#their voices fit so well omg..... 😭💖

[lightlycareless]

imagine naoya leaving for work then comes naomi chasing after him with tears in her eyes because she knows she won’t see him for days.😭

HELLO!!!!

WELP MORE DOMESTIC STUFF ON THE WAY!!!! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA I love baby Naomi 😭 I wish it could be us Naoya and our baby happy together forever.

This has the same energy as when you and Naoya cry when realizing Naomi has to go to school or is at school and not home anymore 🤣 but omg this is such a dramatic moment in her life, the moment she realizes her papa isn't actually there most of the time, kept oblivious thanks to your consistent work of distracting her 😭 how dare we fool her?!

Anyways, here are the warnings: fluff. you have a daughter with naoya named naomi. she is smol... we need to protect her 🥺💖

Happy reading!

How you managed to keep the truth from Naomi for so long is something that has to be commended! Though your daughter’s innocence helped you a lot.

Naturally you felt bad for taking advantage of her naïveté, but it was genuinely the only way to prevent her from crying—alongside the video calls Naoya would always try to make back home: one in the morning during breakfast, another at lunch, and the last one before heading to bed.

Though it seemed that these calls were mostly made with Naoya’s benefit in mind, for the sight of Naomi's face lightening up upon hearing her dear papa's voice is one that always melted all his worries away, as well as anxious to return home.

So that, alongside your constant distraction of Naomi by bringing her with you to wherever you went, whether it being going from one side of the estate to the other to oversee your duties, or going out shopping with your staff, nobody could say your daughter was unattended—and subsequently, ignorant of her father’s absence.

Because of said things, the two thought of themselves to be very lucky to have such a well-behaved child, the envy of some in more ways than one!

Until she grew old enough to realize what was going on.

It was only inevitable, encouraged that she’d become conscious of her surroundings, which you began to notice when she started giving slightly more complex storylines to her dolls when playing with them… as silly as that might sound.

And while it was endearing to see her grow, it was also highly worrying, for you fretted about the kind of reaction she’d have when she finally acknowledges the reason why her father wasn’t around—an unprecedented event that occurred as followed.

As customary, you always made sure to either ask your staff to distract Naomi whenever you were off to bid your farewells to Naoya, or if his departure is happening at night, place her in bed, rocked to sleep by her papa before carefully sneaking out of the bedroom and meeting by the entrance.

Tonight, was to be the latter, with Naoya placing one last kiss on Naomi’s forehead as she snored softly, a sight that squeezed his heart, silently cursing his responsibilities and his supposed duty to the clan, collecting himself afterwards and heading over to your direction to get another spoonful of that same regret—why did he have to leave?

“When will you come back?” you murmur, wrapping your arms around his chest and holding him tightly against you, not wanting to let go.

“In a few weeks.” Naoya sighs, kissing the top of your head and resting his head above yours. “I hope Naomi doesn’t grow too much when I’m away.”

The slightest hesitation in your response is enough for Naoya to pursue the matter, placing his fingers underneath your chin and raising your gaze to his.

“What is it?”

“Oh, well—Naomi doesn’t fit in her onesies again; the ones I got her last month!” you respond. “…I fear that when you come back, she might not be as small as you remember.”

Naoya frowns.

There is one thing he hated from coming back home and that was realizing he’s missed out in his daughter’s growth—and for something as stupid as doing these lousy missions HQ couldn’t bother to assign to literally anyone else.

Though, in some ways, it was his fault. For he wanted to reassure his position as the future leader of the clan, prove that he was worthy, and apparently the only way to do so was to drown himself with work.

«It won’t be much longer» Is what he’d tell himself from time to time. «Everything I do is for my family’s wellbeing. To give them a life where they can be safe and happy.»

A life where the only things either would have to worry about is what stuffed animals to buy for Naomi, or where should they go for holiday next time he’s off work…

Or what to do with a curious baby girl that woke up earlier than anticipated, upset that her parents weren’t by her side, leading her to exit her bedroom and head towards the direction she hears them to be, all in the innocent quest for answers— coincidentally, her parent’s torment.

“Pa—pa! Mama!” Naomi coos upon seeing her parents, a wide smile on her chubby little face as she rushed to them, a sight that would’ve normally inspired the two to run to her in return and scoop her into their arms. But for now, only made you wonder how she managed to escape Mariya’s attention?! Wasn’t she supposed to keep an eye on her?!

“Pumpkin, you’re supposed to be asleep!” Naoya says, perhaps thinking Naomi would stop on her tracks and head back—or who knows?

But she ignores his words, diligently continuing her way to them until she was able to cling onto Naoya’s leg, lightly tugging at the fabric of his pants as if asking him to pick her up and pepper her with all the kisses he gives her whenever doing so.

And while Naomi doesn’t retaliate when you’re the one that gives her those gestures, it’s only when you slowly begin to separate her from her papa that the issues begin.

Naomi first attempts to break away from your embrace by pushing away, looking over to Naoya then back to you with a whine and pout that lets you know this isn’t what she wanted, nor is she open to negotiate.

“You’re supposed to be sleeping, mochi.” You say, hoping she’ll understand and stop moving. But she doesn’t, if anything she insists even more! “Naomi, you have to—"

“No!” she cries, shaking her head. “Want papa!”

Her disappointment doesn’t come until she sees Naoya’s lack of initiative, the unusually quiet, distant response to her calls that made her eyes tear up a bit.

But her heartbreak only occurs when you eventually resort to the thing the two probably should’ve done way before, and that is, telling her the truth.

“No, baby, you can’t have papa because, well, he has to leave.”

Naomi frowns, the last sliver of hope unwilling to give up just yet, as if skeptical of your words, believing you to be hiding the truth…

Until Naoya confirms it as well.

“I won’t be gone for long— I just gotta do some missions, I’ll be back before you even—”

“No!” Naomi shakes her head. “Papa no go!”

“I have to. It’s my job; you know I’m a sorcerer and—”

“No! You don’t—you don’t—leave…!”

And so, she weeps, pouring her small heart out with the most heart wrenching cries either have ever heard in their life—because they weren’t ones of hunger or displeasure. They were ones of sadness, upset that one of the most important people in her life is leaving, to return God knows when.

“Naomi…” you murmur, attempting to comfort her by resting her head against your shoulder, to no avail. It was clear what she wanted, who she wanted, so Naoya decides to take her from your arms and soothe her himself, which in reality only made her cry even more, as if realizing this is the last time he was going to hug her—for now.

“I won’t be gone for long, princess.” Naoya attempts to comfort her, pinching her cheek in the usual teasing way that always had her giggling—but she was too distraught to do anything else but cry.

She couldn’t be blamed, for Naomi was only a child that just began to understand that sometimes, her parents weren’t always going to be there by her side. There would be moments where they’d have to temporarily part ways to do other things, but that didn’t mean they didn’t love her. Or that she wouldn’t be ok.

Maybe this was the result of your over-endearing ways. Perhaps the two were simply too much for her, and this led her to have issues at the mere thought of either’s departure. You were always there for her, anyways, so why did it have to be different now?

“Princess, there’s nothing to cry about, you know I’ll always be here with you…”

“Pa…paaa—!” she gaps, tightly holding onto his shirt with an unprecedented strength that only serves to reflect how heartbroken she was by his words. “No go!”

And she’d continue to cry well into the following days. Soon after waking up, having tired herself out by her tears, when remembering her papa wasn’t there anymore, and wouldn’t be, not even if she searched all around the estate.

The once hilarious video calls, for Naomi thought her father had shrunk, were now nothing but a sad endeavor, accompanied by her sobs and quiet pleads of his quick return.

“I love you, little mochi. I only left because I needed to.” Naoya would always remind her. “I’ll be back before you know it.”

“Mnnno!” She shakes her head. “Come back!”

“If you promise to behave, I’ll take you to that park you like so much.” Her papa offers. “We’ll get all the sweets you want, and we’ll also go visit your grandpa. You like it when we go visit him, right? With auntie Hinata and uncle Ren.”

But Naomi doesn’t stop, showing him again and again that she doesn’t want any of those things—she just wants her father back and that’s it!

…

It would be the first thing Naoya wouldn’t be able to fulfill for his daughter, the same one that provided him with the much-needed reminder that being a parent is more than just giving everything to your children; it’s also preparing them for the surrounding world. Teaching them that some things are simply not meant to be and that it was ok.

While this change was initially painful, for no parent would ever want their child to suffer, as well as difficult because at the end of the day, Naomi was still a child, and thus, struggled to grasp certain subjects…

It was also very gratifying to observe Naomi grow up. See her do things that she couldn’t before, or perhaps never cared about, and help her overcome them. Because it reflected the love and care both had for their small family, and all that was yet to come.

Things that neither could wait to see happen, the realization of the amazing person she was always meant to be and supporting her every step of the way.

Ngl you and naoya were moved that she was that emotional about her father but at the same time you obviously didn't want her to cry. aaaaa parenthood is conflicting, but we love naomi nonetheless.

Thank you so much for sending in this ask!! I love writing about these small moments, it makes their dynamic so much more enjoyable. I hope to get to write about Naomi's first day of school soon!!!

Until then, take care, and hope to see you soon 🥰💖

[angelofthenight]

can you pls do a dating headcannon for The twin from the devils carnival x readerpls.is okay if youcant but if you do i really appreciate it.

The Twin x Reader: Relationship H/c’s

Warnings: 1 nsfw + 1 angst h/c

Word Count: 1.6k

( I thought it would be fitting for this to be my first post after my hiatus coz it was the earliest ask in my inbox😭 This was requested before I considered doing requests and then it got lost but once I saw it again in my inbox I got rly excited about it coz idk how the requester knew the Twin was my absolute fav in the Devil’s Carnival. So pookie so sorry this was like a three year long wait😭 I tried to write as much as I could to make up for how long it’s been💖 )

♡ No matter how you ended up in hell (whether it be you died a sinner, you’re a fallen angel, you’re an angel sent to deliver a letter, or you were a mortal who got there by mistake), you met while he got you to play one of his booth games

♡ You won. And he was hooked on you right off the bat

♡ He rigged his own game so he questioned how you managed to win and you just simply explained how you knew tricks to win carnival games

♡ After that, he’s so intrigued by you that he practically follows you around like a lost puppy

♡ Always lurking a meter behind you, just simply observing you

♡ The first time you caught him carelessly following you, “Can I help you?” You snapped as you turned around

♡ He stopped in his tracks, not even trying to hide or make it look like he was doing something else, and just stared at you. He slyly smiled with teeth and wiggled his gloved fingers at you as a wave

♡ You nervously swallowed and hesitantly continued walking, cursing the soft sound of his following footsteps

♡ You thought he was creepy at first with his hunched back and layered voice but you eventually warm up to him since of how often he sticks around you

♡ Once in a relationship, ur done for. Coz there is NO getting rid of him now

♡ He was clingy before with the non-secret stalking, but now that you’re romantically involved he’s practically glued to you, always going back and forth from your left and right side, constantly hovering you like a hawk

♡ Your body is like a magnet to him, he’s always mindlessly inching towards you until your arms are touching. But he can’t help it! He’s cold blooded and you warm him up the best way possible

♡ He’s practically physically clinging around you a few times a day, breathing down your neck type of closeness

♡ Never in a way that made you feel suffocated tho, it actually relaxed you knowing his presence would always be within reach. Plus sometimes he’d be so silent you’d forget he was there, leading to you getting a heart attack when he suddenly said something

♡ He loves scaring you for your cute little reactions, like tapping you on the shoulder and hiding when you turn around, he likes the look on your face and the way your heart jumps

♡ So expect him doing that A LOT

♡ But like, no one else is allowed to scare you though. Just him.

♡ He’s a hisser when he sees demons that are nothing but trouble approaching

♡ No matter how you ended up in hell, he doesn’t like you going off on your own. He knows hell well enough to know that everyone is unforgivingly horny and there’s a handful of untrustworthy and sadistic demons who are always looking for new playthings

♡ So that’s one of the many reasons why he likes to keep you close

♡ Oh he is most certainly the jealous type! He’s practically green with envy anytime he sees you getting along with other demons. He’ll suddenly slip in between you two and claim he desperately needs you for an urgent manner just so he could steal back your attention

♡ Absolutely hates when anyone interrupts your alone time. He won’t yell at the trespasser, not wanting you to know think he wants to hog your attention that badly, but will glare and occasionally hiss until they leave

♡ Omg he DEFINITELY shifts into other people to ask what you really think of him

♡ You subtly catch on tho. Coz like, the Doll would NEVER ask you what your favorite and least favorite thing about the Twin was

♡ You always think about letting him get away with it, but you find it more entertaining to squish the person’s cheeks and look directly in their eyes and say, “(pet name), I know it’s you”

♡ He changes back almost instantly with a grimy pout

♡ Plays with your hair when he teases you

♡ He doesn’t shy away from pda at all, he doesn’t believe he should have to change his affections or tone it down when in front of others. This is Hell after all

♡ He likes taking walks with your arms linked together

♡ Surprisingly, he’s a bit of a romantic: always going above and beyond for dates, never shies away from showering you in his verbal love, you are literally his main priority and the center of his world. He basically organizes his day around you and your needs

♡ He’s kind of an old-fashioned type of lover

♡ Always doing magic tricks for you by your demand, he finds it cute how vividly impressed you get over his illusions no matter how many times he shows you the same tricks

♡ He once considered teaching you the secrets behind the tricks but then he got worried that you would stop being amazed by him

♡ He has a morbidly good memory, he even remembers the most pointless, insignificant things. Though his memory can get annoying in playful bickering or the rare arguments with him bringing up very specific things you’ve said

♡ You sometimes cringe to yourself in the middle of the night over the thought that he remembers all the embarrassing stupid, ignorant things you’ve said

♡ Serious fights are slim to rare in your relationship. He can almost never get mad at you for anything, and even if he does he doesn’t stay mad for very long at all. He literally subconsciously defends you all the time even if it’s him you’re arguing with

♡ His empathy for you also makes you unable to stay mad at him, plus his willingness to cooperation to fix whatever it is you’re mad at him about

♡ He’ll pretend to be grumpy and resent you softly caressing your fingers over his scales, but he secretly ADORES it. Well, he thinks it’s a secret but really everyone knows he likes it

♡ He’s a clinger when asleep. I imagine he’s like a snake curling around you and squeezing so you can't escape

♡ He does like to watch you sleep in the dead of night

♡ If you’re ever separated for something and you have to go somewhere for a certain amount of time, his whole demeanor quite literally deflates due to your absence. He’s so dramatic when he misses you, he acts like you died died

♡ The thing he loves most about you is your assertiveness and how you never stand for anyone disrespecting you or hinting at it, no matter who they are. You’re courageous enough to tell others off and confront anyone about a certain matter

♡ His favorite physical feature of yours is your smile. To him, it brightens up the dark atmosphere of Hell and it fills him up with a foreign feeling. He could stare at your smile for hours, not in a creepy way though… well kind of in a creepy way

♡ He’s a biter, affectionately and sexually

♡ NSFW: Sex with him is insane and very dirty btw, need I remind you again that he’s literally a demon of Hell?

♡ Angst: Deep, deep down in his bones lives the confident fear that this romance won’t last. That either something terrible will happen to you or you will abandon him. He feels as if the end of his blissful happiness is an unavoidable destiny for a demon in Hell like him

♡ One of the many things he’s grateful for and appreciates is your acceptance of him. Like yeah you were definitely freaked out by him upon first meeting but you quickly grew to adore all his little quirks and creepy traits, he’s still a demon after all

♡ He’s also grateful for and appreciates your trust immensely. He knows all too well that trusting your vulnerability and heart in the hands of a demon is the most lethal risk. So the fact that you demonstrate comfort when with him warms a part of his desolated chest that hasn’t ever been touched before

♡ He’s earned that trust of yours by his endless proven loyalty to you and how you’re always his first choice

♡ You will always be his favorite playmate and audience

♡ He enjoys the silent moments with you. What is he thinking about in those moments? He’s wondering what you’re thinking about!

♡ He’s fairly open with you with his feelings but not really his thoughts, he doesn’t want to scare you away… at least badly

♡ He would feel incomplete without you. You are his main source of happiness and he considers you as the one good thing in his life

♡ I think he would quite literally do anything you ask of him, I’m talkin heaven and back for you, and without the restraint of morals holding him back, the possibilities of his request granting are nearly infinite

♡ The effect you’ve had on the double-talker is evident to everyone with eyes. Everyone noticed instantly how he’s literally always with you

♡ Some demons claim he’s gone soft, but they only say that because of how he acts around you (like a wounded puppy), he still has little to no regard for others (others who aren’t you ofc)

♡ Most of them are just secretly mad and envious that the creepy-crawly snakish or lizardish or whatever he is demon got to fall in love

♡ Overall, having this slithery and hissy shape shifter as your companion can get very annoying… but somehow he endlessly makes up for it with his unwavering loyalty and infatuation for you and always keeping each day interesting

[shzmluvrs]

Hi! I'm the same anon that requested the "Batson and The Bat's son" imagine. I'm so glad you had fun writing it ❤️ and honestly- I can't stop rereading it 😭 words can't describe how it makes me feel (in the best way ofc!). I'm hoping it isn't too soon to be asking for a (kinda) sequel 💀 or prequel- depends on you!

Basically Billy talks about the reader to his family but he's kinda vague, since he doesn't wanna reveal too much and he knows Freddy would bombard him and her with questions if he says too much. They also haven't met the reader yet so they start joking that she's imaginary. One day the team gets themselves into a situation they can't get out of. So the reader comes in and saves them and in the heat of the moment Billy says smth like "SEE- SHE'S REAL". After he says that he has to inevitably introduce the reader to them. Idk what else I want to happen 😭 tho I trust your creative mind 🛐 pls take your time and have a good day ✨💖

Omg haii😼!! I'm so happy you enjoyed it, like, I wasn't sure how well it was going to turn out, but I think I did right by you, which is always the goal for any requester🫶🏽. Anyhow, yes, I am happy to continue your "Wonder-Daughter dates Billy" lore, I'm super into this, and I really hope you like it😙💕.

~ Star✨️

Themyscirian Girlfriend

Prompt: The duties of being an "average" teenage boy are proving to be quite difficult for Billy. School, chores, being a superhero, keeping your family safe from supervillains, magic, and monsters... And, oh yeah, making sure you don't get beat up by your superhero girlfriend's best friends. OH, and make sure you don't reveal her secret identity to anyone...

That last bit is extra difficult when you have a nosy, superhero obsessed, younger-by-a-month little brother, though.

Timeline: Post S!:FOTG

TW/Content: Freddy teasing TF outta Billy⚡️Bizzaro cameo😱?!⚡️Swearing, cuz teenagers do that⚡️You (reader) being so awesome-powerful-cool⚡️Billy loving you so, so, so much🥺⚡️So many references, be like Ash and Ketchum all

Reader: Fem! She/Her/Hers Pronouns! Wonder Woman's Daughter!

Requested By: Anon

Back to Master List

The golden light casted above the two of you dowsed your body in gold, creating an aura around your figure that Billy wished was nothing short of permanent. Not that he didn't already believe you to be a gift he had no clue how he earned. He just thought the added halo effect seemed fitting, even if it was just a result of a house/porch light that needed thorough cleaning.

"Thank you for joining me today." You spoke once he disconnected his earbuds from the jack of his phone. "I had a great time with you, as always."

"Of course! I'd never miss a chance to go out with you." He admitted, a lot quieter than his voice had previously been on the walk back to his home. But swiftly, the confidence returned as he clicked his phone off and smiled.

"Next time, I'll introduce you to some Steve Lacy."

You tilted your head while he went on in better clarification.

"He's another musician. You'll like him."

Your lips formed an 'Oh' shape as you nodded in understanding before placing a gentle kiss on his cheek and then his forehead.

"I'll see you next week, okay, Billy?"

He nodded, ignoring the heat rising through his body at your simple acts of affection. Maybe he had gotten a little used to giving it, but receiving it back was always such a hassle for his mind. Though you couldn't help but find it endearing when he'd trip and stumble over his words or be genuinely left in surprise whenever you'd reciprocate whatever love he had to offer.

But not this time, because he had focused himself on a heavier subject matter, his words catching you before you could walk away.

"Do you really have to go?"

"Hm?" You hummed in confusion, your head turning to look back at him. It was once you saw the look of forlorn glossed in his eyes that you gave him your full attention again, making your way back in front of him as he explained.

"For the week, I mean. Do you really have to go all the way back to Them... There-is... Themu...uh..."

"Themyscira?" You finished, Billy nodding at the correct pronunciation of your birthplace while you giggled.

"You can just call it Paradise Island. But, thank you for trying."

Billy nodded respectfully, almost laughing while he talked.

"Yeah, I bet it is paradise if there's more girls like you over there..."

"Huh?" You quirked a brow at his statement, Billy immediately sensing his slip-up and grasping at loose straws to fix it.

"I... I just mean, because like, I really like you and since you're from there, there's other women like you, or...your mom."

"What?!" You gasped, Billy letting out a curt sigh at his own, horrible explanation. So, he just gave up instead. It was probably for the best. Or, more accurately, in his best interest.

"I just-! I'd...! I love you, and I'd never breathe in another person's direction because nobody can compare to you...?"

"...Much better." You praised his statement that came out as more of a question waiting for your approval, giving him a playful narrow of the eyes while he gave a breath of relief.

"But, yes, I do have to return to Themyscira. I am due to compete in this year's Amazonian Olympic Games. They will determine whether or not I am worthy of my title and abilities. You, of all people, should understand this given you have a magical wizard looking out for you and your family, yes?"

"Well, yeah, but-"

"-Plus, I just..." You sighed, looking off for a moment in melancholy. "I just really want to make my mother proud. She was much younger than me when she first competed, and though she didn't win, I still have a lot to live up to since I haven't returned in nearly eight years."

Billy nodded, showing his understanding for the matter while your gaze remained glued to the porch floor beneath you.

"Are you nervous?" He asked, and almost instantly, you nodded. Hell, just thinking about the whole ordeal made the jitters appear in your stomach and hands.

"Immensely."

With a warm smile, Billy gently took both of your hands into his, cupping them so they'd stop shaking while making sure he was able to hold eye contact with you.

"Well, I just want you to remember that you'll do amazing. No matter what happens, you're still worthy to me, and you'll always have a place here. Just, y'know...be careful. And good luck; don't let them get in your head."

"Oh, Billy..." You sighed in fondess but didn't get to express any further gratitude for his kind words as he went on.

"And also, call me if something happens."

You gave him a look, one that was a clear expression of, "Do you really think we have those silly little phone-thingies on the island...?" He caught it, nodding side to side a little before re-wording.

"Send me a bird letter if anything happens. And like, seriously, be careful because I know it's probably a long trip there and back. Which reminds me, please come back soon. And-!"

"-Billy...!"

He hushed.

"...I will, don't worry yourself. I'll be careful, I'll send you bird letters, and most importantly..."

Just as you had before, but directly on his right dimple this time, you placed down a gentle kiss. A reminder and a promise.

"I love you. And I will be back as soon as I can be."

You watched in amusement at the boy in front of you beginning to grow even more bashful than before, unable to look you in the eyes for fear he'd just crumble beneath you. And honestly, neither you nor him would have it any other way. But, just to be on the safe side and make sure he didn't actually do so, you were quick to capture him in a real kiss. Billy eager to return it with a passion that was predictable yet always appreciated and matched.

"You know I have super-hearing, right...??"

The voice went echoed into the air, the same place your skirt and hair went flying at the sudden gust of wind that almost knocked the two of you over.

"The hell...?" Billy commented as he held you to keep the two of you from falling over, looking around in confusion while you merely rolled your eyes.

"Jon..." You all but murmured, and in reference to his super-hearing, he responded with another burst of speed and more echoed words.

"I'm just saying, like, are you two done now? I don't wanna hear you guys swap spit."

"Obnoxious with the use of your powers, I fear you may hardly deserve them...!! Bring yourself here so you don't have to keep listening in!" You shouted in a scolding tone before letting out a breath and shaking your head.

"Sorry. He's my ride." You both explained and apologized to Billy, the boy nodding in understanding with a slight chuckle before the two of you smiled at Jon's very fast appearance. Stopping right in between you with a quickly dispersing cloud of air behind him, he was quick to give you a joking snarl as you shot him a deadpanned glare.

"Can we go, now? I have a cerfew, too, y'know."

"Yeah, well, some of us can't fly, nor have super-speed. Consider yourself lucky."

The raven-haired boy simply shrugged, sticking his hand out towards Billy to initiate a greeting that the brunette returned with a smile.

"'Sup, Jon?"

"Nothin' much, just, y'know... saving the world. No biggie."

Billy nodded in understanding as they dapped each other up, a smug smile gracing both of their lips.

"Same, same."

"Idiots..." You sighed, unable to contain your smile at the friendship that had blossomed between the two. Damian, on the other hand... was still a work in progress, hence is absence.

It wasn't long after their brief moment of catching up that the two of you took your leave, Jon carrying you as you waved down to your boyfriend for the final time this evening, him waving back until Jon was swiftly out of sight. A loud, crashing boom of him breaking the sound barrier to follow up after that caused the front door to swing open.

"I thought I said no Shazaming in the house...?"

Billy whipped around to face Victor, thinking quickly to come up with a viable excuse.

"It wasn't me!"

Nice one, Billy.

"It was my girlfriend, she just left, like... two seconds ago."

Victor raised a brow at his son's explanation, watching as he scratched the back of his neck while continuing to ramble on.

"Well, technically, it wasn't her. She was getting a ride from someone else and he- It- Whatever, nevermind, it doesn't matter."

The man chuckled while his son slipped past him and into the house, letting out a teasing, "Girlfriend, huh? I guess that explains the..." and circling around his own face to imply something. Billy, who didn't even spare a look back, hadn't caught on upon making his way to the dining room.

──────────── •⚡️• ────────────

All five of his siblings, his parents, and welcomed guest Anthea, watched as Billy shoveled spaghetti into his mouth at an ungodly rate. Which one would think would be impossible for a literal demi-god, but here they were. Alas, it's not like anyone could really blame him. It was his favorite meal, it was Rosa's cooking, and he was sick of the vegetarian meals Darla had been making for the past four days.

Although, it wasn't the main reason he was being gawked at in the moment, Freddy and Eugene the ones to be stifling laughter while the rest wanted nothing more than to tell him. It was clear he didn't realize, it was just a matter of how to approach the subject...

"Um... Billy?" Mary began gently, the teen not even looking up from his plate as he continued to eat, unknowing of his entire family's attention on him.

"You have... a little something, like, all over... your face right now." She made the same circling motion around her face as Victor had prior, not that he saw that one either. Just missing it, actually, finally looking up to notice all of the odd stares towards his seat at the table.

"Oh." Was his only reaction, setting down his fork to wipe his cheek. It gained more unseen giggles for some reason, but his only goal was to get back to eating, so natrually, he brushed then off with a curt, "Thank you, Mary." and continued is stuffing.

"No, you still..." Anne spoke aloud this time, her words trailing off when she realized she hadn't caught him in time once he started eating again.

"You just made it worse, dude." Mary giggled, having to lean her head down on the back of her hand to hide it.

"Oh." Billy spoke again, brows furrowed in the slightest while Rosa had set down her own fork. She motioned for her son to come closer, picking up a napkin and slightly dipping it into her water.

"C'mere honey, let me just wipe them for you..."

"Mom- No, stop it, I got it." He reassured, slightly embarrassed by her offer while going for his own napkin. "I'm not five."

And with one quick motion of his napkin up and down his face, it was clear to everyone but him he had simply made the situation much worse.

"There."

It drew in more laughter, this time from everyone, as he stared around the table in confusion that slowly turned into annoyance. It was like being on the outside of an inside joke, and if there was one thing he was tired of feeling in his life, it was being left out.

"What...?" He questioned, Darla the first and very eager to ask simply out of her own and pure curiosity.

"How come you got kissies all over your face?"

. . .

"...Huh...?"

Everyone burst into laughter, Billy's questioning gaze soon shifting into one of realization as he thought back. Back to moments that felt forever ago, where you had placed kisses across his face. Kisses with your lips coated in dark red lipstick...

"Oh... my god, (Y/N), why... just, why...?" He cursed your name lightly, now taking up Rosa on that offer to clean his face. Not that it mattered, his face still as dark red as the kisses that had now been wiped clean out of sheer embarrassment.

"So that's her name?" Victor pointed out, his voice and chest swelling with pride for his son's unadmitted achievement in life. Getting himself a girlfriend. "(Y/N)..."

He moved his hand across in the air as though your name were the title to an upcoming movie or a fresh take. A new and interesting topic, something this family thrived in, especially during dinnertime. And Billy, natrually, was not at all prepared and internally scolded himself for not being careful enough with his words.

It only grew more chaotic from there, Mary, Rosa, Darla, and Anthea letting out squeals loud enough to rival the TV playing in the living room as background noise.

"Billy, you never told me you had a girlfriend! Since, uh, when...?"

"Why would I ever tell you...?" Billy countered Mary's words, Darla already voicing her fantasies on merging her into the already big family.

"Her name is so pretty! Is she pretty, too? I bet she's gorgeous, like a princess! D'you think she'll play mermaid princesses with me?!"

"She must be...!" Rosa agreed swiftly with a laugh, motioning towards Billy fondly with her hand. "You saw all of the little besos she gave him. She probably thinks the same of you, Billy... My sweet boy with his own girlfriend, aww...!"

She just couldn't take it, placing a hand over her heart out of pure happiness for her son who had seemed to have finally found his love. His first one, at that. Which yes, he did, but-

"Mom, stop it, it's not that big of a deal, please..."

Not what he was thinking when you first asked him out, but whatever.

"Oh my gosh," Anne gushed, already jumping in with her own opinion to give. "With a name like that, she's bound to be amazing."

"I-" She kept going, Billy hardly even able to inhale as his siblings gushed on.

"Does she go to Fawcett, too? How come we've never seen her around?"

Freddy's scoff of a laugh caused the attention to leave Billy for a split second and move onto him, the curly-haired boy casually taking a bite from his own plate while he spoke.

"Pro'lly 'cause she ain't real..."

He jumped slightly when Anne quickly landed a slap to his arm, his mouth full and chewing as he laughed and went, "What?" Before it was his mother's turn to scold him verbally.

"Be nice, Freddy, this is probably a big deal for your brother."

Billy rolled his eyes. Not at Freddy (even though he debated kicking him under the table for his implication). But at the sudden attention he was receiving on the topic of his accidentally mentioned girlfriend. He hadn't even known whether or not if he was ready to tell them about you, let alone introducing you to them. Plus, he didn't trust himself enough not to slip up about the fact that you were Valkyrie. Or Wonder Woman's daughter. Or... both facts.

But on the other hand, he wouldn't tolerate any slander of your name, nor would he allow either of you two to become the target of any teasing from the family, so...

"Well, first of all, yes... she is real, Freddy..." Billy glared in his direction, the room going quiet at his words while he continued to clear the case of your existence up.

"And second, Darla, she is... beyond gorgeous. Like, angel levels of pretty, it's unbelievable."

"Wow!!" Darla squealed in excitement as Freddy gave a small tilt of his head to the side.

"Unbelievable, wow, you don't say?"

But nobody heard, too focused on the description of your person and enthralled with just the way he did it. Full of passion and care they hadn't even realized the boy possessed for anyone outside of the family, let alone a girl. A love that couldn't be replicated or replaced, something that'd make you glow red if you had been in the room to hear it.

"She's got this amazing hair that frames her face perfectly, and she wears glasses, but when she takes them off, you can see how, like... just wow her eyes are. They remind me of a type of jewel or something because they literally sparkle when she's happy or are firey with determination when she's- uh... doing something that requires a lot of focus.

Her entire face is just something I can't stop looking at, and gosh, that girl is... her body is-..." He coughed. "She's a little bit taller than me, so... yeah..."

"And you just... never thought to maybe bring her over? Y'know, just 'cause..." Freddy shrugged, holding back his complacent tone as Eugene bobbed his head in agreement.

"And, let me guess, she texts you all the time, and you go on walks around the park together every Saturday."

At their back-to-back quips and hushed laughter, Billy shot them a scowl as Rosa began to nod in oblivious agreement.

"Yeah, sweetie, why don't you invite her over for dinner tomorrow night? It's a Friday, after all. You can tell her we'd love to meet her."

With a chorus of agreements settling consternation into his chest, he blurted out a slew of excuses as he waved his hand up and down as if to brush the idea of you coming over away.

"Nah, no, that's... she- We already have a lot of people here, she might get... overwhelmed! Yeah. And, y'know, it's just not a good idea."

"And whyyy not?" Freddy pushed, leaning against the open palm of his hand while feigning an affable smile and forcing his brows to jump up and down in silent suggestion.

"She's busy." Was his simple statement, Eugene following up on his claim in an instant.

"Busy doinggg...?"

"...Work." He filled in the blank awkwardly, practically squirming in his seat at the expecting silence. He conjured up some of your favorite hobbies in his mind, anything as far away from superhero work as possible, so he could word it as some type of job that you "have".

"She works as a (Favorite/Hobby), and she's probably gonna' be, like, swamped with stuff to do, so... tomorrow wouldn't work."

"Oh, how wonderful!" Rosa praised, impressed by your skills and interests. "We'll certainly have to make time for her over the weekend or next week then!"

"She can't. She'll be busy all week, too."

"Natrually..." Freddy poked with a theatrical eye roll and a closed-mouth grin. "She must be on the 'twenty-four-seven, forever' shift, which I'd expect from a girl with an imaginary sense of work-life balance."

"Harhar, you're hilarious." Billy mocked, now going through with his actions to send his brother a kick to the shin under the table.

"She's actually going to-...on...uh..." He had to stop himself. What would've been a smug brag about you visiting Paradise Island, becoming a realization that would just throw you under the bus. Plus, it's a lot more unbelievable than everything he had said so far. As much joy as it would bring Billy to rub a trip to Themyscria in his face, he'd just have to make Freddy jealous another time. Besides, he didn't necessarily have to lie. He could just not tell them the full story.

It wasn't a lie if he never told them otherwise to begin with.

"She's going on vacation. With her mother. So, she's gonna' be gone for the rest of the week."

"Oh, really?" Mary piped up out of genuine curiosity, having always wanted to travel herself. "Where's she going?"

. . .

"Out of the country."

"Oh."

"How convenient!" Eugene chirped while he slid his phone towards Billy, as if he were telling him to go ahead and prove it. "Why not just FaceTime her, then? You know, just check in like any good boyfriend should? Maybe even shoot her a little text."

"I can't do that!" Billy exclaimed. "I wouldn't wanna bother her or be rude or anything. She's- it's a... mother-daughter bonding thing, it's different. Hard to explain."

In a sense, that could also be construed as truth, considering you'd be competing in an Olympic event, racing and fighting against others and the elements to both claim and prove your status. Something that would ideally make your mother very proud. Billy himself didn't even one-hundred percent understand the whole event, so it was right for one to assume that he probably would have trouble explaining it to his family. Should he ever have to, of course.

Good thing he won't.

A silence loomed over the family as Billy loosely twirled his spaghetti around his fork. He'd almost be grateful for it if it weren't so uncomfortable. He was sick of being pressed about you, not that he wouldn't take any chance to show you off otherwise. And if it wasn't that, he was annoyed at the way Freddy and Eugene didn't seem to even believe you were real, Mary and Anne able to sense this as they gave each other an unsure look.

"Uhm, well..." The goddess coughed, playing with the hem of her (Freddy's) sweater. "How'd you two meet?"

Finally! Something Billy knew the proper answer to!

"Oh, we were-"

Ohp-. Wait, nevermind. No he didn't.

You two were saving the world when you first met, battling a beast that wasn't even real because it turned out to be a test? He didn't know the details of that dilemma very well, either. All he could remember fondly was the way you looked at him when he accidentally revealed himself. Warm and promising, full of care and will-power that he'd been drawn to ever since.

The same look you gave him when you asked him out on that very first date, where he-

Oh, great idea...!

"At an ice cream shop. I was at an ice cream shop, and that's where I met her. She had never had any before, and so I suggested she start off with something simple, like vanilla. I bought some for her and we spent the rest of the afternoon together. We've been going out ever since."

"Awww~!" Rosa and Anne chorused, Freddy already calling nonsense at the story with a few chuckles hidden behind his hand.

"Wait, so... lemme' get this straight..."

"Frederick..." Anne warned with his full name. He ignored (and he'd be apologizing for it later, no doubt).

"You mean to tell me, this girl has never had ice cream before? Like, in her seventeen-to-eighteen years of life, she had never had one singular scoop of frozen milk and sugar?"

"Dude-"

"-Nevermind the fact that you just, outta' nowhere, decided to rizz up some random girl you didn't even know inside of an ice cream parlor."

"Yeah, Freddy, I did." Billy snapped, waving his hand around in the air for a moment as if he were magically conjuring up the false memory. "And apparently, it all worked out because we've been dating for months, now. Thank you very much."

Jaws dropped at this, having not expected such a bond. It was one thing for Billy to have started a fresh relationship. Maybe for him to even be a little secretive about it until things had proven to be smooth sailing for a long time. But months? Either he forgot to brag about it, or she most definitely didn't exist.

Freddy and Anne almost immediately turned to give each other a knowing look, as if they were reading each other's minds before speaking in unison.

"Is this like a Canadian girlfriend thing...?"

Billy huffed through his nose, knowing better than to let insults fly at the dinnertable with his parents present. But regardless of that fact, Mary was the first to tell he had grown fed up, nudging Victor on the arm while she murmured.

"Here we go again..."

"She's real, okay? (Y/N) is very much real, and you two are just jealous because it took an entire dragon rising from the depths of hell for you two to get together."

And off he went, storming away, leaving Freddy and Anthea's mouths agape in shock while Pedro and Eugene practically sobbed from their loud chortles.

"Do you think he'll come back this time if I call him?" Victor cheesed, Mary shaking her hide from side to side at his reference from the last time Freddy had pissed Billy off at the table. Speaking of which...

"Alright, yeah, whatever...!" He called as if the older boy was still listening. "At least we can all actually see my girlfriend...!"

──────────── •⚡️• ────────────

"Is it her?"

Though Freddy's index finger was very obviously directed towards a young girl in the hallway, his brown eyes remained glued to Billy's green ones, waiting for them to change in recognition. They didn't, remaining as stoic as they had when Freddy first began this little game of "Point Out The Person That Looks Closest To Billy's Imaginary Girlfriend."

"No."

"Okay, then it's her." Freddy suggested next, his arm practically flying across Anthea's person just to point his finger at the girl they waltzed past. Billy swore that if the poor thing wasn't in between them, he'd tackle Freddy to he ground, in the middle of the hallway and all. So, maybe it was a good thing Anthea was there.

Billy's eyes drifted to the next victim, a short girl with scene hair and huge platform demonias that stared them down in confusion. He quickly shook his head.

"No, it's not her. (Y/N) is way taller than her. Genetically, without platforms."

"Fine, what about her?" Freddy waved lazily in the direction of someone ahead. "She looks like your type."

Billy huffed.

"That's literally just a guy with long hair."

Freddy's face twisted in disbelief, shaking his head as though he knew better.

"No it isn-"

"It is." Anthea cut in before her boyfriend could finish, turning him towards the person who had finally spun away from his friend and proving to Freddy that he was, in fact, just some dude with a gorgeous head of hair.

"Oh. Mm-."

"Can you just-?" Billy started a desperate plea that went ignored as Freddy smiled in satisfactory, spotting the next girl. Who, yes, was actually a girl this time.

"What about her? Look, she's even how you described, glasses, tall, (Your/Feature), the whole shaza-...shebang..."

Billy hardly wanted to entertain this any longer, but upon looking her direction, noticed swiftly how oddly her features did line up to yours. And yet...

"No, that's not her. I told you already last night, (Y/N) doesn't go here. She's... homeschooled." He excused, quite proud of how fast he had come up with it. Plus, it was kind of true, Diana the one who had taught you most of your studies. And when not her, a private tutor Bruce had graciously spent his money on for you to have.

Yes, the Bruce Wayne.

"Oh, of course. What an awesome coincidence."

"Freddy, stop it." Anthea nudged him, not allowing the teasing to continue any further upon seeing the scowl from last night returning onto Billy's face.

"I'm sure he's probably telling the truth, I mean, what reason would he have to lie? Besides, she's probably just...shy. Maybe she's shy."

And though the girl was satisfied with her answer, Billy could only laugh giddily to himself while remembering the time you had allowed him to watch a very special training session you had in the past.

"Yeah, if you call accidentally bodyslamming Superman "shy," then sure. Most timid girl I know..."

"What was that?"

"Nothing...!" He brushed his remark away when he had almost been caught, quick to change the subject before he could be questioned any further.

"Guys, look, just drop it, alright? I know you don't believe me, and you know what? I don't care anymore. I'm happy, outside of the fact that you're really working my nerves, and that's all that matters. I'll see you two later..."

"Billy, hang on...!" Anthea called, having not meant to cause a fuss on the matter. She couldn't help it. She was entirely too good-natured. But, there was Freddy, always there to ease her own tensions and make her laugh in the process.

"Agh, don't worry about him. He'll get over it. You know, the imaginary girlfriend thing is a common phase, cited by phenomenons all across the globe of people with the exact same conditions and symptoms. Lois Lane even wrote an article on it way-back-when she was first starting out."

"Oh, yeah?" Anthea entertained smugly, Freddy nodding fastly as he droned on.

"Totally. It was a very interesting article, but it made total sense. I mean, even I went through a phase just like it, and I turned out fine."

"Oh?"

And then it clicked, Freddy's face growing a deep shade of red under his freckles.

"Yea- Only when I was like, super tiny-young, I mean. Like, it was- I..."

His rambles stopped when he noticed Anthea's raised brow, almost laughing to himself while they paused in front of her classroom door.

"Just...forget I told you that. I love you my very much, my real and amazing girlfriend. I swear, my pillo- I mean, Jennifer was just a quick fling and nothing compared to the goddess that stands in front of me...?"

Through her giggles, she nodded, pressing a kiss to his cheek and taking her leave.

"That's what I like to hear~. Now, don't go off 'saying the word' while I'm gone, 'kay?"

Freddy nodded at her parting heed, knowing it was a reference to the way he'd ditch class to go off and do hero work without warning.

"I won't, I won't...!"

──────────── •⚡️• ────────────

"SHAZAM!"

"Alright, what's the plan?!" Freddy shouted as they all gawked up towards the threat, Billy shrugging casually while he shook his head as though he were literally wracking his brain for a proposal.

"Uhh...Ahhh... No idea! I think we should just wing it, to be honest...!"

"That's a terrible plan!!" Mary and Anthea shouted in unison, the shorter girl using magic to cloak over herself and change into her armored attire.

"Superman's weakness is Kryptonite, right?!" Mary swiftly informed the group, Freddy nodding in confirmation. "Good! If Bizzaro is anything like him, it should be the same! If we can distract him long enough for one of us to catch him from behind, we'll have a chance at detaining him! Then, we can send him back to his world...!"

"Yes, awesome, Wisdom of Salamander...!" Billy praised, leaving all of his siblings to groan.

"Solomon...!"

"Whatever...!!"

And with that, they put her plan into action, Freddy and Pedro flying up high until they were facing the Kryptonian clone with complacent, challening grins.

"Hey, Bizarro-Man...!!" Freddy called, nudging Pedro. "Since you're a copy of Superman, is it really true you have super strength like him?! Betcha' we could take you in a fight...!"

The villain merely scoweld, sending a sudden breath of flame towards them. Freddy dodged, Pedro just missing his chance to do the same before being his with the blast and being sent flying into the nearest billboard.

"...Fire breathing?! You can breathe fire?!" Freddy yelled in a panic, unable to add on how that was very much unlike Superman's notable ability of freeze breath before realizing Bizarro was barreling straight for him. Freddy took off, both of their super speed rivaling each other as he crated a path for his siblings to follow.

"Where are we gonna' get Kryptonite?" Darla gasped, all of their heads turning as the two flew by. Mary pondered the situation deeply, having never even seen the green emerald herself, let alone come into contact with it. She figured it was a lost artifact, a gem only the most powerful would have. Except for Superman, all things considered. So maybe more like magical powerful people.

People like...

"The Wizard!" She shouted. "He's the most powerful person we know, having kept all of his powerful objects in his lair, right?"

"Yeah," Billy agreed. "But what does he have to do with anything? He's not the-"

"I know, but the lair is ours, now!" She explained further. "Which means so are all of the things in it!"

"But-!"

"Anthea, Darla...! Go help Freddy and make sure to keep Bizarro busy! Eugene, go help Pedro, make sure he's alright!"

"On it!" Anthea gave Mary a nod, Darla having already dashed away as Eugene made his way towards his brother.

"Billy, you come with me, hurry...!" Mary instructed, grabbing his wrist and practically dragging him along as he followed in confusion.

"Mary, where are we going?! This is really not a good time to ditch them, we-!"

"We're not ditching them." She insisted, opening a random shop door with the intention for it to open a portal to the Rock of Eternity. And luckily, it did just that as she went on with a rapid explanation for her actions.

"You know how Eugene has been mapping the place out? Well, I've been helping him. Mainly making sure he doesn't get lost, but also because I've been studying it all. Making sure we know that everything that's in there is actually safe."

They wandered past the main part of the lair, the area where everything had been decorated freely and most obviously lived in, to the more labrynth-like parts that always confused Billy and Darla whenever they tried their own hands at exploring. But this time, Mary was there to lead him, having a clear sense of direction seeking out whatever it was she was searching for.

"We came across this space or...cave or something. Like a mine, y'know? And at first, I wasn't sure what was in it. Neither of us were, I mean, I couldn't find any of them in any books or articles. It's like... all the gems that are in that cave aren't from here or something. From another world."

"Mary, this really is some interesting stuff, but I don't get wh- woah..."

Billy's rambles were cut short, the two siblings having stopped in front of the very cavern Mary described. The entrance was glowing due to all of the luminous crystals buried off inside of it. Hell, the cave itself seemed neverending, branching off into different routes, holes, and other tunnel systems that were surely easy to get lost in.

Luckily, they didn't need to go too far in, Mary stopping Billy from doing so with the tug of his arm back closer to her person. She was slightly bent over, hovering above a large chunk of what he assumed to be an emerald. Practically matching the color of his eyes, they both sparkled at one another while Mary began to confess her opinions.

"I can't believe I hadn't thought of it before, but if my assumption is correct...if these are otherworldly artifacts...then I don't know what else this could be, other than-"

"Kryptonite..." Billy finished, turning towards his sister with an ecstatic grin. "Mary, you genius, you! Here, c'mon, help me get this stuff out of the wall...!"

──────────── •⚡️• ────────────

"Where the hell is Mary with that Kryptonite...?!" Freddy whined in an almost sing-song tone, blasting a continuous bolt of lightning directly at Bizzaro. It had no effect, merely slowing him down by a second until Darla, Pedro, and Eugene all joined in. And though it didn't hurt him, he was stuck in his tracks, trying his hardest to deflect it.

"She said she had an idea...!" Darla grunted. "But I dunno' what! She just took Billy back to the lair and- AAH!!"

Bizzaro had used all of his strength to blast the lightning back, sending the group soaring backward at the impact. As he began to stalk closer towards Darla, Eugene was quick to jump in the way with a protective, "No!" leaving his lips.

A bolt of lighting shot from his hands, Bizzaro quick to blast it with-

"Freeze...eyes...?"

The beam of icy blue turned Eugene's lighting into a solid rod of frozen air, the large block dropping to the ground and shattering beneath their feet. Freddy had... never seen a power like that before. It confused him, all of them, long enough to be a stall as Bizzaro quickly let off another beam towards them.

"Watch out...!!" Anthea warned, quickly hopping in the way with her hands out. Her palms glowed, swirling with golden power until the buildings and structures around them began to move and shift rapidly. Power of Axis, always a helpful tool in changing perspective, but not in changing the course of a blow to its intended target. Given the girl had learned this fact the hard way in the past, she was quick to turn to them in haste.

"We have to move, hurry! If we don't, we'll still get hit!"

Almost as if on cue, they watched the blast of ice cold vision barrelled towards them through a park, just barely missing all of the different play structures as the group swiftly managed to fly off in different directions. Freddy was sure to take Anthea in his arms, watching as the beam instead left a jungle gym frozen solid into a dome.

"Guys...!!"

Looking towards the voice, they were happy to spot Mary and Billy flying back towards them with a glowing, green gem in hand.

"No way-No way-No way!!" Freddy gushed as they approached, showing it off with pride. "You two actually found Kryptonite?! Do you know how rare this is?! Like, it's literally thought to be a myth, like, it's more believable than your imaginary girlfriend...!"

"Oh my god..." Billy groaned as the rest giggled. "C'mon, man, it's been like a week!"

"I'm being totally serious!" Freddy held his hands up as though he were giving surrender while Billy shook his head in dismay.

Mary sighed, floating in between the two boys with the gem in hand.

"Not the time, guys. Look, if we can keep Bizzaro distracted for just a little longer, this should definitely do the trick. We got this."

She held out her fist towards Billy, sending him a sure smile.

"You ready?"

"Yeah," he nodded, giving a smirk of his own before scanning the land beneath for their foe. He bumped her fist back. "Let's kick this dude's ass."

──────────── •⚡️• ────────────

"Dude, we're getting our asses kicked...!!" Eugene grunted, struggling to pick himself up from the ground as he clutched his side.

"It's like he's more powerful than before!" Anthea alluded, wiping the blood from her lip as she helped Mary from the ground and onto her shoulder.

"I don't... understand..." She coughed, grateful for the support as she looked up to her two brothers, trying their best to subdue Bizzaro hand-to-hand.

"The Kryptonite should be working. It should...be making him weaker."

"Maybe it isn't what you thought it was..." Darla whimpered, sending her sister a look of vanquish.

Billy watched as Bizzaro landed a blow onto Freddy's chest, the man in blue being sent flying back into the earth with a loud yelp and a crash. He wanted to call for him but reminded himself to focus on the battle at hand if there would be any chance of defeat. Even if he was scared, as much as he didn't want to admit it.

You'd be scared, too, if some weird copy of Superman was hurdling towards you, Kryptonite wedged into his bleeding shoulder (blue blood, which was quite jarring when they first stabbed him) with some obtuse goal to destroy the world he deemed "lesser" than his own.

Because of this, he'd frozen up, unsure of how to counter his speed let alone his attack. Instead, he took it like a champ, as he had many punches even before he was a superhero, and went hurdling towards the ground just as Freddy had.

"Oh. Hey, man..." Freddy groaned when his brother appeared next to him.

"Having fun, yet?" Billy haphazardly joked, referring to Freddy's "love" and "enjoyment" for his "superhero duties."

"Oh, yeah, loads." He nodded unconvincingly, wiping the blood from his nose with his arm. "I love the smell of iron in the morning. And, y'know- the sounds of terror and destruction really just...pull it all together."

They helped each other up, checking themselves for any fatal injuries. And, when they found none, regrouped with the rest of their family in doldrums as they watched Bizzaro inflict his reign of dismantling on the city.

"What're we gonna do?" Darla asked, looking to her brother in worry.

"Your realm is not capable of destroying power such as this. How are we to do the same?"

Anthea's words had been directed towards Freddy but left Billy's mind swirling instead. Was she right? She had to be...

If the Champions of Magic and an entire goddess couldn't decide the fate of their opponents on the battlefield, who could?

. . .

Their heads whipped up at the sound of a furious battle cry, a shimmer of gold and the quick blur of your (H/C) locks barreling towards the enemy. Your sword drawn and in position to leave its target slain as you attacked from above, a ferocious look on your face for none other than the mockery of hope and justice below you.

When your weapon made contact, you knew better than to think it'd actually cut through Bizarro. But, it did send him hurdling towards the dirt as he had Freddy and Billy moments earlier. You had cut a large chunk of the green Kryptonite from his shoulder, dimming him back to his normal level of powerful abilities. And yet, you knew this wasn't the end, much more work to be done as you announced your threat.

"My mother and her colleagues have defeated you once, and you dare to return to this world and cause its people pain and anguish once again?!" Your booming scolds might've reminded someone that of a parent, pointing your sword below you at Bizzaro's stunned figure.

"How dare you have such audacity?! Let it be known I will not allow you to do so, and you will now fall by my hand, even if it kills me!"

"Valkyrie?!" - "(Y/N)?!"

Both of your aliases spoken into the air at the same time, yet it was Billy who wanted to slap himself after being the only one to have said your real name rather than your well-known, hero one. He even tried to ignore the looks his siblings (and Anthea) gave him, pure shock just oozing from their figures.

"That's (Y/N)?!" Mary shouted in bafflement.

"She's real?!" Freddy's tone of incredulity made Billy's eyes roll for a split second.

Not alloted any time for anyone to question or answer further, your head whipped back, you're firey (E/C) eyes glaring deeply into Billy's.

"You...!" You bellowed menacingly, and suddenly, he was a lot less excited to see you.

"Wha-?! Are you-? Oh...my gosh, are you mad at me right now?..."

From a bystander's point of view, it definitely looked a little silly, your shorter and younger appearing figure stomping towards this grown adult man, who was fearfully stumbling back away from you as you approached with anger. His face was dowsed in fear, and yours?

Where to begin...

"I leave you on your lonesome to protect your people for a week! A week! And this is what I'm fated to return to?! Do you even know what it is you've done allowing him to remain in such close proximity to green Kryptonite?!"

"I- Uh...Well, technically, it wasn't even really my idea, 'cause-"

"William."

You seethed his full name, cutting off his excuses, which consisted of throwing his older sister under the bus. She thanked whatever God above for that one, not even having been in your presence for a mere two minutes, and was terrified of your wrath.

The groan of Bizzaro rising from the dirt stopped the rest of your reprimands, leaving you the sigh in simple vexation before pointing a finger at your incautious lover.

"I will deal with you later."

A silence passed over as you leaped into action, everyone still left a bit shaken at everything you had to offer so far. Including Billy, even though all he could muster up was a quiet, "I told you she was real..."

"That's your girlfriend?!" Freddy nearly exploded. "Valkyrie is your girlfriend?! Dude, I-...! You-! You do know she's Wonder Woman's whole ass daughter, right?! How the fu-?!"

"-Clearly...!" Mary interrupted loudly before he could heavily cuss around Darla. "He's got a type!"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, whatever!" Billy exclaimed, already beginning to hover above the ground in hopes to aid his girlfriend. "It doesn't matter right now. We have to help her, c'mon!"

It was once Anthea and the Champions joined the fight, Bizzaro was left with a slim chance of winning. Especially without the enhancement of that same green jewel that always seemed to leave Superman weakened and withered. Mary was still lost on such fact, and Freddy was searching his mind for any possibility of how that could be so.

"I don't get it!" He finally wailed, exhausted from the fight and from using his brain overtime. "He's just like Superman, almost...! If he's such a copy, then how come none of our plans are working?!"

"That is because he is not a copy." You stated plainly, no evidence of normalcy left in your voice. What was left was that of a warrior. A warrior thick in the ways of battle and strategy, knowing your enemy much more than your allies seemed to.

"He is a mirror. Bizzaro, El-Kal, is from a twisted world he created. Everything there, including himself, is some backwards nuisance of what we're so used to here on our planet."

"Hold...Hold'up..." Eugene paused, unable to believe the information being told to him. "This guy's is from another planet just like ours?"

"Yes and no. His world resembles ours, but it is not. It is cubed shaped and docile, with a blue sun that amplifies El-Kal's strength. Much like how this earth's yellow sun aids Superman's. Kal-El."

"Ohh, ha, that's funny, I get it." Freddy chuckled. "It's all backwards over there, so Kal-El is...yeah, that's...that's bad..."

"Well," you smirked, the first and only hint of positivity you had exuded from your person since you had arrived. "Not all bad."

From the latchel which normally held your Lasso of Truth (well, a more miniature one, technically, because your mother wouldn't dare give up her own), was a medium-sized vile of blue liquid clipped in its place. You unhooked it carefully, showing it off to the group as your smirk stretched into a satisfied grin.

"What are the great and powerful without their weaknesses? Blue Kryptonite, liquefied. When I first arrived home this morning, I had seen the news. Trouble here in the heart of Philidelphia, and I immediately recognized that... that..."

"That dumbass question mark on his chest?" Billy spoke up for you. In much more vulgar terms, sure, but you couldn't help but agree with an admitting nod.

"Yes, precisely. I knew what he was capable of, and I knew that you all more than likely didn't have the proper contingencies to stop him. So, I asked Damian for a favor..."

Freddy leaned in towards Billy, putting a hand up as if it'd conceal his bad whispers.

"Who's Damian?"

"Don't worry about it." Billy ignored, slapping him away lightly as you finished.

"...With this, we will surely defeat Bizarro. I can detain him, and I will convince him to leave this world in peace once again."

You opened the vile, neon blue smoke immediately pouring from it like dry-freeze until you began to dump some of the contents onto the blade of your sword.

"All I need for you all to do, is keep him busy. Until then, hold out your hands..."

They all did as told, watching as the rest of the liquid went dumped into their palms while you explained such actions.

"Should any of you come into physical combat with him, your touch will now weaken him, leaving him vulnerable. Easier to take down."

"And what about you?" Billy asked, his tone laced with worry for your well-being. Your gaze softened as you moved closer, hardly used to having to look up at him. But, you could admit, you found it a nice change of pace as you reached up to hold his face in your palm.

"I will do what I have to. Don't worry about me, okay?"

"That's literally impossible, but okay."

You chuckled.

"Fair. Your only job is to make sure all goes well. And... don't make anymore 'dumbass' decisions. You keep that green Kryptonite away from Bizzaro."

Billy nodded, laughing at your use of his improper language before floating upwards to complete his task.

"Alright, guys...!" He called down, his siblings following in suite while you motioned Anthea to remain with you at ground levels.

"Let's kick this guy's ass. For real this time, though."

──────────── •⚡️• ────────────

"Who is that?!" Rosa shouted as she stared at her TV in horror, scared for her superhero children tackling the evil Superman imposter with some random girl who had just shown up, as any mother would be.

Almost as soon as Victor moved to grab the keys for his van, the front door opened and in waltzed their children. Like ducks in a row, Mary, Pedro, Eugene, Darla, Freddy, Anthea, Billy, and-... ??

"Hi, mom!"

"Hey, Ma!"

"Hi, Mommy!"

"'Sup, Dad?"

The choruses of their greetings eased their nerves and tensions, but the sight of a new girl with glasses and her hair in a fancy, braided updo took them by surprise. She remained close to Billy, seemingly glued to his arm as he quietly attempted to convince her of the kind nature of his parents.

"Are you sure? I don't want to impose if it's trouble..."

"(Y/N), don't worry. They've been wanting to meet you for forever, you have nothing to worry about. They'll love you."

You looked towards him in surprise, already growing more anxious by the second.

"You told them about me?"

"Only the important stuff." He winked jokingly.

"Ah! My babies...!" Rosa shouted her greeting, more grateful than ever that they had returned safely, running over and planting a kiss on each one of their foreheads and pulling Darla and Anthea into bone crushing hugs.

So...! Uh," Victor started, already interested in your figure remaining quiet by the door. "Who's the new girl?"

Billy smiled this time, neither embarrassed nor annoyed by the inquiry of you while he proudly pulled your body into his by the waist.

"She's-"

"She's the coolest, ever!" Freddy announced, Darla practically jumping up and down as she agreed.

"Uh huh! And she's so pretty, just like I knew she'd be!"

"She literally sent that supervillain back to where he came from...! Like, without even breaking a sweat!" Eugene praised, leaving your cheeks to grow red with bashfulness.

"I have to admit, I think she'd be a good influence on Billy. She's super smart."

"And a good fighter."

Mary and Anthea were happy to admit such facts, Pedro the last to give a reserved shrug and a polite smile.

"I like her. She's dope."

Rosa and Victor were left to stand awkwardly, unsure of what to make of all the high-end words being spewed about like lightning while you struggled to fight back your grin.

"As I was saying...!" Billy exclaimed, giving his siblings the "Shut Up So I Can Talk" look. "This is (Y/N). My girlfriend."

Victor was the first to happily greet you, explaining how he'd heard so much about you, all good things (as you could clearly see), and that he was happy to have finally met you. Rosa, on the other hand, was leaned back with her eyes glued to the news on the TV. They would flicker back to you every now and again, making your heart beat faster in nerves until...

"Crazy question, I know... but...that doesn't happen to be you on the news... yeah?"

Immediately, you looked towards Billy, who could only shrug and scratch the back of his neck.

"The important stuff, huh?"

"Sorry...I tried..."

You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose before giving a polite nod and announcing your introduction one final time...

"Yes, that... would be me. My name is (Y/N), otherwise known as Valkyrie. Daughter of Wonder Woman, Granddaughter of Zeus, and last born... of Themyscria."

Don't make me steal this idea and write a full-fledged book, Anon, I'll do it🤨 (I probably won't cuz writer's block likes to eat me alive). But seriously, I really hope you like this because again, I adore this, and I defo want more of your ideas/scenarios🥰🫶🏽.

~ Star✨️

Back to Master List

[aria-ashryver]

It's a totally random ask, I just checked the time and thought you're probably in the hospital rn, and then I realised it's been a while since you updated us on pretty nurses situation 💅🏼

(anyone cuter than Vidya perhaps? 👀)

🩺Aria's Top Ten Nurses 🏥

because sitting in the hospital for hours on end is boring so we make dumb little lists to pass the time which you absolutely do not have to read lol

(cw: theres a photo of an IV line in my arm under the cut)

#10 - Gary (vascular access technician)

ultimate gruff old dad. excellent banter. always tells me to keep out of trouble when he's done setting my lines. finger guns for days. he's only coming in 10th bc he tried to convince me to get a permanent line fitted and the concept of that terrifies me (hence why i have instead opted for over a hundred individual injections to date)

#9 - Cincy (chemo ward nurse)

incredibly soft spoken. shy to the point of painful. apologises for everything. she was there on the day of the pincushion tally high score, and even though my veins have recovered a lot since then, she always has a look of fear in her eyes when she goes to set my lines. I'm sorry Cincy, please stop being so scared of me.

#8 - Olivia (chemo ward nurse)

peak tsundere ice queen. super pretty. magically long black hair. has never smiled in her life. pretty sure she secretly enjoys inflicting pain on people, because she always sets the cannula in my cephalic vein (beneath the thumb on the side of the wrist) to "give my dorsal arch veins some time to recover" and HOLY FUCK THEY HURT. one time she laughed* at one of my jokes and it was the best day of my life.

*it was a begrudging huff of air through her nose and then she rolled her eyes, but it counts dammit.

#7 - Claire (clinic nurse)

tiny Irish lady. always got too much on her plate. why does she run everywhere. always makes me giggle when she does my obs and pre-checks bc my meds sound funny when you say them with an Irish accent. Claire please sit down for like 10 minutes, i beg, you're making me tired.

#6 - Kelly (chemo ward nurse)

only been my nurse once or twice, but i do remember that one time she laughed so hard at one of my jokes that she started choking and had to excuse herself, and the resultant ego boost has shot her up to place #6 on this list

#5 - Warren (vascular access technician)

OMFG Warren you pretty motherfucker. why are so many of these nurses in their late twenties/early thirties and ludicrously hot? this guy looked at me with his big brown eyes and soothing voice, held my hand while he applied some anaesthetic and told me "that's it, good, you're doing so well love". Warren how do you expect me not to fall in love with you??? that is EXACTLY how Vidya got me

#4 - Jax (chemo ward nurse)

i met them on their first day in the chemo ward. they were just supposed to be observing that day -- unfortunately what they observed was the pincushion tally high score. Sorry Jax.

(i.e. they witnessed Cincy and Farah puncturing the ever loving fuck out of my every available vein, failing to set line after line, apologising to me profusely over the course of like half an hour, and then the vascular access team coming in to rescue us all and set my line via ultrasound instead.)

that was a fun one lol.

#3 - Vidya (chemo ward nurse)

the one, the only, my actual wife!!!! 💖🌈 im half convinced she was the product of a fever dream, because one: how is this woman both fucking gorgeous and SO sweet and caring? and two: her shifts have changed and i barely see her these days. Come back Vidya i miss you 😭😭😭

#2 - Farah (chemo ward nurse)

another super pretty nurse! was delighted when i told her tumblr was still a thing. unironically says "slay" and "omg yass!". compliments my outfits without fail every time i go in for treatments. got extremely excited the first time she set a canula in one go after the pincushion tally high score debacle, and then told me "damn girl, you traumatised me that day" lol. Sorry Farah

#1 - Tori (chemo ward nurse)

Tori is my BRO. our banter game is excellent. (she's also super pretty lol). always tells me when there is good shit in the fridge. been my nurse so often that she just feels like a pal. sneaks into the admin office to make sure my appointments are at lunchtime or later (instead of like 8am) whenever she can. once told me it was her opinion as a medical professional that i should treat myself to bubble tea and ice cream.

Congrats Tori, you win the nurse rankings and my entire heart forever!! 💖💖💖

(but so does Vidya bc I am a fucking simp for that woman lbr)

[sugarysweetstockingchanxoxo]

I'M SOOOSOSOSOO EXCITEDDDDD THAT NEW PSG TRAILER MADE ME SO HYPED I STILL CAN'T BELIEVE IT ABAHAHA OUR GIRLS ARE BACK!!!; It looks like they're keeping the plotline of Stocking being a demon unless they're going to troll us and just reset everything, I really hope Mariya Ise and Arisa Ogasawara return to voice the girls in the original Japanese!! Monica Rial and Jamie Marchi already confirmed on Twitter they'd be on board to dub the girls again so fingers crossed!! Even TeddyLoid confirmed he'd be back on the team a year ago when the second season was first announced. Aaaa I still can't believe it it all feels like a dream 💜💜💜💛💛💛 here's hoping the second season lives up to the hype and is amazing just like the first!!! I've got super high hopes for once! Also that new Panty & Stocking merch is going to make me go broke, really hope I can buy it when it drops as I wasn't able to buy any of the older merch 🙏

AAA FIRST OFF THANK YOU ANON FOR ANNOUNCING THERE WAS A TRAILER TO ME (I've been very busy irl and with other things so I haven't been able to search the paswg tag) ! ! !

ALSO, I CAN'T BELIEVE THAT THE BITCHES ARE BACK EITHER!!!😭😭😭 IT'S BEEN SO LONG! VERY EXCITED TO SEE THEM AGAIN!! Also, with how the trailer played, I too can't tell if the Stocking being a demon plotline is going to be taken seriously or played off as a joke. I'm fine with either tbh since either choice would fit the show.

OMG IT'S SOOO COOL TO HEAR THAT THE OG English voice actresses for Panty and Stocking will be returning for this S2 project.

Also, TEDDYLOID COMING BACK IS HYPE! The S1 tracks are so 👌🔥👌🔥.

Even though I, personally, like the English Dub more than the Japanese one, I'm hoping for the Japanese actresses to return as well since they did a spectacular job voicing the girls.

I hope Season 2 is just as good as Season 1 as well and that we get new merch!💖💛💜

[oceaneyesinla]

oops i did it again i ran out of tags pls read those then read this! (this might end up longer than the last one i apologise in advance)💖

the DING of the BELL reminds her of him 🥺 i love them 🥺

'you'd be lying if you said you haven't enjoyed seeing the world in technicolour again' BANGER after BANGER after BANGER line! i know i said it before but you're getting her feelings across SO WELL

yes girl go treat yourself you deserve it

there is something special about existing in a city, even when you know it's a little rough around the edges (okay my city is NOT THIS BAD but it has a bit of a reputation ya know but i love it anyway)

i love the way you write about the city and how they feel about it - she knows its dangerous and it's shit but there's some kind of deep seated attachment nevertheless, even if it's to nothing more than the memories of what was

MITSURI MY SWEET ANGEL BABY GIRL

her voice is scratchy from lack of use 🥺 oh sweet girl

she does still have a sense of humour about the situation though, good for you girlie

oh i know who this BITCH IS STAY AWAY FROM HER BITCH BOY

run girl run he's a bitch and he sucks

omg did i SAY you could touch her bitch boy?!?!??! girl you are right to run and evade and dodge he is bad news

not wanting to cut ties completely with her parents just so SOMEONE confirms she's alive 😭

oh this girl is going THROUGH it rn

yes sanemi please acknowledge that your brother figured this out before you, he's a good boy and not a dummy like u

'given your responses to his bullshit in the past, assault and battery are very real possibilities' I LOVE THEM honestly boy she deserves to hit you with a book just a little .... gently .... as a treat

oh sanemi she won't leave you any more than you could leave her

OH NO sanemi bby he assumes the worst but her phone is just in her couch bc of him

HE WOULD TEAR THE CITY APART FOR HER!!!!! oh i feel awful for him bc he's so scared for her but also protective devoted sanemi do be looking good 👀

HIS YOU?!?!??!?! screaming, actually screaming i've read this twice now and this line IS STILL GETTING ME

he hasn't seen her in over a week (since he did a fuck and run!!!) and this is how he greets her

also i love that she's just following him around smacking him while he checks the place out they're both such idiots i adore them

this whole mini argument is so funny she just calls him a stupid 😂 the drama of them honestly

he nearly breaks down her door, takes her keys and LEAVES boy you are a chaotic mess you didn't even EXPLAIN anything indignant spluttering is the LEAST you deserve

he went to buy snacks and period stuff for her 🥺 oh he is down so bad at this point she could ask him to bark and he would 100% he would be sassy about it but he would do it

he accurately predicted shit being thrown at him 😂 he knows her so well - the visual image of this scene is SO FUNNY

i said it before and i'll say it again - being a shit is one of his love languages!

i adore this scene so much - it fits their dynamic SO MUCH - there's so many feelings at play but underneath it all they just want each other - it's absolutely MASTERFUL

the KEY oh he loves her so much THEY LOVE EACH OTHER SO MUCH

he sees her for everything she is and LOVES HER ANYWAY HE CAME BACK

closing his hand around the key - 'i'm yours' !!!!!!! 😭

'it was inevitable' YES THEY ARE DESTINED TO BE TOGETHER

and of course they're right back to sassing each other

'you can't help but nuzzle into his palm' i will cry i stg 😭

cocky confident sanemi my beloved 🫶🏻

i would also be worrying about the oven, what if the pizza burns????

he was willing to let the oven set itself on fire but not willing to let her go hungry ?????? 🥺 HE LOVES HER

the CUDDLING, the AFFECTION .... YOUR sanemi !!!!!!

'you're his woman now, after all; that means it's on him to take care of business' OH MY GOD I THINK I JUST PASSED OUT hdjowodfjejjd

oh fuck the hand over the mouth, the confidence !!!!!!!

uM making her hold her shirt between her teeth?!?!?!?!?!??!?!?

he's SO FOCUSED on making sure she's comfortable 🥺

'you're drawing him in like a magnet, your body his North Star' something something magnetic north, something something COMPASS oh god the symbolism i'm in LOVE

'it's you. it has always been you' my HEART

'you ain't gotta do a thing but take it' 😳 i would say something but it is not appropriate for polite company AT ALL just know i will be thinking about this for WEEKS

the praise THE PRAISE the possessiveness i might pass out

i adore that he blurts out everything when he's balls deep does her 😺 produce truth serum or does his brain just short out ???

he's so GENTLE with her like yeah he's fucking her hard and fast but he's so focused on her and her pleasure and her comfort truly she is the centre of his universe they've always been orbiting each other they were destined to crash together like this

the WAY he talks her through it

the brand - he likes her touching it because he can pretend just for a moment that he can escape, that the only brand he has is the one she's leaving with her touch - that the only brand that matters is the one she's left on his heart

their banter is everything to me (and also sanemi being a freaky lil horndog)

'under the beast's mask lies the endless beauty that makes up Sanemi Shinazugawa' this line is beautiful and this metaphor is incredible and *incoherent squeaking*

their intimacy is everything - their love is so earnest and genuine, they're just two people and they've got so many hang ups and issues and traumas and problems but they love each other BECAUSE of all that

oh her not knowing if anyone would notice if she disappeared i have some experience with this and you have got it across SO WELL you have absolutely nailed it in every imaginable way

'home is wherever you are' i have arbitrarily decided that Where I Want To Be is compass sanemi's song in my head

oh boy here it is! i'm pretty sure this is longer than the last one and about as coherent (i.e not at all)

this chapter was INCREDIBLE and i am so excited to see what comes next for them! this world you're building is so rich and intriguing and i am so proud and happy and grateful that i get to call someone so talented my friend!

COMPASS / CHAPTER 3

bad boy! Sanemi x Reader ✦ gang AU

A/N: eat up, loves. Enjoy the filth and domestic bliss of this chapter now, because we’re right back to the seedy violence of the Corps in Chapter 4.

CW: explicit sexual content • MDNI • period sex • grinding • lots of tit play • brief cervix fucking • creampie • Sanemi is a certified yapper in bed • light angst • humor • two idiots helplessly in love • mentions of a gun • mentions of gang violence • bookshop AU • gang AU

MASTERLIST HERE

COMPASS – CHAPTER 3 

It’s hard to notice the way time stops when you aren’t paying attention to it; when you have no reason to bother. 

Life hasn’t always been this way – lonely. In fact, your upbringing had been on the cushier side of comfortable, and you’d thought you’d been surrounded by love, from both family and friends alike. High school hadn’t been any different, You’d had a social circle, you’d been involved in extracurriculars, and you had a good relationship with your parents and siblings. 

Or, so you’d believed. Because then you graduated and everyone moved on while you were left  behind. 

That was when time stopped. 

Not literally, of course. Birthdays came and went, as did Christmas. Your hair changed, and so did your living arrangements. Six weeks after you graduated, you moved out of your parents’ place into your current apartment, and enrolled in the local university. Your siblings continued growing up and apart, each making their way through school and setting out on their own. At the time, it felt natural. They each had their own lives, as you did, so you hadn’t paid it much mind. 

That’s the tricky thing about it; it wasn’t something that happened all at once. It was slow, a trickle of sand in an hourglass you didn’t know had been turned. Only when the last grain fell did you realize the clock had been running at all, and by that point, it was too late. 

It started as an exodus of sorts from the city, right after graduation. Leaving home behind in search of greener pasteurs elsewhere wasn’t uncommon, so it hadn’t seemed all that surprising that communications with those you’d once called your friends, dwindled. But then, those who left never came back, even to visit, and the few who did never lingered for long. 

Had there been signs that the cancer was spreading? It’s hard to remember. Violence and crime has always been a party of life in the City, just as it is in any metropolitan area. The adults in your life always claimed such things were contained, an epidemic confined to the Silo and its poverty. As though the destitution of the neighborhood was somehow justified, a punishment befitting of those who had the misfortune of being born on the wrong side of a junkyard. 

Growing up, you’d eavesdropped on more than your fair share of adult conversations. At least, enough so to know that income lines did not curb misdeeds; it only changed them, gave them modifiers like white collar and organized, as though somehow that softened the brutal reality. As though the covert whispers behind the hands of adults at school functions or neighborhood gatherings whenever a family came into a sudden abundance of wealth or someone sported an injury they couldn’t explain, changed anything at all. 

If the crime in the Silo was the pot, then the crime bubbling under the sruface of neat shrubs and cobbled streets in your area of town had been the kettle. And the Corps had its hand in both. 

In hindsight, you often find yourself wondering whether your former friends had simply been lucky to get out before the empire began to crumble, or whether they’d simply seen writing on a wall you hadn’t known to read. Because once the turf wars between rival gangs began to escalate and spill over from their confinement in the Silo, those visits from friends fizzled out all together, and you never heard another word. Not from any of them. 

Your family, apparently, also had sensed whatever metamorphosis lingered on the City’s horizon, even if they hadn’t bothered to warn you, too. Once your youngest sister set off for university in a distant town – the very one who’d brought Sanemi to your family’s stoop that day, years ago – your parents swiftly packed up the townhouse you’d grown up in and put it on the market. 

They only told you they were moving after the place sold. 

They didn’t offer to take you with them, and you didn’t bother to ask. You didn’t even have their mailing address until that Christmas, when a festive little card arrived in the mail, bearing only Season’s Greetings from Mom and Dad.

Sure, maybe you’d realized a hair too late that you were only a transient presence in the lives of those you’d once considered friends, but the relegation to the background of your own family’s portrait had stung. Not important enough to be remembered, but too significant to forget. 

You tried, for a while, but it hurt even more that they never bothered to check in. After the second birthday without so much as a card or a phonecall, you stopped altogether. 

Alone, with nothing but a semi-failing bookstore to keep you busy, you quickly faded into the skyline of the city you’d once loved. And even it couldn’t keep itself from rotting. You tried not to resent it; decay, at least, still meant change. You just remained stuck. Frozen. 

When monotony is your only companion, it doesn’t take long to lose the senses that risk breaking it up. After a while, your eyes learned to stop seeing. Sounds folded together and became muffled, fading to little more than a single, dull buzz humming in ears that forgot how to pick out the chirping of morning birds or the incessant honking accompanying morning rush hour. 

Some days, you wondered whether you might be a ghost; others, you had to convince yourself you weren’t. 

And then he came along. 

———

“Come again!” 

Your farewell falls well short of the customer already halfway down the street, instead smacking right into the wood of the door as it slams shut behind him.

Sighing, you slouch against the top of your counter, your fist propped underneath your cheek. Great. Of course the first customer finally to grace your store after a whole day’s worth of nothing ended up being as dull as the hours you’ve spent bored behind the cash register. From the moment he’d stepped inside, he’d barely acknowledged your existence. Your helpful inquiries into whether he was looking for anything in particular, or how his day was going as you rang him up when unanswered, save an odd chuff.

And so, out the door goes your first brush with human contact in several days. Pathetic, but even more so when you consider how long it might be until you saw another person again. The hours spent laboring at the store didn’t offer much in the way of free time, and you don’t really have a social life capable of filling in the gaps, anyways.

Well, maybe you did. You had, up until a few days ago, at least. Whether that is still true now, however, isn’t something you’re particularly interested in unpacking. 

Thus, you’re left alone. Again.

Disheartened, your head slumps against your arm. You could always go back to your novel. It’s a crime fantasy; a latest release from an author you’d gotten into a few weeks earlier, the first book snagged off the shelf right before you closed up for the night. Rolling your head to the side, you eye the book, face down on the other end of the counter.

You scrunch your nose before rolling your head back the other direction, ignoring the book. Reading is the last thing you feel like doing right now, considering it’s all you’ve been doing. Once, you would’ve been thrilled at the prospect of having an entire day to spend behind the counter, flipping through a novel or two, completely undisturbed by the ringing of the store’s bell. But that was before you’d grown accustomed to a certain impish, foul-mouthed gang member who enjoyed hanging around the bookstore almost as much as he relished being a pain in your ass.

What you wouldn’t give to hear a snarky comment or scoff from him, now. 

Without Sanemi loitering around, a disquieting stillness has settled around the store. The distant howl of police sirens almost feels welcome, if nothing more than for how it breaks up the nearly suffocating silence of the store. 

Maybe it’s time to harass your boss about store advertising again. If you have to endure another week of silence this loud, you might just shove your head through the wall.

Realistically, you only have to tough out the summer slump for another month or so. Foot-traffic tended to pick up in the last weeks of August, when grouchy parents dragged in their children to buy the listed assigned reading books conveniently forgotten until the dwindling days leading into a new school year. And even once the back to school rush finally subsisted, you only had a few weeks to catch up on all the cataloging and ordering you’d missed fielding pissy parents before the holiday season began. As though the sudden shortage of certain titles was your fault, and not the consequence of their snot-nosed kids’ procrastination. 

But August is still weeks away. June has barely settled, the summer heat only just beginning to ramp up. The days have already become unbearably warm, the only relief coming at night, but even that would soon come to an end. Before long, everything would be intolerable — the weather, the silence, the lack of anything and everything that had made life for the last year enjoyable.

You crane your neck around to squint at the old-fashioned clock hanging beside the front door. It’s only half-past four, and the store doesn’t close until eight. 

Groaning, you thud your head against the counter. Three and a half more hours to go. 

You could scroll endlessly on your phone, but that would require looking at it, and that would be pointless. You know there are no missed calls; no texts, no pictures of a recent read with a scarred hand giving a thumbs-up or thumbs-down. If you look at it, you know you’ll see nothing and you will still be disappointed. Might as well save yourself the trouble, even if you can no longer avoid acknowledging the root cause of your terrible mood.

What a stupid asshole he is. What a stupid, idiotic, moronic asshole. 

When Sanemi Shinazugawa first exploded into your store last summer, you’d known you’d have to contend with a number of possible consequences as a result of getting involved. There’d been the obvious: the potential for arrest as his co-conspirator, for example, despite having not seen him in the three years following high school graduation. You’d devoted plenty of hours at the store reading crime novels, enough to know the police weren’t particularly careful about who got caught in their crosshairs. It would be almost too easy to deem you guilty by mere proximity to the scowling criminal you’d stuffed under your counter, even if the only association you’d ever had with him had been a decade earlier, when he’d been playing hero. 

Of course, that outcome hadn’t been the only slot on your bingo card, and once you’d pulled off your little stunt of hiding him away, you’d been forced to consider other options. Perhaps he would demand free pick of your store’s inventory with the same casual arrogance he’d had striding out that day, book in his hand and not a damn dollar paid for it. Maybe he’d want your shabby bookstore to become a front for whatever nefarious dealings he did on behalf of the Corps. 

As time went on, the fallout options from your budding friendship with Sanemi began to evolve. The closer you grew to him, the more dismal the potential ending: maybe you’d end up seeing something you shouldn’t, and he’d have to cut you out to prevent any further harm. Hell, you’d even grappled with the very real possibility of getting tangled up in something you shouldn’t, only to disappear without a trace, right alongside him. 

Years spent in relative isolation meant you had an imagination that could outpace most others, so really, there was no shortage of possibilities that getting involved with Sanemi Shinazugawa might entail. It was pragmatic, on your end. Know what to expect and that way, you wouldn’t be caught off guard in the event whatever you had with him ended in a blaze of glory. Or gunfire. 

As wild as your imagination could get, not one damn time had it accounted for you falling in love with the stupid asshole. And yet, here you are, just as much an idiot as he is, but with nothing to show for it. 

Not entirely true, you think with a small snort as you start up the store’s computer, clicking through a catalogue of upcoming releases eligible for the next shipment. He’d left you that morning with a dozen knots in your hair and a soreness between your legs that lingered for a few days afterward, even when he didn’t. Now, here you are, six days out from Sanemi taking your virginity, and you haven’t heard a god damn word from him. 

Not that you’re bitter about it. 

As you scroll through the website of the store’s main distributor, one title manages to catch your eye. It’s newer, but it’s only you’d already stocked a few days earlier, having reserved a handful of copies the moment the publisher opened up preorders to smaller retailers. 

You’d created an alert on your phone for that very reason, one set to go off the second the order window opened, so you could be sure the early releases arrived as quickly as possible. All because of a certain, low-life felon and his fat mouth. 

Whaddya mean I gotta wait another four months ‘til the next one? Sanemi had whined, tossing his book onto your counter. It was the third installment in a fantasy series you’d turned him onto, and he’d rapidly devoured it with the same veracity as he’d had the other two. That’s bullshit.

That’s publishing, you’d snipped back, shoving his arms off the freshly wiped-down surface of the store counter. 

Undeterred by your roughness, Sanemi only winked and re-settled himself, a preening smirk tugging at his lips as he plopped his elbow right back where you didn’t want it. Guess you’ll have to think of somethin’ else to occupy me with, Princess. 

Oh? You leveled that insufferable smugness with a sly grin of your own. What do you suggest? 

You got brains that match all that beauty. ‘M sure you’ll come up with something. He’d replied, tapping your nose with your finger, and snorting when you jerked away. 

In retrospect, the blatant flirting made you want to crawl under your counter and never emerge again. He’d been so damn obvious, and you’d eaten every bit of it up. Perhaps that’d been his plan all along, and you’d fallen for it, hook, line and sinker. 

It’s hard not to let insecurity gnaw at you but you’re only human, and your edges are becoming more jagged. 

You exit out of the web browser, unenthused. Nothing had particularly caught your eye, but then again, not much was capable of holding your attention, lately. Nothing, save the constant replay of that night and the next morning, and you’d picked that particular bone clean. There was nothing left to dissect, not even the marrow, but that didn’t stop you from returning to it, again and again. 

You roll your shoulders. The best thing you can do for yourself is to find a distraction. 

The back stock room sits full of new releases, and it’s been a few weeks since you updated the store’s colorful display of fresh titles. A bonus of having nearly total control over the bookstore is that you get to decide how displays are arranged, and it’s something you’ve grown to take pride in. With a sigh, you grab the circlet of keys from its peg beneath the store counter and head for store room. Might as well speed along the last two hours of the store’s operation, and give yourself something else to do that isn’t this – feeling hopelessly, pathetically sorry for yourself. 

Two trips between the back room and the store’s merry front later, and you set to work. At first, the chaos in your head is smoothed blissfully over as you focus on clearing the shelf of its its previous New Releases, stacking the books up in neat piles to be shelved in their proper sections later. But your concentration is weak, at best, and a task as tedious as this makes your mind go blank, leaves behind a clean slate upon which it can map out all your insecurities. 

Logically, it isn’t hard to imagine why Sanemi’s giving you the cold shoulder.  He made it obvious that night, when he tried putting on the airs of a big, scary monster he imagined himself to be, though you’d long since learned how to see right through the facade. Even if he’d made good on his empty threat to handle you roughly, he would’ve regretted it — so much so, you doubt he would’ve been able to keep the charade up through the end. Sanemi didn’t seem like the type who got off roughing up his partners.

Given how gentle he’d been in the hours that followed, it seemed you’d been proven right. If only he could realize it, too. Maybe then, he’d figure out how to get his head out of his ass. 

Sighing, you toss the last of the previous display’s books aside, and set to work on dusting down the shelves. The venom in your thoughts has less to do with your scar-speckled best friend and more to do with the bruise to your ego you’ve spent the last five days nursing. For all the ways Sanemi’s experience between the sheets greatly outpaces yours, it’s also limited. Affection wasn’t something he’d been known to give. In fact, you’d spent a fair deal of time wracking your brain, trying to remember whether you’d ever heard of him being in a relationship – as teens or otherwise – only to come up empty-handed. 

In this respect, at least, he’s no smarter than you are. Actually, he’s probably more of an idiot for it, given how he seems to lack the tact to send a basic courtesy text. A casual, hey, talk soon. 

Casual, you snort, as you begin restocking the New Arrivals section. Sanemi Shinazugawa might be better known for his casual dalliances, but nothing about what transpired between you had been casual. Not even fucking close. 

An hour passes, and you almost feel at ease, finally left alone by the constant whizz and whir of intrusive thoughts you know better than to indulge. You’re nearly finished with a row of new romance titles, when the title of one in particular snags your attention. 

Only Casual. A resounding fuck you from the universe if you’ve ever known one. You wouldn’t have been more surprised if the letters leapt off the book’s glossy front cover to smack you square in the nose. 

The longer you stare down at the title, the more doubt threatens to creep back in, lapping at the shore of your mind with its seductive hiss. Maybe you haven’t heard from him because you never will again. Maybe it was only casual. Because that’s Sanemi’s nature, and you’d given it up for someone who would never be capable of anything more than that. 

“Stop it,” you chide yourself, taken aback by your own venomous thoughts. That’s not him; at least, you’re almost certain it isn’t. Sanemi’s no-strings attached reputation had been well-known, and that has to mean he was transparent with his past partners about his intentions. If you truly were another notch in his belt, he would’ve said something, and he’d never struck you as the dishonest type. But Sanem’s persistent silence has bred a foreign sort of doubt in you that you haven’t quite figured out how to shake. “Where’s spiraling going to get you, stupid?” 

Casual wouldn’t have been Sanemi trying desperately to scare you away when you’d asked the most of him. It wouldn’t have made him insist – quietly, resignedly – that you deserved someone better than him. And somehow, you don’t think it was very casual for him to fuck you without protection or sleep naked with you in your bed. 

I love you, Sanemi. 

That certainly hadn’t been very casual, either, nor was the torturous look in his eyes that followed. The pain could very well have been born from a place of rejection, sure. Another punch to an already throbbing bruise because you were again crossing a line you’d already asked him to blur. That, despite the sheer possession embedded in every movement of his body and lips, he could not and would not love you back.

Books fully stocked, you turn your attention to the pile of titles that need to be assigned to their proper sections. Your eyes flick to the clock on the backwall, and with joy, you see that it’s already five-past closing. Satisfied, you flip the Open sign in the front window to Closed and turn the top lock on the door. The pile will have to wait until tomorrow morning. It’s time for you to get the hell out of this asylum. 

Closing time at the bookstore is a monotony you never mind, because it always means you’re leaving. You complete your tasks with ease, cashing out the register and taking the funds to the safe in the storeroom, to be picked up by the owner at the end of the week. 

As you gather your water bottle and bag, you chew absently on your thumbnail, mind still working through the mess your isolation has created. 

It’s only been five days. In the grand scheme of your friendship, that was nothing. Sanemi said you’d hear from him, and he’d never given you a reason to doubt him. 

So, you’ll continue doing the only thing you know how to do, where he’s concerned.

You will wait. 

———

Waiting, as it turns out, is far easier said than done. Or, maybe, Sanemi is just more of an idiot than you gave him credit for. 

Either way, your phone is still silent and you are still alone. 

Perhaps your self-assurance that you need only wait for Sanemi to come slinking back had been too optimistic. Because as five days become six, seven, eight, that certainty becomes tainted by doubt. Admittedly, it’s only a little, but it’s still substantial enough to form a pit in your stomach. One that gnaws at your edges just enough to irritate you, an itch you can’t quite scratch.

At first, it’s easy to ignore; after all, gaps in Sanemi’s communication aren’t uncommon. In fact, you’re fairly used to going days or sometimes even more than a week without hearing from him. Usually, he broke his silence with some dumb meme or an abrupt you eat yet? that let you know he wasn’t dead in some ditch. 

But the more days that pass leaving you with nothing but your thoughts for company, that sourness festers. Because, beneath your irritation lingers the faintest trace of insecurity. 

Is it irrational? Maybe. And you’re not so stupid that you can’t draw the very obvious connection between his silence and your anxiety. No, you’re painfully aware that your insecurity has everything to do with how the two of you left things after that night. 

You don’t bother wondering whether you might feel differently had you not blurted out those three words that meant nothing between you would ever be the same. That particular ship sailed the moment you fell back against your sheets, naked, and begged him to make you his. The moment he agreed.

The constant reminders of him aren’t helpful, either. Every ding! of the store bell sends your heart pounding only for the bitter taste of disappointment to fill your mouth when you realize the newest patron is without the mop of silvery white hair or priggish smirk you so desperately long to see.

Does your ridiculous pining inspire you to reach for your phone? Of course not. Sanemi’s the one who owes you that; it’s his rules that have dictated whatever it is that’s blossomed between you in the last year. You can’t make his choice for him, not when he won’t so much as clue you in on the options. The why.

But god, do you wish you knew. 

—

The ninth morning arrives just like the previous eight: hot, humid, and without a goddamn word from Sanemi. 

The day passes like all the others. You rise at six, dress, and try to pretend there isn’t a headache blooming behind your right eye. You make it to the store by seven, and do your opening duties, make shitty coffee in the store’s shittier coffee pot, and settle in behind the counter. Customers trickle in throughout the day and you greet them with the same, plastered smile, carefully perfected over the two years you’ve spent shackled here.

The hours whiz by, and every tick of the clock hand becomes duller. Even the sirens that set off every so often in various directions around the store seem muted, despite their persistent wailing. The faces of shoppers blur together, and by midday, you’ve forgotten how to see them at all.  

You wonder whether you’re falling right back into that frozen stasis in which you’d lived before Sanemi exploded into your store, dragging in with him a string of felonies, his foul mouth, and the sun. It’s a frightening thought, but not frightening enough, it seems, to keep the color from leeching out of the world around you.

You shake your head. No, you won’t do that again. Whatever you’d been doing before Sanemi hadn’t been living; it was barely more than existing. As bright as your world had been since he’d become a part of it, you can’t chalk your happiness up to him. It isn’t a burden he asked for, and it would be unfair for you to dump it on him. After all, he must’ve been just as lonely, if he’d sought a friend in you.

You’ll survive without him; you know you will. After all, you’ve managed just fine, these last few years. 

But you’d be lying if you said you haven’t enjoyed seeing the world in technicolor again. And that is enough to make you hope (desperately) that Sanemi might think of his world as a little brighter with you in it, too. 

—

By the time you close up for the night, your dull headache has blossomed into a raging migraine that threatens to split your skull in two. A perfect shit cherry to top off this wonderfully shit day. 

Of course, your headache could have everything to do with the fact you’ve gone the entire day without a meal, but it’s easier to blame Sanemi and his silence, so you do. Still, the thought of cereal yet again churns your stomach. 

Twilight has settled over the city skyline when you leave the store, dark and locked up tightly.  The neon lights of the city have already switched on, bathing the sidewalks in their artificial glow. The air has thankfully cooled, but it’s still sticky, and sweat beads around your temple before you’ve made it down the block. 

There are few things in this city that make life enjoyable. The closet you loosely call home is egregiously overpriced and in the summer, damn near uninhabitable. The bookstore pays far too little to justify the amount of work you do. And, it’s not like you have ties to anything or anyone here, save a criminal who can’t be bothered to shoot you a goddamn text. 

But the diner on Twelfth Street? That dingy hole in the wall with the best breakfast menu in town is almost enough to make up for all of the City’s shortcomings. 

The promise of buttery pancakes and salty bacon makes your mouth water, and that alone is enough for you to change course. Home can wait; you deserve to treat yourself, for once.  

You make the turn down Market, treading the familiar path toward the diner. Sanemi once told you that the safest times to walk these streets was dawn and dusk — the transitional periods of the day, when regular nine-to-fivers went about their daily commutes. For one, blissful hour at sunrise and sunset, the City returned to the bustling metropolis of your memory. Office workers crowded the streets, stopped in at shops lining the sidewalks for last minute errands or quick dinners, as they pretended to not hear the distant sirens over the honking of impatient cars and beeps from the crosswalks. 

Though, you think as you eye a group of young adults crowded around a table outside one of restaurants, perhaps none of them are pretending. Maybe they’re painfully aware that they’re stranded on a sinking ship. Maybe they’ve decided to just enjoy what few precious moments they have, before it all goes down for good. 

Or, maybe they haven’t noticed there’s any water rising, at all. 

In fairness, it’s not like you’re any better than they are. Here you are, playing at a cozy (albeit, boring) life, working at a bookstore that has no connection to either the Corps or its rivals. No protection. 

Arguably, that means you’re worse; you know all too well of the danger life here poses, but here you are, clinging to the fraying vestiges of normalcy like it might be worth salvaging. 

Oh well. If the merry twenty-somethings gathered outside and toasting to overpriced wine haven’t caught on by now, they never will. Not until their favorite restaurant goes up in flames, or the sharp crack of gunfire shatters their pretty stemmed glasses. 

Just as it happened in the other boroughs of the City, like the Western Wing. The Kizuki, you recalled Sanemi saying, spitting the name like a curse. Don’t fuckin’ go near the Western Wing, you hear me? Off limits. Silo, too.

If he eventually came back, how long before he’d be warning you about your own small corner of the world? Where else could you go, once the bones of the City finally went up in flames?

The place Sanemi would: its ashes.

—-

The diner is teeming with rush hour patrons, and you have to force your way through a gaggle of teens to reach the pickup counter. Despite how cramped the inside is, one of the waitresses manages to spot you, calling out your name in greeting. A few seconds later; and she appears just behind the counter in a whirl of pink and green, and hands off your to-go order with a beaming smile. You pass her your money, and waive her off when she tries to give you change.

She could use it; you’re all too familiar with the strain of meager wages.

You make to depart the diner with a cheerful “thank you!” called back to your waitress, though you can’t tell whether she heard you. Your voice is hoarse, your throat, scratchy from days of non-use, and your farewell barely rises above the hum of the other patrons. The lump of self-pity sitting that’s been sitting in your gut hardens. You’d anticipated the mental toll from your utter lack of human connection, but you hadn’t expected any physical effects from it. If nothing else, let Sanemi’s absence be your very obvious sign from the universe that you need to find yourself a friend. Preferably, one who isn’t habitually involved in illegal activity that may or may not land you in jail as his unwitting accomplice. 

Takeout secured, you work to squeeze through the thick clusters of dine-in patrons, eyes fixed on the exit as you dodge an odd elbow here and there. Right as you reach for the metal bar on the door, your foot stubs into something hard. It’s enough to nearly send you flailing, your hands crinkling the brown paper bag containing your dinner before it can spill all over the sticky tile.   

You barely have time to finish sputtering your curse when a hand grabs your forearm, steadying you. The thing responsible for your collison is a man, one apparently trying to decide whether he wanted to order or chance somewhere else, given how he lingers in the doorway.

Inwardly, you know he’s in the wrong because he’s blocking the exit, but that doesn’t stop you from rushing to apologize, anyway. To his credit, he waves you off. Eager to make your escape, you ready some nicety that will allow you to slip out the front door.

The moment he meets your eyes, any platitudes you might have offered dry right up on your tongue. 

Here, in a city surrounded by skyscrapers and streets lined with buildings jam-packed together like sardines, there’s little room for space, and it’s not something you’ve ever particularly missed. But as you stare into his eyes — black and cold — you finally realize what it means for something to be empty; how it feels, to look into an abyss.

Perhaps it’s because this man has within him, a void, that his eyes reflect the neon signage cluttering the diner’s walls. That’s the only explanation you can ration, given the way they seem to blend and swirl together in those depthless pools, creating an odd blend of colors. Unnatural and unnerving. He grins and it’s sharp, wicked thing. His mouth is too wide for his face, hungry and full of teeth that gleam far too bright. A wolf ready to rip into its prey.

Some deep, primal part of you waits for him to do just that, to sink those too-sharp teeth into your skin and shred you apart. Instead, he only inclines his head toward you, a mocking sketch of civility. 

“Ladies first.” 

You fumble around your words, searching for something — anything — to say, but there is only cotton in your mouth. Worse, the longer your paralysis persists, the more you’re forced to study him, even though everything about him — from his pale hair to his unusual eyes — sets your teeth on edge. 

A too-red tongue flicks out to wet his lips, and the sweat gathering at your temple freezes. Maybe it’s a trick of the light, or maybe your nerves have you searching for shadows that may or may not exist, but you swear there’s something on his tongue. A tattoo of sorts, perhaps. 

Whatever it is – light tricks or you own over-imaginative mind – it’s nothing you need to look harder into. If anything, your friendship with Sanemi has taught you there’s no safety measure more important than minding your business. And, it’s getting late. You need to get home, before it gets dark.

Sanemi hates when you walk alone in the dark. 

“Sorry again,” you manage with a squeak. You try and push by him once more, doing everything in your power not to brush up against him, when a hand grabs at your forearm.

If your heart could somehow unstick itself from your throat, you might have been brave enough to demand to know what his problem is; but it won’t, so you aren’t.  

All you can do is stare into those soulless eyes.

“Pretty girls shouldn’t rush,” he chastises with a saccharine smile, and his fingers squeeze your arms. His skin is cold and clammy.  

At last, you find your voice and you imbue it with all the steel you can muster. “My boyfriend is waiting.”  

The lie rolls easily off your tongue and gives you enough courage to wrench your arm free. The man lets you go, easily, that too-sweet smile never once faltering as you hastily push through the diner’s exit.

The air outside opens up, yet still, you find it difficult to breathe. Every one of your senses is on high-alert, trained toward the door at your back and the unshakeable feeling of eyes watching you as you hurriedly cross the street. 

You don’t dare look back.

Iron pumps hot in your legs as you half-walk, half-jog toward home. You still feel him watching you even as you reach your street, and you won’t dare to let him see where you live in the event your paranoia proves correct. 

You walk around the block — twice — and feint down a side alley, not caring for the food steadily growing colder in your bag. Only when you confirm the man is no where in sight, only when you’re certain you can’t feel eyes bearing into your back any longer do you finally loop back around to your building.

The deadbolt on your door is a comfort you’d never thought to appreciate until now, and you hurry to slide it into place the moment you step inside your apartment. Door locked, you slump back against the lacquered wood and sink to the ground, your heart thumping uncomfortably in your chest as you work to steady your ragged breath. 

For once, Sanemi’s paranoia doesn’t feel like a burden.

—

All your life, you’ve known that anxiety is an ailment best cured by food. Twenty minutes later, you sit at your kitchen table and eat your takeout in silence, save the odd squeak of your fork scraping against the plastic bottom of the container, the encounter at the diner, forgotten.

Instead, you’re left to chew on bits of scrambled egg and your own loneliness. You’ve never had a roommate — never wanted one, for that matter. Your apartment has always been your space, a place where you could go and just be, without a thought or care in the world. Your perfect sanctuary where you could fill the emptiness of your life with books, the lovely stories so delicately crafted by those perhaps as lonely as you. 

Overpriced and temperamental as your apartment could be, it’s still home. 

And yet, somehow, home feels emptier than you remember, despite the fact you’ve always lived here alone. 

Normally, you’d turn on the TV or listen to something in order to distract from the utter stillness in your apartment, but tonight, you can’t even bring yourself to do that. Not when the repetitive cycle of commercials and the same four reruns airing seemed only to amplify the monotony of your solitude.

So, you continue to eat in silence.

Later, after you’ve shoved your empty takeout containers to the side, you sit at your kitchen table and fiddle with your phone. 

It’s been a few days since you’ve bothered to look at it. It has remained on Do Not Disturb, shoved to the bottom of your bag, with you too unwilling to look at the hateful little reminder that without Sanemi to talk to, you are utterly and completely alone. 

You have few contacts saved, so finding Sanemi’s name takes little time – but not before you scroll past the entry marked simply, “Mom.”

You don’t even want to know how long it’s been since you last talked to her – or your dad, for that matter. Somehow, you doubt your phone has kept any record of those few and far between calls. They barely ever lasted long enough to make a dent on your phone bill, anyway. 

Oh, Mama, you think bitterly. What would you make of me, now? 

Knowing her daughter had fallen helplessly in love with a season criminal might very well do her in. She’d have a conniption, at the very least, especially if she learned of Sanemi’s reputation among women. There’d be no chance to deny what you’d let him do – what you’d asked him for, and it wouldn’t matter that you loved him any more than it would that he’d rescued her other child, once upon a time. 

Though, you suppose you’re getting ahead of yourself. All of your spite rests on the presumption that she remembered to care.

She doesn’t, so it doesn’t really matter. 

You snort. Maybe you should mention it to your parents somehow, even if through a lie. Perhaps in your next Christmas card; a cheerful, Merry Christmas! I’m dating a known gang-banger – talk next year!

God, their faces when they realized you were nothing more than some felon’s whore. You’d be written off faster than the ink on the card could dry. That alone might be worth it, if only to not have to continue playing this tedious game of pretend.

But, if Sanemi never speaks to you again, you’d rather not have all your bridges burned. At least the annual check-in with them confirmed you were alive – if those ended, you’d truly have no one. 

So, you scroll on, finding the object of all your ire – and heartache – and tap on its entry.

Your thumbs hover over the keyboard as the cursor in the blank text box blinks at you, Sanemi’s name just above it. 

Hey. You type before deleting it with a wince. 

That book you’ve been waiting on just arrived. I’ll leave it on the restock shelf for you. 

No, no, that won’t work either. You don’t want him to think you plan on ignoring what happened, and neither do you want to give him the out. You two will have to talk about it eventually, even if it’s to establish it can never happen again. 

The thought of losing him makes your heart crack, the fissure spreading across your chest until you’re not sure whether you can keep yourself together. 

If you’re cutting this off, I at least deserve to know. 

Your thumb hovers over the arrow to send, your cursor blinking expectantly at you. 

You don’t want to be hateful any more than you want to appear insecure. After all, Sanemi said you’d hear from him, and it’s only been a week. He’d promised you would hear from him. 

 He’d promised. 

With a frustrated grunt, you hurl your phone at your couch, anger melting into numbness as you watch it slide between the cushions and out of sight. You do not retrieve it; instead you throw your takeout into the garbage with more force than necessary and strip yourself down to your underwear. 

Summer has arrived fast and hot, and you know that the ancient air conditioning unit groaning and guttering in your window is due to short out on you any day now, as it does every year. Already the air in your apartment had become sticky and warm; it’s only a matter of time before sleeping became downright unbearable. 

Though no one is around to hear, you snort. Figures that Sanemi’s sudden disappearance from your life coincides with your yearly descent into renter’s hell. If the universe has decided to you need to be dragged through shit, it’s doing a thorough job of it.

As if on cue, a familiar pang of pain shoots through your lower stomach. You glance at the date on your phone, and groan. Great. The last row of this month’s birth control card should’ve been your warning. Your  already shitty mood is about to get even worse. 

Your new prescription is already in your drawer, and you half-contemplate skipping the half-row of sugar pills, but you hold off. You’d already suffered a stern lecture from your doctor for doing that in the past, and you know it’s not good for you. No matter how great the temptation to spare yourself from debilitating cramps, you’ll just have to suffer through it. 

Besides, this period probably isn’t the one to try and skip, anyways. Not after the events of that night. You’re better off making sure you’re getting your money’s worth out of birth control that, admittedly, costs more than you reasonably can afford. If nothing else, it’s worth it to avoid having to eat crow and admit you should’ve taken Sanemi up on his offer to get you the morning-after pill.

You tie your hair back as best you can, grateful to get it off your sweat-dampened neck and glance toward your couch. Perhaps you’ll muster up the courage to text him tomorrow, but for tonight, you’ll remain a coward. So, you leave your phone there, straddled somewhere between the cushions, and switch off your kitchen light before burying yourself in bed, the ache blooming in your lower belly matching the one in your heart.

—--

The first ray of morning light streaking through the cracks in the cardboard stuffed in his window is nearly blinding, but Sanemi is already awake. He has been for a few hours now, unable to find much peace in a night filled with distant sirens and plagued by thoughts of you. 

God, he feels like shit. It’d been after midnight by the time he’d cruised back through city limits, and it was nearly two before he returned to his apartment, Sanemi having gone out of the way to drop off Rengoku’s car so he wouldn’t have to deal with it come sunrise. 

Despite the emotional taxation of his visit with Genya, however, Sanemi had been hard-pressed to find sleep. Now that the sun’s up, though, he can’t avoid facing it any longer. His phone has been blissfully quiet all morning, and he has to take advantage of that silence while he can.

Today is the day, he decides between splashes of tepid tap water against his face once he forces himself out of bed and into his bathroom to wash up. 

Today is the day he muscles up the courage to talk to you. 

Not like he’s really got much of an excuse to put this off longer than he already has. Genya had told him as much. 

The bristles of his toothbrush flatten against his teeth under the force of Sanemi’s brushing, toothpaste foaming in the corners of his mouth. Embarrassing. So fucking embarrassing. His teenage shithead of a brother — who couldn’t even talk to girls, let alone date one — had been able to see the obvious answer to the very predicament Sanemi had spent the better part of a week running around like a headless chicken.

Then again, nothing in Sanemi’s life has even been simple, so it figures he’d try and complicate something as straightforward as this. You.

A hearty spit into the sink later and Sanemi wipes his mouth clean with the back of his hand. 

He supposes it was inevitable; he can’t avoid you forever, and he owes you some sort of explanation, an in-person one, at that. No matter how new this is to him, he at least knows you deserve more than a measly text or phone call. 

The bones of the Silo give way to the rusted shipyard marking its outer limits, the landscape whizzing by in a blur of rust and decay as Sanemi speeds past. Though the wind tears and whips at his cheeks, it hardly offers much in the way of relief from the heat of the sun bearing down on him from high above. 

Sweat rolls down his back as Sanemi guns through the city’s East Wing, opting to zip down back roads instead of dealing with the traffic on the main streets. It feels strange, to be speeding towards a decision that will fundamentally alter everything in his life, when everything right now feels the same as it did a year ago. Here he is, gunning down the same path to the bookstore he’d taken then — down an alley, out of sight from laying eyes. Summer in the City carries the same, weighted heat from year to year, and this one is no exception: oppressively hot, the air soupy and thick with humidity. 

And Sanemi is still as hopelessly shackled to the Corps as he was then – as he’s always been.

The brand between his shoulders itches.

Still, he supposes he can count his lucky stars that he’s not on the run from the cops as he’d been last summer – at least, not currently. And he takes comfort in knowing that he won’t find himself being pushed and shoved under your store counter, your lip curling in disdain even as you made good on a decade-old favor.

At least, he hopes that’s the case.

In all honesty, Sanemi knows he may very well find himself on the receiving end of that cold, unforgiving stare just as he had last summer. Only this time, the daggers you shoot his way might actually shred his heart to bits.

You have to be pissed at him. You’d be stupid not to be, and while your unfathomable affection for him suggests otherwise, you are smarter than he is – infinitely so. He’s ghosted you for more than a week, and you can’t possibly think you have to accept that kind of idiocy on his part, no matter his excuses. That means this talk has to be about damage control – however much of it you’ll allow. 

He should start with an apology, that much is obvious. And he’ll follow it up with something he never deigned to give anyone who didn’t have the name of the Corps’ boss family attached to them: an explanation.

Though, he notes with a grimace, an explanation supposed you’d give him long enough to make it through his apology without lobbing a well-aimed book at his head. Given your responses to his bullshit in the past, assault and battery are very real possibilities.

The closer he draws to your bookstore, and the gnawing pit in his stomach grows wider. If you’re angry, then he’ll let you be. You can curse him all you want, throw as many book-bound projectiles at his head as you’d like, as long as you’ll hear him out.

There is another possibility, however. One that he can only label as a worst-case scenario, one that he hasn’t dared let himself consider even though he knows it’s a very real — and very understandable — outcome. The one where you have no reaction at all, only utter indifference to him and his absence. After all, you’d only asked one thing from him, and he gave it to you. Even if you’d told him you loved him, you hadn’t asked him to love you back. 

Maybe you’d said it knowing he was a lost cause, and now that you’ve gotten what you wanted — the loss of your virginity and the weight of your confession off your shoulders — you could move on from him, even if that meant taking the misshapen lump of his heart with you as you left him behind.

Deep down, as devastating as that outcome would be for him, indifference is the best option for you. You’re better off without him; he knows this. So, he’ll pick up the pieces of himself and he’ll figure out how to glue them back together on his own.

Mind spiraling, Sanemi turns onto the street leading to you, a nauseous mixture of dread and anxiety churning in his gut. 

About two doors down from the bookstore sits a coin laundromat and a repair shop. It’s here that Sanemi’s bike gutters to a stop, his eyes sweeping the streets for any out-of-place faces, anyone who might seem too interested in his movements.

All is quiet.

He stashes his bike in the gap between the two buildings. Normally, he’d pull into the alley behind the bookstore and come in through the back exit, but he doubts you’ve left the door unlocked for him. Not when he’s dropping by unannounced. He can’t imagine you’d take kindly to him pounding on the emergency exit, and the fewer opportunities he has to piss you off, the better. He’ll have to use the front door.

Kickstand in place and key tucked safely in his pocket, Sanemi shuffles along the sidewalk. Anxiety twists his stomach into knots, and it takes effort to force himself to breathe normally. But when he reaches the shop’s entryway, Sanemi stops cold. 

The store is dark; there are no lights on inside, and even the way the door sits shut seems uncharacteristically cold.

He frowns. Perhaps you’re in the back, dealing with some delivery issue. Sanemi reaches for the door’s knob, ready to call out your name —

It’s locked.

Sanemi’s heart begins thudding uncomfortably in chest. The store is never closed. In the year he has known you, you are at the bookstore seven days a week, except for Christmas. But it’s midsummer; the store should not be closed. The lights shouldn’t be off, it shouldn’t be empty.

You should not be missing from behind the clerk’s counter.

Some semblance of sanity remains and encourages him to hurry around to the back alley, where he knows you accept deliveries. But the alley is as dark and as barren as the inside of your store, and the emergency exit is locked tight.

No store. No you. No sign indicating that you might have stepped away for a moment, or detailing some issue with the store and apologizing for any inconveniences to your customers. No explanation. 

Sanemi’s hands are dialing your number before his mind can fully process the action.

“Answer your fucking phone.” His voice trembles as the phone rings and rings. “Now.”

It goes to voicemail.

He tries again. Voicemail.

Again.

Voicemail.

Voicemail.

Voicemail.

His body breaks into a run even before his mind can fully piece together the action, his bike forgotten. Riding it would require a coordination Sanemi doesn’t have anyway, not while his thumb is busy jamming repeatedly at the call function on his phone, as Sanemi sprints for your studio. 

The line rings and rings but his desperation goes unanswered. And each time he hears the automated machine instruct him to leave a message, Sanemi grows more frantic. The burn in his legs barely registers; he is consumed only by the need to move faster, to close the distance between him and your apartment as quickly as possible.

Answer your phone. He wills you, pressing the green phone icon yet another time, and then another. Answer your phone. Answer your goddamn phone.

You never do.

He makes it to your place in record time, his fist hammering on your door. His panicked call of your name echoes around the empty halls outside your apartment.

You don’t answer.

Sanemi does not relent; one hand finds your name on his phone while the other continues pounding away at your door. He brings his phone to his ear and listens for the sound of your voice.

It does not come — but your ringtone does. Faint; muffled from its place inside your apartment, but unmistakable.

The sweat on the back of his neck turns to ice.

Sanemi’s breath comes hard out of his mouth in short, panicked gasps. Of all your eccentricities, Sanemi knows there are exactly two things you’re never without: lip balm and your phone.

His chest constricts. Your phone ringing inside means only one of two possibilities. Either you are in your apartment, hurt or captive, or you’ve been taken.

Swearing viciously, he jerks against the locked knob of your apartment door, a frustrated growl tearing deep from his throat. He spins away, a frantic hand raking through his hair, before he turns back.

Eyes wild, he considers your door.

It really is a flimsy piece of wood. Even if your deadbolt was somehow latched, Sanemi wagers he could kick it in fairly easily.

Whatever has happened to you, it’s his fault. Whether someone had figured out who and what you were to him, or whether it was because you simply lived in a shitty part of town and he hadn’t taken enough steps to ensure your safety, your blood is on his hands. That means it’s his responsibility to fix it — even if he has to tear this rotting city apart, brick by crumbling brick.

He backs away with a crazed expression. Fuck what your neighbors might think. Fuck what you might think, he thinks, getting into the stance he needs to rip your doors from its hinges. He’ll fix your door after he finds you and makes sure you’re safe. After he takes care of whoever dared to lay a hand on you, his you —

Just as Sanemi is readying his leg, he hears the distinct rattle of a chain unlatching, and then the door swings open.

Shocked eyes, blissfully familiar, blink at him, standing posed to kick in your door just as he stares back.

Sanemi doesn’t think; his hand seizes tightly around your wrist and he yanks you into the hallway, slamming your door shut with the other hand.

“What the fu —?” You start but you’re cut off with a muted oomph! as Sanemi whirls you behind him. An indignant half screech squeaks out of you as Sanemi kicks your door open, one arm keeping you at his back.

His other hand has his gun drawn and cocked.

Your eyes bulge. “Sanemi, what —?”

“Who else is here?” His voice has a deadly sort of authority you’ve never heard, and it makes a lump of cold fear lodge in your throat. “How many?”

He flashes a quick look at you over his shoulder. “Are you hurt?”

“What are you talking about?” you snap, following closely behind and pounding at his back as Sanemi systematically makes his way through your apartment, gun pointed and ready. But your flailing fists do little to stop him. “What are you doing, you psychopath?”

He doesn’t answer; not until he clears your kitchen, that deadly hunk of metal still braced before him.

“The store was closed.” He says shortly, eyes scanning the shadows. “You weren’t answering your phone. I called and called and you didn’t answer —“

“I’m on my period!” You burst, hands dragging down your heated cheeks. “I’ve been here dying from cramps, you idiot!”

The hand holding the gun drops limply to his side, as Sanemi turns to blink dumbly at you.

“I told you, you imbecile, that my periods suck!” Your face feels hot and your voice has taken on a distinct squeakiness in the wake of your mortification. “I have pain meds to manage my symptoms, so I’ve been in and out of sleep all fucking day! I wasn’t answering my phone because I didn’t feel well enough to answer it, you — you —“ Your eyes screw up as you wrack your brain for something that can express the depths of his idiocy. “You — stupid!”

Your lackluster insult is enough to break Sanemi’s blank stupefaction. “I didn’t know.” He finally offers after a long moment, a hint of pink rising in his cheeks.

“So, your first instinct was to do what — act like a goddamned maniac?” You demand as Sanemi hastily puts the safety back on his gun and tucks it into the waistband of his pants. “You don’t speak to me for more than a week, but you think it’s a good idea to come beat my door down? Because I don’t answer a few texts?”

“Not a few texts,” Sanemi spits back. “I called and messaged over and over -- I was worried —“

“You were about to kick my door in!”

He squares his shoulders at that. “Yes,” he says hotly. “Yes, I was. Because I was fuckin’ terrified for a moment that something had happened to you. Because of me. Do you know what went through my mind when I heard your phone ringing, after I’ve spent the last half hour trying to get a hold of you? What the fuck else was I supposed to think?”

“That you would decide I was sick or busy or maybe dealing with something and couldn’t respond, like a normal fucking person –”

“You say we’re friends and you still haven’t figured out that there ain’t nothin’ normal about this? About me?”

Something flashes across your face, your eyes tightening at the word friends, but it’s gone before he can blink. Sanemi doesn’t let himself linger on what it means. Nor does he listen to that small voice in his head that coolly whispers that he knows damn well you two are more than friends, no matter how deeply he tries to bury his head in the sand.

You open your mouth, ready to unleash of slew of insults or perhaps give him the good verbal lashing he knows he deserves, when you double over with a wince.

“Oh, fuck me.” You groan, pressing a hand to your abdomen. You wave him off, dismissive. “I’m going back to bed. You know I’m not dead, so do whatever you want. You know where the door is.”

With that, you shuffle miserably back to your bed, hunched over in on yourself, your arms wrapped firmly around you middle. Sanemi watches, bemused, as you crumple into your mattress in a resigned heap, your knees drawn nearly to your chest.

He stares hard at your bed, nostrils flaring as he works to calm his breathing. Safe. You’re safe, nothing is wrong, you’re okay. He repeats this, again and again, a mantra that slowly eases the tension in his shoulders, soothes the violent fury in his veins. 

A groan of frustration sounds from beneath your blankets and pillows, slightly muffled. “Well? What do you want?” 

He considers you for another moment before he rocks back on his heels, clicking his tongue.

Fuck it. Fuck the Corps, fuck the rules, fuck it all.

“Where’re your keys?”

“Huh?” You lift your head just in time to see him start rooting through your bag where you’d left it looped it over the back of your kitchen chair.

Sanemi pulls out the woven keychain you used to attach a cluster of mismatched keys – ones to the store, the register, and most importantly, your front door. He tosses them in the air, triumphant, before snatching them up tight, pocketing them without so much as a look back at you.

“Later.”

Silence, and then, “you’ve gotta be fucking kidding me —“

He’s out the door before you finish your indignant sputtering.

—-

If any doubts lingered as to what exactly Sanemi’s decision was when it came to you, he’s fairly sure they’re resolved here, in the pharmacy’s period care aisle. Because, really, what else can he call this – him, standing before shelves lined with an array of boxes and tampons and pads, trying to figure out what the fuck he’s supposed to get – if not a commitment to you? 

A clear choice as any, he supposes. It’s you, or it’s nothing – no one – else. Whatever it is the two of you are though, is another matter. 

Rule Three: don’t get attached. 

Admittedly, that rule went right out the fucking window the moment he decided to pursue some sort of friendship with you, all those months ago. Even if it somehow survived the fall, he’d funcationally ran it over, again and again until nothing remained, the second he put his dick in you. 

Whatever the label, he supposes he at least has to pretend to give some semblance of a shit about Corps’ rules, if nothing more than because of his title within it. Plus, that caution probably serves to protect you as much as it does the Corps. And that means he can’t outwardly call you his girlfriend anymore than he can openly date you. 

He grimaces at the thought as he peruses the snack aisle, tossing a random assortment of your favorites into his basket alongside the variety box of tampons he’d settled on. Leave it to him to mull over shit like what to call you, now, when he’s got far bigger fish to fry. Never mind that for all the ways he’s decided he wants you to be his, he doesn’t yet know whether you want him. 

He did ditch you for over a week. Eleven days, to be exact. 

Oh, well. If somehow you don’t throw him out on his ass, then it doesn’t really matter what he calls you. It’s not like he’s particularly attached to labels, anyway. Not when girlfriend is far too casual a way to describe what Sanemi feels for you. 

He tries ignoring the pang of want in his heart as the word boyfriend flits through his mind. While he can’t call you his girlfriend to anyone within city limits, you don’t wear the same shackles that he does. You’re not bound by the same code. And damn, what he wouldn’t do to have you call him your boyfriend; to finally belong to something – someone – other than the Corps. It’s the sort of brand he’s gone his entire life craving even if he didn’t quite know it. One he’d wear proudly on his heart, even if no one else would ever see it. 

Finally, he reaches the front of the checkout line and tosses the contents of his basket onto the counter. Though, if you do decide you want his sorry ass, you’ll have to be careful enough to not link boyfriend to his name. While Sanemi may not give a shit about his own safety, yours is his priority. He won’t let you put his target on your back. 

Whatever labels do or do not await him, nothing changes the fact he cannot be a normal – whatever – to you. The only way you stay safe is if Sanemi lets his paranoia dictate the lines of your relationship, and even then, he can’t guarantee it’ll ever be enough. 

He pays for your stuff, gathering the bags in one hand while he rummages his pockets with the other until he finds your keys. So many uncertainties remain, far more than what makes him comfortable. Yet, in spite of it all, the bubbling, hot panic he’d felt sprinting to your apartment has given way to an unfamiliar lightness. One that makes him feel like he’s floating even as he stops at a small kiosk near the pharmacy’s exit and feeds your apartment key into the machine. 

Yeah, he’s fucking attached to you even though he knows better. But if you accept the metal the kiosk spits back out after a moment of whirring, it’ll be worth it. 

—-

Less than an hour after his dramatic exit, Sanemi slips back into your apartment. The plastic handles of his shopping bags looped unceremoniously around his wrists dig uncomfortably into his skin, and he dumps his bounty on the floor just inside your entryway. 

A soft thump against the wall to his right snaps his head up. 

Years of training to dodge fists, projectiles, bullets, enable Sanemi to duck right before one of your ridiculous little throw pillows smacks into his head.

Across the floor of your small apartment, Sanemi spies you sitting perched at the end of your bed, eyes wild and hair a mess, another pillow cocked in your hand, ready to be launched his way. 

Bewildered, Sanemi demands, “The fuck is your problem?” 

“You!” The fluffy cushion sails through the air, but Sanemi knocks it easily aside. His casual avoidance of your targeted rage only serves to infuriate you more, and he watches, with some amusement, as you whip your head from side to side, searching for something else to chuck at him. 

Finding nothing, you jab a finger toward the door. “Get out!” 

“Nah,” he folds his arms across his chest and levels your fury with a cool stare of his own. “Don’t feel like it, and I know you don’t want me to go, either.”

Your right eye twitches and Sanemi smirks. If you really wanted him gone, you would’ve fought harder when he took your keys. Probably would’ve chased him out the door, hurling all kinds of venom his way. If nothing else, you would’ve blown his phone up, calling him every name in the book, leveling every threat you could concoct.

You’ve forgotten, it seems, that he’s spent the past year learning you; being your friend. He’s far too used to your stubbornness; he knows when you’re full of shit. 

“You’re impossible.” And with a huff, you turn your back to him and throw yourself back down on your mattress, yanking your blankets up to your chin. 

He stomps over to your side of the bed and glowers down at your back, put stubbornly to him. 

Fine. You wanna play this way? Sanemi can deal in pettiness, too.

An edge of your blanket peeks out near your feet, a small sliver you hadn’t managed to tuck into place. A mistake, on your end, given that it only takes Sanemi hooking his fingers under it to rip the blanket clean off you.

He tries not to linger on the whiff of your scent that slaps him in his face. An intoxicating mixture of your perfume and shampoo that socks him in the gut. 

While the loss of the blanket’s security forces you to curl in tighter on yourself, you offer no reaction. Not even a spiteful little glare over your shoulder, or some half-hearted insult, and for some reason, that pisses him off even more.

“You’re not ignorin’ me,” he growls, balling the quilt in his hands.  “I can be a bigger pain in the ass than this.”

Still nothing. 

After a moment, Sanemi’s irritation finally boils over. “Can I just fuckin’ hold you, please?” 

You flip over to gape up at him, returning his pinched glare with outrage of your own. If Sanemi’s silence since that night was a bruise to your ego, the earnestness belying the arrogant annoyance in his eyes is a finger jabbing mercilessly at it. 

Because he actually means it.

Part of you wants to laugh at the absurdity of his request, and another part wants to launch every obscenity you can dream of right at his stupidly handsome face. 

You go for the in-between. “No!” Your voice is shrill. “No, you can’t hold me. You ghost me for almost two weeks, nearly break my door in half, steal my keys and fuck off for over an hour, and you think you get to hold me?” You throw your hands up over your head in exasperation before dragging them down your face, exasperated. “Are you stupid?”

Never mind that’s exactly what you want to happen — it’s all you’ve wanted, actually. But Sanemi’s idiocy has to cost him something, and despite the way your stomach dipped in excitement when you heard him sliding your keys into the door’s lock, he owes you an explanation. And until you get one, he can keep on sitting at the very top of your shit list, all by his lonesome.

Some of the hardness in his eyes softens as your words hit their mark. In its place emerged a shadow of disappointment, one that has you reconsidering your previous stance, your hands itching to reach for him.

Gently, Sanemi tosses your bunched up blanket to the foot of your bed. “Fine.” He gestures vaguely behind him. “But I’m still gonna put all this shit away, and then you and me are gonna talk.” 

That makes you sit up. “What shit?” 

Sanemi doesn’t bother dignifying you with an answer; doesn’t so much as spare you a glance as he stalks back toward your door. He totes the plastic shopping bags to your shabby kitchen table as you trail behind him, your curiosity outweighing your desire to remain rotting in bed. 

“Wait,” you frown, reaching for his arm. You try and still him as he unloads aspirin followed by a fresh box of tampons. “Sanemi —“

“Just shut up and let me take care of you.” He pulls a frozen pizza out of the shopping bag and glances at you. “Did you eat?”

You hesitate but then you slowly shake your head.

He snorts, depositing the box on your counter. Figures.

Bemused, you watch as he lugs the rest of his bounty into your kitchen and sets to work organizing his purchases. It’s a strange sight. Sanemi bustles around as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. He navigates your cabinets with a confidence that only comes from familiarity, his movements more akin to something like muscle memory. 

His comfortability makes sense, given how much time he’s spent here over the last year. Still, you never imagined a hardened criminal could look so…domestic.

What doesn’t make sense, however, is why. From the moment he’d thundered into your apartment in a murderous rage to his abrupt exit with your keys and sudden reappearance with groceries, Sanemi’s erratic actions have you in a tailspin you can’t begin to find your way out of. Because none of it makes sense.

Too much; this is all too much. 

“Stop, stop, stop!” Your hand snatches around his forearm, stilling him. Annoyed, Sanemi huffs down at you only to be met with your own frosty glare. 

You cut your eyes to the spread of snacks and period products atop your kitchen counter. “What is all this, Sanemi? I mean,” you gesture helplessly between him and the bags. “What are you doing?” 

Sanemi grabs the frozen pizza box and turns it over, eyes skimming the instructions. “Taking care of you.” He monotones, like it’s supposed to be obvious. Like him sifting through a bag full of snacks — all your favorites, you note — was normal, part of some unspoken ritual.

You know better; because the sidelong look he casts you is one of remorse; guilt. 

He’s stalling. And it’s precisely because of his own hesitancy that you can’t be the first one to give in; to open the very obvious can of worms that sits between you. 

You will not make his decisions for him; you won’t shoulder the burden of any blame should this go tits up.

“Why are you here, Sanemi?” 

He busies himself with your oven’s settings, fiddling with the knobs until it clicks on, preheating. Wordlessly, Sanemi slides the pizza into the oven and sets the timer.

“Sanemi.” You press.

Instantly, the rest of his arrogance deflates. He turns back to you, shoulders heavy, slumped forward with something like shame. 

“‘M sorry, I just…” he trails off with a helpless shrug. He drops his head, staring hard at the cracked linoleum of your floor.

You shift, settling in against the empty doorway to your kitchen, arms folded across your chest. After another moment, he raises his head, and takes a tentative step forward.

“For months, I haven’t been able to think about a damn thing but you.” Sanemi begins, his expression uncharacteristically grave. “Can’t sleep, can’t eat, can barely fuckin’ breathe without thinking about you. Without thinking of how fucking badly I want you.”

A tired hand runs through his hair. “Haven’t even been with anyone else in months. Not when all I can think about  is you.” He snorts, though it’s without humor. “Started picturin’ you when I was with the others and everything. Nearly called out your name with one of ‘em one night, and knew I couldn’t do it anymore.”

That little revelation nearly knocks the wind right out of you. Since your friendship with him began, you’ve kept your ears steadily tuned toward any mention of Sanemi’s name. Part of you rationalized it was out of concern for his wellbeing, but in truth, you’d been nosy.

Not once had there been a whisper of the infamous Sanemi Shinazugawa settling down, of him slowing his antics. 

Then again, the moment you’d begun catching the details of his wild reputation among the women of the Silo, you’d tuned out all the noise, too embarrassed to admit your own interest.

“I was selfish, kissin’ you.” Sanemi’s hoarse voice calls you back. “Swore it was only gonna happen once, and couldn’t even keep that promise. And then, what we did that night — that only made it worse. D’you know why?” 

He chances another step toward you and the air between you thickens. Suddenly, there’s little space left between your bodies, and you’re all too aware of the heat rolling off his body, drawing you in, a moth to a flame. 

A hand reaches for you, his fingers nearly grazing your hair, but his arm drops back limply to his side. “‘Cuz I shouldn’t have been able to have you. Not like that. But I did, and —“ he swallows, hard. “I knew I wanted more before I slept with you. Knew that if I ever crossed that line, I wasn’t coming back from it. Couldn’t.”

Your lips part. “Sanemi —“

“I can’t be your friend, Y/N.” Sanemi says heavily. “I just can’t. I knew that way back when I first started comin’ around, but I wanted to try. But I sure as hell can’t be your friend, now."

A crack splinters across your chest, and by the way Sanemi’s eyes tighten, you wonder if he heard it; the sound of your heart breaking.

It was only ever going to end this way. You should’ve known — a part of you did know. But that hadn’t stopped you from trying, from loving him, anyways. 

You open your mouth, ready to voice your resigned acceptance; to cut him loose, save yourself the devastation of any further explanation, when Sanemi shifts. 

With a gulp, he shoves a hand into his pocket, rummaging. Whatever it is he searches for, he finds and holds out his closed fist before letting it drop.

A glint of light bounces off the object dangling from his fingers and from your periphery, you can tell it’s metal. Frowning, you tilt your head, inspecting.

Your heart gutters to a halt as its shape takes form.

A key. A single silver key, plain and unassuming, yet somehow, the entirety of your future rests somewhere between the neat little grooves you know perfectly match the hardware of the lock on your door.  

“I had it made while I was out.” Sanemi’s confession is breathless, and he swallows hard before adding, “If you don’t want me to have it, then take it. It’s yours.”

For a long moment, you say nothing; you only stare at the key hanging in the air. Half a heartbeat ago, you’d believed this — whatever it was — with Sanemi was over. That whatever brightness he’d brought to your dreary little life had faded, and he’d leave you behind, just like everyone else you’d dared to love. 

“If I tell you to keep it,” you start carefully, gaze trained so pointedly on the key dangling from his fingers that you don’t notice the way his eyes round. “Then what does that mean for us?” 

He needs to say it. After a week of nothing from him, he at least owes you this. A label. 

His throat bobs. A beat passes, and then, “It means I’m all yours. Only yours.” 

Not good enough. “My what?” 

Sanemi’s fingers tense in faint agitation and your eyes cut to his. 

“Yours,” he insists again, more hotly. “Your boyfriend, your partner, your whatever-the-fuck-it-is that you call someone who’s all in and wants to be with you, and only you.”

Air hardens in your throat, forms a lump you don’t know how to swallow around. 

He says it so simply, as though it’s obvious; like he hadn’t avoided you without a damn word for more than a week, leaving you to fight against insecurity you hadn’t known to have, before him. 

I love you, Sanemi.

He hadn’t said it back, then. Initially, you thought it was because he didn’t feel the same. Sure, he cared for you, that much was obvious, but perhaps that consideration didn’t rise to the level of devotion you held for him. You were okay with that; you hadn’t said it out of expectation, anyways. You’d only wanted him to know your heart, to know that as long as it was beating, it would be his. 

Now, this key is his answer to your admission that night. And while it may not be the three words part of you longs to hear, it’s just as much as a confession on his part. 

You could kick him out; tell him no, tell him that he, under no uncertain terms, could fuck right off after leaving you on silent for more than a week. You could. 

You don’t. 

Because, he came back. Maybe in a whirlwind of murderous, seething violence, but Sanemi came back. No ulterior motives, no conditions; he came back for you and you alone. 

He saw you and all your monotony, all your inexperience, and he came back anyway.

He was the only one who ever had. 

Quietly trembling fingers latch around his wrist and for a moment, Sanemi thinks you’re going to take it from him. All at once, the earth crumbles and faces beneath him, plummeting him right into the hell he knew he was venturing into the moment you looked him in the eyes and asked him to do the impossible. 

A buzz settles in his ears and Sanemi braces for the rejection he should’ve known was to come. He’d screamed it at himself that night, his head warning his stupid heart that this was precisely the only way this could go. You’d gotten your fill of him, loved him even, but this — he — is too much. He should’ve known better, he did know —

Your fingers close his fist around the key and squeeze it tight. Wide-eyed and breathless, Sanemi finds that for once, he does not resent the way the metal presses into his skin. 

“Keep it.” Your hands are warm where they embrace his. “I’m yours.”

It takes him a moment to remember how to speak; to realize the static in his head has quieted. His world comes back together just as quickly as it fell apart, its pieces realigning with you at its center.

Relief, he thinks, has never felt so fucking sweet. “Thank fuck.” 

The key clatters to the floor but no one pays it any mind; Sanemi is too busy surging forward, his hands planted firmly on your cheeks as his mouth crashes eagerly — desperately — into yours. 

The kiss is little more than a frantic clash of lips and teeth, but everything about it is so fucking right that neither of you can be bothered to care. 

You fling an arm around his neck, anchoring yourself to him as Sanemi’s enthusiasm threatens to send you stumbling back. Some small, distant voice hisses that you should’ve made him work for it a little longer, should’ve made him grovel for forgiveness. But then his hands are dragging down your front, and he’s pulling you into him by your hips with a possessive grunt and suddenly, you can’t remember why any of it matters.

Neither of you are aware that you’re moving, not until your back bumps up against the entryway of your kitchen. Even then, your small gasp of surprise serves as nothing more than the chance for Sanemi’s tongue to sweep into your mouth, branding you with his claim. 

It was always going to end this way — him, pressing you into your kitchen doorframe, his hands shoved under your t-shirt to rest on your bare waist while you pull him closer, your fingers twisting in his hair. Sanemi is a weak man; no matter how his better judgment snipped and snapped at him, all roads led right back here. It was inevitable.

Even if he hadn’t chosen your bookstore to hide in that day, somehow, the universe would’ve found another way to throw him into your life.

Sanemi breaks away with a pant. “Fuck, Y/N,” he moans against your lips. “You don’t know what the fuck you do to me.” 

“Took you long enough,” you chastise between quick pecks. “I was beginning to think your head was perma-lodged up your ass.”

A sound of exasperation accompanies the nip of his teeth at your lip. “God forbid the Princess has to wait on anything.”

You hum into his mouth. “Not anything,” you correct, breaking away from his lips in favor of brushing your nose against his. “You, asshole.”

This time, it’s Sanemi who moans. “Bullyin’ only turns me on, sweetheart. Thought you knew that already.”

“And deflecting doesn’t help your cause. You still have some making up to do.” You scoff, lowering yourself back down to your normal height. Sanemi’s hands linger, cradling your face, and you can’t help but nuzzle into his palm.

“Yeah, well,” Sanemi murmurs, his thumb stroking your cheek. “‘M here now, and I want you. And I’m a fuckin’ idiot for thinking this is a good idea, and so are you for wantin’ me, but that’s where we are. Can’t go back.”

The corner of your mouth twitches up. “You mean, you can’t unfuck me.”

“Nah,” he agrees, though his eyes darken. He takes your chin between his thumb and forefinger, tilting your head toward his. “Wouldn’t wanna take that back, anyways. Not in a million years.”

Not when you’re his. 

This time, when Sanemi recaptures your lips with his, it is slower; more sensual. His tongue slides seamlessly into your mouth, languidly stroking yours.

Raw desire, sharp and electric, shoots between your thighs when Sanemi moans again. Despite the neediness of his lips, his touch, Sanemi quickly recovers some of his self-confidence, the excitement of his kiss giving way into something more measured, more fervent that already has you panting for more. 

Oh, he’s far too good at making you melt. 

Large, warm hands skirt down the back of your thighs, gripping you under your legs. You gasp when the floor disappears from beneath you as Sanemi easily carries you deeper into the kitchen.

The pizza baking in the oven goes forgotten as Sanemi sets you on the ledge of your counter, his hands sliding up your sides, bunching the fabric of your shirt between his fingers.

The warmth of his hands makes you gasp and arch into him, and he huffs a quiet laugh against your lips.

“Yeah? You want me to touch you?” He teases, pausing only to trace the tip of your nose with his, before he leans back in. “Tell me where.”

You’d love to, except the greedy asshole’s greedier lips are right back on yours, and you don’t have the willpower to argue. You sigh into him, and Sanemi’s tongue sweeps easily into your mouth, flicking against yours. 

Those damn hands of his manage to sneak beneath your t-shirt again. “Mmm. Here?” He teases when you arch, his thumbs brushing along a sensitive part of your waist that makes you squirm.

He kneads against your ribs. “How ‘bout here?”

Your nails scratch the nape of his neck in warning. “Sanemi —“

Those devilish fingers of his inch higher beneath your shirt until he’s cupping your bare breasts. 

“My bad. Here, right?” He smirks, catching your lower lip between his teeth. 

He palms at your chest until you’re whimpering into his mouth. The tender, swollen ache of your breasts is soothed by Sanemi’s clever touch as he teases you with alternating flicks and pinches. He breaks your kiss to whisper your name, each syllable dripping with a reverence that makes you feel damn near sacred. He murmurs it again and again as his lips trail down your cheek, your jaw, his hands pushing your t-shirt higher and higher —

The oven timer buzzes. 

Your head snaps toward the sound, hands fluttering against his chest in a reluctant effort to push him away, but he pays you no mind. Sanemi’s lips are still teasing under your jaw as he grips your chin between his thumb and forefinger and turns your head back toward him. 

He silences your building protest with another kiss. “Let it burn,” his teeth nip at your bottom lip. “We’re busy.”

You give into the persuasion of his lips for a moment, too greedy for his kiss. But the beep of the timer seems to grow louder by the second, and you find yourself too distracted by its noise to continue ignoring. 

“‘Nemi,” you murmur between heated kisses. There’s a low vibration in the back of Sanemi’s throat in response, something akin to a growl of approval at the way you shorten his name. His hold on your waist tightens as he pulls you harder into him. “The oven —“

His tongue licks at the roof of your mouth before his lips break away from yours. “Fuck the oven,” he moans before he claims your lips again, his kiss every bit as needy and possessive as touch. 

He can’t fathom stopping now — not when you feel so damn good in his hands, not when he’s so giddy that he gets to keep you all to himself, selfishly.

He feels like a teenager again, feels that same excited flutter in his stomach he used to get from sneaking off with girls between classes to make out, to let hands explore under shirts in the dark corners of abandoned classrooms or under the bleachers, more thrilled by the prospect of being caught than of actually succeeding in getting into one another’s pants. Only now, Sanemi’s got the girl of his dreams moaning with a few clever movements of his fingers as he explores your mouth with his tongue, your hands just as greedy as they roam the planes of his chest and tug at his hair.

He’s about to suggest moving to your bed, eager to continue because he can, you’re actually his --

A loud rumble from deep within your stomach slices between you like a knife. Sanemi’s hands freeze, right atop your bare breasts. 

A beat passes, and then he murmurs against your lips, “when did you last eat?”

Before you can feed him your bullshit, he adds, “a real meal.”

You fiddle with the ends of his hair, wincing. “…Last night?” 

Even if you could protest, could claim that you weren’t all that hungry, your traitorous stomach roars again. You snatch your hands away from him, pressing them to your middle as though you can silence the way your belly gurgles with hunger.

Busted.

“Sorry,” you mutter, too mortified to meet his eyes. “Ignore that, we can keep going –”

“I’m not competing with your stomach. If I’m gonna have you moaning, I want to hear you.” Sanemi kisses the tip of your nose and untangles himself from you, dragging his fingers teasingly along the bare skin of your thighs before he steps back entirely. “’Sides, you need to eat.” 

You rub a hand over your grumbling belly. “It’s not that bad –” 

“You’re an ass when you’re hungry.”

You can’t fight him on that, no matter how your cheeks warm. Sanemi has experienced your hungered wrath far too many times. Still part of you itches to wipe that triumphant smugness right off his face as he dons one of your frilly, thrifted oven mitts and fishes the pizza out of the oven.

—

Once he’s ensured you’ve eaten enough and washed your dishes, Sanemi sets to work on your bed, righting the mess he’d made of your covers. The moment everything is back in its place, even the obnoxious throw pillows you’d hurled at his head, he turns to you, expectant. 

“Well?” He pats your newly remade bed. “Come on. You said you don’t feel well, so get over here and rest.” 

For once, you don’t fight him, nor do you so much as attempt to snark back at him for trying to boss you around. You simply slink back to your bed and flop down without a shred of grace or care. 

Sighing, Sanemi kicks off his shoes and slides in behind you. Admittedly, when he’d played out the number of ways tonight could go in his head, he hadn’t envisioned nursing you against the debilitating side effects of your period as one of those possibilities. 

Still, Sanemi can’t imagine any place he’d rather be. 

His body fits against yours with ease, and the way his arm winds around your waist feels natural; automatic. For so long, he’d been navigating the world, unaware that something was missing; that he was incomplete. Sure, maybe he’d felt off to some extent — like there was a gap somewhere among his parts, one that he never knew quite how to fill. 

But here, in your bed, his body half-draped over yours, his face, tucked into the crook of your neck, Sanemi finally knows what it means to feel whole. It fills him with such giddiness, such joy, he almost can’t quite figure out what to do with it. There’s a lightness in his chest he’s never felt before, a weightlessness to his limbs. He is floating, and there is nothing to bring him back down to earth; no chain, no binds, no obligations. There is only his desire to be here, with you, however you want him. 

Your hands reach back and latch around his wrist, tugging his arm over you. You then slide his hand beneath your shirt, pressing it flat to your lower belly.

Sanemi smiles against the nape of your neck as you sigh in relief. “What’s that about?”

“You’re warm,” you groan, snuggling back against him. “Heat helps cramps.”

He squeezes you close and presses a kiss against your ear. “Use me as much as you need, then.”

Your soft laugh is intoxicating. Finally, some of the tension in your limbs eases and you relax into him, seemingly having found the right position to quell the throbbing ache in your stomach.  Happiness. This must be happiness. Because here, he finally gets to just be Sanemi. Your Sanemi.

——

For a long while, you lay together in comfortable silence. The fading light streaming through the great, arched windows over your heads is his only measure of time, and soon, the lighting of your apartment dims. Now, there is only the soft, yellow glow of your various lamps and strings of fairy lights that coat your studio, creating a cozy cave he never wants to leave. 

Curled behind you as he is, Sanemi can’t quite tell whether you’ve finally succumbed to sleep. Your breathing is slow, and while you haven’t spoken in a while, you could just as easily be basking in the relaxed comfort of his arms, lingering somewhere in between sleep and consciousness.

It’s how he wishes he could be; at ease, half-heartedly fighting a losing battle to keep his eyes open. But no; Sanemi is wide the fuck awake, his body stiffer than a board.

Despite your tentative relaxedness, you still squirm every so often, 

struggling to find a position that will allow you the most relief from the throbbing ache in your lower stomach.

He doesn’t think you’re doing it intentionally — in fact, he’s almost certain you aren’t. But if you don’t stop grinding your ass against him, Sanemi might just snap.

He’d already had to quietly fight off the pain in his groin after getting hot and heavy with you in the kitchen, before he’d realized he needed to take care of your grumbling stomach at the expense of his blue balls. But here you are now, rotating your perfect ass right into his crotch as he grows harder than a fucking diamond, with no relief from the onslaught of your wiggling in sight.

It just feels cruel.

“Knock it off,” Sanemi finally grumbles into your ear, arms squeezing once around your waist in warning. “You tryin’ to make me cream my pants?”

“It’s not my fault,” you groan miserably. “I can’t get comfortable.”

“Don’t you take meds?”

Another groan. “Already did.”

Sanemi fights the swear building on his tongue. He’s acutely aware that you’re not at fault for the way his traitorous body reacts to your movements, but he finds himself wavering dangerously close to losing mind. Each twisting movement of your ass is barely more than a whisper of the contact he craves and yet somehow, it’s just enough to make his cock throb for more.

It takes a great deal of self-restraint for Sanemi not to grab your hips and grind you back against him properly. But he manages to cling to that fraying thread, almost proud of his astounding commitment to his self-control, when you swivel your ass right against the crotch of his pants, groaning in frustration.

That’s when Sanemi snaps. 

With a disapproving click of his tongue, he flips you to your back and under him. You’re his woman now, after all; that means it’s on him to take care of business. 

“You still got cramps?” He hovers close over you, nose nearly bumping yours.

Wide-eyed and blushing at his proximity, you nod.

“You took your meds already?”

Another nod.

“And they ain’t helping?”

This time, you slowly shake your head.

A smile, a wickedly devious smile, spreads across his lips. “I know what will.”

Sanemi sits back on his knees and grabs a fistful of his shirt. In a single, smooth movement, he yanks it clean over his head. 

“What are you --?” You sit up on your elbows, cheeks heating as your eyes roam the rocky planes of his chest and abdomen. Your mouth waters. “What are you doing?”

Sanemi crawls back over you, shutting you up with another kiss. Before you can break away to repeat yourself, he presses his hips to yours and grinds. 

He’s harder than stone.

Silky lips dance down your chin before sliding to explore your jaw. “Isn’t it obvious?”

“I told you, I’m — oh — on my period!”

“So?”

“So, it’s — it’s — messy!” You stammer, your cheeks turning crimson as Sanemi’s lips continue their heated path down your neck.

He snorts against your collar bone. “You got towels, don’t you?”

The cockiness of his tone stuns you silent. Sanemi huffs in triumph and busies himself with sucking a bruise into your skin, right over your throat.

“Sanemi,” you squirm under his mouth, hands tugging at his hair, though even you don’t know whether you’re trying to command his attention or push him back.

With an annoyed grunt, Sanemi tears his mouth away from your skin to glare at you. “If you want to say no because you’re uncomfortable with it, then we can stop.” And, despite the faint, irritated twist of his mouth, his eyes are sincere. “But if you’re only complaining because you think I’ll mind —“

“I’m not uncomfortable,” you murmur, shyly looking away. “But, Sanemi —“

Your protest is smothered by a warm, firm hand closing over your mouth. Sanemi leans down until his forehead nearly touches yours. “Do you want me to stop?”

You blink up at him. After a moment of hesitation, you slowly shake your head, eyes wide.

“Then shut up.”

His hand slides away from your mouth and skirts down the length of your arm. His fingers close around your wrist and he wraps your arm around his shoulders. 

He leans in to resume attacking your neck with his mouth, descending down your body with heavy, open mouthed kisses. When he reaches your navel, he shifts his hold to your waist and in a single, swift movement, he flips you atop him. 

You gasp into his mouth as you settle against him, his hardening bulge pressing into the apex of your thighs. A deep, gravelly moan vibrates in Sanemi’s throat when you begin pushing your hips down to meet the hardness protruding into you, your movements out of your control. 

For a moment, you remain like that, your body pressed flush to his as you gasp and grind against each other, your kisses little more than a desperate clash of lips and teeth and tongue. Sanemi is the first to break away, his mouth trailing hotly down the column of your throat. 

One arm stretches up the length of your back, his broad hand curling around your shoulder as the arm locked around your waist tightens. His hold on you sufficiently sturdy, Sanemi forces you to grind harder against him, his teeth nipping across your collarbone as you whimper above him. 

The ache between your legs is sharper, more intense than usual; closer to a burning throb than a mere flicker of desire. 

The hand he’d kept on your shoulder slides down your back, his fingers dragging teasingly along your spine until he reaches the waistband of your shorts. He snaps it once, twice, savoring your little jolts each time the elastic bites at your skin, before he pushes below it to grip your bare ass.

Your fingers fly to his hair as he fondles the plush curve of you in his hand, alternating between gentle massages and rough squeezes. Each pleading little mewl that slips past your lips only drives him wilder with need, his cock throbbing where it strains against the seat of his pants. 

He sucks a bruise into the juncture between your neck and shoulder. He will not give in; not yet, not before you beg him for what he’s been itching to give you for the last week. 

With a fierce whine, you circle your own hips, unsuccessfully trying to maneuver his hand away. Your own hand drops from his hair to cup his jaw as you pant against his ear.

He hides his smirk against your collar bone. “You got somewhere you want me to be, Y/N?” He croons, bucking harshly into your clothed center. His fingers dip to the crease between your ass and the top of your thigh, playing dangerously close to where he knows you need him most.

He can feel the heat radiating from you, beckoning him to closer, a beacon meant only for him. “You just gotta ask, Princess. I’m right here, waitin’.” 

“S-Sanemi —“

Without warning, Sanemi sits up, forcing you to scramble to lock your legs around him for support. He scoots to the edge of your bed, his grip on you firm, until his legs drape over its side. With you in his lap, he throws a steadying arm behind him as you sit perched atop his thigh.

“There. Wanted to see you properly.”

He traces the tip of his finger around the tightened bud of your right breast, just over your shirt, eyes bright and crinkled in amusement as you squirm.

It’s not enough; not nearly so.

With a wicked grin, he leans in, resuming his torturously slow exploration of your neck. Your reaction to him is instant, as you grind and squirm atop him, your fingers fisting at his hair. 

But, even he grows tired of this constant teasing. Impatient, he plants one hand at the base of your spine, pressing your body flush against his, while the other slides down your front, his fingers playing with the hem of your top. 

Right now, there’s only one thing – well, two things – he wants, and your damn shirt is getting in his way. 

The moment you shudder against him as his fingers brush the skin below your nazel is the moment he yanks your t-shirt up, revealing your peaked, aching breasts right to his hungry gaze.

He presses its hem to your lips. “Hold this.” 

Your pupils blow wide at the cockiness of his demand. Slowly, you part your lips and allow Sanemi to latch the bottom of your shirt between your teeth.

He gives you only a warning look, a stern narrowing of his eyes that says, don’t even think about dropping it, before he turns his attention back to your chest, pausing to whistle appreciatively at the sight of you, bare before him. 

In addition to being stuck with murderous cramps, one of the other terrible side effects of your period is how damn sore your breasts get. Often, you can hardly stand to wear a bra, the burning ache in your chest damn near unbearable. 

And there his mouth is, so close yet so far. The memory of just how expertly he’d navigated you the last time with his mouth makes your nipples stiffen, adds gasoline to the fire burning hotly in your lower belly. 

With a whimper, you thrust your chest toward him. 

“Oh?” Sanemi raises an eyebrow in mock surprise. Idly, his index finger traces a circle around your right nipple, followed by another. “Sensitive are we?” He smirks. “Looks like you’re achin’ for some attention, sweetheart.” 

His breath fans hotly across one of your stiff nipples, and you swear it throbs as Sanemi exhales against your skin again, teasing.

You could cry. Aching, indeed.

He smirks against your breast. “I can help with that.”

His lips part and Sanemi sucks your breast right into his mouth, groaning between sloppy, wet smacks of his mouth. The ache between your legs intensifies with every suck, every graze of his teeth and flick of his tongue.

“Pretty,” he hums against your nipple, and the vibrations from his mouth make your thighs clench together. He takes the breast not occupied by his mouth into his hand, lavishing it with the same worship as he gives the other, squeezing and rolling it until you’re whimpering over the mouthful of your shirt.

He pulls back, a thin strand of saliva connecting his lips with your nipple that breaks when he speaks. “Prettiest I’ve ever fuckin’ seen, just like the rest of you.”

Sanemi’s mouth is wet and hot as it trails across your sternum, taking your other soft mound into mouth while his hand migrates to the other, his fingers swirling the saliva he’d left behind into your flesh. He pinches your nipple in time with the graze of his teeth over the one sucked between his lips.

It’s too much; the pulsing ache between your legs has grown too riotous, too incessant, and you’re desperate for relief. The muscles of his thigh notched between your legs flex like he knows; baiting you.

You fall for it, hook, line and sinker, just as he wanted, your hips beginning a tentative grind against his leg.

Drool leaks from the corner of your mouth as you find a steady pace, rocking and grinding against him. It soaks the fabric of your shirt as you fight to keep from loosening your jaw. Everything Sanemi is doing feels so fucking good, and you’ll be damned to mess that up for yourself.

There it is again — that familiar knot in your stomach, one that rapidly pulls tighter and tighter the more you circle and grind against his thigh. Through your lashes, you can see Sanemi’s gaze locked heatedly on your face, a ravenous hunger in his eyes.

“You gonna cum just from this, sweetheart?” Despite his attempt at derision, his voice is rougher than gravel. His hands latch around your hips, shifting you until you’re perched right over the rock-hard bulge that has formed beneath the seat of his pants. 

In answer, you grind even harder against him, riding him with abandon as your nails dig into his shoulders. Moaning, Sanemi wraps his lips back around your tender nipple, and soon, he’s bucking up into you with equal fervor, the two of you gasping into one another. 

The hand pressed to your ass squeezes, Sanemi pushing you harder into him. You might just come like this, grinding against his bulge, Sanemi, mouthing hotly at your swollen breasts, tugging and nipping at your skin with his teeth. Everything feels heightened, your senses overwhelmed by him and his mouth until you buzz with the need for more. The knot in your stomach tightens, tightens — 

The stiffened seam of his pants catches your clit at precisely the right angle, and you fall apart. The whine that vibrates in your throat is nothing short of pathetic; a keening little plea as you fist at his hair, pressing his face into your chest while you grind desperately into him.  Your orgasm sweeps over you, both a relief and a taunt; a hollow echo of the release you crave, the high he’d given you that night that you’d pathetically chased since without success.

Sanemi only sucks at you harder. He finally releases you when the last feeble wave washes through, when he feels the tension in your limbs, settle.

“God damn,” he says roughly, imparting a final few flicks of his tongue across your nipple. “That was fuckin’ beautiful.”

With a last, harsh suck, Sanemi’s mouth leaves your sore chest with a soft pop. You barely have time to push the dampened hemp of your shirt from your mouth before the muscles of his arms ripple and flex around you. In an instant, you’re back under him, caged against your mattress by his hulking mass.

It’s thrilling, how easily he manhandles you, his touch firm and assured. Yet, no matter how capable he is of throwing you around — no matter how easily he can overpower those ever bigger and meaner than you  — his gentleness with you never wavers.

Sanemi wastes no time guiding your shirt over your head, throwing it somewhere over his shoulder. His mouth trails after his hands, and faster than you can blink, he rips your shorts down your legs, tossing them carelessly off the side of the bed. 

His fingers slide over the front of your underwear, circling. “There,” he marvels with a satisfied click of his tongue. “You’re fuckin’ soaked.” 

You don’t bother to tell him the wetness he feels might very well be from your period – after all, you’re wearing your speciality underwear, the kind that doesnt’ require you to wear tampons or pads. But you also don’t think Sanemi would care much either way, given how he continues circling your clit, savoring the way your legs spasm and jerk beneath him. 

Moaning, your thighs widen for him and Sanemi continues the languid turn of his fingers. You think he means to make you come again, and it’s embarrassing how quickly your body commits to that effort, but he pulls his hand away. 

Your whine needles some remorse out of him. He ducks to press a sweet kiss against your knee. “Be right back.” 

His weight on your bed lifts, and Sanemi quickly vanishes around the corner of the wall that blocks your bed from the view of the small hallway containing your bathroom, one cabined by your laughably tiny linen closet.

He reappears a few seconds later, one of your towels in hand.

“Hips up,” he orders, motioning for you to lift yourself from the mattress. Wide-eyed, you obey, your heart fluttering in your throat.

“For the record, I don’t care if we use a towel,” Sanemi tells you as he spreads it beneath you, creating a barrier between your body and your blankets. “I’d wash the sheets for ya once we finished. But if you prefer to use it, that’s fine by me.”

His hands guides you back down against the bed and linger once you settle, his fingers teasing along the jut of your hip. “But a period ain’t gonna stop me from helping my girl feel good.” He bends down to seal his promise with his lips against your thigh.

Off the side of your bed, Sanemi straightens, his movements easy and self-assured in every way you aren’t. Keeping his eyes locked with yours, he unbuckles his belt, the click of metal sending an electric current right between your legs. Wordlessly, he shucks his pants and briefs down his legs.

Your mouth runs dry; his cock looks somehow bigger, more imposing than it had that first night. Ramrod straight and leaking, the thick head of him smacking up against his abdomen. 

He pauses in front of you, close enough that you can feel the heat rolling off his body, and yet he maintains the smallest distance between you, holding back just enough to drive you mad.

You want to snap at him; to demand he ease the fire he’d ignited in your blood, to touch you in that way only he knew. But your desire for him makes your mind blank, and though you know your vocabulary is better than most, you can’t remember the words necessary to form your demand.

For Sanemi’s part, his eyes are locked heatedly on your face, alight with the hint of a challenge; baiting you to see how long it will take before you crack. 

His voice is as coarse as gravel. “Come here.”

Normally, you’d balk at his attempts to order you around, and instead offer him some snappy retort or a petulant roll of your eyes. Here, however, Sanemi has the upper hand, and your need is too great to try and wrestle it back from him. 

Careful not to disturb the towel spread so carefully atop your mattress, you rise. Sanemi watches your every movement with a hunger he doubts can ever be fully sated. His fingers find yours, and slowly, he pulls you into him, your chest squishing lightly against his abdomen. 

You gaze up at him through heavy-lidded eyes as his hands slide over your hips, marveling at the silkiness of your skin. With a teasing languidness, he loops his fingers under the band of your underwear, one at a time. Slowly, he drags them down the length of your legs, lowering himself to his knees  as he slides it over your feet. All the while, his gaze remains locked with yours, pressing his lips reverently to the fleshy part above your knee while his hands run up and down your calves. 

Your scent makes his mouth water: a sweet musk, tinged with the faintest trace of iron, and utterly intoxicating. The temptation to lean in and taste the paradise between your thighs is strong, but Sanemi resists. Instead, he rises back to his full height with the same slowness as before, his nose nearly touching yours.  

His eyes drop to your mouth right as your tongue flicks out to wet your lips, and Sanemi descends upon you like a tidal wave.

“Fuck.” He growls, hand closing around the back of your neck as he jerks you forward and crashes his mouth down against yours.

Whatever remained of your self-doubt and uncertainty fizzles under the weight of his intensity.  All at once, you feel like the most alluring creature ever to grace the planet, a temptress worthy of the great epics gathering dust at the store. Sanemi’s kiss is feverish and urgent and all-consuming; he kisses you like a man parched, your lips his only salvation.

Eager hands wrap under your thighs and haul you up, up, up. Your gasp of surprise at your sudden weightlessness is swallowed up by Sanemi’s tongue sweeping into your mouth.  

Down the two of you fall, a breathless heap of tangled limbs and shared moans landing on your bed. This time, your legs part for him without his guidance, and Sanemi settles easily into the cradle of your thighs. 

Only your second time and already, your bodies are moving together like it’s the most natural thing in the world. You’re drawing him in like a magnet, your body his North Star. 

What a fucking idiot he was, to not have realized it sooner.

Your kisses turn sloppy and he feels you draw your legs up, your knees braced against his sides. He hisses as his bare length grazes your wet center, the head radiating from you making him throb.  

He rubs his cock against your damp heat again and again, his nails biting into your sheets as he resists the urge to thrust forward before he’s properly lubricated for you. 

Beneath him, you tense. “N-now?” You squeak, your nails digging into his shoulders as he rubs himself against the slick heat of you.

He almost groans. “Yeah, now.” If he has to wait any longer, he might go insane.

“But — but — don’t you want a condom —?”

Sanemi scowls as he drags his tip up and down your slit before pressing against your entrance. Fuck no, he doesn’t.

“Shhh. What’d I say?” He quells your worrying with a mighty thrust of his hips. The coppery slickness of you mixed with your arousal means there’s no resistance, and so, Sanemi sheathes himself to the hilt inside you in a single, fluid movement. “Shut up and let me take care of you, yeah?”

You answer him with a high-pitched cry, one that almost borders a small scream, and he’s hard-pressed to restrain himself from joining you.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Sanemi grinds out. “Holy shit, sweetheart.”

He thought he’d been close to losing his mind that first time, but the feeling of you now, tighter and hotter than before, and so fucking wet, threatens to untether him from reality all together.

In fact, he realizes as his hips begin moving on their own, he’s likely already lost control. He begins with slow, shallow thrusts, but his movements quickly melt into hard, deep rolls of his hips that are little more than base instinct. He is driven only by the need for more, to push himself as deep as he can possibly go until the two of you fuse together as one.

You’re writhing beneath him, toes curling against your mattress, too overwhelmed by the feeling of him being buried inside you. Not that Sanemi is faring much better. It’s taking him a surprising amount of self-restraint to keep himself from coming right then, too lost in the heaven of your body. 

Amazed that he’s still able to form a coherent thought, he manages to ask, “You still on that pill?”

He has no intentions of using condoms ever again, not after experiencing the euphoria that is your bare pussy. But your answer will determine where he comes.

He feels you nod as your teeth catch his bottom lip, beseeching him for a kiss he’s only happy to oblige. He grunts into you, a needy, guttural sound as he works to set his pace. “You want me to pull out?”

You pause for a moment and then with wide eyes, you slowly shake your head.

Sanemi smiles against your mouth. “Good. Me neither.”

Sure, his rule against having children while still entrenched within the Corps’ operations threatens to go up in smoke, but you’re on birth control. And, as he’s learned, he can’t follow rules for shit when it comes to you.

He nudges your head to the side, burying his face against the exposed length of your neck.

“Jesus Christ,” he inhales deeply, mouth pressed to your skin. “I fuckin’ missed you.”

For the past week, his body has been rebelling against him, too restless to sleep, to think, to do anything but roar its discontent with him. But here, buried to the hilt inside you as he is, a calmness trickles through his veins, steadying him, bringing him back into himself.

He should’ve known, he thinks as he rolls his hips with yours, working to set his pace. It’s you. It has always been you.

Beneath him, you fare no better, just as overwhelmed by your reunion with his body as he is with yours. That burning stretch is still there, just as it had been that first night, but it’s nowhere near as sharp as it had been then. Still, it takes a moment to adjust to his intrusion, despite how ready you’d been to receive him. After all, Sanemi is on the larger end of the scale; not that you have anything in particular to compare him to. But his cock is a little longer than the length of your hand, and thick. 

And god, does he know how to use it. No wonder he’s so insufferably smug all the time. He’d earned his bragging rights a hundred times over.

You’re both panting, his forehead pressed to yours as your noses bump together. Your fingers twist in his hair, desperate to find an anchor the more Sanemi threatens to to send you over the edge of your sanity.

You try, bless you, to meet his movements, your hips tentatively jerking to meet his thrusts, to help him plunge deeper.

Your effort makes him melt. “Just let me do all the work, sweetheart.” He coos, pressing you firmly into your bed, limiting your movements with his weight. “You ain’t gotta do a thing but take it.”

Truth be told, Sanemi is dreaming of the day you’ll ride him. In addition to reminiscing how fucking good your pussy tastes, Sanemi also hasn’t been able to stop thinking about how you will look perched atop him, your hips rolling and dropping frantically against his, tits bouncing. But right now, you’re the one who needs to be taken care of, and he’s more than happy (if not downright insistent) that he’s the man for the job.

You give into him easily, sinking into the mattress and letting your legs spread wider, relaxed. Sanemi smothers his throaty hum of approval into your neck, sucking and biting his claim into your skin.

The air between you grows thick with the scent of iron and sex, clouding his head and further loosening whatever hold he pretends to have over the monstrous, feral thing inside him. The one that only wants to pin you down and take you harder, rougher, until you can’t fathom being anything else but his.

He’s only able to cling onto that last bit of self-control because he’s so focused on you, all too aware of your limits. Those big, watery eyes of yours are pools he can drown in, and the wobble in your lower lip as he hits deeper nearly drives him insane. God, he can’t believe he denied himself of this for so long – of you, of the privilege of taking care of you, of making you cry out his name and beg for more.  

“God, you’re perfect.” He moans out in praise. “You’re fuckin’ perfect.” 

Though it’s only your second time, your bodies slide together like it’s the most natural thing in the world; easier than breathing. You are an extension of him as much as he is of you, and he can’t even chalk it up to his eye for detail. The observations he’d made of you last time had nothing to do with survival. It was instinctual. Sanemi hadn’t needed to work to memorize you; he’d known you the second your skin met his. 

It’s this familiarity that guides him now, Sanemi’s lips and teeth and hands finding every spot that makes you moan, gasp, bite your lip until it nearly bleeds while you scratch at him and urge him closer. 

Though he’s admittedly half-fucked out of his mind with euphoria as you clench and pulse around him, Sanemi does note that some of your uncertainty toward your own body has returned. Your hands drift from his hair to his face before dropping to clutch at his shoulders. As Sanemi’s movements gain momentum, making you bounce against the mattress, your nails lightly – hesitantly – crest into his skin.

He chuckles against the shell of your ear. “You can cling to me as much as you want, darlin’. I don’t mind.” He rolls his hips more purposefully this time, the arm around your waist tightening, forcing you to arch harder into him. “I’ll take good care of my girl.”

His knees shift forward and Sanemi pulls back to study you. It’s hard to know where to rest his eyes; you look fucking incredible under him like this, hair fanned out, framing your head like a halo; your breasts, peaked and mouthwateringly full, bouncing perfectly in time with his movements.

But it’s your face that catches his attention; the way you tug your bottom lip between your teeth, coupled with how your inner walls flex around him, as though in answer, your pupils blown wide with desire.

His free arm pushes under your knee and your pretty mouth falls open at deepening the reach of his cock. “You like it when I call you that, huh? My girl.”

Tears cling to your eyelashes. You manage only a hurried, jerky nod of your head, incapable of making any sound more intelligent than a few whimpers.

“Yeah?” And he pins you down harder into the mattress with a snarl, his arm pressing your leg nearly to your shoulders. “Good, ‘cause you are.” 

The lewd squelching of Sanemi’s cock bullying relentlessly against your swollen, aching walls grows louder. He untangles his arm from under your leg to move above your head, bracing his weight on his fist where it’s balled into the mattress. He uses his new position to increase the force of his thrusts, his legs straightening out behind him, his feet digging into the bed as he draws his cock nearly all the way out of your heat, before plunging right back in.

“And this is all mine, too, isn’t it?” A free hand wedges between your bodies, Sanemi slapping lightly at your clit. You cry out as he repeats the action again, but when he presses down at the next contact of his fingers and circles them, a howl of his name rips free.

He tucks his dark chuckle into your throat, his teeth nipping just above where your pulse flutters. “Yeah, it is. ‘Cuz you’re my girl. My good fuckin’ girl.”

Your cunt clenches around him in steady pulses, every fleck of your slick warmth fogging his brain. It’s unreal, the way you respond to the filth pouring from his mouth. It nearly drives him insane; here he is, someone who has only ever known hell, yet he’s managed to steal away his own piece of heaven. 

Rough fingers tighten around your hip, pulling you harder to meet him. Sheer desire may have clouded his head in those first moments, his delight in getting to have you making him over-eager to get you naked, but the fog is rapidly dissipating. Instead, as he moves, Sanemi’s dizzying pleasure becomes edged by solemnity. 

Sure, sex has always been an easier way to work through emotions he wasn’t allowed to feel, but that sort of self-distraction can’t fly anymore. Not with you; not when you mean everything.

He was your first and he wants to be your last. Your only.

None of this is temporary; he hadn’t told you he was all in until he got bored, or until one of the thousand reasons couples break up came along to give him the first pass to skip town. He didn’t attach any strings to that key. You need to know. You need to know how fucking serious he is about this. You. 

But in case any ambiguities remain, let him clear them up now.

“Can’t believe I wasted all that fuckin time on the others when I could’ve had you. You used to smile at me, you remember that?” Sanemi draws his hips back, leaving only the tip of his cock inside before slamming back into you. “When we were in school. Used to make me go dumb in the head when ya did.”

The wet, sticky squelching where your bodies connect only grows louder as Sanemi increases his pace. “And then I’d see you smile at others and it drove me nuts. But then I realized you were smilin’ special for me — and not just because you were bein’ polite. You meant it.”

He tucks his head into the crook of your neck, his mouth sucking a harsh bruise into your skin that he soothes with his tongue. “Should’ve made you mine back then.” He growls, and below him, you tense. “Should’ve made you my girl and taken you far away from here. Might’ve even become a better man, if I had. I would’ve, if I’d known. That you were fuckin’ made for me — fuck!” Sanemi throws his head back as you squeeze tighter around him.

He drops his gaze back down to your face. Though your eyes are glassy with pleasure, there’s recognition there, an understanding that parts your lips as the weight of his words settles.

I would’ve wanted you, then. 

Judging by the dent that appears between your eyebrows, he knows his silent confession isn’t lost on you, even as a sharp cry tears from your throat. 

Sanemi leans down and kisses you, roughly, in confirmation. “And I don’t just mean your body,” he breaks away from your lips with a pant. “You were fuckin’ made for me. Wish I’d known it back then.”

He gives a sharp twist of his hips on his next plunge in, making you bow away from the bed and into him with a cracked moan. But Sanemi lets his weight press you right back down, your bodies rolling together as one.

There’s a limberness to your body that hadn’t been there that first time; a relaxedness in your limbs now that you know what to expect, one that has you opening your thighs a little wider, an invitation for him to hit deeper that he’s only too happy to accept. 

“Oh fuck — that’s it, baby. Yes.” He can’t be bothered to feel embarrassed by the way his voice strains as he shouts, “Fuck!”

As tight as you’d been when he’d first entered you, nothing compares to the way you’re squeezing his cock, now. You’ve sharpened the arch in your spine, smushing your breasts into his chest as you offer him to take more and more. So firm is the hold of your body over his, that Sanemi finds it increasingly difficult to thrust, and he resigns himself instead to holding hard by the hips and grinding. 

A too familiar tingle at the base of his spine prickles. He going to come and soon, and that’s unacceptable. His entire sexual history has been predicated on two rules: no unprotected encounters and no cumming before his partner.

He’d thrown the first rule to the wind with enthusiastic ease; but he’ll be damned if he starts reneging on the second. Not when he’s promised to take care of you.

Sanemi’s hand unlatches from its place above your hip to push between your bodies. Your eyes roll back into your head and your jaw goes slack when his thumb finds your aching clit and swirls, coaxing you to relax into the bed and ease some of your iron-tight grip.

“S — San —“ you try, but whatever thought you’re trying to string together dies in your throat under a keening wine as Sanemi shallowly thrusts into you.

He grits his teeth. Not enough; he’s still too damn close. His balls have become painfully tight, and the electric prickle he feels has bled into his stomach, forming a know that’s becoming tauter by the second.

He won’t be able to hold off for much longer.

“C’mere, baby.” He manages with a croak. “Need ya to cum for me.” And with some remorse, he withdraws his hand. It joins the other in smoothing down the sides of your thighs, bending each leg at your knee. “Keep ‘em up. I’m gonna get real deep, okay?” 

He anchors himself against your sheets and settles. The adjustment pushes him deeper inside your warmth and a small moan escapes your mouth. Sanemi begins rocking into you, gentle at first, but gradually faster. “Might feel a bit strange, but I need ya to trust me. I’ll take care of you.” 

Knees nearly to your chest, you nod. Tentative whimpers soon melt into steady cries that pace with his movements. Before long, your hips are rolling up and away from the bed with his, your toes curling in the air.

The hand he has braced next to your head fists at your sheets. This new position means you’re even tighter than before, and the extra slickness from your period has him bumping up against all the right places in record time. 

Below, you squirm and claw at him, but your moans only grow louder as Sanemi continues to reach deeper within your swollen, tender walls, searching for the spot he knows will have you unraveling.

“S-Sanemi,” you whine, your nails digging into the corded muscles of his back

“I know you’re feelin’ sensitive, baby, but you’ll feel better if you cum. Can you do that for me?”

Eager to ease you into agreement, he rewards you with a trail of slow, open-mouthed kisses down your neck. The knot in his stomach tightens, but Sanemi resists; his self-control used to be a source of pride, and he’s determined to cling onto whatever thread of it remains.

Thankfully, you flutter and clench around him, a broken moan lilting out of you in answer.

Relief courses through him. “Yes, baby — that’s it. Shit.” His eyes squeeze shut and he focuses on the sharp sting of your nails raking down his back, willing the pain to ground him as he fights off his own orgasm. “You’re close, aren’t you? I can feel it.”

He hasn’t dared forget how it feels when you’re at your breaking point; sweet, slick walls pulsing and clenching wildly around him, every muscle in your body strung tight as you wait for that coil in your gut to spring.

It’s all he’s thought about for the last eleven days.

And when you confirm with a jerky, frantic nod, Sanemi leans in and presses his lips to your forehead. “Let’s make it a big one, yeah?”

Without waiting for a response, Sanemi drops his head to the pillow below. Slowly, he allows his weight to sink into you, pushing him further into your warmth. You cry out when his tip kisses a spot deep within you, a slight tinge of pain sparking through your lower abdomen that intensifies when he hits it again and again. Your nails rake down his back and tears well hot and fast in your eyes as Sanemi begins rutting hard and fast into you, no sound leaving your mouth but a series of strangled, choked gasps.

It hurts, the way he hammers away at that spot. You can’t deny it. But it also feels so fucking incredible that you can’t fathom him stopping now. Ever.

He churns harshly with every brutal snap of his hips, the coarse, rough hairs of his base scraping right against your clit, until that coil behind your navel cinches impossibly tight.

“Sanemi —“ you squeak, but nothing else follows, save a single, choked gasp.

It’s over and he knows it.

“Go on, sweetheart.” His voice husky and warm, murmuring in your ear. “Show me who you belong to.”

That’s all it takes; with a guttural gasp, you seize around him like a vice. Your limbs tense even as a warmth bursts deep from within your stomach. 

Your first orgasm with him had been powerful; this one is a cataclysm.

Climax rips through you like a hurricane; an explosion of pleasure that fractures you apart, shatters you into hundreds of fractals that all sing one name until your throat burns. 

Sanemi only fucks you harder.

Everything falls away; the industrial iron piping on your ceiling, the faint golden glow of the fairy lights woven around your headboard, even the rough fabric of the towel spread beneath you. All of it fades to white as you freefall into an endless ocean that’s precisely the color of the eyes you love most. 

Thick fingers close around your jaw, urging your face towards his. Far away, in the deep throes of your own ecstasy, you hear his soft whisper of your name, a string tugging you through the waves. You follow it all the way back to where you lie, sandwiched between your bed and his body. Through pleasure-bleary eyes, you find him watching you with a hunger that only intensifies the harder you come around him.

Somehow, despite the fact he has now seen every inch of your undressed body, the way his eyes hold yours has you feeling stripped to the bone. Beneath his ravenous, dark gaze, you are flayed open, no part of you left hidden. Truly naked. 

He has to see it, you think even as you continue to wail his praise. He has to, spread beneath him as you are. He has to know every corner of you bears his name. 

A brutal snap of his hips sends Sanemi’s cock right into that wonderfully painful place, your back arching hard off the bed as another great wave picks you up and slams you against the shore that is him. Tears leak from the corners of your eyes as you continue to sob from the force of your orgasm until finally, the tide recedes, sending you plummeting back to the mess of blankets below.

Sanemi’s arms catch you before you land. 

He lets your legs drop from his shoulders and replaces them with your arms. Though limp, you manage to summon your residual strength to tighten your hold around his neck, clinging to him.

Satisfied, no longer does Sanemi try and hold back his ragged moans and grunts as he chases his release. Not that he’d given much of a shit about it before, but Sanemi finds that he really can’t muster one now.

His hands curl around the edge of your mattress above your head, Sanemi using his grip for leverage, deepening the reach of his cock until he can’t tell where you end and he begins.

“Oh fuck — oh fuck —“ Sanemi can’t stop the filth pouring from his mouth as the familiar prickle at the base of his spine grows hotter, more electric. 

He’s going hard; the entire bed creaks and rocks with the force of his movements, the bedposts rhythmically knocking up against your wall with pronounced thumps.  “Fuck, I’m gonna come — baby, I’m gonna come —“

Beneath him, your moans have resumed though they now carry the faint cadence of a whimper. Somewhere, in the back of his pleasure-addled mind, Sanemi knows you’re probably overstimulated, but his pace only increases. He can’t stop, doesn’t want to stop, not when he’s so fucking close, not when it’s been so fucking long —

Unintentionally, you graze the raised skin of his brand, and Sanemi tosses his head back, hissing in approval. More, he wills, fucking into you harder. Do it more, carve your own claim into him. The Corp’s mark doesn’t mean shit to him, now.

Whether you understand the bruising demands of his hips or whether you’re simply reacting to their quick, hard snaps, you comply, your hands raking down his spine, Another powerful thrust throws your arm up his back, and you fumbles for purchase right in the dip between his shoulders.  

Gasping, you sink your nails right into his mark, and Sanemi loses control. 

With one last mighty push of his hips, Sanemi comes undone with a roar, his balls flush against your ass as his climax slams into him.

A strangled cry of your name is all he can manage before stars explode behind his eyelids. His jaw slackens, and his lower body moves on its own, his hips canting as his release barrels through him and into you, hot and thick. He’d sworn the first time he finished in you had been the hardest he’d ever came in his life. But then, your legs jerk around his waist, your shins locking together at the base of his spine as your thighs squeeze his hips, and his vision goes white.  

For someone who has spent most of his sexually active years doggedly refusing to consider the idea of barebacking any of his former partners, Sanemi has a bitch of a time trying to remember why that is. Because nothing, not a goddamn thing at all, will ever compare to this. 

Below him, you begin to mewl and whine, your hands clawing lightly at his chest in an effort to push him away. A voice blooms in the back of his head, a faint reminder that you’re likely overstimulated to the point of discomfort.

But it just feels too fucking good.

“Sorry, sweetheart, I’m still —“ Sanemi struggles against the deep groan vibrating in his throat as he continues to fuck you through his release. “Not — ngh — not done yet —“

He shifts, allowing his full weight to sink into you and still your squirming. He pushes your arms away from him, his hands wrapping around your biceps, pinning you down in place.

If you truly wanted him off, Sanemi would have obeyed, regardless of how badly he wanted to finish coming inside you. But though he has you held down, you still manage to rock your hips with his, your walls pulsing around him as his cum continues to fill you.

His cock twitches one last time, leaving Sanemi lightheaded and trembling as he finally finishes spending himself in you. “Jesus fuckin’ Christ,” he drops his forehad against yours, panting. “You got me fuckin’ shaking.” 

He unlatches his grip from your biceps in favor of bracing his forearms against your mattress, mindful to ease his full weight off you. Your fingers sweep through his hair, your other hand resting against the side of his neck, scratching at him until his eyes flutter open to reveal you craning your head up, a silent request for his kiss.

Sanemi obliges, and once he starts, he can’t stop. He doesn’t break the connection of your lips even as he pulls out, soothing your responding wince with a flick of his tongue. He stretches out on his side next to you, no room between your bodies as his arm nestles in the valley between your breasts, his hand cupping your cheek, kissing you all the while.

He lays with you like that for several moments until wetness graces his cheeks. Sanemi pulls back to see tears sliding down your face, more clinging to your eyelashes like tiny, glittering jewels. 

Worry, hot and frantic, surges in his gut. “Hey, hey,” he kisses away the tracks staining your cheeks. “Was that okay? Was I too rough?”

You shake your head, turning it away from him to face your ceiling, your hand wiping tiredly at your eyes. “Not at all. I feel better – so much better. Less achy.” You roll your head back toward him, your eyes still watery but bright. “It’s just that – that was so fucking good. I didn’t expect it.”

That does little to assuage some of his concern. “What, it wasn’t good last time?”

You roll your eyes. “Not what I’m saying. I mean, I know I’m more sensitive than usual on my period. I’ve used toys before to help, but nothing has ever reduced me to tears from how good it felt.”

Instantly, his anxiety is washed away with a surge of pride that wells in his chest; a smugness that comes from the knowledge he’d fucked you so well you cried, but he keeps his boasts to himself.

Instead, Sanemi snorts. “Told ya I’d take care of you.”

You click your tongue, fidgeting as another gush of his cum leaks out of you. “Feels like you needed to be taken care of, too.”

“Haven’t jacked off in almost a week. Too much shit goin’ on.” He frowns before adding, “Plus, you’re all I wanted. My hand couldn’t compare to you.”

You roll your head back to face your ceiling, your eyes sliding closed and a blissful smile spreading across your lips. A smile that makes Sanemi’s own mouth part, his eyes growing wide, his cheeks, warm.

He doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to your beauty.

Sanemi settles back down next to you, his body slightly lower on the bed than yours. He remains on his side, eyes tracing every detail of your serene expression as he presses kisses along your bare shoulder.

Moments pass, or maybe hours, and still, Sanemi does not tear his eyes away from you. Eventually, your breathing slows under his adoring gaze, and Sanemi knows you’re moments away from sleep.

He whispers your name and you crack an eye open. “You feel up for a shower?”

Sleepily, you nod, but you make no effort to rise from the plush comfort of your bed.

Sanemi sighs through his nose. “Need some help?”

“My legs don’t work anymore.” You can’t hold back your giggle as you roll to watch Sanemi shake his head at you before rising, his hand rumpling his hair. The blankets fall away from his lower hips, giving you a premium view of the world-class ass of Sanemi Shinazugawa, and you can’t help but smirk at the faint, red crescent marks dotting his skin, left behind by your nails. But the remnants of your post-sex haze dissipate the moment Sanemi and turns back to you, revealing the extent of the mess you’d left behind.

You blanch; his groin and cock are both covered in a sticky redness, a residue of your period blood mixed with both your cum and his.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” Your hands flail as you try and wipe away all traces of blood from his groin and his softening cock, desperate to erase the evidence before he can see, before he can be disgusted by it, by you —

“Hey, hey — watch it —“ he growls as you brush your hand against his overly-sensitive cock. Sanemi’s hand snatches your wrist away from him, halting you mid-air. “Cut it out.”

Your cheeks burn with shame. “But —“

“Will ya stop worrying about it?” His fingers loosen around your wrist, and you retract your arm. “Look — see —“

Sanemi swipes his own hand through the mess you’d left behind and holds it up, your blood smeared on his fingers. “I don’t give a fuck. Kinda hot, actually.”

There is a mess of pink between your thighs, a combination of crimson mixed with his white that leaks out of you, staining your skin and the towel beneath you. He knows he’s wanton because he can’t stop thinking about how fucking pretty your pussy is. 

Especially when it’s covered with him.

His tongue flicks out to wet his lips. “Definitely hot. And you’re gonna let me have a taste next time.”

Your thighs press together at the very obvious hunger in his stare. “Sorry my period interfered with your oral fixation.”

“Didn’t interfere with shit. When I say ‘next time’ I mean, next time you’re on it.”

You gape at him. “You’re not serious –”

“Very.”

Heat creeps up your neck. “Sanemi, it’ll be bloody –”

“I told you, I don’t give a shit. Only reason I didn’t do it tonight was ‘cuz I was worried you might stroke out.” He shoots you a naughty wink. “I’m still breakin’ you in, after all.”  

The smugness in his tone ignites a fire in your cheeks, but before you can respond, the bed and blankets disappear from beneath you.

“C‘mon,” Sanemi grunts as he gathers you up in his arms. “Let’s get cleaned up.”

—

There is a stark contrast between sleeping with Sanemi Shinazugawa and showering with him. 

Moments before, he’d been committed to fucking you senseless, seemingly not satisfied until you were reduced to a soggy, pleasure-drunk mess, only capable of gasping his name in stilted syllables. 

None of that ferocity is present here, under the warm spray of the shower. Instead, Sanemi’s touch is soft, almost hesitant, as his arms encircle you, locking you in against his chest. His hand finds your face, and then his lips, and you melt into him. His kiss is not the passionate, possessive clash of tongue and teeth that it had been only moments before; this time, it is gentle. Chaste.

Any doubts which might have lingered in you as to the status of your relationship with him are quickly washed away, sliding down your legs with the water before mixing with the bubbles that slip down the drain. This is not a speck of softness marooned among an oasis of lust; this is not a temporary moment of affection between two people desperate to know it. 

This is intimacy.

It is tenderness which warms Sanemi’s eyes as his mouth breaks from yours, that turns them into twin pools of amethyst as he brushes a wet strand of your hair away from your face. It’s adoration; a vulnerability he’d never dare show to just a hookup. This — he — is meant for you and you alone. And it is that silent understanding which passes between you that your hand moves to lay against his cheek, parrroting his gentle touch. And it is what makes you surge up boldly on your toes, your mouth slanting over his once more.

—-

By the time Sanemi wrenches your bathroom door open sometime later, allowing the steam from the shower to billow out into the open area of your studio, both of your fingers have turned wrinkly. He wagers you would’ve stayed in there longer, had your hot water supply not run out, your shower head dousing you both with water he reckons was dangerously close to freezing. 

He’s the first to step out, though only because your bathroom is laughably small. He’s lucky the two of you managed to stand comfortably in your tub, but he doesn’t think that good fortune extends to you both drying off in the narrow space between your toilet, counter, and tub. Better he peel away now, and avoid starting a fight because you can’t mind your elbows.

Sanemi pads back to the bathroom, towel looped around his waist. “Took care of the towel on the bed. Threw it in the wash.” On cue, you hear the familiar click of your washing machine as it settles into its cycle. “Nothin’ got on your sheets, but I know some people can be picky. You okay sleeping on ‘em?”

“It’s fine,” you call from the bathroom. “Can you do me a favor? Top drawer of my dresser — there’s a row of black underwear. Throw me a pair?”

He returns a moment later, smirking as you hover in your bathtub, wrapped in an overlarge towel, waiting for him to bring you your panties. Like some internal code of decency prevents you from traipsing around your apartment in your towel like he does, even though he’s seen every inch of your body.

You emerge from the bathroom a moment later, still wrapped in your towel, right as Sanemi fishes something dark from its place on your floor.

He tosses his shirt to you. “You can wear that to bed, if you want. Not that you’ll hear me complain if you decide to sleep naked.” He shoots you a wink as he towels his hair. Pride wells in his chest at the sight of you slipping his tee over your head, and it soothes that hot, possessive streak within him. “Hope you don’t mind if I do, though. I’m not big on puttin’ dirty clothes back on after I’ve showered.” 

“You’re —?” The surprise in your tone stills his hands, and he lifts his head. “Are you staying?” 

Sanemi quirks an eyebrow at you. He’d thought it obvious he was, given the shower and how you’re now wearing his shirt. He studies you for a moment, notes how your hands twist together and the anxious shift of your weight from foot to foot.

A sudden sobriety settles over him. Of course; you’ve said you’d never been in a relationship before, which means all of this — having him over, showering with you, and sleeping in your bed — is brand new. As ready and committed as he is to you, perhaps this is all too much, too fast. It’s only natural for you to want to hit the brakes; to feel out this unfamiliar road. 

“I don’t have to.” Embarrassment creeps up his neck. “We can slow this down, if that’s what you want. I’m not in any rush.”

Dumbass, he chides at himself. Granted, this is new territory for him as well. He at least thought his years of rotating partners in and out of his bed would’ve meant he had some tact, but here he is, jumping the gun. 

Your eyes widen in alarm. “N-no! That’s not what I meant. I want you to stay -- I do. I just didn’t want you to think you had to.” 

He can see how your cheeks darken as he draws near, can see the bob of your throat as you keep your eyes firmly glued to his, a concerted effort to keep from looking down, as though you haven’t seen, touched, felt every inch of his nudity. 

A small smirk settles at the corner of his mouth. 

Silently, Sanemi takes your chin between his thumb and index finger, keeping your face tilted up towards his. He leans in and feels your eyelashes flutter against his nose in anticipation of his kiss. 

Only millimeters separate your lips when he pauses. “Who else is gonna slobber all over me ‘til I fall asleep?”

Your eyes fly open. “Y-you—! I —!” 

He silences your indignant sputtering with a quick peck to your lips. “Yeah, I’m stayin’. That key wasn’t just some empty gesture, idiot.”

You smack his chest half-heartedly, but laugh as you kiss him again. “Just get back in bed. I’ll make tea.” 

Sanemi steps back with a cheeky smirk and lets his towel drop to the floor. “Yes ma’am.”

He must know your eyes are glued to his ass as he walks away, for he offers you a little wiggle as he retreats back to your bed.

“Don’t forget to pick your jaw up off the ground, sweetheart.” He calls smoothly over his shoulder, focused on meticulously peeling back the covers of your bed, layer by layer. “Can’t make tea if you’re drooling everywhere.”

Rolling your eyes, you disappear behind the half wall of your kitchenette. Maybe you should kick him out, naked ass and all. 

Out in the main area, Sanemi has settled back into bed, his arms folded behind his head.

“There’s another reason it took me so long to see you, you know,” Sanemi stares up at the black pipes striped across the high ceilings of your apartment as you busy yourself with the kettle in the kitchen. “I went to see my brother.”

“Genya?” You poke your head out from the doorway. You disappear only when the kettle beeps, mugs clinking together as you pull them from one of your cabinets.

“Yeah.”

You reemerge a moment later, two steaming cups of tea clutched delicately in each hand. “He doesn’t live with you, right? He’s someplace far from here?”

Carefully, you set the mugs on your small bedside table. You crawl back into bed beside him, Sanemi’s arms opening to allow you to settle in against him, your head coming to rest against his pectoral.

“He’s enrolled in a boys’ boarding school.” He puffs his chest out in pride. “A damn good one, too.”

Boarding school. You’d known that Genya attended school in another city, and spent most of his time there at Sanemi’s insistence, but you’d assumed he’d had his brother stay with a friend or a local family.

Now, you think of Sanemi, with his patched-up leather jacket and worn boots; of the apartment you know he keeps in the Silo that he never lets you visit, and try and square that with the Sanemi who pays for his brother’s private education. “Do I want to know how you manage to afford boarding school tuition?”

“He’s on scholarship — wasn’t hard to get, considering our family’s finances. Found the proof easily enough.” Sanemi stares off into the empty space of your apartment with a shrug. “But I also started saving as soon I started makin’ money. The minute I had enough put aside, I sent Genya away. Paid for his uniforms and school stuff. I send him cash every month now so he can do extracurriculars and shit. I want ‘im socializing. The more friends he makes, the more connections he’s got.”

Sanemi’s voice then softens. “The more chance that he’ll stay far away from here, y’know?”

You trace your index finger along one of the jagged, silvery scars that cuts across his chest. “Was this before or after your father died?”

“Tch. After.” Sanemi snorts. “The old man’s death was never reported to the cops, so there ain’t a death certificate for him. I forged his signature on the transfer paperwork.” He thinks before adding, “had someone I know get me the paperwork to become Genya’s legal guardian, once I hit eighteen. Not like it changed all that much. It’s always been me ‘n him, even before our old man bit it.”

A year ago, you hadn’t imagined Sanemi Shinazugawa was capable of anything other than brash self-service. He’d been so good at pretending to care about nothing, acting as if the only thing keeping him tethered to this world was a heart that refused to quit beating.

Time and again, Sanemi has proven that his actions are far louder than even his most obnoxious words. While he shrouds himself in arrogance, it’s a cloak that’s flimsy, at best. Once again, all it takes is a little effort, a little more initiative, to see what lies beneath it. 

Under the beast’s mask lies the endless beauty that makes up Sanemi Shinazugawa: all his selflessness, all his fierce love and devotion. So gentle, so pure, and so worthy of the love he won’t let himself believe he deserves.

Emotion prickles behind your eyes. As if anyone on earth could be more worthy than him. 

“‘Sides, I like havin’ someone to fuss after. Reminds me that some part of me is still human.” He continues, oblivious to the way your throat works to swallow around the lump lodged in your airways. “Now, I’ve got two people I get to care about.”

His hand holds up yours and he turns it over in his palm, admiring the shape of your fingers; the softness of your skin. He smiles and it’s the most devastatingly beautiful thing you’ve ever seen. “I’m pretty fuckin’ lucky, if you ask me. All things considered.”

Your silence shakes him out of his indulgent appreciation of your hand. But when his eyes find yours again, it’s his turn to be stunned silent. 

You’re doing it again — looking at him as though he is the sun; such adoration feels nearly impossible to accept, especially by someone like him.

And yet, he wants to try; for you, he’d try anything.

For a long moment, the two of you hold each other’s gaze, neither daring to break the bubble that’s formed over your heads. What passes between you has a name, and both of you know it. It’s what slipped off your tongue that first night together, the confession whose weight you could no longer bear. 

It remains unspoken, for now, but it’s there. Both of you know it; both of you feel it.

“I think the tea has cooled.” You murmur shyly. But you make no effort to reach for it, so neither does he. Instead, Sanemi leans forward and presses his lips softly against yours.

He can’t get enough of kissing you. This small act of intimacy was one he’d always left confined to the bedroom. Something he only ever did in the heat of the moment, when clothes were being shed, or when his hand was wound in someone’s hair, wrenching their head back to tease their lips with his as he pounded into them from behind.

Not since he was a teenager has he kissed anyone for kissing’s sake.

And he’d certainly never had anyone of his own to kiss whenever he wanted; with whom he could give into his desire for physical affection. But now that he’s tasted your lips, Sanemi finds he cannot get enough.

Minutes pass, or maybe hours. Time doesn’t seem to matter here, wrapped up in each other, kissing and talking and being together. As tired as you are, you can’t fathom falling asleep now. 

Chin propped on his upper abdomen, you reach for him. Your fingers brush through his bangs, and Sanemi’s head bows into your touch. His hand smooths up and down your spine, charting your skin. 

Your head suddenly lifts up, a playful smile on your pretty lips. “What do I call you now, anyways? You never answered.”

Sanemi’s fingers pause their lazy exploration of your back. “What do you mean?” 

“I mean this. Us.”

A dent appears between his brows. “I’m your fuckin’ boyfriend. What else?”

That smirk widens into a full, teasing grin. The mirth in your eyes is beautiful, but Sanemi can’t help but feel like you’re making a joke he’s not in on. “What?”

“Nothing, it’s just — you don’t seem like the type to care about labels, that’s all. In fact, I thought you’d be against them.” 

Sanemi’s tone turns indignant. “Why the fuck wouldn’t I want a label?” 

“I don’t know.” You reply drily. “Maybe I assumed you didn’t want your bad boy image to take a hit.”

“What fuckin’ bad boy image —?”

You settle your head back down against him, your lashes tickling above his abdomen. That faint smile lingers for a second longer, but it disappears when you twist to press a kiss against his skin.  

Instantly, Sanemi’s griping quiets and his knuckle ghosts over the curve of your cheek. For a moment, he studies you. He traces over every detail of your face, as though you’re nothing more than a fleeting indulgence. Like he needs to savor you, before someone comes and plucks you away. 

“It’s weird, y’know?” His fingers play absently with the damp ends of your hair. “‘M not used to going to sleep with anyone. My bed’s always cold.”

You snort against his chest. “That’s not what the rumors said.”

“I didn’t let them spend the night,” you can hear the faint defensiveness in his tone. “Didn’t even cuddle with ‘em, either.”

“Yes, I heard you were quite the gentleman,” you reply airily. “Gave them just enough time to get dressed before you pushed them out the door.”

He chuffs. “You’re makin’ me sound like some sorta player.” 

“Name one person you’ve slept with besides me.” 

He taps his finger to the tip of your nose. “A gentleman doesn’t kiss and tell.” He tucks a stray lock of your hair behind your ear. “And besides, there’s only one who matters.” 

This time, it’s you who flushes, heat pooling in your cheeks. “You don’t have to seduce me. You’ve already talked your way into bed with me.”

“You’re the one who cornered me, Princess.” Sanemi counters. “In fact, you were pretty damn insistent about it. You haven’t seen all the ways I know how to seduce a woman — not yet, anyway.”

“Oh?” Your hand teases down the length of his torso, your fingers pausing just at the edge of the blanket, where it’s pulled over his lower half. Lightly, you drag your nail over his skin, and Sanemi bites his tongue to keep his hips from twitching under your touch. “Care to share with the class?”

“I might.” And he snatches your hand by the wrist, stilling you before you can sneak below the blanket and start something he knows you can’t finish. “But I think you’d prefer it if I showed you.”

Your giggles are intoxicating as he flips you back under him, his lips peppering your skin with kisses everywhere he can reach. 

It’s incredible; he’s never felt so at ease with another. But the weight of his choice soon settles over him once more, and his face turns serious.

“I can’t be here every night,” and there’s something like regret in his eyes as they search yours, and the thumb stroking your cheek feels repentant. “My…job won’t let me be, as much as I might want to.”

His expression darkens. “And I don’t want to risk anyone following me. No —“

“No patterns,” you finish with a small, understanding smile. “I didn’t think that part would change, even if you decided to come back.”

“It’s not fair to you,” Sanemi admits, his mouth thinning into a hard line. “Nothin’ about this is fair to you. I can’t take you out on dates. We can’t move in  together. I can’t even see you everyday. I—.”

He cuts himself off with a sign, and the hand that was playing with your hair falls to your back and stills. “I don’t blame you if you decide it’s too much. I told you, you deserve better —“

A press of your finger against his lips stifles his self-loathing. “And I told you, I don’t want anyone else.”

Sanemi’s hand closes around your wrist and he presses your hand more fully to his mouth, but he does not speak.

“I told you how I felt about you, and I meant it.” And then, you add more quietly, “I know what I signed up for.”

He winces at that. “No,” he reaches to stroke your cheek with his knuckle. 

“No, you don’t. I know you think you do — and I’m gonna do my damnedest to keep you far away from my shit — but there are risks to bein’ with me, Y/N.”

Risks he never should’ve brought to your door to begin with.

“Like what, to my safety?” The bluntness of your words is softened by the inquisitive tilt of your head. “I don’t know if that’s as bad as you might think.”

“But —“

“Do you think I was somehow safer when I was all alone? Do you think anyone would have noticed if I’d just disappeared one day?”

Your fingers trace circles in the dip between his pecs, toying with the faint smattering of pale hair that lies there. “My siblings don’t call. I haven’t seen my parents in over two years.” You give him a wan smile. “At least now if something happens to me, there’s someone in this damn city who would give a shit.“

The thought makes his gut turn, and yet, the nausea he feels at the prospect of anything happening to you pales against the sorrow he feels that you’ve been left alone for so long.

It made sense, he thought, for someone like him to have no one. Until you, he’d been a staunch observer of the Corp’s creed; he’d sent his little brother as far away as he could, and resigned himself to an existence of self-imposed isolation. He’d known his future – how little of it likely existed – would be too hostile to forge any bonds, the soil of his life too acidic, too toxic for anything real to take root. The idea that he could have anyone to love and to keep had never been his to claim and so, he’d not known to mourn its loss.

But you hadn’t been raised the same way he had. By his own observations, you’d grown up safe and warm and loved in a nice house that sat situated on a row of other nice homes. Ones built with brick and mortar; where you never had to worry about the lights shutting off or whether you would be warm come winter.

And your parents seemed like they’d given a damn. He’d never forgotten the relief on their faces that day, when he’d returned your little sister to them; how they’d clung to her, tears of relief and gratitude shining in their eyes. That was something else Sanemi hadn’t known: the love of a parent. Not apart from his mother, but she’d died not long after Genya was born, leaving her two boys saddled with a man who couldn’t spell the word father, let alone understand the duties of one.

You’d been given everything he hadn’t, and yet, you’d ended up exactly like him: alone. 

Worse, Sanemi realizes, he’d secured more than you had in his adulthood. He’d grown a network. His position in the Corps meant he had comrades who would at least know if he turned up dead. Who might even secure justice down the business end of a steel bat or the barrel of a stolen gun.

You didn’t even have that.

You shrug. “I don’t know. I think you knowing and caring I exist makes me a little safer.”

How could he not? You’re the axis upon which his world now turns, the only stabilizing force in his life.

A lump builds thickly in his throat. His arms form a protective cage around you, tightening until you lay your head back down against his chest.

His hand cups the back of your skull. “Alright,” he says hoarsely after a moment. “As long as you’re fine with someone like me, I won’t push it.” His fingers comb gently through your hair.

“Mmm. I’m pretty content with my choices.” You hum sleepily against his skin. Sanemi glances down to see your eyes fighting a losing battle against sleep. “’Specially when you do that.”

A ghost of a smile forms on Sanemi’s lips. “You can go to sleep, y’know.”

You nestle into his chest. “Will you be here when I wake up?”

He huffs a quiet laugh. “Yeah. I promise. The felonies can wait.”  He settles in deeper against your pillows, his fingers still stroking along your scalp. “‘Sides, I wouldn’t leave my girl before kissin’ her goodbye.”

You snuggle happily into his skin, and before long, your breathing slows and you grow still, your fingers curled limply on his chest. He didn’t think it would take you all that long to fall asleep, and here you are, safe and sound and his. 

“Sleep, baby,” he murmurs quietly against your hairline, though he knows you can’t hear him. “I ain’t lettin’ you go, now.”

For a long while, he holds you, his fingers continuing to drag up and down your spine. It’s strange to be touched with such affection; such reverence. He hadn’t the words to quite sum up how he’d felt that night, but now, Sanemi realizes just how starved for intimacy he’d been. 

He hadn’t let himself do this with the others – quietly lay in bed, letting hands roam for something other than lust as he breathed them in. Relax. This is a side of him for your eyes only; a byproduct of him now being yours. 

Besides, why shouldn’t he relax? He’s home. Because home, as he’s come to realize, is not some dingy box in the SIlo or even some place far, far away from the Corps and everyone in it. 

Home is a woman he’d known for most of his life, yet not at all, not until the universe forced him back into your orbit. Home is your fingers twitching against his chest, still guided by the compulsion to touch him with the same gentleness he shares with you; the warmth of your body curled around his. 

Home is wherever you are. 

REBLOGS, COMMENTS, AND LIKES APPRECIATED!

[leenaur143]

💫 Golden Hour: Part 1 💫

💙 Blind

10/10

- hongjoongs voice strain parts 🫠🫠🫠🫠

- his style has improved so much he's just embracing it now and im so happy for him

- i love this chorus so much this is such a festa song ahhhhhhh SOMEONE LET ME SEE MY BOYS LIVE I NEED TO SCREAM "TAKE MY SOUL TAKE MY HEART EL AMOR ES CEIGO" WITH THEMMMMM 😭😭😭😭🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥 LOVE IS SO FLIPPING BLINDDDDD AHHHHHHH

- Someone commented the song sounds like it would belong in the World Cup and THAT IS EXACTLY IT I AM LOVING THIS SO FLIPPING MUCH AHHHHHHH

💛 Work

8.5/10 🔥

- this is such a groovy song like the mv is such a vibe and I like the beat so so much I've been waiting for my summer anthem and i think this and Blind are ITTTTTT 

- the 8.5 is only cause of the mv and me being mildly overwhelmed but the song is a 9 its so sickkkkkk

- criminal not to have a fur coat in the mv but thats fine the ostrich makes up for it 😭🤣

- the money monster scares me. truly. that is what wooyoung was referring to when he called jongho the monster of capitalism 

- seonghwa bouncing more than bouncy in that car (which is so sick btw i remember seeing those lowriders that bounce in like those old school retro american movies ahhhh i wanna in ride one)

- JONGHO'S HIGH NOTES MY SAVIOURSSSSS

- yeosang and chicken are the best duo don't argue im right. 😌✌️

💙 Empty Box

9/10

- I predicted this and Blind would be my faves from this mini album and I'm 2 for 2 right now 🥹😭🩷 

- I want to drive through a countryside at twilight on a summers night, playing this and taking in life - that's the vibe I'm getting and I absolutely love it so much

- joong's rap too 😘 the like you adlibs too its so 🥹🙂‍↕️

- mingi's voice fits it so well too like the calm emotional vibe isnt broken by rap which is easy to do and they just performed it so perfectly 

- i'll always miss you though 🥹😭💖

- 'something more than better' is such a feeling that we've all been chasing 🤧

💛 Shaboom

6/10

- oh my days i fully thought i was listening to bob marley 🫠 its so 3 little birds coded (what a legend by the way rest in power king)

- OH WAIT NAH THE BEAT SWITCH AHHHHHHH 

- shaboooooooom ghost vibes 

- if i was haunted it would be by them i think like god forbid but they are the type to go shabooooooo as a joke and no one laughs 🥲🤣

- whos striking whos body hmm 

- this is so unique i feel like it will grow on me but its so much to take in first time with all the tempo switches and different musical skills that are going over my non-musical self - i'd love to know more about its creation process 

- i'm just not used to it in kpop or other music but that's a me problem 

- the EDM style at the end 🤖

💙 Siren 

7/10 

- omg SEONGHWAAAAAAAAAAA 

- his deep voice is going to be echoing in my ears like a siren 

- omg the whispers 

- is that yeosang with the dynamic drop bit i need to know nOW

- its me and yeosang saying "this is our siren" against the world 

- the whispers to the yells AHHHH this would go off in concerts man AHHHHHHHHHH i really like this i feel this will grow more on me tooo ahhhh

- its the almost cult-ish style of ringing siren for me 💀🤣

💫 Overall: I am really happy that I waited to listen to Work and the rest of Golden Hour: Part 1 until after my Physics exam cause it truly felt like the 'reward' I was searching for. I've already started watching some of the content surrounding the comeback and I'm so happy I liked the EP because it's definitely something new and unlike what Ateez have been showing us these past few years. We got used to their high energy, high power bops and now they've given us a little nudge that hey we can do other genres too (as Atiny we knew this but others could potentially be surprised by the range our boys are capable of) and as a hip-hop lover of course I loved the vibe of our a-side ahhhh shfhsh GOTTA WORK

[baekhvuns]

BAEK WHAT'S WITH THE "MATURE" CONTENT AGAIN, WHAT ARE WE TALKING ABOUT THAT'S APPARENTLY SO MATURE 😭🧐😂

Anyways, I need to split the message into 2 separate ones cause it won't send 🙄 guess I had a lot to say

London who? I don't know her! I've lived in Prague for a while, so I'm okay with it, was thinking of going back to Berlin actually, but I'll see how it goes!

About SM, I was really hoping for Taeyeon's come back, but now... and Fifty Fifty are truly speed running the kpop experience, escaped nugudom quickly, got a massive hit, now they're suing. I can't believe SM is thinking of debuting a new gg NOW?! I'm so sick and tired of them. Now they announced more rookies, probably for NCT Tokyo if it's still happening :V why remove Sungtaro just to add one Korean and one Japanese rookie???

Okay so Hear Me Out! I like it more that I imagined? It's chill, but catchy, finally a song I can easily listen to, but it's not too boring and coming from me it's a big compliment hahdhaggagshahasgga I like that it's lowkey, even though EXO deserves better, but at least they didn't give them a song with 10 switches, chanting and cringy lyrics. I'm curious about the title track! And BAEK, TEN, TAEYONG X TAEMIN CHALLENGE??? Man is collecting SuperM, to think we could've gotten Kai too... :(

Mr Byun Bakehyun's teaser photos? 👀 Again, simple teasers, yet impactful and nice looking. KQ can't relate 🤡🤡🤡 I was browsing through Pinterest and came across some cybercore photos, literally taken with smartphones and they looked more aesthetically pleasing and interesting than whatever Ateez has going on 😭

Also I still haven't made up my mind about the album, like it has its moments, but I don't feel like listening to it apart from Bouncy, even some of my non-Atiny friends love it so it did something to my brain 😭

AND MINHO X SANHWA AAAAAAA WHEN I TELL YOU I FUCKING DIED! Finally manifested something good 😭😭😭❤❤❤

Love your thoughts on Hard and agree, this is my AOTY, sorry to everyone else! I get that people may dislike Hard, but certain Shawols are so annoying, Shinee isn't just View and Replay, this is the group who released RDD for fuck's sake, haven't they heard Alive...? They're no strangers to weird music, and Hard isn't even that experimental... these fans know what's up https://twitter.com/SaraOT5/status/1674250382044721152?t=3j6cx8BgfEE7d1WuMd6onw&s=19

But this comeback is bitter sweet, because of Onew, Kibum has a cold, Taemin fell off the stage?! Why are they cursed :/// but I'm still happy to see them back, I watched Idol Human Theater and they were as weird as ever

Omg, is this another unpopular and controversial NCT take, but... I can't enjoy Haechan's vocals, he can sing, but his tone is too nasal for my liking, I know he contrasts well with other 127 vocalists, but 😭 and sometimes they mess with his voice and add autotune so it makes it worse. I don't really listen to Dreamies, but I definitely think he fits them more, I know both him and Mark love their groups, but be fr, they shouldn't be that overworked.

When I heard Jamal rap in 2 Baddies my heart dropped, glad he got Perfume at least. And now he's playing a murderer?! See, but 127 could totally do some rock/metal shit, something like Guerrilla and let Yuta scream! SM let Yuta yell challenge, he needs it! Or even something like Taeyong's Ghost, especially after the switch up when the song went a bit crazy insane. I got the vision 👀 SM hire me so I can bring some justice and infiltrate the HQ

Btw, finally the whole cover, perhaps he read our messages 👀 (ok, but I mentioned the cover to him, so what if he listened to me ahgdhagshshsgshs - delulu) https://www.instagram.com/reel/CuEx-7fIBm2/?utm_source=ig_web_copy_link&igshid=MzRlODBiNWFlZA==

Btw how's that Yunho fic been treating you? 😅 I need to re-read Bodyguard soon for the anniversary - DV 💖

i actually hate it here bc i answered this entire ask and it did not save ☺️☺️

BAEK WHAT'S WITH THE "MATURE" CONTENT AGAIN, WHAT ARE WE TALKING ABOUT THAT'S APPARENTLY SO MATURE 😭🧐😂 /// Anyways, I need to split the message into 2 separate ones cause it won't send 🙄 guess I had a lot to say /// London who? I don't know her! I've lived in Prague for a while, so I'm okay with it, was thinking of going back to Berlin actually, but I'll see how it goes!

NO BC IM ACTUALLY SO MAD AT THEM THEY DO THIS EVERY ASK AND I HAVE TO SEND IN THE REVIEW FOR IT LIKE COMEON and now i had answered this entire ask. but tumblr glitched. and. i don’t have anything. TO PRAGUE??? ANON WHERE HAVE U NOT LIVED ATP??? LIKE I GOTTA START A YOUTUBE TRAVEL VLOG CHANNEL I WILL BE UR PATERON SUBSCRIBER, EXTRA MONEY OM THE SIDE SOUNDS PRETTY GOOD TO ME ANON 🤚🏻🤚🏻let’s see if this gets labeled 😭😭

About SM, I was really hoping for Taeyeon's come back, but now... and Fifty Fifty are truly speed running the kpop experience, escaped nugudom quickly, got a massive hit, now they're suing. I can't believe SM is thinking of debuting a new gg NOW?! I'm so sick and tired of them. Now they announced more rookies, probably for NCT Tokyo if it's still happening :V why remove Sungtaro just to add one Korean and one Japanese rookie???

ur right i wish they treat her better esp w the concerts and the mismanagement she’s experiencing, like sm?? this is so true bc this is how it feels like

NOOO LITERALLY I JUST KNOW RHEY WILL DEBUT A 9 NUMBER GG THAT RESEMBLES SNSD AND FHEN PUT THEM IN KWANGYA, MY EXACT QUESTION??? WHY TAKE SUNGTARO OUT IF UR GONNA PUT THEM IN DIFF FONTS BACK IN NCT??? glad to have the resonance album bc at least they were in it even for 1 second 😭😭😭

Okay so Hear Me Out! I like it more that I imagined? It's chill, but catchy, finally a song I can easily listen to, but it's not too boring and coming from me it's a big compliment hahdhaggagshahasgga I like that it's lowkey, even though EXO deserves better, but at least they didn't give them a song with 10 switches, chanting and cringy lyrics. I'm curious about the title track! And BAEK, TEN, TAEYONG X TAEMIN CHALLENGE??? Man is collecting SuperM, to think we could've gotten Kai too... :(

it’s chill it’s catchy it’s warm it’s exo! and it’s so lowkey, makes me smile whenever i hear it ive been playing it any chance i get bc the “head me out hear me out” is STUCK IN MY HEAD like the song be making ur hips move and im into this! proper bside material 🤚🏻 YEAH IM GLAD THEY DIDNT GIVE THEM THE KWANGYA LYRICS and the way they were supposed to collab w h.e.r. sm ent im about to end u. sometimes i just wish that pink one looks too good the photos seem pretty litty 😭😭

the title track is called cream soda….and is a apparently very sexy with sensual vocals?? and a mix of kokobop and love shot?? yeah it’s over for me. I SAW THAT BAEK X TAEMIN AND SUPERM CRUMBS 😭😭😭 THEY BOTH LOOKED SO CUTE DBWNHDKW and for that, fUCK RAVI. KAI IS DEVOURING THE VAMPIRE CONCEPT SO LIKE CHEST, BED ROOM EYES AND FRAT BOY LOOK FHWKFHWK FUCK RAVI FUCK SM !!!!! looked at the track list for the album and this album is about fucking and???

Mr Byun Bakehyun's teaser photos? 👀 Again, simple teasers, yet impactful and nice looking. KQ can't relate 🤡🤡🤡  I was browsing through Pinterest and came across some cybercore photos, literally taken with smartphones and they looked more aesthetically pleasing and interesting than whatever Ateez has going on 😭

now. do not even get me started on that. i saw them when i was in bed, just barely had woken up eyes but and w the new twt update i was panicking and then the photos dropped and when i tell u. i fell. i FELL.

CUNTRESS IS IN THE HOUSE THE EYESHADOW BAEKHYUN US BACK!!! 200K LIKES AND 30K QUOTES??? STOP LOOKING AT HIM???? yes!! simple but effective, they let their features and makeup and filters do the work, the rest is up to the photographer pls kq look at them 😭😭 those atz edits w cyber core is so much better like kq pls hire some atinys atp we volunteer to be the pictorial management

Also I still haven't made up my mind about the album, like it has its moments, but I don't feel like listening to it apart from Bouncy, even some of my non-Atiny friends love it so it did something to my brain 😭 /// AND MINHO X SANHWA AAAAAAA WHEN I TELL YOU I FUCKING DIED! Finally manifested something good 😭😭😭❤❤❤

i agree, i only listen to the bouncy chorus part and haven’t gone back to it,, LMFAOOO TELL THEM TO STAY AWAY FROM SEONGHWA HE BITES !!! NO FBWJDJW WE WON WE LITERALLY WON?? AND SANS DAD KNOWING MINHOS FAMILY LIKE HE GOT MORE CONNECTIONS THAN SAN 😭😭😭😭

Love your thoughts on Hard and agree, this is my AOTY, sorry to everyone else! I get that people may dislike Hard, but certain Shawols are so annoying, Shinee isn't just View and Replay, this is the group who released RDD for fuck's sake, haven't they heard Alive...? They're no strangers to weird music, and Hard isn't even that experimental... these fans know what's up https://twitter.com/SaraOT5/status/1674250382044721152?t=3j6cx8BgfEE7d1WuMd6onw&s=19 /// But this comeback is bitter sweet, because of Onew, Kibum has a cold, Taemin fell off the stage?! Why are they cursed :/// but I'm still happy to see them back, I watched Idol Human Theater and they were as weird as ever

NO CAUSE HARD IS MY SOTY!!!!! i randomly do the hard like a criminal and the step any chance i get like im doing it as i type this,, it’s my new rover after bouncy 😭😭😭NO THEY ARE RIGHT!! ppl say they want a diverse discography and when they get it it’s still a problem??? like damned if u do damned if u don’t??? like yeah they aren’t gonna do replay forever??? replay came out a decade ago like let it go?? ppl need to enjoy music and it’s diversity,, at least it’s not the same!! “they were as weird as ever” ah what a relief 😮‍💨

Omg, is this another unpopular and controversial NCT take, but... I can't enjoy Haechan's vocals, he can sing, but his tone is too nasal for my liking, I know he contrasts well with other 127 vocalists, but 😭 and sometimes they mess with his voice and add autotune so it makes it worse. I don't really listen to Dreamies, but I definitely think he fits them more, I know both him and Mark love their groups, but be fr, they shouldn't be that overworked.

okay i can def see points made here esp about the auto tune part where it messes w his voice his voice absolutely fits dreams, they’ve got some good songs! very classic boyband but nct core,, maybe that’s why his tone fits their songs better, slightly fitted to towards slowed songs esp ballads! NO BC SOMEONE GOTS TO CHECK MARKS CONTRACT AND IF HES BEING PAID

When I heard Jamal rap in 2 Baddies my heart dropped, glad he got Perfume at least. And now he's playing a murderer?! See, but 127 could totally do some rock/metal shit, something like Guerrilla and let Yuta scream! SM let Yuta yell challenge, he needs it! Or even something like Taeyong's Ghost, especially after the switch up when the song went a bit crazy insane. I got the vision 👀 SM hire me so I can bring some justice and infiltrate the HQ

JAMAL 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 LMFAOOO BFQKHDWK JUMPSCARE NAURR 😭😭😭 his voice in perfume sounds so pretty!! ANS A MURDERER??? i hope it doesn’t like jinx him bc all nct projects like this fuck them over and never see the day of light i just hope it works out bc i wanna see him play a psycho role <33 UR RIGHT NCT COULD DO GUERRILLA SO WELL AND YES LET YUTA SCREAM 😭😭😭 no bc sm gotta hire us, at least we can fix their mess and mass clean their hq

Btw, finally the whole cover, perhaps he read our messages 👀 (ok, but I mentioned the cover to him, so what if he listened to me ahgdhagshshsgshs - delulu) https://www.instagram.com/reel/CuEx-7fIBm2/?utm_source=ig_web_copy_link&igshid=MzRlODBiNWFlZA==

IM NOT RVWNBFBWKFHWKD HE DID THIS FOR U !!!! IT WAS FOR U HE HEARD U !!!! IDC WE ARE DELULU TONIGHT HE DID THIS FOR U!!!

Btw how's that Yunho fic been treating you? 😅 I need to re-read Bodyguard soon for the anniversary - DV 💖 /// Part 2 lol (hope it sends, the fuck is going on with this website. It's still better than Twitter, but still 💀)

see the thing is i have it ready, i have the teaser ready all set up and tagged, but i get extremely nervous to post bc it’s been so long and i have been trying to post since friday and i just talk myself out if bc i become scared 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

Omggg, Don't get me started on yet another New Jeans controversy. Dumb fucks trying to justify MHJ's behaviour every single time??? Why are they dickriding her so hard?! I don't get why NJ's have such deranged fans. See, ETA is an unfortunate title, but it could be a coincidence and I could totally believe it was supposed to mean Estimated Time of Arrival if it wasn't for the names?! This bitch feeds off attention (fitting) whether it's positive or negative and people eat it up every single time. Ofc the song and MV won't be centred around terr*rism (at least I hope so), but the inspo is there anyway... I had to block someone I know for being annoying about it

NOO, LITERALLY EVEYRTING U SAID HERE FACTUAL!!!! i actually do not one bit believe that she did not know anything about this, trying to stir up stuff so ppl talk about the comeback, abspielte pathetic,, sure the title eta os random (honestly ive never heard of this name before) but the names???? THE NAMES???? i can’t fathom the fact that she knew what she was doing yet is still gonna use it as an aesthetic??? idk if this a hybe thing bec do u rmr the polls?? 😭😭

Speaking of comic/manga theme, don't know if you've seen the covers of Pentagon's Love or Take https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=2UI4HR2dYn0 I own all the versions and they're so pretty!

I HAVENT NOT AND IM OBSESSED BC WHAT THE FUCK???? i need this bad this is such a refreshing concept like omg??? kq pls 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

https://twitter.com/nobodylikehwa/status/1674135298790379522?t=bBkkShDrAMx-DXs9YhXB2g&s=19 <- BESTIE WE NEED TO MANIFEST HARDER LIKE, HE'S SURROUNDING HIMSELF WITH YSL AND BEGGING AT THIS POINT 😭 I just don't understaaaaaaaand. He's a popular member, looks like a model, why aren't they calling him?!?!?! All the gifts from Lego and Animal Crossing are cute, but come one fashion world DON'T PISS ME OFF

HES ASKING FOR IT COMEON YSL LISTEN TO HIM 😭😭😭😭 need him to go there and pretend to be THE guy 😭😭😭 kq gotta hurry bc ive heard the manager’s set them up with brands idols want and get connections 😭😭😭😭

Btw, not to be that Shitstar, but this https://twitter.com/helytes/status/1672898558285021188?t=uzX2UfZQWUqzoAFyG3UE0g&s=19 annoyed me, like wtf bitch?! Sure I clowned him for not being a gangster, but if you watched all the Bouncy challenges or his fan cams (gotta rant about this too, because his fan cams this cb are really baaaad, he's always hidden, either by cameramen or... Hongjoong's crotch 😭) you'd see that he SELLS the concept well. Not sure why KQ decided to underutilise him, they gave him the rap part which was a big event for some people, but other than that he's invisible (sorry he got them awful grillz too...) idk something about it is just... iffy. Just had to vent 🤧

no wait ive also noticed the fancams being blocked or filmed horribly 😭😭😭 UR RIGHT HE SELLS THE CONCEPT, his swagger and the facial expressions (keep that tongue inside mr park) + the way he carries himself around the concept is just immaculate,, the grills and the constant way he shows it off irks me for like no apparent reason 😭😭😭

Did this for us, our sweet Shawol and such a successful fan! https://twitter.com/pshsource/status/1674030496521547778?t=NfhIMOBKvKmp2eKbaDCg7A&s=19

never been this jealous of hwa and san of meeting shinee like that 😀

Also bestie what's with Neymar, I saw that he cheated, but only read his apology yesterday and 🤡🤡🤡🤡 embarrassing. When people apologise for cheating and act dramatic like that I can't help but laugh, even though it's such a shitty situation obviously. You wanted to get wet with someone else and now you're acting like a lovesick Jane Austen male lead??? And the girl is pregnant 💀💀💀💀 footballers stay faithful challenge

LMFAOOOO NO BC I SAW THAT AND LAUGHED SO HARD LIKE HE MADE A WHOLE POST ABT IT HES SO EMBARRASSING AND DURING BRUNA BEING PREGNANT??? SCREAMED BC BRUNAS SISTER WAS THE FIRST ONE TO TREAT HIM LIKE AN ADULT THIS STORY HAD ME CRYING TBWKFJAJJDQLBDWK he’s a player on and off the field like messi truly the only good guy i guess 😭😭

and the way he’s having a daughter, yeah that’s his karma for cheating she’ll show him 🤚🏻

Started King the Land and it's so cliche, but the right type of cliche for me and Yoona x Junho are so good together. Not them getting dating rumours already nsgsjahshaggsgsgaha??? Hilarious, but also the amount of people shipping them, lol, their chemistry is truly great

I DBWKDHAK I KEEP GASPING AT JUNHO LIKE HE FITS THE ROLE SO WELL??? he’s styled so well and i just, i just i get the butterflies when i see him <3 he’s sick and the mole on his nose bridge god 😭😭 in my absolute peak, PEAK delulu era,, UR RIGHT ITS THE RIGHT AMT OF CLICHE I ACTUALLY LOVE IT,, when yoona says “wait im going to war??” and he just loses it hAD ME CRYING 😭😭😭 NO BC I WAS SO EXCITED TO SEE THE NEWS I REFUSE TO BELIEVE THEY ARE NOT DATING I HAVE A GUT FEELING IT MIGHT BE MORE THAN JUST DATING anyway this is me AND IM A DELULU BC OF THIS THEY LOOK SO WELL TOGETHER TOO

but do u know what we need. a woo do hwan ceo au. idc someone has to do it, after the drama w lee minho seeing him in that suit had me drooling

https://www.instagram.com/reel/CuAsHUaABJw/?igshid=MzRlODBiNWFlZA== LIKE DO U SEE HIM

Nah this is crazy, because if Ten was a London boy and art student chances are we would meet and... imagine that 😮 https://twitter.com/TENsfeed/status/1675848474494119936?t=Ii-TKhJWZ9sCHAqmxh6lvA&s=19 - DV 💖

STOP??????? HE WOULDVE BEEN BRI’ISH?? IMAGINE THAT??? and if u were friends w him 🤨 will start my delulu bc if mark wasn’t in nct right now he would’ve been in town 😭😭😭

also this is so fucking funny he’s so nosy 😭😭😭😭 i love it

my two worlds uniting like 😭😭

[jentlemahae]

it’s another playlist anon and i’ve gone through almost all of them now! really kept listening for mark and haechan’s voices in those two, and omg “so am i” or “crash landing”? had forgot how mark sounded in them! n haechan “the rainy night” and “round&round” didn’t give him enough cred for his voice in those! as for the vibelists? these were so exciting to get to listen to! i knew you’re a swiftie but starting with “gold rush” and i would never have thought her songs could fit him so well but you’re damn right mark would nail that so good. his soft but rough and dipping into darker pitches? but especially the softness with it? would work so good man. “lost”????? that’s so good literally made for mark. all so well chosen for him! and starting with mariah carey for haechan is the most clever move i’ve seen omg. same as for mark, wouldn’t have thought of that before but that’s so true. his voice could do her songs real justice! stayc too i’m a little obsessed with imagining haechan singing them actually! also to add “bambi” to this list feels like a celebration to haechan be deserved that but also i bet he’d be very proud you put it in there. he’d do it so well! agreed, songs like “instagram” belong with them both etc omg i’m just so grateful for the time u put into making these for me and us! thank you, i might just continue to listen to your playlists if that’s ok! they’re literally perfect! it feels like just what i was wishing for without actually knowing exactly what i was wishing for! thank you for spoiling me and us like this 😭💖💖💖 your mind, your taste, and your generosity!

thank u for such nice feedback! i really love when ppl give me comments about stuff that ive made so thank uu 🥺🫂🫶🏻 and yeah mark sounds soooo fine in so am i omg it’s a shame that im certain he’s forgotten about that song 😞 and to be completely honest, gold rush is not really a song that id like mark to cover, it’s more that it reminds me sooooo much of him >.< lost is something id like him to cover tho heheh and honey is something i want haechan to cover so badddddd his voice would sound so good 😦😦 and yeah instagram is one of the songs i think they should cover together <3 also palette by iu and pour up by dean and suit & tie by justin t <3 anwww im so happy u like them!! 💗 honestly making them was soooo much fun, it was actually a treat for me ahah 😄 so you are very welcome! 🥰💗💗💗 sending u a hug, i hope u have the best week <3

[whatever-lmaoo]

When I tell you I have a mini heart attack everytime I move my notes to a reblog😭 I need them to move cut away from copy bc idk what id do if i accidentally hit cut🥹

#“like you were made to fit him” we were made to fit him😍

#“hearing Benny’s not-so-subtle announcement that he was home” Benny already knows 😂

#“never able to get over how stunning you were even in your sleep, how divine you looked naked in his bed.” need a man to look at me like I’m the last jewel on earth😩

#“Oh, I’m sorry, did I wake you?” Benny is so meeee

#“fully aware of the fact that he was the one who needed an eye kept on him.” I love a self aware king🤌🏾

#“Well stop fucking talking to me, go and figure this shit out!” BENNY FOR THE WINNNN, idk what Will would do without Benny boy

#“He took his boxers off and slipped into bed,” the things I would give to sleep naked with Will😞

#“your bum rubbing against his groin in a way that made him moan and grind on you.” Stand down soldier😂 we got some talkin to do🧐

#“the weight of almost never experiencing this again hitting him hard.” Idk what happened to my emotions but I’m already tearing up😭

#“A breath shuddered out of him as he reached up and smoothed the side of your head, desperately again and again, his forehead leaning against yours as he fought off tears of his own.” I’ve come to the realization that I am not as emotionally prepared for this conversation as I thought I was😣

#“The shake in his voice and the look in his eyes broke your heart,” I actually can’t do this😭 let’s talk about it🥂(imagine this is a podcast and were covered in tissues in our cute lil chairs🥹): off riff the vibes you have set for this scene are phenomenal🙉 (I hate my scatter brain lmaooo😭 bear with me) it’s very authentic with how quickly pain can throw itself into any situation; we were having a sweet moment and although you don’t say it, you can tell that the reader realized that there was a possibility where this reconnection would not have happened, either because Will kept up with his facade or something tragic happened on his tour. Another thing that makes this authentic is Will’s vulnerability. You can feel the turmoil that his nightmare put him through and the agony that he feels knowing that he hurt us. We can all agree that Will is a traditional man, and because of that he would also have a hard time with being seen emotionally and the way you handle that with describing how small and shakey his voice sounds, the extra pauses, the brokenness in his eyes is so perfect🥹 omg not to mention that we’re also naked so he’s feeling extra exposed, but in the “you’re seeing all of me” way. “Of course I trust you.” All of this shows exactly how much he trusts us🥹

#“You’re my everything,” crying🥺😭💖💖💖

#“Shh, not yet, baby. Just let me feel you.”the way I would’ve sobbed some more and pulled him into the tightest hug😭

#You sure know how to make a love making scene feel so real😩🌸

#“Will laid on your chest” if there’s one thing I would actually give up my kidney for it would be to get the chance to just hold him

#“the veins that ran through his skin like rivers” yall already know😍

#“the sweat on the back of his neck feeling like drips of ice.” Again 🙉

#LAUR WHAT ARE YOU DOING WASTING YOUR TALENTS ON TUMBLR????? THATS FILM WRITER/BOOK AUTHOR WORTHY🙉🙉🙉🙉🙉🙉🙉🙉🙉🙉🙉 cant believe I just read another glorious nightmare scene from you for free😲 the details, the imagery, the vibes, the sheer panic in Will’s movements, the added gore factor with this line “Two silver tags were dangling from your neck, the chain wrapped so tightly around your throat that it was embedded in your flesh, your skin marked with bruises and cuts from it cutting off your air flow” how do you do it everytime???

#“feeling his cock hardening against you through his boxers.” This man is always hard😂

#“I need you, baby,” love me a needy man🤧

#“I'm right here, Will,” the double meanings😩

#“You were completely alive, breathing and writhing with life in his arms, your blood flowing in every part he touched, his hands awakening every fiber in you.”😮

#“There was no questioning the falsity of his dream now, your euphoria solidifying your vitality, your body full of life as it shuddered with vigor because of him, the devastation of being the reason you wouldn’t breathe again leaving him with each second he was encased in you.” Jail time affectionately 🙉

#“aware that Benny could’ve walked in at any point.” I really thought Benny was about to catch us😭

#“but he knew he could face anything as long as he was with you.” Awwww🥹

#“Only to make Will shake his head as he reached his hand over the console and took yours.” Laurie please let this go smooth sailing 😭

#“Not without a kiss,” your wish is my command big boy😍😩

#“Will was thankful for his pleasant enough experience,” thank god😭 my heart can only handle so much🥹

#“what looked like a too-friendly of a conversation with a man he had never seen before.” Gimme all the possessiveness 🥵🥵🥵🥵

#“You seemed somewhat nervous or uncomfortable, touching your hair a little more than normal,” never mind Will come save me😣

#UH UH WHYD IT HAVE TO BE CAM😭 MY POOKIE BEAR🤧

#“still unable to believe how stupid he was for having let you go” you were pretty stupid

#“I love you. I only want you, and that was the same even when you weren’t with me.” My hearttttt🥹🥺

#“I don’t think I’ll ever deserve you, sweetheart,” he began. “But I will spend every second trying to.” YES THANK YOU THIS MINDSET IS EVERYTHING 🥹

You’d think I’d know what to say after doing this for a while but y’all always leave me so speechless in the end😂🥹🌸 the way you’re able to write all variations of scenarios never fails to amaze me!! With every part we get to see your creativity flourish and the growth you show within your writing🥹💖 if I were to ever have to choose a favorite part this one would definitely be up there with how you touch on romance, comedy, a bit of gruesomeness, vulnerability, a play on fears and etc🙉 I know I say this all the time, just means it’s true, but you outdid yourself again with this one Laurie🥹💖🌸💗

Breathe

Part 8

Pairing: Will 'Ironhead' Miller x female reader

Words: 6.2k

Warnings: Rated E, 18+. Swearing. Cockwarming. Unprotected intercourse. Nightmare involving death by asphyxiation. Panic attack. Oral sex (female receiving).

Summary: You and Will finally discuss how to navigate your relationship, and after establishing a comfortable rhythm again, something causes a disruption to test you once more.

A/N: I am over the moon and completely floored at the response to this series and am so thankful to each and every one of you who continues to read it and be excited for it! A big thank you to all my readers as well as @spaghettificationandpretzels for cheering me through this last chapter 💗

photo by @avatarskingdom and edited by me.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7

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Will opened his eyes with a smile, feeling relaxed and content, the tension in his neck and shoulders that had been constant since before he left on the op finally gone.

You were still sleeping soundly, tucked up beside him where the curves of your back meshed into his front like you were made to fit him, his arm comfortably draped over your waist.

The sheets barely covered both of your bodies, and the feel of the fan blowing against his bare skin had Will feeling like he never wanted to move, but it seemed someone else thought differently.

The loud bang of cabinet doors and the clink of dishes in the sink pulled another smile across Will’s lips, hearing Benny’s not-so-subtle announcement that he was home, and Will carefully lifted his arm off of you to check the time on his watch, seeing it was well into the morning already and that having a visit with his brother was more than overdue.

You only stirred slightly when Will lifted himself off the bed, adjusting a little as your body subconsciously searched for his, and as he pulled on his boxers he allowed himself to admire you, never able to get over how stunning you were even in your sleep, how divine you looked naked in his bed.

He closed the door quietly behind him, but with all the racket Benny was creating he wasn’t sure why he even bothered, and made his way to the kitchen, shaking his head.

Benny looked at him with a big grin on his face as he entered the room, setting the pan back in the drawer that he had just taken out.

“Oh, I’m sorry, did I wake you?” he said through a laugh.

Will couldn’t help but laugh too, his grin stretching so wide it hurt his cheeks as he stepped toward his brother.

“You’re not fucking sorry.”

“You’re right, I’m not,” Benny admitted, wrapping his arms around Will’s back.

Will returned his embrace, both of them hitting each other firmly on the shoulder a couple of times.

“It’s good to see you, bro,” Will said, realizing he had missed his little brother more than he thought.

“Yeah, you too.”

Will studied Benny as they pulled away from each other, assessing his brother to make sure he wasn't missing if anything was wrong with him, meanwhile fully aware of the fact that he was the one who needed an eye kept on him.

Obviously sensing Will’s feelings, Benny lifted his chin and asked in a serious tone, “How’re you doing, man?”

“I'm good…yeah. I'm good.”

“Yeah?”

Will nodded in confirmation. “Yeah.”

“Are you gonna tell me what happened?” Benny grinned, his question pertaining to you, having seen your car parked in the driveway.

Will shrugged and looked away, unable to help the smile appearing on his face.

“She showed up,” he breathed, the relief he still felt over it showing.

Benny raised his hands to prompt Will for more. “And she's still here so…”

Will nodded again, crossing his arms over his bare chest.

“So what does this mean?”

“I don't know.” Will puffed the air out of his lungs, that bit of alleviation he had just felt tainted by doubt, the realization that you still hadn’t discussed anything making him worry.

Benny covered his face with his hands, groaning loudly.

“Oh my god, you two!” He let his hands fall, looking at Will exasperatedly. “You really just got right down to business, huh?”

Will huffed out a laugh, unable to defend himself. “Yeah.”

“Well stop fucking talking to me, go and figure this shit out!” Benny shouted, shoving Will on the shoulder to turn him around and point him back in the direction of his room.

“I know! Okay!” Will chuckled as he started to move. “Will you be around today?”

“I’m gonna give you two some space and go to the gym, but I’ll be home later.”

“Okay. How did your fight go?” he asked, realizing he hadn’t yet.

Benny smirked, his head held proudly. “Beat him with a 10-8.”

“Atta boy,” Will winked, clapping his shoulder.

“See you later, bro. Glad you’re home.”

“Thanks, Ben. See ya.”

Will walked the rest of the way to his room, carefully opening the door to find you still asleep, and his heart swelled.

He took his boxers off and slipped into bed, gathering you in his arms like you had been before, your sleepy moans making him smile.

His nose nuzzled into your neck, the warm scent of your skin the best thing to ever exist, and he pressed a kiss to the spot between your neck and shoulder, moving his mouth all across and back again, not able to resist.

A lazy hum sounded from you, your body moving against his as you began to wake, your bum rubbing against his groin in a way that made him moan and grind on you.

You rolled over to face him, a soft smile dressing your perfect lips, your eyes hazy with both sleep and adoration as you greeted him.

“Good morning.”

“Good morning, sweetheart,” Will breathed, the weight of almost never experiencing this again hitting him hard.

You traced the line that flanked his mouth with your finger, ghosting it over his upper lip and then down to his bottom one, the fullness of them mesmerizing. Leaning toward him, you kissed him, softly and slowly, like you couldn’t kiss him enough to make up for the time that was lost.

A flood of emotions surged through you, feeling tears sting your eyes, your throat restricting and forcing you to pull away.

You could see the concern in his eyes, and you did your best to meet them but couldn’t, your blurred gaze falling to his chest instead.

“You hurt me.”

A breath shuddered out of him as he reached up and smoothed the side of your head, desperately again and again, his forehead leaning against yours as he fought off tears of his own.

“I know. I’m so sorry.”

He continued to hold your face, his fingers clawing your hair as you both focused on breathing, his nose nudging yours as he shook his head slightly.

“I don’t know what I can do to make it up to you,” he whispered, his voice full of remorse.

“Just be here,” you muttered, taking his hand and holding it in yours, squeezing it. “I can’t go through that again, Will. You need to let me be here for you.”

He nodded, his words small when he spoke. “I know.”

You inhaled deeply, continuing to try to muster your courage to keep speaking.

“I get why…Benny told me about the nightmare – I just wish you felt you could’ve trusted me to understand. I know that I’ll never be able to fathom the things you’ve been through but I can try, Will.”

“I was so stupid,” he muttered. “Of course I trust you. I wasn’t thinking…I didn't want to hurt you, but I didn’t know what else to do. I was scared…”

The shake in his voice and the look in his eyes broke your heart, seeing him so dejected and full of shame, making your tears come out faster.

“It’s okay,” you cried, angling your face toward his more, your lips brushing.

“That nightmare was so real. I couldn't handle the thought of actually hurting you and I'm still convinced I could. You know what I did to that guy in Publix…” he explained, thinking of all the other heinous things he’d done to other human beings.

“That's not going to happen, Will. I don't believe you could ever hurt me.”

“But I did hurt you–” he choked, his eyes so full of pain.

“Will…It's okay. We're okay. I forgive you.”

You kept repeating it, hoping he would believe it, your lips moving to kiss each other tenderly.

Will separated his mouth from yours after a minute, but remained close, his eyes searching over your features as his hand broke the connection with yours, moving it up to cup your cheek and smooth his thumb over it.

“I love you,” he confessed, a surety finally held in his words.

“I love you too, Will,” you returned, a sob following, and he kissed the streaks of tears from your cheeks, eventually moving to your lips.

It wasn’t long before he was covering you with his body, kissing you breathlessly while settling between your legs, his rigid cock nudging your core.

He pushed inside you, stretching you out until you were full of him, his mouth moving off of yours to allow you to take a gasping breath, his nose nuzzling your cheek as the rest of him remained still.

“You’re my everything,” he whispered, resting his forehead on yours as you breathed together, relishing in him being inside you unmoving.

He flexed his cock, and you moaned quietly at the sensation, responding by squeezing your walls around him, your mouths beginning to tease each other again.

“I thought I’d lost you, Will.”

He shook his head, his brows knitted together. “I'm here, sweetheart.”

Will shifted to wrap his arms underneath your body, fully laying on you and holding you as close to him as he could, his cock moving within you as he adjusted making you gasp.

He stilled again, his eyes flickering up from your chest to your lips and then to your own loving gaze, breathing out before crashing his lips against yours.

You tried moving your hips, needing to feel him move inside you, only to have him press himself down harder on you to stop you.

“Shh, not yet, baby. Just let me feel you.”

He stole your air as he kissed you again, hard and claiming, his body heavy and secure on yours, nothing moving on each other but your lips as his tongue filled your mouth.

You felt his cock pulse against your walls, making you even more desperate for him, your fervor increasing wildly as you clenched around him in a tight grip.

He growled against your lips, still trying to hold off, but the feel of your hands beginning to run up and down his back, clawing and tearing at his flesh had him fighting off the urge to take you hard and fast.

As slowly as he could, Will dragged himself out of you, all but his leaking tip, and plunged back in as deep as possible, feeling your soaked hole encase him and your walls flutter around him, swallowing your whines as you writhed beneath him.

He repeated the movement, all the way out and back in again, his mouth leaving yours to travel down your neck, sucking and kissing your sensitive skin as the sound of your intoxicating moans filled the air.

His thrusts were slow but forceful, moving the bed with each blow, the build-up to this bringing you close to your climax quickly.

“I love you,” he uttered against your skin, his lips smearing across your chest as he continued to drive into you hard and purposefully.

“I-I love you too!” you wailed, on the verge of more tears as your body tipped on the edge of bliss, the claim of his love spurring your pleasure even more.

Hearing you return it seemed to encourage him too, his movements growing more powerful, his grunts like music to your ears, and feeling you were close to coming apart, he kissed you again, commanding and needy as you both sought your end.

He held you in the tightest grip as your body tensed and spasmed, bucking into you deeply as he filled you with his hot seed, continuing to move his hips until his cum was leaking out of you.

Your hands ran through his hair, both of you breathless when you halted your kissing, Will’s eyes full of emotion as he looked at you.

“I mean it, sweetheart,” he stressed. “I love you so damn much. I’m so sorry I did that to you.”

He turned his face and kissed the palm of your hand as you cupped his cheek, feeling the softness of his beard against it as you nodded in agreement.

“I know, Will. I know. I love you too.”

He smiled despite tears appearing in his eyes, leaning down to kiss you again, his breath shaking into you.

You stayed as you were for as long as you could, taking each other in as if all the ways you had memorized each other wasn’t enough to satisfy the time you were apart.

Will laid on your chest, his face turned to the side to give you a view of the way his golden eyelashes touched his cheeks, how the hair around his mouth was bleached lighter than the rest, feeling his heart beating against your stomach.

His long fingers ran patterns up and down your waist, following the curve of your hip, the veins that ran through his skin like rivers prominent on his forearms even through his tattoos.

“Where do we go from here?” you wondered out loud, playing with his hair idly, questioning whether it would be better or not to drop right back in where you were before, if it was even possible.

Will sighed, and you watched his eyebrows rise on his forehead. He didn't speak right away, the way he was carefully configuring his answer clear on his features, and after a minute, he sighed again and turned his head, pressing a kiss on your stomach.

“I don't know,” he said, honestly. “I think it might be wise not to rush things…” He paused, shaking his head slightly as he blew air out of his mouth again. “But we said that before and didn't manage that very well.”

He turned his head to look at you and chuckled while you smiled, nodding in agreement.

“I understand if you're hesitant or don't trust me,” he continued, his tone changing to be more serious. “And I can't blame you for that. I know how badly I messed up.”

He propped himself up and shifted, moving up to collect you in his arms and lay beside you on the pillows, switching positions so you rested your head on his chest instead, your lips grazing over the warm skin on his thick pecs.

The truth was that there was no way you could hesitate on loving him, your heart set on belonging to him no matter what you faced, and despite what had happened, you knew you would trust Will with keeping it safe and not breaking it again.

You tilted your head to meet his gaze, your finger reaching up to trace the line beside his mouth, knowing that even if you agreed to take things slow, there was no such thing when it came to your love.

Summarizing it all in the best way you knew how, you smiled and brought your face close to his, your lips brushing his when you spoke.

“All-in. I’m all-in, Will.”

He smiled and you saw his eyes glistening before he rubbed his nose against yours, his hand coming up to hold your face to keep you close to him.

“All-in, sweetheart.”

“Will! WILL!”

His name cut through the dense air in your piercing voice, making a shiver run down his spine, the sweat on the back of his neck feeling like drips of ice.

He looked right and left, everything black, and all he could do was listen, being as still as possible to try to figure out which direction your screams were coming from despite wanting to run as fast as he could to get to you, but all he could hear now was his cold blood pounding in his ears.

“Will!”

Again, only further away this time, and he whipped around only to continue facing complete darkness, his panic rising with each second that passed.

He started sprinting, hearing you begging for your life, your cries and struggle becoming clearer and closer as he moved.

His body hit a wall, his hands frantically searching it for something other than the smooth, hard surface, unable to find its end in his sightless hunt. Reaching a door, he turned the handle only to find it locked, immediately starting to slam his body against it to try to force it open.

Your screams increased, just on the other side, your desperation growing in knowing he was right there, but the door wouldn’t budge.

Will kicked and rammed his shoulder into it over and over, his breathing ragged and laboured as he tried to work through his panic, and finally, it gave in.

He stumbled through, his eyes frantically searching for where you should be, only to find the space where he had so vividly heard your screams completely empty.

“Will! Please!” you wailed, the sound distant again and making his stomach lurch that he couldn’t get to you.

Room after room appeared, all of them empty even though he swore he could hear you in each one, and he began yelling back for you, trying to keep you talking so he was able to follow your pained voice.

“No! No, please!” he heard you beg, your voice full of terror and quieter than it had been before, and then it was silent.

Will continued to search every room, and after opening the doors of about twenty more, he finally found you laying in the center of the room.

You were facing the other way, unmoving, your form limp on the cold, concrete floor.

His heart was in his throat, and he could barely capture a breath, stepping toward you hesitantly in fear of what he was about to discover.

His knees struck the ground and he reached for you, pulling on your shoulder to turn you over, the cold of your skin telling him exactly what he already knew.

A sob escaped his mouth before his cries filled the air, tears blurring the sight of your lifeless face, the colour of your lips darkened by death.

He pawed at you, trying to shake you awake, his mouth instinctively covering yours to try to give you his air even though he knew it was pointless.

Something cold fell against his hand and he stopped his efforts to revive you, bile rising in his throat when his eyes focused enough to see what it was.

Two silver tags were dangling from your neck, the chain wrapped so tightly around your throat that it was embedded in your flesh, your skin marked with bruises and cuts from it cutting off your air flow, the information listed in the embossed writing all things Will knew by heart.

MILLER

WILLIAM J.

196-37-5436

O POS

NONE

Will screamed himself awake, flying up in bed gasping for air, his cheeks wet with tears and his heart furiously pounding in his chest so hard he clapped his hand over it in fear it would stop or jump out.

His panic continued, realizing you weren’t in bed with him, his body shaking as he tore the twisted sheets off his legs and stood.

With the nightmare so fresh in his head, every door he passed had him feeling sick, but he pressed on, moving toward the kitchen in the dark as quickly as he could.

His feet nearly slipped on the hardwood floor from his sweat, his breathing not slowing, and a relieved gasp shuddered out of him when he stepped into the kitchen and saw you standing at the counter pouring yourself a glass of water.

The small light above the stove illuminated your half-clothed body, his t-shirt covering just enough to keep you modest, and you turned around the moment you heard him come in.

“Hey, I–,” you started, your face falling in seeing the state he was in. “Will, what happened?”

You basically threw your glass in the sink and stepped toward him, holding either side of his face where you searched his wild eyes, his breathing short and gulping in his distress.

“Will, listen to me, breathe…” you stressed, trying your best to keep calm, forcing your own breaths slowly out of your mouth to get him to follow suit.

He nodded in your hands, his eyes closing as he worked to focus, the skin around them crinkling in his efforts that almost seemed to cause him pain.

You counted slowly, your voice calm and even, feeling your heart break the longer it went on and he had only settled slightly.

“Will, look at me, I’m here,” you reminded him, exhaling again as his eyes flashed open and locked with yours, his head shaking back and forth as he swallowed hard and his broken voice echoed in the kitchen.

“It happened again–”

You gathered him in your arms, thankful when he did the same, his grip on you so tight you wondered if your ribs would crack but didn’t care, soothingly running your fingers up and down his wet back as he gripped at you like he needed to prove you were there.

“It’s okay. It’s not real.”

You repeated it over and over until he eventually relaxed against you, his mouth smearing across your neck before peppering kisses onto it, his hands still groping and pawing at your form.

He sighed out deeply as he peeled away from you, his hands running up your waist where they pulled your shirt up with them, his eyes switching to have a desperation in them that differed from before.

Will clasped your face and angled it toward him, leaning down to capture your lips in a tender kiss, able to feel the tremble in his fingers from his lingering panic.

“Thank you, sweetheart,” he breathed.

You returned his kiss. Once, then twice.

“Are you okay?”

He leaned his forehead on yours, sighing out slowly again.

“Yeah,” he nodded. “I’m okay. You’re okay…” he said, reassuring himself.

He kissed you again, deeper this time, drawing in a long inhale as he did.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you,” he whispered when he parted the seal of your lips briefly, taking another breath before crashing against them again.

You moaned into his mouth, your legs feeling weak to his advances, feeling his cock hardening against you through his boxers.

His tongue explored your mouth, his fervor increasing quickly thanks to the adrenaline coursing through him, his hands slipping under your shirt to stroke your naked sex.

“Will…” you breathed, inhaling sharply as he slid his fingers between your folds and fingered you.

He kissed down your neck and then up to your ear, his breath making your shiver, and as he hooked his fingers inside you to massage your g-spot, he grabbed your earlobe with his teeth and tugged on it, a low growl making you melt.

“Turn around, sweetheart,” he growled, not giving you the chance to comply as he guided you to face the counter before you could even move.

You planted your hands on the ledge, gripping it tightly while spreading your legs apart and hinging slightly at your hips, granting him access to where you both needed him to be.

You heard him tear down his boxers, and you gasped when you felt his cock land between your legs, nudging at your center where he dragged it back and forth, his lips landing on your neck while his hands grabbed at the hem of your shirt to lift it over your ass.

“I need you, baby,” he groaned, kissing your neck until you were squirming.

You tilted your head to expose more of you, sighing out as you relished in the feel of his lips on the space between your shoulder and nape.

“I'm right here, Will,” you assured, permitting him to do what he wanted with you while reminding him that whatever happened in his tortured mind was false.

His hand splayed out over your stomach, holding you against him as he pushed inside you, and you let your head fall back onto his shoulder as he began sliding in and out of you, his pace determined and steady.

You reached your arm up behind you, your fingers finding his hair, raking through it while he continued to kiss and suck on your neck as he fucked you, his hand that was on your belly falling to your clit where he rubbed it purposefully.

“Fuck, Will…” you moaned, your breathing growing ragged with each second that passed with him rutting into you.

His hand that wasn’t between your legs explored you everywhere else, pulling at your nipples through the worn cotton of his t-shirt, the soft plush of your breasts being squeezed in his large palm, grabbing at you desperately and thoroughly.

“Come for me, sweetheart,” he growled beside your ear, his thrusts increasing. “I need to feel you cream on my cock.”

His demand and the sensation of his mouth continuing to attack your neck sent you over the edge, his dick slamming against your g-spot and his fingers toying your swollen clit making you do exactly as you were told, feeling your release soak his fat cock.

Will didn’t falter, keeping his tempo with his hand planted firmly on your cunt, the only change being his breathing turning ragged and his grunting sounding louder in your ear.

“Again,” he ordered, “I want to keep feeling you.”

The tone of his voice made you gasp, your arousal pushed beyond any limits, knowing he couldn’t get enough of feeling you fluttering and squeezing and creaming around him keeping that heat billowing at the base of your spine.

You rocked to his movements, meeting him in his thrusts, equally as eager to feel him fill you up and throb inside you at the same time you lost all control again.

You tore at his forearms, clawing him frantically as you leaned back against him, relying on him to keep you upright instead of bracing yourself on the counter.

“That’s it,” he purred in your ear. “I’m right there, too. I need you to come with me.”

“Fuck!” you wailed, your pleasure spiking as his one hand squeezed your breast, plucking and pinching your hard nipple between his fingers.

“You feel so fucking good, sweetheart,” he groaned. “I love you so much.”

Will held you tighter, keeping you as close to him as possible as he slammed into you, his lips landing on your neck where he could feel your pulse hammering against them.

You were completely alive, breathing and writhing with life in his arms, your blood flowing in every part he touched, his hands awakening every fiber in you.

There was no questioning the falsity of his dream now, your euphoria solidifying your vitality, your body full of life as it shuddered with vigor because of him, the devastation of being the reason you wouldn’t breathe again leaving him with each second he was encased in you.

His hips stuttered as he emptied himself deep inside you, coating your walls that pulsed around him, his eyes falling closed as he began to slow his movements and relished in feeling your hand reaching up to card through his hair.

You hummed softly, the sound vibrating on his lips that he kept pressed on your neck, breathing you in as he listened to your heart thrumming strong and steadily, your body relaxing against his as you both came down to a place of calm.

When he slipped out of you, you spun around, looking up at him sweetly with the most warmth and care in your eyes.

“I love you too, Will,” you whispered, your hands laying flat on his bare chest where you smoothed them upward, holding his scruffy face in your hands. “More than anything.”

He huffed a small laugh, one corner of his mouth lifting as he gave a coy smile, making you love him even more than you thought possible.

“Are you ready to go back to bed?” you asked, wondering if his terror from his nightmare had dissipated or if the thought of closing his eyes again filled him with dread.

He hummed, looking down at the floor before back at you. “I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep,” he admitted.

“That’s okay. I’m happy to stay awake with you.” You leaned in and kissed his lips softly, pulling away only slightly, dropping your voice to a murmur. “Whatever you need from me, Will, I’m here.”

Your words held so much more than just one meaning, making the ache and residual panic in his heart settle even more, and he found he couldn’t stop staring at the vibrance of your eyes, the spirit in them helping bring him a sense of ease.

“I just need you,” he spoke, his voice quiet but rough with a mix of lust and strain from his anxiety.

Will didn’t exactly want to return to his bed, preferring to stay in the kitchen or go lay with you on the couch, but knew you had already risked enough by having sex where you did, aware that Benny could’ve walked in at any point.

Accepting it was the only option, Will sighed and held your hand, taking you with him to his room, happy with the fact that no matter where he was, being with you was where he felt safe and at home.

You went to crawl back into bed when you got inside and shut the door, but Will stopped you, tugging your hand that was still entwined with his, pulling you into him.

You smiled against his lips, your foreheads touching, and Will breathed, closing his eyes as he let his hands roam your body.

“Hang on, sweetheart,” he whispered, his hands grabbing the hem of your shirt to pull it over your head.

His face dove to your neck, kissing a trail over your collarbone and down to your chest, his hands grabbing at your warm, supple flesh, every touch another reminder that you were very much alive.

He moved lower, sinking to his knees as he went, his mouth sucking and smearing wet kisses over your stomach and now your thighs.

Your hands wove through his hair, your breathy moans sounding above him as you anticipated the next part of you he would touch, giving him more evidence that he needed to forget the things his mind had tried to trick him into believing.

As Will met your cunt with his lips, slowly and tantalizingly licking through your folds, he vowed to spend every moment awake loving you, your body his refuge and temple to worship, your heart beating with a furious love just the same as his.

It was fairly quiet considering it was Sunday, and for that, Will was thankful.

You had already navigated the grocery store together, something he had come to appreciate more than you would ever understand, and were now making a quick stop at the hardware store.

Running errands with you put him at ease, the seemingly simple and mundane task typically a feat for him to tackle, but he knew he could face anything as long as he was with you.

“Oh, we should pop in the bakery after,” you suggested, looking out the window somewhat excitedly as Will parked in front of the hardware store beside it.

“You can run in now if you want.”

You turned your head to look at him questioningly, your eyes searching him to verify the confidence in his recommendation, clearly worried and always fully aware that he didn’t like going into stores solo.

“It’s okay, I can just go in with you and we can go together after,” you tried, only to make Will shake his head as he reached his hand over the console and took yours.

“I’m fine, I’m only grabbing light bulbs and some oil for the lawn mower, I promise I won’t hurt anyone.”

You smiled only when his own grin stretched out on his face, a look of understanding and surety appearing on your features.

“Okay, sounds good.”

You went to reach for the door handle, only to be stopped by him tugging the hand he wouldn’t let go of toward him, turning back to face him where he leaned over the center that separated the two seats.

“Not without a kiss,” he purred, looking at your lips through his long eyelashes that gleamed in the sunlight.

You smiled and met your lips with his, lingering a moment before you could get too carried away.

“See you soon, sweetheart.”

Will was thankful for his pleasant enough experience, quickly finding what he needed and reaching the cash register to check out without any interactions with anyone other than the older gentleman who owned the store and rang him through, walking out of the door that chimed as he left while tucking his wallet back in the back pocket of his jeans.

He looked up as he took a couple steps, only to stop dead in his tracks, seeing you standing outside the bakery having what looked like a too-friendly of a conversation with a man he had never seen before.

He did his best to assess the situation, trying to read the body language of both you and him, and the longer he took in the scene, the angrier he grew.

You seemed somewhat nervous or uncomfortable, touching your hair a little more than normal, taking a subtle step back as the man leaned in closer.

Your polite giggle filled the air, and the man beamed whenever you did, his eyes unashamedly flickering all over your body and constantly on your chest, making the rage inside Will bubble to the surface.

“I’d still really like to take you out for that dinner,” he heard the man say, and before Will could hesitate any longer, he was closing the distance between you.

The man smirked and tilted his head slightly, eyeing Will up and down when he approached and immediately landed his hand on the small of your back, glancing lower to watch you place your hand on Will’s stomach that rose and fell with deep breaths.

“Sorry…uh, I’m Cam,” he introduced, shooting Will a confused look as he extended his hand.

Will didn’t accept it, instead continuing to stare him down, his voice tense when he spoke.

“Did you get what you needed, sweetheart?” he asked you, still holding eye contact with the stranger he was imagining landing a right hook to his square jaw.

“Yeah, I did, I’m ready to go,” you said sweetly, a nervous shake noticeable in your voice.

Will could feel the tension coursing through you, your muscles rigid as you walked to the truck with his hand still on your back, looking at the ground until you reached the passenger door that he opened for you.

He closed it once you hopped in, glancing over at the man who was staring in your direction, Will remaining fixed in place until this ‘Cam’ finally surrendered and turned to walk away.

Will sighed as he walked around the front of the truck, getting in and closing the door, but not slamming it like he wanted to.

“Will I–” you began, stammering to explain.

“It’s fine,” he cut off, his tone sharp. “I broke up with you.”

He was more mad at himself than anything else, still unable to believe how stupid he was for having let you go, a flood of emotions running through his veins.

He breathed out slowly, nodding and closing his eyes when he felt the soft comfort of your hand cover his.

“How could I have expected it not to happen? Look at you, you're the most gorgeous woman in the world and I let you go.”

“Nothing happened,” you stated, the surety in your voice making Will turn to look at you. “I was out with Nicole and Grace and he came over to our table. He asked for my number and if I was interested in going for dinner with him. I wasn’t even thinking, I was numb…” you paused, the remembrance of your hurt plastered on your face. “I said yes but never followed through. I was in line at the bakery and he was there behind me and said hello.”

Will nodded, relieved at your words, but still found it difficult to come up with his own.

He swallowed hard and looked straight ahead out the windshield at the people passing by on the sidewalk, remembering all too well how it felt to know his ex was cheating on him every time he deployed, yet never once did he feel as possessive and threatened as he did now.

“You have nothing to worry about, Will,” you assured, squeezing his hand three times, giving a soft smile when he finally looked over at you. “I love you. I only want you, and that was the same even when you weren’t with me.”

Will leaned over and kissed you, hard and claiming, his hand holding the side of your face in a grip that told you just as much as his kiss did.

There was a mix of things in his wild, cerulean eyes when he pulled away from you, making your heart hammer even faster in your chest.

“I don’t think I’ll ever deserve you, sweetheart,” he began. “But I will spend every second trying to.”

---

Taglist:

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@paintlavillered @casa-boiardi @stealfromthedevil @kmc1989 @justreblogginfics

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[tendous-whore]

Girl I’m now obsessed with your blog! Your writing is incredible.

Is it okay if I request a continuation to your Naoya work but what would have happened if you had gotten pregnant with his child and had given birth to it safely. Idk why but I’d love to see some fluff with this asshole where he tries to fix his wrongs (and he’s got lots of fixing to do).

Have a nice day💖💖

omg you’re my 2nd ask 🥺 and thank you! I appreciate it so much!!

and yes. I’ve only written him as a punching bag, or the reader as his punching bag. but I actually have drafts of him that is more on the sweeter side >:)

so your request lines up really well! And I lOVE the idea 🥺 so I’m gonna stop rambling and just UHGGG write this beaut out 😩🤌 yuh enjoy <3

home is with you

(Pt. 2 to do you think of me?)

summary: (request) what would have happened if you’d gotten pregnant and gave birth to Naoya's child?

notes: unedited & long af. I could have drawn this out way longer but I just wanted to get out all the rawness and UGH 😭🤌

Time felt slow. It betrayed him in this moment, amplifying the rhythmic tap of his foot against the wood floor from his seat. He held himself upright, and to the naked eye, he fit the Zen’in image. Dignity, respect, and a class of what a man should look, and act as. But beneath it all, his hands grasped his knees, the pads of his fingers thumbing the expensive material mindlessly. His eyes, always sharp and focused, faltered in the way they darted from side to side, distracted. And his feet continued to tap tap tap.

“Naoya.”

Suddenly, the door opened, and the fine figure of a woman stepped out. Her body, wrapped in a silk kimono, the color of it being one of his favorite. He stood up, straightening himself before her as she quietly padded towards him. Your voice caught him off guard at first, he didn’t expect to see you so soon.

“Well?”

It’s not a question, but the depth of the word is enough to hang in the air for what feels like more than a minute, but probably only lasted a few seconds. He hesitates to say anymore, to ask, uncertain of the outcome, and of your answer, but he knows it’s important. How else would he find out if it was a success?

“The doctor said I am healthy.”

“That now is the perfect time.”

“I’m pregnant.”

He watches the way your face moves, the way your brows knit together in deep thought as you carefully picked the right words to say. But it’s enough for Naoya to understand. His eyes slowly take in your form, dragging down, and lingering at the obi tied above your waist. He thinks to himself, imagining what these next months would look like. How you’d look like.

“I’m pregnant.” You say again. Your face peers up at him, perplexed by his silence, or lack of reaction. It’s not what you expected, certainly not something you hoped for either. This has always been something your husband wanted, driven to fulfill this expectation of his. So naturally, it spooked you. But your words did not fall to deaf ears - Naoya heard you, loud and clear.

Before you can repeat yourself, the hand that hovers above your stomach finally makes contact. The initially feeling, something so unnatural, so intimate, has you pull away. But the firm grip of a second hand stills you, grounding you to your spot. Naoya doesn’t want you to move, not when he feels the warmth of your skin bleeding through the silk, radiating into his palm. He can feel each breath you take, the way your heart quickened. You were shaken, startled, and surprised.

And so was he.

He pictured the way your tummy would grow, how it would protrude against your kimonos and how over time, your obi would loosen more and more until you could no longer wear it. He could imagine each morning and night, waking up and ending the day with you by his side, curled against his chest, and his hands soothing the ache of carrying his child. It would be the least he could do for you, to show you in his own ways his appreciation.

To show you he cared.

“Naoya.”

That soft voice of yours snaps him back, back to this moment. With your hair swept back into a loose braid, pulled to the side, resting atop your shoulder. It’s not a style you normally wore, out of the regular norm but he didn’t mind it. In fact, he quite liked it. It suited you more, giving you a more gentle and mature look, as opposed to the typical bun you wore.

“Your hair is different today.” He says, reaching out and touching your hair. You feel the way his fingers play with it, twisting it between his pads curiously.

“Do you not like it?” You ask, but Naoya shakes his head.

“Quite the opposite.” He breaths.

His fingers comb through the hair, loosening the braid from its tie until his palm grasped your soft locks, and his fingers weaved through your fallen strands. It’s not something he hasn’t done before, in fact, many times before when he’d bed you every other night. But this wasn’t like that, this was different.

Naoya's gaze shifted over your face, something in those eyes of his eyes stirred, something you couldn’t recognize. But you had a feeling, an inkling of the man and his thoughts. You knew he would never voice them to you, but the change in the air between you spoke volumes. The way his hands caressed your skin, his thumb rubbing against your stomach absentmindedly, and the way his body pulled you closer than before.

It was unlike him.

“Excuse me.”

You're pulling away, pushing yourself out from his reach. And before he can trap you again, your turning on your heels and walking down the hall, away from Naoya. He watches your figure, as you drift further and further until you’re out of sight. There’s this urge to chase, to follow you until there was nowhere else to go but he doesn’t. He stays this way for a while, his eyes still trained down the corridor in the direction you hurried off in.

He didn’t blame you. You’d been nothing but a wife to him, serving him in all ways that you should. And like a mare, he bred you, and nothing more. You knew everything he liked, the way he liked his tea, to the way he liked his food warm, made just before he woke up, and when he returned home after a long day. It was the simple things, really. But when it came to you, he drew blanks. He hardly exchanged words, let alone held a conversation, other than barking orders and giving threats when you fucked up. You were just a pretty little doll, who dressed up and played house for him.

A complete stranger to Naoya.

He never thought to ask, in fact, there were many things he hadn’t done now that he gave it some thought. Before today, he’d never touched you so tenderly or told you what he thought. He’d always been calm and collected too, but he had never been so out of it, all because of you. It was not like him, and yet he couldn’t quite explain this feeling of his that pulled at his chest, clawing to be let out. It made him want to touch you, hold, and kiss you, not in the way that he needs, but wants. Was it so strange of him to feel this way towards his wife?

For you, it was.

When the news of your pregnancy was finally announced, you’d barely finished your seventh month. Naoya hardly left the house anymore if it meant leaving you alone, and grew more present in your day to day life. At first, it was strange but soon enough, you’d become adjusted to his antics, creeping behind you, his hands always found to be holding onto you at any given chance, and if he wasn’t, he was always within arms reach.

“Don’t push yourself.”

“Leave it to the servants.”

Don’t do this, don’t do that. You hardly did a thing anymore, not without him having something to say. But even you knew that the less he asked of you, was for a reason. Not that he ever voiced his concern, but you felt it in the way his hands held you, his arms always there to support your weight, and the way the edge in his voice soothed you, no longer pricking your skin like it did before. Everything about him had shifted. Even the air of the house, before, you could hardly stand the tense and lonely quietness. But now?

It was starting to feel like a home.

Your home.

“Naoya!” You gasp.

Your body doubles over, an arm cradling your bump as the other braced yourself against the counter for support. Your voice is stuck in your throat, your breath knocked from your lungs as your eyes shut close. There’s a burning in your chest, an ache within your abdomen, and it hurts. It always did, but you never did get used to the feeling.

Naoya doesn’t hesitate to rush to your side at the sound of your voice, not when you're barely standing on your own. His face peers into yours, his arms reaching out to support you, and pulling you towards his chest. He’s worried that something had happened, to the baby and you, but when you scrunch your face, cheeks puffed out, and fingers holding your stomach, he finds himself breathing again. It seemed with each day, the kicks grew stronger.

“It hurts.” You whisper, afraid to raise your voice anymore, scared that if you do, you won’t be able to swallow down that burning in the back of your throat. You don’t want to cry.

“I know.” He breathed. In moments like these, all he can do is ground you, soothe you with his arms, to remind you that he had you. He rubbed slow circles against your back, your bodies rocking side to side, as your face tucked against the crook of his neck. He always smelled of the mountain, of the air and wet dirt after a rainstorm, the scent so earthy and free. And although he spoke few, his deep and soft voice lulled you into a quiet hush, until you’re ready to stand, to breath and look at him.

“I’m okay.” The pain has subsided, but there’s something in your eye that eats away at you. You always were good at smiling, putting others before yourself, but he’s also figured you out, read you like a book. You are okay, but beneath that surface of yours, you’re also frightened. Afraid of the future, afraid of how much life will change, and most of all, afraid of birth. Make no mistake, you were excited, happy to be a part of this little family you’d give to Naoya, but you were human too. Doubts and worries riddled your head, and you feared the what if’s.

What if you disappointed him?

That something went wrong.

If you lost the baby.

What if you didn’t make it?

“Oh wife.” Naoya hushed.

“Don’t cry.” His hands cup your face, his thumbs catching the tears.

“I’m here, always.”

When his eyes looked at you, when he held you against his chest, there’s a bittersweetness to it all, his words holding a newer depth. The man you’d come to know was not the same man that cradled you in his arms, he had changed and so have you. You remember the night after your arrangement, how you’d accepted your reality, of a loveless marriage with Naoya. You would never expect the same things that he expected of you, it wasn’t your place to. But seven months ago, you began to notice the little things he’d do, and you saw the icy exterior that Naoya Zen’in guarded himself with slowly melt.

For you.

So as he holds you now, you smile and wrap your arms around him too. Your body molds to his, accepting his warmth as you listen to the steady beat of his heart. And you stay this way, for as long as you want, as long as he wants. Because it’s here, with Naoya, where you feel safe, at home, loved.

Your hand squeezed his. Naoya watched, holding your fingers in the palm of his hand, as he listened to your labored breaths. You hadn’t let him go, you wouldn’t, not when your eyes begged him to stay and so he did. It’d happened so sudden, one moment you were smiling to yourself, sitting so shy, so full at his side as he drank his tea. Then you weren’t. He recalls the way he pulled you off the floor from underneath the kotatsu with two hands, finished with lunch. But before he could steal a kiss, as his desert, his feet felt damp and your smile fell, and the both of you looked down and watched as your water had soaked the kimono and floor. Once it registered, Naoya yelled for his servants to prepare for you, and to fetch the midwives.

Your cries were hard to bear. He hated to see you in so much pain, but he braved on for your sake, telling you how good you were doing, reminding you to take deep breaths, just like you practiced. You were doing so well, listening to him as you pushed pushed pushed. Until your wails finally stopped, and the room sat still, and then he heard it. Smaller cries erupted from below the bed, as the midwives began to clean you up. And after you’d been cared for, and the baby had settled in a cradle set beside the bed, and everyone left, did Naoya breath again.

He didn’t know what to do with himself as he watched your figure, resting on the bed with new clean sheets as your chest raised up and down with even breaths. There were no complications whatsoever, but he still worried that as you brought life into his world, he would lose yours. He was relieved that you were recovering so well. His eyes drift over your face, to the wooden crib beside the bed.

You’d given birth to a healthy boy, a son. He’d seen many babies before, most ugly, but not his. He could see parts of you in him already, so serene and gentle as he slept soundly when he peered into the crib. He imagined the day he would lead the Zen’in, to bring honor to his name, but for now, in this moment, Naoya painted this image of you and your child in his mind forever. You made him want to cherish these memories, to remember the little things, to love.

“Can I see him?” Your voice draws him in, as you’re sat up. You’re visibly tired, exhausted from it all but there’s a look in your eye as you gaze towards the crib, longing to hold your baby. Naoya stands up from his seat against the wall, carefully picking up the tiny boy, sliding onto the edge of the bed, and placing him into your arms. When you take him and hold him to your chest, does Naoya notice how good motherhood looks on you. You smile, unaware of the eyes that watch you quietly, etching the way your fingers stroke the soft cheek of his son, and the noises he makes as he coos up at his mother.

“He’s beautiful.” You whisper.

And Naoya nods, but his eyes don’t ever leave your face.

“Yes.” He breaths.

“Beautiful.”

[ddarker-dreams]

Aaaaa that last Scara piece is *chef's kiss* and it really shows how not even illness can you keep you down when it comes to him, hehe

Lots of things I love about it. Reader is a champ, no doubt. Very sassy and spirited despite Scara being Scara. It's like the whole "unstoppable force meets unmovable object", but with how he lets her in, honestly it's more like "unstoppable force meets cracked wall covered in wallpaper" lmao. He sees his emotions as filthy and imperfections but she sees them as beautiful evidence that yes, you do have a heart, you clueless tin man. And when it comes to her emotions, he's all exasperated but undeniably drawn to her.

Really liked the prose itself, the flow and his voice.

A couple Inazumas might burn along the way, but it's okay, these two are precious together and Mr Kuni deserves to get a W every now and then😌

Now that the brainrot has (hopefully) calmed down, make sure you get some rest :3

i was so determined to work on this story .... just typing away on my laptop that's falling apart, wrapped up in a blanket, chugging tea and telling my body we're done when i say we're done .

honestly it's more like "unstoppable force meets cracked wall covered in wallpaper"

AHAHA omg i love this interpretation of scara and reader's dynamic it fits so well HTRJKMER reader set her eyes on him and was like yes. this disaster. he's the one for me. i will woo him if it's the death of me. tbh he was just amazed she didn't flee the second he was himself. normally that gets everyone running for the hills. we don't really get to see into reader's mind as much since i wanted this story to be entirely from scara's perspective, but it's like you said, she sees value in what he thinks is worthless. i'm honestly glad i didn't go for the much sadder story that i had in mind. sometimes we just need to see two idiots running around disgustingly in love (although scara won't admit it because ew that's gross).

I'M GLAD THE PROSE MADE SENSE........ that's what i was worried about the most 😭😭 my brain felt like goop but i did my best.

you're right about the destruction that will probably follow in their wake. those two are unhinged. i scrapped a line where reader jokingly said that if scara becomes a god, she'll be his head priest to help prevent the newfound religion from becoming a cult. gotta have someone running interference. 😌😌

thank you so much for sharing your thoughts!!! i'll do my best to rest up and keep drinking my gross healthy smoothies 💖

[youuuimeanmee]

The Spy X Family 1st Episode Omigad

It's a little fast-paced to my liking but it's incredibly good! It's incredible how they managed to fit 70+ pages into 1 episode without feeling too rushed. And there are lots to gush about, omg.

1. Right away, a banger jazzy soundtrack.

2.

The symbolism omg. Between Westalis and Ostania, there is fire. So. Fucking. Good.

3. I love how relatively calm the voice acting is. Not just Loid, but also Frankie. Even the bad guys! I was expecting the boss to yell a lot, but he didn't. Really gives off the secrecy vibes, which is the nuance of this cold war.

4. The added facial expression and movements that weren't in the mangaa asjadjfaaovt

5. Loid's voice o.m.g. Daddy I would melt in your arms. (sorry Anya, don't kill me Yor).

6. ANYAAA. SO CUTE. THE FACE. THE VOICE, SO CUTE. SO HNGGGHHH.

7. The sfx when Anya reads mind, omg that's actually really clever. Now we know when she reads someone's mind and when she's not. Clever.

8. Also love the subtle sparkles when she reads minds too. It's not too in the face. Nice.

9. The details in Loid's room when Anya was kidnapped??? OMG. This is gonna be spoiler-y. I'll put it under the 'read more' tab, but damn man. I hope it won't come back to bite the studio in the ass. I hope it enhances the manga instead, because damn. I'm sorry, but this is the only major complaint I have with this episode.

10. THE. ENDING. SONG. IT'S SOO CHILL RIGHT ON MY JAM 😭😭💖💖

11.

The way they portray Anya here makes her look smoler? Anya are you sure you're not 4?? And she has to go to school underaged too, the pressure man 😭. Anya sweetheart, whatever journey you'll get into in the future, you're doing great. You are extraordinary. Don't forget that.

12.

It's already super cute in the manga, but added with great cinematography, in time with the ED in the background?? YES. CUTIES. PRTECT AT ALL COST.

Easy 9.5/10.

Okay I'm done byeee 👋👋

Now for the spoiler part.

There's gonna be a moment in the future that might be a foreshadowing of Loid finding out Anya's true identity, but it won't happen in like 20+ chapters later. (I won't say which moment, in case there are anime-only here lol)

But this? Right on episode 1??

Twilight was so caught up in the moment, he doesn't even realize his spy kits are out in the open! Even though he should've been the only one who knew the code?? And wdym "from the looks of it" Twi, it's already clear they know you from the transmission!

I could've sworn the manga does not look like this. I have to check it since this kind of detail is so crucial, but...

First off, let's talk about the anime. Even without comparing it to the manga, those kind of details could be a MAJOR plot hole. His spy kits are lying on the floor AND USED, even though he's the only one who knows the code. Anya's doll is right there in his room. There's no sign of the closet being opened by force either, which means it must be opened by unlocking the coded lock. He's not careless, the possibility of him leaking out the code to the outside world is near 0. He says the code in his head, and the only time he locked the closet is when Anya is there. There is no way he won't suspect Anya being the culprit, yet, he doesn't. I try to give it a benefit of the doubt that maybe he's just too caught up in the moment to notice anything. But even if he does, I highly doubt he would miss important details like that; he's not the best spy in the country for nothing.

I love the attention to detail the studios has given us,but in this case, it could be a double-edged sword. What they intended to be a great forehadowing could very well be a plot hole. Like, he and Anya are moving after that! He should've taken care of his belongings! There is also a gap between this incident and Anya's test acceptance! It's plenty of time to evaluate Anya's kidnapping incident to prevent the same thing from happening. Why he didn't consider the possibility of Anya accidentally learning the code and messing around with his spy kits? Even if he doesn't find out about her ability, he could've at least considered other ways for her to get the code. If he had known it was her, he could've considered kicking her back to the orphanage for endangering his mission, or taking her to the witness protection since she found out he's a spy. But he didn't do that, which means he doesn't realize it was her. From that standpoint, he is stupid, which is not his character at all.

Now let's take a look at the manga.

Okay so I remember it right, it's not as blatant as in the anime.

In case you're asking, no, this scene doesn't bring any relevance in the manga. This apparent "plothole" was never brought up so far, because the manga doesn't have this issue. Due to how it was shown in the manga, it's implied that Anya covered her traces properly --like she returned Twilight's kits back to its place and locked it back, so the mess looks like it's caused by the goons searching up his room.

Who make that decision to add such spesific details on the scene? Was it the studios? Does the author know about this? Have they ask for their permission to add some things??

I refuse to believe WIT and CloverWorks would make such a huge error on the first episode. Again, I gave it a benefit of the doubt that maybe, it's the author themselves who asked them to add those details, as a canon improvement. Maybe it'll play a huge role in the manga. Who knows.

This is why I said I hope it doesn't come back to bite the studio's ass someday, so for now I'll just ignore it, haha.

[chernayawidow]

HOW DID I MISS THIS AHHHH!! Currently banging my head against the wall for missing this notification 😓 BUT I’M HERE NOW AND THATS WHAT MATTERS!!! LETS DO THIS BABY!

“You’d been getting ready for this dinner with your family for four hours. How long did it take you to slap on some makeup and throw on a dress?” — tsk tsk Ben, he’ll learn eventually that makeup and hair are an art you can’t rush… I leave an hour for each stage of getting ready. An hour for hair, an hour for makeup, an hour for picking an outfit, plus an extra hour in case I run behind in any category 🤣

“You had a black suede clutch tucked in your other hand, but Ben was drawn to the bright red of your dress. The color alone appealed to him. It called back a memory of a musty club, rich whiskey, and the dulcet tones of your voice.” — I love the nostalgia of her wearing a red dress, and the call back to when he first saw her in one that night in the club 🫶

“But now, this dress was shorter. It also hugged your every curve and stopped just a few inches above the knee. He noticed a tantalizing little slit in the back, at the hem, leading his eyes down your sheer pantyhose and down to the tall, black heels.” — This sounds like such a crisp fit! I can literally always count on you for some amazing outfits, and the description of this makes it so easy to picture!

“They raked back up your body, taking in the short sleeves, the slight plunge of the neckline, the red lipstick as bright as your dress, the soft sweep of eyeliner and dark lashes—and you hoped he noticed the way you’d painstakingly done your hair into soft, ‘40s style waves.” — HELL YEAH!! Plunge necklines for the win!! And the hair?? I love love LOVE that detail, and I’m sure Ben would too heheh! 😮‍💨

“Gotta match my girl,” said Ben. Though he fingered the ends of your softly curled hair with a more genuine glint to his smile. “Though you’ve gone a bit vintage.” — THEY’RE SO CUTE OMGGG!!! Him modernising for her, and Pookie dipping her toe into the vintage era for him 🥹

“I gotta assume you want me to fuck you in your mom’s house.” — Benjamin, that would entail messing up the hair and makeup that took ages to perfect 🖐️

“Now that was an image. Soldier Boy: browsing through a magazine of women’s jewelry. You smiled brightly at him.” — Ben was probably giggling and kicking his feet as he imagined his Pookie wearing the things in the catalogue 😂

“Ben hesitated, but when he glanced over at you, he reached over and thumbed at your chin, under those ruby red lips. It made you smile.” — They’re so damn cute 😭💖

“When the two of you arrived at your mother’s house, she opened the door to her home and greeted your boyfriend like a long-lost son.” — this line is really funny when you remember that he’s probably old enough to be her grandfather, if not her great grandfather 🤣

““What should we call you? Ben, or Soldier Boy?” she asked dryly.” — Louisa naurrrrr, be nice to the radioactive Supe! 💀

“You remained in the kitchen to help out, while Ben migrated to the living room with your grandfather.” — Oh my goodness, of course he did 🤣

“Ben blinked at the casual mention of oxycodone, but he wouldn’t mind a few of what Sylvia was having. Oxy gave him such a nice buzz.” — Ben this is why we can’t have nice things!

“You’d told him about Alexa and Siri and all those techno bitches out there now, controlling people’s houses. He didn’t trust it.” — Omg this is such a funny concept to me, Ben learning about all of this shit would be hilarious 🤣 and it’s even funnier that he doesn’t trust it LMAOO!!

“Mets versus the Cubs, three to one.” — When I see ‘Mets’ it reminds me of a club we have in Brisbane called ‘The Met’.

““You like baseball?” George asked as he turned on the TV. Ben nodded, and the other man put on a game.” — He’s getting to hangout with someone closer to his own age for once, good ol’ grandpa bonding💀

“George raised a brow. “Did he? Well, we all need a glass every now and then.”” — This interaction is making me WHEEZE! 😂

“She didn’t want to take any chances with your dad, who’d been more than unstable at the time in his drinking.” — Stan grandma for clear skin. At least Ben can’t hit on her with her being dead…

“Ben didn’t often pray. But he drank then with a silent toast, that good ole’ Jon was getting hot coals up the ass right about now. In hell.” — Cheers to that, fuck Jon!

“George gave him a wry look. “The fate that all men fear. Ass cancer.”” — I LOVE GRANDPA GEORGE!!! His sense of humour is 🤌

“Ben actually smiled. Now he knew you were related to this man.” — This is so adorable, I love that he gets to have a positive interaction like this. I think I know who he’s gonna gravitate too for family gatherings…

“Shit. There was more than one reason you hadn’t told the rest of your family yet, and this was partly it. How the hell were you supposed to explain this?” — Oh it’s easy, just say that one of his dipshit employees at the time kidnapped you for no good reason, and so Soldier Boy nobly… uhh… kept you on house arrest, and eventually killed aforementioned dipshit.

““So was your father. And you still worked with him for years,” she remarked, even off-handedly as she went back to stirring.” — Trina I swear to god I’ll king hit you if this is how it’s gonna be. That’s an extremely low blow you bitch, leave my Pookie alone. Her boyfriend is literally radioactive! 😒

“Your aunt shrugged. “It’s the truth, isn’t it?”” — Does this mean that EVERYONE can spit the truth? Because Trina I’ve gotta say, you’re a big mouthed slag who nobody likes because you give thoughts that nobody even asked for 🤙

“I’m really happy for you, sweetheart. You’ve got a superhero! Who knew you’d pull that one off, huh?” — TRINA YOU SLUTBAG THAT WAS SO OUTTA POCKET!

“But your hips, hun. I mean, I enjoy a snack. A bon bon. A chocolate eclair. The occasional croissant, but the weight don’t come off easier as you get older, does it?” — OH I HOPE WE GET TO THROW HANDS WITH THIS BITCH!! Trina nobody likes a person who constantly says unsolicited and personal bitchy things, and yet you just can’t help but open your mouth 🙄

“And have you talked about kids yet? That’ll be some serious weight gain.” — Trina why the fuck are you so obsessed with weight?? Who HURT you?

“I’m just sayin’!” she said. “He might have forever, but you certainly don’t.” — PLEASEEEEE TELL ME WE GET TO BEAT THIS BITCH UP! She may be family, but if that doesn’t matter to her, then surely we get a pass too!

“Okay, you know what?” Louisa finally stepped in and grabbed your arm. “I need your help. Let’s find the red tablecloth so we can set the table.” — NO LOUISA FUCK OFF! TRINA NEEDS HER ASS BEAT AND HUMBLED THE FUCK UP! 😒

“There you found Ben immersed in a baseball game with Grandpa George. Both men only looked up at you when you stood near the couch with crossed arms.” — This is priceless 😂

“George chuckled and patted you warmly on the back. “Why do you think I’m out here?”” — Grandpa is a wise and very smart man for that!

“I need you,” you whispered in his ear. “Now.” — Ben’s getting his wish… 😮‍💨 although she’s game to risk ruining her hair and makeup, I will say that.

Ben’s intro to her family was less chaotic then I thought, he funnily enough just got to chill with the oldies. Poor Pookie was the one copping the heat 😓 man fuck Trina! I’m lucky enough not to have an aunt Trina, and if I did, I would get into soooo many arguments with her! No fucks given! It was fun to see Ben and George interact though, I was curious to see how he might react to his granddaughter dating a man as old as he is and I love that it wasn’t even brought up. Stan George for clear skin! I’m so glad I don’t have to wait for the next chapter 😮‍💨 keen as to read that one!!!

Love Actually - Part 2

Paring: Soldier Boy/Ben x Reader

Summary: You and Ben steel yourselves in order to meet your crazy family for Christmas dinner.

AN: Here’s the requested Part 2! It got too long, so I had to break it up lol. There will be a Part 3 after this (final part). I also tried really hard to find an image/gif that would match this chapter better, but alas, there are only so many pictures of this scruffy guy. (And none in a real suit. 😂)

Read Part 1

Remember, this story is set in the same world as “Break Me Down,” and set before “Checkerboard.” But this can be read as a stand-alone! Hope you enjoy…

Word Count: 4,800 Tags/Warnings: Tense situations, bit of angst, lots of sexy fluff

Part 2: "Season’s Greetings"

Ben checked his watched again. 

He’d lost count of how many times, how many minutes, how long he’d been waiting for you to come down the goddamn stairs so he could get this night over with. 

You’d been getting ready for this dinner with your family for four hours. How long did it take you to slap on some makeup and throw on a dress?

Finally, he heaved a sigh and got up from the couch, adjusting the watch on his wrist. He stayed by the foot of the stairs and called up to you.

“Hey. What’s taking so damn long?” he asked. His brows were furrowed, mouth set in an aggravated frown. “I already told you. I’m not planning on being at this thing all night. So if you don’t come down here in the next ten minutes, I swear to fucking Christ—” 

Ben stopped short, as he heard your footsteps at the top of the stairs. When he looked up with expectant, pursed lips, his face subtly froze. 

“What? What’re you gonna do?” you teased. Tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, you grasped the guardrail and carefully made your way down the stairs. These heels were no joke. 

You had a black suede clutch tucked in your other hand, but Ben was drawn to the bright red of your dress. The color alone appealed to him. It called back a memory of a musty club, rich whiskey, and the dulcet tones of your voice.

But now, this dress was shorter. It also hugged your every curve and stopped just a few inches above the knee. He noticed a tantalizing little slit in the back, at the hem, leading his eyes down your sheer pantyhose and down to the tall, black heels.

His lips formed a teasing smile. “You sure you can walk in those?” 

But you could see the truth in his eyes; he liked what he saw. They raked back up your body, taking in the short sleeves, the slight plunge of the neckline, the red lipstick as bright as your dress, the soft sweep of eyeliner and dark lashes—and you hoped he noticed the way you’d painstakingly done your hair into soft, ‘40s style waves.

“Do I look shaky to you?” you countered.

Ben tilted his head slightly as he stared up at you. “Not one bit.”

He reached out for you on the last step of the stairs. You took his hand and gave him a grateful look, but your hand didn’t stop there. It grazed up the sleeve of his suit jacket as you took him in with a smile.

Not often one to don a simple black suit, Ben went with a charcoal gray against a crisp black undershirt. No tie though, leaving the first couple of buttons casually open. 

“Look at my man, all sharp and modern and sexy as hell,” you purred. He accepted the praise with a pleased quirk of his lips. 

Normally you wouldn’t try to feed his peacock-level pride too much. He knew he was a damn fine-looking man. However, you also knew he wasn’t totally into meeting the rest of your family tonight. You knew you needed to give him a (well earned) ego boost.

“Gotta match my girl,” said Ben. Though he fingered the ends of your softly curled hair with a more genuine glint to his smile. “Though you’ve gone a bit vintage.”

“Compromise.” You grinned, and you leaned up for a soft kiss. 

He met you there, even pressing his luck when his tongue begged entrance against your lips. You held his cheek and brushed your thumb there tenderly, but you soon broke away. 

“We’ve got somewhere to be,” you reminded him. Ben sighed through his nose, though his hands molded to your waist.  

“I didn’t realize you were that kinky,” he said. His voice was deep and suggestive. Your face started to heat up, even as your brows knitted with confusion.

“What?” you asked. 

“I know you’re not gonna make me wait all night to get a taste of this,” he said. And he leaned down to begin plying you with his heavy hands and his lips along your neck. “I gotta assume you want me to fuck you in your mom’s house.”

You uttered a shocked laugh. You batted his shoulder, even though it didn’t even make him blink. His lips curved as they grazed your neck. He inhaled under your ear, making a pleasant shudder run down your spine. He hummed in approval.

“Is that the perfume I got you?” he asked. 

“Mhmm,” you nodded. “I like it a lot. Makes me feel all warm and spicy.”

Ben chuckled into your neck. He did pull back eventually to thumb around the edge of one of your earrings—the second part of his Christmas gift to you. The white stone and silver filigree shone in the light. 

“They look good,” he remarked, giving you a charming smile. “Better on you than the catalogue girl.”

Now that was an image. Soldier Boy: browsing through a magazine of women’s jewelry. You smiled brightly at him. 

“Thank you, baby,” you replied. “They really are beautiful.”

Then you glanced down to find your gift to him on his wrist: a new silver Rolex. You turned his hand over to make sure that it fit him right.

“Not too tight, right? Not too loose.” you asked.

He shook his head. “Nah, it’s good.”

“Just good? Does it still need adjusting? We can go back to the store and have them fix it—”

“It’s perfect, sweetheart. Stop fussing,” he said. Your lips pursed as you looked up at him from the watch. 

“I just want to make sure you’re happy with it, that’s all,” you said. 

“I am,” he replied. But his smile, the hidden glint of something in his eyes, made you blush. Inside, you were warm and pleased.  

“All right, let’s go then,” you said. “I’ve got the rum cake, and the actual rum ready to go in the kitchen. And the presents are lined up by the door. Can you load those up in the car for me while I get the food?”

Ben obliged you, though he soon balked at the army of presents waiting for him by the door. When did you have time to get all of these? He didn’t remember you buying all this shit. 

Though he realized, this must’ve been how you filled your time after work, while he was gone for the past two weeks on that mission. 

As he loaded the gifts into the car, Ben reluctantly remembered that it had been…strange, to be away from you. For the past few months, you two had fallen into a rhythm. Waking up to each other, busy morning routines before work, sharing your evenings afterwards. 

You had also been making it your mission to find new things to do together. Like paintballing, of all things. Or comedy shows, new movies and restaurants, concerts, club nights with your friends. Though it was weird for him, sometimes, to go to a show without all the celebrity fanfare he used to get as Soldier Boy.    

Well, he was still Soldier Boy. He just wasn’t getting paid anywhere near the same as he used to. (But let’s face it, he didn’t need the damn money. He’d earned plenty in 40 years of fame and family inheritance.) 

People still knew his name, still worshiped him at times, but it wasn’t the same. He wasn’t part of Vought’s machine anymore. No one really told him what to do, but if he wanted this life—here, in upstate New York—he was forced to make efforts to color within the lines of the law (mostly). Hell, he actually worked for a living. Even if it was for the government.  

The point was, he was part of something. And it wasn’t totally shit, even if he was surrounded by morons on a daily basis…  

By the time you opened the passenger side door to interrupt his musings, Ben remembered to actually start the car. 

“You okay?” you asked as you clicked in your seatbelt. You were keeping a close eye on him tonight, trying to gauge his shifting moods. 

Ben hesitated, but when he glanced over at you, he reached over and thumbed at your chin, under those ruby red lips. It made you smile. 

“Yeah,” he replied. Though he let out a subtle breath as he faced the road and took the wheel of the car. Ever perceptive though, you sent him an assessing look. 

“You’re not nervous, are you?” you asked. His brows furrowed slightly.

“Why would I be?” he asked, his voice a bit sharp. Defensive, you interpreted. 

Instead of answering, you leaned over and laid a hand on his thigh.

“Look, my mom already likes you. Louisa’s going to come around,” you said. Your mouth edged into a smile, of sorts. “I just need you to stop me from killing my aunt with a ladle.” 

Ben snorted in response. “All right.”

When the two of you arrived at your mother’s house, she opened the door to her home and greeted your boyfriend like a long-lost son. 

“Oh, Ben! Come in, please,” she beckoned, grabbing his arm and guiding him inside. “You look so handsome, my goodness!” 

Ben couldn’t help offering a smile. It was infused with his usual charm. 

“Marie,” he greeted with a nod. You shook your head, despite your own smile. Ben liked attention—along with a bit of praise and fanfare went without saying. And you knew your mom wouldn’t be the only one to play into that tonight. 

“Hi, Mom,” you said pointedly, with a hand on your hip. Marie turned to you with a bright smile. 

“Oh! Honey, there you are. Merry Christmas!” She brought you in and hugged you tight. She then fairly gushed as she took in your dress and touched your hair. “Oh, you look so beautiful. I wish you’d come earlier though. I need you to help me and Trina. Come on.”

Marie glanced up at Ben again. “Oh, you too, hun! We can introduce you to everyone.”

Ben nodded. He followed your lead behind your mother, and you inwardly steeled yourself on the way to the kitchen. The familiar smells awaiting you brought you back to the better parts of your childhood. Ones that were filled with music, laughs, and good food.    

And if there was one redeeming quality about your Aunt Trina, it was that she could cook her ass off. Since your mom had always been more of the “boxed meal” variety cook, Trina always took over at Thanksgiving and Christmas, and just about every other family gathering. 

She was putting the ham in the oven while your sister sat at the kitchen table with your Grandpa George, peeling potatoes. The bigger table in the dining room was currently set up with appetizers and wine. 

But the sounds of chatter and pots and pans and cabinets closing—it all stopped when you and Ben entered the kitchen. You felt his hand at the small of your back, and whether he meant it to or not, that familiar touch stabilized you. 

Even Trina stopped giving Louisa directions on how to correctly peel and cut the potatoes for boiling. Her mouth opened when she took in the sight of Ben, from head to toe. 

“Good evening,” he said, if only to break the silence. 

But you knew the rest was up to you. You curled a hand around his solid arm and gave him a smile, before looking to your family. 

“Hey, guys. Merry Christmas!” you greeted. “This is my boyfriend, Ben.”

Trina squealed in excitement. She came over (with a wooden spoon in hand) to give you an enthusiastic hug and kiss. She held your arms and looked between you and Ben. 

“Your mom said you were dating a superhero, but I had no idea…” she twittered. “I mean…it’s Soldier Boy. He’s in my kitchen!” 

“It’s Mom’s kitchen, actually,” you muttered. Trina’s excitement dimmed slightly as she rolled her eyes at you.

“Ever the smart mouth,” she said, playfully whacking you in the ass with her spoon. 

Ben smirked. He certainly agreed with your aunt’s assessment. He turned to her to offer something in greeting, but before he could, Louisa’s voice cut in from across the room. 

“What should we call you? Ben, or Soldier Boy?” she asked dryly. 

You frowned, gave your sister a look. Meanwhile, Ben didn’t quite make it to a smile, but he was civil when he answered her. 

“Ben’s fine.”

You remained in the kitchen to help out, while Ben migrated to the living room with your grandfather. Ben grabbed a large glass of wine on his way there, along with a few mini quiche to tide him over until dinner. 

He then noticed an old woman sleeping on the leather recliner. 

“Who’s that?” he asked George. 

“Oh, that’s Great Aunt Sylvia,” George said. “She just took an oxy for her hip. She’ll be passed out ‘til dinner.”  

Ben blinked at the casual mention of oxycodone, but he wouldn’t mind a few of what Sylvia was having. Oxy gave him such a nice buzz. 

But instead, he and George sat on opposite ends of the couch while Sylvia snored away. 

For a moment, it was quiet, save for the soft crooning of Nat King Cole playing (and Sylvia). The music came from a small round speaker on the coffee table, Ben noticed. You’d told him about Alexa and Siri and all those techno bitches out there now, controlling people’s houses. He didn’t trust it. 

“You like baseball?” George asked as he turned on the TV. Ben nodded, and the other man put on a game. Mets versus the Cubs, three to one. The men were silent for a while as they watched the game. 

Unfortunately for Ben, that peace couldn’t last. 

“So,” George started. “You’re a supe, huh?”

Ben inclined his head, sipping at his wine. This was what he fucking hated. Small talk. 

“I remember you,” George said. “My wife and I liked that movie you made…King of Kings. With Charlton Heston. What a classic that guy was.”

Ben smiled. “He was a good time. Drank like a fucking fish.”

George raised a brow. “Did he? Well, we all need a glass every now and then.”

Ben nodded, taking a pointed sip of his wine. 

“Heston. One of the few celebrities I gave a shit about when he died,” George said with a shake of his head. “Wasn’t long before my wife’s passing.”

You’d told Ben a lot about your grandmother. When your parents got divorced, she’d insisted that you, your mom, and your sister live with her and George. She didn’t want to take any chances with your dad, who’d been more than unstable at the time in his drinking. 

Ben didn’t often pray. But he drank then with a silent toast, that good ole’ Jon was getting hot coals up the ass right about now. In hell.

Ben then considered your grandfather’s musings, realizing he hadn’t thought about his old pal Heston in a long time.  

“How’d he die?” Ben asked. George glanced over at him.

“Well, official case was pneumonia. But it wasn’t all that clear,” he said. “However, I think he had a flare up.”

“Of what?” Ben asked.

George gave him a wry look. “The fate that all men fear. Ass cancer.”

Ben raised a brow, his mouth twitching. He had a feeling he knew where your sense of humor came from. 

“You probably don’t have to worry about that,” George waved a dismissive hand. “You’re still young. Well, sort of…I mean, being superhuman and all that. I’m sure that comes in handy with the normal stuff, like the sniffles and whatnot…and hey! At least you won’t have to worry about your asshole fallin’ out.”

Ben actually smiled. Now he knew you were related to this man. 

In the kitchen, you were trying and failing to dodge a game of “Twenty Questions” with your aunt, while you and your sister finished cutting potatoes. All of the questions were predictably centered around Ben. Luckily, you had a plate of mini quiche, cheese, and salami between you and Louisa to keep you pacified. 

“Well, you’ve done well for yourself, I’ll give you that,” Trina said. “But why on God’s green Earth didn’t you tell us you were dating Soldier Boy? How the hell did you even meet him?”

Shit. There was more than one reason you hadn’t told the rest of your family yet, and this was partly it. How the hell were you supposed to explain this? 

Louisa shot you a knowing look, along with a raised brow. 

“Well, I was actually assigned to find him after he…went missing last year,” you said, keeping things purposefully vague. “We met and…things just kind of took off from there.”

Your mom and your sister didn’t even know all the details, but they knew this much. After Soldier Boy used his nuclear power to end Homelander, he’d escaped in the aftermath. 

You’d been working a year in Surveillance at Supe Affairs, but you’d been a private investigator by trade, previously working at your father’s firm. You’d even worked at Vought for a few years, before joining the S.A. 

You were then recruited by Grace Mallory to track down Soldier Boy, along with Butcher and his team. 

…And that’s where things got complicated. 

“But isn’t Soldier Boy the one who killed Homelander?” Trina asked. She stopped in her stirring of the cranberry sauce to look back at you. And you met her stare directly. 

“Yes. He was partnered with the CIA on that.” Sort of. You added, “Homelander wasn’t the hero you all thought you knew, remember? He was a raging psychopath.”

Trina huffed at that. 

“So was your father. And you still worked with him for years,” she remarked, even off-handedly as she went back to stirring.

Your entire body stilled. Inside, your temper was a lit fuse, preparing to ignite. You stuffed a mini quiche into your mouth to stop you from exploding. 

And your mom and your sister recognized the danger. Louisa frowned tightly and touched your arm. 

She had been too young to form a true relationship with your father by the time your parents were divorced, and your grandparents (and later you) hadn’t allowed Jon to interfere too much with Louisa's life. So Jon’s death, a mere seven months ago, hadn’t truly affected her as deeply as it had you. 

And that in itself was complicated. 

Marie paused in preparing the sweet potato casserole to give her sister a warning look. 

“Trina, that’s not fair,” said Marie. 

Your aunt shrugged. “It’s the truth, isn’t it?”

Slowly, you stood. You grabbed a hand towel and brushed the velvety remains of potato skin from your hands. You also took the plate of cheese cubes and salami with you. 

“Honey, she just means—” 

“I know what she meant, Mom,” you said. Your mother wasn’t confrontational. She would never tell her sister to shut the fuck up when she was being out of pocket. 

But you had no problem doing so. You walked over to Trina, who saw the look in your eye and actually relented, realizing that there was, in fact, a line, and she had crossed it. 

“Look, I’d like us to continue having a nice evening,” you told her. “Mention my father again, and it won’t be.” 

After a moment, Trina nodded. 

“You’re right. I shouldn’t have said that. Don’t mind me,” she said. But then, she smiled. “I’m really happy for you, sweetheart. You’ve got a superhero! Who knew you’d pull that one off, huh?”

Your flat smile remained. “Oh, yeah? How do you mean?” 

Trina faltered. Apparently, she hadn’t expected that. 

“Oh. Well, you know…”

“No. I really don’t. Can you clarify for me?” you asked, using the same even tone you employed with testy co-workers on the Surveillance team. 

Trina sighed. “Oh, honey. You’re a beautiful girl, but…”

“What?” you challenged. “Just say it.”

Behind Trina’s coil of dark hair piled on her head, Marie looked worried. Louisa was also on tenterhooks, gripping the kitchen table. She slowly got to her feet though, in case she needed to intervene. 

“Well, I wasn’t gonna say anything,” Trina said. She gestured to you, after grabbing a cheese cube off your plate. “But your hips, hun. I mean, I enjoy a snack. A bon bon. A chocolate eclair. The occasional croissant, but the weight don’t come off easier as you get older, does it?” 

You were officially burning like a tea kettle.  

“And with a man like that…” Trina fanned herself with the discarded, empty bag of cranberries. “Mother of God. He’s gotta be beating ‘em off with a fucking stick.” 

Your mom pursed her lips at the salty language, giving Trina a sharp glance (for multiple reasons). 

Trina noticed, but she only popped another piece of salami into her mouth. “Sorry, hun.” 

But then she turned back to you. 

“And have you talked about kids yet? That’ll be some serious weight gain.” 

You let out a sharp breath and raised your gaze heavenward, pleading for mercy. 

“Jesus Christ,” you muttered.  

“I’m just sayin’!” she said. “He might have forever, but you certainly don’t.” 

Now that one struck a nerve. Perhaps not the one she intended, but it cut deeply into you all the same. You and Ben had agreed to pin that conversation for now, but the fact was, he would continue to age much slower than you. 

At your steely glare, Trina again raised her hands. This time in placating defense. “I’m trying to help you, is all I’m saying.” 

You gripped the edge of the kitchen counter so tight you thought a manicured nail might break off. You’d reached the end of your tether. 

“I’ve been here for all of five minutes—” 

“Okay, you know what?” Louisa finally stepped in and grabbed your arm. “I need your help. Let’s find the red tablecloth so we can set the table.”

She led you out of the kitchen and into the hall, but you stopped short so fast that you skidded a bit in your heels. You took deep breaths and braced a hand against the wall.  

You turned to your sister. “Why doesn’t she attack you like that?” 

“Oh, believe me,” Louisa said, rolling her eyes. “I had my turn before you got here. I’ve been locked in with these clucking hens all morning.” 

A grin twitched at the corner of your lips. 

“My condolences,” you said. But then, you look at your sister a bit harder. “And you. What’s your problem, huh? How long are you going to give Ben a hard time?” 

It took her a moment, but Louisa eventually sighed. 

“I mean, Aunt Trina’s an asshole, but she kind of said it. He’s literally a century-years-old,” she said. “How do you not have a problem with that?” 

You crossed your arms, though you knew you didn’t have a good answer for that one. 

“Age is…relative.” You struggled against a wince. 

“He lived through the damn Dust Bowl,” Louisa deadpanned. “He’s fucking ancient.” 

You glared back at her. “Okay, enough. What’s your real problem, huh? I mean really.”

Louisa let out another sigh. Her hands went to her hips. You hadn’t had a chance to tell her, but she looked pretty tonight too in her black dress. It flared at the waist and reached her knees, and she’d paired it with some chunky red heels. She was a little taller than you normally, but not by much. As the older sister, you enjoyed finally being taller than her for once in your higher heels. 

Still, you were annoyed with her right now. You sensed she had something deeper against Ben, and it wasn’t all about his age. When she eventually answered, it just confirmed your suspicions. 

“He’s dangerous,” she said at last. “He’s so fucking dangerous.” 

That disheartened you. Your lips pressed, and you held onto your own arms a bit tighter. 

“Not to me,” you replied. Louisa’s frown deepened as her brows knitted together.

“Especially to you,” she said. “He kidnapped you.” 

You gave a wan smile. “Not technically.” 

That had been one of his subordinates, who’d taken you outside of Ben’s orders…

It was a long and complicated story, but basically, it had worked out for both of you in the end. 

Louisa gave you a more incredulous look. “He’s got an atomic bomb in his chest.” 

“He’s working on controlling it,” you insisted. “He’s gotten a lot better!” 

Louisa threw her hands upward in exasperation and turned to leave you in the hall. You stopped her with a hand on her arm. 

“Look, I get it,” you said, meeting her gaze directly. “You’re worried about me. But here’s the thing…you don’t have to do that. I’m the one who looks out for you, remember?” 

Once again, she frowned at you. “Why, just because you’re older?” 

You gave her a teasing smile. 

“Well, yeah.” Still, you grasped both of her arms, now crossed in front of her chest. “Lou, haven’t I always taken care of you?” 

“Okay, yeah,” she said. “But who takes care of you? Who makes sure you’re all right?” 

You gave her a patient, if knowing look. 

She grimaced. “Oh, don’t you say it.” 

“Honestly, Lou. He does take care of me…he makes me feel safe.” You bit your lip, and your eyes began to well up with the sting of tears, emotion rising in your throat. “I’ve never had that. Ever.” 

Your sister released a heavy sigh. “I know.” 

“Then can you actually try to get to know him? Please?” You rubbed her arms, pleading with your eyes. You wanted your family to like your boyfriend, but it was so much more than that. You didn’t want to have separate worlds. Everyone in this house was part of your family, and that now included Ben.

The longer she looked into your imploring eyes, Louisa’s grimace lightened, just a touch. “I’ll think about it.” 

You smiled then, warmly as you hugged your sister. You then kissed her on the cheek, leaving the bright red imprint of your lipstick.

When you went back into the kitchen, your better mood was ruined pretty quickly by watching your aunt run your mother around the kitchen with demands and instructions. You decided to jump into the fray, taking a large serving bowl out of Marie’s hands before it tipped over.

“How’s the ham doing?” you asked. 

“About half an hour or so, I think,” Trina said. “Maybe forty-five.”

“Okay, and what’s left?”

“Let’s get the desserts ready.”

While your help sorely relieved your mother, it was actually a terrible idea for your mental health. When you could take no more of Trina’s irritating, commanding voice in your ear, you had to take a breath (as well as down a full glass of wine). 

You wordlessly asked Louisa to tag in for you before you traveled into the living room. 

There you found Ben immersed in a baseball game with Grandpa George. Both men only looked up at you when you stood near the couch with crossed arms. Your nerves were on edge, your blood still just short of boiling, but you took pains to look pleasant.

“Who’s winning?” you asked.

Ben quirked a smile at the sight of you, while George gave his more freely.

“5 to 3. It’s close on the Mets,” he said. You realized then that you hadn’t even hugged your grandfather yet. 

“Oh my God, Grandpa! I’m so sorry,” you said with a frown. You went over to hug him. “Trina has me all out of whack.”

George chuckled and patted you warmly on the back. “Why do you think I’m out here?”

You sighed with a wry smile. You then turned to Great Aunt Sylvia, who was still passed out in the recliner. 

“Aunt Sylvia?” you tried. You went over to her and touched her arm. 

“Leave her be, hun,” George told you. “Only the smell of food’ll rouse that woman.” 

Your smile deepened. Then you turned to Ben, who’d been watching you with reserved interest. He’d never seen you with the rest of your family before.

You went to him on his side of the couch and asked, in a tone deceptively light, “How about a tour of the house? You haven’t even seen it all.”

He could admit, it was a fairly big house for just your mother, but he was more interested in the game. 

“I’m watching this,” he said, gesturing at the screen. However, when he saw the tight press of your lips, he knew something wasn’t right with you. You were trying to tell him something with your eyes, he just didn’t know what.

You leaned down, subtly grabbing his thigh.

“I need you,” you whispered in his ear. “Now.” 

The tone of your voice set his blood alight with new interest.

Ben’s resulting smirk was subtle, but edged. 

“A tour it is.” 

AN: Just when you thought you'd seen the last of my BMD cliffhangers. 😏

How'd you like Ben's introduction to his girlfriend's family? I also sincerely hope you don't have an "Aunt Trina" in your life. 🙄

Next Time:

He grabbed your arms and meant to kiss you, but you stopped him with your fingers against his lips. 

“Two rules: this lipstick doesn’t come off. And no. Ripping. The dress.”

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[jaylaxies]

IM SORREYDJSN I HAVE SO MANY HD PHOTOS OF JENO SAVED IN MY BOOKMARKS (as well as Hyuck ones brb 👀) and every time I saved them a little voice in my head would go “Aria would like this yes save it” and god u are so right!! Jeno to me is a lot of things; he is gorgeous, his is so adorable (that fuckin eyesmile… im gonna eat him) and he is soooo so hot too like damn okay 😭 fitting every version of what beauty is to me i guess

AND HELLO i will never shut up about how Jeno would do so well if he did modeling on the side too because he really knows his angles like he does so well in every photo shoot they have i could go on and on and on 😔💖 so it’s kinda making me proud that he’s gonna walk the fashion runway too!!

NICS IM CRYING THIS IS SO CUTE?? no because whenever i see jeno or hyuck, and of course, mork lee, i get reminded of you😭‼️ EYESMILE OH GOD, i first noticed him in dnyl and oh god, ive been so down bad for him ever since </3 he's really pretty 💔

HE'S GOT A MODEL FACE AND BODY he's literally such a fine man i swear id do anything to see him modelling 🗣️ and im really proud of him omg he went from acting to being an idol and now he's a model 😭‼️😭‼️

[eyelessdoll-y]

i wanna ask, what sort of traits or features you're specially attracted to Kanato, it could be anything such as his fucking hot voice (i mean i myself love yuki kaji ♡(> ਊ <)♡), appearance or behaviour, anything?

Hmm, good question!!! I myself to this day question myself on this same topic KKKKK

Hiii!!! 🥰🥰💖 thanks for the ask!! And well, if you ask then I'll tell you a bit about me and my reasons to like so much Kanato!

What attracts me most about Kanato is his appearance mostly!! And I do not say that is the cute and his childish face, but for his aesthetics! His style, clothes, accessories, and well the iconic purple hair😩😩💜💜

Since I was a child I was extremely attracted by the purple color, a good example are the barbie movies where I was NEVER Barbie herself but her FRIEND in a purple dress KSKSKKS Not just on the barbie which I was a fan of, but anywhere where there was a character in purple I already looooved im just a weak for the purple color. Movies, animes, mangas, animations, cartoons: It was always purple.

Here are Yumi from Hi Hi Puffy AmiYumi; MY QUEEN Ino Yamanaka from Naruto (since 9 yrs until this day im her biggest fan😭😭💜) ; Plum Pudding from Strawberry Shortcake; Barbie princess & Popstar; Viveca from Barbie and the 3 Musketeers ; Alexa from Barbie and the Diamond Castle grrr I just love girls and purple princess 😩😩💜😭

And coincidentally, Kanato has this exact same palette of purple colors yeah???? 💜💜😭 (despite being a "normal" girl and then talking ab a sick)

But beyond that, Kanato brings with it a more androgen and feminine appearance to a certain extent and come on, I'm a weak bi for this too. His eyes are soooo lovely, he must have such a sweet smell and such a delicate touch. Just imagining his soft, cold fingers I get so 💖🥰💖💖🥰🥰💕💖💖💕🥰🥴🥴🥴🥴🥴

Moreover, for having grown up as an emo addicted to black color I today greatly appreciate and gothic culture, a bit of pastel fashion too!! 🥰🥰 I love these pinterest Victorian outfits and if I could I would wear them until I die!! But as a 19 yrs in a tropical country with beaches, I will never be able to wear it because of the heat.

And well, I know Kanato would show up wearing lolita clothes but I'm not a big fan of that boy/girl childish aesthetic, and I prefer to imagine him just wearing more comfortable and softer black/pastel clothes. Something like pastel goth.

So well!!! To like Diabolik Lovers, each of us has to have peculiar and sadistic tastes to some extent, especially in the case of beautiful young vampires soooo to like strange, morbid, dubious, seductive characters and omg Kanato fits in that mainly 😱???!!!!! I Met him by anime in 2016 at my 13 years and i wasn't very interested, but at the age of my 17 years I saw him through the anime once again and those dark circles... the fangs... the blood... purple hair, the clothes and his voice... cmonnn his skin is almost gray and he's in love with death and dolls, he looks sick psycho and obssessive there's any way to like him even more??? Kkkkkk🤪🤪 idk i've always liked weird and eccentric characters more.

His voice is also a great... cosiness. I fell in love with his voice because I love singers of beautiful voices and songs, usually. Just an old to like orchestra and opera😓 let's not fail to notice that Kanato suits in that in therms of music, like the ones I mostly like that is "Nocturne" of Frédéric Chopin and "The nutcracker" of Tchaikovsky (the one the most suits Kanato 🗣️).

Kanato has one of the most yummy voices and grunts in the franchise and that I came to hear in all my life. It's so sweet and smooth while it manages to sound wicked and dirty 😩 It's mesmerizing. He's tasty asf 💜 I could hear him sing without complaining in no time.

Now finally, a question!! You know that saying where the characters we like the most are the ones who look like us?? Yeah!! That one!

I am OBVIOUSLY not like Kanato, nor do I share the same experiences and traumas as him. But I don't know, I like the "healthy" and sweet mature part of him, because that's where I most identify. Mostly the arts part, make works and sculptures, sing, sew and practice handmadet 😭😭💕💕💖💖💖💖💖💖💖

Now the all the mental disorder, toxic gaslighting red flags (oh I hate that about him 🙄 just shut the fuck up) and that necro preference I'd rather discard!!!!!! Yk I swear if he came up with these pranks up I'd kill him just with my eyes 😡.

I also love psychoanalysis!!! From solving math homework to putting together puzzles, I enjoy studying and fixing things!! Kanato's mind is still a mystery to me, and I love mysteries. Everything has a reason, I want to study every piece of his brain and fix him💖💖😓😓

So I say I can fix him, and I will!! 😼😼💕💕 (in my dreams 🥲)

And it ends here, I get kind of weird when I talk a lot about myself JSJSJSJSKS and now, could you tell me about yourself??? You can message me or send an more ask telling me about your ideas and tastes!! 💕💕💖💖

I hope I have met your expectations!! Kisses!! 😘😘😘