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rafesapologist · 1 day

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the setback ─ rafe cameron; part ten

summary: it's been two years since your departure from the outer banks and rafe cameron has seemingly convinced himself that he can go on with his life as if you never happened, except now more than ever his addiction is at an all time high. whether he was snorting lines of cocaine at wild parties or drowning himself in alcohol to numb the pain, rafe couldn't escape the memories of you. despite his efforts to bury his feelings, your absence lingered like a shadow, haunting him at every turn. meanwhile, you've been navigating life outside the outer banks, trying to carve out a new path for yourself. but no matter how far you've traveled, the memories of rafe cameron still linger in your heart, leaving you with a sense of unfinished business. as you find yourself facing new challenges and opportunities, you can't help but wonder if fate will eventually bring you back to the place where it all began.

warnings: sexual themes, mentions of m*rder, swearing

You found yourself back at the chateau, retreating into the sanctuary of your room with the heavy weight of indecision pressing down on you. The door shut behind you, enveloping you in a cocoon of solitude as you sought refuge from the turmoil swirling outside.

For the past few days, you had confined yourself within these four walls, venturing out only when absolutely necessary – for snacks or brief interactions with your friends to assure them of your well-being. Work obligations pulled you out occasionally, but other than that, you remained hidden away, grappling with the multitude of thoughts and emotions that consumed you.

The encounter with Topper at the golf course had rattled you more than you cared to admit, stirring up old wounds and unresolved feelings that you had buried deep within. And while you had managed to maintain a facade of composure in front of the others, the truth was that you were struggling to make sense of it all in the solitude of your room.

The news that JJ had delivered to you only added to the weight on your shoulders, casting a shadow of uncertainty over the already tumultuous situation. You found yourself torn between conflicting loyalties, unsure of which path to take and what consequences awaited you at the end of each.

As you sat on your bed, bathed in the soft glow of lamplight, you couldn't help but feel a sense of exhaustion wash over you – both physical and emotional. The events of the past few days had taken their toll, leaving you drained and depleted, yearning for a moment of respite from the chaos that seemed to follow you wherever you went.

But even in the midst of the turmoil, a part of you longed for clarity, for a glimpse of the path forward that would lead you out of the darkness and into the light. And as you closed your eyes, you whispered a silent prayer, hoping against hope that the answers you sought would reveal themselves in due time, guiding you towards a resolution that would bring peace to your troubled heart.

In the solitude of your room, the weight of your decision bore down on you like a heavy burden, squeezing the air from your lungs and clouding your thoughts with uncertainty. It seemed like a simple choice on the surface – spy on Rafe and risk betraying his trust once again, or refuse and potentially jeopardize the safety of your friends, including John B. But as you wrestled with the implications of each option, you realized that there was no easy way out of this dilemma.

On one hand, agreeing to spy on Rafe would mean betraying his trust yet again, potentially driving a permanent wedge between you and the person who had once held a special place in your heart. The thought of hurting him again made your stomach churn with guilt, but you couldn't ignore the gravity of the situation – Ward's threats loomed over John B like a dark cloud, and any information that could help protect him was invaluable.

On the other hand, refusing to spy on Rafe would mean letting down your friends, particularly John B, whose safety was now at risk more than ever before. You couldn't bear the thought of putting them in harm's way, but at the same time, you couldn't shake the feeling that betraying Rafe's trust would be a betrayal of your own moral code.

It was a war waged within your own mind, a battle between loyalty and duty, between friendship and integrity. And as you grappled with the weight of your decision, you couldn't help but feel a sense of frustration and resentment towards the two people who had unwittingly placed you in this impossible position.

They didn't understand – couldn't understand – the commotion that churned within you, the agonizing choice that lay before you like a noose tightening around your neck. And as you stared out into the darkness beyond your window, you knew that whatever choice you made, it would come at a cost – a cost that you would have to bear alone, with no one to share the burden but yourself.

The knock on your door came as a sudden shock, breaking you out of your own mind and thoughts. You jumped up immediately, not wanting to leave the person on the other side of the door to worry. When you opened the door, you were met face to face with Sarah, who greeted you with a warm smile and a plate of cookies in her hands.

"Hey, Sarah," you replied, returning her smile as you stepped aside to let her in. "Thanks for stopping by, and for the cookies. They smell amazing."

"I just wanted to stop by and check in, and give out some cookies cause I made some because I was bored," Sarah explained, her tone light and friendly as she stepped into your room and set the plate down on your desk.

"Well, I figured you could use a little pick-me-up," she continued, her eyes filled with concern as she glanced around the room. "You've been cooped up in here for days. Everything okay?"

You hesitated for a moment, unsure of how much to reveal. But as you met Sarah's gaze, filled with genuine care and compassion, you felt a wave of gratitude wash over you. "Honestly, I've just been… sorting through some stuff," you admitted, a hint of vulnerability creeping into your voice. "It's been a bit overwhelming."

Sarah looked at you with her eyebrow raised, concern etched on her face as she inquired further. She sat down on the edge of your bed next to you, her expression urging you to open up.

"What do you mean? What's been going on?" she asked gently, her voice soft yet insistent.

You sighed, feeling the weight of the words you were about to speak. "It's... complicated," you began, searching for the right way to explain without overwhelming her with the details.

"I've just been feeling torn between... different things," you continued, choosing your words carefully. "And I'm not sure what the right choice is."

Sarah's head tilted slightly to the side, a gesture that conveyed both curiosity and concern. "Torn between what, Y/N?" she asked gently, her eyes searching yours for answers.

You hesitated, knowing that what you were about to reveal could strain your friendship. "Well… it's about this whole John B situation and Rafe," you began slowly, bracing yourself for her reaction. "I understand that this is a big deal and we have to deal with your dad and all, but JJ told me the other day that you guys need me to spy on Rafe again and I just… I don't think I have the strength to do it. It's not right, Sarah."

Sarah nodded slowly, her expression contemplative as she looked down at the cookie in her hands. Taking a bite, she seemed lost in thought for a moment before speaking. "Look," she began, her tone measured, "if anyone understands your position, it's me. I mean, I was forced to choose between John B and my dad at one point, remember? It wasn't an easy choice, Y/N. But I followed my heart and ended up doing what was right for me, not what everybody else wanted."

Her words resonated with you, reminding you of the difficult choices she had faced in the past. You nodded, grateful for her understanding and empathy. "I just wish it were that simple," you admitted, feeling the weight of the situation bearing down on you once again.

"it's never going to be easy, Y/N, but you can't let everyone make decisions for you. Do what feels right for you." She reassured, looking at you with full sincerity draped across her face.

"I know, but JJ is really counting on me for this, and I can't imagine his disappointment if I tell him I won't do it."

"Y/N, stop worrying about what JJ thinks. JJ is always going to want you to live up to the idea of you he has in his head, but in reality, that's not you. If you feel like it's wrong to do, then don't do it. I, for one, don't want to be the reason you're heartbroken because you were forced to spy on Rafe again. And besides, there are other ways we can spy on Ward."

Her words sank in, and you felt a sense of relief wash over you. Sarah always had a way of cutting through the noise and offering a clear perspective. You nodded, grateful for her advice. "You're right," you admitted, feeling a weight lift off your shoulders, "Thanks, Sarah. I needed to hear that."

Sarah grinned, rising from the bed. "Anytime. Now, try not to worry too much, okay? Everything will work out in the end."

You nodded gratefully, feeling a sense of relief wash over you. "And thanks for the cookies too."

With a reassuring smile, Sarah opened the door. "Just remember, I've got your back no matter what. See you later." And with that, she left you alone with your thoughts and a plate of cookies.

As Sarah left the room, you found yourself alone once again, the silence of your surroundings amplifying the weight of your thoughts. Each passing moment seemed to stretch into eternity as you wrestled with the decision looming over you. Sarah's words were a balm to your troubled mind, offering a sense of solidarity in the midst of uncertainty. You nibbled on a single cookie, its sweetness a small comfort as you leaned back against your headboard, the soft warmth of your room enveloping you. With each bite, you felt a semblance of calm washing over you, allowing you to momentarily escape the weight of the world outside your door.

As the minutes ticked by, you found yourself inching closer to a decision, the weight of Sarah's words guiding you towards a path illuminated by your own convictions. With a renewed sense of resolve, you knew that whatever choice you made, it would be a reflection of your own truth, untainted by the expectations of others.

As you sat there contemplating your next move, the weight of the decision pressing down on you like a ton of bricks, you couldn't shake the feeling of being torn between two worlds. The thought of spying on Rafe again filled you with a sense of dread, yet you also felt a sense of obligation to JJ and your friends. It was a moral dilemma that seemed impossible to resolve.

After a moment of internal debate, you finally made a decision. With a deep breath, you reached for your phone, its screen lighting up as you unlocked it. Your fingers hovered over the contacts app for a brief moment before you mustered up the courage to tap on Rafe's name.

With a deep breath, you pressed your finger to the screen, summoning the courage to make the call. Each passing second felt like an eternity as you waited for the phone to connect, the anticipation building with each ring.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, you heard the click of the line connecting, followed by Rafe's voice on the other end. It was a familiar sound, one that stirred a multitude of emotions within you.

"Hello?" Rafe's voice came through the phone, tinged with curiosity and uncertainty.

"Hey, Rafe," you began, your voice betraying the nervousness you felt. "I… I need to talk to you about something."

"Okay, what's going on?" Rafe's voice held a hint of urgency, his curiosity evident in the question.

You hesitated for a moment, gathering your thoughts before deciding to confront the issue head-on. "I think we should talk about it in person," you finally responded, your tone firm yet tinged with apprehension.

There was a brief pause on the other end of the line before Rafe replied, "Sure, where do you want to meet?"

You took a deep breath, steeling yourself for the conversation to come. "How about at the docks? It's quiet there this time of day."

"Sounds good," Rafe agreed, his voice carrying a mix of emotions. "I'll see you there."

You hurriedly threw on a gray jacket over your white tank top, knowing you needed to shield yourself from the cold ocean breeze at night. As you zipped it up, you contemplated your exit strategy. Going through the living room was out of the question; JJ and the boys were there, and they would undoubtedly inquire about your late-night plans. The only feasible option left was the window.

Approaching the window, you took a moment to ensure it was unlocked before sliding it open with a soft creak. Peering out into the darkness, you gauged the distance to the ground below. It wasn't too far, but still a risk. With a deep breath, you swung one leg over the windowsill, followed by the other, and carefully lowered yourself down onto the grass below.

Once your feet touched the ground, you straightened up, brushing off any dirt or grass clinging to your clothes. Casting a quick glance around to make sure no one had noticed your unconventional exit, you set off toward the docks, the cool night air swirling around you as you made your way through the quiet streets of the Outer Banks.

In typical Outer Banks fashion, the roads were dimly lit, if at all. You were lucky if you found a light pole within a mile of the roads at night. But luckily, the docks weren't too far, and you knew your way well. The only downside was the wind from the nearby ocean, whipping through your hair for the entirety of your walk there.

You began to shiver, your arms crossed tightly against your chest as you approached the docks. The old wooden planks creaked under your weight as you treaded cautiously, scanning the area for any sign of Rafe. The faint sound of waves crashing against the shore provided a soothing backdrop to the eerie silence of the night.

You stood there for a moment, your arms wrapped tightly around you as you gazed out at the vast expanse of the ocean, mesmerized by the rhythmic crashing of the waves against the dock. Lost in deep thought, you waited patiently for Rafe to arrive. You knew his trip from Figure 8 would take a bit longer than yours, but you expected he would be driving, so you wouldn't be waiting all night.

As you stood there, contemplating the gravity of your actions, you couldn't shake the nagging feeling of guilt gnawing at the edges of your conscience. Meeting up with Rafe while still technically with JJ felt like walking on thin ice. The potential fallout, especially if JJ were to find out, weighed heavily on your mind. You knew that it could irreparably damage your relationship with JJ, especially given his history with Rafe.

As the raindrops gently peppered your skin, you couldn't help but feel a sense of frustration rising within you. Each droplet seemed to mock your predicament, adding to the complexity of the situation. You cursed softly, your breath visible in the cool night air as you stood alone on the deserted dock.

Then, like a beacon in the darkness, headlights emerged in the distance, cutting through the night like a knife. Your heart leaped with anticipation, hoping it was Rafe's truck finally arriving. As the vehicle drew closer, the sound of its engine reverberated against the wooden planks beneath your feet, creating a symphony of anticipation and uncertainty.

Your heart skipped a beat as Rafe emerged from the truck, his familiar figure providing a sense of comfort amidst the uncertainty of the night. Despite the hoodie pulled over his head, you recognized his tall silhouette immediately. Relief washed over you as he stepped out, hands tucked into his pockets to shield himself from the light drizzle.

With each step closer, his presence felt more palpable, his figure becoming clearer in the dim light. You couldn't help but feel a surge of emotions as he approached, a mix of apprehension and longing swirling within you.

As Rafe closed the distance between you, each step seemed to echo in the quiet night, emphasizing the tension that crackled in the air. His familiar silhouette emerged from the shadows, the hood of his jacket casting a shadow over his features. You could feel the intensity of his gaze even before his eyes met yours, a silent conversation already taking place.

When he finally reached you, his presence loomed over you, his height accentuated in the dim light. The subtle scent of rain mixed with his cologne lingered in the air, adding to the surreal atmosphere of the moment.

Standing mere inches apart, you found yourself lost in the depths of his gaze, a myriad of emotions swirling beneath the surface. With every beat of your heart, the anticipation grew, the unspoken words hanging between you like a delicate thread.

You gave him a weak smile, knowing what you were about to tell him was anything but good. Taking a deep breath, you continued, "Thanks for coming to meet with me, I know it's kind of late."

Rafe's expression softened slightly at your words, his gaze softening as he replied, "Of course, y/n. I'll always make time for you."

Feeling a surge of guilt wash over you, you looked down at your hands, fiddling with your necklace nervously before meeting his gaze once more. "Look, I don't know if this is going to make sense to you, but I felt awful if I didn't tell you, especially after what happened in the past," you started, your voice wavering slightly. "JJ came to me at the golf course after the whole incident with Topper, and he asked me to do something, for John B."

Rafe's brows furrowed in confusion, his expression shifting to one of concern. "What did he ask you to do?"

You swallowed hard, the lump in your throat making it difficult to speak. "He… he asked me to spy on you again."

Rafe looked at you, his expression shifting from concern to confusion. "Spy on me? Again?" he repeated, disbelief evident in his voice.

You nodded, feeling the weight of the situation pressing down on you. "Yeah… I know it's messed up," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. "But JJ thinks it's the only way to find out what your dad's next move is."

Rafe ran a hand through his hair, his eyes searching yours for any sign of hesitation or doubt. "And what did you tell him?" he asked, his voice strained with emotion.

You sighed, a solemn look on your face as you continued, "I told him I don't know if I can do it, because I… I can't hurt you like that again and it's not right. He's been mad at me ever since and wants me to 'think about it,' but I can't do it, Rafe. I… I can't make the same mistake twice, not to you." Your voice trembled with emotion as you spoke, each word a struggle as tears welled up in your eyes.

Rafe remained silent for a moment, his expression unreadable as he processed your words. Then, he reached out, gently wiping away a tear that had escaped down your cheek. "Hey," he said softly, his voice a comforting presence amidst the turmoil, "you don't have to do anything you're not comfortable with, especially if it means hurting yourself in the process."

You looked up at him, grateful for his understanding, but also feeling guilty for burdening him with your dilemma. "I just don't want to disappoint anyone," you admitted, feeling the weight of the situation pressing down on you.

Rafe cupped your face in his hands, his gaze unwavering as he met your eyes. "You're not going to disappoint anyone by following your heart, y/n," he reassured you, his thumb brushing gently against your cheek. "And if JJ can't see that, then that's his problem, not yours."

His words were a balm to your troubled soul, offering you a sense of clarity and reassurance in the midst of uncertainty. You leaned into his touch, finding solace in his presence as the rain continued to fall around you, the sound of the ocean providing a soothing backdrop to your conversation.

Rafe looked up into the distance, sighing before he spoke, "If anything, I'm more pissed at the fact that JJ is still plotting against me and thinking I won't do anything about it."

You nodded in understanding, feeling a surge of frustration coursing through you at the thought of JJ's actions. "Yeah, I get that. But I also think JJ's just trying to protect John B, even if it means making some questionable decisions," you replied, your voice tinged with sympathy for your friend's predicament.

Rafe let out a sigh, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "I know, I know," he muttered, his expression conflicted. "But it still doesn't sit right with me, you know? I thought we were past all this."

You nodded, unable to speak while your emotions were caught in your throat like a foreign body unable to be swallowed down. Your red, teary-eyes gazed back up at Rafe, trying to regain your composure while your mind tried to put together a cohesive sentence. But as if reading your mind, Rafe spoke up again.

"And thank you for not agreeing to do it. I know your friends mean a lot to you... and JJ," Rafe swallowed hard, his jaw clenching at the mere utterance of JJ's name, "I know that wasn't easy for you." His tonality was sincere but his expression remained almost stoic as if there was a war waging within his mind.

You remained silent for another moment, your eyes flickering back and forth between Rafe's azure optic hues as you wondered what was going on in his mind that cause his sudden change in demeanor, "What is it, Rafe?" you questioned.

"Nothing I," he hesitated for a brief second with his hand combing through his hair — an emphasis of his presumed trepidation, "I just hate the fact that they keep setting you up to spy on me s'all. I mean the first time was one thing, but to do it again? I don't get it." You sighed at his admission, feeling a wave of guilt wash over you knowing that you were partially to blame for being a part of the set up in the past.

"It's not necessarily you, it's your dad. He's been out to get John B since we left this island," you avoided Rafe's lingering gaze with your eyes glued to your feet, "and the reason why he ever was is the same reason I hated you when I got back here."

Rafe's body perked up at your comment, both intrigued and confused by your testament. You could tell he had no idea what you were referring to, which only made you feel more unnerved to bring up the topic figuring it was a touchy one for him. Surely he didn't think you knew about his secret, but at the same time, word gets around quickly.

"Rafe.. I know what you did." You blurted out without a second thought, wanting nothing more than to just rip the bandaid right off right then.

"Y/n, what are you talking about?" Rafe crossed his arms defensively with a cocked brow, looking at you as if you were the one who was acting crazy.

The next few words to come out of your mouth were painful, not only for you but for Rafe as well. They fired off like bullets that would leave a gaping wound with it's fragments engraved into anything that surrounded you. But you couldn't lie and hide the truth, you had already said too much to shy away.

"I know you killed Peterkin."

You announced the news rather recklessly and rushedly with your words barely hitting your tongue before they came out. What you said was true, at least to your knowledge, but it didn't make the situation any less uncomfortable and treacherous. You knew that by putting out there what you knew, it made everything all the more real, and it left a bitter taste in your mouth. You watched Rafe practically wince in response as he took in every single word you said. You still felt guilty nonetheless, but you had to confront him sooner or later.

"You don't know what you're talking about. Is this something else one of your Pogue friends lied to you about me?" Rafe spat, inching intimidatingly closer as he backed your against the wooden railing of the dock.

"It doesn't matter who told me.. why else would your dad be trying so hard to frame John B? I'm not stupid, Rafe."

"So what, are you scared of me now? Do you think I'm some kind of monster like the rest of them do? Are you gonna run away like you did two years ago?!" He expectorated right in your face, so close you could practically feel the anger coming out of him like a smoking gun. It was a side of Rafe you had never seen before, even after he found out about your ploy against him, you still saw a glimpse of humanity in him. But this time was different. He looked like he was full of nothing but spite and betrayal, even a hint of humility. What did it mean to him for you to know his darkest secret, even when he wouldn't flat out admit it was true?

"When I found out I was," you blinked, your voice betraying you by the dryness in your throat, "I resented you a lot because what you did put my friend in a terrible situation. He had to go into hiding and so did I." Rafe watched you intently as you spoke, each word given a second thought before coming out of your mouth in fear of setting off a ticking time bomb that was building within Rafe.

"But then I saw you for the first time in two years and every ounce of logic I had just kind of left. Call me crazy I guess," you shrugged with a glimpse of shame displayed in your body language and the averse look on your face that was evident to Rafe. You could see clearly that he was at a loss for words, unsure of what the right response was to the revelations you laid out before him. He gaped at you as if he wasn't entirely sure that you were real in a way that made your cheeks feel hot and flushed, small underneath his menacing stature.

Time seemed to stand still for a moment, torn between remaining in an uncomfortable silence that was louder than any words could say, or letting yourself do damage control and simply hope that Rafe would disregard everything your just poured into him shamelessly. You felt like an idiot the longer it took him to respond and merely just gaze down at you. It felt rather daunting with the uncertainty of if he thought you were insane or understood every word you meant.

But just as the silence began to weave a lump in your throat that nearly suffocated you, a sudden force nearly knocked you a few inches back from where you stood, your lips suddenly being greeted with a pair of soft ones that moved against yours with ease. Butterflies erupted in the pit of your stomach once you had came back to reality and realized it was Rafe kissing you, passionately at that.

His hands snaked down your waist and behind your back, just before the would holster you up against the dock railings. You could feel electricity fire off inside your body once you heard Rafe groan against your lips, his hands eager to touch every inch of you as they aimlessly rubbed and gripped up and down your hips, thighs, and chest. As though it were instinct, you wrapped your legs around his waist with an eagerness to feel his body pressed closer to yours. Both of you were practically feral, bodies grinding against one another as you both silently pleaded for more.

"You're not crazy," Rafe breathlessly spoke as he tore away from your lips to stare back at you as he grabbed your face with sincerity, "you're perfect. So, so perfect." He mumbled as he kissed down your neck swiftly, making your thighs clench together tightly.

"I don't give a fuck what any of those Pogues say," Rafe moaned against your skin while his hands inched up your thigh, "you're mine. And I don't give a fuck what I have to do to let them know it."

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momotorin · 2 days

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you cling to your papers and pens (wait until you like me again)

sana x fem!reader — angst, fluff | cw: mention of cigs, weed

it's been a rough, gruesome six months. you've locked yourself away from everyone else, only focused on your work to keep your expenses in the living range, barely eating with the empty bottles of jack daniel’s and soju lying around the dinner table properly like it's your personal bar.

“holy shit,” your friend, nayeon laughs as she sees your wrecked state. “you look like shit,” she says as she walks in, removing her white leather shoes and tucks them away neatly at the step beside the doorway. “your house looks like shit,” she sighs, taking the bottles of alcohol away from your table to your kitchen top. “everything’s shit.”

“don't need to point out the obvious,” you sighed and followed, also cleaning your mess one by one. “i just want my life back, you know?”

she just laughs as she helps you wipe down the mess on your table, “no, you want sana back.”

“well,” you sighed deeply at the memory of what you once, well, whom you still love. “i don't know. she can't leave me like this when i didn't expect that this would happen.”

nayeon was one of the people whom you ranted and cried to the moment sana went m.i.a on you. honestly, you didn't even know the reason why she did. the days before that event of her leaving, you two were happy; you cooked breakfast together, you kissed every time you wanted to, you made love in every corner, you two talked about the most random shit in the world, you rode bikes beside the river, you went on dates, rarely fought, and solved everything by communicating— like in a deep, boundless honeymoon phase.

with sana, you thought that it was never-ending. unconditional. something you could never find everywhere, even if you tried to scurry the ends of the earth for a similar feeling.

but then, on one winter night, just a few days before her birthday, she disappeared like white smoke as cold as your breaths when you cried and screamed her name in the streets of seoul.

up until now, you call her number, text her number, go to the firm she works at (well, it's unavoidable, your workplace was across the street.), text her friends (which, were also your friends and had no clue that sana also left.) hoping for a little update from her, and why she left you.

after hours of cleaning, you finally found yourself satisfied with the step of making (at least) your house a little cleaner. now, everything's clear to you; how sana left you with an empty home— an empty dinner table, an empty bed, an empty sofa, an empty heart. you went into tears remembering almost everything like it all washed, crashed, and flashed in front of you.

she left you with ghosts that you didn't know how to manage, and you're the only one left to deal with it.

does it haunt her the way it does to you? you cursed that she’d be so haunted by it and come running back.

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on the other side of the world, there's 8 empty bottles of wine on a kitchen top, a woman holding a glass as she wakes up from her ‘nap’ that lasted 8 hours on her couch.

new york. there was sana in the middle of a seemingly concrete jungle, the buildings looming into her as she walks, bigger than anything else she's seen before.

but, this was her escape. she didn't even know what she would escape from.

she confided in the wine glasses, pouring both cheap and expensive wine in one night, crying and lulling herself with your voice in her messages to sleep. it didn't help that it was cold, and your embrace was the only thing that she can ever confide in. it was awful too, how the memory of you talking about new york haunts her, how she imagines you in every street, in every store, in every corner of it and how much you'd enjoy it both.

she doesn't know why she needs time if she chooses to hurt. she's so afraid of the fact that she'll break you, that she can never give what you want.

she found a small, blue velvet box in your cabinet as she wanted to steal one of your hoodies (which happens more often than not) which sent chills to her spine. you wanted to marry her.

at first, she didn't really mind as maybe you'll give it another time, or maybe it's a different ring. but you've been hinting about it ever so slightly since, and that just kept her away. she didn't even know why she was so afraid of telling you just that.

but sana's smart enough to catch on, hearing you on a call with your friend at 3am, talking about the ring, and how you'd give it to her on her birthday, basically like a double thing where you'd propose and surprise her.

on the 28th, she decided, taking one of your hoodies with her as her pairs of shoes, clothes, things, and she herself, leaves your shared home.

she sighs, putting the wineglass to a safer place, her coffee table. it doesn't help that the layout of her flat was so similar to your shared home, and she sometimes just wakes up with tears in her eyes, knowing that she had dreamt about you.

she doesn't know. what she knows is that your hurting at the same time she was hurting.

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“we're going to relocate you to new york for this project,” your boss says as he slides you a thick pile of manila folders, supposedly from the new client. “they liked your portfolio.”

“okay,” you leaned back at the cushioned chair. “what are the conditions?”

“what they've said is that you’ll be on the project for the whole duration,” your boss sighs against his own chair. “and then they’ll put you on their team of other architects in new york. they have a similar style than yours, but they'd make you the head.”

“when will i meet them?” i asked. “i mean, before i fly, there's an initial meeting, right?”

“it’s gonna be on friday,” your boss says. “read the profiles on those so that you could get a rough draft of what they want from you.”

“and surprisingly, they wanted me,” you laughed over the phone at just how ridiculous it was. you haven't had any big projects since six months ago, which was your break-up. you refused to accept, but then, this one's different. “plus, it's a two year contract. they want me there until the building stands upright.”

your friend, momo, laughs in absolute delight. “great. you'd meet me often then,” she joked, but then, you don't see why not. “and, i assure you that i've got the stuff, you know? girls, booze, and even the devil's grass— i have them.”

“god, can you calm down for a second, i'm not even there yet,” you joked back. “wait, isn't weed illegal in new york?”

“yeah, it is,” momo chuckles. “well, you've got to get your ass to other states too to live a little. that's why it's called the united states of america, not united state of new york.”

“i can't believe you can't even stay still,” you sighed over the phone. it was a classic, momo was an adventurer all on her own, so you couldn't blame her. “anyways, meet me at the airport, okay?”

“yes, sure,” she sighs over the phone too. you could just feel the eye roll from thousands of miles away. “you better get me what i've said to you.”

“of course,” you affirmed. it was a list of her favourite snacks and some other asian kitchen staples, since she does cook often. “half of my luggage is like your stuff. don't even complain if the jjapaggeti noodles are broken.”

“yeah, whatever,” momo chuckles over the phone. “just bring yourself here in one piece. you already have a place?”

“yup,” you breathe, remembering how much you were looking forward to that house. it was supposed to be your home after you've proposed to sana. “i, um, kept it for a while.”

“alright,” momo replied. “i gotta go.”

you then smiled, “okay, see you.”

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momo fetches you from the airport with a silly little sign that read: “WELCOME TO NEW YORK Y/N!” then, she happily shows you around the new york city like a tourist before going home.

“is this it?” momo asks, looking up through her window to see if she was in the right apartment complex.

you nodded and said, “yes, this is it.” you smiled as you got off the car, helping momo unload the luggage. you took out a big bag and a small plastic bag out of your luggage, and gave it to momo who was already smiling with joy. “snacks.”

“you're my bestest friend ever.” she says, quite sarcastically as she loads the stuff back to the backseats of her sedan. “you really sure that you can't spend the night out?”

“i need to deal with the jetlag first,” you explained as you closed your luggage. “plus, i have a meeting tomorrow. i need to deal with that first.”

“okay,” momo smiles and hugs you. “just give me a call whenever you need someone, okay?”

“yes, yes,” you smiled and hugged her back. “you go home now.”

“yup,” she says, going back to the driver's seat. “good night, y/n!”

you smiled and waved at her until she disappeared from the street, as now you're left with your heavy luggage and your stuffed backpack. you get your keycard from your wallet and slowly went up the stairs, having a breath of relief seeing the entrance to go up the complex.

it had an elevator, luckily, it was working, and you pushed the button to the 4th floor. your door was to the left, a huge studio unit facing the street. although it isn't that busy, you really liked it as there were trees, and it was downtown.

god, you wished that sana could live in this beauty with you. the apartment, by your design, had taken inspiration from the 60s, mid century modern at it's very best. you turn on the lights to see the furniture still covered with what you left it.

you quickly remove it to take a seat on the sofa. you couldn't believe just how much it feels this big. it was like someone was meant to be beside you, but now you're left all by yourself.

the big windows show just what's outside. another complex, another window, weirdly, your neighbor's windows were open. you didn't have your glasses on, so you didn't really mind, but there was a woman who held a glass of wine, her hair tied into a bun as she read a book. it was a quiet life, and you were sure of it.

you take out something from your backpack, a little journal for your sketches. you draw the lines of your window, and draw the woman just across you. you don't know her, but you smile at the sight of her just turning pages and drinking her wine. you finished your sketch, smiling, and you passed out on the same sofa.

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sana, after a while of drinking wine and reading, takes a look across the road. it's the first time she sees the lights open from the neighbor's window, and she sees just how big the windows were compared to hers. must've been great to live there as she sees the furniture. it looks like a damn museum in soho.

she doesn't miss the sight of a person, still wrapped up in their most uncomfortable clothes, a brown, long trench coat, dress pants, and a dress shirt; passed out on the sofa. that's how she remembers you sleeping when you've had a bad, excruciating day from your work, and she chuckles at it. she must've been so drunk to think that it was you, so she gets her eyeglasses.

“fuck.” she cursed. she rubs her eyes in disbelief, maybe she's going crazy that now you haunt her. “fuck, this can't be.” she slaps herself, trying to make sense of it all as she hurriedly closes her windows shut.

she knows you've had a couple of apartment complexes in new york way before she ghosted you. she knows that you own several here— one in the upper west, one in soho, and this one, all of it being rented. she was going crazy and filled her wineglass again, trying to relieve her veins.

she couldn't sleep that night without trying to look at the other side. seeing you sleep like that, so uncomfortable and busy. her heart aches as she still knows just how much your forehead creases like that, at just how much she knows your heart sleeps heavy too. she wants to hold you like she always does, and wants you to let it all out on her.

sana cries herself to sleep that night.

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you wake up to the bright sunlight seeping into the corners of your home. you even forgot to take out the lights before you slept so uncomfortably on the sofa. you looked at your watch, seeing that it was already 9 AM, just an hour before your meeting, so you hurriedly stood up, cursing as you pulled down the blinds of the window to have some privacy before you left. you didn't miss how the woman across you had shut her windows down even if she was letting it all open at night. weird.

you then chuckled at the thought and got rid of your other clothes to take a bath and hurriedly made yourself presentable for the meeting.

you just thanked god for the subway system, and how fast you can run. you arrived at the meeting room 10 AM, on the dot, and you immediately took out your laptop to present.

it went well, and now you're reassigned into a team on the 14th floor, working on the same project as you. it's a two year contract with them, so you made a promise to yourself that you'll not slack off about it. well, it's just that you can't. it's a big project and you need to design both interior and exterior.

the same night, since it was a weekend, you decided to get a couple of drinks from the deli just right at the corner of your street. you were already dressed comfortably, and you're now looking at the selection of alcohol in the back of the deli. you can't deny that you've been drinking more now than ever, even when you were partying. you sigh as you get two bottles of smirnoff mule, a staple since you've been spending time here and not finding cheaper-than-water soju.

you went to the cashier and saw a woman getting in, hair falling down to her shoulders, wearing a comfortable pair of slides, with a pair of black rimmed round glasses and one of your favorite hoodies. wait. what?

you look at her again, her back facing you. that mclaren formula one hoodie. it was plain in the front, just having the team’s logo, and it had a huge print of the car at the back. it was a gift from her since she knows just how much you like formula one.

“that'll be $5.28.” the cashier reminds you. “anything else?”

“a pack of marlboro reds too, please.” you smiled, and you heard the woman, whom you think was sana, clear her throat. she knows you've been trying to come clean, and since the four years you've been together, you haven't touched any type of cigarette. she can't bear the feeling that pangs in her chest, knowing that you'll relapse because of her.

“that'll be $22.28.” the cashier says. damn, that expensive? you thought in your head. it was just a fake buy, yeah, you'd put it, but you'll leave it rotting. you become sick at the smell of tobacco in your system.

“have a great night!” you greet as you went outside the deli, waiting for the woman to come out. you don't plan to confront her, but you do plan to get something out of her. you don't care if she'll nag at you, or hit you, or ignore you. you just want her to know you're here and you've found her.

you put a stick of cigarette between your lips, and you pull out your lighter (you keep it as a fidget toy, and you recently put some fluid on it.) you spark it as you saw, at the corner of your eye, sana leaving the deli to go to your street too.

you took a sickly puff out as she passes by, and she coughs loudly.

“what? have a problem with it?” you confronted her. “it’s not like it's your first time seeing me like this, minatozaki.”

you quickly disposed of the cigarette. you hated it already, and it was no use. she stopped in her tracks, hearing her last name come out of your mouth.

“just stop running away.” you chuckled to yourself. “you already know i can never get mad at you.”

“i live at number 14, 4th floor, number 229, the door's always open.” you shouted as she continues walking. you didn't care if you just exposed your room number, or your literal address to everyone. not that they’d care. what's important is that sana does. “i want my hoodie back!”

“well fuck you!” she shouts back, and from that, you can see her tears run from her face. “it's mine now!”

she runs to her apartment, and you observed, it was the one just across yours. you waited until you knew which floor she was on. you knew it the moment the second unit of the third floor opened their lights, and it was the one directly in your direction. you laugh at the realization that she was the woman whom you were drawing the first night you were here.

“god, i can't believe she's still this stubborn.” you say to yourself as you keep smiling your way to your apartment. thank god you have a hundred papers for creating your blueprints, and you lay one out on your drawing table to write ‘give me my hoodie back!’ in big letters, enough for sana to see the next morning when she opens her windows.

days passed. you haven't been opening your window since she still isn't giving you back your hoodie.

────────────────⋆⋅🗽⋅⋆───────────────

“damn, it's dark in here,” momo laughs as she puts down her chinese takeout, seeing your apartment this dim in the afternoon. the only one with a light was your work table, which had most of your blueprints. “i know you hate overhead lighting but don't fuck your eyes up more.”

“yes, i know,” you sigh as you open the lights. “i'm just trying to cut down on the costs.”

“you own the damn building,” momo scoffed as she opened her box. “plus, you have more money than you think.”

“please don't get me to try weed again.” you joked as you also took a box, opening it to smell the most scrumptious chow fan you've ever smelled. “this is enough.”

“yeah, it's great, probably the greatest one around here,” momo smiles as she takes another bite of her food. “sana lives just right across from you then?”

you just nodded as you went to get some water from your fridge. “she just said fuck you.”

“i mean, she would,” momo joked. “but like, that's kinda asshole-y of her to just ignore you.”

“she ghosted me, of course she would ignore me,” you laughed. “no one gets friendly with people they've ghosted.”

“why didn't you like, pull her to you?” momo asked. “you know. like ones in dramas?”

“nothing would ever come out of it either.” you sighed. “plus, i didn't have the guts too. maybe i was so upset that i really just wanted my hoodie back. don't even try to sound me out. i know that you'll say you kissed mina the moment you reconcile. but she didn't ghost you!”

“okay, yes, that's right, but still.” momo holds you by the shoulders to calm you down. “get your girl back.”

“i can't,” you laughed. “i'm so busy that i didn't even remember that i got dumped. honestly, at how busy i am, i might even forget that she lives just right across from me. i haven't called her number, i haven't texted her for days. the last text i sent her was i told her that my detergent was still the same.”

“why the hell would she want to know that?” momo laughs.

“dunno,” you pouted. “she has my hoodie, might as well make it smell like me.”

────────────────⋆⋅🗽⋅⋆───────────────

“i fucking hate that she hasn't even changed one bit,” sana sobs as she confides in her friend's side. “it’s so annoying.”

sana remembers the way you screamed. the way you faked buying cigarettes and taking one stick that you immediately threw as she turned her back against you. the way you called her last name. the way your voice cracked in pain. the way you drew your note with a silly character. it annoys her that you keep on staying on her mind. she was supposed to forget you.

“i'm,” she sobs more, nursing a bottle of some alcohol she got offered with. “so annoyed that i still want her.”

“then get her back,” mina laughs as she hugs sana. “honestly, she'd understand it. like she always would.”

“i don't wanna hurt her anymore,” sana sobs as she takes another sip. “i never deserved her.”

“she pursued you back then,” mina remembered, rubbing her hand across sana's arm to calm her down. “what makes you think that you don't deserve her when she literally wanted you?”

“i just can't.”

“do you still want her?” mina asked.

“yes,” sana chuckles through her tears. “a little too much.”

“then pursue her,” mina whispered. “try to win her back.”

────────────────⋆⋅🗽⋅⋆───────────────

sana kept that in mind. that night, she wanted to go home by herself, and mina let her do so, even if she was too concerned. sana got too annoying and mina just dropped her off by the subway instead.

sana stops by the corner deli to try and see you.

you were at the deli to grab a little snack, and you opened the door to go outside but you almost hit someone, “shit, look where you're going!” your stuff fell to the ground and you heard the person chuckle.

“sorry,” you looked up at the person. “i shouldn't have.”

you realized it was sana. she wasn't standing upright, her outfit looked like it was chilly, and her eyes were almost closing. “sana,” you held her by the waist, trying to get her upright. you pull her close to you as she pulls you by the waist too, her head leaning to your neck. “goddamnit.”

“don't say that,” sana laughs against your skin. “but i get it though.” she slurred her speech. it was probably the copious amount of alcohol she consumed.

“i swear if you ever vomit on me i won’t meet you again.” you've seen it all. she vomited on you the first night you went out and she was too drunk. “i'm serious.”

“i know,” she whined as she hugged you again. “just take me home. i don't do that anymore, baby.”

“stop,” you tried to unclasp her from you, but her hold on you was tight. “i can't walk properly.”

“you do,” she looks down and sees that your steps were completely fine. how the hell is she still this conscious? “please.”

“we're gonna trip.” you chuckled. “get off of me first.”

she did get off of you, but she continued pouting, and you see her tears pooling around her lower eyelids.

“okay,” you took off your jacket and let her wear it, then you carried her with your arms, which took her by surprise and she immediately wrapped her arms around your neck. “don’t think that i'm still head over heels for you,” you warned. “i'm doing this because your feet are fucking swollen.” you were right. she was wearing those heels with such a steep form, and it was inches away from the ground too. you're surprised that she haven't even removed it yet.

she just nods, and her tears fall down. she can't believe that you're not mad. that you're not fuming. that you haven't even refused her yet. you don't hate her.

you take her to her apartment, lay her down on the couch, and you search for a glass to pour some water in. “here,” you handed it to her. “sober up.”

“thanks.” she smiles and wipes her tears.

“don't even,” you said. it hurts her to hear that you're almost monotonous. “where's my hoodie?”

“i’ll return it to you,” sana says as she rests her head on the couch, surrendering her whole drunk body in it. “it's in the wash basket. don't even bother to find it. i promise.”

it was an excuse for you to get her a blanket, which you got from her bed. you saw that her eyes were already closed, and you're even more surprised that she's actually already sleeping. you laid the blanket on her legs, and she pulled it up to consume her whole body with it.

you don't know why, but you watched her sleep. you watched if her eyes also tear up, or if she mumbles your name. you heard it and sana full on sobs, you saw at just how much her hand tightens around the edge of the blanket, how her breath heaved as she mumbled your name.

you don't understand. why does she seem more hurt than you? you're the one she left, and not the other way around. did that drunk curse work that well for her to miss you this much?

you find yourself crying. you just can't bear it so you left, but you didn't miss to tuck her hair behind her ear, and you didn't miss to wipe her tears by the tip of your thumb. you just couldn't bear seeing her this hurt.

────────────────⋆⋅🗽⋅⋆───────────────

sana grunts as she sits up from the couch, feeling her head throbbing against her skull. she was warm, having the jacket on and a blanket. she saw that she had water and hangover pills just on the table where her night lamp was placed. well, fuck.

she looks at her phone hurriedly, wanting to see if she got a new message or a new call from you. she opened her windows and saw a new note saying: drink your meds!

she forgot for a moment that you were there with her last night, that's why she has your black puffer jacket, and that there's a note on the table too. it was your number, and you wrote: “whenever you're ready.”

she just couldn't believe how calm you were. she just can't bring herself to admit that you don't hate her.

her eyes run a tear once more. she doesn't even know why she's this hurt. she chose to leave, didn't she?

────────────────⋆⋅🗽⋅⋆───────────────

sana conquered the fear of texting you first. but after telling that the number she texted with is her active number, you just left her on read.

her day passes by like that, looking at her phone every once in 30 minutes, staring at her phone the whole lunch break, and her heart races everytime she gets a notification, hoping that it was from you.

honestly, she doesn't know what she'd say to you. maybe you were busy, or maybe you just chose to ignore her to pay back what she did. (which, honestly, isn't that bad.)

she pouts, staring at the text. still on read.

sana: are you free this weekend?

she asks. in over a record time, you read it and you reply.

y/n: yeah, why?

sana: i was wishing if we could talk over dinner and hopefully i could give your jacket and hoodie back.

y/n: don't bother to return the hoodie.

sana: why?

y/n: i changed my mind. plus, you technically bought it and you just handed it to me as a gift, right?

sana: yes, but what about your jacket?

y/n: i have three of those. that one's already wearing off and it has holes anyways.

you were honest. you do have three of it in similar styles, sana knows of it, doesn't know why, and you don't even know why.

sana: but what about dinner?

y/n: i can cook 🙂

sana pouts, but she knows you're playing with her to get something out.

sana: please. let me treat you out.

y/n: you don't need to. why?

sana: yes, i don't need to, but i want to.

y/n: then?

sana: i’d talk with you.

y/n: aren't we technically talking now?

sana: look, i just want to spend time with you.

y/n: minatozaki, this is leading to nothing.

sana: please let me treat you out to dinner.

y/n: we're going in circles. why?

sana: i need you to hear me out.

y/n: okay.

sana: 6pm. pontios.

y/n: okay. anything else you need to say?

sana: your jacket doesn't have holes.

y/n: just keep it.

sana smiles. it was such a you thing to do, letting her get away with your jackets in her closet. it's the best thing that keeps her warm, wrapped around the similar woody vanilla scent of your perfume.

────────────────⋆⋅🗽⋅⋆───────────────

the weekend comes quickly, and you were so exhausted to finish checking and doing what seems like thousands of blueprints in a span of a day. you need to clear your schedule for saturday and sunday to finally get some rest. of course, to also finally meet sana.

it's the time where you'd actually find why she left. why she made you cry. why she moved to new york.

you sighed as you put on your best outfit, and went out just before 6pm. you went to the restaurant to see her already waiting for you in a table closed off from the windows, in a more intimate area of it. you looked around and saw the interior, and you guessed that it's sana's favourite. it had the same mid-century feel to it, but it was more of a diner, and it was very bright with the presence of fluorescent light bulbs.

“did you wait long?” you asked as you looked at your watch as you sat down on the sofa right in front of her.

“not at all,” she flashes you a tight lipped smile. “i arrived a couple of minutes ago.”

“good,” you said as the waiter makes their way to your table. “should we order now?”

“yeah, go on,” she says, handing you a menu. “pick anything you like.”

you just hummed and you flipped the menu to every page. apparently, it was an all day breakfast restaurant. most of the meals only consist of either coffee, pancakes, sausages, fried chicken, bacon, and eggs.

“i’d get the chicken platter, please,” you dictated. “plus a can of coke.”

“i’d get the same.” sana closes her menu as well and hands it over to the waiter with a smile.

“so,” you sighed as you adjusted yourself, leaning back on the cushions of your seat. “what am i even here for, minatozaki?”

“do you really want me to make it quick?” she sighs.

“i thought you were ready?” you scoffed.

“i know what to say, yes,” she said. her eyebrows were already meeting in the middle of her forehead slightly. “where do you want me to start?”

“where do you want to start?” you chuckled.

sana knew you were toying with her with your little repetitive questions. “since you wanna play that way,” sana sighs. “i left because i knew you were gonna propose to me.”

your jaw immediately drops to the floor the moment you heard her, but you tried to pull it back before flies could come in.

sana smiles at your reaction. “i didn't want to reject you, so i chose to leave instead. i thought there was nothing else i could do. it was either to reject you and break your heart like that; or break your heart by leaving and ghosting you.”

“okay,” you breathed and collected your thoughts. “why didn't you tell me that?”

“i'm not a party pooper, y/n,” she joked as the food arrived at your table already. “i didn't want to ruin your surprise either.”

“so you surprised me instead,” you joked, eating a slice from your pancakes. “nice one there, minatozaki.”

she sighs under her breath. it was hard for her to process just how much she hates being called by her last name from you. it used to be so sweet. now it's just plain, boring, and hurtful— like a dull knife piercing right through her stupid little heart.

“what i was trying to say,” you said as you gulped on the cola. “is that why didn't you tell me the day before? there was plenty of time for me to blow up my surprise.”

“yes, but it's your surprise,” she sighs as she takes a bite from her chicken. “it’s foolish if i find it out first when i am the one who'll take the surprise, right?”

you smiled at her, “yes, but what made you think that i’ll look at you and love you differently if you say no?”

“because you were so sure of it.” she says, looking at you right in the eyes. “you don't want your expectations to be broken, and that's the first thing i knew about you when we met. i just couldn't let it happen.”

“i just couldn't let myself see you cry because of me.” she sighs, interlocking her hands together as a relief. you see the tears pool around her eyes as she looks down on her untouched pair of fried chicken and waffles.

“okay.” you just took a bite out of your food once more, ignoring the overwhelming feeling in your chest. “is that all of it?”

she just nodded as she sniffled.

“eat up,” you smiled, quite foolishly and teasingly. “you said you wanted to take me out to dinner, right? it ain't fair if i'm the only one actually having dinner.”

sana chuckles to herself. this was how you usually are, trying to ignore the feelings that come from everything.

“but you made me cry still,” you laughed to yourself as you spoke. “you made me drink, you made me lonely, you made me coop myself up at home when i should be celebrating my birthday, made me think so much where did i go wrong when i remembered that i kissed you to sleep. you made me question everything i did from the start, sana. and at some point, you even made me doubt you.”

you're quite surprised that you're not shedding a single tear. maybe it was the relief of getting the point across to the person that you really want to talk with, and getting the answers you wanted for such a long time.

sana realized that you're awfully kind. it hurts for her to hear that there are nights you spent drinking on your own, thinking about what you could have done to get her back.

you hand her your handkerchief, but you can't bring yourself to dry her tears just yet.

she gladly takes it, and she smiles, finally calming down from the heavy feeling. it soothes her that you never lost yourself, even if she left you clueless.

“i'm sorry, y/n.” sana sighed deeply as she wiped her tears down with the soft cotton of your hanky.

you then chuckled again, “what for? are you leaving me again?”

“no,” sana pouts. “i'm just sorry for everything that hap-”

“it's all in the past,” you smiled again. sana missed seeing that, but she felt that something was lacking. “and your food is getting cold.”

“oh, right,” sana then picks up her cutlery and gets into action. she must've been hungry too. “why are you in new york, though?”

“do you want a stupid answer or a good answer?”

“both.”

“i'm tired of finding girls in seoul,” you joked. “and my, supposed to be, our apartment was rotting so i had to stay. plus, i got a two year contract for building a 35-storey office in manhattan. although it's technically a refurbishment project, since it has so many floors it'll probably take some time.”

“oh, that's why…” she then ate away what she was about to say. she knows you were joking from your first statement, but she can't help but think about it.

“i was too busy finishing my job before i can even party, don't worry about that,” you said. “anyways, why new york though?”

“no one knows me here,” sana says as she chews on her syrup drizzled waffles. “although, i did meet an old friend, no one knows me here.”

“hm, okay,” you just nodded. “and the old friend?”

“mina.” she smiles.

“wait, sorry? mina?”

“yeah!” she says, quite amused at the situation. “i think i told you before that i had a friend that went to the states and grew up here too.”

“hm, yeah you did,” you muffled as you were still eating. “do you know her girlfriend? momo?”

“yeah,” sana nodded. “wait. you know momo?”

you just nodded. “she's a friend from college who moved here immediately after getting a good hire from a famous firm.”

“oh, so you know momo.” she laughed to herself. she just can't believe how small the world is, and she ends up always having to meet you. it just seems to her that you'll always find her.

“do you have like,” you looked at her again as you took a sip from the cola. “a job?”

“oh, yeah,” she smiles. “i work at a company and it's just in soho,” she explains. “what about you?”

“i'm in midtown manhattan,” you said. “it's quite terrifying to get lost in the subways, though.”

“you still work late?”

you just nodded, “of course. i can't avoid it.”

“hm,” sana thinks. you work late. you rarely open the windows. you work at the most exhausting part of new york. she clears her throat. “um, do you have a, like…” she hesitates. it's quite the dumb question to ask if you ghosted someone. “girlfriend or a fling?”

“honestly?” you asked in a sharp tone that gets to her ears so well it makes her heart go faster. “i would love to.” you teased. “but, i'm too busy with work, still very stuck up with this one person and that one person happens to be just in front of me.”

sana just watched you eat away the final bites from your food as you smiled to yourself. she just can't figure it out. you were straightforward back then, and it's the same case up until now.

“what if i'm not here?”

“i'm still going to be very busy though,” you said. “so my thoughts really can't escape beyond what i do for work, and you.”

sana, unbelievably so, blushed. “oh.”

“it's kinda scary and amusing, actually,” you said, reflecting on the past few days, weeks, and months. “it's like i'm just thinking of you. when i'm not thinking about how i’d do my work and evaluate my team’s work, i think about if you already had lunch, or if you got late at work, or if you had your morning coffee— you know, trivial stuff like that which i usually ask you.”

“really?” she then beams, the situation making her overly happy. “i, um,” she calms herself down and breathes deep before saying, “think of that too. if you're pissed off because you don't have the right pencil to draw with, or if you got your favorite coffee, what did you eat for breakfast, what do you wanna eat for lunch… stuff like that fills my mind all the time.”

you just nodded. you don't know what to feel about it. you don't even know what to feel about anything that's happening right now. it seems like you really needed her in front of you to explain what she did, but a part of you thinks that this isn't enough. a part of you was still doubtful of it, but a part of you wants to just engulf her in your hug, knowing just how much she hid from you.

she had every right to be scared. you just don't know how she had the heart to leave.

“when i left,” sana sits back on the couch again, sighing deeply. “i don't want you to pity me or anything, honestly i want you to be super angry at me,” she joked. “i hesitated. i didn't like imagining how you'd lose yourself, get drunk, find another girl,” she emits a weary breath. “but then, i flew here and lived by myself as i promised, ignored your calls, your texts— just to find myself still listening to your voice at night, looking at the photos of us to relive those moments that i had with you. i was so stupid.”

“you are,” you said. “but i can't be mad at you.”

“why?”

“i just can't deny the fact that i have a lot of love in my heart for you that it consumes any other feeling that i have in me,” you explained. “i’m fine with it now since you admitted to yourself. i'm sorry too if i got too ahead, sana.”

“you don't need to be.” she smiles. “you were just expecting the obvious.”

“why did you get scared of it, though?”

“i know that you'll treat me right, but there are so many doubts that i had,” she pondered. “but it's mostly on my part. i didn't like seeing myself not being able to commit to you. i hated that at some point, i’ll be the one to leave, so i left before anything worse can happen.”

“okay,” you sighed. “what do you wanna do now?”

sana softly laughs, “ah, well,” she looks down on her food again. “i honestly want to win you back.”

“i'm not a trophy, sana,” you joked. “but then, if that's what you want,” you looked at her, that feeling of spark rising within you as she let her honey brown eyes meet yours. “i’d let you do it. it's not going to be easy though.”

“i know,” sana murmured. “and i'm gonna try my very best.”

you laughed, seeing the determination that rises in her— cheeks flushed, eyes sparkly, just like how you remembered her. “good luck.”

────────────────⋆⋅🗽⋅⋆───────────────

that night was the first time you slept well without alcohol, and sana, as you saw from across the window, slept on the couch comfortably as she watched her favorite tv show. (you bet that she finished the series already, and that she's only rewatching it.)

────────────────⋆⋅🗽⋅⋆───────────────

the morning comes and someone comes knocking at your door, calling your full government name like you're getting arrested for tax fraud.

“yeah, wait,” you rub your eyes, trying to get all the morning dust out of the way. you opened to see sana, smiling like she was the sun. “oh, hi.”

“hello,” she sing-songed. “i just wanted to drop by,” she handed you over a bag. you wondered, one of your eyebrows lifting as you held it. “breakfast. your favorite,” she chuckled as she pats down the stray hair from your sleep. “eat well.”

“nice,” you chuckled, prying the bag open. “have you eaten already?”

“uh, yeah,” she said, nervously palming the back of her neck. “i'm about to go now, actually.”

“are you sure? this is a lot,” you smiled, seeing the big container of your favorite breakfast. “you know i don't eat that much.”

“you know what,” sana laughs. “just tell me if you wanna eat with me.”

“i have extra plates, come on,” you respond, letting her in your apartment. she was resisting at first, stepping away from the door, but then, you showed her the best puppy eyes that she'll always fall for, and she's trapped when you said, “please.”

“okay,” she smiles and comes inside your apartment, leaving her shoes by the step before going in. “looks warm here.”

“hm,” you nodded, taking out the big container out of the bag. “you really cooked, huh.” you saw that it really was your favourite breakfast, one with fried rice, eggs, and spam. it was a simple meal you always shared with her in your apartment before you went to work.

you move to pull out a chair for her, and you get the cutlery from your kitchen. “do you want coffee?”

“yeah, that'll be nice,” she smiles. she doesn't know how weird it feels how you easily go into the routine that you had when you two were still together. it was always like this, your back facing her as you were busy in the kitchen, making sure that her breakfast is great, and that she'll start her day as great as possible. “can i have it i-”

“iced, three pumps of cream, and vanilla.” you recite as you run your espresso machine. “i still don't know how you like your coffee so sweet.”

“well, thanks for remembering that,” sana laughs, glad to know that you still question the amount of sugar to coffee ratio on her drink. “how about you? still a shot of espresso, a pump of creamer, and iced?”

you nodded, funnily so. you didn't expect that you've spent that much time with sana that she knows you, down to your littlest, mundane, and absurd routines.

you smiled at her as you made way to the table, sitting across her like you usually do. for a while, you forget that sana ghosted you for months.

────────────────⋆⋅🗽⋅⋆───────────────

to say that you were sana's love of her life was an understatement. seeing you again, like this, eating your favorite breakfast after not reaching out to you for months makes her throat and eyes burn. it's ridiculous of her to let you live alone, to let you be deprived of her love.

it continues, you two fall back into a simple routine.

sana spends the mornings with breakfast she makes at the crack of dawn and you two share, you fix yourself as sana waits, and you get unexpectedly early at your office.

during the afternoons, you have coffee that she bought in hand, something she's been weirdly doing every now and then, even dropping by to your office. during the night, she fetches you, saying that: “it's gonna be a waste of energy if you go home by the subway, we're literally living across each other.”

occasionally, and during the weekends, sana, if time permits, takes you to restaurants, bars, or parks to ease your mind. new york was huge, and you're surprised she knows it down to a t, and to it's hidden spots.

────────────────⋆⋅🗽⋅⋆───────────────

she knows that the schedule of yours was very hectic. she dreads that more as you spend less time with her, since recently as you held the ground-breaking for the site.

“it was a mini project that they didn't tell me about,” you munched on the churros she bought you before you sat down on one of the steps facing the vast, winding hudson river. “and you know, it made me much busier than i am.”

“you need a raise,” sana laughs. “and 20 leaves.”

“they're giving me a raise,” you laugh as well, finally easing up. “so yeah, but i still became more busy.”

sana sighs as she stares off at the sight. the skyline of new york fades away as the sun starts to set, and the lights of the buildings slowly turn on.

it was a moment. it reminded you that you needed time, whether productive or not.

you just needed time.

“sana,” you then looked at her. “what do you think about coming back together?”

“what do you mean?” sana nervously laughs. she didn't expect for you to say it sooner. it's only been two months since you started reconciling.

“us,” your eyes stared at her honey brown ones like they're the only things you've ever known. “look, i just-”

“i realized that i can’t go a day without you,” you sighed in relief as you then held both of her hands, saying your truth. “i figured that i was thinking too ahead, and i didn't give you time and i ruined that for us. i'm sorry-”

sana then pulls you into a warm, loving hug, “you don't need to be. i'm the one who left, right?”

“yeah, bu-”

“i'm the one who left,” she repeats, trying to sink those words into your head. “and i think i'm not trying my best getting you back just yet.”

“but you are,” you whispered. “i just want you to call me yours again, please.”

“god,” sana lowly chuckled as she ran a hand behind your back, comforting you. “you don't know how much i've been waiting for this, my love.”

you sinked your head into her neck, trying to suppress your feelings as you heard that one phrase you've wanted to hear from her for months. “i love you.”

“i love you too,” sana then kisses your forehead gently as you close your eyes, savoring this little moment in time with her. “i hope i could prove that every day.”

“you don't need to,” you held her hand again and kissed it. “just stay by my side. it'll be enough.”

sana held your cheek with her hand, soft against the surface of it, as she brushed her thumb below your eyelid, something she always does like a little habit. “okay,” she comes closer to meet her forehead with yours, and locks your lips as you two share a longing, electrifying kiss. she smiles, lips inward as you pull away. “i waited for that, too.”

“well, that's just fair.” you then held her hand as she wrapped her arm on your shoulders, letting you lean onto her. you two stared off at the view, just admiring the warmth of the sunset before it gets cold during the night.

“and i’ll always wait,” sana whispered. “i won't get tired.”

you then smiled, now holding the hand that was on your shoulder as you stared off the river in a comforting silence. “as long as you're with me,” you then looked at her. “i won't mind taking time and waiting.”

#twice imagines #twice fluff #twice angst #sana imagines #sana fluff #sana angst

134 notes · View notes

devilfic · 2 days

Note

girl. the honeymoon series. LIVING FOR IT. this is a really like loose request, but could you do like a charity event night? not really sure what to happen but the thought of having to reallllly sell the whole marriage thing to everyone at the event is just quite interesting. thriving rn

❝honeymoon❞

IV. sugar-coating.

parts: previously plot: an ex corners you, bringing up bad memories. bruce offers you super illegal catharsis. pairing: battinson!bruce wayne x gn!reader. cw: arranged marriage, friends to enemies to (fake) lovers, implied history between reader and bruce, angst, eventual fluff, reader has a scummy ex, bruce is allowed to be a little bit chaotic as a treat and so are you. words: 2.8k.

"So. Wayne, huh? How's that going for you?"

You laugh behind your glass, feigning innocence with a light and fluttery "What do you mean?"

Coulson is a family friend, as much yours as he is Bruce's, and even though he's the competition, he treats you and Bruce with as much respect as you could hope for in your line of work. Bonds formed in boarding school tended not to break easily, "It's just... gotta wonder what you did to make it up to him. Last I checked, you didn't even exist to him."

You swallow your champagne, just for something better to do than flinching, "Yeah, well, he found it in his heart to hear me out. Love like that doesn't really go away."

Coulson's eyes narrow for a second. He doesn't fully believe you. In an attempt to steer toward calmer waters, he elbows you in the side, "Must've learned some impressive tricks if it got that skirt-chaser to commit." But calmer didn't mean desirable.

You really don't want to discuss what you and Bruce (don't) do in the bedroom right now, so you steer the conversation a different direction, "And how is your new girlfriend, Coulson?"

He has a lot to say about her. A violinist in the Gotham City Orchestra with two degrees and a tour coming up later this year. He tells you he'll send you and Bruce tickets, tells you that one of the tour dates is in Spain and it will line up with your anniversary next year. The mention of your anniversary makes your stomach knot up a bit; the wedding was still weeks away, and you'd only just gotten on decent speaking terms with Bruce.

If anyone here knew how thin your marriage's facade was, it would be more than an embarrassment. Your mother would waterboard you in your own blood and tears.

It helped that most people didn't have a clue. Sure, there was gossip and the occasional rumor, but it was all for "fun". It never went anywhere, and any whisper that got too big for its britches could be easily stamped out with a little effort.

But Coulson? He was a friend. He'd known you a long time. If anyone were to put weight to a rumor about you and Bruce, it would be him. Which is why you couldn't let him figure you out.

"...For a while there, I swore you and Bruce weren't on speaking terms at all." Your ears catch the last bit of Coulson's rambling, right as he settles into a silent, knowing smile. "Care to catch me up on the rekindling?"

Well, you see, there's this little thing called blackmail- "When the board appointed me as acting CEO, I felt it time to reach out and make amends. It'd been years since we'd even talked, and with him so busy with his projects, we never really saw each other either. I was surprised that he even had the time, so we met up and just talked. About everything. About the company, about his work, about... what happened. It was a little while after the flood, so it just sort of lined up at the right time."

Coulson nods, impressed and seemingly unaware you'd just pulled that out of your ass, "Damn. Near-death experiences really do wonders for the heart. And now you have a wedding coming up." He catches it before you do, the micro-expression of discomfort. You swear his smile gets bigger, "What's that? Don't tell me there's trouble in paradise already?"

"No, sorry. Not trouble. Just stress. Lots of wedding planning and company business at once. I was kind of hoping to get away from it all here, focus my efforts on alleviating others' stresses." You tip your glass in the direction of the giant banner at the entrance that reads, "Hope For Homes: Housing Gotham's Youth One Helping Hand at a Time".

Coulson doesn't take his eyes off you for a second, "Had I known you were ready to settle down, I wouldn't have let Bruce beat me to it."

“I’m sorry?”

Your friend's smile doesn't waver. You feel a chill settling in your chest, a warning that he’d taken control again. You try to casually scan the crowd for Bruce but you find him in deep discussion with some business partners and your stomach twists. He’s turned, he can’t see you. You can’t call for help.

“Ah, you know,” Coulson steps forward, a friendly distance to anyone else, “saw you and Brucie together and just got to thinking about us. You remember, don’t you?” You keep a solid expression, much to his amusement, “Or was I just a step on the ladder too?”

It’s supposed to be a joke. You ought to laugh it off. You do, stiffly, pressing your sweating glass to your inner wrist to ground yourself, “We were… 17. Weren’t we?”

“The first time, yeah.”

“How could I forget?”

“You did always like Bruce better.” Coulson comes closer. He’s close enough now that anyone would think you were just two childhood friends gossiping, reminiscing on your youth and laughing all about it. Coulson keeps up a pretty smile even as your heartbeat accelerates, “Always worried about him. Always running after him. He didn’t even give you the time of day.”

You keep smiling, “He was angry. I understood-“

“Bullshit,” and he says this so loud that a few people turn and look, but with such a joyful expression that they don’t look long, “you were obsessed with the guy! Couldn’t stand the idea of him knowing what you really are.”

Your blood curdles. You know you should correct him, but your jaw is locked tight.

"That's okay. Bruce is... fickle. One day he's in love with you, the next you're a bug on a windshield. You're no bug now, are you?"

Now he's pushing it. The hand that captures your chin is lightly scented with cardamom, what should smell pleasing and sexy and disabling. It should sweep you into familiar arms, whisk you off into a whirlwind affair that gets the whole party talking. It should spark controversy. It should make you excited to ruin your mother's plans.

Your heart pangs as you remember the look on Bruce's face. Standing in the hall, one hand on the door to the library, yours and your mother's faces illuminated in flickering candlelight. You must've looked like a monster to him the way he fled-

You grab his wrist and tug, peppering a laugh in as if this is all just one big joke, "Let go."

Coulson's eyes spark alight, "I like you the way you are. You know what you want."

"I am not a gold-digger."

"But you are. Even if mommy's pulling the strings, you like being pulled. Only someone with something to gain would play along."

He'd looked at you once like you'd hung the sun in the sky, and now you were the devourer of light. You had consumed it, put out its burning devotion in one fell swoop. And then nothing. As if you were nothing before and would never be anything after. You were nothing as he told you, in no uncertain terms-

"Coulson, let go."

"I wouldn't mind, you know. Brucie is too soft for you. My girlfriend, you know, love her to death, pretends she's not in it for the money. People like that? They come into our world and think that we don't see how it changes them. How they're driven by it just like the rest of us are. She thinks she has to prove to me that she's different. You don't have to. You're committed, I respect that. But it doesn't have to be Bruce."

Your hands tremble at your sides. Almost more than you've ever wanted anything in your life, you want to give him a shiner that would put you out of high society. Your dominant hand curls into a fist, delighted by the idea.

You go to bat off the hand that touches your hip, but when your skin meets theirs, you recognize it isn't Coulson's. You feel the coolness of their ring against your sweating palm and almost sag into it, "I leave you alone for one second, and vultures descend." Bruce places a cool, gentle kiss to your temple. His lips hover there as he turns ever so slightly towards your ex. Coulson releases your chin. "Coulson. How's Lydia?"

You shouldn't delight in the way Coulson tightens up as much as you do, "Bruce! Good to see you. She's fantastic. Tour starts later this year. You lovebirds should come."

"It's a shame she couldn't make it."

"Oh, you know how it is. I'm still in good company. Right?" Coulson turns to you, winks. His smile is rigid.

When others are around, Bruce would snap back into a Wayne: all propriety and good will. You take a look at his expression and it is unreadable. There's a faint smile there, but nothing else he gives away. He is studying Coulson quite intensely though. You don't think he's blinked in a minute.

His eyes flicker down in fake-bashfulness, "I should thank you for that. You know once the board starts talking numbers, they can't stop. Not even for a good cause." Coulson nods politely along, half-listening, "You did good seeking this one out instead. I'm sure you've heard more than enough about numbers after this past month."

It was a simple statement. Most of the people in this room had been spending their days stuffed into board meetings for the end of the fiscal quarter, talking about finance, watching the stock market, money and more money... but it was the bit at the end that did it.

Coulson's eye twitches just so. He hesitates on asking but just can't help himself, "How do you mean?"

Bruce's smile takes on a patronizing color, "Oh, the boys and I were just discussing... sorry, I thought... I assumed it was public knowledge by now, forgive me." He laughs, just a touch awkward enough that it looks like he didn't mean to say anything at all. Now Coulson's smile is falling.

Even you are curious.

Coulson crosses his arms, hugging himself, "It was... a minor error reallocating funds. Nothing more. It isn't public knowledge because it's been handled. Who told you about it?"

"Has it? Been handled, I mean."

You glance between the two of them. For the first time since he'd come over, Bruce looks back at you.

Coulson clears his throat, "It has. Anyone saying otherwise must not have anything better to talk about."

Bruce hums. His mouth falls from your temple to your cheek, placing another kiss there, then another behind your ear. The hand on your hip moves to close around your neck, holding you close so not a word slips out of the space between you and him, "Let's go."

You keep your eyes on Coulson's, watching the gentle flicker between annoyance and politeness. You throw in a giggle for good measure, "Sure thing."

Bruce peels back from you, acknowledging Coulson with little more than a nod, "Good seeing you, Coulson. I'd stick around longer but I think I'm gonna steal them home, if you don't mind."

"Not at all! I envy how much you two are obsessed with each other, truly." Coulson sips his champagne and in a bitter tone, shifts his focus to you, "Think on what I said, hm?"

The nerve.

Bruce is whisking you toward the front doors without giving you a moment to respond. He kisses you more, leans into you with an arm thrown around your shoulders and a giddy smile as he sets his barely-touched champagne on a waiter's tray.

It isn't until you two are outside by the curb that you break your silence, "Thank you."

Bruce doesn't fully acknowledge you with his body, even as his arm remains slung about you, helping keep the chill of the night off you. He sends off a message for your driver, "What for?"

That was right. You'd never actually gotten to talk to Bruce about Coulson, "He... he was questioning the marriage. Questioning if you were the right fit for me. Saying that maybe I'd be better off with someone who understands me," you grit the next part out, "the real me."

"And?"

You look at him. He's watching cars pass as your eyes prick with tears. "I don't think he understands me at all. He never did."

He appraises you out of the corner of his eye, "Could've told you that years ago."

"You wouldn't even give me the time of day four months ago."

You've got him there. You're shocked to find that he isn't annoyed, or defensive, or even ignoring you. He sucks his teeth and shrugs. Presses the bottom of his shoe into an old cigarette on the sidewalk, snuffing out a flame that had died a long time ago. "You were going to hit him. I saw you." You feel heat crawl up your neck as you remember. "I don't know what he said, but he would've deserved it."

"I... couldn't. You know I couldn't."

Bruce turns up his nose as if he's smelled something foul, "It would've felt good, though."

"Yes."

The two of you wait there, just wobbling in the wind, watching cars go by as music and chatter and people flutter out of the ballroom behind you. You don't know what you're waiting for, but you can indulge yourself once in a while. If Bruce wants to stand on the street with his arm around you doing nothing, then maybe you ought to take the time to do nothing.

A few minutes pass before Bruce releases you, nodding for you to follow him up the street. You do, even confused.

He stops right in front of a bright red convertible, a shiny and expensive thing, parked just far enough out of the way that the music is fainter here. "C'mere," Bruce instructs, walking around the front of the sports car, and you follow him, watching your step lest you fall prey to a puddle, "hold this."

He removes the handkerchief from his front suit pocket and lays it over your open palm, much to your bewilderment. Then, reaching into the inside of his jacket, he drops a batarang into your hand.

"Bruce-!" You instinctively close your hand around the thing to hide it, thankful that his handkerchief kept you from slicing your palm open, "what are you-"

"One tire is a spare. Two is a tow."

"Have you been drinking? Like actually?"

You're startled by the grin he gives you, "If we stand here all night, someone'll catch us."

You go to argue when you recognize something hanging from the car's rear view mirror. A pair of dingy, fuzzy dice. Dice you've seen before in older, just as expensive cars. This is Coulson's car.

You grab Bruce by the arm and turn him to you, "Are you insane?"

"It's better than punching him."

The batarang weighing in your hand feels a little lighter at that.

"Couldn’t stand the idea of him knowing what you really are.”

Who Coulson thought you were wouldn't slash the tires of a backup option. They'd be nice, wait it out, play the game for maximum benefit. Jump ship at the first sign of trouble. They wouldn't risk making enemies. They'd let their mother keep pulling their strings.

You sink the batarang into the first tire's sidewall sharp and quick. If Bruce is curious as to how you know how to slash tires, he doesn't ask. He moves beside you and blocks onlookers from seeing what you're doing. When you move onto the next, the entire left side of the car is beginning to sink toward the ground.

Bruce confiscates the batarang from you and quickly tucks it back into his suit pocket, calmly walking you back down the street to where your ride is waiting.

As he is holding the back door open for you, you turn to look up at him and find your breath catching at the still present grin on his face. You haven't seen him this happy to be alone in your presence in a while. It feels... familiar. He meets your eyes and you're reminded of a younger you. A you that could kiss Bruce with all the bubbling adrenaline in your veins. A Bruce that would let you. A Bruce that thought you hung the sun in the sky.

That grin of his softens but doesn't fully go anywhere. You drink it all in. You don't know when you'll see it again.

Bruce touches the small of your back as a taxi whips by, driving cool air up into your faces and breaking the moment. You indulge in the touch for as long as he lets you.

taglist: @yikes-buddy @alexxavicry @theclassicvinyldragon @marina-and-the-memes @angxlictexrs @moonlightreader649 @thescarletfang @navs-bhat @yehet-moi-ohorat @bluestuesday

#bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne scenarios #bruce wayne fic #bruce wayne #batman x reader #batman scenarios #batman fic #the batman #battinson x reader #battinson #dc #mjwrites #bw; honeymoon

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wood-white-writer · 2 days

Text

“Didn’t mean to make your heart Blue” [10/…]

OPLA! Buggy x F!Reader

"You're the one, You're all I ever wanted. I think I'll regret this."

-Mitski, "Your Best American Girl"

Pairing: Buggy the Clown (live action) x F!Reader

Summary: You were an apprentice of Gol D. Roger’s crew in your youth, long before his eventual demise. Along with the Red-Haired Shanks and Buggy, you were a formidable trio; the embodiment of a new generation of pirates yet to come. But times changed, and so did you and your friends.

The past echoes behind you, as does the uncertain future that lies ahead. Where you go from this point on, you'll have to be quick about making your decision. There is unrest in the waters, and not everyone knows how to swim.

Warnings: fem!reader, LA!Verse, slight canon divergence, morally grey reader, mentions of violence and blood, Buggy being a simp, flashbacks

A/N: .... Half a year later, and an update. As I've mentioned several times already, I'm sorry for the delay. A lot of things have happened these past couple of months, work has been hella hectic, and I'm moving into a house next month. This chapter is not too long, but I hope it'll do until the finale. If you notice any grammar mistakes, no you didn't.

It's tough to have so much love in your heart but nowhere to put it. It festers in your body, churning until it sours and rots into something unspeakably ugly.

You try not to remember, but sometimes your mind possesses a will of its own; sadistic in nature, taunting you with images of events you wish would leave you be.

You recall that day. You see images of it flash through the synapses in your brain on more than a few occasions; twisting and knotting until they form an enlarged image of what you have dubbed the day you were acquainted with true pain.

It was a rainy day, not even a month after Rogers departed from the world of the living. The winds were picking up, the ship was rocking like she intended to knock you off balance and leave you at the mercy of the waves.

Even still, you refused to let go.

The tension between Shanks and Buggy was palpable through your fingertips for a while by then, the reasons behind which were entirely unknown to you. The way they looked at each other was vehemently acrimonious, yet you had no clue as to what had detonated this rift.

Maybe you didn’t want to think about it?

Maybe you were so desperately naive as to believe that things would stay the same, even when it was plain to see that they wouldn’t.

Buggy and Shanks had always been … at odds with one another, but never in a way that struck you strange before. They were simply like that, for as long as you’d known them. Their rivalry was benevolent in nature, just boys being boys, pirates being pirates.

Not that day.

You had been talking to Shanks on deck, moments before it happened. The subject of your conversation has long since evaded your memory, but that’s all you did. Conversing.

Then, Buggy was there, only that he wasn’t there either. There was something different about the bright blue eyes you used to hold in such high regard. They were cold, inexplicably hostile.

Foul.

There was rage in his irises, and that had been beyond the kind you were acquainted with. It was scorching, tenfold sharper than the kind you received from your foes.

Only that he wasn’t one of your foes.

It was Buggy.

Your Buggy.

And you were on the receiving end.

“You’re going with him, aren’t you?!” He demanded in such a way that you felt like it wasn’t him at all. An impostor.

Whether it was the surprise or the shock that ensnared you, you didn’t answer at first.

“ANSWER ME, DAMNIT!”

“Buggy…” your voice was hushed, scarcely making your vocal cords vibrate with each syllable. “What are you—?”

“I saw it, so don’t bother denying it!”

He stomped over to you, and it felt like the planks beneath his feet were about to break. “Just tell me! Tell me that’s what you’re going to do! Just get it over with!”

You tried to reach for him, intertwine his fingers with your own; a safety line amidst a storm. He never rejected the gesture before, but when your digits fell upon his soft skin, he yanked them off like your touch was molten lava.

His limbs were quivering, hands knotted to fists, burning with heat yet trembling with cold at the same time.

Then, he said three words.

Three words that would come to haunt you for the next two decades to come.

“I hate you,” he snarled. “I wish we’d never even met. Be with him if that’s what you fucking want! What do I care?”

“Buggy—“

For a moment, you didn’t know how to breathe.

How to blink.

How to feel.

You had been stabbed before. Burnt. Slapped. Stabbed. Whipped. Tortured.

Long before Rogers brought you with him, you thought yourself well-acquainted with all the pain the world could provide. It marred your bones, painted your flesh, scarred your skin. The indents still stained your arms and legs, your face, yet nothing could compare to the agony that followed Buggy’s words.

Your heart felt hollow; submerged in neck-deep waters with no bottom in sight.

“Buggy,” the corners of your eyes were stinging, yet you could not recall if you were crying or not. The feeling was a foreign one, so much so that you had no way of recognizing the sensation.

He left after that; turned his back and walked away, and it was the last time you ever saw him in the flesh.

The next couple of years following that incident were blurry, you can’t remember much of it. It was as though your brain decided to dismiss those memories in an act of self-preservation.

You remember staying with Shanks for a time, whether loyalty or self-preservation, it didn’t matter. You stayed until just the mere sight of him rendered your guts to stones.

You had no reason to resent him. He was good, among the best, but he could not provide a cure for your affliction, so you decided to leave the Red-Haired Pirates.

Shanks never begrudged you.

After parting ways with him, it didn’t take you long enough to establish a crew of your own, and a name. “Cross-Hairs”, the moniker you replaced with your real one. It’s been so long since anyone acknowledged your actual one, it’s as if it never existed.

Some people saw a strong woman with enough broken bones on her record to know she would ensure their survival just as much as she could guarantee their demise, yet they still placed their bets on it.

Thus, the Cross-Haired Pirates came to fruition. Escaped convicts, thieves, general rogues, but efficient people in their own rights.

They feared you as much as they respected you. Your crew was among the most loyal people you’ve ever met.

If you told them to bark, they’d bite.

If you commanded them to kill, they’d do so without question, but they’d still leave their lives in your hands. They were your pack of loyal hounds, but you were a wolf in their ranks. Your say was the last of theirs.

You don’t regret letting them go. You had nothing more to offer them after you’d found a reason to stay in Foosha Village. Whatever violence remained in the world; they could find it in your absence.

Some of them chose to disagree with your decision, demand that you remain their Captain; their checks would never run empty, but they were silenced quickly enough with the swing of your blade.

You’re not proud of the person you were, yet you could credit your survival to her.

Blood, bones, tears, and pain, it never mattered to you, yet it granted you a superior seat on the food chain.

You became the beast haunting everyone’s dreams. The shadow in their path.

Even so, the pain of other people could not relinquish your own.

You burned every day and every second for twenty years, so you turned the world to ashes in kind.

———

Long ago, Cabaji found his captain on deck one night with a bottle nursed against his sternum, his back against the railing, and his knee propped up to rest his head on. He was drunk, and although it wasn’t an unusual occurrence on its own, it was still unnerving.

“Captain, you alright?”

“‘m fine,” Buggy answered tightly, lolling his head back and forth. It was dark outside, no moon, yet the first mate could spot the redness across the Captain’s cheeks. “What t- time is it?”

“Just past midnight.” Cabaji frowned at the pathetic display, and with some hesitance, crouched down so he could put a finger on the clown’s forehead. Holy shit, what a fever. “Captain… You’re burning.”

“Burning?!” Buggy wheezed, as if he’d been told the world’s funniest joke. He threw his arm out, bottle raised high, and repeated: “Burning? Oh, that’s just great! I never took you for a jester, Cabaji! That title’s usually reserved for yours flashy truly! You tryin’ to upstage your captain or something?”

“No, Captain.” His right-hand man lightly put his fingers on the clown’s forehead again, mindful of not letting them linger lest he wanted to lose them. “You’re seriously burning up. How long have you been out here?”

“Five minutes, an hour, fuck, twenty years perhaps!” Buggy took another sip of the half-empty bottle in his hold. He couldn’t tell what it was, but it did wonders for his mind. His troubled, asymmetrical library of a brain whose caretaker had long since abandoned their charge.

The jester leaned the back of his head against the hard surface of the railings, tipping the bottle carelessly to the side so that its content could spill onto the wooden floor without any concern. It stained his pants; he'd reek for days, but there was no urgency in ridding himself of the splotch. “How can I burn when there is no sun out, Cabaji? Answer me that.”

“I don’t understand… it’s the middle of the night, the sun will be back tomorrow.”

“MEH! WRONG!” He continued to laugh with no sense of humor. No joy. No nothing. Just hollow breaths meant to mimic his trademark sound. With no short amount of effort on his part, he almost tripped himself trying to get up to his feet.

His next words almost struck the first mate as … hollow somehow.

“The sun stopped shining long ago.”

———

You can’t sleep, but it has nothing to do with the added weight on your abdomen.

Buggy, even with his entity body stripped from him, feels heavy and sleeps soundly, and he snores. You can't help but marvel at the view, mindful of your movements as you do.

He looks to be at peace, completely so. Content. You'd think that he'd be a bit more wary considering he's currently stuck on a ship with people who want nothing more than to throw him overboard, yet here he is.

He's here.

With gentle hands unbeknownst to you, you carefully pry him off of you and settle him back down once your body’s out of the hammock.

He can rest, you think, and he does so like a newborn.

Even with your body no longer attached to him, you can’t help but marvel at the sight. His eyes are closed, breathing even, as though he’s completely at ease with the world. Light as a feather, you tug a strand of hair away from his eyes and resign yourself to a night of wandering to ease your nerves.

The air on deck is cold. You find Ussop leaned across the steering wheel, sound asleep. You have half a mind to scold him for his negligence, but the other half remind you that in essence, he’s still just a kid. He should rest as well.

So, you find a blanket and carefully pull it over him, hoping that the cold won’t catch him as easily as Arlong’s men probably will at one point.

The waters are calm as you lean over the railings to observe them. The moon isn’t full, but it still dons a soft light across the waters. You relish in the ambience the night sky grants, finding serenity in it all.

“What’re you doing up?”

You snap your head down to find Buggy’s head poised next to your arms, having hopped over to you on the railing. He must’ve been uncharacteristically quiet, or maybe you had been uncharacteristically caught off-guard.

He looks tired, but not disoriented as he props himself closer to you. If he’s moody from the lack of sleep, he doesn’t voice it.

“You’ll fall off,” you warn him.

“You can still swim, can’t you?” He points out.

“What makes you think I’ll jump after you?”

“Won’t you?”

You glance back down at him, and you can vaguely spot an ounce of sincerity in his eyes; a genuine question that conceals the deep-rooted vulnerability underneath. It’s a rare look on him, or maybe it’s the hole of light in the sky playing tricks on your brain.

The two of you say nothing to each other for a while, but your eyes never shy away from each other. To be honest, you have no idea where this … this is headed. You’re not sure what to do about it either. Twenty years has left a gaping hole in your chest, akin to a supernova that swallows everything around it.

Turns out it will still consume any scraps of your youthful affection too, and you can’t tell if it fills the hole up or further deepens the void. You’re not sure you want to know.

“You should head back inside,” you finally say. “It’s cold outside.”

“So what?”

“Being a head surely leaves you at a disadvantage against the elements, does it not?”

If he had shoulders, he’d shrug, but he makes a pretty good imitation of it with just his head alone. “Dunno, but I don’t care.”

“You don’t want to catch pneumonia and die or something, do you?” I

t wasn’t meant as a joke at first, but the moment he hears it, a snnnrrrrrk develops into full-blown laughter that’s a hair width away from waking your crew members.

You don’t know what possesses you, but hearing him laugh like this, so genuinely, conjures a laugh of your own. It’s more hushed and subtle in comparison to your companion, but it’s there and it feels so strange to have it erupt from your chest.

When was the last time you laughed?

After a while, your combined laughter gradually quietens and when you look at Buggy next, you see him with eyes the size of plates, like he couldn’t believe what he just witnessed. Not in an alarming way, but in … adoration. Just unadulterated, complete awe.

For some reason, it pains you to have him look at you like this. After all this time. So, you turn your head back to the sea and let your gaze linger there again. You’re reminded that, like the waves, you can’t go back to how it used to be.

“When you’ve retrieved your body, you can go.”

Buggy freezes. "... What?"

"Once you get your body back, you can leave. I'll tell the crew you disappeared."

It'll be easier for the both of you, you justify. He can get back to being Captain Buggy, and you can go back to being ... someone.

You're no longer a captain, and you have no interest in playing the part again. He'll have his freedom, and you'll have your contentment in knowing that you have once more gotten to look him in the eyes.

It’ll hurt, but pain is an old friend.

He doesn't say anything for the longest time, but you can hear the cogs churning in his brain. "You mean ... You don't want to go with me, after all this time?"

You glance over your shoulder to the door to the kitchen area. "I ... Care much for the boy, and I know you tend to carry grudges. I don't intend to be involved with that."

"You don't have to be!" Buggy insists, almost urgently, like he's afraid you'll leave on the dot. "You can stay with me, and whatever business I have with the rubbery pri-... I- I mean, the kid, I'll keep it to myself."

You spend a second looking down at him, scrutinizing him of any signs that he's being false, before you avert your gaze back to the waves. Truth be told, you've never thought much of what to do once you left Luffy's crew.

As far as you're concerned, you don't have anywhere to go back to. Maybe you'll return to Foosha village, pay Makino a visit, or maybe you'll become a wayward at sea. Make coin where you can, visit Shanks sometime?

But joining Buggy?

Now that's a thought you never believed would cross your head for a long time.

"I won't be a good circus performer," you admit.

He makes a pfsssssh sound, tongue waggling out of his mouth. "'Course you'd be! The strongest woman in all of East-Blue! People will bankrupt themselves just to see you in action! C'mon, just think about it!"

You bury the urge to remind him that if anyone will commit any bankrupting, it'll be him. Joining Buggy's crew, after so long? A part of you thinks that it can open a window of opportunity to provide closure. Grant him a chance to make up for his misdeeds.

Another part reminds you that the pain he once brought caused you two decades of misery, so why give him the opportunity to attempt the same once more? In all your life, only he’s ever possessed the power to render you so small.

You might be among the strongest pirates across the seas, but someone always held you by a leash; dragged you, pulled you into every direction, and demanded your obedience. Rogers freed you from the leash altogether, but Buggy remains the only person you freely gave your leash to. You gave it to him, and he let it go.

Are you willing to hand it back to him, knowing what happened last time?

How does the saying go?

Bite you once and twice, shame and all that.

"We should head back inside."

———

Coco Village, you think, is a lonely place; void of life; desolate. It reminds you of where you originally came from before Rogers brought you onto his crew all those years ago. A hollow replica of how it used to be.

A feeling of cold stretches across your skin at the memory of it all, like a layer of frost having come back to torment you.

You glance around at the halfway-demolished huts, and you see its denizens with nothing behind their eyes. Whatever hope once resided in their hearts abandoned them long ago. It brings you no joy, but it doesn’t necessarily bring you any melancholy either.

It is not your sorrow to bear.

Nojiko’s cabin, on the other hand, seems like a pleasant reprieve. It’s not much, but judging by the delicate way she handles herself and her equipment, it’s a home.

A home hanging on a thread from Arlong’s pointy nose.

While Sanji’s helping Nojiko clean the plates, you’re seated across from Usopp, with Buggy’s head poised between you on top of the table. Wherever Luffy and Zoro are outside, you’re certain they’re concocting some sort of plan to get Nami out.

It’ll be the first time he’ll have to make up a thorough plan, rather than making it up as he goes as he’s done so far.

You’re curious as to how it’ll go, though you’ll follow nonetheless. Your presence here with them depends on whether he’ll make it, and if he does, you’ll finally part ways.

You love Luffy, almost more than you’ve loved anyone else in your entire life. You were there to watch him grow, you were there to patch him up, to make sure he had food when Makino couldn’t afford to spare any.

You love his hair, his eyes, the way his smile all but brightens up any dark corner in any room. You love him so much so that you’ll leave the moment you know he doesn’t need you anymore.

The thought, while maintaining a rooted spot in your brain, lessens your appetite and causes you to play with the food on your plate. It’s long since grown cold in your negligence.

Suddenly, a loud "BOOM!!" promptly snaps you out of your mindscape and back to reality. Buggy cackles, and although you're not the intended target of his joke, it still irks you to some limited extent.

"Can you just be quiet?"

"Aw, come on. Where's the fun in that?" There's a malicious glint in the clown's eye. "Do you really think your little toys can get through the skin of a fish-man?"

You have to commend Usopp for his resilience. "These are smoke bombs."

"Smoke. That's rich..." Trailing off, Buggy eyes your meal with the subtlety of a puppy looking for scraps, licking his chapped lips. "Makes me think of how long it's been since I've had any smoked fish."

You spare him a wayward glance, fork ceasing its massacre of the flesh on your plate. Usopp notices the change almost instantaneously as he tinkers with his makeshift bomb.

The reply from the slingshot is quick. “Don’t give it to him.”

“As opposed to what?” You quirk an unbothered eyebrow. “Let Sanji’s meal go to waste?”

“Eat it yourself, then! You’ve hardly had any!”

“I’m not particularly hungry at the moment, and it’s either the trash or the clown.”

Usopp scoffs. “Like there’s a difference.”

“HEY! I’M RIGHT HERE, ASSHAT!”

Sanji perks up at the commotion and looks at you from over his shoulder, hands still wet from the washing. “I do hope you’re not discussing the possibility of discarding my food. Not when Nojiko has been so lenient as to lend us the necessary ingredients?”

Usopp shakes his head. “It’s worse! She wants to give it to the fucking clown!”

Sanji glances at you, and he speaks in that soft tone he primarily reserves for the women in his company. “Was my meal not to your satisfaction, Madam?”

You incline your head to him in a way that’s meant to convey approval. “It was, make no mistake of it, but I’m afraid that my appetite is rather lacking at the moment.”

Buggy looks between the two of you, and his mood sours considerably. It’s as though a fire is burning in the back of the room, and the scorch threatens to incinerate the furniture and all the people inside. He halfway hopes it will, but although his Devil Fruit has granted him a plethora of powers people can only hope to dream of, prokinetics are evidently out of his reach.

No one notices, however.

Then, a minute goes by, and Sanji finally shrugs. “As much as I can’t condone Usopp’s anger, I can’t condone a good meal being wasted. Do with it as you please, my lady.”

Buggy guffaws while Usopp pales, but your face stays the way it’s always done. If anyone were to notice the way you discreetly inch the plate towards Buggy, they keep their opinions to themselves.

If Buggy stares at you like you hung the moon and the sun in the sky, you keep your observations to yourself.

You don’t say a word, but you want to say a lot.

You wish to say more than you've ever said before.

But you don’t.

———

Taglist: @kurinhimenezu, @carpinchootaku, @ay0nha, @teh-vampire-bunny, @lokiscure, @internationalsuper-spy, @detectivesparrow , @yuriwk , @notyuralycat , @angeli-fucking-cat , @machinema7k , @shuujin, @avatar-lover, @gingernut1314, @autumn-slaves. @marvelouskatie, @floristoflillys, @dizzyenby, @redpool, @deliri-yum22, @aemondsb1tch, @ackroxia, @gayandfairycore, @knightsfavoriteprincess, @asterizee, @aamethyst23, @lizzie1107, @cyberwears, @heylookliisten, @f41k47, @beep-beep1, @crimsonflameproxy, @unpopular-sober-thoughts, @rayleeya, @timeladyrikaofgallifrey, @fanshavegottensotoxic, @fluffybunnyu, @sirenmelody23, @neenieweenie, @kassandrasowl, @matthewjstarling, @fisshil

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#buggy the clown #buggy x reader #one piece live action #one piece x reader #buggy the clown x reader #one piece #buggy one piece #buggy x you #buggy the clown fanfiction #buggy x female reader #DMTMYHB #Didn't mean to make your heart Blue

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hazbinhotelie · 3 days

Note

Would you ever consider doing Alastor with a Mobster Reader?

(I have no idea how this would work and I don’t feel like doing proper research as to how the Mob works so here’s my best try)

“Don’t move,” I said, pressing the barrel of the gun to the radio demons head.

“Oh, this gives me Deja vu,” he said lightly. He chuckled and tried to look at me but I held him firmly in place.

“I said not to move,” I growled, keeping him pinned. “Or I’ll have to shoot.”

“Have to? You say that as if you don’t want to kill me,” he noted. He tried to catch a glimpse of me through his peripheral vision but couldn’t. “I find that hard to believe.”

“I’d rather not stain my clothes with blood,” I replied, nonchalant. “This is my favorite outfit.”

“Ah, but surely there must be another reason,” he said with a grin. In an instant he was gone, as if he’d disappeared into the shadows. I narrowed my eyes, then jumped when I felt a tap on my shoulder. “Over here, darling.”

“That was rude,” I said, lowering my gun. We both knew I never even stood a chance against him. I was wondering why he was still here.

“Like I said, Deja vu. I didn’t appreciate the memories that brought back,” he said, radio static crackling louder. His neck seemed to bend into an unnatural position, the alleyway we were in growing much darker and more eerie. I shuddered. “Now, tell me, who in their right mind would send an average sinner demon like yourself after an overlord like me?”

I froze, hesitated for a moment, then told him. I had nothing to lose. I wasn’t the most loyal of people, and I didn’t feel like being killed by the cannibal standing before me. If I ever returned to my boss, I’d get a death that didn’t involve being eaten or ripped to shreds.

“Ah,” he said with a nod. All the malice in the atmosphere lifted, and he returned to normal. “I’ve heard of that group. I’ll be sure to stop by and give them a proper warning for messing with the radio demon.” He paused for a moment, thoughtful as he looked at me. I still had my gun in hand, but I was making no attempt to harm him. “You’re a new member, aren’t you? You must be awfully skilled for them to send fresh meat like you my way.”

“I..” I fumbled, not knowing what to say. Was he going to kill me? Why hadn’t he killed me the moment I put the gun to his head? What did he want, why had he kept me alive? “I am new, yes.”

“Mm,” he said. “Then you haven’t sold your soul to them, have you?”

“No,” I replied truthfully. I put my gun away, not seeing a point to holding it anymore. “I haven’t.”

“Good. I have a proposal to make,” he said with a grin. He walked up to me and linked our arms, walking me down the street with him as if we were friends.

“A… proposal?” I asked, giving him a look. My other hand hovered over the holster for my gun. I had no shot of killing him, but if I was in danger I’d like to at least put up a fight. There were also other demons and sinners, too. They could attack at any moment, and I wasn’t sure the radio demon would keep me from harms way.

“I think we should make a deal,” he said cheerfully. “You give me your soul and I won’t kill you.”

“That’s not a particularly good deal,” I noted, raising an eyebrow. “You’re not the only one capable of hurting me. A random demon could kill me, an imp could kill me. Hell, a dedicated duck could kill me. You aren’t that special.”

“You make a good point,” he said. He laughed to himself, though I didn’t know why. “Hm, you are a level headed one, aren’t you? I do think you’d make a good addition to my collection.”

“Your collection?”

“Yes,” he said. He snapped his fingers and spindly creatures emerged from the shadows, trailing after us. They looked sewn up and jagged, unlike any demon I’d seen before. “These are my shadow creatures. This is what happens when I receive a soul but have no use of it anymore. It’s also what happens when I’m in a bad mood and some poor sinner happens to upset me.” He eyed me, a predatory grin on his face. “A poor sinner who was only doing their job as apart of the Mob, a poor sinner like you.”

“Ah,” I said, understanding. “That’s just another threat, though. If you were really in such a bad mood, you’d have done it the moment I attacked you. You’ve kept me alive, you’re walking with me now. You’re either enjoying yourself, getting some sort of entertainment from seeing me nervous, or you’ve got something in mind that you’d like to use me for. That’s why you want to make a deal, isn’t it?”

“You’re observant,” he stated. Dodging the question. He dismissed the unsettling shadow creatures and we continued our walk. “Still have your hand by your gun, too. You’re smart enough to avoid conflict when you can and try to appease me, but you’re never going down without a fight. Interesting. Interesting indeed…” he muttered to himself as we walked, sinners jumping out of our way. I wasn’t comfortable around him, but he was intriguing. “What if I changed the rules of the deal? Made it a bit more fair and beneficial to you?”

“I think that’d be good,” I said, keeping a poker face. “What exactly would I gain?”

“I’ll protect you from any serious harm, especially by imps, everyday sinners, and the like. You’ll have a nice place to stay, and I’ll ensure your boss and associates don’t come after you. You’ll be free from the mobs grasp, and completely safe from them,” he said, still thinking.

“And food? Clothing? Possessions?” I asked, tilting my head inquisitively.

“I will ensure you have the means to eat a proper meal, get some rest, and the like. I know other Overlords dictate what the souls they own wear, and what they keep, but I don’t particularly care for that. You may wear whatever you want and own whatever possessions you’d like,” he replied, a hint of disdain creeping in his voice at the mention of other overlords. “I won’t keep you from living your life, I simply have a few rules alongside your requirements for working for me.”

“Okay,” I said with a nod. That made sense, it seemed reasonable. I hadn’t expected him to be so…. fair. It was almost generous, coming from an overlord. “What would be expected of me?”

“First and above all else, you can’t betray me,” he said, snapping his attention to me directly. Now I had his undivided attention and he was giving me a stern look. “You may not go against me or harm me in anyway. You are not allowed to take part in any plan that could negatively impact on me.”

“Okay, you want me to be loyal, then,” I said. I thought for a moment, then smiled. “That won’t be hard at all. You’re quite nice, you know. Not what I expected from the radio demon, but it’s a pleasant surprise.”

“I’ve been threatening you for half the time I’ve known you,” he retorted, rolling his eyes. “In any case, your actual job is to help me with my endeavors at the Hazbin Hotel. If I ask you to do something for me or anyone there, so long as it has to do with the hotel or protecting its inhabitants, you must comply. Understood?”

“Yep,” I said with a quick nod. “That’s the one for rehabilitating sinners, right?”

“Yes, I take it you’ve actually heard of it? What, are you interested in the concept?” He asked, giving me a look. He seemed surprised at the very notion.

“Eh. Not currently. I think it’s cool, but that’s not why I was asking,” I said with a shrug. I looked away from him for a moment, nervous again. “It’s just some of my possessions could be considered contraband in a place like that.”

“Oh,” he said, quieter. He thought for a moment, then nodded. “I’m not quite sure what you mean specifically, but as long as you’re not putting the hotel in any danger, it will be allowed. Weapons, especially. A bigger part of your job will be protecting the hotel and its inhabitants. We have a few people who like to venture into town often, and you will be expected to accompany them.”

“As a sort of bodyguard.”

“Yes, precisely,” he replied. “Now, I do think that is everything we have to discuss. Do we have a deal?”

I thought it over for a moment, going over each thing we’d discussed. Then, I shook his hand. “Yes,” I said.

“Good. It was a pleasure doing business with you, my dear.”

#alastor the radio demon #alastor hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor #hazbin hotel #the radio demon #alastor hazbin x reader #alastor x reader

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mermaidfanficlibrary · 3 days

Note

For your Songs from the heart event!!

I was thinking Aunnobeats by Maigo Hanyuu with Xiao, Kazuha, and Wanderer/Scaramouche! No yandere, but some angst!

.·:🎼¨༺ Songs from the heart ༻¨🎼:·. | Aunnobeats

Characters: Xiao, Kazuha, Wanderer

Song: Aunnobeats by Maigo Hanyuu

youtube

Warnings: Angst

A/U: Self aware Genshin Au

a/n: This is the first song I full comboed on PJSekai

XIAO

Xiao was more than pleased as you explored Liyue with him. A small smile of content was on his lips while running through Mt. Tainhen collecting materials. Then you stopped his movements at an all too familiar building. A statue inside the building brought back memories. Those memories causing rare tears in Xiao’s eyes, and then that's when he registered the song you were playing in the background.

“Don’t worry, don’t worry, it’s okay I will make you smile”

What did that mean? It caught Xiao’s attention, and he knew you cared for him. If you didn’t then why would you spend so much time building him? Why would you make all those comments of sympathy during quests that involved his emotional vulnerability? Why did you bring him to Pervases’ shrine? So many unanswered questions swarmed Xiao’s mind.

He thought back to the lyric, and he looked into your eyes. They held so much sympathy. He realized you were comforting him, thinking he wanted to see an old friend even though they passed. And that lyric was your reassurance.

You wanted to make him happy. That's all you ever wanted for him, and it didn't go unnoticed. It explained why you took so much care in building him. The tears didn't subside, in fact they only increased at the realization that you cared so deeply for him. Only mumbled words slipped past his lips to which you couldn't hear due to the code.

“Your dedication is admirable, creator… I wish to repay it.”

KAZUHA

Kazuha was just standing in a very serene area in Inazuma. For whatever reason, you stopped moving around, seemingly more focused on the music in the background. Kazuha was very amused, deciding to play along on the leaf he found. He stopped as soon as he started with his focus more caught up on the current song playing in the background. You seemed to be mumbling a specific lyric to yourself.

“I held up my heart to you Give it back someday, be gentle, okay?”

His body stiffened, and he looked at you through the screen. He felt both honored and concerned. You wanted to give him your heart, but you seemed worried about him hurting you. Kazuha would never do such a thing. You were the creator; he only had respect for you.

He wanted nothing more than to keep your heart safe and warm. He is very familiar with protecting people. The concern he held was the thought that you had given your heart to others, but they didn't treat you right. They didn't give you the care you needed.

The sad look on your face only made his heart ache more. He wanted to take care of you more than anything. If not for the screen keeping you both apart he would be soothing you. His pride mixed with his concern. You wanted him to take care of you.

“Your heart is a treasure, and I’d treat it with more care than my sword.”

WANDERER

Wanderer was elated that you chose to have him on the field. Granted it was just for defeating weak monsters for materials, but who was he to question you? All he cared about was being useful to you. Wanderer usually tuned out the music you listened too. It was typically something to keep you busy while you played, but this particular song caught his attention.

“Why do I want to be loved? Why do I want to love?”

Were you asking him a question through song? Or was it something else? Whatever it was, the sadness was evident on your facial features. Your emotional venerability was something that Wanderer was unprepared to deal with. Emotional venerability in general was something Wanderer wasn’t very familiar with.

He wanted to try to be there for you, though. You showed him the light of his new life, one without pain and one where he could grow from his past. He wanted to give back to you. He looked at your saddened face with adoration. There was only one answer to the question you asked.

He would love you to the end of Teyvat. His loyalty is yours because he owes you his whole life. You’re the creator who brought him hope. Even through his arrogance and indifference there was still so much love for you. He only mumbled one thing, and he was so glad you couldn’t hear it from the screen.

“I’ll love you… Because you guided me from the wretched life I used to have.”

Do not repost or translate without my explicit permission! Reblogs are welcome!

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of beskar and kyber {chapter 19}

Pairing: Din Djarin x Force Sensitive! Reader (the Mandalorian x Force Sensitive! Reader) ; brief Force Sensitive! Reader and M!OC

Summary: As the wedding to Prince Cala looms closer, you find yourself feeling more and more out of place within the palace walls. You find an unexpected friend in your new bodyguard and handmaiden.

Word Count: 9.5k

Warnings: canon typical violence, canon typical language, we meet readers betrothed and he needs his own warning, reader's mother also gets her own warning, kidnapping, reader is being kept against her will, hostage situation, use of narcotics, use of drugs, sedatives, self-depreciating thoughts, ptsd symptoms, medical trauma, past medical trauma, feelings of inadequacy, sexual themes, sexual content (not detailed), non con touching, unwanted advances, emotional manipulation, unnecessary display of possession, memory loss, controlling family dynamics, marriage set up, sold into marriage, there are a few more but they will spoil the chapter!

A/N: whew okay, sorry y'all. a looooot has been going on in my personal life, detailed in this post and this one. my only source of internet is the local library at the moment, which will make posting actual fic a little tricky for a moment. but i'm so excited to dwell further into this original arc with y'all ♡♡

ao3 link || series masterlist || main masterlist || ko-fi

Ringing. Ringing, ringing. It completely consumed you, from the very center of your ears, muffling every other sound that tried to get through.

It didn’t hurt, but it did make it hard to concentrate, it felt like an immense pressure behind your eyes as well. Making your forehead and temples sensitive to touch, making it hard to take in the bright light from the desert landscape beyond your windows.

There was a soft knock at your door, signaling the start of the day. But you didn’t rise, feeling too lethargic even as the form of your mother and two handmaidens entered the room in a flurry of motions and quick words. But everything ceased when you called out from beneath your covers as the curtains were drawn back.

“Oh honey, what’s wrong?” Her words were sweet, cloyingly so, setting off an unease deep in your gut, nausea roiling at the combination.

“I-I don’t feel too good. My head, it hurts.” You roll over to your side, unable to move much beyond that as the throbbing in your head intensifies. She goes to sit beside your covered form on the edge of the bed, but you protest before she does. You didn’t want her anywhere near you, the very thought of her touching you making your body tense up and ready to fight her off. Frowning, she retracts her hands from where she had begun to reach out, something glinting in her eyes.

“I’ll go see if the med droid is available.” And then she was off, allowing you to see her exchange a few words with the guards outside your door. You catch a glimpse of brown eyes, making contact with the man who possessed them for a breath, and you feel like the air catches in your chest. That simple, momentary contact with a man you don’t know eases the ailments that have you still in bed despite the late morning of the hour. But the door is shut tightly behind everyone as they exit the room. Leaving you in isolation, the curtains fastened shut once again.

Hours later, as the sun begins its descent from the highest point in the sky, you slowly open your bedroom door. There’s only one guard at your door, posted there to ensure your safety as you keep to your quarters for the day. He’s dressed in flowing black layers, brown leather harness and belt allowing for his sheathed rapier style sword to dangle from his hips. His head snaps to attention as you emerge slightly, and you feel your heart skip a beat as his eyes bore into yours.

Any thoughts of what you were about to ask are pushed from your aching head when you connect the man standing before you with the polite one from the market a few days ago. The one who had held you so tenderly and made sure you were okay when your body had convulsed as a weird energy had suddenly flooded your senses. The ones whose eyes you had glimpsed through the door earlier.

“Excuse me, but-oh Maker, I’m so sorry, this is so inappropriate to ask- but you look so familiar,” A breathy laugh gave away your nervousness. “Your eyes are just so beautiful, and I think we met in the market the other day, if I’m not mistaken?”

“We did.” His voice was like velvet rich, a caressing softness in your ringing ears. Easing the ache still lingering in your head even if his words were short, his tone almost emotionless.

“Oh, goodness, okay. I don’t feel so out of line. I just…I thought it was you but I didn’t want to risk offending you or making you uncomfortable since you’re new to the palace.” The hallway was silent, as if he was thinking over his next words, as if he was unsure of how to speak with you. But you didn’t mind, sensing he was a man of few words.

“What made you feel like it was okay to ask?” He’s watching you closely, and you feel as if you’re being dissected. Being read in a way you weren’t quite comfortable with but…it also stirred warmth low in your middle. It was so different a look to those you encountered from the rest of the staff, from your mother, from Prince Cala and his family.

“Oh, um. Did I-I speak too intimately with you, I apologize. I really didn’t mean anything by it-“ You flustered, unsure why the man was pinning you with such focus. As if he was reading things in your body language and inflections differently than those you dealt with on a daily basis around the palace, as if he was privy to what they meant. You took a deep breath, trying to ignore the ringing still pressing down on your ears. Closing your eyes in a focusing blink before bowing to the man in front of you, stood dutifully at his post outside your bedroom door. Opening them back up, you avoided his eyes, not wanting to see the disdain he was surely pinning you with. “My apologies, sir, I meant no disrespect. I’ll leave you to your post.”

“No, don’t go. It’s okay, I promise. You can ask me anything you want.” He inclined his head toward you, one hand moving to grasp the hilt of his weapon. But it didn’t feel like a threat, it felt more like he was trying to ground himself. “I will do my best to answer. Though there are some things I may not be able to.”

“Why, because I’m the princess and you have to answer to me?” You tried not to scoff, the notion so ridiculous even if all signs pointed to this being your life. The title is something you had earned by falling in the good graces of the prince, of being promised to the prince of this planet. You never recalled wanting to be of such a standing and yet it had happened, it was your life. The insistence of so being repeated to you nearly daily over breakfast with your mother and at night over tea, almost as if it was a false truth being pushed on you until you believed it to be so. It was the reality in which you were roused from your accident, the one so bad you couldn’t recall any specifics.

“Because I don’t mind, you were kind to me and my…child in the market. He really enjoyed those berries.”

“Is he here with you?” You felt a swoop of admiration in your middle, the image of the small green boy lifting up the edges of your lips. You didn’t have the best experience with children, or any really, but you enjoyed the small sounds of happiness he had made as he munched and interacted with you. It filled a void you hadn’t realized, interacting with him, with his son. You never recalled wanting children either, though you mother and the parents of Prince Cala often cited two would be an appropriate number once the marriage was carried out. The discussion something you hadn’t even been a part of, making you feel some type of way about the whole ordeal that concerned your body and your livelihood.

“Yes, he’s back in the guards’ quarters, Asleep in my room.”

“He isn’t with your wife…his mother?”

“No, she’s…she’s, something happened to her.” His eyes averted, staring at the toes of his boots. They were worn, so unlike the rest of his pristine ensemble. It piqued your interest, but you didn’t want to push the friendly boundary barely established with the man.

“Is she okay?” It was quiet, your inquiry. Worry unsettling your stomach for the phantom woman who belonged to the man beside you.

“I hope she will be. It’s a…sensitive thing, that ails her.” His eyes don’t leave yours, gaze strong and glinting with emotion.

“I wish her a full recovery, I’m sure she misses you two by her side.” Breathing out the words, you suspected the man had been about to tell you she had perished. Unsure of why the prospect of him having a person, a partner… a wife seemed to settle heavy in your stomach. But it made sense, he was a handsome man as far as you could tell, his eyes beautiful enough to capture anyone’s attention. His obvious admiration for his son and the care with which he spoke…of course he had someone by his side.

The flare of jealously at the thought made you feel a little foolish as it unnerved you, you only just met this man. You didn’t even know his name. Frowning slightly, you bowed your head, hoping to convey your true condolences for his ailing wife.

“I…can only hope for the same thing.” Something in his forlorn tone didn’t sit well, sticking to the inside of your stomach. It was heavy, his feelings for the woman he spoke of, there was no doubt about it. And while it was endearing, it also felt…wrong. Like he shouldn’t be talking about someone else that way, that it was an odd thing for his focus to be on someone else.

Heat overtook your chest as you tried to push down the ill feelings toward this ailing, phantom woman Because this man was a stranger. A stranger with a cute, little, green child. He was nothing to you, new to the planet perhaps, definitely new to the palace and this line of work. You were sure you would remember such a sparkling set of eyes, accident or not.

Glancing back into your room, you wished they hadn’t brought you so much for lunch. Wanting to share in the abundance of it with someone who could use a little help. Being a guard couldn’t pay well and the man had a child and a sick wife to take care of. The fruit and skewers of marinated meat far too plentiful for just yourself. You didn’t want it to go to waste but you also didn’t want to force any more appetite than you had. Offering it to him would be a good attempt to make sure it didn’t go to waste.

“They brought me a lot of food, would-would you like me to make you a plate?”

“I can’t leave my post.”

“What if you came inside and we sat on the balcony? Furthest place from the door and you would be close enough to me should any threats arise.”

“That sounds very tempting. But it would be a violation for me to leave my post.”

“Oh, okay. That’s okay, I know it’s a lot to ask of you. It’s just…” You couldn’t look up at his face, his eyes that were no doubt still watching you closely. You felt embarrassed for being so forward, for asking this stranger for his time when he was working. Of course he didn’t want to come into your room and share a meal. “No, I understand. Thank you for your service.”

Turning to go back into the room, the door was stopped from closing by a large hand, thick fingers curling around the edge of it.

“I want to, mesh’la. Please don’t mistake that.”

“Can- can I ask for your name?” He paused, eyes looking you up and down as he thought over the positives and negatives of providing you with such information.

“It’s Aliit.”

“Aliit…and?”

“Oh, ad’ika.”

Aliit, Ad’ika, and…”

“Cyar’ika.” Your heartbeat hard in in your chest, so much so that you brought a hand to rest over your chest. The foreign language rolling off your tongue with ease despite never encountering it before meeting this man. They were not in Basic, nor any other language you were aware of knowing or being able to speak.

“Aliit, Ad’ika, and Cyar’ika.” You nodded your head at him, small smile gracing your lips despite the ringing still plaguing you. He bids you a good day, the sound of another guard’s footsteps coming down the hall.

The ringing lasts well into the night.

When it doesn’t abate by the next morning, your mother orders the handmaidens to prepare you for a trip to the medical wing, across the palace grounds. Your door was being guarded by a different guard and you worried you made the man from the market uncomfortable. Your heart sunk as you walked alongside a new woman who was in your services.

She was pretty, her hair dark and long, pulled back away from her face by a thin headscarf of dark blue. Her dress was a light sky blue, accents of the darker shade allowing for her to look beautiful in the ensemble of fabric. Though it didn’t seem like her normal attire, her arms toned and muscled from what had to be years of training and work. Her thighs stocky and thick as they moved underneath the fabric and guided you down the halls and out of the main building. You wondered what turned her to this line of work, if she had been a slave and sold to the palace to work off or cover her debt. You made sure to file the thought away and treat her to lunch each day should she have not much in the other aspects of her life.

The sun shone on her pale skin, and you wondered if she had on some kind of gloss over her plush lips for the glint to them.

She was pretty and you wanted to let her know. Though after yesterday, you were afraid of being seen as some frivolous princess who didn’t have any friends and needed to turn her attention to those in her service for conversation. Because it was true, you realized with a particularly painful throb of your head, that you didn’t have any friends who had called on you since your accident. Unable to recall if you were a social person before, you resigned yourself to the solitary routine of your life, only meals shared with others in your life.

She was kind, stopping every so often around the grounds as you stopped when the ringing made it hard to concentrate on putting one foot in front of the other.

“I apologize – oh Maker, I don’t even know your name.” You leaned heavily against a stone pillar, head pounding with the incessant ringing. It sounded- at brief moments – like you were surrounding by strong wind, the hush of sand all around so intense or as if you were aboard a ship and flying through the air.

“My name is Cynth, princess.” She was close, close enough to catch you should your balance falter. “It’s okay, though, I’m new, no need to apologize.”

“She doesn’t care what your name is, she’s depending on you to get her to the medical wing, not make small talk.” The other handmaiden interrupted.

“Janae, you know I make a point to know everyone’s names. There’s no need to be so curt.” You lightly reprimanded, wanting everyone to know that you see them as they truly are. Your mother was so short and demanding with the help around the palace, stirring distaste and unease in you that you didn’t want to imitate her. “Please be kind to each other, sometimes that all we have in this universe, is the kindness of those around us. It can be lifesaving, so let’s try a little better, okay?”

“Yes, princess.” Janae bows to you, the fabric of her dress catching the breeze coming through the open corridor.

Moments later, all three of you were entering the medical wing. There was a droid who had to record the time and date of your visit before guiding you to the room you had been in far too much for your liking. Your mother’s perfume was faint, giving away her presence in the examination room. She was vigilant over your recovery, present at any small visit or worry. And you wanted to feel loved and grateful for her worry but it didn’t feel quite so…genuine even if she preached about getting you back to your old self on the daily.

“I-They tell me I had a bad fall, that’s why I don’t really remember anything from before.” You say as the two women helps moves to help you disrobe. But you startle, not liking the sensation of them pulling on your clothing.

“Please, both of you go and enjoy an early dinner. I can manage here by myself.” Cynth quietly ordered, hoping that less people in the room would help to calm you. It was a good judgement call, because as soon as the two nurses left you felt the anxiety skittering over your skin abate. You felt comfortable with her, and she helped you remove the layers of your flowing dress to change into the smock they needed you in to perform their exam and testing.

She was tense, uncomfortable in this setting, nestled in the medical wing alongside you. You could sense it in the cracking of her knuckles as she helped you to shrug on a robe over your undergarments. In the way she watched as a droid came out of the exam room alongside your mother and a man draped in a dark red tunic. Her jaw was clenched as she watched the way you let them guide you into the room they had just come from. The prick of a needle injecting something into your arm already taking effect.

“Cynth, please stay with me? We can get lunch after.”

“Of course, Princess San.”

“Servants are to only use last names when addressing the royal line. Show’s the respect they have for the rulers of the city.” You mothers voice was sharp, a warning simmering low in her words.

“It’s okay.” You slurred as your vision began to fade, edges of everything fuzzy, colors bleeding into each other. “We’re friends, mother.”

“Hush now, darling. You have to keep up the line between servants and your friends are not true if they haven’t come to visit you. We’ve talked about this.”

“Yes, mother. My…friend,” At an encouraging smile at the edge of her lips you turned back to your mother. “Cynth is my friend, and I would like for her to remain with me during the day.”

Pursing her lips, she looked like she wanted to contest the request. Refraining from doing so, her lips turned up in a saccharine smile before she ushered you through the doorway into the exam room.

It was expansive, a giant machine taking up one half of the room, a set of three beds lining the other. Cabinets of supplies and a small desk with an electronic bank set up before it.

But the machine, was a blur, the contents of whatever she had administered taking hold fast. The last thing you recall is glancing over your shoulder over at Cynth and seeing her features morph into a stone caste, eyes hard.

“It’s worse than we thought.” Cara announced as she entered the servants’ quarters. There was an entire wing for them on the second floor of the palace. Dining room, kitchen, ballrooms and throne room all on the first floor. Library and green house rooms, the seamstress and many other “service” rooms set up on the third. The fourth was the bath house and other rooms they had been forbade from approaching. The family bedrooms on the fifth floor, balconies in each one. The medical wing was across the courtyard, outdoor hallways lined with covers supported by thick stone pillars.

Her and Din being assigned to one room with twin cots on opposite walls. Hired at the same time and kept on close tabs during the ‘review process’ to determine where they were to be stationed for their contracts. It had been easy enough, the palace needing to fill holes in security at the behest of your mother. Din had offered his services as a close guard for you, citing that he had experience with protecting high standing individuals. Cara had been automatically assigned to be a handmaiden, you dismissing one earlier that week for some reason that went unexplained.

Din looked up from where he was tending to ad’ika, the small being agitated beyond comforting. As if he could sense you were close by but too far for him to see and interact with. He missed you, he craved your calming presence and easy going care for him, Din suspected. He knows he did, the you before the manipulation, before the kidnapping, before he had gone and fucked it all up and allowed for this to happen to you.

“Her mother’s found and employed an ex-Empire director, they’ve constructed a mind flayer in the medical wing. San undergoes ‘exams’ twice a month under the close supervision of two nurse droids and the director.” Cara took in the way Din stiffened, his mind going over everything he knew of such machines only rumored to be still in operation. Of the atrocities committed in the name of getting back to a peaceful time of before the Empire’s rule by using the very same technology they had invented.

“Did her mother stay in the room?” His distaste bordering on hatred marring his words, giving away his feelings of the woman who dared to call herself your guardian and caretaker these days. He never thought himself capable of unaltered hate, but here he was. He could only go far as to guess it had to do with the same feelings he never expected to feel towards another, of falling for someone as completely as he had done with you. But of course, he had gone and messed everything up. Tainted the happy memories he had allowed himself to create with you after suck a rocky and tentative start after finding you shackled in that compound.

It was only every supposed to be another job, another quarry to collect and deliver. Instead he had found the child, found you. Managing through lack of cognitive thinking and examination of his feelings causing him to return the child only to decimate his professional career and standing in order to right his wrongs. He thought he had learned his lesson, only to repeat it with you.

“No, she left. But she does administer the sedative. I’m sure we can somehow take over those ‘exams’.”

“We have to.” His voice was firm, emotions in check as he moved to sit atop his cot. “We have to stop the sessions, it’s the only way her mind can heal itself and she can remember.”

“I think she’s already beginning to, something about her abilities wearing down the effects of the flayer quicker than her mother can keep up with. She’s complained of a headache since we got here, since she interacted with the kid in the marketplace.”

“Then we need to find a way to have her interact with him more, shift her memory back into place.”

“…she’s so quiet, constantly on alert. Taking stock of everything going on around her. I swear her mind is working more than she’s letting on. She was watching me this morning, almost as if she was trying to figure out if she recognized me from somewhere.” Cara theorizes as she recalls the way you were when she had first met you, back on K’ath.

“She…she said I feel familiar to her.” Din admitted quietly, his heart skipping a beat as he recalled the way you had looked at him. The worry of offending him with your honesty, with your relief of realizing you knew him from the marketplace, of feeling like you were able to ask him things you couldn’t of others.

Stealing glances down each hallway, you make your way through the palace on quiet feet. The only sound to give you away is the hush of your dress layers brushing against your legs. In your hand is lighting agent you had snatched from Prince Cala’s office. The low thrumming of a headache still present after your visit to the medical wing and subsequent night of unconsciousness, though it wasn’t nearly as debilitating as it had been yesterday. With bated breath, you turn into the expansive and lush nursery.

Hiding in a corner, you push on the glass panel of the large windows and breath in the hot, humid air to calm yourself. Reaching into the pouch hidden beneath your layers, you retrieve one of the tabac rolls you had requested from a handmaiden. She had frowned at the way you had asked her to keep it from your mother, but the second you lit the end of it and inhaled, all of your colliding thoughts vanished. It was a guilty pleasure you were sure wouldn’t look good to the public eye. But one you weren’t willing to give up. One you were sure was something from the time before your accident.

Steps that were nearly silent caught your attention and you looked toward the arching doorway, the clear glass paneling of it nearly visible from your hidden spot. A figure was pushing them open, hinges squealing slightly as a familiar voice called out your name.

Sighing, you shifted slightly, giving away your spot hidden among the lush greenery. You dress allowing you to blend in. It was made of a transparent layer of tulle over smooth silk, lighter green than the leaves around you. But the flowers sewn into the fabric allowed you to blend in with those that were blooming among so many of the plants too sensitive to be out in the courtyard, out in the direct heat and sunlight of the unforgiving desert sun.

Allit came into view, his eyes taking in the sight of you looking slightly nervous as you were found out smoking in a room that you definitely should not be. But it was the only one your mother wouldn’t follow you into, the perfumes of the flowers too much for her sensitive nose.

“Apologies, I thought I heard someone in here but it’s an odd hour for me to be up an about. Instincts took over.” He motions to the sleeping form in his arms before setting ad’ika down atop a bench. You feel for him, how tired he must be from watching the child during the day and then standing guard all night.

“I could, I mean, if you don’t-“ You cut yourself off, knowing it was a breech of the already muddled professional line between you both. Instead, you take another drag of the tabac before putting out the inch remaining from the roll and depositing it into an empty planter under the window sill.

“What is it, mesh’la?” His eyes find yours, genuine curiosity swirling in them as he approached you.

“I could watch him for you, if you’re okay with that. I know how tiring the night shift must be. Gives you a chance to rest in the mornings and gives me a little company.” Embarrassment at the care your exhibiting prickles the hairs on the back of your neck on along your arms swathed in sheer fabric. If you were being completely honest, you needed a distraction from the routine of your life. Wanting to feel like you were doing something, helping someone. The company of the child something you had been thinking about after a few passing interactions.

“I think…he would like that.”

“Make sure he has a balanced breakfast and enough entertainment to sleep soundly in the evenings.”

“He’d like that too.”

“And you?”

His eyes bore into yours, something in them that trapped the breath in your throat and your fingers itch to reach out.

“I’d like that very much.”

You feel the urge to reach out and pull him to you, he’s already so close. His broad body angled towards you, his eyes locked on your form, as if he’s seeing the skin hidden beneath the layers. Anticipation titters through you as you see the faint movement of his jaw twitching beneath the fabric draped over his face. Without realizing it, you had reached out, fingers skimming the outline of his cheek hidden from view. His eyes fluttered shut, his own hand coming up to gently clasp over your wrist. Though he made no move to step away or remove your hand.

“Apologies,” You jerk your fingers away, aware that he was not yours to touch, his skin not yours to caress your fingers over, his lips not yours to kiss. He belonged to another and so did you.

“You don’t have to apologize, mesh’la.”

“I-I feel like I know you, but I…I don’t and you belong to another.” You step back from him, the leaves of the leaves all around hushing as you did so. But he follows, step for step until your back is against the wall. But you don’t feel caged in or uncomfortable. You feel desire swirl in your middle, heat thrum just under your skin. He’s closer than he had been before, his chest flush with yours and his hands holding yours down by your waist, fingers tangled together. His eyes are sparkling when they meet yours, the brown of them lit up from the sun shining in through the large windows.

Your breath catches in your throat, nerves alight and you feel like you were floating.

“I do and I do not.” He says cryptically. But you have no chance to decipher the meaning behind his words as the bright jingle of your handmaiden’s bracelets float into the room from the hall.

“Princess? Your bath has been drawn if you wish to get ready for bed.” Her voice calls into the room, unable to see you hidden among the plants. With a lingering look, you separate from Aliit and make your way towards the door.

“Princess Cala, your mother and fiancé have made it very clear that you are not to be left alone. Especially in a place as vulnerable as the bath house.” Janea was trying not to overstep her place, but she was doing her best to uphold the orders she had been given.

“I’ll be fine, I just need a moment to myself. Please understand.”

“I would feel better if there was a guard just inside the door, the tapestries will keep you hidden.” The visceral urge to demand she leave and drop the subject was strong and you choked down the harsh words before they burst from your lips. The thought of someone being in the same room with you as you disrobe and bathe not settling well with you at all. Instincts flaring and the urge to fight making your muscles tense.

“I can call on Sir Aliit? I know you feel comfortable with him, he would never hurt you or put you in harm’s way.” Something flared in your chest- nervousness, excitement, at the thought of Aliit being close by. Of the man keeping an eye out for you while you were at your most vulnerable.

“He’s the night guard, it’s still too early for his shift.”

“I’m sure he wouldn’t mind, Princess. He is dutiful and committed to keeping you safe.” Cynth spoke up, having been waiting at the entrance of the room for you.

“O-okay, call on him then. Please.”

Moments later, the quiet steps of the man can be heard in the hallway accompanied by the soft, incoherent babbling of his child.

“I’m sorry, he wasn’t quite ready for bed.”

“Oh, that’s okay,” You lilt, reaching for the wiggling figure in his grip. Cooing softly, the child began to giggle at the tresses of your loose hair, reaching to wrap his fingers in them. Small face buried in your neck his muffled sounds still lift into the air. “He’s just a lil fussy, nothing a warm bath won’t fix. Isn’t that right?”

“Oh, that’s not nece-“

“I don’t mind, I said I’d offer to help with him. It must be hard caring for him all on your own.” You smile at Aliit, taking note of the hands he had been stretching to collect his child back. Off to the side, Cynth is taking in the scene with a quirk of her lips. Having taken over watching you while Janae had gone to fetch the guard you were beginning to think of more than was appropriate.

Steam fills the expansive room, ornate stone walls covered in glittering and shimmering tapestries. The rich neutral tones highlighted by sapphire blues, bright turquoise, and deep oranges of tiles set in mesmerizing designs along the lips and edges of the large bath. It could easily fit four to five people, more of a sauna than a typical refresher. But it was peaceful in the room, even if you were hyper aware of the stoic form of Aliit on the other side of the cloth wall where a few tapestries had been drawn closed.

Ad’ika is gurgling away happily as you lower his small body into the water. It was a little too deep for him, but you had found a small floating cushion for him that was working as a makeshift raft for him to sit atop and be submerged up to his belly button. One of his little three fingered claws was wrapped around your arm and you felt the same energy from the marketplace flow into you. But instead of overwhelming you, it made you feel calm and collected. Centered.

You feel…comfortable around him despite not being too fond of children. And then there was his father.

Allit made you feel so much more like yourself, even despite being a little unaware of who that might be exactly. More so than anyone else in your constructed life, more so than Prince Cala. Something that sits in the forefront of your mind as the days drag on and your memory remains foggy. You were glad for him, even if he was a new addition to the routine and frankly, boring agenda your life was structured around. The man was tall, silent. Easy strength and skill obvious in his every move, in the velvet of his deep voice, the warmth of his eyes. But it didn’t unnerve you like the other guards, who seemed to be watching your every move. The hint of hidden directives underlying their attention and postings.

But Aliit…he was willing to converse with you. To allow you to speak with him as an equal without pointing out that it was unbecoming of royalty to do so. He answered your questions, and you could sense he had some of his own, sometimes letting them slip from the lips you wish you could see beneath the fabric covering his mouth. Masks weren’t part of the uniform, but he constantly had one in place. It was both comforting to know he was confident enough to feel like he could continue to bear it, and if you were honest…it was a little thrilling to find that he was willing to open up to you despite it.

The front of the room had cushioned benches, even a table filled with sweets and dips partnered with flat breads. Almost as if it were a living room or lounge room to idle in. But you had ignored it to delve further into the room. The bath was set up along the back wall, the right lined with shower heads resembling ferocious animal heads, mouths open in roars to allow for the water to flow from them.

Busing yourself with lathering up a loofa, you smiled down at the giggling child. He was so happy, so easy to please. Unbridled joy easy to draw from him as you had offered him to smell each of the bathing oil and soap options until he had liked one. He picked a lightly floral scent, one that reminded you of blooming trees from the time of before your accident. A rich, woodsy scent with the underlying current of it.

Once you were sure he was scrubbed clean, his laughter at the tickling sensation making warmth bloom in your chest, you wished for this to be your life. To spend your days with the child and his father, as if this was a normal occurrence for the trio you made. Taking pleasure in the small things, in the calm of a daily routine.

Rinsing him off in the bath, you wrapped him in a towel. Sending him to sit atop a stone bench a few feet from the baths edge, you began to lather up a second loofa with the same soap. Once you were covered in suds, you stood from the water. Stepping over the edge, a jolt of pain made you lose your balance, and you knocked over the bottle of soap as you tried to catch yourself.

“San?” Allit was suddenly pulling back the colorful tapestries that divided the room. You stilled as you were hunched over and reaching for the bottle where it had sunk to the bottom of the bath. His eyes widened just a fraction at the sight of your skin on display, bubbles covering very little from view. Arousal throbbed deep in your middle, tingling across your heated skin at the brief feeling of his eyes roving over your skin.

Your stomach jolted at the idea of him seeing you, his eyes taking in the scene before him.

“Apologies!” He choked out before receding back a little and facing away from you, though he didn’t disappear from view. “I thought, I was just checking to make sure you were okay.”

“I’m-yes, of course. Just- yes.” You stuttered, unsure where the sudden feeling of arousal had come from, of why him seeing you in nothing hadn’t ignited the same sense of fear and instinct to fight as the mere intention of your handmaiden’s helping you to disrobe. “We’re both okay, just knocked something over.”

“Copy that, yeah.” His voice so smooth as it washed over you. “I’ll…leave you to it, then.”

And he was gone, leaving you in that same hunched over position. Your heart was beating quickly, blood rushing in your ears, body alight with tingling arousal. With a sigh, you berated yourself for the sudden feelings as your hand wrapped around the bottle and put it back in the little basket with the rest of the soaps and oils.

“I demand to see my fiancé!” A booming voice could be heard in the back of the bath. The hush of conversation following the shout drowned out by the running of water as you washed off in one of the stalls. Ad’ika was wrapped in a towel, sitting half asleep and waiting for you to redress him. Wrapping your own towel around your damp body, you drew back the fabric enclosing the stall only to come face to face with both Aliit and Prince Cala. Both had crossed the threshold into the marbled portion of the bath.

“Oh!”

“My dear princess, your guard needs to be informed he is to break your requests in favor of mine. If I wish to see you, I am able to despite you saying you wish to not be disturbed.” He didn’t offer apologies for intruding on your privacy, bouldering his way further into the room despite the glare being aimed at him from beneath thick brows.

“Y-yes, my heart. I-I apologize.” Tightening the hold of the towel around your body, you were hyperaware of this being the most exposed you had been in front of the man who was to be your husband. It didn’t stir any feelings of excitement or arousal in you, instead you felt nausea rise to prickle your skin in an uncomfortable chill.

“You are not to be left alone under any circumstances, do you hear me?” The man stepped forward, his hand reaching for your bare shoulder. You ignored the urge to back away from him, aware of Aliit watching the scene unfold just a few steps behind him, of the energy flowing from him as he obviouslt disagreed with the way things were unfolding. Cala didn’t seem to mind the gaze of the other man as he stepped up to you, hand snaking around your shoulders while his other slipped underneath your towel to grasp at your bare waist. Eyes downcast, you let him touch you. He hadn’t raised a hand to you or given you reason to think he would harm you.

“Even if you are bathing, a guard or handmaiden is to be within viewing range. I don’t care if he’s to see you, you are far too fragile to be left to your own devices.” Humiliation floods you, heating you too much to bear as the steam of the room and the hot water of the bath begins to stifle you. You choke on a response, eyes downcast as you can’t bring yourself to look up from the stone floor. But he didn’t like that, the way you were stuck and unresponsive. “You look at me when I speak to you.”

“Y-yes, sir.” You brought your gaze up to his face, glancing behind his shoulder at the other man before focusing on your intended’s eyes. “I apologize for-“

“You are to dress and go to my quarters.” His hand slid down your damp skin, fingers brushing against the thatch of hair over your most intimate area. You gasped out, he had never even so much as kissed you unprompted. And even then, it was always chaste. But this side of him…it was bound to come to light, he was a man after all and you were to be his. His eyes dilated at the feel of your silken folds as his fingers skimmed over your skin.

“Yes, s-sir.”

“Ensure she dresses appropriately, guard. Maker, I don’t care if you have to force the clothing onto her, she should look fitting for the night ahead of her.” He cocked his head to the side at the resounding silence of the room, tension so thick it was only adding to the overwhelming heat. Dark eyes narrowing, Cala’s grip tightened, bordering on almost painful as he demanded an answer. “Guard, do you understand?”

“Yes.” Came the quick reply from the man behind him. Voice devoid of all emotion, velvet given way to gravel.

Smirking in satisfaction, Cala moved in a rather harsh swipe of his fingers up through your folds, catching on the hood of your cunt. You couldn’t tamp down the startled cry as the tips of them brushed over your clit, more painful than scintillating. Before you could even register the move, he was turning away from you and stomping out the door.

He delivered one last command over his shoulder.

“There are wrapped presents that have been delivered to your closet. Dress her from one of those, I expect to see you in less than an hour.”

The second the door shut at the front of the room, your knees gave out and you found yourself crumbling to the ground. Strong arms softened the blow, cradling you close to a sturdy body, keeping your towel wrapped around your trembling body. Humiliation overwhelmed you, anxiety rising something awful in you as you sunk into the warmth of the body holding you close. He didn’t stir anything in you, his touch comforting and tight around you.

“I’ve got you, mesh’la.” Allit’s deep voice soothed as he pulled you to him, body so close and encasing you. But you didn’t feel trapped or caged, you felt comforted by his closeness. You opened your mouth to assure him you were okay, but a wet hiccup was what fell from your lips.

Time passes and your memory still does not return. You’ve resigned yourself to this choreographed dance of your life. Breakfast with your mother, who tends to watch you so closely you feel like a creature on display. She bids you a good day before going about her business, something she claims is left over from your lives before you got entangled with the prince of the planet’s sole city. She had yet to allow you to share in her work, her craftmanship of forging armor pieces of chainmail. You often felt restless, thinking the act of participating would help to sooth you, help you to focus.

You dream of making pieces of armor, of donning others. The smooth metal cool underneath your fingertips eliciting both mundane things and…rather debauched thoughts of a large body pulling pleasure from you as easy as breathing.

You occupy yourself with walks through the gardens, of watching over Aliit’s child during the day before handing off the tiny creature who could barely keep his eyes open to the man before joining your intended for dinner. A nightcap with your mother, often tea since she insisted caf before sleeping was bad for your condition. But it was the stolen moments with Cynth and Aliit that you looked forward to the most.

The handmaiden often accompanying you during your walks, soft conversations of her time before being employed by the palace. Of the things she’s lived and endured. You feel very close with her, almost friendly with her as you often share lunch.

Aliit often gave in to your requests for him to sit in the lounge area of your room or out on the balcony in the late hours of the night. Sleep evading you as surreal and vivid dreams plagued you, making it hard to lay back down once you were waking from them with gasping breath and confusing thoughts.

You don’t dwell on the happenings of the night Cala demanded of you. He hadn’t touched you, not beyond his harsh and brash show of possession in the bath house. But the things he had said to you and the way he demanded you touch him had been something you hadn’t wanted. His once chaste kisses turning into his tongue breaking the seal of your lips as he bid you goodnight at the end of each dinner as he dropped you off at your bedroom door. It all felt like a show, a way to display his possession of you to the man who was your night guard. But despite his now harsh kisses that stole your breath in the worst way, you worried for Aliit having to witness the behavior. It had been…something you didn’t like to think about.

It was definitely something you didn’t talk about. With anyone.

The only consolation was that your headaches seemed to abate, the ringing in your ears no longer springing up at random moments. Despite being your night guard, Aliit was now a prominent figure that accompanied you to each visit to the medical wing. They were still as foggy as the memories of your time before the accident, but you felt something shift inside. Mind no longer seeming to work in overdrive to recall things, errant memories of traveling to unknown places alongside faintly familiar figures becoming something you felt throughout the days.

You were consumed by the mere thought of Aliit on the other side of your bedroom door. He often started the night off inside the room, heeding the orders of Prince Cala. Though he often stepped outside once you fell asleep, the door right behind him should he need to retreat at the sound of footsteps to keep up appearances. He was always so serious, so still. Never moving at the errant sounds of the palace. Of the other guards doing their rounds within the many halls. Always on alert, though his eyes hardly moved to give it away.

“I know it’s late,” You started to say as you opened the bedroom door. Aliit was immediately turning to face you, his hands clasped behind his back. “But do you want to come in for some tea?”

“Of course, mesh’la.”

He busied himself readying the tea in the small nook that housed a hotplate and a kettle, giving you a moment of peace to gather yourself from your most recent almost waking dream. You had been in a different desert, at a different time. Alone. It hadn’t been anything spectacular, you had simply been living out a day with a routine that felt like it had once been your reality.

“Can I be honest with you, since we’ve…bonded over our shared time?”

“You can share anything with me and I’ll listen, mesh’la.” His voice, his words always so sincere with you, it caused warmth to flare in your chest. You chewed on your bottom lip, contemplating voicing the thoughts that had been consuming you lately. The twice a month check ups having been unsupervised by your mother, Aliit and Cynth taking over those duties. Ever since they had entered the palace you felt…like something was off kilter. But you also felt like… some things were beginning to shift into focus.

You recalled the feeling of heat from a different desert, from a different time in your life. The same from so many of your dreams. Countered by the plush landscape ripe with trees and temperate air. Dreams that felt all too real consumed your sleeping hours, a blurry figure swathed in shining metal beginning to appear beside you in each one.

And while you didn’t know why or how, you began to associate the same sense of calm and comfortability the figure stirred in you with that of Aliit beside you more and more. You let your eyes wander over his seated form now, beside you in the small longue area across from your bed. The room was still far too expansive, making you feel like a bird trapped in a gilded cage as your mother prohibited you from leaving the palace grounds more and more as the wedding loomed near.

“I…I don’t feel like this is my life. I feel like I belong somewhere else, with someone else.”

His eyes soften, the brown of them comforting as they watch you struggle to find the right words. You don’t feel as if he is waiting for something, like so many others you interact with. He seems to hold genuine interest in what you have to say, never glossing over anything even if it seems childish or meaningless.

“I can’t explain it, it just feels like…there’s something more for me. And I know I should be happy here, it’s a beautiful planet, the stars are so bright at night, the ocean is so clear. Anything I need is just a request away, my intended is very attentive and wants for me to have nothing. Even if he’s…altered the way we spend some of our time together. My mother, she cares for me despite my memory of her being foggy. But…Maker, I feel like this is all wrong. Like I belong somewhere else that I can’t recall. That the person meant to be beside me…is someone else. And I feel homesick for the things I can’t remember. For the lands and planets I see in my dreams. For the figure beside me in each and every one.”

You can sense that he has something to say, but he remains quiet. His eyes the only thing speaking in the comfortable silence of your bedroom. Too many words and thoughts swirling behind the chocolate depths as they regard you. He only offers them and a hand for you to reach out to, sliding your fingers between his and reveling in the warmth of his skin against yours. After a long while, his soothing voice comforts you in a way that takes your breath away.

“We’ll get you back to feeling like yourself, where you belong. I swear it to you, mesh’la.” He shifted from his own chair to sit atop the low table, heights almost matched now. He leaned forward, but you didn’t shy away from him, giving into the moment when he pressed his clothed forehead to yours. Breath hitching, your eyes fluttered shut, unable to take in the emotions swirling behind his beautiful eyes as they caught the lanterns light. He felt…he felt familiar. More like the shape of the man you had been feeling when you first woke up, though you knew it to be a trick of your imagination. How could you possible feel such a connection with a stranger you had only met after your accident when your memory was something hidden deep inside of you or gone altogether?

“Th-thank you, ner kar’ta.” The foreign words falling from your lips surprise you as much as they seem to do him. You repeat them in a questioning tone, his hand tightening around yours. Your eyes flew open, gentle sentiment behind the words not lost on you in that moment. Hope was shining in the man’s eyes, so close…even as he leans back to look you over.

“Do you know what that means?” You could tell that he holds back other questions, other concerns as he regards you with a hardness behind his eyes. But it isn’t aimed at you, the ire you see flare up in their depths. It’s never for you, the things you see flicker in them. He only ever offers you the softest version of himself. Enough so that Cynth has begun to tease you of it during your time together during the day.

“I-I think it means ‘my heart’.” You hesitate, feeling like it’s far too intimate a sentiment for someone who is not your intended. But you feel it, in the very depths of your soul, that it is okay to call the man sitting beside you so.

“It does.” He almost sounds proud and you rather like the tone coming from him. It stirs something low in your stomach, almost as strong as that once occurrence of arousal before everything shifted between you Prince Cala.

“I don’t know why I said that, I don’t…even know what language that is. How-“

“Ner kar’ta, ni kar'tayl gar darasuum.” His eyes don’t leave yours, filling you up with something you don’t think you’ve ever felt, fragmented memory seeming to stitch together at the flash of emotion. Suddenly, you feel the gentle breeze and cresting sunlight and you’re standing in the midst of an open field. A figure is standing before you, decked head to toe in beautiful, shining armor with their hands held out in front of them in a placating manner. The silver swathed figure from your dreams in full focus now as you hold Aliit’s hand in yours. Fingers feeling the warmth of him as they caress his skin, the energy from him that is so soothing. Behind him is the shadow of a large ship and you long to be back there in that moment even as it feels both hauntingly foreign and familiar to you.

“What is going on here? You’re supposed to be at your post protecting my daughter.” The harsh voice of your mother surges into the room from the now open doorway. You spring from the man beside you, heart beating harshly in your chest, a barrage of emotions flaring in you. The rattling of the fine porcelain on the low table separating you startling you. Your eyes move from the vibrating cups and plates to the man beside you, and then to the glaring and obviously upset form of your mother.

“He’s following the orders of Prince Cala, who explicitly stated that I am to be supervised at all times, mother.”

“I highly doubt the prince instructed this man to dote such attention on you to the point of holding your hand in the middle of the night!”

Anger and distaste for the woman across from you flares hot over your entire body, energy igniting inside of you that feels both far too familiar and far too foreign. The very same energy you had been feeling more and more in the things and people around you, almost as if it was a secondary thing to breathing, to existing. The glare marring her features twists in your mind and you feel the weight of heavy metal around your wrists, your ankles, your neck. You feel the phantom dredge of something chemical buzzing in your veins and you know- you know that she’s the cause for such sensations.

“I want to know exact details of my accident.” You demand, aware of Aliit standing at attention behind you, his muscles tense just as yours are. Though you do not fear him, you fear the woman who calls herself your mother. Pushing through, you meet her eyes with your own and something in your own expression surprises her. Feeding off of that genuine reaction, not something that seems so calculated, you demand of her, “I want to know what happened to me.”

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fushipurro · 3 days

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Red Lights Red Flags

Chapter 8 - Secrets & Betrayal

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☆ Content: 18+ MDNI, implied non-con (two very brief sentences), emotional hurt/little comfort, physical violence, degradation, angst

☆ Word Count: 3.6k

As warmer weather takes hold and the trees begin to flower, it’s a sure sign that spring is on the horizon. Not a cloud in the sky dares to block out the sun, and all the mounds of snow are but a distant memory. However. in its wake, the ground is left exceedingly parched, with no telling of rain to cleanse its thirst.

With these conditions, many of the courtesans have taken to spend their daylight hours enjoying the light out on porches or in the courtyard of the brothel. Shion had made plans with you ahead of time to enjoy some tea with her, alongside a few others close to her.

You enter the courtyard, making your way towards the gazebo with a tray in hand, only to see that the guests of honor or none other than two other high-ranking flowers ─ Murasaki and Tsubaki.

The latter perks up upon your arrival, cheerfully pressing her palms together. “You must be Marigold,” she greets with a rich, sultry voice, “Come, sit with us, my dear.”

You dip your head in a slight bow, setting the tray down and distributing ceramic cups evenly filled with fresh tea first. In the presence of Shion alone, you feel comfortable being yourself without all the extra mannerisms expected of you. But with this being your first formal meeting with the reigning courtesans, you decide it best to appear proper and refined.

The last thing you want is another ordeal about respect or remembering your place like Botan had beaten into you.

The three flowers carry the weight of the conversation while you opt to sit in silence, enjoying this chance to be in their presence. Contrary to the rivalries you’ve witnessed in your working career, these women act as though they’re friends ─ sisters even.

There’s no tension or complaints, simply humor and mundane conversations. At least, until Tsubaki narrows in on a topic that unravels that momentary peace.

“Have you heard the news yet?” She asks, her question posed towards the aster.

Shion’s response comes with a smile laced in underlying sorrow, “I have, it’s quite a shame.” There’s a brief pause as she sips on her tea. You glance up to them with a raised brow, unsure what they’re referring to. “I’ll miss days like these after you’re gone.”

“As will I,” Murasaki speaks with a somber tone, but her lips form a smile nearly betraying those feelings. “I am looking forward though to my new life.”

“Where are you going?” you ask, unable to sustain your curiosity any further.

“I’m to be sold to one of my top clients ─ an official from the Kamo Clan,” she tells you, and it makes perfect sense now to you.

Buying out courtesans from their duties is a common tradition, but the price ranges based on the status they hold. For someone to have the funds needed to acquire the wisteria herself, they would have to belong to one of the founding clans.

The thought of it forms a new question in your mind, one that’s been bugging you for quite some time.

What about your debt?

You were among the dozens sent to the Gojo estate ─ the payments for those services would have to be a large chip off the debt you hold. How much more could you possibly owe at this point?

“Do you believe your love will do the same for you soon?” Tsubaki asks of you.

Your eyes widen at the insinuation that she knows your secret. You look to Shion for an answer, but her eyes remain closed with a knowing smile as she takes another sip.

“Don’t look surprised, Shion’s told me all about your routine escapades,” she snickers teasingly so, “Quite the little scandal, but one I would never feel good about spoiling so don’t fret, my dear.”

You sigh, relieved from her words. “I can’t imagine he needs to,” you remark. “Once my debt is paid off, I’ll be leaving of my own accord.”

There’s a sudden shift in the atmosphere, the air stilling as each of the three exchange unspoken words with one another.

“Sweetheart, I’m not sure if I should be the one telling you this but…” Tsubaki’s eyes flicker to Shion, who nods with approval. “…you should know that there is no walking out of here without a price.”

Huh? That can’t be right?

“What about my debt? What’s the point of it then?” Panic settles in over your features, making you feel as though everything you’ve been told has been all one big lie confessed to you now for the first time.

“Control,” Shion says. “Some come to the pleasure district on their own accord, while others are born into it.” She looks down at her cup, eyes coating with a thin layer of gloss. “Then there are those like you ─ a victim of circumstance. What you call your ‘debt’ is merely the price for your life that Hanami has already paid up for.”

“H-how am I supposed to leave then? To be free?” Your voice cracks between words. “Toji has a bounty on his head, he can’t just walk in here with a pouch of gold and leave with me!” Tears spill from your eyes despite your efforts to remain poised.

“Shh, little one,” Shion coos, grasping your hand between hers, rubbing smooth shapes over the top. “Hope is not yet lost for you, do not give up.”

You don’t, or rather can’t answer right away as you need a minute to calm down. “What can I even do?” you whisper.

“For now, nothing. The answer will reveal itself to you in time,” she answers, cryptic as ever, but it’s not good enough for you ─ no, not this time. You’re tired of secrets and want a straight answer.

“Are there any other ways to leave besides being bought?”

“Tainting your value,” Tsubaki informs, earning a scolding glare from the aster.

Shion turns back to you, sighing softly, “As Tsubaki says, that is an option, but not one I recommend. I tried it once, but it made no difference in the end except for losing a piece of myself in the process.”

The hurt in her voice tempers your anger. “May I ask what happened?”

The motions of her thumb cease, but in turn, her grip tightens around you. “I met a man I truly loved around the time I first arrived here, much like yourself. My family had sold me to pay off their debt, and I sought solace in the only one who understood me under the moonlight.”

She pauses, a ghost of a smile appearing as she recalls the memory through her mirrored form in her teacup.

“Hanami had her reasons for wanting to maintain my purity, but I desired an escape above all else. When the day came that my moon-cycle disappeared, I was overjoyed to finally taint that vision of hers.”

Her expression drops into one filled with sorrow and residual spite. Tsubaki and Murasaki keep their eyes on Shion throughout it all, supporting her in silence as they too are reliving this moment in time.

“Hanami was mad, unimaginably so, but I could tell from her wicked eyes that she had something new in mind. Right then and there, I knew that if I were to have a daughter, she would live a fate worse than mine. She would’ve been born and raised, in service to this brothel until the day she dies as Hanami’s perfect gem, carefully crafted as such by her own hands.”

You grimace at this revelation, knowing all too well that she’s right. Hanami at her core is a twisted curse, a cruel woman who cares nothing for others. With how often Shion treats you like her own daughter, you finally understand why after this.

She is a mother, or at least was.

“I was kept in a cage for a while after, but not even Hanami could hope to break my spirits. That would become my duty, the night my daughter took her first breath of life, I had to let go.”

She spares a thoughtful look to Tsubaki who you conclude must have been at her side when it all occurred. As one of the oldest courtesans in this brothel alone, she must have all sorts of history to tell.

“I hope when my darling little Mei grows up, she’ll understand why I couldn’t be there for her all this time.” Shion concludes her tale with a one sole teardrop falling from her eye onto the surface of her tea. A wave ripples through, soon settling back to an eerie calm.

You take a few moments before responding, “I am so sorry, Shion. I can’t even begin to imagine how you must have felt.”

“I truly hope you never know the pain of losing one of your own, my little Marigold.”

“That crone never has forgiven you for that, has she?” Tsubaki snorts. “Even with the stack she’s getting from Kamo, I’m betting she’ll be out for blood soon enough.”

“Relief is what she should feel for not having me around with my technique to worry about,” Murasaki retorts with an amused face, but her words confuse you.

Technique?

“My birth family may have thought of me as a stain for it, but Noritoshi shows much more delicacy on the matter. I’m certain we’ll have a true, loving family with each other.”

“What do you mean by techni–“

“Excuse me,” someone interrupts. You and the three turn to a courtesan standing just outside the gazebo. “My apologies, but Hanami is requesting your presence,” the woman says, looking directly to you.

Shion releases your hand, almost begrudgingly so with cautious intent. Whatever the case, you can’t refuse an audience with the proprietor, so, you stand and bid farewell to the flowers.

The courtesan who came for you urges you to follow her, but along the way you realize she isn’t leading you to Hanami’s Rose Room. In fact, they’re taking you the complete opposite way, down a familiar stretch of hallways only to stop in front of a set of doors you hoped never to have to enter through again.

The Peony Room.

You now recognize the woman at your side to be one of Botan’s own, reality dawning on you that whatever is inside cannot be good. They slide the door open before you can react, all while your heart starts to beat a mile a minute, threatening to escape the confines of your chest if this keeps up.

The group inside only makes it worse. Not only are Botan and Hanami present, but in the center is a man you know to be one of the Zenin Clan’s own ─ Jinichi Zenin.

It’s instantaneous the way fear takes hold of your body, draining you of color, leaving you feeling cold and clammy. His piercing gaze alone is enough to have every hair on your body standing, your mind begging you to run while you still can.

You wouldn’t get far anyways.

“Sit. Now,” Hanami decrees, with a low growl that forces you right to your knees. “Care to explain what you’ve been hiding?”

You swallow thickly, looking down at your trembling hands folded over one another on the tatami. “W-what do you mea–“

“Don’t play stupid,” Botan scoffs. “We know all about the secret you’ve been keeping.”

Your eyes widen.

“Did you honestly believe you could hide it while under my roof?” Hanami clicks her tongue, her patience thinning. “I certainly don’t let you live here for free out of the kindness of my heart.” Her words are anything but kind, instead dripping with animosity.

Jinichi raises his hand, motioning for their silence. “Where is my brother?” he then inquires, his voice noticeably calmer than the two women.

“I-I don’t know,” you reply, meek as ever from the weight of his gaze.

“Did no one ever teach you respect? You should know better than to lie to me.” Jinichi’s eyes narrow with malice as he looks down on you. “Now I’ll ask again. Where is Toji,” he repeats in a commanding tone, rich in hostility.

His calmness was but an act to fool you, and it failed. Now he can resort to his other means.

“I don’t know!” You lift your face to meet his, tears coating your cheeks. “He doesn’t tell me where he goes!” You tell him the truth, only because it can’t betray Toji. You really don’tknow where he is.

“You lying bitch!” Botan spits with unrepressed fury. “What is it that you think will happen? Do you honestly believe he’s going to come ‘rescue’ poor little you if you protect him? Don’t you get that he’s just using you for his pleasure and nothing more?”

“He’s not!” you argue, baring your fangs at her with fire in your eyes.

That’s not who Toji is.

“Don’t you talk back to me! Did you not learn your lesson after–“

“Enough!” Jinichi bellows, causing you both to flinch.

He exhales heavily after a moment. “Come here,” he orders.

You don’t move, not yet at least as you stare up to him with a fearful look. Obeying his command will only send you further into the demon’s maw.

“Do not make me repeat myself.”

You swallow again, your throat devoid of any moisture that’s been sapped. The urge to run intensifies again as you shuffle closer, even if it’s a futile effort. You stop, but it isn’t enough yet for his liking, so he urges you even closer with a two-finger motion until you’re within arm’s reach.

Slap!

The force sends your face down against the tatami with an audible thud that sends your head spinning. He then grabs a chunk of your hair, lifting you painfully back up while at the same time drawing his face closer. You cry out in pain, but he and everyone else in the room ignores your plead for mercy.

“We’ll get the information we need from you one way or another,” he warns, releasing you from his hold only to send you flying backwards with a sharp kick to your stomach area, knocking the wind straight out of your lungs.

Your screams are silenced from whatever bones just snapped in your body. You lay there on the ground, clutching yourself, feeling a pain worse than anything you’ve felt before in your life.

Botan’s laugh echoes throughout the room like that of a hyena, cackling away at your misery. “Oh, how I’m going to enjoy this,” she says with a sadistic intent.

As you lay nearly lifeless atop the frigid, stone tile, you stare up through the bars of your window at the only thing you have to keep you company ─ the moon. Even then, she’s barely visible, hidden away behind a curtain of black. It’s like the moon or the stars can’t bear to see you in your current state.

Jinichi had dragged you through the halls and passed other courtesans in a cruel display of power. You were the perfect opportunity to make a point of what happens to those who cross the leadership of their country, or more specifically, the Zenin Clan.

From Hanami’s request, you were thrown into one of the many basement rooms that hold more of a resemblance to a prison cell than anything. The walls and floor are made of stone, with iron bars to contain those deemed defilers. This must be where Shion was once held during the many months of her pregnancy.

Another cage within a cage… how ironic.

Jinichi abused you for some time after, demanding information you don’t even have for his own selfish desire to end Toji’s life. He didn’t stop when you were beaten and bruised, nor when your body gave out as black spots filled your vision until nothing remained.

Hanami was there when you first woke up after, feeling especially sore and dirty ─ no doubt used for acts you weren’t even fully aware were happening as you were unconscious. But that wasn’t the end of your torture.

“I had hopes you’d grown into a functional tool, but it appears you need to be reshaped,” Hanami muses, staring down at you with a mixture of anger and disappointment. “Don’t get yourself caught up in feelings, you’re nothing more than a hole to be filled. Remember that.”

It hurt, unimaginably so, even making you forget about the pain of your broken ribs for a short time. None of it however could possibly compare to the words Botan spoke in passing only a few days after.

That day, she had chosen to be the one to bring you your meal ─ a tray with some scraps and rotting fruit, topped off with some of her fresh spit as seasoning. She held it just out of reach from you, as far as the chain around your ankle would allow you to move from the wall.

“You want to know how I found out about your little secret?” she laughs in a wicked tune. “You have daddy dearest to thank for that one,” Botan reveals, tearing a piece from your heart.

“After you took Toji from me, I decided to take something from you…” She sneers, mocking your distressed expression. “It wasn’t hard since he owes his debt to me, but I’m glad I managed to convince that old hag to let him back in here for my plan.”

The contents of the tray spill out across the dirty floor as Botan thrusts it towards you, taking her leave with a trail of shrill laughter in her wake. You pay no mind to the state of the food ─ too hungry to care, too tired to fight.

This is your fate.

If you had any tears left to spare, you might break down further into this abyss. In the end, your father betrayed you again, only this time by playing with your feelings for his advantage.

What a fool you were to believe he was changing, not when the only person he ever truly cared about is dead and gone. Why else would he have been absent from so much of your life?

This is all his fault.

But loving him was your fault for thinking the blood you share made it any different.

Curse him.

It wasn’t only moments from your life; it was your whole family’s as well. Perhaps that’s why Akane couldn’t bear to be born, or why your mother fell ill in the time after. Was his absence the true reason she declined? Did he truly love her or was that also some façade?

Curse him.

You hate that in the depths of your darkness, these whispering voices sound like music to your ears. They’re all you have right now and the only thing making you feel even the slightest bit better. Does it make you a bad person for wanting to listen more?

In your weakest moment, it’s all you can do.

“Curse you, Daisuke,” you weakly mumble to whatever shadow is listening.

You’re no father of mine any longer.

Toji was right to hold worries over the man’s sudden return, and you regret not paying it more mind. Although, now you understand Toji more than you would like to admit. It’s a wonder how Toji is even related to Jinichi, let alone the rest of his fucked-up family.

But maybe that’s okay.

Family is what you make of it after all. It’s where your heart and soul come together to make a loving bond that transcends all else. You don’t need blood relation to share that with someone. You just need the right person to trust with that piece of you. To trust with you.

“Are you falling in love?” The aster’s words from before ring in your head.

“Yes, Shion,” you declare with the stars as your witness this time, rather than the darkness. “I am in love with him.”

A cawing sound pulls you back from your reverie. Outside your puny clerestory now in place of the night sky is a piebald crow, hopping along the dirt. You force yourself to sit up, clenching your jaw tightly together as sharp pain shoots up the side of your body in agonizing bursts.

The crow has something with it that it uses its beak to push between the bars until it falls onto your bedroll. A tangerine. You glance back up to the bird as it almost appears to be examining you before taking flight, leaving you alone once more.

With shaky hands, you peel away the skin of the fruit. Juices overflow with each bite that seem to replenish the tears in your eyes that had long since dried up. Between each bite of the ambrosial treat, you wipe your cheeks dry using the torn sleeves of your tarnished marigold robes.

A common theme you feel ─ to have something you deem perfect become stained and anything but.

You manage the strength to stand up fully again, this time on two legs, clutching your side with one arm. From the tips of your toes, you look out into what little of the world you can see for the first time in what’s felt like weeks but has merely been days.

In the distance, there’s a warm, glowing light bouncing off the clouds that rest low on the skies, moving quickly across.

Dawn? No…

You’ve witnessed the light of dawn enough in your time with Toji to paint a clear picture in all its possible colors in your sleep.

This is different.

What you see growing ever closer to you isn’t the sun’s golden hues, nor is the smell that hits your nose that of dewdrops and freshly bloomed flowers.

No, what rages on in the distance is disastrous in nature with only one clear desire ─ to devour everything in its path.

A true calamity.

Fire.

☆ Notes: “wow, what a crazy turn of events with a cliffhanger to top it all off! I can’t wait to read what happens next!” I mutter to myself, staring at the blinking cursor of an empty word document.

Fr though, this was a little intense to write since I kept having all kinds of different ideas and trying to figure out how I wanted certain scenes to play out, but things are happening!!! I’m super excited for the next chapter but you guys miiight kill me depending on what I decide to do with certain things :’)

☆ Taglist: @fandomtrash5092 @catmania-choco

#toji fushiguro #jjk #jjk toji #toji zenin #jujutsu kaisen #toji x reader #jjk au #toji x female reader #toji fushiguro x reader #toji x y/n #toji x you #courtesan!reader #ronin!toji

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yuri-is-online · 2 days

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I was thinking about Kailm and Kailm Yutu. How is their relationship after Yutu makes the jump into the past, did Yutu ever run into him before going into the past?

I know you mentioned Kalim wanting to help Yutu out when it comes to his feelings towards Yuu (not knowing that this is the only time he’s ever seen Yuu healthy and without memory loss) which is really of sweet❤️ also Jamil side eyeing the Yutu since they don’t know a lot about him

(he’s probably considered using his unique magic on him) I can also see Yutu being a mellowed out version of Kalim.

As we talked about here Kalim died long before Yutu ever got a chance to meet him, but he was spared the fate of becoming a blot phantom like most of the other boys. The Kalim his Yutu sees is a skeleton trapped in the robe of the Sorcerer of the Sands next to Jamil's, it's traumatic but by the time he gets there Yutu has seen a lot of death and destruction. Not that it dulls the pain any.

And one small note before we continue, Jamil states in Book 6 that his unique magic does not work like Jade's does, he cannot get people to tell him the truth by hypnotizing them, he just makes the suggestible to his orders. When he thought he hypnotized Azul in Book 4, he would not have been able to make him tell everything he knew about everyone on campus, but he would have been able to order him to open up his books so Jamil could take a look around. Jamil is decent enough at reading people's body's language to know that Yutu is interested in getting close to Kalim, and that's enough to make him suspicious and someone to watch out for.

notes: they/them used for Yuu, for context on the fyuuture kid au can be found here and here. You can find even more stuff for it on my masterlist under the series section.

Kalim! Yutu was the picture of an easy baby. He was almost always smiles and giggles from the day he was born, seldom fussy and went down for naps easy, Yuu got a lot of comments about how lucky they were for having such a sweet baby. He keeps that easy going temperament as he gets older and the compliments keep coming, but Yutu isn't exactly fond of them. If people really think he's such a sweet boy they can compliment him without insulting his parent.

A lot of Kalim's pushiness, from my perspective, comes from the environment in which he was raised. In the absence of servants and siblings, Yutu turns into a much quieter person. He's less like a party and more like a cafe in the afternoon, still busy and filled with noise but with a noticeably relaxing effect on his environment. His peers like him and their parents like him more, and though Yutu makes a point to be nice to everyone he is very picky about who he labels his friends.

To Kalim! Yutu, your amnesia and the strange pain you feel when trying to remember is a serious medical issue, and he doesn't have a lot of patience for people who dismiss other's problems just because they don't understand them. He appreciates the little things you can tell him about his dad, how he was genuinely loving and kind person, but he doesn't want to know about those things if it causes your condition to worsen when you try to remember. As he gets older he tries to actively shut down conversation about his dad because he doesn't want to deal with the consequences. He remembers those little anecdotes from when he was younger and holds on to them tightly, kind and loving it's generic but the soft look in your eyes suggests the quality was anything but. Yutu can live with that.

He's very passionate about food and drink. He's not exactly a great cook but he's very knowledgeable about coffee, teas, and wines. He is especially fond of coffee and likes roasting his own beans when he gets older. If Yuu like coffee then he constantly is trying to make you new drinks and if you don't then he'll try to find something he can make that you will enjoy. Even if that's just slicing up some fruits and adding them to a lemonade, though he might feel a bit sad at how little work that is compared to something else.

Less of a party person than Kalim, though that's not really saying much since it seems like he'd have a celebration every other day of the week if he could. Yutu likes to sing and dance, especially if he can do that with his friends, but he doesn't like a lot of the people he goes to school with in his world. When he arrives in Twisted Wonderland that changes somewhat. There might not be much to celebrate in the future but the people are worth their weight in gold. When he manages to track down all of his friends who came back to the past with him, he's definitely going to throw a party in Ramshackle. After he begs for permission of course.

Being transported to Twisted Wonderland scares Kalim! Yutu. Learning that his father was the heir to a powerful merchant family (not that they have much of that power or wealth anymore on account of the world ending) and that he is a mage of all things is a lot of responsibility he is not sure that he's prepared for. He is especially not prepared for the amount of in fighting that the al Asim family is doing, though he does have a bit of help from Grandpa Crewel and his aunt.

One of the o.c.s I came up with for this au was a younger sister for Kalim. The youngest of all his siblings to be specific, the name I gave her was Sehrish and her existence is not exclusive to Kalim! Yutu. She goes back in time with all of the other Yutus too, but she is especially close to Kalim! Yutu. They have the same struggle of wanting to honor Kalim's legacy, but being skeptical about the hatred a lot of the older family members have for Jamil. Sehrish was too young to really remember either Kalim or Jamil, but everyone she's talked to who actually bothered to get to know her older brother said that he never hated Jamil. Crewel especially was very blunt about how he saw the Asim family's treatment of Jamil and what it meant for him professionally, and Idia is very clear that no matter what might have happened while they were at NRC it had nothing to do with this current mess.

It's something that Yutu keeps in mind when he travels back in time, but fuck if he doesn't find Jamil scary. He swears if he stays too long in the same room with him he's going to end up confessing to everything. That he's from the future, that Kalim is his dad, that time he broke something really important and expensive of yours and buried it in the back yard instead of just owning up to it, and that Jamil is going to be executed by the al Asim's sometime in the future. Not that he does say any of that but it's on a constant loop in his head every time Jamil is around. Which tends to be when Kalim is also around which makes things so much worse.

Kalim really likes Yutu. Every time I sit down to write for him and take a look at his voice lines I am reminded of what a genuinely nice and loving person he is, and how much he really cares about Yuu. He's warm, and knowing a part of that warmth is what created you makes Yutu feel so overwhelmingly loved even though Kalim doesn't know who he is. Yutu's calmer kindness is something Kalim really admires and looks up to, he's trying to be more aware of how imposing he can be on people and he thinks Yutu is a great example of the balance he wants to reach.

"oh?" Yutu does not seem happy with the compliment, even if Kalim can tell he is pleased by it. "I appreciate you saying so, but I'm not sure if you'll pick up on what you want from watching me... perhaps this is something you could talk to Yuu about? I find that they often give very good advice."

"They do don't they?" But if Yutu really believes that then why is he so sad about it?

Kalim wants to make people happy. That's the entire reason he throws so many parties and why he is so willing to spend money on his friends. So when he sees that something about being around Yuu is making Yutu sad, he wants to know what he can do to help. Jamil picks up on this and tries to point out that it might be a very private thing and none of their business, which would be true under normal circumstances but Yutu's very much aren't. At first Kalim just tries to focus on getting to know Yutu and his hobbies while sharing his own. He invites him to Scarabia's parties and gets real excited when he sees how much Yutu knows about tea. That's really important in the Scalding Sands! He insists on teaching him all about what he knows and for him to talk to Jamil if he has any other questions. This is what finally gets Jamil to relax around Yutu because he sees how the kid goes out of his way to not make work for him, pretty much exactly like Yuu does, which is a good point in Jamil's book.

I like the idea of Kalim learning who Yutu is on accident, he has a lot of voice lines about offering to tie a head scarf for Yuu so I could see him maybe offering the same for Yutu. And given that Kalim can be a bit pushy maybe he doesn't listen to Yutu's protests and takes off the hood, giving him and Jamil a very good look at his face.

"Oh wow you kind of look like me, huh?!" Kalim laughs and sets about wrapping the scarf around Yutu's head, while Jamil stares at him in such stressed shock that Yutu knows he's not getting out of this by lying. "We could be related!"

"That's- I'm really sorry!!!" Yutu instantly bows in apology to Jamil messing up Kalim's work.

"H-hey no need to do that!" The tone of Jamil's voice brings Kalim down to earth as he looks a bit closer at Yutu, and then towards Yuu for a long, good look and then back to Yutu again.

Yutu has to explain himself to everyone a few times before they fully understand what's going on. He has the benefit of being able to use Oasis Maker, which proves that he is very much a member of the al-Asim family, and his extensive knowledge of Yuu's world proves his story is true (as if Kalim's excited tackle hug at hearing Yutu just say "you are my dad and Yuu is my parent" didn't) but the idea of a future like he is describing is really difficult for Kalim to comprehend, let alone Jamil and Yuu. Jamil is especially shocked that Yutu doesn't hate him and sees him as someone who deserves to be protected. I could see him actually saying that he sees it as his responsibility as the heir of the al-Asim family and while Jamil doesn't trust the purity of Kalim's intentions, he does trust Yuu's. And after a brief bit of consideration, he decides he'll extend that trust to Yutu too. Still thinks he's surrounded by idiots though.

Of course Kalim wants to throw a party upon learning that he and Yuu get together and have a kid. It's literally one of the most important things he could ever celebrate, but instead of doing it on short notice it's something he decides to plan with a very specific purpose. If what Yutu is saying is true about the future then he's going to need help. Jamil is very smart, but Kalim somehow doubts that he'll have all of the resources he needs to prevent the end of the apocalypse if he's asked to do it on his own. The planning is a joint effort between Kalim, Yutu, and Jamil to pick who best to let in on the secret out of all their NRC classmates. Kalim promises to hold off on other party planning so Jamil can focus on this, he'd rather have all of the time in the world to spoil his spouse and son instead of the few short years he has at NRC.

Speaking of Yuu, Kalim is very worried about how you feel about all of this. Are you afraid of what Yutu told you? Does it make you question staying in Twisted Wonderland, or your relationship with him? He still really wants to be with you, there's a lot of stuff he still doesn't know about you yet that he desperately wants to, and so much about himself that he wants to offer up. I think upon learning about Yutu's existence he would ask to talk to you alone and tell you very honestly about how he feels about you. He wishes to be yours for time and all eternity, and he is willing to wait and put in the work to be worthy of you and your trust. Yes he says this even if you aren't together yet and yes he means it, especially the waiting bit.

Kalim is already such a supportive, if overindulgent, person and that carries in to how he is as a father. Sure he's not the smartest person in the world, but he knows how to get people on his side. I feel like he sees it as his role to worry about the future and not Yutu's, but he also accepts that because Yutu didn't grow up with him that he might not be willing to let Kalim take up his burdens. That won't stop him from trying to get him to relax, from what Yutu told him he never really got to experience the Scalding Sands and that just won't do. While a trip home isn't on the table right now, he can still teach Yutu everything he knows, hopefully he'll find pride and comfort in knowing about where his father is from and it will replenish his motivation to fight. First order of business on that list? Introducing him to the magic carpet and taking him for a ride!

#<3 asks #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #future kid au #kalim al asim x reader #kalim al asim x yuu #Sehrish's name supposedly means sunrise and i like the image of that coupled with oasis maker #sun showers are beautiful and that's the sort of vibe i was hoping to give her

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freakinator · 22 hours

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some disjointed and kinda incoherent thoughts about the s5ers + jepexx:

4c - nature vs nurture, his nature of being a somewhat peaceful generous guy with a somewhat solid sense of justice who wants to be friends with everyone thats the closest thing lifesteal can have to a hermitcrafter vs the way lifesteal itself bends and corrupts those very qualities: seeking vengeance against the abyss after they kept taking advantage of him only to kill him to the point of helping with the orbital cannons, reviving wemmbu over and over again cause he felt bad for him, his own builds being used (or at least attempted to be used in the case of sanctuary) as both slaughterhouse and grave as they eventually turn into rubble

jumper - love that corrupts, holding on so dearly to her teammates (both former and current) and her vision of what lifesteal is supposed to be that shes willing to enact extreme and even horrific measures towards others (particularly zam) to protect them and their memories, limiting herself only for the sole purpose of making said measures hurt even more

minute - good ol' Lifesteal TraumaTM babyyyyy!!!!!! how fitting that the most fanboy-y of the new guys is the one that gets to have the most traditional form of Lifesteal TraumaTM, although idk if its better or worse that he basically speedran almost all forms of it courtesy of the PlayersTM, Wemmbu, and the PMC (all he needs now is to keep failing and dying against an impossible enemy and he'd have a complete set)

pentar - yeah i can see why the PlayersTM love him, he's adapted very well to how lifesteal is although that might just be because he seems to be a very chill guy (of particular mention is when zam did his restaurant bit he just went along with it), that being said he still very much has a lot of hallmarks of being a new guy, one being that hes very reactive which im hoping will change soon since the wemmbu election + the advancement race may have possibly flipped a switch in him

wemmbu - props to this guy for trying so hard to exploit at every opportunity, although i do wonder how differently he would act if he was here for s4 or if he would stay exactly the same as he is now

squiddo - when will they return from the war, has the opposite problem to jepexx wherein she keeps getting dragged into plotlines and essentially forced into adapting to how lifesteal is despite her aversion simply because everyone likes her, she knew basically nothing about its culture and yet shes blended in perfectly, technically nothing is their fault and yet still theyve got blood on her hands

jepexx - when will he return from the war, has the opposite problem to squiddo wherein nobody likes him (ingame) so he keeps being pushed away from plotlines, since hes been here before everyone expects him to behave accordingly and yet the lifesteal he knows of is in s1 and therefore he acts according to that culture even tho the server gone long past that, asserting his will even tho its entirely unwelcomed such as looting corpses right in front of everyone, technically everything thats happened to him is his fault and yet still hes one of the more innocent players simply because of circumstance and skill issues

#mine.txt #lifesteal spoilers #< jic because of jumper lmao

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hamzastic · 9 hours

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I accidentally sent this to your other blog I forgot you have a new one! Since they’re on vacation I needed something nsfw for a trip with Hamzah. Either a solo trip or a trip with everyone and you have a be sneaky and creative of your time alone. Or both versions! 👀 I’m very desperate right now

i love this idea sooooo much, i hope you enjoyyyy baby <33 warnings: grinding on his lap !!??? i think thats it lol …

𓆩ᥫ᭡𓆪༊*·˚˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

going on your first vacation with your boyfriend and his two closest friends was definitely going to be one of your favorite memories with hamzah. swimming in the beautiful blue ocean, having late night talks while sitting around the campfire, and getting close with the two people who meant most to hamzah (aside from you of course) it was amazing.

but one part you didn't think about before agreeing to come on vacation was the lack of privacy you'd have with your boyfriend. you knew it was a group trip but god it was hard to find an alone moment with hamzah. his best friend martin was constantly following him around like a lost dog, and you didn't want to ask martin or mandy for a few hours alone with hamzah, it was your first trip with them and you didn't want to give the impression that you were some clingy bitch who needed to be in the company of her boyfriend 24/7.

you were all sat in the hot tub, it was nearing midnight, you were all sharing stories from your childhood. as martin went on about some story from sixth grade, you slowly inched closer to hamzah in the hot tub, you were desperate to get him alone tonight. him in his swim trunks and full muscled body on display, you needed him.

you palmed right over his dick through his trunks, he twitched and gave you 'really? right now?' look. you batted your lashed at hamzah and gave a smile, one that he couldn't say no to.

"we're tired. gonna head to bed." hamzah made his way out of the hot tub, you followed behind him. "goodnight guys."

"goodnight." you said it too. despite you both thinking otherwise, it was painfully obvious that you both were not 'tired'.

"can't go a few days without dick?" hamzah jokes, but you don't really take it as one. he's sat up against the headboard of your shared hotel room bed. you're kneeled beside him, practically pouting because you just want him to manhandle you without having to ask.

"it's not funny hamzah." you roll your eyes.

"i'm kidding," he chuckles to himself. "c'mere." he pats his crotch. you take no time making yourself comfortable in his lap, already grinding against his growing bulge.

"kiss me."

hamzah obeys and kisses all along your neck, he knows it's your favorite. you let out small moans, still grinding and one of your hands making it's way up to the top of hamzah's head, running your fingers through his damp curls.

his hands make their way aside your thighs, pushing you further down into his lap, he needed more of you. "you're so pretty." he breathes out in-between kisses.

you slid the hand that wasn't occupied in between hamzah's curls down to your hot pink bikini bottoms and moved them to the side, creating more friction between hamzah's swim trunks and you.

"oh my god." you whispered in the crook of hamzah's neck, both of your hands gripping onto hamzah's beefy arms as you felt the knot in your stomach come undone. "fuck." you pulled away from hamzah.

hamzah looked down at the mess you made on his trunks, "messy girl." he teased.

"shut up." you jokingly hit him and made your way off his lap.

#works #hamzahthefantastic headcanons #hamzahthefantastic imagine #hamzahthefantastic x you #hamzahthefantastic x reader #hamzahthefantastic #hamzahthefantastic blurb

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sabotourist · 1 day

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Some thoughts on season 19

This is probably going to be one of the most personal things I ever post on social media. But I have some thoughts.

Sarge and Doc died. Doc wasn't even killed on-screen. Was barely even mentioned until the end. He died having only saved two people in his entire career as a medic. Sarge died, and Donut wasn't even there to see it happen.

Was he off grieving Doc? Was he just doing other stuff? I don't know. But he was gone.

Why was he actually gone? Probably for budget reasons. Time constraints. Studio trouble and issues with the engine or model or whatever else. Writing constraints that forced Donut and Doc into such secondary roles. Into dying off screen. Into not even being there when two people you care so much about die.

But like, how much of that was actually in the narrative's control? They had these limitations to write around, and it put these characters in situations where they couldn't be in narratively satisfying roles.

In some ways, it's the most brutal depiction of what life is like.

When I was 14, I lost touch with my best friend. I just didn't keep my phone on me often at the time. He died. I think, if he had lived, he would have gone on to do some absolutely amazing things. He didn't get to. He called me a couple days before it happened. I didn't see it.

Death isn't fair. But it's not the end.

I think, if the story had had more time, these characters could have had better roles. But life isn't always so kind. Death isn't always so kind. We lose people when we're not looking. We blink and people are gone.

Doc, Sarge, Church, and Tex are dead. Wash was in an institution again. Tucker just went through all that. Grif went back to earth.

That's... that's brutal. Why don't I hate it? On paper, I'd hate it.

I think it might be because it doesn't feel like a goodbye, or even the end. There are loose ends. A lot of them. There's so much pain there, so much healing and moving on to be done. Just because Grif went back to earth doesn't mean he and Simmons don't call all the time. Just because Donut wasn't here to maybe save Sarge doesn't mean he won't be there eventually.

Just because Doc only saved two people doesn't mean it didn't matter.

Life is brutal. Death is brutal. Shit happens. Shit that isn't fair. Whether it's people we love dying, or just studio drama fucking a show.

But... that doesn't mean it's the end.

Doesn't mean Simmons is going to be alone, doesn't mean Doc died for nothing, doesn't mean Sarge's sacrifice meant nothing, doesn't mean Wash or Tucker's lives are ruined, or that Caboose can't have a new best friend.

I like to imagine Donut taking up medical studies after this. Doc saved him. He's going to make damn sure that matters. Maybe Blood Gulch becomes something of a boot camp for some future loser rejects in need of a home that Simmons can guide.

Church, in all his forms, may be gone. But that doesn't mean they're going to be so quick to forget. Leave the past in the past. But still look back from time-to-time. It got you where you were.

Sometimes we pass memories down through stories. Sometimes, just in the choices we make throughout our lives.

But just... unfair things happened. To the show, and to the characters in it. To the people running it. My best friend died when he was 14. Monty Oum died in his prime. Life is tragic. But hey, it's not the end. It's just the start of something new.

Maybe it isn't perfect. Maybe it isn't ideal. Maybe it hurts. Maybe it'll never stop hurting. But it can still be beautiful. it still has meaning.

It may just be a silly show about Halo dudes, but it matters.

Tl;dr: Raven is stupidly sentimental right now

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newwritergirl · 2 days

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Starting over | Part 9

Part 8 | 7 | 6 | 5 | 4 | 3 | 2 | 1

Summary: The relationship of the three former roomies develops further. But the bad memories of y/n's last realtionship make it difficult for her to believe that she's really good enough for Jake and Bradley. But sometimes it only needs a brave aviator to take the lead.

Trigger warnings: 18+!, past abusive relationship, reader has migraines and health issues, reader has a scar, mentions previous assault, au and probably ooc, angst, protective Rooster and Hangman, poly relationship, it gets steamy.

A/N: I tried to make a small summary for this new chapter. Hope you like it. Please reblog if you like my work 🙏😇

Word Count: 2.7k +

It's so warm, not uncomfortably warm but the kind of warmth which feels like a cuddly home. The softness of the sheets and the mattress is like lying on a cloud, that kind of pleasant touch which makes it hard to get up. Before she is even fully awake, y/n smells a sweet masculine odor, so soothing and calming that she would've fallen asleep again. She slowly opens her eyes, silky brown locks, slightly tousled are spread on the pillow she's resting her head on. Bradley, these are Bradley's beautiful locks. Warm steady breaths are hitting her left shoulder. When she turns around she looks directly into the beautiful and peaceful face of the other aviator. His features are completely relaxed, a small smile on his lips like he's having a very pleasant dream. So, the conversation she had with her two roommates last evening wasn't a dream. She's really lying in bed with these two overly gorgeous men. She takes a deep breath to calm her racing heart. It makes her nervous to be near Jake and Bradley but on the other hand she's never felt so safe and calm. This is so weird, how can she feel calm but has a racing heart? This morning almost feels magical.

She gently crawls out of the huge comfortable bed, cautious not to wake the two sleeping men up.

---

Strong muscular arms are enveloping y/n from behind when she is currently preparing coffee for her and her… well how should she call Jake and Bradley? Boyfriends?

A warm and naked chest is pressing into her back, caging her between himself and the kitchen counter.

"Good morning, shortcakes. Why're already up? Rooster was all whiny as he didn't get a cuddle after waking up." Jake breathes into her ear, his voice still thick with sleep and his warm breath making her shiver. He kisses y/n's cheek but slowly turns her around to see her cute and probably flustered face.

Her face grows warm and her cheeks get a slight pink blush. She looks up into Jake's warm eyes but soon her eyes lands on his delicious looking lips. Jake closes the distance and presses his soft lips to hers. A quiet moan is leaving his mouth. It feels so warm, soft and familiar, although it's so new. The feeling frightens the young woman a bit, but she enjoys the feeling of Jake's muscular arms around her and his lips on hers. His hands travel down her body and cupping the back of her thighs. As if she weights nothing he lifts her up and sits her on the kitchen counter. During their heated kiss Jake notices by now that Bradley is out of the bathroom and in the kitchen. The brown haired pilot envelopes his arms around his blonde friend and enjoys watching Jake and y/n share a long and passionate kiss. Still standing behind Jake Bradley leans a bit over the other man's shoulder and reaches out to the small woman sitting on the kitchen counter. With his warm he cups her head and runs his thumb over her flushed cheek. When she feels a third hand on her cheek she opens her eyes and looks directly into his warm brown eyes.

"Good morning, princess. You slept well?" He whispers as he takes a step beside Jake to get closer to y/n and before she has the chance to answer him he also steels a kiss from her plump lips.

Still sitting on the kitchen counter with both her boys in front of her she suddenly grows really shy and also a bit embarrassed.

"Hey princess. Don't get shy on us or are we moving too fast. Please talk to us."

At Bradley's words the flushed woman looks up and sees the two beautiful pilots standing before her.

"No, I'm sorry. It's not too fast. I - I' m just hoping that this is not some cruel dream and I'm about to wake up alone. I'm happy we had the talk yesterday." Y/n can't help herself when a wide smile is spreading across her face. Has she ever been so happy like right now? Probably not. She reaches out and grabs one hand each of the two men in front of her.

"There is the beautiful smile we fell for the first time we saw you." Jake presses a soft kiss on her small hand which holds his in a firm grip.

"What do you think, princess. We take you on a date today. Just the three of us."

---

Their first date was even better than y/n would've ever dreamed of. There was a small fair near Miramar, so Jake and Bradley decided that this would be the perfect start of their Date-Sunday especially after they discovered that she never has been on a fair before. They made it their key task to show y/n that she's the most precious thing for them. To give her the attention she deserves. The whole afternoon was full of smiles, soft touches and shy kisses. It was the best day y/n had in her entire life. She never had a boyfriend this attentive, loving and protective. So she couldn't believe that she now has two men who seem to like her. With her abusive ex she only has bad memories of being in a relationship and in the last corner of her mind she has the huge fear that Jake and Bradley sooner or later are going to be fed up with her. Sick and tired of her emotional baggage, the nightmares or her health condition which can worsen any minute. And there's the uncertainty with her body. Of course she is a beautiful woman. She knows that she looks acceptable. But her scar on her lower back is a prominent reminder of her past and she can't help but feel ugly when she looks in the mirror and sees the remnant of her past relationship which always reminds her of the words and actions of her ex. For her ex she wasn't a princess, cupcake or shortcakes. There were no cute and lovely pet names. She always was the worthless and stupid girl. His words hurt as much as his fists. So the whole situation is really new for her, she tries to shut out her bad memories, to not think about the possibility that Jake and Bradley soon will also see that she's not worth all of that.

---

The week was crazy to say the least. Y/n had to install a new security system after one of the new recruits lost his transponder. The Admiral was furious and the whole base was under lockdown. The young woman worked overtime every day and today was no exception. When she finally comes home she was beyond exhausted, a dull ache building behind her eyes.

She takes off her shoes and her coat and follows the music which greeted her the moment she opened the front door of the shared house. She craved a slow weekend since the week started but when she finally gets to the source of the commotion she stands in the doorframe of the fitness room the two aviators equipped, so that they not have to hit the gym but are able to exercise at home whenever they want, she was wide awake.

Y/n's eyes go wide. Of course she often has seen her roommates work out at home but since last week the whole situation changed. They're now dating and she still can't believe why these overly attractive Naval aviators choose her to be their girlfriend.

Their sweaty topless chests are glistening in the evening light which filters through the windows. Muscles bulging from the high weight they're lifting. Small moans of exertion can be heard over the music. She can't take her eyes away from that sight. She's watching Bradley lifting a ridiculous amount of weights, his back muscles more prominent than ever, a drop a sweat making its way down from his neck getting caught in the waistband of his shorts.

"You like what you see, cupcake?" She suddenly hears Jake's voice. She got caught. Her checks are already a bright shade of red when she turns to her side where the cocky pilot is smirking down at her. Her gaze lands on his glistening chest further down to his grey pants, which let little to imagination what he hides in his boxer briefs.

"Eh - I - I didn't want to - I " She can't form a coherent reply whether it's because out of embarrassment or something else, she doesn't know.

Jake softly cups her cheek and gives a kiss to her warm cheek.

"Hey princess. You sneaking up on us?" Bradley winks at her as he strolls in the direction of his two partners.

"Yes, I mean no. Ehm, I was just a bit surprised?" She's making a complete fool out of herself and she knows it. But damn, she's just a girl and seeing these two hunks makes her brain melt into a puddle.

"Surprised how damn sexy we look while sweating and moaning lifting weights?" Jake laughs.

"No need to get shy. We're just two sweaty morons. The real star of the house is you, my beautiful cupcake."

Okay she needs a shower and that fast. They wanted to take it slow, but how is she supposed to go slow when the two men are half naked moaning and sweating during their workout.

---

The shower somewhat helped her to calm her racing heart. She knows that seeing her boyfriends half naked, heck even naked, should be more than normal for her. But the small voice in her head is back. They will turn you down sooner or later. You're not enough. Look at yourself all broken and bruised.

She stands in front her full length mirror in her bedroom in just a sports bra and leggings, her fingertips touching the scar on her back. She knows that Cora was right. It is ugly. It's nothing but ugly and even if she's a beautiful woman that will always be the reminder how she failed her last relationship. What did she wrong that her ex treated her that bad? Wasn't she good enough? Why did he hurt her constantly emotionally and physically? Why did it end in her nearly dying? Her breathing starts to quicken as a tear is making its way down her cheek, followed by more until a constant stream of tears are wetting her flawless face. But in her eyes she's so far away from being flawless. She's damaged goods. Her ex hurt her soul and the big scar on her back is just a daily reminder how damaged she is. Her legs start to shake until her knees go weak and she collapses onto the cold hardwood floor of her bedroom. A desperate sob escapes her lips as she buries her tear soaked into her small hands.

---

Their sport session was long over and both Jake and Bradley already had their refreshing shower. It is Jake's turn to cock for them today but Bradley volunteered to help him, so that y/n doesn't have to wait any longer for the warm meal, probably her first real food today. Both know how crazy this week was for her and they even tried to coax her into leaving the base early today. After all she worked the whole week over hours, but she wanted to get that new security system ready and safe today, so that the base is finally secured again.

The house was quiet except for the light chatter of Jake and Bradley and the occasional clatter of pans and pots. A loud thud lets both men stop in their tracks. They look at each other quizzically.

"What was that?"

"Came out of Y/n's room. Princess you good?" Bradley shouts in the direction of the closed bedroom door. The two men grow concerned when there is no answer from their girlfriend.

Jake hurries to the closed door the brunette aviator hot on his heels.

"Y/n? What's wrong? Are you hurt?"

They instantly find her in the dark room and their concern only grows when she doesn't answer. She's shaking so violently that the first thought of Bradley is that she has once again a bad fever.

"Sweetheart, look at us. What's wrong?" She slowly takes away her hands from her face when Jake once again addresses her. Her attempt to brush away the remains of her tears is useless when both men kneel in front of her, looking at her intently reading her like a book. She knows she can't keep anything from the both protective pilots and she's afraid to anger them by lying to them, so she takes her courage in both hands and talks to them.

"I feel like I'm not good enough for both of you. He - he damaged me. Emotionally and physically…" with her last words her right hand finds its way to her back, touching the scar one more time.

"Princess…" Bradley gasps at a loss for words. How can she be not enough for them? She's the most beautiful, kind and lovely woman he has ever met. She is so much more and far away from damaged. Heck, both men nearly need to be physically restrained when cuddling with her. She's cute and sexy, she's just perfect.

"When I saw you two earlier working out… You two are perfect. Not only your bodies but when I saw you all sweaty and… sorry I'm once again embarrass myself." She tries to explain her problem, she really tries but soon into her words she gets shy and looks at her lap.

"Cupcake, come on look at us. Don't you ever be insecure around us. You're the most beautiful woman both of us ever had. You can't imagine what you do to us." He affectionately kisses her head. "We want you to be our girlfriend, in every way…" and with his cocky Hangman attitude he winks at her.

Y/n lets herself sink into Roosters arms who is sitting behind her. The tall brunette stroking her back gently until his hand is hovering above her scar. He bends down and starts to cover it with soft kisses. His soft lips are leaving a trail on her scar. Her heart explodes with how loved she feels right now.

Jake gets closer to her ear. His warm breath against the shell of her ear makes her shudder even more.

"You see what you do to us? You sitting here in you sports bra and your leggings… you don't need to wear fancy lingerie to play with our heads." He takes one of her small hands in his and brings it to his broad chest, stopping right above her his heart. Y/n feels the rapid thumping in her hand.

"You feel my heart? You make it race like that y/n." Jake goes further in testing the waters. He guides her hand further down his chest, let her feel his muscles flexing. She lets out a small nearly inaudible moan. The sensation of Bradley showering her with kisses and her hand on Jake's warm chest getting nearly too much for her. There's a new feeling pooling deep in her. A feeling she missed for so long. She never felt it so intensive ever before. When the blonde aviator finally stops both their hands in his lap, he lets out a moan. She drops her gaze where her and Jake's hand is resting. When she sees the bulge in his pants she frees her hand and softly strokes over the now very prominent bulge. Jake closes his eyes as he feels the gentle touch of the beautiful woman in front of him. How he craves that touch for weeks.

Bradley cradles her smaller body into his chest, him stopping the soft kisses makes her whimper. The loss of his soft lips too prominent. "Let's get you up, princess. It's getting cold on the floor." He whispers into her ear and without further warning Jake scoops her up into her arms and lays her gently on her bed.

"One word and we will stop, y/n. There's no pressure." Bradley says while looking her deeply into her eyes.

@djs8891

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#hangman x reader #rooster x reader #tgm #new writer #jake seresin x reader #top gun fanfic #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw #jake hangman seresin #top gun

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angel-of-the-moons · 2 days

Text

A Most Familiar Color

Charon x Fem!Lone Wanderer

TW/CW: NSFW, Periods/Menstrual Cycle, Period talk, blood, period sex, cramps, blood, violence, mentions of slavery and brainwashing

MINORS DNI I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR CONTENT YOU CONSUME

A/N: This is entirely self-indulgent. I am suffering from unusually horrible cramps and boom! This came to me. You guys can't tell me Charon will shy away from this sort of thing. Enjoy this... Word vomit lmao.

(caps divider by @/saradika-graphics. Check out their work, I recommend it!)

You really missed your dad right about now.

With each stabbing pain, you remembered your time in Vault 101. You remember when Amata sat you down as preteens and helped you through your panic when you first found traces of blood in your underwear.

Amata herself had hit puberty a little young, and seeing as how you were best friends (and neither of you had your mothers) you confided in one another with everything either of you could fathom; best friends til the end. So, when the pains started and you bled more, Amata told you that you should probably go get your dad, seeing as how he was the resident doctor, and all.

The very thought had mortified you, embarrassed beyond all get-out at the thought of talking to your dad about something like this.

Amata had shrugged, "I had to talk to him about mine. He even gave me tips on how to lessen the cramping. Trust me, your dad is not going to think you're weird or gross."

You rolled in your sleeping bag, the faint memory of more pleasant times overshadowed by the pain you were feeling stabbing low in your abdomen.

You focused on the rest of your memory. As it played out behind closed eyelids.

"This is perfectly natural, sweetie." James had told you as you laid in the sterile-smelling clinic. His eyes, the same color as yours, smiled gently and with infinite patience as he explained what was exactly happening to you.

"It means you're going to be a woman now. And, when you're ready, you could have a baby, if you wanted to."

Your nose had crinkled, the worst of your cramps having died down thanks to the pain pills he'd given you. "I don't want to have a baby."

"I should hope not!" James had laughed. "Not yet, anyway. I'm not old enough to be a granddad yet."

You rolled your eyes and turned onto your side, pulling the blanket up to your chin as you peered at him while he continued to explain what would happen, what to expect, and how to take care of it.

He'd given you these weird things... pads, "sanitary napkins"... and these other cotton contraptions you didn't very much like--tampons. They looked uncomfortable, and when he explained how to use them, you did not like it. Apparently the Vault, when built, took into consideration the female residents and had mandatory cotton growing and harvesting alongside their usual crops for this very reason.

Since this was all new to you, your father suggested the pads and napkins first, and did a short demonstration on a piece of spare cloth how to apply it and wear it comfortably.

All this however, was drowned out when a horrible cramp bled past the barrier the painkillers had built up for you. James had frowned mid-way through his explanation and demonstration, his heart squeezing at seeing you--his only and beloved child--in so much pain. He reached out and gently squeezed your shoulder, "I'll get you some muscle-relaxers, sweetie. I'll have Jonah tell Mr Birch that your schoolwork will have to be done back in our suite until your cycle ends."

"Can you not say that part?" You moan, feeling shame bubble up in your chest. You weren't sure why, but you felt horrified that so many people might be aware of what was going on with you. "Just say I'm sick."

"Okay, if it makes you more comfortable." James said softly. "But I want you to know, that I've seen several of your other classmates about this very situation, honey. It's not gross, it's not strange; and it most certainly is nothing to feel ashamed of."

Your silence stretched in the room, the sound of the air system and rattling of air vents the only thing that filled the void of speech.

"You know... your mother had rather painful periods, herself." James finally spoke up.

Your eyes widened and you lifted your gaze, intrigued. Oftentimes, the only thing that he would mention about your mother was her favorite Bible verse, and her love for you, spoken in her last few moments of life.

"Yes, yes, she did." He continued, seeing your awe and curiosity. "Sometimes they would get so bad, the pains, that she would snap at anyone. She was also prone to mood swings." James chuckled fondly at a distant memory, one he did not voice aloud.

"So, I just want you to know, that I definitely understand how much this can hurt you, sweetheart. Especially when I would have to help massage her belly to ease the cramping."

"...I wish Mom was here." You mutter softly, barely audible. But James picked up on it, smiling bitterly and fixing you with a gaze of love.

"I do, too, sweetheart... God, I do, too."

Yeah, you definitely missed your dad right about now... You missed his gentle words, you missed when his hands would help ease the hot water bottle into your grasp; you missed his ever-patient and comforting presence.

"You're tossing and turning a lot." A gruff and grating voice rumbled from nearby, stoking the fire he had lit hours ago in the tiny, decrepit house the two of you had taken shelter in.

Charon. The ghoul who said few words, the man who had been a slave to the cruel man in Underworld: Ahzrukhal. Charon had been brainwashed ages ago, forced into servitude and to obey the orders of whomever held his contract.

Which, after a difficult bartering session... was now you. Mere moments after buying said contract, Charon had gunned down his malicious former-"employer" with two taps of his hefty shotgun. The second shot completely unnecessary, as the first pull of the trigger completely obliterated the man's head; brain matter and blood and bits of skull painting the dingy walls a deep red.

During your travels, you had even gone so far as to hand Charon his contract to him, telling him he was free, now. He could go where he wanted, when he wanted. You'd even tried to give him a few caps and tried ordering him to buy his own contract from you. But, he explained that, infuriatingly, it "didn't work like that".

And in the stressful months you'd traveled together, things changed. The dynamic between you two. Eventually... that changed, too. Became something personal--intimate.

Before, you would merely knock back some painkillers here and there to offset the pain, exercise to mask the cramps, and hastily wash any blood from your clothes to conceal what exactly was happening to you every four weeks; that shame your father insisted wasn't necessary, ever present in the back of your mind.

"Sorry." You mumble.

"It does not bother me." Charon mumbled, his hazy eyes slowly gliding from the glow of the fire and towards you as you rolled to your other side so your back was too him. You just couldn't take his intense gaze. Not right now.

"Were you hurt in the fight earlier?"

And yeah, the two of you got into a rather violent melee when you were ambushed by a few raiders hyped up on psycho. You'd taken a bat to your gut, which, you swore, is what made your cramps worse, today; aside from the bruise that was likely there, now.

The wind rattled the boarded up windows, whistling angrily through cracks unseen as the first heavy winter storm swept over the Capital Wasteland.

"Yeah. I'm just--just sore." You mumble, tucking deeper into your bedroll.

That's when Charon said the words you had really hoped he would utter: "Let me see. We still have the ointment from the coots back in Oasis. It'll help with the bruise."

"No--Charon, I'm fine." You blabber out nervously, fingers gripping the thin fabric wrapping around you as you wished you could sink deeper into the ruined cushions of the rather questionable old couch you laid on.

You should have known better. Aside from your budding and confusing relationship, Charon still had his driven mentality to ensure the safety of his employer. You. Even if you didn't like it at the moment.

"No. Let me see." Charon insisted.

The shuffled of dirt and trash on the old wooden floors, coupled with the soft squeak of his old leather jacket and patchwork armor soon followed.

"Charon, I'm--" Your voice is cut short when his large hands are placed on your diminutive body. Or, well. You were average. Charon was... large. He was nearly as tall as someone in a suit of power armor.

You couldn't fight him as he gently manhandled you, unzipping your warm trappings to free you from your cocoon of privacy. His hands stayed at your sides, resting softly on your hips as he looked at you expectantly, his poker face, as usual, was absolutely impossible to decipher.

But you knew. He was waiting for your consent, or for you to start.

You sighed and began unzipping your vault suit. A bit flashy in the wasteland, for sure... but in the winter it served very well to keep you warm. You felt a flush rise in your cheeks as the chilly air in the house covered your bare skin as you shimmied the top half of your suit off, revealing the threadbare tank top you wore beneath.

Charon gently guided you back down, so you were laying flat on your back as his calloused and scarred fingers gently hiked your shirt up to your ribs, to peer at the injury he suspected you had.

You had turned your head, chewing the inside of your cheek as his absurdly hot hands smoothed over your belly. Yeah, you definitely had a bruise.

"It doesn't look that bad. The ointment from Oasis might help with the soreness." He grunted, turning to rifle through his duffel bag. After a few moments, he pulled back a brown jar from the depths of his things. He unscrewed the tin lid and the acrid smell greets your nose; the pungent ointment smelled awful. But you couldn't deny that it worked great in terms of pain relief.

He scooped out a glob of the murky-white slop and gently began to smooth it down, rubbing and pressing in soothing circles to cover the blossoming purple that covered your midsection.

And, honestly... it helped. Not the bruise, but your cramps. The weight and pressure from his heavy hand massaging your abdomen eased the throb your reproductive organs wrought within you. You sighed in relief at the touch, welcoming his easing of the tightness in your belly.

But, almost as soon as the relief began to seep into your weary body, Charon slipped his hand away. Your smaller hand gripped his thick wrist, "Wait."

He tilted his head, a ruined brow quirking up ever so slightly as scraps of rusty red hair flopped over his scarred and pitted scalp.

"I... can you... keep doing that? It helps. A lot." You say vaguely, looking away from him and biting your lip.

Charon eyes you for a few more seconds, before his hand began to press and soothe once more. As you relaxed into the cushions, Charon's cloudy gaze studied you intently, the gears within his mind grinding and turning.

"You're bleeding, aren't you?" He finally said, bringing your bliss to a screeching halt.

You move to sit up, cringing, "No, no that's not it. I'm just sore, and..."

His hand slid a bit lower, pressing down over the spot that hurt the most, right between your bones poking delicately through your skin. He grunted softly, "You should have said something. Especially if it's hurting you this badly."

"I--It's nothing, Charon." You say, trying to shove his hand away; but his strength did not waver. He continued to press his fingertips down into your smooth skin, rubbing short, tight circles as if he could feel every contraction and throb through your skin.

You groan deeply in relief, unable to contain it as the pain begins to slowly bleed away. "We're out of painkillers."

Charon grumbled in acknowledgment, nodding as his eyes focus on the task his hand was undertaking, the give and slight stretch of your skin as he pulled and pushed; fighting the waves of pain that swept up your body, engaging in a sort of combat with your cramps.

"We will stay here for a few days." Charon continues as his hand smooths flat briefly, before massaging the last echoes of your aches away. "The storm will likely hang over us, and it isn't smart to go out in a blizzard, if this turns into one. We have plenty of provisions to last us until the storm passes."

You nod, your eyes slipping closed as, even though the cramps had lessened to almost nothing, Charon continued to massage your abdomen with his massive hand; the pain blooming into something... else. A fire, not unlike the one that burned in the rusted fireplace, glowed hot and low inside of you, making your body go slick with something other than the blood you knew soaked into the cotton strip in your underwear.

The heat thrummed in your chest and you swallowed, your hand squeezing his wrist once. "I... Y-You can stop, now."

Charon immediately halted, something his palm once again as he looked at you.

This sudden shyness was completely unlike you. You were loud, boisterous, giddy and able to talk down even the most hard-headed individuals; not this... shy little radrabbit.

You groaned again in frustration, gripping his wrist tight as you rode out a fresh cramp.

"There is something," Charon said slowly. "That might help."

"What is it?" You sigh, looking at him with pinched brows.

The moment your eyes fell on him, you swallowed a new lump in your throat as Charon leaned in over you, dwarfing and caging you beneath his massive body on the couch.

"There are ways to help the pains. Basic ones." He said softly, resting his forehead against yours.

You shivered, the heat rolling off of his body triggering a nervous sweat on you. Or maybe it was your body as your temp Rose ad fell--just as your father warned you would happen from time to time. Either way, the smell of him, the lingering ghosts of his touching, and now his innate closeness to you had that heat pool once more lowly in your belly.

"I... Charon, I don't think--" You began to awkwardly bumble out.

It wasn't that you were afraid of the prospect, not at all. You had had sex with each other once or twice already. But sharing your body in such an intimate matter, especially with the... mess going on with your lower half right now... let alone with someone who was, up until recently, your "employee" as he put it, had your stomach flipping with angry butterflies.

His hand that was used to massage your belly braced him up so he could stare down at you. That ever-steely gaze fixed against yours, your lip quivering a little in some sort of shame you cursed yourself for feeling.

"I can help you. It's my job." He says, his voice softer than usual; the deep grating almost missing from him altogether. This was... gentler, as if he was talking to a scared animal.

"Charon, you don't have to... this is..." You struggle out, a deep sigh heaving from you as you tried to come up with an excuse, your fingers toying blindly with his leather belts looped around his torso in an effort to calm down. "It's... gross. Messy."

Shockingly, the ever-rare smile slowly curves his lips, twisting his marred features in a humorous glow as he looked down at you further, a dry chuckle tumbling from him as though you just said the funniest joke on the planet to him.

"Doll..." He whispered to you, leaning in to press his lips on your jaw, just beneath your ear. God, that pet name sent shivers down your spine...

"I have been marred with death and grime for dozens of years. A long fucking time. I'm not afraid of a little blood."

"I..." You hitch, feeling his free hand slide down your front, his thumb sweeping over your pebbled nipple, feeling it through the thin fabric of your tank top. The ache you felt there, too, eased somewhat as he gently rolled and groped at the fat, wrenching something between a grunt and a moan from you.

"Let me help you. And it will help." He growled deeply, sucking a bruise into your throat in such a way that had your back arching and your walls fluttering at his promise.

"...Okay." You finally consent.

The moment you gave your permission, Charon reached down to grab at the edges of your suit, tugging it down your thighs enough to give him space to work while his hand worked its way past the worn elastic of your underwear.

The moment his fingers touched your aching clit, you made a shuddered sound, your hands gripping his leather jacket tight, gritting your teeth as his mouth worked at your throat; the callouses and pitted texture of his hand providing the perfect friction to your throbbing little nub.

Charon groaned against your soft skin, his crooked teeth scraping at your pulse as he spread your lips, his fingers moving to trace your leaking hole.

"You're forgetting that I've had many employers. Women included. I've done this before for them; an orgasm will help." He murmurs, sliding a thick finger inside of you, his thumb circling your clit mercilessly as you walls squeezed down around him.

His tongue traced a bead of sweat that rolled over the knot in your throat, "...you're the only one I'll enjoy doing it for."

The throb in your cunt matched the one in your chest; feeling humbled and happy that he trusted you so entirely--accepted you so fully that anything he did, that could bring you joy or relief, was his own; as though you two were the same person in separate and anything that helped soothe you did the same for him.

"Charon." You moaned weakly, your hips rolling in time with his fingers as he pushed another one inside of you, pressing and curling in the delicious pattern he already knew made you weak in the knees. He was a fast learner, figuring out all your bells and whistles after that first fleeting and awkward sexual encounter the two of you had back in your house in Megaton.

You panted and wheezed, his hand moving wonderfully slow in the best way, massaging your contracting walls as you pressed your legs wider for him; brushing against the rather intimidating bulge in his jeans that he neglected in favor of you.

Almost as soon as his fingers pressed on that spongy spot inside of you that had you seeing stars... A throb of pain overwrote it and you whimpered, your thighs squeezing tight around his wrist as your belly flexed once more.

Charon pulled his mouth free of your neck, looking down at you, his brows furrowed hard as he studied your pained expression. "Another one? How bad?"

"Hurts..." Was all you could sniffle out. "I'm sorry."

"Don't." He growled, leaning down to kiss you deeply, his tongue gently brushing your lips before pulling away again, pushing up on the couch until he stood on his knees and looked down at you.

"Don't ever. Say sorry. To me."

You looked up at him, feeling guilty as you dared spare a glance down at his hand as it withdrew from your heat, smeared with your blood. Your cheeks burned and you tried to hide your face behind your arm.

Charon wiped his hand on his pants and sighed down at you. It didn't surprise him, not really, that you felt shame regarding your monthly cycle. A lot of women had grown up being shamed; especially if any blood was visible on their clothes. Shit, even before the War, women and young girls faced a stigma if they spoke openly about their menstrual cycles.

He despised the fact that somehow, that shit survived into the apocalypse. He hated the fact you apologized for feeling that pain your body was inflicting upon you naturally; that you felt bad for being "messy".

But what irked him most in the moment, was the fact that his touches weren't enough for you right now. Charon grunted, pressing the heel of his palm into the bulge in his pants, hissing out a sigh between his teeth.

He leaned down, gently pushing your hand to the side so he could look into your watery eyes. Mood swings were common, too. That he knew obviously. His chapped and rough lips grazed yours softly in a gentle and well-rehearsed dance.

"Relax for me. Getting upset won't help you right now, doll." He whispered sweetly to you, his eyes softening as your gazes locked.

"I--I don't know why, I..."

"Hush." He says, hastily undoing his armor and jacket, lazily draping them over the back of the couch; reaching behind him to pull off his thin gray shirt over his head, revealing the twisted, marred, and damaged tissue of his body to you.

Many people were disgusted by ghouls, finding their skin (or lack thereof, in some cases) gross and unappealing. While yes, there were the scant few who found them attractive; both sexually and in general... The vast majority were uncomfortable with the prospect of having sex with one.

Your eyelashes flutter as you blink, swallowing hard; your tongue felt like all moisture in your mouth was absorbed, the muscle swollen so much that you couldn't find anymore saliva to moisten it. He had an amazingly built body. Not an inch of fat on him (but then again, very few even had fat anymore, given how scarce food could be from time to time) Charon was a solid wall of muscle and scars from past battles; both physically and mentally.

And he knew you loved every bit of him. Maybe you were naive, maybe you had just been lonely at first... but he was well aware of how intensely your attraction and affection burned for him.

His fingers slipped his belt loose, the buckle tinkling as the worn leather slipped free; before unbuttoning his jeans.

Charon looked into your eyes, his cock throbbing at the way you bit your lip, your soft eyes staring with heated want at the bulge that was so prominent in his confining clothes. But, as before, the look of doubt flickered in that little flame within you; shame.

He couldn't help but feel a small sense of smug pride, smirking down at you. "I know you might not want to do this... But--" Charon sighed as he freed his cock, holding the fat length of it in a tight grip.

As scarred as the rest of him, the sheer size and texture promised a head-spinningly good time.

"Let me help you." His other hand pinched your chin between thick fingers, making you look up at him and match his eyes. "Please."

Your heart squeezed in your chest. He was asking you, making sure above all else that this was what you wanted.

And... you did. Nodding as another new cramp slipped through your abdomen, you cringed a little. "Please..." You repeat back to him.

Charon nodded, pulling the rest of your suit off and tossing it to the floor, his thumbs hooking your bloody underwear down your legs, the coppery scent hitting his lack-of nose as he carefully set them aside. He kicked off his boots and pants before caging you against the couch once again, looking briefly at the slick of crimson that shone on your smooth thighs, the short hairs on your sex sticky with it.

He gave you another kiss, this one more heated than the last, your tongues twining and dancing as he aggressively fought to seek dominance over yours. He won, of course, you were helpless against him.

"Take deep breaths." He muttered against your lips, reaching down between you to notch his gnarled tip at your entrance.

You let out a shaky puff of air, before sucking in a tight lungfull as he pushed in, the stretch of his cock absolutely filling and oh, so pleasant. Your heels dig in to the muscles of his glutes, your nails biting into his pitted skin as he slid inch by torturous inch into your tight, clenching walls.

Charon tossed his head back with a groan, "Fuck. You need to relax as much as you can, doll... You're fucking tight."

You nod frantically, whimpering as you try to force your muscles to ease up their vice-grip on his shaft, mouth hanging open in hungry pants of air as he slowly withdraws, his cock painted a macabre red before thrusting back in.

It hurt, not just from the cramps you were feeling, but from the fact that Charon was going so slow, so gentle with you. You understood his concerns, yes, but... fuck. Your body screamed, your ovaries practically beat against your womb to just have him fuck you relentless, to pump you full of seed that would never take root.

You wheezed as his hips arch and press down against yours, rubbing your walls in a painfully erotic way, "Harder."

He stilled, then, bracing himself on his elbows to look at you, his scruffy scraps of hair hanging down like tattered curtains as your eyes locked once again. "You're sure?"

"Yes." You sob softly. "Fuck--yes. I--I need you to... to just..."

He growled, his mouth twisting into a snarl as he pushed up on the couch, leaning back as his hands reached around you, hoisting you up by your ass so his cock could angle blissfully within your cunt, wordlessly following your plea before settling into a bruising pace, rutting into you like a man possessed.

Your soft breasts bounced as he grunted, his cock stretching and fucking you so utterly it almost knocked all rational thoughts free from your brain; almost knocking your brain loose as you sob, tears prickling your vision as your eyes crossed, a wanton moan wrenched free from within you in concert with the howling winds that swept the wasteland outside.

The fire crackled and popped, dying down to lame embers, darkening the room as Charon pounded your sore and twitching cunt, the lewd sound of skin slapping on skin a constant sound going off like a gunshot in your ears.

Hell, each punch of his hips felt like a gunshot to your cervix; the pain mixing in a wondrous cocktail of euphoria as you felt your orgasm flutter from deep within you.

Your walls crushed down on his cock, your blood and slick letting him slide in and out of you with no effort as you whimpered and cried with every arch and fuck of his hips.

"Ch-Charon," You hiccup, your blood rushing so loudly in your ears it nearly drowned out the lewd sounds your bodies made as Charon gripped your hips in such a way that you were sure to have bruises in your ass cheeks tomorrow. "Charon, 'm gonna--"

"Do it." He groaned, his head hanging back and his mouth open in wet, hot pants; eyes screwed shut. "Cum for me, doll."

You arch your back, your nails digging into the frail fabric of the couch cushions, tearing the seams almost audibly as your climax rippled through your, your womb clenching finally in a way that blacked out your mind with not pain, but pleasure.

Blinding, searing, burning pleasure as your body turned to jelly in Charon's hands, letting him manhandle you through your final ebbs of nirvana as your pussy clenched around him.

He slowed his thrusts languidly, slowly easing you down onto the couch once again. Your blood would surely stain your bedding... But right now you couldn't care less; finally, blissful oblivion was granted to your cramps. Pain completely dissolved, you sighed in content as you heavy lids drew open to look up at him.

Charon let out a heavy sigh, his hand gripping your thigh softly, squeezing the fat there affectionately. "Feel better?"

"Yeah..." You sigh again, happily, your hands sliding up his shoulders to rest on the back of his neck.

But... some part of you roared to life, awareness spreading through your sex almost instincively.

"I... You didn't--"

Charon smirks at you, once again, the promise on his lips making your pussy flutter around him.

"This can last up to a week." He jerked his head towards the door he barricaded shut against the storm raging outside.

He snapped his hips into yours, grinding his cock head against your deepest reaches.

"So can this. I have plenty of time to get off. Right now... we're focusing on you."

You whimper as his teeth nip at your ear; "...And I think I feel you cramping again."

#Fallout #Fallout x Reader #Fallout x you #charon x lone wanderer #Charon x you #Charon x Reader #Fallout smut #Fallout 3

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