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trippinsorrows · 2 months

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looking through your eyes + nine

authors note: i know i've said this before, but this one might be my favorite. there are a few subtle hints spread throughout as well.....

i also listened to the song i named the story after while writing most of this chapter, so maybe recommended listening?

if any cw/tw’s are missed, please let me know, and i will add them!

cw/tw: fluff, angst, language, inebriation, character being triggered, references to past csa, and suggestive themes

song inspo: ‘looking through your eyes’ by leann rimes

masterlist

words: 12k (i can't be stopped, clearly)

And I see a girl Who is learning to trust

---Leann Rimes

In many ways, Roman is a simple man. The kind that believes obvious gestures, actions, or even lack of inaction should speak for itself. That there are some things that are just so clear as day, it doesn’t make sense for him to have to explain himself.

For him to have to repeat himself.

Well, that’s gone out the window as of recent months, because he’s constantly found himself having to do just that. And his day is starting off no different with a surprising and unwanted guest showing up at his office demanding to speak to him.

Bayley stands across his desk with her arms crossed and an almost glare on her face. “I’ve been texting you.”

The fact that she even has his number is an issue in and of itself, but he’ll tackle that another day. “I’m aware.”

The avoiding of said texts is that obvious thing that she seemingly doesn’t understand the why behind.

Bayley nods, very visibly keeping in a comment she’s at least smart enough to not make to the head of the Bloodline. Friend of his wife, or not. “Well, I would like to talk to you.”

Roman rolls his eyes, moving up from his desk to his filing cabinet to swap out expense reports he was trying to review before her rude, unwanted interruption. “I bet you would.”

“Seriously?” Ignoring her once again is the plan, Roman hoping that’s all it takes so that he doesn’t have to lose his temper before he even has his first meeting of the day. “It’s about Solana.”

And that is what finally catches Roman’s attention. He’s quick to turn around, expression suddenly hardened. “Talk.” She has his full attention. “Now.”

Bayley takes note of how easily it is to gather Roman’s attention with the simple mention of Solana. It’s surprising to say the least and telling as hell to say the most, but she keeps this little observation to herself.

“We’re having a Cinco De Mayo celebration at my family’s restaurant tomorrow night.”

“What does that have to do with Solana?”

Roman watches her hesitate for a second. “I want to invite her.”

For a split second, Bayley thinks she may have hit a stroke of luck when Roman doesn’t immediately shoot down her request. He seems to actually be thinking about it. And then he asks the question she knew would be the nail in the coffin. “Will Escobar be there?”

She’d like to just say no, as it’s highly unlikely he will attend, Bayley unsure if her cousin is even in the country. But, lying to the man before her has never turned out well for anyone, so she answers as honestly as she can. “I don’t know. You know he pops up at random times—”

Roman doesn’t even need to hear the rest. “My answer is no.”

She can’t be too surprised. Bayley wisely anticipated getting Roman to budge would be damn near impossible, if not entirely impossible.

“Roman—”

“Why the fuck would I allow her to be anywhere around that son of a bitch?”

To be fair, Roman’s relationship with Santos Escobar is tamer than most. They’re not allies, certainly not friends, and he doesn’t hate the man. It irritates him a bit how Escobar is a stubborn bastard and refuses to pledge loyalty and allegiance to the Bloodline, but that anger is eased by the fact that Escobar gives an even bigger middle finger to the Nightmare Factory.

His loyalty is to himself and the Legado Del Fantasma. That makes him a wildcard and potentially dangerous.

Roman won’t have Solana anywhere where danger could be present.

“You know as well as I do that while both you and my cousin have this weird ass Qué en es más macho thing going on, there’s all but a ceasefire. You've never attacked one of his men the same way he’s never attacked anyone in the Bloodline. That’s not going to change overnight just because your wife is present at a chorcha.”

Roman isn’t too full of himself to admit when someone has made a valid point, but as this involves Solana, the standards are a bit different. He won’t give Bayley that much. “Why should I even take the chance? You want to do something with Solana, take her somewhere else that’s on Bloodline or neutral territory.”

“My family’s restaurant is on neutral territory.” Bayley is happy to have another point of his she can counter. “And contrary to what the average, ignorant American thinks, Cinco De Mayo is an important part of our culture and our heritage, Solana’s heritage. I think she would really enjoy herself, that it would….that it would help her feel close to her mom.”

Roman is excellent in the way he remains absolutely unreadable even at Bayley’s point that has him seriously reconsidering his prior answer.

He has no doubt that would help her feel connected with her mom, being around reminders and in a space that’s so representative of half of who she is, who her mother was. He can’t see her not enjoying herself, which is something that doesn’t seem to happen a lot in her life thus far.

Just as he continues to mull over the options, Bayley adds on another defense. “I get where you’re coming from with the safety angle, but I’ll be there and Naomi will be there. Between the two of us, no one will touch her.”

Roman easily reads between the lines and identifies her unspoken request. “You don’t want Solo there.”

On one hand, he can understand it. Bayley not wanting his Enforcer there. Solo’s presence could be seen as him potentially scoping versus the real reason of serving as Solana’s personal guard.

Bayley doesn’t seem to be backing down, reminding with all the confidence in the world of her capabilities. “Like I said, Naomi and I got this.”

Roman will give her that. Bayley and Naomi could fight on his team any day. They’re just as brutal as the men, if not more when pushed. He knows they’d be able to keep Solana safe if need be. It’s that realization as well as the concern of depriving her of something that could make her happy that brings him to a revised answer.

“Fine, she can go.” Roman is quick to add on as an ominous warning, borderline threat, “but if anything fucking happens to her while she’s with you—”

“It won’t,” Bayley vows. “She’s our friend, and she’s family to Naomi. We look out for each other.”

Roman believes that. Believes that Bayley has seemingly pledged a loyalty to Solana that matches that of Naomi, and while he’d never fucking tell her this, he’s grateful she has someone like Bayley to talk to.

At his fill of socialization with people he doesn’t like, Roman is quick with the dismissal. “If you don’t have anything else to discuss with me about Solana, you can get the hell out of my office.”

Bayley is actually surprised she made it this long without being kicked out, so it’s under her breath she mutters, “a true gentleman.” She’s halfway to his door when manners get the best of her. “Hey, Roman.”

He’s back at his desk, gaze as irritated as when she first stepped in. “What?”

With a nod of respect and appreciation, she simply says, “thank you.” Whatever his response, or lack thereof, is after that is unknown because Bayley is out the door and on her way to invite Solana to what is sure to be a night of fun.

________

“Man, I tell you every dish Solana makes seems to get better and better.” Jimmy is rubbing his stomach as he places the now cleaned plate on the coffee table. “Where she been at all our lives?”

Once upon a time, Roman had a nice, quiet house that was his and his alone. Now though, it’s shared with a wife who really isn’t an issue, two obnoxious cousins who need to start paying rent at this point, and a dog who’s currently at the sliding door leading to the backyard having a one-sided bark off with a squirrel.

“Why are ya’ll always fucking over here?” Roman’s question is said with all the irritation manifesting in his muscular body. At the same time, he stands up from the sofa to retrieve the puppy he doesn’t feel like yelling at to shut up.

She might piss herself in fear or something.

“Come on,” he grunts, leaning over and taking up Dulce who is almost instantly quiet. “Making all that damn noise for nothing.”

Roman places Dulce in her bed in the living room and returns to his previous seat on the sofa when she hops up and walks her ass right over to lean up on the sofa to stare at him with her unspoken request.

Jimmy is the first to notice this. “I think lil Nacho Libre likes you, Uce.”

Jey chimes in between bites of whatever Solana’s latest dish is that she’s made for them. “She know English yet or Soso still got her only speaking Spanish?”

“Man, the dog can’t speak.”

“You know what I mean, motherfucker. Damn.”

Roman ignores the two imbeciles currently freeloading in his house and relents to just letting Dulce on the sofa. He’s not sure why she’s downstairs with them instead off on the second level where the girls are getting ready, but she’s already here now, so no sense in transporting her.

Dulce seems satisfied with her placement right next to him.

“I still can’t believe we weren’t invited.”

“I can get why they didn’t invite us, but they could have at least given Nicki an invite.”

Jimmy is quick with the obvious answer. “You know Nicki don’t fuck with Naomi like that, or Bayley, and definitely not Soso.”

“Cause she’s fucking psychotic.” Roman has zero issues with his cousin’s wife having little to no interest in getting to know Solana. It’s for the better. As he said, the bitch is psychotic.

“Once again, Big Dog, you ain’t gon keep disrespecting my wife like that.”

Roman is as unfazed by Jey’s threat as Dulce is.

“I gotta agree with Uce on that one. Nicki ass crazy as hell. One minute she love you, the next minute she pulling a Left Eye and burning your shit.” That emits a chuckle from him. His cousin's sneaker collection being burned in the backyard that one year was pretty funny.

“Look, that was during a rough patch. That’s all.”

“Damn bruh, ya’ll must got a whole goddamn quilt then, cause your relationship been nothing but rough patches since we was in high school.”

“So what, you and Naomi never have no issues, huh?” Jey lives up to his hotheaded reputation, jumping into defensive mode. “Ya’ll just got the perfect marriage, right?”

“Of course we got issues, man, but never to the point where she turned into a lil arsonist!”

Completely disinterested in hearing dumb and dumber argue, Roman grabs his phone and shoots out a text.

Roman: You almost ready?

Solana’s reply comes in less than five minutes later.

Solana: Just about…..is Dulce by you?

Roman: Yeah. Sleeping….as always.

Solana: Lol….sorry about that, I meant to grab her before we got started.

Roman: It’s fine.

Roman: I need to talk to you before you leave.

He’s not surprised by the longer time it takes for her to reply. He can imagine she’s reading too much into his text.

Solana: Okay....I can come now?

Solana: I just have to put my shoes on….

Roman: I’ll come to you.

Roman knows better than to ask the bumbling idiots to watch Dulce. Their attention span when they get this heated is almost non-existent, so he opts to just take her upstairs with him, figuring he can deposit her in her bed in Solana’s room and that’ll be it for the night.

One down.

Two more to get rid of.

Roman is standing outside of Solana’s door ready to knock when it’s ripped open, and he’s met with an instantly smiling Naomi.

She’s smiling at the damn dog, of course.

“There you are, Dulce.” Roman has no issue whatsoever with letting her take the puppy, talking to it in that weird ass baby voice everyone seems to use around Dulce. He doesn’t get it, but it’s not something he desires to try to get anyway. Naomi calls out over her shoulder, “I’m gonna take her out to pee.”

Bayley shouts from inside the room, “I’ll come with you.”

Roman also has zero issues with that as well. He wants to be alone with Solana before she heads out.

Naomi is heading to the steps when Bayley walks past him, throwing out a rushed, “tell her she looks nice.”

That’s a given, but he gives her a nod, easily stepping in and closing the door behind him. He looks around the room, eyes settling on the connected bathroom where the door is suddenly swung open.

“Guys, are you sure I should wear—” Solana stops when she sees that Bayley and Naomi are no longer present, just him. “Oh, sorry, I thought—never mind.”

Roman would call her out on her apologies, both in the text and just now, but his attention is on something entirely different.

Solana is fucking stunning.

Her dress is orange, thin sleeved and hugs her in a way that makes his jaw clench and dick stiffen. It’s more low cut in the front than he knows she’s probably comfortable with, but if anything, it accentuates just how fucking nice her chest is. There’s a slight split on the side of said dress that shows off her thighs, thick and soft to the touch, he’d imagine. She also has her hair down, something he hasn’t seen in some time, makeup that covers the scar, and lips painted in a teasing red.

Roman has to catch himself because for a brief second, he’s tempted to completely change his mind. She looks too good to leave the house, especially without him present because there’s not a single doubt in his mind that she’ll turn heads.

She always does.

Finally, he’s able to get words to leave his mouth that aren’t as filthy as the thoughts he’s trying to keep locked in the back of his mind. “Jesus, you look amazing.”

Roman has noticed an increasingly difficult time in restraining himself around Solana, not in the sense where he’d completely ignore her trauma and try to touch her in a way that would trigger her. Never that. More so in the way he fantasizes about her in that way, dreams of having her in that way, solely because of his growing physical attraction.

Granted, it’s always been there.

Anyone could see her beauty even in how she would dress down and try to hide her figure, but now that Naomi and Bayley have been encouraging her to be less conservative in her appearance, it’s increased that difficulty exponentially.

“Thank you.” The makeup on Solana’s cheeks helps to mask her growing blush at Roman’s unabashed compliment. She suddenly looks down, nervously running her hand down the dress. “Is it….is it too much?”

Not at all. He might not want anyone else looking at her, but Roman could see her dress like this everyday and never grow tired. Still, his approval isn’t needed nor should she ever look for it. “Do you think it is?”

“I always think it’s too much.” It’s an honest answer, one that’s followed up with a caveat he’s surprised but pleased to hear. “But….but, I do like it.”

“Then that’s all that matters.”

Solana’s smile does something to him. She looks even more beautiful when she’s smiling. “Look….” Roman steps closer to her, trying to ignore her perfume, sweet and soft, a dangerous combination that matches her perfectly. “You need anything tonight, you call or text me, alright?”

She nods and asks. “What about Solo? Isn’t—isn’t that his job?”

It’s not a conscious in as much it is a unconscious thing when he steps even closer to her, moving his hand to the small of her back. Roman gently tugs her toward him, and to his surprise, she doesn’t tense under his touch. “You’re my wife, Solana. My job is always to protect you. He just guards you when I can’t.”

She looks like she’s trying to memorize this piece of information, storing it for future use as necessary knowledge. “Do—do you want to come with us?” Solana’s hand resting on his chest is as surprising as her question. “I could talk to Bayley.”

Roman has never been a social person. To say he hates most people isn’t necessarily an exaggeration. So, the thought of being around a bunch of people he doesn’t know or like outside of Solana and maybe Bayley—she’s not entirely awful—is not appealing as well. That doesn’t stop him, however, from considering the question at hand.

He’s tempted to ask her if she wants him to come, because Roman can find it in himself to withstand socialization for a couple hours.

He’ll do it for her.

But, there’s another part of him, a larger part of him that thinks she needs to do this on her own. That she needs to establish a life and something for herself that doesn’t include him. It’ll be good for her.

“No.” Is his final answer, delivered much gentler than if she was literally anyone else. Roman reaches and plays with a piece of her hair. “Not my scene. Too many people.” Not to mention that his presence would draw too much attention, potentially not good attention. He won’t do that to her. Won’t’ risk ruining her night. “Go. Have a good time.” Again, for good measure, he reminds, “but I mean it. Something is wrong. You call me.”

She nods, and he readies to remind her of his need for words when she answers, “okay.” She then adds on, “I already gave Dulce dinner, so she should mostly sleep, but if you could take her outside every so often….”

“I got it.” He’d much rather sacrifice the couple minutes it takes to bring her outside than risk her shitting or pissing somewhere in his house. Granted, he has to give credit where credit is due. She’s doing great with her potty training. Solana takes great care of her, but that’s not surprising. It’s obvious how much she loves the puppy. “You should be back by midnight, though.”

It’s more a strong suggestion than a demand. Solana is a grown woman. He’s not going to dictate what she does and doesn’t do. She’s had enough of that in her life. He had to give his approval for her to go with Bayley because of safety issues, but this, he wants to leave up to her as long as she understands the later she’s out, the riskier things can get.

After a certain time, only bad or not so great things can happen.

“Of course.” She seems to understand this clearly, but he’d also bet that’s her preference to be back earlier than later. Solana grabs her purse and walks towards the door, having to pass him in the process. Roman catches her, arm around her waist.

She looks up, curious, and he makes note of how she again doesn’t tense under his touch. That’s happening less and less, it seems.

He likes that.

“Text me when you get there.”

She smiles, and Roman suddenly feels a layer of his irritation with his cousins melt away. “I will.” Solana gives him one more glance before walking out the room.

Roman scratches his beard, a part of him wondering if he made the right decision to let her go alone. Granted, he knows he would have never even initially agreed if he didn’t trust Bayley and Naomi’s abilities.

They’d defend Solana as ruthlessly and violently as any of his best men.

That helps to chip away some of his second guessing along with the fact that this is something she clearly wants, and he wants to give her that. Give her anything he can that makes her happy.

She deserves that much.

Granted, that temporary peace is short-lived with the shout from one of his cousins who are apparently still present.

“Ayo, Big Dog, did you change the WiFi password again!”

________

Roman needs a new house.

Maybe have Solana let him know what she likes as far as interior designing goes and have something built with an impenetrable wall around it.

That seems to be the only thing that will keep his annoying ass twin cousins from being at his place so much.

Roman just knew that when the ladies left, they’d leave too. But no, that’s too good to be true, because they’ve been gone almost an hour, and their asses are still here.

Even Dulce is sleeping peacefully like the unemployed bum that she is in her bed kept in the living room.

And as always with them, they’ve been talking damn near the whole hour. One would think Roman straight up ignoring them as he works on his laptop would be a clear sign they need to go the hell home, but that would be too much like right.

He either needs an Excedrin or for his cousins to leave, the latter being preferred most. It’s especially needed when they seem to be watching whatever dumb ass Tok or Reel video over and over again.

“Wait. I know that song,” Jey announces, face scrunched up as he tries to recall the name. All Roman knows is that it’s in Spanish and repetitive as hell on top of being played on repeat. Annoying as hell too. “That lil freak from Miami I used to mess with used to have this shit playing at her crib all the time.”

Jimmy sucks his teeth, asking. “What happened to her?”

“Man, she moved.” Jey shrugs. “She went to go be a freak in Cali.”

Finally, Roman snaps. “Would ya’ll use some damn headphones or something?”

Jimmy is the first to speak. “You might want to watch this, Uce.”

“I don’t care.”

Jey slaps Jimmy on the arm, knowing how to get his cousin’s attention. “Yeah, why would he want to see a video of Solana?”

At that, Roman lifts his gaze.

Jimmy smirks knowingly. “Naomi sent some videos. Check your phone.”

That would explain it. Why Roman was out of the loop. It wasn’t from Solana.

He’d selected a specific text and ringtone notification for her, so he wouldn’t be unnecessarily checking his phone. Hence why he hasn’t checked it since she text that they’d made it to the restaurant.

Opening up the thread that has himself, Naomi, and the twins, he sees the set of messages and videos.

Naomi: Having a blast! Solana especially. I kinda feel like the odd one out cause clearly I don’t know none of these dances 😩 I kinda got the Bachata one, but Merengue and Punta are killing me.

Naomi: Bay and Solana keep trying to teach me, but it’s not going well lmao

Roman watches them all. Every video shows Solana smiling and laughing as she dances with Bayley and Naomi. One of the videos shows her and Bayley trying to instruct Naomi who seems to be failing miserably at learning what he’d guess are traditional Hispanic dances. There’s even a clip of her trying to help a little girl learn whatever dance they’re doing, and she looks just as patient as he’s seen her with the kids she reads to at the library.

She looks fucking gorgeous and happy.

He likes that for her. After everything she’s been through, she deserves all of the happiness.

But, it’s in watching the last video with the song that he kept hearing on loop from his cousin’s phone that he understands why they have it on repeat.

It’s a different kind of dance Bayley and Solana do together along with other women he doesn’t know or give two fucks about. What he gives a fuck about and focuses in entirely on is the way Solana’s hips and ass move, rhythmically, teasingly, drawing out an uncomfortable tightening in his pants.

Fuck.

Roman does his best to push his erotic thoughts away, still trying to figure out how to balance his sexual desire for Solana with the knowledge of her sexual trauma. It almost feels wrong, to feel and want her in that way when he knows how traumatizing that subject is for her. It doesn’t stop the desire though.

“Damn, I knew it had to move, just not like that.”

“Like water.”

It’s probably a combination of his pent up usual, general and sexual frustration, but the dangerously slow way Roman lifts his head and equally slow way he sets his murderous gaze on his cousins is all they need to see to know they’ve gone too far.

And they know it.

Jimmy is instantly on damage control. “I meant—Bayley—you know, cause she—she’s also thick.”

Jey coughs awkwardly, hitting Jimmy on the arm. “I think, uh, we should—we should head out.” And Roman is just as slowly rising from the sofa when the twins literally almost trip over their feet and make a mad dash for the door.

It takes a couple minutes for him to calm down, and he too suddenly finds himself watching said video, casually commenting to Dulce, “about time they fucking left.”

Dulce barks in agreement.

________

Solana laughs along with Bayley and Naomi as they plop down in their seats after an almost four minute song of full out merengue. All are reaching for their respective drinks as Bayley playfully nudges Solana.

“Aren’t you glad you came?”

Just then, Juanita Escobar walks over, Bayley’s mother who carries the same dimple and friendly disposition. She places her hand on Solana’s back, reminding in Spanish, “you must come back and see us again!”

Solana smiles, agreeing, “I will.” She then looks over at Bayley. “If that’s okay?”

Bayley waves her off. “Are you kidding? With how soft and girly you are, you can come be my replacement any time”

Juanita glares at her youngest, muttering to Solana, “maybe you can rub off on my Bay, hmm? Never wanted to do girl stuff. Always wanted to fight with the boys.”

Bayley chugs back some of her drink. “Hell yeah.”

Solana thinks she’d prefer the fighting too. Maybe then she could have defended herself better. Defended her mom even.

Juanita shakes her head, looking at Solana. “Yes, come again, child. You look so much like someone, but I can’t put my hand on it. I’m sure my husband would know. He knows everyone.”

That doesn't necessarily make Solana want to come back, meeting someone, a man specifically. However, if he’s anything like Bayley or Juanita, maybe…maybe it won’t be so bad.

And maybe…maybe she could ask Roman to come with her. That’d make her feel moderately to significantly better. Safer, even.

Juanita is soon pulled away from the table by a customer at the same moment Solana’s phone rings.

Roman: You good?

Solana: Yes.

She bites down on her lip, contemplating if she should hit send on her message. It feels like a risky thing to say, but it’s also how she feels.

And he’s always telling her to be honest with him.

So she is.

Solana: Kinda wish you would have came.

Her fingers nervously tap against the table as she wait for his reply that ends up coming almost immediately.

Roman: That’s your world. Not mine.

Roman: Do you not feel safe?

Solana: No, not that. I guess…...Nvm.

Roman: Tell me.

Again, more hesitation, and she’s not entirely sure where this desire to be honest and almost vulnerable with him comes from, but she does her best not to push it away, almost welcoming the slight discomfort that comes with sending such a risky text.

Solana: Idk, I feel better when you’re around.

He doesn’t reply after that.

Bayley and Naomi share a knowing expression, having watched Solana quietly for the past few minutes. Naomi ends up being the one to lead the conversation. “So how are things going with Roman?”

The question takes her off guard, Solana trying her best to think just how to handle said question.

Roman no longer confuses her. Not nearly as much as her feelings about him confuse her.

She wasn’t lying. She does feel better when she’s around him. And it’s not even that she feels unsafe currently. It’s just that he makes her feel safe in general. That’s such a foreign concept. One she hasn’t experienced in such a long time.

If ever.

Because the truth of the matter is that while Solana felt an indescribable amount of happiness with her mother, there was never really safety. Not with her father’s wrath always waiting around the corner.

So while this is new and unfamiliar, it’s also nice, and she finds herself enjoying his presence. She likes being around him beyond the safety aspect. The way he talks to and with her, like he genuinely enjoys their conversations. When he meets her for work and asks how her day was or finds her in the house to see how her day was, it makes her feel like he actually cares about what she has to say.

Like he actually cares about her.

It’s such a stark contrast of how she sees him interact with others. Always on edge, it seems.

He’s never made her feel that way though. Maybe at the beginning, but that’s starting to feel less like anything he’s done and more like her own trauma.

Trauma….

That’s also been an interesting experience. For the past few weeks, she’s worked out of The Courage to Heal, reading every page as instructed. And it’s been….an emotional time, to say the least. Definitely tears. A lot of them. Mostly shed in the middle of the night when she can’t sleep or on the bathroom floor as she sits against the tub, reading and writing, Dulce right beside her, offering that unspoken emotional support.

It’s been therapeutic and challenging and awful having to confront her demons but also freeing in a strange sort of way. Especially the poems. The words of other victims who express so eloquently and hauntingly beautifully what she still cannot.

One of the things she’s really latched onto and tries to remind herself of is that there are different kinds of touch. Because of the assault, her brain has naturally associated any kind of touch as dangerous, which isn’t always true. Especially in the past few months.

So, there’s been a conscious and active effort to remind herself when Naomi and Bayley hug her or playfully bump her, that it’s safe. That she’s safe.

Especially….especially with Roman.

Especially with how touch between them has seemed to also increase over the past couple weeks. Or maybe less increase in levels and more in frequency. She’ll find his hand on the small of her back, or him taking her hand in his, and sometimes, if they’re close enough, Solana also finds herself reaching for him, for his hand, her hand on his chest.

It’s all so innocent in presentation but something much deeper for her. A level of comfort she’s developed with him that she never had in any prior relationship.

She likes it.

She likes him.

“Solana.”

Jumping at being pulled from her inner dialogue, Solana remembers the initial question being posed.

She clears her throat, finally answering, “umm….good. It’s—it’s good.”

“He’s not being an ass to you, is he?” She asks, almost protectively. “I mean outside of the natural ass that he always is.”

Immediately, Solana is shaking her head, almost feeling a duty to defend him. “No. No. He–he would never. He’s….always nice to me.”

Bayley nearly spits out her drink. “Nice?” She coughs a bit, also shaking her head. “Are we still talking about Roman here? Roman Reigns? That man has never been nice a day in his life.”

Naomi shrugs. “I mean, she has a point. I don’t think I’ve seen him be cruel to her.”

Cruel….Solana also could never find it in her to use that word to describe Roman’s disposition towards her. Maybe others, but never her.

Bayley sits on Naomi’s point, suddenly sharing to the table, “you know what, now that you mention it, when I went to go ask him if I could invite you tonight, he was ready to bite my head off for bothering him. But, the minute I said it had something to do with you, he was all ears. Like an instant switch.”

Solana is also all ears, slightly intrigued. “Really?” Doubt and insecurity creeps in as she weakly suggests, “he was probably like that with Samantha too.”

At that, Bayley and Naomi laugh aloud, Naomi nearly in tears.

“Now that is funny. Solana, Roman don’t give a fuck about that girl. Not outside of sex.”

Solana must look unconvinced, so Bayley points out, “think about it. She’s been around for years, and it’s not her he took down the aisle, so…..” She then adds, “arranged marriage or not.”

The girls bringing up their points takes Solana back to her run-in with Samantha in the bathroom and Nia’s jaw-dropping information.

An idea appears, and Solana is instantly torn on whether to pursue or pop it. Something tells her it’s a bad idea, that she should take his information to the grave, but there’s also that side that feels like she can trust Bayley and Naomi to keep it between the three of them.

Sitting forward, Solana decides to take a risk. “Can I—can I tell you guys something?” Nervously, she stipulates, “but it has to stay between us.”

They look expectedly worried. “Solana, if it has something to do with your safety—”

“No, no that.” Solana almost feels confident enough to say that she’d go to Roman if that was the case. She trusts that she could talk to him if it was something like that.

“Of course, then.”

“Solana, you can tell us anything.”

And for some reason, she knows this to be true. It’s why she battles against her trepidation to open up. “It’s—ummm. I….I found out that when….when Roman was…..having sex with Samantha, he….” There’s a pause caused by the discomfort of such a discussion, but Solana manages to push through. “He said my name.”

Both Bayley and Naomi wear shocked expressions, the former of the two whispering harshly, “holy shit, what?”

Bayley then asks, “wait, how do you know?”

“Nia told me.” Solana has zero desire to wholly revisit that night in the bathroom with Samantha, so she only provides the important part. “She said that Samantha told her friend, I guess. T something?”

“Tiffy.” Bayley rolls her eyes. “Makes sense. That girl can’t hold water.”

“I don’t get it then. He obviously was imagining it was you and not Samantha, so why go fuck her and not you?”

Naomi’s question makes all the sense, but Solana doesn’t really know how to tackle it. This conversation is already difficult enough for her.

But her face must give it away, Bayley seemingly putting two and two together.

“You two haven’t slept together…..have you?” Solana simply shakes her head, unable to verbally confirm and slightly mortified that it’s reached this level of detail.

Solana is certain they must have a million thoughts floating around their head, starting with the how and why. That part…..that part she doesn’t know if she is ready to discuss.

An ironic thing considering she’s just started the chapter in her workbook on sharing her story with trusted people.

The irony.

But instead of invasive questions that heighten her anxiety, Naomi places a comforting hand on her arm.

“Look, I’ve known Roman my whole life, and the guy has been a dick the entire time. He would never hurt a woman, I know that, but he’s also never given a fuck about any of them either. So for him to be the way he is with you when you two haven’t even had sex……there’s something there, Solana.”

“I agree,” Bayley cosigns, saying what Solana has struggled to admit even to herself. “I think he really does like you. In his own Roman sort of way.”

Solana can’t deny the fact that it’s getting increasingly difficult to push away that possibility, even if she still can’t understand the why.

Just what has she done to deserve him liking her?

Maybe it’s not like. Maybe he just tolerates her better than he does others for some reason. Whatever it is, she can’t negate the fact that it must mean something if Naomi, who’s known him her whole life, believes that something is there.

“I’m gonna go to the bathroom.” Solana just needs to get away. Just for a couple minutes. This conversation took a turn she wasn’t expecting, and she needs to settle her emotions.

Bayley seems cautious. “Want me to come with you?”

“No.” The rejection is paired with a kind smile. “I’ll just be a few minutes.”

And before she can get any pushback, Solana makes her way through the dancing crowd and to the back restroom that she’s grateful to see is vacant. Closing and locking the bathroom door, she goes straight for the mirror.

Despite the unexpected amount of dancing and slight sweat, she still looks relatively the same.

The same….

Same.

Even with the makeup and tight little dress, she’s still the same person. She’ll go home tonight, take off the makeup and remove the dress to find the same damaged, scarred girl who can never have something like what Jimmy and Naomi have.

Even if Roman does like her, it won’t last.

She can’t please him.

She could never make Roman happy, could never truly satisfy him, satisfy his needs.

She’s too broken for that.

It brings tears to her eyes.

Unable to withstand the sight of herself, Solana grabs a couple napkins to blow away her tears, tosses them out and heads out the bathroom. Instead of heading back to the table, Solana makes a beeline for the bar.

She’s only had white wine, but white wine isn’t enough. She recognizes where her emotions are taking her, and it’s nowhere good.

Solana refuses to ruin this night for Bayley and Naomi.

The bartender is a young girl, pretty, early to mid twenties. She asks in a friendly, deeply accented voice, “what can I get you?”

Solana is naive to this, to the great array of alcoholic options that litter the counter before her, so she answers the best way she can. Thinking back to the few events she’d be forced to attend with her father and brother, the drinks she always heard people order before getting drunk.

“Vodka and Gin, p—please.”

________

Meanwhile, Bayley and Naomi sit at the table still partially stuck on this unexpected news. But also not entirely surprising. With how sittish Solana can be at times, they have a good, albeit depressing guess as to why sex hasn’t happened between them.

It does bring up a valid question though.

“Wasn’t the whole marriage for the purposes of giving Roman an heir? How is that—”

“Your guess is as good as mine,” Naomi murmurs. “But, I think we both know it’s obvious Solana has some trauma. Touch is clearly hard for her.”

“I know.” Bayley frowns. “I guess I’m just surprised Roman of all people has been so….patient with her.”

“You and me too.” Naomi blows out a breath before again reiterating what she said to Solana. “He must really like her.”

“It’s just hard to tell with him. He’s so damn stoic, but….I think you’re right. I think she likes him too. She’s just…..scared.” Fear is also something Solana deeply struggles with, though Bayley and Naomi both can recognize the progress she’s making towards overcoming those fears.

With a gasp, Naomi grabs her phone, directing Bayley. “Get your phone.”

Bay is confused but follows suit just as Naomi says, “I know who may know.”

Less than a minute later, Bayley’s phone dings with a text notification from a new group she’s in that includes herself, Naomi, Jimmy, and Jey.

Naomi: Sooooo, Bay and I were just talking, and between the four of us, how do you think Roman feels about Solana?

Bayley: And please be honest.

Bayley quickly ensures. “We’re not going to tell them what Solana said, right?”

“Hell no. We could never betray her trust like that.” Bayley is relieved but also not surprised.

Naomi values loyalty just as much as she does.

Jey: Man, I think he really like ole’ girl. Bruh got her a dog, seems to drop whatever he doing when she needs something, and I don’t think I ever heard him say nothing bad about her.

Jimmy: He was definitely annoyed at first when Soso had her lil breakdown at the Warehouse, but that didn’t last long at all.

Bayley: Plus Roman is always annoyed with something or someone.

Naomi: Except her 👀

Jey: Why ya’ll ask?

Naomi: We think Solana really likes him too but is scared to push on it because of her past and just don’t want to encourage her to give it a chance if he’s just gonna hurt her. Ya’ll know how Roman is.

Bayley: A certified ASSHOLE. And a hoe.

Bayley: But, it seems like that’s not the case with her.

Jimmy: I would say he definitely likes her too.

Jey: I mean they are married so….

Naomi: It was arranged. That doesn’t count.

Bayley: Do we know if he’s still fucking around? Primarily with Samantha since she’s been his go-to the past couple years?

Jimmy: I don’t think so. Matter of fact, I guess she said some smart shit to Soso in the bathroom on NoC and Big Dog wasn’t having it.

Jey: He’s apparently planning to pay her a lil visit….with Nia.

Naomi: Oh my god, is he finally gonna let Nia kill her?

Jimmy: Naw, just fuck her up real good, I think.

Naomi: Damn.

Bayley: That’s wild for him to cut her off like that after all this time. Def sounds like he likes Solana to me too…..

Jey: Ya’ll really think he about to admit that shit though?

Naomi: No more than she is. He’s stubborn, and she’s so insecure.

Jimmy: Ya’ll thinking what I’m thinking? 👀

*Jimmy changed the group chat name to Operation RoSo*

Naomi: Bae, what is this damn title?

Jimmy: It’s our latest covert operation. We gotta get Roman and Soso to admit they like each other!

Jey: And just how the hell is we supposed to do that? Like Bay said, Uce is an ass sometimes.

Bayley: All the time unless you’re Solana….

Naomi: I mean, not to be vain, but if you look like Roman, you can kinda get away with being an ass. To some extent.

Bayley: You’re not wrong. He is gorgeous. 😮‍💨

Jimmy: He alright, I guess. His ears kinda big.

Naomi: Bae, I love you, but let’s not lie. Your cousin is an asshole, yes, but he’s also fine as hell.

Bayley: That’s not the only thing said to be big…..

Naomi: Girl….

Bayley: They can’t all be lying.

Jey: ANYWAYS!

Jey: What if they’re coming together at they own pace and we should just leave shit alone?

Jimmy: 😐

Jimmy: That’s about the dumbest fucking thing I done heard all day. What next you gon say, huh? That they just magically gon fall in love on their own too? No! They clearly need our help!

Naomi: Maybe less help and more a shove in the right direction?

Bayley: A gentle push!

Naomi: Yes!

Jey: All I know is if shit backfires, I’m not taking the heat for none of ya’ll asses. Ya’ll gon have to deal with Big Dog.

Jimmy: Then we’ll just put Solana in front of us. He can’t hurt us then!

Jimmy: See…..I’m smart with this shit. That’s why Imma be the brains of this operation.

________

“What do you mean she’s drunk?”

Roman’s night suddenly went from uneventful and quiet, his preference, to unexpected and infuriating, all with a walk from upstairs to downstairs where he finds Solana awkwardly standing in the living room. Bayley and Naomi wait at the bottom of the steps with nervous expressions.

Good.

They should be scared shitless, because one glance at Solana, the gloss over her eyes, and he can tell she’s all but wasted.

“You were supposed to be watching her.” Roman is fucking irritated. He knew it was a bad idea to leave these two in charge of Solana.

Bayley, however, seems unbothered by his anger. “She’s not a child, Roman. Were we supposed to stop her from drinking too? We had no idea she asked for something stronger.”

It’s an excuse, and Roman doesn’t do excuses. “What happened?”

Naomi answers this time around. “We don’t know.”

“You don’t know?” One. They’re lying, and Roman hates liars. Two. They’re lying, and Roman has literally killed people for less. Three. They’re lying, and he wants to know why. “You’ve both got less than a minute to give me the truth—”

“Look, we talked about some things, and we promised to keep it between the three of us, so I’m not telling you what exactly it was, but I can tell you she’s not in danger.” Bayley is smart. She must know that he’d literally torture the information out of her if it had anything to do with Solana’s safety.

“It was just…some stuff about her past. I think it may have been too much, and she decided to get drunk to not think about it.” Naomi’s suggestion makes sense and pans out, but Roman can’t stop thinking about just what she shared with them.

Was it the rape? But why? He remembers her terror in the locker room that day, the fear and pain in her eyes and voice as she pleaded with him to not make her talk about it. It doesn’t make sense why she would suddenly share it.

Even with how close she seems to them.

“Just leave.”

Roman will deal with them later. Right now, his priority is getting Solana settled.

They seem to know better than to push his patience, asking that he at least keep them updated on how she’s doing in the morning.

He neither agrees or disagrees. It’ll heavily depend on how fucked up Solana is.

Once they’re gone, Roman walks into the living room to find her laid on the sofa, eyes glazed over from her drunkenness but that same beautiful smile on her just as beautiful face.

“Solana.” She’s so gone that it makes him wonder even more again just how upset she must have been. “I need to get you to bed.”

He needs sleep too, feeling the length and weight of the day starting to take a toll.

She’s protesting almost right away. “I’m not t–tired.”

“Maybe not, but you will be tomorrow.” Roman knows she’s in for one hell of a hangover.

“I don’t—I don’t want to sleep.” She’s almost pouting, brows caved together as she stumbles through more words. Solana suddenly stands up, and he naturally moves closer to her, noticing the almost sway she does onto the floor. “I just—have bad dreams and—and you’re just—just gonna leave once I sleep anyw—way.”

“What do you mean by that?” He asks. Getting answers from a drunk person usually isn’t the best or smartest thing in the world, but something tells Roman that Solana is the type of drunk person who ends up spilling secrets. And he’s certain there’s a lot she’s probably still keeping in.

She then issues an unexpected accusation. “You—you’re—you’re gonna go be with Samantha—that’s who you want.”

Roman finds her question slightly ironic considering he’s been letting Samantha think she got away with whatever disrespectful shit she said to Solana on the Night of Champions. He’s letting her think she’s safe and waiting for the right moment to set her ass straight, Nia tagging along to deliver the physical message he can’t.

“Af–after all.” Solana continues, surprising him with her openness that’s most definitely fueled by her inebriation. “Why—why would you want me?” She points to herself, voice taking on a softer, vulnerable tone. “Why—why would anyone want me?”

He’s silent for a good minute, sitting on such a heavy question. “Is that really what you think?” It’s asked in a low voice, and he’s not entirely sure if it’s more him thinking aloud or if he genuinely wants to know if that is how she really views herself.

She shakes her head, nodding in a way that further signifies how drunk she is. “It’s like you said, I’m mentally u–unstable.”

For a second, Roman’s confused, but he quickly thinks back to their wedding night, to his hurtful words to her. Words he’d give anything to take back now.

With an almost frown, he acknowledges his fault. “I was wrong to say that to you, Solana. You are not that.” Truthfully, with all she’s been through, even if she was, he couldn’t fault her.

With a family like hers, she never had a fucking chance.

Solana seems almost confused by his apology, taking him back with the next thing that leaves her mouth. “Is it—is it true you—you said my name when you were with S—samantha?”

He definitely wasn’t expecting that, has no idea how she even knows that. Is that what Samantha told her in the bathroom? Why would she? It does nothing to make her look good. Regardless, drunk or not, Roman sticks with his word that he won’t lie to her.

“Yes.”

Even drunk, he can tell how shocked she is by his admission. Shaking her head, she says either to herself or him—he can’t really tell. “I—I don’t get it.” Before he can say anything else, she starts on this train of self-hatred. “She’s pretty and—and—skinny and—she’s not—broken like me.”

That does something to him, Roman moving closer to bring one hand to the small of her back and the other to her face. “You’re not broken, Solana.”

“Yes–yes, I am. You don’t—you don’t know what—what happened to me.” Her bottom lip trembles as she shakes her head, hands on his chest. “I can’t—I can’t do what—what she does—can’t—give you t–that.”

He shifts his hand to the back of her head, forcing her blurry gaze to stay on him. “Baby….” It tears him the fuck up hearing her acknowledge the lingering trauma he’s certain she’ll always carry to some extent, but even more to hear how lowly she really thinks of herself. “I don’t—”

“I can’t—I can’t because—” Her voice cracks, her eyes focused everywhere but him as she almost comes to this heartbreaking realization that her drunkenness briefly helped her escape these thoughts that have now returned. “—b–because they r–raped me, and now I don’t—I don’t know how—how to be with anyone.” She gasps and sniffles, shaking her head. “I should—should have f–fought h-harder—”

“Don’t you ever fucking say that, you hear me?” Roman’s voice somehow contains all the conviction yet gentleness he can muster. Hearing her even think that makes him feel something he can’t fully describe. It’s heavy as fuck though. “You were a child, Solana. It wasn’t your fault.”

“You were a kid.” He has to say it again, because that’s the hardest part in all of this, knowing how young she was. “You should have been protected, and you weren’t, and I’m going to make sure every son of a bitch involved in what happened to you pays for that shit. I promise you that. The same way that I promise with my life, I’ll never let anyone ever hurt you again.”

She’s clearly taken back by his words, by his vow. “I don’t—I don’t—understand w–why? Why—why would you do that?”

Roman isn’t sure he has an answer for that specifically, but he does have something else he can provide her, a small part of him knowing, hoping maybe, there’s very little from tonight she remembers come tomorrow morning.

“Because someone needs to protect you.” Roman swallows, adding before he even realizes what he’s saying. “Because I don’t want Samantha.” He brushes his thumb over her cheek, intentionally wiping her tears. “I want you.”

And suddenly, it’s so much easier to say it aloud, to voice to her what he still doesn’t entirely understand, why he feels drawn to her in ways he doesn’t understand. There’s a connection almost, a connection of mutual loss that’s formed some sort of bridge Roman is unsure just when he started crossing

She looks more stunned at his admission than anything else he’s ever said to her. Still, she seems to try to discredit him. “But—but she—”

“She’s not you.” His voice unintentionally softens. “No one’s like you.”

Selfishly, he hopes she doesn’t remember much or any of this conversation, less painful for her, more time for him to figure out what it is about this woman that he feels so deeply drawn to.

Again, she tries to downplay her worth. “I can’t—I can’t—give you what you need.”

And somehow he knows exactly what she means. What she’s referring to.

“I don’t need that from you.” Truth be told, he doesn’t want to need anything from her. Needing anything in general has never been his thing. He just knows that, for some reason, he wants her around.

He likes having her around him.

She’s blinking again and places her hand against her head, sharing, “my h–head hurts.” It’s not an intentional deflection, he’s certain, but it’s appreciated.

This is a much deeper conversation than he anticipated having tonight.

“You need to get to bed. The sooner you can start sleeping this off, the better.” He eyes her skeptically, asking, “can you walk?”

He should have already known the answer, because the minute she tries to pull away from him to walk, she sways almost immediately, Roman going right back to holding her. “Come here.” He expects her to tense up as he moves to lift her up bridal style, but she doesn’t. She just continues to look confused, clearly overwhelmed with all of her emotions.

Roman doesn’t say anything as he carries her up the stairs and doesn’t think twice about taking her to his room instead of hers.

He needs to monitor her tonight, and that’s easier done with her in his room.

She looks around still confused but doesn’t say anything as Roman lowers her down on the edge of his bed. Naturally, he’s on one knee before her.

“I’m gonna take these off.” He refers to her heels which could largely be a contributing factor for her to inability to walk. She nods, and he quickly unstraps and tosses the heels to the side. “Do you want to change?”

She nods and then adds, “I don’t have—my clothes….”

Roman is at his dresser, pulling out a shirt that he reaches to her. “You can wear this for tonight.”

She accepts it from him, turning to walk to the bathroom, Roman relieved to see the removal of her heels helps her to at least make it without falling.

While she’s changing, he heads back downstairs to get Dulce.

He knows she’s used to sleeping with Solana and will probably throw a fit or spend the night crying if that doesn’t happen, so a small sacrifice is made as he also brings up Dulce’s bed from the living room and places it on the side of his bed.

One night of her sleeping in his room won’t kill him.

It’s then that Solana walks out the bathroom, changed out of her dress and her face free from the makeup.

“I washed my face….hope that was o–okay.”

“It’s fine, Solana.” Roman is half expecting to have to instruct her to lay down, but she again stays with the theme of surprises tonight and walks over to the bed, pulling back the covers and climbing in.

He’s again ready to explain that he’ll be in the guest room across the hall but will be available if she needs anything. He’ll still be checking in on her occasionally, regardless.

But, before he can explain as such, she asks in the softest, most vulnerable voice, “will you lay with me?”

It’s an extremely unexpected question with an easy answer.

Roman’s answer is to move into the bed with her, half expecting her to freak out in one way or another. This close proximity is so unlike her, a complete contrast to what she’s usually comfortable with.

However, what he doesn’t expect is the way Solana moves her body close against his, pressing herself into his side, arm over his stomach and head on his chest.

In a switching of roles, Roman is the one to initially tense. This is more physical contact than they’ve ever had, and there’s not a doubt in his mind that if not for the alcohol in her system, she’d have a fucking meltdown touching him this much.

But in her drunken, highly intoxicated state, that’s not an issue. She wants to be close to him, wants to be pressed up against him.

She’s looking for comfort.

And truthfully, he wants it too. Roman likes the feel of her next to him, actually uses his other arm to tug her closer, noticing how she adjusts her head on his chest.

Her hand is planted against his chest, and he starts to tell her to rest, to encourage her to sleep this off. But, she once again beats him to it, asking yet another question.

“Why—why are you doing this?”

To be fair, Roman only answers her truthfully because he’s betting on her being so close to the edge of sleep that the chances of her remembering this rare shred of vulnerability are slim to none.

“Because—because I know what it’s like to not have anyone.” There’s a sense of hesitation and discomfort as he verbalizes what he’s never once openly discussed with anyone. “Because I didn’t just lose my mom when I was ten. I lost my entire family. My parents. My aunt. My uncle. And all of my siblings. I—I was the only one who made it out alive that night, and I spent years not knowing why, why I was left alone.”

Roman doesn’t want sympathy, doesn’t want people feeling fucking sorry for him. He never has. But the way Solana lifts her head to look at him is a look of something else, something that likens understanding and compassion.

The latter of which is almost an unfamiliar concept.

“I didn’t—I’m sorry.” She lays her head back against his chest, moving even closer. She then murmurs into him, almost reassuringly, “you don’t—you don’t have to be alone anymore.”

Roman doesn't know what to say to that, so he doesn’t.

He says nothing.

________

Waking up in Roman’s bed wearing only his shirt is the last thing Solana expects along with the fact that the minute her eyes open, she’s hit with instant throbbing of her head.

She winces, confused about so many things as she forces herself to sit up, mind immediately wandering to a single question.

Where is Roman?

Her question is easily answered when she spots the notebook on his nightstand. She reaches for it, squinted eyes reading over his words.

Solana,

I’m sorry I had to leave. I have a meeting with the Elders I, unfortunately, can’t miss. I’ll be back right after.

If not for that, I would have stayed with you.

You most likely won’t remember last night, but you got drunk. Very. You’re gonna wake up with a nasty hangover. Take the Aspirin. It’ll help.

I gave Dulce her breakfast and took her outside. She should be fine.

I also let your job know you’re not coming in today.

Rest.

Roman

There’s so much to process in such a straightforward letter. What did he mean by stay with her? Did—did they sleep in the same bed?

For some reason, that’s not as anxiety inducing as she imagined it would be. She doesn’t know the why or how, but it doesn't bring that heavy weight on her chest.

The drunk part triggers brief memories of the night prior. Bayley and Naomi. The celebration. Dancing. Fun. Happiness.

A switch.

At some point in the night, her mood shifted into something else. Solana remembers asking for a drink, but she doesn’t remember much after that. Glimpses. An almost sympathetic look from Roman. His arms around her. Him holding her.

It makes for a confusing story she doesn’t really have the wherewithal to deal with. She instead reaches over and swallows the Aspirin.

And she goes right back to sleep.

________

Roman finds himself completely bypassing his office, clearing his schedule, and moving his phone’s status to Do Not Disturb.

He’s not in the mood to deal with any of that shit today. At least not for a couple more hours. He needs to make sure Solana is situated first.

Thinking about her resurfaces his earlier level of anger at how the meeting with the Elders ended.

“What of the girl?”

This was the part of the hour meeting that caught his attention the most. Everything else was trivial and, in his opinion, a waste of time. But, it’s when Elder Aleki brings up Solana that Roman’s focus is recentered.

“What about her?”

He’s not stupid. Far from it. Roman knows exactly where this is headed. It was partially expected. What he didn’t expect was the anger that’s already brewing at just how Solana was referred to as ‘the girl.’

Aleki is bold with his questioning, jumping straight to the point. “Is she still not pregnant yet? It’s been almost four months.”

Roman’s jaw clenches, and he finds himself squeezing the armrest of his chair as he does his best to keep his voice somewhat subdued. “I’m aware of how long it’s been.”

Another elder, Sione, decides to join in on this conversation that Roman is about to shut down in less than a minute. “Perhaps she should have another medical evaluation. By one of our doctors—”

“The hell she will.”

Rikishi shoots Roman a warning look, quietly, muttering an equally pleading, “language, Uce.”

Roman straight up ignores him. Rikishi still adheres to those outdated traditions that just because someone has more years on this earth than you that they automatically deserve respect. Fuck that. Roman gives respect when it’s earned, and Aleki and Sione have been on his shit list for years.

He’ll never forgive them for their behavior after the death of his family, their questioning of Roman’s birthright to the throne.

Aleki releases a heavy sigh, and Roman has to restrain himself from not bashing the old man’s head into the table. “All we’re saying is if she is incapable of producing a child to continue the Bloodline, then we have no use for her and should seek to find you a better—”

That’s when Roman has enough. To suggest Solana be examined again. which would no doubt be triggering as fuck for her, is one thing. But, it’s an entirely different thing for them to have the unmitigated gall to suggest he get rid of her.

Over his dead fucking body.

Roman shoots up from the chair. “My wife isn’t going anywhere nor is anyone at this fucking table going to make her do shit.”

Rikishi shoots more than just his subtle warning this time around. “Roman, please—”

Roman’s not trying to hear that shit from him, though. He’s not trying to hear shit from anyone.

“Our marriage is nobody’s fucking business but our own. That includes when she gets pregnant. We’ll share it when we want to.”

Truthfully speaking, this isn’t something Roman has thought much about, an intentional thing. The fact that the marriage was originally and solely arranged so that she could give him an heir is irrelevant to him right now, regardless of what they think.

That’s not a priority.

“You may be the Elders, but I sit at the head of the table.” The Bloodline has always been successful and profitable, but it’s no doubt exceeded any and all records and expectations since Roman became the head. That’s an indisputable fact. “Don’t fucking forget who made this table what it is today.”

The ending of the meeting is still playing in the back of his head like a bad song on repeat. If not for his semi level of respect and acknowledgement of their standing as Elders, he would have put a bullet in their heads the minute that disrespectful shit started leaving their mouths.

In no fucking universe is anyone taking Solana from him. He doesn’t give a flying fuck whatever the original reason was for their marriage. She’s his now, and nothing is changing that.

Roman makes active efforts to calm himself before walking back into the house. After last night, the last thing she needs is to be unintentionally triggered.

He finds her on the sofa, writing in her journal, Dulce right beside her sleeping peacefully without a care in the fucking world. Roman halfway expected her to be out back on the patio, a seemingly favorite spot of hers.

But the sunlight would no doubt exacerbate the remnants of her hangover he’s certain she’s still battling, so it makes sense she’s indoors. It’s when she looks up, noticing his presence that Roman also realizes she’s still only wearing his shirt.

For some strange reason, he likes that. Likes seeing her in his clothes.

“Hey…”

“Hey.” Roman sits on the sofa opposite from her. He takes her in, watching her set her journal to the side and as he notices her hair is pulled up. “How you feeling?”

She shrugs, making a face that suggests some level of discomfort. “My head still kinda hurts, but I guess—that’s to be expected.” He starts to ask her if she’s drunk enough water, recognizing the importance of staying hydrated a night after heavy drinking, but she’s suddenly pleading with him almost. “Please don’t be upset with Bayley and Naomi. It’s not their fault.”

To be fair, he hadn’t thought about them until now. “They were supposed to watch you.”

“They did. I—I got back fine.” She seems almost worried for them, for their safety. He would never actually kill either woman. He’ll just probably never trust them to take Solana out again in life. But no murder would actually happen. Still, it’s the part where Solana says she got back fine that irks him. He does his best to mask that irritation though.

“You weren’t fine last night, Solana.” She was far from it, more emotional than he’s seen her in some time, if ever.

Her shoulders drop, almost in shame. “I don’t—I don’t remember much of it.”

He’s thankful for that. For the both of them. “You were upset.” It’s not a lie nor is it specific. It’s just the truth.

She then asks with almost hesitant curiosity. “W–what did I say?”

Roman shakes his head. “It doesn’t matter.” He doesn’t like being dismissive towards her, doesn’t like being dishonest, something he swore he wouldn’t do. But, she was an emotional wreck last night, and the last thing he wants is for her to go through all of those emotions yet again.

He doesn’t like seeing her upset.

But then she looks at him, studying him almost, a sad, almost tearful chuckle leaving her mouth. He watches as she brings her legs up to her chest and rests her chin against her knees. She asks, volume barely over a whisper, “I told you last night, didn’t I?” Roman realizes it’s less a question and more a heavy realization. “That—that I was raped. Didn’t I?”

It’s a bit of a lose–lose situation. Either he tells her no and risks her feeling bad for sharing something she didn’t have to or he confirms what she already knows and still feels not great.

They’re both shitty options, but he ultimately goes the route of honesty. “Yes.”

“It’s weird. I—” She looks away, eyes shutting for a minute before she unexpectedly explains, “I’ve been—I’ve been working out of this book for people who were…assaulted like me, and I’m–at the part where its recommended I tell at least one person because—because it’s not healthy to keep it to myself.”

Roman knows exactly what book she’s talking about. It was the key that led to him figuring out just what happened to her. That still fucks with him. Still makes him fill with silent rage at her piece of shit family letting that happen to her.

“You’re now the first person I’ve ever told.” Roman hates that even more.. Hates that someone like him is who she ended up breaking her silence with. He wishes it was either Bayley or Naomi. They’re much better at this sort of thing. The feelings thing. “I don’t—I don’t like talking about it.”

“You don’t have to.” He isn’t sure he’d be able to control his anger hearing details, hearing anything about it to be honest, not coming from her. His rage would be intractable.

She nods, almost appreciatively. “That's why sex is—it’s hard for me.” He fully understands that, and a small part of him hates how he tried to initiate that with her on their wedding night. He figured her nerves were because of her naturally anxious personality. Never once did it cross his mind that it was because of something much darker. “And it’s not—it’s not like I don’t think about it sometimes, about being close to someone like that, I do.” This piece does surprise him, but he works hard not to think too much about it right now. He wants to be in this moment with her. “ I—I have. But, every time I try, I just—I get flashbacks, and I can’t.” She ends on an almost whisper, Roman’s stomach tightening as she quickly wipes at a tear.

He doesn’t like seeing her cry.

“You don’t owe me an explanation, Solana.” Not him or anyone else, for that matter.

She doesn’t say anything for a good minute before asking, “what happens now?”

That’s a great fucking question, and he almost has the same towards a lot of things. He’s curious though what she’s specifically referring to. “What do you mean?”

Solana seems almost frightened as she asks, “are you—are you gonna send me back to my father?”

Yeah, he could have never in a million years guessed that. “Why would you ever think I would do that?”

And he suddenly hates asking, hates seeing the way the emotion builds back up. “I’m not—not a virgin, and—” Her eyes close, her grip around her legs tightening. “You….you only married me because—”

“I don’t care about that.” This is his second time today having to face some level of this discussion, but this round is significantly gentler. Roman does his best to illustrate the conviction in his voice while also being mindful of her emotions. “What do you want, Solana?”

He has no idea what she’s going to say, but he does know for a fact he would never send her back to that hellhole. It would be like sending her to her own death.

She seems to really think about his question, think about something he’s certain she’s never had a lot of.

Options.

Finally, after what feels like hours, she answers. “I want to stay here.” Roman’s unsure why he feels a small sense of relief at her answer, like anything other than that would have made him uncomfortable or upset. Solana wets her lips, continuing, “I like—I like living here.” And in an even smaller voice, she adds, “I like being with you.”

He doesn’t say anything, and neither does she. Roman is certain it’s because they’re both trying to process and register what this may mean, what this new piece of information means for them moving forward.

Roman sits forward and motions with his index and middle finger. “Come here.”

He sees it instantly. The initial hesitation, the brief flash of fear, but it’s gone before he can offer reassurance. Solana lowers her legs and walks over to him, Dulce remaining sleeping and unmoving. Not once does Roman remove his gaze from her as he takes her hand, giving a gentle tug to guide her down on the sofa next to him. He slides his arm behind her, holding her body against him, his tattooed forearm across her stomach.

Roman watches the way her eyes close, recognizes that she’s trying to manage her emotions. He sees the little nod she gives herself, as if assuring herself that she’s safe. And he swears he sees her mouth as such.

Mouth the word ‘safe.’

Solana moves her hands to his forearm, as if holding onto him for some sense of comfort.

He does his best to reassure her. “Relax…”And it seems to do something to help her, offering such a simple yet strong form of solace. “I’d never send you back there. Ever.” And that’s a fucking promise. “You’ll stay here. With me.”

“I’m—” Her voice is less emotional than before. It’s still there, but he can tell it's waning with each second that passes, her comfort level growing. “I’m supposed to give you an heir. What if—what if people start—”

“I’ll take care of it.” And he will. He already started with the Elders earlier today, but she doesn’t need to know that.

She angles her head up to look at him. “But—”

Roman brings his hand to her face, gently palming her cheek. “I’ll take care of it.” He moves his thumb over the apple of her cheek and part of her scar. “Alright?”

Solana nods with her acknowledgement but says nothing else as she lays back against him. He notices the absence of tension and discomfort. She’s fully relaxed against him, and Roman acts more out of instinct than anything as he presses lips against her temple for a brief kiss, still mindful of her comfort level. “I’ve got you…”

Everything happening in the past few minutes has been both unexpected and confusing, but there’s nothing confusing about the way Solana suddenly turns her body into him, laying her head on his chest. He watches her eyes close, signifying another layer of fear being peeled back.

He sits there for who knows how long with her, holding her, noticing the slight rise and fall of her body against his, a sign that she’s fallen asleep. He lets her sleep, lets her rest, lets her stay close to him, under him, with him.

Roman thinks back on his question to her about what she wanted. He’s not sure what he would have said if she said she wanted to leave, because the truth of the matter is that Roman’s starting to think that he couldn’t let her go.

That he can’t.

Even if she wanted to leave.

#roman reigns fic #roman reigns x black!oc #roman reigns #arisnotebook #roman reigns x black!reader

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nicoline1998enilocin · 1 year

Text

''I'm in love with you, you grump!''

PAIRING | Bucky Barnes x Shy!Avenger!Female!Reader

WORD COUNT | 1.6K

SUMMARY | You're currently on a mission with Sam and Bucky, so in order to blow of some steam the three of you decide to go to a bar. During the evening Sam brings up the topic of your dating life, and suddenly Bucky gets very grumpy, but you can't seem to figure out why. You're not exactly comfortable with the topic either, but his reaction seems a bit much in your eyes.

WARNING(S) | This is your official trigger warning. Do not proceed if any of these topics upset you. Reader is a bit shy, with a hint of social anxiety, Bucky and Reader are oblivious to each other's feelings, Sam is a bit of an instigator, confessed romantic feelings.

Likes, comments and reblogs will be very much appreciated 💜

Main Masterlist | Bucky Barnes Masterlist

''Hey doll, want to join us at the bar? We're heading there later and Sam and I thought it might be fun to go all together,'' Bucky asked, even though he knew full well Sam didn't mind either way. ''Uh, do I have to...? I'd rather stay at the hotel, Buck,'' you tried, you weren't a big fan of going out, let alone going to a crowded bar on a Saturday evening. Every time they are going somewhere they try to get you to come with them, but you're not much of an outgoing person, or a people-person, for that matter. Sure, you were fine around Bucky, but the two of you spend a lot of time together, but you rarely hang out with Sam aside from missions.

''Please?'' Bucky asked with big puppy dog eyes, and as much as you didn't want to say no, you couldn't resist. ''Fine, but I won't dress up or anything, and I will stay for only an hour, that's it. ''It wouldn't want it any other way, doll,'' he said as he put his hand on your hip and he put a small kiss on your forehead as a thank you, which sets your inside completely ablaze at just the simplest of touches. This crush you had on Bucky is getting out of hand, and you don't know how much longer you can hold it in before you snap and accidentally tell him how you feel.

The weather is very nice where your mission is located, so you opt to go for a simple summer dress and a pair of Converse, your hair in a simple ponytail, and very little make-up. The dress shows a little more skin than you're used to, but you've been trying to step out of your comfort zone a little bit, trying to get rid of your shy-girl persona and instead being the badass you know you can be. This seems like a good start in your mind, and not much later all three of you are heading to a bar, you're clinging to Bucky's arm as if your life depends on it. ''You okay, doll?'' he whispered in your ear, you must have been squeezing harder than intended. ''Uh, yeah I guess,'' you muttered.

God, you were feeling very uncomfortable, not just with your outfit choice, but with everything around you. There were too many people doing who knows what, and the air in the bar seems a little bit constricting, but you promised Bucky an hour so that's the least you will do for him. In all honesty, you'd do almost anything for him if he asked, but that's mainly due to this crush you've had on Bucky, which honestly feels more like you've fallen head over heels in love with the super soldier, the more you think about it. When the three of you arrive at the bar you immediately go seek out a place to sit, and much to your relief, you find a booth in a quiet part of the bar.

''Can I get you guys anything to drink?'' Bucky asked and you just nodded, Sam ordered a beer. ''Anything specific you might like?'' he smiled at you, turning a bit flustered and red at the question. ''Uh... I- uh, I'll take a beer too, please,'' you stuttered, hoping the floor would just open up and swallow you whole right then and there. ''Alright, three beers coming right up,'' he said as he walked to the bar. Neither you nor Sam said anything while he was away, and you didn't mind. You got your phone out of your bag and started scrolling through social media to keep your mind a little busy until Bucky came back. Not long after he returned, handing you your beer and you gave him a smile as a thank you.

''So, anything new with you guys?'' Sam asked, and he and Bucky were in a conversation about something you didn't particularly care for, so you were just picking at the label on your bottle. This was how it usually went and also the reason you'd rather have stayed back at the hotel. You were deep in thought and didn't notice the men across from you were looking at you expectantly. ''Uh, sorry, did you- did you ask something?'' you said as you turned bright red, not looking either of them in their eyes because you were embarrassed. ''It's okay, Y/N, no need to be shy!'' Sam said, which only made you feel worse. ''I asked if there's anything new in your dating life,'' he said again, and it didn't help much.

''Uh, no, yeah, I have been on a few dates, but it wasn't going anywhere,'' you said, mostly because you were afraid to text them back after the date, and it never got past one, if you didn't walk out during the date itself. ''You know how it goes,'' you said with a shy chuckle, which immediately died down as soon as it left your throat, you were feeling extremely uncomfortable. The main reason it never went anywhere however, is because they weren't Bucky, but you would never admit that to anyone, the bond you have with him is special and you don't want to risk losing that connection you two share.

The moment you finished your answer you immediately dropped your eyes down, to where your fingers were still picking at the corners of the label on your bottle. Because you did this you didn't see the way Bucky's face dropped at the mention of you going on dates, you never told him that and he wasn't all too happy with it in all honesty. He got up and stomped out of the bar, he needed some fresh air to clear his mind a little bit because he almost told you he wishes you would have gone on a date with him, and he didn't want to tell you like that. You quickly went after him after apologizing to Sam.

''Buck, what's wrong?'' you asked as you grabbed his arm when you were both outside. He pulled his arm away from you and ran his hands through his hair to make sure he wouldn't do anything stupid right now. ''Why didn't you tell me why you went on dates? I always tell you everything, even when I have a date,'' Bucky said, not sure why he would emphasize that part exactly. ''I-, I'm sorry, I just didn't want to mention it, in case it would make you uncomfortable. I mostly went on those dates to get you out of my head, but it never worked,'' you said now that you got a sudden confidence boost. You don't have a single clue where it came from, but you would embrace it for however long it lasted.

''Why-, wait, get me out of your head? Did I ever do anything to hurt or upset you for you to need me out of your head?'' he said and he slowly started spiraling a little bit. ''Buck, no, please look at me, you never did anything wrong-'' you said but his face said all you needed to know. He started pacing back and forth over the sidewalk and didn't look at you, so you took measures into your own hands by grabbing his arms. ''Bucky, look at me, please! I never told you I went on dates because I'm in love with you, you grump! I have been head over heels for you ever since we first met, and that's why I never told you. I thought that if I went on dates, I would get those thoughts and feelings out of my head, but they never did,'' you explained, finally looking into his eyes as you confessed your feelings. What Bucky did next honestly surprised you to your core.

''I'm in love with you too, doll, fuck it feels good to finally say it out loud! I've been trying to keep it shoved away because I thought you didn't feel the same, but now that I know you do, I just want to tell you a thousand, no a hundred thousand times how much I love you, and how in love I am with you!'' he said as he let out a nervous laugh, he was completely overcome with relief and still finds it hard to believe your feelings are out in the open now. On a whim he grabbed your face and placed his lips onto yours, hoping that if it was a dream, he would have at least felt your lips at least once, but it isn't a dream, it was real, and you couldn't be happier.

''Thank god, now I can finally breathe normally around you guys!'' Sam exclaimed as he walked out of the bar with a huge grin on his face. You and Bucky quickly pulled apart and let each other go, mostly out of reflex as it kind of felt like he caught the two of you doing something unspeakable. ''Don't stop on my account, I don't care what the two of you do as long as you both keep it in your pants,'' he said and you turned bright red and you stared at the pavement, you would never get used to comments like that. ''Doll, can you look at me?'' Bucky said as he placed a finger under your chin and lifted it to meet his gaze. ''I love you, and I will never let you go now that I know you love me too,'' he said, sealing it with another soft kiss on your lips. You felt truly happy in this moment, and wouldn't change it for the world.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky fanfic #bucky x female reader #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes fluff

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yandere-kokeshi · 9 months

Note

May I request Yandere!Ghost and König (Not poly pls) who has darling who tries to convince him that he needs help, but isn’t rude or mean about it! She genuinely wants to help him? Please and thank you!

— Yandere Ghost and König with female darling, who tries to convince them that they need help

Warnings: yandere behavior and slight delusional behavior. Also, fem reader.

A/N: I loved this. I hope you enjoy <3

Simon “Ghost” Riley:

He’s offended — what do you mean he requires help?

When you speak to him calmly, he narrows his eyes, looking at you with slight annoyance. Even though he knows you mean good, he will turn you down completely.

Simon, whilst also aware of his behavior, believes it’s there for a reason — to protect you. He’s not going to open up to some therapist, or some police to have a chance of you getting away and getting hurt.

Despite your wishes, he will say no. He can see your reasoning, but he’s keeping away from any professionals because he knows how they’ll react once and if he opens up.

And if you ask for a reason, he’ll ignore the question and immediately guilt-trip you into understanding that you’re the only one who understands him. That everyone is out to get you, and they’ll take you away from him. And you wouldn’t like that, now, would you?

König:

He’s taken back — what do you mean he needs help? Don’t you realize that this type of love is just normal?

But as he listens to you, he somehow takes it, in his own delusional way, that you must be afraid of him. That his suffocating coddling, and continuous dog-following patterns are too much, and you’re just nervous. There’s no need to be, okay?

He nods along, before interrupting you that he understands you; taking a whole different approach as he starts to talk about how maybe you’re afraid of commitment. He reassures you that there’s no need to be because he’s yours and you’re his.

König, in a simple way, completely ignores your wishes and turns it around to you being afraid. In his head, possibly you’re the one who requires help, no?

He means no harm — and immediately jumps up as the ‘husband’ as he is. Taking care of you, making sure you’re well satisfied. Isn’t that what a lover does? Isn’t this what you wanted? He loves you far too well.

—

Masterlist || Reblogs, comments, and likes are very much appreciated!! Stay well!!

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lemonlover1110 · 1 year

Text

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐬

Satoru Gojo

[Chapter 7] The Secretary

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Pairing: Satoru Gojo x f!Reader

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You’re a bit shaken up when you get off the elevator, perplexed by his words. A surge of emotions flows through you. You’re fighting back a smile while your blood boils. Of course he has the audacity to say that. He doesn’t have that right.

When you’re back at your desk you take a moment to breathe. You can’t believe it. How dare he? He should’ve stayed quiet because he doesn’t have the right to speak to you in any kind of way– To even comment on your looks. You’ll be thinking about this for the entire day, it’s hard not to, considering how fast your heart beats.

Too lost in your own thoughts, you don’t notice when Shoko walks up to your desk. She taps on your desk, and you look up at her. She raises her brows, tilting her head before commenting, “Caught you off guard. What were you thinking?”

You shake your head, before sheepishly smiling at her. You clear your throat before telling her, “Nothing.”

“Did Satoru do something?” She asks and you shake your head. You’re definitely not going to tell her about Satoru’s comment. You do have a question though.

“Shoko… Is Satoru fucking his secretary?” The question that leaves your lips leaves the woman wide-eyed. She then furrows her eyebrows, she lightly shakes her head.

“How would I know? I don’t exactly keep up with him. I literally found out just the other day that he has a son.” She answers. She puts her index finger up before saying, “In his defense, he doesn’t know it either.”

“So you don’t know. Thanks.” You respond, rolling your eyes, and she ends up shrugging before walking into her office. The thought of his secretary and what he said to you lingers on your mind. How does he even say that when it’s so clear that he’s having some type of relationship with her? Not even that, he’s married. He’s fucking married. You never thought that Satoru was the type of man to cheat but you know that look in his eyes all too well. Maybe you just didn’t know him as well as you thought.

It hurts you to know that Satoru is not the man you thought he was– Well, he had shown himself but you thought that at the very least he’d make a good husband. However, he has proved you wrong. Maybe it’s just a figment of your imagination, perhaps you’re overanalyzing and dramatizing a simple look and a smile.

You doubt it though.

Like clockwork, a rumor goes around the office that there’s something going on with Mr. Gojo, the new president of the company, and his secretary. You don’t start such a rumor though, another employee does. You immediately know it’s true.

Shoko asks you if you made up the rumors, and you deny it. You don’t gain anything from it, and while she thinks you’re lying at first, she believes you. You really don’t benefit from it, maybe they’re just rumors that happen to be true. Maybe an employee caught them. There’s many possibilities.

In the end, it’s none of your business.

“Satoru.” Mrs. Gojo barges into the office, finding her son mindlessly reading a report in his hands. He looks up from it to find his mother enraged. He sighs, rubbing his temple since he feels the headache that’s coming. “Would you care to explain what I just heard?”

He closes the report and tosses it on the desk. He crosses his arms before asking, “What did you just hear, mother?”

“Are you fucking your secretary?” Her tone is more accusatory rather than curious, and while Satoru would like to argue with her for not trusting him, she isn’t exactly… Wrong. But he isn’t going to admit it. He ends up shaking his head, but that obviously isn’t enough. He looks guilty. “Fire her.”

“Why?” Satoru asks, making her scoff. She crosses her arms, her index tapping on her arm. She can’t believe he’s asking that stupid question. She opens her mouth, about to speak, but Satoru speaks again, “If it bothers you so much just move her somewhere else. You were so bothered about my ex yet you hired her to work for you. By the way, why did you do it? I swore that you hated her.”

“Why I hired her is none of your business, Satoru. Plus, I don’t hate her.” She answers, making Satoru sigh. That doesn’t answer any of his questions. But he knows that he can’t push his mother, he knows better than anyone how she is. “I told you to fire that woman, and that’s what you’ll do.”

“Give me a reason.” Satoru says, and she raises her brows. Her nails dig into her skin before she opens her mouth to speak,

“My reason is that because of me, you’re sitting in that chair. You want to live a magnificent lifestyle and have your prestigious job? You follow my orders.” Her words make Satoru purse his lips together. He’s about to argue with her, but she says, “I can turn every board member against you, they weren’t even sure about giving you the presidency. Follow my orders.”

Satoru bites down on his lip. He takes a deep breath. He wants to say something else, but he really can’t. He really can’t say anything else but, “Yes, mother.”

“Good. I’ll get Shoko’s assistant working here while you find a new one.” Satoru doesn’t catch on quickly, but when he does, he knows that she’s doing it on purpose. He sighs before he nods.

“C’mon, Ren. Finish your veggies.” You have to tell the young boy that refuses to eat the broccoli and carrots that are on his plate; he’s become picky lately even though he used to love broccoli and carrots before. You assume that the older he gets, the more picky he becomes. He shakes his head, which causes you to sigh. “You won’t get any kind of dessert if you don’t finish your veggies.”

“I don’t like them!” He claims, pushing his plate away from him. You pinch the bridge of your nose. You don’t have the energy to argue with him, you’re simply too exhausted from the work day. You hear as someone unlocks the front door, and when you’re about to pick up Ren to hide because you assume someone is trying to break into the apartment, you hear her voice when she enters the apartment.

“Where are you?” It makes you sigh. You tell her where you are, and when Mrs. Gojo is at the dinner table, Ren’s eyes light up. He stands up on the chair to hug his grandmother, and she picks him up before kissing his forehead.

“Grammy, I’ve missed you.” Ren says, and you nearly roll your eyes. You know immediately that she’s the reason Ren is refusing to eat his vegetables; while a grandmother’s job is to spoil her grandchild, she must also respect your wishes but she doesn’t. She just enables Ren, disregarding you.

“Ugh, I’ve missed you too, my sweet boy. I’ll be visiting you more frequently, I promise.” Mrs. Gojo tells him. You look at Ren’s plate of unfinished food, and you stand up from the chair and pick it up. Now that Mrs. Gojo is here, you know that the plate will end up uneaten. You begin to clean up, rolling your eyes at the sound of Ren interacting with his grandmother. You can’t stand her.

“Hey, I came here to tell you something.” Mrs. Gojo walks into the kitchen, holding your son in her arms, and you turn off the faucet to completely focus on her. You dry off your hands on your pants before you put your hands on your hips. “You’ll be working with my son until he finds a new secretary.”

“Were the rumors true?” You mindlessly ask, and she furrows her brows and squints her eyes.

“You don’t get to ask questions.” She responds, and you click your tongue before you turn your attention back to the dishes. Too focused on the veracity of the rumors, it doesn’t hit you that she told you that you’ll be working with Satoru. Not until you hear,

“You have a son?” Ren quite doesn’t understand how his grandmother is his grandmother– He just knows he adores her, and it’s quite shocking to know that she has kids. Ren knows why your mother is his grandmother but not this woman…

“Yes, dear, your father.” She says nonchalantly, and your eyes widen. Ren’s eyes light up in excitement and he smiles– So he does have a father.

“Can I meet him?” He’s quick to ask, and you suck your bottom lip in. You take a deep breath, but it’s her situation to handle. She’s the one that brought it all up. When you turn to see what she does, she does nothing but shake her head.

Then it hits you, you’re going to be working with Satoru. You can’t stop your tongue, “What the hell do you mean I’m going to be working with your son?”

“That you’ll be working with him. That’s that.” She puts Ren down on the floor, while the little boy points his hands together. You nearly burst into tears as you watch him beg his grandmother,

“Can I please meet my daddy? Please? Pleaseeee?”

“No, Ren. And that’s final.” She says, and he crosses his arms. He pouts as he walks away, too mad at his grandmother to even look at her. She’s the one that always says yes, so why is she saying no to this? Instead of paying attention to the boy, she looks at you and tells you, “You’ll be reporting to Satoru tomorrow, so don’t bother going to Shoko.”

“And what if I refuse?” You respond. You already agreed to so much, but working directly with Satoru is the last thing you refuse to accept. You wonder what she’d do if you refused.

“You see this luxurious apartment that you’ll never be able to afford?” She begins, and you sigh. Of course. You also know that she’ll take Ren– Maybe not give him to Satoru, but make a nanny raise him. “Do I need to finish? It’s just for a short time, dear. It’s not worth the fuss.”

“Right.” You sigh before turning back around and focusing on the dishes. She stares for a moment before turning around, and going to Ren.

He has a short-term memory for the people that have wronged him so it’s no issue for her to interact with her grandson yet again.

It doesn’t surprise you that when you arrive at the office the next morning, Satoru calls you into his office. He doesn’t let you settle into your desk first, he doesn’t want to waste any time. You stand across from him, while he sits comfortably on his chair. You expect him to be personal, to talk about your previous relationship. It’s shocking when he doesn’t.

“I expect you to be here earlier. You’ll be working with me, not Shoko, therefore you’ll have a different schedule.” Satoru tells you, and you deeply inhale before exhaling. “I expect you to be competent. Leave anything personal at home. You can be professional, right?”

“Satoru–” You begin but he interrupts you.

“Mr. Gojo.” He corrects you.

“Mr. Gojo, I assure you, unlike your previous secretary, I am extremely professional.” You smile at him, and his eyebrows raise. He rolls his eyes. You find yourself irritated at the fact that he expects professionalism from you after the comment he made in the elevator– And you’re shocked to see how fast his attitude has changed. Satoru is not the same person he was five years ago.

“There’s no way you believe those stupid rumors. I thought you out of all people would be smarter than that.” Satoru comments and you shrug in response. You look around the office, looking for a single picture of his wife, but there is none.

“I mean… I saw the way you looked at her. I’m not dumb, Mr. Gojo.” You tell him, and he bites his tongue. He can’t argue with that. You smooth out your skirt before weakly smiling at him and changing the topic, “Would you like to start your day with a coffee or tea, sir?”

“Coffee.” He answers, and you nod in response. You turn on your heel and you begin to walk out of the office, until his voice strikes you and it causes you to freeze. “You know, you don’t have to act like you don’t know me. You’ve always known that I like to drink coffee in the morning.”

“I beg your pardon, sir?” You look at him, tilting your head. “We don’t know each other, how am I supposed to know that you drink coffee?”

“I–” He opens then closes his mouth. It feels strange for a woman that’s known him for twenty one years to say that– A woman that he got to know for sixteen years, a woman that he was in a romantic relationship from eighteen to twenty one. But he doesn’t know why he expected anything different, even when he knows that you know him better than anyone.

“Everything okay?” You ask him.

“Everything’s fine.”

#[changes]#gojo saturo #satoru gojo #gojou satoru x you #jjk satoru #gojou satoru x reader #jujutsu kaisen gojo #jjk gojo #gojo angst #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo satoru #jujutsu gojo #gojo x reader #gojo fanfic

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okchijt · 6 months

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hii! could u separate headcanons of Yandere! Alastor and Vox x Male Overlord! Reader who never smiles (very rarely) , isn't very chatty and doesn't really like dance and sing?

Author's Note: Thank you so much Anon for the request! Decided to write this as soon as it came cause I finished the show a few weeks ago and still have the brainrot. The request asks for a male reader and the title also says it, but you can easily read it as gender-neutral as well since I don't think that what I write is that gender-specific to the request to matter aside from like two gender-specific words I use but you can easily ignore them if you want. And lastly, go ahead and check out my masterlist if you like what you just read and if you want to request anything yourself, thank you, and enjoy!🩷

Yandere Alastor x Male Overlord Reader Headcanons

📻 Smilling is Alastor's whole thing, and even though he doesn't care if others smile or not, but as his Darling, he seems to care quite a lot! He's not that vocal about it though, only making a slight comment here and there: "You're never fully dressed without a smile!" or "A smile makes all the difference!" All to try and make you smile more. I imagine he says the same speech he did to Charlie, that a smile can be anything you want it to be and the effect it has on others.

📻 When all else fails he'd use his wits and puns to get a smile out of you, and when you finally do smile on occasion Alastor is over the moon. It's a huge success in his book, he'd immediately praise how lovely that smile looks on your face and he'd pat your head or back approvingly as well.

📻 Since you're on Overlord yourself Alastor feels nothing but respect for you. If you were a simple sinner he'd feel superior despite you being his Darling. But in this case, you're on the same level if not stronger than him so that just gives him more of a reason to make you smile, anything to get your approval, it's the only one he needs or cares for anyway. In this case, you letting him stay by your side only fuels his ego because it's a pleasure only he gets to have and no one else. You're his and he has no intentions of sharing you with anyone, he's fiercely protective and possessive over you and that includes your smile. Only he gets to see and experience your purest form, sinners would rather make a deal than die by his hand just because they saw something they shouldn't.

📻 Alastor is more than fine with having a non-chatty Darling, he doesn't speak unless he has to so he can relate to you. That said, he's only okay with it when you're quiet to everyone else but him. After all, he's only this close to you so shouldn't he earn the pleasure of hearing your voice? He'd push you for a conversation sometimes, asking you questions or just string up a conversation to the point where you're forced to respond. The longer you keep quiet the more irritated and persistent he'll become, so it's better to start sooner or later if you don't want to see Alastor slowly lose himself.

📻 Although there's no official answer to whether Alastor likes to sing or dance, I have my personal thoughts on that so I'll use them here. I think Alastor likes dancing, with a specific person that is, that being you. You won't catch him on the dancefloor with anyone but you. Though because you ain't that much of a dancer, and unlike the smile thing Alastor doesn't really mind. He is forceful with everyone else as we saw in the show, but as his Darling and fellow Overlord, he has too much respect for you to push you to do something against your will. Though if you would ever agree to dance with him, he'd be really respectful and make sure you enjoy yourself so that he'll have a chance at another dance next time. Also, you always only dance to jazz or swing music, that's one thing Alastor will always put his foot down on.

📻 Singing is the second thing Alastor would take the most seriously after smiling when it comes to his Darling. Singing is one of those things that lets you express yourself, you can show any emotion by it. Even though Alastor had like four songs in the show, I feel like he only sings when he has to, always to make himself look good or to be on the winning side. So I feel like Alastor would be a little disappointed if you chose to solve problems like a normal person instead of having a rap battle with someone. Though I feel like that's a subject he won't push on about too much despite his feelings, he'll only allude to it from time to time.

📻 Overall, the only issue Alastor would have with a Darling like that is him not smiling, but that's about it. It's the only thing he'd be aggressively vocal about and sometimes the singing one. Otherwise, he tolerates everything else about you. All Alastor needs is to have you all to himself and if it means he's the only one to witness you do any of those stuff in private, how can he complain? He much rather prefers that scenario anyway, you're his after all.

Yandere Vox x Male Overlord Reader Headcanons

📺 Unlike Alastor, Vox doesn't put that much importance on smiling like his rival, but he still views it as useful. He's a public-based Overlord, so a smile is always important to have when trying to sell his brand. You can be a part of the Vee's or not, you're still an Overlord that is either on his level or stronger, so Vox is bewildered how you don't even try to smile when talking to those below you to win them over.

📺 He'd try to explain to you how much more influence and power you could have with a smile alone: "Smile, and they'll know who's in charge here!'' or ''It's the best way to win the public's adoration!'' He just wants you to present yourself the same way he does. He'd be really disappointed if you continued to refuse his idea, but once you smiled at something he said in private, it made him stop and think. It made him realize that something so alluring should be for his eyes only, he should be the only one to enjoy such a sight and no one else. He'd always whisper sweet nothing into your ear whenever he catches you smiling, hoping it'll encourage you to smile more. It fuels him and he'd do anything to get you to smile like that again for him.

📺 As a fellow Overlord, he respects you a ton, especially if you're a part of the Vee's with him. Because you're so different from the typical Overlord he surrounds himself with, he's much more wary of how he approaches you in fear of setting you off. He wants you to adore him the same way he does you and he'll try to achieve that by treating you like the King you are. Anything you say goes and even when he tries to push some issues forward, as his Darling you're the only one that can shut him down.

📺 Though Vox would prefer if you were a bit more chatty for the sake of the brand and all that, he won't really say anything to you about it. Your presence is enough to either win other sinners over or scare all the threats away. Kinda like Alastor, in private Vox will be very chatty with you, you're his Darling so he only feels safe enough with you to spill all of his thoughts out. But unlike his rival, Vox won't push or force you to respond, he's more than okay with you just being silent as he talks, it's therapeutic in a way. Though he'd always encourage you to talk some more if you do eventually say something, your voice just makes him so happy. He'll stop whatever he was doing just to focus all of his attention on you as you talk, but if you stop that's okay, he's already satisfied to hear his Darling talk even if just a little.

📺 Vox ain't that much of a dancer, he's pretty stiff actually, so he's both glad and bothered by the fact that you aren't. Good for him cause you don't pressure or force him to do something he knows he's bad at and embarrass himself in front of you, unlike a certain moth. But at the same time, he'd want to see you dance, he wouldn't care how good you would be at it, you're his Darling so he'd still think you're brilliant regardless! He won't ever push you to do it though, taking how he feels about it he won't force you into something he knows he wouldn't like doing himself.

📺 Singing is what Vox makes up for not being able to dance, he's a good singer and he knows it, though you're the only one who he'd sing to willingly. He'll sing to you in private all the time, wanting to charm you and make you weak for him just like how weak he is for you. But it's the same thing as with dancing, he would love to hear you sing for him, about anything really, but again, he won't force you to do it. Sometimes he'd sing a song that requires a duet to see if you'll budge. Unfortunately for him, you don't, but he won't say anything, he adores you regardless.

📺 Seems like Vox shares a similar issue with his rival, his one problem is you not wanting to smile more. Outside of that he sometimes gently tries to persuade you into singing or smiling for him, but won't push the issue onward if he faces rejection for his request. Vox is more than satisfied knowing you'd sometimes budge in private for him, that's all he really needs and craves really. Him being the only one to witness his Darling doing any of those things makes his ego only grow, because it's his privilege alone and no one else's. And it'll stay that way no matter what.

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i-care-4u · 1 year

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more central cee pls !

FACE TO FACE | CENTRAL CEE

PAIR: CENTRAL CEE X READER

REQUESTS ARE CLOSED | MASTERLIST

TAGGED: @playboykenz

A/N: to the two anons that asked for more central cee, i hope you enjoy this little fic i wrote!

FACE TO FACE SERIES: jack harlow | central cee

as the cameras were getting ready, oakley couldn’t help but to giggle about the fact that his girlfriend was going to interview him.

this was something you loved doing with oakley at home. coming from work, you and oakley would be having long nights together, answering and giggling about each other’s answers. this time, the public was going to watch this, and oakley felt comfortable sharing his answers to them.

you introduced yourself to everyone, “hello gq, i’m y/n l/n, and today i’ll be asking a set of questions to central cee.”

in front of you, there was a laptop, with oakley being in front of your screen. you start the call, “hi cench.”

oakley blushed, “hi y/n.”

“today we get to share to everyone what we do at home,” you show the cameras the set of cards filled with questions, “the couple’s quiz!”

☆ FIRST QUESTION - “HOW WOULD YOU DESCRIBE YOURSELF IN THREE WORDS?”

“three words,” oakley starts saying words that came in mind, “focused, candid….”

you nod, using this as a sign to keep going. “come on, one more, one more!”

oakley immediately went back to thinking mode. you lay your head down, trying not to burst into laughter. you raised your head afterwards, “you want me to help you out?”

“of course,” oakley said, with a charming smile at you.

“cee.”

“yes?”

with a straight face, you admit, “i think you’re very cute.”

“focused, candid, and cute it is.”

☆ SECOND QUESTION - “FIVE ESSENTIALS?”

for this question, the staff brought in the items, and oakley removes his chain in order to showcase it to everyone. “obviously, we have to go with this one first.”

you tried not to brag, but you let it slide since you’re his girlfriend, “picked by the best.”

oakley nods in agreement, “mhm.”

he then showcased the watch on his wrist, “another one picked by y/n, and it’s this watch.”

he then explains three other objects: headphones, crackers, and a book.

“i have two headphones - one i use for the gym and the other during my spare time,” oakley pulled a bag of crackers close to the camera, “these crackers were gifted by my mum in christmas, they’re so delicious.”

he smiled as he showed everyone a book. the book was very special to him, as it was another gift - this time it was from you to him. “this book is gifted by y/n, and i love to carry it on the road. i still remember those words, telling me it’s a reminder of love.”

“it’s like you’re carrying a piece of me, you know?”

☆ THIRD QUESTION - “WHAT’S THE MOST ROMANTIC THING YOU’VE EVER DONE?”

sarcastically, oakley answered, “i’m a hopeless romantic…”

you jokingly glared at him, “really?”

“i don’t know man, i’m transitioning, i’m changing. this is all hard for me like i’m trying to think-”

“boo hoo,” you mocked, “it was so hard for you. why don’t you just grow up?”

oakley admits, “it’s easier said than done.”

☆ FOURTH QUESTION - “WHAT’S YOUR SELF CARE ROUTINE?”

oakley repeated the question, “my self care routine?”

you looked down at the card, “yes.”

“my self care routine consists of sleeping, waking up to do my skin care, going to the studio,” oakley gets into detail, “people don’t tend add that, but music is a form of self care. it’s enjoyable and arguably, a form of therapy.”

“i can see where you’re coming from, and i agree,” you comment, “music is universal.”

☆ FIFTH QUESTION - “FAVORITE LYRIC?”

oakley shrugs, “god knows.”

“i don’t know that one.”

“do you swear on the shore?” oakley asked you.

“yeah,” you nod, “shit.”

he laughs, and you added, “crumbs.”

oakley continued laughing at your nonsense, “what?”

you lied, “i swear all the time, okay?”

oakley knew it wasn’t true at all, leaving it with a simple response. “okay,” he shook his head, “it’s not that attractive though is it?”

as a joke, you tried to impress your boyfriend, slamming your hands on the table. “okay, i don’t swear!”

☆ SIXTH QUESTION - “WHAT’S YOUR FAVORITE RED CARPET LOOK FROM ME?”

oakley leaned on the chair. “ooh, this is a tough one. am i allowed to say my favorite runway look?”

“nope.”

“just red carpet.”

“yes.” you got close to the webcam, and the only thing that showed up on oakley’s screen was your eyes and forehead. “…say it!”

he picked his top five looks of yours, “as of right now, i would have to go with your mtv video music awards from 2022, the met gala look from 2022, and last year and this year’s grammys look.

“and you got to thank law roach for the styling.” you start giving him a round of applause.

☆ SEVENTH QUESTION - “WHAT’S YOUR FAVORITE CELEBRITY ENCOUNTER?”

oakley recounts, “apologies y/n, but i got to tell the funny one.”

you blankly stare at him, “the one where we met drake?”

“yes,” oakley smirked. he starts telling the story behind it, “so we went to this festival, and drake decided to invite us to the after party. during the party, he was on his phone scrolling on instagram, and that’s when he showed me a picture of y/n. he was like, who is this, she’s so pretty? that’s when i answered him, saying that it was y/n, who was right there. she didn’t say anything, but rather laughed about the whole situation.”

you add, “he was definitely drunk there, and he was surprised by my appearance at the party afterwards.”

☆ EIGTH QUESTION - “WHAT’S SOMETHING ABOUT ME THAT PEOPLE DON’T KNOW?”

“i think people should pay attention to what i’m about to say,” oakley exposes your hobby, “but y/n loves gardening.”

you playfully rolled your eyes at him, believing that it’s not that big of deal as he makes. “why are you making it such a big deal? leave me and my plants out of this!”

“i find it very cute though,” oakley visualizes, “walking outside to see you watering your plants. i can name some from the top of my head.”

you crossed your arms, having a smug look. “oh really?” you scoffed.

“yeah.”

oakley starts listing names of your plants, causing you to be left with a speechless face that was soon filled with laughter.

reflecting at this question, you also found it cute that oakley remembered your not-so-secret hobby of gardening. the way he remembered the names of your plants indicated his love language.

☆ NINTH QUESTION - “WHAT WOULD YOU DO IF YOU WERE ME FOR A DAY?”

“what would y/n do?” oakley asked himself as you listened.

as soon as he came up with the idea, he shared it in front of everyone, “if i were you for a day, i think i would head down to the studio and try to make music.”

“smart,” you recall, “i’ve always wanted to make music for a long time, but i think we’re good as a model for now.”

“new date idea,” oakley states, “make music with y/n.”

“that sounds lovely.”

☆ TENTH QUESTION - “WHAT ADVICE WOULD YOU GIVE TO EVERYONE RIGHT NOW?”

“this one’s a bit cliche but my thing is live yours,” oakley said, “that’s what’s inspiring innit.”

you agree to his piece of advice, “so basically express yourself?”

“correct.”

the tenth questioned marked the end of the interview and was left with one more scene to record.

the cameras starts recording oakley, “if you want to see me ask y/n these questions face to face, go to vogue.com.”

“thank you to gq for being involved in this conversation between central cee and i. thank you for watching!” you waved to the camera. the video cues to a white screen, placing the names of the people involved.

after the interview, oakley waited for you to exit the studio. when you saw him, you gave him a tight hug. “you were amazing!”

“thank you!” oakley smiled, “you know what sounds more amazing? bringing you to the studio right now.”

“you and your bad flirting skills,” you sarcastically rolled your eyes at him, “but a studio date sounds nice right now.”

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cellophanejpeg · 1 month

Text

quirk play | Amajiki T.

Amajiki Tamaki x nameless!oc/reader

s.: She can't stop thinking about it. Ever since her best friend mentioned it, the act of having tentacle sex with her boyfriend won't leave her mind and it's driving her insane. Maybe she should try it once, just out of curiosity…

w.c.: 4.9k

a.n.: wrote this last year, but only posted on ao3 because i was scared people wouldn't like it. fuck it we ball. bnha is over and i'm bittersweet.

w.: smut, tentacle sex, very explicit, mdni

divider by @/saradika-graphics

If it weren’t for Shinsou’s nasty comment, she would’ve never thought about it.

“So, Amajiki-senpai, huh?” He had given her that stupid smug smile. “Bet you two get creative in bed with his quirk.”

Despite shutting him off immediately, telling he was the most disgusting pervert she’d ever met – which resulted in him laughing even more at her reaction –, she couldn’t stop thinking about it.

They’ve been together for about a year and have been taking things slow ever since they met each other in high school. It wasn't usual for a first year to tutor a third year, but due to Tamaki's duties as a hero he hadn't had time to study and was almost failing in English, among other subjects that didn't involve crime fighting. So Present Mic had her to tutor him and teach him some extra English lessons, since she was fluent at it.

At first, Tamaki was so shy and hesitant that he didn't even look at her. And she thought he hated her, because during their first tutoring sessions, all he used to do was nod and look away every time she seeked his eyes with hers.

But then, after a lot of coaxing from her part, he started to open up to her. He started answering her questions more promptly, held her stare when he looked at him…

She could say she started falling for him right there, in their tutoring sessions.

And then, Tamaki had graduated high school, and was about to become a pro hero, with an actual license – not a provisional one. She remembered the day where she boldly entered the 3-A dorm, in a hot afternoon, and knocked on his door with tears in her eyes, asking for his number to keep in touch after he left.

It wasn't only until three years later that they finally admitted their feelings for each other and started a serious relationship.

Three long years of texting and late night conversations on the phone, friendly meetings at coffee shops, going to the movies as friends, and pining for each other, later and they were finally together.

After graduating, she asked him out on a date. It was a simple coffee shop date with a movie session afterwards. And to her surprise, he said yes.

Tamaki was an introverted man. He preferred staying home to going out, watching a movie on the couch instead of on a theater chair, home cooked meals and chilling inside the best he could. And when she came into his life, she showed him a world of possibilities. She encouraged him to go out more whenever he was free, to enjoy a walk in the park on a sunny day, and to go out as a couple. She didn't mind having to initiate every move, as long as he was comfortable with it. She did her best to let him not get uncomfortable with every touch, every kiss.

When they finally got together, sex wasn’t something that even crossed her mind in the first few weeks of their relationship. And when they finally did it, from the very beginning, she knew Amajiki wasn’t one for going rough at her.

He would never agree to something like that.

“You’re still thinking about it, aren’t you?” Shinsou’s voice interrupted her train of thoughts. Somehow, she knew exactly what he was talking about, but still decided to play dumb.

“Thinking about what?” Her eyes never left the streets under them.

It was a warm summer night where they both had hero duties to attend and, since neither worked in a proper agency, they chose to patrol the area in the shadows. She was hunched down the edge of a building when Hitoshi found her, deep in thought.

“You’re a bad liar.” He approached her and sat beside her, legs dangling off the edge while she was still in a crouched position. “And you look like a gargoyle right now. I could spot your wings from so far away, I’m sure any criminals would give up committing any crimes around here. You’re a like billboard for them, staying here–”

“What do you want, Shinsou?” She interrupted him, finally tearing her gaze from the city to look at her best friend.

He smiled and scoffed with a playful arrogance that was only reserved for her. She sighed and rolled eyes, dropping her gaze from him.

“Are you seriously thinking about having tentacle sex with your boyfriend?” He murmured, speaking as if they weren’t the only ones on that roof.

“I’m not even going to answer that,” she replied, closing her eyes and controlling her anger. Hitoshi had a way of getting on her nerves that no other person had.

“Poor Amajiki.” He mocked, “He’s so innocent. What would he think of his beloved girlfriend being such a pervert like that–”

A punch on the arm interrupted him and he barked out a laugh, finally getting a reaction from her.

“Are you done with your buffoonery?” Was she said before returning to her patrolling on the streets.

Shinsou took the time to watch her while she sulked. He didn’t lie, her dragon wings and horns did make her look like a gargoyle, especially as dark as they were at the moment. The crouched position, with her back hunched, the serious expression on her face… She looked more like a creature than a human.

“You know,” he said and watched as she rolled her eyes again, “when I said that, I was trying to make you angry… ‘Cause you know… It’s funny when you get angry. I didn’t mean to make you worked-up about it.”

Her eyes slowly made contact with his. She didn’t move a muscle as her wings tucked behind her, as if she was ready to attack. If he didn't know better, he'd think really was a gargoyle.

“Just stop talking about it then.” Her voice was cold despite the smoke that started coming off her nostrils. A bad sign.

“Geez, alright.” He mumbled, raising his palms to her, “Don’t go spitting fire on me…”

But the thing was that she was worked-up about it. The thought infected her mind like a virus and nothing she did made it go away. Not the steamiest sex with her boyfriend, not the vibrator she had in her nightstand drawer, not even the use of fingers made the image of tentacle sex with Tamaki leave her mind.

The fact she had a wet dream about it the night before was eating her up on the inside.

"Shinsou." She suddenly said, breaking the silence and standing up. Her thighs screamed at her for staying in the same position for so long. Shinsou looked up at her as she stretched before speaking again. "You've ruined my mind with that comment."

She didn't see the way his eyes lit up with amusement, lifting her arms to stretch her body.

"I knew it!" He exclaimed, "I knew you were thinking about–"

His voice faded away as she jumped off the edge of the building, diving in the sea of artificial lights. She allowed herself to get closer to the ground before opening her wings to fly away from her watching spot.

The cold wind blew on her face, calming her senses down. Whenever she was on the air, it was like every voice inside her head quieted down.

She was far enough from the tall buildings to be able to pull out her phone from her jacket pocket to look at the time. It wasn't too late for stopping at Tamaki's, she knew he would be home even though it was a Saturday night. Maybe she could surprise him, Tamaki loved when she visited. His apartment building wasn't so far either, so why not?

Landing softly on the balcony of his apartment, she leaned over to unzip her combat boots so she could take it off before steppin in. But before she could knock on the glass door and have him open it for her, saying his usual line – "You know you can ring the bell, right?" – she heard different voices coming from the inside of the apartment.

She raised her hand to knock on the glass, but as if he had heard her, Tamaki pulled the curtains and opened the balcony door, a soft smile on his face.

"Hi," she said, smiling.

"Hi," he replied and there was a pause of a second before he launched himself at her, wrapping his arms around her and burying his face on her shoulder, "I'm so glad you're here."

Her smile widened as she hugged him back, rubbing the soft material of his shirt, and inhaling the scent of his shampoo on his hair.

"Something happened?" she asked as she tried to let go, but he hugged her tighter, making her laugh softly.

"Nejire and Mirio are being mean," he replied, voice muffled by the fabric of her jacket.

"Oh." She pulled away from him this time and noticed a pink tint on his cheeks. It wasn't unusual for Tamaki to be embarrassed by something, but the faint scent of beer in his breath told her the cause for the flush on his cheeks was something else. "I didn't know you had people over, I can come back later–"

"No!" He interrupted her, "P-please stay!"

Before she could answer, a high pitched laugh came from his living room.

"Tamaki!" Nejire Hado's voice echoed the place and he tensed, his ears going pink at the sound of her voice. "Where did you run off to?"

Before he could say anything, she grabbed his hand and stepped inside his apartment. "Sorry! I think he heard me arriving!"

A smile curving her lips and a hand raised in greeting made Nejire gasp in surprise, whispering her name. She dropped whatever she was holding and ran over, hands going immediately to touch her horns. Nejire's favorite activity was to touch her horns until she grew bored of her and move to the next thing that made her marvel. Nejire once tried to touch her wings, but she jumped off her spot, saying they were too sensitive to the touch.

"Hey there, senpai," she said, breathing out a laugh.

Togata called her name and walked over to them, "You don't have to call us senpai anymore," he said, approaching to give both her and Nejire a bear hug.

The hug knocked the air out of her lungs and she whimpered, along with Nejire. But the way they behaved and the smell of their breaths, they all seemed a bit drunk.

"We were just talking about you!" Nejire speaks, still being crushed by Mirio's hug.

"Oh!" She tried to say, "Really? What–" She breathed out, "What were you talking about?"

Then, Mirio finally let them go. Suddenly, the atmosphere grew tense and they all hesitated. Even Mirio. Tamaki's face got even more red than it already was. She frowned at their reactions.

"What?"

"U-uh, here!" Nejire exclaimed, skipping to the dinner table, grabbing a platter of food and shoving it to her face. "Have some takoyaki! We saved it for you!"

She eyes the food in front of her. No doubt it was Tamaki who cooked it, he was a great cook since he had to do it often for his quirk. But one of the fried balls had an octopus leg hanging out of it and it reminded her of it . It took everything in her not to flinch.

"I-I'm not hungry," she said, despite the takoyaki looking delicious. "Thank you though."

Mirio took the platter off Nejire's hands and set it on the table, wrapping his hand around her wrist right after.

"Sorry, we've had a little too much to drink," he said, his cheeks flushing a bit.

She waved a hand at them, laughing softly, "Don't worry about it." Then turned to Tamaki, "Do you mind if I use your shower?"

Tamaki, who had his eyes on the floor all this time, looked at her and blushed again. Was he okay? Were they all okay?

"Uh, n-no, go ahead," he replied, and then in a lower voice as he approached her, "I told you, you don't have to ask…"

She shrugged a bit and smiled at his reaction.

"We should get going as well," Mirio said, wrapping an arm around Nejire's waist to support her weight.

"Oh, please don't leave because of me!" she said.

"Don't worry, it's not because you got here!" He smiled, "We've been here for hours, so…"

Only then, she checked her watch to see it was almost 11pm, "Oh."

A moment of silence filled the gap between all of them and she thought it was strange how they were all behaving. They were usually so friendly and talkative, but tonight Mirio and Nejire were avoiding her eyes like the plague.

"Well, I'm gonna go ahead and take that shower," she said, thumb pointing over her shoulder in the direction of Tamaki's bedroom.

"Right! See you around!" Mirio smiled cheerfully at her.

Once they said their goodbyes, she walked to the bedroom, wings tucked tight against her back.

"Hey, hey." Nejire's voice came from the living room, "Do you think she heard us?"

She didn't mean to eavesdrop, but they were talking so loud that she heard Tamaki scold his friend.

"Why were you talking about it in the first place?" His voice trembled.

Nejire giggled and Mirio shushed her quickly.

"I'm sorry, Tamaki," he said, "We were just playing around, we had no intention of getting our noses in your sex life."

She almost choked, widening her eyes at his words. Deciding not to listen to them anymore, she hopped into the shower quickly. Letting the warm water run through her body, the sensation felt like heaven. She washed herself, rubbing the sweat of the day’s patrolling off with Tamaki’s soap. She sighed, inhaling the scent of her boyfriend. Ready to forget about what Shinso told her, she finished showering and wrapped herself in a towel.

“Are you seriously thinking about having tentacle sex with your boyfriend?”

Shinsou’s voice echoed in her head again and she cringed. "Goddammit, Hitoshi.”

Putting the soft pajamas she’d always kept in his bedroom drawers, she only heard the quiet pads of Tamaki’s feet and some clinks of the dishes being washed in the kitchen. Meaning Nejire and Mirio went home already.

Quietly walking around his apartment, her bare feet matched the pads of his as she reached the kitchen. He walked around the place, cleaning it and washing the dishes that he and his friends used to have dinner. Deciding to help a little, she started gathering the empty bottles of soju they drank. As soon as the bottles clinked together, Tamaki turned his head from his spot on the sink in search of the source of the sound.

“I’ll help you.” She smiled at him.

His face went red as he realized she was wearing a top and tiny shorts pajamas as usual. She frowned at his reaction and walked towards him, throwing the bottles in the trash.

“Everything okay?” She asked him and he just nodded, tips of ears going red as he avoided her stare.

“T-there’s some food for you on the table,” he said, ducking his head and letting his hair fall on his eyes. “I made extra takoyaki for you.”

She almost cringed again, “I’m not really hungry.”

At that, Tamaki raised his head and looked at her. “You’ve been patrolling all night. You should eat.”

A warmth spreaded in her chest at his words. Tamaki would always look after her, no matter what. And he was right, she was a bit hungry. He knew how much she loved his food and made sure he cooked some extra just in case she dropped by tonight.

"Okay," she replied with a small voice and sat at the table to eat.

Meanwhile, Tamaki finished washing the dishes and cleaned the kitchen. She looked at him with heart eyes, feeling the domestic vibes in the air and the familiar warmth bloomed in her chest once more.

"What?" he asked once he noticed she was staring.

"Just thinking how much I love you."

His face grew red once more, but he smiled at her, approaching and bending over to give her a kiss on the head.

"I love you too," he murmured, rubbing the top of her head and walking away towards his bedroom. "I'm going to shower. There's ice cream in the freezer, make yourself at home."

Unbeknownst to him, she already felt like she was home.

As she finished her meal, she washed her plate and got the ice cream he talked about. Sitting on the living room couch, She turned the TV on to see if there’s anything interesting on. A few moments later, Tamaki joined her, smelling like the same soap she used. She laid back on the couch, her feet on his lap as the both of them watched a cheesy romcom, when a question pops in her head.

“So why were you guys talking about me, huh?” She teased. His hands froze on her calves and the familiar pink shade made its appearance on his face again.

“U-uh,” he replies, avoiding her stare, “it was nothing, trust me.”

“Nothing?”

“Yeah, they were just being gross.” He still didn’t look at her.

“Why?” She asked after a beat of silence.

Tamaki visibly shrunk his shoulders, eyes still set on the television.

“Was it that bad?” She pulled her feet from his lap and sat up, putting the bowls of ice cream on the coffee table and facing him. When he didn’t answer, she moved to gently grab his chin and turn his head to face her. “Tamaki…” Her voice was stern, as of a mother scolding him and she knew the effect it had on him. He loved when she was a bit hard on him in bed, so trying to seduce him wasn’t too hard for her. Half lidded eyes and pink cheeks already looked at her as she approached his face. “Why were they talking about our sex life, Tamaki?”

Then, he widened his eyes, pulling away from her grasp. “How– How did you–”

“I overheard them talking about it.” She interrupted him.

He sighed in defeat, closing his eyes and slumping his shoulders.

"We were just drinking and they started talking about…" Tamaki seemed to hesitate, but she encouraged him by slipping her hand behind his neck and stroking his hair gently. "They started talking about quirk play."

A frown grew between her brows, "Huh?"

"I was confused at first too, but–" Tamaki swallowed hard, "They said my quirk was perfect for i-it."

And then the penny dropped. Mirio and Nejire were talking about… It with him as well.

"You mean…" she started just to be sure she and him were on the same page.

"They asked if we ever had tentacle sex."

Holy shit, he said it. So bluntly like that…

“Oh."

"Y-yeah."

An awkward silence filled the gap as both of them blushed. How much of a coincidence does it have to be that multiple people had brought it up? Maybe it was overall curiosity that got the best of people, but to have Shinsou, Mirio and Nejire comment about it in the same night?

How curious were they?

How curious was she?

"I-I-I shut them down, though…" He explained, bringing her back to reality. "Told them it was gross and stuff…"

"Huh." Was all she said and as she leaned back on the back of the couch, deep in thought.

If she were to ask Tamaki to use his quirk in bed, would he be able to say no? Knowing him, he'd go along whatever she wants, but would be going so far by using his quirk to get off?

"Tama, baby," she said, catching his attention, "It's okay." She sighed, closing her eyes for a moment and taking a deep breath, "I've– I've been asked this too."

"W-what?!"

It was her time to sigh, "Shinsou teased me about it a couple of times." She rolled her eyes, reminiscing how he would laugh when she got mad about it, "I suppose people get curious about it. I don't blame them, really."

Tamaki hummed and an awkward pause hung in the air. She watched him with tenderness in her eyes, as he was deep in thought, resting her chin on her knees.

"S-so, uh…" He said after breathing deeply, "Do you– Do you want to try it?"

She looked at him surprised. Not only was the initiative coming from him – which was rare –, but also he was the one who brought it up. He looked at her with timid eyes, but full of lust and curiosity.

Her mouth opened to answer him, but she hesitated. Then, as if he had sobered up, he started stuttering.

"I-I-I mean– I just– I thought–"

"Yes." She interrupted him, looking right into his eyes.

"Yes?" Tamaki seemed like he didn't believe her.

A soft laugh escaped her throat as she looked at him with the same tenderness and affection as before. Her hand tucked a strand of his hair behind his ear.

"Yes," she replied softly.

Then he smiled at her, and her heart skipped a beat. He leaned over her to press a kiss on her lips, but when he went to pull away, her hands hooked in the back of his neck and pulled him closer for a deeper kiss. Tamaki's hands were shaking as he reached for her waist to pull her closer. She obliged, straddling his lap and slipping her tongue inside his mouth. A whimper escaped his throat when she rolled her hips on him, already feeling the bulge in his pants.

His hands traveled through her skin, slipping under her top and brushing lightly where her wing met her back. She shuddered, always sensitive in that area. He knew that.

Tamaki pulled away breathing hard, a small whimper escaping his lips.

"How–" He inhaled sharply when she rolled her hips on him once more, "How do we do this?"

Leaning her forehead on his, she smiled wickedly. "How about you take me to bed first?"

Her warmth breath on his face made him exhale and in a split of a second, he grabbed the back of her thighs and lifted her from the couch as he stood up. His mouth found hers once more in a hungry kiss, lips crashing together, tongues sliding against each other, building up the arousal in both of them.

Tamaki carefully set her on his bed, covering her body with his. His teeth pulled her lower lip and she moaned as he started to leave a trail of wet kisses through her jawline and neck.

It took her by surprise. He was never this assertive, never like this during sex. Usually, it was her who always initiated and her who led on, who commanded. But now, Tamaki was doing as he pleased, without a command. His eyes searched for no approval, instead, there was pure lust in them.

It was like he flipped a switch when she said yes.

His hands traveled through the side of her body, reaching the hem of her shirt. He wasted no time in pulling it over her head, discarding the piece of clothing on the floor. Tamaki's hands were rough from working as a hero, but they were warm as they cupped her breasts.

Kneading one of them with a hand, his mouth wrapped around the other nipple, making her gasp in surprise. Arching her back, her damp middle grinding against the bulge in his pants. The motion caught him by surprise and he moaned, biting her nipple.

"Shit." She gasped. Tamaki looked up, pulling away from her breast, a string of saliva connecting his tongue to her nipple.

"Did it hurt?" He asked, cheeks flushed with something else other than timidness.

She shook her head, unable to form words. What was going on? Who was this new Tamaki who was so confident?

"Do it–" She breathed, "Do it again."

Tamaki gave her a half smile and bowed his head to suck on the other nipple. Meanwhile, his finger pinched the freshly bitten one and she gasped again, whimpering his name.

Suddenly, his hands started to feel a bit weird. Instead of the rough skin on her, there were soft, clammy, and silken touches. When she opened her eyes, she saw dark pink tentacles gently wrapping themselves around her breast. The tip of one teased her already sensitive nipple and she sobbed at the contact.

Once more, Tamaki looked at her, worried eyes burning her own. The silent question lingered in the air and she nodded.

"I'm okay." She whispered, giving him the green light. Her face burned with desire, arousal and lust. It made Tamaki’s cock twitch in his pants.

His once fingers that morphed into tentacles slid over the skin of her ribs, waist and hips, making her grip the sheets and whimper softly. One of the pink limbs hooked on the waistband of her shorts and teased to take it off by tugging it lightly.

“Tamaki…” She whined, closing her eyes when a tentacle slid between her legs, caressing her inner thighs. A gasp turned into a sob that escaped her lips when he pulled his mouth away from her skin.

Kneeling on the bed, Tamaki used his tentacles to pull her tiny shorts off her legs. While she lifted her hips to make it easier, another tentacle ran through her stomach to reach her breast, joining the other in pinching her nipples.

“Pin–” She gasped, “Pin my hands above my head.”

An involuntary smile curved the corners of his lips as he did what she asked with two more tentacles. Other two spreaded her legs, exposing her fully to him. It was quite the view, he had to admit it. But the most impressive thing was that he wasn’t hesitating at all. He was willing to do anything she wanted, no questions asked. This was different from the other times, he didn’t have to ask for her permission to do anything. She voluntarily was at his mercy, willing to go along with whatever she wanted.

Tamaki approached his face to her cunt, pressing soft kisses on her inner thigh before lightly pressing his nose on her clit. She whined again, clenching around nothing. He was never one to go down on her without proper instruction, so having him there surprised her.

“Tama, are you sure–” The limbs around her wrist tightened their grip and she moaned as he licked a long stripe on her slit, coating it with his saliva.

Then, he circled her clit with his nose, making her tremble. His tongue suddenly didn’t feel the same. The soft sensation of it was replaced by something thicker and stronger. Before she could realize, his tongue was a tentacle and he was sliding it inside her.

“Fuck!” She cried, bucking her hips. A tentacle slid through her lower belly, holding her in place.

It was a strange sensation to have it inside her, the texture of the tentacle, the suckers, the firm muscle had her whining and moaning his name nonstop.

“Tama– Oh, shit, it feels so good.” Her praise motivated him to move his tentacle shaped tongue in and out, earning more whines from her. Until,

“Put one of them in my mouth.”

He looked up, but didn’t stop his ministrations as he ran one limb through her body and slid it inside her mouth. Her moans were still audible, but a bit muffled now. She rolled her eyes in pleasure as he hit a special spot inside her. He used the tip of the tentacle that was wrapped around her upper thigh to circle her clit, the sucker suctioning it. She clenched around him.

Tamaki’s hips started moving on its own, grinding against the mattress, searching for some friction to alleviate the hard boner he had. His own eyes rolled to the back of his as he realized he was so close to cumming on his own. The tentacle inside her mouth slid further, making her gag on it, but he was quick to pull it out.

“I’m gonna cum!” She cried out as soon as she was able to talk. “Shit, baby, don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t–”

The tension in her lower stomach snapped and she let out a loud moan, tightening her walls around his tongue. Tamaki couldn’t hold himself anymore and ended up cumming along with her.

A thin coat of sweat covered her skin, her chest moved up and down as she breathed hard, heart hammering inside her chest. Slowly, Tamaki released her wrists and thighs, leaving suction marks on her skin. His hands morphed back to its original form as he kneeled between her legs. He waited for the shame and embarrassment to hit him like it usually did after sex, but… It just didn’t. He wasn’t embarrassed to give her pleasure. Of jizzing his sweats? Maybe, but not this.

A satisfied sigh left her lips and she finally opened her eyes to look at him. Hooded eyes met soft eyes and she smiled, sitting up to meet his lips with hers. He kissed her passionately, hands cupping her cheeks to bring her closer. His chest swelled with something unfamiliar. Pride, maybe? No, love . A deeper feeling of love, as if through this they’ve become more intimate with each other.

And he wasn’t blushing at all.

#amajiki tamaki #tamaki amajiki x reader #tamaki amajiki #amajiki tamaki x reader #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #gabiwrites.txt #myfic #exophilia #tentacles

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strawberrymilk-sunshine · 2 years

Note

Yan overblotted malleus who kills his darling by accident, maybe loses his mind even more. Go crazy 💙

>:)

Warning(s): blood, death, hearing voices

The ink clouding his vision slowly dripped off of his face, allowing him to see clearly once more.

"What... what happened to me...?" He asked.

But nobody was there to answer his question.

Malleus stood up on his unsteady legs. Nobody's around, where are they?

And then he found everyone. Silver, Sebek, Lilia, and the two Shrouds were huddled around... something. He couldn't tell what it was.

When Silver heard someone approaching, he immediately stood up and drew his sword, but calmed himself when he realized Malleus looked like he was back to normal.

But behind Silver, hidden by everyone else, Malleus saw a very bloody body.

"What happened?" Malleus asked.

"You overblotted." Silver simply responded.

"There's no pulse." He heard the younger Shroud say. "And... I'm not detecting any brain activity either."

"S-shit... Ortho, c-could you try shocking them awake?"

"I don't think it would be of any use at this point..."

"Ah, how tragic..." Lilia said. "Malleus will be quite displeased."

"Why... will I be displeased...?" Malleus asked.

"Malleus! You're ok!" Lilia said, turning around. "Such wonderful news-!"

"Lilia. Why did you say I would be displeased." He demanded.

"...Malleus. I'm sure you're aware you overblotted, yes...?" Lilia asked. He floated upwards and placed his hands on Malleus' shoulders. "(Y/N)... they tried to help us calm you down as they've done with all the other overblot cases but..."

It felt like all of the noise was sucked out of the world. He heard nothing, except for what Lilia said to him next.

"Malleus, you killed them."

It's easy to keep a human alive.

Just use a bit of magic, and just like that they'll be ok.

Lilia had clearly lied! You were just fine!

A simple spell to heal your injuries, and one to help with... preservation... and you were just fine!

You were alive, clearly!

You still looked alive, and your body wasn't at all decaying, so you're clearly ok!

You have to be.

Malleus Draconia was always known as a strange man, people just never commented on it because he's big and scary and one of the most powerful mages in the world, but now... people were starting to talk about him.

They were starting to talk about how Malleus Draconia was a man who always dragged a human's corpse around with him. He called the body "(Y/N)". He would talk to them like they were alive, and he always expected a response, before saying something along the lines of "Oh, you don't want to speak right now? That's ok, (Y/N), maybe later."

Everyone was now more unsettled by Malleus than ever before.

"(Y/N), what would you like for dinner?" Malleus asked, sitting you down in a chair.

But you didn't respond to him.

"...my dear, I know you're probably angry at me for hurting you like that, and I'm extremely sorry about that, but (Y/N)... we can't go on like this." Malleus said, grabbing your cold hands. "I can't go one more day without hearing your voice."

And after that, he could have sworn you said something to him. He heard a voice in the back of his mind, one that resembled yours...

"I knew it. You're still alive." Malleus smiled. "So, (Y/N), what would you like for dinner?" It felt so nice to hear your voice again. "Oh, that sounds wonderful, my dear. Shall we discuss wedding preparations tomorrow? ... Yes, my thoughts exactly!"

Lilia, Silver, and Sebek were peaking into the room to make sure Malleus was doing ok.

They did not expect to see what they did.

He's talking to you like you're still alive, like you're responding to him...

"Father, what do we do?" Silver asked.

"...I don't know."

"Is there nothing we can do to prevent Lord Malleus from marrying a corpse?!" Sebek yelled.

"Well, his grandmother will surely prevent that, but we should find a way to help him with... this." Lilia sighed. "For now, I suppose we just... let this happen. And try our best to help."

Malleus looked so happy, dancing with you.

But you didn't look happy, dancing with him.

Your expressionless, dead face could not display happiness anymore.

But Malleus... he saw you looking happy as ever. You looked as beautiful as the day he found you.

To Malleus...

You looked as alive as ever.

#malleus draconia #disney twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland #twst #yandere twisted wonderland #yandere #yandere twst #yandere twst x reader #yandere twisted wonderland x reader #yandere x reader #yandere malleus draconia #yandere malleus draconia x reader #yandere malleus x reader #yandere malleus

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kaiyunsim · 9 days

Text

HEARTS IN THE MARGINS — chapter 10 : afterparty

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fully written ! (wc : approx 1.5k) not proof read

The sound of cars overwhelms you while you are carpooling with minji, yujin, and shotaro. In your hands is a handmade picket of a cute boy. taro, the boy beside you in the backseat, sees you looking at the picket and smirks teasingly.

”wanna see him huh?” he asks, keeping the smirk that you were very embarrassed to see.

You deny quietly, trying to avert the gaze of the boy, instead looking outside for a few seconds.

”no, it’s just…” you pause, attempting to gather your thoughts, you eyes leer around the vehicles and bright lights outside the window, “excited to see the whole group perform”, you finished, trying to put emphasis on the word ‘whole’.

taro playfully shoves you while giggling softly, “okayyyy,” he said teasingly, not believing you, “make sure you look at hoon too okay,”

You just rolled your eyes from all the teasing coming from taro. You try and mask your excitement from scrolling on social media but everyone in the car knows what you would be looking at when you would start giggling at a photo on your phone.

yujin, in the passenger's seat, turns around and jokes, “they definitely fucked,” That comment left you flustered, lowering your head and avoiding their eye contact. “why else did y/n change our plans last minute?” yujin continued.

“funny joke,” you tried to play it off, “nothing happened though,” you continued, trying to downplay the event. Even though you were trying to avoid the attention, everyone’s eyes were on you, how could they not though? you are never this flusted to a simple joke by yunjin. you would always just fight back verbally or physically (jokingly ofc).

“did something bad happen, y/n?” taro asks, his face softens, demeanor different, clearly worried that something happened to you.

”nope, nothing you should be worried about,” you answered, not sure if you should continue but you inevitably do, “jake told me he liked me,” and like that it was as if you were in that library with him when you first met, the car was dead silent. shotaro and yujins faces form open mouths with the absolute bomb you just dropped. minji, who is half listening because she’s driving, looks at the situation from the rear-view mirror, “what just happened?” minji asks, yet her question goes unanswered.

“no fucking way” taro mumbles under his breath, “y/n pulled jake.”

”no it’s just…” you pause, trying to gather your ideas and choose the right words, “i can’t tell if it’s like that y’know, he didn’t say it like he liked me like that” you confess to the others.

”why don’t you ask him at the afterparty? we’re all going to go,” yujin suggests, trying to cheer you up.

you give him a quiet nod before sitting back into your seat left with your thoughts once again. It wasn’t long before you finally arrived and took you seats in your seat. Thankfully, because you knew sunghoon, you guys were all able to snatch front row seats. shortly after you guys took your seats, the lights switch off to let the performers walk on.

when the lights switch on you eyes are immediately caught on him, wearing a black, wide jeans, a dress shirt, and a tie. simple, yet jaw dropping. so jaw dropping, in fact, that all it took was him spotting you in the crowd and winking at you to make you fully fold, face fully flushed. He also definitely saw the picket and let out a hearty giggle while performing. his smile was perfect, prettier than anything you’ve seen before. sunghoon caught your reaction and gave a soft laugh as well.

everything after that moment felt like a blur, and the next thing you remember was stopping by the afterparty.

the group of dumbasses reunited, now with sunghoon joining, still in his outfit similar to jake’s.

“shit, you guys ate,” minji comments, “you mean ah-tee?” shotaro adds on. everybody laughs uncontrollably, sunghoon made that same mistake on stage when they were doing a mini interview after their performance. “oh my god. i was nervous guys.” sunghoon mumbles, it’s funny to see him embarrassed like this because he’s never like this.

everyone decides to take a shot, “shit, why does soju kinda hit hard” you comment, “i think you’re just bad at drinking,” yujin says while laughing. meanwhile a group of boys caught your eyes, it was the dance group sunghoon is a part of. sunghoon takes notice of this.

“want me to introduce you?” sunghoon asks, with a slight hint of teasing but you could tell that it wasn’t his intention.

you wouldn’t mind taking his offer but just the idea of getting to know them is kind of scary to you. nevertheless you give sunghoon a slight nod as you follow him to the group.

as you greet and give slight bows to the new faces you notice jake wasn’t there. you feel slightly disappointed but it’s nice to at least get to know them.

jungwon grabs and shakes your hand, “hi y/n so nice to meet you!” he says with a big smile, you couldn’t believe he was their leader, he was simply too cute to be one. you return the greeting and another person gives you a soft wave. it was sunoo, also really cute. why are they all so cute? and just when you thought that, you spot a tall figure, riki. you sat there, surprised to hear that he was their youngest. you shake your head to focus back to the conversation.

“do you guys know where the others are?” jungwon asks you two. you shake your head.

“no idea where heeseung and jay are, they probably headed home to play games and sleep.” sunghoon joked, “jake is probably with emilie,” he added on. you give him a confused look but look over it. it was probably one of his friends. after all you don’t really have anything going on with him, at least you think so.

after all of that alcohol and water to wash it down, you begin to get the urge to use the bathroom. at least now you are acquainted with the members you met, enough to excuse yourself to the bathroom without feeling embarrassed. as you walk off, the alcohol makes you feel slightly dizzy and nauseous, but not nauseous enough to notice a familiar figure down the hall to the washroom.

you walk closer to see that it's jake, that cute, hot, aussie boy you know. you could see his beautiful smile once again but not towards you this time. the closer you look you notice that he’s not alone and see another figure, a feminine one. she pulls alongs jake’s tie to tug him towards the bathroom flirtatiously. her arms wrapped around him, where the door to the bathroom closes suddenly.

what had happened had left you stunned and now with both the alcohol, and watching the scene before you leaves you with small tears forming in your eyes that eventually burst into bigger ones. you speed walk away, trying to keep control of your crying to make it quieter but the feeling just keep leaking out. now the crying is combined with random thoughts stroming your mind, ‘he probably didn’t even like me,’ ‘he didn't mean it like that,’ ‘i’m such an idiot,’. your thoughts were interrupted as you bump into a tall figure. the man looks down at you and when you look up at him with semi-red, teary eyes you were able to distinguish that it was one of sunghoon’s friends, heeseung.

heeseung sees the sadened state your in and tries to offer help, “shit, y/n your drunk as fuck. let me get you a ride home,” he says, not knowing your situation and excuses the crying for you being drunk. he doesn’t want to push for any information since he just met you but leaving you there would be too much for him.

The sounds of the party fades as you and heeseung head to his car, his hand on your back trying to comfort you further.

“jesus y/n, next time try to drink less,” heeseung jokes, trying to lighten the mood, and oddly enough your crying started to subside. it was still there of course but you weren’t bawling your eyes anymore. once you plopped in the passenger seat of heeseung’s car it wasn’t too long before you dozed off and passed out.

heeseung would take you to your place but he forgot to ask before he left so he just takes you to his dorm which is shared with sunoo. he tries to poke you awake but you don’t wake up so he carries you all the way to his bed leaves you there as he sets up a seperate one of the floor for himself.

you are soon overtaken by the many events that happened recently to actually get up and your body forces you to rest in the sweet embrace of sleep.

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a/n : hii pookies ! i hope the series has been enjoyable as you read to me trying to write angst for the first time ! lmk if its good or not cuz i actually have no idea how to write it. also feel free to send req’s whenever, i might not respond to it right away but if i’m ever bored then i might get to it !

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taglist ! : (OPEN !) comment or send an ask to be added !

@onlyhyunjin @starchasing-cryptid @bubblztaro @kanattac @nootnootpinguuu @gnusihcom @kkurbys @w0uldyoukissme @ilovejungwonandhaechan @pshwrldd @minoouz

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satantica · 8 months

Text

first date with haikyu boys - pt.1

he’s very excited to see you and for some reason afraid that you changed your mind. so when he sees you looking mesmerizing and breathtaking, the poor boy loses his ability to speak. he nervously swallows as his eyes widen gazing you up and down. you giggle and ask if he likes your look. the only word you could get out of him is “perfect”. his whole plan of impressing you has collapsed the second he saw you. and now he’s trying not to look at you in order to have at least a small talk with you. at first you want to ask him what’s wrong but as soon as you see the blush on his cheeks the question is withdrawn. when you reach an arcade he suddenly turns to you, rapidly exhales and starts chattering “okay, please, don’t think i’m childish, i just really think that you’d like this one and…” you softly stop him “i do like it.” his eyes that were drilling the floor, now shining and he finally has the courage to take your hand. you think about how precious his genuine happiness is when he says “thank god, i’m mentally ready to impress you again.” you can’t help it but chuckle at his comment and reply “if you didn’t impress me first i wouldn’t be here by now.” and that’s the moment he becomes all anxious again and starts literally dragging you by your hand, loudly declaring “let’s make this one count!” rest of the date he surprises you with being weirdly good at every game. but every time he sees you struggling he instantaneously backs down and lets you win just to cheer you up and to give a kiss on the cheek to a winner.

lev haiba, HINATA SHOYO, nishinoya yuu, MORISUKE YAKU, yamaguchi tadashi

you try to keep it simple since it’s your first date but end up looking rather elegant and chic. you feel a bit overdressed and almost go change when you hear a buzz on your door. the door opens and he immediately clears his throat as soon as he locks eyes on you. you rush to tell “i’m sorry, i know it’s a bit much, i’m gonna change.” you turn around to walk away as he catches your hand. “it won’t be fair to let such beauty fade away, right?” he tells suggestively although you can hear a demanding note in that voice. you want to agree but still have doubts “i just don’t think i’ll be comfortable getting all these looks.” he gives your outfit another admiring glance and says “i bet you’d be getting all these looks anyway but if so i have more suitable event for you, excuse me,” he leaves your house to make a call and then as he returns he replaces his hand on your waist “shall we?” walking you to his car. you wonder where he’s driving but he answers shortly “that wouldn’t be a surprise then, darling, would it?” the car stops in a middle of nowhere, to be precise, right by the beach. it becomes more confusing when he takes his shoes off. he notices a shadow of bewilderment on your face and quickly says “you can stay with them on, i have no problem with carrying you.” the quick question from you follows “into water?” he laughs at that comment. he rolls up his sleeves, mischievously looking at you. you are still freezes not sure what to do when he suddenly speaks “alright.” within three seconds he grabs you placing your body on his shoulder. you try to fight him telling that you will walk barefoot but he simply replies “too late, i like the way things are.” he puts you carefully on the chair and his hand gently removes some hair from your face. when you see a whole restraunt table arranged amidst sand you involuntarily gasp “there’s no way you arranged this over one phone call.” he smirks obviously satisfied and pleased with your reaction “you’re almost right. originally, that part was coming after we go to museum. some wine, darling?” you nod and he pours wine as his eyes are watching your perplexed face. he sits down and immediately raises the glass “to the most gorgeous date ever who gets all the looks.”

AKAASHI KEIJI, iwaizumi hajime, SAKUSA KIYOOMI, tsukishima kei, osamu mitya, KUROO TETSUROU

#haikyu!!#haikyuu!!#haikyu x reader #haikyuu #tsukishima kei #kei tsukishima #akaashi keiji #tetsurou kuroo #hinata shoyo #yamaguchi tadashi #lev haiba #nishinoya yuu #yaku morisuke #iwaizumi hajime #kiyoomi sakusa #osamu miya #haikyu

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forusomimiya · 1 year

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@swimmingtimetravelwolf-blog ship & prompt: “I want to watch you” w/ Rintaro Suna ˚₊˚✧🦊✧˖°📱

"Hi babe"

"Hi bunny" in a medium-short shot, Suna is sitting on the hotel bed, his hair slightly tousled with wet ends, a sign of having just gotten out of the shower. His chest is bare, so from how other times he's gone to sleep, you imagine he'll only be wearing his high school volleyball team sweatpants, which still, and surprisingly, still fit.

"How was yar day?" you ask, wrapped between the cushions of your bed. He only has a frame of your face. He tells you that the game was tiring, but with a victory behind it. Yours, however, is all about studying and preparing projects. Also thinking a lot about him. Quite a lot. "'m looking forward to you being here with me"

"Me too, just 2 more weeks, ´kay?" you nod wistfully, but Suna can't see you like this. "Hey, I miss you." "Miss you too" the silence that envelops you for a few seconds hints at your next move. His next move.

"So... you´re alone now?"

"Umm yeah" his question gives you a noticeable clue as to what he means, but you can't help but ask him anyway. "Why?"

"Just… to know" oh right, now he just wants to know.

"No, tell me" but it's your hand that plays first. And how could you not do it when your boyfriend is also alone in the hotel room and the husky tone in his voice tickles between your legs. It's inadequate to say that Suna already knows where your hand is when he notices your agitated breathing and especially when your mouth opens involuntarily to let the air escape, fooling yourself that everything is under control.

Yes, Suna missed you too much too, so what better way to play dirty games?

"Why don't we help each other relax?" And what are you going to say to that comment? Nothing. Absolutely nothing. Just witness Suna's phone wobble as he tries with one hand to pull down his pants a little, just enough to free his cock and start stroking the tip slowly.

"Wanna see" you almost whimper, salivating as you imagine her hand clenched into a fist gently pumping his manhood.

"No bunny… I know you want me as much as I want you so, put that mouth to work and tell me how your pussy is"

"Yes, sir" you thought. Your hand snuck back under your underwear. "She's… soft. Very soft" you stroked up and down, reveling in the softness of it, grateful for what your fingers were touching, opening them to better appreciate you. "She's wet too, a lot…" you weren't lying. You were slippery, and your boyfriend's moans in the shell of your ear increased the flow, so you rushed to you rushed to masturbate more decisively, feeling your pussy throb with every "and what more" coming from the other end of the line. "And…and-" only broken words came out of you as your middle finger located that pleasurable spot as it passed over your clit, concentrating on him and that agitated voice.

"I want to watch you. Let me watch how that pussy drool for me" and though you hesitated for a second, you finally let him see what was going on down there, letting him watch through his screen as your fingers disappeared inside you and how they glistened covered in cum as they came out. "Fuck, I need you to say my name when you come. I want to hear it" Your melodious moans were a real delight to Suna, accompanied by his name being intoned louder and louder. "So close Rin… I- I can´t no m- hah!"

"I adore how naughty you are" Yes, he adored you. He adored the way that with a simple word or gaze, he brought out of you everything that made him overflow with pleasure. No blackmail. Just him being… him. However, you adored when Suna was too immersed in creating scenarios with you in his mind, that by the time he was cumming, he doesn´t told you.

It not be needed. That was what made you immediately follow him, besides his dirty high-pitched moans, the sound of his hand pumping his cock hard, and his name on your lips sounding long and loud as you overflowed your fingers.

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snorlaxlovesme · 1 month

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if my heart was a compass, you'd be north

Asymmetry is Death the Kid’s main weakness, and Black Star knows it. When he sees Kid’s arm get blown off by Noah in Baba Yaga’s Castle, he knows that Kid won’t be able to fight back. Jumping between them is easier than breathing, and getting trapped in the Book of Eibon is something he believes he can endure. And maybe he can, so long as he believes rescue is coming. But what happens when no one at the DWMA seems to find Black Star’s rescue mission as important as Kid does? Pairings: Death the Kid / Black Star Warnings: violence, suicide ideation, panic attacks, depression Ao3 link: [x] Partners' artwork: @drowsystarlight Neeks [x] @vin420 Vin [x] Happy Chibiverb '24!! In the spirit of signing up for a cute and fun mini-bang in the fandom, my dumb ass wrote 23k words 💀But that's because I had such wonderful partners, with fantastic ideas and even more fantastic art! Make sure to like and reblog their work as well! If for some reason you want to read the whole thing in one insanely long tumblr post, here it is! If not, please use the the ao3 link above

prologue

Inanely, the first thing Black Star thinks as he watches Mifune fall to the ground is this should feel better.

He doesn’t even fully know what he means by that. But when he looks at his adversary, his rival, dead on the ground before him, he expects a sense of completion to wash over him that never comes. Will it ever come?

Tsubaki transforms, holding Black Star by the shoulders as she gently lowers him to the ground. His wounds must look worse than they are, because concern paints her features as she looks him over, like she can’t quite decide which injury to treat first. Luckily, Sid is close by. The bastard was probably watching the whole fight and doing dumb commentary like he did when Black Star fought Kid last. He doesn’t say anything, no congratulations or kind words, just gives him a once over with his dead zombie eyes before holding out his knife and letting Nygus transform. She gets to work bandaging him immediately.

“You okay?” she asks kindly. She’s probably worried about how he would feel after taking out Mifune. And sure, that’s part of it, but not all of it.

Black Star can’t help instinctually posturing. “Of course, I’m okay, why wouldn’t I be?” he asks. He can’t see Nygus’s full face beneath the mask of bandages she wears, but he sees her expression shift when she sees his petulant frown. She has the decency not to comment on it, at least.

Sure, it’s a very loose definition of “okay.” The slice on his foot hurts like a motherfucker, and his eye and cheek are starting to swell up from Mifune’s onslaught of attacks. The wounds on his arms are mostly superficial, but Nygus finishes wrapping them with care before reaching into her medipack for a cold compress for his head. He’s probably not concussed, but whatever.

Tsubaki crouches down and gives Black Star that good natured-smile she always does when she can tell he’s lying to himself. “Of course you are,” she says. Then her tone shifts ever so slightly. A little bit more serious. This question isn’t one she wants answered with a lie. “But are you satisfied?”

That is a better question. And the answer is simple: no.

Will he ever be?

“Tsubaki,” Black Star says quietly, turning to look at where Mifune lays. “Do you think I’m closer to beating God, now?”

She lays a hand on his shoulder, right next to the slash mark through his tattoo.

“You’ve never been closer,” she says matter-of-factly.

That may be so.

But that’s not good enough.

He can still remember the crater in the ground, the rubber heel of a leather shoe crushing him into the concrete.

He looks at Tsubaki, his good eye blazing with determination.

There’s one more person Black Star still has to face.

---

“Where do you think he’d be?” Black Star asks as he races through Baba Yaga’s Castle.

It was easier than he thought to slip away from Sid and Nygus. For all their care, they were never the most observant guardians, and with the battle raging on around them it was easy to wait for them to focus on their comms so Tsubaki and Black Star could slip away.

“I don’t know,” Tsubaki says from her ninja sword form. Her wavelength is equal parts supportive and worried. She knows that Black Star needs this closure, but she’s still concerned about his injuries. Before she transformed, she offered to carry Black Star at least until they got inside the castle, but he laughed right in her face. Injury or not, the great Black Star doesn’t need to be carried.

He still has adrenaline pumping through him from his fight with Mifune. He might be limping a bit from the wound on his foot, but he’s still capable of moving on his own, and most of the grunts in Baba Yaga’s Castle look like they’ve been taken care of already. He sees dark clothed mounds lying on the ground in every corridor he takes, so at least he knows the rest of the teams were doing something while he crushed every other fighter outside.

“Sid mentioned that they still needed to destroy the moral manipulation machine,” Tsubaki says from her weapon form. “If I had to guess, that’s probably where Kid is heading.”

Black Star has no idea where that might be. He never bothered to look at those maps and blueprints that Sid and Nygus had scattered between them. Black Star was a big man, he didn’t need some stupid map.

Soul Perception would be nice in this moment, but that was like the one meister ability that Black Star didn’t have. Not that he needed it. He had his ninja intuition, which some might say was better than Soul Perception anyway.

“Kid’s a god, right? And gods don’t mess around with mini bosses. There’s no way he’s dicking around in one of these spindly spider legs. If he’s anywhere, he’s going to the heart.”

My heart is different than a human heart, Black Star. Maybe shinigamis just feel differently than humans do.

“Black Star?”

Black Star blinks. Without even realizing, he had skidded to a halt.

“Sorry,” he says, breaking into a run again. “Like I said, he’s probably in the heart of the castle.”

Whatever, Black Star thinks, shaking the memory from mind like it was one of the cobwebs that covered every corner of this castle. That stuff was in the past, and this was the present. He’d prove to Kid now just how big of a man he’d become, even with his stupid human heart.

He gets to the heart faster than he would have thought. The corridor he’s been running through opens up into a large room, and at the center sits a complicated looking machine.

“You think that’s it?” Black Star asks Tsubaki.

She doesn’t get the chance to answer, because at that second Black Star hears Kid’s voice, coming from one of the other hallways leading to this giant room.

“Who are you?” Kid asks, and he sounds…scared? That can’t be right. But he sounds rattled, and that is enough to put Black Star back on high alert. He’s been in battle with Kid enough times to know that he’s an extremely even-tempered fighter.

Black Star almost charges ahead, but a sharp feeling from Tsubaki slows him down. He can feel through her wavelength that she’s still nervous about his injuries. And if this person is strong enough to make Kid sound like that, Black Star needs to tread lightly.

It’s not Black Star’s style, and he wants to object, but he’s leaving bloody footprints behind from where the bandage on his foot has already been soaked through. His right eye is almost entirely swollen shut now.

He reluctantly blends in with the shadows, erasing his breath.

“My name isn’t important,” comes a deep voice. “But I know yours, Death the Kid.”

From Black Star’s vantage point, he can see Kid’s expression tense. It’s not unrealistic that someone would know of Kid, he’s the son of Lord Death, but something about this man’s tone doesn’t sound like he knows Kid superficially.

A hand reaches out, and that’s about all Black Star sees before one of Kid’s arms is blown clean off.

Black Star freezes.

In all their training together, Black Star has barely been able to lay a hand on Kid. This man ripped his arm off like he was flicking lint off Kid’s suit.

“Death the Kid,” the man says as Kid falls to the ground, gasping. Black Star can hear the tinny echoes of Liz and Patti calling out for him in their weapon forms. Kid doesn’t move from where he lays.

His adversary finally comes into view. A tall, dark-skinned man with a knowing smile on his face steps from the shadows and looks down his nose at Kid.

“I know all about you, little fragment,” he says smugly. He kicks Kid roughly, flipping him onto his back with his boot. Kid is still immobile, eyes glued to where his arm used to be, hardly breathing. “I know that you value order more than anything. And that all it takes is someone ruining your symmetry to render you incapacitated.”

Liz and Patti’s cries get louder.

“Tsubaki,” Black Star hisses through gritted teeth.

“He could kill you,” Tsubaki whispers back. She sounds terrified. “You have to call for back-up.”

But she knows Black Star would never do that. And even if he did, there’d be no time. This guy could kill Kid. And he might do it now.

“Shuriken mode,” he hisses again, barely able to stop a yell from ripping out of him.

“Black Star, no.”

There’s the shuffling sound of movement and voices coming from the corridor Black Star took to get here. It’s faint, but it could be allies approaching.

But Kid still isn’t moving. His breathing is getting loud and reedy, and his eyes are wide with panic. It’s written all over his face. His symmetry. His symmetry. His symmetry. He’s not going to fight back, and right now there’s no one else around to fight for him.

The mage holds up his hand again, and when Black Star sees a glint of metal, he knows he doesn’t have time to wait.

“Black Star don’t do this—” comes from behind him, because Black Star has dropped Tsubaki to the ground.

It almost feels like he’s seeing himself from outside his body. Black Star leaps from the shadows, red-soaked bandages trailing behind him as he skids between Kid and the enemy. His arm is already cocked back, prepared to punch this asshole in the face—

But something happens. The man seems to register the situation at hand in record time. His eyes flick to the far corridor, then Black Star, then Kid, and within the span of an instant makes a choice. Lightning fast, his grip locks around Black Star’s wrist, catching his punch before he’s even finished his wind-up. Black Star hears Tsubaki scream and flinches, waiting for the pain of his own arm being blown away, but instead a shackle locks onto him.

“What the—”

The other wrist. The metal clamps down and within seconds of Black Star’s approach he’s been neatly detained. He doesn’t even have a moment to process the situation before the man holds up a piece of paper.

A symbol in the center of it glows brightly.

That’s the last thing Black Star sees before he disappears.

2. death the kid

The time that passes by feels like an eternity.

DWMA medics approach, immediately working on wrapping up Kid and preparing to ship him back the academy for surgery.

Eternity.

Kid opening his eyes post-operation, seeing Liz and Patti sitting beside him.

Eternity.

Black Star officially being declared missing in action.

Eternity.

If Kid had to describe the mood of the scene before him, he’d describe it, bafflingly, as cheerful.

DWMA students whoop and holler in the gym as the impromptu sparring tournament wages on, the losers propped up against the wall with bloody noses and cold compresses pressed to their faces while the remaining contestants re-wrap their fingers.

In one swift kick, Patti drops another adversary, Kim falling flat on her back. Patti presses a knee into her chest and grins down at her like the devil.

“Okay, okay!” Kim wheezes, still struggling to take in a full breath. “I give, God! Get off me!”

Kid can tell from her expression that Patti hoped Kim would last longer. For making it this many rounds she seemed to give up remarkably easy.

“Who’s next?!” she shouts triumphantly, which only makes the crowd gathered around the ring roar louder.

Kid slinks farther back into the crowd, lest someone ask him to participate.

He hasn’t sparred with anyone one-on-one since his last fight with Black Star. Somehow it doesn’t feel right to participate in this kind of playful tomfoolery when he thinks about the condition Black Star could be in right now.

It’s been two weeks since the attack on Baba Yaga’s Castle. Kid only got to see Black Star for but a moment, his shadow casting down on Kid as he leapt in between Kid and the mage who had blown off his arm. Kid saw the determined arch of his back, the fist he had been prepared to throw, the bloodied bandages trailing behind him like scarves, and then in the space between breaths—

He was gone.

Kid picks up the pace, leaving the gym and heading straight for the Death Room.

Lord Death has been cagey about the investigation at best. Not like Kid expected anything different from him, but for this particular case it feels especially egregious. Black Star was already so injured from his fight with Mifune. When he disappeared all he left behind was bloodied footprints in the corridors and Tsubaki’s anguished cries.

He could be anywhere right now, and everyone else is having fun?

The sound of Tsubaki’s voice causes Kid to jump a little, so caught in his own reverie he hadn’t noticed he was passing by the DWMA infirmary.

“Come on, Angela. You have to eat your food, not just play with it,” she says softly.

The adolescent witch Mifune had been guarding is now being protected by the DWMA. Every day it feels like the world is tipping a little further on its axis. Kid used to be able to keep up with these kind of changes, but now it feels like the world continues to spin while Kid is stuck in place.

“I’m saving some for Mifune!” he hears Angela call from her bed. “Will he be here soon?”

Tsubaki doesn’t miss a beat. “He won’t be coming ‘til later, so you have to eat your food by yourself, okay?”

The academy decided it was best to forego telling Angela about Mifune’s fate. With her being so young, the pull of madness caused by her magic was still a very real possibility, and telling her traumatic news like that without a safeguard prepared was too dangerous, especially considering all the other issues the DWMA was dealing with for the moment.

Angela, in all her innocence, doesn’t miss a beat.

“Should we save some for Black Star?”

Ice flows through Kid’s veins.

It takes a lot longer for Tsubaki’s response this time. Quiet and choked, she murmurs. “Your food will get cold if you wait for him. Eat what you can, okay?”

Tsubaki politely excuses herself for a moment, and Kid doesn’t have time to pull himself together before Tsubaki is hurrying out of the Infirmary and almost crashing into him.

She stops short, stumbling backwards.

Kid looks at her.

Tsubaki looks at him.

For a few moments, neither of them seem to be able to speak. Kid feels his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water, struggling to put together words that he’s had two weeks to tell her and still hasn’t had the guts to. Tsubaki’s blank stare is carefully constructed, not a single bit of emotion finding its way through.

Tsubaki quietly passes him, leaving just as quickly as she came.

Shame burns through Kid. He continues walking.

He gets to the Death Room just as his father appears to be finishing up a briefing. Professor Stein and Miss Marie have returned from wherever the hell they’ve been, and in true Lord Death fashion, it seems like he’s forgiven their transgressions instantly.

Kid silently slinks into the room, taking his spot on the throne-like chair Lord Death had constructed for him for a birthday not long ago. Kid felt he needed something regal to suit his position as a shinigami. He cringes now as he sits down upon it.

They finish their briefing, believing that Justin Law is the culprit who killed Joe Butataki, a meister who had a unique Soul Perception ability that made him a human lie detector.

“We believe Justin killed BJ to prevent the DWMA from being able to interrogate captured enemies,” Stein says clinically as he lights up a cigarette. “We also believe that other meisters with similar Soul Perception abilities will become targets for Justin and the Clowns moving forward.”

“Like who?” Lord Death says, cocking his head to the side playfully.

“Me, probably,” Stein says, though he hardly looks concerned. “Maka Albarn.” Death Scythe leaps from his seat at that. “And Kid too, no doubt.”

The hollow eyes of Lord Death’s mask do not betray his emotions, if he feels anything at all.

“Well,” he says seriously, taking a breath. Kid thinks for a moment that he might actually be showing some sort of concern or serious decorum, but within an instant his voice has switched back to bright and zany. “I guess we’ll just have to be on high alert!”

Kid scoffs.

“Stein, you and Marie will remain on the case to continue looking for Justin and find out what he’s up to. Spirit, let me know if you find anymore information about Medusa’s research or the whereabouts of the Demon Sword. That will be all! Dismissed!”

They all nod and file out solemnly, leaving Kid alone with his father, who has pointedly ignored his flabbergasted expression.

“That’s it?” Kid asks, heated.

Lord Death turns to face him. “Kid! You’re so quiet I hardly noticed you come in! What is it?”

“What do you mean ‘what is it’? Are you not even looking for that mage?”

Lord Death nods solemnly like he understands where Kid is coming from. “I’m no less upset than you are about the man who hurt you, Kid, but there will be a time and a place for you take out your frustrations.”

“I don’t care about me!” Kid shouts. He waves his arms in the air to prove it. The reattachment of his arm was a success, and being a shinigami means that it was completely healed within a few days. “That man took Black Star with him! Are you even looking for him?”

Lord Death fixes him with that blank stare again. Kid expects another stupid mood shift, but for once his voice remains even.

“Like I said, Kid. There will be a time and place.”

Time and place, his ass.

It’s been a month and a half, and progress on Black Star’s case is as slow as it’s ever been.

Be reasonable, a part of Kid thinks. The DWMA has about fifty different cases open right now. The Kishin is out there somewhere, amplifying the madness of the world just with his presence alone. Medusa has escaped DWMA custody once more after taking over Arachne’s corpse. Crona is still missing. Justin Law is still at large after killing BJ. Black Star’s case is just one of many, and there’s only so many directions the academy can focus its attention without spreading its forces too thin.

But the larger part of Kid thinks FUCK reasonable.

He tears through the academy library like the perpetrator lies within the pages of the dusty books lining the shelves. Black Star’s condition is still unknown. He could be anywhere. They could be doing anything to him. That’s if he’s even alive. He rips more books from the shelves of the restricted sections and throws them on the oak desk he’s been occupying for the past several weeks.

He hates this. He could be out there searching for Black Star, doing something to help him since no one else seems to give a damn. But he doesn’t know where to look. The mage that captured him is unknown to the academy, so now here Kid is, another night at the library attacking precarious stacks of books before him like he has an agenda against them specifically.

If he could just find some iota of helpful information, he could jumpstart the investigation. But most of the witches within these texts are long dead, and any material on Medusa or Arachne is surely being safeguarded by Sid right now, as he spearheads every other mission possible besides the one to save his foster son. Kid clenches his fists, struggling against the urge to sweep all the books off the desk and scream.

He hisses through his teeth and lets his fingers creep in front of him until they collide with a disposable paper coffee cup. He takes a long drink of the tepid contents inside. It was an offering from Liz and Patti, who are allergic to quiet, stuffy libraries but wanted to show their support in his efforts. The seat across from him was occupied by Maka a few hours ago, but she had to leave to go train with Soul, probably practicing their new Death Scythe techniques.

If this was a normal day, it would be Black Star would be sitting across from him. He was always somehow finding Kid when he was in the middle of studying and doing everything humanly possible to get him to stop. He’d crunch loudly on a snack not suited for library consumption and swipe sips of Kid’s coffee when he thought he wasn’t looking. Pencil tapping, idle humming, leg jittering, he’d last maybe ten minutes before loudly complaining that whatever Kid was learning in his textbook Black Star could teach him with his fists twice as fast.

“Soul Theory: A Study of Resonance Through the Ages?” Kid asked, one of the last time Black Star found him at this very desk. “You can teach me that with fighting?”

“Pff, sure I can,” Black Star said dismissively. He’d probably never opened that textbook in his life. “All that soul theory is junk anyway. Resonance is all about trusting your partner. You don’t need to read a book to know that, right?”

And, somehow, that worked. Kid found himself being dragged from the library by the wrist, Black Star cackling like a maniac for winning the war on Kid’s studies yet again (he was currently undefeated). They ended up in the weight room wailing on one of the more heavy-duty punching bags, then switching to bare-handed combination work when Nygus yelled at them to stop damaging the equipment.

Kid threw a punch at Black Star, hard enough to slice the air. It probably would have killed a normal human, but Black Star braced himself and caught Kid’s fist, holding tightly and absorbing the impact.

“Jeez, Kid, I had no idea you were that strong!” Kilik called from the corner of the gym.

Kid ducked under one of Black Star’s swings and glanced in Kilik’s direction, where he was examining the bag that would have to be re-stuffed sometime later.

Black Star dropped his hands, turning an ugly face to Kilik. “Um, hello? Your god is right here. Where’s Black Star’s praise?”

Kilik waved him off dismissively. “Yeah, yeah, we know you’re strong. But I didn’t know Kid was so good at hand-to-hand! Why don’t you do more close combat fighting, Kid? I know the Thompsons are guns, but if you wanted, you could practice with Fire and Thunder for a bit, just to see how it feels.”

Kid didn’t know what to say. He’d never trade in his partners for someone else’s, but he appreciated Kilik’s compliment and his offer. He was about to tell him so when Black Star butted in.

“You wanna know why Kid doesn’t do close combat? I’ll show ya.”

In a blink he was at Kid’s side. Kid put up his fists to block, so focused on an oncoming attack he wasn’t mentally prepared for Black Star pinching the sleeve of his shirt at the elbow and neatly ripping it off in one swift motion.

Kid fell to the floor instantly, eyes full of tears.

Black Star cackled.

“See? When Kid gets in close with an enemy, he runs the risk of getting his symmetry all screwed up.”

“Ohhh, so that’s why he fights with Liz and Patti.”

“That’s why he has me,” Black Star said confidently. “I do all the dirty work so Kid can focus on the battle. It’s simple stuff, really.” Black Star rubbed his nose smugly.

Kilik nodded. “I guess when you put it like that, you guys make a pretty good Resonance Team.”

Black Star snorted. “’Course we do. Any team with me on it is the best, after all.” He turned to Kid, who hadn’t stopped weeping in the fetal position during the entire exchange. “You wanna go get lunch? I’m starved.”

Kid’s crying continued.

Black Star rolled his eyes. He bent down and grabbed the other sleeve, ripping it more carefully to ensure it matched the first.

Kid’s crying stopped.

“Lunch?” Black Star asked again, standing up to his full height and reaching a grabby hand towards Kid.

Kid can still remember the warmth of that hand, and the warmth of that statement.

It’s simple stuff, really.

But it wasn’t. Kid was the most powerful meister at the DWMA. He didn’t advertise that he had such a glaringly obvious weakness. In fact, he’d gone so far as to never articulate it, which made it all the more meaningful that Black Star had so easily clocked it and always covered Kid without a second thought. Even during their battle for Brew, when Mosquito came barreling towards Kid, Black Star was there in an instant, taking the brunt of the damage. He’d pushed himself to the limit with the Uncanny Sword, all to keep Mosquito’s eyes on him. When Kid launched that final attack, it felt like a victory for both of them, with Kid emerging unscathed while Black Star could hardly stand.

But in turn, that memory always bumped into an uglier one. Not a sleeve, but an arm ripped from its socket, laying limp on the cobbled castle floor before him. It must have hurt, but Kid couldn’t even recall the pain. It was the asymmetry. The imbalance had him spiraling. It wasn’t a sleeve that time. He couldn’t be re-balanced in that moment, and he was going to be killed. Kid had been so certain of it, lying there on the ground, watching that menacing hand reach for him.

See? When Kid gets in close with an enemy, he runs the risk of getting his symmetry all screwed up.

It was going to be the end of him, and that’s all there was to it. It’s simple stuff, really. The trait that made him Death the Kid going to be his downfall, and in a way that seemed fitting.

In his shock, he barely saw Black Star leap between him and the mage. Kid only saw Black Star’s battered silhouette for one heart-stopping moment before he was gone.

And now Kid sits here, in the quiet library, waiting for someone to disturb his peace like always. But Black Star isn’t here.

Kid hangs his head low, the text on the dusty book before him beginning to blur. He rubs his eyes and slams the book shut.

This one-man search is running Kid ragged. He’s been at it for days—weeks, even—and his search is yielding no results.

If Kid thought sleep would help, it doesn’t. Probably because sleep hardly comes. He lays in his bed at the Gallows Mansion and stares at the ceiling bitterly, waiting for rest to wash over him, but his eyes stay stubbornly open.

It’s not like it would do him much good anyway. His dreams are often occupied by Black Star. Finding him too late, dead. Finding him on time, but he’s angry at Kid. Seeing the curl of his lip as he looks at Kid, just like the last time he saw him, the last proper time, when Black Star had come up to him and picked a fight with him in the DWMA courtyard after defiling the academy’s symmetry once again. There was a darkness growing within Black Star that Kid had been pointedly ignoring for some time, and when it all came to a hilt Kid pounded him into the ground, which only seemed to make matters worse.

Kid dreams of that too.

It seems unfair that, as a shinigami, he isn’t able to use his godly powers to control the narrative of his dreams. What’s the point of having all this power if he can’t even will his unconscious mind to draw up Black Star’s smile?

He gives up. There’s no point in lying here if nothing is going to happen. He leaps off his bed, stalking to the corner of the room and flicking the light switch, letting the ornate chandelier in the center of the room illuminate the endless night. Liz and Patti are in their rooms down the hall, so he doesn’t bother waking them. Someone around here should get some rest, even if it can’t be him.

His father won’t be home, but he doesn’t expect him to be. It’s a rare occasion to see Lord Death hover down the halls of the Gallows Mansion, and frankly it’s kind of creepy when he does. Kid can’t remember the last time he’s seen his father sleep. Has he ever slept? Would Kid know if he had?

It doesn’t matter.

He goes to his backpack and pulls out one of the offending books from the library. He has a clearer head now, exhausted as he feels. He was just reading up on Eibon, the magic user Kid and his friends saw during the Battle for Brew. He’s one of the few recorded mages in history powerful enough capture an Ancient One, someone like Lord Death, and imprison them in a place where they would be undetected. Lord Death claims Eibon has been dead for hundreds of years, but maybe someone is using one of his techniques to remain hidden from the DWMA?

Kid rubs his eyes, and jots down frantic notes about Eibon to ask his father the next time he sees him. He looks at the clock. Three a.m. He wonders what horrible dream will await him when he finally falls asleep. A good memory, he pleads with his brain as he feels his eyelids begin to droop. He folds his arms on his desk for a moment and rests his head on them. He turns his face and looks at his bed, blinking slowly. He knows he should get up, walk the couple feet to his mattress and fall into the nothingness, but his eyes linger on the edge of his bedframe.

It was the last place he saw Black Star smile, before everything turned to shit…

“Me and Tsubaki were thinking about leaving for a bit,” Black Star said seriously. Kid stopped his meticulous work and snapped his head to attention. “Taking a trip to Japan, maybe.”

It was a typical night for the two of them. Tsubaki and the Thompsons were having a Girls Night back at Black Star’s apartment, leaving the boys to themselves at the Gallows Mansion. Boys Night was supposed to be serious. Kid and Black Star had an upcoming Meister Exam they should’ve been studying for, and Kid had gravely promised to tutor Black Star. They’d donned their pajamas, Black Star in a muscle tank and shorts, and Kid in a silk black matched button-down set, and cracked open their books for all of 15 seconds before Kid saw Black Star’s dog-eared and crumpled book and promptly had a meltdown about it.

So there they were, Black Star was doing 800 elevated one-armed push-ups, while Kid had pulled the binding from Black Star’s textbook and was now painstakingly ironing each of the pages with a steamer. He placed each leaf of paper under a towel on the ironing board before him and pressed the iron down on them, then delicately stacked them beside him.

Kid looked at Black Star, where he hadn’t stopped working out, lowering his body to the floor in even, measured reps.

“You’re leaving?” Kid asked, doing his best to sound curious instead of concerned. “What, like on a sabbatical?”

“What? No. Just like, a vacation. Kind of. So we can learn more about her weapon form.”

Kid rolled his eyes. “Black Star, you just described a sabbatical.”

“Whatever, man.”

Kid nodded. He felt a little better, knowing there was a reason behind Black Star’s sudden decision to leave. He’d felt…off lately. The past couple battles they’d been in had resulted in losses. Kid had read Black Star’s file before, he knew that he and Tsubaki only had a handful of souls to their names, but for some reason those recent losses seemed to have been weighing on Black Star more heavily than others.

Kid picked up another page of Black Star’s textbook and placed it under the towel. “Are you going to Japan to meet Tsubaki’s family?” He clicked the steam button several times.

Black Star slowed down his reps slightly. “Yeah. Figured they might be able to help. She says they’re good people. They might know something about the Uncanny Sword that we don’t. Maybe it’ll help me conquer it.”

“Seems like a good idea to me,” Kid said, lifting a corner of the towel to peek at the page. Still a tad wrinkled. He also took a peek at Black Star, whose expression was similarly crumpled. “So why do you seem nervous?”

“Who says I’m nervous?” Black Star snapped defensively, lip curled.

Kid’s eyebrows shot up.

When Black Star saw his expression, he looked apologetic. He pulled his feet from the edge of the mattress and sat on the floor against the bedframe. “Fine. Maybe I’m feeling off.” He scratched the back of his head and looked at the floor. “The last time Tsubaki and I went to Japan didn’t go well. The Star Clan wreaked a lot of havoc there. They’re not exactly my biggest fans.”

The fingers of his left hand crawled up his right arm, unconsciously covering his tattoo.

“It feels like everything I do is attached to him, somehow. Like even when I do good things, it doesn’t make up for what he did.”

Kid would never say it aloud, but he liked this side of Black Star. It didn’t come out often, and normally when it did, he was in a bad mood, but there was something intriguing about quiet, pensive Black Star. Kid had never needed to ask Black Star his feelings before. Any other day he’d already be scaling a building to shout them to the entire world. But the dip in his eyebrows were a foreign language that Kid longed to be fluent in. At that moment, he could only guess what thoughts were swirling through Black Star’s head.

“You want your good deeds to balance out his bad ones? That sounds—”

Black Star groaned. “Don’t say ‘like symmetry—’”

Kid met his eyes. “I was going to say ‘unfair.’”

That stopped Black Star short.

Kid put down his iron and sat on the floor by Black Star. The pages could wait.

“You aren’t your father, Black Star. You shouldn’t compare yourself to him.”

Black Star scoffed. “Like you don’t?”

Kid opened his mouth, then closed it.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought. It doesn’t matter if your parents are gods or murderers. People look at you and can’t help but think of them. Of what you should be.”

Kid understood. He’d spent his whole life being “Lord Death’s son.” Human adults looked at him reverently, knowing the power he held despite his youthful appearance. The students at the DWMA looked at him with envy, seeing how accomplished he was as a meister while hardly trying. Even when Black Star first met him, his first thought was to attack him and test his strength.

“It’s different for me, though,” Kid said. “No one wants you to be like your father. For me, people don’t just want me to be like mine, it’s expected.” This wasn’t where he anticipated this conversation to go, but once it came out, he surprised himself with the emotion packed in the statement. “I will be Lord Death one day. And everyone assumes I’ll be just like him. But I’m not.”

He spun a skull shaped ring on his right index finger. Then the one on his left.

“No one understands my need for balance. They think I’ll grow out of it one day, and maybe I will. But I don’t want to. It feels like what I was made for, somehow.”

He clasped his hands together tightly.

“But no one understands it.”

“Well, can’t you just be a shinigami that focuses on balance? That doesn’t sound so bad.”

Kid stopped the tremor that threatened to run through him at how much he wanted it. How much he craved to be allowed to act the way he desired without being shamed for it. It was a thought no one ever allowed him to entertain. It was always stop being so neurotic, Kid. Pull yourself together, Kid. You’ll never be anything if you keep acting this way, Kid. Black Star might have been one of the few people that didn’t talk to him that way, in fact.

But it didn’t change who he was.

Kid slumped heavily against the bedframe beside Black Star. “I can long for order all I want. But when it comes down to it, my name is Death too.”

Black Star matched his pose, staring forlornly at the ceiling. “Guess we’re both fucked, then.”

Kid closed his eyes and let a breath out of his nose, close to a laugh.

There was something comforting about Black Star relating to his shinigami problems. Or, perhaps more specifically, being related to at all. Kid thought he’d gotten so used to being separate from humanity. For the majority of his life, he’d been told that he wasn’t like the people he would be serving one day. Being able to relate to Black Star proved that Kid might not be as “other” as he had been led to believe.

Kid thought about how otherworldly Lord Death—his own father— felt, even to him, and cringed at the thought that this moment might one day feel like a distant memory. Being shoulder to shoulder with Black Star in their pajamas, commiserating about their parents like two teenage boys afraid of growing up. What would it feel like, when he’s Lord Death one day? Would Black Star feel further away? Would it feel like that moment minutes ago, when Black Star said he’d be leaving? His stomach swooped again at the thought of it.

He wanted to revel in it. This closeness. He leaned heavily to his left, knocking shoulders with Black Star. The warmth of his skin against Kid’s was comforting. The contact was familiar.

“I’m sure the others feel like that too. Maka feels pressure because of her parents, surely.”

Black Star bore the weight of Kid easily, not bothering to push him away.

“Yeah, but the difference is Maka loves her parents, despite how she acts.” Black Star said matter-of-factly. Kid felt inclined to agree.

How Black Star felt about his father went without saying. He turned a little to face Kid. “Do you love your old man?”

It stopped Kid short. Kid chewed on the question for a while. He wasn’t sure.

They weren’t particularly affectionate with one another. He’d hardly even felt the desire to spend time with his father as of late. Maybe it was just because he finally had other friends. He had Liz and Patti, partners who loved him and complemented him better than anyone else in the world. He had Soul and Maka, who always treated him so warmly, inviting him to their apartment for tea and gossip like any other student. He had Stein and Miss Marie and Sid, authority figures that treated him like a child instead of a prince. And he had…

He looked at Black Star quickly, then looked away.

“I don’t know,” he said, answering Black Star’s question. “Maybe shinigamis love differently than humans do. He always feels so far away. I can never guess what he’s feeling.”

“Well,” Black Star said softly, shifting a little. His fingers twitched, brushing against Kid’s. “That sounds pretty human to me.”

Maybe that’s what this feeling was. Humanity. Kid didn’t want to let go of it. The comfort of being surrounded by humans, of being treated as fallible. Of being protected. Of being loved. As a shinigami, he was taught not to expect any of these things, and Kid was afraid of going back to that kind of coldness.

His fingers gripped Black Star’s, a hand almost as familiar to Kid as his own partners’.

This is what I want to hold on to, he thought. This is the sort of feeling that doesn’t require balance.

When he turned and leaned in to Black Star, he expected to see surprise on his face, but it wasn’t there. The look in his eyes was inviting and calm, that quiet part of Black Star that so few got to see. His soul was spiking nervously, but Kid imagined that in this moment his probably looked the same. It didn’t stop him from leaning in. Kid tilted his face to the side, nose brushing up against Black Star’s, feeling his breath on his cheek and marveling at how good it felt. He didn’t want to rush it, but he couldn’t think of anything else he’d rather do. Their lips just barely grazed each other when—

Black Star jerked away like a bucket of cold water had been dumped on him.

Kid leaned back, panting.

The moment felt peaceful just a second ago, but now Black Star was skittering away on the floor before leaping to his feet and pacing across the room.

“Is something wrong?” Kid asked, stupidly. Clearly something was wrong, but he didn’t know what.

“No,” Black Star said, clearly lying. “I mean. It’s just—I can’t—” He folded his arms behind his head and turned away. Kid couldn’t see his face, but at that moment, he wasn’t sure if he wanted to.

Black Star took a shaky breath. “It’s just too much, you know?”

Rejection washed through Kid, cold and sharp. It was not usual for him to feel like he was too much. Plenty of people couldn’t handle Kid; they’d even told him to his face. He just never expected one of those people to be Black Star.

His fingers felt numb as he twisted the ring on his right index finger, then the one on the left.

“Right,” he agreed quietly. “As I said, my heart is different. Maybe shinigamis just feel differently than humans do.”

Kid wakes with a sudden start.

Of course, his mind would conjure up the worst sort of dream. He hadn’t thought about that for months. It was too painful to think about the sweetness of that moment, the bright hopefulness Kid felt as he’d leaned in toward Black Star, right before he pulled away. Black Star had left not long after that, and something about Kid’s room has felt haunted with the memory ever since.

Kid gets up, dresses in his suit, and leaves the Gallows Mansion. He can’t stay here, not with that memory lingering in his mind, not with the hollow silence of the mansion pressing down on him. Death City is most alive at nighttime, so Kid walks toward the city, hoping the bustling sound of night life will help clear his head.

Clubs boom with bass-heavy music, and Kid side-steps around tipsy humans stumbling down the street. It’s the sort of fun he’s never been familiar with, but the people look happy all the same. Humans put their bodies through so much just for a few hours of forgetfulness, and in this moment, Kid can’t blame them.

Unconsciously, his body marches him right toward Death Weapon Meister Academy. Even when he’s trying to avoid harsh memories, he seems to lead himself right to them.

Kid sighs and begins to climb the staircase.

The academy has always been like a second home to him. Being Lord Death’s son means the DWMA was always his playground. He’s roamed this campus more than all the students and teachers combined. It wasn’t until a few years ago, when his father told him of his duty to one day take over as the world’s Lord Death, that Kid had stopped stalking the halls of the academy and confined himself to the Death Room with his father. He’d had that silly throne built, convinced that he needed a proper place to perch for when he eventually ruled over death. He’d sat and observed his father’s actions for years, until the day he’d watched an extra lesson with a group of students almost get them killed.

Kid shakes his head.

God, it was always Black Star. His mind couldn’t conjure up anything else lately. Even from the beginning, the idea to join the academy at all was because he’d seen Stein use his wavelength to electrocute Black Star. The cruelty of the supposed “lesson” had Kid leaping to his feet, ready to break through the mirror and help him. It had always been Black Star.

Even if he didn’t feel the same way.

Kid reaches the top of the colossal staircase. The last place he’d spoken to Black Star.

After Black Star left that night, Kid had no idea where he went. He thought of using his Soul Perception to look for him in the city, but had respected Black Star’s need for space. He let him leave the Gallows Mansion in a frustrated huff. As much as Kid wanted to try and smooth things over somehow, he wouldn’t have known what to say. That he was sorry? That he took it back?

If Kid had a choice, he probably would have spent the next week avoiding eye contact with Black Star after his failed attempt at connection. But Black Star never did what people wanted him to do.

He cornered Kid in one of the classrooms the following day, a mean glint in his eye that had left Kid reeling when he commanded Kid to come outside. Kid followed him soundlessly, expecting perhaps a second round of rejection, and instead witnessed Black Star lightly walk to the end of that right spike and slam his fist down. Kid watched the spike crash down into the courtyard below, not understanding what was going on until Black Star challenged him to a fight.

And maybe Kid had been too harsh. But the hurt that had built up inside him over the past day was making his fists itch, and if Black Star wanted a way to take out his problems, Kid wasn’t going to make it that easy for him. It’s not like Black Star cared if he hurt him, so why should Kid give a shit?

It was symmetry, obviously. For every painful pulse of Kid’s heart, he laid into Black Star, not caring about his turmoil. Even when the fight was decidedly over, Kid placed a foot on the back of his head and smashed him into the ground, a crater forming around them both from the impact.

Weak.

None of Kid’s blows would have had a lasting effect on Black Star. But that one word would.

It was petty, and maybe a little mean, but it worked. Kid had won the fight, and he felt no better than he did when the day had started.

And yet somehow, when all the chips were down, it was Black Star who saved him from that mage in Baba Yaga’s Castle. The unsteady beating of Kid’s heart quickens at the thought of it. His arm, lying in a pool of blood in front of him. His body, frozen in place from the imbalance. That hand, reaching for him, to capture him, to kill him, to prove Kid’s glaring weakness would always be his downfall.

And somehow, Black Star was there. Kid didn’t even know he’d returned from Japan, but suddenly he was in front of him, saving him when Kid had been nothing but cruel to him the last time they spoke.

It’s simple stuff, really. Black Star had once said.

That’s why he has me.

Kid’s vision blurs as he looks at that spike. From where he stands, no one would ever be able to tell that a ninja had destroyed it.

Weak.

The only weak person here is Kid.

Kid’s equilibrium has always been impeccable. That’s not the reason he’s swaying right now, as he takes slow and measured steps to the edge of the red spike. It’s not the height either, though the courtyard at the summit of the DWMA’s colossal staircase lies 50 feet below him. But he feels himself swaying all the same, the heavy mallet in his grip pulsing like its alive. It’s a dead thing, a normal inanimate tool, but the potential destruction lying within it is the same as any weapon student at this academy.

As the sun rises, Kid walks toward the tip of the decorative spike. Through his blurred vision he can just make out the heavy duty bolts he had hammered into it but a few months ago. The neat lines of melted solder is his handiwork as well, bringing out a soldering gun Kid purchased with his own funds to reattach the spike that Black Star had cruelly destroyed for a second time.

Maybe symmetry had always been Kid’s problem. If this was the one way he could prove to himself that he didn’t need it, maybe it would change something. Maybe Black Star’s investigation would finally become important, maybe Kid’s research would finally be fruitful, maybe the hollow feeling in his chest would finally stop gaping wider and wider, the guilt clawing at the edges of the cavity painfully.

Kid raises the mallet.

Symmetry doesn’t matter. Order isn’t important. Kid is a god, he will not be held down—held back—by such insignificant notions anymore. He rears the mallet back, not acknowledging how his hands shake, how his eyes sting, because that doesn’t matter. He will destroy this stupid, decorative spike and prove once and for all that he isn’t a liability.

It’s simple stuff, really.

It’s not. He doesn’t need protection, he doesn’t to be saved. He’s Death the fucking Kid, he just needs to bring this stupid mallet down—

His breath hitches high, his shoulders going numb.

He just needs to bring this stupid mallet down—

He just needs to—

He just—

“Kid?”

Kid hauls in a gasp. The spike shakes, the even vibrations of footsteps quickly approaching. Someone is pulling the mallet gently from his grip, fingers closing around his shoulders and pulling him back toward solid ground. Kid can hardly see through his tears.

“Kid?” Tsubaki says again.

“I’m sorry,” he lets out, before falling to pieces.

He’s not sure how long he cries for. Tsubaki, in all her gentle patience, holds him through all of it, pressing his face into her shoulder, though she must loathe him. Kid sure does, so he can’t see why Tsubaki wouldn’t. It makes him cry harder, to think that in all of this he hasn’t thought of her feelings. He’s been so caught up in his own grief he’s barely had time to think about how hard these last few months has been on her, how the soul she was so intrinsically connected to is gone.

But she holds him tightly, her arms a warm and comforting embrace, her fingers gently combing through his hair as his sobs taper off into pathetic hiccups.

“I’m sorry,” he tries again, but it’s just as weak as before.

“What are you sorry for?” she asks earnestly. “And what were you even doing up there?”

Kid tries his best to explain. Between stuttering breaths and continuously swallowing down the lump in his throat, Kid tells her how this whole thing, this whole stupid mess is his fault. How he tried to fix it, tried to fix him, by intentionally destroying.

Tsubaki looks shocked at that. “You were destroying the symmetry of the academy? Why would you punish yourself like that?”

Kid has nothing to say to that. The answer is clear.

“Kid? Kid look at me.” With effort, Kid does. It’s the most eye contact he’s made with her in months. The cavern in his heart grows wider.

She lays a hand on his cheek. “This isn’t your fault.”

Kid jerks away bitterly. “Even you don’t believe that.”

It takes a moment before she responds again. Tsubaki takes a deep breath.

“You’re right.”

Kid’s eyes cut to hers.

Tsubaki’s gaze doesn’t waver. “You’re right. Part of me thinks it’s your fault. I haven’t been able to speak to you this whole time because I didn’t want to say it.”

Kid nods. It’s what he deserves to hear. He lets his heart crumble, the emptiness feeling all consuming—

But Tsubaki grips his hands in hers, hard.

“But Black Star doesn’t think that.”

Kid’s voice is small. “What?”

Tsubaki rubs her thumbs over Kid’s knuckles. “I know my partner better than anyone. Black Star would never for a second blame you for the predicament he’s in now. It was his choice to jump between you and that man. And he didn’t do it because you were too weak,” Tsubaki says with a sad smile. “He did it because he’s Black Star. He’d never willingly stand aside if you were going to be hurt. That’s just the kind of person he is.”

The pressure inside of Kid lightens, just a little bit.

“He’s an idiot,” Kid says, mirroring Tsubaki’s sad smile.

A little laugh escapes her. “I know that better than anyone, too.” She swings their hands between them gently. “So, if you can forgive my partner for being an idiot and getting himself into trouble, you can forgive yourself too, right? Neither of you can help who you are.”

The smile stays on Kid’s face until that last part. But what she said has helped him. He’s made his mind up.

“You’re right, Tsubaki,” he says, feeling more sure of himself than he has all day.

He can’t help who he is.

Kid marches into the Death Room, set on finally having an honest talk with his father. He’s waited long enough for the nebulous “time and place” to rescue Black Star. If Lord Death himself wasn’t going to spearhead the search, Kid would do it himself.

At least, that was the conversation he planned on having. But instead of finding his father sitting idly at his tea table, when Kid enters the Death Room, he sees, of all things, a party.

Raucous music thumps through the chamber. There are three scantily clad Chupa Cabra’s employees distributing booze to Spirit Albarn, Professor Stein, and Miss Marie. Even his father holds a cup, liquid sloshing over the side as he raises his arm with the others in a hearty cheer. For some reason, Maka and Soul are here too, standing a few paces back, looking just as baffled as Kid and Tsubaki.

Kid feels like he walked into another dimension.

“What the hell is going on here?”

Lord Death tips his head back to look around Spirit, whose tie is wound around his head like a headband.

“Kid! Perfect timing! Come join the party!”

The party.

The

party.

The low-hanging misty clouds in the Death Room start to darken.

“Kid?”

His father’s silly voice comes out confused. Like he couldn’t possibly gather why this joyous celebration of life might not be appropriate, given the situation. All of the situations.

“Is now really the time, Father?” Kid asks, voice low.

“Come, sit down, have some food! I was just going to tell—”

“No,” Kid says.

Thunder claps loudly. The whole room flinches. Kid doesn’t care.

“I’m going to tell you something. Your nonchalance for the past few months has been shameful. One of your students was kidnapped on one of your missions, and you’ve done nothing for him. And now you audaciously throw a party when the GOD OF MADNESS is bringing the world to ruin, something else that YOU CAUSED—”

The thunder bellows again, and when lightning flashes across the Death Room, all the inhabitants instinctively duck.

Lord Death stands up and hovers over Kid at his full height, the soulless eyes of his mask looking down at him intimidatingly.

“Kid, stop.”

And for once, he doesn’t use his silly voice.

Kid doesn’t back down, but he takes a deep, slow breath. The clouds in the Death Room dissipate, and the room slowly starts to brighten. Kid looks at his father.

Lord Death’s voice is calm. He reaches a large, gloved hand backwards. Maka steps forward gingerly and places a thick white book in his over-sized palm.

“We were celebrating because—” he holds the book out to Kid “—we found him.”

Kid gasps.

Like flicking on a light, the Chupa Cabra employee’s souls light up, powerful magic radiating from them. Kid blinks at the realization. They’ve released Soul Protect. They’re witches.

None of the other meisters in the room look surprised. Stein and Sid watch the women carefully, and Maka’s eyes are on the book in Lord Death’s hands, guilt clouding her expression.

Lord Death ignores everyone else’s reactions, eyes boring into Kid’s and Kid’s only.

“We found Black Star. Extraction begins tomorrow.”

3. black star

It takes Black Star longer than it probably should to realize what’s happened to him.

He remembers Baba Yaga’s Castle. He remembers Kid’s panic, his arm splattering to the floor, a few feet from the rest of him. He remembers a menacing hand, reaching for him once more, this time with the intent to do much worse than remove an arm. He remembers running. And then--?

He shakes his head a little, the movement causing a loud clanking sound above his head. The sound stirs his memory a bit more, and as his thoughts start to clear his senses return to him. There’s an awkward stretch to his arms, his shoulders rotated uncomfortably. His pulse pounds in his ears. And he feels heavy.

Finally, Black Star peels his eyes open.

This doesn’t look like Baba Yaga’s Castle.

It’s darker than he expected. He’s in a large room, or at least he assumes it’s a room. Beneath his feet is a dusty black and white tiled floor, and before him he sees an ornate table and a matching set of chairs. When he cranes his neck he can see a high vaulted ceiling above him, but even when he squints into the darkness beyond the table set, he can’t make out the opposing wall that must be there. The only light in the room comes from somewhere behind him. A stained-glass window shines a colored pattern on the tiled floor.

Black Star himself seems to be suspended in the middle of the room. The shackles that were slapped on his wrists moments ago (when was that? Minutes ago? Hours? How long was he out?) are still on him, now attached to a long chain hanging from the ceiling. Black Star’s arms have been yanked above his head, so here he hangs, his bare and bandaged feet just barely able to touch the floor. How the hell did he get here?

“Hello?” Black Star croaks into the empty air. He grimaces at the sound of his own voice, clears his throat and tries again. “HELLO?”

Nothing.

Where the hell is he? How long was he out?

“HELLOOOOO? ANYBODY HOME?” he shouts, his voice stretching and echoing in the dimly lit chamber.

A hard blow to his back, right between his shoulder blades, alerts Black Star that he is not alone in this room. The breath he just sucked in to prepare for another shout is abruptly punched out of him. Black Star flounders for a moment before pulling in a gasp.

“Silence, captive! You’re disturbing Noah-sama’s peace!” his assailant says, squeaky and irritated.

“Who the fuck are you?” Black Star growls.

A boy not much older than Black Star, with slicked back hair and an impressive frown comes into view.

“My name is no concern of yours, captive,” he says.

A much more intimidating voice speaks next. “So your name is of no concern, but you dare to speak mine?”

The boy shivers, his upper half snapping downward into a deep bow.

“I deeply apologize, Noah-sama!”

A dark hand reaches out and strikes the boy abruptly on the back of the head. His bow deepens. It’s that hand that has Black Star on alert. This is the man who hurt Kid with a single touch. He twists in his restraints, pulling his hands apart and testing the strength of the iron when—

“AUGHH!!!”

A shock like a bolt of lightning runs through Black Star.

He hangs limply for a moment, panting. The pain surprised him so much that he doesn’t have the energy to cower when Noah steps into his line of sight. Through the haze of pain Black Star eyes him, a tall, dark-skinned man in a military cap and black jacket. His clothing doesn’t hold Black Star’s attention though. All he can fixate on is the smug grin on his face.

“Do you like your restraints? I made them myself.”

Black Star grits his teeth.

“No? A shame. They’re a fine creation. A bona fide Magic Tool worthy of Eibon himself.” He paces around Black Star, just out of his line of vision. Try as he might to twist his neck to look over his shoulder, the angle of Black Star’s arms above his head limits his range of moment. Noah’s deep voice continues to speak somewhere behind him. “Unfortunately, those cuffs were not meant for you. You’re an unexpected complication to my plans.”

Black Star doesn’t like the sound of that. An “unexpected complication” sounds a lot like “collateral damage.” He can’t see the man’s hands. He has no way to block him if Noah touches him.

“You see,” he continues calmly. “There was a certain person I was expecting to add to my collection. A god, if you will.”

Kid.

Black Star twists again, trying to track Noah’s movements.

“And I was this close to having him in my grasp. That is until someone—”

Suddenly he’s in front of Black Star, fist rearing back. Black Star lifts his legs up, forcing himself to hang heavily from his restraints to protect himself, but Noah reacquaints Black Star with his superhuman speed, easily connecting his fist to Black Star’s stomach before his knees can guard his core. The blow is so much worse than his servant’s last hit. Black Star swings back on his restraints, almost perpendicular with the ground, before heavily flopping back down, his full weight snapping against the place where his wrists touch the cuffs.

“—decided to take his place. It was very rude of you to ruin my plans, boy.”

It takes a moment for Black Star to even remember how to cough, much less breathe. He rasps out a dry breath, surprising himself that he hasn’t thrown up. His restraints clank together loudly for several long moments, until Black Star finally stops swinging.

Noah looks down his nose at Black Star like he’s an insect needing to be squashed.

“Now I have to decide what to do with you.”

“Kill him, Noah-sama. We have no need for him,” the younger boy calls petulantly.

“Silence, Gopher,” Noah snaps, rearing back to look at the boy. Gopher cowers in fear yet again.

Noah turns his attention back to Black Star. “My insulant servant makes a point,” he says to Black Star, continuing his slow pacing once more. “I have no need for humans in my collection. I’m aiming my attention much higher.”

Black Star’s blood boils at the insinuation of his own weakness. Against his better judgement, he speaks up. “You think I’m not worth keeping around? I’m not just a human. I’m the man who will defeat GOD,” he says with his whole chest.

Noah’s eyebrows rise in surprise, hidden under the shadow of his cap. “Oh?”

He rears back his fist again. Black Star knew speaking out of turn would have consequences, but if this man was going to kill him anyway, the least Black Star could do was not be a fucking wimp about it. He braces himself for the blow—

But it never comes.

Noah’s fist stops centimeters from his face, the veins popping in his arms from restraint.

He lowers his arm slowly. “You think you will defeat God?”

Black Star spits at his feet, a small bit of blood mixed into his saliva. “I know I will.”

Noah appraises him. His silence is just as intimidating as his yelling. Black Star does his best not to wince or tense just feeling Noah’s gaze fall on him. Something in Noah’s expression changes, like the flip of a switch, from intensity to calm neutrality.

A small flame lights inside of Black Star. Maybe this man won’t kill him.

Suddenly, that all-encompassing electric current runs through his body again, a cobra strike of unadulterated pain.

Black Star screams. It only lasts a moment, but it’s just as powerful as the first time, and just as surprising. All of Black Star’s nerve endings feel fried.

Black Star cracks open an eyelid he barely remembers closing, and when his vision clears, he sees Noah’s face, directly in front of his.

“You think you will defeat God.” A smug grin splits his face in two as he watches Black Star tremble. Black Star can feel Noah’s breath on his face as whispers with a vindictive kind of glee. “You can’t even get yourself out of those cuffs.”

Black Star lunges at him, but is stopped short by his restraints.

When the shock rips through his body this time, he expects it.

Black Star is left alive, but only just.

He’s not sure where he is, but it doesn’t seem like the reality he’s used to. He hasn’t had a crumb of food or a drop to water in what feels like days, but somehow, he’s still kicking.

And kicking he is, aiming a wild shot at Gopher, the servant boy who seems to have been tasked with watching over him while Noah is away. Black Star isn’t close enough to make contact unless he swings back on his cuffs to give him more leverage. His wrists have been rubbed raw a long time ago, and it hurts like a motherfucker to do so, but Black Star opts to swing anyway.

He clips him with his foot, probably not hard enough to hurt, but he rocks back a little in surprise. It makes him mad, which is the real goal.

“Quit it!” he shouts, sounding like a child trying to appeal to an older sibling to stop bullying him. All of his tough-guy bravado seems to evaporate the second Noah leaves, which is interesting, since he’s a submissive little bitch the second Noah opens his mouth around him anyway.

“Make me,” Black Star says with a laugh. It’s easier to feel optimistic when the freak mage is away. Noah has opted not to kill Black Star—for now—saying that he’s using him as experimentation for the cuffs. All’s well for Black Star, who spends his time optimistically tormenting his guard. He doesn’t have to figure out the cuffs. That sounds like a Maka job, maybe a Stein one. His mind skirts off Kid’s name and swoops away from it, not wanting to think about Kid too hard. Last time Black Star saw him he was down one arm. Even if they did manage to patch Kid up to make him ready for a rescue mission, the last time they spoke to each other…

Whatever. Black Star elects not to think about it. He taunts Gopher in the meantime, knowing rescue will come soon.

A shock wave hits his body again, hard and fast. Black Star grits his teeth, shaking his arms in frustration. The chains above him clang together, taunting him.

“Ha!” Gopher mocks gleefully, now a safe distance away from Black Star. He sits on the table and stares at Black Star. “Not so cocky now, are you?”

The pain doesn’t go away once the cuffs stop shocking him. His whole body retains the sting. Every skin cell, every strand of hair, every muscle, every bone. It takes more effort than he’d like to admit to appear unaffected, but Black Star tries. He won’t let this coward see him down.

“Don’t have to be cocky to know I’m stronger than you,” Black Star says, his voice hoarse. His vocal chords get fried too, and god forbid these people give him water. “That’s not ego talking; it’s a fact.”

Black Star doesn’t think he’s ever seen someone frown so aggressively. Maybe Kid, when Soul sacrificed the Gallows Mansion décor as punishment during a game of pick-up basketball. When Soul said they’d move all the picture frames 2 centimeters if their team lost, Kid looked like he’d been shot. But even that hilarious expression has nothing on this guy.

Gopher stands up suddenly—on top of the table, of all places—and holds his arms out wide. Before Black Star can ask what the hell he’s doing, Gopher is jumping high, and inky black wings are shooting from his back and gliding him right towards Black Star. He gets a fist to his face for his smart mouth, and in one smooth motion Gopher has glided back to the table and landed lightly on his feet.

The whole thing lasted maybe 3 seconds.

His frown is replaced by a cocky grin, which looks wrong on his face, like his facial muscles aren’t used to turning his mouth upwards.

“Impressed now, captive?”

Finally, some entertainment.

Black Star spits out a bit of blood.

“Not even a little bit.”

It goes on like that for a while. Black Star taunting Gopher, Gopher taking out his inadequate fighting prowess on Black Star, rinse, repeat. Maybe Black Star shouldn’t be goading the enemy on, but he’s fought toddlers stronger than this guy, and it keeps things interesting. It’s better than hanging here, alone with his thoughts.

That’s a much more dangerous game. Because then his mind begins to wander.

How many days has it been?

How long until someone comes looking for him?

Is Tsubaki doing okay without him?

How is Kid’s arm? Is he recovering okay?

Has the search party already started?

Are they mad at him for getting caught?

Is anyone taking care of Angela?

Does Kid still hate him because of their last fight?

When will help come?

It’s exhausting. Black Star doesn’t like wallowing in his self-pity, but being stuck here has given him plenty of wallowing time. Just when he thought he was getting over that hump, passing through the storm that had been raging in his mind, he finds himself kidnapped and waiting for rescue. Another feather to add to the Black Star dunce cap.

It’s not that he hasn’t tried freeing himself. Gopher isn’t always around, and he hasn’t seen Noah since that first day. (How many days has it been?) When Black Star isn’t being watched by that brat he goes to work, using all the strength he can muster to twist his hands back and forth in their shackles, to push and pull and push and pull like he might be wriggle out or weaken his bonds somehow.

But whenever Black Star feels he’s making progress, his sweaty hand dipping a little lower in the cuff or the metal groaning a tiny bit under his force, a blast of electric energy ripples through his entire body, like it’s a lightning bolt designated to strike right when Black Star’s hope is at its peak.

The shock always takes him out, losing his concentration in escape and sometimes just making him lose consciousness altogether.

When he comes to, he’s back where he started, hanging limply in the dim light of the room, with dark thoughts rolling in.

It’s hard to know how long he’s been here. After this long, Black Star has at least been able to deduce that it’s not the same reality he’s used to. Enough time has passed for Black Star to either be dead from starvation or dehydration, and yet neither have done him in. He also notes that injuries don’t seem to heal wherever he is, or if they do, it’s much slower.

The bandages Nygus carefully wove around his head and feet fell away ages ago, and Black Star has watched the blood steadily pool beneath his feet for what feels like centuries. He watches the slow drips spatter into dark pools on the tile below him and invents meaning for the different shapes to pass the time.

A fist that looks oddly like Fire or Thunder.

A swoop that sort of resembles Soul’s scythe form.

A skull shape that looks the rings Kid wears on each index finger.

It’s not the most entertaining way to pass the time, but it’s a change in scenery. Sometime Black Star wakes up from another round of shocking and the blood is gone. It’s hard to tell if it’s the logic of this strange place that eliminates it or if Gopher has come and cleaned it up. Black Star hopes it’s the latter, if only for the hilarious image he has in his head of Gopher crawling beneath him with a cloth, mopping up his blood and cowering every time Black Star so much as twitches, fearing a kick to the head.

At this point he should have bled out, too. Probably.

But still he lives.

“Having fun in your imprisonment, little Star Clan boy?” Gopher says as he practically skips into view.

Black Star, tracing a pattern of blood on the floor resembling a cat, looks up suddenly at that.

“What did you just say?”

Gopher sneers. “I thought that might get a reaction. Noah-sama is very thorough in researching what’s being kept in his collection.” He sits down on the table and again and crosses his legs primly. He lifts up a clipboard he’s been carrying and reads robotically. “Black Star. Former Star Clan member. Collected by DWMA at age one and monitored regularly by head of the intelligence division. Weapons specialist. Assassin-in-training.”

Black Star rolls his eyes. Well, the one eye that isn’t swollen. “I’m not an ‘assassin-in-training.’ Just an assassin. Period. And what the hell do you mean, ‘monitored’?” Sid and Nygus were his foster parents, not some guard dogs.

Gopher flips through the pages idly. “You didn’t really think the DWMA would just let a Star Clan member run around off-leash, did you?”

“I’m not a Star Clan member. Those idiots were reaped when I was just a brat.”

“And you were the one that wasn’t reaped. Makes sense why they had to keep a close eye on you. Didn’t you just say you were an assassin?”

“It’s not the same thing,” Black Star growls. “I’m not like them.”

Gopher crosses his arms behind his back and smiles. “Sounds the same to me.”

Black Star wants nothing more than to wipe that stupid smirk off his face. He wants to kick him in the nuts and pound his stupid face until it’s black and blue. He wants rip his stupid oily hair out of his stupid oily head and hit him with his Soul Force—

A bolt of electricity rips through his body, shocking him from fingertips to feet.

“FUCK,” Black Star shouts. “God. Fuck.”

Gopher looks exceedingly pleased.

Black Star hangs heavily, ignoring Gopher and focusing on the pain, the way his whole body trembles from it.

This should be the easy part. The pain. Black Star has taken a lot of hits in his life, he thought he was accustomed to the feel of it. He was Star Clan after all. A double-edged sword destined to slice himself up at every opportunity. He had inherited the power and skill of his namesake, which made him dangerous, but not the morals, which made him an enigma. People didn’t know how to act around the boy who should have been reaped. He could tell since he was just a brat that every second of his life he would be forced to prove himself, and that motivated him when it would have made others crumble.

Black Star took it in stride. The scrutiny, the apprehension, the fear that he’d turn out like the demon that gave him life. He didn’t care why they were looking, all that was important was that all eyes were on him. Gathering adoring fans was that much easier when he already had an audience. He’d make sure that no one would be able to associate him with the Star Clan, because every time they heard the name Black Star it would be laced with greatness.

So he trained. He got stronger, faster, louder, bolder, and it really felt like it was working. He partnered with Tsubaki, the most versatile weapon in DWMA history, to further prove the point that he was the fucking best, and no one was able to dispute it. Except—

“Another mission and no souls?” Sid propped his head on his fist and looked at Black Star from across the table. “You botched it again, didn’t you?”

“Did I ask for the color commentary?” Black Star asked around a mouthful of dinner, glaring at Sid over his plate.

“No, but as a teacher I feel like I have the right to give it,” Sid said evenly.

“We’ll get one, just give it a rest already,” Black Star said, but he was deflecting, and they both knew it. He had the skill to collect souls. He had the drive, but—

He rolled his arm in its socket, his left hand gripping his right shoulder tightly.

Sid watched his motions carefully, eyes tracing Black Star’s tattoo. “If you’re still feeling self-conscious about it, the DWMA has name changing forms in the front office. No one would associate you with him anymore.”

But Black Star hated that idea. Changing his name was as good as giving up. He’d carry the weight of his father’s sins and rise above it, the way he always had—

Gopher’s bitchy little fingers snap sharply, the sound echoing in empty expanse of the dark room.

“Are you even listening to me?” Gopher barks, right up in Black Star’s face.

Black Star blinks.

No, he wasn’t. He doesn’t even remember zoning out, but somewhere along the way he got lost in a memory. The longer he stays here, the harder it is to focus on the here and now.

Gopher does his best to taunt him further, but Black Star’s mind is still back at that dinner table with Sid, wondering if collecting a soul would have made difference either way. Everyone already knew he was the strongest meister at the academy. He could have made Tsubaki a Death Scythe in no time at all if he really put his mind to it.

But there was just something about Black Star, son of White Star, collecting souls…

It was Death the Kid who brought things into focus for Black Star.

Sure, Black Star was strong, anyone with eyes could see that. But proving that he was the best was hard when people like Maka and Soul were so easily besting him in the soul-collecting department. And as much as Maka liked to trot around and act like she was better than everyone for being such a model student, Black Star could see through her shtick. He wasn’t aiming to be a teacher’s pet, he was aiming to be the biggest, strongest guy around. Killing small-fry kishin to rack up 99 souls might have been a quantifiable way to prove greatness, but where was the quality?

Enter: Death the Kid.

Black Star couldn’t have planned anything more perfect. A shinigami was coming to study at the academy. A living, breathing god.

Fuck soul-collecting. Black Star had a new goal. “The man who would defeat God” had a much nicer ring to it than “strongest kid in school,” after all.

Kid was everything he expected a shinigami to be. Powerful, capable, precise. A perfect match-up for someone like Black Star to test his skills on. Except—

Well, he also wasn’t anything like Black Star expected. Neurotic to the point of it being almost embarrassing, Kid dropped like a brick whenever his symmetry was disturbed. Black Star and Soul narrowly won their fight against him on his first day of school, a victory Black Star loved lording over him, but in the long-run it didn’t feel like it meant much. Black Star wanted a proper fight with Kid, and he wanted to win.

After that, Black Star measured himself against Kid at every available opportunity. In height, Kid was 2 centimeters taller than him. In meister skills, Kid had Soul Perception and an unwavering trust between him and his partners that made his power output explosive and deadly. In basketball, he had a killer jump shot.

“Are you just good at everything?” Black Star asked one day, smacking the ball out of his hands after the last play. Kid only smirked at him, which was all the more annoying.

But he was also such a weirdo. The first time they spent together by themselves was their mission to find Excalibur. Black Star couldn’t not go, after finding out his rival was searching to find the strongest weapon in the world, Black Star had to get to it first. To wield it himself or prevent Kid from getting to it, he wasn’t sure. What he didn’t anticipate was carrying Kid piggyback after he refused to walk through a few inches of water, worried about the hems of his suit pants getting damp. Black Star could hardly remember how negotiations went for that, just that suddenly his archrival was seated on his back, his legs looped tightly around Black Star’s waist like he was nervous he’d let him go. Black Star couldn’t make sense of it.

And maybe after that it was a little easier to tolerate him. He was fun to mess with, fucking around with things in the Gallows Mansion just to watch Kid blow a gasket trying to return everything to its proper place. He’d partner with Kid in the gym and show off his strength like it was nothing, only for Kid to make a comment about his superior pinky strength that would send Black Star into a tailspin. They made Patti measure their pinky widths with measuring tape (Kid’s was slightly bigger), and then they both spent the next hour trying to do pull-ups from their pinkies alone.

He was funny, with a wry sense of a humor hidden behind a prim and proper exterior. A sly comment coming from Kid always felt like a gift somehow, an exclusive moment the two of them shared.

And he was strong. Black Star, Maka, and their partners found themselves on Kid’s Resonance Team, and when their souls reached out for one another for the first time, Black Star’s connected with Kid’s with no complications: two Lego bricks clicking together like they were meant to be connected, while Black Star and Maka repelled each other like water and oil, despite being friends since they were little.

The idea of Kid being Black Star’s rival wasn’t at the forefront of his mind anymore, and he didn’t really care. They’d go into a battle together, and Black Star would jump into the fray with the reckless abandon of a man who knew his back was covered. Sometimes he came out a little more battered than necessary, but if it meant keeping his teammates out of harm’s way, Black Star didn’t mind much. Having all eyes on him was more his speed, and the glowing pair of gold ones that always seemed to be following him didn’t hurt, either.

But then things started to shift. Then Kishin was revived. The Uncanny Sword was getting harder to use. Then Black Star lost to Mifune. Then to Mosquito. Loss after loss after loss was piling up on Black Star’s heart, and the pressure was starting to hurt. Why could he not win anymore? He thought he was getting stronger, but all of a sudden every step he took had him backsliding further. Black Star could feel it affecting him, corroding his insides with every passing day. Something needed to change.

“We could go see my family?” Tsubaki said after finally cornering Black Star into confessing what was blackening his mood.

Black Star slammed his open palm into the swinging punching bag before him, not using Soul Force on it this time because Nygus kept harping on him and Kid for “damaging the equipment.”

“What does your family have to do with anything?” he asked crossly.

Tsubaki was more patient with him than he deserved. She always took his dark moods in stride. She smiled politely and caught the bag on an upswing, absorbing the momentum of it and lowering it to a still position carefully.

“They might be able to teach us more about the Uncanny Sword. Don’t you think the Nakatsukasa Clan would be the perfect people to ask?”

Black Star had always assumed every problem could be solved through force of will alone. But it was starting to become clearer that he needed help. He nodded, and Tsubaki let him know she would make the arrangements soon. It might not be enough to make a difference, but it was worth trying. Nothing at the DWMA seemed to be helping, anyway.

Going to Japan again was concerning, but Black Star would get through it the same way he always had. White Star’s mistakes were his to bear now. The hatred he received would fade when the people of Japan bore witness to Black Star’s greatness. Probably.

Kid saw through him easily when he told him about it. Black Star shouldn’t have been surprised. Kid had Soul Perception, so he probably just took a peek in Black Star’s chest and saw how erratic he was feeling. (Though Black Star knew deep down that wasn’t it. That Kid knew him. Better than most, in fact. Kid was always surprising him with how much he knew about Black Star, or how much he could tell just from his silence.) Black Star did what he always ended up doing around Kid: opening up. He wasn’t sure how an over-powered shinigami with a symmetry obsession had that kind of effect on him, but somewhere down the line Black Star had gotten closer to Kid than he ever thought possible.

But something about that closeness felt…wrong.

Getting close to Kid, in that moment, was too much of a mindfuck. Black Star could feel himself teetering on the edge of a dark precipice, and somehow Kid was beside him, talking about how similar they were. They both had issues comparing themselves to their fathers, they both held themselves to higher esteems than other people, and their perfectionism got the best of them. He framed it like it was a good thing, like they were equals, and it made Black Star want to scream.

Because they couldn’t be equals. Not then. Black Star was supposed to defeat God, and now here he was, leaving the academy with his tail between his legs to go find some outside source to help him regain his strength. Kid wasn’t allowed to be this low. He wasn’t supposed to be a fallible person with similar wants and fears. He was a god Black Star was supposed to fucking crush, so why did it feel like a black hole was swallowing him up instead? He wanted to hold Kid’s hand and tell him it would be alright. He wanted to feel the gentle press of Kid’s lips as his face lingered closer and closer, but nothing about Black Star felt gentle in that moment. He was on the verge of shaking apart. It was too fucking much.

He left the Gallows Mansion early that night, pacing the streets of Death City and trying to formulate a plan. The foundation of his soul felt shakier than ever, and he needed a way to stabilize his fragile wavelength. So, fuck it. He’d prove how much stronger he’d gotten. He’d prove it to himself, to Kid, to the whole fucking academy that he was indisputably the strongest. He’d leave the academy on a high, then go master the Uncanny Sword with Tsubaki.

The feeling of his head getting ground into the asphalt under Kid’s rubber sole was the final straw.

Weak.

Black Star was a man who contained multitudes, but he couldn’t take that final loss. He pulled himself from the crater in the DWMA’s courtyard and left without a word. He and Tsubaki were on a flight to Japan the very next day.

He hadn’t spoken to Kid since.

All that training, all that growing and healing he’d done in Japan, and Kid never got to see any of it. He’d meant to come back to the academy and surprise Kid with his newfound maturity and purpose. He’d apologize for the way he acted back then, and maybe, if Kid forgave him—

But that didn’t happen. Instead, Black Star hangs from the shackles in this mysterious, otherworldly realm, soundly defeated by one man and a pair of magic handcuffs.

Maybe he was weak.

“You are the great and powerful Black Star, and you will not give up.”

Black Star chants it like a mantra. Never when Gopher is around, God no, he’d never let him live it down. But when the shadows of the expansive room start creeping in, Black Star sometimes needs a reminder that he’s no quitter. That someone will come for him. He’ll get a small shock from the cuffs, who seemingly hate any time he tries to have a positive thought of any kind, but he keeps chanting it regardless.

Great and powerful. Don’t give up.

Gopher hasn’t been around much lately. Off doing minion things, or perched dutifully at Noah’s feet like the pathetic lapdog he is, maybe. It’s weird, though, not being guarded. Do they think Black Star doesn’t need a guard anymore? That he has no chance of escape?

It twists something in Black Star’s gut to think the enemy thinks he’s given up. That isn’t something he can accept. So during one of those long stretches of time that Gopher is gone, Black Star goes back to trying to free himself.

It’s slow work. He doesn’t have any tools, and the deep black shackles fit on his wrist almost to the skin. He’s tried slipping a hand out before, but the space is too narrow. Black Star focuses on the second means of escape: breaking the shackles.

He was the strongest student at the DWMA, it shouldn’t be hard. He can punch through walls and climb mountains without equipment, how difficult can it be to shatter some handcuffs?

He gathers all the mental strength he can muster, breathing in deeply, then starts pulling his wrists apart. Sweat and blood run down his face as the metal cuts into his skin. He just needs—to snap—the cuffs—apart—

Black Star cries out when electricity rips through his body.

God, every time. Every fucking time it feels like he’s making progress, the magic in the cuffs electrifies him like he’s metal rod in and open field. Black Star growls low in his throat, the frustration building like it always does. He can’t try again yet, forced to sit and stew while tremors wrack his frame.

“You are the great and powerful Black Star, and you will not give up,” his hoarse voice reminds him. It’s not as convincing as he wants it to be.

He waits for the shaking to subside, for the tingling in his spine to return to the same constant ache, then mentally readies himself for another attempt.

That’s what Black Star is doing when Justin Law suddenly appears before him

A piece of paper like a ripped-out page from a book, flicks into existence in front of Black Star, burning at the edges. Black Star stares at it curiously, watching the orange tinted border creep closer and closer to the center, then a bright flash of light like a portal opens up, and the youngest Death Scythe ever created was walking though.

Black Star can’t believe his eyes.

Finally. After who knows how long, help has arrived. Black Star will get to go home. He’s so struck he’s almost speechless from it.

That only lasts a minute before Black Star is screaming his head off.

“HEY! HEY! OVER HERE!” He wriggles his whole body, rattling his chains together as loudly as possible to get Justin’s attention.

He doesn’t care if Gopher or Noah shows up at this point. He just needs to get out.

It takes a while to get his attention. Black Star can’t fathom what he’d be looking at; the only things in this room are a table and Black Star. And the giant stained-glass window behind him. Justin’s eyes seem to scan right over Black Star, fixating on the large circular window for a long time. Black Star shakes even harder.

“JUSTIN FUCKING LAW. STOP LOOKING AT THE STUPID WINDOW AND HELP.”

Justin’s blue eyes finally flick to Black Star, his expression carefully neutral.

Black Star tries not to let his anger get the best of him. “Finally, jeez. I’m right here. You wanna get to work or what?” He shakes his arms again. “You’re a guillotine aren’t you? I’m sure you could make pretty quick work of these.”

But Justin is still looking at Black Star carefully, not saying anything.

“Helloooooo, Mr. Priest. Can you hear me? What kind of shitty rescuer are you?”

Justin smirks and taps a piece of plastic in his ears. His stupid headphones. He’s wearing them, even now.

“Don’t worry, I can read lips just fine,” he says evenly, though there’s the barest hint of amusement in his voice.

“Then GET TO WORK,” Black Star says, emotion rising within him. What the hell is this guy waiting on?

But Justin is looking behind him again, like Black Star suddenly isn’t the most important thing in this room. Then the hair on the back of his neck raises just a bit. He may be a captive, but he’s still a ninja. He senses that someone else is in the room. Multiple people, even.

He can’t imagine anyone else it could be, so he yells “Justin, RUN!” to an extremely unflappable Justin Law. He doesn’t run, but instead tracks the movement of their two extra guests as they step into view: Gopher, and worse, Noah.

“Good catch,” he says calmly, and it takes a second for Black Star to realize that Justin is talking to Noah, about him. “Taking away the Star Clan member weakens them considerably.”

“It wasn’t intentional,” Noah says seriously, still looking at Black Star like he’s scum. Black Star is still blinking, looking at the man he knows is a DWMA staff member, talking to Noah like they’re best friends.

Another person walks into view, and Black Star really doesn’t know what’s going on. Giriko, one of Arachne’s lackeys, strolls in front of him and stalks toward the table, a beer bottle hanging loosely from his fingers. He sits at one of the chairs, legs spread wide. “I don’t see the point in keeping him alive for this long, Noah. You should have killed him ages ago.”

“Noah-sama,” Gopher squeaks from a corner.

They all ignore Gopher, like they should, and impossibly, Justin goes and takes a seat next to Giriko.

“Yo, what the fuck is going on?” Black hears someone voice his exact sentiment and realizes that the question is coming from himself. “Justin, what are you doing?”

All of the men look at Black Star with different degrees of incredulity, like they’re surprised he had the audacity to speak, given his position. Black Star himself is shocked too, but that doesn’t stop him from continuing.

“You’re from the DWMA, man. You work for Lord Death,” he says desperately. “You fought with us in the battle for Brew.” He nods his head towards Giriko, who hasn’t stopped scowling. “Against him.” He swallows down the burning in his throat. He can’t say the last part. I thought you were here to save me.

Justin is nonplussed as ever. “The only god I serve is Kishin-sama.”

Black Star’s stomach fills with concrete. A person from the DWMA has finally found him but isn’t here to rescue him. And now instead of inhabiting this prison cell with one minion, he’s surrounded by three killers.

“So what are you keeping the brat for?” Giriko asks, pointing his bottle to Black Star, who can do nothing. If they harm him, he can’t fight back. If they decide to kill him, that’ll be it.

Black Star flinches instinctively when Noah looks at him.

“He’d be good bait,” Justin says evenly. “The students and teachers care for him. Use him to draw them out.”

Giriko picks at his teeth. “As if. If he’s been here since the battle at the castle and they haven’t come looking for him yet, what’s the point?” He rolls his neck in slow loops, sighing at the popping sounds it makes. “They probably think he’s dead anyway.”

Black Star does his best not to react to that. As if it hasn’t been a constant thought in the back of his mind this whole fucking time.

But Giriko keeps talking, as if to spite him. He looks directly in his eyes and smiles. “After all, it’s been months.”

Months?

That can’t be right. There’s no way he could have been gone that long, without a whisper of chance at rescue.

But he eyes Justin, the first DWMA member he’s seen this whole time, a man who has no interest in freeing him.

…Months?

No, Black Star thinks. Kid wouldn’t give up on me. He’d know I haven’t given up yet.

Noah ignores Giriko, looking to Justin. “We don’t need bait to draw out the academy’s child soldiers. They prance about in public without any prompting at all.”

Gopher jumps in excitedly. “I found some just last week! Flying through the canyons. The Soul Perception girl and her scythe.” Black Star breathes a little heavier. She and Soul must have been out looking for him, right? Hope flutters like a small bird in his ribcage.

The cuffs zap it out of him, a quick and painful zip. Black Star grits his teeth.

Gopher keeps talking, unaware of Black Star’s pain, or perhaps just not interested in it. “They didn’t even notice my presence at first. Fools. I was able to stalk them as they goofed off for ages before they noticed. I’m sick of all of them. Flying around that canyon in their merriment. Like they’re untouchable.”

Wait, Gopher found them? Goofed off? Bitterness rolls over Black Star in waves. It’s nice to know they’re able to have such a fun time together. He’s been shackled here for months and they’re goofing off—

“Silence!”

Everyone in the room snaps to attention at Noah’s commanding voice.

“What I do with my collection is my business alone,” he says darkly. He stalks up to Black Star, who can’t help but shrink away. It’s no use, he has nowhere to hide, so when Noah stops in front of him, he’s just as vulnerable as ever. “If I want to leave him here to rot, that’s my decision.”

There’s something dead in his eyes, in the way he smiles. A haunting look passes over his face as he reaches above Black Star, grabbing the chain he’s hanging from to pull Black Star closer and swing him directly into Noah’s waiting fist.

“If I wish him harm, that’s my decision.”

Black Star gurgles out a cough at the hit. Noah is making a show of hurting him, just for the amusement of his guests, and Black Star starts to reach a boiling point. After all, he’s been here for months, and no one is coming for him. Now might be his last opportunity to bite back.

Using what little strength he has, he grabs for Noah’s hand, inches above his shackled ones, and releases his Soul Force, as powerful as he can make it. He’ll cook the fuck out of both of them if that’s what it takes. He’ll make Noah regret every taking him in the first place. He’ll—

A light shock leaves his hands, sparking into Noah’s. Barely hotter than bug zapper.

Black Star’s eyes widen in shock. That was barely anything. He can’t even muster up the strength use his own wavelength?

A shadow passes over Black Star. Noah’s stony face has transformed into one of wrath.

“You dare try to harm me?”

He grabs Black Star brutally by the hand, lifting him up until his feet aren’t even touching the ground. The sharp pain in his shoulders mixed with the rawness of his wrist being gripped has him screaming.

That haunting look has returned to his eye, and without warning he’s gripping Black Star’s hand and wrist in both hands and squeezing. Black Star thought he was in agony before, but the white-hot sensation of bones cracking has him choking for breath.

He barely holds onto consciousness when Noah drops him roughly back down, his shattered hand colliding with his shackles.

Black Star pants and shakes. His throat is raw from screaming, lungs paper dry. Tears stream down his face from just the slightest movement of his hand.

Noah looks satisfied.

He turns to the rest of his guests. Black Star’s eyes focus on the floor below them, not interested in their stupid meeting any longer.

Noah’s voice is smug.

“No one is coming for him. If I want to keep him here until he’s begging to be killed, then that’s exactly what I’ll do.”

They leave him alone, after that. A guard isn’t necessary, because Black Star isn’t trying to escape.

4. two souls connect

“One more chapter and we’ll finally have Black Star back!” Patti hollers encouragingly, wrapping an arm around Tsubaki, who offers up a tense smile.

Kid notes her expression. He feels the same. Traversing through the Book of Eibon hasn’t been at all like how he expected it. When the Chupa Cabra witches (with the help of a captive Eruka the frog) transported Spartoi into the Book, Kid expected to be greeted with another castle, like Baba Yaga’s. Or, at least, a prison. A fortress strong enough to keep Black Star contained, to have apparently kept an Ancient One contained at some point in time.

Instead, he was transformed into a female.

Everyone in their party seemed to have swapped physical sexes, bodies changing to forms opposite their own. It felt like a gag, as his friends guffawed at each other’s new body parts and outfits, almost immediately forgetting their main mission in favor of laughing at each other’s bewildered expressions.

The breasts that hung heavily from Kid’s chest only lasted a few brief minutes, a minor inconvenience that he paid no real mind to, seemingly the only one focused on the mission at hand. It took Kid a while to realize that each of the Chapters was centered around one of the Seven Deadly Sins, each of the new realms designed to ensnare any intruders in their own personal demons. It was an effective way to distract them from their main goal, each chapter they entered making it harder and harder to remember that their purpose was Black Star.

It didn’t help ease Kid’s mind that he couldn’t feel Black Star’s wavelength. Even now, as the group had gotten separated, Maka and Soul getting swept away to the Envy Chapter without the rest of the group, he could still distantly feel their presence, their wavelengths glowing dimly in Kid’s mind like lanterns through a thick fog.

But he can’t feel Black Star’s wavelength at all.

Even now, with one Chapter supposedly to go, Black Star’s boisterous wavelength isn’t something Kid can feel with his Soul Perception, and it’s making him nervous.

They were so sure he was here. When Maka and Soul had fought the boy named Gopher in the canyons, she recognized the symbol on the piece of paper he had jumped into to disappear. It was the same symbol on the Book of Eibon manuscript she had stolen ages ago from the restricted section of the library. The memory boils Kid’s blood a little, to think he was so close to a solution, but the book in question was hiding in Soul and Maka’s apartment under their couch.

Through the witches’ magic, they were able to see the last people who had access to the real Book of Eibon, and both Kid and Tsubaki were able to positively identify that the mage who’d kidnapped Black Star was among them.

So, it stands to reason that Black Star must be in this Book as well, right?

So why couldn’t Kid feel him?

The worry claws at his insides as he follows behind his partners, falling into step with Tsubaki.

“Once we find him, we’ll contact Kim to retrieve us right away,” Kid says, voice low. He hoists his pack a little higher on his shoulders, filled to the brim with medical supplies. “Soul and Maka can handle themselves. They know our first priority is finding Black Star.”

It seems harsh even to his own ears. They lost Maka and Soul chapters ago and haven’t been able to contact them since. The last thing Spartoi needs is more members going missing. He should be stopping them, calling Index to make them go back. They should be doing this together.

But he thinks of Black Star’s bandages, trailing behind him like red ribbons. The desperate way he jumped between Kid and the mage’s outstretched hand, right before he disappeared.

Kid surges forward.

Black Star is his priority—their priority.

The bridge they walk on feels endless. It seems the nature of the book is that a setting will go on for as long as it requires to feel narratively appropriate, not for any logical reason. Perhaps they’ll be able to move on to the next Chapter when a decision is made?

“What do you think the book wants from us?” Tsubaki asks the group.

Kid nods approvingly, happy that she came to the same conclusion. She’s more clever than most give her credit for, given her quiet nature.

Liz arches a brow. “Doesn’t Index just show up when it wants to, to whisk us away?”

Kid itches at the thought of just waiting. Anything could be happening to Black Star at this very moment, and they were just going to stand around? What if he was hurt? What if something worse was happening to him? Did anyone else even care about Black Star? Or were they just ready to finally leave the book? The more he spirals the more he feels the distance between him and the others growing.

Kid almost doesn’t notice when the wooden plank in front of him disappears. He snaps back into focus, stumbling forward and catching himself on the other side of the gap.

“Hey! I think something is happening—”

The girls are gone.

Kid turns around. Surely he didn’t pass them just now? But they’re not there either.

In fact, when Kid turns around to face forward, the planks in the distance all begin to fall away. One by one, more and more, like dominos, dropping from their fastenings and getting closer and closer to Kid with every second.

“Liz? Patti? Tsubaki? What’s going on?” Kid cries, backing up as fast as he can. But the wooden planks are falling away faster than he can move, and without Beelzebub he has no way to fly. The final board beneath his feet falls away, and Kid feels a moment of weightlessness before plunging into the abyss below.

The falling only lasts a moment.

The same sensation from travelling to a new Chapter swallows Kid up. Like air being punched from lungs. Like paper grazing skin. And within seconds, Kid is standing in an entirely new Chapter of the Book of Eibon. He looks around curiously. They were on their way Greed, but Index wasn’t the one who guided him here. Could this be a different part of the book?

Kid looks above him, but the bridge is long gone, in favor of a vaulted ceiling, tall white columns, and an enormous circular stained-glass window that stops Kid short.

He’s never seen a window so marvelous before. The intricate design, the array of colors! The symmetry! It’s so breathtaking, Kid is completely captivated by it. He approaches it reverently, ready to bask in its symmetrical brilliance indefinitely, when a wounded moan from beneath it snaps him out of it.

There doesn’t appear to be any light here other than the rays streaming through the stained glass, meaning the figure hanging from chains before him is just a silhouette against the colorful light behind him.

But Kid would know that silhouette anywhere. It was the last thing Kid saw, in fact, before he disappeared all those months ago.

Black Star.

Kid’s heart skips a beat. The pain of not knowing Black Star’s condition for the past two months pales in comparison to seeing him now, because it’s so much worse than he imagined.

Hanging limply from a pair of heavy iron-clad shackles, Black Star looks like he’s barely clinging to life. Loose bandages swirl around his neck and legs, having fallen away ages ago, leaving his wounds exposed. His skin is adorned with cuts and bruises, one eye swollen almost completely shut. His right hand doesn’t look broken, it looks mangled, the fingers twisted at odd angles, knuckles swollen and dark.

It takes everything in him to not scream his name. Kid has no idea where Black Star’s captors may be, especially with the rules of this Book being so fickle. The last thing he wants to do is draw attention to himself.

But there doesn’t appear to be anyone else around. Black Star stands alone, bandaged feet just barely grazing the ground as he hangs there.

Kid can hardly bare it. Tossing aside caution, Kid sprints to Black Star.

“Black Star?”

He doesn’t stir. Hanging there limply in the multi-colored light, the shadows distorting his face, he looks like a corpse. A captive long-forgotten, left to rot in his confines.

It’s at that moment Kid finally notices what feels so wrong. Black Star’s soul. He still can’t feel it.

Panic ignites in Kid’s chest, heart beating in triple time. He can’t be, he can’t be—

No, Kid reminds himself as he skids to a halt at Black Star’s side. He heard a noise earlier. The only person in this room is Black Star.

That doesn’t stop Kid’s hand from trembling as he reaches towards him. He’s not even sure where he can touch him without hurting him more. Kid settles for gently tipping Black Star’s chin upwards, bringing his face into the light.

Kid’s eyes flutter close for a moment. His skin is still warm.

Gathering up his nerves, Kid cradles Black Star’s head gently.

“Black Star, can you hear me?”

It takes a while, far too long if Kid has anything to say about it, but Black Star cracks open his one good eye, blinking it a few times before his vision comes into focus.

“Kid?”

His heart pounds loudly in his chest in relief. “Yes,” he breathes, “Black Star, it’s me. We’re here to rescue you.”

“Here,” Kid says, digging through the pack all the Spartoi members were required to bring with them on the mission. It’s a survival pack, filled with a first aid kit, food, and other essentials that could keep them alive depending on how long they were going to be inside the Book. Kid has used none of his supplies, intent on saving it all for the person who really needed them.

Kid pulls out a roll of bandages and some pain medication. He knocks a couple pills into his palm. Then he looks to Black Star’s broken frame and tips out a few more.

“Don’t bother,” Black Star says. His voice is rough. Kid can’t tell if it’s from lack of use or from using it too much. He tries not think about it too hard. Black Star clears his throat. “Wounds don’t really heal here, so there’s no point.”

Maybe it’s the roughness of his voice, but something about the way he’s speaking sounds so foreign to Kid, it’s almost like he’s talking to another person altogether. He eyes Black Star’s injuries again. If what Black Star is saying is true, it means that the injuries currently dripping blood into a small pool beneath him might not even be current. Some of these could have been from his fight with Mifune.

It does something horrible to his heart, to think that Black Star has been in pain for that long. He looks at the supplies before him. The gauze and bandages won’t do much good right now, but he can still try to help the pain subside.

“I don’t care,” Kid says, swallowing the lump in his throat. He brings the palm of pills to Black Star’s mouth, cupping his hand right in front of him until Black Star relents. He accepts the pills and allows Kid to hold a water bottle to his lips to flush them down. Black Star drinks greedily. Kid can’t help but wonder about the last time Black Star had something to drink.

“Now,” Kid says, looking around the large, bare room. Or, at least, he assumes it’s large. The Book only shows you what you need to see, so the farther he looks in the distance, the more the ink fades to cross-hatching nothingness. “Where are the people that took you?”

“Dunno,” Black Star says, eyes on the floor. He’s barely looked at Kid the whole time he’s been here, now that Kid thinks about it. “They stopped coming.”

Maybe that’s a good thing. It means Kid might have more time to liberate Black Star from his shackles. Maybe he can get him out before his captors even know Kid was here.

But they way Black Star said it…

How long has he been alone?

Kid shakes his head.

“It doesn’t matter. You’ll be out of here quickly enough,” Kid says, though he’s not sure who he’s trying to convince: himself or Black Star.

But if Kid thought that the hard part was finding Black Star, he neglected to think about how difficult freeing him would be. Why didn’t it occur to him that the force that was keeping Black Star imprisoned would have to be stronger than Black Star himself?

He eyes the cuffs skeptically. There has to be something about them that’s keeping Black Star detained.

He reaches for one of the cuffs to get a better look. Black Star flinches violently. “Don’t—"

The second Kid’s fingers graze the iron shackles a shock runs through his whole body, frying all his nerves.

Kid cries out before he can stop himself, wrenching his hand away and panting.

“What the hell was that?” Kid asks.

Black Star is panting just as hard. Kid realizes through the haze of pain that he didn’t just shock himself.

“Yeah, those do that. Magic or s’mthin’, I dunno,” Black Star says around gritted teeth.

“I’m sorry,” Kid says quickly, sick with the thought of putting Black Star through more pain. “I won’t do it again.”

His skin tingles from the pain, even after the shock itself has ended. There’s something almost familiar about it, somehow, but Kid can’t quite place it. He can’t focus too long on it, though. He has to find a different way to help Black Star without touching the cuffs.

He looks around the parts of the room he can see. “Is there a key, perhaps?”

“I’ve never seen one if there was,” Black Star says dejectedly, still looking down.

“Maybe if I just look around—”

“Kid,” Black Star says emphatically. It’s the most passion he’s put in his voice the whole time Kid’s been here.

Kid freezes. When Black Star’s face rises to look at his, Kid sees an unrecognizable expression on his face.

“There’s no fucking key, okay?” Black Star says. “There’s no key or magic password or hidden tool that will open these up. You can’t get them off. I’m stuck here.”

Kid blinks.

Black Star curls his lip at Kid’s bewildered expression. “You shouldn’t have come. If Noah finds you, he’ll kill you. Or worse, he’ll lock you up in one of these,” he wriggles a bit, so the shackles binding his wrists jangle together loudly. He shouldn’t have bothered with the demonstration; it just causes his face to twist up in pain. “And then you’ll be stuck here too. Just go.”

Something curdles in Kid’s gut. That’s what’s so unfamiliar here.

Black Star has given up.

“I’m not leaving you here, Black Star,” Kid says sternly, hoping to cover up any other unsavory emotions bubbling up. “I came here to retrieve you and that’s what I intend to do.” Retrieve. That makes it sound so clinical. Rescue. Repent? The semantics don’t matter.

“So you say,” Black Star mutters.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Black Star doesn’t respond. “Black Star?”

Black Star shifts a little, causing his mangled hand to twitch a tiny bit. His whole face crumbles in pain. Kid reaches out a hand—to do what, he’s not sure. To help, to soothe, to make things better.

But Black Star flinches. Kid’s hand stops.

He’s been doing his best to force his thoughts away from what Black Star’s been through while he’s been trapped here. To avoid thinking about the way those people hurt him. The physical injuries are plain to see, but it’s clear his wounds are deeper than that. Kid can’t stand it any longer.

“I’m sorry.”

Black Star opens his eyes. “What?”

He can’t hold it back anymore. The guilt that’s been clawing at his chest for the entire time Black Star has been gone is now threatening to swallow him whole. He looks at Black Star’s broken body miserably. Human bodies are so fragile.

“It should have been me.”

It’s the thing he’s been wanting to say this whole time. Tsubaki knew it. Kid knew it. Black Star surely knew it. Those cuffs were made for him. Black Star is feeling this hopeless because of him.

“What the hell are you talking about?” Black Star asks, all the bitterness gone from his voice, replaced by pure confusion.

“Don’t play dumb,” Kid says. Now he sounds like the bitter one. Except his voice is sounding thick, his throat tightening with emotion. “You’re not who they meant to capture.”

“So?”

“So, this is all my fault!”

“Wait, this?” Black Star looks down at himself, indirectly pointing out his injuries. “Or this?” He wriggles his shoulders, jangling the heavy chains attached to his cuffs.

Kid can hardly bear to look at it. “Either. Both. All of it.”

“You’re so stupid,” Black Star says. Somehow, it’s this statement that makes him sound the most like himself. Or, himself before.

But his eye. His hand. The cuts ribboning his arms and torso. He’s never looked more human to Kid. More fragile.

“You can’t beat yourself up about things you literally didn’t do to me, idiot.” Black Star says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “If you want to apologize for curb stomping me in the academy courtyard, I’ll accept that.”

That’s so unexpected, Kid finds himself actually snorting. He shouldn’t, he genuinely needs to apologize for that, but somehow he finds his lips curling up instead.

“There,” Black Star says. “Got you smiling. No one should be frowning when looking at the great Black Star.”

It does make Kid feel marginally better. Which is ultimately still frustrating, that the boy dangling in the center of the room in chains is the one doing the comforting. Some rescuer Kid is.

Because, despite everything, Kid still seeks Black Star for comfort. He wants to reach out to him, to feel his warmth and be reminded of those feelings, but refrains. He still remembers that flinch.

He sobers himself. “We’re wasting time. I need to get you out of here.”

It sobers Black Star too. Kid doesn’t even think he realizes it, but every mention of escape has him shrinking into himself.

“Well, like I said. There’s no key,” Black Star says, trying to retain the same cadence to his voice as before, and failing.

Kid steps into Black Star’s space carefully. Black Star’s eyes meet his nervously. “I won’t touch them, I promise.”

He circles Black Star slowly, looking at the cuffs. There’s no keyhole. There doesn’t even appear to be a hinge or a seam. The cuffs circle Black Star’s brutal-looking wrists completely, one continuous iron circle. It must be the magic in them, like Black Star said. Kid could try to wrench them apart, but he doesn’t think he can do that without hurting Black Star, or without causing that horrible shocking. He twists the rings on his fingers idly as he wracks his brain for a solution, and jumps back suddenly when a visible bolt of electricity zips from the cuffs, shaking Black Star.

“Fuck,” Black Star cries out.

Kid panics. “I swear, I didn’t touch—”

“I know you didn’t,” Black Star rasps. He huffs out a few shallow breaths. “That’s not what causes it, usually.”

Kid pauses. “It isn’t?”

“I don’t know what causes the shocks. They just kind of happen at random.”

Kid turns this over in his head. That sort of magic doesn’t sound like Noah’s style. Based on how battered Black Star is, Kid assumed the man was seriously sadistic. Programming the shackles to zap at random doesn’t seem cruel enough. Not from a person who would who kept Black Star strung up here for months, purely to test them.

“Can you think of any of the times went off, specifically?”

Black Star looks like he wants to reply with something snarky, but he sees the expression on Kid’s face and stops himself. Kid might be on to something.

Black Star takes a moment to really think.

“When I was mad, mostly.” Black Star says, discovering a pattern. “When Gopher would say something to piss me off, I’d get zapped.”

“Maybe that means—”

“Well, no. That wasn’t the only time. Sometimes when I was by myself, I’d get shocked too. When I was—"Black Star stops short, like he doesn’t want to say it. There’s something about how he looks right now. A vulnerability that reminds Kid of just how young Black Star is. “When I’d be trying to escape. They’d shock me whenever things started looking up.”

Kid wishes he could feel Black Star’s wavelength right now. It would help him decipher what the pinched-up expression on Black Star’s face could mean. Shame, maybe? It’s been so long since he’s been able to decode Black Star. Has he forgotten how?

Wait, Kid thinks. He freezes so suddenly even Black Star flinches a bit from it.

“Black Star,” he says seriously. “What were you thinking just now, when the cuffs electrocuted you?”

Black Star’s eyebrows raise. Is he nervous? Kid realizes he can’t tell. Black Star is standing right in front of him, alive as can be, but he still can’t sense his wavelength.

“Nothing,” Black Star says, but it comes out so defensively, Kid is positive he’s lying.

Kid doesn’t care what the reasoning was, not really. He’s caught up in the thrill of almost having an answer. “Shift your wrists for me, please? I need to be able to see the inside of the shackles.”

Black Star grumbles something unintelligible. Kid only hears something that sounds like “no damn sense…” But he pulls his wrists apart as best has he can manage, so the insides of his wrists aren’t flush with the metal of the cuffs. Kid looks at them closely, watching little shimmers of colorful light bounce off the smooth inner edge.

“Black Star, it’s a mirror.”

“Huh?”

“The magic from the cuffs. It doesn’t send of off a signal to shock you at random intervals, it’s reflecting your wavelength.” Kid is so pleased with this discovery, he can hardly sit still. “That’s why I can’t feel you with my Soul Perception.”

Black Star looks completely lost.

“Look,” Kid says, trying to keep his voice even. “You know how when a witch uses Soul Protect, it prevents her from projecting her magical wavelength out past her body?” Black Star nods. Thank God some of their studying stuck. “The cuffs work the same way. Every time your soul wavelength spikes, the cuffs reflect it back at you in the form of electricity. It’s a mirror.”

Understanding begins to bloom on Black Star’s face. He looks up at the offending restraints, straining his neck backwards to stare at them.

“So you’re telling me, I’ve been holding myself captive this hold time? I’m hurting me?”

Kid nods emphatically, so pleased with himself for solving the mystery that he doesn’t immediately notice that Black Star isn’t sharing in his excitement.

Black Star lets out a single, hollow laugh.

Kid’s happiness simmers down. “Black Star?”

But Black Star just shakes himself a little. “No, that makes sense.” He clears his throat. “So how does that help me get out? I can’t exactly turn off my soul wavelength.”

Another idea pops into Kid’s mind. “We don’t have to turn it off, per se. We just have to neutralize it.” He steps closer to Black Star, craning his neck to look at the chains. “You know how Professor Stein would fight? How he’d appraise someone’s wavelength and adjust his so it was the opposite of his opponent’s?” He meets Black Star’s eyes. “If we use that method, we could cancel out your wavelength so it doesn’t hurt you. Then all we’d have to do is shatter the cuffs.”

“Sounds like a good idea to me,” Black Star says, but something about his expression isn’t right. Just moments ago, Black Star told Kid the electricity would spike whenever he felt close to an escape, but right now Black Star’s wavelength doesn’t appear to be giving the cuffs any juice.

“What’s wrong?” Kid asks.

Black Star shakes his head sullenly and tries to perk up. “Not important. Let’s just spring me, okay? I’m sick of hanging here.”

Kid wants to press him, but Black Star is right. He shouldn’t force Black Star to hang here in pain longer than necessary. They’ll have time to talk after all this is over.

He takes another half-step towards Black Star, minimizing the space between them. Nervousness possesses him suddenly.

“This would be easier with our weapon partners here,” Kid says quietly. Weapons were conduits for meisters’ souls, after all. Resonating with Black Star without Tsubaki or the Thompsons here might be tricky. Doubt creeps in even more. What if he hurts Black Star? “I’ve never done this technique before. It might not be as easy as Stein makes it look—”

“Kid,” Black Star interrupts. He meets Kid’s eyes. “You’re good. If anyone can do this, it’s you.”

Kid tries not to look taken aback but such Black Star’s insistent vote of confidence.

He clears his throat. “Okay. I’m going to need you to activate the cuffs. I need a bit your wavelength to resonate with.”

Black Star nods gravely.

Kid slips out of his jacket, then holds it in front of them and rips off one of the sleeves. He holds it in front of Black Star’s face. “Here, this might help.”

Black Star understands easily, opening his mouth and biting down on the sleeve.

Kid breathes out slowly. Black Star mirrors him, exhaling loudly through his nose.

Kid hovers close to Black Star once more. “Okay,” he says gently. “Whenever you’re ready.”

It takes Black Star a few more beats, closing his eyes. It takes incredibly courage, Kid thinks, to actively hurt yourself like this. He gives Black Star as long as he needs.

At last, Black Star opens his eyes, determination blazing behind them. Then, he activates his Soul Force.

The electricity ripples through him. Kid closes his eyes, blocking out Black Star’s pained sounds as he screams through gritted teeth, and zeroes in on his wavelength.

The symmetry of this project would have pleased him if this could have involved anything else but hurting Black Star intentionally. Changing his soul wavelength to reflect Black Star’s is the ultimate act of symmetry. He changes the shape of his soul like crafting a key to a lock. For every spike, Kid becomes a valley. For every over-powered attack in Black Star’s soul, Kid is a graceful block. For every ounce of boundless confidence, Kid projects subtle humility. For every loud, joyous laugh, Kid is restraint.

Kid opens his eyes and steps back.

Black Star stops shocking himself, spitting out the jacket sleeve and panting heavily.

“Did it—” his voice breaks. He swallows and starts over. “Did it work?”

It would have. Kid could tell. If he had continued picking apart Black Star’s soul and molding his own soul to be equal and opposite, he’d have neutralized Black Star’s wavelength.

But he can’t do it.

“No.”

Black Star’s expression is shattered. “No?”

Kid shakes his head. “I can’t do this.”

Black Star starts to tremble, hard. “What do you mean? I’m gonna be stuck here? I thought it was working!” His eyes blaze with panic. “You’re Death the Kid, you can do anything. You can’t tell me you can’t do it. I can’t—” His breath hitches high.

Kid’s heart is breaking. He reaches forward, damning the cuffs, damning Noah, damning Black Star himself for making Black Star feel this way. His hands cup Black Star’s face, before he can fall deeper into a spiral.

“Black Star, we will get you out of here,” he assures steadily. “But it won’t be me freeing you.”

Black Star falters. “You--?”

“You’re going to do it.”

Kid can’t free Black Star this way. Doing so would mean that the key to freeing Black Star from himself is to be everything he’s not. A wavelength that’s mild-mannered. Agreeable. Quiet. Small.

During his captivity, Black Star had been conditioned to believe that every trait that was fundamentally him would get him hurt. Kid can’t stand to think that that’s the key to his freedom as well.

“Kid, I can’t. I—I’m too—”

“Weak?”

Black Star’s mouth snaps shut. He doesn’t answer.

That’s what Kid was afraid of. Kid damns himself most of all.

“Black Star, you could not be further from weak.”

But he can tell that Black Star doesn’t believe him. After months of being alone, stewing on the most hurtful thing Kid has ever said to him, while unable to free himself from his captivity, it’s no wonder Black Star believes it wholeheartedly.

Kid can’t stand it.

“You wanna know the reason why you’re here right now?” Kid says, almost angrily.

Black Star looks taken aback by Kid’s sudden change in attitude.

“You’re here because you made the choice to jump between me and someone who could have killed me with one touch. With no idea what the outcome would be, you sacrificed yourself. There’s nothing weak about that.”

“You’re spinning it to be better than it was,” Black Star insists.

“No. I’m not,” Kid says. “Because that’s how you always are. Fighting for the sake of others. Protecting people.” He swallows. “Protecting me.”

“Kid—”

“You’ve been stuck here this long because your heart is too big, Black Star. Your soul is too powerful to be contained. They weren’t preying on your weakness when they put these shackles on you.” He squeezes Black Star’s face, putting everything he has into the next statement so Black Star will fucking understand. “They were using your strength against you.”

Black Star opens his mouth, but no sound comes out. The wounded expression he’s been wearing has transformed into bewilderment. Kid hopes that means he’s coming around.

“So, no, I will not be neutralizing your wavelength. The great and powerful Black Star that I know would never let himself be dimmed like that,” he says with conviction.

Black Star finds his voice, quiet though it may be. “I am a big star, after all.”

Kid’s soul warms at the sound of it.

He beams back at Black Star.

“The biggest.”

It’s different this time. They both know it will hurt, but instead of fear, both Kid and Black Star are looking at each other with certainty.

Kid’s places a hand on Black Star’s chest, warm and solid, right over his heart.

“You don’t have to do this, you know,” Black Star assures once more, though Kid knows it’s only a formality. “You don’t have to feel it, too.”

Kid rolls his eyes. “Now who’s being stupid?”

The edges of Black Star’s mouth curl up, just a little.

Kid breathes in deeply, centering himself. “Whenever you’re ready.”

Black Star nods. It takes less time than before, for Black Star to rev up his soul wavelength. The electric current rushes through both of them now, and it hits Kid again just how awful these past few months must have been for Black Star. Electricity rips up and down Kid’s spine, but he grits his teeth and focuses on his job.

His soul grabs onto Black Star’s wavelength, same as before, but this time Kid doesn’t work on countering it, he focuses on supporting it.

His eyes are closed, but Kid can tell without looking how hard Black Star is concentrating, because he can feel it. Despite their lack of weapon partners, Kid and Black Star’s connection remains steady and strong. He can feel how hard Black Star is pushing his wavelength outwards, harder than he’s tried to the entire time he’s been trapped here.

Kid grits his teeth through the hot stabs of pain and simply believes. Believes in Black Star, who’s never given up on anything in his life. The Black Star who’s all obnoxious laughs and cocky grins. The Black Star who shouts to the whole world that he’s the best, and then strives every moment of every day to prove it.

Every time the electricity lets up, the pain starts to fade, Kid’s soul pushes up against Black Star’s insistently, urgently reminding him that giving up is not his nature, and he won’t let it start now.

“C’mon,” Kid says, through gritted teeth. He leans forward, knocking his forehead into Black Star’s. “You can do this. If anyone can, it’s you.”

The pain gets worse, fire blazing all of Kid’s cells. One of them is shaking, or maybe both of them are, and Black Star lets out a roar—

Come on, Black Star. Kid prays. He’s so close. Come on come on come on—

The shaking gets stronger, and Kid knows now that it’s not coming from him. He cracks open one eye, peering above them, where Black Star’s wrists are straining and straining—

Kid shoots all the encouragement he can through his wavelength, hoping it reaches him, hoping he knows—

“YAHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!”

Quick as a heart attack, the shackles snap, the heavy metal separating and crashing to the ground.

Black Star and Kid come crashing down too. Kid can hardly think through the pain, but instinctually his arms wrap around Black Star and twists, so Kid absorbs most of the impact as they land on the checkered tile in a heap.

Neither of them can speak right away. Black Star lays on Kid’s chest, breathing heavily. They’re both probably fried to hell, but Kid can’t even focus on that. His whole body feels lighter than air. He’s never been so happy to hear one of Black Star’s obnoxious “yahoo”s before.

He sits up after a while, knowing full well that Black Star is in no condition to be supporting himself right now. Thankfully, Kid is always here to help with that.

He props himself up on his elbows, looking down at the length of his body, where Black Star is still covering most of him. Through all the blood and bruises—and looking more than a little fried around the edges—Black Star is smiling brilliantly.

And his wavelength. Kid can finally sense it again. He didn’t know he could miss the feeling of someone’s soul as much as this. He never wants to part from it again.

When Black Star starts to laugh, Kid can’t help but laugh with him.

“We did it,” Black Star says giddily.

Kid shakes his head. “You did it. I knew you could.”

Black Star shuffles a bit, struggling to pull himself up into a sitting position. He tries to move his arms and just ends up wincing. Kid helps, sitting up the rest of the way and pulling Black Star up with him.

Black Star leans on Kid heavily. Kid bares the weight of him easily; he’ll never do anything to push him away again.

“Kid?” Black Star asks.

Kid turns to look at him. “Hm?”

And Black Star kisses him.

It’s short and sweet, over before Kid can even respond, but when Black Star pulls away, Kid’s mouth remembers the warmth of it.

“Thank you,” he says simply.

Kid blinks owlishly. He can feel it. He wants to revel in it, he really does, but he needs to know. “Was that—is that just a thank you kiss?” He feels stupid to even ask, but he can’t misinterpret this again. “Or was it…?”

It’s not encouraging that Black Star has to think about it for a moment.

“That can be a thank you kiss, sure,” Black Star says thoughtfully.

Kid tries not to deflate. He’s so busy schooling his expression he isn’t prepared for when Black Star ducks in and brushes his lips to Kid’s again. He leans back to look Kid in the eyes. “And that was an ‘I’m sorry’ kiss.”

When he leans in a third time, Kid is ready for it. He captures Black Star’s mouth with his, making sure he kisses back with equal fervor.

Black Star pulls back, looking dazed and happy.

“And that one is just because I wanted to,” Black Star says contently.

Kid’s heart is a bird, soaring through blue skies.

Part of him never wants to leave this moment. Sitting in this magic prison, his pantleg soaked through from the puddle of blood they’re sitting in, with Black Star warm in his arms, kissing him just because he wants to. They’ll leave soon, and find help, and finally get out of this stupid Book once and for all. But for a moment Kid wants just this.

He twists the ring on his right index finger, then the one on his left. Black Star watches the action, his soul overflowing with affection.

“What?” Kid asks.

“I love it, when you do that,” he says like it’s the most natural thing in the world. “You always make sure to twist both.”

It makes Kid flush, to think about someone would be paying attention to the little things he does like that. Though, he did just spend the last couple minutes beaming into Black Star’s soul all the little things he loves about him. Maybe love goes both ways like that.

Symmetrical, Kid thinks.

He doesn’t say it though. He doesn’t need to.

#chibiverb 2024 #reverb 2024 #death the kid #black star #deathstar #kidstar #soul eater #soul eater manga #my writing #se fic

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nolita-fairytale · 2 years

Text

still into you | carmen 'carmy' berzatto x fem!reader | chapter four: sunday

summary: after returning home from new york, carmy has a surprise & a very important question for you.

warnings: swearing, no use of y/n, she/her pronouns, drinking & smoking, suggestive language.

word count: 4.3k

listen to: sympathy - the goo goo dolls | still into you (cover) - julia sheer | let's get married - bleachers | (playlist here)

a/n: this chapter has me screaming internally and externally. i'm not well. now who's ready for some early carmy x reader angst?! thank you to all who reblogged, commented, liked. i will keep writing and annoying everyone w my obsession for this man.

read: chapter three

Sunday

It’s early-Sunday morning by the time you arrive at JFK. You, Sydney, Marcus, and Carmy wait in the hellishly long Starbucks line because it’s the only fuckin’ thing available at the airport this morning.

Fuckin’ monopolies, you think to yourself, begrudgingly.

After ordering all at once, the four of you wait for your coffees. Your order isn’t the most unique – just a cafe au lait with oat milk, no sugar. The hard at work barista quickly makes their way through all four coffee orders, glad that they’re simple. As the order’s up, you watch the barista add the four cups – three hot, one iced – to the pick up station.

“Christ, I need this,” Sydney grumbles, her head throbbing from a few too many drinks the night before.

She’s exhausted from the weekend and knows she stayed out a little too late last night. This morning’s wake up call for the airport was less than pleasant, and she’s just glad that she can sleep on the plane.

“Someone’s hungover,” you chide playfully.

“Shut up,” she shoots back, earning a laugh from you.

You look down at your coffee cup, immediately noticing that the name on the coffee cup is not yours.

“Oh shit. I think I took the wrong coffee by accident,” you say, your face twisting a confused look.

Carmy’s eager to rush to your side, taking the coffee from you, “Huh. Looks like you got switched up with… some guy named Sam?”

He takes your cup of coffee, walking back over to the pick up station. There’s a man picking up a coffee cup with your name written on it in bold letters. Carmy chuckles realizing that you have almost the exact same order as this ‘Sam’ guy.

“Excuse me. I think my fiance accidentally took your coffee. Are you Sam?” Carmy asks, holding out the coffee cup to the stranger.

“Oh! I wondered why my extra double shot of espresso was missing from the-,” he starts, checking the label. “Yeah, this is it. Thanks for lookin’ out!”

Carmy gives the man a half smile, before jumping at the sound of Sydney’s voice, pitched louder and higher than normal.

“Carmen Berzatto, something you want to share with the class? Did you just say FIANCE!?” Sydney practically shrieks, garnering the attention of the long Starbucks line adjacent to where you stand.

“No fucking way!” Marcus exclaims, his voice booming as he grabs your left hand. “You guys are engaged?! Since when!!”

The four of you look around, noticing that your little outburst has earned an assortment of reactions from the various people in line. You’re blushing and Carmy’s face has turned a shade of pink that seems to spread all the way underneath the neckline of his white t-shirt. Suddenly, he feels overwhelmingly shy, as he focuses on not dropping either of your coffee cups.

“I’m so sorry. We did not mean to disturb or alarm-. You know… what you guys got goin’ on this morning,” Sydney apologizes, her eyes scanning the coffee line.

“But our best friends literally just got engaged!”

A few people in line are clapping, a few others turn to each other, whispering excitedly, while a few ‘congratulations’ are uttered in the direction of you and Carmy.

“Fiance, huh?” you ask, under your breath.

“Tryin’ it out,” he answers with a shrug.

You can tell it brings him more satisfaction than he’ll ever admit – getting to call you his fiance – and Carmy can’t wait to be out of the spotlight as he quickly ushers you, Syd, and Marcus away from the airport Starbucks. As you head towards your gate, Syd and Marcus continue the berating for not telling them sooner.

“So you guys were just gonna get engaged all privately and shit and not tell us?” Marcus teases. “Shit, man. That’s fucked up.”

“It just happened last night,” you defend yourself, before shooting Carmy a look. “And I didn’t know we were telling anyone yet.”

The blush that runs across his cheeks turns a shade darker, and you can tell that he’s completely and utterly embarrassed by all of this attention.

“But where’s the ring? I thought you-?!” Sydney exclaims, earning a strong glare from Carmy that says ‘stop talking right now.’

“This is why we didn’t say anything,” he grumbles, cutting her off so that she can’t say anymore. As Sydney realizes she’s almost spoiled the surprise, she’s quick to course correct by laughing it off.

“Ha! Yes, right, that’s uh-. Who needs a ring anyways?” she pivots, earning a laugh from you in response to her rather strange behavior.

“The ring’s… a secondhand thought at this point,” you placate them, making sure your casual tone communicates your lack of expectation.

Even though you feel like both Carmy and Sydney are being weird right now, you move right past it. You’ve never been one to need something physical to understand how much Carmy loves you. With your coffee in one hand, and Carmy’s hand in the other, you give him a reassuring squeeze.

Ring or no ring, you were going to marry the love of your life.

By the time you make it home, you’re exhausted and so grateful that you had the foresight to take tomorrow off. You knew you’d wanted an extra day to prepare for the week ahead and a day to spend with Carmy on his day off.

Carmy, your fiance.

You get butterflies just thinking about it.

After a long weekend of cooking, exploring – not to mention casually getting engaged – you’re ready to do fuckall for a day and a half before your work week starts. You figure out what you can push to tomorrow: grocery shopping, a few chores here and there. You find yourself curled up on the couch with Aioli, who seems like she’s genuinely missed you as she cuddles up to you. She bumps her soft head against your shoulder, before curling up into the sweetest little croissant next to you on the couch.

You flip through your phone, scrolling through some social media app as you hear a chaotic rustling sound coming from your bedroom. Seconds later, Carmy comes bursting back into the living room, phone in hand. He looks worried, prompting you to ask:

“Everything alright?”

“Ffffffffuck!” he exclaims, frustratedly. “Just got a text from Fak. Emergency at the restaurant, babe.”

“Shit,” you swear.

“I gotta take care of this,” he admits with a huff.

“Right now?” you ask, unable to hide your disappointment that after fifteen minutes of being home, he’s already rushing back to work.

He shoots you a remorseful look before saying, “Yeah.”

“Can’t leave for the fuckin’ weekend without something going to shit,” he mutters under his breath.

He knows he’s laying it on thick.

“Okay,” you resign yourself.

“Will you be home for dinner?”

“Think so,” he says, almost as a consolation. “I’ll shoot you a text when I work this shit out.”

You nod in understanding.

“I don’t have the energy to go to the store today. Thought I’d pick something up from the Thai place across the street we like,” you suggest.

“Sure,” he nods in agreement, urgently.

You know he’s in a hurry, noticing as his eyes flicker from you to the door, then back to his phone.

“Okay, last thing: I uh-, before you go,” you begin.

You watch as Carmy’s face softens. He knows how much you were looking forward to spending the afternoon with him. He only feels a little bad about the fact that he’s totally pulling one over on you.

“I’m gonna meet up with Natalie for a walk later. Are you… cool if I tell her?” you ask, checking in.

He waits a beat before nodding, “Uh. Yeah. She’ll probably kill me if we don’t.”

“Right, and, our friends kind of told an entire Starbucks line at an airport so…” you reply playfully.

He gives you a half smile and you can see he’s preoccupied with whatever emergency is happening at the restaurant.

“Okay, that’s all I have. Love you, Bear,” you say, letting him know he can go.

“Love you,” he replies, before leaving the softest goodbye kiss on your lips.

And he’s off, hurrying out of your apartment like a bat out of hell.

Only there’s no emergency at the restaurant.

He just needed an excuse to get out of the house and get the ring. Your ring. He’s been blowing Richie’s phone up all day, every chance he had. Every moment he thought you weren’t looking, he’d send a string of texts to Richie: asking him where he’d be, if he could grab it at home, bring it to the restaurant.

Carmy walks briskly towards The Bear. He wonders if his quick pace is a symptom of his nerves. Last night’s conversation had been so casual, and it’s not like you were going to change your mind. But there was something about doing it again – doing this properly – that made him feel antsy.

When he arrives at The Bear, he enters through the back of the restaurant, marching right into the kitchen. He knows that the staff on shift should be prepping for dinner service, ready to reopen for dinner within the hour.

“What’s goin’ on, Carmy? Thought you wouldn’t be in till Tuesday,” Angel says as soon as he sees Carmy.

“No, yeah, we just got back,” Carmy says back, sending Angel a half smile as a greeting. “Just uh, pickin’ up something from Richie.”

“He left for a few earlier, but… think he’s back? Think he’s out there,” Angel nods towards the front of house, before returning to what he was doing previously.

Carmy’s eyes scan the back of house before calling out, “Yo, cousin!”

Moments later, the taller, pure pain-in-the-ass of a man’s bursting through the double doors that lead to the dining area.

“There he is! The man that’s been blowin’ up my phone all day!” Richie shouts back, making his way into the kitchen. “Thought I’d have to get a restraining order, ya fuckin’ lizard.”

“Do you have it or what?” Carmy snaps, getting right to the point.

“Hello to you too, Carmen,” Richie replies.

Carmy rolls his eyes as Richie glares at him.

Richie’s face falls with a sigh. He’s not going to give his cousin a hard time – not today.

“Yeah, ‘course I do,” Richie says, pulling the small box he’s been holding onto all weekend out of his pocket.

“Jeff! How was New York, baby?” Tina asks, as she approaches the both of them. Her eyes widen as soon as she sees what Richie’s holding.

“Oh shit.”

“Right?” Richie exclaims, with a rousing laugh. “Carmen’s finally lockin’ it down, T! Just like ya told him.”

“Watcha guys lookin’ at? Hey! Welcome back, Bear!” Fak greets, interrupting the conversation by joining in.

“This son of a bitch is about to be the luckiest man alive. Can’t believe the broad hasn’t left your ass yet,” Richie says, encouraging Carmen in the only way he knows how to.

“Ooh let me see,” Fak says, reaching out to grab the ring box.

Fak opens the box, seeing the shiny engagement ring, his eyes widening as soon as he realizes what’s going on.

“Wow, Bear. You think she’ll say yes?” Fak asks, excitedly, as he hands the box back to Carmy.

Tina glares at him while Richie shouts something along the lines of, “You really wanna put that in his fuckin’ head, you fuckin’ stroke?”

“First of all, I’m not a fuckin’ stroke. And second of all-!” Fak shrugs.

“Uh, first of all. You are. And second of all, of course she’s gonna say yes you fuckin’ waste of space,” Richie interjects, protectively shutting any notion that you’d say ‘no’ down.

“Very nice, Jeff,” Tina compliments, admiring the ring. She exchanges glances with Carmy. “Very nice. I think she’s really gonna like that.”

Carmy smiles at the sound of Tina’s approval. As much as he’d like to take credit for picking out a beautiful engagement ring all by himself, he’d asked Sugar to go with him a few weeks ago. She’d been surprised he asked in the first place, but he’d wanted to get it right, and knew he’d want a second opinion. It wasn’t till Sydney caught wind of his plans that she insisted she join in, adding a third opinion to the mix.

Surprisingly, it hadn’t been a ‘too many cooks in the kitchen’ scenario – both his sister and his work-wife acting as his biggest cheerleaders.

“Alright you fuckin’ replicants. Let’s get back to work,” Richie orders, shooing Tina and, especially Fak, away.

He makes sure no one else is listening before he leans in, patting Carmy on the back a few times while he says:

“You got yourself a good thing. Proud of you..”

“Thank you, cuz,” Carmy replies, with a shake of his head. “And thanks. For holding onto this for me.

Richie starts to back away, pointing a finger at Carmy, “Don’t fuck it up.”

Carmy shakes his head.

He’s really going to try not to.

While Carmy makes a quick trip to the grocery store before heading home to set up his surprise for you, you’re across town with Natalie. Not a bad alternative, you think to yourself. You’ve picked up a coffee for you, and a matcha latte for her, as the two of you wander alongside the River Walk.

“I’m dying for a cup of coffee,” she whines, dissatisfied with the grassy green liquid in her cup. “This whole tea thing really isn't doing it for me and I can’t decide if I like or hate matcha so I just keep drinking them to see.”

“Yeah I-, I do not envy you. While I do really enjoy matcha, no amount of matcha lattes will ever hit like coffee,” you commiserate with your soon-to-be sister in law. “How’ve you been feeling?”

“Like garbage,” she exhales an exasperated sigh, woefully. “Don’t get me wrong. Pete and I have been trying to get pregnant for a while now, and I’m so happy…!”

“But I’m also exhausted and my boobs feel huge,” Sugar continues, and you can hear how tired she is in her voice. “The whole first trimester, I don’t think I slept through the night and I spent every single morning just emptying any contents of my stomach into the toilet. My clothes are starting to fit differently which is… well, it is what it is… and on top of it all, I’m seriously craving the strangest things.”

You chuckle, “Sounds like a nightmare.”

“Yeah it’s… it’s super weird. But enough about me and my swollen boobs…” she agrees. “How was New York? I saw some of the pictures on your instagram… it looks like you guys had a great time!”

It’s the perfect segway for you to tell her the news, so you take a sip of your coffee, suddenly feeling a little nervous and also excited to tell her.

“Yeah, so uh, that’s actually what I wanted to talk to you about,” you start, some of the nerves trickling into the way your voice sounds.

“Oh god. What’d he do?” Sugar asks back, instantly.

You laugh, quick to reassure her, “No, it’s not like that! New York was… really great.”

You take a beat before continuing.

“It was kinda weird too. I think… just because we have so many memories there, yknow?” you begin, a small hesitancy in your voice that Natalie instantly detects. She listens as you both continue your walk, coffee cups in hand. “And I think it made us both think… about what we want… from our relationship…”

“Okay…” she trails off, her ears practically perking up as soon as she knows where this conversation could be going.

You stop your walk, turning to face her.

“And we talked… and… decided that….”

“Carmy and I… are getting married,” you say, unsure of how you’re so cool and level-headed as you say it.

“Shut up!” she exclaims, grabbing for your left hand almost instantly.

“We’re not-, we don’t have a ring yet,” you’re quick to explain, as she shoots you a look. Her eyes flicker from your ring finger, then back to your face. She knows he has the ring, and the fact that you’re not wearing it right now means he didn’t bring it to New York with him.

She’ll let him off the hook. Just this once.

“That soft shitty bitch,” she sighs, with an eye roll. “I could kill him for not doing it for real but… I know it’s your style.”

“Right.”

“Oh my god! You and Carmy are getting married!!” she squeals. This may be the best news she’s gotten since she and Pete found out they were pregnant. “I mean. Took him long enough.”

You roll your eyes playfully, “Sounds like we’re finally gonna be sisters-in-law.”

“Finally!” she repeats with a laugh.

You spend a little more time with Nat at the River Walk, before the both of you stop to get a snack. Sugar’s totally honest with how strange her cravings have been as you stop at a convenience store for pickle chips, a pop, and a pack of twizzlers. You decide to try her very strange combination of snacks, just to hold you over before dinner.

As you make your way home, you notice that the days are getting longer. The sun is still high in the sky and it reminds you that summer is almost here. It’s wild to think about. Your trip to New York hadn’t just gotten into Carmy’s head. It’s had you in yours too. It’s strange to think that, this time three years ago, Carmy was but a painful memory: your best friend who’d just left town, your best friend who couldn’t bother to call you back, your best friend who had broken your heart because maybe, just maybe, you were in love with him.

And now, thanks to a one week trip to Chicago that set it all in motion, you’re marrying him.

You thank your lucky stars that he managed to work up the nerve to call you that Fall – that he managed to swallow his pride and ask you to come help out with this new restaurant he was working on.

You take the long way home, enjoying your own company too much. You figure you’ll take a shower when you get home, change into your comfiest clothes, then head across the street to order dinner before Carmy gets home. You hadn’t heard from yet, which only told you that the emergency at the restaurant was most likely a big one. You expect for him to be gone most of the night, crawling into bed while you’re half asleep after scarfing down reheated leftovers. You weigh your options – how you’d like to spend the night by yourself:

Trash TV. Snuggling up with Aioli. Maybe even doing a load of laundry.

As you turn your key in the door, you hear a clamoring of pots and pans.

But Carmy hadn’t texted you.

He wasn’t home already, was he?

You push the door open, pulling your keys out of the door, before placing them into the dish that sits on the end table right by the front door.

“Carm?” you question, as you hear movement in the apartment.

You can smell the scent of boiling water, cured pork, and soon enough, you spot one of your clear, glass bowls filled with a tomato passata. The sight stops you in your tracks. He’s got his french-laundry-blue apron on, because, of course, he’d wanted some for the house too. You watch as he moves around the kitchen, his attention focused on chopping up half of a red onion. Carmy must’ve lit every single candle that he could find in the apartment and scattered them around your living space before you’d gotten here.

Aioli seems transfixed by the revolutions of the vinyl Carmy’s put on as the record, perched on the windowsill next to your record player. The turntable slows to a halt, signaling that it’s time to flip it over.

You’re speechless.

“Carmy, what’s going on?” you ask, looking around the room.

“Babe, can you flip the record over?” he asks, motioning towards the windowsill.

“Uh…” you manage to get out, setting your bag down by the entryway. You make your way over to alcove, moving the needle back to its place, before flipping over the record. As you glide the needle back onto Side B, the sounds of Louis Armstrong boom throughout your living room.

“I thought-, what happened at the restaurant?” you stammer through, watching him in your open kitchen. “I hadn’t heard from you I just thought-.”

But you don’t have the words, feeling caught off guard, because whatever’s happening in your apartment right now feels big.

Carmy reaches a stopping point, setting his knife down, and making his way to the sink to wash his hands. He’s not going to propose to you (again) while his hands smell like onions. Your eyes are glued to him as he removes his apron, before setting it down on the counter.

“Surprise?” he says, almost apologetically.

“Oh,” you say back, as if you’ve forgotten the entire English language.

You’re not sure why tonight feels big, but it does. Maybe it’s because you got engaged last night.

Yeah, maybe it’s that.

But Carmy’s not one to make a big romantic gesture, so you’re not sure what’s going on.

“Good ‘oh?’” he asks, his eyes wide as he stares at you.

“Uh. Yeah,” you say, your words finally coming back to you. “I thought you weren’t going to be home till late. I-, I hadn’t heard from you so I guess I wasn’t expecting you to be home.”

He smiles sheepishly.

“There wasn’t actually an emergency at the restaurant,” he states, shifting uncomfortably on his feet.

He’s not sure why he’s nervous. He’d asked you last night and you’d said yes.

But nonetheless, this feels different.

“Oh,” you repeat.

At this point, you’re not sure you’re supposed to be saying anything, so you wait. You examine the face of your very nervous boyfriend – fiance – as he looks down at the floor, his hands fumbling for something in his pocket.

“You’re my best friend and the love of my life,” he starts, and he hopes you can’t hear that his voice is shaking. “And I-, well, I wanna do this for real.”

Carmy pulls a small box out of his pocket.

“Woah,” you say, your eyes widening as soon as you see it. .

“I know you already said yes, but… I didn’t have this with me. So,” he continues, his face red as he drops to one knee.

“Holy shit, Carmy.”

You swallow because the way that he looks at you takes your breath away.

“Marry me?”

You can’t help it as tears spring to your eyes. He opens the ring box, and you gasp, seeing the most ‘you’ ring possible. This feels so different than his ask last night, and both proposals feel equally true to both your relationship. You reach for him, pulling him back up to you as you say:

“Yes, Carmen. And yes, again. Let’s fucking get married.”

And Carmy’s leaping to his feet, pulling you into the warmest, passionate embrace. You pull away, just far enough to grab his head and kiss him, pressing your lips to his even through your smiles and giggles.

“Thank God,” he sighs, causing you to laugh as you pull away from him.

“Did you think I’d say no after I said ‘yes’ last night?” you ask with a laugh.

He shakes his head, looking at the floor, “It just feels more real with the ring, you know? Speaking of.”

And finally, he pulls the ring out of the box he holds in his hands. With your hand in his, he slides the delicate engagement ring on your ring finger, and you shake your head in total disbelief.

“Carmy this is beautiful. Did you pick this out yourself?” you ask, holding out your hand to admire the ring.

“I… had some help. Syd and Sugar actually…,”

You nod in response. Of course Sydney and Natalie had helped. And it explains the weird comments all day long about him not having a ring.

“You did good, babe. So good,” you compliment, admiring the ring that sits so perfectly on your ring finger.

“Yeah?” he asks.

“Oh yeah,” you reassure him, grinning ear to ear.

And finally, he leans in and kisses you, crashing his lips against yours. It’s then that you realize how nervous he is, his face hot with excitement. His lips move against yours, leaving a few long, passionate kisses before he pulls away slowly. His forehead is pressed against yours as he whispers:

“I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you.”

Taking a more playful approach you giggle:

“And I can’t wait to be Mrs. Carmen Berzatto.”

“Shut up,” he smirks.

“You love it,” you say back.

“I do,” he declares. “I love you.”

Carmy sits you down, and you watch as he makes you an amatriciana. You know that food is the way he shows you love – the way he knows how to communicate. You’re practically blushing as you watch him create the sauce for the pasta, your eyes admiring your very hot fiance, and the stunning ring he’s just put on your finger. He smiles to himself, hearing you type away on your phone as he moves around the kitchen. You’ve, of course, gotta spread the word and let Sydney and Sugar know that you’re grateful for their help.

As Carmy continues to make dinner, you find a good place to pause your ‘we just got engaged’ PR campaign. You turn your phone ‘do not disturb’ so that you can focus on just being here with him. It’s then that it dawns on you: you get to watch him do this for the rest of your life. Carmy, your best friend, with all of his little neuroses, all of his quirky tattoos, those brilliant blue eyes of his, and his tender heart that you’d protect at all costs… he’s yours forever.

And you, his.

And you think to yourself, that maybe, this was always how it was supposed to be.

fin.

a/n: while the story is done, there is a lovely bonus smut scene called 'it's perfect, chef' that picks up right where this chapter left off.

taglist: @allthefandomstogether @gaysludge @sobshoney @harrysmatcha @starbritestarlite @tpwkkmila @cool-girl-is-hot @nunya7394 @galaxyprincess51-blog @carmensberzattos

#carmen berzatto x you #carmy berzatto #carmy x oc #the bear hulu #the bear fx #jeremy allen white #carmen 'carmy' berzatto #carmy berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto #carmy berzatto headcanon #the bear headcanon #carmy berzatto imagines #carmy berzatto fluff #make my heart surrender #still into you

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elleloquently · 2 years

Text

invisible string [4] : ellie williams

part three

| college!ellie x female!reader - thank you guys so much for patiently (and excitedly) waiting for this update! school is absolutely so busy it's sickening, so it's hard to write as often as i want, but i really want to aim for at least one update per week! writing this chapter was so much fun so please let me know what you think... as always thank you for your love, requests are open, and reblogs and comments are always loved and appreciated! love ya <3 (p.s shout out to a creepy owner irl who inspired part of this fic)

| c/w - anxious reader, swearing, mention of weed, alcohol, men!

studying was very dull compared to texting a pretty girl.

ellie entered your life in a whirlwind, notes filling up your once empty walls and endless texts and pictures cluttering up your phone.

the texts came in slowly at first, maybe a few short conversations every other day, mostly complaining about how much homework the professor of your shared class was packing in before finals week hit. then entered stupid memes, random pictures... and suddenly you were staying up until 3am learning about each other, despite your 8am class.

it had only been a few days, and you knew that you were getting too attached.

it was a feeling that made your stomach sink, the realization of how much your mood improved with a simple text. you were happiest in class, sitting next to ellie, even when your hand cramped from filling out pages of study guides.

sighing, you turned your music up louder and crashed back onto your bed, cushioned by a multitude of throw pillows and blankets. you weren't getting much studying done anyway.

the song grew quiet as your phone chimed, music to your ears.

Zero progress.

attached was a photo of the study guide, the amount of completed questions matching those of your own packet.

you quickly typed out a response to ellie, short and to the point.

literally sickening

it was only a few seconds before she replied:

There goes my weekend!

you replied in agreement before forcing yourself back up to glance over your textbook. you've been lingering on the same chapter for over an hour. if you were truly honest with yourself, you probably only read about two paragraphs... you were distracted.

you hardly had time to even daydream due to how busy you were, but it's not like it mattered. you gaze lingered to the collaboration of drawings made by yourself and ellie, still sticking to the wall. your phone sounded once again, pulling you out of a sleepy daze. figuring it was ellie again, you closed your textbook in an act of resignment.

the smile that appeared once you heard the text notification slowly faded upon closer inspection.

it wasn't ellie. it was a friend, one you admittedly haven't spoken to much as of recent. you hadn't really meant to ghost her, but your schedules didn't really align much. this time of year you were so busy with assignments and work, and she was busy with... well, literally anything else.

her message consisted of only two words, call me. it was short and vague so you immediately obliged, worry taking over your senses.

she answered on the second ring, speaking before you had even opened your mouth.

"please tell me you don't have plans tonight," she urged.

you wince, already preparing an excuse. "i'm studying..." you start. it wasn't a complete lie, you really had been making an effort.

her disappointment is obvious by the way she sighs your name into the phone speaker. "i've barely seen you all semester," she argues.

you start to chip your nail polish on your free hand, holding your phone to your ear with the other one. "what's up?" you ask.

"come out with me tonight? please. you've hardly come out this semester and let's be real, once finals start there's no chance i'll be able to convince you to come out," your friend pleads. her desperation is heavy and you rub at your eyes.

you want to immediately tell her no, but you really hadn't seen her in awhile yet the other day you skipped class for a chance to hangout with someone you hardly even knew. granted, it was ellie, but still.

a pit of guilt planted itself in your stomach, forcing your next words.

"what time?"

yelping in excitment, the girl on the other end of the line gushes out all of the information to you. "i'll pick you up around eleven, okay?"

a rushed end to a quick call, with promises to text more and texting outfit options for the night.

you were nervous about the change of pace. it caused you a strange feeling of obligation, to get out of your bubble and do something different every once in awhile. during college, people were promised four years of finding their forever friends and partying, making the memories that will last their entire lifetime.

you tried to partake, but it felt forced.

with a demanding major and even more demanding coursework, it was hard to maintain friendships by finding the time to actually go out. any spare time you had was replaced with shifts at work.

you felt like you were doing college… wrong.

your music resumed, the volume increasing to drown out any anxious thoughts that would prompt you to cancel last minute.

with no new texts from ellie, you decided to give your study guide one last try.

─ ·𖥸· ── ·𖥸· ── ·𖥸· ── ·𖥸· ── ·𖥸· ── ·𖥸· ── ·𖥸· ── ·𖥸· ── ·𖥸· ─

by the time you were supposed to get picked up, you were already yawning. you had dedicated the last hour to getting ready and picking an outfit that was deemed cute enough to make you feel good but still comfortable enough that you felt secure.

though it felt like a sleepy time of year, students were nearly restless. the pressures of exams were relieved on weekends, places around the college town open all night for people to blow off steam.

it happened quickly so you didn't have a moment to reconsider or backtrack, a text of 'here!' and shoving your feet into shoes before dashing to meet your friend in the parking lot.

the car ride was a catch up session, your friend talking about her new friends but you made a quick decision not to tell her about ellie. you weren't exactly sure why, but it was almost like you wanted to keep ellie to yourself. you checked your phone mindlessly and couldn't help but feel let down when nothing new presented on your screen.

the streets were alive and busy, girls huddled together to stay warm despite the lack of coats. the outside was an indication of how busy each bar and club would be, warm with heat and bodies packed inside.

you arrived at your friend's favorite establishment, the environment a stark difference from the comfortable evening you were having in your dorm just a few short hours ago. you pressed your way through a thick crowd, hanging loosely onto the arm of your friend so you wouldn't split up.

drinks were overpriced but you ordered one anyway, something to hold onto but you knew you would probably only finish a little more than half of it if you were dedicated enough.

"i'm gonna meet up with some people, my friends and their friends," your friend explained over the music, quickly resulting in your growing concern.

you wanted to give her the benefit of the doubt, you always did, but other people getting involved meant you would be inevitably ditched within the hour. the look on your face gave away your feeling and the girl standing opposite of you had a short patience.

"i wish you would've told me," you tried to reason, not wanting to look or sound pathetic.

"it doesn't matter," she shook her head. "they're nice, it'll be fun."

fun.

'fun' ended up being the act of standing awkwardly in the back because they wouldn't make enough room for you in the circle. 'fun' apparently was listening to them tell the same story over and over, yet talk over you every time you tried to speak too.

forced to be a wallflower, you stood with your back against the wall as you observed other people dancing. you could almost be content like this... the music was loud and the lighting was dark. the combination seemed like it would be an anxiety nightmare, but it was actually the opposite. you could stand there, completely unnoticed, hidden by the atmosphere.

you really could've been okay with it, until your eyes were drawn to your friend pointing at you. you stood up straight, thinking she was beckoning over, until you realized exactly what she was doing. she had been dancing with a guy that night, and that guy seemingly had a friend. she was pointing you out to the friend, pushing him to join you. he started walking in your direction and your stomach filled with dread. you didn't want to be in this situation, and you certainly didn't want to make small talk with some guy.

you tried to look busy, quickly pulling out your phone and looking anywhere else. against your silent praying, the guy stood over you.

"hey," he said, leaning too close to your ear and you ducked your head away. he smelled like alcohol and cologne that was sprayed too many times. you tried a polite smile but it came out like a wince.

"can i buy you a drink?"

you answered his question by holding up your cup, hand tightly covering the opening of the top. you had only taken a few sips of it, not able to stand the taste.

"how many?" he pressed, pointing to your cup.

"what?" your face scrunched in confusion.

"how many drinks have you had?" he clarified with a laugh that you didn't return.

"one. this is my first," you informed him flatly.

he made a face like he was pretending to be let down and your stomach turned. "only one? come on girl, you need more than that."

you outwardly groaned, rolling your eyes as you pushed yourself off of the wall. "i'm going to the bathroom. bye."

"want me to hold your drink?" he called after you, agitated and loud.

you ignored him and stepped carefully through the crowd, not wanting to stand too closely to any men or accidently bump any dancing girls. you were hyper focused on the restroom sign and the way the music pounded in your ears, muttering to yourself when you felt a hand wrap around your arm.

you immediately tensed, your blood running cold but your body feeling hot simultaneously. was this guy seriously grabbing you right now?

short tempered and fuming, you loudly spat "fuck off," as you angrily whipped around, only to be met with horrified green eyes, freckles, and auburn hair.

letting go as quickly as she had reached for you, ellie dropped her hand. "shit, sorry, i-"

you quickly cut her off, apologizing profusely.

"ellie, oh my god, i am so sorry," you stressed, heart sinking when she took a step away from you.

"sorry, i really shouldn't have done that," ellie mumbled, wincing. you nearly didn't hear her, the music was too loud.

she had on a loose flannel, unbuttoned down the middle and her converse. you were sure that her horrified expression matched your own, and you wanted nothing more than to sink into the floor.

"i'm so sorry," you repeated. "i thought you were someone else and-"

"i'm sorry, i called your name but-"

you kept talking over each other, rushing awkward apologies. ellie shifted on her feet, her cheeks red.

"sorry," you mentioned again, defeated. "there was this guy, and..."

"a guy," ellie repeated quietly, her expression unreadable.

"yeah," you pushed on, glancing over ellie's shoulder. he was watching you now, remaining where you left him. gross. "i was trying to get away from him and i didn't hear you, i had no idea, i'm so sorry ellie."

she laughed dryly as she recovered but your face still stung with embarrassment. "it's alright," ellie reassured you, turning her head to briefly spot the guy you had glanced at. "are you here with him?" she asked curiously.

you quickly shook your head, rolling your eyes to express your disgust. "no," you emphasized. "i'm here with my friend but... i don't know," you laughed bitterly, finally taking a moment to let it sink in that you had ran into ellie here.

"i don't know why i'm here," you felt the need to say.

ellie nodded with a short laugh. "tell me about it."

you raised an eyebrow but didn't press it, still feeling like you needed to collect yourself. you could stand and talk with ellie forever, but you seriously needed to regroup.

"hey, um, i'm gonna run to the bathroom," you explained.

"come find me when you're done?" ellie offered, green eyes scanning your face. she pointed to an area by the bar, showing you where you could find her.

your nerves didn't stand a chance, overpowered by the overwhelming desire to be close to her. you nodded, your smile genuine for the first time that night.

before you could return on your path to the bathroom, ellie spoke again. "do you want me to hold onto that for you?" she offered, gesturing to the drink in your hand.

"oh, yeah, thanks ellie." you passed it over and she covered the top with her hand automatically, a simple thing that made your heart swell.

"i'll be there, alright?" she guaranteed, her eyes never leaving yours. you nodded once and parted ways, quickly heading to the bathroom.

you dashed for an empty sink, running cold water over your hands as you stared at your reflection. you couldn't figure out why, but you felt weird about running into ellie here. you suddenly wondered who she was here with, or was she here alone?

pushing out a deep breath, you turned off the water and dried them with a paper towel. you felt dizzy, like you were in a state in between sleeping and being awake.

"this," you mumbled to your reflection, "this is why you don't go out."

once you had worked up the courage, you emerged from the bathroom and scanned your surroundings. the girl you came with was dancing with the guys and her friends. feeling secure in the fact that you wouldn't be missed, you went to look for ellie but you didn't have to search for long.

ellie was exactly where she had said she would be, leaning against the bar with her hand protectively covering your drink. she seemed to be keeping an eye out for you because when your eyes locked, she waved you over.

you didn't bother to try and contain your grin as you made your way over, but your confidence was short lived when a pretty girl with dark hair leaned over, talking in ellie's ear.

oh.

whatever the girl said had made ellie laugh, and you faltered in your step. of course she was here with someone. of course she had other friends, (a girlfriend?) other people that she actively talked to and hung out with. you would've been stupid for thinking otherwise, you just hadn't thought about it much.

you didn't want to interrupt, but ellie caught your eye again. she raised her eyebrows, curiously, waiting. taking a deep breath, you pressed on, slowly coming to her side.

ellie handed your cup over and you accepted, taking a drink for courage.

"welcome back," ellie mused, a small smile gracing her lips.

you glanced at the girl standing on the other side of ellie, the liquid in her cup a vibrant color. ellie followed your eyes and made a face of realization, pulling the girl into the conversation.

almost sounding sheepish, she introduced her. "this is my friend dina, and... jesse," ellie craned her neck around but 'jesse' was elsewhere. you nodded anyway, smiling in dina's direction.

"hi, it's nice to meet you," you said, genuinely, despite your heart pounding in your chest.

"likewise! i've heard so much about you," dina replied, eyes bright and smiling.

ellie's eyes widened and your eyebrows shot up, taken aback by dina's introduction. you glanced at ellie but she was already composed.

"really?" you asked, truly surprised.

dina laughed and changed the subject. "jesse complains about coming but yet it's impossible to keep an eye on him," she expresses in response. "it was so nice meeting you," dina smiles at you once more and quickly squeezes ellie's shoulder before disappearing, presumably to find 'jesse.'

you take another drink and ellie clears her throat, music filling the silence. "where's your friend?" ellie questions.

you hum thoughtfully and scan the faces of all of the dancing people until your eyes land on her group. "there," you nod in their direction, trying not to sound bitter.

"are they all your friends? do you want me to go meet them?" ellie asks, watching them for a moment before gazing at you, eyes flickering over your face.

"no," you reply quickly, flatly.

"okay then," ellie laughs, tilting her head to peer at your expression. she brushes a strand of hair out of her face and it's hard not to watch, to not be entranced by every slight movement and expression she makes.

once again, you're thankful for the lighting, or lack thereof, and for the music. for some reason it feels like less pressure, which you appreciate.

"oh god," ellie mumbles, drawing your attention. she wraps her tattooed arm around your waist, gently pulling you closer to her side. your breath hitches and you tense up, but her arm is then back by her side, the ghost of her touch electrocuting your senses. "watch out," she says, nodding to an older man making his way to the bar.

your eyebrows draw together in confusion as ellie watches the man in disgust, but you're more focused on the fact that her arm was just around you for about three seconds.

you take a slow drink, watching as the man leans down to talk to several girls crowded around the bar. it seems nearly harmless though a little odd, he's definitely the oldest person in the room as everyone else is college aged. you turn to ellie, confused, but she nudges your arm to keep watching.

he puts his arms around the girls, his hands going way too low, signaling the bartender to give them drinks with a flick of his hand.

you face ellie, eyes wide and mouth agape. she nods in disgust, but slightly amused at your expression.

"he's the owner," she explains. "he's so gross... people flirt with him because if he likes you, you're set with free drinks. he's just... gross."

"why are you here?" you question, frowning.

"dina likes to dance," ellie says simply.

"and you?"

"no," ellie laughs quickly.

"i definitely wasn't expecting to run into you here," you admit, running your finger along the rim of your plastic cup.

"yeah? i wasn't expecting you either." ellie watches you carefully, thoughtful in expression but casual in demeanor.

"excuse me ladies," a gruff voice cuts through. you snap your head up and meet the eyes of the owner, chewing your bottom lip nervously as his eyes drag across you and ellie. he contemplates ellie for a moment before setting his gaze on you, frowning.

"aren't you warm in that, sweetheart?" he slurs out, indicating to the sweater you're wearing. ellie places a gentle hand on your shoulder, making a face at the man from over your shoulder.

"i'm just fine," you remark.

he doesn't like your answer, but you didn't say anything rude so he can't lecture you. he stares at you, unmoving, and decides to give you one last chance.

"what're you drinking there?" he questions, shuffling closer to get a better look. he makes like he's expecting you to bat your eyelashes at him, and ellie tugs you backwards into her.

"let's go dance," she murmurs into your ear. your face gets hot and her hands are on your shoulders, walking behind you and guiding you away from the bar. you leave your drink on the counter, unwanted.

once you're far enough away, she gently halts you to a stop. your skin is burning from the contact and you turn to face her, trying to be lighthearted. "i thought you don't like to dance?"

the corners of her mouth turn up and you give in, absolutely folding in her presence. you leave about a foot of space in between your bodies, but loosely and awkwardly wrap your arms around her shoulders. it makes ellie nervously laugh, and she hesitates before carefully placing her hands at your waist. it's your turn to laugh now, fully aware of how ridiculous you must look. you obnoxiously sway to the side, putting your weight onto one foot and then the other, threatening to make each other fall over with the abrupt movements. it's a stark contrast to the way everyone else is moving to the music, but you're both genuinely laughing so you leave it be.

you can see your previous group in the corner of your eye and nerves wash over you again, feeling shy at ellie's playful touch. suddenly you feel guilty for harboring a secret crush on the girl, feeling as if you've crossed some sort of boundary. you steady yourself but it's hard to breathe with ellie so close, staring at your eyes and your lips and your eyes again... or did you imagine it? obviously not, but certainly you're reading into it? making something out of nothing?

ellie coughs, flustered. you both stop 'dancing,' dropping your arms and facing each other straight on.

"hey," you say, your face scrunching in confusion, "i thought you were working on the study guide tonight."

your comment makes ellie recover and she breathes out a laugh in surprise, even though you were being serious.

"i thought you were working on the study guide tonight."

you frown and ellie rolls her eyes, shaking her head at you in pretend disappointment. "work on it with me tomorrow then," she tells you, nearly surprising herself with how quickly it came out.

her voice is like honey, making it impossible to pull away from her, even mentally.

"really?" you eye her suspiciously.

she nods and shrugs, and you promise to think it over. standing this close to ellie felt dangerous to the small amount of confidence you tried to build up. she smelled almost earthy, a warm deep scent, maybe a touch of vanilla and... weed?

a hand brushed your waist but it wasn't ellie's, the body stepping into view. the guy from earlier that your friend had sent over came around to stand next to ellie, his eyelids heavy.

"what the fuck, dude?" ellie questioned sharply.

"i was watching you dance," he mused, glancing at you and then ellie. it was hardly even dancing, you were just making each other laugh, so your skin crawled with the idea of that guy watching with ill intent.

"okay, go watch someone else," ellie shot back, her tongue sharp.

you glanced around, catching sight of your friend from earlier. she was watching the interaction, as if it were encouraged, and gave you a thumbs up. you exhaled in disbelief, turning your attention back to ellie. she was staring the guy down, brows furrowed.

"you ladies wanna dance with me or what?" he was cocky, drunk, and standing way too close.

"fuck off," ellie spat, a lot like how you did earlier when you thought that he was the one who grabbed your arm.

he stood in disbelief, unmoving, so you grabbed ellie's hand and dragged her away.

"they should be banned from public places," you grumble. ellie snorts, features immediately softening as she turns to you.

"this is ridiculous. do you wanna get out of here?"

at her proposition, your heart leaps. you definitely do, but the idea terrifies you nonetheless. despite yourself, you automatically nod.

"let me go find dina and jesse, see if they're gonna leave or stick around longer. wanna come with?"

you almost say yes but shake your head instead. "i should go tell the person i came with that i'm leaving, just in case."

ellie nods in understanding. she starts to turn away but stops short, eyes boring into your own. "meet me right by the entrance, okay? i'll be quick."

it's your turn to signal your understanding now, and you head back through the crowd to find your... friend. it's pretty easy to spot her but not to gain her attention.

"hey. hey, i'm gonna go, alright?"

she whips around at you, confused. "you're leaving?"

"yeah."

"are you gonna be safe?"

despite being ignored and ambushed with a creepy guy, you smile at her concern. it's the bare minimum, really, but it's appreciated.

"yeah," you repeat. "it's... a friend from class. she's good. safe," you express.

you say your goodbyes and head straight for the doors like you agreed with ellie. you’re only waiting alone for a moment before she joins you, car keys in hand. dina and jesse aren’t following, and instantly you feel like an idiot.

“oh my god, ellie, i totally sabotaged your night.”

“what? no you didn’t,” ellie disagrees.

you push through the doors together, greeted by harsh winds. the cold evening air was shocking as it hit your face, self doubt washing over you.

"you were just trying to have a fun night with your friends and i... i'm such an idiot," you mutter.

"whoa, hey, you're alright," ellie presses softly. she stops walking to look at you, but looks as though she has to work up the courage before she continues speaking. "i'm glad you here were, alright? dina and jesse are fine."

your face is burning and she hesitates again, but the worry expressed on your face causes ellie to continue on.

"honestly i was getting ready to leave before i saw you," she admits, looking in any direction away from you.

you beg and plead with yourself not to read into it, but why did she hesitate? why would you be nervous to tell that to someone who's just a friend? are you reading too much into it, or are you friendzoning yourself?

"ellie," you breathe, and she finally brings her attention back to you. the wind howls through the night, whipping your hair across your cheeks. your heart beats quicker but ellie grows reserved, adjusting her weight on her feet.

"i'll drive you to your dorm," she tells you as she beings walking once more. you quickly follow behind, in a trance of wondering and wanting.

it felt different from before, different from sitting next to her in class and different from studying together. what was usually light hearted jokes and easy conversation was replaced by a thick cloud of nerves, a tension that conjured itself out of nowhere and you desperately wanted to crack a joke but you felt shy.

you were texting a lot lately, you had some serious late night conversations about your families, stressors, lives, anything to get to know each other but this was different. ellie seemed almost solemn now, guarded, and you were worried that you had gotten too comfortable too quickly.

you worried as you walked to the car and you worried as she drove. ellie did exactly as she said she would and you arrived safely to your building, but your feet were glued to the ground as you reached the door and you desperately wanted to selfishly stay with her, just a little longer.

"thanks for pretty much saving me tonight," you stated earnestly. "it sucked before you found me, i'm glad you did."

ellie's smile was crooked and sincere and a wave of relief washed over you. "see you tomorrow?" she asked, her eyebrows drawing up to her forehead.

"the study guide will be completed," you affirm, grinning back at the auburn haired girl.

you heave open the door to your building and ellie steps back to the car, but you call after her one final time. "text me when you're home safe," you urge her, and you can't see the smile that graces her face.

"i will," ellie promises, and she did.

after cleaning up you fall into bed, exhausted, but your mind is racing. you turn to your side, facing the wall that is decorated with two sticky notes. you lightly trace ellie's drawings with your finger, willing yourself to go to sleep so you won't be absolutely miserable with a lack of sleep by the morning.

you were seeing her again, tomorrow, and nothing else at that moment mattered.

not your endless piles of homework, or the way you were ditched tonight. not the fact that the weather was getting colder by the day and you still couldn't find your earmuffs, or that one of your finals was going to take place at 7am.

nothing else mattered... just ellie.

[ part five ]

#ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x female reader #ellie williams x you #ellie williams college au #ellie tlou x reader #ellie williams fanfic #tlou x reader

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