#they have a stressful job and they are all sleep deprived look at me. they are passing out on him and he's just staying. so still.

[quietwingsinthesky]

do u guys think jack ever let members of the torchwood team fall asleep on him in the backseat. because i do.

[m-ilkiee]

Monsters: Mikey Sano x Reader x Izana Kurokawa

Chapter 2: Shots Fired

series summary: your grievous sin was Emma standing up for you to her brothers. and now you’re going to pay the heavy price for destroying their perfect family dynamic.

chapter summary: Izana Kurokawa demands your attention and he doesn’t take no for an answer. Not even when his demands are outrageous.

cw: DARK CONTENT, MISOGYNY, NSFW, r*pe mention, religious guilt, depictions of PTSD and CPTSD, emotional incest, abandoment issues, violence, revenge porn, depression, filming without consent, drugging, implied domestic abuse, victim blaming, blackmailing, manipulation, gaslighting, mind break, psychological torture, use of firearms

r-18+ (not suitable for 17 and under)

wc: 11.6k

[masterlist] [chapter 1] [chapter 3] [taglist]

a/n: likes are nice, comments and reblogs with comments are superior, anons are also superior too and would make me update faster cause it means people like what i write. this chapter takes an entirely different turn from the old story, some scenes are similar but the context is different. i host polls after this so stay tuned. Edit 02/11/2024: this chapter's end has been edited and changed. I've indicated the edited point, so that you could skip other parts to read it. Thank you.

 YOU haven’t been able to stay asleep for the past few days.

It’s easy to fall asleep after a hard and stressful day at school and your part-time job. Your limbs ache from all the walking and lugging a bookbag far heavier than what you could handle -since all your e-textbooks were on your (now destroyed) laptop and phones were not allowed during lectures. And working from 5pm until 9pm at a restaurant, serving food to rude, overbearing customers only to be paid in pieces was another added stress in itself.

Not to mention, studying until the words are bleary and just looking at a book hurts your eyes.

But then, in all your dreams, everything you’ve pushed to the back of your memory is at the forefront. Your dream starts typically, your normal school day, waking up, dressing in your cute little blue crop sweater and jean skirt with socks. You go to classes, and then you see Mikey’s car waiting for Emma.

Things take a different turn. He’s the one getting out of the car to meet you. It’s like a siren call, him holding out his hand for you to take despite someone screaming for you to stop. You try to reject him, try to run away like the voice said but you end up getting trapped. This time, he’s not using his hands. He’s fully sheathed inside you, robbing you of the thing you hold so dear while you kick, bite and claw at him until you wake up screaming, sweat soaked all over your sheets.

You consistently dream of being violently raped by Manjiro Sano.

The next few hours until sunrise were equally horrible. You’re quietly sobbing into your pillows, praying to God to forgive you for letting Mikey touch you in the first place, assuming your reason for having such dreams was God’s divine judgement for your grievous sin. You’ve lost count on how many Bible verses you stay up reading until your eyes are bleary and the sun comes up.

No matter how much you pray and how many times you recite psalms 127 before you sleep, you can never escape Mikey in the world of dreams. He’s a virus that has invaded your thoughts, corrupting every dream you had and twisted them into nightmares.

You don’t know how long you can hold on being this sleep deprived. It’s been impairing your school life, trying to find a way to stay awake during classes only for you to fall asleep and miss the rest of it. Even when you got notes from the person next to you, reading them was always difficult because your eyes hurt so much.

Work was even more taxing and stressful, rush week adding more stress than you could ever imagine. You found yourself spacing out more than usual when you were supposed to be taking orders. You were unable to keep up with the fast paced environment, your body feeling like a ton of bricks with every moment you make. Your eyes were heavy lidded, tired from forcing them open throughout the day.

You were so, so tired-

“Hello! Are you sleeping on me young lady?” A voice snapped at you.

Your eyes shot open and immediately you stood back straight. You must have been dozing off while taking the older lady’s order -the very thing you’ve been trying to avoid all day long. “No, not at all Ms-” you started to explain. “-I was just … what was your order aga-”

You flinched when the woman angrily slammed her fist on the table, shutting you up instantly! “So you were sleeping on the job! What kind of establishment allows this?” She screamed, attracting the attention of customers around. “I need to speak to your manager. NOW!”

You instantly began to panic at the mention of your manager. If he heard any of this, he was definitely going to fire you. You cannot afford to lose this job right now, with all your school expenses and saving up money for next session’s tuition.

“No mam!” you begged, keeping your voice even as you tried to reason with her. “Th-there’s no need for that! Please! Let me take your order and I’ll-” you racked your brain for an excuse, knowing fully well your establishment does not offer free meals. “- I’ll pay for your meal! On me-”

“So you’re trying to imply I’m poor?” She interrupted you again, her tempo even higher than before. “You disrespectful little wretch! How dare you? GET ME YOUR MANAGER RIGHT NOW!”

You started begging the older woman, trying to calm her down and de-escalate the situation, but each plea only fuelled her rage. By now, every customer, every employee and just anyone in that place watched you grovel and beg this woman to calm down, some people even videoing your altercation. Your body was trembling as she screeched in your ears, calling you all sorts of names while you relentlessly apologised to her.

“What is going on here?”

You winced at the sound of your manager’s voice emerging from the backrooms. You stood stiffly as he walked to your side, using his shoulder to nudge you out of the way. “Is there something wrong Ms.?” He asked the lady. “What happened?”

“This little wretch!” She practically screeched at you, her finger wagging straight at your hung face. “She was sleeping while I was ordering! And when I pointed it out to her calmly, she called me a hag!”

Your eyes snapped open. You can tolerate people yelling at you, but lying is out of the question. “I did not call you anything! That’s a lie-”

“You be quiet!” Your manager yelled at you, silencing you. He turned to face the woman again, apologising profusely for your so called rude behaviour. “I promise you mam, she will be dealt with accordingly. Your order is in the house, please take that as a token of our humble apology and forgive us.”

You stood there in shock as the woman smirked satisfactorily at her now free meal. “Well, you better get rid of her!” She snarked, eyes scanning you up and down, plopping back down on her seat. “Or you’ll lose me as a patron.”

“Of course mam.” He said sweetly before switching his countenance towards you into a more irritated one. “You, come with me.”

You lowered your head once again in disappointment as you started following your manager towards the back rooms, your head lowered in shame as the eyes followed your every move to your damnation waiting for you in the manager’s office.

Your skin crawled as you felt his penetrating gaze on you, as if judging you. “You know how many complaints I have received this week just from you, (name)? How many orders you’ve messed up?”

You shook your head no in response, not trusting yourself to say anything reasonable at this point. He eyes you up and down again before scoffing at you rudely. “I only let you stay here because you said you were desperate for a job. But apparently, you’re not even bothered enough to keep it.” He spat out. “Unfortunately for you, this is the end of the road for you here. Change out of your uniform and leave.”

“But s-”

“I said you’re FIRED. GET OUT.”

You sighed weakly, obeying your now ex-manager’s order and leaving the office. You ignored the eyes of everyone watching you exchange the too tight black jeans and green top uniform back to your white bohemian skirt and light blue top with your white jacket. Calmly, you packed your school bag and everything you owned with you and slung it over your shoulder, replacing the uniform back to the locker, dropping the key on top.

No one said goodbye to you as you left through the back door.

  IZANA knows it's creepy to be waiting for Emma just outside her college, but it's not like he has a choice when she keeps ignoring any method he uses to contact her.

Mindlessly, he fiddled with his lighter with his back on the wall of the English department building and an unlit cigarette between his lips. Purple eyes scanned the people leaving the building one by one, hoping to find a mop of golden hair amongst the students. His hopes rose with each blond he saw, only for him to deflate when he realised they weren't her.

A few minutes passed and still no sign of Emma. Deciding that he didn’t want to stand around and gape, Izana lifted his lighter towards his cigarette, flicking the light twice and bringing the warm flame to his lips. Breathing in the familiar scent of nicotine, smoke filled his lungs as he tucked the lighter back in his pockets. His free hand took the cigarette from his lips and he exhaled, releasing plumes of smoke from his lips.

His smoking habit had gotten worse within the past week. Izana couldn’t help it, reaching for a light anytime he saw his gifts in the dustbin. Emma hasn’t been this angry at him before. Usually a new plushie was enough to wash his sins clean, no matter how grevious they were. Now, not even the most expensive shoes she’s been eyeing for months could satiate her anger.

All because of you.

Izana knows his little sister like the back of his hand. Like how she loved sleeping with plushies because it comforted her whenever their mother brought her gambling friends into the house and they were loud. Or how he picked up a guitar to learn multiple barbie songs because their mother had destroyed Emma’s CD that he bought with his money to punish her. He knew she liked warm tea during her periods and gentle back rubs to ease her pain. He’s not the best person to be around, with how fucked over he was by life until Shinichiro gave him purpose but he loved his sister a lot and everything he did was to protect her. Life hardened him, made him so jaded that the only thin thread connecting him to his humanity was Emma and he’d do anything to protect his humanity.

Only to watch it slip through his fingers.

First it was Mikey’s stupid friend, Ken Ryugi, who waltzed his way into Emma’s life. Izana didn’t like him one bit- didn’t like how Emma would bite her lip, waiting for him to reply and cry herself to sleep when he didn’t. Her heart was soft, fragile and that brute tore it apart by telling her he wasn’t interested in a relationship yet.

The only reason Ken wasn’t in an unmarked, shallow grave in the middle of nowhere was simply because Mikey was involved.

Now it is you, taking the space in her life that belonged to him and Mikey. You’re pushing both of them out of the equation, threatening their position in their sister’s life and everything they know.

Izana wonders how someone so insignificant was so important to Emma that she was willing to cut communications with her own brothers. It baffles him beyond understanding and at the same time enrages him that she could trust you so easily. That she was willing to turn against him in your name.

He took more puffs, skimming throughout the campus for any sight of her. It didn’t matter how he felt about it, as Kisaki had convinced him to ask Emma and you to go shopping, just to get back into Emma's good graces again. Apparently doing a nice gesture publicly for you would convince their sister to give them another chance again.

Especially because Izana had been the biggest opposition to their friendship.

“But Mikey was a little shit about them too.” he grumbles underneath his breath, cigarette in hand. “Why do I have to be the one to apologise? And why did Mikey get an out while I’m doing all the heavy lift-”

His thoughts were cut short the second he caught sight of a familiar blonde hair bouncing in the wind and stood up straight, tossing the cigarette to the floor and crushing it underneath his black shoes, before rushing to catch up to his little sister.

Izana pushed through the throng of people, violently shoving anyone that got in his way until he finally fell in step with her, slowing down to match her pace. Without wasting time, his hand curled around the girl’s wrist, stopping her in her tracks instantly and earning a shocked gasp escaped her lips.

“Get off me - Izana?”

Her free hand was fast to hit him, but her head was faster in turning around, only to recognize it was just Izana. Her hand stopped inches away from the smirking male’s face, the tension leaving her body and relief taking its place. It doesn’t last long, though as irritation suddenly crawls on her face, instantly displeased at his actions. “What the hell? I’ve told you to stop doing that.” she hissed at him.

A mischievous grin made its way to his face at Emma’s irritation. She always had a pout whenever she was angry at him and it made look even more adorable.

“Were you scared?” He teased, pulling Emma closer to him until she was practically smushed at his side, despite the glare she gave him in response. “You know no one would dare touch you.”

“Get off me. Your breath stinks like nicotine, I thought you said you quit smoking that shit.”

Ignoring Emma’s last question, he decided to change the topic. “Your lapdog isn't here with you?” he asked. Usually, you would be hovering behind her like a damn pest, so you not being around her was rather strange. 

Emma is quick to shove him off lightly, putting some distance between the two of them, clearly still mad at him. "(Name)'s not feeling well, so she didn't come to class today. I'm on my way to get her medicine."

Oh, that's a surprise.

But with you out of the way, Izana could finally have Emma all to himself for today and hang out with his beloved sister. Maybe even make up for the party thing without apologising to you. Without you here, it’s likely Emma isn’t as mad at the whole situation and is playing it up to make you feel like you have someone on your side.

He knows you’re not going to protest if Emma says she’s in talking terms with her brothers again. It’s a win-win situation and he doesn’t have to grovel or ask for forgiveness for some joke that went wrong.

"So that means we can hang out?"

"Excuse me?"

"You don't have to keep pretending you're still mad at me now that she isn't here." He spews the 'she' with so much venom it could kill, before switching up with a sick grin, his hand stretched out. "We can go to Vivienne Westwood and get that Saturn necklace you like, what do you say?"

His words hung in the air as Emma trailed her pointed glare from his hand, back to his cheerful visage. She crossed her arms in response slowly, her yellow eyes burning holes into his face as her lips curled into a sick sneer.

“Are you insane?”

“What?”

“Don’t ‘what?’ me Izana! I just told you (name)'s ill and you're asking me to go with you to shop at Vivienne westwood? Are you nuts?”

Emma’s voice was loud enough to garner wandering eyes of other by-standers, watching the event go down. Izana kept his composure, despite his bubbling irritation beneath the surface of his skin, with a smile -albeit stiffer than before. ‘She’s just being emotional’ Izana whispered to himself, still trying to be rational. ‘Just take it easy with her’

“Oh come on, should I care about her-"

"You should be begging her to forgive you for what you did to her that night!"

"You can't still be mad at me for that shit that happened two weeks ago. And besides, it's not my fault she couldn't take a joke” his words were smooth, buttery, flowing out of his lips like it was the truth, digging his own grave. “I didn’t know your friend was that sensitive-”

“Are you listening to the bullshit coming from your mouth?” Emma roared, her voice echoing throughout the entirety of the department, her face red with fury. Izana had never seen his own beloved sister ever look at him with such disgust in her eyes, her teeth gnashing against each other and hands at her side, clenching against each other. “Is that what you think a joke sounds like?”

“Calm the fuck dow-”

“No wonder you’re fucking single, you’re such a piece of shit to anyone that isn’t Shinichiro!” Emma screamed, interrupting Izana once again, her temper fiery enough to burn a hole on the ground she stood with how heated she was. “How does anyone even stand you for so long? You’re unbearable!”

“Excuse m-”

He doesn’t like where the conversation is going, with how furious Emma was right now. He tried to raise a comforting hand to Emma’s shoulder to ease her tension but she was quick to smack it away from her hard, stinging his fingers a little.

“You’re so unpleasant, how do you even have any friends? How do they tolerate you? To think (name) wanted me to forgive you! Thank god you aren’t my fucking brother, I can’t imagine being anything like you!”

The words left her mouth before she could stop herself.

It was as if the world froze over for Izana. He stood there, wide eyed, his heart beating loudly in his chest as all the voices around him faded into the background. His hand extended weakly at his side, mouth drying up as a lump formed in his throat. 

“I-I-i" she starts to stutter. It’s obvious that she can recognize what she had just said as he blankly stared at her. "I didn't mean i-”

He doesn’t let her finish, turning on his heel and walking away as fast as possible. People were quick to clear out of his way, not wanting to be his target of aggression. Emma followed behind, instantly, shouting his name at the top of her lungs followed with strings of apologies.

“Izana, wait please-” she screamed from the crowd of people, tears streaming from her yellow eyes. He continued to ignore her as he hopped on his bike, sliding in the key and revving up the engine before she could reach him.

Izana zoomed away, turning Emma’s cries into background noise, her words repeating in his head.

“I didn’t mean it! I’M SORRY-”

YOU don't know which was worse, the feeling of helplessness that came with the reality of your life crashing before your very eyes or the splitting headache you've developed after crying in your room for a week straight. Laying on your bed all day, huddled up in a blanket and sobbing uncontrollably was unhealthy, but it was all you found the strength to do these days. 

In all your years of being alive, you've never felt this pathetic. Not when you would be pushed outside in the pouring rain if you made a mistake in making dinner, or had been beaten with a belt in front of Yuzhua and Hakkai because you failed your catechism test. You could protect yourself from your brothers when they got violent. You could run and hide when your dad was really angry and wanted to take it out on you.

Unfortunately, no one told you what to do when your life is falling apart.

Ever since that day, you couldn't find the strength to go to class or do anything for that matter. It was like your entire energy was sucked out of you, leaving your body an empty husk with nothing left to give. 

You only have yourself to blame.

You drag the blankets closer to your body, sniffling a bit. The worst part of all of this is that after this month, if you don’t find a job that pays you quickly, you are going to be broke. It’s times like this that makes you regret leaving your family. You know it’s wishful thinking, but you wonder if you would be forgiven assuming you return home in tears and repentant of your sin of disobedience like the prodigal son in the bible. Life is too hard to live in the outside world without the help and guidance of a parent. You miss your old life, with your own bed and guaranteed food, as long as you did as you were told. You miss how sometimes your parents took you and your siblings to eat out after church.

You miss your mother. You want to go back to her. Life is hard, and dealing with being jobless with nowhere to turn to is harder. You could ask Emma, but she’s already taking care of you and there was no way you would bother your friend about your money problems.

"Hey babes, I got the medicine for you."

Emma's soft voice rouses you out of your self-pity session. The wood creaks underneath her heels as she walks to your bed and takes a seat besides you, the mattress dipping underneath her weight. The scent of her Vivienne Westwood wafting through your nostrils fills you with a sense of warmth, familiarity and at the same time, dread.

You feel guilty. Perhaps it's because you don't know how to tell Emma what exactly is wrong with you. It's easier to give her the half-truth that you caught a stomach bug than say everything. If you even as much as hinted that Manjiro had something to do with the real reason you were a sobbing mess on your bed, you're sure she would overreact and fight with her brothers again.

But still, not telling her meant you were keeping secrets from her. Something you both promised not to ever do as you two became best-friends.

‘It’s for her own good.’ you try to justify it. ‘It’s better I keep my mouth shut.’

Pushing that thought at the back of your mind, you roll over to her direction, pulling down your blanket just a little bit to see her properly. Your heart drops at the sadness etched onto Emma’s face, a forlorn look in her eyes. You hated seeing her down, yet all you’ve been doing for the past few months since you came into her life was causing her pain. You know how it feels to lose family, no matter how bad they were to you and Emma is no different.

“Hey”

Your voice is hoarse from your constant crying, but Emma doesn’t mention it as she reaches a hand to caress your face. “You look better than yesterday. You up to eat?”

You nodded briefly, realising how hungry you were. You’ve barely had an appetite to eat anything, so your rations had been smaller and compact until you regained it back bit by bit, thanks to Emma’s constant care. Pushing yourself up, you sit up and yawn, quickly covering your mouth the moment a bad stench emanates from it. Emma’s face quickly grows sour as well, probably smelling it too.

“You haven’t showered.”

“Uhhh-”

You knew there was no excuse for that one as Emma put the food and medicine away before yanking you off the bed while talking about how gross you were for not showering throughout today. “You’re a girl (name), don’t do this to yourself, c’mon-”

“But-” you start to whine, trying to defend yourself. “I was tired-”

“Nope!” she retorted, pushing you towards the bathroom. “No excuses! I swear you’re acting like Mikey when he’s in one of his moods-”

The room falls silent at her words, the cheerful aura dropping the second Emma realises what she’s said, a wave of guilt washing over her face as she lets go of your hands.

“Fuck- I’m sorry (name)...”

Your heart aches at how heartbroken she sounds right now and shatters even further at the fact that everything, every problem they were experiencing right now was all your fault. You saw it deep in Mikey’s eyes how much pain and suffering your presence in their family had caused, and how his anger reflected that action towards you. You’ve been so entrenched in your own problems that you forgot the mess you made in their family.

“Emma, you miss them don’t you?”

‘It’s not too late.’ You mutter to yourself, your heart in your throat as you steel your resolve. You couldn’t let her make that mistake you made by leaving your family aside. You don’t want Emma to be like you.

“(Name), please don’t-”

“You can’t keep ignoring them forever.” You cut her short, speaking directly to her now. “You can’t keep ignoring Draken either too. You’re miserable.”

“I’m fin-”

“Emma no.” You snap at her, finally having enough of her stubbornness as anger swells up in you. “I see how sad you look everytime you look at your pictures with your big brothers and Draken. Do you think that it’s healthy to keep ignoring them like this?”

“You were the one they hurt, you shouldn’t feel bad for them-”

“It doesn’t matter! I don’t matter!” You yell desperately, now pulling away from her grasp in an attempt to put your foot down. “They are the ones who matter a lot. Those are you family members! People who love you and have protected you for years! Just talk it out with them! They miss you for god’s sake!”

“What the hell do you mean you don’t matter?” Emma roars back at you, suddenly enraged by your outburst. You nearly stumble back at how angry she sounded, fear creeping into your skin as your verbal claws retract. “You matter to me! You mean the world to me as any of them do! You’re my best friend and I love you and if they don’t understand that then there is nothing to make up for!”

By the time she was done yelling, her breathing was heavy and her eyes so intense you couldn’t even stare at her. Your eyes quickly flickered to your feet instead; scared of seeing the disappointment on her face and terrified of her anger. You didn’t like it when Emma yelled, it reminded you of your mother getting angry at you, something you hated doing to her.

Eventually, she took a deep breath and took a step closer to you, her hand intertwined with yours. “Come on, I’ll help you shower.”

You silently follow behind her, eyes downcast and shoulders slumped.

  PERHAPS Izana should be angry at Emma.

It would be justified after the words she said from her mouth, but he can’t because he knows the truth. Emma was just angry as well and she didn’t mean any of the words she had said to hurt him. She said them because of you, however and he realises that every fight they’ve had is over your presence in her life.

Which meant that the true culprit was you.

People may believe in love at first sight, but from the first day Izana set his eyes on you, he could only feel hatred towards you. You were just there, sitting awkwardly while Emma tried to involve you in their conversation and it irked him.

At first, Izana thought it was the fact that the both of you were clashing personalities that made him feel that way, but then you keep getting in his way and ruining things for him. He hates everything about you - the way you picked your finger when you were nervous. Your bright smile you gave to only Emma and how easy it was for her to like you. Just your mere presence in general was enough to set him off because of how simple it was for you to be close to Emma while you barely knew her. It felt like he was losing his only sister to a stranger, and now the Emma who stands in front of him is a mere mockery of his real sister.

And that’s the frustrating part. He can’t do anything to hurt you. He’s smart enough to know that if he does, Emma would never forgive him.

“... Kurokawa, are you here with us?”

Izana snaps back to reality as Kisaki taps the table three times to get his attention. ‘I might have spaced out.’ He thinks to himself before facing the entirety of the table; Tetta Kisaki, the rather shrewd and ruthless dealer sitting, his equally irritating lap dog Shuji Hanma and the little shit that he called his younger brother, Mikey.

Speaking of Mikey, ever since that day he made that phone call and revealed his brand new plan of accepting you into their friend group, he’s been very quiet. Even throughout today’s meeting, he hasn’t said a word, aside from mentioning that Draken was going to be absent and asking where Kakucho was before the meeting began.

And knowing his brother, a quiet Mikey is a suspicious Mikey.

Now that Izana thinks about it, he’s noticed that Mikey, who was on his side initially had suddenly switched to trying to apologise to you. Which was weird, considering how egocentric Mikey could be on the topic of apologising. Izana has his suspicions, but then again Mikey is unpredictable due to his rather dark impulses, so he couldn’t really say anything yet, until Kakucho came back from his task.

Izana cleared his throat and faced Kisaki again, deciding to be as honest as possible. After all, it’s their fault that he’s in this mess, might as well remind them. “Just thinking about how Emma practically called me a bastard and I’m supposed to be okay with it.” He said nonchalantly and the air in the room shifted into an uncomfortable silence for the upteenth time this week ever since that unfortunate day. It isn’t surprising to anyone as to why though, Izana’s complicated relationship with the Sano’s is a sore topic that no one ever dared to bring up.

From Kisaki’s tight lipped expression, Izana is sure that the younger male is picking his words carefully in his head. Even Hanma who would have laughed or said something to intentionally piss off Izana remains silent. Eventually, Kisaki lets out a resigned sigh. “The audit would be done another time.” He states in a cool tone, putting his laptop aside before facing the two brothers. “It’s obvious we’re not gonna do anything useful until you resolve this issue with Emma and her friend.”

“Really?” The white haired male mocks, causing Kisaki to shift in his place, an irritated frown creasing his face. “would you like to hear my pla-”

“We’re not going to kill a civilian and draw attention to ourselves, Izana. I’ve already told you what to do.” Kisaki snapped back, his yellow eyes darting from Izana to Mikey, before narrowing in irritation. “Both of you. Just apologise to (name), it’s not that hard. You don’t even have to mean it, the girl won’t even know the difference-”

“Ah yes, cause that went well the last time.”

“And whose fault is that? I clearly told you to say “I’m sorry” and all you did was make things worse!”

“I’m just brutally honest.” Izana spits back. “And you can’t blame me because I tried, compared to Mikey who sits on his damn ass and has done nothing-”

“I wasn’t the one who called her a cheap hooker!” Mikey interjects defensively, sitting upright after staying quiet from the start of this meeting, finally saying something.

“Oh, so you can speak.” Izana retorts back, his voice cold. Mikey is so good at shifting blame onto others for actions he has a hand in, especially when he knows it would reflect badly on him. Unfortunately, Izana has been in this game longer than his little brother. “I thought you had gone mute with the way you don’t want to talk about the issue beyond pushing me to apologise to her.”

“You don’t make it any easier with how you talk to people.” Mikey hisses back, his tempo rising with each word, but Izana can hear the slight shake in his voice, almost as if he’s hiding something. “How am I supposed to do anything if you keep saying shit like you’re glad (name)’s gone?”

(Name)?

The entire room falls silent at Mikey’s sudden outburst, or rather what Mikey had just said. No one says a word as they all stare at Mikey in shock, eye wide and mouth hanging open like he’d grown two heads. There’s a glimmer of confusion in the dark eyed male before the realisation of his mistake washes over him, his facial expression changing into a mixture of guilt and pure terror.

As if he’s been caught doing something he shouldn’t have.

It’s unmistaken. Izana knows his brother is hiding something and it has to do with you. “You’ve never,” he starts slowly, never taking his eyes off Mikey, gauging his facial expression. “called her by her name. You only call girls who you had something to do with by their name.”

“I-”

“You fucked her, didn’t you.” it’s a statement, not a question. Mikey grows pale and it's more of a sure answer than anything else at all.

“I didn’t do anything bad… she’s still a virgin-”

“What.” Kisaki, interjecting as well, cuts him off, his voice cold. “Did. You. Do?”

Mikey is silent. It’s brief and doesn’t last long as he finally seals his fate with a quiet voice. “It’s not my fucking fault, she wore a short skirt and she was asking for it-”

At the side, Kisaki crumples back onto the dining table seat, his head in his hands muttering a quiet “Oh fuck, I should have stayed with Osanai.” as he shakes in disbelief. Hanma just sits there, clearly perturbed, not knowing how to react but at the same time, not really interested.

“Glad to know I’m not the only screw up.” Izana scoffs as well. Despite how cheery his voice sounded, the furious look on his face says a different story altogether. “Since apparently you’re just as stupid as I am.”

Mikey runs a hand through his golden locs, frustration evident on his features. No one has ever seen him look so frantic, like a little kid who broke something and is trying to hide it. “I didn’t do anything wrong. Sure she said no at first but I knew she wanted it when she relaxed in my touch-”

“That’s not what Emma’s gonna think, you idiot!” Izana barks at him angrily, his temper finally off the rails. “You practically threw away your entire plan before it even started! All for what? Mediocre pussy you could get from some other girl? And you know how Shin is about this shit. If Emma finds out and tells him, we’re screwed!”

There’s a mixture of emotions swirling in Izana right now. The urge to punch Mikey was strong, for daring to not only lie to his face, but also making him look like a fool to cover his ass.

Then again, he knows it’s really not Mikey’s fault but yours. You must have done something to make Mikey hurt you because he knows his little brother doesn’t hurt girls. You have this effect of turning people into worse versions of themselves, making them disgusting, evil and hateful.

You turned Emma against them and now you made Mikey’s dark impulses come out.

It’s you that’s the problem.

“So what anyone find out? They won’t believe her” Mikey snarls back, irritated. “She can’t blame me, I told her to fucking leave but she didn’t listen! She was practically begging me to fuck her-”

“ENOUGH!”

Kisaki’s voice is loud enough to silence the two brothers, ending their argument instantly as they breathe heavily from their prior screaming match. Izana slumps back on his seat as Kisaki sits up straight, eyes narrowed. Mikey does the same as Izana, his jaw tightly clenched as he crosses his arms on his chest, feet crossed. The younger male clears his throat, and starts to rationalise the situation.

“It’s obvious that we’re going to switch gears since this happened. We all have a curated reputation that we need to protect so that people don’t nose into our business.” He turns to Mikey who is still glaring hard at Izana. “Your brother has a point, you fucked up our plan by not telling anyone what you did-”

“You judging me too, Kisaki?”

“Can you stop being defensive for once Mikey and just listen!” Kisaki scolds, just about done with everyone making things more difficult for him. “I don’t care what you did to her, whatever affection or lust you have for her is a you problem. I just want this situation to be in our favour.”

The statement makes Izana scoff in dismal fashion, but he decides to ask out of curiosity regardless. “And how do you intend to turn this situation around? Cause right now she has leverage over us and any careless move can put us in a tougher spot than we can handle.”

Kisaki turns his attention fully towards Izana again, a knowing look on his face as he asks. “Is Kakucho done searching Mikey’s car?”

‘How did he know?’ Izana blinks, but then catches Hanma smirking and doesn’t bother to ask his impending questions. Kisaki always had a nasty and suspicious habit of continuously tailing him specifically, and usually it doesn’t go over Izana’s radar when it happens, apart from this instance. Which meant someone was being a rat in his group.

He’ll deal with that later.

Mikey raised a brow in confusion as well, opening his mouth to protest the invasion of his privacy when Izana’s phone suddenly rings. He picks it up, attempting to step out to answer it when Kisaki raises his hand to stop him.

“Answer it here.” Kisaki said, ignoring the way Izana looks at him like he has two heads. “and put it on speaker.”

He had no reason to comply, but he wanted to see where Kisaki was going with whatever plan he had. With a wry smile, Izana put the phone down on the table and slid the answer button, putting it on a loudspeaker.

“Did you find anything Kakucho?”

Ever loyal, Kakucho clears his throat and starts to speak, his voice sounding strained over the phone, as if he’s struggling with something. “Yes boss.” He answers, a twinge of nervousness coating his tone. “There’s a dash cam on the mirror and a spy cam underneath the compartment facing the passenger’s seat…”

Mikey grumbles under his breath something about fucking Kakucho up if anything ends up spoilt or missing in his car but Kisaki holds his hand up to his lips and shushes him. Izana continues once he’s sure his brother is done complaining. “And did you confirm the anonymous tip that we got?”

He can hear Kakucho shift uncomfortably, the silence on the other side of the phone drawn out until he finally says. “Boss, it’s too … I don’t think we should use this against her.” He tries to reason. “I think we’re going too far-”

“Perfect.” Kisaki chimes in, now looking at Izana with a satisfied smile. Kakucho is about to ask why Kisaki was there but Izana cuts him off instead. “Bring it back. I’ll explain once you come to the house.”

“Okay boss.”

The phone line dies and Kisaki, fairly confident in his plan, looks at Izana once again. “I’m sure you know where I’m going, right?”

Izana may think Kisaki is a pathetic brat who just happened to be smart, but right now, it’s like the both of them are connected and in tune with their thoughts. The tanned male stretches his lips into a smile, one full of malice and at the same time, glee, his eyes light with mirth when he realises what Kisaki was thinking.

Finally a plan he could follow along with.

“Alright, I’m all ears.”

THE walk back to your dorm was quiet.

By the time you managed to catch a bus after spending the entire day looking for a job and getting back to campus, it was already late in the night. Save for only the street lamps that were beginning to dim, everywhere else was darker than usual.

You had read that there was going to be a lunar eclipse tonight between the hours of 10pm - 00am. The time boldly written on the bus’ digital clock before you got down was 10:45pm, so you already assumed it was the cause of the unnatural darkness tonight.

A long time ago before the world weighed you down, things like this would have made you excited. You loved watching the stars when you were young, trying to check on the papers your father bought to see if there was any space news available. You remember borrowing your immediate elder brother’s binoculars as a makeshift telescope, trying to piece out the stars in the sky or see if you would catch a glimpse of the comet that was said to pass through that week.

Unfortunately, you were young and foolish. Wanting to impress your father, you told him all about your book of constellations that you drew up, detailing the first star that appeared every evening, down to your crazy childish theories about aliens and space.

“Can you show me the book?” your father asked calmly. You should have known it was dangerous for your father to be this calm, but you were too blinded by excitement to think and you gave him the book, a bright smile on your face.

Your smile fell as his large hands ripped your book into shreds, before telling you: “Women don’t dream.”

Maybe that was the day you realised the love you craved from your father will never be given to you. You were so young and impressionable, all you wanted was for him to be proud of you, like he was with his sons. Now, you can’t even look at the stars, the memory leaves a bitter taste in your mouth and you try to shake it off as you continue on the path.

You wondered what grievous sin you’ve committed to be so down on your luck like this. Today had been one disappointment to another

You passed by Emma’s dorm building, a sigh escaping your lips. She told you that Draken wanted to take her out for dinner tonight, which shocked you because friends with benefits - according to what Emma herself told you- don’t go on dates or do lovey dovey stuff with each other, to avoid complicated feelings from budding.

Then again, their relationship is based on the fact that they both have feelings for each other, but Draken was not interested in a relationship.

It was already complicated before it began but at least she's taking your advice and talking to them again.

Your eyes darted up to her window, hoping her lights were on. Whenever she was alone, Emma hated sleeping in the dark. She said it reminded her of the times her mother would lock her and Izana in a dark room whenever she brought her customers in. Anytime she was in a darkened room, she told you she could still hear the sound of her mother moaning and a man grunting. Izana would try his best to distract her, playing games or even stealing an earphone and plugging it to his own so that she would listen to music instead of what was going on.

A frown graced your lips when you saw two bodies from the curtain, one tall figure you recognize as Draken and Emma’s smaller dainty figure perched on him, kissing. You quickly averted your eyes and walked faster, ignoring the unfamiliar pang in your chest. Maybe you’re jealous because you needed your friend’s comfort right now and she wasn’t available. You felt greedy for this, after spending a week with her, you should let her be free.

‘She has her own life to live. And I have mine’ you muttered to yourself as you trudged along the path, slowly dragging your feet. ‘I have to stop being so dependent on her.’

Eventually, your thoughts drift back to your reoccurring dream. Losing your job made you realise that if you didn’t do anything about it, your tiredness would eventually catch up to you and ruin everything else you’ve worked for. With an important test scheduled for tomorrow, you knew you could not afford to take another loss this week. You had to power through your sleep tonight, even if it traumatised you.

‘Maybe I should pretend that I like it. Pretend it’s okay and enjoy it so that I won’t have to wake up.’ You shook your head, cursing as you drew closer to your own dorm building. ‘Oh God, how far I’ve fallen. Look at me trying to enjoy a disgraceful act-’

You paused in your tracks at the sound of a leaf crushing. You quickly turned around, trying to ascertain who could be lurking there behind the bushes. Your palms started sweating, your nerves firing at the thought of being watched.

Silence.

You decided to continue walking, assuming that maybe you were hearing things and there wasn’t anything at all. Nighttime always had a way of making you nervous, especially with all the horrible stories you heard about innocent women being attacked around these times. Besides, looking around for whatever may be lurking was a dumb idea.

You should just get out of here.

Eventually, you make it to your dorm house in record time, a sigh of relief escaping your lips. ‘Maybe I’m being paranoid. But at least I’m safe now.’ You think to yourself as you push the door open, closing it behind you.

Weary from the day’s stress, your body starts to give up on you but you push through, trying your best to just make it to your room. You’re sure you would just collapse on your bed the second you got there and forget about anything else.

You finally make it to your room, about to rummage your bag for the keys when you notice the door was unlocked. ‘Oh? Ami must have come back rather early, since I barely see her until 2am.’

(From here is edited)

But as you reach for the handle, a feeling of dread washes over you, the same one you felt when you were outside. ‘I really need to let this go. There’s no harm waiting for me. It’s just my room.’ You mutter to yourself. Your overthinking has cost you a lot, from your job to your academics and right now, you really need it to stop. Pushing whatever feeling was keeping you away, you walked into the darkened room.

The first thing that greeted you was the stench of some kind of smoke -weed, the kind that Ami liked to use whenever she was in the room. You always hated the smell and you recall telling her to leave the windows open whenever she wanted to smoke. Coughing, you quickly covered your nose and mouth with one hand and reached to turn on the light with another. “Ami, how many times have I told you to open the window whenever you smoke? You know I don’t like the smell-”

Your blood turns to ice the moment light floods the room, your mouth dry as you stare at the man perched on your reading chair, a leg crossed over the other, the weed blunt hanging between his tanned hands. His lips are stretched into a sick grin, showing all his teeth, purple eyes shining with an odd mirth as he glances at you up and down.

Izana Kurokawa.

‘Run’

You don’t need to be told twice, quickly discarding your bag and running towards the direction of the door, only to hit someone hard, standing tall in your way. You look up fearfully to see mismatched eyes, a scar running down his face and flinch backwards in reflex. It’s as if he gazes at you with pity, but quickly switches to a blank stare as he stands between you and the door.

You know him from hanging around Emma a lot in the Tenjiku frat house, Kakucho. He’s always around Izana and only loyal to him for some reason that you don’t know. He doesn’t listen to anyone else, not even Mikey. You realise that he might have been the one that was following you when you were walking home.

Begging him to let you pass would be futile.

“Don’t worry, I’m just here to have a little chat with you. I’m not going to hurt you.” His tone is calm, but it doesn’t bring you any comfort. If Mikey could hurt you without any remorse, then there’s nothing stopping Izana from doing worse to you. “And as much as your backside is as interesting as your face, I prefer talking to someone who is looking at me.”

“I don’t want to talk to you.” The words fly out from your mouth before you even think of a more appropriate response but it doesn’t seem to give him any form of reaction other than a dry laugh.

He scoffed. “I don’t care. Turn around.”

Reluctantly you slowly turn to face him again, your body trembling as your fear filled eyes lock with his. Your heart drops to your stomach when you hear heavy footsteps walk out of the door, shutting it behind you, locks turning and trapping you with Izana.

‘Oh God oh God oh God.’

Your fear doesn’t go unnoticed by the white haired man, and he only chuckles at how stiff you were. Between the two brothers, you know Izana thrives in fear, using it to his advantage and it’s not unfounded. Notwithstanding his backing from Black dragons, Izana had taken Tenjiku from a down and out frat house, to a den of crime that holds power, trickling right into the administration of the university. Even his men know better than to ever get themselves in his bad books, because no one can ever escape him, no matter how much you try to run.

It was only a matter of time until he would make you pay for causing him problems, but you didn’t think he’d come by himself. You felt stupid for thinking he wouldn’t care about you or he’d forget how angry he was at you and leave you alone, especially with Emma still not on speaking terms with them.

He motions with his bunt for you to come closer to him and you comply, taking careful steps until you’re standing right in front of him. He eyes you again with a tepid frown. “When you meet a king, you don’t stand before him, you kneel.”

Kneel. You want to assume he’s not serious but you know better than to question him and go down on your knees, focusing your gaze firmly on your lap. It’s humiliating the way he has you at his mercy, without even moving an inch but it’s better to be compliant than to aggravate him even further by being disobedient.

You’ve learned the hard way what could happen if you resist.

From the corner of your eyes, you watch as Izana puts out his weed blunt on your reading table leaving a sorching mark on the table, before reaching behind his waistband. Your mouth grows dry the second you see the gun, your heart pounding against your chest as he presses the barrel to your head.

‘Oh god.’ You gasp as he presses it further against your head, until you’re sure it would leave an indent. ‘He’s going to kill me. He’s going to kill me…’

“That’s odd,” He murmurs. “Usually, other people would be begging for their lives when met with a gun to their head, but you’re quiet. If not for the way your hands are trembling, I’d think you weren’t scared.”

This time, with a gun pointed at your head, you’re careful with your words. “Y-you said you won’t hurt me.” Your voice shakes with fear but you continue. You know men like Izana, he reminds you of your older brother who ruled the house apart from your father, with fear and control. Sometimes, when you were able to stroke his ego, he’d go easy on you. Maybe that would work on Izana too. “That you want to talk.”

“And what if I changed my mind? Pulled the trigger? That’ll make my life easier, yeah? I won’t have to fight for my sister’s love and affection with you.” 

Your breath hitches in your throat when you hear the safety go off and watch as his finger curls around the trigger. ‘Oh God, he’s going to kill me. He’ll shoot me dead. I-i have to say something- I don’t want to die-’

“I-i trust you not to do it.” You reply, your lips trembling as you struggle not to think of your head scattered into pieces on the floor if he chooses to kill you. “You’re a man of your words.”

There’s another complete silence that engulfs the entire room, until you hear a click that makes you flinch for a split second, waiting for the bullet that would end it all. Instead, it’s him putting the safety back on, and chuckling at your reaction.

“You trust me? How foolish.” He laughs, tracing the gun from your head down to underneath your chin and forcing you to look up at him. You’ve only read about people with empty eyes in stories, but seeing it in person was so terrifying. “Is that why you ended up with Mikey in his car?”

All the blood rushes from your head to the tip of your toes. “H-how do you kn-”

“I have eyes and ears in this school, (name).” You’re sure it’s the first time you’ve heard him call you by your name and despite being in a life or death situation, you couldn’t control the shiver that ran through your spine. “You wanted him to touch you, right?”

“T-that is not what happened!” You suddenly cried out, trying to explain your own side of the story. Of all the people who know your dirty and shameful secret, Izana is the worst pick, just your luck. “It was a mistake! I tried to tell him I didn’t want it but I couldn’t-”

“Ah ah -” Izana cuts you off, tilting your chin higher with the gun. “Don’t lie to me. You must have planned the entire thing to make Mikey look bad”

“No! I wasn’t trying to do anything, I just wanted to talk-”

“Really? Cause Mikey told me an entirely different story-”

“No, no I- didn’t… -”

“You were dangling yourself like a piece of meat for him to fuck and he’s a man, you know. He has urges and it's hard to resist temptation.”

“That’s not true-” your lips start to tremble at his words, tears forming at the corner of your eyes. You didn’t want to be assaulted, you just wanted to talk to him about the Emma issue and you wanted to apologise. “That’s not true-”

“Oh but it is.” He said firmly, now leaning in closer to your face until there’s barely any inches between the two of you. “And now Mikey feels like a piece of shit because he couldn’t stop himself.”

“No-” your voice is small, trying to defend yourself but even you are beginning to doubt your own credibility with how he keeps twisting the narrative around until you begin to actually believe him.

‘No! Don’t let him make you think you’re in the wrong! You know what happened!’

“He even told you to leave but you refused to. You were baiting him to just do something to you so that you can tell everyone how bad Mikey is and make yourself get more sympathy points. Am I wrong?”

“No! I would never do that to Mikey!” You don’t realise your tempo had suddenly gotten high or that tears had started to drip down your face, but Izana did. He doesn’t point it out, staying quiet as you start to shout at him. “I would never bait him into hurting me! I just wanted to make up with him because I felt that I overreacted at the party I swear! And then he touched me in the car -”

“And you never reported him to the school authorities? Why? Did you want to blackmail him for money-”

“Because I love him!”

The words flew out of your mouth before you could even stop yourself from saying them.

Your heart drops as a mischievious glint appears in Izana’s eyes. His smile drops slightly, still maintaining the gun on your chin. “You love him?” He says slowly, testing out the words on his lips. “Love? Mikey?” He looks so deep in thought, like the concept sounds so foreign to him that he almost can’t believe it. His gaze falls back to you again, a quiet scoff emanating from his lips. “You really have no shame, do you?”

Unable to maintain eye contact with him, you break away from his gaze, biting down on your lips to prevent yourself from falling apart. When you don’t respond, Izana takes your silence as an opportunity to keep talking. “If you love him so much, then what’s wrong with what you both did in the car that day? It was what you wanted, wasn't it?”

“Not like that…”

“But you claim to love him.” Izana is calm and cool, while you’re stuttering on your words, making you look like you’re the one who is wrong. Like what you’re saying doesn’t make any sense to begin with and he’s the one saying something of reason. “And yet, you didn’t even notice he wasn’t himself that day. Or did you take advantage of his fragile state of mind?”

“I would NEVER-”

“You would, because you get to be the so-called victim and he gets to be the villain in your own story. Do you really know the implication of your actions?”

“That’s not right.” You don’t even realize how quiet you’ve gotten, your voice full of uncertainity. “I didn’t … it’s not…”

“Shut up.” He cuts you off again with a firm tone, tapping the gun on your chin gently to enunciate his point. “The reason why I haven’t put a bullet through your head as much as I want to is because I love Emma. I love Emma so much I’d kill for her and I’d resist the urge to kill for her. That’s how Sano’s love. That’s true love. That's something you'll never ever experience.”

You stay silent, trying to understand what exactly Izana was calling love. He leaned closer, making you feel even smaller. “If Emma finds out, she’ll think Mikey intentionally hurt you and she will hate him. But I guess that’s what you want, isn’t it?”

“Never. I don’t want her to hate him” your inner voice telling you it’s not your fault, is nothing more than a whisper, the feeling of guilt and shame overtaking you until you’re almost suffocating. “I just want them to be happy…”

“Then you know exactly what you’re meant to do, right?”

Of course you know what to do. Ever since you were child, it’s been drilled into your head. Whenever your brothers hit you a bit too hard or your father went overboard with his belt and you ended up in the hospital, your mother would take you aside to issue a warning that still rings in your head. That had terrible consequences if you refused to follow through with it.

You nod weakly. It really doesn’t matter what is right and wrong when it comes to the Sano’s, but what they want. Izana taps the gun on your chin again, shaking his head. “I need a verbal answer.”

“I won’t tell anybody what happened. Especially not Emma.”

Satisfied, he withdrew his gun from your chin and your face falls onto his lap, unable to support your head any longer. You feel a hand reaching down to pet your head, like you were a dog who had just been tamed by her new owner. The strength to push him off or stand up had left you, feeling drained as the weight of guilt settle down on your shoulders, heavily. You know you shouldn’t believe anything Izana says, but then again he does have a point. Maybe you should have been more receptive of Mikey’s touch or at least be polite about declining him instead of shoving him off and hurting his pride.

You feel so utterly powerless. Despite being wronged, you know there’s nothing you can really do to save yourself. You don’t think you can bear the traumatic experience of being an outlier again.

Mikey. You don’t want to hurt him. You don’t want anyone thinking he’s a bad person over a singular action.

'Maybe it’s not as bad as I think, I did enjoy it mid-way, so it should count as something. Right?'

You feel sick just trying to think about it.

“You know, if you’re this obedient, we can get along just fine.” He hums, breaking the silence as he pets your head gently. You hate yourself right now. How easy it is to do whatever it is that you’re told because disobedience is not an option. “I’m sure you wouldn’t want to know what I’ll do to you if you break your promise.”

“No” your voice is quiet. You feel tired, sick maybe, you don’t know. Maybe it’s the weed he smoked earlier affecting your judgement and reasoning. Or it’s the lack of sleep that has made it difficult for you to think straight or stand up. Either way, you don’t care. “I don’t.”

“Good girl.”

You know he’s mocking you, but you accept it, like you do with every circumstance thrown at you.

Bonus:

  IZANA looks down at your sleeping figure with a curious gaze.

For a moment, he almost pities you. Despite the faint glow of the room lighting, he can see the dark circles underneath your eyes and how stressed you look. For someone who is actively working to pay her fees while sustaining herself with no one caring for her, it must be hard being abandoned by society.

He can see why Emma picked you to be her friend, she always had a trait of picking up stray animals who had no one because she wanted something to protect. It’s no different with you, the way she’s so fiercely loyal to you and why she wanted you to be accepted by their family. No wonder she was hurt when you were vehemently rejected by them.

If he had a conscience, he’d feel bad for you. You love Mikey, of all people, someone who only saw you as a nuisance and to push the blame of his actions onto. All those times Mikey was cruel to you must have hurt the most because you truly cared about what he thinks about you.

He’s careful when he lifts your head from his lap, not wanting to wake you up. He puts your head on the chair and turns to leave, already overstaying his welcome. He’s done the thing he was supposed to, ensuring you stayed quiet about Mikey’s actions and there’s no need for him to be here any longer.

As he walked to the door, his mind goes back to you. In a way, you and him were similar. All alone, unwanted, with nobody in the world to care about you, cold, uncaring parents who didn’t think twice in terms of abandoning you both. The only difference between you and him is that he grew a backbone and you haven’t. You’re like a kicked dog who continues to stay on the ground to get kicked, in hopes the person kicking you stops eventually.

As long as you stay on the ground, people like him will keep kicking you.

He knocks loudly on the door and the locks turn. Kakucho opens it for him, peering inside with a worried gaze, his eyes settling on your body slumped over a chair.

“Did you hit -”

“I didn’t touch her.” Izana snaps at the taller male, stepping out of the room properly. “She’s fine, physically at least. Emotionally she’s a mess. But that’s Mikey’s problem to fix.”

“Huh?”

It wouldn’t hurt to tell Kakucho your little secret.  “Apparently (name)’s in love with my dear brother Mikey so she’s keeping quiet what he did to her.” a cruel smile stretches across his face. “How pathetic.”

Kakucho frowns at Izana’s statement, but as usual he doesn’t say anything in response. Instead, his eye darts back to your form again, taking a good look at you, his eyes softening. Ever the gentleman.

“She shouldn’t really stay like that Izana, she’ll get a stiff neck-”

“Kakucho.”

That was enough to end the conversation.

special thanks to: (please turn on your mentions in 'settings' before filling the form.): @officiallyjaehyuns @haikyuusboringassmanager @ilybbg @merrymerrykiss @cockonoi @Rindou24689 @short-cxke @kokoch4n3l @GenAwi @ryuguji-sana @nuyoo @reiners-milkbiddies @kiwixpi @gh0stgirl333 @brisssaaa009 @fushiqruo @kawaiikoalagarden @damidamimongalam @raven-nevra @ilovetwodmen @kodzubaby @straightfromheaven @manchie55 @pikibee @tomeyano @matchamilktea-05 @tenjikusstuff4 @m0onz1 @hapikiou @rainnyzz @Lovelyartistz @lik0 @maraya-007 @thisismarisaaa @reeyy0-2 @littlemisspropaganda @cherie026

[mildlyromanticperv]

What did you expect of me?

Karina x MReader. Fluff. Enemies to lovers.

-For christ sake, what a bitch! -Your anger boiling in your heart and your brain tells you, no, yells you to go to your managers office and demand a fair treatment, it's just ourageous that among all the workers in the office you have to stay late every single day of the week to cover the "last project of the quarter".

No matter what you do, how hard you work, how many late nights and how many cups of coffee you drink at a day, it just feels like a prison in here, the office that hired you as the main developer for the website on their new brand "Supernova."

Plus, who names a project "Supernova"? Sounds like with just a simple code here and there you'd make the market implode and then explode in money... If your manager Karina expects for that to happen she's either naively hopeful or a total delusional.

-You, come to my office. -Her cold words stabs your brain, after a whole week hearing her low pitch condescending dictatorial voice you can't bear to listen to it one more time, but you need this job like, DESPERATELY need this job, so there's no talk back to the boss.

-Yes boss?

-We're behind on the project, have you been slacking off again? -Her cold judgemental gaze falls upon your black sacked eyes showing off the immense exhaustion you have tu put up with during the project.

-Look boss, I'm doing my best, I haven't slept well these past few days but I assure you I will have everything ready by next month even if the useless of my coworkers don't do shit. -Your tongye got the best of you and runs wild. -I just need to have a good night sleep, can you let me out early today?

-No, we are all hands on deck and you know that. -She sighs and rubs her forehead in a clear show of stress and disappointment. -Just go back to work and don't screw anything up.

Any person with enough patience would put up with that shit, but not you, not now at least. The condescending tone and the past sleep deprived week has been just too much for you, clearly you're not thinking straight anymore, or perhaps you're thinking clearer...?

-Fuck this.

-Excuse me? -She responds with equal or perhaps even higher anger.

-Fuck this Karina, I'm not doing any more shit today and I'm tired to put up with your fucking demands. Fire me if you want I'm going home to sleep. -You really shuld've thought that better, but what is done is done, you start to pick up your stuff and bracing yourself for the shouting match.

-You cross that door and you're suspended, one week half pay. -Surprisingly enough instead of picking up a fight and shouting her vocal cords off as she usually does, she just stares straight into your eyes with a gaze so cold it could freeze hell itself. -You're not the only developer in our payroll, if I wanted I could fire your sorry ass right now and make it so you never work as a developer never again in your life, so consider this a favour.

Breathe.

Don't let that tone of hers get into your core.

Just, breathe.

-Fuck you. -It's the only thing you get to say before actually leaving.

-One week suspension no pay, and don't you dare call me or text me asking to forgive you. Jackass.

With the anger oozing through your pores you just slam the door and head out. You start your car and praying you don't crash you go from 0 to 100 in just a couple of seconds screeching the tires of your car.

-Please god, take care of him... -She sighs under her breath.

But wait... What?

Take care of him?

During that next week there was absolutely no news from you on the office, things started to be more... tense. You've received a ton of messages from your coworkers basically begging him to come back, but the answer is defenitive: No.

However things don't ever go your way.

*Bzz* *Bzz* *Bzz*

-Hey, we need to talk, come to the office. -Again, that swee... No. Annyoing voice again.

-I'm suspended. -Your answer comes as soon as the thought hits your brain.

A sigh from the other line and a faint whisper.

-This man is going to be the death of me some day. -But then the usual tone returns. -Look, I made a rash decision and we need your intel, you're the one that knows the way around our software.

-I thought you had several developers in your payroll, I bet they can help. -You say sipping through the wine you bought for that dinner for one you've been pushing away so much due to the job.

-I'm asking nicely, and around here you know that's as rare as an unicorn. Just come here tomorrow and finish the project, we're ahead.

-Ahead? What do you mean ahead? You said we we're behind last week! -Your voice comes harsher and harsher, even though your chest is telling you not to.

Not to her.

-I lied to try and make things faster, okay? Just come and we can talk like professionals. -She couldn't come to acknowledge the fact that she just wanted to see you. She couldn't admit that she misses your cologne, your three day beard and your stoic gaze when you're so deep in thought. -I'll send you the advances that have been made.

Right away she hangs up the phone, relieved she didn't break down into yelling or insults. Right away an email arrives on your computer with such incredibly... small advances looks like you carried the entire project all by yourself.

-Why am I not surprised? -You sigh under your breath as you pause the movie you were watching and read what has been done, immediately you start chaning... well, almost everything.

Next day...

You should at least turn off the car, for real, have you seen how expensive the gas is around these days?

"Just go, I avoid her any longer... I- I don't want to..." -It's the only thought that crosses your mind, the thought of seeing her piercing eyes again, the feeling of her gaze piercing and burning through your very soul, the loud beating of your heart as you look at her lips...

Her lips...

If only she wasn't your boss, right?

-So, I checked the non existent advances the useless guys did, and...

-How you've been? Have you slept well? -For some reason her tone wasn't condescending anymore, the worry present on her voice...

Could it be?

-Yes, finally in months I've been sleeping great... -Her eyes, oh. my. god... Her eyes... -Anyways, I have everything finished now, you can present it to corporate. -You say trying to avoid her eyes as you speak sarcastically and look at your watch.

-Big date coming or something? -She asks, doing an awesome job yo hide the jealousy.

-Just wondering how long this will take. -She sighs again, feeling the anger and stress of your cold demeanor.

-Your week of suspension ends today and the weekind is off by legal, so you can go now and I'll see you on monday.

-Sure.

After that you just go back to your usual routine, the weekend goes great and the next week of work comes, with so much less stress that even the busiest day feels like a walk through the park. The time off work led you to watch so much shows, and so much free time, time spent in imagining your life outside of work with that person that would make your days so much happier.

Thinking of love.

What a great future you could have, perhaps you could get married and have kids, after all that's your dream.

In a year you'd ascendo in your job, start earning more, you'd start dating to finally get the chance to let you feel that love you so desperately look for, In a year your boss wouldn't be your boss and perhaps you could date her, in a year you'd buy your first...

Your boss? Date... your boss?

Why would you think that? She's a bitch.

"But she's a gorgeous bitch." You thought, perhaps... only perhaps... You wanted that, you liked your boss...

*Bzz* *Bzz* *Bzz*

Your phone rings with a text from your boss.

-Corporate loved the project, we were given monday to celebrate, so I'll be expecting you monday 7:00 A.M. sharp for the party.

-Got it boss. And hey, sorry for snapping out last week. -Perhaps this could be a beginning, you know you should keep things professional, you keep telling yourself to stop but flesh is weak.

-Yeah, just don't be late. -Her response cold as always after 5 minutes of writing and deleting, she's also in the midst of an inner debate, whether let herself feel what she wants to feel for you or just don't say anything.

But why? Why shouldn't you try? Because she's your boss? There's plenty of people that date with their boss and make it work, you shouldn't keep ahold of the prospect of your happiness just because people might judge, that's the whole point, living for yourself and be happy yourself. Isn't it?

That very Monday at 7:00 A.M. you show yourself at work wearing a new white T-shirt and some loose jeans, your usual wrist watch and a new cologne you bought just for your boss, nothing else is going to stop you.

-Hey, boss. -You came to talk to her made a nrevous wreck not really knowing what to do to get her attention.

-Oh, here he is, the brain behind it all. -She wrapped her arm around your shoulders and pulled you closer to present you to some corporate officers like if you were a prize, like you never shouted before... Like you two were friends... Being so close to her made your every sense enter overdrive and your nostrils welcomed her particular scent, that magnificent smell of lavender and strawberries sent your head over the moon.

The rest of the party went completely normal, talking here, showing off there... Taking glances at your boss every once in a while as well.

Wait, did she looked at you as well?

Was she blushing?

-Hey boss can I talk to you for a sec? -You got closer and whispered into her ear, not long after she pointed you to the balcony where you usually go to have your lunch.

-Make it quick.

-Look boss, there's no easy way for me to say this, but I think I should quit... I... I have feelings for you.

-Is that so? -Her cold demeanor makes you back off for a second, unable to tell the truth in her eyes you stutter.

-I know, I know that I was rude last week and I'm being just way too out of line. -Her eyes shine with a glint never seen before, in her mind the thoughts are divided whether she should speak from her heart, as Karina. Or speak from her brain as Ms. Jimin, regional Manager of your branch.

-You know you're my worker, and this is incredibly inappropriate.

-Don't you feel the same for me? I saw you looking for my eyes before.

-Don't be ridiculous, I'm your boss. -Despite the way she feels work ethics comes first, how can a manager could let a worker speak to her that way?

-I don't care. -It's the last thing you said before leaning forward and placing your hand against her cheek, caressing her soft skin and pressing your lips over hers.

For a second all that exists is you and her, together in a tight embrace holding her waist desperately thinking that if you'd ever let go of her she'd just vanish in the thin air. She responds to your advances letting your body invade her personal space, for mere seconds that feel like an eternity all that she can feel is your hands gripping her blouse until she lets go of any ties and wrap her arms around your neck, tipping into her toe-tips to match as much as she can your height.

-We... We can't... I'm your boss... -Her voice comes out cracking, breathing unsteady due to the raw passion she just felt a while ago. -It's inappropriate.

-I don't care, I'll quit if needed, I just care that I want you.

-I want you too. -She rests her head on your shoulder nuzzling her face in the crook of your neck.

You then caress her soft hair, taking a deep breath of her unique scent that send jolts of electricity along your brain.

-So what now, boss? -This time the words come out strong, lovingly, softly.

-Now we talk to HR, couples need to fill paperwork. -She pulls back and looks into your eyes again. -You always make me do more and more paperwork... -She then whispers in your ear. -Sweetie.

[smoft-demons]

hey hey! I really like your writing :) I have a request for the brothers:

gn!mc who has trouble sleeping alone bc of nightmares. they can very rarely sleep but are great at hiding it, because they don’t want to bother anybody. they never notice because mc always sleeps fine during sleepovers??? until eventually the lack of sleep gets to them too much and it becomes too noticeable. how do they respond when mc (reluctantly) reveals the truth?

thank you and have a lovely day ❤️

Good prompt! I like this one :)

(This one took a good few hours! Hope you like it!)

MC has nightmares when they sleep alone

_______

Lucifer:

‘…something’s amiss with our human.’ Lucifer thinks.

He’s been observing them lately. Since he cracked down on his brothers sneaking into their room at night—in order to give the poor human a break, so they may rest well and have time to study for the upcoming wave of tests—they’ve been… sluggish. More forgetful. Their assignments are coming back notably worse. He was irritated at first, but when he brought them into his office to confront them about it, he couldn’t ignore how… off they seemed.

Lucifer sets his irritation with their slipping standards aside, in favour of concern. He is above petty reactions, he decides. No, he is reasonable enough to see that there must be a cause for this.

“MC. I did not call you here to berate you. I am not angry with you. Something is obviously wrong. Please, I cannot help you until you tell me what it is.”

You’re not sure if it’s the jarringly unmasked concern in his eyes, or the rising feeling of guilt for stressing him out more than usual that finally cracks your resolve.

Whatever it is, you confide in him. You tell him that you’ve not been sleeping well. He pries the reason out of you, by pointing out his observations about the timing.

Begrudgingly, you admit to having nightmares when you try to sleep alone.

Outwardly, he remains businesslike and practical as always. In his mind, he’s facepalming. In retrospect, the signs are all there! How did he not notice??

He feels just a bit sorry, too. In his attempt to help you, he directly made everything worse. What a great job he’s done…

Then he snaps out of it and steels himself. There’s no use dwelling on that! He can fix this. Very, very easily!

“I see. Then, sleep in my room tonight. I will ensure no nightmares bother you. Once you’ve recovered enough to learn again, I will help you bring your grades back up to your usual standard. Is this satisfactory?”

He refuses to hear any guilt from you about imposing, or taking up his time, or being a burden.

“I am choosing to carry you, MC. There’s no burden.”

From that point on, you’re always welcome in his bed. On the rare occasion that he isn’t home and none of his brothers can sleep over with you, he lends you his coat to sleep under. The familiar scent of him that clings to it is better than nothing.

_______

Mammon:

…Okay, at this point, he HAS to pry. Mammon is one of the first to notice that you’ve not exactly been well lately. You’re being unusually scatterbrained, clumsy, and spacey. You don’t have any energy. It’s obvious to him that there’s a sleep issue! He’s more observant than he looks, ya know!

Now that he thinks of it, these traits are not THAT out of character for you. They’re not usually this bad though!

…shit, does that mean you’re usually sleep deprived? That’s not good. Well! You’re HIS human, and he loves you lots and takes your well being very seriously, as much as he hates to say it out loud. So, he commits himself to figuring this out!

Evening comes. Mammon follows you into the hall leading towards your room. You bash your hip against a wall corner and almost fall to the floor as you dizzily stumble, trying to catch yourself. Mammon grabs you to steady you. Yeah, at this point he has to pry.

“Be careful, human! Seriously, you’d break all your lil toothpick bones without the great Mammon around to protect ya! What’s up with that, huh?”

You trust him of course, but… you’re embarrassed. You don’t want to tell him.

He clicks his tongue impatiently. You don’t say anything. He grabs you by the shoulders and steers you into his room. He pushes you down to sit on his bed.

“C’mon, MC. Talk to me. Your first man is here to help!”

“…”

“…please?”

Now, that… almost does it. You feel bad for being stubborn. You know he’s worried, and chaotic as he can be, he’s proven himself as a very good guardian demon time and time again. You take a deep breath, gathering your resolve.

You take just a bit too long. Mammon groans.

“I’m very annoying, yknow. I’ll get it outta ya somehow!”

Mammon pokes your cheeks, gently shakes you, tugs lightly at your hair, as he demands that you talk to him.

“Tell me, tell me tell me tell me tell me, c’mooooon humaaan, tell me!”

‘Oh, fucking fine!’ You think. You confide in him.

He’s mildly tempted to be like, ‘was that really so hard,’ but he won’t. He’s far more concerned than annoyed with you. He feels bad about all the super late nights out he’s been having lately. He wants to always be there for you! Him having missed something like this has him mentally kicking his own ass.

Mammon puts all that aside for now, though. He roots around in a drawer to get two pairs of his old, worn and comfy sweatpants, plus an old tshirt, faded and worn soft from use. He throws the shirt and one of the sweatpants at you

“Go brush your teeth and change, then come right back. We’re having an early night.”

When you return, he locks his door, then puts you back in his bed. He’s changed into the other pair of sweatpants. Mammon wraps himself around you as much as he can, as if to bodily shield you from the nightmares, then pulls his blanket over both of you.

“Sleep, human. No nightmares’ll DARE mess with you now. Not while I’m here. I’ll protect ya.”

Having him so close to you feels like home. Nothing else has ever felt so safe. You sleep deeply, for hours longer than you have in a while.

(Mammon is never letting you sleep alone again)

_______

Levi:

As much as Levi doesn’t want to bother you, he’s getting worried. You’re performing WAY worse at your video games than usual! You’re missing so many inputs! He knows your usual skill level, this game should be a relaxing walk in the park for you! He’s too worried to even make fun of you!

“Ok, that’s it! I can’t take it anymore! What happened to you, normie?? Are you sick?? Do you… not want to play with me? What’s happening??”

He’s worked himself into a panic. You know he’s sensitive enough right now to take it personally if you don’t confide in him. So fine! You’ll talk!

You’ll talk… auuugh, you can’t get the words out! You’re too self conscious about it. Fuck it. You take your DDD out of your pocket and send him a text.

>not been sleeping well. Nightmares. So tired, can’t pretend anymore! >:( Nothing personal, promise!

Levi reads the text. He chews the inside of his cheek for a long moment, thinking. Then he snaps to attention, looking at you with intense determination.

“We can’t have that! I need my player two in optimal condition! There’s no other way for us to win at any games!”

Levi resorts to his old faithful: relaxing slice of life anime! He makes a big pile of pillows and blankets on the floor, arranging them into an MC-and-Levi sized nest. It’s late enough into the evening that it’s reasonable enough to try to put you to sleep.

If just the anime and the blankets and the being in his room isn’t enough to knock you out, he’ll shyly inch over to you to hold your hand. Blushing and looking away from you because he’s shy, but he’ll do it.

If you ask him—or just look sad and cute enough—he’ll even curl up behind you in the blanket-nest and hold you. Levi won’t have ANYTHING hurting his Henry, not if he can do anything about it!

He doesn’t mind holding you all night like this. The fact that you’re asleep helps, he’s not shy when you’re not perceiving him. The anime he’s still watching is helping too. It’s a good distraction.

_______

Satan:

As soon as he started to get the feeling something was wrong with you, he began watching you intently. He’s sharp, so he would have caught this very early on.

He can’t help but have a little fun with this investigation at first, thinking of it as detective work.

Soon though, he gets concerned. You’re irritable, you’re not retaining information or remembering small things as well, you’re clumsier and less generally aware… all dangerous things to be in this realm.

He doesn’t need you to tell him what’s wrong. He puts it together himself. He knows you sleep just fine with him, he knows you seem well rested after sleepovers with any of his brothers too. Clearly it’s not general insomnia. He also knows that the usual frequent sleepovers haven’t been happening for a while now.

When he confronts you, he doesn’t start with asking questions. He lays out all the evidence he’s collected and states his guesses as to the cause.

He tells you he has concluded it’s most likely to be any of these causes: loneliness, separation anxiety, touch deprivation, nightmares, stress-induced insomnia. He asks you to tell him which it is, if it’s more than one, if it’s something else?

He’s so clinical about it, you pretty much forget to be self conscious. All you have to do is confirm that it’s nightmares and they only happen when you sleep alone.

“Thank you for trusting me,” he says, regardless of how little you’ve actually told him. “You’re more than welcome to sleep over with me any time. You don’t even have to ask. Just tell me that you’re sleeping over.”

That evening, he leads you into his room. He lies on his back, book in hand, and beckons you to lie on top of him.

He guides your head to rest in the crook of his neck. He balances his book against your shoulders, holding it with one hand. The other wraps around your waist, his thumb rubbing your side soothingly, and he begins to read aloud to you.

His voice and his warmth soothe you to sleep. Not a single nightmare dares touch you.

Asmo:

The first thing Asmo notices is the darkened circles under your eyes.

“Oh, my darling! Your skin!” He gasps, genuinely horrified. “Come, we can do better than that. Let your Asmo take care of you~”

As he often does, Asmo brings you to his room for a spa day. Evening. Night. It’s late.

He smooths moisturizer into your skin, using all the appropriate human-safe products for revitalizing you when you’re tired. He gets a helpful mask on you, then one for him too. As you wait for it to dry, he asks you what’s up.

“Can’t sleep, lovely? You know, if you’re restless I can always tire you out~”

You roll your eyes and elbow him lightly. You expected nothing less from Asmo. Knowing him as well as you do, it’s more endearing than bothersome. You know he’s showing you that he cares.

“Offer’s always open, darling!” He giggles. “But, is there anything else I could do for you? Need to get something off your chest? Or just some good company, hmm?”

Asmo’s really sweet. It’s easy to open up to him—or, as easy as opening up gets. He massages your hand in silence as you gather your resolve to confide in him.

He listens sympathetically. Nodding and humming encouragingly at all the right points as you speak. Squeezing your hand when you need support. Just… being the emotionally intelligent sweetheart that Asmo always is with you.

“You’re welcome to sleep here, love. Nothing you don’t want will happen, of course. Now, let me wash that mask off you, then we can snuggle if you like.”

He washes off the mask, touching you very tenderly as he does. He takes his time gently washing the product off your face, stroking your cheek with his thumb affectionately. He gives you a little forehead kiss when your face is clean as his thanks for trusting him.

He lets you lead on how much contact you want. He really just wants to help. He’s happiest if you choose to cuddle with him, but he’s totally chill with just holding your hand, or even just lying next to you. He’s awesome like that.

No matter what you choose, the familiar perfume of Asmo’s room and the reassuring rhythm of his breathing lulls you to sleep. It feels safe.

You sleep really well. Asmo really is the best.

Beel:

Beel understands nightmares. He gets them too. He spots the signs easily, familiar as they are to him.

All he has to do is spot the haunted look in your eyes when he sees you before breakfast. Very distracted he usually is at that time, yes, but he loves you. He pays attention to you. He notices it pretty quick.

He can’t help but wonder why you haven’t approached him about it. Hasn’t he demonstrated to you that nightmares in particular are a thing he’s safe for you to confide in about? He’s not going to take it personally, but he IS going to worry.

He keeps an ear trained on your room whenever he goes into the kitchen at night. Carefully listening for any signs of distress.

After a few nights of this, he gives into his impulse and goes to check on you after his midnight snack. He brings you something he knows you like.

He’s not surprised to find you awake.

“Hey.” He says through a mouthful of his own food. “Want a snack?” He comes in to put it in your hands as soon as you acknowledge him.

The two of you eat together, sitting quietly on your bed side by side. Beel’s careful not to drop any crumbs.

You remain quiet even after all traces of snacks are eliminated.

“Nightmares?” Beel asks gently, looking at you with those irresistible soft worried puppy eyes he does. You can’t lie to him. You’re not a monster!

You nod. He hums sympathetically, looking genuinely saddened on your behalf. He gets it.

“Want a hug?” He offers

You press yourself into his side. He wraps one very big arm around you, and you melt into him like warm mozzarella. His solid presence is reassuring. You feel so safe with him. You’re already starting to drift as he rubs your shoulder with one large thumb.

“Would it help if I stay?” Beel murmurs to you.

You nod again.

So Beel picks you up, settling himself in your bed with you and arranging you comfortably in his arms.

He starts softly stroking your hair. Trying to help you relax more.

“Thanks for letting me help you.” Beel says earnestly. It’s obvious that he really means it. He’s grateful you’re trusting him with this. He’s very happy that you’re accepting his comfort, because he wants nothing more than to help you and protect you.

He’s good at that. Being comforting. Helpful and protective—that’s Beel.

You drift off peacefully, with nothing on your mind except the sleep-blurred sentiment of feeling grateful for him, too.

Belphie:

Without question, Belphie is the first one to notice that you’re having nightmares. Sleep is his main thing!

You only get to have one bad night before he steps in. He drags you up to the attic to nap with you right after school. No nightmares happen, of course, because you’re not sleeping alone. Belphie congratulates himself on a job well done!

…wait. Again?? He finds himself aware that you’re having another nightmare that night, hours later when you’re trying to sleep by yourself. Fuck sake.

He goes to your room. You snap awake at the disturbance. Without a word, he pours himself into your bed, draping across you like a clingy cat and going right back to sleep.

Bit rude. But this is helpful. You go back to sleep too, and have no nightmares. Good job, Belphie.

Then the next night, it happens again!! Mildly vexed at the persistent issue, he does the same thing as last night.

The next evening, he doesn’t let you go to bed alone to begin with. He goes with you, staying just aware enough that he can snipe your nightmares before they get a chance to terrorize you—but… none happen? Huh. Wild. Okay.

The next night, he finally asks you what the deal is. You hesitate to tell him. Belphie has no qualms about annoying the information out of you, if his initial blunt concern isn’t enough to get you to talk. If you don’t crack, he’ll try tickling you until you talk to him. If you STILL don’t crack, he’ll sic Beel and his concerned puppy eyes on you. No one can resist Beel’s concerned puppy eyes. Especially not when it’s BOTH twins looking at you like that!

Resistance is futile. You reluctantly tell him that you have nightmares only when you sleep alone.

He mentally slaps himself. Obviously!

He was prepared to use any of his avatar of sloth abilities necessary to cure you of your nightmares—and he still is—but he’s happy (and secretly endeared) to learn that the cure is nothing more than his presence. Less work for him! Less work, AND a good excuse to steal you away for naps all the time! Two of his favourite things!

Belphie is never letting you sleep alone again. No, you’ll either be together in your room, together in his and Beel’s room, or together in the attic.

He’ll make an exception for sleepovers with his other brothers too if you miss them. You’re so lucky he loves you.

[ravings-of-a-mad-scientist]

Workaholics Anonymous 

Science Major: Man, I sure wish I had time to enjoy college but I have so much studying and homework to do. At least I'll get an easy high paying job after, right?

Physicist: I think I have a pretty good work life balance (does not, actually) and I think my grad students should have the same work life balance (which is not having that)

Astronomer: I work *about 40 hour weeks, but sometimes there are hours are in the middle of the night 'cause, y'know, stars. But who needs a consistent sleep schedule, really? Not me. I got Redbull.

Geologist: Sometimes I get to spend 15 hours a day wandering through the desert in severe weather conditions looking for cool rocks! also I have to like survey the land or whatever so I can get money

Chemist: Oh, you know, my PI only lets me see my family at night for dinner, then I have to come back and sleep in the lab, but overall I’d say I’m not too stressed.

Physician: Well, I had to work really hard, so why shouldn't everyone else have to work even harder? I'm sure the patients could only benefit from everyone being sleep deprived.

Biologist: I work so much I don’t even remember the last time I wasn’t working.

Science Major: huh?

Biologist: I MUST OBSERVE THE CRAB AT ALL TIMES. I OBSERVE THE CRAB EVEN AS WE SPEAK. IF I DO NOT PUBLISH 60 PAPERS ON CRAB BEHAVIOR BY NEXT YEAR MY COLLEAGUES WILL SENSE MY WEAKNESS AND DEVOUR ME ALIVE, LIKE A PACK OF STARVING CRABS

Computer Scientist: Um… I work from home for at most 8 hours a day then play video games

Biologist: *licks lips*

Computer Scientist (Game Dev): I would murder you if I wasn't so... oh there I go- *passes out from exhaustion (hasn't slept or touched grass in five years)*

[leighsartworks216]

Calling Out

Zayne x gn!Reader

I do really love this one. I love when Zayne is staunchly trying to take care of us even when we're a bit stubborn about it

Warnings: fluff, a little silly, sleep deprivation, exhaustion, stress

Word Count: 714

Main Masterlist

First Love and Deepspace Masterlist

Second Love and Deepspace Masterlist

AO3

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"How long have you been awake?"

"You don't want the answer to that question."

"I assume I wouldn't be jumping for joy if I heard it."

You sigh and rub at your tired eyes. All day, you've been hunched over your desk, clawing your hair out in frustration with your school work. On top of that, someone at work just quit, meaning you're one of the lucky few that gets to pick up the slack and take on more shifts until the company can bother to hire someone halfway decent. You're just grateful you have enough time in between the two to meet with Zayne for lunch.

"I was up all night," you admit. "One of my teachers thought it would be a great idea to give us an assignment that should take a week and have it due that same day."

"You didn't go to bed immediately after?"

"No."

"Is there a reason?"

"Couldn't sleep."

The waiter brings over a cup of coffee and a cup of green tea. You mutter a thanks and grab some sugar packets from the caddy on the table. You rip a few of them open at once with your teeth, lazily stir it in, and go to take a sip. Zayne's hand covers the top, and your mouth hits his fingers before he drags it down.

"You just put salt in your coffee." 

... No fucking way. You pick up the "sugar" packets to read the writing on the side. Sure enough, it's salt. You groan and slouch in your chair, head back and eyes closed. A touch melodramatic, perhaps, but Zayne thinks nothing of it as he places the cup of green tea in front of you.

"Drink this."

You look at it with a frown. "There's not enough caffeine in that."

He nods. "Precisely. You need to rest."

You sigh. "I can't, Zayne, I have work after this."

"Call out."

"I can't-"

"Doctor's orders. I'll give you a note."

"Zayne, I can't call in sick now! We're already understaffed and there's nobody who can cover for my shift on such short notice!"

He pushes the cup toward you more insistently. "Drink. You're going to work yourself into the ground if you keep on like this."

You snort humorlessly. "Hey, kettle."

He shoots you a disapproving look. "If you're not going to worry about your health, then allow me to. There is no situation that you can think up where your well-being comes after work."

You stare down into the green tea. You know he's right - of course he is. But there's a guilt that gnaws on your conscious every time you think of taking a break. For better or worse, that guilt has been the driving force behind your work. How long have you been detached from the "love of the game", from getting your degree to get the job you've always wanted? It no longer feels like a stepping stone to your future. It's a boulder in the way that you need to push up a mountain, inch by agonizing inch. It's only a matter of time before it comes rolling back on top of you; if you keep working through it, maybe you can avoid that happening.

And yet here you are. Your grasp on the boulder is slipping.

You take a small sip. It's herbal and warm. It doesn't have the kick the coffee does. You hope you can stay awake through lunch.

The stern look on his face relaxes slightly. He doesn't have to worry about you being rushed to the hospital in an ambulance because you passed out on the job. "How many sick days do you have saved up?"

You rub your eyes as you think. "I don't know. Enough for an emergency."

He flags down a passing waiter and hands them the ruined coffee. They take it away with a confused look. "Would you like me to make the call for you?" he asks, genuinely.

"Won't they be confused why my doctor is personally calling them from my phone? Would they even believe that?"

"Let me worry about that." He holds out his hand expectantly. You sigh. There’s no way you’re getting out of Zayne’s care now. Resigned, you pull it out of your pocket and pass it over.

---

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[amomentsescape]

hello! may i please request a hurt to comfort oneshot of Victor meeting the reader for the first time? he's just out on the town post-job, getting a milkshake or smth and sees reader in a really nice, pretty outfit crying quietly alone on a bench. for whatever reason, he goes up to them and asks why they're crying and they explain that it's their first birthday party ever and all their friends cancelled/ghosted on them.

i'm in a similar situation where i'm about to have my first birthday party ever and i'm really nervous that something is gonna happen. every other time i've tried, something comes up and people either cancel on me or just ghost me complately :,)

Birthday Wishes

Victor Zsasz x Reader

Summary: Victor finds Reader alone on their birthday.

Warnings: Reader being called "pretty," mentions of bad friends

Word Count: 1,018

A/N: Happy, happy birthday <3 I wish you the best day and hope that things were different this time. P.S. I wrote this in a sleep deprived stupor, so I hope this all came out to your liking still :)

Victor literally never catches a break. And honestly, he liked it that way.

He's spent so much of his life "working" that he doesn't know what to do with himself when he's not assigned a hit. And this is clearly why he found himself walking the busy streets of Gotham with a half melted vanilla shake in his hand.

Isn't this what the normal people do when they're off work? Not that Victor has ever been normal, but he is currently trying to find any way to keep his mind off of the fact that he isn't working.

Honestly, not having someone to kill was more stressful than the opposite. If he's not killing, then what's his purpose?

He looked down at the sad shake in his hand and let out a sigh, feeling conflicted on what to do.

His mind raced with thoughts on tomorrow when he would finally be back to his calling, stalking along the roofs of the tallest buildings with the prettiest views.

He tossed his shake into a nearby trashcan and continued to walk, ignoring the odd glances from those he passed along the street.

Victor kept up his pace and barely noticed how the crowd was beginning to thin out.

The quieter environment was welcomed, but this moment of peace was quickly shaken to the sound of pitiful cries coming from around the corner.

He would have normally relished in this sound, but something about the sobs and sniffles triggered an unfamiliar feeling in Victor's chest: worry.

He poked his head around the corner and saw you curled up on a bench, your face shoved in your hands.

He was quick to notice your elaborate outfit, immediately wondering if this was some type of date gone wrong. But he was quick to shake that thought away. You were much too pretty to have been stood up. At least, that's what he thought. Hell knows he wouldn't have stood someone like you up, hitman or not.

He hesitated for a moment, debating whether talking to you would be a good idea. He wasn't exactly a warm and welcoming sort of person to most, and the last thing he wanted to do was worsen the state you were already in. But at the same time, who cared? He was likely never going to see you again anyways unless your gorgeous self showed up on tomorrow's hit list.

He approached you, his heavy footsteps enough to quiet your crying, your head carefully rising to see who was near.

And the moment his eyes saw yours, he knew he had been right; you were very pretty, and he could almost immediately feel his usual confidence waver ever so slightly at the confirmation.

"What seems to be the matter?" he asked softly, not wanting to startle you.

And to his surprise, you casually rolled your eyes, not even slightly uncomfortable by his looks or presence.

"It's stupid," your voice broke.

You grimaced at how hoarse you sounded, looking away from his gaze quickly.

"I wouldn't consider this stupid," he quickly responded.

He nodded his head to the empty space beside you. You scooted over a bit and allowed him to sit despite still being a stranger to you.

Victor just sat there and watched you for a bit. He was silently hoping you would eventually open up to what was going on. But of course, he wasn't one to pry. In fact, he wasn't one to even engage in a situation like this to begin with.

In a city like Gotham, you were obviously not the first person he came across crying by themselves. But you were certainly the first person to catch his attention.

Finally, with a shaky breath, you spoke up.

"My friends..." you scoffed at yourself. "I can't even call them that anymore. What kind of friends aren't there for your own birthday?" you sniffled.

The realization dawned on him as he took in your words. Well this was even more upsetting of a situation than he had originally planned.

"They canceled?" he asked.

You let out a dry laugh. "Some did. Others weren't even kind enough to send me a text saying they couldn't make it."

You shook your head as you stared into your lap.

"You know, I spent every year of my life not celebrating my birthday because I was scared of this exact thing happening. And of course, the one time I felt confident enough to do it, my nightmare became real. Is there something wrong with me?"

The moment the words left your mouth, your eyes widened, shifting up immediately to meet his gaze.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn’t be spewing my trauma on a stranger."

You could already feel your eyes burning with tears again, the sensation making you angry. It was one thing to be pathetically crying on a random bench out in the open, but it was an entirely different thing to be doing this in front of some handsome man.

"Victor," his voice broke you from your thoughts.

You looked back up at him.

"What?"

You were surprised to see him smile softly at you.

"My name is Victor. So now we're not strangers, hmm?"

His smile was contagious as you found your body relaxing at his friendliness.

"(Y/N)," you finally responded after a moment.

"Well, happy birthday, (Y/N)."

Victor began to stand at this, a feeling of disappointment weighing in your chest.

You assumed he was leaving until he paused and looked down at you, his hand reaching out.

"Shall we?"

You tilted your head in confusion. "What-"

"It's your birthday. About time you finally got to celebrate it, hmm?"

A smile broke out on your face as you took his hand, following him away from that lonely bench.

This may not have been how you planned the day going originally, but there was no way you were going to argue with it. If you would have known some handsome man was going to show up and sweep you off your feet, you would have happily cut your "friends" off a lot sooner.

[cyb-by-lang]

Cascade

Someone a while ago asked me about what Kei's school life in Shell Game would've been like if she was a kid in 1-A as opposed to 1-C, so here's some noodlin'.

(Kei replaces Mineta's slot because I don't feel like dealing with him.)

The facet of being a UA student that bothered Kei the most (immediately) was the scrutiny. The celebrity. The total inability to fold herself and her flat expression and sleep deprivation back into the comforting anonymity of a world without widespread cell phone usage. Every other rando in Japan—arguably the world—knew the school’s reputation and its uniform. The more invested enthusiasts knew the names and faces of all the hero kids in each year and ranked them based on their apparent promise. Kei’s entire being retreated from the spotlight as though possessed by a cockroach. 

The runner-up of annoyances was being trapped in high school again. She’d done her time one life ago and resented that the experience just pigeonholed her into bilingual missions now. But explaining that to Sensei wasn’t on the table, so away she went. 

In the end, though, there was a small silver lining, as thin as cobweb. Unlike general education students, the two heroics-focused classes had occasional permission to use their Quirks to achieve their goals. Such as winning a sports contest between students, but still. It was something. 

“Gekkō. Your turn.” 

Kei jolted back to life like the engine of a forty-year-old car, covering her mouth with one hand as she yawned. Sure, Bakugō’s big boom ball throw had startled her awake, but she’d slept like total garbage last night. The stress from anticipating a new development in any mission made staying asleep an impossibility. 

So she’d kind of sleepwalked through the first few rounds of fitness tests. A lot of the other students’ Quirks didn’t help with their performances—exemplified by the invisible girl and the boy with electric powers—and so Kei didn’t meaningfully stand out. It helped that the students with physical Quirks usually really excelled at very specific tasks, but were dead average elsewhere. Kei barely needed to work to keep in the middle of the pack, only using her water manipulation for effect. 

And now everyone was looking at her. 

Dammit, Kei thought. She rolled to her feet with a little huff and made her way off the sideline with the air of a two-toed sloth dragged out for a quirky sports movie. 

“Do you need a reminder of what the rules are?” Aizawa asked, his voice as dead as Kei sort of wished she could be in this exact moment. 

“No, Aizawa-sensei,” Kei replied as she passed him. An instant later, she caught the tracker-equipped softball without looking, thought it had been thrown at her head. Not like it would have done any damage even if it made contact.

“Then quit wasting our time.” 

Kei didn’t even remember her placement during the UA entrance exam, but this still felt targeted. The numbers didn’t matter. She’d already known she was in, so the only consideration left was keeping the extent of her powers under wraps.  

It wasn’t like Kei didn’t get why Aizawa “Eraserhead” Shōta hated her presence in the class. Her enrollment in UA was basically anathema to the entire purpose of the program. Sensei and the principal couldn’t just cut the guy entirely out of the loop without causing Kei logistical problems when it came to doing her job. At the very least, an uninformed teacher might ask questions when Kei inevitably ran out of the classroom to deal with some crisis. Just because Aizawa looked like he wouldn’t care if his students fell down an open manhole cover, but that was the trouble with judging by appearances alone. 

I could take over the moment it leaves your hands.

Be my guest. 

Kei tossed the ball in the air, clapped her hands together, and summoned a blob of water that expanded in sync with her hands as she pulled them apart. When the falling softball landed amid the watermelon-sized sphere, it warped briefly into an image of Isobu’s curled-up shell before stabilizing. That was a telltale sign even to people without worthwhile chakra detection abilities—as long as they knew. 

So, basically Aizawa. Kei didn’t need to look in his direction to feel his glare.

There we are. Isobu’s power reached forward to engulf the brand new source of ammunition. 

Then the blob, the captive softball, and some simulacrum of Kei’s dreams shot off into the void. Only the thinnest possible thread of water connected Isobu’s new toy to Kei’s index fingers. Kei and the a couple of her classmates watched its erratic balloon-like course until, inevitably, the thread snapped. 

Eventually, there was a beep from Aizawa’s phone. “Five hundred and fifteen meters.” 

Kei rubbed at her eyes, already done with the entire affair. At least this data might be useful for Kei and Isobu’s future adventures in mass hydrokinesis. Perhaps Isobu’s range would be even larger if they added more of his chakra. Running those experiments would have to wait for another day, though. 

“Next,” said Aizawa. Going by the way a couple of students jumped, the next contestant was already on deck and suffering from stage fright. 

Kei wandered out of the chalk with barely any uptick in energy levels. She even yawned again. If the teacher wanted her out of the way faster, he could damn well throw her out.

But because this mission clearly wanted to establish the kind of pattern embodied by a combat deployment—boredom followed by intense spikes of activity, and then more boredom—Kei didn’t get a chance to nap. She found herself blinking away the drowsiness to the sound of Aizawa verbally ripping a kid to shreds. 

And it wasn’t Kei’s fault. Or even related to her. 

Novel.

While Kei had sat down and read brief profiles on all of her classmates on the Saturday before the term started, their names occasionally slipped her mind despite how painfully on-the-nose they could be. She’d get that data into her head later; for now, all Kei needed was a list of powers. 

Part of the reason Midoriya (today’s sacrifice) stuck out to her was how his name didn’t contain even a hint of his Quirk—just like hers didn’t. Because she didn’t have one. Going off the logic displayed by his classmates’ parents and their naming choices, Midoriya’s personal name should have had something to do with turning his own skeleton into dust. 

With his capture weapon and hair floating like the entire scene was underwater, Aizawa laid out everything wrong with the nervous kid’s approach to the ball toss. Given that the test in question was literally throwing a softball and this kid tended to hover around the middle of the pack, maybe he’d been planning to use his hyper-destructive Quirk to finally get an edge. Like any kid sitting through someone else getting shouted at by a teacher, Kei pretended not to hear the specifics.

It was still sort of difficult not to, even with her classmates trying to build a small reservoir of side chatter to insulate themselves.

There was a lot in Aizawa’s lecture about “basic competence” and paraphrased warnings about not breaking all the bones in his body. Because, well, someone who did that would probably need to be carried off a battlefield on a stretcher if not in a body bag.

“With your power,” Aizawa was saying, his voice as flat and cold as an executioner’s blade, “you can’t become a hero.” 

Midoriya’s expression said he knew damn well what was at stake now. If he couldn’t figure out how to throw a ball without laying himself out flat, he was screwed. 

The real question was if breaking bones was the prerequisite to accessing that monstrous strength, or just a shitty side effect of having no control? If it was the former, the first time the kid fell off a jungle gym or crashed his bike should have made the news along with a crater. 

While the other students consulted among themselves whether they’d ever heard of Eraserhead before—which disengaged Kei even further from the conversation in favor of naptime—Aizawa withdrew from the chalk circle to let Midoriya figure his shit out. He’d either fly or fucking die. 

Aizawa probably didn’t care which. At least, not out loud. Better that this catastrophic failure happened in school and not in the field with lives on the line.

Kei shaded her eyes and awaited some conclusive result.

Midoriya didn’t disappoint; one colossal BANG later, the softball was rocketing off into the distance with a smoke trail marking its trajectory. But unlike the utter travesty that characterized his entrance exam footage, the kid that turned to face the group did so with all limbs intact. He’d destroyed only one finger in the process of setting off his Quirk this time.

Kei frowned while the other students cheered. Aizawa, too, looked excited to find improvement so close on the heels of his first sharp criticism. 

Sure, Blasty McSplode had a problem with Midoriya’s (qualified and still bone-breaky) success and then needed to be wrestled into submission for being a loud jackass literally a foot in front of the teacher, but that wasn’t Kei’s problem. Or, at least, his attitude wasn’t an interesting problem for Kei to puzzle over. 

Midoriya’s, though… There’s something wrong here.

Hm?

I don’t think his Quirk requires him to destroy himself to use it. If it did, he should’ve figured out how to minimize the damage way before he got here. Kei pressed her curled fingers against her lower lip as she thought. Damn, I usually just shrug off questions like this… 

But this secret may affect your risk assessment process when dealing with all of these humans. 

Maybe. But hell if it’s not a personal question. “Hey, what’s the deal with your Quirk totally pulverizing your vulnerable teenage skeleton every time I’ve seen it used?” That’ll go over well. 

“Gekkō,” said Aizawa, interrupting Kei’s thoughts with more school nonsense. He’d apparently picked her out as a zoned-out straggler. “Finish your tests. Side-hops and grip test, go.”

Kei sighed internally and trotted off to a different part of the field.

[thirtysomethingloser92]

Bittersweet Symphony: Chapter 2.

"You're so beautiful like this," You looked over at the man sitting at his desk, a small smile across his face, illuminated by the small lamp. "Like what? Sleep deprived, haven't showered in 3 days, living off energy drinks and spite?" You joked, shifting a bit self consciously on the leather couch. Rafael gave a small chuckle, "Like you. Looking at you like this, I don't think you've ever looked so beautiful,"

“You need to eat,”.

Carisi’s voice next to you brought you out of your self-induced misery. The cursor on the computer screen blinked a few times before you turned to face your partner. “I ate,” you argued, pulling out a packet of rice paper biscuits.

“You know, when my sister was pregnant, there was this little bakery a few blocks from her apartment that made these scones with ginger and chamomile. I’ll see if they still make them and bring them over some time.”

You smiled weakly at his thoughtfulness, but your stomach turned at the thought of food. “Thanks, Sonny, but I’m fine. Really. Me and food aren't really getting along at the moment.”

Carisi’s eyes softened with concern. “You need to eat,” he repeated gently. “It’s not just about you anymore.”

You sighed, knowing he was right. The stress from the ongoing case had been overwhelming, leaving you nauseous and exhausted. All you wanted was to go into the back room and sleep the rest of the day away. Just as you were about to respond, Carisi reached out and took the packet of rice paper biscuits from your hand, replacing them with a granola bar from his pocket.

“At least try this,” he urged. “It’s got nuts and dried fruit. Better than those biscuits. More nutritious for you and the baby.”

You took the granola bar, unwrapping it slowly. The sweet, nutty apricot smell was surprisingly appetizing. You took a tentative bite, and to your relief, it went down easier than expected.

“Better?” Carisi asked, a hopeful glint in his eyes.

“Yeah,” you admitted. “Thanks, Sonny.”

He smiled, the worry lines on his face easing. “You know I’m here for you, right? Whatever you need, just let me know. I'll bring some more of those over to you later on.”

“I know,” you said softly. “And I appreciate it. More than you know.”

He patted your shoulder gently. “Good. Now, let’s take a five-minute break. We’ve been at this for hours, and you need to relax.”

You nodded, grateful for the reprieve. The two of you walked to the break room, where Carisi made a pot of herbal tea. As you sat together, sipping the warm tea, you felt a sense of calm wash over you.

“You’re a good friend, Sonny,” you said, breaking the comfortable silence.

He chuckled. “Just doing my job. Can’t have my partner running on empty, especially now.”

The sincerity in his words touched you deeply. You knew he wasn’t just talking about the job; he genuinely cared about your well-being, you knew that all he wanted was what was best for you and the small being inside you. The past few weeks he had been the one constant in your life, from the moment you told Liv and the look of shock on her face "Is it-?", to Amanda giving you tips and offering you her daughters old baby clothes "I know you've only just gone into your second trimester but its better to be over prepared then under prepared trust me,".

“Thanks for looking out for me,” you said, feeling a surge of gratitude.

“Anytime,” Carisi replied with a warm smile. “We’re in this together. I told you this. It's you, me, the fetus in there and even Barba if he ever gets his head out of his ass” There was a silence that fell between you, and you knew what was coming next, "Have you heard from him?" You paused mid chew,

the granola bar suddenly feeling like lead in your mouth. You took a slow sip of tea, trying to buy yourself a moment to compose your thoughts. “No, I haven’t,” you finally admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

Carisi’s expression was a mix of concern and frustration. “It’s been weeks, hasn’t it?”

“Yeah,” you said, avoiding his gaze. The pain of Rafael’s absence was a constant ache in your chest. “I thought he’d come around by now, but… nothing.”

Carisi sighed, leaning back in his chair. “I know he’s got his reasons, but this isn’t fair to you. Or the baby. Have you asked Liv if she had heard from him?” You gave a small shrug, "Lets be real for a moment, if she had heard from him she would still leave it up to him to come to me. She wouldn't tell me,"

You nodded, blinking back the tears that threatened to spill over. “I just don’t understand how he can be so distant. I thought we were in this together.”

“People react to things in different ways,” Carisi said gently. “But that doesn’t make it any easier for you.”

“I just wish he’d talk to me,” you murmured, feeling the familiar wave of sadness wash over you. “I don’t even know if he wants to be involved anymore. I feel like my whole life is on pause waiting for him. Whether it be waiting for him to call me, or to come back or something. I feel like I'm just stuck in this space and I can't even move on from him until I get some type of closure”

Carisi reached out, taking your hand in his. “Listen, no matter what happens with Rafael, you’re not alone. You’ve got me, and you’ve got the squad. We’ll get through this together.”

“Thank you, Sonny,” you said, squeezing his hand. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“You’re stronger than you think,” he replied with a reassuring smile. “But I’m here for you, every step of the way.”

<:>

Later that evening, as you sat alone in your apartment, the silence was deafening. You picked up your phone, scrolling through old messages from Rafael, trying to make sense of his sudden withdrawal. Your heart ached with longing and confusion. Finally, you decided to call him, hoping to break the silence.

The phone rang a few times before going to voicemail. You took a deep breath and left a message, your voice trembling. “Rafael, it’s me. I just… I need to know what’s going on. Please, call me back. We need to talk.”

You hung up, feeling a mix of relief and dread. You had put yourself out there, and now all you could do was wait. As the minutes turned into hours, the weight of uncertainty settled heavily on your shoulders. <:>

The next morning, you arrived at the precinct feeling more exhausted than usual. Carisi noticed immediately, his brow furrowing with concern. “Any news?” he asked quietly.

You shook your head, trying to keep your emotions in check. “No. Nothing.”

He sighed, pulling you into a comforting hug. “I’m sorry. But remember, we’re here for you. Whatever happens, you’re not alone.”

As the day wore on, you threw yourself into work, trying to keep your mind off the unanswered questions and unspoken words. But every time your phone buzzed, your heart skipped a beat, hoping it was Rafael.

It wasn’t until late afternoon that you finally received a text. Your hands shook as you opened the message.

“Can we meet? - Rafael”

<:>

You couldn’t stop the constant twisting and turning of your stomach. Despite how hungry you felt- the rumbling in your stomach reminding you that you’ve barely eaten anything all day-you couldn’t help the small gag that came over you when the coffee was brought to your table.

God you felt so angry.

The white hot anger that twisted and turned in your stomach with every breath you took. You wanted to yell, you wanted to scream, you wanted to shake him and ask him why you weren’t good enough.

Why did he abandon you?

The silence between you and the man in front of you made your heart ache, conversation between you both used to flow so easily but now, now you couldn’t find a single word to say to him. You knew there was so much you wanted to say, to tell him. There was so many questions you wanted to ask him. So many Why’s you needed answers to, but nothing could come out of your dry lips.

“Is it mine?”.

The words left his mouth quietly, as if he was ashamed for asking. Your head shot up, meeting his brown eyes with your own, the question lingering in the air between you.

Is it mine?

Those words made you feel a hatred you hadn’t ever felt towards Rafael Barba. Not when you first met, not when you would be left red-faced after a lashing from the former ADA, not ever.

“What do you mean is it mine? Of course it’s yours. There isn’t anyone else I’d-“ you swallowed deeply, looking back into the brown liquid inside the cup before pushing it away from you, the smell making you want to regurgitate what little food Carisi managed to shove down your throat before you came.

“Where were you?” You heard your voice break, you wished that you had gotten a glass of water in before starting this conversation. The tears started welling up in your eyes, “I needed you and you weren’t there. Not just for this but for so much more. I woke up, and all you had left me was a note. No one had known where you had gone and I thought-“ You swallowed deeply and began picking at your nails, an anxious trait you had inherited from your grandmother, “I don’t even think it matters anymore. You made your choice,” You stopped picking your nails and looked up, seeing him look at you with an indescribable sadness across his face.

“Of course it matters. I hurt you and for that nothing I do can make up for it. After what happened I couldn’t put you through that. Could you have really been with someone who was labelled a baby killer?” He gave a sarcastic scoff, “I love you. I could never have asked you to give up your career to come with me. To run away with me,”

“But I would have,” You didn’t hesitate to interject, “If you would have asked me to resign and come live in the middle of nowhere with you then I would have,” Your voice rose slightly earning glares from the few patrons in the cafe, “But you took that choice from me thinking you were doing some noble shit. And now I’m pregnant, trying to make decisions that I can’t make by myself. I was alone, I was heartbroken and you weren’t there,”

“And I’m sorry I wasn’t. But I’m here now, I’m here to support you whatever you choose to do,” He went to reach across the table for you but you moved away. The thought of the man you once loved touching you made your skin crawl, you saw who he was and it made you feel sick.

His hand moved back to his cup, “Are you keeping it?”

You let out a small sigh and nodded, “Yep. I don’t-I don’t think I could go through with it. I thought about it, especially since you made it pretty clear you want nothing to do with me, but this is what I’m doing. I'm just over 14 weeks now, so either way this is where we're at. Whether it be with you as co-parents or without you,”

“I was hoping we could talk about that?”

You raised a single eyebrow, motioning for him to continue.

“There wasn’t a day that went by when I didn’t think about you, or what you were doing. I never stopped loving you,”

“Yeah you did. You stopped loving me the day you walked out. I’m not doing this again. I let you in, it took us so long to get where we were. It took years for us to be together and you threw it away because of your ego and your assumptions. I won’t make the same mistake again,” You reached into your small black purse, ruffling around for some bills for the untouched decaf.

“Don’t worry about it, I’ll pay,” Rafael stated simply.

You stood up, a bit unstable in your feet as vertigo hit; you paused for a moment before turning to face the man across from you, “The difference between you and me is that when I said I’d love you forever I meant it. You just don’t seem to get it, what you’ve done. You think that you can come back and walk into my life and nothing has changed. But Rafael everything has changed; everything has changed between us. Do you know what I think? I don’t think you came back here for me, I think you came back for something else. Otherwise where were you weeks ago when I called you?” For the first time since you've known him, there was no words which had left his mouth. No sarcasm or sass, no sincerity or words that could make your heart stop in your chest. There was just silence from him. A silence which made your heart break and your decision final. "Did Liv call you here?" You asked with an air of finality, your voice trembling but resolute. You needed to know, even if it shattered the last remnants of hope you clung to.

Rafael’s face contorted with a mix of guilt and sorrow. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. The silence between you stretched, thick and suffocating.

“That’s what I thought,” you said softly, more to yourself than to him. The reality of the situation washed over you, leaving you feeling hollow.

“Please, let me explain,” Rafael finally managed, his voice barely audible. “Liv did call me. She told me about your condition, how you were struggling. She thought I should know. But I came back because I needed to see you, to try and make things right.”

You shook your head, a bitter smile forming on your lips. “You had every opportunity to come back on your own. But it took Liv calling you to get you here. That says it all, doesn’t it?”

“I know I failed you,” he admitted, his voice breaking. “I thought I was doing the right thing, protecting you from my mess, but all I did was hurt you more. I’m sorry.”

“Sorry doesn’t change what happened,” you replied, the anger and hurt bubbling up again. “Sorry doesn’t change the fact that you abandoned me when I needed you the most. I can’t trust you, Rafael. Not anymore.”

He looked down at his hands, clasped tightly around his coffee cup. “I understand. I just… I want to be there for our child. I want to make things right, if you’ll let me.”

You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. “I appreciate that you want to be involved now, but it’s too late for us. I can’t go back to the way things were. But for the sake of our child, we can try to co-parent. We can try to make this work for them.”

Rafael nodded, tears glistening in his eyes. “I’ll do whatever it takes. I promise.”

You stood up, feeling a strange sense of relief mixed with sadness. “We’ll see. But for now, I need some space. I need to figure out how to move forward from this.”

He rose as well, looking at you with a mixture of regret and hope. “I understand. Take all the time you need.”

You turned and walked away, leaving Rafael standing there in the café. As you stepped outside, the cool air hit your face, and you took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the past few weeks slowly lifting off your shoulders. It wasn’t going to be easy, but you knew you had the strength to face whatever came next.

[pickyourpoisonandevolve]

Hello, have you also been struck with an inane desire to kiss the CoD boys? Did the brainrot demon whisper in your ear “go fuck the masked man, the mustache man, and the Scottish man?” Well you’re in luck. My sleep deprivation vomited this out last night, I did not check for errors and I have NOT played MW. Sorry to all the Gaz fans out there, I genuinely forgot to include him. Sometimes you just gotta purge the fic poltergeists in your brain. I’m sorry. John up next when the demon returns.

All for One, One for All

Part 2 here

TW: NSFW, MDNI, fem reader. I’m bad at tags, sorry.

Down time with the 141 was always a grab bag. If a mission went well it was celebratory, others were solemn. Either way, the group was comfortable enough to have a … physical connection with each other. Hugs and words of comfort common after missions. Hands through hair as you all shared stresses together. But while everyone had a baseline comfortability, as the newbie, you lost out on some of the camaraderie, some of the closeness. It drove you fucking insane.

That’s why you were barely holding it together as Soap and you were close on the couch in the break room, legs tangled as you talked about everything and nothing. The recent mission, what they were doing on leave, cute new recruits. He was always the easiest to talk to, decompress with. Quick to anxieties with, as well as who you both had … predilections to. A master of weaseling his way into talking about your respective secret desires. Like how he had been spending spare time with Ghost on off days. How you couldn’t keep eye contact with your Captain.

Missions were different, there were tasks at hand and jobs to do. But with Price, his hands comforting, ready to protect seemed to linger between you and him, longer than others. Yet you couldn’t keep conversations longer than a few minutes when you debriefed in meetings. Too much perception, you felt like dissolving when his attention was on you too long. You kept the intensity of how much you wanted your Captain to yourself though. You wonder how Soap did it with your Lieutenant. You picked at your hangnails, seemed like you could even smell them nearby, cigarette and cigar smoke lingering in your olfactory memory.

A longing, you told Soap, with your head in your hands, avoiding the embarrassment of eye contact. Stuttering through it, you described the longing, the need for belonging. “You all made it look so easy, it WAS so easy,” You lament. You got here too late, missed the boat on inclusion in the 141. No more room at the inn. They meant everything to you, they were your whole world. And the sneaking ache that you could die tomorrow and they’d move on clawed at your ribcage endlessly. You just… wanted to feel like you meant something to to them, to someone. Wanted someone to steal all the silence in your mind and fill it with warmth. With touch. With lov—

“To someone? Or to him?” You heard, through the static in your ears. The tears you’ve been fighting finally make an appearance.

“Bonnie, hey, darl’,” Soap whispered to you, bringing his lips to your forehead, fingers through your temples. Shh, shh, shh, everything was okay and that the team was here for you. He was here for you. Quieting your mind, his hands ran through your hair and lingered to your neck. You closed your eyes, trying not to feel overwhelmed. “I should have kept my mouth shut you don’t have to pity me.” You said, gently trying to push Soap back.

“Who the fuck said anything about pity.” A different, deeper voice in your ear this time. Panic floods your body as you feel a second pair of hands slide around your shoulders. “No, no, no Ghost, please don’t I’m sorry I shouldn’t—,” you stammer out, fight and flight winning simultaneously as you push immovable bodies and try to pull yourself away. Why you thought that was possible with these two men was beyond you.

Vice grips pull you back down, holding you close to both men’s chests. “Breathe, sergeant.” Delivered as a command. That part of your brain still seemed to function as you took deep breaths, not noticing how Ghost positioned himself on the couch. Leaning back at an angle, he pulled you in his lap, back against his chest and arms around your waist. Feeling his breath against the nape of your neck, steadying, matching his breathing. The smell of cigarettes, pine and sweat fill your senses. Soap slotted himself between both of your legs, into your lap, eyes keeping your focus. Knowing looking at Ghost would throw you completely askew. Ever the team, those two, you thought briefly.

Minutes went by in silence as your breathing slowed, heartbeat returned to normal. Ghost gave you one of his hands to fuss with as you calmed, testing the waters, getting used to him. His other hand carded through Soaps hair, lying in your lap. His nose nuzzled your neck as he broke the silence. “I’m, we’re, sorry for making you feel like the odd man out, sweetheart. Should have done a better job as your lieutenant to make you feel a part of the team.” He took the hand lying in yours and brought it to your stomach, bringing you closer into his chest, rubbing lazy circles. “This is… a lot to some. Who we are as a team. As much as we wanted to bring you in, we didn’t want to scare you away neither.”

“But for what it’s worth, ever since you got here,” Ghost growls, pinky grabbing the edge of your shirt, pulling upwards. “You’ve been ours.”

Everything seemed to move at once. Ghosts hands now on your body properly, exploring your curves and pulling you into him deeper. Soap chuckled lightly, his hands now caressing your hips and breathing into your waistline, peering up at you with big beautiful eyes. “Ours in the royal sense, LT. She’s been called f—“ his words cut off as a rough hand at the back of his head pressed him into your pussy. “Hmm, he’s a lot cuter when he’s down there, huh?” Ghost chuckles into your shoulder. Your heart feels like it’s in your throat, your hands come up and try to meet his, unsure of if you’re trying to push him away or pull him closer. His arms come around and lock yours in place as Soap is released and fingers start to play with the button on your pants. “Let us make up for some lost time, sweetheart,” he growls into your shoulder.

Sheer panic, or disassociation, you’re not sure what gets you through the next moment. But either way it feels like an eternity, watching Soap pull down your pants and panties, feeling Ghost caress the valley between your tits, ambiently trying to steady your heart. Mumbling both to you and himself, he repositions you ever so slightly in his lap, bringing your ass tighter into his hips and spreading your thighs across his, giving Soap better access. “Have no fucking idea how bad we’ve needed you, bird. Been dreaming about your fucking body, how you smell, what you taste like.” You feel his hardness start, pushing up against your ass. Your deep breaths start turning into soft moans, and both men groan into you. Soap kisses you gently on your thighs, leading a trail to your core, nipping you along the way. You feel like glass, any sudden movement and you’ll shatter into Ghosts arms, heart too raw, wants too real. Ghost feels your tension and wraps one arm around your waist as the other brings your shirt above your tits, exposing them to the cold room. His free hand teasing a nipple as he whispered “Stay with me, baby.”

A strangled sound left your throat as you felt Soap’s tongue separate your lips and meet your clit. “Johnny, please, oh God.” Feeling his tongue work you open, you can only focus on your breathing so you don’t float away. Ghost adjusts something behind you as you feel two fingers slide in gently. Broken moans and pleas leave your mouth as you feel lips against your neck, kissing, biting. “Tell me how he feels bird.” Ghost murmurs. Fingers moving faster, faster as Soap attacks your clit. You chance a look down as you meet his eyes, his mouth breaking out into the biggest smile as he lifts his face briefly. A man this pretty should be illegal, you think. “Tell me, bonnie. Tell me what you want.” A sound you’d be downright ashamed of leaves your mouth, clenching around his fingers. “Fuck Soap, I want you, I want—“ His fingers start working your g-spot faster as he teases, “Use your words, bon. I wanna hear you say it.”

“I wanna, I wanna cum Johnny, please” you say in barely a whisper as he coaxes it out of you. All you feel is the cord in your stomach break as every muscle in your body tenses. Soap laughing into your clit, Ghost licking and moaning in your ear, that you belong to us, all of us. A distant part of you wonders why things sound so wet as you look down to Soaps eyes, crinkled as he makes you watch yourself squirt into his mouth.

“Oh my god, oh my god,” you chant as Soap sucks your clit, bringing you down. Everything feels wet, you can feel it at your knees. This couch is gonna have to be burned. Soap gives one last suck to your clit, coming off with a pop. Ghosts breath comes out in short bursts as you feel him grind hard into your ass, grunting in your ear. Soap comes up and grabs you tenderly by your face, kissing you gently, deeply, making you taste. Bringing his forehead to yours, he looks at you, so tender it makes your heart stop. “Told ya we’re here. Cannae do it without ya, sweet.”

Hands gently lay you down on the couch as you remember what your limbs are supposed to feel like. A kiss from each on your forehead as Ghost says “You did so good, sweetheart. I’m gonna take care of our boy here, you stay put, yeah?” Your breathing starts to return to normal, letting feelings flood back slowly. “Oh, okay.” You whisper out, taking a deep breath and sitting up slightly. The big feelings start to creep back in, but a little less heavy. Tears start to flow, not from sadness but something else. You sniff away some of the emotions. “Are we, are we okay, is, oh my god what is Price, what—“ Soap is quick to take a knee next to you, kissing your tears away and cooing shhhh’s in your ear. You’ve been so distracted by this attention that you finally notice the smell in the room, stronger than earlier. Cloves, a sweetness, cigar smoke.

Your head snaps back to the chair across from you all, and your breath dies in your throat. Blue eyes locked into yours, like he’s never looked at anything else. He crushes the last of his cigar into the ashtray beside him and leans forward, hands gripping his knees tightly. “You broken, sweetheart?”

[save-the-villainous-cat]

Hii, do you think you could do a piece with a sleep deprived and overworked hero, and then the villain notices and takes care of them please. Thank you, and I love your writing!!

The hero stared at the ground, trying to catch their breath as best as they could. They were wheezing, in fact, and they couldn’t handle the sudden adrenaline rush very well. Soon enough, their body got tired again and they wanted to sit here for an eternity.

“Is this gonna be a regular thing? You know, just ask me on a date, that would spare me a lot of trouble.” The villain offered the hero their hand and the hero begrudgingly decided to take it.

“I didn’t ask you to save me. Again.” The hero staggered and more or less luckily, the villain’s hand was on their lower back immediately, preventing an undoubtedly embarrassing fall. “And I didn’t ask you to be in my business all the goddamn time.”

The hero took a step back and tried to put more distance between them. They couldn’t waste their time with the villain here, they had work to do, they had things to take care of. The hero needed to collect more data, needed to fight more criminals, needed to work harder and be better.

“Jeez, relax. Was just trying to help, sunshine.” The villain shrugged and let a knife of theirs disappear in their pocket. They looked the hero up and down. “But seriously, are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” the hero said through gritted teeth, lying as if the villain wouldn’t notice.

Obviously, the hero wasn’t doing well. For over a week now, they couldn’t sleep. They were so stressed with upcoming elections (and thus potential sabotages as well as assassinations) that they couldn’t fall asleep, even though they were a walking corpse that longed for rest more than anything. As if that wasn’t enough, they had to concentrate on their usual tasks: battles and paperwork put more stress on them than they could’ve ever imagined.

“You can’t concentrate, your coordination is shit and you’re easily irritated. Don’t think I wouldn’t notice that.” The villain took a step forward, so close to the hero that their head started spinning.

“Honestly, don’t worry about it. You shouldn’t care. We’re enemies,” the hero said. They avoided the villain’s eyes. At work, no one really talked about overworking. No one acknowledged how miserable this job could be.

“We slept together like six times,” the villain said.

“And that was a mistake.”

“Six times? Seems more like a habit.”

“Okay, well, urgh.” The hero put a hand on the villain’s chest. Admittedly, they craved the villain’s attention and touch. They craved a lot of things right now, especially someone who could comfort them. But they made it seem as if they wanted to stop the villain from coming closer.

“We’re not strangers,” the villain said. “I know you. I know you’re not okay. You carry a bunch of stuff with you and you refuse to unpack it. That’s fine, I respect it, but I’d really like you to be okay.”

The hero closed their eyes. Was it bad that they wanted to feel the villain’s fingers on them? Those bloody and scarred hands?

“It’s just…lots of work at the moment. I don’t do well under too much pressure.”

“So, you can’t sleep? Is that it?” The villain’s eyes pierced into the hero’s and the hero could remember the last time they’d been this close a little too well.

Not that it mattered but back then, the hero had stared down at the sweating villain whom they’d pushed into the mattress.

“It’s difficult.”

“You know you can always come to my place.”

“I don’t wanna trouble you.”

“You only trouble me on the battlefield and those are two sides of the same coin.” The villain took in a deep breath. “Just think about it. I kinda miss you. And we don’t even have to do anything. You just need someone to make you a proper dinner.”

“As if I’m living on instant noodles.”

“You are living on instant noodles. Think about it.”

They pressed a soft kiss to the hero’s cheek and it was safe to say that the villain spoiled the hero when they visited them that night.

[my-autism-adhd-blog]

Hi there! First of all I just discovered your blog and it helped me understand a lot about autism. I was recently diagnosed and I had maaany questions, and going through your blog gave me some answers. So thank you so much for your dedication! ✨

I was wondering if you could share some stuff about burnouts? I saw the post of the signs of burnouts, but I was wondering if you had information about what are the common causes or how to deal with them?

Have a great day/night!

Hi there,

I found some information in burnout recovery and causes:

Text

Signs

* Lack of motivation (hard to care about goals when everyday life is overwhelming)

* Loss of executive functioning abilities (decision-making, organization, etc.)

* Difficulty with self-care

* Easier to reach overload or meltdown

* Loss of speech, selective mutism

* Lethargy, exhaustion

* Illness, digestive issues

* Memory loss

* Inability to maintain masks or use social skills

* Overall seeming "more autistic" or stereotypical

* May have period of high energy before collapse

causes

* Passing as neurotypical / suppressing autistic traits

* Doing 'too much', too much stress

* Aging: needing more downtime, having less energy

* Changes, good or bad (relationships, jobs, living arrangements, belongings, environment, routines...)

* Sleep deprivation, poor nutrition, dehydration

* Illness

* Sensory or emotional overload

strategies

* Time

* Scheduling breaks, managing spoons

* Leave of absence

* Stimming, sensory diet

* Exercise

* Reassured and supports

* Routines

* Better environment/job/etc.

* Boundaries, saying 'no'

* Dropping the mask/façade

* Solitude

* Absolute quiet

* Creative projects, passions, special interests

* Paying attention to reactions and your body

Here’s another Infograph I found:

Text

Sleep and rest as much as you can. We often need more sleep than allistics and it is especially crucial to meet our need for extra sleep while in burnout.

Reduce your energy expenditure. Within reason, reduce social time and the amount of information you are taking in on a daily basis. This often means saying no, even to things you think you

"want" to do. (ex. re-watch TV rather than start new shows)

Engage in special interests at a comfortable and sustainable level. Rather than doing in-depth research, try decorating your space with posters or objects related to your special interests or watching a TV show related to one of them.

Focus on your hypersensitivities. Use earplugs/ headphones/sunglasses, use dishwashing gloves and a mask while cleaning, wear comfortable clothes, eat safe foods, leave spaces that are too bright, loud, or fragrant.

Stim!! MOVEMENT: dance, rock, tap, flap, stretch, walk, stim toys.

TOUCH: soft fabric, self-massage, play with hair. VISUAL: watch

TV/ movie, kaleidoscope, coloring book, satisfying videos

AUDIO/VOICE music, singing, echolalia. REPETATION/SORTING: solitaire, puzzles, sorting objects, repetitive doodles, counting.

VERY slowly create systers/routines that automate your care needs and implement them very slowly. This can look like visual aids, timers, lists, bullet journols, weekly routines, Expect if to take time and trial and error to get into these habits. Pick I-2 habits or systems to implement at a time, starting with the ones you're most excifed about.

Autistic burnout and Complex PTSD have a lot in common and executive dysfunction often increases during burnout, so resources made for these can be very helpful.

Burnout Recovery

I hope this helps. Thank you for the inbox. I hope you have a wonderful day/night. ♥️

[snailsgoingdowntown]

Help I Reincarnated as the Female Lead’s Sister-in-Law!

  1  2  3  4  5  6  7  8  9  10  11 13 14

Chapter 12

‘Slight’ Yandere! Dion Agriche x Fem! Reader

Arranged marriage AU

Warnings: consumption of alcohol, Reader gets drunk, mention of self-harm (wanting to bite thumb. Again.), thinking of self-harm (Reader wants to make herself pass out by smashing her head against something), probably near panic attack, one (1) tiny undescriptive vomit scene, kind of implied death threat/threat(s) in general (?),  slight obsessive and possessive themes, overall slight yandere themes near the end, toxic relationship/marriage, underage drinking (only a sip but still), Lant being the POS he always have been. Please tell me if I missed any.

Not exactly NSFW warnings: encouraging implied non-con

NOTE: if he’s completely out of character, just pretend Dion’s sleep deprivation is finally catching up to him.

DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT CONDONE ANY OF THE HARMFUL AND/OR DANGEROUS ACTIONS AND/OR BEHAVIORS THAT MAY TAKE PLACE IN THIS PIECE OF FICTION. THESE ACTIONS/BEHAVIORS SHOULD NOT BE NORMALIZED NOR ROMANIZED AS THEY ARE BOTH EXTREMELY DANGEROUS AND TOXIC.

MINORS/BLANK BLOGS/BLOGS THAT DO NOT INTERACT OR REBLOG ANYTHING FANDOM RELATED (FICW, ART, ETC.) DNI

= = =  

The walk to the dining room feels like a death march. Every step makes your legs grow weaker, knees throbbing harder. The echo of your heels sets your nerves on fire, imagining it getting louder and louder as you run away, until you reach the front doors. But, of course, you would only get lost in this maze-like structure. And if you somehow manage to reach the front door, you would be killed on sight.

That much is obvious. 

The truth of the fact only makes you crave to bite your thumb. Almost giving in until you see Hana shake her head no once she notices.

You wish you were back in the room with Anne and Charis. To hear them gush over ‘girly’ things while Hana scolds them for not doing their job. 

You wish you were home. 

Your mouth is shut tight, shoulders stiff as your head hangs low. Like you were being led to your own execution, Lant giving the order as Dion carried it out. You wouldn’t be surprised if that were to happen, someday. Sooner rather than later.

The black lace at the hem of your dress covers your shoes, barely grazing the floor. The cold air nips at your exposed skin. Your bun is starting to feel a little too tight, pulling at your scalp despite Hana being extremely careful with it. The neck piece has been choking you, but now it’s suffocating. 

You feel light headed. 

You’re on the verge of panting, flight-or-fight response knocking on the door of your sanity. Legs stiff, begging you to stay in place before your heart gives out from the stress, you continue on despite the way your head starts to feel dizzy. No, you think, no.

If you faint, it’s all over. If you faint, Dion may become brasher with his advances on making you as crazy as he is. If you faint, Lant might decide you’re not worth the trouble and give you to someone as a toy. 

Or hand you back to your parents in a bodybag. 

“-Lady? My Lady?” 

“Huh? Wh-what?” Owlishly blinking, your thoughts are driven away at the sound of Hana’s ‘concerned’ voice - you look ahead of you. A single door.* Wait.

No. 

This - this -

“This isn’t the dining room, is it, Hana?” It comes out more as a statement rather than a question, voice low as your entire body becomes rigid. This looks more like a personal room. Important.

“...yes, my Lady. It’s where they hold the grand feast.” You think there’s slight guilt in her voice, and the thought does little to ease your nerves. Well, you think, it’s not like she told you you were going to the dining room. Your idiotic self just assumed so. And perhaps, out of pity, Hana didn’t tell you, giving you the illusion of being in an open space and not in a closed off room.

…yeah, God really does hate me. 

Then you remember that you shouldn't know what the grand feast was - thus, you ask her about it a moment later. 

“It takes place once a month. Each month, the siblings are evaluated based on their accomplishments for the month - there are three top spots. Whoever does the best are evaluated highly, making them the most useful to the Agriche family.”

The most useful to Lant.

She continues, “young master Dion is always at first place, Lady Roxana second, and the third place tends to be a different sibling every other month. I heard a rumor that young Master Fontaine may be at third spot this month.” Once she’s done giving you information about it, you nod your head, hiding the fact you already knew that with a small gulp.

If anyone were to find out you did, your head may roll off your shoulders. After they question you, of course. Torture you too.

“I see. Interesting. I didn’t expect any less from those two,” you lifelessly chuckle out, ignoring the odd look Hana gives you. She doesn’t question you, instead knocking on the door before opening it after Lant gave permission loud enough to be heard from the other side. You can hear the pulsation of both your blood and heart in your ears. It almost drowns out all other noises. 

Lant is the first one to make eye contact with you. They remind you of a snake, already squeezing you alive as his presence wraps itself around your body, restricting movement and threatening to choke you. You can barely breathe, lungs working overtime just to take in oxygen.

You feel faint. 

“Congratulations on joining the Agrich family,” your twisted father-in-law begins as he stands in front of the window, “I heard you’re adapting rather quickly. An accomplishment, all things considered.” His grin spells egotistical as his hands remain in his pockets. 

Go kill yourself.

Too much of a coward to say your true thoughts, you give a wavering smile. Keep your head upright. Straighten your back. Feed into his ego. 

“Thank you, father-in-law,” you bow, wanting to smash your head against the floor so hard you’ll pass out. “It’s truly an honor to be here - both as your daughter-in-law and as Dion’s wife.” When you lift your head your smile becomes pretty, just as you practiced. But the corners of your lips threaten to fall into a frown. It becomes more painful as the seconds pass. 

This alone reminds you that you are not Roxana. Cunning and manipulative - none of which describe you. You’re nothing more than a rabbit about to be torn into by a hungry pack of wolves. 

Your skin crawls when he smiles.

“And you already know your place - I knew I made a good choice in choosing you.” His smugness only adds fuel to your fear along with finding the idiotic fool even more detestable. However, Lant is the one in power here, not you. You have to play under and by his rules. 

Even if it means bearing a child you might not be able to love. 

Freezing fear starts to collide with heated hatred the longer he fuels his self-conceit, marveling over his ‘brilliant’ idea. Yet when he smiles at you again, eyeing you, gaze scanning your entire body, it makes your hairs stand on edge. Thankfully, there is no lust in those eyes - rather, pending judgement. 

He nods his head in approval as your husband keeps his attention on his father. Quickly glancing over at him in his seat, you notice that his eyes don’t hold indifference as they did in the manhwa - no, rather, it was -

“Come sit down; our introduction as true in-laws is long overdue.” At his command you take a seat across from Dion as Lant sits at the end of the table near the window. Any thoughts about Dion are driven away as Lant continues to talk. 

His voice makes your head hurt and your ears bleed. 

“You were one out of three girls I had my sights on. The first one was too haughty and the second wasn’t even allowed to attend public events more often than not - it was hard to gather any information on her.” He picks up his wine glass and takes a sip. 

Three girls…? I didn’t know about this… wait, why is he even telling me this -

Oh. 

He’s saying I’m replaceable. 

The realization hits you like a truck, leaving you a mental mess as you keep - attempt to - appearance. Your hands shake almost violently in their place under the table and on your lap. Sweat starts to pool on the back of your neck as you pat your temples down with a napkin the second the death flag turns his attention to Dion, your husband staring right back - after he takes a glance at you, and you shudder at the look he gives.

You can’t tell what he’s thinking and you’re not sure if you want to. After all, ignorance is bliss. 

And it’s that same ignorance that prevents you from seeing how those scarlet eyes soften ever so slightly, unaware of how beautiful he finds you. Well, even if you did, you would just say it’s part of your imagination. 

The idea of someone like Dion harboring any romantic feelings towards anyone - yourself included - nearly makes you sick to your stomach. So, therefore, your truth must be the right one.

Dion switches his attention to his father when he asks him a question.

“So, son? How well is her training going?” The bastard really did see you as nothing other than a pet. The metaphorical leash around your neck tightens. You can basically feel Lant tugging at it. 

You wait with baited breath for your husband’s answer - you weren’t exactly… ‘obedient.’ Avoiding him, refusing and rejecting his advances that took place on the second day, ‘talked back’ during the thumb incident, pretending to be asleep the second you heard and felt the bed creak when he woke up. Unable to act like the ‘perfect wife,’ shivering in fear even when he’s not doing anything, just laying with his back towards you on your shared bed. 

Wait, he’s a sadist, you tell yourself. But he’s also a perverted creep. Wanting to touch you despite knowing your dislike for it and -

“She wouldn’t be here if you didn’t approve of her,” is his answer as he takes a sip of his drink. He doesn’t even bother to make eye contact with him while answering. “She would be dead.” 

Your mind shatters as your heart drops. You’re forced to bite your lip just so you wouldn’t become hysterical with tears. You already expected this interaction to flow in a similar direction.

Even so, it doesn’t stop your anxiety.

So, he really was only keeping you to study how a sane mind breaks. Little by little, he’ll observe you until the day you either become like them or kill yourself. And then what?

The answer is unknown to you. But did they already have it?

Of course they do.

They’re Agriches.

Out of the corner of your eye you see Lant raises an eyebrow only for his face to draw into a disgusting grin. “That’s an interesting answer. But yes, you’re right; the girl wouldn’t be breathing right now if she disappointed me.” They’re talking as though you were not in the same room as them.

No-one has touched their food, only the wine that was already served. You take a sip yourself, holding back the grimace from the bitterness. They don’t notice, lost in their own little world. But the topic - you - doesn’t change. 

“Honestly, I wasn’t sure if it was the right time to wed you off - but I’m glad I did now. The younger the better, right?” Chuckling out the last part, your father-in-law leans over to pat your husband’s shoulder and you swore that he twitched just a bit.

The stress must be making you see things. 

Another sip as you slowly start to mentally check out. If you don’t you really will lose your mind and sanity. After considering it, you start to poke at your food before cutting into the steak and taking a bite. Juicy and delicious, the flavor only reminds you of just how rich this family is - how easy it was for them to handcuff you with a shiny little pretty ring.

Neither you nor your husband wear the damn thing, the cursed item still in the deep blue box in some drawer. The memory of it makes you take another bite, hoping that you’ll be distracted by the delicious meal. 

The pieces threaten to choke you as they slide down your throat, taking another swing of the bitter, red wine to wash it down. You don’t even notice that Dion was starting to eat as well, leaving Lant the only one who wasn’t. 

Drinking some more wine to overthrow the sour taste of vomit as you throw up in your mouth, quickly swallowing it down before it threatens to overflow and drip down your chin. Holding back the gag reflex caused by the repulsive taste, a buzz is starting to fill your head. It’s barely there, faint in the background, your hand wrapping around the stem, swishing the liquid around, studying the color through the transparent glass.

A rich red.

The wine you drank on your eighteenth birthday was sweeter than this. You also didn’t drink much of it, preferring the tea your father gifted you. The memory of placing it on the table, only for Zac to taste the alcoholic drink only for you to scold you as soon as noticed it surfacing. 

The memory contracts the current situation so vastly. It only reminds you of how fucked you are, toes curling in your heels. It doesn’t hurt as much as it should.

Blinking, you continue on your journey to finish the drink, keeping your mouth busy before you start to beg and beg and beg for the two men to release you peacefully. 

Suddenly remembering there was a plate of flavorful food in front of you, you resume eating it.

Your fork and knife clink against the plate, sound echoing in your ears as the two male voices drown out in the background. Stabbing the steak with your fork, you fail to notice your husband taking a quick glance at you only for his eyes to land on his father when he addresses him. 

Another sip of wine. 

Another bite of meat.

The more you eat the more you drink. 

The buzz in your head is only starting to get stronger, accepting a refill a servant offers. While he pours it, the voices of Dion and Lant starts to become distant, their figures slightly blurry but not by much. Lant doesn’t look your away the entire time, praising his son about a mission he completed not too long ago. Since when did the topic change?

It’s becoming harder not to down the drink, vaguely aware of the confused and concerned look from the servant. However, he doesn’t deny you a second refill much less than a third, keeping an eye on your behavior, worried you’ll act out of line. It wasn’t for your safety but rather his - there’s no telling if your father-in-law would blame him for your drunk behavior. And yet, despite knowing this, the worried man still doesn’t deny you the drink that’s only making the buzz get stronger, cheeks feeling hot and a feeling of relaxation you oh so needed. 

It’s a miracle you’re able to lift your fork effortlessly and not choke on your meal. 

Their conversation is one-sided, with Lant doing all the talking as Dion listens. Quickly, your eye flicks upwards and across from you, curiosity biting at your fuzzy mind. It’s almost becoming a need to see your husband’s stoic face, slight amusement at the thought of him not caring and maybe even resentful towards and for his father.

Only to be met with scarlet.

How pretty.

Your head tilts, pondering why you’re so interesting to him - always catching his attention these days. Yet before being wed to him, you were nothing more than a plain and common flower in the garden; there, playing your role but unnoticeable. Only noticed once in a while when he had to turn his head. 

The more you think about it, the more you question it -was it really only to study how your sanity dwindles?

He confuses you.

He scares you.

He annoys you. 

Every emotion he stirs from within you is never positive. You wonder just how aware he is of that fact. If he enjoyed it, even. 

You blink once. Twice. A third time brings out a small smile - the alcohol has finally run its course, your judgment impaired, nothing but confusement and pity forming for the horrible man. 

Does he know you’re planning on asking Roxana for help to divorce him? To escape from this torturous place and start a new life, not wanting to drag your family further into this mess?

Does he know his ‘kindness’ is only driving you away? That you’re so sure he’s only keeping you around willingly to see how you bend and break?

Does he know your ‘affection’ will never be earned if some small part of him is also hoping for that?

The longer you smile the more his eyes widen, surprised you were able to show him a genuine one. However, neither of you keep it up for long, quickly returning to your practice and his default expressions. Lant doesn’t notice this, too busy commanding the servant for a light once everyone is done eating. 

The older man puffs it before talking once more. The room starts to smell like heavy smoke. Thanks to your drunkenness it doesn’t bother you as much.

“But yes, that’s what I’m planning. Not anytime soon but in a few months. I expect you to help prepare the preparations before taking care of the vermin once everything is said and done.” His cocky demeanor is gone, serious as he talks about…

Actually, what is he talking about?

Does it involve you? If not, why bother having you here with him? To use it as a scare tactic? If so, it’s not like he needed one - you’re already terrified of them as is. 

Feeling eyes on you you turn your head, making eye contact with Lant. taking in your appearance, he grins, turning to Dion next. You don’t understand what he means with his next words directed at your husband.

“Girls like her are easier when drunk. It’s best to get busy with her already - to get her used to it. We’ll put her on contraceptives for now until it’s time.” Your drunken state entertains him and you’re not sure why. 

However, your (e/c) eyes travel to Dion, curious as to why his grip on his fork tightens just the slightest bit. Eyes only narrowing for a split second, a faint scowl across his handsome features. It quickly goes away before Lant notices, the man chuckling at his own ‘advice.’ 

Oh well, you think. Your glass is almost empty, accepting your last refill for the night. The bitterness doesn’t go away. You only got used to it.

Will it be the same for you towards your husband? 

“While it’s amusing to see her get drunk, it’s time to cut her off.” Lant gestures to the servant to put the bottles of wine away after getting his own refill. The dinner is about to come to an end, it seems. 

At the ring of a bell two maids come in, cleaning up. You take one last swing before they take away the glass from your loose grip. Head softly rocking back and forth, the buzz and warmth of your person starts to make your eyes feel heavy. 

When was the last time you got drunk? Probably in your previous life, right before -

“Let’s call it a day.” Both daughter-in-law and son look at the oldest with the highest authority in the room. Facial muscles relaxing, one could almost confuse him for a normal man. 

“You’re both dismissed.”

- - -

You can barely walk on your own two feet. Supporting yourself on Dion’s arm, your own looped with his, your vision slightly blurry. Had you been fully aware of your surroundings, you would have noticed the small shudders he would give each and every time your head leans into his arm. 

Meanwhile, your husband is having a dilemma. He should carry you. You would weigh nothing to him, and it would be faster. Maybe too fast. 

Dion has no intention of sleeping with you in your state, the thought distasteful. But the suggestion from Lant was only to be expected, his morals worse than the majority of the family’s. It wasn’t a surprise but it doesn’t make it any less worse.

Annoyed doesn’t even begin to describe his feelings towards it. His face has been looking rather punchable lately and -

His thoughts are disrupted as you trip on your own feet, and had you not been holding onto him, your face would have kissed the floor. After a blink you look up at him and drunkenly giggle. You reek of alcohol.

In spite of that, he can’t help but to find you cute - his eye twitches. He wasn’t raised this way. He didn’t desire much if anything, going along with the flow. Even after seeing Roxana cry for the first and only time, the void that is him never truly got filled. 

He’s a horrible person. He knows that much, hands stained red and sins etched into his bones, hell already reserving a spot for him. The day he dies will be the day he’ll willingly walk into the fiery pits of hell, expecting to see the rest of his family there. 

He’s startled when you nuzzle your head into his arm, looking up at him with such dreamy eyes. But there’s also a hint of something close to resentment, not fully clear as it’s also mixed with something else he can’t put his finger on.  

Like you know him. 

But it’s not as clear as his own gaze, it’s not as certain whenever he gives into temptation and looks at you. You sigh out his name, breathless but oh so familiar, like you’ve known him for years and not months. 

Then, it hits him - you know little bits and pieces about him, but not enough to see the full picture. Aware that something is off despite only meeting him a handful of times. 

That night where your guard was down was already pointing in that direction, but now it’s confirmed. There is no fear inside him at the realization, but rather he grins - how long until you come to accept and acknowledge his feelings? 

Or rather, will you be capable of that? To accept everything that is him - the sins, the crimes, the blood and sadistic tendencies that are unremovable from him. 

He finally decides to pick you up when you start to doze off, your head fuzzy and judgement impaired. Maybe he’ll keep this part of the night a secret - it would only serve to drive you away further. Dion thinks about taking a bite when you snuggle into his chest, yawning as you do so. 

But then your eyes open again, looking up at him as you say -

“You’re horrible.”

He’s a horrible husband. For finding your words amusing despite how honestly you say them. He can’t tell if he’s smirking or giving a rather ugly grin, all things considered. Obsession and possessiveness are both dangerous things. Combine the two together and add him to mix, it only makes Dion Agriche all the more detestable. 

Even more so when his grip on you tightens, unrelenting, not giving you any room to wiggle out of his grasp, the one and only time he’s able to hold you so close without his lovely wife overthinking his every action. Not that you do, sighing as your eyes flutter close, sleep finally taking over. You look so pretty in his arms and the urge to hide you away gets stronger. And had you opened those pretty eyes to look at your husband, you wouldn’t be able to deny that he’s absolutely obsessed and he’d rather die than let you go, scarlet eyes unblinking as he admires you. 

And perhaps that was for the best, the twenty-year-old male knowing it would only scare you off more. 

“That doesn’t and won’t change things, wife.”

Even so, it’s hard to ignore the small sting of your honesty.

===

Note: *in the manhwa  it looks like it’s just one door in chapter 4 when Roxana and Jeremy go to attend the great feast or whatever. I also don't know if it's his office or not.

tags: @tiny-mimi

[dreamy-pill]

A sketch for the Summer Job AU (updated)

I had this idea for the Summer Job AU where instead of getting a job for the summer first, Steven is thrown into the Mystery Shack’s workplace during the spring time in order to pay off his debt for defacing public property: Steven saw trouble in front of the Mystery Shack while passing through and got into a fight with a gem monster, leading to the said defacing of property. And somewhere along the way, Steven does get to work off his debt just before the summer begins, except he actually considers working there full time for the summer and becomes an employee.

I just had this idea. Steven was only responsible for cleaning up the Mystery Shack lot. He still hasn’t told anyone of his gem powers yet, so most of the time Steven would spend all-nighters just cleaning up and gardening. Can you imagine how impressed Stanley would be when he sees how new his property looks and just assumes Steven is a hard worker with a green thumb? I think that could be a reason why Steven considered gardening while working in the Mystery Shack.

Stan would have likely discovered Steven’s gem powers and not pay it any mind because you know “as long as it helps get the mess cleaned up, doesn’t matter to me.” Until he does eventually start paying closer attention to Steven’s gem powers and thinks about the portal.

I think Soos and Steven would get along just fantastic. You have a handyman who can fix anything and a hybrid who can bond broken materials back together with his powers.

Then somewhere in the middle of summer, Steven unconsciously starts carrying all the load around the Shack, just like he did at Little Homeschool. He’ll still be keeping tabs on his therapist and keeps talking to his friends and family, but you know sometimes old habits do die hard. Steven will likely be sleep deprived because of Bill slipping into his dreams and that makes him try to cover up any trace of his stress around everyone.

Anyway, that was the concept for this AU and I just drew over the older sketch. That’s some weak line art. See how tired Steven is? Maybe he’s wearing eyeliner. Idk

[adrienneleclerc]

Grovel

Pairing: Walter Marshall x Hispanic/Latina! Reader

Summary: Walter begs Y/N for forgiveness after something that will test their relationship happens

Warnings: CHEATING, angst, spelling and grammar mistakes

A/N: based on April Jai’s unreleased song “Grovel”, I have no idea when it will be released but I can't wait for the song. This also doesn't follow Night Hunter/NOMIS canon, Walter is 40, Y/N is 32

Walter Marshall thought that after his divorce with Angie, he was not going to find someone else. He believed he came with a lot of baggage because he is a homicide detective, that was until he met Y/N, a nurse.

Y/N was the one that treated Walter's bullet wound when he was on the Simon case and when he sees her in a bar a month later, they hit it off and went on 5 dates before Walter decided to ask her to be his girlfriend.

5 years later, they are still together and Y/N has moved into Walter's house and they are so happy and in love.

Until tonight.

It all started 3 days ago, it was 4 in the afternoon and Y/N was getting out of the hospital. Her car was in the shop and Walter said that he would gladly drop her off and pick her up. 10 minutes later, Walter picked her up.

"Hello, darling, how was your shift today?" Walter asked, pulling out of the hospital parking lot.

"It was good, a little tiring, but nothing a cuban coffee can't fix. How was your day, Oso?" Y/N asked.

"Stressful as fuck." Walter muttered.

"You're still on that case?" Y/N asked.

"Yes. We have no leads, it is like this guy is always three steps ahead and its pissing me the fuck off." Walter huffed out. Y/N took his hand in hers and rubbed her thumb over his hand in an attept to soothe him.

"You'll get this guy, i'm sure of it." Y/N said.

When they got home, Y/N saw the folders, clue board, everything that Walter had in his office at the police department was in his living room.

"You're working from home?" Y/N asked.

"I figured it would be better to focus all my attention on this case so I brought some of the files home, i hope that's okay." Walter said, sitting down at the table to look over things he might have missed with this case.

“Yeah it’s fine, Oso, that’s your job. Just don’t work too hard, okay? Sleep is not for the weak.” Y/N says.

“I know, love, I won’t turn into a zombie.” Walter said and they kissed.

Which brings us to tonight, Y/N took an Uber home because Walter’s phone was turned off. When Y/N entered the house, she found Walter drinking coffee in the living room, the same way she left him this morning and the day before.

“How was your day, Walter?” Y/N asked. Walter ignored her, writing notes on the case. “Well, my day was good, I worked with some of the pediatric patients, el día fue súper leve.”

“Y/N, I’m trying to work here.” Walter said.

“I see that, but you haven’t moved from this spot. Have you eaten? La estufa sigue igual de limpio, have you been living off coffee?” Y/N asked. Walter stayed silent. “Okay, fine, did you buy what I asked you to get?”

“You said I haven’t moved from this spot so clearly I haven’t gotten what you asked for.” Walter snapped, looking up from the table.

“No me hables así, eh, ni siquiera mi papá le habla así a mi mamá, Don’t try me, Walter.” Y/N said as she walked to the kitchen.

“Ugh, even Angie wasn’t such a bitch.” Walter muttered and Y/N stopped to turn around.

“You know what, you’re stressed, you haven’t eaten, you’re probably sleep deprived, let me just cook and we can talk after you take a nap, okay.” Y/N said but Walter then slammed his hands on the table.

“I am not a child, Y/N, you don’t have to smother me, and you are most certainly not my wife so stop acting like it.” Walter raised his voice and Y/N widened her eyes.

“I May not be your wife but I am your girlfriend, and I deserve to be respected, Walter.” Y/N said.

“I am not going to sit here and be nagged by you, I’m going out.” Walter huffed.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Y/N shouted.

“Out! Are you having trouble hearing me more than usual?” Walter asked as he left the house, closing the door behind him.

“Ugh, me encabrona!” Y/N shouted. This was their first big fight. Y/N calmed down a little and she wanted to cry because she just drove her boyfriend out of his house.

Walter sat in his truck to calm down a little. “FUCK!” Walter shouted, hitting his steering wheel. He drove somewhere he thought he would stop visiting after Faye went away to college; Angie’s house.

Walter rang her doorbell and Angie opened the door in Jeans and a sweater.

“Walter? What are you doing here? Faye doesn’t come back until spring break.” Angie said.

“I know, I came to talk to you.” Walter said.

“You should have called, this isn’t a good time.” Angie said.

“I think I messed things up with Y/N.” Walter said. Angie sighed and moved out of the way so Walter can come in. Angie walked to the couch and patted on the empty space next to her.

“Tell me everything. Y/N seems very sweet, kinda young, but she’s a good person, what the hell did you do?” Angie asked him

“I’ve been too focused on this case that i forgot to pick her up from her job since they are working on her car, I yelled at her, basically called her a bitch, and disrespected her. She just wanted to to take care of me, to stop me from getting burnout, and I yelled at her and disrespected her. Saying that she should stop acting like she’s my wife.” Walter said. His eyes were tearing up.

“Wow, that’s a lot to unpack.” Angie said.

“Why did we get a divorce, Angie?” Walter asked.

Why are you asking me that?” Angie asked.

“Was it me? Was I the problem?” Walter asked. Angie looked at him, saw that Walter looked practically broken.

“Listen, Walter, we got married in our early 20s. We were young, we weren’t going to last anyway. You tried your hardest to make me happy, and i was happy with you for a while. You are a great father to Faye, you put your all in our relationship, but you are also a workaholic.” Angie said softly. “It’s not a bad thing, you’re a cop, someone has to get the bad guys, right? I couldn’t handle that because I’m not used to it. But Y/N is a nurse, right? A nurse and a cop, what could be better than that? She knows the heavy workload you have because she has the same.”

“So what you’re saying it that I pushed away the one person who could possibly understand me.” Walter said.

“Sorta. You shouldn’t have yelled at her, she was just trying to get you to relax and eat, God knows how much I tried to get you to eat back when you were still on the SWAT Team.” Angie said.

“My job is stressful, Angie, you know that.” Walter said.

“And so does she. I’m sure you’ll make it right.” Angie said. Then Walter’s stomach growled and bleh of them laughed.

“Yeah, Y/N wasn’t lying when she said I was living off coffee, do you have anything to eat?” Walter asked.

“I Can order us takeout. You want Chinese, Italian, or Latin food?” Angie asked, holding out the menus she keeps in a kitchen drawer.

“Latin food.” Walter said, already missing Y/N’s cooking.

“You got it, detective.” Angie said.

While Y/N was drinking wine, eating ice cream, and watching movies that make her cry (for me it’s how to train your dragon, Beethoven, elemental, I’m a sensitive and emotion person, okay), Walter was getting nostalgic with Angie, eating and drinking.

"Remember that time you stayed up with me for a case when I just started working as a homicide detective?" Walter asked, eating a piece of chicken with his rice.

"Oh my god, yes, I was so tired, I think I crashed around 4am, I was exhausted at work." Angie said.

"I told you that you didn't have to stay up, but you were so stubborn and made us coffee after you put Faye to bed." Walter said.

"I had to support my husband." Angie said, taking a sip of wine.

More time went on, they finished the bottle of wine, and one thing led to another, Walter kissed Angie.

Y/N saw that the time was 10pm and Walter still hasn't come home yet. She got off the couch and unlocked her phone to call Walter, it went to voicemail after a few rings.

"Hey Oso, please come back home. We both have said some things, you mostly, but I really want to talk about this, I'm sorry if I nag you, that is not my intention, I just love you so much and I want you to take care of yourself, bye." Y/N left the voicemail and went to the bedroom she shared with Walter and Walter and Angie were too busy undressing each other on their way to her bedroom to notice his phone vibrating on the kitchen counter.

Walter lied awake in bed, with Angie by his side, Angie was asleep, both were naked.

"What have I done?" Walter wondered out loud in a whisper. He tried to sleep but every time he closed his eyes, he just sees what happened with Angie.

It was 8 in the morning and Y/N did not have to go in for work. She went downstairs and Walter still wasn't back home. Meanwhile Walter was putting his clothes back on.

"This never should have happened." Walter stated, zipping up his pants.

"You think I'm thrilled we slept together? I'm married! I'm just happy he has a business trip in Boston." Angie said, putting on her bathrobe.

"Where is my phone?" Walter asked, looking throgh her bedroom.

"It's probably downstairs on the kitchen counter. Have a safe trip home, make up with Y/N, I'll see you when Faye comes back." Angie said. Walter went downstairs and turned on his phone. He saw a voicemail from Y/N. He played the voicemail and his eyes strated tearing up.

"I am such a wanker." Walter muttered. He walked out of the house and got into his truck to go back home. He saw Y/N’s car in the driveway. He spent a few mintues in his truck crying, thinking about how he should tell Y/N. Its worse if she finds out later so it is better to be truthful now. He got out of the car, walked into the house and saw Y/N making pancakes.

"Oso, you're back!" Y/N exclaimed, leaving the mixing bowl on the counter and walked over to him, pulling him into a hug. "Listen, I promise not to 'nag' you as much if you promise to take care of yourself. I am not trying to smother you, I just don't want you to burn yourself out, okay?" Y/N pulled away from the hug and saw that Walter's eyes were red. "Hey, whats wrong?" Y/N asked, she was about to wipe his tears when Walter took her hands in his and pushed them away.

"We need to talk." Walter said.

"Okay, can it wait?" Y/N asked.

"No, it can't." Walter said. Y/N looked at him, his face was serious. She nodded and took off her apron, followed Walter into the living room and sat on the couch. Walter had her hands in his. "Something happened when i left. But I'm letting you know now that it meant nothing and that I completely regret it."

"Walter, you're scaring me, what did you do?" Y/N asked, her voice breaking as her eyes became glassy.

"I drove to Angie's house. I need clarity, I just fought with you and I know i messed up really bad but I didn't know if it would have been the end. I asked Angie why we got divorced, I asked if it was the problem with our argument." Walter said, carefully looking at Y/N's reactions to his words. "She came to the conclusion that you and I are perfect for each other and that I should be more open to accepting your help, that I was pushing you away. We were reliving our good moments, we were eating drinking, and then we..." Walter was cut off by Y/N putting her hand up.

"You slept with your ex wife?" Y/N asked.

"Yes.” Walter admitted.

“You slept with your ex-wife after she told you that you and I were practically perfect for each other?” Y/N asked again.

“Yes.” Walter whispered. Y/N nodded and took her hands out of Walter’s, she walked to the kitchen and Walter trailed behind her. He observed how she picked up the mixing bowl and continued to mix the batter before turning on the stove and pouring the mix with a ladle onto the pan. “Say something, anything.” Walter said. Y/N remained silent until she finished making pancakes and the mixing bowl was empty.

“You wanna know what I did when you left me on our home? I cried because I had no idea where you were going. I was drinking wine and purposely watching movies that I know will make me cry because you were gone for hours and did send me a text to let me know you were alright. We never had a fight like this, Walter, Never, in our 5 years of dating. And the first thing you do is go to your ex-wife’s house? After you told me that Angie wasn’t as much as a bitch as I was? Do you see how messed up that is?” Y/N asked Walter with tears in her eyes.

“It didn’t mean anything, Y/N, I swear.” Walter said.

“Oh please Walter, you guys were married for what, 9 years? You loved each other, Walter. Maybe you still love each other, I don’t know. What I do know is that feelings were involved, Walter. It’s is different than sleeping with a random woman, which I would still be angry about by the way. You cheating on me with Angie is much worse than a random hookup.” Y/N explained, trying to hold on her tears.

“It was a mistake, Y/N, we were drunk.” Walter said.

“Oh, you were drunk, I guess that makes it better, then.” Y/N commented sarcastically. Me vale madre if you were drunk or not, we were still together.” Y/N said.

“I can make it better, please. I’m sorry I hurt you, I shouldn’t have left you, it was bad judgment on my part.” Walter said, he was going to wrap his arm around her when Y/N moved away.

“Now is not the time Walter.” Y/N said.

“What happened to Oso?” Walter asked.

“You lost that nickname the minute you slept with Angie. The worst part about ALL OF THIS is that you needed her to tell you that we were perfect for each other. You needed confirmation from another person, you couldn’t just take my word for it. You didn’t want me to smother you? Well congratulations, Walter, I won’t be here to smother you anymore.” Y/N said, walking upstairs, Walter following suit. He saw her pull out a suitcase, she was packing.

“No, please don’t leave me, we have to talk about this, please.” Walter said. Y/N looked up to see Walter’s eyes, his once bright blue eyes were now dull.

“Fine, you want to talk, let’s talk. How was your night with Angie?” Y/N asked.

“I don’t understand.” Walter said.

“Then let me help you understand. While I was home watching movies, you were fücking Angie in her house, how was she in bed? Is that clear enough?” Y/N asked kinda aggressively.

“I can’t answer that.” Walter stated.

“You’re the one who wanted to talk.” Y/N reminded him.

“It was different, you and I have always made love, Y/N. Angie was nothing compared to what we have.” Walter said. Y/N got closer to Walter.

“Had, Walter.” Y/N said, she finished packing her suitcase with her clothes, towels, and toiletries. She got the suitcase and started walking downstair, opening the front door, Walter trailed behind her. “You finally did it, Walter, you pushed me away, I hope you’re happy.” Y/N gave Walter his key back.

“What can I do to fix this? Fix us?” Walter asked.

“I just need time. I can’t sleep in the same bed with you or stay in the same house with you knowing that if we have another fight, you’d go to Angie, that you slept with Angie. The day I moved in, you promised me that you’d never hurt me and I believed you, guess we were both wrong.” Y/N said. She left and closed the door. Walter immediately broke down crying on the floor, he messed up big time.

Y/N entered her car and called one of her friends from the hospital.

“Hey Y/N, what’s up, how’s your weekend?” Her friend asked.

“Hey Blair, um, I was wondering if I can stay at your house for a few days or a few weeks.” Y/N said.

“Yeah, babe, stay with me as long as you need, okay? You sound like you’ve been through it. Go over to my house, I’ll call Seth and let him know, okay. Love you, bye." Blair hung up and Y/N but Blair's address on her phone and drove to her house. She saw Blair's husband, Seth, outside the house with the door open, along with two kids playing in the front yard with a cavalier king charles spaniel. Y/N parked her car in the driveway and got out.

"Y/N, its so nice to meet you, you need any help with your bag?" Seth asked.

"No, its fine, I got it." Y/N said. "How old are they?" Y/N asked Seth, entering the house.

"7 and 4. The dog is 2. We don't have the guest room set up so you will have to sleep on the couch tonight, is that alright?" Seth asked.

"Of course, I’m intruding. I will help with dinner and cleaning.” Y/N said.

“Sounds like a deal.” Seth said

Walter has been throwing himself into work since she left 4 days ago. Whenever there was an interrogation and the suspect would get testy, Walter took out all his anger on them. However, Commissioner Harper has had enough of Walter’s anger issues.

“Marshall, you can’t keep hulking out on the suspects/perps, we’ll get nowhere. Go home, you’re not coming back until you fix whatever problem you have going on.” Harper said. Walter huffed and walked out.

When he made it home and saw the picture of him and Y/N together, he decided it was time to get her back. He got in his truck, bought her favorite flowers, and went to the hospital she worked at. He got out of the truck and entered the hospital lobby.

“Hi, I’m Walter Marshall, I’m here to see Y/N L/N, she’s a nurse.” Walter said.

“Do you know what floor she’s working on?” The receptionist asked.

“Can’t you check?” Walter asked.

“She’s assigned to me 9th floor, here’s your visitor pass.” The receptionist said and Walter thanked her. He saw that a lot of people were waiting for the elevator so he decided to take the stairs. Luckily for him, this was light work compared to his SWAT training. He stopped at the 9th floor and walked to the nurse station.

“Hello, can I…oh it’s you.”

“Nice to see you too, Blair. Do you know where Y/N is?” Walter asked, lowkey out of breath,

“Why would I tell you? She’s devastated over his things ended.” Blair said.

“That’s why I’m here, to make things right. Where is she?” Walter asked again.

“She’s getting a translator from the supply closet.” Blair answered, pointing towards the door and Walter thanked her. He opened the door and saw Y/N in her light blue scrubs, her hair (down, braided, in a ponytail, up to you!), he closed the door and Y/N turned around.

“Walter, what are you doing here?” Y/N asked. Walter saw that Y/N had dark circles under her eyes, Y/N noticed the same thing about Walter. His hair was messier than usual.

“I came to win you back.” Walter says, handing Y/N the flowers.

“Flowers? You think you can fix everything with flowers?” Y/N said.

“No, but I think this might fix everything.” Walter said.

You better learn to grovel Get down on your knees Begging for forgiveness like "please, oh baby, please" I want all the tears streaming down your pretty face Telling me I'm someone that you can't replace I want you to grovel, grovel

Walter got down on his knees in front of Y/N, looking up at her like he was worshiping a goddess, on his mind he was.

“Please forgive, Y/N, you mean the whole world to me, these last few days have been utter torture, my house doesn’t feel like a home anymore, you brought light to my life, I am nothing without you.” Walter starts tearing up, voice breaking. “Please, baby, please forgive me, I made a terrible mistake, I admit that, you are someone that I can’t replace, no one, and I mean no one could replace you. You are so special to me, I am so lucky to have you, and I will worship the ground you walk on if you let me, please. I don’t know what I’ll do without you in my life.” When Walter was finished with his little speech, both of them were crying.

“Of course I forgive you, Oso. Now get up, the floor is filthy.” Y/N said, helping Walter up. Walter laughed lightly, getting up, and pulling Y/N into a kiss. She pulled away. “So I don’t have to worry about Angie?”

“Of course not, my love, I am in love with you, I dreamt about you since you left, I missed you. I will worship you everyday until I die, no one compares to you, I swear.” Walter said, kissing her once more.

“Thank you for the flowers. And thank you for coming all the way here to apologize, must’ve been hard with Blair being in the front today.” Y/N said, smelling the flowers.

“No it was not. Quick question, not that I’m ungrateful or anything, thank you for forgiving me, I don’t know what I would’ve done if you didn’t, but why did you?” Walter asked. Y/N pretended to think.

“Have I ever told you that I love when a man grovels and begs?” Y/N playfully asked and Walter laughed wholeheartedly.

“Good to know for the future. I’ll see you at home.” Walter kissed her goodbye, both of them walking out of the supply closet.

“See you at home.” Y/N said, still holding the flowers.

Walter walked back to his truck and got in. Smiling to himself, she’s coming back home, back to me

The End

Hope y’all liked it, was it too long? Was it good? I don’t know how to write couple fights, clearly. This took forever to write

Taglist: @warriormirkwood

[17020]

ᥫ᭡ CAMPUS CRUSH GALORE! THE TEACHING FARM.

# CRUSH 002 — KEISUKE BAJI, 26. VET STUDENT.

Keisuke Baji gets to work in a teaching farm along with his classmate in order to pass his clinical rotations. 1.3k fluff/crack, ooc! baji, soft! baji, this is absolute poopy im sorry. gn! yn. ending is a bit rushed sorry.

Clinical rotations were a pain in KEISUKE BAJI's ass.

Yes, his life-long dream was to become a veterinarian, and even though it had seemed out of reach at first, he was now one step closer to fulfilling it. The road to veterinary included clinical rotations, which is what Keisuke dreaded the most.

Although rotations prepared him for emergency situations, nine times out of ten Keisuke had found himself utterly exhausted and sleep deprived, and thanks to the team-based approach rotations had, the hot-headed male found himself drowsily provoked by some of his classmates' stupidity.

Keisuke knew clinical care would come in handy, as his friends Chifuyu and Kazutora had already graduated veterinary school, with Chifuyu offering both him and Kazutora a job at his new pet shop, Peke-J Land.

Nonetheless, the raven-haired male was prone to picking fights as hunger, sleep, and a shit ton of information to memorize plagued his mind all at once. The deprivation of sleep and his constant nagging behavior had set him back, marking his rotations as failed.

Keisuke Baji was not surprised when he got called into the counselor's office. Again.

It was no secret to the university's academic faculty that Keisuke could be a... handful. When he sat down in front of the counselor, he was served a tremendous stack of white papers, with check boxes marked and signatures at the bottom.

Reports. Each and every one was about him.

"We understand how stressful clinical rotations can be, as well as the toll they can take on one's health, Baji, but your classmates—even the teaching faculty, they find themselves..."

"Find themselves what?"

"...they're walking on eggshells, Baji. Look, your behavior has made you fail clinical rotations, and our policy states that if a student was to fail, they would have to undergo remediation. So, for the meantime, you'll be assigned to a new, more calm rotation as remedial."

Which is why Keisuke Baji found himself standing in a barn, waiting to be assigned a partner.

A part of him understood that remedial was, to some degree, necessary. Yes, he had tried his best to be studious, yet his behavior ended up costing him his rotations approval. Keisuke was grateful that university had granted him more independence, as the news of his remediation classes would never reach his mother unless he himself were to speak to her about it. Though, the people he did have to tell, were his friends, as he had to explain why he would not be joining the pet shop during vacations.

When the news reached Peke-J Land, Keisuke's phone flooded with messages, ranging from jokes, to good luck wishes, even to bets, as Chifuyu and Kazutora were sure that this would be the first time in which their friend would finally be put in his place.

A few minutes after he arrived, Keisuke felt a tap on his shoulder, and as he turned around, he was met with the most gorgeous pair of eyes he had ever seen. Standing in front of him was an alluring figure, which had put every other person he had caught a glimpse of from his friends' magazines to absolute shame.

"Excuse me, are you Keisuke Baji?"

"Who's asking?"

"I'm Yn Ln, and we got partnered up for this week's rotation."

"Nice to meet ya."

Keisuke had found himself quieter than usual, speaking only what he deemed as mandatory. For someone who could be quite rowdy and filled with adrenaline, he was more zen than ever. Because he was determined to not fail rotations again, and set his dream of being a vet even further. Besides, he had a good night's sleep, as well as some good old peyoung yakisoba as breakfast. The fact that the person in front of him had caught his eye and their presence basically coerced him into being on his best behavior had nothing to do with that. Yup. Nothing. Nothing at all.

Into the barn stepped one of the farmers, along with a small calf. It looked as if it was only a few weeks old, with its fluffy, white fur being covered with caramel spots. It let out a soft moo as it followed suit behind the farmer.

"Her name is Daisy, and she's ready for feeding" the farmer explained, leaning down and petting the calf, "the feeding bottle is at the table in the back. You take good care of'er, will you?"

You nodded and offered the farmer a smile, and as he stepped out of the farm, the calf raced in an attempt to gallop outside of her barn. She was successful, until a small dip in the grass had caused her to trip and fall.

"Shit!"

"Baji! Run!"

You and him sped towards the calf, which was now crying in pain. Keisuke had reached her first, with him scooping the calf into his arms and carrying her back to the barn. Your cheeks flushed, as the image of your (very cute) classmate with Daisy was to be carved into your memory forever.

"It's so nice of you to carry Daisy, Baji! You want me to carry her with you? Calves can be a bit on the heavy side, you know..."

"I got it" he grinned, "I could carry two Daisy's if I wanted to."

No, he could not. That was a complete lie. Even though his hobby was muscle training, Keisuke was on the verge of accepting your offer, but the laugh that escaped your lips as you trotted towards the barn made it totally worth it. You approached the table, picking up the feeding bottle filled with milk and waiting for Keisuke.

He stepped into the barn, carefully laying Daisy on the ground. Keisuke kneeled next to her, snaking his arms around the calf's neck, seemingly embracing her.

"I'll hold her so she won't run away while you feed her."

You smiled, thanking him as you kneeled with the bottle in hand, driving it towards the calf's snout. Daisy happily suckled on the bottle, with you and Keisuke staring in awe. Unbeknownst to you, Keisuke's focus had shifted, with his eyes now admiring you.

"So, how come you're here at the farm?" he questioned.

"I was told to come help some students that had remedial!"

"Oh."

"How come you're here, Baji?"

"...remedial. But this time I'll pass, I swear!" he replied, ears red from embarrassment as he tried to defend himself. You giggled as he subconsciously hugged Daisy even tighter. "If you're with me, then you're sure to pass" you winked.

"Is that a promise?" he smirked.

"It's a threat" you smiled, "I've helped many of my classmates before, and nobody has failed. If you fail I will personally raise Daisy so she can push you to the ground."

The man in front of you let out a heartfelt laugh as he pulled away from Daisy and stood up, offering you a hand. You grabbed his hand and stood up, seeing as the calf had finished her milk. All of a sudden, a sound was heard.

Plop!

Keisuke had felt a sudden weight added to the top of his shoe, and a pungent smell had reached both his and your nose.

"She..."

"Baji, this is totally normal in veterinary, okay?"

"She... she..."

"She's just a few weeks old!"

"She shit on my shoe."

"Yes, Baji. It seems like poor Daisy couldn't wait until she reached the freestalls—"

"Daisy took a fucking shit on my shoe."

You stifled a laugh as Keisuke let out an exhausted sigh, burying his face in his hands as his whole face was beet red.

"Look, if she pooped then that means she's ready for nap time. There's a convenience store nearby, I can buy us some ice pops while she naps if you want!"

"And be reminded of the damn log she just left on my shoe???"

"Oh."

"I'd be down for yakisoba, though."

"Great! Shall we, then?"

He nodded, "let's go, pretty."