#this au needs…. an easier name to refer to….

[lambcultist]

　　　　𝐒𝐊𝐈𝐍. 𝐸.𝒲.

𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 — ‧₊˚ ⋅ part one here ! ellie must learn to be okay with what terrifies her as you begin to fight the invasion of your respiratory system. she's going to light a fire for you, no matter how much it burns her skin, as she is determined not to be the reason you go cold.

𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 — ‧₊˚ ⋅ MINORS DNI ( 18+ ) modern au. brother's best friend!ellie williams x fem!reader. ellie has haphephobia (fear of touch). reader has... something (hanahaki disease). reader also has anxiety and insecurities. angst. disaster lesbians. vivid descriptions of: hospitals, ptsd, foster system + past child abuse, poor mental health, panic attacks + fear, terminal illness + symptoms of nausea, vomiting, coughing, needles, medications (morphine) — gross/graphic descriptions, warning for squeamish readers. hurt / comfort. reader is 19, ellie is 21.

𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄 — ‧₊˚ ⋅ this part includes discussion of ellie's backstory, involving child abuse and neglect as well as the foster system. she suffers ptsd and this is where her haphephobia originated from—i've tried to portray this with respect and realism. there is no vivid description of these events but heavy mentions/references to it. just a trigger warning! i love this little fic so much. i don't know what to call this? a mini mini-series? a duology? anyway— sorry this part took so long. thank you for reading, i love you. and ellie. aaaaaaaaa.

　　　　m.list　wc — 7k.　mdni, please ♡

a constant itch irritating your arm, a monotonous beeping that grates your ears, a soulless room. it's gloomy, the only light granted by an overcast sky through the window.

you're waiting for a different kind of natural light. waiting, and waiting, and waiting, and it's taking its sweet time.

this is supposed to be comfortable. this was intended to be a comfortable few days. end of life care.

it's been one month. there's nothing comfortable about this.

morphine flows through your veins, it masks the aches only for a little. you barely notice how your breath stutters and shakes anymore, it's easier with the aid of the drug, but you're just not sure that it's better than being at home, conscious of every impairment.

you try not to look at the iv as much as it begs your attention. it will only make you feel sick.

the clock ticks away every second until dark. every hour blends into one another, each nurse flowing through the room seeming like they are simply the same words in a different font. you think you remember receiving another dose of morphine, but it doesn't feel like it.

your phone screen lights your face as you check the time. ten.

your eyes close and you think of her. it isn't like it used to be. it's not that you wonder what she is doing or if she is thinking of you. it's that she promised a visit soon.

if you get through this night, you'll be able to see her sooner.

you own a stuffed animal named hope. you couldn't touch the poor thing as your descent into ill-health turned dangerously fast. you'd look at the bear and think about how ridiculous the name is.

you've clung to hope for years and it's as if reality has slapped you in the face for it; a punishment for your wistfulness, served in rose scented bile.

hope was futile.

but now, it doesn't feel that way; ellie made progress.

so, hope sits in your lap day in and day out. she shares this gurney with you, and you squeeze and play and fidget with her. a piece of home, youth, and a reminder to fight what once seemed like a losing battle.

another hour passes. turning over and lying on your side takes the breath out of you for a moment, a hoarse gasp following after the action. it is never this hard, usually.

you squeeze onto hope. those browned curls warm your chest, the fluff soft on your fingertips, but you don't feel any less alone.

being a special case sucks.

they needed to give you a room away from other patients. from the moment you were wheeled into the emergency room you were treated like a risk. some people have allergies, you know. it made you bitter. your flowers are something beautiful.

you may be overly attached to something that harms you more than it does care for you. but ellie gave you these flowers. she's turned you into a walking perfume. maybe if those people knew who she was, they'd understand rather than turn up a nose and cringe at the scent.

sebastian sees you for a few minutes each day. he wears a mask—he told you the smell of florals puts him in a bad mood these days. he answers the phone slower these days.

your mother has been busy with work.

something tells you that's bullshit.

the nurses lack in personality. they're all bubbly and kind and at first, they seemed to look over you with pity. now, they seem eager to get your bed empty and ready for the next unfortunate patient.

are they getting careless? with time racing toward you until you meet your fate, perhaps they think it wiser to save resources? something about the dose you received earlier just wasn't right. it's not supposed to wear off this fast, right?

you're not supposed to be feeling like this anymore. that flicker of hurt inside your ribcage every time you take in a breath is back. the embrace of silence isn't supposed to be this goddamn loud. your ears ring as you glance around the dark room, something eerie in the way that cars and sirens yell and screech in the city outside.

the symphony of chaos out there is overarching at this point, you cannot even hear your pulse. but you can feel your feet tapping against the end of the bed like a metronome out of time.

you search your brain for lyrics that make sense and nothing of the sort erupts. it's all blurred—it's all panic. i don't wanna be alone anymore. you just want out, every thought pointing towards the door. if you had the strength to rip off all these needles and wires and march out there, take your life back, you might've done it already.

you tenderly brush a petal from the top of hope's head after coughing, reaching towards the side table for your phone. however late it may be now doesn't matter, you need noise; something that won't make you feel so small.

ellie put together a pretty good playlist for you. that'll do.

you underestimate the effort it requires to get your phone at this very moment, an audible whine leaving your lips as you stutter and struggle for breath. it pulls something. some neglected muscle in your back lashes out and you draw back into the bed.

hope tumbles out of your hold and onto the floor.

so you're not even allowed the solace of material comfort today, huh?

you have a hundred 'last straw's every day. this was the last of the last. you're in pain.

her fingers move along the fretboard with a practised passion, the joints tired out after hours of rehearsal and perfecting. sometimes ellie writes, but nights like these, she remembers why she doesn't do it often.

it doesn't come right the first time around. not ever.

she stops and watches the window. the sky is a blank canvas tonight, no stars nor flashing lights, just blackness and fog. her eyes follow the usual path around her room, twinkling string lights and old polaroids on the wall. those ones were her first happier memories.

ellie sighs, her fingers resorting to picking a random, comfortable pattern on the strings of her guitar as she stares down at the words scrawled into her journal. the acoustic rests in her lap and the pen hooked into the strap of her top.

she decides it's time to quit for the night. rearranging this bridge a fourteenth time is fruitless, because still, nothing could describe the feeling she had when she finally had the courage to hold your hand.

and still, nothing can describe how pathetic she feels for being afraid to do it again.

ellie liked it. she really, truly did. she cradled your hand with the same gentleness present in the way she holds the neck of her guitar. she took care and warmed every bone in your fingers, rubbed her thumb across the back of your palm to help you breathe.

she wasn't only doing something good for herself, but for you—she was admitting to you her blindness. she was taking the first step in the right direction.

now, ellie can't seem to replicate the same bravery she walked into your bedroom with. she's just a coward.

the first step is supposed to be the hardest—why did it feel so easy?

why doesn't anything feel as easy since?

she lets out a sigh, deep and slow, rubbing her face and moving her guitar to the bed. she's closing the blinds when her phone begins to vibrate and she squints a bit, fishing through her pockets. probably some scammer, she doesn't have anyone to call her these days—

okay, definitely not a scammer.

it's you.

answering feels just as easy as holding your hand felt. maybe it's the spontaneity. she doesn't have a chance to think about it, really. all ellie knows is that it's past midnight and you've called her.

no hello, no joking around—none of that, simply her voice rushing to beat yours. 

"are you okay? it's late."

"ellie, i just wanna hear your voice." nothing could prepare ellie for the way your voice sounds. she's never felt such a strong punch to the gut, but your voice—wavering and weak, quite clearly in the throes of tears—it has the impact of a hard fist. "please. i'm scared."

and she softens quickly, holding her breath so that she can hear all of you. how your own breath hitches, your tone runs pitchy around the edges, you sniffle. she can picture you in a hospital bed with teary eyes, and fuck. it's not right.

"i'm here." ellie sits at the edge of her bed, lip drawing between her teeth. she won't draw attention to your cries. it's not what you need.

"everything hurts," you say through a gasp. there's no need for convincing, ellie believes you from just the sound of your pain alone. there's a familiarity in the heartache, it's something ellie knows too, now.

"i'm here," she repeats. she feels so stupidly capable right now, her shoulder pressing the phone to her ear as she holds her hands together, rubbing the skin so gently as though it is your softness she caresses. she's losing herself to the thought of what she thinks she'd do in your presence at this moment. "i'm always here, don't panic. do you need me to be here when you go to sleep?"

without hesitance, you respond. "yes." and something of it makes ellie feel as though she's neglected you. she needs to hear your voice now, and not just muted by the peaking and crackling static of a call; she needs to be at your bedside. 

and there's no questioning that you need it too. she doesn't need to see you to know what you need. you need to see her courage once more.

"okay, baby— i—" she buries her face into her hand and suppresses a groan, rubbing out her temple. vulnerability is clawing its way out of her throat and yet, something in her still tries to stop it before it becomes too much. calling you that, ugh… it felt like second nature. "okay, i'm gonna stay on the line."

"everything hurts, it's too much," you say. you tried to speak, anyway—it comes out in a whisper, as though that's all you can manage. "can't breathe."

"i need you to try," ellie encourages. "but just slowly. think, maybe it hurts because you need to slow down, yeah?"

slow or fast, light or deep, breathing feels as though it's twisting each thorn, piercing your heart and your lungs. ellie may be right. maybe, it's your fear that does it. after all, these flowers have what seems to be their own intuition, and they prey on your anxiety.

and ellie's just as lost, trying to talk you down—god, if she could hold you right now…

you hear your name and it startles you to attention once more. "just need you to make it through this night, okay?" she asks. "if you get some sleep, yeah, i'll come hang out with you tomorrow?"

"yes, yeah," you reply shortly, sniffling. "please."

it's quieter after that. ellie coaxes you into silence, she promises you there will be warmth tomorrow. whatever that means, it brings you the slightest hope once more.

going through the motions of the morning was difficult for ellie. 

the shower burnt her skin red and raw yet she swore the water was lukewarm, her breakfast took its time going down, and when she sat in her car and turned the heater on, the air leaving the vents felt icy. she had not the patience for anything, her mind askance.

more like, she was waging war with herself—i got this. i'm gonna march into that room and take back what i lost. of course, the situation is not 'all or nothing', even if that's how she treats it. there are baby steps necessary for her recovery, but she'd rather not give herself flowers for those. and ellie's well aware that she's setting herself up for disappointment by rejecting the small wins. it's like trying to knock down a stone wall with a wrecking ball made of cardboard. it doesn't work.

she just wants to be normal; she just wants to be what you need.

and walking into that gloomy room, scanning every wire hooked up to your body, and, frankly, her ears assaulted by all kinds of beeping, it raises her hackles. hospitals are quiet, until they're not. they're all hushed voices and whispered reassurances, only for that to be combated by monitors and machines ellie has no idea the purpose of. they feel malicious.

"hey." 

the word startles you. but ellie sees nothing but relief in the softness of your gaze.

"hi."

ellie takes a seat, and she feels like she's accidentally just glued herself to this spot— it's something she'd liken to a duty of care. like she can't leave. "so, you're feeling better after last night? i wish i could've done more, you know, but…"

"the nurse gave me a lighter dose by mistake," you reply. "that's why i was in so much pain." your voice sounds more distant, more uncaring of what words come out—your eyes run ovals around her. it's as if you can barely believe she's sitting here. it's the fairest sight you've had since your last day at home, and you thank heavens she's not changed. every freckle is where you last pictured it, the corners of her lips curl up with awkward hesitance, that one strand of hair that never sat with the rest is still antagonising her.

her hands are bare. no gloves.

"shit, for real? that's fuckin'..." ellie trails off, replacing what would have been a protective rant with a simple sigh.

she doesn't like this. nobody does, seeing you weak and scared, perishing in the coldest place imaginable. but that doesn't make it fair to avoid you.

it doesn't make her want to be here any less. ellie's almost shocked by herself when her eyes lay upon your hand and she feels this absurd, unconscious jolt in her own hand with the instinct to reach out.

"how's your mom? and seb..?" she asks, her eyes set on your hands as much as yours are on hers.

"uh… next question?" you murmur, flashing a lopsided grin.

"oh." ellie blinks, and again, she feels that tightening in her wrist, this urge she's barely able to restrain. "you haven't seen them?"

"not for a few weeks," you say, shaking your head. "they're really busy lately." 

ellie can tell you believe that excuse as much as she does. and what does it make her feel? it's unusual for her. it targets something tucked away inside of her, blanketed by confusion and tears; the inner child.

she finds herself wanting to whine. that's not fair. 

"that's— but they're— you're their baby. they can't make some time?"

you brush it off with a croaky voice, taking the cup of water at your bedside and having a small sip. "i'm not sure. it's fine though."

her eyes flick from your hands to your lips, the skin no longer as soft as it used to be, instead dry. it reminds her of that post-crying feeling, and even worse is the barely restrained hurt in your eyes that she catches. 

ellie knows it isn't fine. it isn't fair. she's been lonely. she's been the black sheep in every herd she was passed between, she's been the skeleton hidden in tiny closets. she was young, and innocent, and so easily forgotten. passed from family to family, no stay intended to be permanent, she suffered—she was deprived of attention.

it was always the warmer families that couldn't keep her, and the colder ones that she had to endure for longer. she was replaced, she was ignored, she was neglected, so long that touch soon felt like a foreign luxury. 

and soon, it became not a luxury, but something to fear. for a while the only touch ellie felt would be a push or shove on the playground, and of course, she'd push back and scoff (and perhaps use some language too vulgar for her age). it became something to cry over when she'd leave detention and whomever she was under the care of would be waiting for her. arriving to an address that was not hers, different homes that never felt like home, where human mistakes left bruises on her body.

touch became something worth flinching over. she learned to see kicks and punches coming before they left their impact.

and now that it's all over, ellie never unlearned that.

inside, there's still a little girl who aches for love. it stung, but she craved it. and to ellie, looking at you, withering and wilting by the lack of her affections, it feels like looking at that little girl.

so she feels that she is being pulled, suddenly, the legs of her chair screeching across the floor so she may sit as close as possible. it's no conscious effort, just her limbs working in tandem with what her heart needs at this moment.

ellie reaches, and then pauses, breathing in through her nose. "can i—?"

your lips work into a small, but reassuring smile, pursed tight to contain excitement. you don't want to be overwhelming, or intimidating, or too desperate, or whatever else—doesn't matter if your entire predicament is the overwhelming result of a desperate yearning, you tense like a statue just in case. "of course."

from their frozen position in the air, her hands finally move. you weren't sure where she was going for, but ellie has been telling herself this is what she would do to ever since the last time she saw you. 

she cups your face, palms meeting your cheeks slowly, as though she holds a piece of her very soul in her hands.

your two sets of slow breathing mingle in the silence of the room, and for seconds ellie just holds your face. then, her thumbs caress the high points; they run along your cheekbones, her callouses press into the curve of your jawline, as though mapping out every depth or crevice in your face. analysing the structure, appreciating the curves and the softness, not only with her skin, but her eyes. it feels like she can see through you, and it's not even an invasive feeling. in fact, it's not been this easy for you to breathe in a long time.

ellie thinks of her half-written poetry from last night. her mind is fresh with ideas, the passion reborn. she's realising it now, that unless she turns this into a habit, she won't be able to remember how it feels to touch your skin. she'll be back tomorrow, or maybe she won't even leave. it would be alright to hold your hand as you sleep.

your cheeks, once lifelessly icy, now warmed by ellie, rest in the palm of her hands like they are a bed. her face is rose-flushed, but more calm than earlier. inside, there's fire spreading from heart to hands. it doesn't burn like she thought it would. sure, the initial connection was scorching, but now it's comfortable, healing.

something beautiful happened. you would describe ellie's touch like some kind of healing power, in fact, so might she, in a different way; things that used to feel impossible for the both of you are quite easier.

you can breathe on your own, without medical interference—no drugs, no machines. your voice is clearer, food stays down, you can stay awake. ellie wasn't aware of it herself until you stood for the first time in weeks. it was like she had seen a ghost rise from the grave.

of course, it wasn't like you'd taken any miracle cure. you were frail and failing to maintain your balance. it was okay, though, because ellie darted over to catch you. she walked you to the café downstairs.

she could see herself quickly becoming nothing short of an addict to the feeling of your skin beneath her fingertips. when once she was uncomfortable by the feeling of another's shirt, she now feels like it isn't enough to dig her fingers into your pyjamas.

doctors who were certain you were perishing before were now bemused. tests and scans were ordered.

not only was there a clearer picture and tidier result, but the specialists found that what little was left of your flowers were charred. it aligned with what nurses had been reporting as well—a higher body temperature, and black, dried petals leaving your system. 

the hanahaki was dying, and you were blossoming. eyes brighter and face rounder, fuller, softer.

you could go home.

and it could've been better—perhaps it would've felt nicer if your room had been cleaned before you got home, and if things weren't so awkward between you and your family—you can't help looking with bitter eyes at them for how they had acted. it was like you were disposable. 

but getting to see ellie for the first time since you got home makes up for it all. strategically planned so that your mother and sebastian won't be around, of course.

you open the door before she can knock. it's like the tables have turned, and ellie is the one who struggles to breathe when you're near, looking so alive and so comfortable like this, with a smile on your face that knocks the wind out of her lungs, and a recovered lust for life. 

"hi," you say with a small nod, and you inch closer almost hesitantly, which she notices, of course. to save you the trouble of asking for it, she wraps her arms around your middle and holds you. 

but you don't miss the hitch in her breath. still, every time you touch, she stiffens or holds her breath. what would you take it for, if not discomfort? this time, though, when you try to pull away, ellie snorts a little and tightens her grip, nosing into your neck.

"you're fine, baby."

the look on her face when she pulls away is reverent and somewhat sheepish, the corner of her lips curled up and eyelids heavy. if there's one thing ellie hates about this, it's the process. why can't she snap her fingers and be rid of the side effects of her past? why must she sit through all of the messy feelings, the awkwardness, the way that touch still makes her skin blister even when she likes it?

and how, still, are you so patient with her?

"listen, so, uh… i wasn't sure if you ever wanna see another damn flower again, but, i figured you deserve something nice, right?" ellie pushes the single tulip forward, shrugging one shoulder. "s'not a rose, at least. think you might hate them now. that would be reasonable, yeah.."

you nod, that same grin on your face as always, plucking the flower from her grip. "this is okay. but— can i have another hug..? just one more?"

"oh—" ellie's throat tightens, arms opening before her mouth. "sweet girl, you don't even need to ask. c'mere."

this time, you sink into her. it's like being doused in fire, her body warming yours on the way to the car, all because she couldn't bring herself to let go. and that brings another one of those half smiles to her face that she always tries to hide. a hint of pride. progress.

she thinks about resting a hand over your thigh on the drive—it would be even better progress, but something makes her hesitate. something of a debate takes place in her mind before she finally does it, and once more, she feels that sense of pride. the pride of each move forward burns every doubt as though they're pages in an old diary.

plus, ellie truly enjoys the way your leg tenses beneath her hand and how you're quick to gaze out the window with the hint of a smile on your lips.

the drive is empty of conversation, the space filled by the stereo, and it should be that everything about this is already familiar to you. the route, the person, the intention. you're heading to the park, but this time you sit in the passenger seat, you actually trust that the driver will keep you safe (you'd never tell your brother this, but ellie is a far calmer driver than him), and your stomach isn't tying itself into knots. your breathing isn't stifled by stems and thorns and petals.

sometimes you still struggle with chasing for her touch now you've had your samples of it, but it battles with the need to make her comfortable. and so, you grip onto her sleeve as you walk to the old ice cream van stationed in its typical spot. your fingers cling to the fabric, pulling it taut, in the hopes that it won't hurt her, but soothe your need. 

"cookies and cream?" ellie asks, glancing down. your heart lurches when she starts pulling her arm back, only to replace her sleeve with her hand.

you search her for fear from the corner of your eye, but there's no wide eyes or bitten lips. "uh, yeah. i miss it."

"i'll have it too," she says, giving you a fond grin. "you don't know how much of the stuff i've been pigging out on these past few months. it makes me think of you."

you let out an involuntary giggle, squeezing her hand. "i extended my comfort food to you?"

"pretty much, yeah." ellie nods. "i started gorging myself the second i got kicked out of your house."

"well, i'll take that as though you were doing so in my honour," you reply, a cheesy grin on your face. "i missed having an appetite."

soon enough, with a cone in each of your hands, you sit beside ellie on a bench and share a comfortable silence. birds sing in the distance, trees shielding you from the summer fever.

ellie is so unusually quiet that it's powerful, and you turn your head towards her at the very moment that she is, apparently, leaning closer, and the sudden contact makes her jump back this time—something about the unpredictability of it frightened her.

"jesus, you almost killed me."

"oh—! sorry. payback, i guess, because you almost k—"

once ellie closes her mouth (that comment rattled her a bit too hard), she gives you a light pinch on the arm. "don't say that kinda stuff, that's morbid as fuck. i didn't try to—"

"sorry," you repeat, laughing softly. "it's a little bit funny though."

"it's not funny." ellie's words are betrayed by her own chuckle, however. "that's a sore spot still."

"alright, i won't say that again. you have my word." you give ellie a tiny salute, then nod your head to the ice cream sitting idle in her hand. she's barely touched it, if at all. "are you okay? just.. thinking a lot?"

ellie glances down at her hand, a stream of melted ice cream dripping down her skin. "uh… yeah. just…"

she takes a pause, eyes flitting back to you, landing on your lips. she realises she must look like a deer in the headlights, and forces herself to look away with a halfhearted shrug of her shoulders.

"i'm just happy we're here."

why can't i just kiss her? ellie wracks her brain on the way home, so distracted she's driving on autopilot. the world passes by in blurs of colour, her heavy huffs of breath the only sound in the car. the scent of your perfume still lingers in your wake, and when she's idling at a red light, ellie looks over to the empty passenger seat. the sight of a little black petal clinging to the seat makes her smile, but it doesn't reach her eyes.

it's like you leave a little trail, the occasional remains of scorched flowers following you wherever you've been. maybe she'll pop this one into her journal tonight.

ellie takes the long way home. it's filled with deep sighs and her white-knuckling the steering wheel, her inner monologue rather unhelpful. if only she could explain why she halts right on the edge every time she is about to meet a goal.

she tries. she really thought she could do it today. she felt so ready to grasp your chin and press a little kiss on your smile, but she faltered at the last second, when you turned and caught her staring. fucking faltering. she always does it.why am i so fucking scared? she grits her teeth, willing herself not to pull over when tears start to pool. she's nearly home, anyway. yeah, she narrowly avoided death trying to merge with blurry vision and some asshole in her blind spot. but she just wants to be home.

it's like drowning in shallow waters; she should be fine, but something is holding her hostage. something keeps her holding her breath, something's weighing so heavy on her that she can't pull herself out. there's always something ugly working behind the scenes to keep her from living. whether she's conscious of it or not, there's a memory or an instinct that rears its head. nightmares, flinches, even a small gasp—it's as if her body remembers it more than her mind.

a hand near her head, it makes her think her hair will be yanked.

a movement too sudden, it makes her want to brace for impact, only for it to be the gentlest embrace.

ellie hates it. she hates the way you pull back with a crease worrying your brows and that cloying tone of voice ringing in her ears, the apologies and the check-ins. because she loves the touch. it felt so freeing to admit such a thing for the first time. ellie loves to touch you, but she's so scared, still, and what's worse is that pit of guilt that forms in her stomach every time she fails.

she needs this—to no longer be so alone, and to take up space, and to touch. for the little girl she once was, who was not given the grace to do those things. 

if healing was measurable, that would make this simpler. but it's easy to get lost in the wishes and the goals. it's not so easy to think about the journey it takes to meet those goals.

"ellie? ellie. did you mean to call? or did you butt dial?"

"no…" ellie murmurs. she holds her phone against her ear and closes her eyes. she definitely made somewhat of a spectacle by calling and saying absolutely nothing in return when you answered. "i wanted to call. just… want you to talk to me."

"oh… okay," you reply. she can hear the pleasant surprise in your voice, that and something like fondness. "that's kinda cute, els. you dropped me off two hours ago."

"yeah, i, uh— i miss you." the phone doesn't catch her sniffling, but it carries the shaking current in her words. "can you start talking my ear off now?"

"what— well, yes, but what's wrong?" 

"nothing, what do you mean?"

"come on, ellie," you groan, and she can picture you pinching the bridge of your nose like you always do when she's said something silly. but really, it's far from that. you're pushing your phone up to your ear and spamming the volume button so that you can hear her over the sound of your own increasing heartbeat, fidgeting with the bottom of your shirt. "you're being all standoffish and stuff. like you've got something you need to get off your chest."

"uh… no." she clears her throat quite roughly, her free hand swiping at her eyes. "i just wanna hear your voice."

you know you shouldn't push. ellie will come to you when she's ready, like she always does, but this gnaws at you. it's hard to find a new topic when your brain drifts into all the possible explanations for ellie's hurt.

you never want to be the reason she's hurting. and if you are? what if you are? if you pushed boundaries today, or if you're just moving too fast? 

"okay, well, i miss you too," you begin. "i really like it when we hug. it's so warm and, like, comforting."

"i like it too," she says slowly. "you left a lil petal in my car."

"oh, right, that was probably from that coughing fit i had," you muse. "it really hurt, actually."

"you were very loud about that."

"how am i supposed to be quiet about choking?" you snort, but the moment is short lived. you're getting to the bottom of this. "can you please tell me what's wrong? we don't even have to dwell on it. just let me know."

"ah, it's just…" she lets out a flustered sigh, then starts to mumble. "just feeling generally shitty. that's all. i'm stressed. it's nothing you need to be worrying about."

"it's you, els, i do need to worry about it." you choose your words carefully but they flow easily. loving ellie has never required effort. you've spent years waiting for her to see it, and now it's the easiest it's ever been to show her. "i care. and i will always be here. i'm never going to vanish. i think i've made it very fucking clear i don't plan on doing that. i'm stubborn."

"yeah…" ellie swallows thickly and rests her chin in the palm of her hand, eyeing her lonely bedroom. "it's guilt. for… i dunno… just…"

you let ellie fall into silence. she's gathering the words to explain herself with—at least, you hope she is—and that is something you do not want to be pushy with.

"i hate how long this is taking," she says finally. "i want it. i'm ready for it. but my mind is just— it's like it's on a completely different track. i love you. but i'm so pathetic. i've made you wait so long."

"this isn't about me," you say. "i waited for you because i wanted to, and i'll wait as long as it takes. actually, i'm really impressed by you. you're making progress."

"but it's not fair. i hate that you have to be cautious. i wish— i mean, i wish i was normal. i wish i could snap out of it."

you stop her before she spirals further into a self deprecating rant, hushing her very gently. "you are normal. you're learning how to react to things that happened to you that should have never happened. and you're taking huge steps towards healing. and i am so proud of you. i really am."

"i'm scared, but it's not even about touch anymore," ellie murmurs, this time her sniffles sounding clear down the line. "i don't want to be too much. i don't want you to leave."

"i'm never leaving," you reply, voice softening like a blanket. "i love you, ellie. you couldn't get rid of me even if you tried."

by all means, you should be dead right now. you were knee deep in the grave when ellie came back and she battled her way into pulling you out. brute force and fear and love combined had made a new version of ellie, one who was determined to walk you out of that hospital.

"i just… can't.. accept myself," ellie says.

"you can't accept the journey," you correct, "look at the bigger picture, els. you are able to live life now in a way you could never have imagined one year ago. i haven't seen you wearing gloves in a while. that's incredible."

"i figured they were holding me back," she mumbles sheepishly. "i try not to wear them unless i really have to."

"see? that's amazing." you smile. "when i think about the past year, i think about all the milestones. i think about the first time we held hands, then when you traced my face, then when you sat in the hospital bed with me. i think you forget that this is a process and that you're gonna struggle with it sometimes, but that's just realistic. you can't make any progress at all if you won't allow yourself to fail."

"yeah," ellie whispers. she's resorted to fiddling with the little black petal she took home, her heart swelling as she listens to your voice. the calm of it all, the patience that never dies. she blinks back tears, and then speaks up. "thanks baby."

"do you feel a little bit less like the entire world is about to crush you into tiny pieces?"

"yes." ellie lets out a halfhearted laugh, smiling. "can you please start yapping about random shit now?"

"ugh, alright. you're gonna make me lose my voice again. actually, that might be a good thing. then i won't be so annoying."

ellie lets you continue without interruption. she holds that petal up to her chest, balled into her fist, and mulls over the conversation.

she's got to keep trying.

burnt flowers became few and far between, your coughing spells less frequent than ever. ellie noticed this before you did, and it was the biggest encouragement to her conquering her fears. she was healing, finally, and so were you—all because of her. 

life has this sense of normalcy now. she doesn't bristle at the feeling of a stranger passing by, she goes without her gloves more often. she gets less stares in public. ellie can see her old best friend without him looking as though she did something bad anymore; she just isn't alone.

she can wake from terrors in the middle of the night and no longer does she have to face them alone, crying in the dark and curling into balls. you're there to bring her back down when fear shoots up her spine. you, and hope—the teddy bear, that is, but the figurative idea as well. the unwavering patience, the trust, the optimism. 

ellie can hold your hand. she can hold you. she can snuggle and play with your hair, and she likes hers to be touched too. she can feel herself never wanting to let go of you. things she only ever heard of in tales of romance and vows, that she never thought she'd get to have. things she didn't think she even deserved. 

she thought she'd die alone, and now she's drawing pictures of you in her journal and scribbling promises beneath them; forever, sweet girl.

"this is a lot of touching and not a lot of drawing," you say, laughing softly at her distraction. you don't mind one bit, of course.

when you were in hospital, and ellie had caressed every inch of surface on your face, she had tried to take it all into her memory. now, she makes a habit of it, and insists it makes it easier to draw. you think she's simply sheepish about how much she enjoys it after all these years of avoidance.

"then don't be so pretty," ellie murmurs, swiping her thumb over your lashes. your eyes flutter and she catches her lip between her teeth, stifling a sigh.

there is one goal she hasn't met yet. 

still, she hasn't kissed you. 

she comes so close and every time something stops her. at first it was her own reluctance, now, it's like life won't give her the chance. last time she tried, it felt like there was some divine being fucking with her—the sky started pouring over the both of you as soon as the moment stood still enough for her to lean in.

this time, ellie's going to seize the moment. it starts with the light urge to kiss every individual lash, then your browbone, then of course, her eyes flick to your lips as though it's instinct.

she wonders if you think she's going to chicken out again, but you're none the wiser to her intentions in the first place right now. she thinks she's putting signals out with her eyes so heavy on yours, but she hasn't seen what you see. she hasn't seen the way she looks at you on a daily basis—this is no different; her eyes are practically hearts. you feel her gazing upon your every move, never to judge, but instead to possess.

her thumb now moves to your lower lip, shaky but sure as she gently parts your smile. and your lips, no longer dry or sore, but now pillowy and smooth, are the catalyst for what she is about to do. it reminds her how long you have waited, how much you have suffered, and her the same. the neglect, the rejections, the simmering anxieties.

the final push is thanks to the shared progress translated by your lips, the healing on both ends of a love that stays ignited, crackling, and refuses to burn no matter how long it stays lit.

ellie closes her eyes and at last, her soul feels whole, lips meeting yours for the very first time. she knows it is the first of many, because even as she runs out of breath, she can't pull away. it's much like a standoff, neither of you urgent to let go of the other after all this time.

and it pains you to be the one who pulls away first, but you were beginning to feel increasingly faint. you open your eyes but ellie is sat still as a pole, her eyes sewn shut for seconds after the kiss, her cheeks ablaze.

"you nearly killed me," you mumble, giggling at the way that she glares at you after.

"you are not allowed to say that, remember?"

"it was too good not to say right now!" you erupt into laughter as she grunts and tackles you without a moment's waste, your back hitting the bed and face attacked in the softest way imaginable; her lips scouting every area, a kiss planted in each spot like a claim. "okay, easy, easy. i love you too."

🏷️ @dolleyedfemme @valeisaslut @eriiwaii @ellieshothousewife @piercedome @therealhexstrap @jinxedbambi @heyimrye @rhian88 @g4ys0n @yoosohh @marvelwomenarehot0 @l0veylace @gold-dustwomxn @yashirawr @httpsiluvizzy @areyna

thank you for reading as always ♡

[spade-the-space-witch]

greetings Blood Meridian tumblr,, at least one person was interested in seeing my OC and i decided to draw her out.

so here’s Sanna. (temporary place holder name)

i made her for an almost au, almost fan made prequel idea i had. inspired by the early explorations of the Arctic where it goes wrong and the men become stuck in the ice during a particular harsh Winter and Judge Holden is a part of the group. (this takes place sometime during either the early 1800s or late 1700s, before Blood Meridian)

he later reveals to one of the men, one of the only ones remaining, that the only reason he even went on the voyage was to capture a native woman who has apparently been ‘causing’ other explorers to become stuck and also thriving in the Arctic environment. Judge Holden wants to capture her and ‘study’ why she’s able to thrive while they’re humiliated by the environment. turns out she’s the embodiment of nature and the wilderness and the needle fingered cold and the human made cruelty of nature, who could’ve known??

and to make up for the fact this is tagged with the main tag and only features an oc and not a canon character, i’ll make up for by sharing the time i got paranoid over Judge Holden late at night under the cut. enjoy!!!!

[arolesbianism]

Finally got around to looking at some french butterfly names for new game+ purposes and I thinkkkk I've narrowed down some options for most of the party. We'll see if I fully switch over to calling them their butterfly nicknames once it's set in stone but otherwise I'll probably just use them for dialogue and stuff if I ever write them more

[varpusvaras]

A little rundown on the AU: Jason comes legally back from the dead after Roy uses some of his old contacts, they get married to ensure power of attorney, Jason changes his name to Harper both because he was feeling mushy about it and because it's easier not to immediately have press hounding them because no one has heard of Jason Harper before. Jason has been recovering from his injuries for a while now and while he is figuring out what he wants to do on a vigilante side of things, he figures out his civilian life. He gets his high school diploma, gets an actual driver's licence, things like that.

Then he wants to get a job. He starts as a regular mechanic because he knows how vehicles work. It's fine. He gets a couple of certifications. He then just. Keeps going. He gets so many mechanic certifications for different vehicles because he already knows a lot and has always been a fast learner. He eventually ends up working as an aviation mechanic for a private hangar and he gets a very good reputation with their clients because no matter what type of plane they have, he knows what's up. He also knows what's up with their cars. Their bikes. Their boats. Their helicopters? One of the clients is an army veteran. Jason knows all the stats on all of the combat vehicles the guy ever mentions.

Jason's boss and coworkers have seen all the certificates. They are all framed on the walls. They all think that Jason very clearly has either autism or adhd or both and hyperfixates on vehicles. They are all extremely supportive of his needs and will listen to him talk about books because one of them read that it's important to support their interests. They keep calling him Sheldon and making The Big Bang Theory references. Jason has no idea what they are talking about.

[sea-lanterns]

RIDE ME!

synopsis: (cowgirl! au) what's better than riding a horse? a cowgirl.

featuring: navia, dehya, shinobu, clorinde, beidou, arlecchino

rating: 18+ smut (men and minors dni)

warnings: sub! afab fem reader, strap ons, riding, reader on top for the most part, teasing, strap ons refered to as c.o.ck and other synonyms, pet names, possessiveness, jealousy, potential poor translation of french from google translate (navia), slight cunnilingus (shinobu), size kink (beidou), handcuffs (clorinde), degradation (clorinde, arlecchino), usage of whore/slut (clorinde, arlecchino), captor x prisoner dynamic (arlecchino), belly bulge (beidou), may be ooc.

art credits: black lagoon

NAVIA

“Oh my, your cute little legs are shaking so much, ma cherie!*”

Navia giggles to herself when you find yourself panting and struggling to take all of Navia’s length inside of you. The thick toy causing your throat to tighten and whine, because Navia just had to pick something so damn big and long to shove up your pussy.

“N-Navia…” you grit through your teeth, some of the air knocking out of your lungs when the woman suddenly bucked her hips forward. “Yessss?” She replies nonchalantly, a smug look on her face when she sees the way you were struggling to properly ride her. “Did’ya…have to choose the biggest toy you could find?” You groan while glaring down at her sarcastically. 

“Oh honey, stop complaining…” Navia giggles, grabbing your hips and ripping a moan out of you when she begins bouncing you on her own. “You’re a big girl, so you can take a big dick on your own, hm?” 

With each riveting thrust, Navia had you bouncing on her hips like you were some excited little bunny, a look of pure satisfaction on the cowgirl’s face when she got an up close view of your pussy swallowing her cock each time you moved up and down. The sight was utterly breathtaking for the legendary cowgirl of your town, and you saw that she was in fact drooling a little bit from the way your cum was dripping down her shaft. 

“Oh, baise-moi, tu es si belle*.” Navia mumbled under her breath, eyes glazing over in a mesmerized way. “I can’t believe you’re mine…”

She chuckles at the way your body twitches from the constant hammering of her hips, so she decides to cut the tension a bit by grabbing her cowgirl hat lying on top of the night stand and placing it over your eyes. 

“There, now you look like a proper cowgirl.” Navia giggles, clutching your hips and smiling at the way her oversized hat tilts forward to cover your eyes. “Now ride me properly, you silly cowgirl. No horse is too big for you to tame…”

She lets out another cheery smile and continues to brutally thrust her hips at that. 

English translations taken from Google Translate: *my love, *fuck me, you’re so beautiful

DEHYA

“(Chuckle), is the princess unable to tame this bull on her own?” 

Dehya smirks cockily at the way you trembled like a leaf on top of her, the look of pure determination on your face as you attempted to get all seven inches of her strap deep inside you. You would’ve gotten all of it fitting snugly by now, but Dehya had been teasing you for the entirety of your session, smirking and gently patting your hips in a condescending manner, that really had you distracted to the point you struggled greatly with even fitting the first few inches.

“Oh, princess…” Dehya chuckles, eying the way your pussy was just drooling over her shaft like it was trying to lube itself as much as it could. Probably because it needed that much lube in the first place, and the sheer amount of precum you were excreting was enough to make your ears go hot in shame. “I’ve never seen you produce so much slick without orgasming, darlin’”

“Shut up…!” you whimpered, giving Dehya a snarky glare. “I’m not used to riding you on top!”

“It’s really not that hard, babe,” Dehya sighs, rolling her eyes playfully. “Trust me, riding a woman is a lot easier than riding a bull, and I know from both experiences.” She clicks her tongue and winks at you. “So why don’t you give it another shot, come on, I know you can do it.”

She gives you an encouraging pat on the ass and leans back, making sure to stretch her stomach a little bit so her abs could shine under the sunset’s rays. The sight of Dehya looking so relaxed and confident in you gave you the little boost you needed to ease up and slowly slide down to the hilt. 

With a strangled gasp, you let out a pretty little whine that made Dehya practically groan with pleasure. “Such a pretty noise you made there, princess,” Dehya husks, trailing one of her thumbs to push at your clit. “Can you make more? You’re usually singing like a canary by now…”

She chuckles and helps you ease down the rest of her cock, noting the tiny twitch in your legs as you struggle to ground yourself to reality. “Ah, poor thing’s all tuckered out just from sitting down,” Dehya grins, sitting up slightly to whisper in your ear. “Would you like this bull to help ride for you?”

When you were unable to respond, feeling too unbearably full from her cock, Dehya smirks and shifts her hands to rest on your hips. “I guess that’s a yes from the pretty little lady.”

Holding you close to her muscled body, she begins to thrust upwards at a brutal place, tip hitting so deep inside you it had you bouncing till you weren’t even moving on your own…

SHINOBU

“Having difficulty, sweet thing?” Shinobu whispers in that raspy voice of hers, eyes glinting forwards at you like a cat, as she watches the way you involuntarily jerked at her thrusts from her strap on pounding inside you. Shinobu was by no means a gentle woman of any kind, yet when it came to you, the sweet darling bachlorette of small town Inazuma, the outlaw was considerably generous to you, given by the fact that she could wreck your delicate pussy at any time she wanted. 

With that in mind however, Shinobu was being awfully patient with how long it took for you to adjust to her strap. The toy was not even breaking five inches, yet when you tried to stuff it inside you from the top —eager to ride Shinobu like a first time rodeo gal— you almost cried from the sheer stretch you felt of her shaft spearing you open. 

“Oh, baby…” Shinobu hummed to herself out of pity, reaching a hand forward to ease your walls a little more by playing with your clit. “You gotta loosen up, babe. I’m about to slip right out again if you’re this tight right now…”

“S-Sorry…” you grimaced, trying desperately to get your body to relax. “I don’t know why it won’t go in…”

“You’re too tense, babe.” Shinobu chuckles, pulling her bandanna down to slip her long tongue out to lick at her teeth. “Do you want me to help you? I certainly can, all you need to do is ask…”

With the way she was licking her teeth seductively and showing off her impressively long tongue, you felt your cunt drip a bit more as just the sight of it had you drooling out of arousal. “Yes please,” you mumble softly, letting Shinobu lift you off her cock and place you back down on the bed. She eased herself lower so that she was now eye level with your cunt, and began licking slow, languid strokes with her tongue until she was able to see your folds loosen up a bit.

“Atta girl…” Shinobu mumbles breathlessly, gripping your thighs to keep you from squirming and pressing deep nail indents into your skin. “Tastier than any ambrosia they serve at that damned bar…”

She groans and pulls you down to kiss at your stomach, playfully nipping the skin right above your belly button before staring up at you hungrily. 

“Do you still wanna ride me, doll?” She asks in a husky tone. 

You shake your head no. 

“Tch, spoiled girl…” she grins and raises your legs up on her shoulders so that she can angle her strap to fuck you. “You should be grateful I’m so lenient on a sweet thing like you…”

And with that, she has you clawing at the sheets as the outlaw prods her tip through your folds…

CLORINDE

“What a naughty girl, unable to keep your hands to yourself…” 

Sheriff Clorinde smirks to herself as the jingle of your handcuffs move with every bounce you take on Clorinde’s strap. The sheriff having chosen a curved, purple dildo as a strap for you to ride on, as this was your punishment for provoking the sheriff while on duty for patrol.

How did you provoke her you may ask? Well, let’s just say parading around in a short skirt, casting flirtatious winks at the gunslinger and whispering how much you wanted her to destroy you was a one way ticket to pound town with Clorinde and your hands bound together with metal cuffs. 

“But Sheriff, I was only vying for your attention…” you pouted, whining when you felt her hands grip your ass and keep you seated downward on the smooth, warm, toy. 

“Vying for my attention, you say?” Clorinde raises a brow, tugging on the chain between your cuffs so that you’d suddenly lurch backwards with a yelp. “Nearly the entire town saw the way you were crooning for me. Don’t you have any shame?” 

She gave a particularly hard thrust at the word shame, grinning to herself when she saw the way you began leaking all over the toy and crying. “What’s wrong you needy girl, have you sprung a leak?” She teases, trailing a finger down to scoop up some of your essence. “Weren’t you whining for my attention earlier? Come on, where’s that excited spark I saw earlier…”

She continues to roll her hips —albeit at a slower pace— before tilting her head up at you and sighing. “You know better than to make me jealous, sweet thing.” She sits up to whisper in your ear and holds your waist a little tighter. “Navia, Furina, and practically all the cowgirls in town had seen you parading yourself in such ludicrous ways. Only I have the pleasure of seeing you, alright?” 

She grunts and begins to roll her hips a bit faster, practically grinding into you to the point all you could feel down there was Clorinde’s strap rearranging your insides. 

“Clorinde…” you gasped when she suddenly pulled you forward to place a delicate little kiss on your mouth, completely contrasting the way she was currently pummeling you with her cock till all you could see were stars.

“That’s sheriff to you, slut.”

BEIDOU

“Well damn, I didn’t know a gal as sweet as you could take a cock this well…”

Beidou laughed as she rested back on the bed frame and placed her arms behind her head. She looked as relaxed as can be while she watched the prettiest girl in town —that’d be you— lazily bounce on her strap with determination. Usually the rugged cowgirl would be on top of you, molding your body to fit hers as she pounded her cock to the oblivion, but this time you wanted to try something different. Something you always wanted to do ever since watching Beidou wrangle some of those wild horses.

“I admit, when you first asked to ride me, I didn’t think you were serious,” Beidou sneers, “But after seeing how determined you are, it seems like you’d make quite the good cowgirl if you keep this up.”

She smiles and tilts your chin up to look at her, an endearing grin on the cowgirl’s face as she continues letting you “take the reins” so to speak. 

“Like I’d ever want to ride a horse though,” you chuckle jokingly, barely hiding a moan as it slips past your lips. “I’d rather just tame a woman…”

“You already did, darlin’” Beidou smirks, pushing you down a little further till there was a slight bulge in your stomach from her cock. “You could tame any woman out here if you could, ya little rascal…”

Your body involuntarily shuddered when you felt her tip push so deep inside you, the ridged edges of her strap feeling so good against your walls, as they milked her for everything that she was worth. “Gentle now…” you groaned, feeling stuffed to the brim from the way she was handling you. “Is this how you treat all the ladies you bed with?”

“No, just this lady.” Beidou chuckles. “Am I too rough?” 

“Not…exactly.” You whimpered, steadying yourself as Beidou bucks her hips a bit harder. “I just need to get used to it, that’s all…”

Beidou smiled softly at this, before murmuring a curse under her breath and pushing her bangs back in amusement. “Oh fuck me little lady…you’re absolutely precious…”

She can’t stop herself from grinning before grabbing your hips and helping you bounce up and down her shaft. At the extra pressure and boost in speed, you nearly creamed yourself and cried while Beidou kept you upright in her arms. 

“Well if you’re so lenient on me being a bit rougher, then perhaps I shouldn’t be so gentle on you anymore, little lady…”

And she kept her word, having you eyes roll back in bliss as she leans forward to suck a nipple into her mouth.

ARLECCHINO

“Tch…I see why that small town of yours was so angry at me for taking you…” Arlecchino husks, the smoke from her cigar fogging up your senses while you sit upright on her lap with her cock buried inside you. “You’re quite the sight for sore eyes, aren’t you?”

She slips the cigar out of her mouth and puts it out on the ashtray beside her, blowing some smoke into your face and watching as you grimace and cough with a frown. “Sensitive too,” she remarks, smirking and caressing your face with the sharp nails you were oh so terrified of. 

“A-Anyone would grimace if they had smoke blow back in their face…” you grunt, glaring down at your captor while you rode her strap with need. “It’s rude to do that anyhow, y’know.”

“I think you’re forgetting I’ve done much ruder things,” the bandit leader chuckles with amusement. “For example, kidnapped you and kept you for ransom. Isn’t that much worse than blowing smoke in your face, doll?” 

Your face scowled down at her and she only grinned at the way you were pouting. “Oh, don’t make that face sweet thing. It’s not like I have you tied up and chained to a post in the desert. You willingly came in here to fuck me, so don’t act so innocent now…”

She flashes you a sneering look before moving her hips a bit rougher so that you could really feel how hard and perfect her cock felt inside you. The way your lips part and glisten with barely contained drool had Arlecchino stroking her ego faster than you could come undone. The sight of your town’s prized jewel now drooling and riding her cock with pathetic need was sending the bandit leader into another state of superiority.

“Oh how I wish that sheriff of yours could see you now,” Arlecchino chuckles, “Clorinde was it? My, she was seething at the way I had you gripped in my arms. She looked like she would shoot me dead right on the spot if I hadn’t been carrying you.”

She was on a power trip, a glistening of madness in those red, X-shaped pupils of hers, as she began bouncing you harder against her strap. 

“You like that though, I know. A whore like you just loves being the center of attention amongst all those rugged cowgirls…”

She scoffs and sits up to bite a hickey onto your neck, enjoying the way you squirmed and clung onto her shoulders immediately once you felt her teeth on your skin. 

“Tell you what, once that sheriff of yours comes up with the sum of money I want, you send her back a little message for me, m’kay?” She growls and practically grips your ass into her clawed hands. “I want you to show her every little bite, hickey, and scratch I leave on your body, so she knows you had fun with me in my tent. Got it?”

You nodded enthusiastically before whining at the way she was now speeding her thrusts. 

“Good whore.”

[lorelune]

(kaiser x reader // minors dni // soulmate AU, references to physical abuse, smidge of yan kaiser)

kaiser doesn't want a soulmate.

his father burned off his soulmate mark with the butt of a cigarette before kaiser knew how to spell his own name. it was beat into his head that he was so much less than human, and why would such a thing need a soulmate?

his exterior puts people off once they actually talk to him. he inherited his mother's looks, and his father's heart, and any ideas of romance or deep companionship aren't really something he entertains. there's a wisp of a thought, once in a while, when he sees a mother kneel down to wipe the tears of their child or when he watches one of his teammates share an embrace with a partner following a game. there's a sliver of something there that kaiser sees, that is vulnerable and lovely and part of him aches for it in a way that's damning.

it's very easy for him to reject the feeling.

he doesn't seek his soulmate. he doesn't attempt to restore that mark that was burned away on the back of his hand. he covers it with a tattoo instead. in interviews, when pressed about his relationship status, his soulmate status, he's honest and callous— he doesn't fucking care. it's a pathetic thing to want and he won't indulge it.

it's easy to ignore. to focus on playing and crushing what he can, and not focus on the potentiality of a soulmate.

it's very easy until he meets you.

michael kaiser knows the moment he meets your gaze that you're his soulmate.

it's just like how everyone describes it to be. you look each other in the eyes and it's like... oh, he's home, isn't he? it's safety, it's peace, it's security that michael kaiser has never once felt before in his life. whatever he managed to craft through his own violence doesn't hold a candle to the way just looking at you makes him feel.

your breath catches, you hover just in front him.

(you're— just some stupid makeup artist, assigned to this photo shoot—)

"get the fuck away from me—" he spits.

you say in tandem. "— i need to use the restroom."

you bolt. the crew for the shoot isn't very large and everyone notices the palpable change in the air. kaiser white-knuckles the arms of his chair so hard that he can't be sure he would break the wood of it.

he excuses himself. tells ness to fuck off and leave him alone too when the other tries to follow him.

he splashes water on his face, tugs on his hair, even punches himself in the cheek in the bathroom. his heart won't stop pounding. the urge to find you, seek you is so strong, makes him feel physically ill.

the makeup you'd just applied to his face runs down his cheeks. even the red under his eyes is smearing.

kaiser isn't going to be able to collect himself enough to be professional, that's fine. he doesn't need to be. he'll request a new mua and tell your team that you said something off-color to him. maybe get you'll get fired and it will be that much easier to never see you again.

it's very unfortunate that fate tends to weave soulmates together, again and again. yarn spun with two different color fibers, unable to be separated once intertwined together.

you're collapsed again the wall, just outside the bathrooms. kaiser can see you shaking, can see how quickly your chest is rising and falling. you're alone too—

(he did this.)

he doesn't feel guilty. he doesn't feel fucking guilty. why would he?

you shoot to your feet. "hey, um— we should—"

"god," he clicks his tongue, crossing his arms. "following me to the bathroom of all places?"

"what?" you tilt your head. "i wasn't following you, i just needed some air. regardless, we should talk—"

"pathetic and perverse," kaiser sizes you up, leaning down to look at you. he hopes you feel as small and stupid as you are. "what horrible traits for a soulmate to have."

you still, meet his gaze again. the same warm, wanting feeling returns to kaiser, so unignorable it makes him feel ill. he'd vomit on you if that wasn't more than you deserve.

"god, you're awful, aren't you?" you scoff and cross your arms over your chest. "i was warned you'd be, but you really are a piece of work."

it's weird, how you calling him awful makes some part of him feel so desperately bad. it's a little part of him, bruised up and small but loud. he grits his teeth and ignores it.

"i don't need you." he reminds you, reminds himself. "i have no interest in a soulmate."

meeting you doesn't change that.

"oh, good. we're on the same page then." you shoot back, a conviction in your voice. "neither do i."

... what?

you're his soulmate. if there was anyone in the world who was supposed to want him, it was you. the stars crossed upon your births just so you could want him, that you'd need him, that you'd think well of him— right? that's what his teammates talked about, the few that had met theirs. that's what all the movies he'd watched from his cardboard cot in his father's home had said. and more convincingly, that's what michael kaiser knew in the broken, unsound thing that is his soul to be true.

you are supposed to want him.

"what?" he finds himself asking, venom in his voice. "why don't you elaborate on that?'

you flinch with it, rolling your eyes. your deflections seem effortless. "i don't care about having a soulmate, regardless of if its you or not. i wanted to make sure that you got that.it would be best if we forget that... this ever happened, yeah?"

oh, no, no, no— you don't get to run away from him. that can't happen. kaiser doesn't even realize he'd backed you into a wall until you physically hit it. it startles you; kaiser thinks you didn't notice either.

"works for me." kaiser tells you. "i'm glad that you can understand that i'd never want you."

he, in that moment, believes it too. kaiser fully believes that he will let you walk out of Bastard München's training facility and never see or think of you again. he will cut you from his mind, shed that which inhibits him.

(even if that feels... impossible. but, it's just another impossibility for him to overcome, yes? that's doable. understandable.)

it looks like you've been slapped when he says it. you rub over your soulmate mark. it's in the same spot on your left hand as his once was. (kaiser just read an psychology article about how this is a common self-soothing behavior. especially in those who have experienced some sort of attachment trauma—)

he sneers.

"go cry about it later. you're on the clock aren't you?"

"i'm not crying about it." you aren't but the way you get defensive and weird about his words lights in a fire in him that feels... dangerous to let continue to burn. "and aren't you working too?"

"i'm the talent." he smiles. you frown.

"oh my god," you duck away from him, back to him. "i'm so glad neither of us want each other because you're fucking insufferable already."

it feels. bad for him to hear. and yet kaiser wants to hear more of it. he wants to hear all about how you don't want him, why you don't want, and he wants to make so, so sure that you know that he doesn't need you either.

"i'll put in a complaint," he hums, matching your strides and speeding up just enough to take the lead. you're walking the same way after all. "i'll get you reassigned. i could get you fired."

"that's— taking it a bit far, isn't it?"

"i don't think it's taking it far enough." kaiser stops, whips around, and god knows that threads of fate possess him but he leers down and brackets you against large, circular column. the air is still and quiet, and he can hear the way your breath catches as he invades your space. he hopes you can feel the heat of his breath as he speaks, nearly nose-to-nose with you. "i'll pay your way to move out of the country, even. i would put you on the other side of the world."

"is it just your soulmate that you're rejecting, or love in general?" you laugh. "because no one will want you if that's the way you speak to someone you're supposed to love."

"i'm supposed to be tethered to you," he reminds you. "love is taking it a bit far. seems like you're attached already."

"you're the one who is looking at me like you want to eat me."

(doesn't he want to devour you?)

kaiser barely stops himself from spitting on you as he recoils. noa will only tolerate so much of his attitude.

you walk in silence back to the photo shoot, the room clearly away something is wrong with him. and you. but mostly him because he refuses to have you work on him further and instead makes himself a problem for the other three makeup artists available.

that night, he returns home alone. he stalks your employer's website, finds you, and finds everything about you. what you do, how long you've been doing it for, your education, your friends, your family, what you like— who you are.

he hates every bit of it. he hates how he can't stop himself.

there's another photo shoot next week, promotional materials for the new season. he has solo shots to take. and it only takes a few texts to make sure that only makeup artist there will be you. he can corner you again, probably, make your life worse so you know what an absolute mistake your making in not wanting him.

kaiser smiles to himself as he makes his arrangements. he delights in the sour expressions that he's certain you'll make when you see him again.

it's not that he cares about, he doesn't, he really doesn't. but... isn't there a particular type of pleasure to be reaped from making you, his soulmate of all people, squirm from discomfort? from his research on you, he's getting ideas, angles to force you into it.

it's enticing. it's enthralling.

and it has absolutely nothing to do with the specter of warmth that you could potentially provide him.

nothing at all.

and if it is— he'll make sure you never know, anyway.

[madfantom]

Full animatic And so, part 2 of my comments, let's start.

◁Part 1 || Part 3 ▷

In the last part, and here, the order in which the children got to William is shown, and I will explain why it is not the order of the murders Here is a MEMO with missing children to make it easier to navigate, since I drew very simplistically.

I mean, when watching usually fnaf animations, I myself had the question "who the fuck are all these kids?" and, either in another animation I understood, or I did not understand at all, or the designs were so simplified that you can guess (I mean a child in all red or with a pirate armband is foxy, Freddy is all brown, etc.) So I just made outlines of their hair and costumes and that's it

It's just a little complaint here, don't pay attention, I'll just say it once, and that's because I didn't think that someone would write the same thing all the time when writing AU And one more thing. Chick's name is SOFIA. Please guys, I know that Suzy from fnaf 6 exists, okay? She's there, hell, she's even in the animation next to Cassidy. I just shifted her from being a chick to another one, not removed. And she also has an interesting role and a different design logic, I just don't have time to do everything. In fact, I even have a reason why Sofia exists and I wrote a very long text post about it, but I haven't finished drawing sketches there, so you won't see it yet. It's just that I'm starting to get a little bit hung up by the same type of comments from Pinterest, although to get rid of this, I write in big letters everywhere that it's AU

Let's go back to the animatic

I have displayed the methods of killing, which will then be reflected in the appearance of the ghosts. In fact, I took the idea from my old horror zine Fnaf art when I was thinking about how the children died there to make their appearance more creepy. Some of the ideas remained, and some were redesigned, as well as some designs

Sofia was placed in a ventilation unit. William caught her and left her there suffocating in the off ventilation , after a light strangulation, suffocating in the off ventilation. She didn't actually die, but she was the first (And I refer to this also in a custom night with the phrase "I was the first, I have seen everything!") And now imagine how the room smelled of chemicals after cleaning it from all kinds of oils and other liquids necessary for mechanisms that are very difficult to wipe off. While ventilation did not work and the girl was locked in a narrow place after she was strangled, forced to watch through the slots for the children who were after her That's why Sofia's ghost makes such a quiet clucking sound, as she coughs as if she's still in the ventilation. She won't die of suffocation, nah, in this comic she's still alive and William can cut her throat.

About the rest it is more obvious, well, not counting the pictures on the Background.

Jeremy was electrocuted, so his ghost hair is pulled up as if by an electric shock. He also has charred lips and eyelid skin and no eyebrows, and his hands have torn and charred stripes from just the same clamp. He looks like the most crippled of the three

Fritz couldn't stand the blows from blunt and sharp objects and in the end they attached a mask to his face with a nail gun or something like that and set it on fire quite a bit. Well, just a little bit. His background is directly related to the comic, which Redraw at the beginning, and now I continue. I'm still doing it, but I need a lot of time for it

Gabriella was basically cut while they wrapped one of those cables around his neck that are forever hanging on the walls in fnaf and pulled out his eye after death

[jaggedamethyst]

circuit breaker 🔬🌌 (part four)

tutor!jayce talis x reader, ekko x reader college au

content: jayce ghosts you when you need him most...so you have no choice but to lean on your best friend, ekko

pining, mental health mentions, neurodivergence, lmk if i missed any!

notes: ekko pic...omg... (you may think this series is going slow but i hate a slow burn ass fic that has them fucking chapter three don't pmo...also this evolved way past just jayce and i need to do ekko justice...bc some of yall don't, clocked it)

word count: 2.9k

series masterlist

⭑·ﾟﾟ·*:༅。.。༅:*ﾟ:*:✼✿　　✿✼:*ﾟ:༅。.。༅:*·ﾟﾟ·⭑

“Do you know that girl Jayce is always with?” 

You arrived to class, ready to learn—but not about physics truthfully. You expected to cut corners, create friendly conversation about nothing, humor Viktor. When you got there, though, you had to ask him immediately. 

“Mel Medara?” Viktor looked to you with intrigue. “I know of her…but not much about her.” He leaned to his left, toward you, “Why?” 

“She’s just always…around? And we spoke to each other once but I was in a hurry…didn’t get much chance for a formal introduction.” 

“Are you certain that your intrigue is rooted purely in your inquisitive nature…or is there another reason you want to share?” 

“No-“ 

The sound of the door towards the front of the class opening interrupted you—it was perfect timing, actually. You would rather not have to unpack why Mel’s presence bothered you so much; truthfully it was an inexplicable feeling. Someone walked in, and you sat up straighter. 

“Hi, everyone! My name is Caitlyn, some of you may know me if you’ve ever been to the student resource center.” She smiled at you, exchanging a look of recognition. “I wanted to formally introduce myself… I will be joining as a TA. If you need anything and can’t get ahold of the professor, you can ask me your course related questions.” She moved to plug a laptop into the projector, “Here is my email for future reference.” She allowed some time for people to copy and take photos of her email down. “Unfortunately, today’s class will be canceled for an emergency…but I was instructed to relay to you that the quiz will still be held next week. It’ll be on vectors and calculating their angles. Be sure to refresh yourselves over the weekend and reach out to me should you have any questions.” People started to shuffle around her, getting up to leave class. “I’m sorry for the inconvenience, guys. Feel free to use the space to get some other work done, or leave early.” 

“What the fuck, this was such a waste of my time.” You glanced back towards the board, making sure you got the email address right. “I have been so tired I could be sleeping right now.” 

“I’m sorry, I know you have a lot to deal with right now.” Viktor moved to the end of the aisle, grabbing his cane while slinging his bag over one shoulder. “At least you’ve been in tutoring. The quiz this week should be easier, right?” 

“That’s the thing,” you reached for your phone, “We’ve only just got to vectors so far. That was hard enough.” You hovered your finger over Jayce’s contact, never actually having messaged him. Before you could talk yourself out of it, you started texting him. 

hi jayce 

im sorry to bother you but i have my quiz next week and its gonna be on more stuff than we got to in our sessions

do you have any time to meet with me this weekend? if not thats ok, i can ask my friend

You paused, walking behind Viktor without looking up from the phone screen. 

i just need you

No, you shook your head, continuing the text. 

i just need your help

lmk

ty 

You grimaced at the text bubbles, hating how you split all of that up. You imagined his annoyed face, seeing all of these desperate messages. You wouldn’t blame him if he didn’t answer. You wouldn’t answer you. 

Viktor turned to you, “Are you alright?” 

“Yes, just frustrated and irritated and angry…thats all.” 

“That’s not a great combination.” 

You shook your head. Without trying, Viktor could always cheer you up. “Unrelated, but did Jayce ask you about what snacks I eat?” 

“He did,” he looked over at you, “It was odd. He said something about ‘reinforcements’ for your guys’ tutoring session.” 

“Oh...okay.” 

Viktor would call himself a lot of things, including perceptive. He didn’t say much, but he noticed the way your eyes lingered on one another when you first met. He was aware of the way you spoke about each other, especially when it was just Viktor around. He simply arched a brow at you, observing your concerned look at the phone screen. 

“Maybe you should take the weekend to rest and recuperate.” 

“I would…but the quiz-“ 

“Just for today. Wait for Jayce to get back to you. Then you can focus solely on next week.” He nodded reassuringly. 

He returned the nod, liking the sound of the plan. 

If only Jayce had bothered to answer. 

——————

“Hi.” 

“Come on in.” Ekko stepped back, letting you into his dorm. 

“I know it’s so last minute, but I know nothing about angles …figured you could help.” 

“I absolutely can help and would love to.” 

You sat your stuff down, getting comfortable as you’d done dozens of times before. You turned a corner, washing your hands at the sink before heading to grab a throw blanket from Ekko's bed. 

He knew your habits, calling from the living room area. “I have the heated blanket out here, too, if you wanna use that one. Know you get cold.” 

You exited his room, wearing the slippers you left under his bed. “Once again, you are the best…because I am, in fact, freezing my ass off right now.” 

“Want something to drink?” 

“Always.” 

The two of you were so in sync—it had to be that way after Powder. It became worse when Vi blamed you, suspecting one of you said something to her to make her disappear. Even though you know you did nothing wrong, there was still a self-hate there. That you couldn’t be there for a friend who needed you—so much so that she left entirely. You couldn’t do that to Ekko, he felt the same. 

“So,” you pulled out the folder Jayce had given you, a slight frown on your face at the thought of him completely ignoring you. “I have this paper, its like a cheat sheet for vectors…but besides what Jayce told me I don’t know what to do. The TA said we also have to calculate the angles…that makes no sense.” 

Ekko grabbed his notebook, flipping to a blank sheet of paper. He sketched a makeshift drawing—surprisingly good for how quick he’d done it. You were always in awe of his artistic talent. 

“Okay, so here…is a light pole.” He moved his finger to the other side of the paper, motioning toward a little drawing of you, smiling on the sidewalk. “This is you.” 

“Wait I’m so adorable here!”

Ekko chuckled, side eyeing you a bit, “Yeah…” 

You snatched the pencil—quickly drawing in a stick figure of him. “This is you!” 

“Is it really? Couldn’t tell.” 

“Hey-“ You swatted his arm, “You’re identical in my opinion.” 

“If having lines for a body is identical…then sure. But anyways…not the point of my sketch.” He grabbed the pencil back, “Thank you very much.” He flipped the pencil, using the eraser side to show you the details. “Okay…light pole…you.” He smirked, knowing you wanted to interject. Ekko raised his hand before you could, “This is the distance between you and the pole.” He made up and wrote a random number in feet under the bottom, the same for the pole. “This is the height of the pole. This is all you need to find every angle and distance measurement.” 

The look on your face was one of pure confusion. “How does that make any sense whatsoever, Ekko?” You moved to close the book. “Actually, lets just watch a movie instead. I’m prepared to fail at this point.” 

Ekko grabbed the book from you, reopening it. “Well, I’m not, so let’s get to work.” 

He continued, explaining as best he could. It was no use, though, it just wasn’t making sense to you. You nodded, trying to get him to move on to something else. 

“Does that make sense?” 

“Yeah.” You reached to hug Ekko, “You’re the best.” Pulling back, you plastered on a smile, hiding the discomfort. You didn’t feel ready whatsoever. Suddenly, Ekko grabbed your hands, pulling your attention to him. 

“You’re gonna do great.” He lingered on you for a while, “Promise.” 

The doubt you felt made you want to hole up and skip class altogether. Eventually, it developed into a disdain for Jayce. When you thought about it, he was the reason you were going to fail…again. 

——————

You decided against skipping class on Monday, but you were definitely opting out of that damn tutoring session. If Jayce can’t answer a simple few texts, how were you to know you even had a standing appointment anymore. It made you feel less than worthy of a proper notice. Above all, it just felt plain unprofessional…he’s an employee after all. 

Walking into class and into this quiz felt like a walk to your execution. Midterms were quickly approaching, which meant you only had so many quizzes you could fail before the majority of your final grade was tainted by bad ones. 

Viktor greeted you as normal, moving over to give you a seat. “Are you prepared?”

“As best as I can be.” 

The beauty of college was that you did assessments in class and got the results as soon as you submitted. Knowing you would get your score back in the next few minutes had your stomach churning. An image of Jayce, carefree and nonchalant, popped into your head. Nothing was making sense. Reluctantly, you started choosing random answers—disregarding the calculator altogether. Before you knew it, your grade, a 56%, reflected back to you. 

“Fuck,” you whispered to yourself. You closed your laptop, getting up to leave class early. “I’ll see you later, Viktor.” 

Before he could reply, you were gone. Pushing through the door. You grabbed your phone from your pocket, texting Ekko. 

im done early, wanna meet rn?

He replied a few seconds later.

omw 

You picked up the pace, not out of urgency, but in pure frustration. Everything you’d been working towards wasn’t paying off. The time you spent not being with Ekko—with Jayce—was a waste. 

When you arrived to the dining hall, Ekko wasn’t there yet. You took the time to grab both you and him something to eat for lunch. Within minutes, Ekko showed up, that warm smile on his face as usual. He leaned into you, giving you a side hug while simultaneously grabbing the food from you. 

“How was the quiz?” You didnt reply, simply giving him a side eye. “Damn…I’m sorry.” 

“Not your fault…but thanks for helping.” 

He’d seamlessly changed the subject—allowing the two of you to talk without the reminder of your failure that day. You didn’t acknowledge how fast the time had passed and truthfully, didn’t care. You hadn’t planned to show up to tutoring…much less give Jayce any notice. 

To your right, you suddenly heard a voice, interrupting you and Ekko. 

“Hey.” You looked over, seeing Jayce standing there. “I figured you’d be here.” He looks between you and Ekko, hands now on his hips. “You missed our session.” 

You raised a brow and crossed your arms over your chest. “Wow, really? Didn’t know we were still having those.” 

“Of course we are, you have those quizzes-“ 

“Had.” You interrupted, “There was one today. You’d know if you checked your phone.” 

He looked down, embarrassed at his phone sitting in his front pant pocket. 

“I’m sorry- I know this is important for you but something came up.” 

“What? What came up?” Ekko spoke up. 

Jayce turned to look at him, finally acknowledging his presence again. “Something personal,” he looked away, focusing back on you. “Can we talk alone?” 

Ekko spoke again, “Say what you need to say.” 

“I would, but I’m not talking to you.” 

A screech of Ekko’s chair resounded in the dining hall. You reached a hand out, gesturing toward them. “Ekko, please.” 

Ekko looked over to you and inhaled a deep breath. He was looking at Jayce again, but kept talking to you. “I’ll see you later, okay? Call if you need anything.” 

“Wait- Ekko-” 

Jayce gulped, sitting down across from you. You watched Ekko leave as Jayce took his seat, hands resting on the table. 

“What the hell is your problem? You ghost me then show up here with an attitude? I should be pissed…I am pissed! I failed because of you!” 

He nodded, knowing the weight of his being inaccessible. “I’m sorry.” 

“You said that.” 

“There was a personal thing, a family emergency-“

“And yet, your phone is still in working condition.”

You didn’t want to be insensitive, but it takes seconds to reply. A simple message would’ve sufficed. 

“My mom’s sick.” You froze—remembering that it’s just him and his mom. “She was in the hospital all weekend…it still hasn’t gotten better.” He paused, looking at you now, “I thought I owed you to at least show up today.” 

“Well…now I feel like shit.” 

“Don’t. Not your fault I didn’t tell you what was happening.” 

“Is there anything I can do?” 

“Hope she gets better?” 

You reached over, placing a comforting hand on his, “I can do that.” 

He let you linger there, before pulling back. “How about this week, since I messed up so bad with scheduling…we meet as much as you’d like just so you can be ready. Shit, it can be every day if you want.” He nodded, “We’re gonna make sure you pass this class if it’s the last thing I do.” 

“Are you sure? I can be pretty high maintenance…” 

He leaned back in his chair, a nonchalant yet playful look on his face, “Not worried about it.” 

“Okay.” You shrugged, “If you say so.” 

The pair of you exchanged smiles, not at all prepared for how tumultuous this week would be. 

part five

taglist

@juskonutoh @sseleniaa @aerina127 @sleepysoldier @angelicmisty @1800latenitecreep @venus-in-roses

[thatsodapopgirl]

Alastor’s Split Personality Au

The serial killer personality of Alastor is referred to as the Radio Demon

Alastor has a split personality, which causes a debate between heaven and hell.

Alastor lived his whole life as a law-abiding citizen and always helped people in need. Unfortunately he suffered a head injury in his late 20’s/early 30’s which created a separate violent and murderous personality. It would only come out when Alastor was in danger or if Alastor encountered deplorable people and it would hunt them down. And Alastor would wake up the next morning and have no memory of the murders. If he had to guess, they were blackouts from the drinking.

“Must of danced too much with Mimzy”

Alastor would ask patrons at the speakeasy what happened or if he acted strange. But they would say that he was the same as always. So it came as a huge shock when Alastor woke up in hell of all places. And the blackouts increased more in his time in hell, some lasted days and even weeks.

Alastor would start his own investigation and try to figure out what he could have possibly done that landed him to damnation. He knew it was because of the blackouts, but it wasn’t because of the alcohol since now they came and went. And if he tried to ask anyone they would try to avoid him or run away. However whenever he heard of the whispers of the Radio Demon, he would get this sense of Deja vu. Like that name is supposed to mean something to him. He wrote it off because he was once a radio show host, but from the rumors, Alastor did not think it would be a wise choice to go back to radio in case he runs into this monster. He never heard the broadcast, but if the rumors of the screams are true, it was best he didn’t.

Alastor would receive earth shattering news when he met up with Mimzy again.

“Mimzy! It’s been so long! I’m sorry about your recent passing my dear and I wish we could of had our reunion in another place” As Alastor was about to embrace her, he stops when Mimzy says

“The hell you talkin about Alastor? You’ve known I’ve been dead for almost a year now.”

Alastor was shocked, “W-what do you mean? A year?”

Mimzy realizing what was going on felt very awkward as it seemed she was going to break the news to her old friend.

“Sorry to have to tell you this sweetie, but there’s a reason you’re in hell”

Alastor didn’t know what was more devastating; not knowing why you are in hell in the first place or finding out you have a split personality of a serial killer. Alastor then remembered the Radio Demon and asked,

“What do you know of the Radio Demon?”

When the Hazbin Crew learns about Alastor’s split personality. Some of them are conflicted about how to feel about it.

Angel still thought the Radio Demon personality to be sexy, but he found Alastor’s personality to be a lot easier to talk to since the guy was nice and it was funny to get all flustered.

Vaggie does feel sorry for Alastor, but she’s still wary about it but that’s because she doesn’t trust the Radio Demon. She was the first to think it was just a manipulation tactic, but Husk confirmed it.

Alastor and Sir Pentious were already friends before the hotel. Well sort of, since Sir Pentious declared himself Alastor’s nemesis, but the two would have coffee together after their battles. The Radio Demon never killed Sir Pentious and when Alastor was back, he felt responsible for the snake demon’s injuries. He had just found out about the split personality thing once he started living at the hotel, which made him feel really guilty about the times he tried to kill Alastor.

“I’m sssso sssorry! It’s just that you two are so alike I couldn’t really tell the difference.”

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it old chum. It’s not something I like to advertise, lest all of hell know about it” It hurt to be compared to such a monster, but last thing Alastor needs is for the Radio Demon’s enemies to find out.

Husk and Alastor have a complicated relationship. When Husk first learned about Alastor’s split personality, “You are the unluckiest sad son of bitch I have ever met”

They have developed a friendship over the years, but Radio Demon still owns Husk’s soul and if Alastor even attempted to set Husk free, he would make the feline the next voice in the broadcast. It was a threat not only for Husk but for Alastor. Husk even dislikes Mimzy even more because she knows about Alastor’s condition but still takes advantage of him.

Charlie is obviously heartbroken for Alastor. From her point of view, he was a good soul that was cheated from entering heaven. Alastor was helpful, cared about his friends and was very supportive of her dream.

“I’m sorry about your situation Alastor, but there’s still hope for redemption”

“It’s a nice thought Charlie, but I don’t think redemption is in the cards for me. The Radio Demon doesn’t want to change and I don’t think I can go to heaven when he’s part of me”

Nifty loves both. Alastor and the Radio Demon may be different but both seem to care about her and enjoy her roach puppet shows.

Lucifer is a different story. Yeah, it is terrible that Alastor got screwed over like that, but Lucifer still disliked him. He saw both Alastor and the Radio Demon trying to take his position as father of his little girl. But as got to know both personalities, he couldn’t help himself but to fall for them. Alastor was one the first souls after Eden to show Lucifer the kindness and the good side of humanity. He also cared about Charlie and genuinely believed in her cause. Alastor was also someone Lucifer trusted to open himself up too; he told Alastor about his fears, guilt and loneliness and Alastor was accepting of him. There was no trace of lies, trickery or deceit, Alastor was a genuine soul that cared about Lucifer’s feelings and wanted to help. Then there was the Radio Demon. It took Lucifer awhile to come around to him, in fact he hated even more for being the reason Alastor was in hell. But the Radio Demon was charming and just as witty as Alastor. And Lucifer soon realized that the Radio Demon was the dark side of Alastor, he was the feelings that Alastor pushed deep inside of him as he was forced to live in a time of poverty, depression, prejudice and injustice. Yes the Radio Demon murdered many, but from his point of view those people were just as awful or worse. He claimed that he was the side of Alastor that wasn’t afraid to get his hands dirty and if wanted something he would get it. Lucifer should have been disgusted, but he could help but be attracted to the Radio Demon’s rebellious nature and he secretly had a thing for “bad boys”

So with much regret, he was going to hurt both Charlie and Alastor. When word got out about Sir Pentious being in heaven, Charlie was more motivated to help Alastor and get heaven to realize their broken system. As Charlie and Alastor were preparing their case to Lucifer; he filled them with doubt.

“Are you sure you both want to do this? I mean heaven is very strict with which souls are allowed and with Alastor’s history they won’t be so accepting”

“But it was proven that redemption is possible and Alastor is proof that the system is broken!” Charlie argued

“I’m not so sure about that Charlie” Lucifer said, “How are both so sure that Alastor isn’t right where he belongs?”

This shocks both Charlie and Alastor. Alastor hesitantly questions back

“What do you mean Lucifer? I’m nothing like the Radio Demon, I never harmed or killed anyone”

“No but you thought about doing it.”

“What?!” “Dad?!”

“Do you truly believe that you and the Radio Demon aren’t one of the same? Maybe that bump in your head just released all the repressed rage you’ve locked away? You both act the same, talk the same, enjoy the same thing.”

Alastor is shaking as he continues to chant with a broken voice no. But was he saying to Lucifer himself.

“Stop it dad! That’s not true! Alastor is nothing like that, he wouldn’t kill anybody!”

“You sure? Tell me Alastor, if it is true that you and the Radio Demon are two different personalities, that must mean you two are different souls.” Alastor was confused, but Lucifer smirked as he continued, “The Radio Demon will never change, you know that. But if you really want to enter heaven, would you try separating yourself from him? Even if it means that this could destroy the other personality? Killing another souls to get what you want. Answer honestly”

Alastor didn’t want to answer. With tears sliding down Alastor’s cheeks and with the silence, all three knew what the answer would be. As Alastor sobbed, he didn’t hear footsteps coming his way. He was suddenly engulfed in Lucifer’s embrace. It looked comical because Lucifer was so short, but Alastor couldn’t help but feel a chill run down his spine when Lucifer began to speak.

“Don’t worry Al, I accept you. I accept all of you and will be by your side for all eternity.”

Yes Alastor deserved paradise, but he didn’t need heaven for that. Lucifer could provide for him just as much and the Radio Demon would continue to thrive in hell.

I just can’t stop with the dark/possessive Lucifer can I?

[gorbo-longstocking]

Cover It Up | Modern!Caracalla x GN!Reader

Summary: Every few nights, like clockwork, Caracalla shows up at your door, drunk, or high, or both. There is so much that he says, and so little that you can bring yourself to tell him. It’s the same now as it always is.

Tags: Modern AU, GN!Reader, references to drugs and alcohol, implied past child abuse (Caracalla), implied addiction problems (Caracalla), so much yearning, reader is a medical student, kind of sad and angsty, this is technically an side story to my main fic Do Not Blame the Sea but it can be read as its own thing, Caracalla and Reader’s relationship here sort of parallels how it is in the main fic

Word Count: 1.7k Words

Song: Lost Kitten - Metric

Do Not Blame the Sea Masterlist

Before the door even opened, you knew who was standing on your doorstep. Who else would visit you in the late hours of the night when the moon was drifting lower on the horizon in order to make way for the sun? You couldn’t name another person in your life who would dare bother you during the few seconds of solitude you so desperately craved. No one else would expect you to be awake. Not your parents who would lose their minds if they discovered you were doing anything but sleeping or studying, and certainly not your fair-weather friends from college who knew nothing of your insomniac tendencies. It was always him. The one you’d drop everything for, no matter what it was.

It was always Caracalla who knocked on your door.

“Good morning, doctor.” He leaned on your porch railing, his feet unsteady. The stench of booze radiated off of him in waves, nearly suffocating in its intensity. On his chin, vomit was crusted to his skin, and you let out a sigh.

“Caracalla, I don’t think anyone would consider it morning yet. Come in.”

You always thought he was beautiful with the night sky behind him. While your apartment was nestled too far in the city for there to be stars, the midnight blue complimented his eyes perfectly. His imperfections were hidden during the day when you saw him on campus, that was when he was far too fixated on hiding them. It was only at this hour, when sweat made his makeup run, revealing acne and pockmarks, and the humidity made his red hair curl, did you think he was more handsome than you had ever seen him. Caracalla would never believe you if you told him. If anything, he would believe your words to be a joke. So, like all thoughts in regards to your affections for him, you kept them to yourself.

Reaching out an arm, you opened the door wide to help him inside. His hand was clammy, far too warm to match his drunken flush. Judging by the size of his pupils, alcohol wasn’t all he had gotten into. You had known Caracalla long enough to know his drug of choice tended to be cocaine, though with a frustrating tendency to indulge especially when he didn’t know what he was taking. The likelihood he simply ate a random pill he found on the floor of a frat house was annoyingly high. He giggled as he clumsily made his way in the door, pressing his body against yours. Despite his rancid state, you found yourself craving his warmth. You always did.

“Doctor, doctor, I need my doctor,” Caracalla slurred as you led him to the couch. When he flopped onto the cushions, his eyelids fluttered shut before he forced them open again. That made it easier to guess what was in his system, it meant whatever he took wasn’t an upper. “Need you to take care of me. Get to it.” He was always so demanding, and a bit of fondness fought with your exasperation. Before you left to get him a glass of water, he reached out to wrap delicate fingers around your wrist. “I’ve missed you.”

You missed him too. In order to keep the words from spilling out, you gave him a tight smile and pulled away. His glassy eyes flickered with a familiar frustration you paid no mind. Once you were in the kitchen, you fell into a routine. Water to hydrate him, a wet towel to wipe the vomit from his chin, and some tylenol for the morning. Like every night Caracalla came, you would tell him to sleep on the couch, and like every night since you met him, he would find his way into your bed. You set the medicine on your night stand.

“Tell me you missed me too,” He demanded once you were in his line of sight. His eyes were squinted, unable to open them any wider than they were. When you handed him the water, he drank greedily, and before he could wipe his chin with his sleeve, you crouched down to wipe him clean. Caracalla hummed, nearly a purr, as you steadied yourself with a hand against his cheek, leaning into your touch. “I know you did, I can feel it.”

“I’m surprised you can feel anything aside from how badly the room is spinning,” You grumbled.

Caracalla laughed, high-pitched and sharp. His gold tooth glinted in the dim light. “I must be dreaming, but I see four of you, doctor. Surely one must want to soothe my aches.”

“Those aches better be the urge to sleep.” The wet rag you were using caught on his bottom lip, dragging it down. Over a year of yearning made you stare, though you would never dream of taking advantage of him in this state.

Caracalla followed your gaze to his mouth and he smirked. His voice fell into a whisper, breath hot against your face. “The urge to fuck.”

“My answer is the same as always, Caracalla.” Before you removed your hand from him, you gave him a firm pat on the cheek. Disappointment made his face scrunch up. It was a cute expression, and maybe it was a quarter of the reason you kept turning him down. The other half being the fact he was only ever intoxicated when you were together, and the final quarter being your parents inevitable disapproval. “It’ll never happen.”

Caracalla stood, swaying in place for a moment. Once he found his balance, he stumbled the memorized route to your bedroom to curl into his side of the bed. It was embarrassing to realize that he had his own spot in your home now, but with how often he showed up, it only made sense.

A year and a half ago, you wanted nothing to do with Caracalla. You barely knew he existed outside of the rumors that followed him like a plague. Of his pet monkey that made him a miserable roommate in the dorms, of the fact he was a walking petri dish of STDs, his promiscuity, his tendency towards hedonism over his grades, and most of all, the fact his daddy knew the dean personally, so it wasn’t as if he could get in any lasting trouble for any of it. He was in your biology class three semesters ago. Like most people he considered below him, he paid you no mind until you were stuck together on a group project. You intended to do all of the work if only to avoid him, and he seemed content to let you.

You hadn’t meant to find him hysterical and barely coherent in his dorm, nor did you mean to endear yourself to him as entirely as you by calming him down. Apparently, his father had left him quite the nasty voicemail. You didn’t listen, you deleted it the second you got ahold of his phone, but you could put the pieces together well enough. Especially with the half-sobbed pleas for mercy Caracalla cried into your chest.

After that, Caracalla latched on, and like mold on bread, he grew on you. During the day, he barely paid you any attention. It was only at night did he make his affections known, drunk, or high, or both, always showing up when the rest of the world was asleep. You didn’t know why he bothered. If he truly meant what he said, surely he wouldn’t ignore you as he did during the day. When he kissed other people, he made sure you knew, watching your expression out of the corner of his eye. There was a lot about Caracalla you didn’t understand, and you were certain you never would. You wanted to, though. That was why you buried yourself against his side, slinging his arm over your shoulders to help him into your bed.

This was how the night always ended, Caracalla in your arms, snoring away. This time, however, he remained awake, staring up at you. It was obvious it was taking everything he had to stay awake. He took turns closing each eye, one resting while the other bored into you.

“Go to sleep,” You muttered.

Caracalla whined and rubbed his cheek against yours. “I don’t want this to end.”

The admission made your breath catch in your throat. You didn’t want this to end either. He was always gone by the time you woke up.

“Then don’t leave.”

His fingers tightened in the fabric of your pajamas. “It’s better that I do, my doctor.”

“Caracalla.” Licking your dry lips, you couldn’t bring yourself to look at him. “Why do you always come back? If you’re not going to stay, why do you look for me like this?”

He hummed, and for a moment, you didn’t think he’d respond. Finally, clumsy and slurred, the words tumbled out of his mouth and burrowed into your chest, “You make me feel safe.”

You wished he could say it when he wasn’t on some pill when it actually meant something. Still, you couldn’t help the flutter your heart gave. Your eyes burned as you tightened your grip on his body. “I hate it when you’re like this.”

“I hate it when I’m sober,” Caracalla sleepily replied. “I remember too much.”

Chewing on your bottom lip, you let yourself ask, “Do you forget these nights too? Is that why you hardly look at me when we’re on campus.”

“I could never forget you.” He was drifting now, and with a deep breath, he forced himself to hover over you, his palm planted on the mattress beside you. With a desperation you shared, he pressed his forehead against yours. “Kiss me.”

It took everything you had to turn away. “Not when you’re like this. When you're sober, I will. I promise.”

Defeated, Caracalla let himself slump back against you.

“I’m never sober.”

“Then you know what my answer is.”

With him curled around you, you barely heard it, the same confession he made every night, spoken with the conviction you tried to ignore. “I love you.”

You didn’t respond.

A minute passed in silence, the only sound in your small bedroom the sound of your mingled breathing. Gently, you shook Caracalla to make certain he was asleep, and when he didn’t move, you told him what you’d been hiding since the first day you held him. Your own declaration that made your stomach churn with fear.

“I love you too.”

And, like every night, Caracalla didn’t hear.

A/N: I know I said that I wasn’t going to do DNBTS oneshots, but I listened to Lost Kitten by Metric and saw visions of this. This is sort of a tumblr only fic, I dunno if I’m gonna out this on AO3?? I gotta think on it. Like I said in the tags, this is supposed to sort of mirror where Caracalla and Alga are relationship wise in DNBTS, just a smidge angstier. Caracalla unable to truly be with Alga in the way he desperately wants due to public perception, but until he can, Alga will continue to push him away despite wanting him too. Cue insane amounts of yearning. Also something, something Caracalla is incapable of change.

For those who don’t know what Do Not Blame the Sea is, it’s my main fic! So, if you liked this, go check that out, hehe. I don’t have much to say here, really, so this author’s note will be short. Bye-bye! I hope you enjoyed this little thingy, please like, reply, or reblog if you did! It’ll encourage me to indulge in more side stories and AU’s <3

[heyimkana]

Desiderium - Chapter 3

Series Masterlist | AO3 Link

Pairing: Yuuta Okkotsu X Female Reader X Satoru Gojo

Genre: Reincarnation AU, Marriage AU, Fluff, Smut, Slow Burn

Summary: Set in Tokyo, Japan, you and Yuuta were past lovers separated by the cruel hands of fate. That same fate brought you to him again a century later, but while you hold no memories of him or the beautiful life you had shared with him in the past, Yuuta remembers everything. He's waited forever to see you again, yearning for your love, not knowing that you already belong to someone else.

Word Count: 13K+

Content Warnings: None for this chapter.

Art drawn by @alwhmd_ on Twitter (commission)

They discover a little game. It’s all Yuuta’s idea. 

“To expand our knowledge and interest,” he says before bashfully adding, “A-and so we can know each other better.”

One of those reasons convinces her to play along. It’s never about the books.

The rule is simple: he’ll choose short literature for her to read for the day—whether it’s in the form of poetry or novel, matters not, as well as its genre—and she’ll do the same for him. They’ll share their thoughts afterward, and whoever can make the other feel entertained with their recommendation will win the game. Yuuta chooses not to place any bets despite her constant suggestions to make the game more interesting, but he says he’ll allow her to ask him to do something—anything—she wants if she manages to impress him with her choice.

I can work with that, she thinks, and so they play. They do it once a week if the novels are too thick to be finished within a day or two. But if it’s a short story, they’ll repeat the game as soon as the last one ends.

She always wins, but only because he lets her. She knows that. And she feels terrible asking someone as pure and gullible as Yuuta to do something crazy, knowing that he will indeed do anything she asks of him and possibly dying in the process, figuratively speaking. Maybe even literally, seeing how his body nearly combusted into flames when she simply asked him to stop calling her by her surname. 

“It’s been weeks since we first met, Yuuta. Isn’t it about time?” She had argued then. “Aren’t we close enough to be on a first-name basis now? It doesn’t feel fair that I’m the only one calling you this way.” She left him no room to escape. 

He needed a few seconds to gather the courage, but he agreed. Her name flowed past his mouth, and it sounded exactly the same as the way he called her in the dream, so naturally as if he had been calling her that way for years, like a soulmate to another. She asked him to continue referring to her with her first name, saying they sounded more like friends that way. She did not mention a word about how warm and giddy he made her feel inside with every call of her name. He didn’t need to know; it was already dangerous as it was.

She’s stopped trying to win the game since then, deciding it would be funnier—and easier on her heart—if she played tricks on him instead.

So, today, she plays Yuuta’s innocent game with her wicked mind in charge, selecting a story that is too long to finish in three hours and too absurd for his mind to comprehend. “This book got me through some tough times,” she says, a complete lie. She hasn’t even read it, not once. She’d simply looked it up online a few minutes before, secretly grinning like a devil as she skimmed through endless terrible reviews from readers who were disgusted by the chaotic plot and even messier ending. The more bad reviews it got, the better, so she decided it was perfect for her to recommend. “Sharing this with you is like sharing my deepest secret, Yuuta, so please. Read it. It’s very important to me that you like it.”

Poor Yuuta nods with all his heart. He’s excited, super excited, probably thinking he’s on his way to a new adventure to understand her better, only to be frowning and glancing at her with concerned eyes for the rest of his reading session. By the time he’s finished with it, she asks him for his opinion.

He looks genuinely concerned for her. She’s having the time of her life.

Yuuta, on the other hand, is always so meticulous in choosing what to recommend. Whenever he finds something interesting, he does a quick research beforehand to make sure it’s universally loved instead of a simply biased opinion. He’ll be so nervous about it, too, adorably so. “I’ve read this before and, umm… The ending is pretty satisfying to me, and it got me wondering what could have been if—no, I shouldn’t spoil it, just, umm, just give it a try? Please? I think you’ll enjoy it.”

She takes the book away from his hand, scrutinizing the cover. 

He winces, “The cover doesn’t say much. Please don’t judge it from—”

“Yuuta, will you relax?” She laughs. “I’ve read books before; I know the rules. I wasn’t judging it from the cover. I was just reading the author’s name.”

“Oh… Okay…”

“Yukio Mishima… Hmm… Why does his name sound familiar to me?” Her eyes skate through the first page, moving from one passage to another. “His writing style, too. Have you recommended his other works to me before? I swear I’ve read it somewhere. I can’t remember it.”

Yuuta’s jaw clenches before he forces out a smile. “Have I? I don’t remember. He is my favorite author, though, so… Yeah, maybe.”

She looks at him. There’s something he’s not telling me. Since he doesn’t seem to want to elaborate, she has no choice but to end it with a shrug. “Okay. I’ll read it.” She heads towards an empty couch, snickering. “If this ends terribly, you’ll have to buy me dinner.”

Yuuta chuckles, adding a hushed, “I would’ve done that every day had you let me.” She misses it. Clearing his throat, he replies a bit louder, “If it exceeds your expectations, will you go somewhere with me after this?” She stops in her tracks, turning her head around to face him. He understands the silent question—and the slight worry—shimmering on her face. “It’s not a date, I promise,” he says, although regrettably. “I just…” He tucks his hair behind his ear, another part of his mannerisms that she finds incredibly endearing despite how simple it is.“There’s this place I’ve been wanting to take you to.”

He seems anxious, waiting for her response, blatantly so that she feels sorry for taking a few seconds to think. “Sure,” she replies with a small smile. After all, it’s his first time putting effort into the game instead of letting her win all the time. “But you have to know that I have huge expectations on this. It’s your favorite author, after all. I gotta judge thoroughly.”

“Yeah.” Relief washes over him. “Yeah, okay.”

Two and a half hours have passed since then, and Yuuta waits with bated breath as she closes the book’s final page. She places it on the round wooden table between them, pushing it toward him. She remains mute.

Searching her face and desperately trying to understand what goes through her mind, he asks, “H-how was it?”

To his surprise, she stands up without a word, gathering all her things at once and sliding her arms through the sleeves of her coat. “So.” She plunges her hands into her pockets, huffing out an air. “Where will you be taking me?”

He blinks.

Then he turns the happiest he’s ever been.

***

“I can’t believe you only asked me to go to a ramen shop with you,” she mutters as they stroll along the pavements, breathing in the evening breeze that tickles their cheeks. They don’t have places they plan on going, not really, not after they have their stomachs full, but neither of them is willing to bid farewell just yet. They enjoy being in each other’s company, silently wishing for the hours to dance slowly between them. “Making it as a bet…” She snorts. “You know you could’ve just asked me to go, right?”

Yuuta titters, “Where did you expect me to take you?”

“I don’t know, a charity gala for the homeless, maybe? You made it sound like a big deal.”

“I’ll take you to the gala next time,” he jests. “Did it, at least, suit your taste? The ramen?”

They have come across an intersection, fitting themselves between the other pedestrians while waiting for the crossing light above them to turn green. “Hmm, could improve a little bit on the broth, I think,” she says. “That tonkatsu topping was a killer, though. I’m drooling just thinking about it again. I’ll give it nine out of ten just because of that.”

He smiles, primarily to himself. And as she peers at him from the side, she mirrors it, too. "You have that look on your face again."

"Pardon?"

“Every time you managed to make me smile, either by recommending a good book or getting food or drinks that suited my taste, you always looked so happy. It’s as if my joy is your joy. And I think the world would be so much better if everyone acted like that. Just, you know, making each other happy. I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone as kind and gentle as you are. Thought it was all an act at first, but," she chuckles. “You really are the sweetest person I’ve ever met. I’m glad we could be friends.”

Her lines startle him enough to turn his body into ice. Did I say something wrong? She questions herself. “Yuuta? You okay? I wasn’t being too much, was I?” 

“N-no.” He loosens his collar, fire licking his cheeks. “I, umm... I don’t think I’m that kind of person at all. It’s just... When it comes to you, I…” His sentence dies before it meets its end; too distracted to finish it. His eyes stray away from her face as his ears pick up on words murmured by a couple of strangers nearby. 

With her brows drawn together in curiosity, she follows his gaze, turning her head slightly so as not to appear so obvious. She spots two men in matching red varsity jackets sneering behind her, also waiting for their chance to cross the road, it seems. The college boys are standing a safe distance apart from her but close enough for them to catch a word or two of their conversations had they listened closely. Even if they can’t hear them, the way they’re smirking while stealing glances at her body clearly indicates what they’re conversing about.

She grows uncomfortable, turning self-conscious of her appearance. There’s nothing unusual about what she’s wearing, just a simple pair of jeans and a sweater underneath a coat, and yet, the two men make her feel as if she stood there in the nude. Her hand moves to adjust her jacket to cover her body better, feeling embarrassed despite it not being her fault. She feels powerless, failing to protect herself from being seen as an object. And to have this happening in front of Yuuta somehow makes it ten times worse because—

She doesn’t get the chance to finish her thought, her eyes widening in surprise when she feels Yuuta’s hand sliding around her waist. He pulls her close without warning, erasing any distance between them and nearly causing her to land face-first on his chest. She looks up at him, face flushed. “Y-Yuuta, what—”

She stops, staring at Yuuta with parted lips. 

This is not the man she knows.

Anger pulses through his veins, and robs the gentle light out of his eyes—a glare so cold that it changes his whole demeanor. Had she known that Yuuta could display such an expression on his face, she wouldn’t have described him as kind and gentle a moment ago. The look he has in his eyes right now… It makes her blood curdle.

Staying still in his arms, she notices the way Yuuta maintains his eyes on them, like a protective wolf watching over his pack. She never thought a menacing stare like this would be such a good look at him, but it is. It charms her, her mind drifting off on its own, wondering if he would be this possessive over her if she were his. The thought doesn’t scare her as much as it excites her. 

It doesn’t take long before she hears the boys clamp their mouths shut behind her, followed by rustling sounds of footsteps that grow fainter with every second passing by. She can feel his muscles unwinding, but the darkness in his eyes remains as deep as an endless void.

“Umm… Yuuta?”

At that, he snaps awake. “Oh, s-sorry!” He quickly backs away, letting her stand on her own feet. He’s back to the awkward, diffident person she knows, his face turning crimson without any chance to blame it on the cold wind. He bows his head in apology, unable to meet her eyes. “I’m so sorry for suddenly grabbing you like that, I—” He takes a breath. “I won’t touch you without your permission again. I promise.”

The way he acts… It makes her wonder whether he feels like he’s just as terrible as the two men before for doing something without her consent. “Thank you,” she says, tugging onto his sleeve to make him lift his head. “I got the feeling they were staring at me. I wouldn’t have done anything about it ’cause, well,” she tries to make light of the situation by forcing out a chuckle, “It happens all the time if you’re a woman. I just feel… a bit ashamed that you saw that.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” he says, staggering her a little with his solemnity. “No matter what you wear, what you don’t wear, what you say, or how you behave, it’s never a woman’s fault to have men act that way around them. It’s our fault. So, never feel ashamed about it. They should, but not you.”

He truly is kind, she concludes in her mind. “For someone with a heart of an angel, you can be really scary sometimes. Those guys were huge, and there were two of them. I didn’t think you had it in you to glare at someone like that.”

“I—I didn’t realize I looked like that. I just wanted them to stop staring at you.” His face distorts in worry. “Did I… scare you?”

He probably would have, had she not seen this version of him in the dream already. But compared to how infuriated he looked when he faced Naoya Zenin, this one was nothing. “No, just surprised. In a good way,” she adds with a little smile. “I don’t think I’ve ever had someone do something like that for me before. Satoru usually just told me to ignore them. So, thank you, really. I felt like I was in a shoujo manga therefor a second,” she chuckles before she notices the blinking lights above her. “Oh, the light’s green. Let’s go.”

She crosses the road with him trailing closely behind her, not realizing the changes in his expression. The mention of her lover’s name usually paints a sad color on his face, but tonight, it glows dark red.

***

They enter a coffee shop Yuuta recommended, a sudden change of agenda since the usual place they visited is closed for the day. She disrobes herself from her coat, plopping herself on her seat with a huff. “That was a long walk. I’m gonna feel it in my legs tomorrow.”

Following behind her with a tray in his hands (he insisted on carrying their orders despite her wish to help), he checks on her with concern. “Are you okay? See, that’s why I suggested we take the bus. The restaurant was too far away from here.”

“Well, sorry for wanting to take my time with you,” she pouts. “Was I the only one who enjoyed our long chat on our way here?”

“No, of course not!” He pales. “I enjoyed every second of it! I was just—”

“Relaaax, I was just kidding,” she simpers. “If my legs are still sore tomorrow, you’re paying for my massage.” She takes a sugar cube, watching it dissolve inside the cup as she stirs it with her teaspoon. Before she can take a sip, Yuuta drags the sugar bowl in her direction. “What?”

“You need more sugar than that. Try two more?”

“You think I can’t handle my tea?”

“It’s not that.” A peal of laughter escapes him, a bit tenser than usual. She wonders what he’s trying to hide. “I’ve had that before, and it’s a bit too bitter compared to what you usually have.”

“And how would you know how I like my tea?”

He freezes. “I don’t. I’m—I’m just guessing.”

“Uh-huh,” she narrows her eyes still. “Well, as much as I appreciate your concern, my good sir, I can handle my tea just fine.” She takes a sip, about to wince when the bitter taste hits her tongue, but she acts unfazed. “See?” She smacks her lips. “I’m fine.”

Yuuta watches her with adoration in his eyes as if trying to prove him wrong was an adorable habit of hers that he’s always loved to see. “You sure?”

It’s too tempting, and she’s only human. “Okay, fine, maybe one more.” She plops in another cube, stirs it, takes another sip, and it’s still too bitter. 

Biting his lip to suppress his grin, he nudges the bowl again. “It’s still here if you want it.”

She can’t hold it anymore. Her mouth still feels like she just munched a handful of saffrons. “But two would be too sweet,” she says, yet she drops another cube into her cup. The second her tea hits her tongue, she blinks. It’s the perfect balance. “Huh…” 

This time, he doesn’t tone down his grin. “Told you two would suit your taste.”

“Okay, you’re way too good at just guessing things,” she makes an air quote with her fingers. “How do you know so much about me? Are you my stalker?”

That wipes off his grin almost instantly. “N-no, of course not! Why would I—no!”

“I don’t know, Yuuta, that sounds exactly like what a stalker would say.” As he panics, she beams at him with a cheeky grin, and at that, his rigid muscles turn loose.

“You’re just teasing me,” he sighs in relief.

“A little,” she giggles. “But seriously. What is it? Am I that easy to read? Have I met you before?” She throws her options mindlessly, but her last question strikes him hard enough to have him perched still in his seat.

He tarries, cogitating on his response. “Do you… feel like you’ve met me before?”

She frowns, clueless as to what he’s indicating. Her heart wants to say yes, shout it out loud even, but a dream is just a dream, and it would be ridiculous to mix it up with her reality, wouldn’t it? No matter how real it felt.

“I think I would remember you if I’d met you before, Yuuta.” She chuckles lightly when adding, “You’re not easy to forget.”

She means it as a compliment, but Yuuta reciprocates with loneliness fleeting through his eyes. He separates his lips, eager to say all the feelings he’s bottled inside, but he clamps them shut before he can, dragging his gaze to his lap. “You’re right.” And yet, you did, his body seems to say. You’ve forgotten all about me.

Perhaps she’s just imagining things, or maybe she’s beginning to be as good as he is in reading his expressions, but her heart aches for him. Before she knows it, she reaches out, covering the back of his hand with her palm. “Yuuta,” she sounds soft, softer than ever, afraid to break the paper-thin glass he’s built around him. “Is there something you’re not telling me?”

His eyes shake, his face contorting in sorrow, the kind that comes straight from the heart. The silence between them, despite briefly, suffocates enough to the point where it feels like both of them are holding their breaths. The answer is clear: yes, there is. A secret I’ve been dying to tell. She knows that. She just has to wait until he’s ready to come clean with it. But today is not the time.

“No.” Yuuta retracts his hand, running away from her touch. “Just like you said, we’ve never met before.” 

Then, why do you act like we have? 

“But I promise you, I’m not a stalker.” He keeps his smile intact as always, but it feels foreign. Unrecognizable. Empty. “I’m not sure if you’re aware of this, but you often share details about yourself when you talk. I just happen to pay attention, that’s all.”

Her jaw tightens. “I see.” It’s no use trying to force an answer out of him. What if I end up hurting him even more? Or scare him away? She leans back on her seat, sighing. “Well, you must have an excellent memory, then.”

His gaze falls to the silver ring around his finger, the same one he wore around his neck on the day they met for the first time at the library. “Yeah.” He clenches his hand, bringing it down to his lap. “You can say so.”  ***

The clock’s ticking in silence, an eerie companion to the faint note of her breathing. 

Her apartment appears much more spacious than she remembers now that Satoru isn’t here. The absence of his voice and the constant clicking sounds of his keyboard feel almost unsettling, but it never perturbs her as much as the fact that her heart doesn’t clench in loneliness or emptiness, even when she stands here alone with nothing but the dull, white walls staring back at her.

It should’ve, right? And yet, it doesn’t.

Her beating heart only seeks attention, searches for affection when Satoru is here, sitting right next to her. And accepting that thought terrifies her more than being alone.

Her boyfriend hasn’t come home since last afternoon. He hasn’t given her any notice nor made any effort to ease her worry. It’s not something new. She’s grown used to it. Maybe Satoru assumed they had remembered and understood each other’s schedules by now, which is true, but still, a message would’ve been nice. 

The last text she received from him was around nine PM when she questioned his whereabouts, growing more worried about the dinner getting cold instead of his nose turning red from the evening breeze. 

Still out with some friends. Don’t wait for me.  - Satoru

She didn’t. The same way he didn’t thank her—or apologize—for the supper she’d taken an hour to prepare. 

I thought you said you’d come straight home after your meeting tonight, she typed down her reply before choosing to erase it. There was no merit to gain from arguing about it. Satoru would never change.

Okay, she responded instead. Be safe.

He left her on read.

Re-reading his dry text message causes her thoughts to drift back to Yuuta, realizing just how different they are even when her mind begs her not to compare. It saddens her that her lover pays no heed to her well-being or her feelings, not taking a minute of his time to check whether she came home safely last night.

While her friend, on the other hand…

“Are you sure you’ll be okay?” Yuuta asked for the nth time that night, still reluctant to bid her goodbye even after he escorted her all the way to the station’s gate. 

“Yuuta, I’ll be all right,” she chuckled. “I’ve taken this subway more than a hundred times already.”

“I know, but after seeing how those guys stared at you…” He exhaled restlessly. “How far is your place from the station?”

“Just a five-minute walk.”

He contemplated, mulling over the risks before he eventually let his muscles unwind. “Okay… But if you feel like there’s someone following you—”

“I’ll tell them, ’Excuse me, Sir, I already have a stalker of my own, and he’ll kill you before you could even lay your hands on me,’” she ended with a gleeful grin.

He pouted. “I’m actually worried, you know.”

“I know.” She replaced her amusement with gratitude this time. “Thank you, Yuuta. Really.”

“Will you, at least, text me when you get home? I need to know you’re safe.”

“I will.”

And she did, punching buttons on her phone screen with a giddy heart, her lips stretching from ear to ear, as soon as she arrived at her apartment.

No stalker in sight, Okkotsu-san. Only you.  PS: Yes, Mom, I’m already home.

To which he responded with, “Thank goodness you’re safe.” No silly remark came from his side, no cute scoldings for her chaff. He was just genuinely concerned and now, relieved. 

It felt… nice to be at the center of someone’s care and attention. She had forgotten that feeling a while ago.

Her phone screen suddenly flashes as she dwells in the memory, notifying her that it’s ten minutes to nine. Yuuta’s name flickers back through her mind. They had promised each other a few days before that they would attend a book festival this morning. The thought of meeting one of her favorite authors and getting her book signed certainly arouses her excitement, but it doesn’t ignite as much sparks as the thought of spending not only a couple of evening hours together but the entire day.

Spending the whole day with Yuuta…

A smile resurfaces on her lips, but she refuses to acknowledge it. 

There’s only an hour to spare before then. I should get going. 

Just as she collects her coat, the front door clicks open. Satoru steps inside with his black shirt unbuttoned nearly halfway to his chest, his tie unfastened, dangling loosely around his neck. As he fumbles around, trying to maintain his balance, he notices her standing near the kitchen counter. “Oh, hey, baby,” he greets her with a drunken smile, his eyes half-lidded. “I’m home.”

“Welcome… back…” She scrutinizes him with a frown. “Satoru, what—are you drunk?” 

He giggles, a clear answer to her question. “Just a little.”

Satoru has always been weak when it comes to alcohol. There were many occasions back in their college days when he ended up doing foolish stunts with liquor in his system, and yet, he never learned. “I thought you promised me you’d never drink again.”

“That is true,” he simpers, teetering toward her spot. “That. Is. True.” He taps a finger against her nose with each word spoken. “But, listen. I was ready to go home after my meeting, but then I remembered, oh yeah, Haibara’s got a new place. And it was close by from where I was, so I thought, you know what, let’s drop by for a while, and so I did. I figured it was only going to be about half an hour or so, but man, he was so happy to see me. You know how he is, right? He’s always happy. Haibara was all like, Dude, we should invite everyone to come and hang with us, and the next thing I knew, a bunch of people came. Shoko was there. Ijichi was there, but fuck Ijichi, nobody cares about him. Anyway, Suguru brought this sake he got from Tohoku, or whatever, and God, baby, it tasted sooooo goooood,” he slurs out the words, leaning his body weight on her as he buries his face in her neck. “I was only planning to stay for a bit, but… couldn’t resist a good sake.” 

“Satoru,” she tries to pry him away, her face scrunching as the revolting scent of alcohol fills her nose. 

“Honey Bunny, please don’t be mad. I only had, like, three glasses, I promise. Or five. Or maybe ten. Shit, I can’t remember,” he chuckles, the sound muffled by her sweater. “This is probably why I shouldn’t drink, huh?”

She’s fighting to stay on her feet, struggling as his weight weighs her down. “Did you get home by yourself? Why didn’t you call me to pick you up?”

“I would’ve, but my phone died,” he nuzzles his nose against her clothed shoulder, acting spoiled to win her mercy. “And no, I didn’t. I got some girl driving me home.”

The news stings her like needles piercing through her skin. She pushes him away by the chest, glaring. “What?”

“Hmm?” He blinks idly. “Oh, no, don’t worry. We didn’t do anything, trust me. I don’t even remember her name. She was the only one with a car, told me she’d drop me at our building, so I hopped in. I didn’t think much about it.” He places a finger below her chin, tilting it up to have her meet his gaze. “What?” Satoru questions, one corner of his mouth rising higher than the other. “You jealous?” 

Is it… really jealousy, she wonders. Or is it just a plain, vibrating anger that emerges from not being respected, appreciated, or seen and remembered by the person who’s supposed to care for her the most? 

“Babe, come on,” Satoru laughs. “I’m a faithful man. You know I am. I’ll never cheat on you.” Dismissing the resentment shimmering in her eyes, he strokes her hair, bending his head down until his smile ghosts over her lips. “And you’ll never cheat on me, too, right, Bunny?”

She freezes. In the split second before he closes the gap between them, her mind tries to understand why his question causes a guilty conscience to swell in her chest. She has neither done nor is planning to do anything like that. Yuuta is just a friend. She should not feel guilty about meeting a friend. No, if there’s anyone who should feel that way around here, it should be Satoru. Just look at him. He easily took a stranger’s invitation to climb into her car and had the nerve to giggle as he told me about it. 

But she can’t deny it—this guilt that’s swirling inside. Her heart still echoes it every time Yuuta’s name passes through her head.

You wouldn’t feel this happy if you were just meeting a friend.

“You’re so cute when you’re jealous,” Satoru traps her chin between his lean fingers. “Wish you could show this side of you more often.”

She throws her face to the side, avoiding her lover’s kiss just in time. “Next time you’re this wasted, Toru,” she maintains her distance, stepping away with a scowl, “call me.”

“I told you, my phone died—”

“I don’t care. Use someone else’s phone. You can’t just get inside a stranger’s car like that. It could’ve been dangerous.” 

Somewhere, deep within the labyrinth of her mind, a voice reminds her how similar, if not worse, her past actions were to what she chastised him of. Going to a coffee shop with a stranger… Spending hours talking, revealing parts of her that she shouldn’t have… Sharing food and laughter, wishing for time to move slower…

I’m a fucking hypocrite.

“Yes, Ma’am,” Satoru sneers, wrapping his arms around her waist. Getting such a reaction out of her seems to delight him as she usually just nods and forgives him for everything, assuming it would take more energy out of her to bicker over it. “Why didn’t you come to the party anyway? Everyone was there.”

It only exhausts her further to push him away when he weighs more than he can handle. She faces the other way, avoiding his breath as much as possible. “I didn’t get any invitation.”

“What? But I sent you one.” He furrows his brows, trying to remember. “Wait… I did, didn’t I? I swear I texted you.”

“You didn’t even tell me you had plans after the meeting. I prepared dinner for you.”

“Oh, well.” He leans backward a little to give her a playful pinch on her cheek. “Guess we’re a bit lacking in that department, huh? Communicating, I mean. It’s been a while since we last talked. How are you, baby? What is my little kitten up to these days?”

To have her boyfriend finally paying attention to her after so long should delight her, but she feels nothing, knowing that he won’t take any information into his head in this condition. It will be a waste of time for them both.

And I have no time to waste, not right now.

“You need to catch some sleep.” She places a hand on his chest, sighing. “We’ll talk after you sober up.” 

“I’m not that drunk—”

“Rest, Satoru,” she stresses firmly, trying to keep the sound of her impatience to a minimum. Stepping away, she turns around to collect her things from the counter. “I’ve made you some French toast and eggs for breakfast. They’re on the table. There’s plenty of food for lunch in the fridge, too. You can just heat them up later.” Slinging her purse on one shoulder, she gathers her key. “I’m heading out. I’ll see you later.”

“Wait, where are you going?” He catches her hand, tugging her body back toward him. “It’s the weekend, isn’t it? What are you in such a rush for?”

His question brings her to a halt. She knows she’s in haste since she’s running out of time, but is she so eager to get away from him to meet another man, one that her boyfriend has specifically mentioned to stay away from? 

“I’m—” She clears her throat, shredding the thoughts to pieces. “I’m not rushing.”

“Are you meeting someone?”

“No,” she lies, and it shocks her how fast and how easily it slips out of her mouth before her mind can decide. She shouldn’t have lied. There was no reason to lie. Why did I lie? She wants to correct it, but taking it back now will only make her sound… suspicious.

“W-what?” She asks out of agitation as she catches him staring down at her, examining her as best as his inebriated state allows him to. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Something’s different about you today,” he replies, crossing the distance between them. “Is it…” He investigates with unfocused eyes, too sleepy and intoxicated to process quickly. “Is it your hair? Did you cut it?”

“Umm… Yeah, I did.”

“Aha!” He exclaims, almost victoriously. “Don’t think I didn’t notice it. When?”

“Four days ago.” She’s grown used to this, too, to have the changes in her appearance—the changes in her world—remainunnoted in his eyes. The reason why he finally realizes the difference today is because she’s styled it differently. 

Instead of letting her hair brushed and tied up in a simple bun, she decided to put more effort into it this morning. Taking inspiration from her appearance in her dreams, she wore half of her hair down and weaved the rest of her strands together, forming two lace braids that circled her head like a crown while the rest cascaded gracefully past her shoulders. Just like on the night when she shared a kiss with the beautiful boy by the beach, she completed the look with a kanzashi her mother gave her, a golden ornament in the shape of cherry blossom petals. She felt pleased seeing her reflection in the bathroom mirror, admitting to herself that this style suited her better than her usual one. A certain charm exuded out of her, a sense of femininity that she never bothered to showcase before. 

“I’m trying on a new hairstyle,” she says. “What do you think? Does it suit me?”

“Hmm…” He squints his eyes, folding his arms over his chest. “Fuck, I can’t remember what your hair looked like before,” he gives up with a laugh. “It doesn’t look bad, don’t worry. I like the hairpin. And your dress… You look nice.”

She doubts he means it this way, but in her ears, just now, Satoru sounded as if he was asking who are you dressing up so nicely for? “Thanks,” she replies awkwardly, dropping her gaze to the floor. “This is how I usually dress, though.”

“Really?” He steps forward, cornering her against the kitchen counter as he parades his smirk. “Then, I should’ve appreciated you much sooner.” Burying his face in her neck, he has his hands roaming her sides, sliding down from her waist to her thigh. “And you smell so good…”

“Satoru.” She lands her grip on his shoulders when he bends down to pick her up, trying her best to halt his movements, but to no avail. He places her on the counter, his movements still wobbly but sure and forceful enough when he pries her legs open for him. “No, wait—”

“Pretty.” He takes possession of her mouth, his hand holding her firmly by the back of her neck. “You look so fucking pretty today, baby.”

“Stop—mmph—” With her protest being swallowed by his kiss, she resorts to using her strength, placing both palms on his chest, trying to push him away as much as she can. But it only excites him, thinking of it as a little game. 

“You’re fighting back? That’s hot,” he chuckles lowly. His desire to control and consume her paints a new shade to his hazy eyes. “Do your best, Bunny. Be rough with me.” 

He takes it as a challenge, more lust brimming in his stare, more bites in his drunken kisses. With his mouth latching against her throat—wet, hot, and needy—Satoru pushes her dress until it pools around her stomach. He catches her skin between his teeth, nibbling, sucking; the alcohol in his system makes him dismiss any sign of her discomfort and turns it into fuel for his desires, forcing him to focus only on what his body craves. 

“Toru—” She cringes in pain, her nails sinking into the back of his shirt. “That hurts!”

“Yeah? What should I do, then?” He pins her hands down against the marble, licking on the bruise. “Want me to be gentle?” Satoru distances himself just enough to let her breathe. His kiss may have turned soft, but he keeps his hand around her throat, his palm pressed against her front, ignoring the way she swallows heavily under his touch. “All right. I’ll be gentle.” He speaks his empty promises with his smirk returning to his face, his tongue peeking out to run across his lip as he takes in her flustered, breathless look. “I’ll be so gentle with you.” He spreads her thighs apart. “Do it nice and slow.” He grinds his hips against her, watching the way his zipper rubs against the thinness of her underwear. “I’ll do it just how you like it.” 

Her stomach twists and turns. She doesn’t want to admit it, but it feels so much like… fear.

“I-I have to go,” she tosses her head to the side, trying to seek a way out as her panic inflates rapidly. “I need to—”

“It can wait,” he growls, his thumb dragging her chin down before he smashes their lips together, tasting her as he pleases, owning her as if he weren’t the one who’s been neglecting her for the past few weeks. The kiss is all the chance he gives her to get accustomed to his advances, and it only lasts for a mere five seconds before he starts working on his belt. 

She’s scared. Terrified, knowing that it will hurt. They hadn’t gotten together in weeks, and even with enough foreplay—from his point of view, that is—it still feels painful sometimes. “S-Satoru,” she struggles, pushing him away with her heart rising to her throat. “Please, stop—”

Then he does, much to her relief. 

But not for her sake.

“I can’t get hard…” he mumbles rather drowsily, followed by a peal of laughter. “Well, that’s embarrassing. Probably because I drank too much.”

Quivers remain in her fingers, but the air feels less suffocating to breathe in now. “You… You should rest,” she whispers shakily. 

“Yeah…” He separates himself from her, unsteadily walking toward the living room, oblivious to what he has caused. He crashes face-first on the couch, groaning out, “Ugh, can you get me some aspirin? My head’s killing me.”

With her palm pressed over her chest, her heart continues to beat wildly despite her attempt to tame it down. “Okay…” She slides off the counter, her legs feeling like jelly when she returns to the floor. Ignoring the unnerving feelings that still linger, she focuses on providing him with what he needs. 

Satoru thanks her with a grunt, popping two pills inside his mouth and flushing them down with water. 

She takes a seat on the end of the couch where he rests his feet, her fists clenched tightly on her lap. “H-How are you feeling?” 

“Like I’m dying,” her boyfriend, with one hand draped over his eyes as he lies down, replies with a hum. “But I think I’m sobering up a little bit.”

She watches him closely, her thoughts branching in a thousand different ways. A part of her still reels in the fear from the previous moment. Another side—one that holds a soft spot for him—begs her to forgive him and grant him a moment to collect himself. The rest of her urges her to leave, her eyes darting toward the clock on the wall more than necessary. She’s running late.

I have to go, but… How should I tell him? “Satoru—”

“I’m sorry.”

She turns still. “W-what?”

“I’m sorry,” Satoru repeats heavily, his eyes trailing their way back to hers. “For not telling you where I went last night. I should’ve. And I shouldn’t have drunk so much after I promised you I’d take better care of myself. And also… Sorry for almost forcing myself on you. Should’ve stopped when you said no. I don’t know why I didn’t. I’m sorry.”

His words stun her enough that it deprives her of her breath. Despite how immature he could be, Satoru always apologizes when he makes mistakes—she just didn’t expect it to come so soon. But instead of giving her the sense of peace she desperately needs, it only adds to her already overflowing guilt. Here he is, tossing his selfishness aside and asking for her forgiveness despite still having the world spin before his eyes, while she, on the other hand, is busy thinking about her friend and the wonderful time they’re going to spend together instead of offering to take care of her lover.

“It’s…” She wets her lips. “It’s all right. You’re drunk. You weren’t being yourself.”

“That’s not an excuse.” Though his eyes remain hazy, the mischievous grin, his flirtatious smirk, everything has been washed away from his face without a trace. “Next time I do something like that, punch me in the face or something. I’d rather have a broken nose than find myself hurting you like that.”

She swallows, her stomach twisting under his heavy stare. “Okay…”

Satisfied with her answer, Satoru throws his head back, massaging his temple. “You said you had to go somewhere today?”

“Umm… yes.”

“Where?”

“Jimbocho. There’s a… book festival I want to visit there. One of my favorite authors is attending. I’m trying to get my book signed.”

“That’s cool. You’re going there by yourself?”

Her fingers twitch before she curls them tighter into fists. She takes a deep breath and confesses, “No, with a friend.”

“Who?”

“The… guy from the library.”

Her words, almost instantly, change the atmosphere between them and paint his eyes dark. “I thought I already told you not to get too close to him.” 

Had he said that a moment ago when she was still vexed by his drunk antics with a random woman he met at a party, she would’ve fought back with poison lacing her tongue. But now, as her legs still tremble from what nearly happened, her heart conflicted with the apology he just uttered, she can only chew on her lip, not having any strength left to cross swords. “We’re just friends.”

The more she repeats the word friend, the more gasoline she pours onto the shimmering flame inside him. “He invited you to go with him, didn’t he? Just the two of you together.”

Her chest tightens. Satoru managed to guess the big picture, but the details are even worse than that.  

“Hey, do you know they’re holding a book festival in Jimbocho this weekend?”

“Really?” Her eyes flickered away from the passage she was reading, returning to the pair of sapphires that always felt like home. She brimmed with interest, sticking a bookmark between the pages to give him her full attention.“This weekend? I haven’t heard anything about it.” 

“Well then, I have a surprise for you.” Yuuta, with a smile radiant enough to surpass the stars, slid a flyer down the coffee table that separated them. Among the fancy words written on the glossy paper, her eyes captured a string of letters forming the same name as the one embossed on the cover of the novel she was holding. “Kawakami-sensei will be holding a meet and greet session in the afternoon, so if you go there, you can have your book signed and—”

“No way!” She snatched the flyer with passion bursting from each fingertip, her eyes turning round, moving from one sentence to another as she skimmed over the details. Yuuta laughed a little to himself, warmth filling his gaze as he watched her body tremble with excitement.“Wait, Murata-sensei is going to be there, too? Yuuta, this list is insane!”

“I know,” he chuckled. “So, what do you think? Do you want to go with me?”

“Are you kidding? Of course, I'd love to—” She stopped as she skated over a certain line, her shoulders sagging almost right after. “Oh, no…”

“What?”

“It says here that they have limited seats for Kawakami-sensei’s session. It’s in two days. Do you think we still have time to reserve some seats?”

“You’re right, probably not,” he sighed, matching her disappointment. “But we can still try, and make a call. There should be a phone number somewhere in the flyer.”

“Yeah, I found it. Hold on.” She rummaged through her purse with feverish haste, punching numbers into her screen the second she found her phone. “Dear Gods in heaven, please just grant me this one wish, and I’ll give you the biggest mochi that ever existed as an offering.”

“That’s quite extravagant for a bribe,” he commented in amusement.

“Shut up. Wish me luck.” 

“Mm. Good luck.”

It didn’t take long before her line was connected, and it took her an even shorter amount of time for their rejection to ring through her ears and cut all the threads that carried her hopes afloat. Like a child deprived of her chance to visit her fantasy land, she sank back into her seat, tossing her phone carelessly to the table. “Seats are full. Damn it.” She tossed her head back, groaning, “Ugh, I was so excited about it. This is the worst day of my life.”

“Oh, no,” he commented, surprisingly, with one corner of his mouth twitching into a smile.

“What?” She questioned, knitting her eyebrows together. “What are you smirking about?”

“Nothing,” he grins a little wider as he rises to his feet. He pushes his arms through the sleeves of his coat, fixing his collar as his face glows with amusement. “I’m just picturing how you’ll look like after spending ten hours on the train trying to get that mochi. You know the biggest one is in Iwate, right? That’s five hundred kilometers away from here.”

“Yuuta, what are you talking about—”

He slid another piece of paper down the table, smaller in size but thicker. She picked it up with a frown before her eyes widened in disbelief. “You… You got us the tickets.”

“I got you your ticket,” he corrected with a smile. “There was only one seat left when I made the call. Thank goodness I wasn’t too late.”

She jumped back to her feet, pushing the ticket toward his chest. “You should have it, then!”

His hand, cold yet gentle, covered her own, his smile melting into a softer one. “No,” he guides her fingers to close around the paper. “I want you to have it.”

“But… You like her work as much as I do.”

“There will be another chance, I’m sure,” he assured her, releasing her hand despite his entire being begging him not to. “I’ll spend some time wandering around the area, and I’ll meet you back at the venue when you’re done. After that, we can have lunch together. There's this great Chinese restaurant not far away from there. I’ll treat you to some dumplings. What do you think?”

It was as if he owned the map that led him straight into her heart, bathing it with joy over and over again with every word and action he made. “That sounds perfect,” she breathed out in delight, her eyes crinkling on the edges. “Thank you, Yuuta.”

And she knew her gratitude could never repay the kindness he’d bestowed upon her, but to him, it was everything he could ever ask for. 

“The pleasure is all mine.”

Telling Satoru the truth about what happened would end in a fight, she knows that for certain. “No, he didn’t invite me,” she answers, doing her best to remain unfaltering under Satoru's scrutinizing gaze. “I mentioned the event in passing when I met him at the library, and he said he wanted to check it out, too, so we… decided to go together, that’s all.”

A lie, one after another, and it sickens her to her bones, but what else can she say? 

The pregnant pause that follows feels suffocating to her, and she wonders if it’s because Satoru, even in this state, can sense something in her words. 

“Does he know about me?”

She knows the real question he’s asking: Does he know you belong to me?

“Yes. I’ve mentioned your name a few times.”

It doesn’t provide the assurance she wished for, but it elevates his ego just enough. “Good. This still pisses me off somehow, but I was a dick to you today, so…” He exhales, holding her gaze. “I trust you. You know what that means, right?”

She clenches her jaw. Those words are not born out of jealousy. This is him reminding her who owns her. “Of course.”

“All right. A book festival, huh?” he snorts. “Sounds like a party. Have fun.”

His tone irks her, but she doesn’t comment on it, not out loud. “I’ll be home before dinner.”

Satoru rolls himself to his side, snagging the throw blanket on the couch to cover his body. “Remember to tell Not Ugly Guy to keep his hands to himself.” 

He flaunts his irritation like a child, but that’s the only thing he does. He could’ve said those words to Yuuta himself if he had cared enough. He could’ve told her, “Hey, you know what? Why don’t we go together instead?” and held her hand like a lover would instead of handing her over to another man and sulking all day about it. But he doesn’t do any of that, does he? He doesn’t even care enough to walk her to the front door. He chooses to drown in his anger instead of kissing her goodbye. 

Satoru knows when he makes mistakes, and he takes responsibility for them. It’s the bare minimum a person can expect from a lover, but she appreciates that still. But this… This is the one thing he will never change about himself. His immaturity sticks to him like glue no matter how many years have passed between them.

If Yuuta were in his shoes, he would’ve—

No, she warns herself. Stop it. I’m being unfair to him. How would I feel if he started comparing me to another woman? 

There’s no point in thinking about it now. Satoru will never change. 

I just need to learn to accept him the way he is.

The way she’s always been for the last six years.  ***

“Hey,” Yuuta greets her with a smile rivaling heaven’s golden hue. He arrives at the same moment she’s tangling her fingers around the door handle, one foot ready to enter the coffee shop they’d agreed to meet at before they proceed to the venue together. 

She stiffens in surprise, mostly because she thought he was already inside with a cup of black coffee brewing in his hand—though a part of her doubts that he would, knowing how Yuuta would always prefer to wait for her before ordering anything, not wanting her to feel like he’d been waiting a long time for her arrival. He’d always ensure she was taken care of first, double-checking her order and running to the cashier to get it ready. She remembers how he does that in the library, too. Yuuta would never have his nose stuck between the pages if she weren’t there, afraid he'd fail to notice her walking into the room if he was drowning too far in his book. Only after she started reading her novel would he begin to indulge himself with his choice for the day.

“Good morning,” he beams, eyes thinning into half-moons. He’s holding his coat in his arm, looking effortlessly gorgeous in a black shirt that matches his raven hair. He’s out of breath, his forehead slick with beads of sweat that threaten to fall off his chin. “Thank goodness, you just arrived. I was worried I kept you waiting. Wait, let me hold that for you.” He opens the door for her, welcoming her in. 

“Thank you.” Her heart feels light, more of his presence than just his courtesy. “Did you run on your way here?”

“Yeah,” he chuckles bashfully. “My apartment is nearby, and it usually took me fifteen minutes of walking to get here, but my cat made a mess, so I had to see my landlord and—” He stops himself, shaking his head. “Sorry, I’m rambling.”

“No, please, continue. I want to hear what happened.” Embraced by the warmth provided by the heaters in the room, she takes off her beanie as she steps further inside. “And I wouldn’t have minded waiting for you, you know.”

“No, I would’ve felt awful if I had kept you wai…” He stands still, lips parted in what seems to be awe the second he sees her hair. “…ting…” 

There’s something written in his gaze, one that seems similar to the nostalgic feeling of meeting someone from the past. Not understanding why he’d feel that way, she assumes she read him wrong. His pretty eyes turn big and round as he gapes at her, utterly lost for words. “You… Your hair…”

“Huh? Oh, umm, yes.” She rakes her fingers over her strands, growing self-conscious. “I’m trying a different style. Does it look weir—”

“Perfect,” his compliment reverberates in the air before she can finish her sentence, his gaze, his heart, his soul enraptured. “You look… perfect.”

She can’t deny how much joy these little words bring. She feels appreciated. Satisfied. As if all the effort she’d put into styling her hair was for his sake and not for her own comfort. Yuuta runs his eyes over every detail, staring at her with such a longing gaze. His hand twitches, and for a brief moment, she thinks that he’s going to reach out to caress her strands, to give another praise, but through his touch, to make sure that she isn’t a dream even when she appears like one. 

He notices it at the same time, it seems, as he suddenly throws his gaze to the ground, his fingers clenching into a fist to stop him from doing what his heart begs him to do. 

“Y-you look amazing before, but—” He shyly looks at her again, smiling a little. “This suits you even better.”

The heat in her chest rises to her cheeks. Abashed, she tucks a few loose strands of hair behind her ear, exposing a glimpse of the supple skin on the side of her neck. Thanking him for the kind words, she walks forward, her heart dancing out of beat. She expects him to walk by her side, but Yuuta is still trapped in the same place, standing still like a statue.

Only this time, darkness resides in his gaze. 

“Yuuta?” 

He blinks once, his stare returning to hers. They turn gentle once more, crinkling on the edges as his mouth twitches in a smile. “Hmm?”

He switches back so fast that she wonders if it was all happening only in her head. She may have imagined the look in his eyes, but she was sure she had seen him staring before. What was he looking at? She asks herself, recalling how his gaze dropped down to her neck. Was it my necklace? My collar? She fixes it, just in case. “Is there something wrong?”

“No,” he smiles, but it’s the kind that leaves her queasy. The one that does not reach his eyes. He strides forward, asking, “So, matcha latte with oat milk like usual?” 

“Umm, yeah.” 

“Got it. Take a seat. I’ll order it for you.”

“Thank… you.” She walks separately with a frown, ruminating to herself as she finds an empty table for two. It’s not apparent, but there’s definitely a change in his behavior.

And if she had known him well as much as she knew Satoru, she’d realize that even though his words might come across as warm… 

They reeked of jealousy.

Later that day, as she ties her hair up in a bun and brushes her teeth, she catches a splotch of dark bruise on her skin. It blooms purple on her neck, terrible enough for anyone who saw it to wonder how painful it must have been when she got it. It didn’t show when she wore her hair down earlier, perfectly hidden by her strands, but when she wears it up like this… or has them pushed aside…

Staring wide-eyed at her reflection in the mirror, her heart plummets to her stomach as her realization sinks in. 

He must have seen it.

She’s ashamed, feeling like she just shattered the proper image of her in his mind—if there was even one to begin with. What will he think of me? She ponders, biting the nail of her thumb in her agitation. The thought of him perceiving her as a licentious woman who enjoys parading her lover’s kiss marks, wearing them as a badge of honor in public like that, terrifies her. She doesn’t want him to misunderstand or see her differently.

That following night, she can’t seem to draw her eyes to a close. The thought worries her so terribly that it chases her sleep away. But why does she care so much about what he thinks of her? No, more than that, why does it feel like… cheating? Not on Satoru, but on him. There’s this guilt that swells inside her, something similar to how she feels whenever Satoru questions her about him, only it’s worse. A million times worse. It almost feels like an act of betrayal, as if she was having a filthy affair behind his back with a man who knew how to hold her body but never her heart. 

It’s such a ridiculous thought, but she can’t find herself laughing.

She sighs, realizing that in a matter of minutes, the sun will glow golden outside her walls, and she’ll have to face him again. Yuuta is a gentleman. He’ll never ask her about it, even if he had a thousand questions sprouting in his head. 

Maybe I should just let it go and pretend he didn’t see it.

Easier said than done. Her chagrin and awkwardness still linger in her gestures when she greets him a few hours later, but Yuuta, despite looking like he couldn’t lie to save his life, wears his pretense perfectly. He acts the same way as usual, smiling and enjoying his endless conversations with her, doing it so well, that she begins to think…  Maybe he didn’t see it.

Or he did, but… he just doesn’t care.

And that thought hurts her more than the way Satoru sank his teeth into her skin.

Her hand absentmindedly finds its way back to the scarf she has wrapped around her neck, her lips itching to say, it’s not what you think; he forced it on me, but she remembers she has no reason to. Yuuta is just a stranger she met a few weeks ago. There’s no need to explain or apologize, no matter how much her heart wants to. It would’ve been weird if she did.

“Yuuta.”

“Yes?”

“Wanna go get some crepes before we go home?”

He brightens, fireworks in his eyes. “Sure!”  ***

From the first day she encountered the handsome stranger in the library, she always fell asleep with her heart fluttering. It almost feels like she’s a little girl, excited over her upcoming journey to the unknown. That’s what it is essentially, isn’t it? Every time she closes her lids and sinks deep into her slumber, she’ll wake up somewhere new, somewhere different, but what matters the most is that she will always, always wake up to his smile. It’s only right for her to be thrilled. After all, her dreams of him are always the sweetest ones.

Last night’s dream started with her walking down the street, stopping right before an intersection. As she looked around, her gaze stretching far across from where she was, she spotted the man for whom her heart longed, walking down the road that would lead him to her. She broke into her biggest smile, her hand raised high in the air, waving to gain his attention from behind the passing cars. She couldn’t wait for the lights to turn green. She wanted to run to him, to fall into his arms, to meet his lips with her own.

As the dream version of her drowned in the sweet fantasy of their reunion, her real self used the chance to collect all the details. She was still in Tokyo, she realized. The city—bright, colorful, and a hundred years younger—remained the same as it was in her last vision, still struggling to discover its identity by maintaining its traditional aspects while absorbing Western influence into its pores. Yuuta’s attire, however, was the perfect balance of that, with a white, collarless button-down shirt layered by an iron grey kimono, hakama bottoms that were a shade lighter, waraji sandals, and a dark flat cap to complete the look. 

The young man caught her gaze from across the street, surprise overtaking his face before it instantly brightened as if she breathed more life into him, only with a simple curve of her lips. “Stay there,” he mouthed. “I’ll come to you!”

She nodded, her heart beating fast in the novelty of a first love.

Yuuta crossed the road in haste the second the lights changed, his mind focusing solely on her presence that he didn’t bat an eyelash when the wind swiftly stole his hat away and knocked it over to the ground. A few disturbed pedestrians cursed at him when his shoulder brushed against theirs inadvertently. His legs continued to run as he uttered his apology, only coming to a halt once he crushed himself against her in a tight hug. With the biggest grin, he lifted her off the ground, twirling her once while they basked in the elation of reuniting with each other. They softened each other’s gleeful giggles with a sweet kiss, one that lasted only a mere second despite their wish to continue. Had there been no witnesses, they would’ve spent an eternity just drowning in their passion for each other.

“You surprised me!” he exclaimed, breathless from the euphoria running through his bloodstream. “I didn’t think I’d see you here. I was going to pick you up from work. I thought you’d be ready by five like always.” He checked on the ticking watch circled around his wrist. “There’s still half an hour till then. Why aren’t you in the library?”

“Why are you already here, then, if there’s still half an hour on the clock?” 

“Oh, umm…” He threw his gaze to the pavement, rubbing the back of his head as he turned shy. “I couldn’t stay still at the office. I kept thinking about you, and I just…” He slowly returned his gaze to hers. “I wanted to see you as soon as I could…”

Her heart soared and melted at the same time. “This is embarrassing for me to admit, but… I felt the same way. I missed you so terribly that I kept rereading the same page. Gakuganji-sensei told me I could leave early if I wanted to—I think he could tell my mind was elsewhere. I knew there was still time until you arrived, but I couldn’t wait any longer in that library, so I thought I’d meet you halfway. And maybe then we could spend half an hour longer with each other.”

Yuuta’s sparkly eyes turned round as he listened. “You… thought that…?”

“Yes,” she admitted with a bashful smile. “Don’t start crying now.”

“I won’t,” he sniffled, making her laugh. “Come here.” He pulled her into his embrace again, where she belonged, his arms tenderly enveloping her this time. “Maybe I should leave my office early every day so we’ll have more time together. Another half an hour longer with you… I’d love that.”

“I don’t think neither of us should make that a habit, but,” she tittered. “I’d love that, too.”

They traded smiles, her face scrunching adorably when he playfully rubbed the tip of their noses together. 

“God, I’ve missed you,” he sighed, cradling her head close and burying his face in her strands. “I’ve spent every waking hour thinking about you, Sweetheart. These last four days felt like torture without you.”

The butterflies in her stomach fluttered their wings. “Me too.”

“I missed you,” he repeated. “I missed you so much.” Romance laid thick in the kisses he peppered down from her temple, her cheek, her nose, but when he heard her giggling from it, he nuzzled his face to her neck, tickling her further until she chortled out loud.

“Stop,” she laughed, placing a hand on his chest. “We’re in public.”

“Can we go somewhere private, then?”

She narrowed her eyes. “I believe it’s too early for us to act so indecently, Okkotsu-sama.”

“No, I—” He blushed. “I meant to talk. I have something I want to tell you. It’s good news.”

“What is it?”

He smiled, his hand sliding down to fill the spaces between her fingers.“Let’s go somewhere nice first.”

***

With their hearts intertwined and her dress swaying with every step taken, they walked down a path together. Crafted by a romantic hand, the sunset blossomed red and gold before them, a sweet caress of warmth to their cheeks amid the cool autumn breeze. They arrived at a lush park teeming with vibrant flowers and plants that were beautiful and fragrant. The leaves had not changed hues yet, but it would only be a matter of time before they colored the soil gold and scarlet. 

A large fountain rested at its heart, confined by a ring of stones and concretes. The sound of water cascading, the shimmering reflection of light, and the beauty of the surrounding landscape had captivated the hearts of many, including their own, no matter how often they had visited the place in the past. It was there that they could be granted a moment of serenity, away from the briskness of the city.

They sat next to each other on the edge of the fountain, with her tilting her head in curiosity as he rummaged the insides of his bag. To her surprise, he presented her with a book, its thick weight unfamiliar when she held it between her hands. But once her eyes skated over the title and the author’s name, her stomach flipped.

It was Revival by Saori.

“T-this is—” Her jaw turned slack, searching for words. “Yuuta—”

“I did it,” he grinned. “I built your dream company.”

Her joy engulfed her so fast, so intense, she found herself jumping into his arms. He giggled endearingly at her reaction, his hands winding around her waist in reflex. With her hands circled around his neck and their hearts beating against one another, she whispered his name amid her gratitude in a voice laced with her upcoming tears. 

“Are you crying?” She shook her head no despite her eyes growing hot. He laughed softly in return, rubbing her head in return. “Don’t cry. Be happy for me.”

“I am happy. That’s why I’m crying.”

“I thought you said you weren’t crying.”

She landed a weak punch on his chest in return, feeling the vibration of his laughter against her cheek as she buried her face further in his warmth. “Wanna hear about our progress so far?”

Though enthusiastic about it, she could only nod in response, her lips still quivering from her tears. Yuuta smiled, telling his story as he continued to stroke her hair, a habit born out of his adoration.

“We’ve managed to sign a deal with six different authors. They’ve sent us a bunch of manuscripts—all of them are very interesting, and I honestly can’t wait for you to read everything. We’ve assigned some editors to work closely with them, and we’ll make sure to keep the authenticity of their works as best as possible. As of now, we have eight books we’re planning to release in the following months; three of them are from Saori-sensei. I know eight books are nothing compared to what other publishers release in a year, but… It’s a start. And you’re right. Seeing the joy on these authors’ faces when we give their stories a chance… It’s so fulfilling.”

She had a million things to say, yet she couldn’t say anything at all. Her chest felt so full that it left her breathless. “Words cannot express just how proud I am of you, Yuuta,” she curled her fingers around the back of his kimono, sinking her face into the crook of his neck as she struggled to blink back her tears. “I wish I could compose a better compliment, but… You’re amazing. Your bravery, your hard work, your resilience—I admire you so much.”

She might think that these words were far from enough to cheer his soul, but to him, they were everything he wanted to hear and more. “Thank you,” he whispered, brushing a kiss upon her temple. “This is all because of you.” She shook her head in disagreement. “No, really. I wouldn’t have done any of this if you didn’t give me the idea and motivation. You made this happen.”

She sobbed a little harder, stealing another chuckle out of him. “If you don’t believe me,” Yuuta splayed the book open on her lap, flipping the book’s first few pages. “Here. Look, even she thought so.”

She stopped breathing. There, written on the page before the first chapter began, was her name. Out of all the people to whom Saori could dedicate this book, she chose her. The author thanked her for making her dream come true, for giving her a chance and relight the hope she had once lost.

“Did… Did you ask her to write this?”

“No.”

“But you told her about me.”

“Uhh…” He winced. “A little bit.”

She shut the book closed. “Yuuta!”

“I just wanted her to know that this all happened because of you.” His eyes drooped as he pouted. “Was that.. something I shouldn’t have done?”

“No, it’s just… I feel embarrassed.” And happy. So happy, she felt tears prickling in the corner of her eyes again. “But this isn’t right. She should’ve been thanking you.”

“Hmm, I don’t know. Looks like she wrote down the right name to me,” Yuuta grinned rather cheekily, lightly bumping his shoulder against hers. “If I were her, I would’ve written down your name, too.”

Though she couldn’t accept the appreciation just yet, she focused on what mattered. Wiping her tears away, she asked, “Just how did you get your father to agree to this?”

“It surely wasn’t easy at first. I had to come up with a bunch of different business plans, trying to find one that piqued his interest. It took me months to convince him, but he eventually agreed. What surprised me was that he also agreed to fund my company and let me run the business all by myself. Maybe this is his way of testing me since I was being really stubborn about making a company for myself, and if it is, then I’ll take it as a challenge. It’s frightening and exciting at the same time to be in this position. I like it. I feel like I’m finally starting a new chapter in my life.”

Watching him suffused with so much jubilation brought her the same joy. She pressed a hand over his cheek, her thumb caressing his cheekbone. “I know you’ll do well,” she said with a pretty bow of her lips. “I’m sure of it.”

Yuuta angled his face to brush a tender kiss against her palm. “I know it took me almost a year to get to this point, and I’m sorry for making you wait so long. I was really worried that I’d run out of time to fulfill my promise to you, but… Thank goodness I made it just in time.”

“I would’ve given you all the time in the world, Yuu. There was no need for you to rush.” She pulled away, resting her palms on his chest. “I still can’t believe this is happening… You never mentioned anything about this, and I was always too scared to ask. I thought you’d forgotten about it and chose to do something else.” 

“How could I forget about it? It’s your dream, isn’t it?” He pushed her hair out of her eyes with the gentlest caress of his fingertips. “And what follows after that… is my dream.”

If there was one thing in the world I wished of you… It’s for you to marry me.

Her heart hammered against her ribcages as though it was trying to find a way to escape. “Yuuta—”

“You said you would’ve given me all the time in the world, but Sweetheart, I don’t want that,” he sighed, yearning in his eyes, the kind that she imagined Saori aimed to portray in her book. “I don’t want to wait anymore. I want to hear your answer to my proposal. I want to know if you’ll… marry me…”

With his voice sweeter than a siren’s call, his intention so pure with nothing but affection in his heart, just how could anyone resist him? To decline his proposal would’ve been foolish of her—and she never wanted to. Every fiber of her being wanted him, needed him, loved himthe same way. Had she made a name for herself, something that could make her feel worthy to stand by his side, she would’ve stated her eternal vows right here, right then, to promise him that she’d love him until her dying breath, but— 

Your father must be ecstatic to learn how his little, obedient son wastes his time with a commoner.

Naoya Zenin’s honeyed yet sickening voice, filled with nothing but mockery and disdain, echoed through her mind, snapping away all threads of hope and keeping her bound to the ground—reminding her of the reality that they did not belong in the same world.

“Yuuta…” She cast her gaze to the side. She was unsure what to say to him. Knowing him and how stubborn he could be to achieve his goal, she could tell he’d dismiss the differences in their status in a heartbeat, but what about everyone else in his life? What about his father? She hadn’t gotten the chance to meet him yet, but the way Naoya mentioned him… 

I need to find an excuse. “Don’t you think we’re… too young to be married?”

He blinked once before scarlet painted over his cheeks. “W-we don’t have to do it right now! I know there are still things you want to do before you settle down, and I won’t rob that away from you, but…” He wetted his lips, restless. “I just—I want you to know that when I asked you to be my lover, this has been my intention from the start. I never dreamed of a fleeting romance. I want something that lasts, and I had never wanted to have anything like that with anyone until I met you. After knowing what it feels like to be with you, to be the happiest version of myself, I feel I can’t live without you anymore. It’s frightening to even think about parting with you for a second. It pains me every time we say goodbye, and I wish I never had to say that to you ever again. That’s why I want to marry you. I want to spend the rest of my life with you, each and every second of it. And I wish you’d feel the same way, too.”

She had her hand pressed against her chest, fingers curling as the same thought occurred in her mind, the same thought she wished she could profess out loud so he’d know she yearned for him just the same. “But.. What would your father think of me?” She finally spoke the truth.

He witnessed the crestfallen look she’d been trying to conceal. He leaned in close, taking her hand away from her heart. “I know you’re scared,” he intertwined their fingers together, kissing the back of her hand. “And I am, too. But we both thought my father would disagree with me about building my own company, and yet, he didn’t. Not only that, he has also become my main shareholder now. I wouldn’t have gone this far without his help.”

She gazed away. “I don’t think we can put our hopes based on that, Yuu…”

Sadness fleeted across his face, and it crushed her heart, but she had to say it to put a stop to his naivety before it was too late. He rested their joined hands on his lap, his voice quiet when he asked, “Is there any part of you that wishes to marry me?”

“Yes,” she said, without a second to waste. “Yuuta, every part of me wishes to marry you.”

He spun his head toward her, taking every detail of her expression. The tears that brimmed in her eyes, how she looked back at him… His heart swelled in joy, tugging on her hand until she fell back into his arms. 

“That’s enough,” he breathed in relief, his lids shutting in bliss as his lips hovered above her shoulder. “To hear that you want to marry me, too—that’s more than enough for me. This is the happiest I’ve ever been…” He tightened his embrace. “Thank you…”

Her heart shattered. “Yuuta—”

“I beg you,” he cut her off quickly with a broken voice. “Please… Let’s hold on to those feelings for now. Don’t think too much about the future, don’t think about anything else, just focus on what you want to do with me. Just… listen to what your heart tells you to, the same way I listen to mine. Please…”

With those words digging their way into her heart, she found no strength to fight. He won. All the battles raging inside her, all these thoughts begging her to distance herself before time could hurt them, he chased them all away. It was easy, so easy to give in when all pieces of her soul craved for it, too. 

“Just believe in us,” Yuuta whispered, before he added with a shy chuckle, “Love will find a way. Isn’t that what they say?”

She blinked back her tears, finding herself smiling just the same. It sounded too good to be true, but she chose to believe in it—no, she chose to believe in him. She knew, one way or another, he would find a way for them to be together. Whatever path he took, no matter where it’d lead them, she’d walk it with him if it meant she never had to let go of his hand.

A small space stood between them, a space that, judging from the way his eyes fell onto her lips, he longed to replace with a kiss. “C-can I be selfish and ask for one more present?”

Witnessing how his cheeks bloomed in the same shade of the red tulips flourishing around them, she knew the perfect way to answer him. She slid her hands in a graceful dance up his chest, her eyes drooping as she leaned in close. A whisper of “Yes” fell upon his lips, followed right after by the perfect kiss.

Perfect, until she wakes up. ***

[mullermilkshake]

Sukuna’s proposal

Yakuza!Sukuna x Fem!reader

MINORS DNI - Tags: Yakuza AU, fem reader, knives, blood, graphic depictions of violence, references to non-con, stabbing, potential death, gun use, fighting, risk of death/murder, threats of violence, marriage proposal.

Shinjuku - 1982…

Mr Nanami called your name from his office, "Can you come in here please?"

"Is everything alright?" for the first time since you started this job, Kento Nanami showed a concerned look across his face.

"I have someone incredibly important coming and I have to be upfront with you," he offered up the chair across from his desk and allowed you to sit. "To be honest, I thought you would have left by now."

Was he questioning your professionalism? You had been there a few months and he hadn't uttered a word. "How so?"

"Well this sort of work isn't exactly your usual office work, I know you're aware of my security systems."

You were also very aware that at least Mr Nanami was Yakuza, though it never bothered you. It was simple enough to come into work, do your job and leave in the evening. Of course it came with its risks, but any job linked to the Yakuza warranted more open eyes than usual.

That was why you opted for spray in your bag incase someone came with overzealous hands. You could handle yourself in some capacity, so it was never an issue.

"I'm also aware that you are Yakuza, Mr Nanami. That doesn't bother me if that's what you are trying to imply?"

Was that a sigh of relief? "So you're up to speed then, this makes things easier. I apologise I never implicitly clarified before you came, but as you may have noticed, it's difficult to find civilian staff who won't run at the first sign of trouble."

Mr Nanami seemed like a reliable man at least, he was prompt, respectful and incredibly chivalrous. Something that may come in handy later should trouble actually arise.

Though for now, it seemed plausible to suggest that you were in good hands. As long as that didn't change and he left you out in the cold.

"I took this job knowing what sort of work you may have been in, I just need a steady pay check to afford my apartment. I don't need to know anything or ask questions."

Mr Nanami nodded and leant forward in his chair, lacing his fingers together in thought. "Good. At least I won't have to explain this."

He rummaged through his desk drawer and pulled out a knife. large enough to be mistaken for a kitchen knife, though it was dainty enough to be pocket sized if you squinted at it hard enough.

"I want you to keep this in your desk out front. The man who's coming is the type that some people despise for various reasons and I do not like the fact you have nothing as a deterrent while he's here."

Some might have suggested in their minds that the man himself was a serial killer or something, but that wasn't it at all. That signified to you that the man in question was someone of great importance to Mr Nananmi.

His own boss perhaps? Someone with enough power to make enemies out of the wood work to warrant protection from a secretary out front at collateral.

You bet on that it was his boss.

"Alright then," you leant forward and took the knife from the desk, its weighted handle gleaming in the low light of the screens off to the left side of the room you never dared to look at. "If that's what you wish of me, consider it done."

Mr Nanami got up from his chair as a signal for you to do the same. "Thank you, I hope you never have to use it."

"I hope so too," following him, he led you out of the office and back to your desk to which you slipped the knife into your drawer just like he had done before. "What time will your guest arrive?"

"Tonight, but I won't need you to bring him through. I'll greet him myself," he made a move back to his office and stopped in his tracks. "It's best if you don't make direct eye contact with him, his presence can be overwhelming to some."

You nodded to give non-verbal communication and turned to your work for rest of the day until Mr Nanami came back out of his office to greet the shadow at the door.

"Chairman," seeing Mr Nanami bow to another man was an odd sight.

The man being shorter in stature than himself, bright hair and unusual tattooed markings on his face. He was beautiful, the markings were beautiful in their own way, and being a Yakuza man made his presence all that more intimidating.

Well, to other people. Not to you.

To you, he was just another man just like Mr Nanami.

For a fleeting second, the two of you made eye contact to which you bowed your head in respect and continued working, noting his silent footsteps wander past you and into Mr Nanami's office.

Another hour must have passed in silence while your pen scribbled away, scratching over the quiet for something to listen to. Paperwork and filed reports sorted alphabetically to make the time not drag whilst there wasn't much else to do.

A knock at the outer office door was the most interesting thing in the whole room, it sounded timid by the rapping of knuckles which led you to believe it was Ino coming back to tinker with the network, or fiddle with something computer related.

But it wasn't.

It was a man you had never seen before. "I'm sorry, is there any chance I can see Nanami right now?"

"Sorry, but Mr Nanami is in a meeting right now. He can't be disturbed, would you like to leave a message?"

"No that's fine," he moved towards the desk and just past it, looking at the office door. "I only wanted to see who was out here before I get my guys."

What?

He held up a gun and moved fast enough to get behind you. "Why he would put a woman out front is beyond me. The Chairman's in there, isn't he?"

So that man inside with Mr Nanami was the Chairman?

You said nothing, making little micro movements towards your desk drawer. The weapon seemed as though bad luck had graced your desk, spending not even twenty four hours in your possession and you were already edging towards it to use it on a man you'd never met before.

There was a gun pointed at your head and you were as calm as you had ever been. Though what was the use in panicking?

The barrel of that gun pressed against your head. "Answer me, bitch."

"I don't know who you're referring to," so close now, the drawer handle in your reach.

"Don't fucking lie to me," he was trying to be as quiet as he could, teeth gritted and all. "I have four guys out there ready to storm this place and they'll take turns with you, believe me. So cooperate and tell me."

He was making threats like that already? He was either incredibly wet behind the ears to use something so drastic this early, or it was a bluff.

"Alright, I'll get the keys to the office."

The excuse was enough for the pressure of metal to leave the back of your head and allow you to open the drawer naturally and moved your hand around to feel for the knife's handle.

'If a person has possession of a knife when threatened, they better follow through in using it.' That was advice you had heard once from somewhere.

Might as well listen to it.

It all happened so fast, taking a hold of the weighted handle and moving forward a fraction so you could drive the blade into the man's thigh. The gun went off regardless by your head and the shot rang through your ears though it wasn't enough to stun you.

You weren't sure how you got up from your seat the way you did to draw the knife out of him and lunge again with the steel pushing onto his chest, enough to topple him off his feet and drag him to meet the hard floor with you on top of him.

The ringing vibrated your ear drums, tingling too much to notice Mr Nanami's office door open. You were on top of a man who threatened you with a gun and there was so much blood.

But he was still alive.

It wasn't shock. It couldn't have been. You were still coherent, you just couldn't hear much. The red on your hands was new, sticky and warm enough to keep you out of the moment until someone took a hold of your shoulders.

It wiped you out and into reality, grasping at what you had done in the present in front of your employer and a stranger who was eyeing you intensely.

"Can you hear me?" Mr Nanami shook you a little, his voice muffled somewhat. "Are you alright?"

"He threatened me- I didn't know what else I could do."

And now you were justifying yourself. You would do the same thing if there was a time machine to take you back.

"But are you alright?"

"I'm fine. There might be others outside," how were you talking so clearly right now with just your little rapid breaths at your lips? "He asked about the Chairman and said there are four others."

"Can you stand?"

"Yeah. I'm alright," the blood was a nuisance.

Mr Nanami lead you over to your chair and pulled the desk phone to his ear. "I'm calling Naoya, he'll be able to take you home."

"Don't let that ingrate in on this Nanami," the Chairman spoke for the first time.

"I can't leave until this is cleared up, she'll need to get home."

"I'll take her back, Uraume is waiting in the car," the Chairman approached the desk and folded his arms with purpose. "Naoya is a brat, he'd only mess it up. I'll make sure she get's home while you clean up the trash."

Wait. Clean up? Things were catching up to you. "Is he dead?"

Had you just killed a man? You should have been more freaked out about it. But you weren't.

"He's kicking for now. Shame. You should have aimed higher."

Right in front of you was a hand, the Chairman's hand. You made a note of the darkened polish adorning his manicured nails, black bands around his wrist.

You took it without question. "I'll bare that in mind next time I stab a man."

"Good. Nanami, call by tomorrow when this is sorted."

"Yes sir."

His hand was far warmer than you anticipated. He never let go until you were in the car, a sort of blur until he broke the silence.

"Care to explain how a civilian found their way into a vipers pit of the Yakuza?"

He was the Chairman, it was only respectful you answer him honestly. Right? "Money. I needed the money. I was aware who Mr Nanami was as soon as I saw him."

The world zipped by from the car window, unaware for the crime you had just committed. If the man wasn't dead, he was certainly gravely injured enough to warrant a prison sentence should anone find out. It was never discussed or mentioned by Mr Nanami or the Chairman.

It was more like an afterthought from yourself.

"Yet you still accepted the job offer anyway? And now you've stabbed a man with a gun. This life is hardly one to brag about when you're collateral."

"It doesn't scare me," only his reflection was in your periphery, you didn't turn your head to face him. "It's a job. I've had my fair share of hardships to know life isn't easy. Defending myself is something that comes naturally."

You could have sworn you heard him chuckle. "Defending yourself is far more difficult than people understand. It takes someone strong to do what is necessary."

That much was true. And that statement was enough to get your head turning to face him. Even in the dim light of the passing street lights, he was beautiful.

How did someone such as himself find his way into becoming a Chairman?

"Sometimes we're faced with difficult decisions when the hardest choice is the wisest. It's just something that has to happen."

The blood had dried along your fingers and began to crack and chip away leaving streaks of exposed skin at the joints. It would take more than just one shower alone to get all of this yuck off of you.

"You speak more truth than most of the men under my watch. It's refreshing."

"Sir, we've arrived," a voice from the drivers side came about to ground you.

"Thank you for the ride. I appreciate it."

The car door was suddenly opened for you, the driver bowing and their identity remained hidden. The other door opened and the Chairman approached you.

"I never got your name, Mr Nanami never told me."

"Sukuna. It's Ryomen Sukuna."

Even in the darkened sky of the night's glow tapered off with the neon signs of Shinjuku, he was still beautiful. You spoke your name too and offered a bow before taking steps towards the door to your apartment.

A quaint little ground floor, and it was all yours.

"Do you need assistance?"

"No, I'll be alright from here."

His eyes were in the back of your head as you wandered past him. "I'll be forward because it's not every day I meet a woman who pulls something so extraordinary to gain my attention like you did today."

"Hmm?" you turned and watched him from your front door almost, he made no attempt to follow you.

"Marry me."

"What?"

A proposal from someone you had spoken few sentences to was a first. But you didn't find yourself shying away from the subject.

"Marry me."

"I..."

The man in front of you softened his eyes, never judging you covered in another mans blood. "Think about it, and come to me with any answer you choose."

He bowed to you and turned towards the car, the driver opening the door to let him disappear into the darkness of tinted glass.

After that night, you wondered about that man and who he really was.

You gave him your answer several days later.

And it was a firm yes.

[tadc-harlequin-au]

Would they have mechanical mounts or horses for fast transportation? I'm writing some stuff about Harlequin AU (despite my poor English), and this idea came to mind: Caine and Pomni riding horses under the moonlight, calmly enjoying each other's company, or chatting casually

mmm, no mechanical horses because they go crazy and feral, the main method of transport is literally just this

I've mentioned how I wanted object displacement (teleportation) for fast travel in this AU, and this is the lil guy that can do that. For funsies I'm gonna name the All-seeing Eyes "Jeffery" in reference to Caine's green eye from 'POMNI WAKE UP TIME TO GO ON AN ADVENTURE' lol

Jeffery can do some stuff, but this fella's main goal is checkpoints, and offering a small pocket of invisibility for the puppets in the AoE of the eyes (it would cloak energy signatures so that the marionettes are not alerted to an activity in the area). Like the Stargazer from Lies of P, or the bonfire(?) from Dark Souls.

Initially, I wanted Pomni to carry the hat and place it in places where Caine assigned them in, but... that has a lot of issues, starting with "there's NO way Pomni will carry a damn top hat", "how can she even activate other Jefferies with only one hat??" and "Would she carry 12 top hats all at once??" so...

The new idea would be that Caine placed these eyes all over the city for easier mode of transport, but Marionettes keep knocking over the Eyes when idly passing by. So, Pomni has to reassemble and reactivate the deactivated Jefferies.

When that happens, Caine can teleport to the recently activated eye without a hassle, and upgrade them. He'll set up camp there, repair Pomni when she falls in battle, go back and forth to the manor when needed, bring the needed ally Pomni wants to accompany her in battle, amongst a few other things. Pomni can also fast travel to other Jefferies if she wants.

... What were we talking about again? Oh right, horses and riding underneath the moonlight. uhhhhh

You can just say they found live horses somewhere eating grass lol

[mrs-barnes-rogers-writes]

A Second Chance Is A Better Chance - Part 22

Marvel AU

Pairing: Alpha Steve Rogers x Omega Witch Reader, eventual ? x Omega Witch Reader and Alpha Steve Rogers X Omega Witch Reader

Theme: A/B/O / True Mates

Series Warnings: A/B/O, eventual smut, violence in parts, witchcraft, shapeshifters

Chapter Summary: Bucky and the reader start a heart to heart.

Chapter Warning: Mentions of witchcraft, past trauma.

You keep your hands down, watching them as they shake, as Bucky drives you home. His eyes flicker between your face, the road ahead and your hands.

"You OK?" He asks.

"I'm not sure." You reply, your voice full of uncertainty.

"Look, what she said..."

"I don't want to talk about it." You say abruptly, rubbing the tears from your face. Buck sighs in response.

"Sorry." You whisper.

"You don't need to be sorry. You don't want to talk about it, so that's on me, but I need you to know none of what she said is true and it won't stop Steve wanting you."

"You don't know that." You reply, your gaze now out the window.

"I do."

You can't help but role your eyes.

"Y/N, I know Steve. I've known that punk since we were knee high on a playground. I know everything about him. It's the reason I'm the beta of the pack. I can read that kid like a book, and I know how much it tore him apart when he was rejected, and I know he'd never do that to you."

"But that's the thing, you know Steve, you don't know me James."

Bucky tries to ignore the pull in his chest when he hears you call him by his first name.

"Well, I know now that your mother's an asshole."

"Not just my mother."

"Your dad too?"

"My biological dad, I don't even know him. My stepfather, I don't even know where to start."

"Start at the beginning."

"I'm not drunk enough for that and you don't have all day to listen to my bullshit."

"I've got time. and you've brought vodka."

You shook your head and let out a huff.

"You're not going to let this go are you? You're not going to give up? Any of you?"

"I can't speak for that bunch of idiots but I can speak for myself, and for Steve." He paused and reached over to squeeze your hand. "They didn't give up on me, and I'm not giving up on you."

You looked down at his hand on yours and pulled yours away.

"You shouldn't have done that, I could of hurt you."

"But you didn't, plus your hands aren't shaking anymore."

Your brow furrowed and you looked down to see he was right.

"You seem confused babydoll?"

"It's normally harder than that."

"Well according to Sam, and it kills me to use that idiot as a reference," he smirked, "but he said its usually easier for a witch to control things when they're with their pack, and I know Wanda has definitely been more settled since she became part it."

"Wanda, that's Natasha mate? Pietro's sister?"

"Yeah, her and Nat are kinda busy at the minute."

You smirked.

"Oh I know I can smell them all the way up here."

Bucky let out a chuckle.

"Yeah I think her shielding needs work. Maybe you can help her with that?"

"Maybe." You shrugged.

"I have a question."

"You seem to have a lot of those."

"Actually, I haven't asked you that much at all little miss luna." He replied, a glint in his eye. You rolled your eyes. "So, can I ask?"

"About what?"

"Is it true you put a shield over the whole damn town? In Queensborough?"

"Oh my goddess, is that really your question?"

"Yep, look I've served right, I seen shields, seen witches on the frontline. I've seen Wanda use them here and there, and Loki, but we try not to talk about him. Anyway, they said, I heard it was the whole town."

"From who?"

"A contact from S.H.I.E.L.D."

"Oh that Fury guy?"

Bucky laughed hard.

"What? Why are you laughing?"

"That 'Fury guy' is the Director or S.H.I.E.L.D."

"Well, he should do his job better." You shrugged. Bucky laughed again.

"You're right, he should." He laughed. You watched as his face lit up with a smile, and his eyes creased with laughter. He really was a beautiful beta. Bigger than any you had ever met and built very differently to Billy but there was something about him you couldn't shake. You felt your cheeks heat and pulled your eyes away. Looking around you realised you were home. Well, your current home, Stark's cottage. Sam pulled up in your car, parking it back in your original space next to the cottage. He stepped out and made his way to the passenger side of the truck. You put the window down as he approached.

"You OK?" He asked. You nodded in reply.

"I'm sorry for causing a scene back there. If I embarrassed you..."

"Woah, woah, woah, hold on a second there babygirl. You did not embarrass us." Sam told you.

You looked down at your hands.

"But"

"But nothing. You didn't embarrass us. Now, do you need to release some of that energy because I know a couple of spots that Pepper wanted plants." He smiled, pulling open the door for you. "Do you know how to do that? Push into the ground, make plants and all that?"

"I do, I've not done it in a while though." You replied, thinking back to your lessons with Cordelia and Fiona.

"You've got this babygirl." He replied, as he helped you from the truck.

Sam guided you around to the back of the cottage and into the back garden, which you'd yet to venture into. Bucky followed closely behind, his hand soon finding the small of your back. As you looked between them both, you couldn't help but feel at ease. They weren't scared of your powers and if anything, they seemed to embrace it. Being in the military they'd seen witches in all shapes and sizes, and had probably fought with them and against them. So had Billy and Frank, but even they had been suspicious of you to begin with. It was the reason Frank had gone looking for you when he'd heard the rumours around town that you were there and why he asked what you wanted in exchange for helping them at the docks the day of the accident. Sure things had changed quite quickly, but there was something about Sam and Bucky being unfazed, being so accepting that warmed your heart.

Maybe you should talk to Steve.

Enjoy this fic? Fancy a cuppa? My Ko-Fi.

TAGLIST

@animegirlgeeky @mrsevans90 @slut4rogers @jvanilly @otterlycanadian @neocity-mel @jessjessmarvelandhp @littletomboy2

[death-ofpeace-ofmind]

Noah Sebastian(YOU!AU) x Reader: Chapter II

Trigger Warnings: Obsessive thoughts, stalking (online and physical), manipulation, toxic behavior, emotional voyeurism, possessive mindset, references to past emotional abuse.

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Banner: @xmads-omensx

WC: 1052k

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Taglist: @alwaysfightforwhoyouare @lil-garbitch @blade-dressed-in-red @fadingintothegrey @follow-me-down-to-wonderland @heyyoplayer @klutzy-kay24 @chey-h @collidewiththesav @supersquirrel1996 @shayeanna-ashlie @xmads-omensx @miwomens @lacy1986 @pipidoll @ami--gami @astronoids @bloody-spades @renegadebirch @miwomens @dontwantthemoney

Divider by: @silent-stories

Chapter II: “I Know You”

————————————————————————————Noah’s POV

There’s a difference between curiosity and obsession.

Curiosity is wanting to know what someone listens to.

Obsession is staying up all night to watch every Instagram live they’ve ever done.

And I’ve watched all of them.

You, in your tiny apartment off Melrose. You, barefoot in your kitchen, half-drunk on cheap wine, strumming a dusty acoustic guitar with chipped red nail polish. Your voice warbles through a voice memo app and pours from my laptop speakers like blood from a fresh wound. Unfiltered. Honest. Real.

You post a photo at 2:13 a.m., a moody black-and-white mirror shot. Oversized shirt. Collarbone exposed. You caption it: “writing demons out of my head again.”

Demons. Yes. I see them too, Y/N. I see the hollow in your eyes when you think no one’s watching.

But I am.

I always am.

I scroll past your friends,some barely post, most don’t matter. But him, Andy.

Of course it’s Andy.

Every girl like you has an Andy.

He’s in old photos, sometimes tagged in the background of your late-night shows. He was there when your voice cracked in that open mic at Dirty Laundry, wasn’t he? But he didn’t hold you. He laughed. I saw the way he commented: “You’ll get it next time.”

Next time. That passive dig. That’s what he does, makes you doubt yourself. Belittle wrapped in faux encouragement. Texts you at midnight. Vanishes by morning. Comes crawling back whenever he thinks someone else might take his place.

Not me.

He doesn’t know you anymore.

But I do.

I walked past your apartment for the third night this week. I tell myself I’m just passing by. That I like this part of town. That the gas station on the corner has better coffee than the one near me.

But then the lights go on. Your window, second floor, right side. You pull the curtain back and stand there for a moment, backlit like something holy. You’re not wearing much, just a tank top and those threadbare shorts that have your ex’s hoodie tied around the waist. Why do you still wear it?

You bite your lip. Pacing. Frustrated.

You pick up your guitar but set it back down seconds later.

Writer’s block? Or maybe you’re haunted. I hope it’s the second one. It means there’s still something broken in you. And broken things… are easier to keep.

Thursday, July 28th.

I make it look like an accident.

It has to be perfect.

I time it to the minute, 6:47 p.m. on a Thursday. You’re always at Honeybee Records around that time. I walk in, hoodie up, hands in my pockets, and there you are again, flipping through the “Alternative” bin like you’re flipping through your own heart.

You don’t notice me until I speak.

“Didn’t think you were a repeat offender.”

You glance up, startled. And then, recognition. That smile. That fucking smile.

“Noah,” you say, like the name means something now.

Like I mean something.

“Could say the same about you.” I nod toward your full tote bag. “Running out of shelf space yet?”

“I like the hunt,” you say. “Sometimes I find things I didn’t even know I needed.”

A perfect line.

A perfect metaphor.

You didn’t know you needed me either.

You tell me you’re working on a new song. That it’s not coming together. That your inspiration’s gone cold. I offer to walk you home. You hesitate, but only a little. That’s okay. You say you have to stop by the liquor store first. I already knew that. I was there last Thursday, too, remember?

You walk with your head down, boots scuffing the pavement. You smell like vanilla and tobacco and something lonely. I listen, let you talk. You mention Andy without saying his name.

“He said my voice is ‘too angry’ lately. Like that’s a bad thing.”

I smile. That guy again.

“Maybe angry is what they need,” I say. “The world doesn’t want another polished product. It wants something real. You’re real.”

You look at me.

Really look.

And something shifts. I feel it.

The first crack in your wall.

You live in an apartment with a creaky front gate and a dying succulent by the stairs. You invite me up, say it’s just to drop your stuff off. I pretend to hesitate.

Inside, your space is exactly what I imagined, records stacked haphazardly, a string of dead fairy lights on the wall, torn pages of lyrics taped beside mirrors. An incense stick burns in the corner, and a cat I already know is named Boots curls around my ankle like he’s giving his blessing.

You offer me a beer and turn on something lo-fi. You sing along absentmindedly.

“Ever think about putting out your own stuff?” I ask. “More than just Instagram clips?”

You hesitate. “Thought about it. But who’s gonna care?”

“I do,” I say.

You laugh, so soft, so unsure. But you don’t look away.

You sit on the floor, back against the couch. I sit beside you.

And for a while, we’re quiet.

But I’m listening.

To the rhythm of your breathing. The crackle of your knuckles. The way your thumb keeps brushing that chipped nail polish like you’re trying to erase something.

I’ll find what it is.

I’ll find it and burn it down for you.

You don’t kiss me that night. That’s okay.

This isn’t about rushing.

It’s about roots.

It’s about becoming so deeply entangled in your life that when the vines twist, you don’t realize they’re choking you.

Not until it’s far too late.

You walk me to the door, say, “Thanks for tonight. It was… nice.”

Nice. That word again. It’s always the start.

“You’re welcome,” I say. “Get some sleep. You’ll write better tomorrow.”

You nod like I’ve just solved something for you. Like I’ve slipped inside a space no one’s dared to reach in a long time.

And as your door shuts behind me, I already know what I’ll do next:

Delete Andy from your past.

Erase him.

Make him vanish.

Because villains don’t wait for the story to end.

They write it themselves.

[thisismeracing]

CHARLES LECLERC MASTERLIST

✦ CHARLES LECLERC ▶ CL16

All my Charles posts here

▸ main masterlist | patreon guide ▸ taglist ▸ who I write for & guidelines ▸ subscribe to Patreon for exclusive content ▸ tip me on ko-fi

KEYS: s: smut f: fluff a: angst ✷: Patreon exclusive

― ✦ SOCIAL MEDIA AU

this is the last time I ever call you babe (a): It’s been a little over a year since Y/n and Charles Leclerc ended their relationship, and Y/n went radio silent from everywhere…until the Grand Prix day. They say revenge is a dish better served cold, right?

everything has changed (f): Y/n, a famous singer, drops a song that is more like a letter confessing her feelings, and some fans are convinced it’s about F1 golden boy Charles Leclerc.

his pretty girl (f) : Fans start to notice Charles around an influencer’s profile and it's easy to put two and two together to discover just how in love he is.

match winners (f): After mentioning in an interview that she roots for Charles Leclerc, Yn is surprised with a new follower who happens to show up at one of her tennis matches.

sunshine (f): In which Charles starts dating an earthy/spiritual girl who just loves nature and good energy.

my boyfriend Marc (f): In which Yn always refers to her secret boyfriend as Marc and fans take forever to put the pieces together and realize that many of the names she used were actually Charles Leclerc’s middle names.

his protector (f): Yn is a comedian, who happens to date the f1 driver Charles Leclerc and who loves to joke around about how horrendous Ferrari is, but beware: she is the only one who can laugh at her boyfriend’s disastrous races. No one pokes fun at Charles in front of her, especially not on live TV.

all because I liked a boy (a): Yn fell in love with Charles and secretly dated him for almost a year. She didn’t consider, however, how fans would react seeing they used to love and still stan Charles’ past relationship. What happens when their hidden love gets out in the open? ● part 2 here

just like in the movies (f): You’re shooting a new movie about racing cars, but you did not expect to get a racing heart from a certain driver. Or the one where they met at a racing track and fell in love.

king of manifesting (f): You’ve been secretly dating Charles for a while, but fans can’t believe it when the rumors start to go around. What do you mean a vroom-vroom Ferrari guy is dating their idol?

a real goal getter (f): When fans see Charles at one of your soccer matches, they start speculating what he is doing at a stadium he’s never been to, talking to a guy he never talked with (who happens to be your best friend). When they discover you’re together, they agree you’re the best player, but Charles is the goal scorer for landing someone as amazing as you. 

― ✦ BLURBS

you betrayed me (a)

Overprotective bf (f)

Timeless (f)

― ✦ REGULAR IMAGINES

honeymoon stunts (s): Charles and Yn just got married, and although they know too much about one another, there’s always something new to discover together, such as Charles’ new breeding kink.

the (un)lucky one (f): Charles and Yn have a history back from when he was at alfa romeo, Yn used to be his PR assistant, and they were close to best friends. Now, years later, they are still friends, but Yn is Carlos’ assistant now, and she can help but root for her new friend and boss. Meanwhile, Charles is having trouble with no longer having her undying support all the time. He’s been through an unlucky season on the speedway, will he be unlucky in love too? 

anything you want (s)✷: After getting hit by a wave of bad luck, Yn takes matters into her own hands to make her boyfriend feel a bit better about his situation. Sometimes all you need to feel brand new is a two-day vacation full of sex by the fire and words of affirmation.

love bites (a)✷: It is believed that during the Halloween season, cursed souls and entities come out to play. As it happens, some of them can come uninvited, but things get a lot easier for the dark side when people like Yn are challenged by her friends to go beyond the safety of the town and into the woods looking for a cursed church. One wouldn’t want to be near to witness humans discover history they’re not supposed to.

charlieverse (f): When Yn decided to go to a Halloween party with her best friend, Charles Leclerc, she did not consider that some of the fantasies would be so close to reality that they would terrify her. But one thing Yn had no idea about too, was Charles’ feelings for her. All Hallow’s Eve is not the most romantic scenario to confess your feelings, but it might be just the perfect one for them.

not quite love (a)✷: When you get romantically involved with your best friend you were not expecting a marriage proposal, but simply a commitment. You were sure that what you had wasn’t quite love, though it could be and maybe that’s what hurt the most. The fact that you had everything to be each other’s end game, but turned out to be strangers.

― ✦ HEADCANONS

♡ soon

𓂃☁︎ ✈︎𓂃 Around the world ♡ charles dating a korean girl ♡ charles dating a greek girl ♡ charles dating a brazilian girl ♡ charles dating a french girl ♡ charles dating a canadian girl

©thisismeracing do not copy, steal, or translate my work. do not repost on a different media platform.