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hauntedhowlett-writes · 1 year ago

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title: my tears ricochet | part i

pairing: husband's best friend!joel miller x female reader

rating: chapter - t; full work - explicit (18+ MDNI)

word count: 7k

summary: after moving from new york to texas with your fiance, you expect to jump right into wedding planning with his help. when he claims to be too busy, he suggests asking his best friend, joel miller, to help you instead.

you weren't supposed to fall in love with him.

author's note: this story is a three part fic inspired by the song "my tears ricochet" by taylor swift. this first part is reader's POV, part two will be joel's POV, and the third part will be dual POV. if you enjoy, please consider reblogging or commenting!

chapter tags: modern au, infidelity, emotional abuse, the fiance is shitty, no use of y/n, single POV (reader), wedding dress shopping and other wedding planning activities, angst, arguing, alcohol consumption/mention, kissing, no smut. please let me know if i've missed any!

major work tags: modern au, infidelity, explicit sexual content, character death

You stare out at the manicured yard, watching as guests move about the grounds and waiters in black uniforms carry trays of food and drinks through the crowd. Your boyfriend -- wait, no, fiancé -- Alex laughs boisterously with your father, a hand on his back in easy familiarity. You know you should be down there with him given that this is your engagement party, but you were starting to feel overwhelmed by the constant smiling and greeting strangers and showing off your shiny new engagement ring that you needed a break.

The door opens and a man you don't recognize steps into the room, pale blue dress shirt stretched tight across his broad chest and a pair of wrinkled dress pants. He runs a hand through his messy dark curls.

"Sorry, I didn't think anyone would be in here," he says. As he looks you over, his brown eyes go wide with surprise. "Shit, you're the bride!"

You smile at him. "That's me," you reply. You hold a hand out towards him as you give him your name, his rough palm sliding against yours as he grips it firmly.

"I'm Joel Miller," he tells you. You know the name well, being that he's your fiancé's best friend. "Didn't mean to make our first time meetin' so awkward."

"No, no, it's not your fault. I've just been feeling a little overwhelmed with all the," you wave your hand towards the window, "festivities. It's great to finally meet you."

"I don't blame ya. They can get pretty stuffy down there. Congrats, by the way."

"Thank you." He lets go of your hand. "So, why are you hiding?"

He laughs, deep and full bellied. "Alex's mom doesn't like me much. I'm sure she was hopin' that we would stop bein' friends when he went to school on the other side of the country, but I’m like a stubborn tick."

"How could she not like you, Alex told me that the two of you have been best friends since kindergarten!"

"There may have been a few mishaps in high school," he says. "You ever tried eggin' your principal's house?"

"Can't say that I have," you reply.

"Well, it doesn't end well if you get caught." He looks out the window with a smile on his face. "We got arrested. Alex's dad had to bail us out. Probably had to throw some hush money around so that it wouldn't show up on his record when he applied to school."

"He's never told me that!" You say, laughing hard enough around the words that your stomach hurts.

The door opens and this time, Alex himself steps into the room. His serious expression morphs into a smile when he sees you and Joel.

"There you are," he says, crossing the room to kiss your cheek. He greets Joel with a hug, patting his back roughly. "What are you two doing in here?"

"I just needed a minute alone," you tell him.

"And I crashed her minute alone. Told her about the time we got arrested in high school," Joel adds. Alex's jaw tenses, his smile tight as his eyes flick to you, like he's worried about your reaction. "She laughed. It's all good."

"Right. Well, I came to find you because its time for the toast and dinner," Alex says. "Let's get back down to our guests."

A hand at the small of your back urges you towards the door before you can reply.

"Alex, are you listening to me?" You ask. Your fiancé looks up from his phone.

"I'm sorry, baby, I was finishing an e-mail," he says. He sets his phone down on the table, dark screen facing up, and gives you his full attention. "What were you saying?"

"I wanted to schedule the cake tasting. Do you have any free time this week?"

He grimaces. "I don't think I do, sweetheart. Your dad's got my schedule pretty packed."

"I can just ask him to--"

"No," he says sternly. "You know I have to make a good impression with the rest of the firm."

"But--"

"Babe, no. I can't do this week. Why don't you ask my mom? Or Joel?"

While your future mother-in-law is kind enough, you don't have much patience for the way she tries to take control of your wedding planning. Joel, however, might be a good idea. He knows Alex well enough to be a stand in for a decision like cake and icing flavors.

"Could you give me Joel's number?"

Alex smiles, seemingly pleased that he's off the hook as he takes his phone in hand and sends you his best friend's phone number.

You meet Joel at the bakery that week. To your surprise he's there before you, dressed in worn jeans and a t-shirt and he smiles brightly at you as you approach.

"Hey," he says. "Ready to eat some cake?"

"I think this will be my favorite part of planning this whole wedding," you reply. He laughs as he pulls the door open for you to step inside, following in behind you.

"Welcome to Buttercup Bakery! Can I help y'all with anything?" A young woman with a name tag reading BEVERLY asks from behind the counter, pink and white apron tied around her waist.

"I have a cake tasting appointment," you reply, giving her your name for the reservation.

"Excellent! If you want to go ahead and take a seat anywhere you'd like, I'll bring out the tasting options and we'll get you squared away in no time!"

She disappears through swinging doors as you and Joel take a seat at a pink acrylic table with matching chairs. He looks around the shop with interest.

"What made you pick this place?" He asks.

"Had the best reviews," you say with a shrug. His brow furrows.

"Alex didn't suggest it? He helpin' you at all with this weddin'?"

He says it with a laugh, but the question makes you dig your fingernails into your palm. "He's just really busy with work. I've been doing a lot of the planning."

“What about your uh, what are they called? Bridesmaids?”

“They’re all back in New York. It’s just me.”

“I thought your parents were here, too? Isn’t Alex workin’ with your dad now?”

“It’s just my dad, he’s back in New York. His partner opened a firm in Austin and Alex is working with that office. He’s hoping to make partner soon, too.”

Joel nods, eyes scanning your face but you keep your expression as neutral as possible. The swinging doors open and Beverly returns with a marble tray, bites of cake artfully arranged on the surface. She sets it on the table between you and Joel.

“Okay! These are our six most popular flavor combinations for you to start with and if there’s something more custom you have in mind, we can totally make that happen,” she says. “Starting at the top, we have classic vanilla with vanilla buttercream, chocolate cake with chocolate ganache and chocolate buttercream, our signature champagne cake with strawberry buttercream, lemon cake with lavender buttercream, caramel cake with caramel mocha buttercream, and white chocolate cake with raspberry jam and white chocolate raspberry buttercream.”

Joel grins at you. “This might be the best thing anyone has ever asked me to help with.”

“I’ll leave you guys to it,” Beverly says with a wink, walking back to the counter.

“I don’t know which to start with,” you say, eyes scanning the selections.

“That chocolate one is callin’ my name,” Joel replies, spearing one of the chocolate cake bites with a fork and taking a bite. He hums appreciatively. “Oh yeah, that one is a winner.”

You choose the vanilla to start, taking a bite of the moist cake with buttercream that tastes strongly of vanilla bean with a hint of cinnamon. The simplicity makes it good, but overall the flavor doesn't stand out to you. Joel continues to take bites seemingly at random while you opt to go around the tray in the order that Beverly introduced the flavors.

"Any of them stickin' out to you?" Joel asks when you've reached the half-way point.

"They're all delicious," you reply. "I think Alex would probably like the vanilla best, though."

"I didn't ask what Alex would like, I asked if there were any that you liked." He spears the remaining piece of white chocolate raspberry with his fork and holds it up to you. "Here, try this one next."

You eye the fork dubiously. "I don't think--"

Joel slips the bite of cake into your mouth despite your interrupted disagreement, smiling at you triumphantly. You chew the bite begrudgingly.

"I think that one and the chocolate one are my favorite," Joel says as you swallow.

Beverly returns at that moment, a notepad in hand as she pulls up a third chair to the tiny bistro table.

“So? What are your thoughts?”

“I think I’m going to get the vanilla,” you tell her. Joel’s jaw ticks, almost like he’s upset you’ve chosen the flavor that you said Alex would like. “But, could I get alternating tiers of the white chocolate raspberry, too?”

Joel’s lips quirk up in a small smile and you try to ignore the way it makes your stomach flip.

Joel: Have you picked flowers yet?

Not yet.

Joel: I know a place. You busy today?

You stare the at the message in surprise. You weren’t expecting to hear from Joel again, but his name on your screen has you fighting back a smile.

I’m not busy. When did you want to go?

Joel: They open at noon. Here’s the address.

“Baby, have you seen my blue tie?” Alex calls from upstairs. You drop your phone to the counter like you’ve been caught doing something wrong.

“Which one?” You reply, pressing a hand to your chest.

“The plaid one!”

“Should be in your tie drawer!”

“It’s not here!”

You pinch your nose, making your way to the stairs to join him in your shared bedroom. He’s standing in front of his tie drawer, hands on his hips as he stares at the contents. You peek over his shoulder and reach into the back, pulling out the neatly folded blue and green patterned tie.

He takes it from your hand. “That one should be towards the front. Can you remember that next time you put away dry cleaning?”

“Sure.” You bite your lip to hold back the sigh that threatens to spill. “You want me to tie it for you?”

“No, thanks, I need it to be perfect. Big meeting,” he says, his lips tilted in a smile that feels condescending. He leans into you, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “Love you.”

“Love you, too,” you murmur, watching his back as he enters the bathroom and shuts the door behind him.

Joel is waiting outside of a dark green storefront when you arrive at the address he’d sent you. He smiles when he sees you, a true one that makes the corners of his eyes crinkle slightly, and it gives you this strange feeling of emptiness because you can’t remember the last time Alex smiled at you like that.

When you’re close enough, he pulls you into a hug that envelops you in strong arms and the scent of woods at nightfall with a hint of citrus. Your eyes flutter shut as you hug him back and breathe him in.

He releases you and immediately you feel a chill in losing his warmth despite the oppressive Texas heat. You look at the shop as he steps back, taking in the gorgeous floral arrangements in the window and cursive script painted on the glass that says PETAL TO THE METAL.

Joel opens the door to the shop, a brass bell ringing to announce your entrance. A man at the counter in the center of the store looks up and grins at you both.

“Joel! Nice to see you,” the man says. You watch as they shake hands with familiarity, the man behind the counter smiling kindly. “You must be the bride. I’m Frank.”

You give Joel a look of surprise before introducing yourself and shaking Frank’s hand. “It’s nice to meet you. Do you two know each other?”

“Joel’s an old friend of ours.”

“Ours?”

A back door bangs open, someone emerging with their arms so full of potted plants you can’t see their face. A deep voice let’s out a series of curses.

“This is my partner, Bill,” Frank says. “He’s not much of a people person. Great with plants, though.”

“A little help would be nice,” Bill grunts. Frank rolls his eyes but leaves the counter to take a couple pots from Bill’s hands, revealing a man with long brown hair and a grizzled expression hidden amongst a thick beard. Frank leans in and kisses his cheek.

“You need only ask,” Frank says. Bill’s cheeks turn pink beneath his thick facial hair. Despite the annoyed expression on his face, his eyes are soft as he watches Frank. “Let me grab you the event portfolio and we can talk about your wedding. Have a look around.”

As Frank leaves and Bill busies himself arranging the new plants, you and Joel wander the shop and take in aisles and shelves of different flowers with little gold name cards in their pots or on their buckets.

“So,” Joel says, “How are you liking Austin?”

“It’s…hot,” you reply. “Really, really hot.”

“That’s the south for ya, sweetheart.”

Your face grows hot at the endearment and how it seemed to just roll off his tongue. “Have you lived in Austin your whole life?”

“Texas born n’ bred,” he says proudly, puffing his chest out.

“You never wanted to live anywhere else?”

“I’ve always thought Wyoming sounded nice. A farm that I built, some sheep, no neighbors for miles,” he says wistfully. “Maybe someday.”

“Building a farm, huh? You good with your hands, Joel?”

He blinks at you. “Y-yeah. I mean, I’m a contractor. I gotta be.”

“That’s impressive,” you tell him, biting your lip to hold back your laughter at his flustered response.

Frank approaches, lifting a heavy book in his hands. “You ready to pick some flowers?”

Joel holds the door open for you as the two of you leave the flower shop an hour later. He waves goodbye to Bill and Frank with a promise to visit them for dinner soon before following you down the sidewalk.

“You wanna get lunch?” Joel offers. “My treat.”

You pull your phone from your pocket to check your messages and finding none from Alex, you think to yourself, why not?

“Sure,” you agree.

That's how you find yourself sitting on a bench in the park with Joel Miller, your husband's best friend, talking to him about everything and nothing as you eat street tacos from a food truck nearby. He makes you laugh so hard you choke on birria, the sauce dripping down your chin. He reaches out, wiping the mess with a brown napkin while he smiles so bright it puts the sun to shame.

Later that night, while you're in bed, you can't help but think today was the best day you've had in a long time.

And you're not sure what that means.

You begin texting Joel regularly. You ask him for his opinion on things that Alex can’t be bothered with — the suit colors for the groomsmen (navy blue), the invitation stationary (the linen finish), and favors (miniature bottles of hot sauce - Joel assures you this will be a hit with the Texas crowd). In between those conversations, he sends you pictures from his construction sites or asks you how your day has been and whether you had gotten the chance to check out that show he recommended.

When you tell Alex about the wedding decisions you've made, leaving out the extent of Joel's help, he hums and nods at the appropriate intervals, feigning attentiveness while his thumb moves rapidly across his phone screen. It should bother you, you think, that your future husband is so uninvolved with planning his own wedding, but then your own phone lights up with Joel’s name and a goofy photo he sent from a construction site, his hard hat askew on his head and his eyes crossed, and your annoyance with Alex fades into background noise.

There’s one last item on your checklist that you’re more nervous to ask Joel for help with than the others — dress shopping. You could probably fly back to New York and be with your friends for the momentous occasion but you’re certain that Alex wouldn’t appreciate your absence for something he considers so frivolous.

Not that you say anything when he’s gone for his golfing trips.

You’re staring at Joel’s contact screen, working up the nerve to call him and ask him if he’d be willing to come dress shopping with you, when it lights up with an incoming call, his name at the top of the screen like just your thoughts summoned him. You answer on the third ring.

“Hey, I was just about to call you,” you tell him.

“So that’s why my ears were itchin’,” he laughs. “You need somethin’?”

You take a steadying breath. “I just have one more thing I need help with and then you won’t have to deal with me.”

“I don’t mind helpin’ you, sweetheart.” You stomach flutters at the nickname and he clears his throat to fill the loaded silence that follows his words. “Now, tell me what you need.”

“Could you come dress shopping with me?”

“That all? Just tell me where and when,” he says. You breathe a sigh of relief, giving him the details of the appointment you made at a local boutique. He promises to meet you there this weekend before hanging up.

The word sweetheart in Joel’s deep voice echoes through your mind for the rest of the day.

Joel looks hilariously out of place on the pristine white couch located in the middle of the dress boutique, a dainty glass of champagne held in his large hand. You sit beside him, your legs touching as you watch the sales associate flit around the store, pulling hangers of dresses from the racks.

“That’s a lot of dresses,” Joel comments, taking a sip of champagne.

“You not up for the challenge?” You tease. He laughs, the corners of his eyes crinkling with his wide smile.

“Trust me, I’m up for the challenge. We’re goin’ to find you the best damn weddin’ dress Texas has ever seen,” he promises.

“Alright, I’ve got some gorgeous choices here for you,” the associate announces, holding up a handful of ivory hangers draped in all types of fabric from satin to chiffon. “You wanna follow me and we’ll get started?”

You follow her to the fitting room and she sets the hangers on a rack, fanning out the dresses so that you can get a better look. There’s five of them in a variety of styles, including an impressive ball gown boasting layers of tulle that trails to the floor.

“I’ll try that one first,” you tell her, pointing to ball gown.

“What’s your fiancé’s name?” She asks as you undress, taking the gown from the hanger and arranging it on the floor for you to step into it.

“Alex,” you reply. She drags the bodice up and instructs you to hold it to your chest while she laces up the corset back.

“I think it’s sweet that you’ve brought him with you.”

“Oh, no. That’s Joel, he’s my husband’s best friend.”

“Really?” She asks, the strings tightening around your waist. “The way you two look at each other, I would have bet money he was the one marrying you." You're about to ask what she means when she finishes tying off the bodice and says, "Wow, this dress is stunning on you."

Her comment retreats to the back of your mind as you look at yourself in the mirror. The strapless white gown hugs your chest and waist, flaring out into a layered skirt with lace appliques. There's beading on the sweetheart neckline that trails down the bodice in intricate patterns that catch the light of the fitting room. The dress is stunning.

Marnie leads you back out to the showroom, helping you step up onto a raised platform in front of a trifold mirror that shows you your reflection from multiple angles. You twist and turn, taking in all the details of it before finally facing Joel.

"Damn," Joel says. "That sure is one hell of a dress."

"It's...a lot." You twist your hips from side to side, the heavy skirt swishing across the floor. "I feel like a cupcake and I don't know if I'll be able to dance in it."

"You wanna test it out?"

He's standing before you can respond, reaching a hand into yours to guide you down from the pedestal. When you're on the floor, he wraps an arm around your low back, pulling you close while swaying side to side.

The world around you goes a little blurry and the only thing in perfect clarity is Joel. The feel of his hand in yours, the weight of his arm at the small of your back, the clean smell of soap and citrus, everything is just....Joel.

"How's it feel?" He asks, voice low. You tilt your head back to look up at his face.

"Huh?"

"The dress...dancin'...how's it feel?"

The question drags you back to reality, where you're currently dancing around a bridal salon with a man who isn't your fiance. You pull away from him, returning to the pedestal as the bridal associate joins the two of you again.

"Uh...I don't think this is the dress for me. Can we try the next one?"

You try on two other dresses in quick succession, neither of them leaving a lasting impression. It's the fourth dress that really gives you pause as you look at yourself in the fitting room mirror.

"Honey," the associate says, adjusting the off-the-shoulder sleeves of the dress, "This dress was made for you."

The scooped neckline highlights the lines and curves of your neck and shoulders, the corset bodice hugging your curves in satin folds. The skirt fans out from the waist, similar to the silhouette of the ball gown without all the additional weight and fabric and a thigh high slit allows for some extra movement.

She leads you back out into the showroom and helps you once more onto the pedestal. You grin at your reflection as she fixes the skirt into place.

"Well?" You ask, catching Joel's eye in the mirror. His mouth is set in a serious line, brows pinched together and his arms crossed over his chest. You own smile falters. "You don't like it? What's with the look?"

He shakes his head, his serious expression morphing into a smile that doesn't reach his eyes. "You look..." His voice trails off and he clears his throat. "Alex is a lucky son of a bitch."

You laugh, lifting the skirt so that you can step off the pedestal. Joel's eyes drop, his gaze fixing on the skirt as you walk towards him.

"You think so?" You ask quietly, stepping in close.

"Yeah, sweetheart," he murmurs. A single finger runs down your arm, goosebumps erupting over your skin in its wake. "I know so."

With the wedding plans finalized, your attention returns to your work as a web design consultant. Your client portfolio starts to build once more, keeping you busy in the months leading up to your big day. Alex remains focused on his work at the firm, working long days and longer nights that have him arriving home well after you've gone to bed, the two of you just ships passing in the dark. You would feel lonely, you think, if not for Joel.

The two of you still message each other frequently, though you don't see him again until a month before the wedding, when Alex invites him over for dinner one Saturday night.

The doorbell rings just as you put the chicken in the oven and you wipe your hands before going to answer it, your heart racing. Joel's sweet smile greets you when you open the door and seeing him across the threshold has the tension in your shoulders easing the slightest bit.

He steps across the threshold, strong arms wrapping around your waist in a tight hug. Footsteps on the stairs have him releasing you far sooner than you would have liked.

"Joel, my man! Glad you could make it," Alex says as he reaches the first floor. "Honey, is the table set?"

"No, not yet," you reply.

"You need any help?" Joel asks. You open your mouth to respond, but Alex jumps in to say, "No, she's got this. Let me give you the tour."

You watch as Alex leads Joel upstairs, commanding his friend's attention. You swallow down the anger that rises in your throat at your fiancé's dismissal and return to the kitchen, gathering the place settings and arranging the table to his liking.

"It's a nice place," Joel says as the two men enter the living room, which opens to the kitchen and dining areas.

"All that work finally paying off," Alex comments. You roll your eyes, fighting the urge to mention that you were the one who fronted the down payment for Alex's choice of home in Texas. The oven beeps and you pull out the chicken parmesan that had been baking.

"Smells good," Joel comments. You look up, catching his eye. A wordless understanding passes between you, a quiet appreciation that makes your blood run hot.

You plate the food while your fiancé uncorks a bottle of wine and pours it into the wine glasses at each place setting. Alex settles in at head of the table and Joel takes the seat to the left, leaving you with the seat to Alex's right, across from Joel.

The three of you make small talk between bites of dinner and sips of wine. Alex asks Joel about the contracting work he's been doing, Joel asks him about his work at the new office and how he's settling in, being back in his home state. It's halfway through dinner that Joel looks to you and asks, "Are you excited for the wedding next month?"

"Of course," you reply, fingers tangling in the cloth napkin resting across your lap. "Planning it was a labor of love."

"Right, thanks for helping her with the cake, man," Alex chimes in.

Joel chuckles. "Helped with a lot more than just the cake."

"What do you mean?" Alex asks, glancing between the two of you.

"Well, I helped get the flowers, the cake, pickin' out the stationary. Dress shoppin'," Joel clarifies. Your stomach drops as Alex's jaw grows tense, his brow pinched as he nods and pastes on a forced smile.

"Wow, I didn't realize you'd been so involved," Alex says. He removes the napkin from his lap, setting it on the table. "Would you excuse us for a second?"

Alex stands, looking down at you expectantly. You smile at him and Joel in turn, but the expression feels hollow and you taste bile in the back of your throat. As soon as you're on your feet, Alex has a strong hand wrapped around your wrist, urging you along behind him as he makes his way towards the stairs.

Once he's reached your shared bedroom, he turns to you, eyes filled with rage. “What the fuck is that about?”

“What do you mean?” You ask. He laughs, the sound devoid of any humor.

“He helped you pick out your dress?” Alex paces the length of the bedroom like a caged animal and for the first time in your relationship with him, a frisson of fear courses through your veins. “You can’t possibly be that fucking stupid?”

“Excuse me?” You snap. “You told me to ask him for his help!”

“With the cake!” Alex shouts. “Not the entire goddamn wedding! Do you have any idea how that makes me feel?”

“You weren’t exactly offering much help, Alex!”

His eyes narrow. “I thought you would be perfectly capable of planning shit on your own, but I guess that was giving you too much credit.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You ask. “Why are you being such a fucking asshole right now?”

“Because you’re my fiancé, not Joel’s!” He steps in close, towering above you as he hisses, “Did you fuck him?”

“No!” You shout.

His eyes search yours and whatever he finds seems to extinguish his anger, his coiled muscles loosening. He grips your shoulders, pressing his forehead to yours.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs. “Why don’t you head back downstairs and I’ll stay up here for a minute to cool off, okay?”

The sudden switch leaves your head spinning but you manage to nod. Alex kisses your forehead and you take that as your cue to leave, escaping the confines of your room. In the hall, you grip the banister of the loft that overlooks the living room and take the first real breath in what feels like ages, your eyes squeezed shut as you try to calm your racing heart.

You return to the kitchen and Joel’s head snaps up when you enter. He rises from his seat at the table, rushing to your side.

“Are you okay?” He asks, low voice filled with concern, his brows pinched with worry. “What the fuck was that?”

“Just a misunderstanding,” you murmur, pushing past him.

“That’s bullshit,” he hisses. “Is he always like that?”

“Like what?” You sigh.

“An asshole. Yellin’ and threatenin’ you.” His fists are clenched at his sides. “He ever hit you?”

“What? No, of course not.” You take a deep breath, beating back the wave of tears pressing at the corners of your eyes. “He’s just got a lot going on with the move and work and the wedding.”

Joel is quiet, watching you with keen brown eyes that you, for once, wish weren’t focused on you. He steps close, voice low as he says, “Be honest with me, sweetheart.”

“I’m fine, Joel,” you tell him. The lie claws at your throat and sends your stomach into a tailspin. “I promise.”

Footsteps echo on the stairs and you step away from Joel, busying yourself with loading the dishwasher, clearing the counters, anything to keep your hands occupied and stop their shaking. Alex enters the kitchen with a sharp smile.

“Hey, man, sorry about that,” he says, clapping Joel on the shoulder. “I think we’re ready to call it a night. Ain’t that right, honey?”

You force yourself to keep your eyes on Alex as you smile and say, “Yeah, baby.”

“Let me walk you out, Joel,” Alex says. “Honey, say bye.”

“Goodbye, Joel.”

Joel: Hey

Joel: You having a good week?

Joel: Been a while. You doing okay?

Joel: You’ve been quiet

Joel: I need to know you’re okay.

Joel: Just let me know

Joel: Please

“Just two more days until you’re my wife,” Alex says, pressing a kiss to your lips. He smiles at you and you mirror the expression as best you can.

“I can't wait,” you reply.

"I gotta get going," Alex says. He presses a kiss to your cheek as he passes where you're sitting at the bar. "Love you."

"Love you," you repeat, out of reflex more than affection.

The front door slams shut and quiet settles over the house. All you want to do is crawl back into bed and pull the covers over your head in the hopes that it protects you from the way time continues to creep forward despite your uncertainties. Maybe, if you lay there long enough, time will move on without your involvement.

Your thoughts are interrupted by a heavy knock at the door. You’re not sure who it could be — your dad is scheduled to fly into town in the late afternoon and your friends arrive early tomorrow morning and you’re fairly certain you don’t have any deliveries scheduled. Sliding from the bar stool, you leave the kitchen to answer the door.

Joel stands on the other side of the threshold, haloed by the morning sun. For a brief moment, you wonder if you’re dreaming.

“What are you doing here?” You finally ask.

“Can I come in?” He replies, running a hand through his already messy hair. “I need to talk to you.”

You step aside and allow him to enter the hallway, shutting the door behind him. You avoid his gaze as you return to the living room with him following behind you. The silence that settles between the two of you makes you want to crawl out of your skin.

"Why haven't you been talkin' to me?" Joel asks. He takes a step closer, brown eyes searching yours for an answer you try to keep hidden.

"I've been busy," you say.

"Cut the bullshit," he snaps, surprising you. "Is it because of what happened at dinner?"

"No," you reply. Joel must sense the brief hesitation, hear the weakness in your voice. His eyes go soft, full of pity, and you can't fucking stand it. "Don't look at me like that."

"Look, I've known Alex a long time, and all those years weren't exactly peachy," he says cryptically. "I love him like a brother but even family ain't without faults.” He steps in close, his hands cradling your face in a delicate grip. “Tell me this is what you want," he demands. "Tell me that you're happy with Alex. Tell me that there's nothin' here between us."

The words are there, right on the tip of your tongue, but nothing can bring them to life. Your heart beats a frantic rhythm against your ribcage, the rush of blood in your ears the only thing you can hear. He leans closer, eyes dropping to your lips and you know what's about to happen next but you can't bear the thought of stopping him as he closes the scant distance between your mouths.

For the briefest moment, you allow yourself the chance to just feel. No thoughts, no panic, no worry. Just Joel's warm lips moving against yours, the trace of his palm from you cheek to behind your head, pulling you closer even though you're already tightly pressed to him. It's slow and deep, like he's trying to convince you down to your marrow that this is where you're supposed to be.

But it's not.

You push him away and he doesn't fight you, but the look he gives you damn near shatters your resolve. His eyes are dark, jaw tense, hands flexing at his sides like he's fighting the urge to reach out and pull you back, damn the consequences. Your eyes and throat burn with the effort of holding back the tears that threaten to spill.

"You need to leave," you whisper. "You can't do this, we can't do this. I'm getting married in two days, Joel!"

He runs a hand through his hair, pulling on the strands in frustration. "You think I don't know that? You think I don't lay awake at night thinkin' what a fuckin' asshole I am for fallin' in love with my best friend's fiancé?!" He shouts.

"This isn't love, Joel--"

"Don't," he snaps. "Don't you lie to me. I know it, you know it, hell, the fuckin' lady at the dress shop knew it!" He takes a deep breath. "I'm showin' you my whole hand here and you won't even lay down a goddamn card!"

"There is no card!" You shout.

"You kissed me back!" He counters.

You stare at each other for a long moment, like two scared, wounded animals. Eventually, one of you has to back down, retreat, lick their wounds until they've healed in a messy pattern of scar tissue that will serve as a painful reminder of what could have been.

Joel sighs, another pass of his hand through his hair as he says, "You know what? Fine." He turns to leave, the line of his shoulder lower, his head low.

A glutton for punishment, you call out, "Joel?"

"Yeah?" He asks, weary. Bone tired. You feel it, too.

"Will you still be there tomorrow?" You ask, unsure of which answer would be worse.

Another sigh. "Yeah. I'll be there."

The door slams shut behind him.

Your rehearsal dinner is torture.

This should be one of the happiest events of your life but all your energy is being directed at avoiding Joel like the plague. He moves through the crowd comfortably, having known many people in attendance for most of his life, and you feel like an unmoored boat, hoping a wave doesn't crash over you.

Alex sits beside you, drinking from a glass of whiskey as he talks to one of his uncles that has been praising him for landing the opportunity to work with such a prestigious law firm right after college. A dizzying rotation of people approach you through the night - friends who chatter excitedly about the big day tomorrow, aunts who ask when you think you'll have children, uncles who tell you that they're proud of you for landing such a successful, promising young man. It's those last comments that have you hiding a frown in your champagne glass.

It drags on forever, this constant stream of polite conversation and forced smiles. When you finally return to the hotel that you're staying at for the night, you start to feel like you can breathe again. You have a suite separate from Alex's for getting ready early in the morning and he walks you to your room, hand on your low back, a smile on his face.

"I'll see you in the morning," he says, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips. "My almost wife."

The sentiment has bile rising in your throat and as he turns to leave you're blurting the words, "I can't do this."

"Sweetheart, you're just nervous," he says, voice surprisingly calm. He squeezes your shoulders. "You just need to sleep it off and everything will be fine in the morning."

"No," you tell him, shaking your head. "No, it won't be fine."

His smile drops, like a mask has just been removed. "Where is this coming from? Everything was fine at the rehearsal."

"Everything was not fine at the rehearsal!"

Alex takes the room key from your hands, unlocked the door and ushering you inside. He flicks on the light to the sitting area and takes a seat on the couch.

"What's going on with you?" He asks, exasperation dripping from his words. "What do you mean the rehearsal wasn't fine? Did you not like the food or something?"

You stare at him incredulously. "The problem wasn't the food, Alex! The problem is us!"

"There's no problem with us," he says. "Unless there's something you want to tell me?"

"What do you mean?" You ask.

He stands, coming close. "Is this about Joel?"

"No!" You snap, perhaps too quickly. "This isn't about Joel."

"Then what is it? Because as far as I know, we're a perfectly happy couple."

"Perfectly happy? Alex, you didn't even help me plan this wedding. Not a single minute of it."

"Not this again," he groans. "Sweetheart, let it go. I'm sorry, okay? Is that what you need to hear?"

Your jaw aches with how hard your teeth grind together as he dismisses you so easily. A deep breath in through your nose and out through your mouth steadies you enough to say, "I'm not marrying you."

"Baby, please," Alex says. For the first time, he sounds panicked. "Don't make any rash decisions, alright? Whatever this is, we can work through it. If I lose you, I lose everything."

Maybe he's right. Maybe the stress of the last few months has just caught up to you.

"Okay," you whisper. He breathes a sigh of relief and presses another kiss to your temple.

"I love you," he says. "Everything will be okay after tomorrow. You'll see."

You don't say anything back, and he doesn't wait around for a response. He leaves your suite, the click of the door shutting loud in the late night silence. You stand there for who knows how long, wondering if he's right. Would everything be alright after tomorrow? Could you sweep those lingering feelings for Joel to the side in favor of the life you'd been building for the last few years?

You know what the safe choice is, but is it the right choice?

It's the morning of your wedding day and you've been poked and prodded with makeup brushes and your hair has been perfectly styled for the occasion. Flashbulbs have been going off on the cameras that are documenting your special day, capturing moments like your bridesmaids helping you into your dress and your dad's first look, a handkerchief clutched in his hand as he smiled at you.

For the first time in hours, you're alone in your suite. The makeup artist and hair stylists have packed up and taken their leave and your friends are downstairs, waiting for the limousine. You told them you would be just a minute longer.

A soft knock at your door has you realizing that you may have taken too long and you shout an apology as you rush to answer it. But it's not one of your friends on the other side like you had expected.

It's Joel.

Your mouth goes dry at the sight of him. His hair is styled, curls smoothed and slicked back into submission. His white shirt is a stark contrast to his navy blue tuxedo, matching bow tie tight around his neck. His boutonnière is slightly crooked where it sits pinned to his jacket lapel. He looks you up and down with a small smile.

"You look beautiful," he says. He reaches for your hand, fingers tangling with yours. Never quite folding together, but never quite letting go, either.

"Thank you," you whisper.

"Are you ready?" He asks. You wonder if he knows, if Alex told him or if he can just see it on your face.

"Yes."

It's a lie, one you've been repeating since your alarm went off this morning after a night of tossing and turning. His smile falters, but doesn't drop.

"Good, that's....good," he says. His hand leaves yours, and you feel like you've had an entire unspoken conversation that's left you both defeated. "Lets go get you married."

Joel Miller masterlist

All masterlists

divider graphic by @saradika-graphics.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller #joel miller fic #joel miller x female reader #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x you #joel tlou #no use of y/n #joel x reader #joel the last of us #joel miller fanfic #joel miller tlou #pedro pascal character fanfic #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal character fic

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nexadarling · 8 months ago

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Trigun Fics

Here I am compiling all my fav Trigun fics, from heart wrenching to fluffy, and everything in-between. Mostly Vashwood! This is a living document and is updated regularly ^.^

(Explicit fic recs are listed separately due to link limitations in Tumblr posts)

Organized by rating > word count > status. Any fic that features "+" after the word count is on-going/uncompleted. As they finish, I will add the final word count.

Please tag an author if I haven't! I tried to find them all, but there are a couple I couldn't/wasn't sure about

Special shoutout to the YAT and Pen Pal Discords for providing so many of these (and writing several)

Read the tags, you know how it goes! And feel free to leave your own recs as well!

Waiting for me (Waiting for you) by @mariadperiad20 - 8k; Vashwood; Not Rated;Trimax/98; Soulmate AU; The Eye of Michael took Wolfwood's soulmate mark, but they can't take his soulmate; Fuck, god, okay... wow I had so many emotions reading this?? Wolfwood's self-hatred is piloting this whole thing he has so many feelings and he thinks Vash deserves so much better than him GOD

sandgrouse by Evercovi - 4k; Vashwood; G; 98 verse I think? Could also be early Trimax; Vash's birthday is coming up and Wolfwood is stressed about getting him the perfect present; They're so stupid! They're so cute!! The author's note at the end killed me in one sentence!!!!

Polyguns Presentation Night! by WateredMyCrops ( @what-immortal-hand-or-eye) - 7k; Polygun; G; Modern AU; Milly notices her partners are shy about talking about things they love, so she sets up a surprise presentation night for them

kindergarten crush by @jumpinginmuddypuddles - 12k; Vashwood; G; Modern AU; Kindergarten Teacher Vash; Wolfwood's little brother (Livio) is in Vash's class and oh no the teacher is really cute

a promise or a threat by @beelzebby666 - >1k; Vashwood; T; Canon-verse; Super short, but an exploration of a visceral love and trust between Wolfwood and Vash; Wolfwood wouldn't stop Vash from hurting him, but Vash never would

your touch, your glance, your hand by @procrastinating-bookworm - 1k; Mashwood; T; Canon-verse; much needed comfort for Wolfwood, on account of the hell his wrist goes through carrying that stupid cross

Miracles and Other Blunders of Providence by @aboxthecolourofheartache - 1k; Gen; T; Tristamp; Vash is delirious after Nai cuts off his arm, and Luida tries to comfort him; whump

the secret about that boy by puphf - 1k; Vashwood; T; Modern AU- College; You ever sit in your college class, bored, and think "huh wouldn't it be funny if there was a mind reader in here?" Vash does that, except his crush is the one who can read minds; this is tragically short, but it's so cute and silly I had to add it

Marked by Dozycerberus - 1k; Vashwood; T; Canon-verse; A short look into Wolfwood's mark from the Eye of Michael and his relation to it in different Trigun canons

hold you through the night until you smile by @fionanotjuliet - 2k; Mashwood; T; Canon-verse; wing grooming ❤️❤️

Never Let Me Go by Puffls ( @whimsicmimic) - 2k; Vashwood; T; Transistor AU; rewrite of the opening cut scene of the game Transistor; Vash is a singer, Wolfwood is his body guard; Wolfwood ends up in the Punisher; no I don't know how it works, yes I think it's cool as fuck; (edit: I have now played Transistor and can confidently say not only do you have to read this, you should also play Transistor for maximum emotion)

built to die here by @jes12321 - 2k; Vashwood; T; Soulmate AU; Soulmate worries show up on your skin. Vash doesn't think he deserves his soulmate

oceans to drown in by @hashtagcaneven - 2k; Stryfewood; T; Pirate AU; Captain Meryl challenges Wolfwood to a sword fight to earn a place on her ship, the most sexually charged sword fight follows; Vash is a siren in this which isn't super important to the plot but it is important to me; Kuro you have the honor of being the only Stryfewood fic on this list lol

you know i tell the truth (we are just the same) by haveloved ( @markcampbells) - 2k; Vashwood; T; Trimax; After the Ark, Vash and Wolfwood talk about what they've been through to become what they are. Or, you know, as much as they talk about anything; I am shaking these two and begging through tears for them to get their shit together just once

Sanctuary by @thechaoscryptid - 2k; Vashwood; T; Tristamp; T4T; Vash knows the violence that has created Wolfwood, but he also sees the care and gentleness of Nicholas; Pleeaasseeee they're so soft here, taking care of each other even though things suck I fucking love them

in the afterglow of an isolated heart by the14thmusician - 3k; Vashwood; T; Canon-verse; touch-starved Vash gets emotional after an unexpected hug, Wolfwood talks him through it

the heaviness we've known by CosmicJourney ( @cosmictapestry) - 3k; Gen; T; Tristamp; Brad fixes Vash up after the events of the sandsteamer and tries to do right by his kid; I'm not gonna lie, this one hurts. It fucking hurts a lot and it doesn't get better at the end, but it's still filled with such sweetness. Just, watching someone you consider your son be Vash the Stampede is never going to be easy

your pride like water in your lungs (drowns all the words it stole) by haveloved ( @markcampbells) - 3k; Vashwood; T; Trimax; Wolfwood helps Vash deal with his phantom limb pain; please god there is much emotion in this tiny little fic Vash why are you like that please just kiss the man!!!!!

Straight Edge of Intimacy by @bendycxmet - 3k; Vashwood; T; Canon-verse; Wolfwood gets them run out of a town, and Vash asks him to help him shave to make it up to him; The tension, the pining... the not-so-casual intimacy of shaving someone's face... I am eating this Whole

i am a diamond on the inside (just add the pressure) by @sascake - 4k; Vashwood; T; Modern AU; Soulmate AU; tattoos show up on your soulmate, Wolfwood has A Lot, Vash kind of loves it

i went too far (when I was begging on my knees) by @flowercitti - 4k; Vashwood; T; reincarnation through the different Trigun versions; soulmates; this is beautifully poetic and achingly sad

walking in your landscape by @pushclouds - 4k; Vashwood; T; Modern AU; Vash takes a vacation trip to a farm and meets cowboy Wolfwood

tell me why your hands are cold (show me how) by desertblooms - 4k; Vashwood; T; Canon-verse; Sick fic; Whump for both of them honestly; Vash uses too much power at once and makes himself dangerously sick, Wolfwood is left to desperately try to keep him alive; This hurts, the way that Wolfwood needs Vash is so obvious in every one of his actions

proximity by @corvidrogue - 5k; Vashwood; T; Canon-verse; Touch-starved Vash has trouble accepting physical affection from anyone but Wolfwood

touch me like nobody else does (lovely) by @flowercitti - 5k; Vashwood; T; Canon-verse; Vash tries to get rid of his wings, Wolfwood grooms them for him; pretty big self harm cw for the beginning of this

Guardian Angel by @hypermoyashi - 5k; Vashwood; T; Post-Trimax; A year after the events of Trimax, Vash hears Wolfwood's voice; Let this fic be known as how to cry in less than 5k; this is very bittersweet, but it is precious and so worth a read

not to me, not if it's you by tickyicky - 6k; Vashwood; T; Trimax; Wolfwood struggles to help Vash through the aftermath of being run out of a town he tried to help

but to me, the comet brings no fear (no, i gaze joyfully) by haveloved ( @markcampbells) - 6k; Vashwood; T; Trimax/Post-Trimax; When a comet comes across the sky once every 50 years, it is a once-in-a-lifetime chance for most people. For Vash, it is a reminder; When I tell you I cried, that I sobbed reading this I am being so fucking serious. Trai does such a wonderful job exploring grief and mourning and Vash's anger and loneliness; and it's Vashwood, but it's not really about them, it's about so much more and anyway I'm gonna go lay down and cry into a pillow thanks

Non-Threatening Touch by saturninesunset - 6k; Vashwood; T; Trimax; Touch-starved; Wolfwood loses track of where they stand with each other when they start sharing a bed to help with nightmares. Vash crosses some lines; This is so cute????? I'm screaming???? All of my ailments have been fixed pls shove this in your face immediately

i have a heart made for taking flight by corvidcaper ( @not-miss-marple) - 8k; Vashwood; T; 5+1; Creature Vash; Vash accidentally courts Wolfwood like a bird. It takes them a while to figure out; PLEASE THIS IS SO CUTE

to god, who i hate so much by @skittidyne - 9k; Vashwood; T; Trimax; A close call forces some feelings into the open in a way that nobody involved is ready for; God, jesus fucking christ, this one is all about the vicious co-dependency of Vashwood and it hurts and they love each other so fucking bad; maybe have some fluff prepared to read after this one

lost in the sugar rush by @pushclouds - 10k; Vashwood; T; Modern AU - Coffee shop; Wolfwood falls for the cute barista; Nai and Wolfwood have coffee-based standoffs; I was giggling to myself through this whole thing

absol(utely) obsessed by @earlgay-milktea - 11k; Vashwood; T; Modern AU - College; Vash is president of the Pokemon society, Livio is a huge Pokemon nerd, and no one here is normal; this is pure silly, goofy fun and it made me smile so much. They're so stupid I hate them. They deserve the world

whose woods these are (i think i know) by intimatopia ( @ciaran) - 13k; Vashwood; T; Fairytale AU; Prince Wolfwood; Suspiciously magical(?) Vash; Vash runs from what he wants as per usual, Wolfwood just wants to know he'll come back

Cheap and Cheerful by AllegedlyAnnie ( @niftyanswersorryiasked) - 13k; Vashwood; T; AU but still on NML; Vash answers a help-wanted ad for an orphanage in need of a handyman, Wolfwood sees through his bullshit in every universe; this might be the most 98/Trimax characterization I've read so far. Their banter is perfect!!!

Sentido by @orcelito - 19k; Vashwood; T; Canon-verse; Vash's relationship with each of his senses, as an inhuman Plant with incredibly advanced senses. Spoiler, it's not always pleasant

ghosting by @orcelito - 22k; Vashwood; T; Modern AU - early 2000s; T4T; Vash owns a B&B that he's pretty sure is haunted, Milly and Meryl convince Wolfwood to exorcise the ghost for him. Wolfwood is not an exorcist; I injected this directly into my bone marrow actually; Wolfwood and Vash are so outrageously down bad for each other, I love them; This also deals beautifully with just the grieving process in general. I wanna give Vash such a huge hug

Strap the Wing to Me, Death Trap Clad Happily by Rayawastaken - 24k; Mashwood; T; Canon-verse; pure 100% hurt/comfort centered around Vash's wings and general eldritch horror-ness

Malediction by @revenantpoet - 28k; Vashwood; T; Mythology AU; Sun-god Wolfwood; Moon-god Vash; Wolfwood finds a poor creature locked away, and something about it tugs at him; Hell yeah sun god Wolfwood!!!! He's so warm and caring he gets to be the sun!!!!; This is genuinely so beautiful and the world building is just!!! So lovely!!!!

ritornello by allandnothing - 29k; Vashwood; T; Modern AU - College; Demi Vash; Seeing Vash renders Wolfwood entirely useless, Livio makes fun of him for it (that's it that's the fic); the tone and humor of this had me on the fucking floor. Might be a new comfort fic

Calendula by @a-bi-disaster-writing - 32k; Vashwood; T; Modern AU - College; Vash works at the greenhouse, Wolfwood works at the college daycare. He takes a tiny Rollo to visit the greenhouse and promptly falls in love

with you, the sun rises slowly by @beesinspades - 33k; Vashwood; T; Modern AU; Wolfwood's cute neighbor loses his apartment to a fire, so he spontaneously offers to let him stay at his place while the damage is repaired; Asexual Vash!! I really like how the author handled Vash's sexuality here, and especially Wolfwood's reaction to it. It felt real (Beelio I love your ace Vash tysm)

an odious damned lie by @riverenne - 47k; Gen with a heavy splash of Vashwood at the end; T; His Dark Materials/The Golden Compass x Trigun AU; Alternate Timeline AU; Takes place on NML, roughly in the (altered) Tristamp timeline; Good GOD I cannot possibly recommend this enough! The writing is beautiful, the daemons are perfect, and the exploration into the characters and their relationships is so!!! Amazing!!! Read it, just read it, please

Gunsmoke - A Coffee Shop/Mafia AU by evil_moo_bunny - 13k+; Vashwood; T; Modern AU - Coffee shop; Vash works at a coffee shop, Wolfwood works for redacted, Meryl and Milly work also redacted at the coffee shop with Vash, everyone has secrets, and Milly is a wonderful matchmaker; This is a series, but I didn't want to link both works separately

if you're looking for a sign: this is it by @elemmacil - 33k+; Vashwood; T; Modern AU; "Nicholas D. Wolfwood has taken over sign duty for Saint Michael’s. Across the street, Vash Saverem is giving out free hugs."; This is so freaking funny and cute and I am frothing at the mouth for more of it

the monster in the ruins of ship five by @beesinspades - 48k+; Vashwood; T; Tristamp; Creature Vash; After Julai, Wolfwood searches for Vash. What he finds is a creature in the shell of a spaceship; VASH GETS THE ZOOMIES; this version of creature Vash is so delightful, Wolfwood's inner monologue is perfect, Sheryl and Lina are The Best

whispers (of the damned) by ValiantRose ( @sleepyartcryptid) - 2k; Vashwood; M; this is just... a Moment of the two of them being so tired but so in love and glad to have not lost each other yet again

all the blood that you still owe by @procrastinating-bookworm - 4k; implied Mashwood; M; Tristamp; Tristamp Wolfwood takes too many vials, and Vash and Meryl try their best to take care of him

Like Petals in a Storm by @maadskittlez29 - 5k; Vashwood; M; Canon-verse Hanahaki AU (w/ a happy ending of course); When Wolfwood realizes what's happening to him, he resolves to hide it from Vash as long as he can, then leave when things are too bad to handle. Of course, things don't exactly go to plan

if only the rain were gasoline by halfdemonvash - 5k; Vashwood; M; Wolfwood takes a bullet for Vash. Emotions ensue; god I have so many of this author's stuff on my lists lol if anyone knows their tumblr pls tell me so I can tag them? I clearly love their writing

you can spend all your love making time by Anonymous- 7k; Vashwood; M; Post-Trimax fix it (this is my new canon)

you are my religion and my religion is you by reddiextozier - 7k; Vashwood; M; Modern AU; Vash confesses his thoughts to his priest; I do think this should really be E, but regardless it's a really fun read. This fandom has given me a penchant for vw fucking in confessionals whoops

wild horses couldn't drag me away by littleghost ( @ghostlandtoo) - 8k; Vashwood; M; Wild West AU; Wolfwood's POV of a kind heart to haunt (E)

white pony by tagteamme ( @phaltu) - 10k; Vashwood; M; Vampires and Demons AU (but still on NML); Vash comes into town searching for a "creature of the night," Wolfwood is the crux of the community as the charismatic priest

Something Fruity, Something Sweet by frankiesin ( @wolfwoodweddingdress) - 11k; Vashwood; M (I think it should be E tho); Modern AU - Coffee shop; Vash is a Starbucks customer with an insane sweet tooth, Wolfwood is just fucking in love with him

Someday out of the Blue by @tenshinokorin - 11k; Vashwood; M; Post-Trimax/reincarnation AU; 100 years after the end of Trimax, Vash runs into a man with the same name and face as his Wolfwood; I put off reading this for so long cause I knew it would make me sad. And it did! But it was also so cute and sweet and warm. And also thinking about it makes me want to cry, but read it anyway pls

his keeper by princecl0ud - 11k; Vashwood; M; Canon-verse; Vash disappears after a skirmish and is gone so long that the gang starts to give up, but Wolfwood can't let him go so easily; Vash had no clue anyone would be so dedicated in looking for him

Gun to a Bar Fight by ValiantRose ( @sleepyartcryptid) - 11k; Vashwood; M; Modern AU; VW get caught up in a bar fight and kind of maybe feel stupidly drawn to each other; shaking these dumbasses they're so cute I hope they get married

Shoot the Moon by @hypermoyashi - 14k; Vashwood; M; Canonverse; Wolfwood Whump; Wolfwood has to make some not very safe decisions to break Vash out of his creature/Plant state; "the existential horror of being in love with a nuclear reactor" is my new favorite tag; Vash gets so upset about hurting Wolfwood and Wolfwood is so intentional with his love in this, I adore them

Black is the Color by @tenshinokorin - 15k; Vashwood; M; Post Trimax fix-it/resurrection; Three years after the events of Trimax, Vash realizes his hair is coming back in blond. He also realizes he's not as alone as he thought he was; I bought a poster of fanart for this, is how much I love it. In case you were wondering

I Believe in the Kingdom Come by @tenshinokorin - 17k; Vashwood; M; Sequel to Someday out of the Blue; Post Trimax fix-it/reincarnation AU; Vash and Nick are still together, though they both have their secrets. Wolfwood is closer than anyone realizes

i know i'm known for giving love away by molotovhappyhour - 18k; Vashwood; M; Post-Trimax; Wolfwood stays at a haunted house in the middle of the desert to try to get rid of the spook; The spook is not, in fact, very good at being spooky... and something feels familiar about it, he just can't quite recall why....; This made me wanna cry for so many good reasons, holy shit! And such good story telling UGH

i sought him whom my soul loved by molotovhappyhour - 20k; Vashwood; M; Vash doesn't age, but Wolfwood is reborn after every life and at every time is hit with the full force of his past lives. He always seeks out Vash; crying in the club about this one! Fellas is it gay to search the planet time and time again in every lifetime for the same person? To wait every time to be found, never knowing when that time may be? I hate it here

Figure Me Out by WateredMyCrops ( @what-immortal-hand-or-eye) - 33k; Vashwood; M; Canon-verse; 5+1 of Vash being inhuman and Wolfwood showing him he doesn't care; really check the tags on this one

Entertaining Strangers by @deludedfantasy - 41k; Vashwood; M; Modern AU; Fiber Artist Vash; Guardian Angel Wolfwood; Wolfwood is sent to the human world to find a child to protect, but instead he meets Vash, who lets him stay in his home and takes care of him; So nice to see angel Wolfwood, and I really loved how it was done; Seeing Wolfwood's care for those around him is precious

Kill Me With A Smile by @ShyKokiriMouse - 43k; Vashwood; M (treat this like it's E, it does contain explicit sex scenes); Tattoo Artist Vash; Florist Wolfwood; Spanish speaking Wolfwood; Wolfwood works next to a tattoo shop and is intrigued and confused by Vash, who always seems to cover his tattoos; First of all I am a tattoo artist Vash truther, thank you very much; This is my favorite VW flavor!!! Both pining, Wolfwood so hopelessly gone he can't stop himself, and Vash incredibly emotionally constipated

Open Me Up by WateredMyCrops (@what-immortal-hand-or-eye) - 47k; Vashwood; M; Canon-verse; part 2 of Figure Me Out, but this time Wolfwood gets Known; for real, check the damn tags

Fatherhood Looks Good on You by frankiesin ( @wolfwoodweddingdress) - 62k; Vashwood; M; Modern AU - Roommates; Social worker Wolfwood; Vash comes to Wolfwood with a desperate plea to help him adopt two children, and Wolfwood has never been good at saying no to the man he's in love with

Aces in Space by @hypermoyashi - 70k; Vashwood; M; Sci-fi AU; Royalty AU; Prince Vash; Childhood friends; Demi Vash; Greyace Wolfwood; Wolfwood has long accepted that prince Vash is dead, no matter how hard Knives tries to find him. But when a stowaway on his ship looks very much like Vash might at this age... it gives him an idea; Listen I love Moya's writing, their world-building, Meryl and Milly's whole existence!!! And the budding relationship for Vashwood is so, so precious

Make Light Work by @hypermoyashi - 77k; Vashwood; M; Tristamp; T4T; Vash wakes up with severely impaired vision and has to learn to adapt; The description of this as Vash navigates his world with barely any ability to see is honestly just so fucking good

home is just a room full of my safest sounds by halfdemonvash - 29k+; Vashwood; M; Modern AU - Neighbors; Wolfwood takes in a cat only to find her rightful owner lives literally across the hall from him. He gets too attached to both of them very quickly; cat dad Wolfwooooooddd!!!! And him and Vash are so cute and Kuroneko is a little shit I love her so much

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if you scrolled this far down, you're so fucking gay, i love you

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grlsbstshot · 9 days ago

Text

NEON LIGHTS

Pairing (Original Characters):

Jameson Lucas (Aaron Pierre) x Imani St. Cirie (Megan thee Stallion) Genie Adesanya (Jayme Lawson) x Ellington “EJ” Dupree (Kelvin Harrison Jr.)

Chapters:

Neon Lights Masterlist

Chapter Synopsis: A year has passed since Imani and Jameson's painful breakup. Once again, fate draws the two together again...but it's not as joyful reunion as either thought they'd have.

Warnings: smut (18+), toxic relationship, mentions of therapy, out of control drinking, and emotional breakdowns, sex (p in v, creampie, dirty talk) -- if we missed anything, let us know!

Word Count: 8k

Divider Template: @cafekitsune

Notes:

The following characters are original creations. Their voice claims are Usher / Lucky Daye (Jameson) & Summer Walker / SZA (Imani). We have no affiliation to any of those artists.

Anaïs Lucas sat at her writing desk, the faint scent of her signature jasmine lingering in the air. The room was quiet, save for the rhythmic ticking of the antique clock on the wall. She flipped through the pile of papers in front of her, gaze landing on the embossed invitations for Jameson’s album release party.

Pride made her smile. Her son had an advantage when he got into the industry, yes. He had her name and his good looks but nobody could ever pretend her baby couldn’t sing or that he didn’t work his ass to keep what he got. After he announced he was pushing back his album last winter, Anaïs watched people doubt him. Come January 2026 – a few short weeks from then – they would know that he was worth the wait.

She picked one up, running her fingers over the gold lettering.

You are cordially invited to the premiere of Midnight & Dawn A celebration of James Lucas’ third album

It was elegant, timeless—everything she’d expect from her son’s team. Yet, as perfect as it seemed, something was missing.

Or rather, someone.

The party was in a matter of days and she knew for a fact that Imani wasn’t on the guest list. It made sense. The two had broken up and hadn’t so much as whispered each other’s name in public. Imani had moved on. Jameson had moved on. The cute little girl she’d seen him out with – but had yet to meet – seemed to be distracting him just enough.

But she knew her son. She knew what he wanted. She tried not to be that kind of mother but she couldn't help herself. He was her only child and she wanted him to be happy. She just wouldn't be mentioning any of this to Toni, Imani's aunt and her closest friend.

Anaïs reached for her phone, dialing a number she knew by heart. “Anderson? It’s Anaïs.” Her voice was warm but commanding, the kind that left little room for argument.

Anderson Allen was the head of public relations at Jameson’s label. He had insisted on signing a deal with a label that didn’t feature his mother but it didn’t mean that she didn’t have connections. “Ms. Lucas! What a surprise. How can I help you?”

“I was getting ready for Jamie’s party,” she began, her tone casual but deliberate. "But I heard that the guest list wasn’t complete. You all work so hard over there. I would hate for an omission to ruin the party."

Anderson hesitated. “Omission?”

“Yes. Imani St. Cirie,” Anaïs said smoothly.

The pause on the other end of the line was longer this time. “I—I wasn’t sure if that would be appropriate, given their history. Jameson hasn’t mentioned—”

Anaïs cut him off with a light laugh. “Oh, Andy, let’s not overthink this. Imani is an important part of Jameson’s life, personally and professionally. Inviting her would be…a gesture of goodwill. Besides, I’m sure she’d appreciate the opportunity to celebrate his success.”

Anderson’s voice was cautious. “I suppose we could add her to the list…”

“Wonderful,” Anaïs said, her smile bright. “I’d like to personally handle delivering her invitation. Consider it my little project.”

“Of course, Ms. Lucas. I’ll have one prepared and sent to your house immediately.”

“You’re a gem, Anderson. Thank you.”

Anaïs ended the call and leaned back in her chair, a satisfied expression on her face. She didn’t need anyone’s permission to do what she believed was right for her baby.

When the invitation arrived later that afternoon, Anaïs carefully wrote Imani’s name on the envelope in her graceful script. She slipped it into a sleek courier envelope and sealed it with a flourish.

“Deliver this directly to Ms. St. Cirie,” she instructed the courier who arrived at her door less than an hour later. “Make sure it’s in her hands before the day is over.”

As the courier left, Anaïs poured herself a celebratory glass of champagne. She wasn’t blind to the complications of Jameson and Imani’s past, but sometimes, fate needed a little help—and Anaïs Lucas was more than happy to provide it.

The studio was alive with energy, even though it was just the two of them. EJ asked for them to run through the albums again. They'd been previewed for the label, accepted, turned in, and there was release party planned for the next night...but still. He wanted to hear the album one more time. Jameson didn't hesitate to go. As the final song climaxed, EJ poured whiskey into two glasses. He slid one across the console to Jameson, who sat slouched in his chair.

“To the masterpiece,” EJ said, raising his glass. “A double-disk album. That’s some legendary-level ambition from my boy.”

Jameson laughed, shaking his head as he reached for the glass. "Very glad I could surprise you all."

EJ snorted. "Hey! I believed in you always. It was touch and go there for a while for everybody else. When you pushed the album back, them niggas started getting nervous. But I knew...my boy was gone get into his bag. I just ain't expect two damn albums at once."

Jameson smirked, tapping his glass against EJ’s before taking a sip. “Here’s hoping they don't flop.”

“Flop?” EJ scoffed, leaning back in his chair. “You’re about to shut the whole industry down. Tomorrow night’s party is gonna be the start of something huge. We need to celebrate. Let’s go grab a drink. Celebrate properly.”

Jameson shook his head, setting the glass down as he finished off the amber liquid. “Un-uh. I’m good, man. I’m tired as fuck. You kept me chained to the recording booth most of the year. I'm going home. Getting in the bed.”

EJ smiled at his friend. “You sure? A little fun won’t kill you.” “Yeah, I’m sure,” Jameson said.

With nothing left to do, EJ finished his drink and threw his hands up. "Alright. I did my best. Aye...I'm proud of you."

Jameson wrinkled his nose, standing from his seat and grabbing his jacket. "Don't get soft on me and shit."

EJ followed his movements, a serious expression on his face. "I'm for real. I was worried about you. Not because of the album. Just because you're my friend. You came out the other side of that shit and I'm proud. I was glad when you stopped drinking every day and started getting fresh air but...therapy? Channeling your shit into music? Camille? You’re looking ahead. I'm happy for you, man."

Even without him saying her name, she lingered between them. Imani was the unspoken, untouched aspect of his life that he still couldn't face. Still, he knew EJ meant well so Jameson smiled. “Thank you. For everything. You been solid while I got myself together. I owe you, E.”

It was a rare moment when the two stopped teasing each other enough to express what they felt. If Genie was his sister, EJ was his brother. He didn’t know who he’d be without either of them. Before he could change his mind, Jameson leaned in and gave EJ a tight hug. It only lasted a second but he could feel the other man hug him back.

“Alright. Enough of that.” EJ muttered, breaking away and shoving Jameson’s shoulder playfully. “Go home. Go be boring. I’m going to kiss my girlfriend until she blushes.”

He still couldn't wrap his head around EJ and Genie. When Genie had shyly told him she was dating EJ, his first reaction had been disbelief. He never felt a vibe between them but over the next few months, EJ had proved he was crazy about Genie. So Jameson stepped back. He didn't kick up a fuss or cause a problem. When he found time to get out of his own head, he was happy for them.

It was an innocent statement but Jameson recoiled, holding his hand over his ears. “Ew. Don’t tell me nothing you and Genie got going on.” He quickly picked up his jacket, shrugging it on while EJ laughed, calling out to him.

“You better lock Camille down so you can learn from us!”

Jameson walked through his front door and immediately noticed something was off. The lights in the dining room were dimmed, candles flickering on the table, and soft jazz played from the speakers. He’d left the house silent and dark before going to meet EJ. Only three people had a key beside him. His mother, who was not going to set a scene. Genie, who never used it. And EJ, who he just left. Jameson rounded the corner of his living room, entering the kitchen. There stood a woman, at his sink, with her back to him. He recognized her immediately. The messy way she piled her dark brown hair on the top of her head gave it away.

Camille.

There was something about the way she carried herself—an effortless elegance like she owned the space around her. As one of the most famous young models in the industry, Camille was a striking woman. She held her head high no matter what, her posture perfect. She moved around his kitchen as if this was her home. It was the same way she had approached him – like he was already hers. He admired it, even if it reminded him of someone else, someone he couldn’t quite shake.

“Camille?” he called, dropping his keys on the counter.

She jumped, whirling around with wide eyes. She was wearing an apron with splashes of water on it over her sleek black dress. “You’re…You’re home early.” There were plates on his table, a romantic dinner for two was the obvious aim and he softened. They were casual. Beyond casual but she always took care of him.

Jameson raised an eyebrow, slipping back into the moment. “Am I not supposed to be here?” He asked her, shrugging out of his jacket as he moved further into the kitchen. “How’d you get in?”

“EJ came to let me in before he met you.” She said softly, her gaze following his movements – lingering on his forearms before she turned back to turn the running water off. “H-He was supposed to keep you out for another hour.”

And then it all made sense. The fact that he’d called him out at all to ‘listen’ to an album they’d been listening to for almost a year. Then to want to go out for drinks afterward? His best friend was trying his hand at matchmaking and Jameson couldn’t blame him. Camille was good to him. He’d be a liar to say she wasn’t.

“Ah,” Jameson said, nodding his head. “So, that’s why he was so insistent on hanging out tonight.” He stepped closer, tossing his jacket onto the counter before leaning against it, a sheepish smile tugging at his lips. “Sorry I ruined the surprise.”

Camille pouted but the second she got a good look at him, she brightened and the annoyance melted away. “I thought we could celebrate your album being finished. Just the two of us. I’m happy for you.”

Jameson smiled, feeling a flicker of warmth in his chest. “Thank you. Thank you for coming. Thank you for caring.” He reached out, tugging her closer using the apron. “What’s for dinner?”

“Caprese salad, seared scallops with risotto, and white chocolate raspberry cheesecake.” “Sounds very impressive.” “It is. I slaved over a stove for you.” “I’m flattered.” “You should be. Not all of my friends get this kind of treatment.” “No?” “Un-uh.” “Damn. I must be really good in bed.”

Camille burst out laughing, slapping her hand against his chest. “You’re aight.”

“That wasn’t a no so I don’t think I was wrong.” Jameson teased her, leaning in to kiss her cheek softly. He released the apron before wrapping his arm around her to untie it. When he brought the strap over her head, he tossed it onto the kitchen island

“Jameson! We have dinner. I already prepared the–” “Put it in the oven. We’ll eat it later.”

He didn’t have to explain any further. She watched him pluck a fork from his kitchen drawer and then she went to do exactly as he told her to do. Jameson waited patiently, taking a seat on a bar stool and pulling the cheesecake toward him. Once she was done and the food was set aside, he patted the stool next to him. “C’mon. Get off your feet.”

In her Chanel dress and high heels, Camille made herself comfortable.

They settled at the kitchen counter, side by side on barstools, sharing bites of the rich dessert. Jameson fed her from his fork, kissed her, and put aside the fact that he felt a twinge of guilt for bringing her into his house. This was good. He was moving forward as EJ said. There was nothing wrong with that.

“I’m glad you’re here,” Jameson told her softly, offering her another bite of cheesecake. When she took it, he followed it with a kiss. Light and sweet. She leaned into him, silently asking for more. Instead, Jameson offered her more cheesecake. “I’ve been thinking about you a lot lately.”

She glared at him before his confession became clear. Cami gave him a bright smile, her tongue cleaning the whipped cream her mouth left behind on the fork before she spoke. “There is really nowhere else I’d rather be.”

Imani ran her hands over her dress as she looked over her appearance in the mirror. She did a small turn to the left and then the right to see. No flaws. She looked damn good as usual. She sported a new blonde hair color with hints of pink, a brown sheer dress that accented her curves and left little to the imagination, and her wrist and neck were dazzled in diamonds. It was perfect. Undoubtedly, a ten out of ten. Yet, she sighed and turned her body once more like something would change to make it even better.

“Girl, if you don’t get out that mirror and go to that party, I’m a drag you there myself.” Her hairstylist said. Imani chuckled. “You look good. Now go get your man.”

She waved the woman off. “It ain’t even like that!” She hadn’t seen Jameson since their break-up last year. She only knew him through TV screens, magazines, and as a voice blaring through the club speakers. He was no longer the man that held her at night, told her she was beautiful or showered her with kisses. For the first time since they met, he was James Lucas. And she hated it.

Imani said her goodbyes to her glam team as she sauntered to her door and then to the SUV. She slipped inside then the driver shut the door behind her. She pulled the ring on her ring finger on and off then on and off all over again.

It was the ring that Jameson gifted to her for Christmas last year. She pulled it out of her jewelry box when she was anxious, only wearing it at home to avoid speculation from the media and her fans. It was her stress reliever that no one knew about. But tonight, it served a different purpose.

She wanted Jameson back. Bad. And Imani believed wearing his ring to his album release party would show him that she hadn’t forgotten about him. How could she? He was all she ever thought about. She thought she did the right thing when she ended things with him. They were just going to end in heartbreak like they always did. Imani thought breaking the cycle would solve everything. Yes, she was heartbroken when it happened but she always believed she would get over it and feel better. But she didn’t. She never felt more alone.

For the first three months after their breakup, she distracted herself with work. She dove head first into Diary’s promotional rollout. Anything her label or management wanted her to do, she did it to avoid being with her deafening thoughts of regret and being alone. But her promo tour only lasted for so long. Then she tried partying. She tried drinking. She tried being with other people, but they never lasted long. All she did was compare them to Jameson.

Despite all her efforts, nothing and no one could fill the void in her heart left by Jameson. His memory lingered in every corner of her mind. She wrestled with herself over the thought of reaching out to him, hesitant and afraid of what she might find. What if he had moved on? What if he wanted nothing to do with her anymore? She knew little about his current life, only catching glimpses through a few tabloids. According to them, he now resided in the bustling city of New York and was dating a woman named Camille, but they didn’t seem serious at all. Maybe she still had a chance.

When she received a mysterious invite to his album release party, it felt like fate. A sign that she needed to make a move and get him back. She couldn’t let fear hold her back this time. So she booked a flight to New York with her trusted glam squad to help her and now her plan was underway.

She was still fidgeting with her ring once they reached the club. The blinding lights of the paparazzi never phased her. She didn’t mind the attention. But tonight, their presence only added to the growing uneasiness and heat rising in her skin. Taking a deep breath, she reminded herself not to let them distract her from her goal — winning Jameson back.

With a sigh, she stepped out of the SUV and was immediately swarmed by a frenzy of flashing cameras and shouting reporters. The familiar chaos only felt like an obstacle in her path.

“Imani, you look stunning! Love the new hair.” “Are you here to see James?” “How do you feel about him and Camille? Do you know that they showed up here together?”

The last question nearly stopped her in her tracks. Her heart fell back into the abyss of despair that hope once saved it from. Jameson and Camille? She thought they weren’t serious, so why the fuck was she at the party with him? Fuck! Imani should have stayed home. Too many eyes were on her to turn back now. Instead, she simply smiled at the question and entered the club.

After she was inside, she made a beeline for the bathroom, ignoring all of the eyes and whispers. Imani needed to take his ring off before anyone noticed. She walked inside, thankful that no one was in there. Then she closed and locked the door so no one could see her lose it.

She felt like such a fool. There was a war raging inside of her. Of course, he moved on. It had been a year. Did she expect him to wait forever? But the other side screamed, how dare he move on? He told her they were soulmates. He said he would never give up on them. Was it all a lie? “Just twenty minutes.” She mumbled to herself. “I can do twenty then I’ll leave and go home.”

Imani exhaled deeply. She pulled the ring off of her finger and shoved it into her clutch. She unlocked the bathroom door, opening it, only to be met with Genie.

She stared at her like a prey making eye contact with its predator. Her mind had been so clouded with thoughts of Jameson that she didn’t even think about their storm of friendship. She hadn’t seen Genie since last year. She ignored her texts and phone calls like her best friend was a scorned lover. One day, Imani was going to explain, she just didn’t imagine that day to be today.

The two stared at each other for what felt like an eternity. Imani finally parted her lips to speak. “Genie, I-” She couldn’t even get her sentence out before the woman moved past her and into the bathroom. Imani sighed, deciding that tonight wasn’t the best time to discuss their broken friendship. She walked back into the club and looked for Toni, the only one she talked to during the whole year. Her energy turned into a dark cloud and she needed someone to brighten it if she was going to make it to twenty minutes.

He heard the whispers before he saw her. Imani had shown up.

And finally, he saw her.

For the first time in a fucking year, he laid eyes on her. Not a picture. Not an interview or a photoshoot. He saw her.

Relief hit him so hard that he exhaled sharply. She was okay. After Christmas last year, she had essentially disappeared from his life. He didn’t call, he didn’t text, he had even chosen to unfollow her on Instagram but Jameson quickly found out that he wasn’t the only one left behind. Genie had lost Imani as well.

The two didn’t talk anymore. He had nothing to go by that she was okay. The blogs reported every lover and every move she made…but none had been able to tell him if she was genuinely doing okay. He could see for himself – in the flesh – that she was doing damn good.

She was standing alone in the quickly filling club, framed by the soft glow of lights. He could see her observing the crowd, looking for someone. Was it him? When their eyes met, she seemed frozen. Her eyes went wide and he knew immediately she wasn’t looking for him.

He felt a hand against his stomach and immediately broke eye contact with her. Camille was gazing up at him, a question in her eyes. Jameson had to steady himself before he smiled at her. “I’ll be back.” He heard himself tell her but knew that he shouldn’t leave. He did it anyway, walking across the room as every thought in the world passed through his mind.

The relief that he felt ended, replaced by anxiety. Why did she come? Was she trying to support him? Was she curious about the music? Did she want to rub it in his face that he had lost her? Did she want him to see how fucking good she looked? All of the questions he asked himself set him on edge but he didn’t stop moving in her direction.

His eyes ran from her blonde hair down to her tan dress. And a wave of lust hit him.

The fabric clung to her body. It was barely there. He could see her body, sculpted abs and thick thighs. Perfectly measured underwear that hid…Well, he knew what it hid. He was so intimately acquainted with her body that he could find her in the damn dark. He couldn’t think like this. Jameson shook his head to clear the thoughts but flashes of memories raced through his mind. Late nights with him sinking his teeth into her thighs as they trembled, the way her abdomen contracted when she was coming around his fingers. The way she called out for him, the word ‘Daddy’ fell from her lips. All of it came rushing back to him with stunning clarity. Shit! No. No!

He wasn’t doing this. Camille was watching him. He had to get right. So many fucking therapy sessions and he was backsliding into chaos already.

By the time he got to her, he had control of himself again. “Hi.” He said softly.

He watched as she slowly turned to look at him. There was no ignoring one another. Not right then. Her lips curved into a smile but he knew right then that something was wrong. It didn’t meet her eyes. She didn’t light up the way she usually did when she was happy.

“Hi, Jameson.” “Thank you for coming. It’s nice to see you.” “I…It’s nice to see you too.”

A lull of silence hit them and awkwardness set in. Before, they could talk about anything and everything but now? He didn’t know what to say.

EJ found Camille standing near the edge of the room, sipping a glass of champagne with practiced ease. She looked every bit the supermodel she was, tall and poised, her sleek black gown clinging to her statuesque frame. But her eyes—dark, searching—betrayed her. She was watching Jameson, observing the way his gaze seemed to drift toward Imani no matter where she stood. Even when he excused himself from her side and greeted other partygoers, everybody in the room knew where he was going.

EJ stepped up beside her, his presence casual but deliberate. “You’re handling this well,” he said, his tone low enough to keep their conversation private from prying ears.

Camille turned her head slightly, offering him a polite smile. “Handling what?”

He gave her a knowing look, one that made her sigh and take another sip of her drink. She broke the pretense that nothing was happening. “You’re not blind, Camille. You see the way he looks at her. And the way she avoids looking at him. There’s history there—deep, messy history. You’ve got to know that.”

Camille’s expression didn’t waver, but she set her glass down on the nearby table, folding her hands neatly in front of her. “I know,” she said simply.

EJ raised an eyebrow. “And you good with that?”

She shrugged, the movement graceful but dismissive. “What am I supposed to do? Pretend it doesn’t exist? Jameson’s been honest with me about Imani. I know what she means to him.”

EJ leaned in slightly, his voice dropping. “What she means to him and what she still means to him might not be the same thing. I’m not saying this to scare you off, but if you’re serious about Jameson, you need to be ready to fight for him. Because that connection they have? It’s not something that just disappears.”

Camille tilted her head, studying him for a moment. “Do you think I’m not serious about him?”

EJ hesitated, then shook his head. “I think you care about him. I think you’re good for him, too. But I also think Jameson’s still figuring out what he wants. And if you’re not careful, you might end up hurt. She’s got this... gravitational pull on him, sure. But it’s not healthy. You’ve seen how far he’s come this past year. That’s because of you, Camille. Not her.”

Camille’s lips curved into a small, wry smile. “I appreciate the concern, EJ. Really, I do. But I’m not here to fight anyone for Jameson. If he wants to be with me, he knows where I am. And if he doesn’t?” She spread her hands, her tone light but firm. “Then I’ll let him go. I’m not the kind of woman who clings to someone who doesn’t want to stay.”

EJ studied her, a flicker of respect crossing his face. “You’re a lot calmer about this than I expected.”

Camille chuckled softly, her gaze drifting back toward Jameson, who had finally approached Imani. “I’ve spent my entire career competing—for jobs, for recognition, for respect. But love? That’s not something you should have to fight for. Either it’s there, or it’s not. And if Jameson’s heart is still with Imani, then there’s no point in pretending otherwise.”

EJ nodded slowly, impressed by her composure. “Fair enough. Just... be careful. He’s a good guy, but if things get messy—”

“They won’t,” Camille interrupted gently. “Because I won’t let them. I care about Jameson, but I care about myself too. If he can’t give me what I deserve, I’ll walk away. Simple as that.”

EJ exhaled, his shoulders relaxing slightly. Camille smiled again, this time with a touch of warmth. “Thanks, EJ. But don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine, no matter what happens.”

EJ glanced back toward Jameson, then back at Camille. He nodded, a silent acknowledgment of their conversation, and stepped away, leaving her to watch Jameson from afar, her expression unreadable.

“You look good.” He said softly, immediately regretting the words. “I mean, I like your dress.” Nope, that was fucked up too.

“Thanks,” Imani looked at his outfit. It was already difficult for her to face him, but did he have to look handsome too? This may have been the second hardest thing she’s ever done. “You look uh—you look nice too.”

He peered down at his fit. All black, Gucci. Jameson lifted his hand, pressing it to his sleeve as if he just realized he was wearing clothes worth five grand. “Thank you. It’s just…something thrown together. I’m glad you came. Really.”

“Yeah, I’m glad I did too. Congrats on the album, Jameson. I’m—“ she paused, searching for the right words to say. “really happy for you.”

“Really?” He tilted his head, peering down at her. “Then why do you look upset?”

“I’m fine. It’s nothing.” Imani answered quickly. She wasn’t fine at all. She made the wrong decision to come to this party and now, she had to face a best friend who probably hated her and an ex she was still in love with. She was mentally kicking herself. But he didn’t need to know that.

He knew it wasn’t true but he couldn’t exactly call her on it. That wasn’t his place anymore. “Mhm.” He said softly, giving a nod. “I…I really do hope you’re okay, Imani. Things ended between us but I want you to be happy. Always.”

“I..I want you to be happy too,” she said, folding her arms over her chest. “I’m glad to see that you are. I really am.”

“Thank you. It…it took a while to get back to being happy.” The conversation between them was so fucking stiff and he hated it. He watched her fold her arms against her chest, knowing there was a wall between them. They talked to each other like strangers. Once upon a time, he could tell her anything. They could say everything to one another – except the shit that really mattered. And now they couldn’t say anything at all. “Finishing the album helped. Wouldn’t have been able to do that without a lot of people. You included.”

She nodded. “Well, I’m glad I could help. I can’t wait to hear it.” Imani smiled. “Uh, I’m going to go look for Toni now. I’ll see you around?”

He opened his mouth to say something – anything – but instead, he felt a hand against his arm. Jameson turned to look down at her, surprised by her presence. “There you are.” She said softly.

Imani looked between the couple, still with a smile that he couldn’t tell if it was fake or not. “Hi, I’m Imani.” She reached her hand out. Her eyes glanced down at his wrist. She looked back at Jameson with narrowed eyes. The watch on his wrist looked like the one she had sent him a year. Why the fuck was he wearing that? While he was with another woman?

His head turned so quickly that he almost sprained his damn neck. He watched as Imani introduced herself to Camille, in such a friendly way that he was almost offended. Damn. She could at least pretend to be jealous. Camille gave her a smile in return and reached out to grasp Imani’s hand and Jameson inhaled sharply. He did not see this coming and he wasn't sure if he liked it.

“Nice to meet you.” She said. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Imani let go of Camille’s hand. “Nice to meet you as well. You’re very pretty.” She looked back at Jameson. Then at Camille. “Well, I��m going to leave you guys to it. Have a good night.” She said, turning around and walking away quickly before she could hear another word from either of them.

It took a minute for Genie to pull herself together. When she passed Imani, it had broken her heart not to say anything but she couldn’t believe it. She couldn’t believe any of this shit. When Jameson and Imani broke up, her heart broke for them both. She didn’t know the details but knew it was bad. Jamie was drinking heavily and Imani was out of contact. But she kept trying. She would start by sending a message every week. Then it became every single day. She wanted to be there for Imani. She begged her to reach out if she needed anything…and she never did.

It was like she lost her best friend. At first, Genie grieved. Every time something wonderful happened with EJ, she wanted to pick up the phone and call Imani…but she knew she wouldn’t answer. Then the grief turned into anger. She resented being so easy to forget.

“I shouldn’t have come,” she finally said, her voice shaky as she approached EJ. She could see his jovial attitude shift when he saw the look on her face. “I don’t know what I thought I’d feel seeing her again, but this wasn’t it.” She hadn’t even known Imani would be there but she knew that maybe there would be a good chance. Still, seeing her again had been a shock to the system.

EJ ushered her from the main floor, getting her comfortable in an isolated corner as he watched her with a steady, concerned gaze. “You wanted to see your best friend. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

“She’s not my best friend anymore,” Genie snapped, then immediately winced at her attitude. “I’m sorry, baby. I’m sorry. I don’t mean to snap at you. I just…” She blinked back tears, pressed her hands against her temples. “I mean... she was. For so long. But now? I can barely look at her. She completely shut me out.”

EJ leaned forward, pressing a kiss to her temple. “It’s probably not anything you did, baby. Maybe Imani needed space. It had to hurt ending things with Jay.”

Genie looked up at him, her eyes still glistening with unshed tears. “Of course she’s hurting. I know that. I just... I’ve tried, EJ. I’ve called, texted, even sent emails. Nothing. And now, after all this time, she shows up here, at Jameson’s party of all places, looking like she’s completely fine. Like she doesn’t even care that I miss her.”

Her voice broke on the last word, and she quickly turned away, pretending to adjust the strap of her dress. EJ sighed and crossed the room to her, his movements slow and deliberate, giving her space but offering his presence.

“She does care,” he said softly, though there was a flicker of something sharper in his tone. “You don’t just forget someone like you, Genie. Maybe she’s just... not ready to face everything yet.”

Genie let out a bitter laugh, swiping at her cheek. “It’s been a year. How much longer do I have to wait? How much longer do I have to pretend it doesn’t hurt that she’s just... gone?”

EJ placed a hand on her shoulder, grounding her. “You don’t have to pretend with me. You’re allowed to feel this. It’s okay to be angry, to be sad, to miss her. Just don’t let it eat you up inside.”

Genie turned to him, the tears finally spilling over. “I don’t know how to let it go. She was my person, EJ. And now, it’s like I don’t even exist to her.”

EJ’s jaw tightened as he pulled her into a hug, his arms wrapping around her tightly. He couldn’t help the frustration bubbling in his chest—not just for what Imani’s absence had done to Genie but for the pain she had caused Jameson too. He didn’t say it aloud, but part of him felt like Imani had been selfish, leaving behind the people who had loved her most.

“You exist,” he murmured against her hair, pushing aside his bitterness for Genie’s sake. “And you’re not alone. I’ve got you.”

For a moment, Genie let herself believe him. In the quiet of EJ’s arms, she let herself grieve, not just for the friendship she had lost but for the part of herself that felt like it had been left behind with Imani.

EJ held her tighter, his mind drifting back to Imani’s face at the party. He’d keep his thoughts to himself, but if she ever wanted back into their lives, she’d have to prove she deserved it.

Imani’s patience was wearing thin, and she couldn’t last another minute in this crowded club. What the hell was she thinking, flying thousands of miles to see a man she hadn’t spoken to in a year? She shoved her way through the throngs of people, not bothering to find her aunt in the chaos. All she wanted was to escape, to retreat to her hotel room and try to make sense of everything.

As she burst through the club doors and into the cool night air, Imani finally exhaled the breath she had been holding since running into Genie. But it didn’t bring any relief. Everything felt like shit and it was all her fault. The weight of loneliness settled on her shoulders like a familiar burden, one that always found its way back to her despite her best efforts to keep it at bay. But this time it hit harder than ever before and threatened to swallow her whole.

Before she could fully immerse herself in the depths of her sadness, a familiar voice jolted Imani out of her thoughts. “Mani? Leaving so soon?” It was Jameson, accompanied by Camille, their arms entwined as they walked towards her. Imani’s heart dropped at the sight, knowing that she was once in Camille’s place. A pang of envy and longing washed over her, but she quickly masked it with a forced smile. “Oh, I’m not feeling well, so I’m a head out,” she lied, trying to sound nonchalant. Jameson’s eyes narrowed slightly as if he could sense something was off. But then Camille leaned in closer and placed a gentle kiss on his cheek, distracting him. “I know y’all ain’t out here to bring me back.”

Camille’s laughter tinkled through the air, her eyes sparkled as she glanced at Jameson. “No, we decided to leave early.” she said with a grin playing on her lips. Imani squinted at Jameson, studying his facial features intently. There was something off about him. She couldn’t quite put her finger on it.

“Why are you leaving your album release party so soon? Is everything alright?” Imani’s voice was gentle but curious, her gaze searching Jameson’s face for any clues. “I’m just tired,” he answered, but there was a slight quiver in his voice that betrayed his words. Imani could see the lie in his eyes, but she knew better than to press the issue. That was Camille’s job now.

“Jameson and I are going to go get some rest,” Camille said softly, doting on a 6’3 grown ass man like he was a baby. She wanted to hate it...but she knew she'd done the same when they were together. Imani’s eyes flicked back to Camille as she pat his chest and gazed at him. She tried to think of something to say next to the couple, but she was too focused on the way she said his name. It replayed over and over again in her mind. Her stomach was in knots at the sound of it.

She was reminded of all of the times she used to call him that. Then she looked back at Camille. She was still looking at Jameson with the same look Imani used to have. Imani hated how he could invoke that look in another woman. She was the only one who should get to experience the look of love, lust, and admiration. She hated him for it.

Where the fuck was her driver? She pulled her phone out of her clutch, opening it with her Face ID. She tapped over onto her call log, realizing that she never fucking called him. Imani was in such a rush to get away from the couple in the club that she forgot to do it. And yet, she still ended up face-to-face with them again. Fate wanted to torture her tonight.

Imani quickly tapped the contact name and asked the driver to come get her. Luckily, he was just around the corner. There was silence between the three of them. Everything she planned on saying to him before her arrival was thrown out of the window when she first arrived. It all had fallen to shit. Now, her imagination filled those spaces of broken words. All she could see was Camille and Jameson, full of lust, in his house together doing what she would have done to him after his album release party.

Thankfully for her, Imani’s driver finally pulled up and disrupted her thoughts. He got out and opened the door for her. She walked over to the SUV, stepping inside of the car. “I’ll see you guys later…” She said, looking over her shoulder. She hoped her words never came to fruition.

“Be safe and have a good night,” Jameson said lowly, watching her leave. She nodded, sitting down in the passenger seat of the vehicle. The driver closed the door. Once he pulled away from the curve, she pulled out the ring again. She toyed with it in her hands. Imani went into this party, hoping that the ring would spark a new meaning. She had no idea that meaning would be that it was her only connection to Jameson.

"You too quiet." Jameson muttered, pulling his hand from Camille's mouth. She gasped for breath when he did, immediately moaning out his name. "That's much better."

"Yes, baby. Right there. So good."

She was breathless as she clung to him. They were in the middle of his bed, she was on his lap -- long limbs wrapped around his neck and hips as she ground her hips against his.

Jameson groaned, feeling Camille's tightness stretch around him. Her enthusiasm was always a turn on and he let out a long, slow moan as he thrust deeper. Each powerful stroke, sending vibrations through her body that made her whimper in delight. Every time she moved on top of him, her breasts bounced enticingly against his chest, sending shivers down his spine.

"Ooh! D-Don't stop. Jamie! Just like that..."

The scent of sweat and sex filled the air as they moved together in perfect harmony. The sound of skin slapping against skin echoed through the room, mingling with their heavy breathing and tender moans. Camille's nails raked down his neck and back, leaving small trails of pleasure and pain that only fueled his desire further. He gripped her hips tightly, holding her close as they lost themselves in each other's touches.

He lifted his head to capture her mouth, tongue brushing against her own as he plunged deeper into her mouth -- imitating their movements. Their tongues danced together sensually while their bodies moved in rhythm on the bed beneath them. As he felt himself nearing climax, Jameson pulled back from the kiss to look into Camille's eyes - filled with lust and desire - before letting out a long growl.

"You like that, baby?" She asked him softly and Jameson nodded, words escaping him as his grip tightened on her hips. They'd been sleeping together long enough that she knew what it meant. She pushed her hands against his shoulders, legs unwinding from around him as he went crash back onto the bed. "Go ahead. Give it to me, Jamie." she whimpered.

Camille's nails dug into Jameson's skin as she rode him, leaving small crescents that stung but only made him harder. He groaned deeply, his hands finding purchase in the sheets as he arched his hips and thrust into her. He felt every curve of her body against him, every undulation sending shockwaves through his dick.

"That's what you want?" He asked her through gritted teeth. "Yes!" She responded, nodding her head. "I deserve it. I'm your good girl."

He couldn't take it much more. His head fell back onto the bed, eyes closed, but his hands knew where to go. He lifted them from the sheets, grasping her hip with the left and relentlessly rubbing at her clit with his right thumb. Camille's legs tightened against his outer thighs as she crumbled forward and came on top of him with a shout.

With a final thrust, Jameson cried out as he came inside her, their bodies trembling together in unison. As they came down from their high, Camille cuddled against Jameson's chest, their hearts beating in sync. She nibbled on his earlobe softly before pulling away slowly with a satisfied smile on her lips.

He sat in the dark in his living room, the only light coming from the faint glow of the city through the curtains. The house was silent, save for the occasional creak of the old floorboards settling. Jameson fiddled with the watch on his wrist, loosening the band and twisting it around, but he couldn’t bring himself to take it off.

Camille had gone to sleep hours ago, slipping into sleep with the ease of someone unburdened. For a couple of hours, he managed to forget…everything.

But when it was over, and Camille’s breathing had evened out beside him, he lay awake, staring at the ceiling. The weight of his thoughts returned with a vengeance, and they all centered on one person.

Imani.

The way she had looked at the party—poised but distant, like she was shielding herself from the room, from him—was burned into his memory. He couldn’t stop replaying the moment she left, her face unreadable as she slipped into the car. He had been overwhelmed by her presence, thrown off balance by the sight of her after so long.

When she had walked away, leaving him and Camille standing there, all he could do was grab a passing glass of champagne. Then another. He had swallowed down two before he realized what he was doing—regressing, using alcohol to dull the sharp edge of his emotions.

He had told Camille he wanted to leave. She didn’t hesitate, her concern for him evident as she agreed. But as they made their way out, they ran into Imani on the street.

The moment replayed in his mind like a loop he couldn’t escape. The brief, stilted conversation. The way she looked at him like she was holding back a storm of emotions. And then she was gone, slipping away into the night.

Her face was trapped in his mind now, every detail vivid and unrelenting. The way her lips pressed together as if holding back words. The flicker of something—pain? anger?—in her eyes. He couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong.

All he wanted to do was fix it.

But that wasn’t his job anymore.

He brushed a hand over his head, exhaling sharply as he tried to shake off the thoughts. The urge to call her was overwhelming, a near-physical pull, but he knew it would be a mistake. One glimpse, one rushed conversation, and he was right back where he’d been months ago—thinking of her, wanting her, needing to know if she was okay.

He needed to get a damn grip.

Jameson sat up, running his hands over his face. The watch shifted on his wrist, its weight a constant reminder of the past he couldn’t quite let go of. The room felt too quiet, too still, and his thoughts too loud.

He stood, padding softly out of the living room and into the kitchen, boxers slung low on his hips. He poured himself a glass of water and leaned against the counter, staring out at the city lights.

He had made progress this year, clawing his way out of the darkness that had consumed him after their breakup. He had rebuilt his life piece by piece, and Camille had been a steady presence through it all. But tonight had unraveled something in him, and he hated that it was Imani who had the power to do that.

He sighed, setting the glass down. He couldn’t keep letting her haunt him like this. He wouldn’t.

#aaron pierre #megan thee stallion #aaron pierre fanfic #aaron pierre x black!oc #megan thee stallion fanfic #megan thee stallion x black!oc #original characters #celebrity fanfic #fic: neon lights #Spotify

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piracytheorist · 4 months ago

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Twilight Eyes Project: "The Prestigious School's Interview" (part 3)

Part 1 | Part 2

Previous episodes analyses

After the blunder at the Eden interview, the Forgers sit in their living room, disheartened and worrying for the future of the family.

Twilight, in particular, sits with his head down and pensive Twilight eyes as he chastises himself for letting his emotions get the better of him and potentially cost him the entire mission.

To him, this might be the very end of the mission right here. It was a very delicate mission to begin with, and all that's needed is a small mistake to throw it off-balance. Has that mistake already been made?

Lost in his thoughts as he is, he doesn't realize how Anya and Yor have taken that whole situation - and he only sees it when Anya, dejected, apologizes to him for not doing well at the interview.

His eyes soften, though keeping the harsh strokes of "Twilight eyes", as he looks genuinely shaken by how impacted Anya is. Not exactly the usual "sad eyes" focused panel, but it's close.

He replies to her that there's nothing for her to apologize for, and that Eden is a school she wouldn't really want to go anyway; it's only because he chose it for her. He's trying to alleviate her guilt by reminding her that she had no choice in the situation, he was the one who randomly took her from an orphanage and threw her into immediate preparation for an elite school.

Little does he know, however, that Anya chose pretty much all of that. And so, when Anya walks up to him and leans on him, his surprise shows in wide real eyes.

Anya makes it clear that she wants to go to Eden, that she has to go there. The anime adds a close-up of his face falling in sympathy for her.

Anya stresses and worries herself for her entrance at Eden, and while he may not fully understand the reason why, her dedication touches him.

I would dare say it even worries him back. His mission is to carry all of that responsibility and stress on his back so that children won't have to do that themselves. It's not ideal to see Anya try and carry some.

But, he's been vulnerable long enough. Now it's time for him to pull himself back and analyze the situation. Twilight eyes are back, as he concludes that things are not looking well.

There's an interesting difference in the manga, between the way he looks at Yor and the way he looks at Anya. The face on the left is him looking at Yor - open eyes, relaxed brow. The one in the middle is how he looks at Anya - narrowed eyes, furrowed brow, tight lips.

It's no surprise. Even though he sees Yor as simply another asset of the mission, he sees her as more of an equal, who has faith in her words and is smart enough to make her own conclusions. So when she says they can still hope, he seems to think himself that wait, they can?

But then Anya adds her thoughts, and understandably, he doesn't see her as someone who is mature and experienced enough to know of such things. So when she says Evans and Henderson liked them, he seems to think that she's hoping too high.

The anime kept a look that's closer to how he looks at Yor. In any case, their words touch him, and we get an extra look in the anime, and interestingly enough, a sad eyes shot as well.

In the end, he concludes it's out of his hands now, and all he can do is wait for the results to come out. His eyes relax and soften, and he comforts Anya and Yor, praising their hard work.

In the last big image we get of him, his eyes are big and lively.

Those last two faces may not be his real expression; right now they've done all they could, and there's no reason for anyone else to worry, so he tries alleviating the others from the stress. It may not be an ideal situation for him, far from it, but he shifts his focus into comforting them, and I find that quite interesting. There's no reason for him to do that; if Anya passes, they'll all be happy, if she fails, the mission will end, they'll part ways and he'll never see them again. Yet, he seems to recognize how hard they worked, and after Anya's short confession, how invested they also were in it, so he makes sure they know that's appreciated. So whether his last expressions were forced or not doesn't matter, because the action of recognizing their efforts speaks for itself.

(no manga spoilers please)

#Spy x Family #Loid Forger #sxf meta #sxf tep

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sssilverstoned · 1 year ago

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while you can still smell them ꩜ ln4

type: full length fic

word count: 3.9k

title from: i wish you roses by kali uchis

warnings: some fluff, angst, but like it's a happy ending. cursing bc i'm me, italics are memories

lily said: you know me i can never leave well enough alone. i thought this little snapshot of the break that was never really a break would be cute! for context, i'd suggest looking at the ig au linked below! this would be taking place in between part 2 and 3.

part 1

part 2

part 3

masterlist

You've only seen Lando cry on occasions that called for it. When family members died, when racing got too much for his mental, in some awful, awful moments. Maybe that's why it hurts so bad to see him cry now.

"A break feels a lot like you should add 'up' to that statement," he had said, turning away from you, looking out at the stars. You were sat on his balcony, feeling suffocated by the apartment. But the AC was on and working fine, and windows were open. Your emotions were suffocating you, that was more fitting.

"We can't keep on like this, Lan," you say in a broken voice, the lump in your throat thick and threatening. "It's not fair to either of us."

He doesn't realize he's crying until the drop hits his nose, making it quirk up in surprise. He swipes at his face, a pawlike move to get rid of the teardrops.

"Do you not love me anymore?"

His question makes you sob. Full body, head dropping to chest, your hands writing in your lap. The sound of you breaking down turns him back to you, rushing to the chair you've melted into. He lifts your face in his hands, and you take a breath when you see his face, discolored with tears.

"I'll always love you," he makes out of your words, just barely. "I, I just, it's not the same,"

"We can fix this, us. We can work on it together," Lando's brain is whirring at hyper speed, damage controlling the last 8 months of your lives together.

The cracks began to become schisms when he committed your largest pet peeve, which was ignoring things out of ease. Blissful ignorance, if you will.

It was small things, like forgetting about date nights in lieu of longer trainings or prolonging trips. Sometimes he forgot to water the plants, or didn't move laundry over, and that was manageable. That's what every couple encounters. What every couple does not encounter, was the intense pressure of racing a car for a living.

He was frustrated, with Zak, with anything papaya colored, and with his own self-doubts. He carried that frustration in his chest, and it came out in some of the words he spoke to you, and actions he took. You eventually stopped offering to come over and cook, because dinners were becoming continuously tense, and you were uncomfortable. Felt like a nuisance.

But at the same time, you were both so codependent. Without anything being said, you two began to avoid things you assumed the other wouldn't like, and asked for permission to do the smallest of things. You first noticed it when your sister pointed had asked you to come go with her out of town for the weekend, and you hesitated. "I'll have to ask Lando," you had told her. She bit her tongue.

Lando was just as bad, he had quite literally lost the ability to sleep when you weren't around. It made Grand Prix weekends an actual nightmare when you weren't there, calling you at any times in the day or night.

"Are you alright, it's 4am,"

"Sorry, can't sleep again. The melatonin does nothing,"

"Did you try the tea my mum got you?"

"Baby I just," he scrubs a hand down his exhausted face. "I just need you here."

"I can't just get up and go to Australia."

"I'll get you a flight, or maybe we can-"

"Lando," you say in a sterner voice. "I can't."

He's quiet for a moment, and you wonder what's going through his head. You hardly raised your voice or got intense, certainly never at him. But then again, recently, you seemed to never know what was going through his head.

It was silly to think that Lando was the same man that you began dating. You were 19, you would pray that he had changed somehow over the span of 5 years. But there was something missing that once was. The relationship was becoming more of a task, and that wasn't right. Which is what brought you to this moment, brought you to telling him you needed to talk.

"Lan," you whimper, bringing a hand up where his hold your face on either side. You don't even have to say anything more, he knows you better than you know yourself. And he begins to cry harder.

"I've never loved anyone but you, baby."

"I know."

"I can't, I really don't want to live without you," he shakes his head, standing back up to his full height. His hands stay busy, though, ripping through his hair.

"I'm not going to go away," you explain, agonized that you're calmer than he at this point. You stand from the wicker chair, but don't edge closer to him. "But my career is unpredictable right now, 6 months in Marbella is a long time. And you're, well, everywhere. And you need to focus on that."

"I've multitasked for 5 years," he says bitterly, making you sigh. His eyes are back on the stars, and his back to you makes your eyes blurry again.

"I'm not happy." You finally blurt, making his body stiffen. "I'm really not."

When he looks at you again, his expression reads clearly with fatigue, with anguish. "Please, baby, don't,"

It's your turn to clutch his face, bringing his forehead to touch with yours. Through your contact, you feel the heaves of his body, the breaths he's trying to control. "It's not forever," you whisper, mustering courage. "But we need to stop acting like everything's fine."

"I don't see myself without you."

"You're not," your hold tightens, he leans further into your palm, "but we've grown up together. The flower pot's too small now," you try to joke, he barely can fake amusement.

"I'll buy a thousand new pots."

"We need to clean up the broken one, first." His jaw clenches, you soothe it with your thumb. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." He says back, almost silently. "Still wear that Mclaren shirt on race days, I need the luck."

You finally crack a smile. "I'll wear the hat too if my hairstyle permits."

He kisses you, almost convincing himself this if is the last fix he can get for a while, he needed it now. Not that either of you know it, but you both have the same thought. You both notice that your cheeks have each other's tears on them now, not sure which ones came from whom. You were on the same page in that regard, at least.

꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜

"You should ask y/n out," your best friend says to Lando in the middle of a party. He chokes on his drink, not expecting her to come up to him like she did, and not expecting the words out her mouth.

You all were freshly 19, still congregating in someone's living room to try to have a good time. He knew your friends better than he knew you, the newest of the group in town, only having moved to the area with your family when you were 16.

"Should I, now?" He says, recovering from his fright.

"Yeah," she replies, ignoring the sarcasm. "She goes on about you, it's cute. She'd hurt me if she knew I told you, though. Not sure what she sees in you," his eyes narrow at the girl, which she ignores once again. "You'd be lucky to have a girl like her in your life."

That much, he knew. You were fiercely loyal to your friends and family, and treated him with a kindness that made him melt every time. You were funny, and genuine, and not to mention, the most beautiful person he's sure he knows.

When he bumps into you later at the party, he asks you what you're doing the following evening.

That was the story he'd tell people with a proud grin when they ask how you two got together. All you recount is how he nearly ruined your cute top with a shitty guinness.

He's struck with the memory when he sees the guinness logo in the ads on the walls of a restaurant. "Mate," Max all but snaps his fingers. Lando locks back in, humming for what he missed.

"Was just curious if you wanted to go out tonight. They've been texting in the chat about it, I saw you never responded."

Clubbing wasn't as fun as it used to be, not when you weren't dancing your heart out beside him, or waiting in bed with your nose in a book when he came home because you weren't feeling like going out. It felt like a waste of his time, and like he was sucking the fun out of other people's nights.

"'M alright," he says with a tight mouthed grin. "Gonna sit this one out."

Max looks at his friend, seeing through his response. "When's the last time you went out?"

If he had to take an educated guess, you last graced his apartment that night on the balcony, 4 weeks ago. So, 4 weeks ago. Perhaps longer, judging by the schisms. "A while. Not up to it."

"You're torturing yourself."

"I'm not interested in getting shitfaced, Max."

Max looks away for a second, quickly weighing the pros and cons of asking what he's been wanting to for the last, well, 4 weeks. "Do you think Y/n is wallowing too?"

The sound of your name makes his fingers twitch inadvertently, almost like a flinch. "That's not fair."

"I'm serious, Lando. You said she needed a break because she felt like you two were co-dependent and not actually working through problems, and look at you. You're not functioning without her. I mean, it's your fucking birthday next week, and you haven't brought it up once, you realize that, right?"

He knows he's right. Nothing he said was out of line, or wrong, and that's why Lando has nothing to say back. He wants to argue, to prove him wrong, but he can't. He's seen your ads and campaigns, the beautiful shots of you promoting luxury brands and names that your fans only dreamed of owning. Despite the distance, he was so proud of you still. You worked hard, were disciplined and humble through your success. He had texted you when the Dior campaign had launched, and the message of your thanks, with a smiley face, made him, for just a second, think that things were back to normal.

When they left the restaurant, and ran directly into fans, Lando tried to put on his best face for them, smiling for selfies and signing what was gestured toward him. When a sweet looking girl with glasses shyly spoke up, telling her favorite driver where she was visiting from, his tired eyes light up. "You're from there?" He confirms, and she smiles with an eager nod.

"Y/n is too," he almost mumbles, but every fan in earshot heard it. The typical squeals followed, the hushed whispers amonst themselves on if they'd push the questions they were itching to ask or not. And heard it they did, as the encounter made its way onto social media and gossip pages. But Max was right, his mourning period needed to be over, if anything was going to change for the better.

You call him on his birthday. It was nerve wracking, which made you bitterly laugh, because never did you think you'd be nervous to talk to Lando Norris of all people. One of the few people in the world you wholeheartedly trusted.

It had only been about a month since you requested time apart, and he had honored that. The texts were sparse, the calls nonexistent. Although, that was sort of what had brought you to this point anyway. But you were working on yourself, and your career at the same time, and things were looking better. Change never happened overnight, but the journal your therapist recommended, and the disappearance from social media besides professional posts were great starts.

You bite at your cuticle as the phone rings. You take your cell away from your ear, chest panging at the contact name "Lan <3" at the top of the screen. Was he really going to screen your call? Is that what you deserved, possibly?

"Y/n," he finally answers, and you quickly bring your phone back to your ear.

"Hi," you say awkwardly. "Happy birthday, Lando."

"Thank you," he says stiffly. "I'm happy to hear from you."

"Yeah I um, haven't really been on my phone here," you bite harder on your finger. "I think it's nice here, you'd love Marbella."

"I'm sure I would," he says with what you can hear is a smile. "I miss you, you know?"

"I miss you too," you concede, "how have you been?"

"Not great, I won't lie. Much rather would hear about you."

"'s not my birthday," and he smiles a bit at that.

"Well, racing's fine. But Max is sick of my shit, says I've been wallowing."

"Oh. I'm sorry."

"Yeah."

You don't really know what to say, you've rarely been the perpetrator of his negative feelings. No relationship was perfect, but you all hadn't really hit a communication wall until now. It was uncharted, scary territory. "Well, I wanted to wish you a happy birthday, that was all. Have a good day, really. 24 is a big one. Kobe year, that's what someone said to me. I hope this year is great for you."

"Y/n, wait," he halts your beginnings to hang up. "I'd like to come to see you soon, I've got some time before Abu Dhabi and maybe I could swing by Spain on the way."

"Lando," he absolutely hates that you're calling him by his whole name. Lan, that's what would you called him almost exclusively. Lando feels so formal from you.

He needs to hear it, you know he does. He needs to hear that you want to see him, that you need to see him just as much as he yearns to put eyes on you once more. But you were constantly afraid of accidental manipulation, holding him by some invisbile garotte. But this was his first birthday you hadn't celebrated together since you were 19, that meant something.

"Please focus on racing," you implore, and squeeze your eyes shut before adding, "but you if you'd like to come and it won't be an issue in your plans, you're more than welcome."

꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜

You saw the posts, it wasn't very hard. Fans utterly disappointed that you and Lando hadn't been seen together in ages, putting pieces together quickly after you didn't post for his birthday. It didn't make you feel worse, to be truthful, and to your surprise. You were sure there'd be a barrage of insults hurled your way, maybe a cheating rumor or two. But really, all there was to see were requiems for your relationship, nostalgia for what once was. What did cause you to delete instagram from your phone, was the response to the podcast.

You were single for the time being, that's what you and Lando had agreed on when he visited you. It wasn't an invitation to go out and find the next man to lay in your bed, but you both had agreed that it wasn't healthy to hold out in anticipation of your rekindling.

"You're the only girl I've, you know," he awkwardly trailed off, scratching the back of his neck. He sits up in bed, linens pooling around his hips. Hooking up with your now ex-boyfriend, might've not been your brightest idea, sure, but you were both human, at the end of the day.

"Fucked?" you tease, remaining comfortable against your plush pillow. "I know. First few times kinda showed that."

He looks back at you pointedly. "You cried the first time."

"It hurt!"

He rolls his eyes, shaking his head in fake annoyance. You grin. "I'm sure the girlies are gonna have a field day with you being single now,"

He rolls his eyes again, laying, or rathing slumping, back into the pillow next to you. His arm instinctively comes around the top of your head, you try not to lean into it. "I think I really will finally listen to you and focus on racing."

You turn on your side, admiring his profile as he stares up at the ceiling, probably tangled in his thoughts. His nose sloped perfectly, the little freckles dotting his skin like constellations. Your boy.

"I told my mum."

He snorts. "She hates me now, I'm sure."

"Mm, no, her first ask was what I did," your mom was Lando's biggest fan, through and through. Of course, you were her daughter, but she was convinced he was cosmically made perfectly for you.

He looks at you then, realizing your eyes have been on him the whole time. He copies your position, turning to you so your bodies lay parallel, nowhere to look but each other's eyes.

"Do you regret that I'm the only boyfriend you've ever had?"

You immediately shake your head in denial of the question. "No, not at all," you were lucky, if anything. "You?"

"Well, I've had other girlfriends,"

"Ouch?"

"You knew that," he chuckles, and yeah, you did. "But I don't regret that you're the only one I've been serious about. I still am."

"I know. I am too."

"An ex-boyfriend doesn't lay in bed with you, you know."

"And an ex-girlfriend doesn't still remind your team when your doctor's appointments are,"

"Fair enough, guess we're just weird."

You share a matching grin. "So weird."

So once Alex uploaded the Call Her Daddy episode you were a guest on, and it was official to the masses that you had been single for now almost 4 months, the articles came in. The timelines of you and Lando's relationship, the rumors of him leaving clubs with random girls. You'd be lying if you said you didn't zoom in on some of their faces, relaxing when you recongized most of them as friends or even family members. He wasn't yours to be worried about, you suppose, but you also knew that any girl he decided to share his time with would be a lucky one.

Your friends had tried to get you on dates, that wasn't a lie when you said that on the podcast. But you weren't ever excited to get to know someone new, small talk was painful and you didn't feel comfortable going home with them.

But then, a few weeks later into February, you get a phone call from Lando. "Hi," You answer, pleasently surprised.

"Hey there," he says, sounding slightly out of breath. "How are you?"

"I'm good, great even. Finished up everything down here, leaving Marbella next week to head back home." Home was London to you, not Monaco. You constantly visited, had a family flat there and everything, but couldn't leave officially becuause of your career.

"Congratulations, everything looked stunning," he compliments, and your stomach flutters.

"But um, how are you? I'd ask if you were relaxing, but I'm sure training's well underway."

"Meh, more or less. I'm heading to Surrey next week, actually. Got some stuff to do at HQ."

"Oh," Surrey was only about an hour and a half from where you were in London. "Would you, well, not assuming anything, but if you'd have time to spare, it would be great to catch up?"

This isn't why Lando called you, you fully know this. Who knows what he picked up the phone for, he could be calling to let you know he's eloped with someone he's met in the 6 months you've been apart.

"I'd love to," you hear his grin in his voice. "You haven't moved, have you?"

Not only had you not moved, but you haven't changed much about your flat either. Same bedding, same color schemes, same photos decorating your tables and walls of your friends, family, and Lando. He never took the photos of you down either, and that photo from your 21st birthday was still stuffed in his wallet.

You order takeout, sitting across the kitchen island from each other acting like it didn't feel like your first date again. He acts like he doesn't want to reach out for your hands as you animatedly use them to share stories of Spain, and you act like you don't want to push the curls back that threathen to land over his eyebrows.

The food gets cold as you two catch up, a few glasses of wine becoming a whole bottle gone. You actually can't remember the last time the two of you had done this, and perhaps, absence had truly made your hearts grow fonder.

"Bahrain is on leap day," Lando says, making you gasp.

"That's got to be good luck, no?"

"It's just the first practice,"

"But still, you're starting your first weekend of the year on a special day like that," you muse, "so exciting. I'm excited for you,"

His chest warms at endearment in your voice. You truly and honestly rooted for him through everything, that was one of the things he was most grateful for about you. He knows you don't truly care about all of this, if he won or lost, but that you care about him and his development, how he sees himself and his profession. He fell in love with that about you.

"Would you come?"

You hesitate, daring to look at him from where you had begun to clean the countertop. "To the race? "

He nods, and turn back to the counter. "I don't know, Lan. Is that where we are?"

He hopes so. He's missed you something horrible, prays you missed him just as bad.

Lando takes the cloth from your hand, replacing it with his own. "I know it's only been about 6 months, and that's not enough time to say everything's well and dandy," you fight a smile. "But I want to work through things, with you. I've had nothing but time to consider what was off with us, and I want to be better. For you, more than anything. Yeah, I learned how to be just Lando. But I know I prefer being Lando and Y/n."

You bite your lip, finally meeting his eyes. "I want to take it slow."

"We can do that,"

"So, I don't know if I'm ready for the race. But, my birthday's coming up,"

"It is,"

"And we'll be in Dubai. My sister did it up, got this crazy plan going since it'll be my 25th."

"Quite the old woman you're becoming,"

"Oh get off that," you scoff, pushing his chest. He chuckles and pulls you back into him, where you go willingly. "But, if you can, I'd love for you to come to the dinner."

He raises an eyebrow with a smirk. "You want me to fly to Dubai just for your birthday dinner?"

"You'll be in Saudi Arabia then anyway,"

The smirk gets bigger. "You know my schedule already, love?"

"You're so fucking cheeky, can't stand it," you feign annoyance, but never move from his arms.

He holds you, as your arms delicately find themselves behind his neck, not daring to kiss just yet. To really be honest, you're not sure if you're ready to take that whole plunge.

"I'm happy to be back, even if things are slow. They can be molasses for all I care."

"Thank you for being patient with me," you lean your forehead against his. However, this time, neither of you are crying. Nice, for a change.

"I'd wait decades for you, my love."

After a beat of sweet silence. You speak up once more. "One thing though," he hums to prompt your continuance. "I'm pretty sure, when it's said, it's Y/n and Lando, just so you know."

#is this me projecting? yeah #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #lando norris imagine #lando norris x reader

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brf-rumortrackinganon · 4 months ago

Note

The BRF had too much to sort out after QEll's death, it was overwhelming and H&M were the last things on their minds. They might've evenhoped that the brats will at least soften a little but it got worse. I always thought that the BRF thought treating H with kids gloves might make him come to his senses and they gave him all the time he needed but that was a wrong plan.

They didn't want additional dramas because let's be real - the overseas outsiders will never listen. Remember how M said service is universal and the Queen doesn't own the word royal? People hated her so much when she did that! I feel like the BRF uses this tactic of letting the public see through H&M rather than them doing exposé because they want to always take the high road. Could be the reason why they never cleared any rumors about anything including the children because for them, the public is smart enough to see what's happening and come to their own conclusions while H&M treat the public like we're stupid.

Also I wouldn't be surprised if they start suing the BRF if they strip the titles or do anything more because even the Duke of Windsor wasn't stripped of his titles when he was a very clear threat and traitor to the UK. We might think this is dumb but they both have done many dumb things that doesn't make sense just to satisfy their big egos. The family just doesn't want to have anything to do with them and like you said, they're probably happy with the Sussex surname because PP's family name is saved from this ugly mess.

Also Charles the Weak had always had his darling boy's back that if anything comes out, it might put him in trouble as well like the bullying case. I truly believe stern actions will only come when William becomes King because people respect him more and have always had more faith in him to move forward with the correct thing instead of being an emotional snob. Unfair to him but Charles is useless like that.

I'm sorry for this long rant and my command of English, it's my 5th language so I don't have very good grasp of it 😅 Thank you for reading and looking forward for your response! ☺️

Ask from August 21st

A theory on the BRF's handling of the Sussexes.

I don't really have much to add here except that the reason why the Sussexes got away with it was because The Queen believed the decisions made, and the terms agreed to, at the Sandringham Summit were sufficient. She (or Charles or the courtiers) didn't think the agreement needed enforcing other than the part where they demanded the Sussexes decide by March 2021 if they were going to come back or stay.

Granted, COVID helped to passively enforce some of the Sandringham Summit terms, and probably by the time things adjusted to the new normal, the BRF had other, more important things to worry about (like Philip's and The Queen's health).

And once the Sussexes made their decision (aka the only part of the Sandringham Summit that The Queen was enforcing), that's when they started making their mistakes started. Their first big mistake was accusing the BRF of using Philip's health to squash their interview with Oprah. Their second big mistake was doing the Oprah interview. Their third big mistake was telling all those lies in the interview and forgetting that fact-checkers (and the internet) exists.

I think the BRF understood immediately that the Oprah interview was a mistake for Harry and Meghan when they saw all the people (American and British) supporting them and defending them, before and after they published "recollections may vary."

And thus, Napoleon Bonaparte: "Never interrupt an enemy when they're making a mistake."

Or a proverb, if history isn't your thing: "Give someone enough rope, and they will hang themselves."

#brf #sussexes #sandringham summit #pr shenanigans

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kokoch4n3l · 9 months ago

Text

DEAD GIRL'S BEACH࿐ྂ KUROKAWA IZANA x f!oc x SANO MANJIRO

ELEVEN — what was i made for?

"There's a chilling sense of control in Mr.Kurokawa's demeanour, as if he's always one step ahead, anticipating the reactions of those around him. It's as if he views the world as his own personal chessboard, with everyone else merely playing their roles." —MAYA'S ROUGH NOTES ON K.I

chapter summary: Izana gets carried away and Kakucho and Maya do damage control, bringing them right back to the start.

warnings: dark content 18+, character death, depiction of corpses, corruption, slight religious themes, suicide mention, suicide attempt, suicide ideation, self-loathing, slight hanagaki takemichi slander, scarring, bite marks, implied relapse, drug use/misuse, mentioned drug addiction, withdrawal symptoms for unnamed drug, possibly unrealistic/inaccurate withdrawal care, possessive!izana, betrayal, mentions of past torture methods(noncon drugging, waterboarding, noncon, noncon waxplay, first degree burns), emotional manipulation, mental health issues, MAJOR dubcon, unprotected sex, no prep, piv, making out, nipple play, hair pulling(m), multiple orgasms, tummy bulge, creampie, implied cockwarming, implied dissociation, aftercare, possessive!manjiro, noncon, mirror sex, coercion, forced orgasms, hair pulling(f)

word count: 13774

masterlist | previous | chapter 12

Naoto often thinks about Maya. When he starts thinking about her, he doesn't stop. He thinks about her death, goes through the evidence over and over and doesn't stop till Hinata tells him that it was enough. But just how was he to explain to his sister that things didn't add up with Maya's death when the only answer he'll get from Hinata is: "You're looking too deep into it... I know you liked her but you're feeling guilty... that's all"

His poor sweet sister. Hinata had no idea she was hanging out with people that are affiliated with the gang that caused her death in 5 other timelines. Naoto is frustrated and there is no one he can confide in. Alone with his thoughts, Naoto finds himself consumed by a sense of helplessness, a gnawing frustration at his inability to uncover the truth and protect those he cares about. Maya's memory haunts him, her death a stark reminder of the dangers lurking beneath the surface of their seemingly ordinary lives.

As Naoto meticulously pores over the evidence from the scene of Maya's supposed suicide, his keen eyes catch a crucial detail that sends a chill down his spine. In the photographs of Maya's charred remains, one glaring absence stands out—a distinct lack of the necklaces she always wore. Furrowing his brow, Naoto zooms in on the images, scrutinizing every pixel for any sign of the delicate chains that adorned Maya's neck without fail. But no matter how closely he looks, there's no trace of it, not even a glimmer in the ashes.

It's a discrepancy that can't be ignored. Maya cherished those necklaces— they were real gold. She wore it every day, never once removing it so why wouldn't it be here or in the evidence or among her stuff recovered from the apartment she booked? Maya fucking loved those necklaces so there was no way she wouldn't be wearing them.

The realization hits Naoto like a ton of bricks. This isn't just an oversight—it's a deliberate omission, a glaring inconsistency that casts doubt on the official narrative surrounding Maya's death. With a sinking feeling in his gut, Naoto realizes the implications of this omission. If Maya's necklace isn't among the evidence, then it's possible that her death wasn't a suicide at all—it could have been staged.

As he sifts through the photos once more, Naoto's mind races with possibilities. Was Maya's death orchestrated to look like a suicide? And if so, who would go to such lengths to cover up the truth? The pieces of the puzzle start to come together in Naoto's mind. Kurokawa Izana was discharged the same day the hospital director of Sunshine Grove reigned and disappeared off the face of the earth, the other employees resigning and disappearing as well and that day being the last Maya is seen. But who would benefit from Maya's death, and why?

Could Kurokawa Izana be connected to Maya's disappearance? And if so, what role did he play in her supposed death?

But as Naoto considers the pieces of the puzzle, a new, daring possibility takes root in his mind. What if Maya isn't actually dead? What if she's still out there, waiting to be found?

The idea ignites a spark of hope within Naoto, driving him to redouble his efforts in unravelling the truth behind Maya's disappearance. With determination burning in his heart, he sets out to follow this new lead, determined to uncover the fate of the woman who has captured his thoughts and haunted his dreams.

(At this point, no one could be trusted. Not even Matsuno Chifuyu and Hanemiya Kazutora. Anyone wit affiliations with the Tokyo Manji gang, whether present or past, was now a threat.)

Maya's mother was a surgeon and her father was a mechanical engineer. They weren't exactly religious either. Maya wonders if they were, would she be going through this? As Maya ponders her parents' professions and lack of religious affiliation, a wave of nostalgia washes over her. Memories of her childhood flood back, painting vivid scenes of her family's home and the moments they shared together. Her father, with his tinkering tools and inventive mind, would regale her with tales of his latest engineering projects, sparking her curiosity and igniting her imagination. Their home was a sanctuary—a place of warmth, love, and acceptance. Maya was free to explore her interests, pursue her dreams, and chart her own course in life. It was a far cry from the dark and twisted world she finds herself trapped in now. But as Maya reflects on her upbringing, a sense of longing creeps into her heart. She yearns for the safety and security of her parents' embrace, for the comfort of their words and the strength of their presence.

She feels worse as she realizes she no longer remembers what their faces looked like or how their voices sounded. It had been so long since her father's passing and her mother's suicide. She was 13 then and now she's 22. As Maya grapples with the weight of her memories, a profound sense of loss settles over her like a heavy blanket. The passage of time has blurred the lines between reality and remembrance, erasing the sharp edges of her parents' faces and the cadence of their voices from her mind. She closes her eyes, trying in vain to conjure up their images, to recall the sound of their laughter and the warmth of their embraces. But all she finds is an empty void— a void filled with echoes of the past, faint whispers of a time long gone. At this point, she might as well have been an orphan all her life.

But her parents loved her of course.

Her father loved her.

Her mother loved her.

But her mother didn't love her enough to stay alive after the passing of her husband.

Maya had never been enough for anyone— not even her own parents. Part of her hates Chifuyu. Just why did he have to be at the park the evening she was going to kill herself? Dying would have saved her from a whole bunch of pain. She wouldn't have lost her virginity to Chifuyu and been rejected, she wouldn't have been drugged, and she wouldn't have been kidnapped out of her fucking workplace, waterboarded, tortured, burned, and then betrayed by a false saviour.

No one in this stupid beach house had made anything easier for her. Not Izana, not Mikey, not even Kakucho.

Kakucho had seemed like a healer at first— reviving her after Izana drowned her, constantly patching her back together, helping her with the burns on her back. But at the end of the day, he was still a gangster, he was still Izana's closest aid, and he was still the dark knight. Not her knight in shining armour but Izana's dark knight with dented and bloody armour.

Kakucho is not a friend and might as well be someone involved in Izana's ploys of breaking down her spirit and betraying her. Maya could care less about who Kakucho thinks she's like. She isn't that guy. She's her own person. She refuses to let Kakucho's nostalgia for whatever childhood friend he lost shape her future or how and why she runs from Mikey and Izana. That other guy that ran just seemed like a damn coward. Running because he didn't like where Tokyo Manji Gang was headed, running even though he had so much influence over Sano "Mikey" Manjiro, running when there was no actual threat to his life.

Maya hates him.

She hates him, Kakucho, Izana and Mikey.

Fuck all of them.

Fuck that motherfucker, fuck Kakucho, fuck Izana, fuck Mikey, fuck Chifuyu, fuck Kazutora, fuck the Tokyo Fucking Manji Gang. She hates all of them and hopes they all go to hell. She hates them all for making them feel this way.

She always had so much love but nowhere to put it. It's as if she's been searching for something or someone to share her love with, but each time she reaches out, she's met with rejection or betrayal. Whenever there is someone to love, they suck it out of her greedily. Just keeping taking and taking and taking till there's nothing left to take. Maybe it's her own fault. She wore her heart out on her sleeve and just gave love to everyone that wanted it. Why did being kind and loving only give her pain in return? Why did everyone like to only take from her?

Why is it that she never learned her lesson after getting he heart torn out over and over.

"Maya..." Kakucho is at the door of the master bedroom

It's early in the morning, about 9:30 am, she feels like actual shit even after showering. The bite mark on her shoulder from Izana has healed but it will scar. "Yes?" She asks

Mikey was still out with Sanzu for some business thing. Apparently, he'd be returning either today or tomorrow. "Uh well..." Kakucho looks nervous and stressed

His hair is a mess and he's wearing his glasses. He wasn't even dressed yet. "So uh... Izana is having withdrawals..."

Maya's eye twitches in annoyance, her inner doctor coming back after so long. "and who's amazing idea was it to give drugs to a recently recovered addict?"

Kakucho just shifts uncomfortablely. "please can you just... can you come help me? You're a psychiatrist and you helped him before at the other hospital... You can do it now too"

Maya's muscles tense as Kakucho's words sink in, her frustration bubbling to the surface. Dealing with Izana's withdrawals is the last thing she wants to do, especially after the ordeal she's been through herself. But she knows she can't ignore Kakucho's plea, no matter how inconvenient it may be. Taking a deep breath to steady herself, Maya meets Kakucho's gaze with a resigned expression. "Fine," she concedes reluctantly. "I'll help."

As they make their way towards Izana's room, Maya can't shake the feeling of dread settling in her stomach. Dealing with Izana in this state is bound to be challenging, to say the least. But Maya knows she has to do whatever it takes to prevent the situation from worsening. Maybe she doesn't like him but as a doctor, she has an obligation. As she steps out of the master bedroom she realizes this was the first time she had been out of the room. The house was decorated similarly to Mikey's bedroom with huge windows displaying the beach outside and just an overall homey feel. She never thought a place like this would be her prison. Kakucho leads her to Izana's room and Maya hesitates. She could run now. She really could. There was no one else here but her poor weak heart would just feel too much guilt.

stupid stupid stupid stupid stupid stupid stupid stupid she keeps thinking as she enters Izana's room. The blinds and curtains were drawn and the lights were off. There is a lump under the covers and if she looked close enough Maya could see it trembling. She hadn't been present for the start of when Izana was admitted into Sunshine Grove. She didn't know what his withdrawal symptoms were or how he was doing through it. She was only there during the detox. This right here, was new territory. "what are his symptoms?" Maya asks quietly to Kakucho

"um... similar to yours but no hot flashes. Just cold and he's got really bad mood swings" Kakucho says looking really nervous "Headaches, he threw up earlier... Uh... He was hungry..."

Maya nods and reluctantly walks over to Izana and kneels on the bed next to the lump under the comforter he is under. She feels a knot form in her stomach as she realizes the weight of the situation she's stepping into. This isn't just about providing medical care; it's about navigating the delicate balance of emotions and power dynamics that exist between her and Izana. Gathering her resolve, Maya gently pulled back the covers to reveal Izana curled up beneath them. His breathing is shallow and uneven, his face drawn with discomfort. Despite her own reservations, Maya can't help but feel a pang of sympathy for him in this vulnerable state.

Oh god did she feel so stupid.

Taking a deep breath to steady herself, Maya reaches out to brush a lock of white hair away from Izana's forehead. His skin feels clammy to the touch, and she can sense the tension radiating from his body. "Hey," Maya murmurs softly, her voice barely above a whisper

Izana's response is a low, guttural groan as he shifts restlessly beneath the covers. Maya sighs inwardly, steeling herself for the challenges that lie ahead. This won't be easy. She flinches when he suddenly grabs her hand and presses it to his cheek. He shudders and mumbles something unintelligible under his breath. Maya watches as he curls into himself, his breath coming in ragged gasps. Had she been like Izana, she would have made him beg like he did to her. But she isn't like Izana so instead she asks "Does your head hurt?"

As Maya waits for a response, she can see the struggle playing out on Izana's face. His brows furrow in discomfort, his teeth chattering slightly as he curls tighter under the covers. She senses his agitation, the chill seeping into his bones and exacerbating his withdrawal symptoms. Finally, Izana manages a hoarse denial, his voice strained. "N-No," he stammers, his breath coming out in shaky puffs. "I'm f-feeling really f-fucking c-cold."

Maya's heart aches at his words, her empathy for him warring with the lingering resentment she harbours. Before Maya could say anything, Izana suddenly sat up and pulled off his hoodie, throwing it to the floor and leaving him in just a white undershirt. "Izana what are you—"

Before Kakucho can even finish his sentence, Izana is pulling Maya down onto the bed, laying on top of her. "H-Hey—" she tries to say

"Shut up" Izana mutters, his face buried into the crook of her neck "You're warm"

Maya's initial instinct is to push him away, to resist his sudden closeness, but she finds herself frozen in place as Izana's weight presses down on her. His warmth envelops her, a stark contrast to the coldness that had gripped him moments ago."Izana, this isn't—" Maya tries, but her protest is cut short by another one of Izana's hushed commands.

His words send a shiver down her spine, but she can't deny the underlying vulnerability in his tone. For a moment, Maya hesitates, unsure of how to respond to Izana's unexpected gesture. A big part of her wants to push him away, belittle and humiliate him the same way he did to her but... Maya was too weak. She couldn't get herself to do that to him and Maya hated herself for it. Instead, she avoids Kakucho's gaze and pulls the blanket further up Izana's shoulders, covering his bare arms and his exposed shoulders. "Do you... Need anything?" Kakucho asks slowly

"No..." Is all Maya says

Kakucho nods and leaves. A shudder goes through Izana as he clings to Maya tight. She goes stiff when his hands slide under her shirt and rest on her ribs. His skin is cold to the touch. Maya wants to belittle him. She wants to make him beg. She wants to humiliate him. But she can't get herself to and it's probably the worst feeling ever. She was never an eye for an eye person. She wasn't like that. Maya was too nice for her own good, even at her own expense. So instead of doing all the horrible things she wishes to do, Maya wraps her arms around Izana's shoulders, running the nails of one hand up and down the back of his neck. Izana sighs and just rests all his weight on her.

In the quiet of the room, Maya finds herself grappling with conflicting emotions. She's torn between the desire to protect herself and the innate compassion that compels her to offer comfort to Izana in his time of need. It's a battle she's fought countless times before, and yet, each time, it leaves her feeling conflicted and uncertain. But as she feels Izana's breath steady against her skin, his grip loosening ever so slightly as he starts to fall asleep on top of her, Maya finds herself relenting to the quiet intimacy of the moment. With a heavy heart, Maya resigns herself to the role of reluctant caretaker, knowing that she's bound by duty to tend to Izana's needs, even as she struggles to reconcile her conflicting emotions. And as they lie entwined in the darkness, Maya can't help but wonder how they ended up here, bound together by threads of fate and circumstance, their destinies intertwined in ways they never could have imagined.

She's just there, in his bed, crushed under all his body weight, pinned between him and the mattress with his cold hands under her shirt looking for warmth and face in the crook on her neck. She shifts slightly, trying to find a more comfortable position beneath him, but his grip remains firm, holding her in place against the mattress. The intimacy of the moment hangs heavy in the air, the warmth of their bodies mingling in the confined space of the bed. Maya can feel the steady rhythm of Izana's breath against her skin, the soft brush of his lips against the curve of her neck sending shivers down her spine.

Despite the tangled mess of emotions swirling within her, Maya finds herself instinctively running her fingers through Izana's hair, the strands soft against her touch. With each gentle stroke, she feels a strange sense of calm wash over her, a fleeting moment of peace amidst the chaos that surrounds them. Izana lets out a low, contented sigh at her touch, his grip on her softening ever so slightly. His breath tickles the sensitive skin of her neck as he nuzzles closer, seeking solace in her warmth. It isn't long till the shivering stops and he has fallen asleep, completely lax on top of her and crushing her with his weight. He's pressing down on her ribs and it's hard to breathe but Maya doesn't dare complain.

They come back a full circle.

Izana as the patient and Maya as the doctor.

This time, there was no pristine white doctor's coat, secure rooms with magnetic locks, CCTV cameras or security guards— only this time, she knew what was wrong with him.

There was just Maya and Izana and her all-too-soft heart.

"Why did you cut your hair?" Izana asks, lazily twirling a short curly strand of Maya's hair between his fingers

Hours later he was awake and was making no move to get off her. Maya hesitates for a moment, caught off guard by the unexpected question. She shifts slightly beneath Izana's weight, the pressure of his body against hers a constant reminder of their closeness. "I... I needed a change" she replies softly, her fingers still idly tracing patterns on the back of his neck.

Izana hums in response, his grip on her tightening ever so slightly. His other hand is still under her shirt, no longer cold thanks to her body heat. "Is it 'cause Matsuno broke your heart?" He asks casually "I heard girls cut their hair when they get their heart broken"

Maya's breath catches in her throat at the mention of Chifuyu. She hadn't expected Izana to bring him up, especially not in this vulnerable moment. How is it that Izana is still vying for control even while he's so vulnerable? She closes her eyes briefly, gathering her thoughts before responding. "Yes..." there was no point in lying to him when he already knew the truth— having forced it out of her weeks ago "I wanted to forget everything Chifuyu said about me so I cut my hair... Someone once told me hair holds memory so I cut it and then I felt better..."

Maya's admission hangs heavy in the air, the weight of her words settling between them like an unspoken truth. Izana's fingers pause in their gentle exploration of her hair, his gaze searching hers with a mixture of curiosity and something else she can't quite decipher. "I see," he murmurs, his tone neutral but his eyes betraying a hint of something deeper "But I have to admit, I liked your hair long much better. It suited you. I was pretty disappointed when I saw you cut it so short"

Maya's heart flutters nervously at Izana's unexpected confession, his words stirring up a whirlwind of conflicting emotions within her. She hadn't anticipated him expressing any sentiment about her appearance, let alone disappointment over her haircut she did herself weeks ago. It's a strange sensation, hearing him speak so candidly about something as trivial as her hair when there are far weightier matters hanging between them. "Sorry to disappoint," Maya murmurs, a faint hint of sarcasm lacing her words as she avoids meeting his gaze or just looking down at him in general while he's lying on her chest

She's acutely aware of the warmth of his body pressed against hers, the way his fingers linger in her hair, and it's all she can do to keep her composure in the face of such unexpected intimacy. Izana chuckles softly, the sound sending a shiver down Maya's spine. "No need to apologize," he replies, his tone light but tinged with something that feels uncomfortably like possessiveness "but don't cut it again, alright? I want you to grow it out long"

That wasn't a suggestion but a demand. Maya's heart sinks as she recalls the promise she made to Izana, the weight of it settling heavily on her shoulders. She had vowed to be his, to submit to his desires, and in that moment, it felt like there was no escaping the hold he had over her. With a resigned sigh, she nods slowly, her voice barely above a whisper as she agrees to grow her hair out. "Okay," she murmurs, her tone heavy with defeat as she concedes to Izana's demand. "I'll grow it out."

Izana's grip on her hair loosens slightly, a satisfied smirk playing on his lips as he leans back, his gaze lingering on her with a possessive gleam. "Good girl" he purrs, his words sending a shiver down Maya's spine

She wonders just how absolutely shameless this guy could be. Just hours before he was shivering and trembling, desperately curling into her arms for warmth and now he was being a little shit again as if none of it happened. Izana shifts himself more so he's fully on top of her again, crushing her ribs, knocking the breath out of her lungs, his thigh pressed between her legs. "You're so sweet to me, y'know that bunny" Izana murmurs, his face in Maya's neck again, lips brushing against her skin "Came here to take care of me... So sweet"

Maya's breath catches in her throat as Izana's weight presses down on her, his closeness suffocating yet strangely comforting. She can feel the heat radiating off his body, the tension in his muscles palpable against her skin. Despite the discomfort of his position, Maya finds herself unable to push him away, her resolve weakening under the weight of his words. "I... I just want to help," she stammers, her voice barely above a whisper as she struggles to maintain her composure.

The intimacy of the moment leaves her feeling exposed and vulnerable, her heart racing with a mixture of fear and uncertainty. Izana's lips brush against the sensitive skin of her neck, sending shivers down Maya's spine as she tries to suppress a gasp. His touch is both electrifying and terrifying, a potent reminder of the power he holds over her. "You're so good to me, bunny," he murmurs, his voice low and husky against her skin. "So sweet."

He goes still again after that. His lips just rest against the curve of her neck. They're both silent again and if it wasn't for Izana's fingers rubbing circles into her ribs, Maya would have thought he was asleep. Izana's hands ignite a firestorm inside her. Had this situation been any different, she would have craved it— craved him. But it's not an ideal situation, this danger. "Hey bunny..." Izana murmurs

"Yeah?"

"How did you feel when Matsuno broke your heart?"

It's an odd question, something she didn't expect him to ask her. "I was sad"

"Yeah fuckin' obviously. But what did you feel?" Izana moves himself, his hands on either side of her head as he's now hovering over her face

She's staring up at him. He isn't his usual golden-tanned colour due to the utter shit he was going through due to the withdrawal. His breath is hitting her lips. He isn't so close to her face but it feels like he is. "I felt like shit... I didn't wanna come to work that day but they wouldn't give me a day off" Maya says quietly

Izana brushes a curly strand away from her forehead. "hm... So you came late that day 'cause you got your heartbroken...?"

"Would you want to come to work if the person you liked for years broke your heart?" Maya counters back

Izana's gaze softens, his fingers tracing a gentle path along Maya's jawline as he considers her question. "No, I suppose not," he admits, a hint of vulnerability creeping into his voice. "But I don't have the luxury of letting my emotions dictate my actions. I have responsibilities."

Maya can sense the weight of Izana's words, the burden of his role as the number 3 of the Tokyo Manji Gang weighing heavily on his shoulders. She knows all too well the pressure he faces, the constant need to maintain control and uphold his image of strength and authority. Even being in a gang is hard work she supposes. "I understand," she replies softly, reaching her hands up, her fingers threading through the strands of his hair as she tries to offer him comfort.

Despite everything, she can't help but feel a twinge of sympathy for him, a glimpse of the vulnerability beneath his tough exterior. Izana leans into her touch, his eyes closing briefly as he savors the warmth of her embrace. "Thank you, bunny," he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper. "For being here."

Her eyes widen at his words, not at all having expected him to say that. He's saying that as if she choose to be in this damn beach house. No wait. Izana mean thanks for taking care of him. It's odd. Seeing him suddenly be so vulnerable. Just what did he want from her this time? What stupid trick was he playing on her? But she doesn't ask, and instead says "how are you feeling now?"

His skin isn't that cold anymore but he's still very clearly feeling like shit. "I've been better"

She isn't too sure what else to say, going stiff when his thigh presses against her crotch. "D-Do you want me to make you something to eat?"

Izana presses his forehead against her's and sighs quietly. He takes one of Maya's hands and laces their fingers together, pinning it down beside her head. He's acting sweet. Izana has been acting this way ever since he revealed that Mikey was lying to her— since the day Maya promised to be his. Maya's heart pounds in her chest as Izana's actions send a jolt of unease through her. She can't shake the feeling that there's something more to his sudden change in demeanor, something lurking beneath the surface that she can't quite grasp. She watches as Izana's eyes search hers, a hint of vulnerability shining in their depths. "Izana..." Maya begins, her voice barely above a whisper as she struggles to find the right words.

But before she can say anything else, he leans in closer, his lips hovering just inches from hers. "Stay with me," he murmurs, his breath warm against her skin as his forehead stays against hers. "Just for a little while longer."

With a silent sigh, Maya relents, allowing herself to be drawn into the web of Izana's embrace once more. He's being sweet, somewhat, he won't be like this for long. Maya can't help but wonder— if Izana had played the long game with her the same way Mikey did, would she have felt just as betrayed as she did when finding out what Mikey had done? Would Maya have felt her heart shatter the same way? She isn't able to look away from his orchid eyes as she brings her free hand up to his hair, tangling in the white strands. After a while Izana moved his head back away from her so he could look at her face properly then said "You're gorgeous. Have I ever told you that?"

That was unexpected. Her fingers stay tangled in his hair. "Well... You call me a lot of things"

"I feel a lot of things for you too" Izana admits

She's silent for a moment, her nails gently scratching against his scalp. "Is that why you won't let me go?"

"Yes... I'm greedy... I want you for myself"

"I know" Her voice comes out as a small, breathless whisper before she says "Would you like something to eat? You need something to be eating properly while recovering"

Izana takes the hand he's holding and kisses the back of it. Maya isn't too sure how to react. These were the things Mikey did to her, not Izana. Izana was calculated words, control, the need for dominance and control, he was fear and terror and uncertainty. Maya didn't know Izana could be like this and she isn't sure if she likes it better, especially after Mikey. Oh god, Mikey didn't even know that she knew yet. He hadn't been back home since Izana revealed the truth to her. "Yes... I'd like that" Izana says then moves off her

Izana is no longer crushing her ribs but it still feels like she can't breathe.

The sun is shining through the large windows of the beach house. Maya is cooking, stirring the pot of soup. Kakucho is sitting on the bar stool in front of the kitchen island with an unknown expression on his face. Izana on the other hand, is standing behind her, arms around her waist and his chin hooked over her shoulder. He's holding her like he's her lover and Maya really isn't sure how to feel. Maya can feel Izana's warmth enveloping her, his presence both comforting and suffocating at the same time. She tries to focus on the task at hand, stirring the soup with more force than necessary, trying to ignore the way his arms tighten around her waist. Kakucho's gaze flickers between Maya and Izana, a mixture of concern and uncertainty evident in his expression. He opens his mouth as if to speak, but then closes it again, seemingly unable to find the right words to say. As the silence stretches between them, Maya can't help but feel a sense of unease settling over her. This domestic scene feels foreign and surreal, a far cry from the chaos and violence that usually surrounds her. She wonders if this is just another one of Izana's games, another way to exert his control over her. "I fuckin' hate vegetables so this better be good" Izana mutters, his hands slipping under her shirt to rest on her bare lower stomach

She can feel the heat of his hands against her skin, his fingers tracing idle patterns on her stomach, sending a shiver down her spine. His skin is no longer cold but it might as well be with the way he's making her feel. "It will be... You can take my word for it" Maya replies quietly

Kakucho shifts uncomfortably in his seat, clearing his throat awkwardly. "Uh, maybe I should help with something else," he suggests, looking for an excuse to leave and not be a third-wheel

But before Kakucho can make a move, Izana tightens his grip on Maya's waist, his touch bordering on possessive. "No, you stay right there," he says, his tone laced with a hint of warning.

Maya's heart sinks at the possessive edge in Izana's voice. With a heavy sigh, Maya focuses on stirring the soup. "U-Uh Kakucho you can take out the bowls" she says, in hopes of making the situation a little lighter

Kakucho nods, grateful for the chance to escape the palpable tension in the kitchen. He quickly stands up, grabbing a few bowls from the cupboard and setting them out on the counter. "Sure thing," he says, his voice a bit strained as he busies himself with the task.

Meanwhile, Izana's grip on Maya tightens slightly, his fingers digging into her waist possessively. "You're mine, aren't you?" he murmurs, his breath warm against her ear.

Maya's heart skips a beat at his words, a mixture of fear and uncertainty swirling inside her. She doesn't know how to respond, torn between the promise she made to Izana and the lingering doubts in her mind. "I... I don't know," she admits quietly, her voice barely above a whisper.

Izana's hold softens slightly, his touch gentler as he leans back to look at her. "You said you are," he says, his gaze intense as he searches her eyes for any sign of resistance "You told me you'd be mine so are you still mine?"

Maya's heart pounds with conflicting emotions as Izana's grip tightens around her waist. She felt the weight of her promise pressing down on her, the words she uttered in a moment of weakness now binding her to him. Despite the uncertainty swirling in her mind, she knows that she can't go back on her word. "I... I am," Maya whispers, her voice barely audible above the sound of her own racing heartbeat

The admission feels like a betrayal to herself, but she knows that denying Izana now would only lead to more pain and turmoil. Izana's expression softens slightly, a hint of satisfaction flickering in his eyes as he leans in closer. "Good girl," he murmurs, his breath warm against her ear. "You belong to me, bunny. Don't ever forget that."

Maya just hums, not knowing what else to say. Izana presses a kiss to her ear and she resists the urge to shiver. "Uh... Sanzu texted. Said he and Mikey will be here tomorrow morning" Kakucho says

Maya's heart sinks at the mention of Mikey's impending return, a mixture of apprehension and uncertainty swirling inside her. She knows that his presence will only complicate things further, adding another layer of tension to the already fragile dynamic between her and Izana. "Great," Izana mutters, his tone laced with irritation, burying his face in Maya's hair "Just what we need..."

Maya's stomach churns at the thought of facing Mikey again, her mind flooded with memories of their complicated history together. She knows that their reunion will inevitably bring up painful emotions and unresolved issues, and she's not sure if she's ready to confront them. She doesn't know if she'll be able to pretend that she doesn't know he was lying to her. Oh god, Maya thinks she'll be sick.

Soup was soon ready and Maya finished eating first. She excuses herself and goes back to the master bedroom— Mikey's room. Alone in Mikey's room, Maya sinks onto the edge of the bed, her thoughts swirling with a tangled mess of emotions. The familiar surroundings offer little solace as she wrestles with the conflicting feelings that weigh heavily on her heart. She stares at the view of the beach in front of her and stands up. She stands in front of the double doors, staring at the beach past the deck. The waves crash against the shore. Unconsciously, her hand comes up to the doorknob. She knows it's probably locked but just as she's about to twist it, the door swings open, revealing Kakucho standing there, his expression unreadable. Without a word, he steps into the room, closing the door behind him. Standing beside Maya, he joins her in staring out at the beach, the rhythmic sound of the waves filling the room. "you okay?" Kakucho asks as Maya lets go of the doorknob

Maya nods stiffly. "Yeah... 'm fine"

A moment of silence washes over them but only for a moment. "Maya about what I said to you..." Kakucho starts "About running..."

She looks at him. "yeah?"

"Stay."

She furrows her brows in confusion. "W-What?"

Kakucho rubs the back of his neck, a look of guilt in his eyes. "Stay with Izana. Stop trying to run"

Maya's heart sank as Kakucho's words hit her like a heavy blow. The sense of betrayal wells up inside her, mingling with frustration and confusion. Just a few days ago he told her he believed in her that she could get away just like that guy that did years ago. So why did he change his mind? "Why?" she asks, her voice trembling with emotion.

Kakucho meets her gaze with a solemn expression, his eyes reflecting a mixture of regret and concern. "Izana wants you and... and you're good for him"

"But what about me?" she demands, her voice cracking with emotion. "What about what I want?"

This wasn't fair. This wasn't fucking fair. Why was this happening to her? It felt like she was being robbed of her agency, forced to sacrifice her own desires for the sake of someone else's happiness. It wasn't fair. None of this was fair. Kakucho's expression softens, his gaze filled with empathy as he reaches out a hand to gently touch Maya's shoulder. "I know it's hard, Maya. But sometimes, we have to make sacrifices for the greater good" he says softly, his voice tinged with sadness.

Maya pulls away from his touch, her fists clenched in frustration. "And what about my happiness? What about what I need?" she challenges, her voice trembling with emotion "There is no greater good in this situation, just a fucking sociopath that wants a pet and that pet happens to be me"

Kakucho's eyes widened, a conflict evident in his expression as Maya's words pierced through him. He took a deep breath, mustering the courage to speak. "Maya, I... I can't let you leave," he admitted, his voice wavering with uncertainty. "I care more for Izana than I do for my own morality."

Maya's heart sank at his confession, feeling the weight of his words bearing down on her. She struggled to comprehend how someone she trusted could prioritize the well-being of another over her own autonomy. "So, what? I'm just supposed to sacrifice my happiness for yours and Izana's?" she retorted, her voice tinged with bitterness.

Kakucho's gaze faltered, guilt flickering across his features. "I know it's not fair to ask this of you," he began, his tone heavy with remorse. "But Izana... he's not in a good place right now. He needs you, Maya. And I... I need to protect him, even if it means making difficult choices."

Maya's fists clenched at her sides, frustration boiling inside her. She felt trapped, suffocated by the weight of Kakucho's expectations. "That's not fair... That's not fucking fair" Maya says angrily "I got drugged and kidnapped right out of my workplace, drugged again, waterboarded and drowned—"

"Maya" Kakucho tries cutting her off but she just keeps going

"—drugged till I was addicted, went through withdrawals, taken against my will multiple times"

"Maya"

"got hot wax poured down my back, had first-degree burns on my back all while I was going through withdrawals," She says, her eyes teary now "Just why should I stay for him, when all he's done is hurt me?"

Kakucho's expression softened, his gaze filled with sorrow as he listened to Maya's anguished cries. He reached out a hand to gently touch her shoulder, offering what little comfort he could in the face of her pain. "I'm sorry, Maya," he murmured, his voice heavy with remorse. "I know it's not fair, but Izana... he's not well. He needs help, and you're the only one who can give it to him."

Maya shook her head, her heart heavy with the weight of her suffering. "But what about me?" she whispered, her voice barely above a sob. "What about my pain? Who's going to help me heal?"

There was a moment of agonizing silence as Kakucho struggled to find the words to comfort her. He knew there were no easy answers, no simple solutions to the pain she had endured. All he could do was offer his support and hope that Maya would find the strength to persevere. "I wish I had an answer, Maya," he admitted softly. "But all I can offer you is my support. I'll be here for you, no matter what."

"no, you won't Kakucho..." She whispers

He doesn't answer after that and only sighs. Maya watches Kakucho reach into his pocket and pull out a key. Maya watches in silence as he puts it into the keyhole and she hears it... lock? Her heart drops at the realization that the door has been unlocked this whole time. "W-What?" she whispers

Her freedom was right there. It was right there and now it was... gone. Her freedom was right there. It was within reach, tantalizingly close, and now it was slipping through her fingers, lost to the cruel whims of fate. The realization hit her like a wave crashing against the shore, overwhelming her with a sense of helplessness and despair. "It was unlocked this whole time?" she choked out, her voice trembling with emotion.

Kakucho's gaze remained fixed on the door, his expression unreadable. "I'm sorry, Maya," he murmured, his voice heavy with regret. "I can't let you leave. Not now."

Maya's heart pounded in her chest, panic clawing at the edges of her consciousness. She felt trapped, suffocated by the confines of the room, with no escape in sight. Tears welled up in her eyes as she struggled to contain the flood of emotions threatening to consume her. "Please," she pleaded, her voice barely audible. "Let me go."

But Kakucho remained silent, his gaze fixed on the locked door, his decision final as he left the room. And as Maya sank to the floor, her spirit broken and her hope extinguished, she knew that her fight for freedom had come to an agonizing end.

"what cha' thinkin' 'bout?" Izana asks

He's lying on top of her again, his weight pressing down on her ribs, not letting her breathe properly. Maya's heart skipped a beat as Izana's voice broke through her thoughts, pulling her back to the suffocating reality of the present moment. She swallowed hard, her throat feeling dry as she struggled to find the right words to respond. "Nothing," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper, her eyes fixed on the ceiling above.

But Izana wasn't one to accept evasive answers. He shifted slightly, his weight bearing down on her even more as he leaned in closer, his breath warm against her ear. "You're lying," he accused softly, his tone tinged with amusement.

Maya tensed beneath him, the weight of his body pressing down on her making it difficult to think. "I... I was just... thinking about everything," she admitted reluctantly, her voice barely audible. "About... about how we got here, I guess."

Izana hummed in response, his fingers idly tracing patterns on her stomach. "You're mine now, Maya," he murmured, his voice sending shivers down her spine. "And I'm not letting you go."

Maya's heart sank as she heard Izana's possessive declaration, his words a stark reminder of the chains that bound her to him. She closed her eyes, a heavy weight settling in the pit of her stomach as she whispered softly "I know."

A short silence washes over them, Izana's face resting in the crook of her neck again. He had a headache earlier which made him pretty fucking irritable but now it was gone. "Izana..." she says quietly

"hm?" his lips created a slight vibration against the curve of her neck

"What if I didn't come to work that day? What if I just stayed home that day and didn't show up to the hospital?" Maya asks him, her fingers tangled in his white hair

Izana's response is a low, contemplative hum as he shifts slightly, his breath warm against Maya's skin. "If you hadn't shown up that day..." he begins, his voice trailing off for a moment as he gathers his thoughts. "Well, things would've been different, wouldn't they?"

Maya's heart clenches at his vague response, a flood of uncertainty washing over her. She had expected him to offer some reassurance or clarity, but his words only served to deepen the sense of unease gnawing at her conscience. "Different how?" she presses, her voice tinged with apprehension.

Izana's grip on her tightens slightly, his fingers tracing idle patterns on her back as he considers his response. "I suppose we'll never know, bunny," he murmurs cryptically, his tone betraying a hint of amusement. "But even if you didn't show up, I would've brought you here anyway... Would've dragged you out of your little house."

Maya's breath catches in her throat at Izana's words, a chill creeping down her spine at the realization of just how little control she had over her own fate. She had always suspected that Izana's intentions toward her were far from benign, but hearing him admit it so casually sent a shiver of fear coursing through her veins.

"You would've... dragged me here?" she echoes, her voice barely above a whisper, her mind reeling with the implications of his words.

Izana's grip on her tightens even more, his touch bordering on possessive as he presses his lips against the sensitive skin of her neck. "Of course, bunny," he purrs, his breath hot against her skin "It wouldn't have been as fun as chasing you through the hospital but you would've been here with me"

Maya doesn't know why she expected a different answer from Izana when she already well knows how this crazy bitch thinks. After all, she's seen firsthand the lengths he's willing to go to get what he wants. But knowing doesn't make it any easier to accept the reality of her situation. "It was cruel of you to do that all that the same day I got my heart broken" Maya mumbles, trying to lighten the situation

Izana chuckles softly, the sound sending a shiver down Maya's spine. "Cruelty is my specialty, bunny," he replies, his voice dripping with amusement. "Besides, it's not like I planned for Matsuno to break your heart that day. It just happened to work out in my favour."

Maya forces a weak smile, trying to play along with Izana's twisted sense of humour. "Lucky me" she mutters under her breath, her attempt at levity falling flat in the oppressive atmosphere

A thought passes through her head and then she asks "What about Mikey?"

"Manjiro? What about him?" he replies, fingers tracing circles on her ribs again

"What will he think about all this?" Maya clarifies

Izana's fingers pause their motion, his expression turning slightly contemplative at Maya's question. "He's got his own world to worry about," he replies nonchalantly, his touch resuming its gentle circles on Maya's ribs. "Trust me, he won't mind."

Maya's brow furrows in concern, uncertainty gnawing at her. "why won't he mind?"

Mikey seemed like the possessive type— even more than Izana was. So just why wouldn't he mind? Izana chuckles softly, the sound carrying a hint of amusement as he meets Maya's gaze with an enigmatic smile. "Because, bunny, you're mine and Manjiro is mine too"

Maya's brow furrows further, confusion evident in her expression as she tries to decipher Izana's cryptic words. "What do you mean, we're both yours?" she asks, her voice tinged with uncertainty

But that's when it hit her. Izana saw her as a pet, a possession. Something to own. She was a toy for him to play with. Izana saw Mikey the exact same way. Mikey was a toy for Izana to play with, the same way Maya was a pet for him. As the pieces of the puzzle fall into place, Maya's heart sinks with the weight of understanding. Izana's twisted game becomes clearer, his manipulation extending beyond just her. She recalls faint memories, fragments of conversations heard through the haze of drugs and confusion. Izana's whispers poisoning Mikey's mind, turning him into a pawn in his cruel game. The realization hits her like a punch to the gut. Izana saw them both as objects to manipulate, to control, to possess. Mikey, his own brother, is reduced to nothing more than a pawn in his relentless pursuit of power and dominance. Anger simmers beneath the surface of Maya's composure, fueled by betrayal and indignation. How could Izana be so callous, so cold-blooded, to toy with the lives of those closest to him? And how could Mikey, blinded by loyalty or perhaps ignorance, allow himself to become ensnared in his brother's web of deceit? Mikey may have lied to her but what if she wasn't looking deeper into it? What if there was more to Mikey's lies that Izana hadn't told her about? But she holds back these thoughts, feeling even more sick as she keeps thinking and decides to change the subject. "Why did you take drugs again?" She asks looking at the back of his head "You recovered didn't you?"

Izana hums into the curve of her neck, seemingly accepting the topic change. "yeah... I dunno... I felt like I needed it and I got carried away without Kakucho noticing and then this happened"

Maya listens to Izana's response, a mixture of frustration and concern bubbling inside her. "But you were doing so well," she murmurs, her voice gentle, not wanting him to think she was in any way disappointed because she wasn't— Maya knows and has seen how hard it is recovering from addiction "Why would you risk everything by taking drugs again?"

Izana's grip on her tightens slightly, his breath warm against her skin as he shifts his weight. "I don't know, bunny," he admits quietly. "Sometimes, it's just hard to resist the temptation."

Maya's heart aches at his words, the complexity of Izana's struggles weighing heavily on her mind. Despite everything, she can't shake the feeling of empathy towards him, even as she grapples with her own conflicting emotions. "You know you can talk to me about these things... I'm still technically a psychiatrist..." she says softly, her fingers gently stroking his hair

Izana chuckles softly, a wry smile playing on his lips as he turns to face her. "You're a persistent one, aren't you?" he teases, his eyes meeting hers with a mixture of amusement and affection. "But I suppose that's part of why I keep you around."

Maya feels a little stupid for being this way with Izana after all he's done. Maybe it was because not once he had lied to her. Because he had been truthful the entire time. She feels stupid for unconsciously looking for affection in such a violent place and from such a violent person. Yet, there's a raw honesty to Izana that she can't ignore. He may be brutal and ruthless, but he's also authentic in a way that few others are. In a world filled with lies and deceit, his transparency is both refreshing and unsettling. But Maya knows she can't continue to delude herself. She's playing a dangerous game, dancing on the edge of a cliff with Izana as her partner. Maya is about to say something until she feels one of Izana's hands start to trail up higher on her ribs, the tips of his fingers grazing against the band of her bra. "lace?" He murmurs "lemme see"

Maya's breath catches in her throat as Izana's fingers linger on the edge of her bra, sending a shiver down her spine. The gentle touch of Izana's fingers against her skin ignited a firestorm of conflicting desires. "I-Izana" she mumbles nervously as he lifts himself off her, hovering over her body

Izana's lips curve into a knowing smile as he leans in closer, his breath warm against her skin. "Don't worry, bunny," he murmurs, his voice low and seductive. "Just wanna take a look"

But Maya can't shake the feeling of vulnerability that grips her, the sense of being caught in a web of desire and deceit. She knows that she should resist, that she should push him away and reclaim control over her own desires. But as Izana's lips brush against her neck, igniting a spark of desire deep within her, she finds herself unable to resist the pull of his magnetic presence. With a trembling sigh, Maya surrenders to the intoxicating allure of the moment, allowing herself to be consumed by the passion that burns between them. At that moment, she knows that she's playing with fire, dancing on the edge of oblivion with Izana as her partner. But for now, she chooses to embrace the flames, surrendering to the tumultuous whirlwind of desire that threatens to consume them both. "Arch your back" he mumbles

Maya's heart races as she complies, arching her back in response to Izana's whispered command. Every nerve in her body tingles with anticipation, her senses heightened by the intoxicating proximity of his touch. She can feel the heat of his breath against her skin, sending shivers of pleasure coursing through her veins. As she arches her back, Izana's hands slide gently along her sides, tracing the contours of her body with a feather-light touch. His fingers dance over her skin, leaving a trail of fire in their wake, as he explores the curves of her body with a tender reverence. Izana slides his hands under her back and with one movement lifts her off the bed like she was a child. She's now in his lap, straddling his thighs, chest pressed against his. Maya gasps as Izana effortlessly lifts her off the bed, her body instinctively wrapping around him. She looks into his eyes, searching for any hint of hesitation or doubt, but finds only a smouldering intensity that sends a thrill of anticipation coursing through her veins. "can I?" Izana whispers softly, a look of vulnerability in his eyes "Will you let me this time?"

With trembling hands, Maya reaches up to trace the contours of Izana's face, her touch gentle yet filled with fierce longing. She feels a surge of electricity shoots through her body at the contact, every nerve ending alight with sensation. Izana's hands roam freely over her body, igniting a firestorm of desire that threatens to consume them both. Their breath mingles in the air, hot and ragged, as they lose themselves in the dizzying ecstasy of the moment. "Is that a yes then?" He murmurs, a small smile playing on his lips

With a soft exhale, Maya nods slowly, her voice barely above a whisper. "Yes," she breathes, her fingers still tracing the contours of Izana's face, her touch a silent affirmation of her consent

Oh god did she hate herself for this. But maybe she was too tired. Too tired after fighting, too tired after realizing there was no one on her side. Izana's smile widens, a glimmer of satisfaction dancing in his eyes as he leans in closer, his lips hovering just inches from hers. "Good"

Maya's heart races as Izana's lips draw closer, anticipation mingling with trepidation in her chest. She feels a surge of conflicting emotions—desire warring with self-loathing, longing battling against resignation. Their lips meet in a searing kiss, sending a jolt of electricity coursing through Maya's veins. It's a whirlwind of sensation, overwhelming and all-consuming, as they lose themselves in each other's embrace. In that fleeting moment, there is no past, no future, only the raw intensity of their connection, binding them together in a fiery passion that defies reason and logic. "now lemme get a look" Izana says, pulling away from the kiss

Izana pulls her shirt off with ease, throwing it to the side, and falling onto the floor. He sighs softly, his thumb brushing over the baby pink lacy strap on her shoulder. Maya's cheeks flush with heat as Izana's gaze roams over her exposed skin, his eyes tracing every curve and contour with a hunger that sends shivers down her spine. She feels exposed under his intense scrutiny, vulnerable yet strangely exhilarated by the raw intensity of his desire. "Beautiful," Izana murmurs, his voice low and husky as he reaches out to caress her cheek with gentle fingers

She leans into his touch, her own fingers trailing lightly down his clothed chest, tracing the lines of his muscles with a reverence born of awe and longing. Izana's gaze shifts to her shoulder to the scar from where he had accidentally bitten her too hard. Maya feels a surge of mixed emotions flood her being as she watches him study the mark with a mixture of regret and a weird look of fascination. "I'm sorry," Izana murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper as he traces the scar with gentle fingertips

Maya isn't too sure if he actually means it though. But she doesn't feel like doubting it right now. Maya doesn't want to feel like shit anymore. She's tired of feeling that way. "It's fine" she mumbles, thumb tracing over his jaw "It'll fade"

Izana sighs, leaning down to press a kiss to her scarred shoulder. "I've hurt you so much, hm..." She knows he's not just referring to the physical scars but also the emotional wounds he's inflicted upon her. "I'll make it up to you, bunny... Promise"

And so Izana kissed her again, all tongue, licking desperately into her mouth like he was starved. Maya's mind swirls with conflicting emotions as Izana's lips meet hers once more, his kiss desperate and hungry, as if trying to erase the pain of the past with the intensity of the present. She can feel the raw desire coursing through him, his touch igniting a firestorm of longing within her. Izana is being oddly sweet for someone who waterboarded and burned her.

Oh well.

He unclips her bra with ease, throwing it in the same place he threw her shirt. She's soon lowered back onto the bed. He's kissing down her throat, ending at her sternum, sucking love bites into her skin while her fingers tangle into the thick white strands of his hair. Izana sighs against Maya's skin and she shivers then he shivers too. "Fuck... I'm cold again" he groans, his fingers digging into her waist

She forgot he was still going through withdrawals. Izana is going through another cold flush like earlier. She can feel the chill emanating from his skin, a stark contrast to the fire burning within her own veins. With a mixture of concern and tenderness, she reaches out to caress his cheek, her touch gentle yet filled with an unspoken promise of comfort. "It's okay, Izana," she murmurs soothingly, her voice a soft whisper against his ear. "I'm here. I'll keep you warm."

Izana's grip on her tightens, his fingers digging into her waist with a mixture of desperation and longing. "I need you, Maya," he confesses, his voice raw with emotion, using her name for the first time in a long time

At that moment, Maya knows that she can't deny him what he seeks, no matter how temporary or fleeting the relief may be or how much she hates him. With a silent nod, she pulls him closer, enveloping him in the warmth of her embrace, determined to offer him solace in the midst of his torment. So their clothes scatter and Izana pushes in, slowly, inch by inch, knocking the air out of her lungs. "f-fuck" a whimper leaves Izana and Maya lets out a shuddery breathe, squeezing her eyes shut

Her nails dig into his shoulders and her legs go around his waist, not sure if she wanted him closer or further. Maya is breathing heavily and shaky, her head up in clouds from the stretch caused by the lack of preparation from both herself and Izana. "god, you're so warm" Izana moans, his face pressed into the crook of her neck

He hasn't moved his hips yet, probably being nice for once and trying to let Maya adjust to him first. She wraps her arms around his neck and sighs, fingers tangling in his hair. "I can be on top" She offers, voice shaky

Izana's teeth graze against her throat. "as much as I'd love the view bunny, I wanna be on top... I'm trying to make it up to you remember" He hisses a little, mumbling how tight she was

Maya's heart flutters at the intimacy of their exchange, a mixture of desire and uncertainty coursing through her veins. She hesitates for a moment, torn between her own desires and Izana's request. But ultimately, she nods in silent agreement, trusting him to lead them in this dance of passion and a twisted kind of redemption. "Okay," she breathes, her voice barely above a whisper, her fingers tracing lazy patterns on his back. "I trust you, Izana."

Honestly speaking, no she didn't. Just because Izana was truthful to her didn't mean she had to be truthful to him. She could lie to him as much as she wanted. She had no reason to be honest. So as Izana start to thurst she whimpers out his name over and over. It felt good. So fucking good. The drag of his cock against her walls and each time his pelvis brushed against her clit. It felt so fucking good. "I-Izana" she whines as he thrusts in slow and lazy

His lips meet hers in a just as lazy but desperate kiss. Maya didn't know Izana had the capability to kiss like that— soft, full of passion, desperation and eagerness. Fuck it felt good. Being treated that way by someone who's only ever treated you violently felt so good. She whimpers into his mouth as his fingers find her nipples, lightly rubbing against them before pinching. Her legs tighten around his waist and her fingers tug at his white locks. Izana begins kissing down towards her jaw now, till her throat, collarbones, and sternum and then Maya feels him smile against her skin before he takes one of her nipples in his mouth. A shuddery breath leaves her lips at the feeling. He sucks at it, soft, but his teeth graze against it almost threateningly. Maya feels like she's having an out-of-body experience when he tugs at her other nipple and his free hand goes down to rub at her clit. There's so much going on at once that she already feels so overstimulated and comes from the sheer feeling of all of it. Izana chuckles as she comes down from her high. He stops thrusting momentarily as he presses his forehead against hers. "so sensitive, hm bunny..." Izana sighs softly "Wish I took your first..."

He doesn't give her a chance to respond as he starts thrusting again, this time rougher, harder. Her eyes roll back as he pulls his head away from her. "oh fuck..." Izana mutters as he slows down but keeps going just as hard "Look at that"

Izana is looking down at her stomach, right at the small bulge on her lower tummy every time he thrusts into her cunt. He fucking giggles, like it's something cute, like he's not practically fucking her guts. Oh god, she should be horrified but it just turns her on even more. A sob-like moan leaves her when Izana speeds up and presses down on her lower stomach. She feels good. Everything feels good and even if it's only momentary, Maya wants it so badly to last. No matter how overwhelming, no matter how sensitive. Because it seems that only during sex is when the pain truly stops. "please" Maya whimpers desperately, pulling him in as close as possible when he pounds into her cunt

"Please what, hm?" He asks, the tips of his fingers pressing bruises into her waist "wh-what-f-fuck... what do you want bunny?"

Izana's voice is shaky as he speeds up even more, feeling himself getting closer. "a-ah~ want more" Her moan sounded more like a sob

Izana smiles, his eyes dark with lust as he leans down, capturing her lips in a rough messy kiss. It's all teeth and tongue and eventually, they're both just breathing heavily into the other's mouths as they come at the same time. Izana doesn't pull out after that though. He simply shifts their positions so they're both lying on their side and keeps his cock buried in her using the excuse that he was still cold. That was probably his first lie but Maya was too tired to say or do anything so she just complies. She's tucked away in his arms. Izana is holding her tight and close like he's afraid she'll slip away at any moment. Maya on the other hand can't focus on anything other than the feeling of him still inside. "One thing I adore about girls like you is how prettily you suffer." Izana whispers as his fingers trace along her spine "How could anyone want to comfort you when you look this fuckin' pretty when you're miserable?"

Mayas closes her eyes and just falls slack in his arms. It's dark out now. "You're gorgeous, you know that my pretty bunny? Everything about you is breathtakingly beautiful" He whispers and she opens her eyes to look at him

Maya doesn't say anything to Izana. Everything just felt too good for her to really even try to speak or move. "You're so pretty... The way you suffer is so pretty too so I just can't help but hurt you..." Izana murmurs and presses a kiss to her cheekbone

After a while, he pulls out with a small hiss, leading her silently to the shower. As the water cascades over them, washing away the physical remnants of their encounter, Maya's mind drifts into a haze of numbness. The weight of their tangled emotions hangs heavy in the air, suffocating her as she struggles to make sense of it all. Izana's words echo hollowly in her ears, his attempts at reconciliation falling on deaf ears as she retreats into the depths of her own thoughts. In the midst of the steam and the warmth of the water, Maya feels a profound sense of emptiness, a hollow ache that gnaws at the edges of her soul. She can't shake the feeling of being adrift, lost in a sea of uncertainty and despair. Each drop of water that falls against her skin feels like a reminder of the tears she's shed, the pain she's endured, and the scars that mar her body and soul alike.

As they step out of the shower, Izana gives her a pill, his voice a distant echo in the recesses of her mind. Maya accepts it mechanically, her movements robotic as she goes through the motions of getting cleaned up. She doesn't bother listening to Izana's words anymore, the pretty lies and empty promises ringing hollow in her ears. Wrapped in a towel, Maya allows herself to be led back to the bedroom, the weight of the world pressing down on her shoulders. She lets Izana hold her naked body against his chest, but the embrace offers little comfort, a fleeting illusion of solace in a world devoid of warmth and light.

As he kisses her forehead and murmurs empty reassurances into her ears, Maya can't help but feel a sense of profound sadness wash over her. This moment of tenderness feels like a cruel mockery of the pain and suffering that has brought them to this point. She knows that no amount of physical closeness can erase the scars that mar their relationship, nor can it mend the broken pieces of her shattered heart.

One can only dream, she figures.

Mikey is back the next morning. She ignores him as best as she can. Maya didn't want to even look at him after knowing he had been lying to her this whole time— giving her false hope that he'd convince Izana to let her go when Mikey might as well be an accomplice. The air in the beach house feels heavy with tension as Mikey's presence looms over Maya like a dark cloud. But despite her efforts to ignore him, Mikey's presence is an ever-present reminder of the lies and deceit that have plagued their relationship or whatever twisted relationship they had in the first place.

She doesn't know how to face Mikey, how to confront the betrayal that cuts to the core of her being. All she can do is bury her pain deep within her heart, shielding herself from the raw vulnerability of her shattered trust. But even as she tries to push him away, a part of Maya longs for answers, for closure to the questions that have haunted her since the truth came to light. She knows that confronting Mikey won't undo the damage that has been done, but she can't help but yearn for some semblance of understanding in the midst of the chaos that surrounds her. "Thanks again, Maya" Kakucho says with a smile "Really."

Izana had fallen back to sleep after breakfast, still needing a lot of rest. Thankfully this time the detox process shouldn't take too long since he wasn't in that damn shitty hospital with shitty care. "It's nothing" Maya mumbles dismissively

She was still mad at Kakucho. Almost as much as she was mad at Mikey. Maya had the right to be mad after all. She resents his gratitude, feeling as though it's a hollow gesture in the wake of his betrayal. But beneath her anger lies a deep well of hurt and confusion, emotions that threaten to consume her if she lets them. The lies, the deceit, the manipulation—all of it weighs heavily on her heart, dragging her down into a pit of despair. She can't shake the feeling of betrayal that gnaws at her from within, leaving her feeling lost and alone in a sea of uncertainty. "really though... thanks for helping him" Mikey says with a soft smile

Maya resists the urge to sneer at him the same way she would at Izana when she was first brought here. Mikey had been lying to her, giving her false hope. That was probably worse than Kakucho going back on his word. "Sure" Maya replies tersely, her voice lacking the warmth that once coloured their conversations

She can't bring herself to meet Mikey's gaze, her eyes fixed on some distant point in the room as she struggles to contain the storm of emotions raging inside her. Mikey's smile falters slightly, a flicker of concern crossing his features. "Hey, is everything okay?" he asks, his voice laced with genuine worry.

Maya's jaw clenches as she fights to keep her composure, the urge to lash out at Mikey almost overwhelming. But she knows that giving in to her anger won't solve anything, and won't change the past. So she forces herself to take a deep breath, to push aside her hurt and frustration, if only for a moment. "Yeah, everything's fine" Maya replies, her tone flat and devoid of emotion

She retreats to the master bedroom. Bad idea honestly speaking. It wasn't her own room, it was Mikey's. Stupid idea for her to try and hide from him in there because he just followed her inside. "no... everything's not fine. What's wrong?" Mikey asks with a frown, his black hair tied back in a messy ponytail

Maya's heart skips a beat as Mikey enters the room, his concerned voice cutting through the heavy silence that hangs between them like a suffocating fog. She can feel the weight of his gaze on her, a silent plea for her to open up and share her burden. But Maya remains silent, her emotions roiling beneath the surface as she struggles to find the words to articulate the storm raging inside her. "It's nothing, Mikey," Maya finally murmurs, her voice barely above a whisper. "I just... I need some time alone."

Mikey's frown deepens, his brows furrowing in concern. "You can talk to me, Maya," he insists, taking a step closer to her. "Whatever it is, we can work through it together. I told you I'm here for you"

Maya shakes her head, heading for the bathroom to get inside and lock the door so she can get some alone time but Mikey gets inside before she can even get the door closed. "don't avoid me" He speaks more demandingly this time "You haven't even been looking at me since I got back! Didn't you miss me, baby?"

The petname which used to make her heart flutter is now making her stomach churn. "Mikey, I really don't wanna do this right now" Maya says, digging her nails into her palms, feeling a mixture of panic and anger fill her

"Maya, please," Mikey pleads, his voice tinged with desperation as he reaches out to gently grasp her arm. "I just want to understand what's going on. You've been avoiding me ever since I got back, and I can't shake this feeling that something's not right."

Maya's heart pounds in her chest as she feels the weight of Mikey's gaze on her, his eyes searching hers for answers she's not ready to give. "I really don't want to talk to you right now"

But Mikey's grip tightens on her arm, his expression filled with determination as he refuses to let her pull away. "No, Maya," he says firmly, his voice tinged with frustration. "We need to talk about this. Whatever it is, we'll face it together."

With a heavy sigh, she meets Mikey's gaze with a sense of resignation, steeling herself for the difficult conversation that lies ahead. "Okay," Maya whispers, her voice barely above a whisper as she takes a deep breath, preparing herself for the storm that is about to come. "Let's talk."

Mikey nods and gestures for her to continue. "You're lying to me" she says

He furrows his brows. "what?"

"you were lying to me" Maya repeats trying to sound more angry than sad "You told you asked Izana to let me go when you really didn't. You want to keep me here too"

Mikey's expression shifts from confusion to determination, his features contorted with earnestness at Maya's accusation. "Maya, you've got it all wrong," he protests, his voice tinged with a hint of desperation. "I know it may seem that way, but I was only trying to keep you safe. I asked Izana to let you go, but he's unpredictable. I was worried about what might happen to you if you left."

Maya meets his gaze with a mixture of skepticism and sorrow, wrestling with the conflicting emotions swirling inside her. "Keeping me safe?" she echoes, her voice heavy with disbelief. "By keeping me prisoner with you and your sociopath brother? How is that supposed to make me feel safe?"

Mikey steps closer, his eyes pleading for understanding. "I know it's hard to see it now, Maya, but believe me, I was only trying to protect you," he insists, his voice tinged with genuine concern. "I didn't want you to get hurt. I thought I was doing what was best for you."

Tears well up in Maya's eyes as she grapples with the painful realization of Mikey's deception. She had put her faith in him, believing that he had her best interests at heart. But now, as she stands before him, the truth laid bare, she can't help but feel a profound sense of betrayal. Mikey takes her face in his hands as she's standing with her back against the counter. "Baby, it's not just all that, hm... I wanted you and there was no other way to make you stay" he completely shifts his point now "It's so dangerous out there for you and I wanted you anyway so making you stay was the best option"

Tears start to run down her cheeks. "You watched what I went through... This isn't fair" Maya whimpers sadly

Mikey's expression softens, his features contorted with a feigned sympathy as he steps closer to Maya, reaching out to gently wipe away her tears. "I know, baby, I know," he murmurs, his voice dripping with false sincerity. "But you have to understand, I did it because I care about you. I couldn't bear to see you in danger out there, not when I knew I could keep you safe here with me."

Maya's heart aches at his words, torn between the desire to believe him and the nagging doubts that linger in the back of her mind. "But you didn't have the right to make that decision for me," she whispers, her voice tinged with a mixture of sadness and anger. "You took away my freedom, Mikey. How can you expect me to forgive you for that?"

Mikey's gaze hardens, a flicker of frustration crossing his features as he takes a step closer, his hand tightening around Maya's arm. "Because I did it out of love, Maya," he insists, his voice tinged with possessiveness. "I did it because I love you and I can't bear the thought of losing you. Can't you see that?"

She sniffles, trembling a little now after his sudden love confession. "Why couldn't you have just told me the truth?"

"Would you have stayed if I did?" Mikey asks lowly

Maya's breath catches in her throat, her heart pounding with the weight of Mikey's question. His words hang heavy in the air, suffocating her with their implication. "I don't know," she whispers, her voice quivering with uncertainty. "But I deserved to know the truth."

Mikey's expression hardens, a glint of possessiveness flashing in his eyes as he takes a step closer to Maya, his hand reaching out to grasp her arm firmly. "You would have run, Maya," he says, his voice low and commanding. "And I couldn't let you go. You're mine."

Maya recoils at his touch, her eyes widening with a mixture of fear and disbelief. "Mikey, please..." she pleads, her voice trembling with emotion. "This isn't right. You can't keep me here against my will."

But Mikey's grip tightens, his fingers digging into her skin with a painful intensity. "I'm doing this for your own good, Maya," he insists, his tone tinged with desperation. "You're safer here with me. You belong with me."

Tears well up in Maya's eyes as she struggles against Mikey's hold, feeling trapped and powerless. "Let me go, Mikey," she begs, her voice choked with emotion. "Please, just let me go."

But Mikey's expression hardens further, his resolve unyielding as he stares down at Maya with a possessive gleam in his eyes. "You're not going anywhere," he declares, his voice dripping with determination. "You're mine, Maya. And you're staying right here where you belong."

It was weird. Just weeks ago she had the same conversation with Izana and now she was having it with Mikey. Just like then, she's weak. Weak as Mikey turns her around to face the mirror in front of the bathroom sink, weak as takes her right there in front of it. "so fuckin' pretty" He moans as he watches her through the mirror "Takin' me so we-well, baby"

There's a thin coat of sweat on her forehead and her hair is sticking to her skin. Mikey keeps running a hand up and down her spine, seemingly enjoying the way it arches as he thrusts into her. He's being rough, moaning, mumbling praises. All Maya can do is take it, grasping desperately at the counter, her moans breathless and whimpers pitiful. Once again she hates how good it felt. One of the things that wasn't fair was how good Mikey knew how to make her feel. She almost regrets letting him take the time to get to know her body, to let him know all those other nights what she liked and what she didn't because now it was her downfall. "You're mine, hm?" He grunts "Yeah baby?"

She's gasping, trembling as he's forcing a second orgasm out of her while rubbing on her clit. "I-I... 'm yours"

It's too much. Way too much as he just keeps going. "say it. say my name"

"Mikey"

"again"

"M-Mikey"

He forces the third out of her. Mikey grabs Maya by her hair and pulls her till her back is pressed to his chest while he fucks her. "look at you" He murmurs shakily into her ear "so fuckin' pretty..."

Had this situation been any other, she would have agreed. God, she looked so damn hot being fucked by him like this. Mikey is holding her so tight against him. Her eyes are glazed over and her hair sticking to her skin. She's trembling, biting at her already red, bruised lips, her fucked out expression looking so damn pretty. "Who do you belong to?"

"Mikey..." She gasps breathlessly

He finishes inside her finally. Her head is a mess when Mikey turns her back around to face him. He's hugging her tight, right up against his chest as if to try and keep her together. Maya can feel his cum dripping down her inner thighs. The feeling is odd. She shivers and just lets him remove all her clothes so they can shower together. She feels boneless and exhausted. He's whispering apologies into her ear for being too rough, asking her where the scar on her shoulder had come from then tells her he'd tell Izana to be more gentle with her. Maya answers each, quietly and shaky. She's so tired and it's only 12 pm. "I love you... okay?" Mikey murmurs as they stand beneath the shower

"I love you too" she murmurs, her voice barely audible over the sound of the running water

There isn't much she can really do about it now. All the roads to freedom have been blocked off and there was no longer a way out. Maya is exhausted and now she just wants to stop fighting.

But the question remains:

Just when will Mikey and Izana be done taking from her?

notes: oh my god we have 2 more chapters left for the main story. The next chapter explores Maya's forgotten memories and a means to an end. lol good luck everyone, all of us will need it.

Idk if the smut with either Izana or Mikey is even good but yeah, that's there.

link to character analysis and headcanons

likes, asks and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

special thanks to: @highpri3stess @mysouleaten @yaya4thawin @piroporopo @reiners-milkbiddies @bontensbabygirl @tenjikusstuff4 @fairey555 @haikyuusboringassmanager @firstdivisiongirl

#tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers fandom #tokyo revengers manila future timeline #izana kurokawa #tokyo revengers izana #tokyo rev #tokyo revengers smut #tw. dark content #tw. dark themes #mikey sano #sano mikey manjiro #manjiro sano #mikey smut #izana smut #DEAD GIRL’S BEACH

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schildpadkneus · 8 months ago

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Since there is a lot of misinformation when it comes to the "incident" that got Joost Klein disqualified I figured I'd put a post out with information from actual news outlets and not speculations from social media users.

If you are too lazy to read everything, here's a summary of everything I've been able to find:

After his performance in the semi finale, Joost was filmed despite agreements he wouldn't be.

The camera woman did not listen when he asked her to stop several times.

Joost got angry and made the camera woman in question feel so threatened the police was called on Joost.

Despite what fans think, it was confirmed by Dutch commentator Cornald Maas that the Israeli act and their delegation were not involved. I understand the frustration with their participation and I ranted about their disgusting behaviour at Eurovision here, but they were not involved with this incident.

He did not hit or even touch the woman involved.

Nor did she make any remarks about his parents.

STOP SPREADING MISINFORMATION.

Continue to read for more details.

Edited only for later addition (as indicated) and slightly changed the wording because I was rambling in the initial post.

According to Avrotros (the Dutch broadcaster of Eurovision), Joost had made a threatening motion towards the woman.

According to the Swedish Aftonbladet, multiple witnesses say he behaved very aggressively and damaged/broke(?) the camera.

The rest of this will be speculating. Hopefully as unbiased as possible.

Based on other interviews and discussions about the incident in Dutch media, it sounds like Joost was probably just very overwhelmed. It is reasonable to think the artists are under a lot of pressure to perform well, and it's fair to conclude the controversy of Israel's participation has only added to artists' frustration and the pressure. Add the whole aspect of this being Joost's childhood dream and the passing of his parents and the fact he had already complained about the many many rules of eurovision and you get this explosion of emotions and frustrations. Apparently he also gets very emotional during the outro, and I imagine such a performance does come with loads of adrenaline.

Considering that nice little cocktail of stress, frustrations, emotions and adrenaline, it is likely he just snapped. He was already on the edge, and then the employee filmed him when he didn't want to be filmed and didn't back off when he asked her to, so he did something stupid and irrational.

That is a human response, I don't think he's a bad person for that, I just think he did something stupid in the heat of the moment. If it was something really bad he would've been arrested and locked up, so I'm willing to give him the benefit of the doubt. That does not mean he should go unpunished, however.

Whatever he did, he made this photographer/camera woman (sources alternate between which one it was) feel so threatened the police got involved. I trust this judgement.

Don't get me wrong, I do think she should have stopped filming when she was asked, but we don't know the full story here. She could have misunderstood the situation, maybe she was unaware of the agreement she should not have been filming him, maybe it was just a stupid mistake.

Regardless of what truly happened, I hope we can all agree both were in the wrong but both have also been punished enough now.

The employee in question should not have been filming in the first place and stopped when asked.

Joost should not have done whatever it was he did.

For the love of god, please stop meddling in situations we know virtually nothing about and definitely stop taking sides. It is never ok to wish horrible things upon anyone.

We don't know what happened and chances are we will never fully know. We don't even know any of these people, we don't know what they are like, we only have little bits and pieces.

I also really want to know but it's not that difficult to just shut up and not say anything in favour of or against anyone until we have more details. You can condemn people for their actions but not when we don't even know what those actions were.

They both should have been punished and they both were.

A bunch of you should have been punished for the vile things I've seen you spout about Joost or this poor woman.

Basic fucking decency and common sense is not that difficult.

Later addition: (I've calmed down a bit)

I posted this about an hour ago but I want to add I do support Joost and feel bad for him but if it is true he punched and broke a camera it disqualification was not an unreasonable punishment. The awful rumours were just an unnecessary kick in the stomach.

If it turns out he did not damage the camera I will happily eat my words.

It is a pity he did not perform in the grand finale considering the huge potential it had but we can't excuse that behaviour. I hope he learns from this situation enough to prevent himself from getting in more trouble.

This does not mean I support the ebu btw <3 fuck the ebu

#eurovision #joost klein #esc 2024 #justice for joost

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carmyberzattosjournal · 2 months ago

Text

Therapy Files 2: Splinters in the Water (Therapist)

Summary: Carmen Berzatto is the most interesting patient this psychologist has met in the city. (669 Words)

Warnings: I am not a psychologist; this is not medical advice. Swearing, mention of suicide, mention of alcoholism, mention of mental and emotional abuse, religious references. Feat. Darling (aka fem reader, though the reader could also be the psychologist).

Notes: Thank you for reading and sharing! This is a work in the Therapy Files Series and will be tagged with #cb therapy files.

Sideblog for commentary and social stuff: @m-z-shoroi

Day 1

It’s too late to be doing this right now, but here we go.

I’ve had a few cases that have stuck out so far—Chicago needs about ten million more therapists yesterday, this city is drowning under crippling mental illness—but Mr. Berzatto might be the most interesting.

He’s a disaster. A wreck of biblical proportions. He’s the broken slats of Noah’s Ark on Mount Ararat. Splinters in the water as it recedes. It’s like he’s held together by duct tape, super glue, and two prayers, this poor young man. Needs about a thousand more. I might add him to the list of patients to pray for, and I only just met him.

He looked like he was going to pass out when I called his name in the waiting room. He had a woman with him; she was holding his hand and rubbing his back. She seems sweet. He looked to her for reassurance, not unlike a small child. I feel like I recognize her, but that’s a problem for later. He was hunched up in his patchwork jacket, almost like he was trying to take up the least amount of space he could, and it wasn’t until he handed me the clipboard of his intake paperwork that I noticed his tattoos. He’s got some novels on his skin. Could be safe topics to unpack if needed. Lipstick print on the left hand, matched the shade his partner was wearing. He kept looking at it every time he locked up during the appointment. Also something safe to ask about.

PHQ-9 is 21. GAD-7 is 18. Suicide risk low; girlfriend is a protective factor. Referral to psychiatry sent.

Full clinical assessment in clinical notes; I keep getting off track with these entries.

Obvious severe anxiety, sure, but he’s softspoken, almost like he’s choking on his words as they come out. I’ll admit, he looked like he would be a difficult one. I know the type, I’ve had several. Significant other or parents or best friends force them to come to therapy hoping it’ll fix the damaged relationship they have, but because they don’t want to be there, the exercise becomes a fruitless endeavor. He’s not one of those. He admitted he needs help, but he’s not sure where to start. Admitted that the idea of therapy was unappealing to him, but that something had to change, and this would be a change. It’s unique. He’s highly logical and goal-oriented but also lacks organization and emotional development. Wavers between extremely attentive and absent. Alcoholic mother, absent father, addict brother who was a suicide victim, high-stress job, mental and emotional abuse. But warm. Vulnerable in his nature. A child forced to be an adult too soon, but more comfortable in that adulthood, even if he lacks the legs for it. Odd.

This kid’s got a lot of skeletons in his closet.

He has the bluest eyes I have ever seen in my life. I don't know if they're real or contacts. I'm tempted to say real because, with the state he is in, I doubt he'd want to put in bright blue contacts, but I'll have to gather more information—could be part of the masking. His hair is a mess, too. It's somehow dry and greasy at the same time, curly, wavy, kinky, some random ramen noodle shapes by his temples because he drags his fingers through it repeatedly. Seems to be a nervous tic. Couldn't hold still. He was uninterested in any of the fidgets I had available.

Prominent stammer. Wouldn't hold eye contact when speaking but held it when listening. Self-soothing face touching. Jerky movements. Mask-like flat expression. Looked tired. Looked like his soul was tired, the kind of tired I’d expect in a middle-aged mother of 4 teenage children, not someone in their mid-20s. Heightened sensitivity to sound and light. Anxious about sitting with his back to the door. It took him too long to answer basic questions—overthinking? Anxiety? Guarded? Why not all 3?

Likely all 3.

Trauma referral sent.

Appointments once a week scheduled for the next 3 months.

So, why the fuck can’t I sleep?

#cb therapy files #carmen berzatto #carmen berzatto fanfiction #carmy berzatto #the bear fanfiction #carmy berzatto fanfiction #carmy x reader

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eternal-love-song · 25 days ago

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Traveling Masks AU - Enter Siffrin

Read Odile's introduction here.

The first days of Odile's journey go less smoothly than she might have hoped, but the addition of a mysterious traveler might just be a sign of good things to come.

[Odile POV, Odile centric, Housemaiden Odile, Character study, Introspection, Role Swap, Change Siffrin]

Traveling was not exactly new for Odile. She had been moving from one corner of Vaugarde to another for years now. She knew how to busy her mind on a long trip, what things to pay attention to and what she could safely ignore, how to recognize when the weather seemed likely to turn and how many provisions she would need for how many days of travel. Most of that travel had been via caravan, though, or on horseback. It had been in the company of her father, other housemaidens, or hitching a ride with a traveling merchant.

So while the act of traveling itself was not new to her, traveling like this very much was. Alone, on foot, without any clear direction or idea of what she should do next. She was also sorely under supplied. She had barely more than the clothes on her back and the coins in her pocket when she'd fled, none of which was ideal for a long, country saving journey.

The first night after leaving Dormont, which had served as her home for the last two years, had been reserved for screaming at the top of her lungs, cursing the gods, and bloodying her knuckles against the nearest punchable surface. It was annoying and unfair, having all of this thrust onto her shoulders. It was burdensome, it was irksome, it shouldn't be her problem. She didn't even like Dormont that much! She didn't feel any loyalty to the people of Vaugarde! Why should she? When they had made her feel so othered for all of her time there?

She spent the night venting all of her rage and complaints, all of her sorrow and hopelessness, all of the emotions that felt far too heavy to carry on her shoulders. Then in the morning, she folded them all back up neatly in a box and carried on.

The second night, after setting up her campfire, she took out her notebook and she made a plan. She wrote out a list of everything she would need to do, everything she should do, everything it would take to save this Change forsaken country from whatever monster it had created to cannibalize itself. It took a lot of scribbling out bad ideas and writing in the margins of pages to add onto what she'd already written. Hours of messy scrawling across multiple pages.

Honestly, it felt like a waste. But it was better to make a mess now, when the only thing at stake was a few pages in her book, than later when it would be blood and lives on the line.

She needed to retrieve the orbs to open the House's front gate. She needed allies, she couldn't very well fight to save this country all on her own, no matter how independent she was. She would need coin, camping supplies, rations, and more knowledge than she currently had available to her. It was daunting, really, but it needed to be done. So she wrote her list, made her plan as well as could be expected, and she pushed herself forward.

To her great convenience and annoyance, word had gotten out about her being immune to The King's powers. Some chattering from Dormont, she assumed, had spread about her being the only one able to make it out of the House. They claimed she was blessed by the Change God, of all things!

Odile couldn't imagine how such a rumor had started, other than wishful thinking, she supposed. It must be comforting to think that one's god would protect you from something so horrifying. Being frozen in time had to be against everything that the Change God stood for, after all. If there was ever a time for them to step in, it would surely be now.

Odile knew better than that though. The Change God was a lazy deity at best. Even had she not known the truth of her blessing, nothing divine to it, she thinks she would be skeptical of such an ascertain. She wouldn't stand for one of her own accomplishments, her own determination and choice to go on this journey, to carry the hopes of the people, to risk her own well being and fight the King, to be attributed to the Change God. She corrected people of this assumption immediately and at every turn.

And yet… no one would believe her.

Whenever she claimed the truth, she was brushed off, or accused of being too modest, or worse yet, chided for trying to deny the work of a god! Of all things, that was the one that tempted her patience the most. It burned her more than she could express. She wondered if the Change God was laughing at her and glared at each new statue of it that she came across.

She crafted new charms for herself. Hands pressed together palm to palm for The Expression of Patience, A closed fist for the Expression of Rage, a sword for The Expression of Battle and Victory. She would need them, she was sure. Even if the clatter around her hips made her jingle a bit as she walked, she took comfort from the sounds. She pretended that it was the chatter of a nearby companion, that she wasn't walking alone. She kept a small coil of string in her pocket to tie them all together if she needed to move silently, and otherwise let them do as they may.

Traveling became easier for a while after that. It was still lonely. Her only constant companion was the sound of the charms on her hips, as if The Expressions were lending her their soft support. But she had a tent now, supplies, all the bare necessities. It would have to do.

Fighting Sadnesses was a struggle. While she did have at least one skill of every type, she was just one person. Every battle was longer and more drawn out than it needed to be, but there was little that she could do about it. Most people were willing enough to give her supplies, offer hollow words of encouragement, but very few were willing to actually help and none of them were willing to risk their lives against the King. The best she'd been offered was an escort to the next town and while it was never really enough, she took the offer anyway. Very little help was still better than nothing at all.

It was just a matter of time until something went wrong. She couldn't run from every scissor type Sadness that she came across, even if she tried.

And she did try. Odile was smart enough to recognize when she was in over her head. Unfortunately, the forest wasn't the best place for running and she was never the most graceful person even if she was aware of her surroundings. So even though she tried to run, she found herself getting caught up on the roots of a nearly overturned tree. She closed her eyes, bracing for impact.

But the impact never came.

Odile opened her eyes, only to see a stranger standing over her. "Knife to meet you!" they said, flipping their blade in their hand one time before making an X with their arms and charging forward. They took out the sadness with one hit. "Thought I'd lend you a blade."

The shock made her slower to react than she normally would. It wasn't every day one was saved by a mysterious cloaked stranger. By the time they'd backtracked to lend her a hand up, she had shaken herself out of it.

The stranger was… odd, to say the least. They were covered nearly head to toe. A darkless cloak hide most of their body but she caught sight of lightless clothes underneath, a large matching triangular hat sat on their head, lightless gloves covered their hands, and there was an odd mask covering most of their face. The mask was a darker shade, vaguely resembling an animal and leaving only enough of his face exposed for her to be able to tell that he was smiling as he extended a hand to her.

Odile decided not to look at this gift too closely… for now. She accepted the hand and let the stranger pull her up. "Thank you, stranger."

"No problem. I'd hate to see someone down on their luck."

She squinted at him, unsure if that was meant to be another pun or not. She shook her head regardless. "Yes, it would have been very bad for me if you hadn't shown up."

They released her quickly, looking around as if to make sure that there weren't any other enemies nearby. They looked like they were ready to retreat at any moment, but with the way they handled themselves in battle, Odile was reluctant to let them go so easily.

"Where are you headed, stranger?" She tried to put a bit of friendliness into her voice as she asked.

They paused, but with so much of their face covered, Odile couldn't really guess at why that might be. After a few moments though, the stranger shrugged. "Nowhere in particular, I guess. I've just been traveling the cost."

"Then perhaps you wouldn't mind accompanying me for a bit?" she asked. "At least until the next town."

The smile had yet to drop from the strangers face and now it ticked up even further. "I don't have a problem with that. I'd hate to blade you goodbye so soon."

She groaned, rolling her eyes at the bad pun, which only made the stranger laugh at her more. "Please tell me you don't plan to keep that up the whole time."

They laughed, flipping their blade again before sheathing it at their hip. "Alright, alright. I'll give you a break. For now."

Odile looked the stranger over once more. She wasn't sure exactly how large that cloak was, but she couldn't see any bags on him. "You seem to be traveling rather… light?"

The smile wavered at that and the stranger turned away from her so that she could no longer see it. "I have what I need."

Odile wasn't certain she believed that. Vaugarde was rather giving, so traveling with almost nothing wasn't impossible, but she would hardly say that it was recommended. "Hmm. Well, I suppose that I have to take your word for it." She took a step closer to him, but didn't try to peer around to see his face again. There was no point, really, when she could only see half of it. "I'm Odile, by the way."

The traveler nodded, turning to face her once more with a more subdued smile. "You can call me Siffrin."

"Siffrin," she repeated. "Nice to officially meet you."

__________________________

Travelling with Siffrin was an… interesting experience.

He didn't have a tent. Prior to meeting her, he seemed to have been content to climb up into trees and sleep there. How he found that at all comfortable or even how he managed to keep his balance, was a mystery to her. She offered to let him share her tent, which wasn't that much of a problem when they decided to sleep in shifts anyway to keep a lookout for more Sadnesses.

The first time Siffrin slept in her tent, he emerged wearing a different mask. This one was darkless and looked more like a rabbit, ears included. He also seemed to be using a different blade, similar in shape to the one she remembered, but the blade was a different shade and the handle seemed more elaborate.

Siffrin also had a talent for traps, using them to catch small game which did a lot to save her dwindling rations. He knew how to skin and tend to them well enough, though he admitted to her that he wasn't the best cook. He knew how to make his food edible, and even knew enough to identify and gather a few wild berries, plants, and mushrooms to add to the meal. It was more than Odile could pull off on the fly, but she wouldn't call it extraordinary. Far from it.

Odile resolved not to question her new companion at first, but as the days dragged on and they drew closer to the next town, her curiosity proved greater than she anticipated. Eventually, she bit the bullet and asked him over dinner one day, "Why do you wear those masks?"

Siffrin smiled at her, tapping his cheek just below the mask. "Oh this? I wear it as tribute!"

"Tribute to what?" she asked, a wry smile lingering on her lips. The traveler had an interesting way of speaking. It wasn't Vaugardian, it was too leading, left too many closed doors to remind her of Vaugardian openness. Not that she couldn't have made the assumption from his strange accent, but her accent was entirely Vaugardian despite very little else about her seeming so.

"The Change God!"

Odile felt the smile on her face strain. "You… I wouldn't have expected a traveler to take up a foreign god," she said, trying to be as diplomatic in her response as possible. She didn't want to let her bitterness at the god bleed into her interactions with her companion, but she would be lying if she said she didn't feel a bit negative about the reveal.

Siffrin's turned his gaze to the bowl in his lap, stirring the stew that he had just finished serving himself rather than eating it. "It's probably a weird question to ask someone about their own country, but… do you know much about the Change god? I know not everyone…"

"Enlighten me," she said, which wasn't an answer but would serve just as well.

"There's a concept that change is both celebratory and destructive, both good and bad. You might change in a way that benefits you or hurts someone else, or maybe you become someone that you love and have to leave behind the person that was important to someone else. There's no past to the Change God, just the present. Whoever you were doesn't matter, just who you are at any given moment." He looked up at her, but of course the mask kept her from knowing anything meaningful about his expression. "I think the idea is kind of… comforting, I guess?"

Odile couldn't agree less. Change wasn't something welcoming to her. It was pushy, expected, almost required at times. If you were stagnant, people tended to frown at you, though rarely would anyone say so outright. There was no right or wrong way that you were required to change, but there was a certain type of censure you received when you didn't. And even if Odile wanted to change, she wanted it to be on her terms, for herself, and not for some god. She didn't want everything and anything she was to be boiled down to the work or tribute of a god that she didn't even like.

She didn't say anything about that though. She remained silent and waited for him to continue. He hadn't actually answered her question yet after all.

After only a few moments more, he did. "To pay tribute to the Change God, I've decided to change in small ways. These masks are one way, like how the Change God statues all have different faces. And I switch between which weapon I use every so often, too. It's not a lot, no one would probably even find it all that impressive when the rest of me is the same, but…" Siffrin shrugged, turning his face back toward his bowl. "I like doing it. That's… what worshipping a god is supposed to be about, right?"

There was a genuine question at the end there, as if he really wasn't sure if he'd given the right answer. She suddenly wondered how young this traveler was. He was shorter than her, but height did not equate to age. The way that he kept so much of his body hidden, she'd hardly be able to guess. His voice was the most substantial thing that she could judge and while it did sound younger than her, there was really a lot of room between younger than her and clearly not a child.

She went too long without giving a response, it seemed, and whatever uncertainty Siffrin had shown was her promptly swept away as he smiled again. "Well, that's what I like to think anyway. So that's what I do! There's nothing more to it."

It seemed there was a lot more to it, but she had missed her chance to learn more. If such a chance had even really been on the table to begin with. It was difficult to imagine he would have metaphorically removed his mask anymore than that when he had still yet to remove his physical one for even a moment. Odile hadn't seen him without a mask, cloak, or hat since they'd met. Whenever she went to wake him for his watch shift or at the beginning of the day, he was somehow always already awake and masked. She didn't know if he slept with the thing on or if he was simply an early riser. Maybe he just didn't like to let down his guard or was a light sleeper. She didn't know and the way things were going, she wasn't sure that she would find out.

Odile turned her attention to her own bowl, taking a spoonful of the stew and humming at the pleasant warmth as it went down her throat. "At any rate, I thank you for sharing."

They nodded. Silence fell between for a while as they both ate, before they turned their head to face her again. "What about you? Do you have anything important to you in that way?"

What a vague way to ask that question. Though… she supposed it would be a bit forward to simply ask someone what god they worshipped.

"I do indeed," she admitted. She brushed a hand over her hip where several of her charms hung. "These are representative."

Siffrin tilted his head and leaned closer, curious but unwilling to breach her personal space by reaching out. She unhooked a few of the charms and held them out for him to see.

"They are known as Expressions. I made these chams to represent them."

Siffrin reached out to take them carefully, as if they might break in his hands if they weren't careful. "Tell me more?"

Odile nodded as she thought of how to explain. "There are hundreds of Expressions, but one only needs to pray to those that they want to. These represent the Expression of Patience, Expression of Battle and Victory, and the Expression of Search." She watched as Siffrin turned them over and over in his hands, seemingly studying the detail on each of the individual charms. "Each Expression has its own… domain, you can say. The charms are not a necessary part of it, I simply…"

"Wanted a physical connection to the idea?" he offered, head shifting enough that she could tell he was looking at her now instead of the charms.

"Precisely."

He smiled as he handed them back. "I understand the concept," he said with a cheeky grin.

Odile gave her own wry smile in return as she accepted the charms and returned them to their place on her hip. "Yes, I suppose that you would."

_________________________________________

They'd been on the road for just under a week before they finally made it to the city. It had been a longer stretch of travel than she'd previously made on foot, but with the addition of her new companion, it had gone surprisingly smoothly. The hunting that Siffrin had done saved her quite a bit in rations, sleeping in shifts made it easier for her to rest without worry that a sadness would sneak up on her, and having an extra hand for battle made fighting a bit less daunting. In every way that she could think of, having Siffrin in her party had resulted in a net positive.

The question then became, how could she convince him to stay and should she try?

"I have enough coin to get us rooms at the inn," Odile said shortly after they'd reached the town.

It was only because of the way Siffrin's mouth hung open for a moment that she could tell he was surprised. "You don't have to do that."

"It's no trouble," she told him. As much as she might want to save the coin, she was much more invested in saving Siffrin's goodwill. An extra day or two to make her decision and contemplate his company would be welcome. Even if she couldn't convince him to save Vaugarde with her, she might not need to lose him as a travelling companion just yet. "I can get us two rooms for two days, if that's acceptable?""

Again that look of surprise. She couldn't imagine why. Vaugarde was a country of kindness and, though she wouldn't call her own actions kind when they were tinged with ulterior motives, she didn't think it was that outside of what could be expected. Regardless, his mouth curved into a smile. "I'd appreciate that. And I'll pay you back!"

She sighed, but it was tinged with immediate fondness. "Siffrin…"

He held up a hand. "No, really! Before we leave the city, I'll find a way to pay you back."

"If you insist."

It took about ten minutes of walking around to locate an inn. She bought two rooms right beside each other, which she only stepped inside long enough to drop off her bag. A few more minutes of walking brought them to a cafe where they stepped into for lunch.

The meal was mostly silent, Odile's mind busy trying to move pieces around as she considered her plans. She knew that one of the orbs she needed to retrieve was nearby, but she'd need to meditate in order to get a better sense of it. Whatever this new sixth sense was that she had for the orbs, she wasn't used to it and it would take a bit of fine tuning for her to figure it out. Then of course she needed to restock and make another petition for help against the king.

She really wasn't looking forward to another round of people pointing at her and calling her the Change God's chosen. Yes, she was chosen, but no, it was not by a god. She was chosen by the Head Housemaiden of Dormont for completely practical reasons! She knew battle craft, had an attack of every type, was old enough to have experience but was still young enough to make the journey. It didn't have anything to do with her belief or lack thereof, it didn't have anything to do with divine intervention, and the fact that Vaugarde would rather believe in their lazy god than the will of it's people only became more frustrating the more she had to look in the eyes of people who denied her her agency.

"Um, Odile?"

Odile blinked out of her thoughts to look at Siffrin. There was a wavering smile on their face that let her know that whatever she had been feeling, she had not done a good job of hiding it. "Yes?"

"Would… you like to see how I make money in cities like this?"

The offer was… a distraction at best. She was under no illusion that they had formed such a deep bond that Siffrin wanted to share personal details of himself with her. If that had been the case, they would have done so while on the road and thus far all she had learned about them was that they had some sort of admiration to the change god. Even so, she wouldn't brush this opportunity aside. She wouldn't convince Siffrin to remain with her by keeping a careful distance between them.

"I'll admit that the idea sparks some curiosity."

The smile Siffrin offered her was more steady, more real, in her opinion. "Then I'll show you after this."

"Alright."

They made a quick stop back at the inn. Siffrin disappeared into their room and returned wearing a different mask, mid shade and shaped like a fox, their cloak was pinned back in such a way that it was more of a cape, and there were a handful of bracelets and bangles on both arms. She studied their changed appearance and they ducked their head a bit, as if shy.

Odile offered them a smile that she hoped would ease whatever worry or tension had sprouted up in them.

Siffrin smiled back, small but sincere. "Come on, we need to find a good spot."

She didn't question what they would need a good spot for. She was content to wait and find out.

They spent around half an hour wandering around the city. It was rather large, so finding a spot that would net them the attention they wanted without being in the way of anything took time. The spot they eventually chose was adjacent to a fountain, a small ring of nature cordoned off from the rest of the city. There were a few people sitting on nearby benches or in the small patches of grass by the fountain. Odile took a seat on the fountain's edge as she waited to see what Siffrin would do.

It started very subtly. Siffrin didn't do much to get anyone's attention, but the way his bangles clattered against each other was enough to attract minor attention all of their own. He held up his hand, flicking his wrist in a way that caused the bangles to jangle and clapped his hands, slowly creating a beat. Then he stomped his foot, adding to whatever song he was trying to create. That got a few eyes to look up at him.

Siffrin threw their arms out, all flourish and exaggerated movements, keeping their limbs moving enough that the bangles still clacked together. They stuck one leg out, slowly bringing their arms back toward their body, before launching themselves into a spin.

From there, everything moved quickly. Their movements were practiced, smooth, and graceful. The constant sound of their bracelets and the stomping of their feet continued to keep a beat that they could dance to, the mask added an air of mystic to the performance. They took off their hat, did a few flourishes with it, before tossing on the ground just a few steps away. Out of their dancing radius but still close enough to keep an eye on. That seemed to be the signal that all the watches needed to get up and get closer, some throwing coins into the hat and others just wanting a better look at the dance.

Odile found herself rather impressed. She knew from the way that Siffrin fought that he was quick, light on his feet, graceful, but seeing it in this context was entirely different. He seemed very aware of how his movements looked to the crowd, how long he could go without needing to refresh the beat in the minds of his audience, which movements were slow and steady enough to be quiet and which ones would jangle the bracelets together.

The routine lasted for quite a while, long enough for some of the spectators to leave and come back with friends. Long enough for passerbyers to see the commotion and be drawn in. Long enough that she could see him breathing heavily and, just barely, spot the sweat rolling down the side of his face. Siffrin was good at managing his own stamina. He'd started slow, picked up the pace, and then moved between slower movements and faster ones. He ended the routine with a spin that allowed him to unpin his cloak, letting it close around him as he posed on the ground. Between his hat and his cloak falling closed around him, he looked like a little tent on the ground, clearly closing off his body from the crowd as if drawing a curtain to signal the end of the play.

There was an explosion of cheers and applause. Odile found herself standing to join in with the excitement of the crowd, even if she was more reserved than nearly everyone around her. Several people went up to congratulate him on his performance even as most of the crowd dispersed. Siffrin exchanged a few words with them, but seemed to shrink into his cloak more than anything else.

Once they were all gone, he went to retrieve his hat, bringing it with him as he came to sit beside her. He only looked through the coins briefly, barely counting more than what was needed to repay her before holding his hand out to her. He smiled, brighter than he had during the entire performance. "See! I told you I would be able to pay you back."

Odile shook her head as she accepted the coins. "I didn't doubt you, but you needn't have repaid me so quickly. We have those rooms for two days."

"I… I know." He ducked his head again, brushing his hand through the coins still pooled in his hat. "I didn't want to forget though."

Odile hardly thought that two days was enough time to forget such a thing, but she didn't argue.

"And anyway, now if you decide to leave early or something, you won't have to wait for me before you can go."

There was… something a bit sad about that. Maybe it was the expectation that she would leave him. No, that she would be so impatient to leave that she wouldn't even stop long enough to give him a goodbye.

He… really wasn't Vaugadian, was he? Was he new to traveling through Vaugarde or was it simply that, like her, he couldn't wrap his head around the kindness of these people? Had he run into more people like the ones she remembered from her childhood, the ones that tried to be kind but pushed their fingers into open wounds anyway?

She… had intended to wait a bit longer before making the offer but… maybe Siffrin was as hungry for companionship as she was.

"Siffrin?"

He turned his head toward her, but remained silent.

"What are your plans after this?" she questioned. "After you leave the city?"

There was a pause, one heavy enough that she knew the answer before he came up with one. "Oh, I, um, hadn't decided yet?"

Again, he ended it like a question, as if he wasn't convinced that he was giving the right answer. Odile pursed her lips, wondering what it was that seemed to make him doubt his own answers so often. "Well, if you haven't decided upon a next destination, then perhaps you'd be amenable to continuing to travel together?""

He straightened, head snapping toward her. She couldn't see his expression, so she was forced to pay more attention to his body language in order to read him. Not that she needed to be particularly attuned to Siffrin in order to anticipate the surprise that might come from making this offer. "Uh, would you really want to?"

If she didn't know any better, she'd have thought that he sounded… happy?

"I would appreciate the company," she told him. "Though before you agree, I should tell you what exactly you'll be agreeing to."

He leaned toward her, quiet and attentive.

Odile took a deep breath. "I don't know if you would have heard about it yet. There was some fiend calling himself a king, going around and freezing parts of Vaugarde in time. I'm planning on trying to stop him."

"Freezing… in time?" he repeated. There was more confusion than disbelief in his voice, but she felt the need to clarify as much as she could anyway.

"It's some type of craft that no one has heard of before. No one seems to be quite sure how he is doing it. The fact that stands that someone needs to stop him and for the time being, that someone is me."

"Why?"

It was… an oddly innocent question. Why was she trying to stop a crazed tyrant? Why her instead of someone else?

A small chuckle snuck out of her. "It has to get somehow," she answered. "And for the time being, I'm the only one that seems to have taken up the responsibility." She didn't mention that she had the ability to resist his time freeze. She didn't want to suffer through another round of ineffectually trying to ward off incorrect assumptions.

"That doesn't seem like something you'd be able to do all on your own," he said softly.

"No, it isn't," she agreed with a small smile. "I don't mean to force your hand in this. I'd appreciate your company even if you don't want to join me in stopping a tyrant."

Siffrin jumped, perhaps shocked that she'd want his company even if he wasn't helping her?

"I wouldn't leave you to do something like that all alone!"

Odile shook her head. "It's quite alright. I realize that we hardly know one another, it would be too much to expect…"

Siffrin shook his head adamantly. "I want to come with you!" Then, seeming surprised by his own volume, he shrunk back into his own cloak. "I-I mean… I enjoyed traveling with you… and we fought pretty well together, right? So, if you want my help, um…"

Whatever courage he had managed to scrounge up seemed to have run dry here. She didn't need him to say more than he had though. Nor would she hold him to his commitment this early on. If he was willing to stay with her for a while longer, perhaps until after she was able to retrieve the first orb, then she would see how he felt about staying with her for the full journey. And how she felt about his company, as well.

Not that she thought she'd have the luxury to turn away allies, but… Well, she would see how things went. No need to get ahead of herself.

"Alright then, Siffrin." She offered him a sincere smile. "As long as you're willing, I would very much welcome having you on this trip with me."

#ELS Writing #Odile #Siffrin #In Stars And Time #ISAT #Fanfiction #Role swap au #Traveling Masks AU

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denial-permanente · 9 months ago

Note

This is more of a question for Tom. Do you feel more confident when you are wearing the larger strapon? I know most men (myself included) have a deep seated feer that our cock is not "big enough" to properly satisfy our partners even if they are perfectly satisfied with our size. Our strapon is just a bit larger than I am, but when I am wearing it I just feel more confident. My wife notices my new found confidence and finds it quite attractive. I just wanted to know both of your thoughts/opinions on it.

As always, I love your blog and it has been quite the inspiration for both me and my wife. Keep it up.

🔏 This is a fantastic question. First, let me give you some background.

While I was not worried about my (very average) size, I have to admit that years ago when we got into "foxing" (ie, me wearing the strapon), I was afraid that if we bought a dildo much larger than I was, I'd either be locked longer than I really could stand, or that Mrs Edge would no longer be satisfied with "just me" again. That's how we ended up with the Vixskin Tex - a very average model that was just about my own size and shape. We stuck with the Tex for many years.

In 2018, after a little break, we got back into keeping me locked for a long term, and the Tex was back into the game. However, unlock previous long term lockups, this one went on... and on... and at some point, Mrs Edge found herself realizing that this could become permanent. By the fourth year, we both realized that this was going to go on forever. The knowledge that I wouldn't have to worry about measuring up after being unlocked made me think that a large one could be even more pleasurable for my wife.

I didn't surprise her with it; instead, I suggested the idea, gave her time to think about it, and we went shopping on the Vixskin site to look for a replacement. We ended up with the Ranger X - essentially a scaled up Tex. The Vixskin X line adds a thrid layer for even more realism, and we justified the expense because it was going to be the only one we would end up using.

On paper, the Ranger was only an inch longer and a half inch thicker, but in person it seemed much bigger (In fact, my wife later told me that she wasn't sure if she would be comfortable with it). And indeed, I had to learn - relearn - how to use it, because unlike the Tex, this did not feel like "me" to either of us.

Two weeks later, in the throes of passion, my wife told me that I could "throw those other ones away." It's been two years since that happened, and there's no longer any question about this being permanent.

That was the back story. The Ranger X is "me" now, both to my wife and to my own thinking. I don't even fantasize about making love to her any other way. And neither does Mrs Edge.

I'm not sure if "confident" is the word that I would use. I was never really worried that I couldn't please her when we had sex. That said, I do feel intensely satisfied after I give her several good orgasms and she has to tap out. Who doesn't enjoy giving pleasure to their partner?

But I still have a lot of mixed emotions over all of this. On one hand, I know that I will be locked and denied for the rest of my life. Yet, when @mrs--edge reminds me of this, I still get butterflies in my stomach at the idea of being "replaced" by the Ranger. On the other hand, I don't feel denied - that is, I do not feel like I am missing out on anything, and I still initiate sex even though my caged equipment won't be a part of the action. I look forward to it, even without the physical sensation or the orgasm. And I think that my wife, like yours, notices this and responds positively to it. She certainly seems to enjoy our time together. 😉

#chastity question #foxing

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littlexscarletxwitch · 2 years ago

Text

── ༊*·˚⋆ 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗽𝗼𝗼𝗿 𝗹𝗶𝘁𝘁𝗹𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗴

paring: florence pugh x innocent!fem!reader

tag(s): nsfw, smut with no plot bitchez, innocent r (or at least I tried), dom flo (or at least I tried)

warning(s): MDNI, wlw sex, explicit smut, legally age gap, oral sex (r receiving), vaginal fingering (r receiving), kinda innocent virgin r, grammatical error

word count: 2.3k

note: here's the winner of the pool :D. So, go easy with me on this one. I'm still practicing how to write smut, so bare with me. I'll get better in time. NOT ME WRITING 'Don't worry, darling'. I SAW AN OPPORTUNITY AND I TOOK IT, NO REGRETS. Also, I just want to say how hard it is to write this shit. Like I can picture the whole thing in my head, but I need to add emotions to it, you know. It's not as easy as I always thought it was. Anyways, I'm not a native speaker, so please let me know about any sort of mistake. Hope you guys enjoy! <3

note 2: would you guys be interested in dark smut content for Florence? Like I've seen it for Lizzie, Scarlet and their marvel characters. But there's not much for Florence. And I'm a really kinky bitch, so I wouldn't mind writing it. But would any of you read that kind of content? 🤭

requests are open! + check my rules here <3

The fact that you were Florence’s little sister’s best friends and off limits, because Raffie said so, was a major turn on for the blonde.

She wasn’t sure if it was because of your big doe eyes, your obliviousness towards her dirty jokes or just your shyness. But there was something about you that just set her skin on fire.

You had always piqued her interest. And now that your body resembled the one of a young beautiful woman, she was even more curious about you. Well, maybe just curious about your body. Lucky for her, her curiosity would be soon satisfied.

You were waiting for Raffie to get off work. Naturally, you were at the Pughs, since it was pretty much your second home. But no Pughs were actually around. Just Florence.

The both of you decided to kill some time while watching a movie that was already playing on the telly. You were so bored that you were actually paying attention to the movie. Florence, on the other hand, was paying attention to your every reaction.

It was a +18 film. Florence knew that, but you didn’t. And she knew the film would get a reaction out of you, that your cute little body would react to the adult scene. At least, that was what she was expecting. And man, you did not disappoint her.

The spicy scene finally made it into your sight. She carefully watched as your eyes and body were taking in the scene.

At first, you thought it was a simple kiss. But then the kiss became more passionate and now they were taking each other's clothes off. You took a big breath as the couple undressed themselves. Your brows were furrowed, a lump had formed in your throat and you, unconsciously, rubbed your thighs against each other, noticing that a certain part of your body was getting weird.

“Are you okay, Y/n?” she asked innocently, as you shifted in your seat.

“Yeah, I’m good,” you said, your eyes not moving away from the screen.

You slightly tilted your head to the side, trying to understand what the couple was doing and why your body felt like burning and weird.

“You sure you’re okay?” she asked, once again.

She knew you were getting hot and bothered, that was what she had expected of you. She wanted you like this, so she could help you out.

“Yeah, I just feel a little weird.”

“How come? Are you feeling sick?” she played dumb.

“No, not sick. I just feel like I need to pee but I don’t want to,” you whispered, looking down at your feet in embarrassment.

“Hey, it’s okay. I know how you are feeling,” she placed her hand on your thigh. You felt your skin burning under her touch.

“You do?”

“Yes, I do,” she smiled at you. “Does it feel wet down there?” she quickly looked down and then up to meet your eyes. She noticed they were filled with confusion. It was an adorable sight, her cute little Y/n didn’t know what was happening to her body.

“Yeah, I don’t know why,” you shyly admitted.

“Oh, you poor little thing,” she caressed your cheek. “You know, I can make it go away if you want to,” Florence bit her bottom lip, her heart picking up its pace waiting for your answer.

She was afraid that you would back down, since this was a whole new territory for you. But she would have a taste of you even if you said no, she would find another way.

“How would you make it go away?”

A grin formed on her lips at your curiosity and innocence. It turned her on seeing you like that, all confused and pure. She almost felt guilty for doing it, key word being ‘almost’.

“Well, there’s a few things I can do. But I can’t tell you, I would have to show you. Do you trust me?” she squeezed your thigh, making your heart flutter.

You only nodded, too dumbstruck at her closeness and her touch.

“If you want me to stop, just say it, okay?” you, once again, nodded. “But I have a feeling you’re going to like this.”

She closed the small gap between you two, connecting her lips with yours. Your eyes winded, you weren’t expecting that. But soon, you gave in and deepened the kiss. She gently bit your bottom lip, making you whimper and her tongue found its way into your mouth. You felt the weird feeling starting to grow down there.

“Flo, it feels even weirder now,” you whispered on her lips.

“I know, sweet girl. Just be patient, okay? I’ll take care of you, I promise.”

Her lips found your neck, leaving small kisses and bites on your sensitive skin. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head at the new feeling, your mouth was slightly parted. Your hand, instinctively, found its way into her hair, gently pulling it, earning a low moan from her.

“I need this off,” she tugged the hem of your shirt.

“Flo, I–.”

“It’s okay,” she cut you off. “I want to see you.” She carefully took your shirt off, and much to her surprise you weren’t wearing anything underneath it.

You were now self-conscious of your half naked body, you crossed your arms over your breast trying to hide them from her.

“Hey, don’t do that,” she said, gently moving your arms. She pecked your lips and whispered in your ear, “You’re gorgeous, Y/n. Don’t hide from me.”

She softly pushed you into the couch, now laying on your back she was straddling you. She trailed a path of kisses from your jaw down to your breasts. Your breathing became heavier the closer she would get your nipples. When she finally reached your left one, her tongue sucked on it. At first she was gentle, letting you take in the new feeling. But then she got rougher, not only sucking it but also biting it. You were a moaning mess under her.

Her right hand found your other breast giving it as much attention as the one that was on her mouth. She would massage your nipple, pinch it, twist it and rub it. Your back arched at all of the new feelings that your body was experiencing, your aching core gently brushed against her body, making you moan at the feeling.

“Flo, please…” you begged.

You weren’t sure what you were begging for, she was taking care of you as she said, but you felt like it wasn’t nearly enough.

“Let’s take this off then,” she said, her fingers finding the waistband of your pants and pulling them off your body.

Your legs instinctively closed. She raised her brow at your action.

“What did I say, Y/n?”

“Yeah, sorry I–.”

“No uh, tell me. What did I say?” she cut you off.

“Not to hide from you.”

“Exactly, do as I said, okay?” you nodded. Even though she was sort of scolding you, her tone was still gentle. A perfect balance of kindness and demand, which sent shivers down your spine.

She kissed your breast one last time before moving further down your stomach, getting closer and closer to your aching core. You gasped as she left kisses on your thighs, carefully spreading your legs open. She noticed the only piece of clothing left on your body was soaking wet from your arousal.

“I will take care of this now, okay?” she looked up to you, wanting to know if it was okay.

“Yes, please.”

She gently brushed her tongue over your slit, making you whimper at the small lick. Her fingertips soon found your clit, still covered by the thin soaked cloth, and started to rub tight circles on it. Your eyes once again rolled to the back of your head, pleasure covering your whole body. But still, it wasn’t enough.

“Flo, take it off,” you looked down at her. You needed skin to skin contact, the piece of cloth was in the way. She raised her eyebrow at you again. “Please,” you finished.

She chuckled, glad that you were starting to get how things worked.

She teared open your panty, making your eyes wide open. “Don’t worry about it, I’ll buy you a new one,” she winked at you as your cheeks turned crimson red.

She traced a finger down your slit, gathering all your arousal on her fingertips.

“Well, look at that. All of this for me, little one?”

You weren’t sure what to answer her. But you figured you would agree to her words, giving the amusement look on her face.

“All for you.”

She went to kiss your lips, “I want to eat you out. Can I please eat you out?” she whispered on your lips.

You were so lost in your pleasure that you said yes, just giving yourself in enterily to her. You weren’t sure what she meant by that, but you knew she wouldn’t do anything to cause you any harm.

She positioned herself in between your legs and her lips found your clit.

“No, Flo. That’s dirty,” a moan escaped from your lips, even though you really thought it was a dirty thing to do.

“It’s not,” she said. Her words were muffled as she tasted you.

Her lips were sucking on your clit, making your skin feel as if it was on fire. Gently biting from time to time. She licked up through your folds and then pushed her tongue inside of you. Your hands went to find her hair, pulling her closer to you, making her nose brush against your clit. The feeling of dirtiness washing away, replaced by bliss.

“Oh, shit, Flo.”

“How does it feel?” she blurted out, still attacking your cunt.

“Feels so good,” you said through moans and groans.

“You taste so good, peaches. So good, baby,” she pulled back, you whimpered, missing her touch. “I’m going to use my fingers, okay?”

You noticed her voice got rougher and she seemed to have stars in her eyes.

“Your fingers?” you looked at her in confusion.

“Don’t worry, darling. You are going to love it,” she sent a wink your way.

She adjusted herself in between you, once again. Her tongue found its way back to your clit, and she gently pushed her index finger inside of you. You loudly moaned out her name, making her groan into your pussy, which caused your body to tremble at the vibrations.

“You feel so good, baby,” she felt as you clenched around her finger. “Do you think you can take another finger?”

She didn’t let you answer before pulling her index finger out of you and pushing back in two of her fingers.

“Damn it, Y/n. You are so tight.”

“Flo, It hurts,” you cried out. You’d never had anything inside you before, you weren’t sure if it was a pleasant or an unpleasant feeling.

“Shh, it would be okay,” she cooed. “Just relax, baby. Tell me when I can keep going, yes?”

You whimpered, trying to adjust to the feeling. You took a big breath and nodded, letting her know she could carry on.

She slowly pulled her fingers out and back in you, thrusting deeply into you while her tongue sucked on your clit. She curled her fingertips making you whine in pleasure. Your grasp back on her hair became stronger, pushing her into your cunt, wanting more of her. Her free hand found your breast and massaged it, adding more into your pleasure. You were biting your bottom lip, trying to contain all the moans and whimpers from coming out of your mouth.

Florence looked up at you, her mouth and fingers still doing their work, and took in the sight right before her eyes. You were glowing, and not just because of the thin layer of sweat covering your cute little body. No, it was more than that, it was the pleasure she was giving you. She rubbed her thighs together trying to ease the arousal in her own core. She swore she could cum just by looking at you. But that moment wasn’t about her, it was about you.

You soon started to feel a knot in your stomach, growing tighter as Florence’s mouth and fingers worked wonders on your lady parts. You were starting to feel as if you were going to pee.

“Flo, I think I need to pee,” you said, almost out of breath.

She sensed the worry in your tone, which only turned her on even more. How could you not know all of this stuff?

“It’s okay. Just let it go, peaches.”

“No, Flo. I won’t pee all over you–” your own moan cut you off.

She could feel your cunt clenching her fingers even harder. She ignored your distress, her hand went back to your waist, gently pushing you down, keeping you steady, and continued her assault on you. Thrusting her fingers even faster and sucking on your clit even harder. She felt as your legs wrapped around her, as if a part of you knew better than to let her go. She could almost feel like she would suffocate with your cunt, but she couldn't care less.

“Stop, Flor–” you felt as the knot in your stomach untied, a wave of relief and pleasure bursting all over your body. You couldn’t stop moaning out her name. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, your back arched like a cat, your legs were trembling at the overwhelming feeling, your breathing was uneven and your heart was beating so fast, as if you had been running for hours.

Florence slowly pulled her fingers out of you, sucking all of your juices, not wanting, not even a drop, to go to waste. Once she was done, she licked her fingers clean, her eyes not leaving yours. A lump formed in your throat as she did so.

“You did great, Y/n,” she said, taking her finger out of her mouth, making a pop sound. “Do you think you can help me out now?” a grin formed on her face as she looked at your dumbstruck face.

Likes, comments and reblogs are appreciated! <3

-M

#florence pugh #florence pugh x fem reader #florence pugh x you #florence pugh x y/n #florence pugh x reader #florence pugh x reader smut #florence pugh smut #florence pugh imagine #littlexscarletxwitch's fic #your fav florence pugh blog <3

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kpop---scenarios · 9 months ago

Text

Obsession (2)

Pairing: Chanyeol x Reader

Warning: Stalking, Threatening, Launguage

Word Count: 3.8k

Part One

It had been a little over a week since you and Chanyeol fucked, and it had been radio silence. You had hoped he would have texted you by now, but you didn't want to come across as that needy girl. So you kept it cool, until you couldn't keep that cool any longer.

“Oh my god!” Jennie yells. “Did you hear the latest news?” She asks, rolling her eyes. You had been invited for a night out at Baekhyun's apartment with everyone in your new friends group. You had partially expected Chanyeol to have been there and when he wasn't you were disappointed. You liked him and wanted you get to know him more, you also wouldn't have minded fucking around with him again.

“What!?” Lisa asks. Everyone was intently staring at Jennie, impatiently waiting to hear what she had to say.

“A little birdy told me that Chanyeol and Maya got back together.” She says, trying to stifle a giggle. Every single person that sat around Baekhyun's living room table groaned so loudly. Sehun, Baekhyun and Jisoo started fake sobbing, Jongin threw his head back in frustration, Lisa started to pretend to gag, while Kyungsoo began muttering about how he had to go back to avoiding Chanyeol.

You, on the other hand, sat there in complete shock. He had a girlfriend? How long has this been going on?

“What's wrong with her?” You ask, glancing at the dramatic group around the table.

“Let's just say, Maya is..” Baekhyun pauses.

“Insufferable.” Kyungsoo sighs.

“Stuck up.” Jisoo adds.

“Fucking annoying.” Lisa says.

“She's like the worst possible human in the world.” Jongin says. “I don't know how he puts up with her.”

You nod your head, you didn't have anything else to say. You felt hurt and confused. Your hands played with the full shot glass that sat in front of you. Just as Sehun was about to say something, the front door opens and in walks Chanyeol with a big smile on his face.

“Hey guys, what are we talking about?” He asks, plopping down on the floor, across the table from where you and Jongin sat. You felt the anger bubble up inside of you, and even though you had planned on saying nothing, words came out of your mouth.

“Oh, just talking about how you have a girlfriend.” You say, looking up at Chanyeol, staring him in the eyes. They go wide, as if he's a deer in headlights.

“Oh, uh.” He chuckles. “Yeah, surprise, Maya and I got back together.” He says, looking away from you to avoid eye contact. You continued to stare at him, you hoped he could feel your stare burning into him.

“But why?” Baekhyun asks. “Why would you do that?”

“What's wrong with her?” Chanyeol laughs.

You were uncomfortable. You were sad, mad, annoyed. Every emotion was felt right at this moment, and it was like Jongin could sense it. He moved closer to you, putting his arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer into him. He turns his head to whisper in your ear. “You okay?” He asks. You continued to look at Chanyeol who was now eyeing up you and Jongin, trying to process why his arm was around you.

“Uh huh.” You whisper back, breaking off the eye contact with Chanyeol. You gave Jongin a small half smile, hoping he would stop questioning you but that didn’t work. For the next 45 minutes, every few minutes you would catch Jongin looking at you, you could tell that he was questioning how quiet you were, wondering why and why you wouldn't tell him. You’d finally had enough social interaction for the night and decided to go.

“I’m going to head out right away.” you announce. “Just using the bathroom first.” you finish, walking towards the bathroom. You stepped outside to see Chanyeol standing outside the bathroom door, his arms crossed as he leaned against the wall.

“You’re ignoring me.” he says, looking over at you.

“You have a girlfriend.” you say back. “Were you together..when..” you pause.

“No!” he exclaims. “No.. I, uh, met up with her afterwards. That's who had texted me..and we got back together that night.” he finishes. You can feel the tears threatening to fall. You didn’t want to cry over him, it totally wasn't worth it.

“Great, I'm happy for you.” you say, walking away from him. You grab your jacket, and again, Chanyeol stands in front of you.

“Let me walk you home.” he says, grabbing his jacket.

“Nah man, you stay. I already told her I would take her. Don’t worry, I'll make sure she’s safe.” Jongin says, coming up behind you. He slides his arm around your waist, pulling you towards the door. You were grateful for Jongin, but you really hoped he wasn’t getting the wrong idea. The two of you chatted about anything and everything on your walk, he made you laugh - hard. You continued to laugh all the way to your front door. Unlocking your door, you look at Jongin.

“Thank you.” you smile. “Really.”

“Anytime, Y/N. and look..” he pauses. “I don’t know what's going on between you and Chanyeol, but just know you deserve more.” he finishes, flashing a dazzling smile before starting to walk away.

“Wait!” You call out. He turns around. “You know?” you ask him.

“I had a feeling,” he says. “Good night.” he finishes, walking away. You walk into your apartment, feeling exhausted. You didn't realize how much of a toll this night had taken on you until you laid in your bed. You hadn't even taken your clothes off, but you didn’t have the energy any longer, swiftly falling asleep.

You woke up the next morning, feeling refreshed. As you crawled out of your bed you heard a loud banging at your door. Looking out the peephole, you didn't see anyone there, so you opened up your door, only to see a dozen purple tulips sitting outside your door. A smile spreads across your face as you look for a note.

Miss me yet?

Your smile faded just as fast as it had appeared. You stared at the note, a very uneasy feeling pulsing through your body. You brought the flowers inside, took a deep breath before deciding what you were going to do. You walked into your kitchen, dumping the flowers and the note into the garbage can before heading back to your bed. You'd already had enough for today. All day, you lounged around, your phone was off, you ate and watched shitty movies. You cried, you laughed, you slept. It was the perfect day before classes on Monday, you were dreading them already. You were not taking anything easy, and your entire body was a ball of stress.

Monday you had minimal interaction with anyone, you went to classes, had lunch with the group, went home to study and work on papers and it was the exact same on Tuesday. When Wednesday rolled around, you were so excited. The week was almost done, not to mention the group had decided to do a Friday Friend Dinner every other Friday, and this week it was on. Drinks and good food, you couldn't wait. Kyungsoo was an amazing cook, you often craved his food.

You were walking to your class, when out of nowhere you're yanked to the side. You looked over only to see Mark standing there with a smile on his face.

“Hi baby.” He says, leaning in closely. You try to back up, but you back straight into a pillar. “Did you like the flowers I sent you?” He smiles, moving closer. “I've been waiting all week for you to thank me for them. It hurts me that you haven't done that yet, Y/N.” He finishes, his smile dropping.

“Oh!” You say, forcing a smile. You were trying so hard to not show him any fear even though it was radiating through your entire body. “I didn't realize it was you. There was no name on it. They're so beautiful, Mark, thank you.” You smile. You needed him to calm down and let you go without an issue. You watch his facial expressions, he was getting angrier.

“Who else would they have been from?” He snaps. “Are you seeing someone else?”

You didn't know what to say. He stares at you as the panic sets in. Your body is trembling as he gets closer. You let your instincts take over, pushing him away from you.

“Leave me alone.” You scream. He rushes back towards you, slapping his hand over your mouth, stopping you from screaming anymore. Before you can react, Mark is pulled off of you, thrown down to pavement. You look over to see Chanyeol standing there, huffing as he stares down at Mark.

“Didn't I tell you to keep your fucking hands to yourself?” Chanyeol yells. He goes to you, grabbing your hand to pull you away. He takes you out into the open, and you see a blonde girl standing there with her arms crossed and a scowl on her face.

“Chanyeol.” You breathe. “Thank you.”

He looks at you concerned. “Has he been bothering you alot?” He asks.

“No, no. He sent me flowers on Sunday, with a note but no name attached. I guess he was mad that I didn't thank him.” You explain. “I'm sure he's gotten the message now.” You half smile. You were trying to be okay but you weren't. Your body shook, you felt like you were still in shock. You looked over at the girl who looked even more unimpressed with you.

“Hi.” You smile, holding out your hand. “I'm Y/N.” You say.

She scoffs, rolling her eyes. You retracted your hand feeling uncomfortable now. She looks at Chanyeol with a pout. “You let go of my hand to help her, Channie.” She says. “I'm so sad now.”

Chanyeol sighs. “I'm sorry Maya, do you want me to buy you something?” He asks. She perks up, grabbing his hand to pull him away, spewing on about some purse she wanted.

You already hated her.

Thursday, you didn't go to your classes. You stayed curled up in bed, answering the calls from Lisa, Jennie, Jisoo, Baekhyun, Jongin and even Kyungsoo, asking you if you were okay and what they could do for you. You were eternally grateful for all of them and how much they cared for you. They had asked you if you wanted to postpone your friend's dinner, but you didn't want to. It was something that you desperately needed to try and take your mind off your Mark situation.

Friday comes, and starts off better. You went to your classes that day. It wasn't until you looked at your phone, did your heart sink, and your anxiety flared up.

[From Unknown - 8:45am] I like your outfit today. You look so cute.

[From Unknown - 8:49am] I hope your first class goes well. I miss you.

You slipped your phone in your pocket, trying to focus on your lecture. Your phone doesn't stop vibrating the entire time you were in your hour and a half class. After it ends, you pull out your phone to read some of them.

[From Unknown - 9:07am] Please text me back.

[From Unknown - 9:10am] it's really not nice to ignore someone.

[From Unknown - 9:17am] Please, baby.

You deleted all the messages, only reading a few of them. You didn't want to deal with this. Maybe eventually he would get the hint. And he did, only until the afternoon.

[From Unknown - 2:47pm] I miss your smile. You looked so happy taking in the warm sun as you were walking.

[From Unknown - 2:52pm] Did you take a picture of the sky for your IG? I can't wait for you to post it.

You ignored them again, putting your phone into your pocket as you headed to your last class of the day. The hour went by quickly, with no excessive buzzing coming from your pocket. You were relieved but that didn't last long. As you made your way to Kyungsoo's apartment, the texts continued, and got progressively worse.

[From Unknown - 4:59pm] I don't fucking appreciate this.

[From Unknown - 5:04pm] You are being a goddamn cunt right now, Y/N.

[From Unknown - 5:07pm] ANSWER ME!!

[From Unknown - 5:11pm] I'm sorry, baby. I just miss you so much. Please answer me.

You sigh as you knock on the door of Kyungsoo's apartment, finishing reading the last message.

“Hey.” Kyungsoo smiles, opening the door. You walk into the most delightful smells, immediately causing you to forget about the texts. “You can join the others in the living room.” He says, heading back to the kitchen. You take your coat off, following the sound of laughter into the living room.

“Y/N.” Everyone yells, all happy to see you. You say hi to everyone, looking at Jongin, who mouths “sorry.” To you before you see Chanyeol with his arm around Maya on the couch. You wanted to roll your eyes so fucking badly. But your phone began to vibrate.

[From Unknown - 5:27pm] I can't wait to pin you down, kissing your body all over.

[From Unknown - 5:33pm] I'm going to make you cum so many times from my fingers when I finally get you in my bed. Do you want that baby?

You can feel the tears starting. Why won't he stop?

You press the phone button to call and scream at him but it won't connect. “This number is no longer in service.”

Maybe he deactivated it.

[From Unknown - 5:46pm] I hope you're not fucking Chanyeol or Jongin baby. I'll have to punish you for that.

[From Unknown - 5:54pm] Would you like that baby? I'm going to tie you up and punish you. I don't like being ignored.

[From Unknown - 5:56pm] Y/N. ANSWER ME.

[From Unknown - 5:59pm] I will fucking kill you if you don't answer me.”

You couldn't take it anymore. The tears fell as Kyungsoo walked into the living room.

“Y/N?” He asks, glancing around at everyone else. You completely break down, sobbing into your knees.

“Hey, what's going on doll?” Lisa asks, moving towards you. You slide your unlocked phone towards her, allowing her to read the messages as you sniffle.

“What the fuck.” She gasps.

“What? What do they say?” Everyone asks.

“Can I read them out?” Jongin asks you. You hide your face but nod your head. You didn't want to deal with this shit alone.

“Holy shit. He talks about what she's wearing today and gets mad at her for not responding.” He pauses. “I can't wait to pin you down, kissing all over your body.” He reads out. You look up, every single person there was pissed beyond measure. Except for Maya, who rolled her eyes at every text.

“Y/N answer me.. I will fucking kill you if you don't answer me.” He finishes in a whisper.

No one says a thing. Lisa, Jennie and Jisoo hug you tightly until Baekhyun pipes up. “Who wants to go hunt this mother fucker down and make him wish he never met our precious Y/N?” He says.

Everyone jumps up agreeing, including Chanyeol. Maya scoffs loudly at him

“What the fuck, Chanyeol?” She yells.

“Here we go.” Baekhyun laughs.

“You're going to protect her again? What about me? I actually matter.” She says, pouting again.

“Y/N matters too.” Chanyeol tells her. “She's important to me. As are all my friends.” He says.

“So I'm not as important as this fucking thing whose scared of a few little texts? Like grow up.” She yells at you.

“Who are you calling a thing, bitch?” Lisa snaps, standing up.

“Miss fucking cry baby over there.” Maya yells.

“Maya!” Chanyeol yells, his voice booming through the house. “Shut the fuck up.” He snaps. He glares at her, she tries to stand tall but she cowers under him. “Get your stuff. We're leaving.” He yells. “NOW.” He booms. She rushes out of the room without a word. Chanyeol mutters a “sorry” towards the group before slamming the door behind him.

The group sits in silence.

“Has anyone EVER heard Chanyeol yell that loud!?” Baekhyun asks, jumping up onto the couch. “I mean sure he's loud during game nights but holy shit.”

“literally never.” Jisoo says, her eyes still wide.

Kyungsoo looks at you. “Have you gone to the cops?” He asks.

“Yeah, you really should.” Lisa and Jennie urge.

“I have.” You sniffle. “They can't do anything for me until he physically hurts me.” You cry. “Apparently covering my mouth to stop me from screaming isn't enough.”

“That's messed up.” Kyungsoo sighs. “You shouldn't be alone. You need to stay with someone.”

“She can stay with me.” Chanyeol announces, walking into the living room.

“What happened?” Baekhyun asks.

“I ended things. For good.” Chanyeol says to everyone, before turning to look at you. “Y/N I am so sorry for the way she spoke to you. That was uncalled for and not fair.” He whispers with his head down. “You didn't deserve that.”

“Thank you.” You sniffle. “You didn't have to break up with her though.”

Baekhyun laughs out loudly, making everyone else laugh along.

“Yeah I did. It was time. I can't be with someone like that, I wasn't really into it anyways.”

Your phone buzzes again on the table.

[From Unknown - 7:08pm] I'm so sorry baby, please forgive me. Just talk to me.

Chanyeol picks up your phone, reading the message. He holds out his hand for you to pull you up. “We're going to go to Y/N's apartment and grab her things. I'll let you all know when we've made it safely back to my place.” He says. You go around the group giving everyone a hug while saying thank you to them. You didn't know what you would do without such great friends. you and Chanyeol didn't say much on the drive to your apartment. You were exhausted and just wanted to rest but you knew it wasn't going to come easily tonight. You and chanyeol head up to your front door, you unlock the door, letting him in first before you lock it back up behind you. You felt too paranoid to leave anything to chance. Chanyeol chuckles as he walks towards the table, patting it with the palm of his hand.

“This is a solid table.” He smirks. You roll your eyes at him, heading into your bedroom. quickly you find a bag, shoving your clothes into it, grabbing everything you can think of right now that you would need. You grabbed your charger and your laptop, and just as you thought you had everything, you heard a loud, rapid banging on your front door. You freeze. Chanyeol puts his finger to his lips, telling you to be quiet. He waves you back into the room, mouthing for you to hide. Quietly, he creeps up to the door as the banging continues. He looks out the peephole, all he can see is black hair.

“Yes?” He says, his voice loud and deep.

“Where's Y/N?” He asks. You can hear Mark's voice.

“She's not here. You need to leave.” Chanyeol announces. “She's not interested in you. You need to move on.”

“Hah. I need to move on? She and I are meant to be together. You tell her I'll see her soon.” Mark yells, leaving Chanyeol's view. He opens the door slightly, making sure that Mark is actually gone. Chanyeol calls you out of the room, tears streaming down your face. He wraps his arm around you, taking you out of your apartment, heading for his car. You were terrified that Mark was going to be out there waiting for you. But he wasn't. Chanyeol opened the car door for you, you got in, placing your bag on the floor.

The drive is silent. It was late, you were drained. Walking up to Chanyeol's apartment, he unlocks the door, letting you go in first. It's bigger than you thought it would be. It was decorated very minimally, he had furniture around but not much else.

“It's very nice.” You smile.

“I'm still working on getting more things for it.” He laughs. He takes you to his bedroom. “You can sleep here. I'm going to take the couch.” He says.

“Chanyeol.” You sigh. “It's enough that you're letting me stay here, I can't take your bed too.”

He laughs. “You can. And you will. Get some rest okay? I'm right out there if you need.” He gives you a hub before grabbing his pj's and going into the bathroom. He comes out in a shirt and pj pants, heading for the living room. You dig through your bag, finding your shorts and a tank top to sleep in. You change and crawl into his bed. It smells so good. It smells like him. Sleep came to you easier than you thought, but it didn't last long.

You woke up breathing heavily, sweating and a little confused. You had dreamt that Mark had taken you captive and you were really shaken up over it. You crawled out of bed, heading to the living room.

Chanyeol laid on the couch, scrolling on his phone until he noticed you. He sits up quickly. “What's wrong?” he asks, standing up. He was no longer wearing a shirt.

Holy shit, you'd forgotten how ripped he was.

“it was.. a dream.” you start. “Mark.. he had..uh, kidnapped me.”

Chanyeol wraps you in his arms, in a tight and comforting hug. You hold onto him as tightly as you can, you feel so safe with him.

“Can you please sleep in the bed with me? I don't want to be alone.” You whisper.

He lets go of you, grabbing your hand and leading you to the bedroom. You both crawl into the bed, getting comfy. Chanyeol rubs your arm and shoulder as your back faces him. You quickly fall asleep, feeling more comfortable than you've been in a while. You wished the feeling of peace would last, unfortunately you knew it wouldn't.

You woke up in the morning with Chanyeol wrapped around your body. You were sweating so bad, you had no choice but to get up. You managed to wiggle your way out of his embrace, making your way to the bathroom and then to the kitchen. You snooped around his cupboards, trying to find something to make for breakfast. You settled on making eggs and toast, it was easy enough. As you continue scrambling your eggs, Chanyeol walks out of the bedroom, rubbing his eyes with a smile on his face.

“What's this?” He asks.

“Breakfast. Duh.” You laugh. You were feeling good today, you felt like it was going to be a great day. Until your phone on the table started to ring.

UNKNOWN NUMBER

Chanyeol grabbed your phone, declining the call and blocking the number.

“There. That should work.” He smiles. He sets your phone down, before it starts ringing again.

UNKNOWN NUMBER.

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