#missing... so when i disappeared it was always with little to no sense of guilt. i think even now i struggle with

[suddencolds]

.~

[jessiesjaded]

random picture dump :)

[menelausblues]

is there a place i can go?

꒰ you're so used to hiding when it's hard, and xavier loves you too much to let you go. ꒱

𖥔 ݁ 1.5k. semi-canon. established relationship. depressed/anxious/avoidant reader/mc who's having a hard time with her stress and grief x understanding n tender boyfriend xavier. hurt/comfort. angst. some fluff at the end. ❀ ݁ this is for all my fellow anxious-avoidants trying their best not to let the horrors stop them from being loved.

mdni.

two days ago.

xavier ⋮ 2:01 pm. my bunny is missing. have you seen her? 

yesterday.

xavier ⋮ 3:04 pm. pretty eyes. pretty smile. pretty laugh. light of my life. if seen, please give me a call. xavier ⋮ 3:38 pm. i’ve asked all the neighbors and they say they haven’t seen my bunny at all. can you help me find her? i think i’ll be sad if she doesn’t come home to me soon.

today.

xavier ⋮ 3:51 pm. it’s been days since i last saw or talked to you. xavier ⋮ 4:09 pm. i tried coming by your apartment but it seemed like you weren’t there. praying my bunny didn’t leave home for good. xavier ⋮ 4:11 pm. are you okay? i’m worried about you.

it feels like no one loves you, but you know it’s not true.

you don’t understand why you’re like this, why at the foundation of your heart is a hurt little girl shaking in fear and always in a hurry to hide from the world or disprove its intentions. nothing feels as safe as isolation but nothing feels as awful as loneliness. you’re safe from the potentiality of harm but there’s no one to turn to for joy. so you sit and sulk in the security of your separation. your world is filled with empty rooms and stretched sighs. the worst part is that it’s entirely your own fault.  it feels like no one loves you. and it’s because you won’t let them even if they do. it’s not xavier’s fault that you’re avoiding him, but it is.  this blooming fear and odd sensation of coming loss is all because lately he’s perceiving you all too closely. it’s getting to the point where he’s learning your habits so thoroughly, he’s able to anticipate your needs.

it terrifies you because unearned kindness from a lover or a friend has only ever been followed by some kind of violence. some kind of resounding loss that fills you with emptiness. the image of your grandma and caleb surrounds your mind from all sides; your heart fills itself with grief until it overflows. and now you don’t know if you can trust him. or rather, trust him to love you back and be allowed to stay. so you run. you slink into shadows to avoid the pain of being known ( and it is painful to feel elation you can’t control because one day it’ll reshape itself into a monster of sorrow that swallows you ). but the best and worst thing about xavier is that he doesn’t give up. he’s always been relentless in even his gentle and quiet pursuits. it starts with a soft knocking at your door. you haven’t left your apartment much in days aside to clear your trash and it’s the third time he’s come by.  you know it’s him because a creature of habit in his own right, xavier knocks in the same pattern each time he comes.  the only difference is the sense of urgency has disappeared. it’s become hesitant, fearful almost. you could probably choke on your guilt if you weren’t so pre-occupied with the tears lodged in your throat. because everything hurts even when it shouldn’t. “baby?” you hear him call from behind the door. you don’t answer but your heart screams inside itself.

i’m here i’m here i’m here! nothing feels good; nothing feels right! i think i need you! please please please!

you lie in bed covering your head with your pillows like a frightened child trying to drown out the sound of a raging storm, pathetic as can be in your desperate need to escape your own desires to be with him.  your thoughts are in calamity, trapped somewhere between 'it’s not safe for me like this’ and ‘he’s the only thing that feels safe for me when i’m like this.’ truthfully, all you want is to tell him plainly that you’re struggling with your perception of yourself and him, but you can’t face him right now. not when your heart is up in the air like this, not when your eyes are puffy and red from the nonstop bouts of tears. not when you feel like you don’t deserve it. not when you feel like you haven’t felt enough shame for surviving to experience elation. silence falls but only momentarily before your phone vibrates beside you and the soft knocking continues.

xavier ⋮ 4:49 pm. i know you’re home. either something is wrong and you’re pushing me away or you’re severely injured. xavier ⋮ 4:52 pm. i think it’s the first thing because i saw you sneaking out of the building to take your trash out and you seemed physically well. please. i’m here. xavier ⋮ 5:00 pm. i’ll give you until 5:05 to open up on your own, but if you don’t, i have to come in and check on you okay? i just need to know you’re truly okay. if you need space, i need you to come tell me that please.

it’s a shame you never looked at your messages. maybe it would have been enough to get through to you.  maybe his soft reassurance that he knows what’s happening and still wants the best for you would have been enough to drag you out of bed and send your feet padding across the floor in all fairness. but true to your avoidant nature, you keep yourself tucked away. “aha,” you hear his ever-velvet voice suddenly in the center of your room despite not feeling his presence at all. “i think i found my missing bunny.” your heart jolts in your chest, scrambling to clamber up your throat in the form of a relieved sob. your shoulders shake from the strength of it forcing its way out of you. with no hesitation, the addition of xavier’s weight causes your bed to dip as he crawls to be at your side. he doesn’t pull the quilts back or try to coax you out. he just holds you, pulls your blanketed form closer to his own. his arms tighten their hold. “if i had known it was this bad i would have come sooner. i’m sorry.” but you think maybe he shouldn’t be sorry. you should.  because you’re the one who sees the world as a threat despite dedicating yourself to saving it. the contradiction of it all leaves you rivaling with a cognitive dissonance that feels impossible to resolve. “it’s not…it’s not you.” your voice cracks even as you whisper. “it’s me. it’s just me. it just…i can’t…all of it…” “shh,” he soothes. “you don’t have to explain yourself. it’s okay. right now, let’s just rest. isn’t that what you need? don’t worry about anything else.” it is. you need rest. comfort. love. the capacity to let yourself experience those things as they’re offered. and xavier.  he’ll be there but you know he won’t force you to accept his love. it’ll be up to you to take what you need from him and have the strength to admit when you need even more. sniffling, you slowly poke your head out of your blankets, letting your pillows fall to the side and looking up to finally face him. that’s your act of courage today, to be met with his gentle, welcoming smile and not punish yourself for wanting to keep something close to you, for not wanting it stolen again. he kisses your forehead tenderly. “i knew my bunny would come home. i just had to be patient.” “i’m sorry.” “i’m not in need of apologies at the moment, but i’ll graciously accept approximately three days worth of missing kisses.” in the pale blue of his eyes, there’s not even a drop of malice, resentment, or contempt to be found. if anything, there’s relief and fondness there. the tears well up in your eyes all over again. tentatively, you lean forward and offer his supple lips a ginger kiss. “i really am sorry.” “don’t be. not today. let’s just rest. all the other things can come later. there’s no hurry. i’m here, okay?” and he is. sometimes his patience and grace is a mercy you can’t even offer to yourself. it’s hard to forgive yourself for causing so many problems for others. it’s hard to forgive yourself for even things you can’t control: losing everything you know, everything that was left from losing everything once already. warm tears fall and you don’t try to stop them or shield them from sight. “you are here. aren’t you?” it’s more of a soft reminder for you, for these thoughts that crowd your mind and make you feel like a ghost in your own life: invisible and haunting everything, the source of everyone’s mourning when you go missing inside yourself. xavier nods, leaning his forehead against your own. “and i plan to keep it that way. i want to; i have to. i love you. so…you don’t need to worry about being alone anymore.” it won’t be perfect, but you’ll try your hardest to remember.

[anonymous-existences]

An Apparition in the Dark, Pt 1:

It's been a while. Yes, I was in hiatus, I still kinda am, the writer's block and the stress of personal life has struck me like Odysseus to Poseidon with the trident. But I'm gonna try my best to... Update my fics. :3

"I miss being human."

Danny Fenton, 17, Boy who has gone through so much, probably far too much for his age. Having run away from his very home to this hellhole that is Gotham, Why would he stay there? Because it's possibly the only place where he can hide from the bastards that are the GIW. He's not human so that makes him even more useful for the alleys, Crime Alley if we are being specific, he has hidden and ran away from the bats and they have never seen eye to eye.

Danny is a clever boy, ofcourse he would be because he's gone through a lot, but... Sometimes he reminisces of the time he was human. The time where he had no fear of being hunted down for experiments, the time when he didn't have to play hero for his town out of... The sense of responsibility he had taken upon himself when he died.

14 years old boy Danny, Died, in the very portal his parents had created in the name of science. Was it worth it? Danny wonders if his parents had felt the guilt of his death. Had they mourned him when they, by indirect faith, killed him. Because of their recklessness, because they were absolutely incapable of committing to lab safety precautions for their children.

Now, their boy.. Oh their little boy, Danny Fenton had ran away from home to they don't know where.

And Danny, He's just there. He will survive, he's always survived, he's survived death many times, he's faced the king of ghost, he's faced the god of time, he's faced gods and deities, he's faced more than a normal boy should.

"I miss feeling warm."

He is a ghost, a half ghost! Danny is a Halfa! He knows that, a lot knows that, that's why he's in Gotham anyways but they don't know that, they don't need to know he's partially dead. Just that he has abilities. He doesn't always need to play hero for these pricks, if anything he can use his abilities to play the role of... Justice.

Now he just sounds like A Bat, he doesn't wanna be labeled as a bat. Maybe... Maybe it wouldn't be so bad to be like them he thinks, he stares at them from afar as they... Converse and talk, they're totally brothers or related in some way.

The Bat Himself may or may not have noticed the little lingering presence that stares from the darkness, from afar. Actually, he's the first to notice out of all the bats surprisingly. He doesn't know what it is about the staring eyes but they're not malicious, They're.... Not dangerous, Not entirely but something about the presence felt like they're just... Small and meek.

They're cold but they occasionally longed for warmth, The Bat would leave 'treats' or money hidden away in a spot where these eyes could see, the way they watched him warily.

" . . . "

Now Red Robin wasn't stupid, Timothy Jackson Drake-Wayne wasn't stupid. He's been... Watching, Observing Bruce whenever he leaves those items in a hidden specific place, near the darkness. He doesn't question it, he didn't need to... Not Yet.

Taking notes of everything, every time the items disappear, when they were hidden, what date they were given, observing ever so closely as much as he could without causing suspicion on himself.

It was going well, no one else had noticed, Not even Bruce but suddenly, one day. Out of the blue, he felt a presence sit beside him on top of a building. "You're Red Robin right?" The invisible boy asks.

Before Tim could react, the invisible Presence spoke again, "You're warm.... I miss Feeling Warm." And then he disappeared, "Wait—!" RR reached out beside him where he felt the other person was but they were gone... Like a ghost.

". . . Safety?"

It's been a few months since then, he slowly got warmer with them, helping them occasionally when they're struggling. Fine he's gonna admit it but they feel like family now— family? Damn... He hasn't felt that connection in so long.

They've heard his voice, but he was still invisible, he was still afraid,, maybe. He laughs at their jokes, They include him with a lot of stuff and they kept implying that he should come home with them.... Yeah.

Maybe he should, Danny smiled to himself as he hovered and followed them back to the cave unbeknownst to them. He was amused and in awe, the Batcave! Wow! Maybe he'll follow them around more often now.

As he wandered around silently he saw them out of costume— okay, Maybe Danny shouldn't be actually following them without them knowing but— "I hope he knows he's safe here." Danny's ears perked up when he heard what seems to be signal, or Duke as he's learned, spoke.

".... Safety?" He mumbled under his breathe, a bit taken aback by that sentence. They want him to be safe...? That... That was new....

Yeah.

This was nice.

"..... Safety."

[little-miss-dilf-lover]

TENDER CARE. 18+

pairing. bucky barnes x fem!reader

summary. you’ve been feeling insecure lately and your boyfriend, bucky knows just the way to make you feel pretty

word count. 2847

warnings. 18+ only!! hurt/comfort, reader feeling insecure, lots of hand kissing bc that shit makes me weak, kissing in general, praise, body worshiping, oral (f receiving) little bit of titty stuff, unprotected pinv sex, bucky being the best bf. minors dni

It was late, the evening quiet - the winter moon, a bright slither of silver amongst the dark blue sky. 

As you lay in your bed, admiring her -the moon’s- beauty through the condensation of your window, your mind begins to drift, irrationality throwing hurdles at you. Your brain darting back and forth to those same thoughts you've been having more of lately - ones where doubt and insecurity flood any sense of logicality. 

You knew you had no reason to feel this way. Your boyfriend always went to grave lengths to ensure you felt loved and appreciated, showing you nothing but tender care. Though, there was just something in your brain, that little green gremlin instilling distrust within you - no fault to him.

You felt isolated with your sense of humility, often feeling as though you didn't have someone to confide in, someone to talk to. It wasn't an easy topic to bring up, and although you felt comfortable enough with Bucky to share your mind freely, this was something that you just could not stomach. 

Not only were you thinking about yourself, you were thinking of Bucky. The thought of admitting to him you felt insecure in your relationship felt like the highest form of betrayal. To confess to the man who's been torn apart and stitched together more times than one can count - that you felt unlovable, was something you couldn't bear. 

The amount of hurt you would cause him simply by sharing was enough to deter you. So, for that reason alone, you kept it hidden. Letting yourself wallow in the crappy feeling unaided. 

Your phone vibrates on your nightstand beside you, the screen obnoxiously bright - the white almost blinding you within your dim bedroom. Teary-eyed, you peek over at the caller ID, your boyfriend's name displayed beside his picture. 

You wanted to talk to him - to hear his voice, but you knew your wavering tone would give away your dismal state. So, you let his call go to voicemail, like all his others from this evening. 

Feeling guilt-ridden for declining his calls, you pick up your phone, deciding to send him a text instead. But when you unlock your phone, you see a pile of missed messages from Bucky, each text growing more and more worried at your sudden disappearance - his last one reading, 'I'll be over in 10' which was nearly ten minutes ago. 

You exhale in frustration, cursing yourself as you wipe your eyes - carefully blotting the sensitive skin with one hand, the other typing a response. You decided on a small, white lie, replying, 'sorry, I was sleeping.'

The second your thumb presses send, you hear a frantic string of taps on your door - the repeated sound of knuckles knocking. You take a moment to situate yourself before making your way to your front entrance, socked feet paddling over to answer. 

You peek through the peephole, your boyfriend on the other side - visibly distressed as he rakes through the front strands of his hair. You reach for the handle, unlocking the door with an expression you were sure to be disgrace. "I'm so sorry. I was in—" you start.

"Are you okay? You didn't answer. I got worried— I thought something happened," Bucky cuts you off, walking past you and stepping into your apartment.

You close the door behind him, turning to meet his frazzled features. "I know, I know. I'm really sorry. My phone was on silent, and I was in bed. I didn't see anything til just now," you confess, sharing parts of the truth.

He deeply exhales, gaze softening as he looks over you. He pauses, seeming like he's analysing you, eyes honing in on your evading ones. "What's wrong?" 

You knew your gag would be up sooner or later, but you didn't expect it to be this soon. Sometimes, it was like your boyfriend knew things about you before you even did yourself - as though you failed to remember who you were talking to.

"Nothing," you smile, kissing his cheek as you step past him. "Just tired— didn't sleep properly."

"Yeah?" he hums, not quite believing your half-truths. He kicks off his boots and follows you into your room, soft footsteps behind you like a shadow. "How was your day?" he asks, talking like he's scoping you out.

You sit on the foot of your bed, shrugging at him dismissingly. "Same old. How was yours?"

He steps towards you, eyes darting around your room before focusing on you - everything becoming more apparent. "Fine. Good," he nods, softly groaning as he takes a crouch in front of you, kneeling on the floor between your legs so he's level with you. "What's wrong? What's going on?" he asks, eyes following you with the movement of his head, brows narrowing.

"Nothing," you reply, speaking faintly. Responding minimally in case your voice were to break.

"No?" he questions, placing a delicate hand over your knee - the palm emitting warmth onto your skin through the fabric of your pyjamas.

You shake your head, bottom lip beginning to waver under his attention. 

"Then what's on your mind?" he asks gently, his tone warm and concerned.

"I told you," you avoid his eyes, looking down at your hands on your lap. "Didn't sleep well."

He sighs at your tenacity to push him away, head cocking to the side. He adjusts the stance on his knees, and your hands scramble for him - reaching out and holding onto him as if you were to stop him from leaving. Though only he wasn't leaving - he was just getting more comfortable. 

"I wasn't leaving," he murmurs, slipping his hands into yours, thumb brushing over the back of your hand assuringly. "Did you think I was going to leave you?" he asks, lips lining into a faint frown.

You notice his brows tug upwards in the middle, the tell-tell sign he was beginning to think too hard. "No, I was just— I... don't know."

"Well, I'm not," he responds shortly, speaking like he was being stern with you - tough love. "Now, what's going on with you?" he asks, his grip on your hand tightening with a reassuring squeeze, the silent act encouraging you. 

You inhale steadily, letting the air fill your lungs. "I haven't been feeling good."

He keeps his eyes on yours, following you. "Okay, why?" he questions shortly, wanting to get to the root of the problem as quickly as possible.

"I've been sad."

"Why?

You shrug. "I just have."

"I need more than that. Why have you been sad?"

"I don't know."

"Why?" he repeats, brows straightening.  

"Because I feel... ugly."

He hesitates, his shoulders slumping at your confession, visibly digesting your words. "Ugly?" he recites, the remark leaving a foul taste on his tongue. "Honey," he lingers, softly shaking his head.

Bucky stills, his forehead creasing with what you perceive to be pity. His mouth opens as though he's going to say something, only for it to snap back shut. He faintly sighs, bringing your hand to his lips. "You know that's not true, right?" he rhetorically asks, pressing a kiss into the back of your hand.

You don't say anything, the only reply being a short exhale and an awkward smile.

"Because I think you..." he pauses, kissing another patch into your hand. "Are the prettiest," a slow smile lining his lips - an expression that's now mirroring yours.

It was so simple. Everything Bucky did to reassure you - he did with ease. Just the tiny, loving act instantly melting the tension in your mind. His care for you pushing away any sense of self-doubt.

He peppers another kiss into your hand. And another - littering a short string of them over your wrist. "Don't listen to your brain, okay? She's not always right," he murmurs, expression softening like it was reassuring his words.

"I know," you nod, weakly smiling at him. "Just—"

"Hard. I know," Bucky finishes your sentence, nodding at you understandingly. 

He leans forward and places a soft kiss on the centre of your lips - his own brushing over yours sweetly, the action grounding and comforting. He pulls away first, eyes half-lidded as they glance over you, focusing on the almost pleading look on your face.

Your free hand reaches up to his face, palm enclosing his jaw as you bring him back in for a kiss - lips working over his more urgently than the time before. 

"Thank you," you mumble against his mouth, merely pulling away to show your appreciation. "You're so kind to me."

His grip loosens on your hand, now sliding both up to your face, cupping your cheeks as he deepens the kiss - tongue slipping into your mouth willingly. His lips leave yours, trailing a line of kisses along your jaw and down the side of your throat. 

"Always," he murmurs, the short word muffling into your skin. Whispering, "I want to show you just how pretty you are."

A soft whine-like hum vibrates in your throat, the noise accepting his words eagerly. Your hand trails into the short strands of hair at the back of his head, fingers grazing his scalp as you hold him to the crook of your neck. Neck tilting to the side, allowing him more access to you as you reach for his jacket, pushing the fabric off his broad shoulders. 

He presses a final kiss into a patch of your skin and pulls away, looking at your ever-softening features - eyes and brows growing pliant under his attention. His hands slowly roam down to the hem of your t-shirt, fingers hooking under the fabric as they lift, pulling it off your head in a steady, swift motion.

You sit in front of him, chest bare and on display in front of him, letting him take you in - not shying away like you did earlier.

Bucky remains quiet, his eyes fixed on the lewd sight before him, silently storing the image for safekeeping. He brings his hands up towards your tits, cupping under each - holding them in his palms. "So beautiful," he hums, leaning in to place a kiss on the swell below your nipple, giving his attention to each breast.

He rolls them in his strong hands, delicately playing and toying with them, thumbs skimming over your sensitive, hardening nipples, pressing kisses into the skin above. He looks up at you from between your tits, eyes full of love, full of warmth - looking up into your blissed ones with nothing adoration. 

He places a hand over your middle - fingers spread wide as he nudges you backwards, silently and carefully laying you down. Your bare back against the covers with him kneeling on the floor between your spread thighs. 

Barely leaning over you, he reaches up to kiss a trail over your abdomen, lips skimming along your jittering stomach as his fingers slip into the waistband of your underwear and pyjama bottoms. He pulls them down - light tugs as he drags them off your hips and down your thighs, grazing kisses over your now-exposed skin as he undresses your lower half. 

Pulling the fabric off your ankles, he sets it aside, replacing the material that just covered you with kisses - lips grazing up the length of your legs, chaste pecks over your skin like he was worshipping you. The kisses trail higher and higher, reaching up to the crease between your thigh and cunt where he continues the worship, tongue faintly swiping over the skin.

Your hands worm into the roots of his dark hair, fingers locking on the shorts as you hold him to where you want him, guiding him to the needy little spot between your thighs. Chest rising and falling, inner thighs twitching as the anticipation builds in your stomach.

He situates himself in front of your pussy, lips mere inches away as he softly breathes over it - teasing you, his eyes locked on your trembling stomach above. He places a peck on the bottom of your slit. And another. Lining a stripe of kisses up your cunt til he reaches your clit where he skates past the nub, tongue skimming over it.

Hands working over your thighs and to your hips, he adjusts you, placing your legs over his shoulders - letting them drape freely over his blades as he delves in deeper between your thighs, caressing your plushy folds with his lips and tongue. 

You murmur the first half of his name only to be cut off by a whine, the desperate noise catching in your throat when he nips at your clit, his lips wrapping around the mound - tongue skillfully flickering across. 

The noises he muffles are lewd and obscene - gruff, soft groans as he adulates your pussy, pushing his mouth in closer. Your fingers tug tighter on his roots at the consuming feeling, back lifting from the bed in an arch, mindlessly grinding your cunt into his face. 

Within minutes, you become a twitching, moaning pile of mush, coating his chin with your slick as you cum - thighs clamping around Bucky's head between.

He places a final kiss on your pubic bone before pulling away, standing up with a chubbed-up cock in his pants, the area tenting after tasting you. You hold his gaze, looking up at him with blissed eyes and a stir in your stomach - the sight of him making your cunt twitch. 

He wipes the wet from his chin on the back of his hand, briskly drying his stubble before undressing his lower half - tugging down on his combat pants and boxers, letting the material pool around his ankles as his cock springs free. Full length hard and ready, tip leaking precum. 

You scooch up your bed, resting flat with your head on the pillow, eagerly awaiting him. Your thighs instinctively spread as he crawls up the bed and between your legs, slotting his lower half between you - anchoring his weight on his hands either side of your head.

He leans in to kiss you, making you taste yourself on his tongue, the residual creamy slick transferring onto your own. Cock absentmindedly rubbing up against your pussy, the faint friction making you whimper into his mouth.

Your hands hook into the hem of his t-shirt, fingers gripping the bottom of the fabric as you guide it up his back, pulling it over his head as you break the kiss - his chest now bare and up against yours. 

Balancing on his left metal hand, he dips the other between you, reaching for his cock, wrapping his fingers around the base. He gives himself a few short strokes, guiding his head towards you - pushing his tip through the slick of your folds, coating his cock in your wetness before sinking into you.

You take him at your own pace, walls fluttering and loosening around his shaft as he eases more of himself into you - your pussy swallowing little bits of him at a time. Your hand paws at his wrist placed on your hip, fingers enveloping around the thickness, silently pleading and begging him to get closer.

He looks down at the lewd sight of you spread out in front of him: your brows knitted, eyes soft, lips bitten - natural, unadulterated beauty all desperate and malleable for him. He notices the bliss cloud in your eyes and gives your glistening, stuffed pussy a final once over before hovering back over you, chest lingering above yours. 

His lips skim over your jaw, trailing even more kisses down the side of your throat, giving you easing, reassuring pecks as he slips more of his cock into you - distracting you from the dull ache. 

"You are so beautiful," he whispers into your skin, sealing the compliment with a kiss. "You really are," he adds, pressing kisses into your shoulder. "I don't know how you don't see it."

You bend at the knee, holding it at his side - the new angle opening your hips wider, allowing that last bit of his cock to slide in, head hitting at the hilt. You keep him snug to you, arms lazily wrapped around his neck, your other leg entangling with his as your lips shadow each other. 

The moonlit room fills with soft, wet clicking - the sound of your pussy and sticky skin hitting cuts through the bliss-filled noises that slip past both of your lips, lewd noises surrounding you in the dark.

Bucky pulls his forehead from the crook of your neck to look down at you, eyes hinting at something - like his mind was temporarily elsewhere.

"Earlier," he starts, his voice hoarse as his hips wind into you, cock rubbing your walls so nicely. "When you said that thing," he adds, following your eyes when they bashfully divert away. "You tell me when you feel like that... I'd be happy to remind you just how pretty you are."

a/n. I had an idea for myself, what?? and my first full fic in almost a year??

[chvoswxtch]

part one: the call

[series masterlist] | [part two]

pairing: billy russo x fem!reader

summary: a ghost from the past has returned.

warnings: swearing, angst, mentions of murder, creepy sleazy boss & brief mentions of sexual harassment, billy being the cocky lil shit he is

word count: 3.8k

a/n: ahhhhhhh! i've been working on this for the past few months & i'm so excited to finally put it out. I really really really hope y'all enjoy it. this is only 6 parts, so it will not be a slow burn. it's gonna get intense fast. also, there is an oc name mentioned, but it's just for the backstory of the plot. this is still a self insert, & y/n will be used for the rest of the story! without further ado, let's get this spooky slutty season started. as always, feedback is welcomed/appreciated!

This was a bad dream. It had to be. There was no other logical way to explain why you were currently sitting in an interrogation room at a precinct, being questioned by police about a man that you had gone on a blind date with not even twelve hours ago, who had been found stabbed to death in an alley two blocks away from your apartment building.

It was just a nightmare. It wasn’t real. All you had to do was open your eyes, and this would all go away. You knew how to deal with nightmares. You knew how to escape them. You’d been running and hiding from them your whole life. All you had to do was open your eyes, and the sinister shadows wouldn't be able to sink their claws into your subconscious to trap you in the dark. Just open them, and this will all disappear. 

Just open your eyes.

“Miss Y/L/N?”

The detective’s voice swiftly brought you out of the trance of denial your mind had wandered into, and your eyes snapped open. To your dismay, nothing changed. The two detectives were still sitting across the table from you, the metal cold against your sweaty palms, one eying you warily while the other regarded you with a more sympathetic stare. The chair beneath you was still stiff and uncomfortable, the light above was still a harsh shade of artificial brightness, and the large piece of glass to your right that reflected your terrified expression still made you feel unsettled knowing there was someone watching you just on the other side of that two-way pane.

“I…I’m sorry. What was the question?”

The waver in your voice gave away how shaken you were by the whole ordeal. When the police had shown up at your office an hour ago stating they needed to bring you in for questioning regarding the murder of Adam Mercer, shock had instantly shot through your entire nervous system, chilling the very blood in your veins with an icy sense of dread. 

This was the kind of thing you heard about happening in the news. A tragedy that struck someone else’s life. A nameless, faceless person whose existence you were unaware of. It was the kind of thing nobody ever thought could happen to them, until it did.

The older detective, the more commiserating one, had said they thought it was some kind of mugging gone wrong. It wasn’t an uncommon occurrence in New York City, unfortunately. The dazzling city was also dangerous. But since you were the last person to see Adam alive, they needed as much information as you could give them about the last few hours of his life. For some odd reason, it filled you with a sense of guilt that his final moments had been spent with you, a complete stranger, instead of someone else. 

Adam had been a really nice guy. He’d seemed to enjoy the date. He’d thrown his head back and laughed like a little kid at a stupid joke you’d told. He’d flashed you a charming smile when you’d nearly knocked your glass of wine over into your pasta. He’d animatedly told you about his family’s tradition of selecting a perfect tree together at a local Christmas farm back in his home state of Jersey every holiday season. He’d been sweet and gentle and respectful. But had he been happy? 

Had he succumbed to the inevitable fate of death at his attacker’s hands without a fight? Did he even see it coming? Had he had that moment, where everything flashed before his eyes, all his mistakes, all his regrets, all the would’ve, could’ve, should'ves? 

You knew what that feeling was like. You’d been there, once before. Nothing makes you want to live more than Death deciding to show up at your door and pick the lock with its cold, bony fingers to collect a bounty early. 

Thirteen times. Adam had been brutally stabbed thirteen times. It was excessive for a mugging. It felt more personal, that kind of anger and passion. As morbid as the thought was, you hoped the first one had killed him. You hoped he that went into shock swiftly and bled out just as fast so he hadn’t suffered through the next twelve.

Holding his pen in his right hand, the tip hovering over his worn yellow pocket sized notepad, Detective Craven repeated his question.

“How well did you know Adam?”

“I…I didn’t. I’d never met him until last night. My roommate um…she knew him. She’s the one who set us up.”

“Your roommate being Miss Riley?”

Detective Williamson had his hands clasped together in front of him on the table. He lifted one of his brows while waiting for you to answer his question. Swallowing thickly, you gave a faint nod of your head and dropped your hands to your lap, fidgeting with them under the table anxiously. 

“Yeah, Annie.”

Detective Craven cleared his throat, reading over his notes with his honey brown eyes as he continued his questioning.

“Now, you said he picked you up at your apartment around eight-thirty, the two of you had dinner at Maureen’s, and then he dropped you back off at your place around eleven. He left right after that?”

“Yeah, he…um…we said goodnight, he said he’d like to see me again, and then he told me he’d call me tomorrow.”

“He didn’t come up to your apartment at all?”

Detective Williamson didn’t bother hiding the skepticism in his voice, or the implication behind his words, his icy blue eyes locked on you in an almost unsettling way.

“No, he dropped me off at the front steps of the building.”

“And you didn’t see where he went when he left? Didn’t give him one last look after a goodnight kiss?”

A flash of annoyance broke through your stunned disbelief at the invasive second question. You hadn’t said anything about a kiss. The younger detective seemed to be fishing for a crack in your alibi for some reason, trying to catch you in a lie that didn’t exist. A flicker of defensiveness crept into your voice when you spoke.

“No, after we said goodnight, I went inside.”

Before Detective Williamson could ask another thinly veiled judgmental question, Detective Craven stood up, shooting his partner a silencing look. Glancing down at you with a warmer expression, the older man gestured towards the door with his hand.

“That’s all the questions we have for now. We appreciate you speaking with us. I’ll walk you out.”

The precinct was bustling. Various murmurs of conversation buzzed in your ears. People were breezing past in every direction, but amidst the sea of chaos, you spotted a familiar head of blonde hair. Annie jumped up from the chair she’d been sitting in and forced her way through the waves of people, not once muttering an “excuse me” or waiting for someone to move out of her way. A true New Yorker.

Detective Craven placed his hand on your shoulder to get your attention and held out a white business card that had all of his information on it in embossed black text.

“If you can think of anything else that might be helpful, don’t hesitate to call.”

Taking the card into your hand, you looked up at him and forced a tight smile onto your lips, giving him a faint nod of your head.

“Of course.”

After giving your shoulder a light squeeze, Detective Craven gave Annie a nod of acknowledgement before turning and disappearing back inside the interrogation room. As soon as you turned to face her, Annie’s face contorted into an expression of pity and concern. She immediately pulled you into a hug, and it took everything in you not to crumble under the weight of your own overwhelming emotions.

“Come on, let’s go home.”

»»———　　———««

Annie had swiftly shot down your plan to go back to work before the words could even fully leave your lips. All you wanted to do was dive head first into a distraction, to immerse yourself fully in the piles of paper and black ink sitting on your desk that were waiting to transport you to another universe and into the body of someone else whose world hadn’t just been flipped upside down. Again. 

Instead, she brought you back to your shared apartment, uncorked a bottle of wine for each of you, and did her best to help you sort through the shock and the ripples it caused within you. She didn’t understand that your instinct was to run and hide, and that was because she didn’t understand you, not really. But that wasn’t her fault. She could only understand what you allowed her to, and there were huge pieces of yourself you kept hidden from her and everyone else beneath carefully crafted layers.

Pieces you were not ready to uncover and face yet.

The following morning when you showed up to work at the publishing house, it felt like everyone was looking through you instead of at you. Everyone had heard what happened, had seen the two detectives escorting you out of your office, but none of your coworkers said a word. Not to your face, anyway. You could feel the weight of their lingering stares, their hushed whispers floating past your ear like a cold autumn breeze. It was a familiar territory you’d already escaped once.

To your relief, you hadn’t been harassed by reporters wanting an exclusive on the story. Unfortunately, crimes like what had happened to Adam were a dime a dozen in this city. You felt guilty for feeling grateful for that, but not having cameras shoved in your face to be broadcast on news outlets that circulated on social media worked in your favor. You had come to the city that millions of people called home for a reason. You came here to disappear, to be invisible. The last thing you needed was to be thrust into a spotlight that would attract attention you’d gone to great lengths to avoid.

In the midst of trying to drown out the white noise of suspicious gossip and ignoring the way the stares penetrating the glass windows of your office made your insides twist in dreaded knots, you almost missed the sound of a knock at your door. Lifting your head, you were met with the sight of the last person you ever expected to see standing in the doorway.

Billy Russo.

He was significantly more dressed up than the last time you’d seen him, looking every bit the illustrious CEO, although that signature arrogant smirk of his seemed to be missing for once. His tall frame was covered in a deep navy blue three piece suit with a crisp white dress shirt beneath the matching tie, a dark charcoal gray thick coat layering over top. His raven hair was gelled back perfectly, just like it was that night at the bar, but the gleam of mischief in his dark brown eyes was absent. As he stood in the doorway of your office, nearly taking up the entire frame, he seemed to be looking at you in an expression of something that resembled concern.

“Billy.”

The surprise in your hushed tone rang clear in the quiet of your office. Billy removed the black leather gloves from his hands, slipping them into the pocket of his overcoat.

“This a bad time?”

Your lips parted slightly as your eyes flickered down to the open manuscript on your desk before looking up at him again.

“Um…no. No…I…what are you doing here?”

Billy took a step forward into your office and quietly closed the door behind himself.

“Just came by to check on ya.”

“Check on me?”

“Derek told me what happened.”

Billy kept his eyes locked on you as he explained the reasoning behind his unexpected visit, watching you closely.

Derek Becker was a friend of Billy’s. They had served in the military together, and he now worked for Billy’s private security company, Anvil. Derek also happened to be Annie’s boyfriend. A few months back, the two of them had tried to set you and Billy up. The four of you had gone out to a bar for drinks, but instead of hitting it off with Billy, you’d found him narcissistic, and you’d had no interest in pursuing anything romantic with him. Although, based on how he had interacted with you that night, it had seemed like he hadn’t been looking for anything romantic either, just a night of physical release.

Because Annie was your best friend and roommate, and Derek was often around, you’d seen Billy a few times since then, but it wasn’t like the two of you were friends. Needless to say, the fact that he’d made the trip to your office to check on your mental wellbeing was a bit of a shock.

“I’m fine.”

Billy arched one of his dark brows, and the ghost of a smile graced the edge of his lips.

“You almost sounded like you meant that.”

You opened your mouth to fire back a retort, to protest the underlying accusation in his words, but your defense got stuck in your throat. Seeing the look on your face, Billy’s faint amusement quickly disappeared, and he let out a deep exhale through his nose as he took a few steps closer towards your desk.

“I’m sorry, I’m not here to be a dick. But it’s alright if you’re not fine. Normal people wouldn’t be fine in this situation.”

“Normal people?”

Billy stared down at you for a moment silently before turning his head to look out the glass window of your office, rubbing his large palm over his mouth and perfectly trimmed beard. Looking down at you again, a flicker of amusement was back in his gaze, and there was a hint of a smile on his lips.

“I got a real good habit of sayin’ the wrong thing with you, huh?”

The self deprecation you detected in his smooth voice surprised you. You’d never heard him say anything that didn’t have an undertone of superiority or didn’t sound prideful. The guy standing in front of you wasn’t acting like the cocky rich playboy you were used to, and it made you wonder for a second if that’s what it really was; an act. A flicker of newfound curiosity had you wondering if Billy’s persona was as carefully crafted as your own.

“I don’t know if I’d call that a good habit.”

Billy let out a puff of air past his lips, giving a faint shake of his head in faux disapproval.

“Kickin’ a man while he’s down? That’s ruthless, sweetheart.”

“I think your ego can survive being knocked down a few pegs.”

Billy let out a deep chuckle at that, and his lips spread into a wolfish grin.

“Between you and me, it’s a bit more fragile than you think.”

You looked at him in faux shock, an overly dramatic gasp leaving your lips.

“What? You mean the ego you overcompensate for with designer clothes and fancy cars is delicate?”

Billy rolled his eyes and held his hand up in a gesture of surrender.

“Alright, alright. I get it. You’ve kept me humble enough for one day.”

To your surprise, and to Billy’s, you smiled. It was small, but it was real and genuine. Billy’s impromptu visit was the last thing you expected to provide a lighthearted distraction to the whirlwind of chaos that had been plaguing you since yesterday. 

As much as you hadn’t been able to stand him the night you met him, you couldn’t deny that the banter between you came effortlessly. Within the first five minutes of meeting him, you’d called him a ‘self obsessed dumbass’, and instead of getting offended, he’d smiled. It had quickly launched into a battle of wits, who could come up with the more clever retort faster, and it only took half an hour for Derek and Annie to become exhausted, realizing they’d made a huge mistake and miscalculated their match making skills. Billy seemed to enjoy antagonizing you, and you couldn’t resist putting a man like him in his place.

Everytime the two of you were around each other, it was exactly the same. Just an endless cycle of unrequited flirting and unrestrained snark.

“Humble is not exactly a word I’d use to describe you, Russo.”

Before Billy could respond, your office door suddenly opened and your boss walked in, glancing between you and Billy in a mixture of curiosity and barely concealed displeasure. He seemed to size him up before turning his attention towards you, not so subtly letting his eyes roam over your figure sitting behind your desk in a way that made your skin crawl, which wasn’t missed by Billy. John gestured his head in Billy’s direction.

“Another detective?”

There was clear annoyance in John’s voice that didn’t go unnoticed by you. It wasn’t lost on Billy either, and his posture seemed to go rigid.

“No. No, um…friend.”

Friend. Using that word to describe Billy tasted foreign on your tongue, but Billy didn’t appear to react to it. His dark brown eyes sized John up in a similar fashion as your boss had done to him, only Billy didn’t even attempt to hide his judgment and lack of impression.

“You know, most people knock before just walkin’ in.”

Both yours and John’s heads turned towards Billy. You were momentarily stunned by the way Billy had so casually called out John’s abrupt intrusion, and John looked visibly irritated, but he turned to face Billy with a forced smile on his mouth.

“I don’t think we’ve met. I’m John Altieri. I own this publishing house.”

Unlike John, Billy didn’t plaster a fake smile on his face for politeness, or speak in a faux friendly tone. Maintaining eye contact, he reached out to grasp John’s outstretched hand with more firmness than necessary as he shook it.

“Billy Russo. I own the building.”

That bombshell had you sitting up straighter in your chair and blinking a few times in surprise. Billy owned the building? Since when? That was definitely news to you.

The smile on John’s face faltered for a moment, but he quickly recovered and nodded, trying to appear unphased by that revelation.

“Pleasure. If you don’t mind, I have some important things to discuss with Y/N/N. In private.”

Billy outwardly looked calm and collected, but you swore you saw a flicker of anger in his dark brown eyes. He didn’t seem to like hearing your boss refer to you with a nickname that was spoken with too saccharine of a tone for a superior to speak about their employee. Not that you liked it either. John seemed to always maintain a balance on that tightrope of not being inappropriate enough to report him to HR, but being too friendly for you to not feel uncomfortable. 

The bastard was clever, you’d give him that. He knew what he was doing. He was careful and cautious enough that it couldn’t be classified as textbook harassment, and could be argued as a simple misunderstanding. It made you want to stab him with your pen every time you caught him staring at your chest or your legs.

After letting a purposeful uncomfortable moment of silence pass, Billy looked down at John, that signature smirk you were used to seeing on his lips spreading slowly like a sun rising over the skyline.

“Of course.”

Turning his head to look at you again, Billy gave you a faint nod of his head and a wink.

“See ya later, sweetheart.”

Giving John one last final unimpressed and cold side eye, Billy pulled his leather gloves out of his overcoat pocket and turned to leave your office with a confident stride, leaving you and John alone in your office, and your mind swirling with a flurry of questions about Billy Russo.

»»———　　———««

By the time you walked through the front door of yours and Annie’s shared apartment, all you wanted was a hot shower and a few hours of sleep. You’d spent last night tossing and turning, haunted by the nightmare your life had once again turned into, and you felt the exhaustion in every cell of your body. Tossing your keys into the little green bowl on the side table by the front door, your footsteps were slow and sluggish as you headed down the hall on the left towards your bedroom.

Dropping your purse onto your bed, you sat down on the edge of it and slipped off your shoes, letting them drop on the hardwood floor with a soft thud. Letting out a deep exhale, you closed your eyes and hunched over, covering your face with both of your hands. The muffled noise of your ringtone began to sound from your purse. Dragging your palms down your face, you slipped one of your hands into your purse to dig for your phone blindly, absentmindedly hitting the answer button and bringing it to your ear.

“Hello?”

“Hello Y/N.”

The voice that sounded on the other end of the line wasn’t one you recognized. Pulling your phone away from your ear, you looked down at the lit screen and read “unknown caller”. A furrow creased between your brows as you brought your phone back up to your ear, running one of your hands through the roots of your hair to push it back.

“I’m sorry, who is this?”

“I guess your new boyfriend didn’t make the cut.”

Immediately your hand froze, and your eyes widened. A mix of confusion, disbelief, and anger coursed through you, but the latter won out.

“Excuse me?”

Your tone quickly shifted from one of puzzlement to pure fury as you sat up straighter. A sinister chuckle from the deep mysterious voice on the other end of the line further incensed you.

“Did you really think I’d let anyone else have you, Cassia?”

The phone slipped out of your hand, dropping to the floor below with a harsh sound that didn’t even register in your ears. A pit of dread opened up in your stomach, and fear trickled down your spine as if someone had started to trace the frozen sharp tip of an icicle along the back of your neck. Panic spread through your nervous system like a lit match to a dehydrated forest, and the four walls of your bedroom began to close in around you, squeezing the last breath of oxygen from your lungs.

No one in New York knew that name. 

You’d left it back in California, along with your past. The past that had forced you to run to the other side of the country and bury every trace of who you were before. The past that you tried so hard to forget and cover up with a new identity and a new life. The past that was taunting you from the other end of the line.

The past that had come back, and murdered Adam.

He’d found you.

tags: @thyme-in-a-bubble @ferns-fics @danzer8705 @to-thelakes @simonsgirl @sweetserendipity65 @zomtart @day-dreaming-goddess @caroblogsthings @thomasshelbyswife @snowkestrel @hallowedtangerine @ameliaswife @dreadfulxives18 @ebsmind @lllla717 @slumnit

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[bettys-redwinesupernova]

BLOWING SMOKE

rafe cameron x fem!reader

SUMMARY: after rafe betrays her trust, y/n exposes his lies at a party, humiliating him in front of everyone—and walking away without looking back.

based on this ask !! i hope it’s what you asked for anon, sorry it’s not super soul-crushing but it’s very angsty and includes cheating >:( fuck cheaters !!

(check out my other rafe cameron & drew starkey works here !!)

WARNINGS: cheating, angst w/ no happy ending, allusions to sex, alcohol consumption, cursing, bad bitch!reader, asshole!rafe, mentions of daddy issues, reader finally putting rafe in his place, i’m thinking season 1/2 rafe because he was a cocky little shit🙄 (lmk if i missed anything !!)

WORD COUNT: 1.2k

THIRD PERSON +

The air at the Boneyard was thick with salt and sweat, the bonfire crackling like a living thing, casting long shadows over the shifting sand. Laughter and music mixed with the sound of waves crashing against the shore, the party in full swing. But Y/N wasn't here for fun.

Her grip on the red solo cup was tight, knuckles white from how hard she was holding it. The drink inside had gone warm, untouched. It wasn't why she came.

She was here for Rafe.

Her heart wasn't racing anymore. The initial sting of betrayal had settled into something colder, something sharper. She had spent days, weeks, pretending not to notice the whispers, the way people looked at her with pity. She had ignored the concerned glances from JJ, the hesitance in Pope's voice when he said, "Maybe you should talk to Sarah." She had brushed off Kie's sighs, the way she muttered, "You're not gonna like what you hear."

She had known. Deep down, she had known.

And then Sarah had confirmed it.

"I didn't want to tell you," Sarah had said earlier that evening, voice low, like she could somehow soften the blow. "But you deserve better. Rafe's been seeing other girls, Y/N. He's been lying to you."

Lying. Cheating. Playing her for a fool.

And then she had seen it with her own eyes.

Rafe Cameron, her Rafe, the boy who had spent countless nights tangled up with her, whispering things he swore he meant—his hands were on another girl. Blonde, pretty, giggling at something he said while he leaned in just a little too close.

And suddenly, all the times he'd shown up late, all the unexplained disappearances, the half-hearted apologies, they made sense.

She had been so fucking stupid.

But Y/N felt nothing now. No heartbreak, no regret. Just ice-cold clarity.

Rafe Cameron had walked into her life when she was at her weakest, slipping through the cracks her ex had left behind. He had smiled, kissed her, whispered things that felt too easy, too smooth. It was never supposed to be anything real, just something casual, just a way to forget. But then it had changed.

He had changed.

Late-night conversations that lasted until dawn. Foreheads pressed together, words left unspoken. His arms around her waist, his voice low when he admitted, "I don't do this, but with you..."

Lies. All of it.

And now, she was going to make sure everyone knew exactly what kind of person Rafe Cameron really was.

She spotted him easily—he was impossible to miss. A walking ego dressed in an expensive polo shirt, short sleeves clinging to his toned biceps. A sight that would usually make her knees weak—not anymore. He was laughing with his friends, head thrown back, completely unaware of the storm heading his way.

Y/N pushed through the crowd, ignoring the murmurs, the knowing glances.

"Rafe."

Her voice cut through the music, through the party.

He turned, blue eyes locking onto hers. For a split second, there was something unreadable in his expression—maybe surprise, maybe guilt. But then it was gone, replaced by that familiar smirk, the one he always wore when he thought he could charm his way out of anything.

"Baby," he drawled, tilting his head. "Didn't think you'd show."

"Yeah?" She took another step forward, voice sharp. "Well, I had a few things I wanted to say to you."

Something in her tone made the smirk slip.

"Tell me, Rafe," she continued, loud enough for everyone to hear. "Is she prettier than she was on the internet?"

A hush fell over the crowd. Conversations died. Even the music felt quieter.

Rafe's brows furrowed. "What?"

"You heard me." She crossed her arms. "You've been screwing around, haven't you?"

Murmurs spread through the party, people shifting closer, drawn to the unfolding scene like moths to a flame.

Rafe let out a short laugh, but it wasn't confident—it was forced. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Bullshit."

Her voice was steady. She wouldn't cry. She wouldn't break. Not for him.

"You knew my last love let me down," she said, tone cutting. "It was your one perfect opening, wasn't it? You saw me hurting, and you thought, why not? You wanted something easy. Someone easy. And the moment it stopped being fun for you, the moment it got real, you did what you always do. You ran."

Rafe's jaw clenched. "Y/N, stop."

"No." She took a step closer, her voice unwavering. "You don't get to tell me what to do. You're just a spoiled little bitch with daddy issues, aren't you? You think money fixes everything, that you can get away with anything. But you know what, Rafe? You just look stupid."

Someone in the crowd—JJ, probably—let out a low whistle.

"You look stupid going out," she continued, her voice rising. "If she's got a pulse, she meets your standards now. It's pathetic."

Rafe's face darkened, but he said nothing. Because he knew she was right.

"You couldn't point her out in any crowd, could you?" Y/N's voice was mocking now, full of venom. "She doesn't matter. None of them do. They're just distractions, just more girls to help you bury the baggage you've been carrying."

A few gasps echoed through the crowd. Even Topper, standing nearby, looked disappointed.

"Man," Topper muttered, shaking his head. "What the fuck?"

"Yeah," JJ piped up, crossing his arms. "I mean, we all knew you were an asshole, but even for you, this is low."

Rafe's hands curled into fists at his sides. "Shut the fuck up, Maybank."

"Or what?" JJ grinned. "You gonna hit me? Take your anger out on someone else because you can't handle the truth?"

Pope, standing next to Kie, shook his head. "She deserves better."

Sarah, arms crossed, looked at her brother with something like disgust. "You don't even look sorry."

Y/N let out a cold laugh. "Of course he doesn't. Because he's not." She turned her gaze back to Rafe. "You know what the sad part is? I actually believed you. I actually thought, maybe this time, it's different. But it never is, is it?"

Rafe opened his mouth, then closed it, unable to find the words.

Y/N took one last step forward, lowering her voice just enough that only he could hear. "I'll say what they won't, Rafe. I know everything they don't. And I see you for exactly what you are."

He swallowed, throat bobbing. For the first time all night, he looked truly unsettled.

Good.

Without another word, Y/N lifted her drink—still untouched—and, with the sharpest satisfaction, poured the entire thing over his head.

Gasps. Laughter. Cheers.

Rafe stood there, drenched, humiliated, and for the first time in his life—completely powerless.

Y/N turned away, not sparing him another glance. She walked past the crowd, past the Pogues, past the remnants of something that had never been real.

She didn't cry. She didn't look back.

And as she disappeared into the night, Rafe Cameron realised—too late—that he had just lost the only person who had ever truly seen him.

(divider by @kodaswrld !!)

betty’s notes ౨ৎ ⋆｡˚

i hope this was somewhat what you asked for anon !! if not, feel free to drop another request with specifics and i’d be so happy to write that :)

editing the few drafts i have so i can upload them asap !! just in case anybodies wondering why i’m uploading so much, it’s because i have pre-written some of these requests form weeks ago and have only just gotten around to editing them :)

[b1eedthefreak]

⋆ 𐙚 ̊. Strangers

⌇daryl dixon x reader

summary⌇years after daryl disappeared into the woods to search for rick, the fair at the kingdom reunites the communities—and you never expected it to reunite you with him. not after all that time. not after the way he left.

warnings⌇none! (the title sounds like angst but it’s not i promise)

word count⌇2.4k

a/n⌇ive been working on this all day and i lowkey don’t really like it but hopefully yall do :p

No one ever found Rick’s body.

No blood to bury. No final breath to hold on to. Just that hollow, brutal silence where his voice used to be.

In the weeks that followed, everyone coped in their own way.

Carol buried herself in the Kingdom. Michonne broke in half trying to stay whole for Judith. Maggie left altogether. And Daryl—Daryl slipped into the woods like a shadow, like a man trying to disappear inside his own grief.

You stayed in Alexandria.

You didn’t know where else to go. And more than that, you didn’t want to leave.

Because deep down, you thought—maybe—if he ever came back…

He’d come back here.

To you.

—

You and Daryl had never been official.

Not once. Not out loud.

No kisses. No sex. No whispered I love yous. No hands tangled in sheets.

But everyone knew.

They saw it in the way he moved toward you in a crowd.

In the way your name always softened on his tongue.

In the way he learned how to braid just because you mentioned missing how your mom used to do it. In the way his hand found the small of your back like it belonged there.

You weren’t together. But you were something.

And in a world like this, that meant more than most titles ever could.

So when you saw him and Michonne returning through the gates, your breath caught in your chest.

It had been days. Weeks maybe.

You jogged over, boots scuffing the dirt, trying not to smile too hard. His hair was longer. Skin darker from the sun. There was something heavier about him now.

But he was here.

Michonne greeted you with a quiet nod.

“Hey,” you said gently. “Any luck?”

She exhaled and gave a small shake of her head. “Not yet.”

Her hand drifted instinctively to her stomach, and only then did you notice the gentle curve beneath her layers.

Your eyes widened. “Wait—”

She nodded with a tired smile. “I should get to the infirmary. My checkup’s overdue.”

“That’s amazing Michonne!” you whispered, warmth blooming in your chest.

She gave your arm a squeeze. “I’ll leave you two to catch up.”

And then she was gone.

And it was just you and Daryl, standing in the evening sun.

You shifted your weight, suddenly aware of every beat of your heart.

“Hey stranger,” you teased. “Remember this place?”

He huffed, already walking ahead. You fell into step beside him.

You walked past the gardens, past the old windmill, through the soft, golden stretch of Alexandria that somehow hadn’t lost all its light yet.

Kids were playing in the distance. Judith was laughing. Something in the air felt gentle—like the world had paused just long enough to let you feel like yourselves again.

You turned your head, caught him looking.

“What’s with that look?” he asked, mouth twitching.

“What look?”

“That smile. Like you know somethin’ I don’t.”

You nudged him lightly with your shoulder. “It’s just been a while, that’s all. Since you’ve been here for more than five seconds.”

“Ain’t true.”

“Mm. Let’s see…” you pretended to count on your fingers. “One, you’re always out there. Two, I think you’ve forgotten what a shower is. Three, you’ve become an actual forest cryptid. Be honest—do you sleep in a nest made of moss and guilt?”

His groan was low and grumbly. “‘s not funny.”

You burst out laughing. “It is a little funny.”

“Oh i’m not funny anymore? Has the woods drained your sense of humor?” you added, wiping tears from your eyes.

He tried to scowl, but it melted too fast. You swore you saw a smile ghost across his lips.

For the first time in days—maybe longer—you felt like you again. Like you and Daryl was still a thing that could exist in the daylight.

—

Night came quickly.

You were on your porch when you spotted movement near the gate.

You squinted through the dark.

It was him.

Bag on his back. Crossbow slung over one shoulder. His bike waiting just outside.

He looked like he was leaving.

You stood up slowly, heart knocking against your ribs. You walked toward him without thinking.

“Hey,” he said when you reached him.

Your eyes fell to his gear. “All packed up?”

You tried to joke. “Got a big camping trip I should know about?”

Daryl shifted. “You could say that.”

Something in your stomach twisted.

“Where are you going?”

He looked past you, eyes dark. “M’goin’ out again. Gonna look for Rick. His body was never found. Michonne… she deserves that closure. I gotta try.”

He swallowed.

You nodded slowly. It made sense. Of course it did.

But the ache in your chest didn’t care about sense.

“You were leaving without saying goodbye?”

His eyes flicked back to yours, wide now. Sad.

“‘s not like that,” he murmured. “I just…”

Your voice cracked into a soft laugh before he could finish.

“I’m just messing with you, Daryl!”

You smiled through the pain, nudged him gently with your knuckles.

But he didn’t smile back.

He just stared.

“Daryl,” you said softer, “I know how important this is to you.”

You stepped closer, resting your hand on his shoulder.

His breath caught.

“No matter how long you’re gone… Alexandria will always be your home. I’ll be here. We all will. You’re doing this because you care. Because you’re good. I admire that.”

You gave him a small smile. “Just… don’t be a stranger.”

His eyes searched yours.

Then, slowly, he lifted his hand and pressed it over yours.

Warm. Calloused. Familiar.

“Yeah. ‘Course.”

He paused.

“I—uh…”

His voice faltered. Like he wanted to say something else. Needed to.

But the words never came.

He looked down. Then back up.

“See you ‘round,” he said instead.

You nodded, trying not to let your throat close.

“See you, Dixon.”

And then you watched him walk away.

Again.

This time with no promise he’d come back.

—

Six years passed.

Not quickly. Not easily. Just… slowly. Like healing bones. Like water dripping through stone.

Daryl didn’t come back to Alexandria.

Not anymore.

The afternoon light spilled across Alexandria like warm syrup, casting long shadows over the dirt paths and wooden fences, softening the sharp edges of the world for just a moment. You sat perched on a sun bleached picnic table just outside the walls, your eyes fixed on the horizon as if it might shift, as if something—or someone—might come walking out of the trees.

Aaron was pacing nearby, boots crunching gravel, arms crossed loosely as he scanned the outer perimeter. His steps were casual, but his glances in your direction gave him away. He was waiting—for you to speak, for you to feel ready, for something to shift in the stillness between you.

“Heard the Kingdom’s throwing a fair,” he said finally, voice light, like he was just tossing the words into the wind.

You turned your head slightly, brows lifting. “A fair?”

He nodded. “Ezekiel’s idea. Wants to bring everyone back together again. Says it’s time.”

You mulled over the thought. A fair. Something good, something loud and warm and… alive. It almost felt too good to be real.

“That’s… actually kind of amazing,” you murmured, brushing your fingers over the wood grain beneath you. “Wonder who’ll be there.”

Aaron turned, and when you met his eyes, he was already smirking.

“What, you hoping to run into someone?”

The sharpest side eye of your life was instantly deployed. “No.”

He raised both hands, grinning. “Hey—I’m just asking!”

You inhaled slowly, eyes drifting to the tree line again. You didn’t say his name. You didn’t have to.

Because even now—six years later—the ache still sat in your chest like a scar that hadn’t faded. Daryl Dixon hadn’t come back. Not really. He’d left with a bag slung over one shoulder, a stubborn look in his eyes, and the promise to find Rick… and that was it.

He didn’t come back to visit. Not even Judith heard from him much, and she asked often. Tugging at your sleeve with those wide, knowing eyes.

“Where’s Uncle Daryl? When’s he coming back?”

You always smiled. Always told her a story.

And always cried when no one was looking.

Aaron finally sat beside you on the table, voice lowering.

“You should go,” he said. “To the fair.”

You didn’t answer right away. But a small part of your heart stirred. Hope, tiny and dangerous.

“He could be there,” he added.

God, you truly did hope so.

—

The day of the fair arrived wrapped in sunlight and banners waving from rooftops, laughter echoing through the halls of the Kingdom, the scent of baked bread and something sweet in the air.

You came alone.

But the moment you stepped through the gate, warmth found you. Ezekiel’s broad smile, Jerry’s crushing hug, Carol’s steady hand cupping your cheek. Henry beaming like he’d just won a prize. You hugged them all tightly, like you could fold the years between you and make them disappear.

It felt… good. For the first time in a long time, it felt like the world had color again.

Eventually, you found a quiet spot at a wooden table near the outer edge of the square. You sat and let the voices blur around you, scanning faces instinctively. Not that you expected to see him. Not really.

But you looked.

And you remembered—

It had been a day not unlike this one. A trade run to the Kingdom. You and Daryl sitting on a crate, watching Carol and Ezekiel argue over storage methods for pomegranates.

“They’d be cute together,” you whispered to him, nudging his arm.

“Don’t start,” he muttered, not even glancing up.

“Just say it. Say they’d be like fairytale adorable.”

“Ain’t sayin’ shit,” he grumbled, shoving a bag of carrots at you.

You had laughed so hard your ribs hurt. You remembered how he’d glanced at you, just for a second, like he was watching something he didn’t quite understand.

You blinked away the memory.

And then a shadow fell over your table.

“This seat taken?”

Your head jerked up, breath catching halfway through your lungs.

Daryl.

He stood there like some ghost pulled from memory, weathered and older, hair longer, eyes the same. He looked exactly like you’d imagined and nothing like you’d imagined all at once.

You stood before you could stop yourself. His arms were around you in seconds.

And just like that, six years collapsed between your bodies like dust.

—

You found yourselves in the old theater, dust dancing in the light that filtered through cracked windows. Dog curled up near the stage, tail thumping once when he saw you.

“So you named him…Dog?” you said, sitting beside him, amusement in your voice.

“What’s wrong with that?” he muttered.

You broke into laughter that echoed against the rafters, and he didn’t stop you. Just watched, his eyes softer than you remembered.

You talked for what felt like hours. About Judith. About Michonne. About the woods. You told him about Alexandria, how the crops were growing again, how RJ was walking now, how everyone still missed him. How you missed him.

Eventually, the conversation quieted. You sat in that soft, familiar silence, one you hadn’t felt in years.

And then he turned, like he was going to say something—

But stopped.

“Hey,” he said, eyes narrowing. “You okay?”

You wiped your face without realizing you’d started crying.

“I just… I missed you,” you laughed, watery and shaking. “It’s been so long. I’m just happy you’re here.”

His voice was quiet. “Don’t be a stranger, remember?”

You blinked. “You still remember that?”

“’Course I did.”

But the moment was interrupted, Henry burst through the doors.

“Daryl! My mom needs you!”

And just like that, he was gone again.

“I’ll talk to you later,” he promised. “When the movie starts.”

You nodded.

—

Night had long fallen and the movie was playing in the theater now. The kids were wide eyed, faces glowing in the screenlight. You sat near the back, waiting for him.

He never came.

Your chest ached, but you didn’t let it show.

Until—

“Psst.”

You turned.

He was peeking through the side door again.

You rolled your eyes and followed him outside, where the night had settled, dark and velvet-soft.

“Sorry,” he muttered. “Eugene got me talkin’. Wanted my help with somethin’.”

You shook your head. “It’s okay.”

You sat beside him in the grass, the stars glittering above. You could smell the smoke of a nearby torch, the warmth of him beside you.

“I missed this,” you said. “You.”

He turned to look at you. You didn’t meet his gaze, eyes fixed on the sky.

“Remember them runs we’d do? Long ones. Campin’ out. You’d always be lookin’ up, starin’ at the sky.”

You nodded. “Still do.”

“When I was out there,” he said, voice gravel-soft, “I’d look up too. Think about you.”

You turned to face him. “You thought of me?”

“’Course I did. Always did.”

You let out a half laugh, half sob and shoved him lightly. “You’re such a liar.”

He rolled his eyes, but his smile lingered.

The silence that followed was thick. Electric. Heavy with something neither of you had touched in years.

“Kept thinkin’ about that day,” he said. “When I left.”

You exhaled. “Yeah. Big moment.”

“I wanted to say somethin’. But I didn’t know how. I ain’t good with words. Or feelin’s. Or any of that shit.”

You looked at him fully now, his features half-lit in the dark.

“But I love you.”

You didn’t breathe.

“Wanted to say it. That day. Before I left. Couldn’t. I—I didn’t wanna leave you. But I had to. I just… I couldn’t stop thinkin’ about you.”

You smiled. Eyes full of tears. “Daryl,” you whispered. “I’ve always loved you.”

Your voice cracked.

“When you left, it felt like losing my best friend. But worse. Like… like I didn’t know how to breathe without you. I realized it after you were gone. I loved you. I still love you. I’ve never loved anyone the way I love you.”

He reached for your hand in the dark.

“I know,” he said. “Me neither.”

And in the silence that followed, nothing else needed to be said.

You’d found each other again.

And this time, neither of you would be strangers.

a/n okay guys plz ignore how rushed the ending is i didn’t know how to wrap it up they lowkey should’ve kissed but it’s too late to write that it now just imagine it in your heads alright okay bye everyone like and subscribe for more

tag list! @xx-lostgirl-xx @darylsdelts @ye-ooo @t-folklore13 @madyb17 @dead-sirens @theskinniestjackson-denny @littlelovingideas @angelically-yours

[manganiti]

The Conflict Between the Yugi Twins From Their Point of View

In Amane's and Tsukasa's relationship there's the fact that they're twins so they grew up with each other, they shared different life experiences, they're each other's half and polar opposite and have a deeper connection because of it. However, there's a hierarchy between them. Amane is like the big brother to Tsukasa, and Tsukasa is the younger brother to Amane despite they're twins.

Amane's POV

Tsukasa sacrificed himself for Amane's health and after that, everything started to change between them and it deepened the conflict. After Tsukasa disappeared, Amane missed his brother very much and he probably felt guilty because Tsukasa disappeared shortly after he asked him if he loved him, but Amane never replied in a straightforward way. He felt guilty because he couldn't see the signs of Tsukasa going from his life, he couldn't understand his behaviour, his reasoning or the way he felt before he disappeared.

I think Amane always kept thinking about the way his little brother was before he merged with the pit god because when Tsukasa returned, he was different. Amane also admits that he doesn't understand his little brother since the day he disappeared and why his brother disappeared. He didn't understand Tsukasa's actions and feelings at all. He never knew that Tsukasa thought "Amane hates me so it will be okay if I disappear".

When Tsukasa returned, something changed about him and it was evident to Amane and his mother. Tsukasa wasn't possessed, but he wasn't entirely human anymore. I think the guilt Amane felt deepened when he saw that Tsukasa was different after he returned. So, maybe if they had a good relationship, there were some problems between them while they were still alive because Tsukasa acted differently. Amane loves his brother more than anyone, but probably he didn't truly accept the Tsukasa that returned because Tsukasa changed and deep down he feels guilty about it.

When they were 8, it's shown that Amane wanted to spend time with Tsukasa, so I think that despite what he thought deep down, he appreciated his younger brother more, he was the one protecting and guiding him. I think Amane became more attached to Tsukasa after he returned.

Now, when they were 12 years old, the person who Amane spent most of his time with, was Tsukasa. Even Tsukasa said to him "You'd prefer if I stayed here, right Amane?" So he didn't have friends at school. Tsukasa was the one who had friends and was popular. Despite this, Amane still displayed some signs of envy towards Tsukasa "you have a lot of friends, are you really my little brother?". Amane perceived that they were so different in this aspect. Tsukasa perceived this envy and retorted "of course Amane, you don't have any friends because you're tone deaf". This is a comical moment, but I think it shows that Amane felt envy towards Tsukasa and it hasn't changed since they were children.

Now, in a metaphorical sense, this scene of Tsukasa asking "You'd prefer I stayed here, right?" has a hidden meaning when tied with "or would you rather me gone? You have to decide". I think part of the memories Amane can’t recall are related to Tsukasa revealing something about merging with the pit god in exchange for his health or it could be that Amane discovered something about Tsukasa and the pit god based on Tsukasa's behaviour and that's why Tsukasa implicitly asks Amane "if he wants him to stay or to disappear" in the 1968 School Festival. "Will you accept me as I am now, or do you think I'm a fake?"

Maybe in Amane's mind at that time after that revelation, Tsukasa's changes started to make sense and he didn't make a decision yet. That also would explain what he said about "believing that the lunar rock was real" months later. On the surface, he decided to accept Tsukasa and preferred to think that he was still his brother as shown with that lunar rock metaphor that landed when he was 4 because he loves his brother very much even if he changed. So his final answer when he was alive was that he preferred to believe Tsukasa was still Tsukasa despite merging with the pit god.

However, in The Trial of the Clock Keepers, it’s shown that Amane didn't rule out the possibility that the Tsukasa who returned was an entity masquerading as him. It's clear that he still had his doubts, that deep down, he really didn't think that the Tsukasa that returned, was really his brother.

They had a good relationship, but I think a huge part of the conflict between them, is that despite Amane loves his little brother, he never truly accepted Tsukasa the way he was since he returned to his family because of his guilt, his mindset, because Tsukasa's behaviour was influenced by the pit god and because he didn't really understand his little brother's feelings or his reasoning. On the other hand, to some extent, Amane was influenced by what their mother thought about Tsukasa.

Amane thinks that once a dead person becomes a supernatural, "they stop being themselves, they get jumbled up" and he even also applies it to himself. In the following scene, it's clear what Yako stated, that no matter how berserk someone can become, how warped they're, or if they changed shape, they're still themselves. This scene and some other parts of the manga contradict what Amane thinks deep down.

When Amane became a supernatural (Hanako), he never accepted that berserk or warped part of himself. Maybe in the past, Kou's and Teru's grandmother sealed him because he went "berserk" and unleashed a part of himself he never knew existed. When he became a supernatural, it triggered something deep inside of him, that berserk, very dark part he has. But he doesn't accept it because he's scared of that dark side of himself. He doesn't accept the changes that comes with becoming a supernatural.

I also think that's why he prefers to call himself "Hanako". Because to him, Amane doesn't exist anymore. Amane ceased to exist after he became a supernatural. But note that Tsukasa still calls him Amane. Accepting that supernatural and dark side of Amane.

Now, he tried to find a solution to protect Tsukasa in his own way. But he also couldn't let him go. It was a selfish solution. So he preferred to make Tsukasa his yorishiro rather than letting him go or rest in peace. He couldn't bear the thought of his little brother separating from him again since they were kids and he showed his love in that way. Even if he didn't talk to Tsukasa for decades after he became his yorishiro, he couldn't let him go. So that's why maybe the solution, his way of protecting him in his perspective, had to include not separating from each other.

A small room for speculations and theories in this paragraph: Now there's this art. Amane is holding a portrait with a black ribbon which in Japan is for someone who has died and there's a picture of the moon. It could be a metaphor of Tsukasa. It also could mean several things, like Amane's possessive and twisted love because of the facial expression he's making here. But what if Amane mourns the "death" of his brother "the human side of him" after he found out about the truth? What if he wanted to protect Tsukasa's human side from the entity?

Tsukasa's POV

Tsukasa wanted to make his brother happy and always tried to cheer him up and take care of him in his own way while he was sick. Most of the time, he was the one initiating physical contact with him and Amane was shyer and less expressive than him. The balloon scene also shows how can Tsukasa act more maturely than Amane at times.

Before Tsukasa merged with the pit god, there were signs of Amane acting like the "older brother" when he did some things for Tsukasa, like reading for him because he wasn't that good at reading, However, Tsukasa was always the one trying to cheer him up when he was sick. Amane thanked Tsukasa for his efforts to make him feel better and Tsukasa asked Amane "if there was something he wanted, to let him know".

Then Amane had an emotional outburst and shoved Tsukasa, frustrated because he had better health. Despite this, Tsukasa replied very gently to Amane. Amane was feeling really bad and if he had expressed what he was feeling in a calmer way, maybe it wouldn't have lead to the conflicts between them. Tsukasa saw Amane's reaction as Amane hating him. Despite this, Tsukasa showed signs of emotional maturity and he was the one who took responsability for Amane's health.

I think that these panels show how Tsukasa and Amane despite having a hierarchy between each other where Amane's has the role of the "older brother" and Tsukasa has the role of the "younger brother", they have different emotional maturity and even though Tsukasa is more innocent and childish than Amane, he was the one who offered support to his older brother in difficult times in his own way.

Then he was in the red house and he met Kou who told him something like "He says that he hates you but it's just in the moment" and Tsukasa was ready to return to his family and let go of his own belief that Amane hates him after this. But in the end, Tsukasa was defined by the thought "Amane hates me" after this incident. Tsukasa saw the envy that Amane had towards him since this happened and also after he returned. But he also perceived that Amane wanted to spend time with him. He saw Amane protecting, guiding him and showing his affection for him in some way, maybe while they were still alive for many years, Tsukasa didn't think that Amane really hated him. However, when he turned into a yorishiro, it's shown that he still thinks that Amane hates him. We don't have enough information about Tsukasa when he was alive, but Tsukasa was extroverted while Amane was very introverted when they were in middle school.

Maybe Tsukasa tried to understand Amane, but Amane was someone who was very closed up with his feelings. He probably saw his affection in his actions "You'd prefer if I stayed here, right, Amane?", but probably something seemed off to him "Or would you rather me gone?". Maybe part of it was the envy that Amane felt toward him, maybe it was the fact that Amane perceived him differently because he merged with the pit god, maybe it was the revelation that he merged with the pit god in exchange for his health, or maybe it was all of these things. I think that Tsukasa which didn't feel envy but a genuine respect towards his brother, saw something off coming from his brother but he couldn't grasp into it. Maybe that's why he let Amane decide if he wanted him to stay or to go. Tsukasa wanted to go from's Amane's life (Maybe because he felt that Amane didn't fully accept him and also because he didn't want to bring the tragic destiny to his big brother's life). He also always wanted Amane to keep on living, that was his wish since he was 4 after all and he let Amane make the final decision.

Then Amane killed him, and then killed himself. I think that from Tsukasa's perspective, the conflict is related to the reason he thinks Amane commited the murder-suicide. In any case, it's good to point out that when Amane killed himself he disregarded the sacrifice Tsukasa made for him. Tsukasa always felt hated by Amane, and the fact of the murder-suicide, made Tsukasa believe it even more.

There are also some other things that were happening at the same time and we don't have information about them, the main point of the story, which is why was Amane's final answer to kill his brother and himself. But whatever the reason it may be, I think that from Tsukasa's perspective, Amane was selfish in the way that Amane's final decision was that he wouldn't keep on living the life he sacrificed for and he didn't respect Tsukasa's other side of the solution, that is, to go, but rather, he took away Tsukasa's life. So, Amane threw away the life Tsukasa gave him and also, he didn't let Tsukasa disappear, but rather, he killed him.

I think the scene of Tsukasa appearing after the HanaNene kiss is a clue about what happened and the conflict between them. Here Amane didn't take into account what Nene wanted. So maybe it's a parallel of how Amane didn't respect Tsukasa's wishes when they were alive.

In the analysis I made about Amane there may be hints that Amane killed his brother because he wanted to protect him from something, but he didn't take into account Tsukasa's feelings or opinions on the matter. He completely disregarded them, and made a selfish decision thinking maybe, about how to share some kind of burden his little brother was dealing with probably as the consequence of being merged with the pit god (Being a supernatural, or the sacrifices, maybe?) and also he couldn't let Tsukasa go.

In Amane’s heart, however, there was a deeper issue: he couldn't truly accept the Tsukasa who returned, the one forever changed by the merger, as the real Tsukasa. Despite this, Amane chose to believe he was real even if he wasn't completely convinced about it and that protecting him in this extreme way, would be the only way to share his burden and preserve Tsukasa's humanity. In the end, the murder-suicide was Amane’s way of "taking the easy way out" from Tsukasa's perspective, a selfish decision made under the guise of love and protection, but at the end, it denied Tsukasa’s agency and his chance to decide his own fate.

Manifestation of the Conflict Between Them

In the Trial of The Clock Keepers there's a clearer manifestation of their conflict. Tsukasa was willing to let Nene destroy him after she had destroyed The Clock Keeper's yorishiro and Amane had to tell Tsukasa the way he was feeling about him disappearing because despite Amane's selfishness, Tsukasa wants to grant his wish. He doesn't care if he dissappears, but Amane doesn't want Tsukasa to disappear.

Amane also has a problem with the way Tsukasa shows his love for him, willing to sacrifice his life like it's nothing. Amane has a dilemma of getting what he wishes for and sacrificing his brother in the process because he loves him. But Tsukasa accepted that "Amane hates him" (it didn't help one bit that Amane told Tsukasa "I hate you so much") and to him, the fact that Amane doesn't want him to disappear doesn't mean that Amane loves him.

"The final panel of one chapter and the first panel of the next both display the text, "His feelings didn't reach the younger brother he cares for" while Amane says that "He hates him so much".

The trial scene is reminiscent of when Nene and Hanako confronted each other after she saved him from Teru. Tsukasa parallels Hanako and Hanako parallels Nene. Hanako is focusing on grating Nene's wish "But your wish was this" and then Nene had to tell him to stop, that he doesn't have to grant her wish anymore. It's the same when Amane stopped Tsukasa and he told Amane "But you wanted this". Then Nene told Hanako that he "acted on his own", that he was going to extreme lengths to grant her wish and then she told him that "she hated him" but she cried and hugged him. Then Hanako understood and hugged her back.

However, in Hanako and Tsukasa's case, things were more complicated. When Amane told Tsukasa "I hate you so much", it didn't reach Tsukasa at all. Instead, he replied "Yeah? I know?" he took it literally. Hanako had a problem with Tsukasa sacrificing himself, going to the extremes to grant his wish. He didn't take Amane's feelings into consideration, because he thinks that Amane hates him. Amane was never blunt about how he truly felt about his brother. So, that's why Amane's feelings didn't reach his brother. Because he also doesn't understand how his own brother feels. The twins don't understand how the other is feeling. They never expressed the problem they had with each other.

When Amane let his feelings show, that he didn't want Tsukasa to disappear, Tsukasa responded by sharing what he believed Amane truly felt about him, he decided to open up to him and tell him what he really thought deep down: "you despise me, yet you hate the idea of never seeing me again". But how did Amane reply? "You're an impostor!!!". He completely invalidated the way Tsukasa really felt because he didn't know and he didn't understand that his little brother was defined by this idea since they were kids even before merging with the pit god. And Amane expressed what he really thought deep down "You're something masquerading as my little brother!!!". So I think what they expressed during the trial, was a more evident manifestation of their conflict and the root of the misunderstandings between them.

Maybe with the murder-suicide Amane was trying to protect Tsukasa and share a burden, but to Tsukasa, it happened because Amane didn't truly accept him as the real Tsukasa, so this confirmed to him that Amane hated him. We know that Amane's final answer was that he was going to accept Tsukasa after merging with the pit god but Tsukasa didn't see Amane's feelings and reasoning behind the murder-suicide and he thought that Amane would never truly accept him. Instead, Tsukasa saw what Amane harbored deep down, that Amane doubted whether the Tsukasa who returned was really Tsukasa at all. Perhaps it was this doubt, this uncertainty in Amane’s heart, that Tsukasa perceived and interpreted as confirmation that Amane hated him.

Conclusion

The conflict between them is related to Amane's mindset, the way they showed their love to each other and the changes Tsukasa had after merging with the pit god. Amane committed the murder-suicide, sacrificing both his brother and his future, a decision he made in an attempt to solve a problem. It was likely an act of love from Amane's perspective but the full details are still unclear. However, by doing this, he disregarded Tsukasa's wishes and feelings.

Also, throughout the story, Amane's failure to communicate his thoughts and emotions is a recurring issue. He shows his love through actions, he wants to protect his loved ones, but in doing so, he ignores what his loved ones want and that makes him selfish from Tsukasa's point of view.

Tsukasa always thought that Amane hated him, and it was deepened by the fact that he thought Amane wouldn't accept the changes he had because of not being fully human anymore. When Amane decided to kill Tsukasa and himself, Tsukasa viewed it as a selfish act, not an act of love, because Amane always keeps his feelings locked up in his heart and he never expresses himself clearly. Amane shows everything through his actions and he took away Tsukasa's possibility of making a decision. He preferred to make decisions on his own without considering what Tsukasa wanted (The same thing Nene mentioned about him).

[choerrysjubiles]

Step by Step

Pairing: ningning x fem!reader

Warning: fluff! light angst but then more fluff :D <3 also mentions of food/eating

Wc: 1.3k

A/n: thank you to those who requested this <3 i really wasn’t into the first part when posting or even drafting it but you all actually liked it??? also loosely inspired by ladies first from oster project, gotta keep up the sapphic songs for this month :]

Song: Ladies First - OSTER Project

Ning: can we talk? Ning: i see you reading the texts Ning: youre not slick You: what is it ning? Ning: we broke up You: oh Ning: can we talk?

You stared at the texts as you waited for Ningning to arrive. You decided to meet at a cafe, one of the few 24 hour ones, to talk. You were nervous, worried about what she wanted to say, worried about what you were going to say. You were looking around, sipping on your drink, when Ningning walked in.

She walked towards you, sitting down.

“You can get a drink if you’d like. They’re pretty good.”

“In a minute, maybe.”

You nodded, you could hear the seriousness in her voice, a nervous feeling boiled in your stomach as you both sat in the silence. The tension was light, you were sure it was your nerves going off that made everything feel more intense. Especially when Ningning was never too serious of a person so feeling this serious air around her was jarring.

“You broke up?” You asked, sipping more of your drink.

Ningning nodded, “Yeah, a week ago, actually.”

“A week ago?” You felt your eyebrows raise.

“We weren’t getting anywhere being together, it wasn’t hard. Mutual disinterest.”

You understood, nodding as you nervously looked around.

“That’s what I wanted to talk about.” She said, “During that week I was thinking a lot, about us, about other relationships.”

You nodded, wanting to hear her as clearly as you could. You could see her fiddling with her hands and jacket, practically running over her lines so she wouldn’t mess anything up.

“I really missed you. I realized how bitchy I was, always using you and throwing you away. I was a bad person and I’m sorry.”

“You were a little bitchy.”

Ningning laughed, a soft airy one, “Yeah. I hope you can forgive me, though.”

“I can.” You assured her.

“Really?”

“As long as you’re serious this time.”

“Can we try?” She asked.

“Can we try what?”

“Us?”

Her voice was a little louder than a whisper, almost scared to talk about your history and possibility together. You liked Ningning, you really did, and it seems like Ningning likes you, too. She looked scared of rejection, like the longer you wait to answer the closer to dying she’ll be.

“I’d like that.”

“We can go slow.” She said quickly, “I, I’d like to go slow.”

You nodded, “We can take our time and actually start a relationship.”

Ningning smiled, “That’d be really nice.”

You both sat and talked at the cafe, Ningning ordered a drink and dessert for you two to split. You talked more in there than you were sure you’d talked before. Finally opening up to each other without getting someone off.

As you finished up, you asked if she wanted to come over.

Shaking her head, “Too many bad things happen when we spend a night over. I want this to be different.”

You laughed, “That’s fine.”

You walked Ningning to her car.

“Is kissing off the table for a first date?”

Ningning giggled at your question, “I wouldn’t call this a date, really.”

She leaned against her car, looking at you before you both leaned in and kissed. It was different now, feeling chaste and soft. When you’d usually kiss it was hungry and urgent. You liked this side of Ningning more.

“Drive safe.”

You walked backwards, waving goodbye to her before making your way home. You felt light, any knot in your body, from holding your words back or from nervousness tensing your stomach up, disappeared.

You laid in your bed, looking up at the ceiling with no sense of wonder or disappointment. No feeling of guilt like talking to Ningning was something bad or immoral.

This felt good.

You both spent some time away from each other, you really enjoyed the separation. With your last conversation you felt open to whatever Ningning was planning, actually excited to see what will happen between the two of you.

After a few days you received a text from her, asking what kind of date you’d like to go on.

You: it’s not that serious lol You: how about a cafe or shopping? Ning: :o sounds fun! Ning: friday at 2? You: sounds great!

As your date came around, you dressed less casual than you’d normally dress. Opting for something walkable but an upgrade from your usual going-out outfits.

You noticed how punctual Ningning was: arriving before your date was planned, going out of her way to assist you, driving towards your favorite mall, and going straight to the shops you wanted to see.

She helped pick out tops and bottoms for you. Showing you accessories that were your taste. You, of course, did the same for her, showing and finding the right size of clothing for her. While it was exhausting, it was so much fun. Ningning didn’t mind waiting for you in the dressing rooms to show an outfit or piece to tell you how well it looked.

As you both walked around with your bags, you felt her hand grab onto yours, pulling you here and there before ending at a small cafe. You were both tucked away, enjoying each other’s company as the sun slowly crept lower.

“Wait, stay there!” Ningning got her phone out.

She carefully took your picture, adjusting the lighting, having you change poses. You were laughing the whole time, seeing how her smile widened at each photo snapped.

You noticed Ningning grow shy as you took your phone out, taking candid photos of her before she moved to pose. Both giggling before you finished taking pictures, opting to drink and eat the desserts you bought.

Leaving the cafe, you both walked towards her car, putting all of your bags on one arm and entwining your fingers together. Your legs were tired and aching but you didn’t want to leave yet, you were really enjoying her company.

Ningning was so different before, putting up walls and worried about anything getting too close. But now you see how she’s relaxed and let you in.

“Ning?”

You looked ahead, seeing Minjeong.

You felt Ningning’s hand shake before detaching from yours.

“Minjeong!”

They asked what the other was doing, Ningning and you having a shopping spree while Minjeong was walking towards an appointment for something, you really weren’t paying attention.

“It was so nice seeing you.” Minjeong waved bye.

You both walked towards her car, more silent now. Setting your things into her trunk and sitting in the car, Ningning broke the silence,

“I’m sorry.”

Her voice was a little louder than a whisper.

“I’m really sorry.”

“It’s fine.” You looked at her.

“It’s not.” She sighed, “I really want this. I do. I-”

“You said you needed time, we can take our time with this.”

“You’re not mad?”

“I’m not mad at you, Ning. A little sad or disappointed but I’m not mad.”

“We can still-”

“We’re not gonna break up over you not holding my hand.” You laughed.

Ningning smiled, feeling her worry go away.

“I just need to get comfortable with this.”

You nodded, “Baby steps.”

Ningning smiled, “Exactly! Baby steps!”

She started her car, driving you home to drop you off.

“Did you wanna come in?”

“No, ma’am. We need to take our time, I don’t wanna mess anything up by moving too fast.”

You laughed, “Well this was an amazing first date, thank you Ningning.”

“Thank you, y/n, also for an amazing first date.”

You waved goodbye, watching her walk to her car and drive off before shutting your door.

[darlingsblackbook]

Distant Echeos 4

Gojo Satoru x Reader

Arranged Marriage AU

Summary : The time of an old pact, promising your hand to the heir of the Gojo clan, has come. It is now your wedding, how will the two of you continue from here?

Warnings : Angst, depressed reader :(, lonely reader :(, mentions of weightloss and not eating.

AN : Part four ♡

Previous parts : 1, 2, 3

Gojo Satoru

I didn’t come home often.

Not because I didn’t want to, but because it was easier that way. Easier to avoid the awkwardness, the tension that hung between us like a thick, invisible fog. Easier to stay away than confront what I’d been feeling since that damn wedding day.

But tonight was different. I wasn’t even sure why I decided to stop by this time. Maybe it was the guilt, gnawing at me like an itch I couldn’t scratch.

Maybe it was the exhaustion creeping in after a long week of missions and endless responsibilities. Or maybe, deep down, I just wanted to see her, to make sure she was okay.

I hadn’t been home in over a week, and though I knew Y/N wasn’t the type to complain, something about her silence had started to bother me.

I opened the door quietly, stepping inside the penthouse with its usual pristine cleanliness. The familiar scent of the place—something subtle, floral, that I always associated with her—lingered faintly in the air.

Everything looked exactly the same as I’d left it. Except… not quite. The furniture was in place, nothing out of order, but there was a thin layer of dust on the surfaces, as if no one had touched them in days.

The usual sense of care and attentiveness that she always brought to this place felt like it was missing.

The energy was off.

I frowned, walking further in, my senses on alert in a way they rarely were at home. Something wasn’t right.

The kitchen was spotless, of course, but the sink was empty, the counters bare. No dishes drying, no evidence of food having been made recently. A quick glance in the fridge confirmed it—half-empty containers of food that looked like they’d been untouched for days. Leftovers from meals that had gone uneaten.

The eerie quiet that filled the place started to press in on me, and an uneasy feeling twisted in my gut. It was too quiet. Too still.

Had she… left?

The thought hit me harder than I expected, sending a strange jolt of panic through my chest. I wasn’t sure why, but suddenly, the idea that she might have just packed her things and gone felt… wrong. Sure, I hadn’t been the most attentive husband, but she wasn’t the type to just disappear without a word. Was she?

I moved through the living room, glancing around for any signs—anything that would tell me she was still here. Her shoes were by the door, neatly placed like always. Her bag was on the small table near the entrance, untouched. It didn’t look like she’d left. But why was everything so quiet?

My feet carried me down the hall, toward the bedroom—the one she had claimed as hers. I hadn’t been inside since we first moved in, and I wasn’t even sure if she’d want me to go in now. But I needed to know. I needed to see if she was still here, if she was… okay.

The door was slightly ajar, a thin sliver of darkness spilling out into the hallway. I pushed it open quietly, stepping inside.

The room was dim, the curtains drawn tight against the windows, letting in only the faintest traces of moonlight. My eyes adjusted to the dark, and that’s when I saw her.

Y/n was curled up on the bed, wrapped in a thick bundle of blankets, barely moving. For a second, I thought she might be asleep, but there was something about the way she lay there—too still, too quiet—that made my chest tighten.

I stepped closer, my gaze falling on her face. The dim light made it hard to see, but as I got nearer, I noticed something that made me pause. Her cheeks looked a little hollower than I remembered, her skin paler. And then, the worst part—the part that made my stomach twist with guilt—I realized she had lost weight. Not just a little, but enough that it was noticeable, even in the dim light.

She hadn’t been eating.

The realization hit me like a punch to the gut, and for a moment, I just stood there, staring at her small, fragile form wrapped up in those blankets like she was trying to disappear.

What the hell had I been doing?

I knew I’d been distant. I knew I hadn’t been there for her. But I hadn’t realized just how bad things had gotten. How much she had been suffering because of me.

The silence between us had been easier for me to deal with. I told myself that keeping my distance was for her sake—that it was better this way. After all, it wasn’t fair that she had been forced into this marriage. She hadn’t asked for it any more than I had. She deserved better than to be stuck with someone like me, someone who couldn’t give her what she needed. What she deserved.

But looking at her now—seeing her so small, so worn down—I realized I had been wrong. Completely, utterly wrong. My absence hadn’t made things easier for her. It had only made her feel more alone.

I swallowed hard, my throat tight as I crouched down beside the bed, watching her quietly. She hadn’t moved, hadn’t stirred, but I could see the faint rise and fall of her chest, slow and steady.

I wasn’t sure how long I sat there, just staring at her, but my mind was racing with all the things I should have done, all the things I’d failed to do. I’d been so caught up in my own frustration, my own anger at this situation, that I hadn’t stopped to think about how much worse it had to be for her.

I was Gojo Satoru—the strongest sorcerer in the world. I didn’t have to answer to anyone, didn’t have to rely on anyone. I could have walked away from this marriage and still been fine. But Y/n? She had been forced into this life with no choice, no control. And I had just… left her to deal with it on her own.

I thought keeping my distance would protect her, that it would make things easier for her if I wasn’t around to remind her of the life she didn’t choose. But all I’d done was make her feel like she didn’t matter. Like I didn’t care.

But I did care. More than I wanted to admit, even to myself.

The truth was, I hadn’t been avoiding her because I didn’t want to be here. I’d been avoiding her because I didn’t know how to deal with the fact that I cared. I cared too much. I hated seeing her trapped in this situation, stuck in a marriage with someone like me. I hated that she had been forced into this life, and I hated that I was part of the reason she was suffering.

But now, seeing her like this—so fragile, so alone—I realized that my distance hadn’t protected her at all. It had only made things worse.

I let out a slow breath, my chest tight as I watched her, my mind racing with all the things I should say, should do. Apologize? Promise to do better?

But what good were words now, after all this time?

I stood up slowly, my gaze still fixed on her as I tried to decide what to do. I could leave, give her space like I always did. But something in me knew that wasn’t the answer. Not anymore.

Instead, I gently pulled the blankets up a little higher around her shoulders, making sure she was warm, and then I turned to leave. Not because I was abandoning her again, but because I needed to figure out how to fix this. How to fix us.

Because, for the first time, I realized that I didn’t just want to make things better for her out of obligation. I wanted to make things better because… I cared. More than I had ever allowed myself to admit.

And I had been too blind to see it until now.

♡

Taglist : @kalopsia-flaneur @lov3vivian @junslay

All Rights Reserved © 2024 DarlingsBlackBook

[lieutenantbatshit]

CHAPTER 02 - once you go in, there's no turning back (hwang in ho x reader)

>> MASTERLIST

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----

The familiar scent of your apartment brought you back to your senses. The reality of being back to Seoul for good kicks you in day by day. Jun-ho placed your suitcase to the floor and looked around. Your studio apartment had a natural sunlight, as the glass door illuminated the light from the outside. Though the apartment still felt empty as you still lacked furnitures, but the memories it held was more than enough to say that you were indeed back home.

"Jun-ho, thank you so much for bringing my stuff back here," you patted his shoulder and smiled.

He smiled back. "No worries, noona. I'm so glad you're back. I wish we could talk more, but I got an errand to catch on."

You nodded, taking off your hand from his shoulder. "I see. Well, good luck and do good, alright?" Jun-ho nodded and grabbed his backpack. As he made his way to the door, you turned around and called out to him again. This time, you noticed how his body froze to your words, "If you ever see In-ho, let him know that I'm back, alright?"

His body stood still, much to your confusion. What was up with him? You understand how it might've been hard how In-ho had been missing for years, but your gut tells you that there was more to the story. As much as you wanted to ask, you knew In-ho preferred to always move and decide on his own. There's so much more in there, you knew it. But you were in no position to pry, at least for now.

Jun-ho looked back at you and only gave you a bow, then left. You turned your attention to the apartment, noting the stuff that you had to buy. A dining table, chairs, sofa, and a bed. Your wooden cabinet was still here, though it had built up dust already. You cleaned a bit inside before placing your clothes and other stuff there.

The sun was still out but it was setting already. You figured with little time you have left, you may as well shop for furnitures. You changed into another set of clothes, this time more casual and comfortable. You wore a black oversized shirt and grey sweatpants, slipping on some white sneakers. Once you felt ready, you grabbed your sling bag and went out, locking the door behind you.

As you walked down the road, you can't help but think of In-ho and how Jun-ho seemed to act strange whenever he was mentioned. You wondered why - did they fall out? Did something happen? Was In-ho gone for good? If yes, why would he leave his brother then? You tried to piece things together, but nothing made sense. It was out of character for In-ho to disappear without a trace, even if his wife passed.

It's impossible that he's gone for good, you thought. If his wife has passed, he would've made an effort to at least visit her in the cemetery. Though you didn't know where his wife was laid to rest, but in that case, maybe In-ho would've visited her at times. Guilt started to creep up to you, regretting every single second that you left here in the first place. As much as you knew it was for the best, you couldn't help but think that maybe you could've been there for In-ho when he was struggling. You could've helped him.

----

You swiped your credit card to the POS, confirming your payment for all the furnitures you bought. It would be deliver later, not later than 7pm at least. You needed a bed to sleep in for the night, and your apartment was more than empty except for the wooden cabinet you left years ago. You were surprised how it was still sturdy as ever. Kind of a blessing in disguise, actually.

You bowed to the cashier and proceeded to exit the store. You sighed as you felt the cold breeze hug you in. You looked for your vape inside your sling bag, inhaled it, and puffed a smoke. You didn't realize how tense your shoulders were as you exhaled. You thought the jetlag was getting on to you, adding up to the fact all the things you knew about the brothers.

You walked towards the subway, waiting for your train to arrive. This time, you didn't try hailing a cab as you missed riding the train. You wanted to savor the feeling of being in Seoul, finally back after long years.

You sat on one of the benches, minding your own business as you stared into space. You scrolled through your phone as you waited for the train, getting updated about your friends' life updates. You noticed an advertisement from a vlogger, MG Coin. It was the first time you stumbled upon this vlogger and read an article about them. Turns out he opened a new coin, Dalmatian, which he advertised to have everyone invest down to their last penny, guaranteeing instant investment. From the looks of it, if you weren't dumb enough, it was a scam for you. No one can get rich from truly investing, what more of getting a return of investment that fast.

"Dumb fucks," you muttered to yourself, shaking your head in disbelief. You continued to scroll more until there was no news that was worth to read. You sighed and kept your phone inside your bag.

The sound of a tile being slammed shot you up, looking at the direction of the sound. There, you see a man in a fine suit, playing what seemed like ddakji. You adjusted your eyesight to see what was happening, and yes, it really was ddakji.

You chuckled, wondering what entered his mind to play such a kid's game in a random subway. He was playing with someone who seemed to be in... distressed? You looked at the man, seeing a hand imprint on his face. You furrowed your eyebrows, confused why he seemed so invested in the game.

You watched them as they played, earning a shock from you when you see the man with a suit slap the guy's face. Then, he started to speak. "Again, I'll give you 100,000 won if you beat me. If I win, you can pay with your body."

"So, he paid by slapping," you shook your head in disbelief, chuckling as you continued to watch them. When the guy finally won, you can see how happy he was but looked up to the man in a suit, seemingly wanting to slap him. As he bolted his hand to slap, the man in a suit grabbed the guy's hand, blocking the slap. It seemed like he gave him something, which the guy glanced at his hand as if he was reading something.

You averted your gaze when you see the man in a suit turn around, facing you. You tried to not meet his gaze, but to your surprise, a briefcase was right next to your seat. You were probably so invested in watching the game that you didn't notice the briefcase. Though it was a crazy idea, you wanted to try and play the game. Would you win the prize? Or would you try to spice things up a bit?

You faced the man in a suit, meeting your gaze. You gave him a smile and a nod, and surprisingly, he also did. He proceeded to place the ddakji papers but he stopped as you spoke, "May I?"

The man smirked, but you can see the confusion forming in his face. You had a feeling he was trying to keep up with a facade which boils your curiosity more. "You want to play ddakji?"

You nodded. "I heard that you can win 100,000 won if you win, right?" He nodded in agreement. You continued, "What if I give you 100,000 won instead if you win, and if you lose...?" You looked up to think, and see the man chuckling. He seemed to be enjoying this.

"If I lose, then you can slap me," the man said as he smirked, taking the papers away from the briefcase. This was it, it seemed that both of you reached to an agreement. You stood up, fixing your clothes as he hands you the red paper.

The blue paper sits on the ground, waiting for you to flip it. You took a deep breath as you motioned your hand up then aimed at the blue paper, flipping it perfectly. It was the man's turn, seeing as he fixed and unbuttoned his blazer before swinging his hand to flip the paper on the ground, only to fail.

You smirked when you see him realize that he lost. He straightened himself up and moved his face near you, a free aim for you to slap. You examined his features first, realizing how fine he looked. He looked like he might in his early 40s, with a strand of hair down his forehead. He seemed to brace to the impact as you motioned your hand for a slap, only to lightly tap his face, barely even a slap.

He looked at you confusingly to which you only chuckled. "Can't slap a pretty face like yours," you said.

He only looked at you coldly, then furrowed his eyebrows as if to examine you. You had a feeling that no one dared to do that to him before, and maybe no one ever gave him 100,000 won if he wins the game. His jaw clenched, but not the angry kind. He seemed to think and squinted his eyes, then proceeded to nod in defeat, chuckling to himself.

"I just wanted to try it anyway, see if I was still good at it," you fixed yourself, straightening your posture. He did the same, now placing the ddakji papers back in the suitcase.

You noticed his hand on your vision, giving you a brown card, like a calling card, with three shapes on it - triangle, square, and circle. You shot him a confused look but this time, he was smirking at you. "If you want to see if you're good at ddakji, then you may as well join more games."

You grabbed the card from him as he closed his briefcase, giving you a nod before turning away, seeing his back as he walked away up to the platform, leaving the subway. Your gaze turned to the card you were holding, its texture seemed... premium. You turned the card on the other side and saw a number, as if ready for you to call.

A rumbling noise of wheels echoed through the subway, indicating that the train has arrived. You tucked the card on your pocket as you waited for the doors to open, entering it and sat near the entrance. You picked the card again from your pocket, intently staring at it. There was something more in this card that you were curious about. What did he mean about having more games? Will there be a prize at the end?

There's no harm in doing so, you think?

----

"Lee Myung-gi ran a Youtube Channel named, 'MG Coin' promoted a new coin called, 'Dalmatian' that turned out to be a scam, losing over 15.2 billion won after promoting it to their subscribers," the salesman reported, a phone pressed on his ear.

In-ho continued working on his papers, a glass of whiskey sitting near his left desk lamp. His phone was placed near it, putting the call on loudspeaker. He went over the potential player's file, seeing more of the details of the scam. He shook his head in disbelief, wondering how did these people get themselves up to situations like this. "Trash. Pure trash."

"He fled to the Philippines to hide from those he scammed," the voice on the other line stated. "I also noticed someone calling his phone. Someone named Kim Jun-hee."

"What about this Jun-hee?"

"She's pregnant, sir," the salesman said. In-ho dropped the paper he was holding for a moment. A pause came in before the salesman continued again, "Not in debt. Just needed funds for her pregnancy."

In-ho sat back on his chair, placing his hand on his chin as if to think. Though he couldn't help but feel his heart drop for a moment, remembering his wife. He shook his head before his emotions take over, proceeding to speak again. "You played with her?"

"Yes," the salesman replied. "I didn't slap her, knowing how fragile she was." In-ho nodded, a sigh of relief escaping from him. He took a sip on his whiskey, but was caught off guard when the salesman started to speak again. "But someone else wanted to play voluntarily."

"That's a first," In-ho muttered. He wondered why someone wanted to play ddakji voluntarily. Then he scoffed, thinking how they probably heard about the prize. "Let them enter the games."

"Sir, with all due respect, are you sure?" The salesman asked, the shock evident in his voice. "She offered to pay 100,000 won if she loses the game."

In-ho nodded as his thoughts start to take him over, trying to decide if they would let this someone enter the games. In entering the games, one had to be in debt. By debt, as in bad debts. A debt that slowly kills you, feeling as though you were alive only to be taunted by your shitty financial decisions. In-ho proceeded to ask, "Do you know anything about this woman?"

"I'm afraid not, sir. My apologies," the salesman replied. "But she seemed to be carefree. I spotted her along a furniture store nearby the station, buying furnitures, like a lot of them. She beat me to playing ddakji, and said she just wanted to see if she was still good at it."

In-ho became more confused, trying to weigh if he was going to let this someone in. If he lets you in, then the games would be more interesting. That is, if you call the number. Maybe there was no harm in letting someone not in debt to play. Or maybe he can offer you something more than playing in a pool of humans drowned in their debts.

"I gave her a card in case she's interested," the salesman reported. "But you should know that someone's got a tail on me. Seong Gi-hun is after us."

In-ho nodded, rolling his eyes with the thought of Gi-hun. In-ho believed that Gi-hun wouldn't be able to take down the whole organization. If ever, he would let Gi-hun be, but it would all just be for show, just to make things interesting.

Make things interesting.

As if a light was shone on In-ho's face, his face brightened up with an idea. He could make Gi-hun come back to the games, and letting someone like you in the games to see the truth and evilness of this place. Will you regret ever being so curious? He smirked, finishing his glass of whiskey as he felt the booze heat his throat. "Let the furniture girl in, and let Gi-hun work on his delusions. This season's going to be far more interesting."

In-ho ended the call, holding his hands together. He stared into space, sinking away from his thoughts. It's time to level up the games, to let someone who isn't entirely in debt to enter the games. Additionally, it's time to let a previous winner back.

If Gi-hun's back, then so is he.

----

A/N: I had so much fun writing this chapter! What did you think about the twist of ddakji? I wanted to at least express how attractive the salesman is, and how the reader couldn't slap his pretty face, catching him off guard. Now, we get a glimpse of In-ho before starting the games. It's also my first time to write a perspective of a villain, I hope I did some justice to it. Feel free to leave out your thoughts here, and I'll gladly interact with each and everyone of you. 🫶

Don't forget to leave a comment in this post to be tagged on the next chapter! ✨

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TAGS: @machipyun @love-leez

[mire1li]

Reader as Alastor's Mother part 3

So I took a little while oops Part 1!, Part 2!

𓋼 You brush his hair every morning. He pretends to find it annoying but he secretly loves it.

Whenever you'd brush his hair, you'd sometimes mention how short it was and that you couldn't do any hairstyles with it, which, on one hand, was good for his pride, but on the other hand, made you sad which also made him slightly sad. So he made the very rational decision to grow his hair out for you so that you could style it one day!

"Alastor, is your hair longer than before?"

"Hm? Is it?" he would never admit he did it for you! 𓋼 At one point, you were in the lobby with everyone else and you started wondering about Alastor's ears since he never actually mentioned anything, of course, you remembered Charlie's constant pleading to pet him, to which he always refused with his typical "Ha! No.", which made you more curious, if perhaps you could get away with it as his mother.

So, only naturally, you placed your hand atop his head and pet him, his ears lightly twitching. Charlie squealed. Of course she did.

"Oh my gosh! Can I do that too?!" she asked

"Haha! Absolutely not."

She wasn't very happy. She ended up pouting the entire day, Vaggie having to comfort her. To Charlie, it was like someone telling her not to pet a cute cat! Absolutely heartbreaking 𓋼 On that specific day, you also asked if he had a tail, and considering he had ears, it would make sense for there to be a tail too. Of course, silly Alastor was too embarrassed to answer in front of everyone, so he avoided the question!

"You're very positive today, Mother, did something good happen?"

"Nothing in particular, so about your tail-!"

"That's for me to know and you to… maybe, find out, Mother!"

You asked him about it again when you two weren't around the others, so he decided to show you! it was a nice revelation. 𓋼 You noticed that the shadow Alastor has following you around all the time, sometimes disappears, so you used that opportunity to go meet Lucifer as he invited you for tea countless times, and who are you to decline such a kind invitation?

When Alastor realised he couldn't find you anywhere in the hotel, he panicked and searched every inch of it multiple times, until Vaggie had finally had enough and asked him what happened.

"What are you doing, Alastor?"

"Searching for my Mother! She's gone missing, you see!" of course, he had a menacing look on his face.

"She mentioned she was going out for a while"

"Oh? And did she say… where?"

"Nope, well anyway, good luck!"

Yeah, Vaggie just left him. So he waited for you patiently at the hotel entrance. When you finally returned, he clung to you like his life depended on it, asking you many questions. 𓋼 I feel like whenever the Overlords had important, confidential, meetings, Alastor would immediately return to the hotel and tell you all about them, whether it be out of spite or fun. You definitely enjoyed knowing all the things going on in hell. 𓋼 You and Niffty put makeup on him when he was asleep and pinned his hair back (Alastor was pretending to sleep, just letting you two do your thing). Angel started laughing and giving him silly nicknames when he saw his hair, which inevitably caused him to shake his head very fast, removing the pin from his hair. 𓋼 Your first birthday with everyone. Of course, Alastor threw you a party. It was meant to be a surprise but considering he’s always with you, you found out because he was more secretive than before (you managed to guilt-trip him into telling you what he was hiding) 𓋼 For Christmas (if you celebrate it), you decorate Alastor with Christmas lights! He says he hates it but he definitely doesn’t, although it certainly made him a little bit scarier when he did that spooky thing with his eyes!

"Mother. Please do explain again why you decided to put christmas lights on me."

"You're more colourful this way!" you turned the lights on, so that now they were switching between multiple colours

Angel and Niffty ended up hanging a few baubles on his antlers too, before he noticed. 𓋼 Charlie had asked about your time alive so you began telling her, and everyone else who was listening, about some silly stories! When Alastor came into the lobby and heard you telling an embarrassing story about him, his ears lightly twitched and flattened against his head. He was just a little bit embarrassed.

Of course, he tried to leave again, unnoticed, however, the all-too bubbly charlie saw him and invited him to join.

"Alastor! [Name] was just telling us stories, come join us!"

"No"

"Alastor, darling, Charlie is being very kind! You need to be around these souls more! Come join."

Of course, he can't say no to you, so he ended up sitting by your side as you continued to tell the story about him, you lightly pet him and hugged him from time to time. Although his ears still stayed flat against his head. 𓋼 You wanted to make a flower crown, but since no flowers actually existed in hell, you had to make do with other things (paper). Yes, you made paper flowers and then turned them into a makeshift flower crown, which you then placed on top of Alastor's head.

"Mother?"

"Darling, I made you a paper flower crown!" 𓋼 Alternatively, you may've decided to sneak out again to find Lucifer.

"Luci, can you sneak us into Heaven?"

"Heaven?! Why?"

"I need flowers"

"Why would you need flowers?"

"To make Alastor a flower crown!"

Yeah, he wasn't too excited about that idea but he still agreed, although it did take a bit of… bribery…

"I'll… give you a kiss if you agree!"

"Let's go!" he opened the portal immediately and took you with him.

In the end, you got all the flowers you needed (after being chased out by Lute and Adam), so you were both… somewhere in hell, for sure.

"So… about what you said, before I got us into Heaven…"

"Oh, right!" You never specified where you'd kiss him so you simply kissed his cheek, he was a little disappointed but it's alright, you got Alastor a lovely flower crown! 𓋼 I feel like he would've been very afraid of spiders when he was alive, and then you were left with the task to exterminate any that entered your home (whether or not you were also afraid) 𓋼 You were quite a fan of new technology (though not completely obsessed), it made life far easier for you, though Alastor always 'confiscated' everything when he was around as he wasn't too keen on it.

"Mother, I don't see what you like about this device so much."

"It's simple to use and makes things quite a bit simpler than back when we were alive."

"I think it's pointless."

"Yes, you've always been a fan of radio… I see that obsession has stuck, even after death"

"It is not an obsession, Mother. I prefer 'fascination'!"

[ploompkin]

Some platonic father/son head canons for Elliot and Harley because I’m so normal about them

Harley and Elliot in the YGP:

(Realistically the members of the YGP were probably like 10+ or something but I’m ignoring that in favour of the cuteness that is a 5 y/o Harl)

— I’ve already talked about this with @/deaddreamweaver, but Harley point blank REFUSES to take nap time with the other kids. He grew up in an abusive household so is naturally distrustful of others, kids and adults alike. THE ONLY conditions in which Harley takes his nap is if Elliot holds him on his lap, or carries him around. Yep, even if Elliot has meetings! Luckily the investors find it cute. Harley has no idea, but his napping habits actually result in additional unplanned funding for Playtime Co.

— Harley likes to info dump to Elliot about his interests, because he’s the only one who’ll listen. At first Harley keeps stopping and starting, trailing off and warily eyeing Elliot, but the more interested Elliot appears, and the more he encourages him, the more comfortable Harley gets with sharing. For his birthday, Elliot gets him a book on neuroscience (something Harley has shown interest in) which is what puts him onto the path of becoming a neurosurgeon.

— Panic attacks aren’t an uncommon occurrence for little Harley. He usually masks them as angry outbursts, so it’s not always apparent when he’s having one. Elliot eventually figures out what’s really going on though, and soon after he becomes the only person who can talk Harley down from an attack. Some methods that have proven effective are getting Harley to list all the muscles in his body… and then the ones he uses to breathe. Also, leaning against Elliot’s chest and listening to him breathe, helping the little guy to remember to regulate his own breaths.

— Harley doesn’t like to hang out with the other kids. He doesn’t really ‘get’ them, and nor do they ‘get’ him. Instead, whenever they have break times and Elliot’s available, he likes to play chess with him. Harley usually wins. When Elliot is busy however… Harley will spend his time reading the books Elliot got for him, or drawing up some random design for a robot or something to show him later.

Adult Harley and Elliot:

(In my AU where Elliot invites Harley back to the factory. Also— less fluff and more angst).

—Harley still sees Elliot as a traitor. There’s no overstating how much his dismissal from the YGP hurt him, especially since that meant going back to his abusive household. (I think that Elliot overlooked or missed the signs of abuse altogether because 1) Harley didn’t like talking about his home life to begin with and 2) the man had just lost his daughter, so was grieving as well as developing an obsession over resurrecting her). Because of this old wound, Harley is very short tempered with Elliot, frequently having angry outbursts towards him. For the most part, Elliot quietly endures them since, with hindsight, he’s realised that he might not have made the right decision by expelling Harley and feels no small amount of guilt for it.

— Despite this resentment though… Elliot is still the closest thing to a positive father figure Harley has ever had/has. As such, Harley often finds himself subconsciously seeking Elliot out. Walking past his office, standing closer to him than what is strictly necessary… he becomes very irritated and embarrassed when he realises what he’s doing. Elliot’s presence still calms him, and his approval still makes Harley light up. Sentiment… such a folly, right guys?

— Elliot is still the only person who can talk Harley down from a panic attack, though now he’s grown he rarely has them, and is uncannily good at disappearing as soon as one begins to set in. Elliot is also uncannily good… at sensing when an attack is about to happen, and finding Harley to comfort him. Harley hates it. …He also loves Elliot for it, although he wishes he didn’t.

— Elliot will often check in with Harley. How he’s doing, is his work load manageable, did he see that adorable cat outside the factory today? Sometimes if he has time, he even brings the younger man coffee, or lunch. All this fussing irritates Harley. It makes him feel special, which he used to enjoy… but nowadays it just makes him feel on edge.

— Because of his guilt as well as his deep adoration for the boy, Elliot is more lenient with Harley than he should be. Which, ironically, would be his second mistake :)

Lemme know if you want more of these idk

[ghoularaki]

the lonely district

↠  summary: In the years after the slime monster incident and Midoriya's disappearance, he had come back to haunt both you and Bakugou. He no longer was the boy you once knew, but a villain ready to take what was his. Revenge was best served cold, afterall.

↠  word count: 7, 523

↠ pairing: bakugou katsuki x reader x midoriya izuku

↠ genre/warnings: smut, angst, prohero au, DARK CONTENT, villain deku, yandere, shock collars, implied stalking, kidnapping. NSFW (NONCON, sub! reader, (reluctant) switch! katsuki, dom! izuku, fuck or die, loss of virginity, creampie, spanking, overstimulation, slight orgasm denial, blowjob, no aftercare)

↠ a/n: this is an old fic i have been trying to finish since 2019 so im sorry if the writing feels inconsistent. i just really wanted to finally finish it since it was half finished. also excuse the very outdated villain deku trope rip

It’s been a long day and honestly you just wanted to go home. For some reason, your supervisor thought it was a good idea to pair you with Dynamight or rather Bakugou Katsuki—your childhood friend. If you could even call him that. For the longest time, you both had not gotten along, but since you had the mutual friend of Midoriya Izuku, you had to interact. That all changed when Bakugou got his quirk and he turned into a cruel bully. The dynamic and interaction formula was always the same: Bakugou would torture Midoriya in any way he could, Midoriya would just let it happen and you would defend him, turning it into a full blown brawl between you and Bakugou. It stayed like this for a while until that day Bakugou was held hostage by that slime monster and Midoriya went missing.

After that you had clung onto Bakugou in a desperate need to make sense of both of them getting hurt on the same day and the loss of your best friend. Surprisingly, Bakugou let you. But not without string of degrading names following. Despite his harsh words, he never once pushed you away anytime you silently sought comfort. Even though he didn’t act like it, he too was affected by Midoriya’s disappearance. Maybe he felt guilty, maybe he just missed his punching bag, or maybe he finally matured.

You would never know since he was so emotionally constipated. It was a bitch and a half just to get him to admit that you were one of the most important people in his life. Even now as you are both pro-heroes in your early twenties, it’s difficult for him to call you his best friend. Sure, he would be concerned if anything happened to you—that worry built with your childhood friend missing—he would rather die than confess to that.

Thing is, Midoriya didn’t stay “missing” for so long. No, he wasn’t found nor was his body. No, he never returned to his poor mother after years of being gone with open arms. No, there was never a “welcome back” sign, but his face plastered on every wanted poster within Japan. The bastard had joined the League of Villain with a big ol’ grin on his freckled face. That cursed day when you met with those emerald eyes again had haunted you forever. Tears streamed down your face, watching him be reborn into a whole new person. He didn’t have an ounce of guilt in his bones, he only gave a maniac smile, mocking you. 

Didn’t you miss me, N/n-chan? You look a little… sad, He drawled out with a smug look, glee coursing through his veins as you sob as if you had found him dead instead of him breathing, finally alive. 

It was when he had escaped that Bakugou for once let you clutch onto him, holding in his own sorrow as you openly sob into his shirt. And he did it again when the League of Villains was supposedly defeated but Midoriya or rather Deku still ran rampant. 

That’s where you two are now, there was another sighting of Deku in the area and you were assigned to bring him to face judgement. You knew what would become of him if you caught him. Still clinging onto the memory of an innocent child, you almost hoped that you would never find him. 

Bakugou had other plans.

Since day one he had wanted to find that bastard (his words, not yours) and give him absolute hell for becoming a villain. 

“It’s probably just another false alarm, just like the other seven,” You sassed him as you both walk towards an alleyway. 

“Doesn’t fucking matter, we still have check just in case this time it’s not,” Bakugou growls stopping away.

You rolled your eyes and made a face at him from behind his back.

As if he had a sixth sense, he barked, “I know you’re being a brat. I would stop if I were you or else you want your ass blow into the fucking stratosphere.”

Once you both got to the alley way only to be met with a dumpster, you pivoted and raised your brow at Bakugou. He rolled his eyes at you and went towards the dumpster. He opened it to see if there was any hints or evidence Deku even here. Still standing near the entrance of the alley, you the hair on your neck rose. A primal instinct that you were being watched set alarm bells ringing in your head. As subtle as you could, your eyes bounced around the enclosed area in hopes to find the danger before it finds you. 

A bad feeling sunk in your stomach like a rock does in water. Hesitantly you said, “Hey Dynamight, I think we should leave.”

“And why the fuck should we, Umbra,” He spat out your hero name. 

“Because,” you strained, still observing your surroundings, “I have a bad feeling about this. I think we should leave and get some back up.”

He slammed down the lid and stalks up to you, venom in his voice, “Are you running away from a fight.”

“No—” You started, but he cut your off.

“Oh really,” He mocked, “Because to me, it seems that you are.”

“Can you not be an asshole for a couple seconds and listen to me?” Your voice pitched, not understanding why he’s being so difficult. 

“Listen to you? Now why would I listen to you when it seems to me that you are avoiding any place that could have him in it?” You were about to start defending yourself when he cuts you off again. “It’s almost like you don’t want to find him.”

Your eyes widen at him, you couldn’t even feel offending knowing it’s the truth. Though, you rather not fuel Bakugou’s already large ego and denied him. “I’m just trying to make sure none of us get hurt!”

“I don’t need your fucking concern, I can beat any asshole including him easily,” He boasted.

“Oh get the fuck over yourself,” you barked, scowling at him. “Stop acting like you’re the fucking best, asshole.”

“I’m sorry what was that, Number Seven Hero?” Bakugou stepped closer until his face were mere centimeters away from yours. You just glare up at him, not caring that the height difference made you seem less intimidating. 

“This isn’t the time for a dick measuring contest, something doesn’t fucking feel right here and I just want to make sure neither us get seriously injured.” You jabbed your finger in his chest to emphasized your point.

“I don’t need your fucking help!” He roared and grabbed on your wrist to throw it away from him. 

You ran your fingers through your hair and then pull at it in frustration, “Why can’t you just let me help you—help us for once! You don’t always have to be the savior,” You let out a growl before finishing, “Fleeing isn’t being a coward, it’s being smart enough to analyze the situation and your own weaknesses!”

“So you’re call me fucking stupid now, you shitty brat,” he bit.

“That’s all you got from that?!” You screeched before letting out a laugh that held no humor, “You’re fucking helpless.”

“Helpless? I’m the helpless one? You’re the one that wants to fucking run away just because you ‘have a bad feeling’.” He did air quotes around what you had said.

“Oh God, Lord fucking forbid, I’m just looking out for both of our asses since you want to play big macho man!”

As you both start a screaming match with each other, you failed to notice the emerald eyes stalking you like a cat does a mouse. 

“You’re so fucking clingy just like that damn Deku, hop off my dick,” He snarled and clicked his tongue at you as if you were a misbehaving child.

Rage built up within your chest at his ill words. Syllables that were only meant to maim almost leave your tongue when you heard a noise a little too close to comfort. Adrenaline coursed through your bones, knowing your suspicions were right. You grabbed onto Bakugou’s wrist and turned towards the dark corner of the alley to fade into the shadows in hopes to escape. You ignored how he starts to yell profanities at you. Before you could even take two steps, you were pulled back by your hair into a firm body. 

You let out a grunt at the sting from the strands being pulled from their follicles. 

“Not so fast,” The voice whispered in your ear. 

Growling, you elbowed the person in the stomach and jump away from them before they could grab you again. When you turned around, you jaw dropped in shock.

“Izu-chan?” You stuttered out. 

“In the flesh,” he taunted with arms raised to the side.

You couldn’t help but stare at him. He had matured so much since the last time you saw him. His hair was shorter but still as unruly, his jawline was chiseled along with his cheekbones, he still wore a dress shirt with a vest and tie, but for once it was tied properly. 

“Finally decided to fucking show up,” Bakugou seethed. 

Midoriya pouted as he lets his arms drop with a whomp sound against his outer thighs.

“Oh come on, Kacchan don’t be like that. I thought this could be like a family reunion,” He gives a grand smile before it dropped, venom in his tone, “Didn’t you miss me?” 

“Sure, miss you so much, you shit stain.”

Midoriya fiegned hurt and clutched his chest in dramatics, “Oh, how you wound me so, dear Kacchan.”

Bakugou straightened out his back and got in a offensive position, “Enough with the fluff, Deku. It’s time I send your ass to jail.”

Cheek twitching, Midoriya glanced at you still shellshocked. Bakugou came at him, arms positioned behind him to perpell him at the shorter male. Right as Bakugou raised his fist to blast Midoriya in the face, he grabbed you and placed you right in front of him. Bakugou skidded to a halt with widened eyes, not wanting to hurt you in the process. You locked eyes with him. Your knees wobbled from being manhandled so easily.

“Using a girl to shield you is low.”

Midoriya simply shrugged and brought a hand up to cradle your throat. His fingers tightened when he felt you gulp underneath his gloved hands.

“Scared, Love?” He slithered in your ear. He looked down at you, before peered up at Bakugou. At his enraged expression, he licked the shell of your ear. You whimpered and flinched away the best you could.

This was exactly why you didn’t want to meet Midoriya. Even before he disappeared, he was smart and cunning. He knew how to get under Bakugou’s skin, and render you useless. Tears bubbled up as you faced the fact the boy you once loved had died long ago. Pretending to still trembled, you subtly widened your stance. Bringing a hand to Midoriya’s, he took it as you sniveling.

“Shh, don’t cry.”

Looking at Bakugou, you hardened your expression. Quickly, you gripped Midoriya’s wrist and with all your might you stepped forward and used his weight against him to throw him over your shoulder. When his back hit the ground, he let out an irritated grunt.

Wasting no time, you grabbed the quirk cancelling handicuffs on your belt and raced towards him. As you went to straddle him, he kicked your feet from under you and you fell with him. Bakugou took your place and was on top of Midoriya in no time. With acute flexibility, Midoriya spun around and kicked Bakugou in the face.

“Gah! Fuck,” Bakugou growled while gripping his face.

Wind still knocked out of you, Midoriya focused on Bakugou.

“You were always stupidly resilient,” The villain seethed. “I’m done playing games.”

“Good, because so am I.”

Bakugou lunged at him, ready to blast him to kingdom come. Midoriya side stepped his attack. Huffing, he went at him again. The two of them stayed the dance for a while. Any attack Bakugou attempted to do, Midoriya merely avoided with such leisure. The asshole even had his hands behind his back.

Watching as you got up to join the fight as well, Midoriya sighed. “Stubborn, the both of you.”

With such grace, he grabbed Bakugou’s hair and slammed his knee into his face. Stunned, the hero stumbled back. Before he could process the hit, Midoriya kicked him in the head, rendering him useless. Your mouth gaped at Bakugou being so easily taken out. His lids flickered as he struggled to get up.

“R-run,” He commanded, before falling.

Scrambling away from the villain, you sucked in your breath as you go to phase into the shadows. Before you could, Midoriya gripped you again. This time, his hands wrapped the column of your throat and squeezed. Frantically, you slapped against his forearms.

Adding more pressure, he leaned over you as you form slacked to the ground.

“Sweet dreams.”

Bakugou was the first to come to his senses. He squinted his eyes to adjust to the light that hung above him. He groaned as he observed his surroundings, noticing that he was in a dingy basement. There wasn’t much besides a queen size bed near the corner along with a door that he had no idea where it led and an opening with stairs peeking around the corner from where he saw.

Clutching his head, he turned to see your still slumbering form not far from him. Panic built up in him as he scrambled over to you and sighed in relief when there is no sign of vital injures. He starts to shake you awake, trying to think of a plan to escape.

After a couple moments, you let out a hum and your eyelids fluttered open. Just like Bakugou your eyes squinted at the sudden light probing at your pupils. 

“Katsu,” You groaned, mind still fuzzy so the old nickname slipped out. Your throat killed.

Bakugou shakily exhaled, glancing towards the concealed stairwell, “Yeah, it’s me.” His hands are gentle as he helped you up into a sitting position. You lean against his chest, body to exhausted to even hold yourself up. Which was odd to you since you were sure that Bakugou got the brunt of each hit that Midoriya landed.

“Where are we?” You asked huskily despite knowing that he probably was just as clueless as you.

“Why the fuck would I know that, brat,” He bit, before sighing and apologizing. He’s just irritated that you both were captured.

“It’s fine, it was a stupid question, anyway,” You smile up at him. 

Bakugou looked down at you and then furrowed his brow when he sees the collar around your neck along with a prominient bruise. Now that he thought about it, he felt one around him, too. You seemed to also notice as you reached towards him and traced the collar, confusion written on your face.

You and him were clad in different clothes as well. Instead of his hero suit, he now adorned plain sweatpants and a black t-shirt. You were wearing the same, but shorts instead. What a fucking perv.

Before you two could question each other, the thud of door opened and closed, followed by rhythmic footsteps coming down the stairs. Your heads snapped to the sound and Bakugou took a defensive stance to see Midoriya strut into the basement with a valiant smirk. You scrambled to stand with Bakugou, but your legs give out for a second and he had to catch you. Once you were sure on your feet, you glared at the man in front of you. 

“Aw why such aggressive faces,” The villain pouted.

“You know damn well why, you fucking bastard,” Bakugou seethed, tiny explosions crackling in his palms. 

You glanced to the shadows creeping up the walls. Shifting your attention to the stand off that the two men were having, you only hoped Bakugou could distract Midoriya enough for you to slip passed him. Ignoring the way your heart pounds at the thought of joining the darkness once again, you raced towards the vantablack. Almost like predicting your movements, Midoriya grabbed your wrist and pulled you to him. His arm snaked around your waist. You struggled as best as you can, but his grip got so tight a squeak left your lungs.

“Aw, N/n-chan, you so adorable,” He nuzzles into your neck. He trailed his cold nose up the slope your neck, purposely digging into the bruise, up to your cheek so he could whisper in your ear, “Have you ever heard of cute aggression? It’s quite a funny concept. Humans when we see something cute, we just find the need to squeeze it until it cries or even die. Funny, right?” As he speaks his grip only got tighter and you stand straight as a pole as he licked the shell of your ear, again.

“Get the fuck away from her, you freak.” 

Bakugou took a step towards you, but Midoriya dropped his hold on your wrist, to fish something from his dress pants pocket. The hero observed the other man, not wanting to be too brash when your life is on the line. He won’t make the same mistake twice.

Midoriya started to fiddle with what looks like a remote between his gloved fingers. “I would be careful what you say, Kacchan, because the results may be… shocking,” He smirked to himself at his own little inside joke. 

“What was I saying, my angel?” Midoriya began, but you kneed him in the crouch and jumped away from him.

“Don’t fucking touch me!” You commanded, ready to fight your childhood friend—no, this villain.

Instead of instantly attacking, Midoriya stayed bent down, clutching his stomach as he giggled. A shiver crawled up your spine at his laugh that lost all warmth it once had. He was insane. He cackled for what seemed to be ages before he stands up straight and all humor gone from his face. 

“Interrupt me one more time, and I swear to god,” He snarled, his doe eyes dropped into menacing slits. “As I was saying,” Midoriya reached for you again, but you slapped it away.

“I said don’t touch me,” You spat at him.

“Fine be like that, fucking brat.” 

Searing hot pain was all you felt. You screamed at the top of your lungs as you collapsed onto the cement floor in front the villain. Bakugou could only watch in horror at your shrill howls. You desperately clawed at the collar around your throat as it felt as if liquid fire was shot into your veins. 

“What are you doing? Fucking stop it, you’re hurting her!” Bakugou practically begs as your body withered in agony. 

Midoriya only shrugged, “I believe that dwindling down the pain is the best way to train."

You gasped for breath, struggling to get even an ounce of oxygen. 

“She’s not a damn dog!” Bakugou felt so helpless as he watched you struggled to inhale and he growled when your face starts to turn vermillion. “She can’t fucking breathe, you bastard!”

Cold washed over your body. Falling onto your side, you sucked in as much air as you can try to ignore the urge to vomit. 

With such a disgusting poise, Midoriya beny down and sat you up. He forced you to lean against his chest just as you did with Bakugou. “Poor baby, you tried so hard to save you and Bakugou. You even attempted to use your quirk. Isn’t it scary? You still sleep with the lights on, don’t you?” He cradled you and his tone was just so condescending but you couldn’t do anything about it.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Bakugou questioned.

“Oh, he doesn’t know,” Midoriya teased, keeping his eyes on you. He felt twisted arousal at those tear stained cheek and how you lips shimmered with spit. “The poor, little baby is terrified of the dark. Absolutely terrified!”

"What?"

"Pretty juvenile, isn't it?” He mocked, then turned his attention to the hero a couple feet from him. “To be honest, she didn't plan ever using her quirk again after that incident when she first got her quirk. You remember it, right? She was missing for hours, poor thing was stuck in the shadows all alone. But, after seeing you captured by that slimy fuck and my 'disappearance' poor thing blamed herself for not being strong enough. That day on she promised to become stronger to find me and make sure her dear friends will never be harmed again. Isn't that just sweet. The perfect hero story."

Multiple emotions flashed on Bakugou’s face; confusion, worry, anger and guilt. "Why— why would you become a hero for such a stupid reason, huh?! I can protect myself!" His words were sharp as he glared you down, hating how dazed you look. Despite his declarement, guilt tugged at his heart. He couldn’t help but think if he was just a little stronger and didn’t fuel your need to be a hero, than either of you would be in this situation. 

Softly, the villain started to wipe away the drool that pooled in the corner of your mouth and the tears that had yet to dry from your face. You furrowed your brow and tried to focus on Bakugou and answer his question that sounded more like a plea. 

"I just wanted to be strong, too. You and Izu-chan always protected me so I wanted to return the favor." The words were slurred but it still stirred something in both of the men. 

"And just how sweet," Deku seethed, now gripping your cheeks so hard your lips became puckered. He pulldc your face close to his before he clicked his tongue and pushed your face away, letting your body dropped as he stood. 

“Fuck,” you hissed. Your reactions were slow so your head hit the concrete with an audible thud.

Bakugou attempted to go to you to check you were okay, but Midoriya held up the remote.

“Ah, ah, ah,” He tutted at the hero with a wagging finger, “If you haven’t noticed, I get to say what goes and I don’t think I said you could go near her.”

Bakugou only growled like a feral dog but doesn’t move in fear of seeing you in such misery again. “You’re a bastard I hope you know that.”

“And what does that make you, Kaccan,” Midoriya’s tone was cold, so cold that the temperature dropped. 

You stared down the remote, formulating a plan. If you could only grab the damn remote then he won’t hold so much power you both and you can move freely. Seeing that he was distracted by Bakugou, you pushed yourself up to stand. Not caring how your bones screamed to rest, you slinked up and reeled your fist up to punch him with all your might. A whoosh came from how fast your went to strike. Your breath caught in your throat as Midoriya seize your fist without even looking at you.

“You stupid, stupid girl,” He sung without any emotion. He snatched your jaw and shook your head, amusement in his eyes as you tried to kick and squirm. Without any effort, he threw you away and you fell to a heap onto the floor. “Stupid, stupid girl,” He repeated and then he pressed onto the remote. 

A loud grunt cracked and echoed into the basement. You watched in horror as Bakugou crampled to the cement, trying his damndest to get the collar off. A shiver ran down your back, knowing exactly how he must feel.

“He didn’t didn't do anything!" You screeched.

"Right now he didn't," Midoriya shrugged, watching how the mighty fall with a smile. 

Bakugou let out a shout he tried to hold back, not wanting to give Midoriya the satisfaction or to worry you. It was too late for that though as you crawled over to the villain. You clutched onto his pants, begging, “Please just let him go. Just make it stop please.” New tears started to form watching the most important person to you crumpled over in pain on his knees. 

A gagging noise rings in your ears as his face is now red like a rose. 

“Please!” You screeched, now hugging Midoriya’s legs and gazing up at him with watery eyes. Snot and tears ran down your visage as you repeated please over and over again. “I’ll do anything, just please let him go, he can’t breathe!” You babbled pleases as if it was the only words you know. 

Midoriya’s eyes lit up a maniac green seeing you gravel at his feet. God, you were so fucking pathetic. His cock twitched as you begged you were made to. 

"Anything?" He drawled out, not caring how Bakugou choked. It was only background noise to him.

"Yes, anything! Just please stop all of this, I'll do anything you say." There was clear desperation in your voice.

Midoriya let out a hum before answering and turning off the collar, "Call me Izu-chan again like you used when we were kids."

You tilt your head at the simple command. It was easy enough, you were about to reply then Bakugou gasps out, "Don’t do anything that sick bastard tells you to!"

Pure ire flashes on Midoriya’s face. He snarled as he looked at Bakugou’s quivering form trying to suck up oxygen and was about to press the button again until he hears your heavenly voice.

"I-Izu-chan, Izu-chan please don't!" You pulled yourself closer, so close that your breasts squished against his shins. You kept gaze up at Midoriya, trying to look innocent as possible to please him. Honestly, it was working because as you looked up at him with those teary eyes, he can’t help but notice how beautiful you look at his feet. Worshipping him as if he is a god. Midoriya reached down and cradled your cheek within his gloved palm. You closed your eyes and snuggled further into its warmth, trying to seem inconspicuous as you hear Bakugou start to stand. Pouting, you laid it on thick praying he kept his attention on you. "Don't hurt him! He-he's just being brash like usual. Please he doesn't know any better."

“You’re right,” Midoriya stared at you with adoration, but it fell when he locked gazes with the hero inches away from punching him in the face, “He doesn’t know any better.”

Bakugou’s eyes widened as he froze at how he was able to catch on so fast. He was about to send an explosion towards the villain when Midoriya kicks you further away from Bakugou and pressed the damn remote again. 

You could only whimper out a little, “Katsu,” that breaks his heart. He went toward you again but he felt that pain once again. He fell to the floor not too far from you. Body exhausted, he just collapsed to heap on the floor. The shocks were gone as fast as they came, but before he could even attempt to crawl to you, Midoriya straddles his back. He tries to buck him off but his arms were grabbed and harshly forced behind his back. 

“Get the fuck off of me!” Bakugou tried to say but the hand not holding his arms, pushed his head into the ground. He grunted when the side of his face hit the concrete, leaving him immobile. Midoriya adjusted himself so that he was now stranding the back of Bakugou’s thigh, spreading the hero’s leg. 

He giggledvwhile cruelly shoving his knee into Bakugou’s crotch, "Now if you are both done interrupting me, we can finally get this show on the road." 

A huff left Bakugou at the stimulation that grinded against his groin.

“What are doing you bastard!” Bakugou barked, slight desperation in his voice as his cock started to spring to life. Midoriya only ignored him as he pressed hard, reveling in the tiny groan that left Bakugou’s chest. “I said, what are you doing?” Bakugou squirmed more, but nothing happens.

Midoriya pressed his front into Bakugou’s back and whispered in his ear, “How does it feel to be the one pushed down. Not so fun is it?” 

“What is this? Some sort of fucking revenge fantasy, sicko?” Bakugou groaned, hating how his body was betraying him.

Humming, Midoriya kept his knee grinding into the hero. Bakugou tried to scramble away, not wanting you to see him so weak, but Midoriya got a lot stronger with age. An uncanny amount.

Against the small of his back, Bakugou felt how hard Midoriya was. The need to vomit built up in his throat. Shuffling himself, the villain put himself between his childhood friend’s hips. Through the thin material of his sweatpants, Midoriya’s length rubbed against the line of his ass.

Leaning down so his lips brushed against the hero’s ear, Midoriya’s breath stuttered. He had been waiting for this moment for so long. His tip leaked in the confides of his slacks, begging to sink into Bakugou or your heat. The way Bakugou struggled against him only added more stimulation.

Not wanting to get too ahead of himself, Midoriya opened to see you crawling to the shadows on the wall. Sighing into Bakugou’s ear, the man under him shuddered. Still grinding his cock into Bakugou’s withering hips, he pressed the remote to see go slack against the floor. Your whimper had Bakugou turn his focus to your writhing form.

“S-stop,” His words had a double meaning.

Giving one last harsh thrust that if there weren’t clothes between the two men, his cock would have surely breached the hero’s hole, Midoriya got up. He clicked off the eletricity and followed how drool foamed out your mouth.

“Get on the bed. Sit at the head and wait, if you don’t,” He waved the remote in front of Bakugou’s flustered face, “You know what will happen.” Midoriya pointed with his chin at your form.

As Midoriya pulled his weight and grip from Bakugou, he went to the bed as instructed. Heaven knew he wanted to knock the motherfucker out, but your life was on the line. Settling into the metal bars of the headboard, he watched Midoriya go to your pliant form.

Or so he thought.

When Midoriya bent down to grab you, you snapped your foot up and kicked him right in the nose.

“Shit!” He cradled his nose, tears flooding his sight.

Sprinting to Bakugou, you reached for him and prepared to barrel into the darkness. Falling onto the bed, Midoriya quickly recovered and pinned you underneath him. You screamed and clawed at the bedsheets. Kicking and squirmed, you did anything you could to get him off you.

Midoriya grabbed your head and smothered your face into the cushions.

“Don’t,” He bit. Not at you, but at Bakugou who got ready to fight. “I’ll fucking snap her neck and make you fuck her cooling corpse.”

Grinding his teeth, Bakugou could only watch as Midoriya maneuvered your thrashing form. Sitting at the edge of the bed, he placed your body across thighs so you were butt was perked up on his lap.

“Damn, I thought Bakugou would be the brat, not you.”

“Fuck you!” You screeched.

You were so sick of being antagonized by him. Adrenaline in your system had you acting out of character. Wrenching your arms behind your back, Midoriya ripped off your shorts and your panties. Terrified, you fought more, not liking where this was going. Before you could move more, a thundering slap burned in your bare bum. Screaming, you whipped your head to Midoriya.

Tears pierced your waterline. He- he just spanked you like you were a child.

His face stone-cold, he didn’t offer any comfort. Bringing his hand down again, your feet kicked pathetically at the sting. He hit the same place again. Sobbing, your head fell into the bed. The fight in you left as quick as it came.

Seeing you were more calm, Midoriya rubbed his large, calloused hand over your burning bum. “You done?”

Whimpering, you nodded your head.

Despite your form sagging, he doesn’t lift you up. If anything, his hand wandered until his fingers brushed against your slit. Gasping, your head sprung up to try and make eye contact with him. He ignored you to spread your legs and get more of a view of your cunt.

“S-stop it,” You begged.

Midoriya dipped into your hole to gather some of the wetness that unwillingly spilled from you.

“Why stop when your pussy is so wet for me?”

Swirling your clit, your legs twitched from the stimulation. Going back to your hole, he breached you with two fingers. You winced from the intrusion. Thrashing, you didn’t want someone to touching you there, especially for the first time.

Midoriya caught attention to your flinch, “Oh, are you a virgin?”

A shit-eating grin spread across his face when you sob, not stopping shoving his thick fingers further into you. Looking over at Bakugou, he isn’t ignorant to how the hero’s nostrils flared. “Aww poor Kacchan, you wanted to get to her first, didn’t you?”

“Die,” Bakugou snarled, but his eyes didn’t leave the fingers splitting you open.

Midoriya huffed a laugh, and leaned down to you, “I bet he would have made it real special. Too bad all he’s gonna get is my sloppy seconds.”

Ripping his fingers from you, you gasped at suddenly being empty. Licking your escense from his appendages, Midoriya forced you up. Roughtly, he ripped off your shirt so you were completely bare. Without care, he threw you down between Bakugou’s legs, a pillow below you. Getting behind you, he propped your hips up so you were face down and ass up.

Not giving two shits what Midoriya says, Bakugou gripped onto one of your hands as a small form of comfort. You clutched onto him, fear turning your tummy in tiny twists.

Midoriya unzipped his pants and brought them down to pull his cock from the tight cloth. Sighing in relief, Midoriya stoked himself with a few weak pumps. One his knees, he dragged himself closer to inspect both of your holes on display for him. With thumb, he ran it down from your ring of muscles over your hole and to your clit. Brushing it, he went back to your hole, he hooked his thumb inside and pried you apart.

A shuttering moan left at being exposed for his greedy eyes. Not caring you weren’t prepped enough, Midoriya brought his cockhead to your pussy.

“W-wait!” You begged, but he only bullied his way inside.

Only the tip was inside and you were being ripped apart. Bakugou gasped your hand tighter. More and more of your ex-childhood friend shoved himself inside. At halfway, he pulled out until it was just the head, and then slammed all the way to the hilt.

Screaming into the pillow, you cried as he tore his way into you. His balls slapped against your clit as he started a brutal pace. Your nipples chaffed against the rough texture of the bedding.

“Fuck, you’re tight,” Midoriya moaned.

He didn’t hold back his noises. Fucking into you, he groaned and whimpered, loving to finally be inside you. He had waited for years to feel how warm you were. When he was still a hormonal teen, he would spend hours yanking his cock to the thought of tearing you open. Who was he kidding? Even well into his adults years, he still fucked himself to you.

And him getting to you before Bakugou was the cherry on top.

A petty, insecure him wanted to shout, ‘I win!’ right at the man in front him. But staring at him, as he silently seethed at watching you get fucked by the man he hated, was much sweeter.

Crowding you, Midoriya leaned down to groan in your ear, “Look at you. Your sloppy cunt molding just for my cock. You were made for me.”

His head leaned down further to suck the length of your neck. Kissing the nape, he harshly bit into it and you screamed at the piercing ache. Tilting his hips, he hit the spongy part in you, a moan finally leaving you. He kept abusing it as his hand went down to your clit. Instinctively, you spread yourself further for him. His cock stretching you past your limits had your brain fog up in pleasure. Mouth gape, you whimpered into the pillow.

Working you over, Midoriya didn’t stop his pace or how he twiddled your clit. Too fast for your liking, a tightness tugged in your lower stomach.

“N-no.”

Midoriya caught on to how you scrambled away from the pleasure, “Oh, are you- fuck- are you gonna cum?”

In denial, you shook your head.

Laughing at you, Midoriya didn’t stop, just kept going as he was. Pinching your clit, your legs spasmed. You bit your lip to hold off the orgasm, but it was too late.

With a pound into your g-spot, you moaned as you came all over the villain’s dick. Groaning, Midoriya’s hips stuttered, but he was far from completing with you. Licking your neck, he bit into your flesh.

The pleasure quickly turned into pain as he didn’t stop. “Stop, it h-hurts!”

“Good.”

Ramping up his thrusts, you screeched into the pillow. Clutching onto it with your free hand, Bakugou stroked your hair to help you work through the agony. Tilting your head up, you looked up at the hero with bleary eyes. Drooling dripped down from your lips for a different reason.

From your fucked out expression, Bakugou almost came just from that. He knew it was wrong, but his cock has never been harder. You looked so beautiful ruined. If only it was him splitting you apart until you were crying.

Squeezing your eyes shut, you prepared for the next orgasm that threatened to rip through you. Midoriya’s thrust turned sloppy, he finally let up on your clit to focus on his own end. Gripping your hips, he forced them back to fuck you further on him.

You screeched and clenched around him when he bumped your cervix. At that, Midoriya stilled his hips. Cum shot out from him and deep in your cunt. He didn’t move until all of his cum spilled inside you. Your body hummed and twitched.

Sagging down, you were exhausted. Midoriya pulled out from you and you whimpered at being empty after being fucked open. Though, he didn’t leave you alone. His hand cupped your cunt, not letting any cum dribble out.

“Your turn,” Midoriya addressed Bakugou.

“What?” The hero asked stupidly.

“I did say you would get my sloppy seconds, didn’t I?” He tilted his head, mocking him. “Unless you don’t want to.”

Steeling his resolve, he agreed, “Fine.”

Like a puppet on strings, Midoriya pushed you onto Bakugou’s lap. Hand still cupped over you cunt, Bakugou tugged down his sweatpants and boxers. Sighing as his cock slapped against his clothed stomach, he grabbed your thigh to bring you closer.

With Midoriya’s help, you were positioned over his cock. Pressing against your back, you noticed he didn’t put his own away. Ignoring it, you locked gazes with Bakugou. He returned it.

Taking the reigns, Bakugou tugged you from Midoriya’s grip and he let him. Pulling his hand from your cunny, Bakugou replaced it with the blunt head of his cock. Cum spilled down to your thighs. Using it as lube and still stretched open, Bakugou slipped inside you with little resistance. He was a little bit bigger than Midoriya and thicker. Despite that, you didn’t wince as you sank down to the hilt.

Grasping you, Bakugou cradled your face. With little patience, he began thrusting inside you. Moaning, you didn’t stray away from his ruby eyes. Here, in this moment, you could pretend it’s just you two. Maybe the tension between you finally bubbled over and he took your virginity like you secretly wanted. And maybe, just maybe, Bakugou could take it like he longed for as much you did.

Matching his momentum, Bakugou brought his thumb over you parted lips. Dragging it across your bottom lip, he slipped his thumb inside. Moaning, you licked at the oddly sweet skin.

Midoriya cut into the moment, “Don’t you dare cum until I say so.”

Glancing at him, you see him sitting at the end of the bed, working himself back up slowly. His hand twisting over his length a lot slower than Bakugou’s thrusts.

Hooking his thumb on your bottom teeth, he brought your attention back to him. Eyes not straying from his, he let his hand slither down to hold your throat. The grip gentle. You sunk into his hold, it so much softer than you ever expected.

His other hand went to your neglected clit, circling it. Moaning for him. your thighs shook. Hands on his plush chest, you traveled down to grip his wrist. If he kept going, you would cum and you didn’t want to know what Midoriya would do.

Bakugou took at as encouragement and pressed further.

“I- I can’t!” You hiccupped.

Taking mercy on you, Midoriya said with a wavering voice, “Cum. Now.”

Not wasting a moment, Bakugou pushed you down onto the bed. Hand still on your throat, he hovered over you. In the tangle, his cock fell out, but he quickly fucked it back in you. Like a man starved, he slammed his dick in and out of you.

Groaning, you tilted your hips to encasing him inside you more. With his knees, he spread you further and went back to your bundle of nerves.

“You’re so pretty,” Bakugou leaned down, and bit right where Midoriya did before. He tried his best to cover all of that bastard with himself.

His sweet words had your vision swarm. Kicking your feet and curling your toes, his next bite did you in. Cumming with a loud moan right in his ear, Bakugou quickly followed. His cum mixed with Midoriya’s.

Flopping on top of you, he kissed where he bit you as an apology. Deep in you, his cock softened and fell out. Whimpering, you welcomed being empty once more. Your hips were battered and bruised.

“How cute,” Midoriya mocked.

From under Bakugou, you stared at the man who towered the both of you, still stroking his own cock. “I’m far from done with you two.”

Twisting his head to the villain, Bakugou sneered, “Fuck off. We did what you wanted.” He refused to move, covering your form with his to protect you.

The shorter male’s face dropped. “If both don’t get to work sucking my cock, I’ll shock you until you’re fucking stupid and nothing more than little fuck dolls.” Hand tight around the remote, you didn’t take his threat lightly.

Crawling out from under the hero, you went down on your knees on the cold concrete floors. The bones already ached. Glaring at Midoriya, Bakugou didn’t break eye contact as he got on his knees right next to you. It was comically how his form swallowed yours.

Sitting at the edge of the bed, Midoriya had you two between his knees. Raising his brow in impatience, you leaned over to lick his cockhead. Bakugou copied you to focus on his balls. Sucking one of them in his mouth, Midoriya bucked up forcing you to take more of his length.

“S-so good,” With both hands, he gripped you and Bakugou’s hair.

Pulling off his cock, you kissed furthered down until you met with Bakugou’s mouth. Departing from Midoriya’s sack, Bakugou licked up until your mouths connected. Over his dick, you both made out, tongues brushing against each other.

Your moan vibrated against Midoriya causing him to shutter.

“For a virgin, you are a natural.”

Clenching your eyes closed, you tuned out his voice and went down to his balls. Taking your place, he went to Midoriya’s cock and took it all in one go. Leaning over you, your lids went half mast, watching Bakugou swallow the villain causing him to give a girlish moan.

Moving to his other ball, you gave it attention, sucking it your mouth. Your tongue swirled around it. Bakugou moved up and down his cock with expertise, smirking when Midoriya whimpered again.

“F-fuck!” He groaned and pulled you both off him.

Ripping his hand from the one in Bakugou’s hair, he stroked his cock and aimed it at you. With two pumps, he came all over your face. You flinched back as it almost hit your right eye.

Releasing you, he leaned forward as shame washed over you. Cum still spilled from your cunt. Being the only one covered in cum and naked, you felt dirty. This time, tears did pour over as you refused to make eye contact with the man above you.

Sensing your shame and pissed at being degraded, Bakugou glared at Midoriya. Hatred seeped from his pores.

Midoriya merely smirked. Tapping your collar, you were forced to look at him.

“It’s going to be so much fun completely breaking you two.”

[sandsorghum]

Lingering

wc: 3.7k

tags: Nanami Kento x Reader | Canon Compliant | Angst |

a/n: Vignettes of a life with Nanami Kento as a lover.

i.

The details of your lover's work have always been a mystery to you. Something to do with shoveling appalling quantities of money around. Something that painted his face with dark circles and glaring rectangles, shadows hollowing his alabaster cheeks, making him look more gaunt than he really was, as if all appetites had abandoned him. 

You knew, firsthand, this wasn’t the case.

But the work, whatever it is, steals the light from his irises, the definition from his shoulders. A silhouette losing shape in the cobalt smudges of dawn. You had learned to keep your eyes and fists closed, around cold sheets and the digits glowing red hot behind your lids, those numbers which never made it past 6:59AM.

You’ve stopped trying to curl your fingers around his wrist to find his warm pulse, met instead only by the chilling titanium cuff of his watch. The sting of his aftershave and the rasp of a kiss rushed against your forehead is the only proof of his presence before it can even fade from your view properly - so you've learned not to look for that outline disappearing beyond the door frame.

You both know if you open your eyes, however slightly, however full of sleep, he will be late. Often, you feel him stare, subtly willing you to test his resolve. And him, well, he has his own little rituals of temptations. It’s the tiniest things; his hint of mint in the crisp air, or the bustle of bristles hissing over enamel, sibilant as the sea.

Your lashes would flutter, slumber receding like the waves; in these twilight moments your gaze is searching, still empty of reproach - but as he senses you stirring, already the guilt piles high in his own, exposed as the shore.

He stands there in the dark, dripping with a mouth full of foam, watching your wakefulness moult into realisation, before the mutual regret retreats, mollusc-soft into the brittle shell of your smile:

“I hope you have a good day, Nanami.”

The bathroom light isn't switched on, but he watches your eyes shut in pincer-tight seams all the same, stifling the clawing in your chest and his with your cheek pressed against satin pillows. Watermarks would show up too clearly against such delicate material, so you make certain they don't.

Nanami knows this certainty too, feels it in your stare perched upon his back as he lathers his face. Several times he's made the mistake of stopping to look over his shoulder. Several times you've made the mistake of not dropping your gaze soon enough, or at all.

Neither of you can bring yourselves to call it a mistake however, when the bed sinks again with his weight, when the airy chastisement bubbles up from your throat against his stubble and soap, as he presses open-mouthed excuses along your jaw, "Just one kiss, darling, a few more minutes won't matter..."

But they do, of course, to the train conductors and his greedy boss and the gluttonous stock market brokers. And so Nanami finds himself forced to switch out the grind and whir of his electric razor to the barely audible scrape, scrape, scrape of a safety razor.

All risk of morning distractions shredded thin as you dream of them and him, dreams uninterrupted, reservoirs of desire dammed behind slumber, never to trickle into reality.

A morning comes when Nanami opens the bathroom cabinet that you keep dutifully stocked with both your necessities. There's ten boxes of disposable blades in the place where you'd normally store his batteries. He stares at it for a long time. For longer than he’d stared at that flyhead in that bakery weeks ago, when he’d first seen and left it.

Long enough to miss the 7am ride, and the 7:15am. Long past the peak-hour surge of last resort private hire cabs as well.

All those minutes did matter. And all the hours to come. And he knows how to spend them, who he really wants to invest them in. Whatever the risks.

Because Nanami's always wanted to see you like this, face glowing with surprise and a smile to rival the sunrise. He gets half of what he asks for, first the surprise, when you stir with the warm brush of his calloused thumbs and starched cuffs, the icy band of his costly wrist watch conspicuously absent. He smiles at the way you squint, perplexed and gripping his tie, anchoring yourself to the waking world, to him.

"Whyre…still here?Ydun have...time…"

"I do." Nanami promises, and he gets more than he asks for, than he dares for - as he always does with you. You press your mouth to him, he tastes your huff as he exorcises your disbelief, your breath an incandescent affirmation in his chest. It takes the midday sun at its highest point in the sky to remotely broach any comparison to your radiance, summoning his scorching touch.

ii.

The details of your partner's work remain a mystery to you. There is still something sharp and severe in his gaze when he stares at his phone, but the disgust dilutes into distaste, his frustrations ceding to a more manageable irritability, usually accompanied by some muttering about a “blindfolded man-child”. 

Shadows still rim Nanami’s eyes but he stands a little taller these days. Sometimes stiffer too, when you ask if all of it is worth it. You get the answer just from how rigidly he sets his jaw, an unassailable answer behind the vault of his lips, sealed to yours. 

Of course it is, to protect the most precious treasure in his life. 

His old job was technically complex - this one isn’t, not really. But it’s still too difficult to explain, too risky to understand.

All he says is, he’s trying to make the world a safer place, and that’s dangerous sometimes. 

Nanami doesn’t tell you more than that but you can extrapolate, or speculate rather. There are unfinished paragraphs in splotches of carmine, his bandages the only layer you’re allowed to peel back. So you grow grateful for the nights where the crimson merely speckles his shirt like commas or periods, even when you know they're just ellipses…and there’s no true addendum to the violence. Only epilogues.

The slivers of mornings have been exchanged for eternal twilights. Yes, you wake with Nanami by your side but the nights where you go to bed together are rarer. You hadn’t agreed to this trade-off. You hadn’t agreed to the hurried breakfasts and dinners dragged out over terse, tired, interminable silences - if he came back for them at all.

You hadn’t agreed to becoming far more familiar with the toaster rather than the stove-top. Or to the microwave becoming your most trustworthy, best friend over the expensive custom-built oven he’d purchased. There’s a constant tension in the inventory of your shared kitchen; fresh carrots, courgettes and alliums are reduced to stock cubes, while the jumbo bags of flour dwindle away to make space for value-packs of instant ramen instead. There are weeks when the war spills from your cabinets; you throw out wilted basil, whole cardamom pods, even the garam marsala powder has to go - turned into a solid block from being in the damp and dark too long. You’d almost wept when you had to toss the fenugreek seeds. Too many herbs and spices expired with barely a teaspoon’s dent made in their jars. You don’t even know what some of them are when you send them to their grave, the scuffed, faded labels as decipherable as hieroglyphs. 

There was a time you would have asked Nanami but he barely remembers buying them.

The dry cupboards are crypts, the fridge a cryogenic cry for help - if it wasn’t already a morgue, or a self-sustaining mausoleum.  

But you persist: Putting on his favourite skirt and that flattering apron, even while Nanami’s is hung in a corner fraying, accumulating dust, you make the decision to don your best smile and daub your wrists with the perfume he gifted you, the one which reeks of his regret, with its base notes of a promise still lingering on your skin; and you wait.

And you’ll wait. And wait.

You wait at the table, the steam growing cold long before the frost turns its keys in the lock and sweeps across your doorway. You rise to welcome him home to the honey glow, to the tungsten-warmth and spring in your step, to a plaiting of fingers and the coil of tongues, to feel the granite cliffs of his lips thaw against the meadows of your thighs. 

You rise and you glimpse it, his smile flickering, the familiarity sprouting in your chest, sun-summoned, dandelion-effervescent, fern tangle-firm in solid boughs spreading lush as vast cypress roots below. 

You reach towards him, the smile flickers again, his eyes scanning over the feast you prepared for him; the salad of pea tendrils and cauliflower florets, twinkling with the rubies of pomegranate pips. Filets of silver-skinned seabass, grill marks glistening gold with the tender white underbelly of its flesh. A caramel sheen, glass-thin over apple wafer-slices, delicately fanned in a glossy tarte tatin. 

“My love, what is this?”

He turns to you, and the lump in his throat is more unbearable than the gnawing in your belly.

“It’s dinner, Kento. Remember those?” you laugh, hating how hollowly it rings through you. 

Nanami has not taken more than two steps from the front step.

“Have I forgotten an anniversary?” he asks, tone already dubious, leaden with a quiet dread. “What’s the occasion?” 

You approach him hesitantly. “There’s no occasion,” you say softly, “Do we need one?”

You never did, before. This used to be the norm you shared.

But you already know his answer as your question hangs in the air, feeling the despair condense in the room as Nanami’s guilty gaze darts to his phone. 

“I’m so sorry, there’s another stake out. It’s an emergency, they want us out on the 10pm train tonight to Iwate. You know I wish I could-”

“For how long?”

“If there was any other way, I’d stay, but my colleague di-”

“How long, Kento?”

“Three days,” he whispers, clutching your hands. “Just three days.”

“Just three days. Right.” 

He lets the wintry bite of your response clamp around his heart, spreading fractal through it. 

“When I’m back, I prom-”

“Don’t.”

He’ll take your glare, at least you’re still looking at him, even eviscerating him. 

“Darling…” The wretchedness of his tone at least indicates how much he’s missed the wondrousness of all he’s sacrificing, that he’s aware apologies aren’t enough. You sigh, freeing your hands to cup Nanami’s face and he leans fully into your touch, soaking in the warmth of your palms.

“I’ll get you a box. Go pack.” 

Later, storing the leftovers, you’ll wonder if there’s enough cling film to wrap over your own eyes, nose and mouth. To bind yourself in a chrysalis, so you’d be blind to the clock till Nanami returned and made it home, made this place home again. You just had to wait.

iii.

He has the weekends at least. They’re no longer mere consolations, they are consecrations of the love you give each other. The bed becomes a confession booth, the place where he seeks penance and offers psalms in your name, for his mortal transgressions of being unable to be in two places at once, of letting you slip into this very same bed alone on too many nights. 

Nanami isn’t a religious man, has little concept of a Sabbath - but if he did, he’d think it a sin that the grace he finds in you can’t be stretched into Mondays, Tuesdays, Wednesdays, would believe it blasphemy that he doesn’t get to worship you throughout the week.

He wonders how you can look both so conniving and innocent in slumber, nestled against his side now. He recalls the all nighters he used to pull at his office, because he didn't know what else to squander sleepless empty hours on; how his colleagues would mock and jeer that he was spoiling the market, gunning so hard for a promotion but nothing could be further from the truth. He had no intentions of winning the rat race. In fact he wanted out of it. 

He’d thought maybe he could escape a little earlier if he ran further, ran faster but he didn't get out of the cage, he just stepped into a bigger and bigger maze, not even 25 and already hurtling towards a cul-de-sac, frequently fantasizing about how he might take that shiny new convertible the last pay bump afforded him and accelerate it into a nice solid alley. 

But then he’d met you; you, who broke the gridlock in his life, who inspired him to go down his own road. Even if they seemed to lead back to hauntingly familiar paths. 

No, he has a reason to look ahead now. He isn’t just trudging on day by day, even as he takes the present in his stride. His future is here. 

Nanami is gazing at his future, smooshed into his neck and smearing sticky gossamer threads against his cheek, tiny wheezy noises whistling through their nostrils when his phone begins to buzz. He sighs, reluctantly picking it up.

“Good morning, Nanami-san! Just calling to confirm we’ll be meeting at the warehouse at 11.”

“I’m sorry Takuma-san. I won’t be able to be there after all. Something else requires my attention.”

“Oh, I see.” Ino doesn’t try to veil the abject disappointment.

“But I trust you’ll be able to handle the investigation independently, Takuma-san.”

“Gosh, really? All right, I won’t let you down Nanami-san!”

Nanami clears his throat, adjusting to the ebullient whiplash coming from the other end of the line. Well, he hadn’t said anything that wasn’t true. He knew his assessments were accurate. He just also knew the junior sorcerer held a particularly high regard for him.

“By the way Nanami-san, not to be rude or anything but your voice sounds a little rough. You’re not under the weather are you?”

“Well…” Nanami looks at you snuggling into a more comfortable position, with his bicep as your pillow, pinning his shoulders to the sheets. 

“I suppose my arm is feeling slightly numb.”

“Oh, you should get to the root of that.”

Nanami glances down, containing the snicker in his chest as he hears you mumble something in your sleep. He skims a thumb over the apple of your cheek.

“I believe I will. Take care, Takuma-san,” Nanami says, concluding the call.

The warmth of his future seeps into his bones and Nanami thinks, after all these years, perhaps he can afford himself, and you, more than a little indulgence. He owes you that much. Or maybe he doesn’t have to hoard up all his leave days just to have this as a temporary respite; maybe he can make it permanent, for the rest of his life.

You thought your fiancè would leave most of the details to you but no, Nanami gets super involved with his rather strong opinions about the cake. 

“The Sicilian Lemon & Poppy Seed has a moister crumb,” he insists. 

You don’t say anything, only throwing a longing glance at the slice of pistachio cake between the two of you, a pout precariously balanced on the tines of the dessert fork pricking against your lips.

Nanami huffs through his nose, “I suppose we can do a fourth tier.”

Your face splits into a grin, and Nanami’s isn’t far behind as he presses bright citrus kisses to your mouth, savouring the light spilling into each other during this lull, quietly thrumming with all the energy of the day ahead of you both. 

It’s moments like these that affirm your joint decision to independently organise the wedding was the best one you’d ever made - second only of course, to agreeing to have Nanami in your life forever. The treasure trove of tender interludes made these past few weekends, bustling with errands, all worth it despite their hectic schedule.

Even though the two of you were planning for a modest reception, there was still so much to cross off the list. Handwritten invitations, trips to the florist, checking in with caterers on the menu development. You glance at your phone, there’s still about a dozen vendors to see to. But with your fastidious, generous sweetheart by your side, you’re sure the two of you will be able to settle everything before the big day, and enjoy all this extra time you were spending together.

“We’ll get those pain au chocolats to go, thank you.”

Nanami loops an arm around you, rubbing your shoulders as you adjust your scarf more snugly around your neck against the brisk autumn breeze.

“We’ll need to pick out fabrics for the iro-uchikake next.”

“No wonder you wanted to hit up the patisserie first,” Nanami chuckles, braiding his fingers through yours as the two of you stroll down the street, a swirl of maple leaves crunching underfoot. 

“I’m hoping it won’t take all afternoon, but I wanted to make sure we both got a bite first.”

“Good thing we got these emergency croissants then.”

“I thought we’re saving them for breakfast tomorrow?”

“Or I could make you your favourite loaded pancakes.”

You give Nanami’s hand a tight squeeze even as you sigh, “See this is why I couldn’t do the whole white wedding dress diet thing.”

“You hardly need to,” your beloved hums, fingers curling around the plush of those hips he adores so much, flush to his side, in step with you.

“You spoil me terribly, Kento.”

“Well, you’ll have to get used to that quickly, Mrs Nanami.”

An almost unbearable joy surges through your soul when you hear him address you this way. And soon (yet not soon enough) everyone else will call you that too. For forever more, you’d be Mrs Nanami.

After November 3rd, 2018.

iv.

November never arrives.

The end of October brings the end of the world, and the cracking open of one you wish you knew nothing about. One you still can’t comprehend, despite the deluge of information, despite your flood of rage and agony.

There’s only a single, salient fact through all of this - He’s gone. 

He’s gone, and there’s nothing to cling to. 

No broken mast to splinter through your ribcage, no driftwood that could salvage you as you’re ravaged by the waves. You want to drown, you want to drown, but every day you are spit back up on the shore so the salt can rend through your lungs once more, every day the sun still rips its way through your blackout curtains, a cruel gash of light exposing the stark reality of the empty spot in your bed. Right next to your fingers, curling your fist over the chasm, the space all the more frozen for the dust motes dancing over it.

The chill of the band on your fourth finger sinks into your palm, till you taste metal on your tongue, a mercurial poison in your bloodstream. It burns through you, numbs you. You shiver and you sweat. You close windows, you open them; caterwauls and gasoline fumes and the shrieks of ambulance sirens all bleeding through the panes - You can’t hear any of it over the hollow pounding in the cavity of your chest.

Something clawing at your esophagus, scrabbling to get out. Not a sob. You cannot swallow, throat too parched from not having eaten or drunk in days. You know what it is, it is screaming in your mind - but you will not let the world wrest this away from you too. 

You cannot even utter his name, not even murmured into the dark. You refuse to let the shadows steal his syllables, you want them, their rubble, the full weight of them trapping your tongue and his breath, the memory of his breath, its devotion to you, his oaths in your mouth, a vow half-blossomed, a full burden, caught between your lungs for eternity.

The details of your beloved’s work are no longer a mystery to you. 

A pink-haired boy with scarlet eyes shows up at your doorstep one day, trying to spare you the worst of it. He tries to tell you who he is, who the love of your life was to him. 

He can’t be more than 16, but it’s clear his youth has become just one more casualty from that savage night. In the slump of his shoulders, you recognise Kento’s back, stiff under the weight of all he’d never said, but told you you dissolved, just by being there. You don’t know if knowing would have made a difference. It didn’t matter, Kento had decided, simultaneously selfless and selfish: It was only through your ignorance he’d been able to preserve a semblance of bliss. 

But that had been his hubris. 

Had he expected you to pick up the debris in his wake, in this eternal nightmare? Did he think his worst fears would never come to pass? That you were worth the risk? You would never get those answers.

If only, if only there’d been ashes. You would have swallowed them whole. 

“We…we made rings, out of platinum…” You falter, your desperation rising thick in the air.

Itadori shakes his head, scarred hands knotting around his steaming mug. 

“I couldn’t find anything like that…I’m-I’m sorry,” he whispers.

In that wobbling apology, in the tremor of his lower lip which he tries to curl behind his teeth, you see it, on the edge of vanishing, his violent attempt to vanquish the final vestiges of childhood innocence, what Kento had fought and sacrificed to protect.

You don’t have the strength, everything has been drained and sapped from you, the weeks have stretched and stretched you thin, but you gather Yuji in your arms, and this time he doesn’t stop the streaks cascading from those cavernous eyes, pouring into the ravine of your soul. 

You hold him, you don’t know for how many hours, wracked and trembling and falling apart, and you clutch at the familiar and the imagined, you hold him, just to feel Kento’s frame shudder and shake against you once more, before it slips from your grasp and memory forever.

© sandsorghum. 2025