#upheld the relief

[transalphabf]

Gifted

It was normal in your pack for Omegas and Alphas to be traded, to help keep the bloodlines fresh and the peace upheld.

You were one such Omega, given to a pack known for their Alphas hunting skills, with a high number of true shifters. Not all packs could boast that, as many would have individuals born that simply became more feral under the glow of the moon.

You didn’t know who your mate would be, nobody really did until the Chase was underway. Your Alpha sibling had enjoyed their Chase the night before - It was customary for Alphas that mated into the pack to match first, in order to prevent any potential same former clan partnerships forming accidentally.

Your eyes scanned the assorted Alphas gathered. One tall, with sandy hair and a scar running up their jaw, another lean, with long red hair and fangs that hung over her lips, a third with short dark hair, and gleaming eyes, the fourth and fifth twins with matching hunger glinting in their flinty gaze.

You looked to the other Omegas who had come with you. There were four of you in total, to encourage healthy competition with the Alphas, two or three of which you could smell were true shifters. A low rumble came from one, catching the group of Omega’s scent on the wind.

You’d be given a five minute headstart to get your blood thrumming and allow you to evade capture if you truly didn’t wish to be mated, and you took off into the dense woodland, pausing to rub your scent on a few different trees to confuse the hunters. Then, you made for the sound of running water, jumping into the stream and following it up, until you came to a small covered area, an outcrop of rocks just big enough to stand up in. You wanted to keep running, but knew that sometimes hiding was a better solution- what Alpha could have tracked you up the river, after all?

You heard the sounds of another Omega moaning and shouting as they were caught and knotted up by an Alpha, somewhere in the near distance probably twenty minutes into your hiding, and then half an hour later saw familiar shoes of your cousin run past, chased by the twin Alphas, who would seemingly share her. Well, she always maintained she was too much for one Alpha to handle. You were more than thankful that you didn’t have to hear her being claimed and mated.

You let out a small breath of relief, still undetected. The only sounds you could really perceive was the river running past, and birdsong above. You lay your head on the cool stone, enjoying that you had successfully evaded any Alphas not worth your affections, eyes slipping shut for a moment, before hearing a growl from just above you. You held your breath, covering your mouth as you could hear the Alpha above you searching, sniffing you out.

After what seemed to be an eternity of slick pooling between your thighs, you heard him leave, and let out the breath you were holding. Not yet.

Until his hand grabbed your ankle and pulled you from the mouth of the small cavern, and you were pinned beneath the Alpha with gleaming eyes. He grinned at you, with sharp teeth, and you felt your body react instinctively, offering your throat to him. He leant in, and licked a long, slow stripe up your neck. You moaned softly, and his hand rested on your chest.

“If you don’t want this, tell me now.” He growled softly, but, emboldened, you found yourself reaching up to his cheek, meeting his gaze.

“I want this. I want you.” You spoke, without even really thinking for more than a moment. You didn’t need to think longer, not with how good his scent was. Your cunt clenched down on nothing at his responding growl.

Easily, he tugged down your shorts, exposing your slick, slightly puffy cunt to the cool air. He eagerly dove between your thighs, and pressed a thick, slippery tongue inside of you, making you gasp, your head thrown back as he lapped up your excess slick and ground his nose against your omega cocklet, making you gasp and shudder again. He pulled away after a moment, inspecting your pink, throbbing hole.

“Never been filled?” He asked softly, and you nodded, confirming that. He groaned and kissed your thigh, before stripping down.

“I can’t promise I won’t shift while claiming you. It won’t hurt too much, though, don’t be afraid - I know we look monstrous.” He murmured, and you felt your body tighten for a moment just imagining how it might feel to have him shifting inside of you. You hadn’t even felt his cock yet, but you couldn’t stop thinking about how it might feel being stretched even further.

“Breed me.” You pleaded, gripping his shoulder, your nails pressing in a little. He growled at that, and quickly pressed your legs up to your chest as he filled you, every inch making you feel even fuller. You glanced down, to see how much was left, and clenched on his thick cock when you saw the slight bulge in your stomach. Three more inches, and then his cock would be pressing everywhere inside of you. Your head fell back, and he sank in those final few inches, the tip pressing hard on your cervix, making you gasp, hips rolling a little, before he shifted his position slightly, making you see stars.

Then he began to fuck you. It wasn’t slow and gentle like a beta might do, you’d been told that they were always careful with Omegas, not wanting to hurt them. No, he fucked you like you were his personal knot toy. Maybe you were, but that wasn’t too much of a problem for you, not really. It felt too good to complain about, and every thrust dragged along your gspot which served to have you writhing beneath your Alpha.

As you felt yourself getting closer to cumming, you had the forethought to warn your Alpha, and he sank his teeth into your neck, claiming you right as you came on his cock, your nails drawing blood from his shoulders as he continued to fuck into you, body shifting, growing, changing as he continued to fuck you as hard as he could.

Your eyes rolled back as his cock grew impossibly bigger inside of you, and fur erupted along his body, the tip of his cock more tapered now as he became the ‘monstrous’ werewolf that he warned you he was.

If anything, you found it even hotter, and came again when the tip of his cock pressed against your cervix, and you felt the never used before muscle trying to open up.

He became uncontrollable, then, and began doing his best to fuck right through your cervix, the nerve endings firing orgasm after orgasm through your body. It was madenning.

When the tip of his enormous lupine cock finally breached your cervix, he let out a low noise, and his knot inflated rapidly, cock pulsing into you as rope after rope of thick, virile cum was fucked into your womb.

Yes, you’d been picked by exactly the right Alpha.

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[jaylver]

ROCKLAND — P.SH

synopsis: almost like a nightmare, park sunghoon plagues your present just as much as your past regrets had done. however, this time around, you and him decided to right your wrongs one last time.

pairings: non-idol!sunghoon x afab!reader

genre: exes to lovers, miscommunications, angst, second chance romance

warning(s): profanities, brief mentions of smoking, drinking, partying and alcohol

wc: 8k

a/n: i'm BACK. this has been in the works for far too long because of the constant writer's block so i'm not sure if it's good or not, plus it's my first exes to lovers so please be nice <3 greatly inspired by gracie abram's "rockland", so do give it a listen too! please leave a feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated! muah xx

masterlist | © jaylver all rights reserved.

If there was one thing you’d regret forever in this lifetime, it would be ending things with the love of your life.

You admit it, you’re selfish. Selfish for wanting to leave the town you grew to hate, selfish for prioritising yourself and chasing your dreams, choosing to leave the people you loved instead. Painted a villain in the eyes of many close to the person you once went home to and even the man himself. But, how could he fully blame you when he was equally selfish too?

Park Sunghoon thought keeping you in the cage of this small town was going to make him a happy man. He often fantasised about the possibility of you and his future together, completely pushing aside the thought of you leaving, until it actually happened.

He was angry. He let himself be consumed by his own feelings and mindlessly projecting his anger and blame on you, while you regretfully did the same.

Pools of tears and venomous words spewed out of impulse left you scarred and broken down. It was a bad ending that you’d see in movies coming to life. The moment you had everything packed and goodbyes said, you figured leaving was for the best, now that your ex hates you and his friends who probably felt the same. 

It was a shame, though. Heading to somewhere far from home with a heavy heart knowing you didn’t have the chance to see him once more. Frankly, you were a coward, and so was he.

That explained why returning back home was the scariest thing you had to face in a while. 

It was ironic, wasn't it? Coming back to the place you wished for years to escape and actually doing so, but eventually having to return after you dropped out of the college that you've been praying and praying to get into, only for it to be overwhelming and the city lights couldn't compare to the starry night of your hometown.

You suppose you got the thing you wanted, but it just wasn't what you imagined.

Freshly twenty-two and out of school, you figured home was what you needed in your next step before deciding if you should re enrol. However, you find yourself not having the guts to face your family and friends, not after the promises turned out to be empty. 

"You should quit smoking," 

Yunjin, your cousin and practically your closest friend growing up, was just a distance away when you spotted her, leaning against her car with a cigarette in hand. You found it amusing how she didn't cave into vapes instead in this day and age. 

"Y/N!" She pushed the bud of her half smoked cigarette into the wall, then started jogging towards you, her dress flowing in the wind and boots making obnoxious clicks against the ground. There was a sense of relief in her eyes, her usual smile that you missed graced your presence. "God, I missed you, things aren't the same without you here,"

In the span of a few seconds of her hug, you took the chance to digest her words. Did that mean the traditions you've upheld are now gone? Parties, trips to the beach, all those? 

"What?"

Yunjin pulled away, still managing a small smile. "I don't think things were ever the same since you left … and after you broke up with Sunghoon,"

You blinked, looking away into the distance. "I don't think I'll be welcomed,"

Yunjin scoffed, slapping your arm and scurrying to get your bags. "Don't say that! So not true. Everyone in the family is waiting for you to be back—"

"And talk behind my back about my failure in graduating? Yeah, no,"

‘‘That’s not going to happen,” Yunjin sighed, struggling with your bags and declining your help, but you still forcefully grabbed some knowing she’d eventually crumble. “I think they’ll get it,”

Would they?

Once you are settled into the car, bags successfully loaded into the trunk, you let yourself melt into the comforts of Yunjin’s passenger seat, finally getting to close your eyes and drift away. You thought it was best before having to face everything and everyone once again.

“What’s your plan now, anyway?”

Without opening your eyes, you envisioned a distant image in your head. “Take my time off and see if I’d like to re enrol or not. If I don’t, I’ll just go plan B,”

“Which is?”

“Accept the job offer in London,”

Yunjin almost hit the brakes out of shock, the news that came from you felt like it had hit her in the face, but somehow, she managed to keep her cool and not get you both killed. “What?” she shrieked.

“What?” you questioned back, sounding nonchalant as if this was just another normal offer that didn’t seem particularly significant. But it was.

“You have a job offer in London and you’re coming back here,”

“I left the city for a reason, it’d be stupid to go to another one right after,”

Yunjin exhaled, blinking in stupor. “Right,”

“How’s … everyone?”

Yunjin knew you weren’t referring to your family. Of course you’d know how your own family was doing, that’s a no brainer. What you were trying to mean was your old friend group. You couldn’t blame them for being mad at you, after all you were only a part of it because of Sunghoon.

“Heeseung’s graduating soon,” this was the first update you’ve gotten from Yunjin after those years away. It took you every will not to ask her about them, but here you were now, finally giving in. “They’re still the same, nothing’s changed,”

“What about him?”

Yunjin seemed hesitant, obviously holding back something that she didn’t want you to know. “I’m not going to explode upon hearing, you know that, right?” you joked lightheartedly, but secretly dreading hearing about him.

“I think he’s seeing someone,”

“Good for him,” 

Would it be a crime to admit that you still missed your ex? Something in you was wishing you could rekindle a connection again now that you’re back, but all that hope shattered. If he had already moved on, why couldn’t you? Even after knowing how he probably hated and resented you for doing what you did, you still couldn’t bring yourself to hate him back. 

“That’s all?”

“You want me to go full crazy ex mode? You’re insane,” you shook your head, smiling a little, hoping Yunjin didn’t notice the speck of sadness swimming in your irises. “Whoever she is, I’m sure that I would like her … if I were slightly nicer,”

She let out a ‘tch’ in response, though grinning. “What are you going to do with them around? There’s no way you’d be able to fully avoid them,”

“What can I do? I’ll just have to coexist.”

Coexist was a funny word. How were you able to do that when you couldn’t even fully get over Sunghoon in the first place? Thinking about meeting him in flesh already made you feel like doubling over and projectile vomit. That was how pathetic you were, what a shame. 

Settling in was easy. It was natural to be back home, way better than being in the noisy city and constantly surrounded by a bunch of fake friends. The question of why you left in the first place started burning your mind as you tossed around trying to sleep, but it only persisted to bug you. Then came the thoughts of Sunghoon and the friends you left behind, which prompted you to be fully awake, sitting up in bed.

It wasn't the greatest idea to reach for your phone and search for his contact name, just to recall the day you deleted his number. Yet, your memory never failed you, remembering the digits like it was first instinct, fingers already typing his number. Your thumb hovered over the green call button, a haze in your mind.

Inevitably, you shut your phone and dug your head into your pillow. He would've laughed then, if he had seen this happen, the exact moment of you almost caving in and finally saying the sorry you never gave him.

The pictures you saw of him on social media here and there made you wonder how he was and if he had already forgotten about you. There were a few recurring appearances of a girl that seemed to linger by his side in group pictures that caught your eyes. Who took your bed when you left? Who laughed at everything that he said? Was it that girl?

Just like the time you first had a crush on Sunghoon, you stayed awake thinking about him, except this time around, you were filled with regret instead of hope. 

"Heeseung asked me about you,"

Yunjin's random confession in the middle of the day had surprised you. Lee Heeseung, the best friend of your ex who you swore hated your guts, asked about you? Shocker.

"What did you say?"

"I said something along the lines of you figuring out life and just chilling here until the time comes," Yunjin shrugged, and you nodded slowly. "But there's something he said that made me a bit … confused?"

"What?"

"He said they wanted to see you again," 

You raised your eyebrows, a hint of scepticism flashed over your eyes. "They want to see me? Tell me a better joke next time, thanks,"

"I'm not joking! I mean, he did say excluding Sunghoon, but the other guys wanted to know how you were now that you're back," Yunjin winced a little at the mention of your ex, but you waved it off.

"Are they treating me to dinner or something?"

"Well … no. But Heeseung asked me to bring you to their next party, which is in a few days," Yunjin's gaze softened, hand patting your back. "You know you don't have to come if you don't want to. I mean, after all that happened with you and them and Sunghoon,"

You let out a small sigh, absentmindedly fidgeting your fingers. "It's all in the past now. I'm sure Sunghoon has moved on with another girl, and maybe—just maybe—the guys do hate me less."

You never went to that party Yunjin mentioned.

It was hard to admit but you knew, deep inside you, you were afraid, too cowardly to face the people you once knew. Instead, you chose to linger around like a lost soul in a town full of the ghosts of your past. 

It didn't help that the party was also in Sunghoon's house. How did they expect you to go in the first place? You thought you'd never step foot in there after you broke it off with him, and you were adamant on keeping it that way, but your heart got the worst of you.

On the night of the party, you drove around the neighbourhood, eventually stopping across the street of his house. You didn't know what got to you to do so, but you guessed reminiscence and bright lights coming from the house were the reason. The music was loud, people were coming in and out of the house, and the only thing you could think of was him.

That thought alone was enough to have you drive away, leaving the house further and further away into the background just as the memories of him being pushed into the back of your mind.

Rotting in your bed wasn't how your early 20s were meant to be spent, and avoiding almost everyone most definitely wasn't the case either.

Your family and Yunjin were the only people you saw daily, as for the friends you once had, they were long forgotten or didn't even bother to reach out. Except for Heeseung and the others.

That, to you, was a really funny thing to think about. People who stuck by you after the break up and swore to be your closest friends didn't try contacting you once you moved back, knowing damn well word traveled fast in the town; whereas the friends you thought hated you were the first to reach out.

"I'll go to that party," you said to Yunjin on a sunny afternoon tanning session by the pool, sunglasses sitting on the bridge of your nose, hiding the apprehension in your eyes.

"Really?" Yunjin almost jumped out of her seat. It was a party she had brought up days ago, still persistent on taking you out. At least this time around, it wasn't in Sunghoon's house, but her friend Chaewon's. "That's great! Chaewon and the girls are super nice, you'll love them. Let's pick a nice outfit for you, okay?"

Yunjin was by far the most enthusiastic one between you and her. She was picking out dresses and tops, literally rummaging through your closet for anything, and you had to remind her it was just a college party. So, you settled for a skirt and a plain top. 

"Will you be okay? I'll stick by you," Yunjin had her arms around you, standing by the front door of Chaewon's house, hearing the music blaring from the inside.

"I'm fine—I think I'll be fine—I just don't want to run away from everyone anymore," it was mostly true, you thought it was inevitable to hide all the time, that wasn't how you're going to spend your life living.

"If there's anything, tell me, okay? We'll leave if you're getting sick," Yunjin gave your arm a final squeeze of assurance before crossing the threshold. 

It was the same as every party you've gone to. Loud music, drunk college kids, liquor and beers strayed around, it reeked of your nightmare in a nutshell there. 

Yunjin's friends were all as lovely as she had promised. The host herself was wobbling on her feet but managed to grace you with her humour. There was Sakura and Kazuha that you learned were foreign students. 

Throughout the night, you were stuck by Yunjin, going from circle to circle and introducing yourself or recognising some of your past school mates. But, almost inevitably so, Heeseung, Jay and Jake had made an appearance too.

"Y/N," Jay was the first to call your name, causing you to turn your head at the familiar voice. 

Your thoughts during then were jumbled into a mess. The people you were fighting to avoid were standing in front of you, all of which were much different than the memories you had of them in mind. 

Three of them had grown taller, gained some muscles and matured in many ways. Jay's hair was dyed pink, Heeseung got new piercings and Jake had a tattoo on his finger. It was strange to admit they're the same people you knew despite feeling the complete opposite of familiarity.

"Hey—" you were cut off by Jay closing in and pulling you into a hug, this for once was something you remembered about him.

"We're so glad you're back," he whispered into your hair, squeezing you tight. It reminded you then that you were friends with him and the guys before you even dated Sunghoon, that connection was deeper than it seemed, and for it to be severed just because of a breakup was gut wrenching to realise. "We're sorry, Y/N, we're so sorry,"

His apology was genuine, that's for sure. Once you pull away, you let both Heeseung and Jake take turns to hug you, whispering apologies into your ear. It was odd, to accept their apologies and having to start afresh. You held onto them, just taking it in. To forgive was a big step, but maybe it was your first step.

You sat there, catching up with them and slowly getting comfortable just like the old days. Heeseung graduated and got a good job offer, Jay and Jake were still studying, both of which were in the same university. You were relieved there was nothing too awkward between you and them, or else you would have regretted your choices.

The night continued on with a few small talks and eventually you had to excuse yourself to the toilet. You wondered how Chaewon's house was so big, with halls that seemed to never end, or it could just be the effects of alcohol.

Stumbling around, you held onto the walls, passing by rooms occupied by people probably doing something unspeakable. You thought your peace of mind would be intact until the end of the night, but you were wrong. Upon turning a corner, you froze.

It was Sunghoon. It was him.

Grief was a funny feeling, especially when it comes to someone you once knew. You stared at him and there he was, like a ghost from your past coming back to haunt you. He was the shell of the person you loved, and you couldn't help but grieve the person he once was. What was he like now? 

Before you could even turn around and make a run for it, his wandering eyes landed on you. He had the same thought process as you. Realisation, panic, sadness, confusion all mixed into a heap of feelings. 

Your feet started moving on its own, as you stepped back, he took a step forward. Your breath became ragged, heart thumping hard and blood pumping in your ears. He was nearing, and you were running away, it was the same as before.

"Y/N!" He called out, and all it took was him to say your name again to have you stop in your tracks. Gosh, you were pathetic.

He was standing before you now, closer than he was a moment ago. It was then you realised how much he had changed too. 

He was taller, smile lines etched much deeper into his face, almost changing along the same wavelengths with the others. There was something different about the way he looked at you, however. From love in his eyes that eventually changed into hatred was now filled with longing and confusion.

"Y/N," he repeated, disbelief evident in his voice, as if he couldn't believe you were there. 

"Sunghoon," you blinked, a frown unknowingly making its way to your face. You let a few beats of silence pass, conflicted and nervous. "I—I should leave,"

"No—!" his hand reached out for you, but you didn't feel his touch. He didn't dare to touch you, letting his hand linger before pulling it back to his side. "I mean, you don't have to leave,"

"I thought you hate me,"

Sunghoon's gaze fell to the floor, jaw clenched and eyebrows furrowed. He met your eyes once more. "I should hate you, shouldn't I? But I don't think I do, I never did,"

You blinked, a little surprised, a little hurt. All along he had made you think he hated your guts but he actually didn't? "Oh," you seemed to have lost the ability to talk or to compute a proper sentence.

You thought of the things you wanted to ask him. If he was still angry at you or if things were working for him. But, what came out was the question you've stored in the back of your mind instead.

"Are you with someone new?"

You figured he didn't expect such a question from you, much as you didn't expect yourself saying it. It was an itching thought, one that made you look like a typical ex, but you couldn't help it.

"I'm not," he sounded almost exasperated, as if having to squash down this rumour for the thousandth time.

"Oh … oh," you didn't know what to say, averting your gaze away from him and finding comfort in the wall behind him. 

Sunghoon paused, gaze following yours, looking reluctant whether or not to continue the conversation, but alas, he did. "How have you been?"

"Bad," you laughed a little, and Sunghoon's ears perked at the sound of it that he hasn't heard for ages. "You?"

"I quit skating,"

That was surprising. How could he have? Skating was his dream, his past, present and supposed future, but now, it came crashing down. You didn't know if you should feel sorry for him, as you have been a part of his journey, but one bit of you also seemed to have started mourning the changed Sunghoon that stood before you.

"Why?"

He shrugged, hands slipping into his pocket with a solemn look. "I lost interest. I'm into music now, I'm in a band with the guys,"

You heaved a breath, a deep one. Ironic it was that he was doing music now when he was the one criticising you in the past for wanting to pursue it. Who even was this person? With a new appearance came a new personality, he was much further away than you thought despite the physical distance.

"You've changed," you didn't know what prompted you to say that, maybe it was the disbelief or the denial that he was someone new, but whatever it was, neither of you could deny the fact that he did change. "I'm scared of the person you've become,"

A beat passed, an unreadable expression on Sunghoon's face that you couldn't distinguish even though by now you thought you'd know every one of them. 

"And I'm scared you're still the same."

Seeing Sunghoon that night seemed to have altered something in your life. Somehow, he was everywhere you went. 

Who was working at the register? Sunghoon. Who was at the park? Sunghoon. Who was at the party Yunjin managed to drag you to? Sunghoon.

It was haunting.

All those little encounters didn't mean you talked to him like normal, though. The awkward tension in the air still remained, seeing each other only reminded you and him both of your pasts, and you hated it. That explained why you were having a hard time seeing him at another party you were at.

Yunjin was much more of a party goer than you expected, and she successfully convinced you to go to all of them. It was fun until you got drunk and started being emotional. Your efforts of hiding from Sunghoon that night failed when he barged into the empty room you were sobbing in, whether it was accidental or not, you didn't know, you wished to not know.

"Y/N?"

His voice brought back the times he called your name. Both the good and bad ones. You stared up at him from the ground, tears welling your eyes. The person you were looking at was someone you thought was a soulmate, but now stood as someone closer to a stranger than a friend.

"W–what are you doing here? Why are you crying?"

The alcohol messing with your brain was processing his words, but what came out from your lips was the total opposite of an answer. "I'm sorry, Hoonie," 

Sunghoon's eyes widened at the nickname, the privilege that only you had. He kneeled down, taking a seat on the ground opposite you, a visible distance in between.

"I hate this—us—I feel like if we gave it one night, to talk, to just feel—you'd hate me less and make it alright," you choked back the sobs building up in your throat, the dizziness making you unaware of how Sunghoon reached out only to hesitate and pressed his hand back to his side. "Just wish that we could fight now, I'd hold you on the comedown …" your voice faltered, head leaning onto the wall.

"Y/N, you're drunk, we can talk this out another day," Sunghoon striped off his jacket and covered your exposed thighs with it. "Just … don't avoid me. I–I don't hate you, I just hope we can have a decent conversation without thinking about the past,"

He admitted it, how the two of you had secretly been thinking about the past, letting it be a big wall in between instead of growing from it. Yet, you could tell the unspoken anger and sadness still lingered, choosing to pour out gradually and unknowingly.

"Bet you wish you never even met me," you started slurring, hand gripping onto his jacket tightly. "I can't blame you, I broke your every heartbeat," your eyes were shut, images playing in your mind, not knowing the saddened look dawning on Sunghoon's face.

"Let's get you back."

In your sleep that night, you saw him. He was there, so far yet so close, and just like reality, he was hard to reach, harder to understand compared to before. He was a knife cutting deep, leaving a mark that constantly reminded you of the past. 

How could you even make everything go back to the way it was?

Sunghoon was on your front door step the night everyone was out for dinner except you. 

You hadn't expected him to turn up, thinking it'd be you that stood at his doorstep instead as you still had his jacket from that party (which you do not want to think about again).

"Sunghoon. Hey," the door was opened and you leaned against it, trying your best at hiding the hint of pining in your gaze. 

"Oh, hey," he greeted back rather stiffly, dressed in a simple attire with the classic white Lacoste sneakers that he always wore. "I–I wanted to—"

"Take your … jacket?" You cut him off half way, nerves wrecking your brain.

A beat passed, Sunghoom visibly gulped. "Y–Yeah, my jacket,"

"I'll go grab it for you," you jerked your thumb over your shoulder, awkwardly scurrying back in to retrieve his jacket and coming back to see him chewing on his bottom lip, seemingly nervous. "Here. Thanks for it,"

"No problem," Sunghoon coughed, grabbing the jacket but absolutely paying no mind to it. His stare was straight at you.

"That's all, right?"

"Yeah,"

"Yeah," you echoed, hating the sudden rigidness between the two of you. "Bye then, Sunghoon,"

"Bye," Sunghoon said, looking dazed. Weird.

You saw him backing away and decided to close the door, but before you could even do so, a force had stopped you from closing it. Not a force, much rather a hand, his hand. The door was pushed open, and you physically jumped at the suddenness of it. Your eyes met Sunghoon's sorrowful ones.

"Don't push me away, Y/N, not again,"

"Sunghoon," 

He made his way in, closing the door behind him and you let him. Was this seriously happening?

"You said you wanted to give us one night to talk, so I'm here now. I didn't care about the jacket, I cared about you. I hate seeing us like this, it's like we're strangers," Sunghoon let out a frustrated huff, eyebrows furrowed.

"We can't just pretend nothing has happened between us,"

"So you want me to hate you instead? You're saying as if it's easy, Y/N, feelings don't work that way!"

"Then how do we go back to how it was? We can't, that's the truth. You're not the same person I used to know,"

"Cut the bullshit. I'm the same as I was, maybe just a little different than I was years ago, but that doesn't change anything. When does that ever stop you from loving?"

Were you too scared to love?

Sunghoon ran his hand across his face, wetting his lips. "You’re scared of change, and I don’t think that’s something new about you,” 

Ouch.

“But I really wish you could let it all go. I don’t hate you, nor do I harbour any anger regarding the things that happened years ago. It hurts, it did, but seeing you now made me feel the opposite of all those emotions,” Sunghoon took a deep breath in, and you were holding yours. “I think about you a lot, actually. I regretted a lot of the things I said and done, and I wanted to say I’m sorry. I’m sorry for not being there for you and giving you the support you needed. I should've fought for us and not leave, I–I—" Sunghoon choked, unable to hold in his overpowering emotions anymore.

You didn’t say anything, instinctively closing in and pulling him into your arms, letting his head lie on your shoulder, ignoring the feeling of his warm tears soaking the fabric of your shirt. "I'm sorry too, for leaving you so easily,"

You stood there with Sunghoon in your arms, inevitably crying along and sobbing out your own apologies, the ones you had owed him and hidden all these years. He held you tight just as you did, and it felt like the nights he had you in his arms whenever you cried. You eventually calmed down whereas Sunghoon was still composing himself, avoiding your gaze.

You took the opportunity to hug him again, tighter and firmer this time, as if trying to stop him from running away. 

"Can we start over? I don't want us to be strangers," 

You heard a sniffle, then a shaky breath of relief. "I'd love to,"

Pulling away, you locked eyes with him. They were twinkling brighter than the stars in the skies outside, filled with a spark of hope. "I'll make us some hot tea. Do you want to … stay over?"

"Can I?"

"I really want you to."

It didn't take more to convince Sunghoon to stay, all you had to do was ask and he'd listen. 

That night, you and him hid in your room, talking for the whole night until the break of dawn. Nothing about the way he talked had changed, nor his laughter or the crinkles around his eyes when he smiled. He told you about the band and some side gigs, offering to bring you to some too. 

You laid there in bed laughing all night, occasionally peeking over the side of your bed to check up on him who slept on the extra mattress, only to meet his eyes and freeze. 

The red string of fate tying you and him together was beginning to reform.

Not feeling dread every time you saw Sunghoon was a new start for you. In fact, you were glad to see him. 

The misunderstandings and complexity built up over the years were finally addressed, leaving you to peace and a small hope of rebuilding what you had with him. But you kept that thought away for now, holding onto the pieces you had at the moment.

"Come to one of my gigs," Sunghoon made a trip to your house on a random afternoon, a box of your favourite chocolate covered strawberries in his hand. He never forgot anything about you, didn't he?

"Are you bribing me or asking me?" You said despite accepting the box, your heart squeezing at the thought of him remembering the littlest details about you.

"I'm asking you but also offering a gift," he let himself in, almost like always, and you didn't even notice, just letting him do so. "I saw it and I thought of you so I got it,"

"Thanks," you waved the box a little, setting it down on the table and leaning slightly against it. "You still remember," 

His gaze softened. "Of course I do," his hand by his side was itching to reach out, but it never did, instead, he played it off by giving you a smile. "So, what do you say? This Saturday, watch our gig at the pub," 

"Are you singing?"

"I wish I did," he laughed, and you momentarily recalled the times you had karaoke sessions with him. Curse reminiscence. "I play the bass, Heeseung's the front man," 

You nodded slowly, picturing them as a band and smiling slowly. You've missed them, and it was then when you realised it. "I'll go,"

"Really?"

"Obviously, do you want me to say no?"

"Well, no," Sunghoon chuckled, quite literally unable to hide his excitement from the way he's grinning widely. "I'm just … glad, and surprised, and happy,"

You bit back a smile, shaking your head at him. "Text me the details, will you? I don't want to miss it."

Saturday rolled around quickly. You and Yunjin were sitting in a corner of the pub, beers on the table and whispering gossip about some of your high school classmates. High school might've ended years ago but gossip never stopped.

"Alright, folks, the next act is someone you already know, they are not strangers," the manager of the pub stepped onto the small stage, announcing Sunghoon and the guy's band. "Please welcome … April Nights!"

April? 

You bit your tongue, an odd feeling boiling in your stomach. April was the month you broke up with Sunghoon and left for university, it was more than just a coincidence for him and his band to have 'April' in their name. All you knew was the sinking feeling never went away.

"You alright?" Yunjin noticed your silence, casting a worried glance at you.

"April …" you mumbled, eyes staring straight ahead at Sunghoon who was setting up his bass on stage. "There must be something behind it,"

"What?"

"Nothing,"

You shook away that feeling currently eating up and put your focus on Sunghoon instead. It wasn't your first time watching him perform. It has always been him on ice in a big arena, but now it was him on a small stage at a dingy pub.

Sunghoon's eyes wandered all over the room, finally landing on you, a smile spreading on his pretty face. You managed a small smile, waving a little to let him know you're there, you're actually there and not a figment of his imagination, a dream that he has been wishing on for far too long.

The first song they played was an ABBA song. To be specific, it was your favourite ABBA song that you would listen to with Sunghoon in the past. Was it a coincidence?

You knew Heeseung had a vocal of stars, but to hear it for the first time in years was sending you into heaven. However, you failed to keep your focus on him, redirecting it to the bassist. You couldn't stop looking at Sunghoon, and his gaze wouldn't leave yours either. 

The second song soon came by, and at that point onwards, you knew it wasn't a coincidence. It only took two songs for you to realise that Sunghoon had prepared a set list of your favourite songs. The band was currently playing Iris by The Goo Goo Dolls, a song you had loved ever since forever.

You shouldn't be feeling light headed, but you were.

The set ended almost a few hours later. It was filled with your favourite songs, undoubtedly. The whole time, you were truly holding your breath, especially when Sunghoon was holding your gaze.

While people were filing in and out of the pub gradually, you stayed. It was well past midnight and Yunjin's cheeks were pink from the alcohol, wandering off to join Heeseung and the others. You, on the other hand, were sober as hell, waiting for Sunghoon with nerve wrecking anticipation.

"Hey, hey, hey. How did we do?" Sunghoon slid into a seat like an apparition appearing out of thin air. You jumped a little, but melted into a smile at the sight of him.

"You guys were great," it was genuine, because they did do amazing, probably more than just amazing. "'April nights', an interesting name,"

Realisation dawned on Sunghoon's face, he swallowed thickly. "I—yeah. April was an interesting month,"

"The set list …"

"Right, the set list," he chuckled, shifting on his feet a little nervously and stiffly. "I figured since you're here I'll play some of your favourite songs,"

"Oh," you let out softly, not knowing what else to say, this was something you found yourself acting around Sunghoon now. "That's … nice,"

Sunghoon gouged your expressions and the tone of your voice, a slow frown etching onto his tired face. "Did you not … like it? I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable,"

"No, it's not that! I'm just—" you paused, thinking of an appropriate word to describe how you felt. Frankly, you didn't know your exact feelings. "—surprised and … confused?"

"Confused?"

"Sunghoon, we're exes, and you pulling this isn't exactly helping—this—" you gestured to the space between you and him. "Us,"

Sunghoon was silent for a moment, occasionally opening his mouth to say something just to close it before he could. "I—maybe I read it all wrong, I thought—you know what, forget it,"

"Don't. Just tell me," you reached over for him, but didn't touch his hand. "What are we? We're not exactly best friends nor are we enemies. I don't want any tension between us and I don't want you to think you have zero chance at all," you breathed, searching for his eyes. "I would want us to work out again, if that's what you want too,"

Sunghoon's eyes glistened with a spark of hope, relief washing over his face. It was an answer to his question. "I want us to work out. I want us to have another chance," his hand reached out for yours the first time since you've seen each other, feeling the warmth of his touch that you were no stranger to. He carefully and gently intertwined his hand with yours.

"We'll always find our way back to each other."

It was odd but comforting to know that nothing has changed when it came to you and Sunghoon.

Sunghoon brought you to your favourite places, ate your favourite dishes, did your favourite activities as an attempt to rekindle everything back. Safe to say it was working.

Just like the first dates you had together, you felt yourself having the same bubbly feeling internally, the same giggles you caught yourself having after a stupid joke he made. Despite all that, over the course of a few weeks, it had you wondering about your relationship with him.

"Will you date him again?" Yunjin could tell you were struggling, even if you didn't say it, it was still quite evident.

"What's with the sudden question?"

"Well, considering he has taken you out on so many dates and still hasn't asked you to be his girlfriend again, I could tell you're troubled,"

"Okay, mind reader," you grumbled and shifted in your seat, hating how right she was. "He said he wanted to give us a chance again, so I was expecting that—you know—we'd get back together soon,"

"Your 'soon' seems a bit urgent, but I don't blame you," Yunjin shrugged, gaze softening at your words. "I can tell how much love there still is between the two of you. It's natural to gravitate towards each other, but time, time is what you need to heal the scars, Y/N. It's been years, give yourself time."

You suppose giving yourself time truly was what you needed. But when you mentally said you needed space, you didn't mean wanting Sunghoon to ignore you. 

That's right. He was ignoring you.

How did you know? Apparently, the hard way.

Calls, messages were all brushed aside. You didn't even see him physically. At one point, you considered him dead, but seeing him at a party proved to you that he wasn't.

"What the fuck is your problem?"

Cornering him was a challenge, but being headstrong and slightly buzzed, nothing could possibly stop you.

"Y/N?"

"Wow, I'm surprised you remember my name," you seethed, almost stumbling forward and throwing a punch at him. "So, we're playing the game where you get back at me and ghost me after all that we've been through lately? Sweet! Could've given me a head's up though,"

"What? You're the one who's planning to abandon me just like before!"

"What are you even saying?" 

"Your email, Y/N. I saw your email. How you have a big job in London and you just can't wait to join, throwing me away like a summer's fling right before you leave,"

"You're not making any sense, I'm not accepting that role!" You were heaving at anger at this point, matching the fumes emitting from Sunghoon's ears. "You dickhead! I'm literally throwing my dreams away and you're here thinking I'm leaving you again? Is that what you thought of first? Oh, maybe you could've just asked me, but you didn't, just like the past,"

Bringing up the past had triggered something not only in you but him. He blinked, keeping silent but chewing anxiously on the inside of his cheek. 

"You never changed, huh?"

You heaved a deep breath, shaking your head a little, not to answer his question, but at him. 

"Well I guess that makes the both of us."

"I fucked it up, didn't I?"

The night after the confrontation, you woke up on Yunjin's couch with a hangover thanks to your habit of drinking your problems away. Remembering Sunghoon's face and the feelings you felt literally had you shrivelling back into the couch, a deep frown etched on your face.

"Partly, yes, but mostly, no," you felt the couch dip beneath Yunjin's weight as she joined your side, a warm cup of coffee in her hand. "He fucked up first, but I think it's all just a big misunderstanding,"

"I don't we've healed from it," you took the cup from her and drank from it. "He's scared of me leaving and I was considering leaving again. Maybe we're just not meant to be,"

Yunjin sighed, moving her body closer to you and placing a comforting hand on yours. "If you're not leaving, that means you're staying, which also means you get to make it right. You get to have time to mend it all unlike the last time,"

"I have to make it right, don't I?"

A nod of confirmation from Yunjin was all you needed to know your next step. So, you decided to show up at his gig in the same exact pub without thinking through it twice.

"He's not here tonight," Heeseung looked thoroughly puzzled by your sudden appearance, and it seemed none of them knew about the small altercation you had with Sunghoon. 

"Really?"

"Yeah, he's been acting a bit … off. We asked him to take a night off, maybe you should give him a call."

If only it was that easy. 

Walking back home with a dejected heart was not the plan you had in mind. A part of you even thought this was truly the end, maybe he reached the conclusion of going no contact and you have no choice but to accept it. Was this karma?

It didn't help that you walked past the park that you and Sunghoon used to run off to back in the past.  The exact bench which you and him sat on still resided there. Your curious mind led your legs towards it, taking a seat and remembering all the memories you shared with him. 

Being alone under the night sky and getting accompanied by the dim light coming from the street lamp had given you a chance to rethink your choices about coming back home, whether it was worth it to see Sunghoon once again and try for the closure you never got. Well, look where it got you now.

The ruffles of the leaves got you snapping your head towards the direction of the noise, but it only landed on a figure.

"Y/N?"

You squinted, waiting until the figure walked under the streetlamp to distinguish that it was … Sunghoon. You should be feeling glad now that he was there in front you, but why were you feeling the exact opposite?

"Sunghoon? W–what are you doing here?" You stood up, watching him getting closer, the anguish in his face was clear.

"I–I … I went to look for you," he started, carefully and slowly inching closer until there's a comfortable distance between you both. "You weren't home and I thought … that was it,"

That was a fatal flaw you and him shared, wasn't it?

"I went to the pub to look for you too," your voice came out in a hushed whisper, breathing becoming ragged. "And you weren't there, so I thought … I thought it was the end too,"

"Fuck's sake, I know I said this many times but I'm sorry, Y/N," he sounded desperate, apologetic and almost exasperated. "I'm sorry for assuming things and ignoring you, I guess I never really got rid of the avoiding thing. I'm just … scared of you leaving me and I can't accept it again,"

"I'm not leaving, Hoonie," you were the first to reach out, to touch him and pull him into your embrace. "I didn't think you'd see that email so I never said anything about it. But I'm not leaving, okay? Not this time, never again. I'm here and I'm staying,"

You heard Sunghoon's quiet breathing next to your ear, his calming heartbeat thrumming against your shoulder. "I'm sorry, I really am, Y/N. I said I wanted to make this right but why does it feel like I'm fucking it all up?"

"You're not, Hoon, trust me. If I have to be honest here, both of us have past scars that aren't healed yet. It takes time, one step at a time, and that was what I learned. I think we're not fully healed from the past," you held onto him tighter, spilling all your hidden truths. "We can make it right, but first, we have to forgive ourselves, forgive each other and move on,"

Sunghoon pulled away a little, but his arms still remained around you. It was the first time you were ever so close to him since the split, wholly vulnerable and showing him your truest emotions. 

"I forgive you," he whispered, pearly tears threatening to spill from the edge of his eyes. "And I'm sorry again,"

"I forgive you too," your grip on his jacket tightened, a small comforting smile appearing on your lips, one that Sunghoon reciprocated. 

"I don't think I'll ever stop loving you," he confessed, a little out of the blue, but it was something he needed to get out of his system before he burst. "Those years when you were away, I see you in everyone else, I don't think anyone could ever compare. I still love you even after this long,"

Your mind was in a haze upon hearing his confession, sincerity and longing hidden in his words but evident in his eyed. For a moment, you thought of what you could say, but nothing came to mind, so you did the first thing your body told you to. You kissed him. Actually, it was more of a peck, a simple quick peck that was enough to shock both him and you.

"I'm sorry!" You saw his wide eyes and wondered if it was a good time to have even done that.

Sunghoon melted into an expression of adoration, a wide smile etched on his lips, as if in both disbelief and relief that you kissed him. "Don't be sorry," he stepped closer, only an inch measured the distance between you and him. The space became smaller when he leaned down, eyes flickering down to your lips. "Can I?"

Was this happening? "Yeah," 

Sunghoon didn't waste any moment in meeting your lips with his. It was natural, easy, for you to kiss him just like first instinct. The amount of desperation, sadness, anger and love were poured into the way he kissed you. There wasn't any urgency, but it spoke louder than intended.

It was short, but it was enough to let the both you know the true feelings you harboured for each other. By the time you pulled away from him, you felt his eyes on you, a giggle erupted from you unexpectedly, and he started joining in.

You really looked like a lovesick fool standing under the streetlamp with your lover. 

"Do you want to stop by that old spot we used to go to?" Sunghoon suggested, a little shyly this time.

"The one nearby?"

"That one,"

"Let's go then." you nodded, casting him a soft smile. 

Sunghoon didn't say much, but his hand did the talking by reaching for yours. He held onto it tightly, intertwining his fingers with yours and swinging your interlocked hands as you walked. He might've not said much, but you could tell how he felt.

Feelings might be complicated, and  making amends with the history behind a broken relationship was equally challenging, but what mattered most was getting back with the one who you called your soulmate, your lover, your best friend.

( © jaylver all rights reserved. do NOT copy, plagiarise or edit my work and repost whatsoever. once discovered will be exposed and blacklisted. )

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[777gojosgf]

HE WAS A MAN OF HIS WORD

nanami kento x reader in which: flowers are the symbol of your relationship.

a fluff drabble written by seven.

after weeks of gaining to courage to formally ask you out, he finally did and it ever so made you fall head over heels for him. you hadn’t met anyone before who was so gentle with you and so loving; he understood and took the time to get to know you from the inside out much unlike your previous exes.

but what truly stuck was the bewildered look on your face the minute he picked you up from your apartment for the first date you two had. he had called one of the most luxurious restaurants in the city for a reservation for two even though you told him that he really didn’t have to do that. a simple restaurant or even takeout would have sufficed but he didn’t want to hear any of it.

he arrived with a bouquet of red roses, quite stereotypical but not the less romantic. a smile plastered onto your face with the joy shone so bright on your face he made a mental note to always bring you flowers.

he already intended to do so, but seeing the look of your face only made him want to do it more.

upon the arrival at the restaurant, he guided you with his hand placed upon your lower back. quite bold on the first date but he was ready to risk it, but you pressing your back into him only made him force down a swallow to refrain touching you even more. it wasn’t polite.

but god, the things he wanted to do wouldn’t meet the politeness list either.

the dinner went by perfectly, constantly being upheld in a new conversation which varied about dream vacation destinations to the favorite kind of pastries. he had told you about a new bakery opening around the corner of the workplace the two of you shared and promised to take you there the next time the two of you shared the same work break.

you were truly enamored by him and his laugh that somehow only elicited by the jokes you made. that’s what he liked a lot about you, you always knew how to lighten him up with your remarks back when the two of you were merely coworkers.

but you were never just coworkers.

the stolen glances and lingering around his desk for a second too long only added upon the obvious.

but there was truly no resisting nanami.

fast forward to many dates later and he had officially asked you to be his girlfriend alongside a new bouquet of flowers, this time them being white lilies paired with pink tulips.

he knew you liked that combination when he took you to the bakery, but as you walked towards it, you noticed a flower store and couldn't stop glancing at the arrangement. even after picking it up and smelling it, he smiled softly, echoing the expression on his face, and after work, he offered you a ride home, which you graciously accepted. after he dropped you off, he handed you the same bouquet you had been eyeing, leaving you breathless and unsure what to say.

after months of sharing day and night together, you gradually moved into his apartment. it began with the casual drawer assigned to you, followed by him purchasing your full skincare routine and other often used things, such as your preferred perfume, so you wouldn't have to return to your place to retrieve it. you eventually went out and purchased a white marble vase, which enhanced the contrast of every bouquet he purchased for you.

the bouquets he brought you usually contained some hidden note. you remember when one night the two of you had a heated argument in his apartment that eventually proceeded to him leaving and you cursed yourself for letting something so small and insignificant blow out of proportion. but when he came back with a bouquet of white gardenias, holding one up to signify the definition of a white flag you let out a relief laugh before falling into his embrace.

he had popped the question one time when you were over at his place, and told him that it might be fun to cook together to which he agreed. nanami couldn’t ever say no to you, not because of the adorable look you gave him with that slight glint of mischief in your eyes that would make him run from hell to back just to see it once more, but because he physically couldn’t.

so when the two of you were making pasta from scratch, the dough being kneaded by him as the flour was still resting upon your cheeks and nose, watching him intensely while sitting on the counter he couldn’t help but blurt it out, “y/n, would you like to move in with me?”

at first, you stared at him, puzzled, your eyes expanding and your lips open, attempting to compose a phrase from which little came. but the fact that you jumped off the counter and turned around to kiss him passionately was enough for him, and the pasta was long forgotten when he led you to the bedroom.

now, he couldn’t even remember the days that you weren’t living with him. and he found joy in coming home to you to find you resting on the couch, your eyes closed as the tiredness of staying up until one am lulled you into a slumber and he only smiled at the look on your face. the bouquet was placed upon the coffee table as he took off his shoes and wandered over to you, planting a kiss on your temple before gently carrying you bridal style towards the bedroom.

the movement had slowly woken you up and with narrowed eyes you watched him carrying you. “ken?” you drawled out and he only shushed you gently. “don’t worry love,” he paused while placing you down on the bed, “i’ll join you soon.”

flowers, flowers and more flowers.

the apartment you shared was now decorated to reflect both of your personalities. nanami’s preference for minimalist and modern style, along with your plants and cosy decor, creates a more homely atmosphere. he allowed you do whatever you wanted, and it was a pleasant surprise to come home and see that you had moved some things around or to have you walk up to him overjoyed about the latest purchases.

he just loved everything you did.

so it came as no surprise that a year later, he stood before you on one knee, the diamond ring glittering brightly under the chandelier, and you quickly moved in for a hug, followed by a kiss—having long forgotten the physical ring and focused more on the fact that you would become officially his.

the room was filled with flowers and candles, and you had no idea when he told you to go all out when dressing if you wished. nanami knew you'd be disappointed if he didn't offer you any hints, but he did just in case, because he knows you. he had gotten to know you and who you are, which only added to his desire to be there for you. to look after you, be by your side, and love you unconditionally.

when you found yourself in the aisle, with every visitor rising up and your gaze drawn to his who stood at the altar, your gaze fell on his pocket. typically, the groom would have only one flower in there, if any at all. but nanami had a modest arrangement of flowers in his pocket, including red roses, white lilies, pink tulips, and white gardenias—that's when you knew you'd made the right decision.

because the right choice would always be him.

the red roses represented the first date, the white lilies and pink tulips were bouquets you received every time he walked by the bakery and returned home to you, and the white gardenias represented every time the two of you reconciled after a fight.

to be loved is to be known.

to be seen.

and he would spend the rest of his life proving that he did.

a/n: my first time writing for nanami!! i hope u like it lol. be sure to check out my gojo fanfics if you enjoyed this one x

love,

seven.

©777gojosgf

[kesujo]

You're the Light to my Shadow

As you’re heading out the café, you discover it isn’t empty.

“Hi, Seulgi.” Seulgi jumps, causing a smile to form on your face. “Finishing up some homework?”

“Hi Chanho! Yeah.”

“We’re closing and it’s getting dark, shall I walk you home?”

“Yes!” Before you can process how hastily her response is, Seulgi is already packing up her backpack. “Let me just—” She reaches for her coffee but ends up knocking it off the table instead. “Oh—” the cup clatters onto the ground, depositing its contents onto the bottom half of your pants. “—oh my god! I’m so, so, so sorry!”

You can’t help but smile at Seulgi, red-faced and profusely bowing. “Seulgi, it’s—”

“I ruined your—I-I’ll buy you new ones!”

“—fi-what? You don’t have to.”

“Are you sure?”

Your smile turns into laughter at her guilt-ridden expression. “Yes, I’m sure. Should I get you a new cup? Pumpkin cappuccino with less sugar and ice, right?”

“What? No! I couldn’t ask you to do that!”

“It’s alright, today’s batch is gonna get dumped anyway.”

Without waiting for an answer, you whisk away into the backroom, returning a minute later with a new cup of Seulgi’s drink and fresh pants.

“Oh, thank you so much!”

“No problem. Ready?”

You can tell Seulgi wants to say something, but the space you give her to say it lasts five, ten minutes. Eventually, Seulgi pipes up, “Thanks for walking me home. And, for this,” Seulgi motions to her cup.

“Don’t mention it.” You can see words starting to form on her face, but the only sounds that fill your ears are rustling of the orange-yellow leaves of the trees planted along the sidewalk and the accompanying howling wind.

One question. Nothing more.

“Something on your mind?”

When Seulgi turns to you, you can’t tell if her pink cheeks are from the cold or from her flustered state. “Um! … yeah … so, Chanho…”

The bashful way she diverts her gaze, the way her naturally-pouty lips part to allow her tongue to briefly loll out of her mouth, it takes everything in your power to resist the urge to call her ‘cute’.

“Did I make that cappuccino poorly?”

“What? No! Of course not!”

You smile at that. From the offended expression on Seulgi’s face, you may as well have called her kittens ugly. “So, Seulgi…”

At this point, her cheeks are even pinker than the hot-pink cropped T-Shirt she’s wearing. “D-Don’t tease me!”

“Sorry—”

What are you doing? After that question, nothing more. Right?

“But, u-um!” You turn back towards her. “Are—Are you and Sunmi … dating?”

Sunmi, your manager, who claimed she could handle closing by herself when you know she dreads closing shifts the most. “No.” Seeing the relief on Seulgi’s face fills your chest with dread.

This isn’t happening. Not with Seulgi.

“So, then, um … are you single?”

You almost can’t hear those last few words over the wind that threatens to whisk away her denim cropped jacket. Honestly, you wish you hadn’t.

You were being so careful, though: teetering on friendly but never flirtatious, treating her with respect but only befitting a regular customer. Where did you go wrong? And now, Seulgi: the one girl you can’t take your mind off, the one girl that threatens to upend your pact against the fairer sex you’ve upheld for the past year, the one girl you know you should’ve stayed away from but couldn’t escape from, with her magnetic, bright, bubbly personality and that luminescent smile that turned her eyes into upside-down crescents and your heart to mush.

“Yes.”

“Oh!”

A few seconds of silence hung in the air after that. In the corner of your eyes, seeing her shivering causes the urge to give her your jacket to swell—but, now, more than ever, you need to resist.

“Th-Then, then, um, do-do you want to go, um, are you free—”

“Seulgi, I’m sorry.” Seeing her face turn from shock to on-the-verge-of-tears tugs at your heartstrings. But, you have to say this. “I’m … I’m really sorry. Someone like you shouldn’t involve yourself with someone like me.”

“Wha-What?”

You can hear the tears in her voice and steel your heart. “Sunmi. I’m not dating her now, but I used to. Back in high school. Do you want to know why we broke up?” I can do this. “She caught me flirting with her friends. Plural.” This is for the better. “You might’ve thought I would’ve stopped after getting caught the first time, maybe even the second time, but I didn’t. I just kept doing it.” The thought of never seeing her again fills you with dread, but not as much as the thought that she may end up like any of your exes. “What’s worse, Sunmi forgave me. She just, she kept forgiving me and forgiving me, and every time she would, what did I do with her trust, her love?” You can feel Seulgi’s eyes on you, but you refuse to meet them. “I quashed it.” Disdain, disgust, horror—what kind of expression must she be making at you? “Not just Sunmi, either. All those women whose hearts I toyed with, not stopping even after getting hospitalized a few times by the brothers and fathers of those exes, all to satiate my own ego. That’s the kind of person I am, Seulgi. Whatever you see on the surface is just masking this ugliness underneath. I’m just a disgraceful, lonely, insecure excuse of a man who doesn’t deserve—Seulgi?”

Hearing her sniffling is what causes you to inadvertently turn your head towards her and finally get an answer to the rhetorical question you posed to yourself earlier: her eyes shimmering and the area around them red, her pouting lips pulled into a deep frown, tears freely running down her cheeks, over the fingers that are failing to contain the flood pouring out her eyes … she’s looking at you with sympathy.

“I-I’m, I’m, I’m so sorry…” You don’t respond. You’re unable to. What about that story could have possibly aroused such a reaction from her? “…it’s—it’s just, I can s-see the pain in your eyes and hear it in your voi-voice, a-and it’s just, it’s so sad to see that be-because you’ve clearly changed so much, bu-but, you look like you still can’t forgive yourself…”

The autumn chill picks up, and Seulgi shrinks in the face of it. You catch yourself midway into taking off your jacket, undoing the few steps closer your feet had taken you towards her. You remember complimenting this exact outfit on her before. Surely, Seulgi didn’t choose to wear it despite the cold weather because of that, right?

“I don’t understand.” Seulgi sniffles again and looks up at you. “How … is that your reaction to what I said?”

“W-Well, you’re being so vulnerable for me, how can I react an-any other way?”

As she finishes her sentence, another cold gust of wind assaults her, and seeing her curling up pushes you over the edge. Her health is more important than my concern over her reaction to this.

When your jacket comes over her shoulders, her eyes widen and she looks up at you again, with considerably more pink cheeks this time. “O-Oh! Thank you so much, but aren’t you going to be cold?”

“I’ll be fine.”

As the two of you trod along the leaf-ridden sidewalk, Seulgi’s sniffling dies down. “Do you remember my first time at that café?” Caught by surprise at the sudden question, you take a second to shake your head in response. “The previous night, I didn’t fully plug my phone in, so I missed my alarm and overslept. While showering, I discovered I was on my period, and even worse, my coffee machine broke. Nothing was going right that morning: I had to go back to my apartment because I had forgotten my homework first, and then my phone second, so when I saw that café on my way to class, I decided I needed at least something to push me through that morning. I remember I was double-checking my backpack when my name was called; in a rush and a complete emotional mess, when I went back to my backpack with coffee in hand, I tripped on it spilled my coffee all over you.

“I remember I was ready to cry right then and there. But, I didn’t, because your response to being drenched with a medium-sized cup full of icy-cold coffee wasn’t to be angry, but to be empathetic. You very kindly reassured me that you were ok, checked to make sure I was fine and that my backpack didn’t get wet, and then even offered to remake my coffee free of charge. For you, it was probably just another Monday and I was just another customer. For me, that day, you saved me.”

Seulgi is glowing. It’s like the universe is shining a spotlight on her: the orange sunlight mixes with the orange of the autumn leaves to create a halo effect around her entire body. Seulgi is an angel, and you are basking in her divine presence.

“It’s true that I don’t know much else about you. For five months, I couldn’t find the confidence to ask for your name, and when I finally did, you smiled and pointed at your name tag and I wanted to die right then and there.” The corners of your lips twitch. “But let me tell you what I do know: you’re kind, you’re considerate, you’re friendly, you always try your best, you show empathy and warmth to even customers who are yelling at you for something that isn’t your fault, and you always try to smile. And that’s all that matters to me.”

Did that really happen? How do you have no memory of it?

“So, please, stop beating yourself up for the mistakes you’ve made in the past. Everyone deserves a second chance, especially those who have self-reflected and are striving to be better.”

Seulgi’s very being is blinding. You’ve met women like her before—you’ve ruined women like her before—but none nearly so vibrant. You, on the other hand, are a shadow. Opposites. Never meant to be together.

“That doesn’t matter. I don’t deserve someone like you—”

“Don’t say that!” You jump at how forceful her words are. In the short few months you’ve known Seulgi, this is easily the sharpest tone you’ve ever heard her use. “Don’t just give up on yourself so easily! I don’t know how bad of a person you were in the past, but why does that still matter?”

It hurts. The more reflection you’ve done, the worse you felt. You’ve long since accepted you don’t deserve forgiveness.

“Sunmi forgave you for what you did in the past, right?” You nod. Your eyes land on the shadow the setting sun casts upon the two of you. “But it sounds like you still don’t.” You nod again. But Seulgi makes it sound so easy. Could you…? “Then, let me help. Let me show you that you’re worthy of forgiveness. Or, it doesn’t have to be me, but let someone help you.”

“But … I mean, I didn’t even mean to…”

Seulgi catches the tail end of the unspoken sentence and softly smiles. Despite the redness around her eyes and slight puffiness on her face, her smile, illuminated by the setting sun in the background, stops your heart. “But that makes all the difference, right? That you didn’t mean to?”

A shadow can’t exist without light. Maybe you aren’t opposites after all. Maybe…

“Seulgi, I think you’re wrong.”

Seulgi blinks. “What?”

“It does have to be you.” The confusion on her face slowly transforms into understanding, then of wide-eyed excitement and exuberant joy. “You’re the only one—”

You’re cut off by Seulgi suddenly throwing herself onto you. And, for the first time in a year, you give into your desires, wrapping your arms around her slim frame.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you! I promise, I’ll make it up to you!”

Last year, a particularly bad breakup kickstarted your journey of self-growth. Now, surrounded by the same beautiful array of autumn leaves, Seulgi has somehow reached into your chest and pried open the iron cage you’ve surrounded your heart with. “No, Seulgi. It’s me who needs to promise to make it up to you.”

[endless-ineffabilities]

dragonfire

Aemond Targaryen x f!reader

masterlist ▪︎ word count: <1k

The one in which Aemond Targaryen ponders over an existence without you. (i.e. a little something caused by my recently resurgent Aemond brainrot)

"So, what are you planning to do?"

Daeron's question hangs in the air. For a moment, Aemond fails to grasp the subject of his inquiry. But his mind, as it always does, goes back to you.

Having returned from visiting you in the library, Daeron found him smiling to himself in the godswood, like some pathetic, lovestruck youth.

"I am not sure what you mean." Aemond turns, regarding his younger brother with a lingering look.

"Will you ever confess to her how you feel?"

Has he become that easy to read? How he feels. Has he even admitted that truth to himself? He casts his gaze downward, kicking over a pebble with the sole of his boot. "It has not crossed my mind," he says. A lie, plain as day.

Daeron tries another approach, knowing how difficult it is to elicit the best reaction from his stoic brother. "Well, look about the matter in this way - what would your life be like without her in it? What if you never knew her at all?"

Aemond scowls in distaste. He is not too inclined to be analysed in such a way. But his thoughts have been influenced by Daeron's questioning. What would everything be like without you?

He would still be Prince Aemond Targaryen. He would still possess his royal devotion and sense of duty.

But without you?

"It would not be right," Aemond confesses. "It would be a plain cruelty to myself were I to entertain the thought. I suppose I would go on, as I am, but I have no desire to."

Days without your companionship, and nights without the thought of you intertwined with him in his chambers? How dull it would all be.

"She's like... like my dragonfire. My strength. Only she can ever have any true power over me."

Only you would be permitted to. The influence of his family, and of his status - they stand no chance. If you asked him to renounce his titles, and to sail together on a ship to Yi Ti, Aemond knows he would do so. For you.

And it terrifies him. He was raised to be methodical. To not be rash in his decisions. He has always upheld his family and his personal ambition above all else. But what terrifies him even more is the possibility that you would not be so receptive of his affections. And that, one day, duty would demand him be wed to another Lady who isn't you.

So he is resolute is not letting that happen.

"I would be the most content man in all of the Seven Kingdoms if I could live out my days with her as my Lady wife." The sentiment flows out of him as naturally as taking a breath. "If she will have me," he adds, softly.

Daeron smiles in agreement, before offering the simplest course of action. "So take her to be your wife. There is no doubt in my mind that she will have you."

"It is not that easy."

"What if some other Lord will ask for her hand - "

"Then I will take pleasure in feeding Vhagar her next meal."

Daeron simply laughs, patting Aemond on the shoulder. "Take heart, brother. No Lord can surpass you."

"Hmm." Of course not.

"I shall take my leave," Daeron says. "Oh, and if you change your mind about her, I would not be averse to asking for her hand, myself."

Aemond stiffens, glowering at Daeron with a storm brewing in his eye. For a split second, he considers having to duel his brother, if it would come to that. Felling him, if need be. For you.

His own kin. He has done it before, after all. And this time, it would be for the greatest of causes - the battle for your heart.

"Gods," Daeron bursts in a fit of laughter. "Aemond, I only jest. We do not need any more infighting in our family than we already have."

Aemond exhales in relief as his brother departs, leaving him with the realization that he would actually resort to such extreme measures in order to be with you.

Seven hells, he is well and truly fucked.

[syntheticavenger]

Fire We Make - Two

Where, oh where, is this muse coming from?

Previous

Warnings: 18+ ONLY - language, PTSD, manipulation, mentions of stalking/tracking, mentions of past drugging, brief mention of a pregnancy test but that's about it. I've dropped quite a few Easter eggs in here to lead up to the next chapter.

Word Count: 3.2K

Soft Dark Nomad! Steve Rogers x Reader

Summary | Separating from your husband is harder than you realize, despite warnings from your therapist that you need to give yourself closure and keep your distance.

The paper cup filled with coffee warms your hands, hovering near the assortment of cookies, finger sandwiches and chips. 

Your rain boots squeak lightly under the linoleum, watching others come in and embrace, some heading straight for the table as they load up their plates with food. You know that for some, this is the most food they’ll have today – maybe even this week – and you feel a twinge of guilt for even helping yourself to a cup of coffee.

“Hey.”

Sam Wilson stands behind you, cautiously looking at your face. It’s an embrace that you’ve needed, fighting back the tears as he holds you close. You’d had your line drawn in the sand once Steve had retired, no more Christmas cards mailed by Tony Stark or Rhodey. An invisible upheld law that you swore your allegiance to Steve, even if you had wanted to bring them back together to talk, to smooth over the past.

They’d done that for you.

Sam has been your only lifeline to that world that you barely saw, shielded from it much from Steve, who didn’t want to talk about work, especially when he would repeatedly tell you that you were the only place he would call home.

Home, he would tell you, meant that he didn’t want to scar you with the things he had seen and done. Shutting you out intentionally from that world meant that you had to talk with Sam to understand how to bridge that gap.

At your sigh of relief at his handsome face, he opens his arms to you, hugging you tight as he knew that was exactly what you needed.

“I know,” he affirms, so simple and yet poignant that it makes you squeeze your eyes shut to keep from crying.

When he pulls away, he looks around at the people milling behind you.

“This was a drive for you, right?”

He’s right.

Usually his VA meetings are in the city but you’ve been able to track down when he goes to the more rural areas, places where veterans are forgotten and assistance has faded away over time. Sam doesn’t speak about the Sokovia Accords, nor does he grant any interviews now that he’s firmly told reporters that he wants to be left alone. Rumors of Steve giving him the shield were true, one hanging up in his home that he sometime looked on with pride when you and Steve would visit.

For now, he seems at peace.

“A little bit of a drive,” you admit. “I guess I just… needed to see a friendly face.”

“Have you talked to him?”

“Not for a week.”

Sam gives a low whistle, nodding his head. He had been the first person to approach Steve about his issues. For a time, Steve had been attending the meetings – sometime with you and sometimes without you – or so he told you.

“He stopped coming,” Sam informs you. “I guess I thought you’d been able to get him some more professional help.”

“He didn’t like the doctors,” you answer quickly, your brow furrowing at his first comment. “When did he stop coming?”

“About a month ago. He stuck around after a meeting, told me he felt like you and him were in a better place and that he felt that he could move on. I just assumed that you were both figuring things out.”

“I moved out.”

“I know. He told me. Last time I saw him, he mentioned that he was going to remodel the house. Something about keeping himself busy.”

You frown at the news.

“He didn’t mention that to me.”

Sam shoots you a careful look, eyebrow raising as he asks his next question.

“Are you okay?” he asks carefully.

“That’s a loaded question.”

“It may need a loaded answer. Steve isn’t okay. I know that,” Sam confides in you quietly. “He hasn’t been himself since all of this went down. I know he takes his hits and he moves on but this isn’t like anything I’ve seen. It’s obsessive behavior. That’s not healthy. Do you have people who are looking out for you?”

“My family. Friends.”

“You know you’re always welcome here. I mean that,” Sam emphasizes. “But I want you to be careful, okay?”

“Do you know something I don’t?”

“He’s always been obsessed with you. He loves you. More than anything else in this world. But obsession is never a good thing.”

“That’s why we took a break,” you admit, looking down at your cup. “I… I can’t help him in the way he needs.”

“It’s like those airplane safety videos. Put your own mask on before you help others. I know you love him but right now, you need to love him at a safe distance. I’m not trying to scare you, I just know that you two have been together for a while and Steve can be a charming bastard. But I didn’t like what I saw that last month and I didn’t like the idea of him remodeling a house for both of you to live in. He didn’t even mention it to you.”

A chill takes over slightly, making you sip your coffee before you nod.

“I promise. I’ll take care of myself first.”

-

Mona turns up the volume on the TV, the news reporter standing in a wooded area.

“The man has zero recollection of how he found himself in the forest, let alone the last two days. Authorities are still investigating but it is believed the man had been drugged but he is expected to make a full recovery. More to come on this breaking story.”

Mona turns the TV off, making a face as she hands you a glass of wine.

“This world is shitty. I hope he’s turns out okay. Can’t even go have a drink anymore,” Mona sighs. “No more news for me, that shit was depressing. How about we order take out for dinner? What are you in the mood for?”

“I don’t know. My brain is all over the place.

“I can look. But I’m glad you’re here.”

Mona places her glass of wine down, her expression changing for a moment when she clears her throat.

“Look, I need to ask this and I know it’s going to sound crazy but I need you to hear me out, okay?” she warns gently. “It’s been bothering me for a while.”

“What?”

You’re confused, unsure of why this conversation has shifted so suddenly.

“The other night I tried to call you and it kept going to voicemail. I know you told me you were tired but you haven’t been sleeping lately.”

“When?”

“A week or so ago. You told me Steve had been trying to see you and then you didn’t answer your phone and I got worried. I know I saw your text that you were going to bed but…” Mona sighs, shaking her head. “I know it seems weird but the text didn’t even seem like you. You usually call me when you’re awake to let me know you’re alright.”

“I was just tired.”

You repeat the words mentally in your head, trying to remember the night that Steve had shown up at your apartment. You remember eating, Steve talking to you about trying to get back together. You don’t remember texting her, Mona’s hand reaching out to touch yours as your memories get fuzzy from that night.

“Was he with you that night?” Mona asks, a lump forming in your throat.

“For a little,” you confirm, Mona’s mouth tightening at your words.

“Do you remember anything from that night? Texting me back to say you were tired? You didn’t sound like yourself”

“I was tired, Mona, I -”

Mona grips your hand tight.

“I know your texting style. That wasn’t you. And the fact you can’t remember anything else about that night?”

“I told you, I was really tired.”

Mona doesn’t let go of your hand when you try to reach for your phone, to try to get some confirmation that you aren’t blacking out at your memory.

“I need you to listen to me. I think he drugged you.”

-

Your boss doesn’t bat an eye when she grants you a two-week personal leave. She’s been engrossed in the news, a recipient of a Stark grant and she’s been waiting for the proverbial shoe to drop. The personal leave, she had told you with a sympathetic nod, is the first step in getting a divorce once you have a clear head.

You don’t have the strength to talk to Mona, to tell her that the test she had pressed you to take is negative.

You’ve cancelled your session with Doctor Maren, rescheduling for next week so that you don’t get a phone call. As it turns out, it isn’t just your friends who are worried about you. Court appointed therapy is a precaution, as you were told when you’d filed. Monitored to make sure you complied.

Dialing Sam’s number, you wait for him to pick up, which he does on the second ring.

“Hey, everything okay?”

“I don’t know,” you respond, tears filling your eyes almost too quickly at his question. “I think… I don’t know… I -”

“Are you home? I can come to you or we can meet somewhere.”

“I’m not home,” you rush out. “I’m… I’m a hotel. I just… I can’t be there.”

“Where do you want to meet?”

“I can meet you at the VA.”

“Sounds good, I’ll make sure you’re on the list.”

“Sam?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

-

Steve pulls down his baseball cap, ignoring the woman standing next to him in the aisle, her overt bending making him look in the other direction. His cart is nearly full, stopping to look at the various colors of paint. The new room he is working on needs a lighter color of paint than he first thought, picking up two swatches as the woman clears her throat.

“That’s a pretty color.”

“It is,” Steve agrees, looking between both of them.

Your favorite colors have always been green or blue, various shades in between. The woman looks over, giving him a smile.

“I like the green,” she announces. “Very earthy.”

He notices her eyes settle on his wedding ring, her smile fading for a moment.

“Lucky woman,” she says with a nod in his direction. “Does she have a favorite color?”

“She does. It’s blue.”

“I’d go with blue then.”

He stops for a moment, grabbing the bucket of paint and placing it into his cart. The woman watches him carefully, as if trying to figure out where she’s seen him from before.

For a moment, he entertains the thought of her possibly being at the club that you had visited, wondering if she could place his face. Steve knows this is out of the question. He’d been the only one there to take him out.

He’s seen the news. It’s a pity that the man survived but Steve knows it was by pure luck.

Still, the idea makes him wonder what she’s thinking. He thought he would have gotten tired of the beard but it affords him the anonymity that he didn’t know he needed. It had taken some getting used to, especially the way you had first looked at him when you’d seen him when he’d landed from Wakanda. Clean shaven was now a thing of the past, gone with the hopes and dreams that he would be back to the man he used to be.

“Well, you have a nice day,” she calls out, admittedly defeated that he isn’t going to be baited.

“You too.”

He notices how short her skirt is, watching her turn toward another aisle. A woman on the prowl, looking for her next paramour. He knows you would never be like, stalking down the aisles of home improvement stores, batting your eyelashes at random men. Your loyalty is one of the reasons he was drawn to you, how trusting you were and devoted.

He looks down at the supplies in his cart, eyeing the various rolls of masking tape, zip ties and other things inside, including the thick pieces of lumber that he still has to pick up. 

By the time he gets to the registers, he’s already mapped out his plans for the next few days. He’s been back on a cleaner routine, working out in the early hours of the morning and late at a night when he isn’t working tediously on the house.

He smiles to the cashier, paying in cash as she returns it.

“Has anyone ever told you that you look like Captain America?” she asks, handing him his receipt.

“You’re the first one. You have a good day.”

-

“What happened to Bucky?”

“Deprogramming in Wakanda. Steve took him there himself and when he came back… he was a different person. Made sense. You thought your best friend was dead for decades and he’s brainwashed. That would mess anyone up.”

“And Tony?”

“I wasn’t there,” Sam sighs, straightening up in his chair. “I just know the fight was brutal. I saw videos.”

“I know,” you respond quietly. “I saw them. He doesn’t know that.”

In Sam’s office, it’s a safe space, his degrees and certificates hanging on the walls, pictures in glass frames of his travels around the world.

Him, Bucky and Steve at your wedding.

“Do you ever reach out to Tony?”

“No,” you deny quickly. “Pepper sent me a letter once. Handwritten. She said she missed him. Missed us.”

“Did you ever answer?”

“No,” you swallow. “Steve found it. He wasn’t ready to respond.”

“But it was addressed to you,” Sam points out. “Did he tell you he didn’t want you to answer?”

“I called her. She didn’t answer and then texted me that Tony was around.”

Sam swears under his breath, a look of disgust on his face.

“You’re collateral damage.”

You try to shrug, the loneliness creeping up again. Chewing on a slice of pizza, your thoughts go to Mona and how you had promised that you would tell someone. You still haven’t told Sam why you’re there, the need to admit why you’re occupying a seat in his office rising like bile in your throat.

“When I saw Steve last week, I let him inside my apartment to talk.”

Sam’s head tilts at your admission.

“Go on.”

“He was still trying to get me to change my mind on the separation but.” Pausing, you aren’t sure if you can form the words. It doesn’t feel right, like you’re about to drown.

“What happened?”

“We were eating and I woke up the next morning. I don’t… I don’t remember what happened after we talked.”

Sam goes still, knowing he’s trying to process what you’ve just told him.

“He drugged you.”

“I don’t know,” you reply, Sam shaking his head. “Sam, I -”

“Did you report it?”

“No,” you answer quickly. “I can’t report him, are you kidding, he -”

“Drugged you. Did you get checked out?”

“Sam, nothing happened. I took a pregnancy test, it was negative. I was in the clothes I had gone to work in, no sign of a condom, no sign of anything. I just… slept.”

“As far as you know.”

“He wouldn’t do that.”

“Wouldn’t what? Not get consent while you’re asleep? You’re right, that doesn’t sound like Steve. But the drugging doesn’t sound like him either and here we are, talking about it.”

Silence falls, Sam muttering to himself before he stands.

“Obsessive behavior,” he says to you. “Is that why you didn’t want to stay in your apartment? Does he come there often?”

“I haven’t seen him since I told you. Sam, I just need guidance. He’s hurt and he won’t listen to me. If he did… drug me… I can’t be alone with him.”

“He needs to be taken in.”

You shake your head sadly.

“He wouldn’t spend but a few hours there. And he doesn’t need to be thrown into a jail cell, he needs help.”

“That help can’t come from you.”

“I know.”

“Let me talk to him,” Sam offers. “I can get him into treatment, we can plan this out.”

“He won’t listen.”

“It’s that or jail,” Sam reminds you. “Do you understand the severity of what you just told me?”

“It was to help me sleep.”

“You can’t keep making excuses for his behavior. So, let’s say he was trying to help you out. Did you ask to be drugged? To be placed into bed?”

At your silence, Sam shakes his head.

“I’ll make sure you have an escort back to your hotel. But you have to promise me, and I mean promise me, that you won’t contact him or entertain the thought of contacting him until he gets help.”

You nod in response.

“I promise.”

-

It’s late when you get back, Sam’s right hand, Joaquin walking you to your hotel room, waiting for you to get inside.

Overly tired, you head into the bathroom to take a shower, stripping off your clothes and stepping inside, the hot water beating against your skin.

Stepping out and wrapping towel around your body and one around your hair, examining your face in the mirror gives you pause, noticing your sad expression. You force yourself to smile, touching the apples of your cheeks before you sigh, brushing your teeth in defeat. For that minuscule moment, you almost felt like yourself, finishing up your bedtime routine and slipping into a pair of leggings and an oversized shirt.

Stopping in your tracks, a bouquet catches your attention on the table. It’s red roses, beautifully tied together with a blue bow.

You hadn’t heard anyone come in, let alone the open and close of the door. Inching closer, you pick up the card, reading what it says in a typed font.

I miss you.

Swallowing hard, you’re unsure of what to say or do, taking a step back to look around the room. It’s comfortably quiet, even as you open the closets and look under the bed.

Calling the front desk, you hope that it was a mistake, getting ready to give them a piece of your mind about a flower delivery that was not authorized. For a moment, you relax. It’s probably for the wrong room and a mistake can still be fixed. You’ll double bolt your door tonight and check out and get another hotel.

“Hello?” you greet the front desk when a friendly voice comes on the line. “I’m in Room 476. I was in the shower when flowers were delivered and I had the do not disturb sign on.”

“Oh no,” the voice says, dismayed. “I am so sorry, let me look it up. I apologize, that is unacceptable.”

You can hear the sound of keys on the keyboard being punched, the line going quiet.

“I’m so sorry but it doesn’t appear that there were any flower deliveries in our system today. I’m going to send up our manager and security to address this with you if that is alright.”

“Yes. Please.”

When you hang up, you go back to the flowers, noticing the blue ribbon.

It’s in your favorite color.

[yes-i-write-fanfiction]

Some opinions down below on why I think these specific characters would be funny to see in this scenario;

-Nightbeat is a detective. Gotham is full of crime. See where I'm getting at? Also, it would be funny if he just casually figured out the batfams secret identities, went "neat" and then just moved on to the next mystery.

-Rodimus would 100% try to become a vigilante. Creates a heroic looking holoform (that looks way to flashy for anything in Gotham) and uses his alt mode as his own batmobile. Batman would find out about his true identity by the end of the week.

-I want to see Megatron accidentally create a criminal empire. Like, he tries so hard to appear like a normal human while trying to find a way home, maybe even opens a cafe or some shit as cover, but he keeps on attracting the attention of criminals. Suddenly he's got hundreds of goons devoted to him, following his every order. Call that warlord rizz.

-Whirl for the same reason as Megatron except he does it on purpose. He wanna do crime! Be a rogue (but one of those cool ones like Poison Ivy and Catwoman)! And punch the Joker. Fuck, he really hates the Joker.

-It would just be funny to see Prowl in this hellhole of a city. Gotham's crime rate is 100%, the cops are corrupt, the law is upheld by vigilantes. Look me in the eyes and tell me that he wouldn't have a fucking seizure. Would kill the Joker for stress relief.

-Look, Starscream would hate the city but he would make it work. He'd make his own place, forge connections, create his own criminal empire. And totally try and seduce Bruce Wayne. You know, for the money and power.

-Grimlock gets found by Robin. Robin sees giant, fire breathing, robot t-rex and goes "hmm, yes, you're mine now" and keeps him a secret from the rest of the batfam.

-Brainstorm would fucking thrive in Gotham. He's a mad scientist, he would have so much fun taking apart the weapons and equipment of Gotham's rogues and vigilantes. Not to mention creating his own. He'd steal the batmobile only to return it two days later, upgraded and decked out with the most insane tech.

-Soundwave has an adoption problem. Batman has an adoption probem. You see my vision? Also, I want him to adopt Robin. And Robin just accepts it because now he gets to hang out with Ravage, Buzzsaw, Laserbeak and Ratbat. Alternatively, just Ravage in Gotham because that would be funny too.

-Rewind thinks Gotham is fucking WILD and he's planning on getting it all on tape so he can show his friends later. He stalks the batfam on their patrols, sneaks into the secret bases of rogues, just to get those good action shots.

-Similar to Prowl, Ultra Magnus would be so fucking vexed by Gotham but while Prowl goes "I FUCKING HATE THIS CITY AND EVERYONE IN IT!", Ultra Magnus has a major case of "I can fix them".

[grandlinedreams]

Ok but reguarding Law’s MIA s/o: What if Luffy and the Strawhats found them and calls Law on the den den mushi and is just like, “Oi, Torao! I found (nickname)!” Just both Law and s/o reconnecting over the snail trying not to burst into tears.

Oh YES we love soft closure that's good and gentle 😌 thus, this will be the sequel to [this]

[Heads up!: mention of injuries, hurt/comfort]

Some divine being must have your back. That's the only reason you can think of as to how you aren't dead ㅡ and how you've landed in the care of an ally, no less.

"We may not be an alliance anymore, but that doesn't mean we're not friends, right?" Luffy's grin is bright and wide, patting you on the shoulder and laughing sheepishly when Chopper snaps a warning about jostling you too much.

"They almost died, Luffy! You need to be gentle!" Chopper fusses with the thick band of cloth around your upper arm, and you glance at Luffy.

"You have a transponder snail, right?" He blinks and then nods, and you swallow. "Can I borrow it? I need ㅡ I need to call Law."

He probably thinks you're dead, or that you've been captured. It's Nami who approaches with the transponder snail, and your heart hammers as it begins the familiar 'purururu'.

Law answers after a minute. "What do you want, Strawhat?"

Your lips part, but there's a lump in your throat now, the rise of tears in your eyes at hearing his voice.

"Hey Traffy, you'll never guess who we found! We found [nickname]!" Luffy speaks for you, and you stare at your hands as Law processes Luffy's words.

"[Name]...?" Law's voice is soft, softer than you've ever heard it ㅡ as if he's afraid to believe Luffy, that the other captain is feeding him false hope.

"Law," you croak, voice thick with tears. "I'm ㅡ yeah, I'm here."

"Are you okay?" Law can hear the pounding of his own heart, the rise of emotion at hearing your voice but being unable to see you ㅡ and his chest aches when he hears a tiny hiccuped breath from you.

"I'm okay," you say, "I'm so sorry, Iㅡ"

"Don't apologize." Law doesn't care that his crewmates are watching him at the moment, relief at knowing you're okay, you're alive trumping everything else. "Strawhat. We need to arrange a rendezvous so I can take [Name] back."

You scrub at your eyes as you listen to Law and Luffy discuss where to meet up, vaguely aware of Robin's hand on your back, trying to soothe you.

"Are you okay?" Nami's voice is gentle once you've calmed down and you register that the transponder snail is quiet. It hurts that you hadn't gotten to say more to him, gotten to say goodbye ㅡ but your heart hammers at the prospect of seeing him again, and you've had enough of goodbyes for a while.

"Yeah," you answer at last, "I'm just ready to go home."

ㅡ

The rendezvous point doesn't take long to reach, the Polar Tang having coincidentally been in the area, searching for marine presence and any scrap of you they might happen upon ㅡ and you watch as the familiar yellow metal breaches the surface.

Anxiously, you scan the small deck, waiting ㅡ and then the door opens, and your heart stops. Law.

You're tempted to vault over the railing of the Sunny, take your chances with the waves just to get to him faster, but Law seems to have the same idea as a blue aura encapsulates the space between both ships ㅡ and then he's in front of you.

Given how private he is, you expect Law to wait until the two of you are alone to express raw emotion, untempered by social expectations ㅡ but his arms are around you, squeezing you tightly, and you get the feeling he was a lot more than just worried about you.

Now that Law has you back, a little worse for wear but ultimately alive, he can admit that he was terrified. That he'd lost someone again, upheld his personal belief that all he knows how to do is lose the ones closest to him ㅡ but you're alive.

You're here, in his arms, safe ㅡ he presses his face against your head, closing his eyes as he uses you to anchor himself, tethering away from 'what ifs' and all the worst case scenarios he's entertained over the last few days.

"Missed you," you mumble, and his grip tightens.

"I missed you too."

[merakiui]

[viii.] ᵗʰᵉ ᵇᵘᵗᶜʰᵉʳᵉᵈ

serial killer!jade leech x female!reader cw: yandere, unhealthy behaviors/relationship, kidnapping/captivity, descriptions of murder/death, violence, strangulation chapter vii│chapter viii (you are here)│chapter ix

Today’s Thought - As biology would have it, the moray eel is cowardly by nature. Somehow this facet doesn’t apply to a certain someone. What he lacks in cowardice, he makes up for in cruelty.

The three days that follow the first feel like a blurred eternity, and you only know it’s been three because Jade’s explained your daily horoscope thrice now. The first: Do your best and your days will be fortuitous. You’re walking the path to success. The second: You may feel gloomy with the shifting skies. Rainfall may evoke sadness, but the secrets you hide from that important someone will seem even sadder. And the third (today’s prediction): There’s a chance you might find luck in uncertain situations.

These horoscopes might have provided you with a shred of relief if it weren’t for the fact that your slumber has been mostly dreamless ever since that last obscure nightmare, and so you don’t have anything to compare them to. No jellyfish. No strangers sitting at dinner tables. No blue hues for you to contemplate.

You’ve read through A Hiker’s Guide twice in the span of forty-eight hours, committing fungi facts to memory as if they’ll serve any purpose while you remain shackled in captivity. But it keeps you occupied and smothers any morbid thoughts threatening to spill into your skull. Which is what you really need right now—the sweet sense of comfort and contentment.

Jade upheld his end of your bargain yesterday when he poked his head inside the bathroom, presenting the white suit coat Azul had worn the night he faux-proposed. You kept your complaints to yourself, silently scorning him while he draped it across your shoulders. It’s an expensive brand sewn from luxurious fabrics you’d never be able to afford no matter how many extra shifts you pick up at The Devil’s Delight.

Out of habit, you’re attempting to calculate how many times you’d need to sleep with Azul in hopes of convincing him to buy you an outfit of equal grandeur. Your logic tells you multiple times for every pretty button and precise stitch, but your heart tells you it would only take a simple question and a sincere smooch to string him along. He opens his wallet for you as easily as you open your legs for him. 

But that’s just part of the agreement, you remind yourself, petting the silky sleeve like it’s a cat. Stop thinking about him. Focus on other things.

You lift your gaze towards the door.

I wonder what Riddle’s up to. We were supposed to meet up on Saturday. He’s probably angry I couldn’t make it. Or maybe he’s worried I’m not showing up to work. Shaking your head, you scoff bitterly. No, he’s not worried. He’s Riddle. He never worries about distractions like me. He has everything laid out so perfectly. You toy with one of the exquisite cuffs on the jacket, twisting it between your fingers. I guess when you’re that meticulous you never have to worry about anything because, no matter what happens, you’re following a familiar schedule. So even if things don’t go to plan, you can just move to the next item on your list.

You slouch against the wall and sigh.

Maybe it’s better to live repetitive days. It’s boring, but it’s safe.

Before you can start weighing the positives and negatives to that thought, a noise from below resounds. You scramble away from the sink, mindful of your bandaged ankle, and force yourself flat like a pancake, your ear pressed against the tiles. The air is still, your breath is hitched, and then there are footsteps. Four in total. You assume he’s taking off his shoes because there’s a disconcerting quiet that follows. Seconds later, you strain to hear the door as it shuts and locks with a click. 

And then there is more silence. 

Something’s not right, you think, chewing your lip. Anxiety bubbles in your blood, volcanically volatile. He’s not coming upstairs.

You push yourself up onto your arms and retreat to the space between the bathtub and sink.

He always comes upstairs to check on me when he gets home. Right away. So why isn’t he? What’s going on? You shake your head and dig your nails into your arms. Don’t panic. Maybe he’s preparing another meal? But he usually eats before work. At least, that’s what he’s done with me ever since the first day. Maybe he didn’t have work. Maybe he went out to do something. But what? Cover his tracks? Kill someone? Make sure there are no witnesses from that night? Kill someone? Your grip on Azul’s jacket tightens. Relax. Take a breath and think about it logically. He can’t do anything rash. Not when he’s just kidnapped me. Someone must have made a missing report by now, so he has to be careful.

Your eyes slide about the room, inspecting the framed sketches once more. What if it’s the afternoon? He could make up any time he wants and I’d have no choice but to believe him. He could’ve gone out for lunch, or he met up with Azul for the daily walks we usually do. Right. Azul. He has to know something’s up. He has to… Wait.

The realization is glacial, stabbing through your skull mercilessly: He won’t suspect anything because disappearing like this is a routine he’s all too familiar with. In his eyes, I’m just—

Footsteps on the stairs shake you from your theorizing, and you brace yourself for the sight of him. You hope to shrink yourself to a size so small and imperceivable that no one, not even the most keen, cutthroat killer, could find you. You succeed in huddling in on yourself, a ball of tightened nerves just waiting to unfurl at the slightest hint of danger. Sweat beads on your brow and slithers down your spine. The hair on your body stands on end, as if expecting the swift strike of a terrifying tragedy.

Something’s not right.

The knob turns. There he stands in the sliver of space between door and bedroom, backdropped by dim lamplight. He’s dressed plainly in a black hoodie and sweatpants of the same color. It’s arguably the most casual you’ve ever seen him look. And in his arms, held bridal style and slumped like a boneless fish, is a woman. 

Your gaze is drawn to the way her shirt stretches tautly over her abdomen—over the rounded dome that is her stomach—and dread crystallizes your blood. Suppressing a shiver, you meet his stare. A smile slowly crawls onto his lips, and then he steps deeper into the bathroom, pulling the shower curtain aside and lowering the woman into the tub. Tape is plastered to her mouth, and her wrists and legs are bound with expert knots. Just looking at her and the state she’s in makes you sick with discomfort.

“Who… W-Who the hell is that?”

“A roommate,” he replies, all too smooth. “It’s only temporary, so you needn’t get so territorial.”

There’s no way. He’s actually planning to… 

Bile rises in your throat, and before you can stop yourself you’re leaning over the toilet to retch. Saliva dribbles down your chin, landing in the bowl below in a downpour of gross, acidic rain. A petrifying tremor shudders through your body, and you steady yourself against the toilet, coughing until tears gather in your vision and your throat aches. You smack your hand against the handle to flush the physical manifestations of your horror away. Down it goes, never to be seen again.

“Your little parasite doesn’t seem very fond of her,” Jade remarks, standing over you like a patient reaper of death. “There can only be room for one, no?”

You crane your neck to peer at him. “F-Fuck you.”

He smiles thinly, his eyes creasing with manufactured mirth. “It’s just a coincidence.”

“Coincidence, my ass.” With a dark scowl, you wipe the spit from your mouth with a shaky hand. You drag yourself away from the toilet, tasting residual vomit on your tongue. “You can’t hurt her. She… She’s pregnant, Jade. There’s no way you can—”

“She isn’t you. If I recall, I only agreed to keep you alive.” Jade slips his gloves off, drapes them in the basin, and then lathers his hands with soap. His movements are mechanically meticulous, as if these motions have been preprogrammed. Even the way he dries his hands is unnatural. Too prim. Too perfect. “As far as I’m concerned, she’s nothing like you.”

“Why? Because she didn’t kick your ass when you showed up to kidnap her?”

Jade exhales an amused breath. “Of course not.” His eyes frost over when he turns his stare on you. “She never got the chance. Besides, if my ass had been sufficiently kicked, you wouldn’t be here right now.”

“I hope you choke on a fingerbone.”

“That would be most unfortunate. I’ll be sure to eat carefully.”

Peering at himself in the mirror, he smooths his hair down. You didn’t realize it was tousled to begin with. Now that you’re looking, his entire person seems…messy. Even that stray strand falls on the wrong side.

He definitely didn’t go to work, you conclude, studying his features from behind. He’s too casual. It’s hard to imagine Jade in anything other than uniforms. Did he go out with that lady? Maybe not. He seems like the type to dress nicely for dates. So a sweatshirt and sweatpants… They’re both easy to move around in, and he’s wearing dark colors to blend into the night. Did he grab her when she was least expecting it? He said she wasn’t given a chance to fight back, so a struggle was nonexistent. 

You shake your head, unsatisfied with your deduction. I’m missing something. His appearance is messy, but he’s always so clean. So why is he messy? This isn’t making sense.

“How’d you find her? You must’ve planned this in advance.”

“I assure you I’m not seeing other women behind your back.”

“Like hell I’m jealous, you creep.”

He chuckles and leans against the sink, his arms folding easily. “A magician never reveals his secrets.” “Magicians and murderers are two different things.”

“Aren’t they skilled in making things vanish? Both captivate their respective audiences as well.”

“Do you not see how vastly different the two are?” Groaning, you rest your head against the wall. “Did you seduce her?”

“Someone’s curious.”

“What’s her name? Do you even know where she’s from or what she’s been through? You’re taking an entire life away, Jade.”

“Two, actually.”

“That’s even worse! Do you hear yourself right now? You’re insane!”

“Has it ever occurred to you that your morals might not have any influence on what I do?”

He’s doing this on purpose. He could’ve brought anyone home, but it just had to be a pregnant lady.

“You’re sick.”

“Do you truly think so?”

“No sane, healthy person would do this.”

Jade feigns a sad pout and wipes nonexistent tears from his eyes. “To hear you say such things… My heart breaks.”

I hope someone chops you up, you lunatic! Then you can know what it’s like!

“So what’s the plan? She’s stuck here like me?”

“Not for long.”

“You’re really going to kill her?”

“Is that not obvious?”

You glance at the tub. I have to do something. But what? You look around the bathroom, eyeing the frames, the sink, the toilet, the walk-in shower, the tiled floor… Can I kill him? Shatter one of the pictures, grab the biggest shard of glass, and then—

Jade bends down to your height. “You needn’t look so pensive. There’s nothing you can do, and if you try anything I’ll be sure to slaughter you in the most gruesome way at the end of these nine months.” He smiles like it’s not the most sinister threat. “And I’ll watch you bleed out slowly while I cut your skin away in delicate slivers. So if you value a quick, painless death, do yourself a favor and keep your hands to yourself.”

You drag your legs into your chest. You sick freak. His eyes crawl down your face to observe your bandaged ankle. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you.

“That should be enough of a reminder.”

“I’m not stupid. I’m not going to do anything. I can’t.”

I want to, though. I have to.

But there’s the shackle and the chain, restricting your movement and trapping you in the bathroom. There’s also the very heartless serial killer, who values your life as much as one does a meal. Voraciously. That’s as far as his sympathy extends. He doesn’t care about you or your nonexistent baby. You’re not even a person.

To him, you’re just supermarket meat plucked from the street. The most dangerous game he’s ever hunted.

“Good to know.” Pleased with your submission, he rises to his usual height and makes for the door. “Does it hurt?”

“A little.”

“Allow me to retrieve some painkillers.”

“If it puts me to sleep—”

“Rest assured. I have no intention of doing that. Too much and you may never wake again. That, and I’d prefer a meal without unnecessary baggage.”

“Then don’t drug me if you want fresh, healthy meat.”

He says nothing, merely smiling in reply, and departs through his bedroom. You listen to his retreating steps and then, after determining he’s made it downstairs, you drag yourself over to the tub. You yank the tarp-turned-curtain aside and peer down at her.

“Excuse me?” You reach in to nudge her arm. “Miss, are you awake? Please wake up.”

She doesn’t stir. Your gaze sweeps over her face. She doesn’t look bruised or battered. In fact, she’s in much nicer shape than you were when Jade took you.

It couldn’t have been a date or any sort of formal event. Not by chance either… So what is it? What am I not seeing?

You stare at her bump and frown. I’m pretending to be in her position, but she’s actually pregnant. If anyone deserves to get out of this alive, it’s her and her baby.

You shake that thought out of your head next, replacing it with something detached. You have to be logical. In tragic situations, it’s everyone for themself. What if your roles were swapped? Would she feel the same? You’d hope so, but maybe she’d be just like you—someone who’d do anything to survive, even if that was at the cost of another’s sacrifice. It’s not fair, but there’s nothing you can do. She’s doomed.

“Fuck,” you mutter, curling your fingers around the lip of the tub.

I can’t watch an innocent woman die. I have to do something.

Footsteps draw near. You scramble to your corner. Jade returns with two tablets and a glass of water. You down the painkillers in one gulp.

If it knocks me out, at least I won’t have to see anything.

You rest your forehead against your knees. “I wish Azul was here.”

Why am I saying that? Do I really want him here? Maybe Cater would be better. Or Riddle. Anyone but Azul.

“My apologies. The withdrawal must make you feel immensely itchy.” He peers at the tub. You realize you forgot to pull the tarp back to its original place. “Consider this the beginning of your detox.”

“You’re selfish, you know that? I have my entire life ahead of me. I have—” you rub the cold sapphire set into the ring on your finger— “I had a wedding to look forward to. Someone I was going to marry. A baby! And you…” Before you can stop yourself, the tears are falling. Weeks of pent-up emotions overflow. You wipe hopelessly at your face, feeling pathetic for crying in front of him when he could care less, but the rivers continue running. “Y-You fucking took that away from me! And I can’t—it’s all so you can feed yourself.”

You dig the heels of your palms into your eyes and weep like a child. The voice in your head soothes you: You have time. You can still get out of this.

When you pull your arms away, you find Jade gazing at you. “If I’m as selfish as you say, what does that make you?” He pulls his sweatshirt up and over his head, and then you see it. The dress shirt.

A pit opens in your stomach. You feel sickness scraping at your throat again, and the sensation persists when he shucks his sweats next.

All this time, he was in formal attire…

“I have no interest in your affair with Azul. Rather, I find the entire thing quite circular. You were loosely attached once, but now you’re engaged. And then what? Are you going to run away when he does something unfavorable? You have the makings of a most atrocious bride.” Casually, as if this is a conversation held over afternoon tea, Jade folds the clothes and sets them on the towel rack. “I suppose that is just the nature of love. You return like the leashed pet you are and you let him love you because you are just as foolishly fond.”

That’s not true. You’re wrong. I don’t love him. I’ve never loved him.

“Ah, but this is just mere speculation based on what I’ve witnessed.”

“Stalker.”

“Not quite. Do you know how many times I’ve helped you—drunk, dazed, vulnerable you—and you never thought otherwise? I put you to bed. I did your laundry. I stayed by your side and cooked breakfast in the wake of your hangover. For so many years, I’ve beheld the (Name) who thinks she’s loved by all because she doesn’t love herself enough.” At your horrified expression, he laughs. “You like to babble when you’re inebriated. It’s very entertaining… What was it you told me a few months ago? That you’re a nothing human with an empty, ugly heart who isn’t worthy of Azul’s boundless generosity. That you pawn it for lust disguised as love because you can’t afford the real thing. That you—”

He sidesteps the glass you throw at him. It hits the floor and shatters with a splash. Glass shards slide across slick tiles. He watches you silently, his countenance unreadable.

“Shut up!” Odium darkens your face. You inhale a ragged breath, collecting what’s left of your tattered ego, and add in a shaky voice, “You don’t know me. You’ve never known me.”

“Perhaps not.” Jade leans down to smile at you. He’s close, but he doesn’t touch you. You challenge him with a mean scowl. “But I will soon.”

Before you can question that, a soft groan interrupts your discussion. Your head snaps over in the direction of the tub. Jade does much the same, only he moves slower. There’s a pregnant pause, tension crackling in the air, and then there’s movement. The woman struggles in the bath, her screams muffled against the tape. You wince, understanding her horror.

I know what that’s like.

Jade helps her sit up. She resists, shaking her head desperately and shrinking away from his hands as if they’re something monstrous. They are, technically. Her eyes meet yours then. Even though it’s a wordless exchange, everything you need to know shines on her tear-stained face. Her brows are pinched together in stressed disbelief. She’s trembling.

“If you promise to be quiet, I’ll remove the tape.”

Upon hearing that familiar phrase, you shudder. It seems to have the same effect on the woman. She looks at him and whimpers.

“P-Please listen to him,” you speak up, nodding encouragingly. “Don’t fight. It’ll make it worse.”

She spots your bandaged ankle and gazes at Jade with new terror shining in her brown eyes. They’re very pretty. Big and beautiful, almost like marbles. To think the last things she’ll ever see with such doll-like eyes are a hungry monster and a hapless captive.

Jade peels the tape off slowly and, unlike you, she keeps her mouth shut. A wise decision. You don’t want to think about what he might do to keep her quiet.

“There. That wasn’t so hard, was it?” Jade sets the sliver of tape aside. “Now then, I believe introductions are in order.”

“I… I don’t understand,” she whispers, pressing herself against a corner of the tub. “Why am I here? You told me you’d take me to a doctor. Y-You said you’d help me—”

“He’s a liar.” You fold your arms over your chest and huff. The woman’s expression falls. “It’s not your fault. I thought he was good, too.”

“So then—I’m just—why am I here? W-Why are you here?”

Jade steps in front of you to block your view of the distraught woman. “(Name) is my housemate—”

“Not by choice.”

“Still a housemate nonetheless,” he continues. “You’re here because I’m in need of a meal.”

“You’re…hungry? Is that… You’re serious? Is that really what this is about?” She shifts awkwardly in her restraints. You feel bad for her, even more so when you catch the hope bleeding into her voice. “Then, if that’s the case, I’ll cook something for you and you can let me go!”

Jade shakes his head.

You peer past his legs at her. “He’s going to kill and eat you.”

He frowns at you. “And I was intending to bask in the suspense…”

“You’re the worst. Genuinely.”

“I don’t understand… You’re…” She looks between you and Jade. Her eyes gloss over with fresh tears. “You’re going to kill me…”

“Indeed. Ah, but don’t look so disheartened. So long as you continue being good, I’ll grant you a painless death.”

“N-No way… I… I don’t wanna die. Please. M-My baby—I can’t—”

She breaks off with a choked sob. You watch her crumble without a word. It hurts to see her shoulders shake with every rattling inhale. It hurts even more knowing you’re just as stuck but temporarily spared. You glance at Jade to gauge his reaction. Like always, it’s impossible to read him. He’s always been like that, even before you found yourself trapped here. Smiling so sweetly, as if he isn’t a murderer, he would speak to you like a normal person, tease you like a friend, care for you when Azul couldn’t. You were so certain he was your friend—not just by way of association through Azul either.

He hid it—this massive, life-altering skeleton—like an expert. How did you miss it? What did you fail to catch?

Nothing. Because he never gave any indication of what was locked up behind unassuming closet doors.

Now you know better. So does this woman.

“I won’t tell anyone. I promise I won’t, so please let me go. Please, sir. My baby…”

Jade remains unfazed. “(Name) already tried those lines. Care to guess how well they worked?”

Landed me nine months on death row. 

She hangs her head in defeat. “I can’t believe it… I’m actually… This is it.”

You rest your head against the wall and sigh. Jade stares a moment longer before striding to the door.

“I’ll give you time to get acquainted.”

With that, he shuts the door. It’s very obviously a test. He’s probably waiting on the other side, listening in to learn what sort of incriminating information you might share. Not that it matters if she hears it. She’ll take all of this new knowledge to the grave or, in more literal terms, Jade’s stomach.

“I’m sorry you’re caught up in this,” you murmur, tracing invisible circles into the floor. “What’s your name?”

“M-Marisa.”

You glance at her. “It’s beautiful just like you.”

“Oh. Well, t-thank you.” She offers you a shy smile. “My mother named me after the sea. It was her favorite place to visit whenever she needed inspiration. She was an artist, and the sea was her biggest muse.”

“That’s sweet. I wish I knew the lore behind my name.”

“It’s still pretty without the backstory.”

“I guess so.”

I never really put much thought into my name. Does it matter if it’s pretty or ugly?

“Actually… It’s kinda ironic. I don’t like the sea. It scares me, so I stay away from it.”

“The sea itself or what’s in it?”

“Both?” She attempts an awkward shrug. “There are scarier things out there, but there’s something unsettling about the ocean. Maybe I’m silly for thinking that.”

“You’re not. It’s normal to be scared of things we don’t understand.” Like right now. But you keep that part to yourself. “I can’t relate. I love the sea. The lost history, the creatures, the mysteries… It’s all so fascinating.”

“Really? You’re braver than I am!”

“I’m just way too passionate. That’s all.”

Am I? I said I’d be a marine biologist and that’s what I’ve been studying all this time. But…

Marisa sighs. “You’re lucky. I’ve always wanted to find something I could be passionate about.”

“I’m sure you’ll find something one day.” And then you pause. “Or… Um.”

She pastes another hollow smile on her face. “I thought I could be passionate about school, but I couldn’t do it. I dropped out and tried a few jobs. Everyone told me it’d be easier to get married instead of running around like a headless chicken, but that didn’t feel right. I thought I’d be passionate about things like motherhood and babies, but I dunno. I’m already so far along, but I haven’t felt anything yet. No excitement or anxiety. Just emptiness. And I know that’s a terrible thing to feel and think—we’re supposed to love the things we create! I don’t even think I truly love my boyfriend. I’m horrible—I know!”

“You’re not horrible. The truth is—” You stop yourself before the words can slip out. I don’t love Azul. I’m not even pregnant. “I don’t know if you’ll ever figure any of that out, but I know you’re a good person. You obviously care about these things. If you didn’t, you wouldn’t be so worried.”

Marisa sniffles. “Thanks…”

“I can help you find your passion. There’s so much to do in the city. I’m sure something will catch your interest. Oh! Have you ever been to Siren’s Heartache? It’s a karaoke place. My friend and I used to go all the time.”

“I’ve been there once!”

“It’s amazing, isn’t it? My friend would order the craziest stuff off their menu. He hates sweets, but he’d get all kinds of sugary drinks and snacks for the hell of it. Said it didn’t matter because it’d look cute on camera, so no one needed to know if he enjoyed it.”

“He did it for the pictures? That’s it?”

“Yep! He loves photography. He’ll do anything to make sure he gets the best angles and lighting.”

“Wow… I don’t think I could be that dedicated.”

“No? Then what about schedules? My other friend used to be on these super rigid schedules. I’m sure he’s still on them now, but back then it was really suffocating. He’s always been so organized, though. It’s impressive.”

“Isn’t that too restrictive? Doesn’t he have any time for fun?”

“Would that be better? A free life filled with ups and downs or a rigid life you can plan around?”

“Both sound just as bad.”

“Isn’t that just life?”

She breathes a sardonic laugh. “From a pessimist’s perspective, sure.”

“What kind of life would you want?”

“Is it bad to say I want something easy?”

“No fair. You totally stole my answer!”

“Then maybe we’re both bad.”

“Yeah…” You stretch your legs out and flex your toes on your good foot. If that’s bad, then I’m the worst. “I guess we are.”

She giggles. “You’re supposed to disagree!”

“Oh, oops. Sorry.”

“It’s fine. I don’t think it’s so bad to want an easy life. If it were up to me, I’d want it to be like one giant tea party. That way everyone can come together for tea and tiny cakes.”

“And you wouldn’t have to work, so who cares if you’re rich or poor!”

“Exactly! There aren’t any expectations. You can be good or bad. Empty like me or passionate like you. It’s all just conversation at the end of the day.” She gazes at you, and her features relax into a real smile. “I wish we could’ve met sooner. You seem like a fun friend.”

Am I really? I feel like I’ve been nothing but trouble for Riddle and Azul. Even Cater…

You hum your acknowledgement before nodding towards her belly. “Have you thought of any names?”

“Nothing yet. I’m not very creative and I don’t want anything basic either. Something memorable would suffice.”

“Like your name.”

“Right! Only nothing connected to the sea.” Marisa chuckles sheepishly. “It wouldn’t mean anything to me.”

“Maybe it doesn’t have to mean anything significant. As long as it comes from the heart and you like it, it should be fine. At least, I think that’s how it works.”

“I have no idea. This is my first time.”

You nod. Somehow it feels like I’m indirectly lying to her…

“You’ll find a name that sticks one day. When you do, let’s get together and celebrate.”

“At the Siren’s Heartache?”

“Wherever you’d like.”

She gasps. “How about a tearoom? There’s this really cute one just outside the city. I go there all the time. The owners are the nicest people I’ve ever met! If we go, we can have our own tea party. You can bring your friend who likes photography. I’m sure he’ll get lots of pretty pictures.”

That’s impossible. We both know there’s no chance of—

“Marisa!” She startles at the urgency in your tone. You look and sound as if you’ve just cracked a cold case. “That’s it!”

“What is?”

“Your passion! Tea parties!”

“I always thought that was more of a hobby…”

“You can be passionate about hobbies. I’ve never gone to a tea party myself and I don’t know what that involves aside from drinking tea and eating snacks, but it sounds like a good time.”

“Oh, it’s the best time! I love dressing up for it, too. On nights when I knew I’d be going the next day, I arranged my outfit in advance. What jewelry I’d wear, what makeup I’d put on, what purse I’d bring… I could spend hours trying on my clothes and picking different pieces. And their afternoon tea sets—they’re everything! You have to try it if you go! I love their egg sandwiches. Well, everything they serve is delicious.”

Your lips quirk up in a playful grin. “See? You’re not empty.”

Stunned, Marisa sits there in the bath. “You’re right,” she mumbles. “I never realized it, but I love tea parties. I love talking with people over food and drinks. I guess it came so easy to me and I did it so often that I didn’t think anything of it.”

“Maybe we can add ‘socialization’ to the list of passions?”

She laughs, her hair bouncing with the movement. It comes right from her chest—authentic amusement—and it’s a musical sound. You wish there was another way. Jade may have shown you mercy, but you’re certain it won’t be the same for her. Even with these unlucky odds, you’re determined to try. It’s the only thing you can do. Try and hope that something goes well.

You gesture for Marisa to turn around. She almost questions you, but you hold your index up to shush her. She stares at you, her lips pressed in a tight line, and nods her understanding. As quietly as she can, she shuffles in the tub until her back is facing you. 

“Hey, what’s this tearoom called again?” you ask as you reach for the biggest glass shard.

“It’s called Portobello.”

“Like the mushroom?”

“Mhm! It’s forest-themed. They’re famous for their chaga tea.”

“Huh…”

Of course it’s mushrooms. You glance at the door. Do you hear that, you freak? Sounds like the perfect place for a mushroom fanatic like yourself.

“Do you like mushrooms?”

“They’re okay. I don’t eat them often. I have so many other foods I prefer…” You trail off as you saw through thick rope with the jagged glass. “Actually, there was this one time I got fried chicken from the city. I was stupid drunk and nothing was open, so my fiancé took me to a convenience store. It was cheap, but it was so yummy! I guess everything is when you’re that gone… Anyway, he was so mortified when I woke up the next morning wanting more. That was the only thing I remembered from that night.”

“Why was he so embarrassed? I think convenience store food is great!”

“Right? You understand it.” You sigh and shake your head, recalling that memory with startling clarity. “Azul is… It’s hard to explain.”

“But you’re engaged?”

“I’m crazy, aren’t I? Marrying a man who gets flustered over fried chicken from the convenience store. He ate it in a fancy suit, too. What a weirdo.”

“He sounds funny.”

“The funniest. It was our first year together as…contractual obligations. He was so determined to make a good impression that he banned junk food from his life. We broke that dumb rule that night. I think that was the first time I saw the real him. He’s cute when he blushes.”

“Contractual obligations? Why not partners?”

You cough awkwardly. “J-Just an inside joke. He’s a businessman.”

“Ah, that makes sense.” She flexes her fingers just as you manage to cut through the first knot. “That’s sweet.”

“What?”

“You and him.”

“What about us?” Your hand hesitates, gripping the shard with new force. Any tighter and you might slice your palm open.

“You must’ve been so hungry, and he went out of his way to make sure you were fed even if it meant breaking his rule.”

“That was just—he hates having to owe people stuff. He was just repaying a favor.”

“My mother used to tell me a good man will visit for your best, but a great man will stay for your worst and everything in between.”

“I…guess.”

No way Azul likes me at my worst.

You shut your mouth and resume your previous motions. With her hands now freed, you lean over the tub to work on the rope binding her ankles.

“What about your boyfriend? You said you’re not sure if you love him?”

“I don’t know what I want. We’re happy being together without any rings or ceremonies, but I feel like that’s not enough. I feel like I’m not enough.”

“Maybe you should take your mother’s advice.”

“I will when you do.”

“H-Hey!”

She giggles. “I’m kidding. I think… I’m glad you have someone who cares. It’s no fun being alone all the time. Sometimes it’s good to share your peace with others, even if that’s getting fried chicken from the convenience store with a weird guy on a chaotic night.”

You laugh, but it comes out choked.

Yeah, Azul’s weird.

And then the first tear lands on her foot. It isn’t long before more rush forth, blurring your vision. You manage to cut her free from the rope just before it becomes impossible to see clearly. When you meet her stare next, she smiles. It’s strained with sorrow.

Why are you crying? She’s just a stranger.

You throw your arms around her and sob quietly into her shoulder. She runs her hand along your back. It’s meant to soothe, but all it does is remind you of the limited time you have with her.

I’m crying because she’s a stranger. Because she’s someone I’ll never be able to know more than this.

“Escape,” you whisper as you pull away, pressing the shard into her hand. “And when you do, wait for me and we’ll have our giant tea party.”

She nods, her eyes shimmering with sadness. “You can count on it.”

When Jade returns, syringe in hand, it’s to a room of suffocating silence. You’ve no idea what its liquid contents are, but it can’t be very pleasant or safe. Regardless, you don’t intend to find out. He steps through the door, looks squarely at you, and smiles. Your skin crawls.

Calm down. It’ll be okay.

“You took your time.”

“Did I? My apologies if I kept you waiting.”

“Have you ever had mushroom tea before?”

He pauses. “Mushroom tea?”

So he wasn’t listening in. Either that, or he’s just hesitating for effect.

“I’ve never had it before, but I’d assume someone with your palate would’ve tried it.”

He laughs humorlessly. “Is there a reason for this assumption?”

“You like mushrooms. Sounds like something that’d be right up your alley.”

“You would be correct.” Jade taps the needle, eyeing the liquid within the plastic cylinder. “I’ve had it before, yes.”

“Was it good?”

“Quite.”

His gaze drifts towards the empty tub and you panic. “W-Will you bring some for me to try?”

He blinks at you. An amused smile pulls his lips apart.

You can’t stop the scowl that forms on your face. “I can’t control what the baby wants.”

Just a little longer… Keep your eyes on me.

“I’d love nothing more for you to try it.”

“But?”

“But there isn’t nearly enough credible information detailing whether chaga is safe to consume while pregnant. It would be very unfortunate if you injured your parasite on account of my negligence.”

“Someone did their research.”

“Indeed.”

“So what’s a good substitute? I want mushroom tea.”

“Pouting about it won’t fix anything.” He reaches to pull the curtain away, and you lurch forwards. The chain rattles. You pause with outstretched arms. Jade watches you with a frown. “Is something the matter?”

You lower your arms. “No… N-No, sorry. Nothing’s wrong. I’m just…hungry.”

“As am I, so if you could stop stalling for her sake I would appreciate it.”

A bone-chilling cold blankets the bathroom.

Your laugh comes out brittle. “Who’s stalling?”

It happens so fast you wish it was slow motion. Maybe then your reaction time would’ve been better. Marisa springs out from behind the door just as Jade turns to view her. She shoves him with as much strength as she can muster, swiping at him with the glass shard. Somehow she manages to drive it into his arm. Taken by surprise, he grunts and shakes her off. The syringe clatters to the floor and you dive to snatch it before he can. With Jade temporarily thrown off, Marisa flees from the room as quickly as she can. You look on with wide eyes, the syringe clutched in a tight fist.

She’s doing it… She’s actually escaping!

Jade curls his fingers around the glass lodged in his skin and rips it out. Blood spurts from the cut, crawling down his arm in a red slither. The chunk rests on the tiles in front of you, and it fills you with a proud satisfaction knowing he’s injured, if only partially. By the time you’ve blinked, he’s already hurrying towards Marisa. She’s about to wrench the bedroom door open, her freedom just beyond the confines of his home, but he seizes her wrist and yanks her away.

Just like the syringe in your hand, your heart drops.

She yelps and twists in his hold, flailing blindly. The scene is eerily reminiscent of your scuffle with Jade—the one you’d gotten into when he revealed himself as the intruder in your apartment. You were drunk then, wholly incapable of fending him off, but Marisa isn’t. She has a chance. She can escape. There has to be a way for—

You watch her fall, cringing at the resonating thud as her back makes contact with the floorboards. Jade’s hands are around her throat before you even know it.

“N-No… Wait. Wait, stop!” You lurch towards them, but the chain only allows you to go so far. You strain against the pull, grabbing at the door frame in hopes of breaking out of the shackle’s restrictive hold. “Jade—”

Marisa’s choked gasp cuts you off. You stare at her hands as they claw at Jade’s in animalistic desperation. Her eyes are so wide you see white; her mouth is open in a silent scream. With Jade on top of her, pinning her to the floor and squeezing her neck with ruthless precision, she can only kick her legs out and produce a haunting garble of sounds as she battles an impossible enemy.

“Stop! Let go of her!”

You grit your teeth and tug against the cuff. It digs into your skin and leaves you aching from the sting. Tears sprout along your lash line, and you cry out in pained frustration. Your agony doesn’t reach Jade’s ears. Or maybe it does and he’s just tuning it out. You’re unsure until you catch sight of his expression. A blank, empty slate—that’s what he is. There’s something murderous smoldering in terrifying two-toned eyes, but his lips are pressed in a firm pout and his brows are pinched together. Not from any sort of distress but, rather, from the physical exertion. His forearms flex, every muscle riddled with tense adrenaline, and his fingers dig into her throat to cut her circulation.

From where you stand, struggling against your restraints, you think his pupils are blown wide. He looks predatory. Unhinged in a feral sort of way. Like a wild animal who’s just pounced on his prey…

A wild animal. That’s what he is right now. Something unbound by human morals and law. A creature led only by instinct—by the intrinsic desire to slaughter and feast.

“Jade!” You give another determined tug to no avail. “Jade, please—you can’t do this! She’s pregnant! She has a boyfriend—a life! You can’t!”

Your voice is shrill, scratching through your vocal chords as if it intends to shred them to ribbons. You’ve never heard yourself sound so panicked before. Never known the crushing devastation of being so close and yet so powerless.

No matter how much you scream, Jade continues to strangle her. You can’t bear to watch any longer. Sinking to the floor, you lean against the wall and press your hands to your ears. You don’t want to hear Marisa’s wheezing breaths. You don’t want to see her struggle. You don’t want to see Jade as he kills her in front of you.

You don’t want to be a witness. You want out.

After minutes of torturous asphyxiation, her thread of life is snipped and she finally fades away. Moments later, urine soaks through her shorts and pools beneath her in a puddle. You look up just in time to see him release her and rise to his full height. Heaving a sigh, Jade tucks his dark hair strand behind his ear. Marisa lies lifeless, a husk of the once bright, bubbly woman you interacted with before this. Now she’s gone.

“Y-You’re a monster…” you manage through thick, anguished sobs.

He killed her. She’s…dead. Jade killed her. I just watched her die and there was nothing I could do and I…let it happen.

“This could’ve been avoided. I was going to give her an easy death, but you forced my hand.” Jade steps around you to pick the syringe up. “Let’s add another rule to our list. Seeing as I’m not allowed to touch you, it’s only fair that you keep your nose out of my work in return.”

Dead… She’s dead. Marisa is…

“Does that sound agreeable, (Name)?”

There’s a ringing in your ears—the warning tick of a clock or the foreboding chime of a death knell. Amidst every overwhelming sensation and haywire emotion, self-preservation echoes in your head: I’ve got to get out of here.

You blink through blurring vision. Are you crying? Numbly, you touch your face. The tears are there, wetting your cheeks in copious amounts. Something’s scratching at the back of your eyes. It’s not enough to feel like sleep, but it’s a familiar sensation. You’re certain you’ve felt it before. But when?

You can’t stop crying.

She’s dead. She’s dead. She’s dead. She’s dead.

You suck in gulps of air.

I should’ve done more. I could’ve done more! There had to have been something—logically. You have to look at it logically. She was doomed to die the moment Jade brought her here.

You dig your nails into your arms.

We were going to have a tea party. I was going to help her find more passions. We were going to be friends…

You watch Jade bend down to her height and press two fingers to her neck. Suddenly, there are two Jades and both are tilting. He glances at you, but his words don’t reach your ears.

I was going to save her.

Your head hits the floor with a thump. The world goes dark.

Unlike previous times, the dream aquarium is bursting with life today. Moon jellyfish float peacefully behind sturdy glass. A manta ray glides smoothly through the water in laps. Fish of all colors and shapes are caught up in the current. The glow from the tanks dyes the hall in a cool ultramarine.

It’s quiet here. Safe. Comforting.

You’re lying on the floor, dressed in a clean hospital gown, and there is an entire galaxy of jellyfish above you. They’re set into the glass ceiling, their translucent bodies bobbing up and down in hypnotic patterns. You blink once and the blue brightens as if breathing alongside you. You blink again and this time a woman pokes her head into your visual field. Her milky-white eyes, though piercing, don’t frighten you. She blinks one eye at a time and her irises explode with color—now a vibrant green. Her long, black hair is tied back in a braid that sweeps over her shoulder. Tiny stars are twined throughout.

When she speaks, she has the same voice as the woman from the intercom.

“Today’s color is blue. As vast and wide as the sky and sea, as deep and dark as water’s soul, blue is the color of trust and sincerity. It is the color of bruises and sadness. It is the color of loneliness. It is the color that has finally led me to you.”

You stare at her, spooked speechless.

“Hello again, (Name).” She smiles and offers her gloved hand. “It’s been a while. Many years, in fact. I thought I’d never be able to catch you.”

You hesitate. Can you trust her—the woman you’ve spent so many dreams pursuing? There’s no one else here in this hall. She’s your only option. Swallowing your fears, you grab her hand and allow her to hoist you to your feet.

“My name is Marmoris. Ah, I must inform you that I’ve taken the form of someone familiar, so please note that this isn’t the current me. My true form is…not very pleasant. I wouldn’t want to startle you with it.”

“The current you? Your true form?” You draw away from her and bump into the tank behind you. Turning around, you gaze at the image slowly forming within murky waters. It’s…Jade’s bathroom. And there’s Jade, stooped over Marisa’s corpse. He’s looking at you next. You place your hand against the glass, but the scene doesn’t disappear. “W-What is this? What’s going on?”

Marmoris joins you at the tank. Her reflection warps with a myriad of aquatic traits. At one point, you think you see fins where her ears ought to be—shadows of wispy tendrils where her lab coat once was. “You’ll have to forgive me. There was no other way. You’ve already seen too much.” She shuffles closer to you. Her hands cover your eyes next. “Please don’t look. I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you.”

You squirm out of her hold. The picture presented in saltwater clouds in and out of clarity. “Protect me? I don’t understand. What do you mean by—”

“There’s not much time. I can’t keep you in here any longer than I already have.” She grabs hold of your hands and squeezes them. She looks sincere enough, but you can’t get past the fact that, though she claimed to take on the appearance of someone familiar, you can’t recognize this woman’s features.

She’s a stranger.

Before you can protest further, Marmoris leans in close and presses a kiss to your forehead. Her lips are frigid. The transient security of the desolate dream aquarium melts away, taking you with it.

“I promise I’ll explain everything the next time we meet. When we do, look for me. I’ll be waiting.”

You jerk awake with a gasp. Your hands fly to your throat on instinct. Slowly, while catching your breath, you peer around the bathroom. Marisa has been moved to the tub and Jade’s in the process of cleaning the floor. He glances at you. His arm is bandaged.

“Welcome back.”

You shoot him a withering look. “Eat glass and die.”

“Wouldn’t that please you?”

“It would,” you whisper weakly, more tears spilling over. “It really would.”

For the first time in a while, you can’t recall any slivers of your dream.

[allthecanadianpolitics]

A Canadian humanitarian organization says its key water-aid truck was bombed in Gaza this week, and the federal government now says it has contacted the Israeli government for "more information" on the incident.

Minister of International Development Ahmed Hussen said in a post on X, formerly Twitter, on Saturday evening that the government reached out to Israel after hearing that the truck operated by the International Development and Relief Foundation (IDRF) had been bombed.

"The rapid and unimpeded passage of humanitarian relief for Palestinian people is critical. Upon hearing that IDRF Canada's water truck had been bombed, my office reached out to them and we have contacted the Israeli government for more information on the incident," Hussen said, calling attacks on humanitarian aid workers and operations "unacceptable."

The response comes after the aid agency called on Ottawa to mount a full investigation into what it believes was a "targeted" incident. The IDRF, a registered non-profit based in Toronto, told CBC News that the incident is believed to be the first bombing of a Canadian aid truck during the current war in Gaza. [...]

"The basics of humanitarian principles are not being upheld and that's a real issue." [...]

As of last week, Canada would not say if it is still pursuing further investigations into the airstrike on the World Central Kitchen convoy. Global Affairs has not responded, nor has it said whether it wishes to involve its own investigators in any probe, or to have direct access to the Israeli soldiers involved. [...]

Continue Reading.

Tagging: @vague-humanoid, @newsfromstolenland, @fairuzfan

Note from the poster @el-shab-hussein: The settler colony known as "Canada" is refusing another to investage another settler colony for murdering one of its settlers. What a fucking joke this gaggle of states is.

[fantasticsandwich]

yandere influencer x fem! reader (pt 2)

Don't you know you're the apple of his eye?

Your fingertips were raw from constant nipping, the consequence of a nervous habit that resurfaced whenever your textbooks lay sprawled open like the wings of a fallen bird. Molecular biology had become your latest adversary in the quiet battleground of your small, well-lit room. Your eyes darted across diagrams and text while your brain fought to corral the stubborn facts into memory. They spun around, lines at a time, before coiling into helix lattices. You stared at the wall, watching as the facts floated across your vision like cell clusters inside the vitreous.

“Adenine pairs with thymine,” you muttered under your breath. You chewed on what was left of your nail, wincing slightly at the sting, but it was a pain less sharp than the prospect of failure. The glasses perched on the bridge of your nose slipped down, and you pushed them back up with a knuckle, not daring to smear the pristine lens with sweat-glossed fingers.

The sudden buzz of your phone shattered the stillness. It vibrated against the wooden surface of your desk insistently, the noise disproportionately loud in the silence. Cillian was the first person you thought of, and with him in mind, a wave of anxiety rolled through your chest. If it was him, calling you out for one of his impromptu gatherings, how could you say no without igniting his subtle ire?

Sighing, you ignored it. If he said anything, you would pretend to have been asleep.

“Focus,” you scolded yourself, yet your hand betrayed you, reaching for the device. The screen lit up, casting a glow on your tense features as you swiped to read the message.

‘Hey Y/N, can we meet? - Rian.’

It wasn't Cillian. Relief mingled with curiosity, loosening the tight knot of worry in your stomach. But why would Rian want to meet so suddenly? A simple inquiry, yet it stirred a flutter in your heart that felt oddly like hope.

Your fingers hovered over the reply button, pulse quickening at the possibility of an impromptu meet-up. A meet-up meant stepping away from the books and into a moment that was unplanned, untailored, something you hardly allotted time to.

"Sure, where?" you typed back, thumbs almost slipping on the screen in your haste. You pressed send before the seeds of doubt could take root, before you could convince yourself to decline for the sake of study or appeasement.

⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅∙∘☽༓☾∘∙•⋅⋅⋅•⋅⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅

You found him waiting on O’Connell. The bridge was pulsing with Dublin's lifeblood, tourists snapping photos, street performers drawing crowds, locals weaving through it all with purposeful strides.

You saw him, but you were distracted, mesmerized by the crowd indifferently swimming around, swallowing you whole. You wished you could've delved into all of their psyches; mentally or otherwise, it was impossible to know what was wrong with someone. Some people were saints. Some were the worst people alive. Some were average. Some knew what they were and longed to appear otherwise. You were delighted by humanity’s infinite potential. Whether good or bad, humans held an even capacity for both. Someday, you would have to save the life of someone who didn’t deserve to live. You wondered what kind of person you’d become then, when your morals were upheld by a code.

Being in a crowd offered a wonderful sense of anonymity. You weren't anyone. You didn’t belong anywhere, but not one member of the numberless throng knew that. Momentarily, you were granted the chance to become anyone. Not an aspiring doctor. Not another student obsessed with owning nice things. All you wanted to be was at you friend’s side, enjoying the evening.

You stumbled through, eventually reaching Rian. His gaze fluttered to the pavement, then he moved to reach for his wallet. You snuck over, moving until you stood directly behind him. Hands creeping up to his shoulders, you pressed down, stifling a laugh when he jumped.

“Hey!”

“Shit, Y/N,” he hissed, fumbling with his wallet.

“Are you hungry?”

“No.”

At that moment, his stomach growled.

Laughing, you patted him on the back. He permitted your hold to linger, your arm resting across his shoulders as you embarked into the throng, mindlessly stepping. Their stroll led them to a small bar tucked into an alley. A flickering sign with streaks of balding neon designates its name, but you paid it no mind and entered. Inside, the atmosphere was cozy, dimly lit with amber bulbs that cast a comforting glow over the wooden tables.

Passing a line of arcade games, you choose a spot near the front, on barstools that overlooked the street. Still, you were attracted to the machine’s blaring lights like a moth. You wanted a plush toy from the claw machine and knew that you, for some reason or another—due to a lack of skill or luck—would not receive it. As the eldest child, you were accustomed to sowing the seeds of desire yet and never reaping. But it was for the better; you were greedy and would demand more.

“What are you looking at?”

Sharply inhaling, you spun around to face him. Rian peered at you from behind his phone screen, then set it aside, face up.

“Nothing,” you said. “Those machines are really bright. It’s distracting.”

“Yeah, I guess so,” he said, squinting. It really was blinding.

Settling at their table, Rian sank onto a stool, defeated. It creaked beneath his weight, and he winced.

“I’ll get us drinks,” said you, already rising.

His arm shot out in protest, wrapping around yoru wrist. “No, let me.”

With a huff, you tugged yourself free. “You invited me out, so it’s my treat.” Rian could not afford to squander his hard-earned cash on you.

“Isn’t it usually the other way?”

“Who cares? You’re getting free food. Don’t question my benevolence.”

Your bank account’s sum would dwindle, but someday, you’d make it back tenfold and treat Rian to something better than a shitty pub without even bothering to look at the price. This thought was your bleeding wallet’s only solace.

Reaching the bar, you ordered two pints. He swiftly delivered them from the tap. Cheering, you sipped at the froth spilling over the edge. You set a hefty glass before Rian and wiped your mouth on your shoulder.

“Sorry for the sudden call,” he abruptly said, his hands finding the security of his pockets as he spoke, “I just felt like seeing a friend today, and you’re as friendly as the lot gets.”

“No problem. I’m glad for the distraction. It feels like ages since we’ve last seen each other.”

“Yeah, really. Life gets busy. School, work, family… Between everything, It’s impossible to find a moment just to breathe.”

Not to mention how he juggled two part-time jobs, but Rian wasn’t one to complain.

Humming along, you traced the rim of your glass. You were vaguely aware that you should’ve gotten another to supplement living off of your mother’s income, but after last semester, you were reconsidering your ability to work and maintain your grades. At the very least, you’d work in the summer, and since your mother refused to take rent, would find other ways to help around the house. Maybe you should’ve already started looking for a co-op to boost your application for med school.

“It really is,” you said, shaking your head. “I thought so, too. I haven’t seen you or Connor in forever. I hate how, even though we attend the same university, it feels like we’re living in different worlds.”

Secondary school was unfounded hell, all seven layers of Dante’s inferno at once. While you didn’t recall those days fondly, you longed for its simplicity. There was a practiced ease to each day, comfort in only having to devote your time to your studies. Even now, you only had to focus on hitting the books and attending class, but because the responsibility to learn had fallen on you, you found your resolve wavering. Only the prospect of becoming filthy rich one day spurred your ambitions.

And grades too, you supposed. Most people claimed grades weren’t important, but those very same figures wouldn’t schedule appointments with a doctor who struggled through undergrad coursework. While it wouldn’t be evident upon entering an office, anyone could tell a doctor’s educational prowess through their conduct.

“Tell me about it,” you sighed, adjusting your glasses with a habitual motion. Your arm grazed the table on the way to your lap, stirring the contents of your cups. Your gaze was drawn to the rippling, amber liquid.

“Have you been keeping well with your studies?” Rian inquired.

“Trying to,” you said. You chuckled, a hollow, biting sound. “Can’t understand shit, but molecular biology isn't going to learn itself.”

“Speaking of misunderstandings,” Rian ventured cautiously, his fingers playing with the condensation on his glass. “Are you... I mean, I could be wrong, but from what I hear around campus, is there something going on between you and Cillian?”

The question struck you like a wave, causing you to inhale sharply. Your mouthful of beer went down the wrong pipe, and you choked, sputtering as you tried to regain your composure. Your eyes watered as you reached for a napkin, dabbing at your lips.

“Why would you ask that?” you managed to cough out. Bringing a hand up, you hit your chest, dislodging the liquid from your lungs.

Rian's gaze was steady, though not unkind, as he took a slow sip of his beer, buying a moment before answering. He set the glass down with a gentle thud, the sound muffled by the chatter and music surrounding them.

“I guess I’ve noticed how he's around you. It’s like… like he's always trying to keep close to you, you know?”

You studied Rian’s expression, noting the earnest furrow in his brow.

“No, we’re not anything. Only friends, and Cillian is just… complicated,” you began, voice trailing off as you searched for the right words. “But speaking of complicated,” you ventured with a cautious smile, “how are things with your girlfriend? I know you’re long-distance, but you haven’t talked about her in a while.”

Rian’s expression softened, but his eyes darted away for a moment before meeting yours again. He fiddled with the edge of a coaster, his fingers tracing the damp outline left by his beer glass.

“Ah, well, we haven’t spoken much lately,” he admitted, a note of shyness betraying his usual warmth. “It’s kind of on a pause, I guess. But it’s alright. Life's been busy. Busy, or maybe I’m not good at juggling.”

Sometimes, you thought Eve was a grand ploy invented by his madness. A girlfriend who lived in Malaysia and only met him through an exchange program last year? You didn’t recall meeting such a person, but supposedly, they struck up conversation because Rian was learning Indonesian, and they kept in contact to continue as language partners. It didn’t make sense to you, but what did you know? You were studying biomedical science, after all. You knew all the heart’s functions except for one.

“Really?” You responded with good-natured curiosity, though your mind was elsewhere. A buzz from under the table jolted you out of your reverie. You glanced down discreetly, the familiar ding of a text notification causing your heart to skip a beat. It was Cillian. Your fingertips brushed against the cold metal.

“Y/N?” Realizing your distraction, Rian’s brows knitted together.

“Sorry,” you said quickly, giving him an apologetic grin. “Just lost in thought for a second there.”

Another buzz, more insistent this time, sent a ripple of anxiety through you. You could almost hear Cillian’s voice in your head, his voice with each chime. Hey, hey, hey. Answer me. Why aren’t you picking up the phone? Your grip on the cup tightened.

Rian took a sip of his beer, his eyes not leaving your face. In the brief silence that followed, you were crushed beneath the weight of his unspoken questions, the air thickening as your phone continued like a beehive, its screen emitting a faint glow from beneath the cover of the table. You angled the device slightly, squinting to read the string of texts as you typed out a hurried response. Your thumb fumbled over the autocorrect suggestions, fingers flying too fast for your mind.

“Did I call you out at a bad time?” Rian leaned in, genuinely perplexed, the soft light casting shadows across his face. “You seem to be somewhere else.”

Embarrassment flushed your cheeks as you tucked the device away, hoping your smile might mask the sudden rush of guilt. “Ah, no, it's not that,” you managed to say, your voice a pitch higher than usual. “Brother’s home alone and doesn’t know how to cook. I’ll get him some Chinese after. You know how it is.”

Instead of answering, he shrugged and downed the rest of his glass’ contents in a single long gulp. Your heart clenched with gratitude. You offered a nod, a silent thank you, before redirecting the conversation to safer, shallower waters.

Across from you, Rian reached for his glass, the ice within clinking like a subtle chime. He took a slow swig to scoop any dregs into his mouth, chewed on a piece of ice, then set the glass down with measured care. His hand moved through the air as if to dismiss an irritating gnat.

“Summer brings all the pests,” he said, swatting at the air. “You shouldn’t bait flies. They’ve got germs and they’ll make you sick if they linger.”

Your mouth was dry. “I’ll… I’ll keep that in mind.”

Hugging yourself, you watched the night drift past, viewing the crowd, pinpointing people to imagine the lives of. You spied yourself in the reflection, your image superimposed across the glass. Your lens reflected the light, making your eyes round discs.

What were you doing here? What were your goals with Rian?

He was always a joy to hang out with, but like all good things, he was received in moderation. He took just enough courses to be considered a full-time student and whenever he wasn’t committed to his studies, spent his precious free time trapped at a part-time job. His pay covered his tuition. His grandparents from the countryside sent him a meager allowance for food. Whenever they went out, he eyed the prices. He’d offer to pay at dinner, but no one ever permitted him to snag the check, knowing better than to take advantage of his needlessly giving nature. Without parents, he struggled more than a regular student ought to, so you tried to take care of him, the boy who was like the younger brother you’d always wanted. You weren’t doing a very good job, but Rian was nothing if not determined to squander his loyalty on someone like you.

You had sparse conversation, commenting on things between bites.  While not particularly close with Rian, he was easy to read and transparent. You soon developed a good groove in the conversation, permitting it to falter when you finally lost interest. Otherwise, you ordered chips to eat in silence and neatly stacked the trays when finished. While you wiped the table down with a napkin, Rian discarded your trash in a rubbish bin.

Checking the time, you realized y ouhad been out for just over an hour. You could’ve extended the plans. You still had a small balance set aside for discretionary spending, but the week was yet to end, and you feared that Cillian might impose an abrupt photography session, which meant visiting a new resturaunt, which would be followed by a trip to his favorite cafe.

If you’d gone out with him instead of Rian tonight, you could’ve expected to extend the excursion by an hour and for your account to be wiped. He knew all the trendy, fashionable stores, and in the company of someone like him, you felt compelled to also look your best. You could do little about your physical appearance, so through fashion, it was.

On the way out, you passed by that claw machine again. You glanced longingly at the contents. Although the quality was questionable, the little duck perched atop the lot was adorable. You paused to stare at your reflection in the mirror. Your face looked puffy and beneath the harsh lights, the bags beneath your eyes visible. The breeze had died and the night air was humid, so baby hairs stuck to your forehead. Retrieving a clip from your purse, you stalled. You scooped the strands between your thumb and forefinger, attaching the clip. You laughed at yourself. Your bangs stuck up like a palm tree.

“So that’s what you were looking at,” said Rian, slotting himself at your side. His reflection joined yours. “Want me to win it for you?”

“No. It’s all luck, no skill.”

“That’s because you’re not skilled.”

“You know these things are practically scams, right? The claws are always too weak to grab anything.”

Rian’s lips curved into a smile, his features illuminated by the neon colors dancing across his face. “Maybe,” he conceded, tucking a stray lock of wavy hair behind his ear. “But it’s still worth a shot. What if I win you something?”

“Then I’ll be genuinely impressed.”

You winced when he inserted a bill. He maneuvered the claw around, eyeing an ugly thing. You stood at the side of the machine, eyeing his trajectory. The machine gave two turns with each payment. During the first, Rian managed to snag the creature. Seized by the head, it precariously wobbled before slipping out and falling back into place. The second was just as dismal.

Rian clicked his tongue. You begged him to stop, but he fed the machine bill after bill. He shrieked with every failed attempt, yet on on the eighth and final turn, the claw held fast and secured the creature.  Your mouth fell open as the prize dangled precariously during its journey toward the drop chute, landing with a dull thud. It was still for a moment before he lifted the plexiglass and snatched it up.

“Yes! Did you see that? I beat the machine!”

Gripping it by the neck, he presented a scraggy bundle of coarse thread and lopsided proportions. You weren’t quite sure what it was meant to be. Similarly, it wasn’t the one you had your eye on earlier. Nevertheless, you profusely thanked his efforts and rewarded him with an awkward embrace.

“Let’s take a picture with your new friend there,” Rian begged. His phone, a device older than most, its screen littered with scratches, was already out of his pocket and in his hands. “I want to show off my skills.”

You grinned. “You’re going to brag about one measly win?”

“It made you smile. But if you don’t want to, that’s fine.”

“No. It’s alright. It’s just one picture.”

You hugged the toy close to your chest to muffle the furious pounding of your heart as he snapped the photo. With its head skimming your cheek, you caught a whiff of its cardboard stench and felt a hole beneath one of the arms. The material was coarse against your cheek. You gritted your teeth and grinned. You wouldn’t complain because Rian was overjoyed to provide something for you, so you chewed your tongue.

Instead of the shoddy object, you reveled in the sentiment behind it, knowing your momentary happiness was worth losing out on several lunches because he valued you more than himself.

Backing up, Rian framed the shot with shaky hands. Just as the shutter clicked, someone jostled him from behind. With a grin, he turned the screen toward you, displaying your blurred visage.

“Rian, it’s all hazy,” you protested. The lights in the back were supernovas, streaky lines illuminating your silhouette. Your figure appeared smeared across them like a watercolor painting left out in the rain.

“Doesn’t matter.” He shrugged, pocketing his phone without a second glance. “It’s just a picture of us—well, you and the… Whatever the fuck the ugly thing is. I know you’ll love it. You’ve got this way of loving things no one else could.”

You would. You had to, because no one else would offer the care you did.

You could’ve deluded yourself into feeling special, but it was all for show. He was smiles and kindness, yet above all, Rian was desperate to keep others at his side as if they were pieces of art to be displayed. Such was natural for people of his nature; those who were alone and despised the fact would always try to appear otherwise, and at all costs. Rian would toil and squander his precious time and money to please you, because if he didn’t no one else would. He was an indispensable person, eager to assert his value. That was his sense of selfishness.

Knowing all that, would you still plead for the stupid toy again? Of course, and without delay. The harsh truth to the world was that that happiness could only be achieved through vanity. Humans were vain and selfish; no person was inherently selfless. Those that were, were without good reason.

[lilbittymonster]

Day 2: Horizon

Read on AO3

Kitali leaned against the railing as the ship slowly pulled away from Limsa, the city lights growing dimmer by the minute as they disappeared into the horizon. Once the rest of the crew was relatively settled after the initial departure the upper deck was quiet while everyone went below to the mess hall. Nothing but the salted breeze and lapping of waves kept her company, and it was a relief after the last few tense weeks to have time to herself.

Until the sound of measured booted steps came from behind her.

“I thought we had made a deal, Mistress Moonblade,” said the steely voice of Carvallain.

“We did. And I’ve upheld my end.” Kitali hardly turned her head as he leaned against the railing to face her.

“Then how is it that your secretary could hold such blackmail over my head?” he drawled.

“The woman worked as a barmaid in the Knight for the better part of a year. Who knows how much gossip she’s absorbed? And you’re the spitting image of your father, sorry to say.”

Carvallain grumbled under his breath but didn’t press any further accusations. The two stayed silent, regarding the stars, until he spoke up again. Softer, this time.

“How is he?”

“Who, Charlemend?”

“Aye.”

“He still searches for his missing son and hopes one day he will return to Ishgard,” Kitali said. “Though I’m sure you knew that already.”

A grunt was her only confirmation.

“He’s….he’s trying. He was one of the first of the High Houses to come around on the change in government. He’s even taken up working in Saint Vaindreau’s Grace with the healers.”

A sound of surprise escaped Carvallain. “My father, deigning to spend his time amongst the rabble of the lower city?” he said dryly. “Mayhap there is such a thing as miracles.”

“Stranger things have happened.”

“I shall take your word for it."

[kp777]

By Jessica Corbett

Common Dreams

June 20, 2024

"Right-wing billionaires hoped an obscure legal case would blow up the tax code to avoid paying what they owe, but this effort failed," said the Democratic senator after the Moore v. United States decision.

Sen. Elizabeth Warren was among the economic justice advocates cheering Thursday after the U.S. Supreme Court upheld a tax on Americans with shares of certain foreign corporations—a win for the Massachusetts Democrat and other wealth tax advocates.

"Right-wing billionaires hoped an obscure legal case would blow up the tax code to avoid paying what they owe, but this effort failed at the Supreme Court," Warren said in response to the 7-2 ruling in Moore v. United States. "The fight goes on to tax the rich, pass a wealth tax on ultra-millionaires and billionaires, and make the system more fair."

Although the narrow decision doesn't explicitly affirm the constitutionality of federal wealth tax proposals from congressional progressives including Warren, court watchers had feared a ruling in favor of Charles and Kathleen Moore—a Washington couple who challenged the mandatory repatriation tax (MRT) in Republicans' 2017 tax law—would disrupt efforts to impose such policies.

The high court heard the case in December. Conservative Justice Brett Kavanaugh on Thursday delivered the majority opinion that the MRT "does not exceed Congress' constitutional authority." He was joined by Chief Justice John Roberts and the three liberals. Justice Amy Coney Barrett concurred in the judgment, joined by Justice Samuel Alito, who had faced calls to sit this case out.

Conservative Justice Clarence Thomas—who has provoked pressure to recuse himself from multiple cases or even leave the court by accepting and not reporting gifts from ultrarich Republicans—dissented, joined by Justice Neil Gorsuch. Thomas argued "the Moores are correct" that "a tax on unrealized investment gains is not a tax on 'incomes' within the meaning of the 16th Amendment, and it therefore cannot be imposed 'without apportionment among the several states.'"

The Roosevelt Institute and Institute on Taxation and Economic Policy (ITEP) warned in a September report that a decision siding with the Moores could have led nearly 400 multinational corporations to collectively receive more than $270 billion in tax relief.

"Today's ruling is a win for anyone who didn't shelter income in offshore tax havens before 2018," ITEP executive director Amy Hanauer said Thursday. "It preserves close to $300 billion of tax revenue paid by some of the biggest and most profitable corporations in human history."

"If the court had retroactively repealed this one-time tax, any other way of making up the resulting shortfall would have fallen far more heavily on middle-and-low-income families and small businesses," she added. "The Supreme Court also could have taken an activist turn of the worst kind by preemptively ruling federal wealth taxes unconstitutional today. To its credit, the court did not do so."

Groundwork Collaborative executive director Lindsay Owens similarly called the ruling "great news," adding that "next year, there is nothing standing in Congress' way to make the wealthy pay up."

Meanwhile, Morris Pearl, chair of the Patriotic Millionaires and a former managing director at BlackRock, had a more mixed response, saying that "we are relieved that the Supreme Court chose not to overreach in its Moore v. U.S. decision. The plaintiffs' patently absurd argument, based on incorrect and seemingly fabricated facts, threatened to upend the tax code and preemptively declare taxes on wealth and unrealized capital gains unconstitutional. The court chose not to do so."

"But we remain deeply alarmed for two reasons. First, it is now evident that four Supreme Court justices are enthralled by the influence of billionaires. In their concurring opinion, Justices Barrett and Alito asserted that unrealized capital gains cannot be taxed, as did Thomas and Gorsuch in their dissent, which said there is a realization requirement for income tax," Pearl said. "These justices have now signaled their intention to declare taxes on wealth and unrealized capital gains unconstitutional."

"Second, the Supreme Court should never have agreed to hear this case in the first place," he continued. "Billionaires are shamelessly buying influence on the Court. While seven Justices rejected this specific attempt by plutocrats to avoid their patriotic duty, this does not change the fact that several members of the Supreme Court have corrupt relationships with billionaire benefactors looking to purchase outcomes on the court."

This post has been updated with comment from the Patriotic Millionaires.

[higanbana-writer]

Everlasting Family

Pairing: Gyūtarō x Platonic!Mother!Reader x Daki Summary: Tanjirō fails to behead Gyūtarō after you intervene. Note: Based off the headcanon I did with Upper Moon!Reader turning Daki and Gyūtarō into demons.

“Brother! Do something will you, Brother?!”

Daki’s shrill shrieks sounded distant, muffled by the roaring blood in Gyūtarō’s ears.

How? How had things come to this? That Hashira and those other three demon slayers – all of them were supposed to be dead! So why was it that both he and his sister were on the verge of being beheaded by them?!

He’d been so confident in their victory not too long ago, but now, try as he might, he couldn’t suppress the fear that welled up within him. He could feel it so clearly, the way the cold blade sliced deeper into his neck as its wielder bellowed in desperation.

No. It wasn’t over yet. He could still fight back.

He had to.

Clenching his teeth, blood began to bubble at the stump of his severed arm as he tightened his grip on his kama, sinking it further into Tanjirō’s jaw in a last-ditch attempt to force him away. But the boy never faltered, not even seeming to register the pain. And a second later, Gyūtarō found his head flying through the air. Oddly enough, instead of the expected sound of Tanjirō’s blade slicing cleanly through his flesh, he heard the piercing screech of blades scraping against each other.

Rather than dropping to the ground as it should have, his head was suddenly seized by something and the next thing he knew, he was overlooking the demon slayers from atop a building.

“Wha-“

With everything happening the blink of an eye, he couldn’t understand what had just happened. Uzui and Tanjirō were still below, and he was certain Daki had been beheaded as well, so who’s hand was it that held him? It felt gentle and somehow extremely familiar.

“Goodness, I see that some pests have crawled their way into our home while I was gone.”

Upon hearing your voice, Gyūtarō inhaled sharply in surprise. What were you doing here when you were supposed to be away on a mission for Muzan? Had you completed it sooner than anticipated? Well, never mind that. Though your tone had been light and almost on the edge of playful, he could hear the simmering rage layered underneath it, threatening to boil over at any moment.

While he was unable to turn his head with no body attached to it, he was still able to catch a glimpse of you through the corner of his eye and what he saw sent a chill down his detached spine lying below.

A frigid smile graced your lips and your eyes, ever intimidating with the Upper Moon rank displayed, held nothing but a murderous fire as you gazed at the humans that had decapitated him. Never during the entire century he’d known you for, had he ever seen you this furious.

Just as Gyūtarō opened his mouth to call your attention onto him, he suddenly caught sight of an open folding fan clutched in your other hand. It was a weapon he was all too familiar with, having seen you using it numerous times during hunts for meals and times when you needed to blend in with the human courtesans. What he was unaccustomed to seeing, however, was the blood that dripped off its bladed edge. His own blood, to be more precise.

Had you perhaps… sliced away at the remaining flesh that had connected his head and neck before Tanjirō could fully behead him? That would certainly explain why he hadn’t started to disintegrate yet. Then, if it weren’t for you swooping in at the last second, both he and Daki would have been guaranteed to die.

He grimaced at the thought, shame quickly overtaking any and all relief he felt towards he and his sister’s narrow escape from death. The two of them had upheld their position among the Twelve Kizuki for almost as long as they had been with you, taking the lives of countless people along the way and continuously growing stronger. They were your pride and joy, demons whom you turned and taught yourself, honing them into the perfect weapons befitting of Muzan.

Or at least, that’s what he thought. But here they were, having been nearly killed by one measly Hashira and three brats not even old enough to be called men. An utter disgrace to their rank and to you. It would come as no surprise if you were to cast aside the siblings and leave for good, though he dreaded the very thought of his cherished family breaking apart.

“Gyūtarō.”

He couldn’t help but flinch when you called his name and while reluctant – perhaps even scared – to face whatever harsh words you had for him, he was left with no choice when you lifted his head to look him in the eyes.

Contrary to his expectations, however, you looked far from displeased at his and Daki’s loss. As a matter of fact, the burning ire you held towards the demon slayers mere moments ago was all but gone, replaced with a gentle concern for your children.

He had been prepared to plead with you, beg you for another chance if you decided to abandon them. But met with your worry and love, not a hint of anger or disappointment to be found, all he could do was croak out a quiet apology. “Mother, I… I’m sorry Daki and I couldn’t do better.”

You quietly shushed him, placing a soft kiss on his forehead. “You have nothing to apologize for. I know you and Daki did the best you both could, and that’s what matters. It’s that boy who’s the problem.” Your gaze flickered down to whom he could only presume to be Tanjirō, your lips curling into a disdainful sneer. “Those hanafuda earrings – he must be the one Master Muzan wishes dead. I’ll take over from here, so could you please check on your sister, Gyūtarō?”

“Of course, Mother.” His reply was quick and he blinked in place of nodding. As much as he wanted to kill Tanjirō himself for nearly beheading him not just once, but twice, he knew he was in no position to argue with you. He and Daki were already fortunate enough that you were so forgiving of their blunder.

Gyūtarō raised his body off the ground from behind Tanjirō and Uzui, and though the latter had lunged at it to prevent him from reconnecting his head, he was far too slow. Gyūtarō’s body leapt up and landed next to you on the roof side, taking his head back when you handed it to him and placing it back on the stump of his neck.

“Now then,” You narrowed your eyes as you looked down at the humans, a cruel glint mixing with the returning anger in them. “I believe you have reinforcements on the way, yes? I can see that most of you here are already on the verge of dying, but do try to stay alive until they arrive. I’ll have you watch as I slaughter them all.” As you let out a fiendish laugh, blue flames began to flicker behind you, taking on the appearance of nine fox tails.

“You’ve got to be kidding me…” Uzui muttered in disbelief, the ever-irritating confidant façade of his finally starting to break with dread peeking through its cracks.

But who could blame him? One glance at the younger demon slayer next to him was all it took for Gyūtarō to know that his poison had already taken effect. It wouldn’t be long now before Tanjirō succumbed to it. Uzui was now alone in his fight against you, Upper Moon Four. Oh, how the tables have turned.

A smug smirk slipped its way onto his face and as he began heading towards the direction where Daki’s head should have fallen, he heard the clashing of weapons and your voice snarling, “You should have never touched my children, human.”

Your children.

No matter how many times Gyūtarō had heard you say it, it still filled him with a warmth that almost seemed…human. With your words echoing in his head, he leapt from roof to roof, scanning the ground until he spotted his sister, clearly fuming. Daki seemed to still be in the process of reattaching her head, holding a hand to each side to keep it still as her flesh fused together.

She scowled when he dropped down in front of her, immediately beginning to whine. “Brother! What took you so long?! Those brats beheaded me again! You killed them, right? Tell me you killed them all!”

Wasn’t this the fourth time her head had been cut off that night? As exasperating as that fact was, he had to admit, after knowing that they would have died without your intervention, he was relieved to see her being so lively.

“Mother is home.”  

In an instant, Daki’s eyes lit up with delight. “Really? She’s back already? I have to go welcome her home then!” With her head now fully reattached, she rushed to her feet and started hurrying back to where they’d last been, eager to see you again.

As he followed after his sister, seeing how excited she was reminded him of the brief, mostly one-sided conversation he’d had with Tanjirō. It really was quite a pity that he’d refused his offer to become a demon. Gyūtarō had no doubt that if he had accepted, you would have welcomed he and his sister into the family. Well, not that it mattered anymore since the boy would be dead soon.

The three of you were a perfect family as it was and he knew that as long as you were together, nothing – no matter how many demon slayers or Hashira were sent your way – would be able to tear you apart.

[reaper2187]

Clorinde x Female readr

Clorinde, the mysterious and stoic Duelist Champion of Fontaine, had always been a figure of admiration and fear in the city. Her calm demeanor, her piercing gaze, and her unmatched skill with a rapier had earned her a fearsome reputation. Many people spoke of her duels with reverence, while others speculated about her cold, distant nature. You, however, had seen another side of her—a softer, more vulnerable side that very few knew existed.

You weren’t just any regular citizen of Fontaine. You were a bounty hunter, someone who worked in the shadows, hunting down criminals and tracking those who dared to defy the laws of the nation. While Clorinde upheld the law in the dueling arena, you enforced it in the streets. The two of you were an unlikely pair, but somehow, it worked.

The moon hung high in the sky, casting a soft glow over Fontaine’s streets as you made your way back to your shared apartment. Your latest hunt had been successful, but exhausting. Tracking down a notorious bandit who had been wreaking havoc on the outskirts of the city had taken days, and now, all you wanted was to collapse into bed.

As you approached the door, you heard the familiar sound of steel clashing from within. A small smile crept onto your face. Clorinde must be practicing again. You pushed open the door quietly, stepping inside to see her in the middle of her training routine. She was moving with precision, her rapier cutting through the air with graceful efficiency.

“Another duel with yourself, huh?” you teased, leaning against the doorframe.

Clorinde paused, turning to face you. Her eyes softened as they met yours, and the tension in her posture eased. She sheathed her rapier and approached you, her usual stoic expression replaced with a subtle warmth.

“You’re back,” she said simply, though you could hear the relief in her voice.

You stepped forward, wrapping your arms around her waist and pulling her into a hug. She hesitated for only a moment before returning the embrace, her arms tightening around you.

“I missed you,” you whispered against her neck, breathing in the familiar scent of her. It was a mix of metal, leather, and something uniquely Clorinde.

“I missed you too,” she admitted quietly, her voice barely above a whisper.

The two of you stood there for a few moments, just holding each other. For all of Clorinde’s strength and power, she had always been gentle with you, as if afraid of breaking something precious.

“Come sit with me,” she said softly, pulling away slightly but keeping one hand in yours. “Tell me how the hunt went.”

You followed her to the small sitting area in the living room, the two of you settling on the couch. She sat close to you, her arm draped casually over your shoulders as you recounted the details of your mission.

“It was tough,” you admitted. “The guy was slippery, knew how to cover his tracks. But in the end, I caught up to him.”

Clorinde listened intently, her thumb absentmindedly tracing circles on your shoulder. It was something you loved about her—how she could be so focused on everything you said, no matter how trivial it seemed.

“I’m glad you’re safe,” she said when you finished, her voice low and serious. “Fontaine’s criminals are becoming more brazen. I worry about you when you’re out there alone.”

You chuckled softly, leaning into her touch. “I can handle myself, you know that. Besides, you’re the one dueling people left and right. Shouldn’t I be the one worrying about you?”

Clorinde’s lips quirked into a rare smile, and she pressed a soft kiss to the top of your head. “Maybe. But I’ve always been better at worrying than you.”

The two of you sat in comfortable silence for a while, the sounds of the city outside fading into the background. Eventually, you shifted to face her more fully, resting a hand on her thigh.

“Have you had any duels lately?” you asked, curious. “Anyone challenging the great Clorinde?”

She shook her head, her expression returning to its usual calm. “No, not recently. It’s been quiet.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Quiet? For Fontaine? That’s rare.”

Clorinde hummed in agreement. “It won’t last. It never does.”

There was a certain melancholy in her tone, and you knew why. Clorinde lived for the duels, for the thrill of battle. But you also knew that it weighed on her, the constant need to prove herself, to defend her title. She didn’t say it out loud, but you could sense her exhaustion sometimes, the toll it took on her.

“You don’t always have to fight, you know,” you said softly, reaching up to brush a strand of hair away from her face. “You’ve already proven yourself time and time again.”

Clorinde met your gaze, her eyes searching yours for something. “It’s not about proving myself,” she said quietly. “It’s about duty. I have to protect Fontaine.”

You nodded, understanding. Clorinde’s sense of duty was one of the things you admired most about her, even if it sometimes led her down a difficult path.

“And you do,” you assured her. “But you’re allowed to rest too. You don’t have to carry everything on your shoulders.”

She didn’t respond immediately, but you could see the conflict in her eyes. Finally, she let out a quiet sigh, her shoulders relaxing slightly.

“Maybe you’re right,” she conceded. “I just… I don’t want to let anyone down.”

“You won’t,” you promised, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to her lips. “Not ever.”

Clorinde kissed you back, slow and deliberate, as if savoring the moment. When she pulled away, there was a softness in her gaze that she reserved only for you.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you,” she admitted, her voice barely audible.

“You’ll never have to find out,” you said firmly, resting your forehead against hers.

The days passed in a blur of routine. You took on more bounties, tracking down criminals and keeping the streets of Fontaine safe, while Clorinde continued her training and occasional duels. Despite the intensity of your jobs, the two of you always found time for each other, whether it was sharing a quiet dinner or simply lying together in bed at the end of a long day.

One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm orange glow over the city, you returned home to find Clorinde waiting for you at the door. There was something different about her tonight—a tension in her posture, a flicker of unease in her eyes.

“What’s wrong?” you asked immediately, your instincts kicking in.

Clorinde hesitated, her gaze dropping to the floor for a moment before meeting yours again. “I’ve been challenged,” she said quietly.

You blinked in surprise. “Challenged? By who?”

“A man named Vasile. He’s a skilled duelist, one of the best from outside Fontaine. He arrived today and issued a formal challenge for my title.”

Your stomach tightened. You knew what this meant. Clorinde took every duel seriously, but a challenge from someone of Vasile’s caliber wasn’t just any duel. This would be a battle for her reputation, for her standing as the Duelist Champion.

“When?” you asked, trying to keep your voice steady.

“Tomorrow,” she replied, her eyes scanning your face as if gauging your reaction. “At dawn.”

You nodded, your mind already racing. “Have you fought him before?”

“No,” she said, her tone measured. “But I’ve heard of him. He’s dangerous.”

There was a heavy silence between the two of you. Clorinde rarely admitted to being concerned about an opponent, which only made your own worry grow. You reached out, taking her hand in yours and giving it a reassuring squeeze.

“You’ll win,” you said confidently, even though your heart was pounding in your chest. “You always do.”

Clorinde’s lips pressed into a thin line, and she gave a small nod. “I hope so.”

You pulled her into a hug, holding her tightly. “No matter what happens, I’ll be there for you. Always.”

She rested her head on your shoulder, and for a moment, the weight of the world seemed to fall away. The two of you stood like that for what felt like an eternity, finding comfort in each other’s presence.

The next morning, you stood by the dueling arena, your heart in your throat as you watched Clorinde face off against Vasile. The man was tall, broad-shouldered, and carried himself with the confidence of someone who had fought—and won—many battles. His eyes gleamed with arrogance as he circled Clorinde, his rapier held at the ready.

Clorinde, in contrast, was calm and composed, her stance perfect as always. But you knew her well enough to see the tension in her shoulders, the slight tightness around her eyes.

The duel began with a sharp clash of steel as the two opponents lunged at each other. The sound of their rapiers ringing out filled the arena, and you held your breath, watching every move, every parry, every strike.

Vasile was fast—faster than you’d expected—but Clorinde was faster. She moved with the grace and precision of a dancer, her rapier slicing through the air in perfectly timed arcs. For a while, it seemed like they were evenly matched, neither one gaining the upper hand.

But then Vasile began to push harder, his strikes becoming more aggressive, more calculated. He was trying to wear her

down, and you could see Clorinde’s movements becoming just a fraction slower as she defended against his relentless assault.

Your hands clenched into fists at your sides, your heart racing as you willed her to stay strong, to hold on. You knew she could do it. She had to.

And then, in a split second, it happened.

Clorinde saw an opening—just the smallest gap in Vasile’s defenses—and she took it. Her rapier flashed, and before anyone could react, Vasile’s weapon was knocked from his hand. He stumbled back, his eyes wide with shock as Clorinde’s blade came to rest at his throat.

The crowd erupted into cheers, but you barely heard them. All you could see was Clorinde, standing tall and victorious, her chest rising and falling with heavy breaths.

She had won.

Relief flooded through you, and without thinking, you rushed forward, pushing past the onlookers until you reached her. She turned to you, her eyes softening as she lowered her rapier.

Before you could say anything, you threw your arms around her, pulling her into a tight embrace. She hesitated for only a moment before wrapping her arms around you in return, holding you just as tightly.

“You did it,” you whispered against her neck, your voice thick with emotion. “I knew you would.”

Clorinde pulled back just enough to look at you, a rare smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “I couldn’t have done it without you.”

You smiled back, your heart swelling with love and pride. “I’ll always be here for you, Clorinde. No matter what.”

She leaned in, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your lips, and in that moment, everything else faded away. It was just the two of you, standing together, strong and unbreakable.

And you knew, without a doubt, that whatever challenges came your way—whether in battle or in life—you would face them together.

[mintywolf]

While in Bassuras, Laudna strikes a dangerous bargain with a fey entity to bring Imogen back a new shard of the gnarlrock. It's fine, she thinks, she got the better end of the deal: her end of the bargain will only be upheld when she dies.

--

The moons have not yet set when she returns to the Raha Den. With some relief, she finds that her key still turns the lock, but she leans carefully into the room, looking with anxiety over the sleeping shapes in each bed. How dreadful, if they’ve given up and moved on without her. (Surely not Imogen.) If a year, or a decade, or a century has passed and she’ll return to find every face a stranger’s. (Yes, even Imogen.)

As she steps into the room her foot finds the corner of something hard, and she withdraws it with a hiss. Holding onto the door, she turns over the small, even-edged object with her toe. A triangle-shaped wooden toy block, pushed up against the door to reveal intruders. Her throat catches as she recognizes Chetney’s workmanship and Ashton’s guardedness. They’re here. They’re still here.

Perhaps she has not lost that much time, after all. Perhaps it’s even still the same night.

“It is not,” the woman in her head reminds her as she shuts the door carefully behind herself and replaces the block, “You’ve been away a day or so, at least. And yet you return as you left. Unnoticed, unlooked-for, unmissed. Poor thing.”

“Soup,” Laudna replies in an absent whisper, “It’s a weird soup.”

She looks around, wobbling a little and continuing to hold on to the door latch for support. In one of the beds she can discern the soft, rounded outlines of Fearne, curled up around another, smaller figure, Orym? and — there. The other is faintly illuminated by the violet glow of Imogen’s lightning-struck arms, pulsing gently in time with her breathing. She’s here.

(Read More)