#wanting it to be Over. wanting not to be left incomplete and empty anymore.

[shadowtraveled]

"mithrun is the only real monsterfucker in dungeon meshi" is objectively the funniest bit you can get out of his everything, but in all seriousness i think his attraction to his love interest is deliberately overstated—and that makes sense, because romantic jealousy is a classic and digestible motive, which is explicitly what kabru was aiming for in condensing mithrun's backstory, and also because until chapter 94, mithrun wasn't willing to admit to the true nature of his desires.

but because romantic envy is both classic and digestible, it probably isn’t a unique enough or complicated enough desire to tempt a demon’s appetite. mithrun’s wish, as far as we can figure from kabru’s reduced retelling, was to have a life in which he had never become one of the canaries, and that carries like 3857 implications and desires within it. that’s delicious. his love interest acts as sort of a red herring to his motivation for making it, though. (side note: i'm saying "love interest" here because, keeping in mind that i barely speak japanese on a good day anymore, "想い人" is something i'd usually take as just kind of an old-fashioned and romantic way to refer to a lover, but in context i wonder if both the connotation of yearning and the vagueness are intentional, and i think this phrasing gets those aspects of it more effectively. anyway.)

mithrun considered his love interest to be untrustworthy. there was a minute where i thought that comment might be about a similar-looking elf (yugin, one of his squad members), but comparing the two…

the "sketchy" arrow is definitely referring to the elf we know as his love interest—the bangs go toward her right, she only has the one forehead ornament, and, most notably, her ears aren't notched.

every time she’s given a full-body depiction in his dungeon, she’s drawn as a chimera, with the body of a snake from the waist down. (side note: the “what if a dungeon has chimeras before reaching level 4?”/“then the dungeon lord is unstable” exchange just being mithrun grilling his past self alive is so funny. he’s so. but anyway) there are a couple things about this.

first, the snake part of the chimera appears to be modeled after some species of coral snake mimic

which, in the biology-for-fun manga, i… doubt is a coincidence, especially with the added context of the “untrustworthy” comment. the dungeon’s conjured illusion of mithrun’s love interest was a harmless copycat of a venomous original. for whatever reason, he felt this person was a threat and made up a "safe" version of her to be in a relationship with, and while it’s definitely possible to be attracted to or even love someone you find to be toxic and/or intimidating, when you take that into consideration alongside the configuration of her body, you get some interesting implications.

which brings us to our second point: if we assume that mithrun was not in fact fucking a snake, then sexual attraction, at least, was so far removed from his idea of a relationship with this person that he did not even bother to keep her dungeon copy human enough to maintain the illusion of the option of a sexual relationship. this is somewhat echoed in the depictions of their interactions, which also imply a frankly unexpected romantic distance. she kisses his cheek and he doesn't seem to react; she's at the edge of a narrow bed with only one set of pillows, on top of his blankets while he's underneath them.

the kiss is particularly interesting because it seems to contrast the text. kabru's narration tells us this was everything mithrun could have asked for, but mithrun is there looking unreadable to pensive, likely because this is right before the panel that makes it clear things in the dungeon are beginning to go wrong.

walking through this backwards for a minute, we have the physical barrier of his bedding and the spatial separation inherent in a bed made for one person, the emotional barrier of his mounting anxiety getting in the way of his ability to enjoy the affection he sought, and... the snake, which historically carries the connotation of temptation, yes, but also mistrust, barring physical intimacy. okay. ok. if a dungeon reflects the mentality of its lord, all of this might suggest that mithrun was not able to have any real desire for a relationship with this person. his unwillingness to be vulnerable or let another person in was insurmountable. but in that case, why was she such a focal point that she remained to the end, after his dungeon had stopped creating iterations of his friends to come and visit him? why would he get so upset over her meeting with his brother that he became lord of a dungeon about it?

well. mithrun's brother was also interested in her, probably genuinely. and mithrun had to win.

you have an older brother who your parents completely ignore, probably in part because he is chronically ill/disabled and almost definitely in part because he received a ton of recessive traits that resulted in rumors that he was an illegitimate child. you are aware, most likely because those same parents fucking told you, that you actually are an illegitimate child. but they keep you around because you had the good fortune of looking just like your mother. what can that possibly teach you but that you, like your brother, are disposable?

it's utterly unsurprising that mithrun, under these circumstances, developed a pathological need to be better than everyone around him. people don't keep you otherwise. i'd argue this is also why he says he looked down on everyone he knew while milsiril claims his dungeon reeked of feelings of inferiority—he sought out people's worst traits and prioritized them in his mind to protect his already extremely fragile sense of self-worth, and all the while he tried to be as likable and high-performing as he possibly could be. his parents disposed of him anyway, but even then he tried to keep up the performance. he was kind to everyone. he never once lost to a dungeon.

when he saw his "love interest" meeting up with his brother, what he saw was himself being replaced by a person his parents had always treated as worthless, and if that was what they thought of the child they'd kept, what value could anyone possibly see in the bastard they'd given away to die? mithrun and kabru tell the story like he wanted to win this unnamed elf's heart, but it was never about being with her. it was about cementing his worth, proving that he didn't deserve to be thrown away.

and so it's particularly cruel that his demon discarded him, too. but maybe it's also particularly gentle that, in the end, there was someone who refused to even consider giving up on him.

kui laid it out in three panels better than i could hope to.

yeah. it's love. you wanted to be loved, even when the only way you were able to understand it was through the desire to be wanted, and you wanted that so badly that the idea of being consumed felt like the promise of finally mattering to someone.

[orellazalonia]

Unexpected Outlook

Summary: The Avengers launch a mission to raid a known base of the organization you now work with and discuss over what they found.

Word Count: 1.7k+

A/N: A little shorter since it’s Father’s Day, but I also wanted to add more weight to the previous chapter and progress the story.

Main Masterlist | The One You Don’t See Masterlist

Preparations moved fast. Too fast, maybe.

Steve didn’t like that they were running with incomplete information, but the longer they waited, the deeper this organization could dig itself into global systems. And the more time you had to assist them, whether willingly or not.

Still, it didn’t sit right. None of it did.

Bruce pulled the files. Natasha studied known locations. Sam monitored chatter. Bucky cleaned his weapons with a look in his eyes like he wanted answers he didn’t have the right to ask.

Yet no one brought up your name again. At least, not directly. But it hovered beneath everything.

The way Bucky checked each plan twice. The way Natasha’s jaw twitched when she reviewed footage. Even the way Steve hesitated before calling it an official mission.

The woman Bucky liked didn’t voice objections anymore. She simply kept a kind, quiet distance, like someone watching friends argue over a lost cause.

And within a week, the op was set.

Steve gave the greenlight with his jaw tight and eyes harder than usual. The mission was clear: infiltrate a suspected communications hub. A nondescript, rural compound masked as a grain storage facility. Satellite data showed encrypted signals routing through it over the last month, signals that matched ones the Avengers used internally.

Which meant either someone was watching. Or someone had been taught how.

They went in with a small team. Just Steve, Sam, Natasha, and Bucky. No need for Hulk or Thor; this wasn’t a battering ram job. It was a retrieval and disrupt operation. Quiet and clean.

Or so they thought.

The quinjet landed half a mile out, under cover of dense fog rolling over the hills. The forest beyond the compound was eerily still like it had been holding its breath since before dawn.

“They want us to find this,” Natasha muttered, brushing a branch aside as they crept through the trees.

Steve didn’t argue. His shield was strapped to his arm, but he hadn’t raised it once.

They reached the clearing. The compound was just as expected. Gray concrete, flat roof, minimal security fencing, and a gravel path leading to two entrances. No guards. No movement. Even the air felt… hollow.

Sam scanned the building with a handheld sensor. “No heat signatures. Not even a rat.”

“Too clean,” Bucky said, voice low.

They breached the back door.

Inside, it was dark but not ruined. Every surface was wiped. Consoles powered down. Not destroyed, removed. Carefully like a move-out rather than an attack. Upon investigating further, files had been cleared, drawers emptied, and chairs pushed in with bland desks.

Whoever had been here knew exactly when to leave.

Steve turned in a slow circle, taking it in.

“This was active,” He said. “Days ago.”

“Hours, maybe,” Natasha said, crouching beside a desk. She tapped the edge, there was a faint spot where something electronic had been sitting. Someone had worked here… and then vanished.

Sam stepped into the central control room. There was only one thing left behind: a monitor left switched on, flickering a soft blue light in the dimness.

A single message scrolled across the screen.

Too late, Captain.

That was it. There wasn’t any long monologues. No other mocking comments. Not even a signature or sign-off present. Just a cold fact. Steve stared at it like he could will it to change. Bucky stood a step behind him, arms folded, expression unreadable.

“I don’t like this,” Sam muttered.

Natasha approached a wall panel and pried it open effortlessly. Inside, wires had been sliced. Intentionally. However, there were no explosives. No traps could be seen anywhere either. It was all just… closure.

“They stripped this place surgically,” She said. “No fingerprints, no traces. It’s like they wanted us to know they were here… but not who they are.”

Steve closed the monitor with a clenched jaw. “This wasn’t a base. It was a decoy.”

“No,” Bucky said suddenly. His voice was soft but steady. “It was a base. It just outlived its usefulness.”

They all turned toward him. He looked at the empty room, the missing equipment, and the quiet hallways. Then, to the message. And for a moment, something shifted in his eyes. Guilt, maybe or something deeper.

“They planned for this,” He murmured. “Someone told them exactly how we’d come.”

No one responded, but no one needed to. Because they were all thinking it.

-

The debrief room was thick with a heavy silence, the kind that pressed down harder than shouting. Ghost-blue blueprints and photos of the abandoned compound still flickered on the monitors, reminders of how quickly their plan had unraveled. Notes about the missing equipment and the chilling message on the screen scrolled slowly, marking everything they should have anticipated.

Steve hadn’t sat once since they returned. He stood rigid at the head of the table, hands braced on his hips, and a deep furrow like it was etched there permanently. Sam had stopped pacing but his leg bounced nervously, jaw clenched tight. Natasha’s fingers tapped against her thigh in a rhythm so steady it barely seemed voluntary.

Only Bucky remained perfectly still, arms crossed, and eyes locked on the screen across the room. He said very little since they’d left the empty compound since that message haunted him.

Too late, Captain.

The words weren’t just text; they carried a weight, a deliberate coldness that dug into Bucky’s mind. Whoever had left it knew him. Not just the soldier, but his moves, his instincts. And worse, their enemy had used the knowledge you once held to outmaneuver them.

The memory played on loop in his mind. Not just the words but the feel of them. The calculation in them. Whoever was behind that terminal… knew him. Not just facts. His patterns.

And maybe worse than that, they’d used your knowledge to do it. They probably used you to do it.

The door hissed open.

She stepped in with her usual soft elegance, cradling a fresh cup of tea between her hands like she had no idea anything had gone wrong. Dressed casual, warm, and comfortable. Like she belonged. Like she didn’t feel the same tension that pulled everyone else taut. The one you used to be jealous of had sat out for the mission after all.

“Oh,” She said lightly. “You’re all back already.”

Her tone wasn’t mocking. If anything, it was gently surprised, as if she’d simply walked into a meeting that ended early. Steve didn’t answer right away. Neither did the others.

She blinked, smile sweet and expectant, like someone unaware they were intruding. “Was it a short mission?”

“We were too late,” Steve said flatly, straightening.

Her brows lifted, and she crossed to the table, setting the tea down. “Really? That’s unfortunate. I thought it was just one of those cleanup things. You all make those look so easy.”

Sam looked over, jaw tight. “They cleaned up, alright. Took every last trace of themselves. Left us a polite message, too.”

“They knew how we’d approach,” Natasha added with her arms crossed now. “Like they knew our pattern. Our flow. They stripped the place within hours of our arrival window.”

“Hmm.” She tapped a fingernail against the ceramic. “That’s strange. Maybe they had inside intel?”

“No,” Steve spoke, narrowing his eyes. “Not unless someone studied us long before they left.”

“Oh.” She blinked, tilting her head. “So… do you think your old administrator friend told them?”

Bucky stiffened.

Natasha’s voice was sharper now, eyes narrowing. “She’s not our anything.”

That seemed to amuse her. She let out a light laugh, the kind meant to dissolve tension, not that anyone was asking for it. “Well, you’re not wrong,” She smiled. “ She didn’t really fit in here anyways, did she?”

Bruce, who had been mostly quiet, looked up sharply. “She worked here for over two years.”

She didn’t seem phased. There was no malice on her face actually. Just soft confidence.

“I guess I didn’t think she’d be important,” She sighed simply. “Kind of kept to herself. I always assumed she’d move on.”

Sam stood, voice tight. “She did. Straight into the hands of the people trying to tear us apart.”

Her smile faltered just a touch. “I didn’t mean—look, I’m sure she was… sweet. I just don’t see how it helps to chase after someone who clearly didn’t want to be here. Don’t you think she made her choice?”

Steve’s eyes narrowed. “We don’t know that yet.”

“I mean, sure,” She said gently, “But if she’s really that dangerous, wouldn’t you have noticed before she left? You didn’t even realize she was gone until weeks later, right?”

Bucky shifted slightly. The burn in his chest deepened. Not from her words exactly, but from how true they rang.

They hadn’t noticed. They hadn’t looked.

The woman moved closer to Bucky, noticing his subtle distress as she rested her hand lightly on Bucky’s shoulder.

“I just worry about you,” She confessed softly, smiling up at him. “You’re all stretched so thin already. I’d hate to see you waste energy chasing ghosts.”

Her hand lingered. But Bucky’s jaw clenched, and for once, he didn’t lean into her touch.

“She’s not a ghost,” He muttered. “She’s a mirror. Of everything we missed.”

Her expression flickered for barely a moment. Then the sweet smile returned.

“Well, if you have to go after her,” She brushed her hand away, her expression turning more solemn. A hint of pity evident, “I hope you’re prepared for what you find. Sometimes people change… and not always in ways you can fix. I don’t want you to be hurt.”

She reached for her tea again, her fingers wrapping around the cup like it was an anchor.

“And if you do decide to keep going after her, well.” She gave a gentle little laugh, looking around with open, innocent eyes. “I hope it goes well. I really mean that. And if you need my help at all… just let me know. I’m always happy to support the team.”

The door hissed softly behind her as she walked out, quiet heels tapping against the floor in steady, graceful rhythm.

The rest of the team stood in silence for a few long seconds, each lost in their own storm of thoughts.

Steve broke it first.

“We move forward. We stop that organization before it spreads deeper.”

“And if she’s helping them willingly?” Sam asked, his voice low.

Steve hesitated.

So, Bucky answered instead.

“Then we stop her, too.”

Taglist: @herejustforbuckybarnes @iyskgd @torntaltos @julesandgems @maesmayhem @w-h0re @pookalicious-hq @parkerslivia @whisperingwillowxox @stell404 @wingstoyourdreams @seventeen-x @mahimagi @viktor-enjoyer @vicmc624 @msbyjackal @winchestert101 @greatenthusiasttidalwave

[monro3-rambles]

i'm fucking evil

Title: “Even Death Couldn’t Keep You” Pairing: Sukuna x Wife!Reader Genre: Angst, Reincarnation, Soft Redemption Tinge Word Count: ~1,300

He didn’t feel it at first.

Not truly. Not in a way that made sense.

The moment your heart stopped, the cursed energy in you vanished—and the world felt wrong. Not empty. Not cold. Just… incomplete.

A glitch in the system. A crack across the sky.

You had been immortal.

He made sure of it. He had torn kingdoms apart for it. Fed you talismans soaked in divine blood, bathed your soul in curses, carved ancient sigils into your bones to bind you to him for eternity.

So how? How could you—how dare you—die?

He stood over your body for hours. Days. It didn’t matter. Time was nothing without you.

You looked peaceful, and that made it worse. Like you simply slipped away instead of fighting to stay. Like you chose to leave him.

His fists were clenched, trembling. Not with rage—never rage. He had nothing left to destroy.

He already lost the one thing that mattered.

“Sukuna,” Uraume said quietly, from behind. “We must prepare the rites—”

“Get out,” he growled, not turning around.

“Sukuna—”

“I SAID—” his voice broke, raw and bitter, “—get out.”

They left.

He knelt beside you.

You always looked small when you were asleep. It used to amuse him. The King of Curses, tamed by something so delicate. So mortal.

Except you weren’t mortal. Not anymore. Not since he made you something beyond human. Beyond death.

So why—

He pressed his forehead to yours. His claws curled around your lifeless fingers.

“…I would’ve killed the gods for you,” he whispered, hollow. “And I did.”

You didn’t answer. Of course you didn’t.

He’d killed men for less.

He would burn the stars for more time.

But nothing came.

Nothing worked.

She was gone.

The first and only thing he called his own, the only soul who reached into the abyss and stayed—was gone.

And Sukuna, for the first time in thousands of years, was left behind.

Years passed. Decades. Centuries.

He let the world rot.

The rituals were pointless. The offerings a mockery.

He became nothing but myth and fear again. No longer king—just a monster.

He wanted to fade, sometimes. Let the fury eat him whole.

But your name stayed etched in his soul like a scar that never healed. And he never forgot.

Then came the vessel.

Sukuna wasn’t surprised when some foolish brat consumed his finger. It was bound to happen eventually. And he didn’t care—just another pathetic host to wear like a skin.

But then—

Then he saw you.

Not across a battlefield. Not in a dream. Inside the vessel.

You weren’t fully there—just a flicker, a soul clinging to his like a forgotten thread.

But he felt you.

Felt you.

His cursed heart stuttered. A phantom ache surged through him like blood rushing into old wounds.

“...No,” he hissed inside the domain. “It can’t be.”

But there you were.

Your essence. Your signature. That soft, defiant warmth that always contradicted his rot.

You weren’t complete yet. Reincarnated, but sleeping. Waiting. Like he had.

The vessel didn’t know. No one did.

But he knew. He would always know.

“You little fool,” he whispered to himself, staring at the fragment of you curled deep in Yuji Itadori’s soul. “You followed me.”

He should’ve laughed.

Instead, he trembled.

It was pathetic. Undignified. Human.

But he felt something he hadn’t in over a thousand years.

Hope.

Later, when you opened your eyes—

It wasn’t in a shrine. Or a palace. Or a battlefield like before.

It was a classroom.

You didn’t remember everything—just flashes. Heat. Teeth. A laugh like thunder and blood in your veins that didn’t belong to you.

But when you looked into Yuji’s reflection one night and your eyes flashed a little too red…

A voice greeted you.

Low. Reverent. Terrified.

“…You’re here.”

You froze.

“Don’t be afraid,” the voice said. “It’s me.”

“...Who are you?”

A pause. Then:

“The one you made a monster of.” “The one who never forgot you.” “The one who waited.”

And deep inside you, like a second heartbeat rising from the ashes—

You remembered.

[gaywriterdude]

Hourglass | Time Travel AU Part 4

fic | masterpost | prev | next ~3.6k words

This talks about death and miscarriage, so fair warning

He was burning. He was being ripped apart at the seams, from his skin to his bones to his very atoms. He was unmade, particles scattered like dust in the wind. He was—

— suffocating on the damp, dark air. His bleeding hands pounded desperately against the lid of the casket. He was running out of—

— time before they caught him. He ran blindly down the stairs, arms frantically trying to stop the blood gushing from the hole in his stomach. He just had to get to the portal, and then he’d be safe. He glanced down and found his front drenched in—

— green. Green everywhere. He was drowning in it. He searched for a way out, his hands—

— clawing at the ground as he dragged his broken body to the door, only to find it locked. His gaze found the bomb in the center of the room, the number 10 mocking him as it changed to 9. Grim acceptance filled him, and he slumped down against the—

— door behind him and ran down the street. He had to get help, Mama wasn’t waking up, and he needed his—

— Mama was screaming. So was Baba. He wanted to go to them, but he was stuck staring at the sky, unable to move, as the car burned with his parents inside it. He hoped it would be over soon, so that Mama and Baba wouldn’t hurt anymore. He thought maybe he wouldn’t hurt anymore either, because everything was getting fuzzy, but then there was a flash of green, and he was being pulled apart—

￣￣￣￣

His particles came back to him an eternity later when no time had passed. He felt like he was missing something, as if being unmade and remade through lifetimes had changed him so irrevocably that his particles didn’t fit together the same way. His soul had changed.

He’d seen so much hurt, experienced it as if it was his own. Their particles had merged so thoroughly that he felt incomplete without them.

He also felt so, so tired.

He let the darkness wash away the emptiness.

￣￣￣￣

Jason awoke gradually. The first thing he noticed was the distant sound of traffic, and a persistent dripping noise. As he woke up further, he became aware of his closed eyelids and the sunlight blinding him through them. He could feel a rough concrete floor beneath him, small rocks and pebbles digging into his back. Then he noticed the pain. His entire body burned and muscles he didn’t know he had were sore. There was a pulsing stab in his skull, as if someone had taken an ice pick to the center of it.

He peeled his eyes open despite the light, determined to assess the situation. After a few tries, his eyes adjusted and he was left staring at the slightly rusted metal rafters of a warehouse ceiling. The same warehouse he’d been in when—

What the hell happened?

His memory returned to him all at once — the cultists, being taken to the warehouse, that bloody circle, calling out for his dad, blinding light and then flashes of two lifetimes. Who was that other boy, the one whose greatest pain Jason had witnessed?

There was a groan from next to him. When Jason finally managed to tilt his head enough to look over, he was shocked at what he saw.

It was a teenage boy. Maybe. They had fluffy black hair, cool brown skin, and their nose had a pronounced bridge. They were wearing dark cargo pants and some sort of black graphic tee. The most noticeable thing about them, though, was the bulge of their stomach that couldn’t be anything other than pregnancy.

The boy — boy? The person groaned again, likely feeling the same agony Jason was. Their hands twitched, but didn’t move.

Jason inhaled to speak — what he was going to say, he hadn’t figured out yet — and promptly fell into a coughing fit. His lungs spasmed for a few minutes, throat aching, until finally he was able to take a full breath.

The person was looking at him. Jason’s mind was still rebooting.

“What the fuck?” he mumbled finally. The voice that came out was not the voice he expected. “What the fuck?” Jason repeated disbelievingly in that squeaky, high-pitched voice.

He looked down at himself and found his body to be much smaller than he was used to. Lanky, with shoulders he was still growing into, but also teenager-sized. Decidedly not the buff 6’5 he was used to. He was wearing a pair of Wonder Woman sweatpants and a red hoodie, and for a moment Jason remembered— with clarity he hadn’t had in years — those same sweatpants on as he boarded a cheap flight across the sea, filled with anger and a hesitant hope that would soon be his downfall. He was so angry at Bruce, full of spiteful teenage rage with nowhere to put it. He was scared that without Robin, Bruce would grow bored of him and he’d end up back on the streets. He’d been so desperate — for someone to love him, maybe, but really just for a backup plan once Bruce inevitably got rid of him — that he’d tried to save Sheila even though she was working with the Joker, only for her to turn him in to be tortured to death.

His memories were surprisingly clear of any green rage, and for the first time since his resurrection Jason was able to recall the fact that Bruce loved him, and Jason had known it. Recalled that away from the masks of Brucie an Batman there was Dad. But a traumatized adult with bad coping mechanisms had only passed on those bad coping mechanisms to his son, and the scared street kid in Jason never really went away. And so, when faced with what he perceived as the severing of ties, as Bruce firing him from sonhood instead of just Robinhood, Jason the scared street kid had searched desperately for any other ties he had left and ran before he could be kicked out.

How had he forgotten all that? Had the Lazarus Pit really fucked up his brain that much that he had lost every happy memory of Bruce he had?

He couldn’t think of that right now. Right now he was in a tiny body, in the clothes he was wearing when he’d boarded a plane to his death, in a working warehouse that had been abandoned when he’d blacked out. And when he looked closer at the cement floor beneath him, he could see a large runic circle burned into the ground around Jason and the stranger next to him.

Flashes of two lifetimes of pain. A car, an explosion, a green tear in the universe, a bloody stomach, green. Green.

Maybe not a stranger.

Jason turned his head to look at the person next to him. They looked back with glowing green eyes. Something in his chest hummed, and the emptiness Jason hadn’t noticed faded away.

Oh, there you are.

“Danyal,” Jason said instinctively.

“Jay,” Danyal said with a sad smile.

￣￣￣￣

Danny knew when he woke up that something had gone terribly wrong. Something had happened to his core when the ritual went wrong, he had been thrown through two sets of memories and he had trouble telling which were his.

A whisper in his ear, a voice like static and a clock ticking. “I’m sorry, Danyal, but it will be better this time.”

His eyes caught on the swell of his stomach, of the warmth of Dan and Ellie’s cores inside his, and he knew. He was 15 again. Somehow.

He turned and saw the boy whose life he’d just lived. Young, awkward and lanky in a way that said he’d grow into it by his next growth spurt, but there was a sharpness to him. His hair was dark brown, almost black, and his skin was a warm honey brown. A square jaw, sharp cheekbones, wide nose, plump lips. Probably 15, probably not supposed to be.

The boy turned, and Danny’s eyes met deep blue ones.

“Danyal,” the boy said, and Danny’s core hummed.

“Jay,” Danny replied, instinctively knowing his name. He smiled a sad smile at the confirmation that they’d shared their pain.

They sat in silence for a few moments, as the truth kicked in.

“That happened?” Jay asked. Danny nodded. His hand unconsciously moved to cradle his stomach.

“Summoning gone wrong, somehow our cores intertwined and we experienced each other’s memories, and now we’re 15 again,” Danny mumbled, staring in awe at his belly where little fluttering kicks hit his hand.

Jay looked around at the warehouse full of boxes and said, “I’m assuming this is a time thing and not just a de-aging? I mean there was that big hourglass in the circle.”

Danny’s head shot up. Hourglass?

“What did it look like?” he asked seriously, “How big was it? Were there any runes and carvings on it?”

Jay stared at the ceiling for a second before he responded. “It was bigger than a person, had weird runes in the same language as the summoning circle, and it broke just as the fucked up cultists finished the ritual,” He said. His fingers twitched at his side.

Fuck. Probably one of Clockwork’s, then. It broke, which is probably why they’re in the past and not surrounded by cultists. He’d need to study the rune of the circle closely to figure out what the ritual was supposed to accomplish, but luckily they seemed to be burned into the floor.

“Fuck,” Danny groaned after a minute.

Jay gave him a contemplative, slightly frustrated look. “Okay, as soon as my body is no longer revolting we’re getting some food and then you’ll tell me everything you know,” He grunted.

Danny nodded at him. They would need to work together to figure out how to get back, anyhow.

It took him a few painful minutes to roll to his knees and stumble to his feet, but by the time he had Jay was also unsteadily standing a few feet from him.

Danny quickly found a notepad in the windowsill, and carefully copied down the runic circle.

“Okay, now we’re good,” he said and turned to the door.

Normally Danny wouldn’t be so eager to go to a second location with a stranger, no matter the circumstances, but whatever happened to them during that ritual had linked their cores so intrinsically that he didn’t hesitate. His very core trusted Jay, despite how much Danny’s logical thinking wanted him to be more cautious.

“Alright, let’s find a burger joint and figure out when and where we are, yeah?”

￣￣￣￣

“Can you repeat that?” Jason choked.

“It’s 10 AM on April 27, 2015, and you are in Hickory Hill, Tennessee, about a two hour drive from Johnson City,” the elderly waitress repeated with a kind smile.

“Thank you, we’ll have two coffees and two of whatever today’s special is,” Danny said quietly, shoulders tense, and the waitress walked away.

Jason let out a heavy sigh. He was in the past, in his 15-year-old body, and he was supposed to die in roughly 12 hours. Bit of a problem, considering he was in Tennessee and wasn’t exactly in the mood to skip gladly to his death. Judging by his clothes, he had probably been on a late-night flight to Ethiopia — or just getting off of one — when the ritual had hijacked his body and put his 20-year-old mind inside it.

Which, mindfuck much?

Danyal sat across from him, mindless caressing his stomach, and seemed as lost in thought as Jason. Luckily, the food came out quick so he didn’t have to worry about what kind of small talk was appropriate for the situation.

The food was devoured just as quickly. Jason ordered more for the road, and soon they found themselves in a small park eating out of to-go boxes.

“So…” Danyal said awkwardly, breaking the silence they’d been in.

“So… time travel,” Jason responded. He took another bite to avoid thinking about it much.

Danyal fiddled with his fingers. “Yeah. What do you remember on your end?”

Jason sighed. “There was… I was investigating a suspected trafficking ring in Crime Alley, kids going missing, and it turned out to be a group of cultists snatching street kids as future sacrifices,” Jason said, glaring at a bug by his feet.

Danyal cursed.

“Yeah. So, after more investigation, I called John Constantine. He’s the magic guy, I don’t know, but all the cultists were brainwashed by their leader into worshiping him like a god, and they wanted to summon something all-powerful to give that power to the leader. Constantine actually took it seriously, which had me panicking cause since when does Constantine take shit seriously? World ending shit is when,” the boy continued. “And he said he knew a guy who would come help me. I was staking out a warehouse of theirs when they started loading kids into vans. I followed, but I’m only one guy, so I called backup. I managed to down most of them by the time backup arrived, and I didn’t realize that one had escaped. They shot me with a tranquilizer while Batman was getting all the kids to the ambulances.”

“You’re the Red Hood? Constantine said Red Hood was investigating a group of cultists,” Danyal asked once Jason paused to take a breath.

“Yeah, how do you know Hellblazer?” Jason looked at him and replied curiously.

“I’ll tell you after,” the other boy motioned him on.

“Well, I woke up in a different warehouse, chained up in the center of a ritual circle. There was this massive hourglass in the center with me, it had all these intricate runes carved in it. The cultists surrounded the circle in rings and started chanting. Batman got there, started fighting them off, but there were a couple rings ya know? And the hourglass kept breaking the more the chanting continued. The thing broke just as the chanting finished, and then there was a flash of red and I was… it’s hard to remember, it was a fuzzy in-between state but there are flashes of memories. Some of them are yours, I think. I woke up this morning in the same warehouse, only it wasn’t abandoned anymore and you were in the circle with me, and now I’m 15 again,” Jason finished, voice rough.

“Well,” Danyal began, “My story involves a lot of context that I think we can go over later, but the gist is that in about three years I accidentally become king of another dimension full of very powerful beings. Shit happened, I didn’t really want to involve myself with humans anymore, but at one point one of my subjects was going wild in this dimension and I came to clean up the mess. Constantine kept me as a contact for future issues involving my subjects, and world-ending disasters that someone as powerful as me could prevent as a last resort. Yesterday — future yesterday — Constantine came to me about a cult that was trying to summon the King, and the ritual might work.”

“Why would the ritual working be a problem if you’re the king and you’re nice?” Jason interrupted.

Danyal continued, “Context, the previous king was a tyrant and sealed away, but it took a lot of people and no one was strong enough to fully kill him. He was released a few years ago by an enemy of mine, and I fought him and sealed him away again. By doing so I accidentally won the title of King from him. Anyways, Constantine was afraid that the ritual would be powerful enough to summon the previous king, so he contacted me. Based on your evidence, I think the cult was started by the same enemy of mine that released the previous king, which made me extra suspicious that the ritual would work, or that it would somehow bind me to his will,” the pregnant boy went on, “So I grabbed by stuff and flew to an open portal to Gotham — I gotta fix those — anyway time works a little funny in the dimension I’m king of, so as I was flying the ritual finished and that red light flashed, and I experienced that same hazy flashes of memories, and then I woke up in the warehouse next to you in my 15 year old body.”

“…You accidentally became king of an entire dimension?” was all Jason could think to say.

“It’s called the Infinite Realms, it’s basically the Realm of the Dead, and it’s full of supernatural entities, the undead, gods, and every afterlife ever,” Danyal said with a bit of a manic grin.

“Okay… Imma ignore that. Are you one of those supernatural entities, or did a human accidentally become king of another dimension?” Jason asked. His mind was already fucked by the time travel, whatever the fuck the Infitie Realms were could wait.

“I died in a really traumatic way at 14 and was turned into half of another species, a Denizen of the Realms, and then spent years being hunted down by both my parents and a government agency set on experimenting and exterminating me and other Denizens.”

The brown-haired boy stared at that. “I die in a really traumatic way in about 8 hours, and then claw my way out of my grave six months from now, only to be snatched by a murder cult and brainwashed into trying to kill my family,” Jason replied with a cynical laugh.

Danyal’s head turned to him sharply at that, but he didn’t comment on it.

“The embodiment of the concept of time itself medically impregnated me with the souls of my reformed evil alternate future self and my clone in order to save their lives, and in about 8 hours my parents shoot me in the stomach and I miscarry anyways,” he said after a moment.

Jason hesitated, “Yeah, I got nothing for that. What the fuck dude?”

Danyal laughed, “My godfather, who is also the enemy I mentioned in my earlier explanation, stole my DNA and cloned me. Ellie was the only one to survive, but she kept destabilizing which is why I got ghost pregnant. This godfather also saw me, 14 and freshly dead, and decided to make it his eternal mission to make my life hell.”

“I was the second Robin, the Joker tortured me to death. And when I got taken by the murder cult I was dunked in a pit of boiling green rage goop that healed me and also cursed me with magic green rage and removed almost all of my happy memories of my family. And then I got brainwashed by the murder cult into hating my family and was sent on an assassin training world tour to learn all the ways to kill them. And then I was sent to Gotham, and attacked the third Robin in a blind rage, and killed a lot of rapists and traffickers, and tried to kill Batman, and then tried to get Batman to kill the Joker and avenge me,” Jason rambled.

“You were the second Robin? Wait, bubbling green goop that healed you?” Danyal asked urgently.

“Yeah, it was, like, glowing and, like, goopy.”

“Okay, quick crash course. The Infinite Realms, also known as the Realm of the Dead, because it has all the afterlives and the Denizens are all either dead or were never alive. The Realms run on soul energy, which is many substances in many forms. This soul energy is called many things, because it is many things, but the umbrella term is Eterion. When in the living dimensions, eterion becomes this glowing green goopy substance, no matter the source. My parents called it ectoplasm, because they made up a word instead of asking a Denizen what it was,” Danyal explained quickly. “Natural portals to the living dimensions sometimes open in the Realms. As King, I became aware of a couple portals to the same dimension that had been somehow kept open permanently. I closed a few, but hadn’t gotten around to all of them. Now, natural portals aren’t supposed to be open for that long, they’re there in an instant and gone the next. These portals were disgusting from being open for so long, and had desperately held onto the emotions of whoever passed through them. If this murder cult was using the portals as some sort of healing bath, then the eterion you were exposed to was repulsive from being dormant for so long as well as holding onto all the emotions from an insane murder cult throwing angry dead people into it. It probably made you sick, and very angry, and clogged up the eterion you’d naturally produce as someone who has died. I would very much like to take you to my doctor in the Realms to fix that.” Danyal made intense eye contact with Jason as he said the last bit, and it felt a little like the other boy was staring into his soul. Was that something Danyal could do?

“I… Okay, sure. Can we get back to the time travel? Can your good friend, the embodiment of the concept of time, fix that for us?” Jason said eventually. His voice was tight, his shoulders tense. The whole situation was a lot.

Danyal opened his mouth to answer, but a flash of light interrupted him, and a green sticky note appeared on the bench between them.

It said:

No. :)

What the fuck, Time?

￣￣￣￣

[benispunk]

Who's That Girl?

Chapter 20: Don't Ever Look Back

It seems that once again, Y/N is in urgent need of her knight in shining leather. Lucky for her, he's always there for her. And more.

logan howlett x reader

TW: language, D&W, slight fight/violence.

A/N: hello!!! guyyyyssss i want to cry...one chapter left....this is it...what you've (we've) been waiting for!!!! or is it???? nahh I'm kidding...unless??? anyway without mentioning anything from this chapter, I just wanted to say that after the last chapter I want to do an epilogue! so if you have any idea please feel free to share!!!! enjoy this chapter🩷

→ this fic is inspired by the TV Show New Girl, Wade and Logan aren't Deadpool and Wolverine (no powers/mutant gene etc) but I did take most of their character traits and storyline!!

Masterlist /Previous Part / Next Part

The walk home felt heavier with each passing day.

Y/N clutched her bag strap a little tighter, her eyes on the pavement as she made her way back to the apartment. The streets were bathed in the dim orange glow of streetlights, the air cool but not cold. It wasn’t the kind of evening that should feel lonely, but it did.

She could feel his absence in every room, every routine they used to share. Breakfast felt incomplete without his gruff morning greetings. Dinner was quiet without his occasional grunts of approval at Wade’s questionable cooking experiments. Even passing conversations had changed into strained, clipped exchanges, if they even happened at all.

She thought she’d imagined it at first—that maybe she was overanalyzing things. But as the days stretched on, it became undeniable: Logan was avoiding her. He left before she woke up, came home after she’d retreated to her room, and spent his time at school holed up in his classroom. Their walks to work had stopped altogether, leaving her to trek to and from the school alone, the absence of his steady, silent presence gnawing at her more than she cared to admit.

Wade had noticed, of course. He’d even apologized for his part in it, guilt written all over his face as he tried to cheer her up with jokes and a promise to “fix things.” But there was no fixing this. How could there be? Logan had clearly made his choice. 

She couldn’t even call it friendship anymore—not when the lines were so blurred. Logan was more than her roommate, more than her colleague. He was... everything. And now he was gone.

Today was no different. The streets were quiet as Y/N walked home from work, the chill of the evening air nipping at her skin. She pulled her coat tighter around herself, her thoughts drifting to the empty apartment she’d return to. It wasn’t just Logan’s absence that weighed on her—it was the way it made her feel, like she’d lost something she’d only just started to realize she couldn’t live without. 

The school day had been no better. Colleagues had started asking questions—jokes at first, about why Logan wasn’t walking her to work anymore, why he hadn’t joined them for lunch. But then the concerned looks came, and she found herself fumbling for excuses. “Oh, he’s just busy,” she’d said with a forced smile. Or, “He’s probably working on something.” Lies she barely believed herself.

Her apartment building was just a few blocks away now, the thought of its familiar walls both comforting and suffocating. Home didn’t feel like home when the person who made it feel that way wasn’t there.

As she turned onto a quieter street, the faint sound of footsteps behind her pulled her from her thoughts.

She glanced over her shoulder, but the street was empty except for the shadow of a flickering lamp post. The faint echo of her own boots hitting the pavement mingled with the persistent rhythm behind her.

Y/N quickened her pace, her heartbeat beginning to match the steps in her ears. She told herself it was nothing—a coincidence, maybe someone walking their dog or heading home from work. But she couldn’t shake the prickling unease crawling up her spine.

When she reached the mouth of an alley, the hand on her shoulder came out of nowhere.

She let out a startled cry, but it was muffled almost instantly by another hand pressing firmly over her mouth. Panic shot through her veins as she twisted in the grip, her wide eyes darting upward to see who had grabbed her.

“Mark.”

Her heart plummeted at the sight of his familiar face. His dark eyes glinted under the dim light, his expression a mix of frustration and something darker. He gripped her tightly, ignoring her attempts to push him away.

“Finally,” he said, his voice low but sharp, as if he were trying to contain something simmering beneath the surface. “I didn’t want it to come to this, but you left me no choice.”

She jerked against his hold, her muffled protests spilling out uselessly. When he finally moved his hand from her mouth, she gasped in a shaky breath. “Let go of me!” she demanded, trying to wrench herself free, but his grip only tightened.

“Relax,” he hissed, pulling her farther into the alley, away from the streetlights. “I just want to talk. That’s all. You owe me that much.”

“I don’t owe you anything, Mark!” she snapped, her voice trembling but defiant. Her eyes darted around, searching desperately for someone—anyone—who might see her and step in. But the street was empty, and the distant hum of cars seemed to mock her helplessness.

“You don’t mean that,” Mark said, his jaw clenching. “You’re upset, I get it. But this isn’t fair, Y/N. I’ve been working on myself. For you. I’ve done everything I could to show you I’ve changed, and this is how you treat me?”

“You didn’t change,” she shot back, her voice breaking slightly. “You’re proving it right now. Let me go.”

His face darkened, and a bitter smile crept onto his lips. “You’re being dramatic. I’m just trying to fix things. You think I’m the bad guy because I won’t let you throw us away? That’s rich, sweetheart.”

She felt her stomach churn as his hand brushed against the pendant hanging around her neck. His fingers closed around the emerald necklace, lifting it slightly to examine it.

“This?” he sneered, holding it up as the faint light reflected off the gem. “Is this what you want? A fancy little trinket? I could give you a hundred of these if that’s all it takes to make you happy. Just say the word.”

“Mark—” she started, but the words caught in her throat as he stepped closer, the bitterness in his eyes morphing into something more dangerous.

“You’re not even listening to me,” he growled. “You never did. You act like you’re so much better than me now, but I know the truth, Y/N. You think this new life you’ve built makes you untouchable? It doesn’t. You’re still you, and I know you better than anyone else ever will.”

She tried to shove him away, but his grip only tightened as he loomed over her. “Stop fighting me,” he snapped. “You’re making this harder than it needs to be.”

Her breath hitched as he leaned closer, his other hand brushing against her arm as she twisted in his hold. Fear and frustration boiled over, tears welling in her eyes as she pushed back harder. “Mark, please!”

But he didn’t stop. His face was too close now, his lips parting as if he meant to—

The force that tore Mark away from her was so sudden and violent that she stumbled back against the wall, gasping for breath.

When her vision steadied, she saw him on the ground, clutching his side, a shadowy figure standing over him.

Logan.

She blinked, momentarily stunned by the sight of him, his broad frame tense and his fists clenched at his sides. His eyes burned with a fury she’d never seen before, and for a moment, she almost felt sorry for Mark. 

Almost.

Logan grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and hauled him up with a single, effortless motion. Mark’s feet barely touched the ground as Logan slammed him against the brick wall, his face mere inches from his.

“You’ve got exactly three seconds to explain why you thought it was a good idea to touch her,” Logan growled, his voice low and lethal.

Mark froze for a beat, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water, before his jaw tightened. He twisted in Logan’s grip, one hand coming up to shove at Logan’s arm. “Back off, man! This is none of your business—”

Logan didn’t let him finish. His hand tightened in Mark’s shirt, and with a surge of strength, he yanked him forward and slammed him back against the brick wall. The sharp crack of impact made Mark let out a strangled gasp, his bravado faltering.

“It became my business the second you laid a hand on her,” Logan hissed. His voice was a low rumble, the kind that sent chills racing down Y/N’s spine even as she watched from a few feet away, still frozen in place.

Mark’s hands pushed uselessly against Logan’s chest, his struggles growing weaker as he realized just how outmatched he was. “You can’t—she’s—” he stammered, but Logan didn’t give him the chance to finish.

“She’s not yours,” Logan cut in, his voice razor-sharp. “Not anymore. Not ever again. You come near her, you talk to her, you look at her the wrong way—” His grip tightened, and Mark winced, his fear now unmistakable. Logan leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a deadly whisper. “You’ll wish I’d ended you here. Do you understand me?”

Mark didn’t respond immediately, his gaze flicking nervously between Logan’s blazing eyes and Y/N’s tear-streaked face.

“I said, do you understand me?” Logan snarled, punctuating the demand by slamming him against the wall again.

“I—yes, I understand!” Mark finally choked out, panic flooding his expression. “I understand, okay?!”

Logan didn’t move for a moment, his eyes boring into Mark’s with a cold, unrelenting fury. Then, as if deciding the man wasn’t worth any more of his time, he released him with a hard shove. Mark stumbled and fell to the ground, scrambling backward on his hands and knees.

“Go,” Logan commanded, his tone sharp and final.

Mark didn’t need to be told twice. He stumbled to his feet, his steps uneven as he bolted from the alley, looking back over his shoulder in terror until he disappeared into the shadows.

Logan stood still for a moment, his chest heaving, the fury still evident in his stiff posture. Slowly, he turned to Y/N, his expression softening the second he saw her trembling form.

“Y/N,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper as he stepped toward her. “Are you okay?”

She nodded weakly, but her tear-streaked face and the way she clutched her arms around herself told a different story.

“I’m fine,” she managed to say, though her voice was shaky and unconvincing.

Logan wasn’t having it. His hands hovered near her shoulders, hesitant but desperate to make sure she was okay. “Did he—” His voice cracked slightly, and he swallowed hard before continuing. “Did he hurt you?”

“No,” she said quickly, the word almost instinctive, but her voice faltered again.

He exhaled deeply, his brow furrowing as he scanned her from head to toe, as though he didn’t trust her answer. His hands finally settled gently on her arms, steadying her. “You’re safe now,” he murmured, his voice softer, the edge of anger replaced by overwhelming concern.

That was when her composure shattered. A sob escaped her lips, and her knees nearly buckled as she covered her face with trembling hands.

“Hey, hey,” Logan said immediately, stepping closer and pulling her into his arms. His hold was firm but careful, as if he was afraid of breaking her. “It’s okay. I’ve got you. I’m here.”

She clung to him, burying her face in his chest as sobs wracked her body. His hand rested on the back of her head, the other rubbing soothing circles on her back as he whispered words of comfort.

“I’m sorry,” she choked out between sobs, though she wasn’t even sure why she was apologizing.

“Don’t,” Logan said firmly, pulling back just enough to tilt her chin up so he could look into her eyes. His gaze was intense, filled with guilt and something else she couldn’t quite place. “You have nothing to be sorry for. This isn’t your fault.”

She nodded weakly, unable to form words, and he wrapped his arms around her again, holding her close like he was afraid to let go.

After a few moments, he leaned down slightly, his voice gentle but resolute. “Let’s go home.”

She nodded again, her head resting against his chest. He kept an arm securely around her as they left the alley, his presence a solid, unwavering anchor in the chaos of her thoughts.

———

The apartment was silent when they arrived. Y/N stepped inside first, her legs dragging beneath her as if the weight of the evening had sunk into her very bones. Logan followed close behind, the door clicking shut with an air of finality that felt louder than it should have in the stillness.

Y/N let her bag slide from her shoulder, dropping it quietly by the couch. She turned to Logan, who lingered near the front door. His posture was rigid, his hands shoved deep into his jacket pockets. His eyes scanned the room briefly before landing on her, though he didn’t hold her gaze for long.

“Wade’s out,” she said softly, her voice sounding far away to her own ears.

Logan nodded, his jaw clenching. “Yeah.”

The air between them was thick, almost suffocating. Y/N crossed her arms over her chest, unsure of what to say or how to fill the silence. Logan was the first to break it.

“Sit down,” he said gruffly, his voice low but firm.

She blinked at him, surprised by the sudden command, but she obeyed without question. Lowering herself onto the couch, she perched on the edge, her hands resting awkwardly in her lap. Logan remained standing, pacing a few steps before running a hand down his face.

“You’re sure you’re okay?” he asked, glancing at her. His tone was sharper than she expected, though it was clear the sharpness wasn’t aimed at her but at himself.

“I’m okay,” she replied with a faint smile, hoping it would reassure him.

It didn’t. His frown deepened as he turned away, his shoulders visibly tense.

“I should’ve…” He trailed off, shaking his head as though the thought itself was unbearable.

Y/N tilted her head, studying him carefully. “Should’ve what?”

“I should’ve been there,” he said, his voice tight. He turned to face her fully, his eyes burning with frustration. “I should’ve been with you, Y/N. And I wasn’t.”

She opened her mouth to speak, but he kept going, the words spilling out as though he couldn’t hold them back any longer.

“I’ve been avoiding you,” he admitted, his voice dropping to a near whisper. “I know you’ve noticed. I’ve been avoiding you because I’m an idiot. And if I hadn’t—if I hadn’t been so—” He stopped, raking a hand through his hair. “Maybe this wouldn’t have happened.”

Y/N stood slowly, her heart aching at the sight of him, so torn up and angry with himself. “Logan, this isn’t your fault,” she said firmly. “He would’ve found a way no matter what. You can’t blame yourself for that.”

His eyes met hers, filled with guilt and something else she couldn’t quite place. He shook his head. “You don’t understand,” he muttered, almost to himself.

She stepped closer, her voice soft but insistent. “Then make me understand.”

Logan exhaled sharply, his gaze flickering to the floor. “I don’t know if I can,” he admitted.

Silence settled over them, the kind that felt louder than words. Y/N watched him carefully, waiting for him to say more, but he didn’t. He just stood there, his hands clenched into fists at his sides, as though he were fighting some invisible battle.

Her heart ached, not just for him but for the distance that had grown between them in the past few days. She wanted to reach out, to close the gap, but something held her back.

Finally, she broke the silence. “I should… I should get some rest,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Logan nodded, though the tension in his body didn’t ease. “Yeah. You should.”

She turned away, her movements slow and deliberate. Each step toward her room felt heavier than the last, the silence behind her pressing down on her like a weight.

Her hand hovered over the doorknob as her thoughts swirled. She could feel his eyes on her, even from across the room. She didn’t have to look to know he was still standing there, watching her retreat.

For a moment, everything stilled. The air felt charged, like the world was holding its breath.

Then, without thinking, she turned around.

Her steps were tentative at first, as though she wasn’t entirely sure of what she was doing, but with each step closer to him, her resolve seemed to strengthen. Logan didn’t move, his body frozen as she came to a stop in front of him.

Her eyes searched his, and before he could say or do anything, she leaned in. Her lips pressed against his, soft and hesitant at first, but filled with a depth of emotion that made Logan’s mind go blank.

For a moment, he didn’t react, too stunned to process what was happening. But then instinct took over, and his hands came up to cup her face, pulling her closer as he kissed her back. The kiss deepened, raw and electrifying, like fireworks exploding behind his closed eyes.

Her hands found their way to his chest, clutching the fabric of his shirt as though grounding herself. His arms wrapped around her, holding her tightly, afraid she might disappear.

Everything else faded away—the apartment, the guilt, the fear. All that existed was the two of them, and the overwhelming realization that this moment had been building for far too long.

When they finally broke apart, both were breathless, their foreheads resting against each other’s. Logan’s hands remained on her waist, his touch firm yet tender.

For a moment, neither of them moved, caught in the stillness of what had just happened. The silence between them was heavy, yet not uncomfortable. It was filled with unspoken words, emotions neither of them was ready to name just yet.

Y/N’s lips curved into a small, slightly bashful smile as she pulled back, her hands slowly releasing their grip on his shirt. “We got school tomorrow,” she said softly, the corner of her mouth twitching with amusement.

Logan blinked at her, the weight of everything lifting just a fraction. Then, unexpectedly, a low chuckle escaped him, followed by a soft, almost boyish laugh. “Yeah… we do,” he replied, his voice laced with warmth and something close to disbelief.

For a moment, they both laughed together, the sound filling the quiet apartment. And for the first time in days, it felt easy—like they weren’t two people carrying the weight of unspoken feelings and complicated histories, but just two people who had found something good in each other.

It was almost ridiculous, the way her words made them feel like teenagers sneaking around after curfew. But maybe that was the magic of it—the way they could find something simple and sweet in the middle of the chaos.

As the laughter faded, Y/N’s gaze softened. “Goodnight, Logan,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

His lips tugged into a small, lopsided smile. “Goodnight, Y/N.”

She lingered for a second longer, as though considering saying more, but instead, she stepped back, her hand brushing lightly against his arm before she turned and walked toward her room.

Logan stood there, watching her until her door clicked shut. He exhaled deeply, running a hand through his hair as a mix of emotions swirled within him—hope, fear, and something he wasn’t ready to name.

In her room, Y/N leaned against the door, her heart still racing. She pressed her fingers to her lips, a faint smile tugging at the corners.

They both knew this wasn’t the end of the conversation. There were things that needed to be said, feelings that couldn’t be left unspoken forever.

But for tonight, it was enough.

And for the first time in days, it felt like maybe—just maybe—everything was going to be okay.

XXX

[lupin-et-rose]

Delivery Service

Inspired by this prompt list

Dazai x Pregnant F!->Reader

Incomplete.

Warnings: Angst & Hurt/Comfort. Beware of mild curing, mentions of pregnancy, lactation, breast pumping, sexual organs, themes of bodily insecurities/dysmoprhia, maternal depression/mental health + Playing it fast and loose with maternity/paternity laws and practices.

Keywords/Kinks: 'Gentle & Commanding'

On a midday morning, you find yourself sitting on the edge of your bed, gazing into the full-length mirror across the room and feeling strangely…distant. Sitting there in what used to be a loose T-shirt, smoothing your hand over the swollen curve of your stomach as you stare at yourself in the full-length mirror, the room is empty, the house is empty, everything is quiet, and you are alone.

Every weekday morning has been like this. Only a few weeks into maternity leave, you already find yourself staring into the bedroom mirror every morning. After Dazai has bustled off to work for the morning and kissed you goodbye. After you’ve had the time to fully wake up and roll your pregnant self upright for the day - you catch your reflection in the full-length mirror, and it stops you in your tracks. Your hands wander over the swollen curve of what used to be a loose and oversized T-shirt. —You barely even recognise yourself anymore….

Staring back at you from that mirror is an almost foreign image. The girl looking back at you has grown. The soft, slender features that had graced her face have expanded a bit, her hips are wider, and the once flat stomach is almost entirely eclipsed by the swollen bump sitting there. That was you…but at the same time, it wasn’t.

You have to admit, the sight was almost surreal. It was hard not to stare at yourself in the mirror, watching the once familiar curves of your body disappear slowly into their soft, gravid shape. You’re so focused on the mirror that you almost don’t notice Dazai standing in the doorway, watching you with that usual soft, lovestruck look on his face. His voice, however, brings you out of your thoughts when he calls to you….

The sound of his voice startles you from your reverie. Sure, she'd sometimes daydreamed about her lover coming home early. But even in all her visions, picturing mirages of his love and comfort…he'd never indeed spoken. So, to hear his voice now-

But that doesn't make sense. He's supposed to be at work right now. The day would've just started, paperwork awaiting at everybody's desk, clients coming through the door. There was no way…The bed creaks beneath you as you crane your neck to see--oh my god, he's actually--

"You're here…"

He smiles in that slow, easy way of his, leaning against the doorframe as his eyes wander down your figure, taking in the subtle changes in your form since he was last in your presence. He makes no move to cross the space that separates you, choosing to watch you instead, taking in the sight of you as he replies.

“Of course I am, did you think I’d miss out on seeing a pretty sight like this?”

"I-I thought you'd already left for work-" You glanced at the alarm clock on their bedside table. "It's already half-past ten--"

Dazai chuckles, stepping back from the doorway and entering your room, crossing the space in long strides before moving to sit on the edge of the bed next to you. He reaches out to you, placing a hand on the curve of your stomach as he looks up at you, his smile still in place on his face as he gently rubs his hand back and forth, admiring the bump there.

“A few clients won’t kill me. Besides…”

He grins widely.

“I think I’d rather be here with you than out there.”

"Please tell me you at least cleared things with Fukuzawa before you left-" You scanned your lover's face. The last thing you wanted was for your beloved to risk his job or any good standing with your friends, all for the sake of impulsively playing hooky just to look after you.

Dazai keeps smiling, the hand on your stomach moving up to push a strand of hair behind your ear before kissing your cheek affectionately. He laughs at your question and shakes his head. Of course, he did - he might be impulsive, but he’s not stupid.

“Of course, belladona. I told him I had a very important…responsibility~ that I needed to be here for…”

He smiled, leaning forward to kiss your belly gently. Then he looked back up at you. He was only partially sorry - he could never truly bring himself to feel too guilty for choosing to spend time with you.

You smiled and moved his hand to yours, intertwining your fingers. "Okay," you acquiesced, with just the slightest sigh of relief. "I'm glad you're here…"

Dazai squeezed your hand affectionately, moving over on the bed until he was sitting next to you and pulling you against his side, wrapping an arm around your waist and holding you close to him in a gentle embrace. He tilted his head to the side as he looked down at you, still smiling, his thumb rubbing small, soothing circles against your side. You knew he liked to do little things like this, especially now that you were pregnant. He was always touching your stomach, or gently rubbing your sides, or resting his hands and head on it as he tried to sense for movement.

***

[girl-trying-to-escape-reality]

It feels like I’ve found myself here again, unsure of what’s happening inside me. Every day, I feel a little more drained, a little more lost. All I want is something real. A love that’s not temporary, something deep, something genuine — not just a fleeting game. But somehow, this is what always seems to come my way.

Has my self-worth really sunk this low? Because if it has, that hurts. I wasn’t like this before. Sometimes, I can’t even recognize myself. There are moments I just want to slap myself — to wake up, to snap out of it, to remember who I was before I became like this.

I just want something genuine. Something serious. Someone who won’t leave, someone who won’t turn me into a question. I’m not a kid anymore to be playing games with feelings. I can’t keep getting hurt over and over again, keep explaining myself, keep waiting for someone who was never really sure of me in the first place.

Where can I even find a love that’s stable and true? Does it even exist anymore? Or am I the only one still believing? I’m getting tired of hoping, but I can’t stop dreaming either. Because no matter the pain, no matter the exhaustion, a part of me still believes that a love that’s real will come. The kind of love I won’t have to chase. One that will choose me, every single day. A love that won’t fill me with questions about myself, but will remind me of my worth.

But then, as I sit with these thoughts, I realize something. Maybe the love I’ve been waiting for isn’t something I need to find outside of myself.

Maybe I don’t need to wait for that love to come from someone else. Because right now, I can choose to love myself. I am whole, not because someone else loved me, but because I’ve chosen to love myself.

It’s not about being perfect, or having all the answers. It’s about accepting myself, even the broken parts, and allowing them to heal over time. Slowly, I’ve pieced myself back together — not because someone else gave me the pieces, but because I found the strength to do it myself.

But even as I’ve realized that my worth doesn’t come from another person, I still dream of finding someone to share a lifetime with — someone whose love is deep and unwavering, not based on fleeting moments or empty promises. I want to find a man who has values, who stands for something meaningful — someone who is kind, respectful, and always strives to be the best version of himself. Not because he feels he has to be perfect for me, but because he genuinely wants to grow, for himself and for the relationship. A man who is rooted in principles, yet humble enough to acknowledge his flaws and work on them.

I don’t need a perfect man. But I want someone who will show up, day after day, with honesty and integrity — someone who, even through struggles, will choose to love me, will choose to work with me toward a shared future. Someone who understands the importance of patience, of building a life together brick by brick, without rushing or pretending to be something he's not.

I am overflowing with love now — for myself, for the people who are true in my life, and for a world that, despite its chaos, still gives me hope. I may not have the kind of love I’ve been dreaming of right now, but I know I’m ready for it. I’m no longer searching because I’m incomplete. I’m searching because I have so much love to give, from a heart that’s already whole.

And when that person finally comes — the right one — I won’t be a half waiting to be completed. I’ll be a whole person, who already knows how to choose myself, and who also has space left to love someone truly.

[spicywhenspeaking]

If I'm There: Chapter Twelve

read from the start

summary: Noah and Natalie meet in high school and developed a relationship through their love of music and art. Falling in love, innocent and young, they think nothing can keep them apart. However, sometimes in the pursuit of your dreams the things we love the most get left behind.

warnings : mentions of alcohol abuse. this story contains mature themes, minors do not interact.

taglist : @lma1986 @cookiesupplier @notingridslurkaccount @blackveilomens @thisbicc @thebadchic

It's the first Saturday in a while that I don’t have work and all I want to do is watch movies and rot in my bed. I decide to wait to talk to Noah about the voicemail, I don't want to think the worst It doesn’t stop the feelings from festering but I’m trying to be mature.

 I head downstairs to grab something to eat for breakfast and I see a letter on the kitchen counter addressed to me. It’s from the scholarship fund I applied for last year. 

Dear Miss Howlston, 

We regret to inform you that we are unable to process your application due to it being incomplete. You are therefore ineligible for the McGovern Scholarship Fund……

My breathing goes rapid as I read the words. Inside is the application I sent in. I flip to the end page, tears welling into my eyes and blurring my vision, and see the highlighted section where my Mom was supposed to sign. It is empty. I asked her over and over and over. I even sat in front of her with a pen but she was too preoccupied with opening her next bottle of wine to pay any attention. I should have just forged it. Why didn’t I forge it?!

“What the fuck.” I whimper out as heavy tears fall like raindrops.

“What the fuck!” I repeat. My limit has been reached. I cannot hold it in anymore.

I crumple the paper, forgetting the bowl of cereal I prepared on the counter, and run upstairs as sobs begin to wrack my body. I get to my room, slam the door, and dive head-first into my pillows as another sob leaves my mouth. I grab my phone and try Noah’s cell, the feelings of jealousy are pushed away for the moment, I just need to talk to him. 

Ring ring ring ring *click* “Hey Natty! It’s Nick, sorry Noah just ran out with Alex to grab everyone coffees. I guess he forgot his phone, what's up?”

 A teenage girl can only handle so much in so little time, I cannot handle this. One hit after the next and now when I need Noah, just to hear him and talk to him he's with some other girl he didn't even tell me about. “Nick, I-” I pause. “Just forget I called. I’ll talk to you later.” I say and as I press the red end-call button I hear Nick's “Wait, Nat-” click. 

The emotions I’m feeling are in an epic battle for dominance. The sadness and anger I feel towards my Mom, the loneliness and heartache I feel towards Noah. Is this life with him? Just waiting and hoping I hear from him. I should have told him how I felt about it before now, now I’m upset. I’m angry. I lay back against the pillows as fresh tears fall onto my cheeks and I hear a soft knock at my door.

“What?” I call out. 

“Um, can I come in?’ Kyle asks softly.

“Sure.” I roll away from the door so my back is facing him as he opens up and takes a step inside. 

“So I saw the letter in the kitchen,” he says and walks towards the bed. I feel it dip as he takes a seat on the corner. “I’m so sorry Nat.”

The tears fall harder and he places his hand gently on my shoulder and squeezes. 

“It was the biggest one” sob “I ca-can’t afford the sc-schools I applied to without it.” I wipe the tears from my eyes. “The money I’ve saved from work is supposed to go towards moving and housing. Fuck. Why did I think art school was a good idea? What was I thinking? I’ll be stuck here for the rest of my life while everyone else is off living their dreams.” I know I’m being melodramatic but I don’t care. 

“I have some money saved from working with Dad this summer,” Kyle tells me in a soft voice. “you could have it for school.”

I turn around, surprised at his offer. “Kyle. I couldn't accept that. You earned that working for Dad, having probably a horrible summer.” He laughs at my comment.

My phone lights up with Noah's contact photo. I stare at it for a few moments before hitting the end call button sending him to voicemail. 

A few seconds later its ringing again and I reject the call and turn off my phone. I just can’t talk to him right now. 

“Um, is everything alright?” Kyle asks awkwardly after noticing me decline Noah’s calls.

“Yeah…well. Sort of? Not really. It’s complicated. I need to talk to him but I don’t want to right now. It’s.-” I look at Kyle and he has an unnatural look of concern on his face. “I know you don't want to hear about my relationship drama. You said so yourself.” 

A look of shame crosses his face. “I was an asshole, in more ways the one and I’m sorry for saying that. You can talk to me about anything Nat.” I sniffle as more tears continue falling. “I appreciate that Ky, I really do. I just don’t want to think about this thing with Noah and this scholarship thing, you know I didn’t even get to apply for financial aid because Mom didn't give me her proof of income. I’m totally screwed.” I wish I could call her. Yell at her for ruining my future. Scream at her for being so selfish, for being sick, for making Kyle and I take care of ourselves for so long. “I can apply for student loans I guess,” I mumble out, the last thing I wanted to do was build a mountain of debt. “Ugh, I don't want to think about it anymore.”

“Do you want to watch a movie or something?” Kyle asks.

Sitting up in bed I wipe the remaining tears from my face. I know my eyes must be puffy and red but with a small smile on my face I agree to the movie. “As long as it's horror, no lovey stuff right now. Just blood and guts.” Kyle laughs, “deal” 

We go downstairs and decide to watch “Sinister.” It offers an escape from my current thoughts and after watching Kyle tells me he’s ordering a pizza for dinner. Dad texted that he’s staying at his house near his job site since he has an early morning, not much of a surprise. 

When I get into my room I turn my phone back on and see I have some missed texts from Noah.

Noah: hey Natty :) Nick said you called, you ok? 1:20pm

Noah: Sorry I didn't call last night, the show ended late and we all stayed up until like 4am. 1:20pm

Noah: Natty? Everything okay? 1:35pm

Noah: call me when you get a chance, I miss the sound of your voice. 2:26pm

I stare at the messages. “Everything okay”  I repeat in an annoyed voice. “No, everything isnt okay. My future is fucked and I have no plan.” I say to myself.

I take a deep calming breath and call Noah. 

Ring ring- *click* “Natty! I’m so glad you called. I miss you so much.” Noahs voice is light and happy and I just wish he was here. Two weeks between tests or projects goes by with lightning speed, two weeks without Noah moves at a glacial pace.

“Hey Noah.” My voice is soft and I have to clear my throat to break through the tightness forming. “I miss you too.” 

“I’m sorry I didn’t call last night,” but you did call, you just didnt know. “We didnt leave the venue until like midnight, it was wild. So much fun, I wish you were here.” 

“Yeah, sounds like you guys were having a really great time.” I’m trying to hide the emotions in my voice, just wanting to hear him and pretend nothing is wrong, but that can’t last forever. 

“Is everything alright Nat? You sound…weird, not weird but..you don't sound like yourself.” Noah says. 

Fuck, so much for hiding my emotions. “um I just got some news from my scholarship application today that was upsetting, and last night -” I try but Noah’s voice cuts me off. 

“Was it less than you expected?” He asks. 

“They denied me the scholarship and last ni-.” Noah cuts me off again. 

“What??!” Noah almost shrieked and I had to pull the phone from my ear. “Denied? With your grades? And you got first place in the last youth art contest last month, how could they deny you? When did you find out?”

“Um yeah, it's because my mom didn't sign something, I didn't realize it was sent in without it. I feel like such an idiot.” I mutter out defeated.

“Fuck, Natty. That sucks. Did something else happen? You called this morning and then just disappeared.” Noah questions.

“Well yeah, you did call me last night Noah.I guess you pocket-dialed me.” I tell him. “You were talking to some girl and she was asking you about the next leg of this tour. She was saying how much she’d miss you if didn’t go with them.” 

“Oh. Shit.” he breathes. “I’m sorry about that. It’s just Alex from the band we're opening for on the tour, she doesn't mean it like anything.”

“But you said maybe.” my voice is small.

“Well I have to consider it..Nat. it's a huge opportunity. You understand that right?” He sounds exasperated, like wondering how I could be opposed. 

“And school? What about that?” I ask, with more edge in my voice than I meant.

“Alex dropped out and her band is getting huge, I don’t need a high school diploma to make my dreams come true,” he responded with a slight sting in defense. 

“Oh, and whatever Alex says goes huh? You're just dropping out?” And now I’m getting angry, the festering feelings that disappeared with the movie are returning with white-hot intensity. “You were with her last night after you said you’d try and call me and then this morning I got that letter that absolutely destroys my future and when I call Nick answers and you are busy again with her..” I bite out.

“What are you implying?” he asks.

“I’m not impling anything, I tired to call. You were busy. Thats a fact.” I bite back.

“I’m sorry Natty, but nothing happened on the trip, with Alex if that's what you're thinking,” he says. “This kind of exposure is exactly what I’ve been working for. I thought you would be excited for me? I thought you believed in me?” Now his voice is small, like he’s genuinely upset and I feel sick that I’m the one that would have caused it. 

“I don't think anything happened. I trust you, Noah. I'm just going through a lot right now. I hung up on Nick because I was upset and then I didn't return your texts because I was still upset. With you, with my mom just about everything. I needed you.” I take a deep breath before continuing. “Of course, I believe in you Noah, but I mean you're talking about just leaving school? We're seniors, so close to graduating already why throw it all away when you're so close.

“If I don't take this chance now I'll be throwing away this dream, there's no guarantee I'll get this opportunity again.” 

“So what? Do you want me to just sit around and wait for you to call? I mean that is if you call?” I ask him. 

“Why is this a fight? I thought you'd be happy for me?” Noah’s voice is rising with frustration.

“It’s not a fight Noah, I just thought you’d take the time to at least talk about it with me about it first. I mean you talk all the time about our futures like you want them to be together but you’re making these huge decisions and not even telling me about it first.” I try to keep my voice steady but I know it's wobbling a little.

“I haven’t even decided yet, you’re talking like I’m doing this to hurt you. I am thinking about our future Natty, you could alway come with me?” He says and I scoff. 

“You’re not serious, are you? I could graduate early but not until the spring and after all the work I’ve done with my GPA. You’d ask me to just drop out?” I ask.

“You’d ask me to say no to this opportunity?” Noah questions in response. 

“You know what Noah? I think we should just talk about this when you get home. I have a lot of homework that I need to work on and this is just too much right now on top of everything else.” I tell him in a defeated voice. 

“I’m sorry Natty, I love you. I didn’t want to talk about it like this. I can’t stand you being sad because of me.” 

“I love you too Noah, It'll be okay. Let's just talk later okay?" 

We finish our goodbyes and I toss my phone back on the bed and take the homework out of my backpack.

The rest of the week is slow. School and work are uneventful. Noah and I barely text and it feels awful, what happened? It was great for months and he leaves for two weeks and falls apart? Is our relationship that fragile? 

Friday I’m working behind the counter while a jazz trio plays for the night as our live musical guests. I don’t hate it, I guess. Noah is supposed to get in tonight but we didn't really make plans, I’m not sure if I’ll see him. I’m busy checking the syrups and making sure all of the milk options are full in the fridge when I hear someone clear their throat behind me.

I turn around and like just the thought of him caused him to appear Noah is standing in front of me. 

“Hey Natty”

Next chapter here!!!! Thank you besties!!!!!!

divider from here!

[peachycheekz]

Come What May Creator's Challenge #1

I'm always looking for fun little challenges I can use to improve my writing and this seemed really cute! (Also fighting my fear of being perceived in any way, shape or form by actually posting instead of hoarding all my wips like a dragon hoarding a huge pile of shit)

May 1st, Bloom/Burn a/n: I chose Bloom as the word to write something for and about halfway through planning something so tooth-rottingly sweet I was two seconds away from throwing up butterflies, I decided to do a complete 180 and make myself miserable instead. Bucky's going through it in this one, I fear. CW: Angst, Grief, Mentions of death WC: 704

read on ao3 next

𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛

“Why don’t you just get rid of the thing?” Sam asked Bucky as he caught the man brooding over Steve’s old sketchbook again. “Every time you pull it out you fall deeper into this hole and I'm afraid one of these days I won't get you out anymore,” he added quietly, leaning over his shoulder to get a better look.

Bucky stayed silent, turning over a page. His thumb traced the intricate outlines of his own face. One of the first detailed sketches Steve had made in the little book was the one of Bucky’s picture in his army file. The blonde had always had a knack for capturing the beauty in broken things.

“I can’t,” Bucky rasped, throat constricting as he turned yet another page. A side profile of him. He remembered that day, the memory tearing apart what was left of his soul now. A cool breeze in the unrelenting summer heat, soft lips on his neck, happiness.

Why did Steve leave him? Why was he never enough?

Another page.

A wonky stick figure, Bucky's own signature at the bottom. A sharp pain shot through his heart. He'd never been capable of creating nice things, good things. Not like Steve had been.

The little sketchbook was one of the few things he had left of the only man he'd ever truly loved. One of the only physical reminders that he had been a real person. That Bucky still was a real person.

The way in which Steve had understood the world and told his view of it with just a pencil was a testament to the man he had been. The man Bucky missed so desperately it threatened to tear him apart. 

“I just…can’t,” he repeated, voice just above a whisper. “I can’t let go.”

He gripped the edges of the sketchbook a little tighter as if afraid Sam might snatch it away from him, for his own good. Swallowing the sob clawing its way up his throat back down, he stared down at the next sketch, vision blurry with unshed tears. Bucky was a recurring theme in Steve's art and he always seemed to put a little more effort into these sketches, perfectly breathing life onto an empty page with a few skilled strokes of his pencil.

Just like he had made Bucky feel more alive with a simple smile, a touch, a few words.

And then Steve left him behind, taking all the life with him.

A few tears managed to slip his eyes, rolling down his unshaven face and smudging a flawlessly rendered sketch of an anatomic heart. 

Without him he felt like the now ruined drawing looked. Incomplete. Tainted. 

“I don’t want to let go.”

But he had to. It had just taken a while for him to admit it to himself. It wasn't fair to Sam, who was trying so hard not to let him drown in his own sorrow, to cling to the past like that, wasn't fair to him. Steve would never come back, he'd never hear the bright sound of his laugh again, nor see his eyes crinkle. No more stolen kisses late at night, no more early morning pancakes. Never again.

Bucky tried to breathe through the ache holding his chest in a vice like grip, he couldn't see the path in front of him through the tears blurring his vision. Muscle memory led him the right way, he'd been here so often the way was ingrained into his mind. Steve's sketchbook felt like it weighed a ton in the inside of his leather jacket. The marble of Steve's gravestone was cool to the touch.

Till the end of the line. He followed the slight indentation of the engraving with a metal finger. "You promised."

Brushing away a few of the wilted petals of the last flowers he'd brought him - a bouquet of pink camellia, purple hyacinth and red chrysanthemum, back then freshly blossomed - Bucky knelt, knees digging into the frozen earth. "But I made a promise, too."

Even though it felt like betrayal, like burying the last piece of himself, Bucky gave the collection of drawings of the world through Steve's eyes back to the man it belonged to.

It had never been his in the first place and it was time for a change in perspective.

[bitch-its-sleeping-beauty]

Being at home with my family for the last week has me spiraling back into the same depression that I felt when I lived in San Francisco. All the things I was enjoying doing at Cody’s is gone. Everyday the idea of getting up and doing something seems so much harder. And the love for things I used to enjoy are gone again. All I’ve been saying everyday to Cody is that I want to come back. Everyday I’m still here. The idea of hurting my family’s feelings again stung. But now the feeling of all the light in my life is gone once again feels much worse than worrying about others feelings. I’ve fallen into the same deep sadness I endured on an everyday basis back in San Francisco. It consumes me and leaves me with nothing. All I do is want to go back and enjoy cooking and baking and all the things I was enjoying. Things weren’t perfect over there either. I did get sad but sad in a different way. This time it’s a feeling like I felt again where all the happiness had left the world, my heart and my mind. Even the small things and chores gave me structure and a sense of accomplishment I do not feel anymore. I feel numb. Sad. Incomplete. No light. No love. Nothing. Just empty.

[reddogf13]

Outlast 2: Deliverance CH 10

Also on A03

Status: Incomplete

Rated: M - Dead Dove Do Not Eat This takes place in the Outlast 2 universe after all.

Previous chap: CH: 9 Uhtceare

Next chap: CH: 11 Dysania

________________

~Ch: 10 Sleight~

Blake rushed with James to the barn. Record book in hand to chart down the damage done to their supplies. “How much was taken?” He wheezed along the way.

“Five rations worth.”

“That's it?” Compared to what he feared, the whole barn emptied, five wasn't bad. “That's not much.”

James gave a snappy tone in mistaking Blake's for lacking concern. “No, but it will be if it keeps happening.”

“Oh, no, I know it will be. But why not more? Only five rations worth? Why not make off with at least a quarter of the barn?”

“Couldn't carry that much? Afraid they'd get caught takin' too long? Who knows with heretics.”

“They're not heretics, they're just people trying to survive.”

“Thieves then. Who need to be dealt with. Stealing food is a hangin' offense.” Opening the doors for Blake to inspect inside. Pointing out the various things missing. “Jerky, pickled vegetables-”

“A few bags of fresh stuff.” Blake marked down. “You sure the kitchen staff didn't take it?”

“Positive, all's accounted for there. Nothin' extra in the kitchen.”

“Help me gather the rest of the lords. We're having an emergency meeting.” Things were going by so fast it took him a moment to gather himself in the middle of the meeting. Arguing had shot off on what to do about the heretics. Turning to topics Blake wasn't approving. “We're not killing them!” He shouted.

“We have to!” Liam shouted back.

Supported by James. “We should've dealt with 'em a long time ago. They think they can take whatever they want. This is just them testin' the boundaries I bet. If we don't act, they'll walk all over us. Stealin' more, if not everythin', next time.”

“And what after that? Right now it's food, but after they get stronger? What if they go after people like before? Picking us off who step past what rusted fences we have left?”

“Should have left those up.”

“NO!” Blake slammed a fist. “They stole food because they want to live like the rest of us. They could've taken a whole lot more than five rations. Could've taken half the barn in the night, but they didn't. They used restraint in how much they took. They're not heretics. They're survivors that escaped Knoth's iron fist and had no direction to go. Or any sort of outside help that could've led them to safety. I'm not going to be the one who executes them after fighting so hard for survival.” He looked at the others at the table. John looked like he wanted to say something, but shrunk from the table over all the yelling. Mathew looked about the same in the crumbling discussion.

Liam huffed. “Still, something has to be done. If you don't then the rest of us will.”

Marta crushing anymore thought of that. “Step out of line and see what happens.”

“Marta.” Blake warned in name. She gave him a glance then looked away, mumbling verses again. He didn't want her shutting things down, even if they weren't in his favor. That would only breed fear and hatred toward him and keep people silent instead of expressing their problems. “Me and Marta will discuss what to do. I won't kill them, but I won't let them keep stealing from us. The rest of you can leave until I think of something.” Waiting until the hall was cleared.

“Should we kill them now?”

“... No…” If I don't make Val a target, then maybe I won't make myself one

“Should we capture them?”

“No…”

“You wish to leave them?”

“If I could-” Locking up at the thought of taming Val, being caught and taken to the jail. Surely her followers would attempt to break her out. The overhanging fear of if she'd escape in the night. He'd be the grand trophy soon as she got out. Waking to the screams of people her and her followers slaughtered. He'd desperately run to hide in some far off corner. They'd search every crevice until they found him. The sounds of her steps approaching. Her voice coaxing him to come out. When he'd come face to face with her again forcing him down. Covered in muck and blood like down in the mines.

“Blake?” Marta's voice pulled him out of it. “You look ill.”

“Ugh, stress is all.” Swallowing his stomach. “I- ...” God, what do I do? I can't tame Val like she's some feral animal. Do I have to chain her up like one? Need to stop thinking of her like that. She can talk, she's a human being, she's not dumb. Feeling sick he hung his head low. I can't talk to her. She won't dare talk with Marta. Is there- ! His head shot up. “I need a diplomat.”

“Why not speak to her yourself? We know where they are. I can crack her if she takes a chance at you.”

“If I get her under control with a diplomat then as long as she follows the rules.” A nervous laugh escaped him. “Everything will be fine.”

The look he got from Marta showed her doubts. Her tone one that Blake hadn't heard in a long time. “She's a lustful demon who brings misery.” Oozing a viscous hatred toward the one she spoke of. “When her thirst for blood returns. She'll use you to fill her cup first.”

“... Do you want to… ?” In every other case she didn't have the spirit without Knoth's reassuring preaching. When it came to Val however...

“... I was always behind her, even under Knoth and she knew it well.” Her hatred filled gaze locked onto the table. “My faith was imperfect after all. When she fled I was given the task to crush her. To prove how unfaltering my faith was… All I could hear was her unending mockery outside Temple Gate, for months. Always behind... I knew one day I'd get my hands on her and she wouldn't receive an ounce of mercy. No matter how she begged or what pleas to God she'd scream. She knows it, and dares not tempt me whilst in reach.” Her eyes rose back to him. “… If I asked you, would you order me to kill Val?”

“No... Do you think I'm wrong to spare Val? Am I too soft?” Doubting himself on handling the situation.

“No. You have not led me astray yet, angel. You have kept your promise, even if I'm not joyful about it this time, for that I will always trust your lead.”

He smiled. “Thank you.”

“Who will be your diplomat?”

“I don't know… Has to be whoever's inside at least. They've lived within Temple Gate, but Val must trust them a lot.”

“How shall we catch them then? They've been slippin' through our grip for days now anytime one of us nears.”

“We need to draw them out a bit. First is solving the theft problem, which will help with the other. Lock it up tight for a few days then leave it unlocked with a trap set.”

“That seems too obvious.”

“Yes, but we'll starve them into it. if they're that hard for food they'll chance it even if they know full well what it is.”

“What if Val calls in a large group to raid the whole barn? She could send in someone from the outside instead of risking those closer.”

“A huge group like that managing it through the main of Temple Gate? And out again carrying huge loads of food. I don't think she could pull that off with the roaming guard. You can see the storage barn clear from your place already.”

“Are we going to ambush them?”

“No, this will be a lot more subtle. I know banks on the outside have explosive dye packs that stain the skin. Robbers accidentally dye themselves from the trap which leads police right to them. We look for anyone who didn't show for work. Or those suddenly wearing gloves. Check their hands and we'll know immediately. I could set something up like a dye without the bursting part.”

“Out of what?”

“Pen ink for one, a lot of it. I'll need to mix it with something to keep it from drying away. Then I only need a way to spread it on the thief in the act.”

“How long 'till we set this?”

“Three days if I figure it out before then. Just long enough to force their hand before starving. In the meantime keep watching that skittish. Maybe we'll find out more as they get desperate.”

“Let's say you do get 'em marked. What if they run? We'll be outta food and your diplomat.”

“You'll be watching. I know you can catch them. Don't hurt them though.”

Having the foundation for a plan, Blake called back James and Liam. Setting out an order to gather up every lockable cabinet or chest. All food would be locked away in each aside from another lock on the barn doors. James was to watch everyone going into the barn and make sure nothing was taken without permission. Blake promised them both he had more planned, but couldn't say. And that the locks were a small measure for now to set things up. When that was said and done he went to the privacy of his room to experiment with ink and various liquids. Mixing some drops into dish soap, cooking oil, and whatever else he found in the grand hall cabinets. His experiments not delivering a satisfactory mixture that would last. He had patches of dots covering his skin that were coming off far too easily. Half were gone from all the scrub tests he was doing.

What's so annoying to remove from skin? Remembering the time he ate a pomegranate that stained his hands red for a couple days. He went out to raid the kitchen for any fruit. Finding jars of jam to be his only option he grabbed one made of black berry's. His next experimental mixture proved itself to be quite the winner. It would keep the ink alive while providing its own dreadful stain age. The annoying stickiness would provide a small bonus of annoying the thieves causing problems. He stored away his supplies for the future, wrapped in a rugged cloth that would complete the trap. It would be what delivered the dye onto the unsuspecting thieves. Dropping the cloth down might miss or not stain enough. It has to be grabbed for some reason. Wrap up a bunch of supplies they have to unravel? Trunk would be best for that, but what if they just pick it up? Double checking any failures that could occur. The barn's new security measures had prevented anymore theft. Keeping to schedule on setting the trap on the next day. No one knew exactly what the trap was. The most James knew was that they'd “accidentally” leave the barn unlocked at the end of day. In his room Blake was mixing up his sticky dye into the ragged cloth. Wearing gloves the entire time he sloshed the bucket around. The cloth itself was permanently dyed by this point.

Next day he went out, holding his record book in one hand and covered dye bucket in the other. With Marta going one way and him heading for the barn to finalize the trap. Meeting up with James as if following the usual record taking schedule.

“What are we doing?” James asked as he followed Blake into the barn.

He pulled out one locked chest to open. “We're going to take out the jars in this chest, fill it with rocks, put jars back and layer them up into this cloth wet with dye. Set it back and keep it open, everything else stays locked. When whoever comes in to steal they'll pick what's easiest to get to. They can't lift it with the added rocks so they'll have to rummage for the jars. Try to unwrap them and get dye all over their hands. With how sticky it is they might make it worse by trying to wipe it off on their clothes. They'll be covered in dye by the time they leave and anyone else who touches the jars.” He explained while helped by James emptying the chest. Large slabs of stone set as evenly as possible at the bottom. Slipping back on the gloves Blake went to cautiously fold the fabric in. James layering jars between the winding over and under folds. Anybody wanting to grab jars had to slip away the cloth or risk yanking out jars that would break.

“You know, we're basically giving this food to them.” James grunted as they moved the chest. It took extreme effort to shove it back into place. Even Marta would struggle to drag it out. A few carrying it into the rugged forest would be impossible.

“I know, at this point it's allowed. I don't want to starve them to death. Hopefully after this we can set up rationing for them too.” Grabbing the jars was what the trap hinged on to tag any thieves. A loss Blake took as natural to help feed those starving.

“You want to feed them? Why, they haven't done any work to earn it?!”

“I want to make a line of communication with them. If we can work something out then we won't have to fear them any more and they get the help they need.”

“We could just get rid of 'em. Solves our problems and they don't get to eat for free.”

“No. I'm going to help them as much as I helped everyone else.”

“You better hope they don't stab you in the back.” James warned on their way to dinner. Barn door left cracked open to bait who came by.

Blake skipped out on eating. Unable to sleep that night under all the anxiety for tomorrow morning. Carving little figures again of wolves and bears to calm his nerves. When the morning light pooled under his door he left his room to meet the lords. Noticing right away that one was missing. “Where's John?”

Mathew was quick to answer. “He's sick, s-said he might be around later.”

“… Anything important he wanted to tell me?”

“No.” Unblinking without daring a glance away from Blake's stare.

Marta jumped on before Blake could reply. “You seen anyone strange around the hunting party? Skulking around that could be spyin' for Val?”

“N-no, I don't really stay with my dad m-much after workin' the hospital.” Ignoring the fact that Marta was aggressively glaring him down. “Should I be looking? I ain't very good at spotting people. I don't think i-id know.” Shaking under the pressure.

“Okay!” Blake stopped them. “… James, anything new?”

“More foods been stolen.”

Feigning surprise. “Shit, how'd that happen?”

“I think someone accidentally left the doors unlocked.”

“Well, we better double check and record what's gone. Anything important from the rest of you?” Receiving many head shakes. “Alright, dismissed. James, we'll meet you at the barn. Marta, and I need to discuss some things.” Waiting until they were alone to discuss the current unveiling. Marta's aggression unfolding in wanting to grab others she thought were traitors. “Johns a filthy traitor. Saw him fleein' the barn last night. Didn't bother to chase the snake after he headed right home. Think he expects to get the dye off before we notice. Should I interrogate Mathew?”

“See anyone else?” rubbing the bridge of his nose.

“Your second shadow. I chased them, but lost ‘em down one of the alley ways.”

“Great, we'll both go talk to John, but only after we investigate the barn.”

“We should grab him now.”

“He won't want to risk his kid. Keep an eye on Mathew, but wait 'till I say.”

She mumbled a chain of frustrated verses. “As the angel asks, but that boy knows more than he lets on.”

“How do you know?”

“You can read anyone like a book if you watch 'em close enough. Even with your poor sight.”

“Hooow?”

“Each persons different. John's shoulders tense up too much when caught in a lie. Deeper you dig the more uncomfortable he gets. Starts shifting them like he slept on 'em wrong. Mathew gets too bold a stare tryin' to spare himself of guilt. Stumbling over his words like a drunk, with piled up words to buy him time to spin a story.”

“Mm, I'll take note of that.”

“He knows somethin' about that kill in the hall.”

“Do you think he did it?”

“No, not sure where his hand in it was. He did more than run right home, I'm sure of that.”

“Hm.” Save his interrogation for later. “After we interrogate John, I want you to look for anyone else who could be tagged. Then we'll look into Mathew.” Walking them out to the barn where they saw the crime scene inside. Chest shuffled from its last position, but not far. Fabric tossed aside to dye the floor. Chest covered in dark hand prints from being handled so much. All the jars filling it were long gone. “Someones definitely tagged. Me and Marta are going to visit a few we think are involved. For today, pay attention to anyone missing, look for anyone with dye on their hands or those trying to suddenly stay covered.” He told James, on the way out with Marta leading the way to johns. Blake approached the front door to knock.

John answered, partly hiding behind the door. “Sir?”

“Heard you were sick. You okay?”

His voice jitterly assured. “Oh, I'm fine.” Rubbing a shoulder with a gloved hand. “Nothing serious, must be a cold.”

“Why are you wearing gloves?”

“Oh, uh, blisters. From work” Shifting his shoulders. “The cold air doesn't help them feel any better.”

“Oh, I can help those. Let me see.”

“No need. It's not that serious. I think I'll go back to bed now. This cold-”

Marta shoved her way inside. “Sit down.” She ordered with a point to his small dining table. Scaring John into following orders. She loomed over him where he sat while Blake sat down across from him.

Blake ordered, “Let me see your hands.” Instead of asking this time.

John rubbed them together as he glanced around for some way out of this situation. Unable to run while under Marta's watch and unable to talk his way out. He slipped the gloves off to reveal skin covered by that dark reddish dye.

Blake sighed at the sight. “Stand up, we need to go talk.”

John went pale. “I know what I did was serious.” Pleading before anything else was said. “It was all me sir, please don't drag my boy into this. Don't lock him up, I swear-”

“John.” The furious look he shot him shut him up immediately. This whole time Blake had to deal with so much anxiety. That all washed away to a burning anger. “Do you realize how much shit I've been dealing with? You've been stealing food and I had to stop the hunts.” John sat in silence. Blake let out his anger in a frustrated breath. “This is serious. We need a long talk someplace private. Don't cause a scene on the way or you'll make things worse.” Getting him up to head out. Marta aggressively followed him the entire way. They stepped down into the jail where they entered a small side room. Marta stood by the door while Blake and John sat at a table.

Where to begin? Blake thought. “You need to answer honestly or else I can't help anyone here. Right now, you and your son could be jailed or banished out of Temple Gate if you refuse to cooperate.” Seeing John swallow at the threat. He took a deep breath to start the questioning. “Why were you stealing food?” He knew the answer, but this was to get confirmation from John as well as something easy to answer.

“Help feed everyone. It was easier with the foraging still high, but with everything dead 'till spring. Hunting was all that was left. They couldn't catch enough.”

“So you set up the hunting party to be robbed?”

“Yes, The meat never lasted. They were starving even before Knoth's death, over half were sick or too injured to help. Their situation never improved after. Had no supplies to farm, barely a shelter or anything to survive on like Temple Gate has.”

“What else have you given them?”

“Only medication on the day you handed it out.”

“Did you set me up when we first headed for town? You didn't want me bringing Marta along.”

“NO! No, no!” He adamantly denied. Shrinking in his chair as if Marta would bash his skull in any moment now. “We were scared of what Marta would do if she found us. They had no ways to defend themselves. If I was leading, You pass by without Marta and they don't get anymore danger over their heads. When the mudslide hit I convinced James and Jacob to split up. Either they found you or Val would after I asked her for help.”

“Then why was I almost killed?!”

“That wasn't supposed to happen. Val didn't want that, It was Ayzel who did it. He still has a bone to pick with Temple Gate. Val was furious when she caught him and worried Temple Gate would come after us for harming you. The plan from there was to take you to the caves and make sure you were okay. I would've been “caught” to give you support until then. After you were better enough we would have “escaped”. That never happened after you ran. At that point nothing mattered. We were past the caves, Marta was there and she wasn't going to leave after that.”

“So Val's not after me?”

“No, she's not after anyone. Her goal matches yours - keep everyone alive. She's been struggling to keep the clan on their feet.”

“A while ago we caught her and a random member of hers wandering some rotten area. The area south east, close to the cave. She was standing by until we let that one go. What was that about?”

“She'd mention a few times about worrying what Temple Gate was planning. Wanting to keep post at night to feel assured that no attack was coming. One talk we had I noticed she wasn't as paranoid as before. Sounds like what you did helped.”

“Great, is Mathew helping her too?”

“... Yes, but not nearly as much as me. If we were caught I didn't want him blamed. Please don't exile him for this. Please.”

“I won't if you help me with Val.”

John froze at what that could mean. “I- how?”

“I want to make you a diplomat. You'll pass messages between me and Val on how to handle issues between us. I can help them, but they're some conditions. She can't keep stealing food, that has to stop or else. If she agrees to that I'll give them rations, but I need to know the exact number of how many of you there are.” I'll also know officially how many of them there are against us.

“I-I don't know if I-”

“If you can't convince her to agree, then don't bother coming back.” His fierce gaze pierced John's soul. “Stealing food is serious and I won't allow you to stay here. Forcing me to worry about what you'll do next. Putting everyone at risk. Your son can stay, but he'll be demoted and watched more carefully. I'm going to let you go today. Starting now, you have three days to work it out with her or leave. Got that?”

“Yes sir.”

[justminawrites]

there are no synonyms for half

AO3

Summary: For as long as Luka Couffaine could remember, he was a half. It was only when he turned fifteen, watching the dying sun set over the Seine, did he realise that the other half of him had only ever been other people’s secrets.

For as long as Luka Couffaine could remember, he was a half of something. 

It came with the territory of being a twin, his mother would tell him as much, but Luka’s melody sounded empty in a way Juleka’s never was. Every birthday, every anniversary, every time a neighbour cooed and fussed over how much of Anarka’s face her children had inherited, however infrequent that was. A houseboat rarely had anything resembling a neighbourhood, after all. 

‘Ma.. why didn’t Dad want us? 

At five, Luka had somehow gotten it into his head that his incompletion lied in the absence of a parent. His missing notes were hidden in the ever elusive tune of who his father was, and once his mother told him, he’d finally be able to complete his song. Anarka Couffaine only huffed in disbelief and switched off the Jagged Stone TV Special he’d been watching. 

Yer father was a real scallywag! Luka looked down at the acoustic guitar he’d held closer than any stuffed animal, and wondered if he too was half scallywag.

I don’t want to go.

His mother stiffened, one leg out the door of the gilded school gates. Juleka turned around in confusion as he dropped her hand and then slid off his backpack. Unzipping the blue-and-green printed fabric, Luka pulled out the ukulele he’d hidden and held it up triumphantly like it was some sort of prize. 

I want to go to music school. He panicked when Anarka crossed her arms in disbelief, and tried to find the words to promise how he’d learn every instrument and do all of his and Juleka’s chores everyday if she let him. 

Luka was only ten at the time, so he didn’t know how to tell his mother that he believed he was half music, that it was the one thing that made him feel whole. The tunes would echo off of the walls of his heart and fill up the empty parts of him until he could imagine them colliding, overflowing, and finally spilling out of him again.

His mother only sighed, ruffled his hair and picked up the discarded backpack, before turning to leave.

Luka ran after her, leaving his twin behind, a lone ship in the sea of melody. 

Jules, what’s wrong?

Even before Juleka rushed into his arms, her face already crumpled and stained with tears, Luka was half rage. 

She refused to tell him what exactly happened but clutched his fingers tightly all the way back to the Liberty. He could feel the anger bubbling under his skin as he took in her skinned knees and the bluntly chopped ends of hair she’d braided so carefully that very morning. The feeling was so all encompassing that when Anarka took his face in her hands, she pulled away almost immediately, claiming he’d contracted a fever.

Ow..

Luka was half fire the night he pierced his own ears. Juleka looked at him with wide eyes as he ran his bloody fingers under the faucet, and gave her a reassuring smile. Doesn’t it hurt?, she asked him unable to do much more than look at the black studs that would forever adorn his ears. 

Luka didn’t know how to tell her that he could simply pour whatever pain was left into the empty parts of himself until it fell so far down that he didn’t hear it anymore. So he shook his head instead. 

When he insisted on walking Juleka to François Dupont Elementary the next morning, Anarka sharply took his face in her hands again, so quickly that Luka winced. Her eyes grazed the new, round black dots on his ears that definitely hadn’t been there yesterday and met her son’s defiant blue eyes. Yer not burnin’ up anymore, was all she had to say about the matter.

Is that Juleka’s brother? He looks really scary!

Luka was half pride as he pushed through the crowd of fifth graders that had gathered around him despite themselves, their faces shining with admiration and envy, gold and green. 

It was a mixture of pride and justice, he would realise much later, that made him exaggeratedly stomp his way over to Juleka’s bullies and wave a threatening finger at their ringleader, a blonde Bourgeois who was so startled, she fell backwards into a puddle of sludge. He didn’t say anything but he hardly needed to open his mouth amidst the cruel laughter of forty kids to know his job was done. Relief shone in the corners of his sister’s eyes when she rushed out of school that evening.

Nice to meet you ma-ma-marinette.

Luka was half shame when he saw the girl’s face fall, her dollish blue eyes crinkling with tears. He hadn’t expected to feel something stirring in the empty parts of him when one of Juleka’s friends stumbled into his room, every emotion under the sun flickering on her face, and he’d been just as startled by her presence, as she was by his.

Sorry.. I tend to make more sense with this. 

Luka clutched his guitar closer even though he was the one that asked her to sit beside him, and braced himself. Sure enough, the hollowness inside him steadily filled with the flutter of a thousand beating, insect wings as Marinette carefully acquiesced, the ends of her ballet flats hovering inches above the ground. Ladybug wings. 

For once, it was the outside world that held its breath as Luka’s insides roared with a harmony he didn’t know how to play. He forced himself to remain composed as she blinked her secretive blue eyes up at him, concealing a question and a challenge of her own. 

How do you do that?

He’d hardly strummed a tune, but her face betrayed wonder as his fingers echoed the chords that clanged around in her own empty spaces, whatever he could hear over the clamour of newness in his own heart, anyway. She slipped away in the midst of his explanation, taking the white noise with her, to admire the Jagged Stone poster he’d spent hours gluing down, and the collection of guitar picks right below it. 

The silence in him returned, somehow louder than before now that he knew it could be filled.

You can have it if you like. 

He was beside her before he knew it, eyes glued to the guitar pick between her slender, calloused fingers. Marinette gasped in delight and the flutter-buzz returned, rising a notch, arresting Luka’s heart, as though the ladybugs that had overflowed his empty half had now begun to crawl into his lungs. But there, under all the white noise, when they were standing this close, he could almost taste it– one unmistakable beat, and then another and another; the morse code of her heart song.

You’re a funny girl, Marinette.

He didn’t want to go but Luka was afraid he’d completely lose his wits if he listened to the full force of the ladybug wings any longer. 

It was only when he was halfway up the stairs did he realise there was a lone buzzing bouncing off the walls of the vacant half of his heart. She’d left something behind.

Personally, I think a girl like you deserves to feel more like.. this.

Luka slipped off the deck chair to sit beside Marinette, guitar in hand. 

It had only been a week since they’d met but he’d found himself unable to enjoy sleep in its entirety. The lone ladybug she’d forgotten haunted his nights, humming a tune too faint for him to hear, and he would stay up, straining his ears to grasp a single note, as the light of dawn flooded through the portholes of the ship.

Luka liked the way Marinette always closed her eyes while she listened to him play. He pretended not to notice the slump of her shoulders, as she relaxed into the chords he strummed specially to catch her. He’d long since stopped wondering if people experienced the world the same way he did. He simply brought her peace, in exchange for a bit of her chaos.

And whoever made you feel this way, is nothing but a–

He played a slightly funky tune and she giggled, filling his chest with so much fluttering (an applause of wings) that he hardly dared to open his mouth for fear a ladybug might escape. And then how would he explain himself?

Say, are you free tomorrow..

For her? Luka was free for the rest of his life.

You should probably go over and talk to him.

The cavernous silence returned in the subway. 

Luka was half regret as he shifted on the blue polyester seat, trying his best to stare out of the window, to concentrate on something, anything, besides the bittersweet silence in his lungs. The ladybugs in his chest must’ve frozen to death hours ago, in the skating rink, where he’d watched Marinette watch Adrien with the unwavering focus of a musician bent on mastering an instrument. 

He told himself he didn’t mind, not really. Adrien filled her with wings of her own (butterflies maybe?) and he’d be too busy piecing together his new melody to do the same. It would be best to let her go, now, when the feelings were fresh enough that they’d wilt under the slightest pressure. 

It would be best to forget about the kiss. 

The quick peck. The obligatory press of Marinette’s soft lips to his cheek before she was whisked away, by the wind, by the universe. He breathed out slowly, catching a glimpse of himself on the dark glass of the of the subway car. Oh no. 

It could’ve been from the from the sudden drop in temperature in the skating rink, but the nape of his neck, the tips of his ears, and quite damningly, his cheeks– were a bright, unmistakable scarlet.

The ladybugs had found a new home.

Are ye blushing?

Luka was half mortification when he finally made it home and buried himself under ice packs and blankets, determined to be rid of the crimson flush if it killed him. 

Anarka didn’t need to take his face in her hands this time to know something was bothering him. He watched her quietly slip into his room and rob it of anything with sharp points, before gently closing the door. 

Still no news about the contest?

Luka meant it to be encouraging but when Marinette’s face fell he wished he could take it back immediately. He wished he could take everything back and never say another word again. While the blue-eyed girl fretted about wether her costumes influenced the reception Kitty Section’s audition tape received, he put an arm on her shoulder to stop her train of thought and remind her about the wonders of real-life paperwork. 

She smiled up at him gratefully but before the ladybugs under skin (he still hadn’t managed to get rid of them) sensed this opportunity, Ivan’s outraged yell from across the room, scared them back into hiding.

You’ll never have a future in this business, you’ll never make another costume, because as far as everyone’s concerned– you’ll be the ripoff artists!

Luka was half fury, a cold fire this time, as he watched Bob Roth’s sleazy grin drip with venom as he held Marinette’s hand in his vice-like grip. She shook him off quickly but his words hung in the air like a promise, threatening to choke them both permanently if they didn’t leave immediately like the good little children they were.

Hello Silencer..

He would’ve appreciated the irony if it were any other situation. Hawk moth couldn’t begin to imagine just how much the power of silence was befitting of someone like him. Luka put on the akumatised mask obediently as the supervillain’s monologue came to an end. 

He stopped fighting the darkness and for a while, Luka was half nothing.

Did you really mean those things you said when you were akumatised?

Luka knit his eyebrows in frustration, wracking his memory for some kind of indication of what he could’ve said to fluster Marinette so much. Had he said something about the ice-rink? Had he said something about the kiss? 

He took a deep breath and decided it was time for the speech he’d rehearsed over and over again in front of the mirror, since he’d returned from their not-date weeks ago. Clear as a musical note, Sincere as a melody, Luka couldn’t tear his gaze away from the pools of blue in her eyes, even as he had the sinking sensation that he’d already passed the threshold of no return. 

Luckily, the lights were so erratic, he was sure she couldn’t see the ladybugs huddled beneath his mask, but the buzzing was deafening, pop rocks in the back of his throat, leaving him so light-headed he’d promptly run from Marinette before she could figure out how to respond.

He hoped he hadn’t ruined everything by telling her.

Luka Couffaine, this is the Miraculous of the Snake.

He was half fear when The Hero of Paris held out a palm sized miracle box in her red and black-spotted hand. 

The emptiness in him leaned into the idea of using the superhero persona to fill the void but the other part of him, the only part of him worth listening to, quaked under the pressure. But Paris wasn’t his priority, saving his mother and Juleka was. So he took it. 

When the Kwami of Intuition, Sass, appeared, bowing his head formally, Luka wondered if those snake-like eyes could see right through him. From his cheeks filled with ladybugs, all the way through to his bottomless pit of emptiness that now held the aftermath of an affection, a wreckage of insect wings, wrong chords, and crumpled speeches.

The Kwami only smiled knowingly, and he felt a shiver of anticipation run down his spine. Still he said the words, and then Luka was half Viperion. 

What do you think?

Luka looked up from strumming the tune trying to gauge Marinette’s reaction from behind a tower of macaron boxes. Her eyes softened, but stayed open, and he immediately knew it was nowhere close to being good enough.

She was quick to praise his skill though, and he offered her a ride to Le Grand Paris for the Bourgeois’ 20th wedding Anniversary, on the back of his delivery bike. 

The ladybugs from Luka’s face swarmed back into his chest with vengeance as Marinette hugged his torso, her fingers clutching his jacket for dear life as he pedalled through Parisian traffic as quickly as he dared. 

This time, when she thanked him with a kiss, Luka was able to pinpoint the exact moment the crimson menaces overran his flushed cheeks. 

He turned away quickly, (hiding his face in her spare helmet), so quickly that he couldn’t hear the last thing she said to him over the sound of a million ladybugs taking flight.

Are you sure you want to hear it?

She knew what he was really asking her, of course. Are you sure this is what you want– that I am what you want? 

Marinette nodded, leaning into him and Luka held his breath, plucking out the perfect rhythm as the watery sunshine glinted off the slick, cobblestoned pavement across from them.

He’d listened carefully for the chords in her heart every time they’d talked, and painstakingly pieced together its melody but even though he’d double checked, triple-checked even, Luka felt the inescapable presence of doubt slither from out his stomach, curling its wicked tail around his half-empty heart. 

Marinette’s tune sounded just as incomplete as his.

Under the moonlight, by the sea– KISS ME!

He rubbed the back of his neck (where the ladybugs were gathered), embarrassed. It was the easiest question he knew, so he hadn’t counted on Marinette’s ridiculously competitive spirit when she’d yelled out the answer with her whole heart.

I mean, if you want to.

She did want to, and so did he. But even as Luka leaned in to press his lips to hers, to pray his kiss would somehow wake the sleeping butterflies in her chest, strain to hear the final note in her shrouded melody– he felt the interruption before it came.

The ceiling shook and Marinette ran off to get them something to drink, forgetting the white linoleum cup that she’d left beside him, filled to the brim with orange juice and disappointment.

He watched her go, like he’d done so often. Taking her secrets and her chaos with her.

The truth, Luka, is the only thing I can’t tell you.

He had never been half pain before, not like this. Not poisonous, acidic agony  that filled the empty parts of him so throughly that it flooded his lungs, burning the ladybugs, drowning the music out completely. 

It hurt to think, it hurt to breathe. 

Luka wasn’t surprised that the akuma found him so quickly, but he curled into himself as Marinette’s voice scrabbled for purchase in his mind, begging him to fight the temptation, fight the evil that would undoubtedly lead to more suffering. 

He couldn’t blame her. She didn’t understand how her voice was the thing that hurt him the most.

Why did you abandon me?

Jagged Stone’s lips were painted white with Truth’s compulsion power but Luka knew that whatever came out of his former hero's mouth now wouldn’t matter at all. 

The damage had already been done. He’d seen the scars it’d left on his mother’s broken melody, his sister’s quiet song.

His own silent, silent heart.

It was hard to tell which part was him and which was the akuma, when he hurled his would-be father from the terrace of a several-story building and set off towards the Dupain-Cheng Bakery. 

You know, not seeing you is a hundred times worse than seeing you, Marinette.

The familiar rush of ladybugs filled his chest when she put her forgiving hand on his shoulder, as though they were flowing out of her and into him through the lightest of touches.

Luka swallowed the confession in his throat when she asked to be friends, much to the chagrin of a hundred scarlet wings beating in his ears, and pulled her in for a hug so she wouldn’t see it on his face, plain-as-day.

The milky white moonlight caressed his cheek fondly, like a mother would, as he breathed in Marinette’s rose perfume. He knew had to let her go, it was just a matter of time. 

Foolishly, he wished he’d kept the snake miraculous he’d borrowed weeks ago, just so he could have a second chance with her. A chance to do it again, do it right this time. A chance to sweep her off her feet; to put the butterflies under her skin before Adrien, before anyone.

But Luka understood with a sinking feeling that even that wouldn’t be enough. He’d watched the way his parents clawed at one another’s sanity mere hours ago, unable to see that their fighting was turning down Juleka’s quiet symphony even further into herself.

People like them, like him, didn’t get second chances. Not when it mattered, anyway.

Awesome! I always wanted to be the Knitting Fairy in real life!

Luka was half terror when he watched Paris’ bravest superhero transform into the love of his life. 

It transcended panic, surpassed horror. The worst thing in the world that could’ve happened just happened and he had no idea what to do about it.

Marinette? He said her name like a prayer, like a wish that hovered on his tongue ever so delicately, ready to disappear into the wind. But as the girl turned around and beamed at him, the happiest smile on her face, Luka finally felt the final piece of of her melody click into place.

Second chance!

He took the dread and stuffed it down, deep, deep down inside of him; somewhere under the graveyard of ladybugs, shredded posters and scales. The shock would have to wait, he could only be one thing at a time and right now he had to be Viperion.

When I was a kid, I always wanted to be what my parents wanted me to be!

Luka wished he hadn’t turned around. 

Where Chat Noir once stood, now Adrien Agreste took his place, looking vaguely cheery despite what he’d just said moments before. He didn’t even need to use his powers to know Chat Noir had gotten hit by the akuma on purpose. 

Marinette hadn’t noticed yet, too busy talking to a man whose childhood dream was to become a stuffed animal, and the anxiety rose up like bile in the back of his throat. He’d been half pain before but this was something new.

Luka was half pity, half hope. Half defeat. 

His heart seemed to be breaking over and over in his chest, the muscle spasming so violently that everything in him was instantly ground to dust. The walls, the silence, the ladybugs. All the pain he’d carried around with him since his very first akumatisation.  

Because nothing he was going through could ever compare to Marinette and Adrien being... to them being..

Second chance!

Viperion was wholly conviction when he reassured Ladybug that he’d make sure no one would discover their secret identities. If he were still Luka he’d wonder how he hadn’t seen it before– her strength, her determination, the way Marinette’s nose crinkled when she was focused on something, all of it matched the red and black-spotted superhero to a T. 

But he, much like the rest of Paris, had only ever seen what they wanted to see. And Luka hadn’t wanted to see her in pain.

Not even me- luckily Wishmaker never hit you or Chat Noir.

He expected the lie to sour his tongue, turn his skin blue with irony, but it came easily, almost too easily for his comfort. But Marinette (because she would only ever be Marinette to him) smiled like his word was more than enough for her to trust him forever and turned to leave, like she’d done so many times before.

Now he knew why. 

The ladybugs in chest (ha!) swarmed against his rib cage as she left, tiny wings beating furiously as though they were trying to break right through his skin and follow her back home. 

Before Luka could think to question why, he was already running after her, reading the fluttering inside him like a compass, leading him further and further away from the street, down the sidewalk, all the way to the only thing that ever made him whole. All the way to her– 

Luka! Thank you for hiding me in here!

He wanted it to be a dream, a really bad dream; a really awful, terrible dream he’d wake up from any second, but when she’d opened the door, a nanosecond before he’d knocked and smiled up at him, her shoulders slumped over with the weight of the world; all he could think was how lucky he was.

Lucky to have known her, lucky to have loved her. Lucky to be empty enough to carry her secret for now, for forever.

You guys are okay!

“We’re all okay,” Luka smiled, looking between his two friends, “Thanks to Ladybug and Chat Noir.”

He’d almost meant it this time, but as he watched the Ladybug and Chat Noir in front of him look into each other’s eyes, completely unaware of all the forces of the universe that had conspired to bring them both to this moment, Luka knew he would never be whole.

For as long as Luka Couffaine could remember, he was a half. It was only when he turned fifteen, watching the dying sun set over the Seine, did he realise that the other half of him had only ever been other people’s secrets. 

-fin-

[cinematicsoph]

still • niall horan blurb

summary: you and niall have been dating for about a year and the fans still haven't accepted you two together. you are so fed up with all the hate so you decide to take matters into your own hands. but he hasn't moved on.

warnings: angsty ish, swearing, mentions of drinking, uses they/them pronouns like twice

a/n: this was going payback to my friend for spamming me with Johnny Orlando pics while i was studying. but because i had this idea while listening to Still by Niall Horan, i felt like i had to write it for him like i originally planned. i wrote a very specific line first and i'm lowkey obsessed with it so.

Copyright @ 2022 sophi_quimby. All rights reserved. This original work is not allowed to be reposted on any platform in any format by anyone but me

  ✧ ˚ 　· 　　. 　　 · 　˚ ✧ ✧ ˚ 　· 　　. 　　 · 　˚ ✧✧ ˚ 　· 　. 　　 · 　˚ ✧

It’s been three months and ten days since you and Niall broke up, not that he’s counting. It feels like he hasn’t left the couch since you were standing in front of him telling him that you can’t handle the pressure of being in the public anymore. That the fans finally pushed you away from him. He doesn’t know where you are or what you’re doing anymore. But you haven’t left his mind. You will never leave his mind. He still remembers every word you said to him when you left.

*3 months and 10 days ago*

   “Hey, love. How was your day?” Niall looks up from his phone as you walk into the living room. He sees your eyes are red and puffy and your cheeks are slightly red, an obvious sign you had been crying. “Love? What happened?”

   “I can’t keep doing this, Ni.” Your voice sounds thick and it cracks with emotion.

   “Can’t do what?” He stands up from the couch and walks over to you. He reaches for you to pull you into a hug but you move out of the way, denying his sign of affection. “What’s going on?”

   “I posted a picture of us on Instagram and your fans found it. They started leaving comments about how I’m not good enough for you, or how you don’t look happy with me. Just r-really nasty things,” you sniffle and wipe your eyes with the sleeve of your (his) sweatshirt. This has been going on ever since you two decided to go public with your relationship on your one year anniversary. It’s now eight months later and Niall’s “loyal” fanbase still isn’t willing to accept that their idol is no longer single. 

  He sighs and sits back down on the couch. “I’ll handle it, love. I’m so sorry this keeps happening. I really don’t understand why they just can’t accept-“

   “I can’t do this anymore, Niall.” You look at him, staying in your place right in front of the couch.

   “What are you talking about?” He looks up at you confused.

   “I’m done. I-I can’t keep worrying about running into one of your fans when I go anywhere or post anything on social media. I thought I could handle being in the public eye, especially for you. But this is too much. I can’t keep doing this. I-I’m sorry, Niall. I’m breaking up with you.”

   He felt the wind being knocked out of him, his heart stopped, everything blacked out. “You’re…breaking up with me?”

   “I don’t want to. But this can’t be healthy, for either of us. I’m left feeling like I’m never going to be good enough for you. That you deserve someone, anyone, better than me. It isn’t good for my self esteem and I never feel like I’m giving you enough. I have to leave, Niall. I’m sorry. I can’t keep doing this.”

*today*

   After you said that, you grabbed the things you had at his place and left, crying. He wanted to comfort you. He wanted to run after you, hold you, and tell you that everything will be okay. But he was frozen, stuck to the couch. The only movement being his breathing and the blinking back of his tears. He wasn’t an emotional guy, but he loved you so much. Without you he felt empty, lost, incomplete. You were, are, the love of his life. Every passing second he bitches at himself for letting you walk away that easily. He should’ve stopped you.

   I can’t keep doing this. That line kept playing over and over again in his head. He had no idea it was that bad. That you had been feeling this way for so long. It broke him. He couldn’t help but feel guilty. For not seeing the hate, the signs that you were feeling this way. He was blind. And it killed your relationship.

   He had never drank this much in his life. Constantly drinking Guinness and passing out on the couch, only to start all over again when he finally woke up. Lewis had been over every Sunday, trying to get Niall off the couch and into the shower. Or at least his bed. But Niall wouldn’t budge. He’d stay on the couch, only moving to get another beer, staring at the wall. He somehow has an endless supply of Guinness and hasn’t needed to leave the house in the three months you’ve been gone.

   Lewis had never seen Niall like this. He was getting really worried, and knew that the only person who could fix it had been nowhere to be seen or heard from in three months. While you and Niall were dating, you had gotten really close with Lewis. He had treated you like a younger sister. It had broken you both when you broke up with Niall. Lewis didn’t blame you for breaking up with him though. He knew how bad the fans can get when their favorite celebrities start dating. He still tries his best to keep in touch with you, but you haven’t responded. He tried messaging your friends and family, trying to get any type of information about where you are or what you’re doing. Only your mom knew that you had turned off all social media and silenced any messages or calls from anyone that isn’t family. She said you had been staying with her and your dad for the last three months. He felt better knowing you were safe. Lewis had been worried about you so hearing from your parents was a weight lifted off of his shoulders.

   It was another one of Lewis’s weekly visits. He pulled up to Niall’s house and walked inside. Niall’s house was a mess once again, even though Lewis had cleaned it last week when he came by. Lewis knew it was time to call up the big guns. He had done his best to help Niall, but he can’t do it any more. It’s hopeless. There’s only one person left to call…as long as they picked up.

   You never wanted to break up with Niall. He was your best friend, your lover, everything. He was, is, your everything. But you couldn’t deal with his fans anymore. They constantly projected their own insecurities and jealousy on you, it was too much. The break up affected you more than you wish to admit. You turned off notifications for all your social media platforms, knowing that the fans would likely be even more upset with you now that you broke the heart of their idol. Because as everyone knows, a stranger dating their idol is bad, but a stranger breaking up with their idol is even worse.

   You didn’t want to delete your platforms, you keep Niall’s page open on every platform he has, nearly all the time. Your thumb becomes sore from the constant scrolling and refreshing you do of his page, hoping you see (or don’t) any updates on how the love of your life is feeling. So far nothing. The last thing on his Instagram page is a selfie he posted of you two from your last date. It’s a similar one to what you posted of him, the one with the comments and acts that eventually lead to your breakup.

   You’ve been staying at your parent’s house, in your old room. Your mom and dad have been giving you the space you need, but you know they're secretly worried. You can’t ignore the subtle glances to see if you react anytime you’re in the car and one of Niall’s songs comes on. Or the indirect questions of whether or not you’re okay or thinking of harming yourself. You do. And you're not, but you wouldn’t. Any phone call, text, or email you get is ignored. Except for one.

   “I know how awkward this must be, but I know that you’re the only person who can fix this.” Lewis opens Niall’s front door to let you in. You had thought about ignoring his texts and phone calls, but you could tell how concerned Lewis was for his best friend, and you couldn’t ignore that any longer. For Lewis sake, of course. And maybe yours a bit too. Hell, you couldn’t ignore it for Niall’s sake. He’s still the love of your life and best friend.

   “It’s okay. I still care about him. I’ll always care about him.” You walk into Niall’s house and go to his living room. “Niall?”

   He’s dreaming. He has to be. The only time he ever hears your voice is in his dreams. He feels his eyes begin to water. His breath hitches and he swallows the lump forming in his throat. 

   “Y/N.” He hardly ever uses your name, always saying a nickname or a pet name. It takes you aback. You don’t know how to react when you hear your name fall from his lips, especially with so much emotion behind it. You look at him, still handsome as ever (though a bit rough).

   “Niall.” You say again, feeling yourself tear up. You go over to him and kneel in front of him on the couch. “I…I can’t even think of the words to say to you right now. I-I’m so so sorry.”

   “You left me,” he whispers. Your heart shatters. Those three words hurt you more than the actual break up.

   “I’m so so sorry, Ni. Please. You have to understand, I-I couldn’t handle being hated on anymore. It had nothing to do with you,” you cry and shake your head. “I’m being honest, love. Please.”

   “Honest? You want honesty?! I’m still in love with you, y/n! I will never not be in love with you! You mean everything to me, and I never wanted the media to fuck up our relationship like this. You wanted honesty?! I fucking gave it to you. I’m still in love with you.” He’s yelling now. It was like he got snapped out of his trance. There’s tears running down his cheeks and his face is red from the crying.

   “I still love you too, Niall! I didn’t break up with you because I fell out of love with you, I broke up with you because I’m a coward!” You match his volume level and start crying even more. 

   “Don’t talk about yourself like that. You know I hate it,” his voice is back down to a normal volume. He looks you in the eyes. “You look really pretty.” It’s simple, a compliment he’s given you millions of times. But it means so much at this moment.

   “You look really handsome.”

   “I’m a mess,” he sniffles and chuckles quietly.

   “Don’t talk about yourself like that. You know I hate it.” You nudge him and smile slightly. “You look handsome, love. A bit rough, but handsome.”

   “I love you. I still love you. I know we’re so far from our first date at the zoo, but I’m here with you being completely honest. I’m still in love with you, and I always will be.”

   “I love you too, Ni.”

[venomous--fics]

Anon Requested: Omg wait can i request a fic where reader feels like they aren’t good enough for eddie and venom so reader breaks up with them and eddies sad and just a lot of angst (BUT happy ending) if not thats okay !

A/n: Day 5!! I'm think about just extending the weekathon to the entire month! Not too sure yet, but I should decide quickly huh!! I just think it'd be fun to do something like that. Maybe get more and more festive along the way. What do you think?

Song: Halley's Comet by Billie Eilish

"So, that's just it? You're just gonna up and leave and not tell us why?"

He wanted to sound mad, but his voice gave it all away. You couldn't stand the thought of what you were doing to them both. You couldn't even bring yourself to look at them as you left. You didn't even bother to grab your things. You just left emptyhanded.

Subconsciously, maybe you knew you'd find your way back eventually. But...Not now.

The weight of the world began to crush you with every step you took away from their place. You knew they were watching you from the window. If you had to leave, they'd at least make sure you'd stay safe.

It all felt like a cruel punchline to an unfunny joke. How could you be such a fool to think you'd be good for them? They....They were a protector. A lethal one, but still a protector. They helped people and saved the world from every threat imaginable. You sometimes couldn't even drag yourself out of bed.

It didn't seem fair to drag them down like that. They deserved better. They deserved the world, and you just couldn't give them that. Someday they'd find someone who would.

That night was spent alone on a friend's spare guest bed. The world was so quiet. There were no streetlights beaming into your room. There was no more sounds of late night traffic or the people talking and walking as they passed under your shared window.

There was no more fighting Venom for the comforter because he'd purposely hog it just to get your attention. It always worked. There wasn't the usually jokes about forgetting to set your alarms for the work morning ahead.

You simply set your alarm and laid down. The world seemed so much colder and emptier. It didn't seem fun and bright anymore. The bed felt much more spacious now.. The pillows felt too squishy and new. The sheets looked nothing like his.

Staring at the wall wasn't going to put you to sleep any faster, so you rolled over and clamped your eyes shut. You willed yourself to not cry.

The tv kept repeating the same old stuff. Robbery after robbery. Someone got shot. A car accident. Oh, it's going to rain tomorrow.

We should be fixing that..

"I don't feel like doing anything anymore."

"I don't feel like doing anything anymore either, V."

There was an uncomfortable silence. Normally there'd be some form of a pep talk from you, but now.. Your spot on the couch was empty. All that was there to suggest that you even existed was your favorite throw pillow.

With hesitation, Eddie grabbed the pillow and held it in his lap. It still looked brand new, and that's simply because you always knew how to take care of things. Nothing of yours ever really got broken or misplaced..And you always knew just how to handle things.

"I miss them."

A thought they shared in common. It's felt like months, but it's only been a couple of weeks. Your things were still occupying space here. It was almost torturous having to look at them each day and know that you weren't going to come home.

It was that thought that broke them both. They curled up on the couch, sad and defeated. The world was incomplete because you weren't here to make ti better. A rough day at work? You'd say, "Oh, don't worry." as you made some hot coco to relax with. Emotions getting out of control? You were always there with ways to fix them.

Did they take you for granted? Did they forget to cherish you? Did they do something wrong? Everyone always told them that they were just screwups who ruined everything, so maybe they just fucked it up again.

Maybe they'd learn to live with it. Just not today.

It's just not home anymore. Home is where you were.

The rain was awfully heavy today. But you were thankful. Today was hitting you harder than the last few. You were stumbling down the sidewalk, tears streaming down your face. Nothing seemed to hold any meaning anymore. You'd pass by Mrs. Chen's shop, and normally you'd stop by there to get Eddie and V a snack or two. But now, you simply keep walking.

Today you just let your body walk. To where? Wherever you felt like you needed to go. You were so tired, and so worn down. That only help cement in the fact that you just... You were an absolute nobody. Who could love a nobody?

If only you were born gifted with the brains, the talents or even the powers. Maybe you'd be worth something. Maybe you'd see yourself as more. Maybe if you felt like you held any importance to anyone, you'd find a reason to stick around anywhere, with anyone.

Despite wanted to be more to literally anyone, all you could think is being better for them. They meant so much, no, no, they mean so much to you. It felt so dumb and childish to be so hung up on two of the goofiest creatures on this planet. You couldn't lie to anyone. You were hopelessly in love with Eddie Brock, a man who truly was a breed of his own. And you were in love with Venom, an alien with a heart bigger than his stomach but he's too embarrassed to say it.

You don't want to love them anymore. Because you still believe it was better to not be with them.

You slumped against a light post and wiped your eyes. You tried everything to stop the tears from flowing, but that only made them multiply. You'd scold yourself if you had the energy.

The world really did begin to feel more and more empty. People seemed to walk pass and not even give you a second glance. None of them cared, and to be honest, neither did you. Normally you never noticed other people, because you'd be so wrapped up in whatever it was you and Eddie, and yes, Venom too, were doing.

But they aren't here anymore. You were back to where you started. Alone and afraid of what the world had in store. You used to wake up knowing what you'd be doing...But now you weren't sure.

You remained leaned against the streetlight for an eternity. The sun had set and the moon had risen, yet you remained put. Everything was cold now. The rain had subsided, but the light continued to drip down on you, but even then, you didn't have the willpower to move.

It's better to be cold than to have never been warm, right? That is how the saying goes...Right?

You sniffled, waiting for the next set of drops to hit your head, but they never did. You slowly looked up and saw someone's hands holding up a jacket. They looked like they were doing their best to hold it up like an umbrella, and without touching you. You recognized the jacket immediately, even just from seeing the inside of it. You'd worn it so many times.

You stood up straight and turned around, being greeted with the sight of Eddie. He looked just as tired as you, and just as lost. He looked like he had a million things to say, but it seems like the cat had his tongue.

The universe was giving you a chance. For some reason.

"I'm sorry." was the first thing to spill out of your mouth.

"We're sorry, too."

"You didn- It was me. I was.." You took a step back from under the jacket, but it seems like Venom wasn't having any of that. He moved Eddie's body for him, this time, draping the jacket on your shoulders.

You gently crossed your arms and held them close, appreciating the gesture now.

"You can leave now. If you want." Eddie moved back a little, "We just saw that you were cold.."

"I don't want to go." you gripped onto the jacket, trying to fight the new wave of tears threatening to come out, "I just.. I had to because I felt like I wasn't good enough."

You were about to ramble on when Eddie cut you off, "That's why you left?"

"I'm sorry." You felt like you could just curl up and die on the sidewalk.

You looked down, staring at the cracks that littered the walkway. You'd find someway to make this poetic.

Two hands, one human and the other very much not, wrapped themselves around you as they pulled you into a warm embrace.

"Did we make you feel that way?"

The way Eddie's voice cracked made your arms go limp at your sides.

"No. I made myself feel that way- But I can't help it. You guys do so much good and I-"

"We love you."

The hug got tighter, "We used to do what we did because it was the right thing to do. But then we met you and it all changed. It seems so cliche to say that, but...It's true."

"You're just saying that."

"We adore you. We promised to do everything we can to make sure we leave this world a better place for you."

Your hands shook as your fought with yourself. You wanted to hold them just as close as they were holding you, but you felt-

"I don't deserve this.."

Unworthy.

In typical Brock fashion, and never knowing how to truly deal with his emotions, Eddie clung to you, almost pleading, "Would you just listen to what we're saying."

"You can't love me."

"Why the hell not? Huh? Whose going to stop us?"

"Nobody's going to stop us."

"Why is it me. Out of all the worthy people, why me?"

"You're such a good person. I know you don't see that..But you're the kindest person I've ever met."

"Certainly the nicest I've met..."

Every last word you wanted to yell out into the night sky just vanished from your mind. You wrapped your arms around Eddie and squeezed as hard as you could.

"How many times do we have to say it to make you believe it?"

"I'll say it a billion times," Eddie said, "Most guys would quit at a million but me? I don't know when to quit."

"It's true. He doesn't. But if saying it a billion times gets you to come home, then I'd do it a million more than him."

"I," You started, taking in a deep shaky breath, "I wanna go home regardless."

"We can talk more there if you're comfortable."

"With coco."

"I would like that."

The walk home was a talkative one.

Eddie's hand held yours tightly, but not too tight. He was so afraid that if he didn't hold it firmly enough, you'd simply slip away again. He was sure as hell not letting that happen again.

The apartment looked the exact same as when you left. You were so surprised by that. Normally they'd be a mess if you were gone for too long, and the apartment would reflect that.

"It all looks the same."

"Oh. Yeah." Eddie busied himself with fetching the hot chocolate ingredients.

"We couldn't bring ourselves to ruin your hard work...Or move your things." For the first time, Venom seemed sad.

They both seemed tired. You wanted to feel bad, knowing that they felt that way because of you. But knowing that they loved you meant that they felt bad, not because of you, but because you were gone.

Without thinking, your hand reached out and grabbed Eddie's arm, startling him a little.

"Can we go lay down for a little bit.." you asked quietly, "I think we all need a little rest."

Relief washed over him as he set down the cups and lead the way to the bedroom. There was no more words as you three crashed onto the mattress. Venom used a small tendril to turn the lamp off and pull you closer to Eddie.

"Are you okay with loving a nobody like me?" you asked as you watched him shut his eyes.

"Are you okay with loving two nobodies?"

"We are all losers."

Venom pulled a blanket over you and Eddie, going so far as to fluff the pillows under your heads.

"And that's okay. I love us the way we all are."

You yawned for the first time in ages as your eyes closed, "I love us too."

There was that familiar light coming through the window. And there was the sounds of the cars and the people. The world felt just right and you were home. You moved closer to Eddie and placed a quick, soft kiss on his lips, and his arms were quick to wrap around you.

You felt a soft tendril wrap around your arm.

"I know what you're feeling and what you're thinking." His voice sounded surprisingly quiet, "But you are more than enough for us. We don't say it, but sometimes we feel the same way. You could certainly do better than us. But.."

The tendril tighten a little, but not enough to really do much.

"You left and we realized...We don't know what to do without you. We didn't feel like doing anything anymore. It felt pointless."

You turned your head to look at your arm, seeing two small white eyes staring at you with a mixture of sadness and adoration.

"I know I'm not good with these human emotions..I might never be good with them, but..I know that I love you. And Eddie loves you too. We always try our best to show you..But you are truly all we need to be happy in this life."

You were a bit shocked with how much Venom had to say. Most of the time, he tried to use the least amount of words possible to get his point across, so you knew that he meant it.

"You both complete me, and for once, I finally have the courage to say it, because I don't know when I'll get the chance to say it again."

You smiled softly at him, and moved your arm in a way where you could place a soft kiss onto the top of his tiny little worm head.

"I won't leave again. I promise we can talk about it first."

"Talking is good."

"I love you, V."

"I love you too." He seemed to pause as he shot a glance up to Eddie, just to make sure he was still asleep, "More than that guy."

"Not possible." Eddie groaned, adjusting a little.

You smiled a little as you curled up under the blanket and actually shut your eyes for good for the night. Finally, a good night's rest. You still had doubts, maybe not many and none as big and frightening as before, but that was normal.

Not everything in life is a given or a certainty. You're not promised to tomorrow and it's not a give that you'll be a millionaire. But where you are now is where you're supposed to be. Don't doubt it. The two halves of your heart will quite literally walk to the ends of the universe just to see you smile, and that's more than enough for you.

[winter-soldier-vibes]

Burnout (Bucky x reader)

“Burnout”

Bucky x reader

Warnings: burnout, overworked, mental breakdown/panic attack

Word count: 3377

A/N: Take care of yourself, burnout is real and you CAN get sick. Trust me. I’m always here if you wanna talk to someone about anything or want another friend. Stay strong <3

Includes: Lyrics from the song “Weight of the World” by Citizen Soldier

Tags: @buckys2thicc @thatfangirl42 @thundering-barnes @abitgryffindorky @ladyfallonavenger

---------

These nights were becoming more common. And that wasn’t a good thing.

You sat at your desk surrounded by papers, empty cans of energy drinks, and a bright laptop screen. You held your head in your hands and you tried to keep your eyes awake, turning the screen brightness higher. 

1:46 AM

You sighed and rubbed your eyes, trying to rub the sleep out of them. You took your hands away and looked back at the screen briefly before covering your face again. 

You lived with the Avengers and were a huge asset to the team. Not only were you enhanced with powers, but you were incredibly intelligent. That being the case, you worked with Tony and Bruce in the lab either developing new ideas or fixing suits after missions. As well as being on the mission yourself. Therefore you trained early every morning with Steve and Bucky. You also did most of the mission reports, switching off with Steve once and a while.

Most nights you could be found either working through paperwork, down in the lab working into the morning with Tony, or researching for new projects in said lab. You never meant to stay up as late as you did, but no matter how hard you worked, more work kept appearing. Every 10 PM soon turned into 2 AM, and you could never quite catch a break. You had turned to caffeine not long ago, quickly using it as a crutch to supplement sleep. 

You had just gotten back from a long mission with the team, and were incredibly sore. Steve hadn’t gone on this mission, leaving you to finish the report. Add to that, Tony wanted to make a better suit for Peter, and Sam’s wings were busted. Tony was working on Peter’s suit, wanting to make it perfect, leaving you with fixing the wings for Sam. 

You decided to work on Sam’s Falcon suit first, seeing that you lived on Planet Earth and he could be scheduled for another mission at any time. What seemed to be superficial damage turned out to be extensive, and required much more repairing that you had anticipated. What you had planned to be a 2 hour process had turned into just over a day of work in the lab. 

Not wanting to lose your place and needing a distraction from the soreness, you had worked for hours straight, only breaking to relieve yourself every so often. You were exhausted and ready to fall asleep when you laid back in your bed. Only to check your notifications and see an email from Fury requesting the mission report immediately.

Sent hours ago.

Which led you to where you were now. You hadn’t slept in almost 48 hours, sore from the mission, with a tedious mission report to fill out. Taking a deep breath, you removed your hands from your face.

 2:07 AM.

You groaned, but brought your hands back to the keyboard and began typing. The words were blurring together and you shook your head a few times trying to stay awake. Somehow, you finished the report and sent it off and looked at the time again.

3:13 AM

You rubbed your temples before climbing back into your bed, sighing out as your eyes filled with tears. It wasn’t uncommon for you to go to bed this late/early. Lately Tony had been coming up with more ideas and would ask you to help. Since Tony works through most of the night, you had learned to do the same. You don’t remember the last time you had more than 3 or 4 hours of sleep. 

You were off the hook for training for a few days, due to having just gotten back from a mission. And while you had been hesitant at first, you were grateful now that you had a bit more time to sleep. Despite the caffeine you had consumed to stay awake, you were absolutely exhausted. Tears threatened to fall from your eyes but you tried to breathe through it. You just wanted a break but couldn’t seem to catch one. 

You curled into yourself as your stomach began to growl. ‘When was the last time I ate?’ you thought. Not that it mattered, there was nothing that could bring you out of your bed at that moment. You drifted off to sleep.

-----

You woke up to your phone chiming and groaned, picking it up to see what was so important. Your eyes find the top message, informing you that the mission report you had submitted was incomplete. You jolted out of bed and over to your desk to begin working on the report again, biting back tears of embarrassment at such a ridiculous error on your part. How could you have been so tired that you missed an entire section of a report?

You cracked open another energy drink that you kept in your room and began guzzling it. You were still in the same clothes as the day before and you hadn’t taken your hair down from it’s bun in days. Your stomach grumbled but you answered it with more of the energy drink. You would deal with hunger later. This was much more important. 

Your head was pounding and you could barely sit up straight. You had barely gotten a few hours of sleep and somehow felt more tired than you had before it. Your sight became more blurry as it became harder to suppress the tears. You were angry at yourself, why couldn’t you just get this one fucking thing done?

You worked through the section quickly, or at least, you tried to. You kept having to reread sections, not comprehending what the words were saying anymore. You rubbed your eyes aggressively and shook your head, trying to concentrate. You reached to grab the energy drink again, but instead accidentally spilled it all over yourself. Letting out a “Fuck!” as you stood up, something inside you snapped. 

You threw the can across the room, not caring how much was left inside of it. You flipped your chair and crumbled the miscellaneous papers on your desk. You let out a scream of frustration, and threw a picture frame across the room. After which, you bent over and placed your hands on your knees, small sobs beginning to wrack your body. You were just so tired, you had work to do, but you couldn’t do it no matter how simple it was. 

You walked around the mess and into your bathroom, closing the door. You turned on the shower and got in, not even bothering to take off your clothes or wait for it to warm up. You didn’t care. You couldn’t. You sank to the floor, tears streaming down your face as the shower began to warm. You couldn’t bring yourself together, every time you tried to calm down a new wave of frustration and exhaustion would hit you and you would start crying all over again. You held your hand to your chest, trying to catch your breath a little, not having much success. You were gasping for air, it felt like you were breathing fire. Unable to fight it anymore, you started choking out lyrics to one of your go-to sad songs.

Feel the weight of the world over me tonight.

If I break, if I break down this time

You took a shaky breath and choked out the next line

Hope you know I tried…

Meanwhile, Bucky had been thinking about you. The two of you were very close, you had been ever since Steve had introduced you to him. He was in awe of how you could both rival Tony in the lab and himself in the training room. That and how much you did for others. You had helped him a lot when Bucky had first come to the compound. And he was very grateful.

He knew you had gotten back from a mission a few days ago, and were probably exhausted. From what he had heard it had been a brutal mission. However, in the past, you had usually gotten back into the routine of daily life pretty quickly. He hasn’t so much as seen you since you got back. 

He couldn’t help but worry.

He decided to go to your room to check on you, seeing as it was later in the morning and you had had a chance to sleep. Little did he know, you hadn’t. When he got to your door he knocked and waited for a response. He was met with nothing. However, with his enhanced hearing, he heard muffled singing from inside. He couldn’t hear the words, but you sounded in pain. 

My mind’s such a mess, I can’t handle it, I’m at the end of my rope.

Worried, he let himself in and took in the state of the room. It was completely trashed, shattered glass, overturned furniture, crumbled papers. He heard the shower running and could hear your cries through the lyrics

My neck is breaking body shaking

Sometimes it’s so hard to breathe

But no one sees it follows me i always end up underneath

The weight of the world…

You began coughing, still gasping for air and holding your chest. Bucky came over to the bathroom door and opened it, concerned you were in pain. You were sitting on the floor, drenched and shaking. Steam filled the room, fogging up the mirrors. He came over to you, trying to get your attention but you couldn’t hear him. Worried, he stepped into the shower as well, swearing as it burned his skin. He crouched down in front of you and took your face in his hands, trying to guide your face to his.

“Y/n, y/n can you hear me? Can you look at me?” he said. 

Coming back to your senses slightly, you tried to figure out who was in front of you. You grabbed one of his forearms and focused your eyes, still struggling to breathe. You found Bucky’s blue eyes looking back at you.

Bucky, knowing you were now aware of his presence, reached to turn off the water while still maintaining eye contact. You were coughing, choking on each breath, still shaking and crying. Bucky had never seen you like this. You tried looking around again, forgetting briefly where you were and what had happened, breath picking up again in confusion.  “Hey, hey, y/n? I need you to keep your eyes on me okay?”

“It...hurts..” you gasped out, feeling like fire filled your lungs. Your arms had gone numb and in the absence of the warm water your wet body was now shivering from both the cold and anxiety. 

Bucky quickly looked you up and down. “What hurts, y/n?” he said calmly but firmly even though he was freaking out internally.

Fresh tears spilled out of your eyes. You tried to talk but couldn’t speak through your panic. You rubbed your chest, willing your heart to slow down but it wouldn’t. 

Bucky, still keeping his eyes locked on yours, said “Listen, y/n, I need you to try and breathe with me slowly, okay? Like this,” he breathed in deeply and let it out slowly. You tried to copy him and after a few breaths lost your pace. You shook your head. “I can’t…. I...I…”

. “It’s okay, you’re okay, you’re safe y/n. Try again, I’m right here okay? Look at me.” he said, still breathing deeply. Eventually, you were able to find a rhythm and catch your breath, becoming aware of the situation and everything that had happened. Now able to breathe, you felt new tears of shame rush to your eyes. There were a few moments of silence

“What happened?” Bucky asked, concern etched on his face. 

You let out a small sob and covered your face, and Bucky’s heart shattered. He had never seen anyone this upset, nevermind you. You had always been so strong, energetic, joyful. And here you were, soaking wet and shaking on the shower floor. What the hell had happened to you? 

He stood up and got out of the shower, also soaked, but he didn’t care about that right now. He leaned down and put one arm behind your back and the other looped under your knees and he picked you up. He placed you down on the vanity and stood in front of you. He carefully took your wrists and pulled them away from your face, you looking at him through bloodshot eyes. 

“You - you’re soaked,” you said, both out of shock and in an attempt to deflect the attention from you.

“Wh- I mean, yeah, so are you,” Bucky said. “Y/n, can you tell me what happened?”

You looked down at your hands and swallowed thickly, embarrassed. “I, uh…” you cleared your throat. What had happened? You closed your eyes and rubbed your head. 

The shower

The song

Your room

The report

The energy drink

Oh fuck

You sighed out “Shit, I just…” again, shame began to overtake you. “It’s stupid, forget about it,” you said, trying to stand up. 

Bucky stopped you, confused. “Y/n, whatever just happened, that…  That’s not caused by something stupid. I’ve never seen you so upset before. Hell I’ve never seen anyone so upset before. But I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what’s wrong.”

“Really, Buck, I’m fine,” you said.

“Then why are you trying not to cry?”

You sighed. There was no other way out of this. You looked at him and said, “I was just done.” You looked back down at your hands, and continued trying to keep the waiver out of your voice. “I just, um...After the mission I had to fix Sam’s wings, and it took me longer than I expected. And then I still had the mission report which took me all of last night and then I found out that I had missed an entire section. And I got mad that I couldn’t focus or stay awake and I just kind of...broke.”

As you looked back at him, face not as red, he could see how tired you seemed. “Are you sleeping?”

“I mean, a little bit it’s not like I’ve been awake this whole time but -”

“Y/n.”

You looked at him. “A couple of hours a night at most,” you said quietly. 

Bucky nodded sadly. “Anything else?”

You opened and closed your mouth a few times. “I mean it’s not a big deal -”

“What I just saw was a big deal,” Bucky said gently.

“I haven’t really made time to eat either,” you tried to laugh it off a little. “Just kind of chugged energy drinks. But then I spilled it all over myself, so...bad idea I guess.”

Bucky wasn’t laughing. But he wasn’t angry either. He was, but not at you, never at you.

“I’m sorry,” you said. 

“Why didn’t you say anything? The days off after missions are there for rest.”

You shrugged. “I had important shit to do.” 

“Well you’re pretty important shit too,” he said a little more firmly, but still not angrily. He sighed. “But really, if you’re not okay then nothing gets done. You’re going to get sick if you keep doing this to yourself. When was the last time you had more than a few hours of sleep?”

“I don’t know,” you answered honestly. 

He sighed once again. “I’m sorry,” you said, fearful that he was angry with you.

“No, it’s not your fault I just…” he looked away for a second before looking back at you. “I don’t like seeing you like this. I don’t want you pushing yourself so hard and getting hurt.”

You sighed sadly and rubbed your eyes. “Every day I tell myself it’s the last day I’ll stay up so late. I always tell myself I’ll eat after my project is done. But no matter how hard I work there’s just more and more work that needs to get done. And I can’t keep up. I feel like I’m drowning. But no matter how much I hate it I...I always come last,” you said. 

“You shouldn’t have to,” Bucky said.

After a few moments of silence, Bucky pulled you in for a hug, you still sitting on the counter. You closed your eyes against his chest and sighed out, feeling good finally getting all of that off of your chest. 

“You’re taking the next few days off.” he said. 

You pulled back and looked at him. “But the report -”

“Is mostly done and Steve can get the rest of the information from Sam.” Bucky finished for you.

“But -”

“Nope. There is not a single thing you could say right now that is going to prevent me from making sure you take care of yourself for a few days.” he said, and you knew he was right. Nodding, he pulled you back in for a hug. 

“We should get out of these clothes.” you said softly, shivering a little. 

Bucky laughed a little. “Yeah, we really should.” 

You moved to stand up from the counter, still a little weak as you leaned on Bucky a little. You walked slowly out to your room and were met with the mess you created earlier. “Shit,” you said, taking in the broken glass and furniture.

Bucky turned you around and said “Do you want to come to my room? We can deal with this some other time.”

You simply nodded, stepping around the broken shards of glass and to the hallway. Bucky’s room wasn’t far from yours, and luckily no one was in the hallways to comment on how both of you were in wet clothes. Once in his room, he closed the door after you and went to his dresser. He pulled out a pair of sweats and one of his T-shirts and handed them to you. “They might be a little big but -”

“Thank you,” you said, taking the clothes and heading to his bathroom. You closed the door and peeled your current outfit off of you. You found a spare towel and dried off the rest of you, and pulled on Bucky’s clothes. They were huge on you, but you didn’t mind. You took your hair down and redid your bun before splashing some cold water on your face. Deeming you looked more presentable, you came back out and saw that Bucky had also changed. Smiling warmly, he pointed to the bed. 

“So you are going to lie down, and I am going to go make you some food. I’ll be right back.”

You started shaking your head. “No, it’s okay, you don’t have -”

He raised his eyebrows, still pointing to the bed. Swallowing a laugh, you nodded and sat down on the bed. Bucky then left the room and returned a few minutes later with a sandwich. After you had eaten it, you laid back in the bed, melting into the softness of the mattress. You faced away from Bucky, who was sitting next to you on his phone. He was (slowly)  texting Steve to finish your report, which took very little convincing. 

After a few minutes, you asked “Can you lay down with me?”

Bucky smiled a little to himself. “Sure, doll,” he said, and he moved to lie down next to you. Unsure of what exactly you wanted, he gave you space. Not soon after, you turned over and scooted closer to his side. After a moment of shock from Bucky, you asked “Is this okay?” Readjusting a little, he wrapped his arm around you and pulled you closer. “Yeah, is this okay?” he asked in return.  You merely hummed in approval, already feeling safer in his warm embrace. He let out a small laugh. “Try to get some rest, y/n. I’ll be here whenever you wake up.”

It was the most peaceful sleep you had ever had.

[sukirichi]

earned it [07]

Gojo Satoru is a firm believer that if you work hard for it then you shall earn it. But on the other side, he’s not unfamiliar with his own sins. He also believes that there is punishment due for his sins as he’s earned it.

cw. explicit smut, pool sex, slight angst, i miss naoya :(, mafia business, mentions of blood, lots of drama, mentions of death and murder

note. IDEK ANYMORE. lmao anyways do you guys want faster updates or do you guys want to wait? i can finish the series next week and then we can move on to white lies 😈

series masterlist

The three of you were seated back at your tables, where the whole dancing fiasco had thankfully ended. Satoru noticed nothing of your behavior – either he was really clueless, or you were a damn good actor – the guy was much too invested with the files Nanami was currently showing.

For a moment, you let yourself loosen as you took a deep breath. The account was much more important than whatever Nanami was scheming.

“I think I may have found where the real money is, or treasure, we should say, since none of us can really figure out what the Zen’ins might be hiding. And from the looks of it, considering Naoya had no idea about what his family kept prior to his death, this is something only his elders wanted to know about,” Nanami pinched the bridge of his nose, sliding a photo of an unsuspecting white manor that you hadn’t seen in a long time. “And it’s been right under our nose the whole time.”

“That’s one of our islands,” you replied with a furrowed brow, “Are you saying you traced the source back there? But that’s impossible, we haven’t used that island for years and even Naoya told me he was going to sell it because it was of no use to us. It’s not on commercial waters and there’s no local people around either. That island is in the middle of nowhere.”

“This is exactly why it’s the best place to hide things – because no one would ever suspect this seemingly harmless middle of nowhere could contain their assets.”

Satoru, who’d kept silent the whole time, inched closer to you. His cologne wafting off to you eased you for a moment – purely because it was familiar – and even though you despised saying it, you were thankful he was here. Currently, the blond man posed a bigger threat, the difference being that Nanami actually had leverage against you while you had more control over Satoru.

You sighed. If Naoya was here, things would’ve been so much better. He never lost his composure in figuring things out on his own. But now that he was gone, now that he’d never be coming back, you had be responsible for his sake, but mostly for yours.

“Take a look at this. The nearest land is a small, uncharted city from Brazil’s outskirts. I’ve been illegally transporting weaponry and firearms somewhere near there since our family started the business – it’s the easiest place to sneak in things without getting caught. All you need to do is pay a few fishermen and they’ll easily transport our load from one place to another, no questions asked,” Satoru announced, seemingly deep in thought as he rubbed his chin. “It would make sense if the Zen’in clan elders found this place useful too. It’s basically a hot site for criminals.”

“But we don’t operate this way. The Zen’in elders are too prideful to handle transactions like this. They would’ve chosen a more…discreet yet formal way of handling things.”

“How does an underwater passage sound?” Nanami pushed the other photo aside to reveal a blurry snap of what seemed like a tunnel under the sea. On the surface, it looked just like an abandoned rig, but it stretched too long, the exterior already covered in mold and seaweed. “About 80 years ago, the Zen’in Clan leader at that time was often heavily targeted by their enemies in business that they preferred to travel under the sea. If my theory is correct, right under that island would be another base of some sort that allows the clan leaders move from one country to another while remaining undetected.”

“So that’s how they easily sent their own shit overseas…”

“It would be a very sound conclusion to assume so,” Nanami crossed his arms at Satoru’s musings, “However, that’s all I know. All I can tell you is where I last got the signal for the source – which is about seven years ago, and a few months right after Toji Zen’in was disowned by his family when Naobito took over. It would also be near around the time he met his wife and had his child, which would increase the possibilities that he may have stored something in this island for his son’s future. Again, it could be money, gold – we don’t really know,” he nodded your way, a sense of finality behind those blue eyes that had now looked so menacing when once it brought you comfort – reassurance. “How you get there is all up to you.”

Something didn’t feel right.

“If the elders really wanted to hide this place, they wouldn’t have passed the rights of the island into my inheritance when Naoya died. They surely wouldn’t have wanted me to find out about this.”

“I could think of two things,” Satoru proposed, “It’s either they trust your potential enough as the clan leader to replace Naoya, or they didn’t think you’d care anyway.”

You let his words sink in. The clan elders have never bothered much with you. They were too prideful about “saving face” and “keeping up images” that they couldn’t even let a word of insult slip past their lips under the belief they were above that. But you weren’t stupid; they had never approved of your marriage to Naoya. An outsider like you, suddenly becoming a part of their family when they could’ve had your husband marry a family friend?

They may have kept silent about their dislike to you, but one way or another, they were going to take action for it.

Knowing the Zen’ins, being a Zen’in, you knew there was one thing they hated the most: not being in control.

“Neither,” you finally concluded while mumbling down at your lap. The theory was hazy, incomplete, based only on mere emotions but slowly, you were coming together to piece it. You felt Satoru turn your way, his large hand caressing your knee as if coaxing the words out of you. “It’s neither. Naoya’s elders…they never liked me. It’s been made pretty clear to me that I’m dispensable without my husband, and I will never be a Zen’in in their eyes. I wouldn’t be surprised if they asked me to give up all my inheritance from Naoya because I’m not related to them by blood.”

The silence in the table stretched.

No matter how grandiose the hotel restaurant may be, you felt suffocated in that seat. How didn’t you realize it sooner? You were in a land that stretched past your territory, with both men accompanying you people you couldn’t wholeheartedly trust, while your husband rotted away back at home – probably covered in dust and not even given a proper burial like he deserved.

There was only one way out of this, to put an end to everything. It would prove to be a daunting task, but you didn’t have a choice. No, in fact, this was your only choice if you wanted to survive.

Satoru’s voice softened upon seeing the grimness of how you turned mum. “I’ll follow you wherever you go. I promise to help you in finding out whatever is in there,” he met your eyes; yours filled with contempt, with fear, with desperation, and his filled with regret. “It’s the least I could do…after everything I’ve done to you.”

You took a deep breath.

You couldn’t lie to yourself. There was no way you could trust him with his empty promises. He’d shown enough times that he wasn’t a man of his word, and you’d be a fool to fall for it again. However, Nanami’s glance was curious and suspecting, hiding his true colors with an innocent gesture of sipping his wine. He may seem unbothered and only here to ‘help’, but this man was cunning, possibly more so than Naoya could ever be, and one wrong move would be similar to stepping on a land mine.

Satoru received no response from you, and soon the three of you were standing outside the hotel’s lobby to escort Nanami back where he came from. The dinner was tense, so much so that you’d unknowingly been clutching Satoru’s bicep the whole time.

He tapped your shoulder, bringing you back to life as he gestured to his phone. “Sorry, it’s Geto.”

“Oh,” you muttered and stepped away from him, feeling your heart sink in your chest as you watched him retreat behind the glass doors. Beside you, Nanami snickered.

“Made up your mind, agent?” he taunted, “This is your final chance to prove yourself. Gather enough intel for us to intrude whatever that mighty clan is hiding underneath that island, surrender Gojo to us, and we’ll give you everything as promised.”

You faced him with fiery eyes, prepared for whatever he’d throw your way when he showed you that cursed red coin again. Realizing its power, the true meaning it held, you immediately shut your lips. It must’ve satisfied to know he was the one in charge here, and how could he not be when your life was literally at the palm of his hands, your days growing more numbered if you didn’t follow everything he asked for?

If you had just…if you had just done everything the Organization had asked you for, you wouldn’t have been here. You wouldn’t have felt this torn.

Nanami flipped the coin before tucking it into his pocket, sending one last salute your way. He hailed a cab and disappeared afterwards, leaving you alone to ponder over the consequences of your actions, your emotions. For the first time in his life, Naoya had lied to you.

He wasn’t correct when he said you were strong.

Because after all this time, you still held onto something that you should’ve let go of a long time ago, and you had nothing but your weak, sensitive, hopeless heart to blame for. Said hurdle appeared not long afterwards, his touch warm on your shoulder as he gazed at the empty spot beside you.

“Oh, Nanami left,” he noted, turning your shoulders to him until you were completely exposed. There was no more hiding from him, or more like you didn’t have enough energy to. You felt dull, tiredness lining your eyes and lips pressed into a flat line. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I am.”

Ten days. That was how much you’ve wasted your time here in Milan, and you weren’t even remotely close to figuring things out. Your resources were much more limited the farther you were from the Zen’in Estate, and your lawyer was a family one, meaning they held more loyalty to the actual Zen’ins instead of law-affiliated people like you were.

Simply put, you were all alone to solve this by yourself.

Satoru promised to help, but he kept disappearing in the morning along with Geto. You never asked where they went or what they did; it simply didn’t matter anymore.

You would only spend hours locked in your room as you researched everything you could on your private island near Brazil. Just like Satoru said, it seemed like the perfect place to hide things for the spot seemed remote enough to offer privacy for the family’s getaway. You could somewhat recall Naoya proposing once to take you there for your honeymoon, but business got in the way, and it wasn’t like you truly trusted him then to spend such an intimate with him that you said no.

Sighing, you put all the papers away. Not even a single clue led you to what could be possibly be there, but there was an underwater passage. The fact the Zen’ins was capable of building that made you wonder just what the extent of their powers and influence stretched to, and you contemplated for a bit if you could hold that same ability now that you had his name.

Whatever was there, you would look for it.

Your mission was clear – the success of it would determine the fate of your life. Find out what they’re hiding, surrender Satoru Gojo to the Organization, and then everything would be over.

It sounded simple, yet your heart knew it wasn’t. Naoya died with the confidence of his trust over you, the trust you worked so hard to earn. But wasn’t that point? You needed him to trust you for you to be able to pull this mission off, but things happened, emotions and conscience got in the way, and you banged your knuckles on the table until your ring throbbed on your finger.

You just wanted it all to end. You never meant to hurt Naoya, never meant to betray anyone, but it fucking pissed you off that Naoya wasn’t the real problem. He wasn’t the one holding you back.

With not much thought to your next actions, you slipped past the guards and into the pool that had long been closed since 10PM. Being at your room’s tub reminded you of memories you’d rather forget, and you slowly undid your robe and stepped out of your underwear before dipping in the cold, freezing water.

It felt good. It may have been temporary, but the numbing bite of the water helped you feel more placated. Even for a little while, it was nice to not worry about anything. There were no titles, no mafia drama, no anything, just you and the water that you would’ve easily fooled yourself to be simply enjoying your little trip in Milan until –

“I’ve been looking for you everywhere. You had me worried sick,” You sighed. Of course. Opening your eyes, you raised a brow as Satoru towered over you, a standard hotel towel in his arms. He’d change out of his suit and into cotton shorts and a shirt this time around, possibly on his way to sleep when he realized the room was empty. With no energy to deal with him, you swam away from the man, earning a groan in response. “What the hell is your problem? You’ve been acting weird ever since Nanami came. Listen, if this is about that island, you don’t have to worry too much about anything. I have enough people and resources to help you in every step of the way.”

You ignored him. After everything that happened, what was there to talk about anymore? Even if you told him everything, he might not understand.

So you swam in the middle of the pool, thankful that it was dark enough from the maintenance shutting the lights off that Satoru struggled to find you. However, you’d underestimated him because soon you heard the splashing of the water, and you were harshly tugged by the wrist before Satoru cornered you at the edge of the pool.

He was breathing hard; both of you were, and tried to push past his chest, only to be met with a solid plane of muscle that wouldn’t budge. You sighed and turned away from him, covering your exposed chest with your arms.

“Whatever Naoya is looking for…you’ll find it, okay?”

“Yeah, sure.”

“I’m serious,” the scorn in his tone had been so biting you turned back to him, about to hit him with something, scold him for something, but your words died down in your throat before you even had the chance to.

Satoru hadn’t been demanding. His face, illuminated by the moonlight, made his azure eyes twinkle like stardust exploding. Once in your life, you found so much comfort into staring at such beauty, but that was when everything was still a perfect lie. Funny how the truth ruined everything for its darkness, and you could only look back at him weakly, throat running dry from all the emotions that threatened to pour out of you.

Regret and desperation was written all over his face.

“Please,” he rested his forehead on yours, eyes closed as he mumbled, “You’re not alone in this. I don’t want to ask for much because I know I don’t deserve it, but please at least understand you don’t have to solve everything on your own. You’re not…you’re not alone. I’m here now.”

“When you left me,” your voice cracked, “It’s because you thought I wouldn’t love you anymore if I found out your true nature,” Satoru opened his eyes, anxiety swimming in those eyes that had once been so sweet. Perhaps he still held that sweetness now, albeit it was less tender and more cautious as he waited for you to continue. “If I told you about every sin I’ve committed, the name of each person I killed and everything I’ve done, would you stay with me? Or would you leave me again, only this time it’s because you think I’m no longer someone you could love?”

“I don’t understand.”

“I didn’t expect you to,” was all you said before you felt a tear prick the back of your eyes. You didn’t want him to see, god, you wanted to disappear in that moment you couldn’t think of anything else. Crashing your lips to his, you brought him down by the back of his neck to hide the tears freely falling from your face.

He froze for a split second before he eagerly pushed back, clenching the pool edges with his hands so hard his knuckles turned white. You were panting, moaning in his mouth as he pressed you harder against the edge, skin to skin, breath to breath, soul to soul.

Threading your hands to his hair, you grinded down on his shorts where he was already beginning to grow hard. Satoru groaned inside your mouth from your teasing but made no move to stop to – after all, why would he want to stop? It had been years, seven fucking years, and even you wouldn’t want to stop. It was wrong, it was dirty, it was immoral – but you needed this. You needed this more than ever.

Satoru’s hands tickled your waist as he squeezed them harsher than he intended, his calloused fingers travelling until he was kneading your breasts. You pulled away from him, head thrown back to rest on the edge.

And it was romantic.

The moon had never been so big, sprinkles of star shining in the vast darkness, the scene just perfect for two lovers in a getaway from the harshness of life. You knew it wasn’t real and the spell would break sooner than later, but did it matter? He rolled your beaded nipples into his fingers before he ducked down, lips suctioned to suck heavy bruises on the sensitive patch of skin on your neck that had you twitching in his hold.

Along with your moans, you cried harder. From heartbreak, from regret, from guilt; there was no turning back from this.

“Satoru, please, please, please. Make me feel better, make me feel good, I just want to forget everything.”

He nodded eagerly against your neck, letting your eager hands help him push his shorts down before his cock sprang free. His length grazed your lower abdomen for a moment, though he didn’t waste any time in entering your hole. You gritted your teeth at the intrusion, nails dug so hard in his shoulders that he bled.

The both of you had your foreheads connected, noses brushing and breaths mixing as you moaned and he sighed, eyes shut tight from finally being engulfed in your warmth.

“Right there, ‘Toru, oh fuck.”

“F-fuck,” he hitched one of your legs to wrap around his waist, “You’re still so tight after all this time,” Satoru praised, molding his lips with yours once again. He picked up his pace and watched as you desperately clung from one surface to another – his shoulders, his hair, the edge of the pool, flailing your arms each time his deep thrusts knocked the wind out of you – breasts bouncing as he bounced you on his cock.

“You look so fucking beautiful – my sweet, sweet angel. I missed you, missed you so fucking much.”

You didn’t say anything. No words were needed to be exchanged; actions spoke louder than words. At least right now, you could promise you wouldn’t lie.

Pulling him down for another kiss, you bit down on his bottom lip to muffle your moans, too speechless at each movement of his dick grazing past your walls. Fuck, he still felt so good, still knew your body way too well and your pussy hugged him so tight like you didn’t ever want to let go.

But you knew you had to, even as he came inside you and brought you back to your room, uncaring of the dripping mess you’ve both made before he locked the door.

You forgot how many hours you spent underneath him writhing in his bed. He took you each way he wanted – knees folded beside your head, on your side where he whispered all the filthy things he’d been wanting to do to you while he took you from behind, or your head squished on the pillow as he repeatedly smacked your ass, pulling your ass cheeks apart to praise you on how you took him so well. Satoru didn’t stop; you knew what you were getting into the moment you pulled him into you, that his sex drive was insane and he’d take long to tire himself out.

By the time the first shy fingertips of the sunlight extending across the horizon arrived, you were emptily staring at the window, Satoru fast asleep beside you.

It was time.

Silently, you pulled his arm away from you and quickly got dressed. He seemed to still be deep in slumber, and you carried the only bag previously packed with everything you might need. You were on the process of wearing your stilettos when he stirred awake, sleepily eyeing you from the bed you both devoted yourselves to in pleasuring one another.

“Where are you going?”

“Away,” you answered, tight-lipped. “From you.”

“Why?”

“Because…I lied,” you inhaled sharply, gloved hands frozen on the golden knobs.

Just open it, you screamed at yourself, walk away before it’s too late.

But you couldn’t move, pathetic that even after everything Naoya had worked so hard for, you still remained a slave to your past.

“No matter how much I hate everything you’ve done to me, I can’t bring myself to forget I once loved you. Maybe I still do – I don’t know. But what I do know is that I’m not as strong as I thought I was,” you cried, losing grip on the bag before it fell. You watched emptily as all the contents poured out – your money, your clothes, your phone, your ring – it all served as a reminder of who you were, of who you’d forgotten to be, of who you were supposed to be.

Your shoulders slumped in defeat.

“I don’t have enough strength to kill you.”

“Hey, angel,” he cooed, reaching you in three long strides before he caged you in his arms. Satoru was so warm, so strong, and the safety he provided you with only made you cry harder. You wanted to hate him, wanted to keep lying yourself since you’d been doing a great job at doing that for the past seven years, but it wasn’t that easy. Deep down…you still harbored the most miniscule affection, and that enough was capable of destroying you.

“What’s wrong?”

“Everything,” you whispered brokenly as you banged a weak fist to his chest, “Everything is wrong.”

Finavice Pharmaceuticals didn’t disappoint.

You were beyond impressed the moment you stepped through the door, a horde of eager chemists guiding you through the upper floors. Finavice was one of the biggest – if not the biggest – companies that were known for harboring the rarest or hard to get elements that not even you and Naoya could get your hands on.

Not by yourselves, anyway, so you took it upon yourself to strike a sponsorship to their research program in developing a cure to cancer under the guise of being an advocate to the improvement of the medical field.

Truthfully, you just wanted to please Naoya, show him you were useful and that he didn’t need to kill you. Desperate times called for desperate measures, and there you were, your prettiest smile plastered on as you scanned the towering buildings with unmasked interest.

“Here is the laboratory for the Finavice Pharmaceuticals where we test…”

“Mrs. Zen’in?”

The entire team stopped as a tall man, cloaked in a beige suit instead of a lab coat appearhed out of nowhere. Judging by how everyone had ducked their heads down and turned silent, you could only guess he must be the boss. Flashing your most charming smile, you hitched your bag higher up your arm. “Yes?”

“May I have a word with you?”

You fought the urge to sigh. His question was spoken much more of a statement that you weren’t really given a room to decline, and the young chemists gazed at you curiously under their lashes.

Not wanting to create a commotion that would lead into unwanted attention, you nodded, following the man through a set of double doors, guarded by two heavily armed men from the outside.

The man, who was Kento Nanami, the founder of Finavice himself leaned back into his seat as he made himself comfortable. “So you signed a contract with us two weeks ago to partner on our latest medicine, am I right? I’ve read over your proposals and I must say, they are rather interesting and innovative. I didn’t expect that a businessman’s wife would be a chemist who is interested in expanding to the pharmaceuticals as well. The Zen’ins has never been much invested in that.”

Gladly accepting the tea he’d slid your way, you made sure to clink the teaspoon against the porcelain as you played along. “People change, Mr. Kento. My husband and I’s goals are rather different from their former, traditional ones. Surely, steel exchange couldn’t support us for the rest of our lives.”

“I can’t say no to that. Kudos to you and your husband for your rather…ambitious shared goals then.”

Your hand froze on the utensil, and you narrowed your eyes at him in warning. “Are you implying we should not have trusted you with this, Mr. Kento?”

“No, I am merely letting you know that your act won’t fool me,” he chuckled, leaning forwards to rest his chin on his clasped knuckles, his blue eyes growing dark and serious. “I know what you and your husband’s family does. The Organization knows a lot more about your actions than you think you know we do. Correct me if I’m wrong, but you’re only here because we’re the only company who has access to an element you need for your drug, isn’t that the case, Mrs. Zen’in?”

Well…this was certainly unexpected. You’ve been effortlessly deceiving countless businessmen, government leaders and officials even, that this took you by your surprise. Two could play at this game.

Even if he saw through you long ago, it wouldn’t take much to grab his letter opener that was right beside you and puncture it through a jugular vein. If his guards came, you could easily take them down too. Today was one of those few moments you were thankful for Naoya’s hellish training.

But you didn’t want him to feel satisfied, so you leaned back into your seat and crossed your leg over the other.

“If you knew this whole time, why didn’t you kill me already? A lot of people wouldn’t miss the chance to do so.”

Nanami chuckled. “It’s because like you, I’m not just a pioneer. I, too, have my goals and loyalty laid out for someone else. Most specifically, the Organization, an international collaborative effort of stopping and reducing mafia movement for the safety of our people. Obviously, I’ve been assigned in the Yakuza Division, and it’s no coincidence I read through your file. You are, after all, one of our precious targets.”

You stared at him boredly. Why couldn’t he just get straight to the point?

“Is this a threat? I’m not sure it’s working.”

“Oh, no, I’m not threatening you,” he snatched your tea and took a long sip from it, and it was the first time you learned of his habit of concealing his curious gaze through drinking; a perfect act to seem inconspicuous.

“I am offering you a path to redemption. You may fool everyone, but I know an unhappy woman when I see one, Mrs. Zen’in, and I can tell you find no pleasure in the life you live – running errands for your criminal husband, constantly fearing for your life, wishing you’d just been a regular person like everyone else…” At the lack of response, he took it a gesture for him to continue, and he set the cup down, pushing his glasses right back up his nose. “The Organization has labeled you a target, but I think you’re more of a victim caught in a series of unfortunate events. I merely wish to save you from it.”

You guffawed in laughter at his last statement.

“You men really are ridiculous!” you slapped your palm on his table, losing every bit of that elegant composure to be perfected by a Zen’in wife. “Always preaching about saving me and protecting me – what actually are you pathetic losers even capable of?”

Much to your dismay, Nanami didn’t seem the least bit affected by your mockery.

“Please, don’t group me in with your husband and your former lover. Unlike them, I harbor no interest in you as a woman, I only want to fulfill my duty as an Agent and save you not because you’re a damsel in distress, but rather because…I could kill two birds with one stone,” his eyes shone in mischief, and you swallowed in discomfort as he gazed you up and down.

You’ve had enough experience with being seen as a meal, but this was different. Nanami was viewing you like you were a secret weapon he intended on using as much as he could to achieve his goals.

“You are a very convenient woman, Mrs. Zen’in. Similar to how your husband adores your abilities, I would like to take advantage of your connections. The only difference between me and them is that I can actually give you something money can’t even buy.”

“Such as?”

“A second chance at a normal life.”

“What makes you think I’ll accept your offer? I’m the wife of a mafia leader – my loyalty resides in him.”

“Only because you fear for your life,” he flashed you a red coin, crescents of a Latin quote scripted inside. Mori quam foedari – death before dishonor.

“Join the Organization, Y/N. With your connections, we could easily take down these families and protect the country. Hand over Satoru Gojo and Naoya Zen’in to us, and I promise the Organization will do everything in its power to give you the life you always wanted. A safe, normal one. No more worrying about being killed as you ride your car, no more beating yourself up as you make drugs to promise your usefulness to your husband and no more pretending you are someone who you’re not,” he flipped the coin between his fingers, and tantalized, you couldn’t keep your eyes off it. “Don’t you want that? You’d be able to live freely if you cooperate with us.”

You could hear the gears in your head turning. Part of you would’ve assumed this was a trap had you not known better, but Naoya taught you that if something was a trap, it would sound too easy, too good.

None of this was easy. It would require facing a demon from your past and handling things differently than what Naoya had planned, but that wasn’t the worst.

It was the fact that if you accepted, you’d have to come home tonight and lie in the face of your husband who could easily read through you. He smelled lies and treachery before you could realize you were even thinking of doing something, and knowing Naoya, he wouldn’t hesitate to put a bullet between your eyes the instant he felt something was off.

But his offer… it was a risk you had to take. You wouldn’t ever get an opportunity like this again.

“Do you promise…that I’ll really go back to normal after this? That I won’t be involved in this mess anymore?”

“I can only promise that if you also promise to do your part. You see, I strongly believe you are the one that can put an end to this all. All you have to do is join us, and soon it’ll feel like this nightmare never happened at all. You’ll be free from Naoya Zen’in and Gojo Satoru before you realize it.”

You stared at his coin harder. Death before dishonor. This Organization he was a part of obviously didn’t fuck around, and it seemed scarier because they had their eyes on you for a while now. What were the odds they offered a deal instead of outright killing you, even going as far as to provide you a second chance at life, one that you genuinely wanted to enjoy? It would be a shame to say no, and even if the chances of this turning out well were low, you would damn well take it. A small chance was better than nothing.

“What do I have to do?”

Nanami grinned and pocketed his coin. “A very wise decision, Mrs. Zen’in,” he congratulated, “Please, meet me at my office tomorrow, eight on the dot. Oh, and remember, the Organization will now be watching you wherever you go. You’re one of us now.”

The next day, Nanami had cut your palm.

He spilled your blood into an empty metal casing with engraved letters, mori quam foedari, the phrase both comforting and ominous. Soon, you came home with your blood solidified into a coin to prove your membership and loyalty, that they quite owned you in more ways than one. Your blood meant your loyalty, and the coin felt heavy in your pocket with the implication it was also your blood they wouldn’t hesitate to spill should you betray them.

Mori quam foedari.

Death before dishonor.

Your life over Naoya’s, your future over Gojo’s.

The next few days had been tense. After telling Satoru everything down from the smallest detail, things had shifted between you. Quite frankly, you expected that maybe he’d kill you right then and there after explicitly stating that just because you couldn’t kill him, didn’t mean you wouldn’t turn him in.

“Angel,” he begged, “Will you never really give me the chance to do everything right this time around?”

However, you were too firm on your plans. You originally wanted to leave and go to the island yourself; it was easier to leave Satoru open and vulnerable for the Organization to attack him in your absence. He loved you, that was much clear, and if he looked for you, he’d make himself vulnerable to the Organization, but recent plans had to be altered now that he wasn’t willing to let go of you. Though no matter what he said, you valued your life and future more than you could ever love him.

It was an act of kindness to yourself.

“I don’t want this life anymore, Satoru. Either way, I don’t have a choice, not when I could die literally anytime before I could even say goodbye.”

It had been hours since ‘that’ talk and now you were on a plane back to Tokyo. You had to pull out some archives from Naoya’s files to know more about the island before you could visit it, and it was important for Satoru to know details such as security measures over there.

You’d long fallen asleep from exhaustion, bundled up in a fleece blanket while Geto glared at you.

“Are you sure about this, Sir? I think we should just keep her with us even if she doesn’t want to. The Gojo clan is powerful enough that no one would dare cross us. Not even this Organization she speaks of has ever done anything to us. Without her, they stand no chance against us,” he sat in front his boss and kept sending wary glances your way. “Letting her go like you did before wasn’t a good idea. She knows too much about everyone to live normally now. Do you really believe the Organization will protect her?”

“Knowing the strings the government could pull – and add on to the fact Nanami Kento, one of the richest men in this country works for them that it’s safe to assume each figure in them is a powerhouse – I don’t doubt their promise one bit.”

“But you’ll go to jail if you let her surrender you. Or worse, they’ll destroy the clan from the bottom up.”

“I know that, Geto.”

Geto groaned, brushing his hands through his hair from how indifferent his boss was being, drinking champagne as if he wasn’t willingly walking into his own death. “Then why aren’t you thinking more clearly about this? I understand you love her and you want to make it up to her, but we can’t let her do whatever she pleases! In order to keep herself safe, she’s going to sacrifice you! She’s dangerous, Sir, she’s been lying to her husband the whole time and who’s to say she isn’t capable of doing something worse to a stranger like you?”

“I told you already, Geto,” Satoru swirled the pink liquid in his flute, his face empty and unreadable. “I know.”

“With all due respect, Sir, I don’t agree with your decision. The clan would fall without you and you don’t have siblings or an heir. No one is powerful to hold the clan together aside from you so if you leave – there’s no more hope for us,” he sighed when Satoru didn’t budge. “I at least want you to reconsider your actions. She’s just a woman, Sir. It’s either we kill her or we imprison her. You let her go before because you believed she would be your downfall, and quite frankly, it’s happening all over again.”

Satoru gazed out the window, bringing the flute to his lips with a dark glint in his eye that Geto recognized meant trouble, or worse, an actual solution to this hellish situation.

“Which is why we’re going to pay an old friend a visit, Geto. There’s only one person who could turn the tables around.”

ADDITIONAL NOTE: TOJI IS COMING SOON!!! what are your theories on what might be on that island and *drum roll* WHO IS GOJO’S OLD FRIEND?! 

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