#oh my beloved murder women

[nostalgia-tblr]

I think the what made the Elementary Moriarty reveal so great is not just that she's a woman or whatever, it's that mid-season we had been introduced to Irene in the past tense and so a) they'd made Irene the love interest (as almost everyone does these days, to be fair) and b) they'd fucking fridged her before the show even started. And we'd spent months (months!) being annoyed about that, such a let-down in an otherwise wonderful show, grr! So to then discover in the season finale that no, she's not dead, she's just an evil criminal mastermind... that was such a relief! Not fridged! Just evil!

[vvanessaives]

i was tagged by @risingsh0t @indorilnerevarine @shadowglens @swordcoasts and @arklay to make some of my ocs in this picrew, thank you so much everyone this was soso much fun!!

i’m tagging: @uldwynsovs @morvaris @nuclearstorms @faarkas @denerims @cultistbase @steelport @stormveils @devilbrakers @girlbosselrond @florbelles and whoever else wants to do this!!

maegar lucretio celtigar (hotd) || visenyra cornelia celtigar (hotd) arianne aspasia vance (hotd) || cassandrae (bg3) camylla (bg3) || violante waesphine (bg3) || moira velez (fnv)

[fictionallyinparadise]

Not to be gay on main but...........f/o body hair goobd

[many-gay-magpies]

anyways i finished the peripheral. had to come on tumblr to search stuff up about it immediately because what the fuck was that ending. found out amazon renewed and then canceled season 2. we are in the dystopia now

[meiieiri]

water’s edge | concept dump

₊˚.༄ pairing: crown prince!gojo satoru x f!reader | setting: modern royal au

₊˚.༄ summary: in a world where titles define their fates, gojo satoru, the crown prince of japan, and his wife-to-be, face a tempestuous court of deception and schadenfreude. as they waltz on the edge of ruin, can their love endure the treacherous waters that threaten to pull them apart, or will the whims of the enigmatic chrysanthemum throne prove strong enough to drown them both?

₊˚.༄ warnings: mean!gojo (but that’s not even the worst of it oh my god what monstrosity have i created), arranged marriage, illness, allusions to criminal activity that may include reckless homicide, physical battery and attempted murder. mentions of depression, cheating, physical and emotional abuse, trauma, adultery. fictional depiction of the japanese imperial family, etc.

LINK TO FULL FIC MASTERLIST HERE!

₊˚.༄ Crown Prince!Gojo who is the only son of the emperor and empress of Japan, the beloved and long-awaited child of his parents. As a child, he had been showered with endless praise and veneration as the one, true, legitimate heir to the chrysanthemum throne. The entire imperial household had expected the prince to inherit an unwavering sense of duty to the crown and to his people much like his fore-bearers, only to be severely disappointed when the prince turns out to be a pathological card shark with ambiguous morals, and a serial womanizer who has slept with countless women from aristocratic backgrounds during the height of his bachelor years.

₊˚.༄ Crown Prince!Gojo who finally incurs his father’s wrath after a nasty bar brawl that leads to him getting unceremoniously arrested and is stripped of his title and properties as crown prince, favoring his half-brother, Prince Suguru Geto, who had been born of the emperor’s affair with one of the empress’s ladies-in-waiting. This incident has prompted his mother, the empress, to help in ratifying his public image by arranging Satoru to marry a commoner with an impeccable standing in Japanese society in a bid to re-portray Satoru as a responsible, married man. The empress, in turn, offers to grant you, Satoru’s future wife-to-be, anything your heart could ever desire.

₊˚.༄ Crown Prince!Gojo who engages in a pantomime act of being a loving husband to you during a state banquet by showering you with endless praise in his speech addressed to all the world leaders in the Akasaka Palace’s reception hall. When he was asked to introduce you, his new wife, the honeyed words came so easily to him. “You see, the princess (Y/N) is no ordinary woman,” he chuckles into the microphone causing the guests to giggle at the sight of what looks to be a bashful newlywed.

��Other than being the first breath of fresh air our family has ever had the pleasure of knowing in so long, and the most active member in our family when it comes to supporting the many royal charities and foundations, she is…” he trails off. You dared to follow the wandering gaze of your husband, who seems to be searching for another pair of eyes in the room. His eyes eventually stop their search, softening at the sight of the one he loved. For a second, you think he is looking at you, and your heart naively skips a beat in your chest as if all these months of inattention and animosity were finally coming to an end.

“…My better half, the keeper of my own heart.”

Many of the ambassador’s wives who sat beside you nudged you in congratulations for being so blessed with such a devoted husband. You crane your head back to smile warmly at them for the kind words only to have ice coat your veins instantly when you see his Chief-of-Staff, Himiko Zenin, sitting about two seats behind you, staring directly at your husband with a wistful look in her eyes, exchanging words of love in a silent oath — one that is far more certain than the rising and the setting of the sun as each day passes with your husband hating you a tad bit more than yesterday, and one that is far more truthful than the wedding vows you shared.

Of course, writing this godforsaken death march-like speech was easy for Satoru, simply because these words of devotion and love were never intended for you anyway; this poetic spiel was written with another woman ensnaring his mind.

₊˚.༄ Crown Prince!Gojo who sneaks out of bed during your wedding night, sparing one last cold glance at your sleeping form before he saunters out the imperial villa to meet his girlfriend in a nearby mountain resort, about half a mile away from the villa. His personal chauffeur had been sworn to secrecy, else, he would incur the wrath of the crown prince.

“I thought you couldn’t get away,” Himiko moans wantonly into his mouth as he roughly takes her from behind, the lewd wet sounds of their lovemaking echoing through the room. He had taken the liberty of secretly bringing Himiko along to your honeymoon, by booking the most expensive suite in the resort for her under another name.

“The bitch is too fucked out to even notice I’m gone— mmph—“ he throws his head back, releasing a pleasured groan when Himiko meets his sharp thrusts, grinding teasingly on his cock as she does so. He grips her hips tightly, readjusting his hips to pound into her from another angle, the muscles on his abs tightening as he gets lost in the feeling of her tight, luscious walls. “Sh-shit, ‘m-m gonna cum—“

“—Ah! S-Satoru,” she was close too, her eyes rolling to the back of her head as the fat tip of his member roughly prods at her cervix.

He half-expected Himiko to be angry with him for engaging in intimate acts with you, but she simply acts like she didn’t hear him. And even if she was upset, why should he, of all people, apologize? She should have known that becoming his mistress entailed having to endure these kinds of things as these were simply Satoru’s marital duties, and by extension, his duty to the crown.

His high washes over him like a tidal wave crashing into the rock shore, grunting as he involuntarily thrusts as he releases inside her, Himiko collapsing onto the pillows as he does. “O-oh, haaa- agh,” his deep tenor moans into her long black hair as his seed paints her walls, holding her close to his form, their heartbeats racing a million miles an hour.

He pulls out his flaccid cock, plopping down next to her, pulling her small frame for her head to rest on his chest. “I just need to have father reinstate me as heir apparent and return all my estates, then,” he kisses her once, his lips moving in sync with her soft ones.

“…We’ll get rid of her.”

₊˚.༄ Crown Prince!Gojo who blatantly and publicly humiliates you by bringing along Himiko Zenin to a state visit to the imperial family’s counterpart in Monaco rather than you, his rightful wife. And when asked of your whereabouts, Satoru simply replies with a casual shrug, his hand squeezing Himiko’s smaller ones as she usurps the banquet thrown in your honor by the Monacan royal family while you watch the horrific scene unfold on your television screen, your heart shattering into a million pieces as Himiko and Satoru uncaringly waltz with one another in front of the watchful eyes of the entire world throughout the evening.

₊˚.༄ Crown Prince!Gojo who crucifies you for your acts of sincere charity, believing you to be actively humiliating Himiko despite having no intentions whatsoever resembling his baseless accusation. “Did you honestly think your little publicity antics would go unpunished? I bet you were just itching for the attention, weren’t you?” he snarls at you the second you come back from a visit to one of the hospitals you had commissioned for the treatment of children with rare diseases, a compassionate act which had been heavily televised by national broadcasting stations and even international news agencies. “If you wish to compete with Himiko, wife, then, by all means. But I swear to you, I will do everything — everything I can — to make the entire world know just how much of an opportunistic whore you are—”

You gaze up at your husband with fear in your eyes. “…I was not competing with Himiko, can I not care for our people — your people? I’m sure they need someone to promote their interests when their own prince couldn’t be bothered to do so!” you retaliate but are quickly shot down when he throws his scotch glass at the wall, causing you to flinch when it shatters on impact.

“I will make sure this humiliation you dealt to Himiko will return to you tenfold, (Y/N),” he dangerously seethes, coming to the aid of his mistress. “Celebrate your victory all you want, wife, but make no mistake, this is far from over.”

₊˚.༄ Crown Prince!Gojo who indifferently scoffs when you crumble into a sobbing mess after yet another argument with him. “W-what can I do to make you not hate me so much? P-please tell me, Satoru.” The only response you receive is your husband dangerously moving closer to you, his eyes, dark with pure loathing. Instinctively, you step backward, only to be met by the cold wall of your shared bedroom. “S-Satoru—“

“—Here’s what you can do: do exactly as I say, without question,” he traps you between his arms, his breath hot on your skin, his lips dangerously close to yours, his voice dripping with the venom that could turn every silver thread in your heart into a hue that resembled charcoal black. “If I tell you to kiss me, you kiss me. If I tell you to get out, you get out. If I tell you to shut up, you sew your mouth shut or rip your tongue out, I really don’t give a damn. If I tell you to die…”

…

…

“…You drop dead.”

a/n: meh, just wrote this at the top of my head to get rid of this stupid writer’s block since hehe i have like eighteen drafts of jjk smut and drabbles in my tumblr folder rn help :’)

might turn this into a multi-chapter fic depending on how it is received. so lemme know your thoughts by reblogging, liking or commenting on this post!

[jennycalendar]

descending into deadlochposting on main i don't even care. this show is SO GOOD. i think the thing that really stuck with me throughout every episode is how committed it is to not fucking up women, and especially women of color, just to have a Plot Point + for Emotional Resonance!!! every woman on this show gets an ending that feels earned. (and yes that does include margaret carruthers.) there is just so much love woven into this narrative but they still manage to capture the grim miserable reality of patriarchy without EVER reducing a female character we care about to a Murder Victim or having her horrifically brutalized as an ending!!!! like holy shit, guys, it's actually fucking possible! you can create horror blended perfectly with humor and never actually fuck women over!!!

and yeah actually as a woc it felt really fucking good to watch a show where i got to see women of color (aleyna and tammy and sharelle and miranda and faye my beloved <333) just thrive and be silly and stupid and terrible and also lovable. and also, oh my god, revolutionary, NOT GET MURDERED, even though this is literally a fckin murder show!!! i said to my dad like midway through the series that i just got this sense the show understood how goddamn hard it is to watch television sometimes waiting for that character you love, who looks like you and has life experiences that resonate with you, to get killed, or to be treated like she's not important, and how dedicated it is to not just killing off women for shock value. every woman in this show mattered and had meaning and dimension.

because seriously, SO MANY INCREDIBLE WOMEN!!! abby with her perfect little haircut driving off into the sunset saying Of Course She Knows She's Right About Forensics. aleyna and her husband, her whole heart!!!! vanessa who in a lesser show would have been reduced to The Bad Woman, The Bigot, but we are shown how she has been abused and mistreated by men and how that's so informed her perspective + her genuine love for her son! sharelle who lays down the hard truths, who calls them out -- "all this civility but no fucking community" !!! miranda who learns that she doesn't want blood money from a woman who looks down on her cousin! tammy who is literally just all about that footy club the entire time even as men are being murdered and that's honestly so real of her. skye o'dwyer who perfectly captures that Emotionally Unavailable Dad energy except she's a lesbian and i love her. nadiyah who is Trying Her Best :) And Gritting Her Teeth About It :) faye who has no god damn patience for margaret carruthers and all kinds of blunt determined love for her niece and her daughter. vic who throws herself under the bus because she's just so determined to protect anyone she can after the women in this town protected her and kept her secret for so long!!! cath who parents her emotions and is definitely relentless in her guilting but also so relentless in her love. MARGARET CARRUTHERS WHO EXEMPLIFIES SHITTY RICH WHITE WOMAN. and of fucking course, the legends, the buddy-cop duo of all time, dulcie and eddie, who are just perpetually going around like this

except it's not even working because eddie chewed the leash off.

favorite show of the year by far. so so happy about it. rotating it joyfully in my brain for the next week, probably longer.

[wordstome]

I am having a goddamn nightmare of a time writing the university au (mostly because I have a shit ton of work to do…for my university…lol) so have some headcanons about the most toxic couple you’ve ever met. mdni under the cut

They’re like the definition of a situationship. They’re dating in every aspect except by name

At first she does try to sleep with other guys like she did before König but that doesn’t last long, because nobody else is as good as him. She will never admit this outside of the bedroom

Meanwhile he literally calls her his girlfriend behind her back

She’s emotionally unavailable toxic, he’s obsessive and possessive toxic

König enjoys the pursuit and just thinks it’s normal for women to be difficult like this. I would say “poor König” but he has a bad habit of picking her up and carrying her places against her will so he’s not that poor

She likes to tell herself she has no attachment to him, but she loves the ego boost he gives her by acting like a lovestruck puppy and following her everywhere. She’s also secretly into him being controlling

She does have her moments of genuinely caring about him, though. She brought him lunch once and he looked at her like she hung the moon the whole day. Her excuse was that she just happened to get/make an extra portion, but she did, in fact, get him a portion on purpose

She basically lives with him after a certain point. Her roommates barely see her anymore since she only comes and goes from her old place to get things. He constantly threatens to change the locks on her, but they both know it’s an empty threat. He much prefers to punish her in sexy ways

She'll just be minding her own business talking to a classmate or perhaps flirting with someone when König will come up behind her and put his arms around her. If she was just talking to someone she'll pat his face before attempting to shoo him off. If she was flirting with someone, she wrenches him off her and storms off in a huff (whoever she was talking to has definitely fled from König's evil eye by that point)

They don't really fight, they just have spats because König is endlessly amused by her anger and she is unable to stay mad at him for long. The one time they had a real fight was nasty, and they didn't talk for days afterwards

She's usually quite a chill, go with the flow person (because if she allowed herself too much stress or anxiety at once it would destroy her), but König brings out the spitfire in her

In equal measure, König is a bit of the shy and quiet giant type, but she brings out the brat tamer in him. They alternate balancing each other out

It's kind of easy to look at them and go "why are they still doing this to themselves" but when they get along (i.e. he's behaving himself and she's not pretending not to know him) they're as functional as any other couple

This definitely goes without saying: the nastiest most bed-breaking sex. They fuck like they’re trying to murder each other

I know it's a pet peeve of many people when they say the reader is ooooo so small and delicate next to the cod men, and I tend to agree. However, unless you are also nearly seven feet tall and built like an olympic swimmer, I'm just gonna say you're smaller than König

That being said, he LOVES using his size against her. Picking her up, bending her over things, bending her in half (mating press, his beloved)

If he wants her to stay, she'll stay. He'll have one hand on her throat pinning her down, the other keeping her open to slam into her

This brat will look him dead in the eye and ask "is that all you've got?", which obviously makes him lose his mind in the best way

She definitely has more experience than he does, which actually works out in his favor: him getting better at fucking really just means he's getting better at fucking her

They're so goddamn nasty they've definitely fucked in semi-public places because she teased him to the point of madness and he popped a boner so hard it was painful

Oh, the dirty talk. König is such a gentleman outside of the bedroom, but the degradation that comes out of him while he's fucking her is toe-curling. A lot of "nobody else can fuck you like this" and "all you're good for is taking me in your tight little hole"

He growls??? I don't know if y'all have heard his voicelines in German but he snarls at her when he's trying to teach her a lesson and it turns her into putty

This post is dedicated to @kneelingshadowsalome, who is waiting for this fic so patiently and is my shining beacon of motivation at this point lol

[sparrow-the-tired-lesbian]

thoughts on episode 2 (SPOILERS)

Oh don’t  tell me we get Sylki this episode 

OH MY GOD THEYRE WEARING TUXEDOS

MARRIED COUPLE LOKIUS

oh god no not Brad 

HA LOKI SCARED THE SHIT OUT OF HIM

Mobius you’re such a dummie

B15 MY BELOVED

OHOHO GET FUCKED BRAD

Mobius is gay panicking

BRAD WHAT KIND OF RUN IS THAT

OHOHO MAGIC

WHERE DID YA COME FROM WHERE DID YA GO WHERE DID YA COME FROM COTTON EYE LO

MOBIUS IS GAY PANICKINGGGGGG

*sings along to the theme song*

Ohhh b15 you’re lookin fine

There’s a jail in the TVA??? I forgot about that

bring it to my son

OUROBOROS WHERE ARE YOU

SON

Aww he talks to himself that’s cute

So smart

He’s gonna get so fed up with people bringing shit to him when he wrote a whole book about it

Sweet Casey

Married couple Lokius building their IKEA bed

CASEY READ THE GUIDEBOOK! WE STAN A GREAT BOI

I’m going to fight Brad

Brad is so right about Lokis character but damn Mobius going to defend him is kinda gay

Why do I feel like Brad is talking directly to me when he’s talking to-

DONT TALK ABOUT FRIGGA I WILL MURDER YOU BRAD

The sass on lokis tone I’m going to cry

Mobius reign in your boyfriend

Loki is scaring me actually

That sounded kinda sexual Loki my man

YOURE RIGHT BRAD

THERAPY

MOBIUS’S PET?

Yeah Mobius who were you

Oh jeez

Mobius is about to flip out

HE FLIPPED

Loki caring for his husband <3

Following each other <3

KISS NOW

THE PIE SCENE

Awe Loki with his little legs crossed he’s so adorable around Mobius

Yeah you lost it baby

Comfort your husband Loki

WASNT TACTICAL??? BABE YOU ATTACKED NYC

Talk about your feelings Mobius

Why would you thank him for kidnapping you Mobius?

Felt that about bad and good lemme tell ya

Would you quit it about Sylvie

OUROBOROS!!!!

Don’t get hurt baby I’ll cry

Uh oh

UH OH

BRAD????

Is he dead?

Aww man he’s alive

Round two of what babe

NEED ANOTHER SESSION???

HARDBALL TACTICS?!!!??!

WHAT ARE THESE WORDS YOURE SAYING

Big machine

He’ll torture you babe

Remembering things for their husband this is cute

Uh oh Loki what are you doing

LOKI STOP IT

LOKI 

stop asking about Sylvie for the love of god

ENJOY YOURSELF?!

Mobius you’re so sweet

YEAH BRAD DONT BRING UP A VILLAIN’S MOTHER

Kill him hon maybe we won’t have to deal with his dumb ass

Terrible awful things 

He’s lost his shit I love it 

Loki please this is going too far

Okay nice we made Brad suffer and Loki is being everything Mobius could want in a boyfriend

Mobius was in on it?!

OB WHAT DO YOU MEAN WERE GONNA DIE

*gasp* OUROBOROS AND CASEY MY NEW OTP

HES FANBOYING

AWWWW BABIES 

oh no world is dead

*sings McDonald’s jingle*

Where’s my wife

Awww she’s so proactive I love her so much

NO NO NO NOT SYLKI PLEASE NOT SYLKI

One Unhappy meal please

Talk less Loki 

Can Sylvie drive

CORRECT OMG MY WIFE

THIS IS MY BELOVED 

Leave her alone Loki please

Advertisement 

OH MY GOD MOBIUS IS ON SOME SYLKI HATE

“It’s cinema thank you very much”

Murder

QUICK CHANGE WITH SYLVIE

THEYRE KILLING RVERYTHING

IHOHO MURDER

COMPROMISED OF CIURSE BABY

OH NO

call your boyfriend Casey

Don’t hold hands

NO

uh oh

Bye bye Sylvie :)

Oh she’s back

What are we looking at

Oh no…

Those are people!

Uh oh Sylvie’s angry

I might as well just make a harem of marvel women I want to wife me up 

Don’t pull that Sylki bullshit on me

Mobius is sad Loki go comfort him

At least Sylvie had her life

Does she have a friend?

What’s going on between those two?!

I’m so confused

Post credits???

Why not?

[maxwell-grant]

So... Thoughts on The Penguin trailer?

I'm trying to reign in my optimism a bit and be a little more cautious, but so far: ahahahah oh man, oh man oh man, I'm really excited for this.

God I gotta get back on my Sopranos watch, I gotta start making time for it again. I mean, it's been a terrific show so far, I'm not just watching it because of this, but out of everything we've seen so far this trailer is the biggest "we're doing The Sopranos" thing I've seen from them yet.

I love the mention of Rex Calabrese here and the recontextualization of his character, and how Oswald views him. For comparison's sake: In Batman Eternal, Rex Calabrese was brought up as a brutal ruler who ripped throats out with his teeth and terrified all the other cops and crime families into obeying him and who understood the natural order through which he was supplanted by Falcone, who was then supplanted by Penguin. But here, he talks about Rex Calabrese as a childhood hero who helped people, who was given a funeral parade as a show of love from the people. That's the kind of person Oz idolizes, the kind of life he wants and is starting to think he will never get to have.

Here's one of the big reasons why this is already the best take on Gangster Penguin there's ever been, and the thing I love the most about this trailer, and something that absolutely defined him in the movie as well: Oswald is completely delusional about what being a gangster actually means.

Oswald here is a guy who had his heart broken in the movie because Falcone, the guy he followed and obeyed and looked up to with every breath, turned out to be a backstabbing piece of shit, with Oswald clearly kept in the dark about the nastier things Falcone got up to. He gets very offended at the suggestion he murdered Annika or that he did the Riddler's serial killer rat maze trap, and in that deleted scene where he tries to pay Selina and keep her from going underground, he clearly wants to be the guy who treats his staff allright and pays them what they need and tries to shield her from the grubby animals downstairs that he on some level finds disgusting (even though they're on his club, and he's providing them with what they want, and he's shielding the worst one of all).

And now he's sitting here talking about his old hero, a gangster from his neighborhood who reached out to people in the street and helped them, who died with his pride in hand and was beloved by his community for it. The kind of guy that Oswald emotionally talks about as someone he wants to be like, as he's getting ready to go to war and shoot and stab and blow up people in a crumbling nightmare city.

This is, in spite of everything, a guy who is very, very preoccupied with being some kind of gentleman, or at least more of a gentleman than the criminals he cavorts with, and a guy whose vision of himself doesn't match the reality of what he does, and a guy who has made a ridiculous cartoon of himself in order to try and forcing that childish idea into reality. This is a Penguin who lives and dresses and acts as an absurd child's idea of a rich and powerful man, except what that entails has changed.

Instead of wanting to be the romantic aristocrat, instead of playing the cultured gentleman thief, this Oswald wants to be the friendly gangster. He wants to be the neighborhood king who runs soup kitchens and helps old ladies cross the street and inspires beaten-down insecure loser kids like him to strive for more, the mafioso who looks out for women and kids and isn't scared of the cops and gets funeral parades for being such a swell guy who just does a little crime ova here every now and then, eeyy, c'maan.

Oswald here has the same dream as Giorno Giovanna, from JoJo Part 5, and he saw Rex Calabrese as the distant mysterious gangster who looked out for Giorno and invisibly kept bullies from picking on him and made the neighborhood treat him decently, who showed him what real power, power to protect himself and others, looks like, and he very clearly wanted to project that kind of fantasy onto Falcone, who is an actual gangster, and thus doesn't act remotely the way Oswald thinks they ought to act.

Oswald here wants to be the Depression-era honorable mafioso, just as outdated and fictional and mismatched a character in our time as the gentleman thief aristocrat was to the 1940s, and to me that feels like the first time anyone's really made Penguin-as-Gangster be a concept worth it's weight and play into makes him so engaging a character. It's just instead of being a burglar and crimelord who reads Raffles and quotes Shakespeare, this Oswald is a Tony Soprano who prays every night to be Don Corleone once he grows up.

And he might even get his chance! Because the way things are going in Gotham, with the city destroyed and in need of rebuilding, with the entire infrastructure crumbled and the mob having lost their figureheads and supply, and Oswald holding one of the few structures not completely totaled, he has the opportunity of a lifetime here to swoop in and play the Capone/Dillinger to this Depression-flavored Gotham.

And I'm really curious as to where he's heading within the show: whether he's going to make this fantasy of his work and be the reasonable flexible-but-unbeatable crimelord and the sole player remaining in town, or whether the downfall of organized crime in Gotham and the rise of the weirdos means that our beloved waddling freak is going to have to come to terms with what he actually is, and grab his colorful suits and his new name and make some umbrella guns to embrace and ride his bizarre awfulness into the sunset.

[nostalgia-tblr]

I've been wanting to write this fic for YEARS and kept failing to actually do so. It is The One Where Missy Tutors Jamie Moriarty In How To Be Evil. At last it exists! Hurrah for me! \o/

Title: Protégée (AO3) Fandom: Doctor Who, Elementary Rating: General Audiences Character(s): Missy & Jamie Moriarty Wordcount: ~1700 Additional Tags: Education, Mary Poppins: Criminal Mastermind Edition, Women Being Awful, Short One Shot, Minor The Doctor/The Master (Doctor Who) Summary/Snippet: Missy tuts. “Don’t insult me, girl. ‘Good’ is for other people. Now, pay attention, you’re about to learn from the very, very worst.”

[darkestspring]

Bronze and Silver

a/n: upon popular request i’ve decided to make an expanded second part to my rhea x daemon daughter little blurb which you can find HERE! I was so excited to write the first part so i loved writing this so much.

words: a little over 2k words

It had come from a drunken night between Lady Rhea Royce and her husband (as much as it made her nearly vomit to say that word) Daemon Targaryen. One single night of drunken stupor and only weeks later was it comfirmed that Lady Royce was pregnant.

The maester had gently suggested contacting her husband which she had scoffed at, this baby is hers. Nothing of his, why should she inform her ever so absent and estranged husband.

As she placed her hand on her stomach, a rare smile came over her face. Her baby. Her blood, her child.

At first the pregnancy wasn’t easy, she cursed out everyone who irritated her and her child’s craving for fruit never left, she was amazed by it.

The birth was difficult, the pain overbearing as she screamed her way through it with the help of the maesters.

After nine hours, her child was here. The placed her blood in her arms and she was amazed by her daughter. White hair and bright purple eyes but she had the shape of her nose and the same face as her mother.

Rhea trailed her finger down he daughter’s little nose, in something akin to awe as she cradled her daughter.

“My lady, what name have to thought of. The king gifted you a book of Valyrian names a long time ago. Shall I fetch it?” The servant asked, as the maesters tended to the Lady and her newborn child.

Rhea had scoffed, irritation flashing through her. “This child is a Royce, my blood. Their name shall be fitting of it,”

“Diana.” She declared, looking to the maester. “My daughter shall be Diana Royce, after the goddess of the moon, the hunt and protector of women. My little huntress.” She cooed the last part as her daughter made little sound, her purple eyes staring up at her mother with interest.

Years later, those same purple eyes fill with tears as she clung to her cousin’s clothes. “No, mama can’t be gone! How could such an injustice be served!”

How could Gerold comfort a child who had just lost their mother to the father they never even knew? His little cousin of six.

At the age of six, Diana was talented with a bow and arrow, taking after her mother, the mother she loved that was now dead.

After the funeral processions, Gerold headed to King’s Landing to attend the wedding of Princess Rhaenyra (they had all agreed to keep her existence a secret from her absent father) and Diana snuck into Dragonstone.

She would claim a dragon and take her revenge. She would avenge her mother, who had done nothing but what was expected of her. Let her father learn that there are always consequences for the actions he takes.

As Gerold Royce accuses Daemon Targaryen of Lady Rhea Royce’s murder, Lady Diana Royce-Targaryen sneaks into dragonstone and claims the monstrous Cannibal as her own.

She returns home with a bonded dragon and victory on her tongue as she orders them to bring three goats for her beloved boy.

She’s thirteen when she gets the news that her father’s wife is dead, and then her cousin’s husband is dead, and then her cousin and father marry. She laughs the loudest when she hears what they’re saying about her father. She’s always known he was a murderer, and now others know it too.

She’s fifteen when the call to court comes, they have discovered her existence and wish to see the truth with their own eyes.

“Prepare my things.” She ordered the servants as she sets the letter down. “Back a light back and run me a both. I wish to wear my black riding clothes.”

“Yes, my Lady.” The servants rushed off to get started as smile started to tug at the lips of Lady Diana Royce.

“Oh, this is too funny!” Diana laughs as she leans back into her chair, her purple eyes filled with amusement. “This is getting so much more interesting!”

As she dressed in blackened thick riding leathers, she climbs onto Cannibal’s black. She pets his neck gently with a smile. “It’s gonna be a long ride, boy.” She looks forward to all of it. “Soves!”

The dragon keepers are terrified when she lands, its been years since they’ve seen the cannibal. “He won’t be in the dragon pit.” She reassures them before turning to her dragon. “Soves, Cannibal!”

Cannibal lets out a roar that shakes the foundations around them as he leaps into the sky and disappears from view.

“My Lady.” The knight before her bows and she nods, clasping her hands in front of her. “I will guide you to see the Queen and Lord Hand, your uncle is too busy to entertain today.”

Sick, they mean. Diana knows everything, as any good Lady would when they plot the downfall of their own father.

Diana smiles, tilting her head and her white hair tilts her. She doesn’y say anything as she walks ahead.

“Lady Diana Royce-Targaryen!” The guard at the door announced and with her head high, Diana walked forth. Her eye caught white hair and she turned to look as a boy around her age, with an eyepatch over one eye looking at her with intrigue.

She turned her face back around and stopped in front of her supposed aunt and the hand.

“I welcome you to King’s Landing, Lady Royce.” Alicent greeted the girl, a strained smile filling her face. She had no idea that Daemon had actually had a daughter with his first wife, it was news to her father as well.

“Thank you, Your Majesty.” Diana bowed her head to her as she stood still. “I admit, I fear I do not understand why I have been summoned away from my home, The Vale.”

“We were not aware of your existence. None of us were. Not even the king.” Otto stares at the girl of fifteen in front of him as her eyebrows furrow and her eyes narrow. “One might be curious as to why.”

“It was never deemed necessarily. My mother, may the gods protect her departed soul, never deemed it necessary to inform anyone outside of the vale, including my... father.” The word tasted like acid in her mouth and her mask dropped for a second, allowing Alicent and Otto to see her disgust and resentment.

“After her sudden death, we decided to keep this knowledge limited to the Vale. I am a Royce after all.”

Sick satisfaction settled in Otto as he was clued in to the fact that Daemon didn’t know this child existed. This child that they could influence and that they could take under their wing. “Yes, but we know now and you are of marrying age.”

“Yes, and I am also the Lady of the Vale, rider of the monstrous Cannibal. I am many things. I want many things.” Diana spoke, her kind act dropping as she stared at the both of them with irritation.

Aemond was stunned at the words, The Cannibal? No one could tame him because he ate humans and dragons alike but his cousin had? He wanted to talk more to her. His mother and grandfather had told him of the possibility of a betrothal.

“If you wish for me to marry your second son, say so. I tire of games. I want my father’s head. I don’t care about anyone else.” Diana declared, trying to keep a hold on her irritation.

“Lady Diana!” Alicent tried to reprimand her, even if she did feel bad for the girl. She hadn’t had a female figure to look after since she was six.

Otto found amusement in this girl, she knew what she wanted and didn’t hold back. A good asset indeed. “The king has agreed to a betrothal between the lady Diana and Prince Aemond.”

At his name, Aemond stepped forward until he was right next to Diana and she didn’t move an inch.

Diana stared for a minute with her hard gaze before nodding. “The Vale accepts this proposal. As you are all aware, when I come of age, I will rule the Vale as its Lady, that means that Prince Aemond will become the Lord of the Vale alongside me, any children we have will be our successor.”

“We are aware of that.” Alicent nodded, sending a soft look at Aemond who was surprised but also not against the agreement.

“My betrothed.” Aemond held out his hand and Diana finally turned to him, he was struck by the vibrancy in her eyes as she placed her hand in his.

“My betrothed.” She said in return, nodding to the queen and hand as Aemond guided her away.

As he guided her down to the dragon pit, Cannibal landed nearby, startling Aemond and making a smile appear on Diana’s face. “I’m sure you’ll introduce me to Vhagar later but if Cannibal approves of you, I’ll honor our agreement.”

Aemond’s eye darkened as he looked at her. She would honor it anyways, their betrothal was already set. He was already impressed by her. As a dragon, he was known to be possessive over what he considered his.

Cannibal growled as he approached his rider and the other targaryen. His toxic green eye glared into Aemond as Diana walked closer, her hand petting his jaw with soft strokes. “Oh, my best boy.” She whispered before peering over at Aemond. “Come here.”

He, without hesitation, walked over and she grabbed his hand. “Gently.” She warned him and placed his hand where hers had been, moving it back and forth gently. “That’s it.”

Cannibal ceased his growling and instead started making soft purring sound as his eyes slowly blinked.

Diana laughed, a sound that made Aemond’s attention drift to her, unable to look away. “He likes you.” She smiled at him. “That settles it, we’ll be uniting our houses, my prince.”

Two years went by quickly, faster than she would had liked. Diana, who had moved herself to King’s Landing to begin her courting period with Aemond, had grown much closer to him. Their first kiss shared in the dragon pit not even a year ago. She had left to take care of a matter in the Vale.

“I’ll be back in time for the audience.” She had told Aemond as they walked together, arms linked. “Don’t miss me too much, my love.”

“I always miss you, my dragon.” Aemond’s eye had glittered with fondness as he reached down to kiss her. His world have filled with so much brightness when you had entered it.

Everything had been normal, no one had breathed a word of your existence to the blacks. Not even blabbermouth Aegon.

The audience was just starting, everyone but Aemond was inside, He was waiting by the doors for his betrothed to return.

Diana rushes in, her white hair trailing behind her and Aemond’s eye trails down to her black and gold dress. “You’re almost late, my love.” He teased, a smile on his lips.

“Hush you! Let;s go.”

“Wait.” Aemond stops you with a frown on his lips now. “Your father is here, we didn’t know he was coming with my sister. We took extra care to not mention you to him but, do you still want to this?”

A vindictive glint entered her eyes as she linked her arms with Aemond’s. “I do, you’ll never let me fall.” She said confidently as Aemond nodded towards the guard.

“Lady Diana Royce-Targaryen, first of her name. The Lady of the Vale.” The guard announced as the door opened. “As well as her betrothed, Prince Aemond Targaryen, first of his name. Future Lord of the Vale.”

Many sets of eyes peered at him, some relieved. Some shocked.

Daemon peered at his newly announced daughter as she entered with the one-eyed prince. She was all him. White hair, purple eyes just like his. But she also had some of that Bronze Bitch in her.

Anger grew in him as well as fear and apprehension. How could he not have been told. She looks not much older than Prince Aemond and Prince Jacaerys.

Diana felt eyes on her and she walked forwards with Aemond, taking her place next to Helaena as she kissed the princesses cheek. “Good afternoon, sister.”

Helaena had smiled at her, relieved before glancing forward and turning away with distress. “He is watching.”

Diana looked up from her place and her purple eyes connected with identical ones across from the room.

She smiled at him, wiggling her fingers at him tauntingly.

I win.

[ryujnn]

► akuma ﾟ｡ ⋆ is there any room for me?

► chapter summary ﾟ｡ ⋆ the past few days of your life we’re unexpected, yet so much fun. people seem to come a lot in your life… and also leave.

► chapter warnings ﾟ｡ ⋆ nsfw. growing sexual tension. cunnilingus (oral — fem receiving). violence. use of weapons. mentions of blood and wounds. mention of murder.

► note ﾟ｡ ⋆ woah… i realized how much potential this story had and just whipped this up and rereading the whole thing. i missed akuma dearly,,

Dear Mom,

Checking out on the party before it had even started — you’d be shocked with the most recent news. You’re missing out on the fun, you know? All the plans we set out are now in motion. And you’re missing it.

But I’m missing you much more.

So much more.

I have so many questions for you. So many I wished I had asked, but I spent that time crying next to your cooling body. Now I’m left questioning myself.

Mommy, am I strong?

Am I still the strongest?

Even if I don’t feel it?

“R…” You opened your mouth, all of the saliva completely dispersing and leaving you stuck with cotton. The smallest step forward and your husband was grabbing your arm, stopping you. You on the other hand was just too shocked to even care. “Rika? Wh… How’d you know where I lived?”

“I followed you.”

Weird. “Um…” You’re trying to mentally piece together how you were gonna crack this one. “How are you alive? I— They captured you, right? That’s what they said.”

“They didn’t catch me.” Her voice is silky and posh. She’s holding herself with such good demeanor, you wouldn’t be able to tell she struggled half her life. “The woman they captured and killed was not me, yet another one of your father’s previous affairs. She threatened to tell the rest of your family members about his adultery and she was hunted down around the time I fled. They just covered my story up with the poor woman who lost her life.”

That’s absolutely heartbreaking. Not necessarily surprising, though. Your family is sick and twisted.

The metaphorical armor wrapped around you dissolved into the air, brushing past the skin on people’s faces. You felt empathetic towards her now.

“I’m not here to hurt you.” She continues, wary of her surroundings. And your husband. “I’m still alive because of my appearance change. They can’t remember what I look like, at least I pray not. I — I returned this morning. Heard your father’s big fight is soon… he had his beloved batch of boys, huh?”

You shook your head slowly, “Nope. Ryou and I will be fighting.”

It was then when you had actually noticed Rika. She was absolutely alluring. The silence was definitely inviting for you to look at her — to examine her. She had her hair cut to her shoulders, a few strands covering her forehead and bringing attention to her doe eyes. The longer she stood there, it was like watching a child. As if she was caught staying up too late when her parents came home.

She wasn’t threatening at all.

“Oh… congratulations,” Rika responds with a small smile, picking nervously at her fingers. She’s clearly spewing thoughts but there’s no way she could get them out of her mouth. “I’m sure you’ve learned a lot from Himari. You will win and change the trajectory of the clan — I know you can. It’s pretty bad, I don’t want another woman to experience what I… we did.”

All that time she’d been standing in front of you, you had forgotten who Rika actually was. What she had been through — and once it all clicked, you couldn’t stop your feet from moving.

You weren’t staring at a threat, you were staring at a survivor.

Escaping the Shio clan, just the hospital alone at that, with a new born baby and taking care of her all on her own with no experience. Starting fresh with no money, nowhere to live and not knowing anyone — yet managing to be alive and well, with a daughter who is in perfect shape.

The power of women.

“I’m sorry.” Are the only words that left your mouth, kicking your heels off in the midst of your walk before stopping in front of Rika, raising your arms to her shoulders and resting on your chin on her bone. “My mother thought you were a trooper. She loved telling me stories about you. You’re like a folklore.”

She returns the hug, giving you a small squeeze. “Am I?” There’s a slight shake in her voice, but she quickly covered it up with a laugh. “I’d rather the attention be on my princess. She’s what kept me going.” She hasn’t hugged anyone other than her daughter, nor has anyone felt sympathetic enough to acknowledge what she had been through. All of this hits Rika like a truck and she’s fighting back the urge to scream up the past twenty something years.

“Thank you.” Rika whispers.

She knows her daughter is good hands — protected by many people now. She knows she’s protected, too. She’s happy now.

The door clicks as it closes, resting backwards against the wood. You sighed softly, bending down to place your heels next to the door, hearing the bathroom door in front of you open.

“How’d it go?” Gojo asks from inside the bathroom, tossing his towel out and onto the floor.

The towel lands slightly ahead of you, rolling your eyes and walking forward to grab it. “Went okay. We had some wine and talked for a bit, she got tired and I let her sleep in my room.”

“I would be too if I were her,” His voice grows closer, alerting you that he’d be in front of you once you stood up. “I mean, it’s weird, right? I wonder why she came back.”

After folding the towel, you held it to your chest and looked ahead of you. All the breath in your lungs halted, stopping you from answering his questions or even responding.

There Gojo Satoru stood — in almost all of his glory. You’d never seen him like this… this close up. The black muscle shirts he wore around the house definitely didn’t give him this much justice; you can see every ripple, scar and crease on his body and it’s absolutely fantasizing. Natural contour and highlight on his skin — you’re almost folding at the sight.

“Uh…” Your voice is a little shaky, you’re so caught up in trying to pretend you’re not warming up from seeing his bare chest. “Yeah. Me too. It’s… weird.”

Gojo looks up from his hands, catching the stutter and sudden shift in your demeanor. He’s got an eyebrow cocked in confusion until it drops and he’s smirking right down at you. This is cute. He’s never seen you like this and now he’s addicted to it.

Speechless, timid and borderline submissive.

“Got somethin’ on your chin there,” His abrupt words cause you to blink hard, forcing your eyes back up go his face. You’re hot — you’re sure that you’re visibly burning up as well. Gojo takes a step forward, causing you to shuffle in spot and he’s enjoying it. “It’s not polite to stare, you know that.”

You’re trying your damn hardest to think of something witty, but your brain isn’t working. If anything, it’s clouded, and you’re not sure what to say without stuttering.

“I just… I noticed some of those scars on your chest and I wanted t-to, uh… just look at them.”

Verrrry convincing.

“You can touch ‘em, sweetheart.”

And so you obliged, reluctantly. Hesitant movements until your bare palm was against your husband’s skin, raising and lowering the stroke to feel every inch of him. There’s a soft shudder under his breath, specifically whenever your fingers brush against newer marks.

All in all, it’s intimate. He’s biting back the urge to grab you by the shoulders and you’re not too far off from begging for it.

Plus, you’ve only got a week. Right?

“Mark your calendars, request time off, set a reminder, and grab your popcorn — watch the Shio Clan’s Generational fight next week, here in this very room.”

Did you want to die being a virgin? Getting married and completing staying celibate, never being able to tell stories to the Shio women up in… whatever heaven was real. They’d talk your head off and call you a disgrace for not trying something so… sexy.

You can just see it now…

(“We saw you down there, married to that hunk of man. Gojo Satoru, right? How was the sex? Oh.. you didn’t have sex? Kiss him at all? No?! What—”)

The thought of going out without at least knowing if he’s a good kisser is making the hair on your arms stand. Maybe it was the wine? You felt like some horny teenager from the movies you watched.

“Would you touch me like this?” You transitioned to dragging a finger down his chest, digging your nail gently over his belly button and following his happy trail.

Right above his boxers.

Gojo pulls his eyebrows together. Is he dreaming? Is his ears playing tricks on him because he’s been wishing to touch you — praying for a moment like this with you? It’s gotta be a dream.

“You want me to touch you?”

Without thinking twice, your hands reached to the zipper behind you. The noise of it unzipping completely catches Gojo’s attention.

Now it’s Gojo’s turn to goggle. He’s gazing at every inch of your body being exposed as the dress fell further and further, and all of a sudden — it’s harder for him to breathe in. Until the fabric pooled at your feet, he’s blinking a lot slower, not wanting to miss a single second.

Normally you’d be extremely self conscious, bare as a stripper for a man you just previously despised. But something about your husband drinking you in like a bottle on the rocks is making your stomach do flips.

And it’s cartwheeling down to your core.

“It’s…” You began, taking a small step forward. “Not polite to stare, Satoru.”

Your husband chuckles, though his voice sounds a bit lower. Even once his eyes raised from your figure to your very own irises, they were way more hooded than before. He’s drinking you up and not missing a damn drop.

One deep breath, Gojo takes the advantage to close the gap between you both. He leans down just slightly, hovering over your height. He’s looking at you like you’re vulnerable, like he’s got the upmost control of you. And at this moment… you swear he does.

The tension is cutting the air with a butcher knife, absolutely murdering it to the point you both don’t know how to breathe anymore. Basic human actions have become tantalizing and you’d both rather drink each other up.

“I can have this thing off in seconds,” Gojo hooks his finger under your bra, tugging you forward by just the slightest. Watching you trip forward, following his moves, even the bounce of your breasts almost had him rolling his eyes back. “Just need to hear you say it, pretty.”

You don’t realize how pathetic or how fast you nodded your head, practically pleading with your eyes, but once Gojo heard those four words leave your tainted lips, he couldn’t help but oblige.

“Please, take it off,” You whisper, batting your mascara coated eyelashes up to the man before you. “Take it all off.”

And what man would Gojo Satoru be if he didn’t keep his word, especially when you asked so politely. Within those last few seconds, your husband closes the gap between you both by pressing his lips against yours. It wasn’t rough, wasn’t forced or rushed — nothing like the kiss you both shared at your wedding.

It wasn’t a goodbye kiss, it was a welcoming kiss. He wasn’t kissing you as if this was your last week on earth, he kissed you as if this was the first day of the rest of your life.

It was intoxicating and addictive, something you never wanted to end.

Once you wrapped your arms around the nape of Gojo’s neck, he reaches down to grab the back of your thighs, lifting you up to his height. Your legs wrapped around his abdomen, securing you around him.

He’s got one hand propped under your ass, holding you up while his other closes the bathroom door behind him, locking it right after.

Whaaaats goin on?

Times moving faster now that you’re having fun, that’s always been something you noticed as a child. Even in this moment, when your husband has you sat on the marble of his bathroom’s countertop, popping your bra off with just one hand, exposing your perky nipples to the brisk air around you, time is moving fast.

His soft, pink lips wrapped around your nipple, sucking and gently tugging at it with the sloppiest and nastiest ‘pop!’ you’ve ever heard — time is moving fast.

Gojo settling onto his knees, two skilled and slender fingers pulling your panties down your thighs, your calves, and then unhooking them from your feet. He’s pushing your legs apart, visibly and audibly falling apart at the sight alone of your glistening, pretty pussy. He swears he saw the light shine off of just how wet you were.

“Fuck..” He whispers, hooking one of your legs over his shoulder. “This okay? I’ll be gentle, I promise.”

You nod,. You’d be damn to admit it, but something about this approval for consent was… sexy. As if he wants you as bad as you want him. Gojo’s asking you for permission.

“Please do something.” Being so bare and vulnerable, all for the man you hated just months ago, had your back arching in attempts to feel something. Anything.

Now you’re begging? Anything else and he might as well bust in his fresh pair of underwear. Gojo promises he’d be gentle… but all he wants to do is shove his face right between your legs and eat you out like it’s the last thing he’d ever do.

Like it’s the last thing he’d ever taste.

He starts slow, licking from your entrance to that little bud that has you twitching, giving it special attention with extra kisses and tugs from his lips. You’re moaning softly, weary of the guest that had been on the other side of the house — nonetheless — you wanted to prevent waking her up and facing your trenched reality.

Your head tilts back, pooring your posture with the slightest buck of your hips. The way your lips press together, fighting back all the noise that threatened to spill from them, it told your husband everything he needed to know.

He was making you feel good.

His tongue flicked at your sensitive bud faster, and his two skillful fingers plunged in and out of your soaking sex, causing wet noises to echo in the halls of Gojo’s bathroom. It sounded absolutely pornogrophic, something straight off the web. This is every man’s dream.

“Taste amazing, baby.” Gojo mumbles under you, tongue out and flat on your pussy. He’s curling his tongue ever so often, catching your eyes and simply grinning at that expression you have.

The look and the smile was just too much for you. He’s clear of the affect he has on you, he’s bathing in it.

Gojo’s forgotten to control himself and now he’s slurping and sucking, licking and lapping up everything you have to offer. Like he’s a dog. The warm feeling between your legs began to grow out to your thighs and your lower stomach, and the better it felt, the more you wanted to push your husband from between your legs.

Gojo doesn’t seem to let up soon. He’s blowing bubbles with his spit on your clit and using his tongue to spread it around. How slutty would it be to cum for the first time … ever … on your husbands face?

“Mmmf — Satoru…” It was a warning call. Your significantly smaller hand reached forward to grab at his soft, milky white and wet hair. The smallest tug got a noise out of him, snapping him out of his completely pussy drunken state of mind and back up to you. “Think ‘m…,” You chuckle breathlessly. “think I’m about to...”

He chuckles between your legs, pulling away for the slightest second and smiling his pearlies right up at you — with a wet smile. “Give it t’me,” Dipping his head between your legs again, aiming straight for your clit. “Make a fucking mess, sweetheart.”

And like the perfect wife that you are, or tend to be, you give his roots one more tug before using your other to grip beside you, mumbling out a string of praises to the God’s above you, before you, and even the one between your legs. Spasming with Gojo’s head between your legs, that warm feeling snapping out of your stomach and crashing over you like a category four hurricane.

Satoru assists you, rubbing your clit with the fat of his tongue all the while fucking his fingers in and out of you, bettering your high. Slowing his movements once your body began to come down; making it all more pleasurable for you.

There’s no way that just happened.

“Fuck…”

“Damn right.” Gojo chuckles, blowing soft air against your swollen and sensitive pussy. He used his thumb to clean his mouth, popping it in and licking the etcetera from the pad of his finger.

He’s up on his feet, still watching you recover from the only yet best orgasm you’ve ever had in your life. Another quick laugh before he steps forward and cups your soft jaw into his hands.

“That feel good?” He asks, more out of curiosity rather than a boost to his ego.

It was nice seeing him like that. Domestic. Vulnerable. He’s always on his toes and doesn’t ever let anyone in — so this… this was nice.

All you do in return was nod and smile, tossing your arms over his shoulders once more and burying your head into his chest. “Mhm.”

“Let’s go shower then.”

“Up and atom!”

A bold voice, one that wasn’t your husbands, woke you up from your sleep. You stirred lightly, peeking one of your eyes open to not only see one person — but several people standing in your husband’s bedroom.

You remember falling asleep with Gojo resting on your back and your head under the pillow, and now that you’ve reached your arm to locate him; he’s not next to you anymore.

“Where…”

“Mornin’ angel.” There’s that familiar voice. That voice that’s given you comfort and a sense of safety.

Oddly enough, you were okay with it.

You huffed, pushing up from the bed to turn and identify whoever had been in this bedroom so early. It was half the damn school, you could say.

“Time to get up, Y/N!” Panda smiles, two fists sturdy on his hips. “We heard you have a week to experience some fun, so we’re gonna spend the next seven days together!”

Seven days?!

You jump up, completely facing the people in the room. Nanami and Gojo are in the corner, small smiles on their face — this is obviously something they planned… while the students were standing around your bed.

Megumi, Panda, Inumaki and Maki — even the two new students that’s working with Gojo; Itadori and Nobara.

You rub your eyes, brushing your hair behind your ears. “Thanks, guys, but you don’t have to waste a week on me.”

Maki gasp, Inumaki also adding a head shake at your response.

“We’re not wasting a week, Shio—sensei,” Megumi sits on the foot of the bed, sending you a soft look. “Everyone cares about you. We want to make sure you have a nice week.”

Nobara and Itadori share a look. They’ve never seen Megumi act so caring, even if he expressed it with a straight face.

You only had small interactions with Megumi, but considering he didn’t have much family left, everything you did within the span of knowing him meant a lot.

Even if it was bringing him lunch, scolding Gojo for him, helping him inside or outside of school. The small things built up and he can’t imagine seeing anything happen to you.

“Yeah,” Maki is trying to contain her excitement. She’s got her hands behind her back, fighting a smile. “Plus, we’re gonna incorporate fighting into the stuff we’re doing! Building muscles while creating memories.”

This is odd to you, foreign even. You’ve never had someone care about you, cared if you lived or died — and now these people want to give you a week to remember, encouraging you to spend your possibly last week alive wisely, with them, while having as much fun as possible.

You look over to Gojo, who’s got this smile on his face, one that hasn’t budged since he’s seen you wake up in his shirt; and then back to the kids. This is what it feels like to be wanted. Not just by your mother, but by everyone.

Now you’ve got to fight back tears. You haven’t cried since the death of your mother, and the overwhelming feeling of actively being appreciated by people is starting to jab at you.

No crying. Not yet.

You answered all the kids questions, settled all their anxiety and calmed their nerves with a smile. That bright, beaming smile that your mother loved and the one your husband is falling in love with. The smile everyone recognizes; the smile that pops into people’s head when your name is mentioned.

“Thank you guys,” You sit straight up on the bed. “I appreciate it. Let’s have the best week ever, okay?”

All the students smiled and nodded in unison.

“So, what’s on the agenda for today?”

Itadori smiles and throws a fist into the air, “Baseball!” He’s ecstatic, and you could make a wild guess that this was his idea. “That’s okay, right?”

You laugh, reinsuring Itadori once more. “I love baseball, and I’m kinda good at it,” You share a smile with the boy, hearing different reactions at the new information about the sport. “How about after, we come back and have a sleepover?”

That gets another rise. Everyone looks excited, partially for Megumi (he hates sleeping around Itadori) but aside from his little pout, the rest of the students agree to having a night over their teachers house.

Nanami pushes off the wall, clapping his hands together to gather the kids attention. “Okay, let’s give Shio some time to get ready. You all can help me load the bus back up.”

Following instructions, everyone except Gojo trotted out of the room, shutting the door behind them. Now it was silent and homey, resulting in your husband walking over to you with a small grin.

He crawls onto the end of the bed, sitting back on his legs in front of you. “Hi.” One word with his gentle smile and you’re grinning back.

“Hi.” You respond, reaching forward to grab his hands. You fiddled with them nervously, twirling his wedding ring around his finger. “Did you do all of this?”

“Not all. I told them your big fight was next week and they came up with all the ideas, I just found a way to make it all happen.”

You pushed your bottom lip out, climbing up from the duvet to his height, tossing your arms around his neck. This was a feeling Gojo could get used to, one he wanted to feel every moment and every second of his life. He wraps his arms around your waist and snuggles you back.

“Thank you, ‘Toru.”

He grins once more, giving your body a small squeeze. “Don’t thank me yet.”

A baseball game without your brother intervening? Sounds like a plan to you.

There were two separate teams; Your team and Gojo’s. A friendly fire between the couple who had an arranged marriage but is now starting to fall for one another — doesn’t sound scary at all.

You’d assume they’d take baseball seriously, like there was a grand prize at the end, but they weren’t. Everyone was having a good time, playing for experience and to grow, and thankfully there was no jujutsu power allowed.

The entirety of this game you’d been… laughing.

Smiling and laughing at the antics of the children you were working with. Giggling with the other teachers when Gojo grew red over the fact that his team was losing. Even moments like this where a fight needed to be broken up.

“Hold on!” Nobara shoves her hat onto the ground, pointing to the girl in front of her as she made her way over.

Nobara likes a fair game, what she didn’t like was Mai bringing a pitch machine to protect her fresh manicure. Itadori and Panda are the first to get up, walking over to catch Nobara before she gets to Mai. “Kugisaki’s snapped!” They warned. “It’s a free-for-all!”

Considering she was on your team, you followed behind the other students to calm the issue as the adult that you were.

“Alright,” You walk between both girls, facing Nobara to quickly calm her. “You’re a good batter. You can hit these even without machine, let’s just try it, okay?”

Nobara sends another threatening look to Mai before huffing and turning around to walk away. You chase after her, bending down to whisper one more thing into her ear.

“Bet she sucks anyway.” You cup your hands around your mouth so no one else hears what you said but Nobara.

And the game continued peacefully. The pitching machine was ditched after being beaten up by someone (Nobara ‘accidentally’ hit the ball into) and everything was now going fairly.

The energy overall felt like a highschool game, it was fun, quick and a bunch of dirty talk had been spit from one team to the other. Granted, it wasn’t anything harmful. Aside from another student getting swatted upside the head with a ball, the experience was great to you!

And once the sun began to set, everyone declared the game over.

All except one.

“Last bat,” Gojo walks up to you, flipping the bat so that the handle faced you. “I’ll pitch.”

You perused your lips, accepting the bat from him. You’ve never batted in front of anyone, only your mother, considering your brother would always swoop in and take the attention.

It was like you were a child again.

“Okay!” You smile, jumping up once before making your way over to the correct base.

“You got this, Shio-sensei!”

“Beat Gojo-sensei!”

You chuckled under your breath, spreading both legs and tapping the bat onto the home plate. Gojo sends you a look, asking if you’re ready, and you respond with a nod and the prettiest smile he’s ever seen.

The dim of the sky kissing your skin, the smile he’s seen all day is becoming a drug to him and as each second passed, he watched you grow more and more happy. More excited.

That’s until he raises his arm and leg, ready to pitch, and he see’s your face drop. A mix of fear, shock and confusion decorates your face and he no longer sees his happy wife, he doesn’t see a carefree woman bandaging her inner child anymore —

he sees twelve year old you.

He sees the child who’s spotlight got taken from her.

By her bastard of a brother.

Gojo drops the ball and quickly flips his infinity back on. He doesn’t turn around, he knows he’s safe, and he keeps his eyes on you and the students to assure your safety as well.

“Ryou.” Is all your husband says, crossing his arms over his chest. He won’t give him the satisfaction of a look, he’s got more important things on his mind right now.

Your brother laughs behind him, taking a small step beside him. He’s only got his eye on the prize; you. “Hey there, brother-in-law,” Ryou shoves his hands into his pockets. “Think I got her good, huh? Did’ya see her face? She went all…” He mimics your reaction, dramatically frowning and pretending to claw his eyes out.

“Who is that?” You hear one of the students whisper, and then you’re suddenly snapped back into reality.

You sniffle, wiping your sweaty palms on your jeans. You’d be stupid to turn your back, but your brother would be much more of an idiot to try to attack you when you’re not looking and your husband’s right beside him.

You turn to face the students, squatting down to catch their attention and block your brother from their view. “He’s not important, okay?” You ask, which they all nodded in return. “He’s a dangerous guy, so Gojo’s going to take you all back inside and then we can get home in time for the sleepover, right?”

You asked Rika to set up the sleepover and pick out some snacks for everyone. You even offered her to invite her daughter since she and the students were around the same age — that way if they decide to stay, she’d have a few friends.

Now, the only plan was to make it home.

Once you pushed up from your feet, you began to make way to your husband. What a fearful sight to see and an awful predicament to be in. You could be killed at any second if it was up to Ryou.

“Go.”

One word that held so much power. You stood just a few steps from your husband, you knew if you got too close that he’d be a superhero.

But this isn’t his battle to fight.

He doesn’t budge whatsoever, he looks at you like you’re playing a joke and even dazzles a smile at you, proving his point further.

He’s not going anywhere without you.

“I mean it, Satoru,” You couldn’t say too much, not without giving away too much information and endangering multiple lives. “Please… let me handle this.”

Now he’s reading you. Gojo frowns his eyebrows before beginning his path to the students. He stops besides you, making sure too keep his eyes on the kids in front of him while you kept track of your brother.

“You don’t die today.”

You couldn’t help but smile slowly, “Yes sir.”

The crucial next seconds of silence could’ve been your cause of death, but once the gate to the kids shut closed and you knew the people you loved and cared for were behind protection.

You didn’t hesitate.

You reached your arm back, looking over to the gate once more and starting a fire at it. It wasn’t too big that they couldn’t see, but it was big enough to risk a good third degree burn if they’d try to escape.

“Oo, where’d you learn that?”

Now your eyes are on your brothers, orbs battling for dominance. “Easy,” You’re stalling for the right moment, now starting to pace around your brother, keeping a large distance between you two. “But, I’m sure it comes naturally to you. You don’t even need to try, huh?”

Ryou chuckles. “You’ve gotten smarter too.” He’s starting to pick up on the pacing, and part of him is nervous. He’s never seen such a side from you, you’ve always been obedient, never one to pick a fight.

What was going on today?

Ryou meets you half way and bumps into you, ruining your pattern of a circle, grabbing your shirt to keep you still.

“What’s this?” He asks, practically snarling at you. That cocky, annoying smile never dropping from his lips. “Trying to show off for your husband and a few amateur sorcerers? You can do better.”

You’re way to nervous to physically harm this man, that could go left and you’d be injured before the big fight. Possibly killed. So you opt for your power, pushing a hand forward, manipulating the air around you to ball up and shove into his stomach, sending him tumbling.

You took a few steps back, enough space to look up and check the moon shining down at you. You’re not mentally ready to brawl with your brother. You’re not ready to die yet.

“Ryou…” You began. Instant regret.

He straightens himself back up before making his way over to you, a grin on his lips. “Shouldn’t have done that, cheeky.”

And before you know it, the same method is returned to you, except the pain is tripled and you’re being sent back flying, your back slamming against the gravel on the ground.

You could feel each piece of gravel, rock and grain of sand pierce your skin. The wind was knocked from your lungs to your head, blacking your vision for a second.

“Shio-Sensei!” You hear one of the students cry out.

Something about hearing someone call for you… strangely made you want to get back up. When your brothers around, no one roots for you. No one cares about you — or even notices you. Not when the Star of Africa is near.

But right now… at this moment… they’re rooting for you. Everyone behind that stray of fire, blocked by a gate, watching two siblings fight one another.

They’re calling for you. They’re supporting you.

“Shio-Sensei, please!”

The sound of cracking fire protecting those innocent kids — along with the calls for your name. You’re up. You’re on your feet. This adrenaline was perfect.

“That…” You began, brushing your hands on your clothes and cleaning yourself from the dust. “Was weak.”

Another boost: the face your brother makes when he’s bitched at for the first time. He realizes that no one’s on his side here… his daddy isn’t here to boost him either… he’s alone now.

He’s in your shoes.

“What did you say to me?” Ryou’s fuming, you can smell it. From the smoke coming out of his ears to the ground he’s shaking under him. Pure, firey, rage.

In return, all you can do is smile endearingly and stretch your arm out beside you, hands empty. “I said that was,” For a split second, you only had one chance to prove yourself. You ignored your consciousness and the energy around you. Within seconds, your mind flatlines and there’s a ringing in your ear for a millisecond.

For just a quick second, earth around you had disappeared.

Then reappeared.

After the quick moment of focus, you look over to your stretched out arm — and in your hand is a sword. Hah, take that Nanami. Manipulating space isn’t as hard as it sounds.

Not giving a moment for Ryou to blink, your swinging your armed hand towards your brother — tossing the sword over to catch in your other hand and switch positions before he could retaliate.

“Weak.” You finish, huffing a breath.

Your students are behind the cage jumping and clapping, watching their teacher in action — amazed at what they see. Your husband on the other hand is trembling in his shoes.

He could easily get past the fire, and his plan was to intervene when need be. He knows you can handle your own and defend yourself — but he also knows that you’re fighting off of rage right now, and your movements and thinking process is sloppy and clouded.

He doesn’t want to step in too late, but he also doesn’t want to jump to the rescue and portray you as weak.

Ryou on the other hand takes a small step back. His phone begins ringing in his basketball shorts, and he’s quick to grab the device and answer it.

And as he listens to the recipient speak, he looks down at his chest. He couldn’t ignore the oozing feeling in his chest. His skin grew hotter by the second, and the dust particles kissed his wounds as the wind blew them around.

One massive slash across his chest. The blade was so sharp that it cut past his clothes and skin, resulting in a pretty bad leak. He’s shocked with himself for missing such a lousy attack — more so, his sister was the one to do it.

No words were exchanged for the twelve second call. Ryou simply ends the call and returns his phone into his pocket. Raises his gaze from the gash to your eyes and lets out a chuckle. A bitter yet cocky laugh. As if he was still laughing at you.

“You know,” Your brother looks up to the sky, the waning gibbous shining above. “I think we’ll plan your funeral a little more organized than mom’s.”

Weak. It doesn’t really affect you, Ryou’s never been ‘momma’s boy’. More of a spoiled brat. The anger he wanted out of you wasn’t granted, it made you yawn. You just insulted your brother, twice, and gave him a remarkable wound on his chest… and he’s not fighting back.

He’s stalling.

“Not on your game today?” You’re focusing your energy into your arm, manipulating the air around you to forcefully stick your sword onto the ground. “It’s mediocre, everything you’re saying. How’s that gash, though?”

“I can barely feel it.” Ryou’s quick to respond, “Just thought you’d want to know. You’d have the best funeral out of the three, I’m sure of it.”

Three? You try your hardest not to visibly be confused, but your brother already see’s you doing the math in your head. One, your mother. Metaphorically, two would be you.

There wouldn’t be a third.

Maybe your brothers sick. He’s been talking out of the ass for the past few minuets and keeping up with him is slightly throwing you off your game. He’s absolutely stalling.

“Three? Can you even co—” Oh. “Count…” All of the green of envy and revenge on your face had melted, returning you back to your normal state. Afraid and scared.

“G—…” You’re stumbling backwards, still keeping an eye on your brother. “Gojo!!”

As soon as he saw your state change, he was itching to get across the gate. All he needed to hear was your voice. Your plea. In seconds he’s by your side, turning you to face him. You’re not afraid of Ryou sneaking up, you’re not afraid of anyone’s safety with your husband being here.

Except Rika.

“I need… we need to go home, now.” Your panicking, your hands have began trembling and the nerves in your body are shot.

Gojo’s looking at you, trying to read whatever you’re trying to get at, but he’s just as confused as you were earlier. Without even moving his head, your husband can just feel the devious smile on Ryou’s face. This is the reaction he wanted out of you, it’s what he wanted to see with his own eyes — live!

“What’s going on?” Gojo asks.

“…Rika.”

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[soubi122]

How Long? Part 2

Ranxreader.

Warnings: Cheating, alcohol, toxic Ran, smut, suggestive, angst, mentions of murder, murder, slightly graphic description of murder, hurt to comfort and fluff No Minors please, MDNI!

Enjoy my loves!

Part 1

***the next morning***

Ran returned home sometime in the morning, expecting to see you balled up on the couch or in bed but he was met with silence and emptiness. “(Y/N)?” He called out while stumbling from room to room, his vision was blurry and everything looked to be in place, including your car keys. He figured you’d gone out for a walk or something and would be back later - of course, you couldn’t live without him. Ran passed out on the couch without a second thought of your whereabouts. Hours later, he was woken up by the sound of the front door opening, he lazily got up to see Rindou standing in the doorway. “What are you doing here? Where’s (Y/N)?” He asked while rubbing his eyes and yawning. “I’m surprised she didn’t change the locks or try to kill you.” Rindou says while smirking. He was only coming in to check and make sure that you didn’t murder Ran, the rage in your eyes had him worried for his older brother. By 10:00 p.m., you still hadn’t come home and Ran was beginning to lose his patience. Fine…she wants to act like a brat? Fuck it. He thinks and decides to shower now that he sobered up. 

When rummaging through his drawer for clean clothes - he noticed that your nightstand drawer was left open. Ran peered into the drawer, your cellphone was there and he noticed that several items were missing. She didn’t… He began to go through all your drawers, your clothes and beloved items were all there. However, when he opened the safe in the closet - your birth certificate and government documents were gone. Panic started to set in when he realized that you weren’t coming back. Mostly because of what Mikey might say. If you fled, he would have no choice but to treat you like a traitor. He immediately got dressed and began to look for you at any place where you could possibly be. He spent the next three days looking for you, there was no trace of you anywhere. 

“How the fuck did you lose track of her?” Kokonoi yelled at Ran, they all gathered at his home and were surprised that you fled. They thought you were smarter than that - did you really think that you could outrun Bonten? “Mikey’s gonna have her head when he finds out…” Sanzu said while loading his gun’s clip. He was prepared to follow the King’s orders, even if it meant killing someone he was once close to. “You just couldn’t keep your dick to yourself.” Kakucho chimed in and scolded Ran - though he was the youngest, he was the most level headed and most responsible. 

Several weeks passed, Bonten couldn't find you and Ran was feeling the effect of your absence. Mornings were cold without you. There was no longer anyone to take care of him when he came home bloody and bruised. There was no one to provide him love and adoration, there was no one who gave him the warmth he seeked in an empty bed and he was left to vices. He’s been through dozens of relationships, dozens of women and dozens of breakups - why was this one feeling any different? Oh right, you were his fiance - he’s the one that proposed to you. He made the choice to keep you by his side. He's the one that fell head over heels first and the first to suggest you move in together. He made the first moves though you asked him for more time - you gave into him. You surrendered everything to him, and he knew that he meant the world to you. He was given everything, but all he gave back were material things that have no value in love. 

The sound of his cell phone going off snapped him out of his thoughts. He didn’t bother to look at the caller ID and answered with a hum. “Have you seen the news?” Takeomi’s voice was laced with concern. “No. Why? Did Sanzu get arrested or something?” Ran was not prepared for the next words that rolled off Takeomi’s tongue…

Within minutes all Bonten members met at Mikey’s office. Everyone was trying to figure out what the hell happened, how it happened and when it happened. “The cops have a positive ID, it’s her. They have yet to release her information to the press.” Ran had lost all color in his face and he felt like he was about to throw up. Kokonoi had the tv on with the news airing:

Local police found the body of a young woman at the bottom of a lake yesterday morning. A group of teenagers went swimming in the area and reported the body. They were engaging in a popular challenge, the challenge was who could reach the bottom of the lake and retrieve any lost valuables. Unfortunately, they found more than what they bargained for when they opened the zipper of the duffle bag. Police were notified immediately and when the divers were sent to investigate - they confirmed that the bag held the body of a woman. We will be updating this story with more information as the police try to identify the body.

The cops that Bonten had on their payroll notified Kokonoi and Kakucho immediately when they received the detailed report and suspected that it could have been Ran’s missing fiance. They sent a picture of the engagement ring taken from the corpse. There was speculation that you were kidnapped off the streets or that someone was following you that night at the bar. The guilt was gnawing away at Ran. Within hours of the news airing, someone in the police department leaked information to the media. 

A shocking new development regarding the body of the young woman that was found in the lake yesterday morning. Police now confirmed that the duffle bag was weighted with cinder blocks and the woman suffered a gunshot wound to her head. Her hands and feet were bound, this looks to have been a personal affair - the organized crime unit suspects that the woman was targeted due to her involvement with a major gang. The victim was [x] year old (L/N) (Y/N), if anyone has any information - please contact [x] Police Department. 

“Mikey, I need to retrieve (Y/N)’s body…I can’t just leave her in that freezer.” Ran said as he pinched the bridge of his nose. Everyone understood Ran’s position, even though he brought this upon himself, it would be cruel to leave your body there. “No…” Mikey’s response shocked everyone, they figured he would allow Ran this favor as he too was fond of you. “Boss?” Rindou asked as he was stunned at Mikey's response. His expression was empty, there was no trace of sorrow or even empathy for his fellow member. “Mikey, we can’t just leave-” Ran began to protest when he was cut off by Mikey’s words. “As long as they don’t connect her to us, she’s no longer our concern. I guess she really couldn’t live without you…” His words were cold. It reminded Ran of his last words to you on that ill fated day. The day he single handedly destroyed you and his relationship. There was no use in arguing with him about this, his words were final. “She was your friend too Mikey…” Kokonoi said as he prepared for the aftermath of your death. Bonten was not allowed to visit the morgue to retrieve the body - it was a huge risk. As this was treated as a homicide, anyone who would come forward with information would be treated as a suspect. 

Ran found himself clutching to your pillow at night, tracing his fingers over your face in photos, he refused to throw out your belongings. Even though he knew you were gone forever, he kept your perfumes, your makeup, your body wash - anything that gave off your scent. He was even more upset when he couldn’t even retrieve the engagement ring from the evidence locker at the police station. He tried drowning himself in alcohol to cope with your loss. What started off with taking Rindou out to drown his sorrows, ended up with Ran drowning in sorrow and regret. You were supposed to stick with him, to beg him, to stroke his ego and tell him how much you loved him. You were supposed to forgive him, he was to have you wrapped around his finger. He wasn’t expecting for you to get up and leave. He wasn’t expecting for you to die. Love is a two way street - but Ran realized it a little too late.

He was relieved of any missions until further notice, Mikey allowed him to take time off to grieve - without a leveled head, he was a risk to Bonten. He was wallowing in self pity. How could you leave him? He would wake up in cold sweats, reaching out to your side of the bed - expecting to feel a warm body that would embrace him and erase his guilt. Instead, he was met with emptiness - your side of the bed was cold, your faint scent lingered on the pillow but you were gone. Ran thought he was going mad when he drunkenly called out your name one night and thought he had heard your voice call out to him. 

Anything having to do with your case - it was kept clear from Bonten. Mikey made it clear to everyone, including the underlings, to steer clear of the case unless they wanted a bullet to their temple. No questions were to be asked, no internal investigation was to be made and Ran was not allowed to conduct his own independent investigation. He was solely responsible for your murder and Mikey made sure to remind him of that. The case went cold, there were absolutely no leads that could have pointed the authorities in the right direction. 

***3 years later***

Bonten moved on, as did Ran - it took time but he finally put your ghost behind him. He was forced to throw out your belongings, it wasn't healthy to cling on to a dead woman's items - they were of no use to you anymore. There were multiple women that have come and gone but none filled the void in his heart. Business continued as usual with stacks of body bags and stacks of money - but Bonten was still empty of the warmth you provided them. 

One afternoon Ran was in his office when an underling stumbled in, the poor guy was sweating, pale and out of breath. “S-sir…Y-you're not going to b-believe me…s-she's alive!” Ran couldn't understand what the guy was talking about. "Are you high or something? What the fuck are you going on about?" At this point Ran was on his feet walking towards the man, he was starting to think that Sanzu drugged the guy for shits and giggles. The underling started pacing back and forth, his hands were shaking and he just couldn't stop stuttering. “I-I thought I was hallucinating. But s-she's alive- I didn't think it was p-possible! The news c-c-confirmed her ID.” He began to rant as he paced. It was making Ran uneasy, there was no way he could be referring to you…right? 

“Where did you see her?” Ran asked while balling up his fists, if this was some kind of sick joke - he will kill the guy for it. The underling pulled out his phone and showed him the picture of a model, she looked nothing like you. The model was at a cafe and was posing for what looked to be a brunch with friends. Ran pulled his gun out immediately and put it against the man's forehead. “B-Boss! Wait - look a-at the woman in the b-background!” The man pleaded and pointed at his phone. Ran's eyes scanned the image and took a closer look at the photo - when his eyes landed on the woman in the background, he felt faint. This morning’s breakfast was starting to come back up. In the image there was a woman at a slight distance standing behind the model - it was a side profile view and she looked exactly like you. She looked like a waitress at the cafe. There were subtle differences but it was you - you were alive. Ran almost crushed the phone in his hands, you faked your death for 3 years and outwitted Bonten. 

Within minutes he stormed out of his office and booked a plane ticket without telling anyone. There was no movement in credit cards or bank accounts for weeks, months, or even a year to indicate that you flew out of Tokyo, let alone the country or to even indicate that you were alive. Where did you get the money to just leave everything behind? “Where is he going?” Kokonoi asked when he saw Ran’s car pull out of the parking lot like a bat out of hell. Everyone shrugged their shoulders but the moment the underling walked out of Ran's office, he was grilled by the admins and executives. “I found (Y/N)…” He said with a hopeful look on his face. Their puzzled faces had the man on edge, they were warned not to say your name in Ran's presence but this was a huge revelation. One that solved Bonten's problems and one that would finally give Ran Haitani closure. He was met with an immediate response from Rindou, “You sent my brother on some fucking wild goose chase? She's fucking gone!” The rage in his voice made the man shrink down into the desk. He thought this would have been a great thing for Bonten, to find you. “Is this not good news for us? I thought (Y/N)-” The man couldn’t finish his explanation when he was met with a bullet to the head. Everyone flinched and turned around, who other than Sanzu was crazy enough to set a gun off indoors?

Mikey was standing in the doorway with his gun in hand, there was no warning - he ended the man’s life without a second thought. “I warned everyone about saying her name…or about looking into her death…” Everyone shuddered at the tone in his voice. “Where is Ran?” No one knew, but when Mikey grabbed the guy's cell phone and saw the image - his heart sank. 

Ran packed a few things and immediately went to the airport to catch the next available flight to Wakkanai (Hokkaido). When he reached the island, he immediately booked a hotel room north of the city. It gave him a starting point for his search, it would be easy to avoid passing by the same areas over and over again. His cell phone was constantly blowing up with calls, angry texts and voicemails left by Rindou and Kokonoi. It was an abrupt decision that made everyone concerned. 

Are you fucking kidding me? You’re going on a whim over some grunt that barely knew (y/n)? Do you have any idea how fucking stupid you look right now? She’s dead…let it go Ran!

End Message

Rindou’s message came off callous and cruel but it was the truth. Ran made a rash decision, he had no idea if you were actually there or if you were alive. The woman in the background of the image only looked like you but to Ran - it was you. The photo was taken only a few months ago so he was taking a shot in the dark. What if it was just a stranger who resembles you, nothing more? The worst part was having to deal with the aftermath of Mikey’s wrath when he returns to Tokyo. After checking into the hotel, he immediately went down to the concierge desk and asked about all the cafes located on this side of the island. He was given a map by the receptionist and she highlighted areas where popular cafes were located. “Please let us know if there is anything else we can assist you with.” The woman at the reception desk said while batting her eyelashes at him. Ran Haitani carried more than just his threatening presence, he still carried that god damn handsome face…

Before the end of the night he received a call, a call that made his blood run cold - it was Mikey with a warning. “She doesn’t want to see you nor be found, leave the island and come back to Tokyo.” It hit him like a ton of bricks. Mikey knew you were alive? Ran’s brain was short circuiting as pieces were starting to fall in place - why Mikey refused to conduct an external investigation regarding your death and why he was so cold about the whole ordeal. Ran just thought it was to keep the heat off of Bonten. “Boss…you knew?” His voice was almost a whisper. Could he really blame you? The only other person who didn’t indulge in Ran’s infidelity was Mikey, he was the only other person you could have confided in. But what hurts the most is that for three years Ran suffered, he was seen at his worst and Mikey let him fall. “Does it make a difference? You did this to yourself Haitani…” With that Mikey ended the call. The stinging in his chest wouldn’t stop - for you to go that far…?

Throughout the upcoming days Ran roamed the streets highlighted on the map. He was desperately trying to find any trace of you. Everywhere he looked, he failed - he asked locals about you - even showed them old pictures of you. He was six days in and still couldn’t find you. He was desperate, so he reached out to the model to ask her for the name of the cafe she visited in the photo. It took a few days but she finally replied and let him know the name of the place. It was a cafe on the very edge of the island. You really went to the farthest point to hide away. The following day, he got up early, showered, got ready and made his way to that little cafe by the edge of the city. He was running lines over and over in his head to try and figure out what to say to you - he was trying to keep his emotions in control. When he arrived at the small cafe, he parked his rental half a block away across the street. It looks like the place wasn’t open yet. It was 8:00 a.m. and he was sitting in the rental, patiently waiting for someone to stop by or at least open up the cafe to ask about your whereabouts. By 8:30 a.m., he noticed a woman approach the building and begin to unlock the front doors. It was you…you stood taller and confident. The smile on your face broke his heart even more, you used to smile at him that way every morning…

He thought the steering wheel was going to crack with how hard his hands were gripping it. There was an overwhelming sense of anger and longing. Ran struggled to get out of the car, you were alone and this would be the perfect time to try and talk to you without any interruptions. But what if you refused to see him? What if you kick him out or call the cops? His stomach was in turmoil. You’re one of Japan’s most feared men…why the fuck are you acting like such a little bitch?! The voice in his head screams at him. Finally, he sucked in a sharp breath and exhaled - trying to relax himself before stepping out of the car. The closer he got to the building the more he felt his legs start to give out from the anxiety building up in the pit of his stomach. When he reached the front door, he gently pushed it open - the bell that hung at the top of the door jingled. He froze in place, he was trying to slip in without you noticing but was too anxious to notice the bell on the door. From the back of the cafe your sweet voice called out, “I’ll be with you in a minute, please take a seat at any table.” Ran didn’t respond, instead - he locked the door and flipped the handwritten “Open” sign on the door so that it read “Closed”. 

He slowly walked towards the back of the cafe, his hands were trembling and felt a knot in his throat. His breathing was shaky and he felt like he was going to pass out. When he reached the back of the cafe, there you were in the little kitchen, you didn’t notice him. You were putting a few bakery items on a tray, prepping for the morning rush he assumes. The midi skirt you were wearing had his eyes trailing up your legs, to your hips, to the small of your back, to your shoulders and finally to your face when you turned around. You gasped and dropped the tray, the look of horror on your face made him flinch. “...you’re alive…?” Ran’s words barely left his lips when you immediately dashed to the other side of the kitchen and tried to escape out the back door. But of course he was just as fast to react and with those long legs of his - he was able to catch you right before your hand reached the doorknob. “Let go of me!” You screamed and thrashed around in his hold. He was struggling to handle you, before you were easy to overpower but now you were holding your own. 

Ran’s grip on you tightened and he pulled you in, burying his face into your neck, you felt as if you were suffocating. “My love…” His voice cracked when he buried his face deeper, you could feel his breath on your skin and warm wet tears. Was he…crying? Your body tensed when he pulled away and cupped your face with both hands, for the first time in your life, you saw Ran Haitani cry. “(Y/N)...” You tried to back away but the desperation in Ran made him react immediately. You found yourself pinned against the wall, his body held you in place - you felt your world shatter in an instant when your eyes met his. Those beautiful lilac eyes were glossy, red and drowning you with all sorts of emotions. “Leave…” Your words were a whisper as you felt his poison begin to seep into your skin. His scent, his warmth, his touch - it made your chest hurt. You struggled for two years trying to forget him, his touch was etched into your skin and you scrubbed your skin almost raw every night to try and erase him. It was painful. “Please…” He said as his face inched closer, it was too close - out of panic you tried to knee him and he doubled over in reflex, giving you a chance to free yourself from his hold. You made a break for the front door, you were so close but Ran reached for your ankle mid run and made you trip on to the floor behind the counter, the impact almost knocked the wind out of you. You were wearing his patience out - he was starting to feel anger with each and every attempt of yours for escape. Did you resent him so much that you didn’t want to hear anything he had to say?

He pulled you down to him by your ankle, ultimately straddling you and caging you underneath him. “People will come any minute…” You spat trying to get him to leave, if anyone found out of your connection to Bonten - Mikey will kill you for real this time. “No one's coming darling…the door is locked and your cute little 'Open' sign was flipped.” The smirk on his face made you feel sick, you shouldn't feel anything for him but that tiny fragment of Ran Haitani remained in your heart. It was bittersweet, as much as you hated him, you couldn't deny that the tone in his voice made an ache between your legs. “...Ran-” You began to say but stopped yourself, there is no reason as to why you needed to explain your actions. Hearing you say his name made warmth build up in the pit of his stomach. “How long…?” He asked while cupping your cheek. “How long did Mikey know about your 'death'?” Ran’s voice was low and it made a shiver run up your spine. You didn't answer, you only looked away, it's best that you didn't get Mikey involved in this any further. “Look at me!” He yelled at you and made you flinch. Ran was trying to be as patient as possible but you were not making this easy for him. Your tears began to cloud your vision as you tried to find the words to say, but the anger was building up inside you too. He shouldn’t have a hold on you anymore, yet he’s making you shrink back down. The moment you looked up at him, he could see the fire in your eyes - it was all new to him. Not once have you ever glared at him or looked at him with such hatred or resentment - except for that night you caught him. You were shambles again. 

“I-” You began when you heard a knock against the front window. Someone was trying to verify if the cafe was open as the hours were listed on one of the windows and of course it was strange that the place was closed when it’s supposed to be open. Ran immediately placed his hand over your mouth and you furrowed your eyebrows, there was no way you would even try and call for help. You knew better than to rustle Bonten’s feathers. He took a peek over the counter and saw two people waiting outside, luckily the lights weren’t on in the front of the cafe so they couldn’t see inside that well and couldn’t spot Ran’s purple hair peek from behind the counter. He was waiting for them to leave so that if you did decide to make any loud noises, they wouldn't be heard. The view of him on top of you was making your heart pound uncontrollably in your chest. He hasn’t changed…he still looks as devilish and handsome as before, his poison was starting to affect your state of mind. Don’t…don’t let him back in your life… Your brain was screaming at you - trying to warn you and keep you from breaking, but your heart couldn’t help it. Your body let go and you screwed your eyes shut, hoping that he wouldn't notice how you were falling apart for him.

Your soft sniffles snatched his attention back to you. He felt his heart break when he looked down at you - you were afraid, angry and broken. Slowly he lifted his palm away from your mouth and couldn’t help but be drawn into your parted lips and shaky breaths. There was an urge to feel your plush lips against his but the tears in your eyes made him stop. He was hurting you again. “This isn’t right…” He said softly as he pulled away and sat on the floor with his back against the counter. Your body froze and remained on the floor, you were looking up at the ceiling and avoiding his eyes. There is a war raging inside of you right now, do you try and run again or do you stay and listen to what he has to say? Without looking at him, you asked “How did you find me?” Ran was surprised that you weren’t trying to run away from him. “How long did Mikey know about this?” He answered your question with a question. “Ran…how did you find me?” You repeated the question again while sitting up and leaning against the wall across from Ran. Both of you were sitting on the floor and avoiding each other’s eyes. Ran couldn’t look at you without feeling guilty, angry and wanting to pin you underneath him again. 

He pulled out his phone and showed you the image of the model in the background. “One of the underlings showed me this and came to me.” You were disappointed in yourself for being so careless, for the last three years you have avoided photos and public appearances. But when this place opened up, you were so busy that you slipped. You deserve better, angel… Were Mikey’s words to you that night that you came to his office. He worked really hard to make you disappear and gave you a new name to avoid leaving a trail, he hid you away for three months until he could prepare a corpse for you. Meticulous planning had you hiding under Bonten’s noses without a single ounce of suspicion - not even Kokonoi suspected a thing. Though you were willing to leave this world, Mikey didn’t let you go that easy. Call it mercy or pity, he understood what it was like to want to throw everything away, but he let you live.

You exhaled and tucked your legs into your chest, hugging them and using your knees to try and hide your face. All this work went down the drain. “Why did you come here? Why come find me?” The low tone in your voice made Ran look at you and the position you were in made him realize that you probably spent days like this after that night. “You’re seriously asking me that?” He said with a soft chuckle. “When you didn’t come home that night, I spent days looking for you - we all did.” “I didn’t realize how much it would hurt until the ache in my chest was becoming harder to ignore…” The honey coated words were making you hug your knees tighter. You didn’t know whether he was telling you the truth or not. Ran Haitani only ever hurts when his ego is bruised. “Ran, you made the choice to sever our ties.” The bitter words spilled out of your mouth before you could even think them through. He couldn’t even defend himself, you were right. Your words were like an uppercut, the blow was enough to make him clutch his chest. “(Y/N)-” He began but you cut him off. “I left that name back in Tokyo, I left it with everything I had, including you…” You said while looking up at him, the acrimony in your tone was enough to make him react. 

Ran crawled up to you, reaching to cup your face and closing the distance - he couldn’t stop the tears from falling. No…please don’t… Your inner voice was still trying its hardest to keep you from falling again, but your body was doing nothing to stop him. “My love…” He said as he leaned in and placed tender kisses on your lips. Ran’s poison was now fully circulating in your veins, it was making you dizzy as he begged for entrance and your lips were parting for him. “Ran, stop please…” You begged but your body began betraying your words - he was overdosing you. Slowly, your arms reached for him and wrapped themselves around his neck. The delicate kisses turned into hungry ones as a breathy moan escaped your lips. Though it's been three years, the both were exploring each other's mouths as if you were never separated. The warm and wet muscles were tangled and fighting for dominance, it made pools of honey between your thighs - he hasn't lost his edge. His kisses felt like fire, no matter how many times you've done it, it always burned through you and he knew how it made you melt. He didn't stop, he was suffocating you and you had to break the kiss by shoving him off of you. You both were left panting and dazed. The way your chest heaved up and down had him fighting to keep himself from palming his length. It was painfully obvious that he was holding back. Without a second thought you got up and reached for his hand, pulling him on his feet to try and talk things out but the moment you did - there was no escape for what was coming next.

Within minutes you found yourself back in the little kitchen, Ran had picked you up and you instinctively wrapped your legs around his waist. The immediate reaction was to lock lips again, but this time he was much more assertive, he was overwhelming you with his tongue and you felt dizzy. It’s been so long since you’ve had any actual connection with another man. You were too afraid to repeat history. Ran guided you back so that there would be no prying eyes if anyone were to pass by. He sat you on the edge of one of the counters and let his hands roam your body, his touch was setting you off - you tried so hard to erase him from your memory but you were anticipating every single move he was making. His hands started on your hips and moved along your curves, slowly moving upwards and cupping your breasts. The way your body reacted had him rolling your nipples under the fabric and your soft moan made him smirk against your lips. No one else knew your body like he did. You could feel him grow harder and the way his cock was throbbing against your clothed cunt had you rutting your hips to try and get more friction. 

Soon his right hand trailed south and snaked its way under your skirt. He was inching closer and closer to your core, the butterflies in your stomach were running rampant and he could feel your heart beating against his left hand when he placed it over your heart. Ran’s right hand began to dip under the fabric of your panties and he could feel the slick pool and coat your folds. Your breath hitched when he sank two fingers into your core. You bit his lip and made him groan, it’s been far too long and your walls were clenching tightly around his digits. Your lips quivered against his when he invaded your walls, making him pull away and swip his thumb over your lip. Without any words he made you lean back onto your elbows and sank down to place tender kisses from your knees to your thighs, with each kiss he could feel your legs twitch and quiver. He hummed against your skin. “This is still your sensitive spot…hmm?” The look in his eyes had you biting your lip. You pulled the hem of your skirt up, hiking it high enough so that he could see the mess he’s made of you. 

Your panties were soaked and with one swift motion he was able to remove them, the way your juices reflected the little light that bled through the kitchen had him salivating. Just seeing how your cunt greedily sucked his fingers in, made him palm himself. When he began to pump his fingers in and out - you threw your head back and tried not to rut your hips. The sensation was too good and felt like heaven. Ran leaned in and lapped your juices, making your head snap back up to see his devilish smirk. He knew you were going to watch him, you always did. “R-Ran-oh god…” You moaned and tangled your hand into his purple locks. He made sure to lock eyes with you, he wanted to see your face as pleasure washed over you. It’s something he’s yearned for, to see you fall apart for him over and over again - just like before. The way he curved his fingers to hit that one spot in your velvet walls made you throw your head back and moan loudly. He reached for your other hand and laced his fingers with yours. Ran memorized the lines of your thighs, your plush lips and the sensation of your tight walls. How could he forget? Just like you, he tried to forget but couldn’t. “I’ve missed you so much…I love you.” His confession made the tears blur your vision and cloud your judgment. No… 

His tongue began to put more pressure on your clit as he curled his finger a little more. It was becoming harder to stay lucid, you hated that he knew how to break you both emotionally and physically. The anger kept getting smothered and overruled by the pleasure. “I-oh fuck - I hate you! I-ngh…” You moaned and stuttered, the pent up frustration and need made it easy for him to push the right buttons. You pulled him closer to your aching cunt and rode out your orgasm. Ran groaned and could feel you cream around his digits and tongue. There was no denying it - you missed him, you loved him and fell apart for him. You could only hear the pounding of your heart in your chest as you came down from your body numbing high. The sound was so loud in your ears that you didn’t hear the clinking of Ran’s belt. You were snatched out of your daze when you felt a thick tip prod your core. “...you hate me?” He said in a breathy tone as he slowly pushed past your barriers only to pull out and do it again. You choked back the response and let out another moan as he dived deeper into your pools of honey. It was painful, Ran’s thickness had you feeling as if it were your first time. His cock was making your eyes water and you had to hold on the edge of the table to keep yourself from floating off. He noticed you struggling and leaned into place a kiss on your forehead to try and ease your pain. You clutched his bicep as he kept inching his way in.

“Fuck…I’ve missed you so much.” He whimpered as he bottomed out and your warm walls clenched around him, there was immense pressure on your hips. “Ran…” Your sweet moan made him pull you in and he crashed his lips into yours. The moment he started to thrust his hips, you wrapped your arms around his neck and wrapped your legs around his waist as he gripped your hips tightly. “Tell me you love me…” He whispered into your lips. His tone was beseeching, the emotions were spilling with each and every thrust. It was breaking your heart, how could you admit to still loving him without getting hurt again? “I-I can’t…” You stuttered and tried to stop yourself from falling in love with the sensation of his touch all over again. “...please, don't let me go…” He begged and buried his face into your neck, picking up the pace - trying to leave another imprint on your walls.

The tears that fell from your lashes were staining his shirt, he could feel the warm and wet sensation coating his shoulders. “I-ngh, s-shit…I promise to give you my all…” His sincerity made it harder for you to deny the love you still felt for him. “I won’t break your heart again…please, my love.” He was sending your body into overdrive with the overwhelming emotions and longing. You could feel another orgasm blossoming, these were the words you wanted to hear three years ago. “Ran…I do, I love y-oh god!” His thrusts became sloppy as he was reaching his peak. “‘Gonna cum…gonna fill you up.” “I love you…” You repeated those words again and true to his word, he felt his coil snap and made your coil snap at the same time. Your pussy milked him for all he’s worth, he painted your velvet walls white and pushed his cum deep in your womb - he didn’t want to be forgotten again. Each throb and spurt could be felt along your walls, he made you feel whole again - for the first time in three years you felt like a person again. 

He pressed his forehead against yours and cupped your cheek, “You’re mine princess…I’m not letting you go again…” Ran’s words were final. “What am I supposed to do with my cafe and my identity?” You chuckled and pecked his lips. “We’ll figure that out later…well - Mikey can figure that out later…” It sounded like Ran was going to shift the responsibility on Mikey. To be fair, you knew that it was going to end up on Koko’s shoulders. “For now let’s head back to your place so I can keep showing you how much I’ve missed you.” Sounds like today was the cafe’s last day in business.

End.

@rinrinfoxy @mor-pheus @no-signal  @namelessnikki2 @gabi-moureira @spookys-s @slvtmeow @jinii-desu @mmmaaannnsssiii @3xchooo @kokotakeomi @no-name-jack @barriesandcrem @reidsmexyconverse @waterfallsdown @1980losersliveinme @gabytodd @simp4ren @fffsksixj @ruyaas-world @suredeepinstomach @xiemei @izanology @cooki83

[freezing-kaiju]

ALRIGHT, IT'S TIME!

THE SECOND RYUKI-AND-BLADE-ACCOMPANYING ANIME POLL IS NOW HERE!!!

SO, MEET YOUR CHALLENGERS!

AJIN Demi-Human

We start with a dark horror and possibly scifi about ethics in science, immortality, and an outlaw fugitive alien plot as a boy finds himself part of a group of immortals declared legally inhuman. While I have some misgivings about Oh No I Was Secretly A Creature All Along plots, I do fucking love horror and there’s a lot of ways for those plots to hit hard in the trans and gay and autism organs and be really important!!!!

Dimension W

The New Tesla Energy Corporation has monopolized the fourth dimension and the coils that connect to it. A duo of bounty hunters, one human and one robot, make money via repossessing illegal coils and seek out the answer to the mysteries within the dimension. I really wanna watch this one for a few reasons, the primary one of which is 'there are multiple fat women'. It seems to have freaks and weirdos and fun times, and its comedy is emphasized more than most of the other ones on this list so it might give some needed levity!

Kyoukai no Kanata

A bumbling monster hunter with blood powers meets an immortal via trying to shank him and ends up in an arrangement where she'll keep trying to kill him to boost her confidence while hunting monsters in what I hope is a monster-of-a-week show that came highly recommended by a friend as her favorite anime, or one of her favorites, so i have high hopes! Script's by the hibike euphonium guy and the power system seems quite interesting!

Air

A puppeteer (if he’s as good as Sakon will remain to be seen) stops his Road Trip To Meet A Golden Sun Jupiter Summon to stay for a bit in a town and, as happens to anyone who stops for too long, gets attached to the place and also meets a girl who might be said jupiteresque being. My friend informs me that it's gorgeous, sounds amazing (so I'll make sure to get clips), and has "nice sad vibes"!!! And it’s…listed in a “provincial horror” listing… hoho

Heike Monogatari

A child who can see ghosts and the future walks tirelessly through the tragedy of the war between the Taira and Minamoto families before the dawn of the first shogunate. It's wildly beloved by a friend of mine, and also centers a historical event i know some but not all about and definitely need to know more about the Taira side of. Seems like a beautiful drama, one I could lose my heart over.

SSSS Gridman

Digital kaiju! Digital hero! Digital amnesia! A monster of the week show about an unknown amnesiac summoning and merging with Hyper Agent Gridman to fight digital, possibly virtual monsters while making friends(?) in the real world! It's the one thing Tsubaraya Productions has that isn't Ultraman, and I expect some tokusatsu vibes from it along with the mecha stuff, i've also heard it has gay girl megatron??

Akudama Drive

It's a prison break and crime story set in a tech dystopia, starring a scene girl shoplifter, and featuring a bevvy of unpersoned convicts in what seems like an excellent ensemble clusterfuck!!! The Danganronpa crew made this thing! It's also beloved by a friend of mine, and I've heard it'll be a generally excellent tragedy of a time

Canaan

A reporter gets saved from assassins by a woman she might do yuri with, and the summaries I’ve found seem to imply a plot about terrorism and mystery! It’s a Type-Moon work that isn't part of the fate, tsukihime, OR melty universes! It might still have magecraft, but it's tagged sci-fi too, and a type moon take on scifi sounds interesting... it’s also based on. *checks wikipedia* a…perfect-Famitsu-score visual novel for the Nintendo Wii. So I might need to dig out some old hardware to watch this thing. For fun’s sake!

Killing Bites

A guy unintentionally becomes the underground wrestling promoter of a ?werewolf? Woman who murders his friends and wins him a shitload of money. The end goal? According to the summary, control of the economy!!! This was recommended as garbage and good lord I need garbage so much good god I need to put some trash inside of me.

[mafiasliege]

I dare you to let me go

(This is part 7 of my fic. Enjoy reading!)

Part 6 ↓

AVERY

The next two months may have been the worst time of Avery's life. Poverty, attempts on her life, pressure of the world, nothing compared to this. She threw herself even more into her work, tried not to be in the house that suddenly felt so lonely. Jameson and her didn't spend every waking moment together, even before everything went to hell, but he'd always be there. Making mischief, speeding cars on the track, sunbathing in the solarium or jumping off of his beloved climbing wall. She could feel him being there, and that was a great comfort. Now it felt so empty.

Jameson was still in the UK. He had come home for Christmas and New Year's, though. But the Hawthorne House was big enough for him to never see her.

She had to do something. Just because he told her to go away doesn't mean she'd just obey.

The next day, Alisa was in her office with Gray.

"Alisa. I need you to research every loophole on this."

The next few hours, the for of them discussed every possible outcome regarding her… proposition.

"Are you sure you want to do this, Avery?" Grayson asked her, even though he jumped on board with the idea.

"Yes."

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

"Hey, Priscilla."

"Oh dear! Get inside, you all."

"That's okay. Is Jameson not home?" That was Xander, peeking in.

"Oh no, sweetie. He's in London. He had been since his mot was here two weeks ago."

Avery frowned. "A mot?"

"The blonde one."

"What's her name?"

"Don't know, girl. Mario tells me she's the Countess of Caithness. Real charmer."

Mario was the security at the front gate. No doubt they'd talked around. Even the media had gotten the hint they weren't together anymore. Their theories only made her feel worse.

Avery tried to mask her disappointment. He was flying around the globe like it was a ball, but he'd only come home for the sake of holidays. Just when she'd tracked him down, he was in London.

She was nervous on the flight there, and Xander tried using his distraction skills to it's best.

"What do you think he's doing in London? You know, other than getting into trouble."

Avery ignored that and voiced her fears thoughts instead, "do you think he's dating someone?"

"Probably." Said Lyra, casually sipping on her Manhattan. "What? It could happen. He's single and a Hawthorne. It could even be that blonde." She shrugged when Grayson glared at her.

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

Jameson was not in his apartment, not at the mercy, and not with Simon. Max had stumbled into a famous bookstore. After Avery started panicking again, Lyra tried to redeem herself for her previous taunting, and dragged them to her favourite bar place in the city.

"You need to chill. Come on, the Manhattan on the flight has started losing its effect, anyway."

Inside the club, called The Onyx, Avery realised how fucked up a sense of humour life had, when she saw Jameson… with a girl.

"We did not go through so much trouble with Sheffield Grayson just for you to commit murder yourself," Grayson said, warning Avery, her dagger eyes on Jameson and the pretty blonde sitting together. He proceeded to say something that made them both laugh a lot and she touched his arm. It was his real laugh, which only made her more jealous.

"Gray's right. Max says it's harder to hide bodies in winter." Why Max knew that, no one knew. "Besides, don't you need to, you know, be married to be Countess?"

"Caithness is in Scotland, Xan. Some women there can just inherit the title. As a matter of fact, she's on google. Unmarried." She showed him a Wikipedia page.

While Lyra and Xan kept chattering, Jameson had spotted them. She waved at him. They got up and came toward them.

The blonde put out her hand, "Bridget. Nice to meet you." Avery put aside the most vivid fantasies she had sitting there of pulling the hand that touched him and burn it, and shook it instead. "Avery."

After initial introductions, avery excused herself to the bathroom.

Stay cool, calm, and collected.

"Heiress."

Avery turned around to see Jameson standing there. She turned around slowly to face him. He looked so beautiful, it hurt. His eyes seemed brighter, somehow. And his face and posture looked more relaxed, like when you water a drying plant. She felt equal parts guilty and ashamed that it took him leaving her to feel like himself again.

"I have to tell you something." He just nodded. Her heart was thumping rapidly in her chest.

"I gave up the Hawthorne foundation. It officially belongs to Grayson now." Jameson was shocked. He blinked twice, as if it wasn't real and all in his head.

"How? I thought you couldn't-"

"I told you, I'm not letting you go. Not now, not ever. But i had too many expectations from too many people. I had to release some of it. So, I researched every loophole the past couple of months, and made it official, it can't be undone now. And i wouldn't have it any other way." She always knew the Hawthorne foundation was what Grayson really missed about losing the inheritance, and she had her own foundation, her own purpose.

She kept talking, if he wasn't going to.

"So, your girlfriend's nice." The best way to cut out the awkward parts, according to her, was to rip off the bandaid asap.

“I'm not here on a date. Bridget's just a friend,” Jameson said in a small voice.

“Then why…”

"Why did Priscilla say-" his eyes glittered with emotion.

“Because I knew you'd ask her. Because I'm afraid of getting too attached again. I've been fighting against my still-consistent longing for you, and I almost gave in. I don’t…” He inhaled a shuddering breath.

“I’m scared I’ll go back and lose myself again. I’m scared you’ll get comfortable and take back you're words. I can’t go through that a second time, Avery. I can’t.” Avery put her hands on his neck.

"I won't, Jameson. I'll never take us back to that time." She pressed her forehead against his.

“Give us another chance,” she said. “One last chance. I promise I won’t hurt you. I know my promises don’t mean much to you anymore, and that's entirely my own doing, but tell me what you want me to do, and I’ll do it.”

This time, it was her who waited. Waited for so long, she wasn't sure he'd even heard her. When it became clear he wasn't going to say anything, she turned around.

"Heiress."

She hadn't even turned around halfway before Jameson grabbed her hand to gently pulled her toward him…

And kissed her.

[inthedayswhenlandswerefew]

North To The Future [Chapter 4: Semi-Charmed Life]

The year is 1999. You are just beginning your veterinary practice in Juneau, Alaska. Aegon is a mysterious, troubled newcomer to town. You kind of hate him. You are also kind of obsessed with him. Falling for him might legitimately ruin your life…but can you help it? Oh, and there’s a serial killer on the loose known only as the Ice Fisher.

Chapter warnings: Language, alcoholism, addiction, murder, veterinary medicine, delicious Thanksgiving nomz, ANGST and let me repeat that last one in case you missed it ANGSTTTTTTTTT!!!

Word count: 5k.

Link to chapter list (and all my writing): HERE.

Taglist: @elsolario​ @meadowofsinfulthoughts​ @ladylannisterxo​ @doingfondue​ @tclegane​ @quartzs-posts​ @liathelioness​ @aemcndtargaryen​ @thelittleswanao3​ @burningcoffeetimetravel​ @b1gb3anz​ @hinata7346​ @poohxlove​ @borikenlove​ @myspotofcraziness​ @travelingmypassion​ @graykageyama​ @skythighs​ @lauraneedstochill​ @darlingimafangirl​ @charenlie​ @thewew​ @eddies-bat-tattoos​ @minttea07​​

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Here’s the thing about the Ice Fisher: he doesn’t have a type. Ted Bundy liked girls and young women. John Wayne Gacy liked boys and young men. Juan Corona liked farm laborers, Belle Gunness liked suitors who answered the marriage ads she placed in Chicago newspapers, Robert Hansen liked sex workers who he would set loose in the Alaskan wilderness and then hunt down with his Ruger Mini-14. Everyone has their preferences. But not the Ice Fisher.

The first victim was a burly mid-fifties logger and recreational hunter named Josiah Wolfenstein. The second was nineteen-year-old college student Tammy Miller; she was from Sitka and studying psychology, a choice that now strikes you as ironic. The third and most recent victim was Carol Philips: forty-three, Garth Brooks superfan, amateur baker, and beloved soccer mom. They have nothing in common except for their manner of death. They reveal no pattern. They shed no light on who the Ice Fisher is targeting, and conversely who can consider themselves safe. Everyone is a potential victim. And there is no such thing as safe.

In between veterinary appointments, you watch the local news coverage on the grainy tv in the clinic lobby, your arms crossed instinctively over your chest, your face grim.

“You want some bear mace?” Jennifer says, showing you a small black cannister attached to a keychain. “My boyfriend buys a new one for me every time someone gets murdered, so now I have extra.”

You take it tentatively. “Bear mace?”

“Yeah, but it works on people too. It has a 30-foot range. You can spray that Greek guy with it.”

You laugh and clip the bear mace to your purse: a Coach patchwork saddle bag that your parents bought you a few Christmases ago. “Thanks. I’ll keep that in mind.”

Chief of Police Eugene Baker, a high school classmate of your parents, is holding a press conference on the television screen. “We believe this killer to be an adult male with considerable physical strength and knowledge of the outdoors. While the first two victims were found in Dredge Lake, Ms. Philips’ remains were recovered from nearby Crystal Lake, complicating the investigation. Police are patrolling the Tongass National Forest, but we simply do not have the manpower to surveille all Juneau-area lakes at all times. We therefore will continue to ask for the public’s cooperation in submitting tips and identifying possible suspects. To this end, we have set up an anonymous 24/7 hotline staffed by volunteers; the phone number is displayed at the bottom of your screen. We advise all Juneau residents to stay vigilant, particularly around strangers, and avoid leaving their homes alone after dark…”

Outside in the violet-and-amber afternoon light, there is the sound of tires slipping on ice. Aegon’s 1985 Chevy Nova drifts sideways into a parking spot; or, rather, into a position improbably straddling three separate parking spots. He and Sunfyre exit the vehicle.

“Oh, great,” Jen grumbles. She hides behind the reception desk so she won’t have to interact with Aegon. She busies herself with cutting pieces of paper into snowflakes, impaling them with paperclips, and arranging them on the miniature Christmas tree that you obtained for the clinic.

“Hey!” Aegon announces merrily as he breezes inside. He is dressed in his light-wash Levis, black Converses, and an oversized pale green sweater with holes in it; the white of the T-shirt he has on underneath shines through the gaps like stars. Overtop he has thrown the black parka you gave him, unzipped and peppered with melting snowflakes. Half of his hair is pulled back in a messy bun. Sunfyre—still wearing his cone of shame—trots along beside him, unleashed.

“Hey,” you return, smiling. “You’re early.”

“We weren’t catching anything, there was an orca pod in the bay this morning and it scared most of the fish off. So we docked the boat after lunch.” His spots the new addition to your purse. “What’s up with that?”

“It’s bear mace. For bears…or serial killers…or you. I haven’t decided which yet. What’s up with your hair?”

“It’s a man bun,” he says, somewhat defensive. “They’re very popular in Southern California.”

“That sounds fictional.”

“I’ll have you know that in the acclaimed feature film Mulan, love interest and all-around badass General Li Shang had a man bun.”

“Literally fictional.”

“Are you going to take the stitches out of my dog’s face or are you just going to mercilessly bully me? I’m very sensitive, you know. As an Aquarius, I hide this beneath a thin veneer of rebellious behavior and inability to commit, but at my heart I am a profoundly fragile man. I’m forever just a few seconds away from disaster. I’m a Christmas ornament in the unsteady hands of a five-year-old high on the jittery, saccharine rush of Kool-Aid.”

“Tropical Punch?”

“Cherry. But knowing you, every cup would have to be a brand new flavor.”

You’re still smiling; you haven’t stopped since he walked in. Aegon smiles back. Jen peeks over the top of the reception desk with wide, curious eyes. Sunfyre whines and scratches at his cone, as if to remind everyone about the true purpose of this visit.

“Bring the beast,” you say, leading Aegon back into the exam room. He scoops up Sunfyre with a grunt and places him on top of the table; the dog’s nails click against the cool, reflective metal surface. You liberate Sunfyre from his cone, then numb his muzzle with lidocaine and remove the stitches one at a time, snipping them with surgical scissors and then pulling them out of the flesh with tweezers. Aegon watches you with his hands in his parka pockets, his expression strangely vacant.

“He’ll have a scar, won’t he?”

“Yes, a small one. But that will just make him more rugged and attractive to all the lady-dogs. Or gentleman-dogs, whatever Sunfyre is into.”

“A scar on his face,” Aegon murmurs, then shakes his pensiveness away. “What should I bring to Thanksgiving?”

“Probably nothing. I think my parents have it covered…the appetizers, the dinner, the desserts…and also, you do not strike me as someone who cooks.”

“Yeah, I eat a lot of Lunchables. But I feel like I should bring something.”

Your eyes flick to his, playful. “Are you worried about making a good first impression?”

Aegon smirks, shrugs, says nothing. Sometimes you make an appearance at Ursa Minor, sometimes you don’t; sometimes you pick up when he calls, sometimes you end up spending hours in his apartment watching the X-Files or Law & Order or 60 Minutes. Other times, you fill your time with work, family, friends, flipping through the tower of travel magazines you have stacked beside your bed. It’s not that you’re ignoring Aegon. It’s that you’re trying to figure out what being with him would be like: what you would gain, what it would cost. He hasn’t tried to touch you since that night under the Northern Lights. You haven’t tried to pry into his many mysteries. But each unanswered question is like a landmine one careless step away from eruption, and they’re filling up that space that stays between you on his threadbare floral couch. At this precise moment, Aegon seems sober, which is highly unusual. There’s something quiet and boyish about him when he’s like this, something almost vulnerable. You can picture him wandering aimlessly through the Foodland, staring at mounds of Idaho potatoes and cans of gooey apple pie filling, having no idea what to do with any of it.

“My mom really likes flowers,” you say. “And obviously she doesn’t get to see them a lot this time of year. So if you want to bring something, bring flowers.”

“Okay. Deal.”

“No rum and Cokes today?” you ask, still removing stitches with sure, deft hands.

“Not yet. But I’m counting the seconds until we’re done here, believe me.”

You recall what he told you as you sat together in Ursa Minor under Christmas lights and strands of shimmering silver tinsel: I don’t do well when I’m sober. You pull out the last stitch and pet Sunfyre’s soft fluffy head. He pants happily, his tail thumping against the table, his trusting dark eyes gazing up at you, tiny starless universes. “Why did you buy the Nova if you’re almost always too drunk to drive it?”

“So I can take Sunfyre up to the woods on nice days. He loves the trails.”

“Um, I don’t think you should be hiking out there alone.”

“Relax. Killers never get the people who deserve it.” Aegon flashes you grin, digs around in his parka pocket, tosses you a gold key that you catch in fumbling, cupped palms. “Here.”

“What is this?”

“It’s a spare. Just in case you ever want to stop by and hang out with my dog. Or, you know. Me.”

You gawk at the key, at Aegon, back to the key. “You’re giving me a…? Why would…? How…?”

“Just so you know it’s an option,” Aegon says. He lifts Sunfyre down from the exam table and leaves like the sun at dusk.

~~~~~~~~~~

You love waking up at home on holiday mornings. There is the noise of clanging pots and pans, the scents of bacon and pancakes and rising Pillsbury cinnamon rolls, the sound of one of your dad’s rock albums spinning on the record player in the living room. Today, his Thanksgiving preparation background music is Third Eye Blind; you bound down the stairs as Semi-Charmed Life drifts through the house. After a swift breakfast—your mom has already set out a plate for you, along with a glass of ice-cold orange juice and a Flintstones multivitamin—the real work begins.

The turkey is slathered with butter and herbs and placed in the oven. The neck and giblets are boiled to make stock for gravy, and then you set them aside for Sunfyre. The rolls are baked, the potatoes are mashed, the yams are smothered with brown sugar and marshmallows, the green bean casserole is topped with French’s fried onions, the stuffing is Stove Top out of the box, the cranberry sauce retains the precise shape of the aluminum can it was jiggled out of. Once you and your dad have finished setting the table, you tell him you’re heading out to pick up the mysterious friend who will be joining you for dinner.

“Your friend doesn’t have a car?” your dad asks, not critical or suspicious, merely intrigued. You have been uncharacteristically cagey about this particular friend, and with good reason. You know practically nothing besides what your parents have already surmised: male, probably single, inopportunely sexy.

“No, he does. I just told him that I’d give him a ride.” In case he gets too hammered to drive himself home, which is almost a certainty.

“Okay, ladybug,” your dad says, folding the red cloth napkins into inelegant triangles, his scruffy grey eyebrows knitted together. “Whatever floats your boat.”

When you knock on Aegon’s apartment door, he appears dressed in his most festive attire: a blue Hawaiian shirt, black jeans, combat boots, a gold chain around his neck, his white-blond hair neat and mostly straight. He is holding a bouquet of roses that have been dyed a deep sapphire color, like the ocean, like biting winter cold.

“Wow,” you say. “You look like Leonardo DiCaprio in Romeo + Juliet.”

“I hope I get a happier ending.” He calls Sunfyre over. The golden retriever pads into view. He is wearing a meticulously groomed coat of fur and a blue bowtie to match Aegon’s shirt.

“Hey, buddy!” you squeal in delight, squatting down to scratch Sunfyre’s ears and cover his scarred muzzle with quick smacking kisses. “You are going to be so psyched when you see what we have for you. There’s a nice turkey neck…and a heart, and a liver…and a delicious gizzard…and maybe even some nice juicy kidneys…and I’ll slice it up all up for you into easily chewable little bites…”

“Calm down, Appletini,” Aegon says, grabbing his parka. “You wouldn’t want anyone thinking you’re the Ice Fisher.”

Back at your parents’ house, your mom and dad dash to the door to meet your enigmatic friend, clamoring like teenage girls at an Enrique Iglesias concert. Aegon beams and shakes their hands, thanking them graciously for the invitation. Your dad shoots you a furtive grin: This friend IS sexy! Sunfyre presents himself for pats and high-pitched coos of adoration.

“I’m Vince, and this is my wife Debbie,” your dad says. “But you can call us Mom and Dad, that’ll make things less confusing. That’s what most of my daughter’s friends do.”

“That is so totally cool of you. I’m Aegon.”

“Aegon?!” your mom blurts out before she can stop herself.

He sighs. “It’s Greek.”

“Oh, how exotic!” she recovers tactfully, then gasps when he hands her the bouquet. “For me?!”

“It’s the absolute least I could do. I hope you like roses. The options at the Foodland were roses, roses, or…let me think…oh yeah, more roses.”

“They’re lovely,” your mom purrs. “And such a unique color!”

“They reminded me of Alaska, all the ocean, and ice, and big open sky…and also Appletini. Because I always give her the blue mug.”

Your parents blink at him, confounded. “…Appletini?” your dad ventures, smiling.

“It’s a long story,” you say, suddenly shy.

“Well, come on in,” your mom courteously deflects. “There are deviled eggs, salmon dip, Ritz crackers, and pigs in a blanket just waiting to be eaten.”

As your mom and dad bang around the kitchen putting the final touches on dinner, you and Aegon assemble your appetizer plates and loiter in the dining room, nibbling and chatting, bathed in the flickering golden light of the woodstove and humming along to the red Third Eye Blind vinyl that is still rotating on the record player like a bloody planet. There are three unopened bottles of wine on the table. Aegon keeps glancing at them, his eyes gleaming and famished.

“Would you like a tour of the house?” you say. “An authentic Alaskan house? Come March you’ll probably never have this opportunity again. You’ll be jet-setting off to some other far-flung destination, probably somewhere warm where they have plentiful Taco Bells and internet.”

“I’m not a fan of the internet,” Aegon replies, piling a Ritz cracker worryingly high with salmon dip. “But Taco Bells are a must. Yes, lead the way, oh wise and prophetic Madame Appletini.”

You show him the kitchen where your parents are laboring (floral wallpaper), the study (more floral wallpaper), the living room (wood paneling), and the backyard (adorned with a salt lick for the friendly neighborhood cow moose). Then you take Aegon upstairs to your bedroom. He ponders the details for a nerve-rackingly long time as he gnaws on slightly-too-crispy pigs in a blanket: your stack of travel magazines, your veterinary books, your dark blue bedding, the photographs taped to your mirror, the plethora of posters tacked to your walls.

Aegon speaks without looking at you, still investigating. “Has Trent ever gotten to enjoy your extensive collection of Ricky Martin posters?”

“Not yet. Preferably not ever.”

Now Aegon turns to you; he is smiling. “I feel so sorry for him.”

“Dinner’s ready, kids!” your dad shouts up the stairs, and you obediently report to the table to eat until you are in agony, which to your understanding is the primary objective of Thanksgiving.

“Drinks?” you mom inquires as she lights the tall red candles. The blue roses are in a vase at the center of the table. “There’s Tang, and Snapple, and water of course, and Pinot Noir. Martha Stewart says that’s the best wine to pair with turkey.”

“Wine, please,” Aegon says. She fills his glass. It vanishes almost immediately.

Aegon is the perfect guest: he samples everything and offers enthusiastic compliments, even when he is clearly horrified (as he is by the green bean casserole): “The turkey is so moist and flavorful!” “The yams are like dessert!” “It’s so fun to poke this cranberry sauce!” “My, what a creative use of cream of mushroom soup!” Meanwhile, in the kitchen, Sunfyre feasts on a plate of turkey organs and a few slices of white meat. You have a glass of wine, and so does your dad; your mom has two; you lose count of Aegon’s glasses after four. He becomes increasingly uncoordinated, giggly, fogged like a window. Your parents do not encourage him to drink, but they don’t try to stop him either; they ignore his drunkenness like a ghost that stands in the corner of the room, silent, waiting, set ablaze by firelight.

“Do I detect a British accent?” your dad asks Aegon pleasantly. “So this must be a new experience for you. Did you grow up abroad?”

“I grew up everywhere.” Aegon smirks evasively, swigging his wine. “And yes, my exposure to Thanksgiving is extremely limited. But I like this. I like this a lot. I’m going to have to do it every year, wherever I am. Sunfyre will rebel if I don’t. He’ll call PETA to file a complaint.”

“You do quite a bit of travelling, I gather,” your mom says. She watches Aegon with an intense, mesmerized sort of interest. It’s almost unnerving. It’s like she is searching for something: fingerprints dusted at a crime scene, gold nuggets sifted from a river.

“All over. All the time.”

“What do you do for work?”

“Everything,” Aegon says. “Here I’m salmon trolling. In San Francisco I was a dockworker, in San Diego I was a lifeguard—you don’t want to know how little training it takes to be a custodian of human lives, it’s absolutely horrifying, they’d let a great white shark be a lifeguard if it looked good in red—in Phoenix I did construction, just outside of Denver I got a job working on a cattle ranch. In Dallas I picked cotton. In Portland, Maine I caught lobsters. I’ll try anything once. I just like to keep moving. As long as I can make enough money to have somewhere for me and Sunfyre to sleep at night, I’m happy.”

“You’re just like Jack Dawson in Titanic,” your mom sighs, smiling in a way that brightens her whole face. “All you need is the air in your lungs.”

“You work on the same boat as Heather’s brother Trent, is that right?” your dad asks.

“Oh, Trent!” your mom says. “He’s a hunk. He looks just like a long-haired Matt Damon.”

You squint at her. “Yeah, if Matt Damon did steroids.”

“He’s a nice boy, that Trent,” your dad says. “I mean, he won’t be winning Who Wants To Be A Millionaire anytime soon, but he’s solid.”

Your mom nods in agreement. “Dumb as a rock.”

“He’s a great guy,” Aegon says diplomatically. “Wouldn’t hurt a fly. Unless that fly was a salmon.” He laughs overly-loudly, sloshing red wine out of his glass and staining the tablecloth like blood on snow. Your parents pretend not to notice.

After dinner, your mom brings out dessert: one pumpkin pie, one apple pie, one plate full of Tongass Forest Cookies. Aegon samples both pies and gobbles cookies until his Hawaiian shirt is littered with crumbs, washing them down with more wine. Then he gets up to pull on his parka and let Sunfyre outside. Aegon lurches as he moves, clutching walls and counters and the backs of chairs.

“I’ll go with you,” your mom offers before you can. She helps Aegon down the icy porch steps and then plays with Sunfyre in the backyard: chasing him through the snow, throwing sticks for him to fetch, tossing snowballs for him to snap between his jaws. Aegon, wobbly but in good spirits, participates as much as he can. And the way that your mom looks at him…it’s an expression you can’t recall ever seeing on her face before. It is fascination and fondness and grief all tangled up together. The light in her eyes is beautiful; it is also breathtakingly sad.

Your dad taps one of the empty wine bottles. “He’s got a problem, ladybug.”

“I know.”

“You can’t fix that for him. He has to want to fix himself.”

“I know,” you say again, your voice a brittle whisper.

Your dad sighs deeply and clasps his hands together, stares out the window, contemplates something heavy and unseen. At last, he speaks. “I’ve loved your mother my whole life. And when she and Jesse got together, I thought it was going to kill me. It wasn’t the fact that she was with another man. It was what he put her through. There were fights, there were bruises, and then there were promises and apologies, past-due bills and handmade birthday cakes, locked doors, open doors, kicked down doors. I couldn’t get her to leave him, and I couldn’t watch it keep happening. I tried everything to get away from your mother. I joined the goddamn Marines to get away from her. Four years in Vietnam and I still couldn’t sweat her out. I came back to Juneau and used my G.I. Bill to go to the University of Alaska, and…I would never admit this to anyone except you, but you need to hear it…I waited for that marriage to fall apart. And it did, but it took Jesse drowning in the Gastineau Channel.” He looks at you with miserable, glistening eyes. “Watching the way your mother suffered with a man like that was hell. Watching you go through the same thing would be unbearable.”

There is silence: a silence as thick and perilous as the ocean. Your dad studies you, searching for understanding, for a rational consensus to be reached. You study the lines in your palms. There is nothing rational about what you’re feeling. Alaska is flush with eligible men who are not temporary, not secretive, not unrepentant alcoholics: pilots, truckers, fishermen, loggers, oil riggers, scientific researchers, park rangers. You don’t want any of them. You’ve never wanted anything the way you want Aegon. It’s not fair. It’s not fucking fair.

The back door opens, and your mom and Sunfyre—elated and covered in snow—romp into the house. Your mom is giggling as she grabs a dishtowel from the kitchen and begins to clean the snow from Sunfyre’s fur. “You might want to…uh…retrieve Aegon,” she tells you. “It’s pretty cold out there.”

“What’s he doing?”

“Making snow angels.”

“Oh. Great.” You put on your own parka and head out into the afternoon twilight.

“Hey,” Aegon says from where he’s sprawled on the ground. He’s sweeping his arms and legs back and forth as stars rise in the sky.

“Hey. Are you having fun down there?”

“Yes.” His breath is a cloud in the frigid air. His arms and legs go still. “I love feeling small like this. Nothing matters. Not our pasts, not our accomplishments, not our mistakes. We’re all just bones with memories. We’re all just future space dust.”

“You don’t want to be remembered?”

“God no. What would be worth remembering? I want to be a whisper. I want to be the wind that blows over the ocean.” He cranes his neck to look up at you, thoughtful in that glazed, drunken sort of way. “You can remember me, I guess. I’ll allow that. But only you. No one else.”

“Assuming I outlive you.”

“You will obviously outlive me.” He holds his arms up in the air and you pull him to his feet.

“I think it’s time for you and Sunfyre to go home.”

“Oh no.” His face is filled with abrupt realization. “Do your parents hate me?”

“No, they like you. They like you a lot. They’re just worried about you.” And they’d be a lot more worried if they knew about the track marks on your arms or the fact that you can’t stay in one place longer than six months without being descended upon by maybe-metaphorical ghosts.

Aegon laughs wildly, almost hysterically. He reaches for your shoulder to steady himself and then stops short. He sways in the late-November air, his hair dripping from the snow, his hazy blue eyes all over you. You tuck his ever-errant lock of hair behind his ear. I love him, you think helplessly, like when you know you’re dreaming but can’t wake up. “Worried about me,” he muses without elaborating. “Worried about me.”

Your parents send Aegon home with warm hugs and Tupperware containers full of leftovers, including extra turkey meat for Sunfyre and a truly ludicrous helping of cookies. You drive to Aegon’s apartment building slowly so Sunfyre can stick his head out the back window and bark gleefully at every car you pass. It is dark when you get there, the sunset come and gone, the constellations visible in a rare clear sky: Gemini, Orion, Draco, Ursa Major, Ursa Minor. Your Jeep idles under the lusterless beam of a streetlight.

Aegon asks, a ghost of a smile on his lips: “You want to come upstairs with me?”

“Yes,” you reply. And if you do, you won’t leave until morning. “But not until I’ve talked to you about something first.”

“It’s important,” Aegon says softly, not a question but an observation, reading your face like a weather forecast: chance of sun, chance of storms.

“Yes, it’s important.”

“Okay. Let me take Sunfyre inside and I’ll be right back.”

“Okay.”

He doesn’t kiss you goodbye, he doesn’t even hug you. He reaches out with one hand and dusts his calloused thumbprint across your cheekbone, marveling at you like you’re a radiant horizon, like you’re ancient ruins: cave paintings older than the pyramids, pillars of stones and secrets. Then he gets out of the Jeep and staggers into the apartment building with Sunfyre scampering along beside him. He reappears moments later, his hands buried in the pockets of his parka. You were too anxious to wait in the Jeep; you pace back and forth beneath the dim ochre streetlight. Aegon watches you from several yards away, waiting for you to begin.

“Look,” you say. “I like you.”

“Cool.”

“No, I mean, I really like you.”

He smiles like the sun, like the Northern Lights. “So you are applying to be my Juneau girl.”

“Yes. But I need something from you first.”

His blue eyes are calm beneath the streetlight, beneath the starlight. “Name it.”

“I need you to get help.”

Aegon shakes his head, not understanding, his smile slowly dying. His lock of bone-white hair cuts his cheek in half like a scar. “What are you talking about?”

“You can go to rehab. I’ll help you find a program, I’ll take care of Sunfyre while you’re away.”

Everything about him changes, like the phases of the moon: his face darkens, his eyes go steely and sharp, everything you love about him is eclipsed. “I don’t need rehab.”

“Aegon, you obviously need rehab.”

He glares at you with savage distrust, with betrayal.

“I need you to get yourself together,” you plead. “I want to be with you, I want to let myself care about you, but I can’t do that when you’re killing yourself right in front of me.”

“I don’t see how it affects you.”

“It does. It will.”

“I’m a lot better now than I was two years ago.”

“It’s not good enough, Aegon.”

He looks down at his combat boots, then back at you. You barely recognize him. “So I’m not good enough.”

“That’s not what I said—”

“It’s what you meant, it’s what this whole fucking conversation is about, right?” he flares. “You not being satisfied with the kind of person I am. You thinking that you get any say at all in who I am. Are you delusional, are you that goddamn narcissistic? Have you staked some claim to me that I’m unaware of? Are you Christopher Columbus here to strip me bare and claim you discovered me?”

“Are you listening to me?! I’m trying to tell you that I l—”

“No, you don’t like me. You like some hypothetical version of me that you’re trying to convince yourself exists.”

You stare at him in heartbroken disbelief. “Why won’t you let me help you?”

“I don’t need your help. I don’t want your help.”

“But I thought…if you would just…we could…”

“When the fuck did I ever promise you a future?” Aegon flings like a blade. “When did I ever promise you anything? You think I showed up here to build you some cabin on the side of a mountain, get a desk job, give you Christmases and kids? That’s not me. That’s never going to be me. I’m not yours to use. I’m not a Ricky Martin poster to keep tacked up on your wall. I’m not the impetus to bail you out of your spineless, unfulfilling life.”

“Please stop.” Your throat is burning; there are hot tears slithering from your eyes. The icy wind stings against your face. “Please just stop.”

“I’m not the one who fucked this up,” Aegon hisses. “It was you, it was you, because I told you the truth but you refused to believe it. I’m not yours and I never was and I’m never going to be, so you better get that through your thick fucking skull. I’m not yours.”

“And why would I want someone like you?!” you scream into the darkness. He flinches away like you’ve hit him. His eyes are huge and glassy. “An alcoholic, an addict, a coward who runs away from anything worth living for? I’d rather die than waste my life on you. Wait, my mistake, waste the next four months on you, because then you’ll be fleeing to go terrorize some other girl in some other city. I don’t want you. I can’t wait to forget you.”

“Then go!” Aegon roars over his shoulder as he turns away. “Just fucking go!” He storms off into his apartment building; he disappears like the end of summer, leaving a jet-black endless void.

You retreat back into your Jeep, slam the door, and sit there under the silver-cold moonlight sobbing into empty, trembling hands.