing all too well what was going on. His guitar was covering the erection that had gotten increasingly worse throughout the night which is why he didn’t hand it off. His fingers dug into the meat of your arm, threatening to leave bruises, and it only turned you on more. The thought of him needing release so badly, and what he was about to do to you in the arena dressing room. 

Jake released your arm once at the door, his hand flying out to twist the knob. He guided you inside the room with a hand on your lower back, and quickly shut the door behind himself. You wandered over to the vanity in the dressing room, finding the eyeliner he used still laying on the counter. 

“The eyeliner was a nice touch, baby. Made all the fans go crazy.” You picked the pencil up and rolled it between your fingers. You watched through the vanity as Jake carefully removed his beloved guitar from his body and placed it on the spare stand by the couch. With the guitar out of the way, you could see just how badly he was straining against his pants.

He was quiet as he came up behind you, his left hand gripping your hip, the right brushing against your neck lightly to move your hair, exposing your neck. You watched his reflection come closer to you, his mouth right by the shell of your ear. His lips skimmed across your skin leaving fiery heat in their wake trailing from your ear down to the junction of your shoulder and neck where he began to place wet, hot kisses against your skin. 

“And what about you, sweetness? You seemed to be enjoying the show more than usual tonight. I bet those lacey panties of yours are just dripping.” The sensation of his breath fanning over your skin was making your head fuzzy, and your limbs weak. You barely registered the sound of the eyeliner pencil dropping onto the counter from your hand. 

You reached behind your head, tangling your fingers into his hair as your head rested against his shoulder, your back arching to push your ass further into his erection. With both his hands on your hips, Jake gave you what you asked for, rutting his hips into the swell of your ass. A whimper flew from your lips unable to contain just how needy you were for him.

“Jake please, don’t tease me. I need it, need you, bad.” Your voice was breathy and cracked when it came out, sounding like nothing more than a sigh. His hands traveled to the front of your denim shorts, popping the button and pulling the zipper down slowly. Jake slid the material down your legs, letting them pool at your feet. 

“Oh don’t worry,” He nipped at your neck before pulling away, “Daddy’s gonna take good care of you.” 

Jake pulled your hands away from him and placed them on top of the vanity, closer to the mirror. With the new placement of your hands he had you bent over the desk of the vanity, giving him the perfect view of your ass and your face. Not completely satisfied with your position, Jake swiftly nudged your feet wider apart with his own, spreading your legs for him. 

“She’s all wet and ready for me, isn’t she?” He drug his middle finger over your clothed slit slowly. The minor action alone made your heat clench and your clit throb. You needed more, and Jake obliged. His finger peeled your underwear away from your sopping cunt, dropping them to lay with your shorts. 

Once removed, his middle and ring fingers swept between your folds, stopping at your clit to rub tight, fast circles. His other hand was busy with the button and fly of his pants, doing his best to free his cock from its confines. You watched his dick slap against his tan and toned stomach that was still glistening with sweat as he pulled his boxers down. He grasped himself with his free hand and ran his tip through your folds, gathering your slick. Your high was building steadily the entire time, the coil in your core getting tighter and tighter. But in an instant it was gone. Jake’s ministrations on the hard bundle had stopped completely when he switched the hand holding his dick to pump himself a few times, covering him tip to base in your arousal.

You were ready to beg, and plead for him to do something, anything, when he slammed himself into you fully. The force with which he rocked into you caused your elbows to give out, your weight leaning solely on your forearms against the cold wood of the desk, and forcing your back to arch more. 

“Fuck Jake!” You gasped in pleasure at the way he stretched and filled you just right. It was borderline painful, but that's what made it so delectable. His hips hammered into you, punishing and unrelenting. Just the way you liked. 

You pressed your hand against the cool mirror to protect your head from being rammed into it, never taking your eyes off of Jake. Sweat trailed down his face and chest, his hair sticking to his forehead and neck. The scene was like one you had seen almost a hundred times, but not restricted solely to the bedroom. He looked as he did on stage not too long ago, brows furrowed and pinched together, mouth hung open slightly, hips thrusting and eyes glued to the source of his pleasure.

“That’s it, baby,” He nearly growled watching his cock piston in and out of you, “God you take me so fucking well. Like you’re made just for me, isn’t that right?” He tore his eyes from where the two of you connected and met yours through the reflection in the mirror. All of the air had been sucked out of your lungs. The sight of his dark, lustful eyes rimmed in the black eyeliner had depleted you of all thoughts and oxygen. You could only stare back at him and nod with your mouth open. 

Air quickly filled your lungs again with a sharp breath as his hand came down on your ass. The sound cracked loudly throughout the space, the motions of his hips never ceasing. You knew there was likely to be a full handprint, red and angry etched onto your skin. 

“I’ll try again in case you didn’t understand the question,” He planted his hand on the vanity next to your elbow, the sweat that spilled down his chest now began to seep into your shirt as he leaned into you. His other hand gripped your hip, using it to hold you firm. You didn’t dare look away from him, holding eye contact while he spoke next to your ear. 

“Who does this dripping cunt belong to?” He asked, his voice low and gruff. You couldn’t stop the groan that tumbled passed your lips even if you had tried. 

Jake was always sweet and gentle with you. He would constantly whisper ‘i love you’s into your hair with a kiss, bring you flowers any chance he had, open doors for you and hold you like you were the most fragile thing on the planet. You knew he would never hurt you intentionally and loved the way he worships you. 

Every now and then, though, you would get this side of Jake. He was demanding and rough and obscene. And you loved every single bit of it. This was exactly what you had been hoping for when you saw him on stage earlier in the night, and you were ready to feed into this side of him. 

“You, daddy, it’s all for you. Only for you.” You cooed watching for his reaction. His jaw clenched, and you could’ve sworn the chocolate of his irises turned solid black. 

In a split second he stood back up, both hands latched onto your waist. The speed on his hips never waivered, but his hands guided your hips to meet his with every thrust. 

“Don’t you dare take your eyes off me, do you understand?” 

“Yes, sir.” You nodded quickly. 

Your promise was quickly forgotten as his hips drilled into you faster and harder. The pace he set was absolutely grueling. With each thrust you were brought closer and closer to your end, you couldn’t hold your head up any longer. Your chin dropped down to your chest, your eyes squeezing shut. 

“What did I just fucking say?” Jake’s hand wrapped around your throat and pulled you upwards as he continued to fuck you mercilessly. When your back was fully flush against his chest, his hand moved upwards to grip your jaw, forcing you to look at him in the mirror. With the new angle you were teetering on the edge of bliss.

Jake knew instantly. He knew your body better than anyone. Knew all the signs of your impending orgasm. 

“I’m gonna-“ You were swiftly cut off with a smack to your left outer thigh. 

“No you aren’t, you’re gonna be a good girl and you’re not going to cum until I say so.” Jake grit out through his clenched teeth next to your ear, hot breath cascading over your sticky skin. 

Using the hold on your jaw he roughly pushed you back towards the counter top of the vanity. Your left arm shot down, your right catching on the mirror to stabilize yourself. Every breath, moan, and whine escaping your mouth fell against the mirror making it fog slightly. 

“Jake please, please. I can’t- I need to- fuck, I need to cum, please.” You whine, giving him your best fucked-out-doe-eyes. 

Jake’s only response was a groan coming from deep within his chest. His hand that was previously on your jaw wound tightly in your hair, drawing your head back sharply. The new pleasure that coursed throughout your body was heavenly. You felt him everywhere, and it was sinful bliss. 

With the grip on your hair, he used the leverage to pull your body backwards to meet each unforgiving thrust of his hips. The only sounds that came from you now were choked back sobs as you did your best to keep your orgasm at bay. You did as you were told and kept your eyes on his reflection, his lust blown orbs staring back at you. 

“Oh fuck babygirl, just like that.” The words came out low and breathy, sending you headfirst into your long awaited climax. Through your squinted eyes you watched as Jake’s head snapped back, his mouth hung open. 

Before he reached his own climax, he pulled out of you quickly. His fingers circled your clit making sure to carry you through the rest of your high. When you finally came down, he turned you around pressing your ass to sit on the counter. Without warning Jake dropped to his knees in front of you and pulled your thighs around his shoulders, eyes boring into you the entire time. 

He dragged his tongue slowly up your slit, gathering your release and groaning deeply, his eyes rolling backwards. The sight alone was enough to bring you to the edge so quickly. The smudged eyeliner underneath his eyes made him look so soft, yet dangerous. Like he could flip on a dime at any moment and split you in half just as he was moments ago. 

With each pass of his tongue over your sensitive bundle the coil deep in your core burned hotter. Jake was steadily working you towards another orgasm with his velvet smooth tongue alone. Your nails raked against his scalp, pulling groans from him and sending the vibrations straight to your dripping heat. 

You could spend eternity like this. Jake’s head between your legs, worshiping you the way he loves most. He looked absolutely divine. Beads of sweat trickled down his forehead and neck. The ends of his hair clinging to the wet skin. The look in his eyes was probably the best part. He looked like he was in absolute heaven, enjoying the way his tongue glided against you, gathering every bit of your sweet nectar.

Just when you were about to fall off the edge, Jake pulled back with a wicked grin. He wiped the back of his hand across his mouth, his tongue darting out to clean what he missed. You huffed a needy sigh in retaliation. 

“What’s the matter babygirl?” He rose to his feet and placed his hands on the vanity, caging your hips between them. His eyes darted around your face in faux concern before his mouth broke into a smirk. 

“Oh.” 

Such a simple word, but it was mocking and condescending, “Did you think I was going to let you cum?” The arrogant smirk never left his face as he reached up to tuck the hair from your face behind your ear. His hand slid down your neck softly, landing on the juncture of your throat and shoulder. 

“Only good girls get to cum more than once, baby. You haven’t been very good.” 

“I’ve been good.” You whined with a pout, squirming under his gaze. 

“But you haven’t. I told you not to cum until I said so and did you listen?” 

“No.” You dropped your chin to your chest, your focus landing on his necklaces dangling from his chest. His hand snaked up your neck to the base of your skull, his thumb pushing under your jaw and forcing you to look up at him. 

“No, you didn’t. Do you know what that means?” 

“I need to be punished.” You whispered innocently and sweet, looking at him doe-eyed. 

“That’s right, baby. Stand up.” 

You did as he asked and stood from your seated position with a little help from Jake. He led you to the couch where he rid himself of his pants and boxers fully before taking a seat. 

“You’re gonna ride me until I say you can cum. Is that clear?” 

He looked glorious sprawled out across the mundane couch. His arms were outstretched on the back, legs wide open and cock pressed against his soft, yet firm stomach. Everything about him in this simple state exuded confidence and authority.

The cushions of the couch were plush, your knees sinking into them softly as you moved closer to straddle him. With your mouth practically watering you nodded frantically. You received nothing but a ‘tsk’ from Jake and a firm hand connecting to your backside earning a hiss from your lips as you sucked in a quick breath. 

“I asked you a question.” He was stoic with an eyebrow cocked looking up at you, waiting for another slip up. 

“Yes sir.” 

“That’s my girl.” His hand soothed the sting it left behind and slid upwards to rest on your waist.  You lowered yourself down onto his lap with your hand wrapped around his length, guiding him through your slick walls. 

He wore the same authoritative expression as you lowered yourself all the way down. Cocksure and waiting. It was a sight that made you that much more aroused. Something about the way he emanated power while you were mechanically in control turned you on immensely. 

With both hands on his shoulders for support you lifted yourself up while rolling your hips forward before taking all of him in again. The speed you moved was steady, enjoying the feeling of his cock pushing and pulling against your clenching walls. Each motion of your hips wound the coil tighter and hotter, your second orgasm within reach. 

It was at this point that Jake grew impatient. His fingers dug roughly into the flesh at your waist and he took control of your hips, lifting you up quickly before slamming you back down on him fully. With each descent of your hips to his, you were met halfway as he began to thrust up into you. Moans, and gasps tumbled past your lips with an occasional curse word. 

Your body eventually gave up, letting Jake have all the power. The only thing holding you upright were your arms looped around his neck and his left arm cradling the entirety of your back, your head supported with the same hand. In this position he was all around you. There was nothing else, only Jake. 

You kept your eyes locked on his, your mouth hung open in ecstasy, his lips drawn up into something akin to a pinched sneer. 

“Is the pretty girl too fucked out to beg?” He mocked between thrusts. You couldn’t answer him, not a coherent thought forming. 

“That’s okay baby. She’s doing all the begging for you, gripping my cock so tight. I know she wants it.” Your eyes rolled back at the way he spoke about your pussy. He was going to be the death of you. 

“Go on then, let her have it. Cum for me, princess, give it to me.” Jake grit between clenched teeth, holding back his own climax just long enough to demand yours. For the second time he threw you over the edge into the vast pit of searing pleasure. The feeling was euphoric and relieving, the intense pressure that had been building finally released. 

Though your senses were dulled through the haze you could feel water coating your thighs, ass and belly, soaking portions of your shirt. 

“Oh fuck!” Jake groaned from below you the sound emanating from deep within his chest. He fucked into you faster somehow prolonging your orgasm and increasing the amount of liquid you felt splattering your skin. 

“That’s it babygirl, keep soaking my cock. Such a good girl squirting for daddy. Goddamn.” Praises flew past his clenched teeth as he reached his own high only to fall on deaf ears. You were far too gone to understand any of what he was saying. 

Violent muscle spasms rolled through your body while Jake did his best to support you through his release. He pulled your body into his with your chests pressed together and your cheek resting against his shoulder. The spasms faded into twitches before dissipating while you laid against him. You could feel every breath he took, his chest heaving up and down. 

“Goddamn you are perfect,” Jake whispered breathlessly and turned to place a kiss on your cheek, smoothing your hair with his hand, “I love you so much, baby.” 

You peered up at him, not having the energy to move your head, and met his eyes. He was smiling softly at you and practically glowing. A smile etched its way onto your face, tired and completely fucked out. 

“I love you too.” 

The two of you stayed in that position for a little while longer until you were uncomfortable, your combined sweat beginning to dry. You sat up from his sticky chest and winced due to the soreness and him still being tucked inside you. Jake was about to help you off of him when you froze. 

The entire couch was practically soaked. The cushions on either side of you were wet and you were positive the one below you had to be drenched. Your shirt was also wet, the lower half of it clinging to your skin, and Jake’s groin and belly showed remnants of liquid that had sprayed across him.

“Oh my god…” 

“Made quite the mess baby, but it’s okay,” He pulled you closer with a hand to the nape of your neck, “It was insanely hot.” He flashed you a smirk and placed a quick kiss to your lips. 

He helped you ease off of him and stand, holding your hands while you regained your balance on wobbly legs. When he was sure you could stand on your own he followed suit. Your guess was in fact correct. The cushion that had been below you was almost completely covered. 

Jake followed your wide eyes staring at the couch. As if sensing your anxiety he pulled the cushion out of the couch, turning it 180° before flipping it over and placing it back on the couch. He did the same with the others before looking back to you. 

“Good as new.” He pulled you into his side and kissed your hair. You wrapped your arms around his waist and gave him a thankful squeeze. 

“Thank you.” 

“Of course, baby. Now,” He squeezed you back before untangling himself from you to face you fully and hold both of your hands, “Let’s get you a new shirt and get back to the hotel so we can take a nice hot shower and clean you up. How does that sound?” 

“Like heaven.” You sighed dreamily feeling your body relax at just the mention of hot water cascading over your aching muscles. 

“Not quite,” Jake chuckled and shook his head, “You’re the only thing on this earth that’s like Heaven, baby.” 

“If I’m like Heaven, then what’re you?” 

He gave you a wicked grin and shot you a wink, holding his arms out as if presenting himself. 

“Welcome to Hell, angel.”

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[pekoehoneyncream]

Captain John 'Bravo Six' Price Headcanons

Part One!

Words: 500~

TW: None (sfw)

Part Two

Okay! Here are the promised headcanons!

The brainrot is intense for these boys rn, so the volume of headcanons kinda got outta hand. I didn't wanna slam y'all with the full 800+ words of headcanons that I've made for Price alone, so I decided that I'll post half now and half later.

That said, Thank you all again for the Huge response my poll got, and without further ado onto the The Headcanons!

His preferred drink is Green Tea with a spoonful of honey. He loves getting to sit, relax, and slowly sip his way through a nice hot cup of tea. If he’s in a rush or just needs to wake up he drinks coffee instead.

Takes his coffee with the smallest bit of sugar and no milk. His team argues that three grains of sugar can't make any difference, but Price insists that he doesn't like coffee straight black, he needs that bit of sweetness. The team once tested him by switching out his coffee for an identical cup of straight black coffee. Price's disgusted spluttering showed them that he can indeed easily taste the difference.

Cannot just sit down and do nothing. Always needs to be doing something. This man is a category five putterer. Just goes about absently neatening up, putting things back where they belong, pulling books forward to be level with the edge of the shelf, squaring papers with the corner of the table, wiping down the surfaces, adjusting his kit so it’s settled properly. He’ll do the same to the team as well. Mindlessly untwisting straps, pulling tight buckles, zipping pouches, pulling down the rucked-up hem of Ghost’s mask, straightening Gaz’s cap, correcting a stray hair in Soap’s warhawk.

The absolute worst at remembering names, constantly asking the team what this or that person's name is. Has a little notebook full of reminders that are only useful to him, the privates and FNGs think he's marking down performance notes, but he's just desperately trying to remember that one rookie's name before they leave eyesight. “Price, this just says ‘Michaels - Red Hat’, do you expect him to always wear a red hat?” “No, but I remember the hat, then I remember the face that was wearing the hat, and that face is Michaels'.” “Price, that makes no sense.” “Give that back and get. Have you nothing better to do? Go on, get!”

Paints his nails. He got a voucher for a free spa day as a birthday present one year, it included hot-rock therapy, mud-baths, a massage, and a mani-pedi. He went into it with a ‘fuck it, when in rome’ mentality and just said yes to everything while he was there. They explained that gel-polish is hardier and longer lasting than regular polish, without being super hard to remove like acrylics, so he went with gel-polish. At the time he just got a clear polish, but these days he does it himself and wears whatever colours he wants to. Has his own polishes and his own little uv lamp and everything. He could die on a mission tomorrow, he doesn't have time for your small minded ideas about masculinity. Before he was Captain of the 141, he actually got written up by a superior, not for wearing polish, but for wearing a nail-polish colour that wasn't a colour that's in regulation.

Loves water. Yes in the staying hydrated sense, but mainly in the swimming sense. He grew up with a creek behind his house and he spent every spare moment he could splashing around in it. To this day his favourite place is the beach, or anywhere with a body of water. A swimming pool is a poor replacement in his opinion, but he'll take what he can get.

Constantly loses track of time in the shower, his personal water bill is consistently exorbitant. When he doesn't have time to spare he sets a timer, when it beeps at 5 minutes it reminds him he needs to actually start washing up, and when it goes off at 10 minutes he forces himself to get out. When he has the time he sets the timer for 30 minutes.

Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed!

If you have any thoughts on the headcanons or ideas you'd like me expand on or things you wanna squeal about or prompts you want me to write PLEASE hit me up! My ask box is open 24/7 and I'd love to hear from you!

PekoeHoneynCream's Masterlist

[kana-daydreams]

𝐫𝐞𝐮𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲 𝐚 𝐛𝐫𝐨𝐤𝐞𝐧 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐞 || 𝐋𝐮𝐟𝐟𝐲

summary: you take Luffy’s hat hostage and use it as leverage to get him to look your way in hopes of rekindling what was once an unbreakable bond between childhood friends. genre: (attempted) angst w/ happy ending, gen wc: 3.4k

Crouching, barely camouflaged between lush tangerine trees, their citrusy and saccharine scent almost overwhelming your sense of smell, you peer down at the deck below you watching as every member of the straw hat pirates bustle about the Going Merry. 

“We’ve searched everywhere Luffy. Are you sure you checked every corner of the boys’ cabin?” You hear Nami let out an exasperated sigh and see her wipe a hand across at her brows.

Luffy, a few paces beside Nami, fixes a potted plant back into place, craning his neck to look over at her. His eyes fix her with a watery stare and his face is stained with tears; new ones threatening to emerge as he answers her with a weak nod.

“It’s probably overboard.” An audible yawn follows Zoro’s voice which cuts across from their right. 

His comment elicits a whimper from Luffy and a death glare from Nami, the former suddenly flopping to the ground, wailing a river of tears at the thought of his missing and beloved treasure.

“Idiot, look what you did!” Nami scolds and Zoro matches her frown with one of his own, the two commencing a wage of war through a bickering contest. 

You watch in slight amusement despite the seriousness of the situation as the rest of the crew attempts to calm down their navigator and swordsman, deciding that now was the perfect time to intervene.

 “I found it!” you hail them from atop Nami’s tangerine garden. 

All eyes direct themselves to you; all except one pair, and you earn somewhat of a look between  hesitance and relief from the straw hats as you begin to make your way towards them and towards the owner of the straw hat held firmly in your grasp.

Nami’s figure, however, stops you in your tracks before you could take another step closer to the hat’s owner.

“Thanks for finding Luffy’s hat.” A warm smile tugs at her lips though you notice it doesn’t seem to reach her eyes. “I’ll give it back to him.” She offers.

You look down at her outstretched hand which demands you give her the hat before raising your gaze to meet her brown eyes. “I’d like to give it to him myself if that’s alright.” You smile, a sweet and practised one like her own. 

You notice her hesitate at your words. “I…I don’t think that’s a—” A sudden weight on Nami’s shoulder, followed by Luffy’s voice, interrupts her. 

“It’s alright Nami.” 

Nami’s eyebrows draw together as she gives him a worried look. “Are you sure?”

Luffy removes his hand from her shoulder, returning it to his side as he nods slightly in response. 

Nami, although hesitant to leave you both in each other's company, returns a nod the same and leaves you two to your own, but not before sending a warning glance your way.

You watch as she retreats to a further corner of the ship; her along with the others keeping their attention fixed across at both you and Luffy and you wonder what warrants their audience—your marine uniform or something Luffy’s told them about you…Did he tell them about you?

Your attention draws back to Luffy who takes a while to meet your eyes and when he does, he plasters on a strained smile. “I’m glad you found my hat— thought I’d lost it for good.” 

At his words, you spare a glance down at the said object. You examine it— how battered and weathered it is, the red sash that rings around it just below the crown and the telltale signs that it’d been patched up a few times. 

I hate you! 

A frown ghosts over your expression and your grip around the hat tightens.

You loathe this hat.

It’s a feeling that has always lingered inside you since the day Luffy showed it to you with that wide toothy grin he always sported, saying he’d gotten it from a pirate.

You hate pirates. Always had and always will. 

Except for…

You return your gaze to look at the boy in front you, his mop of black curls becoming more dishevelled from the wind lashing against it. “You really treasure it, don’t you?” 

Luffy watches as your gloved hands fiddle around with his hat. “...I do.”

“Then I’ll return it.” You brandish the prized possession towards him and Luffy reaches a hand to retrieve his hat, but before his hands could make contact with it, you pull your own away.

Luffy’s face contorts in confusion at your action, though he doesn’t question it and instead takes a step forward, attempting to pry his hat out of your grasp; his movement urging you to take a step back.

Again, he takes a step forward.

You step back.

He matches it with another step of his own and so do you. 

“What are you doing?” His voice sounds annoyed as he pins you with a stern gaze.

You do not waver at the glare he sends your way and instead remain calm as you speak. “I’ll return the hat to you,” you start. “But only if you allow me to speak to you, Luffy…please.” You say, your tone pleading.

An indiscernible expression shadows Luffy's face at your words and a momentary silence settles between you both.

“Give me back my hat.” Luffy finally says.

You furrow your brows slightly, hurt that he’d refused your offer. What did you expect? You stole his hat— something he cherished with his life, which was now being used as a bartering tool.

“I won’t until you speak to me.” 

Stealing Luffy’s hat, you’re aware, was a low move and most likely a counterintuitive one, but left empty of an idea that could get him to acknowledge you, you opted to steal his hat as your last resort.

You scoff. How fate plays—forcing you to use the very thing that inflicted scars upon your relationship years ago to try and mend it. 

“I said give me back my hat.” Luffy takes a step towards you as your name grates against his teeth, a slight warning in his tone.

You steel yourself cradling the hat close to your chest. “No. I won’t until you stop acting like a five year old and speak to me!” 

Luffy’s lips curl into a frown, his brows pinching together in anger and frustration at your stubbornness and without warning, one of his hands darts out, shooting forward in your direction and towards the hat.

Fortunately, your quick reflexes allow you to get both you and the hat out of the way, though the action seems to anger Luffy further who persists in attempting to retrieve his hat, and thus a game of cat and mouse begins as his rubber hands begin to chase you around the ship.

It’s a game that continues for minutes—almost an hour— his hand twisting and turning, weaving and zipping their way through and under both narrow and wide spaces in every direction while you expertly evade his every attempt to grasp a hold of his hat as you dodge, skid, jump and even manage a backflip, almost tripping over your feet.

The rest of the straw hats remain silent spectators to the tom and jerry chase around the ship, though at one point during the chase, Zoro offers to intervene, but Luffy warns him against meddling with his fight.

“Just give it back to me!” Luffy bellows your name as you both are scrambling around on the deck.

 His elastic hands aim towards you and you duck, barely managing to dodge it as it crashes into the wooden wall behind you, splinters of wood pitching dangerously in all directions, and a shriek escapes both yours and Usopp’s lips who cries at Luffy to be more careful with his baby.

“If you want it back, you’re going to let me talk to you first!”

“I don’t wanna talk to you!” Luffy shoots his arm in your direction from beside the ship’s guardrail and this time you're unable to dodge it as they tangle themselves around you like a rope, rendering you unable to move.

You struggle in his tight grasp, though not tight enough to hurt you, as he reels you in closer to him.

Up close, you notice his face flushed and covered with beads of sweat, and watch as he reaches a hand to retrieve the hat that had fallen out of your grasp;  it being your only hope of reviving your friendship.

“Please Luffy…I just want you to hear me out.”

Luffy tenses at the crack of your voice and at the flood of memories that ambushes him, along with the familiar feelings of guilt and regret.

“Why should I, after you stole my hat?” He fixes the said item back on his head.

You avert your eyes and are slow to respond after the mention of your sin. “Because…we’re friends.” You eventually say.

Luffy’s eyes widen slightly at your words—at your lie. “Were friends.” He corrects and though his tone is cold as he speaks, there’s a tinge of  hurt as he forces himself to say the next few words. “Now you’re my enemy.” 

You feel your heart pinch in your chest and tears slowly brim at your eyes, reminded of the words that were spoken–you’d spoken–that brought your friendship to an end.

But couldn’t he see how desperate you were to fix that. How many times you’ve tried gaining his attention for the past couple of days you’ve been stuck on this damn ship because of him, sneaking on board after a fight between your ship and his. All because you wanted to correct the wrongs of the past and attempted day by day; relentless, every idea that sprung to mind, to rekindle that bond you once had— 

You bite down on your lip in a futile attempt to subdue any sobs that might escape.

But it seems you’re the only one who cares.

“You rubber jerk!” 

Luffy is taken aback by the tears that start streaming down your face and isn’t prepared for when you unexpectedly nail him in the head with your own. 

A grunt escapes you both when your heads knock together, sending a vibration rippling through your skulls and you feel Luffy’s arms untangle themselves from around you, the action causing you to slump to your knees.

You hardly hear the splash that follows and the worried voices of Luffy’s friends as you grip at your head which rings in pain, and only manage to come to your senses when Nami’s horrified voice screams at you, Luffy’s name, alerting you of his presence being no longer in front of you.

Later when the sun sets in, painting the ocean’s dark blue waters in its orange hue, you find yourself leaving Nami and Robin’s shared room in desperate need of some fresh air.

You’ve been cooped up inside their room the entire day after your fight with Luffy which ended with the taste of salt on your lips and your uniform soaking wet when you rescued him after he’d fallen overboard and into the sea.

“Luffy I–” your words were lost, interrupted when Luffy  hacked out a violent cough from beside you on the deck after you’d just fished him out from the sea.

You didn’t reckon that your headbutt would be strong enough to send him toppling over the guardrail and now both of you were drenched in salt water that pooled to the floor beneath you.

You waited for his coughing fits to cease before once again attempting to apologise. “Luffy I-I didn’t mean for all of this to happen— I was only trying to get your attention.” You admitted, not proud of the fact that you’d had to resort to stealing his hat to do so.

Luffy remained  silent at your apology and his lack of a response invited with it, a tense and uncomfortable silence. He didn’t even make an effort to spare a look in your direction.  

Instead, he raised himself off his back, reaching for his hat further beside him which too had been a victim of the sea, before putting it on his head.

It was all the hint you needed to know that he didn’t wish to speak to you and thus you pulled yourself to your feet, taking your leave. 

It’s been hours since neither of you’ve spoken to each other after your one-sided exchange, avoiding each other like a plague throughout the day.

You close the door to the lounge room behind you as you step outside, shivering slightly when a cold breeze attacks your skin; Nami’s clothes which she’d lent you after yours became drenched in water, not aiding much.

“Maybe I should have brought a jacket…” you murmur to yourself, rubbing your hands up and down your arms to warm yourself up as you start padding over to the guardrail near the figurehead of the ship.

As you approach, ahead of you, you notice a familiar figure seated atop it, seeming to be lost in thought.

Luffy is yet to notice your presence and before he could, you spin around on your heels, ready to head back in the opposite direction. 

However, you only manage to take a few steps forward when you hear him call out your name.

You ignore him, racing back in the direction of the lounge room, and although he continues to call your name, you still do not slow your steps; increasing your pace at the sound of his footsteps trailing after you.

Just as you’re about to take the first step up the staircase that leads to the lounge, you’re abruptly forced to a stop when a hand catches your wrist.

 “Wait, don’t go." Luffy’s voice pleads urgently from behind you. “I wanna talk.”

You remain silent for a beat as you crane your neck to look back at him in surprise. "W-What?" you ask, not certain if you'd heard him right.

"I wanna talk to you...please." Luffy says again.

“Really?” you ask, wondering why he’d had a sudden change of mind. 

Luffy answers you with a single nod, silently hoping that you would agree to his request.

“Uh…sure.”

There’s a faint smile on his lips at your response as he releases his grip on your hand before leading you both away in the opposite direction of the lounge.

A minute later, you’re both standing side by side; a few feet between you, near the railing closest to the figurehead.

Both of you are yet to speak a word to the other, the waves crashing against the ship and the howls of the wind, the only sounds which fills the silence that lingers between you.

It is soon broken when Luffy finally decides to speak.

“I’m sorry.” 

You turn your gaze away from the sea and over at him when you hear his voice that comes out barely above a whisper. 

 “For what?” Your brows knit together in confusion.

“For being a liar.” His eyes do not meet yours when he speaks.

Immediately the image of two children; a little boy with a mop of black hair and a little girl, the same age, makes its way to the forefront of your mind. Wide smiles grace their faces as they’re chasing each other around a lush open field of green, then clambering up a fruit tree; the boy’s hand reaching down to help the girl onto the branch he sits on before gathering the tree’s ripe fruits and eating their fill.

Later they’re settled next to each other on the pillow-soft grass, the girl’s eyes  pinned up at the sky watching the passing clouds and the boy snuggled up beside her, fast asleep while their pinky fingers remain entwined in a lifetime promise.

The wholesome image soon dies away when another appears in its stead, showing the same two children in the same field, but this time their bodies roll in the grass; their faces stained with dirt and bruises, and adorned with frowns as they tug and push at each.

“You’re not the one who should be apologising.” You return your attention back to the sea. “Becoming a marine was never your dream; it was mine.”

It was true. A younger and selfish you had forced Luffy into sharing a dream that was only truly ever yours, something you didn’t realise until you’d grown out of your childhood years and into your big girl pants.

When he’d come running to you one afternoon during your usual playdate session with a straw hat festooned with a single red sash attached to his head, announcing he’d gotten it from that red head pirate that’d come to town and followed it with the line that he was going to become the 'King of Pirates', you felt hurt—betrayed. 

His news to you had then escalated into a fight in which Luffy’s newly gifted hat got buried in the mud underneath your feet, him shouting that he hated you with a ruddy face, puffed with anger and with you declaring him your enemy, adding that if he did really become the King of pirates or even a pirate at all, you’d be the one to put him behind bars.

Your lips pull into a sad frown. “And I’m truly sorry that I took your hat...again.” You add with a whisper, recalling again when as a child, how you'd ripped the hat away from his grasp, how you’d tossed it in the mud— and how you’d trampled on it with your feet all while Luffy was screaming at the top of his voice for you to stop. 

Luffy looks over at you with a small smile. “It’s okay.” 

“No, it’s not!” You whip your head around, staring at him in disbelief. “I acted like an immature brat like I did that day, and because of it I lost you.” Your voice cracks. “ I…I don’t want to lose you again.”

Luffy notices you bite down on your lips and that your eyes begin to flood with unshed tears. 

The sight reminds him of back then when he’d told you he’d hated you and how a single tear had trickled its way down your face as you fought hard to stifle the rest.

“I missed our friendship Luffy…I missed you.”

Luffy felt his heart both ache and warm at your words.

He'd missed you to— Always had.

He'd thought about you everyday, since you'd left his town; the same day you no longer would be known as best friends. 

Losing you that day made him regret showing you the hat Shanks gave him and telling you his dream. Maybe he should have kept it a secret and if he did, maybe things would have been different—maybe your friendship would have lasted at least a little longer than it did. 

He’d thought that either that day would be the last he would see your face or that if he did see you again, you would be chasing after him from a marine warship. 

Apparently it was the latter. 

The initial feeling that bombarded him when he saw your face again was a heart-stopping surprise. But then a rush of other emotions accompanied it; guilt being the strongest, especially when the image of your crying face flickered to mind after he’d told you in a fit of rage how much he’d hated you.

Luffy points his gaze away from your own. “Back then when I said I hated you”—his hands ball into fists at the memory— “I didn’t mean it.”

You look at him with teary eyes. “R-Really?”

You can vividly recall that horrible moment when Luffy had uttered words you’d never imagined he would say to you, and which had brought tears to your eyes for weeks anytime you were to recall the memory.

Luffy looks at you, noticing your quivering lips and his starts doing the same. “Yeah, I do. I’m sor—” 

He’s barely finished with his response when you launch yourself at him, wrapping your arms around his neck and engulfing him in a tight hug.

“I miss you so much, Luffy, I really do.” You sob violently into his shoulder.

Luffy stills for a moment at your unanticipated action but soon relaxes, his gaze softening down at you as you continue to unleash a happy stream of tears.

He then slowly and gently wraps his own arms around you, burying his face against your shoulder as he feels his eyes brim with tears, his lips pulling into their usual wide smile. 

“Missed you a lot, too.”

© 2024 kana-daydreams

[cherrsnut]

Hostage - Chapter 1

Finnick Odair x Healer!Reader

Summary: Up until now, your life has been a solitary one. Being the sole owner of an herbal shop, and apothecary to many fishermen who have been injured. Just when your life seemed to follow the routine you were so used to, your life turns a 360 when you’re suddenly taken away for the 67th Annual Hunger Games. This turn of events forces you to accept the idea the Grim Reaper is stalking close behind you, faster than you had hoped for. 

Tags: Extremely Slow Burn, Eventual Smut, Angst, Typical THG Violence, Forced Prostitution, Forced Lab Rat, Injury, Mental Health Deterioration, Psychological/Physical Torture, Death, Alcohol/Drug Consumption, Medical Malpractice, Fluff (bc they deserve it).

Word Count: 3.8k

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Chapter 1

Silence echoed throughout the walls of the streets, and for once it looked like the town had been abandoned, just like everybody had agreed to up and leave it in search of a better fate than what lay ahead of them, or perhaps all the citizens just simply vanished from sight. The breeze of the sea, just as icy as the ocean, seemed to catch on with the mournful mood of the alleyways. The tense atmosphere signaled the hidden mice to not even voice a squeak out of respect. 

Even at the plaza, everyone was quiet, and their usually lively ambiance ceased to exist. Just by the sight of the ocean, you noticed just how the wind didn’t spare any mercy for all the attendees of the Reaping. Making this already melancholic ambiance much harder to ignore. 

You looked around and followed behind the big agglomeration of people queuing up, making another step further into Panem’s hell. You pursed your lips together and gulped down nervously, patiently awaiting your death sentence. 

There were people everywhere, too many people for it to be so quiet to your liking. Although the great majority were adolescents of the oceanic village, you had previously realized the older folks stood far behind you, their suppressed anxiety over their children’s safety due to the men in white, the Peacekeepers, stance in front of them. Their threatening military pattern removed any type of confidence of any caregiver to sneak in and take their child away without facing heavy repercussions. Stationed there to install and make the proceedings of the Hunger Games go as smoothly as possible from outside the Capitol. 

The sea of heads that appeared in front of you made the stage barely visible, but you came across what looked like a Peacekeeper setting up a camera, of course, the Reaping was to be live-streamed. Just on top of a platform and above the stage, you were sure the crystal lenses would take up the view of all the adolescents present. 

“Everything will be alright” You turned to look beside you, surprised to find a voice breaking the quietness you were starting to getting used to and assume it would prevail for the rest of the annual event. At least before the cries of children as they break their realization of being chosen, or the burning point of a mother’s distress breaks out in a horrible scream. 

You assumed it was a pair of siblings, taking notice of the facial traits to be almost identical. Very blonde locks, both wearing the same warm coffee color eyes with freckles of the same hue spotted all other cheeks. And while they represented themselves in the body of the other gender, you found the boy to look somewhere about your age, his sister was a head smaller than him, and you thought it was plausible she just came of age for the nauseating event. 

“I promise” he made an oath to his sister, interlocking his finger with hers. She breathed heavily, the limit of her sanity crossing over a soon-to-be panic attack. She tried to fixate her eyes on him, fighting off a barrier to gain herself back together, a battle she looked like she was going to lose. Her brother, which you finally recalled his name to be Philip, crouched down and enveloped her in his arms. An arm protectively around her back, while the other moved around her head in an attempt to massage it to calm her down. 

Even in his arms, the little girl was visibly trembling, probably both from the fear and anxiety, that were purging an acidic bile up to her taste glands. The little girl’s forehead pressed on her brother's chest, finding comfort in his protective body. 

“Just breathe deeply, ‘kay?” he reassured. His hard fingers were full of little lines of scars, some of which you could recall treating at the herbal shop, and crept up to hold her face. Philip always found himself surrounded by District’s 4 aquaculture, and it was bound to happen after long shifts handling the wires of the nets to eventually cause multiple physical damages. 

Philip removed himself from the little girl and looked at her features. She struggled to do so, every time she tried she’d be under attack from another uncontrollable shaking. She could only grab onto his shirt, the shaking becoming increasingly harder with each passing second. The hand that was used to the hard labor of the sea, wrapped itself on top of his sister’s hand, much bigger in comparison. The warmth of their bond calmed her down just slightly, and he went to kiss her forehead affectionately. 

“I’m here” his whisper was carried by the breeze that brushed her ear, which tickled her slightly. Upon noticing your heavy stare on them, Philip looked over to you. Both of your eyes interlock with each other. You tried to give him an encouraging smile, but the heavy situation still weighed you down, and your smile came across as a sad one. One that showed pity and understanding toward his sister. 

He gave you a knowing look, before his eyes went to his sister, and suffocated further in his embrace to help her to get back to the queue. “I’m here” he repeated. 

The stern voice of a woman, announcing a “next” brought you back to reality. You’d forgotten just how the line always moved rather fast, especially so when you had a tendency to drown yourself in self-pity. You were always alone while queuing up to sign in, and never had people you called friends. But you were content with the short company clients or injured patients gave you, just like Edna’s until she died. But you did wonder how it would feel in this moment to be in the company of another person, would you cry together? Maybe hug each other? Or maybe just stay silent unable to utter anything that wasn’t bitter. But this year you felt differently, you wished for the little girl’s safety just like your own.

You gave your hand to the Peacekeeper just as you told her your name, and she took it with the rubber texture of the black-gloved hand of hers. The way she held it was rather rough, but you understood it as wanting to keep you completely still for the pinch in your finger and not mess it up. The end of the buzzing sound coming from the long mechanism suggested the dna withdrawal was finished, accompanied by the slight pain of the tiny nick, so small you’d never consider it an injury. 

The Peacemaker guided your finger, a blood drop visible forming, and pressed it on top of the inky empty box drawn on a piece of paper. Your name was attached next to it, with your general information written in smaller letters below it. You assumed the pieces of paper that were attached just like a book, were the enlistment of the possible Tributes of your District. But then again, you didn’t care enough and let that thought drift away just as fast as it came. 

Another mechanism, this one much larger and formed just like a box had been stepped and decided to stay in that flat shape. A laser came from the bottom, scanning the blood accompanied by the noisy sounds of mechanical beepings. When it was all set, the Peacemaker simply bid you farewell and called for the child behind you. 

You left defeated, another step closer to the selection process. The idea of you being chosen terrified you, and you could feel the anxiety taking hold of your bones. You prayed again in self-pity. Edna always mentioned the idea of sirens existing, and while you never truly believed in it, you prayed for them to listen to you. Every time, at the Reaping, for the past four years you prayed for them.

With an exasperated sigh flying out, you walked around the plaza trying to find a place to stand by and wait for your trial. That was until a hand tapped your shoulder and a raspy voice called out your name. You turned, even more surprised to find Philip along with his sister, both holding hands. 

You looked at the boy standing in front of you, expectant as to why he had called you. He gave a quick glance to the little blonde beside him before he spoke.

“Hey, umm, you mind taking Emi with you?” your eyes trailed off to the girl, finally being able to give her face a name. Emi looked at the floor, a mortifying expression coming across her face. 

“It’s just-” he tried to continue his explanation. 

“Sure” you smiled at the girl gripping onto dear life to her brother. You took out your hand for her, and with unsettlement pumping over her brain, she brushed her finger across yours. 

“So, Emi is your name” The statement oddly sounded like a question, but you wanted to make her feel more comfortable even in this terrible situation. To communicate with her, and make her see you as someone she could trust momentarily before she would hopefully turn back with her brother. 

Her crystal eyes moved up to you and murmured an mhm before walking indecisively toward you. She looked at the ground when you told her your name, but you couldn’t feel any type of annoyance by it, not when her hands were trembling exaggeratedly. So you squeezed hers lightly in an attempt to make her feel more at ease in your presence. 

Philp sighed and you noticed the heavy burden that lifted off of him. He gave you a small smile, the one he hadn’t reciprocated before. 

“Thank you” his eyes shone, which only suggested to you the tears he wanted to pour out in that moment. You empathized with him, he probably didn’t have much time to take in the Reaping for himself, and rather give away his attention to his sister who needed him to be strong in her stead. A thought appeared one which you respected and showed sympathy for the mental work they put in for the sake of the younger family members. 

“Don’t mention it” you smiled with him. You rolled your eyes at the girl holding your hand, and with the same smile, you muttered. “Let’s go Cupcake”

“Hello Cuties” Sing sang the woman on stage. Her peculiar fashion style nationally known for the Capital’s trends flied around with her sparkling personality. With the color theme of purple pink and pale yellow, shades lighter of the sunflower petals, she wore a design that resembled a kimono. The notable way how the coat of the fabric was placed on top of the other to keep it in a steady place, and with the addition of the belt, covering the whole of the waist until just below her chest, as a means to keep the clothing stuck and not untie itself. The completely yellow obi, name of the kimono belts, was adorned with some sort of lacing at the top and bottom of purplish-dyed sheep wool, with the addition of a pink bow wrapped around the obi. 

The star of the fashion design was the sleeves. With a hole showing the shoulders and a few inches down the arm, the rest was covered in the beautiful colors of the spring. With many odd shapes and colors on the fabric. Which later opened up its sleeves up to three feet long. It gave off the impression of wings when the arms were pulled up. The rest seemed to just be decorations around her figure, from a fabric choker of purple as well as the striking head ornaments of the same color scheme presented. 

Her voice was too optimistic for your liking, and the singing tunes brought up were as distasteful as her color choice. 

“Happy Hunger Games, and may the odds be in your favor” The District 4 escort celebrated baring her teeth out with that pink tint across her lips, the same tint that decorates her eye shadow.

“But before we begin, The Capitol has brought us a special film for us” she again songed, and you were already starting to be filled with the irritation of her voice. 

Emi was still holding your hand. She had kept a close distance from you, practically stuck to your form from the moment we were placed here. She tugged onto your long skirt, and you looked down to find her somber eyes looking up at you. Although you agreed to stay by her side, her added melancholy was starting to affect your already distressed mood, and even though you tried to calm her down she seemed focused on her overwhelmed state. 

You smiled at her, with the film starting in ahead of you. 

“War. Terrible war” You rolled your eyes up while making a hand movement in a sign to poke fun at President Snow’s repeated speech. Your mock seemed to finally crack a little smile on the little girl, and you were pleased to see her relax a tiny bit. 

The film carried on, and your attention span had been but all gone. The Hunger Games were a devastating reality, that had already taken hundreds of children away. You couldn’t see the point of this little speech anymore, and right before the selection process at that. And it seemed Snow was trying to ridicule the Distrct’s anxiety. It exhausted you to no end to have to listen to the same words and the same images, and it got you wondering just why it had to be the same recycled film every single year. 

You thought of Emi again. The very same thought appeared every single year, just why were we taking the consequences of a revolution none of us partook in? The only person that you knew who was alive from when the Revolution was still afloat was Edna, and she still lamented that she was just a child when it ended, and luckily enough she never got chosen as Tribute. And that thought only led to helplessness because even though it wasn’t in the least bit fair, there was nothing you nor anyone who would be able to do anything about it. 

“The lone victor, bathed in riches, would serve as a reminder of our generosity and our forgiveness” It was the voice of a pragmatic leader giving a speech, sprinkled with sentimental music that made your stomach stir uncomfortably. The crease in your eyebrow knitting as you tried to forget the nauseating feeling from inside you, represented exactly in your self turmoil, you were disgusted. 

You gulped down hard as the film finally ended. You gave Emi a quick squeeze to comfort yourself. She only gave you a pointed glance before directing her attention to the colorful escort on the stage. 

“Alrighty. Now the time has come for us to select one courageous young man and woman” she informed, as you bit back your tongue to correct her misuse of words of man and woman for children. 

“For the honor of representing District 4 in the 67th Annual Hunger Games” she continued. She then started walking over the large crystal sphere. Inside laid the names of all the girls that had been forced to sign in, inside a folded piece of paper. “Ladies first” she giggled further. 

Her hand moved around the pieces of paper messily scattered around the sphere before choosing one. She quickly picked it up to her eye level, a sneaky smile appearing on her face. 

You let out a breath, you had done your best to try and calm your nerves. The anxiety was way past the boiling point, and you swore your legs felt drunk. 

The escort walks back to the microphone, and the only thing missing for her to further mock your emotions was to make a little dance around the platform, kick up some moves, or simply jump in excitement.

She opened the piece of paper. Your heart beating fast in the back of your throat, as another wave of anxiety filled every single pore in your skin. Her long nails made it difficult for her to open it, and as time passed on, you could feel yourself growing insane. You internally cursed at the escort, every cell in your body screaming at her to just finally read it. And before you knew it she called out a name, your name. 

Everything just stopped in you, and if it weren’t because you’d be a dead corpse from organ malfunction, you could’ve sworn your heart just stopped. Your eyes were locked on the colorful woman, but you weren’t looking at her. You were staring into space, you were trying to assimilate the situation you just got yourself involved. But you couldn’t, there was something in you, and that something didn’t connect the wires that you were going to die sooner than you hoped for. The idea of being picked for the annual event was always at the back of your mind, what would be your reaction? You thought that rationally, you’d be upset, maybe crying as well, or perhaps straight screaming and begging to do a re-drawl. 

But you weren’t, you were simply still. The look of every girl that had known you looking at you, and it wasn’t melancholy that invaded their intense gaze, but rather they were grateful they weren’t the ones chosen. As hypocritical as it made you, you were mad at them. Your internal anger was justified in your eyes, maybe because you needed someone or something to be mad at. But no matter how irritated you were, you’d done the same in their stead the previous three years you had attended the Reaping. 

With another exhale, you came to yourself. You needed to get on the stage. You walked out to the corridor, but barely made a step when Emi tugged back on your fingers. Her eyes were scanning your facial expression. And the way she spoke your name suggested to you, she was beyond her shocked stage.

You gulped another chunk of saliva and got to your knees. You smiled at her, as brightly as you could force it out. And it occurred to you to close your eyes, because you knew you couldn’t force a reassuring look without the fear lurking behind it. 

The military steps of the Peacekeepers echoed within every corner of your body so quickly and in a rushed matter. You kissed her forehead, as gentle as a flying feather, to put her at ease. 

“I’ll be fine, Cupcake,” you told her as confident as possible, trying not to let the fear accumulated in you spill over the beautiful young girl. And so you stood up, another quick smile flashing over your face before walking the hall that would send you straight to a living Hell. You kept muttering those words “I’ll be fine” as if you wanted to console yourself unknowingly. For now, if lying to yourself is what kept you sane enough to act normally, even suspiciously so, you’d go for it. And once the situation avalanched over your entity, you could collapse and lament for yourself on your own.

You held your head high while walking, your form an empty shell void of any emotions. The very pink hue colored on the escort’s face became clearer with each step, she smiled brightly at you. The wrinkles shown at the corner of her eyes signal of her enjoyment. 

“Wonderful! We have our female Tribute for District 4!” playfully expressed the escort, looking straight at your eyes. You walked up the stairs, with Peacekeepers in tow behind you.  

The escort held up a hand to you, helping you get up faster, so she could back to her selecting process, although this time it would be a boy. All in her chillingly joyful manner. 

Without hesitation, she placed the mic in front of you. 

“So, dear, tell me, was that your sister?” she asked you, although it seemed she was asking on behalf of the whole Capitol. 

“No…” your voice was weak, the intimidating audience just looked up at you which worsened your nauseating bitter taste. The escort eyed you, waiting for any further explanation.

“She’s my… friend” Her impatience only made your voice quieter, which she must have been content that your husky and throaty tone was speaking through the loud microphone. 

The sudden realization came crashing now. Seeing the look of pitied people just below you, wishing you luck before you left for the Capitol, filled the shining of water in your sclera and, you hand was lightly shaking beside your thigh. 

“Everyone, please! A round of applause for our lovely Tribute!” she called your name again. Her clapping was soon stopped at the awkwardness that she was the only one celebrating this. You breathed in and out heavy air. 

“And now, for the gentlemen” announced the woman standing beside you. Of course, she was trying to salvage the situation. You looked at everyone, and they were all looking back at you. You were lucky enough to connect eyes with Philip, and while you never considered him to be a friend, you were happy to see a familiar face. He was the only one to provide you with that comfort. He looked like he wanted to say something through his eyes, and you responded with a tear swimming down your cheek, and following its path further down your neck. 

“Vito Rosechaser” was called. The look of another adolescent, about your age or older roamed around his fellow friends, that gave him a sad look. He opened his mouth, surprised, and as the situation sunk deep into him, he walked down the hall, again with the Peacekeepers around him like frustrating flies.

Just then you’d taken in his appearance, from afar his eyes seemed dark just like his hair. Big build and muscles that suggested he’d worked hard in his life, and you lamented that he propably didn’t deserve this.

You looked at Vito at the end of the stairs, and his eyes briefly grazed yours before he stopped to look at the public. The mic was stolen from you.

“And finally” the hyper tone echoed throughout the plaza, loud enough to quiet down the crashing waves of the beach nearby. The breeze cold as snow felt like it had punctured your veins, and that icy hurt traveled through your body. 

“Our Tributes from District 4” her white teeth never failed to show at the camera. 

“Come on you two, shake hands” The oddly dressed woman grabbed onto the hems of your and Vito’s shirts, encouraging you two to do the action and let it be over. She stepped back, and the both of you looked at each other before gripping both of your hands. 

“Happy Hunger Games!” she sang happily. It echoed in every single rib, deep inside your abdomen. A voice you’d never forget, you were sure of that. Even long after the Games, if you’d even be able to survive, you’d be waking up with this chilling lullaby she was singing. 

“And remember, may the odds be ever in your favor” 

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[itmeansiris]

The Solar System Legacy Challenge: Lieutenant Gen 1 pt.94

Brindleton's finest returned to the precinct after their visit to the hospital. While they were gone, officer Till and the desk clerk managed to get Paris booked, which proved to be time-consuming. During the process, they came across her extensive wrap sheet. Her Brindelton record was mostly misdemeanors for disorderly conduct and DUIs, but her San Myshuno record was at least 3 pages long and held some pretty violent crimes and that didn't include the portions that seemed to have been redacted or needed special clearance to access.

Of course, she behaved as expected. Officer Till ended up needing to take her mugshot more than once, having to remind her repeatedly that it wasn't a photoshoot. After a few too many "test shots" she finally cooperated. Annoyed, he hastily ushered her over to the fingerprint scanner.

Officer Till: Hold still. I don’t feel like doing this twice.

As Till finished up, Adler ran into Lieutenant Gordon as he wandered into the lobby.

Ofc Adler: Good evening Lieutenant, busy week huh. Were you…on your way out?

Conrad sighed, the crease in his brow said it all. Brindleton PD had been busier than usual. Crime in the bay was usually non-existence, but lately, trouble had been brewing all over. There was a continued issue with dock security and then a body had turned up. There were hushed whispers amongst the higher shields that the Cartel could be involved, but Alder didn’t go snooping where he wasn’t welcomed.

He also didn't want to add to Conrad's already full plate, but he’d told Kason he would get help. The chief was in, so who better than Brindleton PD's rising star.

Ofc Adler: If not, do you have a couple minutes to spare? I know you're busy, but something happened when we went to the hospital.

Conrad mentally groaned. He already had some much to do, but he held a slight personal interest considering his stepson attended the same school as the Gratz kids.

Lieu. Gordon: Sure, I was going to hit the bags upstairs. We can talk there.

After he briefed Lieutenant Gordon on the matter, Adler excused himself beelining for the holding cells, leaving Conrad alone to pummel the punching bags in the weight room. It was evident that the Lieutenant was taking out his frustrations on the bag and Adler wanted to give him the privacy he was desperately craving. When he reached the area housing the cells he slowed his pace, checking each one for the wily Redhead. He stopped at the last cell lining the row, inside Paris sat on the sole cot in a bare cell, but an officer was unlocking the door.

Alder: What the hell are you doing? What's going on? Why are you moving her?

Officer: Detective Hana told me to take her to interrogation 2. Take it up with him.

Adler: Since when has Detective Hana called the shots here? Does the Chief know? I will.

Paris entered the scarcely furnished room. Detective Hana stood from his seat and gestured to the only other seat in the room.

Det. Hana: Ms. Amyot, please have a seat.

Paris looked around the room in boredom.

Paris: Do you have my cigarettes?

Det. Hana: You can’t smo-

Paris: My cigarettes.

He sighed while reaching to remove an unopened box from his pocket and relinquished it to Paris along with a book of matches.

Paris: Good boy.

Detective Hana bit back a response to her taunting comment. He folded his arms and donned a stonic expression hoping to appear unfazed.

Det. Hana: Now, Ms. Amyot I’d like-

Paris: Cut the detective act Kane. What do you want?

Det. Hana: I want to know what happened.

Paris: I thought that was squared away. Didn’t you talk to him?

Hana fidgeted before briefly glancing at the mirror on the wall to his right.

Det. Hana: I don't know what you mean.

Paris: YOU were supposed to SPEAK to Kason, Kane. I swear to the watcher you people are useless.

Det Hana: Ms. Amyot, first I'll have to ask you to refrain from using my first name. Next, I'm asking the questions and I want you to tell me what happened.

Paris: Are you some kind of an idiot? Didn’t you talk to my father?

Det. Hana: You can make a phone call once we are done here. I will try and get someone to contact your family in the meantime, but I need you to please answer my questions. We don’t have much time.

Hana's words came out forced and a light sheen of sweat had broken out across his skin as his eyes darted to the right, the last bit of the sentence he’d mouthed. Paris looked over at the mirror and then back at Hana. His distress finally registered but it only made Paris irritable.

Paris: Seriously? I forgot about the two-way glass. Why should I care who’s on the other side?

Hana's eyes grew pledging. Paris stared at the window as she took a drag of her cigarette, that all too familiar grin on her face.

Paris: Fine I'll play along, but I want to speak to my father Detective, tonight. What do you want to know?

Det. Hana: Start with how you know the Gratz.

Paris: I worked with Kason at Bay Robotics. Mars was just an annoyance I inherited when I got the job and the guy.

Det. Hana: Mars?

Paris: Mercury. Mars. Whatever! Who the hell names their kid after a space rock. Her parents must be hippies or something.

He ignored her rant trying to stay on topic.

Det. Hana: When did you "Get the guy" as you put it?

Paris: Our attraction was instant, but I kept my distance for a while cause I knew he was married. Once we went to Newcrest alone I couldn't resist anymore and he let me know it didn't matter that he was married because he wanted out anyway.

Det. Hana: Were you and Mr.Gratz..intimate on this trip?

Paris: oh Kane, wouldn't you like to know. Let's just say we got to know each other better.

She whispered to ensure anyone outside the room wouldn't hear her. A light blush spread across Hana's cheeks.

Det. Hana: Was that when the two of you became an official couple?

Paris: Yes and no. We were official, but we weren't public. He hadn't left his wife yet, obviously. But we were official in all the ways that counted Detective.

Detective Hana balled his hands into tight fist, visibly agitated by her last statement.

Det. Hana: Let's move on. Tell me when you and Mrs. Gratz had your first face-to-face encounter.

Paris: That's easy. The bitch showed up at the airport like a dog in heat. The moment we landed she was waiting outside the gate with her tongue out and her tail wagging.

Det. Hana: Did you exchange any words at that time?

Paris: Sure, but nothing I can remember now.

Hana nodded.

Det. Hana: Did you and Mr.Gratz maybe discuss when he was going to leave his wife? Didn't you wonder what was going to happen with his children? I can't imagine you raising anyone.

He scoffed.

Paris: What did you say?

Hana realized he'd allowed that last comment to slip out and scrambled to cover it up.

Det Hana: I just meant that you seem young to suddenly become stepmother to 4 small children is all. You would have to give up so much.

Paris's eyes narrowed and her tone was harsh.

Paris: Watch yourself detective. I'm not the only one who has done unspeakable things. I'm sure there are people who couldn't imagine you making detective first-grade. Yet here you are. I'm sure they would interested in how you achieved such a feat.

As the interrogation continued, Lieutenant Gordon received a text from Adler as he heated a frozen pastry from the precincts readily stocked but dubious selection of foods from the fridge. It was late and he'd been chasing ghost all day on another case, but the text had him shoveling the poorly heated pastry down his throat in a rush to get to the interrogation room. The text read:

Alder: Kane's has her in interrogation .Detective Wilks, and Hale are sitting in with me, but you should probably get down here, something doesn't seem right.

When Conrad arrived outside the observation room it was full. Adler stood behind an empty chair, arms folded across his chest with a frown. Conrad surveyed the small group trying to get a feel of their intentions, they all wore expressions ranging from confused to frustrated as they all watched the scene playing out behind the two-way mirror.

Lieu. Gordon: What’s going on in there?

Detective Wilks stood at the back of the room his brown hair was disheveled from raking his hand through it one too many times. Wilks didn’t take his eyes off the glass as he answered, obviously vexed by the circumstances.

Det. Wilks: It would seem, Detective Hana has decided for the entire department that he would be the one doing the Amyot interview. I’d like to know who gave him permission? The Chief made it clear: get her paperwork done and then she'd assign someone to do the interrogation tomorrow.

They all murmured in agreement.

Lieu. Gordon: No one cleared him. Amyot wasn’t supposed to have contact with anyone of us until tomorrow.

Det. Hale: Clearance isn't the only issue here Lieu.

Det. Wilks: Should we stop him, Lieutenant?

Lieutenant Gordon: No. I need to see what happens before we do anything else.

Conrad took a seat in the empty chair in front of Alder, listening intently to the conversation filtering into the speakers that connected the observation room to the interrogation room. Hana hadn’t thought to turn them off, causing Conrad to hesitate with his suspicions. Any level officer would have thought to turn off the microphone, so maybe he wasn’t hiding anything.

Paris: I told him we could let their grandparents adopt them, his or hers. It made no difference to me honestly, but he said that wouldn’t work. He's only entitled to part of her life's earnings, if they didn’t go too we wouldn’t get all the money. The kids have the larger share, thus how they became included in the deal. I'm no brat killer, but he insisted. He might as well have been foaming at the mouth as he talked about it. How could I say no?

Det. Hana: Would you have jumped off a bridge or killed yourself if he had asked Pa- Ms. Amyot?

Paris: Hmm? Maybe I would have. Have you seen him? Blonde hair, green eyes, athletic build without being too muscular and have you heard him speak, uugh it’s like honey over a fresh piece of bread, deep and rich. What about that says to say no.

She shrugged as she took another long drag from her cigarette. Kane fanned his hand through the air trying to clear some of the smoke away.

Det. Hana: Ugh, do you need to smoke that?

Paris: Yes. Next question.

Det. Hana: Why were you the one put up to the task? I mean from what you said, it was his idea. So why didn't he do the dirty work? He had constant access to his wife and the kids. Wouldn't it have been easier for him to kill his own family?

Paris: Let's just say I was better suited for the job. You should know. Besides they always blame the husband first, how could I let him take the blame for it all.

She droned in an antagonizing tone.

Det. Hana: At least in this instant we would have had it right and you...you would have been off the hook. Clear and free to live your life and love whoever you wanted after, but now...

Lieu. Gordon: Am I the only one getting the sense they know each other?

Ofc Adler: That's what I was telling Hale before you showed up. Something is going on between them. Amyot was calling him Kane like they’re old friends.

Det. Hale: I wouldn’t call their interaction friendly, but they are definitely familiar with one another.

She interjected.

Ofc Adler: She also mentioned him speaking to Mr. Gratz at the hospital. She couldn’t have known he was going to interview Gratz, we were assigned the task after she arrived. She never could have known it would be him, there are at least 5 other detectives here.

Lieu.Gordon: Unless he’s working with her somehow. Did anyone see Hana interact with Amyot when she arrived? We need to be absolutely sure. In the meantime, I'm putting an end to this charade before he puts the whole department at risk. Wilks, put Amyot back in holding with the other ladies. I want a transcript of their interview on my desk tomorrow morning, and someone check the camera's, we can't let this interview ruin the investigation so we need to get ahead of this. I'm going to have a word with Hana.

Det. Hana: So after all that what do you get out of the deal? Hmm? The kids are alive and for the moment so is his wife, so there goes the money. He's out there, free and worried about his family not you, while you're here in a bleak grey room wearing an orange jumpsuit. You said you did this all so you and him could be together, yet I don't see him in our precinct demanding you be freed. So was it worth it? Was he everything you hoped for?

Paris finally took a seat. She slowly pulled out another cigarette and slid it between her lips. She struck the match against the book that Hana had given her, engulfing the cigarette end with the small orange flame. She took a pull and blew the smoke in Detective Hana's direction as she ashed the tip onto the floor with no regard. He coughed and swiped his hand threw the air in disgust, trying to clear the smoke once more.

Paris: Detective, have you ever been in love? [Blows smoke] I mean the kind that your body understands before your brain. Where you can't sleep or eat. The thought of living without that person isn't even an option? I guess not considering the lack of a ring on your finger and the fact that you are working late during the holidays. I can assume that means there isn't anyone at home keeping the bed warmed up for you.

She taunted as she donned her usual nefarious smile.

Paris: You see love can make you do things you normally wouldn't. I'm a very passionate woman Detective. When I love, I love hard. Very few men have had and will have the pleasure of being loved by me. You know how that feels don’t you Kane.

Det. Hana: Sounds like you’re borderline obsessed if you ask my opinion. Maybe you made this whole thing up because he didn’t want you after all.

He snapped back. His patience was wearing thin and he was starting to losing his cool the more she mocked him.

Paris: Obsessed! Now that’s priceless coming from you, considering the way you chas-

Det. Hana: Shut your mouth!

He called out through clenched teeth just as the door shut with a heavy thud.

Lieu. Gordon: No Ms. Amyot please finish. I'd like to hear the end of that statement.

Hana: Lieutenant Gordon!

Hana tried to mask his surprise. Before Conrad could ask him a question he started babbling an explanation.

Det. Hana: I was just trying to get a start on the Amyot, Gratz case. Wanna be sure we don't miss anything. Plus the desk clerk said they had some issues with her, I was hoping to straighten them out.

Lieu. Gordon: With who's authorization?

Det. Hana: Well.. I just... No ones, sir. But, I was sent to take Mr. Gratz's statement so I figured I was assigned to be lead on this case.

When Hana and Adler had been sent to speak to Kason at the hospital the chief had simply assigned them to gather his statement and return. Detective Hana had never officially been assigned to the case, but it hadn't stopped him from telling everyone including Kason that he was the lead detective.

Lieu. Gordon: Detective Wilks will be here shortly to escort Ms. Amyot to holding. Meet me upstairs.

Det. Hana: But, I haven't finished the-

Conrad's expression stopped him mid sentence.

Det. Hana: Yes sir. I should let Wilks know she should be put in the empty holding cell at the end.

Conrad's frown deepened to a scowled.

Lieu. Gordon: She is to be put in a shared holding cell with the other ladies. Unless, there’s a reason you’ve separated her from the others?

Det. Hana: N-no sir.

Lieu. Gordon: Good. Then lets go. This interview is over.

Hana hesitated as Conrad held the door and waited for him to exit first. Conrad pulled the door shut behind him without a word to Paris, leaving her to wait for detective Wilks to come and fetch her.

Upstairs in an empty office Conrad laid into Hana.

Lieu.Gordon: Do you have any idea what you've potentially done?! That interview and the sketchy one at the hospital could be the difference between a landslide win and a dog fight in court. How do you know her?

Det. Hana: I don't. I was simply doing my job.

He answered defiantly.

Lieu. Gordon: A job no one assigned to you. You took it upon yourself to interview a suspect you were not asked to. Not to mention your very interesting trip to the hospital, where you were supposed to take a statement, but instead turned a victim into a suspect. Where did you get any of that information from Kane? No one was supposed to speak to Ms. Amyot from the time she was in custody, we were all informed of that. So how could you have her side of the story already?

Detective Hana stared back at Conrad with a look of distain, but said nothing.

Lieu. Gordon: Okay, fine. You're officially off the case. I don't want to see you anywhere near Ms. Amyot, Mr.Gartz, or anything related to their case. Do I make myself clear?

Hana gave a slight head nod in response, but that wasn't the response the Lieutenant was looking for. He wanted to be sure Kane understood.

Lieu. Gordon: Have I made myself clear? I don’t even want you to review evidence for their case.

Det. Hana: Loud and clear. Sir.

Conrad dismissed Kane and stood alone for a moment. He took a deep breath trying to center himself. The last couple of months had been stressful he didn't need the extra headache. That didn't deter him from his next task. He headed back downstairs where Paris had been escorted to the shared holding cell, which was crowded with 4 other women who were down on their luck that evening. He approached the gate stopping about five feet away.

Lieu. Gordon: Ms. Amyot, I have one question for you. How do you know Detective Kane Hana?

Paris: Who says that I do?

Conrad rolled his shoulders to ease some of the built up tension.

Lieu Gordon: Don't insult my intelligence, Ms. Amyot. I just want to know how you know Detective Hana. If you don't want to share I will go.

Paris: Professionally or personally?

She asked with a wicked gleam in her eyes.

Lieu. Gordon: I get the feeling they go hand and hand with you. Both.

Instead of answering, she pivoted in a different direction.

Paris: Maybe I'd like to get to know you Lieutenant, during which time I’d be more than happy to tell you everything I know about Kane Hana. I just need to make a phone call first. I think you can help me with that. Can't you Lieutenant Gordon?

Her tone grew heavy with seduction. Conrad held is ground, unaffected by her attempts at seducing him and unwavering in his position. He both wanted and needed answers to this question and he wouldn't be distracted.

When he didn't respond Paris took that as a no. Her smile dropped and she flipped him the bird. Gone was the seductive eyes and flirty tone she'd been using previously and in its place was the hateful snake she truly was.

Paris: Too bad. Guess you're on your own Lieutenant. I could have showed you a nice time, but apparently you’re another tightly wound officer of the law. So, I’ll save this treat for someone a little more daring. You can leave now.

She winked and her cackle bounced off the open space as Conrad turned his back on her. Paris's voice stalked him down the hall.

Paris: Send Kane back when he's ready to do his job properly, or you could always come back for a visit Lieutenant.

He left the holding area with more questions than answers, but two things became very clear: One, Paris needed to be supervised. She was such a wild card. Two, Hana couldn’t be allowed near Paris and her case or he could jeopardize everything.

Previous Next

Beginning

Sidebar: Lieutenant Conrad Gordon is from the amazing @abbysimsfun Sims in Bloom Legacy. . There are links to her story everywhere! But the link here is for the start of her amazing legacy story. Thank you again for allowing Conrad to be the protector of all Brindleton Bay citizens!

The Brindleton Police station build can be found on the gallery with No CC. It was created by ssweet_simmingg. Its listed as a residential lot.

[skipper19]

Imagine this..

Keigo quietly sulks into your shared bedroom, already having left his visor and jacket, along with his boots, resting by the front door. He swiftly removed his shirt and pants, only his boxers remaining, as he tried to gently lay behind you on the inviting bed.

He wished you were awake, a selfish thought, seeing as it was 3 a.m., and he knew you tried your best to stay up for him. Keigo gently wraps his arms around your body and spoons you close to his chest. His warm breath fanned across your neck, and you scooted that bit closer to him in result. Keigo sighs and tucks his nose into your hair. He loved that familiar scent. It consumed him, reminded him that he was home, he was with you.

Keigo felt his muscles relax, and his wings sag off the bed behind him. Keigos hand traveled to caress your collarbone, tiredly smiling when he felt the feather rest peacefully on your skin. His finger rubbed soothing circles into your supple flesh. Keigo shakily inhaled as he relished in the love he felt in the moment.

You were the most loving, supportive, kind, and loyal girlfriend he could ask for. He never had to worry about coming home to a cold bed and a cup of ramen, not that you lived with him now. The atmosphere that enveloped him when he stepped foot into your shared home always put his mind at ease. Hawks was able to rest, while Takami Keigo was able to spread his wings and be himself. All the while, you were waiting there with open arms, ready to hold him close and love him unconditionally.

There have been so many times you proved that you loved him. Loved him for the comedian with bedhead and comfortable clothes instead of the charismatic winged hero everyone else saw him as. You have patched him up more times than he could count, paper cut to bullet wounds, and yet you never deterred from his side. He was so scared he would push you away because of his hero life.

The commission had always told him that he never needed a partner. The idea of a lover would blind him and steer his focus on what is important. Not only this, but he couldn't possibly balance his love life and hero life. Anyone he chose to bring into his life and hold dear to his heart would be ripped to shreds by the cruel world, and he would always be weak to protect them. This thought, this fear that the commission instilled into his head since he was a young boy, has never once left his brain.

But Keigo couldn't help himself from being selfish. He met you in an odd circumstance. He didn't save you, but the other way around. It was no life or death situation, but it was still important. Keigo was in such a rush to get to his meeting with the newest recruit, but he had to have his coffee. The only coffee he enjoyed was from the Voler Librement Oiseau café downtown. Of course, it had to be so far away from his agency, but he needed his morning coffee, or he would be grumpy.

After Keigo ordered his drink (and tried to politely excuse himself from his fans), he hurriedly rushed from the small shop. Unfortunately, he had a one track mind in the moment, and he didn't see the cute girl trying to enter the shop the moment he was leaving. The second he stepped foot from the building, his body collided with another smaller frame, and in a rush of adrenaline, he reached forward to grab the other person in an effort to stop their fall. This was obviously the wrong move to make, seeing as he reached out the hand holding his coffee.

A loud yelp, followed by a body hitting the ground, abruptly interrupted the once peacful morning air. People passing by spared glances yet kept walking. Others slowed down and pulled out their phones.

Keigos wings stiffened behind him, and his breath hitched in his throat. His hands froze midair as heat rushed his cheeks in embarrassment. A woman sat on the pavement below him, coffee stains ruining her barista uniform, and a pained expression etched on her face. Keigo quickly kneeled down and laid his hands on your shoulders.

"Hey, are you alright?" He gently asked. Your eyes opened and peered up at him. Your eyes glanced around at the people who had chosen to stop and record this embarrassing moment. Keigo noticed your discomfort and used his wings to shield you both from other view.

"Hey," He softly called once again. Your attention finally snapped to his gaze, and you shakily exhaled. "Are you alright?" You nervously gulped your nerves and nodded. "Y-yeah, I'm alright." You sent him a small smile and rubbed your eyes with your shoulder. "Are you?" You mumbled. Keigos' wings twitched behind him, and he glanced down to your reddened palms along with your stained clothes.

"Am I..?" He trailed off. Your hand reached up and traced the scratches on his hand where you wildly reached out to grab him before you fell. The scratches were bleeding, yet he hadn't noticed them until you pointed it out. "H-here," you mumbled as you reached into your bag. "My friend buys me bandaids all the time because I'm a bit.." You trailed off, embarrassed and flustered, as you pulled out a few bandaids. "Clumsy?" He finishes quietly.

You gulped and nodded as you began putting the small bandages on his hand. Keigo felt his shoulders tense, and his eyes narrowed in on your nimble fingers. He didn't know why he was so..guarded. No, he wasn't guarded, per se. He just didn't expect you to move so boldly with such a kind act towards someone like him. Sure, fans constantly hugged him and nagged him for pictures as he strolled down the street, but this was just different.

Genuine kindness, gentle movement, and nervous silence.

Soon enough, your hands retreated from his minor injuries and balled the trash up in your hands before looking back up to him. "I'm sorry for bumping into you, but I really need to go, first day on the job.." You nervously laughed and began standing up. Keigo unwrapped his wings from around you both and stood up with you. "Yeah, uh, I have to get going as well." He put on a charming smile as he cocked his head.

Keigo reciprocated your nod as you passed by him to enter the café. In a sudden act on impulse, Keigo stepped back and grabbed your arm. You looked back at him with surprise, and then a small smile tugged on your lips. "Yes?" You shyly asked.

Keigo cleared his throat (that had been so very dry) and dropped his grip on your arm. Instead, he offered his hand to you. "I'm Hawks, but you probably already know that." He smirked. You quirked your eyebrow and put your hand in his. He relished in the comparison between the softness of your skin and the callous of his. "I'm y/n. Why would I know who you are? Are you some big shot or something?" Your quiet voice teased him, obviously enjoying his increasingly reddening face.

His eyebrows shot up in surprise. "I-I mean..I'm, you know, the number two hero in Japan. I'm pretty popular?" His explanation turned more into a question the longer he talked, and you couldn't help but giggle. You flattened your uniform against yourself and gave him a teasing glance. "I'm not from around here, but it's been nice meeting you.. Hawks. Hopefully, we can see each other around some time soon." The last words you spoke before escaping to your first shift at your new job.

That was the day Takami Keigo met the love of his life. Along with earning the title of a regular at the small French café.

Tonight, in the moment, Keigo breathes in your presence. He couldn't help but get emotional. He knows you love him. He can feel your affection and love, no matter where or what time of the day. Keigos wings, despite being worn and tired thanks to the stress of the day, move to wrap around your warmth. He makes sure to wrap around you completely, his back facing the bedroom door as his strong arms keep you close.

Keigo curses under his breath when he feels himself grow hot under the sheets. He isn't too surprised. The love you pour onto him daily is enough to keep his libido high, no matter how physically drained he is. He doesn't bother waking you up. His baby bird needs her rest. He would feel such guilt if he stole your rest from you. A warm hand sneaks its way into your panties, cupping your sex and using the hold to pull your ass closer to his hips.

The movement causes you to stir slightly, but Keigo shushes you. "You're alright, baby bird." He softly reassured you. The calming voice soothed your mind, and you even leaned your head back, so now your head was tucked under his chin. Keigo smirked and kissed your head.

Krigo makes quick work to pull your panties down, along with his own boxers, before hesitating. He had done this many times before. He had your consent long before, but he didn't want to take his hand away from your warmth. Just cupping your pussy was enough. Was Keigo that desperate just for you? Yes, he was.

Keigo took his time. Keeping his hand cupping you while rutting his hips into your bare behind. Though eventually, Keigo found himself pushing his hard length into your warm cunt. He whined at the tight, warm, wet feel of you wrapped around him. It didn't matter if you were asleep. You ached for him just as much as he did for you.

[hawkdisaster]

Characters : Aegon II Targaryen, Helaena Targaryen Triggers warnings : Mention of a character death Words count : 1318 words Autor note : What can i say, aegon being able to be soft with Helaena and their children only is an headcanon so dear to me.

(Credit goes to @thecutestgrotto)

“ Though Blood and Cheese spared her life, Queen Helaena cannot be said to have survived that fateful dusk. Afterward she would not eat, nor bathe, nor leave her chambers, and she could no longer stand to look upon her son Maelor, knowing that she had named him to die. ”

He stopped in front of the doors. Just a few seconds, just enough to give him courage. Then he entered. Like every night since that terrible night, he had come to see her. He had promised her, even if his promise had been lost in the limbo of his sister-wife's broken mind. And just like every night, Helaena was prostrate in the corner of the room, a piece of cloth clutched in her hands. A blanket that had once belonged to Jaehaerys. Aegon's heart sank as he recognised the object, as he thought back to all those evenings when he had come to spend a little time with his sweet children before disappearing for the night, when he remembered his little boy falling peacefully asleep, carefully tucked into bed with that same blanket. A simple blanket was all that remained of their little boy, for his bed, his clothes and even his toys had been removed from the nursery. All traces of Jaehaerys' existence had been erased, as if he had never existed.

▬ Helaena ?

His sister didn't pay him the slightest attention, didn't give him the slightest glance and continued to stare blankly at the ground, her cheeks bathed in tears and meaningless words on her lips. Not the dragons. The rats. Helaena had tried to tell him, she had tried to warn him. And what had he done ? As always, he didn't listen. As always, he hadn't given a moment's thought to her fears. And here they were. Jaehaerys was dead, murdered in the cruellest of ways. Jaehaera was traumatised, waking every night screaming in terror as she called out her brother's name. And Maelor, although still too young to fully realise what had happened that night, cried out every day for a mother who could no longer even look him in the face without starting to sob and scream. He sat down on the floor beside her, taking care not to touch her. Whether it was him or anyone else, Helaena hated being touched. Their children were the only ones she could tolerate touching, and even that had been taken away from her. Helaena continued to chant, and he listened. That was all he could do for her now. Be present, even if his little sister never really seemed to realise he was there.

▬ I took Jaehaera and Maelor to the Dragonpit today. Jaehaera was glad to see Morghul again, and the Guardians say he'll soon be old enough to carry her. And Maelor... His egg seems to be getting more and more agitated, so perhaps it will hatch soon. They miss you Hel...

Most of the time, he just listened to Helaena talk. Silently, as if in some feeble attempt to apologise for having ignored her for so long. But sometimes he talked too. About anything and everything, about the progress of the war against their bitch of a sister, about rumours overheard at the corner of a corridor, about Dreamfyre pining for her rider, but more often than not, he talked about their children. And always, he begged her to come back, if only for them. For their children, who still needed their mother's love. For their own mother, who prayed for her every time. He never dared beg her to come back for him, too aware that Jaehaerys' death was partly his fault. If he had made sure that the guards were at their posts, if he had not gone off to get drunk and forgetful with his companions... If he had acted differently, their little boy would still be alive.

▬ They only want the boy... Poor soul... The rats...

Helaena suddenly panicked, pulling the blanket a little tighter around her, her gaze frantically scanning the room. In search, most likely, of the slightest rat tail. They only want the boy. That night, she had been forced to make a choice. Forced to choose which of their little boys should die to pay a debt demanded by their treacherous sister. A son for a son. Forced to choose, or see their little girl raped before her eyes. Maelor. She had chosen, but it was Jaehaerys' head that had rolled to her feet. Not the dragons. The rats. One of their little boy's murderers had been a ratcatcher, but every single one of them had been hanged - on his orders - and promptly replaced by hundreds of cats that now roamed the corridors freely.

▬ Helaena, there's not a rat left in the Keep. No one can hurt you any more, I swear it.

He made sure of it. Mother had made sure of that. If the ratcatcher had been able to enjoy a quick death, the second had not been so lucky. Forced to witness the threats made against her granddaughter, forced to witness the murder of her grandson, Mother had demanded that the murderer be kept alive as long as possible to atone for his atrocious crime and it was only after seven days of continuous torture that he was finally allowed to die. This promise nevertheless seemed to soothe Helaena, who stopped talking and began humming what had been Jaehaerys' favourite lullaby. A lullaby which also seemed to lull her to sleep, as she soon began to flutter her eyelids and sway gently in place.

▬ You need rest Helaena, may I help you to bed ?

Helaena continued humming even as Aegon took her in his arms, even resting her head against his shoulder. And Aegon's heart sank a little more as he realised that his little sister, who had never been very thick, was as light as a feather. Without the efforts of Mother, Maester Orwyle and the maids charged with looking after her, his little sister would have stopped eating, sleeping and bathing on her own. Without the efforts of all of them, she would already be dead.

▬ Aegon ?

Helaena's hand grasped his as he placed her as gently as possible on his bed, her eyes seeming to regain some of their sparkle. Sometimes, she managed to become herself again. But it never lasted more than a few minutes, just a few moments before her mind slipped back into the madness that had taken hold of her since the death of their little boy. Tears began to roll down her cheeks again, as the words escaped her lips hurriedly.

▬ Jaehaerys... I'm sorry, I'm sorry, they forced me to choose.... Jaehaerys...

▬ Those two monsters forced you Helaena, you had no other choice. No one holds you responsible for the death of our little boy. I promise you. Not Mother, not Grandfather, not me.

If he was angry, it was at his uncle and his bitch of a sister. At the guards and their absence. At himself, who had done nothing, convinced that his family was sufficiently protected. But certainly not against her, who had been faced with an impossible choice: die with their three children or sacrifice one of them.

▬ And Maelor, he... Our little boy is still far too young to understand what happened that night. The only thing he understands is that his mum starts screaming as soon as she sees him. Come back Helaena, I beg you. For him, for Jaehaera !

His pleas were in vain as Helaena continued to cry, apologising and repeating the name of their missing son over and over again. Then her voice died away and her gaze was lost once more in the emptiness as she curled in on herself, still clutching Jaehaerys's blanket to her heart. Her breath became irregular and her eyelids slowly closed as she drifted off to sleep. A troubled sleep that lasted as long as her moments of clarity, for not a night went by without her waking up screaming, unable to escape even for a few hours from the madness that was devouring her.

▬ I'll be back Helaena, I promise....

He always did, just as he had promised her.

[echantedtoon]

Obsession 憑 Ch41

(Warnings for Y/N's injuries and death. Updates for Obsession might be pretty slow as I'm mainly focusing on A Lovers' Circle until it's completed. I'm not abandoning this fic and it'll still be updated but slower at least until my other main kny story is done.)

Tagging: @lavenderdropp @supernovacoffeestop @gilded-sunrays @crescent-blades @yumakutagawa

Remember if you want to be added to the taglist lemme know

                                                                                      Part 5 Dawn 

The amount of time that it took between Yoriichi leaving and Shinobi coming in was a blur. She didn't say much. She asked you to sit up slowly and with help from Mitsuri.managed to get you to sit on your bottom with the dull stabbing pain down your back. She then gently had you remove the loose comfy shirt someone had dressed you in to peer at your back.

She hummed. "It's not as bad as everyone thought. You're recovery process will be a bit delayed but it's not too serious and this time it might fully heal without any future complications!"

You rolled your eyes with a hiss. "Gee. Thank goodness someone pushing me into a hot springs didn't kill me. I'm so lucky."

"You ARE lucky. If Prince Yoriichi hadn't dove in to save you, you would've drowned."

"Oh. One of the crazy men holding me hostage here spared me again. How lovely." Both women exchanged looks. "Where is he anyways?"

"He's explaining the incident to Lord Tsugikuni over lunch. I don't know what mood he'll be in once he comes back however he seemed to be calmer than before. So I say take that as a good sign. How do you feel?"

"My back is killing me."

"I'll give you some herbal tea that should help numb the pain! For now just lay on your stomach to avoid agitating the wound. At least until you heal up enough."

"Thank you. I mean it. I appreciate it a lot."

Both ladies smiled at you. It was almost peaceful when you were given very bitter tasting tea to drink as it contained pain numbing herbs, before they helped you lay back down and get back into the comfortable warm soft bed. It wasn't too long before you fell back asleep feeling tired once more.

You weren't sure how long you were asleep for but when you closed your eyes snow fell.

The snow looked beautiful today.

The soft snowflakes coming down from the skies fluttering and falling from the dark clouds but there was still enough light peeking out of the silver clouds to allow her to see what was in the sky. Like little shiny diamonds shining in the sunlight and sparkling in the sky on the way down until they joined the ground where they joined the white blanket covering the earth that sparkled more than a thousand strands of studded silk.

Her eyes scanned the beauty before her shivering as the wind blew the cold winter air across her body and dusting her with the sparkling snowflakes.

"Nii-san!"

Her head turned. Standing there was a young boy small but yet resembled her so much. Shigeru stood there blinking up at you with a curious tilt of his head probably wondering why his big sister was outside in the cold winter morning.

"What are you doing outside?" Those red eyes looked down at one of her younger brothers. Approaching footsteps echoed throughout the back deck as he approached her. Shigeru gazed up at her with a curious face. Stopping just in front of her. "It's cold outside."

"I know but the snow is beautiful." Her head turned back on the environment around them. "It's so peaceful. As pure as the heavens yet it can cause much damage by becoming a blizzard. Snow really is an interesting thing. Do you not agree?"

He looked at the scenery scrunching up his face before scratching his head in confusion. "I guess so but it's too cold out, Y/n. Ma's gonna be really upset if you get sick. She's already worried about Father mining in the cold."

A sigh left your mouth. "I know." Lips frowned down at the reminder of the way your father was so fragile yet still was so strong. But how long would it last? "Where is she?"

He pointed back towards the open door just as Hanako ran by giggling at some game. "She's cooking breakfast! Come eat before Tanjiro eats it all again."

A laugh escaped your mouth as you stood up with a shiver from the cold. "Alright. Hopefully he hasn't accidentally eaten Father's portion right?"

Shigeru giggled before reaching out further towards the side of the house. "Knock on wood!"

KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK.

You weren't sure what time it was but when you woke it wasn't to cold. But warmth and softness. Red eyes blinked as your head lifted with a snort groggily blinking at nothing with messy bed head hanging down your face. Slowly blinking you looked around, quickly noticing that the room wasn't your house but the prison cell that was the palace bedroom again.  No family to comfort you. 

KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK.

With a frown your head turned to the door with narrowed eyes quickly deducing that was the cause for your disturbance. "Who is it?"

"It's me," Yoriichi's voice calmly called out from behind the door. 

"What do you want now?!", you barked annoyed. You were REALLY tired of these people!

"I wanted to talk to you before Lady Shinobu looked over you again." His calm voice softly pleaded from the other side. "Won't you please let me come in? I brought you lunch."

Your brows rose. "...Lunch?"

"When you fell asleep yesterday you slept all through the night and this morning. Lady Shinobu said your month of mistreatment took a toll on your body. Look. I understand that you hate me and...you ..have every right to be. I understand that you don't want to forgive me and I won't ask you too." Your eyes widened at his words. "All I ask is that you hear me out and just talk. That's all."

Yoriichi...wanted to talk? Really? NOW he wanted to talk after everything that he and his brother pulled in the past?!

Your frown turned into a scowl at the door. "You have got a LOT of nerve asking to talk now after you destroyed my town and kidnapped me!!" No answer came back from the other side. "You could've talked to me at any point in time and you chose NOW to do it?! Absolutely not!! I'm not interested in hearing about how much you want to marry me again! Or how much you 'love me'! Or any other fake ass logic you pulled out of your ass!"

There was again silence for a long while before a tired sigh replied. "I'm not here to talk you INTO something. I'm here to talk to you about something."

"What's the difference?! Makes no difference to the situation!"

"Actually it does."

"How?!"

"I'm here now because I was just in a marriage interview with someone else." You blinked. "I wanted to discuss this with you over breakfast but she arrived earlier than expected. That's what I'm here to talk about. I'm-...I-I'm going to accept the proposal."

A glass breaking sound went off in your mind as the silence resumed once more as you laid there staring at the door in shock.

Yoriichi. The man who was as relentless as his brother to find you and bring you back, and spent the first few days seeing you declaring his love every few hours. Was getting MARRIED?! ...You didn't believe him.

"I don't believe you."

"I know. I didn't expect you to. But ..can we still talk?"

You sighed rolling your eyes. He really wasn't gonna give up until he spoke huh? Whatever. You wouldn't be manipulated by him and your stomach growled in hunger. You'd entertain the crazy man just this once.

"Fine. But don't try anything. I still know how to defend myself with bare hands if need be."

Their pregnant silence continued once again as narrowed red eyes stared at the door. Eventually there was some fiddling sounds on the other side before the outside guard stationed to protect you skid open the door to reveal none other than Yoriichi. He now looked how he normally did with his hair tied up and a tray in his hands. Upon the tray was a bowl and cup from what you could see from the angle you had. He thanked the guard before stepping inside, door sliding behind him as he stared at you. For a moment there was nothing but you staring until your stomach growled again registering the smells of cooked rice, beef, and green tea.

"Haha. It sounds like you're hungry. Here." You said nothing as he walked on over and slowly placed the tray down on the floor. Oh. It was everything you smelt. A bowl of rice, and a slab of meat. A cup of tea next to it. "Let me help you up into a sitting position." You again scowled t him which made him hold up his hands. "Just to help you sit up. Please? It'll be easier for you to eat then."

"...Keep your hands where I can see them or else!"

He did. Pulling the blanket off you before gently helping you up as you hissed in pain before sitting in a crossed legged position. The tray placed in your lap. You examined it thoroughly before daring to pick up the chopsticks and satisfying your stomach's demands. There was more silence as you ate. It wasn't anything fancy. Plain white rice and cooked beef, but compared to the past month of eating nothing but soup for your meals it was like the sweetest honey. Yoriichi silently just watched as you ate, making himself at home sitting down across from you but far enough away for you to be comfortable. He said nothing until you were halfway through your bowl to speak. 

"I hope it tastes good. It was the only thing Father permitted me to bring you."

You huffed rolling your eyes. "Is he mad at me again?"

"I kept your name out of it. He only knows that some maids got into a fight. The punishment I gave to all of the maids was enough to satisfy him."

You stopped to stare at him. "...What kind of 'punishment' did you give them?"

"No food or proper bedding for three days. They still have two more days to go."

"It's cruel to keep food from them."

"And it's cruel to bully you. Assault you. Almost KILL you."

You didn't comment on that. Only turning back to continue eating. "What exactly are you here for again?"

"Oh yes. Thank you for reminding me." His look turned serious as he looked you in the eyes. "Earlier today Lady Mia came to visit me."

Lady Mia? That name doesn't ring a bell. You've never heard of her before. "Who's she?"

"She's the daughter of a noble man from one of Muzan's territories." He frowned slightly just mentioning the scumbag's name. "Her position isn't very high, but Father thinks a marriage between someone from both our territories will strengthen bonds between them. I've come here to officially tell you that I plan on accepting her marriage proposal."

There was again silence as you stared at him looking up and down. Was he bluffing? Trying to insight some kind of jealousy or anger from you? Was he trying to entice you to beg him to be with you instead with this news fake or not? He was definitely crazy enough.

"... Congratulations. I'm happy you're finally coming to your senses and moving on." You looked back to your food after sarcastically muttering to him. "Sure took you long enough. Sure you both basically took over my town, wouldn't leave me alone, and kidnapped me away from my family- But better late than never right?"

"I expected this kind of reaction from you."

"Well what WERE you expecting?" You pointed a piece of beef at him. "That I'd immediately throw myself at your feet begging you to marry me right then and there?"

"No..I was expecting your suspicion and sarcasm," he admitted with a sad sigh. "I just wanted to inform you of it."

"What's the point of doing that? So both of you will be getting married then. Now I'll be partially free of you both." You shoved the beef into your mouth. "Anything else, Your Highness?"

His eyes widened slightly but his expression still remained somber. "Yes, actually. I know I hurt you in ways that I shouldn't have, and for that I do apologize and I am sorry. But I also know you'll probably never forgive me." Her look told him he got that right. "I very much wish that I could help you but as long as my father is alive, I can't do anything for your stay here."

"What is your point in all of this?"

"I've gotten rid of your debt. Your debt has now been added onto the remaining maids. They'll have to work it off." You choked on the beef in your throat. "Furthermore I'll be taking you out of the service with the other maids. From now on you'll be my personal aid once you get better. I'll have you serve Lady Mia during her stay her."

You coughed and cough and coughed pounding on your chest until you were able to croak out a word. "WHAT?! WHY?!"

"To ensure your safety."

"Uh..How about no?" You deadpanned looked at him. "I agreed to work off to atone for my 'crimes' and to repay my debts! I did it to get away from both of you! Did you forget that?"

"I know that. Believe me if I could I'd grant you that freedom buy I can't. Only Father holds that power until he dies."

"Then why do this?"

"Because I do love you-"

"YOU DON'T HAVE LOVE FOR ME!!" The room echoed with your angry voice. Rage igniting with your body at him. You knew it. Nothing but another love confession. "YOU NEVER LOVED ME BECAUSE IF YOU DID I WOULDN'T BE HERE!! WHAT YOU HAVE IS JUST FASCINATION BECAUSE YOU U LATCHED ONTO ME! IT'S EXACTLY AS I SAID!! IF YOU-"

A warmth suddenly placed itself over your mouth stopping you from talking. The sudden motion making you shocked and paused long enough to get him to speak again.

"Love something then let it go," he calmly stated before slowly removing his hand from your soft face. "And I wish I could. I would let you flee in a heartbeat but unfortunately I can't do that. Not out of feelings but because it's not within my power. However what I can do is to limit your exposure to danger. My presence will do that."

...You slowly blinked looking at him again. "...Why? Why are you doing this?"

"Because..When I share a room with you, I'm in a temple." He leaned closer. "When you speak I hear angels singing. When you walk side by side with me, I walk the path of heaven. And when you smile..I am happy."

Red eyes widened as the soft feeling of warmth presses against your forehead for nothing but a second before he immediately backed away and stood up. Looking at you. Mix of hurt, longing, want, and guilt in his eyes. 

"I'll be informing my father that I've accepted Lady Mia's engagement. With any luck he'll be in such a good mood that I might be able to convince him to let you go. Until then Shinobu will tend to you. I leave you in her capable hands."

You didn't react to him when he left. The door opening and closing behind him as he left, leaving you to sit there in the empty room all alone with half eaten food in your lap. The silence still continued until a rush of realization hit you hard.

The guard outside jumped as a woman's frustrated screech cascaded out.

[intrepidacious]

A Cornucopia for You!

From: @levans44

Bucky Barnes; grumpy/sunshine, enemies to lovers; modern AU neighbors; fluff

You sat on your knees in the garden, your plush grass pairing nicely with the new petunias you were planting in rows at the corner of your house near the property line.

As you looked in front of you, you could see the way your well-treated lawn contrasted with the brown patches in that of your neighbor’s. Since he moved in, you watched as a once beautiful piece of land became a little overgrown. What confused you about it most, though, was the fact that you had never really seen him leave his house. Sure, every now and then, you’d hear the roar of a motorcycle and peek through your curtains to see the Beefcake riding away, but it was few and far between.

But the bike hadn’t left the driveway in some time, and as you looked down at the plethora of greens before you, you figured you had some to spare. Brushing your knees free of dirt and removing your gardening gloves, you decided to pay your reclusive neighbor a visit.

As you knocked on the door, you were caught by surprise when it whipped open, revealing him in all of his brooding glory. He wore a white tank, too tight for your sanity, as it clung to his abs and chest. And oh man, did he have abs for days.

You swallowed at the sight, but quickly averted your gaze to his face in response to this low grunt of, “what?”

That view wasn’t much better. The light stubble on his chiseled jaw had you fighting the urge to reach out and see if it would cut your finger.

“H-hi. I’ve got some extra petunias. I was wondering if you might want them? I-I’ll plant them if you want. I also have some lawn feeder if you’re interested. Not that your lawn is bad, it’s just, I thought I could help you care for it—not that you don’t know how to care for it! Just…”

You wanted to facepalm with the word vomit that was spilling out of your mouth, except…. the stranger started to smile, laugh lightly even. He saved you from making a further fool of yourself, too.

“I think that all sounds great, neighbor. I really appreciate it.”

He rubbed the back of his neck and looked out to his front yard. “Not really used to the whole ‘having my own home’ thing yet. I grew up in the city, so thank you for your offer.”

His smile had you bashfully blushing. “I’m Bucky by the way. And I just made lunch. You wanna, uh, come inside for some and we can discuss the grass that I don’t know how to take care of?”

You laughed and hid your face behind your hands. “I’m sorry about that. I told you I wasn’t assuming, though!”

He laughed at that and it was like music to your ears, as he held the door open for you and you became enveloped in the most homey aromas.

PLEASE I ABSOLUTELY ADORED THIS 😭😭 big city boy bucky!! could let me ride on his motorcycle 👉🏼👈🏼

this was such a lovely surprise omg thank you @levans44 for requesting this for me?? 🥺 and essie you're an artist omg i'm swooning !!! thank you thank you thank you 💛