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ddarker-dreams · 11 months

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Nexus V.

Yandere Blade x F Reader.

Warnings: Yandere themes, unhealthy relationships, possessive behavior, codependency o'clock, implied/mentioned not SFW, coercion and mommy issues. Word count: 10.1k.

Nexus index.

Time is a way to measure reality.

It allows the woefully inadequate mind of a sentient being to process a sliver of something greater. The senses are a sieve that retains what little they can of the universe’s riptide. Considering this, it’s no wonder the Aeons tend to keep to themselves. How long would you entertain the whims of a speck of dust? You’d gain nothing from it. The dust cannot understand, it lacks the means to properly perceive you. It simply wishes to find a nice, comfortable spot to occupy its days. It can loathe, revere, or fear you, it matters not; for in the end, it’s nothing but a speck of dust.

So why do the Aeons occasionally make themselves known? What do they stand to gain? Further power, enlightenment, entertainment?

They should’ve just kept wading through the stellar sea.

Specks of dust shouldn’t be allowed to wield even an ounce of their power.

All it does is let them destroy themselves and others in new, horrific ways.

The white rings around your mother’s pupils shine.

She subjects Kafka and Blade to concurrent curses. Cutting, snipping, trimming; their psyches are flayed one layer at a time. How she does so rivals a butcher preparing a tender cut more than a doctor performing a delicate surgery. Inky blots propagate along Blade’s vision. From this limited perspective, you can’t determine Kafka’s condition. Not that it would matter, you can barely comprehend what Blade’s going through.

Mother has to be forming a link, right?

Ideally, both parties consent to a link’s formation. This grants stability and lowers the chances of complications. An unwelcome link is treated with the same hostility as an immune system that’s noticed a germ. It’s sought out, identified, then exterminated. The host may suffer malaise for a time, but if their body is in working order, the problem will sort itself out.

There has to be more to this, you surmise. Mom, please, don’t let this be the end. You can’t. Not you.

The disease inflicted on Blade metastasizes; Kafka is likely facing a similar predicament. Memories swarm around him like locusts, buzzing and biting.

The Zhuming is the womb from which divine weapons are born. It is the warden to the subdued Flint Emperor, whose flames once burned hot enough to rival the stars. These flames will one day exterminate the rampant borisin, the young boy is certain. Whether it be in his lifetime or not doesn’t matter. No child deserves to be made an orphan. He can’t undo what’s been done to him, but he can help prevent it from happening to others.

“If you believe you are up to the task, I will take you on as my apprentice. What you do with the knowledge I impart is your decision.”

This Foxian lady sent to retrieve support for the fight against the borisin loves to chat. There’s rarely an instance where a grin can’t be found on her face, wide enough that her eyes must squish to accommodate her exuberance.

“Just focus on what you want to do, and let fate take its course."

Those who belong to the short-life species cannot grasp a nebulous concept such as ‘fate.’ This sentiment is commonly found among his fellow Artisanship Commission members. It doesn’t deter him — if anything, his resolve is strengthened. His life won’t be as long as theirs, but it will burn hot and bright before it extinguishes.

“The borisins must pay the price for their evil.”

One day, a lady with long, silver hair, who has conquered the moon and brought it to heel, approaches him. The air around here is crisp, contrasting the sweltering air of the Zhuming. She reminds him of the winters he experienced on his home planet. He had forgotten how frost stings.

“A talent such as yours shouldn’t be left to drown amidst a mediocre sea. After this visit, I’m bound for the Loufu. A seat will be made available for you. Come and reach your full potential, or, languish here where your accolades will fade from history’s recollection.”

The Shard Sword, Starfall Reverie, Cloud-Piercer, and Baiheng’s recurve bow were no longer what he treasured most. Those monumental accomplishments don’t enrich lives, it ends them. Standing here, where the ocean’s blue is more brilliant than the artificial sky, is where he’s found something akin to peace. The Scalegorge Waterscape has become a gathering place for friends. Laughter, sparring, and the burning of liquor are shared beneath the moon’s watchful eye.

He raises a cup to his lips and silently wishes this joy could last forever.

“Do you remember?”

This voice interrogated him unceasingly for answers they both knew he couldn’t give. Again and again, he’d undergo a punishment disguised as a lesson. Frost didn’t just sting, it imparted necrosis, yet what is decomposition to an immortal but a joke? Again and again, his flesh would be pierced, organs punctured with expert execution. His body wasn’t allowed the privilege to rot.

Again and again, he’d be swallowed by death, only to be spat back up, as it’s unable to digest him.

"Listen, I can always kill you again, otherwise I can't bring you back."

What he thought to be prey standing in his way turned out to be apex predators. A woman who could render him useless with her words alone and a suit of armor that reflected the sun in his weary eyes. He had to get his fill of death before considering her offer. It sounded too good to be true, but he was reminded that the universe has enough instruments to perform the threnody he so desperately wishes to hear.

“Having trouble settling on a gift? Hm… I suppose that’s to be expected. Any off-world flora you leave behind will shrivel beneath the planet’s atmosphere, unless it possesses special qualities. It’d be a bad omen to give her a lotus that can wilt. Why not try a different approach?”

He stands solitary on the cragged terrain around the LOTUS-EATER. Though she’ll soon emerge to gaze up at the starless sky, his wait won’t end there. It’ll bleed into the next day, then the day after that, on and on the cycle will spin. Destiny’s Slave promised this vortex would end so long as he remained patient. Once he fully bows down before her, damnation will be her crown. The weight of his burden is to be shared by two.

He considers the iridescent crystals in his bandaged hands.

He thought the joy he found in creation died the same day ▇▇▇▇▇ did.

This emotion’s resurrection, however…

… If it’s a sin, then what’s another addition to his list?

“Listen, Blade, snap out of it.”

The swarm falls silent.

Bright screens, the thrum of the oxygen generator, sterile colors. Kafka towers over him, implying that he’s fallen to the ground. Her complexion lacks its usual glow. While Blade stands, she reaches inside her jacket and pulls out a portable blush. She dusts the rosy powder over her cheeks.

“That was unpleasant,” Kafka sighs. She snaps the container shut. “I guess that’s to be expected from one of Noct’s Emanators. It seems you bore the brunt of it, though.”

Mom, an Emanator? You think. Maybe… maybe that means she had a chance to get away. This was a diversion that she used to go into hiding. Faking a corpse is within their skillset, Silver Wolf can hack reality itself. I only looked at it long enough to confirm her identity.

Blade places a hand on his throbbing head and grimaces. His vision alternates between different degrees of blurriness. Kafka’s positioned in front of him, which prevents you from seeing the area your mother occupied. You pray to anything that might listen for her to fucking move already.

“That trip down memory lane was a red herring,” Kafka says. “She bought herself enough time to complete her real objective.”

Even Kafka thinks so!

Instead of explaining further, she leisurely reaches for her lipstick. Your frustration boils over. You aren’t the only one feeling impatient. Blade hasn’t uttered a word, but his typical apathy ebbs and flows irregularly. Kafka hums a tune as she smears the rouge pigment along her puckered lips. This whimsical attitude shows no signs of tapering off.

Blade exhales sharply, belying his annoyance. He’s near his limit as well.

Kafka clicks her tongue. “Don’t be so impatient, you two. I’m dolling myself up.”

…‘You two?’

“Yes. Now, let me assess the damage,” Kafka switches from looking at Blade to inspecting his psyche. She gasps, playing the role of a melodramatic damsel perfectly. “Oh my. Ania did a number on you.”

This woman is insufferable, always playing coy. I swear, the next time I see her—

“Your memories of [First] Phaeales, the visceral emotions she stirs up in you; they’re growing fuzzier by the second, I presume? In an hour or so, they’ll be gone altogether. Hmm… ‘gone’ might not be the best word to describe it. Sealed away might be more appropriate.”

A premonition too cruel to put into words coils around you.

No, no, no.

“Can you fix it?” Blade strains. The hypothetical Kafka suggested encourages his mara to writhe and hiss in dissatisfaction. It crawls around his head, murmurs near his cochlea in a scratchy voice, demanding a quick fix. To be deprived of you is unacceptable, it insists. This sentencing must be overturned. It wants you, needs you and will destroy anything to have you. Himself included.

Pandemonium wreaks havoc inside his head, it’s like he barely exists. The warring influences rip away as if drawing and quartering him.

“I can’t, no. It’s beyond my abilities,” Kafka’s smile is all teeth. “Fortunately, I do know of someone who can undo it.”

His mara hushes so it may hear her out.

“Contact them,” he snaps.

“You’d get all bashful if I did. Besides, I don’t think she’d do a very thorough job if she knew the context.”

Kafka stares Blade in the eye and tilts her head like she’s posing for the camera. “Isn’t that right, Miss Phaeales?”

You think you might be living in a nightmare.

Please, no…

Blade’s heart lurches inside his chest at your mention.

“Listen, Bladie. Until [First] Phaeales undoes her mother’s seal, you’ll be unable to remember the past twenty-four hours. The second the seal is undone, this memory, on June 8th, 2153 AE, starting from Eris’ local time of 0223 and concluding at 0214, will resurface in your consciousness. It will play for her so she’s fully caught up.”

How could something this awful… ever happen…?

The edges of the memory fade and curl inward like burning paper.

“I’ll throw in some advice, just for you, sweetie. He’s bound to get tongue-tied around you, so remember to be patient,” Kafka’s suggestion is muffled. “Oh, and another thing. You might want to get a headstart while you can.”

…

You can’t breathe.

The room performs for you, rippling side to side, hypnotizing as a pocket watch. A white blur whirrs by. Clink, clink, clink, it crashes, spurting its innards in a splatter of red and glimmering gold. The sound itself seems delayed, echoing a moment too late. It isn’t in time with the opal shards that scatter like teeth along the polished floor. The deluge is offbeat, dissonant, yet the song continues.

You can’t breathe.

The percussion is ousted, making way for the woodwind section. The flutes raise and raise in pitch. This tocsin sounds shrill and consistent, stabbing your eardrums, and vibrating your bones. Dizziness makes for a distracting audience member, its dry, unblinking eyes landing on you. It opens its maw impossibly wide, tearing the tendons around its cracked lips, and swallows your head. For some reason, it cannot go past your neck, so it contents itself with gorging on your cranium like it’s sucking candy.

You can’t breathe.

There’s something living inside your throat. A parasite, leech, or slug, maybe. It wriggles back up whenever you try swallowing, like jello on a wobbling plate. The tiny hairs along its gelatinous body tickle your esophagus. You’re always on the precipice of choking, but not quite. It delights in the warm and moist cavern you’ve provided.

You can’t die because it wants more from you.

You can’t be reduced to a husk because your vitality sustains it.

You can’t breathe, you can’t breathe, you can’t breathe—

Something awful touches your skin and you want to burn the residue it leaves behind.

“[First].”

You scramble back until your spine hits a cold, solid surface. A hand retracts.

What is this thing before you? It’s tall and has eyes like vats of blood. You see your reflection held captive inside the crimson miasma. The woman it shows resembles you in some ways and doesn’t in others. She looks afraid. Sickly. Lost somewhere between the junction of life and death. Traipsing, testing the fraying line’s integrity. One wrong step guarantees a plummet to inconceivable depths.

“[First].”

“Don’t,” you rasp, your voice wobbling like a transmission with a poor signal, “Don’t you fucking dare come near me!”

He listens. For now, at least. You’d be a fool to mistake stalling for surrender. You press your back into the wall hard enough to ache. The enclosed space seemingly shrinks around you. You press a trembling hand over your heart, feeling how it hammers against your chest cavity. The room’s air is stifling. Your sympathetic nervous system can’t decide its course of action. Should the little oxygen you’re inhaling go to your brain or your heart? Delegation is a tricky endeavor.

Blade’s gaze eats you alive.

He’s starving and you’re the only thing that can fill him.

The manifestation of his mara frightened you less.

Mom, what have I done? What can I do?

“You should sit,” he says. You want to rip his vocal cords to shreds. “There’s nowhere to run and you know better than to fight.”

As if he had to remind you.

The Shard Sword. So that’s the name of the terror he wields? You’ve read about it in history books, there are entire chapters dedicated to the High-Cloud Quintet’s exploits. Even if he were unarmed, you wouldn’t stand a chance. Any flesh wound will heal, any organ will stitch itself back together, and any death will be a temporary visit he’ll saunter back from.

Blade takes a step closer.

How do you get out of this? How do you get him to stop? What would get him to stop?

What could he possibly want more than you?

Oh.

The answer unfurls like a body bag.

… There is one more thing, isn’t there?

You thread your psyches together with a thin string. It’s too weak in its present state, the weight of your goal will make it snap instantly. You need to fortify it as best as you can. Otherwise, there is no place you can go where he won’t find you. The prismatic shards that record his history are no longer indecipherable, each moment is visible to you, forming a macabre mosaic.

The second you finalize this link, he’ll know. Your touch isn’t a stranger to his mind anymore. Nothing about you is.

You recall the shattered opal goblet a few feet away.

You let your knees buckle like they’ve desired all along. You fall toward the jagged shards and you brace yourself. It happens as swiftly as you expected — his inhuman speed allows him to catch you easily. He steadies you against him, holding you up since the strength leaving your body wasn’t an act.

Your hand brushes over a sliver of his skin.

You wanted me to show you what it’s like to die, you think. It isn’t beyond my means at all, Yingxing!

The Synalink is a success.

He might want you, but his longing for a permanent death eclipses that.

This is a scenario unlike any you’ve ever built before. The dimensions are simple, you’re creating one static scene. It isn’t a vast galaxy with trade, economies, and conflicting ideals, teeming with planets that house millions of individuals who each have their own role in the story to play. Grass doesn’t have to blow just right, there aren’t bystanders whose conversations you need to generate and perform maintenance on.

The stage you’ve built is, at its core, nothing. A vacuum you’ve molded into a cube and placed him in the middle of.

You’ve cut off stimuli to each of his senses. He can’t perceive anything, because there’s nothing to perceive.

His psyche shows no signs of resistance. This is what he wants, isn’t it? Total absolution. The loss of self, to be undone and woven into the universe’s indifferent tapestry. Every factor has aligned in your favor like a once-in-a-millennium syzygy. Your newfound knowledge of his past, his most innate desire being death, then the amplification physical touch brings.

This isn’t an unknown pathogen, it’s a welcome salvation.

You just have to maintain it.

Your main hurdle is finding a way to do so while navigating the physical world. The slightest deviation could have catastrophic consequences, his acumen is that competent. How long can you sustain this Synalink if you don’t dedicate your entire attention to it? There’s no point of reference. For all you know, it could be impossible.

Regardless, you have to try.

Reopening your corporeal eyes, you find yourself in the private room.

The Stellaron Hunter, who uses the alias ‘Blade,’ stands behind you like a cocked gun.

He isn’t moving. The white rings in his eyes match yours. His vitals are consistent with what you see in clients immersed in Synalinks. Low respiration and heartbeat, and the paralysis of limbs so as to deter unwanted motor functions.

You hold your breath, shimmy out of his loosened grasp, and then cautiously take a step back.

Your heels crunch down on a stray fragment from the broken goblet. You cringe.

You expect the worst when you gather the courage to look at him again.

Still nothing.

Keeping your back against the wall, you awkwardly slide toward the door leading to The Lounge.

The burning question of what to do next sears your mind. You have no faith or trust in Chrysus. There’s Caicias, but he’s in Mele. The fastest nectar guide would still take two hours, factoring in the repairs being done to the one in Thelx. Even if he did make it here, what could he do? Help you negotiate? Would Blade even give him the chance? You’d be condemning the elder quadrant leader to certain death.

Who is in your star system? You’ve heard that the Astral Express has had run-ins with the Stellaron Hunters, but they could be millions of light-years away. Then there’s Kafka. If she goes too long without hearing from Blade, she won’t just sit around and let you scheme. Silver Wolf could hack into the LOTUS-EATER’s surveillance system or use thermal imaging to gauge the situation.

The price of hope is too steep.

Your fingers grope blindly for the door’s switch. You refuse to take your attention off Blade for a split second. You feel a protrusion, start to flick it up—

Sparks fly from the wall like frantic fireflies, joined by chunks of dark debris. Strands of your hair blow aside as if subject to a wicked gale. Sediment scratches at your skin. Out of instinct, your eyes squeeze shut, shielding you from what they can. A figure towers above you. You can’t see him, but you can feel him. The torment, bloodlust, and yearning are so prevalent that they may as well be in the room alongside you.

Through a looking glass, you saw the reflections of a wretched life.

How he fell victim to a friend unwilling to accept a comrade’s untimely demise. That for this incursion, death would never grant him permanent residency. Over a thousand times, a swordmaster gripped by madness tested this ordinance, her strikes colder than winter’s wrath.

He’d lose a piece of himself each time, leaving a mangled afterimage of what he once was.

A sinner rendered mara-struck and immortal — a shade that will dye you his accursed color.

Blade pins your wrists above your head. It hurts, but you’ve learned there’s pain worse than this.

“Open your eyes.”

It isn’t a request.

You hesitate for as long as he allows. Ultimately, you have no choice but to give him what he wants. Scarlet eyes reward your reluctant obedience. Leering, glowing. Your chest heaves beneath the burden of each breath. Something wet and warm trickles down your cheek. It titillates the flames of his mara as if it’d been lathered in oil. He shackles your wrists with his gloved hand and drags the other downward. Over your temple, cheekbone, then finally, your chin.

He tilts your head up.

Neither of you speak.

How? How did he break free?

You didn’t sense any fluctuations, nothing that’d warn of your incoming fate. Your control didn’t slip, it was pulled out right from underneath you.

Isn’t death what every segment of his psyche seeks? His rationality, morality, and base instincts were all in agreement, a unanimous jury that didn’t require deliberation.

What unforeseen note upset this triad?

Your reflection in his eyes is drenched in red.

“Haha… seriously?” You laugh a humorless laugh. “Me?”

Blade doesn’t respond. You don’t know if he heard you. Either way, it doesn’t matter. He is the author of whatever happens next.

A butterfly with injured wings loses none of its original beauty. If anything, it’s made easier to admire, now that it can no longer fly away. You have nowhere to go, nothing to do, and not a word to say that’d make a difference. This futility reassures his mara. That which was held above its head has been made to crawl along the ground. Blade seizes total control of himself as his mara slinks away. Cognizant of his bruising grip, he releases you. Without his crushing support, you collapse like a house of cards. Your knees hit the ground.

You sink down further and squeeze your head in between your hands.

It hurts, mom, it hurts. Why couldn’t you give me up one more time? ‘My’ life never belonged to me in the first place, anyway. You should’ve granted the shift in ownership when it was still a choice.

… I’m scared.

There is no getting out of this, is there?

Metal clinks by your side. Dazedly, you inspect the sound’s source. A silver dagger rests beside you. It’s small in build, yet pointed as a weapon should be. Your attention flitters between him and the blade. What is this? A pitiful attempt to level the playing field? Has he not humiliated you enough? Taken everything that wasn’t yours to give?

Sensing your confusion, he explains, “Sins should be punished.”

You grasp the hilt.

It’s heavy.

“What… are you even saying…?” You murmur. Is he referring to your mother? “It’s ‘permissible’ to take life, according to you.”

You recount his creed with the venom it merits.

He falls silent.

“Not yours… not for free,” he drawls. “I’ll pay any price.”

Transactions benefit both parties. What’s there for him to gain?

You stand on unsteady legs.

Blade’s countenance is an impenetrable fortress. The violent waves have settled, leaving still, murky waters. Is it twisted affection swirling in his gaze? Guilt? The celebration of a long-fought battle? You don’t know. You don’t know what to think, feel, or do. You’re just numb. What will you be after this? Your mother likened their designs for you to a ‘retractable leash.’ Close, but not quite.

You’ll be more of a portable oxygen tank.

Kafka can’t always be there to soothe Blade’s mara, but you can. You will. You have to. It’s a duty that binds more than marriage.

If transactions benefit both parties, then…

What he’s offering to pay for here is you.

Your eyes drop down to the dagger.

The currency will be blood and flesh. He’ll let you kill him, however you want, for as long as you want. Ten, one hundred, one thousand times or beyond, until you feel the scales have balanced. The blank canvas has given you the tools to create your final masterpiece. Once the paint dries, the roles will reverse. The subjugated will become the subjugator. It isn’t a matter of if, it’s a matter of when.

You raise the dagger, his cold heart your target. It’s yours. A gift, a burden, an unbreakable vow.

You plunge it down, and—

—He doesn’t even flinch.

The tip of the blade rips his shirt, but not his flesh.

You toss it aside and shake your head.

“Has anything worthwhile… ever come from killing you…?”

Blade doesn’t respond, but you know he heard you.

He furrows his eyebrows, your question hanging over his head. Whatever he expected, this must not have been a possibility he accounted for. Had he been anyone else, he might conflate mercy for forgiveness. He isn’t, though. He knows the crippling weight of guilt. How it secretly imbues you with a craving for more, so you can finally be crushed to death, instead of being forced to roll the boulder onward.

Each slice would be for him as much as it is for you.

If that’s penance to him, you will never grant it.

“My mom…” you trail off, not because you don’t know how to complete the sentence, but because finishing it will finish something inside you. “Is she…?”

Blade’s memories have made their way back to him using you as their bridge. You could parse through them, but you don’t want to. You don’t think he’ll lie. He hasn’t lied to you as far as he knew. The truth is worse and the truth is what you’ll get. The emotions you pick up from him hint at what you already know. They nibble at you as piranhas would. Notably missing from the onslaught is any iteration of guilt or its distant cousin, regret.

He’d die a thousand deaths to pay the fee of having you. What’s a little more bloodshed to someone who views death as enviable?

“Never mind,” you murmur. “Forget I asked.”

He won’t.

He refuses to forget anything about you ever again.

For now, he’ll pretend otherwise.

You’ve decided that from this distance, Eris looks like a marble.

It’s just a little black sphere, infused with the occasional stream of gold. You center the image in between your thumb and pointer finger, making minuscule adjustments until it fits just right. Once you’re content, you hold it there, squinting your left eye so this speck’s the main focus.

As of the latest census in 2155 AE, the planet Eris is thought to have a population of 2,912,840. 560,432 in Ade, 1,510,781 in Mele, an estimated 200,400 in Arc, and 641,227 in your home quadrant of Thelx. Each of those numbers can be attributed to a living, breathing being. Someone with their own family, history, ethics, dreams, and struggles. Your fellow Nymphalians, descendants of prisoners dumped on a dark and frigid planet to die.

You thought you’d given them your life before. In a pretty, metaphorical sense, that could be made into poems for generations.

Your conversation with Destiny’s Slave reassured you that no, there’s nothing pretty or metaphorical about what awaits you. No one will be penning sentimental poems detailing an ascetic’s life led in solitude so that the people may prosper. You’ll be a cold case. For a week, your name will be a hot topic on primetime television. A headline sprawled in large font across news media companies. ‘Tragedy Strikes: Eris’ [First] Phaeales Kidnapped, IPC Implicates Stellaron Hunters,’ or something to that effect.

Then another calamity will occur and you’ll be pushed from the public’s consciousness.

You might get a special mention on anniversaries. The first, fifth, tenth, fiftieth, then the hundredth. Podcasts will do deep dives. Books will be written. Forum boards will swap theories. Who knows? An anonymous user might guess the truth and be labeled a conspiracy theorist for their troubles.

You pinch your thumb and pointer finger together, smushing the faraway planet from your perspective.

“Boom!” You exclaim in a whisper yell. “Is that how easy it is to you?”

He doesn’t respond.

You turn away from the sheet of glass separating you from the limitless depths of outer space.

“The silent treatment, huh?” You muse, drumming your fingers against the window pane. “You saw this future and worked oh so hard to procure it. What? Having second thoughts, now that it’s here? That’d be a shame.”

There’s something ugly living inside your heart. It’s been there since you were born and will remain until you die. Maybe it lives inside everyone, you can’t say, you can only speak for yourself. Kindness isn’t inherent, it’s learned. Practiced so that it may be honed. Otherwise, the steel grows dull and rusts. Sharpening means losing layers of yourself against a whetstone. Those layers are worth losing, you’re told. Spite, vengeance, hatred; they’re all so, so ugly. Little imps that should be sandpapered away.

An eye for an eye makes the whole world blind, that sort of platitude. It’s nice bumper sticker material. Something to slap on a graphic tee or coffee cup, maybe. To be fair, practicing the antithesis isn’t so simple either.

You don’t want his eye, it’ll grow back.

You don’t want his life, he’ll just be born anew.

You don’t want him, but from now on, he’s all you’ll get.

“Are you curious about the deal I made with Elio?” You probe.

Blade sighs, likely preparing himself for the vitriol you’ll slew his way.

“I don’t need to know.”

“You want to know, though,” you smile thinly. “I could feel you brooding from rooms away. What? Does the thought of me speaking to another man displease you that—”

He rushes forward and lifts you by the collar of your blouse. You don’t waver, if anything, you could get drunk off this emotional outburst. His nostrils flare and you can feel his warm breath fan against your face. Your heart whirrs strong against its bony restraints, adrenaline blasting throughout your system.

“That mouth of yours is testing me,” he chuckles, although he’s far from amused. “Have you forgotten the position you’re in?”

“Have you?” You scoff. His grip tightens. “Go ahead. Choke me, ravish me. You can’t bring yourself to though, can you? Want to know why? Hm? You’re holding out for the slim, impossible chance that I might return your fucked up feelings, even if just a little bit.”

Scornfully, you whisper, “Elio was generous enough to answer some of my questions. The extent of the Stellaron’s influence, the true perpetrators behind the nectar guide bombing, why you’d get so pissy whenever Lear swung by… in retrospect, it’s painfully obvious, really. Messing with the LOTUS-EATER’s noise-canceling software is child’s play for Silver Wolf. Did you enjoy eavesdropping on us? Probably not, huh?”

He growls your name, low and menacingly. It’s a warning.

You ignore him. Maybe you shouldn’t, but you do.

“I never told him,” your lower lip trembles. “Because of you, I’ll never get to, either. You want to pay a price? Have your sins punished? Start by listening to this!”

His mara bubbles up as if it were magma. For someone unraveling from the inside out, he doesn’t look the part. Emotion and vitality have drained from his face. His complexion is that of the dead man he wishes himself to be. Pale, vapid. He wants you to stop, yet the only way you would is if he tore out your tongue. To do so would guarantee he’d never get to hear those three words directed at him. He must consider that fate harrowing indeed if he allows the means for you to utter your next sentence.

The finger you pricked all those years ago tingles.

“Lear is the only one I’ve loved. The only one I’ll ever love. He gave me a life; you’ve destroyed mine. How could you ever compare, Yingxing? How can you even come close?”

You wrench yourself free from Blade’s grasp. He lets you.

His hands remain where you once were. Gradually, they fall, as do his shoulders and head. It’s peculiar. You’ve come to be so in tune with his emotions, picking up on frequencies only you can hear. This pitch falls silent. His mara is too. The infighting over where he should begin and end calls for a temporary cease-fire. Neither madness nor sanity care for victory, their attention has been cast elsewhere, to a more prominent problem.

“It is.”

You narrow your eyes. “What?”

“Earlier, you asked if it’s that easy for me,” he says, plainly. “It is.”

Your system absorbs the implication as well as it would cyanide.

“Eris and all of its inhabitants are strictly off-limits. I figured you'd already heard this.”

“I have.”

“Then—”

“It’s not loyalty that ties the Stellaron Hunters together,” he interrupts. “It’s the pursuit of individual goals which just happen to align.”

Blade saunters forward. You bristle, awaiting unwanted physical contact, yet he brushes by your shoulder. His footsteps echo throughout the ship’s hollow corridors. You pivot, intent on following his every movement. He gazes out the window, your home planet his point of interest. The little black and gold marble orbited by four moons, far away from any star.

“Goals change, lotus.”

His eyes find yours in the window’s reflection.

He’s bluffing. He has to be.

“You’ve sought death for over 700 years,” is your uneasy reply. “Surely, you wouldn’t risk the one avenue you have to reach it.”

“Didn’t I already betray that expectation of yours?”

Death is no longer what every segment of his psyche seeks, as it’s the one place he can’t have you.

“... You’ve stopped running your mouth. Clever girl,” Blade flexes his fists by his side. The leather glove on his hand creaks as he does so. “If you think this an empty threat, I have a suggestion.”

Blade grins from ear to ear.

“Repeat any of what you just said to me and I’ll prove it isn’t.”

It’s as if his mara forms tendrils that slowly slither up your body. It caresses your thighs, your midriff, and your chest. Breathes against your nape and coils around your neck. You can’t find the strength to move. It wishes you would so that it’d have an excuse to hold you tighter. Squeeze harder. Sink into you deeper.

You glower at him. His mara keens, finding the expression delightful.

“Look at me like that any longer and I’ll take you up on your suggestion.”

You pinch your eyebrows together, belying your confusion.

He wets his lips with his tongue.

“‘Choke me, ravish me,’ was it?” he muses, chuckling breathlessly. “Who am I to deny such a tempting offer?”

Finally, you muster the effort necessary to break free from his hypnotic stare. You’re overcome with the need to scrub off every part of your skin he’s touched. You want the residue gone, purged from your flesh. Nausea floods you like a broken dam.

You let him touch you, you let him kiss you, you let him fuck you.

He can’t have anything else.

You don’t know what more there is to take.

His eyes are heavy on your back as you leave the room. This spaceship’s decently big, but it’s not enough. A universe could separate you, but it still wouldn’t suffice. You’ll create any gap you can, illusionary or otherwise. You speed through the ship’s main corridor until you near what’s to be your room. Before you can open it, your hand stills.

Elio said we’re to leave on a job the second Silver Wolf starts distracting the IPC’s blockade, you think. That should be any minute now.

Your blood freezes over.

After this ship makes the jump, you’ll never see Eris again.

Or Nona.

Or Lear.

Will Nona continue to pursue her studies without you there to teach her? Is there a reason for her to? She’s come so far since you first met. That harsh, untrusting girl with a permanent scowl blossomed into something truly special.

“Seriously? You’re supposed to be my mentor?”

“Alright, lemme set one thing straight. I’m here to save up enough to leave this shithole. If that hurts your feelings, go and cry to mommy about it, I couldn’t care less. It’ll be bad press to ship your latest Arc rescue back over, after all.”

“Why do you care about this planet, anyway? Beyond whatever sense of purpose you get from playing the hero, I mean. All anyone here ever does is complain and half-ass things. ‘Let’s give anarchy a shot guys, but like, a nice version of anarchy, where we all hold hands around a campfire and sing songs.’ It’s hilarious.”

“The first time I made it to Thelx’s border as a kid, I thought I was hallucinating. I asked my older travel buddy, ‘What’s with these tiny, floating yellow spheres?’ She didn’t even spare me a glance, she was so enchanted. ‘That’s light,’ she said. ‘Take a good, long look. You won’t be seeing much of it.’ I remember how angry hearing that made me. Not just what she was saying, but how she said it. Like she’d given up. Like that was acceptable.”

“A cargo ship bound for Rosiz is heading out in three cycles. You and Lear could come with me, y’know. Elope, or whatever. My contact would allow it. Probably. Hey, don’t give me an answer right away. Geez. At least think about it.”

“Yep, I’m still here. Surprise! My other plans fell through, what can I say? Apparently, Rosiz is run by a weird blood cult. I don’t want anything to do with that. Guess you’re stuck with me a while longer. What’s with that look? Yeah, I still think this planet’s a shithole. But, you’re here, so… it’s 5% less shitty, give or take. Lear brings that up to a whopping 15%. Yes, he gets a value of ten. Have you tasted his cooking?”

Will Lear ever know how much it meant when he comforted the haughty and naive girl you once were? How without him, all you ever would’ve known was loneliness? You were a handful, there’s no doubting that. It’s a miracle he put up with you.

He had the softest voice when you were kids.

“I’m supposed to play the princess? But… but… I’m a boy, and you’re a girl… so shouldn’t you…? Ow, ow, stop pinching! Okay, okay! I’ll be the princess! Eh? Whaddya mean ‘you’ll kiss it better?’ Miss Phaeales? Miss Phaeales…?!?!?!”

“I’m back from work, my wife. Huh? Husbands don’t say that? No no no no, you can’t play the husband, I have to play the husband! Lemme try again! Ahem. From work, I have returned… woman… I’ve married. That’s no good either? This is so complicated!”

“I dunno why you like Connect Four so much. I mean, we could play Monopoly, but you always steal credits when I look away. No, that's not allowed! … You’re just ‘being a capitalist?’ What’s that mean? Cheater, or something?”

He didn’t lose this soft quality when he became an adult — his tenderness was the air you breathed.

“‘What do I want,’ huh? Where do I begin? To be a part of you, I guess? Ah, if I’d known you were going to grin like that, I wouldn’t have said anything. W-Well, of course I want you. I just don’t think the phrasing’s right. You’ve always viewed yourself as a commodity. I don’t want to reinforce such a terrible thought.”

“It’s… so good, so warm, so… fuck, please, don’t look at me like that. I can’t believe… that I get to do this with you. You’re beautiful, you’re everything…! I’ve always loved you so much. So, so much. Is this okay? Is it really okay? If it is, then please, let me pleasure you.”

“Quit messing around with me already. There’s no way that was your first time. Because, I mean, you’re so sought after, y’know? You must’ve had tons of opportunities to— ow ow ow, again with the pinching?! Alright, I get it, I get it! Pfft, stop, don’t make it weird. Okay, fine, hearing that does make me a little happy. Aaand there you go, making it weird. No, I’m not possessive. You said you don’t like possessive men, so… what? Of course I remembered that. I remember everything you say. Wait… are you embarrassed? I didn’t… didn’t think that was possible… one sec, lemme get my camera…”

You swore an oath not to cry.

You didn’t when packing the few items Blade approved of, or when you negotiated with Elio.

It’s not that you don’t want to. Should your resolve slip for a second, you grow dangerously close to drowning in a puddle of your own tears. There’s plenty to cry about, plenty to mourn. Once you start, though, you don’t think you’ll ever be able to stop. You’ll waste away as your body’s wrung for all its worth. Should that happen, you won’t be able to uphold your end of the bargain with Elio.

There’ll be a lot more to cry about then.

For this reason, you don’t turn back.

Your deal with Destiny’s Slave consists of two elements.

First, you are to serve as Blade’s ‘field partner,’ offering him your unremitted support however he sees fit. And second, you pledge the full extent of your psionic abilities to further the Stellaron Hunters’ mission. This second condition perplexed you, but it wasn’t like you had many bargaining chips. For so long as you cooperate, Eris will remain unharmed and the nascent Stellaron neutralized.

Kafka had called to ‘celebrate your inauguration.’ You braced yourself for the worst, but she was surprisingly amicable.

“Have you really never considered your utility outside of parlor tricks?” She wondered. “The power to create fantasias and read memories certainly has its uses, no?”

“I just don’t see how it’d contribute much,” you replied.

“If it stopped there, maybe. Should you be able to replicate Ania Phaeales’ seals, though… that’d come in handy.”

You gritted your teeth and read between the lines. They want that too, huh?

You’ve since worked tirelessly to understand how such an anomaly is possible, much less replicable. Silver Wolf provided an updated version of the Arbiter training software to aid your endeavors. You’ve tried and failed hundreds of times. Deleting fragments of a person’s psyche has disastrous results, as you once hypothesized. If the Stellaron Hunters wanted a foe lobotomized, they wouldn’t have gone through all the trouble of obtaining you.

The holographic screen floating before you presents an error message.

‘Generated psyche #643, Garçia Chamora, has been rendered comatose from suffering damage to his cerebral hemispheres. Press here or say next to generate a new psyche.’

You sigh and pinch the bridge of your nose.

This job on Rosiz requires a nobleman’s lifelong fealty to be sealed, you think. If I can’t figure this out before then…

Your stomach jumps to your throat like you’re in a free fall.

Leaning back in your chair, you swipe the screen away. You look at the digital clock in the ship’s common room. It reads 2:05 a.m. This shift to a twenty-four-hour time has been a pain, but you think this number means it’s late. While glancing around the uninspired decor, your eyes land on a solitary figure.

Blade sits on a beige couch with his arms and legs crossed, his eyelids shut. You assume he’s asleep. There are plenty of comfortable beds he could veg out on, but wherever you are, he isn’t far behind. You don’t get why he’s playing prison warden. He can’t think you’re stupid enough to try escaping with almost three million lives dangling over your head, can he? Perhaps he’s getting off on your suffering.

Whatever the case, you loathe having to breathe the same air as him. You wish he’d fuck off already.

You’ve barely spoken to one another since he made his threat. If it has to do with the upcoming job, you’ll give a few curt words and nothing more. He’s never been outgoing, so without you initiating conversation, hours trudge by in tense silence. You’ve recently made the unfortunate realization his input on your mother’s seal would be useful. He was under it for two years, there must be some information you can glean from him. You need anything you can get.

The thought of asking him for assistance, though… it makes you sick.

“What?” he asks, his voice gravelly from unuse.

You tense. He could tell you were looking at him without opening his eyes?

“Nothing,” you reply.

He grunts and that’s the end of it. You pull the holographic screen back up, eager to distract yourself. Except, all you can focus on is the #643 in the bottom left corner. You’ve already made that many attempts without any progress? One of Kafka’s contacts is going to help sneak this ship onto Rosiz in two days. You’re running out of time.

You spare Blade a quick glance. Unsurprisingly, he hasn’t moved.

Every muscle in your face scrunches up as if you’d bitten a lemon.

Just get it over with, you tell yourself.

“Blade?”

He makes a noise to prove he heard you.

“Can I… ask you a few questions?”

“That depends on what they are.”

You exhale shakily. “When your memories of me were sealed away, what did it feel like?”

His mara murmurs, discontent at this reminder. He appears outwardly unaffected.

“Why do you want to know?”

You play with your skirt’s hem, picking at a loose thread. This is what you were afraid of.

“Knowing will help me understand and replicate the seal better,” you explain. Then, you hastily add, “For the job.”

All is silent. You shift in your seat.

“That isn’t my concern,” is his eventual answer.

Your jaw drops. “Wh— are you serious? You wouldn’t want to botch a job, would you?”

“It wouldn’t be me ‘botching’ it,” Blade says, coolly, evenly. “It would be you.”

You gnash your teeth together but bite your tongue. As callous as he’s acting, he isn’t wrong. He doesn’t owe you anything. Especially after you said what may have been the worst combination of words to him. You refuse to regret it, but you can follow the cause and effect.

“You really don’t care about what’d happen?” You press, breathless. “Eris is my home. You lived there for months yourself, experienced the culture… does that mean nothing?”

“Why do you ask questions you know you won’t like the answers to?”

Blade hasn’t so much as opened his eyes. You just don’t get it — you’ve peered inside his mind multiple times and still struggle to understand him. To what extent does he care about you, if that word even applies here? Does it stop at your physical well-being? Can his current nonchalance be attributed to your diatribe, or would he have acted this way regardless? He doesn’t make sense. He’s an enigma.

You decide to try another approach.

“What about Nona? You’d still feel nothing then?”

Finally, he opens his eyes. The warm hues feel cold.

“I hold no ill will toward your student. I’d consider it a shame,” he says. Despite his impersonal word choice, he isn’t being sarcastic. That must mean something. Before you can expand on this, he smiles. It’s far from kind. “I see you’ve omitted your boyfriend from this thought exercise. A wise choice.”

Your heart skips a beat.

Ah, fuck.

“A word of advice, girl. Manipulation isn’t your forte.”

It feels like a struggle between life and death to maintain eye contact.

“Negotiation, though, you’re half-decent at,” Blade muses. He inclines his head to the side. “Well? Make me an offer.”

You worry your bottom lip between your teeth. What do you have to offer? In a business setting, you can lowball some figures, that’s how everyone starts. You doubt he’s interested in money or stocks. There’s your Synalink ability, but there’s no way he’ll put himself in a vulnerable position like that again. Everything’s been taken from you. Your business, assets, connections, leverage; all you have are the clothes on your back. Still, if he’s entertaining this conversation, there must be something.

Goosebumps erupt all over your skin. “Are you… propositioning me?”

“Oh? That’s how you’ve chosen to interpret it?” he raises an eyebrow. “If that’s your offer, I accept.”

“No, I’m not—!”

“I know. Calm down,” he interrupts your panicked exclamation. “You’re easily rattled when exhausted.”

Your heart’s pounding so loud in your ears that it’s difficult to hear him.

“Relax. The next time I take you, I want you willing.”

The next time? Is he delusional? Has he suffered long-term memory loss? You’d sooner saw off your hand than sleep with him ever again. You come dangerously close to voicing this, but ultimately decide against it. You need him in an agreeable mood. This seal — have you been set up for failure? You can’t imagine why they’d bother. Still, there’s no singular script, as per Elio’s own admission. It’s a string of possibilities loosely connected by little choices. If one script isn’t followed, that means another has taken center stage.

Should you be unable to deliver, that future has been accounted for as well.

It’s a future that can’t come to pass.

Blade speaks your name.

“Come over here,” he says.

Your eyes widen and lips part, horror painting itself across your countenance.

He clicks his tongue. “Trust your own intuition. You said it yourself, didn’t you? That I’m ‘holding out.’”

You fight the urge to wince at the quotation. He’s the one who mentioned it, not you. This can’t count as an infraction on your behalf. Taking a deep breath, you start trekking over, counting each step. Thirteen, fourteen, fifteen… ah, it didn’t take anywhere near long enough.

He pats the spot beside him. Once you’re situated, an arm coils around your shoulders, tugging you into his side. Your heart thumps away. This is reminiscent of the evenings you spent together in your office and on the balcony. The high you received from sex would fade away, replaced by this nice, soft haze. Talkative as you were then, there was something about those moments that kept you quiet. You’re not sure why.

Maybe it’s because you realized you’d finally met someone lonelier than yourself.

“You’ve hardly eaten or slept. That I can understand,” Blade says. “What I don’t get, however, is why you haven’t cried.”

“I can’t.”

“You’re often on the verge of tears. Like now, for instance,” he points out. You struggle to swallow the lump in your throat. “Why not let it go?”

Something already broken in you shatters beyond recognition.

“What good would that do?!”

Your fingernails dig into your palms hard enough to bruise the sensitive flesh.

“I’m nothing, I-I have nothing, I’m—” you laugh and laugh, making your throat feel scratchier than it already is. “I wanted to do so much…! I was stupid. So stupid! I actually thought that I could— could find a way to fix things, if only I kept working, kept trying! There isn’t a way. There never was a way. We’re greedy, we’re awful, we’re ignorant. A planet like that… a universe like this… so long as we’re in it, it’s fucked, it’s all fucked.”

You shake your head. “I may have hated her, but I still wanted to be her. To outdo her. Prove that I could’ve done it better, that change was possible, so she’d have no excuse. I couldn’t do either. Even if I had, it wouldn’t have mattered. I’d just be delaying Eris’ inevitable fate like she did.”

Your shoulders heave with each painful breath you take.

“Did she feel vindicated in the end? Think that by saving me once, it’d make up for all the times she didn’t?”

Whether you’re talking to him or yourself, you can’t tell anymore. It doesn’t make a difference. Speaking the truth aloud doesn’t make it any more or less real. It just leaves a bitter taste that’ll never go away.

“If she cared so much, why did she never tell me?” You whisper, your voice cracking. “What was she so afraid of…?”

What was I so afraid of?

Tears trickle down your face in a free flow. The drizzle shifts to a torrential downpour, no matter how hard you try shaking or shutting it off. There’s no point in telling him this. You’ll probably regret it, somewhere down the line.

You faintly register how your body moves without your input. Blinking the wetness in your eyelashes away as best as you can, you see gold patterns. There’s weight around your shoulders too. Weight and warmth. The scent of blood and anise.

He’s pulled you into an embrace against his chest.

You twist and jerk your limbs around, attempting to purchase freedom you can’t afford. You yell at him, curse him, beg him to let you go, and still, his grip never relents. He just holds you there, your struggles amounting to nothing, your pleas falling on deaf ears. His grip doesn’t feel tight until you try wriggling yourself out of it. Then, and only then, are you hit with the realization he could crush you so easily. It must take a great deal of self-restraint to avoid doing so.

The fight leaves your body and you tremble like a leaf in the wind.

His large hand runs over your back, slow and steady, as if his touch were destined to soothe rather than destroy.

Your well of tears runs dry eventually.

“When you live for others, you’ll die for them too.”

Blade’s statement doesn’t make you feel better or worse. It washes over you without soaking in. Whether it’s a warning for you or condemnation for yourself, you don’t know. Perhaps the two overlap in an unsightly hybrid.

Some time passes before he speaks again.

“The day that man drew his weapon on you, I felt something stir, as rousing from a long slumber,” Blade reveals. “I assumed it should remain undisturbed.”

This is your chance. You detach yourself from him enough to look him in the eyes. He loosens his grip just enough to allow this, but no more. The vice would tighten should you try extracting yourself further. You wipe away the moisture clinging to your lower eyelashes with your wrists. Since he’s sitting, he isn’t towering over you. This small detail aids your waning resolve.

“What made you assume that?”

His bandaged hand cups your tear-stained cheeks. You wince, but allow him his indulgence.

“Instinct,” he murmurs.

Your eyebrows pinch together as you think. That wasn’t what you were expecting. You guessed that’d it feel like something significant was missing — a gaping hole. That the individual would want to fill it. Curiosity is the sentient being’s natural state, after all. Especially since this should’ve been an element of itself the mind wishes to reinstitute. Yearning, affection, and care; even if it’s a vestige of the full experience, these positive emotions shouldn’t set off alarm bells.

Unless the mind decided it was worth suppressing.

Maybe your mother wasn’t using the influx of memories inflected on Blade as a ‘red herring.’ Kafka adores messing with you, she could’ve floated the idea because she knew you’d hear it in the future. What was your mother doing then? Pulling up key instances throughout Blade’s life, specifically those with heightened emotions and long-lasting influences…

What if it’s not so much altering memories, but altering the mind’s perception of them?

The Arbiter training software is bound to your movements, which allows it to manifest with a few hand gestures. The screen displays itself close to your right. You’d prefer to figure this out elsewhere, but Blade doesn’t appear interested in letting you go anytime soon. He silently observes as you pore over the generated psyche. You’re too focused to comment on how creepy he’s being.

Liliana Kokot. 34. Short-life species. Citizen of the planet Punklorde. Witnessed the murder of her parents at a young age. Came to despise gang activity. Joined police academy. Assigned to the Homicide Unit by age 25. Discovered possible connections between the police chief and organized crime.

You pull out the prismatic shard containing her parent’s murder.

The mind has mechanisms to inhibit trauma that’d otherwise obliterate it. Repression, denial, projection, displacement, rationalization, and regression to name a few. In the same way, prisms have multiple sides. The one which refracts the most light will change depending on how it’s angled.

You adjust the shard without changing its shape. Eventually, you find a side that deems this memory too much, beyond what Liliana can handle. It’s easily absorbed back alongside the other fragments. Except that now, the mind chooses to repress the memory, deep down in the subconscious where it cannot do irreparable harm.

A ‘seal.’

“I get it now,” you wave the screen off. “It’s similar to a heart transplant. Mechanical valves aren’t integrated as smoothly as tissue valves. The body’s more willing to accept what’s similar to it in composition, as is the mind.”

“You don’t look less troubled,” Blade notes.

You scrunch up your nose.

“I mean… this is— I don’t even know. It undermines what makes a person, well… who they are to the very core.”

“When you accepted Elio’s deal, you knew you’d be an accessory to criminal activity. How is that any worse than homicide?”

Blade’s refusal to sugarcoat the truth slashes through you like a phantasmal sword. Perhaps not a thousand times, but close enough.

“This is your price, lotus.”

You want to avert your gaze, but you don’t. It’d feel wrong, somehow. Cowardly. Hypocritical.

No longer can you dwell on the currency itself. What matters now is ensuring you pay your dues on time.

Your debt extends beyond Destiny’s Slave. There’s another proprietor you must settle with, for even the slightest peace of mind.

“Blade— no, Yingxing,” you correct yourself. His muscles stiffen, his true name having gone unspoken for so long devoid of contempt. “I may have made a deal with Elio, but… I haven’t personally made one with you. I’d like to change that.”

You can tell you’ve piqued his interest.

“I swear on everything that is sacred to me that I’ll remain by your side until my final breath. In return, regardless of if I’m alive or dead, you’ll never harm my home or the people who inhabit it. Intentionally or otherwise.”

His long, dark eyelashes flutter shut as he mulls over your proposal. He doesn’t take long. Soon enough, vermillion bores into you again. Candle wicks flicker inside them, alight with an emotion you refuse to name.

“How do you finalize deals, Miss Phaeales?” Blade asks, moving aside a stray strand of hair from your face.

It’s like the air’s been knocked from your lungs. He couldn’t have known, right? The ripples born when those two words are stitched together? Your chest feels tight and hollow all at once. It’s like your internal organs have liquified, leaving nothing but shapeless viscera. This isn’t the right voice. It should be softer, a tenor’s pitch, not a sonorous bass.

“M-Miss Phaeales?”

You blink away a fresh set of tears.

“A promise? Miss Phaeales, I don’t know if I can.”

“Hand me the dagger from before.”

“I don’t really get you, Miss Phaeales, but… I wanna.”

He does, after a moment’s consideration.

“It’s my fault, I should’ve killed that man, and now she’s in that criminal’s debt, because of me…!”

You prick your pointer finger with the dagger’s tip, just enough to create trickling blood.

“Everything you just said — I can tell you believe it.”

He mirrors your actions. His skin quickly mends itself back together.

“So why… why do you look so sad?”

I had so much to say, you think, bitterly. So, so much.

Blade’s bandaged hand falls to your lower back, where it softly pushes you forward. His gloved hand envelops your face, the leather refreshing against your feverish skin. His lips descend upon yours. You may have called the kiss tender had you known nothing about him. You do know him, however, as fate has decreed he’d get a better future at the cost of yours. It’s as if everyone was in on the joke, leaving you the odd one out.

He murmurs words in between kisses that you fight desperately to unhear.

When you pull back for air, you notice how madness surges and retreats in his eyes, as if it were ocean waves washing against the shore.

The likeness helps.

Pretending the red shade’s a brilliant blue instead comes easier.

The next time he kisses you, you cautiously kiss back.

A/N: i thought i'd feel satisfied when i finished nexus' last chapter, but i actually feel rather sad JTFSIKL i cannot overstate how much i enjoyed working on this story. it scratched a sci-fi itch i've had for over a decade now. when writing longer works, it's rare for me to not get caught on snags that sap my inspiration away. that never happened with this story though. from start to finish, i was contentedly tip tapping away on my keyboard.

i became enamored with this idea of a yandere story that didn't just revolve around the MC and yan, it just wasn't until i started outlining nexus that i had an excuse to explore this concept further.

the main cast of n darling, nona, and lear (an anon affectionately dubbed them the lotus trio, which is a term i loved enough to hijack) has become close to my heart. for that reason, writing this chapter physically hurt at times 😭 i wanted to swat blade away like a fly and have everything end nicely. from the very first sentence though, i knew this would be a tragedy, so it'd go against the Themes to pull a power of friendship ending.

at first, i worried about the reader's ability to empathize/connect with n darling, since her status and abilities aren't universal. like at all. the solution presented itself rather naturally. n darling, at least to me, stresses that simmering anger women feel the need to hide for professionality's sake. her experiences as a child where she's given responsibilities beyond her age's capacity, then in adulthood, where she isn't taken seriously (chrysus) or unintentionally infantilized (caicias). i'm sure many afab individuals can relate to some extent.

my primary interest was in having these two deeply frustrated individuals crash together and spill debris everywhere. i was given a little more liberty with blade's actions and dialogue, due to miss phaeales' id inducing presence, which drew out more than he'd normally give. as for blade's characterization, if he isn't in the throes of mara madness, i really can't see him being a hellion 24/7. he feels more somber to me when lucid.

of course, that changes if the right buttons are pressed... but that isn't exclusive to him.

since the final chapter is divided into three main scenes, i wanted to fully explore the three predominant ways i picture a yandere version of blade acting. the first is his guilt and shame, the second, his mara-induced sadism, and the third, a more neutral self where reason prevails.

i hope that you enjoyed reading nexus as much as i enjoyed writing it!! although the main storyline is finished, i'm by no means done with the universe as a whole. i'm planning a little epilogue for starters. then maybe some side stories from blade's perspective ?? who knows, the motivation's still there, so anything is possible.

thank you again 💖

-sincerely, lock.

Tag list: @99-nct @pixiestixes (idk why the tag thingy won't work but an effort was made) ...

#blade x reader #yandere blade x reader #honkai star rail x reader #yandere honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #yandere hsr x reader #yandere #yandere x reader #nexus #my stuff

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sl-newsie · 2 months

Text

Melted Mind (Dr. Spencer Reid x OC Coworker)

Summary: The team checks into a hotel and one of their coworkers has never used a sauna, leading to late night shenanigans. (Hinting at intimacy towards the end)

“You’ve never used a sauna?”

I’ve had a lot of strange and unusual conversations with the BAU but this has got to be a very random one. I guess one half-mention of never having used a sauna seems to be the hot topic of tonight.

I shake my head at Emily’s question. “Never had a reason to. I can’t stand being too hot.”

Of course now Spencer has to hop in and give his input. “Saunas actually help us sweat toxins out of our bodies and improve lymphatic drainage. They also reduce stress levels and help strengthen the immune system.”

I love him dearly but he can come in at the worst times. Just because he’s my boyfriend does not mean he can drag me into this too.

Meanwhile Emily is looking at the hotel’s brochure. “There’s one in the pool room. We should try it.”

Um, no. We’ve just spent three hours flying. I feel no need to sit in a boiling hot room with my coworkers.

Quick, grab the suitcase and start walking away. “I think I’m going to relax in my room-”

Morgan grabs my arm. “C’mon, it’ll be fun!”

In the corner of my eye I see JJ and Penelope waving goodbye with cheeky smiles. Hotch has already gone to his room and Rossi avoids the situation by heading for the bar. There’s no getting out of this.

There’s no other way to say it. This is Hell. I won’t sugarcoat it.

I don’t care how Emily tries to sell this as a good thing because it’s a ‘steam sauna.’ Spencer’s facts from earlier have completely flown the coop because thinking about the positive health benefits of sweating is the last thing on my mind. All I can think of is drinking water and staying alive.

“I’m melting.” We’ve been here for half an hour and I’m already slumped in the corner.

“You look like a lava lamp."

My glare can burn through walls. “Thanks, Morgan.”

“That swimsuit is really cute,” Emily comments. “But why wear a shirt over it?”

The suit I packed is my patriotic one. A one-piece suit with blue and white stars at the top cascading into red and white stripes. When we met up in the hall I threw on a swim shirt and I guess that raised a few eyebrows. Why? I don’t know.

“Some call it image paranoia, I call it modesty. I will not walk around half-naked in a hotel lobby.” Technically my onepiece could count as a leotard but it’s still not modest.

Emily snickers. “Between you and Reid both you guys could give a lecture on social etiquette.”

“I’m giving a lecture?”

Reid pokes his head in and a wave of cold air washes over me. It’s Heaven! But it’s only a split second because he closes the door and I’m submerged in the moist prison once more. He hops up on the seat next to me and from the look he gives me I can tell he’s looking to see if I’m still alive. I think I am. Maybe.

“Here’s the boy genius!” Morgan claps and gestures to my limp body’s presentation of a corpse. “What do you think of this lovely swimsuit?”

Why? Why did Morgan of all people have to find out about us? I’m honestly surprised Penelope didn’t find out first. If only Spencer didn’t want a picture of me on his desk so badly. Ever since we became official he’s been much more manly about it. Like he wants to make sure everyone knows I’m his. It’s actually cute.

Spencer gives me a look-over. “Very patriotic. It looks nice.”

Those eyes say more than that. He loves it.

“Thank you. I’m lucky I brought it with me. Though this may be what I’m buried in if I don’t make it through tonight. This sauna’s going to be the death of me.”

So the night goes on. My mind dwindles in and out of the conversation but the only thing keeping me awake is Spencer’s occasional squeeze on my shoulder. Though him rubbing my back is definitely not helping. After a while my mind starts to wander.

“Ever notice how radio stations play the same songs over and over?”

The chatter stops and in the corner of my glazed eye I see everyone look at me.

“That’s kinda deep,” Morgan teases.

“I can’t help it. This sauna’s making me think deep.”

Emily waves a hand in front of me. “Ok, I think it’s time to call it a night. You need to drink some water. Make sure she gets to bed safely, Reid.”

Reid gives me a hidden smirk. He’s definitely thinking about that out of context. Thankfully the others are too tired to notice and we all slowly exit the human vegetable steamer from Hell.

“I’ll go get you a towel,” Reid says before walking off.

I’ll finally get to go to my room, rinse off and relax- Uh-oh. I catch a quick glance out the window. A pair of blue sunglasses lies on a patio lawn chair. No one’s outside. I guess I should do the Girl Scout routine of returning them to the lobby desk.

Brr! How is the air outside so cold? The sauna must have really gotten to me. Back inside now- Oh no. Is it my wandering mind or am I locked out? No. No! I don’t have a key card!

Inside Spencer walks around the pool looking for me. The towel he’s carrying might as well be a fur coat.

“Oh- Spencer! Help!” I knock on the glass door. “Please! I’m locked out!”

Reid’s eyes widen and he strides over. “How did you get stuck out there?”

“Someone left their sunglasses out here and I didn’t think about needing a key card to get back inside. Could you let me in?”

He starts reaching for the door but then gets an amused smirk. “Hmm. I don’t know…”

Is he kidding? “Spencer! Please! It’s freezing out here!”

Reid checks the thermostat. “It’s only 65 degrees.”

“I just came out of a sauna! Do you want me to pass out?” I put my hands on my hips.

Spencer’s laughter is muffled by the glass but he turns the doorknob anyway. “Open sesame.”

I sigh in relief at the warm air. “Thank you- oh!”

My temperature spikes the instant Spencer’s lips are on mine. He backs me against the cold condensation-covered door and pulls me close to him. I hope no one’s looking!

“It was hard not to do that in front of the team, seeing you in this suit.” Spencer presses a kiss on my cheek. “It looks very nice.”

If I weren’t so exhausted I’d encourage this. “Ready to go to bed? I’m getting tired.”

“Me too.” Reid wraps the towel around my shaking shoulders and we start walking back. “Would you like me to rub your back?”

“I’d love that very much, Spencer.”

The sight of our hotel room is equivalent to scoring an A+. I speed-wash through the shower and all but dive onto the soft bed. I lift my sleepy head up to look at Spencer, who’s sitting in the lounge chair staring at me.

“What?”

“You know my attraction to you didn’t start from your body,” he murmurs, still looking at me as if examining a piece of art.

I smile shyly and look down. “It was my eyes.”

He walks over and kneels down to my level. “It was your eyes. Those eyes that show a deep wisdom but are always wide with excited curiosity.”

Spencer crawls up onto the bed and rests his head on my chest. “Still tired? I can feel your heart rate elevating-”

“Let me pause the lecture, professor.” I put a finger to his lips. “It’s time to sleep. You can resume tomorrow.”

He sighs but gives in to his own tired state by going limp. I’m too tired to push him off.

“You were right, Spencer. Saunas really do reduce stress levels. Even if I was almost locked out.”

He smiles with his eyes closed and feels around for the bedside light switch. “Goodnight, angel.”

The room goes dark and I give him one last kiss. “Goodnight, genius.”

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rjzimmerman · 2 months

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Opinion |Joe Biden: My plan to reform the Supreme Court and ensure no president is above the law. (Washington Post)

This nation was founded on a simple yet profound principle: No one is above the law. Not the president of the United States. Not a justice on the Supreme Court of the United States. No one.

But the Supreme Court’s 6-3 decision on July 1 to grant presidents broad immunity from prosecution for crimes they commit in office means there are virtually no limits on what a president can do. The only limits will be those that are self-imposed by the person occupying the Oval Office.

If a future president incites a violent mob to storm the Capitol and stop the peaceful transfer of power — like we saw on Jan. 6, 2021 — there may be no legal consequences.

And that’s only the beginning.

On top of dangerous and extreme decisions that overturn settled legal precedents — including Roe v. Wade — the court is mired in a crisis of ethics. Scandals involving several justices have caused the public to question the court’s fairness and independence, which are essential to faithfully carrying out its mission of equal justice under the law. For example, undisclosed gifts to justices from individuals with interests in cases before the court, as well as conflicts of interest connected with Jan. 6 insurrectionists, raise legitimate questions about the court’s impartiality.

I served as a U.S. senator for 36 years, including as chairman and ranking member of the Judiciary Committee. I have overseen more Supreme Court nominations as senator, vice president and president than anyone living today. I have great respect for our institutions and the separation of powers.

What is happening now is not normal, and it undermines the public’s confidence in the court’s decisions, including those impacting personal freedoms. We now stand in a breach.

That’s why — in the face of increasing threats to America’s democratic institutions — I am calling for three bold reforms to restore trust and accountability to the court and our democracy.

First, I am calling for a constitutional amendment called the No One Is Above the Law Amendment. It would make clear that there is no immunity for crimes a former president committed while in office. I share our Founders’ belief that the president’s power is limited, not absolute. We are a nation of laws — not of kings or dictators.

Second, we have had term limits for presidents for nearly 75 years. We should have the same for Supreme Court justices. The United States is the only major constitutional democracy that gives lifetime seats to its high court. Term limits would help ensure that the court’s membership changes with some regularity. That would make timing for court nominations more predictable and less arbitrary. It would reduce the chance that any single presidency radically alters the makeup of the court for generations to come. I support a system in which the president would appoint a justice every two years to spend 18 years in active service on the Supreme Court.

Third, I’m calling for a binding code of conduct for the Supreme Court. This is common sense. The court’s current voluntary ethics code is weak and self-enforced. Justices should be required to disclose gifts, refrain from public political activity and recuse themselves from cases in which they or their spouses have financial or other conflicts of interest. Every other federal judge is bound by an enforceable code of conduct, and there is no reason for the Supreme Court to be exempt.

All three of these reforms are supported by a majority of Americans— as well as conservative and liberal constitutional scholars. And I want to thank the bipartisan Presidential Commission on the Supreme Court of the United States for its insightful analysis, which informed some of these proposals.

We can and must prevent the abuse of presidential power. We can and must restore the public’s faith in the Supreme Court. We can and must strengthen the guardrails of democracy.

In America, no one is above the law. In America, the people rule.

#President Biden #US Supreme Court

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animeyanderelover · 2 years

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I’m currently in Europe so I’m awake for once when requests are open!

May I request how Ciel, Sebastian, and Reiji Sakamaki’s would treat a s/o who’s body is really fragile (they bruise easily, have fragile bones, etc.). Thank you very much! 💖

I actually planned a little special for my 6k celebration but I’m still so loaded with requests that I think that I’ll have to cancel that and do it a bit later😵‍💫.

Tw: Yandere themes, unhealthy mindset, unhealthy relationship, possessive behavior, obsession, overprotective behavior, abduction

S/o with a very fragile body

Ciel Phantomhive

☕️Ciel’s condition was of a rather delicate status during his early childhood days too. His asthma used to be quite bad, there were days where he couldn’t leave the house or his room. So despite his strict and sometimes apathetic attitude he can understand his darling’s frustration and anger regarding the hindrance that is their body. Unable to do so many things simply because it’ll only result in large and painful bruises or even a few broken bones. Whilst the Phantomhive heir bears more sympathy for you though, that doesn’t mean by a long shot that he’ll let you risk anything. He’s overprotective and his paranoia worsens because of your risky condition. He probably feels the constant need to know where you are and if he’s in the mansion, he wants you in his field of vision.

☕️A doctor is constantly checking on your condition and is always kept close in case something should happen. He’ll also force you to consume medicine and vitamins to strengthen your immune system and overall condition. Ciel will also be really pissed if one of his clumsy servants accidentally hurts you. He holds them dear somewhere in his heart, knows that all of them are primarily here for their skills to kill and protect him. That all doesn’t stop him from lashing out on them if their chaotic antics hurt you, especially because of your delicate body. He argues heavily with you when you insist to do something which he knows your body won’t handle and at one point just snaps, slight paranoia shining through.

☕️He feels sorry afterwards but knows that he’s in the right. Ciel tries to be softer and more spoiling to you in other areas as a sort of attempt to distract you from the sadness of the inability of your own body. Your room is designed to be comfy and cozy with minimal risk of you hurting yourself. There are events where you two do go out but you’re never allowed to stray away from him as he keeps an eye on your condition sharply. When he catches yet another bruise on your body, he will end up interrogating you how and where you got it. The whole mansion is over time (y/n)-proofed for you only to decrease chances of you hurting yourself. He treats you like glass at most times.

Sebastian Michaelis

🐈‍⬛It’s pure and unaltered overprotective instincts speaking out of the demon because his human mate is such a delicate thing. He feels the constant need to be around you to protect you from everything that could even bruise your skin or hurt and damage you even the slightest bit. When he catches a good glimpse of your bruises and scratches the first time, you swear that you hear a low growl rumbling deep inside his chest. He still has a contract with his master but at times he seems slightly tense, subtle glances outside and at the clock. As soon as the demon is free to go, he’s rushing to you to check on you. It isn’t very often that he’s ever made a great fuss about someone but he does exactly that when he’s with you.

🐈‍⬛The demon becomes essentially your doctor who bandages every little injury and makes ointment himself to help the bruises you have. He is able to sense your disappointment and sadness because your body holds you back from doing the most basic things but Sebastian is firm in his decision to minimize the risk of you hurting yourself. Whether you like it or not, you’re his mate and he can’t let you risk your health. Sebastian keeps you fairly isolated and to himself as he’s coddling over your fragile condition. He could almost enjoy this in a way, him as your sole caretaker, if it wouldn’t be for the constant injuries. It isn’t normal nor healthy which only makes him more protective, worried for your wellbeing. He’d like to call himself patient but it’s likely he’s tempted to kidnap you faster because of your weak physical body.

🐈‍⬛He’s clingy, barely leaves you alone when he’s with you and is staring at you just to ensure that nothing happens. Your sadness doesn’t fly over his head though as he tries to entertain you otherwise. He gets you books, reads to you, if you enjoy music he’ll play something for you. The demon himself is more careful with his own physical affection simply because he knows that you can’t handle much. Normally he’d love to bruise you with bites and kisses but he has to hold back as you are unable to endure that. He still needs some skin-ship so he often holds you softly in his arms. He’s quite aggressive if someone accidentally hurts you, even if just by accidents since his overprotective instincts just ring loudly the moment you get harmed.

Reiji Sakamaki

☕️Reiji is the worst one in here which is essentially boiled down to two main reasons. The first one is that he’s such a perfectionist and has high expectations on his s/o. Surely they’re special because otherwise he wouldn’t have gotten obsessed with them. Their frail body is such a big thorn in his eyes though and he’s not one to hide his obvious displeasure because of it. Especially in the beginning he openly shows his dissatisfaction and it makes you feel down because you know that he’s blaming you too for not having done more to fix your body. The vampire dedicates his time into brewing together medicine to increase your physical health and you’re forced to consume it daily.

☕️He even watches you just to make sure that you really take it. You’re on a strict schedule as it is. A healthy diet, physical workouts to slowly strengthen your bones and the time where you go to bed and get enough rest. Reiji is a controlling individual and wants his partner to be perfect in every aspect. Another big problem is that Reiji is a sadist and will punish his s/o if they misbehave. He’s not as dumb and impulsive as to let that get the better of him if he’s confronted with your weak body. If he goes too harsh, chances are that he will cause you permanent damage and he does not wish to be responsible if he ruins you. He will still lecture and teach you better if you behave like an ungrateful brat. You should thank him for even bothering with a helpless case like you.

☕️He’s huge in degrading you for your condition and making you feel like you’re a burden because of it. Harshly sucking your blood so that it hurts is also always an option although he makes sure that you always consume enough nutrition to ensure a healthy blood flow. You end up with large bruises on your neck and shoulder though whenever he does this. Examines your body all the time for new bruises and is always questioning you sternly when he sees a new one. All your clothes are covering you up completely to hide all the bruises because he doesn’t want his brothers to look and make unnecessary comments. He is more lovely when he softens up, treats you nicer and far more delicate, indulges in little wishes of yours as he stops blaming you for your fragile body.

#yandere black butler #yandere kuroshitsuji #yandere ciel #yandere ciel phantomhive #yandere sebastian #yandere sebastian michaelis #yandere diabolik lovers #yandere reiji #yandere reiji sakamaki

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s1cklyb0nes · 1 month

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Tea Benefits!!

None of these benefits are guaranteed since everyone's body is different, these are based off research and experience.

I'll add more as I do more research :3

>Peppermint tea

Peppermint tea helps with digestion and is one of my favorites because of that! The peppermint acts as an antispasmodic that helps relax muscles in your stomach aiding digestion and helping break down f4t. Antioxidants in peppermint tea also help with cardiovascular and metabolic health. I have also experienced appetite suppression from drinking this tea!

>Green tea

A VERY popular tea for many reasons. Green tea has lots of antioxidants including polyphenols, which help with gut health, cardiovascular health, bone health, strengthening your immune system, improving your skin, and more. Drinking this tea also helps improve blood sugar levels. Green tea can also help suppress your appetite.

>Chamomile tea

Another one of my favorites, its main use is to aid sleep but it helps with much more than just that! Along with relaxing the body, chamomile tea may also help ease anxiety and stress. Chamomile tea can also help indigestion, constipation, and more. This tea may also act as an appetite suppressant and boost your metabolism.

>Black tea

May help indigestion and constipation. Improves metabolism. Also a good alternative to coffee as it provides energy without crashing later in the day. Black tea can act as a detox, the antioxidants in it helping remove toxins from the body.

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blackypanther9 · 10 months

Text

How to turn a Killer into a Bunny – (FNaF Movie)William Afton x Male!Reader

WARNING!: Cursing !!!

Part 2 – Aunt Jane

They got home after Mike and M/n were shopping for a bit of food and drinks. Michael didn’t have much anymore and really had to watch the price tags. Max told him that food was still left over and warm and that Abby didn’t eat yet, which Mike decided to take care of.

After a while he came back out, utterly defeated.

“She still refused ?”, M/n asked.

“She keeps talking about her imaginary friends...”, Mike sighed out and sat down on the couch.

“I should probably leave.”, Max said.

“No, no. The three of us have to discuss something before you leave, Max, but first, let me try to convince Abby to eat...”, M/n said and left.

“Good luck.”, Mike called after him.

M/n entered Abby’s room soon enough and looked over her shoulder at the drawing, she was working on.

“I don’t want to eat right now.”, she informed M/n.

“Abby, please eat now. Your drawing isn’t going to run away from you, but your food will get cold and then it will taste bad.”, M/n told her softly.

“We can make new food.”

“Abby...we can’t.”

“What do you mean ?”, Abby asked.

“Oh dear, how do I explain this... Mikey lost his job and with that you don’t get any money right now. It means you are unable to get more food and drinks, like stuff to draw on. Mikey and I are looking for another job for him already, right now, but until then, PLEASE just eat when you are told to eat, yes ? You worry Mikey and me with your habit to starve until you are done drawing.”

Abby looked at her drawing, then at M/n and then at her bed. She seemed like she listened to someone talking. Then she looked at M/n again.

“My friend said that Mike is stupid. He said that if kids don’t eat properly, they will stop growing.”, Abby told M/n.

M/n looked at her and frowned.

“But that is true. If you don’t eat and sleep properly until a certain age, you stop growing sooner and stay small for the rest of your life.”

“How is that possible ? That sounds stupid.”, Abby asked.

“Well, I mean when you are older, you will learn about that in school, but food and sleep are very important to our bodies and our systems. Our immune System gets strengthened when we eat Vegetables and fruit and bread and when we get sick our immune System develops, to deal with it better next time. Our body grows thanks to sleep and the food, we consume. Healthy food. It has a lot of protein, Vitamins and minerals.”

“And how is that getting into our body ?”, she asked confused.

She got up and M/n walked with her to the living room.

“Hm, well, what we drink and eat comes out of us too. That is why we go to the bathroom and need to take daily dumps.”

“Eww...”, she said grossed out.

“It is all natural. Every living being does that. Our digesting System does the rest for us, I suppose. It pulls out all the important minerals, vitamins and protein it needs and then another part of our body works it over and it ends up in our blood, while the unnecessary stuff, gets washed out of us and into the toilet. So a lot of it does our stomach.”

“What if I don’t drink enough ?”, she asked.

“You will get thirsty and your thirst will be too much for your stomach to handle. Your throat will scream endlessly for water, while your stomach begs you to stop, that is why Mike tells you to drink enough and why he tells you that you didn’t drink enough at certain days. Our body is mostly made out of water and our organs need a lot of it too. And when you are sick and drink a lot, there is a high possibility that you get healthy quickly, with a lot of resting, of course.”

“Why even is our body tired, when we are sick ?”

M/n grabbed a plate and put the Macaroni and Cheese on it, not all of it, but enough for Abby to eat. Mike needed food too. While he piled the plate he explained.

“Because it focuses all its energy against the thing that harms us. A disease is always a small virus and our immune System is there to destroy it as fast as possible, with that it focuses all your energy on healing and getting better, that’s why you are always so tired after. The disease you have, that the body fights off, can only leave, when you wash your body out, in other words, drink a lot and sleep and go to the bathroom. Fresh air and a bit of movement is also very good when you are sick, with that you strengthen your body to be stronger next time you are sick.”

Then he gave her the plate and they sat down on the couch. Mike stared at M/n impressed. When M/n talks about something, even the most boring thing, he can make it sound very interesting.

“Huh...”, Abby replied.

“Our body is full of wonders. Kids your age still need nap times and a lot of sleep, to get stronger and to grow properly, that is why Mike and the other adults are so mean to you and tell you what to do. And no, in fast food is nothing healthy for your body. Some bit of salad is not enough. Too much meat is bad, too much sweets is bad, too much fried things is bad. You need everything balanced, for your body. I am not saying that eating any of it is harmful, but too much of it, will harm you. Too much sweets, you will suffer with stomach aches, too much eggs, same thing and you will fart a lot.”

“Eww !”, she giggled out.

M/n chuckled and looked at her with a small smile.

“Everything needs to be balanced, Abby, dear. Otherwise, everything comes crashing down on you one day and then you will regret a lot, but can’t do anything to change it anymore.”

She was quiet at that and looked at M/n.

“From where do you know all of this ?”, she asked.

M/n chuckled.

“My Mother was quite small. She was short, a head shorter than an average sized woman was, her hands were small, her fingers short and her feet the same. She forced me to eat healthily. Three to four times a day and a lot of fruits and vegetables and she forced me to sleep a lot. I hated her as a child for it, until she explained to me one day why she did it. She rebelled against her parents too, when she was my age and...that was the outcome for her. She was small, weak and she hated her feet and hands. She always called them Baby hands and baby feet, because they were so small. When she properly slept and ate, she had quick growing spurts, but as she rebelled...she stopped growing and she regretted it deeply, that’s why she forced me. That’s why Mike wants you to listen and do as you are told. So you won’t end up like that.”

Everyone stared and he had a wobbly smile on his face, silent tears running down his face.

“She couldn’t even change a light bulb that was over her head, because she was too short, always needed a ladder.”, he got out with a voice, thick with emotion.

The three stared at him.

“I was gone for only two days and I saw her dead on the stairs with that cursed ladder fallen over and the light bulb shattered on the floor.”, he sobbed out.

At that all six eyes were ripped wide open. That’s how his Mother died three years ago ! The ladder fell over with her on top, she fell and hit the stairs, breaking her neck in the process.

“Oh god...M/n...”, Mike got out and hugged him from the side.

Max took the other and stroked his hair, while he sobbed. Abby left her food alone and got on M/n’s lap, hugging him from the front tightly. He hugged her back, while he calmed down. No need to start wailing again like a three year old. For fucks sake he was 25 years old !

“I don’t want the same to happen to you, Abby. One day you will be all grown up and you will want to be independent from Mike and me. How are you supposed to, if you are too small to reach anything alone ? One day Mike might not even be there anymore, for you and what then ? Who will help you ?”, M/n asked, voice emotional, but not hiccupping.

“I understand, M/n. I will...listen more to Mike...”, Abby replied.

“But only about sleep and eating, right ?”, he sniffed out a joke.

She giggled and nodded.

“Only on that.”, she confirmed.

“Eh, at least something, Abbs.”, Mike replied with a smile in his voice.

Then they parted and Abby continued to eat.

“So what did we need to talk about ?”, Max asked.

“Mike has his eyes on a certain job. But he can only get the Nightshift. Do you think you can babysit at night ?”, M/n asked softly.

She looked at Mike at that.

“Really ?”, she asked surprised.

“Yes. I would take the job, but I wanted you to have time to either accept or decline babysitting.”, Michael replied.

“Let me think about it for a bit.”, Max replied softly.

“Okay.”, Mike replied.

With that Max took her stuff and left. M/n waited for a while and then scoffed.

“I still don’t trust her.”

“M/n-“

“Mike she is acting fishy.”, M/n interrupted him, before he could defend Max again.

He sighed and leaned back. M/n rubbed his eyes and then got up.

“Eat something Mike. I will drive home now and we will see each other tomorrow, okay ?”, M/n asked.

Michael nodded.

“Be careful on your way home, yeah ?”

“I will be.”

With that M/n left and drove home in his own car.

-The next day-

Abby was drawing outside of the building Mike and M/n were in. The Social Services department, a woman always talks with Abby and the woman then talks to both Mike and Jane about it all.

“Just look at my Nephew. It is barely 10:00 and he can barely keep his eyes open.”, Jane said.

M/n turned to her.

“He didn’t sleep well tonight, so what ? As if you always get out of bed full with energy, woman.”, he argued back and stuck his tongue out at her.

“You keep your nose out of this.”, she said back.

“You aren’t my Mother, so you have to suck it up. How long and how often do you wanna pull the same show now ? You aren’t gonna get what you want, like always. Why do you still bother ?”

“After what this man did to that poor family Father, I am thinking mostly of Abby now.”

“If the child would have been kidnapped, like Mike thought, by the way the man DRAGGED and TORE the kid away, and he wouldn’t have done anything, you would sit here now and say ‘THAT POOR CHILD, LOOK HOW IRRISPONSIBLE HE IS.’. So how about you shut up ? It was a misunderstanding and Mike already got scolded, it’s not like he killed someone. It looked like the kid was about to get kidnapped, Mike misunderstood the situation and jumped in to protect a defenseless kid. My god, such things happen some times. You make a big show out of this. We all know Mike is not abusive to Abby.”

Jane scoffed and then had a scowl on her face, directed at M/n.

“As if you would know.”, she snapped at him.

“I do know so in fact. I am there every day. I watch Mike the whole time. I KNOW what is happening in that house and I have a recording of how the kid got DRAGGED by his so called Father. I have all the evidence I need. Where is yours, that Mike is abusive and bad for Abby ? He takes any job he can get and works his ass off for her and himself. Yes, he is tired, but he has more problems than your primadonna girl ass. Keyword: BILLS. Wow ! Ever heard of BILLS ? Cool, now shut up and stop annoying us.”

She glared at him and then at the woman worker.

“Look at the disrespect he has towards his elders.”, she accused.

“MY elders ? Woman, you act like a 12 year old, each time we are here. You put up a drama show and then expect to get what you want. We KNOW that you fake it. Stop being so fake and be an actual aunt that LOVES and CHERISHES BOTH of her Sister’s children, the only Family, by the way, that you still HAVE, you single, old fossil !”

She stared at M/n with an agape mouth.

“Honestly that is all you do, make a scene from the smallest things and then try to make everyone believe that Mike is the bad guy, no matter what he does, no matter how hard he tries. You want me to respect my elders, then you should respect YOUR younger generation first. They are, quite literally, YOUR future. You already made Mike not like you and Abby isn’t fond of you either, so maybe accept defeat, take the last few remains of dignity that you still have left and leave them both alone.”

“You bratty little-“

“You are the brat here, woman. Both of them want NOTHING to do with you and you just CAN’T leave them both be. You want to rip siblings apart for a stupid paycheck ! How stupid do you think we are ?!”, M/n yelled at her now.

Jane put a hand on her chest.

“How can you say something like that ?”, she said offended.

“Woman, I know how you tick ! We all know that you are faking it ! God...just why the heck do you think NOBODY likes you ?!”

“I think we should all calm down now.”, the social services worker said softly.

M/n took a deep breath and looked at her, away from Jane.

“I’m terribly sorry that she gets on my nerves. This outburst won’t happen again.”, M/n said, calm again.

“It is quite alright, M/n. You just said, what you felt. That is healthy.”

“Just like a child drawing all the time and seeing magical creatures that don’t even exist ?!”, Jane yelled.

M/n’s glare hardened and he was close to snap again. He took a deep breath and then looked at that annoying Bitch again, wishing her a brutal death already in his head.

“Abby is a child and children have a wild imagination. She is an active child and it is completely normal for her. She will grow out of it.”

Jane scoffed and gave him a nasty smirk.

“Like you did ? You still talk to yourself.”, she snapped back.

M/n’s glare intensified.

“Only when I am frustrated and usually I talk to objects then. Like when I am angry and my pen falls from the desk, then I say: ‘Of course, fall down, not like I need you Bitch, I have other pens too.’ And grab then another one. It is entirely normal.”

She laughed without humor.

“As if !”

“It is called letting steam off. Now shut up and leave me alone.”, M/n replied with a smirk and turned to Mike, who was just hoping that this meeting will be over soon.

“This is ridiculous... Abby needs to get away from them, this has been going on for long enough. Doug.”

Her lawyer didn’t react.

“Doug !”, she called.

He snapped out of it and gave Mike a pile of papers, on the front stood “Family Court Matter”. M/n wanted to laugh and planned her death, even though, he knew that he can’t kill her. He was no murderer, nor did he have the skills to be one.

“This is the only right thing to do and deep in your heart you know it too, Mike. You are unfit to raise a child.”, Jane said.

“And what if I don’t sign them ?”, Mike asked.

“Then me and my lawyer will drag you to court and they will take care that you will see your Sister never again. Do you want that ?”

Mike looked at the paper. M/n leaned over to his ear.

“I will find a way to get her to lose, don’t worry about it, Mikey.”

He looked at his friend and just nodded softly, then Jane and Doug left and Mike, M/n and the social services worker went to the hall, watching Abby from a window, while they talked.

“She just wants the monthly paycheck, this is not about Abby.”, Mike said.

“Of course it is not. She could take care of the both of you, she is your aunt too, but she refuses. She is very fixed on Abby and taking her away, no matter what, doesn’t matter if Abby said a million times already that she hates her. Any normal thinking person would have left you and Abby alone after that. If it would be about Abby, she would respect her wishes, which, spoiler alert: she doesn’t.”, M/n replied annoyed.

The woman looked at them and they chatted for a while longer. That Mike was important to Abby, that drawings are very important to children and that she definitely loves him the most, which made M/n smile.

“See ? Your Sister loves you in her own special way.”, M/n chuckled out.

“Yeah. But my aunt is right...no one would let me keep my Sister.”, Mike stated saddened.

“Did you already find a new job ?”, the woman asked.

He looked at her and was hesitant.

“He had one offered, but the Babysitter needs to give a reply, so we can arrange everything, before he takes the job.”, M/n answered for him.

She looked at M/n and nodded with a smile.

“It always gives you extra points, if you have a job.”, she told them and then sent them off, wishing them a great day.

Then they grabbed Abby and drove home. As they parked at their home, Mike received a call from Max and he picked it up.

“Hey, have you decided yet ?”, Mike asked.

There was silence for a second, then a relieved sigh.

“Thank you so much, Max. Yes, yes. I promise, as soon as I can, I will repay you.”, Mike replied and then hung up.

“So I’m guessing she will watch Abby at nights.”, M/n concluded.

“Yes, she will.”

#male!reader #fanfiction #fnaf #Five Nights at Freddy's Movie #FNaF Movie #Steve Raglan/William Afton #Steve Raglan x Reader #William Afton x Reader #purple guy #Part 2 – Aunt Jane #How to turn a Killer into a Bunny – (FNaF Movie)William Afton x Male!Reader #michael schmidt

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flowerishness · 11 months

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Camellia sasanqua

One of my friends is in hospital. He's on the tenth floor. Visiting a sick friend can be a dreary business but at least this Camellia, blooming in late October, is a cheerful sight. A tea made from the leaves of this Camellia has long been used in Japanese herbal medicine to strengthen the immune system. It's only appropriate that this plant should be growing in front of a hospital.

#flowers #photographers on tumblr #camellia #October #Vancouver General Hospital #fleurs #flores #fiori #blumen #bloemen #vancouver

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drabblesandimagines · 1 year

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Kitty (part 9)

Parts 1-8 here. Rei x (afab) reader, usual fluff but also... Warnings: Implied gun violence, kidnapping, blood, panic attacks

This chapter is suuuper long, so buckle up! --

Kazuki and Rei get assigned some reconnaissance work from Kyu that takes place over the weekend and into the early week. You reassure the blonde you’re perfectly happy to watch over Miri whilst they’re out, keeping her entertained and fed as they spend the next three days on the job. They’re up early and back late, but Rei sends you sweet text messages to check in whenever he can.

It’s now early Tuesday afternoon – Kazuki dropped off the information to Kyu this morning, and you’re working on the breakfast and lunch dishes with Kazuki. Rei is tackling the folding of the laundry, though Kazuki is keeping a close eye.

As you dip a pan in the hot, soapy water, a sharp pain shoots through your head and you let go, instinctively rubbing the side of your head when you flinch – it’s the telltale beginning of a headache.

“You okay there, Kitty?” Kazuki questions, a cloth in hand as he dries. You nod your head, continuing the therapeutic scrubbing of the pans but he’s leaning forward now, trying to get a good look at you. “You’re looking a little flush.”

The back of his hand is suddenly pressed on your forehead. “Huh, you’re feeling a little bit warm too.”

“A fever?” Rei questions over his shoulder.

You shake your head, “No, I f-feel okay,” but another pain twinges through your head, ruining your performance. The two men stare at you. “OK, maybe m-my head hurts a l-little, b-but it’s f-fine.”

Kazuki side-steps between you and the sink now and hands you a cloth to dry off your hands. “Go sit down. I’ll get the thermometer.”

You nod, walking around the counter to go sit on the couch, unsure why but it’s obvious that Kazuki isn’t going to let you bluff your way out of it. You’d always worked through illnesses in the past, he was hardly going to give you a day off.

Moments later, Kazuki is kneeling down in front of you, asking you to stick the thermometer under your tongue. There’s a beep and he muses over the results, Rei hovering over his shoulder. “Temperature’s running a little high, but only a little. I still think it’s the beginning of a fever. It must be something from daycare, Ms Anna warned there was something going around.”

“Should we go to hospital?”

Kazuki smiles at his room-mate’s concern. “It’s just a bug, no need for that.” The blonde gets to his feet, clearing a path in front of you. “Go on, to bed with you. I’ll send Rei up with some medication in a minute, okay?”

“B-bed?”

“Yep – you need to rest. Go on.”

“B-but I can finish the d-dishes first…” You frowned at the counter.

“You’re sick.” Kazuki stressed. “Pyjamas on, in bed, rest.”

“Go on, Kitty. I can do them.” Rei nods, hoping that might encourage you to listen.

“Okay. Just f-for a b-bit.” You hold the railing as you go up the stairs, knowing that every step is being scrutinized.

By the time you’ve changed into your pyjamas – an activity that seems to make you feel more warm than anything else – and got in the bed, Rei arrives with a tray in hand, balancing a glass, pitcher of water and a box of medication, looking concerned. “Kazuki says to take two of these – that’ll it help with the temperature and the headache.” He places it down on the bedside table before removing the tablets from the box, popping out two and holding them out to you.

You’d be skeptical of taking them if it wasn’t Rei offering them to you. You pop them in your mouth and wash them down with water, leaning back into the pillows.

“I r-really don’t f-feel that bad…”

When Rei was young and sick, Boss made him run. Sweat it out, boy. All he’d wanted to do was sleep, but he wasn’t permitted a day off training for such a trivial thing as a fever. He has a job to do, it’s not going to wait, and Boss said working through it would only strengthen his immune system. He’d been sick once soon after Kazuki had moved in – he’d blamed the blonde for bringing his germs in – and Kazuki had manhandled him into his actual bed, got him to drink some disgusting medicine, put a wet cloth on his forehead – he had to admit that bit had been nice - and promised him unlimited ramen cups if he’d remain in the bed the rest of the day and night. Hell, the man had even stayed besides him, switching over the cloths periodically, getting him to drink more medicine, watching him like a hawk.

The next day he had felt much better, he had to admit.

“I know,” Rei kneels down besides the bed, “but better to be cautious. Just rest a bit - for me, okay?”

You’ve been getting better at saying no, but how can you say no to that face?

“Okay,” you mumble, shuffling down in the bed a little. “Are y-you r-really going to w-wash the dishes?”

“Kazuki started doing them as soon as I headed up here. Said we still need to work on a ‘proper scrubbing technique’, apparently.” Rei huffs. “Why are you so worried about the dishes?”

“I’m n-not,” you avoid eye contact, staring at the bed covers.

“Kitty…”

“I w-want to e-earn m-m-my place.”

“Earn?” He frowns.

“Y-yeah. I d-don’t h-have a-any m-m-money or a j-job and I k-k-know Zuki is a-always k-keeping a c-close eye on the b-b-budget and I’m an ad-ad-added ex-expense”, you’re growing flustered, your breath catches in your throat and your stutter is out of control. You dig your nails into your palms, “so the l-least I c-can d-do is c-clean a-and…”

Rei’s hand is now on your cheek, tilting your head to face him. “Breathe,” he reminds, gently. Looking in his eyes grounds you for a moment and you nod, inhaling deeply and purposefully.

“You don’t need to earn anything here. What’s mine is yours, okay? I don’t even need to ask Kazuki to know he’d say the same. Plus, he’s the original couch crasher, so that position’s already taken.” He jokes.

“I w-want to b-be useful, h-have a p-p-purpose…”

“You are and you do, and we can figure out some things when you’re feeling better. But, for right now, I just need you to rest. Please?”

You nod, a little shakily, before laying down fully. It is nice to be lying down.

“Thank you.” He gets up to his feet and pulls the blinds down, blocking out the early afternoon sun.

“C-can you s-stay f-for a bit?”

“Of course.” He returns to the space besides the bed, leaning up against the bedside table. “Close your eyes, I’ll be here.” He lays his hand on top of yours, gently before he withdraws his phone with his other hand, muting the volume and loading up a game. You close your eyes – your head hurts less so with the darkened room. You could just lay like this for a while, right? Then the headache will pass and you can get up and get on with the housework, just lay there for a little longer, listening to Rei tap away at the phone screen…

“Come on,” Kazuki whispers. “We haven’t picked Miri up together in a while. Kitty’ll be fine – she’ll probably sleep better without you hovering over her.”

Rei nods, getting up from his vigil. He hadn’t wanted to leave you really in case you needed anything, but Kazuki is probably right. It isn’t a long trip to the daycare, at least, and you do seem pretty asleep now. He leans over you to brush some hair out of your eyes, noting you still feel a little clammy. He grabs hold of the lion he got you from the zoo – it’s lived in your bed ever since – and tucks it into your arms.

“I’ll be back soon, okay?” He murmurs, before leaving the room quietly and pulling the door to behind him.

You wake up a few hours later, a dull pain in your head but nothing as bad as earlier. You sit up and reach over to the bedside table, taking a swig of water from the glass, before getting to your feet. The alarm clock suggests you’ve been asleep for over three hours and Miri should be home from daycare and you get to your feet, hoping Kazuki and Rei will deem that enough of a rest to let you help out with the evening activities. Your bedroom door is slightly ajar and you hear Miri squeal – she’s usually quite excited when she first gets home but this level seems new. You wince, the noise sending a sharp pain through your head as you approach the door.

You then hear a distinctly female voice, followed by Kazuki. That’s different. Unexpected. There’s a short sentence that you recognize as Rei, then Miri giggling. You push the door shut, softly, unsure what to do. You think hard, trying to remember any female friend that they’ve mentioned before, but nothing springs to mind. You’re also not sure what rules there are, if any, around guests. They’d never had guests before. He always had guests – don’t talk unless spoken to (that one soon became unnecessary), show them respect, serve them as you would him. You turn and climb back into the bed and wait.

Downstairs, the little girl clocks your absence.

“Papas, where’s Kitty?” Miri frowns.

“You have a cat?” Misaki asks, politely.

“No.” Kazuki grunts. “She’s… a guest. Kitty wasn’t feeling very well, Miri, she’s resting in bed.”

“Oh, poor Kitty.” Miri frowns. But then her attention span drifts as she sees her pile of drawings, dragging her mother over to look.

“I should go check on her.” Rei suggests, getting up from the sofa but Kazuki grabs hold of his arm as he tries to walk past and pulls him back, hissing in his ear, “You are not leaving me alone with this woman, who knows what I’ll do?! I’ll go, you stay.” Rei pouts a little. He doesn’t want to be left alone either.

Kazuki knocks on the door gently and he finds you sitting up in the bed, looking nervous.

“H-hi.”

“How are you feeling?” He steps in and closes the door. You can tell his mind is preoccupied though.

“A l-little b-b-better, thanks.” You lie. “I w-would’ve come down b-but I heard so-somebody e-else and…” You don’t finish, feeling a little cowardly.

“Mm. Yeah, we have a ‘guest’. She’s called Misaki and she’s… Well, she’s Miri’s mother.”

You frown. “I t-t-thought…”

“Me too.” Kazuki sighs, leaning against the closed door. “Misaki seems to have had a change of heart. She wants to take Miri back.”

“Oh.”

“Can she do that? It’s been nearly a year. She just… She let her travel across the whole city on her own with nothing but a letter and an envelope of photos. She can’t just demand to take her back, can she?”

“I… I’m n-not sure.” You wish you could comfort Kazuki better. “You’ll n-need to s-sit and t-talk p-properly.”

“I know, I just don’t want to.” He sighs. “Do you feel up for coming downstairs? Miri was asking for you.”

You don’t really want to, but you do for Miri and Kazuki’s sake. You nod, getting out of the bed, grab the black zip up hoody and pull it over your pyjamas, following the blonde out the bedroom door.

When you get downstairs Misaki is nowhere to be seen, but Miri is delighted to see you, cuddling up against your legs. “Kitty, Mama’s here! Well, she was here, but she’s coming back. She’s going to make us dinner!”

“T-that’s exciting.” You smile, warmly.

“Are you feeling any better?” Rei stands besides you, scrutinizing your face.

You nod, give him a smile and lower your voice. “Is Z-Zuki okay?”

“Not particularly.” He shrugs. “We need to keep calm in front of Miri though. Are you sure you’re feeling better? Come on, sit down.”

A little while later, the buzzer goes.

“Do I have to let her back in?” Kazuki grumbles, but Miri has already sprinted to the front door and is jumping up and down, waiting for Kazuki to let her mama back in. He frowns as he sees her laden with shopping bags in hand, informing that she’s going to make Miri’s favourite dinner.

“Oh…” She smiles at you, unsure, looking you up and down. You wish you’d got changed out of your pyjamas. “Hello, I’m Misaki.”

“Mama, this is Kitty!” Miri beams, giddy with excitement to have all her favourite adults in one place.

“Oh, yes, the, er, guest?”

“Yes. H-h-hi.” There’s the look – the one you always get when you stutter. “N-nice to m-meet y-you.”

“What’s all this?” Kazuki asks, gesturing to the plastic bags in Misaki’s hands - thankfully ending this awkward interaction.

“Oh, well, I’m going to make Hamburg steak. I’m afraid I’ll have to use your kitchen…”

Dinner is awkward. There isn’t enough steak for everyone – Misaki only buying four – but that’s okay, you reassure, your appetite is a little off and you’re happy with rice and vegetables. Then there’s not enough chairs at the table, so you offer to sit elsewhere. Kazuki mutters that Misaki should offer to sit elsewhere, like in her own home for one, she’s the one imposing…

You can hear the stilted conversation - Kazuki getting upset as both Miri and Rei compliment the store-bought steak, but Miri is happy to have her papas and mama all together. You’re knelt down besides the coffee table with your dinner, trying your best to not feel excluded. You’d ate worse places and you’d offered, after all…

Rei comes and sits with you on the sofa after dinner, asking if you’re okay, squeezing your hand. You nod – it’s not like Misaki is moving in, you reason in your head, you’ll get your place back. Kazuki is mumbling angrily under his breath as he wipes the dining table, Miri and Misaki working together on the dishes. Miri is telling her mother about how they’re going to sing Silent Night at the daycare’s Christmas party. It’s clear how much Miri loves her mama, but you’ve seen how much the little girl adores Kazuki and Rei too. Not long after the dishes are complete, Miri jumps up besides you on the sofa with a loud yawn when Misaki visits the bathroom and in the time it takes her to return, Miri is snoring happily away. Seeing this, Kazuki takes his chance.

“Talk.” The blonde orders, sitting down at the table and pointing at a chair for Misaki to take.

“Can we do it in, er, private?” She asks, sitting down. You look down at Miri – maybe she hasn’t realized she’s asleep? But when you look up to clarify, you realize she’s looking at you.

“Kitty stays, she’s part of this family too.” Rei replies in a tense tone. You avert your eyes again, looking back at Miri sleeping peacefully on the couch. You’re not sure how this conversation is going to go – you know Kazuki is finding it difficult already and maybe tempers will fray. Miri is a solid sleeper… but, still, you’d hate for her to wake up to find her mama and papas having heated words.

“It’s o-o-okay. I’m f-f-feeling a l-l-little t-tired, so w-why don’t I t-t-take Miri up t-to b-bed?” You suggest. What would you add to the discussion anyway? You worry that you being there will give Misaki ammo, somehow. What are you exposing my daughter to?

“Are you sure?” Kazuki asks and you nod, perhaps a little too eagerly. “Okay, thank you.”

You gently pick the little girl up and she unconsciously snuggles into your arms. Three pairs of eyes of eyes linger on you as you walk up the spiral stairs, padding into Miri’s room and tucking her into her own bed. When you exit, you can hear Kazuki finding it difficult to contain his anger, but you head straight into your room, closing the door to behind you and climbing into bed, cuddling your lion to your chest.

“Run!” A voice demands. “Run…!” It’s your father, of course that’s your father’s voice – how could you have forgotten? He repeats it again, but this time, he says your name, or what you think is your name. The thing is, it’s muffled, almost as you’re underwater – you can’t make it out but you know that’s what he’s saying. Why can’t your brain comprehend it? “Run!” You know, somehow, he doesn’t mean out the front door, so you head to the one at the rear of the property – the one that overlooks the woodland. There’s screeching tyres from the front but you don’t look back. The ground is unsteady and you stumble over roots, branches scratching at your legs. It’s muddy – it’s not ideal for running and your shoes are getting stuck in the mud, you’re clumsy, you’re causing a racket. Why are you running? Where are you running to?

You trip, crashing into the ground, mud splatters up on your face. You know there’s no time to waste – your father’s tone had been desperate - so you grasp above you head blindly, trying to find purchase on a branch or a trunk or a rock. You manage to get back up to your feet, but there’s a sharp twinge in your ankle – you must’ve twisted it in the fall. You stagger forward but it’s useless, you’ve lost your momentum, you’ve lost the little bearings you’ve had, but still you limp forward. There’s a racket growing behind you and you try to increase your pace. Your ankle burns with every step, the mud seems to be grow stickier, pulling back at your feet every time you lift them. Pathetic. An arm grabs you around the waist, and you elbow back, demanding they get off you but you know it’s over then. They’re so much stronger – your elbows don’t even make them flinch.

Your wrists are pulled tightly behind your back, feeling like they’re trying to pull your shoulders out of their sockets. Something’s looped around them – a zip tie? – and tightened until it feels like it’s cutting deep into your skin. You’re span round and you get a glimpse of a face – not one you recognize - before you’re thrown over your assailant’s shoulder. They grumble at the state of you, the mud from your fall now sullying their suit.

You struggle but it’s pointless. Fingers pinch into your thighs as they begin to walk back to the house with you, or at least you think they are. It’s hard to tell, the way you’re being held means you can see nothing but the back of your captor. He’s looped an arm through your bound arms to keep you snug against him, and every jostle the restraints cut into your skin more. You know you’re not screaming – you know there’s no-one around here for miles.

You’re back inside the house now, but the room smells different – tangy, bloody…

You’re dropped down on the floor, opposite your father. His nose is bloody, his eye is blackening rapidly. You stare at him but you don’t say a word. Someone new enters the room and you look down at the ground.

“Aktomi, please.” Your father pleads, “If you just give me a little more time…”

“I’ve given you plenty of time.” He replies. “You haven’t even begun to scrape the surface. I need to collect today.” A pair of well-polished shoes appear in your view and the newcomer crouches down in front of you. A hand grasps your chin and tilts it up so you have to make eye contact and you try and swallow back down your fear. “And when I came to collect, you sent the most valuable thing you have running out the door.”

“Please, sir, I beg of you. My mistakes are nothing to do with her. She has her whole life ahead of her…” Your father is on the verge of tears.

He’s still holding you by the chin, fingers digging into your jaw as he twists your face side to side. You don’t what to think what he’s looking for.

“How old is she?”

“19, sir. She’s a dutiful daughter. Ever since her mother died, she’s been so good to me. I don’t deserve her…”

“No, you don’t,” he lets go at last, seeming happy with his findings and gets to his feet. “Put her in the car.”

“What?” You gasp, but you’re hoisted roughly off the ground, an arm looped through your bound wrists again, a hand grips hold of the back of your neck and forces your head down as you’re dragged out. You can’t get purchase on the ground to make a step, tripping over your own feet as they half-carry you. “Father!” You cry out, but it’s useless – you’re already out the door and up the footpath to the dirt road. Every step further they take you, you can hear your father plead and plead and plead… until there’s a solitary gunshot and you know.

There’s the sound of a door being opened and your neck is released, only for you then to be swept off your feet and dropped into the trunk of a car. You try and sit up but a hand pushes your shoulders firmly back down, causing your head to bang against the side console, making your vision swim. Then he appears, smiling at you.

“Enjoy the ride, sweetheart. I’ll decide how you can pay your father’s debts once we’re home.”

The world goes black.

Your eyes shoot open as you sit up, your breath already caught in your throat, covered in a cold sweat. It takes a second for your eyes to adjust – you’re in bed, you’re in Rei’s bedroom, you’re not in a car, you’re not back there… You’re fine, you’re fine, you’re fine - you try to reassure yourself but you have the sickening feeling once more of your breaths not being enough.

“Kitty?” The voice to your side startles you and you’re hyperventilating now, tears trickling down your cheeks and you’re gripping the bedsheet with both hands – willing yourself to just breathe but you can’t. Your head is trying to remember what Kazuki told you, breathing in and out for so many seconds, but you lose count and maybe you’re not breathing deep enough? Did it feel deeper last time? It’s not getting in.

Misaki had left a little while ago. Kazuki had stormed off to bed, but Rei couldn’t sleep. He wanted to see you, make sure you were okay, talk about what had occurred. The bedroom door had been slightly ajar when he’d got upstairs, so he’d poked his head in to find you tossing and turning in the sheets. He’d just made it to your side when you’d shot bolt-right up in the bed, panting.

He’s kneeling besides the bed now, pulling your hand from the bedsheet and gripping it tightly. He’s saying something but all you can hear is the pounding of your heart in your ears – why’s it so loud? Rei is panicking too - should he get Kazuki? No, he doesn’t want to leave you on your own, not even for a moment. If he shouts for him, that’ll wake Miri too, surely. He takes a breath himself and tries to repeat what Kazuki told him but it’s soon clear you’re not focusing on him at all, staring blankly ahead of you as your eyes are damp with tears. He thinks back to his training – his instructor used to put his hand over his to adjust his positioning on various weapons, so maybe that could work here too. Could he get you to feel how he’s breathing? He gets to his feet and climbs behind you in the bed. His long legs are now either side of you and he reaches forward, grabbing your hands in each of his. He pulls you back and into his chest and he squeezes your hand one, two, three, four times as you feel him inhale behind you, his chest expanding. He’s exaggerating the movements, hoping to get through to you. One, two, three, four, he counts with a squeeze as he holds the breath. Another one, two, three, four as he releases the breath and starts the sequence again. You close your eyes and just try and focus on the rise and fall of his chest, mimicking the motion, and on the squeezes of his hands on yours. You don’t know how long it takes – minutes, hours? – but your breaths become deeper and calmer once more, returning to almost normal as Rei continues holding you tight, squeezing and breathing.

“Feeling better?” His voice murmurs in your ear, his breath tickling your neck.

You nod. “T-thank y-you.”

“No problem.” He hesitates briefly, before letting go of your hands. You immediately grab hold of his left arm, pulling it around your stomach. He tenses for a second but relaxes soon after.

“D-don’t g-g-go. P-please.”

“I won’t.” He soothes, “I’ll stay as long as you need me to, okay?”

You squeeze his hand, taking a shuddering breath. “N-ni-nightmare.” You confide before Rei can ask. He leans his head on your shoulder, wrapping his other arm around you without prompt, leaning back into the pillows. “A-about t-the n-n-night my f-father died. F-father, he… H-he was s-saying m-my n-n-name but I c-couldn’t h-hear it.”

“That must be frustrating. I’m sorry.”

You sit for a few moments, enjoying the grounding feeling of being wrapped in his arms as you continue to breathe in sync. As your thoughts begin to rationalize, you remember what had occurred before you’d fallen asleep.

“W-what happened with M-Misaki?”

“She’s got cancer. She doesn’t think she has long left to live.”

“Oh, t-that’s aw-awful.”

“Mm. She wants to live out the rest of her life with Miri, live her life now for Miri.” A pause. “She said she knows about our line of work, and that if we truly care about Miri, then we’d do what’s best for her.”

“T-that’s not f-fair.” Rei doesn’t reply, musing over it in his head. “What d-does Zuki t-think?”

“He didn’t say much – he just went to bed. I don’t know what we should do.”

You wish you knew the right thing to say, but you don’t. You know Kazuki and Rei love and adore Miri, they’ve done nothing but good for her. You don’t know much about Misaki’s life, but Miri obviously adored her so she can’t have been a terrible mother. Then again, how could a mother send their little girl out alone…?

“S-sleep on it.” You suggest. “Everyone’s e-emotions a-are high. S-sleep w-will help.”

You feel him nod on your shoulder. “And you, will you be able to sleep?”

“I… I d-don’t k-know.” You bite your lip. “I… I don’t want you to go.”

“I won’t go. I told you, I’ll stay as long as you need me.”

You close your eyes.

The first conscious thought is there’s a sharp burst vibration on his right leg. It’s signaling a text. The second is he has his arms wrapped around you, spooning you into the wall and he’s in your bed. It’s pleasant – your breathing is steady and you feel so soft and warm… There’s another vibration against his leg. He carefully removes his arm from around you to retrieve his phone – his other one will have to remain trapped under your sleeping form for now.

He turns away as he unlocks the device, not wanting the light from it to cast on your face. It’s a number he doesn’t have saved, which makes his gut sink because it can only mean one thing.

Boss wants to see you – immediately.

It’s a little after 6am – Boss has always been an early riser. It hasn’t been that long since he last saw him on his birthday, but so much has happened in that time. He was meant to be tying up loose ends, but then you came along and… Well, dominated his thoughts.

Rei slides his arm out from under you but you abruptly turn, mumbling in your sleep. He freezes, he doesn’t want to wake you up because of the Boss of all things. He spots the plush lion and presses it under your arm. You sigh, squeezing it and your breathing returns to its steady state.

He know he’s stealthy – it was a large part of his training, after all - but it doesn’t feel right to get changed whilst you’re in the room. He gathers up the necessary pieces of his suit and heads towards the door, pausing briefly to glance back at you and smile.

He dresses in the bathroom, checking his appearance in the mirror as he ties up his hair. He puts a change of clothes in a bag – the suit’s been feeling more constrictive recently, and not due to Kazuki’s cooking, so he doesn’t want to wear it longer than necessary. He’s halfway to the front door when he turns back, finds a scrap of paper and leaves a note on the dining table.

Taken the car. Back later – Rei.

Comments, likes, reblogs and follows much appreciated <3 EDIT: Part 10 here.

#ghostdogwrites #buddy daddies fanfic #rei suwa fluff #rei suwa x reader #suwa rei x reader #buddy daddies fluff #rei suwa x you #suwa rei x you #buddy daddies #kazuki kurusu #miri unasaka #misaki unasaka

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