#it truly does sound like they're in pain and crying

[okordinaryish]

"Everybody can kind of create their own theory about what it must be like... in there. And it's reasonable, I think, to say "Well, if you've been infected for a week, a month, five years, you're not— you're gone." And people also say "Look, physically, his [Sam's] ears, the eardrums, the nerves, they don't work the way they do in people who can hear, so why would they work now [that he's infected]?"

But... I think it's still him. I think in that moment where it's [the infection] just beginning, there is just confusion. It's a little bit like being on a bad trip; you can't stop yourself, you don't know what's happening and you're reacting like you're in a dream. And you may even realize, in moments, like "I'm trying to hurt somebody that I love but I can't stop it."."

— Craig Mazin about Sam being infected

[rrxnjun]

where do broken hearts go? [lmk]

you know what they say about past lovers that can remain just as friends - either they're still in love with each other, or they never were in the first place.

pairing: mark lee x fem! reader

genre: exes to lovers. angst, fluff.

wc: 12k (11.926)

warnings: mention of sex, weed and alcohol, heartbreak, swearing, park jihoon of treasure is one sassy bitch and also accidentally somehow the main character of this fanfic plz dont @ me, inconsistent writing style bc i took 3 months and 3 depressive episodes to finish this fic

playlist: where do broken hearts go - one direction / too good to say goodbye - bruno mars / everytime - ariana grande / closer - waterparks / tornado warnings - sabrina carpenter / survive the night - the boyz

a/n: hey do some of you still remember me..... AHAHA tell a friend to tell a friend rrxnjun is BACK! this fic isn't the ideal vision i had in my mind but we are working on not being so hard on ourselves with our writing so! here we are. i still kind of like it :,)

When you walk up to your best friend’s apartment one day with a tub of ice cream under your arm and the biggest pout on your face, Park Jihoon makes a complete list of things you should do to get over your failed relationship with Mark Lee. And while you think your dear friend has some psychopathic tendencies sometimes, you’d say the list is actually pretty reasonable of him. 

There’s something about the five simple steps that makes you wonder if it’s really as easy as Jihoon makes it sound. And while you doubt it– because the pinging pain in your heart makes it seem like the heartbreak is truly going to kill you in a few minutes if you don’t do something about it– you give it a try, because come on… you’d do anything to not feel like this ever again.

Step one – cry it out.

“He was a cunt anyway,” Jihoon mutters as he steps into the living room with two spoons in his hands, throwing one of them to you– while almost managing to hit you in the middle of your forehead in the process, adding a concussion to the mix of problems you have going on right now– and you find yourself furrowing your brows at his hateful comment.

“Why’d you say that?”

“Well, as your best friend, I’m supposed to be on your side, no?” he says as he takes a seat on the sofa next to you, watching as you wrap one of the thick blankets you got for the male around your figure– you bought it mainly for yourself, because his apartment is cold as a freezer and you knew he wouldn’t buy one for you to use in the first place– and shrugs. “Besides, he broke your heart, and any male who does that is a cunt in my eyes.”

“I broke up with him,” you mourn, “so I broke my own heart,” you snicker, despair fully filling you up from the inside– fitting everywhere into your lungs and choking you up from how bad you truly feel. Now, this isn’t your first breakup– you’ve had your fair share of boyfriends in high school (in your baddie era, as Jihoon called it), but Choi Yeonjun from Maths class and Jung Woonyoung, the guy you dated for a total of 2 months over the summer break before he moved away, weren’t exactly boys you found yourself falling in love with. Sure, you liked them, you kissed them and went on dates with them– hell, you even hooked up with Yeonjun once before you realized the relationship truly wasn’t for you– but no one managed to cave into your heart just as much as Mark Lee, your first college boyfriend did.

“But you sure had a reason for it, come on!” Jihoon huffs, taking the tub of ice cream from your hands and opening it for you, since you’ve gotten quite weak from the lack of sleep and nutritions ever since the break up, hands clammy and not cooperating. “You don’t just break up with someone to break your own heart. He did that, that’s why you said goodbye to him,” he says before sitting the enormous tub of ice cream between your two bodies, nudging you to dig into the frozen delicacy.

“Yeah, but–”

“No buts, young lady. We are here to make you forget you ever even dated Mark Lee, so open up, eat the ice cream and focus your attention on Titanic so you can finally cry it out,” he says, and by the tone of his voice, you’d think he’s angry with you. Jihoon has this aura around him that makes you think he’s always at least a little annoyed at everything– but he told you to not mind it and that it’s just his sassy bitch attitude. 

He does have a point, though. You broke up with Mark because he broke your heart first– there was no other reason for it. If it was something minor, something small, you were sure you could work on it. You have, numerous of times before, brought up something and had a mature conversation about it– something you always so admired about Mark, being so cautious and understanding when navigating problems in the relationship– but when you bring up the same thing over and over, and it never gets fixed despite him telling you he’ll try harder next time, you think you’re allowed to feel a little heartbroken at his nonexistent efforts. And that’s exactly why you decided to quit the relationship– after a while, you felt like you were putting in more effort than he was, effectively making you feel like he’s not even that interested in dating you in the first place.

First, he just told you he was forgetful. He forgot he promised to pick you up from class one day– and you said that it’s okay, he is busy, after all– and it was the first time it happened, so you didn’t really mind that much, truly. Then, he forgot about the date you scheduled– but it was fine, because you didn’t have reservations anyway, you could change the day to any other day of the week, after all. He kept forgetting the stuff you told him in between the conversations you shared– and it was small things, you understand, but sometimes, you wondered if he was ever really listening to you at all. 

Forgetful soon turns not interested in your eyes, and when he doesn’t call you in the evening like he promised he would, when he doesn’t show up to the party you invited him to, because he forgot it was that day, you’re one step closer to calling it quits, because each and every one of these situations sends a sharp pain into your stomach. The last straw was just last week, though– and realistically, it was an important day, as much that you thought the day is somehow gonna fix everything, but the truth is somewhere completely else as Mark Lee forgets about your one year anniversary and never shows up at your doorstep for the dinner you prepared for the two of you like he promised he would. 

And it doesn’t click in him two days after either– you don’t even get a text. He got so forgetful over time that he forgot about you completely, and that’s when you took an uber to his place and broke up with him for good.

And even though the breakup was the most painful thing you’ve ever felt yourself go through, Jihoon is right– you’re not the one that broke your own heart. Mark Lee did that for you many times before, and this was just the breaking point.

“Fucking hell, you bought cookies and cream again?” Jihoon huffs when he takes another spoonful of the ice cream into his mouth, eyebrows furrowing at the sweet taste. Looking at him from the corner of your eye, you wipe your left cheek as you hum, immune to his nagging by now.

“You know I hate cookies and cream!”

“You know, Hoon, I bought this for myself. When you’re the one that’s heartbroken, we’ll share your favorite ice cream flavor instead,” you mumble, munching on the coldness on your tongue, sniffling a little when your eyes avert to the TV screen.

And after that, the teasing from your best friend’s side stops. Maybe it’s just because he hates to see you cry– and he rarely gets the chance, if you’re being honest, since you’re pretty good at handling your emotions– but you secretly know that it’s because when he looks back at the TV screen in front of the two of you, the sad part of the movie hasn’t even started yet and the tears are not the result of the movie, but of your own thoughts instead.

Step two – give him back all of his stuff and the stuff he’s given you that reminds you of him. Demand that he does the same.

Now, step two was a thing most couples do when they break up. Realistically, it makes sense– you wouldn’t want stuff that’s not yours just laying around, and also, it’s just bound to remind you of the person you lost. Naturally, you’d want to return it.

“Why does he have to return my things as well?” you mutter under your breath as Jihoon helps you fold all Mark’s hoodies into a cardboard box, alongside with wrapping the little things your ex boyfriend made out of ceramic for you in tissue paper like you asked him to– even though he complained and said that it shouldn’t matter to you if they break, because you are the heartbroken one– but you held those little things too close to your heart to let them get damaged in the first place.

“Because that’s how it works,” Jihoon hums, watching as you throw another one of Mark’s shirts onto the top of his head, shielding his vision. “What, you don’t want your stuff back?”

“I mean…” you mumble, deeply considering of the fact that the thought of getting your stuff back didn’t even cross your mind until now, before you realize your favorite pair of socks is thrown somewhere in Mark’s drawers– the blue ones with peaches on them– and you suddenly have the revelation that while you don’t necessarily need the stuff back, you’d love to wear those socks again. “I guess…” you note as you walk over to Jihoon and take a glance into the full cardboard box, looking over the stuff and chewing on the inside of your cheek.

“It’s like witchcraft, y’know,” Jihoon points out, looking at you with fierce eyes mirroring the stupid idea that just flashed through his brain, “if you don’t exchange the things, a piece of you is still kept at his apartment and you won’t be able to move on.”

And again, Park Jihoon does have psychopathic tendencies, but he may be onto something here. So you listen to him as you nod along and close the cardboard box, ready to drive over to Mark Lee’s apartment and drop off the things you’ve collected from him for the past year. The box includes all of the clothes messily scattered across your drawers and your closet, the picture frame of you two together that you always had on your night stand, the ceramic bowls and a little tiger sculpture he made for you when he took a pottery class with his friend Renjun, and the lost guitar pics you found under your bed and at the very top of your bookshelf from when he used to bring his guitar along and play you songs on rainy afternoons. The only things of Mark’s that you kept were the love letter he gave you for your birthday and the USB with his cover of Justin Bieber’s Off my face on it that he shyly gifted to you on one of your dates; but you would never tell Jihoon that in fear of him getting rid of those most precious memories for you.

It’s good to let go, but you don’t think you’re wrong for wanting to keep something to remind you of the good times. The times you still felt loved by Mark.

“Off we go,” you say, standing up and bringing the box towards your front door, your best friend at your feet. He promised to drive you to Mark’s place– you think he’s worried about you meeting your ex-boyfriend face to face for the first time since the break up, but he said it’s because you’re too broke to Uber all the time, efficiently throwing all the considerate thoughts you were accrediting him out the window– and after a few minutes of the drive, you find yourself standing on the doorstep of Mark Lee's apartment.

Taking a deep breath in and out, almost chickening out with the flood of thoughts and excuses you could say to Jihoon when you come back to his car with the box still in your hands– sayings like “he wasn’t home” or “he didn’t want those back”, the latter stupider than the first– you decide to face your problems head-on and finally knock on the mahogany door, waiting for Mark to answer. And he does– of course he does, because he’s always home, and as his ex-girlfriend of one year, you're painfully aware of the fact– but when that happens, you feel your heart falling all the way down to your stomach, crushing you and suddenly making it hard for you to breathe. 

“Um… hi,” he greets you, voice a little groggy, as if he hasn’t spoken in a while– and when you meet his eyes, the deep chocolate orbs you always found yourself admiring and writing silent odes to in your head, you quickly glance away in fear of staring into them for too long and making decisions you wouldn’t like to make.

“Hi,” you awkwardly greet back, clearing your throat and moving a little in your place, shifting the weight from one foot to the other. You're surprised you're able to keep up with the conversation, thoughts running in your brain faster than you can comprehend them, heartbeat ringing in your ears from the unexpected anxiety. Maybe Jihoon was right and you should've taken a shot before coming here– at least you'd have more courage and social skills clearly needed for this kind of interaction. “I… brought you back your things,” you say, finally looking up at the male and chewing on your lips, letting out an awkward, tense laugh when he stares at you with an empty look, “figured you’d want them back,” you add, watching as the male opens his mouth and closes it in what seems to be shock before he presses his lips tightly together and nods at you.

“Uh, yeah,” he says, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly as he watches you clumsily hold up the cardboard box to him, ready to leave his stuff there with him and escape as fast as you can, not really minding how you'll get back to Jihoon's car– if jumping down the window of the entrance hall is the fastest option, you're ready to get to it. The truth is, everything is starting to get a little too hard to bear– his familiar scent filling your nose, the hoodie he wore to your first date enveloping his figure, his messy hair reminding you of the many times you brushed your fingers through it in attempts to smooth it down. It’s only been two weeks since you last saw him, but it was starting to feel as if you forgot about him already and were now relearning all the things you once fell in love with again, looking at him in the same light, yet noticing him and all the small details a little bit differently. “Thanks, I… I actually, uh… I have your stuff here too, so if you want it back I’ll– I can just–”

“Y-yeah,” you nod, almost a little too eagerly, “that would be… cool,” you say, trying hard to ignore the fact that he had your stuff packed too, intending to give it to you, and the crashing reality that comes with it, telling you he was prepared to do this before you were and how it’s making you feel kind of shitty.

Mark moves further into the apartment, the sound of him dropping the box to the floor filling your ears before he’s back at the door in no time, a similar cardboard box in his hands that he offers to you with a tense smile on his face. “Wanted to bring it around so I had an excuse to see you, but you, uh… beat me to it, I guess…” 

Looking at him as you take the box out of his hands, gaze as if to tell him not to say such words to you when you’re still so fragile to his effect, you only nod and mutter out a simple “Thanks,” before you turn on your heel and intend to take the stairs back down.

“I’ll… see you around, then?” Mark calls after you as you take the first step out– something about it making you feel like it’s the first step out of his life, in a way– and you only nod, because one, you truly don’t know how else to reply to this question, and two, you really, really don’t know if you’ll ever see him again, but you can't bring yourself to say it to his face. Somehow, it would feel like torture to admit it– and you're not prepared for that reality just yet.

Rushing outside and getting into Jihoon's car, you almost feel like you’re on the verge of breaking, and when the male asks you how it went as he’s reversing out of the parking lot, you only bid him a one-word reply before you look through the box on your way home, too impatient to stay back from the memories.

And Jihoon didn’t really think this one through, because the fact that you gave Mark back the things that reminded you of him meant that he did the same, and now all the things you brought along to Mark’s apartment were in the cardboard box, all stained with countless memories and feelings attached to each and every single thing. The artwork you made for him, the little heart-shaped keychain you gave him for his birthday, the plant you gave him that was now long dead and dried out– those were once your stuff, but all in this world with the intention of love being sent out through them to your now ex-lover, and the fact that they’re in your possession again instead of his is not making letting go of Mark any easier. 

And maybe Mark was right and he truly was forgetful, because as you rummage through the contains of the box, while you find out your favorite blue socks are nowhere to be seen, surely still buried somewhere in the drawers of his closet, obliterated out of his memory, there’s a gray hoodie sitting at the bottom and it’s surely not yours– it’s his and it was always your favorite, and you always used to wear it at his place when you got cold or when you just really wanted to smell his cologne, and you suddenly don't know if it's presence in the box slipped his mind or if he truly left it there on purpose. 

Couldn’t he forget about that too?

Step three – block his number.

The third step comes into place after you accidentally slip out to Jihoon about the phone call you get on a Friday night– more like two hours into Saturday already– and now, most of all, you must admit that your best friend might be right about his advice.

Your phone starts ringing at 2:11 AM, and while you weren’t sleeping– you’ve been having some trouble with dozing off without being overbeared with thoughts lately– the name flashing on your screen shocks you for more reasons than one. 

Mark Lee calls you, three weeks after your breakup, in the middle of the night. You haven’t spoken since the time he gave you back your stuff, and even though you’ve done quite a bit of stalking on his social media, you have no news of him or his whereabouts. Naturally, a call from him in the middle of the night startles you and shakes you to the core. He has no reason to call you, so your brain does the math and concludes there must be an emergency– and god knows that even after being hurt by him, you could never ignore him and leave him hanging in a state of need.

So you pick up– with shaky hands and a raging heartbeat, expecting the worst. Listening to the other side of the line, you take a deep breath in and out, bracing yourself for the impact of the words you’re going to hear. The voice on the other side is laced with haziness and his tone is almost a little tired– worn out, even– when he finally greets you from wherever he is.

“Hi,” Mark says, and for a second, your heartbeat steadies itself and the world stops spinning– he sounds okay, and for a moment, you’re grateful to hear his voice.

Humming, as if to collect your thoughts, you clear your throat before you offer him an answer. “Hello,” you greet, “what’s- what’s up?”

“Just wanted to hear your voice,” he says, almost a little abruptly to your question. He doesn't overthink his answer and he doesn't give himself time to think if it's a good idea or not– he just blurts it out and now it's your problem to deal with, when it's there, out in the open. Your palms get sweaty and you start to lose feeling in your fingertips, making you take a few seconds to yourself to process the situation before you decide to finally answer to the strange sentence. 

“It’s late, Mark,” you mumble, and you involuntarily wonder if the sentence doesn’t have double meaning– it's too late for anyone to call at this hour, and at the same time, it’s been weeks since your ex boyfriend lost the privilege of listening to your voice when he can’t sleep in the middle of the night whenever he feels like it– and it’s now too late to do anything about it or make it any easier to deal with.

“Shit, sorry,” he chuckles to himself, and you suddenly recognise the laziness in his voice to be the effect of his and his best friend Hyuck’s Friday endeavors; the sweet coating of his voice being the effect of none other than the momentary bliss that comes with the relaxation of his body and mind when he's high. “Didn’t realize,” he concludes, making you shake your head at him in disbelief– not really mattering that he can’t see you in the act.

“‘s okay,” you mumble– and in your perfect reality, you hang up the phone now. In your perfect reality, you connect it to your charger and close your eyes, calling it a night. You fall asleep with no thoughts rummaging through your brain and wake up in the morning to a new sunny day, ready to take on the responsibilities of what’s to come, having productive days ended with smiles and a hot dinner you make for yourself just because you feel like it. In your perfect reality, you protect your own heart. This is not your perfect reality, though– and that’s why you stay on the line, listening to Mark ramble on the other side of the phone, intoxicated and slightly out of it. You wonder if he’ll remember calling you when he wakes up tomorrow. You wonder if he’ll regret it, or if he’ll just shrug his shoulders at the fact and go on with his day, not really paying you much thought when he’s sober.

“I was with Hyuck just now,” he says, and you hear the rustling of his sheets on the other side of the line, making you wonder if he’s washed up and ready for bed, “and– and I remembered how we all used to hang out together, y’know… you with us all– you always clicked with my friends and it was so cool and stuff… and I realized, right, they’re not as funny when you’re not around… but anyways… Jeno’s girlfriend asked about you, ‘cause she didn’t know…and telling her felt so silly, ‘cause they all kept looking at me and I knew they were pitying me, but it was my fault in the first place–”

“Mark–” 

“No, it’s true. And it’s cool, I don’t– I don’t blame you, or anything. I just… I dunno, I guess it got me wondering…”

The line goes silent on the other side, and you settle into your own bed, giving him time to continue. When he doesn’t say anything for a long time, you wonder if he’s fallen asleep.

“Mark?”

“Hm?”

“You still there?”

“Yeah. How was your day?” he asks, tone of voice casual as ever, as if he’s forgotten about all the words he’s told you up until now–  as if it’s not 2 AM and both of your hearts aren’t breaking at the sound of each other’s voice on the other side of the line.

“It… it was okay, I guess,” you say nonetheless, too hopeless to find a way to end the conversation before he does. 

“That’s good to hear,” he says, sighing, “that’s… awesome. You still taking those yoga classes on Mondays?” he asks, and you snicker to yourself– because what kind of question even is that? Who asks that on a late night call, when there are more important things you two need to talk about?

“Yeah,” you lie, still. You haven’t been since the breakup.

“That’s great. Wouldn’t want you to… y’know,” he laughs to himself, “be too sad over this… ‘t was for the better, after all.”

You hear yourself hum– the noise way more stable than your actual words ever could be– and you find yourself feeling silly in the conversation, lying to your ex boyfriend through your teeth; because at the end of the day, you don’t want him to worry about you– because it seems to be the case that he is. And it’s stupid, because he hurt you and you shouldn’t care, maybe you should’ve even show him that you’re heartbroken and that he is the reason behind your pain and the way your life is falling apart, bit by bit, but you don’t find it in you to be so cold and heartless. At the end of the day, you still care about Mark and there’s nothing you could do about it. Turns out that breaking up with him doesn’t magically make the feelings go away– and you knew that, but now you have proof.

“What were you saying before, by the way? You… trailed off at the end,” you say, reminding him of his previous words.

“Oh, that,” he snickers into the microphone again, a heavy sigh escaping his lips as he twists and turns in the sheets, “don’t worry about it. It was selfish of me.”

It was selfish of him to call in the first place. But you won’t tell him that.

“What was it?”

“It’s just… I was wondering if I lost you forever, y’know… if there was a chance we could ever…” he trails off again, but this time, you don’t bug him to complete it. You’re not stupid– you know the implication of his words. You’ve known him for a long time, after all– maybe you should’ve predicted this when you picked up the call.

“I mean…” you hum, “you didn’t lose me completely, if that’s– if that’s what’s keeping you up at night. We’re still friends, aren’t we?” you say, and in the corner of your brain, you can’t even believe the words yourself– but if it was selfish of him to call, you think it’s okay for you to selfishly fill both of you with empty promises, just for the sake of not breaking your heart even further.

“Yeah,” he mumbles, “that’s– …I’m glad.”

The line’s silent after that, and you wonder if you two have used up the list of words to say to each other this time, if there’s truly no other answer at the end of this conversation. When the situation gets too much for you to bear, the heaviness finally settling on your shoulders and your chest, you finally find the courage to sniffle out a quiet goodbye.

“Good night, Mark.”

“G’night,” he drags out, mind still cloudy. “Love you,” spills out from his tongue, like a bad habit.

He ends the call before you get to say it back. Maybe that’s for the better.

And the truth is, you should’ve really listened to Park Jihoon and blocked Mark’s number after this encounter. But you didn’t– you’re too weak for Mark’s sweet words, finding yourself still hanging on to his saccharine voice and the muffled ramble he has reserved for you only every time he gets high and loses all self-control before calling you on Friday nights selfishly demanding your attention, somehow falling for him like a teenager over and over again despite promising yourself you're gonna move on for real now.

Step four – date someone new.

“So…” Jihoon starts one day, eyes glued to your skull like laser beams, the tone of his voice so incomprehensible you think he’s going to scold you for the actions of your previous days– even though you haven't told him about the midnight calls with Mark and so if he's not going through your phone, he has no way of knowing. Tense and nervous, still, knowing that the impact of his words could either heal you or cut you open like a knife– damn him for always being so brutally honest, no matter how soft his heart is for you– you smile at him with tight lips, crossing your arms on your chest in defense.

“So…?” 

A nervous laugh almost escapes your throat. If Jihoon wasn’t suspicious of you before, he surely is now– or he just finds you strange by the way he furrows his brows at you and scans you up and down, taking a second for himself before he sighs and seemingly decides to drop the weird way you’re acting right now, shaking his head and focusing on the task at hand.

“I was thinking… my friend asked about you,” he says, nonchalantly looking down onto his hands and taking the dirt out from behind his nails, as if it’s not a big deal and he doesn’t even care that much. “Choi Hyunsuk from Biology, you know him– shabby haircut, kinda short, failed the class so he has to retake it this year…?”

“I think you’re forgetting the fact that the two of us have completely different majors, Hoonie,” you sweetly smile at him with irony, making him roll his eyes with a sigh before he tries again.

“The guy who ripped his pants at Xiao Dejun’s party last year?”

“Oh, that one! You should’ve said that earlier, of course I remember Choi Hyunsuk from your Biology class,” you nod hurriedly, the gears finally clicking in your brain.

“As if I wasn’t talking about him for the last few minutes–”

“Okay, and what about him?” you cut him off, already tired of his annoying tangent.

“I said he asked about you.”

“I heard that already,” you nod, looking at him with expecting eyes. “And?”

Jihoon stares at you, unblinking, as if you fell on your head and he’s trying to comprehend if you’re still here with him or if you got a concussion and need to be transferred into a hospital. When the contact of his eyes on your skin gets a bit too uncomfortable– you swear his looks could actually kill someone, if he tried enough– you furrow your brows at him in confusion and shake your head in disbelief.

“Why are you staring at me like that, Park Jihoon?”

“Just tryna see if you’re really that stupid or if you’re just pretending,” he mutters under his nose before he sighs again– his favorite activity whenever you’re around, it seems– and speaks up again, tone of voice reminding you of a kindergartener teacher trying to explain why it gets dark in the evening to a bunch of 4 year olds. “You know, when people ask about you, they are usually interested in you, as in, my friend Hyunsuk didn’t ask because you’re nice, but because you’re hot, if you know what I'm getting onto.”

“Oh,” you get out, eyes wide in concern and a little shaken-up, “well, that’s… nice of him, I guess.”

Jihoon only hums at you before he looks around himself and brings out the bag of chips that he left open by his right side only a few seconds ago, not really speaking more about the topic. It’s either he’s waiting for you to get what he’s hinting at, or he’s just waiting for you to get even more confused and ask him about it in a few seconds again– either way, he’s not the one doing more talking right now, because conversations with you, the most oblivious person he’s ever seen, are never productive if he goes too fast.

Chewing on the chips, his eyes go wide when you finally open your mouth and talk more about the topic at hand– just like he predicted. “Why are you telling me this?”

Your best friend swallows before he places the bag of chips back to its original place and turns his whole body so he’s facing you, speaking up again. “I was thinking that maybe, just maybe, you’d like to hang out with him. Like a date, before you ask– because I know you’re gonna ask– and why? – because, again, I know you’re gonna ask– because I simply think you should try to date again to get your mind off the loser you broke up with two months ago,” he says, blunt and honest, answering all of your unsaid questions at once, and before you know it, he has you snickering and shaking your head in disapproval.

“Absolutely not,” you retort, waving your hands in the air to only further show your disagreement with the proposition, “that would just be a massive catastrophe.”

“Why? Hyunsuk’s nice.”

“I didn’t say he isn’t, it’s just…”

“Just?” he probes you, eyebrows raised and questioning.

“I… don’t know,” you nervously chew on the inside of your cheek, aimlessly shrugging. “I just don’t think it’s a good idea, Jihoon.”

“Because of Mark?” he asks, and the moment his name escapes your best friend’s mouth, the whole room goes strangely quiet– you feel your heartbeat in your throat, the tips of your fingers start tingling and you swear that if you concentrate hard enough, you could feel a bead of sweat drip down your forehead with the incoming stress and nerves only the mention of your ex boyfriend brings you.

“No, that’s not it–”

“Sure,” he nods, sighing to himself– and there it is again, the judging look you so despise.

“You can’t just expect me to date other people a few weeks after my break up, Jihoon,” you exclaim, “that– that wouldn’t even be fair to your friend. You know I wouldn’t be invested,” you explain, and your friend rolls his eyes in frustration, sighing to himself.

“Oh but I know that! And Hyunsuk does too,” he shakes his head at you, “just thought the company of someone else could take your mind off things.”

“I have you,” you try.

“Yeah, but all we do when we’re together is mope about Mark Lee,” Jihoon snickers, “and don’t get me wrong, I’m more than open to bitch about your ex boyfriend and as your best friend, I don’t mind, but the fact that you’d be hanging out with someone else could take your mind off him, because you wouldn’t feel comfortable talking about him with someone else, y’know?”

You shut your eyes closed, a heavy sigh heaving out of your body as you try hard to concentrate and not lose it, and with how Jihoon’s tone gets softer and he’s not as loud with his brutal, yet logical advice, he must feel you getting overwhelmed and accommodates to your needs. “Look, it’s gonna be fun. I promise. Hang out with someone new, feel wanted and hot and pretty again, get some male attention that’s not your ex boyfriend, and you’ll see how it makes you feel. If you hate it, you hate it and you can slap me, I don’t know... If you don’t, you can keep dating around with my friends, and I swear I’ll hook you up only with the nice ones,” he takes your hand into his and waves it around in comfort, making you open your eyes and look at him again.

Seeing the softness and encouragement in your best friend’s eyes, you sigh to yourself. All this time, he’s tried to help you– what if you finally follow his advice? Who knows, it might even help. 

Sighing, you squeeze his palm and hover over him to get the stranded bag of chips he’s guarding on the other side of the sofa. “Fine,” you mutter, “but let your friend know that he’s the one paying, okay?”

“Perfect. I'll text him your number, then.“

And maybe Jihoon was right and after dolling yourself up and dressing up in your favorite dress just so you would feel as comfortable as possible, you don’t feel as bad when his friend Hyunsuk picks you up in his white Volvo and chats with you on the way to the restaurant. He makes good small talk and even gets a giggle out of you, the music in his car is low and you find yourself slowly easing into the situation. You don’t remember when the last time you went out with a guy that wasn’t Mark was, but it’s surprisingly nice. 

And Jihoon was right– you feel pretty. And when Hyunsuk opens the door for you after pulling up to the parking lot of the restaurant, you even feel wanted. You like the attention, just like any other girl would, and the smile you offer to your date seeps of tender shyness as you get out of the comfortable seat of his car. 

The illusion, though, is soon broken as you notice the restaurant he pulled up to. Your smile freezes, your palms get sweaty and you feel your heartbeat rummaging against your ribcage as soon as the idle atmosphere of the restaurant opens up before you. And realistically, you could turn on your heel and get back to the car, tell Hyunsuk that you want to go to another restaurant– but you don’t do it, against your biggest wishes, because you worry that the boy already made a reservation and you don’t want to ruin an evening that’s going well so far.

“Everything alright?” your date checks up on you, seemingly noticing the frown on your face, and when his worried eyes meet yours, it’s sealed– you’d feel too bad for pulling out of the date now. So you only do what you always do best– you put on your best relaxed smile and nod, catching up to him and ensuring him that you’re all okay and you didn’t just talk yourself out of an anxiety attack. 

Because you owe it to him and to Jihoon– both of them worked so hard to make you feel happy and help you to get over your ex boyfriend. It’s not Hyunsuk’s fault that he just managed to pick the restaurant your said ex boyfriend works at part-time. He had no way of knowing, and if you’re lucky enough, Mark wouldn’t be on today. He only works here part-time, it’s not like he’s here every day, and as far as you’re concerned, he only worked like two or three days a week when you dated. It would be a weird coincidence for him to be working the day you go there with your new date– you hope you’re not that unlucky.

Hyunsuk is a gentleman. Opening up doors for you, pulling out the chair for you, letting you talk and not interrupting you. He watches you with fond eyes and you almost try to feel bad for the fact that even if this ended well, the poor boy would just end up being a rebound. He deserves so much more, and you start to worry if this date was a good idea after all. Wasn’t it selfish of you to agree to this? 

“What do you want to get?” he asks as you open up the menu, and you squint at the prices, mentally taking a note to order the cheapest thing just in case he wants to pay for you at the end of the evening. 

“Spaghetti Bolognese,” you blurt out, despite it not being your favorite meal. Hyunsuk just stares at you with squinted eyes, but doesn’t disagree with you. After all, he has no way of knowing that you dislike the taste of the sauce in most restaurants– even though your conscience tells you that Mark knew that and always made sure to remind you about it before ordering for you, worried that you won’t get to eat much that evening– the only thing left to hope is that it tastes good in this particular place. 

“Okay, sure,” he nods and puts the menu down, smiling at you before engaging in a comfortable conversation with you. It feels like you’ve known Hyunsuk forever– his personality oddly reminding you of Jihoon’s caused mainly by the fact that the two have grown up together. Everything flows soundly, but you still find yourself anxiously picking at your cuticles as you cautiously look around the restaurant, fearing the fact that you could catch a glimpse of your ex boyfriend at any second.

And maybe you should be a psychic, because those bad feelings were not there for nothing– when you see a waiter walking out of the back and eyeing your table, ready to get your order, the boy is a few inches taller than your current date, raven hair messy, but still a little styled, dark circles under the man’s eyes, and there he is– your ex boyfriend. Mark Lee halts in his movements, wearing his work uniform, eyes wide, a hint of something that breaks you at least in two mirroring in his orbs before he turns on his heel and disappears in the back again. When he doesn’t come back and his co-worker joins you and Hyunsuk at your table with a warm smile, you stop waiting to see the glimpse of him you selfishly desired to catch despite fearing the interaction the whole evening.

You want to fall through the floor and disappear in the depths of this earth. For some reason, you feel mortified. What would he think? And why do you even care about his feelings? A million different thoughts run through your brain and you worry that you’re being too distant from your current date, but Hyunsuk’s warm eyes reassure you that he doesn’t mind. 

Piercing the food on your table with your eyes, you try to battle the noisy words running around your brain. 

It’s easy to say you’re over someone when you don’t see them. To have them in front of you, meet their gaze and acknowledge their existence and still be able to nod and say that you’ve moved on, is something completely different. 

Were you ever convinced that you were over Mark Lee in the first place, though?

After all of this– the months of following Jihoon’s advice, although making a few mishaps along the way as you continue to pick up Mark’s calls on Friday nights, snoop around his socials and let your mind wander to places it shouldn’t, overthinking everything and making you wish the relationship never ended in the first place– it’s time for the last step of it all. The last, most crucial part of this whole moving on process– the most important one, if you may.

Step five – avoid him at all costs.

Sounds easy, right? After the four previous steps, you’d already cried plenty about the lost months with your ex-boyfriend. You’d already given him back all of his stuff, not tying yourself to him with any material memory. You’d already gone on a date with someone new, choosing to distract yourself instead of letting yourself feel the emotions. After all the previous steps, this one’s supposed to be the easiest one. The one you’re supposed to want to do, after all. The break-up wasn’t messy, but it was still painful– it’s only natural for you to not want to see Mark ever again, right?

Wrong.

Because you never listen to the advice you’re given. That just wouldn’t be you, would it?

And so when Mark Lee calls you one day and tells you that he has a free train ticket to the Bukhansan stop, explaining that he was supposed to go hike there with Donghyuck who canceled on him last minute because of an assignment due midnight, you don’t really hesitate much before you shoot him a short text saying that you’re down and get ready for the short hike. 

When you meet your ex boyfriend at the station, his figure slightly slouched up until the moment his eyes meet yours, you feel the quiet tension in the air. You’ve seen each other a few times before this meeting– on a party you went to with Jihoon, at the campus when you went to class one morning, your ex boyfriend walking you towards the Art building, hell, you’ve even met in the grocery store, all accidental and making your heart leap in your chest with tension. This time, though, you’re here completely intentionally, just to hang out with him, and something about the fact makes a dull pain shoot all through your intestines, a sensation so uncomfortable you try to hide with a tight-lipped smile. 

“Ready for the hike?” he asks, adjusting the bag on his back, playing with the straps with clammy fingers. You can’t help but notice how he looks just like a little boy, in his little world, shielded from everything. He seems to have taken a protective stance, and you hate how the air between you shifted from how you two used to be when you were dating. Mark seems scared. Nervous. On top of his feet. Maybe you shouldn’t have agreed to this at all.

You’re already here, though. Turning around and leaving wouldn’t really work right now, as you take a step towards the train that’s just arrived, humming to your ex boyfriend in agreement. Taking a seat on the place Mark’s pointed to you on the train ticket, you try to loosen up your muscles and get as comfortable as you can, clearing your mind as you gaze outside of the window.

“How have you been?” he asks, clearing his throat.

Pressing your lips into a tight line, you turn to him as you search for an answer. “Better,” you nod, voice quiet. “You?”

Mark hums, chewing the inside of his cheek. “Good, good,” he lies through his teeth, “I’ve seen you at the restaurant the other day,” he hints, and you battle the sigh that’s begging to cut out of your throat. You don’t know where he’s going with the sentence. It’s not a question– only a proposition, barely even that– and you could ignore it with a nod of your head, you could pay it no mind as you see the bitterness in his gaze and the slightly self-conscious averting of his stare. You don’t know where he’s going with the conversation, but frankly, you don’t know where you are going with your answer either, as you shrug to him in a casual manner and peep under your breath.

“Yeah,” you say, “that was just… Jihoon’s friend from uni, I suppose,” you complete, and the sentence hints at nothing– it doesn’t clear out the confusion, it doesn’t outright say anything that could make Mark believe that it was just a casual hang-out with a friend, but still, you see the boy visibly relax as he nods to you and offers you a tight-lipped smile.

“Oh,” he hums, looking out of the window, past the profile of your face. The change in topic is sudden and sharp, but also welcome as he falls into a casual conversation with you, and suddenly, you’re reminded by the Mark you once knew– the guy you’ve once called not socially awkward, but so social that it’s awkward– as he talks to you about his day and rambles on about the weather. “It’s good that it won’t rain today, I bet the view will be nice.”

Locking your gaze with him for a brief second, you lick your lips and point your eyes towards the ground. It’s good that it won’t rain today, as opposed to last time you two went to the Bukhansan trail. You wonder if he remembers.

Before you have a chance to mention it– and in all reality, you won’t, no matter how bold you could be feeling at the moment– the train comes to a stop at your station and you hop out of the carriage, ready for the hike.

It’s easy to forget how messed up things have gotten between the two of you when you walk alongside with your ex boyfriend, laughing at his silly jokes and gasping at everything he shows to you with a pointed finger, finding yourself admiring the sound of his giggle when he spots a squirrel pass your path somewhere near the top of the hill. The trail is almost empty at this hour, since the two of you have decided to go in the late afternoon, and you find your soul to finally be at peace after so many weeks, you finally feel relaxed in the nature, one with the wind and the gentle sound of birds chirping lullying your running thoughts to a rest. 

You realize that this is just what you needed all this time. You needed to get out and walk for some while, to tune out yourself and to accept the fact that you’re still here, for another day, and something about that is still a blessing. Watching the back of Mark’s head as he walks a step in front of you due to the narrowness of the trail in this area, you smile to yourself. It’s easy to forget just how much you were hurt by him when he heals your soul with such a simple gesture. It’s easy to forget you were hurt when he seemingly tries to put all the broken pieces back together, glue them to where they were in the first place, when things were easier and you both didn’t have so many things to worry about. 

You reach the top just as the sun starts setting over the horizon, and there are only a few people scattered across the peak, sitting on their own picnic blankets and gazing into the distance. The hues of the sky paint the world in a different color, the oranges, pinks and muted purples playing with your heartstrings as you come to a halt and crouch down and feel the presence of another soul mirror your actions only a meter away to your right, his gaze glued to your side. The view is beautiful, but the feeling of being watched isn’t ignorable anymore, and so you turn to your companion and raise your eyebrows at him, wondering if he has something to say.

You don’t know how you’ll be able to come back to your life after this and pretend you still don’t want to spend every passing second with the man on your right. You don’t know how you’re supposed to ignore the ever so growing love for him– even though after being so disappointed with the past, the feelings should be decreasing, not doing the opposite– and frankly, you don’t even want to think of going back to the way it’s been for the past few months. And so you don’t– you allow yourself to indulge the moment, to ignore the pain that’s about to come, just so you could hold another beautiful memory to your heart and enjoy the moment before it hurts you to think of it tomorrow morning. 

“It’s even more beautiful than the last time,” Mark hums, but his eyes never leave your figure– if you were still dating, you bet he’d come out with a cheesy line about how you’re prettier than the view, or something. “It didn’t rain this time around, thank god.”

Gazing at him, you shake your head in disbelief. Scoffing, you play with the grass between your fingers. “You remember that?”

“Yeah,” he hums, “I remember a lot of things.”

The sentence makes you bitterly chuckle. He knows why you’re reacting the way you are– and you have every right to. He claims to remember a lot of things, but the ones important to you, the ones you wanted him to remember, he failed to save into his memory. And that’s eventually what made you break up with him, at the end of it all.

At your reaction, he sighs and drags a hand across his face, seemingly realizing the weight of his own words and just how ridiculous he must have sounded to you right now. 

“I- That-” he stutters, shaking his head, “that sounded stupid right now, considering… everything… Didn’t it?”

“Kind of,” you nod, not wanting to meet his eyes. 

“I’m sorry,” he blurts out, voice suddenly raw and serious, so different to the tone he’s been using with you the whole afternoon, “I don’t- I can’t remember if I said that back then, when you- when you… broke up with me, but I really am sorry, Y/N. You didn’t deserve that, and I am in no way shape or form trying to make this about me, but I hate myself every day for the way things turned out and if I could go back to that day, I’d do so many things differently.”

The sky in front of you deepens in reds and you taste iron on your tongue, suddenly hyper-aware of the fact that you’ve managed to bite on your lip too hard in the midst of the conversation. Tearing out stems of grass with your clammy fingertips, you focus on the clouds running through the sky, calculating your next response.

“Okay,” you nod, not giving him much else. The answer perfectly encapsulates the way you feel on the inside right now– you don’t know if you’re ready to accept his apology, if you’re ready to let go of it and act like you weren’t hurt or that none of it ever happened, but you listened to him and you internalized his words. He is sorry. He knows he was in the wrong. And you were aware that he knew all of this before– hell, you’d even go as far as say he knew it the moment you knocked on his door that day and told him it was over– but hearing it from him surely moved something inside of you to a more comfortable place.

“I-” he starts, voice breaking making him clear his throat before he continues, “I don’t expect you to forgive me. And I know I shouldn’t have expected you to still be my friend after all of this, and that- I shouldn’t have even called you so many times and approached you at the store and stuff, but um-” he mumbles, shrugging to himself, “I guess I just couldn’t stay away from you. And again, I don’t expect you to forgive me, I don’t expect you to do anything, really. So… yeah…”

Snickering at his aimless monologue, you shake your head in disbelief. “Mark?”

“Yeah?” he stares at you, eyes a bottomless pool of emotion.

“Why did you invite me here today? What was the… point, I guess?” you ask, hugging your knees to your chest as the breeze makes goosebumps appear all over your body. 

Mark offers you a sad smile, head leaned to his right as he shrugs, and this time, his eyes don’t leave yours as he spills the truth into the air. “I guess I was just feeling selfish today,” he hums, and the sentence makes you cringe with the memory of his first call to you after your break up, “wanted to spend time with you.”

“Here, of all places?”

“Yeah,” he nods, “told you. I was feeling selfish.”

Snickering, you look away, staring at the sky again. The colors are starting to blend together into a deep, dark purple– the horizon darkening as the sun starts to say its final goodbyes to the day. You sigh to yourself, yet feel no bitterness or terror at his words. Somehow, you understand. Somehow, you get him a little too well. Somehow, you think you knew the moment he texted you today, and somehow, you think you felt it in your bones when you didn’t say no, although you could have. There’s calmness in your soul when you nod at the implication of his words, leaning back on your elbows and plopping your bottom to the ground, sitting at the dusty surface. 

“You said you didn’t expect anything out of me today, Mark.”

“And I don’t,” he says, voice soft. 

“And you brought me here to remind me of the last time we went?” you stare at him, a hint of a bitten-back smile playing with your lips. “Because you’re selfish?” 

He nods, not escaping your gaze. “To remind you of the last time we went. To show you that… I remember, I guess. And that I still care, just like the last time. If not more.”

“Mark, you can’t just say all of this and expect nothing out of me right now,” you mutter.

“Actually, I can. Because that’s what I’m doing. I’m just… laying it out in the open, and what you do with the information is completely, completely up to you,” he explains, and you find yourself chuckling at him, the atmosphere instantly lighter as you hear his voice in its usual casualness, talking to you as if he was just unpacking what went on in class today, and not the starting and the end of your one year relationship.

And he’s right. What you do with the information is completely up to you, and the next steps and the progress of your relationship with Mark Lee is also completely in your hands. You could turn away and never talk to him again, you could curse at him and tell him that it’s too late now and he missed his chance, but if that was the case, you wouldn’t be here in the first place. He wouldn’t be inviting you to this place, lying about his roommate canceling just to trick you into going, and you wouldn’t be blindly accepting the invitation, wanting to see where the afternoon brings you. 

“So you still care about me?” you hum, looking at him from under your eyelashes, noticing his slouched-over pose as he looks back at you over his shoulder.

“Always have,” he admits, “never stopped. Despite not really… acting like it in the past few months.”

“Why’d you stop acting like it, then?” you ask.

A sigh escapes his lips, his head turning forward before he leans back and sits cross-legged on the ground, more comfortably now. Shrugging, he answers the question. “I guess I just got too caught up with different things. And don’t get me wrong, you were always my priority, always, but I was all over the place with everything and my mind just couldn’t… there were too many things to keep up with and I couldn’t stay up to date with everything,” he says, “and I know it’s not an excuse, but it’s an explanation, and it doesn’t make it better or undo the pain I’ve caused you, but it’s… at least you know it was never because I’d care about you any less.”

His eyes bear into yours with such honesty you think the weight of the world will crash on you any minute, and suddenly, the whole situation seems so much clearer.

And you wouldn’t take it back, you wouldn’t undo the breakup or do anything differently, because at the end of the day, you think it was needed. Perhaps the time apart was what he needed as a wake up call and what you needed to shield yourself from hurting more. 

“Stop me from saying it if you… if you don’t want to hear it right now,” he hums, voice barely louder than a whisper. There seems to be a silent communication between the two of you, a connection of some sort that brings out the strange telepathy, but you just nod at him, a gentle smile playing with your lips as you understand exactly what he means, telling him that it’s okay and that you don’t mind– you welcome, you need to hear him say it again.

Licking his lips, he turns to you fully, facing you. There’s not a hint of nervousness in his body, having done this a lot of times before, and then it happens– the repeated confession, confirming what was there the whole time, never leaving even when the times were rough. 

“I love you,” he says.

And isn’t that all that’s needed? 

A year is a long time with someone. Somehow, you wouldn’t want the time to go to waste. At the end of the day, if love is still present, isn’t it worth trying? One more time?

“And you still don’t expect anything from me?” you ask, gazing at him softly. “You don’t expect me to say it back?”

“No,” he breathes out, shrugging. “I just needed to get it off my chest.”

“Because you’re selfish like that,” you nod, teasing him. 

“Because I’m selfish like that,” he agrees, breaking out into a slight grin.

Looking at the sky, now completely dipped in dark purple, you sigh to yourself at the turmoil of the conversation. You don’t say it back– although you feel it, you know it’s in there, playing with your heartstrings and clenching the muscle in the palm of its hand– you know love is there, deep inside, for the man that’s currently staring at you as if you hung the very stars appearing on the sky there yourself, stolen them from your own eyes and gluing them there selflessly, for everyone to see. You don’t tell him you love him back, you don’t tell him you forgive him or accept his apology. You don’t worry about what tomorrow will bring you, what your brain is going to tell you when you come down from the hill and get home, lay in your bed and overthink. You let the worries escape you, letting fondness and calm envelope you in a tight hug instead.

“Okay,” you nod, watching the boy next to you look at you with curious eyes. You take his hand into yours and place it on your thigh, playing with his fingers for a heartbeat before you meet his eyes again and smile. “I won’t say it back, but for all it’s worth, Mark… I’m glad you remembered.”

And that’s all he needs– there is love, there is fondness, and there is the silent confirmation that all you need right now is just a bit more time. 

Where do broken hearts go?

Somehow, you think they hold on to the place where it all started. Somehow, you think your heart never went anywhere– it stayed on this hill, waiting for you to pay it a visit and pick back up everything right from where you left it.

“It doesn’t seem like a good idea to go here today, Y/N,” Mark laughed behind you as he looked up to the sky, the dark clouds shielding the sun that had been previously shining down on your hiking figures, casting an orange glow on the strands of your hair. 

“Well, there’s no turning back now,” you shrugged, turning to him and grinning as you tugged on his hand, grip strong as you dragged the boy up the trail, your sneakers fast against the dirty ground. “We have finals starting next week and it’s gonna be too cold to go after the exam season is over, so we gotta go now.”

“I kind of regret telling you that I’ve never been here before now,” Mark sighed, but followed you nonetheless, breathlessly following your excited stride. It was October, the leaves on the trees were welcoming the two of you in shining colors, and the wind kissing your skin turned a bit chilly in the evenings– courtesy of the warm hoodie Mark shyly lended you when you shivered for the first time, adoring the way you, his friend, looked in the light gray fabric. Something about you wearing his clothes made the boy a bit hopeless about the day. Maybe he’ll have enough courage to confess his feelings to you, he thought. Maybe, despite the first raindrops falling on the skin of his bare arms, this evening will have a happy ending for you and him. 

“Oh, please,” you squinted at him, continuing to run up the hill– thank god it wasn’t that steep, serving both of you as the perfect hiking difficulty, “even if you wouldn’t have, I’d drag you here anyway. It’s like, my favorite place to go in Seoul, haven’t I told you before?”

You have, Mark thought. But he was okay with hearing it again. 

You squealed when the raindrops got heavier and the rain started pouring faster on the two of you, and Mark found himself laughing at your running figure. He was right behind you, praying that you don’t slip on one of the rocks and break your leg on the hiking trail, but he encouraged you with sweet comments and a hand on the small of your back as he watched the tip of the hill appear right in front of his very eyes, your body coming to a satisfied halt when you reached your destination.

“Tada!” you grinned at him, twirling a little like a ballerina, showing him the place with outstretched arms. He tried hard to observe the place, but his eyes stayed glued to your excited figure, gaze bearing into yours as you looked at him, amidst a little flustered, with sparkly orbs and a bright smile on your face. Your hair was a mess, his gray hoodie enveloping your body was slowly growing darker in color from absorbing the rain, and your sneakers were getting a bit muddy from walking around the place. He wanted to remember this moment forever, he thought– this version of you, the smiley expression on your face, the carefree and excited nature of your step. 

“Isn’t it beautiful?” you exclaimed, jumping around and nearing the boy, but as you went to take his hand to drag him around the top of the hill once more, your feet slipped and you fell forward, a surprised squeak battling its way out of your throat.

Your whole life flashed in front of your very eyes in that moment, embarrassment spreading down your neck at the fact that you were about to fall face first onto the ground in front of your crush of a few months, before your body collided with a soft, yet firm mass engulfing you closer. A pair of strong arms steadied you against his chest, and when you looked up at your friend, you swear all words were taken out of your dictionary, the sight leaving you speechless.

“It is,” he gaped, eyes bearing into yours. Mark was agreeing with you, but something in the back of your head was telling you that he didn’t really admire this place as much as you did– his curious gaze was always plastered somewhere completely else. 

That place being your face, of course. And your eyes, your cheeks, the mess of your bangs, and occasionally– screw that, almost always– your lips. Much like in that moment, a few centimeters away from his face, so inviting he thought it would be a crime to contain the urge. 

And so he didn’t– he didn’t control his feelings and the ever-so growing yearning for you, as he silently leaned towards your face and captured his lips with yours in a firm, yet short kiss.

He looked at you with a nervous tint behind his gaze when he leaned away, the sight of your wide eyes staring at him making a slight flush grow on his cheeks. You looked so beautiful in that moment– flustered, surprised, with messy hair and lips still apart– and he was relieved to not find a hint of a displeased emotion in your expression. 

“Okay, so- well-” you stuttered, laughing to yourself, “this didn’t go as I planned, but I guess I’m happy as long as the final result is the same,” you hummed, standing on your tippy-toes and pressing your lips against him once more, this time letting yourself enjoy the moment fully, mouth moving against his in a careful, yet excited rhythm. He tasted like the strawberry candy you offered him on the bottom of the trail and smelled a bit like rain, the mixture always staying in the depths of your mind as his warmth enveloped you in comfort and a feeling of home.

“The final result being…?” he asked when you pulled apart once again, a dazed expression overtaking his sharp features.

“Us,” you shrugged, “like this,” you clarified.

Mark laughed at that, hugging you closer to his chest. You rested your head on his shoulder, listening to the sound of raindrops washing away the top layer of dirt off the rocks on the tip of the hill, hands sneaking around his waist and enjoying the way they wrapped around him so tightly and so comfortably. You in his hoodie, in your favorite place, standing in his arms. It was raining, but it didn’t matter.

“Mark?” 

“Hm?” 

“If we ever get lost, or something happens… bring me back here, okay?” you mumbled close to his ear, lips gently glazing the skin of his ear, making goosebumps appear all over your new lover. “I’m convinced that this place could fix everything.”

“Even us?” 

“Don’t be ridiculous. You’re not allowed to ever leave me now, what would there be to fix between us?” you smacked his shoulder, snickering to yourself.

“You never know,” he laughed, “what if I accidentally mess up somewhere along the way?” he asked, threading his fingers through your hair, smoothing down the wet mess.

“Okay then,” you hummed, “even us.”

Staring into your eyes, letting the moment play out by itself, Mark swore he’s never felt more at peace. He wondered if it was the effect of the place, the rain, or just your sheer presence.  “I’ll remember that,” he giggled before he let go of your body, petting your head as he took a hold of your hand, tugging you down from where you came from, “now let’s go home before we catch a cold.”

Nodding, following the man as you both carefully, yet fastly made it down the trail, you enjoyed the way his hand fit into yours and the way you knew that after this, you can’t ever come back to being friends with Mark Lee. He was all yours, completely, utterly yours, and you knew in the back of your head, that you were his– and nothing will ever change that.

You would always come back to the hill with him. It felt ridiculous to think about you two ever having to fix anything between the two of you back then, but even in that moment, you knew that for him, you’d keep trying. As long as he does– as long as he remembers.

Where do broken hearts go? You guess they always come right back to the place they come from– and they leave glued back together every single time.

You guess your heart never really left the hill.

[scary-lasagna]

I LOVED THE VAMPIRE POST SMM. So like would Liu, EJ, BEN and Jeff let their vampire s/o bite them and drink their blood?

Homicidal Liu

Liu is squeamish when it comes to blood due to his past trauma of obvious reasons.

And even with a high pain tolerance, he wouldn't voluntarily allow himself to be bitten.

Many risks come with the first bite; An artery could be sliced, blood infection, too much blood loss, you hate the way his blood tastes so therefore you will hate him forever.

That last one was just Liu's imgaination running wild, but all together it's pretty risky.

He might offer a test bite, not a full chomp, but a little nibble on his arm to see how it feels. A pinprick was all he could describe it as.

But he quickly backed out once he caught wind of the blood trickling down his arm.

He might allow a second attempt, but not anytime soon. 

Sully, however, is a different story. He would let you drink this body dry, and force Liu forward in the middle of it just to be a sadistic asshole. 

Either way, they're both willing to try at least once.

Eyeless Jack

Jack doesn't think that you would enjoy his blood very much.

Much like the liquid that seeps from his eye sockets, his blood has a tar-like consistency. 

It wouldn't go down easy, and if your body rejects it since it's not truly 'blood', it won't come back up easy either.

Ultimately, Jack says no due to your safety. It just too big of a risk for Jack to feel comfortable letting you take a bite out of him.

Jelly donuts are better, anyway. Especially at 3am while everyone else is asleep.

BEN

BEN will act tough and dominant up until it's actually time for you to bite him.

He'll get squirmy and find excuses to delay the inevitable now that he's talked the big talk and agreed to do it.

You'll of course call him out on it, and will nervously sit down and away from his stack of DS games that he wanted to organize alphabetically. 

"Are you sure you want to do this?" You ask him, with a comforting hand on his knee.

"Yeah.." Ben sighs and rubs the back of his neck with a nervous tic. " I'm just afraid it'll hurt or I make a weird noise or something." He chuckles lightly.

"We can start, and if you want to stop we can and I won't judge you for it." You reassure. "Or we can do blood lettings which doesn't involve biting."

"It's that like plague doctor shit, though?"

"Well yeah but it doesn't invol-"

"Just take a bite, babe."

He trusts you with all of his heart. And he lets you take a bite.

And yes, he does make a weird sound.

Jeff

Oh hell yeah, fucking go for it.

No questions asked.

Jeff thinks it's hardcore, and frankly, he's not experienced enough to know the dangers of blood letting or blood biting. He just thinks your hot and that you wanna bite him.

And honestly? Go for it. He's probably got a few diseases lurking in there but you're immortal so it doesn't affect you.

He would urge you to keep going even after he feels light headed, just ot see how long he can stay awake.

Jeff can be an extremely convincing individual, but do not trust him.

He can and will pass out and then you will have to call Eyeless Jack and explain everything to him.

He will not be happy.

Jeff will try to kiss him thinking that he's you.

And then Jeff will get swatted away and start crying out of rejection 

[glow-worms-are-believers]

Living off the (Si)grid (dp x dc)

Sigrid does not remember how long they have been waiting for someone to come but as time went on and Sigrid was still captive, it seemed as if they had truly been forgotten by all.

A failed experiment that had been left unfinished in the lab, nothing more than a project. And Sigrid had grown colder, their blue skin hardening like ice. And yet, even as the temperature drops and drops, their breath never clouds.

Dead things do not breathe and Sigrid is ice and snow, desolate and forgotten.

"Hello?" A voice says.

At first Sigrid believes they have imagined it.

"Is anyone here?" The voice sounds again.

Sigrid lifts their head, looking beyond the bars, the electrified door of their cells and searches for the voice's owner.

"Hey," Sigrid hears and then there is a floating figure, with snow hair and aurora eyes. Their chest tightens in familiarity.

"Hi." Sigrid has believed they'd forgotten how to speak but here they are, mouth and tongue working as they've done before.

"What's your name?" the boreal figure asks. "I'm Phantom."

That is a hero name, and Sigrid should give their own hero name in return but they do not feel like 'Icemaiden' any longer.

"Sigrid," they answer.

"You got ice powers, don't you? I can feel it." The figure floats down and approached Sigrid's cell, who tenses at the approach. "It's ok, I have ice powers too." Then, Phantom opens their palm and in it forms a crystallized ice drop.

Sigrid's eyes are wide open as they leaned in towards the ice, forgetting amidst the awe about the electrical barrier separating them.

The shock is painful and tears a cry out of them.

Immediately, Phantom is by their side as if no barriers can stop them, "Are you ok?" the borealis child asks and Sigrid blinks, but before they can answer, the ice child continues, worriedly. "I'll get you out right now."

Then Phantom is out of the cell, and is plunging a hand in the console in front of the cell. The constant buzz fades out and replacing it is a blessed sound of silence.

"You're free. Sorry, I should've started with that," the aurora child says, bashfully.

Sigrid looks out and cannot see the tell-tale shimmer of a force-field. Hesitantly, they take a step out and then another and another and they're out.

"I'm free," Sigrid repeats, hardly believing it. Phantom gives them a slight shy smile and Sigrid can not stop themselves from embracing the child. "Thank you." Their voice trembles and the sincerity in the words is unmistakable.

Softly, the child's arms come to rest on Sigrid's back in a gentle embrace.

This must be a dream, Sigrid thinks. If it is, they don't want to wake up.

[thelampisaflashlight]

Reject

"Aether thought he loved me." Dew says, settling down in the worn armchair across from Aeon, "But, he realized it was probably just... proximity."

"Proximity?" Aeon echoes, confused.

"...I guess a better way to put it is infatuation." he explains, "We were around each other so much, that when we weren't anymore, he wanted to see me more, but it wasn't because he wanted to date me; He just... wanted me close, because we knew each other so well, but time apart and distance taught us both that beyond being friends... there wasn't much there to found a relationship on, do you understand?"

Aeon shakes their head, "No, not really..."

Dew sighs, running a hand through his hair, shaking the ringlets as he scratches at his scalp, "...Sometimes, Aeon, you can care about someone, and want to be around them so much that you think, 'Wow, I really like them' and it makes you feel some kind of way... But at the end of the day, whatever it is, it doesn't hold water. It breaks apart easier than paper, and if you forge a relationship based purely around that, the fall out hurts."

"I don't... I still don't get what this has to do with how I feel about you." the younger ghoul whispers, hands clasped together, thumb rubbing over thumb, "...I really do think I'm in love with you."

Aeon lifts their head to see Dew leaning back in his seat, a tired, pained look on his face that feels like a gut punch, more than that, he looks...

Sad.

There's a wistful twinkle in his eyes that seems to shake and cry, "Don't do this, don't do this, don't do this to me, again-"

Still unable to shake the feeling in their chest, Aeon tries, once more, to articulate their feelings in a way that Dew will understand that they're real.

And Dew sits there, reliving an afternoon from years ago.

It's Aether in the chair across from him in his head.

It's him taking his love at face value.

It's a year of trying to make it work.

...And his world falling apart.

It's the realization that he's just a stepping stone; That there may really be no one that actually, really, truly loves him... wants him.

And it's the fear that every time he pushes away like he's doing now, with Aeon, that he might really be missing out on something good.

Something that actually has meaning.

So, to avoid ever knowing the answer, he digs his heels in and cuts the connection before it can snap back and hurt him more than it already has, as it already does.

"No." he says.

A full sentence and a million spiraling thoughts packed into one word.

In a while, after Aeon leaves, after the silence has turned into cold air and an empty room, Dew will go back to his dorm; He'll fall back into his bed, feeling the springs groan and the frame shake, and then he'll hear Mountain make a noise through the wall that sounds an awful lot like, "Are you okay?"

And he'll lay there, a million spiraling thoughts trying to condense down into a single word.

But instead of "No", his traitorous, lying tongue will say...

"Yeah."

"Yeah, Mount, I'm alright."

[dfortrafalgar]

I'm Losing You

Having a family isn't always as easy as fairy tales make it seem.

Law x Fem Reader

PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE read these warnings before reading this fic. Genuinely, I implore you. I started writing this fic on a whim a few weeks ago, when I was contemplating my own experiences with reproduction-related health conditions such as the one that will be addressed later on in this story (endometriosis). Reproductive education and health is something that I feel very strongly about, and I feel that topics such as pregnancy complications and loss aren't addressed enough in media for fear that they're too taboo or shocking. Which, to be fair, is true, at least for the shocking aspect. Pregnancy loss is difficult, traumatic, and life-changing, for better or for worse, truly dependent on the person and the world around them.

Now you might be wondering... why would you drag one piece into this? well, i don't know. i felt like it, perhaps. Law is a character who resonates very deeply to me, his character is emotionally complex and layered, and imagining him in a scenario like this one became very interesting to me. Combine that with everything i stated above and taddaa, you get this fic.

this story does and will eventually have a happy ending (a very happy ending!) however it will take a bit to get there. this is a multi-chapter fic that i'm moving from my ao3 to my new blog, and the same warnings there apply here.

if this fic doesn't seem like your cup of tea, i encourage you to check out some of my other fics on my blog. i have a few law/readers that are tooth-rottingly fluffy and much more feel good.

with all that out of the way, thank you for reading.

Chapter 1

[Next]

The air in the room was as stifling as a sauna from the stress and anxiety filling the air.  It was so silent, the tiles surrounding the small area blocking any and all noise from outside.  The door was closed, caging you in.

You were sitting on the toilet lid, your hands rapidly perspiring and your whole body shivering with nerves.  Across from you, your husband had his arms crossed, his head hung low, his heel bouncing off the floor.  The tension was unlike anything you had ever experienced, however this had unfortunately become the norm for the past six months.

On the side of the sink sat a long white stick.  Neither of you wanted to look at it.

“Do you think it’s ready now…?” you asked, inwardly cringing at how pathetic and weak your wobbly voice sounded.

Law picked his head up, his golden eyes creased in profound concern and worry.  “It should be.  Five minutes, right?”

“I think so,” you replied.  With a trembling hand, you grabbed the stick from the counter.  Law watched your every movement with a close eye.  With a deep breath, you flipped over the test and gazed at the result window.

A single red line.

After the last failed attempt, you made a joke that you didn’t have any more tears left in you to cry, but clearly that wasn’t the case as fat, salty tears rapidly welled in your eyes and flowed down your cheeks.  Law immediately knew what the result was the second your lips twitched downward.  His heart sank into his stomach, immediately stepping toward you, grabbing the test from your hand and blindly chucking it into the small garbage can in the corner.  He knelt on the floor in front of you to pull you into his chest.

“Damn it…” you whimpered.  Your body forced you to take a shuddering inhale before sobbing an anguished, “FUCK!!!!”

Law’s heart broke.  He didn’t even know what to say to comfort you anymore.  6 months of failed attempts at conceiving a very wanted baby had caused nothing but pain to both of you.  You had both been scientific about the process.  All birth control and protection was ceased, and the two of you were religiously tracking your cycle to make sure you would try during your ovulation window, but nothing but failure after failure showed up.

You thought you were broken.

Law thought he was broken.

You wept into his shoulder, your body shuddering with each pained sob that crawled from your sore throat.  Law’s hands were frozen around you, firmly gripping your back.  You couldn’t see the tears that were forming in the corners of his stern eyes, biting his lip and forcing every muscle in his face to prevent those tears from slipping downward.  The last thing you needed was to see him cry, but he didn’t know how much longer he’d be able to hold it in.

“Law…” you whimpered into his shoulder.

Law stayed silent.

“I’m sorry–”

“Don’t you dare apologize,” he quickly retorted, cutting you off.  He felt you lurch in his arms.  “This isn’t your fault.  It’s not anyone’s fault… it’s…”

Now you stayed silent.

Law took his own shallow inhale.  “I… don’t know.”

For one of the only times in Law’s life, he was rendered completely incapable of speech.  Normally calm and analytical, looking for every possible solution or reason for an issue, he was now left completely helpless to the crashing waves of sheer dejection.  As your quivering body clung to him like a lifeline, his entire brain was scrambling for some sense, any logical thought, for the current predicament, but it was starting to become glaringly obvious to both of you.

It was very likely one of you was infertile.

When you finally picked your head up from his shoulder, Law’s previously broken heart fractured into even more irreparable pieces.

Your eyes were puffy, swollen and bloodshot from your tears.  Your entire face looked bloated from the force of your crying, and you were clearly flushed.  You looked, for lack of a better word, completely miserable.  Law helped you stand from the closed toilet seat, keeping your eyes away from the trash can where the negative pregnancy test lay on top of discarded tissues and makeup wipes, to guide you to your shared bedroom.  Neither of you had to say a word, you knew he was going to put you into your shared bed and let you get some much-deserved rest after the stressful eternity (10 minutes) you had just endured.  It was almost 8:00PM anyway, and regrettably, both of you still had work the following day.

You didn’t fight it when Law eased you down onto the mattress by your shoulders.  You kept your eyes pinned closed, not wanting to let your husband see any more of your beaten state.  You rolled over onto your side and hid in your pillows.  You didn’t hear Law mention that he would join you after cleaning up, and you didn’t notice the overhead light dimming.  You simply begged for sleep to take you quickly and painlessly.

When Law finally returned after washing his face, he gazed dejectedly at your weary form.  Finally asleep, fortunately, but your cheeks were glossy with fresh tears.  The man carefully crawled into bed behind you, carefully pulling your body into his.  He wished more than anything that he could make your pain go away.  He ran through the many years you had been together, and struggled to find a time where your sorrow was as profound as it was this evening.  His mind was constantly at war- his analytical, doctor side beginning to list specific reasons why this could be happening, and his sincere, passionate, loving husband side breaking apart reflecting over the sound of your sobs.

It could have been either of you.  But it also could’ve been both of you.  The thought was enough to finally force the tears in Law’s eyes to break free and travel down his cheeks.  Some of them plotted into your hair.

—

You awoke to the sound of whispering in your hallway outside the bedroom.  The blinds covering the window above the bed you shared with Law were pulled shut, but the sunlight still beamed through them leaving patterns on the walls and floor.  The side Law slept on was empty and freshly made.  No surprise, he left for work early in the morning after all.  You slowly sat up in bed, your head pounding.  The events of the previous evening came rushing back to you, but you felt nothing but an empty melancholy, a dark fog that hung over your brain and clouded your vision.

The door to your bedroom slowly opened.  You looked up just in time to see a very large, very fluffy cloud with four legs and two beady eyes come sprinting into your room.  Its feet ripped across the carpeted floor as It hopped on your bed with a loud huff, immediately snuggling on top of your duvet and leaning into your body for some much needed cuddles.

You mustered a weary laugh, your hands instinctively moving to the back of the dog’s neck to rub his fluffy cheeks from behind, eliciting happy grunts from the large animal.  He had his tongue out, a tiny pink blep among the sea of rich white fur.

“Bepo,” you sighed.  “You know Law doesn’t like it when you get on the bed.”

“He missed you!” called a voice from the hallway.  Spiky red hair appeared in the doorway.  “So did we, actually.  I hope I didn’t wake you up.”

Shachi had, actually, woken you up, but you didn’t need to tell him that.  “No, not at all.”  You shook your head.  Bepo’s tail was wagging in your face, causing you to sputter out small strands of loose fur from your mouth.  The red-head entered your bedroom, leaving the door open.  The smell of French toast instantly wafted into the space, making your mouth water and your eyes widen.  “Is Penguin cooking?”

“Yee-up,” Shachi replied, popping his lips to enunciate the word.  “Law invited us over, if you couldn’t tell.”  He flashed a smirk.  “You got the day off, by the way.”

Your eyebrows wrinkled in confusion.  “What?”

“Law called in sick for you,” the man confirmed.

You frantically reached for the night stand and grabbed your phone, tapping the screen to illuminate it.  It was almost 10:00AM, and sure enough, your alarm had been turned off.  Three texts from Law sat waiting on your screen, as well as two texts from your coworkers.

Baby~~<3

Sorry, I broke into your phone to turn your alarm off.  You get to sleep in today, I called you out sick.  I didn’t tell them anything, just that you weren’t feeling good.

Baby~~<3

Shachi and Penguin might be there when you wake up.  I did tell them a little about what happened, just so they know to give you space if you need it.

Baby~~<3

Call me if you need anything at all, I love you.

Ika-chan

I heard you called in sick today!!!  I hope you’re alright, let me know if you need anything!

Nami Swan

How r u feeling?  If u caut the flu u can blame Usopp :P

You smiled, your heart beating in your chest.  “You guys are too much sometimes.”

Shachi proudly rested his clenched fist over his sternum as a display of pride.  “Nothing is ever enough for your best friend!”  The sight made you chuckle.  

You were caught off guard by Penguin entering with a much larger platter of food than you ever expected.  He excitedly approached your bedside with a wide grin, marveling at his own work.  A bowl of mixed fruits, a plate of French toast drizzled with maple syrup and dollopped with a swirl of whipped cream, a small portion of sausage on the side, and a single unopened bottle of apple juice.  You graciously accepted the spread, but you’d be lying if you said you weren’t completely befuddled.

“You guys know I’m not actually sick, right?” you asked, glancing at your husband’s best friends with concern.  You shooed Bepo away from getting too close to the sausage.

“We know,” Penguin clarified.  “We can treat you to a nice breakfast even when you’re not sick, though!”

You smiled, forcing down the lump that formed in your throat.  “Thank you guys, I really don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“I know what you’d do,” Shachi stated.  “You’d eat your breakfast and savor every bite!”  He stood up from your bed and clapped his hands twice, beckoning Bepo off of the bed and over to his side.  “We’ll take Bepo for a walk around the neighborhood!  Take some time for yourself!”  The two men left with your dog in tow, leaving you to stare in awe at the spread of food.

Your mind was reeling.  Law’s text informed you that he had given his two friends a brief summary of what had happened, but you didn’t really mind.  If anything, it brought you some comfort to know that you and your husband’s two closest friends understood the predicament you were currently in and were more than willing to go out of their way to support you.  You also couldn’t help but smile at the thought of Law calling you out sick for the day, putting your passcode into your phone to turn off your alarm, and making sure his friends would be there for you when you woke up.  You were beyond grateful for such an incredible support system, but just to be on the safe side…

You grabbed your phone once more, opening your text messages with Law.

Good morning baby, thank you for calling me out.  Im feeling a bit better, Shachi and Penguin made me breakfast.  I hope you didnt give them too much grief ;3; Take care of yourself today, I’ll see you when you get home.  I love you!!! <333

With your breakfast completed, you slowly trudged to the bathroom to take a relaxing shower.  The sight of your negative pregnancy test filled you with nausea, but you pushed past the feeling and turned on the water.

[nightqueen1221]

hi!! can i ask for hanako, kou, tsukasa, nene, teru, and sakura reacting to y/n who bops their head like they're listening to music when they're happy? like there could be dead silence and then we have y/n bopping their head happily. and if its not too much to ask can it be a gn y/n? im so sorry for the long ask <//3 if u dont wanna take this request thats fine! love ur work :D! - 🐝

Hello my first emoji ayon! Apologies for this being late. This was also the only image I could find with all of them.

Hanako/Amane Yugi

-He finds it cute.

-Honestly, he really likes it since he can tease about it later.

-Every once in a while he'll float over to you and lift the headphones out or lightly tug on your earbuds to pull them out.

-"Whatchu listening to?" He asks.

-He's not really looking for answer, he just wants your attention.

-If you close your eyes while listening, he'll go in for a kiss just to see your surprised face.

-If you wear earbuds he'll ask if you can share.

-If you're ok with it, he gives comments about the music you listen to.

Nene Yashiro

-Honestly, she doesn't really judge you since she's just so happy she actully got a relationship, so when she sees you listening to music and bopping your head, she doesn't mind.

-She might every once in a while ask what song it is.

-If she knows the song she'll either talk about it or fawn over the band members/singer.

-You introduced her to a lot of diffrent types of music along with new bands and singers.

-Every once in a while she gets a sticky notes and writes songs she likes so you can listen to them. (Along with a few doodles in the corner.)

Kou Minamoto

-He's concerned.

-He thinks you're going to hit your head or something else since your not really paying attention to your surroundings.

-He usually has a hand wrapped around your waist just to make sure your safe.

-If you offer to listen to music with him, he'll accept. Perhaps you could dance together.

-I don't think he'd be a very good dancer so you might have to teach him if you know.

-If neither of you know, well you can just look like two idiots having fun.

-When you two dance im the school (if ever) Hanako is going to intervene. He'll probably trip Kou so he'll fall on you making him look like a pervert. And nobody else can see Hanako so they Kou is in the wrong.

-Hanako truly doesn't mean any harm by it, he's just trying to poke some fun.

-As long as you tell Kou he doesn't need to worry about you and you can handle your surroundings, he's a lot more comfortable.

Teru Minamoto

-Same thing with his brother, he worries you're going to get hurt and tries to avoid anything happening to you.

-He always had a ton of fangirls and the fact he choose means you matter to him more than you could imagine. (Same thing with his fans if you know what I mean.)

-He might even go as far as taking you things away if you don't listen to him.

-Don't worry, just give him puppy dog eyes and he'll give in faster than the speed of sound.

-Or cry, if you can cry on command good lord. He HATES to see a person he cares for in pain, so he'll do almost anything to make it stop.

-If you walk around while listening to music, he's right behind you with his hands on your shoulders to make sure you're safe. This does not change if your eyes are open.

-And if you do happen to have someone bump into you, are they going to have an earful from your boyfriend.

-So, just be careful around him and when you listen to music.

Sakura Nanamie

-It doesn't bother her in the slightest.

-She enjoys the stillness of sound, she's usually caught up with Tsukasa being loud, so just being in the same room as you, but not talking makes her enjoy these times together.

-She knows your not paying attention so she sometimes go up behind you and give a little kiss on your cheek. (Or on the lips depending on how far the relationship has gone.)

-When she wants your attention for either a question or because she simply wants affection, she'll lightly tap your shoulder or rub the back of your hand.

-She ALWAYS asks if you can give her attention beforehand, since she is very much aware of what it's like for someone to be forced into it.

-This also makes it very rare for her to ask for anything, but I'm getting off track.

-It's not a huge part of her life but she still thinks it kinda cute you do it

Tsukasa Yugi

-All he can think is, "Perfect opportunity".

-You're distracted AND can't hear him. He wants to prank or surprise you as much as possible. Having your attention on something else other than him (Which he is a bit offended by) Gives him the chance to shock you.

-At this point, it's not as surprising. The most shocking part is what he tries and do to gain your focus.

-He's given you things he's killed, which the offer is nice, the corpse is not.

-He'll incessantly bother you asking if he can listen to music with you.

-If you refuse, he'll do one of three things.

- 1. Continue to cry and complain

- 2. Take whatever you're listening to music on.

- 3. Get Sakura involved. Which ends up with your device getting confiscated.

-As fun as it is to mess with you, he gets super annoyed if you ignore him completely. And that leads to one of the items above.

-Just as long as you devote your time to mostly him, he's fine with whatever else you do.

[da-rulah]

Thank you for the plus size comfort fic! I LOVED it!

Would you be so kind as to consider Copia x f!sister of sin finding out they’re unexpectedly pregnant? She freaks out a little thinking he wouldn’t want to be a papa AND Papa! 🤣 (but of course… he does)

Absolutely, my darling! Thank you for sending in a request!

TW/ Pregnancy announcement, anxiety

He paced on the spot, practically wearing a hole into the linoleum of your shared bathroom. His hands behind his back, head down in thought. You sat on the edge of the clawfoot tub, fiddling with the strings of the tracksuit hoodie you'd borrowed from Copia earlier that day.

You were close to tears just thinking about the possibility that this could be your reality, let alone if it truly did become your reality...

And judging by Copia's current actions, he wasn't too thrilled either.

You couldn't blame him... With his current responsibilities, you getting accidentally knocked up can't have been on his agenda. You'd only been together a little over a year, still figuring out how a long-term future would work together with his Papacy. The last thing the pair of you needed was something tying you to each other for life when you weren't yet sure that was even a possibility.

No, a pregnancy would not be good. Papa would not want to be, well... a papa...

"Is it time yet?" he asked impatiently, eyes still boring into his own feet as he paced.

"Thirty seconds..." you mumbled.

He said nothing, keeping his pace up until the little egg timer you'd set up rang out obnoxiously. His head snapped to look at you, eyes wide as he stopped dead in his tracks.

Timidly, you stood and walked over to the sink, where three different kinds of pregnancy test sat in the basin. With each test you flipped over, you felt your stomach sink further, and further down...

Copia couldn't take it, wringing his hands in nervousness. "Well?"

You turned to look at him, tears freely falling over your cheeks, holding back a sob bubbling in your throat. You wanted to apologise, so sorry for ruining his life, his plans... But all you could do was cry, petrified that he'd be devastated to know you were in fact pregnant.

His eyes softened as he took a step towards you, holding your cheeks in his palms and wiping away the tears with his thumbs.

"Oh, amore... Per favore, don't cry!" He never could stand it when you cried... He pressed kisses to your cheeks as more tears replaced those he'd wiped away. "We can try again, sì?"

You looked up at him in confusion.

"W-what do you mean?" you sobbed.

"It's okay if it didn't happen this time, we can try again... If you'd like to," he comforted. It dawned on you then, that he believed you were crying because the tests were negative.

"C-Copia... They're positive... All of them," you explained slowly. His brow furrowed, suddenly confused.

"But... you were crying, amore. I thought..." His face fell when he realised you were crying at the thought of actually being pregnant, and not that you weren't like you'd thought. "You don't want a baby..."

He sounded so dejected, so sad... it panicked you, you were upsetting him. But of course you wanted a baby with him. You'd seen that and so much more for the two of you a month into your relationship, you just... never expected him to want one.

You'd been so nervous to tell him, and as soon as you announced you were late he'd rushed out of the front door to grab a bag full of tests. He'd seemed so panicked, not uttering a word to you and just darting...

"I'm sorry, cara, I had it wrong it seems..." his hands dropped from your cheeks and he took a step back, his cheeks aching with the pain of holding back tears of his own.

"No! Copia, no... I'm sorry. Don't cry, I do, I do want one..." you panicked, rushing to follow him and hold him to you by his cheeks. "I just thought you wouldn't want one... At least not now, with all your duties, and..."

He silenced you with a sudden kiss, full of longing, full of need. You let him, his hands holding you to him by your hips as you cupped his face still.

"I should have said, eh?" he chuckled awkwardly. "I ran out so quickly. Scusami tanto (I'm truly sorry)."

You shook your head quickly, dismissing his apology and laughing as new tears surfaced - tears of joy.

"Are you sure, Copia? A baby... you want that with me?" you asked him, searching his eyes for any doubt. You found none.

"Amore," he pressed his nose to yours, "I want the world with you..."

I hope this is the kind of thing you meant, and that you enjoyed it!

[nalyra-dreaming]

Chryed3 said: Like you I like complicated stories with well layered characters and therefore have been drawn to the writings of Anne Rice. Prefacing by saying , even though the vampires are monsters, I love them for their imperfections—very human. I’ve been rereading the books and faithfully watching the TV series. Chef kisses to Rolin Jones team. Of course including the actors. I’m a Loustat cheerleader but also enjoy the other multiple relations throughout the series.

However, what I keep returning to over and over is Louis’ betrayal of Lestat. Having been on this planet myself for over 70 years and in a few relationships I know how devastated I was when a soon-to-be ex-lover had not been trustworthy, lied, and, or being too personal, just devastated me, the relationship etc. And then for Louis to silently agree to “We’re going to kill Lestat” had to break Lestat’s heart and soul. There’s no going back. (I know, Lestat can be very forgiving) But even centuries of living can’t change or annul that deep hurt.

But Lestat, monster that he is, is almost a sweetheart in that regard and I know we’re going to see it, but Louis needs to step up to the plate-. (having read the books I know he eventually does)

All of this to say , THAT is the moment I want to see. And that is when I’ll cry my eyes out in relief. Once again, I know we’ll get there but, gosh, sometimes I just want to slap Louis and say, “Snap out of I!” and I’ve never hit anyone in my life. That’s how great Jacob is doing his job and that’s how annoying Louis can be to evoke such feelings. No wonder Jacob asked people not to hate Louis. Jacob is doing such a great jog that whoa, it’s difficult not to be annoyed🙂

Love your blog. Sorry for the long post.

________

No apologies necessary :)))

And sending you a big hug for that emotional pain you have endured :/ I hope the wounds are healing, truly 💕

And yes - it had to break Lestat's heart to hear that. And I firmly believe that this is part of what sent him spiraling, though not all of course. But the pain of knowing the betrayal, before it happens? To wait for it? Stifling pain.

I think that is why "murder night" was almost a relief, finally. It happened, the dice were rolling, and with it came acceptance.

Louis says it in s1, but time offers perspective, and when Louis and Lestat will meet again properly - not at the trial I mean - then they both will have had time to reflect, to digest. To change, just a bit.

I mean, that is what happens with Lestat in the books, too, doesn't it. And Louis. They both get the time to let the feeling pass... and return to the longing for the other.

We, as mortals, usually do not have this extra time. We do not have 50 to 70 years we can sit back and just wallow in the feeling of betrayal, until it's diluted enough for us to move on from it.

Some people may be able to do it faster.

But I think it speaks for itself that even Lestat wasn't able to do it faster. I mean... we'll see it how they spin it at the trial, but even later, much later, there is still a certain pettiness between them, a certain grudge, that exists.

And in the show... I think one cannot quite say if the Lestat reaching out to Louis there via Armand (in 2x05) has already stomached the betrayal. Because it is one thing to have an acute point of worry, which this is, and another to forgive the other when they're back whole and safe and sound.

And so I think that... the decades apart is what offers them perspective. And forgiveness. Just like in the book.

And I think Anne was painfully aware when she wrote it like this. I'm not sure "we" could forgive like that. But... they, other than we do, have the time.

[gfguren]

hidan x (fem) reader x kakazu | smut, plot if you squint, back on my hidan delulus, morally questionable reader with an even more morally question duo | cw: cursing, choking, biting, voyeurism, imbalanced power dynamic, mentions of blood and human bounties

-hidan and kakazu make a bet at your expense-

You're an enigma; sweet, addicting like sugar, an angel wandering through the hell that is this hole in the wall. And you smile at them, everytime, as if there's not a half lifeless body slung over Hidan's shoulder, as if Kakazu's stare isn't cold enough to freeze hell twice over. Hidan wonders how a thing like you ended up here, something about debts and making ends meet and he doesn't really get it, but what he does know is that he burns to get you in his bed, itches to make the sweet thing that is you cry.

And he's certainly not subtle about it.

"What a pain," Hidan slings the unconscious stranger from one shoulder to the other, effortlessly, as if he weighs nothing at all. "Did they say he had to be in one piece? He'd certainly be lighter without an arm or two."

"So will you if you fuck with my bounty." Kakazu's voice is gruff, adding a disgruntled, "We're almost there, shut up and keep walking."

Kakazu doesn't miss the slew of curses Hidan spouts but chooses to ignore them, for now. "At least we get to see our sweet girl."

"Our?" Kakazu snorts.

"Admit it, you old bastard. I see the way you look at her."

"It's business." Kakazu is firm, unwavering as if he believes his own lie. "That's all."

"Well that 'business' is going to be in my bed tonight, join us or don't, I guess."

Kakazu considers ignoring him, settling on an unconvincing, "Not interested."

Hidan leans close to his partner, and Kakazu has to restrain himself from pummeling him to the forest floor when he jabs a bony elbow between his ribs. "Bet you 500 ryo I'll make her cry."

Kakazu grunts, an almost amused sound that doesn't sound too much like a no and Hidan grins even when the larger man pushes him aside, sure that he's finally got him hooked. Now all he has to do is reel, or just shut up until they arrive. A daunting task, truly.

The bounty shop, if you can call this downtrodden hole in the wall that, is peaceful tonight, it usually is when all the smaller bounties have been filled, and all that's left are the hardened, big name criminals that are more or less a death wish. But they pay well, extremely well, and only two types of people ever take them, or at least make it back to you in one peace: the desperate, and the crazy. And there are exactly two people you know in the latter category; it's for that exact reason you're excited, watching, waiting, tapping your fingers against the counter in anxious anticipation.

Maybe they're not crazy, just stupidly strong, you're still unsure after all this time. But you know they're mysterious, fun, attractive as all hell, unlike the creepy, leering men that usually come around, leer over you but would never dare touch you, because you're his - Kakazu's little broker. More precisely, you're a means to an end, to his money, and nobody fucks with Kakazu's money, and lives that is.

The only one with the gall to touch you is Hidan, brazenly rash, maybe stupid, but Kakazu doesn't seem to mind. Neither do you, really. And you suppose they can be that way too sometimes, leering, hungry, predatory as if they'll devour you in a single, wolfish gulp - but only if you say please.

And you would, by the gods you would.

The door swings open, the rickety thing nearly falling from it's hinges when it slams against the wall with a not too subtle - bang! You jump, heart settling only when Hidan's bickering echoes down hall. Neither heaven nor hell can shut him up when he gets like that, but when he turns the corner, maroon eyes locking with yours, wide like startled doe, his mouth shuts in an instant. He doesn't miss a beat, skulking over to you with that smarmy grin of his, and leaning over the counter. You could mimic the words about to leave his lips, in the exact tone and inflection, if you wanted to.

"Busy tonight, baby?"

Your smile is a genuine one, the rare kind that you save in a jar, spend only in their presence. You point at the body slung over his shoulder. "I am now."

"And after?"

You hum, pretend to think as you shuffle through records, doing your best to match the bounty's mangled face with the one on the page. "Dunno. What's it to you, stranger?"

He's clearly amused, bounty slipping from his shoulder and onto the floor. Your protest catches in your throat when Hidan all but leaps over the counter, the flimsy manila folder in your palms quickly becoming the only thing between your body and his. "I've seen a bit too much of you to be called a stranger, yeah?"

His hands wander beneath the hem of your shirt, fingers leaving a burning trail up your spine. You shudder. "Who are you again?"

He laughs, "The type to hold a grudge, I see."

"You left me alone that night, after you - after we - I thought..."

"Did you think I didn't want you?" He's not subtle about the way he gropes your curves, all but humps your thigh. "Baby, I would have devoured you."

Your face is burning, acutely aware of the second pair of eyes staring you down, but he's not fazed a bit, leaning in until his lips slant over your own. "You're just lucky the old bastard barged in, him and his damn bounties." The glare he shoots Kakazu is smoldering but short lived, and he leans in to whisper against your ear, "Really, I just think he was jealous."

"I can hear you," Kakazu grunts, prodding at the bounty with the toe of his boot, making sure he's still breathing, at least.

Hidan ignores him.

"But since you're so hot about it, let me make it up to you, yeah?" He's suckling at your neck, enticing you like honey, encouraging you to drink, drink, drink. "Promise I'll make it worth your while."

And you swallow every last drop, knowing full well it's poison.

Hidan's hands are still bloody when he strips you, pushes you down on the disheveled futon and leers over you, eyes clouded with lust. But you're not complaining, not that you could with one of his big hands wrapped around the base of your throat, the other between your legs, three fingers deep inside of you. His grin is borderline sinister when he curls his fingers, watches you squirm beneath him like the sweet, pathetic thing that you are.

He has half a mind to grant you mercy, but only half; the other itches to devour you, excites at the thought of sinking his teeth in your throat and spilling your pretty red blood all over the sheets - and that half nearly wins, saved only by Kakazu, grunting a displeased sound from the corner of the room when he tries.

Hidan settles on an almost painful trail of violet instead, granting you breathing room just long enough to press his rough fingers against the bruises blooming beneath the curve of your jaw.

You whimper, a pathetic sound that teeters on a plea, desperate gaze meeting Kakazu's bored one; he's lazing in the worn armchair, a relic of this rundown inn that's perfectly normal sized but entirely too small beneath him, dwarfed by his goliath-like stature. You're not sure why he tagged along, trudging in the shadow of Hidan's excited silhouette without a single word or notable flicker of interest.

Still you're not complaining, you'd lay down your life for him - it's belonged to him for a long time anyway - so if he wanted to touch you, take you, consume your entire being and hold it hostage, teetering on the mercy of his whims -

You'd let him, if only he asked.

He's only watching, Hidan had said so, and honestly a part of you is disappointed; you'd be lying if you said you didn't find him intriguing, hellishly attractive, hadn't fantasized about him touching you with those big, rough hands of his that had taken so many lives, but deigned to save that of your insignificant one - even if it was only for his benefit.

He saved you, used you for his own gain and you knew it well enough from the beginning, but it didn't matter, not to you; you were able to escape from the war torn streets, given a reason to live when you had lost everything, even gained a strange sense of companionship with the detached, lumbering stranger, not quite friendly, romantic, or measurable in any sense of the word; just kind of there.

Unlike the odd, semi-tangible affair with that of his hot tempered companion, who couldn't hide a single thought, emotion, or desire if he tried - which you'd bet a pretty penny he never had.

He's passionate, and hot, and you're attracted to him in every sense of the word, but there's also a place in your chest that's he's crept into, taken refuge in Kakazu's shadow. And you know there's no place like that for you in their twisted, brambled hearts - perhaps you're still that street urchin Kakazu found all those years ago, begging for scraps of their affection.

"I thought you were going to make her cry, but you can't even keep her attention." The gravel of Kakazu's voice draws you back, grounds you to reality where Hidan's calloused fingers delve deeper, rougher and borderline feral at his taunt, vision blurry from his hand around your throat; but when he stands to leave, seemingly bored, Hidan's quick to pull his fingers from your core entirely, leaving you to feel empty and wanting, clenching around nothing in his absence.

"You're so damn impatient, fine." He coaxes your mouth open, presses his digits, still coated in your slick, against your own tongue. "Wanted to take my time with you, savor you," his breath is hot against your face, fingers prodding deeper, deeper, deeper until you're gagging, tears gathering in the corners of your eyes. "Kakazu never did understand showing reverence, taking the time to worship and praise and adore something, other than his own damn wallet that is." He retrieves his hand, leaving you gasping for air as he wipes your saliva across the hollow of your cheek. "Guess I'll have to devote myself to you in another way, I'll be sure to keep your attention this time."

You're still reeling when Hidan's head dips, disappears between your thighs until you're gasping, fingers tangled in his silver strands of hair.

You moan an exasperated and breathless, "Hidan."

And it excites him more than he cares to admit, spurs him on, has your eyes rolling back when he flattens his tongue against your sex, teeth grazing your folds.

His big hands spread your thighs, holds them apart in their bruising grip when you try to close them around his head, overstimulated with pleasure. And the bastard laughs, laughs when you try to pull away, whimpering pathetically when he circles your clit with the flat of his tongue. You nearly cum right then and there when he glances up at you, maroon eyes clouded with lust, shadowed beneath his dark lashes.

He smirks, lips coated in your slick. "Finally got your attention?"

"Don't get cocky," you sigh, absentmindedly running a hand through his tussled hair. It's gentle and intimate almost, and he's quick to grab your wrist, nipping at your pulse just to feel it stutter.

"Careful, I might get curious if you're just as sweet when you bleed."

The implication terrifies you, because that's not a bluff, not to people, criminals, fanatics like Hidan - but it also excites something inside of you, has your thighs clenching around nothing like a depraved virgin.

"Ooh-ho, you'd like that, wouldn't you?" His grin spreads across your skin, disappearing between your thighs. "Gonna have to take that up with Kakazu." He fits two fingers inside of you, curling them until your eyes wrench shut and your back arches against the futon. "He'd have my head if I hurt his pretty little meal ticket, so I won't-" He adds another, stretches you around his thick digits, breath hot against your core when he mutters a suggestive, "not too much, anyway."

It's sinful the way his lips wrap around your clit, the squelching of his tongue and fingers working you over would have you blushing had you not been seeing stars, white hot pleasure coursing through you when he finds that spot that turns those stars to gunpowder. And he sets you alights, doesn't stop even when your thighs clench around his ears, fingernails leaving red hot streaks across his shoulders.

Tears have gathered in the corners of your eyes, threatening to fall - but not quite - when he finally pulls away, snakes his way up your body and grips your chin between his thumb and forefinger. He examines you, runs the flat of his palms across your dry cheeks. "Tough little thing are you?"

He shoots a glance at Kakazu, still lounging in the armchair, arms crossed like he couldn't care less, but you catch the way his eyes have darkened, the shadow of a bulge straining against his pants, the way he tap, tap, taps a painted fingertip against the straining muscles of his bicep.

Almost like he's waiting.

"Come on, sweet," Hidan drawls, flipping you over like you weigh nothing at all. "Cry for me, will ya?"

"What do you - mmph!" He's not gentle about the way he shoves your face into the cushion, shoves himself against the swell of your ass, dry humping you through his sweats.

"So pretty, and sweet," he groans against your ear, freeing himself from the confines of his sweats, pumping himself one, twice, three times before burying his cock inside you. "That's it, so soft."

You lurch forward, clawing at the covers, vying for sweet reprieve, but he wraps his big hand around your jaw, pulls you back until his teeth graze your throat. "Makes me wanna ruin you." You expect him to bite, surprised by the hot, desperate kisses he presses against your jaw, your throat, the curve of your shoulder. It's hypnotizing, erotic, romantic almost, but of course he's only testing you, tasting you, searching for the best place for the point of his canines, the bite of his teeth. There's a flash of crazed sanguine eyes, and he tastes your blood on his tongue.

He moans, lewd and desperate and loud, loud enough to drown out the sound of your own cries, loud enough to make you blush at the thought of people hearing it in the next room over. His grip on your jaw is bruising, you think it might just pop, eyes rolling back in your skull when his hips meet yours in rough tempo. You sink your nails in the tender flesh of his wrist, half sure you've drawn blood, hoping he'll ease up, if only a little.

It only seems to spur him on.

You crane your head as best you can beneath the crushing weight of Hidan's palm, flash a pleading glance at Kakazu, surely he wouldn't let him go too far, right? Hidan said so himself.

But his eyes are cold, vacant, an indifferent green that bores right through you like you mean nothing at all, like you're a bug not worthy of being crushed beneath his boot. It gives you butterflies.

"Don't give him that look, baby." Hidan squeezes your cheeks between his thumb and ring finger, angling your chin until he can force his mouth against yours. You can taste your blood on his tongue. "Said I wasn't gonna hurt ya, didn't I? See-" He rocks his hips against yours, faster, faster, until he finds a pace that has you reeling, keeling over when hits that spot that has you seeing stars. "You're fine."

Fine? Perhaps. Maybe if he hadn't leaned over you, hadn't snaked a big arm between your legs to find your sweet spot, rubbed it between thick, calloused fingers as if you weren't already on the cusp of tumbling head first into sweet oblivion. Had his thrusts not grown erratic, feral and bruising like a wild animal. But now? Now you're fucked. It feels good, too good, like you're at the peak of sugar rush but it goes higher, higher still until you're a shaking mess of limbs and and lust and stupor.

"Stop, Hidan fuck, stop!" Your whole body is trembling, hands weakly pushing at his wrist that's dead set on forcing you over the edge once more. "Stop, ha-aah!"

You crash again, clenching around his cock in waves that are so intense they're almost painful and before you know it, the world has become a blur of watercolors. There's a ringing in your ears but in the incessant buzzing is the distant, almost sinister cackle of Hidan's laughter. You don't have the time or the mind to be confused; a rough hand cups your chin and wrenches your head up to meet Kakazu's blazing stare.

"That's 500 ryo old man." His hips pound into yours with renewed fervor. "Fuck, Hah-" He throws his head back, fingers surely leaving bruises where they lay. "She's so pretty when she cries, isn't she Kakazu? Might have t-aah." He sucks in a breath, hips stuttering. "Might have to make her cry all the time, yeah?"

Your brain is short circuiting but still, his words ring in your ears, did they bet on you? The bastards. You're worth more than 500 ryo, surely.

Kakazu says nothing, arms crossed against his broad chest. He's calm, suspiciously so given the circumstances, lips set in a thin, firm line. Hidan pulls out with groan, pumping his release over your back in thick, hot ropes. His free hand pushes back the hair stuck to the sweat of his forehead. "What's wrong, old man? Was the show worth the money or something?"

Kakazu only chuckles, deep and low, vibrato shooting tingles down your spine and straight to your pussy. "You call that crying?" He stands, taking one step, then two, and you're quick to sit up, head reeling as you scramble backwards - but he's faster, hand snatching your chin, turning your head this way and that, thumbs digging your cheeks almost painfully. "-just because there's a tear or two?" His eyes piece straight through you, cold, calculated, like a snake about to strike. "C'mere, I'll show you crying."

You're all but dragged off the futon and forced to your knees in front of the armchair, rough fingers tangled in your hair. "Kakazu I can't, I-"

"Don't worry." His words certainly don't inspire confidence, free hand pushing down his pants until his cock springs free, slapping dramatically against his stomach. "Unlike Hidan, I'm not interested in making you cum."

Your mouth goes dry, his girth alone is nearly twice that of Hidan's, and that's to say nothing of the length and the bold, angry vein along the underside and - and -

"Open your mouth." It's certainly an order, not a suggestion - but you hesitate, still reeling from the shock. His fingers tighten, angling your head painfully until you whimper. "I don't like to repeat myself."

You part your lips, fear and excitement turning your stomach, and the very moment he deigns he can fit, he's forcing himself against your tongue, tip hitting the back of your throat in a single, selfish stroke. You gag, reeling back only an inch before Kakazu's pushing you back down, dark pubic hair tickling the tip of your nose. You can't breathe, fat tears stinging your eyes and rolling down your cheeks as your hands push desperately against his thighs.

"That's cheating, Kakazu!" The shrill of Hidan's voice is lost in your drumming ears.

"How can I be cheating-" you can almost hear the smirk in Kakazu's voice. "-when I haven't even started?"

[fairycosmos]

Oh boy, things are extremely rough atm. Can you recommend any healthy coping mechanisms? I literally don’t know a single one that works for me except for self destruction and being on my phone until I don’t feel anything anymore. And apparently that’s not what we’re supposed to do when we’re sad

ok so unfortunately all of my healthy coping mechanisms only half work for me and it's a total gamble whether or not they're going to on any given day. and none of them ever cure my mental illness which is annoying. like they're not fail-proof solutions and a lot of the time they're simply frustrating in fact it often feels laughable to even try them. a walk is not going to make any of this better. but consistency DOES strengthen your coping skills like a weak muscle. like even after 3 days of practicing them i'm like Ok well i feel like shit but i survived without hurting myself and that was the whole point. not a cure but a tool. ok i'm just going to list them because otherwise, i will ramble forever. btw it's ok to do like, even half of one of these per day. there's no need to overwhelm yourself at all :) coping is coping.

meditation - it sounds and feels like bullshit but i follow this youtube called great meditation and they upload 10 min guided meditation sessions and they have truly gotten me through a lot of low moments at this point. sometimes i feel much better after and sometimes i barely notice a difference but the point is i've sat and breathed for a bit

journaling - i thought i needed some sort of mental health diary for this but then i just opened a google doc and followed these mental health journal prompts ( just one every other day, nothing overwhelming, and no pressure to write a lot or to write anything in particular) and it helped me organise my thoughts and notice the patterns i was/am locking myself into. there's also trauma processing prompts online if that is what you're after.

free writing - again just opening a word doc but this time you just write without thinking literally letting go and putting down whatever words your fingers type - no judgement no curation no performance no expectations.

submerging my face in cold water, holding ice cubs - good for grounding.

crying my eyes out, purposefully listening to sad songs or watching sad movies in order to do so - cleansing, painful, tires you out and can make you feel renewed briefly.

breathwork - again there's some great youtube vids for this. i do this 20 min nervous system reset somewhat often, but there's shorter ones that are also very effective. box breathing also helps if you just need a simple go to - breathe in for 4, hold for 4, our for 4.

lie down on a hard surface or the floor with your back straight - another grounding thing. to occupy your mind during this you can name 5 things you can see, four things you can touch, three things you can hear, two things you can smell, and one you can taste.

pat your arms, legs, stomach, head, chest gently and breathe deeply - again it can be grounding.

watch trail cam vids of cute animals, use the wikipedia page generator to read up on smth you've never really thought about before, download duolingo and start learning a language. not to become fluent just to get your mind out of the place it's in, even for 5 minutes.

literally just move around especially outside - HATEEE to say it but stretching on your bedroom floor, going for a walk, following an exercise video etc - it can really help you feel a bit less stale and myopic. if it's too much, opening a window is a good start. or simply standing outside your house for 2 minutes and going back in. the air will feel good.

make sure all your bases are covered - have you eaten, have you slept, have you showered, have you talked to someone in the last few days, are you hydrated? if not, make a small move towards doing one of those things. feeling like crap physically only compounds how crap you feel mentally and so the cycle perpetuates.

scream, punch/throw pillows, snap pencils, stab at paper with pens.

affirmations - i'm trying to build a list of ones that resonate with me specifically because a lot of them don't LOL. but there's a lot of good resources online for this. one of my favorite current ones is: doing a little is better than doing nothing. a job half done is better than a job not done at all.

do something creative - it's not about being an artistic genius it's about doing something tangible with your hands and getting out of your head and using the space in your brain to focus on something that doesn't feel doomed. drawing, singing, cooking, playing an instrument, writing, whatever you want. you don't have to have done it before. you can just do it.

talk to someone you trust/care about, let them in even a tiny bit. it's ok to verbalise these things. give them a fair chance to be there for you the way you'd want to be there for them. i know it's hard, all of this is, but it's not impossible. also, look for any communal resources you can find - support groups, local therapists who may offer sliding scale prices that are affordable. it all sucks but it's something.

will add more when/if any come to mind. i'm sorry you're feeling like this and i sincerely hope it all becomes a bit lighter for you soon. sending so much love. x

[heliocentricsunflower]

In your arms

needed some levihan comfort hehe

Words: 886

_________

It was one of those days that Hange Zoë could just not take it. They had experience in not sleeping for days, sure, but this is different. Firstly, they never had to deal with public opinion, secondly, they weren't burnt out, and thirdly, their self confidence has taken a major hit. Truly, why were they Erwin's successor? They always knew they could never amount to the greatest, but they honestly just feel like the most incompetent commander.

At least they know not to run away from responsibility; their next—and best—choice for the succeeding commander is only twenty. No way they're letting someone that young deal with this. No matter how painful their headache right now is. No matter how blurry their vision is becoming despite having their glasses on; they have to keep pushing forward, even if they start losing their sanity.

It's cold, but putting their coat on would be a hassle, and fuck— they just want to tear down their office. But alas, a knock on the door. One they seem to be familiar with.

Levi, they assume.

"Come in," they instruct, fixing their posture.

Indeed. it's the Captain, and he's brought... tea?

"Thought you might need it. Tea and some company," he says with a sigh, and a desolate-as-ever espression, gently kicking the door closed and locking it.

"Shouldn't you sleep too? I know you're an insomniac, but you should still try," they slump onto their desk, laying on their arms.

"Exactly. I'm the insomniac here. You aren't. Sleep."

"Can't."

"Deal with it tomorrow."

"I can't."

"You can. Go to bed, Glasses."

"I fucking can't, Levi. If I keep delaying the shit I have to do—which I've been doing a fucking lot lately—they're gonna keep piling and piling and, I don't know if you've noticed, but the entire fucking world wants to fucking kill every person in this island, and I can't think of a fucking solution, and our best option is to fucking euthanize ourselves. I—I can't—I can't fucking—"

With every syllable, their heart beats faster; with every word, their hearing gets hazier; with every sentence, breathing gets a little harder.

Levi knows Hange. He knows when they're about to break. And so, he knows how to calm them down.

So he walks towards them. He places the tea on their desk, takes off his coat, places it around them, before finally hugging them and resting his cheek on their shoulder.

That's when he felt tears on Hange's face.

"I'm—I'm so sorry..." they whisper.

"I know you're tired too—I'm sorry... for lashing out like that," they manage to hiccup between labored breaths.

"Don't... apologize. You're going through a lot. I know. "

Hange can feel it. The sting in their eyes. Levi too.

"You... don't have to..."

"You want me to."

"Still—"

"I want to stay."

"But—"

"Like how you stayed with me."

They know what he's talking about.

Oh, how he longs for those lost nights.

Those times were, still hard of course, but much simpler. He misses when Hange would still laugh and joke about dire situations to lighten things up. He misses when they would knock at his door at nights after every comrades' deaths to check up on him. When they would comfort him; when they kept him safe in their arms; when the two of them would talk until the sun rose; when they simply kept each other company through the night; when they fell asleep on the floor and he carried them to sleep on his bed.

He never expected to think this, but he wishes for the time when titans were just that: titans.

The Commander turns sideways on their chair and leans on Levi's body. They're gripping on the sleeve of his polo; he takes the opportunity to lead them to sit on the floor.

They never make a sound when they cry. Or at least, they try not to. This time, they're too tired to do anything but let their tears fall.

"Wanna drink?" Levi brings attention to the cup. They nod slowly.

The warmth of the tea against their lips provides familiar comfort. Levi really does make good tea, they think, but they can't seem to recall if they've tasted this before.

"Chamomile. The one we tried when we went to Marley."

"It's good..."

"Is that so?"

The Commander lowers the cup and exhales.

"You gonna do anything next morning?" they ask him, gently grabbing one of his hands.

"Nothing too important."

They turn to look at his eyes, as if asking him to stay.

"I'll be right here," he places an arm around them.

They feel a tug in their heart and burries their face in his shoulder. They wonder if he feels the smile on their face as they drift swiftly to sleep.

Levi gains a sense of relief and carries the sleeping Hange to his quarters. Carefully, he places them on his bed and removes their glasses and eyepatch. He takes a moment to look at them.

Despite their restful state, stress is still evident on Hange's face; Levi slowly lies next to them and gives a tender kiss on their forehead. Their face seems to have relaxed. He tucks away the hair bothering their cheeks.

"Goodnight, Hange." he lays next to them.

And for tonight, they're safe in his arms.

[diejager]

Lil' Mouse

The Ghostface

Cw: blood, gore, murder, attempted murder, survivor, killer, NSFW, torture, implication of smut, Ghostface being a sick fuck- he's Ghostface.

Note: not proofread

Wc: 1k

Few things made his blood pump, adrenaline running through his veins with hunger; deep, unscathed hunger - a primal need. One of those were the chases. He loved the feeling of a chase, the pure adrenaline that it gave him, he lived for the hunt and the stalking. Watching his victim slowly fall into madness, paranoia at being watched, thinking that they're being watched without knowing who or where, the fear in their eyes and the jitters in their body; but what he loved more than the stalking was the sound of his knife stabbing through a person's flesh, the squelch of blood and the warm feel of it under his cool, leather gloves. The cold silver turned into a crimson shimmer after one stab, a drug that drove his system wild, it gave him a kick to see blood pool from the wound and cover the ground his victim lay.

If they screamed- Oh, if they screamed and trashed, it would only spur him on, making the game of cat and mouse truly alive. The gurgles and gasps he would receive, his ears tuned to the songs of harrowing pain that slowly died down as his victim bled to death. The liquid life draining the warmth and colour of their skin, glazed over eyes and red-painted lips. Another picture for the memorabilia - his twisted sense of remembrance for his past victims added to the papers he wrote about himself.

He killed for self-enjoyment, to feel the thrill and energy it brought to him - perhaps that's why it didn't bother him when she took him, to the Entity's world.

She fed off hope and despair, words he was familiar with, he also got a kick out of seeing people cry and despair. It was a good deal in his eyes, he could stalk, hunt and kill without the nagging presence of authoritative figures or always needing to move from state to state; it saved him time and money, though it lacked the power he had over the city he preyed upon and failed to fuel his need for media popularity.

The same faces, the same methods, the same voices, but the various ways he stabbed them, choked them, and left them for dead was exhilarating. It might've been better than before, he could let them scream as loud as he wanted. Some, he hated - a mutual hatred between him and a few survivors - others, he could care less as long as he was entertained - they feared him for good reasons, he was a knife-wielding psycho charging at them. None were his favorites, he didn't have one, couldn't find an interesting enough individual to constantly keep his attention on- but then you popped up.

A doe-eyed survivor with scars lining the cuffs of your collar, silver lines hidden tightly under that loose polo of yours; none being a result of your actions, surely. Cautious frown and knitted brows in and out of trials, softening when pointed towards another survivor and hardening to a resolute glare when caught by one of his. How utterly adorable. You watched from afar, never daring to approach him, even when he beckoned you over with a teasing wave, eyes narrowed and back hunched as you backpedaled from him. You hightailed away the first time you met, quick on your feet and smart too - he liked that. Although you were a bit quiet, mouse-like in some ways as some survivors would be after living in the Entity's realm for a while; scurrying away before anything bad happened; fidgeting with your hands; looking back at every noise. Adorably so, you became his new obsession.

On the second trial, he cornered you, stalked you, trapped you, and hunted you like a prowling cat hunting a sqeaky mouse. You froze up, hands trembling and legs rigid with terror, the dark circles under your eyes made your wide eyes so much prettier when he caught the glint of his knife in them. Each step of his doubled yours, backing you into a wall, helpless and at his mercy.

"I'm gonna carve you another one, yeah?"

True to his words, you found yourself straddled on the cold and damp floor, hands flying towards his masked face, his hands, his shoulders - anywhere you could that would potentially stop him - to deter him from carving you another one. A deep, saccharine chuckle, muffled by his mask, reached your ears as his knife plunged into your flesh, tracing the lines that your prior attacker left. What he could finish before, Ghostface could, drawing new lines over the old ones, painting pinkish silver in red and unscarred flesh with red.

"You look hot, babe," he cooed, sounding so far away from the blood loss.

The ringing in your head and numbing body told you all you needed - made you reminisce of the time you were attacked and left for dead in that alley, forgotten - except for the hard poke on your thigh that told you another thing: he was a sick fucker. The bastard had popped a boner while stabbing you.

He found new ways of doing you in, on the third meeting he hooked you - for once - on the fourth, your throat was slit; on the fifth, stabbed once in the abdomen and cuddled as you bled to death; on the sixth, a quick and merciful hit to the heart after he cracked your ribs; seventh-

You hated him, where he found pleasure, you found pain - much expected from a killer toward a survivor. Yet, with every kill, he helped, The Ghostface helped you slowly move on, over your near-death experience, of having everyone leave you after they thought you kicked the bucket, numbing the pain. You were always worried about or congratulated after a match with him, and he, true to his words, always came back to you for more.

"My adorable lil' mouse," he said, fingers crinkling around the handle of his knife as he peered over the wall.

Degrading, yes, but it held a bit of affection.

You either got away scot-free or died with him, not limping to the gate with The Shape or dizzy and brain-scrambled by The Doctor. They were all sick bastards, but Ghostface was one of the... nicer toward you.

"Hmm?" he cooed, head tilting almost comically with his mask. "You want to know what to call me other than Ghostface?"

"Danny, babe, Danny Johnson. You better remember it cuz you'll be screaming that name tonight."

[ready-for-take-off]

Hello!! Do you happen to have any sick headcanons for ZB1? Only the members you’re more familiar with if that’s easier do you <3

So guess what... you're actually in luck because I recently started stanning ZB1 so I'm now familiar with all of them haha! Here is some of the stuff I have in my notes, and I tried to add caretaker hcs for each as well-

(Sorry to anyone who is waiting for the other requests I took, I just figured I'd answer ZB1-related-stuff first just because they're at the forefront of my mind currently. On that note, please don't hesitate to submit any ZB1 fic requests as well!)

Hanbin

-Gets the short end of the stick with pretty much every sickness there is -Sometimes has uncharacteristic emotional breakdowns when sick -I just know he has a collection of comfort objects -Probably gets stomach aches from stress -Has a wide variety of facial expressions and vocalizations whether he's the sickie or caretaker -Cute and fluffy as a caretaker, does everything he can to ensure members' health (including checking on them obsessively)

Jiwoong

-Gets awkward and just spaces out when sick -Would never allow himself to cry from pain but might tear up -Feels a sense of duty towards the members, almost like a dad -Snaps immediately into caring mode whenever he sees someone not feeling well, but respects their boundaries -Like I can see him just patting someone's back quietly while they cry

Zhang Hao -Chronic complainer- being sick annoys him more than anything -Low pain tolerance and tears up from anything -When something hurts his face will look like he's crying out in pain but he doesn't make a sound or makes a choked noise at best (very specific but I do see him make this kind of expression a lot) -Looks pathetic and tiny when throwing up -The members like to touch his tummy a lot because it's soft (as Gyuvin once said) -Which is a good thing because I can see him getting stomach aches often (attracting caretakers) -Preaches the importance of health to other people when they're sick -Insistent and blunt as a caretaker

Matthew

-Doesn't get sick too often, but when he does his whole routine gets thrown off (also with injuries) -It's weird when he's super sick because the room gets a lot quieter even if he truly does want to talk -Actively tries to calm down and do positive self-talk when panicking or nauseous (probably knows some breathing exercises) -Very open with issues, doesn't try to hide it -Can see him curling up in Jiwoong's arms whenever he gets a stomach ache -Can sometimes drop the most fire health advice -As a caretaker, he wants nothing more than for the sickie to feel better so he'd say cheesy cute things -(not necessarily a sick hc but) Tries to be a mediator whenever members disagree

Taerae

-To be honest, I don't have the tightest grasp on his personality :') -But I know he would be very cute when sick and his normally logical personality would go down -He'd just go into hiding until he feels better -Would just offer physical touch as a caretaker

Ricky

-Worries a lot about his image while sick (hates being vulnerable) -Probably won't see him sick often because he keeps to himself -Doesn't like to ask for help, brushes any concerned comments off -Would try to sleep it off -Gets an angry face when he doesn't feel well -Tends to overanalyze situations -(this is just me projecting but) I hc him as a hypochondriac and slight emetophobe (mainly out of fear of contagion) -Probably the most perceptive member- good listener and always knows what someone needs -Would not hesitate to take care of someone out of chivalry

Gyuvin

-If the sickness isn't too severe, he won't really notice or let it interfere with anything (usually the case) -Gets upset if sickness ruins group plans (there's evidence for this: when he missed a showcase he typed a page-long apology after it) -Throwing up always drains him of energy -Self-critical, feels guilty for wasting others' time -Loves to baby his members -Probably the most physically affectionate member (randomly hugs and touches) -Rubs his members' tummies (also evidence for this)

Gunwook

-He's said himself that he cries a lot -Hates to be alone when sick -Makes a cute pouty face to attract caretakers -Would absolutely love to have his tummy rubbed -Would pretend to be surprised if someone took good care of him but deep down he's not -As a caretaker, he'd be more likely to keep the sickie company than actually help them

Yujin

-Shy, doesn't want to be touched -When he gets sick it usually comes on super fast (no one will notice until he finally loses it) -I feel like he would get dizzy easily -Doesn't like throwing up because of other people's reactions (doesn't want to be seen as vulnerable) -Panics often for no reason, which makes him go dead quiet -Would secretly enjoy being the caretaker because it makes him feel mature I feel like with ZB1, theres a clear division in members who fit the sickie role vs the caretaker role just because they all have such prominent personalities. I'd say the sickies are Hao, Taerae, Gunwook, and Yujin, while the caretakers are Hanbin, Jiwoong, Matthew, Ricky, and Gyuvin. Let me know what you guys think about this! <3

[trulytiredhermit]

Among us reader AU.

Alright, let me explain.

The reader is a crewmate and in the spaceship there were only three of them left, one of them is an imposter and the reader and another crewmate was able to figure out who the imposter was, however, the imposter fought back, effectively sabotaging the entire ship before the ship fell, and while the imposter was kicked out, the two crewmates were panicking, the ship landed on a place, however, it wasn't their own world.

The chain found those two crewmates, but only one of them survived the crash, it was the reader, they still had their suit and helmet on and they just got one major injury, nothing that will immediately kill them, unless left out for long, the other crewmate.. it wasn't a sight to behold.

Lots of large wounds, the Cafeteria area was littered with both of their blood, the entire spaceship was covered in dry blood, with cafeteria being the one with the most amount of blood, not to mention the freshest.

Does the chain help them? Yes!

Are they curious as to what happened to the ship and what happened inside the ship? Ofcourse!

Do they not know what that spaceship is because they haven't seen it before? obviously!

Do the chain eventually become yanderes and think that they are the only ones who could protect the reader because they found them in such a state? ...yeah

Are they going to let them go?.. Fuck no!

*Okay so quick warning for others then, this is post is going to have blood and mentions of injuries in it! Nothing too graphic however, but thought I'd give a warning just in case!

Now, this is a very interesting concept! Color me intrigued*

First off, just going to say right off the bat, Time might be a little wary of Among Us Reader.

In short, he's gonna think Reader is an alien (and Reader technically is in this situation as they've crashed on a planet not their own), and we all know about the various interactions Time has had with aliens.

Of course, seeing Reader wounded pushes down his paranoia and his heroic side takes over. Can't just leave a most likely innocent person to die after all.

Seeing the crashed ship and all the wreckage the Chain would no doubt be in disbelief.

Especially after discovering the carnage inside.

After coming across the corpses in the medbay (I personally like to believe that while the game doesn't show it the crewmates cover the bodies respectfully in the medbay) and realizing that that blood was older and less fresh than the blood coming out of the cafeteria the Chain immediately bolt into the big room.

There they think all hope has been lost. It looks to them like there were no survivors.

Until a loud cry of pain sounds out from under a flipped over table and some rubble.

Hurrying over, Hyrule is the first to find the prone and strange outline of a trapped figure.

He doesn't know if they're wearing an outfit of some sort or if that's what they truly look like, but at the current moment he can't help to care.

After calling the rest of the group over to have them help move the rubble and table, the Chain comes to a startling realization whilst looking at the strange figure.

The head piece of their armor, and they assume it must be armor now, has cracked and pieces have broken off revealing the figure behind the mask.

This was an actual person, one who did not look so alien after all.

One who is currently bleeding out from a wound in their side and has a trail of blood running down their face.

Removing the broken helmet entirely the Chain is met with a human looking face, one with rounded ears and stunning features. If it weren't for the current circumstances some would even have blushed at the sight.

Warriors, who was off looking for more survivors, came back to the rest of the Chain with the grim news of the less fortunate figure who had not survived the crash.

But he grows the smallest bit happier when he sees that there was a survivor, even if it was only one out of the whole ship.

Acting fast Hyrule works to stabilize Reader's wounds, using his magic and having the others bring out their health potions.

Eventually Reader's wounds are all but smaller ones now. And while they may be a pain in the coming days, they'd survive.

Not wanting to stay in the haunting carnage of the ship anymore, the Chain carefully transport Reader to a nearby inn.

Days pass and Reader finally awakens.

However, they don't awaken quite so peacefully.

Instead as Reader bolts up in bed and falls off of it in their stumble to get up they jump scares the Chain, who had fallen asleep that day in the room with Reader waiting for them to wake up.

It takes a lot of calming down and gentle words, outstrechted hands showing open palms to show that they meant no harm, before Reader agrees to hear the Chain out and take a seat back on the bed.

Now things start getting explained.

The Chain tells Reader of how they saw their strange ship crashland and, being worried and curious about what happened, they tell Reader about how the searched the site and eventually stumbled across them.

They don't need to say how everyone else on the ship had died, from Reader's saddened and forlorn look on their face they can tell they already know.

After the Chain explains their side of things, they wait patiently for Reader to hopefully do the same. Give them something that could explain what happened and who they are.

And Reader eventually does, caving in to the fact that they're all alone right now but these strangers are being so kind to them. Something they've sorely missed while being on the ship that had been run rampant with ruin and suspicion of everyone and everything.

Reader explains exactly what happened on the ship. How their crewmates were picked off one by one by a monstrous being that had assumed the form of one of their friends (another small head cannon of mine since it'd be obvious who the imposter was if they assumed a random form of a person that hadn't been there before).

The Chain feels a great sense of pity and horror as Reader explains how everyone was under suspicion, even themselves, as crewmates were picked off and as their oxygen and power supplies were targeted and sabotaged relentlessly by the imposter.

The Chain feel a sense of awe, and strangely pride, as Reader tells the Chain how they along with their fellow crewmate were able to discern who the imposter was and boot them from the ship.

However, that sense of awe and pride turns into a sense of horror as Reader tearfully remarks how it had been too late. The imposter had sabotaged the flight pattern/engine.

Reader and their friend had been unable to fix the sabotaged equipment and so they knew they were going to crash and most likely die. They had accepted their fates and had gathered in the cafeteria one last time.

Reader's harrowing tale and tear speckled lashes make a strong urge rise up within the Chain.

They too have had their dangerous adventures, gone through harrowing hardships and the like. But this was something entirely new.

They felt terrible that Reader had to go through such a thing and they made a mental promise that Reader would never have to go through such an ordeal again.

This event is what sparks the need to protect and their love for Reader.

And it is the days and weeks after, where the Chain helps Reader deal with their survivor's guilt and where they spend time with Reader, that they start to fall even deeper.

You could say it was a matter of fate that Reader survived the crash landing.

To the Chain, this was simply

meant

to

be.

[iamlittlelostsoul]

Watching and waiting...

Hello everyone!!

Welcome to part 2 of "A joyous wedding..."!

If you haven't read part 1 link is below

and if you'd like to check more of my stuffs here's my masterlist!

Thank youuu @whatevermywpis for the idea!!! I hope you read this and enjoy itt >o<

Enjoy everyonee!!

---x---x---x---x---x---x---x---x---x---x---x---x---x---x---x---x---x---x---x

gn!reader x dorm leaders

Overview: How nice, how sweet! Were finally married!....Hey?.... Do smile! It's a happy occasion!...H-hey! Please stop crying....im sorry, I...I love you...

(don't mind me making poems knowing I terribly suck at it :'VV)

< previous (part 1)

Dance and sing whilst joyous music play,

as we are to be wed on such a bright and sunny day.

oh how glad am I my favorite flowers decorate thy special place.

how happy am I that people I love gather unfazed.

As I, the bride mat be long gone

they're celebrating as they mourn.

Amidst it all their spirit watches sorrowfully

As they're lover's sanity degrades woefully.

They miss their warmth, the sound of their voices and the sweetness of their touch, and their loving kisses.

from the day they mourned cried and screamed, to the day they all began to break, they saw it all.

Through a little hand mirror in an endless dark void...they saw everything crouching as they silently prayed to return to their side.

Are they even truly alive or is this the after-life.

If they are living...how is it that their soul is most likely far from their body and all they could do is watch as they see them all suffer.

Does their lover knows that there's a chance they could still be alive?

Hah, How lonesome...it was their wedding yet they couldn't 'fully' attend. Only a shell of what they left behind...

"How long am I supposed to live on here?" They thought out loud, the sound of their voice bouncing all the endless void.

they want to go back in their arms...and live their lives happily...yet here they are stuck in an unknown space...it could be hell or heaven...or it could be both or none

They're alone. Like a genie in a lamp, waiting for a miracle to be set out...but unlike a genie, they had no way out...well so far that's what they know? They don't really understand how they got here...and if they're really living or dead.

To be fair they knew they sorta died(?) one way or another...they're practically considered dead, it's just that at the same they felt very much alive just...sorta detached?

They watch their lovers go down down down into the pits of insanity as they marry and live with their corpses as if it truly alive....it's sickening and very much painful to watch....

-x-

Unconsciously their lovers sorta knew they were still sorta living. But people took this as madness and them going down to the pits of insanity.

Well yes, they are one way or another doing so by now...marrying a corpse, and still trying to go with their daily lives trying to find some way to revive them.

Using all types of spells, brewing all kinds of potions, and researching cases similar to theirs.

Their friends and families have been begging them to get rested whilst some recommends for them to give up.

Foolish, give up?? How could they!!

Their lover gave them their everything and did tons of shit just for them...so now that they're in a pitch obviously it's their turn to do anything and everything for 'them'.

Even if it means it would take years or centuries as long as they get them back breathing, laughing, talking, and running around like they used to.

They would do everything just to get them back...so open your eyes please

great sevens please give them power and strength to get them back...

if they're watching please just wait for us, love...you'll be with us anytime sooner.

Even if people starts seeing them crazy and mad...may their reputations be stained as long as they get you back.

None of them understood them better other than they...

No one knows they're still alive just waiting....so hold on for a little more ok?