#but I have to wake up and endure this hell of a reality

[alexiroflife]

"my duty to you"

fluff, pining, suggestive themes, kingdom au, (i was inspired by the dynamic in the movie "Epic" w/ queen tara & ronin or this one if yall know what i'm referencing)

bodyguard!toji fushiguro x royalty!reader

Synopsis: toji, a man raised in poverty who has been forced to turn to violence for the sake of survival, finds himself at the princess' side as her personal bodyguard

to sum it up: toji has never been fond of royalty, yet he submits to his responsibility to protect you with passion he has not shown to anything else

WC: 14,242

Warning(s): mentions of trauma, violence, assault, vaguely suggestive themes

Toji knows he was never cut out for an uppity lifestyle.

He’s a gruff man, rough around the edges with an air of dark mystery radiating about him. He has never believed himself to be an attractive man, at least in the realm of those who make women drop to their knees and swoon with romance. He’s more fermented, well-aged, well experienced, and he has the looks of someone who has endured hell and more, not those of a freshly groomed prince blooming in his wake.

Toji, though a man of difficult upbringing, having undergone more of reality’s harsh lessons than almost anyone in this world, has a specific set of skills that comes in handy no matter the setting. He is not a man of incredible wealth, prowess, or poise, but he can associate himself with the likes of those who are by means of what he does, and what he does remarkably well. His talents are the only reason, he believes, why he has been in your service, smack in the middle of your world for teetering into two years now.

Raised in the slums, orphaned by his absent parents, Toji taught himself a way to live. He thinks that he was born hard, when he looks back, for no one else could have survived the way he had after those years of scrounging around for food, desperately searching for change and a decently comfortable pile of grass he could sleep in. As the world grew harsher, pushing against his growing mind and body, Toji pushed back harder, angrier, more solid and more grounded. He was blessed from the moment he entered this earth with unique physical qualities that gave him an advantage when fighting to live, his internal and external mold serving as an inhuman benefit, as though he was meant to struggle the way he had all of his life. As though fighting was his destiny. 

The dark haired man had encountered many different means of keeping himself afloat over the years too, some more grim than others that he refused to look back on. Nevertheless, after the will of the merciless wind had tossed him around feverishly for far longer than he realized would have been normal for anybody else, he understood that his place in this world was to stand proudly as a man capable of unspeakable violence, inept at the art of killing for the sake of his own gain. 

It’s a dog eat dog world. Toji learned this before he even hit puberty, and therefore, he learned what it meant to transition himself into one - a far more gnarly beast than any of the world’s nastiest entities of evil could conjure. If he only had the choice of eating or being eaten, Toji was going to devour before another dog could get the chance to bare his teeth at him. 

Well into his familiarity with his own brutality, his craft honed in and sharpened to perfection and his years of youth having flown by with the snap of his fingers, Toji is recognized by a crowd that he’s despised for as long as he can remember. 

He is in the middle of a boxing match, one of many he participates in for the hell of it and the cash rather than as a profession, when a representative from the palace ogles him from the crowd, standing out as a sore thumb amidst the screaming patrons clinging to the velvet ropes of the ring, drunk off stinking liquors and spit flying excitedly from their mouths in awe as Toji, undefeated, lands a particularly gruesome blow to the face of his opponent. His foe collapses, blood smearing from his crooked nose, and the jade eyed man filled with years of pent up rage and stress, straddles the nearly unconscious man’s torso and plows his fist into his face repeatedly with wild, shrunken eyes and tight lips. 

Toji only takes notice of his visitor in the midst of his abuse, eyes flickering up quickly to mull over the crowd when he finds a terrified face masked in a black cloak, attempting to shrink into the rest of the room. But Toji sees him clearly, a palace ambassador with no place in an underground ring so far from home.

The dark haired man refuses to even look at him as the owner tells him that he has a guest. He unravels the wrap from his stained fists, back tensing. Toji tells him to fuck off, not even having to whip his head around to see who it is. He can tell by his boss’ tone and the silence of the said visitor that he is exactly who he believes him to be. That, and Toji never receives visitors, for the people who are well aware of his reputation stray far away, fearing the worst from his seemingly deadly lust for blood. 

His owner, however, does not turn the man away. Toji understands that he must have been paid a good deal in jewels by this cloaked man to allow him to stay back here, not leaving until he asks for some kind of favor. An agitated exhalation rises in Toji’s chest, heavy eyes tossing over his shoulder to glare at the ambassador. He gulps, trembling hands reaching up to lower his hood.

“The fuck do y’want?” Toji spits.

The ambassador’s hesitant gaze scatters over his bare back, his fists, the scars littering his skin and lip, and the murderous glow in his venomous eyes. He looks terrified for his life, face dotted in beads of sweat and eyes still full of innocent light quivering. “I-I’m here on- on behalf of the King and Queen.”

Toji stills, brows drawing together. The man’s words seem to have an impact on his boss, normally an uncaring man, for he leaves with a swiftness once royalty is mentioned, sworn to silence by hush money. 

Toji scoffs, shaking his head and turning back around to refocus on his task. “You got the wrong guy,” he dismisses. “Now beat it before I kill ya.”

But he doesn’t, standing his ground rather poorly, clearly shaken by the fact that his life has been threatened for what Toji can only assume to be the very first time. He rolls his eyes at the sentiment, at how weak, fragile, and perfectly stupid palace folk are. “S-Sir, please-”

“Sir?” Toji raises a brow, crouching to sit down heavily on his bench, tossing his bloodied bandages onto the ground before him. His abdominals, bulky and intensely defined, ripple with his movements as he slides his towel from his shoulders, swiping it over his skin roughly. “I ain’t no sir, pal.”

The ambassador stiffens, lips pursing together. “Um- Mr. Toji…?”

Toji twists up his mouth at him unimpressed. “Fushiguro.”

“Yes! Y-Yes, Mr. Fushiguro.”

“Christ, it’s just Fushiguro.”

“Oh,” he nods erratically. “Yes, then. Fushiguro,” he clears his throat. “I’m afraid it’s a matter of great importance.”

“Clearly it is to you lot, or else your dumbass wouldn’t be here,” Toji grumbles, settling a hand on his thigh. “I don’t have time for bullshit. You either get to the point, or the King and Queen are gonna be down one messenger.”

Toji is a violent man. He has had to be violent in order to live, in order to eat, in order to sleep, and now in his late thirties, it has become embedded in who he is. Violence is his first response to every circumstance, to every person who approaches him, to every dirty look that he is thrown, to every unknown within this world that has been nothing but greedy, cruel, and selfish to him. 

Even so, he is not always keen on his word when he threatens such things. He knows that if he were to lay a hand on this toothpick, he would be hanged and quartered within the hour, and Toji isn’t too keen on allowing the kingdom dickheads be the reason his life comes to an end after he fought so desperately to even reach past his twenties. This ambassador knows this, and yet, he is still shaking like a leaf as though Toji has any authority over him, because in truth, he does here in his territory, only temporarily. Toji can use the fear he inspires and the intimidation of his capabilities and large frame to attempt to shake a palace ambassador off of his ass, but there is nothing more to his stern words other than a desire to be left alone.

“You must listen,” the little man continues to press. “The King and Queen- t-they send me for the sake of their daughter!”

Toji groans. “I don’t give a shit who they sent you for, you’re barkin’ up the wrong tree.”

“I fear they are fully aware of who they sent me to speak with,” the ambassador’s brows angle with a sense of urgency. Toji, having been bored by the conversation, rubs his fingers over the bridge of his nose and tilts his head tiredly. “N-Not many of us know about the things you do, but I was told to seek out the strongest, and you are… him.”

“What the hell do they want me for? I ain’t got shit for you pricks. Just leave me be.”

“Fushiguro,” he calls again before Toji can stand and turn away. “I understand you may not care about what the kingdom needs, but you are being offered a great deal of money. A generous salary.”

Toji’s ears perk up at this. He rises slowly, sauntering over to the man with slim, suspicious eyes and a taut jaw. Sweat glistens his bare torso, rolled up sweats hanging low on his waist. As he grows closer, the ambassador takes notice of his great size up close, and his eyes widen as he cowers away slightly from the man that casts a shadow over him completely. 

Toji stares down over his nose and tilted chin with a frown. “A salary? From the King and Queen themselves?” he repeats, and the man whimpers a hum in affirmation. “The hell is going on? What could possibly be turning their panties in a bunch to offer a job to someone like me?”

“It’s their daughter,” the man re-emphasizes. 

“Who?”

“The princess!” he says as though it is obvious, a desperate expression taking his features. “She needs security.”

“From what?”

“The King and Queen grow old, and so does the princess. Their reign is coming to an end, and with that, the princess’s life is often endangered by those seeking to take her right to the crown while her parent’s grow less capable of ruling. There’s already been two assassination attempts and one assault attempt within the past few months,” the ambassador explains, severely. “The princess needs someone to look after her, to be by her side as she prepares to rule as queen and as she looks for a husband.”

“And you want me to be her bodyguard?” Toji raises his brows.

“In a sense… yes.”

The dark haired man snorts in the ambassador’s face, the latter deflating at his reaction. “Of all people, you want me?”

“...Yes. That is correct.”

“What, the brat doesn’t have knights or something?”

“None that are capable of what you do.”

“And how the hell do you know what I do? You come to one match and think you're an expert on my life?” Toji grits his teeth, leering down at the poor man. The ambassador raises his hands in defense, stepping back anxiously. “I see everyone and everything that crosses my path. I’ve never seen you before in my life, and all of a sudden now you show up with a job offer from the fucking King and Queen. Gimme a break.”

He walks off, irritatedly throwing his towel in the corner and ripping open his locker on the other side of the room. “You’re right. I haven’t been watching you, but I’ve been asking around town about someone who could fit the role for weeks, and everyone was too afraid to mention you until a few days ago. Since then, I’ve heard stories.”

“People here like to gossip,” Toji murmurs.

“But your name scares people, right?”

“I don’t care what my name does.”

“Fushiguro, please,” he begs. “I don’t believe you are a man who cares about what happens in the palace-”

“I’m not.”

“But you must care about a sense of duty? Of justice? Of compensation, at least?”

“Obviously I care about money more than I do any of the other shit you just mentioned. But you tell me one thing,” his face hardens. “What the hell has the kingdom done for sorry asses like me, huh? Why should I be the one to help them when they haven’t helped me a day in my life? They’re all a bunch ‘a stuck up, frilly airheads stuck in their own bubble of what they think is urgent. So what if the princess gets a little spooked here and there? Maybe it’ll teach her a life lesson about what the world is really like. ‘Cause I’ll tell ya this, the girls where I come from don’t get to have a bodyguard before bad shit happens to them.”

Toji isn’t entirely sure why he is making a point to shame the people at the top when in the end, he knows he is going to take the job. Money, Toji finds, is incredibly valuable where he is from, and considering the hands he has dirtied in the past to get it, this proposal is practically nothing. Still, that doesn’t mean he likes the kingdom any more for their lack of involvement with the lower classes. His morals, which remain very few, go against this proposal he already knows he is going to accept - slaving away for those who made him a slave to gruesome fates, but hell, what can a man really do when he’s at his wits end and unfathomable riches are being presented to him on a silver platter?

He can complain, yes, but nothing can rank higher than the money the palace is practically drowning in. Besides, he doesn’t have to stay, he thinks. He can entertain this little charade for as long as he has enough funds to set him up for life, and then he’ll be out of there. In and out, quick and easy, and this place would never see his face again. 

A grim look befalls the ambassador’s face while Toji rummages through his belongings for his clothes. He is clearly discomforted by Toji’s words, which was the goal the man aimed to achieve in the first place. 

“We can not force you to do anything you do not desire to do yourself,” the ambassador starts, and somehow, Toji senses that the man is lying for the sake of making it appear as though Toji has a choice. “But I implore you to consider. The princess is unlike her parents. She is younger, eager. There is a legacy she must carry and people she must lead. Without her, the entire kingdom collapses. Including your village.”

Toji’s nose twitches. “Maybe that’ll do this shithole some good,” he grumbles.

The ambassador sighs, shoulders slumping. “Please… think about it.”

Toji rolls his eyes, turning and knuckling a hand to his hip. “How much money ‘we talking here, buddy?”

And oh, is the pay fucking obscene.

Toji doesn’t think he’s ever fathomed such grand numbers and jewels in his head, having been restricted by his village’s limitations, but once he hears his pay manifested into reality by a simple verbalization, his guilt trip seizes and he is signing his life away almost happily.

From then on, Toji is bound to the likes of you, his signature scribbled messily over a royal contract and securing him to you from now until your death… at least, that is what the fine print says. His plans, however, differ, and when he has fled from you, he will be hundreds of miles out of the kingdom’s reach.

That is his plan. To run away, but you unfortunately do not make this a very plausible task for him.

After days of training that Toji does not at all listen to, of watching elder royalty turn their nose up in disgust at the way he speaks and carries himself, of hearing murmurs of disapproval as he saunters down red carpeting with the head guard to meet yet another person that he will not remember the name or importance of, of being sworn to secrecy - to only serve as a protective, lethal air of silence and nothing more - to refuse any and all physical or verbal interaction with the woman in his protection, and of being fitted into a stuffy black uniform clad with gold detailing that serves only for show since he would have hardly bothered to lift an arm in that uncomfortable ass thing, let alone kill someone, Toji finally meets you.

And he has to admit that you are not at all what he expects.

Adorned in a regal soft pink gown that crowds from your waist and pools down to the floor, cuffing delicately at your wrists through sheer sleeves and tugging over your torso snugly with a corset, you stand before him in your chambers like an angel gracing earth. Your bejeweled gold crown sits upon your head with complementarity and your ringed fingers clasp each other before your lap. You're decked in what Toji can only assume to be century old gems, necklaces, and chains which he has to physically fight himself from reaching to pluck from your body and run off with. Standing before him, he decides that you are worth at least twenty times more than the almost forty years of life he has spent picking around for specs of funds. 

The thought agitates him. 

While he wishes he can say that he is the only one agitated, he notices a flick of fire in your (e/c) eyes as you size him up, trace your gaze over him with judgment and a pout on your glossed lips. Your presence is almost frightening with power as the two of you stare at each other, him with blank indifference and you with very apparent disappointment. 

When the head guard eventually takes his leave now that you are in the hands of your newly bestowed bodyguard, the door closing behind the two of you as you enter the hall in preparation to go handle your duties, you stop in your tracks, dress ruffling along with you. Toji, who has been told to remain ten feet behind you at all times, freezes like a statue, eying you when you whip your head around to glare at him.

Toji’s heard of elegant aestheticism, of the otherworldly beauty that the royal family carries, but he hadn’t believed it until he sees you face to face - though he’ll admit, he imagined you to appear less… aggravated and more peachy? Light. Dimwittedly sugary.

“Listen up,” you demand, a shocking bass carrying in your tone. You’re dominant, he noticed, or at least you are attempting to be. You stand proud, tall, chin lifted and eyes narrow. This certainly isn’t the picture of spoiled naivety that he imagined you to be previously. “I don’t know whatever the royal guard told you, but I’m not a damsel in need of protecting. I didn’t agree to whatever this is or whoever the hell you are invading my life.”

Toji’s brow lifts in intrigue. You certainly are not what he expected. Not at all.

Encouraged by your tone, his lips quirk up into a subtle smirk. You drag your brows together in confusion, eyes catching the scar that stretches over the right side of his lips. “Do you find me amusing?” you frown.

“A little bit,” the dark haired man responds quickly, leading you to reel slightly in shock. He appears so unaffected by you, and you’ve never encountered a person who hasn’t scrambled to kneel in your presence or nervously abide by any and everything you say. The gaul of this stranger, you think, to stand before you so casually and smile as though your position of authority is some sort of joke.

“I beg your pardon?” you scoff. “You should mind yourself when you speak to me.”

“I’m not paid to speak to you, doll, let alone be sweet on you,” Toji scratches under his jaw, his posture slipping into something resembling his nature rather than that of a rigid guard. His hands find the pockets of his uniform slacks, hardly caring at all how disrespectful the stature appears to you. “In fact, I think you’re bein’ a little rude by tryin’ to strike a conversation with me in the first place.”

“Well, I did not advise you to answer me. I expected you to simply listen,” you state firmly. “Clearly, you are incapable of doing so without having something to say.”

Your comment is snarky, judgmental, and Toji at least finds that you match the idea of snobbiness that all royalty withhold. “If I got somethin’ to say,” he starts. “I’ll say it. You don’t gotta worry about me being untruthful with ya, I’ll tell you that. I’ll give it to ya straight.”

“And how do you think the royal guard would feel about such a thing?” you posed. “If they were to hear even a second of what you are saying to me now, you’d be booted from my side and this palace immediately.”

“And what exactly makes you think that I care about that?” he chuckles, watching you shift with sudden uncertainty. This man does not appear to be swayed by you in the slightest, and it is a bit off putting to you as a woman accustomed to your every beck and call being honored. “I thought you weren’t happy about what the ‘royal guard’ had me doin’. Besides, if you wanted me out, you’re the princess, yeah? You could kick me out yourself. I ain’t stoppin’ ya.”

Your lips tighten, eyes digging further together. His attitude is strange to you as well as his dialect, the manner in which he speaks. Even his appearance is strange, for while he is dressed in your palace’s fabrics, he is drabber than everything around you. And even with this royal clothing, his face and build do not match his suit. 

He has tired bags under his poisonous haze of ivy hues. Dark tendrils of inky hair sprout over his forehead, his ears, and into his sharp gaze. His facial structure is hard, mature with hints of stubble sprouting over his chin, remnants of what you assume to be the guard forcing him to shave. He’s bulky as well, remarkably so. He’s an unnaturally large man, and his muscles bulge against his clothing as though it is going to burst with the raise of his arm. 

His eyes, however, are pools of green you have never seen before - not once in all your twenty seven years of living. While the people that you surround yourself with carry a light in their twinkling gazes sparked by a passion for protecting your throne and the privilege of the lives they lead, your new bodyguard’s eyes are a stark contrast. Even from afar, you can see the exhaustion swirling about them as he looks at you slyly. He’s weary somehow, the windows of his soul revealing a glimpse into his world, into the things he has seen, and that is how you deduce that he is not the same as you. Not at all. 

This observation of yours only gives you more reason to question him.

“Who are you?” you command. “You’re not from here.”

“You must be a smart one,” he quips sarcastically.

You grit your teeth. “Answer me, now.”

“You know my name, darlin’. That’s all you need from me.”

“Not if your princess demands to know your identity.”

“You ain’t my princess, girlie,” he stops you. “You’re my job. And I don’t do a lot of talkin’ on the job.”

You make a noise of displeasure, something between a grunt and a gasp, and Toji only revels in the way he has thrown you off. You sputter, taking a step forward with emotion. “Now you wait just a minute-“

“Princess!” a voice calls for you from around the corner, down at the end of the long narrow hallway by your bedroom door. You quickly swish yourself around into the direction of the address, and Toji watches how your dainty fabrics dance along with you, even long after you have stopped moving. Seconds later, an ambassador appears, peeking his head around the wall. “Are you well? You are needed in the second floor den to review some papers regarding your upcoming coronation.”

Frazzled, you nod unceremoniously. “Yes. Yes, my apologies,” you breathe out. “I am coming. My guard and I were just… I was merely informing him of my expectations here on out.”

Toji would have rolled his eyes at the way you all speak, the sound of it on his ears rather exhausting. He can hardly keep up with the properness of it all. 

“I see,” the ambassador nods. “I shall inform everyone that you are on your way.”

The man leaves, and you take a moment to breathe in and dust yourself off. You murmur under your breath to yourself what Toji can only deduce as assurances and affirmations, little words you tell yourself to keep your rather striking confidence instilled. You clasp your hands once more, bracelets clinking as you regain your composure. Toji stands in silence, watching boredly.

“Whoever you are,” you begin, turning your head to your shoulder so that your voice is audible. “I don’t need you. Despite what my parents say, I manage fine on my own. Keep your distance.”

The green eyed man watches you walk off, forcing himself to begin following at a reasonable pace. His eyes train on the back of you as you trek ahead, and he finds himself lost in his thoughts, formulating his opinion of you.

You do not take to him easily over the course of your adjustment to each other, and neither does he. You find his presence to be a burden as he trails after you everywhere you go, far more invasive and persistent than your knights have ever been. He becomes your second shadow, and while you are accustomed to having been followed around all your life, Toji’s approach is impossible to ignore. 

Even from ten feet away, you feel him there, watching, and it drives you mad. 

He’s light on his feet, for if it weren’t for his obvious mass trekking in your footsteps, at times you would have forgotten that he was even nearby. How someone as big as him could travel so quietly, you did not understand.

And worse than his hovering is how foreign he still is to you. You know absolutely nothing about him, and your parents, who you find to be useless in their aging stupors these days, will not bother to tell you anything about where he is from. It isn’t the fact that he frightens you, per say, despite the rather frightening energy that he emits. You notice the way people stare as he follows your path, how they internally conjure their own ideas about who this ominous figure is and what he is doing in a place so very clearly unfit for his type, but you are not scared. You believe him to be a nuisance more than anything, and if he is there to protect you, you feel you have nothing to necessarily worry about in regard to your own safety. 

In fact, you feel unfathomably secure, though irritated more often than not.

What you seek from Toji are answers. He abruptly appears out of nowhere under the vow that he will be stuck to you like paste to parchment for the rest of your life, and you are expected not to question his arrival? To question his place of origin? To question what he has done to secure a place as the Princess’ bodyguard with no experience in this field? To question what he has done to be trusted by royalty with your life?

It doesn’t make any sense to you, and you feel that it is unfair to be kept in the dark as the future queen in place of your parents. And every time you try to go to him about it, he either ignores you or gives you that cunning smile, scar stretching and lips spreading.

Toji himself is itching to get out of here the second he’s nestled in. He despises the atmosphere, the sneering looks, the air of shrewdness that envelopes him everywhere he turns. You’re an ungrateful thing, and that only makes his job all the more aggravating. You don’t know how good you have it, and yet you look at him like he’s doing more harm to your life than good when he is literally ensuring that you are out of danger’s path.

He studies you from his position ten feet away, watching how you take on tasks and prepare for the day of your coronation, communicating with villagers surrounding the palace walls with a generous grin and a glowing energy about your presence, and how you patiently sit with your parents at breakfast, lunch, and dinner each day as they practically wither away in their seats. You are always so poised and polite in the presence of other people, authoritative and strong, yet when he is alone with you, you’re wallowing in displeasure, throwing him heated glances and clenching your jaw tightly. You find it hard to behave elegantly in his company, and that fact alone gives him some hint of satisfaction. 

But what Toji truly can’t stand above all the waiting that he has to do on you with no sign of action are the meetings you have with princes from far away, seeking to take your hand as their bride and fulfill the role as king. Toji’s found himself biting his tongue more times than he can count when he’s standing with his back pressed to the wall in one of your many tea rooms, the umpteenth shiny haired, pearly teethed virgin bowing his head before you and pompously chanting about all the wonderful things he would bring to your life if you were to allow him to wed you. Toji finds the whole thing ridiculous, for obviously you don’t want to share your crown with another man, especially not a husband, but the unspoken law of your reign requires that you must find someone to stand by your side. And of course after that is done, Toji is still expected to follow you around day in and day out.

And for what? What purpose does this bring him aside from money? He hasn’t even been given his first stipend a month into this little endeavor, and he’s beginning to think that the whole ordeal is a scam, that he had been tricked into a false agreement. He should have known when the guard outright refused to pay him up front beforehand due to their lack of trust in his goals, which in truth was fair, because the Fushiguro would have run for the hills the second he got his hands on those riches. Nevertheless, he’s growing tired of the repetitive tiredness of his routine. He was promised a chance to at least defend your honor by fighting, but despite the King and Queen’s concerns, he has not seen a single threat to your life yet. 

At night, a weight drags down on his chest as he stares up at the ceiling in a daze. He doesn’t know what he’s doing here, how he even came across such a thing. Back home, if the townfolk were to hear about where he had run off to, they’d all laugh. Toji Fushiguro, the man hungry for blood now at the will of the government that destroyed his childhood, his life. What a fucking joke. 

And you’re so perfect, it destroys him. To be serving such a deplorable image of sovereignty, to see your angelic face decorated in breathtaking clothes and to follow you around like a damn puppy with nothing to show for it. In your company, he is reminded of his place, of how much higher you are than he is. Though Toji is a man who has never cared what the higher class thought of him, in your wake, he feels helpless. He wants to say that he is holding out for a better future, that he is doing this for himself, but it doesn’t feel that way. He knows it’s not for him anymore, but for you, and what could you possibly bring him other than crisis after crisis, heart clench after heart clench, and more bubbling, searing aggravation over his place in society?

You are terribly beautiful, and Toji is not. He sees that the more he’s at your side, taking in the way everyone looks at you in comparison to how everyone looks at him. These palace walls are stuffy. They suffocate him, turn him against himself and almost make him forget who he is, and he can not stand it. 

He is convinced he needs to leave in the dead of night, to flee away without a trace left behind, off to a new world with no money and no plan. He believes that it would be a better fate than being stuck here… that is, until he is finally paid.

A monthly salary of a thousand gold and silver pennies combined. He is handed the sack of funds while he is off duty, hours after you have gone to sleep as though the exchange is illegal, and in the privacy of his cabin, his eyes glimmer with the reflection of the money in his grasp. His brow twitches, eyes still and jaw tightening.

He hadn’t believed it to be real before he got his hands on it.

He stares into the bag, into the past years he has spent on his knees crawling for barely even a scrap of this, into the future of tranquility where he can turn to rest without having to bloody his hands for the right to buy a sandwich, into everything he has ever done amounted into far less than one bag of this payment. He’s stupefied with disbelief, with greed, and hurries to escape that very night.

Toji is stripping himself of the bullshit pajamas the guard has sent for him to wear, tucking away the bullshit uniform he’s been snug in for weeks, and stuffing his pay into his beaten bag that he had tossed under his barracks. He changes back into his old clothes, the black shirt that hugs him comfortably and the sweats that pool over his calves, and he sneaks to the door when he pauses.

A glass window breaks just above him, and he whips his head up above. It’s coming from where your room is.

The dark haired man hangs his head low, conflicted. He could go, abandon you and pretend that none of this ever happened. He could go back on his promise to the kingdom, sentence himself to death by hand of royalty if he were to ever be discovered in his new home. He could flee from you, risking the chance of you dying under his protection and run off to live the life he has always dreamed of living, far from home, swimming in gold and silver.

Or he could stay. He could conquer whatever imposing danger he has detected within a half of a millisecond, his senses failing to fool him yet, and save your life. He could keep his promise to this awful society. His promise to you, and remain stuck forever.

Toji is inching out of the door, still pondering, leaning toward the latter hesitantly when a muffled scream rips from the open space of your window that has just been broken in. Your scream.

The dark haired man doesn’t know what takes over him as he drops his bag to the ground and rockets himself through his own window, foot first, to shatter the glass. His hands grip the rim as he flips himself over to face the exterior brick, digging his chipped fingernails into the crevices of the old stone to scale the side of the building that led to your room with swift agility. He claws his fingers into the ledge of your window past the grapple of a rope that was likely used to break in in the first place. A jagged edge of glass cuts his skin, but he hardly feels it due to the roughness of his callouses. 

Toji kicks his feet up and piles himself into your room, rolling onto the floor within a matter of at least five seconds. He rises slowly, chest rippling into his tight shirt as he visually locates what harm is befalling you.

You’re on your bed, kicking out against the cloaked figure hovering over you with a dirtied hand pressing over your mouth, his knees kicking open your thighs and another hand holding a dagger to your throat. A bruise circles the eye of the intruder just above the cloth worn over his mouth, likely a result of your fist to his face.

When you look up and find Toji, your panicked eyes widen in relief, your brows pressed together desperately as you screech out against the attacker’s palm. Your hair, normally so meticulously pinned is sprawled messily over your silk sheets, your satin nightgown threatening to ride up your thighs, ripped at the hims, and sweat pools over your chest as it glistens in the moonlight with each heavy, anguished breath you take. 

Toji’s eyes go dull, his face blank with something horrifying, yet familiar to him. You tremble, whimpering unintelligible sounds as the intruder turns to face Toji with foolish anger. “Get back!” he shouts through his mask. “Get back or I'll kill her!”

The knife’s tip presses further into your chin and you inhale sharply, squeezing your eyes tight and mustering up whatever strength you have left to turn and push away. 

Toji says nothing, staring emptily into your attacker’s eyes.

Toji finds that there is a certain coolness that takes over his body and mind mere moments before he goes in for a kill. He isn’t sure if it's a form of tranquility, or perhaps his fellowship with the act having done so many times over. His eyes gloss ever, and every muscle in his body smoothes out into a relaxed state. He is motionless, still as a sculpture, but his eyes are hungry with rage, flecks of red bleeding into the garden of his IRISES, honing in on his target before he pounces.

You don’t even see Toji move before your attacker is ripped off of you and you can finally breathe, scrambling to press your back to your headboard and stare ahead in horror. You swear you had only blinked, but by the time your teary vision refocuses, Toji is drenched up to his forearm in blood, a curved blade which seemed to manifest out of thin air clutched in his hand. His arm is curved over his mouth, reaching back over his alternate shoulder as though he had just made a slicing motion. His breathing is slow, smooth, and a headless body collapses onto your floor.

Wide eyes of fear-stricken (e/c) stare at the mangled corpse leaking out onto your expensive carpet, and you don’t even notice the splatter of blood that has reached your cheek from Toji’s nimble action. You’re hyperventilating, attempting to gather yourself after having been stolen from your sleep and held at knifepoint, and now suddenly your attacker is dead on the ground. It had all happened so fast. Your head is spinning, and you’re shaking terribly. You can’t even see straight. 

With a heavy exhale, Toji lowers his twitching bicep to his side, tossing his weapon off in the corner with a resounding clang! He rolls his head on his neck, stretching it from side to side and cracking it softly, before opening his eyes to find you. 

You stare at each other in heavy silence, you in grateful, terrified disbelief, and him with the knowledge of how you will react to his violence. He has seen it before. The screeches that follow, the running that ensues.

He waits for it, but… it doesn’t come.

Instead, you just stare at him like a deer in headlights.

He moves to ask if you are alright, to do something to break the air, when your door bursts open after hefty pounds at your door. Your parents and a few guards, who Toji now sees are quite useless, stand in the doorway, wide-eyed. 

Your parents move to comfort you and envelop you in their arms while the guards run to the scene in shock, mulling over the body that lay before Toji. He gets an earful, angry reprimanding about having done such a horrible act right before your eyes, and Toji looks over at you, finding that your eyes are already in him.

You try to speak up and say that he had no other choice, to actually defend Toji in your shaken state, but the authorities around you hear none of it and usher to whisk you away while Toji and a few knights are left to take care of his mess. You look over your shoulder, gluing your gaze to him as you are pulled carefully away. 

By the time Toji is finished, cleaned, and has been lectured by the guard, he finds himself rather exhausted, but all he can think about is whether you’re alright or not. He is told that he can find you in the library on the west wing. He ventures out and reaches the space, finding you seated in a lavish sofa before your fireplace with the room guarded by your father and mother who whisper urgently with more knights. When they look up and see Toji, however, they fall silent and immediately part to let him in. 

He quietly approaches, shutting the door softly behind him. He doesn’t make a sound, but you turn upon sensing him in the room. You’re cuddled into a warm blank that is wrapped over your shoulders, eyes heavy and tears damp. You sit in a sullen state, a still mess.

Toji rounds the sofa to stand far on your left side, body half concealed by the shadows of the unlit side of the library. The fire kindles gently over your face and in your eyes as you stare. Toji thinks that you almost look like a child this way, so vulnerable and disheartened. 

He’s seen things like this happen to women every day at home, only he didn’t always make it to help in time. For the first time since knowing you, he sees the same trauma in your eyes, the glimmer of innocence dimming ever so slightly. 

The dark haired man is not good with emotions, and he knows for damn sure that he will not know how to approach your own. He isn’t even meant to be speaking with you, but something deep in his bones is compelling him to you after witnessing you in such a horrible state. 

It’s his job after all. 

“You hurt?”

The question is gruff, blunt, and you look at him but not with an expectation for more. You sit with your knees to your chest as well, a position he has failed to ever see the Princess herself in. 

Eventually, you shake your head and look back to the fire crackling before you. “No.”

He hums, darting his eyes over you quickly. He sees a thin line of blood on your chin where the blade had been pointed into your skin. “You lyin’?”

You glance at him tiredly. “I am not injured,” you say again.

“Alright. You’re not injured.”

You look down, picking at your blanket as you chew on the inside of your lip. “…Toji.”

“Yeah?”

“Are you an assassin?”

The question catches Toji off guard, almost making him laugh. “That’s a little personal, doll.”

“I believe I deserve to ask right now. Forget the rules, the guards were not there. You were.”

He relaxes. You’ve got a point. “No. I ain’t an assassin. At least not every day.”

“But you have… done that before…”

“How else do you think I got the job?”

“Right,” you mutter as if reprimanding yourself for asking something so obvious. “You’re rather fast.”

He’s unsure where this stream of questions are coming from. You are still mellow, speaking below a whisper, but your eyes are in a different space away from what is before you. 

“Fast’s an understatement,” he mumbles and you give a nod, at least agreeing. “But yeah. I’m fast. Among other things.”

“And how long have you been…?”

“Killing?” Toji concludes the sentiment for you. You clamp your lips, retreating into yourself. “You can say it. It’s not gonna hurt ya.”

“Well, how long?”

Toji shrugs. “A while now I guess. I’m not a killer, but I do what I need to do when I have to.”

You nod, unable to find a verbal response to his words. Your lips purse forward and your eyes still beam into the fireplace in a daze.

Toji crosses his arms. “You scared of me yet?”

You exhale, corners of your lips tugging to the side. “You saved my life,” you say. “I am not scared of someone who has been hired to protect me.”

“That wasn’t really a pretty sight for a princess to see, though,” Toji attempts to reason.

“Yet you were not the man with the knife to my throat, were you?”

Toji falters. Once more, you’re right, but he’s a bit confused. He would have expected you to turn away from him, to reject his violent nature after seeing what he could do. But here you are, complacent with his abilities. Is it because of the shock?

He looks at you closer, but does not see any lingering signs of unawareness, or any stupor that freezes your mind and body. While you still look like you are slightly in a trance, you appear to simply be contemplating instead of suffering from shock. 

How are you so chill about all of this?

“I heard you’ve been attacked before,” Toji says rather bluntly. This makes you peek up, locking your eyes with his steely ones from afar. 

An exhale shakes your body. “So?”

“So?” he echoes with a scoff. “That’s not a big deal to you?”

“I told you before that I did not need you,” you say somewhat gently. “What you have seen tonight has happened more than you think, and will continue to happen in the future.”

“I hate to break it to ya, doll, but it didn’t look like ya didn’t need me. You didn’t really have much of a choice but to let me help you.”

“I have gotten out of those situations before. I could have gotten out of this one.”

Toji looks at you oddly. “Not from where I was standin’, you couldn’t.”

“I’m not weak,” you frown.

“I didn’t say you were. Hell, I saw the black eye you landed on the bastard before I snuffed his ass out,” Toji grumbles. “But you’re the Princess. Fightin’ isn’t your thing, it’s mine.”

“Do not attempt to fool me into thinking you wish to fight on my behalf,” you look him in the eye as you speak. “After all, you believe me to be inexperienced, don’t you? Sheltered. Naive.”

A moment of silence passes as Toji stares at you intensely, face cold. “Yeah. I do,” he admits. “If you’ve seen enough shit I’ve seen, you’d get why.”

Your eyes dance over his face with a pensive expression of patience. Your brows are slightly angled, denting the spaces between them, yet you breathe so deeply that it almost fools Toji into believing you are at peace.

“When I was six years old,” you start abruptly. “A tutor of mine tossed a candle to my head because I could not complete my times tables correctly. The wax and flame burned my shoulder badly when I tried to dodge. I have worn long sleeve gowns since,” you confess.

The dark haired man frowns, befuddled while you proceed.

“My grandmother, who had been heavily involved in my bringing when I was a child, was obsessed with cleanliness. Every night before I went to bed, she would inspect my room to ensure that it was tidy. If a single spec of dust was found on my floor, she would raise the back of her hand and smack me clear across the face. ‘You are a princess,’ she would say. ‘Princesses do not behave like slobs.’ Then she’d make me clean the room all over again. If it was still not to her liking, she would continue to hit me, and so on. I had welts on my body for years. I would try to ask my parents to tell her to stop, but they ranked her authority over my own every time. They believed her to be teaching me discipline. Now I do not sleep at night without inspecting every inch of my room for anything that is out of place.”

Toji’s face smooths slowly into something unreadable as he listens to you.

“When I was seventeen, I learned that men sought to ruin me. Diplomats and countrymen would visit with the same look in their eye when they saw me as I grew, seeking to force their hand to mine. One of them was banished after having been caught throwing himself onto me when I was alone. He left bruises on my arm from gripping me too hard when I tried to run away.”

Toji falters completely now, internally guffawed by your revelations.

“Over the years, I have been beaten, assaulted, and almost killed by those close to me, by those envious of me, and by those who want but can not have me. And now, with the influx of assassination attempts, I can do nothing but what I have been doing all my life; stand strong and kick.”

Your eyes swirl with honesty and grief as they lock with Toji’s pools of torment. “I may not know who you are, nor do I know where you came from or what you have been through, but do not assume that because we do not share the same origins that I am a stranger to the world’s cruelty. The kingdom tricks you into believing that we are a perfect society, when in reality, we are tainted by dark secrets swept under the rug and generational traumas. I have seen enough of reality within these palace walls surrounded by people I am meant to trust, only I do not trust any of them but myself. 

“I can see it in your eyes that you are broken too. You carry yourself in such a way, but do not allow that to blind you from any hardships I have experienced in my life. We are not the same, but I know inhumanity very well.”

Toji, rendered speechless for the first time in a very long time, watches as you lean over and reach to the other side of the sofa for something on the floor. You gradually reveal his satchel, the one he had dropped to rush to save you, and sit it on the cushion beside you. Toji’s eyes widen slightly when the contents of his bag clink together like wind chimes brushing each other in the wind.

“One of the royal guard found this in the hall,” you say calmly, lowering your hand back under your blanket. “I told him to let me hold onto it. That you must have misplaced it. Were you planning to leave tonight?”

Toji exhales, threading his fingers through his hair and glancing over the floor. Still moved by what you had told him about your upbringing, the man finds himself caught off guard once more by your confrontation. You’re smart, he has to hand it to you. Much smarter than he had previously given you credit for.

“Let’s face it,” Toji sighs. “You and I both know I don’t belong here. The whole kingdom knows. This place isn’t where I’m s’posed to be.”

“And still you took the job anyway,” you challenge. “This was your scheme all along? To take off with the first bit of money you acquire from watching over me?”

“Do you expect anythin’ more?”

“I expected you to be wiser,” you admit. 

“I am bein’ wise.”

“By fleeing from the only life of luxury that you have ever known?”

“I don’t live in luxury here, doll. I’m your bodyguard.”

“Even so, your bag is full of enough money to buy yourself a home, and that is only the first monthly payment. That isn't a luxury to you?”

“Luxury, to me, is doin’ what I want when I want it without havin’ to worry about anything else ever again.”

“Then where are you supposed to be?”

“Far from here.”

“You did sign a contract, you know. The guard and my parents would not take well to your abrupt absence. You would be treasoned.”

“Which is why I’d be long gone before they could find me.”

You sigh, turning away. Toji monitors you for a sign of disappointment, of anger, of desperation, but instead you remain indifferent. “I will not stop you if you choose to go,” you say.

Toji cocks a brow, lowering his arms to his sides. “You won’t?”

“You are your own man with your own ability to make decisions. I do not fault you for wishing to leave. I do not know you well enough to do so.”

Toji eyes you harshly, stepping closer and breaking the barrier of a ten foot distance. He approaches the other side of the sofa, peering down at you heavily as if to piece you apart. “You’re just gonna let me go,” he tests. “The hell do you gain from that?”

“Must it be about what I gain?” you ask. 

“I’m just a little shocked you’re not more pissed about this.”

“Toji, I was the Princess before you came and I will continue to be the Princess after you leave. I am not angry about what life you choose to live if it is separated from mine. I do not know what is best for you. That’s for you to decide.”

“And what about your guard?”

“They will be fine.”

“What about you?”

You soften. “I will be fine too.”

His mouth twitches. “I ain’t convinced.”

“Do you wish to leave or not?” you question. “You can not worry for my sake and desire to run away at the same time.”

“I ain’t-“ he stops himself, shaking his head and pressing his hands into the armrest. He wants to deny caring about what will happen to you, but his current hesitation over leaving proves otherwise. “You coulda died.”

“I could have died many times,” you counter. “I always manage.”

“And if one day, you don’t?”

“That will not happen.”

“Yeah, only if I’m there.”

You raise your brows and Toji catches himself, clenching and unclenching his jaw. He glances at his bag and reminds himself of his future, of his plans, of his life, and then he looks back at you, swarming in your wool blanket with such lovely eyes. Free of your jewelry, your crown, and your extravagant gowns and makeup, you look more human. You look softer, and Toji battles a newfound internal conflict - his growing desire to stay. 

Slowly, a soft smile rises to your lips that does not reach your eyes. Your soft skin, aglow by the flames before you, illuminates the warmth of your expression. “Do not tell me you are beginning to feel a duty toward me?”

“Duty ain’t in my vocabulary,” Toji defends, looking away. 

“Then why are you still here?”

He catches the testing look on your face and exhales in weary amusement. “Don’t get smart with me now, Princess. You won’t win that battle.”

“Just make up your mind, Toji,” you tilt your head and toss him a knowing look. 

You carefully shift and maneuver your body around so that you are laying your head on the cushion with your legs curled up to you, Toji’s bag still sitting on your left. The said man’s eyes follow the motion. “What’re you doin?” he asks.

“I’m going to try to get some rest,” you murmur, though you do not close your eyes. You stare ahead in exhaustion, but no urge to sleep comes over you. “You may do as you please. If you are not here in the morning and your bag is gone, I will assume that you have left.”

Toji looks back at his bag, torn. He’s itching to grab it, to swipe it up in his grasp and make a break for it, but there you are. The Princess, soon to be Queen of everything Toji has ever resented, and suddenly he feels a human connection to you. The things you told him, the steadiness of your voice as you spoke, the maturity in your eyes, the hidden, harbored scars, the arrogant will you carry to proceed into this life alone despite your susceptibility to harm… it got to him. 

And when he saw your face as you lay trapped under your intruder, how your body writhed with the involuntary will to fight despite your disadvantage, Toji was taken completely by an urge, a responsibility to protect you. To look after you. To kill for you. 

Therefore, neither of you say a word when Toji moves to pick up his bag and toss it onto the floor. In its place, he sits at your feet and tosses his arms over the back of the headrest, legs sprawled out before him as he watches the fire beside you. 

He stays there until the sunrise, and solidifies his fate.

After that night, Toji feels himself changing. Time goes by and you only grow stronger, approaching your coronation swiftly and taking on the role of Queen with regal pride. Toji finds himself staring at you when he’s by your side, which you have appointed him to after having a tense conversation with the royal guard, resulting in him no longer having to linger ten feet away at all times. He stands rather closely now when it is appropriate to do so, glaring ahead menacingly as he towers over your frame while you conduct meetings or speak with foreign princes and diplomats, who Toji keeps a sharp eye on with the knowledge of what you shared with him about your past interactions. 

He thinks of the pressure that weighs over you, and studies how you harbor so along with your traumas with so much poise. You don’t allow the things you have gone through to weigh you down, to deter your path, and he grows impressed with the strength of your mind. Without such, you likely would not be where you are today. 

Toji becomes one of the very few people you entrust your life with, if not the only person you fully trust to take your life into his hands. Despite his initial plans to leave you, he proves himself loyal to you, standing guard outside your room every night instead of retreating to his chambers and preventing disasters before they even happen. With his keen senses and hawk-like gaze, he catches suspicious figures in crowds, which he can recognize easily due to his upbringing as well. He used to be one of those lurking shadows, stalking packed spaces to find a target, only he was always too swift to be caught. 

Toji now takes to disposing of the people who mean you harm in private, away from your vision. While you are well aware of his capabilities, Toji has a tendency to become borderline sadistic when killing for you. Inspired now by his respect for you and your budding relationship, the honesty in your eyes and the sanctity of your life in his hands, he is more ruthless than he ever has been before in private, and he does not want you burdened by the vision. The guard does not question him, taking to caring for your parents and watching the palace walls while Toji handles the direct threats unto you. No one in the palace questions him any longer, for you have grown close to him and he to you, and the proof of him risking himself time and time again for the sake of you forces all heads away and onto the next thing. 

During the day, he is still and mute, a brick wall of eerie, bulky freight, but at night when you are alone, he’s making you laugh, sharing stories with you about gruesome bar fights he has been involved in and past jobs that have given him a run for his money. You always listen with curiosity, eyes bright with intrigue as a long forgotten book lay in your lap as you watch him, absorbing tellings of a world far from your reach. He does his best to leave out gory details, like the things that tend to keep him up at night, the things he is ashamed of having lived, but you always understand. You can always see more of him than he lets on in his gaze, how he stands and tenses, how he looks away after having held your gaze for too long. 

The dark haired man finds that he has never felt such security that you bring him, that while he keeps you safe, he feels safe in your defense, in your presence, in your path. You ease his mind somehow with your gentle grace and your unearthly beauty, with your loud cackles that he draws from you after dinner when he walks you to your room, a far cry from the contained chuckles you allow to slip when cozying up to someone for diplomatic and political purposes. 

You ease his mind with your warm grins, your soft hands that brush his arm when you get his attention, with the sweet breath that tickles his ear when you lean up to cup your hand over your mouth and whisper something to him. He always has to lean down for you as you reach up on your tiptoes, informing him of a task he must carry out in secret when all he can think about is the shiver that racks his spine when your coo of a whisper flutters directly into his ear. 

Toji does not want to admit that you make him feel strange when he starts to notice the way his chest tightens as you brush past, the air of your perfume lingering in his nose. He does not want to admit that this foreign warmth he now feels takes over his entire being, melting his hardened soul after he believed it to be beyond repair. He does not want to admit that he recognizes this feeling as love solely because he has never felt it before, never experienced the visceral pump of his blood into his heart or the honeyed comfort that slips into his understanding of lust. He does not want to admit that you attract him as more than someone he wishes to ravish, but as someone he has come to cherish deeply. 

He does not think it affects his job, for he has been at your side for nearly a year when you are finally appointed Queen and he still performs incredibly well. He stands at the upper corner of the grand hall, diamond chandelier twinkling brilliantly above your head in your wake as you inch your way down the aisle and up the purple velveted carpet. The kingdom watches you in awe, your gold encrusted gown dragging delicately over the floor, manicured hands clasped before you as you approach with your chin high and your chest puffed. You are a vision of artistry, of indescribable, unfathomable beauty, and Toji knows he loves you when he catches himself smiling gently as he watches you graze the room like fresh dew beaming on a crisp, sunlit morning. 

There is no sign of an attack when your new crown is placed upon your head, thanks to Toji and the word of his talents spreading like wildfire across villages, lands, and kingdoms alike. The entire world by now must know of the Queen’s bodyguard, who sticks to her side like glue and wipes out anything that even thinks of creeping into her path. His reputation proceeds him once more, yet now, he is proud of who he has become. He is proud, now, that he is killing for the good that is you, a woman deserving of every goodness that comes to her in this world, instead of for his own survival.

You do not marry. You refuse once you gain the power to deny the visiting of any more suitors, much to Toji’s relief. He had never been a fan of watching men kiss your feet, take your pretty hand in theirs and look you in the eye with a bent knee. He would have killed them all if you had not frowned upon so, for he did not believe anyone to be as deserving of a woman working to rebuild the economy for the sake of Toji’s village and all those who suffered along with him with such compassion and selflessness, not even him - as much as he cared for you.

Somehow, Toji’s duty to you triumphs over his desire for you. While he struggles, he respects you more than he has respected any human being in his life. His job is to make sure that you live, and that you do so peacefully and happily. You have transformed him into a noble man, and how you did so, he barely knows. What he does know, however, is that he loves you as much as he honors you. You are his Queen, he is your bodyguard - your right hand. He would never interfere with the boundaries set between the two of you, with the responsibility he has to you. 

Consequently, he stubbornly pushes away the telling looks that you share with him, your eagerness to jest, to press your touch to him and feel you near him, to remind yourself that he is still there. 

He knows. He sees it in your eyes, the unspoken yearning, the reason why you do not wish to marry anyone else, and you know that he knows, but he says nothing. He breaks his gaze away, he guides you back with a gentle hand to your waist and upper arm, and he leaves you every night, redrawing the line, keeping you at such a close distance. 

It’s been two years. The two of you now know one another better than you’ve known anyone, and Toji has been with you through thick and thin, through the death of you parents, the conflict with the council over the uncertainty regarding a future heir, your silent fatigue that only shows itself at the end of the day when no one else is looking and it is only you and him as he bids you good night. He’s seen it all, and you have seen him just as clearly. 

Tonight is no different as you enter your room sluggishly, sinking into the edge of your bed as you gaze ahead, an emptiness in your eyes. Toji stands at your door, examining you sternly. You look beat, aged by the years and the burden of ruling. The veil of composure lifts from you, and you slump, gown crowding over the floor and your aching feet, which dangle over the bed. 

Wordlessly, the dark haired man sighs and closes the door behind him. Within a second, he is kneeling before you, calloused hands grazing over the many layers of your gown to delicately cup your ankle. His touch pulls you back to reality and you look down, brows curling ever so subtly.

Toji cradles the back of your ankle and grips the stem of your glass heel. He slowly glides the cramping footwear from your foot, setting it to the side once it is free from its confinements. You watch him with ardor swelling in your gaze, his hands so rough when handling others, smoothing over your skin as though you are fragile.

He moves to your other shoe and glances up when he catches you staring in that way that makes his heart ache. “What is it, doll?” he murmurs, the nickname he bestowed upon you once condescendingly having stuck in a sweeter, more genuine manner. 

You don’t answer. You only gaze gratefully, tiredly, while Toji sets your other shoe to the side. He stays down on his knee, looking up at you. 

“You alright?” he asks and you sigh deeply. 

“You are the only person in this world I feel I can be myself with,” you eventually say earnestly, gently. Toji blinks, shifting slightly and nodding slowly.

“Back at ya,” is all he can manage to say under your loving stare. He almost feels suffocated by the way your eyes swallow him whole. “I get what you mean.”

“Everyone is just so-” you lift your hands in an attempt to physically depict what you want to say, but the words fail you and your arms stall in the air. “So-”

“Shitty?” Toji fills in with his own words for it, and you smile with a light giggle.

“Yes,” you drop your hands to your lap. “Shitty.”

Toji chuckles, the sound of you cursing still so funny to him. “Don’t I know it,” he agrees. He looks over your gown before back into your eyes, preparing to stand. “I’ll go call for the maids so they can’t get you outta this thing. You need to sleep.”

“Don’t,” you shake your head the second he moves to get up. He stops, sinking back down. “Not right now. I don’t want to see anyone else but you.”

Toji clenches his jaw, your words so sweet it kills him. “Don’t you wanna change? You get cranky in this thing after dark,” he jokes. 

“I know,” you say. Something flickers in your eyes as you look over his figure, a hint of desire swirling into weariness. “You do it.”

Toji furrows his brows. “What?”

“I want you to help me out of my dress instead,” you whisper. The green eyed man thinks he must have heard you incorrectly, his eyes going wide as he registers your request. “There’s nightgowns in that dresser over there. Bring one to me.”

“(Y/n),” he warns, heart fluttering and skin flushing over his chest. “I’m not gonna do that. It’s not right.”

“Why not?” you press. “As your Queen, I am giving you a task.”

“Yeah, but-” he scoffs, shaking his head. “I’m not gonna strip ya. That ain’t… I won’t do that.”

“Toji,” you lean forward, lids heavy over your eyes. You call his name sternly, yet still so quietly, and he can not help but bide by your will each time his name slips from your tongue in such a way when you need him. “I am asking you to help me. It is not wrong if it is what I want.”

“It’s wrong ‘cause I’m your bodyguard, not your-”

His words die in his throat before he can finish his sentence. “Not my what?” you mumble.

He gets lost in your gaze, in your scent, and he is struggling to find the words. His face is tense, brows knitted and lips curled, his scar creasing along with them. “I’m not in any place to do this stuff. You know that.”

“You are because I say that you are.”

“Anyone ever tell ya you can be a little cocky?” he smirks lightly to sway the mood. 

“Yes,” you roll your eyes. “You have.”

“Oh, that’s right,” he snickers. “Well, you are.”

“Stop trying to change the subject. Help me out of this dress.”

“Doll-”

“Now.”

Toji exhales, for he finds that he has no other choice once you have made up your mind about something. He pushes himself to his feet and stands over you, holding his hand out to you. “C’mon,” he mutters.

You slip your dainty handy into his palm and allow him to pull you up gently to your feet. Your face meets his chest, his height never failing to shock you up close, and when you look up he’s already peering down at you with heavy eyes. 

“Show me how to undo this thing,” he says impatiently under his breath, and you can tell by his hastiness that his nerves are jumping.

“I will, but you need to take your time. It’s fragile,” you whisper and he nods slowly.

“Alright.”

“Can you remove my jewelry?”

He inhales sharply. “Alright,” he says again.

You turn slowly, moving your hair out of the way to expose your neck to him. He grits his teeth, seeking some sort of self control as his fingers move to unclasp your many chains of expensive necklaces. His knuckles brush your skin, and he watches as bumps ghost over your neck after he has touched it. 

Your scent invades him as his hands lower over your shoulders to bring your necklaces down from your chest. His chest bumps against your back accidentally, brushing over your shoulders, and you both twitch at the contact. God, he feels like a teenage boy, losing himself over breathing you in. 

You tell him to go place the necklaces on their stand on your armoire, then to find a nightgown for you to wear. Toji feels weak, rifling through your clothes as though it is a sin to even be seeing them. Your silk fabrics smooth over his fingers before he pinches one into his hand and brings it to lay out on your bed. 

“Now, see the string tying my corset in the back?” you ask over your shoulder, Toji humming distractedly when he locates it and stands behind you again. “Unravel it.”

As though entranced by your demand, he does, despite every voice in his heading screaming in protest. He should not be with you like this, the Queen, so privately in your room lit daily by the kiss of candlelight and swarmed by the scent of patchouli incense and your damned perfume. Toji’s head feels hazy, thick digits tugging at your string and drawing it out slowly, watching as the ribbon unfolds and drapes down your train.

“Now what?” he murmurs.

“Loosen it so I can take it off.”

“Heh?” he scrunches his brows, looking over the weaving of the lace between your corset. 

“Just peel either side of the corset back,” you clarify. “Now that it’s untied, it will come apart.”

He obliges with uncertainty, cautiously tugging back either side of the thick fabric, the lace stretching and pooling over your back. “Okay, I’m going to raise my arms so you can pull it over my head.”

“Jesus, this thing is so damn extra.”

“Be quiet and just do it.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

You lift your arms into the air and Toji catches the way your curves peak out. His eye twitches as he pulls the corset over your head, off your arms, and from your body. A second corset, thinner and more form fitting, graces your waist and exposes your bare back to him, as well as the healed burn on your right shoulder that you told him about so long ago.

He clears his throat, setting the outer corset onto the bed with his fingers stilling on your hip. “What now?” he asks.

“Do the same with the rest. This one’s connected to the bottom part.”

“...What about your… uh…”

“There’s another layer under it, don’t worry,” you assure him. “Why? Is my fierce and scary bodyguard nervous?”

“Don’t even,” he grumbles and your shoulders shake with a silent laugh.

The ruffle of your clothing fills the air as Toji works his fingers through the second set of lace, loosening it and pulling it from your body. You slide your arms from the thin straps of this layer and allow Toji to drag the fabric down. His eyes train on the way it smooths over your frame, a nude colored set revealing as he pulls, pulls, pulls until the fabric is pooling around your ankles.

All that you are covered in now is a hoop cage over your hips and sleeveless underwear the same shade as your skin tone that holds you sinfully tight. Toji’s heart is in his ears and the blood in his body is surging out everywhere, including toward his crotch. He’s biting down on his teeth so hard as he holds your arm and helps you step out of the net like framing for your gown, breaths labored.

Your dazzling (e/c) hues catch his as his hand lingers on your waist and your arm, his figure now before you again. He keeps a tough facial expression, but his eyes yet again give him away as he coolly takes in your body, the way your cleavage pools out of your garments and your skin milks into a breathtaking glow. 

You feel his thumb swipe over the curve of your back, experimentally caressing the space as his other hand slides up your arm and over your shoulder. His thumb touches your chin, reels back hesitantly, then touches again, sliding delicately over your cheek. You welcome the contact, your hands raising to press against his lower abdomen as he lingers over you, so closely, so intimately. You can feel his abdominals, rigid and tense, contract beneath your palms though they are barely touching him, and you look down at how small your fingers look pressing into the wall of his stomach. 

“Doll,” he murmurs, voice gravelly and husky as it breathes out. You hum, lashes fluttering when his hand slides to hold the entire side of your face. He melts before you, your beauty so striking that it almost scares him, and nothing has ever scared Toji Fushiguro before. “You need to get to bed.”

“In a bit,” you mutter, gaze wandering over his lips and back up to his eyes. You sink into him, inching closer until he’s surrounding you, swarming you. “Stand with me like this longer.”

“I can’t stay here much longer. You know that.”

“What I say goes. I say you can.”

“(Y/n).”

“No,” you breathe, shaking your head as he looks over your features softly. “I do not care.”

“Well, I do,” he says, brushing a piece of hair gently from your forehead. You lean into his palm, a soft pout on your lips. “I’ve got one job, and that’s to keep you safe, y’understand?”

“And that is all this is?” you murmur, eyes darting over him. “That is the only reason you protect me? Because it is your job?”

He tilts his head slightly, smoothing his hand up and down your spine as you push yourself closer to him. Against his better judgment, against his instincts, he allows you. Even if just for a moment. Even if he never gets to feel you this way again, so plush against him, yearning and wistful.

“You know that ain’t true,” he tells you.

You bring your hands up, smoothing them up to his chest and you coo. “So stay,” you beg. “Please.”

“You’re killin’ me, y’know that?” he exhales, his nose brushing against yours as you close in on him, just centimeters away from his lips. 

He holds you, shares the same breath as you, and in this moment he forgets about the barrier between you. He forgets where he came from, he forgets what your role in this world is, he forgets his duty to you and how complicated it is that it has now molded into some emotional connection. He forgets that you will need to marry one day to continue your legacy, that he himself is not a King nor a man of royalty, that he was born of hate and abandonment while you were born to be something. He forgets, as your warmth consumes him and the taste of you is so close he can smell it, that he could never take your relationship beyond what it already is. That he is not, and never has been, a man made for love yet somehow you have fooled him into believing that he is made for loving you.

“Why are you fighting me,” your eyes close, fingers inching over his shoulders and arms wrapping around his neck.

“‘Cause I can’t let myself do this to ya,” he grumbles.

“Why?”

“Stop asking me questions.”

“Do you love me?” 

The question is a heated gasp against his mouth, and Toji, no longer harboring the willpower to push away from you, can only respond honestly.

“Y’know I do.”

Your fingers tangle into his silky black hair and his hand brings your faces together. “Then stay.”

“Okay.”

Your lips feel like a fluff of cloud melting into his, the rich, sugary taste of your mouth clashing into his own. You’re soft against his hard body as you crush into him, swooning and sinking as though you no longer have the strength to stand and he is catching you, bringing you to him as though it is the last time he will ever touch you in such a way, the last time he will ever have the privilege of tasting your sacred mouth.

Toji is a rough man, but he handles you gingerly, gradually as he savors you for everything his life has ever been worth. You overstimulate him with your mind numbing squeezes and the gentle sounds of satisfaction that slip from your throat into his. Toji thinks he can die blissfully happy as he encircles you, ravaging your lips with hard brows and a fuzzy mind. He crowds over you, so tall and big that you have no choice but to succumb to all of him in his embrace. He overpowers you, and you adore it, ruffling messily through his locks as his hands wander your hips generously, appreciatively, lovingly. 

He guides you back, leaning over with his hand firm to your back to ease you onto your bed, lips still locked. His body is thinking for itself as his lips swarm you, tongue gliding into yours and searching every space of your cavern. You arch into him needily, sensually, and Toji pushes further though remaining mindful not to hurt you. He wouldn’t dare. 

Your thighs lift to crowd his torso as he curves down into you, hovering over your gorgeous body. His lips crash into your cheek, over your jaw and down your neck, sliding his tongue hungrily over your skin with heady groans. Your lips part and your head tosses back onto your sheets, hushed gasps and contented sighs spilling from you, and even the noises you make are as angelic as you are. 

His large hand cradles your head as he ducks down to care for your chest, hot lips sucking over your skin like he is enjoying a meal. Your hands tighten in his hair, his mouth easing you into astounding pleasure before his lips are back on yours, more desperate, more lustful. 

“Toj…” you moan and he grunts into you, arms caging you beneath him and lower half pressing into your own. Your blurry eyes peer past strands of his hair as he consumes you, kisses you, worships you. 

“Yeah, darlin,” he exhales into your mouth as your bodies writhe against the barrier of clothing. “Talk t’me. What is it, my girl?”

“Do not… mmm, don’t leave me. Not tonight,” you plead in between weighted kisses.

Toji pulls back to look you in the eyes, hands exploring all over you. “Nothin’ could take me from you now, doll,” he swears, pupils enlarged and shrinking the green expanse of his eyes. “I’ll take good care of ya, promise. I swear on m’life. I got you, baby, I got ya.”

You whimper and his lips find yours again, kissing into you his promise of devotion.

Toji swaddles you with love for hours on end, into the early morning, molding marks of his loyalty over your stomach and down your legs, kissing over your scars, and pulling release after release from your core. He’s tender, firm but soft as he makes love to you and molds the shape of him into your essence. Imprints of your fingernails into his skin and your teeth marks into his shoulder encourage him to drag every moan, every ounce of fluid from your body. And god, you feel better than Toji could have ever envisioned. You’ve ruined him with your passion, with your pretty entranced gazes and your loving kisses, your insatiable need for him to give you more and for yourself to give him more. You’re sweet. So sweet, and Toji loves you more than himself, therefore he promises to give you what you want tonight and to return to his responsibility tomorrow.

It is his duty to you after all, to protect you, to love you from afar.

[szarina]

❝ BITTERSWEET BEGINNINGS. ❞

✞ FEATURING. BULLY! GOJO SATORU AND GETO SUGURU

▶ SERIES MASTERLIST

CONTENT WARNINGS. past mentions of being bullied + harassment + injuries + mentions of death + chapter's short.

NOTES. we're getting nearer. thank you for the comments and the reblogs and the notes. you're all the best.

SYNOPSIS. you finally started what you want.

a brush with death's hands and it given you the life to start again or maybe it was the help of your two new friends. nanami and haibara gave you the chance to maybe enjoy life and be just gone with it. put all things behind since you consider it as your second life. if only it was that easy. never been it was easy for someone like you.

bright-eyed you entered the university dead eyes is when you leave it. must be hard that you have to endure all that humiliation for some godforsaken dreams your parents didn't achieve. first in the family they say. you hold no grudge for them. after all children are the extensions of the parents dreams and you were like any of it. you have to achieve it and then you endured. what would they say that their child who wasted their money for a selfish reason. was it still selfish that it was starting to kill you in that position and you wanted to protect yourself. if only you could disappear. you were granted of it. sort of. it only took you a trip to the hospital and almost meeting your creator.

you overdosed. that's what they said and how you could that happen. you never done it your entire life but who cares about it now. you were getting your freedom back. with a heavy heart you have to say goodbye in silence to your parents. apologize that you were never a good daughter to them and for wasting their efforts. in due time, you will pay back for all of that. you need to suffer first to get things your way and to get things on your way now, you needed to disappear.

getting to another university proves to be difficult not when you want to disappear to people like gojo and geto. first thing when they started to make your life hell is to get to know all the important people in your life. they made you remember that you were in no place to fight them. they hold everything dear to you in their palms and what powerless you could do? stand in shame and let do it their way to you. and you know that they will find you after your sudden disappearance.

when satoru and suguru started to show their interest to you and when things started to get extreme and the people that you asked to helped you started disappearing, you knew you have to slowly plan your escape from them but how could you that you were locked under their gaze. they even show how far things can escalate when one of those who believed you got beaten in front of you.

“this is what happens to people you asked for help, (y/n)-chan.” gojo whispers to you. holding your shoulders while you were forced to watch as suguru helplessly beat him. tears welling up in your eyes as he helplessly took every punch. harder than the last one and when suguru sees you with tears rolling down your eyes, he smiles as the man he beat up falls to the ground. face bloody and eyes swelled shut.

he holds both of your cheeks in bloodied hands. “i don't see the reason why they'll go out of their way to help you. what they would gain from you. certainly you have but you're not what pretty should look like. unattractive and stout. how would you match the girls here? you're only good when we fuck you.” suguru explains it to you like it was the reality you needed to wake up to. “try to reach out someone for help and they will get worst than this. understand, hmm?” he hums, smearing your round cheeks with blood. you look up to him. dried blood in his cheek and you nod. understanding that he can do it again and again if he'll have to. he's more of a brute than satoru when angered and you took his anger many times you can count and it always ended with you having to take classes off to recover.

they spun you around. slowly walking away from where your almost savior lays down. you craned your neck to look at him. he managed to open one of his eyes and looks at you and more tears poured from your eyes. mouthing him with i'm sorry, i really am. your lips trembling as remorse took you over. repeating the same words again and again and hoping that it would reach him. you should never asked for help. you should never put someone in danger. it's all your fault. it's all your fucking fault.

you blink the tears away, remembering the day how it ends up to someone who helps nor approach you in anyway.

“i appreciate it but you can't. please yuu, don't.” you tearily told him about your decision. haibara explains it to you what he can offer to help you with nanami by his side.

you thought about it but you won't be accepting any help but haibara shakes his head. “i promise, they won't find out. nanami and me are good at hiding secrets.” the brunette offered you a smile. “but why? you never have a reason to help me, nanami. haibara.” looking at the both of them. nanami kept silent. drinking his can of coffee from the vending machine. “you seem nice.” was haibara's reason to you and you cry harder. tears blurring your vision and haibara panics at your crying expression. “are you kidding me!? nice? nice won't cut it out for you offering me this! helping me!” you cry harder. “i can't do anything for now! a-and i don't have anything for me to offer to both of you!” you sob and haibara softens up. you were like his sister and even though he knows the consequences of what will happen if they were about to find, he does not care. they only recently find out about your situation but he wants to help in any capacity he can do and nanami must surely wants the same.

“we don't want anything from you but your trust, (y/n).” his voice is somewhat sincere and comforting and he was like a big brother from how he is acting towards you. “you can start a new life, away from them.” your tears stops to roll down on your cheeks. “we're your friends and this is what friends do.” haibara said to you and for the first time in your life, you could finally breath.

with nanami and haibara, they helped you transfer hospitals. sooner or later that gojo and geto where about to find where you are. they can't afford to see you cry and be hurt because of them. you were really grateful and somehow was ashamed of it, but nonetheless you wanted to be away, away from what their madness can do to you.

that was the start. nanami and haibara took care of your papers for your transfer to another university. one that they wouldn't suspect of you transferring. far away from a maddening crowd but enough to provide you a good education and a degree that you would find useful later in life.

there wasn't a day where you didn't cry. first when you said goodbye in secret to your parents. simply disappearing in their lives like you didn't exist. promising that you would come back when the time's right and when all dues are paid and the last is when you stand in front of the university's main entrance. a final tear for the memories you desperately wanted to forget and for them. there's only an end to where you tolerated them. it's your time to play now and what makes it right is you're now standing in front of the building as the new employee. a multinational corporation hailing at a time where japan started to be a first world country after the war. the company's name in sleek and in big bold letters glinting in the sunlight.

this would be the start of your life.

TAGLIST. @missakward123 @lupitalove @i00bear @socialanxietyvictim @tourmalxine @labelt-san @ghostlyworld @kashxyou @chiiiiiiiiiiifuuuuuuuu @cute-sucker @skii-high @boyimjustaloserforyourlove @jossayuuu @bubblesandsand1-0 @ply4vnce @witchymermaid12 @luna-v-roiya @mariyumemi @sinfullygay @higurumapet @kvk6433gkcigv @s-j320 @bts-skz @imcreepininyourheartbabe @hazzelle-kento @cashcadaver @n1vi @kiruupon @vebbiewuzhere @its-princessmara @ssetsuka @unicornqueen05 @idkwhattfimdoinghere2 @sunnytyun @tomriddles-wh0re @ya-mamaaaaa @wateriswhatiam @red-writes @saltyladyflower

[luiluvr]

treacherous — luigi mangione

genuinely spent so much time pondering how to write this out, thank you to the anon who sent the request i really love how it turned out :,) also in my head luigi loves taylor swift, hence the ending mwahahaha

WARNINGS: none, fluff, a moment where luigi snaps from stress, f!reader, kinda (not really) proofread

SUMMARY: After being freed from prison, Luigi has plenty to catch up on and he tries his best to reply to letters from supporters, but between keeping up with them in a timely manner, having a new girlfriend and other things he’s trying to do — he snaps at you.

WC: 2.1k

It had been over a year since he walked free. Through thick and thin — it had been endless hours of pondering, worry and prayers to a higher power; unsure if they were even listening. By some miracle, the verdict fell on the courtroom like an angelic tune: “not guilty.” His legal team had spent so much time in understanding every aspect and working through so many kinks that they encountered. But they did it.

It was you he found in the midst of it all, an escape from the hells he suffered through, when he saw you, when he read your letter – he felt like he had found heaven. There was something about you that fascinated and intrigued him. He impacted you equally – the male’s image, what he stood for… Something almost revolutionary that somehow united a split nation. Your heart ached every time something new was revealed about his case, the way he had been treated was diabolical. A disgrace to the country – to the world – to the people.

Strong as a tree he stood, resilient and kind despite his circumstances. Even behind bars – he was such a darling before it all happened. You always believed in his innocence. The mere thought of support made his heart cheerful, even in the strange, various ways people expressed it. He was proud to bring people together.

So, now that he sat in the comfort of his own home, still haunted by the memories of the life he endured inside that prison – he kept a smile on his face and continued to spread positivity, more than happy to keep in contact with those who showed him nothing but love in a time of pain. It was difficult to write back to what seemed like over a thousand different letters, but he kept persistent and worked diligently day in and day out to be sure everyone received a response from him. He was writing a letter back to a mother, to whom he pondered his reply for a few days now. It troubled him more than most letters normally would, considering these types were always heartbreaking. The ways the healthcare system treated families was so dehumanizing. It was a sad reality.

He wasn’t all for the public eye and attention on him, he never was – he appreciated it nonetheless, he would never not be grateful for people caring. It was a rocky process, getting out so many responses. Sometimes he’d get a bit stressed because of it. Today was one of those days, he had a major hand cramp, a slight headache on the left temple and a sudden stump. His fingers trembled, causing a shake through the pen he jotted with; a cramp in his back made him sit up straight forcefully and he glanced out the apartment window – a little break for his eyes.

When sense finally sunk back in and he focused on the paper, you had walked back in from running a few errands. Luigi had been so indulged in keeping up with his replies for weeks. It became a little annoying for you, not necessarily because you needed his attention – okay maybe you did; but all he did lately was write. Day in, day out. He tried not to overwhelm himself with anything else so it didn’t disturb his thought process while reading then replying to letters. Perhaps tonight you would cook something for him, and he could take a break to talk with you. His routine was just: wake up, clean up, read through letters, have lunch around noon, then he’d start responding to all of those letters he spent reading during the morning. He’d grab a snack for dinner or order out for you both, and still be writing.

Sure, his dedication was endearing, however it could be too much on you. It felt like your partner had just become another person in the house rather than what he was before he decided: “I think I’ll start replying to all of those letters.” 

“Hey Lu,” you said softly as you hung your keys on the hook by the door, kicked off your shoes and sat your bag on the couch. He doesn’t reply, just hums something as he writes. You sighed and carried the bag of groceries to the kitchen, then sat them on the counter. “I’m cooking dinner tonight, so we can sit together and eat. Maybe you can tell me about your letters?” You smile, placing some refrigerated things in their place; and all you’re met with is a nod from the back of his head. Shaking your own, you slowly pad off to the bedroom. You had been ready to shower since you got up, while you were out, you went to the gym. 

After, you winded down. Drying your hair carefully, applying skincare and dressing comfortably. Maybe an hour went by – you weren’t entirely sure. You stand, sliding into your fuzzy slippers and emerging from the bedroom, no surprise that Luigi’s still sitting there silently. “Hey, I’m gonna start cooking now, I know it’s a little early but I was thinking we could have a movie night.” 

No response … You continue on with what you please. 

He was hyper-focused on making the best response, and all he heard was the nose you were making. Clanking a pot or two, rustling food packages, popping oils, every sound sinking into his ear drums and driving him nuts. Accidentally, you dropped some tomatoes, they were just the small cherry ones. “Shit,” you muttered, they rolled around and scattered. Luigi rubs his temple. When dinner was finished, you were so content with it, you glanced over at Lu. “I’m done with supper, are you ready to eat?” ...  “Luigi.”

Silence. “Babe.”

Nothing. Again. “Luigi,” You call, and he turns, staring at you. He then rises up, comes over and picks up the plate you were holding for him. “Mhm.” He hums and walks back off to the desk. Like getting a toddler’s attention – the casual span of a gnat of course, Luigi plops back down in his chair and eats while reading another letter. You dine alone at the table, quietly. The only sound to flow throughout the room is the gentle scrape of the silverware on the plate, or small swallow. You offer Luigi seconds, but he denies. So, you take his plate and begin cleaning up – normally he would assist with that, or do it himself if you cooked; alas, tonight he wouldn’t.

Your hands are rushed over by warm, soapy water as you scrub the plates, the silverware, the pan and pot you used. Then carefully wiped down the stove, the countertops and the table despite you being the only one who sat there tonight. You were able to sit down, just let out relief knowing that was all set and done – in the corner was Lu, writing again. After dinner you guys would relax on the couch and watch a series or movie together, soak in life. He was able to enjoy breathing freely again when he’d sink into the cushions and throw pillows – wrap his strong arm around your side as you lay your head on his broad chest, your serotonin bursting out as you burrow in his embrace.

It's the opposite, you don’t lean into anyone, no extra warmth, no company, just you, the couch and the black TV screen you hadn’t turned on yet. You wanted to wait, perhaps he’d change his mind tonight, he’ll set everything aside and come to you. Tuck himself behind your body as he cradles you into his side, cover both his and your legs with a fuzzy blanket, pet your hair until you eventually fall asleep right there so he’ll carry you to bed.

Not tonight.

You take yourself back to bed after TV time – if you even consider it that. The TV stayed on mute as to not disturb your boyfriend’s intense writing session in the corner of the apartment. It only bothered you somewhat. 

What finally tipped the iceberg was waking up at 2 AM and finding the illuminating light from a small lamp on his desk still on. His eyelids droopy, his pen hovers over the page hesitantly, shaking ever so slightly. Luigi was one blink away from passing out.

“Lu, come to bed will you?” Your voice replies gently – there’s no visible reaction from the male. “Luigi,” you repeated. He draws in a breath, sitting up, his back cracks quietly, causing his face to contort in a reflection of mild discomfort. Being hunched over the desk all day is equally worse to being hung over a laptop or phone all day. Which he normally was against doing to himself. He cut a connection with electronics at a certain point in his life, and he swore it was one of the greatest things he did to help his mental and physical health. Now here he is, sleep deprived and ruining his posture simultaneously 

“Please come to bed, you look so exhausted.” 

He tilts his head and continues to write (what you’re assuming is) a new letter. You just missed him, you wanted to cuddle to sleep and know he was there in the bed by you as you close your eyes and let peace swallow you whole. Your heart aches to be without him – even if he is there. You love him too much. 

“Luigi, babe–” “Oh my god, don’t you see that I’m trying to write these letters?! Just shut up for five seconds, I’ll go to bed when I’m ready!” He snaps at you, the tiredness is clear as day on his face. Normally his skin is a gentle tan, slowly losing its color – going pale again. HIs eye bags were saddening and as you stared in disbelief that he snapped at you like that. It’s truly painful to you. You understood he was busy, overly stressed trying to respond to more letters than possible every day. He needed to slow down though. He was driving himself crazy by not sleeping enough and not socially interacting only through letters.

He sat silent after his little snap, he sighs as immediate guilt crept over him and he looked at your expression. Never used to that, he never gets angry or upset with you, he always talks it out slowly, genuinely, lovingly. He had no idea what came over him, but now – staring at you – his beautiful, tender-loving girlfriend who he probably just startled by yelling at – was eyes-wide and arms folded. 

“Baby, I’m so, so sorry – I didn’t mean…” His apology is delayed when you walk off to the bedroom. He rubs his aching face, then combs his fingers through his curls and stands – finally. After hours. He swallows a lump in his throat as he makes his way back to your shared room and leans against the doorframe. “Look, baby…”

“I don’t want to talk to you, Lu.” Your voice is muffled by the way you lay against the pillow – facing away from the door. “Look – I didn’t mean to snap at you okay? I’m really stressed right now… That’s not an excuse though, I should never yell at you, bellissima.” He murmurs, sitting beside your feet at the edge of the bed, his weight sinks the mattress awkwardly. His hand reaches out, lanky fingers wrap around your leg and he gives it a squeeze through the fabric of your pajama pants. When you don’t respond, he clenches his jaw, he has no idea what to do other than to give you attention. He should’ve done it before, never ignored you, he felt horrible.

“I’m so, so sorry princess.” He whispers, crawling up on the bed behind you. He snaked his arms around your waist, his breath heats the side of your neck as he begins peppering kisses right there. All he knew was he wasn’t letting either of you go to bed until you were happy again. He squishes your back against his front. “Dolcezza,” he sighs, “Please talk to me.”

You shake your head slowly, he kisses your jawline. “You’re my princess,” his breath tickles your skin. “I’m gonna make time for you, I shouldn’t prioritize anything else in the world over you, my love. Even cheesy letters.” He says, you turn onto your back and he immediately grins, the corners of his lips turn up, his cheeks blush every time he sees that pretty face of yours. He inches towards you, resting his chin in the valley between your breasts, harmlessly.

He flaps and flutters his big hazel eyes, those flawless lashes – like a new puppy. “Oh fine, you big baby.” You smile, but his smile’s brighter. He leans up and plants his plump rosy lips against yours. “So treacherous.” His eyes meet yours again.

You squint and raise a brow, “Was that a Taylor Swift reference?”

“Maybe.”

“You actually like Taylor Swift!”

“All too well.” He says cheekily.

[burningcheese-merchant]

I’d like to imagine a silentlily (silent salt x white lily) scenario (yan)

Imagine salt’s reaction to her being in a coffin again

Then her walking up

(I starve for silent lily)

Hehe

"White as Snow" - SilentLily Short Story

PAUSE: This is Yandere Silent Salt. He's a knight, he's in shining armor, but he's nobody's hero. He belongs in a cell. Or in a ditch. Or in Hell (which is both of those put together, arguably). Whatever serves White Lily better. She annoys the fuck out of me, but not even she deserves this shit

ALSO: Canon divergence here. The Beasts escape and reenter the world before White Lily wakes up, and before Pure Vanilla and the others go to Beast-Yeast

ALSO ALSO: I wanted to try to play along with a certain concept this time, which may have involved me ascribing a trait I myself possess in the real world to Silent Salt here haha. Wonder if you'll notice what it is

Silent Salt considered his sense of hearing to be more of a curse than a blessing, more often than not. Noise irritated him. Any noise. All noise. He hated it then and he hated it now. Pure, unceasing contempt.

The shrill crunch of broken glass beneath his armored boots. The blaring of those godforsaken alarms that hammered away at his helm, at his skull. The squealing of those brittle-boned creatures in white coats as they scurried about, trying to find help. Trying to stop him. The sound of flesh being stripped from bone and falling to the earth. The wet gurgle of cries for mercy dying on bloodied tongues and slipping through slit throats. The hard knock against cold metal coupled with the squelching of blood and viscera that came with each heavy footstep - away from his broken container, through the laboratory, through the main doorway. He hated it. He hated them all.

But he endured it, with whatever semblance of grace he could muster. He had always been a wanderer, in both senses of the word - allowing his mind to leave his body and find joy and solace elsewhere, while his body carried on in another direction. It was his only defense against the world and all of its cruelties. Here and now proved to be no exception.

The voices in his head saved him from the noises outside. The first - the only, most of the time - was hers. His White Lily's. Soft, sweet, melodic. Like the coo of a waking fledgling at the break of dawn. It didn't made his ears ache, quite the opposite. It... calmed him. Soothed his frayed nerves, like nothing ever did before and likely never shall again. He had long forgotten peace until he discovered her, through their new, ironclad bond through the Soul Jam. Her image. Her spirit. Her voice. Peace. Tranquility. Freedom.

The second - and this one was new - was... strange. An echo of a bygone era, risen from the depths of his memory unbidden. An... older person, he thinks. Older than he'd been at the time, at least. The voice was worn. Rough. But still warm and inviting, in its own way. Like a quilt that had seen better days, offering you a tattered embrace.

That voice told him a story. Over and over again, as many times as he asked (he thinks it might have been his favorite once). One about a beautiful princess, sealed away by an evil witch and cursed to sleep for eternity. A valiant knight, vowing to rescue her, marched across the world, slaying the monsters in his path and braving every danger without rest until he reached her. He broke the seal, he took his beloved into his arms. With true love's kiss, she woke, and so they lived happily ever after.

No longer was it only a story. The Soul Jam granted him sight beyond sight, even with half of it gone; it being in his lily's possession only enabled him to keep a watchful eye on her, even so far apart. The day she fell to the curse was the worst of both their lives: falling into a cauldron, transformed by black magic, consumed by the newfound horror of reality and hatred she felt for the world and all of its cruelties. Her very being split in two: her soul, once pure and now dark and twisted, unleashing itself upon the world, and her body - a husk - left behind. Abandoned. She wandered the world in two different directions. She existed in two places at once.

Just like he did.

No one was there when he fell. He found no light at the end of the tunnel, in that pitch-black labyrinth he lost himself in. It mattered nothing now; in time, he came to realize that the darkness suited him better, anyway. But he wouldn't allow the same to happen to her. He shall be there by her side, when no one else had been. He will save her.

She was his princess. He was her knight. What the second voice told him was no story - it was a prophecy. He understood it now. And it shall be fulfilled, with nothing and no one to stand in their way.

Silent Salt's hearing somehow sharpened during his time in prison, it would seem. Even the smallest sounds burrowed beneath his skin and pulled at his nerves now. Leaves rustling in the wind. Grass flattening as he made his way through the forests and meadows. Water droplets splashing onto his armor as he waded across a river. The beauty of nature... no such thing. There never was. The only beauty to be found in this world was within his White Lily. The story foretold such. And it was it, and his lily's sight and sound, that blanketed his soul and guided him on his path through Beast-Yeast. To that land bathed in silver. To that tree he so despised. To her. To them. To their destiny.

More noise, when he reached Faeriewood. More alarms. More yelling. Blades and bows being drawn - a slightly more entertaining detour from the defenseless squirming of those lemmings in their hideous coats and gloves, if nothing else. He hated it.

The clash and clang of his sword against theirs. Beautiful, grand structures collapsing in the wake of his rampage. Swarms of silver locusts, buzzing towards him in righteous indignation. Screams of agony as he cut them all to pieces. As he laid waste to their homes, their businesses, everything they ever built and loved. As he rended flesh from bone and ground the bone to dust. As those delicate little butterfly wings of theirs tore to pitiful shreds.

He hated it. Hated all the noise.

It was what they deserved.

The voices grew louder as he drew nearer to where he needed to be.

His dear lily, soft and sweet, mending the ever-bleeding tear in his soul. Beautiful princess, calling to her valiant knight.

That shadow, that phantom with no body and no face, comforting him with promises about the future. Wizened oracle, reminding him of his purpose.

That terrible image of his lily falling. Changing. Suffering. No more of that. Not in his mind, not behind his eyelids. Not to her. He will save her.

The last faerie left standing was quieter than the rest. Tall, regal, sword brandished with steel-eyed determination. He hardly spoke a word to Silent Salt, before their battle and during. He made his thoughts and feelings known only through the sound of his great, ethereal wings flapping, and his blade parrying and counter-striking Silent Salt's own, and his long, lavender hair whipping around in the frenzy.

But silence is gold, not silver. And this faerie he knew to be king learned this truth the hard way.

Against his better judgment, Silent Salt let him go. Left him slumped against that accursed tree, gasping for air and clutching at his wounds. His body nailed to that dry bark would have been a more welcome end to their particular tale, but... his dear lily cared for him. Silent Salt knew this. His blood boiled whenever he saw them together in the past - if only the Soul Jam allowed him greater contact than just watching through a one-way mirror - but it was fine. He loved White Lily more than he hated her compatriots. Faeriewood being sliced into silver ribbons would be enough to take in already; the sight of her friend all but crucified would be unfair to have her endure. The faerie king was vanquished; that was all that mattered for the time being. When White Lily woke, he would allow her to decide what was to be done about him. A gift from her valiant, adoring knight.

It was quiet as death when he finally found the coffin, laying so perfectly against the humble willow looming over it. Crystal clear glass. Intricate carvings, coiling around the head and foot and snaking along the sides. In the tree's trunk was the engraved image of the Light of Freedom, and words in what he knew to be faerie language.

His White Lily, his princess, under a terrible curse. Sleeping soundly in her tomb. Lost and imprisoned, just as he once was.

He took enough care to not tear off the lid too forcefully. The sound it made as it hit the ground was grating enough already. And he wouldn't dare let any glass break, at risk of it falling on her.

His hands trembled as he reached for her, letting one rest on her shoulder - so much so that he could hear the rattle of his gauntlet.

He grabbed her face, caressed her cheeks, as gently as he possibly could. Perhaps some foolish part of him hoped the shock of metal against her skin would wake her - if only so he could see her open her beautiful eyes sooner. But alas.

He could hear her breathing. Slow, steady. Soft, sweet, melodic. That gentle rhythm flowing from her ever-so-slightly parted lips, that rise and fall of her chest that reassured him that she still lived.

He admired her, for just a moment longer - her lovely figure, her flawless skin, her hair, white as snow and framing her face so beautifully - before he brought one hand back to his helm. Slowly, hand still trembling, he pulled it off. It fell to the ground with a thud. The only other noise he would tolerate.

Back to her cheek his hand went. Holding her face so tenderly, he leaned down and let his eyes flutter shut.

Destiny had finally arrived. The knight has come to save the princess. The monsters that kept them apart were now slain, left scattered across the blood-soaked earth. He would take her into his arms. He would give her true love's kiss. With it - with the strength of their bond, and with the beating of his heart - she would finally wake. Her curse would be broken.

And they could be together at last...

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

Do you think he really managed to wake her...?

[repulsiveliquidation]

Choice || Leah Williamson

warnings : this is dark angst. there are mentions of sickness as well as reader death. please do not read if you are not comfortable.

a/n : the first 200 words of this came from 5 minutes on Squibler. There was no prompt, just me and my brain for five minutes where I could not stop typing or else it would delete it all. I finished it up and here it is. there is a line in there and it's above too that is near and dear to my heart. it's short but i hope those of you who read it enjoy.

Leah sighed walking into the bedroom. She watched as your chest rose and fell, the mug of piping hot coffee shaking in her hands. You looked so peaceful, yet so fragile.

How could someone so perfect be so sick? 

When she first met you, she didn't think you would be gone 6 years later. She loved you with all her heart. If there was something you wanted, Leah would fight hand and foot to get it for you. She promised to love you through sickness and in death, yet here she was, watching you waste away. They were supposed to be vows, not her reality.

There was no cure. 

There was no way to save the love of her life. 

"Honey?" 

"Hm?" 

"It's time to wake up, baby." 

"What time is it?" 

"Just after 8." 

You sit up, struggling to push yourself upright; Leah helps. 

"Is that coffee I smell?" you mutter, voice hoarse. 

"Yes ma'am,” Leah answered, trying not to burst into tears. 

You were in pain. Lots of it. 

There was pain everywhere. You couldn't remember the last time you woke up without it. 

She was hesitant to touch you, afraid that you'd break. You were skin and bones. 

There was nothing she could do and it was breaking her heart. 

Was this fair? No. 

Was this something she wished on herself? Every damn day. 

There was no cure, remember? Leah remembered.

There was one option though. One that you were adamant you would not choose or consider.

You would never forgive yourself if you went through with it. You couldn’t ask someone to do that for you; you weren’t worth all that. 

Leah knew she could fix it all. The one way available to save you was a sacrifice she was willing to make. Where there was love, there was pain. 

This was pain Leah was willing to endure. For love. For you. She’d give up her life if it meant you lived. 

You told doctors there was no way in hell you would let your wife do that. But the choice was not up to you. It was hers to make.

“Baby, I’ll get myself tested!” 

“No Leah, I can’t let you do that!” 

“But what if I’m a match?” Leah argued, face turning red with frustration and anger. Why were you being so stubborn? She could potentially save you! This was the easiest decision of her life! 

“No!”

“Baby, please! If I’m a match we can fix this!” 

“I forbid you to do it.” 

“Why are you being so fucking difficult right now?” 

“Because I don’t want you to live with the guilt of knowing you could have saved me!” 

The room goes silent and you can’t hold the tears back anymore. Leah takes a step back and stares at you, while your eyes blur and the tears stain your hospital gown. 

“Please Leah, just let me die.”

“No.” 

“Leah, I can’t take it anymore. I can’t do this-” you say, gesturing to the sterile room you sat in, “anymore! I don’t want to suffer Leah, please,” you beg, reaching for her hand. It was cold. 

“I want you to live out your life free, not stuck taking care of me.” 

“What if that’s all I want to do with my life, huh? Take care of you?” 

“I can’t let you do that Leah,” you whisper. “I can’t make you throw your life away for me.” 

“That is not a decision for you to make.” 

“Well, I’ve made it.” 

“What?” 

“They’re taking me to a facility.” 

“What for?” Leah asks, already knowing the answer. 

“To help me die.” 

Leah stands right in front of your grave, a bouquet of your favorite flowers in her hands. She smells them and smiles; everytime she smelt them her heart thought of you. 

“Hi baby,” Leah starts, kneeling by you. “Happy Anniversary. Rocky’s in the car, waiting for me. I think I’ll take him to get a pup cup,” she chuckles, “and yeah I knew you secretly took him for one every time you came to visit the locker rooms before game day.” 

Leah places the flowers in the little vase by your headstone. 

“I miss you. I know it’s been a year but,” she wipes a tear, “I can’t bear the thought of letting you go. You were the love of my life.” Leah stands, hands back in her trench coat pockets. 

“The part of my life where I had you will always be my favorite,” she whispers, walking away. 

She gets back into her car and Rocky is wiggling his bum excitedly. She turns the ignition and pulls her seatbelt on, looking back at you in her rearview mirror. 

“I love you.” 

“I love you too, Leah.”

[bellesdreamyprofile]

You're Still The One - Major Gale Cleven

summary: it was always the three of you: buck, bucky and you. what if buck wanted something more than that? what if he gained the courage to finally ask you out before one of last missions? - 1.3k words

Bucky drank from his flask, eyes gazing up the full moon. You followed his eye-line, absolutely in awe of the clear sky and the moon in perfect sight. Buck watched you watch the moon with Bucky, his friend occasionally making funny remarks to lighten the tension. But today was a good day — no dead men, just big celebrations and Buck was gonna hold onto that feeling.

He breathed in, your perfume becoming his new form of oxygen he couldn't go without. His eyes gently shut, absorbing every little bit of calmness he could, making sure it was going to be bottled up as a memory in his brain somewhere. Then he opened his eyes again, deciding to enjoy the bits of reality that were left with you. Buck's blue eyes slowly traced the soft line of your jaw and just like you were in awe of the moon, he was in awe of you.

Gale dreamt with his eyes wide open. Whenever his gaze shifted on you, he saw it all. He saw you both in a little cottage, living far away from everything and everybody, because all you truly needed was each other. He'd get you a dog, since that was all you seemed to talk about as Meatball became part of the team. He'd build you the kitchen of your dreams, so you could bake everything your heart wished for — hell, he'd probably build you a house from zero. You just needed to say it — anything, so he knew your heart was in the same boat as his.

"Oh, there he is!", your voice took him back, he glanced your way and noticed that Meatball had found you three. The dog found his way to you, immediately engulfing you with his body and kisses. Buck couldn't help but feel jealous, even just for a little bit.

"And that's my cue to leave—", Bucky stood up, his posture wavering a little. He motioned the flask to you, but you shook your head. "Alright, I'll keep it for me then.", the Major mockingly saluted you and started slowly walking away.

"Bucky!", Gale called over his shoulder, causing the brunette to stumble and turn around. "Need help getting back?", Bucky shook his head and kept on moving, totally absorbed by the darkness.

Meatball relaxed on your lap and by the way his breathing had slowed, you could guess he was asleep. "I don't know if I'll have the heart to wake him up later.", you said, eyes darting between the dog and the Major.

Gale laughed softly and slowly brought his hand to Meatball's head.

"You might have to carry him back.", your tone was tinged with playfulness as a cheeky smile curled on your lips. Buck felt his cheeks redden, but paid no mind, clearing his throat.

"I thought that the physical training was for endurance during emergencies and whatnot.", he started saying. "But maybe this is what I was truly training for.", Gale motioned to Meatball with a small smile on his face. You chuckled, your head shaking at the funny remark.

"Maybe — but definitely.", comfortable silence engulfed you both after your words. The moment felt oddly intimate with you sitting so close together and the moon putting on a show for you. He was just Major Cleven, you reminded your racing heart. But he wasn't any Major, he was everything that all those pilots weren't. 

There was no one as caring as him — it didn't matter how many times pilots spilled their coffee around you, Gale always seemed to be around to help you clean up. He was the one that introduced you to the big ball of fluff that was Meatball. He was the one that immediately visited you in the hospital wing after his missions, claiming he just wanted to see you. And then Bucky would find you both and suddenly it wasn't just the two of you anymore — it was you, Buck and Bucky. Not that you didn't appreciate Bucky and his uplifting personality, but you felt like you didn't have enough time with Buck. You wanted to get to know him in a different way. Would that way hurt, though? When he'd inevitably be taken away from you? Would keeping the distance spare you from getting your heart broken?

"I'm flying tomorrow.", Buck said, finally breaking the silence. You hummed, turning to look his way.

"Really?", he nodded. "And I'm assuming Bucky isn't, since he was drinking and all."

Buck nodded yet again, a soft breath leaving his lips. "Yeah, he's flying in two days I think."

"What do you miss most when you're in the air? Or what do you think about when you're up there?", your interest took him by surprise, but he chuckled a little.

"Uhm, I think mostly about the mission.", he said swiftly, making you mockingly gasp in surprise. "Yeah, right, who would've thought?", his hand found the back of his neck and scratched it. "I miss a lot of things when I'm in the air.", Gale decided to finally say.

Your curiosity was piqued. "Like what?"

Gale's breath hitched in his throat, thinking of the immediate answer he wanted to say. His eyes found yours with ease and the two colors melted together into one unique sea of emotion. What did he have to lose? Tomorrow he could lose everything, but tonight belonged to the two of you.

"You.", the word fell from his lips like a breath he'd been holding back for too long. Your eyes froze in his, but the emotion was still there, intact.

"Me.", you repeated, your word a whisper in the chilly air.

Gale gulped. "Who else would I think about?", his hushed tone matched yours, although shaky and unsure. "You're everything I think about. All day, everyday.", that was the most the Major had talked to anyone and the words were never so deep and meaningful.

"You're the reason I come back every time."

You were officially stunned by his honesty, your eyes were already brimming with salty tears. Maybe it was the wind, maybe it was the emotion tinged in his deep voice, maybe it was the fact he was leaving tomorrow. You decided to put the blame on the wind.

"Every time I hear a plane approaching, I look outside of the window.", you confessed, lowering your gaze. "And it's you, every single time.", you gently brushed Meatball's fur, the motion helping with the crazy speed of your heart.

"I don't want to look out of the window and not find you there, Gale.", his name coming from your lips was like an aphrodisiac, so foreign and so addicting.

His hand instinctively found yours, hesitantly grasping it. "You're the one I come back to.", he said firmly, his words hinting to a promise.

You nodded, pressing your lips into a thin line. "I'll always look for you. Always.", your words were shaky and broken, Gale didn't hesitate to pull you in a hug. His eyes shut at the sudden emotion, almost in disbelief that the moment between you two was real.

"Can I kiss you?", he asked once he pulled away. A breathless laugh fell from your lips as you nodded swiftly.

"Yes, please.", his soft, plush lips were pressed to yours and that was probably what heaven felt like. Free, gentle and warm. The three adjectives resembling the great man that Gale Cleven was.

Your hand pressed to his cheek, feeling a little rough under your fingertips. Still woozy from the kiss, you smiled — similar to a smile the Major had seen on his drunk friend, Bucky.

Gale's forehead gently fell on yours. "I'll come back.", the back of his hand brushed against your cheek. Your lips twitched into a minuscule smile and your eyes were forced shut as you pulled him in for yet another breathless kiss.

That wasn't the start of anything, for your story had started a long time ago. That was the continuation of what had begun a long time ago and your lips on his were the confirmation of that.

A/N: I love gale so much 💋 let me know what you thought! the next on the bff series is elvis ⚡️🤍 I´ll see you in the next one

MASTERLIST buck cleven masterlist

austin 2025 digital calendar 🎀 austin phone case💋

[georgiapeach30513]

With Your Touch, Part 6

Summary: Lloyd and you have to establish clear boundaries

Pairings: Lloyd Hansen X Reader

Rating: mature

Warnings:  explicit language, D/s dynamics, mentions of abuse, misogyny, detailed ways Lloyd wants to murder The Verb, Lyla Bee 🥺, 18+ ONLY

Word Count: 5K

Previous

Series Masterlist

Lloyd blows a soft breath of air over your face, and you remain asleep. Holding onto Lyla, while he clings to you both. It didn’t take long after the too serious conversation for you to nearly pass out from exhaustion, and he just holds you. His eyes move between you and Lyla, and he wonders how he ever got here. Gulping because you’ve ruined him.

He’s no longer the man that he used to be; careless, cocky, arrogant, snide, brutal, and so many other things. He’s Lloyd. He’s daddy. He’s heard you working with Lyla trying to get her to say that one word. When in reality he wishes that you would start teaching her another word. Mama.

It’s a title that you do deserve. More than he even deserves the name daddy. You spend nonstop time with her. Enjoy her. Take care of her like she is your own. And you are happy doing it. The way the two of you are curled into one another, he doesn’t have to question it. This is a mother’s love. A mother’s touch. She’s yours. And in that process of becoming a mother, you’re healing yourself of the deeply embedded wounds of your raising.

He doesn’t doubt you’ll continue to give Lyla the love and care that she deserves, but now it’s his job to make sure you have the love and care that you deserve. If you are to be giving yourself freely to him and Lyla, he has to reciprocate. He has to make changes. Tonight was too close. You could have been hurt more than you were. And you were hurt enough, and because of your upbringing, you just accept that men should be allowed to walk all over you, and use you to their every whim.

You’re to be seen not heard, and some big bad man will give you enough money for you to keep your mouth shut. Acting like money was worth it for the hell that you’re enduring. He doesn’t want you to think that what Chase did to you was okay, or that you deserved it because he was your boyfriend. That just makes it all the more worse. He was supposed to protect you. Lloyd will give you all the time that you need to process that, and he will be waiting. He’s never been more sure about something in his life. He wants you, and your worth the patience he has to have.

“Lloyd,” Ari says at the door of Lyla’s room. Lloyd rolls his eyes up to meet Ari’s, and he watches his partner sigh. It didn’t take a genius to know that Lloyd’s obsession has slowly turned into love. “He’s on his way to the warehouse,” Lloyd nods. He’ll deal with Chase slowly later.

“You guys need sleep,” Lloyd gives him a head nod, keeping his eyes on you. You and Lyla are keeping him grounded when his body is raging with the need to seek revenge. “Lloyd.”

“You’re going to wake her up. You…”

“Shh, her room is clean, and new sheets, but I think she and Lyla would sleep better in your bedroom,” he finally meets Ari’s eyes. “Yes. Not that you need my permission, but take them in your room. We need to talk,” Ari retreats quickly. He never is one to linger. He’s right. Lloyd shouldn’t hold the two of you all night, but he would.

He stands slowly, and only Lyla stirs. Her chubby cheeks smoosh more into your body, making her more adorable from her comfort being close to you. He doesn’t know how he’s going to get the baby out of the tangle of your arms without waking you, but he’ll stay there and wait for you to drift off again.

He treats your body like you’re the most delicate porcelain as he carries the two of you into his bedroom. Your body is so spent you only hum as he lays you down. Trying to untangle your arms around Lyla, and he lays her down right beside you. In the place that would be in between him and you. If he planned on sleeping tonight.

His heart feels as empty as his arms when he walks down the hall and into the living room. Staring at Ari who is distracted by something on the table, “What do you want me to do?”

“We’re not staying here,” Ari gives a nod. “I’m going to take some time off,” Ari nods again. “And I want that little prick kept alive. I need him mended, so I can torture that stye painfully slow. I want to rip his entrails out with my bare hands, and I want him to watch me finger knit with it.”

“You’re very graphic. But I don’t think you know how to knit of any kind,” Lloyd would find out. He wants the putrid stench to fade from life, knowing Lloyd Hansen took that last breath from him.

“I’ll figure it out on my time off. What more is there to discuss?”

Ari’s fingers drum on the table, contemplating how he’s going to talk to Lloyd about this. He’s a sensitive soul. Becoming more sensitive when it comes to ‘his girls’. “You’re falling,” Lloyd doesn’t respond. He doesn’t have to explain himself to Ari. The only one he will discuss his feelings with is asleep.

“I’ve seen it for a while. But tonight — Lloyd, you’re in fucking deep. Chase isn’t your enemy, and you battered his face,” not his enemy? Chase defiled you. That Verb deserved more pain than he felt tonight.

“What was I supposed to do? He was,” Lloyd’s face turns from anger to deep seeded agony. The veins in his arms ripple thinking about your pitiful cries. And that man antagonizing you. Demanding you, and you wailed. Your cries will haunt him, but the pain he made you suffer is unforgivable. “You didn’t hear her.”

“That’s not what I’m saying, and you know.”

“Then fucking say it.”

“You don’t like to get bloody. You wanted to feel his pain,” Lloyd starts to shake his head, but Ari raises a gun. “You could have shot him. Admit to me that you love the girl.”

“I don’t have to admit shit,” Ari smirks. Starting to lean back on the couch. “And even if I did, what does it fucking matter?”

“Why do you want to kill her father?” That is a bit more complicated. He didn’t see Roman physically harm you, but he knew he hurt you just by your actions alone.

“He tried killing her spirit. It seems fair. Is there a problem here?” Ari smiles, shaking his head no. “I feel you have something to say, and if you do, say it.”

“I have. You denied it. Lloyd, I hope you know what you’re doing. You’re making it a dangerous world for these two girls. They will need security detail. Or you’re going to have to scale back. I need you to know, I’ve got your back. That’s all. I’m not here to tease you, I just want you to admit to yourself how much that woman is sinking into your soul,” Lloyd breathes in deeply. Giving a nod to his friend as he turns to go down the hallway and back to his girls.

“And Lloyd. Take a bath. She’ll thank you for it. I had someone scrub the security footage. Nobody knows that the foul stench of an abscess tooth was here. That girl has been through a lot because of Roman. Maybe try talking to her about those experiences and how you can be different.”

“Are you giving me advice?”

“Yep,” Ari pops the p as he goes to stand up. “She wants to take care of you, too, buddy. She’s a good one. Don’t fuck it up.”

Lloyd watches as his most trusted friend leaves the apartment, and he collects himself, running his palm down the front of his face. He has no idea what he’s doing. He just knows that he wants to do it, and be with you. That’s all that mattered to him. Not the difficulty that could come with being with you. He’d make it work. He was already waiting on the final piece of the puzzle to make sure Lyla would be nowhere, but with him. And you.

You jump up in bed. Wiping off your arms, and face. Feeling him all over you. The creep’s smell was all over your skin, and you had to get him off. And then the panic. You weren’t in your room. You’re alone. “Lloyd! Lloyd!”

Smoke seeps beneath a door, and you know you’re dreaming. Looking down to your side, a sleepy Lyla whines, wiping at her eyes. “What are you doing? Lloyd!” You scream again, picking her up, you hold her close to you. Your skin crawls, and your chest tightens. You couldn’t breathe.

“L-L-Lloyd,” it sounds strangled as tears fall down your face. Feeling like the walls are caving in. You want to rock in place, but if that was smoke, then there’s fire. And you have to get out. “Lloyd!”

The door opens up, and Lloyd in just a towel has his eyes searching around the room. It wasn’t smoke. “Sweetheart,” he rushes over to your side, and pulls you and Lyla into his wet chest. “Are you okay?”

“Where,” you begin, and gulp. You try to calm yourself, and focus on his breathing. Lyla giggling a bit helps. Not to mention the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, “Where am I?”

“My bedroom. Is everything okay?”

“Yeah. What…tonight wasn’t a nightmare?” Lloyd whispers no, and rubs a hand down your cheek. His grip never tightens, and your cheek is damp from the beads of water on his titties, and your tears. “I need to shower,” Lloyd reaches for Lyla, and she quickly looks up at you. Leaning into your body like a hug, not wanting to be away from you. “Can daddy hold you? I’ll…Lloyd can you sit in there with me?”

It’s nothing sexual, just the need to not be alone. “Yeah. Lyla, come on, baby. Let’s let Dolly take a quick shower. And we’re going to keep her safe and cozy. You want to wear one of my shirts?” You give him a nod and a smile. Words are a bit difficult now. Scooting to the edge of the bed, you give Lyla a kiss on her head before walking into the bathroom with the door open and you remove your clothes.

It doesn’t occur to you to close the door because that will create a barrier between you, and you don’t want that; fear it even. You don’t turn to see if Lloyd is watching, again, it’s not sexual. It just feels right.

Lloyd softly sings to Lyla while he sits on the edge of the sink, and you shower. His bathroom is so much nicer than yours. Shower heads in every direction and you let the water and soap wash the night down the drain. Breathing in the steam, and using his lullabies as a way to set you at ease.

“Did you kill him?”

Lloyd waits too long to respond, so you assume he did, but just doesn’t want to tell you. You aren’t new to death, “Do you want me to answer truthfully?”

“I’d prefer that,” closing your eyes, you stand in the warmth. Turning the water up as high as you can stand, you let the heat sanitize you from Chase’s touch, and your skin prickles and burns with the flowing fire.

“No, I didn’t,” his voice is so flat. “Why are you asking?”

“Do you plan on killing him?”

“Yes. Are you wanting me to spare him?” You peek around the edge of the shower. Your eyes lock in on his, and shake your head no. “I would if you wanted me to.”

Him saying that means more than you thought it would. You turn the water off, stepping right into his line of vision, and he fails to keep his eyes on yours. Instead his sight is roaming all over your dripping body. “I want you to do what’s necessary. One time when I was a child I begged my father to spare a man. He obliged. A week later we were thanked with a threat and the head of my mother’s cat. I won’t ask that of anyone ever again.”

He licks his lips as you grab a towel and begin to dry yourself off. Lyla already asleep again, but his hungry eyes can’t stop fucking you. It’s sick with the conversation at hand, but you love it. Love that he can boldly ogle you with no shame or care. And still not touch you. “The Verb isn’t a threat to me past a good beating. He’s not an enemy to my organization. But he is an enemy of mine, and he will pay for his sins against you.”

“I trust you,” you answer, leaving too many buttons undone as you walk in front of him. “You do what you need to. What you feel is the most satisfying and best.”

“Don’t tempt me,” his eyes are hard as he stares at your hardened nipples peaking up through his shirt. The ribbons of water wettening the material, and leaving little to the imagination.

“Don’t tempt you with my body or my approval of carrying out Chase’s punishment?” He smirks as his eyes linger at your chest. His desire to rip the shirt open, and attach his mouth to your tit blinding him. You purposefully didn’t fully dry yourself off. Letting the material mold to your curves. “Lloyd?”

“Either,” he gives a final look down your chest before he meets your eyes, “You’ve been tempting me the moment you walked into my life. And if it wasn’t for what that fucker did tonight, I would really be struggling to contain myself. If you want attention, ask. You don’t have to be a tease.”

You take a slow calculated breath. Your own eyes drifting down his toned impeccable body. Each cord of muscle is tightened as he tries to contain his need to pounce on you and claim you. The way he cradles Lyla with a delicate touch, makes him so much more sexy, “Will you — hold me tonight?”

He smirks. Extending the baby towards you. “I’m going to get her bassinet. That way I can hold you all night long,” you whimper at the thought. Nothing could make you feel more secure than his arms.

“Can you put her on my side of the bed?”

“Of course,” he bows as he walks out of the bathroom. Traveling the short distance to her room, you gaze down at her perfectly smooth skin. She’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen. It seems silly, but the times you’ve imagined her being yours, and calling you mama are far too many. You love her. It didn't matter how much you wanted her to be yours, she couldn’t be. She had a mother elsewhere.

“Alright. I’m going to roll this here. You go ahead and put the Lyla Bee there, and we can snuggle,” with a lingering kiss to her head, you lay her into the bassinet. You get into the bed first, and place a hand on hers. Needing to feel her steady breathing, and you look over your shoulder as Lloyd lifts up the plush blankets. His boxers sit low on his waist. So low you see the sprinkling of hair right above his cock, and you wish he would just be nude.

He slides into the bed, and you release a sigh of relief as his arm wraps around your waist and pulls you tight up against his front. His mustache tickles the back on your neck, and you’ve never felt safer. Here in his arms makes sense and feels so right. Your eyes slowly close, and you feel a single kiss on your skin. But choose not to say anything, and he gives you another before inhaling your scent. And then, lightness.

A man with so much power that can strike instant fear should not be as soft as he is with you and Lyla, and yet, here you are. Wrapped in a secure safety cocoon of his arms, while you hold onto his baby. Resting in a sleepless dream. It’s the first time in years. And you love it.

Lyla shakes her head no, giggling because Lloyd tries to take her out of your arms. Her chubby little hands slap at his, until he finally relents, and quits torturing her. “Fine. Fine. I was going to show you your room, but maybe I should start with,” Lloyd gulps as he looks at you. His face flexes, and you wonder if he’s at war with himself. “Let’s look at Dolly’s room.”

“My room?” Lloyd nods, looking over you confused. “Our room,” Lloyd’s eyebrows raise as he nods his head. He may get used to you being more assertive. “I don’t want to be alone,” you haven’t wanted to be alone since that night. And now that he’s brought you out of the city, you want to be by his side, and prefer that Lyla is there as well.

“I didn’t ask for your explanation. If you’re comfortable with that, and that’s what you want. I think we’re both aware of where this relationship is going. And there’s something else I’d like to discuss,” Lyla lets out a big scream, her hand slaps your chest, and you look towards her. You’ll deal with his comment about where the relationship is going momentarily. Right now a nearly ten month old is begging for your attention.

Her mouth opens and closes, “Are you going to say dada? Go on, Lyla Bee, say dada.”

“Ahhh!” She screeches, looking up at you. A bit of frustration linked on her face, “Ma,” your eyes go wide looking towards Lloyd. “Mamamamamamama!!!” her daddy claps his hands. Laughing, smiling, and reaching towards her. Congratulating Lyla on her outburst of saying — mama.

“You did it! Oh my beautiful baby! You came in way too early, but you couldn’t help it,” your chest heaves with how hard you’re breathing. Unable to fully describe what you’re feeling, or even how you feel. She called you mama.

It’s not until you’re wiping your cheeks that you realize you’re even crying. You’ve never loved someone the way that you do Lyla, and even if you’ve imagined being her mother, and don’t correct people that call you her mom this is almost too much. Like the things you’ve been wanting are coming to fruition. Lloyd whispers your name as he pulls you into an embrace. He rests his chin on the top of your head, swaying the three of you back and forth. This would almost feel like it is going too fast had you not been watching Lyla for months.

“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about.”

“I’m not her mother though.”

“No, you’re not. You’re her mom,” Lyla repeats the syllable over and over again. Giggling, and trying to get your attention by smacking at your shoulder. “You might not have birthed her, but you’ve become her mom. It only seems fair, and if you don’t want her to call you that,” he exhales slowly, and you furrow your brows watching his face show so many emotions. “I’ll respect your wishes,” he didn’t want to respect your wishes, and still he would.

“Where does that leave us?”

“Just where we are. Me, waiting patiently for you to decide where you want this relationship to go.”

“And if I don’t want anything romantic?” This is such a lie, but you need to know. Would he force into a relationship if you said you didn’t want it.

“Then why are you asking about our room?” You didn’t realize you had been trying to backtrack the status that you had set until now. Lloyd offered for you to have a separate room from his, and you insisted that you share. Lloyd offered to sleep on the couch while you were in his room, but you pouted for him to snuggle with you, and he did.

He had given you space, ample amounts of times. Allowed you to set the tone of the relationship, and it was you every time that was pulling him back into something romantic. It wasn’t trauma bonding. While there was a traumatic experience between the two of you, you’d been feeling things for him long before that night.

You goaded him. You teased him. You felt yourself come over and over again with his name on your mouth. Pranced in front of cameras he hid in your room and put on a show for him. You wanted him to break, and he never did. You heard him stroking his cock and moaning your name, but that’s because you went looking. He didn’t cross boundaries that you had put up.

“I’ll admit that I sowed the seeds of my attraction towards you, and made it clear immediately. When I pulled you over my lap and spanked you, I did enjoy seeing your pussy leaking, dripping, and clenching around nothing. I knew that you wanted more than anything for me to fuck you right there. Have you leaned over the couch while I fucked you so deep you can’t see straight. But until you explicitly say the words, I am just your employer. But Lyla is something else entirely.”

Those filthy words oddly sound like a beautiful sonnet. Yes, Lloyd pushed, and even demanded to be a dominant role in your life, but it wasn’t a push that made you hate him. It made you desire him more. And you have spent months wishing the man would just tell you what he was going to do to and for you.

You are so tired of being what others wanted. He got it. You wanted it, despite how depraved it may be. So he made the decision from you. Letting you sink into his world of sin without compromising your morals, because he was making you. But you wanted him to.

There are ways that you are becoming exactly what was expected of you, a kept woman. Except the way that Lloyd treated you, it was like you actually had autonomy in the situation. With Chase it was what he wanted, when he wanted it. Lloyd gave you a freedom that you didn’t think you would ever get, and you hadn’t realized it. And then he made you crave his rules. Because you also wanted to break some of those rules. Wanted to see him lose control because you knew he would take you to a place where you didn’t have to think.

“Explain this to me like I’m a child.”

“I can’t explain the things I want to do to you then. Because you’re not a child.”

“Then just put it into simple terms,” his mouth quirks crookedly. As if this animalistic part of him understands the delicate dynamic of your relationship. Balance. It all relies on balance, and trust, and love, and respect. All things that you’ve never been given.

“When Lyla is awake, we are as normal a couple as our neighbors,” gone is the city life. Lloyd couldn’t take such chances with you and her. Now you’re out in the suburbs with sprawling land on the property, secluded at home and still close enough to a small town that you and Lyla can live and not have people constantly watching you.

“When she’s asleep, everything will depend on your behavior.”

“Oh?” You inquire. Your fingers softly scratch over Lloyd’s belly, and the sweetest little baby smiles her two tooth grin, looking between the two of her favorite people.

“You’re pushing it now because Lyla can’t talk. But if you misbehave, I will have to punish you. I will have to drag you over my lap, while your bare ass gets spanked. And depending on how well you take it, I just may put you on your knees, so I can fuck you like the slut you are,” he pauses, waiting to see how you respond to his degradation. Reading your visual cues. His lips press just below your ear, and he chuckles.

“You’re heating up. I bet if I put my hand between your thighs, I could feel your cunt pulsing with a need to have me buried in you. You need a safe word. And I will obey. And I will not go further if you want me to stop.”

Your mind races as his hand travels from your hip. Dipping lower and lower. Skirting over your core to the other leg. “What will it be?”

“Night — nightingale.”

“Good girl,” you preen, but his hand stops their movement. “Now, do you want to make lunch or watch the baby.”

“What?” You look at him confused. He was just…he’s a fucking tease.

“The things I want to do to you, Lyla Bee has no business being a part of. However, it is lunch time, and I’m famished. If you’re ready for me to fuck that pretty little pussy stupid, you’ll have to wait,” you glower at him, and he smiles. “That’s for all those times you put on a show for me. Exposing those pert tits. Later, if you don’t want me to touch you, you can give me a striptease. And I will keep my hands off you, and just watch, until you say go. Here, you take the baby. I’ll make us some lunch.”

“You’re mean,” you whine. It is obnoxious how pitiful you sound, but he is teasing you. Touching you everywhere that you want him, and denying you.

“Aww,” he kisses your temple softly, handing you the baby. His mouth lingers on your skin. His warm breath fans over you, and thankfully Lyla giggles to break the trance, “But I’m not cruel. If you want me, you get this, so we have to be adults and be patient. But I can promise you, I will treat you with the utmost respect, and I will never make you feel like you are a prop in our lives. Do you understand that? Teasing is fun, but I won’t push you beyond your limits. If you need me to be what I am when we’re sleeping, I need to know. If you need me to fuck you stupid, I need to know. If you want me to make sweet beautiful love with you, I need to know.”

“You’re giving me a choice?” You’ve never been given a choice as to how sex should be. You just let them decide for you.

“It was always your choice,” he answers solemnly. His head bows, and he walks away to quickly. His own head spinning as to what you could have endured, especially with that infected cut on his arm. The Verb. One day, Lloyd will enjoy ending The Verb’s life so slowly that he begs for a quick kill. It won’t happen.

“Where’s Lloyd?” Roman demands, walking into Ari’s office. He gets too close to the man, and with one finger, Ari pushes him back. Roman is a nobody in this organization. Ari could end him before Roman even blinks. But then he’d piss off Lloyd, “Levinson, where is Lloyd?”

“Not here,” he doesn't have to tell Roman anything about Lloyd’s whereabouts. That is a need to know basis.

“He hasn’t been here for over a week,” your father’s stature is pathetic. He’s a tall wide man, but he doesn’t have the control to wield fear into people. Lloyd could eat him alive. Smiling at the man while he forks out his innards. Roman may look the part, and he may be smart, but he’s a fool.

“I take it you didn’t hear about the break into his apartment?”

“That doesn’t warrant his absence,” oh, Ari may have to keep this conversation to himself. Anything involving you, sets Lloyd in a terrible mood. Ari’s eyes slowly glance down the man’s body. “What?”

“Do you even know who is living with Lloyd?”

“My daughter,” there’s a pregnant pause between the two of the men, before Ari chuckles. Roman could never understand feelings such as love. Women are lesser beings to him, and none lesser than you, “I don’t see any reason to get all upset and for him to be missing.”

“You didn’t even ask what happened,” Roman stands there, immobile. His eyes are blank. “Someone broke into your daughter’s room.”

“She’s alive?”

“Yeah,” Ari didn’t quite subscribe to the fact that Roman hated his daughter like Lloyd thinks, until this moment. His expressions never waivers. He’s completely unphased.

“Where’s Lloyd then?” Rolling his eyes, Ari sighs, and turns his chair back around. He doesn’t even flinch when Roman's hand slaps the wall. His voice growling and low, “He’s fucking her, isn’t he? Her bitch of a mother taught her well. Spread your legs for a willing participant to make you rich. Guess she learned from the best. Do I get a bonus for giving Lloyd a live in sex doll?”

Ari smirks, staring at the computer screen. Letting Roman monologue his way into a bigger pile of shit than he already was. “We’re the same. I guess you need a pretty one with good breeding to be your broodmare, and on your arm for galas. But Lloyd Hansen will always have his professionals that he can really have fun with. Women like my daughter are to be kept at home.”

Keep going, asshole. Ari gets it. He didn’t even know you like Lloyd did. But what is going on between the two of you, is nothing that Roman is describing. Roman is explaining himself, creating excuses to the way he is. His only wife, and his only child. Lloyd isn’t Roman, and that man is far from being Lloyd. No one but Ari has seen the way that Lloyd watches you curiously. Or the fact that he had a special task in finding Lyla’s egg donor. Lloyd would have her killed before she took Lyla away from you.

“I guess his next goal is to pretend the baby is my daughter’s. He’ll probably fuck her raw until she gives him a legitimate child,” Ari grits his teeth. The disdain he has for you and Lyla is appalling. “If she ends up pregnant, he owes me,” he says, spinning on his heels. “At least she’s worth something now.”

“He owes you a bullet in your fucking head, you idiotic moron,” Lloyd had mentioned it was time to prune the people in his circle. He knows the next one to go. But Lloyd wouldn’t be back until you allowed him in. And he’d almost broke down your walls now. You’d been letting him in little by little. Trusting him a bit more not to break you. And only then would Lloyd return. You are his only assignment. And the only thing that mattered to him.

His girls.

Next

Masterlist

@tis-thedamn-season @marveloustaylortot @pono-pura-vida @peaches1958 @seitmai

@smile1318 @andydrysdalerogers @cjand10 @midnightramyeoncravings @kmc1989

@pandaxnienke @theinheriteddutchess @rainydayandmondays @buckybarnesisdaddy @patzammit

@rebeccapineapple @slutforchrisjamalevans @marvel-wifey-86 @jesevans

@ughdontbeboring @infantasywonderland @vampy-doll @i-like-to-read-13

@missacidburn928 @charmed-asylum @superflannel @hisredheadedgoddess28 @lostinspace33

@abbyyourlocalmilf @saranghaey @rogersbarber @tas-renee @kmm-fluv

[lordzannis]

Urgent Appeal: Help Ahmed Abusaada and His Family Rebuild Their Lives 🍉🌿🇵🇸

In the face of unimaginable hardship and suffering, Ahmed Abusaada is reaching out for support to save his family from the devastating effects of war in Gaza.

A Father’s Cry for Help: ''I am asking for your urgent support to help my wife Nour and our four young children, Batool, Aseel, Bahaa, and Leen. The conflict has robbed us of everything—our home, work, and the safety of our lives. We now live in a canvas tent in the cold, struggling every day to access water, food, and medicine for survival. My children sleep with their hands over their ears to block out the terrifying sounds of explosions and missiles. They deserve safety. They deserve hope."

Ahmed’s family has been displaced and forced into unimaginable conditions, enduring freezing winters, malnutrition, and illness. Despite his hard work and determination to provide, the unrelenting conflict has left them with no means of survival. Their lives now depend on your generosity. How Can You Help?

Ahmed is raising funds to provide basic necessities for his family, including: 🍞 Food and Clean Water 💊 Medicine 👕 Clothing 🎒 School Supplies for His Children 🚌 Transportation

Every donation, no matter how small, will go directly toward the survival and safety of Ahmed’s family. How You Can Take Action Today:

1️⃣ Donate: Your contribution can give Ahmed and his family the resources they desperately need to survive. Even $10 can make a difference. Imagine the impact of $20 or $50—it could save lives.

Click here to donate: [Link] Thank you for your compassion and generosity! Let’s make a difference together. 🌿🍉🇵🇸

£2,244 raised

£85K goal.

#8 on Vetted Gaza Fundraiser List .

$3,440/$100,000 goal.

#10 on Vetted Gaza Fundraiser List

€44,098/€90,000 goal

#12 on Vetted Gaza Fundraiser List

$37,160/$60,000 goal 62% .

#13 on Vetted Gaza Fundraiser List

$40,483/$70,000 goal 57%

#17 on Vetted Gaza Fundraiser List

(1 )Support the Awad Family's Journey to Safety and share them and along with (2)Haneen Awad's Family

(1)$1,433/ $50,000 goal.

We lost all we have: our home, loved ones, schools, and universities. Our entire life just vanished in the blink of an eye. We have no future here anymore. We're hungry and thirsty. We live in fear of being killed every second in a small tent. All we do is pray that they will wake up the next morning alive. Help us to leave as a family to gather our shattered life before it's too late.

My children , hopelessness and Ilan and Saji , are facing unimaginable difficulties. The sound of war has become a daily reality for them. Whenever they hear explosions, they freeze in place, engulfed in fear and anxiety. Their screams and tears echo, as they endure the psychological and emotional scars left by the ravages of war on their young souls.

Our city is facing repeated attacks and widespread destruction, making life here impossible.

We fear for our safety and our children's safety every moment we remain in this hell,therefore we urgently request your help to leave. We live in constant fear of explosives and suffer from severe shortage of food,water and medical care and supplies due to the catastrophic condition here. Additionally 21 members of our family members have been killed,some are still missing and buried under the rubles due to the airstrikes and indiscriminate targeting our city.

God bless you and bless your families. (2)$7,006/$50,000 goal.

Nagham-Karam-Palestine

£75,602/ £100,000 goal

$2,519/$50,000

Verified: @90-ghost, she got a chuffed account but they needed to Paypal in the meantime, still does put money in each account.

her name is Mai, and her father is Falah. Her family is in desperate need of donations, as her father is in critical condition, and they must continue surviving.

Mai needs to raise $100 for her family. PayPal is the fastest way for her to receive money, so she has asked me to use my PayPal in order to raise money for her.

They need money for medical expenses, basic necessities, and evacuation funds. Please share and donate what you can to help her family. https://www.paypal.com/paypalme/burnpygmalion .

Ahlam 's €10,316/€20,000 goal for gfm

Ahlam Ramadan, a 53-year-old mother from Gaza, has been enduring the horrors of war for over 12 months. The conflict has not only taken her home but has rendered life nearly unlivable. Ahlam has been suffering from kidney failure for 11 long years, and providing the necessary treatment has become increasingly impossible in her current circumstances. She requires dialysis four times a week to survive, but due to the ongoing conflict and the closure of crossing points, accessing medical care is a pipe dream. Ahlam's health is deteriorating rapidly, and she urgently needs to travel for treatment. Her situation is desperate. Ahlam is the matriarch of a large family—she has 9 daughters and 1 son, and together they have welcomed 22 grandchildren into the world, many of whom were born during the war. Despite having six daughters married and her son also having a family, the entire clan has faced unimaginable hardships. They have been displaced from their home more than 10 times, and now they find themselves crammed into a tent, where the conditions are unbearable. With more than 30 people living in this tiny space, they suffer from intense heat, the constant threat of dangerous insects and snakes, and the lack of basic necessities. The situation is not only a struggle for survival but also a fight against the deteriorating health of Ahlam.

Please share Ahlam’s story within your networks. Raising awareness is crucial to garnering the support she needs. Encourage your friends, family, and community to get involved. The more voices we have, the stronger our impact will be.

Your assistance can provide Ahlam with the treatment she desperately needs and improve the living conditions for her and her family. Every donation, no matter how small, can make a tremendous difference.

Tawfeek and his family (his wife and two children, Mazen and Manal) are trapped in Gaza with very low funds. They are living in a tent. Prices are very high due to the war, and his children need a lot of care, especially his son, who is injured. In addition to this, his GoFundMe funds were stolen by his cousin.

Tawfeek and his family urgently need funds for healthcare and other basic necessities. Please donate if you are able.

1,835/$20,000 goal.

https://chuffed.org/project/nofal $23,425/$30,000 Goal.

Nofal is a photographer who needs money

for his family in urgent need of medical care.

Perks

Small PrintMuseum-quality Giclée Fine Art Print of your selected photograph from a curated set by Ibrahim Nofal. Printed on 100% Cotton Rag paper, using archival pigment inks to preserve vibrancy for decades. • Sizes: 6x4" (10x15 cm) - 7x5" (18x13 cm)Est. Delivery Date: 2-4 weeks14 to claim Donate $25

Medium PrintMuseum-quality Giclée Fine Art Print of your selected photograph from a curated set by Ibrahim Nofal. Printed on 100% Cotton Rag paper, using archival pigment inks to preserve vibrancy for decades. • Sizes: 12x8" (30x20 cm) - 12x9" (~30x23 cm)Est. Delivery Date: 2-4 weeks to claim Unlimited Donate $50

Large PrintMuseum-quality Giclée Fine Art Print of your selected photograph from a curated set by Ibrahim Nofal. Printed on 100% Cotton Rag paper, using archival pigment inks to preserve vibrancy for decades. • Sizes: 16x12" (40x30 cm) - 18x12" (45x30 cm)Est. Delivery Date: 2-4 weeks to claim Donate $100

XL Print + Complete Set of 10 Small PrintsMuseum-quality Giclée Fine Art Print of your selected photograph from a curated set by Ibrahim Nofal. Printed on 100% Cotton Rag paper, using archival pigment inks to preserve vibrancy for decades.

• Sizes: 24x18" (60x45 cm) - 30x20" (75x50 cm) • Also included is the complete collection of 10 photographs in postcard-size.Est. Delivery Date: 2-4 weeks5 claimedUnlimited Donate $250

https://www.gofundme.com/f/help-me-save-cats-from-starvation-and-death

€952 /€20,000 goal, it has been months without funds.

https://www.tumblr.com/familyfaten/766559643115962368?source=share

Help Faten's Family Rebuild and Find Safety

How You Can Help:

Donate: Your contribution can help this family leave Gaza and pursue their education.

Conversion Rates:

$10 = 107 NOK

$50 = 535 NOK

$100 = 1,070 NOK

$200 = 2,140 NOK

Current Status:

kr137,373 NOK raised / kr1M goal.

https://www.tumblr.com/samahahmd/772553670954024960?source=share

Urgent Appeal: Help Samah Zakaria and Her Children Return to Safety

from the words of Samah : Hello everyone, My name is Samah Zakaria, I’m 34 years old, originally from Gaza, but married and living in Egypt. I came to Gaza two months before the war to visit my family, never imagining the devastation and hardship that would follow. Now, I am trapped here with my twin children, who have just turned two years old.

The travel coordination to leave Gaza is incredibly expensive, and I cannot afford it. My family and I have been displaced multiple times, leaving us living in tents under the harshest of conditions. I am struggling to provide even the most basic necessities for my children—water, food, clothing, and warmth. Every day is a battle for survival.

When I traveled to Gaza, I didn’t bring many belongings, and due to the ongoing crisis, the cost of living has skyrocketed. Even buying essentials like clothes has become impossible. My greatest wish is to reunite with my husband in Egypt and to offer my children a chance to grow up in safety and stability.

I am reaching out to you in the hopes that your kindness and generosity can help me and my children escape this nightmare. Please, if you can, donate and share our story. Every contribution, no matter how small, brings us closer to reuniting with my husband and building a secure future for my children.

Thank you for your compassion and trust.

With gratitude,

: Your contributions will go toward travel costs, food, clothing, and other necessities for Samah and her children.

: Spread this message to raise awareness and reach others who can help.

: Every act of kindness matters. Together, we can make a difference.

I trust in your kindness and generosity in helping them survive this challenging situation and reunite with my husband. Thank you for your support! Their Goal was $30,000 in gfm but gfm was like byeeee!, and now it is Chuffed.

$356/$30,000. Help them, please :(

$5,395/$50,000 goal nader19900

✅ Vetted by@90-ghostvetted link

✅ Vetted by@felukavetted link

✅ Vetted by@pocketsizedquasar-3vetted link.

https://www.gofundme.com/f/ymhrnt-help-my-family-in-gaza

$2,345/$30,000 goal.

sharif Al Amoudi:

https://www.tumblr.com/shareeffamily/762996061483745280/please-please-look-at-my-donation-campaign-and?source=share

His family escaped from Gaza but are UNEMPLOYED in Egypt!

Follow @shareeffamily and reblog daily. His vetting information is available here. He is SHARED BY @90-ghost.

AND, this family had to START OVER their fundraiser with nothing again‼️‼️‼️

They had thousands before! Please consistently help them raise money for treatment 🙏🏼.

€3,538/€50,000 goal (initial amount of funds) currant funds being raised is €2,791.

$40,328/$62.5K goal

Support the Awad Family's Journey to Safety.

@ahmad-ashi vetted campaign:

https://chuffed.org/project/help-ahmed-alashi

$1,055/ $5,000 goal

Ahmed Alashi is a 24-year-old living in Gaza, trying to take care of his mother. He recently lost his father during the airstrikes on his city. He's a bright, kind, and caring man, with plans for his life and future beyond this war. His mother, 68, is sick and needs his care. Finding a job in Gaza is nearly impossible. He is relying on you for help. He, like all of you, needs food, clean water, housing, medicine, and clothing. We have talked extensively over Tumblr and Telegram. He is ever-patient and has not lost hope. The US dollar carries much more value in Gaza, and donating is important!

https://www.tumblr.com/hashembadr

. Many survivors are still at risk of more serious health effects due to being deprived of food, shelter, and medical care for so long. However, with swift action and support for Ghazans, you can help them heal and avoid more suffering.

One person you can help is Suham Bader. Suham's arm was injured over a year ago, but she was not able to receive treatment for it as her family was forced to flee their home. Without medical treatment, her bone fused incorrectly. During a year of suffering through cold and pain, Suham's condition has kept getting worse. Her parents and her uncle @hashembadr are very worried for her. If Suham does not receive surgery soon, she will lose her arm entirely.

£50,000 goal for @hashembadr. So far is: £10,225

Urgent Appeal: Help Rania Alnabulsi and His Family in Gaza

Ahmed Mahmoud, a 34-year-old father of four from Gaza, is reaching out for urgent assistance. His family has lost their home due to the ongoing conflict and are now living in a tent, facing displacement, fear, and hunger.

Ahmed's story:Father of four children Lost their home and have been displaced multiple times Currently living in a tent Struggling to provide basic necessities for his family

Ahmed's plea: "I want my children to live a dignified life. I ask you to help me save them from this hell."

Current progress: €10,022 raised of €20,000 goal

Your support can make a significant difference in providing essential needs for Ahmed's family. Every contribution, no matter how small, brings them closer to safety and stability.

Please consider donating and sharing Ahmed's story to help this family in their time of great need. Thank you for your compassion and generosity.

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

Emergency Relief for Alaa's Family in Gaza

$94/ $15,000 goal. Alaa, who is currently living in the middle of the war in Gaza with her husband and three children. I have gotten to know Alaa well over the past couple of months and I have so much respect and admiration for her. She is a smart, talented, and extremely capable mother who is doing everything that she can to protect her kids within the given circumstances.

Help an Unbroken Journey: A Medical Student’s Fight for Hope

€12,846/€27,000 goal

As the war escalated in the Gaza Strip, a young 5th year medical student named Ibrahim found himself deeply involved in the conflict, providing medical care to children, women, and men. His responsibilities grew beyond what he could manage, working in the orthopedic department with 24-hour shifts in the ER and assisting with surgeries for six months.

Ibrahim's story has resonated with medical students, philanthropists, and others worldwide through social media and online platforms.

In 2019, Ibrahim was honored as the 6th top student in Palestine. He always dreamt of becoming a doctor and worked tirelessly to turn that dream into reality by pursuing a medical degree. However, his journey has been fraught with immense challenges.

During the 2022-2023 academic year, he faced one of the most difficult times of his life when his father passed away just before his final exams. While grappling with the trauma, the war in Gaza erupted, and he had to maintain his resilience.

Help Haifa and Her Children Rebuild Their Lives

€2,738/€20,000 goal.

Help my family leave Gaza and arrive Canada

$125,609 CAD/ $190,000 goal.

Ariadne Roodt

€10,891/€32.5K goal.

Yasemin Ozdemir

€160,117/€170,000 goal goal.92%

Omer Murtaja

$31,562/$65,000 goal.

Hammad Al-Akhras

$4,092/$20,000 goal.

Give our Families in Gaza the Gift of Relief

€45,872/€74,000 goal.

Akram Yousef

$42,260 CAD / $65,000 goal.

Leen Abusaid

€22,165/€100,000 goal. they still need your help!

-----------------------Lama from Gaza.

https://chuffed.org/project/122664-help-lamas-family-to-rebuild-her-life

$14,816/ $40,000 goal.

Help Gazan medical student Rula continue her education (Low funds, please help)

€17,320 raised

€25,000 goal

Help me bring my family in Gaza to Canada

$81,515 CAD raised

$100,000 goal.

Help My Friend and Her Family Evacuate from Gaza

$40,489/$50,000 goal! Habiba (aged 22), and her father, Emad, her mother, Kamla, and her three brothers, Islam (aged 23), Osama (aged 20) and Ameer (aged 16) used to live in the northern Gaza Strip, in the city of Jabalia near the border with Israel. As a result of being close to the border, she and her family had to flee on the first day of the war to a city in central Gaza and have since been displaced multiple times. Habiba's older brother, Islam, was able to escape to Cairo, Egypt, early in the war and is still there. Habiba and her family currently live in unspeakable conditions. They are in constant fear due to the incessant bombardments around them and have no access to basic necessities. There is extreme food insecurity and lack of access to clean water, no power to keep them warm nor enough gas to cook what little food is available. Her father, Emad, has advanced chronic obstructive pulmonary disease (COPD) and has run out of the medications that control his condition (inhaled corticosteroids). This, combined with the thick plumes of smoke they frequently breathe in, has exacerbated his condition.

Support for getting my family out of Gaza

$86,335/$250,000 goal.

Help a Palestinian Student Evacuate Her Family

$7,784/$45,000 goal.

Help Abdallah Mousa and His Family Escape Genocide

$4,961/$30,000 goal.

Fleeing Gaza: from hell to hope:Hadeel and her family to leave Gaza

€12,802/20,000 goal.

Help family from Gaza to safety: for Mohamed Almadani The rising costs of medication, food, and water have become overwhelming, and their children, including a 6-month-old, urgently need care.

€6,438/€90,000 goal.

help-us-to-leave-gaza a fundraiser for Aref Abu Maraq

€1,927/€30,000 goal.

Help Us Rebuild: Support Aref Abu Maraq's Fundraiser 💔🏠

War has left Aref Abu Maraq and countless others in Gaza with shattered homes, broken streets, and profound loss. But despite all this devastation, hope remains. Together, we can help them rise from the ashes and rebuild their lives.

This fundraiser is dedicated to restoring what was lost: 🏠 Rebuilding homes 🍞 Securing basic necessities like food, water, and clothing 📚 Getting children back to school for a brighter future

How You Can Make a Difference: ✨ Donate via this link: https://gofund.me/123f4d1f ✨ Reblog: Sharing is caring! Help this campaign reach as many people as possible. ✨ Send prayers and love: Hope and solidarity mean everything during difficult times.

Every little bit helps—whether it’s $15 or $50. Your generosity fuels hope, and your support will bring this community closer to a life they deserve.

Let’s prove that together, we can rebuild not just homes, but lives and futures. ❤️

Thank you for standing with us. 🌍✊

Help Ahmed Hammad Provide For His Family $24,705/$40,000 goal. Update: Hello everyone. Ahmad's baby has become severely ill, and he desperately needs funds to save his child's life. Please, I urge you to donate before it is too late.

https://www.tumblr.com/samah-2/778907760603676672/again-and-again?source=share $16,628/$86.5K goal

https://www.gofundme.com/f/eg2mqv-emergency-evacuation-needed-to-save-my-family-in-gaza?attribution_id=sl:4322203f-8a9b-4950-af6c-1c1aeaa87aac&lang=en_CA .

https://chuffed.org/project/helpahmedfamily

3,197 €/ 15,000 €.

https://www.tumblr.com/neveen3/775589815295131648/the-war-came-and-they-did-not-enjoy-the-toys-of?source=share

$731/$45,000 goal

Trapped Family in Gaza Appeals for Help to Survive

€80,218 raised

€90,000 goal.

Help Monis and Family Escape Gaza for Urgent Treatment

$31,585/$41.3000 goal .

Ahmed Al-Astal, a father of four, has lost his home and now lives in a tent due to the ongoing crisis in Gaza. His children deserve a dignified life, free from fear and hunger. Together, we can help Ahmed rebuild his life. Please donate $20, $30, or $60 today—every contribution matters!

My friends, we want to reach the $25K goal urgently. At the end of this week, we have $18,625 left. In order for Samir to travel abroad, Samir's condition is in danger, and half the amount was spent on displacement, food, and medicine. I need all of you. Please think about the humanity inside you and your good heart and do not leave Samir halfway. Samir has a ray of hope in walking on his feet, so be this ray of hope with your donations, and I am sure that you will be able to donate even the last 5 dollars

If you can’t donate today, please share this post. Every share helps us reach more people who can support Samir Ahmed Muhammad

samirahmed125 (vetted)

(very low on funds,give him help !!)

It is Donation Protected.

Help Ibrahim's escape the Gaza war

€80,536/€80,000 goal.(Seems it is completed, but I guess it is for the rest of the nearby building.)

Helping the Ahmed Fathi family achieve a better future

€23,616 raised

€80,000 goal.

Help me save my family by Amal Owies

(very low on funds!!) £7,852 /£50K goal

“Help Me Provide for My Family’s Needs”

(very low on funds!!) €4,945/€10K goal

Help Rebuild the Life of Dr. Farhat's Family

(very low on funds!!) $25,785 /$29.5K goal

Evacuate Kareem & Carmen NOW from Gaza! $13,300 raised

Please Save What's Left of My Family

$75,858 raised

$90K goal donations 83%

Help me and my family escape the war in Gaza

€45,674 raised

€55,000 goal (83%)

Help Fidaa and her children evacuate Gaza

$37,156/$100,000 goal.

Save Kareman Dohan's Family from Despair

$87,160/$80,000 goal.

Help me and my family to evacuate from Gaza Strip

Please help this family here.!

help me save my family from the war on Gaza

$14,586 raised

$35,000 goal

Please save me, my family and my future from the brutal war 

€10,426/€80,000 goal.

Help the Munna Tashmali Family Rebuild Their Home and Future

£15,385/£30,000 goal.

Save Malak's Dreams and Family from Gaza

€8,001/€25,000 goal.

Help Rebuild Our Lives in Gaza After Devastating War, on behalf of Sami Bakroun

€11,011/€80,000 goal.

Help Asmaa to continue school outside of Gaza $11,520/50,000

From War to Education: Abdelrahman's Resilient Journey

€21,925/€30,000 goal.

Trapped Family in Gaza Appeals for Help to Survive

$4,330/$20,000 goal. @laylaayman-blog

Help Mohammed and his family to leave Gaza

I am Mohammed, a physical education teacher.

I am married and have a daughter.

I am collecting donations for me and my family so that I can travel outside Gaza because of the barbaric war that destroyed everything in my city and did not spare anyone, young or old, mother or father, tree or stone, even animals were not spared. Everything was destroyed and my future was also destroyed. I would like you to help me so that I can travel and return.

£10,000 goal!

Your support encourages me to move forward. For my family.@aboodgaza0

0 raised

€25,000 goal

Aboud Al-Qudra was a business owner in Gaza. He had built a life, a home, a future. Then the war came.

His business—destroyed.

His home—reduced to rubble.

His family—displaced, mourning the loss of loved ones.

Now Aboud and his family are struggling to survive in a tiny, overcrowded tent, facing:

No clean drinking water

Severe food shortages

Lack of medicine and medical care

Scorching heat in summer, no protection from the cold in winter

After surviving a three-day siege in a tent, they were forced to flee under heavy bombardment, leaving behind their clothes, food, and medicine. Now, they have nothing.

➡️ Prices have skyrocketed, if even available.

➡️ Their tent collapsed due to rain and wind—22 people are now crammed into a 4x6 meter space.

➡️ His little brother had a seizure from the terror of an explosion nearby—Aboud saved him just in time.

Help us get out of life's crises and the ravages of war

€102 raised

€50K goal

vetted spreadsheet number is (18) link https://www.gofundme.com/f/restore-hope-and-future-for-my-family-in-gaza $101,566 raised.

Support Dr. Ramzi and his family to rebuild a new life €9,845 raised

vetted by GoFund♡Gaza.

$4,500 Goal.

Erin Loftin's Support Ali Jendia's Family in Crisis

$1,235/$50K goal

Help Jihad and his family leave Gaza

€6,503 / €50K goal

I’m here to support Suad-Khaled, a mother facing unimaginable challenges and needing our help. She has endured so much strife; now, it’s our turn to lend a hand. Suad’s baby, Khaled, has a medical condition that requires special attention and care.

$1,623 has been raised of the $5,000 goal. The family is struggling to access necessary medications, and power outages are disrupting Khaled's treatment, making it even more difficult for Suad to provide the care her baby needs. Please make a daily schedule to reblog her vetted post.

https://chuffed.org/project/128951-help-suad-purchase-basic-essentials-in-gaza $1,986/ $5,000 Goal!!!

https://chuffed.org/campaign/127688-rebuilding-our-lives-a-gazan-familys-journey-to-start-again $5,991/$30,000 Goal

familyaya5

[auburnitzy]

KAHIDLAW

CHARACTERS – NAWA + MK (OC X CANON)

DISCLAIMERS – Unintended/Accidental Cause of Injury

SUMMARY - "It's all for you."

“... Don’t tear your head off nor stick your neck out for me.” Nawa murmured out of a blue. Her gaze was still trained on the distance, away from him, perhaps on purpose or hesitance.

That came out of nowhere.

Still, it doesn’t silence the lives around them. The push and pull of waves crashing on the shore. The sound of children giggling in the distance. Some chatter as the people on the docks pass by. None of them would be ingrained in his mind unlike the words that just spilled out from her lips.

“Why not?” With a tilt of his head, MK shot her a look of confusion and worry, something that he should have grown accustomed to in his years of friendship with her. “I’m starting to think like you’ve got something under your sleeves…”

“No, I’m just telling you in case something happens in the future.”

“... Okay, that definitely doesn’t sound ominous.” He squinted his eyes, studying her for any signs of trouble before sighing. “You know you’re making it sound like you have a death wish, right?”

For a split second, her eyes widened before she raised her hand to wave him off. “That’s not… is that how I really came across? That wasn’t my intention… but you get it, right?”

“... Yeah. Doesn’t mean I’ll stop worrying about the stuff you’re gonna get yourself into.”

...

… Is this what you meant?

He watches as a blue lotus floats past, followed by one and another before it eventually gives way to more, leaving blurs of blue blooms wading past their boat.

It wasn’t until a quick snap of fingers reeled him back in surprise, his attention returning to that of the other passenger in this quaint little boat.

“They’re utpalas,” Nawa murmured, that same infuriating smile that he grew to both despise and adore settled on her face as she held up a bloom to him. Now, it was just a reminder to him that it was just her way of trying to bring light into such a grim reality. “You probably know by now that…”

“... Each petal represents a death.” he murmured. It still doesn’t ease the revelation that weighed heavily in his shoulders. He’s not sure if it’ll even go away. Maybe it’s just something he’ll live with for the rest of his life, knowing that someone would willingly put themselves through different stages of hell just to get him where he is now. “Your deaths.”

A low hum breathed past her lips before she set the flower back into the waves, letting it float past along with its other kin.

“You still think it’s your fault, don’t you?” Nawa placed a palm on her cheek, staring at him with what could be called amusement and slight censure. Calm. How could you be so calm? How, in the face of such a terrible circumstance? “I told you it’s not. It will never be your fault. I’ll keep saying that until you get it.”

MK doesn’t respond, unsure if he’s even able to at this point. He wants to rip his hair out, maybe even lash out and throttle her– but he knows he wouldn’t ever really lay a finger on her. He simply can’t bring himself to.

“Flower petals fall–” Her hand settles in his hair, a familiar sensation he still finds comfort in, yet this time, it only brought forth frustration and indignance in its wake.

He finishes it before she can. “–But the flower endures.”

“The form perishes, but the being endures.” A grin curled into her lips once more before settling into a smaller one. “I’m surprised you even remember the stuff I say sometimes. It’s sweet. That’s why I adore you.”

And the dam breaks. He feels his eyes burn as his vision blurs, big fat tears welling in his eyes before it devolves into ugly, guttural sniffles and sobs. It honestly makes him feel like a baby, unsure if these tears were out of anger, sadness, or a torturous concoction of both.

Some part of him wants to hate her. Push her away so she could finally be free from the chaos that was him. Sever the threads of fate and destiny that tangled them both – but he knows he cannot. She won’t let him.

A thumb brushes a tear away from his eye. Even then, he couldn’t bring his gaze into hers, giving nothing but clenched teeth and furrowed brows in exchange for her worried glance. It frustrates him to no end, how she could care for him despite his harsh treatment and attempts to push her away.

He hates how genuine it is. How genuine she is, because it makes it more unbearable for him to hate her in general. Even the thought of it unsettles him. The feeling was scary, the direct opposite of what he truly felt.

He condemned her to this. The least he could do is to stop being ungrateful and be honest with both her and himself– because deep down, that’s what he wanted. The only thing that made him hesitate was the fact that she’s being punished for the sin of simply caring for him– both as a friend and a lover.

His hand grasps her wrist, clutching it with an iron grip. “Why won’t you hate me?!”

“I love you.”

“Hell, even abandon me?!”

“I love you.”

“Why do you insist on protecting me?!”

“I love you.”

“Stop saying that and tell me the truth!”

MK’s chest heaved up and down, his grip tightening to the point that purple splotches slowly started to form on the skin of her wrist.

Realizing this, he quickly lets go and shoots her a look of contrition and panic, only to be met with the same irritatingly calm and resigned smile she held only for him.

“... What else can I even say?” She spoke as if he didn’t just harm her. Grip her to the point that it left ugly bruises on her skin. “I love you and that’s all there is to it.”

[icesapphireserpent]

Ford’s POV here

My parents love survivor so over Father’s Day we were watching it. Now all I can think is how stupid good Stanley would be at it?

Just modern Stanley watching reality tv when motels have it available. Endurer is his favorite. He loves the drama and calling out liars while he’s chugging cheap beer. He likes the host David and that he doesn’t put up with bullshit. The episodes where the loved ones show up are… he usually changes the channel if it’s that one. Unless he’s already hammered. Then he blubs like a baby. It’s one of those nights he sends an application to the show. He’s a little too honest about why he needs a million dollars. Figured a sob story like getting back to family might help. It’s not like they’d ever pick him with his records. But he gets a call three weeks later.

Stan is ecstatic. A warm beach? Constant swimming in the sea? Paradise. Sure there’s not a lot of food, but when is there ever? Changes pretty quickly when they win fishing line. Finally gets to put those sailor skills from high school to use. And Stanley is used to being chummy with people who have it out for him.

It’s not easy. Stanley tries to stay unseen both not too good or too bad. But Stan’s a big personality and on a tribe specifically picked out of the ruthless contestants. Yeah.. he should have been less charismatic in the interviews leading up to this. Should have held off on going so hard on the social aspects of the game but it’s so damn easy! Plus that one guy was pretty hot Stan had to kiss him before the alliance voted him off.

Might be why he was on the chopping block the next time. But Stan couldn’t help flaunting a little. He’s never been good at anything, much less a game (without cheating or card counting). It really was dumb luck he saw the immunity idol in Rick’s bag. Can’t believe that idiot didn’t even plan to bring it to the tribal council.

So Stan makes it to the merger. He makes it to the final five. He can taste that $1 million. And sure Pa wanted millions plural but it should be enough to get Ford as many Master’s and Doctorates at that stupid fancy school he always wanted. But all that hope dries up the next morning.

He’s first awake but Bianca is the one who finds the note for the Endurers. She makes him go wake everybody up so she can read dramatically to the group.

“For weeks you’ve called this island your home

Now we’ll make it so you are not alone~!”

She gasps and Stan’s heart sinks. Fuck. He’s not gonna have anybody.

“Todays challenge comes in pairs

So someone comes to make it fair!”

Who writes this crap anyway?

And despite everything the group picks up on Stan’s mood change. He tells the group he’s fine he tells the camera in an aside he had fun while this lasted.

They make it to the challenge area and one by one everyone gets some body. A parent, a kid, hell Bianca was family-less but her girlfriend showed!

Stanley’s alone.

To rub salt in the wound David walks over to him. “Now Stan you said that you didn’t have anybody.”

“Yeah. You gonna be my pity partner?” It doesn’t get the laugh he wants.

“As much as I’d love to I don’t think your brother would appreciate that.”

Holy shit Shermie? He has a bunch of kids to look after.

But it’s not. It’s FORD. Ford is walking across the sand. Stan doesn’t even realize he’s running until he full body tackles Ford.

“I’m still fucking pissed at you.” Ford hissed.

“Well you can be pissed once I get you that million dollars.” Stan promised.

“…what?”

It’s then that David confirms that the loved ones are here to stay.

Ford as buff as he is now is not good at lying. Ford has also never seen the show.

The rest of the show is Stan and Ford fighting and hijinks-ing their way through the game.

[topsytervy]

Safe - Leon Kennedy

synopsis: After returning from a mission, Leon wants to make sure you're safe.

word count: 883

warnings: Leon sneaks into the reader's house, a teeny mention of injury, like one swear word, grammar/spelling mistakes.

*Please don't sneak into people's houses, thanks. I don't condone it. *

~~~

Leon quietly unlocked the door to your apartment, slipping inside and closing the door silently. 

He always felt weird doing this, coming in during ridiculous hours of the night after missions. 

You had given him a spare key to your place after you had slipped in the bathroom one time, stepping out of the shower while Leon was on his way over to pick you up for a date, smacking your head off the side of your tub. Leon had kicked in your locked door after you hadn't opened the door when he knocked or answered his phone call, finding you unconscious on the bathroom floor which sent him into a panic. 

You handed him the spare key when you got home from the hospital, telling him to use it in the future and not his foot but you were grateful he did break down your door to help you out. 

Leon didn’t come in to be creepy but sometimes, sometimes, when he was getting back at stupid hours of the night and he didn’t want to wake you with a phone call -which was his usual method of making sure you were alright when it wasn’t two in the morning- he would come over, checking to see that you were there, sleeping in your bed, perfectly fine and looking peaceful as ever. 

He just needed that reassurance that you were safe. That’s the only thing he wanted in life. 

Still in his tactical gear, he made his way down the hall as silently as he could, knowing your entire floor plan like the back of his hand. 

As he approached your bedroom door, Leon lightly pushed it open, eyes immediately going to your bed that was pushed against the wall in the corner, laying in the middle but slightly closer to the wall, your back towards him. 

He let himself relax a bit at the sight, staying there for a couple of minutes to burn this into his mind so he wouldn’t have to think about the horrors he just endured. 

You were here. You were safe. Nothing could hurt you. 

Leon snapped back to reality when he saw you roll over, eyes opening slightly before you jumped, eyes widening as you pushed yourself against the wall. 

Leon tensed, a feeling of dread taking over as he realized you had just caught him, in your apartment, without your permission, at 2 AM, just staring at you. 

He froze as he imagined the next few moments playing out in his mind. You’d yell at him, calling him a creep and telling him to get out of your life, to stay the hell away from you. 

He watched as you put a hand to your chest as you let out a breath, his mouth going dry as his mind desperately tried to think of a way to explain himself. 

“Jesus Leon,”  

“I’m sorry. I was just- I’m leaving,” he said quickly, turning away but your voice stopped him. 

“What? Why?” He turned to see your eyebrows furrowed and Leon felt his heart swell as he watched you lift your comforter slightly, “come to bed.” 

Leon hesitated, “I don’t know, princess. I haven't really showered yet, so I smell and I- “  

“Leon, I haven't seen you in almost two weeks and it's late and I just want to spend some time with you even if it's just us going to bed. I’ll be damned if a little BO is going to stop me from cuddling with my boyfriend.” You told him. 

Leon sighed as he stepped into your room, unlacing his boots and sliding them off, setting them by your desk before taking off his tactical gear and draping it over the back of your chair, taking extra care to put his gun and knife on your desk. 

He made his way over to your bed, you scooching closer to the wall so he could climb in, a smile on your face as he slid under the covers next to you, the denim of his jeans brushing against your bare legs. 

You cuddled into his chest, letting out a hum of approval as you felt Leons body relax, his eyes closing as he took a deep breath, letting himself bask in your warmth and presence, feeling the lack of sleep from his mission finally catching up to him. 

“Missed you, bubs,” you whispered, pressing a kiss into his shoulder. 

“Missed you too, princess.” He slurred, sleep approaching him fast as his eyelids got heavier with each moment. 

He felt you starting tracing random shapes on his arm as you mumbled, “you’re here, you’re safe, nothing can hurt you,” over and over. 

You didn’t know exactly what Leon’s job was, just that he worked for the government and whatever he did would take a toll on him negatively and was considered highly dangerous. He appreciated that you respected the fact that he couldn’t tell you anything and that despite not knowing anything about the terrors he went through, you were there to provide comfort and take his mind off it.  

Leon dropped his lips to your head, pressing a kiss there as he pulled you impossibly closer. 

He was safe and, most importantly, you were safe. 

Those were the only things that mattered to him. 

~~~

[litmot-archived]

A Debt Repaid part 2 where Xanthus, Dontis and love get to Dontis home safely. Xanthus immediately starts hugging Love so tight, kissing them all over and not letting them go. Dontis watching the two of them and they all hug together by the end and stay hugging each other on the floor for hours

A Debt Repaid, continued

Xanthus Claiborne x love!Reader

The door clicked shut softly behind you, and you did not even have the time to heave a sigh of relief before Xanthus was on you. His arms snuck around you, pulling you impossibly close. You did not mind the blood on his hands. It was a welcome reminder that Audric was dead, unable to hurt you anymore, unable to make his threats become reality. 

You felt him shake against you, his breath coming in short little puffs that made you lift your chin from his chest to look into his eyes. “I’m alright,” you said, raising a hand to cup his cheeks, willing your feeling of love to flood through your side of the bond to put him at ease. “We’re all fine. It’s over. It’s alright.”

Well, that was not really true. 

You remembered someone lying on the ground, shot by Audric. Xanthus did not seem to care about them, and Dontis had merely spared them a glance before rushing to untie you. Thoughts of them — wherever Audric’s nameless last victim was — did not linger in your mind as Xanthus placed a soft kiss on your forehead. His eyes were filled with unshed tears, and you were having trouble keeping yours at bay as well. 

It felt almost too good to be true. After that waking hell all of you had endured, to be back in Dontis’ mansion, to have Xanthus in your arms, unharmed. The relief was too great, and you swayed, holding onto Xanthus as your knees buckled. He held you up with no issue, his arms tightening around you.

“You are safe now, my love,” he murmured into the crook of your neck. “You are safe. Nothing will hurt you again, nothing ever again, my love.”

A loud thump made you both jump. Xantus’ arms tightened around you instinctively, and both your heads whipped around to look behind you, in the direction of the couch. 

A weak ‘sorry’ came from the ground in front of it, Dontis having crumbled to the ground. His head was leaned back, resting against the cushions as he took deep breaths, the relief of escaping the tumultuous affair alive finally catching up to him as well. 

“I’m fine, please continue,” he said, “don’t worry about me. I just— I just need a moment.”

You shared a look with Xanthus before slowly untangling yourself from him. Together, you approached Dontis, coming to keep him company on the ground. Xanthus was seated next to him, one arm wrapped around his waist to have him lean into his side. Dontis chuckled appreciatively, resting his head on top of Xanthus’. You leaned your head on his shoulder, your fingers intertwining with Xanthus’.

“What a sight we make,” you said, pleased as Dontis chuckled again. Xanthus merely hummed, his eyelids dropping shut now that he knew everything would be alright. Everything was fine as he had his love back — and his best friend.

[bloogers-boogers]

Lucifer woke up with a tight sensation in his chest, he grasped the fabric of his clothing unaware of what was happening. Well technically he WAS aware but he was still mentally denying what he was sensing. He looked around at the darkness of his room, his spouse sleeping peacefully right next to him; ear twitching even with the slightest noises of his movements. He didn't want to wake him up so he carefully removed the blanket and tiptoe his way out of bed.

He approached the window with wise knowledge of what was happening, his hands planted on the reel of the window, gripping tightly while looking at the red crimson sky of the night.

Suddenly the red turned into a cold dark blue, immediately changing to something burning bright, to be more in fact, into a ball of blue fire.

Yeah.

His wings spread wide open preparing for flight before-

"Where are you going?" Adam's voice snapped him from his new task and raising danger to hell.

"It's–"

"What's going on?" Adam immediately sensing the shift of emotions in his demeanor. Something was already telling him nothing was okay.

"It's Michael."

His eyes widened.

"He's falling. I have to go now."

Adam sprinted on to his feet, "Lucifer be careful."

Lucifer softened by his concerns, "take the kids to the basement."

Adam huffed as he got closer while locking his fingers with his, "you better explain to me what the fuck happened when you get back, and NO, da fuck? I'm not taking the kids to the basement."

Lucifer rolled his eyes before smiling gently, "I'll be back soon. If that ball of fire keeps coming down then GO to the basement, it's the safest place for you all to shield yourself."

"What ball of fi—"

Lucifer immediately flew out of the window after giving Adam a quick peck on the lips.

It wasn't too long until he found himself hitting himself against the ball of fire like a man diving stomach facing towards water, with wide streched out arms trying to take hold of that beast. His brows scrunched together as he held tighter on to the ball. The flames burning his skin but in the core of the flaming ball he can perfectly see his brother. Knocked in a deep slumber clearly whatever took him out was far more greater than the fall itself.

Lucifer couldn’t help but wonder how? Why?

He growled as his summoned all his power to withhold the impact, he was trying so hard to keep Michael from hitting the grounds of hell. He can only imagine the damages that it would cause if he let that happen. Michael wasn't just some ordinary fallen he was the fucking KING of heaven. An archangel. The general of heaven's army. Heaven's shield. Protector. His brother.

He always hated to admit that any of his imbecile brothers held far more power than him, in reality they didn't with the exception of one. And this is the damn exception curled up in a ball, injured, vulnerable. In his fucking domain. Michael was born from the same light as him, just a few light years apart, it was no surprise they held a similar amount of power, qualities, 'perks' and traits. Still, Lucifer has and always will be the eldest of all brothers.

And with such curse, he must deal with the fact that he cannot stand seeing any of his baby brothers injured. Even if they didn't follow such foolish thinking like he did. Even if they casted him down to the dark pits of hell. Even if this is the same motherfucker that brought him here to begin with.

He cannot bear the thought of his baby brother having to endure what he did. It hurt. For some reason it hurt more than his own fall. Maybe it was the fact thay he was literally in flames over holding on to a ball of fire but still, he never pictured himself being the one to welcome one of his so called darling brothers to his home. Okay, maybe he did, but not this soon. He's being a tan dramatic, yes, but it's a form of coping alright??

Okay, Lucifer, focused!

°°°°

The fall wasn't pretty, atleast on Lucifer's end. Lucifer coughed like a 80 year old smocker as he tried shooing the dust away with his hand. He wasnon the ground on his knees, exhausted from all the power he had used to lighten the impact.

The more the dust disperse the more Lucifer can finally have a clearer vision of his brother layyed flat on the ground, wings twitching in pain, unconscious. Andin split seconds Michael started moving.

Lucifer slowly started crawling back up, carefully, calculated. Before..

Blazing blue neon eyes scanned the area cautiously, and as predator preparing to find a meal his eyes glued on to Lucifer’s red crimson.

They both froze in the spot, momentarily looking at eachother; one ready for an attack the other preparing for one.

[pawseds]

Sloane Mallory Croix is a Nobody.

Sloane is a nobody. She was born in Belgium to her immigrant Congolese parents, then was uprooted at 14 when her family moved to the US. Always on the move, she never found a home and never found herself. She had nowhere to root her identity in except one constant in her life: nature. Whether it was a marsh behind a parking lot, the weeds beside a playground, or an old tree in the backyard, there was always a little ecosystem with plants and critters to be found. No matter where she was, they were always there, and they were always there for her. The second constant in her life was the emptiness of never being at home, and of never being oneself -- you can't be what you don't know. And since nature was all she knew, nature was all she pursued until she obtained her PhD. But despite her passion, all it got her was a dead-end research job that was more underfunded by the year until it was fully cut. Jobless, her parents began nagging about how she, someone who was supposed to be a fully functioning adult by now, couldn't keep secluding herself in her own world and ecosystems forever. They told her she needed to find a job even if she hated it, that she needed to ground herself in reality. Sloane's answer to her parents' pleas came from the stars. Project MORPHO was the perfect opportunity for Sloane: researching brand new ecosystems and securing artificial, terraformed ecosystem on a distant planet far, far away from what never was home was perfect. The project became her third constant, and she sunk her roots deep into it. She did everything she could to meet Hartwell Corp's qualifications, spending months and months on specialised training. For the first time, she felt true excitement. The loneliness she endured, the emptiness she carried, the diligence behind her degrees: it all would have finally been worth something. And maybe this time, she could start anew. Maybe this time, she could finally start living. Until she wakes up too late 300 years later.

I joined a Mothership RPG westmarches that started this morning at 7am, and I had to rush like hell to come up with a character because I've been so busy. So here's Sloane! She's extremely Southern Cross inspired. This was rushed but I'll work on her design slowly over time (1 year campaign and all)

[sapphires-and-silver-linings]

Tend The Light | One-Shot

For the first time since being dragged into this hellscape… you finally had something to look forward to.

A chance encounter with your fellow survivor, Alan Wake, leads you to make an offer he can't refuse.

Pairing: DBD!Alan Wake/F!Reader

Tags: Fluff, Romance, Pining, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Smut, Infidelity

Notes: Hey guys! I recently finished Alan Wake 2 and I play him almost exclusively these days on Dead by Daylight, so I've become a little obsessed with him lol. I like that he's sad and just some dude suffering indefinitely. I also like that he tries to be a good person but still makes self-serving decisions that affect others, and just how introspective he is (though he gets in his own way). It doesn't help that Ilkka Villi is both attractive and an incredible performer and his voice actor, Matthew Porretta, is just so pleasant to listen to. ANYWAY, this is the first of many brain worms I've been infected with and is currently the only Alan Wake fic I've finished. Time will tell if any others fall out of my head. I hope you enjoy it!

Masterlist Catalogue

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

Do not take for granted daybreak’s warmth  For when the night comes, we must tend even to the light

The Entity’s Realm was not an easy place to get used to.

You had been here for a couple months, scrambling to escape the trials you were forced to endure with your many fellow survivors, failing far more often than not.

But you were surprised by your own resilience, quickly discovering your strengths and weaknesses and doing your best to help those around you.

Even so, to make it in this world was exhausting, the trials almost near-constant. You felt like you barely had time to breathe before you were being sent to the next one, having to brace yourself for yet another fight for survival.

Today, however, you were given the precious gift of rest, and you were desperate to make the most of it. 

You started off by lounging around in the office building you and the other survivors made a home out of.

It was amongst a cluster of city structures sharing a street, a seemingly endless fog surrounding the area, keeping you from wherever the killers might be stalking.

You were thankful for the separation outside of trials, but it did little to truly alleviate the horror of this new reality. Facing the deaths of your teammates and yourself everyday was a hell you couldn’t have come up with even in your worst nightmares.

You wanted to sleep, but you only felt tense.

Getting up, you decided to find something to occupy yourself with while you waited for the next trial to pull you in.

You chatted for a bit with some of the other survivors, though they were eventually called on by the Entity, leaving you alone for a short time with nothing but your thoughts to keep you company.

And dark thoughts they were—mostly a looping montage playing in your head of every death you had suffered in this place that just got longer and longer with each new one to occur.  

Now that was something you didn’t want to dwell on.

You decided it would be a good time to explore the area.

You idly wished you could run off and find a way out of this place, but there wasn’t much use in fleeing. No matter how far you wandered, the Entity would always have you in its clutches.

You moseyed about for a while, first in the building you resided in and then in the surrounding ones.

Every structure in the area was a corporate facility and they all seemed to look exactly the same, boring you quickly.

However, you reached the very top floor of the building across the street and realized there was a stairwell up to the roof; something the others didn’t possess.

Mildly enthralled by the revelation, you found yourself under a dark sky, night quickly falling overhead.

You took a step toward the half-wall that separated you from the sheer drop to the ground below but were startled when you realized someone else was already there.

Alan Wake, you recalled, thinking back to the brief introduction he gave you upon your arrival.

He seemed like a very kind man from what you could tell, but quite distant. Beyond helping in trials, he didn’t interact much with anyone except Saga and Rose, who had apparently joined him from their shared world.

He braced his elbows against the top of the wall, looking over his shoulder at you as you stood there awkwardly.

“Sorry, I didn’t expect anyone would be up here. Hope I’m not disturbing you,” you told him. 

“Not at all. I don't own the place, you can stay here if you like.” He offered you a small quirk of his lips before turning his gaze back out over the horizon. His tall, lean form was stiff and his expression contemplative. 

Taking his words at face value, you approached his right side, keeping a couple of feet between you to give him space.

You studied his profile from your peripheral vision, noting just how handsome he was, what with his long dark locks and big blue eyes, now slightly obscured by the furrow of his thick brows.

He seemed to glance your way and you were quick to avert your gaze, settling on the sky instead.

You were surprised to see a smattering of stars decorating the night, a lovely window into the vast darkness beyond this horrid place.

“It’s beautiful…” you whispered, more to yourself than anything.

Alan followed your line of sight to the heavens. “Yeah, it really is.”

“I do wonder, though,” you started, half-facing him as you spoke, “is it even real? Or is it just another one of the Entity’s tricks?”

“Hard to know what’s real here,” he stated, “but I like to imagine it is. Seeing the actual sky gives me the hope that there’s somewhere beyond this place.”

“And maybe even a better chance of escaping.”

“What do you mean by that?” he asked, titling his head as he looked at you fully.

“If the sky isn’t under the Entity’s control, then maybe there are… I don’t know… holes in its design? Maybe even weak spots to exploit if we get lucky.”

He let out a quiet huff. “I see you’ve heard some of the conspiracy theories going around.”

You laid your cheek against your palm, supported by your elbow atop the concrete wall, looking at him with an amused grin. “You a nonbeliever, then?”

“Anything’s possible, I guess. I just don’t think we should put all our eggs in one basket.”

“I don’t disagree, but as a working theory, it’s pretty solid. I mean, think of the fog. The Entity uses it to transport us not only around the Realm but from our worlds, right? There’s bound to be some wiggle room in between.”

He shook his head, chuckling lightly. It was a nice sound. “You make a compelling case, I admit. Were you a lawyer in your past life?”

You rolled your eyes at that. “No, no. Nothing so prestigious. What about you? You have an interesting career outside of this hellhole?”

He stared down at his hands, folded in front of him. “I was—or I am a writer. Did pretty well for myself before things fell apart. You know how it goes.”

You raised a brow. “Were you famous or something?”

He scratched his beard, looking almost diffident. “Uh, yeah, you could say that. But that was a long time ago. Saga and Rose are the only ones who really know that about me here. And, well, I guess now you do too.”

“Wow, I didn't realize I was in the presence of such a celebrity. How exciting.” Your voice was teasing, but you were being genuine, finding it quite enjoyable getting to know him.

“No pictures, please,” he joked, flashing you an easygoing smile. And what a nice one it was, the sight filling you with butterflies.

How had you never noticed just how attractive he was until now? You supposed survival was somewhat higher on your priority list up until this moment. He was quite a bit older than you as well, but that wasn’t much of a deterrent in your eyes.

You felt disappointed, however, when he rubbed his arm with his left hand and you caught the gleam of a golden wedding band on his finger.

Well, you could settle for friendship. It was the least you could hope for in a place like this, and you’d take what you could get.

You laughed airily at the quip before asking, “What genres did you write?”

“Horror and crime thrillers, mostly.”

“Impressive. Stories like that aren’t the first ones I usually reach for, but I definitely enjoy them.”

“Yeah? What’s your preference?”

You were a bit surprised by his curiosity, not expecting him to be as willing to socialize as you currently were. You wouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth, however.

“It’s a bit embarrassing, but I’m more of a romance enthusiast. Though I’d say poetry is my favorite kind of writing above anything. I dabble in it myself, actually,” you admitted sheepishly.

“A poet, huh?”

“I know, it’s pretty pretentious,” you said with a laugh.

“No, not at all,” he assured. “What do you usually write about?”

“Hm… a little bit of everything, I suppose. It’s honestly a great way to express some difficult emotions in an abstract way. And there’s a fun challenge in figuring out how to structure it and whether to make it rhyme or not.”

“Not my personal strong suit, but I respect it. You publish anything?”

You shook your head. “No. I always thought about it. Even compiled all my work into a manuscript, but I never had the guts to.”

“Afraid to put yourself out there?”

“Yeah, pretty much. Got a mixed bag of insecurities, I guess. Fear of rejection and imposter syndrome are the most notable. But I think the hardest part is knowing I’d be baring my soul to the world. That kind of vulnerability… It's scary.”  

He nodded. “I understand what you mean. Once you show your face to the masses, there’s no going back. When I first started out, I really wanted the fame, you know? But I realized too late just how overwhelming it all was. It felt like…” he paused, trying to find the words. “It felt like I was drowning in it.”

“I could only imagine,” you mused solemnly. “Do you still write, though? Even if there’s not much of an audience to share it with?”

“Guess I could. But no. It’s been months since I’ve tried. Since I ended up here, actually.”

“Same here. Hard to find time or focus on creating something when we’re all being stretched thin by these damn trials. Not exactly high on the priority list.”

He chuckled at that. “That’s definitely part of it.”

You fell into an unexpectedly comfortable silence after that, the two of you returning your gazes to the sky.

Your mind ran amok with questions you wanted to ask him, hoping to continue this pleasant exchange a little longer.

Then an idea popped into your head.

“I have a… proposal for you,” you said, facing him again.

“And what’s that?”

“What if, over the next—oh, I don’t know—few days or so, we both write something brief that we can trade when we see each other again? How does that sound, Mr. Wake?”

“You can just call me Alan,” he replied with an amused laugh before considering your offer. “Something brief, you said? Would a short story work?”

“Yeah, of course. Write whatever’s most comfortable for you. Maybe no more than a couple pages? I’ll just whip up a poem on my end if you don’t mind.”

“I don’t mind at all. I like the idea. It sounds—”

“Fun?” you interjected with an impish smirk.

“Yeah, it sounds fun.” The smile he returned with was relaxed, a far cry from the clearly troubled man you normally witnessed him as.

For the first time since being dragged into this hellscape… you finally had something to look forward to.

***

The day arrived when you had a moment of respite, yet again visiting the roof of the building across the street.

You were buzzing with nerves, the realization that an actually published and well known author (in his world at least) would be reading your work hitting you like a brick to the face.

But you felt good about what you had written, spending every moment of the last few days not in trials scribbling furiously in the notepad you had found.

Fortunate to be surrounded by office supplies, you mused.

The poem itself was about your time here in the Realm, and all the pent up emotions that came with it. You ended it on a hopeful note, however, both for your own sanity and the fear that if you went too off the rails with what you felt, you’d somehow scare Alan off.

You waited for quite some time for him to meet you, the sky darkening like it had the night you first spent in his company.

You were suddenly worried that maybe he forgot, or that he never intended to participate in this silly little exchange you came up with from the start.

Just as you were about to call it quits, disappointed thoroughly, the door to the stairwell burst open, Alan huffing as he jogged over to you.

“Sorry I took so long, I just got caught up in editing,” he told you breathlessly, leaning against the roof wall as he held out a notebook in his hand.

You were both relieved and giddy that he not only showed up, but clearly rushed over to meet with you. You had to hide your bashful smile as he stood to his full height, looking sheepishly down at you.

“It’s no problem. Just thought you got cold feet on me for a minute there.”

“No, nothing like that. I was pretty curious to see what you’d bring,” he replied earnestly. “And I wanted to know your thoughts on my own work.”

He seemed excited, and that had a warm feeling bloom within your chest.

“It might be a little too soon to think so highly of my opinion, Alan,” you said with a laugh.

“Then let’s not waste any time.”

He offered you his notebook, and you gave him your notepad in return.

“One thing I’d like to ask of you,” you started, feeling shy now that your hard work was in his hands.

“Sure, anything.”

“Could we check these out… later? The idea of you reading my poem right in front of me is a bit embarrassing.”

He chuckled at that. “I won’t judge you harshly, I promise. But yeah, we can just meet up again tomorrow if you’d prefer that.”

You let out a relieved sigh. “Thanks, I appreciate it. And I’m quite excited to dig into whatever you made. I’m sure it's great.”

“What did you just say? It’s a little too soon to think so highly of me?”

You rolled your eyes playfully. “Hey, you’re the famous one out of the two of us. Not exactly the biggest gamble there.”

“You never know. Plenty of shitty authors have a big following. The typical reader isn’t looking for a masterpiece.” He shrugged. 

“And neither am I,” you countered, giggling.

“Touché.”

Despite agreeing to meet again to talk about your prospective pieces, the two of you stayed on the roof for a couple hours longer, idle chatter turning a bit deeper as time waned on.

You shared the highlights of your life before, describing the night you were taken and what you had left behind. Who you missed more than anything.

Eventually, he told you an abridged version of his own life. Your heart broke for him as he explained he spent the last thirteen years—going on fourteen now—trapped in what he called the “Dark Place”, away from his wife.

He tried desperately to escape and get back to her, but he only managed to swap one prison for another. A worse one, which was something he didn’t think was possible.

“So many years I could have spent with her… wasted.” He sighed heavily, and you could feel the weight of his experience just by looking into his tired eyes.

You ended the evening on that somber note, promising to meet again the next night.

As soon as you were alone, you opened his notebook, hunkered down in the corner of the conference room you made your home, eyes greedily taking in every line.

It was only three pages long and his handwriting was a bit messy, but it was really good.

It seemed to be a horror retelling of The Scorpion and The Frog parable, and the way he crafted ambiance in every line—not wasting a single word to express exactly what he wanted to—was masterful. How he could make something so subtle yet so succinct was a mystery to you.

You felt both jealous of his ability and humbled by it. You almost regretted giving him your poem, believing it couldn’t possibly live up to his standards, but that would have meant you’d never have gotten to experience such a gem.

Your one critique, however, was this clear bitterness that seemed to permeate every sentence. You didn’t expect a happy little fairy tale from the man, of course, but you would have loved to see more range in the expression of the characters, at least.

You could barely sleep, not only going over what you wanted to discuss with Alan about his story, but battling with the abject fear of what he’d have to say about your poem.

You were even a little distracted the entirety of the following day, fumbling a bit more than usual in your trials and probably pissing off a few of your fellow survivors.

But hey, everyone has had an off day at some point.

You could barely contain your nerves when the time finally came to regroup with Alan, rushing over to what was now officially your meeting spot.

He was already waiting for you when you arrived, leaning his lower back against the wall of the roof, facing the stairwell door. His eyes jumped up from your notepad in his hands as you approached, a warm smile on his face.

“Glad you made it,” he greeted, beckoning you over. “So… what’d you think?”

Amused by his eagerness, you went ahead and jumped right into it.

You explained to him your thoughts on his piece, though you tried not to let slip the true degree of your zeal for his talent while praising his strengths or sound too harsh while offering your criticism.

He looked thoughtful at your words, simply nodding as you finished your verbal annotation. “I’m glad to know you enjoyed it, and I appreciate the honesty.”

“Of course,” you replied. “I doubt my opinion holds too much weight, but I figured I’d offer it anyway.”

“Well, now that I’ve read your poem, I think I get to decide just how much weight your opinion holds,” he told you, a brow raised.

Your gut lurched a bit at that, apprehensive of just what he’d have to say about your talent as a writer. “And what did you decide?”

He stroked his beard thoughtfully, contemplating his words. “I think you have a knack for setting the tone you want to express, and your descriptions are so vivid, they’re almost tangible. I also think the way you’re able to show your emotions through the text is as impressive as it is relatable.”

Your eyes widened at his praise, completely shocked that he enjoyed your work so much. You sensed the pit of anxiety that once formed in your belly morph into butterflies. An elatedness coursed through you, making you feel like a teenager with a crush on her teacher, basking in his approval.

“My only real gripe is that you handhold your audience a bit. There seems to be a tendency to over explain yourself. I also think you could benefit from a little more subtlety,” he added, grounding you back in reality for a moment. “But I’m no publisher or poet, so take that with a grain of salt.”

You nodded, storing his words for later, your mind flitting over all the ways you could have changed your poem to make it better. “Thank you, that’s great to know. You’re the first person I’ve ever shown my writing to, so it’s nice to get an opinion outside of my own head.” 

“I’m the first? Really?” He seemed surprised by your confession, brows furrowing.

You nodded, feeling timorous yet again. “You know, beyond assignments from my school days. I’ve kept my poetry under lock and key for the most part.”

“And you were willing to show me?”

You chuckled lightly. “Well, you’re a famous writer, who better to get an appraisal from? Not to mention, I thought maybe this could help me get closer to you.”

You weren’t sure, but you could swear you saw a blush color his cheeks.

His tone as he replied was self-effacing, however, “Not sure why you would want to. I’m just a lonely old man, after all.”

You rolled your eyes, feeling a pang in your chest at his statement. “You’re not old, Alan.”

His lips quirked up into a small grin. “Well, I’m certainly getting there.”

Shaking your head, you looked down at the notebook in your hand, ready to return it to its owner. “Regardless, I was wondering if you still want to do this. Keep writing for each other, I mean.”

You practically prayed to whatever out there might listen that he would agree, not wanting to lose this friendship building between you. You never thought you’d find someone you were so intellectually compatible with in a place like this—or ever.

A selfish part of you wanted to see if this could bloom into something more despite him making it clear he still loved and missed his wife. You didn’t think you could stand giving up these late night rendezvous, talking into the small hours of the morning and getting to see the warmth of his smile and hear the sound of his deep laugh.

If you could swim in those bright blue eyes, you would have already dove in.

What had gotten into you?

You braced for his answer, preparing for the deep-seated disappointment that would inevitably follow in the wake of his rejection.

“Yeah, I’d like that very much,” he answered instead. “I have to admit, writing for an audience again after a decade of only doing it for survival has been… nice. Sure, there’s freedom in it no longer being a necessity, but I’d lost all motivation until you came along. This last week has been the most normal I’ve felt in years. Though… it might be selfish of me to want to hold on to it.”

Your heart raced in your chest, relief and an overwhelming joy filling you whole.

“I’m happy I could do that for you,” you told him earnestly. “And it’s not selfish at all. We should hold on to the few good things we have. Nothing wrong with that.”

He offered you a fond smile at your words, and you knew in that moment you would give anything to keep it gracing his handsome face.

“In any case,” he replied, voice soft, “thank you.”

“Maybe I should be thanking you for being so willing to play along with my silly game. I don’t think anyone else would have given me the time of day.”

He chuckled, placing his large hand on your shoulder and squeezing it gently, to your surprise. “Well, I look forward to what comes next.”

The contact was warm and sent you reeling despite how little it was.

The two of you then exchanged your notebooks once more and he retired for the night, leaving you to your own devices, your gaze following his tall form as he retreated to the stairwell.

You let out a breath you didn't know you were holding and looked back up at the sky, stars still twinkling in the night.

How strange it was that those constellations would remain painted in the heavens during your entire existence, and yet your life was just a stream of ceaseless change.

Like a tide. Like the wind. Impermanent. 

You knew what you would write next.

***

You and Alan continued your little exchange over the next several weeks, the two of you growing closer with every evening spent in each other’s company. His gentle guidance in helping you hone your craft was appreciated greatly, and you could tell your work was improving.

Although you didn’t spend much time together outside of your allotted meetings, the two of you would still chat in passing, and it appeared like you were the first person Alan tried to help when you wound up together in trials.

You were happy that you had finally found a good friend here. 

However, your crush on the man was forming into full-blown feelings, which were getting harder and harder to ignore.

Sometimes, in the quiet, intimate moments shared between you, you considered telling him the truth. 

But one glance at his wedding ring had you biting your tongue—yearning filling your days more than fear, it would seem.

You savored every conversation made under starlight, keeping all the easy banter and every dark confession locked away inside of you.

The fact he was willing to confide in you, that he thought so highly of you and your opinion… you would never take it for granted. 

Tonight, you brought with you a tin of stale butter cookies you discovered while scrounging in the area, wanting to indulge in this little treat with Alan. He deserved this small comfort, after all.

“Hey, you,” he greeted affably as you came through the stairwell entrance, patting the spot beside him on the ground where he had placed a quilt he found a couple weeks prior. “What do you have there?”

You sat with crossed legs next to him, face heating up just by being in his proximity.

You opened the tin and held it out to him. “Brought a snack for us to split.”

His eyes seemed to soften at your words, grabbing a cookie from the top. “Thank you. I appreciate you willing to share your treats with me. God knows they’re far and few between.”

You shrug, your gaze unable to meet his, feeling suddenly shy.

“Least I could do for you taking pity on me,” you teased.

“And here I thought you were taking pity on me,” he replied with a chuckle, taking a bite out of the stale confection. He smiled at the taste, sighing in contentment as he leaned back on his hands, his legs stretched outward.

His reaction made you happy, warmth settling in your belly along with the treat. You glanced over at him, seeing a crumb stuck in his beard.

You giggled, leaning over to pluck it from his hair.

“Saving some for later?” you joke as you flick it into the distance.

He looked abashed as he laughed awkwardly.

“I promise I’m not usually this much of a slob,” he assured. “Maybe I should just shave the damn thing.”

“No!” you said far too quickly, your eyes widening at your own outburst.

“No?” he questioned, quirking a brow.

“Sorry, it’s just that I like the beard. Call me a sucker for facial hair,” you admitted sheepishly.

“Is that so?” He was clearly amused, making you let out a puff of air.

“What can I say? I like the rugged look.”

“What else are you a sucker for?” His voice dipped low, the rasp of it sending a tingle down your spine.

Was he messing with you? You couldn’t be sure, but the butterflies in your belly made it hard to think clearly, especially with the way he leveled his gaze on you.

“Pretty eyes,” you let slip. His surprise at your words emboldened you to elaborate, “You definitely have a pair of those. Like looking at a clear blue sky.”

He huffed out a laugh, the corners of those lovely eyes creasing as he grinned at you.

“Well, I think your best trait is your smile,” he told you. “You could light up a room with it.”

Your breath hitched at the compliment as he leaned closer.

“Speaking of, you have something…” he paused as he placed his large hand against your face, dragging his thumb delicately across the side of your mouth to clean it, “here.”

Your heart hammered in your chest at the contact, the man never having touched you like this before. The air suddenly shifted, thick with an unexpected tension.

Breathlessly, you tried to alleviate it by joking, “Guess you’re not the only slob here.”

His thumb then began to stroke across your bottom lip almost experimentally, rendering you frozen in place.

“Seems we have a lot in common,” he replied, voice distant as he seemed to contemplate something.

You could see the way his eyes drifted between your own and your lips, the silence between you heavy with what might come next.

As if possessed, Alan rushed forward, moving his thumb from your mouth just as he kissed you.

It was firm but gentle, and there was an evident desperation clawing up and out of both of you as you finally jumped into action, returning the kiss with equal fervor.

This was all you had wanted since that very first night under the stars with him, unable to stop the whimper that escaped you as his tongue invaded your mouth.

Both of his hands now cupped the sides of your face, and you gripped the lapels of his suit jacket for purchase, losing yourself in the moment completely.

Suddenly, Alan ripped away from you, scrambling backwards as if struck.

Your brows furrowed in confusion and concern, seeing the way he breathed hard and his eyes widened.

Before you could speak, Alan jumped to his feet, holding the back of his head with his hands, evidently distressed.

“I shouldn’t have done that,” he muttered, refusing to look at you before he turned, already retreating to the stairwell. “I—I’m sorry. Goodnight.”

“Alan!” you called, dismayed by the way he was hurrying off.

But he was already gone, leaving you alone with nothing but the sky for company.

Tears pricked your eyes as you shuddered, the warmth from his touch now replaced with the chill of the night creeping back in.

You couldn’t stop the way your cries echoed in the dark.

***

A week passed, and every night you went back up to the roof, waiting.

He never came.

He avoided you in common areas and even in trials now, refusing to look you in the eye or speak to you.

Another week, and your visits to the roof dwindled to every couple of days.

Two more, and you stopped going altogether.

You had felt heartache before, but this… this was different. The connection you had, the way your minds and bodies seemed to move in sync when you were together—even outside of the romantic longing you held for him, you had never experienced anything like it.  

Losing this nameless thing you shared with Alan felt like a void sitting inside of your chest, slowly eating away at you until eventually there would be nothing left.

And the kiss.

Even a month after your separation, you still couldn’t get the sensation of his lips off your mind.

You felt stupid for holding on so tightly to something that never should have happened in the first place.

Unable to keep it in any longer, you decided to write.

After finishing the poem, agonizing over every detail, you went up to the roof one last time. You set the folded piece of paper on the quilt that was still laid out on the concrete, placing a heavy bookend you found on top of it to prevent it from blowing away.

If he had washed his hands of you without so much as giving you a chance to speak to him, you could at least tell him through pen on paper.

He was a writer, after all. That might be the only thing to make him understand.

The next day, though, you felt a sudden embarrassment for giving him even the slightest indication of how you felt, believing that he might not see the page if he stopped visiting the rooftop to avoid you anyway.

Worse still was the thought of another survivor finding the poem, which was addressed to Alan and had your name written at the bottom.

When you had the chance to get away from the trials for the day, you snuck back up to the roof, desperate to grab the piece of paper you had left. You wanted to try your best to go back to the way things were before you ever stumbled upon Alan in the first place.

Your heart halted in your chest, however, when you stepped through the stairwell door.

Alan was there, leaning against the edge of the roof wall, staring out at the darkening horizon just like the night that started it all.

You were frozen in place, simply standing there, questioning if you were imagining things for a second.

Before you could pull yourself together and spin on your heels to escape, Alan had turned around, the soft call of your name from his lips making you pause.

Your tongue felt heavy in your mouth, unable to even speak as he beckoned you over to him.

“Please…” he said, voice tight. “We need to talk.”

Hesitantly, you nodded, joining him by the wall. It was silent for a long while and he seemed to be avoiding your gaze. You wondered what he could be thinking.

Slowly, he pulled a folded piece of paper from his breast pocket and your stomach dropped when you realized what it was.

“I read it,” he confirmed, “and it got me thinking.”

You felt a surge of panic at that, terrified that he was about to rub salt in the wound—tell you how little you truly meant to him in the weeks you spent in each other’s company.

“I shouldn’t have left it here, I’m sorry,” you said quickly, finally able to get words out of your mouth.

“No, no, don’t be,” he urged, glancing down at you, “I’m glad you did.” His eyes moved away from you again, looking pained as he quietly added, “I’m sorry for how I handled things. It wasn’t fair to you.” 

An apology. It wasn’t something you really thought would be said in this moment, but you could tell it was genuine—if the anguished, deep frown marring his face was any indication. 

“I appreciate it,” you told him. “And for what it’s worth… I’m sorry too.”

His eyes were wide when they met yours. “What are you apologizing for? You’ve done nothing wrong.”

You swallowed thickly, dropping your head. “For wanting you even when I knew I shouldn’t.”

Glancing up at him from your peripherals, your shame apparent, you could see the way his expression softened. 

“There’s something I want to tell you,” he started, “and I would like for you to just listen.”

You turned to him and simply nodded, watching as he sighed deeply and placed his elbows atop the wall, staring at his hands in contemplation.

“All these years, wandering in the dark… the only thing that pushed me through was the thought of Alice and getting home to her.” As he spoke, you felt your heart sink into your gut, both in guilt and the renewed heartbreak of believing he was about to end things between you for good.

Still, you remained quiet.

He continued, “Despite the hopelessness of it all, I felt some sense of control in the Dark Place. My writing could affect reality, and that meant that if I just wrote the right thing, I could get out. But here… it’s different. The rules are different. My writing has no effect, and when I first arrived… I just panicked.”

He sighed again, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his palms as if to wipe away the vision of all the years he believed had been wasted. “The change—it made me feel like I was losing the very last of my hope. That I’d never make it out of this alive.” He paused to look down at you, that blue gaze reflecting his misery like the surface of water. “If I lose it, this stubborn thing that’s pushed me through thirteen years of madness and terror and the drowning loneliness… what would I have left?”

You could feel tears welling in your eyes, his sadness palpable.

He let out a shaky breath and a soft chuckle, a hint of a smile gracing his lips. “Meeting you, spending time with you—it reminded me of better days. It reminded me that there is still hope, still a flicker of light in all this darkness. I think, in many ways, you may have saved me from throwing in the towel completely. It was hard not to be drawn to you because of that.”

Your lips parted in surprise at his words, the warmth of them settling upon you like a blanket. 

It may not change the outcome of this night—he may still choose to keep his distance—but now you knew the truth.

You meant something to him too.

“But,” he started, “giving in to the temptation of pursuing you… It was an admission that being trapped here might be a more long term situation than I wanted to believe. The kiss—of course it felt like betraying Alice, but what it meant was somehow worse. It felt like I was giving up on her. On getting back to her.”

His brows furrowed. “After a few years, I began to wonder, you know? Wonder if she had moved on in my absence. She had every reason to believe I was dead, and each passing year must have been like tossing more dirt on my empty grave.”

You regarded him morosely, watching the rise and fall of his chest as he took another shuddering breath, running his hand through his hair the way he always did when he was particularly distressed.

You wanted to reach out and touch him, but you refrained. 

“If she’s moved on, I understand. The thought stings, but I would forgive her. I’ve made my peace with that.” A beat. Another breath. “Since meeting you, though, I began to wonder about something else.”

His eyes were swirling with the shadows of his grief, like souls caught in the river Styx. Perhaps you were caught now too.

“If she knew of my circumstances… would she give me that same grace?” he asked. “And even if she did, could I forgive myself for letting her go?”

He fell silent then, gaze cast down as you took in every word.

The heaviness of his confession weighed on him like gravity, and you wanted to help him carry the burden of it.

His feelings for you were the cause of this, after all. You couldn’t help but consider yourself partially responsible, even if he adamantly denied it.

“Regret…” you began, choosing your words carefully, “is a starved thing. You don’t have to let it eat at you.”

He looked at you quizzically at that, the slight tilt of his head the only indication you needed to continue, “Thirteen years is a long time, Alan. I know how tired you are. You’re sick of fighting.”

“Are you saying I should just give up on ever going home, then?” he questioned, an edge to his tone.

“No,” you replied, shaking your head, “don’t give up. None of us should.”

“Then… what are you saying?”

“Let yourself have this.” Your voice was low, gentle. “You wonder if Alice would give you the grace to accept comfort where it can be found, but why don’t you give yourself that grace? You know better than anyone how hard it is to come by in a place like this.”

He let out a puff of laughter, though there was no real humor in it. “I just wish I knew what she’d think. If she’d hate me for it.”

“I know I’m biased in this situation,” you told him honestly, “but I think Alice would understand.”

His lips parted, momentarily stunned, before he moved closer to you, his eyes full of hope as he placed his hand tentatively against your cheek. His palm was warm, a welcome feeling in the cold air.

“As much as I want this,” he whispered, “I don’t know how much of myself I can give to you. Alice… I am wholly hers.”

Your eyes fluttered closed, a pang of disappointment and jealousy carving into your heart knowing that she would always come first. Knowing that if the two of you ever did escape, he would be going home to her and not with you.

You released a breath, letting the feeling wash over and off of you. There was no use in worrying about the future now. You had to live in this moment. It was all that mattered.

“I know,” you replied. “I accept that. Whatever this is, it doesn’t need a name—it doesn’t need to be a promise. I’m just here for you if you need me.”

The tension between you was thick, the yearning in his expression making your heart race.

“Okay,” he murmured, yet made no move to close the remaining distance between you.

“Alan,” you coaxed, bringing your hands up to cup his face, “would you feel better if I kissed you first?”

He closed his eyes, swallowing thickly as he moved to grip your wrists. He kept your hands firmly planted against his cheeks, looking as if he was basking in your warmth.

“I’m not sure,” he replied candidly, though his voice was soft, “but we can try.”

You smiled at that, pulling him down as you stood on your toes to make up the difference, your lips pressing into his. It was chaste and sweet, more of an invitation than anything.

When you pulled back to gauge his reaction, his eyes were opened, half-lidded, and dark.

Suddenly, his hands moved from around your wrists to tangle into your hair, pulling you back to him and kissing you deeply. It was as passionate and desperate as that very first one, but this time there was no holding back.

His tongue pressed against the seam of your mouth and you easily opened up to him, craving nothing more than to devour and be devoured.

If regret was starved, then what did that make want? Perhaps it was a forest fire or a black hole—all-consuming. 

Before you could react, Alan grabbed you by the hips, pulling you up with surprising strength to seat you on the wall.

Out of instinct, you wrapped your legs around his waist and clutched his shoulders, separating your lips from his. A gasp of fear left your mouth at the thought of dropping down, down, down to the concrete far below.

His wide palms braced against your spine, holding you close to him as he looked at you, a playful smirk gracing his handsome face.

He leaned forward to kiss the line of your jaw, the hair of his beard tickling your skin, before he whispered, “I won’t let you fall. Trust me?”

The deep rasp of his voice was your siren’s call, your body and mind helpless to the way they were drawn to this man standing between your legs.

“Yes, I trust you, Alan. Always,” you replied, voice small but undeniable in its conviction.

He let out a wavering sigh into the flesh of your throat, your words having had an effect on him.

He then withdrew from the crook of your neck to smash his mouth against yours once again as you ran your fingers through his dark, thick locks, combing them gently out of his face. You shivered as his hand crawled underneath your shirt, callused skin scraping deliciously against your side.

You pulled away for air, your lips swollen from the barrage of forceful kisses.

“Alan,” you breathed, his eyes opening at the sound, “how far are we taking this?”

He paused, pressing a kiss against your cheek as he considered his response.

“It’s been a long time since… well, you know,” he said, letting out a low chuckle. “But I want this—want you—if you’ll have me.”

The words emboldened you and you tugged his face forward to give him another searing kiss on the mouth, desire coursing through your veins like your own blood.

“Need you,” you murmured against his lips, what little self-control you might have had draining out of you as though a stopper had been prised from the inside.

His breath hitched at your reply, and he gave you a final, hard kiss before pulling away.

“Not here,” he said, voice like smoke. 

He helped you back onto solid ground then, grabbing your hand to lead you to the quilt stretched across the floor.

Between sweltering crashes of your lips, the two of you kicked off your shoes and you laid atop the blanket, which was folded over and thick enough to cushion you a bit from the harsh, cold concrete under you.

Alan dropped to his knees to follow you down, crawling over your supine form.

You reached out to touch him, yanking off his jacket and tie. Afterward, you unbuttoned the dark blue shirt beneath, relishing in every inch of his toned chest and abdomen exposed to you.

Alan let out a guttural noise as he pulled off your top and released your breasts from your bra, cupping them in his hands. His fingers were firm as they pressed into the flesh there before rolling your nipples between them, eliciting a wanton sigh from you.

“My little poet,” he spoke on the crest of an exhale, bringing his lips down to your chest to kiss and nip at the skin there, “you are so fucking beautiful.”

Despite the desperation vibrating through your every cell, it was clear that Alan wanted to take his time; wanted to soak in the feel of you and the sounds of pleasure he pulled from your mouth. He wanted to savor this moment. Savor you.

His hands and his lips traveled down your body until his fingers slid into the sides of your jeans, peeling them slowly off of your legs along with your panties. His tongue darted out to wet his lips as he stared at your exposed heat, dark blue eyes filled with hunger.

He fell back over you, supporting himself on one arm as his hand lowered slowly, watching your face as he grazed his fingertips along your slit.

You were already breathless from the intensity of his gaze upon you, the small gasp you let out at his touch making you nearly dizzy.

He teased you for a while, biting his bottom lip as he took in your every noise and expression, the sight of his teeth pressing into the skin the most erotic thing you thought you had ever seen.

“Please…” you mewled pathetically, needing him to take this that little bit further before you went mad.

He smirked down at you, lowering his head to rasp into your ear, “Please what?”

You let out a huff, equal parts a laugh and a frustrated sigh.

“Please give me more,” you replied, hoping your words satisfied him.

He grinned at your begging before kissing you hard, pulling back just as he sunk his fingers into your already soaked entrance. You cried out at the intrusion, the delicious stretch of his two digits making you paw at the quilt beneath you for purchase.

���That’s it…” he cooed, tone both teasing and fervid, “I want to hear how good I make you feel.” 

A clever stroke of his thumb made you keen loudly, back arching. Your eyes screwed shut, feeling yourself getting nearer to the edge with every thrust of his fingers.

“I’m close, Alan,” you whined, your body beginning to tremble.

To your dismay, however, Alan stopped completely, pulling his fingers from your heat.

You let out a complaintive groan and Alan chuckled, capturing your lips in a deep kiss.

“Not yet,” he said lowly, pulling back, “I want to be inside you when you come.” 

Your breath hitched as he licked his fingers clean of you, clearly enjoying the taste, before sitting on his haunches.

He reached down, undoing the belt on his slacks, slowly unzipping them and tugging them down far enough to release his hardened length. You bit your lip at the sight of it, appreciating its size. 

Alan moved to hover over you again, tracing his nose along your cheek as he lined himself up with your entrance. Just the feel of him pressing against you had you swallowing in an anticipation so blazing, it made your skin flush.

“You still want this?” he asked in a whisper. “Because there’s no going back.”

You grabbed the sides of his face, making him look at you, “Do you?”

You could see the storm in his eyes—cyclones of azure blue—so disquieted, yet so full of hunger.

“Yes,” he murmured, searching your visage as if to find your answer there.

“Then I do too.”

A ghost of a smile danced across his features before he was kissing you again, almost bruising in its vigor.

He pulled away just enough to watch your face when he pushed forward, slowly sinking into you with a shaky exhale. You gasped at the stretch of him and your head lurched up slightly, your open mouth breathing heavily into his.

He closed his eyes as he buried himself to the hilt, opening them only to stare into yours and utter, “God, you feel incredible.”

You weren’t his and he wasn’t yours, but you joined together like you were made for him. Like a final puzzle piece slotting into place. You had never felt so whole. 

You knew then you would be ruined for anyone else.

He caged your head between his arms and your hands dropped from his face to the back of his neck, just as he drew his hips back and thrusted forward again; slow and deliberate.

He kept this measured pace, his length dragging against your inner walls in a rhythm both excruciating and exquisite.

If it wasn’t him, you would have begged for it to be faster and harder by now.

But you knew how precious your time could be—knew that this might be your last and only moment in his embrace—and you wanted to enjoy it.

Instead of pleading, the sounds you let escape from your mouth were just sighs of pleasure, your fingers grasping at his skin and hair in desperation.

He hitched your legs over his waist, lowering his body to press against yours, his hands sliding under your head to cradle it like it was porcelain. His nose brushed against yours, his gaze so intense, you could feel it burning through you.

“What have you done to me?” he rasped, his hot breath billowing across your flesh.

You let out an airy laugh at his words, replying, “Nothing you haven’t done to me.”

He smoothed a thumb against your cheek, his lips quirking into a small smile that you could feel when he kissed you again.

He began to quicken his pace, his thrusts firmer—deeper. You moaned into his mouth and he only grunted in response, slipping a hand between you to rub circles against the most sensitive part of you.

“Alan,” you breathed, digging your fingers further into his hair, panting between every heated kiss, “I’m so close.”

He drew back, voice rough like sandpaper as he demanded, “Then come for me, sweetheart.”

He held you nearer and your eyes screwed shut, overwhelmed by all of the sensations, your nerves ablaze.

“Look at me.” The command was spoken softly, but it left no room for argument, his free hand sliding down to grip your jaw.

When you peered back up at him, the sight of his intense gaze—blue irises swallowed by the black of his pupils—left you gasping for air.

It took only a couple more strokes of his length before you were coming undone beneath him. Your back arched and your eyes watered, both from forcing them to stay open for him and the ferocity of your climax.

You cried out his name as he worked you through your high, growling, “That’s it, sweet girl.”

His grip tightened on you, his thrusts becoming more erratic as he drew closer and closer to the edge.

He captured your lips in a fervent kiss, a low moan spilling into your mouth as he came, warmth flooding into your depths.

He melted into you then, letting out a shaky exhale as he pressed his sweaty forehead against your own while the two of you caught your breath.

His hands caressed your hair, and he let out a contented sigh before drawing back to look at you.

“Are you okay?” he asked gently, a softness in his gaze that still managed to make your heart skip a beat, even after everything.

He told you he wouldn’t let you fall, but didn’t he know? You already had.

“I’m more than okay,” you replied, tone wispy and teasing.

He grinned down at you, eyes crinkling at the edges, before kissing you again. This one was different, though; far more languid than the fever that had just consumed you both. So tender, it left you aching for more when he finally pulled away.

Carefully, he removed himself from you, the two of you hissing at the feeling. He zipped his slacks back up before laying beside you, tugging you into his arms.

“Here, let me keep you warm,” he said, feeling you shiver now that you were exposed to the chill of the night air.

You let out a quiet giggle as you rested your head upon his chest, listening to the sound of his heartbeat beginning to slow to a steady, soothing rhythm.

Every sensation you felt in this moment was a reminder that this was real; that you weren’t alone anymore.

A comfortable silence fell over you, simply breathing together in the dark.

In a small voice, you couldn’t help but wonder aloud, “What comes next?”

“I don’t know,” he responded honestly. You felt him kiss your hair, arms squeezing just a little tighter around you. “But what I do know is that I want you here with me. Whether that’s just tonight… or the rest of eternity spent in this hell.”

You ran a hand across his bare chest, smiling while you turned to look up at the sky above.

The stars seemed closer somehow, as if you could reach out and pluck one from the heavens like a diamond from its velvet display.

You faced Alan once more, propping yourself on your elbow, “Then I suppose we should make every second count.”

He reached out to graze his knuckles against your cheek, a flood of emotions filling you both as you looked at each other.

He tugged you toward him, kissing you, all the things he couldn’t seem to say bleeding into every movement of his lips.

He finally drew back, eyes pulling you in like whirlpools as he murmured, “I intend to.”

When you fell into him once more, bodies molding together, you failed to notice that the piece of paper folded neatly and tucked into Alan’s jacket pocket had come loose, sitting upon the concrete.

A breeze swept across the roof and caught it, blowing it off into the night.

It wouldn’t be until the next morning that either of you would realize it was gone, a minor disappointment shrugged off and soon forgotten as you kissed under sunlight for the first time.

If anyone were to come across the page, however, curious as they pulled it open, the words that might greet them would read:

I was a shadow in the times before But when I met you, something sparked A flicker became a burst, became a wildfire And the breadth between us contained entire galaxies  An entanglement of a million stars heating up inside of me When our lips met, every sun erupted into a supernova And I knew what it meant to feel warmth  Your absence is a black hole  The cold it leaves in its wake settles bone deep Your faraway gaze betrays the ghost that now takes your shape And your pain is a sacrificial dagger Thirsting for a little more of your blood I can share in your darkness if you let me Harden every molten spill that lingers between us Let our dreams be dreams in such a nightmare But know this: If ever you turn to me, the glittering constellations in your eyes renewed I will always be here, Tending to the very light you once gave me  I will remind you of what it means to feel warmth

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

Masterlist Catalogue

[duckymcdoorknob]

TALL ASS GIF WHAT THE FUCK !!!!!

This duck is out of her funk and ready to rock and roll

Pls forgive if the events aren’t chronological; I have not been in this arc for literally 50 episodes 😭

Wake Up Call

Warning! This is a tickle fic!

Ships: None! Kurama and Yusuke

Warnings: Tickles, small amount of foot tks, LIGHT SPOILERS FOR DARK TOURNAMENT ARC! Episodes 26-30 ish.

Prompt: The team gets scarce time to rest, so Yusuke has a bad habit of falling asleep in places he really shouldn’t…

Tags: @giggly-squiggily the queen herself for helping me out of a slump! @mystwrites My fellow YYH fan🛐 @chrimsss bc I tag you in everything :)) (ily)

Ever since Yusuke woke up, he wished with every step that he could go back to sleep. Sure, he was totally spent and straight-up passed out because of overusing his energy—hell, he STILL didn’t know how to control himself���but nothing beat the sweet dreams that followed him into that wonderful “nap” he was able to have.

Now? Hah, as if.

Every single day, it was “Fight these two teams back-to-back today!” or “Oh, Urameshi, I’ll take the tough one!” (As if he’d let his friend put his life on the line like that when he could do so himself!) or “Foolish humans, of course I know how to play cards.”

As if not sleeping till well into the early morning wasn’t enough, the boy was on a strict morning routine—courtesy of Genkai. He was to wake at five A.M. and go for a run, (which he didn’t much mind; he was “born on a treadmill,” as he claimed.) Then, it was endurance, power, and dodge training. Shortly after, he would have a quick breakfast with his friends, and then the fights began promptly at 8:00 on the dot.

To be honest, Yusuke was absolutely dog-tired, and there was no way he would survive the evening before “bedtime.”

It was a rare night for Team Urameshi to have downtime. Having just defeated Team Mashou, the four were having a wonderfully solemn evening. Kuwabara was very determined to teach Hiei to play Daifugo, Kurama and Botan were telling stories to Keiko and Shizuru, and Yusuke was on the couch spectating “the card game.”

In reality, the only thing that Yusuke was spectating was the inside of his eyelids.

The spirit detective blinked in and out of reality as his teammates’ voices began to warble in his ears. Despite Kuwabara’s incessant yelling, Kurama’s gentle tone was just enough to help drown out the cacophony behind him.

Trying his best to sound fully alert, Yusuke slurred out a sentence. “Yanno, ‘Rama, youshuld stard a pogcazt. You hav a ni’ voice.” (You know, Kurama, you should start a podcast. You have a nice voice.)

The redhead’s attention was beheld at the mention of his name, and he quickly turned towards the couch. “A podcast you say?” Excusing himself, the youkai stepped toward his team members, finding Yusuke curled up on the couch, blinking slowly.

Lifting the boy’s ankles momentarily so to not disturb him, Kurama opted to sit next to Yusuke, placing them atop of his lap. “So, what’s happening with them?”

“Ku-‘bara teachin’ Hiei *yawn* Daif’go.” (Kuwabara is teaching Hiei Daifugo.)

“I see,” Kurama hummed, absentmindedly stroking one of the spirit detective’s ankles with his thumb. “How do you think it’s going?”

There was a silence.

Well, as silent as it could be with Hiei and Kuwabara bickering.

“Yusuke?”

When the youkai turned to his right, he couldn’t help but smile at the sight. The boy was absolutely passed out on the couch, seemingly fallen asleep from the comforting touch. His hair was slightly disheveled, his shirt had ridden up to reveal his stomach a bit as well.

“Yusuke, you shouldn’t fall asleep here; you’ll wake up sore tomorrow,” Kurama hummed, patting the top of the boy’s socked foot. “Wake up, child.”

Another silent response from the teenager elicited a sigh from the redhead. His attention was grabbed by a yelp from Kuwabara, having just been jabbed in the stomach by a disgruntled Hiei.

That’s it! But was Yusuke even-?

Only one way to find out…

With a bout of curiosity, Kurama scooted his hand from the spirit detective’s ankle down to his foot. He used two fingers to lightly swipe downward, eyes never leaving the sleeping figure on the other end of the couch. “Yusuke, wake up.”

Kurama was met with a light jerk backwards and a curl of the boy’s toes. ‘How precious’ he thought as he repeated the action. ‘So he is ticklish…’

“Come on now, it’s time to go to sleep in your bed,” the youkai murmured, using all five fingers to go in with more fervor. “Come on…”

Yusuke sighed out a groan, turning over onto his stomach atop of Kurama’s lap. “S’eepy,” he mumbled. He snuggled into the pillow, slumping downward as he exhaled comfortably.

‘It’s almost as if he wants me to tickle him. He’s just flipped himself completely defenseless.’

“Honestly, Yusuke, you cannot expect me to simply leave you alone now. I swear you’ve much to learn,” the redhead reported as he once again started to spider his fingers on the boy’s feet.

Giggly exhales escaped the spirit detective while both of his legs shot upward in the air out of defense. Kurama chuckled and stood up. “Thank you for setting me free from my prison. Now then, up with you now.”

A small groan answered his request, eliciting an eyeroll from the youkai. The boy put his legs back on the couch and snuggled in deeper. The fox demon sighed deeply, kneeling down toward Yusuke’s head.

“Yusuke…” he hummed in annoyance. Kurama’s hand gently brushed the hairs away from the spirit detective’s forehead. His hand came to rest on the boy’s cheek, his thumb gently stroking it. “Come on now… you don’t really want to sleep on this couch, do you? It doesn’t even have seats with fabric. Do you know just how filthy leather can get?”

Kurama was merely met with a relaxed sigh and a smile of comfort—which he should’ve expected after giving such soothing touches to his face.

“Alright, fine. You wish to do things the hard way, then I shall do them the hard way. I am giving you one last chance to stand up and sleep, then I will resort to drastic measures.”

The youkai relaxed a bit when he saw Yusuke open his eyes. With bleary, heavy eyes, the boy glared at the redhead while he stuck his tongue out. Afterward, he immediately shut his eyes and hid his face in the pillow once more.

“Alright, fine,” Kurama said impatiently, “if you’re going to be so difficult, then I shall too be difficult.” And with that, the fox demon shifted downward and began to trace ticklish shapes into the boy’s back and shoulders. “If you don’t wake up, then I shall make you.”

The gentlest giggling broke Kuwabara and Hiei from their argument, turning their attention toward the couch.

“Come on, Yusuke, surely you can just listen and avoid losing your dignity,” Kurama reported.

“Nohohoho,” Yusuke whined as he squirmed.

“Oh! He speaks; good morning! Are you going to listen to me now?”

Hiei and Kuwabara—for the first time that either can recall—looked menacingly at one another, excited to view the endeavor. They watched their friend frantically shake his head “no.” Whether it was in response to Kurama’s question or his ticklish touch, neither knew the answer for sure.

“Kurahahamahahaha,” Yusuke whined, scrunching up a bit as the tickling fingers were dangerously close to his neck. “Nohohoho. Nohohoho tihihihickles!”

“Oh yes, if I must. I must “tickles” if it means it’ll get you to bed sooner. Maybe I need a new spot, hmm?” With these teasing words, the youkai’s hands shot down to Yusuke’s sides and begun to squeeze.

Feet kick rapidly as a very high-octaved squeak escaped the boy “shihihihit!” He whined. “Kurahahamahaha! Nohohohoho!”

The redhead simply smiled innocently at him. The commotion had gained the attention of Botan, Keiko, and Shizuru, who all had stopped to listen in on the event unfolding.

“Do you concede?”

“Nehehehev-hehehahahaha! Plehehehehease!” the spirit detective whined.

“Hmm. I must get creative it seems…” the youkai mused, quickly shooting his hands up to worm under Yusuke’s arms. He had been hugging the pillow for a while, leaving himself totally vulnerable. “How about here?”

An extremely manly yelp escaped his lips as the spirit detective clamped his arms down. He managed to trap Kurama’s assaulting fingers! Just… much lower… between his underarms and ribs… oh no…

“Dahahahammihihihit! Nohohoho! Kura-ahahaha! Shihihit- agh! Nohohohohoho! Nonononohohohoho!”

Yusuke’s feet rapidly kicked up and down as his laughter grew in volume. As if he didn’t get everyone’s attention before, he was destined to now.

“Well?” Kurama asked, completely unfazed by the boy’s reaction.

“Kurahaha- Kurahahahama! Nohohoho! Lehehet mehehe sleheheheep!”

“I suppose you leave me with no choice now, child. My apologies for exploiting your weaknesses in this way.”

What the hell was that stupid fox talking about? Why wasn’t he going to just let him sleep on the couch? What was so wrong with it anyways? Sure, there’s probably piss and blood and all sorts of fun things on the seats but-

Yusuke’s chain of thought completely halted when he felt forefingers and thumbs pinching at his hipbones. Eyes squeezing shut, the boy squealed into the pillow, shaking his head frantically. “NONONONO PLEHEHEHEHEASE! KURAHAH- FUHUHUHUCK YOHOHOU! NOHOHOHO! SHITSHITSHIT YOHOHOHOU BIHIHIHITCH! PFFFAHAHAHA!”

“Quite the mouth on you, Yusuke. If my morals serve me right, I do believe that a punishment is in order,” the redhead hummed with a close-eyed smile, squeezing with more fervor.

The spirit detective’s voice escaped him, and only squeaky responses came as he squirmed relentlessly. “NOHOHOHO! KURAHAHAHAMAHAHA! IHIHIM- HEHEHEHAHAHAHA! IHIHIHIM SOHOHOHORRY! IHIHILL- *snort* OHOHOHO MY GOHOHOHOD- FUHUHUHUCK OHOHOHOFF!”

“What was that?”

“IHIHIHI’LL SLEHEHEHEHEEP! IHIHIH’LL SLEHEHEHEEP! *snort* OKAHAHAHAY! OKAHAHAY! *snort* STAHAHAHAP!”

With a small grunt of admiration, the youkai ceased his “torturous” attack, allowing the boy to catch his breath. Finally looking up at the room, he blinked a few times when he noticed the rest of their friends staring at the two of them with dopey grins—minus Hiei—on their faces. “Oh my… it seems you’ve gained quite an audience, Yusuke.”

A high-pitched sound of disapproval left him as the spirit detective yawned. Flipping back over onto his back, Yusuke huffed and sunk into the couch. It wasn’t long before his eyes were fluttered closed once more.

The fox demon sighed when he looked back down at the boy. “Perhaps it’d be best to take the path of least resistance,” he murmured as he carefully slid his arms underneath Yusuke’s neck and knees, quickly placing him into a secure hold. “I shall be taking this one to bed, and hopefully I will be back within a few minutes. In the event I do not return, I shall see you all in the morning.”

After nodding to everyone to bid them adieu, Kurama trudged out of the room, looking down fondly at the teenager in his arms—who had absentmindedly turned toward the fox demon’s body and cuddled up. The redhead sighed with a warm smile, whispering:

“Atop of everything else, must I now be your mother too, Yusuke?”

Kurama helped Yusuke down onto the bed, carefully pulling his socks off and removing his jacket. He placed the two items neatly on the nightstand before kneeling by the boy’s bedside to brush the hair away from his eyes once more. “I suppose I should get back out there… hm?”

Expecting no response, Kurama blinked harshly in shock over a drowsy message. “You don’t have to… go back… you can *yawn* you can stay… in here.”

Another fond smile found its way to the fox demon’s lips. “Alright, move over,” he hummed as he slid his shoes off, taking a book out of his pocket. He sat down on the bed next to Yusuke, and opened up to where he had left off. Every so often, he felt the boy shifting next to him.

“You may rest against me; I don’t mind one bit.”

The sleepy spirit detective smiled as he scooched closer to the youkai, placing his head on Kurama’s lap. The redhead reached down to gently run his fingers against Yusuke’s head and through his hair, grinning tenderly at how differently he acted behind closed doors.

“After all you’ve endured, you’re still just a child… aren’t you…?”

Yusuke could only hum sleepily as the youkai covered him with a blanket.

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