#her “drug” is consuming the souls of others | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

Visit Blog

Explore Tumblr blogs with no restrictions, modern design and the best experience.

Fun Fact

130K people were victims of a chain letter scam that affected Tumblr in May 2011.

#her “drug” is consuming the souls of others

qierxing · 8 days

Text

Head empty just yandere Heartslabyul as your imperial harem members

yan!poly!Heartslabyul x Reader

tw/cw: dub//con, gender-neutral reader but referred with masculine terms, drugging, manipulation, implied somnophilia, political machinations

—

you were raised with the expectation that you would shoulder the crown and rule over your people, justly and fairly. because of that, by the time you were crowned, your mindset compared to others your age was mature beyond what was considered normal.

you would be lying if you weren't bitter. Although you've long accepted that no one else could be trusted to rule this land and its people, you often wondered what your life would be like if there were no etiquette lessons and sword practices consuming your childhood.

In the end, it's all foolish dreams. You sit on your glittering golden throne and watch apathetically as the imperial court cheers and raises a toast to the new royal blood.

You were prepared for the responsibilities of a monarch, but what you weren't prepared for was your vassals' obnoxious nagging.

Your kingdom's tradition and laws have long allowed for polygamy, and your previous ancestors were known for their large harems. That day, you finally learned why: to ensure that royal blood would still be carried on, no matter what.

it's distasteful to you. you try to ignore your vassals all talking your ears off about potential consorts and lovers. but it's only so long before you crack.

Riddle Rosehearts was the first one to be by your side.

Not by choice. Duchess Rosehearts was the one who brought up her darling son to your vassals first, who then presented him to you. You would've turned them away, if not for the boy's eyes. Something in those stormy gray eyes makes your heart ache. His mother clutches her son's shoulder in a vice like grip that goes far beyond parental worry. Perhaps he too knows what it feels like to have no control over his life.

And so reluctantly, you let him join you as a consort.

It's not bad. Rather, he's so intelligent and diligent that you often ask him for help and advice on the kingdom's affairs, knowing that his strictness with himself and others provides a valuable impartial view that you can hardly find anywhere else. Besides, even if he is too stiff and formal at times, you appreciate his aid in paperwork that threatens to drown you.

in fact, he's so dedicated to carrying out his duty, that you find him nearly unrobed on your bed. Seven above, that nearly gave you heart palpitations. As attractive as he is, you have no intention of forcing the boy to give up his virginity against his will, even if he is married to you.

you explain this to him as patiently as you can, even when his face scrunches up in hurt and confusion, asking if he wasn't enough–but you shut that down immediately. He is more than enough, and he isn't obligated to do anything he doesn't want to, even if his mother taught him otherwise. the revelation shakes his mind, causing his walls and views to crumble before him in the following days. you would like to think he became less stiff as he realized his true worth.

That is when an unexpected addition to your harem happened.

Actually, it was completely by accident. Your servants had often brought you various snacks and sweets during your work, as you were infamous for being extremely cranky without the motivation of good food. When Riddle, of all people, brings you a strawberry tart while you’re in the middle of some particularly grueling financial budget papers, it gives you pause.

It's not that you didn't trust him. It’s just…this is the boy who refused to eat more than the healthy amount of sugar. Even if you offered him various pastries and cookies, he always shunned them, saying it wouldn’t be right for him to consume them.

So you spear a fork into the tart and bring it up to your mouth. When the bite meets your tongue, you swear your soul ascends to heaven. The taste is absolutely indescribable: the crust was flaky and light and the filling was sweet and creamy. This has got to be the best dessert you’ve ever tasted in your short life.

When you inquire Riddle about where he had gotten his hands on the tart, he shyly looks away from you and mumbles something under his breath. Not wanting to pressure him, you decide to let it go with a request to send your highest compliments to the patisserie.

Since then, he is the one bringing you various treats, all unbelievably delicious tasting, each time you’re stuck among paperwork and meetings. You’re grateful, even if it does make you wonder who this mysterious patisserie is. You’re not particularly familiar with every kitchen staff member, but you would think that you would be aware of such talent residing in your walls.

The truth finally comes to light when Riddle bursts into your office one day, in tears and hyperventilating, as he collapses in your arms. Alarmed, you quickly try to make sense of his babbling words.

It turns out that the very patisserie wasn’t in your kitchens, as you thought. No, they were humble commoner folk who ran a modest bakery in the shopping district. Riddle had been secretly visiting the bakery whenever he had the time to buy their desserts and to visit his friend, the owner’s son. Problem is, his mother had found out and was furious that her son would debase himself and his reputation like that.

Trey Clover stands behind his parents with wide, frightened eyes as Duchess Rosehearts shrieks on about how she’ll shut down the establishment herself for daring to corrupt her son and so forth. It’s rather annoying that she would go this far in the name of parental love–thankfully she stops screaming once she catches sight of you.

For once, you’re thankful for the absolute authority of imperial power. Duchess Rosehearts begrudgingly draws back when you block her attempt to defame the bakery. With a disappointed glare searing over the rest of you, she storms out of the bakery, door slamming shut behind her with a deafening crack.

You watch with mild interest as Riddle rushes forward and envelopes Trey in a tight hug that nearly knocks the tall man over. Despite the fact that Trey should be the one more distraught, he comforts Riddle with an ease that is almost suspiciously, dare you say, reminiscent of fondness. You look away before your thoughts dwell on it for too long.

Of course, it’s not all over. Trey’s parents kowtow at your feet with desperate gratitude, even if you beg them to stand up and raise their heads. As you glance over at Riddle in Trey’s arms, thoughts begin to arrange themselves into a proposal.

You and Riddle both know that Duchess Rosehearts would not stop here. Your presence was only a mere temporary hurdle in her plans to bring down Clover Patisserie, and there was no telling what she would do next. So, you propose something nearly unheard of to them.

Your vassals will throw an absolute fit if you openly sponsor their bakery and provide protection without something in exchange. It leaves a bitter taste in your mouth, but this is the only way that Trey and his family would be safe.

Surprisingly, he accepts the proposal with grace, becoming the second consort of your harem that very day.

He inquires if there’s anything he should be aware of for his duties, making you laugh raucously and Riddle blush to the roots of his strawberry hair. You wave him off, telling him he only needs to do the things he loves and to bring you more of those tarts that cured your stress during your work times. The smile he gives is radiant and you wonder how it is that Riddle managed to find someone who makes the sun pale in comparison.

The next day, Riddle tells you between paperwork that he gifted Trey his own kitchen to bake and cook, and you nod in approval. It’s too easy to tease him over his obvious favoritism toward the baker, and it only makes you want to bully him more when his face becomes tomato red.

The annual royal banquet comes up and it dawns on both you and Riddle that Trey will have to present himself to the feral noble masses who are itching to know who this new addition is. The three of you are thrown into a hurricane of preparations, not just for the banquet, but to prepare poor Trey, who has never attended such an elite event, for the troubles ahead.

It’s certainly not for naught, you think, as you rake your eyes over your consorts. Their beauty outshines everything, in your personal opinion. When you make the introductory speech, you’re well aware that the audience in front of you is not just dazzled by you, but rather the two handsome men dutifully hovering behind you.

You hope that Riddle is enough of a buffer when the nobles inevitably swarm them with excited and curious eyes. As much as you would like to help, you were stuck with your own battles of greeting various guests and entertaining those who were trying to butter you up.

The Diamond family catches your eye first.

It wasn't something positive, per say. But it is quite hilarious as the Marquis introduces you to his family: his wife, his two elder daughters and his only heir and son–only to find the aforementioned son missing. He’s left stuttering in shame even if you don’t particularly mind. It would’ve just been another boring greeting, but at that moment, his eyes dilates in fear, and when you follow his gaze, you see why.

Cater Diamond is currently flirting with Trey. And very openly, at that.

The sight should make you furious, and yet you nearly burst out laughing. How could there be anyone this daring? Surely the young man would know better than to try hitting on an imperial escort–if he was aware that is, of the man being one.

You decide to be the merciful mediator, because Riddle is nearly about to blow a gasket by Trey’s side and Trey looks like he’s too flustered to appropriately reject the advances of the eldest Diamond son.

“Lord Diamond, I do believe your father is looking for you.” His face is full of surprise at the image of you grinning at him in amusement when you gently break the awkward atmosphere.

After he leaves in a hurry, your two consorts apologize profusely for letting the flirtations happen. You reassure them that it was fine, that whatever they liked to do was not meant to be dictated under your actions. However, their faces still remain guilty and dismayed, as though you had reprimanded them instead.

The encounter remains in your mind as an entertaining memory. So much so, that when your vassals pester you again on adding another member to your harem, your mind immediately goes to sparkling jade green eyes and vivid orange hair.

If anything it was on a whim. Of course, you consulted both Trey and Riddle before sending the invitation, and they both agreed, even if Riddle looked much grumpier than usual. You hardly believed that the proposal would be answered favorably; after all, you’ve learned from recent gossip that Cater Diamond was a rather well known playboy. You doubt that kind of man would enjoy being tied to an imperial harem, even if it was under your lax control.

Perhaps that is why it’s so surprising that when he finally is in front of you, he acquiesces to your proposal with no hesitation at all. You ask in disbelief if he was sure of his decision, and he affirms it with no distaste in his voice. He notes your incredulous face, giving a cheeky grin in response.

Apparently he's been wanting to separate himself from his family for a while. The reason for his scandalous affairs were only attempts at getting his family to send him away, but he never succeeded. He says that your proposition finally gave him the freedom to be away from his family. While you don't want to pry further, it confuses you on how the Diamond family managed to raise such an eccentric young man.

Regardless, he becomes the third member of your harem. There were some small tensions between him and Riddle, but thankfully they resolved rather quicker than you expected–it seems that although Cater acted rather laid back, he has skills in organization and networking that even Riddle had to begrudgingly acknowledge. Ask him on the most recent gossip on the nobles and he's sure to provide you a list alphabetized on the latest trends around the capitol. Besides, it seems him and Trey get along quite well—too well, in a way. You don’t think you’ve seen a pair more prone to exchanging sensual, fleeting touches. Well, that’s not your problem.

You pray that nothing more eventful comes up in the meantime. Trey could only supply you with so much cake and cookies before you simply keeled over from sugar intake.

It seems the Seven were not on your side.

The Knights' jousting tournament was something that slipped your mind. When it gets brought up on the agenda in a meeting you silently curse. In the racket of you ascending to the throne and tending to your harem, you had neglected a big aspect to your royal life.

Personal guards. Normally, you should've had personally assigned soldiers that would accompany you for protection, but you've kept putting it off since you were able to protect yourself just fine with your abilities. And hiring new people, for any reason, was always going to be a long chore of vetting, paperwork, and tests.

The worst part is that Riddle and Trey joined in on the nagging. Going on about how they worried for your safety as if you weren't already trained in self defense and swordplay since your childhood days. Cater just shrugs when you look at him desperately for help and winks while running off to who knows where. Traitor.

Whatever. The sooner you pick, the sooner they'll get off your back.

Somehow this year's tournament is rather disappointing. Your three consorts give commentary throughout the matches, but it cannot stop the boredom starting to overtake you. Trey discreetly offers you a cup of wine and you take it gratefully.

The announcer signals the start of a match, with Ace Trappola and Deuce Spade taking a stand against each other. You hear Riddle faintly murmuring to your side about how they look rather young to be in a tournament like this. But you're rather absorbed in their intense fight, to the point where Cater teases you, asking if your taste included younger men. you roll your eyes and tell him to be quiet.

The fight ends in a spine tingling draw. Both men have their swords knocked out of their hands, but they’re still glaring at each other with such raw passion, that it’s fascinating. You know you will hardly meet any others that could catch your attention.

The end of the tournament ends with the roar of the crowd shaking the colosseum and the boisterous victory announcement. The two of them weren’t finalists, but that matters little to you. The victor was impressive. But they weren’t what you wanted.

“Ace Trappola, at your service, your majesty.”

“Deuce Spade, at your command, your majesty!”

The two greet you with enthusiastic fervor that has you chuckling in amusement. They are just the breath of fresh air you need.

“Starting from today, you two will be my personal guards.”

They’re left with gaping mouths at your bold statement. Your consorts, too, are sputtering at your side. Riddle is already trying to convince you to reconsider. Trey is gently trying to ask if you’re really sure about this. Even Cater, for all his light-hearted banter, chokes an incredulous scoff, covering his mouth with a fist.

Yes, there’s always the threat of treason, and they might be slackers, but if you were going to have to employ someone, you’d rather it be someone entertaining.

Regardless, the two are knighted and become your guards in record time.

For several days, a persistent headache haunts you with how much Ace loved riling up Riddle for no reason, or Deuce somehow managing to blunder his way into destroying several pieces of priceless antique furniture. It takes only two days for Riddle to kneel at your side, begging you to please just switch guards, these two were ridiculously incompetent and not worthy to serve under you, but you only pat his head and send him off back to his chambers to rest.

Trey and Cater were arguably more agreeable, but you don’t miss their tired looks whenever they had to clean up after Ace pissing off a passing noble or Deuce somehow causing a fire when tripping over an iron poker. It makes you feel guilty, of course, but you still cling on. Call it stubbornness but you didn’t want to let go of the two. It was selfish, you know, and monarchs could never afford to be selfish, but was it so wrong for you to indulge in the only pair who seemed to disregard your status?

The answer came one hot summer evening, when you’re on your balcony trying to unwind. Tonight was the usual designated night to share a bed with your consorts, but you deigned to postpone it since you weren’t in the mood nor did you want to force the other three to deal with your sour attitude. It’s halfway through your third glass of wine that you were a rustle, then after starting your fourth, you hear footsteps, to which you turn and just narrowly miss a dagger aiming for your heart. The blade instead rips a gash through your left shoulder, causing you to grunt in pain, alcohol thankfully dulling most of the throbbing sensations. Unfortunately, your mind is hardly clear enough to have a steady stance to fight back properly, let alone see the assassin’s face.

You can’t believe you were going to die pathetically like this. If this was going to happen anyway, you should’ve at least finished your glass of wine—

Shouts, then sounds of clanging steel, and a blur rushed into your sight, tackling the hooded assassin and knocking him down. Deuce’s familiar blue hair registers in your blurry vision, holding down the assassin, while Ace’s flaming hair and eyes come closer in view, shouting something that keeps fizzling out to nothing. Your world tilts to its side suddenly, a loud buzzing in your ears, and everything goes black.

When you come to, you find Riddle with swollen, tear-crusted eyes hugging your bedsheets, while Trey exhaustedly sits behind him next to a wash basin and several empty vials. Cater was out cold on the chaise beside him, several papers littering his body. It seems that the assassin was quite thorough, as they made sure that if their sharp blade didn’t manage to end your life, then the quick acting poison laced upon the steel would. Ironically, according to the herbalist and doctor, because you drank a whole wine bottle, the alcohol managed to slow it down somehow just long enough for you to get treatment. A miracle, indeed.

For once, the room is no longer filled with tension with all five of the men together, but a genuine sense of relief. You give the two of your knights soft smiles and a sincere thank you which makes their faces flush like a ripe strawberry. Your escorts don’t protest, mirroring the same gratefulness in their faces.

Something changes after that night.

Of course, you’re extremely glad that Riddle is no longer blowing his top off after Ace goads him about being a stick in the mud, but since when did Ace get into pet names with Riddle? Rosebud? The nickname makes you gag internally at how corny it is. Not to mention that Riddle…doesn’t mind being called that?! You watch in disbelief as he preens at the compliment from your knight, trying not to give away your incredulousness.

Okay…whatever, at least they’re getting along?

Deuce shows up with your slice of cake with a beaming glow that has you taken aback as you accept the offering. Ace mutters about how Trey must’ve spoiled him again behind you and it takes everything inside you to not spit out your cake mid-bite. Again? Trey was kind, you’ll give him that, and he did tend to baby Riddle and you but—

On second thought, perhaps this wasn’t out of left field.

Cater titters knowingly when you slump in bonelessly into the lounge next to him trying on new earrings and bangles.

“And what ails my dearly beloved king?” You choke on your spit before glaring at him. He giggles, dangly silver drops chiming in tune with the laughter.

“Not you too…” It felt like the whole day you felt like you were background to some of the most insufferable flirting, and with your escorts and knights, no less. You raise an eyebrow at the shiny, glittering jewelry scattered on the vanity in front of the man. All imperial escorts did have an allowance, but you don’t remember Cater buying anything like this nor gifting him such things. When you inquire about it, Cater gives you a smirk and a wink.

”Rido and the younger ones have been quite sweet lately.” The sentence makes you nearly fall off the lounge. He chortles and blows you a mock kiss with no shame as you sear him with another heated glare.

The way they started interacting starts making you feel self-conscious and…embarrassingly enough, left out. Which is such a foolish thought. Of course, who would in their right mind love the person who tied their lives to them, romantically and sexually? And even though they were in such a situation, the fact they all loved each other was a blessing, wasn’t it? How many history lessons did you have where the monarch’s harem wasn’t full of in-fighting? That meant more prosperity and stability political wise, and there wouldn’t be any trouble between you…

Yet, your heart clenches at the thought of Trey’s smile directed at Cater, of Riddle gently caressing Deuce’s head, and Ace slinging an arm around Deuce…none of that affection could ever be for you.

And it’s best that way. Your father’s voice echoes distantly in your mind. You watched him solemnly on his deathbed as he implored you to not make the same mistakes he did, before his breathing stilled, and his hand lay limp in yours.

Yes, perhaps it was better this way.

Still, your thoughts are still wandering that you barely jolt back to present to a cabinet meeting looking expectantly at you.

“Pardon, could you repeat that?”

Riddle watches in worry as a dark shadow crosses your face as the demand for your harem to grow is conveyed. He coughs, causing the members to turn to him instead.

”If that’s the case,” he states with no hesitation, “then I might have some candidates in mind.”

You turn to him with the same expression as the other cabinet members. It drops to shock at Riddle’s suggestion.

As much as you wanted to oppose it, there wasn’t really a good reason to. You sat with your arms crossed as Riddle explained the proposal to your very two personal knights. Ace and Deuce exchange looks, and something between them is communicated before they turn to you and accept, despite your hope they wouldn’t.

And so, your harem became five.

You put your foot down after that. It was already enough to have your heart cracked into pieces with the knowledge you could never have their love. You don’t think it could handle another.

So you tuck your heart away as you smile with them over dinner, bantering over whether flamingos can play croquet or dancing with them at various balls, heart racing as the chandelier lit their face with a warmth you’ve never seen before. If it means you won’t get hurt or distracted, then that’s all you could ask for.

One fateful day, a letter out of numerous piles is hand delivered by Cater and changes your entire world.

It’s sealed with the crest of the fairest queen in the seven realms, meaning only one person could have sent this—Vil Schoenheit. Inside the elegant letter details a marriage proposal that listed all the benefits of taking him as a spouse. With all the pros listed out so cleanly, it was clear that the queen already knew that you couldn’t reject it so quickly.

But you must dissolve your harem. I do not take kindly to those who are not loyal to me and me only.

Something in your heart cracks at reading the condition. You should feel elated, somewhat, that you no longer had to drag around escorts for formality. And for the others, it meant being freed from a duty they were all forced into. But tears threaten to bubble over your eyelashes, and when Riddle asks you if you’re alright, one manages to overflow and trail down your cheek like a traitorous banner.

You don’t want to let them go.

Trey asks for the nth time if you’re sure you don’t want him to be with you or if you want some tea before you shoo him away. Ace and Deuce were meant to guard your chambers, but you wave them off too, saying you’ll find stand-ins for their places. Riddle and Cater were harder to shake off, but even they, too, were finally shut out when you closed your bedroom doors in their worried faces.

In the end, like a coward, you couldn’t bring yourself to tell them what that letter was, despite them asking nonstop about it. You’re not sure what to tell them either—that they were being discarded of their positions, no longer needed, but it wasn’t out of maliciousness—oh, who would even believe you?

When Vil graces your halls, the looks your escorts give you is enough to fill you with burning hot shame.

Cater doesn’t have his usual mischievous smile when he greets the queen, his emerald eyes sharpening to pin pricks whenever Vil speaks. You should’ve scolded him, reigned him back, but the guilt eating away at you made you hesitate. It didn’t help that Riddle, for all his perfect etiquette, suddenly seemed to forget what formalities and niceties were around the queen. The regal queen gives you a strange look as Trey sets down a plate of pastries a little too hard in front of him. Your gaze darts away as you sip the tea in front of you nervously, flanked by Ace and Deuce, their scowling faces too apparent.

They’re not dumb. Royals don’t visit other realms willy-nilly often. And it’s clear what Vil is here for.

The next day leaves you lethargic and sluggish, but you try to pull through, if only for appearances. While you stroll through the gardens with Vil, you try to avoid the burning stares of your guards behind you, no doubt dissecting each and every bit of your conversation with the queen. They pull you away as soon as the clock hits the afternoon hour, stating you had duties to attend to and so on and so forth. You excuse yourself and hope you don’t look like a mess to Vil, whose appearance is still immaculate despite the heavy winds and hot sun.

You try to focus on the stack of papers in front of you, despite the edges of your vision blurring and your head spinning. Taking the last sip of what remained of your tea, you squint uselessly at the words as Riddle murmurs something to your right about dinner and farewell banquets. The last thing you remember is the smell of chamomile and poppy flowers and the last document regarding international treaties.

By the time you wake up from your ill-timed nap, it was midnight and it had been decided that you were too unwell to properly receive the fairest queen, and thus Vil would be sent back, to come back another time. Cater explains with a tight smile while Riddle nods along. Behind them, Trey pours another cup of warm milk and offers it to you with a sympathetic smile. You take it, despite the guilt threatening to swallow you alive.

The days following are a haze of routines that you thought you once knew but couldn’t process. Nothing had changed, right? It seemed like you couldn’t recall what Trey made for you for yesterday’s tea, nor whenever Cater asked you for an opinion on his outfit. Before, you remembered the guards’ shifts to the letter, and yet, you completely forgot when Ace took over to guard you. Riddle smiles at you like usual, helping you with paperwork as usual, and yet…why couldn’t you remember what you had signed yourself?

Some nights you wake up to Trey or Cater, running their hands over you, despite the fact that they weren’t there before when you went to bed. Sometimes, it would be Ace and Deuce, bickering in hushed whispers before they shut up seeing you awake. And every time morning came and soreness set in your body, Riddle would greet your groggy face warmly, wiping away sweat and a strange stickiness that clung to your skin.

The thought of marriage is erased from your mind, and slowly, but surely, you can’t remember why you thought of breaking apart the men who treated you so fondly.

Perhaps you should have heeded the tales of those who ended up being puppet kings.

#yandere twisted wonderland x reader #yandere twisted wonderland #yandere twst #yandere heartslabyul #yandere reader insert #a wip i had in storage forever and didn't think i would ever get to finishing but here we are babeyyyyy #i am projecting har dbu talso mmmmmmmmmmmmheartslabyul rights

436 notes · View notes

someonesblog1555 · 1 year

Text

Astrology observations: 18+

Lilith in the 10th house can give someone a reputation for being a slut, and also a tease. People automatically assume the worst of you. People make absurd rumors about these people, and others actually believe them or believe them with ease. Another thing I’ve noticed is that these people are viewed as sex symbols. Even before they’ve done anything sexual they already have a reputation for it.

I have this theory that men with mars in weaker signs such as Taurus, Libra, and Cancer are more inclined to seek out more than one women to feed their ego. These men are also extremely attractive to the opposite sex. One cancer mars I knew had more female friends than male ones. Taurus and Libra mars men always seem to have lots of women who have crushes on them.

Men with weak mars tend to be great in the sac. A cancer mars boyfriend of mine literally read smut to become better in bed. Crazy.

Sidereal Libra risings are gorgeous in a very noticeable way. All my friends and family who are objectively extremely beautiful have this placement. Which makes sense because Libra is the sign of symmetry and Venus (beauty) Honestly model status looks.

People with lots of Saturn aspects tend to have difficult lives.

The most aspected planet in your chart can give you a lot of insight into the energy you give off.

The T-Square really does indicate popularity and fame, but depending on the person this can be either good or bad. I knew a girl who had the T square in her and chart and there is no denying that she was well known. Everyone in our town knew her name, but in a bad way lol. But you know what they say, bad publicity is still publicity nonetheless.

Jupiter and sun in the first house can make someone extremely loud and obnoxious. 😂 Also no filter.

Sidereal Libra suns may give off the vibe that they don’t need anyone, but in reality their ego is dependent on what others think of them.

Rohini moons are captivating. Everyone always talks about their eyes piercing your soul. The type of person that could make anyone think they are soulmates.

Also sidereal Pisces mars women are usually extremely attractive.

A loaded 7th house indicates an abundance of romantic partners.

Rahu in the 12th might lead someone to become addicted to drugs and sex.

You know how people say “you can’t explain attraction?” Alright… but explain Mars conjunct moon synastry. And Venus conjunct mars. Like nearly every couple has this. It’s bizarre. Can’t be coincidence 😭

Saturn in the 2nd house are penny pinchers.

Rahu in the 7th house consumes relationships and can never be satisfied by them. They run through multiple people looking for the one, but they are ultimately left lost when these people can’t fulfill their needs. Ultimately they see themselves through their relationships (Ketu in the 1st{ tail with no head}) They can’t see themselves, so they use others to help gain clarity. I’ve seen these people completely mold themselves into the person they are dating. (Which is normal, but these changes are drastic!!!! Like changing from a nerd into a skater boy, into a goth, into a fighter, into a horse rider in a short amount of time.) Honestly I can appreciate how chameleon they are, they can always change, but they are never sure of who they are.

I’ve read about Moon conjunct Venus men being more inclined to cheat. I observed this once in a boyfriend of mine. (He also had retrograde Venus) which might of affected it. His moon and Venus were in the 8th house (sometimes associated with death) and moon and Venus (commonly associated with the mother) his mother died a few months into our relationship, and he blamed me for her death(long and complicated story) He still wants to see me all the time, and the other day I was talking with his girlfriend (that he claimed that he was broken up with ) and she literally said “I really don’t think he would fuck the bitch that killed his mom.” So I can’t even make this shit up. 😭

#mars synastry #astrology #synastry aspects #moon conjunct mars #venus synastry #astro placements #astrology observations #taurus #aries #vedic astro observations #vedic astrology #libra rising #saturn

2K notes · View notes

famwhy · 10 months

Text

Right Way Up (03)

Stranger Things

Yandere! Steve Harrington X F!Reader, Yandere! Eddie Munson X F!Reader, Yandere! Billy Hargrove X F!Reader

Synopsis: You always hated when your favourite characters died in shows or movies; always longed to have the opportunity to save them. So when you're transported into one of your favourite shows of all time, what else are you supposed to do besides save your beloved characters?

Warnings: Threat/violence, Gore, Mentions of sexual content (implicit), Death, Manipulation, Depictions of toxic relationships, Drugs and alcohol abuse

Note: I know Steve's initials are on this chapter but that doesn't mean this chapter is focused on him, just a head's up.

prev part. masterlist. next part.

03. bring unto me altruism

trait: s.h.

"YOU know him?"

Your gaze wandered over the top of the BMW, breaking away from the (very sturdy-looking) back of Billy Hargrove to instead lock eyes with Steve Harrington—the latter of which had his own optics thoroughly narrowed in your direction.

"Huh?"

"The new guy—" he scoffed out, and you watched as his lips tugged down, brows furrowed very harshly, "—do you know him?"

Ah, shit. You have got to stop slipping up, Y/N.

"No." The response came out quick—and you turning around to face Billy again came quicker. He was still walking off—skinny jeans making it almost impossible to ignore his figure, very clearly outlining his... ahem just as they had in the show. "I certainly wouldn't mind getting to know him, though."

"Ew, gross."

"Oh please, like you can talk."

"I can talk, actually, and—hey! Where are you going?"

Midway through his sentence, you had started off towards the school, strutting after the dirty blonde with just as much feigned confidence in your walk as he.

It was rude to walk off halfway through a conversation but that was probably the least of your worries right now. You had a plan and if you wanted to execute it, you couldn't let Billy out of your sight.

"Y/N?"

"Just heading to class, don't worry. Walk Nancy to her first period then head to yours, 'kay? I'll be fine."

What exactly were you doing? Simple—remember the other day when you had no clue where you were going and had to rely on Steve to get you to your classes? Well, today, you could follow Billy Hargrove and, with any luck, you'd end up finding the counselor without having to ask for help and sounding suspicious.

Although, the last of anyone's guesses as to why you were acting peculiar would be that you came from a whole other world; one wherein they were all characters on a screen with almost three-quarters of them being completely irrelevant to the plot and, therefore, not even paid the littlest of attention to by the audience.

Still, better to be safe than sorry.

You had many more worries running rampant in your mind, all loud and overwhelming, grand and all-consuming—almost to the point where you had bumped into the defined back of the 80s bad boy; a defined back which, all of a sudden, wasn't moving like it was just moments ago.

Why did he stop?

The answer to that question was written clearly on the solid plate stuck to the blank, beaten door before you: COUNSELOR.

Your ears perked up as a jingle sounded from the metal knob, a strong, slightly-tanned hand wrapped firmly around it.

The door refused to budge.

"Ah shit," came the steady curse of the broad male. His body had shifted after that, and even an idiot could tell that he was about to turn around, so you did what any sane person would do—you flung yourself to the side and crashed your butt against one of the chairs snugly tucked against the wall.

Ouch... you'd think the chairs next to the guidance counselor's office would be a little more comfy to land on.

If Billy had found your actions at all weird, he showed no signs of it—choosing, instead, to plop himself down on the seat next to you; pink lips pulled into a straight line and ocean-blue gaze as cool as steel. If eyes were the windows to the soul, then Billy's glass panes were sure-as-hell foggy beyond belief because you hadn't grasped a single glance at his soul.

But... you still knew what it looked like, the shattered crystals left behind in the wake of his past, ready to prick whoever dared come near with their razor-sharp edges—and that thought had your heart squeezing painfully, both in sympathy and guilt; sympathy for his unfortunate circumstances and... guilt for knowing so much about this boy who hadn't a single clue that you existed before... well, any of this.

"'S there a reason for your staring, princess?"

You blinked, all of a sudden being the recipient of a grin that didn't quite seem to reach the eyes of the sender.

"Huh?"—damn, caught lost in thought again—"Oh! Uh, you're my new neighbour, right?"

He arched a brow.

"Cherry Lane?" You added. "My brother told me someone moved in and you don't look like anyone I know."

His mouth stayed sewn shut and you chose to keep going.

"I think I saw you get out of your car earlier too, there was a California tag on it, is that where you used to live?"

Again. No words. Though, this time, his lips pulled taut and any sign of that previous expression had vanished.

"I always thought the Golden Coast was pretty." You weren't an idiot, you saw the change in his expression—the shift in his gaze—but you didn't let it stop you, continuing to speak with a small, gentle smile, "I'm thinking of going one day."

His eyes had softened a little at that, and he parted his lips—looking as though he was about to speak—when, all of a sudden, a sound reverberated through the near-empty hall, and he closed them once more, raising a brow before sending a pointed look your way.

You felt it coming, the rumble deep down in the pits of your stomach, but you were helpless in stopping it—in containing it—and it arrived before you could even blink—

—a low growl.

Your fist rose up, a light cough leaving your mouth as your gaze awkwardly drifted to the side. "I, uh, didn't eat this morning."

Silence.

Then—to your utter surprise—soft, mirthful chuckles flooded your ears, causing you to whip your head around so fast, you almost sprained your poor neck. Beside you was a sight for sore eyes; one that resulted in your jaw dropping all the way to the floor and your eyes practically bulging out with how much they'd widened.

Billy Hargrove—the Billy Hargrove—was laughing.

His soft, golden curls bounced with each bout of snickers that left his mouth—beautiful, azure eyes crinkled and barely visible past his squinted lids—and yet—they still looked just as striking as usual, as mesmerising and jaw-dropping as on TV—if not, more so.

And then, it really sank in.

You made Billy Hargrove laugh.

And it wasn't some fake, obligatory giggle—nor was it that little, psychotic laugh he did when hysteria clouded his usually-cold gaze—no, it was full-blown, genuine laughter. And you caused it.

That thought had your chest swelling with a lot more pride than it probably should've—

"What's up with the tattoo?"

The question left his mouth much more comfortably than his previous words, flowing out with a small, slightly-smug quirk of his lips, and it took you a moment to register the fact that he had stopped chuckling, his gaze having drifted down—specifically, towards your wrist.

You trailed his gaze, finding yourself being met with the three, thick lines that had been there since the day you arrived in this world and—unsure of why they were there yourself—you shrugged. "Dunno, I think I got it while blackout drunk once."

Something about your response must've been funny because he officially chuckled for the second time since meeting you. "I didn't know you country folk knew how to party that hard."

Now, you might've not been from Hawkins yourself but... something about the way he said that had your eyes narrowing slightly in his direction, and you sprung up from your seat, the underside of your thighs suddenly being greeted by cold air.

"Watch it. We can party just as hard as you Calis."

Your pupils grew shaky as you stood there, watching the next set of his actions with a tingling feeling deep down in your stomach.

One hand on his denim-clad knee, defined biceps flexing as he slowly rose up—your eyes rising with him. And as he took a step closer to you—lips twitching further up with a glint in his eyes you couldn't quite discern—you found yourself starting to slowly lose your breath, hands growing just the slightest bit clammy with the sudden blaze of active nerves you were struck with.

"Yeah?"

You gulped. "Yeah."

You felt hyper-aware as a rough, sun-kissed hand slid around your waist—fitting perfectly against the curve of your back, slowly dragging you closer, and sending a flurry of pleasant tingles straight up your spine to meet with the group that started to steadily arise in your chest; a chest that was mere millimetres from the thin, cotton material that covered his own.

Then, he leaned towards your ear, lips grazing the lobe as he whispered—a sultry lull bleeding into his tone—"Why don't you show me just how hard you can party, huh?"

Your breath audibly hitched in your throat but—before you could fret over what he'd say next, how he'd respond to your silly, little fumble—a 'click!' sounded from your side, and you threw yourself straight out of his sturdy arms quicker than a bolt of lightning—just in time, too, for the face of an older woman emerged from within the office not even moments later.

"Ah," the lady nodded, "you must be William."

Your eyes flitted over to him just in time to catch the way his jaw ticked.

"It's Billy, actually." And when he responded, his voice came out cold, different to the playful lilt it held just moments before.

It didn't take a genius to figure out the name struck a nerve.

"Ah, my bad. Would you like to come in and grab your schedule, Billy?"

He didn't respond but did as she asked, brushing past you to walk into the smaller room, only sharing a brief few seconds of eye-contact as he walked past—but those brief few seconds were enough to grant you just a tiny glimpse into the thunderous storm hidden within the pools of his irises—

—and as the door shut behind him, your lips tugged down.

You couldn't help but let your mind wander to the way his muscles seemed to tense up at the mention of California, freeze in what you could safely assume was caused by his longing to return to the freedom of his home state.

To be forced to depart from your home was nothing new, but you truly felt for Billy and his circumstances. His dad was more than hard on him—he was downright abusive, and Billy was forced to endure it without a single soul in his corner to help him through it, to guide him down the right path and teach him how to break out of the cycle of abuse he was forced into upon being born.

He was only eighteen. A goddamn child. He shouldn't have had to go through what he did.

He should've had the chance to redeem himself.

But that chance was squandered in Season 3, ripped from him akin to how his life was—a grotesque limb of mixed flesh having pierced through his chest, several other messed-up tentacles latched painfully onto his sides, bleeding him dry, draining the life from his eyes.

He didn't deserve to die.

Officially bummed-out by your own trail of thoughts, you heaved out a sigh before your ears perked up at a familiar 'click!' and your head snapped to the door again.

Out came Billy, the smug twitch of his lips back on his face—it was so comfortably situated there, in fact, that if any other person had seen it, they'd have assumed it was there the whole time.

But, despite him looking perfectly fine as he walked out of the old office, you still felt the urge to fly into his arms and wrap him in an embrace filled to the brim with promises; promises to at least provide him some level of support for what he was going through and what he would go through. Though, unlike with Eddie, you couldn't act upon it.

See, Billy and Eddie were two completely different people—where Eddie had brushed off your sudden hug quite easily—happily welcomed it, even—Billy would definitely question it, especially considering the fact that he didn't even know who you were.

And so, although it took all of your willpower, you refrained from throwing yourself onto him—choosing, instead, to stand still as he sauntered over, fingers rising up to brush against your shoulder gently; teasingly.

"See ya 'round, princess."

Instantly, a flurry of tiny, winged creatures erupted in your stomach, sending tingles through your body—up your spine to seize you at your throat, clawing into your windpipe and rendering you motionless in astonishment and awe and—

Was it just you or was it getting hot in here?

"Y/N?" You blinked, attention turning to the dark-haired female suddenly stood before you. "What are you doing here?"

Forcing yourself to forget that... whatever that was, you let a small, sheepish smile curve onto your lips. "Actually, miss, do you mind if I ask for a reprint of my schedule?"

"A reprint?" She rose a brow, arms slowly folding over her chest. "I thought you already had it memorised."

"Oh, uh,"—cue a small, nervous giggle—"you see, it kinda like... slipped my mind, y'know? And I already lost my old one so... can I have that reprint?"

She stood there for a little while longer—letting you really bask in the glory of her heavy judgement—before finally heaving out a sigh through her nose, sounding like she just aged up another ten years as she spun on her heel, full, brown curls bouncing after her.

The ground was smooth, friction practically non-existant as you rocked on your heels, awaiting the piece of paper with bated breath. The ticks of the clock suddenly didn't seem so much like white noise anymore as impatience furrowed your brows and your teeth jutted out, sinking a little into your bottom lip in anticipation.

Then, with a loud, echoing, "Y/N!"—someone had called out to you, but their voice was too high-pitched to be the one you were looking to hear—not to mention the fact that it came from the hall to your right as opposed to the office in front of you.

Your head whipped around just in time to have your whole body jerk a little as a girl skidded to an abrupt stop right next to you, her brown, soft-looking hair bouncing with an almost unnecessary amount of volume.

In her hands were several pieces of bright orange paper, all inked with a few words you couldn't quite make out—not without squinting at least.

"Hey!"

"Uh, hey..."

Who the hell was this again?

"How have you been? You haven't been to practice for a while now, the girls are pretty worried." As she spoke, she tucked a stray strand behind her ear and you squinted—trying to figure out where you'd seen her in the show.

"Oh, uh, I've just been a little sick, that's all."—seriously, who was this girl?—"I'm fine now though."

"That's great to hear!" She beamed, though her smile didn't quite seem to reach her eyes. "Listen, I'm having this party on Halloween and... I wanted you to be the first invite."

She extended one hand—flyer fit snugly between her fingertips—and you reached out, wrapping your fingers around the other end before she released it.

Eyes falling down, you took in the words written in... well, you didn't even know what font that was: TINA'S HALLOWEEN BASH. Come and get Sheet Faced.

Oh, so this was Tina.

"You'll be there, right?"

Your eyes flew back up and you were met with her intense gaze, swirling with a desperate, expectant plea you were almost saddened to see.

"Yeah," you nodded, "I'll be there."

If anyone saw the way her shoulders fell and the muscles on her face relaxed at your words, they would've assumed you took some sort of heavy anvil off her shoulders, freeing her of some sort of imaginary weight that was supposedly weighing her down.

"Thank you," she breathed out, voice practically inaudible over the air leaving her lungs.

Damn, were you that influential?—so much so that your presence would make or break a party?

"No problem?"

If you were being completely honest, you had no idea what to think of Tina—her character wasn't very explored in the show considering the fact that her role was very minor, the only thing she was really used for was the Halloween bash. But just from these few minutes with her alone, you could tell she was someone who heavily valued reputation.

"Okay, well, I should go," her voice pierced through your thoughts. "I'm thinking of inviting the new kid."

You parted your lips—about to say goodbye—when she twirled around and took off running, not even bothering to spare another glance your way.

Rude.

But as your gaze drifted down to the piece of paper in your hands once more, you found yourself uncaring of her rather unorthodox departure—too busy thinking about... something else.

"Y/N, here's your schedule."

Ah, nevermind the bash, you had your schedule now. You could finally know where you were meant to be for each period—albeit, it would take you a while to actually find the places but at least you knew what subjects you were meant to be in during the week. It wasn't much, but it was something.

Speaking of class, you were long overdue for your first period—

—and your teacher seemed to agree on that too, judging by the harsh glare situated on his face as soon as your sheepish form walked through the door. But hey, could he blame you? No, you were just trying to find your way around this stupid maze of a school.

Luckily, getting to your second class was much easier seeing as you passed it on your way to the first—but that didn't make it any less difficult to have to sit through. You were in Stranger Things—for fuck's sake!—what the hell did Newton's Third Law have to do with it?

You weren't ashamed to admit that you didn't pay attention to any of the other classes leading up to lunch—nor were you opposed to confessing the huge sigh of relief you let out once the long break period finally arrived, because—c'mon—who the hell paid attention to class when they just got transported to another world?

Not you.

So yes, you were currently happily strolling through the halls with your arms crossed over your books as you hugged said items to your chest, no sign of Steve in sight—but, you did catch a glimpse of a very familiar Lion's mane by a set of grey lockers in the corner of your eye.

"Eddie!"

Your voice must've come suddenly because he jumped as soon as you called out to him, head turning your way and one hand situating itself above his heart after he saw you. "Oh, Y/N!"

Your lips twitched up at just the sight of him. "What happened to 'sweetheart'?"

"Oh, uh, you want me to call you that? In front of all these people?"

And just like that, your lips tugged down. "Of course, why would that be a problem? Unless you're uncomfortable with it yourself—in which case, you don't have to call me by it."

Immediately, his head shook from side-to-side, messy hair bouncing crazily along with it. "No, no, not at all... sweetheart."

You'd be lying if you said that the nickname didn't garner a reaction from you; didn't result in your chest swirling with a blazing warmth.

Though, it also seemed to result in the jaw of the person stood next to him dropping to the floor; the same person you had just noticed was there in the first place. He had hair that was just as curly as Eddie's, but—unlike the male you knew—his was cut shorter, barely reaching past his ears really.

You knew this guy, he was one of Eddie's friends.

What was his name again? It started with a G. Let's see... Gavin..? No... Gary..? No...

Oh!

"Gareth right?" Relief washed through your insides when his head nodded, eyes wide and seeming to look through you, almost as if he couldn't even believe you were there, "It's so nice to meet another friend of Eddie's!"

"Another?" He seemed to have shot out of his trance at that, and it wasn't long before he gave you an incredulous look, gaze flickering over from you to Eddie, to you to Eddie, over and over again.

Then, all too suddenly, he pulled on the other male's arm and yanked him to the side—not even 3 feet of you—before resuming, "You're friends with the Queen Bee? How the hell did that happen?"

"You think I know?!"

Eddie's response was enough to garner a chuckle from you, causing both boys to quickly return their gazes to your form. Before they could comment on their fuck-up however, another voice came bellowing down the hall, calling out to you.

"Y/N!"

Unlike with Gareth before, you recognised that pretty face paired with those luscious ginger strands of hair straight away. How could you not? You had practically seen a thousand edits of them along with the 'Chrissy Wake Up' song on TikTok. Kinda hard to forget her after the Internet did its magic.

Though, it wasn't exactly unpleasant to be meeting her, and so, you gave her as bright a smile as you could muster. "Chrissy! Hey!"

"Hi!" She beamed right back at you, but unlike Tina, Chrissy's smile genuinely reached her glinting eyes, even going as far as adorably crinkling them up a little. "Tina said you were feeling fine now, do you mind coming to practice today? Only if you're okay! I know you've been sick so take as much rest as you need and don't feel pressured."

How the hell could you say no to that?

"Yeah, okay, sure! I'll come with you to practice."

You weren't sure how it was possible, but she seemed to light up even further at that, almost blinding you like the little ball of sunshine she was.

In fact, she was so distracting, you almost forgot the presence of the two boys dressed in a completely different colour pallet to you. Keyword: almost.

"Looks like that's my cue." You turned their way—if only to save your eyesight from genuinely deteriorating due to the light that was Chrissy. "It was nice meeting you, Gareth. Good to see you again, Eddie."

Just before departing, you ghosted your fingers over the covered shoulder of Eddie, wiggling them about like you had done to Steve just the day prior; a signature goodbye, if you will.

And as you walked down the halls, you picked up on one last thing coming from Gareth's mouth... one last thing that was enough to drill your feet straight into the ground.

"Eddie? Eddie, wake up!"

That phrase...

Flashes of Season 4 infiltrated your gaze; of the unfortunate victims that had their lives stripped from them; of the very girl stood next to you's body flying up, limbs distorting as they snapped irregularly, eyes not even having the pleasure of losing light with how unjustly they were gauged out from her.

Had you messed up somehow?

Had the events of Season 4 ended up being triggered too early by your mere existence?

The questions overwhelmed you—flooded through your senses and clogged up your airways with their untimely arrival. You were a puppet and they were the strings, ushering you to turn around; to rid yourself of the wool pulled over your eyes—of the blissful ignorance surrounding your form—and, helpless to their influence, you did exactly that.

Slowly, your head reared backwards—the room spinning around you—and your eyes were greeted by a welcome sight; one that breathed life back into your limbs.

Eddie stood there—eyes still very much on his face—with a familiar, light blush spread across his cheeks. Even as his form was being rapidly shook by his dear friend, he remained still, gaze trained on you. He only seemed to have snapped out of it after making proper eye-contact with you.

Two blinks. A small, shy raised hand. And a tiny wave.

False alarm. He was just flustered.

It made sense, your previous actions could be interpreted as flirting after all—and to be honest, you didn't really mind if it was (again, the Eddie Munson)—but, you'd be lying if you said he didn't just give you a bit of a scare there.

The sentence that just came out of Gareth's mouth was the very same, infamous sentence uttered by Eddie's lips just before the first death of Season 4—a rather brutal death involving the very ball of sunshine that was just tasked to retrieve you.

Speaking of that ball of sunshine—

"Y/N, you coming?"

You blinked, quickly returning Eddie's wave before whipping your head back around to face the ginger next to you once again.

You had to admit, it was very surreal coming face-to-face with people from the show who were meant to die—it felt kinda like seeing a ghost, and a part of you (just a teensy-weensy, little part) found it... well... unsettling.

But, that was just a small part.

"Yeah. Let's go."

You shook off the residual fear that lingered from that little moment before finally continuing to follow Chrissy down the hall.

The whole walk was full of her detailing you on the failed practices of the cheerleaders in your absence. Apparently, Heather tried and failed to do a cartwheel into a back-flip as part of one of the routines before dramatically throwing her pompoms to the ground and angrily muttering that you could do it instead.

You had no idea who Heather was but you wished you were there to see it.

Oh, and—with you gone—it seemed as though a lot of the girls had taken to slacking off, opting to gaze longingly at the sweaty boys that played basketball just across the Gym instead of actually being productive.

You doubted that would get any better with Billy around now.

"Well, well, well," a high-pitched voice sliced through your thoughts and you blinked, finally noticing that you arrived at the Gym. "Look who finally decided to show up."

You recognised that puffed-up, blonde hair from the first day of your arrival, the stance she took on being an almost-exact replica of the one back in the infirmary.

"Finally done punching the daylights out of some random freak in school?" She scoffed out.

"Sarah," Chrissy hissed from beside you, "don't say that. Y/N's been sick recently."

"Sick of being just as aggressive as her brother?" Sarah rolled her eyes.

Before you could retort with your own defense, however, someone else had piped in—that person being a brunette with rather short, straight hair, "You're talking like you don't wanna fuck him."

Uh—what?

"Jenny!" Your eyes flitted over to the blonde just in time to catch her reddened cheeks.

"What? It's true, isn't it?"

"Whatever, let's just..."

Sarah trailed off there, jaw hanging open as her eyes seemed to land on something not within your immediate eyesight. And when you found yourself following her gaze—you located the subject of her interest, the lack of words suddenly making sense.

Golden curls you had the pleasure of seeing up close just this morning were farther now, having just barely passed through the entrance. A cigarette hung loosely from his lips as the electricity in his eyes zapped through the Gym before finally landing on you, lips edging up into what you could only call a smirk.

It wasn't long before he sauntered over, practically demanding all of the attention in the room with his walk; attention which was happily handed over to him on a sleek, silver plate.

"All this time I've been calling you princess... when you've really been a queen," as he spoke—voice as husky as ever—a teasing lilt laced into his tone, intensifying his gaze and overwhelming you with his suffocating presence. "Why didn't you say anything, dollface?"

Breathe, Y/N, breathe. Stand your ground.

You tried to, you really did—but, the only way you'd be able to keep your composure right now was by closing your eyes and pretending you didn't see him—

—so you did exactly that.

Your lashes fluttered shut and you envisioned a blank sea of darkness before uttering out a response, "Didn't think it was important."

"Yeah?" Now, while you might not have been able to see him, you could still very well hear him, and his voice was nothing short of the perfect mixture between smooth and rough and—

Stop. It.

For your own sake—and for fear of further falling apart—you chose not to say anything and only nodded.

That was a mistake.

Instant regret hit you square in the face when you felt the gentle touch of a few, rough fingers against your chin, tilting your head just enough to rest at an angle before a surge of warm air tickled your lashes.

And as he spoke—lips almost grazing your closed lids—those familiar flying pests made their home in your stomach, "Where'd those pretty eyes of yours go? Didn't seem to stop wanting to use them this morning."

Damn him and his smoothness.

In an effort to continue to save face, you resorted to squeezing your eyes even further shut—paying no mind to the blissful warmth slowly coating your form or the teasing snickers that left the bad boy's mouth; snickers which you could practically feel the vibrations of.

"What's the matter? Have I rendered Miss Queen Bee speechless?"

Your vision was dark but you could still see the smug smirk on his face. Just wait until you gathered yourself, you were gonna make him ten times more flustered than you—just wait.

The light clearing of a throat suddenly served as a reminder that you two weren't the only ones in the room and you found yourself feeling a little... cold when Billy pulled away.

Cold? Ugh, once again, damn him and his smoothness.

Finally deeming it safe to do so, you opened your eyes, blinking a few times to adjust to the light once more before you were finally able to make out the slowly-shrinking figure of Billy Hargrove. But just as he reached the entrance of the Gym once more, he paused, one hand firmly gripping onto the frame as he called out to you over his shoulder.

"Keep your bed nice and warm for me, will ya, dollface?"

Your jaw dropped.

Someone else then said something along the lines of 'oh my god' but—if you were being honest—you were barely able to hear it over the echo of Billy's snickers as he walked away, completely amused by your reaction no doubt.

He was so unequivocally bold, you almost couldn't believe it.

"Uh, guys, I think I'm gonna take a raincheck on practice today." But, it seemed as though the other girls definitely could—judging by how the very girl who said this rushed right after Billy.

"Me too!"

"Yeah, uh, I think I'm feeling a little sick."

"Well, I, for one, am chasing up that boy."

"Not if I get him first!"

And as a majority of them rushed after the handsome male, you found yourself deadpanning.

"Bruh."

You definitely couldn't blame them though, the rest of your day was spent recalling all those scenes with him after all. Even Steve noticed your absent-mindedness in the last period of the day—trying several outlandish things to grab your attention that he only informed you of once the lesson was over.

You didn't even notice him waving his arms wildly in front of your face while the teacher's back was turned.

And even as you walked beside him, Nancy strutting ahead of the two of you after you'd picked her up from class, you still had your head roaming around in the clouds.

"Hey, Y/N?"

You hummed, half-listening, half-not.

Steve then leaned further your way, shoulder brushing your own as he whispered against your ear. "Wish me good luck?"

You blinked up at him, having paid enough attention to scrunch up your nose in confusion and ask, "Good luck for what?"

"The dinner. At Barb's?"

A few more blinks.

And then—

"Ohhhhh."

Nancy turned around at that, and Steve was quick to hush you. He only resumed talking when she faced forward once more—albeit, slower than she turned around.

"What are you doing? Trying to get me in trouble?!" His whisper came out harsh, and you winced a little.

"Alright, alright, gheez."

His attitude seemed to be at an all-time high because he rolled his eyes after that. "I just... don't get why I have to go to this stupid dinner anyway."

"Steve." It was your turn to harshly whisper. "Don't say that. Nancy needs closure, this dinner is exactly that."

You felt for Steve just a tad bit, it wasn't his best friend that died after all (thank god for that) but that didn't mean he got to complain about attending a dinner his girlfriend wanted him to be at because he was there the night of the first attack; of the first murder.

See, Barbara (or Barb) had been Nancy's best friend—the two being practically attached by the hip—so of course the night she died would be one that Nancy deeply regretted, and of course she would want closure with the parents of her best friend. It just made sense.

In fact, the whole reason why she did any of what she did in Season 2 was so that she could inform Barb's parents (who still thought their child was out there somewhere) that their kid was, in fact, dead.

"Y/N, you there?"

Caught in a monologue? Seriously, Y/N? What are you, the main character?

"Yeah, I'm here."

Seeing as you were already outside and stood right by Steve's car—you slotted your hand between the cold of both the handle and the door before pulling it open, leaping straight in, and causing the whole vehicle to jerk in a symphony of loud clangs from sheer force.

"Hey! Careful!" It seemed like your music wasn't appreciated by Steve though.

"Relax. It's not like I broke it or anything—" feeling like messing with him—because duh—a smirk slowly twitched onto your lips, "—besides, it's excited to see me, aren't you, girl?"

Steve let out another hiss when you patted the seat a little too harshly—sounding akin to a pissed off feline which just made him seem less menacing and more adorable.

Ha, you tried, Steve, you tried.

The click of the passenger door drew your eyes over to Nancy's form, watching as her legs entered one at a time before she took a seat and turned your way—"We're dropping you off then heading straight over to Barb's."—then, turning to Steve, "Right, Steve?"

You could already hear the grumbled out 'yes' coming from him and you only sent him a grin seeping with amusement when he met your gaze through the rear-view mirror—your lips stretching further as he mouthed the words 'help me' with anguish in his eyes.

"You two have fun, yeah?"

You said the sentence to piss Steve off even further but when you caught a glimpse of the look on Nance's face, a pang shot straight through your chest.

Her eyes had this far-away look about them as her lips curved up by a very small amount—though there was no joy in it, only grief.

"Hey..." you placed one hand on the shoulder of her seat, using it to pull yourself forward as you furrowed your brows, worry clouding your gaze. "You alright?"

She sniffled a little before waving her hand and nodding in response. "Yeah... yeah, I'm fine. Let's go."

Your lips tugged down and you shared a look with your best friend before he started the engine, breathing life into the vehicle as you slowly lowered your body back down onto the leather seat.

She wasn't fine; even without knowledge from the show, you could tell. She might not have been crying but her lip was definitely quivering a little and her eyes... well, they just weren't all... present in the moment.

But, she would be fine. And that was enough.

Besides, though it was cold to say, you had bigger things to worry about. Nancy would get help from Jonathan in order to come to terms with Barb's death—meanwhile, you had no one to help you out with all the spare knowledge you stored in your brain; with all the premonitions (if you could call it that) you were blessed with.

Perhaps it was time you started preparing for another bout with the demodogs—you were Steve's best friend, after all; that probably meant you'd most likely end up facing the dogs together with him later on in the Season.

"Y/N."

You perked up at the call of your name, shaking away the thoughts clinging to your brain.

"We're here."

Lo and behold, so it seemed you were, the familiar sidewalk leading up to your house being visible through the clear glass panes beside you.

Clicking open the door, you took one step out before swinging the rest of your body to follow after, and once you closed the door again, you walked over to the passenger-side window—shoes barely making a sound against the ground—before your knees bent down a little and you tapped lightly against the glass.

"Let the Hollands know I wish them the best, okay?" You offered a gentle smile to the girl sat before you, and she tried her best to muster one up in return.

"Okay..."

"See you guys."

And with a brief wave, you quickly spun around and headed towards the relatively-normal house.

You now—thankfully—had keys of your own so there was no need to knock or anything. Well—it was more like you had them all this time but didn't know where they were and just so happened to find them the other day but—details, details.

After fiddling with the keys a little, you heard a 'click!' and pushed against the handle before entering, one hand moving behind you to carefully shut the door.

"I'm home."

Curt's voice was the first to greet you—albeit, not very genuinely. "Congratulations, want a trophy?"

Uh, yes, actually. You would very much like a trophy after coming back home in one piece in the world of Stranger Things.

"We're having pasta tonight!" Luckily, Cain's words were a lot more welcoming than the other brother.

So, as was your right, you ignored your second oldest brother in favour of responding to the first. "Ooh! Pasta?!"

You had to admit, his cooking the other night was rather good—okay, it was magnificent, you just didn't wanna admit it because you stormed off the other day before being able to properly finish it.

But now that you could—

Before you could finish that train of thought, three loud knocks resounded through the room, no doubt coming from the door behind you.

Huh.

Was that Steve? Did he forget to say something?

You lightly wrapped your palm around the handle, turning it slowly before the door was open once more, a sudden, light breeze hitting you square in the face—

—though, the breeze could never be more sudden than who you saw at the door.

It wasn't your swooshy-haired companion to greet you on the other side—no—but rather, an older woman with barely visible bags underneath her drooping eyes; eyes which seemed to have lost all light, almost appearing chillingly lifeless—

—well, that was until they lit up at the sight of you.

"Oh, Y/N! Baby! I've missed you so much!"

And as she threw herself onto your form—arms engulfing you wholly, emotionally—you found yourself blanking out for once, only one thought popping up in your head:

What. The. Fuck.

@bdudette, @tanyaherondale, @killerqueenfan, @l3xiluve, @thedoubleexposurephotography, @xxqueenofdemonsxx, @briarsheart, @nickey-diano, @uselessbutinteresting, @steeldaisies, @thesebitcheslovesosadotcom, @patheticreative, @majestichugs, @eddiesbitch83, @secretdryrose, @bloodywickedvamp, @charlizekkelly

Did Billy give you guys butterflies or what? 😏 (Srsly tho, I need to know if I'm writing him well—)

486 notes · View notes

kokoch4n3l · 8 days

Text

DEAD GIRL'S BEACH࿐ྂ KUROKAWA IZANA x f!oc x SANO MANJIRO

TWELVE — his dead girl's beach

"Guarded and evasive, Mr. Kurokawa deflects introspection, avoiding confrontation of his inner demons. This avoidance hints at his discomfort with facing vulnerabilities and traumas, as he prioritizes projecting strength and control."—KANEKO MAYA'S ROUGH NOTES ON K.I

chapter summary: Mikey thinks about the past while Maya tries to remember what she missed. Izana helps Kisaki choose an engagement ring.

warnings: dark content 18+, self-loathing, mental health issues, mentions of scars, mentions of burns, drug addictions, drug use/misuse, withdrawal mentions, mental breakdowns, emotional manipulation, stockholm syndrome, past noncon, infantilization, possessiveness, emotional incest, mommy issues, dehumanization, oral sex(f receiving), cunnilingus, fingering, implied multiple orgasms, slight hair pulling(m receiving), praise kink, dacryphilia, dom/sub undertones, overstimulation, aftercare, slight ooc!Kisaki, draken & og toman slander, mental health issues, depression, vomiting, toxic and unhealthy relationships, implied emotional abuse, past character death, past picture taking, implied voyeurism, scars, memory loss, kissing, smut, handjob, piv, no prep, dissociation, creampie, use of guns, blood and gore, depiction of corpses, major character death

word count: 20 446

masterlist | previous | chapter 13

How do you put yourself back together? After breaking apart over and over, how do you put yourself back together? Maya has done it a bunch of times but...

What do you do when someone's taken a few of your shattered pieces with them?

It's not just her own brokenness she has to contend with, it's the pieces of herself that others have stolen away. Mikey and Izana, each wielding their own brand of manipulation and control, have taken parts of her that she may never get back. With a heavy heart, Maya realizes that she can't simply piece herself back together as she has done in the past. Those missing fragments, those stolen pieces of her soul, leave behind a void that cannot be filled by her own efforts alone. With a heavy heart, Maya realizes that she can't simply piece herself back together as she has done in the past. Those missing fragments, those stolen pieces of her soul, leave behind a void that cannot be filled by her own efforts alone.

The love she had for Chifuyu once seemed like a beacon of light in the darkness, a source of strength and solace amidst the chaos of her life. But now, tainted by the knowledge that his feelings may not match her own, she wonders if returning to him would only deepen the wounds that already mar her fragile heart. Would his embrace bring her the comfort she so desperately craves, or would it serve as a painful reminder of all that she has lost?

And what of the invisible scars that mar her body, each one a testament to the pain and suffering she has endured? The burn on her back may have healed, but the memory of the agony she endured at Izana and Mikey's hands remains etched into her very being. Will time erase the pain, or will it linger like the scar on her shoulder, a constant reminder of the violence and betrayal that has marked her existence?

Alone in the dimly lit master bedroom, Maya sits on the edge of the bed, her mind consumed by a storm of emotions. The silence weighs heavily upon her, a suffocating blanket that smothers any semblance of peace. In the midst of her turmoil, she is unaware of the faint creak as the door swings open, admitting a sliver of light into the shadowy room. Izana steps inside, his presence felt before he even speaks. His smile, devoid of warmth, watches her like a predator observing its prey. "Hey bunny," he says softly, his voice dripping with false concern. "Are you alright?"

She looks up, startled by his sudden appearance, her heart sinking as she meets his gaze. His eyes gleam with amusement, a silent mockery of her struggles. She forces a nod, unable to muster the strength to speak in the face of his calculated indifference. Izana moves closer, his smile widening as he takes a seat beside her. His touch, though seemingly gentle, sends a shiver down her spine, a cold reminder of his true nature lurking beneath the facade of concern. "You don't have to face this alone," he says, his voice honeyed with deception. "I'm here for you, bunny. Always."

Maya doesn't pull away from his touch, nor does she say anything. "hm... looks like you need to be taken care of more than me, bunny" He says with a small laugh

Izana moves himself so he's sitting with his back against the headboard and pillows. He gestures for her to come closer. Without hesitation, Maya crawls over and sits across his lap comfortably. She nestles closer to him, her head resting against his chest. It's a moment of vulnerability, of allowing herself to be vulnerable in his presence. Izana's lips curve into a satisfied smile as he feels her relax against him. He revels in the power he holds over her, relishing in the knowledge that she has surrendered herself to him willingly. As Maya settles against him, Izana gently runs his fingers through her hair, a gesture that feels both comforting and possessive. He relishes in the feeling of her body pressed against his, the subtle rise and fall of her chest against his own. "You know, bunny," Izana murmurs, his voice soft yet tinged with a hint of smugness, "you always seem to find your way back to me, no matter how hard you try to resist."

Maya's breath catches in her throat at his words. She knows he's right, knows that despite her best efforts to break free from his grasp, she always ends up back in his arms. "Izana," she whispers, her voice barely audible, "this... this isn't how it's supposed to be."

His grip tightens ever so slightly around her, a silent reminder of the power he holds over her. "But this is how it is, bunny," he replies softly, his tone tinged with a sense of finality. "And as long as you're mine, it's how it will always be."

Maya sighs and presses her face against Izana's chest. It had been about two and a half weeks since the whole ordeal. In total, she was held in this beach house for a month and 3 weeks. Izana is running his hands through her hair, the rough pads of his fingers scratching against her scalp. Izana was doing pretty well with the withdrawal. It seemed like having a different atmosphere really did help with recovery. Mikey is in the shower and the sun is still rising. It's way too early in the morning but they all somehow woke up at the same time— or well, Maya pretended to be asleep so Mikey didn't drag her to the shower with him. "You know..." Izana starts, resting his chin on top of her head "We didn't mean to get you addicted... we just got carried away"

Maya's heart sinks as Izana's words wash over her, the weight of his confession settling like a heavy fog in the room. "You just looked so cute high... You were clingy as hell..." He sighs, fingers trailing down the back of her neck, tracing the knobs of her spine "Sounded so cute every time you said my name so I just got carried away... Manjiro too"

Maya's mind reels at the realization of how easily they succumbed to their desires, how they let themselves be swept away by the intoxicating allure of her altered state. It's a bitter truth to swallow, knowing that their actions were driven by selfish impulses rather than genuine concern for her well-being. "I... I don't remember much of it" she admits, not looking up at him

Izana sighs, sounding almost remorseful. "Of course, you don't..." his tone changes quickly though as if remembering a fond childhood memory "You were adorable though... Could barely even sit up on your own and were so fucking clingy"

Izana's gaze softens as he watches Maya, a flicker of emotion passing through his eyes before he speaks again. "But hey," he murmurs, his voice gentle, "we took care of you, okay... You didn't die, isn't that what matters?"

Maya remains silent, her eyes downcast as she absorbs his words. She doesn't dare contradict him, knowing it would only lead to more conflict. Instead, she nods slowly, a gesture of silent agreement. Izana hums and runs his fingers through her hair again, glancing sideways as he hears the shower turn off. "There are some polaroids though... In case you wanna get a few glimpses of what happened during those 2 weeks" He tells her

Maya's heart clenches at Izana's mention of the polaroids, a mixture of dread and curiosity swirling within her. She knows she shouldn't want to see them, shouldn't want to revisit those moments of vulnerability and manipulation, but there's a part of her that can't help but wonder. "Maybe later," she mumbles softly, her voice barely audible as she tries to push aside the nagging desire to see the evidence of her own(possible) degradation.

Izana nods understandingly, though there's a glint of mischief in his eyes that Maya can't quite decipher. "Whenever you're ready" he replies, his tone almost teasing as he leans in to press a kiss to the top of her head.

Maya forces a small smile, though it feels brittle and fragile on her lips. She wonders how things were during those 2 weeks. The weight of the past hangs heavy on her shoulders, burdening her with questions and doubts that seem to have no answers. She wonders how everything spiralled out of control so quickly, how she ended up trapped in this web of deceit and manipulation. Izana's steady heartbeat beneath her ear offers a semblance of solace, a reminder that amidst the chaos, there are still moments of calm. Yet, even in his embrace, Maya can't shake the gnawing feeling of despair that gnaws at the edges of her consciousness. "Hey... Bunny..." Izana says holding her tighter against him "You're shaking"

Maya's breath catches in her throat as Izana's voice cuts through the haze of her thoughts. She hadn't even realized she was shaking until he pointed it out. "Sorry..." she mumbles, her voice barely audible as she tries to steady her trembling limbs.

She feels exposed, vulnerable beneath Izana's scrutinizing gaze, as if he can see straight through the facade she's been desperately trying to maintain. Izana's arms tighten around her, his touch both comforting and suffocating all at once. "Don't apologize," he murmurs, his breath warm against her ear. "Just breathe..."

Maya feels vulnerable and sad. She can't help herself right now. Tears well up in her eyes for a reason she isn't too sure of. She doesn't feel too good. As tears blur her vision, Maya's chest tightens with an overwhelming wave of emotion. She feels like she's drowning, suffocating beneath the weight of her own despair. Each breath comes harder than the last as if the air itself has turned to lead in her lungs. "Izana..." she whispers, her voice trembling with unspoken anguish. "I can't do this anymore..."

Her words hang heavy in the air, a desperate plea for release from the suffocating grip of her own mind. Izana's grip tightens around Maya, his arms enveloping her in a protective embrace. "Hey, hey, it's okay," he murmurs, his voice a soothing balm against the storm raging within her

But Maya can't shake the feeling of isolation, the sense that she's adrift in a sea of darkness with no shore in sight. "I can't..." she chokes out between sobs, her voice breaking with the weight of her despair. "I can't do this anymore, Izana... I wanna go home..."

Izana's grip tightens around Maya, his embrace becoming suffocating rather than comforting. "Bunny," he murmurs, his tone stern even while using that vile pet name, "this is your home now. You belong to me, remember? You don't get to leave whenever you please. So no more talking about that and no more asking for it either... Understand?"

Her tears wet Izana's shirt, but he doesn't seem to mind. Instead, he holds her even tighter, his touch strangely comforting despite the suffocating weight of his possessiveness. "Shh, I know... I know," he murmurs softly, his voice a soothing balm against her turmoil. "Stop crying."

Maya sniffles, trying to silence her sobs, but the tears keep flowing, unstoppable as a river. "I-I'm sorry... 'm sorry..." she apologizes, her words choked with emotion. "I'm tired."

"You don't have to apologize for feeling tired," Izana reassures her, his voice calm and steady. He runs his fingers through her hair in a gentle gesture of comfort. "It's perfectly natural for you to be tired."

"Just... don't ask to go home again" he warns softly, his tone tinged with a hint of possessiveness as he squeezes her tightly in his arms.

Maya continues to apologize between trembling breaths, her grip on Izana tightening as if she fears he might slip away. Each apology feels like a plea for forgiveness for something she didn't even do, a desperate attempt to soothe the turmoil raging within her. "I-I'm sorry... I didn't mean to... I just..." Her words dissolve into a choked sob, her entire body shaking with the force of her emotions.

Izana's arms remain wrapped around her, offering a sense of security amidst the chaos of her own mind. He doesn't respond to her apologies, instead choosing to hold her close, his touch a silent reassurance that she isn't alone. For a moment, Maya allows herself to forget the weight of her despair, to lose herself in the warmth of Izana's embrace. But even as she clings to him like a lifeline, she can't shake the nagging feeling of emptiness that gnaws at her from within. Each breath feels like a struggle as if the weight of her despair threatens to crush her from within. "I-I don't know what to do..." she whispers hoarsely, her voice barely audible amidst the turmoil.

She feels lost, adrift in a sea of uncertainty, with no beacon to guide her to shore. The walls of the beach house seem to close in around her, suffocating her with their oppressive presence. "I can't... I can't do this anymore..." she murmurs, her words a desperate plea for release from the prison of her own mind

Izana's touch is a lifeline amidst the chaos, his arms a refuge from the storm that rages within her. He holds her close, tight, his touch is warm. "It's okay, bunny," he murmurs, his voice a soothing melody in the midst of her turmoil. "I've got you... You don't have to do anything... Just let yourself feel... Let it all out..."

In the quiet intimacy of the moment, Maya's tears begin to subside, her sobs tapering off into soft, shuddering breaths. She rests her head against Izana's chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath her ear. "I'm sorry..." she whispers, her voice barely above a whisper, laden with exhaustion and remorse. "I didn't mean to... I just..."

Izana brushes his fingers through her hair, his touch gentle and reassuring. "Shh~, it's alright," he murmurs, his tone soft and understanding. "You don't have to apologize, bunny. You're just tired... You've been through so much..."

Maya nods weakly, her body still trembling with the aftershocks of her breakdown that probably hasn't ended yet. She feels drained, emotionally and physically spent from the weight of her own despair. Maya didn't know what she was apologizing for but she kept saying it anyway and each time Izana just hushed her. "hey, hey... Look at me" He said and put a tanned finger beneath her chin, making her look up at him

She looks up at him, her blue eyes watery and sad. "Good girl" Izana murmurs, rubbing his thumb against the thin skin under her eye, fingertips brushing against her bottom lashes "I know you're tired, I know you've been through a lot but I promise... I promise everything will be okay from now on"

Izana presses a kiss to her forehead and then continues speaking. "Everything here is for you. The house is yours, the beach is yours... You'll never have to worry about anything again, hm. We'll take care of you"

As Maya gazes up at Izana, her eyes reflect a mix of weariness and vulnerability. His gentle touch beneath her eye elicits a soft sigh from her lips, a subtle reassurance amidst the turmoil of her emotions. She leans into his caress, finding solace in the warmth of his affection. "Okay..." she whispers, her voice barely audible, her words a whispered plea for comfort.

Izana's lips curve into a tender smile, his thumb continuing its soothing motion against her skin. "You're doing so well, Bunny," he murmurs, his voice a soft murmur that washes over her like a gentle breeze. "I'm proud of you. Me and Manjiro"

As the bathroom door swings open, Mikey emerges, his presence commanding attention even in the dim light of the early morning. Maya's gaze flickers towards him, momentarily distracted from the cocoon of comfort she finds in Izana's arms. Mikey's appearance is casual yet striking, his toned physique accentuated by the absence of a shirt, and his sweatpants hanging loosely on his hips. He runs a hand through his damp hair, ruffling the dark strands as he steps further into the room. "Morning" he greets, his voice low and gravelly from sleep, a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he takes in the scene before him.

Izana's arms tighten around Maya. "Morning" he echoes, grinning lazily at his younger brother

Maya's heart flutters nervously in her chest. She shifts uncomfortably in Izana's embrace, torn between the conflicting desires that tug at her heartstrings. Mikey's gaze meets hers, a flicker of something unreadable passing between them before he breaks the momentary silence. "You alright, Maya?" he asks, his voice soft with genuine concern.

Maya isn't able to answer. She knows for a fact the moment she opens her mouth to speak she'll cry again. So instead, she presses her face against the crook of Izana's neck, clinging to him tighter. Izana's fingers gently stroke her hair as he speaks, his tone carrying a note of understanding. "our bunny had a little meltdown, Manjiro" he explains, his voice soft and patronizing.

Mikey nods, his expression softening with empathy. "Oh, poor thing" he murmurs, his eyes flickering with concern as he steps closer to them, laying a hand on the back of her neck "It's alright..."

Maya nods weakly, unable to find the words to express the tangled mess of emotions churning inside her. She feels like a child, overwhelmed and lost in a world she can't comprehend. But in the arms of Izana and Mikey, she finds a fleeting sense of security, a sanctuary from the storm raging within her soul. Izana's hand continues to stroke her hair in a soothing rhythm, his touch a silent reassurance that she's not alone. "Just rest now, little bunny," he murmurs, his voice laced with a strange mix of tenderness and possessiveness. "We'll take care of everything."

With a heavy heart, Maya allows herself to sink into the warmth of their embrace, seeking solace in the arms of those who claim to care for her. As Maya buries her face in Izana's neck, she feels a rush of conflicting emotions coursing through her veins. She's torn between the comfort of their embrace and the unsettling realization that she's become dependent on them for comfort. Izana's fingers continue their gentle caress through her hair, his touch both comforting and suffocating in its possessiveness. Mikey's hand on the back of her neck offers a sense of grounding amidst the turmoil raging within her. His words of reassurance are like a lifeline in the midst of the storm, anchoring her fragile sense of self amidst the chaos. But beneath the surface, Maya can't shake the gnawing feeling of unease that gnaws at her soul. She wonders how she ended up in this tangled web of manipulation and control, and whether there's any way out.

Yet for now, she pushes aside her doubts and surrenders to the warmth of their embrace, seeking refuge in the illusion of safety they offer. As she closes her eyes and drifts into the embrace of sleep, she knows that the path ahead is fraught with uncertainty, but for now, she allows herself to be carried away by the currents of their affection, hoping against hope that they will lead her to calmer shores.

As Maya drifts into a peaceful slumber, Izana carefully lays her down on the bed and tenderly tucks her in, ensuring she's comfortable. Mikey observes silently from across the room, his gaze lingering on Maya's sleeping form as he buttons up his shirt. There's a moment of quiet between them, punctuated only by the soft sounds of Maya's steady breathing. Mikey's expression is unreadable, a mixture of concern and resignation playing across his features as he watches over her. "she doesn't remember y'know... Should've seen it coming but I think it's a little disappointing" Izana says "She thinks we did something crazy to her during those two weeks"

Mikey's expression tightens slightly at Izana's words, a flicker of frustration crossing his features before he composes himself. Izana's voice carries a note of accusation as he turns to face Mikey, his gaze piercing. "It's your fault she doesn't remember," Izana continues, his tone tinged with frustration. "You kept getting carried away, giving her more pills than she needed. Now look at her."

Mikey's tone is defensive as he responds to Izana's accusation. "I only did it because I couldn't help myself," he admits, his voice tinged with remorse. "She looked so... vulnerable. I just wanted to make her feel better, even if it meant going too far."

Izana just chuckles. "You get obsessed so easily, don't you?" He says amusement evident in his tone "My poor bunny thought all this time I was the one hurting her and giving her those pills when it was you that kept giving her more"

Izana is making fun of him now. Mikey's expression tightens, a flicker of annoyance crossing his features as Izana's words hit home. "It's not like that," he retorts defensively, his voice tinged with frustration. "I was just trying to help her."

Izana's laughter rings out, a mocking sound that echoes in the quiet room. "Help her? More like suffocate her," he quips, his amusement turning sharp and cutting. "If Kakucho hadn't stopped you, you would've ended up overdosing her. And that's huge coming from someone who doesn't even take drugs that aren't prescribed to them"

Mikey's jaw clenches, a surge of resentment bubbling up inside him at Izana's taunts. "I know what I'm doing," he snaps back, his tone defensive. "You don't need to lecture me. And stop acting like such a saint. You were the one that gave that to her first"

As tension simmers between them, the air thick with unspoken frustrations and resentment, they both know that their dynamic is far from simple. With Maya caught in the middle, their conflicting desires threaten to unravel the fragile balance they've managed to maintain. "Yeah, I did and I admit that. But I made it clear to her from the start what I wanted from her. You on the other hand you lying manipulative little shit..." Izana says insulting him but also looking impressed "Got 'er wrapped around your finger by playing the long game. Fuck, I don't have the patience for that shit"

Mikey rolls his eyes and says "Is that why you told her the truth? 'Cause you were jealous I got her heart first?"

Izana's smirk widens into a sly grin, a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes. "Maybe," he quips, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Or maybe I just got tired of watching you manipulate her like a puppet on strings."

Mikey's expression darkens, his frustration boiling over as he meets Izana's gaze head-on. "You don't get to play the hero here, Izana," he snaps, his tone laced with bitterness. "You're just as twisted and messed up as I am."

The room crackles with tension, the air heavy with unspoken accusations and resentments. Maya's sleeping form serves as a stark reminder of the tangled web they've woven, each thread pulling them deeper into the darkness of their own making. Izana's laughter rings out once more, a cold sound that sends a shiver down Mikey's spine. "Maybe so," he concedes, his voice low and dangerous. "But at least I'm not the one lying to myself about it."

With that, the room falls into a tense silence, the weight of their shared secrets hanging heavy between them like a dark cloud. In the quiet stillness of the early morning, they are left to confront the truth of their own twisted desires, and the consequences that threaten to tear them apart. The silence stretches on, heavy with unresolved tension and unspoken words. Mikey's gaze flickers away from Izana's, his mind racing with conflicting emotions. He knows that Izana's words hold a grain of truth, but he can't bring himself to admit it.

Meanwhile, Izana reclines back on the bed next to Maya, a smug smirk playing at the corners of his lips. He watches Mikey closely, his eyes gleaming with a mix of amusement and satisfaction. For Izana, this moment is a victory, a chance to assert his dominance and remind Mikey of his own shortcomings. But beneath the facade of confidence, Izana's own insecurities gnaw at him, a constant reminder of the fragile balance he's trying to maintain. Despite his bravado, he can't shake the feeling that he's losing control, that Maya's presence in their lives is a threat to the carefully constructed walls he's built around himself. In the midst of their silent standoff, Maya stirs in her sleep, a small whimper escaping her lips. The sound pierces through the tension, drawing both Izana and Mikey's attention back to her. "shh~" Izana murmurs, being uncharacteristically gentle in front of Mikey for the first time

Izana caressed her hair, leaning down till his nose was pressed to her cheek in a soft comforting manner. As Izana leans in to comfort Maya, Mikey watches with a mixture of frustration and resignation. His fists clench at his sides as he struggles to contain the storm of emotions raging within him. "You think you can just play the caring lover now?" he scoffs, his voice dripping with bitterness.

Izana doesn't respond, his attention fully focused on Maya as he brushes a stray strand of hair from her face. There's a tenderness in his touch that Mikey finds unsettling, a stark contrast to the manipulative persona he usually wears like armour. Frustration boiling over, Mikey steps forward, his eyes narrowed in defiance. "You're not fooling anyone, Izana," he says, his voice low and menacing. "We both know what you're really after."

Izana's gaze flickers up to meet Mikey's, a flicker of amusement dancing in his eyes. "And what exactly am I after, Manjiro?" he asks, his tone deceptively calm.

Mikey grits his teeth, his frustration mounting with each passing moment. "You want control," he snaps, his voice rising with anger. "You want to keep her all to yourself, like some kind of possession. Or I dunno. A fuckin' pet?!"

Izana's smirk widens, a flash of something dark glinting in his eyes. "And what about you, Mikey?" he counters, his voice dripping with malice. "What do you want?"

The question hangs heavy in the air, and the silence that follows is filled with tension and uncertainty. Mikey's jaw tightens as he struggles to find the words, torn between his own desires and the tangled web of manipulation that binds them all together. Mikey's gaze flickers between Izana and Maya, his mind racing with conflicting emotions. He wants to protect her, to keep her safe from the chaos that surrounds them, but he also knows that he's part of the problem. "I want..." he begins, his voice trailing off as he struggles to articulate his thoughts.

Izana's smirk deepens, a knowing glint in his eyes. "You want her, don't you?" he taunts, his words like a dagger aimed at Mikey's heart. "You want her just as much as I do."

Mikey's fists clench at his sides, his frustration reaching its breaking point. "It's not like that," he insists, his voice tinged with desperation. "I care about her, Izana. I don't want to see her hurt."

Izana's laughter rings out, cold and mocking. "Oh, spare me the act, Manjiro," he sneers, his tone dripping with disdain. "You're just as possessive as I am. Admit it."

Mikey's chest tightens with frustration, his jaw clenched as Izana's words hit uncomfortably close to home. He knows there's truth in what Izana says, even if he's reluctant to admit it. The weight of his conflicting emotions bears down on him, leaving him feeling trapped in a web of his own making. As Maya's soft whimper fills the air once more, Mikey's resolve wavers. He knows he needs to confront his feelings and the reality of the situation, but the thought of acknowledging his own possessiveness fills him with a sense of shame. With a heavy sigh, he looks away, unable to meet Izana's gaze as the truth hangs heavy in the air. Izana's voice breaks through the tension, his tone soft and gentle as he soothes Maya's restless slumber. With practiced ease, he reaches out to stroke her hair, his touch tender and reassuring. "Shh, little bunny," he murmurs, his voice a soothing melody in the stillness of the room. "It's alright. You're safe here."

Maya's whimpering subsides, her breathing gradually steadying as Izana's comforting presence envelops her in a cocoon of warmth. Mikey watches silently, a knot of conflicting emotions churning in his chest. He can't deny the sense of relief that washes over him as Izana calms Maya, but beneath it all, there lingers a lingering sense of unease. As the tension in the room eases, a fragile truce settles between Mikey and Izana, their silent standoff momentarily forgotten in the face of Maya's vulnerability. Izana is humming a soft melody into Maya's ear, and Mikey freezes at the sound of the familiar tune. "Izana..." Mikey says lowly, realizing exactly what was going on just from that damn song he was humming—

—Realizing exactly why Izana hadn't just killed her that night. "you're messed up..." Mikey says breathlessly "Majorly fucking messed up"

Mikey's voice cuts through the soft melody, breaking the fragile calm that had settled over the room. Izana's humming falters for a moment, his gaze flickering up to meet Mikey's with a hint of annoyance in his eyes. "And you're not?" he retorts, his tone laced with bitterness. "We're all messed up here, Manjiro. Don't act like you're any different."

There's a raw honesty in Izana's words, a stark reminder of the darkness that lurks within each of them. Mikey's jaw clenches, his fists tightening at his sides as he struggles to contain the surge of anger threatening to consume him. "You're pretending she's her" Mikey argues, clenching his fists

He can't stand the thought of Izana projecting his past onto Maya, using her as a substitute for someone who can never come back. Mikey can't stand hearing Izana hum the same melody Emma would to him after Shinichiro died. Izana's eyes narrow at the accusation, a flicker of defensiveness crossing his features. "And what if I am?" he challenges, his voice low and dangerous. "What if I need Maya to be her?"

Mikey's chest tightens with a mix of anger and pity, his gaze hardening as he meets Izana's defiant stare. "Then you're not just messed up," he says quietly, his words heavy with disappointment. "You're delusional. Maya looks nothing like her—"

"Oh, and she looks so much like that little shit, Hanagaki, yeah?" Izana shoots back

Mikey's chest tightens at the mention of Hanagaki Takemichi, his jaw clenching with frustration. "That's not what I meant," he retorts, his voice sharp with irritation. "You're twisting my words."

Izana's smirk widens, a flash of malice glinting in his eyes. "Am I?" he taunts, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "Seems like you're the one who can't handle the truth, Manjiro."

Mikey's gaze hardens, his frustration mounting with each word Izana utters. "Don't play games with me, Izana," he warns, his voice tinged with anger. "You know exactly what I meant. Maya is not Emma"

Izana scoffs. Izana's smirk falters for a moment, replaced by a calculating glint in his eyes. "It was all fun and fine until Emma was brought up, wasn't it?" he retorts, his voice carrying a sharp edge of accusation. "You can't handle the truth when it hits too close to home, can you, Manjiro? So what if Maya doesn't look like her? I don't care. Honestly, she shouldn't look like her— Like Emma and that stupid bitch"

Mikey frowns but before he can say anything back to his brother, Maya stirs again, whimpering a little. They both watch as one of her hands comes up and fists the satin material of Izana's red shirt, grasping at it for dear life. Mikey's frown deepens, his gaze softening as he watches Maya's restless movements. The sight of her clutching onto Izana's shirt tugs at something deep within him, a mixture of concern and affection welling up inside him. "She's just a kid" he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper.

"She's 22" Izana interjects, pulling Maya into his arms

Mikey rolls his eyes. Okay so Izana could infantilize her as much as he wants but the moment he does it, it's wrong? Mikey's frustration bubbles to the surface, his brows furrowing at Izana's retort. "That's not the point, aniki," he counters, his tone edged with irritation. "You know what I meant."

Izana's smirk remains, but there's a flicker of annoyance in his eyes at Mikey's defiance. "Always so sensitive, Manjiro," he chides, his voice tinged with amusement. "But fine, let's focus on the present then. Maya is staying here, why I want her shouldn't be your business. Okay?"

Mikey's frustration lingers, but he relents with a heavy sigh, realizing the futility of further argument. "Fine" he mutters, his tone resigned

Izana expects Mikey to leave but he doesn't. Instead, Mikey climbs into bed with them on the other side of Maya and puts an arm around her waist, pressing his face into her hair. Maya, nestled between them, finds solace in their embrace, her breathing steady against the backdrop of their shared silence. Maya shifts slightly, instinctively seeking comfort from the warmth of their embrace, and Izana and Mikey hold her close, their arms forming a cocoon around her exhausted form. In the intimacy of their shared embrace, the tension between Izana and Mikey begins to ebb away. Izana brushes his fingers lightly over her hair, a subtle assertion of his presence in her life. Beside him, Mikey's arm around her waist speaks volumes, a silent declaration of his shielding stance. "Aniki..." Mikey murmurs

"yeah?"

"do you miss her?"

"Emma?"

"Yeah"

"Sometimes..."

After a moment of silence, Mikey speaks up again "Do you regret it?"

Izana's jaw tightens, a flicker of conflict crossing his features as he wrestles with his answer. His gaze drifts to Maya once more, her innocent slumber a stark contrast to the complexities of their shared history. "I don't know," he confesses, his voice tinged with uncertainty. "Maybe... Do you think Emma's cursing at me?"

"100%" Manjiro answers, sliding a hand under Maya's shirt to feel her skin beneath his palm and the tips of his fingers

Mikey's response is immediate, his touch gentle yet possessive as he seeks solace in the warmth of Maya's skin. Izana watches in silence, his own thoughts swirling amidst the tangled web of their emotions. The intimacy of the moment is both comforting and suffocating, a reminder of the complexities that bind them together. "You really think so?" Izana murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper as he traces a finger along Maya's cheek, his touch feather-light yet tinged with a sense of longing.

Mikey's gaze remains fixed on Maya, his fingers trailing over her soft skin with a tenderness that belies the turmoil within him. "Yeah," he replies, his voice soft yet resolute "Maya probably hates us"

Izana chuckles. "no she doesn't."

Mikey's brows furrow at Izana's certainty, a mixture of confusion and disbelief crossing his features. "How can you be so sure?" he asks, his tone tinged with skepticism.

Izana brushes Maya's messily cut fringes away from her forehead. "she loves like a dog"

Mikey's eyes widen slightly at Izana's comparison, a hint of surprise mingling with the confusion in his expression. "Like a dog?" he echoes, his tone laced with uncertainty.

Izana nods, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips as he watches Maya sleep peacefully between them. "Yeah," he explains, his voice gentle yet matter-of-fact. "She's loyal, forgiving, and loves unconditionally, no matter what we do."

The weight of Izana's words hangs heavy in the air, casting a shadow over the quiet intimacy of the moment. Mikey's gaze softens as he watches Maya sleep, her features relaxed in the innocence of slumber. "she's like... hm... Like a stray dog on the street but... instead of begging for food she begs for love even in places she shouldn't..." Izana continues, looking at Maya fondly despite what he's saying

Mikey's brow furrows deeper, his mind grappling with the analogy Izana presents. "A stray dog?" he murmurs, his voice reflecting both contemplation and a touch of sadness. The comparison paints a vivid picture in his mind, one that he can't quite shake off.

—after all, abusive relationships come easy when loving like a stray dog.

"Hey, how're you feeling now?" Mikey's voice is gentle as he takes Maya's hand and guides her onto his lap as he sits on the single-seat couch

It's early in the afternoon now. Maya had showered and was surprised to find that the door of the master bedroom connecting to the rest of the house was unlocked. Taking a chance she went out and found Kakucho in the kitchen cooking with Izana and Mikey sitting in front of the tv watching reruns of some anime. Despite having slept for a lot longer, Maya felt tired. But even then she forced herself to get out of bed and shower. She's wearing shorts and a random shirt that she's pretty sure belongs to Mikey. Maya settles onto Mikey's lap, his arms wrapping around her in a tight embrace. She leans into him, feeling strangely comforted by his possessive hold. "I'm okay," she murmurs softly, her voice barely above a whisper as she(almost reluctantly) nuzzles against his chest, relishing in the warmth of his presence.

Mikey's grip tightens around her, a faint smirk playing at the corners of his lips as he strokes her hair gently. "You're such a delicate little thing, aren't you?" he coos "You slept at night then had another nap in the morning 'n you're still tired. Kinda like a little baby"

Maya nods slightly, feeling a pang of guilt at Mikey's words for some reason, barely noticing how patronizing he was being. "I'm sorry," she murmurs softly, her voice tinged with uncertainty. "I didn't mean to sleep so much."

Mikey's smirk widens, his tone taking on a hint of amusement. "Don't worry about it, baby," he says, his fingers tracing idle circles on her back. "You need your rest. We'll take care of you."

There's something in the way Mikey speaks, a subtle insistence that leaves Maya feeling simultaneously comforted and uneasy. She knows she should assert her independence once again, but the warmth of Mikey's embrace is too tempting to resist. Mikey continues to stroke Maya's hair, his touch gentle yet possessive, as if he's claiming her as his own. "You know, Maya," he murmurs, his voice low and coaxing as he repeats "you don't have to worry about anything when you're with us. We'll take care of you, make sure you're safe and happy."

Maya's heart flutters at his words, a mixture of gratitude and apprehension swirling within her. She appreciates Mikey's concern, but there's an underlying sense of unease nagging at the back of her mind. Still, she finds herself nodding in agreement, unable to resist the allure of his soothing words. "Good," Mikey says, his tone tinged with satisfaction

With that, he pulls her closer, enveloping her in his embrace as if shielding her from the uncertainties of the outside world. But then again, the only uncertainty here was him. But still, Maya nodded, finding comfort in his words despite the unease that gnawed at her. "Okay" she relented, allowing herself to relax into his embrace.

"That's my girl," Mikey said, his voice filled with satisfaction then repeated, "Now, just relax and let us take care of you."

That's my girl

Maya hates herself for being so weak for simple words. A sense of warmth washed over Maya, but beneath it, a nagging doubt lingered. "I know," she replied, her voice barely above a whisper. "But I still feel guilty for sleeping so much."

Mikey's smile widened, his fingers tracing gentle circles on her back. "You have nothing to feel guilty about," he assured her

Just before Maya could say anything else, Kakucho came over with two cups of coffee on a tray. She suddenly feels very conscious of the position she's currently in— sitting on Mikey's lap, wearing his shirt, nestled into his chest with his arms around her. Sure Kakucho has seen her in relatively... worse positions but, right now as she's still mad at him, Maya doesn't like it. Kakucho however, doesn't bat an eye because he in fact has seen much worse. He simply set the tray down on the coffee table, his gaze lingering on Maya and Mikey for a moment before he spoke. "Coffee's ready" he said, his voice calm and collected.

Maya nodded, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment as she awkwardly shifted on Mikey's lap, attempting to create some distance between them. "Th-thanks, Kakucho," she stammered, her voice barely above a whisper.

Mikey chuckled softly, tightening his grip around her waist so she doesn't try to slide off. "Don't be shy, babe," he teased, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. "Kakucho doesn't mind."

Maya's cheeks grew even hotter at his words, a mixture of embarrassment and frustration swirling within her. She shot Mikey a pointed glare before turning her attention to Kakucho, forcing a polite smile onto her lips. "Thanks for the coffee," she mumbled, reaching for one of the cups with trembling hands.

Kakucho nodded in response, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He must think she wasn't mad at him anymore since she wasn't glaring at him. "Anytime," he replied, his tone gentle. "Let me know if you need anything else."

With that, he turned and walked away. Maya watched Kakucho's retreating figure, her mind swirling with conflicting emotions. She couldn't shake the feeling of discomfort that lingered in the air, a silent reminder of the tension between them. Despite her attempts to appear calm and composed, Maya knew that her anger towards Kakucho had not dissipated. Mikey's arms around her provided a sense of security, but Maya couldn't shake the feeling of unease that gnawed at her insides. She shifted uncomfortably on his lap, her thoughts racing as she struggled to make sense of the situation.

"Are you okay, Maya?" Mikey's voice interrupted her thoughts, his concern evident in his tone.

Maya forced a small smile, hoping to conceal the turmoil raging within her. "Yeah, I'm fine," she lied, her voice betraying her true feelings.

Mikey studied her for a moment, his gaze penetrating yet oddly comforting. "You don't seem fine" he remarked, his fingers tracing soothing patterns on her back.

Maya sighed, feeling the weight of her emotions pressing down on her. "I'm just really tired" she mumbles, fingers wrapping around the hot ceramic cup

She doesn't think telling Mikey that she was mad at Kakucho was a good idea. She vaguely remembers Kakucho often getting in trouble and beaten by Izana because of her. Maybe she was really mad at him but Maya doesn't want Kakucho to be punished. Mikey's expression softened, his concern deepening as he studied Maya's tired features. "You should rest then," he suggested gently, his thumb brushing against her cheek in a tender gesture. "We can talk about it later if you want, but for now, just focus on taking care of yourself."

Maya nodded gratefully, appreciating Mikey's understanding of what she wanted him to think. She took a sip of the steaming coffee, relishing in its warmth as it spread through her body. Despite her exhaustion, Maya couldn't shake the lingering unease that tugged at her thoughts. As she leaned back against Mikey's chest, she couldn't help but wonder about the complexities of her relationship with Kakucho. Despite his past actions, Maya couldn't bring herself to harbour genuine resentment toward him. She knew that his intentions were often misguided, but somehow she felt he was almost in a similar situation as her. Deep down, Maya knew that her anger towards Kakucho was born out of frustration and fear rather than genuine animosity. She feared the repercussions of her actions, knowing that any misstep could result in punishment for Kakucho.

Lost in her thoughts, Maya found herself clinging to Mikey's comforting presence, seeking solace in the warmth of his embrace. As Maya nestled into Mikey's embrace, she caught sight of Izana entering the room, a cup of coffee in hand. His presence sent a shiver down her spine, reminding her of the tension that simmered beneath the surface of their interactions. Izana settled onto the sofa across from them with his own cup, his gaze flickering over to Maya with a calculating expression. "Feeling better, I see," he remarked casually, his tone devoid of warmth.

Maya forced a smile, trying to mask the unease that churned within her. "Yeah, just needed some... rest..." she replied, her voice sounding small in the vastness of the room filled with natural sunlight.

It's a beautiful fucking day outside. It seems like nature is mocking her. Mikey's grip around her tightened subtly. Izana took a sip of his coffee, his eyes lingering on Maya with an intensity that made her squirm uncomfortably. "Good," he said finally, his lips curling into a faint smirk. "You should take care of yourself, Maya. After all, you're the most valuable asset we have right now."

"I don't see how I am..." Maya replies, feeling kind of uncomfortable now

Izana chuckled softly, a cold glint flashing in his eyes. "Oh, but you are," he insisted, his tone laced with thinly veiled menace. "You have a... unique skill set that could prove quite beneficial to our operations."

"Aniki stop fucking with her" Mikey says rolling his eyes, guiding Maya's hand up and taking a sip out of her cup rather than getting his own that was sitting idly on the coffee table "he's just being stupid"

Maya felt a surge of gratitude towards Mikey for intervening, his protective gesture providing a fleeting sense of relief amidst the oppressive atmosphere. Izana's smirk widened, his gaze flickering between Mikey and Maya with a knowing glint. "Ah, but she's such fun to tease," he remarked casually, though there was a dangerous edge to his tone. "Aren't you having fun, bunny?"

"no not really" Maya says as Mikey continues drinking from her cup

Mikey's lips twitched into a faint smile as he took another sip from Maya's cup, his eyes never leaving Izana's. "See, Maya's not amused," he quipped, his voice laced with subtle defiance.

Izana's smile faltered for a moment, replaced by a flicker of annoyance before he regained his composure. "Well, we can't have that, can we?" he replied, his tone taking on a mockingly pleasant quality. "After all, what's the point of having you here if you're not going to entertain us?"

Maya's stomach churned at Izana's words, a cold shiver running down her spine. She could feel the tension in the air, thick and suffocating, as the power dynamics between Mikey and Izana played out before her. "Have you ever considered not being an asshole?" Mikey asks his brother

"No actually but I'll consider it someday, Manjiro" Izana says teasingly, taking another sip out of his cup

Maya thinks this guy just enjoys being an asshole which isn't surprising. She would psychoanalyze him but her head is still a complete mess and she hasn't completely recovered from withdrawals to even want to think. "Anyway, I'm going back to Tokyo with Kakucho tonight. We're finalizing the deals with the Korean mafia, I'll be back in 2-3 days" Izana tells Manjiro

"Hm? Oh, do you need me too?" Mikey asks

"Nah, just stay here," Izana says "Kisaki said the fewer people involved in the deal, the better"

Maya's heart sank at the mention of Izana leaving, a mixture of relief and apprehension flooding her senses. She couldn't deny that a part of her was glad to have a temporary reprieve from his unsettling presence, but she also couldn't shake the nagging feeling that his absence would only bring more uncertainty and chaos. As Izana's words hung in the air, Maya found herself bracing for whatever came next, knowing all too well that the calm before the storm was often the most deceptive.

"w-wait" Maya slurs weakly as Mikey sucks lazily at her clit

She just feels the vibration of his lips when he hums against her, his fingers thrusting in and out at a slow pace. Her fingers tighten their grip on Mikey's hair, torn between pushing his head away and pulling him even closer. He's pulling the nth orgasm out of her of that night. Izana and Kakucho had left hours ago and how she ended up like this was really beyond her at this point. Her thighs are squeezing Mikey's head as she breathes heavily, letting out a mixture of moans and whimpers of his name. "M-Mikey... 's too much" Maya slurs weakly, pulling more on his hair

He groans against her cunt and she whimpers at the vibrations that go through her. It feels good. Everything feels good. Mikey learned what her body likes and what it doesn't. Mikey knew how to make her feel good and it's both a blessing and a curse. When she seemed even a little bit angry or her mood seemed off, Mikey would slide right between her legs and work his magic to make her feel better even if it wasn't him that was the cause of her negative emotions/attitude. "you can do a few more f'me, baby" Mikey coos sweetly after releasing her clit

Just how can she say no when he's asking so nicely? His thumb makes slow figure 8s on her clit and her legs wrap tighter around his head as her eyes roll back. Maya's fingers grip desperately at the sheets, her body so torn between keeping him close and pushing him away. "hey baby, ya' gotta ease up" Mikey says as he uses his free hands to pry her legs apart "I know it feels good and as much as I love you squeezing my head like that, ya' gotta ease up"

Maya's whimper sounds more like a sob this time as his fingers speed up after he slides up her body, pressing his forehead against hers. His hand stays nestled between her thighs with a knee keeping her legs spread for him. "A-Ah Mikey!" She whines, her eyes filling with tears and immediately spilling like an overflowing sink, her hands desperately grabbing at his clothed shoulders

Mikey is looking at her with dark eyes filled with both adoration and lust. "you're such a pretty crier" He coos sweetly, his lips brushing against hers

His fingers are working expertly on her cunt in a way he knows feels good. It almost wasn't fair how good this felt, how good he was making her feel. "M-Mikey... I... I can't" she whines, her nails digging into his clothed shoulder

Mikey simply hushes her, looking down at Maya with a look that makes her stomach twist. "You can take it" he murmurs, voice laced with encouragement as his free hand brushes her messily cut fringes away from her sweaty forehead "You've done so well for me so far, baby. 'm so proud of you... Don't you want to make me even prouder?"

That wasn't fair. Mikey knew how weak praises like that made her. How could she not want to make him proud? How could she not want to make him happy? How could she not give in when he was looking at her so softly and talking to her in such a gentle tone? "'kay... o-okay... c-can do it..." Maya's words come out slurred as another orgasm approaches when Mikey's fingers start moving faster

Maya squeezes her eyes shut but Mikey suddenly slows the pace of his thumb on her clit. "hey. eyes on me. keep them open" He demands, the tone of his voice slightly changing from soft and sweet to authoritative and stern

She's gasping out for air at this point. Her body is overly spent and her mind is exhausted but she listens to him anyway, glazed blue eyes meeting endless black ones. "good girl. good girl. Now keep them open for me. I want to see your eyes when you come"

It feels like there isn't enough air but also too much at the same time. Maya has lost count of the amount of times Mikey has made her come. It feels like her brain is melting into a pile of mush and her nerves are on fire. But still, nothing hurts yet. She just feels so overwhelmed by pleasure it's simply too much. Maybe it's the combination of how he's touching her, how he's talking to her and how he's looking at her that makes everything just too much all at once. "Mikey... M-Mikey... 'm gonna..." She can't even finish her sentence

Usually, if Mikey was in the mood of being a little bit mean, he'd make her say it. But right now he's not feeling that way and instead encourages her. "shh, go ahead sweetheart. come for me"

So she does. Maya is trembling as she comes around Mikey's fingers, her nails digging into his clothed shoulders and tears running down her cheeks like an endless stream. Her thighs tense up and not once does she close her eyes because Mikey asked her not to. How could she deny him when he asked so nicely? Mikey's fingers keep expertly working on her cunt in just the way he knows feels good for her, helping her ride out her orgasm and simultaneously using his knee to keep her thighs spread. Her orgasm ends and Mikey's eyes are wide, looking at her with eyes full of awe. "M-Mikey, I... I can't" she whimpers weakly, trying to push his hand away from her cunt

Mikey just hushes her. "hm, but you looked so pretty... Your eyes look so pretty when you come"

It sounds like he's crooning at her. Or well, Maya thinks he is. She can hear her own heartbeat in her ears at this point. Everything feels like too much and she thinks if she comes again she'll really pass out. "Mikey—"

"C'mon baby, one more for me. I wanna see your eyes look like that again"

And just how can she say no when he's asking so nicely?

Maybe she does pass out or something because Maya doesn't remember how she ended up in the shower with Mikey. He's washing her hair and has a small smile on his face. She struggled to piece together the events that led her to this moment, the sensation of warm water cascading over her body and Mikey's gentle hands massaging shampoo into her hair. She turned her head slightly, her gaze meeting Mikey's as he stood behind her, gently massaging shampoo into her hair. His expression was serene, a small smile gracing his lips as he worked, his fingers moving with practiced care. "Mikey?" Maya's voice was barely a whisper, hoarse from disuse as she tried to piece together how she had ended up in the shower with him.

Mikey's smile widened at the sound of her voice, his touch gentle as he continued to wash her hair. "Hey there, baby," he murmured, his voice low and soothing. "You passed out, so I thought I'd help you freshen up a bit."

Maya's cheeks flushed with embarrassment at the realization that she had lost consciousness, her memory hazy and disjointed. He's practically holding her up or well somehow holding her up because her knees are weak. "close your eyes" he murmurs, hand on the knob of the shower to turn on the rain head shower above them

Maya obeys without a word and closes her eyes as he turns it on, warm water raining down on them both. Mikey runs his fingers through her hair as the shampoo is washed out of her hair. This entire thing feels oddly domestic and... She likes it. Maybe, just maybe, she can get used to this. It was horrible to be thinking that way. Giving in so easily. It was wrong but maybe after fighting for so long, after going through so much, she could. She should be allowed to right? It wasn't like she gave in after the first day. Maya fought for a month and 3 weeks. Sure she didn't remember two weeks out of that time but, she still fought for herself. Was it wrong to give in and give up? No, there was no one here to blame her for it when all they wanted from the beginning was for her to stop running.

Izana wanted her to stop, Mikey wanted her to stop and eventually, Kakucho did as well.

No one was going to miss her anyway. She was an orphan and had no friends. Chifuyu would move on from her death, the world would keep spinning and the sun would still shine.

No one will miss her and it would be okay because even if Izana is a sociopathic fucking asshole, Kakucho is a recanting bastard and, Mikey a liar— at least they're still here and at least they want her.

They want her and to Maya that's all that matters.

"and where are you going?" Izana asks Kisaki who is being uncharacteristically fidgety

"Just... Need to pick something up" Kisaki says pushing his glasses up his nose "You can go on ahead, no need to wait for me"

The city of Tokyo is bustling in the early afternoon. Their meeting with the Koreans was later in the evening and everything for that was already taken care of. They could do whatever they wanted for now but it seemed Kisaki had something to do and whatever that was is making him jumpy and nervous. Kisaki Tetta, Tokyo Manji Gang's number 2, nervous? Oh, Izana needed to know why. Izana narrows his eyes, observing Kisaki's unusual behaviour with keen interest. He's never seen Kisaki like this before—usually so composed and calculated, it's unsettling to witness him so agitated. "Is there something on your mind, Kisaki?" Izana inquires, his voice deceptively calm as he studies his second-in-command. He can sense that there's more to Kisaki's sudden restlessness than meets the eye.

Kisaki shifts uncomfortably under Izana's gaze, his usual facade of confidence wavering slightly. "It's nothing, Izana," he replies, attempting to brush off Izana's concern with a dismissive wave of his hand. But Izana isn't fooled by the nonchalant demeanour.

"Nothing?" Izana repeats, his tone laced with skepticism. "You seem rather preoccupied with 'nothing.' Don't make me repeat myself, Kisaki. What's going on?"

Kisaki hesitates for a moment, his gaze flickering away before meeting Izana's once more. "It's just a personal matter," he mumbles evasively, a hint of unease creeping into his voice. "I'll be back soon, I promise."

Izana's lips curl into a knowing smirk as he watches Kisaki's feeble attempt to deflect his inquiries. He may not have all the answers just yet, but one thing's for certain—whatever Kisaki is hiding, it's bound to be interesting. "Nope, I'm coming too"

"You're gonna get bored"

"I don't care"

To Izana's surprise, they end up at a high-end jewelry shop. Oh. Oh. Oh my god. "shut up you're proposing?" Izana has to resist the urge to laugh in Kisaki's face as the jeweller sets out designs of different engagement rings in front of them

Due to an unfortunate drunken confession some years back, the top members of the Tokyo Manji Gang knew about Kisaki Tetta's pining toward Tachibana Hinata. They laughed at him obviously because how in the world was Kisaki losing against Hanagaki-fucking-Takemichi who is an absolute loser and a literal moron with no fashion sense. Izana never let him live it down nor did Sanzu and Hanma. But now, it seemed that Kisaki was going to propose. It seemed like a stupid fucking idea in Izana's opinion but he won't voice that out loud because he wanted to see things crash and burn just for fun. Kisaki shoots Izana a glare, his embarrassment is evident in the crimson hue that tinges on his cheeks. "Shut up, Izana," he grumbles, though there's a hint of fondness underlying his exasperated tone.

The jeweller, sensing the tension between the two men, wisely decides to give them some space as they peruse through the selection of engagement rings. Izana leans back against the counter, folding his arms across his chest as he watches Kisaki with a mixture of amusement and curiosity. He never thought he'd see the day when Kisaki would be considering marriage, let alone to someone like Tachibana Hinata. "So, Tachibana Hinata, huh?" Izana remarks casually, raising an eyebrow inquisitively. "Never took you for the romantic type, Kisaki."

Kisaki's expression softens at the mention of Hinata's name, a wistful smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "She's different," he admits quietly, his gaze distant as he recalls memories of their time together. "She's... she's everything, Izana. I can't imagine my life without her."

Izana observes Kisaki's genuine affection with a mixture of amusement and intrigue. Despite his outwardly cold and calculating demeanour, it's evident that Kisaki harbours deep feelings for Hinata, feelings that Izana never expected to witness firsthand. It's a side of Kisaki that few have ever seen, and honestly, it's really fucking weird considering the supervillain type of shit Kisaki does. This was the first time they were even talking about girls in a way that wasn't vulgar and just plain wrong. This was odd and Izana isn't sure he wants to continue this conversation because he'll actually have a stroke if he hears any more of that cheesy-cringy bullshit. "Well, then," Izana says with a smirk, pushing himself off the counter in hopes Kisaki takes the hint and drops it "Let's find the perfect ring for your perfect girl, shall we?"

Kisaki's eyes light up at the suggestion, his earlier nervousness replaced by a newfound determination. Together, they sift through the array of rings, each one more exquisite than the last. "What about your uh..." Kisaki pauses trying to look for the right word to describe whatever Kaneko Maya was for Kurokawa Izana

Kisaki's question about Maya prompts Izana to pause, his fingers hesitating over the delicate jewelry. "My bunny?" he repeats, the term rolling off his tongue with a mixture of macabre fondness and possessiveness. "She's... special."

Kisaki watches Izana closely, sensing the underlying complexity in his tone. Kisaki doesn't even know why the fuck he's asking. It seems that no matter how smart he is, he still can't avoid or stop himself from asking these weird and awkward questions. "Special how?"

Izana's gaze flickers with a myriad of emotions—affection, frustration, and a hint of vulnerability. "She's... like a wounded animal," he murmurs, his voice tinged with morbid fascination. "Broken and fragile, yet resilient in her own way. It's quite amusing to see"

Kisaki nods in understanding, recognizing the depth of Izana's feelings for Maya beneath the veneer of detachment. "And what are your intentions toward her?" he asks, his curiosity piqued now because the only person Kisaki himself would describe that way is Hanagaki Takemichi

Izana's lips quirked into a rueful smile, his eyes distant as he struggled to articulate the complexities of his emotions. "I don't know" he admits easily

Kisaki listens in silence, his expression is contemplative as he absorbs Izana's confession. He understands all too well the struggle between love and control, the desire to both nurture and possess. It's a delicate balance, one that Izana seems to grapple with on a daily basis. Kisaki also feels really bad for this girl. From what he'd heard from Sanzu and Shion, this girl was going to literal hell. Oh well. It's not his problem. As long as she doesn't become an obstacle in his plans, he could care less what happens to Kaneko Maya. "You think Tachibana will say yes?" Izana asks him all of a sudden

Kisaki's thoughts momentarily shift from the enigmatic nature of Izana's relationship with Maya to the more straightforward matter of Kisaki's own impending proposal. He blinks, taken aback by the sudden change in topic, but quickly recovers. "Tachibana?" Kisaki repeats, his mind refocusing on the matter at hand. "I... I hope so." There's a flicker of uncertainty in his voice, a rare display of vulnerability from the usually composed second-in-command of the Tokyo Manji Gang.

This was a weird conversation to have, especially after everything but, Izana had insisted on coming along, they were having an extremely uncomfortable conversation. Not extremely but it was just fucking weird to have with Kurokawa Izana of all people. "Well, then," Izana says, his voice tinged with a hint of mischief. "Let's make sure she can't say no, shall we?"

Kisaki's lips twitch into a small smile, a glimmer of hope igniting within him at Izana's words. "Yeah," he agrees quietly

Part of Mikey feels bad for Maya particularly when he sees her zoned out. But it is late in the afternoon, the sun is low and lighting up the master bedroom of the beach house in orange and yellow through the glass double doors leading out to the beach and he's lying on top of her, ear pressed to her sternum right where he can hear her heartbeat the loudest. It's perfect. Absolutely perfect. Maya isn't crying about going home anymore, neither is she under the influence of drugs to achieve that. Maya looks rather calm about being here which was a first. She'd been like that last night since after they showered together. Mikey was happy. He was so happy. The sound of the waves crashing against the shore provides a soothing backdrop to their shared intimacy, a reminder of the tranquillity that exists just beyond the confines of their secluded sanctuary. Mikey's fingers trace idle patterns on Maya's skin, his touch gentle yet possessive. He can't help but marvel at the sight of her lying beneath him, her features softened in the warm light. For the first time in what feels like an eternity, she seems at peace—no longer plagued by the torment of her past or the uncertainty of her future.

His heart swelled with a mixture of tenderness and guilt. He knows he shouldn't feel this way, shouldn't revel in the calm that comes from holding her captive against her will. But at this moment, with the world outside their little sanctuary fading into obscurity, it's easy to forget the consequences of their actions. Maya stirs slightly beneath him, her fingers tracing idle patterns against his back. Her eyes flutter open, meeting his with a gaze that's both questioning and vulnerable. "Mikey" she murmurs, her voice barely above a whisper.

Mikey brushes a strand of hair away from her face, his touch gentle yet possessive. "Shh, it's okay," he whispers, his lips pressing against her forehead in a silent promise. "You're safe with me."

Maya doesn't say anything but her gaze doesn't shift from his eyes. She's just, looking at him. It feels nice. Mikey likes the way she's looking at him. He feels warm all over. It had been so long since someone made him feel like that. Her thumb brushes against his cheekbone and Mikey resists the urge to nuzzle into her palm even though he knows he can. "are you hungry? I can make you dinner" Maya says gently, her tone quiet

Mikey's stomach growls loudly in response to Maya's question, betraying his hunger despite the tranquillity of the moment. He chuckles softly, his lips quirking into a sheepish grin as he meets Maya's gaze. "Yeah, I could eat," he admits, his voice tinged with amusement. "But only if you let me help."

Maya smiles warmly, her eyes softening as she nods in agreement. "I'll think about"

Mikey's grin widens at the playful designation, his heart swelling with warmth at the prospect of spending more time with Maya in the kitchen. It's a simple gesture, but one that holds a deeper significance—a reminder of the ordinary moments that make life worth living, even in the midst of chaos and uncertainty. Together, they make their way to the kitchen, their laughter mingling with the sound of sizzling pans and clinking utensils. And as they prepare their meal side by side, Mikey can't help but marvel at the simple joy of domesticity. "You're really forgetful, aren't you?" Maya asks him as he's stirring the pot since it was the only thing he was good at

"hm, how?"

"Izana and Sanzu are always reminding you to eat" Maya says as she's washing something in the sink

Mikey thinks for a moment. "yeah. They are"

"That's nice of them. Izana's an asshole didn't think he had it in him to be a caring older brother"

Mikey's expectations were shattered when Maya didn't react the way he anticipated. He had braced himself for her to hurl accusations of laziness or belittle him like others had done in the past, particularly Draken. But instead, Maya's response was one of understanding and compassion.

He had been prepared for judgment, for being seen as weak or incompetent. After all, getting out of bed had become an insurmountable task after Emma's funeral 12 years ago. Draken's absence during this time, despite his own grief over Emma's passing, had left Mikey feeling abandoned and forgotten. Yes, Draken was grieving too but, Emma wasn't just anyone to Mikey; she was his sister, his anchor in a world of chaos and the reason he hadn't gone completely crazy. And when she was gone, Mikey found himself adrift, lost in a sea of grief and despair.

Mikey's downward spiral had been rapid and relentless. He couldn't muster the strength to get out of bed, shower, eat, or attend gang meetings—even with Sanzu's persistent attempts to rouse him. It wasn't until Izana intervened that Mikey began to see a glimmer of hope amidst the darkness that threatened to consume him.

Izana's arrival at the Sano household marked a turning point in Mikey's despair. With unwavering determination, Izana pulled him from the confines of his bed, coaxing him into the shower and gently tending to his neglected appearance. Mikey's hair was matted and unkempt after spending months in bed. Izana tried untangling his matted locks while Sanzu fed him. Izana salvaged what he could without shaving it all off and he ended up with short hair. Mikey threw up his food when he looked in the mirror and saw Shinichiro staring back at him.

Instead of admonishing Mikey for his self-neglect and vomiting, Izana offered comfort and reassurance in the simplest of gestures. Handing him a toothbrush with toothpaste.

Izana took care of him. When no one was there, Izana was the one that was still there. Izana took care of him alongside Sanzu. Had it not been for both of them, Mikey probably would have rotted and died in his room and no one would have noticed.

After months of radio silence when Mikey announced a gang meeting to get things back in order, no one was happy about merging Tenjiku with Toman. His so-called friends began to leave him one by one. They never let him explain himself, they didn't let him see Takemichi and they berated him for being around Izana who clearly had other intentions.

Sure Izana was manipulative, cruel and mean but Mikey was okay with that. Draken wasn't there for him when he needed him the most, nor was anyone else so why was everyone mad at him? Why did everyone else leave him while telling him he was the one to blame for Emma's death? Why was it his fault? It's not his fault. She died in his arms so why was everyone comforting Draken and not him? Why did everyone leave him? The memory of Emma's death weighs heavily on Mikey's heart, a constant reminder of the pain and loss that he carries with him every day. He can still feel her life slipping away beneath his fingertips, and hear the echo of her final breaths as they fade into the darkness.

And yet, amidst the turmoil and despair, there is one constant source of solace—the unwavering presence of Izana by his side. Despite Izana's harsh words and cruel demeanour, Mikey finds a strange sense of comfort in his older brother's presence, a reminder that he is not alone in his pain. "Yeah... Would probably die without him" Mikey says with a small smile

In return, Maya smiles. Maybe she knows. Maya looks like she knows Mikey isn't doing well and she just reaches over and brushes a stray black lock behind his ear tenderly. "do you psychiatrists have a 6th sense or something?" he asks playfully "At your graduation do they give you the power of telepathy?"

Maya laughs and shakes her head no. "I just know"

It was nice. Having someone around who understood. It was nice having Maya around and he hopes that her acceptance of the situation isn't temporary. Mikey leans over and presses a light kiss to her lips. She's smiling, he's smiling. Maya is looking at him with those pretty eyes of hers and he likes this so much. Mikey hopes things stay like this and Maya doesn't fall out of the illusion she's put herself into.

If Maya were to ever turn away from him, to reject the love he so desperately craves, Mikey knows that he would do whatever it takes to keep her by his side. Even if it means resorting to drastic measures—to drugging her and starting all over again. Mikey would do it all again without batting an eye. He'd drug her, bring her back through the whole cycle of addiction and withdrawals and be right there for her as a saviour. "Does it taste good?" she asks as he eats

Mikey just smiles and nods and asks her to feed him which she does without question. Mikey is happy. He's been feeling that way since she got here and nothing, nothing in the world will take this away from him. Not again. He'll cling to Izana, he'll keep Maya. Mikey could care less about the voice in his head telling him they'll leave. He doesn't care. Mikey doesn't want to feel sad anymore. He refuses it. Mikey wants to stay happy and be selfish for once.

If his happiness is at the cost of Maya's freedom, so be it.

It's late. About 11 pm. Maya stirs from her slumber, her senses gradually awakening to the hushed stillness of the night. The soft rhythm of Mikey's breathing beside her lulls her back to consciousness, his presence a comforting anchor in the darkness. As she lies there, enveloped in the warmth of their shared bed, memories of the past few weeks flicker through her mind like fragments of a half-remembered dream. Since arriving at the beach house, her days have blurred together in a haze of sleep and solitude, punctuated only by the occasional interaction with Mikey or Izana. And yet, despite the tranquillity of their surroundings, Maya can't shake the lingering sense of unease that gnaws at her insides. Izana's presence looms like a shadow over her thoughts, a constant reminder of the darkness that lurks beneath the surface of their seemingly idyllic existence. But for now, in the quiet stillness of the night, Maya finds herself grateful for the reprieve from Izana's torment. Sure, he's been mean and cruel in the past, but at least he hasn't hurt her recently. At least he hasn't forced pills down her throat or subjected her to his twisted games. In the soft glow of the moonlight filtering through the window, Maya watches Mikey's sleeping form beside her, his features softened by the gentle embrace of sleep. "so... pretty..." she murmured quietly, brushing a stray black strand of Mikey's hair away from his forehead

He's snoring and kind of drooling into the pillow but it's still cute. Mikey looks pretty. Maya's fingers linger on Mikey's forehead, tracing the gentle contours of his face with a tenderness that belies the tumult of her thoughts. In the soft glow of the moonlight, his features are softened by the embrace of sleep, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. She doesn't understand how someone this gorgeous could be on Japan's most wanted list. For all his faults and flaws, Mikey is a paradox—a complex tapestry of light and darkness, kindness and cruelty, love and loss. And yet, in the quiet stillness of the night, he is simply Mikey—vulnerable and imperfect, yet undeniably beautiful in his own way. As Maya sits up, her gaze drifts away from Mikey's sleeping form, a flush of embarrassment coloring her cheeks at the realization of how long she's been watching him sleep. She chides herself inwardly for indulging in such a seemingly intrusive habit, feeling like an unwelcome voyeur in the sanctity of Mikey's rest.

Shaking off the unease, Maya reaches for the glass of water on the bedside table, the cool liquid soothing her parched throat as she takes a sip. The silence of the night surrounds her like a heavy blanket, punctuated only by the soft rustle of the bedsheets and the distant murmur of the ocean beyond.

Despite her best efforts to quell her racing thoughts, Maya finds herself unable to drift back into the embrace of sleep. She puts the glass back down and her hand knocks against the bedside table. "ow" she mutters, rubbing the back of her hand and turning on the small lamp

She looks over at Mikey hoping he didn't wake up from the sound. Relieved that Mikey remains undisturbed by the sound, Maya exhales a soft sigh and turns her attention back to the bedside table. The dim light of the lamp casts a warm glow across the room as she opens the drawer, curious to see what lies within. Inside, nestled amidst a jumble of miscellaneous items, Maya finds a small black box. She picks it up without thinking and opens it. Inside are... Polaroid pictures?

Oh.

Maya knows what these are without even looking at them. These were the Polaroid pictures Izana was talking about. The pictures taken in those 2 weeks she has no memory of. Maya's heart skips a beat as she gazes down at the box of Polaroid pictures, her fingers trembling slightly as she contemplates what lies within. A sense of curiosity washes over her, tinged with a hint of apprehension, as she lifts the lid and peers inside. As she sifts through the photographs, a sense of wonder washes over Maya. The images are surprisingly tender and intimate, a testament to the unexpected romance that unfolded during those lost weeks.

Was this...

No way. Maya expected something crazy to have happened during those two weeks. She expected to see pictures where she was crying or something absolutely disgusting happening to her but no. None of that is in any of the polariods. Rather... Something else.

Maya's fingers tremble slightly as she gingerly lifts the first Polaroid out of the box, her heart fluttering in her chest at the anticipation of what she might find. But as her eyes land on the image before her, her breath catches in her throat, her cheeks flushing crimson at the sight of the intimate photograph. In the picture, she and Mikey are locked in a passionate embrace, their lips pressed together in a tender kiss. The angle of the shot obscures their faces, leaving only their silhouettes illuminated by the soft glow of the room. Mikey's bare chest is visible, the contours of his muscles highlighted in the dim light, while Maya's own form is shrouded in shadow, leaving her uncertain of her own state of dress. A wave of embarrassment washes over Maya as she realizes the implications of the photograph—that someone else must have been present to capture this intimate moment between her and Mikey. She puts the photo down back in the box and looks at the next.

Maya's breath catches in her throat as she lifts the next Polaroid from the box, her eyes widening in surprise at the unexpected sight before her. In the photograph, she finds herself straddling Kakucho's lap, their bodies pressed close together in an intimate embrace. Despite the darkness obscuring her face, Maya can feel the heat rising in her cheeks at the sheer intimacy of the scene. Unlike the previous picture with Mikey, both she and Kakucho are fully clothed, a small relief amidst the whirlwind of emotions coursing through her. Kakucho's face is illuminated by a soft glow, his lips curved into a gentle smile that sends a flutter of warmth through Maya's chest. She can't help but notice the split in his bottom lip Her face remains hidden from view, shrouded in shadow, but Kakucho's expression is clear for all to see. She doesn't remember this moment, doesn't recall ever being in such close proximity to Kakucho in such a seemingly intimate manner. And yet, there they are, captured in a snapshot of time. She doesn't at all remember this and kind of hates that she lost this memory. Maya's heart skips a beat as she notices her index finger tracing the scar that mars Kakucho's face and his arms wrapped around her.

That was enough for her to look at. She puts it back into the box and picks up another which is of her and Mikey. Unlike the previous picture of them, this looks a lot more... Softer? No, cute would be the right word. Her face is visible for once and her pupils are blown out, eyes red-rimmed. She's clearly high in the picture. She's smiling— laughing— her lips smudged with lipstick and Mikey's face is littered with lipstick kisses. Maya puts that picture down after long minutes of just staring at it and picks up another.

It seems that this was of the same day. This next picture was just of Kakucho. It's his side profile. He's lying down somewhere with a cigarette between his lips, lipstick kisses littering his face as well and what looks like her hand tangled in his black locks. Maya turns as red as the lipstick and puts it back in the box.

The next picture makes her almost choke on her own spit. Her face isn't visible. Actually, there isn't anyone's face. It's just Maya's body and Izana's hand. She's fully clothed in it. Izana is barely in the picture, the only thing there is his hand that rests possessively on her chest, tanned fingers curled around her breast in a brazen display of ownership. She feels so shy looking at it. It's odd, she thinks, that Izana hadn't shown her this picture earlier, hadn't used it to mock her or make some crude comment. In fact, as she studies the photograph, a sense of curiosity overtakes her, a desire to understand the intentions behind Izana's actions.

Polaroids couldn't be copied, she realizes, which means this was the only copy there was. She could destroy it, erase it from existence, and yet, a part of her hesitates. Despite the discomfort and embarrassment she feels, there's a strange sense of intimacy in the image, a connection that defies logic and reason. Closing her eyes, Maya takes a deep breath, willing herself to calm the tumultuous storm raging within her. She knows she should feel outraged, should feel violated by Izana's brazen display of dominance. And yet, there's a part of her that can't help but be drawn to the raw intensity of his touch even through the photograph. Even with this picture, just like the rest, it's obvious someone else had taken it.

She puts the picture back and picks up another. It was another one of her and Izana, this one in the living room and a lot softer compared to the last. Izana is lying on his back on the couch and Maya is on top of him. Her head is on his chest and his arms are wrapped around her. In this photograph, Izana and Maya are captured in a moment of rare vulnerability, their bodies entwined on the couch in the living room. Unlike the previous pictures, there's a palpable sense of intimacy in this one—a tenderness that belies the tumultuous nature of their relationship. It's as if time itself has stood still, freezing this fleeting moment of connection in amber for eternity.

As Maya continues to sift through the Polaroids, she discovers a series of images that range from intimate to erotic, each one revealing a different facet of her relationship with Mikey and Izana. Some depict tender moments of affection, while others capture more passionate encounters, their bodies entwined in a dance of desire and longing. But amidst the array of photographs, there's a common thread that runs through them all—the undeniable bond that exists between them, forged in the fires of adversity and strengthened by the trials they have faced together. As Maya gazes at each image in turn, she can't help but feel a sense of awe and disbelief at the depth of emotion captured within each frame.

The problem, however, lies not in the content of the photographs, but in the absence of memory that accompanies them. Maya struggles to reconcile the images before her with the blank canvas of her own recollection, unable to recall a single moment of the intimacy they portray. It's a disconcerting realization, to say the least. Here she was, expecting to uncover evidence of unspeakable acts, only to be confronted with a series of tender moments that she can't even remember experiencing. Mikey and Izana had indeed taken care of her, as they claimed, but the extent of their efforts had been shrouded in a fog of oblivion. Closing her eyes, Maya takes a deep breath, attempting to make sense of the conflicting emotions swirling within her. On one hand, there's a sense of relief that the truth isn't as sinister as she had feared. On the other hand, there's a profound sense of loss at the realization that she had been robbed of the memories of those two weeks. "Baby?" She hears Mikey say, his voice groggy from sleep "Whatcha' lookin' at?"

Mikey's arm goes around her waist and his chin hooks over her shoulder. "Ah," he murmurs, his fingers tightening slightly around her waist. "You found them, huh? Izana must've left them there."

Maya turns to look at him, a furrow forming between her brows. "Why would he leave them there?" she asks, confusion evident in her voice.

Mikey shrugs, his lips quirking into a small smile. "Probably forgot about them," he replies nonchalantly, though there's a twinkle of mischief in his eyes. "Or maybe he wanted you to find them."

Maya's gaze flickers back to the photographs, her mind racing with questions and uncertainties. What was Izana's motive behind leaving them there? Was it a gesture of remorse, or something more sinister? As she searches for answers in the images before her, Maya can't help but feel a sense of unease settle over her. The Polaroids offer glimpses into a world she can't remember, a world filled with intimacy and connection that she struggles to reconcile with her own fragmented memories. "I... I didn't expect to find... this. I'm... Trying to... make sense of everything." she mumbles, her voice tinged with a mixture of apprehension and curiosity.

Mikey's grip tightens around her waist, his touch offering silent reassurance in the midst of her turmoil. "You don't have to make sense of everything, pretty," he whispers, his lips brushing against her ear. "Just take it one day at a time."

Maya is silent, trying to think— to remember but— "Don't think so hard, baby" Mikey says, pulling the box easily out of her hands and reaching over her to set it on the bedside table "Everything's fine. Let's just get to sleep"

Maya nods wordlessly, grateful for Mikey's reassurance. She watches as he sets the box back on the bedside table, her mind still swirling with unanswered questions and unresolved emotions. But as Mikey pulls her close, his warmth enveloping her like a comforting blanket, Maya feels a sense of calm wash over her. "Yeah, you're right," she murmurs, turning off the lamp before she snuggles closer to him, seeking solace in his embrace. "Let's just get some sleep."

Mikey presses a gentle kiss to the top of her head, his arms tightening around her as they settle back into the soft embrace of the bed. In the quiet darkness of the room, Maya allows herself to relax, the weight of the Polaroids and their implications fading into the background as she drifts off into a peaceful slumber.

As the first rays of dawn filter through the curtains, painting the room in a soft, golden hue, Maya stirs from her slumber, feeling more rested than she has in weeks. The weight of exhaustion that had plagued her for so long seems to have lifted, replaced by a sense of tranquillity and contentment. Beside her, Mikey is still asleep, his features softened by the gentle light of morning. Maya watches him for a moment, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips as she recalls their conversation from the night before. After their first night together weeks ago, Mikey had confessed, in a sleepy murmur, that he hadn't slept that well in ages without the aid of sleeping pills. It had been a vulnerable admission, one that had touched Maya in ways she couldn't quite explain. Now, as she watches him sleep, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm, Maya can't help but feel a surge of affection for the man lying beside her. Despite the tumultuous circumstances that had brought them together, there's a sense of peace and belonging that settles over her like a warm embrace. With a gentle sigh, Maya reaches out to brush a stray lock of hair away from Mikey's forehead, her touch light and tender. As her finger is about to trail down the side of his face, he suddenly grabs her hand and Maya gasps in surprise. Mikey's grip on Maya's hand is firm yet gentle, his touch sending a shiver down her spine. Startled by his sudden movement, Maya meets his gaze, finding a mix of emotions swirling in the depths of his dark sleepy eyes. "s-sorry did I wake you?" she whispers

Mikey's grip on Maya's hand tightens slightly, his thumb tracing circles over the back of her hand as he shakes his head slowly. "No, you didn't wake me," he murmurs, his voice still thick with sleep. "I was already awake."

Maya's heart skips a beat at the intensity of his gaze, the raw vulnerability that flickers in the depths of his dark eyes. There's something in the way he looks at her, something unspoken yet undeniable, that sends a rush of warmth flooding through her veins. For a moment, they simply gaze at each other, the air between them heavy with unspoken words and unspoken emotions. It's as if time has slowed to a standstill, allowing them to exist in this moment of quiet intimacy, where nothing else matters except the connection they share. Feeling emboldened by the silent exchange, Maya leans in closer, her breath mingling with Mikey's as she closes the distance between them. Their lips meet in a gentle kiss, soft and tentative yet filled with a depth of emotion that words could never convey. As they pull away, Maya finds herself lost in the warmth of Mikey's embrace, his arms wrapped around her in a silent promise of love and protection. In this moment, surrounded by the soft light of dawn and the gentle rhythm of their breath, Maya knows that she is exactly where she belongs—wrapped in the arms of the man she loves.

Or well, the man she thinks she loves. This is love, right? It has to be. Mikey makes her heart flutter, he makes her feel warm. So, it has to be love right? Right? Is it too soon to call this love? Too soon to surrender herself to the intoxicating allure of Mikey's embrace? Or is she merely fooling herself, grasping at the illusion of love in a desperate bid to fill the void within her heart? It has to be love. This is what books described love to be. So that's what it has to be. She has to be in love with Mikey. "So," he says, his voice lightening with amusement, snapping her out of her thoughts "what's on the agenda for today?"

Maya chuckles softly, the tension of the moment dissipating as she meets Mikey's gaze with a playful glint in her eyes. "Well," she begins, a mischievous smile playing on her lips, "I was thinking we could start with breakfast. And then, who knows? The day is full of possibilities."

Mikey's eyes light up and then go dark. She's pushed onto her back, Mikey's knee slotting between her thighs as he gets on top of her, pinning her to the mattress. "how about a little snack before breakfast?" He murmurs, the tip of his nose knocking against hers

Maya's breath catches in her throat as Mikey's sudden change in demeanour catches her off guard. Her heart races in her chest as she feels the weight of his body pressing down on her, his proximity sending a thrill of anticipation coursing through her veins. His knee between her thighs sends a jolt of electricity through her, igniting a fire that smoulders in the depths of her being. For a moment, time seems to stand still as they gaze into each other's eyes, a silent exchange of desire passing between them. The playful banter of moments ago is replaced by an electric tension, thick with unspoken longing and primal need. As Mikey's breath ghosts across her skin, Maya's pulse quickens, her senses heightened by the intoxicating proximity of the man she yearns for. She can feel the heat of his body seeping into her skin, his scent enveloping her like a warm embrace. With a soft gasp, Maya surrenders to the magnetic pull between them, her fingers tangling in the soft black strands of Mikey's hair as she pulls him closer. In this moment, there are no doubts, no uncertainties—only the raw, unbridled passion that courses through their veins, binding them together in a dance as old as time itself.

As their lips meet in a fevered kiss, the world falls away, leaving only the two of them lost in the throes of desire. And as they lose themselves in each other, Maya knows with a certainty that transcends words—this is love, in all its messy, beautiful glory.

Mikey pushes his shorts and boxers down just enough to pull out his cock. Mikey's lips never leave her's as his hand pumps up and down his length to bring himself to full hardness. Maya brings her hand down and she does it for him. As soon as her hand wraps around his length, Mikey whimpers into her mouth and Maya thinks her head exploded.

He sounds so pretty.

Sure she had heard him whimper before— many times actually— but right now he sounded so pretty. Maya feels a surge of warmth floods her body, igniting a firestorm of desire that consumes her from within. His vulnerability, his raw need, it's all laid bare in that single sound, and Maya finds herself utterly captivated by the beauty of it. Oh god, she wanted to hear it again. So when Maya tightens her hand around his cock, Mikey makes the same pretty sound. Her hand moves her and down his length, thumb brushing over the sensitive tip. She can feel Mikey's thighs twitch and the hand that is resting next to her head to keep himself over her grip the pillow tight. They're not even kissing anymore. Mikey is just panting against her lips, inhaling and exhaling her air.

She has never done anything like this for him before. It was usually just him pleasuring her. She's never done this before but it's clear she's doing the right thing with all the pretty noises Mikey is letting out and all the precum dribbling out of his tip. Each of his sighs, each halting, excited breath, sent pleasant shivers through her body, pooling in her center. Oh her cunt was throbbing just by listening to the noises Mikey makes. Her eyes open as Mikey finally pulls away from her mouth, pressing his face into her neck instead, letting out small broken moans and breathy whimpers she just couldn't get enough of. "Maya~" he chokes out, voice all shaky

Just from the sound of him whimpering out her name had her head spinning. Oh, he just sounded so pretty. Mikey's thighs twitched and she could tell he was about to come. She speeds up the pace of her hand on his cock but he suddenly stops her, grabbing her wrist. "F-Fuck wait" he mumbles, pulling her hand off him "Wanna come inside you"

Her shorts are loose and thin and easy to push aside. Mikey does the same with her panties and hastily flicks at her clit making Maya choke out a whine. She was soaking without him even having to do much— just by listening to him her cunt is soaking. Mikey presses his tip to her hole and just when she thinks he's about to push in, he doesn't. Instead, he looks at her, eyes heavy with lust and desire but also a different kind of emotion. "Hey. I don't want you spacing out after we're done" He murmurs, tone stern "I want you awake"

She did that a lot—space out after sex. But she couldn't really help it. It just happened. Maya knows thinking of the psychological aspect of her issue will only bring her more unhappiness and pain so she doesn't. "Okay... Okay I w-will— ahh~" she choked out, a moaning slipping from her lips when Mikey used his cock to slap against her clit

He pushes in, inch by inch, sighing with his eyes rolling to the back of his head. Maya trembles at the feeling of Mikey sliding in with no prep at all. The stretch burns so good but it barely hurts which is always surprising considering how fucking huge he is. Mikey hooks her knees up over his hips and doesn't even wait for her to adjust to his length as he starts thrusting right away. Maya whimpers out his name shakily, eyes rolling back and legs wrapping around his waist. Mikey makes her feel good. Every fucking time he makes her feel fucking amazing because he knows her body and what feels good to her. "fuck fuck s'good baby" Mikey groans, rutting into her hard

The breath is knocked out of her legs and her head is up in the clouds. It feels so good. The slight sting of pain and the pleasure of him hitting each sensitive little spot inside her cunt each time. "Mikey, Mikey, Mikey—" she moans out his name like a desperate prayer

Both of them feel like they're falling apart. Everything feels so damn good. "f-fuck 'm gon' come" Mikey whimpers and Maya mumbles the same

He starts thrusting faster and Maya's hand comes down to rub shaky figure 8s on her clit. It feels so good she doesn't know what to do with herself. Mikey and Maya come with little cries and whimpers, trembling and twitching from the earth-shattering orgasms. Her head is spinning and fogging up as she barely even feels Mikey pull out or fix her panties and shorts back over her cunt. She didn't realize it until Mikey suddenly grabbed her face harshly, fingers digging into her cheeks, forcing her to look at him. Maya barely can look at him as she feels an odd fog wash over her mind after she recovers from her climax. His eyes bore into hers, intense and searching as if trying to anchor her to the present moment. "Hey," he says, his voice soft yet urgent, "stay with me, okay? Don't drift off."

Maya blinks, trying to shake off the disorienting fog that clouds her thoughts. She feels a sense of detachment creeping in, like she's floating away from herself, from the world around her. It's a familiar sensation, one she's experienced countless times before—after sex with either him or Izana. "Stay with me," Mikey's voice is urgent, his eyes searching hers with a mixture of sternness and desperation. "Don't go away, Maya. Stay here with me."

It's hard though. Maya feels like she's floating but Mikey doesn't seem like he'll let up. He had told her he wanted her awake before they even started. She should try for him, shouldn't she? Her hands come up, weakly holding his wrists. "that's it. that's it" Mikey encourages "Stay awake"

So Maya tries to focus on something. Something that will keep her awake like Mikey wants. Focusing on the dull ache in her thighs wasn't enough so she thought about Izana instead and how he was coming back later that evening. Somehow, that works. Not as well, but she's still somewhat conscious. "good girl. good girl. You're doing well. Just stay awake"

As she focuses on his voice, his touch, Maya finds a glimmer of hope amidst the darkness, a flicker of strength that fuels her determination to stay awake, to stay with Mikey, if only for a little while longer.

Mikey often thinks about his past. From losing his mother— to permanently scarring Haruchiyo— to losing Shinichiro and then Baji— to losing Emma and then the rest of his friends. Mikey thinks he's been through a lot. It wasn't really fair. Perhaps tragedy was just in his blood. Genetic probably? His cheating father met his end in a car crash and his mother died of terminal illness still loving her unfaithful husband. Maybe this was genetic or a generational curse.

All Sano's face a terrible end and an even more miserable life.

Had it not been for Izana, Mikey probably would have died. Mikey wonders if Izana is exempt from this curse as he did not take the Sano name nor was he Sano by blood. Izana was simply his brother because Mikey, Shinichiro and Emma said so. But did that exempt Izana from the curse? Mikey hopes it does. His big brother, his only family, didn't deserve to live miserably like he does— like they all did. But maybe that's what Maya was here for. She was like a dark in the light, someone who made the gross things in his head shut up for once. Oh did he adore her. "do you want to go out?" Mikey asks as they're watching tv

It's late in the afternoon. They've had their lunch and were just lounging around and Izana should be arriving around sunset. "hm?"

Maya is looking at him surprised. "outside?" She says the word as if she had never heard it before

Mikey nods and smiles. "uh huh. Outside. I remember you telling me you've never been on a motorcycle before. I wanna take you on mine"

Of course, she probably doesn't remember saying that but it doesn't matter. Maya's eyes widen with anticipation, her lips curving into a hesitant smile. "I... I'd like that," she murmurs, her voice tinged with uncertainty

Mikey grins and stands up, pulling her off the sofa with ease. He isn't concerned about her trying to run. After all, the double doors in the master bedroom has been unlocked for days now. "Alright, let's get dressed then"

Maya seemed to be a lot more excited about getting ready than actually go out and in Mikey's opinion, it was quite cute. It wasn't like he'd be taking her near non-Toman members. He couldn't have that. She wouldn't be safe. But it was cute seeing her pick out an outfit from her untouched clothes. She wears black jeans and a white crop top with this corset style lacing at the front and a black cropped cardigan. It was pretty new to Mikey considering he's only ever seen her in pyjamas or wearing his or Izana's clothes. She looks cute. Mikey himself gets ready too, watching her out of the corner of his eye as he puts on his leather jacket and gloves. He can't shake the feeling of protectiveness that washes over him, a primal instinct to shield her from harm, to keep her safe from the dangers that lurk beyond their doorstep.

In that moment, Mikey grapples with conflicting emotions. He isn't sure why he's thinking of this now but watching her clip her gold necklaces into place made him remember his conversation a few days with Izana where he had told him that Maya was just a kid and Izana replied that she was in fact not a kid but a 22 year old with a university degree. Mikey will admit that Izana was right with the implication that he was infantilizing her.

Mikey may have been infantilizing her but at least he wasn't dehumanizing her like Izana.

At least he still treated her like another human being with feelings rather than a pet like Izana.

When Izana wasn't torturing her mentally, physically, spiritually— and any other way a person could possibly be tortured— he treated her like a wounded and sad animal from a shelter.

When Mikey wasn't emotionally manipulating her, he treated her like an abused baby he adopted from an orphanage.

He isn't sure which one is worse and which one is better.

"Okay, when I'm going too fast, tap me twice" Mikey instructs as he fixes the buckle of the helmet underneath Maya's chin as she stands before him on the driveway

The visor is flipped up letting him see her pretty blue eyes. Maya nods in understanding, her gaze meeting Mikey's with a mixture of excitement and apprehension. "Got it," she confirms, her voice muffled slightly by the helmet.

Mikey smiles, his fingers lingering for a moment longer than necessary as he adjusts the helmet strap. Despite the protective gear concealing her features, he can still see the glimmer of anticipation in her eyes, the hint of a smile tugging at the corners of her lips. She's beautiful, he realizes, in a way that transcends mere physical appearance. With a final pat on her shoulder, Mikey steps back, admiring the sight before him. Maya stands before him, her eyes alight with excitement. It's moments like these that remind Mikey why he's drawn to her—her resilience, her courage, her unwavering spirit that reminds him too much of— oh. No. Mikey shouldn't think of him right now. "Ready?" he asks, a hint of excitement in his voice as he gestures towards his motorcycle, the engine humming softly in anticipation.

Maya nods eagerly, a sense of adventure flickering in her eyes. "Absolutely," she replies, her voice brimming with anticipation.

With a grin, Mikey swings a leg over the motorcycle, settling into the driver's seat with practiced ease. Maya follows suit, straddling the seat behind him, her arms wrapped snugly around his waist. As he starts the engine, the roar of the motorcycle fills the air, drowning out the sounds of the world around them. With a flick of his wrist, Mikey guides the motorcycle onto the open road, the wind whipping past them as they speed towards the horizon. For a moment, time stands still, and all that exists is the two of them, bound together by the promise of adventure and the thrill of the open, empty road.

As they ride along, the world seems to blur around them, the scenery passing by in a kaleidoscope of colours and shapes. Maya holds on tight, her heart racing with a heady mix of excitement and exhilaration. The wind rushes past them, tousling her hair and filling her senses with the scent of freedom. For Mikey, there's a sense of liberation that comes with the open road, a feeling of escape from the weight of his past and the burdens of his responsibilities. With Maya's arms wrapped around him, he feels a sense of connection and belonging that he hasn't felt in a long time.

They ride for miles, the landscape unfolding before them in an ever-changing tapestry of fields, forests, and winding roads. With each twist and turn, Maya's grip tightens, her trust in Mikey evident in the way she clings to him.

There's not a house in sight. Nothing near the beach house for miles. Maybe that's why Izana brought her here in the first place. So she would be completely helpless and nowhere to run to even if she somehow did manage to escape the beach house. No, he shouldn't think of that right now. He should think happy thoughts and hope Maya's fingers don't brush against the pistol concealed under his leather jacket. It was just in case after all.

Despite the remote surroundings, Mikey focuses on the present moment, determined to make this ride a memorable one for Maya. He steers the motorcycle with practiced ease, navigating the winding roads with confidence as they continue on their journey.

As they ride, Mikey steals glances at Maya through the rear view mirror. He can't see her face due to the helmet but he knows she's smiling. He can feel the vibrations from her chest against his back with each giggle she lets out. With each passing mile, the tension in his shoulders begins to ease, replaced by a growing sense of contentment. He knows that he should be vigilant, that danger could lurk around any corner, but for now, he allows himself to simply enjoy the freedom of the open road. As they round a bend in the road, the sun begins to dip lower in the sky, casting a warm golden glow over the landscape. The beauty of the moment is not lost on Mikey, and he finds himself smiling despite the weight of his worries.

For now, all that matters is the road ahead and the woman beside him, her trust in him evident in the way she clings to him.

They make it back to the beach house. The sun is about to set and Mikey drags her to the beach behind the house to watch it. As they step onto the soft sand, the vibrant hues of the setting sun paint the sky in shades of pink, orange, and gold. The rhythmic sound of the waves crashing against the shore fills the air, creating a serene backdrop for the breathtaking spectacle unfolding before them. Mikey leads Maya to a secluded spot on the beach, away from the prying eyes of the outside world. They settle down on the sand, side by side, their shoulders brushing as they watch the sun sink lower on the horizon. For a while, they sit in silence, lost in the beauty of the moment. The weight of their worries fades away, replaced by a sense of peace and tranquillity. In this moment, it's just the two of them, sharing a rare moment of intimacy amidst the chaos of their lives. Mikey turns to Maya, his gaze soft and affectionate. "Thank you for coming with me," he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper.

Maya smiles softly, her eyes reflecting the light of the sunset. "Thank you for bringing me," she replies, her voice filled with warmth and gratitude.

Maybe this was love, Maya thinks. It had to be. What she felt for Mikey(and maybe even Izana) was love. Mikey's presence beside her is both comforting and exhilarating. His warmth seeps into her, thawing the icy tendrils of doubt and uncertainty that have gripped her heart for so long. However, that doesn't last. "I..." Mikey says something then pauses for a moment "I'm sorry..."

Mikey's sudden apology catches Maya off guard, and she turns to him, her brow furrowing in concern. "What for?" she asks softly, her voice laced with confusion.

Mikey shifts beside her, his gaze fixed on the sand as if searching for the right words. "For everything," he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper. "For lying to you, for drugging you, almost making you overdose, for forcing myself on you weeks ago, for..." He trails off, his words fading into the gentle sound of the waves.

Immediately, it was like those rose-coloured glasses Maya had been wearing all this time had been ripped off her face. A sick realization overcomes her as she remembers where she was and why and how. The weight of Mikey's words hangs heavy in the air, casting a shadow over the serene scene before them. Maya's heart clenches as she listens to his confession, each word landing like a blow to her chest. She feels as though the ground has shifted beneath her feet, leaving her adrift in a sea of uncertainty and doubt. For weeks, Maya had been living in a haze of false comfort, clinging to the illusion of love and safety that Mikey had provided. But now, faced with the harsh truth of his actions, she can no longer ignore the reality of her situation. The memories come flooding back— the drugs, the manipulation, the violation— and Maya's stomach churns with nausea. Her mind races, grappling with the enormity of what Mikey has just admitted. How could she have been so blind, so naive, to trust him so completely? The realization hits her like a punch to the gut, leaving her reeling and disoriented.

Mikey's apology is feeble, his excuses flimsy and hollow. He tries to justify his actions with half-hearted explanations, blaming his behaviour on everything from his troubled past to his misguided intentions. But Maya knows better than to believe his lies. She sees through his facade, recognizing the manipulative tactics he's using to deflect responsibility and avoid facing the truth. "Maya, I didn't mean to hurt you," he says, staring at the horizon "I was just trying to protect you, to keep you safe."

Maya feels disgusted so quickly. Not in Mikey but herself. How had she let it get this far? How could she have let him, Izana and Kakucho stop her from running? How could she stop fighting? Had she really believed her own toxic mind when it told her there was no one waiting? Mikey told her Chifuyu was looking. He implied people missed her. Even if she was declared dead by the police shouldn't they welcome her back and help her? There was a reason Chifuyu left Tokyo Manji Gang after all.

Oh Chifuyu.

How could she forget him? Even if he didn't love her back it didn't mean he didn't love her. Her feelings of romance may have been unrequited but her feelings of friendship weren't. Chifuyu missed her and she knew it. Kazutora too. He had to. They both had to. "I just loved you so much. I didn't know what to do and I didn't want you to leave me like everyone else did so I did all of that" Mikey confesses, unaware of what is going on in her head

She gets up, slow and steady as Mikey's eyes are still on the horizon. She wouldn't stay here. Maya wouldn't let this illusion take over her life. She was only 22. Maya won't let her life be wasted by being a plaything for some crazy psycho brothers. Her life was her own and she'll decide when it ends. Slow and steady she starts making slow steps back. She doesn't know where she'll run but she will. Maya will run and she won't come back. They won't catch her this time. "Maya...?" He noticed she wasn't sitting next to him anymore

She starts taking quicker backward steps, her sneakers crunching against the sand. Maya is fast. She knows she's fast. She can outrun him. In theory, that is. But Sano "Mikey" Manjiro was no Olympic speed runner. He was a fucking gang leader. She can outrun him. "Maya" his voice quickly turns more stern as he snaps his head around to see she is already so far from him

Mikey gets up fast. "What do you think you're doing?" There's a look of both anger and betrayal in his eyes

Maya doesn't let her resolve waver. She will get away. "Maya I swear to fucking god, come back here right now" he realizes she's trying to run

Maya's heart pounds in her chest as she continues to back away from Mikey, her mind racing with fear and determination. She can feel his eyes burning into her back, his voice ringing out across the empty beach, but she refuses to falter. Every step she takes is a step closer to freedom, a step away from the suffocating grip of Mikey and Izana's manipulation. She knows she can't stay here any longer, trapped in this toxic cycle of abuse and control. She'll get out of here even if it means dying in the process. "Maya, stop!" Mikey's voice echoes behind her, filled with desperation and anger as she turns her back to him and starts to run

She can hear the sound of his footsteps pounding against the sand, getting closer with each passing second. But Maya doesn't slow down. She pushes herself to run faster, to outrun the demons of her past and the chains that bind her to this place. It's faint but she can hear Mikey start to come after her. "I SWEAR TO GOD MAYA! STOP"

He's yelling and the sound is chilling. Her footing is unsteady on the long stretch of sand, making her a little slower. It reminds her of when she first got to this beach house. When Izana ran after her. But she was under the influence of some shitty drugs back then. Right now, she's completely sober. Maybe Izana was right. She was a bunny or a rabbit after all. A rabbit like her surrounded by wolves either learns to hop fast or grow its own claws. Maybe at one point she did grow claws. But Kakucho probably shaved them down. "I'LL TEAR OUT YOUR FUCKING HEART MAYA!" Mikey yells

She hears a clicking sound far behind her but it's muted by the sound of her own heart pounding loudly in her ears. Her legs ache with exertion, the sand dragging at her feet with each step. She can feel her breath coming in ragged gasps, her lungs burning with the effort of her escape. But still, she pushes on, driven by the primal instinct to survive, to break free from the chains that bind her. Mikey is far behind her. She can hear his footsteps getting faint. She thinks she's done it. She has right?

Her body hits the ground after she hears a loud bang. After Maya hits the ground, she feels the pain. It's not the same way they show in movies. Getting shot didn't make her scream but rather everything felt too hot and her heartbeat was all she could hear now. She's lying face down on the sand, trembling, twitching from the sharp pain. She gasps anguished, and breathes heavily as her chest feels too hot. Her mind reels with shock and disbelief, struggling to comprehend what has just happened. The world around her blurs into a hazy blur, her vision swimming with darkness and light. She can feel the warmth of blood seeping from the wound, staining the sand beneath her in dark, crimson hues. With each ragged breath, Maya's chest burns with intensity, her heartbeat thundering in her ears like a drumbeat of doom. She tries to move, to push herself up from the ground, but her limbs refuse to obey, weighed down by the heaviness of her injury.

Mikey shot her and she was going to die.

Oh, what a fitting end.

Deep down as she was running, Maya knew Mikey would catch her. She knew Izana wouldn't rest till he got her back either. Maybe this death was necessary. Her death was necessary because living wasn't an option anymore. With her death, Mikey and Izana don't get to have her.

Maya had grieved her own death the moment she got to this shitty beach house. So it was okay that she was dying.

Izana and Mikey wouldn't be able to catch her and that was all that mattered.

She won.

"where is he?" Izana asks Kakucho as they stand over the unmoving body on the sand

"Inside with Sanzu" Kakucho answers

The beach is silent minus the sound of the waves crashing against the shore. The sun will completely set soon and it will be dark. Izana is crouched over Maya's quickly growing cold body, staring at her face, making out a slight smile on her cold lips. He scoffs. Around him stand Ran, Rindo, Kisaki and Kakucho. All of them are silent. Izana's gaze shifts down to Maya. Even in death, she was gorgeous. Eyes shut, skin paler than usual, white top soaked red.

Mikey shot her in the heart.

Izana reaches over and brushes her hair off her neck. He notices she's missing one necklace. Mikey's name comes to mind but he doesn't say a word and instead pulls her gold butterfly pendant necklace off her. Maybe he shouldn't have been gone for so long. "bury her and... plant daffodils on top" Izana orders, his tone casual despite the severity of the situation

Kaneko Maya was already declared dead. Getting rid of her body would be a easy task for Tokyo Manji Gang. Kisaki pushes his glasses up his nose and says "They'll die after a while. Daffodils aren't meant for this soil or this environment"

Everything here is for you. It's yours bunny he said to her earlier. His bunny's beach. His girl's beach.

Izana only smiles, flicking a curly strand away from her cold forehead. "That's alright. She wasn't meant for this environment either"

His dead girl's beach.

"Why would a wolf look for love in the worn-down bones of a rabbit if not to eat her after gaining her trust?" —unknown

notes: um haha. this is technically the last chapter. after this is the epilogue which transitions into the canon storyline. I am also really sorry if this went too fast or isn't satisfactory. I tried my absolute best on this chapter. Also for the last quote, can someone plz tell me where it's from so I can credit it properly. I hope you enjoyed the chapter :)

to check wip in progress for the next chapter and other works, go here

visuals of what I imagined the polaroids to look like(Pinterest links below) in order of mention(WARNING some nsfw pictures below):

polaroid 1, polaroid 2, polaroid 3, polaroid 4, polaroid 5, polaroid 6

also vote on this poll for my next series

likes, asks and reblogs greatly appreciated

special thanks to: @highpri3stess @mysouleaten @yaya4thawin @piroporopo @reiners-milkbiddies @bontensbabygirl @tenjikusstuff4 @fairey555 @haikyuusboringassmanager @firstdivisiongirl @bakuhoethotski @xoxowhateverxoxo @maraya-007 @dolfiins-art @short-cxke @maraya-007 @milky-aeons @asirensrage

#tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers fandom #tokyo revengers manila future timeline #izana kurokawa #tokyo revengers izana #tokyo rev #tokyo revengers smut #tw. dark content #tw. dark themes #mikey sano #sano mikey manjiro #manjiro sano #mikey smut #izana smut #DEAD GIRL’S BEACH #tokyo revengers angst

63 notes · View notes

nayziiz · 2 months

Text

Shadows | LN4

Summary: [Mafia] In the face of dire financial troubles, Lando receives a desperate plea from his father to unearth a lucrative solution within the family business. Fueled by the pressure to rescue his family from ruin, Lando stumbles upon a seemingly perfect venture—using luxury cars as a facade for the clandestine world of drug trafficking. With the unexpected partnership of Amelia Rossi, his father's best friend's daughter, Lando believes he has found the ideal accomplice. However, as the Norris family collides with the ambitious Russells in a ruthless bid to establish their dominance, the perilous path Lando has chosen places not only his newfound enterprise at stake but also entangles Amelia in the dangerous crossfire that unfolds.

Warning: Violence, drugs, blood, smut, fluff, guns

Pairing: Lando Norris x OC (Amelia Rossi) - appearances from other drivers

Masterlist

Chapter 9

Amelia's longing for Lando consumed her thoughts day and night, leaving her restless and unsettled. For weeks, she grappled with the dilemma of how to extricate herself from her relationship with Charles, knowing that her heart belonged to someone else. Each passing day only intensified her desire to be with Lando, overshadowing any semblance of contentment she had found with Charles.

Finally, after much deliberation and inner turmoil, Amelia mustered the courage to confront Charles and bring an end to their relationship. She approached the conversation with trepidation, fearing the pain she would inevitably inflict upon him. Yet, she knew that prolonging the inevitable would only cause further anguish for both of them.

With a heavy heart, Amelia explained her feelings to Charles, expressing her deepest regrets for not being able to reciprocate the love and devotion he had shown her. To her surprise, Charles received her words with a sense of understanding and grace, accepting her decision with a quiet resignation.

"It's clear that things haven't been right between us for some time," Charles conceded, his tone tinged with a hint of sadness. "I've always known that there was something holding you back, something you couldn't quite put into words."

Amelia felt a pang of guilt at the pain she saw reflected in Charles's eyes, knowing that she was the cause of his heartache. Yet, she also felt a sense of relief at having finally freed herself from the constraints of a relationship that could never fulfil her deepest desires.

Amelia's heart raced as she contemplated the forthcoming conversation with Lando. She knew that she couldn't keep the truth hidden any longer, not from him. The weight of George's blackmail hung heavy on her shoulders, a burden she could no longer bear alone. Lando deserved to know the full extent of the turmoil that had plagued her, to understand the reasons behind her actions and the sacrifices she had made.

Summoning every ounce of courage she possessed, Amelia resolved to lay bare her soul to Lando, to reveal the depth of her feelings and the truth of her circumstances. She knew it wouldn't be easy, that the words would likely catch in her throat and her voice would tremble with emotion, but she was determined to face him with honesty and transparency.

As the rain pelted down relentlessly, turning the world outside into a blur of grey, Amelia's car sputtered to a stop on the side of the deserted road. The sudden jolt as the engine died left her heart pounding in her chest, a sinking feeling settling in the pit of her stomach. With a frustrated sigh, she glanced out the window, only to find the rain coming down in sheets, obscuring her view of the road ahead.

For a moment, she sat there, frozen in disbelief, the reality of her situation sinking in. She was stranded in the middle of nowhere, with no one in sight to offer assistance. The realisation sent a shiver down her spine, a wave of panic threatening to overwhelm her.

But then, with a steely determination, she pushed aside her fear and set to work. Taking a deep breath, she grabbed the flashlight from the glove compartment and stepped out into the pounding rain. The cold water soaked through her clothes, plastering her hair to her skin and sending shivers down her spine, but she refused to let it deter her.

With nimble fingers, she popped open the trunk and retrieved the spare tire and the jack, her hands shaking with cold and adrenaline. She struggled to loosen the lug nuts, her fingers slipping on the wet metal, but she refused to give up. With each grunt of effort, each strained tug, she felt a surge of satisfaction, a sense of empowerment coursing through her veins.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, she managed to loosen the last lug nut and remove the flat tire. With trembling hands, she positioned the spare tire in place and began to tighten the lug nuts, her movements slow and deliberate despite the pounding rain and the chill that seeped into her bones.

At last, the tire was secure, and she lowered the car back down to the ground. Breathing a sigh of relief, she stepped back and surveyed her handiwork, a sense of pride swelling in her chest. Despite the odds, she had managed to change the tire all by herself, a feat she had never thought herself capable of.

With a weary smile, she climbed back into the car, her clothes clinging to her skin and her hair dripping with rainwater. She turned the key in the ignition, half expecting the engine to protest, but to her relief, it roared to life without hesitation. With a sense of triumph, she pulled back onto the road and continued on her journey towards the Norris estate.

As the windshield wipers struggled to keep up with the downpour, Amelia's vision blurred not just from the rain but from her tears streaming down her face. Each droplet on the glass seemed to mirror the turmoil in her heart, a tumultuous mix of regret, fear, and longing.

She couldn't shake the feeling of dread that gnawed at her insides, the fear that she had irreparably damaged her relationship with Lando. With every passing mile, her doubts grew, each mile marker a reminder of the distance that now seemed to stretch between them.

Her thoughts were a jumbled mess, a whirlwind of emotions that threatened to overwhelm her. She replayed their last encounter in her mind, the pain in his eyes, the hurt in his voice. She wished she could take it all back, erase the words that had driven him away, but she knew that was impossible.

All she could do now was hope, hope that he could find it in his heart to forgive her, to understand the choices she had made, to see past the mistakes she had made and remember the bond they shared. She knew it wouldn't be easy, knew that trust once broken was not easily mended, but she was willing to do whatever it took to make things right.

Amelia's hands trembled as she dialled the familiar code for security, her heart pounding in her chest with each press of the buttons. The rain continued to pelt down on the roof of her car, adding to the sense of urgency that fueled her every movement. She couldn't shake the feeling of desperation that gripped her, the need to find Lando and set things right between them.

After what felt like an eternity, the gates swung open, and she drove through, her tires splashing through puddles as she made her way up the winding driveway. The estate loomed before her, grand and imposing, a silent witness to the drama unfolding within its walls.

As she parked in front of the imposing front doors, her hands shook as she reached for the handle, her fingers numb with cold and fear. She took a deep breath, steeling herself for what lay ahead, before stepping out into the pouring rain.

The security guards, ever vigilant, approached her as she made her way to the door, their expressions unreadable behind their rain-soaked uniforms. She gave them her name, her voice barely above a whisper, and watched as they exchanged a knowing look before asking her to wait.

“Mr Norris, Miss Rossi is outside.” One of the two security guards called Lando.

Lando's heart skipped a beat at the mention of Amelia's name. He had been lost in thought, his mind consumed with thoughts of her, when the security guard's voice broke through his reverie.

“Amelia?” He repeated, his voice barely above a whisper, disbelief colouring his words.

“Yes, sir.” The guard confirmed, his tone neutral but tinged with a hint of curiosity.

Lando's mind raced as he processed the news. He hadn't seen Amelia in weeks, not since their last encounter at Carlos Sainz SR's birthday party. And now, here she was, outside his family home, seeking him out.

“Let her in.” He instructed, his voice steady despite the turmoil churning within him.

The security guard nodded in acknowledgment at Amelia signalling for her to continue towards the front porch of the house. With a heavy heart, she made her way up the steps to the front door, the rain soaking through her clothes as she went. Each step felt like a weight upon her shoulders, a burden she could scarcely bear. But she pressed on, driven by a determination that bordered on desperation. She could feel the eyes of the security guards on her back, their silent scrutiny weighing heavily upon her. But she pushed aside her doubts and fears, her resolve hardening with each passing second.

As Amelia approached the front door, she couldn't shake the feeling of nervousness that gnawed at her insides. Her heart raced in her chest, and her palms felt clammy against the fabric of her coat. She could hardly believe she was here, standing on the doorstep of Lando's family home, about to face him after weeks of uncertainty and turmoil.

The door swung open before her, revealing Lando standing on the threshold. Despite her dishevelled appearance, she couldn't help but notice the concern etched into his features as he took in her bedraggled state.

“Amelia.” He breathed, his voice a mixture of surprise and relief.

“Lando.” She replied, her voice trembling slightly as she met his gaze.

“What happened? Are you OK?” He immediately asked, assessing her physical state and well-being.

“I... I had a flat on the way here and it started raining.” She explained, her teeth chattering as she spoke.

“Fuck, get inside. Let's warm you up before you catch a cold.” He insisted as she stepped aside to let her in and be enveloped by the house’s familiar warmth.

Lando took her up to his room where the fireplace crackled. Lando watched her closely, his expression a mix of concern and curiosity. It was unlike Amelia to be so quiet and reserved, especially in his presence. Usually, she exuded confidence and vitality, her presence filling the room with energy. But tonight, she seemed weighed down by something, her usually vibrant demeanour dimmed by the events of the day.

He took a seat beside her on the plush sofa, leaving a respectful distance between them, yet close enough to offer his support if needed. He studied her features intently, noting the exhaustion etched into the lines of her face and the weariness in her eyes. It was clear that she had been through a lot, and he couldn't help but feel a pang of sympathy for her.

“Are you okay?” He asked softly, his voice gentle as he broke the silence that hung between them.

Amelia's gaze met his, and for a moment, she seemed to waver, as if debating whether to confide in him. But then, with a sigh, she shook her head, the weight of her emotions evident in the gesture.

“I don't know.” She admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “Today has been... a lot.”

Lando nodded understandingly, his gaze softening as he reached out to gently squeeze her hand in a gesture of comfort.

“You'll need to shower to clean up.” Lando suggested as his eyes swept over her again. “Staying in wet clothes will just make you sick.”

Amelia nodded silently, grateful for the suggestion. She knew she must have looked like a mess after struggling with the flat tire in the rain.

Lando couldn't help but feel a sense of familiarity wash over him. This routine, of taking care of Amelia in times of need, felt almost second nature to him. He ran the water, adjusting the temperature to ensure it was just right, all the while lost in thought.

Amelia began to undress, peeling off the wet and muddy layers of clothing that clung uncomfortably to her skin. The sound of the running water served as a soothing backdrop to her thoughts, offering a momentary respite from the events of the day.

Stepping into the shower, she let the warm water wash over her, cleansing away not just the physical grime but also the emotional weight that had settled on her shoulders. With each drop that fell, she felt a sense of renewal, a fresh start beckoning on the horizon.

On the other side of the frosted glass door, Lando remained respectful of her privacy, keeping his eyes from her body and allowing her space to cleanse both body and mind. He retrieved a fresh set of clothes from his room, selecting items he knew would offer her comfort and warmth.

Returning to the bathroom, he left the clothes on the counter, a silent gesture of care and consideration. He lingered for a moment, his gaze lingering on the closed shower door, before retreating back to his room, giving her the time and space she needed.

The warm water cascading down from the showerhead felt like a soothing balm against her tired muscles and weary soul. As she washed away the mud and rainwater, she couldn't help but let her thoughts drift back to the events of the day. The confrontation with George, the emotional turmoil of ending things with Charles, and now, seeking solace in Lando's comforting presence.

Despite the chaos swirling around her, there was a sense of peace to be found in Lando's home, in his room, in his kindness. She couldn't help but feel a sense of gratitude for his unwavering support, especially in her moments of vulnerability.

Once she had finished showering and dried off, Amelia emerged from the bathroom feeling somewhat refreshed and rejuvenated. She found Lando waiting for her in the bedroom by the fireplace. She looked refreshed and revitalised, a shadow of the weary figure who had entered the bathroom not long before.

Their eyes met briefly, a silent exchange of understanding and gratitude passing between them. Lando offered her a gentle smile, wordlessly acknowledging the strength and resilience she had shown in the face of adversity.

“Feeling better?” Lando asked nervously, careful not to overstep any boundaries or trigger any trauma.

“Yeah. Thank you.” She murmured softly, her voice tinged with gratitude as she approached him. Lando offered her a warm smile in return, his eyes reflecting genuine concern and compassion.

“Anytime.” He replied simply, his tone sincere as he gestured towards the seat on the sofa next to him.

Amelia nodded, a small but genuine expression of gratitude as she sank into the comfort of the sofa by the fireplace. With Lando by her side, she knew she could weather any storm, finding solace in the unwavering support he offered.

As they settled into a comfortable silence, the crackling of the fire providing a soothing backdrop, Amelia allowed herself to relax, the tension of the day slowly melting away.

“You probably hate me.” Amelia eventually spoke, breaking the silence and tension in the room.

“I could never hate you.” Lando assured her as he turned to look at her instead of the crackling fire in front of him.

Amelia's voice wavered slightly as she responded to Lando's words, a mixture of relief and vulnerability evident in her tone. She couldn't bring herself to meet his gaze, her eyes fixed on the flickering flames of the fire instead. She swallowed heavily before offering the explanation for her actions.

“There's a video.” Amelia started, unsure how to broach the conversation.

“What video?” Lando asked, confused.

“Of you and me having sex in your club's office.” She explained, her voice shaking.

Amelia's words hung heavy in the air, the weight of their implications settling over them like a suffocating blanket. Lando's expression shifted from confusion to disbelief, his features contorted with a mixture of shock and anger.

“How is that even possible? Who would do something like that?" He demanded, his voice laced with incredulity.

Amelia's gaze faltered under the intensity of his scrutiny, the weight of her guilt pressing down on her like a crushing weight.

“It's George. He's been blackmailing me, threatening to release the video if I don't comply with his demands.” She admitted, her voice barely audible above the crackling of the fire.

Lando's jaw clenched with fury at the revelation, his hands balling into fists at his sides. The mere thought of someone exploiting their most intimate moments for personal gain filled him with a sense of righteous indignation.

“That son of a bitch.” He growled, his voice low and menacing. “I swear, if I ever get my hands on him…”

Amelia reached out and placed a gentle hand on his arm, her touch a silent plea for restraint.

“Please, Lando.” She implored, her voice tinged with desperation. Lando's expression softened at her words, the fire in his eyes giving way to a deep well of compassion and understanding.

“That's why... that's why you were so adamant about not pursuing anything.” Lando suddenly realised.

“And, I know I hurt you with the stuff I said. I'm so sorry, I should have told you.” Amelia admitted, shame and guilt swirling in her chest.

“I understand. And, I forgive you, Amelia. You don't have to apologise. None of this is your fault.” He replied, his voice gentle and reassuring. “Why did you decide to tell me?”

“Because nothing made sense anymore. I couldn't be without you, Lan.” Amelia conceded, her deepest feelings coming to the forefront.

“Ah, Milly.” He whispered and brushed a stray lock of hair from her face, his touch a tender caress against her skin.

“I am so sorry, Lan. I'm sorry I hurt you.” She continued, the tears threatening to spill from her eyes once again.

“It's fine, baby. All that matters is you're here now.” He assured her as he wiped a tear from her cheek.

Lando kissed her temple and then her forehead and then eventually her lips before pulling her into his lap and wrapping his arms around her.

“I didn't know what to do, Lan. I just wanted to protect you.” She further explained as she leaned against him, appreciating his warmth and comfort.

“I know, baby, I know. But you're where you belong. You're safe here. We'll worry about this in the morning, but right now, you need to eat something and get warmed up.” Lando suggested, rubbing circles into her back.

“You've always been so good to me.” Amelia murmured, her voice soft and filled with emotion.

“I do it because I love you.” Lando replied, his own voice equally tender. Amelia looked up at him, her eyes searching his eyes for reassurance.

“Say it again.” She whispered.

“I love you, Amelia Marie Rossi.” Lando said, his voice unwavering as he spoke the words that meant everything to him. A smile tugged at the corners of Amelia's lips, her heart swelling with affection.

“I love you, Lando Norris.” She declared, her voice filled with conviction.

“Yeah, I know.” Lando replied, a playful grin spreading across his face as he leaned in to kiss her gently on the forehead.

Their laughter mingled with the crackling of the fire as Amelia leaned in to kiss Lando again. The touch of their lips ignited a warmth that spread through them both, dissolving any lingering tension or uncertainty. In that moment, all that mattered was the love they shared.

“And, I will love you for the rest of my life if you'd let me.” Lando added, his signature grin not wavering.

“You say all the right things.” Amelia giggled as she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him again.

#f1 fanfic #f1 fic #f1 imagine #formula 1 #lando norris #lando norris fanfic #lando norris fic #lando norris smut #mclaren #mclaren f1 #lando norris x oc #mafia!au #mafia!f1 #f1 drivers #f1 driver x oc #lando norris x reader #f1 driver x reader #f1 x reader

67 notes · View notes

sarahowritesostucky · 3 months

Text

📖Make it Stick: Pt. 2 The Princess

Rating: Explicit

Chapter Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Bucky x ofc x Steve

Word Count: 4331

Tags: dark!fic, mob/mafia au, mob!Bucky, mob!Steve, dubcon/noncon, sexual coercion, half-sibling incest, m/f/m, non-con drug use, mentions of torture (non graphic), double penetration, forced tattooing, forced orgasms, enemies to lovers

Summary: When his babygirl—his sweet pea, little one, puppy ... half-sister—is recaptured after her latest attempt at running away, Bucky makes a power play in front of the entire Bratva to remind her exactly who she belongs to.

Dark and smutty content below the break. Consume responsibly.

Wait! I haven't read part 1 yet!

Brighton Beach has always belonged to the Mob.

Decades ago, it’d been the Odessa Ukrainians who reigned supreme, but Bucky’s father was a weak man, and once he’d died and Bucky had taken over leadership of the Rusă-Română Bratva at nineteen, things had changed.

In the ensuing eighteen years, he’s not only seen to it that his faction rises to the top, he’s also been ruthless enough to ensure that their dominance is never challenged, his position as the Dragon of Hydra firmly cemented.

The Dragon’s Den is one of many businesses under his direct control. It’s a popular club in its own right, located on a busy strip of similar nightlife lining the two hundred block of Neptune Ave., and acting as the unofficial epicenter of Hydra operations.

Extra bouncers have been placed outside tonight to weed out the undesirables, but even with the modified guest list due to the night’s more … illicit activities, it’s still as packed as ever. The downstairs is filled with bodies, booze, and music in no time.

At first glance, it really could be any other night, but look a little further, and the incongruencies are readily apparent. Bucky’s had everything set up in the back, a space no more than ten feet by ten. It’s just a corner, not some stage or grandiose point of focus. It’s not like they have the lights all trained on them or anything dramatic like that. Viewing isn’t mandatory by any means. … But what he’s doing is also right there for anyone who wants to look over and see. And he’s under no illusion that every single soul present doesn't know what’s going on—either because they’re watching it, or because they’re making sure to pointedly not watch it. Tongues have been wagging ever since they'd tied up Gleb and dragged Lena out.

He starts with Gleb, putting all his “tools” within view of the poor bastard but not using much more than his fists and his words. He gets a gut punch in, breaks a finger or two. Kid stuff. Bucky’s never been overly enthusiastic about torture, but you don’t hold control over any faction of organized crime if you can’t at least make yourself comfortable with it. Bucky can appreciate it for what it is, and for the nastier stuff he’s got his specialists. Besides, sheer terror and anticipation can be just as crucial to putting on a good show as anything else. Gleb’s been a crying, sniveling mess since three minutes in, so Bucky’s halfway disgusted and halfway satisfied. Mostly, he’s just discouraged that his little one has been letting such a weak man stick his prick in her. Ugh.

He takes his time, stepping away to have a drink or to chat with someone every once in a while. Bucky usually enjoys his Friday nights lounging and socializing amongst his friends and associates, after all, and he’s not about to sacrifice his entire evening to Gleb.

The Den is Bucky’s home away from home. He even has private quarters above—an amenity he’s taken frequent advantage of after many a night spent overindulging. In his youth, when he’d been new to power and Polina had been nothing but an irrelevant child of his father’s second wife, the luxury accommodations had hosted Bucky’s escapades with dozens of the most beautiful women that Brooklyn had to offer.

But that lifestyle changed once Lena came of age eight years later.

Bucky hasn’t touched another woman—hasn’t wanted to touch another woman—in the decade since, his obsessive love for her often resisted but always returned, despite her token protests. It’s an open secret, considered fodder for gossip amongst the wives. Bucky doesn’t see why anybody should be shocked. He’s always wanted things that he knows are off limits. His little one included.

She’s finally back, and Bucky is more thrilled at that than he is about anything else. Of course Gleb’s betrayal can’t go unaddressed, but Bucky’s working him over more out of obligation than any true recreational interest. He’s got him tied to a pipe. The man is panting and breathing open-mouthed at this point, some of his blood on the plastic sheeting from the fist he’d taken to the nose to start off their evening together. He’s sweating through his undershirt like a pig.

Bucky himself has been naked from the waist up ever since Natasha returned to deliver the requested transfer sheet and blithely remarked that he was “seeping” through his shirt. Normally, aftercare would see her slathering him in ointment and taping bandages over the raw skin, but Nat’s pissed at him and she’s not offering, and he’s pissed at her for being pissed at him, so he’s not asking. He just chucks the shirt when it becomes a lost cause to the blood, plasma and sweat. Whatever. It's hot in here, anyways. And he knows Lena is looking her fill whenever he turns back on her to go focus on Gleb, which is even more satisfying.

It’s because of her that he hasn’t done anything too gruesome. As a rule, Bucky usually leaves the worst of his torturing to those who have a better taste for it (the widows). And while he fully intends to make Gleb hurt before he’s given his very own pair of cement shoes, Bucky still doesn’t want to do anything too traumatizing in front of his main audience.

He walks back over to where Steve has her. He’s been holding her still against his chest, Bucky’s own tie looped around her neck and gripped in Steve’s fist behind her back, his other hand wrapped around her waist to keep her still as she plays her part in the demonstration.

Bucky stands mere inches in front of her and sips his drink, letting his eyes rake over her form. “You haven’t been eating enough, sweet pea. We’ll have to fatten you back up.”

Her lip curls. “You’re such a fucking pervert.”

“Takes one to know one.” He leers at her even longer for the snark, letting his free hand trail lightly along the curve of one silk-covered breast. She’s small. Barefoot like this she barely comes up to his chin. But she’s got a fat ass and a bitty waist that’ve always made Bucky want to do bad things to her, even when they were younger. Lena is blonde like her mother had been, with pale skin and other Nordic traits that set her apart from the darker hues and Slavic features that most of Bucky’s family sport.

How could he ever have been expected to keep his hands off of something so tempting?

She’s beautifully disheveled right now: hair fallen loose from however she had it up before Belova tranqued her and Pietro stuffed her on a jet, body barely kept decent in some slip of a dress that Steve’s put her in, tears already making her mascara run in grey-black tracks down her cheeks. Bucky’s always had a kink for watching pretty girls cry. “You should smile,” he tells her, mocking her by sticking his lip out in a pout. “People’ll think you aren’t having fun. This is your party, after all.”

“What are we celebrating?” she says, her effort at sass somewhat hindered by the waver in her voice. She’s not as brave as she wants him to think she is, but the front she insists on putting up makes Bucky’s heart twinge in fondness. His stubborn puppy.

“We’re celebrating your glorious and long-awaited homecoming, of course,” he coos. “All these nice folks? They showed up just to welcome you back.” He leans in to kiss her cheek, lingering there to whisper right against her skin, “And I missed you too, sweet pea. You got no idea how much.” He feels her shiver before she hisses at him, like a cat. He pulls back and gives her an assessing frown. “You’re so uptight,” he scolds. “Never did know how to let go and have a good time. I’ve always had to help you relax, haven’t I?”

Her pale skin colors beautifully. It takes her a moment to recover, but when she does she tries to hit him where it hurts, simpering a snotty little, “Oh, I don’t know. I was having a pretty good time on your yacht.”

Anger sweeps through Bucky, white hot and thrilling. Little Polina Barnes thinks she’s good at pissing him off. She is, but she’s got no idea how much her brattiness turns him on, too. If she did, she might think twice about opening her smart mouth (and Bucky can’t have that, he’d be so bored). Aside from her new penchant for leaving the flipping country, he’s always kind of enjoyed the thrill of hunting her down and dragging her naughty butt home.

But Belize is taking it too far. His yacht is taking it too far. And letting another man touch her is way beyond too fucking far. Bucky needs to reel his Little one in.

He sets the rim of his glass to her lips, tutting when she only glares up at him. “Don’t be that way, Lena. C’mon, have some. I want to see you loosen up a little.” She just presses her lips tighter together, and Bucky feels his cock thicken in his pants as he imagines using it to pry that prissy mouth wide open. He gives her a knowing smile. “No? Hm.” He finishes off the drink himself and sets it aside. He grabs her face and thumbs roughly over her lower lip, smearing the matte red of her lipstick down onto her chin. “Have it your way, Puppy. Steven?” he says, not looking at the man holding her still. “You’ve got our party favors?”

“In my left pocket,” Steve says, not reaching for them himself because he’s holding Lena’s waist and the tie wrapped around her throat. He’s not choking her, but the pressure on her neck has another effect. Bucky knows a few dirty secrets about his Little one that he’s sure she wishes he didn’t, namely that having a firm grip around her neck gets her wet. Bucky smirks and keeps his eyes on hers as he takes the liberty of reaching around her body and slipping his hand into Steve’s pocket. His fingers find the small shapes and close around them.

“Here we go,” he murmurs, pulling his hand back and holding the items up for Lena to see, chuckling when her face goes slack in shock. Her cheeks darken in a fierce blush and she starts tugging against Steve’s hold with renewed effort. It gets her nowhere of course, and Bucky and Steve share a brief amused look from over her shoulder. Bucky steps closer and pins her between them, hands stroking over her shoulders. “You didn’t think I brought you here just to watch Gleb get his, did you sweetheart? Oh, no.” He shakes his head slowly. “Mm mn. You’re gonna get yours, too.” He puts his lips to her ear and looks in Steve’s eyes while he whispers, “How long do you think before you’re cumming in front of all these people?”

Her struggles intensify, and she tries to head butt Steve behind her, but of course she’s too short for it. She huffs when his grip only tightens and she runs out of steam. “Ugh!”

“Don’t fight it,” Steve tells her, and she sneers back at him.

“Still playing the loyal dog, Steven?”

“Eh, I prefer attack dog. But sure.” He winks at Bucky and bares his teeth in a fake snarl. Bucky laughs. He really does love Steve.

“Ugh! Lemme go, you pathetic dumbass!”

“Hey. Don’t you be mean to Steve. He’s only doing his job.” Bucky puts the smallest of the three party favors in his mouth, letting it sit on his tongue and gripping Lena’s jaw hard to force her to open up for him. He shoves his tongue in, delivering the pill against her will and moaning theatrically to make her even more outraged. He holds her mouth shut after, pinching her nose until she finally capitulates and swallows. Only then does he allow her to have air, tutting in mock sympathy as she regains her breath. “What’s the matter, puppy? What’s got you so worked up, hm? I know it’s not whatshisface back there. Is it just being back home?” He cradles her face and murmurs tenderly, “Did you really think I wouldn’t find you?”

Her face crumples and she sobs a little, the sound hardly audible in the room's loudness, but Bucky couldn’t possibly miss it when he’s this tuned in to her. He kisses her again, this time very gently, letting their lips rest together for a moment afterwards; and he can feel the way she has to fight the urge to lean into it, to seek more. She absolutely despises him, but she has an enduring need for him as well, and she’s never been very good at hiding it.

“Tell me you missed me,” he breathes, his own desire winning out over the game for just a moment. “Please. What’s it gonna hurt to admit it?

“I hate you.”

“Mm. I know, Love, I know.” He brushes his lips against hers. “But you missed me all the same. Missed this.” He lets his hand trail down between her legs, working up underneath the silk of her slip. She whimpers and begs tearfully,

“No! Bucky, don’t.”

"Don't?" His fingers trail over the seam of her panties and he hums knowingly. "Your fancy panties are getting wet, Sweetheart. Did you wear these for me, or for your loverboy back there?"

“People will see!” she hisses.

“So? Let them see. You think anyone's going to step forward and stop me? Hm? Think somebody in this room is going to tell their дракон that he can’t touch what’s his? Because it’s what? Indecent?” He chuckles, thoroughly enjoying her humiliation. “Mm mn. You know that’s not happening, Princess.”

“Don’t. Please. Just … not here. Take me upstairs.”

For a second, Bucky actually pulls back to look at her face. But then he sees what it is she’s uncomfortable about, her pained expression flicking over to Gleb’s bound form behind them. Bucky feels jealous rage shoot through him. He’s always been meaner when he’s jealous. “You don’t want him to see?” he grits, then forces himself to soften his tone. “Oh, no no no. You can’t hide it anymore, puppy. Not from him or anyone else. I know what you like,” he reminds, cruel and quiet. “You know just how well I know.”

He’d bugged her devices starting when she was fifteen. He knows every dirty thing she’s ever watched, from the time she first learned how to touch herself. And his Little one knows this because he’s told her. It’d been the most satisfying moment of his life, when he’d told her that he felt the same way and watched the shock and mortification bloom on her face. That was the day he’d finally made her his—though he’d forced her to admit every single one of her filthy little fantasies out loud before he laid her down and took her virginity.

“I know how you like to feel owned,” he whispers in her ear, thrilling at the hitches it elicits in her breathing. “How you like to feel watched while powerful men touch you. What better way to satisfy those urges than by being taken by the Dragon, right in front of all his men?”

“Please don’t. You can’t.”

“What can’t I do?” he purrs, and she cries softly,

“You can’t, please. Because they know …”

“They know what?” he coaxes, wanting her to say it. He peeks up and looks at Steve from over her shoulder. “Know that you’re my sister?” he whispers. Steve’s eyes darken and Bucky's mouth curls. “Well, that shouldn’t bother you either, puppy. You and I both know your affinity for all those naughty step-sibling videos.” She whines miserably and he hushes her. “Aw, don’t be embarrassed. It’s actually a really popular genre. Number … seven, on Pornhub?” He kisses her cheek. “Right up there with M/F/M threesomes.”

Adorably, her breath catches and she stiffens against Steve’s body, now even more aware of his hulking form behind her.

Bucky hums, pleased. “There’s no need to be ashamed.” He peels her panties to the side and slips the tip of one finger along her lips. She’s not exactly soaked, but she’s not completely dry, either. “Of course, actual brother-sister incest isn’t quite as popular, but we know there’s a niche market for everything, don’t we?” Lena makes an outraged little sound that goes straight to his dick. He leans back enough to watch her expression as he holds up the second of the party favors for her to see. It’s white and thin, less than two inches long, and shaped like an itty bitty torpedo. “Something else to help you loosen up,” he tells her gleefully. “Do you want to take a guess where this one goes?”

She makes an adorable ‘meep’ of a sound and clamps her legs closed over his hand. “Don’t.”

He laughs. “Aw, good guess, little sis’, but not quite.”

“Step-sister,” she corrects shakily. “Bucky ...”

He smiles as he tries to read her, confused and tentative at first, but then growing into something devious. “Oh, I see. You’re honestly embarrassed about that? That people know we grew up together, shared the same house? Mmm." He licks his lips. "That’s not all we shared.”

"Stop it."

He watches her, thrilling in a huge surge of lust mixed with something dark and nasty. “Wow,” he astounds, goading her. “Oh boy. Just think what you’d do if they all knew the truth.”

“Bucky please.”

“Steve knows, you know. I told him forever ago.” He watches her eyes go wide and her body stiffen against Steve’s.

“You … you told …”

“Oh, don’t worry, sweet pea. He thinks it’s hot, too.” Lena looks honestly too shocked for words, and Bucky leans down to give her an absolutely filthy kiss, slipping his tongue into her mouth and holding her jaw there for it while, between her legs, he drags the suppository through her moist folds. She squeaks, and he pulls back. He lets her see him handing it to Steve. “Will you do the honors, pal?”

“What?” Lena breathes, lost. The sweet, dumb thing.

Steve keeps hold of the tie wrapped around her neck, but he has to let go of her waist to get at her. Bucky’s able to grab her just as she starts to try and fight it. “Ah ah ah, hold still,” he coos, yanking her wrists down at her sides in an iron grip. He steps even closer, squeezing her between his body and Steve's to subdue her wiggling, pressing his thigh forward between her legs. She freezes when her fighting just puts more pressure on her clit, and Bucky hums, pleased. “Good. Be a good girl now, Lena. We don’t want this to hurt.”

She goes straight back to struggling, and Steve shoots him a peeved look from over her shoulder. Bucky growls and sticks his face in her hair, warning lowly, “You know: there’s a syringe of morphine waiting in the wings for your boy back there.” Lena stills again, and he hums, “That’s right. Now, if you want him to actually get it before I let the widows have at him, then you’d better stop fighting and take what’s coming to you.” She sobs at the corner he’s got her backed into, but she doesn’t go back to fighting them. Bucky keeps her in his firm grip so that Steve can get to work behind her. “And you were wrong, puppy: It doesn’t go in your pussy.”

It’s too late for her to react. By the time her eyes widen in realization, Steve’s hand is already at her backside.

Bucky grinds his thigh forward as her pupils expand from the feeling, the bundle of aphrodisiacs summarily pushed up inside her tight little pucker. “You keep that in, now,” he warns. “You should start feeling it in the next few minutes, then I’ll give you your real consequence.”

She sobs quietly. “I hate you.”

“Old hat, baby.” He steps away from her, leaving Steve to keep her in place. The promise of lessening Gleb’s upcoming pain seems to be motivating her to behave. Bucky walks back over to the pole where he's got the sad sack tied up. Just to scare the crap out of him, he spends a moment tracing all the different tools that’ve been laid out for their use.

“Please,” Gleb begs.

“Shshsh,” Bucky coos, stepping close and cradling his face, intimate. “You fucked my baby sister,” he says. “What did you think was going to happen when I got a hold of you, hm?” Gleb trembles in his bindings and Bucky reaches for the pliers—a classic. Gleb’s eyes all but bug out of his head. “Colectăm mereu,” Bucky purrs in Romanian, reminding him who he’s dealing with. “You stole from the Bratva, son. Now you have to pay the price.”

“Please. I-I’ll do anything!”

He punches him in the gut, then grabs him by the hair and hisses in his face, “You already did everything! Took what belonged to me. Not very smart.”

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry!"

He punches him again. "I sure hope that pussy was worth it.” He smiles while Gleb is trying to regain his breath. “Eh, it probably was. I should know.” Gleb squints in disbelief, and Bucky feels another perverse thrill shoot through him. “What?" he laughs. "Don’t look at me like that. I thought you knew. She didn’t tell you she likes to fuck her brother?”

Gleb’s face screws up. “Stepbrother.”

“You know, I’m getting real tired of that misconception,” Bucky drawls, turning back around to get a look at his Little one’s face. Her head is tipped back against Steve’s shoulder, the drugs working into her system by now. Bucky grins. “I told you I’d get you to loosen up, didn’t I? Big brother knows how to make you relax.” He tosses the pliers aside and saunters slowly back over to her. "I just told Gleb about us,” he says. “But I think it’s about time we make a more public announcement, don’t you, sweet pea?”

Her eyes widen. “Bucky, no.”

He grins wolfishly and spins around. He calls out to get everyone’s attention, and in a few seconds everything has quieted, the room eerily devoid of chatter despite the continuing pulse of the club’s music. Bucky goes over to the bar and demands something to toast with, and a flute of champagne is produced with shocking speed. He turns back to the room. “Thank you all for coming out tonight to help me welcome our beloved Polina back home!”

Some people clap, perhaps expecting some long, heartfelt speech. But Bucky cuts to the chase and says, “I’m sure you all know about she and I.” He waits, amused and sipping the champagne. When the crowd shifts nervously, he waves his hand at them and scoffs. “I mean that’s common knowledge, right? Everybody’s tongues were wagging when my father dumped my mother to marry his whore.”

He gestures back to where Steve is holding Lena, supporting her increasingly drugged little body. “Sweet little Polina was only a few years old, back then. And my dad’s infidelity wasn’t her fault." He shrugs. "So I inherited a bratty little sister. I guess the fact that we were still both kids makes the whole thing even juicer, huh? I know you all talk about it: 'The Dragon likes to fuck his own step-sister'. How scandalous.”

He laughs and walks back over to Lena. He caresses her face, leaning in to give her a dirty kiss with plenty of tongue. The crowd murmurs louder. Bucky pulls back and looks out at the room. “The Bratva wives love a good scandal. Don’t you, ladies?” A few of the wives in the crowd look flustered at being called out. Bucky salutes them with his champagne glass. “Well you’re in for a real treat, my dears. Because little Lena back here isn’t just my step-sister. Oh no.”

(Bucky’s always liked putting on a show, so he’s unfazed when making the actual announcement makes his cock harden further in his pants.)

“You see, dear old Dad was fucking around with his pretty shlyukha for a few years before he finally married her, and you know he even knocked her up.” The room goes absolutely silent, and Bucky feels a sick thrill go through him. “That’s right,” he croons, looking back over his shoulder at the stricken expression on his Little one’s face. “This sweet pea isn’t just my step-sibling: she’s my father’s daughter.”

It takes a surprisingly short amount of time before the crowd goes back to chattering, everybody staring wide eyed—some with disgust, others with excitement over this incredible new thing they have to be outraged over. Bucky shouts at the bartender to hand out champagne to anyone who wants it. He toasts the room. “To Polina!” Only a few dozen people raise their glasses and murmur in response, too shocked to know what to do in light of this revelation. Bucky really doesn’t give a crap. This is just a display of his power, just another way to show them—and her—that he can do whatever the fuck he wants and nobody is going to do a thing to stop him. The room slowly returns to the bustle of before, and Bucky returns to stand in front of his girl. “See puppy?” he taunts, lifting the champagne flute to her mouth. “I told you nobody would care.”

It’s a lie. Everybody cares, of course. But his point has been made. He watches as she willingly drinks the champagne. “Good girl,” he praises, setting the empty glass aside. He cups Lena’s face and gives her a tender kiss. “Now, why don’t we give them a show, huh?”

“Bucky,” she whispers, a plea.

But he can see her body relaxing into Steve’s hold despite her mortification, the drugs softening her up just like Bucky’s been waiting for. He pulls the remaining party favor from his pocket and holds it up for her to see. “Don’t worry,” he coos. “Your punishment isn’t going to hurt nearly as bad as Gleb’s.”

He turns the base of the tiny pocket vibrator on and starts it buzzing. “Now, let’s get you really begging, why don’t we?”

Masterlist

If you like what you read and feel so inclined, please consider dropping a tip in the Kofi🍵 cup!

Commissions: contact via Tumblr messenger or here

113 notes · View notes

astroyongie · 2 months

Text

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ Heaven and Back

Parings: Sunghoon x Reader

Warnings: slight smut, mentions of drug and alcohol intake, poor mental health, sub intendo of auto harmful behaviors.

Read with: https://open.spotify.com/intl-pt/track/1JdQibdvxgcrB8Rv1KFndw?si=0a3f35afa0414d89

It was ringing. The loud sound of the music bombing against your earbuds and people punching each other to get inside the club made you a little too alert. It had been your idea really. To come clubbing, in a pathetic attempt to numb the feeling inside your chest due to your breakup. You had exaggerated your makeup, done your hair nicely, asked your nail tech to give your hands a second life and your short dress glued to your curve like a glove.

You were self conscious. But at this particular moment, you would have traded your soul with the devil if it meant to feel anything but the hurt that was consuming your being. Your friend had warned you, this club was different, it wasn't the type of club one would come to just have fun.

You knew it. Yet, you wanted to know what it felt like to go hell and back.

“Are you sure you wanna do this, y/n?”

Your friend yelled at your ear which only made you laugh. You had drowned your 3 shots in less than half an hour, still not tipsy enough to join the crowd dancing. Laying before you on the countertop, was your half drunken drink, vodka with coke if you remembered well. What you hadn’t expected was the bartender to slip in front of you what seemed to be a yellow pill with a smiley face on it. A pill of ecstasy.

Honestly, if anyone said to you that you would one day be in one of Itaewon's most renowned nightclubs, drinking to your heart’s content and getting high, you would have laughed at their face.

But shit happens. And right now, your heart was too broken, too foul to even rationalize the danger of your actions. No, you weren’t sure. Probably mixing alcohol and this type of stimulant was a terrible idea, but you were past the curiosity. You just wanted the pain to stop. As long as you could numb these feelings on your chest and forget about that prick that broke your heart, you would be fine.

“C’mon, don’t think I would puss out of this!” you said with a loud voice, almost like you were trying to reassure yourself. The music was resonating loudly, the atmosphere of the club humid and thick in smoke. The scent of alcohol and cigarettes was heavy, it made your eyes cry but it also emptied your mind of any feeling.

Without a second thought you popped the pill inside your mouth, using the vodka to wash it away. Your face scrunched at the bitter taste before you yelled in excitement. Taking your friend by her arms you dragged her to the dance floor ready to allow your mind to turn into nothing putty.

“Hey, are you sure you are alright?” Your friend asked, their worried features making you want to get violent. You hated when people took pity on you.

“I am fine, geez stop asking and just let me have fun!”

“Fine, just don’t get yourself in trouble!”

You ignored them, proceeding with your sloppy and most certainly, embarrassing dance moves. The music was loud, the beat hitting your eardrums as you danced to the sound, laughing. Sticky bodies danced around you, and you tried to blend in with their mouvements, allowing yourself to release the pressure on your shoulders. You could feel the effects of ecstasy hitting your body. You felt lighter, not worried about the thoughts of others. It felt euphoric. You closed your eyes, allowing the music to take possession of your body as you moved without a care of the world.

Feeling a soft hand on your smaller back, you open your eyes. Behind you, a young man stood there, his light brown hair falling gently over his eyes. He looked amused by you, a soft smile on his lips as he leaned into your ear.

“Sorry, but you have been sticking on me.”

“I was?” You asked, turning around to face him before leaning to answer, talking over the music. He smelled like vanilla. “Sorry about that”

“It’s fine,” The stranger boy said, locking eyes with you for a moment, before adding “You okay?”

“Shit, yeah sorry!” you said, almost stumbling on your own feet. His hands gripped your waist tighter, not allowing you to fall. “What’s your name?” You asked, obvious of his actions, your own brain functioning way slower than usual.

The boy smiled wide. “Sunghoon”

“Well, Sunghoon, you are gorgeous!”

“And you are drunk”

You shrugged, not caring. In another context you would have been ashamed of yourself and ask forgiveness for your shameless behavior, but with the drug in your system you couldn't care less. You felt way too satisfied.

“Sunghoon, wanna dance with me?”

You asked, grabbing the boy by the collar of his white shirt. He didn't struggle, instead he offered you a nod, his hands lazily going to your hips, without putting much pressure in case you changed your mind.

You smirked, the foreign feeling of having someone else touching you, making you elated. Dancing with Sunghoon proved to be way easier than what you thought. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you swung your body left and right at the rhythm of the music. He followed your movements easily, a little smile plastered on his face.

His eyes watched you attentively and you grinned. This was so much easier when the drug and alcohol were in your system and you didn't care about the dumbass of your ex anymore. Your heart felt light and for a moment, you wanted nothing more but to enjoy this. You felt Sunghoon’s lips travel close to your neck, without totally touching you. The ghosting feeling makes you tighten your grip around him.

“Stop teasing me”

You groaned, pulling yourself closer to him, directing his face to your own lips. The kiss was subtle, yet needy. Sunghoon wasted no time in licking your bottom lip before slipping his tongue inside your mouth. The sinful sound you made was muffled by the loud music in the background, your bodies still moving together.

You kissed him back, until you were forced to break apart from the lack of air. You licked your lips flashing him a smile before you turned your body around. This time, Sunghoon’s hands gripped your waist firmly as your body grinned against his, your hips moving sensually against his bulge. You couldn’t hear him but you felt his body rigid against yours. This felt way more nice than what you were expecting.

“What’s your name?” Sunghoon asked, his hot breath against your ear making you shiver. You turned your head slightly to answer him

“Y/n”

He hummed in response, capturing your lips in the process. The kiss was slower, more passionate and wet. He moved his tongue slowly against yours, his hands shamelessly traveling from your exposed thigh, up to your waist. You could feel everything, from his breath and his taste and it was driving you crazy. You needed more. You needed him more, that was a certainty.

“Wanna go somewhere quieter?” Sunghoon asked against your lips, planting a few light ones along between his words.

You agreed with a nod of your head. Parting away from you, Sunghoon held your hand before pulling you away from the dancefloor. At this point, you didn't even remember your friend and honestly, you didn't care at all. The people started to be less and less, and the moment you got more air to breathe, you felt your legs weak. A crashing wave of sickness making your body shiver in cold sweat.

“Hey, you okay?” Sunghoon asked as you both reached the bottom of the staircases, that led you to the lounge. It was not a private space, but it provided comfort for those who needed a breath from the euphoria happening downstairs. You nodded your head. “Yea, I just want you” You murmured, trying to reach on your tiptoes to kiss him. When your lips were on his earlier, you didn’t feel this awful. Sunghoon leaned down, kissing you once again. The kiss was this time softer, almost caring and you felt your whole body shake in need. Or perhaps it was the effects of alcohol and drugs finally catching you up for your mistakes.

When he broke apart again, Sunghoon helped you up the stairs until you both reached the lounge. His hands were still on your body, leading you to one of the empty red couches. When you finally sat down, you felt your head turning, the dizzy feeling making you nauseous. You felt Sunghoon sit next to you, but you could barely see him. The strong scent of vanilla was the only thing stopping you from dripping into unconsciousness.

“You okay?” Sunghoon asked once again, his hand on your exposed thigh burning your skin. His voice was worried, but when looking at his face, you couldn't even process his facial expression. You nodded, your hands searching for his warmth as you tried to pull him into yet, another kiss. His lips moved gracefully against your, and you were aware of how pathetic you might look, the boiling feeling reaching your stomach.

A bad trip? you thought. The drug was making you feel sick, and even the sweet taste of sunghoon wasn’t erasing that unsettling feeling of guilt inside your mind. Your 3 years relationship had just finished and you were coping miserably. Instead of facing your emotions, you were in a club drugged, drunk and kissing this nice stranger.

You wanted to throw up. No, you didn't have the energy for that, you were just feeling yourself slip away. Were you going to die in the arms of a stranger?

Sunghoon pulled away, his gaze watching you. You faintly noticed his seriousness. His hand caressed your cheek and you felt your skin wet. Were you crying?

“You lied, you are not fine. You are terrified.”

The graveness of his voice made you break. Without controlling your body anymore, you sobbed in shame, hiding your face in your hands. Sunghoon gently held you, pulling you close to his body.

“I don’t want to die. But I feel like I am dying, why everything hurt so much”

“It 's okay.. I am here.”

Sunghoon held you, the warmness of his body calming the waves of shivers running down your spine. This was beyond sad. Grinding on a stranger and crying on his arms like you have known him all your life.

“I wanted to feel heaven. But why am I feeling like hell?.”

“Y/n?, hey y/n”

The sound of Sunghoon’s voice became muffled, as if he was meters away from you. The lights were getting dim and you felt your ears rigging. And then, nothing. The darkness you had tried to run away from, crawling back to you and swallowing you whole.

You were finally doing it. Going to Heaven and back.

#Sunghoon #Sunghoon x reader #Sunghoon headcanons #Sunghoon imagines #Sunghoon scenarios #Sunghoon reactions #enhypen #enhypen sunghoon #enhypen x reader #enhypen headcanons #enhypen imagines #enhypen scenarios #enhypen reactions

48 notes · View notes

noellerain · 9 months

Text

Antithetical ♡ [suguru x afab!reader]

noe: this man is living rent-free in my mind for days now so you can consider this fic a brainrot/love letter to this gorgeous son of a bitch.

Warnings: [ DEAD DOVE! ] dark smut, noncon/rape (reader to Suguru), somnophilia (reader to Suguru), femdom, babytrapping (reader to Suguru), profanities (vulgar words), intoxication, spitting, implied that Suguru is drugged but not by the reader, obsessive behavior (reader to Suguru), proofread once, Gojo has a cameo lol, just over all madness. [LET ME KNOW IF I MISSED SOMETHING! THANK YOU!]

+ BLOCK, DON'T REPORT!

[If you read the warnings then proceed to click/press the cut button, you consent on reading the dark material below.]

Suguru Geto is midnight personified. His jet-black hair reminds you of the night sky when it's void of the moon and the stars. His eyes are blackholes that can consume your entirety if you look hard and long enough. His scent smells like the Earth after rain: a unique, addicting scent that makes your stomach flip yet still brings you a sense of warm melancholia.

Suguru Geto is way out of your league. You know that. But while everyone is fawning over his annoying best friend, Satoru, your love-struck eyes are fixated on that enigma of a man. Just one look, whether it's intentional or in passing, can shake and blow you away like the flimsy petals of dandelions.

Tonight, as you stand in the dark corner of Satoru's living room while everyone else drinks and dances to the rhythm of the song booming from the speakers, the walls seem to close in on you.

There he is, sitting on the couch with his arm around a girl. His hair is up in its usual bun; tresses hanging on the side of his face. He's wearing a simple white shirt and black cargo pants. The simplicity amplifies his good looks.

They say that he and Satoru are two different sides of the same coin. Satoru's boisterous personality is on the face; one look at him and your alarm immediately goes off. Meanwhile, Suguru's serenity is the reason why he catches people off-guard when his true colors show.

He is a fucking mastermind. He plays the good guy role; carefully making the bed and patiently inviting his victim to lay down on it. Perhaps that's their difference: Satoru's always in a rush, his thirst never quenches. Suguru, on the other hand, takes his time. You conclude that it makes the game more enjoyable to him. That sweet, sweet reward of fucking someone dumb after all the efforts you exert may be Suguru's personal brand of drugs.

He leans closer to the girl, whispering something in her ear. She laughs and the bubbling jealousy in your chest tastes more bitter than the liquor you're currently drinking in a red cup.

It's a vicious cycle of his. For two years now, you've been nothing but a bystander. Always in the corners, watching. You've seen him lay out an elaborate plan, working his way down to different women's panties. When he finally gets what he wants, he puts his pants up and throws them away like ragdolls. Then he puts his façade— back to square one again and again and again.

Your face contorts into a frown when he smoothly puts his hand on the girl's knee. From your perspective, it looks unintentional; like his hand just happens to be there. She smirks at him, obviously enjoying the situation she's in. Your eyes narrow on his long, slender fingers, now gently rubbing her skin. It's fucking funny how life slaps you in the face over and over; there he is, the object of your obsession, sitting next to someone else, to anyone else, to everyone else but you.

His fingers slide up her thigh and give them a squeeze; the hem of her miniskirt bunches up on her lap. Your mind is beginning to go into overdrive. It's so unfair. So fucking unfair. What do others have that you don't? You take a big gulp on your drink.

"Oh? What a pleasant surprise!" Satoru's loud voice snaps your mind to sanity; your soul back to the dark corner where you're standing.

You look up at him as he strides lazily over to you, a red cup in his hand as well. He's wearing a tight black shirt and jeans that hang loosely around his waist. "I don't usually see you at my parties. What's a pretty girl doin' here in the dark?"

He leans against the wall and takes a big gulp on his drink. You don't humor his attempt for a chat. You can still feel your simmering envy as you look down on the brownish liquid in your cup.

"Not gonna entertain me, huh?" He laughs; an annoying sound that grinds your ears. "I understand, though. After all, I have a better vision than my best friend over there."

You whip your head to him, confusion all over your face. Heart beating loudly in your chest at the mention of Suguru, his one and only friend. Your lips are pursed and your brows are deeply furrowed. "What do you mean?"

He drinks again, his electric blue eyes glimmering with malice. When he puts down his cup on his side, he gives you an impish smirk. "Heh. Watch."

He pushes himself off of the wall and begins to walk away. But before he's beyond your earshot, he yells: "Second floor, last room on the West wing!"

You roll your eyes. As usual, Satoru is a menace. A baffling menace. You do not get a single word he says and you have no plans on trying. After all, guys like him are meant to be heard, not to be listened to.

Your eyes go back to Suguru. He's still on the couch but fortunately, his hands are now off the girls' body. Instead, he's pressing his forehead with his thumb while his eyes are shut tight as the girl next to him continues to babble away. The sight strikes some chords in your heart. You notice the creased skin between his forehead. It only goes away temporarily when Satoru appears and hands him a red cup.

You gnaw on your bottom lip as he taps on his forehead again with the pad of his thumb. You glare at the girl whose red lips continue to move. What is she even saying to him?

Your mind begins to wander. If it's you who's next to him right now, you're fairly certain that you won't be talking at all. You'll stare at him and listen to everything he says; hang on to every word. But Suguru is not selfish like Satoru. You know that it will be a conversation between the two of you; not just him yapping away like Satoru does.

Your heart skips a beat just by imagining how he'll look at you while you talk. He will nod, smile... Laugh. Gives you pennies for your thoughts. You pray to a higher power for the chance though you're certain that you won't be able to mutter anything coherent.

A few minutes pass by and the girl leaves. Suguru also leaves and a part of you dies inside again and again every time you see him with another girl. Where are they going? Is he going to sleep with her? Kiss her, touch her, claim her in places your mind does not dare to imagine? You finish your drink in one gulp before storming to the kitchen to grab more.

Your childishness tells you that your anger and envy are valid. After all, you've been pining over Suguru for two years now. Every time you try to move on, there is a pang of guilt in your heart. You never had him but he lives in the trenches of your heart, his name emblazoned in your mind.

But the rational part that's left of your intoxicated brain tells you that it's wrong. That you have no right to feel this way. Suguru doesn't even know you. How can you let him put a chain in your limbs and control you this way?

You wipe the liquor that dribbles down your chin. You look up and see through your hazy eyes that there are less people in the living room now. What time is it? You look down on the bottle of alcohol that you're cradling in your arms. Hiccuping, you realize that you drank half of its contents.

You stand up and the world around you begins to spin rapidly. Your knees feel like boiled noodles, unable to keep themselves upright. But still, you persevered. You leave the living room, determined to see Suguru. You decide that the madness has to stop once and for all. You can't live your life—

"Second floor, last room on the West wing!"

"Fuck you." you mutter beneath your breath as you hit your head with your fist repeatedly. For some reason, Satoru's voice decides to pop up out of nowhere.

You hiccup and begin your search to find Suguru. You look for him outside, trying to spot him in smaller crowds. At the pool area, staring at the people fucking on the water, the bathrooms… he's nowhere to be found.

You crawl your way upstairs, opening the rooms but either they're locked, empty or some people are fucking like rabbits inside.

You squint your eyes as you peek through the crevice of another door you opened. Another couple is fuck— wait. The jeans pooling on his ankles, the tight black shirt and the messy mop of white hair...

"Satoru," you drawl, inserting your head through the space between the door and the doorframe.

He whips his head, bullets of sweat dripping down his face as he smirks. "Hey. Anything I can do for ya?"

His breath is labored as he speaks; his hips continuously drilling against the girl's cunt. You can't see her from the angle but knowing Satoru, he's into beautiful girls. Beautiful, whiny girls. Her moans sound pretty, too.

"Where's Suguru?" You ask, blinking slowly.

"Told ya," he laughs. "Second floor, last room on the west wing."

"K," you sigh. You close the door and pray for the poor girl. You've never seen Satoru in action before but gods, are the rumors right. He is merciless and bursting with vigour.

You drag yourself to the last room on the West wing. Frankly, you don't even know what you're going to say to him. Does he even know you? Is he going to even hear you out?

Dread fills you to the brim when you stop in front of the door. What if he's not even here and Satoru is just messing with you? Worse, what if you see him fucking someone else inside? Gods.

You slap your cheeks to try and get a hold of what's left of yourself. It's a good thing that you're still somewhat sober despite drinking half of that bottle. You thought the liquor will make you forget but here you are, about to make the most stupid choice you've possibly ever done in your life.

Staring hard at the door, you take a sharp breath in. Your shaking fingers close around the cold knob before slowly turning it. The door finally opens and you feel your heart throb in your chest.

You peek inside then gasp in surprise.

"Su... Guru?" You whisper, pupils blown wide from the sight sprawled in front of you.

He's laying down on the mattress with his luscious long black hair spilling on the pillows. His eyes are closed and his chest is heaving erratically. Bullets of sweat drip down his forehead and there is a deep frown on his face. He seems asleep but he looks far from being peaceful.

You enter the room; your eyes languidly take in the curves of his shoulders, the muscles on his arms and his chiseled torso that are illuminated by the shaft ray of moonlight pouring through the window. Suguru always opts for loose clothing; his naked image that you've sculpted in your mind is a drastic comparison to the real thing. You thought he's going to be built like the gods but... He isn't. There is still softness; a mix of godhood and humanity in his features and your fingers twitch with the desire to touch and hold him.

Your eyes travel down his black sweatpants. The poor garment is hanging on for its dear life on his prominent v-line. His lower abdomen has a pathway of light black bush that leads to his...

You swallow thickly. There is an indentation of his dick against the fabric. You know it's wrong but your body begins to feel that familiar warmth. Here he is, the source of your mirth. The destination of your late night adventures when deep-seated desires stir. The subject of your dreams, of your fantasies, the muse of your high as thick hot cum dribbles down your inner thighs while you gasp for air; reality settles and you feel pathetic with your fingers knuckle-deep inside your cunt.

You should leave. But then what? Remain on the sidelines, longing for him, envying other girls and touching yourself to the idea of him? Here he is, served with his walls down. If you can have him once, just once…

You close the door. The sharp sound of the lock's bolt sends tingles all over your body. Slowly, you approach him. Shame burns your gut and makes your cheeks flushed. But you're here. You're here now. What matters is right now.

Slowly, you kneel in the space between his spread legs. The mattress shifts and you eye him nervously. But Suguru is still in deep sleep even when you pull down the waistband of his sweatpants and his cock springs free.

"Ah..." You breathe out, calming your heart. It's beating in your ears now as you stare at his length that's resting on his lower stomach.

The picture of his dick that you've crafted in your head is similar to the real deal and that makes you uncharacteristically giddy. It's on the longer side and its bulbous crown is pinkish in color.

With shaking fingers, you reach for it. He stays still even as your hand closes in around the base and gives him a few pumps.

"Suguru…" you whisper. The normalcy of you whispering his name like a prayer is true only in your bedroom as you touch yourself. But right now…

You continue your ministries as you stare at him anxiously. Is he going to wake up? A part of you wishes he does. Hoping that you will get to experience the stories you've heard from the women he fucked before. For him to watch you as you serve him, the memory ingraining in his mind. Your chest burns with envy again but you get a grip of yourself.

Who cares? The pad of your thumb caresses his tip. Your experience will be different. Exclusive.

You lean your entire torso down, your ass hanging in the air. You purse your lips and gather a blob of saliva before spitting it out on his dick. You use your own fluid as lube, pumping him a little bit faster now.

"So pretty, Suguru," you giggle when he breathes deeply. His cock is smooth and it's now starting to take a rigid stance. "I'm sure you taste pretty, too."

You descend your lips and pepper his length with feathery kisses. Lolling your tongue, you give him a few kitten licks, particularly the tip that you find endearingly charming.

He smells so good, too. Sweet like warm vanilla. You open your mouth and shove his length in. He's a bit longer than what you can take so your hands wrap around what's left of his dick, pumping it simultaneously as you bob your head.

He moans in his sleep, tossing a bit. Tears prick your eyes when his length hits the back of your throat. Your hands instinctively squeeze his hips, putting him in one place. You hollow your cheeks and pick up your pace, tongue swirling and licking the tip that's now leaking with precum.

"Haaa…" he gasps and you freeze.

You look at him; your eyes widen when you meet his dilating pupils. "W-what…"

He seems at loss but he doesn't push you away. Suguru blinks a few times at you as he heaves. You can almost see the cogs in his brain turn as he takes it all in.

You quickly release his dick with a loud pop before straddling him by the waist. "Shhh… It's okay."

You cup his face as panic settles in your nerves. You stare deeply into his eyes but notice that they're… absent. It's as if they are somewhere else even though they're looking at you.

"It's fine," you whisper. "It's fine. You're good. Trust me."

His head falls back on the pillows and he winces. You take the chance to finally kiss him, your legs pressing against his sides. He lays motionless, his eyes now closed. Panic dissipates from your nerves… now replaced by the thrill of it all.

You cup his cheeks and forcefully slither your tongue in. You shut your eyes and moan into his lips; he tastes like peppermint. Hollowing your cheeks again, you suck on his tongue.

When you pull away, a string of saliva keeps your lips connected. He opens his eyes, whispering something along the lines of "Who are you?"

You don't answer. Instead, you kiss and lick his skin. Worship every nook and cranny of his flesh, marking him. Your hands are all over the place too, touching him, staining his body with your shameless, scorching affection that you can no longer contain.

Your mouth envelops around his nipple as your other hand kneads on the other. You look up at him while you suck like a starved baby. He groans, his weak body trembling a bit.

"You like it?" You ask, swirling your tongue on his perked nipple. "You like being sucked like this, Suguru?"

He mumbles something that you didn't catch and do not honestly care about. Your lips go south, reaching his happy trail and his cock again.

"S-sto…p," he sighs when you press your face against his dick. "Stop… it…"

"But it makes you feel good, though…" you reply. "See? You like it. You're hard."

You shove it in your mouth again. Suguru groans like an angel as his hips buck upwards; his dick reaching the back of your throat again. He says he wants you to stop but his entire body's reaction does not match his words.

"Stop!" He screams, trying to pull away. But you keep your head in place, gripping his hips. Greedily, you suck him off until his cock trembles and spurts hot ropes of milky cum in your throat.

You pull away and swallow hard— he tastes salty. You smirk at him. He's frowning while gasping for breath.

"Wh…"

"Shhh," you shush him, leaning down and kissing his cheek. "It's alright. You taste so good, Suguru."

The words spilling out of your mouth, as well as the desire that is overtaking your body are beyond the heavens now. Your mind is in a haze and your pussy pulsates with need. You want him. You want him so bad it hurts.

"You seem weak," you whisper. "What happened to you?"

"I…" he mumbles.

You coo and kiss him again. "Shhh. It's okay. You're safe with me. I love you so much, Suguru. I love you so, so much."

You sit up on his stomach and take off your top. Your breasts spill out of the garment and Suguru can only watch with droopy eyes.

"I've always wanted you…" you mutter as you lift your hips. You take his hand and bring his fingers to your mouth to suck them.

When they're wet enough, you guide them to your aching cunt. You hold onto his index finger and use it to rub your warm clit. You keep your eyes on him as he remains still, letting you do whatever you want. He looks confused and it makes your heart ache. What's going on with him?

"Gonna put 'em in…" you whisper and slowly ease in two of his fingers inside you.

A moan rips out of your lips when his slender fingers fit snug inside your walls. You move your hips— up and down, up and down until his entire fingers are coated with your cum.

You take them off, licking the middle finger before you align the index in his mouth. He whips his head to the side— a stubborn act of defiance that makes you annoyed.

"What the fuck? You did this with other girls, I bet. Other girls that don't fucking care about you," you angrily snap, cupping his jaw. "And you can't do it for the one who loves you? How dare you?!"

You squeeze his cheeks until his lips form a small opening. You shove his index finger in, coated with your cum. With a maniacal smile on your lips, you watch as he struggles.

"I taste good, right?" You laugh and kiss him on the lips, tasting your own essence on his tongue. "I taste so good."

"S…sto—"

"Sh," you hush him. "Don't say anything. I don't want to hear you talk. I only want to hear you whine and moan. Understood? Such a good boy, Suguru."

You get off of him. Hastily taking off your jeans and underwear, Suguru's eyes widen in panic. Before he can move away, you position yourself on his waist, straddling him again into place.

"I was so fucking envious of the girls you fucked," you laugh. "They say you're good in bed. I'm a bit sad that you're too weak to show me but don't worry, okay? I love you. I love you so much, I'm going to make you feel good."

Suguru shakes his head when he sees you lift your hips. He winces when he feels you drag his dick along your clit, using your cum as lube. You spit on the crown before finally shoving him in.

You hiss in pain as his bulbous tip bullies its way inside you. Suguru thrashes for a bit before you finally take him all in. Eyes rolling to the back of your head, you quickly move to ease the pain; bouncing your hips on his cock.

You look down and see him completely helpless. He's too intoxicated to even think straight, moreso move. It delights you to see him like this; beneath you as you use him like your personal toy.

"Suguru," you gasp for breath, leaning closer to him. "Does it feel good? I feel so good."

He whips his head to the side again but you don't care this time. You're too lost in the feeling of his dick sliding in and out of you; caressing your gummy walls perfectly.

You anchor your hands on his chest and pick up the pace of your hips. It's starting to strain your legs and thighs but you're determined to reach the highest of highs. Strings of whimpers and groans escape his lips. You laugh upon realizing that he doesn't have a condom on and you're not taking any pills.

"Hey, Suguru—" your breath hitches in your throat when he hits that particularly sweet spot inside you. "You're gonna be so mad at me when you wake up tomorrow. Might as well get my fill, huh?"

It's all getting in your head. You arch your back as you put your hands on his knees to anchor yourself. You throw your head back, sliding in and out of him with ease. The squelching sounds of your skins are music to your ears.

Your mind wanders as your legs begin to tremble. God. What happens if you get pregnant? Just the thought of carrying Suguru's baby makes your entire body tingle and the knot in your lower belly tighten. You look down at him and smirk.

If by chance, you get the privilege of carrying his child, will he stay in your life? That's uncertain. But one thing's for sure and that is you will have a piece of him with you forever. A laughter slips out of your lips as the knot in your belly loosens and turns into a mess— hot cum gushes out of you and sprinkles his lower abdomen.

But you continue to move despite your shaking body. You need him to reach that high. You need him to cum deep inside you and fill your womb. Suguru's hips stutter as he lets out a guttural growl. You laugh once again when you pull out and see his sticky cum drip down your inner thighs. Quickly, you gather the fluid and shove your fingers inside you, not letting a drop go to waste.

The reality sets in, akin to the times you spent alone in your bed. But this time, it's different. You don't feel pathetic. Matter-of-fact, you feel happy. Your dream is now fulfilled. This experience is yours and yours alone. And even if Suguru fucks other girls, it doesn't matter anymore. You have a piece of him in you now. You're certain that no girls had their ways with him until you. You were in charge and that made you feel powerful.

Suguru's eyes flutter until they finally close. Sweat drips down his forehead as his chest begins to heave deeply. His face does not look like he's in pain anymore and that makes you smile.

You lean towards him and kiss him for the last time on the lips before you get dressed. You pull up his sweatpants, his cock now flaccid. You don't bother wiping him clean. Even just for tonight, you want him all over you.

You leave the house with your head above the clouds; your throbbing cunt misses him already.

#suguru x reader #geto suguru #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen smut #tw: somnophilia #tw: noncon #tw: spitting #jjk smut #jjk x reader #jjk suguru #dead dove fic #dead dove do not eat #[noelle's works (⁠◕⁠દ⁠◕⁠)]#suguru geto x afab reader #suguru x afab reader #suguru geto x afab reader smut #suguru x afab reader smut #suguru smut

146 notes · View notes

jumbojazzcats93 · 4 months

Text

PTOLEMAEA - Soap

Summary - You meet a charming Stanger while hitchhiking.

Tags/Warnings - Ethel Cain's Thoroughfare, GN reader, dark content, gore, murder, cannibalism, death, noncanon, obsessive love, toxic love

Banner by @/benkeibear @glossysoap @divine--serenity @violet-phantoms @lordlydragon @quietlyignoringyou

Word Count - 1K

He thought she looked so wildly beautiful the first time he saw her. With wind whipped hair, an old satchel and some well trodden clothes; holding her thumb out as she edged the freeway. He was unable to drive passed her, so he pulled over and asked where she was heading and despite signaling she wanted a ride, she looked tense and flighty. He noticed the hilt of a pistol sticking from her pants side pocket where she clenched her fist over and over. "Don't you worry now, m'eudail. I'll take you anywhere you wanna go.", and with that, she jumped in to join him.

You were silent, observing, but you didn't seem to dislike his chatter. He told you about his family and how loving they were. How after his parents passing he left to travel the world; how he wanted to find the love that they had together for himself. When you revealed you didn't really know where you were going, just anywhere but home, he suggested you join him. "Well, lass, how about you come see the west coast with me? Some company is surely welcomed on this never ending journey of ours." That was when he saw his first smile. A hesitant, crooked smile followed by a small chuckle, "Sure as hell beats walkin' don't it?"

Over months of travel he began to crack open your shell. Months of conversations over meals. Months of hours spent on the road together. Months of sharing motel rooms and beds. Months spent unknowingly falling in love with you. You said you didn't believe in love, you'd never felt it from anyone in your life, but were hopeful his search could change that. He had no idea he was the only man to ever show you kindliness and respect with nothing expected in return...

No idea you had fallen in love with him; him and his endless outpour of kindness and warmth, within just the first few weeks of traveling together.

He watched you take in the cross country sights of small towns, busy cities, open country and untouched forests. Watched as you learned to bear your soul to someone for the first time. The search for his love had been long forgotten. How could he see anyone other than the sweet, timid little thing in his passenger seat? He got you all the way to the coast before he could put words to it. You had told him how sorry you were that he didn't find the love he was searching for as he looked out over the California coast and he chuckled as he responded, "Well... I still made it this far without it." You caught his gaze as he turned to you and he thought then that with the wind in your hair, in those old clothes and with that open expression on your face; he had never seen anyone more beautiful. You looked just like you did the day he found you. "Well, maybe not...", he whispered into the sea breeze. "Look at what I've got." Your eyes were stuck to his as he said, "You might not be my love... but Bonnie I doubt it."

He asked you to stay with him. Keep traveling with him and keep exploring with him, taste the night scene of California for a little while. He couldn't let you go. Not when he'd found what he'd been looking for all his life. He needed more of you. His gaze betrayed it, too. You could see it in his eyes that he was consumed by his love for you, but you couldn't recognize it for what it was. Obsession. He wanted to experience everything there was with you.... but it started to prove too much. Too overwhelming. The drugs and the people, the liquor and the lights, his eyes and his gaze. You could see it in his eyes... and even if your mind couldn't recognize it your intuition knew it was no good. You wanted it to stop, but what? You had no idea what you were seeing, so how could Johnny know what to do? The deeper into the drugs he went, the more you felt it. You felt it the night you slept together and he bit you so hard you bled into his mouth. You felt it on your skin like you were on fire.

He promised, promised, promised, promised.

"I need you. I love you. I need you. I love you."

It became frantic, he felt manic; he swore he was suffering under the weight of his love. You had no idea the lengths he could go... You could see it in his eyes, but you had nothing to compare this love to. Everything seems normal when it's the first time. How could you know what you don't know? You couldn't see what was whispering in his ear... what was breathing down your neck.

His eyes. He won't stop looking at you. You didn't know him. You wanted it all to stop. "Please don't look at me. It's too much." He keeps looking at you and you can see it. The shadows. You could see them in his eyes; you couldn't lead him away from them, couldn't bring him back. There was nothing you could do. It had already been done. You just wanted to be his and you wondered if it made him sick. If you were turning in his stomach. Burning his throat. Souring his mouth.

Make it stop. Make it stop. Make it stop. Stop, stop, stop, stop, stop, stop, stop, stop.

You wondered if it finally felt like enough to him. If he finally felt he had received all of you. His freezer bride. He was so handsome as he stood over you. Consuming you. Drinking you in. Your life in his hands. Were you making him sick? You wanted him to know that you didn't blame him. Please, don't think about it too hard. Please, just tuck away that bloody Polaroid. You wanted to tell him as he tore you apart that no matter how your taste sated him, he would never have all of you. Not now.

Not the way Death did.

77 notes · View notes

angel-of-the-moons · 6 months

Text

The Ghost and The Relic

Merc!Ghost x Fem!Soul Survivor!Reader

TW/CW: Chem usage, raiders, slavers, murder, executions, child death.

MINORS DNI I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR CONTENT YOU CONSUME

A/N: Depending on how much I like this or how many people like this I might continue this but god I need to get this out of my head lmao.

☢️💀☢️💀☢️💀☢️💀☢️💀

It'd been four years since he took up this kind of work. Three since he'd joined up with the old man.

It was his idea, really, to form their little "Task Force" and roam the Wasteland, performing jobs here or there for settlements, providing temporary security and escort details for caravans...

But Simon "Ghost" Riley had a thought. Several, actually. But they all muddled together after a while, especially around his "team".

Their whole team, a rag-tag group of "soldiers" from all the way in the Mojave to managing, by sheer dumb luck to come ashore with their families from another goddamn country.

Ghost's family was one such case; they'd apparently immigrated 75 years after the Great War from someplace called London. He didn't care much about it, or his family, given how shit a hand he'd been dealt.

His father, the abusive sadistic bastard that he was, had fucked up his younger brother so badly that he himself turned to chems and booze, almost killing himself in the process.

Ghost had rejected that path, convinced his mother to leave his father, and they took his recovering brother and moved into a new shack he and a few of the other residents of their small farming settlement had built and they settled in there. Ghost took up a job in the local militia, defending their homes and settlements; and he became a terrifyingly good shot.

His little brother got clean, stayed sober, and married the girl from a neighboring farm. She was a good match for him and they both loved each other immensely. And it was to their small unit's great joy when they mentioned they were going to have a baby.

A baby boy. Joseph. Their mother was thrilled.

But it all came crashing down, eventually.

Thanks to the old rat bastard.

Raiders slipped right through their defenses during the changing of the watch, in the dead of night when the farmers were all tucked inside their homes.

They'd taken Ghost's farm first, nabbed him on the way down the dirt path to their shack and drug him to their camp, locked him in an old shipping crate.

He didn't know how long he'd been there, or how long he had been tortured... all he knew was that when he finally got free, their settlement was almost razed to the ground, the majority of the militia dead, women taken for sport.

And his family?

Dead. Well. His mother, brother, and sister-in-law anyways. There was still hope for little Joseph.

When he'd gotten to the meeting hall (or what was left of it) he found his father bound and beaten by the settlers, so tweaked out on jet and psycho he didn't even feel any of the pain.

He'd ratted them all out for some fucking chems, like the narcissistic, sociopathic junkie he was.

Ghost had suited up in the best scrap armor they had, bagged provisions, packed loaded weapons and plenty of homemade throwing knives, and set off to find Joseph and the others that had been taken as slaves.

He didn't even look back when he heard the gunshot from inside the hall.

He tracked them for days, maybe longer. He wasn't sure. All he felt was an all-consuming drive to get his nephew back, to save his former neighbors.

But he was too late. He found Joseph's crumpled little body beneath that of a partially nude woman, one he faintly recognized from the settlement, but not enough to recall her name as the haze settled in over his skin.

All he saw was red. Red, like the blood covering that poor, tiny, fragile body.

He moved in the dead of night, creeping like a spectre as he executed every raider and slaver he came across. He shot some, stabbed or slit the throats of others. One he left with his voice box slashed, another with their liver hanging out, both still alive as they bled to death in their dingy tents.

It took him less than an hour. A bunch of jet-addicted starved fools was nothing against Simon Riley and the black rage that swallowed him up.

He'd killed them all.

He led the surviving captives back to their settlement, along with the dead they could recognize, and then burned the camp.

Ghost cradled Joseph against him, swaddled tight in a ratty, blood-stained blanket.

The whole trek home, all his mind would think about was how tiny Joseph was. How he'd carried him like this multiple times back to his own bed after he'd curled up at their fireplace with their pet dog. How he carried him as a baby, and a toddler...

And now, he had to bury him alongside his parents and grandmother, and their beloved pet.

Simon Riley wasn't... he wasn't dead. But he wasn't alive either.

He was like a walking corpse.

A Ghost.

And his name became apt when he'd assumed that moniker (mostly due in part to the skull balaclavas he'd wear. The most intimidating one being the one with the actual skull attached to it...).

He moved like a Ghost, wandering aimlessly, performing jobs.

Then, he met the old man.

John Price, former NCR ranger, before he decided to retire early and leave. Well, more like he went AWOL.

Price was convincing in bringing Ghost into his makeshift military outfit.

There was Alex Keller, a former Great Khan that Price had picked up after his splinter tribe had been killed by his own former allies, the New California Republic.

Then there was Kyle "Gaz" Garrick, a Brotherhood of Steel scribe who became a soldier over a mission that went FUBAR, and left his chapter to travel with Price and his growing "unit".

Johnny "Soap" MacTavish, a rather peculiar man with a fondness for explosives who somehow managed to get close enough to Ghost to actually be considered a friend. He had been a Gunner, but left them shortly after he realized that he wanted to do good, not just work for caps.

And finally, there was Kate Laswell. Part of a small surviving group of something called the "Enclave" Price had explained what their group was at some point, but none of them particularly cared.

For the first time in what felt like a lifetime Ghost was... Content. He had a purpose, no longer wandering aimlessly, part of a unit. A task force. "Task Force 141" Price named it. Apparently it was a nod to the unit he originally was assigned to as a young recruit for the NCR.

Very few of them focused on their past lives, they'd lost so much in their travels, in the shit order they'd been born in. There was no reason to think about all that, now.

After all, past is the past, is it not?

Not entirely, as Ghost came to find out.

Once they'd gotten through the remains of what used to be "New York City" back before the Great War (now it's simply called New Necropolis, given it's dessicated state, and it was strung tight with "death zones".

It wasn't until they moved a bit East that Ghost suggested they set up a permanent base of ops.

He suggested Boston, Massachusetts. It seemed like a good idea, supposedly riddled with Vaults they could repurpose, military checkpoints they could loot for scavenged gear...

Price surprisingly agreed to send him alone, like he asked. Ghost didn't want to risk the other members of his "family" on a possibility he may be wrong.

But... Ghost was rarely wrong these days.

Especially about the past staying in the past...

☢️💀☢️💀☢️💀☢️💀☢️💀

He'd managed to trek to a ruined neighborhood surrounded by creeks and a river, by the looks of it, emptying out into a large lake with several other tributaries connecting.

Sanctuary Hills, the old, overgrown sign told him it was. Yeah, maybe 200 years ago, it was a sanctuary. But then again, maybe it could be again. A lot of the houses were still intact. Plenty of scrap metal, wood, etcetera.

Put up some reinforcements on the remaining structures by cannibalizing parts from the ruined structures, build some fences, plant a few crops for provisions, stockpile weapons in the cellar behind that one house...

What he hadn't anticipated on was a Pre-War Mr Handy, still futilely standing watch over his previous owner's house.

He took offense when Ghost set up his sleeping bag in the yellow house across from his master's, citing that it was "impolite" to assume the house was uninhabited.

Judging by the dusty skeletons lying in the back bedroom, yeah. It was uninhabited, save for the radroaches and bloatflies that took a liking to the "idyllic" neighborhood.

That damned robot harped non-stop, although the water it purified for him was something he was grateful for, his yammering certainly got on his nerves.

"Oh, you should have met Sir, he was a soldier too, you know! A rather polite chap, loved the Missus and their baby boy! Oh, how I miss them." The robot sighed, sounding almost wistful.

Could robots feel emotions? He'd yet to meet one that did.

But then again how long had this robot been alone, exactly?

Apparently, he remembered when the bombs were dropped. So, a very very long time. Ghost tried telling him his masters were probably dead by now, even in the safety of their "Vault" he couldn't get into. It's been 200 years.

"Look, bot..." Ghost sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose through his mask, setting his hammer down on the table.

He'd been trying to fix up the yellow house for a few weeks. He'd managed some work, namely the roof and larger holes, obviously. Codsworth had even been kind enough to help with the cutting and the welding, just glad to be of service to someone who didn't shoot at him.

"I'm a little busy, here. So if you want to get nostalgic, save it for when I--"

His eyes went wide and he went deathly silent when he heard some kind of alarm blaring across the hills. Very faint, but it was a completely alien sound from the ones he memorized from the area.

He'd grabbed his pistol, and immediately started for the trail leading to Vault 111.

Which... is where he met you.

Dressed only in your blue vault suit, with a Pip-Boy secured to your wrist, you stumbled down, blinded by the sunlight and delirious from being down there for... well.

You'd collapsed against him and Ghost grunted, deciding to carry you over his shoulders back down to Sanctuary.

He noticed a glare in the distance, like the glint from a pair of binoculars, but he paid it no mind.

The moment Codsworth had laid eyes on you, the robot would not. Shut. Up.

He kept chattering on, almost blubbering, actually.

"Oh! Oh, it's the Missus!" He'd declared, obviously confusing you for his owner, long dead...

"Oh, but where is Sir and young Shaun! Oh, why is she alone! Where are the others?" Codsworth lamented dramatically.

Ghost waved him off, checking your vitals and looking at you for any injuries.

You had none. In fact, you were perfect. Your skin was clean, spotless and pristine, unmarred by radiation or scars.

He'd been silently looking over you when you awoke in the dead of night, Codsworth busy purifying excess amounts of water, apparently finding an intact bathtub to fill, so you could have one when you awoke. Or for cooking, or drinking... he didn't really care.

He was so lost in his curiosity of the one thing he'd never seen before: you. A Vault-Dweller, that he didn't register your eyes opening, long, clean lashes fluttering as you blinked, adjusting to the dimly lit room, only illuminated by a single oil lamp.

He'd set up his spare sleeping bag for you to use, while you were unconscious.

He was honestly taken by surprise when you screamed at him; scrambling back in the opposite direction.

Oh. Right.

The mask.

Yeah, it made sense why you were freaked out. Not a lot of Vault-Dwellers were probably rocking skull masks as the latest fall fashion craze...

"Listen." He'd growled out, fixing you with a soft, yet stern glare. Ghost was not without his mercy, and he understood that this new world must have been terrifying for you.

"My name's Ghost. Not gonna hurt ya. What's your name?" He said, sticking his hands up in a non-threatening manner.

When you'd uttered your name, his eyes widened visibly. It was the same name that Codsworth had said. Could be a coincidence.

That is... Until you told him about being frozen. For 200 years.

"I... I woke up, when..." You said, your voice breaking apart to cough, your mouth unreasonably dry.

Ghost had moved to kneel in front of you, handing you his old, dented canteen to drink down in a few gulps before wiping your face with the back of your hand.

"Oh god." You cried softly. "They killed him! They took my baby!"

Ghost's ears instantly perked up, and his own past flashed in the back of his mind before he pushed it aside.

"Who did?" He pressed.

"I don't know. Some... Some guy. A guy with a scar, and a gun, he... There was a woman in a radiation suit, then the man... Nate, he..." Your voice broke off in a choked sob.

He felt pity and sympathy for you after you'd given him bits of information.

And when Codsworth came doddering in to investigate your screams, Ghost knew you were legit.

You were his owner.

And you'd been frozen for 200 years inside an ice box; your family ripped away from you by some cruel force.

After a tearful reunion and the viewing of a highly emotional holotape, Ghost watched as you silently walked back into what used to be your home.

He gave you your privacy to acclimate (kind of) into your new "life", until he decided that some things needed to be said. You couldn't be emotional in the wasteland, that got people killed.

It could get you killed.

So Ghost decided to follow after you, where he found you on your knees in front of your baby son, Shaun's, crib, clinging to a slightly rotted rocketship that was once connected to the mobile that dangled above.

You clutched it to your heart as you sobbed quietly at the horror of it all.

What had the world become? How could you, a former lawyer, survive this?

Ghost cleared his throat and straightened his posture in the doorway, looking at you in the dark. The moon was full, casting dim cool shadows through the holes in the structure.

"I know this 's hard for you." His gravelly voice dragged out with each slow, deliberate step he took towards you.

He had to take it slow, like you were a wounded animal.

'Hnh. Not that far off, actually.' He thought.

"But you got'ta understand. You need to learn how to survive here, now. If you don't, you're as good as dead."

"What's the point?!" You snap, standing to your feet and tossing the plastic rocket at him.

It bounced harmlessly off his barreled chest and clattered to the floor.

"I don't have my son, I don't have my husband, I don't have my family!" You said through fresh, hot tears as your anger and grief rose to the surface.

And just like that, the flames died, and you flickered out, deflating into more quiet cries as you stood, defeated.

"I have nothing."

"Not true." Ghost said, shaking his head. He jabbed his thumb over his shoulder. "You got a bot out there that's been making water for you for bloody hours, now just so you can take a bath. He's still here, and he's been waiting for you all this time."

You looked at him, eyes glassy and oh-so hurt, but you let him continue.

"And you have your little boy. Somebody stole him." His eyes flashed in the darkness of the room, a glint only illuminated by the moon's light, taking more steps to you until he was face-to-face with you, looking down at you.

God, this man was terrifying.

"And you're going to get him back."

"What...? But--but how? I'm just... me! I was a lawyer, for God's sake!" You blathered.

"First thing's first: you learn to survive." Ghost told you bluntly. "Then..."

He reached into the holster on his chest and slapped a pistol into your hands, the weight almost as hefty as the one you felt settle onto your shoulders, and into your heart.

"You learn to defend yourself. You need to learn to shoot."

He turned to walk away, gesturing for you to follow with a jerk of his head.

"C'mon, then. Let's get to it." He grunted.

"Right now?" You stumbled as you followed him out into the ruined street. "It's past midnight!"

"No time like the present."

You couldn't tell, but you were certain this man was smirking at you behind his mask.

"Hey... what's your name?" You asked him as he began to line up old cans and bottles against a rusted car.

"Name's Ghost, like I said. Now, lift the gun and aim down sights. Don't pull the trigger. Squeeze it."

"What does that even mean?" You asked, taking aim as he stood beside you, still as a statue.

'Still as death.' You thought sardonically.

He grunted again, his voice coming out an annoyed growl:

"If you want to survive, you'll learn what it means. Now, keep both eyes open..."

#cod mw2 ghost #cod ghost #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x you #fallout4 #fallout #fallout crossover #ghost modern warfare #modern warfare x fallout crossover #fallout 4

97 notes · View notes

k-marzolf · 5 months

Text

There is thunder in our hearts.

warnings; reader is traded to Billy for a debt, kissing, mentions of sexual assault, language, bed sharing, fluff/angst, fem!reader.

summary; The beginning of your relationship with Billy.

words; 858.

author’s note: alright, I wrote this on very little sleep, so if this is half baked that’s why. Lol

tags; @e-dubbc11 @firexfate @aoi-targaryen

Rabbit Heart masterlist.

&&&&

It had been three weeks since you’d been there, and it was just you and Billy in the house; you couldn’t sleep, and wandered into his study. The fire was roaring in the fireplace, and he was leaning against the mantle with a crystal glass of whiskey in his hand.

His sweater fit him snug, and he looked like some dark prince out of a fairytale, the fairytales that usually meant to tell a lesson—not the sweet Disney ones, as shadows cast harsh angles on his face.

He looked up as you entered tentatively, a lonely soul reaching to another lonely soul.

He watched you, eyes burning in the fire light, taking another sip of whiskey never taking his eyes off you, you felt devoured and worshiped all in one glance. A thrill went through you that you’d never felt with any other man. The man who’d held you as you cried after your father left you with him.

You were crying into Billy’s shoulder, as he held you, rocking you, and whispering tenderly to you. He'd taken you from your father’s home after being traded for his debt. "I'll take care of her now." He'd said, and whisked you away.

Your whole body shook, and Billy kissed your tears away, making you peek up at him from your hiding place. He smoothed the hair from your face, taking out his pocket square and dabbing at your eyes.

“It’s alright, bunny. I’ll look after you.” He promised, kissing your forehead. Your shaking began to subside, and your eyelids drooped, exhausted from so much crying. His fingers stroked your hair, and despite yourself, you rest feeling oddly cared for, something foreign to you.

Your father had never cared, you had always been a burden.

Ever since you’d come into his home, with your tender demeanor, and soft eyes, you’d upended everything. He’d craved you the minute stepped foot in his home, wanted to have you in his bed, not just for sex but real companionship.

“Can’t sleep, bunny?” He asked.

Your heart fluttered at the term of endearment. No one had ever made you feel like Billy did, like you were worth something.

Your mother had been a drug addict, and your father treated you with cold indifference. And while Billy tried to avoid you due to his fear of attachments, every encounter he’d treated you well.

“No,” you whispered, moving to stand in front of him. Without thinking you reached up and touched his cheek, his beard tickling your skin. Billy leaned into your hand, and your heart thudded as he kept eye contact.

You let your hands trail down his jaw, marveling at the feel of his beard, letting your fingers dance across his lips, thumb brushing his bottom lip; you move them down his neck stroking the hair at the nape, and when you finally touched his chest, his hand trapped yours there.

“You’re playing with fire, bunny.” He warned.

You leaned closer, “Maybe I wanna get burned, to consume and be consumed.” You said, voice low.

Billy grabbed the back of your neck, and paused hovering above your mouth, looking for your consent, it was important to Billy who’d had his autonomy taken from him. But you leaned in closer, eyes fluttering.

His mouth touched yours, and you’d never found anything good in kissing. It was just tongues and spit. But god, he made you ache. His hands wandered down to your bottom and he pulled you down with him into his lap, in his chair.

He tasted like whiskey and cigars, and his hands were rough on your skin, and you finally touched his hair, pulling. He groaned into your mouth at that.

He pulled away then, both of you breathing heavily, laughing in delight. He tucked your head under his chin, and you sighed.

With the beating of his heart, you slept against him, feeling safe and warm despite who he was.

When you woke up the next morning, you were on silk sheets. The room had a strong Billy Russo smell to it, cigars and bergamot, and you almost didn’t want to leave.

The door opened and he was there, in all his glory, dressed and looking dapper as usual.

“Come on, bunny. It’s time for breakfast.” He said, giving you a half smile when you whined.

“I’ll get out of bed if you give me another kiss,” you bartered.

He laughed, “Are you negotiatin’ with me?” It was the first time you heard him genuinely laugh, and it was wonderful.

He crawled across the bed, leaning over you, “C’mere, then.” He said, amused.

You wrapped your arms around him as he kissed you breathless again.

You wanted to wake up in his bed every morning.

And he wanted you in his bed.

But he knew a little of your past with your uncle, after looking into you. It was public record. And if he was honest, it drew him to you, after his own sexual assault. You were a kindred spirit. But he wasn’t going to push you until you were ready.

Until then, he’d enjoy your kisses, and tender touches.

#billy russo #billy russo x reader

90 notes · View notes

inuhalfdemon · 24 days

Text

Dirty Dealings (21/21)

Word Count: 2,941 Words

Rating = Mature (Violence)

Chapter 21: The Beginning

This would be terribly dramatic.

It was early morning…still dark. He was nearly ready and if done right; he might just time it perfectly.

Still bleeding; Alastor set aside the unholy dagger and reached for a chunk of the brimstone. He sighed; not really wanting to have to put her through this but knowing he was being left with no other choice. The reaping had its requirements after all…

Starting the incantation, he stepped into the roughly made pentagram he clawed and smeared into the smoking ground. Wildfire had engulfed the swamp and was actively consuming everything that surrounded the spot where their deal had been made. He easily kept the flames at bay but they licked hungrily against the outer circle that was his smearing of blood across the ash and the dirt.

This would be terribly dramatic.

Finishing the incantation; the bloody brimstone burst into a brilliant green flame in his hand. Forcefully; he threw it at his feet; blood spraying from the cut in his palm and catching green fire as it sparked and ignited the blood-smeared points and ring that was the symbol. He inhaled deeply; breathing in the fumes of sulfur and wood smoke into his lungs as if it were a breath of fresh air to calm the nerves.

And then, he summoned Adeline.

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

Tendrils of shadow – moving and twisting through the dark; just as they had before. Adeline had dreamt this dream many nights. Cold touching her; freezing her veins as she is pulled and drug to some dreaded nothing.

Sometimes Alastor stopped it and sometimes he didn’t.

A tentacle of shadows reaches out and touches her; it slithers and wraps itself around her – finding her throat. She feels it tightening; constricting. She chokes and struggles; her hand finding its hold but then everything changes and it’s Alastor who is choking her; claws digging into the skin of her throat and crushing her windpipe. His antlers are flared out long and wide above them and his eyes are glowing a brilliant green. Adeline struggles and his hold on her only tightens. His green eyes narrow into piercing slits that slice through the dark and -

She gasped awake.

A searing heat was radiating around her neck; scorching her skin.

“Adeline…”

She not only heard him; but felt him calling for her.

Being pulled forward; she landed face forward into burning ash and dirt; choking and coughing on the burning air and embers that filled her lungs. Shakily lifting herself up; she saw a long glowing green chain; falling from around her neck and trailing to where Alastor stood; gripping the end. She felt the shackle; heavy and burning on her neck. Green flames burned in a purposeful pattern around her; touching her but not harming her. Beyond the borders of this pattern; a wild swamp fire burned and raged; filling the dark sky with a deadly smoke.

Alastor shifted the chain; claws sliding through the links.

Adeline gasped audibly; her heart wildly palpating in her chest – feeling every hair on her body rising as if they were going up in hackles with the goosebumps that spread across her skin. He was clutching at her soul; touching her in such an invasive way – her whole existence recoiled against it.

“No more games, Adeline.” Alastor murmured. “Tonight, our deal is done.” A deep thunder rolled overhead.

She couldn’t see his face through the smoke and the fire but she could hear his voice. She shook violently; feeling him as he slid the chain through his hands.

“Did you really think that I would watch you throw this away?” He hissed; gripping the chain and she shuddered. “That I would allow it?”

His eyes flared a brilliant green; cutting through the dark and the smoke. Antlers rose thick and heavy; a jutting and twisted crown traveling high above his head. Adeline quailed at the possessive hold he had one her; fingers digging into the scorched and burning ground.

“Please…Luc…” She trembled terribly; tears streaming down her face. “You can’t-.”

“But, I can.” He was snarling and he pulled the chain to her shackle so that it was made taught; her neck stretching painfully with it. A crack of lightning split the sky; rain pouring down in heavy sheets and sending the brilliant red and orange flames of wildfire into hissing and swiftly dying out – never touching the flames of green.

How? How could he just…take her soul?

Panicked; she reached for the collar to her shackle – crying out when he dug his claws into the links and pulled it even tighter.

“Adeline Lorraine LaRue…” Alastor spat out the name and she felt something crumple within her in a crippling way.

“I release you.”

He said it softly. Through her tears; the rain, the ash and the smoke she saw the glowing green of his eyes briefly soften.

What?

Taking the dagger; he quickly swiped the blade across the palm; the previous cut already made closed by the presence of burning hellfire. Bright green burst and flared as the blade dragged through his skin; coating its sharpened edge in burning blood. He brought it down; and it tore cleanly through the links to Adeline’s chain – breaking their connection.

“Our deal is made void, Adeline.” He told her; her chain and shackle quickly dissolving before her eyes. “I no longer wish to possess your soul nor do I mean to claim it.”

Slowly; the glowing green of his eyes died; his antlers curling back into themselves and shrinking back. The green hellfire burning around them slowly ebbed and faded away; the rain coming down turned into an absolute torrent; clumps of ash and bits of licking swamp fire hissing loudly – heat perishing in the drenching shower.

“You may go.” He told her, his voice low. “I am leaving and you will never see me again.” He said, turning away. “Go home. Live your life. I have no more use for you.”

Shaking and cold; she slipped and slid – struggling to her feet. Her teeth chattering.

“You can’t do this.” She said it weakly, watching as he walked away from her. “I didn’t ask for this, I – I didn’t agree to it!” She yelled now.

He kept walking; saying nothing.

“You bastard!!! You don’t just to get to do this!” She was thinking of Henry: how she could do nothing for him now…

Alastor threw up a portal; about to step through it.

“Luc…please…” She called out; meekly.

He stopped. Turning his head; without looking at her he said: “My name isn’t ‘Luc’, Adeline… It’s Alastor.”

“Alastor?” She breathed.

He looked at her then, his fur and antlers soaked and dripping with rain; ears drawn and to the side – a small, sad smile on his face; before he stepped through the swirling of green and was gone.

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

“Alastor!?” Rosie stepped into the studio; finding him there braced against the barrier to the pentagram enclosing his shadow. “What is going on!?” She asked him worriedly.

She had heard the screeching of the creature and hurriedly came to see what had agitated it so.

The dark form moved rapidly back and forth along the walls of the pentagram; trying to find a way to get closer to Alastor. Frantically; it bit and tore at the barrier – screeching and whining in a keening cry. Alastor had his back to Rosie, leant into the barrier, and she could see that his suit and jacket were completely soaked through and that he was shaking.

“Alastor…” She said quietly, carefully approaching him. “What has happened?”

Alastor spread his hands along the barrier; pushing himself off so that he could turn his head and speak clearly to her.

“I-I let her go…” He said it so softly, Rosie didn’t catch it right away.

“The girl? The soul you…?” Rosie paused beside him; not sure whether she should touch him quite yet.

“Yes.” He swallowed. “I released her from my…service.” He laughed lightly but Rosie could hear the manic tone it held.

His shadow continued its agitated movements; trying desperately to press itself closer.

“Alastor, sweetheart.” Rosie braved to touch his shoulder. “It’s going to take some time...”

Taking a deep breath; he turned so that his back was now pressed to the barrier – standing straighter but not quite looking at Rosie.

“She, uh…She really did a number on me.” His ears were moving erratically; his smile twitching at the corners. “I imagine breaking a connection like that…does that.”

“No, hun.” Rosie told him; and he looked at her now. She touched his face – seeing the pain that was there. “But, a broken heart will.”

His eyes widened and his ears dropped and Rosie knew hearing it had shattered him. Without thinking and without hesitating, she pulled him close and held him as he fought the racking sob that forced its way painfully out from deep within his chest.

______________________________________________________________

June 25th, 2020

New Orleans, Louisiana

Adeline fidgeted nervously in the cab all the way to the restaurant; absently shifting the folded parchment of paper back and forth between her hands.

After days and days of crying and fighting to come to terms with everything that had happened; she found it – a note on her bedroom dresser that read:

Our 70th Anniversary;

June 25th, 2020

7 p.m.

You know where…

She wanted to cry and scream and rip it apart – all of it - when she found it; knowing it certainly hadn’t been there hours before. However, the thought never crossed her mind to toss it aside and just ignore it.

Getting out of the cab, Adeline nervously smoothed her dress. She had chosen to wear the red one; the same dress she had worn the first night he had brought her here before they spent many an anniversary at the establishment; enjoying the fine dining and dancing together to their hearts content.

Adeline sniffed as she approached the restaurant; trying to ignore her persistent headache and thought briefly about having to adjust to being a regular mortal. Of course, the first thing to happen to her was catching covid in the very first few days to her brand-new life. She hadn’t had to worry about illnesses like that before so of course she caught this one straight out of the gate. Next; she had to remind herself that she was rememberable now…something that brought immense relief and excitement to her while also proving to be rather problematic when she forgot she couldn’t just take or do things now and walk away with no consequence. She had seventy years’ worth of bad habits to break…

She paused at the entrance to the restaurant, swallowing hard. She wasn’t sure how to think of him…after everything that had happened – where this might leave them. He had taken pangs to ensure she had had a comfortable head-start to things…she found out early that the loft apartment had been completely entitled to her - no payments necessary; she discovered a good amount of money left for her to utilize as she needed and he had somehow obtained all manner of documents; social security, birth certificate, driver’s license - everything she would ever need in order to survive this strange and new existence. Everything had been so carefully prepared for her; it left her wondering how long he had actually planned for this to be the result of the deal that they made…

Taking a deep breath; she entered the restaurant. She was warmly greeted by the Maître D. Giving him her name; he quickly nodded and led her to the table that her and Alastor normally occupied for their dinners there together.

But when she approached the table, it wasn’t Alastor that was seated there across from an empty chair.

It was Henry.

He smiled at her nervously as the Maître D politely helped her with her seat. The waiter was already there to take their drinks. After that was done and before Adeline could say anything; Henry handed her a sealed envelope.

“He told me that if I didn’t give this to you; he’d make sure that I died alone in a dark gutter somewhere.” Henry said; handing it to her and flinching inwardly.

Yep, sounds like him.

Adeline took the envelope and tore it open. Opening the parchment of paper left for her she read:

Dearest Adeline,

Life can feel very long sometimes, but in the end, it goes by so fast…You better live a good life; Adeline LaRue. Teach Henry that it’s worth doing. I leave his soul safely within your capable hands.

With love,

Alastor

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

One year later…

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

June 25th 2021

New Orleans, Louisiana

Alastor’s shadow pulled him to just beside the gravesite within the old cemetery, materializing him smoothly from the darkness. It was nearly midnight; but Alastor just only had this one last visit to see to. After this; he would leave earth and he knew not when or if he would ever be coming back.

His shadow detached itself from him; flitting across the ground, touching headstones, the fencing, and finally shifting itself to meld into the blackest shadows of the old oak tree. Alastor marveled at how useful and powerful it had become by its own right; while still having remained entirely devoted to him and any of his commands. Had he known this to be the result; he may have approached Rosie for an exorcism sooner – or at least considered it.

Alastor had spent the entirety of this last year bonding with and utilizing the presence of his shadow by taking it with him to collect on all the souls he had remaining from closed contracts. The work had taken a great deal of time to complete and whatever free time he had, he had spent it by considering and re-considering the deal offered to him by his new client. Finding it entirely too tempting to decline; he accepted the terms – though, they did come with some considerable restraints…he felt that the reward would surely be well worth the price he’d pay.

Stopping just beside the grave, Alastor sighed.

Sitting just atop of the headstone was a bundle of sunflowers.

“Manman mwen renmen anpil*…” Alastor said softly, speaking to his deceased mother. “Watch over our dear Adeline, and…put in a good word for her…for me. Hell won’t touch her; if I can help it...”

He remembered a conversation he had had with Rosie a year ago; just days following his return to her and his shadow…

"I did not love her, certainly." His gut twisted at the thought; his body and mind acting very differently to something so intimate now that he was wholly himself.

Rosie laughed. "Of course you loved her, Alastor. You let her go! You never would have if you didn't!" He made a disgusted face at that.

"Surely even you can appreciate that love doesn't have to come in devotedly romantic forms." She expressed. "It can creep and bury itself into the heart in many different ways; yes, even cold and dead ones such as our own."

He had chosen to act resentful to the idea; but still felt the pain of a deep and resonating ache in his chest...

He stood quietly beside the grave for some time…remembering.

His shadow slipped from the tree, pausing at the headstone and whining softly as it looked to the flowers. Alastor tilted his head and saw what it meant for him to find…reaching down; he plucked the black rose corsage from the bundle of sunflowers; finding a small note tied to the hellish favor.

It read:

With love,

Your dearest Adeline

He pulled the corsage to his face; pressing a black petal to his lips before carefully stowing it away into the pocket of his suit jacket; keeping it safely with him as he left with his shadow…returning to Hell.

*my dearest mother (Creole)

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

The Epilogue

Some years later…

Adeline made the walk to the old cemetery that day; the same walk she did every year now on this day – June 25th. Sometimes; if she was feeling particularly sentimental or nostalgic; she’d pay an extra visit. It was a beautiful summer day and the sunflowers she brought with her were especially fragrant and bright. All in all; her heart felt light and she felt both happy and confident about her future.

Placing the flowers at the top of the headstone; she carefully knelt herself down, resting.

She remembered coming back here…that first year she started to bring the sunflowers here herself…she came back the very next day – just to see; finding the black rose corsage and note were gone. She knew Alastor had found it and had taken it with him. Since then though, she was certain he hadn’t returned – hadn’t come back to visit the grave of his mother. She couldn’t explain it…she just knew – maybe suspected - he no longer did or could…

“I sure hope he’s not getting himself into too much trouble, whatever he’s up to.” She said aloud; not sure if it really did any good – not knowing if anyone was truly listening - but it somehow made her feel better to try. “You know…he’s not nearly as bad as he likes to make himself believe he is.” She mused. “I…” She swallowed. “I really miss him.”

She sat there for awhile; enjoying the sun and the warmth on her skin….just remembering.

After some time; her back began to ache and with some effort she lifted herself back up onto her feet. Groaning; she stretched and placing a hand on her very swollen belly, she turned to leave - carrying a baby – a boy, that she would soon name: Alastor Lucian LaRue.

[THE END]

26 notes · View notes

unamused-boss · 5 months

Text

Take out Night

Billy Hargrove x Fem oc Hello! Just before we begin this is a fic that will introduce another Oc that I have created. A Billy x Oc to be more precise. I have seen so many other creators, some whom I am mutuals with, make amazing oc. And I wanted to jump on the train with it. Plus I really want Billy to have a weird gf! So I have made a character for Billy hargrove and I hope you like her.

It was all strange when the two first got together. If you mean the Cali boy going after probably the weirdest hot girl in town then you'd be correct. Because that is what happened when Billy Hargrove asked out, and is still going out with, Phoebe Brown.

Yep, Hawkin's local weirdo. Has been seen walking bare foot within the woods. Constantly seeming like she has consumed an intense amount of drugs even though she doesn't even drink or smoke. Claiming it ruins the soul of the body. Her dark brown hair always done up in a new style. Along with her clothes matching her presence, comfortable.

It was a month long gossip train as to why Billy would ask out such a peculiar girl. Many of Billy's, so called, friends said it was because he lost a bet or was looking for something easy. But what the masses do not know it took Billy a whole month before Phoebe even said yes to a date. Billy claimed he has never liked Hawkin's heifers, as much as Phoebe has told him to stop calling them that, he wanted something he thought would bring him excitement. So when he laid eyes on Phoebe Brown, he knew it was her.

Well to get that out of the way with all the sentimental shit that we will get into later. Lets focus on where our couple is at presently. It is the middle of December for Hawkins with a blissful, not to Billy, cold outside. And in front of a little chinese food restaurant sat a charged blue camaro where our couple sits. It is just another of their many at home date nights tonight. Let's see where the night will take them.

“Do you have to do this every time?” Billy asked his girlfriend. Who at the moment has her nose deep within a menu of said Chinese restaurant.

“Yes, what if I wanna try something new?” Phoebe said back to him, still with her face in the pamphlet of the menu.

“Babe there is no doubt in my mind that you have not eaten the whole menu since we have discovered this restaurant.” Billy reasoned with her. “Can we please order the food so we can go back to your house”

Phoebe faced him with a smile gracing her face. “You know, for such a big strong guy, you can be very soft and cute.” The statement flusters Billy, she knows this. But he will always keep his tough guy act up till they get home. So in response to his girlfriend's statement, he turned his head away from her. Which did not help because she could see his ears turning red which meant he was blushing. Phoebe just giggled at him, “Get out of the damn car.” Was all he said to her, but not with any mean intent behind it. So that is what you did. You both got out of the car to make your way in to order your dinner for the night.

“Hey Billy, Hey Phoebe” The cashier greeted, “What can I get ya?”

“We’ll get the spicy chicken combo and spring rolls to go with it.” Billy answered to the cashier.

“We will also take the Lo mien and crab rangoons.” Phoebe added on with confidence.

“Um, who paid?” Billy sassed to her.

“Um, who’s job is it to pay?” She simply sassed back. “I also paid for your gas, be a good boyfriend and pay for your girlfriend's dinner.” Billy just rolled his eyes to her.

“Alright coming right up.” That was all that needed to be said for the two to take their seats in front of the window to wait on their food.

“Hey, can I ask you a question?” Phoebe asked.

“Okay, hit me.” Billy said thinking it was gonna be a challenge.

“Why did you ask me out?” She asked simply.

Billy was silent for a minute. “This isn’t a trap is it? Last time this happened my tire got slashed.” Billy panicked.

“No it’s not… I just- I just think there is someone more suited for you than me.” Phoebe admitted.

“What like some cow on the cheer team?” Billy said very aggressively.

“Billy- I’m serious.”

“The reason I asked you out was because you were different from every other girl I have ever dated.” Billy told her, looking into her honey colored eyes.

“But-”

“I don’t wanna hear it.” He stopped her. “You are the best thing that has ever happened to me, and if I had to go another month of chasing you around to simply look in my direction then I will. I know I’m not the best guy, but you have made me realize that I will do whatever it takes for us to stay together.” Billy’s eyes softened as he looked at her. Phoebe's once tired looking eyes became wide while staring at Billy as he spoke. No guy has ever said something like that to her. Yeah, she knows she’s weirded Billy out before but he still stayed with her.

“Billy” She spoke softly, a smile making its way onto her face. He smiled back at her, taking her hand into his on the table.

“Order 37!” Was shouted out, to which brought the couple out of their trance.

Once the food was picked up. The couple made their way to the camaro to go home. The drive was silent, it was warm and comfortable. Just the quiet tone of one of Billy’s rock tapes playing from the window. As Phoebe was looking out the window to the dark outside of the night. She saw the glimmer of snow, she gasped as her eyes lit up. Even though it had snowed for the past few weeks, with every new snowfall Phoebe got excited. She loved the cold weather unlike her boyfriend. Billy heard her small gasp from beside him; he made a small glance over to her to see she was staring out the window. He just smiled at her expression, he couldn’t have asked for anyone better. The couple usually didn’t express too much emotion in front of others, not too heavy on pda other than a quickie in the janitor's closet. But the nights such as these were Billy could get away from his house to go home with her. To spend the night cuddling and watching trash movies they can make fun of. It was pure bliss for Billy, He loved it He loved her.

The car came to a stop in Phoebe’s driveway. With her parents out of the house for the next few days that meant more time with Billy, and being able to eat in the living room. The food was set out on the coffee table, blankets were prepped, movies prepped to be watched, and Billy’s side ready for Phoebe to cuddle into. The chosen pick from the Family Video tonight were American Ninja, obviously Billy, and Smooth Talk, clearly picked out by Phoebe, the two had very distinct tastes. The two watched and ate with glee for being in the other mere presence. In the middle of one of the movies Billy pauses it out of nowhere.

“Heey?” Phoebe said in confusion to his action.

Billy turned to her, now her side is cold. “Why did you ask me that question at the restaurant tonight?” Billy was curious. He wanted to make sure no one said anything to her and so she wasn’t in her head.

“I just- I just started thinking about the types of girls you went after before you got with me.” She said, “And I felt like I was a downgrade.” Hearing this broke his heart. “ I’m noy like Tammy, Tina, or Nancy… It's stupid but I can’t help but feel insecure sometimes. You were told about me from people that judged me and still chose me after everything. I just don’t get it sometimes.”

“Like I said before, you are unlike any girl I have ever been with, and I love it. I love you.” Billy said.

“You said the L word.” Phoebe giggled at him. Billy’s smile broke out after you said that.

“What are you gonna punish me?” He teased. In response Phoebe places her soft lips onto Hargroves. It felt like a puzzle being completed when they kissed. Phoebe became more forward and started to slowly push Billy back until he was on his back while she was sitting on him still kissing on her couch. The kiss slowed and the two started to pull away. Looking at one another for a moment. Until a sly smirk appeared on Billy’s face.

“I should say the L word more often if that’s my punishment.” He flirted. Phoebe just laughed at him then pulled him up right to continue where they left off. In the movie obviously. Billy played the movie and Phoebe snuggled back into his side.

“Just so you know.” Phoebe started. “I love you too.” Billy smiled and kissed the top of her head. The night was perfect, as always.

Hope you enjoyed! Like always if you have feed back I would love to hear it.

if you wanna see anything specifically with Billy and Phoebe just request or comment.

Thank you, love ya bookies!

#billy hargrove #billy hargrove x oc #billy hargrove x female #stranger things #fanfiction #billy hargove imagine #steve harrington #nancy wheeler #robin buckley #dustin henderson #eddie munson #billy hargrove fluff #billy hargrove imagine #billy hargrove fanfiction #80’s #lucas sinclair #max mayfield #stranger things billy

39 notes · View notes

shy-mama · 22 days

Text

The Dream

There once was a girl who grew up with a family of immigrants, the youngest out of the bunch with memories of blue and confusion. Since young shed looked up at the sky and make wishes, having complete blind fate it would happen. The young girl was beaten by life backstab after backstab, her audacious smile was gone. Turned into a edgy pre teen who was just trying to take it day by day. The dreams were still there but wrong encounters with the wrong people cut the strings of the balloons and made them float into space. Then there was nothing, nothing but love, so she clung onto the little she could conjure up, and there was so very little so she turned desperate. Drugs and visions, visions and drugs. visions inside and out. The love that she had summoned started to consume her until she couldn’t even tell who she was or what, or why. Then after several dark nights of the soul. She sat up. she remembered the wishes she made to the sky. In fact she didn’t just remember, she had always remembered, this time she FELT those wishes once again. She was going to do what she wanted to do because what the hell with it. What she desired was what will make her happy and thats all that mattered to her at that point. She wrote down a list with the cadence of a kindergartner. Become model aka prettiest girl in the world, get cute and popular boyfriend, travel. And for the first time in a long time all of these seemed possible. She just had to get the ball rolling. That day she had completely gained trust in herself. She started with the weight loss she did a juice cleanse which jumpstarted her weight loss. Then got a juicer and would mostly drink juices. Then she applied for about 10 modeling agencies and was accepted to the one she was most hoping for. She knew she would get in since this is what she had been destined to do since she was 3. Thankfully she had the right encounters with the right people and quickly moved up in the modeling world. Her skills and looks were also a testament to that. She was traveling the country and world doing photoshoots and runways and drinking hot chocolate in a cafe with Bella Hadid. First part of her list complete. She had a fashion award ceremony to attend to in Seoul, south Korea. She had been informed from her agent that she would be winning a big award. After she had received her award. Thats when she met the 2nd part of her list. Boy A, he approached her and was visibly in awe of her. The two love birds hit it off immediacy and started dating. Things were moving fast between them, they said its because they feel like they knew each other in several past lives. After a few months they had been caught on one of their outings together. The photos were posted all over and boy A’s fans were outraged, some were sad, and some were happy for him. The blogs were all talking about boy A’s mystery girl lover. She was thriving with this, reading all the jealous and shocked comments had her vibrating she had craved this. It was one of the reasons she wanted a popular and cute boyfriend anyway. Oh and for item 3 on the list that was already accomplished. Because of work she had to travel frequently, she had also gone on friend trips and lover trips as well.

So the sum of the story is just sit up, you don't have to stand up just start somewhere. Make a list of what you want and I mean truly want. If thats hard for you to find out try to pretend a genie came and gave you three wishes. Then break down those wishes and how to practically get there. honestly along as you start on wish 1 the other wishes will come rolling easily to you, why? Because the universe loves when we have desire. Because love and desire is the creators one true will. And also drill into your head that its impossible to fail. Because the universe has a billion safety nets on every side of you. And if you are like me and really hate this universe talk just remember the universe is closer then you think. Ps the universe is you!, yes when all those manifesters on YouTube are talking about trust in the universe they mean trust in yourself. I don't want to get into the whole quantum physics, astronomy, and spirituality logic of it but I had a hard time trusting the uni. Primarily because it was a source outside myself. Then I learned that universe is literally inside everyone and myself and things got some much easily to understand.I know that at the end of the day if no ones got me I got me. Ive only been alive for 22 years but I, myself, has brought me, myself, out of some much chaos and darkness. So I really have no other choice but to believe in myself and make shit happen.

19 notes · View notes

filmtv2022 · 9 months

Text

In the Bleak Midwinter: Chapter 3

Previous Chapter Next Chapter

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Thomas Shelby x Reader

Chapter Synopsis: Grief and addiction push Y/N further away from reality. Relying on a nasty mix of alcohol and opium, Y/N leans into a dangerous way to cope with the hurt while clinging to the past. Seeing her slip, Tommy finds himself pushed to get closer than he'd like in an attempt to protect her from herself.

Warning: drug & alcohol abuse + mentions of suicide + language

Timeframe & Canon Info: This story is taking place in what would be part of season five of Peaky Blinders. With that being said, we are not fully sticking to canon here. For the purpose of this story, Lizzie is not married to Tommy and does not play a significant role in his life. He has not remarried since Grace's death. Additionally, the only child Thomas has is Charlie.

A/N: Okay, so it was really fun exploring the softer side of Tommy Shelby in this chapter. I look forward to doing more of that throughout this story. I hope you all are enjoying this story so far, and I'm beyond grateful to those who are reading. As always, please forgive me for any and all mistakes.

** If you would like to be tagged in future updates, please comment and let me know.

The sun sat low in the sky as Tommy made his way to 725 Watery Lane. This had become his norm over the past few days. Each evening, he’d make his way to you, relieving the men he’d posted outside your door to keep his own watch through the night. Every attempt made by himself and others to see you, to speak with you, had gone unanswered. But he was undeterred, this drive to keep you safe went far beyond some wartime promise he’d made to William Butler. It stirred something deep in his soul, and that terrified him.

But there, despite that fear, he would sit, perched on a rickety wooden chair, clinging to every small sound of life that spilled out into the hall. Only in the dead of night, as exhaustion consumed him would the need for rest pull him under. This night was no different from the rest. Having replaced Johnny Dogs for the midnight shift, he settled in for the long haul.

…

The constant presence of the Peaky Boys went almost entirely unnoticed as the days blurred one into the next. The movement of time was marked only by the changing of light outside the window. Occasional voices could be heard in the hall, but they were garbled in your mind as you coped with the pain in the one way you knew how. Delirium dragged you away leaving the world blurry and out of focus.

With a weak hand, you blindly reached for whatever you could find perched on the nightstand. The whiskey and Laudanum you’d brought was always there in its place when you needed it, but that was about to change. Pulling the cork, you touched the rim to your lips and tipped it back, but nothing came. It was empty. Panic began to rise creating a flush of heat over your skin. Swinging your legs off the side of the bed, you rested in that position for a moment before trying to stand, but there was no strength left in your limbs. Taking a couple of staggering steps, your body crumpled into a heap on the floor. The thump of your frame hitting the wooden boards shook your bones, knocking the wind from your lungs. Rolling onto your back, you stared blankly up at the ceiling. Silent tears flooded down your cheeks as you welcomed the blackness that clouded your vision.

…

Woken suddenly from a dead sleep, Tommy struggled to bring his surroundings into focus. An eerie quiet had settled in the air and it was that hollow void that sent anxiety ripping down his spine. Pushing up from the chair, he swiftly pulled the key from his pocket. The low snick of the lock coming unlatched was drowned out by the heavy pull of his breaths.

Throwing it open, his eyes immediately fell on your slumped figure. Obscenities laced with your names, flowed in rapid succession as quick strides brought him to your side, where he dropped to his knees. His fingers reached for your neck to feel for a pulse. The clock seemed to stop as he waited for any sign of life beneath your tender flesh. After what felt like an eternity, a featherlight thrum beat against his fingertips marking that he hadn’t failed to keep you here, to keep you safe.

Letting go of the air in his lungs, Tommy adjusted his position so that he was leaning on the side of the bed with you in between his strong thighs, your back to his chest. Sweat collected in the delicate cotton of your pajamas, the collar stained dark from the perspiration. With one arm wrapped around your waist, he used the other to brush away the hair stuck to your neck, he watched the rise and fall of your chest. The rhythm was slow giving him something to focus on as he calmed himself. The smell of stale whiskey and sweat mixed with the faint remnants of your sweet perfume.

Resting his head back on the mattress, Tommy’s eyes drifted shut leaving him to concentrate on the feeling of you. Your muscles twitched in small jerks as the dreams returned. Mumbled whispers tumbled from your lips calling out to people who no longer walked this earth. One name, in particular, came to the surface over and over.

“William…” Even in your sleep, fresh tears spilled as the image of your husband alive and well remained to haunt you.

…

The early hours of the morning gave way to a new day. The gray hues of first light forced Tommy to move. Arthur would be by soon to relieve him of his watch, and the last thing he needed was for his brother to see you like this, exposed and broken on the floor.

Using his strength, Thomas scooped you into his arm. You stirred only slightly as he placed you on the bed, and covered you with a rough woolen blanket. Tracing over your features, he watched you for a moment before sweeping his fingertips along the rise of your cheek. An ache, deep and genuine, gripped his heart as he looked at you.

Heavy boot steps echoing down the hall broke the trance. Grabbing the bottle and flask from your nightstand, he forced himself to leave your side, but he didn’t get far. Arthur pressed into the room before his brother had a chance to make his exit.

“Oi, everythin’ all right?” the gravel in Arthur’s voice was heavier than usual, its severity matched the swath of blue under his eyes. Something that Tommy didn’t fail to notice.

“When she wakes up she going to be fuckin’ irate that I’ve taken her whiskey and her drugs. But under no circumstances are you to find her any, and if she tries to leave you stop her, understand?”

“But you’ve been giving-”

“I know, I was, but it's gone too far. I’ll be by later to collect her.”

“Collect? As in-”

“As in she’ll be comin’ to stay with me at Arrow House.”

“Right, so, I know you’re the boss here, Tommy, but is this really a good idea? With everythin’ goin’ on with Michael and Billy Boys?”

“I don’t care if it’s a fuckin’ good idea or not. I said she’s comin’ so she is, you hear me?”

“Loud and clear brother.”

…

Gruff voices at the end of your bed became clearer as the fog of unconsciousness lifted. The pounding of your head left you feeling off-kilter, your stomach rolled viciously forcing you to swallow the bile that rose in the back of your throat. Gingerly, you tried to sit up, but even this small amount of physical exertion drained you of everything you’d recouped during your rest. On instinct, you reached for the nightstand but found nothing. A weak groan fell from your lips, the sound pitiful and desperate. The figures standing nearby dropped their conversation as they saw your movement in their periphery. Arthur stood for a moment like a statue, his eyes focused on Tommy as he came to sit next to you, and gently dabbed away the sweat from your forehead. Mumbling something under his breath about giving the two of you a minute, the eldest Shelby left the room, shutting the door behind himself.

“Where is it? What the fuck did you do with it?” frustration bit at the words as you grappled with the dizziness that impeded your ability to focus.

“It’s gone.”

“Gone, what do you… what… no. No.” reaching for his wrist, you dug your fingernails into his skin as the anxiety came barreling in, “You can’t… I-I need-”

“You don’t fuckin’ need it, Y/N.”

“But I do. I need it to… I need to see…” closing your eyes, you turned your face away, your cheek pressed into the pillow. The back of your throat tightened with the strain of emotion.

“Hey, hey, look at me.” Tommy’s broad palm cupped your face, turning it gently to face him, “Open your eyes, and look at me.” He waited, thumb brushing over your skin.

“You see him, right? When you take it?” he paused just long enough to see the look of recognition, “I know you do, but he isn’t here.”

“He is, he has to be. I can feel him, his hands on me. I can hear them laughing too, in the other room.”

“Y/N, it isn’t real. I know it feels like is, but I promise you it isn’t. The truth is that no matter how much you take nothin’ is bringing them back. It’s dangerous to keep going like this.”

“I don’t care, I have to see them.”

“It’ll kill you, Y/N.”

“Would that be so bad? I’m tired Thomas, so fuckin’ tired.”

“You deserve a life, to be happy again. If not for yourself, for them, for their memory. Let me help you. You delivered the letter as he asked, now let me keep the promise I made… just like you kept yours.”

It was unfathomable that his man who you’d only met a few days ago would be willing to go to this length from someone as unworthy as yourself, but it was the desperation in his eyes that moved your soul.

“Okay. I’ll try… for them.”

With a sharp nod, Tommy removed his hands from your body, and an emptiness settled in your heart at the loss of his touch.

“I need you to get dressed, and pack your things.”

“Why? Where am I going?”

“Home, with me.”

“You don’t have to do that. I’ll be fine right here, I promise. Besides, I’m sure your wife won’t want a random woman flitting around the house.”

“That won’t be a problem.”

“I highly doubt that.”

“Doesn’t matter, I’ve already made up my mind. Now,” standing from the bed he lit himself a cigarette, “get yourself together. I’ll be downstairs with the car. My brother Arthur’s out in the hall. He’ll take your bag when you’re ready.”

…

Collecting your things and getting dressed took longer than usual. The past few days of overconsumption proved to have taken quite a toll on your body, but eventually, you were ready.

With suitcase in hand, you took a deep breath before turning the handle. The metal was cool in your palm as you yanked it open. Hearing the noise, Arthur turned around to face you.

“All set, Mrs. Butler?”

“I am, and you must be Arthur.”

“That’s right.”

“It’s nice to meet you, and please call me Y/N.”

“All right, Y/N. Let’s get goin’ then." He reached for your bag, which you willingly gave.

A clear sky hung above the tops of the buildings with only the smoke from the factories to taint the clarity. Arthur threw your bag in the back of a stunning motorcar parked out front before ushering you inside. Hopping into the passenger seat himself, Tommy was already behind the wheel. No more conversation was to be had as the three of you pulled away from Watery Lane.

Eventually, the bustle of the city gave way to rolling countryside. The air was infinitely cleaner and more palatable than what you’d been used to inhaling both in Birmingham and London. In the distance, a massive mansion came into view. Its scale and grandeur were apparent even from a mile off. The beauty only grew the closer you got.

Parking as near to the front stoop as he could, Tommy was out of the car and to your door before you even had the chance to think. Holding it open for you, he offered you a steadying hand while the other fell to the small of your back for extra support. A wave of warmth flooded across your body at his touch. Satisfied that you were not going to fall, he collected your suitcase and returned to your side, calling to his brother as he ushered you indoors.

“Dinner’s at 7:00, Arthur.”

“Got it, Tommy.” Shifting to the driver’s side, he started the engine and took off back down the drive leaving the two of you alone.

Meeting Thomas’ eyes, a wistful smile turned up the corner of your lips as you scanned over his features, “This doesn’t make any sense, I don’t even know you. Why are you doing this?”

Halting his steps, Tommy turned to face you, his strong hand still resting on the small of your back, the hypnotic blue of his eyes locked with your unyielding gaze “Because…” clearing his throat, “No one deserves to go through this alone.” He continued to speak as he led you into the massive home, “Now, let’s get you settled.”

...

Taglist:

@sadroses98

#thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby fic #thomas shelby x y/n #thomas shelby #tommy shelby x you #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby #peaky blinders #peaky blinders fanfiction

73 notes · View notes

Last Seen Blogs