#and this is an additional layer to why she's afraid to fall in love and feels really guilty

[melien]

𝑰 𝒅𝒊𝒅𝒏'𝒕 𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒆 𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒕𝒐 𝒎𝒂𝒌𝒆 𝒇𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒔 𝑾𝒆 𝒘𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒃𝒐𝒓𝒏 𝒕𝒐 𝒃𝒆 𝒔𝒖𝒃𝒖𝒓𝒃𝒂𝒏 𝒍𝒆𝒈𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒔 𝑾𝒉𝒆𝒏 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒉𝒐𝒍𝒅 𝒎𝒆, 𝒊𝒕 𝒉𝒐𝒍𝒅𝒔 𝒎𝒆 𝒕𝒐𝒈𝒆𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝑨𝒏𝒅 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒌𝒊𝒔𝒔 𝒎𝒆 𝒊𝒏 𝒂 𝒘𝒂𝒚 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕'𝒔 𝒈𝒐𝒏𝒏𝒂 𝒔𝒄𝒓𝒆𝒘 𝒎𝒆 𝒖𝒑 𝒇𝒐𝒓𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓 𝑰 𝒌𝒏𝒐𝒘 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒔𝒕𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝒓𝒆𝒎𝒆𝒎𝒃𝒆𝒓 𝑾𝒆 𝒘𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒃𝒐𝒓𝒏 𝒕𝒐 𝒃𝒆 ��𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒂𝒍 𝒕𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒔𝒖𝒓𝒆𝒔 𝑾𝒉𝒆𝒏 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒕𝒐𝒍𝒅 𝒎𝒆 𝒘𝒆'𝒅 𝒈𝒆𝒕 𝒃𝒂𝒄𝒌 𝒕𝒐𝒈𝒆𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝑨𝒏𝒅 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒌𝒊𝒔𝒔𝒆𝒅 𝒎𝒆 𝒊𝒏 𝒂 𝒘𝒂𝒚 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕'𝒔 𝒈𝒐𝒏𝒏𝒂 𝒔𝒄𝒓𝒆𝒘 𝒎𝒆 𝒖𝒑 𝒇𝒐𝒓𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓

🎵

[90stvqueen]

Before I read any reviews and let what other, smarter people have to say about Wicked (part 1) cloud my thoughts, I will get some of them down:

It was better than I thought it would be in a lot of ways, and exactly what I expected in others.

The biggest issue is that the movie fundamentally does not trust its audience to be able to think for themselves and put the pieces together. All the jokes are explained. All the important plot beats are drawn out to the point where they lose momentum in their effort to make sure everyone is on the same page. Every emotional beat is its own movie, and it was to the production's detriment in almost every case.

An example of this (and a spoiler) - toward the end of "Defying Gravity," the song fully STOPS so that Elphaba can start to fall, continue to fall, oh no, she's falling, now time slows, and she catches her reflection in a window, and it's the reflection of her child self, and now she's emboldened to act on her own behalf and save herself and in doing so, save the helpless, unloved child she once was, but we didn't NEED any of that, and in my opinion it didn't ADD anything of real substance. I thought it was corny, tbh, and I say this as a lover of corniness, cheesiness, kitsch, and camp.

The sets were beautiful. When the first trailers dropped, I was very afraid that it would all be CGI. But the sets were real and they looked real and I loved them. EXCEPT FOR the random stone Jeff Goldblum Elphaba finds in a cave during "The Wizard and I." Speaking of...

It felt like Elphaba's solo songs, rather than being a driving force, slowed the movie to a halt. During the ensemble numbers, duets, and Galinda's songs, there's movement. Choreo, montage, a sense of direction. Both "The Wizard and I" and "I'm Not That Girl" spent long periods of time just sitting in one place. Maybe that's not a fair assessment; INTG is a contained music-box kind of song, and TWAI had some movement - we see Elphaba hopping over stones with some CGI frogs and eventually breaking out of the Wizard cave and running through a field to look over all of Oz at a cliff's edge. But why make a movie if you're not going to play around a little bit? She has a vision midway through the song, and we don't see it. We see a different vision of hers later, but her "vision almost like a prophecy" in TWAI is just some rippling colorful lights on a giant stone carving of Jeff Goldblum's head. Maybe there was an image in there, actually. I was too distracted by the giant Jeff Goldblum tbh. Someone had to sculpt that. Wild

All of the performances were fantastic. I went in ready to be a hater, but credit where credit is due: Ariana Grande was great as Galinda. Cynthia Erivo knocked it out of the park, too, but I was less worried about her

I have so many more thoughts but it's way past my bedtime and this post is already so long, so I'll say one last critical thing:

In the Broadway production, the costume design progresses through the play as Ozians wear more feathers and furs, as a way to show how attitudes toward Animals are shifting. I felt this was really missing in the movie. The designs were beautiful, but they were missing that additional thoughtful layer.

[jazzpostsrandomthings]

Journey Retold: The First Dungeons and Trials

<< Previous Entry

Sorry for cutting the last entry a bit short, I ran out of time and space and then got busy with the next exam. But I have time now so let's pick up from where we left off!

After Pi took flight, the scene transitioned to a different airship flying through the air and landing in a fortress on a... space rock of some kindAt first I was very confused and thought for a second that it was the same ship my character had boarded… But it still was a nice transition.

From the airship came four figures dressed in metal garb, looking quite alien to the rest of the people we've seen so far. They also looked very "Star Wars" in addition to their own theme music, which is probably why I thought we were on a completely different planet now.

And who is that guy, Gaius van Baelsar? He sounds quite fami--

OH YOU--

I didn't check his voice immediately after hearing it for the first time (I did do it near the end of ARR), I had my doubts about it since I am known for confusing voice actors a lot, but man, I did manage to hear the guy's voice right and he still sounds incredible after so many years since Rockman X7 came out. But if someone didn't know, he is also the Japanese voice of Solid Snake and Big Boss. I am just more familiar with his role as Red.

Anyways, we have an evil Empire trying to conquer Eorzea and who are quite ruthless to others. Most definitely they are our antagonists, at least for this expansion. Note taken.

After that scene, Pi finally arrives to one of the city-states Admiral Merlwyb had sent him to, the liveliest and the largest settlement of The Black Shroud -- Gridania. It's the least confusing city to traverse through by far which is a plus, but I wasn't too interested in it because it was looking like a normal fantasy forest village, but I still don't think it's bad, don't get me wrong, I just think Limsa and the next city we'll visit after that were more memorable.

Here we meet up with the Elder Seedseer, the local governor of sorts -- Kan-E-Senna, who I, for a moment, thought was a weird kind of Au Ra lady because of the horns, but it's actually a really rare subrace of hyurs that only lives here which I found interesting. She signed some documents after reminising about the days prior ot Calamity and what happened after (mostly latter) and Pi moved on to the other city-state on the list, the richest city of Thanalan -- Ul'dah.

Now, I really liked the whole look of Ul'dah. Its West Asian aesthetic and the way it's structured like a big palace with rich-looking buildings and bazaars around it was just so memorable and unique to me, and I absolutely loved looking around Ul'dah for the first time… even though it was the worst city for me so far in terms of actually exploring it because of the amount of layers it had. I was getting lost even more than I did in Limsa...... ;w;

We go talk to the guy here who isn't the ruler of the city-state but instead is the leader of the local Grand Company called "Immortal Flames" -- Raubahn Aldynn. He didn't talk to me much because everything has already been explained to Pi by Kan-E, so he quickly signed the papers and let me go.

OK, what did I do next, I genuenly don't remember, let me look at the fold--

Oh. I went to unlock a few dances instead of MSQ. That's hilarious.

But after that, I unlocked the first dungeon! I made sure to tell my friends about it because they wanted to take me through it so I wouldn't be afraid to do the next ones. I had to wait for one of them to come back from a raid they happened to be doing at the time though.

It was... fun! Although the fact that my friend was a level 90 tank who knew how to pull enemies quickly made me sweat because I was falling behind and doing shit damage due to my equipment being very low-level in comparison. But I was told to ask others to slow down in the next dungeons if I happened to have troubles catching up. However, I wasn't afraid anymore. I wasn't playing as Tank or Healer so I didn't need to take note of everything at the same time, I just needed to maximize my damage output and stay alive -- simple enough.

Next day, I did a few sidequests before proceeding to the next dungeon, this time in The Black Shroud... and I actually couldn't find the entrance to it for a while because I somehow missed the fact it was under the ground.

I also asked my friend how to do a character portrait (and by extension the Adventure Plate) and it took me nearly an hour to make, if not more, but this was the result:

The variation of this portrait is still on my Adventure Plate to this day actually. I think it just shows the character of Pi quite nicely (at least when he isn't out exploring the world).

After I came back from university (and I remember that because I actually wrote to my friend about finishing the portrait as I was going outside to catch a bus), I actually went to the second dungeon. And then to the third one. None of them gave me troubles fortunately.

At this point, according to the screenshots at least, I seemed to have drifted off into Arcanist questline for some reason. Either because I wanted to unlock Scholar and Summoner (and hitting a brick wall because of Sylth-management quest) or because its story was just more interesting than MSQ itself to me at the moment, or maybe even both. So yeah, I ended up picking the MSQ back only a few days after, on September 7th.

And also have a funny excerpt from a conversation we had in Discord before that point:

Me: Probably we won't be able to play together until Saturday, my University classes are held until 8PM for four days straight. The player of the self-proclaimed Emo Catboy: Das fine... miss 20 hours in THREE DAYS.

Me: You two are so fun to play with though... but do you have a problem with my progress?

The player of the self-proclaimed Emo Catboy: YOU ARE ALREADY LIKE A SIXTH OF THE WAY THROUGH THE FREE TRIAL. At the pace you are going, you'll outrun me when we hit StormBlood. Me: :D Skill issue.

(You are allowed to give me shit for this, Emo Catboy :) )

But I did have a problem of playing too much Final Fantasy XIV in a span of three days at that time, I won't deny that. I too had (and still have) a bit of a skill issue in this regard if you can say so.

OK, let's continue. So, some thugs attacked a defenseless woman because they thought she was stealing food, my little baby defeated them, and then Y'shtola showed up again and told Pi that it must be fate that they have been bumping into each other so often and that he does actually have a gift that her good friend also has. This gift is called "Echo" and it's the reason why we can look into other people's memories, along with a few other powers we will learn of later. The miqo'te woman also invited us to visit her organisation's headquarters in Waking Sands at the Vesper Bay. But before I actually visited the Scions of the Seventh Dawn (that's what the group was called), I made sure to unlock Glamour, which also allowed me to obtain a beret, which I dyed blue and proudly put on Pi's head. Now he could finally have his most recognizable design feature and stop wearing ugly wizard hats and mismatched robes. After that, his appearance remained largely unchanged until the start of the next expansion.

But let's go back to the story.

This is the receptionist at the Waking Sands. And I think I was more buffled with her unironically singing "Trololo" than her standing on a chair because she was too short to reach the table. But yeah, her name is Tataru. She lets my lalafell boy in after finding his name on the list and here we are finally introduced to the full cast of main protagonists.

(Sorry I actually never made a screenshot with them all in one frame...)

Their leader, a young woman by the name of Minfilia (voiced by Milla Maxwell of all people lmao) who also had Echo, told us that they have been working on protecting the peace on Eorzea after the Seventh Umbral Calamity (hence "Scions of the Seventh Dawn") and how they are searching for people that too have the gift of Echo because it helps with resisting the tempering of the primals, gods summoned by the beast tribes, which can brainwash people without such gift into serving them for the rest of their lives so there could be even more bloodshed. Minfilia politely asks if the lalafell boy of mine even wants to join the team, but of course he wants to save the world and be as cool as them so he answers with a nod. Now Pi too is a scion!

At this point, I had already formed a group of friends to get to the first trial as quickly as possible. And then something absolutely hilarious happened, which I unfortunately did not capture in a screenshot. So I was in a cutscene and all, and when I finished it, I saw a giant fucking level 50 lizard thing that my friends were fighting. I panicked, tried to run away while I heard one of my friends scream, and then this thing killed me in one hit, scoring me my first death in the game. Even though I was swearing and typing in caps in the part chat at that moment (couldn't use the mic), I was actually laughing my ass off. I don't think I could have had a moment like that in any single player game, or even if I was playing FFXIV alone because I think my friends accidentally got the monster too close to me, so it was another moment that made this game worth it for me.

But just a few cutscenes after that, Pi got taken into some cave with other people by the lizard beastfolk tribe, Amalj'aa, that wanted to summon their god -- Ifrit. This was the first trial, the first actual boss fight, and--

The player of the stern-looking Auri man: Jazz? Where are you? The player of the self-proclaimed Emo Catboy: ...Actually, yeah, where ARE you?

I opened the map, saw that the location was called "???" and that there was no way out of it, and then I was told that you can actually start duties through a menu -- no need to approach the entry points to dungeons or trials once you unlock them. That was a relief because I was afraid my party leader won't be able to register for this duty and I would have to do it with a bunch of randoms.

I am sorry, I didn't screenshot Ifrit either. But the cutscene that showed how summons happen, with the whole demon-ass flame monster emerging while this musical theme of approaching disaster played, it all was quite great! As for Ifrit himself, though... he didn't stay alive for long, all because of my friend's equipment again, I am pretty sure.

We stopped the primal, sending the lizard folk running, and, oh! Ifrit left a crystal behind! Great, now its ours and we are 2/6th of the way to... whatever would actually happen once we collect all 6 crystals.

Damn, I do write quite a lot here, don't I? And I didn't even mention all the things that happened along the way, I had to skip a few (such as Golden Saucer and Aesthetician guy) since the post was too big already and I was diverding attention from MSQ a bit too much. But I assure you, once we get over the middle part of ARR, my writing will end up being more focused on MSQ itself, just bear with me here :'D

[call-sign-shark]

Oh yess Lee, I'm kicking my feet right now! You can't imagine how impatiently I've waited for that first chapter.

Aurora arriving in the room and moving with a cat's grace felt so intense through your description of her body language that I could almost see her in front of me. You're perfectly balancing the typical sexism of the era with the creation of a strong woman character, which is not an easy task. Quite the contrary. I particularly love the lines "Although she hadn’t been invited to give her opinion, she’d been listening to every word, silently judging the ludicrous plan Luca was suggesting" and "The air grew thick with their silence and as Aurora’s eyes scanned the room, she noticed not one of the men looked in her direction". How she manages to stand fierce in a room full of men, to the point of facing Luca is impressive even if I can't help but be afraid for her knowing the nature of their relationship. This is later perfectly described with your wonderful (and my personal fav) line "However, there were things she’d learned on her own as a result of being the only woman in a room full of men. How you had to demure and make them think an idea had been their own".

Honestly, I am just in love with the way you built tension in their relationship. I don't know how can someone be so incredibly skilled with words, but I can feel the fire and the storm when they argue. The discussion between Enzo and Matteo was also a brilliant way to add a layer of violence between Aurora/Luca. Luca's abusive nature and Aurora's temper are so well known that they've grown used to it, to the extent of joking about Aurora's death -- this had me literally reacting with goosebumps. Overall, every time you describe their relationship is extremely efficient. I especially think about the way she's become skilled at hiding her bruise and how she always falls back into Luca's arms. His line "Thank God she married a man like me to keep her in her place, right?” is truly frightening. Your portrayal of Luca is incredible, you've managed to create a whole threatening aura around him. The fact he hit her just before meeting the Solomons and made her fall broke my heart.

Now, I kinda smiled like an idiot when I read about Rose. This is such a lovely addition as well as a very fitting character for the story. I love this OC so much that seeing her interacting with Aurora was too much for my little heart. Your portrayal of Flor's character left me impressed: I think you've perfectly pictured the essence of the Rose, with her asking for Aurora to come with them and, later, with her helping our favorite Italian girl. You're really spoiling me. 😁

The scene between Aurora and Tommy was exquisite. I loved how their introduction to each other starts with his resentment for his wife death, it's really in character. I can't continue commenting without mentioning the line "Violent men all had the same deceiving comportment, a snake coiled and ready to strike. " which is just perfect. You never cease to amaze me with your talent. In truth, I was wondering how this first meeting between your OC and Tommy would be, considering she's a Sabini and that she's known as a fierce woman. Truth is, I am not disappointed: the way they behave around each other and their mutual distrust create an incredible dynamic. That last exchange, with Tommy asking her why she is laughing is heartwrenching but her confession is also one of the most beautiful depictions of emotional distress I've ever read. Watching this stunning and fierce woman crumbling in bits made me teary.

Lee, I think I don't need to expand on your literary talent because at this point, it's not fanfiction. It has the quality of a published piece of work. What I need to say though is how I love this new OC of yours. You've managed to build such a sad, strong, and broken character at the same time! I must say that I'm now emotionally involved with Aurora, she's my poor little sweetheart (even if she's as fierce as a wildcat). I can't wait for the next chapter.

My Sun, My Moon and All My Stars-Part 1

Luca Changretta x OC (Aurora Sabini Changretta) x Tommy Shelby

Summary: Luca and Aurora Changretta come to the UK to avenge the murder of Luca's brother and father. However, as their volatile marriage unravels, events take an unexpected turn.

Author's Note: This has been on my mind since I created the moodboard ages ago. And it's been requested in several forms, the most recent being a lovely anon who wanted to see Tommy with an American mafia girl. OC Rose Solomons belongs to @raincoffeeandfandoms. Prequel has been posted as phone calls in two parts here and here. I would def recommend reading that before starting this fic! One more part coming soon!

Warnings: language, domestic violence, mention of blood, use of ethnic slur

Luca stood pointing at a map with his forefinger, tracing a path from the garden to the center of Arrow House, mumbling in a low voice to his men. Thunder rumbled overhead as Aurora made her way into the room, unnoticed by everyone, tracing the perimeter of the room as she listened carefully. When she’d heard enough she spoke up from the back of the room, voice loud enough to be heard, but even and measured to show she was in control as much as her husband. “Non sono d’accordo, Luca.”

Luca’s head shot up as he searched between the faces to find his wife, though he thought he’d caught a hint of her perfume moments earlier, taunting him as he attempted to strategize. 

“It’s too risky to approach him at home again,” Aurora declared, stalking toward the desk with cigarette in hand. The smoke parted the men before her arrival at the table and she stamped out her cigarette a bit too forcefully before joining her husband where he stood. Although she hadn’t been invited to give her opinion, she’d been listening to every word, silently judging the ludicrous plan Luca was suggesting.

“Don’t you remember what the intelligence said about his family? They’re gypsies, fucking savages,” she emphasized. “And he’ll be expecting us this time,” Aurora said with a dismissive shake of her head. Luca’s face and neck reddened at the scolding tone of her voice, his blood boiling instantly at her show of arrogance. 

The air grew thick with their silence and as Aurora’s eyes scanned the room, she noticed not one of the men looked in her direction. They shifted uncomfortably as Luca reached for a matchstick, placing it between his gritted his teeth.

A low growl emitted before his words, causing everyone to stand at attention once more. “And what would you have me do, tesoro?” he said the pet name without any hint of warmth, but Aurora did not back away. In fact, she stepped closer to her husband, standing just below his shoulder as she placed a hand to his forearm gently. 

“I’m only asking that we consider a few more options,” she said diplomatically. Then she reasoned, “There must be another way to get to Tommy Shelby. His sister’s home in London or perhaps one of his factories. We’ll have to wait for him to come to us this time.”

Luca removed the match from his mouth as she spoke, lighting it and held it perilously close to her face as he taunted, “We smoke him out, principessa? Is that what you want?” he asked moving even closer, the flame in danger of catching her loose curls on fire.

Aurora didn’t blink as she watched the flame dance before her eyes. She could feel the heat close to her skin and her pulse quickened. “Basta cosi!,” she warned with raised eyebrow.

As lightning flashed outside the office window the spell was broken, Luca blew out the match with a dark chuckle. Turning to his men he concluded with a wave of his hand, “You heard my wife.” Then rolling up the map before him with haste he added, “We’ll pick this up tomorrow when everyone’s rested.” Everyone filed out, but Matteo and Enzo remained to ensure nothing else was needed for the evening. Aurora remained at the window as Luca instructed, “Seven o’ clock sharp, you understand?” 

“Yes, boss,” Matteo and Enzo replied, trudging toward their rooms. It was only their second night in England and they had not yet acclimated to the time difference. They felt the exhaustion seeping into their bones, the relentless demands weighing on them heavily. 

Before they could move more than a few steps down the corridor, they heard the shouting begin. It was an open secret that Luca and Aurora fought loudly and often. Aurora had grown up in a powerful New York family and thought herself equal to Luca which was not an opinion he shared. When his temper grew, he liked to prove that to her. Luca’s men knew better than to to involve themselves in their disputes despite the fact that Aurora often appeared with all manner of injuries the next day.

As the sound of glass shattering broke the crescendo of voices, Matteo ran a hand down his face, a hint of irritation as he sighed heavily. “Do you have the number for the hospital?” he asked Enzo, with quiet efficiency. 

Enzo nodded slowly. “And the morgue,” he added solemnly, eyes lingering on the doorknob. He didn’t want to listen to the distinct sounds of Luca’s blows striking the object of his ire or Aurora’s muffled cries, but he would have to stand watch until it was over to know how to proceed. 

Luca tired easily tonight and Aurora limped from the suite thirty minutes later, hair disheveled to hide the bruise forming across her cheekbone. She fell once, picking herself up from the plush carpeting with a sniffle and Matteo and Enzo turned from her as though they hadn’t seen her in ruin, a familiar routine of make believe.

“Let’s get some fucking sleep,” Matteo said when she disappeared into a separate room.

Enzo had just closed the door to his room and kicked off his shoes when the phone began to ring.

“Enzo, what’s going on? Luca hasn’t phoned,” Mr. Sabini grumbled.

“Luca’s been…working on strategy,” Enzo fumbled, thinking of the fight he’d just witnessed. He didn’t dare mention it to Aurora’s father though. Out of everyone who knew of their tumultuous marriage, Antonio Sabini was somehow unaware of his daughter’s plight. 

As if on cue, Antonio asked, “How’s Aurora?” 

Enzo gulped as he thought of a reply. “You know, she’s got her ideas,” he said truthfully.

“That’s my little girl,” Antonio answered proudly. He had always encouraged his daughter’s sharp mind and hadn’t objected when she insisted on accompanying her husband to advise him during the vendetta. If he was honest, she was much better at delicate affairs than her mercurial husband who was prone to snap judgements based solely on emotion. By contrast, Aurora handled pressure with a calm, collected detachment.

“Keep me informed, Enzo. I want to know everything,” Antonio said sternly. “And keep Aurora out of danger if it comes to that.”

“Yes, sir,” Enzo reluctantly agreed, unsure how he was going to keep the promise. 

“And Enzo, buy her blue hydrangeas tomorrow,” Antonio ordered. “They’re her favorite. I don’t want her feeling homesick,” he added softly, the fondness of a memory seeping into his voice and making it much quieter than before.

“Of course,” Enzo said, replacing the heavy receiver in the cradle and falling into bed, only to be awoken an hour later by the sounds of lovemaking in the room next door.

—————————————-

At seven the next morning, Aurora entered Luca’s office, smiling to herself as she held a large bouquet in her arms. All the men in the room turned to drink in the sight of her glamour, a trait that lived on in her from her exceptionally beautiful mother. Enzo and Matteo exchanged knowing glances as they traced the lines of her face, noting how talented she’d become at hiding the swelling and bruises. 

Although it sickened them to watch, she bent low to capture Luca’s mouth in a tender kiss, pulling away to breath a near silent “mi dispiace” against his lips. For reasons known only to her and Luca, they always fell back into each other’s arms. It was as predictable as the rising sun.

“I know you are, baby,” he replied, turning her out of his lap. 

“Grazie, amore,” she said sweetly holding up the flowers and stroking his cheek adoringly.

Luca knitted his brow, a hint of confusion noticeable, before he glanced up at his wife with a smug grin. “Of course, sweetheart. If you’ll excuse us, there’s business this morning and I think you had your say last night.”

Aurora nodded obediently and went to put the flowers in water as though in a trance. As soon as the door had shut behind her, Luca’s expression changed to a deep grimace. “Which one of you assholes got flowers for my wife?” He leaned forward onto his elbows, awaiting an answer.

Soon Enzo spoke up with a slight tremble in his voice. “It was me, but it wasn’t because of last night, Luca.”

Luca narrowed his eyes. “What the fuck did you say to me?”

“Her father asked me to get ‘em,” Enzo clarified with a slight cough, suddenly remembering his lines in the play they were subconsciously rehearsing at any given moment.

“Figlio di puttana!” Luca said, smacking the desk with his palm. “He spoiled her and now look how she acts!”  He shook his head with an indignant scoff, turning to look out the window. “Thank God she married a man like me to keep her in her place, right?”

———————————————

“We aren’t in Darby’s territory any more. Where are we going, Luca?,” Aurora asked as the car bumped along the narrow roads. Luca turned to look out the window as though he didn’t hear, second guessing his decision to bring his wife along to the negotiations with the mad baker of Camden Town. However, Aurora would not be ignored. She had played the dutiful wife for two weeks so as not to insult his manhood further, but every attempt at moving closer to Tommy Shelby had failed, resulting in multiple casualties. To make matters worse, every man lost was a member of her own family, brought from New York to aid the Changrettas in their vendetta. The idea of losing more men sickened her and she began to consider the possibility that she would have to challenge her husband once more.

Then Luca spoke up, but he only offered a sliver of information. “We’re on our way to Camden Town, alright?” he said before settling back into his seat with a sigh.

Aurora was an intelligent woman, raised at her father’s elbow watching the deals he made and how he researched his enemies. However, there were things she’d learned on her own as a result of being the only woman in a room full of men. How you had to demure and make them think an idea had been their own. She’d learned the art of manipulation and weaponized it early on as a means of survival. Today called for such an approach.

“An alliance with the Jews? That’s clever,” she praised, hoping her guess was correct. Running a hand along his knee seductively, she waited for Luca to confirm her suspicions.

Luca turned to face his wife, a surprised look on his face. “And how do you know about Alfie Solomons?” 

“He’s connected to the east Boston Jews. But, Darby knows him, of course. Says he’s unpredictable and violent,” Aurora added wearily.

She watched the muscles in Luca’s jaw tighten beneath the shadow of his fedora, knowing he didn’t like Aurora involving herself. Rubbing two fingers against his chin thoughtfully, he dismissed her concern. “I’ve spoken to your father and he approves. That’s all you need to know,” Luca said firmly.

“I wish you would tell me more about today,” she cajoled.

“No, amore. Not this time,” Luca said, clasping his large fingers over her gloved hand and giving her a squeeze that bordered on painful reprimand.

As the car jerked to a stop in front of a dilapidated building in Camden Town, she turned to her husband and took once last desperate chance as they exited the vehicle. “Luca, let me speak to Mr. Solomons. A woman’s touch might be just the thing to keep him from imploding,” she said innocently, biting her lip.

This infuriated Luca and he pulled her back, making her stumble on the rough cobblestones. “Like hell you will. This is my deal!” he spat.

“That concerns my family name and my blood!” Aurora retaliated, hitting him across the face, unable to control herself further.

Luca’s eyes blazed with fury, striking her in return with full force. Unstable on her injured leg, Aurora fell to the street, slicing her arm as she hit, immaculate clothing ruined in the filthy street.

“Get the fuck up,” Luca hissed through clenched teeth, unapologetically. 

Aurora winced as she pushed herself up, feeling the pain in her arm throb as soon as he placed weight onto her hand. She would never admit weakness though. “Vaffanculo!” she yelled, placing her fingertips to her chin and thrusting them toward him. 

Luca leaned down and dragged her to her feet, fingers digging into her flesh as he swore, "You make any more trouble for me and I swear to God you'll die here, Aurora. No one will know the difference. Maybe I'll marry your little sister when I get back. Always liked her better anyway," he smirked cruelly as a small woman with dark hair appeared before them. 

“Can I help you with something?” she asked, looking the couple up and down, hands on her hips with more authority than someone her size ought to have. 

Luca released his wife immediately, straightening her clothes as he painted on a charming smile. “My wife fell on the cobblestones,” he explained smoothly. “I’m here to see Alfie Solomons. Is he in?” he inquired as he stepped forward, seeming to forget his wife in distress.

“Depends on whose asking,” the woman replied, glancing at Aurora with concern. 

Luca removed his hat as he introduced himself. “I’m Luca Changretta,” he said, extending a hand.

Nonplussed by his attempt to con her, the tiny woman tilted her head at him. “And who is she?” 

Luca coughed to cover his embarrassment. “This is my wife, Aurora. She’ll be staying outside,” he said with a pointed look at his wife, who stood, cradling her arm.

“If you want to see my husband, I insist this woman come in as well. She requires medical attention,” Rose said sternly. 

“If you insist,” Luca said, pursing his lips. 

“I insist,” the woman said with a smug smile. “I’m Rose Solomons, Alfie’s wife. Please come in,” she said with a wave of her arm.

“Darling,” Luca said with a sneer, extending his arm toward Aurora.

Aurora pushed past him and followed Rose inside. Luca followed two steps behind, removing a match from his pocket and chewing it ferociously. He didn’t like being humiliated by the Solomons woman and made a mental note to make Alfie pay dearly for it.

As Luca was shown to Alfie’s office, Rose took Aurora to a separate part of the distillery. Her interest was peaked now that she’d witnessed something between husband and wife that felt unsavory. The Solomons’ liked to make it their business to know everything about their associates and this felt like something worth noting.

———————

Rose expected someone quite different from the woman she was meeting today. She’d heard Aurora Changretta was a tigress, someone who never gave an inch to her enemies. However, the woman who stood before her bloodied and broken was not in a position to argue. She might listen to the plea on Rose’s lips so she began in earnest.

As Rose handed over a flannel dipped in cool water, she admitted what she wanted. “I’ll be blunt, Mrs. Changretta. My Alfie has cancer. He’s riddled with it. The doctors say it’s probably from the gas during the war,” she explained with furrowed brow as though she didn’t understand or believe the words that came from her lips. However, Aurora knew them to be true. They were the admission of someone who loved deeply and had not yet come to terms with an imminent loss. 

“I’m sorry,” Aurora responded. “But I don’t see how I can help,” she admitted.

Rose cleared her throat and straightened her shoulders, rising to her full height. “You can get that man out there to go home. Leave us in peace for the days we have left,” she asserted.

Aurora bit her lip to keep a bitter laugh from escaping. Instead she just shook her head. Taking a deep breath she turned to Rose and spoke slowly to make the other woman realize her predicament. “You think I tell him the ways of the world? No, he doesn’t listen to me anymore,” she admitted, dabbing at her wounds. “He has very little use for me these days,” Aurora admitted in a soft whisper.

Rose took in the sight before her, bruises covered by layers of make up, bones badly healed over time. The limp when she walked inside and the arm she cradled gingerly now. This was a woman who knew suffering. 

“You’d die by his hand? Because that’s where you’re headed, love,” Rose warned, recalling her own difficult past. “Won’t you try?”

Aurora paused for a moment, a trickle of bloody water running down her elbow as she washed. This went against everything Aurora had ever been taught. You never spoke against your family, no matter what happened. Her parents ingrained that in her at an early age. However, her parents’ marriage had been one based on love and respect. No matter how many times they reconciled, she and Luca did not carry the same affection.

As she sat in the damp distillery, listening to the distant sound of machinery, she thought of her future with Luca and his intention to crush her beneath him became abundantly clear. He didn’t care for her as he once did. When the money and the resources were gone, he would dispose of her.

Finally Aurora mumbled one word into the darkness of the small room, keeping her voice low in case Luca was nearby. “How?”

Rose inhaled a sharp breath, chin rising suddenly with renewed hope to meet Aurora’s wide hazel eyes, full of questions and doubt. She knew how hard it would be to ask this of kind of trust from a stranger, but if she could convince her to take the first step, the rest would fall into place.

“We get you to Tommy Shelby,” Rose said confidently.

Aurora shook her head violently. “No, please. He’ll kill me.”

“He won’t. He’s not Luca,” Rose promised, rushing the rest of her speech for fear Aurora might bolt in fear. “This vendetta was started by the Changrettas and your husband is using your family to fund his war. Now he’s asking my husband to help. It won’t stop unless we say so. We can stop him, Aurora. Will you join me?” Rose asked, reaching for Aurora’s bloodied hand.

Aurora’s lip trembled thinking of crossing Luca, but she had had enough. If there was one thing her father taught her it was to fight for her own interests and she knew she still had fight within her. 

“Yes, I’ll help you,” Aurora agreed on a shaky breath, reaching for Rose.

“We’ll protect you, I promise,” Rose said, intertwining her fingers with Aurora’s stained fingertips. The blood that tainted her would soon be washed clean.

————————————

It had taken another week and several clandestine phone calls before Aurora could steal away to meet Rose. She’d convinced Luca that she needed medicine for her cuts and he allowed her to leave the hotel though she knew she didn’t have long. Rose knew a man who could help them meet on neutral territory, but it would be brief as Luca sent a man to watch over Aurora whenever she left. With that in mind, Aurora stole away one afternoon wondering if this was all a mistake.

The bell above the door of the chemist rang out and Aurora took a deep breath, scanning the small shop for Rose. Just as she thought of leaving, she spotted the tiny woman stood in the corner, observing a box as though she were another patron. Aurora thought to approach her when a door opened at the back and she was beckoned inside. Within the span of a few moments Aurora found herself face to face with Tommy Shelby. She knew him from photographs and descriptions of his deep blue eyes like two pools that could drown you if you stared too long.

“You killed my wife,” Tommy said, a stillness coming over his features. Aurora sucked in a breath, recognizing the calm before the storm. Violent men all had the same deceiving comportment, a snake coiled and ready to strike. 

“Tommy, please. Take one look at her and you’ll see that she’s not here to harm you,” Rose interjected. Surely Tommy could see the state of Aurora. Then again perhaps he couldn’t see past his own pain. Rose glanced at Aurora and noticed a visible change in her demeanor, a hardening of her exterior as she refused to show any kind of weakness.

“Luca killed your wife. I only tried to kill you,” Aurora said defiantly, head held high.

“Then I want to know why you and you’re family are helping him,” Tommy said, a lump forming in his throat.

“You misunderstand, Mr. Shelby. This isn’t my fight,” Aurora whispered, feeling the weight of every life lost. 

“If this wasn’t your fight, as you say, why the fuck are you supplying your husband enough money and soldiers to overthrow the British empire, love?” Tommy countered, never losing his footing.

“Loyalty. I hear that you’re like me when it comes to your family, Mr. Shelby. You would do anything to protect them. I didn’t agree with my husband, but I promised to protect him….”

“Do you honestly think he’d do the same for you?,” Tommy asked, blue eyes icing over to match the chill in his voice. He knew he was being cruel, but he had to test her in this moment to see if she would crumble.

“I have no illusions about our marriage, Mr. Shelby,” Aurora confided on a low breath. She forced herself to make eye contact as she said, “I don’t want this life anymore. Rose told me you might be willing to strike a bargain.”

Tommy scoffed, turning away from Aurora and she worried what she’d been told was false information. 

“Fucking hell, Tommy. She’s here and she’s willing to talk. Isn’t that enough?” Rose asked, placing herself before her friend.

Tommy turned with a look of warning, “Alright, give him up.”

“What?” Aurora asked.

“Give up your husband and we’ll call it even,” Tommy said, a wicked grin coming over his handsome face.

Aurora swallowed harshly, considering the choices at her disposal. Stay and see more bloodshed or end it with one final betrayal. It took only a fraction of a second to see the choice she had to make. 

“An ambush,” Aurora said quietly, fixing her gaze on Tommy. “We have to make Luca think you aren’t expecting him. That he can take the shot.”

“How do I know I can trust you?” Tommy asked.

Aurora began to laugh.

“That’s fucking funny to you?” Tommy asked.

Aurora shook her head as a tear fell from her cheek, the enormity of her decision causing her to fall into a momentary fit of insanity. “He married me and he saw cashmere, cologne, red racing cars…” she sniffed as she looked away from him, trying to catch her breath. “All I wanted was love. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. My parents didn’t want this for me. It’s like a nightmare now, Mr. Shelby. I just want out, you understand? I want out from under him,” she confided, her whole body beginning to shake. 

Rose approached her and covered her with her shawl. “It’s alright, Aurora. You’re going to be alright,” she promised, looking to Tommy.

“Artillery Square, two days time. Then I’ll know,” he said with a nod. 

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

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[queenxxxsupreme]

I just thought of something- Arthur as a dad and having a little girl that he's so overprotective of and he's got a ranch and he's all healthy and thick- This should be canon I swear.

A/N: BABE this might have just started a mini series involving dad!Arthur and my new ending to rdr2 that I know we deserved. There’s at least going to be two more parts (that could be read separately from this one) including Daisy’s birthday which has some members from our lovely gang in it and some drama as well as the part where Daisy gets her first horse which also has some drama in it! Also just saying, I am open to dad!Arthur requests... 

Additional Note: So in this, Charles’s SO is named Lucy and Abigail and John’s unnamed daughter that they eventually have is named Grace :) They are just mentioned but in this RDR2 AU mini series they will be appearing!

Warnings: DOES INVOLVE SPOILERS FOR RDR2 ENDING, mostly fluffy!, female!reader, 

***

“I’m a survivor, Morgan!”

Arthur jolted awake. His hands gripped the pillow beneath his head with white knuckles. 

For a split second, he didn’t know where he was. The room was dark save for a bit of moonlight that came in through the curtains that covered the window. 

He sat up, rubbing his eyes as he tried to get his bearings. A thin layer of sweat covered his skin. He pushed the quilt and fur blanket off of himself, throwing his legs over the side of the bed.

Arthur’s gaze fell on the end table by the bed. The picture on the table brought him back to reality. 

He picked the wooden frame up, a small smile coming to his lips. It was a picture of you, him, and Daisy when she was a newborn. 

“Oh how time flies.” He murmured quietly, placing the picture back down. 

Arthur glanced over his shoulder to where you should have been sleeping, but that side of the bed was empty. It wasn’t too much of a surprise that he was alone. You had trouble sleeping sometimes. But it was odd that he hadn’t noticed you getting out of bed. 

“I’m a survivor, Morgan!” Micah Bell’s voice thundered in Arthur’s ears. “That’s all there is! Living and dying!”

Arthur stood to his feet and moved down the hallway, making his way to Daisy’s room. He pushed the door open and poked his head inside. 

The little lump beneath the blankets on Daisy’s bed settled Arthur’s racing heart. All the worry that had been swirling in his stomach dwindled down at the sight of his seven-year-old daughter. 

The family dog, Carson, huffed from the foot of her bed, alarmed that someone had opened the door. 

“Shhh, boy.” Arthur tried to hush him before he could disturb Daisy, but it was too late. 

“Carson.” She whined.

“Sorry, sweetpea.”

“Daddy?” Daisy turned over in her bed, brushing her messy hair back out of her face.

“Didn’t mean to wake ya up.” Arthur moved into the room, giving Carson a pat on the head. “Just wanted to check on ya.”

“Why?”

“‘Cause…. Well ‘cause I was just worried about ya.” He explained.

Daisy looked up at him for a few moments. 

“Momma said you was havin’ bad dreams.”

Arthur furrowed his brow.

“When did she say that?”

“Earlier when she came in to check on me.”

Arthur would’ve laughed if the reason that you both were so insistent on checking on Daisy wasn’t because of your past. 

“Were you havin’ bad dreams, daddy?”

“No, sweetpea.” He started to tuck her in, making sure the blanket covered her properly and that she was comfortable. “I was just a little restless. Sometimes it’s hard for daddy to go to sleep ‘cause he knows there’s so much to do around here.”

“I can help you do stuff, daddy.” Daisy offered. “That way you can sleep better.”

Arthur smiled. 

“Sweet girl.” He leaned down to kiss her forehead. “You help me plenty. Try to get some rest. Tomorrow is a busy day. Do you know why it’s a busy day?”

A huge grin spread across her face. 

“I get a horse.”

“What? No, no. That don’t sound right.�� Arthur shook his head. 

“Daddy!” Daisy giggled. 

“I’m just teasin’ you, sweetpea.” Arthur kissed her head once more. “Sleep tight, sweetpea. First thing tomorrow mornin’, we’ll be goin’ into town to get you a little horse.”

“What if I want a big horse?”

“Well, we’ll have to just see what the stables have got.” He chuckled. “Good night, sweetpea.”

“Good night, daddy.”

Arthur closed the door to Daisy’s room behind himself. 

He looked down the hallway towards the kitchen, hearing the sound of a quiet conversation. 

He found you and Hosea sitting at the kitchen table. 

“Drinking coffee in the middle of the night? What is it with you two?”

“We’re already up.” Hosea shrugged his shoulders. “No point in trying to go back to sleep.”

You chuckled a little. 

Arthur moved around to stand behind your chair.

“Was Daisy up earlier?” He leaned down to kiss your head. 

“Yeah, briefly. Carson heard something outside and started barking.” You nodded, taking a sip of coffee. 

Arthur looked to the large window in the kitchen that looked over the backyard. His brows furrowed together. 

“Hm. Why didn’t I hear nothin?” He moved towards the window, lingering towards the side instead of standing directly in the middle. 

“You were talkin’ in your sleep again.” You said quietly. “You only do that when you’re having real bad dreams.”

Arthur nodded. 

“I already went out there and looked around. Didn’t see anything.” Hosea told him. 

“I’m gonna go double check.”

“What- You think I don’t know what I’m doing?”

“That’s not it, old man.”

Hosea watched as Arthur disappeared down the hallway, going to the backroom to retrieve a gun.

“He only wants to see for himself that there’s nothin’ out there.” You spoke so only Hosea could hear you. “He was sayin’ Micah’s name again, Hosea.”

Hosea let out a sigh. 

“He thinks Micah’s gonna come after him.”

“You don’t think so?” You tilted your head to the side a little, eyebrows drawing together. “After…. After what happened…. Arthur ruined his plans at getting the money from Blackwater. Dutch died on that mountain. You’re the only other one who knows and Micah knows you’re here too. It would only make sense for him to come here and…. and I’m afraid, Hosea.”

Hosea shook his head softly, reaching over to take your hand. 

“Micah Bell is a coward, Y/N. He knows it. He knows Arthur’s got all of us in his corner. You, me, Charles, John-,”

“But Hosea, we’ve got families.” Your voice cracked. “We have Daisy and-and Charles and Lucy are having one of their own. Abigail and John have Jack and Grace. We-We ain’t what we used to be.”

Hosea was quiet for a few moments. 

Arthur passed through the kitchen fully dressed and carrying a shotgun.

Your eyes met his briefly. The air in your lungs escaped. It felt like someone was sitting on your chest. 

The back door closed behind Arthur.

“If it comes down to it, Y/N, we will do what we have to do.” Hosea assured you.

You nodded your head, wiping the tears from your cheeks that managed to escape. 

***

A half an hour had passed and Arthur had yet to return to the house. You ventured out to find him. He sat on the front step with the shotgun still in his hands. Upon hearing the front door open, he looked over his shoulder. 

“Do you plan on stayin’ out here all night?” 

He didn’t answer you, turning his head to look back to the woods. 

You sat down next to him, slipping your arm around his. You kissed his shoulder and leaned against him. 

“Is everything okay?”

“I just…. just got this feelin’ that ain’t sittin’ right with me. That’s all.”

“We’ve been here for four years, Arthur. We’ve been quiet, haven’t drawn any attention to ourselves and haven’t let any of the locals know our real names. There’s no way he’d know where we are.”

“If that snake wants to find me, he could. I know it. And if he…. I don’t want him anywhere near Daisy.”

“Charles and Lucy are just down the road. You know Charles is just as vigilant as you are and with those dogs he’s got, he’d know if anyone was setting up camp in the woods between our property and his. If need be, next time Sadie comes through we can ask her to dig around and see where Micah’s at. You know she’d be willing to help.”

“I hate to get her involved.” Arthur muttered, shaking his head softly. 

“If it involves the future of her niece, you know damn well she’d want to be involved.” You rubbed his arm. “It’s early, but we still got a couple hours before the sun comes up.”

He let out a breath. 

“M’not gonna sleep at all tonight, pumpkin.”

“Then at least come lay down. Let me read to you. You don’t need to be out here alone with just your thoughts.”

Arthur’s eyes found yours.

“You know I love you, don’t you?”

“I know.” You smiled. “Come on.” You patted his arm and stood up. 

“Daisy’s real excited about gettin’ herself a horse.” Arthur put his hand on the small of your back as he walked behind you. “You don’t think she’s still too young for one, do you? I mean, she’s so small. She’s smaller than Jack was and he was a tiny kid.”

“She’s just fine for her age, Arthur.” You assured him. “It’ll be good for her to get started with a horse now. It’ll keep you both busy all spring.”

“What if she gets hurt?”

“She’s bound to get hurt. It’s a part of growin’ up.”

“I don’t want her gettin’ hurt.”

The door to Daisy’s room opened and Carson slipped out. 

“Daisy.” You said her name. “You should be in bed. It’s four in the morning.”

“I can’t sleep, momma.” She lingered in the doorway to her room, a frown on her lips. 

You looked back to Arthur. He nodded his head, moving past you so he could get to your daughter. 

“You wanna come lay down with me and momma? She’s gonna read a storybook to me.” 

“Yeah!” Daisy held her hands out for him. Arthur grunted as he picked her up and placed her on his hip. 

Carson slipped into the bedroom just before you closed the door. Arthur put Daisy down on the bed and took his hat off, placing it on her head. 

“Daddy! It’s too big!” She giggled, pushing it back so it didn’t fall over her eyes.

“Nah, I think it fits just perfect.” He grinned. “I’ll be right back. M’gonna go change. Don’t get too comfortable though, sweetpea. You’re in my spot.”

You slipped off your houseshoes and pulled a book from the shelf. 

“Momma?”

“Yeah, honey?”

“Where can I get a hat like this daddy’s?” Daisy put Arthur’s hat on the stand next to the bed and then settled back against his pillows. 

“I reckon if you mention it to daddy while you’re in town tomorrow he can get you one.” You sat down on your side of the bed, opening up the book. Carson made himself comfortable at the foot of the bed.

A few moments later, Arthur returned to the bedroom. He stopped just after shutting the door and put his hands on his hips. 

“Sweetpea.”

“Yes, daddy?” She giggled, bringing the blankets up to cover her nose.

“I think we got a problem. Where am I supposed to sleep if you’re in my spot?”

She giggled again, pulling the blankets up over her head as if to hide from him. 

“Arthur, she needs to sleep some.” You told him quietly. “Don’t get her-,”

He didn’t listen. Instead, he chose to tickle her through the blankets. Daisy’s delighted laughter filled the room. You couldn’t help but smile. 

Once Arthur was content with her laughter, he stopped tickling her and pulled the blankets back. Daisy’s hair was a mess. 

“Little Miss Daisy, we are definitely going to have to fix your hair in the morning.” Arthur leaned down to kiss her forehead. “But first, you need to get some sleep.”

“Nuh-uh! Momma was gonna read to us!”

“I’ll read until someone falls asleep.” You yawned. “Though I might be that someone.”

“You heard your mother, sweetpea. Scoot over so she can read us a story.” Arthur nudged Daisy over towards the middle of the bed. 

Once the two were settled, you began your story. 

“A long time ago, there were two cowboys….”

Taglist:  @doggone-cowgirl @winterwolf @lauramb7 @caraqas @bluscryn @krenee1drful @zodiacaldust @nonodino @gabstaroc @cal-lifornication @thefirelordm @sargeantsea @sokkasdarling @thecollection @mayday1284

[let-them-read-fics]

Worth It

Requested By: You guys!

Pairing: Lisa x Fem!5thMember!Reader

Word Count: ~ 3,543

Warnings / Misc. -- Fluff, Suggestive Themes

Disclaimer: This writing is a work of fiction, and no disrespect is meant for those mentioned herein.

A/N: Hey everyone! A bunch of you guys have been requesting a continuation to the previous Lisa fic I did, so I thought I'd provide for you 😌 I really hope you all enjoy this little addition ♡ Happy Reading ♡

Previous: Dancing In The Dark

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

You should've known. It was all too good to be true -- too close to being a fairytale as it teetered on the edge of perfection, just waiting to fall off that mythic pedestal. 

Lisa's eyes meet yours the moment you walk through the front door, opening widely as she scrambles to collect herself -- she clearly hadn't expected to be caught. 

"Seriously, Lisa? Wow." Part of you is shocked, but you'd be lying if you said you didn't see this coming. The bags in your hands hang heavily, weighed down by everything YG sent home with you for review, and their plastic straps uncomfortably dig into your palms now. You don't put them down, though; they serve as a good distraction for what you're witnessing. 

"Y/N-- I can explain, I promise!" Lisa walks around the counter and tries to reach for you, but you're quick to step away before she can. 

"Don't," you say, glancing down at her outstretched hand. She gets the memo, giving a subtle nod as she obediently puts it back at her side to appease you. 

"I can't believe you."

"Baby I'll go pick up some more, any kind you want!" Her eyes are pleading now, scanning between yours with purpose as her brows furrow more and more. She's desperate to make it up to you. 

Her bargaining piques your interest, but you don't show it. She's not getting off the hook that easily. "How could you eat the last one?" Disappointed, you give her a hurt look. "You know I've been craving them and you still ate it! I didn't even get one!" 

"I'm sorry! I didn't realize that this was the only box of them we had." 

Your favorite donuts, all gone. And when you're on your period, no less. The audacity that your girlfriend possesses really blows you away sometimes. 

The pout on your face eventually fades a bit as you see the sincerity in her eyes, and with a small huff, you crack a smile. After stepping around her to place your bags on the counter, you turn around and wiggle a finger at her. "We're getting 2 boxes, and you're paying." 

"Of course, babe. You can get as many toppings as you want, too." She adds, her smile widening obnoxiously as she wraps her arms around you. 

"You're lucky you're cute, jerk." Your arms loop around her neck as she pulls you in, rubbing your back to soothe you. Despite joking around, she really does feel guilty -- she knows how bad your periods can get, and those sweet treats always seem to make things at least a little better. 

"Come on, let's go get them." She whispers against your temple.

You raise your head to look at her, eyes wide in shock. "Right now? I thought you meant we'd go tomorrow… it's getting late, Lis."

"Why would I miss out on an opportunity for a late night drive with my girl? Besides, it's still open for…" she glances at her watch before looking back into your eyes, "...2 more hours. I think that should be enough time for you to choose." She teases, narrowing her eyes at you playfully. You can be pretty indecisive at times, but a lot of that uncertainty seems to fade for you when you're hungry enough. 

"They have so many good options, though. You might have to help me pick." 

"Okay, but do me a favor? Remember this moment when you want to yell at me again for not getting enough of your favorite kind." She cracks up when she sees you hide your face behind your hands, laughing at yourself. 

"I do get pretty cranky sometimes, don't I?" You tilt your head to the side, looking at her with a soft smile.

"That's an understatement, but I'll let it slide. You're adorable." 

She plants a sweet kiss to your cheek before grabbing your hand and leading you out to the car. 

---

Where you go I follow

No matter how far

If life is a movie

Oh you're the best part, oh oh oh

You're the best part, oh oh oh

Best part

The windows of Lisa's car are rolled down, allowing the warm evening air of Seoul to flow in and gently ghost over your skin. Vibrant city lights pass by leisurely, blending together in the distance to create a breathtaking skyline, and Lisa has no desire to rush anything. She keeps the car at a cruising speed, enabling you to relax and enjoy the smooth ride. Her thumb strokes over your knuckles as she sings along with the song, both of you knowing who she's aiming the words at. Occasionally she brings your hand to her lips, laying soft kisses to your skin. 

The heat radiating from your seat warmer fends off any possibility of a cramp, further putting you at ease. Today was a long day of rehearsal and interviews, only broken up by meetings that you didn't particularly enjoy sitting through. It drug on mercilessly, paying no mind to how exhausted you were or how eager you were to be home. Every time you'd sneak a glance at the clock, nodding along to whatever your manager was saying without actually listening, you'd find the time creeping by, the minute hand barely further than what it had been during your last check. It was boring and monotonous, but now you're here with Lisa and you couldn't be happier. 

The open sunroof allows for you to peek up at the stars, seeing them twinkle brightly for you, as if to say hello again. The sky surrounding them is rich; its velvety darkness serves as the perfect backdrop for them, making their colors pop in all the right ways. It's a gorgeous sight, and although you hate to admit it, maybe you're not too incredibly angry at Lisa for eating your donuts after all. 

"We missed you back at the dorm today," she says with a soft smile, her eyes still trained on the road as she lazily rubs her cheek against your intertwined hands. 

"Yeah?" You ask, turning your attention to her. "I missed you guys, too. I couldn't wait to get out of there; Jiyoung barely gave us a break, and we were practically buried in all the paperwork we had to go through. I've never signed so many things in my life." A grimace tugs at your features at the lame memory, and Lisa sports a very similar expression. 

"I'm so glad I'm not you," she says with an amused smile now, chuckling when you flick her. "We're so proud of you though, baby, and all of this work will be worth it. Your solo is gonna blow everyone away." The fleeting look she throws over her shoulder to you makes your heart swell with pride, and you're reminded of how far the two of you have come. 

Through trials and tribulations, hidden feelings and repressed desires, the two of you eventually found your way to each other in the end. You'll never forget the day that she asked you to be hers:

"Lisa, we can't get another cat right now! You know I love them just as much as you, but we don't have room." You try to reason, running a brush through your hair as you continue getting ready. 

"You're no fun," she groans, throwing herself back onto the bed like a frustrated toddler. In a perfect world, she'd have a house filled to the brim with little kitties scurrying around, rolling and playing with each other -- she doesn't understand why some people try to put a limit on how many she can have.

"Stop complaining or we'll be late," you warn, giving yourself a final once-over in the mirror before walking over to the bed. You stand between her parted legs, gazing down at her until she realizes you're there and opens her eyes to look at you.

For a moment, she doesn't say anything; she just takes in the sight of you before shaking her head. She's smiling like a giddy teenager, and you can't help but question her with a breathy laugh. 

"I'm so in love with you." 

She's implied that before -- her words usually accompanied by nervous fidgeting and an avoidance of eye contact -- but something about this time is different. Her gaze holds a softness that you've never quite seen from her, an added layer of tenderness and care behind her words. 

She's not afraid anymore, and, truthfully, neither are you. 

You've turned her into a more gentle person - one that thinks before she speaks and doesn't act so impulsively anymore - and a sense of accomplishment settles within your heart. It's not that you wanted to change her -- she just naturally adopted some of your mannerisms, shifting into a better version of herself. 

"I've never loved anybody like I love you, Lisa." You confess, a look of pure adoration on your face as you realize how true your own words are. She's evolved into a better person to be with you, knowing that she couldn't function as her old self any longer, and that alone makes her different from all the rest. 

You see her release a little nervous breath as she moves to sit further back on the bed, coaxing you into her lap. You have a sneaking suspicion of what's coming, but you bite back the smile that threatens to break out on your face and allow her to speak next.

"Well, then, I think it's only natural that I ask that question." She starts, referencing back to the night that you all made up. You're glad you didn't jump into anything then, when you were high on your emotions -- both of you needed time to grow individually first, but now the stars are finally aligned. You know the time is right now, and you're ready to be together.

"Go ahead," you nod with a smile, playing with the baby hairs on the nape of her neck as your arms rest against her shoulders. 

Part of you wants to mess with her and say no, but all of that goes out the window once she asks the words she's been dying to. 

"Jagi, will you be my girlfriend?" 

"I'd love to, Lili." 

Smiling like an idiot, she wraps her arms around you and lays back, falling onto the cushions with a soft bounce as she pulls you in for a kiss. She peppers your face with hundreds of tiny pecks, giggling when you squirm and squeal at her ministrations. 

You pull away slightly, just enough to look into her eyes, and you grin. "Should we just cancel the reservation? I don't think we'll make it on time and I'm too happy right now to even leave." 

She agrees, deciding that eating takeout on the couch while Netflix plays in the background is a much more tempting offer, and reaches for the phone in your back pocket. 

She lets her hands wander, knowing exactly what she's doing to you, but you allow her to have her fun -- a fitting revenge plan is already being formulated in your mind anyway. 

The fingers of her unoccupied hand flirt with the hem of your shirt, sneaking up under the material to caress your side as she waits for her call to be answered. You brush the back of your hand over her cheek lovingly, reveling at how smooth her skin is. 

"Gorgeous," you whisper, tilting your head down to kiss along her jawline. She sighs as you continue, lulling back into that blissful state of happiness she enters anytime your lips are on her. 

Suddenly, the line picks up and a familiar greeting can be heard. "Hello, how may I help you?" A surprisingly pleasant voice asks, the smile evident in how her words come out. 

"Hi, I'm calling to cancel a reserva-- oh," Lisa starts off strong, only to get blindsided halfway through when she feels your lips against her neck. They tease the tender skin just the way she likes, strategically parted by your tongue every now and then to lick a heated path to your next target area. 

She has to pull the phone away from her mouth when you snake a hand down her body, allowing it to travel to all the places she wants you most. 

"Ma'am?" The hostess asks when the line remains silent, Lisa too busy moving her head to the side to give you more access to respond to her. 

"S-sorry about that," she lightly smacks the back of your head as punishment, but soon groans again when you nip at her pulse point. "Manoban. I need to cancel my reservation." 

The woman begins typing away at her keyboard, searching the list for Lisa's name. Your girlfriend's legs wrap around your waist, and she grinds her hips against you with a smirk on her lips. The little tease is loving this. 

You move away from her neck now, satisfied with the marks you left behind as you follow the path that your hand previously made. You leave no area unattended as you methodically work your way down, making it a point to give attention to all of her most sensitive spots in order to get a rise out of her.

You do, of course, in the form of quiet expletives and breathy mewls of your name in between the small talk she's having with the hostess. 

When you sit back on your knees, momentarily stilling your movements, Lisa's eyes flutter down to where your hands rest: right at the front of her jeans. She gulps at the mischievous look in your eye, but bites her lip nonetheless. 

"--Yes, okay Ms. Manoban, I see your reservation for 9PM? Is that correct?" 

You undo the first button.

"Yes, that's correct." 

You tease her, running your fingers along the material before popping the next one open. Her hips involuntarily buck up towards your hand when you brush it against her center, bringing a shade of blush to her cheeks. 

"And to ensure that we're meeting the needs of all of our customers, may I ask your reason for canceling?" 

You flick the last one open, glad that she's only wearing a semi-high waisted pair of pants -- that little game was fun, but her hushed moans have gotten you riled up. She covers her mouth, sinking her teeth into her palm to silence herself when you pull her pants past her hips and lay needy kisses to her upper thighs.

"Something just… came up. No fault on your part," she rushes out, wishing she could just hang up now and not care enough to be polite. 

Her eyes lock with yours when you push her shirt farther up, kissing across her toned stomach as you tug on the waistband of her lingerie. Its maroon lace is paired with accents of deep purple, contrasting with her skin gorgeously as jagged breaths ripple through her. You admire the bruising patches your lips have left behind that paint her stomach, splashes of darkness to accompany the material that leaves little to the imagination. 

"Ah, I see. Well we hope you'll come back and see us." 

Just as Lisa is about to say a hurried goodbye and hang up, the hostess asks, "Speaking of, would you like to book another now?" 

Lisa's head digs into the comforter, her eyes tightly closed in frustration… for multiple reasons. She tangles her fingers in your hair, her silent way of pleading for you to continue, and she does her best to sound stable as she responds.

"No, no. Thank you, though. Goodbye." The very second that she registers a parting word from the other end, she quickly hangs up and tosses the phone to another part of the bed. 

"That was cruel," she breathes out, though both of you know she isn't upset in the slightest. 

"You loved it," you say, self-assured as you smile against her hip bone. A slight tremble runs through her body, and it works to boost your confidence tenfold. 

"You drive me crazy, Y/N."

You're pulled from your pleasant reverie by the feeling of Lisa nudging your thigh with her hand. You hadn't even realized you closed your eyes. 

"We're here, my love." She says, unbuckling herself. You let out a tired yawn before doing the same, and you thank her when she comes around to open your door for you. You settle against her side, and soon enough the two of you are filtering into the cozy little shop.

Rows of treats greet you, all tucked behind crystal clear walls of glass for protection from any stray kids that may try to snatch one of them when no one's looking. A shorter container sits beside the standing racks, stretching out to reveal an impressive array of ice cream and sorbet flavors. You wander around, studying the different options as if you don't already know them all by heart after being such a frequent customer for so long. 

"I'm debating on getting some ice cream, too. What do you think?" You ask Lisa, only to hear her let out an earth-shattering squeal in response. 

She clears her throat, amusingly composing herself, and acts like the inner 5 year old in her didn't just pop out. "We can get the Super-Ultra-Mega-Shareable Waffle Cone, if you want." 

"Sounds like a plan, babe." You laugh, seeing how ready she is to absolutely demolish some ice cream. You'll be lucky to even get a few bites in, you realize, though seeing her this happy is far more important. 

You spend the next few minutes deliberating with her like you're judges on some Food Network show, deciding on the perfect order as you rack the price up with every gourmet topping you add. Eventually satisfied with your choices, Lisa kisses your cheek and sends you off to find a seat while she pays. Upon scanning the entirety of the dining area, you spot a corner booth that's tucked away from the busy center of the store, and you smile at how intimate it is. It's perfect, and you begin making your way over to it. 

She follows behind you shortly after, shoving the change she just received down into her pocket. The large cone rests in her other hand, and she swipes her tongue along the top of it, gathering up a generous amount of whipped cream as she slides into the seat across from you.

You swear you can hear angels singing as you open one of the boxes, seeing the beautiful spread of yummy treats lined up together in neat little rows. Their delicious aromas waft up, making your mouth water in anticipation. So, deciding not to waste anymore time, you reach for the one that you've been dying to sink your teeth into all day and take your first, glorious bite.

It's made just the way you like it, with the perfect dough-to-glaze-to-topping ratio imaginable. The memory of Lisa specially requesting them to be made fresh warms your heart, and you open your eyes to look at her. 

"Oh mah gahd--" you say around your mouthful of food, attempting to not choke and die when you see how crazy she looks. Ice cream is already messily smeared across her face, reaching just about everywhere -- her cheeks, nose, mouth -- you name it; and her hair is haphazardly pulled back in a messy bun. 

Halfway through crunching on the tasty cone again, she looks up at you. "What?" She asks, sounding as if she genuinely has no clue as to the state she's in. You motion to her face, prompting her to grab her phone and look at her own reflection. Rather than getting embarrassed, she lets out a loud cackle, successfully throwing the two of you into a laughing fit. 

It's the good kind -- slapping the table, making no noise as you egg each other on, filling the shop with those joyous sounds -- kind of thing; and seeing her so carefree is priceless. Any trace of stress that stuck around from the long day you had quickly disappears completely, no longer deserving of the room it was taking up in your brain. This moment with her is perfect, and you're so glad to be sharing it. 

After things die down a bit, the two of you lean back in your chairs, tightly clutching your aching stomachs. Your cheeks hurt, too, but it's the kind of pain you're more than happy to welcome with open arms. 

Lisa reaches for your hand across the table as she looks at you with that special twinkle in her eye, her smile looking particularly swoon worthy. "I'm really happy I ate those donuts earlier." She's teasing, but it's the truth -- this night is a memory she'll keep forever, added to the list of things she never wants to forget. 

"Me too." You squeeze her hand and pull her in, grinning at the taste of ice cream on her lips. The next part (which you knew was coming) still makes you squeal: she nuzzles her face against yours, spreading the sticky sweetness all over you as well. 

"There. Now we're matching." She kisses you again, leaving you to attempt to hide the unwanted smile that parts your lips. 

[shadyteacup]

If you’re still doing requestsssssss how about a hcs of Dazai x fem! Reader who is like Midari from Kakegurui 😌

Ooh thats a nice one! Yes love, I'm still doing requestss

And I'm so sorry, this is so late... also it's very long n I'm not exaggerating. It's not even funny I'm so sorry

I'm Crazy, But I'm Free

Dazai x Fem!reader who is like Midari

• You and Dazai probably met during his days at the port mafia.

• I can imagine the mafia capturing you because of how much trouble you were causing in a casino.

• UK, when big businesses pay gangsters for security?? Yeah, similarly the casino you were playing at, has paid the mafia.

• You were already banned from many other casinos, as your games either end with you gaining a lot of money, or begin with a dangerous condition.

• Many people were quite afraid of you, and wanted to avoid even being in the same room as you, as they couldn't handle the severity of the danger you pose with every game.

• Anyways, so you were warned by a few members of the mafia twice, but you, being the fearless adventurer you are, flipped them off and continued to seek a life threatening game.

• So then the mafia decided to use violence, and cornered you in a dark alley. You pulled out your beloved gun.

"Well, well, well! Do you boys want a fight!?", you excitedly point the gun at them.

"Put your weapon down, Ms. L/N. We are here to warn you for the final time. Stay away from this casino. Further misbehavior will lead to dangerous consequences."

You hum, thinking up a plan.

"How about this. My revolver has 5 bullets. And there are five of us. How about we all take turns to shoot blindfolded!"

You excitedly shove them in a circular arrangement.

"I'll go first! The rules are that every person gets a chance to shoot from the center of the circle. If the bullet misses, everyone takes a step ahead, closer to the center."

You explain, grinning at the men clad in all black.

"If a bullet hits me, I'll agree to your terms. If it hits one of you lot, then you can't stop me anymore. What do you say?!"

The mafiosi were weirded out by this. What if you had a good aim, or an ability that allowed you to shoot them with your eyes closed? They didn't have much intel on you, and only knew you to be a girl from a rich background, who had come to Yokohama for higher studies.

"That's enough. Grab her-"

• Thats when our boy showed up. Dazai was curious when he overheard some of the men talk about some 'fearless girl that had flipped them off even after two rather threatening warnings.'

• So he had decided to tag along, staying in the shadows, until now.

• "I think it will be a wonderful idea. Play along, gentlemen. I want to see where this goes."

• You shot, and missed. So did the other guy. Then the other one. Now, the circle had shrunk really small. You were almost in the line of fire at this point. There was an 80% chance of getting shot.

• "That's enough." ,Dazai said, as he walked to stand in front of you.

• "You are daring, aren't you. You're not afraid of death."

• Staring into his eyes, you saw a reflection of yourself. A dark, lost soul stared back at you.

• "In fact, you arranged this little game to ensure that you got hurt. You perfectly planned it out, and ensured that as the circle gets smaller, you would be in the direct line of fire."

• "You missed the first shot on purpose, didn't you?"

• He had seen right through your game.

'What's this guy's deal?', you thought.

"Why would you stop the game when it was at its peak? Hah? Whats wrong with you, man?!", you angrily grab his collar. "I was just beginning to have fun, and here you are, ruinjng it!"

• Taken aback by your bravery, he just blinked at you.

"Do you know who I am?"

"Yes, obviously, idiot. But that doesn't give you any right to interrupt our game."

"Oh? So who do you think I am."

You give him a 'baka janiono?' look.

"You are their leader. Probably an executive of the mafia, judging by your expensive suit. Why?"

The thoughts running through Dazai's head were along the lines of :

'Just who is this girl? How does she know about the mafia? Surely my men weren't dumb enough to tell her who they work for. How does she know about my position? She surely didn't just guess that, right?? And why the fuck does a student have a gun? Does her family have connections within the underworld? She obviously doesn't fear death. Will she be a good addition to the mafia?'

• "What are you thinking about, baka? Answer me."

• He smiled sweetly at you, and firmly gripped your wrist, pushing it off his collar.

"There's someone who would like to meet you"

Before you can retort back, he continues,"You seek adventure, do you not? You want to feel something worthwhile. Something akin to facing death, something that will give you an adrenaline rush. I can give you all of that. If you come with me, that is."

• Mori was shocked when he heard about what had happened. He agreed with Dazai's decision to make you join the ranks. He needed such fearless crackheads in his organization.

• He paired you up with the double black, making you an executive too. You hadn't quite agreed to his terms, but he had offered you to just accompany the ginger and the brunette on a mission. And had let you make the final decision .

• You three had to go to an abandoned warehouse, where some people were tampering with the mafia goods. There, you saw how sadistic Dazai was. How manipulative and bad he was. It made you fall for him. Hard. Plus, you realized the risk of being a mafiosi. It was quite thrilling.

• When you got back, you had screamed at mori to let you join. Quite literally begged. And he, ofcourse, agreed. You hadn't even given him a chance to threaten your life, which was the usual norm, when a valuable asset wasn't willing to join the ranks of the feared organization.

• You trained with dazai. And purposely got hit. It turned you on. But you never mentioned anything, in fear of being rejected.

• Dazai, ofcourse, noticed this, and one fine day, confronted you about it. You told him just how much you love him. He was always intrigued by your sadistic side. He saw a part of himself in you. The daring, brave, smart side of yours was something so similar to himself, yet unique. You were seeking the same thing that he was, that is to feel something. He felt sadness, and loneliness, and he never had a purpose in life. You, someone who had it all, a good family, a great marksheet, and a pre set goal in life, were willing to give it away, just to feel something. He, someone who was stripped off of a normal childhood, was never given the opportunity to choose. He used to think that maybe he was to blame. Maybe if he had had better luck, he would have gotten a good childhood, a purpose. But now that he knows you, a genius, smart person, who had it all, but threw it away, he realized that maybe life really is worthless. Maybe, he wasn't to be blamed. And that, oddly enough, made him feel better. To know that no matter how much lady luck favors him, life would still be fucked up, and that it wasn't his fault, made him hate himself less.

• And so, you two became a thing.

• Let's just say, that both of you are equally freaky.

• You want him to dom u, and he gladly accepts

• You guys try it all... I mean, especially with guns.

• I can imagine you both sitting at a boring meeting, when you decide to edge him on, and you're not even touching him. Your gun is.

• You both claim atleast one spare room on every floor of the building, for your.... activities.

• You are like his praise queen.

• He loves that.

• Always rough. Always. And you guys are into spicing it up.

• Anyways, you both never decide to commit double suicide.

• Thats because dazai wants a beautiful way out, while you want to feel the thrill of facing death. You don't really want to die, you just want to know the feeling of almost dying. You want to feel something exhilarating.

• When Dazai decides to leave the mafia, you are all for it. As long as you get to stay by his side, you were ok with it.

• Like Midari, you are a very perceptive person, and can easily guess what's going on in someone's mind. Dazai was easy to read for you, as his thoughts were pretty similar to your own.

• You were smart, cunning, and could read peoples mind with ease. So it was pretty easy for you to guess what's going on in Dazai's mind, sometimes even predicting his next moves.

• You really fit in with the ada, coz that place is filled with crackheads, and you and dazai are no exception lol

• Also, you get along with Yosano really well.

• Like, if you weren't so loyal to dazai, you would have become Yosanos slave. So would i ngl

• Anyways, you and dazai always mess with kunikida. You two prank him till the breaking point. You two are such a menace in the office. Always skipping work, slacking off, but really shining when it comes to actual detective work, like solving mysteries.

• You are a valuable asset to the ada, coz 1. You are smart and 2. You can intimidate the enemy into giving in, thanks to your sadistic games.

• You are also a very good companion. You can easily understand what the other is feeling, and end up comforting the gang.

• I can imagine you roasting Kunikida for being such a nerd, but at the same time giving him accurate and well needed advice .

• You do the same for your bf, and the two of you have many late night convos about topic that Dazai had never discussed with anyone before. Because no one had quite understood him the way you did.

• Midari is actually a pretty deep character, and just like her, you have many layers. There's the sadistic side, the goofy side, the careless side, the intelligent side and the insightful nature.

• You would be his perfect partner, as you'd support his crazy, reckless ideas, but at the same time keep him afloat, and prevent him from drowning in his own thoughts.

[wickedgamesoyaoya]

Was it appropriate to long for someone who loved another?

The question was one that Iwaizumi refused to acknowledge for the last six years, after Oikawa questioned the trainer’s feelings for their mutual friend. The conversation bloomed the night of your two-year anniversary with the younger Miya twin. It was quite difficult to miss the dozens of photographs uploaded to your social media, broadcasting the romantic evening that was planned. Soon his entire feed became only…you.

The former captain raised an eyebrow curiously at his friend, who was battling several emotions that were threatening to contort his features. It was not fate that brought Oikawa Tooru to his best friend’s side that evening. Rather, the decision to invite Iwaizumi for drinks on that particular date was a calculated choice. There were some questions that were nagging at him, ones that demanded answers before he departed from his home country.

“You didn’t think they would last this long, did you?” The inquiry was hummed out in amusement as he trailed a finger along the rim of the glass planted ahead of him. From the side of his eye, he noticed Iwaizumi shift uncomfortably in his seat.

“It’s good. We wanted her to be happy, and she is. So, it’s a good thing they lasted this long.” His words lacked an earnest vigour, and not even the straightest composure could sell the packaged response as the truth.

“Hmm. Oh, Iwa-chan. When will you be honest with me?” Exhaling a weighed sigh, Oikawa shook his head before taking a swing of the liquor. Or at least, when would he be honest with himself?

“What are you blabbering about now, Shittykawa?” The narrowing of his eyelids into slits was meant to resonate a sense of anger, or at minimum irritation. Yet, it was fear that was burning bright in his irises.

“Is it really appropriate to long for someone who is in love with another?” It was a dangerous question to be spewing, Oikawa knew the insinuations laying at the foundation were sure to provoke some dormant emotions. And so, when sorrow forced the other male to flicker his gaze to the opposite direction, the former captain blew out a low hum in understanding.

“I don’t long for her, you idiot,” After swallowing the lump in his throat, he attempted to brush off the comment, rather unsuccessfully. While Oikawa found his friend’s first protest to be a blatant lie, what followed next was enough to cause him to drop his face onto his palm. “She’s like a little sister to me.”

Despite Iwaizumi’s desire to present the admission as factual, calling you his little sister returned the crawling sensation that was prompted earlier to return to his skin; and he had to ponder whether the bitter taste in his mouth was from the liquor or from the deceit dripping from his lips.

“Iwa-chan, you know what they say. Denial is the first stage.” The humorous comment was accompanied by a gentle laugh. While his questions were completely shut down; the physical reactions that his inquiries elicited was enough to confirm his suspicions.

Unrequited love was tragic; but what made the circumstances substantially worse was that it began with mutual love. The only issue was that neither party dared to cross the boundaries between friendship and relationship, afraid to lose the other in the process.

“Shut up.” Neither boy was convinced or impacted by the half-hearted demand, rather it was silently understood that its sole purpose was to fill the empty space that was left for a confession that would not come.

However, the conversation laid a layer of bricks on Iwaizumi’s shoulders, shackling him to the truth he was desperately avoiding. It comes as no surprise that for the remainder of the evening, he could not muster the courage to scroll through any of his social media. For if he did, the action would be admitting something he promised to always keep buried.  

Tonight, the question returned to the forefront of his thoughts, mocking him for a weakness he despised himself for possessing. But it was not longing that was behind the uneasiness bordering nausea flooding him. No – it was the thought of what could have been.

What if he said something? What if you did? Would you have been happier – not knowing the one who was the cause of your broken heart? Or would he have stolen from you a happiness that you could never receive with him?  

Sinking his face into his palms, he clenched his eyelids shut, aiming to shove aside the haunting thoughts. He remained in the crouched position for twenty minutes, unable to gather the energy to adjust his posture until he heard slight stirring from the bed ahead of him.

“Akari?” From under the duvet, you raised a hand to beckon for your sister who was coincidentally, not in the bedroom at the moment. The impact of the alcohol had worn off considerably by now, leaving only an irksome strain in your temples.

“She’s downstairs.” The trainer debated internally whether to approach you or not, and upon hearing the little groan that was offered in response, he opted to wait before abandoning his post. “How are you feeling?” Resting his arms along his thighs, he laced his fingers together, stretching them anxiously on either side.

A verbal response did not immediately follow his line of questioning. As you raised to a seating position on the bed, your gaze dropped to the stuffed animal that was snug against your side. Your memories of what transpired earlier in the evening was lagging, returning to you at a slow rate that was highly antagonizing. Though, the pieces that you did remember were the ones involving your best friend whose gaze you could not meet. Maybe if you were younger, still justifying your decisions with the motto of no regrets, it would have been an easier task. But you knew what was said tonight was dangerously careless.

“Tired.” Whispering the response, you brought the plushie to your lap, gently brushing your fingers against the fur. While you did remember the accidental damage, your intoxicated state inflicted on your friendship; you did not remember how you came to possess the toy within your grasp.

“Do you remember anything?” Iwaizumi prodded, testing whether it was appropriate to initiate the conversation you were dreading to have.

“Pieces.” This time you responded promptly; emotion devoid in your mumbled response. “Though, I don’t remember asking Bo to get this little baby, so I guess I saw him?” You aimed to spit the final word of the sentence with venom, and yet it spilled from your lips, coated with a hint of fondness, rather than disgust – something that Iwaizumi caught on, twinging the spear planted inside of his chest.

“You did.” Ignoring the discomfort stretching along his torso, he forcefully stabilized his breathing, drawing longer and heavier breaths through his nose. He didn’t know what was expected of him now. His role in your life had always been one of a protector – but now, with the truth exposed as an open wound, what could he do? What should he do?

“I thought so. I was hoping that part was a dream.” Chewing on the inside of your cheek, a humourless melody was blown out. While you were unable to recall what the conversation was, an image of your fiancé had projected inside of your mind. In the memory he wore his vulnerability openly for you, and you despised how it made you want to comfort him. How you wanted to claim his pain as your own, even though your own heart was suffering from the pain he inflicted on it.

“Why didn’t you answer me? I could have been there for you. If it’s about what you said…” With his throat constricting, he was unable to complete the sentence. But you were quick to fill the silence, aiming to end the conversation before it could develop further.

“I wasn’t thinking straight, Hajime. Just ignore what I said, okay.” You couldn’t do this. Not right now. Not when your heart was already breaking from your last love – it would not survive additional pain from your first one.  

“What if I don’t want to ignore it?” He did not intend to push the topic forward without your consent, but the question left his mouth before he could bite his tongue. Despite being regarded as the one who held a considerable amount of control of emotions, his resolve to remain in control weakened with each passing second.

“Why? So, you can tell me that you didn’t feel the same way? That you’re sorry? Because if that’s what you’re doing to say, please don’t. I don’t think I can handle it.” Drawing in a deep breath, you tipped your head up, fixing your attention on the ceiling, hoping the liquid hanging on your lashes would not depart. “And if you’re going to tell me that I was wrong, that you did see me that way…What’s the point now?” Sinking your teeth into your bottom lip, your eyelids fluttered shut, granting the tears full reign over your cheeks. “You didn’t tell me it when it would have made a difference.”

The sight of you falling apart filled him with dread. How could he despise the younger Miya twin for his idiotic behaviour when he too caused you similar hurt? How could he have been so damn oblivious?

The only difference between him and Osamu, was that he didn’t care for his own pain. He didn’t desire your pity or sympathy. He wanted your happiness.

The distance between you two could no longer be tolerated. He quickly rose to his feet, making his way to the mattress, before guiding you into his arms. When you were in his embrace, you slowly placed your arms around his middle limply. 

“I’m sorry, y/n.” What he was apologizing did not have to be stated, you knew what it was and that was enough.

Because you were sorry too… for what could have been, and what had been lost.

Let’s do it again, shall we - what if 

Masterlist - Previous - Next

A/N: no one kill me, LMAO. 

taglist: @idiot-juice-enthusiast @vicassa  @yourstarvic @bringmelily @newfriendjen @hikarichannn @anime-simp @tsukkismamagucci @laughingismorefun @astronomyturtle @shegrewupwithoutafather @hyskoa1998 @deephumandragonperson @pretty-setter-bois @raenebalgaire @sugawarabby @justanotherfangirl2 @keijisworld @90s-belladonna @momoinot @sempiternal-amour @cherryblosom111 @yqshirov @haikyuufairy @volleybloop @bloody-bella @sadkaashistan @seikamuzu @namyari  @toaster-stick @coconut-dreamz @roseestuosity @prcttylittlcthing @uzumakioden @nerdynstoned @kenmasgameboy @kaiju-teeth @ouijaeater15 @aquariarose @fandomtrashpandasposts @helloalex80​ @stfucanunot @envyusshades @cuddlesslut @seijohiseliterambles​  @meiikuki @cuddlejeongin @tchalameme @ditu-m9​ @elianetsantana​ 

Taglist continued in the comments from my personal  ❣️

[dhufflebee]

of t-shirts and hoodies (a Glee fanfiction)

One-shot Fandom: Glee Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Jesse St. James/Rachel Berry Characters: Jesse St. James; Rachel Berry  Additional Tags: Fluff; Cuddles; Late Night Conversations; gratuitous references to the Michelin Man; discussions about clothes; couples' clichés; they're just very cute is all; Implied Sexual Content

Also read on:  AO3  |  ff.net Summary: Rachel and Jesse have a late-night conversation (and a winter morning surprise) about clothes and couples’ clichés.

Apparently these two are the only thing that can get me motivated enough to write as of lately.

Anyway, this is just a fluffy little slice of life (?) that I really couldn’t get out of my head. Rachel and Jesse are so cute; I miss them.

Still half asleep, Jesse heard a sound he didn’t recognize, and stirred under the duvet. His mind wanted to attribute the sound to the pleasant dream he’d been dreaming and couldn’t quite remember—yet the low, uneven sound wasn’t stopping. Jesse forced his eyes open and blinked a few times to regain some clarity of mind. His brain finally caught up with his ears and he recognized the noises in his bedroom: rummaging, feet shuffling, annoyed murmurs. Jesse started, alarmed by the presence of an intruder, and readied himself to jump off the bed to grab his baseball bat.

After a couple of seconds, though, the reality of the situation washed over him—It’s just Rachel. Jesse exhaled and shook his head, smiling. She’d moved into his apartment the previous month, but the novelty of living together still took Jesse by surprise every now and again.

Jesse finally emerged from under the covers in time to see Rachel put her pajamas back on, frowning like she’d received the worst news of her life. She then got back under the duvet by his side, and crossed her arms on her chest while staring at the ceiling. Jesse was frowning as well now, and he turned towards her: “Rach, what’s up?”

“I cannot believe you don’t own a single loose-fitting shirt!” she said, emphatically.

“What?!”

Rachel finally turned to look at him, eyes ablaze. “I said, I cannot believe you—”

“I heard what you said. What does it mean?” Jesse asked, bewildered.

Rachel huffed, the ghost of a smile on her lips. “Look at me. I had to put my pajamas back on,” she said, raising her eyebrows, clearly waiting for an answer from Jesse, who was at a loss for words. “My own PJs, Jesse! After sexy times!” she explained, petulantly.

Jesse burst out laughing. “Sexy times?”

Rachel scrunched her nose and stuck her tongue out at him, and Jesse shuffled under the covers until he reached her and enveloped her in a hug. She cuddled up to him and entangled her legs with his, humming comfortably. Jesse’s heart swelled with affection—How was I ever able to sleep before having Rachel here with me, God only knows.

“I still don’t get it, though. What’s with my shirts?” Jesse asked, stroking Rachel’s hair.

“Oh, it’s nothing. It’s stupid.”

“It’s bothering you, so it clearly isn’t a trivial matter. Besides, I nearly took you for an intruder, and you know how effective I can be with that baseball bat.” He felt Rachel chuckle against his chest—surely one of the most pleasant sensations life could offer.

“It’s just—” Rachel began, shrugging a little. “You know that thing you always see in movies? where the woman is so settled into their life together or their home or whatever that she can just like, wear his clothes? Especially in the morning, when she wakes up after a night together.” Rachel shook her head and waved her hand, like she was trying to shoo an innocuous but persistent fly. “It’s silly, I know. I’m sorry.”

“It’s actually kind of adorable,” Jesse said, before kissing the crown of her head softly. “Why all that fuss earlier, then? I do own clothes, you know,” he added with a smirk.

“I know you do,” Rachel exclaimed, with a smile and a playful swat on his chest. Then she frowned again, and Jesse had to resist the urge to smooth the line between her brows with his thumb. Instead, he caressed her cheek in that way he knew she liked. Rachel closed her eyes and hummed softly, and Jesse was afraid his heart would explode at any moment.

“I’ve always dreamed,” Rachel mused after a while, “that I would be able to just—take a look at my husband’s side of the closet and immediately find a loose, well-loved t-shirt to put on when I woke up, or even just a big hoodie during winter nights, you know?” A wistful smile was dancing on Rachel’s lips. Jesse (whose breath had hitched in pleasant surprise when she’d so casually said husband) looked intently at her face, and smiled in return.

“Only problem is,” Rachel said, quirking an eyebrow, “you don’t own any hoodies, and all your tops are tight cause you’re so lean and fit… Not that I’m complaining, mind you,” she added, a little breathlessly, while slowly tracing the muscles on Jesse’s abdomen with her fingers.

Jesse, for his part, was certain he’d lose any ability to understand what Rachel was saying, if she insisted on doing that—his brain was two seconds away from short-circuiting, and his skin burned under her touch. Jesse struggled to steady his breath and mentally begged Rachel to stop, because he wanted to listen to her and talk to her, and she was making it unfairly hard. (Then, when she stopped, he cursed himself for ever thinking that.)

Holding Rachel in his arms, feeling her that close to him, was intoxicating, but at least Jesse’s mind was clearing up. “I can go get some large t-shirts tomorrow, if you want,” he offered.

“Thanks, but that wouldn’t be the same,” Rachel answered shaking her head, her hair falling everywhere. She then caught a strand and started fiddling with it, almost anxiously. “The point is that the shirt should be yours, you know? Even better if it’s old and loose and soft—not the right size for my body, yet barely big enough to contain all my love.”

Rachel had spoken so quietly that Jesse wouldn’t have heard her if they hadn’t been that close. His heart swelled up, and once again he felt like he was on fire, only that time it was the steady, comforting warmth of affection spreading all through him—God, he loved her so much.

Jesse hugged Rachel tighter, the space between them almost nonexistent. She sneaked an arm around his waist and murmured: “That was so sappy”. She scrunched her nose against his chest, and he kissed the top of her head, a smile on his lips.

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

Rachel closed the door behind her and hung her coat and purse on the rack nearby. She was trying to be as quiet as possible, so not to spoil her surprise for Jesse—she’d come back home way earlier than usual, having left school before her lessons even ended just because she missed Jesse and wanted to see and hug him. Their respective schedules were a mess that month, what with her studying and him just starting rehearsals for his show, and they’d seen very little of each other. Late nights and snatchy Sundays and the rare, rushed lunch were not nearly enough.

She left her shoes near the door and padded towards the kitchen, were she could hear Jesse humming and handling plates in that noisy way of his. Rachel was glad Jesse was distracted, because that meant she could surprise him with a hug from behind—something she loved to do, and that he endearingly called ‘the sneaky koala’.

Rachel walked up to Jesse and put her arms around his waist; she felt his body tense under her touch, then relax after a couple of seconds. “Hey, Rach,” he said, a smile in his voice.

“Hi, baby,” Rachel answered, her voice muffled by Jesse’s hoodie. Wait, what? A hoodie? Rachel stepped back and stared at Jesse’s back with a puzzled expression. He was wearing a big hoodie over what appeared to be several oversized t-shirts—a rather warm outfit for a winter morning but one that was decidedly not Jesse’s style.

After a beat, Jesse turned around as well, his head tilted to the side. “What are you doing here, Rachel? Aren’t you supposed to be at school now?”

“What are you doing dressed like that, Jesse?” Rachel sputtered, gesturing wildly in his direction. “You look like the Michelin Man!”

Jesse chuckled, and Rachel could swear he was blushing a little, too. “You first,” he urged.

“I just wanted to surprise you is all,” she answered, her expression softening. “We’ve seen so little of each other lately, and I just really missed you.”

Jesse smiled and enveloped Rachel in a hug, resting his chin on her head. She sighed contentedly against the soft fabric of his hoodie. “This feels really weird, you with all these layers and stuff. What’s going on?”

“I’m just—” Jesse began, a note of uncertainty in his voice. “I’m trying to speedrun the process of making these clothes feel well-worn.”

“What?”

“I’ve been wearing all these shirts whenever I’ve been home alone in the past week,” he explains, the red on his cheeks deepening. “The plan was to just do it for a little while more, and then surprise you one morning when you opened my side of the closet.”

Rachel stared intently at Jesse, going almost weak at the knees at the fondness in his eyes. Her brain was trying to remember something, but the details were fuzzy except for the vague recollection of a late-night conversation about clothes. “You mean—”

“Yeah, so you can put on a big t-shirt of mine when you wake up,” Jesse said, bashfully.

The force of the memory slammed Rachel like an oncoming train. She couldn’t believe he’d taken her sleepy, nonsensical rambling that seriously. Her heart swelled up, and she felt she was about to burst at the seams with the intensity of her love for Jesse. She stood on tiptoes, put a hand on his neck and pulled him into a kiss. He smiled against her lips, before deepening the kiss and pressing himself flush against her.

Rachel broke the kiss apart after a while, happy that Jesse looked as flushed and out of breath as she was. She smiled and thanked him, resting a hand on his chest. “I can’t believe you’d do this for me… It was just a silly thing, really.”

Jesse tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, smiling softly. “Of course, Rachel. You know I’d do anything to make you happy.”

Rachel bit her lip. Missing Jesse made her heart ache on the daily, but at that moment she felt so grateful and in love that she feared her heart would explode nonetheless.

“Um, baby?” Rachel said, pulling playfully at the hem of his hoodie. “Do you think you need help getting out of these shirts?”

Jesse laughed out loud, tilting his head back. “I think I can manage!”

Rachel huffed in mock exasperation and wiggled her eyebrows at him.

“Oh, you meant it like that,” Jesse exclaimed, smirking. “Then I definitely need you to help me.”

“Good,” Rachel mused, before giving him a peck on the lips and tugging at his arm so that he’d follow her. “I wonder how it’s going to feel like, getting out of bed and finally wearing a t-shirt that belongs to the man I love.” She smiled at Jesse, who was beaming and looking at her so eagerly that she felt heat spread through her body.

Maybe I should make a habit of ditching school to come home in the morning.

[glassmenagerieofmusesarc]

Let’s talk about two important aspects of Charlie’s character and how they develop in Season 2; Co-dependency and guilt.

Both of these aspects of Charlie’s character are well established in his first season storyline episodes and flashbacks. 

Codependency

Charlie is shown as being very co-dependent on Liam. He gives up a dream of his because his brother asks and he jumps down the rabbit hole because he feels the drugs are coming between him and his brother. Even though he knows that the drugs have changed his brother’s personality in ways he doesn’t like, he’s more afraid of losing that relationship than losing himself. This tendency to latch on also explains why he is so susceptible to the addiction in the first place. When his brother decides to leave the band, the vacuum of that relationship sends him into an even deeper spiral. He tries to again emulate his brother by dating the girl with the Winston Churchill memorabilia. He wants to take a job and settle down to repair that new gap but his relationship to heroin is now even stronger than his dependence on his brother.

Enter the island; Charlie is forced to break his dependency on drugs and immediately bonds with Claire in their place. This is partially because she draws out his more positive side, a side he’s lost in the years of his drug addition. More importantly, he believes that she needs him, just as he needs her to distract from his recovery. Not a great reason to fall for someone but while he is clean, it works out fairly well. Claire depends on him and he helps to relieve some of the stress of having the baby initially. Still, Charlie overinvests very quickly as shown by the way he proposes a whole new life with her when they leave the island. He’s way more serious about it than she even knows. 

Guilt

When we meet Charlie, he wants to go into seminary and is very dedicated to his religion, specifically Catholicism which is 1. a very pointed choice for a Brit and 2. a very clear indication that guilt is a motivating factor in his life. After he turns away from this path, the only way he can avoid his guilt is through his drug use. No one thinks he’s more pathetic and terrible than he does. The shame he feels after failing at sobriety in the real world and giving in to the temptation of stealing the Winston Churchill plate sends him spiraling.

His entire recovery on the island carries over these religious overtones. Locke tests him three times to get his drugs back but he refuses to do the drugs once he gets them back. His recovery is also greatly helped by Rose helping him reconnect with his faith. Finally, we get to the not at all subtle, borderline cruel use of the Virgin Mary statues as symbolism for his relapse into heroin addiction in season 2. 

(Also, lol btw Claire positing that maybe Charlie is some really religious dude after finding the statue is the most amazing and layered way to pull these two themes together *chef’s kiss*)

Season 2 So Far (About 6 episodes in):

So how do these two themes contribute to Charlie’s development in season 2 so far? Charlie hasn’t been on screen too often so far. But there are a few scenes that imply he is using again and not doing well in his relationship with Claire as a result. Aside from the fact it’s highly questionable for a drug addict to be a primary caretaker for an infant, we see Charlie becoming more inconsistent. In Locke’s episode after they have a disagreement about waking the baby up, Charlie has mysteriously wandered off. When he comes back, he snaps at Claire and Locke, a clear indication he snuck off to get high. 

We can also tell a lot from what Claire reveals about her feelings on the disagreement, which she does not characterize as a fight even though Charlie later does. Claire’s concerns revolve around how involved Charlie is despite the fact they have barely known each other more than a month. She mentions feeling like they’re married and doesn’t know how she feels about this level of codependency. These anxieties are only heightened when he returns and becomes jealous of Locke. Clearly, his more possessive and insecure side, the side that needs Claire in his life to be okay is starting to wear him down. He sees Locke being helpful, and rather than thinking he is a threat to any romantic relationship between him and Claire, he thinks that anyone else getting involved could make Claire realize that she doesn’t need him as much as he needs her. He knows the drugs might make him lose her and he selfishly thinks he can have both dependencies like he did during his time touring with his brother. Yet he knows from experience, people will only tolerate that behavior for so long. The drugs are playing on his paranoia, certainly not helped by the pressure of the situation.

What I think is even more interesting though, is his conversation with Locke afterwards. In this conversation, he tells his side of the disagreement. He calls the disagreement a fight unlike Claire and begins to say negative things about Claire and her ability to raise Aaron. Aside from the obvious explanation that drug use makes people say all sorts of awful things they never would when sober, this conversation also returns to the theme of guilt. The fact that he calls it a fight shows how bad he feels and how nervous he is about his connection to Claire. The statements he makes about Claire not being a good caretaker, saying she is irresponsible and can’t handle the pressure, are projections of his own guilt for taking care of the baby while using. Drug addicts will do anything to justify their use and so by putting himself above Claire, he can tell himself the drug use isn’t really interfering with caring for Aaron. Dismissing Claire allows him to believe that he’s still the more stable force in the relationship. Totally fucked up and toxic mindset, but it’s heroin. I also love that Locke totally calls him out for his hypocrisy. Charlie can’t even meet his eyes after Locke implies he knows that Charlie is using again because of that guilt.

Where will this go? I don’t know but I desperately wish that Claire had found out what was in the statue the first night she saw it. She could’ve stopped him from relapsing by reassuring him that she needs him before things got tense between them. She could’ve laid out her expectations for him to be sober if he’s going to be around the baby. He knew this would be the conversation they had which is part of why he lied--can’t break a promise if you never made it!

[thenocturnalblossom]

Rebirth

She did not cry once back in Night City when her life started falling to dust around her after the ill-fated heist.

Oh, she had come very close mind you. Many times. Plagued by thoughts of Jackie's death. The relic slowly killing her inside and the fact that she had been playing unwilling host to a long dead failed terrorist.

But no tears would ever fall. She wouldn't give that wretched hive of chaos not one drop.

So she endured it all as best she could. Ran around all over, chasing leads that might end up leading her to her salvation.

Ran.

Ran.

Ran.

And of course, at the end of all the running, there would be no happy ending that awaited her. Just a seemed surety of her death. Not for a lack of trying and at least she had longer than what she thought to live and most importantly, the chip was out of her head.

So, she began to settle her affairs. Packed up her apartment. Began transferring the money she had been saving up out of her bank accounts. Deleted every single fixer contact and any other contact that was not Viktor, Misty, or Mama Welles. One additional contact she kept as well; unnecessary and foolish perhaps but still it remained there.

So she returned back to the city, resigned to her fate. She would not stay though. Oh no. If she was going to meet her eventual demise, it would not be there.

Then she went to see her friends to bid them farewell. They understood why she was leaving; it was too much for her to stay, too much had transpired.

So they sent her off with sad eyes, hugs, and well wishes. Made her promise that she would keep in touch from time to time. That she could do. For as much time as she had left.

After that, she bought a plane ticket and went back to St. Martin. To the town where she grew up, slightly different but mostly the same as it ever was. It was a homecoming, both painful and necessary. She wanted to be where her grandmother was; where her mother was too. She could bear death here, as long as she was where their bones lay.

She had found a place to stay while she was there. A small apartment above a junk shop run by a sweet elderly couple. It reminded her of the home she shared with her grandmother all those years ago. A comforting thing for her.

Once she had gotten settled, she had gone out and traveled to the grave of her grandmother, next to the beach where they both spent countless amounts of time together when she was a girl. She brought flowers with her and had cleaned up the small headstone and the area around it before placing them down.

Then, she had sat down beside the grave and just watched the waves of the ocean on the beach. Let the sounds around her fill her ears and the sight of the waters soothe her.

She sat there for hours, together with her grandmother. Like old times.

Once the sun began to set, the sky painted orange and purple, is when she finally began to rise from her spot. Tired and not tired. She touched the headstone softly, whispering a soft goodbye to Angelique before turning to leave.

It was at that time, however, that she was struck with a sudden urge. A need. To go towards the waters.

It was as if something or someone was calling to her. Gentle and familiar but also unfamiliar at the same.

"Come." It had said, a feeling like no other overtaking her. " Let the waters heal you, my love."

She could not resist such a call. Weak and broken and aching as she was.

So she went. One foot after the other, shedding her clothes along the way. It was like she was stripping herself of the barriers that she had put up while trying to survive the hells of the corporate and merc world. Bit by bit, she let the evening air touch her. A light, airy feeling.

Then, there she was at the water's edge. Bare as she had come into the world and just as vulnerable too. Not a soul around to see this private moment.

"Enter." The voice had beckoned to her. "Do not be afraid."

She wasted no time after that. Stepping into the cool ocean, she sunk into the waters feeling an almost sort of relief wash over her. She floated there and began to reflect on all that had happened to her. All of her failures and mistakes; the many hurts and heartaches she had bottled up inside.

She could feel her emotions threatening to break free. An image came to her then, one she knew well from pictures and a single video that she had seen many times before. The voice that had come to her now known.

Her mother's visage became clearer; eyes full of sorrow as if she could feel her daughter's pain.

"Let go, my sweet Viergenie." her mother said to her. " You are safe here. Nothing can hurt you now."

The dam inside of her finally broke.

She began weeping then, loud and uncontrollable. In the waters of her youth; being embraced, loved, and cared for. It was overwhelming and powerful. Beautiful in all its layers.

Another voice, again familiar and beloved, whispered in her ears while she cried.

"Be free now, my child. My lovely Genie, find your peace through your mother and mine's embrace in this ocean. Know that is this only the first step in your healing. You are going to be reborn and gain another chance at life. Always trust in me, your mother, and these waters. We will never lead you astray."

After that, there were no more voices. Just herself alone, still floating underneath the now night sky, stars as bright as diamonds above her. Tears subsiding, she sent words of gratitude to the two women she loved most in this world. Her heart and mind far lighter than they had been in a long, long time.

[misc-headcanons]

500+ Followers Event: 2nd Place Scenario

(For @hanamiyaaaa​, who requested a Law/F!Reader scenario with the prompt: “Lie to me, then.” Hope you enjoy!)

Word count: 1221

Law had always tried to avoid getting attached to people ever since Corazon died. To him, it was the most logical solution: he can't lose anyone if he doesn't have anyone, after all. But over time, as he formed his own crew and sailed around the world with them, fighting alongside each other through thick and thin--he grew to love them as nakama and as family. He was initially anxious when he realized that he loved his crew, but he decided that he would just harden his heart from now on; he loved his crew, but that was it. Nobody else. And then...____. Somehow, she'd managed to melt that layer of ice around him before he'd even realized it. His thoughts drifted to her more often, his face would feel warm and his chest would feel light as air whenever she was near him. He assumed that it was because she was a new addition to the crew, so of course he would feel a close sense of kinship with her. But deep down, he knew that it wasn't that simple. He never thought about how soft Bepo's skin looked (or...well, his fur, in this case). He never dreamt about Shachi shyly asking to spend the night in his quarters. Even if he knew that what he felt for ____ wasn't as platonic as he might have hoped, he refused to accept that. He could afford to love her as his crewmate. But to accept that he'd fallen in love with her was too risky. He can't let his heart be so exposed, so easy to twist and break if the wrong person (namely Doflamingo) found out how vulnerable she made him. 

____ didn't know why Law had been so distant and cold lately. She thought that things had been going well between them...did she do something wrong? After three full days of him avoiding her had gone by (walking out of the room when she entered, not speaking to her whenever she asked him something outside of a few short words), she couldn't take it anymore. When Law had wordlessly left after dinner, refusing to even look at her when she'd offered to take his plate, she followed him out of the dining cabin and into the hallway of the Polar Tang. 

"Cap." 

Law froze when he heard ____'s voice. 

"Is there...Are you alright?" Her voice was soft. "You've been acting a bit off recently, but only to me. Are you upset with me or something?" She hesitated for a moment and racked her brain for what she could have done to make him behave so coldly. "Whatever it is, I'm sorry. Just…" She sighed and looked pleadingly at the back of her captain as he stood still. "Can you just tell me what I did?"

Law bit the inside of his cheek and stared straight ahead. He'd never meant to make her upset by avoiding her; he had thought that by keeping his distance from her for a while, the feelings he had might start to fade. But instead they'd only gotten stronger. She was always in the back of his mind, no matter how much he tried to focus on something else. And now she was right behind him, sounding so guilty and confused and hurt. He'd hurt her.

He couldn't bring himself to turn around and face her. "...You didn't do anything wrong," he replied. 

He heard her take a few steps closer to him. "Then why have you only been acting like this towards me?" She crossed her arms. "Look, whatever it is, I want to make it right so that we can go back to…" She sighed and threw her hand around. "I don't know, talking to each other! Occasionally making eye contact every once in a while. Being able to stay in the same room without you immediately leaving when I walk in." Her voice wobbled a bit as she vented her frustration. "I thought we were close. I thought that you…" She trailed off and ran her hand through her hair. "Just tell me why you've been acting like this."

Law felt his fingernails digging into his palms. His mind was racing for a way to explain his behavior without having to confront his feelings for her. "I…" His knuckles tightened. She didn't deserve to be lied to like this. "I don't know if I can tell you," he replied quietly. "I'm--I'm not upset with you, you didn't do anything wrong. I'm sorry that I made you think that." His voice was slightly shaky as he fumbled for an explanation. "You've been a valuable crewmate, and obviously I care about you. But there's something else there when I think about you. Something I don't want to admit." His face felt like it was on fire, wondering what her expression was as she heard him stumble his way through this; he was too nervous to turn around and face her on his own, though. "Something I'm...afraid to admit." 

____ was silent behind him, eyes narrowing as she tried to piece together what he was really saying. After a few moments of watching him, her eyes widened a bit and her gaze softened. She walked up behind him and put a hand on his shoulder; he immediately tensed up and his breath hitched. "Well," she said, her voice soft with a slightly playful lilt to it, "Lie to me, then."

Law furrowed his brows and frowned, and he turned his head slightly to face her. "...What?"

____ saw just how pink his cheeks were and smirked. "If you can't tell me the truth just yet, then lie to me. Like...hmm..." She put a hand under her chin. "Say that you were avoiding me because you caught a disease or something." Her smile widened. "One where you can't be around beautiful women for too long, or else your temperature will get so high that you pass out." She pantomimed a person falling onto a floor with her hands. "So you had to quarantine yourself and stay away from me, or else--smack."

Law stared at her for a while and his shoulders slowly relaxed. "I…" Even if he hadn't been brave enough to actually say it, he'd finally let her know how he felt. In the moment it was terrifying, and still was right now, but also...liberating. It felt like a weight on his chest had been lifted. He gave her a small smile. "Yes. That's...that's why. But I think it's passed now, so we should be able to interact again without any problems."

____ caressed the back of his shoulder with her thumb, and Law immediately felt goosebumps raise on his skin. To his surprise, she tilted her head back a bit and let out an incredibly fake cough. "Oh nooo," she said dramatically, "I think the disease might be contagious, even after a patient's cured! I can't look at a handsome man without..." She glanced back at Law and held the back of her hand to her forehead as she pretended to swoon. 

Law rolled his eyes and pulled her back up; when he heard her snort as she laughed, he let out a small chuckle. "Sounds like a dangerous disease. Luckily, I know a good doctor.

[doomedandstoned]

Doors To No Where Drop Rowdy Grunge-Punk-Desert Spinner ‘Darkness Falls’

~Doomed & Stoned Debuts~

Review by Billy Goate

Before us is the latest record from Santa Cruz heavies DOORS TO NO WHERE, a band new to these pages but which has played alongside many of our favorite West Coast acts, including KooK, Worship, and Year of the Cobra. As May is Mental Health Awareness month, it's good timing to be introduced to 'Darkness Falls' (2021). "This came to me during the pandemic," says frontman Marc Lewis. "I was watching so many folks struggling from all walks of life. Struggle isn’t biased -- it can hit anyone."

The album lyrically was a concept album in a way on the topic of mental health and its impact. I'm truly passionate about this and want it not to be such a taboo thing to talk about or seen as a sign of weakness.

Composed during the pandemic's most clutching moments and recorded with Aaron Cooper of Pylon Productions, the album features longtime collaborators Marc Lewis (guitar, vox), Marc Prefontaine (bass), and Pete Testorff (drums).

"Lie, Lie, Lie," dashes off to a furious Foo Fighters pace as we begin the record, with Pete Testorff's fervor and panache paving the way for Marc Lewis to deliver the three word chorus with all the snarl of a man who just wants to break his rusty chains and run.

"The riff in Lie, Lie, Lie," Marc tells Doomed & Stoned, "was written off something I heard Pete doing one night during sound check. He was playing his whole kit and then doing those snare hits you hear at the beginning of the song."

There's some nice give-and-take between Marc Lewis' guitar and Marc Prefontaine's bass that betwixt the introduction and chorus. I didn't pick it up at first listen, but it definitely grabbed me the next several spins through.

The grungy lyrics match the pissed-off spirit of the music, as the song mourns the loss of a common reference denominator for truth, warning that in its absence there is division, calamity, and ruin. "Together we rise, together we fall." Marc amplifies these powerful moments for us:

This track centers around the idea of false power and how someone could start to believe their own lies and self-hype, while others could fall for it. It can become a toxic relationship or even a cult kind of thing.

It may be hard to remember this far into this surreal "pause" in our world's history, but we too were afraid, alone, and angry for much of the pandemic's wake -- especially in those uncertain early moments when we followed the spread of this strange disease from China to Italy and onto the shores of Seattle and New York.

Darkness Falls by Doors To No Where

The aptly named "Fade" comes next, presenting at a doom's crawl with a sombre arpeggiated motif that summons the spirit of Trouble and Saint Vitus. Or you might hear a twisted, doomed-up variation of Metallica's "Enter The Sandman" in that low-end omen. "Fade was built of the rolling riff and bend," Marc explains. "I wanted it fat and raunchy." Certainly Pale Divine and Dirty Grave come to mind as I seek to match the mood with bands of similar spirit.

Then comes the pained chorus: "Run, run baby," which Marc illuminates in a very personal light:

"Fade" is about a friend of mine who is no longer with us. She was a larger than life personality that was loved by all. She played the personna and role of the happy-go-lucky person. She thought that's why people loved her and why they were friends. She was actually really struggling with mental health and depression though. She would behave in a way that she thought people wanted her to behave, while she was actually suffering. Those around her did not realize her pain or that their influence was making things worse. For years she would self-medicate with drugs and alcohol and that was celebrated by those around her.

I had started to see signs of her pain and tried to reach out. Unfortunately, I was too late. Any time anyone would reach out for help, she would disappear. The chorus line “disappearing one” is a reference to her pushing away and hiding from help. When she passed (sucide) everyone spoke of how special she was and how much they loved her. I was angry and sad. Why didn't more folks try and help her? My perspective was that coddling her addictions and self-medicated escape helped her to the grave.

The lyrics “We all love to see you fade, but don’t you go away” and “We all love to see you soar, but don’t you fade away” are references to the idea that sometimes humans are selfish in their relationships. Meaning that someone may give me the attention and things I need without me being aware of the sacrifices the other person is making.

"Worship The Machine" is another hefty doomer, with some wild guitar noodling contrasted against a rhythm that is quite machine-like as it dances stoically along its predestined chordal path. "Worship The Machine was written to be heavy and groovy," the band notes. "We wanted it to have a certain feel that pushed hard, while still having that chugging along kinda vibe." Closing in on the three-minute mark, Pete turns loose on the drums like a man possessed and the intensity continues when the rest of the band joins in, taking us right across the finish line to a crashing conclusion.

Darkness Falls by Doors To No Where

"I wanna live, but I'm dying" are words I can certainly relate to, not just in 2020, but in 2021, where the lingering impact of such a global (and personal) disruption is still very much a struggle on the daily. Turns out, my intuition was not far from the lyrical intent: "This song is all about the addiction to social media and how it corresponds with one's self esteem, mood, and self-worth. The social media world has become this giant machine and some are literally addicted to it. It creates this tool of status. I think it has truly impacted how people feel about themselves and others."

"Got Mine" is up next and this one is the most punkish track yet. It reminds me a lot of Soundgarden's periodic forays into punk, with songs like "Nazi Driver," "Never Named," and "Kickstand." On this point, Marc is clear: "Got Mine is influenced by the fact that I love old punk rock. I love the energy and the attitude. We wanted it to be loose but with tight stops and control." As to its meaning, we're told:

This song is about a revolution with the main character being selfish and self serving. So the character is done with the revolution or fight once their needs and wants are met. They are not really looking out for the cause or to tackle bigger issues for the good of humanity. They are actually looking for what is best for them. The chorus refers to a cold heart and lack of empathy.

Darkness Falls by Doors To No Where

All you lovers of southern sludge will dig "Policy" with its Goatsnake meets Acid Bath groove and sassy guitar lead. Speaking of Soundgarden, I really dig the Kim Thayilesque breakdown and stinging solo two-minutes in, though some may draw parallels with Crowbar here. These are all, of course, points of reference to try to do the near impossible: put the emotional experience of one listener (e.g. yours truly) into words. In the end, it's up to you to listen and find a favorite of your own. For my money, "Policy" is where it's at. Check out the fantastic dual guitar interplay two-and-a-half minutes in! Down, eat your heart out.

"Policy" is another riff I wrote to play off of a groove I heard Pete do during warm ups. It's got a swing to it but punches hard. Almost a heartbeat if you will. The solo was a direct result of playing the drums.

This track touches on letting toxic people go from your life. At what point do you stop investing in someone's negative energy? Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me. It is the idea of surrounding yourself with people that want you to be the best version of yourself.

Up next: "Who Died", which summons all of the band's talents. Beginning with bursts of rapid-fire guitar picking set against a zombie-like beat and chorus, the song has something of a swampy feel. "I won't follow you!" Mr. Lewis shouts defiantly. I wasn't sure where the song would progress from there, and almost thought it was concluded at the false stop barely two-and-a-half minutes in. But the song rallies and the band pulls out its full force, with what sounds like the addition of the synth to present a layered effect that amplifies the intensity. I think this could have been developed even further, but sometimes brevity is the most appropriate option for a song.

"Who Died" was written off the chorus and intro. Zeppelin kinda riff. It's all about feel and giving the riffs room to breathe. This track is about the concept of thinking for yourself and not being an easy victim of mental or physical abuse.

The reverberating echoes of organ-sounding keyboards greet as "New Monster" takes its place next. We get our footing pretty quickly with a kind of "We Will Rock You" bass motif, but the song gets stranger and stranger as the seconds tick off. As with the previous track, there is a sudden atmospheric shift accompanied by furious strumming and ending on the swirling guitar theme we started with.

"Here we are, same ol' thing, round and round, 'ever again...I wanna run, I wanna breathe, I wanna live." This is, for me, perhaps the most relatable song on the record, lyrically speaking. This one especially gave off strong Prong vibes with its strong vocal lead, robust drumming, strong bass play, and industrial guitar feel.

"New Monster" was written in isolation and was originally an acoustic song. Even though the tempo is upbeat it's a dark and murky riff. We wanted the end out of the breakdown to hit hard. I imagine it building like a wave in the ocean.

Another track focusing on mental health with the idea of perseverance and to keep fighting, "New Monster" is the idea of not being perfect is actually perfect. We are all just floating on a giant rock in space and going through this thing called life together.

Darkness Falls by Doors To No Where

At last, we reach the record's namesake "Darkness Falls" -- the gem of this eight-pronged crown of thorns. I've always thought it was a great name. Darkness Falls is also the title of a 2003 movie about a malevolent tooth fairy, though I see no compelling reason to connect the film with either the song or record. I may not be too far off the mark, as Marc Lewis explains:

This concept came to me during the pandemic. I was watching so many folks struggling. All walks of life were struggling. Struggle isn’t biased and can hit anyone. “Please, please shine for me” and “Please, please glow again” reflect on how badly I wanted things to be better. For things to be ok. How I wanted those I love to be happy, safe and loved.

As it stands, Doors To No Where does a superior job of fleshing out the notion of "Darkness Falls" than previous contenders in any medium. The song stirs up a smokey, mysterious Near-Eastern ambience. Four minutes in and it's confirmed: there is indeed a synthesizer at play on Darkness Falls but its hypnotic effect in this song is interrupted by a screaming riffstorm and a gut full of churning bass. This song would make a great companion to "What The Hell Have I" by Alice in Chains. It also pairs well with Portland band A//TAR, whose metaphysical music we've also debuted in these pages.

"Darkness Falls" is special for another reason: Bob Balch of Fu Manchu and Big Scenic Nowhere was a guest on the album closer. "Him and I worked together on the track," Marc reflects. "He is a pro's pro and added so much to the vibe of the song. His playing and tone are phenomenal.

The new album Darkness Falls by Doors To No Where releases to the public on Friday, May 21st via Desert Records (pre-order here). This is its world premiere c/o Doomed and Stoned.

Give ear...

Doors To No Where · DARKNESS FALLS

Some Buzz

Featuring Marc Lewis (Guitars/Vocals), Pete Testorff (Drums) and Marc Prefontaine (Bass). Doors To No Where have been making music since 2010. Their sound is heavily influenced by Santa Cruz and the local beauty it offers along with the rich history of music. Doors To No Where have been called a stoner rock band but also touch on elements of punk, doom, metal and even grunge.

Growing up on a skateboard and surfing has played a huge part on the influences of the sounds Doors To No Where like to include.

The band has toured in and been honored to share the stage with bands like, Mondo Generator, Fatso Jetson, Fu Manchu, The Melvins and many more.

Doors To No Where will be releasing 'Darkness Falls' (2021) via Desert Records on May 21st 2021. The fourth studio album features eight tracks and a special guest appearance from Bob Balch (Fu Manchu). Staying true to their roots, 'Darkness Falls' is a combination of desert rock and punk influences. The band tracked and recorded the album in the unusual quarantine times of Covid-19.

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[ton-e]

Helheim is a land of peace.

The layers of agonized wails and woeful imploring she prepared her ears for was lost in the breeze of the melancholic melody of nature. Naked humming voices flowed serenely amidst the gradient of indigo blue leaves, dry and wrinkly, singing the ballads of lost souls attached to skinny tree branches, rinsed of color at the roots, blending smoothly with the pale greenery surrounding the wide meadow that grew to be her most favored solace.

Flowers, prey to decaying, small in stature but mighty in resistance, veiled the piece of soil that parted the center of the dark Kingdom in two, catching vines in the heart core of the spot her beloved boy once clawed his way to freedom, from a grave that came too early for a boy too gentle, too youthful, too much of a man before his time.

Her ghost Prince, her youngest; Stolen and crowned the King of Death, with a rain of tears on his cheeks and a cloak of swords in his back.

'Crowned, ' she spits, imagining it rippling through the dead earth and fell right onto Borr's bald head. Time failed to sweeten her bitterness as she thought, yes, this is how their history beautified the terrible incident. Time didn't heal her pain, neither did it gentled the sharpness of her teeth.

They had deceived him, betrayed him, punished him, stole his life away, and called it a reward.

After that dreadful day, She spent more nights weeping to slumber, eyes buried in the cushions of Hel's frigid chambers, burning brighter, hotter, than the hard oak feeding red-orange flames in the fireplace of her bedroom.

The phantom ice caressing the silver of her skin was more comfort than suffering, painless mercy she sunk into little by little every day until the light of day became unfamiliar. The cold here shares that quality, she ponders, a soft touch of unburnt ice to keep you from perishing.

Its a lot like her son, she thinks.

Yet, Bestla doesn't feel its presence permanently. A long, stone shaded cloak fell upon her shoulders, showering her back in a misty warmth provided by the thick velvet of the garment. Her eyes observe a silhouette shadowing the pale sun, the single leak of blight light hanging above the smoke sky.

"I was hoping to find you here, " Estrid wears a smile radiant enough to pale all gold in the 9 realms. "Peaceful up here, is it not? Hel liked hiding here, as a boy. Said the breeze was nice."

Bestla, for a moment, allows her eye to inspect the other woman for the first time. Her shoulders are round and solid, strong as a soldier, complemented by the stunning danger of a shieldmaiden. Bestla tracks night-dark locks brushing over creamy skin, long and curly. She's as much warrior as she is woman, it's as if she only now observes.

Her arms are an impressive addition, boxy as much as lean, holding closely on her shield and sword. A sword that, doubtlessly, claimed a long string of lives. She's not as fearful as it would be wiser to be. Estrid has been nothing but pleasant, as much as one could be when encountering their circumstance, her presence never frightening her as much as it saddened her.

"For someone carrying such heavy armor, you move with great stealth, Lady Sigurdsson, " If the other woman peaked at the too feather-soft timber of her voice, she had enough cheek to act differently. " I suppose you'd want an explanation as to why I'm avoiding my son?"

" Forgive me, your Grace, but Lord Hellison was never included in the conversation, " Bestla thought she spotted a bloom of red dusting her cheeks as she grinned gently, taking a spot none to tight to the former Queen, but close enough to leave some space had the smaller woman want to fill it. "I thought you would, after..."

"...It's unwise to polish hard truths. They cut harder that way, " The Queen's words were dressed in both honesty and advice, chapters of her life unfolding beneath her eyes as if to pledge truth to the statement. Estrid studied each word with expert attention.

Bestla raises, arms guarding her middle, eyes cast over the sea of flowers beneath her shoes.

"I'm grateful, for the kindness you showed him. I remain in your debt, in fact, though it escapes me how I can repay you here. "

"We don't believe in paying kindness, in the North. Goodness isn't traded in gold, " a quiet chuckle is swept by the breeze slashing through the grand mountains. Estrid inhales deeply and opens her arms when she lets her body fall upon the grass. "If it was, don't you think more people would practice it?"

The southerner's lips lift in a one-sided smile of her own, private and discreet. Debtless favors certainly sounded sweet to the ear.

" Aesir aren't precisely renewed for our gentle hearts, so I suppose not. I still mourn the stress you must have endured, however. Children are far from being a jolly affair. And the tales we hear as children don't exactly portray Titans as loving parents."

A stratum of blank seriousness shaped Estrid's features, graveness resting heavily on sharp boned cheeks and warm brown eyes. " I fell in love a day after meeting him, " Bestla swallowed hard at the admission. " I knew him for less than a sundown, but I knew he was mine. I was dead, alone and helpless and afraid, and he was too much like me to be a fateless coincidence. Words aren't enough to express it. He was just...Meant to fall, and I to catch him. "

The leafs sang to fill the edged hush musking around them. Estrid pimped the other's empty breathing as anger, for she heaved a sigh long enough to match the twin lack of words on both their parts, and excused her nerve. " Apologies. I don't dare name myself a mother, nor do I starve for anyone's approval, least of all yours. I only wished to say you raised a good son. A son lucky to have a mother like you, for as long as he did."

"...You helped him," Bestla started, chest light and comfortable, not cutting blades piercing her skin as she expected. "Kept food in his mouth, put clothes on his back. You loved him truthfully and protected him fiercely. You're not any less his mother than I."

"...It must be a sour thin all the same, for someone so beloved to greet you as a stranger. For that, I can't help but feel sorry still."

" That's a sentiment we can share. He... Hel, my child, my youngest son. Born at the edge of two worlds that never loved him. They aren't my own, not my blood, not him neither Odin, my kind hearted prince, my little lion boy. And yet, I was not their mother for the simple reason they didnt come from me. Everyone told me so.

They weren't my own, yet I held them at my chest, kissed their skinned knees and elbows, wiped their tears, and chased sickness with handpicked herbs and wet rags because I trusted nobody to do so. No language is enough to describe the love a mother has for their children.

No tongue is enough to put my love in words."

"...Even for Balder?"

Bestla laughs, an odde of heartache and sorrow. " Even him. Love gives no choices, last of all to parents. I still remember the day of his birth. A terrible storm broke the skies that evening, set fire to five houses, left a month's worth of reparations behind. He struggled, I've been told. He kicked and wailed and fought all the way.

I haven't had the chance to even hold him in my arms and he was so eager to run from me. My eyes never saw something more perfect than his tiny ears, his adorable little hands, and feet, his honey hair. He looked so much like me I hardly believed it.

But I felt no different with his brothers. There was a sickness in my mouth, when they were babes and I was forced to be departed from them. I couldn't bear to see them in another's arms, a wet nurse, or a squire, when asked to trust anyone else with them, I was faithless.

When Hel was born, he couldn't be convinced to let me go. He was so quiet, I thought perhaps this world claimed him already. His mother drew her last breath on that bed and I was the one he clung to, the one he hooked his fingers into. One of the King's guards present, he tried to prey him away, do you want to know what I did? I unsheathed a dagger from my thigh, slashed his throat, and watched him die." The confession was a river she scalded into freely.

"Would I insult your intelligence by asking if you're familiar with Sandr?" Bestla asked once Estrid wordlessly raised on her feet. She felt enough security to push her body forward. " Titans held mighty battles there."

A smirk pinched the taller woman's lips. " We were rowdy children, I'll confess. But yes, I know the location. You rebuild beautifully, " dark eyes shaped the bronze scorpio pendant suspended in the middle of Bestla's long neck. " Your family picked a Scorpio as their sigil. They made a fine legacy."

" Oh, it was. The finest. Beautiful, skillful, and yet, terribly lonely. I had 10 siblings. 5 brothers and sisters, however, I confess I felt more like an accessory than a member of a clan. We were strangers to each other. Foreigners with the same name, with our only common factor being our house.

Our country was gorgeous but very poor, you see. We trusted nobody, and in return, our distrust was repaid with hostility. Eventually, when our skin touched bone and we ran out of livestock, we opened the gates to trade. Naturally, we were invaded, our lands stolen, our necks had shackles only we could see.

And I held the key for everyone.

I want you to picture the most powerful man in the world, asking me to marry him," a bitter laughs cracks in her throat, and the wind whips away the water from her eyes. " He had a crown on his head and 50 thousand banner men behind him, with more gold than he could ever need or deserve and 100,000 spikes for our heads alone. What else could I have said?"

Her legs shift, stepping closer to Estrid, eyes as flat as her tone. " What I did, I did because I had to. To defend my people. To defend my family. To defend my blood. Every sacrifice, every drop of blood I've spilled, I did it so the people I love could live the peace I never did."

She advances, every step that's forward to her is one back for Estrid, eyes concentrated intensely on one another with enough fire to make Fire Giants sweat.

"All the sins that I have done. Or had done at my orders? The truths my children don't know, the truths a narrow number of people lived to keep the secret. The kind vicious enough to make fine warriors as yourself lose sleep, if they came to know them.

Perhaps this is my justice. A punishment for survival in a world where living is no bed of roses. But I won't stop helping my children, heart beating or otherwise.

There's a storm coming, My Lady. And I have every intention of ensuring everyone walks dry."

[psalloacappella]

Sirens - CH 5

Title: Sirens Pairing: SasuSaku Chapter: Ao3 | FF Rating:  M

Additional Notes:  new cast alert, enter Ino!; spicy; sad; Sasuke kind of a SIMP; make some noise; some parts nsfw .

.

.

And so again, he finds himself on some surreal plane of existence where there’s another unfamiliar pretty girl in his kitchen, hailing from fuck knows where, tossed onto earth in a momentary absurdity — arriving on a magic carpet or hot air balloon. Often a silent observer to conversations weighty with importance, he has the talent of existing in a room and giving the impression he’s somehow hearing everything and nothing in the same moment.

Introductions dispensed. Coffee and food, he’s learned, always serve as a sufficient social lubricant and functions as the perfect excuse to give them time together to untangle a conversation that sounds like an argument they’ve been having for several years of their lives, the type of historical artifacts that define the best relationships; they’re familiar echoes of the bond of a brother long broken and a best friend that he’s sure has extended much more grace than he’s deserved.

Fingers linger on the handles of mugs, grasp them and set them down, pantomiming and gesturing and weaving stories about people he doesn’t know and passing tokens of lives lived in a separate dimension than his. It’s odd, how the histories of others intertwine and as people share pieces of themselves they fill in the empty questions to create bonds anew, the pasts and presents overlapping, echoing and transforming in layers and rings as carbon dating. The details that follow in the tracks of family lines and secrets.

If he listens, he’ll be able to glean the things this girl has such a difficult time telling him.

“You know it’s hard for your friends when you do this,” Ino chides, reaching forward to flick a lock of her pink hair. A cherished gesture, the type only people so close will tolerate. “Disappear and resurface hundreds of miles away, always moving, never checking in.”

“You should be used to it by now.” Sakura takes a sip of coffee to hide the slight waver in her voice. It gives Sasuke pause and he glances at her over his shoulder from his sentinel role at the stove.

The tint of her drink reminds him of a specific shade of paint, a desultory memory of his home — Saint Martin Sand.

“And every time we come together again, I tell you, stop punishing yourself for no reason. At least this time you’ve made some friends. Cute ones.” Ino watches him watch Sakura and their eyes meet — he breaks it with the slightest blush.

The glitter in her eyes is so knowing, so like Naruto’s, he wonders if he should have taken a long walk instead.

“So let’s just lay this on the table,” Ino continues, setting down her mug with a sharp sound. “You two are a thing, and judging by that ridiculous soap opera outside, you’ve been staying here with him?”

“We’re not together— ”

“Yes, yes, you don’t date, I know.” Ino waves a hand, sweeping away her fruitless protestations. Lifting her chin, she says to Sasuke, “I didn’t mean to join in, it’s just, I finally find her and she’s getting chased by some guy, you can see how I could’ve had the wrong idea.”

“I understand,” Sasuke responds, not turning around. “You two are very close.”

“A man of many words.” Ino refocuses on Sakura, who’s running her fingernail on the lip of the mug, staring into coffee the shade of tropical sand. “As long as he’s kind to you, I suppose I can’t show up and start analyzing it.”

“But you will,” Sakura says, grinning.

“Of course I have a million questions; you’re terrible at keeping in touch. For starters, why is your ankle busted?”

With a bleak groan, Sakura lets her face fall into her hands, fingers sinking into her hair. Ino laughs in a weary way, the love of years so lush and apparent throughout, and their feet tap one another under the table. Both pass the heel of a hand underneath their eyes, a quick swipe, gestures in a mirror.

“Are you going to come sit with us or what?” Ino snarks, fearless in her insistence. A similar frankness that Sakura has in her best moments which take peeled layers to surface. Sasuke wonders just where and when their paths forked, and how those laden with cracks in the soul are lucky enough to find supports like these. Adjusting breakfast to a simmer, he brings his own coffee to take up a seat on an adjacent table side, between them.

“So — how did you two meet?” she asks, tapping the table with each word. Eyes hungry for details, she sways left and right, waiting for one of them to indulge her.

“Ah—”

“Well—”

“He’s a fan of my radio show,” Sakura finally articulates. “He and Naruto — his friend, own a bar and they called in, and honestly I was so curious so I ended up coming in a few days later. And the rest is history.”

Ino smiles. “So how long is that history, two, three weeks?”

Sasuke busies himself with copious coffee drinking, aware he’ll run out before being able to leave the table.

“That’s so cute, it’s nauseating,” Ino adds, grinning at Sasuke. Amused by his embarrassment and baffled that a guy so handsome is sitting here being twisted into knots by a little gossip and interest. She must drive him crazy.

As she watches both of them glance away, askance, eyes on anything but one another, knowing Sakura as well as she does means this dynamic and situation for her is a new foray, an unusual wrinkle and snag in her usual routine of cut and run.

She likes him too. And this, out of all of it, is the most unusual development for her friend that routinely rips up her roots or rarely stays long enough to grow them; the girl that’s been afraid to breathe the same air for one too many heartbeats in fear of making mistakes, taking what she deserves.

And the longer Ino sees Sasuke’s handsome face up close — messy dark hair, charcoal, sharp eyes, the patrician slope of his nose — there’s thoughts sifting in that slippery layer of the unconscious, shifting as sand in soft winds. A sense she’s missing a crucial detail in a larger game.

“You definitely had a good first night with this one. I know, I can tell.” Refusing pretense, Ino drops this on the table and sips with a satisfied smile.

“Pig, please!” Sakura sounds annoyed, but it still marries a soft, scolding tone to what must be a childhood, agreed-upon name.

Scrunching up her face, Ino taps her forehead twice. Children making faces on glass windows or at one another on a playground, a reference to simpler times. They grew up together bonded by dirty knees and whispered secrets. Not unlike the way Sasuke and his brother were so long ago, before they were groomed, primed for their inescapable roles: A reprieve from destiny is not the pardon.

All three startle at the sound of jangling keys; Sasuke, with his back to the door, turns in his seat and throws a careless arm over the back of the chair. Glancing back to Sakura, they exchange a small ghost of a smile, a hidden and intimate reference to experiences only privy to them.

“‘Kay, Sasuke, I know you told me not to just walk into your apartment, ‘specially now that you’ve had this super cute girl around, but this is definitely, totally—”

When he sees Ino at the end of the table, Sasuke gracing him with the woebegone, tired expression that he always receives when intruding, and Sakura smiling at his arrival, he stops in his tracks over the threshold.

Naruto’s mouth falls open with impunity. Sakura waves at him.

“ — important,” Naruto finishes, closing the door with his foot behind him. Shoulders sagging, he tosses his keys on the counter and whines. “Unreal, man. You found another one. An impossibly attractive girl and now they’re both in your damn kitchen!”

Ino points at him, palm facing up, in a lazy gesture. “Who’s this dork?”

“That’s his best friend,” Sakura says, nodding at Sasuke.

“Seriously? This guy?”

“Naruto,” Sasuke begins, running a hand through his messy hair, “the fuck did I tell you about walking in like this? Just knock. Or as you remind me, we have phones.”

“Well maybe you should start putting up a sign or something, or a sock on the door or some shit, because I can’t keep up with your life.” Without invitation, Naruto helps himself to coffee and continues rambling while lifting the lid to inspect the simmering food. “Or better yet you could let me know when you’re just befriending beautiful women and where exactly you find them, because you have zero interest in the ones at the bar.”

“Listen, uh, what’s your name? Naruto, you said? Sasuke and I haven’t had the pleasure of—” Ino breaks off, hissing ow! under her breath from a well-placed kick. “It’s not like that. I’m Sakura’s friend — I’m like the you to him,” she says, pointing to each of them respectively to illustrate her point. “So relax, because I’m assuming you’re joining us.”

Sakura starts laughing while Naruto drops the lid back onto the pan and stares, mouth in a perfect, round “O.”

Smiling wide, Ino preens in the manner of an exotic species so very cognizant of its worth.

“So, go back to the part where I’m impossibly attractive.”

.

.

.

Sasuke’s second breakfast consisting of people other than Naruto and himself sails by in the way time well-spent feels warm and sublime. The buoyancy of laughter and a tentative kindling, the way it proceeds through a fated narrative as each piece settles into its destined groove. Naruto, unstoppable from the glow of caffeine, breakfast he didn’t make, and an attractive blonde, narrates the dramatic and fated meeting of his best friend and this radio girl of the night in sordid detail, to Ino’s delight. Sakura interjects to correct notions along the way, and Sasuke abandons fantasies of pitching him off the balcony or dropping him down the fire escape, instead settling for heavy sighs and staring at her while she speaks, as she augments the conversation with slender hands and pointed fingers.

“So then last night he rushed off to save her from the police station. I mean, I was worried too obviously. And . . . I don’t know what all happened after that. You never called.”

Both of them with widened eyes, a clear giveaway as any of all the details that sound ludicrous in the light of day. This time, it’s Sasuke who speaks.

“All I did was pick her up. She was helping someone out and the police needed to speak with her to confirm things.” Taking a quiet sip of coffee, he adds, “She didn’t need saving.”

Sakura’s eyes soften, and she drops her eyes to the remnants of her breakfast.

Ino sighs, setting her fork on her empty plate with a clink. “Knowing her, she beat ‘em up herself.”

“Come on, Ino, why don’t you just tell him all of my embarrassing stories?” Sakura pouts, a joke laced with the tiniest warning, a rough string tightening. “More importantly, I need your help with something.”

“Name it,” Ino says. “I have all the time in the world! I’m staying at a hotel, trying to get a real feel for the city. Never been here, you know, and I’d like to stay a while before—” She breaks off, glancing at Sasuke, and changes tack. “I haven’t seen you in a long time, that’s all.”

“Work is having an event, and I think it’s fancy, very high-class, you know. Those things make me so uncomfortable.”

“I always tell you, everyone’s faking it at those events. You’re sweet enough to muddle your way through one night.” Ino looks Sasuke directly in the eyes; he has the distinct feeling she’s untangling him, and this, and that she has the tenacity to see it through.

“These are rich people, Ino. I’m a girl from the wrong side of the tracks, and I don’t belong there.”

The comment piques Naruto’s interest momentarily and he tilts his head; Sasuke watches her closely.

“Don’t start that,” Ino warns, again waving away her concerns easily.

“Apparently it’s not the radio subsidiary itself, but the parent company. The night I was working I think the man I spoke with was the owner, the CEO."

Eyes alight, Ino reaches for her bag slung over the back of the chair and pulls out a thin, light laptop. Pushing aside her empty dishes, she boots it up in half a second and waits for details, eager fingers poised over the keys. “Tell me details.”

“Tall, pale eyes. A stoic sort of guy. Brunette, very long hair. Like yours,” Sakura says to her, “and just as cared for.”

“So very pretty, your usual type, heh,” Ino teases. Her fingers fly over the keys. “I might have an idea . . .”

“Ino has a well-known family,” Sakura explains to Sasuke. Touches his arm in a soft gesture to hold his attention, not that he’s ever able to be distracted away from her. “The Yamanakas?”

Waving blithely, Ino rejects the notion. “We aren’t that regal, please. We’re in a totally different universe than, say, the Uzumaki’s.”

A full ten seconds passes before what she says registers on Naruto’s face. The typing continues at a lively pace. Sakura’s looking at him with a strange expression, an impassiveness that seems to be a projection, a mask, hiding twisting questions beneath. Naruto looks at Sasuke and opens his mouth —

— and all that comes is an ow! and tears forming at the corners of his eyes.

“Here we go,” Ino says, pulling back the attention of the group. Turning the laptop around for them to see, she points. “Neji Hyuuga, one of the youngest media moguls and owner of blah blah enterprises, took over when his dad passed away, the usual way it goes in families like these.”

The pale eyes remind her of the girl from the police station, and she looks to Sasuke as if for confirmation. Confirms it to her with an imperceptible nod.

“I assume there’s a press release,” Sakura says, intrigued.

“Of course. They probably control whoever writes about them anyway. Talk about a conflict of interest.” A relentless cadence of tapping keys, and her ocean eyes are just visible over the lid of the laptop. “‘Annual event, mighty and generous’, blah blah, ‘held at the historic but well-loved — wow, look at this place. It’s beautiful in that old money sort of way.

Chair legs scrape against the floor as they gather in a semicircle to read along, emitting whistles and comments here and there as they take in the grandiose venue and the Hyuuga family’s credentials. Sasuke, though, is quiet. Sakura’s eyes are wide, dazzled and intimidated by the prospect of all of it.

“Oh god, I can’t go to something like this,” she groans. “I’m going to look so stupid and out of place.”

“Sakura!” Ino pushes her chair back, startling the other two as they back out of her way. Taking her shoulders, she shakes her a little. “You have to go to an event like this. People bend over backwards maintaining relationships with this family and donate money just to potentially go to this! I know why you need me — to dress you, of course! This is supposed to happen; I know it.”

Sasuke takes Ino’s empty seat, eyes darting over the screen.

“Ino, you’re such a romantic. What am I even going to talk about with these people?”

“It doesn’t matter. These are basically playgrounds for the rich and famous. If you want to give your career a leg up, you have to do this.”

“My career?” Sakura snorts, shoulders sagging. Closing in on herself, an instinctual fear. “Ino, I failed out of pre-med and change leases as often as clothes. Now I do a radio show in the dead of night speaking with lonely people.”

“All the more reason to get out there and find people who can help you. Maybe it’s time to stop leaving with the wind and start trusting yourself. Besides,” she says, hands on her hips, daring her to disagree, “isn’t it time you let yourself have some fun?”

Sakura doesn’t answer, lips slightly parted and seeking a rebuke she doesn’t have. Whirling around, Ino demands of her new friends, “Back me up here!”

“Ah well, Sakura,” Naruto says, sheepish and red, “I’m with Ino, here on this one. And this is totally my own opinion because you’re really cool, and we’re friends now, I think. All these families know each other. It’s a ‘who’s who’ of important people in a lot of industries. And,” here he grins, eyes bright, “you can do and find whatever you want at an event like this.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Sakura asks.

“It means,” Ino says, cutting across his response, “that you will not be taking a walk of shame in a princess dress on a dingy train or in the back of a cab. You can stay in my hotel room downtown — it’s not far from the venue. You will arrive and leave from this event in style. If you come home, of course.” She winks with gusto.

“I’m borrowing this,” Sasuke says abruptly, picking up the laptop and taking his phone out of his pocket with his other hand. Ino shrugs, go for it. Taking up a seat in his own living room, he connects with someone on the phone and speaks to them in a tone relatively terse, his rich voice commanding as opposed to conciliatory.

The sound of his voice tips a smile onto Sakura’s face. Ino glances between the two and the understanding is a jolt of electricity, a hundred tiny neurons firing to complete the picture in the spark of a moment.

“You asked him already.”

“I’ve vetted him,” Sakura teases, and now it’s impossible to hide. The way the thought of him snatches the air out of her throat, the heavy swallow to recoup; green eyes consuming and caught in a mimeo of the past and Ino knows that it’s not him who has her, but he who has stumbled and tripped into her orbit. And Ino’s only ever seen her look at one other man this way; the nascent and feverish meeting of chance, the genesis of an endless chain reaction, atoms in a runaway chemical tryst. Ino had been present for it but somehow failed to notice everything that was wrong. All of it colliding in this moment as she sees the shadow of its consequence in her gaze.

“Thank you,” Sasuke says. With the slightest incline of his head, he returns the closed laptop to Ino and pockets his phone. Unable to tear her gaze away now, Ino struggles to form words as his fingers take Sakura’s elbow and he murmurs to her in an undertone. A talent of omitting others from his space if he chooses, even as they scrabble on the outside, a manipulation, or closer to a bewitchment, of reality.

Sakura looks down at her wrapped ankle, giving it a flex and wiggle. Ino knows he’s already doomed by the damned, and all she can do is give her futile warning and watch it play. Sasuke speaks again, but the chaotic buzzing in her ears drowns it all out.

Sakura folds her arms, resolute. “That’s so expensive, Sasuke. I’ve . . . never been anywhere that nice.”

And he tucks pink strands behind her ear in the crackling and kindling of the atmosphere difficult to breathe in.

“And a suite? What could we possibly do with all that space?”

But there’s a smile seeping into the corner of her lips, and his suggestive silence leaves myriad answers.

“You have a balcony.” Ino raises her voice, pulling them back to reality. “Show me it?”

Sasuke shrugs in genuine indifference; Sakura narrows her eyes. “You just want to interrogate him. Please don’t scare him away — I’ll do it soon enough.”

Ino brushes past them and throws aside the sliding glass door, styled French, reflecting that this isn’t the type of man many likely manage to forcibly do much of anything. It may be curiosity or out of deference to the woman he’s entangled with, but he follows without complaint.

The door is barely closed before she bursts.

“Do you even know her, Sasuke?”

Furrows his eyebrows as if she’s a mildly interesting painting, but doesn’t respond to her immediately. Dark eyes glimmer with a suspicion that makes her shiver a little as they're turned on her, unflinching, a shadow in them she wasn’t expecting — likely the very thing that’s brought Sakura to it, a frenzied moth to light. Or perhaps it’s the other way around, the alluring visions in her eyes drowning him in an ocean similar to the stories, the schizophrenic and duplicitous nature of open family secrets.

“Do you even know who I am?”

“Please,” she snorts, surveying him. “Messy dark hair, that attitude of yours. Handsome nose. Those eyes.” At this, her gaze flits away to the horizon. “You’re an Uchiha.”

Though he doesn’t confirm, the way his gaze stays steady, level, and intense is enough.

“Granted,” she continues, “there are a lot of you, and you all have quite the strong genes, looking so much alike. You’re one of the most famous families in the country. And I think she has an idea, but it’s different when you don’t grow up hearing the stories; when you’re not in the same circles. She’s not like you.”

“If you have something to ask,” he says, “I’d rather we not dance around it.” The bite, the press of assertion.

Ino knows it’s everything Sakura has a taste for, a history of — a craving that’s always worth tearing apart at the tendons and roots.

“If I thought you’d be straightforward about it, I’d ask. I think you have no idea of the type of person you’re obsessed with.”

“I’m not—”

“Don’t bother with denying it. You think I haven’t seen this before? Look . . . we do this all the time, run in circles. After she left town, and her parents died, I tried to keep up with her. She’s my best friend. She’s not ever out to ruin anyone but that’s what she usually does. Guys, just, they get wrapped up in her and then when it’s too serious for her, she leaves. She thinks she’s hard to love, like she’s cursed or blessed or something that ends up more like a sickness than something functional.”

The accuracy and plain verity of her words feels like a sharp jab to the chest.

“And I don’t know much about you as a person, but I do know what I’ve read and what I’ve heard.”

“You’re right,” Sasuke says. “You don’t know anything about me. And I don’t give time to gossip and rumors.”

“You don’t get it. She didn’t even have my number in her new phone, and she never keeps any. You know why? She expects people in her life to disappear, so she just leaves them first.”

Sasuke remembers the call to the bar, the number that would have been fresh in her mind or the one on file with the city, as opposed to his personal phone.

“She can’t stay away from certain types of people. Certain men. Everyone has a weakness, right? And that’s hers. The more I’m talking to you, seeing you around each other, I have the feeling your problem is the same.”

He’s certainly not in the mood for another woman too sharp for her own good. Avoiding her assessment, he deflects. “How did you even find her, then?”

“Trade secrets,” she says in a sardonic tone. “My father’s a, what do you call it, ‘analyst’ for the government.” She adds air quotes to make her point clear. “Sure that’s what he does. I can tell by the types of friends we had, all families who understood the culture. You only have gatherings like we did when your family’s, A, in the government or B, organized crime.” Tilting her head, she smirks. “You’d know.”

“So, family resources?”

“But really,” she laughs, “I just used the internet. It’s not so hard to do if you know enough about someone. We are best friends, after all.”

Like Sakura, it can be difficult to tell how close she is to sarcasm. A similar brand of mordancy. He takes Ino at her word with a nod.

“She’s smart. She probably has an idea of who you might be, maybe she’s trying not to know. And she’s never been one for gossip or celebrity news — she reads a lot, but always nerdy subjects. Well, that’s why she was going to be a doctor, I suppose.”

A silence. When he deigns to speak, Ino isn’t able to hide her surprise.

“She’s told me a bit about herself, but not much. I don’t think her and I are people who open up easily.”

“She used to be different,” Ino says wistfully. “But there are things in this life that are difficult to shake off; they hurt you so deeply you don’t heal. Or at least, you don’t heal correctly.”

“I’m guessing you won’t tell me what those things were?”

When she raises her sapphire eyes to his, she’s torn between spilling it all and knowing that a betrayal so significant would ruin a relationship with the only person she can still trust. Still, she’s terrified thinking about the prospects of either outcome with this man, knowing that he is madly, stupidly in love with a harbinger of chaos, and most don’t make it out of that web in one piece. Perhaps no one does, with her.

“That’s not my place,” she finally says. “Go with her and have fun. You strike me as someone who could use some, too. But I mean this in the kindest possible way — one day she’ll run, and she will leave. She can’t help herself. She . . . can’t stay away from the mess.”

Sasuke continues watching her in mild amusement. His smirk causes a nervous flutter in her stomach; Ino puzzles over his underreaction to her words.

Opening the door and gesturing her back inside, signaling the end of their conversation, he simply says, “I know.”

They rejoin the other two:  Sakura with her ankle propped up on a cushion and Naruto next to her babbling about what sounds like his childhood, tales of adventures and boring classes in private institutions, uniforms and study prep and a flush of love for parents long gone. Sasuke suspects now that the place and life she comes from is a world he’s not familiar with; when she nods and makes careful comments here and there, trying to carefully step around the gaps in her knowledge, that emotion swells again. That urge to drape her in finery and act as the constant indulgence she can use over and over, to absolutely and unequivocally hand her the keys to a kingdom. A compulsion to fulfill a need unspoken.

“Hey you, Naruto.” His babbling screeches to a halt, and he automatically catches the phone Ino tosses to him with a smile. “Let me get your number.”

The way his expression flips in an instant, confusion to an incandescent brightness, causes another fluttering. “Sure!”

Ino exchanges with each of them, and she notices as she wanders around their contacts in her surreptitious way that neither of them have Sakura’s last name in their phone. Filing that detail away for herself, her thumb hovers over the screen as she finishes her entry in Naruto’s phone and returns it.

When she looks at his contact card and sees the name Uzumaki, she taps to edit and adds a sunshine, grinning.

“By the way, if you’re planning to stay for a long time and don’t want to be in a hotel for all of that, I mean, I live across the hall. Just saying. That way you’re close to Sakura and people you know in a new city!”

Hand on her hip, Ino tries to keep her ego tamped down, if even just a little. “You’re so transparent.”

Horrified, he holds up his hands with palms out, shaking his head. “No, no, I have a guest bedroom, no one stays in it, really. I’m not trying anything funny.” Indicating Sakura, he laughs. “She’s punched two people in a month, and I’m one of them. If you’re her friend, I know what I’m up against.”

.

.

.

Growing up Sasuke was in his fair share of fights and scraps on the playground, and then older, in bars and with drunk friends — after his mother dies he will participate in and be the progenitor of so many more. Her scolding reverberates in his ear about all the reasons he shouldn’t mar his handsome, regal face, and he hears his father in these same memories dismissing her concerns, sneering that it’s good he toughens up in any way he can.

If his mother was still alive she wouldn’t know what to say to this behavior, these mistakes he’s making: Writhing beneath the burning touch of a tiny nymph with pink hair, splayed beneath her as if blown apart and pinned up by the limbs, lepidoptera, as she straddles him in a hitched-up navy skirt with the heels of her sandals etching divots into his skin that will soften and fade to beautiful bruises.

Two fingers in his mouth and her other hand working in a heated, rhythmic pace on his cock, he’s sure there would be a distinct lack of approval of being roughhoused by this girl with no name who seems to have the desire to leave him a shaking, gasping excuse for his family name.

He’s sure he would agree to let her kill him if she wanted; there’s almost nothing at this point that’s beyond the realm of reasonable requests. Especially with her pinning him without mercy, soaked and dripping between her thighs, a red and mottled flush surfacing through the skin of her chest and collarbones as she presses him into small submissions, the ways that men with faces like his don’t often experience.

(Returning from shopping with a large bag swinging from her hand, eyes bright despite her little limp. Volunteering information before he’s even apt to ask:  She loves it, and no he can’t see it yet, and she has work in a while but not quite yet. Ino’s out exploring the city accompanied by Naruto.)

And it’s what she doesn’t say but he hears in her voice, in the come-hithers and low tones and the space between them always feeling like an ache, an endless expanse that yearns for nothing but to be restitched and torn over again in repetitious revolutions, the drowning and resuscitation an addiction in itself. Coming together to pull apart and wound with another million fibers each time in a dazed and deadly isochronism.

Small and light like feathers and lips like morphine:  With her legs around his hips and fingers in his dark hair yanking him to expose the apple of his neck, she hisses

I want to hear you

Down the hallway and he does as she bids, gritting his teeth while her lips tour his neck and linger in his ears

I want your noise

And he tries to take her with him but she places her fingers on his chest and bounces him into the soft bedspread, straddling him, clawing at his shirt and maneuvering it over his head to toss it aside. Bites her lip as she raises her chin to gaze down on him, jade eyes and parted lips and rolling her hips in an agonizing move that tears a moan from his throat —

Good boy she says, good boy

And when she says it his pulse beats in a stilted cadence and his hips press up against her, desperate, unable to touch enough of her like this and how did he fucking end up here, with her still clothed and him barely so while coaxing the full beautiful, colorful continuum of human sounds from his throat, sounds he’s stymied to know or possess and why when she calls him this his breath hitches, a choke, a reaction he’s unable to hide, not the least when her slim fingers reach for him, the scrape of her nails on his belt

Hips jerking and shuddering again as she takes him into her hand

It’s unfair how attractive you are, Sasuke

Like before he reaches for her, the calluses of his fingers dragging across her canvas of skin on fire and

she slaps them away, clicking her tongue in admonishment, he doesn’t learn

I meant what I said; that’s no way to get me to help you

Swallows down the pathetic word that sits as a lump in his throat, the one she’s aiming for and he doesn’t know how she knows it’s there but she’ll tear it from him no matter how many minutes a breakdown takes, and great fucking god he’s about to give it to her under duress of those soft silk fingers, the same ones that hold coffee mugs and command his attention and tell stories but now they feel like they’re where they belong, pumping him with the practiced and smooth movements of one who wields control so precise

Fuck, Sa-Sakura, fuck

Oh sweetheart, that’s not what quite I’m looking for

The first time a finger finds its way past his lips and into his mouth, open and panting and wanting already, the jolt and shudder and full roiling of his lean, fit body forces a breathy gasp from her own; the dangerous rock of her own hips she indulges in leaves her eyelashes fluttering shut in glimmering repose.

The tang, it bursts on his tongue

Unable to process the taste — salt, sweat, musk, the liminal zest between his and hers impossible to sift between

Then another long, slim finger in his mouth and here she persists again, ruthless and divine in and inhuman and the unceasing rhythm as she works him stays just a single syncopated note from release, as if she knows the precise rhythm and flow in which they could collide

Please

I want to hear you, Sasuke

Incoherent, torn him from him as skin from fruit, the feathering of plumage

Please — !

That laugh, spreading and coating as viscid honey, dense and lush and soaking him down

You’re so good, you know. I know men like you hate this

— the buckles of her heeled sandals patterning friction on the skin of thighs and the repetitive sticky scrapes of well-worn athletic tape as she holds him, cages him—

but you just look so good like this, I love you like this

So precious, she reflects for a moment, taking him in, wasted and dashed and black pupils blown as his eyes lose focus for a moment. Removes her fingers from his mouth with a wet hollowing sound that brings with it a guttural groan, throaty and incoherent

And the absolutely desperate pitch at the close

undoes her and she yanks him up by the hair, scrabbling at the bare skin of his shoulders with her fingernails and kisses him, when he lifts her so easily and they fumble with flimsy and frustrating fabrics until she settles on him again with a moan, filled to the brim and lost in brilliance

stuttering out his name in his ear in ways that make her forget she doesn’t plan for forevers.

.

.

.

“Dude.”

Naruto snaps his fingers in front of Sasuke’s twice, thrice. A flicker of recognition and reality surfaces and he blinks, swatting away his friend’s hand.

“Don’t.”

“Oh I’m sorry, you’ve just been spaced the fuck out for ten minutes.”

“I doubt that,” Sasuke says tartly, plucking a piece of paper from the office desk and pretending to consider it. Careful ignorance seems preferable to enduring the endless taunting and ribbing from Naruto, and lately that’s been nothing less than a guarantee.

“Okay, a minute or so, but you look blown out. Wasted. I can’t put my finger on it. Do you feel sick?”

“Shut up, will you? I’m—”

“Sad?”

“Working,” he finishes firmly.

“Nah, yer not.”

Naruto folds his arms and squints at Sasuke, then takes a meandering lap around the back office, hemming and hawing.

Though he’s not concentrating on any numbers in front of him, he loses focus again, flatlines, lost in a dream. Contented.

Naruto punches his fist into his hand opposite, shaking his head with a laugh. “I’m an idiot.”

“Now you’ve got it.”

“She laid you out, didn’t she? Sent you on a ride. What obscenely tight part of you did she get into?”

Sasuke leans back in the office chair, folding his arms. Avoiding his eyes and the flickering heat in his face that threatens to give him away, like he’s a little boy. “Fuck off.”

“I’m definitely going to ask her what she did to you. You’re like, bright. Glowing? I’ve heard that word. It’s coming off you in, like, waves.”

“If you ever say that word around me again,” Sasuke says, snatching up a stapler, “They won’t find your body.”

Raising it, Sasuke pretends to throw it — Naruto flinches. Relaxes.

Sasuke whips it at him anyway.

“Ow! Temper, tsk tsk,” Naruto teases, rubbing his arm where it hit.

Shikamaru strolls in with his hand in his pockets, sighing. “Ah, Sasuke, there’s someone asking about you at the bar. He’s been hanging around for a while and I don’t think he’s leaving. I figured if he knew you, he’d contact you directly, but—”

“Hey, hey Shikamaru,” Naruto interrupts. “Look at him. He’s too busy being lost in—”

“Who is he?” Sasuke asks. “What does he look like?”

“Eh, honestly, he looks a lot like you. Older, maybe? Same eyes, spiky hair.”

A lurching, a twisting in the gut. The expression on his face foreboding enough that both of them move swiftly out of his path as he heads for the front, adrenaline pouring into his limbs, readying for a brawl.

When he arrives, however, nothing’s left but the wrinkled napkin, weathered and worn from dallying fingers and the perspiring empty glass, drunk to its dregs.

For a moment Sasuke gazes across the bar — a slower night with lingering groups in booths and a few scattered and two-top tables. No one remains that looks like him, not even close.

After all, he can always feel them in a crowd. As if bonded by invisible strings, always forced into the productions and whims of the family, it being a force so much darker and greater than himself. The portraits in the old house halls with a multitude of photographs in varying time periods and shades, an illustration of consolidated privilege and sovereignty. Far from the old ways things used to be done but nevertheless woven into the fabric of societal institutions in a manner so deft and desecrating.

The things his brother had always hated, railing against it in quiet dissent.

And in the end he had made his point, violent and vehement in a final way.

It rises, a pain in his chest and an unbidden, murky memory of the way his father slammed his hands on the table, again and again in an unceasing rhythm and his finger so close to his brother’s face he was sure it wouldn’t make it through the argument. As the years aged them all, he had begun to reject the authoritarian notion and the name. Perhaps it had broken him more than Sasuke had been able to understand.

When he remembers it again and he’s unable to breathe, he hates how he grasps the counter and gropes for the nearest bottle, and he would lunge for paint thinner if it made it all stop — the echoes of potent rage rising to a crushing din

You don’t bring people like that around — !

Never again — !

You

don’t bring

her here — !

[tsunnychan]

xii. chasing daybreak: making up

As if you understand what’s going on, and you’re making up for

ao3

-

Sylvain is a little over two years old when he meets a couple of babies.

At first, he was excited to go to Fhirdiad. Excited to leave the chilly northern border.

Maybe a little sad because his brother wouldn’t be coming with them. But maybe slightly relieved because he wouldn’t have to worry about covering his arms with long sleeves anymore.

 As soon as the Gautier carriage comes to a stop, he bursts out and runs into the sunshine, letting the warmth seep into his skin and feeling the gentle breeze through his hair. He spins around three times and trips on his own feet for the fourth. He tumbles to the ground, knees scraping against the pavement, but he bounces right back up, far too energized to let a few cuts keep him down.

He spots Glenn a few feet away, his jet-black hair tied back into a neat ponytail, his slate gray eyes crinkling at his antics. Sylvain speeds over there before his mother can rein him in. He skids to a stop in front of him and gets a ruffling of his hair in return. His chest feels full and he beams up at the older boy.

Different from Miklan.

He’s about to ask why Glenn is here too when more carriages arrive and King Lambert steps out to greet them, a tiny blue bundle wrapped in his arms. Glenn’s father follows close behind, a similarly sized teal bundle in his arms as well.

 Sylvain’s racing heart stills for just a moment.

 He hears more hooves on stone approach and he turns to the just-arriving party, their banners flying with a crest he doesn’t recognize. Several footsteps draw nearer, and Sylvain straightens before bowing low, just as Glenn does.

He gets another gentle hand on his head and he rises from the bow, his chest warming again. He looks up, now staring into two pairs of wide eyes, clear blue and deep amber. Glenn’s hand settles on his shoulder and nods toward the teal blanket. “Sylvain, meet my little brother, Felix.”

He inhales deeply, watching the baby’s face crinkle in the sunlight. He slowly reaches out and pokes his cheek. Felix’s face scrunches into a light scowl before turning his head toward his finger. Glenn snorts when Sylvain quickly withdraws his hand. “He hasn’t even been alive that long and he’s already a grouch.”

Rodrigue sighs, but a smile grows on his face regardless. “Glenn. Be nice to your brother.”

Those amber eyes open again, and he definitely looks annoyed. Sylvain smiles as Glenn unabashedly squeezes his brother’s cheeks.

He turns to the other blue bundle when King Lambert’s voice, low and affectionate, rumbles from above. “Sylvain, meet my son, Dimitri.”

He holds the small wiggling baby out toward him, and Sylvain feels a deep tugging in his chest. There are wisps of blond hair on his head, his blue eyes as clear as the sky, cherub face as round as ever. He stares at him in wonder, almost too afraid to touch him. He hears the King chuckle and he gets another pat on the head as Dimitri is brought back to his father’s chest. “Be a good friend to him, would you Sylvain?”

He gulps and nods vigorously. No way he would disappoint the King.

Then, another pair of blond heads approach, a mint bundle cradled in their arms.

 Sylvain feels time slow.

 Glenn shifts next to him, but his eyes are locked onto the squirming blankets, a tuft of blonde hair peeking out. His ears are buzzing, but he just barely hears Rodrigue address the newcomers. “Count Galatea, nice to see you again.”

“Likewise, Duke Fraldarius.”

 Galatea.

 “And this little one is Ingrid? Full of energy I see.”

A deep chuckle. “Indeed. I’m not surprised, considering how much she eats. Her mother is exhausted. Felix is growing quite well too, isn’t he?”

“He is. Already picking up his older brother’s disposition. Glenn?”

The hand on his shoulder squeezes once more before it falls away and Sylvain watches Glenn step forward, bowing slightly. “Count Galatea.”

 He feels oddly out of place as the older man turns his attention to the older Fraldarius. His eyes briefly meet Sylvain’s before refocusing on the boy before him. “Glenn. Nice to see you doing well.”

“Likewise, sir.”

 Sylvain’s blood pulses beneath his skin, nothing like when he first stepped off the carriage. His chest feels tight and he doesn’t think he’s breathing quite right.

 “Would you like to hold her?”

He snaps back to attention as Glenn holds out his arms, accepting the mint bundle and bringing it closer to his chest. The baby’s eyes open and it sends a pang through him that he ends up taking a step back.

Glenn readjusts his hold on her, and she coos, a bubbly little gurgle. Glenn smiles.

 Then, those wide eyes find his. A glittering green that sends his head spinning.

 She reaches out for him.

-

Sylvain is eight years old when the rest of his memories slam into him.

 He’s in Galatea territory, watching his friends play in the sun, their wooden swords clunking together with each drill Glenn leads them through. His arms are littered with scars and fresh bruises before he made it down here. His long sleeves were fine as he left Gautier, the summer still cool enough to tolerate additional layers.

But even just a little further south, the heat started to bake into his covered skin and his vision goes a little blurry. So, he took shelter under the shade of the large swaying oak tree, leaning heavily against its old bark.

He’d just been pulling at the collar of his shirt, fanning his face in an attempt to generate more air when the smell of roses hit him.

Then, citrus and orange blossoms.

 Then, several noises start flooding his ears at once.

 The deafening blow of victory horns.

Rapid footsteps heading in his direction.

The clang of armor and gentle whispers.

Soft cooing and exasperated laughs.

A mechanical grinding of coffee beans and hissing steam.

Echoing shoes on vinyl flooring.

Laughing children and a stuttering murmur.

The quiet snipping of garden shears.

Running water and sweet nothings on his skin.

Slamming doors and bated breaths, his blood pounding in his ears.

More gentle whispers, more exasperated laughs.

More shaky breaths.

 A declaration of love.

 Sylvain, I love you—

 His eyes fly open with a strangled gasp, but he squeezes them tightly immediately, the sharp summer rays blinding him as he clutches his throbbing head. He hears a cacophony of voices call out to him, but it’s distant and his world is spinning, and his chest is aching—

 He passes out under the sweltering sun.

  The next time he opens his eyes, he’s laying down in a dark room, cool towel on his forehead, small fingers tangled with his.

He turns his head and spots a head of blonde hair resting next to him, her back rising and falling with slow, even breaths.

 His heart calms and he closes his eyes once more.

-

Sylvain is fifteen when his heart breaks with a kind of pain that isn’t his own.

 News travels slow to the North. They’re always guarding the border.

They’re always under attack.

 The letter arrives several days late.

Or maybe it doesn’t. Maybe they’ve been too busy with Miklan being disinherited. Sylvain’s got a crop of new bruises on his back and arms to prove it.

 He opens the discarded letter on his father’s desk, and he balks.

 The King and Queen have fallen.

The entire Kingdom troops deployed to Duscur, decimated.

 Including Glenn.

 Only Dimitri and a young Duscur boy remain.

 He stops by a desolate Fraldarius castle first.

Felix is alone.

Sylvain stays a week.

 He skips the capital for now. There’s too much happening in Fhirdiad.

From the rumors he hears circulating on his travels further South…

He’ll stop by on his way back up to Gautier.

 He arrives in Galatea with little fanfare and chilled to the bone.

The lands are more barren than he remembers.

He mutters a brief greeting to Count Galatea and silently walks the halls to the room his heart tugs him toward.

Everyone has left her alone.

No one has tried coaxing her out.

 What are we supposed to do?

Get through it. Together.

 He knocks on her door, not expecting an answer.

 It swings open immediately and Ingrid comes crashing into his arms.

 It feels like I’ve loved you since forever.

-

Sylvain is nineteen when he enters the Officer’s Academy at Garreg Mach Monastery alongside his friends.

 He sees Dimitri greeting several new faces to the Blue Lions house. He sees Felix stalking off to what he can only assume is the direction of the armory.

He sees a swinging golden braid and his feet are running before his mind catches up.

 He catches Ingrid by the shoulders and swings her around when she stumbles under his weight. The smell of citrus and orange blossoms fill his senses once more. “Sylvain!”

He beams, his blood thrumming at the sight of her, well-rested, the light back in her green eyes as she mockingly glares at him. “Excited to see me?”

She scoffs. “In your dreams.”

He half expects her to shrug him off.

 She doesn’t.

The smile on his face grows even wider.

-

Sylvain is twenty and it feels like they celebrated Ingrid’s birthday just yesterday when they watch Dimitri break in the Holy Mausoleum.

 His childhood friend’s laughter, crazed, broken laughter rings in his ears in the days that follow. He hears nonsensical mumbling and pacing through their shared wall.

 Sylvain is twenty when he knocks on Ingrid’s door once more.

It swings open and he crashes into her arms.

 Her hands weave through his hair and the ringing in his ears quiet.

The Professor has fallen and Sylvain watches Garreg Mach Monastery crumble before them.

 He’s lived this life before, but it doesn’t make it any easier.

 An arm swings around his neck and a pair of lips crash into his.

Sylvain’s heart knows her before his eyes see her.

His hands grapple for her waist and her hands shift to cup his face. Like she remembers.

 Like she understands what’s going on, and she’s making up for the times that they’ve lost.

 Her lips are desperate against his, her breath hot in his mouth as the salty taste of their tears hits his tongue. He doesn’t want to let go. He doesn’t want to open his eyes and re-live the chaos he remembers but still remained powerless to stop.

 He doesn’t want to leave her.

 Her lips are desperate against his and they finally break away, foreheads knocking almost immediately after.

Wanting to be close.

Needing to be close.

 Sylvain finally opens his eyes again and Ingrid’s eyes are boring into his.

They look as old as his do.

The words are stuck in his throat. Why are you kissing me like this is the last time?

 Ingrid’s lips move before his do, her words echoing with the memory of their past life. “Stay alive.”

You’ll find a way.

He smiles weakly back. “Only for you.”

Only for you.

 She pulls him down to kiss him one more time, slower. Gentler.

Like it’s not the last time.

 Then they separate.

-

Sylvain is twenty-six when Ingrid catches him by the neck and kisses him again, victory horns sounding in their ears.

 That ancient box in his heart remains shut as he feels her smile into his mouth.

 I’ve loved you since the very first time.

Ingrid is twenty-five when she cups Sylvain’s face to bring him closer, her lips meeting his as his arms wind around her waist, his warmth bleeding into her chest.

 The silver wedding band on her finger glints under the summer sun.