#maybe a little too many lilacs

[coralinnii]

Can I ask for Vil, Took or Malleus (any of them, or multiple depending on how cool you are with it) when they find their s/O gives them cute handmade gifts? Baked treats, books, paintings and such. I completely understand if you can't get to this, but if you decide to take this up, It'll be really really cool! Thanks and have a great day!

‎‧₊˚✧Made with Love✧˚₊‧

↳ Reader S/O who made him handmade gifts

feat: Vil ❋ Rook ❋ Malleus genre: fluff note: no pronouns used with the reader, established relationships, nicknames were used for readers (spudling, mon tresor, dear, child of man), probably bad grammar and usage of French because of Rook,

To anyone who were wondering for my sudden MIA status…I got sick, like hella sick. I’m not the greatest at taking care of myself and apparently my body decided to teach me a lesson for that by leaving me down for the count for 2 weeks then giving me migraines if I spend even 20 minutes in front of a screen for another week. To be fair, I could have recovered quicker if I actually…rested and took care of myself but hey, lessons were learned.

I literally started this a month ago but now I need to relearn the characters because my brain can’t remember anything, so I’m sorry if it isn’t the greatest T_T

2.7K Followers Writing Event 2023

To say he was suspicious was an understatement. Vil was a man of routine and he could tell when something was amiss as the days went by. Little differences were of no cause of concern, but when his little spudling is just acting too skittish, the blond just couldn’t let it go.

At first, Vil was content with scolding you for the little bad habits you started. He caught you too many times hunching your neck and back, and the eyebags forming under your eyes were too concerning to him to ignore.

He had to physically hold in his gasp however, when you refused to come over to his dorm for a skincare date. He tried to be understanding when you claimed you had too much homework to come over, but he could do without Rook having to point out that he was sulking.

Yes Rook, Vil is very aware he could get early wrinkles.

Frustration turned to concern as Vil was quick to pick up that you were hiding something from him. Occasionally, he could see you quickly hiding something from his sight before smiling.

Insecurity soon struck him as alarming thoughts swirled about his mind. Was he the problem? Or is there a problem but he was too undependable to you to confide in?

Not one to beat around the bush, he approached you.

You were surprised that your lover requested to see you so suddenly. But, you thought the handsome blond sounded uncharacteristically solemn so you agreed, which led to you sitting in the lounge of your dorm/home.

Maybe you misread the tone of his voice, because the man before you certainly didn’t seem solemn. Sitting next to you on the sofa, Vil watched you silently with his arms crossed and a leg over another.

“So, Vil…how was your da-”

“I know you’re hiding something from me, spudling.”

From your flinching and awkward avoidance to meet his eyes, Vil’s suspicions were correct. Upon closer inspection, Vil spotted small cuts littered about the skin of your fingers. His lilac eyes softened somewhat, but he kept his voice stern.

“I admire you for working so hard for yourself,” Vil made it clear to you as his eyes gazed towards the small cuts on your fingers, “But, I hope I’m not someone so incompetent that you can’t rely on me, especially when you’re needlessly hurting yourself so.”

In a smooth motion, Vil raised his manicured hand towards your face, gently grazing your cheek to keep your attention to him. “So spudling, no more secrets…what has gotten you so busy and reckless?”

The gig is up, you supposed. Sighing, you asked for your blond beloved to wait as you quickly rushed to your room. Upon your return, there was something in your hands to which you nervously handed over to your upperclassman.

It was a soft ribbon with a charm attached to its end. The deep purple ribbon was embroidered with what seemed to be golden leaves attached to vines twisting and curling across the length of the ribbon. The charm was of a crown, a cheap trinket that was clearly inspired by the Fairest Queen.

“I know how hard you’ve been working for classes so I made you a ribbon bookmark, something you could use while you study or something.” you explained, a little embarrassed. “But I haven’t been getting the pattern right, so I couldn’t give you until I got it perfect.”

Vil has been gifting you so much, from customized skincare products of his creation to matching outfits that enhanced your beautiful form. But it’s not just fancy clothes and luxurious products. Vil worries for you, takes care of you, and helps you to see the potential in yourself and to strive for it.

He gave you so much, so you wanted to give him something in return. Something thoughtful, something that shows how much you cherish Vil. More than for his looks, more than for his fame.

“This didn’t turn out as well as I wanted, but I’m working hard so I can make a new one and get the embroidery just right,” you assured him as you reached for the bookmark. “So, please be patient with me.”

But, Vil kept your gift out of your reach. He examined your handiwork with such focus, taking note of the effort in every stitch. It was by no means the level of professional, but he could see how you thought about him. From the color of the ribbon and thread to resemble his honorable dorm, to the consideration of his dedication to his studies rather than his looks. Your gift told him that you saw not Vil Schoenheit the actor, but Vil your hardworking boyfriend.

Seeing your nervous expression, Vil chuckled as he finally spoke, the cute bookmark firmly in his grasp. “If this is for me, I believe It’s for me to decide if it’s acceptable.”

“I-I guess?”

“Good, because I’ve decided to keep this.” Closing the gap, Vil placed a kiss upon your face, teasingly close to your lips. With a confident smile, Vil took pleasure with your burning cheeks.

“Thank you for the gift, my cute spudling.”

If it wasn’t already clear to everyone, Rook’s primary love language are words of affirmation. You could sneeze and suddenly he has written a sonnet about how beautiful the cringling of your face was.

I’m only slightly exaggerating.

Rook is by no means afraid to show his admiration for anyone, least of all his beloved. All of his words and actions are all done without an expectation of getting something in return.

But lately, you have become a bit of an enigma to him. You would spend hours upon hours with him, smiling and capturing pictures of the two of you. Other times, you would swiftly leave back to your dorm, excusing it as needing to study but you would vehemently decline his offer to help you.

Don’t get him wrong, watching your concentrated gaze is gorgeous, the way your heartbeat steadies and letting out soft but longer exhales as though you’re making decisions secretly in your mind. Rook couldn’t help but wonder, what is it that captures your attention that has you gazing off away from him?

“Rook, can I visit you today?”

Oh my, it has been a while since you last requested such a thing. Partially because you both knew his Housewarden would have a fit if he wasn’t aware. But eventually, Vil gave you special permission, mostly because Rook would have found a way to either sneak you into his room or he might sneak in the middle of night to see you. Vil knew Rook would never have gotten caught but he’d rather let you stay than have the migraine of a vice-housewarden breaking curfew and ruining his beauty sleep.

“Oui, mon trésor. I would request approval from my Housewarden immediately.” Rook could never deny you of anything, especially if he means you could have more time to admire you in the comfort of his room.

When night fell and the two of you were alone, sitting on the hunter’s bed. You were nervously wringing the handles of the bag in your hand. Doubts filled your head as you wondered if the gift was even slightly capable of living up to your boyfriend’s expectations, regardless of how silly that sounded.

You knew that whatever you would give him, Rook would love and appreciate it with full sincerity. But, that doesn’t mean you weren’t nervous. The gift should be considerate, you thought. Something that shows the love you had for the eccentric blond and his odd… let’s say interests.

You looked to said odd man, who’s piercing green eyes caught your gaze. Rook noticed your nervousness and the mysterious bag but said nothing. Instead, he kindly waited for you as you calmed yourself, soothing you with gentle touches to your knee. The huntsman can be a lot to some, but he’s also patient and so supportive.

Finding your strength, you presented your gift to Rook. Curiously, Rook took what seemed to be a journal from your hands. It was only when he opened the book to see its content was he surprised.

Him. He saw him in a multitude of photographs that decorated the pages of the journal, lined with cute frames and drawings. Some photos were of moments he remembered, such as days where you visited him during his club, cute dates around the town, or simply just moments of serenity between the two of you.

Rook felt his cheeks flush as his eyes caught the little captions written near the photographs, dates and words written in your handwriting.

“My handsome mad scientist” “His dashing profile is so cool” “His warm arms around me ♡”

“I realized the last time I came to your room that you only had photos of other people” you had glimpses of the wall of photos that consist of people he admired the most, you included. “So, I wanted to give you a photo album of what I find beautiful…you.”

Your boyfriend scared you as the young blond suddenly stood up from the bed, eyes sparkling with excitement as he scanned through the pages filled with memories. “Mon tresor, this is absolutely exquisite! To think my beloved has been watching me with such an unwavering, loving gaze fuels a pleasurable delight within me. Oh, très bien!”

But Rook worriedly commented on something notable. “But, there are still pages left unfilled. Were our moments too few and rare to fill the album?”

“It wasn’t that.” you rubbed your hands as you felt the nerves return. “I was hoping that we could fill the last few pages together…like a couple.”

It was then the hunter kneeled before you, his hands reaching out to grasp yours as he looked into your eyes with a special loving gaze only shown to you. You couldn’t tell if you were captured in his devoted gaze or if it was Rook that felt compelled to hold you, to comply with each and every one of your wishes.

“You speak as though I would dare to deny my precious beloved. I’d be honoured to make more memories with you, now and far however long you will have me.”

With constant surveillance from his wards *coughSebekcough*, Malleus’ moments with you were rare but still meaningful. Some nights, Malleus would wander near your dorm, especially when he noticed the lights of your room, signifying you’re there and awake. And like always, you would open your doors for him with a sweet laugh and inviting smile.

But lately, Malleus has seen that your bedroom lights would be dimmed, and that you would take notice of his presence slower than usual. Once or twice would be of no concern to him. But, as it slowly became a habit, he began to worry.

He spoke of his concerns with Lilia, perhaps in the older fae’s experience he came across a similar predicament amongst humans.

Only for the veteran fae to be of no help, instead chuckling in amusement before giving his young dragon a cryptic comment “You will understand soon enough. My, how you are in for a treat~”

Malleus chose not to question further, nor did he question the odd coincidence that you asked him to visit you that very night.

“I don’t suppose there is a hidden agenda to your invitation, dear?” As Malleus made himself comfortable in your guest room, he noticed some changes since his last visit.

Firstly, the furniture were arranged to be more spaced out, although the TV was still quite close. Then, there were almost an absurdly large amount of pillows and blankets, to the point that some have started to pooled onto the floor.

“Hmm, you sound as though I’m being suspicious” you laughed good-naturedly, “But I do have a surprise for tonight.”

Coming from the kitchen, you pulled out a stacked fairly large, cold container. With Malleus’ keen senses, he could pick up a very subtle sweet scent mixed with a chilly sensation, and a familiar delight came to mind.

“Ice-cream?”

You nodded. “Made by yours truly. I asked Lilia if there was a particular flavour you like, but he said you weren’t really picky.”

Unceremoniously, you sat down next to the tall fae before handing him an ice-cream container. “I was trying out different recipes and ideas all week, tweaking it along the way.”

The results of your work appear to be a multitude of flavours with varying degrees of sweetness. From classics such as chocolate and vanilla to more subtle sweet flavours such as coffee and pistachio. Some were swirls of combinations with fruits or nuts, and some were flavours unique to his hometown, which he imagined were hard to procure.

“I may not be able to shower you in riches, or protect you like your knights…” you gave an embarrassed smile and gaze at your silent companion. “But I could at least make you something sweet, just so you could smile even a little.”

Behind your nonchalant smile, you do feel anxiety swirling as you worry your efforts pale in comparison to the luxuries your powerful boyfriend owns. Malleus is a fae of the highest standing and thus, his actions have more impact than the average man or fae.

But…he was your amazing boyfriend nonetheless, who smiled softly back at you.

“Thank you, child of man. Knowing the effort my beloved has done for me alone, I shall cherish this feeling for centuries to come.”

Your cheeks burned slightly over the sincerity, so you quickly diverted the conversation. “W-Well, just giving someone ice-cream would be too boring, so I thought we could spend the night watching bad rom-com movies while we eat. Call it a human custom of sorts.”

“Is it imperative that the movies must be bad?”

You shrugged “Not really, but it usually is.”

Setting the movie up, you returned to the makeshift nest of comfy blankets and pillows with Malleus sitting by you. The confused fae watched as you handed him a tub of handmade ice-cream and a spoon before picking a container for yourself, a strange feeling of intimacy unfamiliar to him…but not an unpleasant one.

#twisted wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland x reader #disney twisted wonderland #twst x reader #twst imagines #twst scenarios #twisted wonderland imagines #vil schoenheit #vil shoenheit x reader #vil x reader #rook hunt #twst rook x reader #rook x reader #rook hunt x reader #malleus draconia #malleus x reader

[buryustogether]

lilac - chapter 3

miguel o’hara x f!reader

summary: your boyfriend doesn’t have the time anymore. good thing both miguel o’hara and spiderman do.

wc: 5.2k

tags/warnings: domestic dispute, unhappy relationship, pining, mentions of kidnapping, mentions of violence, allusions to suicide, mentions of strip clubs

author’s note: got a lil carried away with my emotions for this one ngl

Your pink pen pressed harshly down on the science quiz you were grading, smearing a pit of the sparkly ink as the searing noise of an electric guitar being tuned submerged your little apartment from the floors to the ceilings. You glared up from beneath your brows, a predator chained just inches from her prey, as Ferris and his band of four barked and howled between themselves in your living room. From your perch at the tiny dining table, you watched them, your knuckles paling around your pen. They had moved the furniture around to make room for their equipment, shoved your couch, your armchair, your coffee table - fuck, even your television stand - against the walls so that they could spread out and practice for a gig the drummer had managed to score; probably by going down on the manager of the place, but you’d never say that out loud.

Unless they provoked you - which, with every ticking, prolonged minute that passed, you were getting closer and closer to your inclined tipping point.

Sniffing quietly, you shook your head and tried to go back to grading your quizzes. So far, your class had done a fairly good job. A few percentages below eighty, but not many. No matter what score they got, however, you were sure to place a sticker on the corner of the page. Of course, as you had expected, Gabriella O’Hara’s score was a perfect hundred. A small smile graced the corner of your lips. She was a bright kid, you’d give her that. While she needed a little extra help in mathematics from time to time, she practically excelled in every other subject. You scribbled out a little note praising her for a job well done before beginning to move on to your other papers.

From the living room, another glass-shattering, skin-crawling shriek was raised from Ferris’ guitar. You twitched in your seat, subtly raising your eyes to watch the band. Your boyfriend was downing his second beer of the day, despite it being barely eleven in the morning, and he had his feet propped up on some chick’s - the new keyboard player, because the last one stormed out of the group after realizing what a bunch of asswipes they were - and idly strummed a lazy medley on the taut strings of his guitar. It was hooked up to the speaker, so every note that he twanged out was amplified tenfold.

Downstairs, your neighbor knocked against their ceiling with a broom. Telling you all to shut the fuck up, no doubt.

Taking a deep breath, you put on your best smile - which looked more like a grimace, actually - and cleared your throat. “Babe,” you said tightly, drawing Ferris’ attention away from the keyboard player. He regarded you with a roll of his head and hand on the strings to stop the vibrations. “Maybe it’s time to pack it up. You’ve been…” You hesitated. “Practicing for almost two hours now. Why don’t you save some of the music for the paying customers tomorrow instead of the neighbors?”

To your chagrin, like he was dumping fuel across the little flame that had flickered to life in your chest, he shrugged a shoulder and went back to his guitar and the girl across from him. “We’ll leave when we’re done,” he replied nonchalantly, eyes never meeting yours again. “Still got some more songs to run through.”

“Yeah,” you scoffed and went back to your work. “You look real fucking busy.”

“If you’re so tired of listening to us,” your boyfriend snapped suddenly, “why don’t you find somewhere else to go? This is my place too, you know.” He exhaled a venomous sigh and downed another swig from his bottle. “Always on my ass.”

By now, the rest of the apartment had gone silent. The other band members glanced between the pair of you, movements suddenly stiff with tension they had no idea how to release. It felt like no matter what they did, it would light the fuse on either one of you.

Feeling your cheeks heat and your palms become sticky with embarrassment, you swallowed thick and nodded your head slowly. Then you stood, began to gather your papers, and stuffed them into your purse.

“Hey,” said the band’s drummer, a pudgy guy with thick lenses that had, actually, always been nice to you despite their leader’s obvious intentions, “if you need us to clear out, we can. We can find another place to set up where we’re not bothering you.”

You released a short huff, sounding more akin to a snarl than anything else. It seemed your judgment in men really was shit; you’d chosen the wrong fucking band member. “That’s okay,” you spat as you tugged on your shoes and checked that you had your keys. The drummer’s face flashed with guilt and you felt bad for a moment, but then your eyes flickered to where Ferris had wandered into the kitchen to fetch himself another drink. Like a raging wildfire, the flames in your ribcage roared and seared your insides, making them feel like you’d implode upon yourself if you stayed here - in your own damn home - any longer. “I’ll go somewhere else.”

With that you exited your apartment and slammed the door behind you, not stopping your frantic escape from Ferris’ snarls and rolling eyes until you hit the street down below. Before you on the road, traffic moved at a sluggish pace. Horns blared and street lights flickered. Shop fronts gleamed in the sunlight and bells over doors jingled. As you took a long, deep inhale that granted your lungs a wave of fresh air and your eyes with a certain wetness in the corners, you realized your crumbling relationship with your boyfriend was such a trivial little thing in this city. Nothing was going to stop, halt in its tracks, just because your world was falling apart.

Life went on. There was nothing you could do to stop that.

Plopping yourself down on the bus stop bench, you placed your head in your hands and tried to keep yourself from crying anymore. You couldn’t let anyone else see you cry, because what if they did, and they turned out to be like Ferris? Told you that you were being dramatic, that you needed to pull yourself together and be a girl? Fuck, you didn’t think you could handle someone else telling you that. You didn’t need anyone else against you; it already felt like the entire world was.

What you needed, desperately, terribly, pleadingly, was someone else in your corner.

In your pocket, your phone chimed with an incoming text. Wiping away the tears sitting heavy against your lids, you pulled it out. It was an unknown number; your cyber security app had blurred the message, waiting until you accepted to see it. You swiped on the blurred screen, then clicked open the message.

Hi, it’s Miguel O’Hara. I hate to cross any lines here, but Gabriella is having a hard time understanding the homework assigned for this weekend. I tried to help, but it’s beyond me. Some sorry excuse for a geneticist I am, right? Anyway, I was texting to ask if you’d be able to meet us somewhere today and help Bri. I was thinking the public library? We’re going to be headed to the park afterward for soccer practice… you’re welcome to come along. She’s eager to show you a new trick she learned yesterday. Again, excuse my forwardness. We understand if you’re not available. :)

You sniffled slightly, rereading the text over and over again, trying to stuff down the fluttering feeling arising past the flames inside you. Your head snapped up and you were on your feet in less than a moment, hailing the first taxi that passed you. When you climbed inside, the driver asked you where to.

“The public library,” you said, and managed a smile at him in the mirror.

Half an hour later, you sat at a desk in the middle of the study section of the New York Public Library, already having drawn out fresh sketches and examples of the mathematics homework you had assigned for this weekend. Your foot bounced with anticipation under the table, and you found yourself constantly glancing over your shoulder at the wide, arched doorway that let into the private section.

You’d tutored students outside of class before, so you shouldn’t have been so excited. You’d met with them in diners and cheap restaurants, outdoor pavilions when the weather allowed, hell - you’d even sat with them outside their cramped apartment buildings on overturned milk crates and used cardboard as a back for the worksheets while their parents were busy working three jobs and balancing five other kids on their hips at the same time. You weren’t one to judge; you knew how hard it was out here for some people. You were a teacher; it was your job to love and nurture and teach your kids, no matter who they were or where they came from.

So you shouldn’t have been this excited to tutor one of your students. Even if she did have a smoking hot dad.

Small, quick-paced footsteps - like thunderclaps along the ground in the nearly-silent room - pricked your ears and turned your attention to the doorway. A wide, easy grin broke across your lips as you spied Gabriella breaking away from her father’s side to rush toward you and your table. In her arms she carried a wrapped bouquet of flowers. When she reached where you had risen from your seat, she pressed her face into your belly in lieu of a hug.

“Hi, Miss Y/N,” she said, rather loudly, then presented the flowers like they were sterling silver encrusted with diamonds and jewels unimaginable. An ear-to-ear smile stretched from one of her ears to the other. “These are for you.”

Miguel arrived behind her, a backpack slung over his shoulder and a gentle grin of greeting gracing his beautiful face. He tilted his head at you for a moment, then ruffled his daughter’s hair and said, “What are they for?”

“A thank you,” Gabriella rushed to say as you accepted the bouquet. “For coming to help me.”

You tried to squash the butterflies that fluttered through your stomach when he smiled at you, instead pushing your focus to the flowers clutched to your chest. They were fresh blooms, a collection filled with pinks and purples and a few yellows here and there. “Well, thank you so much, sweetheart,” you said as she rounded the table to go and sit by her father. “They’re beautiful.” You took your seat again and carefully set the gift beside your purse. “And you don’t have to thank me. I was already out today anyhow, so it wasn’t any trouble.”

“Really?” said Miguel. He pulled the bag from over his shoulder and gave it to Gabriella for her to begin pulling her schoolwork out. He quirked one of his thick brows, his sad-looking eyes meeting yours. Jolts of excitement, and pleasure, and adoration went sprawling down your spine all at once, like back to back shocks of raw, untamed electricity. “I figured you would have been staying in during a tourist weekend like this.”

You wanted so badly to tell him just what you were doing out, why you weren’t at home enjoying your two days of free time between your two jobs - one that required every bit of your soul and heart during the day, and another that required every bit of your body during the night. You wanted horrendously to confide in him the troubles plaguing you like an illness only he could cure you from, wanted him to secure those thick, sinewy arms of his around your form and hold you tight, assure you in that husky tone that everything would be alright.

But instead, all you said was, “Can’t let tourists drive us locals from our stomping grounds, can we, Mister O’Hara?”

The corner of his mouth quirked upwards, his eyes stuck upon your form even after you’d pulled your attention to the worksheet Gabriella had pulled out.

For a long while, the three of you sat at that table in the library. You taught Gabriella the maths lesson over again as many times as she needed it, helped her with the more challenging problems on the worksheet, then made up a few on the spot to give her for the extra practice. You even tilted around your textbook so that Miguel could see it and gave him a rundown of the next few lessons so that he could help her the following week, should she need it.

It was perhaps an hour or so later when you sat back in your chair, watching as your student set to work on the few practice problems you’d given her. You shut your eyes for a moment, exhaling a long breath, and allowing your brain to shut off for a moment. You’d succeeding in getting Ferris and his stupid, stubborn fucking attitude off your mind for a time, but now you were faced with the realization that sometime today, you’d have to go back home. You’d have to see him again, most likely get into another argument that would lead to one of you sleeping on the couch the next couple evenings.

Most likely you.

“How are you doing?” came Miguel’s voice from across the table.

You thought for a moment he was speaking to his daughter, looking over her work, but when no reply came, you opened your eyes and realized he was talking to you. You blinked a few times, watching as he smirked kindly and crossed his arms over the table. Fuck, he was so easy to look at. He was wearing a t-shirt against the sunny day today, giving you a generous view of the muscles in his arms. They sloped down to his elbows, and further still to wrists wrapped in Gabriella-made friendship bracelets, to large, wide hands that were callused at the fingers and bruised at the knuckles. You wondered briefly if he boxed during his workouts.

Sliding your hand up your face, you gave him a tired smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes. Despite only speaking to one another a few minutes every time at pick up and drop off, you felt you could talk to him better than even the girls at your nighttime job. “I’m alright,” you said, then added, “Just… tired, is all. Lots on my plate right now. Work, stuff at home, the whole ‘masked vigilante swinging around the city’ thing. Well… you know how it is.”

It was not the last detail that seemed to faze him. It was the second. “Is everything okay?” he asked, tilting his head to the side slightly, like that of a curious puppy. The lines beneath his eyes deepened a bit, the untamed hair atop his head slipped to his temple. “Sorry if I’m overstepping a boundary, or anything like that. I just -”

“No, you’re alright.” You reached out to finger at a petal on one of the flowers in the bouquet, fondly brushing the delicate thing as if it would disintegrate if you handled it any rougher. His eyes followed your movements deftly. “And, everything’s… okay. Sort of… okay.” You sighed and pulled away from the flower, instead opting to rub at your temples. “Just drives me out sometimes, you know? Everything… happening in those walls. Sometimes it gets too much.”

“You’re never out on the streets, are you?” Suddenly his gaze had turned serious and stony, his mouth set into a hard line across his chiseled expression.

You swallowed thick, feeling the dropped baritone of his voice hit the bottom of your belly and head south to your core. You shifted slightly in your seat, crossing your legs over one another to mask the subtle movement. “No, never.” Forcing yourself to chuckle, you dropped a hand to the desk. “You don’t have to worry about me, Mister O’Hara. I’m just fine.”

Before you realized what was happening, Miguel had reached out to brush his long, thick fingers over your knuckles. Your skin was suddenly alight with a blaze you didn’t even know existed. He leaned forward slightly across the table, lowering his voice so that only you heard it in the cage between your ribs. “It’s alright to ask for help, you know,” he murmured quietly. You were caught in his gaze, unable to pull yourself away. “If you ever need something, some place to stay… our door is open.”

Your tongue had ceased its ability to work, your heart its ability to beat properly. You could only stare at him, wide-eyed, as he settled back in his chair. Miguel O’Hara had just offered you his home. Fuck - he knew. He had to have known. Maybe he could see it in your eyes, hear it in your voice when you whispered; maybe it trembled too much. Or maybe he could just sense it, feel it from the bottomless pit in your soul screaming out for someone to pull it back into the daylight.

Just when you trusted yourself to speak again, both your and Miguel’s phones alerted at the same time. Across the study section, other devices went off, as well. Simultaneously, you pulled out your cells and read the messages scrawled across the screens.

“Jesus,” you muttered upon scanning the message. A kidnapping had just taken place not a block from the library. Car details and plate numbers were attached, along with an urging for anyone with information to call the authorities. “This city gets worse every day.”

Miguel glanced up at your words, hesitated, then looked down at Gabriella. She was still busy with her work, tongue stuck out gently between her pink lips. You sensed him tense from across the table.

“...Miguel?” you asked, tentative to use his first name. “Is everything okay?”

After a short, brief moment, he seemed to make up his mind about something. He stood from his chair so abruptly that it squealed softly against the tile floor, throwing the backpack over his shoulder and rounding the table. “Excuse me just a second,” he said, already heading toward the doorway. “I have to make a call. Ten minutes, tops.” Then he was gone, jogging too quickly and hurriedly to be making a phone call - or so you thought. You wanted direly to follow him, see what he was doing, but you couldn’t. You had your student to take care of.

Inhaling shortly, you turned to Gabriella only to find her staring at the doorway her father had disappeared through. You were quick to find something to change the subject. “These flowers are so pretty,” you told her and nudged the bouquet slightly. She met your eyes, your gentle smile, and it seemed Miguel’s sudden absence was wiped from her mind. So was the inner workings of a nine year old.

“I got to pick them out,” she said proudly, then went back to her worksheet. “But it was Daddy’s idea to get them for you.”

Your heart skipped a beat in your chest. You did your best to maintain your smile, trying not to grasp at your chest and stop the oncoming heart attack making its way through your systems. It had been Miguel to get the flowers? “Yeah?” you said in a small voice.

Oblivious to your strained tone and the excited bouncing of your leg under the table, the little girl nodded and hummed. “Uh-huh. He like-likes you. He told me so.”

Holy fucking goddamn son of a bitch.

You cleared your throat because you knew if you talked about this any longer, you would explode into a little cloud of confetti. Then you’d never even get to see him again, look at him in this new light because fuck, was it a new light. It was a new light you could dance under, twirl and sing and jump under, because no one was going to judge you anymore, and even better, now you could invite him to be under it with you. And you knew you just might have a chance of him saying yes.

And fuck, what a dance that would be.

“Are you excited for the field trip to Alchemax on Tuesday?” you asked her, recalling the months it had taken Washington Elementary’s principal to get permission to bring classes there. She had insisted it was an important place for them to visit, considering all the work they were doing as of late. You guessed your suggestion for a trip to the zoo had been vetoed. “Your dad works there. Maybe we’ll see him. You can brag to all your friends that he’s a fancy scientist.”

“Maybe,” she said, scratching out a wrong answer on her paper. “He works on the seventh floor. I’ve seen his work badge thing. We probably won’t be able to go up there.”

“Here’s hoping we can,” you said to yourself beneath your breath.

Ten minutes passed since Miguel’s sudden disappearance, and then another. Thirty minutes was just approaching, as was the beginnings of sundown, before you sensed him approaching you from behind. Turning in your chair, the first thing you noticed was that he was out of breath, sweating at his temples and down his neck slightly. God, he looked good like that. But then your rational side kicked in. Had he been running somewhere?

“I think that’s enough homework for today,” he said as he reached the table and ruffled Gabriella’s hair again. She batted his hand away, but nonetheless began to pack up her things. As she did so, he switched his gaze to yours, tilting his head in that way he did. “We’re going to head to the park, kick a ball around for a while. You’re welcome to join us, if you like.”

Numbly, because now that you knew he not only liked you, but like-liked you, you heard yourself accept and follow them out the doors of the library and onto the street. The deep purple sky felt a bit brighter than before, and the steps you took together, side by side, seemed a little closer than necessary. The sidewalks were cramped, sure, but not enough so that your hands needed to brush every few seconds. Not enough so that your shoulders bumped when you stepped off curbs to cross roads.

The park was quiet this time of day, occupied only by a few elderly couples leaning against walking canes and teenagers out past their curfews sprawled out on benches making out like they knew they were going to die tomorrow.

How long had it been since you had kissed Ferris? The saddest part of you knew that you couldn’t recall.

For hours, you sat on the sweet-smelling grass of the park’s lawn and watched Miguel and Gabriella scrimmage, kicking around a ball worn by years of scuff marks and green stains from fields. The breeze blew their matching hair this way and that, the dying sunlight illuminated their identical smiles as they round about one another in only a way a parent and a child could know one another. You cheered when either scored a goal. You laughed when they called one another names. And when they urged you to come join, even though the night was throwing itself over the sky and the stars were beginning to wink down at the park, you got to your feet and played.

You realized, through your aching laughter and the grass stains on your knees, that you hadn’t been this happy in a very, very long time.

That night, after you had wished Miguel and Gabriella a goodnight and walked home, after you had found Ferris crashed out in bed and the dishes still in the fucking sink, you found yourself sitting on the rooftop of your apartment building. It wasn’t quite silent up here, not with the helicopter chopping in the distance, or the occasional honk of a car down below, or the dog barking three stories down, but it was better than facing the quiet of your own home. You knew you would go mad in between those damned four walls, listening to your boyfriend snore and the clock in the kitchen tick and the floorboard creak when you walked to the bathroom.

You couldn’t face the quiet, not after the wonderful, deafening, blaring joy of this afternoon.

You let your legs dangle off the edge of the rooftop, sitting back on your hands and staring at the glaring screen of your phone. Your thumb ached slightly from scrolling through anything and everything you could find to keep yourself distracted. The newest clean energy replacement from Alchemax. The latest from politics. The child that had been kidnapped this afternoon, now home and safe, thanks to Spiderman snatching the kid from the backseat before plowing the speeding car with the kidnapper into a metal gate.

There came the soft, muted noise of a weight landing on the power box on the rooftop behind you, and you whipped around to find a familiar - but no less startling - red and blue figure sitting perched on the metal edge. Spiderman tilted his head at you, balanced on the balls of his feet despite the hulking frame of his muscles.

“Just came to check up on you after the other day,” he said through the mask. His eye lenses moved as his eyes roamed your figure. “Didn’t know you were this far gone.”

Clicking your phone off anxiously, feeling your heart thunder in your ears, you gave a little laugh and looked down at the drop beneath your feet. “I think if I was ready to end it,” you joked in return, “I’d go for something a little less traumatizing for pedestrians.”

Spiderman was still for a moment. Then he extended his wrist, and a string of web shot across the rooftop to stick to the space on the lip beside you. He used it to yank himself across the tarmac of the roof, landing again on the balls of his feet on the edge. He shifted himself, resting his forearms overink his thighs, and turned his masked gaze to the city before you both. Golden lights twinkled from skyscrapers and apartments and office buildings, creating a constellation of life between windows. The night air was crisper up here - as crisp as it could get, what with the smog from arsonist fires and churning factories and gas emissions - and the stars seemed to shine just a touch brighter.

“So… how are you doing?” the vigilante asked, keeping his gaze on New York. “After the robbery, I mean. Something like that, it can… stay with you.”

There came a fluttering in your heart. But rather than express such a sensation, because you had every right to be wary about giving yourself away anymore, you said, “It wouldn’t be the first thing like that to happen to me. And I’m sure it won’t be the last.” You lifted a hand to the star-lit city, crowded to the rim with life and hatred and love. “We’re in New York. What more can you expect from a city like this?”

For a long while, neither of you said anything more. It was strange being so close to the man everyone had been talking about for the couple weeks he’d been active - so close you could lean right over and pull that mask off. But you kept your distance.

Spiderman took a breath and said, “Couldn’t sleep?”

You shrugged a shoulder. “As if I typically sleep at this time anyway.” Then you turned to face him again, locking your ankles together over the edge of the rooftop. The breeze swayed your hair back and forth, like you were suspended underwater. The tension in your lungs certainly felt that way. “Did you enjoy the show the other night?”

He was still for a moment. For two. Then he met your gaze through his mask, his eye lenses narrowing. Even through the cover that hid his face, the heat of his eyes scorched holes through you. “What do you mean?” he asked.

Feeling slightly bolder than you had a moment ago, you lolled your head at him. “You know what I mean.” You sniffed, leaning back on your hands. “Did you follow me? Or was it just a coincidence that Spiderman showed up to my club the day he saved my ass?”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“...Sure.” You felt a flutter of embarrassment within you, of doubt and guilt. What if that hadn’t been Spiderman that night at The Menagerie? What if it was some other guy, with some other scar on his collarbone, and you had gotten it all wrong? Despite your sudden worry, you refused to let your confidence waver. “So… do you make it a habit of checking up on every person you help?”

For the first time, you watched and listened as he cracked a smile and chuckled. The lenses over his eyes narrowed as his cheeks rose and his mouth spread into a smirk. You watched the bit of mask over his lips stretch. “You got me there,” he drawled in that low, husky tone of his that made you cross your legs a bit tighter, squeeze your thighs tighter. “Just… couldn’t really get you off my mind. You’ve got courage, saying no to that guy. That’s admirable.”

You felt your cheeks flush. Spiderman? Calling you brave? What an ironic sense of humor the universe had.

“I guess someone has to stand up and say no,” you murmured into the breeze.

“Yeah. Someone has to.”

Moments turned into seconds, and those turned into minutes. You almost wished you could stay like this forever; here, on the rooftop with Spiderman, with the breeze rustling your hair and the car horns beeping and the rest of the world forgotten.

But all too soon, it was over.

Spiderman rose to his full height in a seamless transition, turning his head to face the street away from you. “Should get back now,” he said, then switched his gaze down to you. You wondered, behind that mask, what color his eyes were. “Sure you’re not going to jump?”

You felt yourself smile. “Promise, Spiderman.” You watched as he nodded his head, then prepared to catapult himself off the building and swing onto the next one. Before he could, however, you called out. “And hey,” you said, drawing his attention, “if you ever drop by the club again, ask for the Monarch.”

He stared at you for the longest moment. Then he turned, stepped off the lip of the rooftop, and disappeared.

You didn’t bother leaning over, watching him spring a web from his wrist to flip through the air and parade down the street above the cars and streetlights. Instead you looked back to the city’s skyline far above yourself, silhouettes of buildings framed by a rich violet horizon.

Perhaps one day, you would see what it looked like without all this smog and the army of dark clouds hanging over it.

But for now, you were content with watching it darken until it was nothing but black and purple.

tags: @mooomeadows @twentysomethingwereyote @screamforyani @fangirlreice7 @axdjelx @ornamentalnecromancy @faust-pda @ilikethemoon28 @mrm-pachypoda @wadafrick @natthernandez @bakgoktski @soupsexsunsalutationsss @roxannarichie @lovagirlxxx @soggyeyeballsss @yoyoyoyoyo55555 @sophipet @quantii @lavnderluv @cookiezxx @euphorica @its-a-polyglot @nicalysm @maxi-ride @exzidss @crappwr0m @femme-is-dead

(strike through means blog could not be tagged)

#miguel o’hara smut #miguel o’hara #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara x you #miguel o’hara x y/n #atsv miguel o’hara #miguel o’hara atsv #atsv #across the spider verse spoilers #atsv x reader #atsv miguel #miguel atsv #spiderman atsv #spiderman 2099

[hsllfirescoopsreblogs]

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

「 ✦ logan howlett ✦ 」

╰┈➤ 18+ none of these stories belong to me! this is a masterlist of all logan howlett stories i’ve read and reblogged! just thought it would be nice to have them all in one spot! (if your fic is on here and you wish not to be, please let me know!) some will have summaries if provided <3

╭┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈╮

➤ as it was by @ichorai

✗ you first met logan as weapon x, wiped clean of any memory of his past life. he had nearly killed you then. and now, almost two years later, he’s pressing kisses over the very same scars his adamantium claws had inflicted.

➤ blast from the past by @lune-hime

➤ a wolverines heartache by @imaginesforfandom

✗ On two separate occasions, both Y/N and Logan find jealousy within their friendship.

➤ feral by @angelltheninth

➤ worked up by @loganbcrnes

✗ logan breaks the bed

➤ anything by @woodolly

✗ Almost everyone fears Logan but Logan only fears you. His wife that happens to be pretty mad at him.

➤ @lilac-mushroom

✗ i need you baby

⑅ When you found out that mutants were being chased and attacked, you couldn't stand the thought of Logan, an old friend of yours, being hurt. Upon arrival at the place he was staying at, you found him beaten up and hurting, his healing powers slowed down. Deciding to take care of him, you couldn't ignore the closeness and strong sexual tension felt between you, just like old times. It wouldn't be bad to give in to it... right?

✗ above the clouds

⑅ Flying over to Atlanta for a mission with the X-Men, you sat next to Logan on the plane. But when his hand sneaked to caress the top of your thigh, you were faced with having to decide between sneaking off with him to the bathroom and leaving Logan painfully hard for rest of the flight. Maybe if you tried to be quiet...

➤ apologies by @jbreenr

⑅The Wolverine's presence in your life took a turn you did not expect.

➤ @buckylattes

✗ two wolves, one bunny

⑅ Logan and Bucky have had their eyes on you for a little bit now, and you can’t stand to wait any longer for them to finally make a move. So you make a move of your own and finally, you all get what you’ve been wanting.

✗ next door neighbor

⑅ Your next door neighbor, Logan, has been trying to get your attention for a while now, but he fears that he’s taken the whole situation the wrong way. Will you ever give him a chance?

✗ possessive

⑅ Logan is always very possessive of you, his girl, but you can’t really be mad at him even if you try.

➤ @buckyownsmylife

✗ untangle me

⑅ The one where once it becomes clear that Logan is your alpha, he’s the one left pining

✗ first burn

⑅ The one where Logan is so crazy to make sure that everyone knows you’re his, that he fucks you in front of everyone.

➤ prom by @loving-barnes

➤ touch me like nobody else does by @galatially

✗ you called and i came, the history between us too broad to ignore; when he showed up on your doorstep five years after he disappeared in the middle of the night, logan howlett decided to clear the air.

➤ in love with the wolverine by @ellana-ravenwood

➤ @hannibals-favourite-meal

✗ sunshine and flowers

⑅ Logan has had a great many loves in his long life and he’s over it. He doesn’t want to lose anyone else yet somehow, the annoying and very much younger art teacher at Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters, wormed her way into his heart.

✗ the way back home

⑅ After months of being apart from each other, he’s finally back in your arms

✗ worst possible decision

⑅How could Logan be stupid enough to fall for the little sister of an overprotective metal controlling mutant? As it turns out, very easily.

➤ body swap by @make-me-imagine

✗ reader and wolverine get body swapped, and the reader just so happened to be on their period when it happens + them having to deal with each others mutations.

➤ wolverine x reader by @carry-on-wayward-sun

➤ @wolfdeamonghoul

✗ it should have been me pt2

⑅ Bucky and you had a good relationship, until he felt like didn’t need you anymore and so he breaks up with you and starts dating Natasha soon after. It only takes seeing you walking down the aisle, saying your ‘i dos’ to someone else for him to realize his mistake.

✗ what a tease

⑅ you tease Logan too much that he begins to pleasure himself

✗ sexting

➤ @holylulusworld

✗ breed out

⑅ you woke the animal in wolverine.

✗ bed sharing

⑅ “Can you do ‘bed-sharing’ with Wolverine? He’s grumpy and you believe he doesn’t like you, but he can’t stop himself from sniffing at your neck and it can be smutty or just fluff. You decide.”

✗ cranky

⑅ Your boyfriend is cranky in the morning.

➤ @kgficz

✗ newbie

⑅ Logan had arrived at the X Mansion only a few days ago, finding it difficult to adjust. One night when he can’t fall asleep, he finds you awake in the kitchen and strikes up a conversation.

✗ back in time

⑅ Set in Days of Future Past; Logan has lost everything, he has lost you. He’s finally been sent back in time to change the future. How can he keep his head straight when he travels back and sees a younger you?

➤ logan training by @imyourbratzdoll

✗logan and the reader end up training in another... more fulfilling way.

➤ labels by @mlmxreader

✗ you and Logan discuss your relationship over a beer.

➤ the last goodbye by @trickstersteve

➤ just a dance by @lipstickandvibranium

✗ Logan wasn’t fond of parties, but he was fond of her.

➤ i guess you didn’t cheat, but… by @youreobsessedwithtoomanyfandoms

•MASTERLIST

•XMEN MASTERLIST

hopefully all links work, let me know if not <3

last updated april 16, 2024

#logan howlett #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett smut #logan howlett fluff #logan howlett angst #logan howlett oneshot #wolverine #wolverine x reader #x-men #x men x reader #logan howlett imagine #wolverine imagine #logan x reader #james howlett x reader #james howlett #james howlett imagine

[torasplanet]

❝𝙔𝙀𝘼𝙍 𝙊𝙁 𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝘿𝙍𝘼𝙂𝙊𝙉𝙎.ᐟ❞

K. RYUGUJI + F. READER + T. MITSUYA

𝙨𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙮 ; its the year of the dragon and a celebration occurs for taka and kenny from their personal red envelope;)

𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜 ; smut, final timeline, kenny is ur bf (srry emma..), threesome, praise, dp(double penetration), anal, petnames(baby, babydoll), reader wears dress, unprotected sex (i really need to write protected damn😭), spit as lube, idk pretty vanilla and skin color not mentioned

marls notes 2 u(*´▽｀*) ; ik this is so late from new years but i got this idea from a tiktok like five days after new yrs haha so this is a lunar new yr special since i celebrate !!

It was a new year, new feelings, new resolutions, new everything! And of course, the entirety of your friend group just had to throw a big ass party with you being one of the many that planned it and of course, the one to make it actually look good and not just a bunch of non-matching decorations being thrown across the room like Mikey and Baji were going to.

Well, Mitsuya was a part of that too and you two worked together to decide the perfect color coordination for the party which is where these new feelings came in. See, Mitsuya has always been attractive; you could never deny that, no one could but something just changed.

He was looking better than usual but you couldn’t find anything about his appearance that physically changed to make him look better. It was like he started glowing for some unusual reason and the glow made him prettier. Of course, you felt bad for finding him so attractive recently because you were dating Draken, his best friend.

However, when thinking about it, you started to feel a little less awful for your feelings because you remembered that Draken had talked about wanting a threesome multiple times but never came up with someone to do it with. He thought Mikey wouldn’t do it and it’s not like he exactly wanted him to because Mikey tended to just sleep around instead of getting in relationships so…it’s self-explanatory. Takemichi obviously couldn't do it, he’s married and Chifuyu damn sure would not, he has too much respect for Draken and you to even be comfortable in that conversation.

Anyone else was off the table for him and for you but neither of you ever considered Mitsuya. Maybe if you brought him up or hinted toward that, Draken might say yes.

The third person in this threesome being Mitsuya made so much sense. You knew him so well and you guys were close, he and draken were extremely close even sharing a tattoo and he was such a gentleman meaning he’d treat you with the utmost respect which was a big thing Draken was worried about. He was also single so there was a chance he’d say yes.

The only problem was that…you just didn’t know how to approach your boyfriend about all of this. So you spent the whole party talking and not saying a word about this while also sneaking peeks at Mitsuya throughout the night and with the more you were around Senju (she kept passing her blunt to you and doing shots with you), the more you got sloppy with the looks.

When Izana suggested that they take this party to Ran and Rindou’s club, you were so quick to agree as you wanted to party but yet, you were at the bar staring at Mitsuya while babysitting a cup that Senju had given you to hold before running off which you were taking small sips at because she obviously wasn’t coming back being too busy throwing ass on some guy.

You stared at the lilac-haired male as he chatted with Baji, your thighs clutching close together at the sight of him but when you felt eyes on you causing you to shift your gaze, you got incredibly embarrassed making eye contact with Draken especially when he grinned at you.

Turning your head and instead focusing on the liquid in the cup. Your face heated up when you heard his loud footsteps even over the loud music hoping he didn’t see that but oh he did. Draken had seen all of the glances you gave to Mitsuya no matter if they were careless or an attempt at being secretive and he kind of knew what you were thinking. He hoped he knew and it wasn’t just a guess that happened to be wrong.

His long arm draped around your shoulder and he pulled your body to his “Hey baby, you okay?” Draken asked. The strong smell of his signature cologne filled your nose while you avoided eye contact with him at all costs so he wouldn’t see the embarrassment and neediness in your eyes “Yeah…just waiting for Senju.” You muttered hoping he wouldn’t pick up on everything and just the weirdness.

Draken grabbed your chin and turned your head to face him with ease making your thighs quake. He stared at you for a second before grinning. He had discovered your thoughts.

“Looks like she’s gon’ be a while baby. Wanna come over there with me?” Draken asked laughing gesturing his head over to the spot in the club he was just at with Mikey and Baji but you just looked away from his eyes laughing a little with him while shaking your head but you didn’t say anything so the conversation went silent as soon as the laughter stopped.

Was this the time to ask Draken about it? Or were you just high and a little drunk? Well, you were definitely that but what if it was both? Nothing would happen…Draken would never judge you especially not about something like this that you’ve talked about before so what’s the harm? He already saw the want in your eyes.

You glanced back over at Mitsuya before looking back up at Draken “You and Takashi have the same tattoo, right?” Yeah, Draken definitely knew what you were thinking now that you had said that.

You knew the answer to that question and you were just asking that to bring up the topic of Mitsuya nonchalantly “Yeah, baby you know that.” Draken said with another chuckle coming from his mouth dropping his hand from your chin as you shuffled in place as if there were a fire in your pants. Your gaze was on your feet which were strained from the straps of your heels then you looked up at Draken through your eyelashes still keeping your head down.

“So, you guys doing anything special after this? I mean, it’s the year of the dragon now…” You said knowing that if Mitsuya had overheard it, he would’ve commented that the Chinese Lunar Year isn’t celebrated until February but it was basically the same. He would know what you mean. “No, you had an idea or somethin’?” The black-haired male asked leaning down to get closer to you as if he couldn’t hear you over the loud music but he could, he just wanted to hear whatever you said loud and clear. Shrugging your shoulders as you put your lips to the cup sipping at it minorly just to conceal your face from your boyfriend more “Maybe a party.” You muttered into the cup but Draken heard you and grinned. Draken understood not only what you were talking about but what your mindset was. Bringing up such a nasty topic as a gift for the Lunar New Year while wearing a red dress.

You were going to be the red envelope given to the two dragons. Whether you did it on purpose or not didn’t matter because it still meant the same and Draken liked it.

His hand went to the small of your back and began to rub over it gently “Gonna plan it for me, baby?” You nodded almost immediately putting the cup down so you could look at draken better to make sure he truly got what you were getting at. “Think Mitsuya would like that?” You nod. “Let’s ask him,” Draken said before leaning up and turning to where Mitsuya was talking with Izana. You leaned closer to your boyfriend watching Mitsuya as he did. Draken called him over and you nearly smiled at how Mitsuya’s head turned side to side like a deer before a smile crawled onto his pink lips once he spotted Draken.

Mitsuya walked over to the two of you after excusing himself from the conversation “Baby, why don’t you tell Mitsuya what you told me?” Draken said glancing down at you and then back at his best friend whose lavender gaze traveled to your form waiting for you to talk. “Well…I thought that since you and Kenny both have dragon tattoos, you both should have a party for the new lunar year.” You said as loud as you could manage without anyone out of the conversation hearing. Mitsuya’s eyes showed intrigue and a bit of confusion.

He picked up on your demeanor. How you looked at him, the way you leaned into Draken with your legs pressed against each other. Mitsuya couldn’t describe it at all but he just knew…something was going on with you but he wasn’t sure what it was just yet. You pushed yourself off Draken and then trodded over to the black and purple-haired male. You pressed your hand on his right temple, running your hands through his hair “Yours is on this side isn’t it?” You questioned blinking at Mitsuya who grinned at your actions. Mitsuya looked toward Draken as if asking if this was alright or not but when he saw the identical grin on his friend’s face, he knew that this was okay. More than okay.

“Yeah.” Mitsuya replied simply and you smiled at him before going to sip at your cup once more but Mitsuya’s hand went to the cup preventing you from drinking the liquid inside of the cup “Think you’ve had enough princess. We want you to at least stay standing.” The man said with a small chuckle and Draken laughed too but he was different. Mitsuyas was a laugh to lighten the mood despite that not being needed whilst Draken’s was malicious as if there was a hidden dirty joke in that sentence. There wasn’t but it could’ve been.

Draken’s hand snaked down to your bottom just letting his large palm rest there. “Well, we want you standing before the party.”

You and the two guys wasted no time at all hoping in Draken’s car and going to your shared apartment. They didn’t want their girl to sit there being so needy all night, did they? “Ah, Kenny.” You moaned into Draken’s ear as his cock stretched you out but he wasn’t moving. It bothered you so much but you’d get what you wanted just as soon as Mitsuya did.

“Don’t forget about me, princess,” Mitsuya said coming up from behind you and placing his cold hands on your bare shoulders while his chest pressed against your back, you whimpered at his touch but nodded. One of Mitsuya’s hands wandered down to your cunt which was being split open by Draken’s fat cock and he began to draw circles onto your clit making your back arch away from Mitsuya and Draken’s large hands held onto your torso to stop you from collapsing onto him “Ever fucked her in here?” Mitsuya asked bringing his other hand down to gently grope at your ass.

“Nah, she’s too sensitive for that,” Draken said pecking your lips lightly as you moaned submissively in a low voice and Mitsuya beamed delivering a light slap to your clit before allowing Draken’s fingers to replace his “Yeah, you’ll probably split her in half. I’ll be gentle don’t worry.” Mitsuya cooed into your ear before pressing a kiss to the shell of your ear making a shiver run down your spine. You didn’t respond and just whined again pressing your butt against his pelvis.

Mitsuya’s hands went to your ass and he spread your cheeks revealing your untouched hole. He spat on his fingers before rubbing it all over your whole and dipping his fingers inside making your body jolt. The tip of his rock-hard cock then pressed against the hole, he didn’t push it in but it just sat there pressing against it lightly. When he gently began to push inside; your whimpers grew louder “Sh, sh, sh…I got you, princess.” He muttered soothingly as Draken moved his hips just a bit to try and distract you from the pain of being used in a different hole. Draken has always wanted to fuck you there but you could barely keep yourself together with him inside of your pussy; always complaining about how he was splitting you open when not even his whole cock was pushed inside of you. He knew that he couldn’t do anal with you because he didn’t want to see you cry but Mitsuya was just a bit smaller than him and less girthy so it’d hurt less if it were him. It’d also get you more comfortable with someone in there so then he could try.

Everyone’s winning with this night. It was…just going to take you a little pain for you to get your trophy.

Draken brought his other hand up to your face cupping your cheek as tears began to prick at your eyes “It’s okay, just relax.” He told you running his thumbprint over your cheek after brushing away the tears from your eyes “‘M trying…just so full.” You muttered feeling Mitsuya push in more and more until he couldn’t and bottomed out. He pressed gentle kisses behind your ear “Wanna adjust or want me to move?” He knew it’d be best for you to just sit there for a bit and get used to the feeling but he wanted to ask you first, it was your body after all. This is why Draken liked the idea of Mitsuya being the one to join the two of you. He was considerate of how other people felt whether or not he knew better than them. So kind…

“Mitsuya asked you a question baby,” Draken said as you tried to find your words, your brain already turning to mush. “I…I wanna move.” You muttered letting out a breath as Draken rubbed away the tears that were threatening to spill out of your eyes. Mitsuya’s chest pressed against your back as his hands moved to wander all over your body, gently brushing over your tits and his fingertips tickling your neck until they found their place on your pelvis. Mitsuya slowly began to move in and out of your ass that was getting extremely tight around him, he hissed as he rose from your skin making you shudder from the new angle. “Relax for me, baby,” Draken said continuing to circle your clit, going a bit faster so you could loosen up around Mitsuya.

“Ha…” You mewled as Mitsuya’s subtle movements made you grind against Draken who was moving his hips around. You sighed as you loosened around Mitsuya finally allowing him to take a breath, he swore you were going to end up cutting his dick off. Mitsuya’s pace slowly grew faster as his eyes fixated on your back and how it arched because of the penetration and he grinned, reaching his hand to run his fingers down your spine making your back curve into a deeper half-moon.

“Kenny…move please.” You mumbled to your black-haired boyfriend as your nails dug into his bare shoulders “Gimmie a kiss first.” Draken said with a playful smile on his face, you pouted at his demand letting out small whimpers because he wasn’t giving you what you wanted “Be a good girl, babydoll.” Mitsuya whispered into your ear and you let out small hopeless moans at that before pressing your lips to your boyfriends who swallowed your mewls and moans. As you and Draken kissed messily, he grabbed onto your torso, his hands were just above Mitsuya’s skinnier and smaller ones, and he began to thrust up into you hitting your cervix. Mitsuya’s hand that was once on your back snuck its way up to the front of your neck and he wrapped his fingers around it as you breathed heavily.

Mitsuya’s hips slapped into your ass as his pace sped up, his rhythm matched Draken’s but he was going faster. His pink lips put gentle smooches behind your ear to your cheek as you moaned in Draken’s mouth, unable to make your pathetic sounds audible. The kiss was incredibly sloppy. It was open-mouthed and drool was spilling from your mouths and running down your faces, suction noises and occasional moans were coming from the both of you which just made Mitsuya fuck into you harder enjoying how pretty you sounded. “You’re so filthy babydoll…so pretty too.” The purple-eyed male cooed to you, his eyes drifting over your shoulder to how Draken’s cock was easily disappearing and reappearing.

Draken’s cock stretched you out like it always did as he continued to fuck up into you, moving his hips once again to change the angle so he could hit your g-spot. You felt every vein rubbing against the ridges of your fleshy walls as his mushroom tip rammed into your sweet spot “Feel so good ‘round me baby.” The Ryuguji male said breaking the kiss and watching you with lidded eyes as you bounced up and down with your tongue lolling out, his eyes shifted to his friend who was losing himself in the deep depths of your and his own pleasure.

“Such a nice gift…” Draken said grabbing at one of your tits roughly and your body trembled at his additional touch of pleasure “Taka! Feels so good, want more!” You shouted grabbing hold of the other boob that was being neglected and squeezing it tightly. Mitsuya would never say this, especially not to your face, hell he was even feeling bad thinking about it but you were such a slutty girl…he loved it though. You wanted so much more of him despite having two dicks being shoved inside of both your holes.

Draken grinned at his friend “Give ‘er what she wants, huh? She ain’t gonna stop begging until you do.” He said pinching your nipple making you shout “Kenny! Bein’ mean…” Your complaints were ignored as Mitsuya had a matching grin to his dragon twin. His fingers tightened around your neck and he began to rapidly fuck into your recently deflowered hole, his bony pelvis and hips were probably going to be bruised at the end of this. “Ugh! S-So good…!” You moaned uncontrollably as you felt your orgasm coming extremely quickly.

It was gonna hit you like a fucking bus. Coming out of nowhere and coming quickly.

“Ah! Cumming! ‘M cummin! Cum with me please, please, want it so bad!” Your moans were quick and all in one breath as your mouth opened into a wide ‘O’ releasing whorish and high-pitched moans “Go ahead, we’re right behind you.” Draken said with a strained grunt as his pace quicked, his rhythm still matched with his friend’s despite this. You let your orgasm come over you as you breathed heavily and sharply as if it was your last breath on earth and it truly felt like it.

You came all over Draken as you yelped and just like he said, he was right behind you, releasing himself all in your warm hole painting the plush walls in a translucent white liquid “Shit…can I cum in?” Mitsuya asked putting his forehead on your shoulder while rutting into your ass and you nodded with a hum tiredly, Mitsuya didn’t waste a single millisecond to burst into your ass copying draken’s actions in dirting your hole and making an absolute mess of it “Wanna stay inside for a little bit…Can I?” The male behind you asked and your heart fluttered at how kind he sounded, you nodded as you collapsed onto Draken’s chest all sweaty and fucked out.

Mitsuya was really the perfect person to be with you and Draken…you guys should do this more.

©torasplanet .ᐟ reblogs and likes are very appreciated! pls do not repost!!

#torasplanet.ᐟ #marls-fics.ᐟ #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers smut #draken smut #ken ryuuguji smut #ken ryuguji #draken tokyo revengers #draken x reader #ken ryuguji x reader #mitsuya x reader #mitsuya smut #takashi mitsuya #takashi mitsuya x reader #takashi mitsuya smut #◛⑅·˚kenny★ #◛⑅·˚♡taka-chan!! #lunar new year #twin dragonss

[elissanatok]

-𝐈 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃 𝐅𝐄𝐄𝐋 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐌𝐄

pairing: Aemond targaryen x velaryon! (strong!) reader

summary: Aemond has loved and secretly claimed you for himself since the day you were born. losing his eye changed him, but maybe it did not affect his feelings for you as much as he thought it had

warnings: english is not my first language, angst, fluff, shy reader, unclexniece, possesive aemond, everybody adores reader in this

wordcount:

might do more parts to this

let me know what you think!! reblogs, comments, likes, and feedback are highly appreciated <33

You and Aemond always had a complicated relationship. Growing up together there had been nothing he thought he could ever love more than you. He had always been possessive in a gentle way.

He loved to hug your smaller body until you smelled like him. He wanted to sleep with you, in the most innocent way a boy could think of. He wanted to twirl your brown locks in his fingers and see your eyes when you woke up. He loved to teach you all the things you didn't know yet. You were his and he was yours. That was the end of the story- to him. 

You had always been a shy girl. Your lilac eyes often looking at the ground instead of the people. Being with people stressed you sometimes and letting them near you even more. But you knew Aemond, he was family after all. And he had never, one day in his life, treated you like anything but the future queen - that you weren't. 

It had been a warm day, your red dress had felt entirely too warm. The hand holding Daemons had been sweating, making you rub it on the fabric of your clothes repeatedly. Still you were grinning up at him, giggling when he playfully shoved you again and again. He had never bothered treating you like anything but his own. You were his little sun. 

But not only he and Aemond thought of you highly. Your brothers loved you like they thought no one else ever could. They were always protecting you, always touching you in a comforting way - and the white haired prince hated it. 

He hated it when you were a little girl, and you only belonged to him in his mind and in the soft jokes of the royal family, who could see how taken the boy was with you, and he hated it years later, when you had returned to him.

Never had he thought a single look at you could still have this effect on him. He remembered the night things changed, when he lost his eye, when you left, crying and clawing at his Uncle's back, because you did not want things to change. That night you woke up to yelling in the halls. The sound of many voices frightened you, but you still followed them, hearing the names of your brothers and uncles. Your brown haired head glanced around the corner, your violet eyes searching for anybody you could cling to. But your eyes had fallen on the now one eyed prince instead. You gasped, tears already pooled in your eyes. “Come here little dragon.”Daemon called softly, but your feet took you straight to Aemond. He remembered how he turned his head away from you, from the look on your face that showed him you didn't understand anything. The next thing he remembered was the Queen coming at you with a knife. You screamed, trying to hide behind Aemond and Aegon.

You could see the regret on Alicents face the moment she realized she was going to hurt you. “Aemond.”, you cried after Aegon softly, quietly explained what had happened. The older prince looked ashamed, tired. But the younger prince, your Aemond wouldn't even look at you. And he regretted it shortly after, because he would not be able to look at you for a long time.

#aemond targaryen #aemond imagine #aemond x fem!reader #aemond fic #hotd #aegon ii targaryen x you #ewan mitchell #jacerys strong #aegon ii targaryen #aemond stannies #aemond x y/n #aemond smut #aemond x oc #aemond fanfiction #aemond x you

[the-orange-tabby-cat]

Wednesday

joel miller x fem!reader

Summary of the fic: For the last 5 years, every Wednesday you watched a handsome man walk by your street with a lilac bouquet in hands. Except he doesn't stroll on your street this Wednesday, he shows up at your grief support group. 🐾

read on AO3 | masterlist | previous chapter Warnings: No outbreak AU, Grief and its implications, Reader lost her mom, Reader's mom has a name (but no physical description), Group therapy, Grief support group, Parent grief, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Slow Burn, Slow Build, Fluff, No use of y/n Word count of the chapter: 3,7k

A/N: For the longest time I've thought "What if Joel lost Sarah anyway?" and this became the answer to this question. I have no clue about how big this series will be, but I do know I want to explore grief and loss with these two in the most delicate way possible. Hope you enjoy it 🐾

I. LILAC

Coffee. Sketchbook. Balcony. Five years of waking up early on Wednesdays, grabbing a cup of coffee, and sitting near the railings to wait for him. Like a clock, at 8 am sharp he appears by the street corner with a lilac bouquet under his arm. 

His strong profile will be the only thing in your vision for a few minutes as he walks by. You drew it so many times that you could do it with your eyes closed. The man will walk by at a steady pace without looking around (brows deeply furrowed in a “don’t fuck with me” kind of sign), focused on his way down the street.

Tall, dark hair and a patchy beard with a square jaw… He is dreamy, but also out of reach. Where is he going? Why the lilacs? Are they for a woman, his wife maybe? Every Wednesday at 8 am, never a minute late, both he and you.

As you took a sip of your coffee, you glanced over the watch marking 7:58 am, he would be here any minute. You prepared the table in expectancy, what outfit would he be wearing today? You hoped for the green shirt, but the blue one wouldn’t be as bad.

7:59 am. His hair is a little overgrown now, but you like the way his curls frame his face. The broadness of his shoulders and how tall he looks next to the other pedestrians. You aren’t sure of the color of his eyes from afar, maybe green or brown.

8:01 am and no signal of him. This is a first. Maybe you mistook the day of the week, check your phone, and… No, Wednesday still. You squirm in your seat, impatiently looking for him. 8:07 am, he never got so late. Should you keep waiting? You don’t even know his name.

At 8:30 am you give up. A wave of melancholy fills the air. Oh god, be for fucking real, are you really sad because a strange man and his stupid lilacs didn’t walk down your street?

“Don’t forget: 9 am at the gate”, you reread your grandpa's text. 

You couldn’t be able to forget it, but deep down wish you could avoid it. Cemeteries aren’t your thing, the constant reminder of the death surrounding you. However, they are Grandpa’s way of dealing with it and who are you to judge?

The sketchbook is opened at the last page you drew, with the man staring in front of him fully angered. How did you end up with over 200+ drawings of a man you never met? The doctor said finding a hobby would help and so you did: drawing. “You see what no one else sees”, your mom used to say and you decided to take a test. Too bad your eyes landed on a strange man walking down the street, holding on tightly to a lilac bouquet. Even worse he had been doing the same path for five years right in front of your balcony.  The only things in your sketchbook are his face, his hands, and the bouquet. This is your third one since you kept running out of pages.

As you put the sketchbook away, your mind drifted away to your mother’s (possible) commentary. “Don’t be silly, he will come by later, I’m sure something happened” and she, most likely, would be right. She was always right. 8:50 am and with your chest tightened from “talking” to her inside your mind, your feet landed at the cemetery’s gate.

“No flowers? Really? Who raised you, pigs?”, your grandpa said narrowing his eyes at you.

He, of course, was an impeccable mess in his hat, black coat, thin-framed glasses that gave him a Bond villainesque look. In his rugged hands a white rose bouquet, carefully made and held by.

“If I remember right, and I do remember it, we are talking about the same woman who said that flowers are for the living, not the dead.” He rolled his eyes in response but in good fun. “Why the flowers then?”

“My biggest mistake was to raise a woman a little too avant-garde, wasn’t it? C’mon, we don’t have the whole day,” he deep sighed while showing you the way. 

You knew the path, but your feet seemed to avoid getting there, that’s why you followed Grandpa’s steps in the hope of not turning around and leave. It was a little ritualistic if you were honest: Grandpa would have some kind of gift in his hands that he would leave at the tombstone, and you would pretend to do not care as you deeply cared about it. She wasn’t there anymore, she hadn’t been for a long time.

Behind his glasses, you could see a lost man driven by grief. His hands shaking as he cleaned her name at the tombstone, the gaze avoiding yours. He would always wear black on cemetery days, as if the time never passed and it was the first visit yet.

“Want to go first?” He asked, you sighed in response. “Don’t know why I still ask.”

“It’s… Fine. You know she was a Buddhist, right? She believed in reincarnation. I feel a little silly talking to her,” you confessed while chewing the lip corners.

“Oh, trust me: I knew her the same amount as you, maybe even more. She was my daughter, for fuck’s sake.” Startled, you looked at him in shock at the rare occasion he would curse. Shit. “I’m not here because of her beliefs or lifestyle. Do you quote her inside your head? Because I do too, I too remember every small detail of her. I’m here because it’s how I tell myself she isn’t fully gone. So sorry if I’m too old-fashioned and feel like talking a few words at my daughter's tombstone with my grandaughter who, honestly? Could show a little more love towards her right now. I want to talk with her like we used to at the kitchen table on Sundays, I want to bring her flowers just like I did on her birthday and there is no Buddha, Allah, or a flying horse that can stop me. Now, can you open your fucking mouth and say something nice to your mom about your week?”

Silence took the space for a second before you simply replied with, “Better?”

“Yes, a lot. Thank you for asking, now go on, please.” He adjusted his hat and cleared his throat. You hummed, getting a little courage to look directly at the tombstone.

“Hum. I got a new couch last week, a velvety green one. A little too sexy, if I might, but you would probably say I need something sexy to attract someone even sexier. Am I rambling?” You asked, raising your eyes from the stone, but he made a motion for you to continue it. “Let me think, oh, the cat hunted a pigeon. It was somewhat disgusting because of the amount of feathers in my apartment…”

“Did the pigeon survive?” He asked, in his eyes with a slight curiosity.

“Yes, but by a thread. It was her cat, a little savage just like her!”

The conversation went on easily after it. Grandpa had found some old notebooks of your mom, including one with a cake recipe he would later send to you. You wouldn’t tell him, it did feel better not because you were speaking to her, but because you could watch him relax in his uptight perpetual state. In the blink of an eye, your mind wandered to the strange man and if he ever relaxed like that.

Grief is a strange thing. It took a little encouragement from your therapist and the need to move on, but you had started to go to weekly meetings of a grief support group at the local church (the only thing that made you enter that space). The first months were awkward, you went but avoided it at the same time. Slowly, it grew on you. Five years of not missing a single Wednesday, even on vacation.

Your grandpa tried once, but it just wasn’t for him. He didn’t want to move on or find a meaning for it, he needed to feel his grief as second skin. You needed it to stop suffocating you, to scream and shout about that weight in the hope of someone taking it from your back.

This Wednesday wasn’t any different. You entered the church's back door with some cookies in hand, even if you were well aware that most people couldn’t eat as they exposed their pain, it was more of a sweet gesture than a necessity. The white walls and the cross in front of you completed the scenario.

“Cookies? You never eat anything,” Henry questioned while taking a bite. His dark eyes staring suspiciously at you.

“My grandpa found an old cookie recipe from my mom. How does it taste?” You replied as you watched him bite. You couldn’t bear to try it first, too anxious about it.

“Your mom was definitely a writer, not a chef. Taste like an old sock.” His face contorted as he spat out the cookie. Well, you tried something new.

“Yeah, no wonder I survived out of Lucky Charms and BTLs.” Henry laughed as you let go of your shoulder’s tension a bit.

The grief support group had grown and shrunk over the years. Sometimes people would feel good enough to leave the support, those were the lucky ones: grief was a period of their life, not an everyday thing. In other cases, they would get too depressed and leave before making some actual change in their being. You, unfortunately, were addicted to bond with the pain part of it.

Well, you and them. Henry was the first you met, totally wrecked after losing his little brother, Sam, to leukemia. He almost left college due to the weight of grief but kept it together, you even went to his graduation a few years back. 

Tess came later. First, her kid died and then, in a stroke of bad luck, she found out she had a terminal disease that would, eventually, kill her. She wasn’t there to deal with the death of others, but her own. She was slowly dying and it was scary as shit. Not that you would know it from the outside, she had more strength (both physically and mentally) than most.

Frank was the group leader, conducting the discussion and creating the safe spaces. Everything you had said while hugging him, no matter how bad, never came back to hunt you. Which was odd on its own, but even odder considering his grumpy husband, Bill, was the exact opposite. Everything you did said in Bill’s direction came back to hunt you right after it came out of your mouth.

People come and go, but you stay there. Grabbing your regular place at the circle, putting the name tag on your shirt, and drinking some water just in case you cry. Except today you have someone new seated across you.

His strong nose and patchy beard hint someone you do know. His square jaw tensed up, brows deeply furrowed in a “don’t talk to me, I want to go home” that you could draw with eyes closed. The name tag reads “Joel”. You were right, his eyes are brown.

It feels weird to look at him without a pen and paper in hand, but it feels just right to see his features up close. Tess brings him coffee - black, you noticed - and gives him an eye silently saying “Don’t fuck it up”.

The meeting starts, Frank asks who is there for the first time. Joel and a woman, Hannah, raise their hands.

“It’s tradition to introduce ourselves at our first meeting. You don’t need to tell the details of why you are here or who you are, just simple information that people can distinguish you from the rest of the group.” Frank explains to a tired Joel, who sighs in response while Hannah overshares who she is.

Of course he doesn’t want to be there. Nobody wants to. You wish you could leave every time you cross the door, but know that the moment the meeting starts to develop you will want to continue in that deep state of pouring your heart out.

“I’m Joel, my friend Tess convinced me to come. That’s it.” He simply states, loud and straight. You catch Frank laughing.

“I’m afraid I’ll have to push you a little on it. Why did you accept to come here?” Joel furrows even deeper at the provocation.

“I didn’t. She trapped me.” Tess raises her very blonde eyebrows at him, who snaps. “You did trap me. Call me saying it was an emergency, I go to your house expecting the worst and you lock me inside there until the time to come here after I said I wouldn’t go to a grief support group.”

“See? He is an asshole, he needs this.” She answers Frank, making sure he gets her points. Your mom was right, something had happened to him.

“So, Joel, why are you here still?” Frank subtly asks.

“I beg your pardon?” Joel’s eyes are softer now, getting caught off guard. He doesn’t have any argument for it.

“Yes Joel, why are you still here? I’m not trapping you in this char, nobody is holding you down.” Tess retorts her mouth in his direction, that scoffs and looks around the room. When his eyes look into yours, you smile coyly unable to retain yourself.

“Sir, please continue.” Accepting defeat, Joel crosses his arms around his chest, fully ignoring Tess's triumphant smile.

“You are free to leave at any point, no need to tell us why. But I guarantee that if you stay, you might learn we aren’t that bad.” Frank nods in his direction, gaining a hard sigh. “Let’s start. Before every meeting, we say out loud the names of those who have gone to allow ourselves to think about them without shame, remorse, or guilt. You know the drill, Henry?”

“Sam,” Henry says firmly.

“Abigail,” you speak loudly.

Another silly little gesture, but you do allow yourself to think about her after it. Every single time. It’s almost as if the weight of her, the one that you carry around all day and pretend isn’t there suffocating you, comes to sit by you, not on you. 

“Teresa,” Tess points at her.

“Sarah,” Joel almost murmurs looking at the ground. His hands are fidgeting, his mind in another place. 

You have been there, you know how strange it is to say it for the first time out loud after a while, sounds forbidden and partly awkward. You aren’t supposed to say it to strangers, it’s sacred just for you, and yet, here you are saying it to whoever wants to share this pain with you.

You wonder if Sarah liked lilac flowers.

Some people speak about how they dealt with grief during the week until Frank asks you how the cemetery visit went. The group knows that meeting your grandpa there gives you a chill up the spine.

“I think I forget that he is allowed to grieve as he needs. I know all these little parts of her, how she lived her life. I’m quick to fight because she isn’t here to defend herself. I’m not even sure she would like for me to defend the memory of who she is… Sorry, was. Of who she was.” You swallow dryly, trying to ignore the miswording. “He bought her flowers. She always said that flowers were for the living, not the dead, and yet, he bought her a bouquet. I got frustrated, felt like he was trying to put her in a box of who he wanted her to be.

“He put me in my place quickly, even said fuck.” Henry makes some noise in surprise, you nod agreeing. “Exactly, it dawned on me: the flowers are for him, not for her. Just like his grief and how he needs to express it is only for himself, not for me to judge. I think he misses her more than he tells me. If I could go back in time, I would have implored him to cremate her and stop this nonsense of going to her grave, checking her tombstone, giving her damn flowers.”

“Maybe the flowers are his way of saying out loud that he cares too. She was his daughter before being your mother.” Joel speaks out loud, getting your full attention. His arms are still crossed, but now his eyes are lost in thought, almost as if he didn’t want you to hear it.

“Maybe. I just wish he allowed himself to stop pretending she is still here. I want to think of her without feeling guilty that she isn’t. He is too busy missing her to notice that I’m missing him.” You answer locking eyes with Joel, who chews the corners of his mouth, once again deep in thought.

“Maybe he doesn’t know how to do it, need help.” His voice soft, just like his eyes.

“Maybe.” You give in, feeling that Joel isn’t speaking about your grandpa. You swallow as you remember the lilacs.

The meeting runs smoothly. The group finishes by drinking coffee before parting ways. Frank is chatting by the corner with Joel, who is running a hand by the nape of his neck. Curiosity gets the best of you and, before you can stop, you question Tess.

“Who is Sarah?”

“A million-dollar question, huh?” She teases as she sips her sugary coffee. Henry looks between you two, waiting for a response. “You both haven’t heard from me, I’ll deny til death that I’ve ever said it. His daughter, she died a few years back. He hasn’t been the same since. That motherfucker goes to her grave every fucking Wednesday.”

“He visits her every Wednesday?” The number of drawings of Joel walking down your street early in the morning with a lilac bouquet makes more sense. His face, his fast speed, how he ignored everyone that walked by, how he never noticed you at your balcony.

“Yes, she died on a Wednesday, he relives that event every week since.”

Frank walks in your direction, Joel right behind him looking everywhere, except your face. If he only knew how much you have looked at his face before.

“I recall you haven’t been a mentor yet, right?” Frank starts and you nod, curious about where he is going. “Amazing! You’ll have your first newbie. Joel, you’re in good hands.”

He leaves before you can say anything, whether yes or no. Fuck. Joel is confused as well, still looking like he would rather leave. You open your mouth and go grab your phone.

“Sooooo… How was your first meeting?” Flipping through your phone until find your own number isn’t a good move to show that you are smart, trustful and worthy but right now you only want to avoid his brown eyes.

“Pass.” You blink at him. “I won’t keep chit-chatting. Cut to the chase.”

“Oh damn, I thought you had softened a little with time.” He fights the urge to roll his eyes and you smirk at him, reading him like a book. “I’ll give you my number in case you need someone to talk to. And yes, you can call me anytime you want to. And no, I won’t get your number. You come to me or I won’t come to you.”

That entertains him a little. It was the first rule of your mentor, she made sure you would look for her and not the other way so you could understand when and what triggered you. Joel just nods as he saves your contact.

“When did you first contact your mentor?” He questions, sounding genuine in his curiosity.

“Diet Coke, couldn’t drink.” The furrowed brows are back, so you continue. “My mom would mostly only drink Diet Coke, after she passed away I would buy canes just to open and hear the sizzling. Couldn’t drink otherwise would vomit from stress. It was really hot and I craved one, made that call and drank it.”

“And you drank the whole thing?” His soft eyes are back and you feel a little foolish for thinking that he could have green eyes, not when the dark brown suits him so much.

“Yes and vomited right away. Still, it was worth the shot.” You smile and for a fraction of time, he smiles too.

He doesn’t call right after and neither shows up at the grief support group. You still draw him, but from memory, the last time you watched as he strolled your street it was three months ago. Something about his grief seems too personal and you feel awkward invading that space, instead, every Wednesday at 8 am you find another thing to do. It isn’t as easy as it sounds, ignoring his handsome profile and the lilacs on his hands, but you allow his privacy. 

The only reminder of your favorite habit is the sketchbook at the table and the fresh lilacs decorating your balcony.

Time goes by slowly and too fast, the weight of your mom still at your back as the life surrounding you goes on its course. You almost forget about him until a Wednesday morning, 8 am sharp, your phone chimes and you pick up at the first beep.

“I can’t eat pancakes. I hate pancakes, but she loved it.” He softly says and you stop everything to listen.

“You made from scratch or store-bought?” You phrased it like it is an important question. He hums back on the phone.

“Store-bought, don’t know how to make the batch. She straight up bought only the mix.”

“Would you eat with her, despite not liking it?” Your hand slides the paper, creating his silhouette line after line.

“Yes.” He simply answered, as if it was the most common question in the world.

“What are you waiting for? Take a bite.” 

And he does. The chewing sound from the other side fills the phone, your hand keeps drawing him in his overgrown hair, almost as if you could see the scene right before your eyes.

“So, was it worthed?” You ask looking at the draw as he finishes his plate.

“Still taste disgusting.” He soft replies after a second, you snort and he laughs. The sound is the most delicious thing you’ve ever heard. next chapter

#joel miller #tlou fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller x original character #joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x you #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal fanfic #the last of us #the last of us hbo #wednesday series

[mrsnancywheeler]

enchanted // finnick odair x f. reader

based off this request

summary: after winning your games you're thrust into a new scene of capitol luxury and parties. in the midst of the gowns, and masquerade masks you meet someone who you instantly feel sparks go off for, victor finnick odair.

masterlist

warnings: idk how I feel about this one, first meeting, allusions to trafficking and Capitol issues, alcohol consumption, reader is a little tipsy, first meeting, kind of innocent!reader, fear of being lead on, unedited, no use of y/n

1.4k words

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

You were grateful for the masks, unless someone studied hard enough they wouldn't know it was you. It hadn't been that long since your Victory, but you'd already been so hounded by people, forced to go to so many balls that any way you could avoid the constant congratulations you were immensely thankful for. Besides you were still in constant awe at the Capitol luxuries, drinking some bubbly drink that made your brain pleasantly fuzzy as you looked at the dazzling chandeliers.

“You must be our new Victor." The voice startled you and you turned to see who it belonged to. He had an aura of confidence even though his shirt was so unbuttoned that it was basically falling off, which would have mortified you. The mask he wore had starfish on it which could be a Capitol fashion statement, but his outfit wasn't gaudy enough for that. So one of the District 4 Victors, maybe? Your brain felt too light to try and think of their names.

“How’d you know that?” You murmured, taking another sip of the fizzy drink.

"The Drusus’ host three annual high-end parties, including one for each victor, so this one. We're all used to, well, all of this." He was smirking, gesturing to the larger than life decor.

“Oh." You hoped it wasn't that obvious to everyone else, although your face had been plastered on screens all across Panem so recently you doubted how much the mask really obscured. He grabbed one of the small delicacies laying on the table and chuckled.

“You match some of the decor too, sweetheart.” The tablecloths were a light purple accompanied with bouquets of lilacs, bellflowers, and statice, you felt your face heating up. Your dress was in fact a complimentary purple as well as your mask.

“My little sister mentioned it was a color I liked, in one of those final tributes left interviews and I guess it's stuck." Your voice is quieter than you'd anticipated, but he seems to hear you just fine. His smugness for no apparent reason should make you bristle, but something about him makes you want to melt into the ground.

He takes a step towards you, face closer than anyone’s has ever been, taking a slow bite of the pastry he's been holding. “Well it certainly is your color." If you hadn't felt like your skin was burning in embarrassment before, it definitely was now.

You gulped, trying to clear your throat, “Um, thank you." No one ever talked to you like this and it felt like he knew that, so was teasing you for it. A stranger was teasing you for your naivete at all of this and you were helplessly letting him. Maybe someone has talked to you like this before, but never with as much magnetism as he had.

“Once you pass glass three, that stuff is bound to make you sick." His hand brushed your fingers, tapping the glass.

You just nodded slowly, "I know.” Another sip was needed to handle the butterflies in your stomach, how terrible was it, to be this knotted up on a man who you didn't know the slightest. To let whatever he was exuding that had never affected you before now slip away, the glass slid back up to your lips. His eyes felt like they were staring into the deepest parts of you which just made you want to drink more.

You nearly dropped the glass when someone began yelling about fireworks. You'd still been trying to get rid of the jumpiness you'd felt since the arena. “Come on." He offers his arm to you and you stare at him for a second, “They're for you." You decide there's no point in trying to reason your feelings right now, your brain is too fuzzy, and it's the Capitol, nothing seems to make sense here anyways.

It shocks you how warm his arm is for someone who's nearly shirtless, he leads you out to the crowded balcony and his arm really is a life saver when you stumble over your own feet. “Thank you!" You're laughing at your own misstep and he follows right along."I'm sorry."

His laughter subsides and even in your misty state you swear a look of pity crosses his eyes. He leans over slightly, mouth so close it could kiss your ear, “They're gonna eat you up, sweetheart, don't let them." The whisper has your brain trying to race to understand, when there's no way you'll be able to reach a conclusion.

“What are fireworks?" You eventually ask, it feels like a stupid question, but things are awkward now which you're desperate to escape. You don't know who he is, or why he's acting the way he is, but you know you don't want him to think you're awkward. His smug smirk is back and that chuckle that makes your heart feel like it'll hop right out of your chest.

“Aren't you in for a treat? Never seen fireworks before, stunned by the chandelier, at this rate you'll never get bored, everything will keep on impressing you.” A loud pop crackles through the air and your legs instantly try to start moving before you remind yourself to stay put. You're safe now, there is no more danger, just that of the charming man making you swoon. That danger isn't helped when he puts his hands over your ears. "Should've warned you about that one, sweetheart.” You know that your fefe must be burning to the touch since it's how you feel.

The pop explodes into much louder noises and then fractures of purple light are flying in the sky, the guests surrounding you cheering for the bursts. They're beautiful, the way the colors contrast the sky is truly enchanting. The rest of the show is equally as dazzling and by the time his hands pull away from you it feels more unnatural to be facing the night air.

“So, are you in fact, stunned?" You nod dumbly, maybe he is right and you should've quit drinking because you feel like such a fool right now. “I hate to go, but I have people waiting on me." He announced and you feel further embarrassment.

“Of course, sorry, I didn't mean to keep you from them." You glance at the floor, but his fingers are tilting your head back up and you can swear the electric sparks are in his touch.

“If anything, they're keeping me away from you." He has to be doing this on purpose, he doesn't know you, not really, but he's finding some sick pleasure in making your stomach twist. He goes to take a step away muttering another sorry, he's lifted your hand so delicately that you barely even notice until he's pressing a quick kiss to it.

“Wait-" He pauses, looking at you expectantly with that smirk. “Um, I- I don't even know your name?"

His laugh is like the perfect melody to your ears, “You haven't figured it out by now?"

You sheepishly shake you head, lifting the glass as an indicator, “Sorry, my brain is so airy right now, like I'm in the clouds." He takes it from your hands and swiftly the remainder of the liquid.

“Stick to the water, sweetheart.”

You wait a second further, "You won't tell me?” That almost feels even more shameful, like you've let yourself be strung along with charming words only for him to not even tell you his name.

He takes a step closer to you, his honey breath fanning over your face. "I've done anything else, that wouldn't be fair to me would it? It's okay, you're a smart girl, I'm sure you'll figure it out.” You could combust right now, under his slightly condescending gaze. Did he expect you to reach out after that, was that too desperate. "Once you think of it, let me know." You just nod along, why would he even want to talk to you? He seemed so magnetic, so enticing, why would he want to talk to you, mess with your brain? He's begun to step away before he comes back, so close you can hear each bitch in his breath as he talks. “You’re so sweet, don't let them take that from you, it's refreshing.” His lips graze your cheek before he's got that patronizing smile on as he talks off, leaving you shocked on the balcony.

Maybe he was just playing with you, like you'd heard man often do, but his voice was so addictive that you didn't care. It made you flush how forward he was, how effortless it all was for him. Somewhere in the fuzziness of your mind it began to click, only one victor was known for his effortless abilities with women, as well as being from District 4. Finnick Odair.

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

thank you for reading, I'm not used to short-form writing my brain is currently hard wired for series, so idk how I feel about this but it was fun to write! thank you for the request and keep them coming if y'all think of anything you want me to write. feedback, comments, reblogs, and likes are all super appreciated, love you all 💋

#finnick odair x reader #finnick odair #finnick odair x y/n #finnick odair fluff #finnick odair angst #finnick odair x reader fluff #finnick odair x you #thg #finnick imagine #finnick odair fanfic #finnick fanfic #finnick x you #finnick x reader #hunger games finnick #thg finnick #finnick odair imagine

[fairysluna]

unrequited.

Aegon was unable to keep his love for you as a secret, but he did not expect for you to shatter his heart into pieces after realizing you do not feel the same way.

MASTERLIST

PAIRING — Aegon II Targaryen x Fem!Reader.

TAGS — angst, unrequited love, inspired by THAT scene from little women, hurt/no comfort, a bit of miscommunication, one sided love, a lot of crying, guilt, cursing, aegon was named heir. If something is missing, let me know!!

AUTHOR'S NOTE — i was sad, i was watching little women, and then i remembered that i haven't written angst in a very long time. It's short, but well, it is what it is. I'm trying to escape the writer's block so bear with me if this isn't perfect, hope you all like it!🤍

WORD COUNT — 1.6k

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤenglish is not my first language.

There was something in the way his eyes looked at you that should have warned you about what was going to happen. Maybe the way his company felt slightly different, or the way he purposely brushed his hand as he walked beside you along the shore of Dragonstone.

A peaceful silence reigned between you two, where only the sound of the sea and seagulls were heard. There was never a need to be talkative whenever you were with him, you two did not need words to express to one another, just a single glance at him and you would be able to read him as if he was a book. It had always been that way. Aegon had never attempted to hide how much he enjoyed your company; no matter how many duties and responsibilities his position might have, he would always find some time during the day to make you company. The mere sound of your cheerful laughter was enough for him to feel whole. Happy.

Your friendship with Aegon began unexpectedly; you were a Lady of a small house, bannermen of the Tyrells. Not even in a million years you would have thought you were going to be one of the heir's closest friends. But you were, and Aegon loved it. You were not like other maidens, you always saw beyond his royal title, beyond the power he would once hold. You saw him as Aegon, Egg as you would sometimes prefer to call him. He loved that you were a breeze of fresh air that would wake him up from his torment every time he felt too overwhelmed.

You were everything for him, an escape of the four wall prison that would often be disguised as a castle. You set him free.

Aegon, inevitably, fell for you in the most beautiful of ways; slowly and unexpectedly. One day he woke up and felt the urge to hold you in his arms each morning; he could not stand another minute without you by his side - it felt almost unnatural to be without your company. His heart found a reason to beat with your presence, his brain would often overshadow his thoughts with silly daydreams about you.

You, you, you. It's always you. It has always been you.

Now, as you were complaining about your Septa scolding you that same morning, Aegon was in awe, mesmerized by you doing such a mundane thing like talking. And, bewitched by the way your lips moved, he stopped his pace. Salty air filling his lungs as he encouraged himself to say what he has been dying to say to you.

You did not realize about it until you were a few steps further than him, and you turned around. He was just looking at you; his puppy, lilac eyes staring at your face almost without blinking. You chuckled nervously, confused about what was happening. You smiled awkwardly, feeling a bit too exposed all of the sudden.

“Is something wrong?” You asked, frowning.

He did not reply, but you saw it in his eyes.

Your smile slowly faded away once the realization hit you, and the atmosphere changed immediately.

“Aegon…” You mentioned his name so differently, it felt almost foreign due to the way it left your lips. It was a plea, you were begging him to not say the words that were about to be pronounced.

He took a step closer; the dreamy glow in his eyes was still there, as if he had not seen the look on your face yet.

“Please, don't,” you managed to say, breathlessly. Your heart was beating so fast that you felt tired. Exhausted, even. You desperately tried to stop it before it was too late.

But you failed.

The weight in your chest became heavier, almost unbearable. Your lower lip was shaking, your legs trembling. You were heartbroken because you knew what you would have to do. Shaking your head, you refused to let him speak, both of you interrupted your words as a desperate attempt to silence each other.

“You need to hear me-”

“-stop this, Aegon-”

“-there’s no use to keep hiding it-”

“-don’t do this-”

“-you know what I'm about to say-”

“-Aegon, please-”

“-I love you.”

The heat of the burning sun was not enough to vanish the coldness that suddenly grew between you two. You closed your eyes, defeated. The silence became painfully awkward, and in that moment Aegon knew the truth.

His heart shattered.

You lifted your head to meet his eyes; they were covered by a layer of tears that were reluctant to escape. He was trying so hard not to fall apart, almost shaking as he stood as stiff as a rock.

“I love you,” he repeated in a whisper, thinking you might have not heard it the first time. “Please… please say it back.”

“Aegon-”

“Please,” he pleaded. His voice was broken and weak, trembling as he choked on a sob. “Please, say it.”

“You cannot do this to me-”

“I have loved you since the first day,” he confessed. “I’ve been trying to deny my feelings, trying to convince myself that it was nothing more, but it is. I need you, I love you more than words could tell, and my heart cannot bear another day without you being mine.”

“Aegon, I don't- I can't-”

“I want you to be my queen, my life companion,” he continued, watching you as you kept shaking your head. “My love, I want everything with you. I want to rule this fucking kingdom with you by my side. Please…”

“Aegon, I'm not fit to rule-”

“Me neither, but we can be a great team, I- I know that-”

“I can't be a queen, I can't marry you,” you interrupted him, trying to make understand your point.

You hated the prohibitions of a title. You see how Aegon was trapped in an invisible cage without escape, and you did not want that for yourself. You wanted freedom, you wanted to travel, to cross the Narrow Sea and meet foreign lands. As a queen, you would be caged; and as a wife to a king, you would be forced to provide him with heirs you do not wish to have yet.

It was selfish, you thought, but it was the thing that would make you happy.

“Aegon, this would never work,” she murmured as she grabbed his hands. He took a sharp breath when he felt your touch. “We're too different, we do not wish for the same things.”

“I know you love me too…. I know you do,” he told you. Some part of himself knew that it was a desperate attempt to try and convince himself that his words were true. But, deep inside, he knew it was not the case; one single glance at you would tell him what he's too afraid to accept.

“You are my best friend, you are the person that I trust the most, you-”

“Because you love me!” he raised his voice.

“I don't, Aegon…” you stopped him before he could say more. His nostrils twitched once he felt the itch on his nose, his lips trembling. “I don't love you like that.”

There was another silence. It was torturous. Aegon pulled his hands away from you. You quickly wiped the rebel tear that fell down your cheek.

“I know you think I'm the one, but I'm not. We would never work, this would only make you miserable-”

“You're the one for me,” he murmured, his eyes lost in the ground.

“I'm not,” you said, trying to reach him, but he just took another step back. “You'll find someone who will love you, who truly deserves you-”

“Am I not worthy of your love?” He suddenly asked, your heart aching at his broken voice.

Gods, you were about to explode.

“You're much more than what I truly deserve, Aegon, you're way better than-”

“I want you, I don't want another. I love you, I could never love anyone else the way I love you!”

“But you will!” you raised your voice to match his. “You will love someone else, and you will forget about me.”

“I can't ever forget about you,” he muttered. He remained quiet for a while before he looked down at you, noticing your teary eyes; a part of him hated himself for making you cry. After a few seconds he said, “I figured you would love me too… After everything we've lived and felt together. I thought we were gonna be happy-”

“You will be happy, Aegon. You'll find a fine young maiden who will give your life a purpose, but that is not me. It cannot be me.”

“You were my purpose,” he murmured, his face covered in tears as his puppy eyes would not look at you.

He felt embarrassed for how broken he was. For how naive he had been to even dare to believe you could possibly love him back. He wondered how he could be so foolish.

“I wish I could be the woman you want, I wish I didn't have to say these things- Aegon!”

He walked away, not wanting to hear any other of your excuses. It hurted enough as it is, your words would only wound him even more.

You tried to stop him, to grab his arm, yelling his name, and try to make him understand you, but he just walked away leaving his footprint on the wet sand as you stood there.

Tears were streaming down your face as you watched him go, one of your hands pressed against your chest as if you were trying to take the pain away. It hurted you to see him so broken, especially when you know it was you the one who caused it.

You had just lost your best friend, and there was no returning point from that.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤfollow @by-fairysluna for more updates!

#aegon ii targaryen x you #house of the dragon #aegon ii targaryen #angst #aegon ii x you #aegon ii fanfic #aegon ii targaryen x reader #aegon ii x reader #aegon ii targaryen x female reader #aegon ii targaryen x y/n #hotd imagine #hotd x reader #hotd angst #aegon ii targaryen angst #aegon ii fic #hotd fanfic #hotd #hotd fanfiction #hotd au

[rrriver]

Swisstom sloppy fuck?

Cw: daddy kink, lingerie, phantom is intersex here so cock and cunt are used (thank @amara-among-the-stars ) , desperation, it's porn guys what do you expect

Wc: 1,354 because I have a problem

"Cariño" is Spanish for darling or dear, it can also be shortened to cari

"You okay in there?"

He can hear the quint ghoul shuffling around in the bathroom, the smell of anxiety and desire mingling into something divine. He waits for a response as he leans back against his hands, his legs hanging off the edge of the bed. He stares at the ceiling, wondering what's waiting for him behind that door. Phantom had found him in the library, had pushed himself up against the multi ghoul while he tried to convince him his chores could wait, that he had a surprise. That was nearly 20 minutes ago.

"Y-yeah, just....Swiss?

"Yeah?"

The shake in his voice is endearing, how shy he is, how eager he is for approval.

"Can you just keep your eyes closed? Please?"

Swiss smiles to himself, shutting his eyes as he shakes his head.

"Okay, they're closed. Now are you gonna keep hiding in there?"

He waits, listening for movement, anything really.

Phantom takes a deep breath as he steadies himself, doing a once over in the mirror before turning to the door. Dew had said this was a part of the fun, the anxiety. But right now all he can think of is if it's too late to back out, to send swiss away and forget it ever happened. It's irrational, really, he spent so much time with Dew, trying to find the perfect set, the perfect color, the perfect measurements. Besides, if he backs out now he'll never hear the end of it.

So he opens the door, taking cautious steps towards the bed.

"Can I look now?"

Phantom hates that his smile holds so much power over him, that the crooked little grin sets his blood ablaze and adrenaline chasing the sweat down his back. He sure Swiss can hear his heart beat, he can feel it in his throat as it is.

"No. Not yet."

He climbs into the Multi"s lap, pulling his hands so they rest against the fabric on his waist. He takes his time pressing his lips against Swiss' jaw, placing a kiss against the corner of his mouth, over his cheekbones. He feels the calloused fingers toying with the straps, slipping under them as he rubs his thumbs against his skin.

"Mmmmm can I look now?"

They're fully whispering now, as if anything above barley audible will ruin the magic.

"No."

He moves to mouth along the lean column of the multus neck, sucking marks into his skin to show he was here. Swiss tilts his head, baring his neck for easier access as he lets his hands wander, letting his mind wander. What color? Pink maybe, perhaps a shade of purple to match the heat in his cheeks. He knows dew would think of the details like that. Phantom tangles his fingers in the older ghouls' ornate locks, rolling one of the many clasps between his fingers as he gives a tentative roll of his hips, testing the waters and earning a stilted groan in return.

"Do you like it?"

His warm breath ghosts over his collarbone, sending a shiver up his spine as he matches each hip roll with one of his own.

"Like it? I can't even see it."

Phantom giggles, leaning into the mystery as he guides Swiss' hand up his sternum, over the cup of the bralette.

"It's yellow."

He rumbles against the shell of his ear, nipping lightly when he chuckles.

He traces over an embroidered flower, leaning down to pepper kisses of his own against the younger ghouls shoulder.

"Not the color I'd have guessed."

"Would you have preferred pink?"

To be quite honest, Swiss can't bring himself to care with the way his pants are filling, not with the way his mouth floods in anticipation. Especially not with the wet spot he can feel seeping through his jeans.

"Hmmm, I'm not sure, you'll have to let me see."

He thinks about it, chewing his lip as he studies the multi's face.

"Okay."

He groans when he finally gets to see the sunflower yellow sitting in stark contrast against the quints lilac skin, how it makes his blush stand out in ways he never knew were possible. He looks him up and down, growling at the thin mesh fabric that barely covers his leaking cock.

"Fuck you're so hot."

He leans in, catching Phantom in a kiss much rougher than before, the desperation practically dripping from his teeth as he licks into his mouth, his hips stuttering with need. He picks him up and tosses him on the bed, crawling over him as he struggles to get his pants off.

Phantom gasps when he lands on his back, Swiss looming over him as he slots himself between his legs.

“Off….take it off.”

He wines against His lips as he tries to push his shirt up, desperate for the feel of Swiss’ warm skin against his own, desperate for more even though they've barely begun.

“Hold on, I'm getting there.”

He laughs when Phantom whines in response, still tugging at the cotton as he pulls him into another kiss. Swiss pulls back, ripping his shirt off and throwing it behind him, his jeans not far behind as he eyes Phantom's cunt. His slick is seeping through the mash already, dripping down onto the bed and it makes Swiss hungry. He watches as the quint spreads his legs a bit further, arching his back to give a better view.

He shimmies himself down the bed, mouthing along the smaller ghouls chest, his stomach, over his hips before he darts his tongue out to kitten lick at Phantom's cock, groaning at the taste.

“Fuck please,”

He thumbs over his entrance, still suckling at him through the skimpy thong.

“Please what?”

Phantom throws his head back against the mattress and all but wails out a “Please daddy,”

It takes Swiss by surprise, expecting anything but that and he has to reach down to squeeze the base of his cock to not blow right then and there.

“Say it again.”

He growls more than he says it, demanding more than asking. He knows it's a dangerous game to play, but he's never heard the quint say something like that and he knows this will live in his mind for years to come.

“Please, daddy please fuck me….need it, I need you.”

Swiss pushes the pretty yellow panties aside and buries his face in Phantom's cunt, wrapping his fingers around his weeping cock as he drinks him in like it's his last meal. His wails echo around the room, dancing through Swiss’ ears like opera music and he thinks he could live here. Could stop time and stay here for the rest of his life, he doesn't need anything else. He would happily drown himself in his mates slick if allowed.

He grinds his own hips against the bed, chasing any kind of relief he can get. He moans when he feels the silky muscles contract around his tongue, trying to suck him in even further, trying to keep him there. When he looks at Phantom through his lashes, wishing he could have the image as a mural in his room. His hair is plastered against his forehead with sweat, drool starting to slip from the corner of his mouth as his eyes roll back, showing only slivers of his obsidian irises.

“Gonna cum for me? Yeah that's it, show me, let me see you fall apart.”

He twists his wrist once, twice, a third time before Phantom keens, no doubt seeing stars against a hazy background.

He whines when Swiss let's go, reaching his clammy hands out to pull him back.

“No, more fuck I need more.”

Swiss leans over him, smiling at the tears starting to form.

I wonder how much more there'll be.

“Who said I was done with you yet, Cariño?”

He pushes the damp hair from his eyes, ducking down to lap up the salt water.

He pushes in with one quick movement, and the noise that falls from the quints lips will haunt him for the rest of his days.

“We're just getting started.”

#cw: daddy kink #shitghosting #the band ghost #riverwritesbullshit #nameless ghouls #the band ghost ficlet #swiss ghoul #phantom ghoul #aeon ghoul #kay back to hiding i go

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

the shed

lilac, chapter ten

a/n: the drama is here, folks. it has arrived. welcome.

summary: “he’s here,” you shuttered, your words barely above a whisper.

warnings: lumberjack!frank castle x reader, lumberjack AU, past domestic violence, crazy ex trope, kinda mob!ex-boyfriend vibes, angst, crying, violence

word count: 2358

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“Hey, Otto,” you smiled warmly as the small town’s sheriff untangled his scarf from around his neck and marched up to where you were wiping a small table down with a damp cloth, “Donna should be here soon if you wanna sit with her during lunch.”

“Oh, I’d love to,” the seasoned man sighed longingly, “but unfortunately the stack of paperwork I left at my desk won’t allow me to hear the latest gossip. She’ll just have to fill me in tomorrow.” 

“So, to go then?” the rag in your grasp finished up its cleanly dance across the smooth woodgrain. 

“Yeah,” he nodded, thinking out loud as he glanced down to stuff as much of the scarf into his left pocket as it could bear, “right now I’m thinking a sandwich, unless, what’s your special today?” 

“Uh, it’s a dahl,” you informed him, carefully folding up the wipe as you stepped closer towards the kitchen door, the sheriff shadowing the short journey, “got lots of spinach and stuff in it.”

“Oh, it’s dahl day? Well, then forget about the sandwich, I’ll have some of that with rice, just rice, and maybe if you could also fill up my thermos with some fresh coffee, that would be great,” he opened up his coat and conjured the nifty decanter from a roomy inner pocket. 

“You got,” you uttered before he handed the flagon off to you and your feet carried you the rest of the way into the kitchen, “hey, dad?” you gently patted his shoulder as you walked past his stance by the stove to get to the coffee maker. 

“Yeah, sweetie?” he halted his stirring and tapped the turmeric-stained spoon on the edge of one of the simmering pots before resting it back down on a little plate to the side. 

Unscrewing the top off of the pastel yellow thermos, you gingerly streamed in some of the requested brew, “can you pack up a portion of dahl with rice for Otto?” 

“Yep, yep,” he fished out a spatula from one of the jugs on the counter that simply overflowed with various utensils, “tell him it’ll be one second.” 

Entering the dining space once more, you handed off the filled thermos to sheriff Nilsen, “here,” who now sat on one of the chairs, “he says it’ll just be a moment.”

“Thanks, kid,” he flashed you a warm smile just before you turned on your heel, “you have a great rest of your day, yeah?”

“You too!” you glanced back over your shoulder with a small wave. 

As you strode towards the lobby and the thick stack of mail you still hadn’t sorted through, a voice began to catch your ear. 

“Fiancé?” old lady Edith’s shrill tone cut through from around the corner, “well, I had absolutely no idea she was engaged,” as you entered the lobby from behind the front desk, your gaze seized to take in the individual the elder was conversing with as your fingers were too busy scooping up the stack of letters, “and to a fella as handsome as you? Well, isn’t she lucky.”

“Well, she just likes to be modest. One of the many qualities I adore about her.” 

Your body instantly froze as the man’s low timbre filled the inn. The shuffling of mail halted as terror shot down your spine.

Slowly raising your panicked eyes, they only seized to grow wider as they glazed over the back-turned individual standing opposite Edith. Shifting his stance, he uncrossed his arms and lowered them to his sides, the crisply up-twisted black button-down sleeves framed in and nearly made it impossible for you not to take in the sight of the recognisable ink that slithered out from under the hem, curled around the honied skin of his forearm and ended right on the back of his ring adorned hand. 

As the letters fell from your grip and casketed over the desk and onto the floor like a fallen jenga tower, the dull commotion managed to catch the pair’s attention as Edith’s hooded eyes trained upon your frozen frame and to your horror, the very reason for you being back here in the first place, turned around as well to spot you. 

“Oh,” a chillingly perfect smile spread across Preston’s lips, “hey, doll,” his tone ever casual as if he’d just talked to you two minutes ago, “there you are.” 

With your heart nearly bursting out of your chest, you didn’t even register that your feet had begun to move before you reached the backdoor out through the sunroom. 

Ripping it open, you sprinted out and over the porch, your speed only increasing as the dewy grass stained your shoes. 

Your eyes were wild, raking across the terrain, franticly attempting to come up with a plan as you went, but swiftly they locked upon where the thick forest began to bloom just beyond the patchy field that stretched between it and the inn’s garden. 

But as you glanced back over your shoulder, the panicked plan of escape withered and died as you spotted your ex marching through the sunroom, his visage clear through the latticed glass of the door. 

Whipping your head around, you spotted the small decrepit tool shed just a few paces to your left. Rushing to the rickety structure, you sucked in a sharp breath as your desperate push to one of the tattered double doors caused the faintest of clangs to reverberate from the rusty dinner bell that decorated the outside as an echo of the past. 

Gingerly shutting the door after you slipped inside, careful as to not evoke any more alarms and ruin your hiding spot, the lack of a lock on the simple doors had completely slipped your memory as your blurry vision stared down at the rudimentary pull handles and nothing else.

Hyperventilating and nearly feeling like you’d faint, you instead pulled over a dust-covered table and pushed it up against the exit, a few screws rattling and rolling off it as it settled in its new place.

Eyes transfixed on the doors, your feet began to back up, not halting till the rough wood of the far side wall stopped you. Reaching into your pocket, you blindly fished out your phone and dialled up the only number you could think of. 

“Hey, I was just about to call you,” Frank’s contrasting tone flowed out from the receiver, “thought I’d maybe swing by when I'm done here in town–…” although his genuine words abruptly ceased as a shuttering cry trembled from your lips, “…Y/n? What’s wrong?”

Your body shook so fiercely that keeping a hold of your phone proved to be a daunting task.  

“F-Frank,” you sobbed. 

“What, what is it?”

“…he’s here. He’s here,” you uttered shakily through your tears, “I walked into the lobby and there he was, I–, fuck…” you squeezed your eyes shut a moment, “Frank, what do I do?”

“Alright, listen to me,” his tone changed in an instant, “did he see you?”

“Y-yes,” you tried your best to keep your voice hushed. 

“Where are you?” 

“I hid in the old shed out back, but, shit, I'm not sure if–” 

Your fear then came to fruition as the doors suddenly rustled, bumping against the makeshift blockade before the attempt was dropped and a low knock instead found your ears. 

“He’s here,” you shuttered, your words barely above a whisper.

“Doll?” Preston’s voice seeped through the rotten wood, “I know that you’re in there,” he tried to shove the doors open once more, the whole world seeming to quake at his attempt. 

Eyes darting around the dim space, you spotted a small broken window to your left. Raising up your elbow, all of the adrenaline that pumped throughout your veins didn’t even let you register the pain as you slammed it against the remaining bits of jagged glass that were stuck to the window, as well as when the remaining short shards stabbed your palms and scratched up the screen of your phone as you desperately began to crawl out. 

“Come on, just open up the door, I don’t have time for any childish games.” 

The sudden sound of the door crashing open and the table scraping across the floor shot straight into your bones. 

Already halfway out, your knee bent up to hoist the remaining half of your shaky form out of the narrow opening, but just as you twisted to do so, a bruising grip grabbed hold of the leg and tugged you back inside, sending you crashing down upon the concrete floor. 

Motes of dust seemed suspended in the air as you coughed on the cold ground. Steadying yourself with your bloodied palms, your hazy vision found your phone by your side, shattered and completely dark. 

Seizing the crown of your locks, he yanked you back up to your feet.

“Now why would you do something like that, huh?” he uttered in such a mundane tone that you’d almost rather have him yell. Dragging you with him towards the doors and still hung agape on the rusty hinges, he grabbed a petite shovel that rested on the messy table and jammed the wooden shaft through the loops of the two handles. Gliding his dominant hand up your frame as he backed you up, the long fingers swiftly enveloped your throat as your back slammed against a wall, “I just wanna have a little conversation with you,” like splintery sandpaper, the rough wood scraped against your spine, and your eyes squeezed shut, “uh uh,” the stinging grip he had on your hair loosened, drifting his knuckles down your cheek in a cruel caress as he demanded, “look at me when I’m talking to you,” your whole frame jerked as you felt him land a harsh slap across your cheek, “show me those pretty eyes,” and your bloodshot glare blinked open, “there,” he wiped the tears that trickled down your face, “that wasn’t so hard, was it?” your gaze flickered down to the ominous ink that glazed the appendage clasped around your airway. The head of the snake that decorated the back of his palm nearly looked like it was about to come alive and bite into your jugular vein, “you know, if you wanted to go on a little trip back home, all you had to do was say so, we could have figured something out.” 

Soon, your hands fluttered up to warily drift on either side of his, a shift that caused his jaw to clench. 

“Doll,” he glared down at your lacking jewel, “where’s your ring? Did you misplace it again? If you keep doing that, then I’m just gonna think you don’t like it,” his head tilted to the side in an almost sombre manner, “what, was the diamond not big enough? If you want something more showy, you know all you have to do is ask, money’s just money. Maybe a sapphire? You could look like Princess Diana. Hell, if you want the real thing, I know a guy,” his face slowly inched closer to yours, “I would do anything for you, you know that right?” he proclaimed with an eerie smile upon his lips, “anything, that’s how much I love you. Even if you can’t always wrap your simple little head around the reasoning in the moment,” his free fingers moved to brush some of your dishevelled hair into place, “it’s always because I love you.”

“Preston, please,” your voice was low as you gasped, fretful fingers lightly tapping against his unyielding grip, “you’re hurting me.”

“Don’t tell me what to do,” he warned softly, rage crackling in his fiery gaze, “you don’t do that,” ignoring your struggling, he went back to wistfully fixing your hair, “you just stand there, like the pretty doll you are and be perfect for me.”

“C-can’t breathe–”

“Oh, you can’t?” his brows furrowed mockingly, “is this better?” he asked as his ring-adorned fingers tightened around your throat and squeezed so taut that no air could reach your lungs, “you are mine,” he pressed his lips to your cheek as your eyes fluttered and your limbs fought against the inevitable fate of shortly passing out, “you will always be fucking mine.”

But just as the world began to slip out from under you, a loud crash found your ears. Forcing your eyes to open, you witnessed as the door got kicked in, the improvised lock shattering into shards from the blow and scattering across the dirty ground.

Glaring over his shoulder, Preston exclaimed, “who the fuck are you?” 

Only looming in the doorway for a fragment of a second, Frank didn’t give him the satisfaction of an answer as he rushed to rip Preston off of you.

As you crumbled to the ground, painful coughs escaped your frame. The shed still felt like it spun beneath you as your hazy gaze fluttered up to see Frank pin Preston against the wall. As if you were underwater, their voices seemed miles away as you watched Frank’s callused fist repeatedly collide with the side of your ex’s face. 

This wasn’t how you wanted it to happen. Every thunderous crack prompted a dreadful pit to dig itself within your gut. You weren’t doubting that Preston didn’t deserve this, but you had also come to learn a fragment of the truth of just how few of those punches it took for Frank to have an individual no longer breathing.  

Frantically casting your gaze everywhere and anywhere, past the garden, out in the driveway, the faint sight of the sheriff, lunch in hand, tossing his scarf around his neck and strolling back to his car, found your fuzzy vision.

Stumbling, you crawled out the door and weakly pulled yourself up enough to reach the short rope that hung from the old bell, the looming unconsciousness steadily catching up to you as you strained to do so. 

Ringing the bell once, twice, and on the third time, just as you saw Otto whip his head around in your direction, your vision finally faded to complete darkness as you crumbled to the ground. 

© 2023 thyme-in-a-bubble 

#lea’s writing #lilac series #lumberjack!frank castle #frank castle x reader #frank castle imagine #frank castle series #frank castle x fem!reader #frank castle angst #frank castle hurt/comfort #frank castle x you #frank castle x y/n #frank castle x female reader #frank castle x f!reader #frank castle fic #the punisher fic #frank castle fanfiction #the punisher x reader #lumberjack au

[becauseicantthinkwritings]

Teeth

Part 17

Werepanther! Billy Russo x Female Reader

Masterlist

Warnings: Mentions of stalking, anxiety, bad dreams, comfort, talks of injury.

You find that packing a bag is a lot harder than anticipated. 

You stand in your bedroom after Billy made sure it was safe, trying to just grab as many items of work clothing as possible. Your eyes drop on the modest blue dress you’d worn with the intention of catching his eye, and your heart squeezes at the reminder of every time he’d abandoned you. You really didn’t feel like doing this, staying with him would be torture, especially since you’d told him earlier in the day that you wanted absolutely nothing to do with him. 

There’s a pressure in your throat when you think of him, and yet still, a flutter in your stomach. How could one person make you feel so sad, and undeniably happy at the same time?

You sigh, flopping onto your bed aggressively, feeling the cool sensation of your sheets against your cheek, wiggling to get comfortable and accidentally knocking one of your many pillows off the bed. You reach for it lazily, sitting up and grumbling when you can’t reach it.

Like everything else, you almost miss this, until you remember Billy telling you that he’d left some type of note.

It’s what makes you look, really look, ducking your head under the bed to look around. Tucked in the small space between your nightstand and your bed, you notice the peek of a piece of paper.

You reach for it, squishing your hand into the small crevice.

It’s not much bigger than your phone, and you tilt your head to study what you’ve found.

You know his handwriting, sleek and a little messy, perhaps too many things on his mind all at once.

‘I promise, 

I didn’t want to leave you.

                                -Billy’

Your mouth turns down into a frown, a deep chasm of sadness being carved out inside you. You’re not sure how to feel, but for the first time, you try to think about things from his perspective. 

Maybe he hadn’t meant to leave that night, maybe he’d wanted to wake up with you as much as you’d wanted to wake up with him.

You wonder what that might have been like, opening your eyes and finding him there, maybe still asleep. Just the idea of it flips your stomach.

And the absence of it brings tears to your eyes, longing for something too big for you to name.

Your lip wobbles, your throat tightens, the telltale signs of an oncoming episode of tears.

It’s like a release, letting yourself cry, feeling the lingering sadness and fear find a way out of you.

Desperate, to feel safe and protected.

.

He knows it’s Dinah before she knocks.

It’s a familiar scent,  one of his most significant ‘almost’ relationships- if he could even call it that.

In reality, it had just been three months of fooling around, late nights and early mornings and a constant string of ‘never enoughs’ between them.

She’d put an end to it amicably over breakfast, and he’d understood, even agreed.

That was three years ago.

They’d encountered each other a lot over the following years, even butting heads over keeping clients of his safe once or twice.

Dinah, with her lilac scent, was something of a friend to him, despite the number of times their conversations escalated into arguments. 

Billy pulls the door open to greet her, cup of coffee in hand, she steps in with her hair in a ponytail and her face clear of makeup, having clearly come from home.

“Thanks for coming so quickly.” He says to her.

Dinah nods.

“It’s fine.” She responds, taking a sip of her coffee and sauntering over to the photos still laid out on your counter.

He comes to stand beside her, trying to imagine what she could be seeing.

After a moment, the suspense is too much.

“What do you think?” He asks.

It takes a moment for her to respond.

“Someone is trying to scare her. These photos-.” Dinah gestures at two photos in particular, one of them is taken from a high vantage point, the rooftop most likely, of the alley where you’d been robbed. He can see the back of your head as you try to back away from one man just to run into the other. The other photo is of you and Andrew in the grocery parking lot, he can see the fear in your eyes. He takes a deep breath to reign in the beast.

“-Were picked in particular to frighten her, to show her that he’s always there, in her worst moments. They want her to feel watched.”

He clenches his jaw, it was an analysis he’d already drawn upon, but hearing it from someone else solidifies his anger.

“You think this is sexual?” Billy asks, looking over Dinah’s shoulder.

“I can’t say. They could be getting off on the fear, but the photos themselves don’t give much away, except that she’s being watched a lot.”

Dinah grabs a small packet of gloves from her bag, and carefully takes her time, tugging one out of the packet and sliding it onto her right hand. She grabs a photo, lifting it to her nose and taking a cautionary sniff.

He knows what she smells, ink, paper, and distinctly nothing else.

“Hmm.” She hums, flipping it around to examine the back of it.

He raises his eyebrows curiously.

“There’s no scent on these, nothing discernible. They could be copies for her, and not the ones the stalker looks at and obsesses over. But that doesn’t make sense.”

Billy’s trying to see what Dinah sees.

“Why doesn’t that make sense?”

Suddenly, Dinah pauses and tilts her head.

What now? Billy wants to ask.

“You’re not in any of these.” 

“Yeah?” 

Dinah looks up at him as if he’s supposed to understand something he clearly doesn’t. She looks back down, begins shuffling through the photos with her gloved hands. She stops at a particular photo. 

“Isn’t this your front door?” Dinah asks.

Billy looks over, nodding at the photo of you, standing outside his apartment. He didn’t know when exactly it was taken, but he has a general idea that it might be when he was gone.

“It is.” 

“But you weren’t there.”

“No.” He answers.

At the same moment, something else disturbs his ears. Both him and Dinah turn to your bedroom, listening to the quiet sounds of you crying.

Billy lets out a low sigh of agony on your behalf, he turns to Dinah to excuse himself, but she’s already looking at him like he’s her next puzzle.

“That bad, huh?”

He doesn’t dignify her comment with an answer.

“I’ll be right back.” He grunts, turning away from Dinah.

.

You wipe at your tears hastily when someone, who you presume is Billy, knocks on your bedroom door.

“Yeah?” You say, with a heavy wobble in your voice, crumpling the note in your hand to conceal it at the same moment he opens the door.

You glance up at him, a tear swelling at the corner of your eye.

You give an awkward laugh, looking away as you wipe your eye.

“Sorry, long day.” You mumble, sniffling.

He doesn’t say anything, walking over to you, before gently pushing the pillow that’s beside you away to make space for him to sit. 

You furiously wipe at your tears, a little tired of depending on him to comfort you.

You sniffle, unable to handle the silence between you, opening your palm to show him the piece of paper you had intended to hide from him.

“Found your note.” You say, trying to keep your tone light, despite the shaky way it sounds.

“I’m sorry.” He finally says, in a low way that makes his remorse resonate through your chest.

You smile, shaking your head, wiping at more tears.

“It’s alright, I guess I’m still trying to understand how intense this field of work is.” 

You hear him take a slow breath, still unable to look up at him.

“I shouldn’t be repeating this, but it was my friend, Frank. His son had gone missing. I can’t say much more than that, but I need you to know that I never wanted to do that to you.” Billy says softly, leaning in so that you can hear him.

Your heart squeezes even more, and you finally look up at him. There’s not much on his face that gives away his earnesty, only a look in his eye that begs you to believe him.

“Did everything turn out okay?” You ask, concerned.

He presses his lips together, nodding.

You look back at the note again.

“I guess if there had to be a reason for you to leave, that’s a good one.”

His hand clenches tightly into a fist before you watch his hand reach across to hover over yours. There’s a moment of hesitation before he touches you.

His large hand covering yours tingles almost instantly. His fingers are purposeful in their subtle motion. You watch his thumb sway over your skin. 

You think about turning your hand upward, about the way his palm would feel against yours, like a fire that can’t go out.

But all you can do is think about it, too afraid in the moment to actually act, your chest squeezing as you struggle to decide what you want from him.

“Come on, you should meet Agent Madani. It’ll help you feel better to know she’s on the case.”

You smile, nodding your head slowly.

.

Agent Madani is gorgeous.

It’s definitely not the first thing you should be thinking when you see her, except that you couldn’t logically think of anything else with the way she looks.

She extends her hand out to you in greeting when you’re near.

“Dinah Madani, Homeland.” she says, and you shyly shake her hand, introducing yourself in turn.

“Stalking isn’t specifically handled by Homeland, but I’ll pass the information down to the relevant authorities. This is really just a favour to Billy.” She explains, inclining her head in his direction.

You wonder briefly if they’ve dated. The answer is probably yes.

“I do have some questions for you, about the pictures. Do you mind?”

You suck in a deep breath. Her casualness about the situation helps you.

“Not at all, go ahead.” You encourage.

“Do you have any idea which one of these are most recent?” She says, waving her hand over the photos spread out on your counter.

You examine them closely, immediately picking out the photo of you standing in front of Billy’s home.

“This one was taken Sunday I think.” You answer, pointing at it. You tilt your head, remembering the moment, your most desperate, you think, where you’d given up on calling and texting, going straight to his front door.

You keep your eyes on it, not daring to look up at him, afraid of the pathetic way you probably appear to him. 

Dinah nods, making note.

“Okay, I’m gonna bag these up for analysis, and I definitely don’t recommend you staying here. Is there a friend you can crash with?” She asks.

“She’ll stay with me.” Billy supplies, and you really avoid looking at anyone in the room, pretending to find the invasive photos of yourself more interesting than the silent conversation going on between Billy and Agent Madani.

.

Dinah hits him with an angry stare as soon as you’re not looking.

Billy knows what it’s for. Saying anything about Frank was largely considered a bad idea. Bears were a popular target for hunters, their ability to withstand harsh situations meant that they were always stepping in to protect shifters that couldn’t protect themselves. Bears never turned from a fight, and in turn, protecting bear communities was priority one to all shifters. To take down one bear, was to also take down the hundreds they would protect from harm’s way.

It was no question why Dinah would be upset at him mentioning Frank to you.

But Billy didn’t care. He’d said as little as he possibly could, and you needed to know that he’d had a damn good reason for not staying that night. He needed you to understand that you were his highest priority now.

So, with that in mind, he keeps his gaze calm on the were-cheetah angrily staring at him.

Dinah turns to you after Billy’s little reveal that you’ll be staying with him. She dips into her wallet and produces a card.

“In case you want a different place to crash, give me a call.” Dinah says, extending her card to you.

The predator growls loudly inside his head, drowning out all his thoughts for a brief moment. No way would you be staying anywhere else than with him.

He has a self indulgent moment, where he thinks about seeing you just as you wake up. He curls his hands into tight fists at his sides. How was he going to be able to keep himself in check with you in such close proximity? Was he strong enough to look at you, and not take you into his arms?

He didn’t think he was strong enough now, as he watches you walk back to your room to continue packing.

.

Billy’s place is bare in a way that takes you a moment to realise that there’s nothing of substance used to decorate.

With a mix between blue and grey, the walls of his home stand solitary of anything besides mirrors, that help to make the place seem just a little bit bigger than it really is. As you step in, you’re met with a living room space on your left, the stone grey couches complimenting the walls easily. 

There’s a vintage feel to his place, hardwood floors, with the bannister of the stairs made of some old winding wood, the doors are framed with articulate designs, which make you feel like you’re in a timeless space.

He places your bags gently on said couches, and you follow suit with the small bag of personal items in your hand.

“I’ll show you around a little bit.” He says, barely meeting your eye.

“Okay.” You respond, your voice feeling louder than normal.

The lower floor has a gym, and somehow a swimming pool. The deeper in you move, the less antiquated things feel, and the more modern. It’s not too noticeable to the untrained eye, but you manage to identify what’s new from what’s old.

You stare at the pool in open-mouthed surprise. The ceiling dotted with many tiny lights, giving the impression of a night sky above the water.

“Holy shit, this room is pretty cool.” You murmur, taking a few steps in, admiring the plants that surround most edges of the pool.

“Thanks, I designed this myself, I really wanted something that felt like the forest. I even have a rain setting.”

You turn to watch him move into the room, and tap on a small LED screen. After a few more taps, it begins to rain right above the pool.

“Woah.” You say, feeling a desperate urge to just shed your clothes and jump right in, the rushing sound of the rain tingles your ears pleasantly.

“You’re welcome to use it whenever you like.” 

You turn to look at Billy, your stomach flipping with all the thoughts running through your head. You think about the way he kissed you.

He takes a deep breath, looking away, making a few more taps to stop the artificial rain.

He takes you upstairs next, showing you to a guest bedroom near the front of his home, where you can see the cars passing by on the street, but no sound of them reaches your ears because he’s soundproofed the room for comfort.

Beside your room is his office, and then across from that is a sitting space with a TV. When you look out of the windows here, you can see your building, and you realise that this window looks right into your bedroom.

With absent minded realisation, you acknowledge that this is the window he was standing in, that night when he-

You gulp, feeling your body flush with heat.

You study the window frame, trying to memorise it, trying to imagine Billy standing in this very spot, stroking his magnificent cock, head tilted back… moans that echo through your head from the night you spend together… the way he probably looked- maybe with sweat beading on his skin-

You blink, mouth parted, breaths harsh, trying to rein yourself in, your clit throbbing at the very thought. You swear you could come from just the idea of him alone.

He’s standing behind you, and you hope that you keep a calm, neutral expression on your face when you turn back to him.

His eyes on you make you flutter, you feel like a pair of wings, anxiously flittering under his warm gaze. You find it hard to maintain eye contact.

“You have a nice place.” You whisper quietly, glancing up at him for only a moment.

.

Billy can smell your arousal.

Notes of sweet strawberries in the air, he licks his lips and takes a deep breath, tries to reorient himself. 

He’s growing used to fighting the predator inside himself by now, that demands he scoop you into his arms and kiss you till your eyes glaze over from the bliss. 

He thinks about it, thoroughly, he’d walk up to you, pin your body against the window so that you can’t slip by him, cup the back of your head and press his mouth to yours. He’d sigh in relief, his cock slowly starting to swell as your hands would grip his biceps, trailing up and into his hair. He considers what taking you against the window would be like, only being pulled from his thoughts when you speak.

“Wait, I’m not done showing you around.” He says smoothly, extending his hand for you to take.

He watches you look down at his hand and something like surprise covers your features. He considers he might be pushing it, and he begins to retract the offer of holding his hand.

He doesn’t get far before your hand is slipping into his, giving him a reassuring squeeze that feels like it goes right to his heart.

He tries not to overdo it, turning and guiding you.

.

A little path down from the kitchen and you both reach another bedroom.

“This is mine.” He says, his  voice sending waves of desire through you. 

You blink in amazement at the room.

Dark, viridian walls, a four poster bed with midnight black sheets, you tilt your head and admire the ambience the room mimics. Floating shelves that look like rocks and a couple of lamps in the shape of mushrooms.

And yet still, barely any personal items lying around.

You can count them all in one hand, a few worn books on his nightstand that you trace your fingers curiously over, a watch that’s no doubt triple your salary, and a t-shirt dropped on the bed as if he was in a rush to leave.

Before he came to you, you realise.

“You don’t have a lot of personal items lying around.” You think aloud.

“I’ve heard that before. I just don’t have that many sentimental things.”

You try to smother a fond smile.

“I have the movie ticket stubs from the first time I saw a movie by myself.”

“I hate crowded theatres.”

“I have pictures of Amy and Dani and me at each other’s birthdays.”

“I have Frank’s dog tags?”

You giggle, turning to him.

“I guess that counts. Maybe you have sentimental items in your own way.”

“Maybe I do.”

You want to sit in his bed, instead you settle for touching the sheets, wondering what sinking into them would feel like, absentmindedly, you take a deep yawn.

“You should get some sleep.” Billy suggests from behind you. You look back at him. 

“I’ll show you the rest of my place tomorrow.”

You let out a slow sigh, nodding, before heading to his door.

“Goodnight, Billy.” You say softly.

“Sweet dreams.” He answers.

.

When you leave his room, you find yourself wide awake again.

After a quick shower, you lie in bed, staring up at the ceiling, trying to figure out why you’d felt so sleepy in his room, and so wide awake in this one.

You wonder what being next to him again would feel like. His warm skin and his deep breathing, right into your ear, spreading tingles over your skin. You need him, you realise, you need him in every way one person needs another. The only way you’d be relaxed now, is thinking about him beside you.

You only notice you’re asleep when you dream of him.

He’s sitting on the couch outside of his office when you find him. Billy looks up at you with a smile as you approach.

You don’t say a word, climbing onto his lap and resting your head on his shoulder, feeling the peace he radiates seep into you.

The serenity turns into something more when he kisses your neck.

You hum, feeling his hand drift into your hair, fingers on your scalp to ease your stress.

“Despite how much I ache for you,” He whispers, “Right now, I just want to make you feel safe.”

You sigh, letting your shoulders slump in peace.

“If there’s anyone that could do it. It’s you.” You reply, “Billy I- I feel so much for you.”

He says your name on a soft breath.

“I know it’s fast and probably insane but more and more I can’t stop thinking that… you’re so right, and I wonder- I worry- if I’m right for you.”

Suddenly, he disappears from under you. Vanishes into thin air.

You look around, calling his name in confusion. 

In the window, something catches your attention.

You stand, worry in your chest, fear as you approach, your dream consciousness is too curious to deny peeking out of his apartment window.

You can see your bedroom, the curtains have been pulled open, you tilt your head in confusion, knowing that the last time you looked out of this window, your curtains were drawn. 

In the haze of the night, you can just make out the shape of your bed, lilac sheets that do not look quite right, as if you’re seeing it from an angle you’ve never seen before.

Still, there’s a seed of fear inside of you, something is off about what you’re looking at. Your curtains sway in the breeze.

Fear seals itself into your bones when a dark, unfamiliar figure stands in your window, looking back at you.

You don’t realise you’ve jerked awake until the crash of falling glass meets your ears.

You sit up in fright, looking over the edge of the bed to see that you’ve knocked over the glass of water that was on the nightstand.

Your breathing is shallow, still trying to process the last few moments of your dream when the door swings open startling you.

His hair is fluffy and askew, his beard still a little too long and his body bare save for a pair of loose pants.

Your heart is still slamming into your ribcage, and breathing is a task, but you still try to speak.

“I’m fine,” You gasp, “Bad dream.” 

You hunch over, pressing your hand to your chest as you hear him moving around. Everytime you close your eyes, you see the silhouette of someone you don’t know, in your private space, looking at you. Unsettled, your heart pounds, your body betraying you with the way you tremble.

Billy grabs a spare towel from the adjoining bathroom and places it on the floor beside the bed to soak up the spilled water.

You startle when you feel him beside you in the next moment.

He cups your face, urging you to look up at him. For a moment, your still dreaming brain swears he’s going to kiss you. It helps you calm down a little more, though the fear still spears through your chest.

“Wanna sleep in my bed?” He asks softly.

You don’t even think about it, nodding eagerly.

He doesn’t hesitate to slide his arm under your knees, and lift you easily. His strength distracts you even more from your fright.

“I can walk.” You argue meekly.

“There’s glass all over.” He responds, something of an excuse more than anything else.

You sigh, relaxing against him, when he walks past his sitting area and kitchen, you close your eyes and bury your face in his chest, too afraid of what you might see.

You wait patiently till the sound of his footsteps change, from the echo of a large room to the muted footfalls of the rug in his bedroom before you can open your eyes again.

He’s gentle, placing you on his bed carefully, you miss the feeling of his skin, looking up at him with a mix of anxiety and drowsiness.

“I’m scared.” You whisper to him, too vulnerable to worry about how you appear to him.

His eyes are filled with something- molten and warm, concern and understanding.

“Want some water?” Billy offers, and you nod absentmindedly.

You find the strength to be okay with him leaving the room, turning your head to stare at the mushroom lamp illuminating his space.

His space.

You’re suddenly aware that this is his bed, and these are his pillows, and this is where he sleeps and it brings you comfort to be in his space, taking up room.

Your mind jumps back to an image of the dark shadow, and you let out a sigh of frustration. You press the heels of your palms to your eyes, trying your hardest not to cry.

Why was this happening to you? Your thinking spirals, reminding you of all you’d been through. Your head flashes to an image of the serial killer. The fear you’d felt when you’d first noticed him, standing in the shadows, just watching you.

You can’t seem to stop it, your brain going right into the memory of being mugged, your back hitting the wall when you were pushed, the air leaving you now, just like it did then.

He calls your name, and you raise your head.

"I'm alright." You say to his silent question, reaching out to accept the glass of water from his hands and taking a cursory sip.

"Thank you." You say.

Billy sits beside you, studying you carefully while you look into the glass cupped in your palms. 

"Wanna talk about it?" He asks.

You sigh, shaking your head.

"There's not much to say. I'm just scared." 

"Can I help?"

You look up at him with a small frown on your face.

"You're helping a lot already, I'm worried that I'm-" your voice trails off.

He moves a little closer.

"That you're-?" Billy prompts.

"That I'm too dependent on you. That you've become the person that can calm me the fastest. That if you weren't around, I might have spiraled into a panic attack."

"There's nothing wrong with needing help." He supplies, and you nod your head to agree with him, a small frown tugging at your mouth.

"I still feel like a burden though, I'm sorry."

He finally get comes in closer, taking the glass away from you, placing it onto the nightstand beside you. You look up at him in curious surprise when he settles himself into the space beside you. 

He reaches for you, encouraging you to the his hand. You let him pull you closer, wondering what he's doing.

He pulls you into the space beside him, your head resting on his shoulder, your body tucked into his side.

"I know how you feel. I've felt like a burden before."

"Yeah? Will you tell me about it?"

"Well, a good one is that time I got shot. No military training really prepares you for how much that shit hurts."

You smile at his emphasis.

"Frank and I were pulling of some impossible shit when it happened, behind enemy lines somewhere stealing intel or something- the how is not really relevant. But the bullet had been dipped in poison and by all means, Frank had had every reason to leave me behind."

Billy remembers it, the sound of gunfire from the hunters behind them as they'd been escaping. One lucky bullet laced with snake venom and he was basically dead. 

"Frank had tossed me over his shoulder, and kept running. He'd put me down somewhere safe, and went back for the antidote."

Your eyebrows raise in surprise and admiration for his friend.

"When he came back. I told him how dumb he was. He should have let me die, he risked the intel that would have saved countless lives… for me."

You study his face, the far away look in his eye as if he's right back wherever he was the first time.

"Frank's only response was that he'd do it again in a heartbeat."

"He likes you." You respond.

"Yeah, I guess he saw something in me that was worth keeping around." He finally looks down at you, "And maybe, to him in the moment, he didn't see me as a burden."

He cups your cheek, thumb caressing the lines of your face.

"I understand now how he felt, cause I don't see you as a burden. I see you as someone who just needs a little help."

You let out a sigh, reaching your arm across his chest to give him a little hug.

“I guess- you’re right. But-”

“-No buts,” he cuts you off, “I am right.”

You laugh, pressing your face to his chest, feeling drowsiness overtake you.

You take a slow breath, yawning.

“Thank you.” Is the last thing you say before closing your eyes, feeling his body with every sense you have, no longer having to imagine what he would feel like because you have him right next to you, just like you’d always hoped.

.

.

.

#werepanther #billy russo #billy russo x reader #billy russo x female reader #my writings #werepanther!billy russo #billy russo smut #monster!billy russo #monster!billy

[yuenieve]

a friendly exchange [k.ayato]

feat. single dad! kamisato ayato, elementary school teacher! female reader.

content warning: modern!au, smut with plot lol, more plot than smut tbh, rich CEO ayato, elementary school teacher reader, dilf/teacher, corruption kink, he’s a tease lmao, dacryphilia(?), doggy, unprotected sex, breeding kink, mating press, bulge kink, pet names (angel, love, darling, girl, precious), he says mommy once, praise(?), he’s kinda a mean dom in the end, fem!reader.

word count: too many to count.

notes: i finished this at 4 am rip sorry for any mistakes lol

nsfw content under the cut!

There wasn’t a pair of ears who haven’t heard of the name Kamisato Ayato. Everyone and their neighbor’s dog have heard some mention of the blue-haired business man. As head of the nation’s leading corporation, Kamisato Ayato was quite the figurative icon.

Figurative more than icon. Because although the well-known CEO has had his name plastered on every nook and cranny of the city, he rarely made a public appearance.

Despite his fame and recognition, you only knew 2 things about him:

1) He is a wealthy and important man. His business, Kamisato Enterprise, oversees many—if not all—work fields in the country, including education. Heck, half his daily income could cover your yearly salary.

2) His son is your student.

Kamisato Akihiko was an intelligent and reserved 1st grader in your class. What he lacked in boisterous banter, he made up in chivalrous charm. You often caught him nose buried in a hardcover book, instead of being with the bustling children on the playground during recess.

Akihiko was a model child, you knew that.

But why were you so nervous to meet his father on parent-teacher day?

Maybe it’s because you knew nothing about his personal life, or because you’ve never seen the mysterious man. Your colleagues at the front office told you his wife showed up for all school events related to Akihiko, but never him. However, by some stroke of luck, Ayato himself RSVP’d for the parent-teacher meeting today.

Swallowing down a nervous gulp, you stood by your classroom door and called out Akihiko’s name. You walked back to your desk, arranging the stack of papers for the nth time.

You heard a knock, “Excuse me?”

His voice was handsomely husky, you noted. Turning around, you came face to face with what you would have assumed to be a relic of a Greek god.

His tall stature and broad shoulders had your eyes wandering. His defined arms looked so incredibly attractive despite being hidden under his suit jacket. He ran a hand through his lilac locks and smiled politely.

“Mr Kamisato…welcome,” You greeted, finally meeting his eyes.

Get a grip, he’s a married man!! I shouldn’t have thought of that, please forgive me…

“Thank you for having me, miss L/n.”

You exchanged the friendly smile and gestured towards one of the desks, “Please, have a seat.”

He sat down and took his expensive black gloves off, you mentally cursed yourself for finding the action effortlessly enticing. You cleared your throat and handed him the papers.

“Akihiko is a wonderful student, these are his assignments and tests.” Ayato went through them and nodded along,

“He’s performing exceptionally well, as you can see. Some of our head teachers are even recommending he skip a few grades.”

Ayato hummed and held his chin between his thumb and pointer finger, “I see…but what do you think?”

“Huh?” You stuttered, not expecting the question.

“What those head teachers say do not concern me. You are Akihiko’s teacher, so you know him best. What do you think? Should he skip a few grades?”

You leaned back against your desk and contemplated the matter. Albeit the little boy truly was clever, you felt hesitant about the decision.

“In all honesty, Mr Kamisato…I don’t think he should,” you answered.

Ayato gave you a knowing look to go on.

“I don’t mean to say your son is incapable of undergoing a higher level workload, but…he’s still a child. The beginning years of elementary school are not meant for academic woes. Akihiko should spend these years exploring his interests, making friends and having fun. He should…be a kid.”

The corner of Ayato’s lips tugged upwards and he nodded, “I wholly agree with you.”

You smiled and turned around to fetch the attendance sheet. Unbeknownst to you, Ayato was gazing at you with a twinkle in his eyes.

“If you could just sign here, and if you have any further questions about your son’s performance, I am more than happy to oblige.” You told him.

He sighed and signed the paper, “No, that’s all.” He paused to look into your eyes, “I’m happy you’re Akihiko’s teacher.”

You shyly looked down and smiled as you received the papers back from him.

“I—uhh wasn’t expecting you here, Mr Kamisato. I’ve been told your wife comes to all school events.”

He arched a brow in confusion, “Wife?”

You blinked, “Y-yeah, I believe her name was Kamisato Ayaka…?”

“Ah,” the realization dawned on him, “I think you’ve misunderstood; that’s my sister.”

“Oh! I’m so sorry—!“

“No, no, it’s quite alright.” He assured with a gentle smile. “I don’t have a wife.”

“Oh…”

“My ex wife left when Akihiko was 3.”

You opened your mouth then closed it, unsure of what to respond with. Ayato noticed your predicament and simply waved his hands dismissively, “It’s fine, it happened a long time ago. I’m sure she’s more than fine with my ex business partner now.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” You murmured, sympathetically.

Ayato stared at you. Despite discussing the misfortunate matter at hand, he seemed to focus on you alone. You looked absolutely iridescent in his eyes, he couldn’t help but take a fleeting glance at your lips.

He shook his head and peered at the clock, “My apologies, but I must be going now.”

You nodded as he rose from his seat, “Of course, thank you for coming today.”

He put his gloves back on and extended his hand out, “It was a pleasure meeting you, miss L/n.”

“Likewise, Mr Kamisato.”

He gave you a soft smile before departing from the classroom. Once he was gone, you sighed and walked back to your desk. You stared at his name on the sheet, your mind wandering.

3) He is very handsome.

+

“Excuse me, miss L/n?”

You peeked down from your desk and spotted Akihiko standing with a bouquet of flowers clearly too big for his 6-year-old hands to carry.

You quickly ushered him to come around the desk and held onto the flower arrangement for him, “What’s this, Akihiko?”

“My dad told me to give it to you, it’s for Mother’s Day.”

You felt the heat rise to your cheeks and you feigned a cough to hide your flustered face.

“Th-that’s so kind of you two, thank you very much, Akihiko.” You patted the boy’s hair and smiled.

Just then, the last bell rang and the erupt sound of children filled the hallways.

You looked down at Akihiko, “You should be heading out now, I’ll see you on Monday. Please thank your father for the flowers.”

He nodded and began to make his way out the classroom, before abruptly stopping by the door.

You tilted your head, “What’s the matter?”

He slowly turned around, his eyes downcast on his shoes. “Miss L/n? Can you do something for me?”

“Of course, Akihiko. What is it?”

He bashfully played with the hem of his shirt, “Well, my dad always says you’re like a mother to me. He says teachers are our second parents.”

You made a sound of amusement, “Your father is correct.”

“If he is, then…can you participate with me in today’s Mother’s Day card contest?”

Your lips parted, that was the last thing you were expecting him to ask. You felt touched to be in this position, and it warmed your heart to know Akihiko felt comfortable enough with you to ask.

“I’d love to help you make a Mother’s Day card.”

+

Ayato had been standing by the school entrance for what felt like half an hour now. Usually, he’d send one of his assistants to pick Akihiko up. But since his schedule spontaneously cleared up for the day, he decided to come himself.

Checking his watch for the hundredth time that afternoon, Ayato decided to go inside and assess the situation. The hallways were scarce until he saw children accompanied by their parents in the courtyard.

He saw dozens of tables and chairs folded out, occupied by little kids and mainly their mothers. The scattered piles of paper and other arts and crafts supplies on the ground was enough to tell him what was going on.

Eventually, he spotted his son with you at one of the tables. He made his way over, a smile crossing his face at the sight of both your joyful expressions.

“Dad!!”

Before Ayato knew it, he felt the force of his son’s hug. His short arms trying to go around his father’s hips. You smiled at the display, admiring the little family.

“Someone forgot to come back to the car,” Ayato teased, picking his son up easily and holding him against his shoulder.

“Sorry, dad. I asked miss L/n to be my mom for the contest!” Akihiko said. You felt your face heat up at the given title, but Ayato found your reaction adorable.

Ah, he really wanted to ruin you.

“I see. Well, I’m happy you asked her. She makes quite the mom, don’t you agree?” At this point, Ayato was purposely saying it to fluster you.

“Akihiko, I think they’re starting now. You can go over there,” you mentioned, diverting the topic.

Ayato lowered Akihiko down, letting him run towards the center with the other kids.

“Thank you for the flowers, by the way.” You brought up, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

Ayato smiled, “You’re most welcome, miss L/n.”

He started clapping as they began to announce the winners of the card contest. But your gaze remained on him, did he always have that pretty mole? It was so close to his lips…if only you could…

“Y/n.”

“Hm?” He turned to you.

“Y/n. You can call me Y/n,” you said.

His smile only grew wider, having to bite down on his lip to contain himself. “In that case, you may call me Ayato.”

You hummed, repeating it, “Ayato…”

+

“Ayato!! Fuck—!!”

You can’t recall exactly how you ended up with your ass in the air and your face pressed against Ayato’s bed.

After a couple weeks spent chatting during pick up duty, and consequently, after exchanging numbers, Ayato and you grew closer. Until tonight, where he had invited you over for dinner.

One thing lead to another, the same way he lead you to his bedroom, and now you found yourself whining his name as you writhed against the sheets.

“Well isn’t this a surprise? I didn’t expect you to have such a dirty mouth.” He remarked, slamming into your tight cunt even harder.

You moaned loudly, you were grateful that Akihiko was away at his aunt’s house for the weekend.

“Ayato…please…” You squirmed, pathetically. He pulled out and you keened at the sudden empty feeling.

He flipped you over so that you were laying on your back and he could have a good look at your pretty, tear-stricken face. His hands were placed on either side of your head, his strong arms supporting his weight.

“Please what? I can’t give you what you want if you don’t tell me.” He said, leaning in closer. His breath tickled your skin as he left feather light kisses on your chest.

“Please…fuck me,” you whined.

He chuckled, “Aren’t I fucking you right now, angel? Are you saying I’m doing a bad job?”

You threw your arms around his neck and pulled him down against you. You felt his tip nudging against your folds and you whimpered at the slight friction.

“Please, breed me. ‘Want you inside, wanna feel it inside.”

His dick throbbed at your words. If he had no self control, he would have ruined you right this second. He won’t deny, he was hoping you’d say that, hoping you felt the same way he did.

He raised himself up, “Is that it, angel? You want me to knock you up?”

You nodded, feverishly. He smirked and slowly lowered his head to your pussy. He placed a long, wet kiss against your clit, making you buck your hips up sporadically.

He chuckled again, pulling away. “Don’t worry, love,” he said, finally pushing himself in you, “I’ll make you a mommy.”

Your hands instinctively reached out to his shoulders, grabbing onto them to steady yourself as he bottomed out.

Slowly, he began pumping himself in and out of your sloppy cunt. Your past round making it easier for him to slip between your folds.

The sound of skin slapping skin began to fill the room, his thrusts growing harsher and faster. He took one of your hands that were hooked on his shoulder and held onto it as he leaned down.

“Do you feel that?” He whispered, deeply into your ear, guiding your hand towards the noticeable bulge in your abdomen. “Do you feel me inside you?”

“Ayato,” you cried out, he felt you tighten around his length.

“Oh? Does my naughty girl enjoy these lewd things?” He smiled and hoisted your legs up to rest on his shoulders, allowing him to reach even deeper within you.

“Ah! Ayato, r-right there!” You moaned, feeling the knot inside your stomach begin to form.

He practically folded you in half by now, his pelvis hitting your clit with every rut of his hips. He groaned, “You feel so good, precious.”

“A-ayato, ‘m close!!”

His hand met your clit and he started to rub it fervently, “Cum for me, cum all over my cock. Don’t you want to give Akihiko a sibling?”

“Yes, yes, yes,” you continued to babble nonsensically, feeling your sweet high approaching.

By the way Ayato’s thrusts were getting sloppier and out of rhythm, you could tell he was close too. The sound of his choked grunts also pushed you further off the edge.

With a cry of his name, your climax finally crashed as you came all over him. A white ring of your slick painted on the base of his cock.

Ayato threw his head back, panting heavily, “I’m—fuck—‘gonna cum.”

You were prepared to feel his warm seed fill your pussy up, but instead, he pulled out and stroked his length once, twice and came all over your stomach.

Tears pricked the corners of your eyes, you were clearly unsatisfied. You whined and squirmed beneath him, “Ayato, why’d you—“

He held your chin between his fingers, tilting your head up to face him.

“You didn’t think it would be that easy, did you?”

You sniffled and he wiped your stray tears away. He repositioned himself at your entrance, steadily rocking his hips again, making you hiss from how sensitive you were.

“If you want me to fill you up, you’ll have to work a lot harder than that, darling.”

written by yuenieve.

#eve.smut #ayato smut #kamisato ayato #kamisato ayato smut #genshin impact smut #genshin smut #ayato gi #ayato x reader #ayato x female reader #ayato oneshot #genshin ayato #ayato imagines #ayato scenarios #ayato x reader smut #genshin boys #genshin boys smut #dilf ayato #ceo ayato #smut #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x female reader #genshin impact ayato

[sashi-ya]

五 𝗦𝗘𝗡𝗦𝗘𝗦 𝗘𝗩𝗘𝗡𝗧: 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐖𝐡𝐢𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐬 ~ [+18] 𝚃𝚛𝚊𝚏𝚊𝚕𝚐𝚊𝚛 𝙻𝚊𝚠 𝚡 𝙵! 𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

✦ request: @jadedrrose asked: Congrats on 5.5k Sashi!! Can I request “Shivers through my spine when you whisper into my ear” with Law x fem reader? Thank you!! <3 ➜ thank you love!! hope you like what I wrote for you 💖 ✦ tw: NSFT. mdni. sex in a tent. thigh fucking. fingering. romantic. sexy ass Law whispering you as he fucks you. ✦ wc: 1k ✦ masterlist

I have you, and you and only you. Into my arms, I have you trapped. Whispering I speak of lust, while I make you mine. oh, so mine.

Hiking has left you exhausted, but to see the sunset at the top of the world next to him was worth it. Law, who you didn’t thought could have been such an expert in camping showed you otherwise, and in just a moment he put up a big fire.

The sky tints in as many orange and lilac shades existing. Your skins bathed by the golden hour and his arms surrounds your back in loving and protecting embrace.

“It was an amazing idea, Law” you murmur, mesmerized by the beauty of the cosmic dance that precedes the night.

Law sighs in peace; after all he is now calm; “We needed some time for us, (Name)-ya”

As the sun goes finally down, hiding on its deathbed, the sound of his breathing mixes with the crackling noises of the bonfire that promises to keep you warm all night. It is, certainly, beautiful, and simple; enjoying nature and his hug can’t compare to anything else in this life.

Kisses and strong hugs come before dinner. Dinner, that you prepared with so much love in little, tiny polar bear, bento boxes.

“Onigiri, without umeboshi for my sweet love” you chime, passing the box to him.

Law smiles with his eyes, though his lips are always pressed into a fine line. Is not that he is not happy; it is just how he is.

“Thanks~” he grabs it with inked fingers that you love.

And both chat about stuff you can’t even remember; the flames that reflect on his golden eyes are enough beauty for you to be absolutely distracted. And, don’t get him wrong, it is for Law the same way.

A yawn or two coming from you alert the surgeon. “Are you tired? Let’s go to sleep” he proposes standing up and lending you his hand.

You smile. You are tired, but you don’t want this day to be over. Not yet… just, not yet.

Law helps you stand up and both get into the tent. Is not super spacious, but it is big enough to fit both of you comfortably. The many comforters make the hard floor underneath to feel like a cloud. It is perfect for sleeping… but maybe for so much more.

You take the first layer of clothing. Since spring is here, the weather isn’t as cold as before. Wearing just a t-shirt and a pair of shorts, you snuggle into your side of the “bed”.

The doctor, however, takes his time to be as unconsciously sexy as possible. He unzips his blue windbreakers and takes it out, perfectly folding it and leaving it to the side. You, giggle, since your clothes are now laying on who knows where inside that tent crunched into a ball.

Law’s arms, exposed since he is wearing a white tank top, show the hearts tattooed near his shoulders. Slightly muscular, the caramel skin makes you smirk. How hot he is, and how unbothered he seems…

Then, his spotted jeans. You act all sleepy, but with just one eye open you take a sweet look at your lover’s body dressed in just white shirt and heart pattern boxers.

You scoff, trying to keep it silent. It’s too cute to see a man covered in tattoos and piercings wearing such cute boxers.

“What?” he asks, getting into “bed” next to you. “Nothing, nothing. Cute ~” you giggle, turning around. Now your back faces him as you get ready to sleep.

Law, with blushed cheeks, stays for a few seconds staring at your nape in silence. And then passes one of his arms over your waist to hug you in a big spoon way.

You smile, his warmth is always so welcomed. Your skin is always so needy for his, and this alone can be considered heaven.

“What’s so funny, hm?” he asks, whispering right into your ear as he nuzzles into your hair.

“N- nothing… your- your boxers” you joke, enjoying his presence behind you. Feeling how he comes so close to you, pressing his own body against yours.

“Do you think they are funny, (Name)-ya? Hm? Should I take them off so that you stop laughing? Or should I make you stop laughing in any other way?” Law questions, passing his palm through your belly, down towards your core.

The way his soft, low voice sounds right in your ear, so whispery… it makes you tremble, it makes shivers run through your spine.

You take a side look at his lips from the side. So tasty they look, you want to bite them.

The tip of your tongue peaks shily through your lips, expecting your lover to trap it. But Law wants to go painfully slow tonight, to torture in the best way he knows how to… step by step, to make you beg, to make you plead for his body.

Just the tip of his tongue reaches yours, so delicately pulling backwards almost immediately. It forms a little string of saliva in between you two, and the warmth of his and yours breaths caresses your neck and shoulder.

His inked fingers search for your heat, scrutinizing the soft and hot skin as they go down. When they found your labia, they simply stay there, simply tapping over them so slowly.

You moan and arch your back a little bit. Your body, unconsciously, searches for more. And it makes Law laugh so sexily.

“Hhm… what is it? You like this, (Name)-ya? You want more?” he whispers, making you nod in response.

You move your ass side to side, grazing his growing hardness that feels so big and yet doesn’t seem to get desperate until you have summit yourself into it first.

“Oh my, so desperate… and you were laughing a second ago… you want this?” he asks, finally dipping his fingertips into your pooling wetness. He plays with your arousal, knowing exactly where your clit is, and still acting as if you didn’t deserve it to be touched.

Your pelvis moves so that his fingers can finally touch your special spot, while your hand traps his, so it doesn’t move an inch from your sex. “Touch me, don’t make me wait no more…”

You rip yet another laughter from him. And it’s rare, but it’s always during these situations where he does it the most. And Lord, nothing sounds better than his whispery giggles.

“Desperate, (Name)-ya. You are desperate. You are such a sweet slut for me ~” he purrs, biting your shoulder while finally penetrating you with one and then two fingers.

Beckoning motions have you mercilessly falling into his hands, turning you into a total slave of his desires. Your moans are louder, and they mix with the sounds of the mountain outside. Where you can only hear crickets, frogs, and wind now the melody is complete with the symphony of your whines.

Law’s free hand reaches for your breast, squeezing and pumping. It accompanies the way his fingers do magic with your sex. His lips that barely graze your skin open, as he himself gropes against your ass in search for some relief.

“I want your cock in between my thighs…” you barely manage to ask. “Ugh- yes” he finally says, giving up control to let the warmth inside of your legs to receive his sex.

You trap his shaft so close to your sex with your legs, allowing enough space for him to move back and forth. It sprouts transparent arousal that wets your skin and mix with your already dripping ones. And it’s such a mess, and his whispery moans sound so good.  

“Fuck me…” “Lift your leg, let me fuck you...”

#trafalgar law headcanons #trafalgar law x reader #trafalgar law x you #trafalgar law scenarios #trafalgar law #law headcanons #trafalgar law smut #law smut #law one piece #law scenarios #law x reader #trafalgar law x y/n #law x you #law x y/n #law imagine #one piece smut #one piece x reader #one piece x reader smut #heart pirates law #law #one piece x you #op smut #op x reader #op scenario #op imagines #op law #law op

[intriq]

dc universe characters but your their ex, and they want you back

could be hurt/comfort, maybe fluff. angst? idk, unsure about how to label this one chief

if you want to see any other characters in here, lmk via comment or send me an ask! [they are always open for requests n stuff, so feel free to send them] and i'll make sure to get them in here!

Also, big thanks to my beta readers: Lilac, Void, My bestie, and bat brat apollo! they helped make sure these didn't fall too out of character.

‎‎‎‎‎ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ‎‎‎ㅤ╔⏤⏤⏤╝❀╚⏤⏤⏤╗

‎‎‎‎‎ㅤㅤBruce...

...at first, didn't realize just how miserable he'd feel after you guys broke up. Well, after he broke up with you.

He thought that you being possibly tied in to his life as Batman would make things oh so dangerous, and that maybe you'd be better off without him. And that just maybe he'd be better off without you.

But boy was he wrong.

After day one, he missed your presence.

After day three, he started missing your touch. Hugs, kisses, cuddles, the works.

After one week he missed seeing you whenever he came back to Wayne manor after patrol or whenever he'd had a long day being out and about Gotham, whether as just his regular self or patrolling the streets, fighting crime as Batman.

By week two, not even focusing on patrolling could keep you off his thoughts. It didn't exactly help that he knew your schedule. Actually, not even just knew. He had it memorized.

So he'd find himself particularly drawn to patrolling the area around where you lived more often, sometimes even doubling back to the area. Sometimes even three times.

Of course, it took a full month [and seeing you going on your first date since the break-up] for him to take action. He'd started sending gifts at first. Small things that you liked, whether it be books or lots and lots of flowers.

Then the gifts just got more and more expensive, more grandeur. After all, he is a billionaire, so it wouldn't hurt his bank account. Plus, it was a gift for you. So why wouldn't he?

If you still didn't take him back then, he starts sending you texts. Just cute little things such as "i miss you" and whatnot.

And then the in-person confessions, gift giving, and what-not started after. He'd drop by [after making sure no one was around to see at least three times] your apartment while he was in his full Batman getup, bringing you some smaller, easier to hide away things like bracelets and necklaces.

And during the day, he'd be where ever he'd knew you'd be. Whether it was your apartment, your job, anywhere, he'd personally come deliver you yet another gift.

Takeout from your favorite place? He's brought it to you for lunch.

He saw you post about something [whether it be a stuffed animal, jewelry, etc] on social media because it's cool or cute? It's been hand delivered to you by him.

"I saw you talking about how much you wanted these, so I got them for you. Why..? Because I miss you."

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ➶ ｡˚ 　　°

‎‎‎‎‎ㅤㅤTim...

...was devastated when you broke up with him. He didn't realize that all this work being a vigilante that made him miss out on oh so many dates had taken as big of a toll on your relationship as it did.

And by the time he'd realized, the cracks had already formed, and you'd broken up with him. You wanted a partner who could meet you half-way, even if he was a little busy at times.

But that didn't stop him from immediately trying to win you back. Gifts? You've got it. Whether they were bought or handmade, it didn't really matter. He'd get you something.

Not to mention the texts, phone calls, voicemails, everything. He's going the full nine yards to show you just how sorry he is, and just how badly he wants you back.

"I know I've said I was sorry so many times, but I really am! I promise I'll do everything in my power to be there for our date nights, so please take me back.."

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ➶ ｡˚ 　　°

‎‎‎‎‎ㅤㅤDick...

...definitely wasn't expecting for you to break up with him. Sure, he's been in plenty of relationships before, but he'd never expected you to get the courage to tell him you wanted to break up.

He didn't even realize he missed you as much as he did until one night while patrolling, a month or two after your break-up, he saw you walking along the streets of Gotham.

And damn were you still as pretty as the first time he saw you. In fact, scratch that, as pretty as the last time he saw you. Which was when you broke up with him.

So from then on, when Gotham is just a little less quiet and he can afford to do a little slacking off, he walks with you. You had this weird routine of walking for an hour at night, anyway.

At first he made small-talk. Asked you how your day was, why you were taking a walk [he already knew why. he just wanted to hear that pretty voice of yours more!], how you'd been since the break-up, if you were seeing anyone [this was extremely important and he'd express why after a bit of prompting], as one does.

Then it ramps up to him telling you how much he missed you, how pretty and attractive you were still, the works. He then ramps up to just blatant flirting, maybe even making sure he was touching you in some way, like an arm around your shoulder. Or maybe even subtly holding your hand under the premise of him wanting to show you something that you didn't know the way to.

And after that, if you still didn't miss him enough to take him back? He's just obvious. Asking you on dates, showing up to your home with gifts, everything. He'll go the whole nine yards for you, just so you'll take him back.

"Aww, c'mon! Just one date, sweetheart. Please? I promise that if you don't want me back after just one date I won't bother you again."

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ➶ ｡˚ 　　°

‎‎‎‎‎ㅤㅤJason...

...definitely didn't want to admit he wanted you back until it's been nearly six months since you broke up, and words going around that your starting to date again.

This pisses him off, for reasons he wasn't sure about.

So before you know it, he's popping up just about everywhere. Getting him to admit he missed you and regretted the breakup is no easy feat, and you'll likely not ever get him to admit it out loud.

I can't really see Jason making any grand or large gestures, just small little ones that maybe have some sort of sentimental value.

He'd probably drop by your home every now and then. If he's hurt in some way, you bet your ass he's right there on your fire escape, knocking on your window to let him in.

Even if it's just something so incredibly minor he could take care of himself, he's using it as an excuse to see you again.

While he's not totally experienced with being overly romantic, he's got his moments of being just a little bit sappy.

"Why go through the hard work and trouble of finding someone else if I'm right here?"

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ➶ ｡˚ 　　°

‎‎‎‎‎ㅤㅤBabs...

...wasn't expecting to miss you after you two broke things off. She figured she'd be fine on her own, but she was quickly proven wrong.

I can see her giving gifts, but she'd be more-so trying to spend as much time as she could with you. Texts, both early morning and late night phone calls, voicemails about how much she regrets breaking up, and probably more.

Lot's of "I miss you" and "I still like/love you" texts, maybe some "Can we please get back together?" texts mixed as well.

She'll make how much she misses you known.

"Please come back, I miss our little movie date nights."

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ➶ ｡˚ 　　°

‎‎‎‎‎ㅤㅤStephanie...

...is just like Jason in a way, when it comes to realizing she misses having you around.

But she does come to terms with the fact that she misses you. She'll be a little hesitant to admit it in words, but she'll make it known in small gestures.

The breakup was definitely amicable, so you two are kind of just awkwardly still friends. But any time you two hangout, it borderlines being a date.

Movies? Only if it's something that will remind you of stuff you two liked to watch together when you were dating.

Going for a walk? She'll make sure you two just so happen to pass by a spot you guys went to for your first date.

She'll even still pretend to "accidentally" call you by the nicknames she had for you whilst you were dating.

But if even that doesn't work, she'll just start making you two "hangout" at places you've gone to for dates before.

"Wow, this place hasn't changed a bit since the last time we were here, huh? Brings back memories."

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ➶ ｡˚ 　　°

‎‎‎‎‎ㅤㅤCassandra...

...of course, isn't really sure what to do when she notices she's missing you. You were probably one of her first relationships, which just only adds onto her confusion of what to do.

She'd probably go seek Babs and Stephanie out for advice, asking them what they think she should do. Just what she should do.

After getting advice from the two, she thinks it over for a little bit before she starts anything. She probably also tries to feel you out to check if you feel the same way she does.

And if you do, or if she finds out your unsure, she starts giving you small gifts. And I mean small. Just mostly little trinkets and knickknacks that she finds while out and about.

Buttons? Pins? Small figurines, no bigger than the palm of your hand? She's getting them for you.

Of course, this is to help her just get a little confidence before she drops the question about getting back together.

And when she does drop the question, she tries to make it sound like she's being genuine. She probably brought another small little gift, maybe one of your favorite snacks.

"I know you said you liked these when we were together, right? I know you may think I wasn't really.. paying attention, but most of the time, but I promise I was. And I'm sorry I didn't do that great of a job of showing you that I cared about you. Please take me back?"

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ➶ ｡˚ 　　°

‎‎‎‎‎ㅤㅤKate Kane..

...is both similar to Stephanie and Jason. While she'll think she's better off without you, there's almost a constant reminder of you somewhere in her world.

And it just draws her back to you.

It's very much a push and pull sort of thing with her, as some days she's fully willing to admit just how much she misses you and wants you back, while others she'd never admit to even a word of it.

She'll also bring you sentimental gifts sometimes. Mostly just leaves them somewhere she knows only you will find them with a little note attached.

Though the contents of the little notes will greatly vary from "I miss you", "I know you like these so I got them for you", to just her name sometimes.

Saw these and thought of you. -K

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ➶ ｡˚ 　　°

‎‎‎‎‎ㅤㅤDinah Lance...

...is most definitely bold and maybe even a little bit flirty. When she realized that she definitely wasn't ready to move on from you quite yet, she put all her effort into wooing you back.

She'd probably try to play off the fact you two are suddenly running into each other at things you like, it's really just so she can see you again. Making you unintentionally [but kind of purposefully] think of her again whenever you thought about the things you like.

After a bit of this, though, she just downright starts asking you out to dates. If she knows certain places hold sentimental value because they were your favorite date spots with her, she'll ask you on a date to there again.

"Oh? Didn't know you were coming here today. Maybe it's a sign you should just let me take you on a date today."

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ➶ ｡˚ 　　°

‎‎‎‎‎ㅤㅤHelena Bertinelli...

...wasn't usually the type to dwell on her exes. But you? You were all that was on her mind after the breakup.

While she spends many a night deleting text after text, trying to come up with the right set of sentences to tell you just how much she misses you and wants you back, she does eventually send something.

And from there she just gets a little bolder.

Lingering touches, like her hand grazing against yours if you are handing her something. Staring at you for just a few seconds longer than needed, all that stuff.

It does take her a bit of time to get the confidence to just straight up asking you out on another date, though when she does, she's already got it all planned out.

"Do you still like that one restaurant we went to for our anniversary? .... Why? Oh, well, I wanted to make sure I didn't need to cancel the reservation I made."

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ➶ ｡˚ 　　°

‎‎‎‎‎ㅤㅤDiana

...didn't have thoughts of missing you. At first.

She did start thinking of you again when you two were assigned on a mission together. And all it did was really get you stuck in her head.

The way you looked, whether it was the way you fight or just generally how you look in your vigilante costume? It just kept replaying in her head over and over again.

So now anytime your out and about doing your own thing, under your vigilante guise? She's found an excuse to be joining you.

Whether that excuse is "you looked like you needed help", or "my patrols been pretty quiet, so I thought I'd join you", she's always got some excuse you can't argue back about.

Eventually she starts dropping hints about wanting to get back together with you. But whether she's good at dropping these hints or not is entirely up to how oblivious you could be.

Eventually she just tires out of dropping hints and just makes you look at her when she just drops the question. Think of the classic "grabbing your chin and turning your head to look at them" kind of deal.

"How about we go out this Sunday, hmm? ... Yes, on a date. What, did you think I was going to ask you to patrol with me or something?"

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ➶ ｡˚ 　　°

‎‎‎‎‎ㅤㅤDamian...

...most definitely is stubborn when it comes to your break-up. He doesn't even want to entertain the thought that the reason he might be so grouchy whenever he sees you talking to someone else, or hears about how you may be crushing on someone else, is because he misses you. And is jealous, of course.

Even the sheer mention of your name around him, whether it be from his older brothers [mainly Dick because he is most certainly the teasing older brother type], he get's all grouchy and almost pouty.

He does try to help you out around school, though. He may act all mean and cold towards you, he'll act like he's "reluctantly" helping you out.

"you can't be trusted to carry this stuff," he'll try and say as he takes that stack of chairs, books, whatever it is in your hands away to do it himself. His hidden little agenda is that he's hoping you'll miss him because of him helping you out.

His "compliments" aren't always easily understood as such, though. "You didn't do terrible, for once" he might say as he hands you your graded test.

In order for him to get the courage to ask you out again, though, will definitely take some coaxing. [And maybe some teasing from Dick, too]

But when he does, it's a 50/50 chance of him saying it in a sweet way, or in his usual cold and almost brat-like demeanor.

"If I take you out on a date, will that get you to shut up for at least five minutes?"

‎‎‎‎‎ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ‎‎‎ㅤ╚⏤⏤⏤╗❀╔⏤⏤⏤╝

#oneshot #gender neutral reader #dc universe #bruce wayne #tim drake #diana prince #cassandra cain #damian wayne #babs #barbara gordon #stephanie brown #dick grayson #richard grayson #jason todd #kate kane #dinah lance #helena bertinelli #x reader #gn reader #diana x reader #barbara x reader #barbara gordon x reader #kate kane x reader #jason todd x reader #stephanie brown x reader #cassandra cain x reader #damian wayne x reader #dick grayson x reader #richard grayson x reader #dinah lance x reader

[kishibe-kisser]

Hi!! May I request for fluff with Baizhu and a reader who works at the funeral parlor (maybe a relative to Hu Tao?)

Either way, I hope you have a nice day!

Sorry this took so long to write! i was wracked for inspiration.

Tags: gn!reader x Baizhu, fluff, reader needs more than a painkiller for a headache, and that's about it, Changsheng is a little bit of a smartass.

Word count: 1066

Your head was absolutely throbbing, every step you took making it effectively worse. Going into work was absolutely out of the question, the funeral parlor would simply have to wait and so would Hu Tao. You needed medical attention because this wasn't good anymore, simple painkillers weren't taking care of it.

You could hear Hu Tao in your head as you ascended the steps to BuBu Pharmacy, warning you, yelling at you to turn around and that she could help you even though you knew she couldn't. She just really didn't want you to look for help from the pharmacist. Personally, you had never met Baizhu but you couldn't help but think your cousin was exagerating. You needed help and well, you were willing to risk it.

"So many stairs." You mumbled, the top coming into sight as you felt yourself getting lightheaded. Stumbling a little, you placed your hands on the step in front of you, trying everything in your power not to pass out, not when you were this close to the top. "Are you alright?" A smooth, calm voice asked as you were trying to stay steady. "Not particularly." You said in return, finding a way to maneuver your body so that you were sitting down on the step instead.

Looking up at the owner of the voice, you found yourself swallowing thickly. The light lilac snake around his neck being a beautiful contrast to his green hair. "Baizhu?" You asked, squinting your eyes at the throbbing headache. "You know me, I don't believe we've met however." He crouched in front of you, golden eyes scanning your face. It was undoubtedly clear that you weren't feeling well, your skin completely devoid of color. "But that doesn't matter right now, let's get you help." He added on before you could speak again, picking you up princess style before you could even object not that you particularly could, the sunlight being way too bright. Opening your eyes even hurt.

The sunlight went away when you were brought inside, not into the front of the pharmacy, but the back. A little room with a bed, desk and privacy screen.

"There we go, I assume you were coming to see me." He said, smiling at you softly as he laid you down on the bed. The lighting made it easier for you to look at him, finding your cheeks heating up at the sight of him hovering over you. "Yes, I've had this splitting headache for days and it won't go away." You said and he stood up again, clearing his throat as he wandered to his desk. "Okay, I'll run some tests to see what I can do for you." He grabbed a little light to check your pupils.

"So, you know me but I don't know you. How is that?" He asked, helping you sit up and looking over your face. It seemed some color had returned to your face by simply being inside and not on the stairs. You were good looking, even in your sickly state Baizhu could see that. If he had seen you around before, he most definitely would have remembered you.

"I work at the funeral parlor." You winced when the light reached your eyes, Baizhu reaching out to hold your hand gently for comfort. "Hu Tao's my cousin." You admitted and the pharmacist couldn't help but laugh. "That's you why didn't come to me when this started." He said and you nodded, continuing with his tests. "Yes Hu Tao has become quite mixologist for my head ache, she doesn't know I'm here." You told him and he nodded his head.

"Well I think she'd throw an absolute fit if she knew you visited me for help." He was smiling at the thought and you couldn't help but find it endearing how he enjoyed messing with your cousin. "I think you're right." You laughed only to immediately stop and clutch your head, shooting pain making you whimper. Baizhu frowned, not enjoying that you were clearly in pain and excused himself for a moment.

"You like them." Changsheng remarked as the pharmacist mixed together herbs and prepared a cool compress. "Be quiet." He shot back, getting flushed at the snake's deduction. "Their cousin will give you Hell." The snake pressed on further and Baizhu sighed, knowing she was right. "What Hu Tao doesn't know won't hurt her, besides what am I supposed to do? Not treat her cousin? They can barely keep their eyes open." He said, taking the medication he had concocted and shushing the snake further as he re-entered the back room.

"You're not like Hu Tao describes." You remarked as the cool compress was pressed to your forehead, laying back down in the bed. "In a good way I hope." He grinned and nodded, holding the compress to your forehead. "I have no qualms with Hu Tao, she seems to absolutely despise me. Considering you're family, I thought you might do the same." He added on and tilted your head up for you to drink the bitter medicine he had made you. "We might be family but our ideologies don't always align." You said once you finished grimacing from the taste.

The medicine nearly instantly took effect, however also making you drowsy, finding it more and more difficult to keep your eyes open as you spoke with Baizhu.

"One of the reason's for your headache was fatigue, so I gave you something to help you rest as well." He explained, noticing your fifth yawn in the last 2 minutes. "Oh." You said in realisation, giving him a lazy smile as you decided to stop fighting the drowsiness. "I want you to rest here, where it's peaceful and quiet and you can't be disturbed. We want you back on your feet quickly." He patted your hand as he spoke and you felt your cheeks heating up again. "Are you always this quick with remedies?" You asked him, curling up in the blankets he had provided for you.

"Yes, but I particularly want you back on your feet quickly." He admitted, ignoring the look Changsheng was giving him. "Why's that?" You laughed, feeling butterflies in your stomach for the way he was looking at you.

"Well, the faster you're on your feet again, the faster I can treat you to a meal and maybe we can call it a date."

#genshin reaction #genshin x reader #baizhu #baizhu x reader

[cheesus-doodles]

Going Home: Chapter 3

Yandere Platonic Toman + Time Leaper Darling

Masterlist

‎

Going Home: Chapter 1 | 2

Thank you all for your patience! Sorry I've been a bit quieter than usual, been working on this chapter as and when I have the time, super excited and relief to finally get this out there! Enjoy! :) p.s. it’s pretty late, editing tomorrow, thanks for understanding!

Catching Kazutora’s fist with a quick flash of his own arm, the already bulging vein on Draken’s forehead that had been throbbing for the better half of a day looked like it was on the verge of finally popping. “Hey, hey! Knock it off already!” It was a line he had repeated countless numbers of times today alone, yet the words didn’t seem to sink into the other with black-and-yellow hair, those unblinking eyes fixated on a head of lilac hair on the other end of the picnic bench, though Kazutora reluctantly retreated back to his assigned corner under the tired glare, away from a weary Mtisuya.

“And don’t you even think about it,” Draken snapped without even turning, and Mikey reluctantly sank back down into his seat, tightly clenched fists disappearing under the sun-bleached wood of a school bench. Despite the gloomy mood that hung heavy over the Toman boys back home and unknowingly separated from you by twelve long years, the weather seemed to disagree with their somber thoughts; the sun was bright yet the air was cool, a breeze rustling the leaves of overhead trees with the occasional joyful ray of light breaking through a generous canopy and onto miserable faces. A beautiful day by all accords for an absolutely horrible, worst-case situation.

Letting out a wretched sigh, the usually stoic Vice President dragged one hand down his face, the other clutching a comparatively small phone. He understood, he really did - after all he was as much trapped in the same unenviable situation as the rest of his fellow founders. Exhausted, anxious, an insatiable boiling rage in his gut, and the need to beat anyone and anything that stood in his path.

You were gone. Vanished without a trace in the middle of the day from outside your school in the single half-hour they weren’t by your side. There was little doubt that like him, the rest were still beating themselves up a day later over wasting precious time, having decided to wait for you outside the gates by their bikes instead of rushing straight in to look for you. After all, it was uncommon for you to run even a minute late from your classes; you never liked to keep your boys waiting for longer than necessary. And with Mitsuya having been the last to have seen you before your disappearance, walking you back and dropping you off at your classroom right after lunch, it was obvious that everyone’s initial suspicion would have been pinned directly on his other Twin Dragon no matter how ridiculous that idea sounded to Draken.

Because where else could you possibly have gone?

There surely was no stone in Shibuya that the panicked Toman founders had left unturned in their day and night comb of the city, yet they failed to find even a whiff of your presence. No school bag, no shoes, things that you usually had on your person had vanished along with you - it was as if you had simply vanished from the face of the earth, yet your house was undisturbed without a single item missing or out of place, nor did any of very vigilant your neighbors see you enter or leave. A kidnapping? A rival gang that had perhaps seen you with them one too many times, and decided to whisk you away as a hostage? Maybe a random street grab-and-run? Unlikely, given none of your schoolmates reported seeing any suspicious vehicles around the time of your disappearance (under the threat of a very painful death that is) and Toman had yet to receive any demands - Draken scratched that off his mental list.

Or worse, did you somehow find out about what your precious friends had been up to behind your back and decided to run away? It was a constant unspoken fear among the Toman founders, that you would decide one day to leave and never come back should you ever find out what they had been doing behind your back. But it was just another struck from the list; no chance that they wouldn't have known the moment you found out, given you always wore your heart on your sleeve.

So what did that leave? The blond-haired boy, a steadfast and strong presence that the Tokyo Manji Gang rallied around, barely knew where to go from here. Yet no matter how much his mind and heart yearned to get out and help with the search, his body was still weak and recovering from his near-death incident just a week prior: handling Kazutora and Mikey already took whatever strength he had left. Even if it was Draken who did manage to find you, he would imagine you wouldn’t be too happy to see him already out and about - all he had left was his brain.

The warm sunlight that bathed their skin felt more like a scornful, satirical imitation of your hug, the crowds thronging Tokyo City uncaring of their plight.

How did everything go wrong so quickly? It was supposed to be all uphill from here - Takemitchy had saved his life and been rewarded with Mikey’s first ever Toman uniform, and you, despite trying to save him yourself had thankfully walked away with a small but heartbreaking wound and scar on your hand; a clear reminder of their failure to protect you from their dark world.

Dropping back into his seat at the table, Draken set his uninspiringly quiet phone down with a thud. “Any new ideas?”

‎

And apparently that was the wrong question to ask, and the taut tension finally exploded, the wooden bench groaning and shuddering under Kazutora’s open palms as the duo-colored haired delinquent slammed both hands down, jumping to his feet. The words that spilled off his lips, combined with that unblinking stare, were toxic enough to kill. “I know it’s fucking you, isn’t it Mitsuya. You’re hiding her!”

A straight, unflinching accusation, one that said boy, no matter how level-headed, wasn’t going to take lying down. “Huh?! Are you dumb?” A vein on Mitsuya’s forehead began to bulge as he tried and failed to swallow the boiling anger. “I walked her all the way back to class! Why would I be here if I knew where she was?!”

“You said she needed more space, let her attend class in peace,” Kazutora spat back, though the tinge of desperation that underlied his tone and those dreadfully dark eyebags was abundantly clear. “We wouldn’t be in this position if we didn’t.”

If they didn’t let you run off and do whatever you wanted, unspoken words that all of them, both present around the bench and away searching, knew and carried in their heavy hearts. No one could shake the guilt.

And then a different voice speaking up had Draken’s gut sinking further. “How do we know its not you, Kazutora?” Questioned Mikey, unblinking eyes staring down said boy, who spun round to face the Toman President.

“Me?!”

The gang was falling apart without you, and the Toman Vice President could only wonder how long more they could last. He hoped you were at least safe and dry wherever you were.

‎

‎

Separated from the woes of your delinquent friends by simple time, you were far from free from your own problems.

“Does it still hurt?”

“Not any more. I’m fine, Mikey, really. See?” you sighed out, running your bandaged hand through his crown of white hair, the other resting on the handle of an oil strainer, the gentle sound of food sizzling the only sound to be heard amidst this otherwise lifeless stainless steel environment that formed the ginormous kitchen you found yourself in. Your friend seemed less than inclined to believe you though, arms wrapped firmly around your waist as he leaned into your chest, careful to avoid brushing against your neck.

“But it did just now,” he mumbled back into your clothes, and you couldn't deny that - you could still feel those hands clamping around your throat, quavering dilated eyes squeezing down with the intent to kill.

It had been a good hour since the doctor had left after being immediately summoned from the infirmary to Mikey’s room to carefully and professionally assess your injuries under the watchful eyes of the white-haired man. An ointment for the ugly blue and purple bruising that littered your neck and a tight bandage wrap for your wound that was torn in the scuffle, and you were given the green light to resume regular activities, whatever that meant in light of what had just happened. Knowing Mikey, you would be lucky to ever be left alone anytime in the next week, let alone ever again. You hadn’t forgotten the look of utter fear that had washed over your friend’s face, the way he raced through winding hallways with you bundled in his arms, as if you were already on death’s door and tempted to cross the threshold. Because how could you? There wasn’t a single instance you remember ever seeing such a raw emotion pass Mikey’s face in all your time spent with your Toman friends, and you weren’t keen on seeing it again.

Yet all you had taken away from the whole incident were more and more questions; questions whose answers you knew would maybe start to solve the mystery of where you were and what had happened, yet questions you had no doubt would, at best, break Mikey’s heart if you asked. What to do indeed? Mentally shaking yourself out from the neverending spiral of thoughts, you turned your thoughts back to the present. Though, your lips twitching upwards, the irony of the other’s insistence at your apparently debilitating injury at the moment wasn’t lost on you - he hadn’t so much as mentioned the possibility of your bandages getting dirty when you were battering the chicken parts just a few minutes ago. “So I suppose I should stop frying and get some rest then?”

A noise that sounded like a cross between a snort and a whimper, and those abyss eyes instantly whipped up to meet yours. You couldn’t help the giggle that slipped out at the absolutely pathetic pout he had on his face, his grip on your shirt tightening further. “I didn’t say that!” he protested. “Take that back!”

“Yes, yes,” You rolled your eyes, that familiar indulgent smile spreading across your face. Despite everything, he was still your Mikey. “I was kidding, Mikey.”

But your wince at the flare of pain as you turned to press a kiss to the top of Mikey’s forehead, as much as you tried to hide it, wasn’t missed, the man gently guiding your head to face forward once more, childish whine fading into a quiet concerned mutter. “Don’t turn if it hurts.”

The kitchen fell back into a comfortable silence, you humming that old croony love song under your breath as you reverted your attention to your cooking, nudging Mikey back slightly when his hand got a little too close for comfort as you shook the oil off the crisp chicken pieces, settling them down top of a tray you had found in one of countless drawers. Steel surfaces marred with scratches and dulled from wear and tear told their own stories of the days spent toiling away here by unknown souls. You weren’t sure when those clingy arms had released you long enough for the white-haired man to wander back with plates, but the clinging of porcelain together as you rescued the last lonely karaage from the boiling sea of oil told you everything you needed to - you were certain your friend would demand payment for his “help” in the form of attention and cuddles later on.

Though there was not much time to think about that now either, not when you barely had enough to pick up your precious tray before Mikey started to insistently tug at your sleeve, leading you a surprisingly short distance through two doorways which opened up into a relatively homely-looking dining room. Decked out in simple but nonetheless exquisite walnut-wood furniture and a rug that reminded you of your own room back home, it was a stark contrast to the grandeur of the upper floors the two of you had descended from, the plain walls home to a single mirror and the round dining table a vase of flowers. “Sit here,” he insisted, and you obliged, dropping into the cushioned seat, to which Mikey immediately attempted to climb into your lap.

“Mikey!” Letting out an oof as your entire vision was suddenly filled with nothing but the black shirt your friend seemed to always wear, you swore you heard the chair underneath you groan with the weight of two. “Too heavy!”

A rustle and several mild thuds later, the pressure on your thighs was somewhat alleviated, with the white-haired man finally settling down, opting to sit only on your lap while resting his legs across both yours and the neighboring chairs’ armrests. To any other pair of discerning eyes, it would look almost as if you were cradling him, like a mother would their child, and you certainly were to an extent - but to you, it was very much just business as usual.

Just Mikey being the needy friend you remember from yesterday morning albeit looking a bit different. Even down to him now prying your fingers open to force a spoon into your grip, you knew it was your dear friend behind this facade of white hair and gaunt hands.

‎

But, your mind whispered against your heart’s protest, was that all that was different? Was the man in your lap truly the Mikey you thought you knew?

Even as you absentmindedly spooned a chunk of fried chicken into the awaiting mouth of the former Toman President, your thoughts couldn’t help but wander back towards that incident just a few hours prior, and even with your valiant attempts to ward them off, barricade them away, your brain remained firmly stuck. You simply had to know what happened - your own memory drawing a blank from the time between Sanzu suddenly attacking you and finding yourself clutched in Mikey’s arms, corridors whirling past your shaky, blurred vision. It was just for your peace of mind, you tried to reassure yourself as you plucked up your courage; you swore you wouldn’t change anything about how you thought about your friend no matter what you learnt.

"Mikey, about Sanzu- '' You hesitated as that carefree smile was instantly wiped from his face as he turned to face you fully, any sense of playfulness the other had drained away in a heartbeat.

Despite his eyes being empty like they always were, they were a blank slate to anyone but you, the growing anger behind the facade of uncaringness was as clear as a lit neon sign in the midst of a winter night, a 180 from the carefree friend just a second earlier before you opened your mouth. The room temperature plummeted with those narrowing eyes, the quiet whirl of cold air from above only adding to the sudden chill of the room. “I told you to go straight to my room and not to talk to anybody. You disobeyed me.”

There was something about the way those words spilled out that frightened you - you had never been scared of any of your friends before, never Mikey - but there was no other way to explain how you felt in that moment, though you didn’t quite understand why. Maybe it was that icy look of lingering contempt for that poor pink-haired man, or maybe it was how menacing his aura had become, an almost overwhelming, radiating sensation of power.

But this time, against your mind screaming to roll over and give in, you pressed on. Mikey wasn’t going to hurt you. "What happened Mikey? I don’t remember much."

“He deserves it.” The hiss of words that came out were unlike anything you have heard spill from his lips, the way the usually hidden shadows crept up onto his face to accentuate that hard look only making the other seem more a stranger than anyone you knew. “How dare he lay his filthy hands on you.”

You’ve always known how overprotective your friends were, but this seemed extreme - had they always been this way? Or was this new, and you were actually in the future? Were your friends hiding something from you? Forcing yourself to squash down the questions that kept bubbling up, you instead focused your attention on the most recent events; if you asked all that ate away at your heart, you were sure you and Mikey would be all night, and you weren’t going to last that long in this cold that started to bite away at your bones. And the one question that you simply had to ask despite your sinking gut telling you that you probably wouldn’t like the answer: that echoing sound of gunfire that you could hear at the edge of consciousness after which Sanzu was wrenched off you, was that real or just your imagination? “Isn’t he your friend? D-did you shoot him?”

Unable to stop the shiver that seemed to shake your entire body before you got your answer, the empty spoon you had been holding fell back onto the porcelain with a clink as you instinctively rubbed both hands against your arms, and the white-haired man paused. The spell over the room broke, the tension lifting as quickly as it had weighed down on your shoulders. “I did what I needed to.” His answer came almost gently though with a sense of finality, one bony hand reaching out to ever so delicately grasp your hand even as he pressed his face into the crook of your neck, his other hand comfortingly rubbing circles into your back. “I’ll do anything to protect you.”

You believed him. Mikey did scare you for that few minutes, you wouldn’t lie to yourself, and you wouldn’t be getting any more answers, but you still believed him. That didn’t mean you agree with what he did of course, but you had promised yourself you wouldn’t treat such a dear friend any differently no matter what you learnt. Letting out a sigh, the warmth of the room slowly returned much like the rising of the sun after a frigid winter night, and you shuffled yourself slightly in an attempt to get comfortable while still balancing Mikey’s weight on your lap. Time for a change of topic, and you wondered out loud the first thought that came to mind. “Where’s Ken-chin and the others?” You hummed, reaching round the sulking man to spoon another lump of chicken and rice.

“Don’t wanna talk about that,” came his muttered answer, and your heart sank - there was just too much you didn’t know, and ignorance was proving not to be very blissful. Yet you didn’t push that either, not after such an intense day for both you and Mikey, though fortunately that seemed to bring other more acceptable ideas to his mind, and the man pulled away to look you up and down. “You need clothes.”

You blinked. “Clothes?” You still had clean clothes from your home.

“New clothes,” he declared, pulling the spoon to his face and chomping down, before continuing to speak with a mouth full of food. “We’ll have a party next week, I’ll introduce you to everyone, so let’s go shopping later.”

That same indulgent smile emerged once more, you letting out a laugh as you dabbed away from Mikey’s round cheeks the morsels of rice that made it out. “Alright Mikey. Chew and swallow first, okay?”

‎

Once the last morsels of food had disappeared into Mikey’s mouth and you had left the empty plate atop the dining table with much reluctance at his insistence, you were once more led down those same neverending corridors, delicate unbandaged hand held ever so gently in the other’s. On a good note you mused, glancing around your luxurious surroundings, you were at least beginning to recognise the few corridors you were walked down: the corridor that Mikey’s room was along, the large white-and-blue porcelain vase that denoted where you should turn for the bathroom, and the next corridor over the one that the two of you had walked towards the kitchens.

The hallways that stretched and winded away beyond your view, hiding in its unknown depths the allure of adventure and unmade friends, was tempting to say the least, but no matter your urge to wander and explore, you knew Mikey would never let you; and alas you were right, the man leading you straight back to the worn wooden door. With a promise of a short thirty minute wait for him to make a few calls and have everything set out before your little outing, there would usually be no reason for you to disagree. But this time there was somewhere you wanted to be, somewhere you needed to be to settle the guilt eating away at your heart with those precious few minutes of potential freedom.

“I feel bad, Mikey. I wanna apologize,” you protested right at the threshold of the room, with Mikey hovering right in front of you and taking quick glances up and down the corridor, anxious to get you inside. “Sanzu got hurt because of me.”

The other stayed resolute in his decision though, as you knew he would even in light of the very strong pout on your face. He never was really that weak to your puppy eyes like you were to theirs, you supposed, lightly touching the bag of extra karaage in your pocket you had snuck aside to give to Sanzu. “No. You stay here.”

“But Mikey-”

“He’s dangerous,” came the blunt answer, his grip around you tightening ever so slightly as he tugged insistingly at your sleeve, trying to guide you into the permanently darkened room. “And resting. No.”

You sighed, allowing yourself to be ushered into his room; there was no way you were going to win this fight. “Alright, alright.” Guess you'll just have to eat the karaage yourself.

“Thirty minutes, max.” Mikey swore, his hand on the doorknob with the door halfway closed. “I’ll be done in thirty. Just need to sort some things out.”

A click of the lock, and you found yourself once more alone, swallowed into the shadows. The minutes went by slowly, one second crawling by after another. After repeatedly sitting and standing up from the bed in an attempt to think of something to do, you were finally bored enough to explore the little area, though that didn't help alleviate your boredom much. Mikey’s room was sparse. There was no other way to put it nicely, you grimaced, pushing the near-empty drawer back into its slot, before closing the wardrobe door behind you with a soft thud where the wood met. Even with the little light that seeped in under the door, it was obvious that your friend had few belongings, and even fewer if you didn't count clothes.

It broke your heart. Plain walls with no windows, few things to call his own, and this miserable, constant darkness. Sure this wasn't the Mikey you knew, but it was still Mikey. What had he been going through?

Flopping back onto the bed, you let out a breath. You knew your 'return' had brought him a semblance of relief, but you couldn't stay here forever. You didn’t belong here - and you were sure your Toman friends were waiting for you back home. Was there anything more you could do to ease the pain he carried? Closing your eyes, the darkness behind your eyelids wasn't too different from the room's.

And without a sound or another word, you vanished.

‎ ‎

‎ ‎

Across the city and tucked away in a quieter neighborhood, the same sun that was all but hidden from you behind the labyrinth of walls that made up Bonten’s headquarters shone prominently through open windows, though the fresh minds that the new day brought after a good night’s sleep didn’t quite seem to help ease the conundrum that the two men pouring over a whiteboard were stuck in.

“But what makes you think the other time leaper is her?” The former delinquent mumbled, letting out a sigh as he straightened for a quick stretch, his joints rusty from the week-long lack of movement after his latest lap in the past. “It could be anyone - maybe even Kisaki.”

“Yes, I get that, but she’s the most reasonable explanation here,” Naoto retorted, turning away from the picture of your smiling face staring back at him from the whiteboard. “The bounty appeared the day you said she disappeared.”

“Are you sure? It could be that you just missed the bounty previously. You mentioned that your memories weren’t changed like the last time I timeleaped?”

It seemed almost impossible to comprehend, the detective understood: the mere idea that there were not one, but two time leapers who could both individually change the future, it was hard to swallow to say the least. But it was the reality that they had to contend with and work around, and the faster Takemichi could bring his mind around to that, the faster they could start solving this mystery and change his sister’s future. Fortunately for the already irate Naoto, the annoyance that was starting to show clearly enough on his face that the other was quick to back down from his claims, Takemichi throwing up his hands in surrender. “Alright, alright, so let’s go forward with the assumption that the other time leaper is her. Nothing’s changed since Draken’s - Ken Ryuguji’s - death was prevented, but do you think he is alive now?”

A lightbulb went off behind Naoto’s eyes, and he rocketed from his seat, the former delinquent almost toppling off his seat at the sudden movement. “Wait.”

“Wait?”

“Could her time leaping be overriding yours? There’s been no major change in my memories since you met her at that fight, not even after you stopped Ryuguji’s death. Only the bounty that appeared after her disappearance from the past.”

Naoto’s living room fell silent as both men contemplated the latest theory. It was plausible, more than plausible even, given how much the fate of Toman in the past was tied into you, and now, how the future failed to shift even with another life saved. More and more, it seemed you were somehow tied into this entire mess, but how was the real question?

Takemichi let out a groan, ruffling his hair. This was hard, too hard even. “I don’t suppose we know if she’s here right?”

“I ran her name through the system, still only school records from 12 years ago,” the detective grimaced. “But if her time leaping works anything like yours, then she should be present somewhere.”

“And nothing on Mikey or Bonten yet?”

“Still no sighting of the boss, so we can’t be sure.”

“How bout Draken? He could still be alive.”

Phone clicking open, Naoto allowed himself to drop back into his seat. At this point, they had nothing else to go on, so any starting point is better than none. “Let me see what we have on Draken first - if you can write down some of the other Tokyo Manji founders’ full names, I’ll try to pull their records too.”

‎

‎

12 years separate from Takemichi’s woes, the only thing on Sanzu’s mind was just how hot and humid the evening was, much like the previous evening, the heavy wind that plowed down the empty street only bringing more heat rather than the relief Sanzu craved. Running one hand through the sticky mop of drenched pink hair in an attempt to give relief to his sweat-covered forehead, this delinquent had zero doubts that the past two hours alone was already a lot more miserable than the entire yesterday combined, not even taking into consideration what had gone down before the sun sank beneath the horizon.

This part of town was predictably quiet at this time of the day - cars rested beside empty sidewalks, the chatter of voices and light thuds and clinks of people drifting down to where Sanzu walked the streets below, the sound of the occasional furious scribble of students rushing work lost in the background hum of the neighborhood, audible only to whatever gods they were muttering to. Stalking down the road that ran past your school gates, a single glance of the flawless nameplate, sparkling in the light of the sinking sun, was enough to push his bad mood over the edge.

“Fuck! Fucking bitch!” A black clad leg swung out, and its hapless victim, an innocent, empty garbage can that went rattling down the road, the clanking of metal against concrete cutting through the night. It was you, the boy fumed. This whole mess was entirely your fault. You had vanished into thin air, a fact that Sanzu would ordinarily celebrate given all the problems you brought for him if it didn’t only proceed to make his life harder. You were the one that forced him to waste his entire day on the hunt for you, all in a vain effort to ease Mikey’s suffering. And when Sanzu predictably turned up with nothing, neither were you there to see the pain you were putting Mikey through, let alone soothe his anger away. And after you stole his best friend away from him - well, former best friend. Small fact, didn’t matter. You were still undoubtedly the root cause of all this trouble - he’s no doubt heard about the growing divide between Kazutora and the rest of the founders - so why couldn’t his king, his whole world and purpose, just forget about you and move on?

A loud growl broke the Fifth Division Vice Captain’s spiralling thoughts, and one hand moved to clutch at his empty stomach. With the sun low on the horizon and the night looming in the distance, waiting impatiently for its turn to rule the sky, of course dinner was going to be completely burnt though, and Sanzu didn’t think he had enough money on him for some supper before bed. Definitely your fucking fault as well. Grumbling about stupid and unappreciative friends as he turned a corner, your quiet school block quickly disappearing behind the wall of yet another generic apartment complex, the delinquent paused for a quick break on his seemingly endless quest, letting out as a sigh as he leaned against a brick wall, pulling his mask down for a breather where no one would see him hidden away from the tired aura of nearby streetlamps.

Why did he bother? And truly, why did he? Looking up at the clouded sky, Sanzu could only wonder. It wasn’t the first time this particular train of thoughts had popped up - several times, in fact, over the course of the past two days. Right from the start when he got the call that you had gone missing from outside your school, and that all of Toman had been mobilized to search for you, he had always wondered why he should.

Weighing the pros and cons, sure it would bring Mikey peace and joy if you were returned safe and unharmed to his awaiting arms, and Sanzu was sure he would be at the receiving end of that gratitude and thanks from all of the Toman founders alike. Maybe he would even get the chance to know you better without the threat of being beaten to death, obtain the rare opportunity to witness and learn firsthand how you got his king wrapped around your glass fingers. But at the end of the day, it would only benefit both him and Mikey in the long run should you have vanished for good, Sanzu knew - the Toman boss would be free to walk his dark destined path with you no longer there to distract or weigh him down, and there would only be the loyal Sanzu by his side to aide him.

What to do indeed. Well he did suppose if anything untold happens, he could always just kill you. All for the sake of Mikey, of course, but that was if anything untold happened. Maybe you’ll just never show up.

‎

Resolved to give up the search and hit the sack if nothing turned up within the next five minutes, it was only then that the slightest flash of gold and purple caught the corner of Sanzu’s eye, and the pink-haired boy had to take a second glance.

No fucking way. This had to be the tenth time he himself had scoured these few roads, let alone taking into account the countless times the Toman founders had searched the vicinity of your school from roof to ground. How was it possible this had been missed? Seemingly carelessly tossed at the foot of one of many brick walls that made up Tokyo City was your iconic purple charm, gifted to you by Mikey and the rest of the Toman founders. There was no one in the entirety of the gang who would fail to recognize the onomori that usually hangs by your school skirt’s belt hoop or from the zipper of your bag, a clear indication of the eyes that watched over you and whose shadows you were living under. So what was it doing here, lying forgotten in the dirt? And how has no one found it till him?

The few rays of evening light that still danced across the apartments above mocked his turbulent thoughts: would he land himself in even more trouble if he picked it up or not? Alas all Sanzu had was questions, with answers nowhere to be found. Damned if he did and damned if he didn’t. Finally settling on picking it up first and praying for forgiveness later - it would be more criminal to let something that met so much to his king lie any longer in the dirt, Sanzu decided - he reached for the charm.

As his fingertips brushed the sacred purple cloth, a sudden gall picked up, rushing down the street with enough force to slam windows and rattle doors, even almost managing to bowl over the bent-over delinquent had he not quickly righted himself.

And as quickly as the wind had started, it was gone like the last evening light upon sundown, the world falling back into a stillness that felt out-of-place. Unusually still, right till a single breath had him shooting back up at full alert, onomori now clutched in hand - he swore he had been completely alone.

You blinked back at him, frozen as if a doe caught in headlights, crunchy, transparent bag of karaage in hand rustling away with the wind.

His jaw dropped as your gazes met, his made-up mind sent reeling again.

What the actual fuck? Was - was that really you? Or just your ghost sent to haunt him from the great beyond?

One heartbeat, two heartbeats; no one spoke, and the two of you simply stared down each other, Sanzu puzzling out if this was real life or just a dream and you doing…something. You were real alright, the boy determined, a very real physical body that cast a shadow, who had two feet firmly on the ground. But where did you come from? How did you suddenly appear out of nowhere? Were you hiding from Mikey or were you on the run? Yet for reasons beyond him, you seemed more perplexed at seemingly seeing him in one piece than he was at meeting you after you appeared from nowhere. “Sanzu-san? Is that - you’re okay?”

Was- was he okay? What?

“What do you mean?” The words seemed to blurt out before the usually unflappable Toman Fifth Division Vice Captain could bring his brain around. What happened? Why would he not be okay? As if his answering set off an epiphany, a lightbulb went off behind your eyes, those doe eyes sparkling to life as you alternated looking back down at your quickly cooling karaage and Sanzu - you must have the answers that he wanted, at least some of them.

You chose to bite your tongue and keep your secrets. “Here, take this.” Instead, with a single step forward, you closed the gap between the two of you, quickly thrusting the plastic into his free hand, a small, almost sad smile breaking out onto your face. “I’m sorry for what happened.”

The small motion, though careful, was enough to knock the onomori from his other hand, the delinquent’s eyes following its path through the air as it descended once more towards the ground, but you didn’t seem to notice as you backed off and away. And when he looked back up, you had vanished once more without another word, evaporating into the chilly wind that took your place as mysteriously as you had appeared. The sun had finally given up its place as ruler of the sky, the darkness of the night enveloping the sky as it sank below the horizon, the last rays of daylight swallowed by the stars.

If he wasn’t still clutching on to the bag of karaage, he would have written the entire incident off as a hallucination and been on his way. But now, Sanzu mused as he once more bent down to carefully pick up the charm with a handkerchief, tucking it away into his pocket, now he would have to consider what to do next. No doubt that this charm was somehow linked to your disappearance and subsequent reappearance, and the boy noted to be extra careful with accidentally coming into contact with it again - the last thing he wanted was to accidentally trigger you appearing again. So should he turn over your charm to Mikey and tell his king everything? Or should he just keep this to himself, keep his head down and go along pretending?

Absentmindedly, the delinquent picked out a piece of chicken and popped it into his mouth. Bad move, because he had no words to describe how fucking delicious it was, the karaage though lukewarm still exploding into a homely, lovely flavour that warmed his belly - was this what the Toman founders had to enjoy every day? No wonder Mikey’s pissed that you’re gone.

Maybe it would be better to have you back.

‎

‎

Rather unluckily for Sanzu’s sudden change of heart, where you had vanished to wasn't anywhere that the delinquent could follow across 12 years of time. Arriving just five minutes before the white door was pulled back open, you were rather surprised to find that the sun had already set when you finally had the chance to step out from behind those intimidating glass doors of the equally intimidating building you called home for the past few days. Having had no window to look out from or clock to tell the time ever since you had met this version of Mikey, you had long lost track of the passage of time - how many days had it been since you’ve had the opportunity to take a breath of fresh air?

Maybe you should have asked the Fifth Division Vice Captain when you had the chance, but then again, you didn’t want to get him into any more trouble for speaking with you.

An arm snaked around yours to clasp your freezing hand in his, shaking you from your thoughts. “You okay?” Mikey mumbled, pulling you closer to him, forehead pinched as he scanned your face.

“I’m fine Mikey,” You hummed, glancing around as discreetly as you can under the other’s watchful eye. “Just thinking.”

The white-haired man said nothing, instead leaning his head against you. Needless to say, seeing how Mikey had reacted around you over the course of the past few fours, you had decided to keep your little excursion a secret from your friend. There was no longer any doubt in your mind that you had, against all logic and reason, time traveled - this must be somewhere in the future, though you weren’t sure how many years had passed.

But in that case, why did Mikey mention finding you? Was there no future you?

All you had were more and more questions.

The foyer of the skyscraper Mikey called home was completely empty save for the two of you, the high wall that ran around the entire compound blocking any sight of the outside world - an unusual choice given what you knew of Mikey, but things had probably changed. A car rumbled across the gravel from an entrance unseen, pulling to a stop in front of the otherwise empty foyer. Even as you were bundled into the car, the one thing that struck you was just how quiet the world around you always seemed. You couldn’t see the driver either, with the partition between the front and back of the spacious car up. Except for the two “friends” of Mikey you had met plus Sanzu (you weren’t sure if he and Mikey were still friends), the building seemed lifeless. Unoccupied. It wasn’t possible of course: there was no way such an enormous place could be kept as spotless or such a feast could be whipped up without an equally enormous staff. Maybe they were just ninjas, really good at hiding.

Lit signs and digital screens flashed by, and your mind was drawn away, and you clambered up to look out of the tinted windows in fascination, though Mikey’s arm tight around your waist remained. The city had changed in the unknown time that had passed, and you couldn’t say you recognised the Tokyo that was whizzing past you - there was an almost dreamlike feel and ambience to it, the area had changed too much - yet it was still undoubtedly the same Tokyo you had grown up in.

Barely noticing that the car slowly rolling to a crawl, the tug at your sleeve came as a surprise to you as it pulled up next to a sidewalk in a neighborhood you noted as a more prestigious part of the city - you don’t think you had ever dared venture here by yourself. “We’re here.”

“Here?”

But you were no longer as alone as you thought you were, the car door swinging open to reveal a mass of bodies forming a semicircle around the entrance. The silver of light that slipped through broad shoulders was just barely enough for you to get a peep of the surroundings before the group started moving as clockwork. Huddled as close to Mikey as physically possible, you tried your best to keep your gaze down and focused on your friend, away from the intimidating gazes of the heavily armed bodyguards that surrounded the two of you. A stark reminder that no matter how Mikey behaved and acted around you, the Mikey that strolled down the street, shoulders relaxed with one arm around you, the same one that had shot Sanzu without a second thought, was but a complete stranger to you.

The single row of double-storied shops with flawless floor-to-ceiling windows all bore names you could barely read, let alone pronounce, the interiors lit and gleaming against the setting sun in the distance. Handbags, sunglasses, clothes of every color and variety displayed proudly to the world, a siren’s call to those who sought the status they brought and a mockery to those who barely got by.

“Mikey.” A new voice cut across the rumble of the city, and your ears perked up. This wasn’t someone you met before. Gaze swinging up as the herd of bodyguards parted to reveal a man in a red and gold outfit, his white side-swept hair tossing lightly in the wind as his single gold-linked glimmered in the dim overhead light of the streetlamp.

"Koko." Mikey acknowledged, and you noted that his grip on you slightly tightened. The other had an air of confidence he carried that you supposed your protective friend didn’t quite like. But even if the newly named Koko noticed, he didn't mention it, cat-like gaze kept firmly trained on Mikey with nay a single glance in your direction.

“Store’s cleared and secured, had a chat with them earlier.”

No more words were exchanged, or rather no more needed to, with Koko sauntering off while Mikey moved forward with you, and you caught a quick side glimpse of the man. You don’t remember him from Toman either, much like the case with Ran. The two of you stopped in front of one of many storefronts, a few paces away from where Koko had just been, the polished wooden front door already neatly propped open. “Come on, I wanna start with the party dresses,” Mikey mumbled into your ear, close enough that his hot breath tickled your skin, though he quickly pulled back to stare at the ring of suited men that still surrounded you.

That seemed to be a cue, and no one followed you as you were tugged into the shop. Yet right on the threshold of the shop, you thought you heard what sounded like the click of a shutter from behind and you hesitated- it was hard to mistake the sound for anything else even from a distance, given the void of people along the rest of the stretch of road - but when you turned to look, there was no one and nothing to be seen.

“What’s wrong?”

You turned back. “Nothing.”

‎

A crystal chandelier. There was an entire chandelier in the shop, hanging from ludicrously high ceilings framed by two floors of intricate railings as you gawked at the sparkling teardrops that refracted rainbow rays of light. Well to be fair, you didn’t know what to expect - it was the first time you had ever stepped into a shop so fancy, but this was a next level of fancy. Marble tiles expertly shone lined the floor of the shop, with tasteful picks of carpet that broke the montony; vases of fresh flowers resting atop simple side tables that helped accentuate their beauty, with smaller chandeliers that hung through the rest of the shops.

But Mikey was hardly impressed with the selection, the white-haired man too busy tearing through the racks of clothes with a silent, polite attendant by his side, occasionally pulling out various articles that seemed to be made of ghostly goasmer, the fabric puffing up at the lightest breathe, looking over the piece with a critical eye and than back at you. When he amassed a satisfactory number, the attendant was quick to hurry the dresses into a private changing room that you swore was as big as your own room back home, before vanishing from sight, leaving just the two of you.

“There’s no price tag-” you swallowed anxiously, taking another glance round the store, your delicate hand gripping the parting curtain. How much did any of this cost? Should you even be holding this?

Your friend didn’t seem to have the same concerns, his facade shattering as he reverted back into the clingy, needy, baby boy you knew as Mikey as he flung himself on you. “I like this one,” he whined, pulling those puppy eyes on you as his fingers pulled at one of several dresses hanging from velvet hangers, revealing white fabric. “Try this first.”

“I-“ You hesitated, but as Mikey’s lips started to pull downwards, you found yourself caving once more to his request. “Okay, okay.”

A bright beam replaced the white-haired man's frown in an instant. “And show me when you’ve put it on.” He insisted, pushing you lightly into the dressing room.

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Waking into absolute darkness was not anything out of the ordinary for Sanzu, not after twelve years as Mikey’s loyal right arm and not much lesser as Bonten’s executor; didn’t matter if it was dark because he had blacked out in a questionable location where no light reached after too hard a binge on his favorite cocktail mix of drugs, or simply a lack of sight from not being able to physically open his eyes, he had done it all before. Countless times in fact. At least he wasn’t dead yet. But this time, the Bonten second-in-command noted as he tried and failed to lift an arm, this time was different. For one, everything hurts like an absolute bitch: his right leg was throbbing. The tell-tale sharp pain that shot up muscle and resonated in his thigh like a heavy gong was replicated in his chest, an incessant agony that stopped him falling back into the comfortable nothingness he awoke from - this was no doubt from gun wounds. He had been shot it seemed, though when and how would remain a mystery for now.

And for two, this awful stench: the putrid smell of heavily bleached floors that overwhelmed his nose, the odor permeating his throat with every breath he was forced to take. He had long forgotten when he had last been able to smell anything so strongly, and of all the things he could be taking a whiff of, that he rather be taking a whiff of: coffee, tea, or what of sweet, sweet orange candy? But noooo, it had to be this wretched stinkfest. There was no smell that Sanzu hated more than the overwhelming scent of supposed cleanliness and hygiene, yet here he was for no lack of trying. His arms and legs as if weighed down with lead. Where exactly was this? And what was he doing here?

Nothing made sense to his abnormally clear yet throbbing head.

“Well, well, well. Look what the cat spat out.” Make that three things that were different.

“Fuck you Haitani, I feel like I was hit by a bus,” Sanzu groaned out hoarsely, throwing a limp hand over his face in a vain attempt to block out the burning overhead lights which end with him slapping himself. He ignored the burst of muffled giggles from the side. “Need some fucking painkillers.”

“Doc says none for you,” another voice drawled out, right on the tail of his older brother as usual. Ah, so both Ran and Rindo were here. Fucking Haitani bastards. “Something about mixing drugs and dying.”

Eyes popping open at the denial of much-needed medication, it was in that moment that the pink-haired man finally recognised the god-forsaken Bonten infirmary that he had awoken in, the sole room he absolutely despised yet the only medical facility he hadn’t been kicked from and banned for life. Another shot of pain rocketed up his leg, a mocking reminder of his lack of drugs, to which Sanzu could only bite down the pain, closing his eyes once more in the hopes that the darkness would help soothe some away (it didn’t). Fuck him indeed. What happened?

He seemed to have said that last part out loud, seeing that Ran answered; the last he checked, neither Ran nor Rindo could mindread just yet, though knowing those bastards, it might be a matter of time. "We heard you fucked up."

Rindo continued. “Attacked Mikey’s little friend, nearly killed her. The boss didn’t seem too pleased to find you with your hands around her neck.”

“So he shot you,” finished Ran, somehow sounding even more smug than usual, an incredible feat in itself.

Words that individually made sense now strung into a sentence didn’t seem to add up at all; what were they talking about? What friend? Why would his king shoot him? “Are yall fucking with me?”

“Why would we? Kakucho told us everything.”

The mention of Bonten’s third-in-command was enough to open the floodgates of memories that had been suppressed by a combination of the trauma of getting shot and his wild day-long drug binge, those green eyes flying back open as your curious face hovering over him instantly flashed across the front of his mind. Scrambling to force his tortured body up into a sitting position, the movement almost sent the pink-haired man over the side of the infirmary bed, his gaze spinning and his head light. “It’s her?” His words came out as more of a croak, blown gaze sweeping the room to land on the silent black-haired man who he finally noticed, sitting in the corner busy flipping through a book - had he been present at the scene? Not that Sanzu remembered. "Did you see her?" He demanded.

The uncomfortably clean room fell silent, as if Kakucho was contemplating what to reply. The pistol very visibly resting in the other’s lap didn't phase Sanzu in the slightest; he knew why it was there, deducing that it was most likely a direct order from the boss to keep Sanzu from leaving, but he was still the second-in-command. Mikey's right hand. Any command he gave that didn't override his king's was to be obeyed. The pause before the other's response was short, and the reply was as simple and straightforward as Kakucho himself was. "It's her."

Ran nodded along. "Kind of a runt, highschool kid. Never expected her to be so small." Seems like the purple-haired man had his own little run-in.

"Watch your tongue," Sanzu snapped back automatically, though his mind was in a mess elsewhere. He had expected it, but Kakucho's answer still somehow threw him into a binder, the pink-haired man slumping back down to the bed. You. You were back like a ghost to haunt him. To haunt Mikey. To ruin their lives once more, like you did all those years ago. Why couldn't he get rid of you, put you to rest like an exorcist spirit? What did you want? But despite his initial surge of anxiety and anger at the mere idea of having to deal with you and all the problems you brought, he couldn’t quite grasp what exactly had pushed him over the edge.

You were no longer just the big, bad enemy that Sanzu had to get rid of to keep Mikey on his destined path. You were that feeling of a warm hug, of home. If he strained his fraying memory to the edge, the pink-haired man was sure he could still bring up a memory of a kindness that no one had shown him before you - a bag of hot, crispy karaage. A homely taste that warmed his belly on a bad day like nothing he had never experienced previously. His head felt…messed with? “Am I crazy?” He muttered to himself, before raising his voice enough for the others to hear. “I feel like my memories…changed?”

Apparently this was enough to pique Kakucho’s interest, as per the creak of his chair as he leaned forward. “In what sense?”

“Like - I changed the way I felt about her. New memories that I don’t remember having-” Sanzu shook himself out of the daze. No. He couldn't let himself get distracted - bribed - so easily. You were still the enemy, the largest obstacle he needed to clear from his king's life, crispy, home fried karaage or no. “Just me?”

Ran hummed, while Rindo scoffed and spoke up. “Just you,” he confirmed. “Probably the drugs.”

Sanzu tsked. It wasn’t the drugs, but he wasn’t going to get anything more than that from those bastard brothers. “Where’s Mikey?”

“Should be back in his room asleep.” The younger Haitani popped out the lollipop he had been sucking on, waving it casually in the air as he spoke, though the clear taunting smirk plastered across Rindo’s face said everything Sanzu needed to know. Back in his room?

“Wouldn’t you like to know~” Ran sang.

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Returning from the dangerous, dirty outdoors (or so your needy friend said) with an entire fresh new wardrobe was a good enough excuse for Mikey to insist on you taking another shower, and you saw no reason to disagree. The sun had already fully given way to the night sky when you finally left the shop and its exceedingly helpful attendants, though there were no stars to be seen from behind the heavily tinted window on your ride back to the gated compound. You were, funnily enough, thankful to be finally away from so many pairs of curious eyes no matter how discreet they were and despite how lonely you had been before; being at the center of any kind of attention was draining, but Mikey didn’t seem the slightest bit affected. But of course he wouldn’t. He led a biker gang.

Mikey didn’t let you see your new belongings being rung up, let alone the final total cost of the haul, though that didn’t stop you from having an inkling at the minimum number of zeroes that must have been attached to the end of the tab, an amount you had no hope of repaying ever. You did notice the other white-haired man - Koko, you recalled - had re-entered the store just ast you slid into the car; perhaps he was the one handling the payment? And if he was, well, you could only hope that he wouldn’t be too angry at the damage, even if Mikey had assured you that it was alright. The shopping from the trip had been neatly packed away, filling up some of the many empty wardrobes that lined the walls of the bedroom, save for the single mind-bogglingly expensive white party dress and accompanying shoes that Mikey had talked you into, which hung prominently from the back of his bedroom door.

You had to admit that the dress was perfect in every sense, almost like it was tailored for you: it hugged your body in just the right places, the fabric just heavy enough to not lift with a strong gust yet light enough that your fingers could drag through without resistance. Mikey was right, and you did like it a lot, even if you did initially think that it looked rather much like a wedding dress as opposed to one for a part; and you had to admit that you started looking forward to that party next week much more, should you still be here.

But now, even with Mikey fast asleep cuddled up in your arms just like the previous nights, you couldn’t quite fall asleep just yet, your mind preoccupied with the small, dimly lit screen of your phone. You had found it when your white-haired friend was out for his own shower, tucked away in one hidden corner of the room amidst the rest of the belongings you had arrived with in the future: school bag, umbrella, shoes and all. To your surprise, the network symbol held strong when you flipped it open for the first time in days, and you had no issues connecting back onto the same carrier you had used despite it having been an unknown number of years. Had Mikey also been maintaining this all this time?

Yet it was Baji’s number that stared back at you from the phone, his contact still seemingly active. Your finger hovered over the send button, a sudden sense of doubt settling on the base of your gut. What if- what if you were wrong? What if the number had already been transferred and you were just bothering them? Or worse, what if it was your number was the one that had been transferred and was instead the number of some criminal? And you got Baji in trouble?

The simple words dancing in the backlight of your screen now looked a lot more menacing than before. Maybe you shouldn’t, that nagging voice in the back of your head whispered, and your thumb shifted to hover on the tantalizing ‘delete’ button.

But then again, you reasoned, pushing that voice away as best you could, you would never find out if you didn’t send it. Perhaps you should include the name of your intended addressee, so all it would take would be a glance for the number’s new owner to know if it was a mistaken message - yes, you should do that indeed. What was the worst that could happen anyway, you consoled yourself, nimble fingers flying over the keypad; at most you will get a ‘wrong number’ or no response at all.

You squinted, looking over the screen again. Hi! Is this Baji Keisuke? This is - And there the cursor hovered as you reconsidered your decision. Mikey shifted in your arms with a whine, threatening to wake up and stir up a fuss if you didn’t choose soon. Finally mustering up the courage to add your name to the end, you hit send before you could regret your decision, shutting your phone with a distinctive click.

Quickly shelving the small phone back onto the empty side table, you made yourself comfortable, shifting slightly to bundle Mikey better in your arms and make sure that you didn’t wake with a dead arm once more; the night was already late, and you weren’t going to get an answer within the next few hours. No matter if Baji was still a delinquent, even he would be fast asleep by now.

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Three long, miserable days and two nights it had been since any of them had last seen hide or hair of you, and the cold war twelve years in the past raged on at full steam, threatening to escalate into a full civil war with every passing hour. The divide between Mikey and Kazutora was only spreading to the rest of the gang, complete with rumors whirling about Kazutora looking to split and start a rival gang. It wasn’t beyond the realm of possibility the other four Toman founders had to admit, despite them failing to take a side yet - you really were the glue that held Toman together, and as much as Draken and Baji tried to reason with the two stubborn boys, there would come a time that they would have to turn against Kazutora, as much as that would break them, if you didn’t return soon.

The world for once seemed to sympathize with the poor mortals that inhabited the earth below it, overcast skies rumbling and mourning your absence. Everything just seemed that much desolate without you. But it was under an uneasy truce that the feuding boys met along the small side street near your school from which you vanished; Kauztora and Mikey all but staring the other down with unblinking empty eyes that held promises of pain and death, though their attention was quickly drawn away with the appearance of a masked, calculative Sanzu. Even before Mikey could demand what his former childhood bestfriend wanted, why Kazutora could question why he had summon them here at this godforsaken hour, the rustle of a plastic bag being pulled from the front pocket of his black Toman uniform pants. The sight of the onomori from the creation of the Tokyo Manji gang, the charm they had gifted to you to bless them with your constant presence, your bloodied charm; swinging innocently inside the plastic bag. “I found this just along the sidewalk here,” Sanzu explained to the jaw-dropped yet deadly silent founders, those pairs of predatory eyes all bearing down on him. “Yesterday night.”

If he hadn’t added those last two words, the Fifth Division Vice Captain was sure his head would already made an acquaintance with the ground. Or maybe he would have been dead. Maybe both even, given those glares sent forth by the two warring parties that stabbed at him.

One heartbeat, then two, and when Sanzu blinked - the bag was gone from his hand, wrestled away by Mikey, though the blond-haired boy wasn’t alone.

“You again,” hissed Kazutora, his fingers equally dug into the bag in an attempt to take your charm for himself. “You’re still trying to keep her for yourself.”

“And I could say the same for you,” Mikey retorted, eyes narrowing dangerously as his grip tightened. This was all they had of you, and this traitor wanted to keep it for himself? Unacceptable.

It was the plastic that gave way first under the might of both delinquents, tearing along the stressed middle, the onomori starting its journey towards the ground. All Mitsuya had the time to shout was “charm!”, and both pair of fingers moved to catch, brushing the purple cloth in an instant.

A sudden strong gust of wind almost rocketed all seven boys off their feet, rushing down the small side street as if a divine hurricane sent forth by an angered god. And only Sanzu instantly understood when from thin air you appeared, standing and blinking groggily at the herd of your stunned friends, wearing a set of evidently expensive silk pajamas that no one recognised. But you seemed a lot less surprised than them, stretching your arms above your head and letting slip a yawn before you began to speak. "Guys, I think I might have gone to the future," you mumbled.

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As the sun rose on the quiet Bonten headquarters, long after Ran, Rindo and Kakucho have left Sanzu to his thoughts alone in the infirmary, it was the anguished scream echoing down the corridors that wretched Bonten’s second-in-command from his uneasy rest. But he wasn’t alone, by the sounds of pounding footsteps that rushed down the corridor in the direction of Executive’s Row. In all the years they, the Bonten executives, had faithfully followed Mikey, the man had never once shown weakness, blank empty eyes always silently observing horrendous crimes committed in his name; yet there was no doubt. The furious, grieving, desperate cry, there was no mistaking who it came from, or what had happened. You had once more vanished from Mikey’s arms.

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Across a now bustling town, black-haired man stumbled out of bed despite the sun having long hung in the sky, smashing snooze on his way; those sleepy yellow eyes all but missing the new message that flashed across the lock screen of his new smartphone. And a few blocks away, Takemichi and Naoto stood determined outside a motorcycle shop, the shutters raised yet the interior still darkened.

“This is Draken’s shop?” Takemichi questioned once more, and Naoto confirmed. He had checked and double checked, and all the records pointed here. Given Ken Ryuguji was the only Toman founder outside of Sano Manjiro that Takemichi knew the full name off, and that he was alive in this time line, perhaps the former Toman Vice Captain would be able to shed some light on the twelve years that had passed - surely having been so close to you in the past, he would have kept his ear to the ground for any news on you or Mikey.

Takemichi took a deep breath, hand reaching for the door bell. “Then let’s do this.”

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