#but then is she. 'stop telling people i fuck corpses'

[ghostcrows]

god i wish we knew how vikki approached him in the first place or what kinds of conversations they were having outside of this (in the beginning, we see a few things but i want to know how and why they continued to stay in contact after the video went up)

cause what would possess you to trust her this quickly OR think that she understood...

i think on some level the shared experience of being trans might have been enough for him because she can relate to him in that way so she would (presumably) be able to see the gravity of the situation with doxxing and all that shit (and understand the pain of intentional misgendering from literally everyone online and off)

but trans people do not always understand other trans people...i would even argue that we have a better capacity to misunderstand and hurt each other than cis people have over us

and vikki obviously does not see this shit as for real until it Gets real and when it gets real she gets uncomfortable and tries to find a way to distance herself from it again...and shes so distant from the shit that she recieves that she thinks that because she can brush it off when she gets harrassed that milo should be able to as well (on top of kind of sort of maybe thinking he has it coming a little bit)

the way she gets mad at him and misgenders him is so stupid and real like god. lol. although reading it again it definitely seems less like she was intentionally saying "well youre a GIRL" and more like the worst possible wording of a more complicated sentiment. like. "you are pulling the same crap as cis white women do when they get called out for literally anything and youre clinging to that percieved fragility and innocence in every aspect of your life"...which like yeahhhh but you still know better lol

[dailykugisaki]

Day Seventy | id in alt

Desensitization, to become a better sorcerer.

[iliveinprocrasti-nationn]

skipping class for the first time in my life bc my professor has covid and he sent out an email saying we’re having class and he’s asymptomatic and will wear a mask per cdc guidelines even tho he’s past the 5 day required isolation period. like. great whatevs but have you actually tested negative

update: the answer was no he had not

[sonofatoasterwaffle]

I know there's a lot of people in the fandom now who didn't watch from the beginning/don't watch s1, but I just can't express to you how important it is to me. For every character.

Hen cheating on Karen is a stupid, stupid thing but it tells us so much about who she is and who she wants to be and it makes HenRen so much better because you know they FOUGHT to get there. Hen saying she's scared she isn't the woman she wants to be, and then still choosing to chase after that??? To confront Eva and to tell her that it was never Hen who tore them apart. That woman is made of iron and soft edges and love.

And Chimney? Man, Chimney is such an incredible character for so many reasons, and Madney is one of my favorite TV pairings ever, but watching that man live through being single. Trying to teach himself that being himself isn't a bad thing. That he really will find someone who loves HIM and not whatever version of himself he's created for the Girl of the Week.

Bobby is so fucking suicidal in s1 it's not even funny. That man is nothing but a ball of regret and shame and yet he STILL BUILDS A FAMILY AND HE ASKS FOR HELP AND HE MEETS ATHENA AND LOVES HER SO GODDAMN MUCH EVEN THOUGH NEITHER OF THEM IS EVEN REMOTELY HEALED. Goofy Bobby who wants to shoot the Roomba with Athena's gun and goes on shenanigans with Michael doesn't EXIST without s1 relapsing raging Bobby. Without Bobby asking Hen and Buck for help and them immediately pulling him into their arms and promising that they will.

And Buck?!?!?! That boy is such A Mess. He's an absolute Mess who doesn't really stop to think a single thought for most of the season. But when he does?? He works hard to become a person who can be relied upon. He builds empathy not only for the people around him but for himself. You start to love him when he's trying so hard to become a better person, but 1x10?? Finding the man who's been using Buck's face to catfish women-- in such a spectacular way that it very nearly blows up Buck's life--dead, and having so much compassion and empathy for him that he stabs a bloated corpse to make sure that man has dignity in his own death??????? Are you serious????

S1 is worth it man. If you haven't seen it, you should.

[shdysders]

mistake

pairing: tara carpenter & female reader

summary: in which tara makes a mistake she can't undo

word count: 3.4k

warnings: violence, blood, stabbing, blood & death.

author’s note: feel like my writing is deteriorating, so sorry this might not be the greatest.

When you heard that Mindy and Ethan had been separated from the rest of the group, you immediately knew nothing was going to go according to the plan.

Everything had happened so fast. First accusation news about Sam had streamed on television, then Quinn's bloody corpse had fallen on top of you, then Anika wasn't able to make it across the latter, her bloody hands and Ghostface's shaking had made her slip. You had lost two of your friends in less than fifteen minutes.

You hadn't heard of the killings in Woodsboro until you had met Tara the first day of junior year, but she made sure to tell you everything that had happened the closer the two of you got.

Based on everything you had heard, you understood why Sam was so protective over Tara, the Carpenter sisters had been through more than normal people have in a lifetime.

However, even though you were nothing but nice and understanding towards Sam, she didn't seem to like you.

The first time Tara had brought you home to the apartment, Sam had kept a burning gaze on you for the whole time, like she wanted to burn you alive.

You thought that she would warm up and eventually trust you like she seemed to do with Anika, Quinn and Ethan, but she never did.

And it only got worse once Tara had called you her girlfriend in front of her, a huge disagreement broke out, so big that Sam had sent you out of the apartment.

You never got to know what Sam had said after that, but you did know that the glares you got from Sam only worsened and so did the small comments she would make about you when she thought you didn't hear.

Such as now, when Sam and Tara were walking in front of you, the theater being the destination. You had this gut feeling that Sam was currently talking about you. You just knew she was, even tho you couldn't hear her voice nor did you see her head moving like it normally did when she spoke, you knew.

But your mind changed thoughts when she rapidly turned on her heel, stopping when she was in front of Danny who had been walking closely behind you, alongside Kirby.

"Not you." She said, her voice cracking.

"What?" He answered almost immediately, like he had been expecting it.

"Don't trust anyone remember?" Sam replied.

You watched the scene with worried eyes, what Sam said reminded you way too much of something she had told Tara when she thought you weren't near. "We don't know you.. not really."

His face expression looked hurt, almost taken aback when Sam spoke. "You know me."

"You're not Woodsboro." She spoke quickly, rage lacing her voice.

Tara looked down at her shoes after that was said, her lips finding a home between her teeth. You knew she was scared, because you were as well. You had no idea how things were going to go down, you had never experienced something as brutal like this before.

You were seconds away from putting a comforting hand on her shoulder, before she looked up at you with tears pricking her eyes.

"That goes for you too." She swallows thickly, trying her hardest to look into your eyes.

You furrowed your eyebrows, panic rising through you. "W-what?" Your voice came out as a stutter, not believing what she had just made it's way out of her mouth.

Tara just nodded unsurely, her eyes looked sad and were filled with doubt. You couldn't understand why. If she was sad about it, why would she say it?

"Tara I- you can't be serious." You spoke again, voice growing shakier by the minute.

She knew very well how terrified you were about the situation as it was, and yet she still chose to leave you out of the plan alongside Sam's unknown fuck buddy? If it didn't make you shake out of fear you would've been infuriated.

"You're not Woodsboro." She stated, same thing as her sister but in a different tone, she'd tried to sound calm, but her voice was filled with uncertainty, shaky with worry.

You knew she was right. You weren't Woodsboro. You had never been to the place nor did you knew it existed before Tara came along. But the fact that she didn't trust you enough to know for certain that you weren't Ghostface, made you feel the need to fall apart. Did she really think you would kill your friends? Let alone hurt them?

The thought made your eyes sting, and before you had the chance to wipe the tears away, they fell.

"Tara please I promise I-" You felt embarrassed, being so vulnerable over basically nothing.

All eyes were on you as you tried to keep the tears from falling, you felt ridiculous. But you were terrified.

You couldn't stand the thought of being left alone in this situation. Not only because you were scared of being alone, but also because you had to protect Tara.

Although you knew Sam would do a perfectly fine job of keeping her safe, but you wanted to do it, you had to. You wanted to prove to Sam that you loved Tara almost the same amount as she did, you wanted to prove to Tara she could trust you with her life.

You could see that Tara wanted to give in, tell you that you could come along and that she trusted you with her whole being. Her eyes were filled with regret and doubt. But you could tell that she wasn't going to change her mind anytime soon.

She just watched you, biting her lips hard enough to draw blood. Seeing the look on your face just made her want to squeeze you in a hug hard enough to make you faint.

You looked so scared, and the fact that she knew how scared you were about the whole situation, made everything worse. She had noticed the terrified look on your face that hadn't left since the attack at the apartment, your trembling hands and the layer of tears in your eyes that never fell.

Tara actually thought that you looked more scared than both Sam and her combined.

"Y/n please just stay here." She tried to reason, as if she wanted this. But she did want it. She wanted you to be safe.

You wanted to argue, tell her that you would refuse to come along. But you knew that you wouldn't get anywhere with it, Tara was stubborn, she always got what she wanted somehow. And you didn't want Sam to see you argue with Tara, that certainly wouldn't help you get on better terms with her.

So you gave in, even though you knew Tara's life was at stake. Sam will take care of her, you tried to tell yourself.

You quickly wiped the tears on your cheeks with your hand, even though everybody had already seen them.

Tara's eyes never left your figure as she watched your trembling hands. "Fine." You almost spit, voice cracking with worry.

Tara nodded at that, happy to hear you give in. You didn't pay attention to anybody's reaction other than hers, they didn't seem to matter.

She walked closer to you, placing a kiss on your faintly tear stained cheek. "Be safe." She said, as if she wasn't the one that was about to walk into a situation that she would either leave traumatized or not leave at all.

"Be safe." You repeated, before you watched them all walk away towards the building.

Seeing as Sam turned her head to Tara and whispered 'good call', as they walked away.

But when you turned around to try and make a decent conversation with Danny, he was nowhere in sight. Making even more worry creep in your bones.

***

You had been pacing around in the same place and pattern for 20 minutes without any progress, Danny was gone, and your phone was dead.

The streets where dead and empty.

You had half a mind to just run to the theaters and do the exact opposite of what Tara had instructed you to. But you knew well enough that both of the Carpenter sisters would quite literally murder you if you stepped a foot into their plan.

But eventually the worry and stress got to you, like it always did. You didn't care if you were going to get murdered whether if it were by Tara or Ghostface, if it was for protecting Tara, it was a good reason.

However, before you had the chance to change your mind or consider the other options, a glove-covered hand landed on your face, covering your mouth tightly.

The yelp and screams you tried to make was inaudible, nobody could hear them.

You felt a surge of fear and panic, unable to hear your own scream. The street grew eerily silent as you struggled to break free, your heart pounding in your chest. Rush of intense vulnerability and confusion, as you desperately searched for a way to escape the grasp of the unknown assailant.

But you knew who it was. It was Ghostface.

You tried to kick them with your legs, but none of them seemed to hit. The person was holding a strong grip on your mouth, and the other arm was firmly placed around your waist. You were unable to move out of any of the grips, the person was too strong. And you weren't.

Your panic was making it harder to breath, and you were beginning to feel as if you were about to faint any second.

You tried your best to remove the grip with your hands, gripping hardly on the muscular arms, trying so hard to get them away from you.

The tightened arms had veins all over them, yet another reminder that it was impossible for you to get away.

It was Danny, you tried to tell yourself over the ringing in your ears. It had to be Danny. He had left the second you were alone with him. It had to be him.

Muffled screams and ringing ears were the only noises you could make out. If the person behind you was speaking in a voice changer to you or not, you had no idea.

The panic you felt was replaced with relief when the thought of using your elbow to hit the individual behind you entered your mind.

But you never got the chance to do that.

Seconds before your elbow was about to meet the Ghostface mask, you felt a sharp pain in your lower abdomen.

All of the movements you were making stopped the second you realized what it was.

One.

Two.

Three.

Four.

Five.

Six.

Seven.

Seven times you could feel the sharp piece of metal enter and exit your abdomen. A gasp escaped your mouth after every single one of them.

You tried to scream, but nobody was around. Your wide eyes scanned through the street, yet again seeing that nobody was there. It was all empty.

Normally the streets of New York would be filled with drunk teenagers and late night workers, whether it was night or afternoon.

But when the news about the killers got out, everybody stayed inside. Some people didn't even bother to leave for work, and of course no parties. Even the homeless people seemed to have found another place to stay at.

You didn't realize that numbness was spreading through your legs until the potential male had slowly began to loosen the grip he had on your figure.

Before you had time to think, he had completely let go.

Suddenly you felt dizzy, you couldn't feel your feet, you couldn't feel your legs, you couldn't feel anything.

You could barely feel your legs giving up, nor did you feel your body hitting the ground as you tried to cover up the damage that had been made on your lower stomach.

Regardless the sharp pain in your body that almost made it impossible to breathe and the dizziness that got worse every time you moved, you tried to crawl towards the fence that was just centimeters away.

Your hands bloody from trying to add pressure to your wounds made trails on the asphalt.

You couldn’t tell if you had placed your hands on the right place, considering that the stab wounds were all over the place. And you didn't even dare to look down, because you could guarantee that it wouldn't be a pleasant sight.

Your eyes were starting to close by themselves and you were struggling to keep them open.

Everything hurt.

The pressure you were putting on the wounds was now becoming lighter, your hands didn't seem to have any strength left in them.

Tara would be here soon, you thought, desperately.

She would be here soon, everything would be okay; no more Ghostface attacks, no more Sam hating you, and no more unexpected death cases of your friends.

Your mind focused on Tara.

Her brown hair, her beautiful brown eyes, her dimples and her breathtaking smile. Her voice, her touch, and her joyful laugh.

Your eyes closed, and this time you couldn't stop them. The pressure on your wounds was no longer existent. The color in you was gone. You were gone.

Last thought being the girl you wanted to marry.

***

Tara left the building with a lump in her stomach, as big as a bowling ball.

Her body was filled with worry and guilt, but a part of her felt relief. She was relieved that everything was over now. No more Ghostfaces. She was done with them, truly.

Tara couldn't wait to see you. She was going to tell you that the decision she made was right, that she was happy you stayed behind, because you stayed safe.

But when Danny had walked into the theater, tackling all kinds of officer in his way, he was all alone. You weren't there, you didn't come with him.

Danny told them that the two of you had lost sight of each other rather quickly after they'd left, that you probably just needed to be alone and breathe for a moment.

Tara knew that you would be upset with her, for not allowing you to come with them, for not letting you protect her, like you always told her you would, even if it meant dying.

Although she had hoped for you to at least come to see if she made it out alive.

Danny had called the cops and ambulance to arrive at the place as soon as he got the chance. That's why the only thing in Tara's sight was ambulances, police cars and the fire department.

Chad had miraculously made it out alive, same with Mindy and Kirby. And even though that made Tara want to cry out in happy tears, she couldn't let herself feel anything until she had seen you.

Safe and secure. Like you should've been.

Panic began to rise within Tara as minutes passed without any sight of you.

Sam stood beside her, trying to sooth her younger sister with comforting words. But they didn't make anything better for her.

After the whole showdown, the two Carpenter sister's had talked, really talked.

Sam had tried to explain to Tara that she didn't actually hate you, the opposite really. She thought you were lovely and a perfect match for Tara. But she didn't want to take any risks.

She wanted to show you the walls to her trust weren't easy to break. And then she thought that if she acted rude towards you, you would eventually leave; meaning there was no need for Sam to let her guard down and open up to people she didn't know.

But Sam knew how much Tara loved you, she had been listening to her sister's rambling about you everyday.

That's why Sam could feel her heart sinking down her entire being when her eyes met with a stretcher where a body was placed, a morgue sheet on top of it, which was filled with blood.

Sam prayed that it was somebody else. That you had walked somewhere else to breathe just like Danny had assumed.

She felt the need to distract Tara before she had the chance to see it, but it was too late.

She had already seen it.

Tara screamed out your name in a sob, straight away assuming that you were the person underneath the white cover.

The woman who had been pushing the stretcher had stopped, turning around to try and give the man behind her any sort of information about the deceased individual.

Tara's legs moved faster than she could process, Sam following shortly after.

Heart pounding, hands trembling. With a swift of motion, she grabbed the edge of the wrap and pulled it upward, revealing your pale and peaceful face.

The vibrant hues that once painted your face were now gone, leaving behind a pale and ghostly visage. The colors had been drained from you, you no longer looked like yourself.

Tara could feel herself gasp loudly at the sight, turning around with a hand placed on her mouth.

A surge of sickness overwhelmed her. A gut-wrenching sensation, as if her stomach was about to revolt. She felt like she was on the verge of throwing up, basically feeling the acidic liquids rise within her.

It was you. Her girl. Dead. Gone.

Sam had the same reaction to the sight, gasping and putting her hand on her mouth, preventing from letting out any tears or sounds. Chills running down her spine.

Stop it. Pull it together. Tara. Tara needs you. Sam told herself.

Gaze shifting from your body and the bloody sheet upon you to her younger sister, who was sobbing beside her, about to fall down to her knees.

But when Sam put a hand on Tara's shoulder, she stood straighter. "No!" She shot up, voice raspy.

She looked at you again, but this time not caring for the feeling inside of her throat that threatened her. "She's not dead." Tara spoke again, trying to convince herself that you were alive, that she could save you.

"Tara-" Sam tried, but Tara had no interest in listening to her sister.

"Y/n. Baby, look at me." Tara gently brushed her fingertips against your cheeks, but quickly pulled away when she felt the chill that pierced through her body, for they were once a source of warmth and comfort, now distant and cold.

You were always warm.

The tears streamed down Tara's face, leaving even more mascara smudges on her cheeks, falling and leaving marks on her blue shirt. The shirt that you had gotten her.

"Sam, Come on! help me please" She begged for her big sister's help, still hoping that you could be saved.

At that sentence, the woman who had pushed you turned around, she seemed to have heard Tara's pleads and begs, filled with hope, wishing that you were alive. "Oh honey, this girl has been deceased for over an hour...we can't save her."

The woman spoke apologetically and looked at Tara with sorrowed eyes. "I'm so sorry." She ended. Tara was about to scream at the lady, yell at her and tell them to at least try, you weren't gone. There was no way.

But before Tara got the chance to argue, Sam had pulled her into her chest, embracing Tara with a hug. And at that, Tara broke.

The sobs left her mouth faster than she could take them in, she didn't have any space to breathe.

"She's gone." She cried, her tears staining the older woman's shirt. "And I wasn't there to help her." Tara rambled, talking rapidly before the next sob would escape.

Sam didn't know what to say. She just stroke her younger sister's hair, trying to soothe her sobs.

She had never seen Tara this vulnerable and emotionally ruined, not even when she had reunited with Tara at the hospital the previous year.

Tara's body shook violently as each sob left her mouth.

It was a mistake. It was all a mistake.

Tara had been so confident with her decision only minutes before. She thought she had made the right move.

But it turned out to be the biggest mistake of her life.

A mistake she couldn't take back, and had to live with for the rest of her time alive.

[appleblueberry-pie]

Im back with another yandere satoru request hehehe

So, I was wondereding what would happen if Satoru's beloved found out about his very unhealthy obession with her?

Hold on, lemme cook rq- So, instead of getting the fuck away from him (like most logical people would do) she decides to try her best to get him some help. Like, she'd confront him about his very distirbing behavior, (basically tearing down his entire facade and presenting it to him) and when he's begging her not to be afraid of him, not to abandon him, she tells him that she wants him to get help.

Heres where I kinda got a little stuck....the thing is...he would listen to her every beck and call, but would he really get the help he needs, or would he decieve her and trick her into beliving that he's getting better when in realitly he hasn't changed at all. (He's just alot more careful about what he does behind her back.)

Mkayyy, thats all folks. Thanks for coming to my ted talk.

You kept hearing noises from your backyard.

It woke you up. You couldn't really recognize what it was, but you really hoped it wasn't raccoons eating your berries again. You admit, your garden has many fruits and vegetables, but you certainly didn't want them being eaten. They took too long to grow! So, you got out of bed, threw on your robe over your night gown and quickly made your way downstairs to your backdoor.

When you opened the door and stepped onto the grass, everything seemed fine. Your strawberries were intact. Carrots still growing. No lemons dropped from the tree. But to the far right, you did see a familiar figure continuously puncturing another man's insides with a pretty dangerous looking knife thing.

Someone was in your yard.

Someone was being killed in your yard.

You're within distance of a killer.

By the time the realization set in, the familiar looking man had already saw you staring at him. It was Satoru Gojo.

You both stared at each other. It grew painfully silent and you took a step back, your eyebrows furrowing. You began hearing your heartbeat in your ears and began breathing faster. Your lips separated, probably to scream, and Satoru dropped the knife, immediately running over to you to shut you up in time.

When he trapped you in his arms, you tried to scream in surprise, but he already had one of his hands covering the entire bottom half of your face. "SHHHHHHHhhhhhh. shhhhhhhh. shhhhhh." His heartbeat thumped against your upper back and you tried to look up at him. He was already staring down at you with those big blue eyes and you tried to take his hand off of your mouth. "It's okay, baby. You're alright. It's alright."

Well, he didn't kill you, so clearly you didn't have to be scared. You still tried to talk and he tilted his head. "......you gonna scream if I let you go?" You shook your head. He stared down at you, as if he was trying to catch you in a lie. But then he laughed and finally loosened his hold on you. You took his hand off of your mouth and turned around. "...............Why are you killing someone in my yard?"

He says nothing.

You try to look back at the corpse and he blocks your way. "Fertilizer."

You avert your gaze and hug yourself. "For your tree."

"I already fertilized it two weeks ago. You were there. It doesn't need fertilizer until like a few months later." Satoru goes silent and sighs.

"Alright, babe. You caught me." He stalks closer to you and stops when he's directly in front of you.

"I killed him because he was a terrible waste of space." His smile was unnerving and you only felt more uncomfortable and confused. "What....?" "....He was useless. And he got in the way." The way he spoke made things a little awkward between the two of you. Did this have something to do with you and him? You hoped not. But with the way he said it, and the way he was staring at you began giving you confirmation that this was the case.

"He doesn't deserve you like I do." You inhale sharply and take a step back towards your door. "Satoru-" "No, I'm serious."

"You can't just....kill someone. He's dead!" His shoulders shake as he laughs at your statement. "You think I don't know that? That's the whole point. To die." You shake your head, "I-I need to get you help. This isn't okay. You shouldn't think it's okay to kill someone just to....I don't even know."

"To have you," He states. But you didn't hear. You were already back in the house to research different forms of treatment he could possibly receive. You didn't know what you were going to do with the body.

Satoru did plan to use it as fertilizer.

He lied to you for 12 weeks. And he hated every second of it. He never liked hiding shit from you. Which is why he straight up told you that he killed that dumbass from a while ago. You deserve better than some liar. But he'd be damned if he let some random take you away from him. So, he told you that he was going to the therapist that he been paid off and also killed.

He told you the body was taken care of and you didn't have to worry about it. After all, your tree leaves looked perkier than usual(he didn't tell you that either).

When you heard he was consistently meeting with his therapist, you let him take you out more often. You let him hang out at your place to have sleepovers if you had the time, and you realized that you might have a small crush on him. You shouldn't have a crush on a killer, but here you were. You should've called the police on him a long time ago(not like he'd get rid of them either), but he promised you he'd be good. And he has been. So you trust him.

Satoru learned to stop doing things like being a killer when you're around. It was smart to do it at night. But definitely not where you live. Probably the stupidest thing he's ever done. He should buy that house a few towns off. Everyone would be better off dying in there anyways, especially if there'd be no trace of them in the first place.

He's lucky you're gullible.

[shaunamilfman]

Dating Ghost!Jackie Headcanons

pairing: Jackie Taylor x r note: I'm not sure what this is either 🤷

Jackie being a pain in your ass beyond the grave. maybe not getting on with her super well while she was alive, so while her death was sad, it wasn’t nearly as emotionally devastating as it was for Shauna or someone else. so when you suddenly start seeing Jackie standing behind Shauna and trying to get her attention as she sobs over Jackie’s corpse, you wonder why you of all people would “hallucinate” her.

she finally notices you can see her when you can’t quite muffle your laugh at some petty comment she makes as the girls start carrying her body off to the meatshed. her eyes immediately narrow in on you while you’re just standing like a deer in the headlights.

just thinking about Shauna out there sobbing and crying in the meatshed with Jackie's corpse while Jackie's screaming in your ear because you won’t respond to her and she knows your ass can see her. at the top of her fucking lungs like a damn toddler. keeps switching into songs that give Crystal and Misty a run for their money on being annoying. holding a pillow over your head and groaning to drown her out, and Lottie’s trying to put a hand on your shoulder to comfort you, thinking it's hunger pain or something.

she doesn’t talk as much as she did before—not that she ever really talked to you all that much to begin with. Jackie stares after Shauna a lot, following her around and trying fruitlessly to get her to hear her. she’s quiet a lot now, but if she’s not at Shauna’s side, she’s at yours. 

you finally give up and start answering her whenever you’re mostly alone, claiming it’s just because you’ve accepted that you’re crazy now—though it’s mostly because she just looks so damn sad all the time. she brightens up a lot after this, following you like a lost puppy as you find the emptiest corners of the room to sit in. the other girls sometimes catch you talking to yourself, but with how everyone else is doing, they don’t bother to be concerned about it.

makes it her mission to annoy you as much as humanly possible, commenting on every little thing you’re doing like she’s a game show host. if you have to listen to Jackie narrate the way you eat one more time, you might just join her. always finds the worst time to jump out at you, giggling as she makes you look insane for screaming in shock in the middle of the cabin.

Jackie knocks stuff over whenever the other girls start talking shit about Shauna’s behavior in the meatshed. she doesn’t talk a lot about what Shauna does there, but she always looks strangely flattered when she comes back.

keeps you up to date on all the little drama’s going on in the cabin that you don’t witness. there’s literally no stopping her from eavesdropping on conversations and giving you a play-by-play as they happen. sometimes you just hear a dramatic gasp as her ghostly ass is skipping over to you to tell you about it.

bullies you into giving some of your food to Shauna. Shauna looks at you like you’re crazy but eagerly accepts it all the same. Jackie is standing there looking so proud of herself, like she’s the one that’s going to be starving and not you.

you have weird dreams almost every night. they aren’t unpleasant, just a little strange. they’re always about Jackie, always in places you think she would’ve enjoyed. walking around the mall, passing the ball around on the field, that sort of thing. you don’t think much of it until Jackie mentions something in passing one day about it.

guilt trips you into doing things for her all the time. “Do you remember that time you let me go outside and die in the snow?” and then “yeah, that’s what I thought.” when you roll your eyes and go do it.

thinking about Jackie’s emotions bleeding over onto you. Jackie’s always felt everything so strongly, and this only seems to get worse after she’s died. you can literally feel her longing so strongly that it’ll wake you up in the middle of the night, just to find Jackie staring at you with the softest little look. you aren’t sure how to feel about it at first, but it’s better than feeling her grief.

who’s going to tell the dead girl she can’t have a little crush after all? besides, it’s not like you’re uninterested: Jackie’s the prettiest girl you’ve ever met. it’s a strange dynamic, but it’s not like either of you have a lot of options out here.

just as possessive, even in death. starts getting incredibly jealous whenever you talk to someone who’s alive. Nat’s asking if you’ve seen her headband and the fucking door slams open against the wall. you weren’t even aware she could do something like that. you can feel her eyes burning a hole into the back of your head as the whole room starts to get cold if anyone goes near you besides Shauna.

she always tries to touch you, but most of the time you can’t feel it. the only time you can is when she gets particularly emotional. a hand closing around your wrist and almost pulling you away when she gets particularly jealous about something, a finger brushing away your tears when you can’t help but cry, etc.

Jackie can’t really do much else, so she resorts to a lot of compliments. she compliments your three layers of random shirts like it was an actual fashion choice, and you finally have to draw the line. just thinking about Jackie complimenting you and then sitting cross-legged in front of you like “and now me,” all expectant.

[jxsterr]

i just might not be in the right circles but i don’t think we realise just how fucked up puppet zelda was for link to have to encounter. like the one thing that stuck out to me SPECIFICALLY was the crisis at hyrule castle questline that has link hopelessly run around after something that looks like zelda and sounds enough like her but you know there’s something deeply wrong. it was enough to disturb me when i played through it, just how close her voice was to being correct but being too solemn, being just a little too wispy, too repetitive. there’s so many things about the way she speaks that’s only a little bit off, something that a man like link, blinded and delusional by grief, would miss. he’d know deep down in his gut something is wrong, it sounds so much like her but nothing like her at the same time. every time she beckons for him his chest tightens and he feels sick and he doesn’t know why, but he does deep down. he knows this isn’t her, can’t be her, or that if it is something is deeply wrong and both outcomes are less than desirable. it’s so fucked up because realistically he isn’t going to know if he’s ever going to see her again. for all he knows she could remain wandering the putrid soils of the depths for the rest of time, but here her corpse is, being paraded around as if she truly was zelda when she’s nothing but an imposter in the skin of his lover.

so he runs and runs and fights tooth and nail for her and continuously gets close enough to just about touch her but then she disappears and almost taunts him, tells him she’s waiting and he’s growing frustrated because goddess why won’t you just stay put and let me come to you?? i’m coming, i’m trying but you keep running from me. please stop running from me. his mind is begging, pleading for her, screaming i need you i need you like a lost child because he is without her. he’s lost and a shell of the man he used to be, she is his other half and without her he’s downright nonfunctional. and despite the heartbreak of her constantly disappearing he still keeps trying, keeps following her and grows more and more desperate because he’s so close and now they’re in the sanctum and she’s stopped and maybe this is his chance so he takes a step forward and she’s doing it again. she’s taunting him, dancing around him while all he can do is turn around aimlessly in an attempt to follow her. but even then he doesn’t stop for a moment to think if this is zelda, what she’s doing is cruel because he’s far too hung up on the possibility of her being with him again he doesn’t even stop to get upset at her, doesn’t question why she’s torturing him and keeps his focus on getting to her. it’s things like this that show you why zelda has so much trust that he will be able to defeat ganondorf because he’s never stopped chasing after her and saving the world for her and he never will. she could fall and he would catch her, she could die and he would save her, she could be a husk of who she once was and he would still love her. it’s undying loyalty, unwavering love and determination to make sure she’s okay because to him, zelda is everything.

but then she stops and gets so close he could walk over there and hold her again but it’s a lie. it all was. it’s nothing short of desvastating because even though he knew something was awry it still hurts to be proven right. to have scars so painfully ripped open again knowing that he’s back to square one. the emotional turmoil that that must have put him through had to have been insane, if not soul crushing. he’d be inconsolable, sobbing and cursing the very ground ganondorf stood upon to the point where the sages would have to escort him out of the sanctum only for him to fight them because they’re the only people he can take anything out on right now. but it’s not fair because it’s not their fault, and the way that riju hushes him and does her best to speak soothingly while sidon rubs his back makes him feel all the more guilty. so they all stay there, tulin and yunobo on high alert while link is sat on the ground, knees to his chest and weeping because he was so close. he cries and cries until his throat gives out and he’s dehydrated, until sidon has to scoop him up and take him back to lookout landing and he can’t even bear to tell purah what happened but she already knows. nothing breaks through that tough exterior but the dangled hope of zelda’s return being ripped from him. none of the sages want to leave him in this state, so they camp out in lookout landing. tulin does his best to chatter on about all the cool things he’s been doing to stop link from falling completely numb and shutting everything off and it does kind of work, link cracks the slightest of smiles when tulin tells him how he took out an entire monster hideout by himself. he’s lost his world but maybe he can figure out how to keep fighting for her with friends by his side. he’ll just have to see.

[seduzist]

that love, the crazy kind.

guinevere beck x fem! reader

cw: mentions of sexual harassment, stalking, obsession, murder, blood, smut (just a little), reader is kinda joe in this??? idk but they’re both crazy

beck was just different, different from anything you knew, she was the type of person that enchanted since the first time you saw her, looking for some book at the store you worked at. and since this day, you couldn’t stop thinking about her, stalking her anywhere, watch carefully every step she made.

didn’t take more than 10minutes for you to find out she liked girls, it was all over her social media, likes and shares here and there, it was like she was looking almost desperately for a girlfriend. and it has to be you, you were the one.

and of course, after some months of preparation, you showed beck that undeniable truth, she fall for you easily and just like you thought she was the perfect girlfriend. she was understanding and gentle, she was funny, sexy, lovingly, respectful, smart, and all of the things you’ve ever dreamed of.

everything was just how it should be. guinevere beck was just perfect.

until, that night.

one of her terrible friends invited you both to a stupid bar with stupid people and a stupid guy couldn’t stop looking at you. at first, she maintained her calm and silence, she wasn’t the jealous type, not at all.

she didn’t even lose it when he tried to hit you, asking you if he could buy a drink and giving a little drunk smirk that made she wants to take it off his face.

but when you denied the offer politely, telling him you weren’t interested, he tried to touch you, not your arm, or your hand, he tried to grab you by the waist and give you a kiss. of course you pushed him and told him to “get the fuck off”. he did.

beck was so perfect after this, she driven you home, told you to shower, helped you sleep with a nice mug of tea. she made you feel safe and sound like always, but that wasn’t enough, she had to actually keep you safe.

when you slept, she thought about the whole plan, she could stay with you all night, or she could go back to that stupid bar and make that idiot pay for trying to mess with was hers, and the second option looked way better.

so she got back, it was late at night, she waited in the totally empty and dark parking lot. the establishment wasn’t exactly the type that have cams on it, and by this angle she had the perfect view of who enters or leaves.

two hours passed, but beck was still wide awake, then she saw him, staggering pathetically, so drunk that at every step he didn’t fall could be considered a record.

she gets out of the car, approaching him, faking a smile.

“hi!” she said, getting his attention. “want to see something?”

[…]

when beck got back home, her clothes were drained in semi dry blood and she still had shiverings all over her, she did everything right? she got rid of the murder weapon, she disappeared the body, she made sure to drive back home in the way where there’s no cameras.

when beck took her dirty clothes off and went to a good and long shower, she made sure to take a good look at your sleeping figure, to remind her why she did all of this, it was worth it.

but if she truly trusted you and knew about your past, maybe if she had told you about what she did, you would have the opportunity to tell beck that a corpse floats on water after a few days of death, and that amounts of blood can’t go away in laundry, it must be burned.

when she did wake you up, through, it wasn’t to talk, it wasn’t even purposefully, she was just making noises and shaking the bed, when you looked at your side, you saw her, all naked with a pillow between her thighs.

“beck?” you called and she immediately stopped.

“i’m sorry, i didn’t mean to wake you up, baby.” her voice sounded genuinely sorry, but deep inside you knew she wanted you to wake up.

“it’s okay, keep going.” you whispered back, already sitting on the edge of the bed taking off your pajamas.

you couldn’t take your eyes off of her, her perfect body looked so good while pleasuring herself, you felt eager to touch her, but still undressed yourself slowly as she looked at you, like the sight alone made her even hornier.

when you finished, you get on top of her, taking the pillow off of her hands and kissing her instead, it’s like both of you were starving for each other, you didn’t know what made beck so eager but she certainly was.

you passed one leg through her waist, putting both of your centers together, it felt so good and warm, you couldn’t help but moan against her lips, starting in slow movements against her.

but when you looked down at her, you saw it, a little stain of dry blood just above her chest, you stopped immediately.

“what’s this?” you touched her skin, showing her exactly where it was the stain, she stuttered a few times but after some minutes she told you about everything. she thought you would be mad, or scared, she thought you would leave her, but you didn’t.

that night, you both made love more ferociously and lovingly than ever, for hours until your bodies couldn’t move anymore, that was the night when you and beck recognized you were equal, that isn’t a reason to hide each other’s feelings or personalities. that was the night where you felt like you belonged with someone, for the very first time.

[auroravictorium]

would've, could've, should've (k.b.)

if i never blushed then they could've never whispered about this.

Summary: kaz blames himself for reader's kidnapping, and reader fights back as best she can.

Pairing(s): kaz x fem!reader (established relationship) Word Count: ~3.9k Warnings: heavy violence (kicking, punching, gun is mentioned but not used), mentions of blood, reader is repeatedly knocked out via ether Genre: angst + action

Author's Note: not as much kaz in this one, but fret not! he appears more in the next piece, which is already in the works and should be up in the next few days! i hope you all enjoy!

grishaverse masterlist

(GIF from capinejghafa)

The leatherbound volume slammed against the creaky door of Kaz's office the moment Inej shut it behind her. Splinters rained down onto the floor, and he glared at the mess. 

His gloves were tight against his knuckles, where he gripped his cane, and his chest heaved with fury. Raw anger coursed through him; for once, he could not feel the slime of a corpse against his skin. Instead, rage had set his flesh alight, burning away the feeling of death. The harbor was absent, recoiling in favor of the temper he fought hard to keep in check as much as he could in the Barrel.

Kaz reached for his jar of ink and threw it as hard as he could against the door. But the sight of ink and glass spraying across his office did little to ease his anger or the panic rising in his chest. 

He hunched over his desk, his gloved palms pressing flat against the surface. His breathing was too fast, his shoulders trembling as his mind wandered. Pekka Rollins hired mercenaries to take you. They were taking you south. Who knows what they had planned? Who knows what resources they had at their disposal?

Who knows if a few hours ago would be the last time he ever saw you, and it was tinged by his inability to choke out how he felt? Before you left, you'd squeezed his hand and murmured three simple words.

I love you.

It was funny how three words from your lips made him feel like he wasn't Kaz Brekker, like he didn't regularly hurt people or steal or threaten violence against those who got too close to his business for comfort. With just three words, you made him feel like maybe some part of him could be Kaz Rietveld still.

And he didn't fucking say those words back, though his throat burned and his mouth opened and:

"No mourners," he said instead.

"No funerals," you responded, with no idea how much he wanted to tell you he loved you back. No clue of how the words sat on the tip of his tongue, tasting like the fruit his father pretended he didn't see Kaz and Jordie swiping from the harvest. Tasting like a part of him he thought had drowned, a part that you pulled to shore and put air back into.

He didn't fucking say it. He should've said it.

Kaz squeezed his eyes shut. He could hear you in his mind: Breathe. Think.

He couldn't think, and there wasn't enough oxygen in the room for his lungs. All he could think about was you, at the mercy of some mercenaries who probably didn't give a damn that he was Kaz Brekker and could gut them without blinking. 

Kaz slammed his palms against his desk hard enough that his skin stung beneath his gloves. He grabbed his cane from where it fell and limped around his desk and past the mess of his office. His door trembled on its hinges as he ripped it open and stormed past; he moved over to the crumbling stairs and brought the blunt end of his cane down on a step he knew was particularly creaky.

The entire staircase rattled, and Kaz heard the quiet shuffling of feet as Inej, Jesper, Nina, Wylan, and even Matthias started coming up the stairs. They stopped on the landing when they saw Kaz, shadows cast across his face by a dim oil lamp in the corner and icy eyes darkened by anger, turned the color of the True Sea.

"Mercenaries, you said?" Kaz said quietly, gaze flickering to Inej. "Hired by Pekka Rollins."

Inej nodded, reigniting his fury. But not at her, nor at Jesper. Being angry with them had never crossed his mind, though he saw their haunted faces as they sized him up and tried to figure out how much he blamed them for Y/N's situation.

Kaz clenched his jaw and turned on his heel. "Meeting. Now." He stormed back toward his office and kicked the inky glass shards out of his way as he entered his office. They skidded across the floor, some disappearing beneath furniture, others twirling until their sharpest edges pointed upward.

The Crows piled into Kaz's office. Jesper leaned against the wall with Wylan, ducking his head and looking down at his hands. The hands that, just an hour ago, had shot at mercenaries in an attempt to protect his friend. The hands that failed him. Wylan slipped his hand into one of Jesper's and gave it a gentle squeeze.

Nina sat in the chair across from Kaz's, and Matthias stood within reach. His eyes tracked Kaz as he moved from his desk to the smudged window and back. For once, Matthias could guess what the demjin was thinking, could see it on his face. Kaz was angry, yes, but Matthias could read the terror written beneath from the grip on his cane to the ticking of his jaw.

He found himself sympathetic toward Kaz, and Matthias didn't often feel anything but mild vexation toward the man. As he glanced down at Nina, nervously tracing the shape of her thumbnail with her fingertips, he understood Kaz's fury; if someone took Nina, he would respond the same way. And Kaz would be the first person he'd call to get her back.

"Where do we start?" Inej said quietly, positioning herself at the window and glancing at the street below. She twirled one of her knives across her knuckles, unable to keep her hands still.

"Describe the mercenaries," Kaz finally said. He clenched his fist around the crow's head of his cane as he sat to take the pressure off his leg. It was difficult to sit down; he wanted to be on the streets, burning the city to ashes to find you. But he would be of no use to you if he didn't have a plan and his leg went out beneath him. Think, Brekker. "Then we make a plan, and we get Y/N back."

-

SIX HOURS LATER. NOON.

You awoke to the feeling of a carriage rattling along an uneven gravel road. The back of your head thumped against the carriage window, and your skull ached from the repeated impact against the blacked-out glass. Air seared against your nose and throat with every breath you took, and it was a struggle to open your eyes with the heaviness weighing them down.

Two of your captors sat across from you, their masks on and eyes on you. One held a stained rag and a brown bottle in one hand, and the other pressed a gun to your forehead. Out of instinct, your fingers twitched to disarm him, but you quickly found that your hands were tied behind your back with sailing rope, and your ankles were bound with the same material. The rope chafed against the skin of your wrists and ankles, and it took every ounce of your self-control to not show your fear or pain.

"Now, don't make any sudden moves," the man with the gun said calmly. His voice was thick with an accent. He clearly wasn't from Kerch; you guessed he was a sailor by training and a mercenary by choice, if the rope around your limbs was any evidence. 

You sized him up and considered your immediate instinct to spit in his face. He wouldn't shoot you in close quarters and, if your suspicions were correct, wouldn't dare injure you without a particular gang leader's go-ahead. You didn't have many options, and anything seemed more appealing than sitting there with a gun against your temple.

A wad of spit went straight into his eye, and you swung your legs upward toward his head to jerk yourself into a sitting position. It lacked decorum and grace, but you didn't have much room to move. Unfortunately, your feet only struck the man's shoulder, making him hiss and lower his gun. He shoved your legs off him, and you teetered on the edge of the bench opposite your captors. 

Son of a bitch, you thought. You would've said it aloud had it not been for the man with the bottle opening his cargo and dunking the liquid inside onto the rag in his hand. The sickly sweet smell from earlier struck your nostrils, and you immediately shut your mouth. Your lungs burned as you held your breath, but you refused to pass out again. 

When I get my hands free, I'm gutting you and using you as fish bait. You wiggled around to cause as much mayhem as possible, hoping to distract from the jerking of your shoulders as you fought against your bindings. You brought your feet down on the bottle man's boots, making him grimace and nearly drop the toxin. "She's a fighter, ain't she?" he snarled. "Open her mouth."

The first man lurched toward you, dropping his gun into his lap and grabbing your face with his hands. You writhed, jerking your head to the side to free it as you locked your jaw shut as tight as possible. Your teeth ground together, and black spots danced around your vision from the beginnings of a lack of oxygen. You could either breathe in the toxin that knocked you out or pass out of your own volition; both choices led to you being no closer to escaping.

Save your energy. You didn't want to give in. You didn't want to see your friends' faces swimming in your mind, warped and twisted by whatever your captors were poisoning you with. 

You had no choice. 

You let the man think he had successfully pried your mouth open, and you bit down hard on the flesh between his thumb and forefinger. He roared, jerking his hand back and cursing in Ravkan. His blood filled your mouth, and you gagged on the bitter taste, spluttering to get it off your tongue. It dribbled down your face, onto your clothes.

"Touch me again, and you'll lose the hand," you hissed. You spat at the first man again, and red speckled across his face like grotesque freckles.

With a fierce glare at your captors, you inhaled deeply. The relief of your lungs expanding was quickly counteracted by the weight of the toxin pulling you down, and you collapsed back onto the seat of the carriage, your head colliding with a sickening crack against the door handle.

-

SIX HOURS LATER. DUSK.

The next time you opened your eyes, you were in a dark cell. The rope had been removed from your limbs, but the skin burned from chafing. A searing pain threatened to split your skull in half, and you could hardly turn your head to take in your surroundings.

As your eyes adjusted, you could see a single oil lamp in the corner, unlit and covered in dust. Beside that was a bucket filled with water; you could tell the water wasn't clean from the horrid smell wafting toward you, and you held back a gag. Gingerly, you sat up from the makeshift pallet of ragged blankets you'd been set on.

Bad idea. Immediately, the world swam before you, and a violent wave of nausea overtook you. You swallowed the bile rising in your throat and carefully laid back down to ease the throbbing discomfort in your skull. You pressed a hand to the back of your head, and it came away slick and red. Shit. How were you supposed to fight your way out of here if you couldn't even sit up without the world doing flips?

A metallic clang echoed down the hall, and you turned your head toward the sound. Pain shot down your neck and spine, and you could barely suppress your hiss of pain; your pain was forgotten as a pair of boots stomped into view. You lifted your gaze to find none other than bottle-guy, looking unhappy to have found you awake. He wore no mask this time, and you took the chance to scan his face and memorize every detail so you could describe him if you made a ran for it. Smeared with dirt and grime. Dirty hair of unknown color. He looked like just about every sailor you'd ever met.

He grimaced at you like you were the problem, and you glared back at him. "I was hopin' you'd die in your sleep," he said matter-of-factly. His eyes, dark as night, skimmed your form, and disgust crossed his face. "I can't figure out why we were hired to deal with ya."

"You don't seem to be the brightest bunch," you shot back. You pushed yourself onto your elbows and surveyed your captor with just as much distaste. With some satisfaction, you noted some of his buddy's blood had stained the hem of his trousers after you spat it. "You'll be lucky if Pekka Rollins doesn't have your head after you're done with me, just to cover his tracks."

Your captor barked a laugh. "I'd like to see him try, sweetheart." He drummed his knuckles against the metal bars of your cell, and his eyes roamed over you again. A predatory glint shone in them, and his hand dropped to the ring of keys on his belt. "Now, what makes you special enough that he's willing to hire us instead of doing the dirty work himself?"

He unlocked the door to your cell and stepped inside. You kicked yourself into a sitting position and shoved yourself back against the wall. The world did somersaults, and you fought hard to keep from collapsing again as the blood rushed from your head and black spots danced in your vision.

The man crouched before you and reached out as if he intended to stroke a finger down your cheek. You shoved his hand away and nearly lost your balance. "Don't touch me," you snarled. 

He just laughed again. "Feisty, aren't you?" He reached out again, and you kicked your leg up as hard as possible between his legs. He grunted and dropped his hand, slumping to his knees. 

Taking the opportunity, you pushed yourself forward enough to swing your fist toward his face. With terrible vertigo and the feeling like you were about to collapse into a useless heap, you were pleased when your hand collided with his nose with a satisfying crunch. Blood sprayed across your knuckles and down his face, and he reeled back with a shout of surprise.

"You bitch!" he growled, bringing his hand to his face and glowering at you over his fingers. He lurched forward like he might strike or strangle you, and you kicked out again with much less force than the first time. Your strength was waning, and he knew it. He caught your ankle and pushed your leg away with ease. But before he could get any closer, a hand grabbed the collar of his jacket and hauled him back.

"Now, Sergei, don't antagonize our guest," a new voice said. His voice was quiet and thick with a Fjerdan accent. You looked up while blinking away the blurriness in your gaze and found a third man who hadn't been in the carriage with you. Judging by the ease with which Sergei obeyed him, you knew he was in charge. He reeked of authority and pride.

"What, want the chance to do it yourself?" you snapped. Though he pulled Sergei away before he could bash your head into the wall, you didn't appreciate the man looking down at you like he'd done you a favor. You couldn't help but bristle as his eyes roamed your body, and you would've curled up to cover yourself if you could will your body to move. "I didn't think mercenaries went so low as to kick someone while they're down, especially when they intend to hand them over to someone else."

He wasn't as tolerant of your spite as Sergei was. Without releasing Sergei, he brought his foot down on your knee. The joint seared beneath his weight; your kneecap threatened to shatter, and the tendons nearly snapped as he pressed down until it almost bent in the wrong direction. You cried out, your head falling back against the stone wall. The impact agitated the gash on the back of your head, and you could feel blood soaking your scalp. It seeped down the back of your neck, and a soft groan of pain slipped past your lips.

"It might be wise for you to consider that we can do what we wish to you until Pekka Rollins arrives," he hissed. He dropped Sergei, who gingerly got to his feet with a smirk playing on his lips. If you could, you'd shoot them both to see if they would still be smirking. "I suggest keeping your mouth shut and your limbs to yourself."

A haze of pain clouded your vision, the adrenaline of inflicting some revenge on one of your captors dissipating. You forced yourself to nod, hoping he'd take his weight off your knee before your traitorous tears of agony could fall. You blinked them away, and a trembling sigh escaped you as the Fjerdan stepped back and off your knee. Immediately, you pressed a hand to the tender flesh and whimpered as a sharp ache shot up and down your leg.

Definitely bruised, and the kneecap might be broken. How the hell am I supposed to get out of here like this?

He left without another word, taking Sergei with him. As he passed, Sergei grinned through the bars at you, his teeth glimmering like a monster's, and offered a taunting wiggle of his fingers. You dropped your gaze to the ground and your outstretched legs before you, one swollen and the other scraped from who knows what.

You heard Sergei laugh as he moved down the hall after the Fjerdan leader, and the sound rang in your ears long after he was gone. Mocking, gleeful, haunting.

Tears slid down your cheeks without your permission, and you impatiently wiped them away. There's no time to cry. You thought of Jesper and Inej, who had definitely told Kaz about your disappearance by now. If you thought of them and how strong they were under pressure, maybe you wouldn't think about the searing pain in your body. If you thought of Matthias, damn near unbreakable, perhaps you could channel his strength. Nina, her bravery and wit, no matter the situation.

Your friends, your family, who had to be trying to find you.

Your thoughts drifted to Kaz. His scheming face. His smirk. His fingers laced with yours. The fierceness in his eyes. How he looked at you before you left, with glimmering eyes and hair falling into his face from running his fingers through it too many times. Kaz had looked at you like there were a million things he wanted to say, to do. A rare moment of softness that made your heart ache as you considered where you were now. 

Somehow, you managed to slip into an uneasy sleep. You dreamt of men with masks and blood seeping from your mouth as you inhaled the sickly sweet toxin they kept giving you. Behind the masks, they laughed and laughed, even as you began to choke. It was impossible to break from the nightmare; something held you down, kept your eyes shut.

Finally waking was a mercy, though you should have feared whatever awaited you once you awoke. Blinking slowly and fighting against lingering fatigue, you noticed two bowls of thin broth had been shoved into your cell. The scent had long faded, and dust floated in a thin layer on top. 

How long had it been since you were last awake? 

You forced yourself into a sitting position, ignoring the aching of your muscles, and you investigated your injuries. Your knee was severely bruised and couldn't bear the weight of even your fingertips on the skin, and dried blood crusted your scalp and the back of your neck.

Eat, you thought. You needed to regain some of your strength if you stood a chance at surviving whatever Pekka Rollins had planned for when he arrived. Even better, perhaps you could escape before surviving him was necessary.

You dragged yourself across the stone floor toward the bowls of broth. It felt like your muscles hadn't been used in days, and your right knee dragged painfully against the ground as you crawled to the bars. When you made it, your breathing was ragged, and your face was coated with a thin layer of sweat. It was a struggle to focus on one of the bowls of broth as each throb of your head rattled your vision; you nearly knocked a bowl over but caught it with trembling, clumsy fingers.

What the fuck are they giving me? How have I been weakened so quickly?

You propped yourself up on one arm and used the other to lift a bowl to your lips. The broth felt like acid on your dry mouth, but you forced it down. It tasted like nothing, and you wondered if you would've been better off taking your chances with not eating it.

No. Eat. 

You finished the bowl of broth and reached for the second. Already, some moisture had returned to your mouth. Your mind was less muddled, the fog in your brain cleared by the sensation of something other than the toxin passing your lips. Before you could start sipping the second bowl, you heard boots scraping down the hallway.

Your head snapped up, and you grabbed the two bowls, stacking them and then scrambling backward using your legs and free hand until your back hit the wall. Keep nothing behind me and my eyes ahead. The skin of your fingers whitened as your grip on the bowls grew tighter, and you waited for your visitor to arrive.

For a moment, you couldn't see who it was. A gas lamp shone brightly outside the bars, and you turned your head. Spots twirled in your vision, and you blinked them away. When you opened your eyes, you immediately wished you hadn't. Your second wish was that you had a gun. Your third was that the man before you hadn't been born in the first place.

Pekka Rollins stood outside your cell in a perfectly tailored suit, untouched by blood or dirt. In your state, covered in dirty and torn clothing, you could have felt like nothing more than a bug beneath his glare. 

That was what he wanted, and you wouldn't give him the satisfaction of seeing you crumble.

Instead, you lifted your chin and the full bowl of broth. Feigning bringing it to your lips, you kept your eyes defiantly on him as you took one slow sip. Pekka Rollins just watched with a note of amusement in his eyes. He was too happy to see you before him like this.

His smugness was the match needed to light your anger, and you were all too happy to be ignited.

You launched the bowl across the cell and watched as watered-down broth soaked the front of his suit and slivers of porcelain sprayed into the hallway and onto the floor of your cell.

You only hoped you would get the chance to do worse.

TAGLIST: @tonberry-yoda, @b3kk3r-by-br3kk3r, @futurecorps3, @statsvitenskap, @sapphiccloud, @casualladyinternet, @d34drapunzel, @noctemys, @whitejxsmine, @so6, @franzelt, @ell0ra-br3kk3r, @marlene-the-witch, @thestudiouswanderer, @lyjen, @rideacowb0y, @weasleybuns, @dal-light, @mariatpwk, @dreammgc, @elysian-chaos, @breadbrobin, @poppyflower-22, @halfofagayallofaqueer, @battleraven, @amarokofficial, @tenaciousperfectionunknown, @poppyflower-22

[thatneoncrisis]

oh captain my captain, do you think that modern!harrow would have any issues with being a lesbian considering that she’s a supercatholic?

im sure theres a really long and thoughtful response about this kind of thing but i am of two minds

1. in canon, harrow has little to no reluctance about "sinning." giving her houses structure and her position within it, very few things were off limits to her besides, obviously, the tomb. apropos of fucking nothing, just sheer goddamn self hatred, she decided to try and open it, saying if she couldn't shed just leave drearburh and walk in a random direction (i did this i college once it sure was something). ten she found she dint immediately die upon opening The Locked Door and her suicidal inclination was replaced immediately by feverish curiosity. it was only after a year of dismantling all the traps and getting stumped by the blood ward and the fight with gideon did she actually get inside.

this tells us that she Is willing to commit a sin if she deems it worthy enough, like to subdue her overwhelming guilt about being alive. on top of that once her parents were gone she Immediately went to her nasty book of forbidden necro shit to go puppet them for the next seven years. its mentioned beguiled corpses are taboo but not like, illegal. i think if she was in a position to stop giving a shit shed lez out. in canon she (and the rest of the empire besides the 8th frankly) cared more about pleasing god than any real concept of sin. probably bc lyctorhood in of itself is a sin. so perhaps the answer here is harrow isn't catholic specifically and doesnt care. niche bullshit denomination that never made up rules about gay people because its an apocalypse cult with other shit going on

2. gay and homophobic harrow is really Really funny

[vastderp]

I Had A Baby Brother

My brother was found dead last tuesday in his apartment.

He died anywhere from Sunday to Monday, and his landlord got worried and checked up on him and found him on the floor with one hand over his face. There was an open jug of methanol nearby. My sister thinks he drank it, I pray he didn't. It was an ugly, fucked up death.

He was in declining health this past decade because he was a paraplegic and uncontrolled diabetic. There are systems in place to help with low income people in his condition, but they were barred from him as he was a convicted felon.

He went from learning to walk again in the physical therapy pool to drinking a gallon of vodka per day, growing more hostile and bitter as the pain got worse, until his body just gave out. He drove away his friends, he drove away his family, and then he hit the floor and never got up.

I was meant to view the body with my sister and her grown kids, but the funeral home couldn't tell us where his body had been sent, and stopped answering the phone on friday before memorial day weekend, and then we had to wait for someone to follow up on my sister's dozens of phone messages, which they finally did, to try and make their little profit.

My sister, who has been handling all of this along with my niece, selected a different funeral home for the cremation because the first one was disgraceful with my mother's death in 2007, and they're disgraceful all over again with my brother's now.

At one point today they finally established contact, and asked how my sister wanted to handle the arrangements for her "father". O how casual the not giving a fuck goes! Dude pressed to make a sale even after she told him how unhappy we were with their work.

All this to say that I have a car full of inherited possessions, unused medical gear, and the shitty fucked up remnants of my brother's shrine to Mom.

Good old Mom may have died almost 20 years ago, but her gentle, loving mission to smother her only son to death (and probably into eternity) is finally successful. Of all of us, I've often wondered who got it worst: The golden child, the scapegoat, or the parentalized invisible middle kid. Now that one of us has effectively committed suicide, I guess it's for the scapegoat and me to hash out who gets second place. My mother crippled him long before his car accident, in one long and winding but uninterrupted line of consequences from his birth to death. I consider it a murder-suicide. Which was which? They were both the killer, and both the victim. Enmeshment is a motherfucker.

I'm super bitter, really fucking sad, and incredibly proud of what's left of my family for how they're coming together now. (Except my dad, who is in another state, petting his dogs, because I don't think he can really deal with this shit).

So what's left? To go put some cologne on his corpse when they finally let us go view what's left of him. He always liked to smell nice and he probably doesn't right now.

They'll cremate him, and give us a ridiculously heavy cardboard box of ashes that we'll have to carry out, knowing it's all that's left of a lifetime of struggling and pain. Probably we're gonna mix his ashes with Mom's, and make that lifetime of enmeshment official.

I hope if they go to the same afterlife, he kicks her in the cooter. I hope she kicks him back. I hope they can see each other with eyes unclouded by trauma, and forgive each other for the choices they both made. I hope they forgive me for still being mad at them both for not being stronger. I hope I will forgive myself for a lifetime of resentment and blame. I sure got enough time for that.

Jason was funny, weird, secretly really smart but never made a point of it. He was stylish. He was a broken man who could have made better choices and didn't, who was happily fed poison until he couldn't live without it, who was basically his own whole ass Pink Floyd song. His violence sent me running into a better life. His death sent me trudging back into a damaged family with gaping holes like torn out teeth, into the arms of my sister, and we reconciled. There's just us two left now, and it's our job to make something beautiful come out of this jerry springer childhood we shared. We're doing our best.

Dozens of catheters still in the package. Leakproof bed padding in a plaid pattern. Gallons of creams, antacids, fiber supplements by the jar, pressure sore ointments, fungus treatment creams, lidocaine pads, antibiotics, antipsychotics, a hash pipe or two.

An entire apartment hoarded with moist towelettes, pressure garments, and cleaning supplies. An entire life choked with mental damages and crying relatives. I put on CeeLoo Green's "Robin Williams" and sobbed until my face felt burned. It helped.

All the usable/safe to give away medical equipment is being distributed to the other impoverished disabled people in his apartment complex, who will hopefully put it to good use. I got his old manual wheelchair because sometimes I can't walk. I'm terrified of becoming more like him, so back to phsycial therapy I go.

The rest?

The memories, the pity, the jug of methanol that I pray he never actually drank, the stain he left on his floor after a lifetime of compulsive tidiness, the shrine to the woman he killed who also killed him? All these things I will keep with me forever. I will honor him. He could have been so much more, for so much longer. He had a whole story I'll never know. He contained incredible kindness and generosity, and also a rage so deep it was fatal. He was only 41.

If you can spare a couple bucks for the gofundme my niece set up, it'd really help make the financial side of this horseshit a little more bearable while we do all the shit that comes with a death. Thank you for taking the time to read this post, for your sympathies, and for reading my fucked up family trauma dump. Rest assured there will be more.

Dear god, will there ever be more.

Send help. Send pizza. Send sad hip hop. Hail Atlantis. Hail Jai.

[transmascissues]

hey i know your post about your mom was mostly just a personal vent, but i have to say, do you realize that also happens with trans girls and their fathers? literally happened to one of my friends. i’m not trying to downplay your experience or something but i found it strange that you seem to think this is something that only affects transmascs

i have one question for you: so fucking what?

i don’t doubt that trans girls have experienced similar things and yeah, that’s bad too, but what the fuck does that have to do with me and the specific things i’m facing as a result of being a trans man? i never said “look at this thing that happens to ONLY trans men and NO ONE ELSE,” i just said “hey, isn’t this thing that happens to a lot of trans men, including myself, fucked up?”

i would also like to point out that what you’re talking about is in fact a different (albeit similar) thing. the way cis people treat trans people can differ dramatically based on the cis person’s gender because their commitment to gender roles is, like, a major part of problem. the specific way a cis mother reacts to her trans son’s transition is often going to be very distinct, while a cis father will likely respond to his trans daughter in a different but equally distinct way.

what i’m talking about is a very specific kind of ownership and control and self-victimization and total lack of boundaries masquerading as love and care and maternal concern that cis women (i would argue white cis women in particular) project onto their transmasc kids when we do literally anything to our bodies. i’m talking about a phenomenon which is closely related to the way moms often pass eating disorders onto their daughters (or children they view as daughters) because they see a body that looks something like theirs and project all of their insecurities and ideals onto it. i’m talking about a form of parental transphobia and projection that’s specific to the dynamic of a cis mother and her child who was “supposed to” be her daughter.

if you’ve never felt that, you’re not even remotely qualified to tell me shit about how i should be talking about that experience, and if you couldn’t recognize that experience when you read my post, i’m guessing you probably haven’t experienced it because the replies to that post made it very clear to me that anyone who has experienced it firsthand immediately knew exactly what i meant.

like, yeah, cis dads also project onto their trans daughters, but are they likely to have a reaction like running away with actual tears streaming down their face? do you expect them to passive aggressively make comments about how sad their kid’s transition makes them, how it’s such a difficult emotional time, how it’s so tragic because their kid’s body was so beautiful before? do you think their go-to transphobic reaction will be weaponizing their emotions? i’m sure there are some dads out there who are like that, but i think we can agree they’re in the minority because that’s not how cis men are taught to react and parents like this tend to be pretty damn committed to following the gender roles they were taught.

and even if i’m wrong and our experiences are exactly the same, let me reiterate that i never said this was an experience exclusive to trans men. all i said is that it happens to us. that’s just a statement of objective fact.

this started in my life when i got my hair cut short for the first time almost a decade ago and it has not stopped since. i’ve watched my mom cry over me changing my name and respond to being asked if my happiness matters more to her than my name by saying “i care about both”, i’ve watched her melt down in a mall over me getting a suit for prom and give me the silent treatment for days after, i’ve heard her plead with me to stop t because it “looks unnatural” and she’s just so “concerned for my health”, i’ve watched her stare at me post-op and say “my poor baby” over and over like she’s looking at my corpse in a casket. i’ve watched her turn herself into the victim of every single aspect of my transition. i’ve had to live with this for 9 years and spent the early years of the pandemic literally locked in a house with it. this has been my entire adolescent and adult life, and the question of if i’ll have to cut her off someday (and maybe never see my cat or my little cousins who i love more than anything in the world ever again as a result) haunts me every single day.

who the fuck are you to tell me how to talk about that?

[columboposting]

I say this as a certified gwen cooper stan and defender and lover etc etc so if i see anyone in my replies coming for my girl its on sight. But it is honestly completely batshit insane to me the way seasons 1 and 2 of torchwood consistently do this thing where on-screen development or depiction of Jack and Ianto’s romantic relationship is directly preceded by a category five Gwen and Jack Unresolved Sexual Tension event. Like, Jack propositioning Ianto over Suzie’s corpse comes right after a scene where Jack and Gwen make moon eyes at each other from across the Hub; in Kiss Kiss Bang Bang Jack only asks Ianto out on a date after a failed attempt to woo Gwen; in Reset, Martha’s conversation with Ianto about getting him and Jack a red UNIT hat comes after her convo with Gwen where both of them are like “man we must be the only two people in the world who havent been with Jack.” The obviously most insane example is in Something Borrowed when Gwen and Jack dance together extremely intimately AT GWEN’S WEDDING and Ianto literally has to WALK OVER to take Jack off Gwen’s hands. (If I missed any more examples please tell me because i feel like I did. Also Fwiw not every Janto scene follows a Gwack UST event, though by the same turn not every Gwack UST event is followed by a Janto scene. But I think there’s enough here for it to be a pattern.). So there’s this consistent thing where we see Jack make moon eyes at Gwen and only going to Ianto after this fails to result in anything substantial. This creates the impression that Ianto is Jack’s second choice for a partner, and that Gwen is his first.

You could argue that this pattern constitutes Jack choosing Ianto over Gwen, but… I dunno. The obstacle that consistently stops Jack from pursuing Gwen further in the scenes I’m talking about is not his commitment to Ianto but Gwen’s commitment to Rhys. (If you want an example of TW S1/2 actually showing Jack choose Ianto over Gwen I’d point at End of Days: Gwen metaphorically awakens Jack by kissing his corpse (he doesn’t seem to object but Gwen is obviously the one initiating), and then Jack immediately runs off to make out with Ianto. Compare with, say, Kiss Kiss Bang Bang, where Jack tries to initiate with Gwen, gets cock-blocked by her engagement ring, and subsequently asks Ianto out. You see the difference?

To set my cards on the table I am obsessed with Jack and Gwen’s straightbait situationship, and I think it is completely fine and cool and entertaining, actually, for Jack and Gwen UST to coexist with canon Janto (Jack is from the Free Love century and has two hands; meanwhile it baffles me that people get on Gwen’s ass for the crime of (checks notes) being into Jack Fucking Harkness, as if being attracted to him is not completely normal and understandable), HOWEVER the show’s scene to scene editing CONSISTENTLY gives the impression that Jack would choose Gwen over Ianto if given the opportunity. So for all that I think a lot of Gwen hate is like, people being unfairly mad at Gwen for “getting in the way” of a gay ship that, per the show’s writing, she never actively interferes with or disapproves of and is generally shown to support, the way the show uses the language of editing does actually kind of value Jack’s hypothetical straight relationship with Gwen over his existing gay relationship with Ianto in a way that frankly fucking sucks. I have no idea whether or not this was intentional or whose fault it is (if I had to blame anyone I’d blame the writers involved and the editors involved, but tv production is complicated and this is a systemic problem that would be difficult to identify if you’re only looking at one episode at a time) but whatever happened its like. A lowkey homophobic element of an otherwise mostly queer-friendly show. Literally what were they thinking.

[deep-fried-egg]

She never got to say sorry

CW: angst, major death, very short, breakups

"Yes y/n! I don't love you anymore! I love Chad! Why can't you just leave my apartment now!" Tara yelled at her now ex girlfriend.

"What the fuck Tara! You can't fucking kick me out of the house like that!" Y/n screamed back. "Besides, you're the one who was cheating!" Y/n shouted with tears in her eyes.

"Whatever.  I'm leaving now." As y/n was leaving Tara decided to tell her one more thing just to add salt to the wound.

"Whatever! I didn't even love you anyway! I was just using you to get closer to Chad." Tara spat. Y/n could feel her heart shatter to pieces. "Tara-" Before she could say anything else Tara had already slammed the door.

She felt betrayed, angry, and hurt all at the same time. How could she? How could she just say she never had real feelings for me like that?  What is wrong with people these days!? She thought bitterly as she walked down the street. Her phone dinged signaling an incoming call.

Y/n sighed in frustration before answering the call right before hearing a familiar voice...

"What's your favorite scary movie?"

~

I pounded on Sam's door literally BEGGING to be let in Because ghostface is chasing me.  Luckily as soon as Sam heard the name ghostface she slammed the door open and let me in.  Bless her soul.

Sam locked the door and told me to go to the bathroom to hide . I nodded in thanks as I went into her bedroom. It had a large window facing the neighbors apartment and luckily Sam was good "friends" with the man.

I heard a blood curdling scream from the kitchen so I peeked my head out And saw ghostface on top of Sam trying to stab her but Sam was using all of her strength to push the knife away from her face.

I gathered all of my courage and hit ghostface in the back of his head with a potted plant which luckily gave me enough time to bring Sam and Tara into the bathroom with me to hide.

Ghostface started twisting the door handle trying to get it open But that only lasted for a couple seconds as the kind neighbor opened the window because somehow he KNEW ghostface was after us??

He signaled for us to open our window as well so we did and the man put a ladder in between the gap of the two windows.

Sam quickly made it across with no trouble and so did Tara but when it came to me... ghostface already bursted into the room and slashed my arm with his knife.

I quickly got onto the ladder but Ghostface grabbed one end of the ladder and started to aggressively move it while Sam, Tara and Sam's "friend" tried to hold the ladder still.

I let out a loud sob at the thought of death in such a cruel way and I stopped moving.  Ghostface tilted the ladder to the left as soon as my grip loosened  and I fell off.

I quickly tried grabbed onto the nearest surface but I failed.  My loud scream rang through the small alleyway and I felt a stinging pain when my face slammed against the side of a dumpster leaving a crisscross pattern on the right side of my face.

All of my friends had to watch this happen to me.  All of them except ghostface, apparently.  He didn't seem to care as he walked away from the gruesome scene.

As Tara looked down at my corpse laying on the sidewalk below her she Covered her mouth and ran to the nearest garbage bin to throw up into it.

As soon as she finished puking the trio walked downstairs and to the alleyway and Tara immediately ran up to my dead body laying on the concrete and she shook me trying to "wake me up" but deep down she knew I'm dead...

"Please Y/n! Fuck I'm so sorry! I'm sorry for everything I said please... please forgive me!" Tara cried as she clung to me, trying to listen for a heartbeat for some type of closure that I'm still alive but she found none...

"Come on Tara...we have to call the police." Sam pulled her sister away from my corpse while crying some tears of her own.

Tara reluctantly Let herself be separated from me  by her friends as she stared at my lifeless body until the paramedics arrived. She held back her tears all the way until they finally took away my body. Tara watched with bated breath, hoping it wasn't over yet until they placed me in the body bag and rolled me away to the ambulance.

[kokoch4n3l]

DEAD GIRL'S BEACH࿐ྂ KUROKAWA IZANA x f!oc x SANO MANJIRO

ELEVEN — what was i made for?

"There's a chilling sense of control in Mr.Kurokawa's demeanour, as if he's always one step ahead, anticipating the reactions of those around him. It's as if he views the world as his own personal chessboard, with everyone else merely playing their roles." —MAYA'S ROUGH NOTES ON K.I

chapter summary: Izana gets carried away and Kakucho and Maya do damage control, bringing them right back to the start.

warnings: dark content 18+, character death, depiction of corpses, corruption, slight religious themes, suicide mention, suicide attempt, suicide ideation, self-loathing, slight hanagaki takemichi slander, scarring, bite marks, implied relapse, drug use/misuse, mentioned drug addiction, withdrawal symptoms for unnamed drug, possibly unrealistic/inaccurate withdrawal care, possessive!izana, betrayal, mentions of past torture methods(noncon drugging, waterboarding, noncon, noncon waxplay, first degree burns), emotional manipulation, mental health issues, MAJOR dubcon, unprotected sex, no prep, piv, making out, nipple play, hair pulling(m), multiple orgasms, tummy bulge, creampie, implied cockwarming, implied dissociation, aftercare, possessive!manjiro, noncon, mirror sex, coercion, forced orgasms, hair pulling(f)

word count: 13774

masterlist | previous | chapter 12

Naoto often thinks about Maya. When he starts thinking about her, he doesn't stop. He thinks about her death, goes through the evidence over and over and doesn't stop till Hinata tells him that it was enough. But just how was he to explain to his sister that things didn't add up with Maya's death when the only answer he'll get from Hinata is: "You're looking too deep into it... I know you liked her but you're feeling guilty... that's all"

His poor sweet sister. Hinata had no idea she was hanging out with people that are affiliated with the gang that caused her death in 5 other timelines. Naoto is frustrated and there is no one he can confide in. Alone with his thoughts, Naoto finds himself consumed by a sense of helplessness, a gnawing frustration at his inability to uncover the truth and protect those he cares about. Maya's memory haunts him, her death a stark reminder of the dangers lurking beneath the surface of their seemingly ordinary lives.

As Naoto meticulously pores over the evidence from the scene of Maya's supposed suicide, his keen eyes catch a crucial detail that sends a chill down his spine. In the photographs of Maya's charred remains, one glaring absence stands out—a distinct lack of the necklaces she always wore. Furrowing his brow, Naoto zooms in on the images, scrutinizing every pixel for any sign of the delicate chains that adorned Maya's neck without fail. But no matter how closely he looks, there's no trace of it, not even a glimmer in the ashes.

It's a discrepancy that can't be ignored. Maya cherished those necklaces— they were real gold. She wore it every day, never once removing it so why wouldn't it be here or in the evidence or among her stuff recovered from the apartment she booked? Maya fucking loved those necklaces so there was no way she wouldn't be wearing them.

The realization hits Naoto like a ton of bricks. This isn't just an oversight—it's a deliberate omission, a glaring inconsistency that casts doubt on the official narrative surrounding Maya's death. With a sinking feeling in his gut, Naoto realizes the implications of this omission. If Maya's necklace isn't among the evidence, then it's possible that her death wasn't a suicide at all—it could have been staged.

As he sifts through the photos once more, Naoto's mind races with possibilities. Was Maya's death orchestrated to look like a suicide? And if so, who would go to such lengths to cover up the truth? The pieces of the puzzle start to come together in Naoto's mind. Kurokawa Izana was discharged the same day the hospital director of Sunshine Grove reigned and disappeared off the face of the earth, the other employees resigning and disappearing as well and that day being the last Maya is seen. But who would benefit from Maya's death, and why?

Could Kurokawa Izana be connected to Maya's disappearance? And if so, what role did he play in her supposed death?

But as Naoto considers the pieces of the puzzle, a new, daring possibility takes root in his mind. What if Maya isn't actually dead? What if she's still out there, waiting to be found?

The idea ignites a spark of hope within Naoto, driving him to redouble his efforts in unravelling the truth behind Maya's disappearance. With determination burning in his heart, he sets out to follow this new lead, determined to uncover the fate of the woman who has captured his thoughts and haunted his dreams.

(At this point, no one could be trusted. Not even Matsuno Chifuyu and Hanemiya Kazutora. Anyone wit affiliations with the Tokyo Manji gang, whether present or past, was now a threat.)

Maya's mother was a surgeon and her father was a mechanical engineer. They weren't exactly religious either. Maya wonders if they were, would she be going through this?  As Maya ponders her parents' professions and lack of religious affiliation, a wave of nostalgia washes over her. Memories of her childhood flood back, painting vivid scenes of her family's home and the moments they shared together. Her father, with his tinkering tools and inventive mind, would regale her with tales of his latest engineering projects, sparking her curiosity and igniting her imagination. Their home was a sanctuary—a place of warmth, love, and acceptance. Maya was free to explore her interests, pursue her dreams, and chart her own course in life. It was a far cry from the dark and twisted world she finds herself trapped in now. But as Maya reflects on her upbringing, a sense of longing creeps into her heart. She yearns for the safety and security of her parents' embrace, for the comfort of their words and the strength of their presence.

She feels worse as she realizes she no longer remembers what their faces looked like or how their voices sounded. It had been so long since her father's passing and her mother's suicide. She was 13 then and now she's 22. As Maya grapples with the weight of her memories, a profound sense of loss settles over her like a heavy blanket. The passage of time has blurred the lines between reality and remembrance, erasing the sharp edges of her parents' faces and the cadence of their voices from her mind. She closes her eyes, trying in vain to conjure up their images, to recall the sound of their laughter and the warmth of their embraces. But all she finds is an empty void— a void filled with echoes of the past, faint whispers of a time long gone. At this point, she might as well have been an orphan all her life.

But her parents loved her of course.

Her father loved her.

Her mother loved her.

But her mother didn't love her enough to stay alive after the passing of her husband.

Maya had never been enough for anyone— not even her own parents. Part of her hates Chifuyu. Just why did he have to be at the park the evening she was going to kill herself? Dying would have saved her from a whole bunch of pain. She wouldn't have lost her virginity to Chifuyu and been rejected, she wouldn't have been drugged, and she wouldn't have been kidnapped out of her fucking workplace, waterboarded, tortured, burned, and then betrayed by a false saviour.

No one in this stupid beach house had made anything easier for her. Not Izana, not Mikey, not even Kakucho.

Kakucho had seemed like a healer at first— reviving her after Izana drowned her, constantly patching her back together, helping her with the burns on her back. But at the end of the day, he was still a gangster, he was still Izana's closest aid, and he was still the dark knight. Not her knight in shining armour but Izana's dark knight with dented and bloody armour.

Kakucho is not a friend and might as well be someone involved in Izana's ploys of breaking down her spirit and betraying her. Maya could care less about who Kakucho thinks she's like. She isn't that guy. She's her own person. She refuses to let Kakucho's nostalgia for whatever childhood friend he lost shape her future or how and why she runs from Mikey and Izana. That other guy that ran just seemed like a damn coward. Running because he didn't like where Tokyo Manji Gang was headed, running even though he had so much influence over Sano "Mikey" Manjiro, running when there was no actual threat to his life.

Maya hates him.

She hates him, Kakucho, Izana and Mikey.

Fuck all of them.

Fuck that motherfucker, fuck Kakucho, fuck Izana, fuck Mikey, fuck Chifuyu, fuck Kazutora, fuck the Tokyo Fucking Manji Gang. She hates all of them and hopes they all go to hell. She hates them all for making them feel this way.

She always had so much love but nowhere to put it. It's as if she's been searching for something or someone to share her love with, but each time she reaches out, she's met with rejection or betrayal. Whenever there is someone to love, they suck it out of her greedily. Just keeping taking and taking and taking till there's nothing left to take. Maybe it's her own fault. She wore her heart out on her sleeve and just gave love to everyone that wanted it. Why did being kind and loving only give her pain in return? Why did everyone like to only take from her?

Why is it that she never learned her lesson after getting he heart torn out over and over.

"Maya..." Kakucho is at the door of the master bedroom

It's early in the morning, about 9:30 am, she feels like actual shit even after showering. The bite mark on her shoulder from Izana has healed but it will scar. "Yes?" She asks

Mikey was still out with Sanzu for some business thing. Apparently, he'd be returning either today or tomorrow. "Uh well..." Kakucho looks nervous and stressed

His hair is a mess and he's wearing his glasses. He wasn't even dressed yet. "So uh... Izana is having withdrawals..."

Maya's eye twitches in annoyance, her inner doctor coming back after so long. "and who's amazing idea was it to give drugs to a recently recovered addict?"

Kakucho just shifts uncomfortablely. "please can you just... can you come help me? You're a psychiatrist and you helped him before at the other hospital... You can do it now too"

Maya's muscles tense as Kakucho's words sink in, her frustration bubbling to the surface. Dealing with Izana's withdrawals is the last thing she wants to do, especially after the ordeal she's been through herself. But she knows she can't ignore Kakucho's plea, no matter how inconvenient it may be. Taking a deep breath to steady herself, Maya meets Kakucho's gaze with a resigned expression. "Fine," she concedes reluctantly. "I'll help."

As they make their way towards Izana's room, Maya can't shake the feeling of dread settling in her stomach. Dealing with Izana in this state is bound to be challenging, to say the least. But Maya knows she has to do whatever it takes to prevent the situation from worsening. Maybe she doesn't like him but as a doctor, she has an obligation. As she steps out of the master bedroom she realizes this was the first time she had been out of the room. The house was decorated similarly to Mikey's bedroom with huge windows displaying the beach outside and just an overall homey feel. She never thought a place like this would be her prison. Kakucho leads her to Izana's room and Maya hesitates. She could run now. She really could. There was no one else here but her poor weak heart would just feel too much guilt.

stupid stupid stupid stupid stupid stupid stupid stupid she keeps thinking as she enters Izana's room. The blinds and curtains were drawn and the lights were off. There is a lump under the covers and if she looked close enough Maya could see it trembling. She hadn't been present for the start of when Izana was admitted into Sunshine Grove. She didn't know what his withdrawal symptoms were or how he was doing through it. She was only there during the detox. This right here, was new territory. "what are his symptoms?" Maya asks quietly to Kakucho

"um... similar to yours but no hot flashes. Just cold and he's got really bad mood swings" Kakucho says looking really nervous "Headaches, he threw up earlier... Uh... He was hungry..."

Maya nods and reluctantly walks over to Izana and kneels on the bed next to the lump under the comforter he is under. She feels a knot form in her stomach as she realizes the weight of the situation she's stepping into. This isn't just about providing medical care; it's about navigating the delicate balance of emotions and power dynamics that exist between her and Izana. Gathering her resolve, Maya gently pulled back the covers to reveal Izana curled up beneath them. His breathing is shallow and uneven, his face drawn with discomfort. Despite her own reservations, Maya can't help but feel a pang of sympathy for him in this vulnerable state.

Oh god did she feel so stupid.

Taking a deep breath to steady herself, Maya reaches out to brush a lock of white hair away from Izana's forehead. His skin feels clammy to the touch, and she can sense the tension radiating from his body. "Hey," Maya murmurs softly, her voice barely above a whisper

Izana's response is a low, guttural groan as he shifts restlessly beneath the covers. Maya sighs inwardly, steeling herself for the challenges that lie ahead. This won't be easy. She flinches when he suddenly grabs her hand and presses it to his cheek. He shudders and mumbles something unintelligible under his breath. Maya watches as he curls into himself, his breath coming in ragged gasps. Had she been like Izana, she would have made him beg like he did to her. But she isn't like Izana so instead she asks "Does your head hurt?"

As Maya waits for a response, she can see the struggle playing out on Izana's face. His brows furrow in discomfort, his teeth chattering slightly as he curls tighter under the covers. She senses his agitation, the chill seeping into his bones and exacerbating his withdrawal symptoms. Finally, Izana manages a hoarse denial, his voice strained. "N-No," he stammers, his breath coming out in shaky puffs. "I'm f-feeling really f-fucking c-cold."

Maya's heart aches at his words, her empathy for him warring with the lingering resentment she harbours. Before Maya could say anything, Izana suddenly sat up and pulled off his hoodie, throwing it to the floor and leaving him in just a white undershirt. "Izana what are you—"

Before Kakucho can even finish his sentence, Izana is pulling Maya down onto the bed, laying on top of her. "H-Hey—" she tries to say

"Shut up" Izana mutters, his face buried into the crook of her neck "You're warm"

Maya's initial instinct is to push him away, to resist his sudden closeness, but she finds herself frozen in place as Izana's weight presses down on her. His warmth envelops her, a stark contrast to the coldness that had gripped him moments ago."Izana, this isn't—" Maya tries, but her protest is cut short by another one of Izana's hushed commands.

His words send a shiver down her spine, but she can't deny the underlying vulnerability in his tone. For a moment, Maya hesitates, unsure of how to respond to Izana's unexpected gesture. A big part of her wants to push him away, belittle and humiliate him the same way he did to her but... Maya was too weak. She couldn't get herself to do that to him and Maya hated herself for it. Instead, she avoids Kakucho's gaze and pulls the blanket further up Izana's shoulders, covering his bare arms and his exposed shoulders. "Do you... Need anything?" Kakucho asks slowly

"No..." Is all Maya says

Kakucho nods and leaves. A shudder goes through Izana as he clings to Maya tight. She goes stiff when his hands slide under her shirt and rest on her ribs. His skin is cold to the touch. Maya wants to belittle him. She wants to make him beg. She wants to humiliate him. But she can't get herself to and it's probably the worst feeling ever. She was never an eye for an eye person. She wasn't like that. Maya was too nice for her own good, even at her own expense. So instead of doing all the horrible things she wishes to do, Maya wraps her arms around Izana's shoulders, running the nails of one hand up and down the back of his neck. Izana sighs and just rests all his weight on her.

In the quiet of the room, Maya finds herself grappling with conflicting emotions. She's torn between the desire to protect herself and the innate compassion that compels her to offer comfort to Izana in his time of need. It's a battle she's fought countless times before, and yet, each time, it leaves her feeling conflicted and uncertain. But as she feels Izana's breath steady against her skin, his grip loosening ever so slightly as he starts to fall asleep on top of her, Maya finds herself relenting to the quiet intimacy of the moment. With a heavy heart, Maya resigns herself to the role of reluctant caretaker, knowing that she's bound by duty to tend to Izana's needs, even as she struggles to reconcile her conflicting emotions. And as they lie entwined in the darkness, Maya can't help but wonder how they ended up here, bound together by threads of fate and circumstance, their destinies intertwined in ways they never could have imagined.

She's just there, in his bed, crushed under all his body weight, pinned between him and the mattress with his cold hands under her shirt looking for warmth and face in the crook on her neck. She shifts slightly, trying to find a more comfortable position beneath him, but his grip remains firm, holding her in place against the mattress. The intimacy of the moment hangs heavy in the air, the warmth of their bodies mingling in the confined space of the bed. Maya can feel the steady rhythm of Izana's breath against her skin, the soft brush of his lips against the curve of her neck sending shivers down her spine.

Despite the tangled mess of emotions swirling within her, Maya finds herself instinctively running her fingers through Izana's hair, the strands soft against her touch. With each gentle stroke, she feels a strange sense of calm wash over her, a fleeting moment of peace amidst the chaos that surrounds them. Izana lets out a low, contented sigh at her touch, his grip on her softening ever so slightly. His breath tickles the sensitive skin of her neck as he nuzzles closer, seeking solace in her warmth. It isn't long till the shivering stops and he has fallen asleep, completely lax on top of her and crushing her with his weight. He's pressing down on her ribs and it's hard to breathe but Maya doesn't dare complain.

They come back a full circle.

Izana as the patient and Maya as the doctor.

This time, there was no pristine white doctor's coat, secure rooms with magnetic locks, CCTV cameras or security guards— only this time, she knew what was wrong with him.

There was just Maya and Izana and her all-too-soft heart.

"Why did you cut your hair?" Izana asks, lazily twirling a short curly strand of Maya's hair between his fingers

Hours later he was awake and was making no move to get off her. Maya hesitates for a moment, caught off guard by the unexpected question. She shifts slightly beneath Izana's weight, the pressure of his body against hers a constant reminder of their closeness. "I... I needed a change" she replies softly, her fingers still idly tracing patterns on the back of his neck.

Izana hums in response, his grip on her tightening ever so slightly. His other hand is still under her shirt, no longer cold thanks to her body heat. "Is it 'cause Matsuno broke your heart?" He asks casually "I heard girls cut their hair when they get their heart broken"

Maya's breath catches in her throat at the mention of Chifuyu. She hadn't expected Izana to bring him up, especially not in this vulnerable moment. How is it that Izana is still vying for control even while he's so vulnerable? She closes her eyes briefly, gathering her thoughts before responding. "Yes..." there was no point in lying to him when he already knew the truth— having forced it out of her weeks ago "I wanted to forget everything Chifuyu said about me so I cut my hair... Someone once told me hair holds memory so I cut it and then I felt better..."

Maya's admission hangs heavy in the air, the weight of her words settling between them like an unspoken truth. Izana's fingers pause in their gentle exploration of her hair, his gaze searching hers with a mixture of curiosity and something else she can't quite decipher. "I see," he murmurs, his tone neutral but his eyes betraying a hint of something deeper "But I have to admit, I liked your hair long much better. It suited you. I was pretty disappointed when I saw you cut it so short"

Maya's heart flutters nervously at Izana's unexpected confession, his words stirring up a whirlwind of conflicting emotions within her. She hadn't anticipated him expressing any sentiment about her appearance, let alone disappointment over her haircut she did herself weeks ago. It's a strange sensation, hearing him speak so candidly about something as trivial as her hair when there are far weightier matters hanging between them. "Sorry to disappoint," Maya murmurs, a faint hint of sarcasm lacing her words as she avoids meeting his gaze or just looking down at him in general while he's lying on her chest

She's acutely aware of the warmth of his body pressed against hers, the way his fingers linger in her hair, and it's all she can do to keep her composure in the face of such unexpected intimacy. Izana chuckles softly, the sound sending a shiver down Maya's spine. "No need to apologize," he replies, his tone light but tinged with something that feels uncomfortably like possessiveness "but don't cut it again, alright? I want you to grow it out long"

That wasn't a suggestion but a demand. Maya's heart sinks as she recalls the promise she made to Izana, the weight of it settling heavily on her shoulders. She had vowed to be his, to submit to his desires, and in that moment, it felt like there was no escaping the hold he had over her. With a resigned sigh, she nods slowly, her voice barely above a whisper as she agrees to grow her hair out. "Okay," she murmurs, her tone heavy with defeat as she concedes to Izana's demand. "I'll grow it out."

Izana's grip on her hair loosens slightly, a satisfied smirk playing on his lips as he leans back, his gaze lingering on her with a possessive gleam. "Good girl" he purrs, his words sending a shiver down Maya's spine

She wonders just how absolutely shameless this guy could be. Just hours before he was shivering and trembling, desperately curling into her arms for warmth and now he was being a little shit again as if none of it happened. Izana shifts himself more so he's fully on top of her again, crushing her ribs, knocking the breath out of her lungs, his thigh pressed between her legs. "You're so sweet to me, y'know that bunny" Izana murmurs, his face in Maya's neck again, lips brushing against her skin "Came here to take care of me... So sweet"

Maya's breath catches in her throat as Izana's weight presses down on her, his closeness suffocating yet strangely comforting. She can feel the heat radiating off his body, the tension in his muscles palpable against her skin. Despite the discomfort of his position, Maya finds herself unable to push him away, her resolve weakening under the weight of his words. "I... I just want to help," she stammers, her voice barely above a whisper as she struggles to maintain her composure.

The intimacy of the moment leaves her feeling exposed and vulnerable, her heart racing with a mixture of fear and uncertainty. Izana's lips brush against the sensitive skin of her neck, sending shivers down Maya's spine as she tries to suppress a gasp. His touch is both electrifying and terrifying, a potent reminder of the power he holds over her. "You're so good to me, bunny," he murmurs, his voice low and husky against her skin. "So sweet."

He goes still again after that. His lips just rest against the curve of her neck. They're both silent again and if it wasn't for Izana's fingers rubbing circles into her ribs, Maya would have thought he was asleep. Izana's hands ignite a firestorm inside her. Had this situation been any different, she would have craved it— craved him. But it's not an ideal situation, this danger. "Hey bunny..." Izana murmurs

"Yeah?"

"How did you feel when Matsuno broke your heart?"

It's an odd question, something she didn't expect him to ask her. "I was sad"

"Yeah fuckin' obviously. But what did you feel?" Izana moves himself, his hands on either side of her head as he's now hovering over her face

She's staring up at him. He isn't his usual golden-tanned colour due to the utter shit he was going through due to the withdrawal. His breath is hitting her lips. He isn't so close to her face but it feels like he is. "I felt like shit... I didn't wanna come to work that day but they wouldn't give me a day off" Maya says quietly

Izana brushes a curly strand away from her forehead. "hm... So you came late that day 'cause you got your heartbroken...?"

"Would you want to come to work if the person you liked for years broke your heart?" Maya counters back

Izana's gaze softens, his fingers tracing a gentle path along Maya's jawline as he considers her question. "No, I suppose not," he admits, a hint of vulnerability creeping into his voice. "But I don't have the luxury of letting my emotions dictate my actions. I have responsibilities."

Maya can sense the weight of Izana's words, the burden of his role as the number 3 of the Tokyo Manji Gang weighing heavily on his shoulders. She knows all too well the pressure he faces, the constant need to maintain control and uphold his image of strength and authority. Even being in a gang is hard work she supposes. "I understand," she replies softly, reaching her hands up, her fingers threading through the strands of his hair as she tries to offer him comfort.

Despite everything, she can't help but feel a twinge of sympathy for him, a glimpse of the vulnerability beneath his tough exterior. Izana leans into her touch, his eyes closing briefly as he savors the warmth of her embrace. "Thank you, bunny," he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper. "For being here."

Her eyes widen at his words, not at all having expected him to say that. He's saying that as if she choose to be in this damn beach house. No wait. Izana mean thanks for taking care of him. It's odd. Seeing him suddenly be so vulnerable. Just what did he want from her this time? What stupid trick was he playing on her? But she doesn't ask, and instead says "how are you feeling now?"

His skin isn't that cold anymore but he's still very clearly feeling like shit. "I've been better"

She isn't too sure what else to say, going stiff when his thigh presses against her crotch. "D-Do you want me to make you something to eat?"

Izana presses his forehead against her's and sighs quietly. He takes one of Maya's hands and laces their fingers together, pinning it down beside her head. He's acting sweet. Izana has been acting this way ever since he revealed that Mikey was lying to her— since the day Maya promised to be his. Maya's heart pounds in her chest as Izana's actions send a jolt of unease through her. She can't shake the feeling that there's something more to his sudden change in demeanor, something lurking beneath the surface that she can't quite grasp. She watches as Izana's eyes search hers, a hint of vulnerability shining in their depths. "Izana..." Maya begins, her voice barely above a whisper as she struggles to find the right words.

But before she can say anything else, he leans in closer, his lips hovering just inches from hers. "Stay with me," he murmurs, his breath warm against her skin as his forehead stays against hers. "Just for a little while longer."

With a silent sigh, Maya relents, allowing herself to be drawn into the web of Izana's embrace once more. He's being sweet, somewhat, he won't be like this for long. Maya can't help but wonder— if Izana had played the long game with her the same way Mikey did, would she have felt just as betrayed as she did when finding out what Mikey had done? Would Maya have felt her heart shatter the same way? She isn't able to look away from his orchid eyes as she brings her free hand up to his hair, tangling in the white strands. After a while Izana moved his head back away from her so he could look at her face properly then said "You're gorgeous. Have I ever told you that?"

That was unexpected. Her fingers stay tangled in his hair. "Well... You call me a lot of things"

"I feel a lot of things for you too" Izana admits

She's silent for a moment, her nails gently scratching against his scalp. "Is that why you won't let me go?"

"Yes... I'm greedy... I want you for myself"

"I know" Her voice comes out as a small, breathless whisper before she says "Would you like something to eat? You need something to be eating properly while recovering"

Izana takes the hand he's holding and kisses the back of it. Maya isn't too sure how to react. These were the things Mikey did to her, not Izana. Izana was calculated words, control, the need for dominance and control, he was fear and terror and uncertainty. Maya didn't know Izana could be like this and she isn't sure if she likes it better, especially after Mikey. Oh god, Mikey didn't even know that she knew yet. He hadn't been back home since Izana revealed the truth to her. "Yes... I'd like that" Izana says then moves off her

Izana is no longer crushing her ribs but it still feels like she can't breathe.

The sun is shining through the large windows of the beach house. Maya is cooking, stirring the pot of soup. Kakucho is sitting on the bar stool in front of the kitchen island with an unknown expression on his face. Izana on the other hand, is standing behind her, arms around her waist and his chin hooked over her shoulder. He's holding her like he's her lover and Maya really isn't sure how to feel. Maya can feel Izana's warmth enveloping her, his presence both comforting and suffocating at the same time. She tries to focus on the task at hand, stirring the soup with more force than necessary, trying to ignore the way his arms tighten around her waist. Kakucho's gaze flickers between Maya and Izana, a mixture of concern and uncertainty evident in his expression. He opens his mouth as if to speak, but then closes it again, seemingly unable to find the right words to say. As the silence stretches between them, Maya can't help but feel a sense of unease settling over her. This domestic scene feels foreign and surreal, a far cry from the chaos and violence that usually surrounds her. She wonders if this is just another one of Izana's games, another way to exert his control over her. "I fuckin' hate vegetables so this better be good" Izana mutters, his hands slipping under her shirt to rest on her bare lower stomach

She can feel the heat of his hands against her skin, his fingers tracing idle patterns on her stomach, sending a shiver down her spine. His skin is no longer cold but it might as well be with the way he's making her feel. "It will be... You can take my word for it" Maya replies quietly

Kakucho shifts uncomfortably in his seat, clearing his throat awkwardly. "Uh, maybe I should help with something else," he suggests, looking for an excuse to leave and not be a third-wheel

But before Kakucho can make a move, Izana tightens his grip on Maya's waist, his touch bordering on possessive. "No, you stay right there," he says, his tone laced with a hint of warning.

Maya's heart sinks at the possessive edge in Izana's voice. With a heavy sigh, Maya focuses on stirring the soup. "U-Uh Kakucho you can take out the bowls" she says, in hopes of making the situation a little lighter

Kakucho nods, grateful for the chance to escape the palpable tension in the kitchen. He quickly stands up, grabbing a few bowls from the cupboard and setting them out on the counter. "Sure thing," he says, his voice a bit strained as he busies himself with the task.

Meanwhile, Izana's grip on Maya tightens slightly, his fingers digging into her waist possessively. "You're mine, aren't you?" he murmurs, his breath warm against her ear.

Maya's heart skips a beat at his words, a mixture of fear and uncertainty swirling inside her. She doesn't know how to respond, torn between the promise she made to Izana and the lingering doubts in her mind. "I... I don't know," she admits quietly, her voice barely above a whisper.

Izana's hold softens slightly, his touch gentler as he leans back to look at her. "You said you are," he says, his gaze intense as he searches her eyes for any sign of resistance "You told me you'd be mine so are you still mine?"

Maya's heart pounds with conflicting emotions as Izana's grip tightens around her waist. She felt the weight of her promise pressing down on her, the words she uttered in a moment of weakness now binding her to him. Despite the uncertainty swirling in her mind, she knows that she can't go back on her word. "I... I am," Maya whispers, her voice barely audible above the sound of her own racing heartbeat

The admission feels like a betrayal to herself, but she knows that denying Izana now would only lead to more pain and turmoil. Izana's expression softens slightly, a hint of satisfaction flickering in his eyes as he leans in closer. "Good girl," he murmurs, his breath warm against her ear. "You belong to me, bunny. Don't ever forget that."

Maya just hums, not knowing what else to say. Izana presses a kiss to her ear and she resists the urge to shiver. "Uh... Sanzu texted. Said he and Mikey will be here tomorrow morning" Kakucho says

Maya's heart sinks at the mention of Mikey's impending return, a mixture of apprehension and uncertainty swirling inside her. She knows that his presence will only complicate things further, adding another layer of tension to the already fragile dynamic between her and Izana. "Great," Izana mutters, his tone laced with irritation, burying his face in Maya's hair "Just what we need..."

Maya's stomach churns at the thought of facing Mikey again, her mind flooded with memories of their complicated history together. She knows that their reunion will inevitably bring up painful emotions and unresolved issues, and she's not sure if she's ready to confront them. She doesn't know if she'll be able to pretend that she doesn't know he was lying to her. Oh god, Maya thinks she'll be sick.

Soup was soon ready and Maya finished eating first. She excuses herself and goes back to the master bedroom— Mikey's room. Alone in Mikey's room, Maya sinks onto the edge of the bed, her thoughts swirling with a tangled mess of emotions. The familiar surroundings offer little solace as she wrestles with the conflicting feelings that weigh heavily on her heart. She stares at the view of the beach in front of her and stands up. She stands in front of the double doors, staring at the beach past the deck. The waves crash against the shore. Unconsciously, her hand comes up to the doorknob. She knows it's probably locked but just as she's about to twist it, the door swings open, revealing Kakucho standing there, his expression unreadable. Without a word, he steps into the room, closing the door behind him. Standing beside Maya, he joins her in staring out at the beach, the rhythmic sound of the waves filling the room. "you okay?" Kakucho asks as Maya lets go of the doorknob

Maya nods stiffly. "Yeah... 'm fine"

A moment of silence washes over them but only for a moment. "Maya about what I said to you..." Kakucho starts "About running..."

She looks at him. "yeah?"

"Stay."

She furrows her brows in confusion. "W-What?"

Kakucho rubs the back of his neck, a look of guilt in his eyes. "Stay with Izana. Stop trying to run"

Maya's heart sank as Kakucho's words hit her like a heavy blow. The sense of betrayal wells up inside her, mingling with frustration and confusion. Just a few days ago he told her he believed in her that she could get away just like that guy that did years ago. So why did he change his mind? "Why?" she asks, her voice trembling with emotion.

Kakucho meets her gaze with a solemn expression, his eyes reflecting a mixture of regret and concern. "Izana wants you and... and you're good for him"

"But what about me?" she demands, her voice cracking with emotion. "What about what I want?"

This wasn't fair. This wasn't fucking fair. Why was this happening to her? It felt like she was being robbed of her agency, forced to sacrifice her own desires for the sake of someone else's happiness. It wasn't fair. None of this was fair. Kakucho's expression softens, his gaze filled with empathy as he reaches out a hand to gently touch Maya's shoulder. "I know it's hard, Maya. But sometimes, we have to make sacrifices for the greater good" he says softly, his voice tinged with sadness.

Maya pulls away from his touch, her fists clenched in frustration. "And what about my happiness? What about what I need?" she challenges, her voice trembling with emotion "There is no greater good in this situation, just a fucking sociopath that wants a pet and that pet happens to be me"

Kakucho's eyes widened, a conflict evident in his expression as Maya's words pierced through him. He took a deep breath, mustering the courage to speak. "Maya, I... I can't let you leave," he admitted, his voice wavering with uncertainty. "I care more for Izana than I do for my own morality."

Maya's heart sank at his confession, feeling the weight of his words bearing down on her. She struggled to comprehend how someone she trusted could prioritize the well-being of another over her own autonomy. "So, what? I'm just supposed to sacrifice my happiness for yours and Izana's?" she retorted, her voice tinged with bitterness.

Kakucho's gaze faltered, guilt flickering across his features. "I know it's not fair to ask this of you," he began, his tone heavy with remorse. "But Izana... he's not in a good place right now. He needs you, Maya. And I... I need to protect him, even if it means making difficult choices."

Maya's fists clenched at her sides, frustration boiling inside her. She felt trapped, suffocated by the weight of Kakucho's expectations. "That's not fair... That's not fucking fair" Maya says angrily "I got drugged and kidnapped right out of my workplace, drugged again, waterboarded and drowned—"

"Maya" Kakucho tries cutting her off but she just keeps going

"—drugged till I was addicted, went through withdrawals, taken against my will multiple times"

"Maya"

"got hot wax poured down my back, had first-degree burns on my back all while I was going through withdrawals," She says, her eyes teary now "Just why should I stay for him, when all he's done is hurt me?"

Kakucho's expression softened, his gaze filled with sorrow as he listened to Maya's anguished cries. He reached out a hand to gently touch her shoulder, offering what little comfort he could in the face of her pain. "I'm sorry, Maya," he murmured, his voice heavy with remorse. "I know it's not fair, but Izana... he's not well. He needs help, and you're the only one who can give it to him."

Maya shook her head, her heart heavy with the weight of her suffering. "But what about me?" she whispered, her voice barely above a sob. "What about my pain? Who's going to help me heal?"

There was a moment of agonizing silence as Kakucho struggled to find the words to comfort her. He knew there were no easy answers, no simple solutions to the pain she had endured. All he could do was offer his support and hope that Maya would find the strength to persevere. "I wish I had an answer, Maya," he admitted softly. "But all I can offer you is my support. I'll be here for you, no matter what."

"no, you won't Kakucho..." She whispers

He doesn't answer after that and only sighs. Maya watches Kakucho reach into his pocket and pull out a key. Maya watches in silence as he puts it into the keyhole and she hears it... lock? Her heart drops at the realization that the door has been unlocked this whole time. "W-What?" she whispers

Her freedom was right there. It was right there and now it was... gone. Her freedom was right there. It was within reach, tantalizingly close, and now it was slipping through her fingers, lost to the cruel whims of fate. The realization hit her like a wave crashing against the shore, overwhelming her with a sense of helplessness and despair. "It was unlocked this whole time?" she choked out, her voice trembling with emotion.

Kakucho's gaze remained fixed on the door, his expression unreadable. "I'm sorry, Maya," he murmured, his voice heavy with regret. "I can't let you leave. Not now."

Maya's heart pounded in her chest, panic clawing at the edges of her consciousness. She felt trapped, suffocated by the confines of the room, with no escape in sight. Tears welled up in her eyes as she struggled to contain the flood of emotions threatening to consume her. "Please," she pleaded, her voice barely audible. "Let me go."

But Kakucho remained silent, his gaze fixed on the locked door, his decision final as he left the room. And as Maya sank to the floor, her spirit broken and her hope extinguished, she knew that her fight for freedom had come to an agonizing end.

"what cha' thinkin' 'bout?" Izana asks

He's lying on top of her again, his weight pressing down on her ribs, not letting her breathe properly. Maya's heart skipped a beat as Izana's voice broke through her thoughts, pulling her back to the suffocating reality of the present moment. She swallowed hard, her throat feeling dry as she struggled to find the right words to respond. "Nothing," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper, her eyes fixed on the ceiling above.

But Izana wasn't one to accept evasive answers. He shifted slightly, his weight bearing down on her even more as he leaned in closer, his breath warm against her ear. "You're lying," he accused softly, his tone tinged with amusement.

Maya tensed beneath him, the weight of his body pressing down on her making it difficult to think. "I... I was just... thinking about everything," she admitted reluctantly, her voice barely audible. "About... about how we got here, I guess."

Izana hummed in response, his fingers idly tracing patterns on her stomach. "You're mine now, Maya," he murmured, his voice sending shivers down her spine. "And I'm not letting you go."

Maya's heart sank as she heard Izana's possessive declaration, his words a stark reminder of the chains that bound her to him. She closed her eyes, a heavy weight settling in the pit of her stomach as she whispered softly "I know."

A short silence washes over them, Izana's face resting in the crook of her neck again. He had a headache earlier which made him pretty fucking irritable but now it was gone. "Izana..." she says quietly

"hm?" his lips created a slight vibration against the curve of her neck

"What if I didn't come to work that day? What if I just stayed home that day and didn't show up to the hospital?" Maya asks him, her fingers tangled in his white hair

Izana's response is a low, contemplative hum as he shifts slightly, his breath warm against Maya's skin. "If you hadn't shown up that day..." he begins, his voice trailing off for a moment as he gathers his thoughts. "Well, things would've been different, wouldn't they?"

Maya's heart clenches at his vague response, a flood of uncertainty washing over her. She had expected him to offer some reassurance or clarity, but his words only served to deepen the sense of unease gnawing at her conscience. "Different how?" she presses, her voice tinged with apprehension.

Izana's grip on her tightens slightly, his fingers tracing idle patterns on her back as he considers his response. "I suppose we'll never know, bunny," he murmurs cryptically, his tone betraying a hint of amusement. "But even if you didn't show up, I would've brought you here anyway... Would've dragged you out of your little house."

Maya's breath catches in her throat at Izana's words, a chill creeping down her spine at the realization of just how little control she had over her own fate. She had always suspected that Izana's intentions toward her were far from benign, but hearing him admit it so casually sent a shiver of fear coursing through her veins.

"You would've... dragged me here?" she echoes, her voice barely above a whisper, her mind reeling with the implications of his words.

Izana's grip on her tightens even more, his touch bordering on possessive as he presses his lips against the sensitive skin of her neck. "Of course, bunny," he purrs, his breath hot against her skin "It wouldn't have been as fun as chasing you through the hospital but you would've been here with me"

Maya doesn't know why she expected a different answer from Izana when she already well knows how this crazy bitch thinks. After all, she's seen firsthand the lengths he's willing to go to get what he wants. But knowing doesn't make it any easier to accept the reality of her situation. "It was cruel of you to do that all that the same day I got my heart broken" Maya mumbles, trying to lighten the situation

Izana chuckles softly, the sound sending a shiver down Maya's spine. "Cruelty is my specialty, bunny," he replies, his voice dripping with amusement. "Besides, it's not like I planned for Matsuno to break your heart that day. It just happened to work out in my favour."

Maya forces a weak smile, trying to play along with Izana's twisted sense of humour. "Lucky me" she mutters under her breath, her attempt at levity falling flat in the oppressive atmosphere

A thought passes through her head and then she asks "What about Mikey?"

"Manjiro? What about him?" he replies, fingers tracing circles on her ribs again

"What will he think about all this?" Maya clarifies 

Izana's fingers pause their motion, his expression turning slightly contemplative at Maya's question. "He's got his own world to worry about," he replies nonchalantly, his touch resuming its gentle circles on Maya's ribs. "Trust me, he won't mind."

Maya's brow furrows in concern, uncertainty gnawing at her. "why won't he mind?"

Mikey seemed like the possessive type— even more than Izana was. So just why wouldn't he mind? Izana chuckles softly, the sound carrying a hint of amusement as he meets Maya's gaze with an enigmatic smile. "Because, bunny, you're mine and Manjiro is mine too"

Maya's brow furrows further, confusion evident in her expression as she tries to decipher Izana's cryptic words. "What do you mean, we're both yours?" she asks, her voice tinged with uncertainty

But that's when it hit her. Izana saw her as a pet, a possession. Something to own. She was a toy for him to play with. Izana saw Mikey the exact same way. Mikey was a toy for Izana to play with, the same way Maya was a pet for him. As the pieces of the puzzle fall into place, Maya's heart sinks with the weight of understanding. Izana's twisted game becomes clearer, his manipulation extending beyond just her. She recalls faint memories, fragments of conversations heard through the haze of drugs and confusion. Izana's whispers poisoning Mikey's mind, turning him into a pawn in his cruel game. The realization hits her like a punch to the gut. Izana saw them both as objects to manipulate, to control, to possess. Mikey, his own brother, is reduced to nothing more than a pawn in his relentless pursuit of power and dominance. Anger simmers beneath the surface of Maya's composure, fueled by betrayal and indignation. How could Izana be so callous, so cold-blooded, to toy with the lives of those closest to him? And how could Mikey, blinded by loyalty or perhaps ignorance, allow himself to become ensnared in his brother's web of deceit? Mikey may have lied to her but what if she wasn't looking deeper into it? What if there was more to Mikey's lies that Izana hadn't told her about? But she holds back these thoughts, feeling even more sick as she keeps thinking and decides to change the subject. "Why did you take drugs again?" She asks looking at the back of his head "You recovered didn't you?"

Izana hums into the curve of her neck, seemingly accepting the topic change. "yeah... I dunno... I felt like I needed it and I got carried away without Kakucho noticing and then this happened"

Maya listens to Izana's response, a mixture of frustration and concern bubbling inside her. "But you were doing so well," she murmurs, her voice gentle, not wanting him to think she was in any way disappointed because she wasn't— Maya knows and has seen how hard it is recovering from addiction "Why would you risk everything by taking drugs again?"

Izana's grip on her tightens slightly, his breath warm against her skin as he shifts his weight. "I don't know, bunny," he admits quietly. "Sometimes, it's just hard to resist the temptation."

Maya's heart aches at his words, the complexity of Izana's struggles weighing heavily on her mind. Despite everything, she can't shake the feeling of empathy towards him, even as she grapples with her own conflicting emotions. "You know you can talk to me about these things... I'm still technically a psychiatrist..." she says softly, her fingers gently stroking his hair

Izana chuckles softly, a wry smile playing on his lips as he turns to face her. "You're a persistent one, aren't you?" he teases, his eyes meeting hers with a mixture of amusement and affection. "But I suppose that's part of why I keep you around."

Maya feels a little stupid for being this way with Izana after all he's done. Maybe it was because not once he had lied to her. Because he had been truthful the entire time. She feels stupid for unconsciously looking for affection in such a violent place and from such a violent person. Yet, there's a raw honesty to Izana that she can't ignore. He may be brutal and ruthless, but he's also authentic in a way that few others are. In a world filled with lies and deceit, his transparency is both refreshing and unsettling. But Maya knows she can't continue to delude herself. She's playing a dangerous game, dancing on the edge of a cliff with Izana as her partner. Maya is about to say something until she feels one of Izana's hands start to trail up higher on her ribs, the tips of his fingers grazing against the band of her bra. "lace?" He murmurs "lemme see"

Maya's breath catches in her throat as Izana's fingers linger on the edge of her bra, sending a shiver down her spine. The gentle touch of Izana's fingers against her skin ignited a firestorm of conflicting desires. "I-Izana" she mumbles nervously as he lifts himself off her, hovering over her body

Izana's lips curve into a knowing smile as he leans in closer, his breath warm against her skin. "Don't worry, bunny," he murmurs, his voice low and seductive. "Just wanna take a look"

But Maya can't shake the feeling of vulnerability that grips her, the sense of being caught in a web of desire and deceit. She knows that she should resist, that she should push him away and reclaim control over her own desires. But as Izana's lips brush against her neck, igniting a spark of desire deep within her, she finds herself unable to resist the pull of his magnetic presence. With a trembling sigh, Maya surrenders to the intoxicating allure of the moment, allowing herself to be consumed by the passion that burns between them. At that moment, she knows that she's playing with fire, dancing on the edge of oblivion with Izana as her partner. But for now, she chooses to embrace the flames, surrendering to the tumultuous whirlwind of desire that threatens to consume them both. "Arch your back" he mumbles

Maya's heart races as she complies, arching her back in response to Izana's whispered command. Every nerve in her body tingles with anticipation, her senses heightened by the intoxicating proximity of his touch. She can feel the heat of his breath against her skin, sending shivers of pleasure coursing through her veins. As she arches her back, Izana's hands slide gently along her sides, tracing the contours of her body with a feather-light touch. His fingers dance over her skin, leaving a trail of fire in their wake, as he explores the curves of her body with a tender reverence. Izana slides his hands under her back and with one movement lifts her off the bed like she was a child. She's now in his lap, straddling his thighs, chest pressed against his. Maya gasps as Izana effortlessly lifts her off the bed, her body instinctively wrapping around him. She looks into his eyes, searching for any hint of hesitation or doubt, but finds only a smouldering intensity that sends a thrill of anticipation coursing through her veins. "can I?" Izana whispers softly, a look of vulnerability in his eyes "Will you let me this time?"

With trembling hands, Maya reaches up to trace the contours of Izana's face, her touch gentle yet filled with fierce longing. She feels a surge of electricity shoots through her body at the contact, every nerve ending alight with sensation. Izana's hands roam freely over her body, igniting a firestorm of desire that threatens to consume them both. Their breath mingles in the air, hot and ragged, as they lose themselves in the dizzying ecstasy of the moment. "Is that a yes then?" He murmurs, a small smile playing on his lips

With a soft exhale, Maya nods slowly, her voice barely above a whisper. "Yes," she breathes, her fingers still tracing the contours of Izana's face, her touch a silent affirmation of her consent

Oh god did she hate herself for this. But maybe she was too tired. Too tired after fighting, too tired after realizing there was no one on her side. Izana's smile widens, a glimmer of satisfaction dancing in his eyes as he leans in closer, his lips hovering just inches from hers. "Good"

Maya's heart races as Izana's lips draw closer, anticipation mingling with trepidation in her chest. She feels a surge of conflicting emotions—desire warring with self-loathing, longing battling against resignation. Their lips meet in a searing kiss, sending a jolt of electricity coursing through Maya's veins. It's a whirlwind of sensation, overwhelming and all-consuming, as they lose themselves in each other's embrace. In that fleeting moment, there is no past, no future, only the raw intensity of their connection, binding them together in a fiery passion that defies reason and logic. "now lemme get a look" Izana says, pulling away from the kiss

Izana pulls her shirt off with ease, throwing it to the side, and falling onto the floor. He sighs softly, his thumb brushing over the baby pink lacy strap on her shoulder. Maya's cheeks flush with heat as Izana's gaze roams over her exposed skin, his eyes tracing every curve and contour with a hunger that sends shivers down her spine. She feels exposed under his intense scrutiny, vulnerable yet strangely exhilarated by the raw intensity of his desire. "Beautiful," Izana murmurs, his voice low and husky as he reaches out to caress her cheek with gentle fingers

She leans into his touch, her own fingers trailing lightly down his clothed chest, tracing the lines of his muscles with a reverence born of awe and longing. Izana's gaze shifts to her shoulder to the scar from where he had accidentally bitten her too hard. Maya feels a surge of mixed emotions flood her being as she watches him study the mark with a mixture of regret and a weird look of fascination. "I'm sorry," Izana murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper as he traces the scar with gentle fingertips

Maya isn't too sure if he actually means it though. But she doesn't feel like doubting it right now. Maya doesn't want to feel like shit anymore. She's tired of feeling that way. "It's fine" she mumbles, thumb tracing over his jaw "It'll fade"

Izana sighs, leaning down to press a kiss to her scarred shoulder. "I've hurt you so much, hm..." She knows he's not just referring to the physical scars but also the emotional wounds he's inflicted upon her. "I'll make it up to you, bunny... Promise"

And so Izana kissed her again, all tongue, licking desperately into her mouth like he was starved. Maya's mind swirls with conflicting emotions as Izana's lips meet hers once more, his kiss desperate and hungry, as if trying to erase the pain of the past with the intensity of the present. She can feel the raw desire coursing through him, his touch igniting a firestorm of longing within her. Izana is being oddly sweet for someone who waterboarded and burned her. 

Oh well.

He unclips her bra with ease, throwing it in the same place he threw her shirt. She's soon lowered back onto the bed. He's kissing down her throat, ending at her sternum, sucking love bites into her skin while her fingers tangle into the thick white strands of his hair. Izana sighs against Maya's skin and she shivers then he shivers too. "Fuck... I'm cold again" he groans, his fingers digging into her waist

She forgot he was still going through withdrawals. Izana is going through another cold flush like earlier. She can feel the chill emanating from his skin, a stark contrast to the fire burning within her own veins. With a mixture of concern and tenderness, she reaches out to caress his cheek, her touch gentle yet filled with an unspoken promise of comfort. "It's okay, Izana," she murmurs soothingly, her voice a soft whisper against his ear. "I'm here. I'll keep you warm."

Izana's grip on her tightens, his fingers digging into her waist with a mixture of desperation and longing. "I need you, Maya," he confesses, his voice raw with emotion, using her name for the first time in a long time 

At that moment, Maya knows that she can't deny him what he seeks, no matter how temporary or fleeting the relief may be or how much she hates him. With a silent nod, she pulls him closer, enveloping him in the warmth of her embrace, determined to offer him solace in the midst of his torment. So their clothes scatter and Izana pushes in, slowly, inch by inch, knocking the air out of her lungs. "f-fuck" a whimper leaves Izana and Maya lets out a shuddery breathe, squeezing her eyes shut

Her nails dig into his shoulders and her legs go around his waist, not sure if she wanted him closer or further. Maya is breathing heavily and shaky, her head up in clouds from the stretch caused by the lack of preparation from both herself and Izana. "god, you're so warm" Izana moans, his face pressed into the crook of her neck

He hasn't moved his hips yet, probably being nice for once and trying to let Maya adjust to him first. She wraps her arms around his neck and sighs, fingers tangling in his hair. "I can be on top" She offers, voice shaky

Izana's teeth graze against her throat. "as much as I'd love the view bunny, I wanna be on top... I'm trying to make it up to you remember" He hisses a little, mumbling how tight she was 

Maya's heart flutters at the intimacy of their exchange, a mixture of desire and uncertainty coursing through her veins. She hesitates for a moment, torn between her own desires and Izana's request. But ultimately, she nods in silent agreement, trusting him to lead them in this dance of passion and a twisted kind of redemption. "Okay," she breathes, her voice barely above a whisper, her fingers tracing lazy patterns on his back. "I trust you, Izana."

Honestly speaking, no she didn't. Just because Izana was truthful to her didn't mean she had to be truthful to him. She could lie to him as much as she wanted. She had no reason to be honest. So as Izana start to thurst she whimpers out his name over and over. It felt good. So fucking good. The drag of his cock against her walls and each time his pelvis brushed against her clit. It felt so fucking good. "I-Izana" she whines as he thrusts in slow and lazy

His lips meet hers in a just as lazy but desperate kiss. Maya didn't know Izana had the capability to kiss like that— soft, full of passion, desperation and eagerness. Fuck it felt good. Being treated that way by someone who's only ever treated you violently felt so good. She whimpers into his mouth as his fingers find her nipples, lightly rubbing against them before pinching. Her legs tighten around his waist and her fingers tug at his white locks. Izana begins kissing down towards her jaw now, till her throat, collarbones, and sternum and then Maya feels him smile against her skin before he takes one of her nipples in his mouth. A shuddery breath leaves her lips at the feeling. He sucks at it, soft, but his teeth graze against it almost threateningly. Maya feels like she's having an out-of-body experience when he tugs at her other nipple and his free hand goes down to rub at her clit. There's so much going on at once that she already feels so overstimulated and comes from the sheer feeling of all of it. Izana chuckles as she comes down from her high. He stops thrusting momentarily as he presses his forehead against hers. "so sensitive, hm bunny..." Izana sighs softly "Wish I took your first..."

He doesn't give her a chance to respond as he starts thrusting again, this time rougher, harder. Her eyes roll back as he pulls his head away from her. "oh fuck..." Izana mutters as he slows down but keeps going just as hard "Look at that"

Izana is looking down at her stomach, right at the small bulge on her lower tummy every time he thrusts into her cunt. He fucking giggles, like it's something cute, like he's not practically fucking her guts. Oh god, she should be horrified but it just turns her on even more. A sob-like moan leaves her when Izana speeds up and presses down on her lower stomach. She feels good. Everything feels good and even if it's only momentary, Maya wants it so badly to last. No matter how overwhelming, no matter how sensitive. Because it seems that only during sex is when the pain truly stops. "please" Maya whimpers desperately, pulling him in as close as possible when he pounds into her cunt 

"Please what, hm?" He asks, the tips of his fingers pressing bruises into her waist "wh-what-f-fuck... what do you want bunny?"

Izana's voice is shaky as he speeds up even more, feeling himself getting closer. "a-ah~ want more" Her moan sounded more like a sob 

Izana smiles, his eyes dark with lust as he leans down, capturing her lips in a rough messy kiss. It's all teeth and tongue and eventually, they're both just breathing heavily into the other's mouths as they come at the same time. Izana doesn't pull out after that though. He simply shifts their positions so they're both lying on their side and keeps his cock buried in her using the excuse that he was still cold. That was probably his first lie but Maya was too tired to say or do anything so she just complies. She's tucked away in his arms. Izana is holding her tight and close like he's afraid she'll slip away at any moment. Maya on the other hand can't focus on anything other than the feeling of him still inside. "One thing I adore about girls like you is how prettily you suffer." Izana whispers as his fingers trace along her spine "How could anyone want to comfort you when you look this fuckin' pretty when you're miserable?"

Mayas closes her eyes and just falls slack in his arms. It's dark out now. "You're gorgeous, you know that my pretty bunny? Everything about you is breathtakingly beautiful" He whispers and she opens her eyes to look at him

Maya doesn't say anything to Izana. Everything just felt too good for her to really even try to speak or move. "You're so pretty... The way you suffer is so pretty too so I just can't help but hurt you..." Izana murmurs and presses a kiss to her cheekbone

After a while, he pulls out with a small hiss, leading her silently to the shower. As the water cascades over them, washing away the physical remnants of their encounter, Maya's mind drifts into a haze of numbness. The weight of their tangled emotions hangs heavy in the air, suffocating her as she struggles to make sense of it all. Izana's words echo hollowly in her ears, his attempts at reconciliation falling on deaf ears as she retreats into the depths of her own thoughts. In the midst of the steam and the warmth of the water, Maya feels a profound sense of emptiness, a hollow ache that gnaws at the edges of her soul. She can't shake the feeling of being adrift, lost in a sea of uncertainty and despair. Each drop of water that falls against her skin feels like a reminder of the tears she's shed, the pain she's endured, and the scars that mar her body and soul alike.

As they step out of the shower, Izana gives her a pill, his voice a distant echo in the recesses of her mind. Maya accepts it mechanically, her movements robotic as she goes through the motions of getting cleaned up. She doesn't bother listening to Izana's words anymore, the pretty lies and empty promises ringing hollow in her ears. Wrapped in a towel, Maya allows herself to be led back to the bedroom, the weight of the world pressing down on her shoulders. She lets Izana hold her naked body against his chest, but the embrace offers little comfort, a fleeting illusion of solace in a world devoid of warmth and light.

As he kisses her forehead and murmurs empty reassurances into her ears, Maya can't help but feel a sense of profound sadness wash over her. This moment of tenderness feels like a cruel mockery of the pain and suffering that has brought them to this point. She knows that no amount of physical closeness can erase the scars that mar their relationship, nor can it mend the broken pieces of her shattered heart.

One can only dream, she figures.

Mikey is back the next morning. She ignores him as best as she can. Maya didn't want to even look at him after knowing he had been lying to her this whole time— giving her false hope that he'd convince Izana to let her go when Mikey might as well be an accomplice. The air in the beach house feels heavy with tension as Mikey's presence looms over Maya like a dark cloud. But despite her efforts to ignore him, Mikey's presence is an ever-present reminder of the lies and deceit that have plagued their relationship or whatever twisted relationship they had in the first place. 

She doesn't know how to face Mikey, how to confront the betrayal that cuts to the core of her being. All she can do is bury her pain deep within her heart, shielding herself from the raw vulnerability of her shattered trust. But even as she tries to push him away, a part of Maya longs for answers, for closure to the questions that have haunted her since the truth came to light. She knows that confronting Mikey won't undo the damage that has been done, but she can't help but yearn for some semblance of understanding in the midst of the chaos that surrounds her. "Thanks again, Maya" Kakucho says with a smile "Really."

Izana had fallen back to sleep after breakfast, still needing a lot of rest. Thankfully this time the detox process shouldn't take too long since he wasn't in that damn shitty hospital with shitty care. "It's nothing" Maya mumbles dismissively

She was still mad at Kakucho. Almost as much as she was mad at Mikey. Maya had the right to be mad after all. She resents his gratitude, feeling as though it's a hollow gesture in the wake of his betrayal. But beneath her anger lies a deep well of hurt and confusion, emotions that threaten to consume her if she lets them. The lies, the deceit, the manipulation—all of it weighs heavily on her heart, dragging her down into a pit of despair. She can't shake the feeling of betrayal that gnaws at her from within, leaving her feeling lost and alone in a sea of uncertainty. "really though... thanks for helping him" Mikey says with a soft smile

Maya resists the urge to sneer at him the same way she would at Izana when she was first brought here. Mikey had been lying to her, giving her false hope. That was probably worse than Kakucho going back on his word. "Sure" Maya replies tersely, her voice lacking the warmth that once coloured their conversations

She can't bring herself to meet Mikey's gaze, her eyes fixed on some distant point in the room as she struggles to contain the storm of emotions raging inside her. Mikey's smile falters slightly, a flicker of concern crossing his features. "Hey, is everything okay?" he asks, his voice laced with genuine worry.

Maya's jaw clenches as she fights to keep her composure, the urge to lash out at Mikey almost overwhelming. But she knows that giving in to her anger won't solve anything, and won't change the past. So she forces herself to take a deep breath, to push aside her hurt and frustration, if only for a moment. "Yeah, everything's fine" Maya replies, her tone flat and devoid of emotion

She retreats to the master bedroom. Bad idea honestly speaking. It wasn't her own room, it was Mikey's. Stupid idea for her to try and hide from him in there because he just followed her inside. "no... everything's not fine. What's wrong?" Mikey asks with a frown, his black hair tied back in a messy ponytail

Maya's heart skips a beat as Mikey enters the room, his concerned voice cutting through the heavy silence that hangs between them like a suffocating fog. She can feel the weight of his gaze on her, a silent plea for her to open up and share her burden. But Maya remains silent, her emotions roiling beneath the surface as she struggles to find the words to articulate the storm raging inside her. "It's nothing, Mikey," Maya finally murmurs, her voice barely above a whisper. "I just... I need some time alone."

Mikey's frown deepens, his brows furrowing in concern. "You can talk to me, Maya," he insists, taking a step closer to her. "Whatever it is, we can work through it together. I told you I'm here for you"

Maya shakes her head, heading for the bathroom to get inside and lock the door so she can get some alone time but Mikey gets inside before she can even get the door closed. "don't avoid me" He speaks more demandingly this time "You haven't even been looking at me since I got back! Didn't you miss me, baby?"

The petname which used to make her heart flutter is now making her stomach churn. "Mikey, I really don't wanna do this right now" Maya says, digging her nails into her palms, feeling a mixture of panic and anger fill her

"Maya, please," Mikey pleads, his voice tinged with desperation as he reaches out to gently grasp her arm. "I just want to understand what's going on. You've been avoiding me ever since I got back, and I can't shake this feeling that something's not right."

Maya's heart pounds in her chest as she feels the weight of Mikey's gaze on her, his eyes searching hers for answers she's not ready to give. "I really don't want to talk to you right now"

But Mikey's grip tightens on her arm, his expression filled with determination as he refuses to let her pull away. "No, Maya," he says firmly, his voice tinged with frustration. "We need to talk about this. Whatever it is, we'll face it together."

With a heavy sigh, she meets Mikey's gaze with a sense of resignation, steeling herself for the difficult conversation that lies ahead. "Okay," Maya whispers, her voice barely above a whisper as she takes a deep breath, preparing herself for the storm that is about to come. "Let's talk."

Mikey nods and gestures for her to continue. "You're lying to me" she says

He furrows his brows. "what?"

"you were lying to me" Maya repeats trying to sound more angry than sad "You told you asked Izana to let me go when you really didn't. You want to keep me here too"

Mikey's expression shifts from confusion to determination, his features contorted with earnestness at Maya's accusation. "Maya, you've got it all wrong," he protests, his voice tinged with a hint of desperation. "I know it may seem that way, but I was only trying to keep you safe. I asked Izana to let you go, but he's unpredictable. I was worried about what might happen to you if you left."

Maya meets his gaze with a mixture of skepticism and sorrow, wrestling with the conflicting emotions swirling inside her. "Keeping me safe?" she echoes, her voice heavy with disbelief. "By keeping me prisoner with you and your sociopath brother? How is that supposed to make me feel safe?"

Mikey steps closer, his eyes pleading for understanding. "I know it's hard to see it now, Maya, but believe me, I was only trying to protect you," he insists, his voice tinged with genuine concern. "I didn't want you to get hurt. I thought I was doing what was best for you."

Tears well up in Maya's eyes as she grapples with the painful realization of Mikey's deception. She had put her faith in him, believing that he had her best interests at heart. But now, as she stands before him, the truth laid bare, she can't help but feel a profound sense of betrayal. Mikey takes her face in his hands as she's standing with her back against the counter. "Baby, it's not just all that, hm... I wanted you and there was no other way to make you stay" he completely shifts his point now "It's so dangerous out there for you and I wanted you anyway so making you stay was the best option"

Tears start to run down her cheeks. "You watched what I went through... This isn't fair" Maya whimpers sadly

Mikey's expression softens, his features contorted with a feigned sympathy as he steps closer to Maya, reaching out to gently wipe away her tears. "I know, baby, I know," he murmurs, his voice dripping with false sincerity. "But you have to understand, I did it because I care about you. I couldn't bear to see you in danger out there, not when I knew I could keep you safe here with me."

Maya's heart aches at his words, torn between the desire to believe him and the nagging doubts that linger in the back of her mind. "But you didn't have the right to make that decision for me," she whispers, her voice tinged with a mixture of sadness and anger. "You took away my freedom, Mikey. How can you expect me to forgive you for that?"

Mikey's gaze hardens, a flicker of frustration crossing his features as he takes a step closer, his hand tightening around Maya's arm. "Because I did it out of love, Maya," he insists, his voice tinged with possessiveness. "I did it because I love you and I can't bear the thought of losing you. Can't you see that?"

She sniffles, trembling a little now after his sudden love confession. "Why couldn't you have just told me the truth?"

"Would you have stayed if I did?" Mikey asks lowly

Maya's breath catches in her throat, her heart pounding with the weight of Mikey's question. His words hang heavy in the air, suffocating her with their implication. "I don't know," she whispers, her voice quivering with uncertainty. "But I deserved to know the truth."

Mikey's expression hardens, a glint of possessiveness flashing in his eyes as he takes a step closer to Maya, his hand reaching out to grasp her arm firmly. "You would have run, Maya," he says, his voice low and commanding. "And I couldn't let you go. You're mine."

Maya recoils at his touch, her eyes widening with a mixture of fear and disbelief. "Mikey, please..." she pleads, her voice trembling with emotion. "This isn't right. You can't keep me here against my will."

But Mikey's grip tightens, his fingers digging into her skin with a painful intensity. "I'm doing this for your own good, Maya," he insists, his tone tinged with desperation. "You're safer here with me. You belong with me."

Tears well up in Maya's eyes as she struggles against Mikey's hold, feeling trapped and powerless. "Let me go, Mikey," she begs, her voice choked with emotion. "Please, just let me go."

But Mikey's expression hardens further, his resolve unyielding as he stares down at Maya with a possessive gleam in his eyes. "You're not going anywhere," he declares, his voice dripping with determination. "You're mine, Maya. And you're staying right here where you belong."

It was weird. Just weeks ago she had the same conversation with Izana and now she was having it with Mikey. Just like then, she's weak. Weak as Mikey turns her around to face the mirror in front of the bathroom sink, weak as takes her right there in front of it. "so fuckin' pretty" He moans as he watches her through the mirror "Takin' me so we-well, baby"

There's a thin coat of sweat on her forehead and her hair is sticking to her skin. Mikey keeps running a hand up and down her spine, seemingly enjoying the way it arches as he thrusts into her. He's being rough, moaning, mumbling praises. All Maya can do is take it, grasping desperately at the counter, her moans breathless and whimpers pitiful. Once again she hates how good it felt. One of the things that wasn't fair was how good Mikey knew how to make her feel. She almost regrets letting him take the time to get to know her body, to let him know all those other nights what she liked and what she didn't because now it was her downfall. "You're mine, hm?" He grunts "Yeah baby?"

She's gasping, trembling as he's forcing a second orgasm out of her while rubbing on her clit. "I-I... 'm yours" 

It's too much. Way too much as he just keeps going. "say it. say my name"

"Mikey"

"again"

"M-Mikey"

He forces the third out of her. Mikey grabs Maya by her hair and pulls her till her back is pressed to his chest while he fucks her. "look at you" He murmurs shakily into her ear "so fuckin' pretty..."

Had this situation been any other, she would have agreed. God, she looked so damn hot being fucked by him like this. Mikey is holding her so tight against him. Her eyes are glazed over and her hair sticking to her skin. She's trembling, biting at her already red, bruised lips, her fucked out expression looking so damn pretty. "Who do you belong to?"

"Mikey..." She gasps breathlessly

He finishes inside her finally. Her head is a mess when Mikey turns her back around to face him. He's hugging her tight, right up against his chest as if to try and keep her together. Maya can feel his cum dripping down her inner thighs. The feeling is odd. She shivers and just lets him remove all her clothes so they can shower together. She feels boneless and exhausted. He's whispering apologies into her ear for being too rough, asking her where the scar on her shoulder had come from then tells her he'd tell Izana to be more gentle with her. Maya answers each, quietly and shaky. She's so tired and it's only 12 pm. "I love you... okay?" Mikey murmurs as they stand beneath the shower

"I love you too" she murmurs, her voice barely audible over the sound of the running water

There isn't much she can really do about it now. All the roads to freedom have been blocked off and there was no longer a way out. Maya is exhausted and now she just wants to stop fighting. 

But the question remains:

Just when will Mikey and Izana be done taking from her?

notes: oh my god we have 2 more chapters left for the main story. The next chapter explores Maya's forgotten memories and a means to an end. lol good luck everyone, all of us will need it.

Idk if the smut with either Izana or Mikey is even good but yeah, that's there.

link to character analysis and headcanons

likes, asks and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

special thanks to: @highpri3stess @mysouleaten @yaya4thawin @piroporopo @reiners-milkbiddies @bontensbabygirl @tenjikusstuff4 @fairey555 @haikyuusboringassmanager @firstdivisiongirl