#my eyes like that fucking driving section killed me

[delicatebluebirdruins]

anyways Lily Gao might be my favourite Ada voice

and it goes without saying everyone bullying her for not sounding sexy enough (seriously how) or what ever get the fuck away from me and her

[harlowcomehome]

CALYPSO:

Warning: Smut.

A/N: Inspired by Bryson Tiller’s new song Calypso. I never write smut on my own page(only collaborations with other writers) so I’m nervous about this one.

Everything written is a work of fiction (AKA: not real in any way, shape or form.) Fan fiction is purely for entertainment purposes and not intended to offend/misrepresent anyone or be disrespectful in any way.

Jack scanned the room, peeking behind the curtain as he hoped to see your familiar face in the crowd. He knew you two hadn’t been on speaking terms for over a month but if he knew you, he knew you’d still show up and show him what he was missing.

“Fifty bucks says she’s not coming” Neelam whispered to Urban as they both watched Jack nervously pace around backstage.

“She’s on the guest list. She’ll be here” Urban smirked, knowing the routine like clockwork, and shaking Neelam's hand. You and Jack would be at each other's throats, fall off and then fuck out your aggressions before acting like nothing had ever happened. You were the reason he even agreed to a residency in California, he hated Pacific time zones but for you, he’d do just about anything.

Jack was anxious, as the time to take the stage was growing closer. You however were waiting in the parking lot with your friend Bria, knowing just how to play it.

“He starts here in like five minutes” Bria checked her phone for the third time. She was trying to follow your lead, but the heels she chose for the night were already killing her.

“I know, that’s why we aren’t going in there for another twenty” you giggled, knowing that your lack of time management would drive him crazy. You had a habit of pushing his buttons, knowing it would only benefit you once he took you to his hotel tonight.

“I have an extra pair of heels in my trunk” You opened the trunk of your car as she eagerly hopped out of the passenger seat.

“You have extra everything in here” Bria giggled essentially finding your second wardrobe, as she changed into your shoes.

“Have to be prepared for anything” you smirked as you applied your lip gloss a final time, the sounds of Jack's second song ringing in your eardrums. “Ready?”

As soon as you entered the club you checked your silenced notifications from Jack, he had text you three times since he had gotten to California early this morning and he hated being ignored, clicking notify anyway with no shame.

His eyes were on the entrance of the club as he performed, eagerly still searching for you. A smile he was unable to hide spread across his face once he saw you enter the room. You got butterflies as soon as you heard his voice coming through the speakers, as much as you tried to deny it you were captivated by him and absolutely in love with him.

He wanted nothing more than to jump off that stage and make his way over to you, his desperation obvious as sweat rolled down the side of his face. He was only a few songs in and promised to do a 45-minute set.

You and Bria ordered espresso martinis and made your way to the VIP lounge that Jack had set up for you both. You kept your eyes on him as you took off your blazer jacket, showing him the navy blue sequined dress you had on.

Jack sang one of his lyrics incorrectly, only you had noticed though as the club was loud and roaring the lyrics back at him. You sat down as Neelam, Urban and some of Jack's other friends joined you.

“Where’d you get that?” Neelam hugged you as you babied your martini glass, tapping your fresh acrylics against it.

“The bar! Do you want me to order you one?” You smiled as you noticed there were only champagne bottles in your section.

“I got it, I’ll order some for everyone” Neelam smiled at you and Bria as Urban sat down beside you with a smile on his face.

“What’s that about?” You hummed between sips.

“I just earned fifty bucks” Urban leaned over to talk in your ear as the music was increasingly louder.

“She never thinks I’ll show” You shook your head, before asking Urban if he wanted to try your drink.

He took the glass from you and took a sip. “To be fair, you were later than usual this time.”

“He made me madder than usual this time” You stole the drink back playfully before he finished the last gulp of it.

When Jack was finished with his set he went backstage and showered, he wanted to make you wait but was worried he’d miss you if he did. So he rushed, throwing on an extra set of clothes and making his way to the section but not before stopping and making a special song request to the DJ that was on after him.

Bria and Urban sat together as you watched him take long strides toward you, you did hate the toxicity but loved the way he wore a look of annoyance. His jaw was always tight, the crease between his eyebrows prominent as he made his emotions evident to you.

“You’re late” he spoke to you through gritted teeth, before swiftly pulling you in for a front-facing hug. His chest always felt like home to you, but you didn’t want to give in so easily, pulling back instinctively.

“Nice to see you too” You rolled your eyes, turning to the couch to grab your blazer, a power move as he held his arm out to stop you.

“Please” he begged, not too proud to. “Please, stay.” The lights in the club hit his baby blues perfectly.

You eyed him up and down as you gave in, moving closer to him. You saw the emotions in his face, knowing you had a lot to apologize for even if he wasn’t completely innocent.

“I’m sorry” you spoke loud enough for him to hear over the music.

With perfect timing, your song started playing, and a giggle escaped you. “You did this?”

He shook his head, “No, must be a divine coincidence.” You knew he wasn’t being truthful, but appreciated the soft gesture.

“I’m sorry too” he leaned into you, the smell of his cologne enticing you. You looked up to locate the cameras but Jack didn’t hesitate, his lips latched to your neck as his hands explored your backside.

“Jack, there are a lot of people here” You tried to subtly push him off of you as his friends crowded the two of you, making a human shield. “The cameras are going to spot us” you moaned into his lips as he kissed you passionately, the kisses growing sloppier by the second.

“I don’t give a fuck, let’s give them a show” he rasped knowing that’s exactly what you were looking for to let loose. Your arms wrapped around his neck as his tongue slipped inside your mouth. The music was your guide as you danced together, your bodies grinding against one another’s.

Jack turned you around, your hips grinding against his lap, as he kissed your neck. The smell of your sweet perfume mixed with sweat was pushing him to the edge.

You knew the look on his face too well, finding yourself palming his hard-on, making his breath hitch against your lips as he mumbled into them.

“Let’s go” he pleaded, his blue pupils blown and desperate.

You nodded, taking his hand and following him as he guided you backstage to grab his car keys. “Hotels about ten minutes away” he swallowed hard as he shoved his keys into his pocket but you didn’t want to waste any time, locking the door behind you.

Jack heard the door lock, turning to you for verification. You wasted no time as you unzipped and unbuttoned his pants for him.

“Baby? Here?” His breath hitched, knowing he wasn’t going to last long at all.

“I can’t wait another minute” you whispered as you hiked up your dress.

“Take it off” he licked his lips, knowing you were so eager was making it hard to control himself and the kisses you teased up his thighs weren’t helping.

“Can you say please?” You knew he was at his limits his legs trembling already.

“Now” he rasped, impatiently helping you get undressed for him, he kissed you as his fingers made their way to your thong, pulling it off easily as you loudly moaned into his kisses.

“Louder princess” he commanded, loving the sounds you made.

It was then that a knock on the door interrupted you, causing you to freeze. “Jack” you whispered in a panic, lightly pushing his shoulder.

“Didn’t I say let’s give them a show?” He smirked sliding his fingers into you and kissing you sloppily knowing how vocal you’d become.

[onesidedradiostatic]

VOX'S TURTLENECK IS RED AND KNIT - a fully comprehensive post

STOP BEING IN DENIAL YOU FOOLS. the poll may be over, and red may have won, but some of you still don't understand so here's a consolidation of all my points, if you haven't noticed this discourse is VERY serious and important

----------------------------------

COLOUR

as I've brought up in that godforsaken poll, vox's turtleneck is red because it matches the colour of val's wings

as you can see, these are both taken from the section of the photo that's under the same shadow

if you want to argue that part of the turtleneck is not the same lighting as val's sleeve

you can see that comparing vox's turtleneck sleeve which is RIGHT ABOVE val's sleeve and therefore DEFINITELY the same lighting, it's still a similar colour. therefore, vox's turtleneck is definitely a similar colour to val's wings and since we know val's wings are red, vox's turtleneck must also be red.

okay but what if val was ALSO wearing orange?

possible! but also I'd put that as less likely since the wings are PART of his body and more likely didn't change colour

not to mention it matches up with vox's eyes which we also know are red, yes it's possible that vox ALSO had orange eyes because he is a screen but what are the odds that both vox and val for some reason originally had orange eyes and orange wings respectively then changed to red? it's more likely that they were always red and the photo is just washed out to make it look orange.

however, I do accept people who see all the red stuff as orange because at least you admit the colours match, also admire the dedication to doubling down on orange

THE LIGHTING ON VOX'S TURTLENECK! IT'S CLEARLY YELLOW!

yellow is easily debunked because there are actual yellow things present in the photo we can compare to! gonna be reiterating from a previous post

see the heart on val's belt? we KNOW that's yellow

now let's go back to our favourite picture

that's the boy! let's start comparing it

val's inner left sleeve matches up with the yellow heart! therefore it is also yellow, and unless val is wearing mismatched inner sleeves, this indicates his right inner sleeve is ALSO yellow

so all of these! they are yellow!

and we can see, said yellow does not match vox's turtleneck at all, not even when I pick out the lighting on it, it doesn't match the turtleneck in any of the lighting, therefore vox's turtleneck is most DEFINITELY not yellow.

it being red also matches up with vox's current colour palette being blues and reds and it makes sense that he had the same palette back then too.

if you believe vox's eyes and val's wings are both also orange, it could be orange. I can live with that. but it is most likely red.

----------------------------------

okay but what about the stripes?

THERE ARE NO FUCKING STRIPES Y'ALL DRIVE ME INSANE. MORE INSANE THAN YELLOW TRUTHERS.

THOSE VERTICAL LINES YOU SEE. those are BLACK LINES, which are the OUTLINE, REPRESENTING THE KNITTING PATTERN.

I SWEAR SOME OF YOU DO NOT KNOW HOW SWEATERS WORK.

but when I colour-pick it it's not black!

my fucking god PLEASE tell me you know how low quality black lines work. time to reiterate more points from my previous posts!

you understand that the outline around val should be black right?

but would you take a look at that, colour picking it makes it look like just a darker colour of the inner colour. why? BECAUSE IT'S A SMALL PICTURE THAT'S OVERALL IN LOW QUALITY, so the black gets thinned down to hell that you can't even see the black anymore. BUT IT'S STILL A BLACK OUTLINE. THE SAME LOGIC APPLIES TO VOX'S SWEATER

let's use a normal line as an example

here is a black line

here is that same black line resized down to a lower quality.

NOTICE HOW IT'S GREY NOW? are we going to insist it was never black now because it's sized down?? NO. IT'S JUST A LOWER QUALITY BLACK LINE THAT LOSES OPACITY AS IT'S SIZED DOWN. THIS IS THE LOGIC I GO BY.

okay but what if they were black vertical stripe--

YOU ARE KILLING ME NO IT IS NOT. IT'S A SWEATER IT MAKES MORE SENSE FOR IT TO BE A KNITTING PATTERN THAN VERTICAL STRIPES. but okay. at least you still see the same thing as me you just... interpret... it differently.

but I swear on god, the black lines represent the KNITTING PATTERN, it makes MUCH more sense for it to be that because it's a sweater.

arguments about orange or yellow going together better with vox's jacket are extremely irrelevant to this argument when 90% of red things in hazbin hotel would probably look better if they weren't red. I'm not arguing that it even looks better! I'm just arguing that it is what it is and you should ACKNOWLEDGE THE TRUTH.

AND THEREFORE. THE STUPID FUCKING TURTLENECK IS RED AND KNIT. I REST MY CASE.

[luxthestrange]

RoR Incorrect quotes#100! Like Mother-Like Daughter

You found out Zeus took Kojiro and is now trying to force Both Poseidon and Kojiro to Wed in Hope that his brother won't die...That obviously didn't sit well with you so as you tried to go and get Kojiro everything in the God Section was put into lockdown-You got lucky you were hanging out with Loki before the lockdown

F!Y/n*Looks at all doors and windows are reinforced and looks at Loki*Everything is locked down! How are we gonna get in?

Loki*Looking around and patting his pants when he pulled out a key with a keychain that had N.T in them and smirks at you grabbing your arm and running to get to the tesla room*

-As the two got into was seemed to be one of Nikola's new inventions Loki puts the keys and turns it on...but goes thru the radio to pick the perfect song going with "F*ck you up! Hits"-

Loki*Has hands on the wheel*Buckle up babe~WE'RE DOING A SHREK!~

-At the wedding-

Kojiro*Was putting on a wedding dress and being held to be in place along with Poseidon, mouth covered with tape*

Poseidon*Glaring at his brother knowing he can't disobey him*

CRAAAAAAASH

Loki*Opening the door of the vehicle abit dizzy*I OBJEEECT!?*falls into the rubble*

F!Y/n*Getting out of the vehicle and jumping on the hood towards the to look at the gods and glaring at Zeus*YOU WANT MY FUTURE HUSBAND...YOUR GONNA HAVE TO KILL ME!?!

Zeus*Rolls eyes and snaps his fingers for his soldiers to attack her at the ready*

You soon enough launch yourself toward Zeus' own soldiers...MASSACRETING THEM IN YOUR PATH OF WRATH...

Zeus*Frowning*WHAT THE FUCK-SHE IS DAME!*Moves out of the way from a soldier that falls near him now being choked by viscera, grabs him, and pushes him towards the angry human*SHE'S A BROAD!KILL HER-*Stops talking when the soldier was killed in an instant he pushed him her way*

Kojiro & Posiedon*Taken aback by You easily making your way thru Zeus's best god soldiers*...

Loki*Backs you up but is soon grabbed by you and is used like a bat to hit another god*

F!Y/n*As you drive around the vehicle destroying the cake, tables, and seats on your path you speed up to the altar with an enraged glare at Zeus but stop at the last min, get off punch the last soldier standing on your path, Glaring up at Zeus*...

Zeus*Looks down at you as you grab Kojiro and throw him over your shoulder like a sack of potatoes, and rolls his eyes and huffs*...

F!Y/n*Looking at the gods, pointing at Kojiro's ass and then at self*THIS ASS IS MINE!?!*Slaps Kojiro's ass to emphasize that*

Koji*Eyes widen and blushes*...

Loki: HAHA!*Laughs at the Greeks, He too is now carried like Kojiro by you*

Poseidon*Gaze on you as you leave and smirks, Interested in your display*Well then...

...You take after Mama Eve...ALSO, WE DID IT, FOLKS!100 ROR QUOTES!?!WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!

[call-sign-shark]

Heaven in Your Eyes || Arthur Shelby x Reader!OC

Summary:  Danger lurks in every corner of Small Heath now, a place in which you're forced to stay. A place where Changretta and Section D are ready to get you. As you're trying to work things out with Arthur following your violent argument, Polly tells you something that will definitely complicate your role in the Vendetta.

Words: 6.8k

TW: Angst, mention of drug use, canonical violence, mention of murder, mention of self-harm, co-dependent relationship, grieving.

Notes:

✞ This is chapter 13 of the Arthur Shelby x You series Heaven in Your Eyes. Each chapter can be read as stand-alone but reading the whole series will make the experience far more intense and better.

✞ Quite a long chapter I admit, certainly the longer. The future chapters won't be as long I swear -- it's just that there was a lot of small "plot twists".

✞ Lucy is @emotionalcadaver's OC.

PREVIOUS || Masterlist || NEXT

The thick fog of the night danced in front of the car’s headlights, swirling at the wind’s discretion. The driver, keeping an eagle eye on your dainty silhouette, had started the engine as soon as he saw you storming out of your house, disheveled and crying.  He only waited five seconds before driving at a very slow pace, scanning the misty streets of foul-smelling Small Heath to find you. For a short while, he was convinced you had managed to escape from his watch and, admittedly, the persistent fog only complicated the task further. “Fucking bitch”, he pestered, turning left on the next street as the car’s wheels squealed against the wet concrete of the road but you didn’t hear, far too deafened by the unremitting drumming of your own heart. You stopped your race near a field, and sat on a small wall, feeling your body wear out now that the adrenaline's effects were dispersing. Once settled, you buried your face in your cold palms and squeezed your eyes shut. Where should you go? What should you do? Were all of Arthur's promises empty? What will happen to your marriage now? Will Tommy keep ruining your life? All these questions played on repeat in your skull, like the unsettling loop of a broken record echoing in a murky abandoned house. And along the haunting tune resonated your and Arthur's voice, from a not-so-far memory.

"I'll marry you one day."

"You're already married, Arthur."

"I don't bloody care, it's you I want ay. Fook Linda, fook the family, fook the rest of the world. It's you. It has always been you."

A shiver ran down your spine as your mind went back to the night you had this conversation. You could almost feel the warm sensation of his naked skin against yours, as he cradled you to his chest, legs entangled, and his cologne all over your bedsheet. The first time you made love.

"Listen, I know you're scared and I know I’ve got a bad reputation. But if you give me the chance to be your man, I swear to God you'll be the only one for me. Look at ya. How could I want another woman? They can all die. I'll never, fucking never, cheat on you."

"But with Linda--"

"It ain't the same. We're talking about you. My sweet angel. My soul mate. My saving grace. The other part of me broken self."

"... Alright. Promise it then."

"Cross me heart and hope to die."

"No drugs either? Like, a bit of snow occasionally never killed anyone but apart from this, no relapse okay?"

"No drugs but..." He paused, gently taking your hand in his, and kissed all your fingers one by one "But in exchange I want ye to stop hurting yourself. I saw the inside of your thighs so please, no more cuts ay?"

"Cross my heart and hope to die." You smiled, interlocking your little fingers together in a sweet pinky promise.

You pressed one trembling hand against your mouth at the bittersweet memory, tears tingling your eyes and blurring your vision. A muffled sob escaped from your plumped lips, then a second, and finally tears came in waterfalls. It's been a long time since you really cried, and here you were. Weeping like a lost kid.

Despite the darkness of the night and the patchy coat of the fog, the stalker caught sight of the long crimson streaks that ran down one of your frail arms. He moistened his lips with the tip of his tongue as his hand reached for the gun hidden in the glove box. Finally, he thought, he was a short moment away from a very sweet vengeance he had spent years carefully planning. A little excited sigh escaped from his mouth while his fingers caressed the cold barrel of the gun, already aroused at the idea of pointing the canon against your head the moment he would force you to get in his car. Even if he knew that the wisest thing to do after your capture was to drive you to them, he thought about going on a little stroll with you. Maybe he'll bring you to an isolated land to shove you on the muddy ground, and make you regret the day you decided to murder his brother in the small mountainous town of Haute-Falaise. Only after he had ruined you enough, stealing every ounce of your dignity, he would drive you to Section D's headquarters. With a bit of luck, he could keep hurting you a little bit more before they decide to pull the trigger and repaint the walls with the contents of your brain.

The roots of his hatred had started the day he realized that each time he closed his lids, his brother's eyes haunted him. Or at least, the two hollow and dark holes on his face since his eyes had been gouged out. There was also the blood, running from his mouth, ears, nose, and even streaming down his cheeks in crimson tears. Maybe he should have listened to the local police when they told him not to look at the corpse, but he had to do it. To his questions, even the forensic pathologist couldn’t answer. The only certainty the experts agreed on was that Christian’s lungs and heart had been smashed to a pulp from the inside and that he had stab wounds all over his body just like the other four corpses found. Five corpses and nothing else. The murderer was nowhere to be seen: no one had witnessed something, not even heard the slightest muffled scream. It was as if Death came, struck them with his scythe, and left without a trace.

Closer. A little bit closer...

You jumped at the sudden and unexpected sensation of a man’s hand squeezing your frail shoulder. As nimble as a cat and as quick as a lightning bolt, you jumped from the wall and unsheathed the dagger you kept hidden in your right lace garter, “Who the fuck are you?!” You hissed, voice burning with fury and frozen eyes darting at the stranger. You had been so quick to react that the man, vaguely confused by what just happened, found himself in quite a poor situation. Indeed, he didn’t expect a young woman to press the tip of a sharp blade against his carotid artery, ready to slit it.  God knew he was a fearless fighter, but you had been too unpredictable, even for him. And yet, he didn’t move nor particularly react despite the unpleasant surprise.

“Heaven Shelby?” He asked.

You snarled and bared your teeth at this unfamiliar voice calling you by your name. If marrying Arthur Shelby had taught you what real love was, you had also learned how to become even more deadly than you already were. Seemed like the Shelby's wariness had turned you feral.

“Make one more step and I’ll bleed you like a fucking pig.” You warned. The cold wind of the night blew in your hair, making your long white locks dance behind you like the ghostly veil of a dead bride. He frowned, unsettled by its uncommon color. What disturbed him the most though was maybe the pale and haunting color of your eyes, whose shade reminded him of two cursed aquamarine stones.

“Mrs. Shelby. I mean no harm, ‘specially not when facing such a young and delicate lady,” He started, the corner of his lips stretching in a fathomless smile despite the awe you inspired him. His small and cunning fox-like eyes squinted as he grinned. Somehow, he didn't seem to mind the blade that was still threatening him as if such a situation was casual -- and it was. If anything, he was impressed by your fierceness and the hatred that shone in your iris, which created a striking contrast with your little frame and doll face, “Well not as delicate as I’ve been told.” His smile widened at his own comment, “It’s dangerous out’here m’lady, I’ve spotted you by chance and thought I’d bring you home safe.”

“Dangerous.” You snorted, unable to hold your sarcasm. “Get the fuck away from me.” Each word from your mouth was dripping with caustic vitriol, leaving no doubt about your hostility and lethal potential. Judging by your quick and deadly reaction, you were certainly more than capable of taking care of yourself -- in truth, he could tell you wouldn't hesitate to end his life. But instead of backing up, the man carefully brought his fingertips on the shining surface of the dagger and pried it away from his throat in a slow movement without breaking eye contact with you.

“A car is following you.” He informed you.

“What?” This phrase hit you like a train, impairing the fierceness and self-confidence you’ve been showing. Surveying your surroundings quickly, you did notice the shadow of a car not so far away in the distance with its headlights shut and two glistening eyes staring at you from the driver's seat. The moment the shadow understood that you had spotted him, the car headed away from you in a loud engine roar and disappeared in the misty night. Fuck, the lad was right: someone had been following you. You sniffed, still in shock, and quickly wiped your tears with the brush of one knuckle before tricking your anxiety into focusing on your unexpected savior again. Your armed hand might be hanging loosely from your slim body, but your fingers were still firmly wrapped around the dagger’s handle. It was an expensive and deadly blade, gifted by one mysterious red-head woman whose hair reminded you of a wildfire. You had trouble remembering the name — Lucy? Something like this. What you knew though was that this troubled soul was called ‘Tommy’s little spy” by the Shelby's family, but since you couldn’t care less about your brother-in-law’s personal life you didn’t investigate further. The girl had been nice with you, that was all that mattered.

Even armed and feral, you felt vulnerable. At your big confused eyes and at the sight of mascara running down your cheeks, the man couldn’t help but feel sorry for you. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that you could pass off for his daughter or maybe because you were just a few years older than his own son? He slightly tilted his body to one side to let the weak beam of a street light disclose his face and overall appearance: long and messy gray hair, thin lips, small glistening eyes, and a mysterious and slightly disturbing grin.

“Mrs. Shelby, you should come with me.” He advised, then he extended his arm, about to lay his strong hand on your shoulder a second time when you stepped back to avoid his touch with a dissuasive hiss. He stopped, “Lemme bring you back to your husband. It’s Arthur Shelby, ‘m I right?” This time, he simply offered you his palm and waited for you to make the first step. You replied to his invitation by looking dagger at him: if your eyes could kill, this one would already be sleeping with the fishes.

“No.” You protested, as stubborn as a Shelby by birth. Your heart squeezed in your chest at the mention of Arthur, the thought of him coming back home all coked up and intoxicated was still fueling your rage like gasoline thrown at a destructive fire. The last thing you wanted at the moment was to see your husband. If someone had asked you, you’d have answer that what you sincerely wanted was John and his comforting arms. John and his beaming smile. John and his way of teasing you, his jokes, his softness, his cockiness... Yes, that was John you wanted, and you wanted him now. But the cruel truth was that John wasn’t there anymore. He was lying dead and cold in a morgue, leaving you with nothing but the insufferable pain of his loss and your head screaming. “I don’t want to see him.” You asserted and fled the man’s gaze, who soon understood the situation — with age came experience, and from experience he could recognize the aching expression of a young woman wounded by the hazards of love. These Shelby men… He thought with a certain disdain. Oh, he had not been irreproachable all his life either, but a woman’s heart was a gift he missed every day of his life since his wife’s death. The mysterious lad softly reached for your wrist and, not minding your feral nature anymore, he brought it closer to his face to examine the open gash on your porcelain skin.

“Did he hurt you?”

“I did this to myself.” You broke the physical contact right away and pressed your palm firmly on the still-bleeding wound. Adrenaline had pumped so hard through your veins that the pain had been numbed: only now your nerves were slowly wakening up,  sending unpleasant tingles where the cut was. While he observed you carefully, the man wondered why such a young and fragile thing like you would do this to herself.

“Seems like you had a harsh night, kitten.” He stated with a slight fatherly tone which surprised you before he noticed the goosebumps on your skin. The situation had been so exceptional that he completely obliterated that you were barefoot outside, in the freezing temperature of Birmingham’s night, wearing nothing but a short dress. Without further ado, the man took his long black coat off and put it over your shoulders. While you still shot him a suspicious look, the warmth in which he wrapped you felt good. Your muscles relaxed and your hand closed on the two sides you brought together near your throat to protect it from the wind. “While I get why y’don’t wanna go home, ‘specially if you fought with your man, you have to understand that being alone at night in Small Heath is not safe. Let alone currently, with Changretta’s men trying to murder you all. Maybe you’d like me to bring you to Thomas instead?”

A shiver ran down your spine at the simple mention of your brother-in-law’s name. The sensation of his lips against yours was still burning your flesh and even hours after your last encounter you couldn’t get rid of his cologne’s scent that was still lingering on your hair and skin, “I’d rather get fucked by a horse than deal with this bastard.” The man blinked in surprise. He hadn’t expected you to have such a foul mouth -- that was why let out a soft chuckle, to which you replied with a very faint smile.

“Alright kitten… I get it. No Shelby men. And what about coming with me to my vardo? My son has lit a campfire and he is cooking some rabbits. Would you like that?” He suggested, one brow raised and his fox-like grin widening almost to his ears. 

“You still haven't told me who you are.”

The man took off his brown hat at your clever comment, “Ah yes. Where are my manners ay?” His dark blue eyes glistened with a cunning gleam as he slowly nodded “The name’s Aberama Gold. Nice to meet you.” 

“You bloody idiot… Sit here and don’t do anything stupid anymore.” Polly instructed her oldest nephew as soon as he had entered the room, pointing to an empty chair with her half-consumed cigarette. All alone with Ada and his aunt, who were still waiting for the other guests to come, Arthur took place and kept his head down. Polly simply took a long drag from her black cigarette and exhaled, smoke coming out of her mouth like the Devil as she quietly observed Arthur’s eyebags and bloody knuckles. Soon after your departure, she had heard the cacophony of screams and thuds coming from his house in Watery Lane. When she witnessed all the blood, destroyed furniture, and shards of glass in the living room, she had been was convinced that Arthur had murdered you out of jealousy or something. Fortunately enough, the situation wasn't that dramatic -- at least for her. After throwing herself at her nephew and forcing him to calm the fuck down, she did her best to keep the oldest Shelby brother from hurting himself more than he already did. When things got quieter, she had even scolded him as she did when he was a kid — except that all the other sermons he had been through in his childhood were nothing compared to the anger she had unleashed when he had confessed about taking drugs again.

“Is she coming to the meeting?” She finally inquired, one of her elbows resting on the wooden table and her cigarette consuming itself between her fingers.

“Don’t know Pol.” Arthur’s usual loud and gruff voice was reduced to a shy, hoarse, and saddened whisper. No matter his attempt at distracting his mind, his thoughts always came back to you. Only you. He didn’t know where you were nor if you’d come back to him and that was slowly driving him crazy. Or more than he already was. Arthur felt his fragile sanity slipping through his fingers and knew it wouldn't be long before he went berserk if it turned out you really left. Also, he was growing frustrated and agitated about sitting here in the betting shop, waiting for a useless meeting to start instead of looking for you. All he wanted was to burn this city to the ground and make it bleed until he found you and brought you back home where you belonged. That is to say by his side. Nevertheless, Polly had advised him against this decision, convinced it would only fuel your rage against him even more. She wasn’t wrong though, you needed space.

The fierce Aunt stubbed her cigarette out in the nearest ashtray and leaned toward her nephew to grab his wrist with one of her cold and sly hands. It snapped him out of his crumbling mind. “You’re insanely lucky to have a woman like her in your life, Arthur. Don’t be an ungrateful cunt by letting your addictions ruin the most precious thing you have. The bland and momentarily relief snow grants you will never hold a candle to Heaven. Understand?” She warned with the same tone she used when a young Arthur came back home all bloody after fighting at school. “Hey. Look at me.”  The gangster sniffed and raised his steel blue eyes to his Aunt, his lips trembling and dimples appearing on his cheeks as he clenched his jaws. How right she was. Even when snorting a ridiculously huge amount of snow he didn’t feel better. In fact, his high had been insipid when compared with how you made him feel, blissed out and in pure ecstasy, when his lips crashed against yours. An unpleasant surge of electricity crossed his body at this thought as he remembered how his whole being yearned for you. “She’ll come back. I know she will, and you’ll make up for your idiocy. But let me warn you, boy. Witches usually don’t believe in second chances. If she gives you one, don’t ever fuck it all up anymore, or she’ll tear your bloody heart from your chest and smash it in front of your beseeching eyes. And you’ll consider yourself lucky if she only did it figuratively. ” At these murderous words, which felt like another stab, Arthur bit the inside of his cheek until he could taste blood on his tongue.

“I’ll do that.” He concluded, closing his hands in fists in a vain attempt to keep his temper quiet despite his spiraling thoughts. Thoughts that revolve around either you and how he would end his damn life if you ever left him. With a loud bang, a strong rope, or hell, his own razor blade, he didn’t care. Polly simply nodded and sat straight again as the other members of the clan entered the room one by one and took place, waiting for Tommy. At each footstep, Arthur raised his head with impatience, wishing it was you and internally screaming when he realized it wasn’t. HeavenHeavenHeavenHeaven… It never stopped, the thought of you compulsive and maddening. He cleared his throat and grunted nervously, his gaze glaring at an invisible dot on the wall that was facing him.

Tommy erupted in the room, a placid expression etched on his face as always, giving the impression he was in complete control of the situation. Was he? No one was truly sure about that. He stood fearlessly in front of the small crowd, far from being impressed by public speeches, and let his turquoise eyes wander on every face. Sometimes you wondered if Thomas Shelby would better drop the criminal life and start a political career. After all, he had all the required qualities: manipulative, sweet-talking, dishonest, and heartless. Tommy took one look at his brother’s face and quickly got a broad understanding of what had happened -- It wasn't particularly difficult though considering how Arthur belonged to the expressive kind. His eyes usually talked before he even opened his mouth. Yet he couldn’t help but wonder if it was his fault. If it was because of the... kiss, or his moment of confusion as he liked to call it. Yet, his sharp instincts knew that Arthur hadn’t been informed of this little event otherwise he would have certainly gone straight for his throat no matter the family blood running in their veins. Loyalty had its limits, and the limits bore your name. When he noticed your absence, Tommy discreetly clenched his sharp jaws for even if he loathed you, you had your place among the family for the meeting and the rest of them would probably not vote if you weren’t there. Nevermind, he thought. He had barely parted his lips when he heard the clicking sound of heels approaching and with the sound came your perfume. Just like Arthur, he immediately recognized the spring-like fragrances of your scent, especially now that he had buried his nose in your silvery mane.

Arthur’s heart made a leap in his tight ribcage as he saw you bathed in the warm light of the betting shop, dressed like the day you left the house except for your hair that was styled in two French braids cascading down the small of your back. He wanted to get up and embrace you, choke you in a hug, or fall on his knees to beg for forgiveness without minding the other people in the room but Polly’s strong hand squeezed his thigh to prevent him from doing so. Thus, all he did was just staring at you with pitiful and beseeching eyes. But you didn’t look at him. In truth, you didn’t look at anyone. Ignoring the burning sensation of Tommy’s turquoise iris following you, you passed by him and headed right to the free chair between Polly and Arthur. As soon as you sat next to him, he obliterated the world in favor of your heavenly presence as he usually did when you were around. The lanky gangster tried his chance and his fingers shyly searched for yours under the table. He was dying to feel your touch again, the coldness of your frosty skin being the only remedy to his troubled soul and broken mind. However, you denied him your affection by slightly shifting your hand away from him no matter how hard it was for you too. Your rejection stung him more painfully than a white-hot blade. Arthur bit the inside of his cheek harder but instead of making a scene or bursting with both rage and frustration, he tried his best to be a good boy and simply lowered his head as an unruly child who had just been scolded. His lonely hand rested on his thigh he nervously rubbed, desperately trying to chase away his sadness.

“John is dead.” Tommy exhaled loudly and made a short pause as if he was still processing the awful truth. John. Is. Dead. Your frail fingers fidgeted the fabric of your dress at Tommy’s statement, doing so only to avoid digging them into your own flesh and scratching it until you bleed. For a micro while, Tommy's self-confidence flickered, afflicted by his baby brother’s savage murder, before he regained composure and his eyes darkened again, “Esme’s back on the road with the Lees. She’s taken the kids. Michael is badly wounded, they say it’s 60/40 in his favor.”

“There’s no number, there’s no percentages” Polly cut him off, “So the hand, the hand beneath him stops his falling. Spoke to someone… My son will live.” It was more or less all you’ve heard of the conversation, for your mind soon drifted. As Tommy kept talking, your frozen eyes as glacial as Dante’s latest ring of Hell locked on your husband. Observing him with great attention, you tried to look for anything that would prove he was high. But despite a huge deal of effort, you didn’t see any grain of white powder near his nostrils. Arthur’s eyes weren’t dilated, his hands didn’t shake and his breathing was as soft as quiet. If anything, he looked awfully tired and miserable. To be honest, you could not help but think about how bad you missed him and how handsome he was in his suit even if your mood was still sour and resentful.

Arthur grunted, distracting himself from the pain by following the conversation and playing his henchman role. He took a golden bullet out of the pocket of his trousers and, holding it between his thumb and his index finger, looking at its shiny surface on which he had carved Luca’s name: “Yeah, Well… The bullet’s been written… It says Luca.” He paused, a glimpse of John’s face reflecting on the gold for half a second. “When the time comes and it will come… Me as the oldest brother —“ He swallowed again, John had disappeared, “Will put this bullet into his fucking head.” He concluded his speech by putting the said bullet on the table, the metallic sound echoed in the room and chilled you to the bones. Your eyes were still focusing on Arthur, but this time it was because you felt worried for him. Despite his rough and tough demeanor, the slight tremor in his voice and his need to take short pauses had betrayed his profound sorrow. You closed your fists on your dress because of how much you hated to see him in pain. All you wanted was to hold his arm and support him in these difficult times but you were certainly as pretty as stubborn.

“There’s been some bad blood between us.” While he had ignored you for most of his speech, Tommy’s intense gaze fell on you. Feeling the ice of his eyes burning you, you cocked an eyebrow. Was it a pathetic attempt to apologize? Or was he blaming you for it?

Bad blood… Polly scoffed. You snort. That was the least he could say.

It felt like an eternity before little King Shelby spoke again, not paying attention to his Aunt’s and your attitude. He looked at the ceiling, looking for his words then he went on, “Until this business is settled we stay together. We stay here…” To assert his claim, Tommy explained how the family would be safe as long as they stayed together, surrounded by an army of faces they already knew. His plan was simple: all the family remained together until they manage to kill Luca Changretta. Until then, no one was allowed to stray away from Small Heath. Arthur's first reaction following this suggestion was to turn his head towards you, looking with concern for far too well he knew you didn't wish to stay. A small sigh escaped from your plumped lips as you dived into his sad eyes, but you remained silent. Worst, you remained awfully placid and hated yourself for looking so much like Tommy for a short while. The rest bored you to hell and blurred into a mush of unintelligible bribes of conversation, except for the mention of Aberama Gold and Johnny Dogs’ complaints about the man. Savages he had said. The same word he had used the first time you met him. She's a freakin' savage, Arthur. An evil creature straight from the woods! Rolling your eyes, you bit your tongue to keep your mouth shut, and not scream at Dogs to tell him that Aberama Gold might be a savage but at least he took care of you these last few days better than any members of the Shelby clan did. At least not before interminable months of insults and death/suspicious stares. As the conversation went on, Polly put a glass of whisky in front of you but you pushed it away almost immediately -- you've been feeling nauseous since you left Watery Lane so drinking strong alcohol was the last thing you had in mind. Thus, you simply passed the glass to Arthur, who certainly needed it more than you.

“… Which means we have to agree to end this war between us.” Thomas Shelby might be addressing the whole family, but you knew his words were mainly aimed at you, which only made you move your foot impatiently under the table. Ending this war, of course, you thought. And what about the last two years of misery you’ve made me undergo each time we met? What about the moment you strangled me? And what about all the awful things you said after thrusting your tongue in my fucking mouth?  These would have been all the things you would have screamed at him if your legendary coldness had broken. Which, fortunately for everyone in the room, hadn’t.

Truthful to himself, Tommy asked for the family to vote.

“Peace.” Arthur finally decided, taking the glass and gulping down the amber liquid it contained in hope it would numb him. It didn’t. As surprising as it was to hear the oldest sibling choosing a non-violent approach to a conflict, you knew it was the best decision to make. So as everyone shared their opinion, you thought deeply about yours until your turn came. At first, you didn’t realize it was already your time to speak — only the sudden silence and the weight of a dozen eyes on you could snatch you from your mind. And among the pair of eyes, the one that burnt the fiercest was Tommy’s.  

“Now we’re asking for my opinion?” You said, sarcastic venom coating your words.

“Angel, please…” Arthur whispered, but you waved off his comment with a disdainful gesture of the hand. He currently wasn’t in the position to advise you. Not after hurting you like he did. 

“Truce.” You stated, coldly. The word left your mouth with the power of a guillotine’s blade on an inmate’s neck and surprised everyone in the room. In truth, they were all convinced you would disagree with the idea. Polly and Ada offered you a warm smile, while Tommy lowkey nodded in approval at your wise decision.

“Five for peace, two for truce.  Let’s get on with the war.” He concluded, turning around and walking out of the betting shop without one last glance at any of his family’s members: his scheming mind already focused on the next part of his plan.

As always, Tommy couldn't live without pulling the strings.

As the room cleared out and people left, you remained alone with Arthur in an uncomfortable silence. Because you had nothing to tell him, you got up from your chair and proceeded to walk to the exit without uttering a single word but the tall gangster caught you by the wrist, forcing you to stop. His long fingers closed around you a bit too bluntly than he intended though. You winced and as a result, he immediately let go of you, showing his palm open to indicate that he didn't mean to hurt you.

“Heaven, please." His gravelly voice called. "Enough with the cold treatment…  I can’t. It’s hurting me.” He said rather slowly, for putting words on his emotions was not something he was used to. Most of the time he just yelled and resorted to violence. , “I beg ye, go back home, angel.”

"You had promised me, Arthur." You articulated.

"And you had also promised me not to hurt yourself anymore." His gruff voice raised a little bit, threatening to turn into frustrated yellings because he didn’t know how to properly communicate his emotions, especially not when they were so obsessive and overwhelming. But Arthur didn’t want to scream at you so what he did was take a deep inhale to force himself not to be his usual loud and rude self. “You also promised to me, love.” He repeated in a calmer tone even if his quivering upper lip and twitching mustache showed how much he was struggling.

“So now we both understand how it feels when the other part of your soul breaks a promise. What a great step forward we’ve made.” That was mean. So mean you could barely believe that such an awful taunt came from your tantalizing mouth — but even though you instantly regretted it, you didn’t falter. No matter your mad love for Arthur and the untamable desire to throw yourself in his arms, you weren’t going to bend: things needed to be clear right now or they’ll never never be.

“I’m sorry, love. I’m fucking sorry alright?!" He growled, opening his arms as to silently ask you what he had to do for you to believe him. "I swear there isn’t a second during which I’m not regretting everything I did and said to you.” He finally admitted, long arms falling along his slim body, “I wasn’t meself even if I know this ain’t no excuse. I won't do it again. But…Please Heaven I can’t go on without you. And I don’t want to.” The only answer to his pleadings was a heavy silence combined with your frost-like gaze.

Arthur’s eyes lingered over your arm until they fell on the deep cut you had inflicted upon yourself. This is what it feels like when you take drugs. The powerlessness he had felt when he watched the blood running down your skin and soaking the fabric of your clothes was etched in his mind: he, who had promised to protect you against everything, realized he couldn’t save you from yourself if you chose to destroy you… And that powerlessness was the same you experienced when he egoistically relapsed. That was a harsh lesson, but a lesson he had learned.  “Please forgive me.” He begged and sucked in a sharp breath as if he was physically in pain, yet he still took your arm in his hand with indescribable softness and, with his free one, caressed your still swollen and red gash.

Your dainty body stood still, trying not to give in to the delightful sensation of his warm skin against yours but your heart sunk in your chest “You have to understand that you cannot act like a jerk, hurt me, treat me like shit and then come back with your puppy eyes, and beg for forgiveness. It doesn’t work like that." You said.

“So you're not coming back...” His voice broke, warm hand closing on your wound.

Your touch. I need it. It's a damn physical need.

“Don’t be stupid Arthur…” You sighed, the traits of your angelic face softening, “That’s not what I said."

"So please, love. Forgive me. I'll do whatever ye want. I'll get on my knees right now if that's what you want." His body shifted, closing the distance between the two of you until his arms wrapped around your waist. Butterflies swarmed in your stomach at the sight of his enchanting blue eyes, whose color was so different from his brothers. Slightly darker, far less colder. With your heart beating fast and your mind buzzing, you couldn't keep your fingers from gently grazing one of his cheeks. He half closed his eyelids at the sensation, the tremors of his body already calming down now that you were touching him.

"I don't want you to get on your knees. And I don't want to make a dog out of you like Linda did. All I ask for is my husband, who I know is a wonderfully strong man who doesn't need any chemicals to face the world. Not anymore." Your holy voice sounded like the purest melody in his ears like God's mercy whispered to him. Lulled by your words and strokes, Arthur would have purred if he wasn't already fighting against tears of relief.

"I've been such a fucking bastard... What the fuck is wrong with me eh? I still can't believe every mean thing I've screamed. The words I told ya, they're eating me sick brain." He gritted his teeth, "I don't fucking deserve you." Noticing that his breathing was getting faster, you wrapped his neck with your arms and lifted yourself on your tiptoes to lay a kiss on his chin.

"Stop it, Art. Don't beat yourself." You whispered in his ear, one hand lost in his perfectly slicked hair. "You want me to forgive you? Well; show me that all these promises you made weren’t empty. That our wedding can overcome everything, even the worst. Prove it to me." As you spoke, you softly rocked him from left to right, trying to calm his anxiety. A sigh escaped from your lips: you just couldn't abandon him as everyone else did. And part of you cursed him for making you feel so weak, especially when he was looking at you with his confused puppy eyes.

“I’ll show you then, angel. I’ll show you because without you birds don’t sing anymore.”  He nodded, softly rubbing his cheek against yours. You could feel his heart drumming against your bosom, crying for yours to open up to him again. “I'll show you I'm still a good husband." His lips trailed down your cheek to capture yours, but the moment he tried to kiss them you slightly turned your head to the other side to deny him access to your mouth. He clenched his jaws.

“Go find Thomas and organize the funerals with him." You simply instructed, taking a step back to free yourself from his arms. The lanky gangster nodded and left, head down and arms swinging as he walked away.

All you wished now was that he truly meant what he said.

All alone in the betting shop, you leaned against a wall and closed your eyes, needing a bit of peace to reorganize your thoughts and soothe your overwhelming emotions. Moreover, you had to come to terms with the idea of living near Tommy, here in Small Heath. It has been only weeks since you left your small house in the forest but you already missed it. Suddenly, you jumped at the feeling of two cold hands grasping you by the shoulders. When you reopened your eyelids, you were met by Polly’s motherly smile and dark gaze. Eyes so black it outmatched the bark of the most ancient trees you had ever seen. And just like these trees, they had something mystical, as if they were keeping the Earth's secrets and infinite wisdom. For sure, Elizabeth Gray was a woman of nature, born in the wilderness and raised among the soft whispers of the leaves. You even wonder if her body contained blood or if it was amber sap that was coursing through her veins.

“I’m happy you came back, white Devil.” She said with a soft smile. Since the day she heard Tommy spat the insult at your face, she decided to reverse the curse and use it as an affectionate nickname for you -- an idea you found absolutely delightful.

“I’m a Shelby now, everyone says so… So I suppose my place is here.” The melancholy of your grin betrayed your thoughts and Polly understood that only now you were starting to understand what bearing this family name truly meant. “I'm not gonna lie, Polly, I didn’t want to come. That’s Mr. Gold who convinced me I needed to. After hours of bargaining, he got me by telling me it would get under Tommy's skin.” 

“You call him Tommy now?” She teased, trying to make you smile but little she knew her remark had the opposite effect. You pursed your juicy lips and looked away.

“Something happened with him right.” The fierce Aunt frowned, observing your face as if she would be able to find an answer to her question hidden in your holy traits. Now sincerely concerned, her grip tightened on your shoulders, like benevolent roots anchoring you to reality. While she knew the difficult and rocky relationship you had with little King Shelby, she had never seen you display such a dreadful expression when his name was mentioned. 

“Something always happens with him anyway. But that’s not important.” You closed the topic, not wanting to talk about him any longer. The fucker had done enough to infect your brain, so you didn’t want to give him more space. "Do you think Johnny Dogs says the truth about the Gold? I mean, I'm not Romani but the Gold are nice to me and--"

"Heaven. Oh Lord." She cut you off, her smile swept away from her face so quickly you blinked several times.

"What's the matter, Pol?" You asked, eyebrows frowned.

Freeing your shoulders, her left hand grabbed one of your breasts to squeeze it softly while the right one felt your abdomen at different places, looking for something you didn't know. The more she touched you, the more her facial expression seemed concerned. Completely taken aback by her sudden behavior, your lips parted in surprise as you watched her.

"Does Arthur know it?!" She inquired, her dark eyes switching between you and your tummy.

“Does Arthur know what?"

“That you’re pregnant.”

✞ Any comment, review, reblog, or constructive criticism is welcome. Your reactions really motivate me and keep me alive, so please don't be shy. English is not my first language.

✞ taglist: @adaydreamaway08 @theshelbyclan @jomarch-wannabe @esposadomd @zablife @woofgocows @anathemasworld @anastasia000 @kate654 @kxnnxy @babayaga67 @meowtastick @shelbyssins @sarai-ibn-la-ahad @bluevenus19 @raincoffeeandfandoms @kishie8 @zablife @alexandra-001 @dearshelby @alexizodd @helen06dreamer @kmc1989 @emotionalcadaver @peakyswritings @peakyltd @bluevenus19

[samantha-rae-velcher]

Trust is for the Weak

Ghost face!Schlatt x Fem reader

Requested by: none

Warnings: Sexual content! Blood, mentions of death, swearing, Schlatt cuz damn! Knife kink! Jealous!Schlatt, use of marijuana.

A/n: 18+ NSFW! If you don't like the warnings please don't read! PLEASE KEEP MY COMMENT SECTION AGGRESSION FREE!

@goldenstarofthunderclan ❤️

___

October 1999

Y/n sat on her couch watching the news, her best friends all chilling with her in her livingroom. Schlatt beside her, Ted on the floor in front of her, Travis and a couple others on Y/n's second couch.

"Marcus Kent and Susan Gillette were found dead last night on the grounds of Timson highschool, the two students were said to have multiple stab wounds. The murderer has not yet been found, police say they have no leads at this time."

Y/n clicked off the TV, her gaze dropped to the floor and her eyes filled with tears.

"Susan, why did it have to be Susan?" She whispered.

Schlatt slowly wrapped his arm around Y/n and pulled her into a hug, gently rubbing circles against her back.

"Fuck her boyfriend." She sobbed. "That asshole disserved it, but Suse? Why the fuck would someone do this?"

"Shh, it's okay." Schlatt whispered. "They'll find who did this."

Ted turned towards her, setting his hand on her thigh and giving it a reassuring squeeze. Schlatt had to hold back from pushing his hand away and pulling Y/n onto his lap, he hated when other men touched her. Even if it was just a friendly gesture, he wanted Y/n! He was always there for her, he always comforted her when she cried, even if it was over the phone, or he had to drive an hour to be there in person. Schlatt was there for her no matter what.

Y/n pulled away from the hug, giving him a smile and wiping her tears.

"Well, we're out of here." Wilbur said, throwing his arm around Tubbo and walking out the door.

Ted and Travis fallowed after saying their goodbyes, but Schlatt stayed behind.

"You gonna be okay?" He asked, slowly making his way into the kitchen with her.

"I'll be fine, it's just hard hearing that a friend was just killed...you know?"

"Yeah, I know." Schlatt came up behind her, placing his hands on her hips and kissed the top of her head.

"I'm your friend...right?" He asked.

Y/n turned around, a confused look on her face.

"Yes, of course. Why are you asking that?"

"Nothing, Ive just seen you and Ted lately and I'm wondering if something's going on between the two of you."

"Pfft, Ted Nivison? No...but why are you wondering."

"I'm afraid you're gonna start calling him for comfort, instead of me. That you'll look to him in a time of need and I'll just have to watch."

Tears filled Y/n's eyes, she would never push Schlatt aside. He was her best friend and she loves when he's around, being near him always made her calm and very happy. Y/n stepped closer, wrapping her arms around him and planting a kiss against his cheek.

"Id never abandon you like that, Schlatt." She said. "And nothing is or will ever be going on between me and Ted. I promise you that."

___

"So apparently people are saying that the killer is someone who goes to this school." Wilbur whispered.

"And I've heard that there's actually two killers, because there's no way that only one person could've killed Marcus and Susan." Carson cut in.

Y/n rolled her eyes, "Well I heard we have a test on Friday, so we all better get to studying."

"Some say...it could even be the person closest to you."

She gave Carson a dirty look, "Okay, so it's probably your mommy."

The rest of the table laughed as Carson's face turned red.

As the day went on more people started freaking out, they kept saying how the killer is probably someone close to you, or at least someone you know. Y/n was sitting in class, bored out of her mind when the principal came on the speaker.

"I regret to inform you, authorities have found Kristen Oakley dead in her backyard. It appears to have been the same person or people who killed Marcus and Susan."

The class went silent and Y/n clenched her fist, tears threatening to fill her eyes. She knew Kristen, they had been friends for two years. Y/n, Susan, and her had just made plans to go down to the roller skating rink today...but now, that's not happening.

Y/n stood up, grabbing her book bag and walking out of the classroom. She went outside into the cool crisp autumn air, spinning around when she felt a hand on her shoulder.

"Hey." Ted said. "You just left and I wanted to see if you were okay...are you?"

Y/n nodded, "Yeah, I just had plans with both Susan and Kristen...and now their gone. Those girls were like my sisters, what the hell is going on!?"

He stepped closer, he pulled her into a warm embrace and rested his chin on top of her head.

"It's alright, what were you guys gonna do?"

"Go to the roller skating rink."

"Tell you what, I'll go with you."

Y/n looked up at him, "What!?"

"Yeah, I'll go with you. I don't think the girls would want you to go home sad."

Y/n smiled, "Alright, we were gonna go at 6 after school."

"I'll pick you up."

Schlatt clenched his teeth, watching Y/n and Ted through the classroom window. His heart was racing, the thought of them getting together was eating at him. Imagining Ted's hands roaming her body as she whimpers his name, made Schlatt want Ted as his next victim.

___

Y/n and Ted laughed, doing spins and dancing on the rink to the song playing. The two brought smiles to people's faces, Ted lifted her and brought her back down slowly as the song ended.

"I didn't know you could skate." Y/n giggled.

"I didn't know either."

They skated till the rink closed, Ted drove her home and walked her to her door.

"I had a great night." He whispered, planting a gentle kiss to her forehead.

"So did I." Y/n's words to Schlatt kept playing in her head.

"Nothing is or will ever be going on between me and Ted, I promise you that."

Y/n lowered her brows, remembering the relieved look on his face.

"I promise you that."

"I'll see you tomorrow?" Ted asked.

"Yeah, I'll be at school."

Y/n watched as he went back to his car and drove off, she made her way inside and shut the door behind her just as the phone began to ring. She ran over to the phone on the wall, taking it down and holding it to her ear.

"Hello?"

"Did you have a fun time?" A deep scratchy voice asked from the other side of the phone.

"I beg your pardon."

"You and your little boyfriend skating together, that's cute."

A chill ran down Y/n's spine, "Who are you?"

"Funny, that's what Kristen asked before I shoved my knife in her gut."

Y/n's eyes widened and her knees went weak, she leaned against the wall, attempting to stabilize herself.

"Why?" She whispered.

"Cuz she was a mouthy little bitch, thinking she could strut around like a whore. Well she got the attention she wanted, just not from who she wanted."

Y/n slid down the wall, her breath shaky.

"And you killed Susan and Marcus?"

"No, I didn't."

"Who then?"

"Him."

The phone suddenly cut out and Y/n heard her door creak open. She stood up, slowly made her way over to the door and sure as shit it was wide open for all to see.

"Fuck." She whispered, turning and going to the back door and running outside. Y/n made it around the house and peaked through one of the windows, she saw a tall figure with a ghost mask on and a black robe with a hood, and a sharp knife in their hand.

Y/n slowly tip toed up her porch and grabbed her bookbag, shutting the door and running down the street. She pounded her fist against Carson's door, waking him up. He pulled it open only to be nearly trampled by Y/n.

"I need to use your phone."

"Why?"

"I just need to!"

Y/n snatched it off the wall and punched in 911.

"911, what's your emer-"

"Hi yeah, I'm Y/n Y/L/n. I just had to run to a friend's house, but I just got a call from someone claiming to have killed Kristen Oakley. And I had to sneak out of my house because I caught a glimpse of someone in my kitchen with a knife, they were wearing a long black robe with a hood, and they had a plastic ghost mask on. The only thing I could tell you about their physique is that they were at least 6'3 and up."

"Alright, I'm sending a couple cops down there, what is your address?"

___

Y/n came out of the interrogation room after giving a report, she sat down and waited for any sign that she could leave.

"Hey." Schlatt's voice said from behind her.

Y/n smiled, "Hey!"

She threw herself out of her chair, and wrapped him in a hug. "What are you doing here?"

"Carson said they took you down to the station so I came over to see if you're alright."

"Yeah, I'm okay."

"Ehem, Miss Y/L/n." The sheriff said.

"Yeah?"

"You can leave, but we're gonna have a patrol up and down your street tonight for your protection. Alright?"

"Okay, thank you."

Y/n grabbed her bag, "Could you drive me home, Schlatt?"

"You don't gotta ask twice."

The two walked out of the police station and over to his car, they hopped in and started towards her house.

"I'm glad you're okay, Y/n. I don't know what I would've done if I lost you." He said, his voice rather quiet.

"I might need someone to protect me tonight..."

She gave him a teasing look.

Schlatt's heart raced, he smiled and laced his fingers through her's.

"I'll protect you, my lady."

"With your life?"

"With my life."

They pulled up in front of her house, slowly Y/n opened the front door and stepped though. She grabbed the coat rack and held it like a baseball bat, ready to swing.

"Alright! You son of a bitch! You pull some shit in the genre of killing me, I'll kill you right fuckin back!"

Schlatt let out a laugh, "That's one hell of a threat."

Y/n set down the rack, "Hey, I'll do it too."

___

Y/n's alarm clock rang from upstairs, she opened her eyes to find her and Schlatt snuggled up together on her couch.

"Good morning." She whispered.

"Mmm, good morning. I gotta go home and get ready for school."

"You can get ready here."

"And go in the clothes I'm wearing? No, I can't."

Y/n made a pouty face and crossed her arms.

"No, I can't. No matter how cute you may be, I can't stay."

Once they sat up and he was out the door, Y/n ran upstairs and threw herself together. She was out in time for Wilbur and Tubbo to pull up and honk their horn.

"Hello, luv." Wilbur shouted as Y/n slid into the back seat.

They were almost to school when they saw police lights and caution tape. Wilbur stopped and the three got out of the car, Y/n looked around to see a boy sprawled out on the lawn.

"Mike Thormon." Wilbur said. "That's shit, he was a nice guy. He had a major crush on you Y/n."

"I didn't know him, we just sat next to each other in history."

"Come on." Tubbo said, gripping both of their arms. "Let's get to school."

___

Y/n was walking down the hall on the way to the restroom when she heard footsteps behind her, she kept turning around but no one was there. She pushed the door open and hid behind it, waiting for whoever was fallowing her to come in.

After about twenty seconds, the door opened and in stepped a tall person in that same black robe.

She held her breath and waited for them to walk further into the bathroom.

The door closed and she was right out in the open, against her better judgement she decided to speak up.

"Who the fuck are you?" She asked, startling the person. "You're obviously a guy, cuz of how fuckin tall you are and your body type."

Y/n stepped closer, fear completely slipping away.

"I wanna know why you killed them, it seems to me that you're going for people who I have ties to. Who are you gonna go after next? Ted? Carson? Wilbur? Schl-" She stopped, realizing how many people she could lose.

The man tilted his head, taking a step closer. Y/n took two back and this cycle kept repeating until her back hit the wall, and the man trapped her against it.

She looked up at the masks deep black eyes, searching for any clue of who was behind it.

All Y/n took note of was the scent, she didn't recognize it. But that narrowed it down on who it could be, if she hasn't smelt it before then there are few people in the school who wear it.

"If you get any closer, I'm gonna rip that fuckin thing off your head."

A dark chuckle came from under the mask, sending a chill down her spine.

"Who am I gonna kill next, Y/n?" It was the same voice from the phone. "Ted? Carson? Wilbur?.... Schlatt? That boy likes you, then again so did Mike but you didn't shed a tear over him..."

Y/n kneed the fucker in the stomach, she ran down the hallway and to the office.

"He was in the bathroom! Call the police!"

Once again Y/n ended up at the police station, making a statement. She walked out and got in the car with Schlatt, Ted, Carson, Wilbur, Tubbo, Charlie, and Travis.

"Let's do something." She whispered. "Let's do something like have a fuckin party! We might be dead tomorrow so let's live it up tonight! We're young, so let's do something we ain't ever gonna forget!"

The rest of them cheered and drove over to Ted's, he had the biggest house. The bigger the house the more people, the more people the worse the noise complaint, the worse the noise complaint...the more people are gonna get arrested. So, tonight was gonna be memorable.

Y/n sat on the porch and listened as the music was cranked and people were yelling and singing. Ted came outside and handed her a soda, putting an arm around her and getting close.

"If anything happens, I want you to know that I love you."

Y/n turned to him, shock written all over her face.

"Ted I-"

"How's this party, huh!?" Eric yelled coming out smoking weed. "You two love birds having fun? You gonna start fucking on the porch or are you gonna go upstairs like normal people?"

"Eric." Y/n said. "We aren't together."

He winced, taking another drag from his blunt.

"Ouch, well Ted you just got friend zoned."

With that he turned around and went back inside. Y/n looked down at her shoe and took a deep breath.

"I-"

"It's Schlatt isn't it?" He asked. "I see the way you look at him, but your afraid to say anything because of your friendship. I say you tell him, because he'd kill for you Y/n."

She smiled, "Is he inside?"

"Yep, I'll sit out here all by myself. Maybe if Travis or Charlie come out they'll be drunk and we'll start making out and I'll suddenly realize I'm gay."

"Oh shut up." Y/n giggled, pushing him.

She went back inside to search for Schlatt, she went upstairs and there was nothing. Y/n looked in the kitchen and in the livingroom, but he was no where to be found.

She was about to go into the garage when she heard Ted telling a hord of people to get out of his house.

Y/n went back to the living room to see everyone except her friends were leaving. She looked down and saw Ted's most expensive vase had been smashed on the floor.

"Shit, want me to help you pick it up?" She asked.

"No, I'll do it later. Let's just watch a movie, I'm pissed off."

"K." She said. "I'll make some popcorn."

Everyone else sat down on the couch and popped in a movie while Y/n went into the kitchen. She was about to open a cupboard when she felt some behind her.

She turned around to see Schlatt, he was leaned up against the fridge, a very displeased look on his face.

"Nothing is or will ever be going on between me and Ted, I promise you that." He repeated what she said. "You remember that? You remember when you told me that?"

"Nothing is going on between Ted and I, we're just-"

"Friends?" He asked. "Just friends?"

Schlatt got closer, trapping her against the counter. He leaned in, "Bullshit."

Y/n's eyes became glossy, she moved quick and pressed her lips against his.

"Not bullshit." She whispered, running her hands through his hair. "Not bullshit."

There was a sudden scream coming from outside, Y/n ran into the living room just as everyone else was getting off the couch. They went outside and looked around, Y/n gasped when she saw Carson laying face down by the garage door.

Y/n looked around at the rest of the group that was left after Ted kicked everyone out.

Schlatt, Travis, Wilbur, Tubbo, Charlie, and Ted himself. Now that Carson was dead there's five of them who are innocent.

"Who wasn't in the living room?" She asked.

Travis pointed at Schlatt, "He wasn't."

"He was in the kitchen with me."

"Anyone else?"

"I wasn't paying attention." Wilbur said.

Charlie shook his head, "Neither was I."

"Okay, I'm going back inside to call the police." She said. "Someone go get a car, and someone go to the neighbors just in case the phone lines are cut. The worst thing to do in a horror movie is to split up, but this needs to get done."

Y/n went back inside and looked for Ted's phone, running upstairs and into the master bedroom. She closed the door behind her and picked up the phone, holding it to her ear.

"Oh you're good." She whispered. "You did cut the line."

Y/n ran back downstairs and out the back door, she looked around and went to the garage. Going over to the car and opening the door, she found Travis slumped sideways with stab wounds in his chest.

The sound of those clicking footsteps from the school came from behind her, she spun around to see the man standing there.

"You're not him." She said. "You're taller."

Suddenly ghost face ran at her, knife in hand. She dodged and booked it back to the house. Y/n had to keep herself from screaming when she saw Tubbo covered in blood and laying on the front steps.

She went into the kitchen and grabbed a knife, Y/n started back to the livingroom when she heard Ted call her name.

She looked over at the front door only to watch him fall forward with a knife in his back. A sudden tap came from behind her that had Y/n spinning around, it was that same Ghost face from the bathroom only the mask was covered in blood.

Tears ran down Y/n's face as the hand came up and pulled off the mask.

"Schl-...No...No." Y/n dropped her knife and fell to her knees.

"Y-you killed Susan?"

"No sweetie...he did."

Y/n looked over her shoulder to see the taller Ghost face, "And who might you be?"

He pulled his mask off to reveal Wilbur with an unsettling smile on his face.

"I did it for you, Y/n" he said, his voice deep.

"What?"

"You're always so sweet...so loving..." He stalked closer to Y/n, putting his hand out to touch her.

"Always so beau-" a bang rang out and Wilbur dropped to the floor.

Y/n looked at Schlatt, who had a gun in his hand. He set it on the table beside the couch and looked down at Y/n.

"He was gonna take you away from me..." He said. "I couldn't let him do that..."

Y/n stood up and walked up to him, "You didn't have to kill them..."

"Who are you sad about? Carson? Ted..." His voice got deeper. "What has he ever done for you? I was always there for you!"

"Was?" She asked. "You aren't still? You're not gonna abandon me are you?" Y/n was attempting to manipulate him, so he wouldn't freak out and possibly kill her.

"No, Y/n. I'll never leave you." He whispered, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her close.

"I love you, Y/n. I'm not gonna leave you."

She closed her eyes and snuggled her face into his chest, listening to his reassurances.

"You really love me?" She asked.

"Yes, more than anything."

Y/n looked up at him, his eyes were dark and full of lust. She glanced down at his lips when she felt the blade of his knife against her stomach.

"You're mine, Y/n. Not Ted's, Not Wilbur's...you're mine."

The cold steel of the blade running over her skin made her whimper, "I'm yours, Schlatt...no one is taking me away from you.

Her hand came down and palmed against his cock, making him moan. Y/n trailed kissed down his neck and sucked on his sweet spot.

"Y/n I-" Schlatt stopped, they both looked over when they heard something being knocked over outside. A rush of happiness and relief washed over her when Y/n saw Ted was no longer on the porch.

THE END ❤️

I hope you enjoyed

Reblogs are welcome 🤗

[spicyclover]

Live Stream

Summary: You and Lando have been a thing for quite some time. After being friends for a year, you finally dared to ask Lando for an actual date. And that’s where everything starts. Rumours were heard but no confirmation, so they killed themselves until one LIVE with this idiot Charles. 

Hope you’ll enjoy this part. Let me know in the comments section! And to support me by tipping me!

Little information, I will, for now, only post on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays.

Thank you, and Enjoy! :)

Lots of love, xxx Spicy Clover

Lando was an live. Talking loudly, cracking a laugh sometimes and most of the time raging at the game and his friends. You were in the bedroom next door, and he was annoying. This has been going on for at least two hours, and you have had enough. 

You wear shorts and one of his hoodies and head outside. Go, it was much quieter here. You take his car to the nearest drive-through and order some food for you to eat while walking the streets. 

Meanwhile, Lando was still gaming with Charles, George and Alex. All three of them trying to ruin Charles's games, as always. Making fun of Alex's noise and George's unknowable of the actual gaming world. 

Oh right! They are playing the Goat simulator. 

“FUCK off, screamed Charles for a hundred times as his game crashed once more.” 

“Oh, come on, Charles, buy yourself a real computer because you are ruining our game.” 

“Shut up, Lando!” 

“No, for real, it’s like the fifth time you made me crash because you couldn’t drive, and now because...

“Fuck off, go back to fuck Y/n and let me play.”

After this sentence, Charles went silent. Looking at his camera where his streamers were going wild after he had just said. Nobody dared to talk, and this only made things worst. Them being silent, with eyes and mouths open. 

If Lando could disappear under a rock right now, he’ll do it. Far far away from this computer and this life. It’s finally George who ends the awkward silence.

“Well, I gotta go, guys. See ya!”

Alex follows shortly after with a lame excuse for doing the laundry. Lando finally comes out of his trans and ends his life and game without a word, just closing everything. “Well, Y/n going to kill me, that’s for sure.”

Charles was the last one an live. Need help figuring out what to do. He just stays there looking at his black screen. He looks at the camera and makes an awkward sound before saying goodbye to everyone. Taking his head in his hands, he tries to find a logical escape from the bombshell he just dropped on you and Lando. 

He grabs his phone and dials the number of Lando. He tries several times but always ends up in the voicemail. “That’s bad, and that’s really bad... I’ve fucked up.”

You are utterly oblivious to the bombshell that just dropped on your head. While eating your Mcdonald's at sea, your phone starts blowing up.

Your Instagram, Twitter and even WhatsApp his on fire. You finally saw the name of Lando calling you, and you answered. 

“Hi, baby! What’s going on? My phone blowing up. What did you do?”

The other line stays silent for a while, thinking about what he might say to you. 

“Lando! Answer me!”

“Baby... we need to talk.”

“What happens?” 

“I can’t tell you on the phone. Come home, please.” 

“Okay, sure. But I am apprehensive now.” 

You go back to Lando’s house. Once you arrive, you see him waiting for you at the front door, looking shocked and scared simultaneously. 

You step out of the car, and he quickly takes your arm to make you enter, looking at both sides like a madman. 

“Okay, you’re starting to scare me.”

“Babe, sit down, please.” He said while taking your hands to the couch. “Charles may have exposed us.”

“What do you mean, might?”

“Well, we were on live playing and at some point, Charles’s game crashed and I...”

“Go to the point!” 

“Well, he might tell me to fuck off and fuck you.”

“Okay?”

“And I panicked, and I froze. Making everything worse...” 

You stay silent for a while, looking at him. 

“So... we’re out?”

“Yeah... I’m sorry. So sorry. I didn’t want it to happen, but...”

You didn’t give him a chance to finish his sentence and kissed him. You kiss him with passion. You’ve been waiting so long for him to make your relationship public you can’t find the words. You’re happy, very happy, because you won’t have to hide when you accompany him to races. You won’t have to see all those girls flirting with him thinking he’s single.

“You’re not mad?” He asks, confused.

“No. I actually would kiss Charles if he was here!” You said, pushing him into the couch to kiss him again. 

“I’m so confused...”He said taking off your top.“Yet, I certainly don’t mind.”

[jeankirsteinsgrlfrnd]

Can we get AoT guys x bimbo reader headcannons both SFW and NSFW?

a/n: i think i’m going to make the nsfw section a different post just so i don’t subject anyone to see something they don’t wanna see. plus this would be a long ass post. these ones are all SFW.

eren jaeger loves his bimbo girlfriend. he thinks you compliment him so perfectly with you being so so sweet and eren willing to kill anybody who says something degrading to you. he adores you even if you are a little clumsy.

armin arlert loves you because you make him feel smarter than he already is. he loves that you’ll just listen to him over and over. you won’t complain or interrupt when he starts on his tangents but are rather fascinated. armin lives to teach you.

jean kirstein finds you refreshing, at least you’re honest about how smart you are. he liked that you didn’t try to be intelligent or try to be different. you were his peace, you were his calm. perfect for jean’s hotheadedness. one sweet, empty-look from you and he’s melted.

connie springer brags about you 24/7. he’s got the prettiest girlfriend in all of the land. he doesn’t even mind that you’re not that bright. you’re loving, you’re funny without trying, and you’re fuckin gorgeous. connie couldn’t be happier with you.

reiner braun thinks you’re his dream girl. you’re beautiful, you’re kind, and not that coordinated. he gets to have eye candy and protect you. he feels like you need him and that’s what he wants most in a relationship.

bertholdt hoover doesn’t prefer to have that much of a committed relationship with you. he likes an intellectual debate but he still appreciates your company. there are times though where he can’t stop wondering if he should date you.

levi ackerman gets frustrated with you but fuck, does he find you adorable. you aren’t stubborn or so strong headed like other people he knows. you’re so go with flow that it drives him crazy but he learns to appreciate it. he learns to appreciate the idea of being in control of little things, not major decisions.

erwin smith likes the power balance between you. he likes to guide you, to inform you. it boosts his ego. you don’t mind, you just love him. he’s perfect for you.

zeke jaeger is so intrigued by you. he needs you by his side twenty four seven. he wants and cherishes your opinions, no matter how far out they may seek. you’re something so special, so unique to him.

porco galliard loves his bimbo girlfriend. this is the perfect himbo-bimbo relationship. people wonder about you guys all the time but honestly, your relationship is pure bliss. there’s no bullshit, no drama, nothing but pure, unrelenting love. but tbh, it’s a miracle y’all have made it this far.

my jean fanfiction

my ko-fi (help me replace my phone battery pls ily)

[m-y-fandoms]

COMMISSION: TW - SDR2 Boys Stop You from Committing Suicide (comfort endings)

Some scenarios take place during the DR3//No Despair era at Hope’s Peak and some during the SDR2 island killing game. SDR2 SPOILERS INCLUDED

Word Count: 10K Words

TRIGGER Warnings: DO NOT READ IF YOU CAN’T HANDLE THESE TYPES OF SCENARIOS. All sections are angst or depressing but end with the character comforting or saving the reader and the reader’s plan isn’t successful. Self-harm and plans of suicide are discussed and detailed. Situations and objects like drowning, pills, guns, knives, poor mental health, and more are included. PLEASE KEEP IN MIND DANGANRONPA IS RATED M for 17+ and canonically includes themes of murder and suicide. You are responsible for the media you consume. Keep reading below with these warnings in mind if you so choose.

Hajime Hinata

It’d been days without food and you felt like you were officially going crazy. Apparently it wasn’t enough that you’d been forced to see your classmates die in the most painful, cruel ways, betray each other, lie,  and scheme, now you had to starve on top of it all? You couldn’t take it anymore: the dryness of your mouth, the grumbling of your stomach. One thing right after another, days turned into weeks of misery, of despair even. But that was Monokuma’s goal all along. You barely ever left your cabin these days, fearing you’d see the worst side of one of your classmates in the form of a swift knife to the back as soon as you stepped out. You barely trusted anyone other than your best friend Hajime anymore. It was so hard to, when you’d trusted Mikan, the meek nurse, Peko, the intelligent and disciplined swordswoman, Nagito, the chill dude putting up an entire act to hide his craziness. Your cabin was always locked with you inside. You hated leaving, and now you were stuck in this damned funhouse, tricked here by that monsterous bear. You felt delirious: mental health declining, hands shaking, mind drifting.

You looked around your room - one of the average rooms in the funhouse’s living quarters - dimly lit like some villain’s secret hidden cave. Scattered around the floor were weapons you’d obtained as a reward for clearing the Final Dead Room, along with scraps of paper lined with scrawled plans and ideas. The ravings of a mad person it would likely seem to anyone else who viewed them.

Your plan seemed simple enough: Kill Nekomaru, make it obvious that it was you, get executed as the blackened and confess and insist, should it not be obvious enough. You wanted people to witness, to be convinced it was you so you could leave this wretched island forever. You felt like you were taking the coward’s way out, but you just couldn’t push yourself to do the job on your own. Maybe you were a coward, but you just wanted out, as soon as possible.

The plan was to make it as painless as as possible for the robot, if he even felt pain. That’s why you chose him as the victim in the first place. Honestly, it was adding to your rapidly plummeting downward mental spiral, the way your peers were treating Nekomaru. It was driving you fucking crazy. They acted as if it was just… normal. None of this was normal. Nekomaru was your friend, flesh and blood, and now he was just this… thing, this metal abomination. It’s not him in there, you’d repeat over and over like a mantra in your head when you saw the bot. It was disrespectful to his memory. Were you the only sane one here, side-eyeing the bot, avoiding him out of discomfort? You found yourself asking: If they uploaded an AI of my personality into a computer, is that me?

No.

It’s not. You all should have just accepted that the real Nekomaru was gone forever. It would be merciful to kill his replacement instead of a real human. It’s wouldn’t even be an actual murder, no guilt on your conscience. Monokuma wouldn’t see it that way though, and that’s all that mattered.

“(Y/N)?” You are shaken out of your mindless planning, sucked out of your thoughts by a knock at your door. Hajime. You recognized his voice and panicked at the state of the room around you. Hajime was a dear, always doing rounds to check on his friends, especially in this particularly stressful situation. As you and he were a closer as friends, he tended to check on you a little more often. You ignored his knocks, sent into an frenzy as you started kicking papers under the bed and hiding as many weapons as you can. You hear the handle jiggle and the door opens quickly behind you. Hajime spared no time when he’d gotten no reply from you. He’d lost too many to take his time anymore. A second too late could mean death for a friend, as he’d learned. You could’ve been dead, passed out from hunger, injured.

He freezes as you turn to face him like a deer in headlights, taking in the insane scene before him. He was definitely looking at the pile of weapons scattered everywhere - definitely noticing how unhinged you looked - and immediately begins questioning you, closing your door behind him for some privacy. It’s when you start stuttering, sputtering out excuses and deflecting that he truly takes in your mental state. You look completely deshelved and unwell, worse than everyone else though you were all starving and on edge.

“Where did you even get all of these?!” He gestures to the murder tools in desperation, just wanting an honest answer from someone he actually trusted. When you reveal the existence of the Octagon beyond the Final Dead Room, he presses you further: “Well what were you planning to do with all of them?” He is apprehensive of your answer. Seeing the genuine look in his eyes that seemed ever-present, you broke down, sighing deeply. You run your hand down your face, defeated,exposed. He sees you visibly sink into yourself as you prepare to finally give it to him straight.

“Look, Hajime, you and I have always been honest with each other. You’re one of the few here I can truly trust so I’m just going to admit what’s going on here… I feel like I owe you that much. I’m not proud of this but…” You hesitate, feeling like finding conviction in your words was an insurmountable task. Your bottom lip began to quiver. You’d held these plans confidently inside your head, but you’d yet to acknowledge them aloud. “... I was going to take a life tonight… I was going to make myself the blackened and then confess, taking someone with me…” Your voice breaks, ashamed of your words.

The room goes quite for a while, as Hajime just stares at you, thinking, not sure what to even say. He hadn’t expected you to be so blunt, though his assumptions were confirmed. You can see his chest heaving in the silence, hearing only and his loud exhales. You’d seen Hajime carry your class through trial after trial, seen him peice together complex evidence. He wasn’t stupid. He inferred in his mind as he stared that your target would be Nekomaru. You see the gears turning in his head. It made sense, as you loved hanging around the boisterous team manager before his transformation, and after… you seemed to avoid him like an ex at a party. He knows… but he doesn’t want to say anything, doesn’t want to have this difficult conversation.

Slowly, so gently, he simply sinks down to your level as you sit there resting on your shins on the ground. He pushes some of the mess aside, looking you in the eyes before wrapping his arms around your starving body. You let him, not moving an inch, taking in his warmth. Maybe this is what was intended for you, maybe you needed only to hear his next words:

“You’re not going to do this, okay?” You feel him nodding, his chin tucked into your shoulder. “I’m going to be here for you, so I need you to be here for me too, right?” Hajime wasn’t always the best at comforting others in his own opinion, but you knew he was trying his best. Rather, others would say he was good at comforting his friends, but he felt awkward while doing so, like he wasn’t built for mushy moments. “We’ll escape this together: you, me, and everybody else. You have to keep trying for them, too. You can’t do that if you’re dead, right?” He chuckles, trying to lighten the mood as the stress rolls down his brow in the form of sweat. He felt like cringing at his own words, wondering if he was helping at all. “If you do this, Monokuma wins, and I sure as hell know that you don’t want that. You’re needed here and wanted here, and I know you’re stronger than this.” He feels his shoulder become soaked as your silent tears roll down your face and through his shirt. “H-hey, can I stay here tonight, with you?” He was asking, but you were going to have to physically remove him if you said no.

Nagito Komaeda

You’d been staring down at the knife in your shaking hands for what felt like an hour. In reality, it couldn’t have been more than fifteen minutes. The blade was long, sharp, gleaming silver. How easy it would be to just… end it. You hesitated, thinking about the pain. How much would it hurt, based on the location of insertion? What was the quickest method to just get it over with?

You sighed. You’d miss playing games all night with Chiaki to avoid thinking about more dismal matters. You’d miss discussing true crime with Sonia, late night snack runs with Akane - whom you always felt safe with. Most of all though, you’d miss Nagito, who you’d developed quite the friendship with. His complex thought process and quirky personality fascinated you, and it was never a boring time when he was around. He seemed to like being a loner, always planning or deep inside his own head, but he didn’t seem to mind when you tagged along. In fact, he sometimes remarked that he didn’t deserve your company, and complimented you skills as an Ultimate student. You’d miss knowing someone as unique as him and having them actually enjoy your friendship.

The room around you made you shiver. The ambiance was so cold and hostile. Now past the Final Dead Room, you’d found yourself rewarded by stepping into the Octogon, a hidden room just beyond. Honestly, if you hadn’t picked up better problem-solving skills through trials and the help of your more intelligent friends like Nagito and Hajime, you may have never completed the Final Dead Room. The Octogon, different from the escape room before it, seemed to be a bunker, a weapons cache filled wall to grey wall with deadly tools of every kind. There was even a fridge that contained lethal poisons. When Monokuma described a reward for passing the Final Dead Room, you’d expected a secret passage out of the funhouse, or maybe some food at least. You should’ve known better.

Tearing your eyes away from the knife, you are startled as the door back to the Final Dead Room behind you bursts open. Nagito Komaeda of all people stumbles into the Octogon, his usual casual lanky form slinking in. His expression was carefree, that standard stoner-adjacent look glazed over his face… as if he didn’t just complete a deadly game of Russian roulette to get here.

“Nagito?! What are you doing here?” You panicked, not expected to be walked in on in this vulnerable state.

“I could ask you the same thing, (Y/N)...” He smiled mischeviously. “I followed you here, of course!” Oh yeah, of course! Why hadn’t you thought of that? “Couldn’t let you have all the fun! To my surprise, when I tried to enter the Final Dead Room behind you, Monokuma stopped me and said I had to finish when you were done. Everyone’s expected to take on the Dead Room on their own, apparently.” He held his hands up and shrugged. “So, after I passed the Final Dead Room, Monomi confirmed that you were through the door at the end.” He sighed. “What a pain to have her in there as a distraction though. I was hoping to catch up with you immediately. Oh well…” You stood stock still, the knife still in hand, so unsure of what to do. How was he always so nonchalant? “So this is what Monokuma’s been hiding back here, huh?” He looked around, taking in the myriad of weapons like they were nothing of note. Then his gaze trailed back to you, scanning you up and down. “By the way, why are you holding that knife like that?”

You suddenly feel extreme embarrassment run up your spine, your skin heating up. Your lack of words tells Nagito everything he needs to know. He was highly astute and intuitive, and you could see him analyzing the emotions laid bare all over you face. Nagito was always a step ahead. You could see it every time you were with him, from playing a simple card game in your cabin, to the seriousness of a class trial. It was near impossible to get one over on him. You feel sweat run down your forehead as you realize he’s figured you out. You’re too kind-hearted to kill someone else, and you’d confided in him at length about your ongoing poor mental state, how you couldn’t take this anymore and felt drained.

Over the many times you’d hung out with him, he’d grown to care about you enough to stop this path you were going down, and sensed the potential for a great wellspring of hope to burst forth from inside of you. He saw you as worth saving, and found himself genuinely caring about your fate, so slowly, he approached you, reaching out for the knife in your hand. When you don’t resist, he coaxes it out of your grip and quickly moves to distract you.

“Huh, that’s weird. Wonder where that window leads…” Gesturing over your shoulder, he leads you over to the very small square window, the only window in the entire room in fact. He hopes silently that the embarrassment of being caught and the knowledge that he’s watching you is is enough to stop you from attempting in the future.

~

It was now well into the night, and your new plan was in motion. This time you’d move at night while Nagito was sound asleep in his luxury sound-proofed room. Everything was seeming to fall into place.

It was already established and agreed upon that Grape Tower and Strawberry Tower were the same location with Chiaki’s eHandbook test. It was still debated amongst your peers just how they could be the same room or how the elevators worked, but now you and Nagito knew better. The window in the Octogon had revealed to only you two what the true secret of the funhouse was. The two towers were one big column, and the floor shifted up and down like an elevator. Your plan was solidified as soon as you realized this fact. A fall might hurt far less than a slow bleed-out. It could be instant death if you did it right.

You’d made a deal with Kazuichi, the Ultimate Mechanic. He trusted you enough to let you keep it vague, and his hunger exhuastion certainly helped with him not giving a fuck about your reasoning. You all knew that the doors to Grape and Strawberry Tower couldn’t be opened at the same time. Everyone assumed it was so that they appeared to be different places to trick you all, but now, you and Nagito knew it was so the floor of the towers could move up or down, concealing the risk of a fall. You simply asked Kazuichi if he could disable this function in the doors so that both tower doors could be open at any time. He was tiny bit hesitant at frist, but nearly started drooling when you showed him a huge toolbox you’d allow him to keep if he used it to do what you asked. It was so very tempting, but led him to worry about where you obtained this treasure in the first place, and if Monokuma would be upset about him meddling with the doors. You alleviated his fears by assuring him that there were no rules against it in the eHandbook and that you’d take the heat if Monokuma got mad. While he paced, you pushed him, stating that the offer was quickly expiring along with the precious toolbox. In the end, he just couldn’t resist those new toys, especially when trapped in the monotony and starvation in the funhouse.

So now here you stood, looking down at the perilous drop from the high-up door to Strawberry Tower onto the floor of Grape Tower. You felt empty inside, both literally and emotionally as you hadn’t eaten in days. There was a hollow, grim feeling to the neon tower at night, something uncanny. Unlike the knife, once you lept, that was it. It would be freefalling, out of your hands. It might even feel like a relief. There was no pushing a blade in further, this would be much easier. You’d left a note in your room stating it was suicide, and trusted your closer friends to confirm your handwriting. Hopefully they didn’t think it was some trick by a real blackened.

Your heart was racing, blood pounding in your ear. You take a deep inhale, and hold your breath. Closing your eyes, you step a single foot out over the ledge to the fatal fall.

Silently and sudden as a gust of wind, a lithe pair of arms wrap around your waist and pull you back. The movement is desperate, sudden and jarring. You gasp and stumble back, falling on top of your rescuer with a thud. Nagito groans beneath you with the force, knocked over with your weight. You knew it was him, by the voice, the smell, the paleness of the arms clasped in a vice-like grip around your waist.

You both say nothing for a while as the severity of the situation sinks in. Suddenly, like a tsunami, a wave of emotions hit you, and you begin to sob at the reality of what you were about to just do. Your chest hurts and your tears flow freely down your face and onto Nagito below you, spattering onto his skin. You want to yell out, to scream What was I thinking?!, to curse yourself. He squeezes you once, as if to say:

You don’t need to say a thing…

“It’s a good thing I happened to be out for a walk, huh?” He speaks after a long while, letting you calm down. He continues his deflection: “Looked like you were about to slip!” He clears his throat and begins to run one bony hand through your hair to comfort you, allowing you to lay there on his chest for just a little longer.

Nekomaru Nidai

There was a simple beauty to the warm, sunny beach out behind the diner on the second island. The sand was soft and the water always looked serene. Usually, you’d come with friends and swim or have a little picnic, but today you were there alone, and for much less pleasant reasons. The beaming sun and tropical scenery stood in stark contrast to the dark clouds inside your mind.

You were floating out in the middle of the water, pondering. It was all too much. Something was so off: this island, the killing game, even your classmates at times. Nothing about this all felt real to you. You didn’t feel real, lost in your own head, a prisoner in your own body. It was bad enough you’d watched Togami and Teruteru die gruesomely, or that you’d just recently sent Fuyuhiko to the hospital after the deaths of Mahiru and Peko. It was traumatizing, and yet it felt so… unreal. And it would only continue. You were sure of that, despite the naive positivity of some of your classmates.

You wanted out, to just disappear without a trace. You felt hopeless and trapped each and every day on this maddening island. You hated the mocking feeling of being stuck in a killing game in a beautiful paradise like this, the irony. If everything went according to plan today, you’d successfully swim down as far as you possibly could, hold your breath, and when you couldn’t take it any longer, hopefully not have enough air to make it to the surface. Hopefully, you’d sink to the bottom of the ocean with a big gulp of water in your lungs. Maybe if your body was never found, there would be no trial. That was the only selfless part of this plan if you managed to pull it off: no trial, no work put on your classmates to solve it. After all, a body had to be found to start an investigation.

Without hesitation, you began your last journey, swimming straight downwards into the deep water, making sure to take a pathetic inhale beforehand to make this all go faster. Maybe, just maybe, you’d wake up on the other side, feeling real again. Once you reach the bottom, you sink into the sand bed and begin to pass the time by thinking of the few things you would miss about this island hellhole, the friends you’d made even though you seemed to lose another each week.

Your heart started to race as you thought about Chiaki letting you win in that first person shooter. Your lungs began to sting and you think of Ibuki and Sonia forcing you out of your comfort zone with new music, activities and movie genres. The sting turns into a burn, and you try to push back any second thoughts as Akane’s tough love and Nekomaru’s beaming smile come to mind. The tried their best to make you feel better, support you, uplift you. They actively put time into making you stronger, in both body and mind. The valued mental fortitude just as much as a healthy body. They made you feel seen, like your company was never a burden, like a big brother and sister. Their blunt honesty could be so refreshing.

Lost in your thoughts, you begin to feel it in your throat. It’s coming… You begin to gag, choke, drown. Struggling on instinct, you kick your feet and grasp at your chest. You look up to see the sun shine down through the water, and feel… sad. It was the last thing you’d expected to feel. You were sure you wanted this…

The last thing you see before your world goes dark is a large shadow swimming in your direction. The muffled sound of movement, an object rushing toward you is all you hear before you let yourself go.

~

Without warning, you’re conscious again. You have a feeling you’re not on the other side when you feel your back  being slammed down onto the sand of the beach. There’s a pressure on your lungs, nearly bursting them and your eyes fly open in shock. Sputtering, you flip onto your side and spit out what feels like a gallon of salt water. You cough up a lung, so dazed that you nearly miss the large shadow completely eclipsing the sun, looming over you.

Nekomaru spoke, and the sheer volume of his deep voice startles you. You turn to face him and find that he looks sad, a rare expression for him. You’d seen him jolly, determined, angry even, but rarely sad. He looked… disappointed, on his knees right before you, so close. You hated that look on his face, even more knowing you caused it. After a long sigh, he began to speak:

“I was in the diner eating lunch… Through the windows I saw you swim out and go under but… after a while, you weren’t coming back up. I’ve seen you swim many times before… you’re an amazing swimmer, I know it. I really hope this was an accident… but-” Before he can finish, you throw yourself up and into his arms before he could see you cry. You hid your face over his shoulder, begging him not to finish his sentence. You didn’t want to acknowledge it, to hear the hurt in his voice. You just wanted someone you cared about to touch you, to make you feel real. He was always on your side, rooting for you, you didn’t mean to hurt him like this. The sand stuck to your soaked bodies as you held him, begged him to hold you back. When you whimper, trying to hold in your cries, he finally does.

“When you’re ready, we can talk about this, and for as long as you need,” he grumbles.

Gundham Tanaka

Gundham, although he was an amazing friend - your best friend in fact - wasn’t the best person to vent to. He had a ton of shit of his own to deal with, you could tell. He came with a lot of emotional baggage locked deep inside. The facade and dramatics, it was all an act, a wall he put up to protect himself from the world that hurt him as a child, the world that made him feel irreparably different. You couldn’t exactly vent about your long-term depression and anxieties to someone who would turn it into a lecture on demonic energies or a pep talk about how you were one of the most powerful mortals he’d ever come across as the Supreme Overlord of Ice. Sure, it would cheer you up sometimes, his theatrics would often make you laugh, but it was always temporary. Besides, he wasn’t a therapist, trauma dumping on him all the time wouldn’t be cool, and he obviously coped by escaping into his realm of fantasy. Why would you want to possibly rehash any old wounds of his by bringing him back down to the realities of Earth? You had too much love for him to do that.

You spent as much time with him as possible, though. It was one of of the few things that brought you joy anymore. You’d lost interest in most if not all of your old hobbies. He sensed it, you knew, but became awkward and nervous, never knowing quite how to both cheer you up and stay on script.

Hope’s Peak provided Gundham with a building of his own on the large campus. It tripled as a sort of animal reserve, rescue, and clinic. Most Hope’s Peak Ultimates had their own space dedicated to honing their talent, and this was his. That was the most important part of their school day after all. The other subjects were second priority. Gundham referred to the Ultimate Breeder’s building as his dark temple, his sanctuary of gloom, always something to that effect. He rarely let anyone who wasn’t in the breeding club enter, and even then he kept a close eye on its members. You joined the club because you cared for him, but you doubted he would ever kick his best friend out regardless. He often made exceptions to his rules for you, using some excuse about how he’d baptized you in shadows to make you worthy, or placed a protection spell first.

The breeding club building was truly impressive. There were medical wings, feeding stations, training rooms, even outdoor yards and runs for the animals to feel free. Everything was so well kempt. The place was split up to accommodate different animals and keep prey and predators apart, and there were some dangerous predators to be found there. You’d even seen Gundham bring a perfectly trained bear to class before. Everyone was in awe that day.

In the clinic area, you sat waiting for Gundham to bring some restock supplies. Sitting there with only your own sadness to keep you company, you began to drift into the dark recesses of your mind yet again. It felt like a daily occurrence lately. You felt insecure, worthless, dangerous. Across the room, you gazed into the cage of a particularly nasty breed of snake. It was deadly venomous, and seemed to be calling out your name. Without thinking, as if in a trance, you raise to a standing position. It feels like you’ve lost all control of your limbs as you hover over toward the testy reptile. Unlocking it’s cage door with a click, you reach in, letting the snake coil around your hand with no reluctance, like a person possessed. Like you had nothing to lose.

Being Gundham’s ward, it’s pretty well behaved already, but still new to the rescue and with a slight feral side not yet trained out completely. With your free hand, you grab its head gently and press its mouth into your wrist. You bump its nose into your skin, not enough to hurt the snake, just irritate. Gudham wouldn’t approve of you hurting any animal. You could never. With a small hiss, it pulls back slightly and strikes forward, latching its fangs down deep into the flesh of your wrist. You cry out, feeling something for the first time that day. The fangs were long and dug in snuggly.

Gundham’s deep voice startles you, booming as he enters with the box of supplies in his hand. He’s boasting, something about how the check-ups would go smoothly with you there to assist today when his words are cut off by the sight before him.

The snake in your hand was just now pulling its fangs out of your skin, and you had a horrified look on your face at his sudden appearance, like you didn’t want him to see. His mind started racing, instantly in fight or flight mode - more like save or let die mode - fitting for a man who spends so much time around creatures that run on survival instinct. You drop to your knees, the venom already beginning its work. Your rapidly numbing hand fell to the ground, the snake safely slithering down and onto the floor. Gundham rushed over to the snake, scooping it up and locking it safely back into its cage to secure the area.

You started feeling woozy, feeling heat creep up your arm and spread through your veins to your shoulder and chest. It both hurt and felt tingly, like a limb that had fallen asleep but was simultaneously on fire. Your head began to pulse like a searing migraine, and you were sure the stress of having Gundham there to watch your downfall was making it worse. Your vision was now swimming, blurry and dimming. Gundham is rushing over to you, grabbing you up into his arms, but his yells are muffled as if there were cotton balls in your ears. And then, with a sudden surge of pain in your lungs, you black out.

~

When your eyes finally crack open, you find them sensitive to the light above. You look around slowly, taking in the familiar surroundings of Hope’s Peak Academy’s hospital wing. You gasp softly when you try to move your right hand and feel resistance tugging back. You glance down, tearing up when you see a bandaged hand firmly clasped around your own. Gundham is pulled up in a comfy chair next to your hospital bed, his head resting on the bed beside your thigh. He’s sound asleep, probably sleeping off the stress you put him through. The curl at the end of his striped hair lays across your blanket. He looked intense even unconscious, his brow furrowed, scrunched up in worry. You said a quiet thank you to his sleeping form, running a hand through his hair lovingly. You assumed that if it weren’t for Gundham quickly administering one of the antivenoms he kept on hand in his clinic, you would’ve been dead before you could even reach the main building’s hospital across campus. You imagined that the view of him carrying your limp body across the grounds in a sprint would’ve been a sight to see.

Fuyuhiko Kuzuryu

You’d been friends with Fuyuhiko for years. You, him, and Peko formed an inseparable trio growing up. Peko felt an overwhelming urge to protect you at all times, but you constantly begged her not to, to lay off, as her job was to live to protect Fuyuhiko, and nobody else. You didn’t want to get her in trouble, and his parents already hated you. They saw you as a pest, a bad influence on their son and a distraction from his destiny of being the clan’s leader one day. You had no yakuza ties, you were just a kid from the same side of the city who got mixed in with little Fuyuhiko as kids. Boss Kuzuryu would’ve loved to be rid of you, and it would’ve been easy too, but his stubborn son convinced him years ago that if he wanted his blood in Hope’s Peak Academy one day, he would have to be used to being around “normal” people his age sooner or later.

You, Fuyuhiko and Peko would sneak around Kuzuryu territories and never get caught or scolded. Being in the company of the boss’s son did help of course. With Fuyuhiko’s knowledge of his father’s empire, you learned where not to go and when, patrol schedules, enemy territory lines, meeting spots and so on. It was like some kind of adventure. As kids, it felt like playing pretend: criminals, thugs, crime lords, avoiding police. Except it was all real. Your parents rarely knew where you truly were, as you lied to spare them from heart attacks.

After over a decade together, you truly loved Fuyuhiko, maybe even as more than a friend, though you’d rather die than ever admit it. He was easier to get along with than people gave him credit for. They were intimidated by his family’s reputation, but you knew the real him. He could be a hothead, but he genuinely cared about the people in his life. He was unlike many other yakuza member’s you’d met, often only putting up an uncaring front because he felt like he had to. You’d always been close, but as you began school at Hope’s Peak, a distance began to grow between you. As you got older, you’d begun to feel this odd, uncontrollable sense of sadness deep within. Each year as another birthday passed, it got worse. It was getting harder and harder to ignore. You’d often withdraw from Fuyuhiko and Peko, not wanting to burden them with this depression you couldn’t seem to shake. Fuyuhiko wasn’t good at talking about feelings anyway. Peko was no better. They certainly were no one’s therapists, and you didn’t want to put that on them anyway. How could they fix you when you yourself didn’t know what was wrong? You were starting to feel pushed to the edge by your own mind. You couldn’t go to therapy either. It felt humiliating. Your best friend was the toughest guy in the world. He would never step foot in a therapist’s office.

You’d had thoughts lately, unsafe thoughts about a permanent solution to the problem. You’d try to push them back, but without support, with your own mind betraying you, you felt more and more hopeless each day. You felt like you needed him, to talk to your best friend before you did something stupid. So right after classes were finished for the day, you headed off campus to the Kuzuryu complex. You knew he’d be there right after school on this day of the week. You also knew that weren’t supposed to go there alone, that it was extremely dangerous to be on Kuzuryu property without an escort, but you were desperate. You’d held onto this for far too long.

It wasn’t until you were skirting along the brick wall to the back entrance of the main Kuzuryu mansion that your heart began to race with second thoughts. The inital gut feeling that stopped you from reaching out to Fuyuhiko in the first place months ago was back in full force. Maybe this was the wrong choice. Fuyuhiko had so much on his plate. He didn’t need your cry baby ass dumping your feelings onto him. Maybe he and Peko would be better off without you in their lives at all. Maybe… the initial thoughts you’d woken up with this morning were the right ones.

You peeked around the corner of the wall. This was dangerous territory. Everyone in town knew to avoid this area if they valued their lives. Non-clan members who entered were liable to be shot or shanked on sight. That didn’t happen often though, as the locals had enough common sense. Fuyuhiko had to be inside, and would’ve come out to get you if he knew you were coming.

But you didn’t want him to know anymore. You wanted to just end it, to fade away and never bother anyone ever again, to never feel this way again.

Before you can change your mind yet again, you round the corner into the courtyard preceding the back entrance, and the guards are alerted immediately. Their guns are trained on you with practiced percision. You prepare for your life to be over, for the pain of bullet fire and screw your eyes shut. The yelling and swearing of the guards, prepared to pull the trigger is abruptly halted when you sense a presence in front of you. You open your eyes to see Fuyuhiko standing before you, arms outstretched in a protective stance. He’s swearing like a sailor at his underlings, face red as a tomato with rage.

“Fuyu..hiko?” You sniffle, barely above a whisper. This feels unreal, that a miracle like this would happen to you in what should be your last moment. The petite gangster guarding you was burning with a level of anger too hot to even have your meek voice register in his mind.

“How dare you point that damn gun at (Y/N)!” He was ranting, on a temper-high, and his subordinates were cowering with every word. Upsetting the boss’s son was not a good look for them. Finally satisfied with the amount of fear he’d struck into them, he ordered them to get lost, before things got worse for them. Now alone with you in the empty courtyard, he turned to face you, taking a deep breath to calm himself. That anger should be reserved for the deserving, and he hated when you saw him get like that. He knew he could be a dick, a tempermental jerk at times, but he had a soft spot for you and hated to see you upset. Seeing your forlorn expression finally for himself, he grabbed your shoulder, ushering you off and into the side room he’d entered from when he first saw your foolish ass step into the courtyard alone. Bringing a thumb up, he wiped a tear from the corner of your eye that threatened to fall. “Come on, we have to talk.”

Teruteru Hanamura

Your best friend on campus, Teruteru Hanamura loved cooking for you. Of course he loved cooking, he was the Ultimate Cook after all, but he found it especially rewarding to cook for someone he truly cared about. He was like his mother in that way. You always taste tested his newest culinary creations and were brutally honest about your reviews so he could improve. He spent many lunch periods making you extravagant meals. He refused to let you pack your own, order out, or eat at the cafeteria. It was a win-win: the school saw every minute he spent cooking as him honing his ultimate talent, and you got free food. You guys would chat it up for hours, playfully flirt, and just enjoy each other’s company.

Much to his chagrin, he started to notice you coming to your lunch meet-ups less and less these past few months. When you did show up, you didn't seem as excited as you used to be. He assumed it was normal for most students at one point or another. School work and the pressure to excel at such a prestigious school were probably just stressing you out. He was more of a glass-half-full kind of guy, so the possibility of it being anything more serious than that rolled right off his back. It was out of the question. He didn’t even want to think about such negativity. 

It wasn’t until you stopped coming altogether that he realized he might have to.

You’d miss lunch, and plans to hang out after school hours, and stopped texting back as much. It deeply saddened him. Food was his way to show he loved you and cherished your friendship, the way he expressed his creativity and feelings to the world. If he couldn’t share it with his closest friend, he didn’t want to share it with anyone. In his mind, he’d already attributed your behavior to stress, but maybe you also just weren’t interested in being his friend anymore? You sounded more solemn than usual on the phone, and even with your tone through texts. He wouldn’t be surprised if you didn’t like him anymore and just wanted to let him down easy. He was a bit much for most people.

After pacing and getting into his own head for hours in the kitchen, he worked up the courage to go to your dorm room and finally have the talk, to confront you directly and ask if he’d done anything to upset you. Sweating bullets outside your door, his fear of confrontation and hatred of negative energy was creeping up on him. With a big gulp, he swallowed before knocking with false confidence. He knew you were in there, he heard your TV through the door and somewhat knew your schedule. This is were you would most certainly be at this time after classes. He called out to you, and when you didn’t answer, he jiggled the door handle, suddenly fearing that maybe the situation was worse than he might’ve once thought. Finding the door unlocked, he gently pushed the door open and crept in.

He finds the room completely dark save for the light of the TV. In the flashing of the screen, he can see the piles of garbage and clothing all over your floor. He scanned the environment anxiously, shocked at the state of your dorm. Then he finds you, sitting up in your bed, blankets covering your legs, silent as the grave, You’re just staring, as if in a trance, completely emotionless. He can see your phone lighting up on the bedside table, notifications buzzing, but you make no move to react.

“(Y/N)?” He can’t believe he’s seeing you like this. You were like a zombie, an empty shell of the person he knew and loved. When you don’t answer, he moves to sit on the side of the bed, concerned. He tiptoes over cautiously, not wanting to trigger any negative response from you. What he sees now, up close to you in the dimly lit room makes his eyes widen in horror.

On your lap, on top of a plastic plate is the cheapest, most unappetizing plate of budget spaghetti he’d ever seen, likely from some cafeteria or corner store. It looked like something a student would keep as a midnight snack in their mini fridge just in case they were starving when everything was closed, a quick fix. That wasn’t the worst part though.

No, the worst most definitely had to be the entire bottle’s worth of pills you’d seemingly emptied on top of the depressing-looking noodles. A plastic fork sat nestled in between the noodles and the pills, as if you were just about to begin eating before he arrived (perhaps in the nick of time).

It’s in that moment he realized exactly what was going on here. This was all so overwhelming to him, but his first priority was saving his best friend. Again, with the intention not to trigger anything, to not overstimulate or make anything worse in mind, he moves slowly, constantly checking your expression or any change or sign of stress. His shaking hands take the plate in their grasp, and he pulls it back and safely away from you. His voice cracks when he finally speaks again.

“H-hey! (Y/N), y-ya know… food is love… food is…” he struggles for the right words, so unsure of his ability to be what you need right now, “... food is beauty, and a very, very good thing! Food is meant to heal and nourish your body, never hurt it!” He smiles weakly, taking one of your limp hands in his own, and you feel his warmth transfer over, flooding into you. “We don’t have to talk right now, but I’m gonna stay, o-okay? I’m gonna stay right here.”

Kazuichi Souda

Kazuichi was stressing. He’d never felt this much in a bind in his entire life. When it came to his own negative feelings and problems, he usually felt fine expressing himself, often yelling or crying if he needed to, letting someone know they’d upset him. When it came to comforting others, it always felt so damn awkward, and it was a feeling he’d like to avoid if he could. He was just no good at it. He was torn now, as it was his own best friend who needed his emotional support, and he’d run away like a selfish coward, hidden from the stress of the situation. He was afraid, and now the situation seemed to be boiling over, to the point of no return.

You were obviously going though something, and could tell. He was closer to you than anyone. He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t noticed a definite decline in your energy, the amount of sleep you were getting, and general happiness lately. He’d also be lying if he said he wasn’t avoiding a direct conversation about it. He didn’t even know what to say, or if his advice would help. He was no professional, and growing up with a dad that abused him verbally and sometimes even physically, he’d learned to cope with trauma and depressive episodes in his own ways. There were times that he’d have to push back his own feelings to move on when his dad was involved, so how could someone like him help others?

Something that always helped him feel a bit better about himself was altering his outward appearance to satisfy his own sense of self expression and aesthetic. He’d once advised that you get a piercing, dye and cut your hair, buy some new clothes when you were in a particularly dismal mood. You didn’t seem to go for it. In fact, he later felt like a dick for even suggesting it, like maybe now you thought he wasn’t taking you seriously. You’d made an excuse to go back to your dorm almost immediately after the conversation.

He’d felt like an asshole for being a little more distant with you the past few days, but he just felt like a colossal loser for not being able to help one of the most important people in his life. It was overwhelming. What if you wanted to be alone right now? What if him trying to help ended up making it worse? Pacing his mess of a room, he ran his hands through his pink hair, clawing over his scalp in stress. He felt overstimulated, mind bouncing dozens of thoughts around at once.

He stopped, taking a deep breath to try and narrow these thoughts down and make an actual, reasonable plan. At the end of the day, the most important thing was the well-being of his friend. The end goal had to be to get you help or help you himself so that your friendship could get back on track to the normal, happy every day routine that you both loved. The end goal was for sure in his mind: to see his friend smile again and see a familiar glow of happiness radiate off of them. To exorcise this depression permanently, or to at least take the first steps in that direction. If he had to put aside his own feelings of embarrassment and anxiety to achieve that… well, he felt like that goal was worth almost any level of uncomfortableness.

He put his foot down, now resigned to just do what he’d wanted to do deep down for days. You would do the same for him if the situation were reversed, and he knew that. From his room on the opposite side of the dormitory wing, he made his way down the long hall until he reached your own dorm room. You were so very close, but felt so far away when he shut you out for the comfort of his own room. Now he was here, ready to finally give his all to help you like he should’ve the whole time. Even if you just needed a shoulder to cry on or someone to vent to, he wanted to pull through and be there for you until he could guide you through the next steps.

Silent before your door, he was about to knock when he picked up a sound from the other side. He recognized your voice instantly, and you were crying, weeping quite loudly inside your room. This triggers something in him, like a need to protect you, like hearing you in pain hurts him as well. Without thinking, he grabbed the door handle and threw the door open. It’s unlocked, carelessly as if you were just coming in from class and thought of nothing else but your current goal, one-track mind not even bothering to lock your door for safety or privacy. Your school bag and books are thrown haphazardly on the ground and he looks for you, following the source of the cries to the small side bathroom that every dorm room contained.

He nearly lets out a shrill scream of shock when he sees you standing in front of your bathroom mirror, holding a little silver razor blade up to your wrist. It looked like you were building up the courage, so ensnared by your own miserable thoughts that you didn’t even notice him until he was already leaping forward and yelling out your name. You looked up, wide eyes streaked with tears and puffy with redness.

“Kazuichi?!” Your voice is hoarse from crying and you feel so taken aback by his sudden appearance, so small and vulnerable. You felt foolish, caught in this compromising situation, embarrassed that someone you cared about so deeply would ever see you in this state. He didn’t seem to care about that though, only concerned with getting you back down to a safe mental state in this moment. He eyed you, then the razor blade in your hand.

“Please… please don’t do it. Please,” he begs you, one calloused hand reaching out toward you, palm outstretched. “I can’t let you go there. Please, don’t make me watch you do this because I refuse to leave, so…” His voice shook, and he inched closer, hand still ready for you to make the next move. Exhuasted, humiliated, and ready to submit to his help, you concede. You place the razor safey flat-side down into his palm, and he quickly discards it into the trash bin behind him, itching to get it out of his hands expeditiously. With that out of the way, he grabs you around the shoulders, pulling you into a hug that’s almost suffocating. He crushes you against his chest, and feels you shaking, breathing slowly evening out in his embrace. You let your eyes fluttered closed, let him help you stabilize.

“I am… so sorry for not taking this as serious as I should’ve. I never thought it would get this bad!” You could hear him crying. Kazuichi was never one to be afraid to shed tears when he was overwhelmed. You liked that sensitive side of him. “I’m sorry from running from your issues. I’m here now… I’m here.”

Byakuya Twogami

You were fascinated by the self-appointed leader of your little group. Ever since the killing game began, people kind of looked to him for guidance because he had a sense of authority and true confidence in his voice. There was a commanding tone and conviction to his words that you assumed was native to one of his status.

You were interested in his family business and the very different world of the elites like him in general, as you’d made it to Hope’s Peak on pure talent alone and not due to any nepotism or financial status. Attending the academy was the first chance you really had to get out of your old neighborhood and see how other people lived. It had been a miracle that you’d been scouted. The Togami family was just so vastly different from yours in every way. You wanted to know how it all worked. You often found yourself following him around and asking him questions that he probably found tedious and trivial. They were questions that he was probably asked in every interview, or with every new friend who tried to cozy up to him for his money and influence, but those were never your intentions. What began as curiosity for his different way of life turned into you simply enjoying getting to know him. He could even have a sense of humor on occasion, even if he didn’t see it that way.

Eventually, he would start to delegate you to little tasks to help him out, as if you were one of his retainers. In his mind you were competent and he respected you enough to trust you with the work. Overthinking, you took it as him just trying to get you out of his hair. You felt kind of bummed out, like you were probably getting on his nerves and bothering him. His style of communication was so different from your own that you would’ve never guessed that him getting rid of you and spending less time with you could mean he respected you, even if there was a task involved taht required you to move on your own. What made it worse was that you spent so much time with him that you really hadn’t gotten to know any of your other classmates. You weren’t close with any of them so it felt awkward to be walking around without Togami by your side. Interacting with a bunch of people who had already seemed to sort out their friendships might be a bit awkward and uncomfortable. Fortunately, there were a lot of extroverts in this group that would probably pull you in and make you feel right at home as soon as you reached out even mildly.

~

You couldn’t believe what you were hearing right now. Everyone had agreed that the killing game was absolute nonsense, because none of you would ever stoop so low as to actually kill someone for any reason. Yet here you were eavesdropping on a concerning conversation between the seemingly harmless Nagito and the careless Teruteru. Nagito was planning to start up the killing game at the party you all were planning tonight and it didn’t seem like anything would stop him. You could hear the fear in Teruteru’s voice as he tried to speak sense into the much taller, lanky boy. Nagito already had a weapon hidden under a dining table, had sent threatening notes out, left little hints to put his plan into motion. It sounded completely and utterly insane!

You were there in the first place because Togami asked you earlier that day to scope out the party building stealthily and quietly. He wanted someone he trusted to gather any dangerous instruments or note any faults in the architecture that could cause an injury or allow secret entry. Nagito and Teruteru were there cleaning and setting up the food and decorations for the class party later that night, but Byakuya seemed suspicious of the both of them when he spoke on it. It wasn’t hard for you to see why now, when not too long after sneaking into the building, you happened upon this conversation. You had to tell someone, of course, but who would believe you except maybe Togami himself? Nagito and Teruteru could always deny it and it would be your word over theirs. The class might believe you over Teruteru, but Nagito seemed really well liked within the group.

When you relayed Nagito’s plans to Togami later, it felt like he already knew somehow, like you only just confirmed his feelings. You didn’t know how he knew, but he seemed to be taking it seriously. He asked that you share this info with no one else, and told you not to worry as he had it all under control.

~

How could you not worry about it? Now, at the actual the party you’re unable to relax, on edge even in the presence of amazing food and happy people. You’re nearly shaking with worry, trying to psych yourself into believing that Nagito would change his mind. He was bluffing… he’d chicken out. Everything would be okay. Togami would handle it! Maybe he talked to Nagtio on the side before the party, maybe that natural intimidating aura of his convinced Nagito to let go of his nefarious plans. Teruteru sure seemed to be perky and proud of his food spread tonight, so surely the whole murder plan was off the table. Why would he be so calm otherwise, when he was terrified earlier?

When the lights abruptly went out, everything changed. You panicked, and everything seemed to move in slow motion. Your heart rate spiraled out of control, adrenaline kicking into high gear. You followed your instincts to dash over to the back table, the one Nagito was standing next to just before the lights went out. You had to get to that weapon before him, You wouldn’t be able to live with the guilt of knowing you could’ve prevented this by warning the entire group if Nagito succeeded in killing someone. You knew this plan was in the works. You trusted Togami to stop it before now and here it was: the moment of truth. You had to act. You weren’t close with any of these people, but they all seemed to already care for each other, if even just a little bit. It was better if you died here over anybody else. It had to be your duty after the information you chose to withhold from them. It wouldn’t have been fair.

As you were about to dive under the table in the dark, you feel a strong grip on your arm. You are lifted and thrusted backwards and away from the table. You yell out, fearing an altercation with Nagito and preparing for a fight, but as you fall back onto your butt with a thud a few feet from the table, all physical contact ceases. There’s a commotion, and you scramble backwards in the dark. There’s confusion and chaos, and then the lights turn back on.

~

You wouldn’t know until you were gathering evidence for very the first class trial later that night, that Togami had taken your place under that table. The arm that pushed you back had been his. While you couldn’t see him, he used night vision goggles to see you and died in your place. You couldn’t help but think that maybe if you trusted him when he said to trust him, let him handle it and didn’t get in the way of the table, he would’ve had a second or two more to think and react… and maybe he wouldn’t be dead. It could’ve been you, and you would be eternally grateful for his sacrifice, even if he didn’t plan for it that night,

You vowed to spend whatever time left you had on this miserable island avenging him by and honoring his memory while you all worked together to stop Monokuma.

[darklydeliciousdesires]

Immortal Beloved - Chapter Ten.

Thank you very much to all of you still keeping up with this :)

Previous chapters - Prologue One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight Nine

Tag list - In the comments

Words - 3,556

Warnings - 18+ only. Adult themes + vampire content throughout. Minors DNI!

“She’s gonna be a spoilt princess. I could fucking kill Bryn, if she weren’t dead already.” 

The way John viewed the scene before them so adoringly did not match his lightly delivered vexation, him and Polly standing and watching the heartwarming sight of Katie being led up and down the driveway aboard her new pony, Bryn's Christmas gift to her. “We agreed on a fucking rocking horse, and she goes and buys a bloody Welsh Section C!”  

“They’re a good pony for a child to begin on, so I’m told,” Tommy spoke as he joined them, a mischievous smile playing his lips as John turned with narrowed eyes. 

“You were in cahoots with her, weren’t ya?”  

He sniffed, lifting his chin. “Heels down, Katie! That’s it!”  

“Don’t fucking avoid the question, Tom!” 

His laugh rumbled, watching as Bryn circled them around at the top of the drive and ran back up again, the little dun coloured pony trotting along neatly as her new owner squealed and giggled with delight from the saddle. “Might’ve lent a hand in the purchase.”  

John continued to mutter, chewing on his toothpick as Polly gave him a shove with her elbow. “Oh, come on, John. Like you didn’t buy out half of Rackham’s toy department for her as it was! A pony isn’t that different to some of those fancy rocking horses they had there, too. Have you seen the price some of them fetch? Holy shit.” 

“Yeah, but a real horse ain’t got its hooves nailed to a bit of wood, has it? A real horse eats a fuckload of hay and needs shiny bits of expensive metal nailing to its feet, and everything else that comes with ‘em! Bloody money pits, they are.” 

“John?” Tommy questioned, placing his hand onto his shoulder, his brother still viewing him from under a somewhat furrowed brow. “You aren’t exactly short of a bob or two now, are you? Stop being a misery and look how happy your little girl is. My stable lads will look after the pony, and Katie can come up here whenever she likes to ride him.”  

“Yeah, and that’s all gonna be on me, ain’t it, since fanny Anne over there is conveniently asleep all fucking day!” His continued pissed off splutters had his aunt and brother in soft fits, fanny Anne herself overhearing his protests.  

“Tommy is right, John,” Bryn called, halting her jog as she and Katie arrived back with them. “Stop being a misery.” Lifting Katie from the pony, she placed the tot down, watching her run back into the house as one of the stable boys led her favourite Christmas present back to the stables. John shook his head, pulling her close as the others entered the house. 

“For that, you’ll go over my fucking knee, Brynhild.” 

“Oooh,” she purred, stroking his cheek with her fingernail. “Is that a promise?” 

His hand found the round of her bum, smacking it hard several times. “Get in the fucking house.” 

Christmas Day dinner was always eaten on the evening in the Shelby household, the day itself preceded by gift giving and light snacks, plenty of port and whiskey, and a jolly good time had by all. John had felt a little bit out of sorts for not having Bryn by his side until 5pm when the sun had finally melted into the wintery horizon, Katie too making her displeasure known. 

It had been tricky, deciding what to tell the child in order to explain why she only ever saw Bryn in the evenings, John deciding simplicity was the best. “Sunlight makes her poorly, pige, so that’s why we only see Bryn at nighttime.” She’d taken her father’s word as easily as he’d delivered it, luckily. He’d reveal the truth to her when she was old enough to understand what it meant to be a vampire, feeling that four years old was much too young to truly grasp the concept.  

Before the merriment could continue, the matter of the spy locked up in the butler’s pantry had to be dealt with, Bryn, John and Polly going down to see to it themselves while everyone else assembled in the lounge. John picked up the telephone where Bryn had left it the previous night before descending the steps, the three of them waiting until the coast was clear of serving staff who were bustling around.  

“Good evening, young lady,” Bryn spoke as they entered, finding a very disgruntled looking Helen on the opposing side of the door. “I believe you have a telephone call to make, hmm?” 

The girl wanted nothing more than to scream for help, cry out the injustice done to her, but she knew no ears within the household that could hear would come to her aid. She was alone, discovered as a spy, with thirty pounds to show for her trouble. Taking the receiver she was handed, she made the call, uttering the lie she had been fed while the vampire who had instructed her stared unflinchingly, taking the phone away again once she was done.  

“Now I shall escort you upstairs to pack your belongings, as Mr. Shelby has directed me to escort you from the property as swiftly as possible,” she spoke, while John untied her bindings one by one, Polly observing from the corner.  

Shoving Helen in Bryn’s direction, he picked up the rope, beginning to coil it in his strong hands, watching the way his vampire lover viewed him do so with keen interest. “Don’t think I’ll put all of this back where I found it.”  

Bryn returned the wink he gave her before escorting Helen out, leaving him and Polly behind in the pantry, the latter letting out a long breath before picking up a bottle of gin and pulling the cork out.  

“Well, that’s that almost done with.” Holding the bottle to her lips, she downed a mouthful, her face pinching as she swallowed. “Fuck, I don’t know how people can drink this shit! Tastes like perfume.” 

Going into his pocket, John retrieved his hip flask, unscrewing the cap and taking a long glug of the whiskey within, passing it to his aunt. “Me neither.” Taking the flask back, he swigged from it again, sighing as he screwed his eyes tightly shut. “We can’t trust no one. I ain’t even sure that she’s the only one who’s been sent by ‘em. Surely Edward wouldn’t be so fucking stupid as to only send one down here, eh?” 

“One’s all it takes, John. Besides, if it was anybody else in the house with her, reason dictates they likely would have freed her and ran for it while we were all sleeping, regardless of Bryn’s little blood link insurance policy,” Polly advised, lighting up a cigarette. “You’re right, though. This is the time we circle the wagons. Any new people sniffing around should be treated even more suspiciously than usual. I’m going to have a word with Bryn, too. I’ve been thinking. Those tattoos of hers, lovely that they are, are a fucking giveaway. She needs to extend her makeup down from her face and neck, or not show off her tits quite as much.” 

“Shame,” John sniffed, lighting himself a cigar, “they’re fucking cracking tits.” 

She rolled her eyes, opening the door. “Come on, you bloody letch. Let’s see to her getting the fuck off the property.” They headed back up the stairs, hovering by the door only a short time before Bryn and Helen joined them, the latter clutching her small bag in a tight grip. The outside air was crisp, a smattering of snow still present on the ground as she was marched away from the homestead and up the driveway. 

“How am I to get away from here now? Where do I stay?” 

Polly laughed a little bitterly, a final drag taken on her cigarette before she flicked it away. “Should have thought of that before, shouldn’t you, girl?” 

“Could I please have a car take me into town?” 

It was Bryn who laughed this time, her hand reaching out to cup at the back of her neck. “There is no point, Helen. You shan’t be leaving the property.” With a snap, her fangs bared, gleaming white through the darkness. “Ever.”  

Like lightning, her mouth clamped onto her neck, her hand muffling Helen’s scream as she began to drain her. Polly’s eyes rounded in horror, John a little taken aback, but more accepting of the outcome. Bryn wasn’t stupid; he had wondered if she truly intended to let the Rasmussen spy leave with her life intact.  

As soon as she felt her heartbeat still, her body was dropped onto the drive, Bryn licking her lips before receding her fangs once more.  

“Oh, Polly,” she sighed, placing a hand upon her hip as she gestured to the corpse. “Surely, you did not forget what I am beneath the charming woman you are coming to know, hmm? You might not have grounds to fear me, but anybody who crosses me does.” 

“If I did, Brynhild, you’ve certainly reminded me. Holy shit,” she spoke, lighting herself another cigarette.  

“I couldn’t risk her leaving here with only her word that she would say nothing. If someone’s word can be bought, then it is not to be trusted.” Looking down at the corpse, she felt not an ounce of anything, the coldness in her vampiric nature not stirred at all. “She served her purpose; did the job she was paid for. Now, she can do no more.” 

“I suppose Tommy gave you his blessing?”  

Not much got past Polly. “Indeed, he did. Now, can one of you tell me where I might find a shovel?”  

“Round by the stables, next to where they keep the saddles an’ all that.” John told her, Bryn disappearing and reappearing in a flash. Polly headed back to the house, John watching as Bryn struck into the frozen ground, the soil crumbling like sand under the power she wielded the shovel with. Usually, it would have taken two grown men about an hour to dig through frozen soil. For Bryn, she had dug out a deep pit in just over five minutes.  

“Okay,” she spoke, pulling the thirty pounds she had given to Helen the previous evening from her apron, looking down at the corpse with distaste. “Put her in.”  

John rolled the cadaver until it fell from the edge and into the deep pit, thinking what a good job Bryn had done. It was at least eight feet deep. With their inconvenience buried, Bryn also dragging various debris over the unmarked grave so that the plot did not stand out, they headed back to the house arm in arm to join the festivities as if nothing had ever happened.  

Once there, they sat down at the long table with the rest of the family, enjoying the warmth from the fire as they ate dinner, Arthur being Arthur and proposing a very drunken toast that mostly consisted of cussing and hiccupping. Once the children had gone to bed, the later evening saw the arrival of a few close friends, Johnny Dogs among them, John not able to immediately offer an introduction as Bryn had excused herself to tuck Katie in.  

“So, you’re still alive, John? Not come to anything bad on those teeth now, eh?” he joked, John being able to detect the slight trepidation in his demeanour he was attempting to mask with humour.  

“Nah, nothing bad,” he replied, grinning to himself at the memory of just how erotic it was, to be bitten by a vampire. It never failed to do something to him that no human woman could ever compare with. It was fair to say, in fact, that the living had been ruined for John now he’d had a taste of what immortal felt like to fuck.  

Johnny laughed, waving a finger. “Oh, now would you look at that grin on the boy? That’s a grin of a... Jesus fucking wept!” His words were halted by the fact that in the space it took him to blink, John suddenly wasn’t standing alone beside the fire, an elegant looking woman in a dark green beaded dress appearing at his side. “Oh... oh so you’re the shadow walker girl, are ya? Oh, I see now, yes... yes. Um. Yes.”  

Johnny’s usual bravado becoming dented further with every syllable uttered had John snort laughing into his whiskey glass, the gypsy continuing. “Oh now, you understand me apprehension here? There’s a lotta bad blood between my folk and yours, there is?”  

“Not from my personal perspective, Johnny,” she spoke, halting his hand where he rapidly pointed between himself and her, stroking the back of it as she transmitted her energy onto him, calming his nerves. “It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance. My name is Brynhild.” 

“You’re a Scandinavian girl, are ya? Oh, you must be with a name like that, eh?” 

“I am Norwegian, yes,” she confirmed, Johnny still taking a time to calm as his muscles stiffened. Bless his heart, though. He was trying his hardest.  

“Oh well that’s grand, so? I bet you get some fucking terrible winters all the way up there?”  

Bryn gave John a gentle shove as he shook with silent laughter. “We do, yes.” 

“Now tell me, love. You’re not hungry, are ya? Because I know you shadow walkers like the gypsy blood? I don’t want to be getting bitten, so, so if you could keep them teeth away, I’d be thanking you!”  

That was the moment John erupted completely, Bryn not able to bite back her smile. Oh, he was such a card. “Trust me, Johnny. My preferred blood source is standing right next to me.”  

His eyebrows almost vanished off his forehead entirely. “Now there’s a thing?” His eyes darted between them uncomfortably for a few moments. “Well, if that’s what tickles your fancy, John. And, and why not, if you like it? I mean I’m not making aspersions or nothing! If it floats your boat, and um, yours too, Brynhild. I’ll erm, I’ll go and say hello to Tommy now.”  

“Fucking hell!” he wheezed, him and Bryn both in mild hysterics as Johnny shot across the room, calling out to Tommy. “I ain’t ever seen a fella work so hard not to die of fright in all me life!” 

“I’m surprised he didn’t begin to glisten beneath his eyes with the effort, the poor man,” Bryn chuckled, composing herself. “I am sure once he’s used to me, he might calm down a little bit.”  

“I kind of hope he doesn’t, because I’ve never seen Dogs so flustered before and fuck, it’s gonna entertain me for ages, that!” he laughed, pulling Bryn close and kissing her cheek. The gathering lasted into the small hours, John and Bryn the first to depart to their room, Bryn flicking her hand in the direction of the fireplace as soon as they entered. The flames roared into life, the hearth sparkling amber as heat began to sweep through the chill of the room.  

“Right, now you’re probably wondering why it is you ain’t had your Christmas present from me yet,” John began, taking her hands and bringing them to his mouth, kissing her cool fingers as he smiled adoringly at her.  

She began to nod, her grin a little twisted at the corner. “I had thought it to be somewhat lacking, yes, this much is true.”  

His smile grew, while on the inside, his heartbeat began to thrum in frenzy, nerves washing through him. “Well, that’s because I wanted it to be just you and me when I gave it to ya.” Taking a small box from his pocket, Bryn’s hands flew to her mouth with a gasp as she watched him drop down to one knee before her. “Brynhild, I know it hasn’t been long, but you mean more to me than any other woman ever has or will. I love you, sweetheart. Will you marry me?”  

Her eyes filled with tears, nodding rapidly. “Yes! Oh, my various gods above, a thousand times yes!” 

“Good,” he hummed, winking at her as he flipped the box open. “You can have this now.” 

There within sat on a little cushion indent, was the most beautiful ring she had ever seen. It was an emerald cut diamond, flanked by an art deco arrangement of smaller ones that all extended around onto the platinum band it was set upon. “It’s engraved an’ all.” 

Taking the ring from the box as he stood, she studied the inside of the band, gasping softly. 

My immortal beloved 

“Oh, John!” Her tears fell like crimson rain as he slid it onto her finger, taking his pocket square so she could dab them away, placing a kiss upon the tip of her nose.  

“Don’t you ever say I can’t be romantic.”  

“I never, ever would, my love,” she told him, falling into kisses that felt never ending as they began to strip one another of their clothes.  

“I love you,” he breathed, moving her hair from her neck. “I love you.” His lips met the side of her throat, hands cupping her waist to lift her. “I love you.” Clasping her tightly to him, he carried her to the bed, lying her down, thinking how he’d never seen a woman look at him in the way she was in that moment, his mouth falling to hers once more.  

His bee stung lips closed in a suck upon the pebbled peak of her nipple, fingers trailing through the petals of her cunt, pushing inside her, slick wet awaiting his touch. The rotation he used had her hips bucking against his hand, Bryn clasping his face and kissing him with filthy indulgence. Her groan poured out rich and rumbling, especially when his thumb moved to rub sparks at her clit.  

She was virtually dizzy with pleasure when he finally replaced his fingers with something much thicker, his mouth sucking lilac welts against her neck. His body became flecked with the goose pimples from the sensual glide of her nails down his back, charging across his freckled skin like a herd of wild horses. His arm trailed down her body, hooking beneath her leg and levering it forward until it touched her chest, his hand grasping her throat as he pinned her to the bed.  

The way it allowed his cock to sink in deeper had her wailing, teeth nibbling along her jaw, tongue following the patterns of the tattoos that swirled across her chest. His girth dragged at her, making her wetter around him, John utterly saturated with the gloss of her arousal as his hips began to drive like a piston.  

“Fuck.” He gritted, teeth grazing her throat, the wild heat rising between them both, his mouth swallowing down each of her little cries as their lips met, whispering his love tenderly. It was a heavenly juxtapose to how brutally he began to fuck her.   

Their kisses became magmatic, his forehead pressing to hers as he stared unflinchingly into the crystal blue of her eyes, until the fluttering of her cunt had him closing his eyes tightly, burying his mouth at her neck as he groaned almost helplessly.   

He lost any tentative threads of control, his thrusts staccato, cock making constellations burst through the hug of her molten walls, Bryn’s nails digging into his shoulders as she clung to him, rolling her hips up to meet each barbarously delivered thrust. The lightning jumped from strike point to strike point as the storm swelled and crashed, her entire body alight as he pulsed jets of hot cum within her.   

Utterly spent, breathless and all that was electrifying ebbing away, the sparks still gently fizzed through them as they stroked one another, sharing tender kisses. Everything was warm, serene and lazy, words of love whispered, adoration abounding. He fell asleep still inside of her that night, Bryn enjoying his warmth before gently moving him beneath the covers, getting up to go and sit upon the wide windowsill. 

Watching the diamonds sparkle upon her finger, she looked out into the pale blue of the moonlight, her eyes glancing back to where John slept. She knew that running was no longer an option, and it should never have been. An existence exiled from her offspring, standing behind those of power for protection, driven by her fear of being captured again was not who she was.  

Closing her eyes, her memories took her back over a thousand years, back to the siege upon Mercia, Bryn stood before a heathen army of a hundred Vikings, her heathen army. She heard her own bellowing war cry, their advancement descending the great hill in which they had waited atop, running into the valley to meet the oncoming men, while from the east and west, the remaining two hundred of her army had encircled the Mercian’s entirely.  

Wiping out those who stood in her way was in her blood. She had lived and breathed it in her human life, after all. Now, she had to find her way back to it in order to secure her future. Now was no longer the time for hiding. Now was the time to remember who she was.  

Now was the time for war.  

[eclecticqueennerd]

Confessions

Part 9- Finale

*abortion, kidnapping, mentions of rape, language, extreme violence*

(At the end is a choose your own adventure story! I encourage you to read all three)

You find yourself at Vought this time in a new location. There was a copper couch near a giant window overlooking the city, an American flag adorned on the wall, old timey paintings that look like they date back a couple hundred years scattered along the wall. This must be Homelanders penthouse. You look at the man before you, so cock sure and full of himself.

“Look at you! You didn’t vomit this time.”

“Where’s Grace?”

“Oh, I wouldn’t worry about her, I’d worry about yourself. Take a seat.” You didn’t obey his order and stood still. “TAKE A FUCKING SEAT!” Homelander points to the sectional, his eyes glowing softly. You follow his command.

“There, was that so hard?”

“So, we’re back on this bullshit huh? You still want a little supe baby?”

“Like I said all those months ago, Butcher took something away from me, now I’m taking something away from him.”

“What makes you think that I would let a child anywhere near you? What kind of mother do you take me for?” Homelander starts chuckling,

“What makes you think that he’ll need a mother? I never had one and I turned out perfect!” Homelander applying extra emphasis on the word perfect.

“Yeah, perfectly psychotic! I bet the real reason why you’re doing this is because everyone is starting to take you as the asshole you are, and they don’t love you anymore. News flash Homelander, no one will ever love you.” Homelander flew to you and grabbed your jaw firmly,

“I’m doing this because I’m the fucking Homelander, and I can do whatever the FUCK I want!” He lets go of your jaw and inspects you up and down like a predator observing his prey. “You’re not one of us anymore. We can’t have that.” You look away from Homelander, a sharky toothed grin spreading along his face as he flew out of the room. Now was your chance, you leaped from the couch and ran for the door. Turning the doorknob, you were knocked back and your back slid across the floor.

Homelander approached you with a syringe full of what you assumed was Compound-V. While you were struggling to ground yourself, he flipped you over injected the substance into your spine, you screamed. A stinging feeling that slowly graduated into your blood feeling like it was boiling. You twisted and contorted in agony, the last time you were injected they gave you a tranquilizer for the pain, this time there was no such kindness.

“Come with me darling, I’ve got such a romantic night planned for us.” Homelander hoisted you up, draped you over his shoulder and made his way up the spiral staircase to his loft.

“I’ll never be the mother to your children!” You said with every bit of strength you had, pounding on his back. It didn’t work. It was like tapping him on the back.

“Yes, you will.” You let out a shrill laugh.

“I aborted that thing you forced inside of me all those months ago you know. I’ll never be anyone’s mother!” This struck a nerve in Homelander, he pushed you off his shoulder and you fell past the stairs and onto the coffee table below, knocking the wind out of you.

“You what?” Homelander was towering over you in no time. He reached down and now had his hands around your neck. Gasping for air, you clawed at his hands, attempting to peel them away. “You BITCH!” Homelander throws you across the room into the granite countertop in his kitchen and it collapses from your weight. You lay there, crumpled in the rubble. Heavy footsteps approaching,

“You killed my baby?!” Homelander picks you up by your neck again and strangles you. What he didn’t know is before you were in his grasp, you grabbed a chunk of debris on the floor. With the Compound- V now pulsing through your veins, you drive the stoney debris into Homelander’s head. It wasn’t enough to kill him, but it was enough to cause him to drop you and him to stumble backwards. Homelander touches the spot where you hit him, noticing blood on his glove. With a feral yell, Homelander uses his laser eyes on you, which you narrowly escape.

“Hey douchebag.” You turn and see Ben throw a sucker punch to Homelander’s face. Homelander flies backwards and knocks down the dividing wall in his living room. You quickly get up.

“Get out of here doll, I’ve got this.”

“We’ve got this. Go on y/n.” Annie and Kimiko walk into the penthouse and stand next to Ben. You stand in your place. There’s no way that you’re not going to help the three of them take Homelander down.

“Love.” You feel a gentle grasp on your shoulders. You turn hotly on your heels and see Butcher and Hughie standing behind you. “We need to get you outta ‘er.”

“But what about them? They need help.”

“We’ve got a plan. Just trust us.” You follow Butcher and Hughie out of the penthouse and make your way to the elevators. Butcher pressed the button repeatedly.

“You know it’s not going to come here any fast with you pressing the button 10 times.”

“Hughie, shut your fuckin mouth.” The elevator arrives and you hear glass breaking, Annie grunting, punches meeting a solid structure, all coming from the penthouse..

“Love, come on.” You enter the elevator. Pressing the lobby floor button, you feel the elevator start its descent.

“Come on you bastard, go faster.” Then, its as if some sick and twisted deity listened to Butchers silent prayers, there was a loud metallic clank and then, free falling.

The elevator, with the three of you in it, fell many floors. It stopped suddenly and the three of you slammed on the floor of the elevator, mildly disoriented. Butcher got up and popped the trap door open on the roof of the elevator. You used your strength to hoist him up so he can get a better look.

“We’re close to a stop. About 3 feet away.” You pushed Butcher up and helped Hughie follow. You used your strength to pry open the doors and the three of you filtered into the hallway. You hear a scream coming from the elevator shaft and then the elevator fell.

“Annie!” Hughie’s scream echoed in the cold, dark tube.

“Hughie, we gotta stick to the plan. Annie will be alright.” With some more coaxing, you were able to get Hughie to follow the two of you, looking for a stairwell. You start to feel uneasy on this level… and for good reason. It’s the lab. This is where you were brought the first time Homelander kidnapped you. It looks basically the same, save for some neon green tubes which housed the Temp-V. You look at Butcher and he appears like a man jonesing for his next fix. You tug on his sleeve,

“Come on, we need to leave.” Butcher continued to stare at the substances on the counter.

“Billy, you-” before you could finish your sentence, Homelander burst through the ceiling and grabbed Butcher, knocking Hughie to the floor unconscious.

“NO!” You shriek. You grabbed Homelander by his shoulders, but he shrugs you off. Then, one punch, two punch. You hear bones cracking in Butchers face. Watching in horror as the ‘hero’ in front of you, beat up your boss, your friend, your confidant. Butchers face now quickly bloody and swollen, even after a few hits. This lit a fire in your belly, one you never felt before, you were vibrating with rage. Everything around you became zeroed in on Homelander.

“HEY!” you shout, voice demonic and unrecognizable. Butcher dropped limp to the floor, his face badly beaten, blood oozing from his mouth. Homelander’s focus was now on you. “Leave him alone.”

“Or what?”

“I’m going to kill you.” You pick up a metal stool and threw it at Homelander, he dodges most of it, but the leg grazed his arm and left a substantial gash, the wound rapidly bleeding through his uniform. You stalk towards him, watching his every move as the two of you move around in a circle. Homelander’s lips were pursed together, wheels in his head spinning, then laser eyes. You dodged the attack yet again, ducking behind a counter. Homelander begins to approach you when,

“You don’t get to run away from me that easy.” Ben grabs a fistful of Homelander’s cape and yanks, causing Homelander to lose his balance and fall backwards.

“I used to idolize you growing up! I watched all your movies. I thought that you were the only one that was as strong at me!” Homelander shouts.

“You think you are as strong as me, you wear a fucking cape! You’re just a cheap knockoff!”

“No, I’m better!” Homelander shoots his laser eyes at Ben, but he repels the beams using his shield. Homelander continues to use his laser beams, you notice Ben’s strength is waning.

“You were the old, broken version. I am-AHH!” Homelander lets out a blood curdling scream. While he was distracted, you grabbed large pieces of broken glass and ran to the cunt and jammed it into his eyes from behind. No more laser eyes. You picked Homelander up by the collar as he continued screaming and punched as hard as you could, he went flying back though 3 separate lab rooms. Meeting him where he landed, you knelt over his chest. Homelander attempted to push you off him, but between the pain in his eyes and the punch you just delt him, he was confused.

“This is for all the poor saps you fucked up over the years!” One punch and cracking filled the lab room. “This is for RAPING ME and TURNING ME INTO A GODDAMN SUPE!” Another crack. You leaned in closer and whispered, “And this? This is for Lenny.” The last punch you delivered wasn’t inflicted on his face but was directed through the left side of his chest. Homelander let out a garbled cry as you removed your hand, ripping out his heart.

When you saw Homelander, lifeless on the ground, your rage dissipated, and you began to shake from exertion. Using Homelander’s suit to wipe his blood off your hands, you unsteadily got up on your feet. You hear a commotion coming from behind you.

You choose.....

Butcher Soldier Boy Y/N

@butchers-girl @deans-spinster-witch @xmariakx @my-obsession-spn

[sylkiddsey]

Say my name and everything just stops

Small scrap sections from a longer work that will never be finished. It acknowledges the shift from “Casey” to “Matt”

1. Late season 6:

It’s kind of like Matt’s engaged in some sort of really serious game of hide and seek, but one person is not really hiding, and the other is somewhat seeking, but also not really.

His marriage has become this game of avoidance where they just keep passing each other. They pass in the halls of the firehouse. They pass in their own home, from room to room. Even in a confined car, it feels like they’re just passing.

He and Gabby are so off kilter. Everything feels unbalanced and it’s driving him crazy. This isn’t the marriage he envisioned, and he doesn’t know how to go back.

He’s well aware they’ve always had problems. They’ve never been perfect, but he had been able to fix it. Usually, that involved him complying and going along with his very independent wife, but he’d done it.

This time, he can’t comply so they’re stuck in this holding pattern while he waits (and also avoids her) for her to do the compromising.

He can’t go along with her plan to have a child, basically without him. She pretty much implied she was going to get pregnant with or without his help which stung. He can’t give her a baby if it means having to raise their child without his wife. That guilt will kill him, so he refuses.

His refusal didn’t kill her plan. Like always, Gabby Dawson found a way around and wants a baby…wants to endure a risky pregnancy and possibly carry some other guy’s child if he won’t do it.

His own wife won’t budge and he’s not going the extra mile to solve this, so they are just passing by.

When he arrives home to the condo, he freezes in his doorway. He was expecting his wife, probably perched on a stool ready to pick another battle. He’s ready for it, but it’s not Gabby in his kitchen.

Brett’s standing at his island, wearing a faded apron he vaguely remembers was gifted to Gabby as a wedding present, mixing bowl and a big wooden spoon in hand.

Her hair is piled up on her head, chocolate smeared on the corner of her mouth, and he assumes Antonio fucked her over again. She’s probably eating her feelings and drinking wine with her best friend, but that’s not the case.

She looks up from her chocolate concoction, blue eyes widening like a cartoon. “Matt, hi. Sorry, I didn’t think you’d be home so soon.”

He stops dead in his tracks, but not because Brett has apparently broken into his home. He pauses because she called him Matt which she doesn’t do.

It’s not like he has a problem with it, but pretty much everyone at 51 calls him Casey. It’s just become this thing so when Sylvie Brett says it so casually, in his damn kitchen while his marriage crumbles somewhere else…it strikes him.

He’s not even sure she’s ever called him his name before. She might’ve in the past, but it never registered.

He’s only really Matt to his wife and his sister. Although, his wife does use his last name when she’s pissed (which has been happening often).

She finishes swirling the brown batter in one of the big glass bowls Gabby chose. “I know I shouldn’t have used my emergency key, but I wanted to make Gabby her favorite brownies just to…I don’t know, cheer her up. I should’ve asked first.”

He shakes his head, sets his keys on the hook and adverts his gaze because he’s pretty sure he makes her nervous. Brett can’t see him as anybody other than 51’s Captain which he gets. He just doesn’t want her to think he’s so uptight he’d dress her down for being a great friend.

“No, it’s fine. I’m just passing through anyway,” he explains. “I’ll be out of your hair in like ten minutes.”

“It’s your place,” Brett replies. “If someone should leave it should be me.”

He figures Gabby would rather have her friend here instead of him anyway.

“Seriously, I’m heading out the door anyway. Stay. Finish the brownies.”

She smiles a little, sweeping a loose strand of long blonde hair away from her face. “Thanks, Casey.”

Casey.

Everything shifts right back to normal where he’s just Casey, Brett’s just Brett. He’s in his home. The one he shares with someone who shares practically nothing with him and Brett’s doing what she does best; being good to her people.

It’s one thing he has always appreciated about the paramedic. She’s good. She’s good to her patients. She’s good to 51. She’s extraordinarily good to his wife.

He passes her by, ready to change from his construction job and head to Molly’s. He stops in the doorway, observing a flustered Brett as she tries to perfect the homemade frosting. She tastes it with her finger and groans when it’s not good enough.

He knows from Gabby that she’s still a little heartbroken over Antonio and a bit raw from certain ambo calls, yet she’s here…supporting Gabby with sugar and chocolate.

“Brett.”

She startles again, almost as if she’s afraid he’s changed his mind and is mad she’s here. “Uh, yeah?”

“You’re a good friend. She’s lucky to have you,” he says.

Her blue eyes look a little misty in his kitchen lighting. “She’s lucky to have you too.”

He doesn’t think his own wife believes that, but he’s grateful for the words anyway.

The oven timer dings behind her, and she struggles to pull out batch one of her brownie mission. He contemplates offering to help, but his life is currently burning to the ground, so he doesn’t have time to salvage some brownies.

Some things are better left unsalvageable anyway.

2. Early season 7:

He’s on his third or fourth beer at Molly’s. He knows drinking won’t numb the fact he wasn’t good enough for his wife, but it does help a little.

The stool next to his squeaks obnoxiously loud and he hears a quiet gasp. Pink painted nails clamp on the counter and Brett has nearly fallen off the stool.

He wants to laugh, but she looks partially embarrassed…or maybe more ashamed

“I’m sorry, Casey.”

He raises an eyebrow, dumbfounded. She has nothing to apologize for. The last shift had gone well, and he doesn’t even remember scolding her for anything. Hell, he’s not even sure he talked to her at all at the station.

“Sorry?”

“I shouldn’t have blamed you for Gabby leaving,” she mutters, pulling at the edge of her sweater sleeve.

That’s a conversation they had weeks ago. He’s completely forgotten about it. She had been blindsided and upset which he absolutely understood. God knows he felt all that with her, so he really didn’t think too much about her minor lash out

“Brett…”

“I was just hurt I guess,” she admits. “And if I felt hurt…I can’t imagine how hurt you were. It was selfish and dumb.

Sylvie Brett and selfish don’t fit in the same sentence. She’s too kind even to her own detriment.

Still, it feels good to have someone recognize how hurt he is. Yes, they all care and pity him, but no one acknowledges how much Gabby hurt him. It might not have been intentional but her constant rejection about what he wants and needs fucking hurts.

“Brett, it’s fine,” he replies. “I get it. I do and honestly, she was always going to chase bigger things. She was always going to leave, and I was always going to stay.”

It sums up majority of his relationship. Gabby was always leaving in some way. She’d leave to pursue a new career, leaving him to stay and deal with the fallout. She’d leave to adopt a child and again, he stayed and followed. She was always leaving him and somehow, he just kept staying.

Brett frowns, looking into her glass. He watches her stir the blue-ish margarita with a toothpick umbrella. “Well, for what it’s worth, I’m glad you stayed.”

For the first time in a long time, her words soothe the crippling ache Gabby left behind. It doesn’t completely fix everything, but it feels good to know that he didn’t make the wrong decision by not following her.

At least according to Brett.

“Yeah?”

She nods, a smile passing over her face. Lately he hasn’t seen Brett very happy so it’s good to see a glimmer of their past.

“Honestly, I just can’t imagine what 51 would be like without you, Matt.”

He’s struck by the fact she’s using his name again. It’s odd because he’s been so used to Casey for so long and every once in a while, Brett calls him Matt.

There’s something interesting about the way she says it. The syllables just roll off her (now blue) tongue differently in a way he’s never heard. It feels like two different voices and sounds absolutely nothing like it does on shift, surrounded by firefighters and in between blaring bells.

Wow, maybe he’s had a little too much to drink tonight.

He nudges her arm lightly, thanking her for her kindness. He’s surprised she’s giving it to him of all people, but he appreciates it, nonetheless.

Prior, Brett has always been connected to him through association. She was Gabby’s best friend. She was Gabby’s ambo partner. She was Gabby’s brother’s girlfriend.

She’s never been anything to him, but now with Gabby long gone…he thinks maybe Brett won’t be such a stranger anymore.

“God, do you imagine if you left, and Severide became a captain or something?” She asks through a snort.

He has to admit that’s a funny picture. “You’d all be dead because he was too busy making out with Kidd.”

Brett laughs a little too hard at his pitiful joke. He starts to think she might’ve had a few drinks herself. “Oh you are so right, Casey!”

He’s too caught up in the allure of her contagious laugh to analyze the name shift. He’s heard this laugh way too much from his living room or the common room on shift, but this is the first time he’s really taken by it

Sylvie Brett has a wildly adorable laugh. Who knew?

3. 7x08

He starts to appreciate new things he hasn’t had the chance to while married. For one, he has complete freedom of his own life. Every decision is his. Plus, he has more time to spend with 51 and he surprisingly enjoys fishing with Boden of all people.

However, his newest discovery happens to be drunk Sylvie Brett. Brett’s incredibly charming on any day but mix her with alcohol and she somehow becomes more and more dorky.

He has to say he greatly appreciates drunk Brett because it’s hilarious. She can’t hold her liquor and each sentence come out in mangled fragments, but it’s not annoying. Not at all. He actually quite likes Brett when she drinks.

She’s absolutely drunk after Foster pumped her full of alcohol. He’s had the front row seat to her nose scrunch, big doe eyes and flailing hand which had turned his crappy night around.

He’s not even thinking about Naomi or what it could’ve been if he had pretended to be ready.

He had planned to go home a little early but decided to stick around to observe Brett. She’s very drunk and he’s concerned about how she’s going to get home.

Foster left hours ago. Kidd ditched too, probably to make up and make out with Severide. He expected Cruz would take her back, but he disappeared with Chloe and hasn’t returned. Even Otis has vanished.

He makes conversation with Hermann and waits for someone to get her home safely.

At some point during the night, he loses track of her just as Hermann closes. He took his eyes off to help the older man move a shipment of beer and now, she’s gone.

Shit. He hopes she’s not inebriated enough to think she can drive. Although, he’s not sure a taxi or ride share is better when she’s this out of it.

Men are assholes.

Matt hurries out the door, hoping to catch her before she disappears in some sketchy car.

Luckily, he doesn’t have to look far because Brett’s sitting on the bottom step, chin in hand and phone clutched in the other.

She tilts her head up, grinning. “Hey, Casey.”

“Hi. What are you doing out here?”

She points her turned off phone in his face. “Waiting for a cab. I’m just a teeny tiny bit drunk.”

Yeah, just a teeny tiny bit…

Again, he doesn’t want her getting in a car like this where someone could easily try something.

“I’ll drive you home,” he offers, reaching for her hand. He pulls her up, braces her stumbling with his chest and holds one hand on her arm to keep her grounded.

“No. No. You should be calling cute reporter,” she slurs, eyelids drooping lower and lower. She pokes his chest with one slender finger. “Go and make your move, Casey. Girls don’t like waiting.”

Naomi is not his concern at the moment. She’s just a girl he casually kinda sorta dated and Brett’s…well, she’s Brett. She’s an essential part of 51 and far more important than some possible girlfriend.

“She’ll be there in the morning. I’m concerned you won’t be if I don’t get you home myself,” he explains. “You’re drunk, Brett and I don’t trust some taxi driver so let’s go.”

She sticks her bottom lip out. “Fine. Fine. Fine. Lead the way, Captain.”

He steers her by the shoulders so she can’t fall flat on her face towards his truck. When he gets the door open, Brett needs a boost into the seat.

He watches one of the best paramedics he knows fumble with a seatbelt for five minutes, amused. Eventually he gives in to her frustration and does it for her.

Super talkative drunk Sylvie seems to have left for the night. As he navigates down the streets of Chicago, she’s quiet and pressed against the passenger window.

He pulls up in front of the place she shares with Otis and Cruz ten minutes later. He turns his truck off, unlocks the door for Sylvie to jump (or probably fall) out. She doesn’t make a move though, and when he looks over, she’s sleeping against her seatbelt.

He should’ve seen this coming. She drank a lot so of course the alcohol would knock her out.

“Brett?” He asks.

She snores a little in response and he can’t help but chuckle. He stays in the driver side for a few more minutes, thinking of the best way to get her inside.

While thinking, he observes her drunken sleep. Her hair is a mess, tangled against the window. She has mascara rings all around her eyes and cheeks and she’s even drooling a little.

He admires her unkept look. He’s always liked how she’s fearlessly herself and just doesn’t care if it’s well received or not.

It’s a very admirable quality.

Her neck is gonna hurt like hell if she stays in that position much longer. He climbs out his truck and goes to her side. He eases the door open, managing to keep her from tipping out with a hand against her head.

“Brett,” he says, shaking her shoulder a little. “Brett, come on. Wake up.”

She’s dead asleep, nestling further into the hand keeping her head from lolling. He can’t stand all night like this with her face in his palm.

Fine. He’ll carry her in. He undoes her seatbelt and when it clicks, she startles.

The sudden panic vanishes the second she realizes it’s him. She smiles sleepily. “Matt.”

Matt. Not Casey. All evening he’s been Casey aside from when she full named him earlier. Now that she’s drunk and tired, he’s Matt again.

He wonders if it’s purely accidental or if she consciously chooses when to change it up.

“How’d you get here so fast?” She asks, looking around the sidewalk.

“You fell asleep,” he explains. “Come on. Let me get you to your apartment. Can you walk?”

She nods and stumbles out of her seat. He braces her fall, laughing at how ridiculously uncoordinated she is after some tequila.

“Hey! Are you laughing at me?”

He helps her inside the apartment building, pointing her in the direction of the elevator.

“I’ve never seen you like this. It’s wildly entertaining.”

“Well, at least I didn’t accept a proposal this time,” she yawns, leaning her head into his shoulder as they wait for the right floor.

“What?” He asks.

She shrugs as the doors slide open. “A green card thing. I was drunk…didn’t marry him. Long story.”

Sounds like it. They make it to her door, Brett halfway asleep on him. He fishes her key out of her purse and then let’s them inside.

“Casey, hi?” Cruz greets from the kitchen. His eyebrows raise when he sees Brett. “Oh man, I completely forgot.”

He knows Cruz was too focused on his new girlfriend to look out for her, but still. She’s his room dog or whatever they call each other. He shouldn’t have left her alone.

“She needs to go to bed,” he explains, doing his best to pass her off to Cruz. She doesn’t want to leave his side for whatever drunken reason so they both have to get her into her bed.

Once she’s buried under a thousand blankets, he turns to Cruz. “Make sure she drinks a lot of water tomorrow because that hangover is gonna be brutal.”

Cruz laughs. “Drunk Brett might be fun, but hungover Brett is not.”

He can imagine. She’ll definitely be miserable tomorrow.

When he goes to leave, Cruz stops him. “Thank Casey.”

“Yep.”

It’s not like he was going to leave her anyway. He’s just glad she’s home safe.

4. Post 8x09

That night he and Gabby hadn’t just passed by but went straight through. They fell right into familiarity and slept together. She was his wife. She knew him better than anyone. Well, he’s starting to think there’s someone else who understands him better, but he’s not gonna go there.

The night is good, but just not as good as he remembered. He expected that cosmic pull (or whatever) but if anything, something is pushing him further and further from what he thought was his future.

There was a disconnect and when he left, it felt like closure. Gabby’s so happy in Puerto Rico. He’s genuinely glad she’s doing so well for herself, even without him. Plus, he’s happy too in Chicago with 51. His future is here.

Gabby leaves the voicemail about how she always has an opening for him, and the bitterness resurfaces. It’s a nice gesture, but it proves how things will only ever progress if he makes the life changes. They can have another night together if he goes to Puerto Rico.

He has no plans to do that.

Someone knocks on his door at a quarter to eleven. His best guess is Severide forgot his key and he and Kidd got in a fight.

They fight and make up a little too much.

He hauls himself off the couch and opens the door. He expects Severide in the door with a permanent frown and a string of curses. What he doesn’t expect is Brett in his doorway, mini dress on and perfectly applied make up.

She looks amazing. He’s always thought Brett was a cute girl. It’s a fact, but he’s starting to think she’s more than just cute. She’s shockingly hot.

“Hi,” she greets.

Did he black out and ask her on a date something? She’s clearly dressed for the occasion. God knows he’s thought about making a move, but he has no memory of doing it.

Even if he somehow lost his mind and did plan a date, he wouldn’t choose such a late time.

He must look as confused as he feels because she chuckles.

“Sorry. I know it’s late.” She looks down at her tight red dress and then back at him. “I had a date. I don’t usually wear this kinda stuff.”

So, someone else asked her out? He doesn’t remember hearing about anyone new. To his knowledge, Ryan was the last.

“You look…fancy,” he compliments. Other more expressive words are on the tip of his tongue, but he settles for fancy. It’s probably best he doesn’t tell her she looks hot in that dress.

“Late dinner. Completely disastrous dessert. Anyway, I’m not here to talk about my failed attempts at romance.”

He’s not sure why he’s relieved the date didn’t go well. He’ll analyze that later.

“Why are you here?”

He’s still confused about the events that have led to her stunning appearance at his place.

“I was at dinner, and I just couldn’t stop thinking about you, Matt,” she says so casually as if that’s not a completely loaded confession.

She can’t stand there in a tight red dress and roll his name off her lips like this and expect nothing. She was thinking about him? She was actively thinking about him when she was with a date?

“You…couldn’t stop thinking about me? “

Her eyes widen and she covers her face. “Oh my god. That came out wrong. I don’t mean…geez, I keep doing this.”

His racing heart slows a little because he misinterpreted her words. He thought this was heading in another direction. He thought he wasn’t crazy thinking something might be happening between them.

She brings her hand back down to her side. “I was worried because I know Gabby left today and I wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

Oh.

“I’m fine,” he dismisses. “Really, Brett.”

She eyes him like she doesn’t believe a word he’s saying. In hindsight, he didn’t sound very convincing.

“I worry no one checks on you,” she continues. “You’re this steady presence at 51 for everyone else and I just couldn’t stomach the thought of you all alone here blaming yourself.”

He leans in his doorway. Now that’s he is closer, he can smell her addictive perfume. It somehow smells like Christmas and fruit.

“Blaming myself?”

She sinks her teeth into her bottom lip. “For not feeling like enough. I can’t pretend to know what went down with Gabby, but I do like to think I know you. I know that she unintentionally hurt you by leaving and now she left again.”

“Brett…”

She edges a little closer and his heart rate quickens again. He’s half convinced she can see his neck pulse thumping from where she’s at.

“If I’m crossing a line here, let me know, but I don’t like the thought of you sitting here thinking you somehow failed,” she rambles.

He swallows, breathing in deep because she’s definitely doing something new to him. She’s not touching or anything, just hovering a few inches and God, he wants to kiss her.

Huh, that’s new.

“You didn’t fail and truthfully, I love me some Gabby, but she was wrong to make you feel like you’re…I don’t know, nothing?”

There’s a lingering question behind that confession. She’s not sure she’s reading his feelings right, but she’s nailing it. Somehow, she’s articulated everything he’s felt better than he could.

“You’re not nothing, Matt. If you ask anyone at 51, if you ask me…you’re pretty much everything there is.”

He’s shell shocked which doesn’t happen often. He’s good at reacting. He’s trained to be ready for anything, but he wasn’t ready for this.

For her.

She’s healing parts of him he didn’t even know were broken with her kindness and consideration. She didn’t have to leave a date to ease his pain, but she did.

She knew he’d need to hear it before he even did.

She’s standing in his door in a strapless dress that pushes up her boobs saying things he’s never heard from anyone. He’s not leering at her, of course, but he’s human. He spares a few glances since she’s so close.

He’s also only been Matt tonight. She hasn’t called him Casey once. Somehow, he’s hearing his first name from her more than ever and he quite appreciates the change.

Matt brings his hand to her bare arm, brushing his palm down her skin. “Thank you, Sylvie.”

He knows he should pull his hand away from her soft skin. A normal shoulder squeeze is one thing, but this lingering grip is another. He traces his thumb around a freckle on her forearm.

Her skin erupts in little goose bumps and he figures she’s probably freezing her ass off in that dress. “Do you wanna come in? I can get you a sweatshirt or something.”

She looks at her heels before gently easing out of his grip. When she replies, she looks anywhere other than at him. “No, that’s okay. I better go home before Foster goes on a manhunt for the guy who took me out. I told her I’d be home by now.”

Right. It’s probably best she doesn’t cross the threshold. He’s afraid of what he’ll do with a few beers in his system and her looking like that.

She’s sweet, kind and so empathetic while he’s just a mess.

“Yeah, good call. Foster with a pitchfork and torch is a scary thought,” he comments.

She laughs, wrinkling her nose. “You make a very good point.” She swipes some hair away from her face. “I’ll see you on shift, Casey.”

Casey again. It feels like the shift is definitely intentional. She’s creating distance.

He nods, moving all the way back into his apartment. “On shift.”

She waves and he unapologetically watches her walk down the hall. Once she turns the corner, he shuts the door.

[nymphaudora]

» 001. 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐨 ->

this story will include triggers like domestic violence, violence, anxiety, mental illness and other R-rated material & topics. this story will follow a mentally ill child star whose “issues” follow her into adulthood she crosses paths with a former collab artist, drake who is there with her through all her difficulties and struggles despite her trust issues & problems, he shows her that he isn’t perfect either. how will they navigate their relationship?

Leo sat on the toilet crying hot tears pierced her cheeks she had yet again been embarrassed by her boyfriend. Twenty minutes prior a few women had approached her showing her The Shade Room post that read “Kaiya & Metro Boomin spotted together this weekend, has Kaiya betrayed her longtime friend Leo?” Leo’s head started to hurt she had cried so much, she wasn't surprised by her bitter friend & slutty boyfriend. The pain was still so overwhelming she couldn't even draw breath, she kept her composure because she knew that people would be looking for a story so she left the stall & began cleaning up her face.

She took a breath & then stepped out of the restroom her hands shaking & eyes red. Leo walked back into the club some stared and others just laughed and shit-talked, she didn’t even turn around and look at the crowd. Forcing her way through sections she walked outside where her driver waited. “Take me home please.” She said before he could even speak. Her driver just nodded starting the car & driving away. She just kept staring at the post until her eyes started to water sliding the window open her driver handed her a box of Kleenex, and she wiped her eyes. “Yo, take me to Metro’s house,” she said as the driver nodded.

Leo stood outside sighing using her keys to unlock the door, she walked toward his art studio shaking and then opening every bottle of spray paint, spraying each painting individually covering the walls with paint. She made her way to the living room and began writing nasty words on his furniture. She slid his glasses over & a few vases then she came to an abrupt stop her eyes wandering to his studio she tried to stop but she just couldn't she walked over “Fuck it.” She said aloud, Leo walked in and then had an even better idea she put his computer in her purse and left locking the door behind her and getting back into the car. Her driver then sped off & brought her back to her house.

After her driver brought her back to the house she got in the shower and washed off her makeup then she put a robe on then went to go sit on the sofa. She sat drinking a glass of wine and flipping through the channels when a voice yelled her name, “Bae!” the voice yelled, “You here?” he questioned, it was Metro. She rolled her eyes & stood up to go wash the glass she had used along with the rest of the dirty dishes, her body tensed as she felt him behind her “I missed you.” He said grinning & rubbing her curves reaching up her robe Leo had never felt more disgusted.

He began getting nervous, “Bae, the silent treatment? For real? I ain't even do nothing.” Metro lied. She turned around breaking into tears “You must think I'm fucking stupid, I saw it already. Get your shit out of my house tonight! No later.” She commanded her voice shaky & heartbroken “Babe that wasn't even real!” as he went to hug her. “Don't fucking touch me, Leland.” She shouted pulling a knife from a drawer.

“Wow, you're a twisted sick bitch you know that right? This why I even FUCK with Kaiya your nuts.” He said disarming her holding the knife in his hands. Her body shook, she was terrified he was much stronger than her & he'd put his hands on her multiple times the look in his eyes was very telling, that devilish look in his eyes shook her. “Fuck you gon do now Leo, huh?” he said placing the knife towards her neck “Nothing…” she muttered her eyes filled with tears. She stopped for a second plotting her next move “You won't kill me.” Leo said in a shaky voice.

The only thought in her was ‘Why the hell would you provoke him?’

Before he could even form words she slashed a plate over his head she stared at his unconscious figure before reaching to grab her phone & call 911.

Her small hands shook as cops spoke to Leland trying to understand what happened tonight she kept zoning out while the police spoke to her she fidgeted looking nervous. He just gave her nasty looks, dry blood painted his upset face. “Excuse me, I'm Officer Styles.” The woman in front of her introduced holding her hand out, “Sorry, I'm—” Leo said before she was cut off. “Leo Ayene? My daughter loves that song you have with Drake.” Styles chuckled “Alright can you explain what happened here?” the woman requested.

“Uhm, It was an act of self-defense he had a knife to my throat but I’d prefer my lawyer present.”

🪽 TAGS: @itsyagirljaz @killatravtramp @iknowdatsrightbih @sativachilombo

[sourbinnie]

cicuta -> ch.1 : thrill

-> genre : non!idol au | angst | smut | fluff | all of it one bowl -> pair : ot8!skz x fem!reader -> warnings : swearing ; smoking ; i am so bad at rhyming -> plot : so how did you end up surrounded by the biggest rappers from the underground seoul scene? your brother was making it big (even if your parents didn't believe that was a real job) and you decided to join him at one of the finals to see him. let's say that's where it all went downhill… -> appeareances from other idols, stay tuned!

next

as i looked around the house and saw mingi pacing back and forth, i knew something was wrong. he usually flared confidence and probably threw a witty comment at me every once in a while but it's like today it was different. he was dressed up to go out and he looked really good in his fit but since he was going round and round through the whole house, it was becoming messier.

"okay what's up?" i asked as i slowed him down and made him stop. combing his hair with my hand and fixing his jacket as he sighed without even looking at me.

"i have a competition and i really need to win. i don't even have the verses prepared in my head, scared of fucking it up and hongjoong is not even gonna be there." mingi expressed as his head was spinning around and i rolled my eyes. i knew how much freestyle meant to him and how much competitions took a toll on him every time he lost. our parents weren't particularly proud of him for choosing this path but i knew how much music meant to him and he had the skill to get big so of course i was gonna support him.

"you're already stressed and you're not even on the stage yet. it's gonna be fine, rhymes come to you naturally and you always kill it." i said as i tried to comfort him but i knew it was no use. there was something about having the support from his hyung that just brought the confidence he needed, hongjoong was always the one to support him through everything and it was odd that he wasn't gonna be there. "wooyoung is not gonna be there either?"

"who knows where the fuck he is? i haven't seen him in forever since he fought with san." he said and i just knew that if those two weren't gonna be there, mingi was gonna be a nervous wreck through the whole ride. 

"okay, give me like 10 minutes and i'll get ready." i said as i did a quick run to my room to find the perfect fit. i didn't catch the pure look of confusion in my brother's face but i could already tell that he didn't believe me by the tone of his voice.

"are you serious? you know you don't have to right?" he said and i just rolled my eyes on the other side of the door as i did my best to change clothes and do my makeup fast enough. he was always putting himself down, he already felt bad that he wasn't following the career that our parents wanted for him and i was done with not acting up.

"mingi i'm going with you, i want to support you and i ain't leaving you all alone." i said as i came out of my room, all dressed up and ready to go. he smiled and nodded as we walked out of the house, no more words needed to be said as we stepped into his car. 

i was going to drive us there and let him concentrate, make all the rhymes he needed in his head and knew he was gonna kill it in the end. whether he won or lost, that didn't matter, what mattered is that he got to present his passion on the stage and that was rapping.

the drive wasn't really long but as we got closer to where the arena laid, i just couldn't believe the size of it. the amount of fans mingi had was insane, i didn't even know the level my brother was on and i suddenly felt like a bad sister. he rolled the window down as he waved and i could hear the scream from both fanboys and fangirls, i smiled knowing this is what made him happy. 

parking the car on the vip section felt weird but if i was gonna come to more competitions, i should probably be getting used to it. as i looked around, the place couldn't be more big and my brother's smile never left his face. i knew at that moment that the anxiety was gone and that the side that i knew of mingi was kicking in. he was jumping up and down in excitement, saying hi to everyone and introducing me in the process as we got in the stadium. it was starting to fill up from what i could see from the sides in the backstage and i've never seen anything quite like this before. 

i started to walk my way towards where the screens were and close to where the exit to the stage was. kinda got caught up in the moment when i felt someone staring at me so i turned around and my eyes got lost in someone's. not just someone, i knew he was famous, i knew he made a career out of freestyle and i heard him sometimes on the radio, but i could never remember his name. it was intense the way he stared at me and got closer but i let it happen. as the lights were clearer i could make out his features better and most of all the tattoos that covered his face, his hands and arms. 

"so you're mingi's sister?" bangchan asked or at least that's what i thought his name was. can you blame me? i'm not familiar and this is my first time here. i couldn't say though that i wasn't intrigued and a bit intimidated because he had a weird aura about him (or it's probably the face tattoos).

"yeah, it's the first time i'm seeing him compete." i said as i looked around because i thought he was right behind me but i lost track of him. i sighed as he probably got distracted with the first thing he saw or the first person he came across. "i don't know much about rap competitions though but i heard my brother and he's pretty good."

"oh yeah he's incredible. he was in the same group as wooyoung and hongjoong, they killed it in the scene back in the day. wow i'm sounding old as fuck." he said as he crossed his arms and i got a peek at the different designs that were covering him. "oh i'm chan by the way, kind obvious since that's almost my stage name but yeah whatever."

"i'm (y/n), nice to meet you." i said with a smile and he smiled back, damn dimples okay. not like i had a thing for dimples and tats at all, nope. it was easy to lie to myself but i needed to pull myself together, this was my brother's friend at the end of the day. 

"already flirting with someone? you've got a girlfriend christopher." another guy said as he approached us, oh my god more tattoos kill me now. but now i knew that chan was off limits and i would stick to being good, not gonna get involved in a cheating scandal, that's not me!

"shut the fuck up! this is mingi's sister dumbass." chan said and the other dude made the most shocked expression. okay so mingi did not talk about me at all which was good and bad, good because i did not like to be mentioned around but also if i knew it was full of guys like these, i would've liked them to know my existence. then again it wouldn't have been good because i would constantly be thrown around in verses.

"oh shit, hi i'm changbin. you probably heard of me because i'm wooyoung's best friend and he's very close to mingi." he said and of fucking course, how did i not recognize him? dude is practically one of the best rappers in korea. the fact that i was standing by two people that were masters of not only this scene but of music was huge to me and the fact that they were nice just made it better. 

"hi, yeah wooyoung is at my house a lot. please come pick him up, he practically lives there." i said, rolling my eyes, which caused them to laugh and god what a beautiful sound. no, boundaries (y/n) please, stay true to yourself and don't fall for the man with tats again. 

"(y/n) what are you doing with these old men? oh wait never mind, i'm older than bin by two days." he said as he got close to you and greeted chan and changbin with a smile. "i didn't expect you two here and it seems like you met my sister." 

"well changbin obviously came by to support jeongin since you're competing with him today. i have no idea what i'm doing here man, i practically live here." chan said, lighting up a cigarette which i found kinda odd since we were backstage and not outside but i was guessing no one really cared about that shit here.

"dude is a freestyle ancient, he has to be in all competitions." changbin said, which earned him a punch in the shoulder from chan and a laugh from mingi and myself. "but yeah i gotta support my boy but i wish you the best as well."

"thank you man, really appreciate it." mingi said and looked at me, giving me a little smile which i gave him back as i hugged him. "gotta go on stage, don't drift too far away and fucking pray that i win."

"duh dumbass, that's why i came here!" i said smiling and giving him a pat on the back as he went out, all the lights focusing on him and the so-called jeongin or i.n. also there were the judges who were mostly composed from ex freestylers, rappers and previous winners. 

"let's get this show started." changbin said and chan just nodded as he looked at the screen but then he looked back. 

he gave me a wink and of fucking course i blushed. yeah this wasn't going to end well for me was it?

as i concentrated on trying to watch my brother kill on the mic, i started to notice just how natural he was. he not only had a good stage presence, he knew how to rhyme (this was shocking knowing mingi had failed literature a thousand times).

"you say you kill as an mc, you say you got your whole career ahead. i'm sorry brother, i hear no bars, no flow, sounds like you're fucking dead." mingi said and the crowd roared as i looked at it, the more people i saw. from the seats to the ones who were standing up on the field. so many cellphones, shining through and recording the fight. 

"i might sound dead but i still hear you whisper through and through. even your fucking sister is ashamed of you." jeongin said and this was probably not gonna be the first time i was gonna be mentioned in a competition so i just hid myself behind my hands in embarrassment as changbin laughed. 

"no way that's the same jeongin you raised." chan said as he shook his head in disbelief. changbin nodded as he looked at the clock on the screen, signaling that was the last verse for now. it only got harder from there as they words popped up on the screen and they had to rhyme without knowing what would come up next. 

"you brought up my sister, you brought up my family. at least she's here unlike your family, heard they thought it was a tragedy that you're sucking on some old rapper's dick." mingi said laughing and the crowd went nuts. even changbin was in shock that he was brought up in a verse. i looked around and saw chan laughing his ass off as he palmed changbin on the back. 

"i'm gonna fucking kill mingi dude." changbin said and i couldn't help but laugh too. not only was mingi older and taller, outside of his stage persona he could do no wrong. "stop laughing (y/n), this is serious matters!"

"i'm sorry!" i apologized but couldn't help but laugh again as i thought of the rhyme and changbin's expression. i'm not good at pretending at the end of the day.

"it's fine, the man just can't take it when they call him old even though he's been in the game for so long so it sure feels like it." chan said as he took a hit from another cigarette and blew the smoke outside. i hated smoking but why did this man make it look so fucking hot? it was unbearable.

i looked at the screen again and saw that the voting had begun. "(y/n) stop getting distracted by men and actually pay attention to your brother" i thought to myself and as soon as i started to watch it, the results were in. i saw the host walk down and lift up mingi's arm as jeongin clapped and everyone cheered. i smiled as i couldn't believe it and even started clapping myself from how excited i was. not only it was his first solo competition, not only his friends weren't here but he actually killed it and he deserved the victory.

✉ ✉ ✉ 

a few hours had passed since mingi's victory and to celebrate it, they held a huge party in the backstage. of course my brother was already a few drinks in and stumbling all around the place as i watched him move around. i was sitting down, i wasn't drinking because i had to drive us home and i was just checking my phone when suddenly i felt someone sit next to me.

"hey, i know you don't know me but i'm sorry for dropping you in a verse like that. you're (y/n) right?" jeongin said to me and i smiled. ok if he wasn't adorable, i don't know what he was but the energy he was giving me was just the cutest. 

"yeah and you're jeongin?" i asked to be sure since maybe i was getting his name wrong the whole time but he just nodded as he blushed. "you don't have to say sorry, i know how this battles go." 

"i usually never mess with family but changbin told me to be rougher. he says i'm too soft on the mic but that my pace is good." he said and i nodded as i listened to him. it genuinely sounded like he was struggling with his mentor but i guessed that's how most mentor-alumni relationships went. 

"i mean i don't know much about it but today you killed it. you probably feel disappointed over not winning, that doesn't mean you weren't good though." i said looking at him, his fox-like eyes were captivating as he smiled and blushed even more. he looked like a tomato between the heat and the embarrassment but it just made me want to get closer to him, i could not explain it.

"that means a lot to me, thank you." he mumbled and i just gave him a little smile as i looked around the crowded room. lots of drunk people, lots of well known musicians appeared as well and lots of making out. i could spot a figure from a mile away and that was chan, i could never miss the cross next to his eye and he was joined by a girl that i guessed was his girlfriend, the one changbin mentioned. "i'm not even sure if that's hyung's girlfriend, not gonna lie."

"oh? i heard changbin mentioned he had one and i thought it was her." i said and when i looked around again, they drifted off to a corner to make out. yeah, nasty, not my thing but to each their own i guess. 

"yeah no, that's not her but this is not shocking at all. he kinda does this all the time." jeongin said and i was living for him spilling the tea on me (okay maybe i shouldn't be but who cares). "you're not drinking?"

"i have to drive mingi home so i'm trying to be the responsible one." i said and he nodded, it felt like the air got tighter as more people were joining in. the heat was already exhausting as i took off my jacket but jeongin put it back on my shoulders again. 

"not trying to be rude, it's just some guys here are kinda creepy. if you want to, we can go outside?" he offered and i nodded as the room felt like it was closing in on me. jeongin grabbed my hand and i intertwined our fingers to not lose him in the crowd. making our way through people was hard but it brought the nice cold air of being outside and it helped me breathe again. 

the night was still young as we looked at the sky. you couldn't see a single star because of the lights but it still was as beautiful as it could be. the arena was enormous, i wondered how it felt like for my brother and for jeongin to receive the support of so many people, to hear that many folks screaming your name. it must be frightening but so exciting at the same time.

"noona? you've got lost in your thoughts." jeongin said and i looked back at him. i smiled because he was adorable like i said before and i couldn't help but love those dimples. oh god am i seriously thinking that? brain shut up for a second and stop being weird. "is everything okay?"

"yeah, i just tend to drift away sometimes. can i call you innie?" i asked and he smiled, again blushing and nodding. it just made me smile back as i looked at him and got closer, i didn't know exactly why but there was like something pulling me towards him. 

"mingi hyung will kill me." he said yet one of his hands went from his pockets all the way to my cheek as he caressed it slowly. he couldn't help but bite his lip as he looked at me up close and i needed it, i craved his lips as a rush of electricity flowing through me as he closed the gap and met me in a kiss. it wasn't tender or soft, it was full energy just like him when he was on the stage and i could feel a cold metal on his tongue, goddamn if it wasn't enough he had a fucking piercing.

i couldn't even recall what happened after that because all i could feel was jeongin's lips on mine and the thrill of kissing in an empty place but feeling like everyone was seeing us. his hands traveling to my waist and pulling me closer like i was gonna leave yet the last thing i wanted to do was escape from his embrace.

[cha-melodius]

20 for the writing meme, please!

Thanks for asking! You picked a doozy, lol. (Ask me questions about my writing)

20. Tell us the meta about your writing that you really want to ramble to people about (symbolism you’ve included, character or relationship development that you love, hidden references, callbacks or clues for future scenes?)

All right, here's some meta for chapter 2 of Nova, Baby (why chapter 2? Because it's an entire 5+1 inside a single chapter of a multichap fic, which is meta enough reason to choose it).

So yeah, it's a 5+1! I thought this was very clever, lol. Also a little bonkers, but there you go. I love this chapter because it really is a huge arc in Alex and Henry's relationship development, plus I got to play with these little encapsulated moments, and some other characters got to come in too (Nora, Pez). I'll give you some "behind the story" and lists of references for each section!

Below will be spoilers for the entire fic, so be forewarned.

I. My excuse for food-as-a-metaphor-for-love. I love that canonically Alex is a good cook, and this was my excuse to have them indulge when normally you might not get much of that in spy fiction (although, this is also a bit of a reference to my other fandom, The Man from UNCLE, where one of the spies is also a good cook; fancy dishes at safehouses is kind of my jam). I chose molé as a dish because making a traditional one has so many ingredients, to really drive home Alex putting a lot of effort into his relationship with Henry.

II. I had such fun writing this one so that, even though it's from Alex's POV, the reader doesn't know he's wearing a vest until Henry does. He might not have been risking his life (much), but he was definitely risking some broken ribs. This one has a bunch of little references in it, mostly to other spy media:

jumping through a fifth story window into a swimming pool—this is a Burn Notice reference. Throw a mattress into the pool first. Also I just love the idea of Alex being a little Extra when it comes to being a spy.

three guys who look like they walked off a Guy Ritchie set—TMFU is a Guy Ritchie movie, plus I love his movies in general.

Alex hadn’t gotten any confirmation from Langley that MI6 would be a part of this op, Henry had just shown up and Alex hadn’t really questioned it—Meant to sow a tiny thread of doubt in Alex's mind, which would pay off later when the fake burn file comes through.

he notices the way Henry’s eyelashes are wet and clumping together and his eyes are rimmed in red—Henry fucking lost it here. See also the part where he kills the men rather than his usual incapacitating, nonlethal shots. This is probably the point where he realizes how deep he's in.

Turns out, they don’t argue about what to do with it. They destroy the hard drive—direct TMFU reference, (spoilers for that movie), this is what Illya and Napoleon do at the end with the missile plans.

III. The classic Nora-and-Alex-have-a-conversation-about-his-bisexuality scene. Also I just loved the idea of Alex being so oblivious to his bisexuality that he's actually sucked cock before and written it off because 'that's just what spies do'. The layout of desks/offices in this fic roughly comes from the show Covert Affairs, since it's one of the few I've watched that actually regularly shows CIA interiors.

IV. Behind the story peek: Henry bails on this mission because he's concerned, after Lisbon, that he's getting in too deep. Also this scene Alex being a Henry-sexual (not interested in going home with any other people in the bar but can't figure out why), which I love. Also Pez in a poncho, because he would. Pez and Alex have an absolute blast on their mission, and Pez gives Henry no end of shit about Alex when he gets back.

V. Tender wound-tending my beloved. This was such a moment of honesty for them. I mean, not completely honest, but I think this is the first time Alex really realizes just how much Henry cares about him (save the full romantic feelings). There is, of course, a massive callback to this scene near the end of the fic where Alex tells Henry that he can't die because promised he'd always take care of him. All that time, he's carried that in his memory. So yeah, this is a pivotal moment.

+1. Ah, the kiss moment. I always love a kiss-as-a-cover trope, and it made for a good first kiss in this one where it would be easier to write off the potential for feelings, since it was all for the mission. Lots of canon references in this one:

in another life, he would have made a great politician—obvious reference is obvious.

I suppose I could, I don’t know, fall into the dessert table or something—a refence to Cakegate of course.

Christ, you’re thick sometimes—I changed the quote because I wanted it to be a bit less severe than "as thick as it gets." Alex is only thick sometimes in this universe, lol.

Henry’s back hits the wall next to some kind of small, indoor tree—always kissing under a tree, these two.

public displays of affection can be strategically useful for diverting scrutiny away from yourself—yes, this a CA: TWS reference

ALL RIGHT, that's probably enough lmaooooo. You asked me to ramble and I rambled. I hope this was interesting to at least one person.

[pokefighter]

Thoughts and headcanons

I was lazy to type these at first despite it being in the back of my mind for months, but it’s nice to have a place to organize dumb thoughts. As I’m catching up on other anime like Yugioh, it’s kind of sad that Death Note in comparison doesn’t have much content in terms of world building, merchandise, or even showing what a character’s life is like outside of doing their job. In fact, some of their existence are treated solely as a plot device instead of a fleshed out compelling person. I know it’s mainly because DN’s writing is more story-driven than on characters, but it leaves me wanting to know more about them. 

Besides being highly fond of a few characters, admiring the animation’s cinematic visuals and how the style is a time capsule of early 2000 anime (muted color palette, gothic aesthetic, white gradient lighting) I’m not that invested with DN as a whole, the Yotsuba arc being the weakest with forgettable side villains (seriously, how often do you hear anyone mention the Yostuba members besides occasionally Higuchi?) and a section that dragged on longer than it should have. Rem being the one to kill L also ruined the point of this whole battle of wits DN was building up if Light can simply make a fucking shinigami do the work. It’s fine though, L’s passing means BEST BOY NEAR has now entered the picture.

Only Near can have soulless eyes and still be cutest thing alive. He actually fits well with the gothic visual design of DN in subtle ways- It’s those black eyes that stare right into your soul, his ghostly appearance, playing with creepy toys/finger puppets/L’s mask, and smiling like a psychopath out of nowhere in some scenes, hilariously contrasting his usual stoic demeanor. 

Onto headcanons:

Near

can be more sensitive than he lets on, he’s just good at hiding it. 

avoids eye contact unless it’s with someone he trusts.

enjoys visual stimulation such as the flickering of holiday lights, rain drops on a window, colorful contraptions performing in a loop or predictable pattern like a toy train driving in circles or a spinning windmill (I sketched something for this).

round pudgy Near >>>> generic skinny anime girl Near. I get why some imagine him skinny since he barely....moves. but a lil bit of chub fits his character design better. Plus there’s already plenty of skinny bitches in DN so it’s more fun to see some variety (long-haired Near is an exception bc he lost all his baby fat by then).

has a rather big capacity to hate or look down on someone, shown by his opinions on Kira, the president, Takada, etc. It’s visually amplified in the anime where he constantly looks like an angry kitten. 

smug brat

the giant common room at Wammy’s House is also Near’s playroom and there are days when everyone needs to clear out so he can play amongst 1000000000000000+ legos. 

his reaction came off as cold during the announcement of L’s death, but I imagine he didn’t exactly know how to express his grief at the moment. You even see a nonverbal display of his upset in canon when he spills his puzzle pieces on the floor. The first emotion he felt was anger towards L. The hero he respected was supposed to be unbeatable. L promised he’d win. It’s not until Near’s alone in his room that he breaks down. 

this one’s not a headcanon, but I love the fact that he's literally the only main character who survived. And on top of that, a breaker of the white-haired-anime-character-dies trope. What a king. Big win for autism. 

has extremely low pain tolerance. One little splinter to the finger and he’s done. 

Creepy nightmare fuel L is best L. 

L

can play the piano and sometimes does it during his Wammy House visits. 

has 0 interest in romantic relations. He doesn’t even express interest in making friends. He’s shown only ever focused on crime solving and is content with it. Other than that, I can only see him as a top. He’s prideful, hates losing any ounce of control, and isn’t the type to let his guard down.

L understands Near best. Everything about them looks like they’d be on the same wavelength. They can communicate and tell what the other’s thinking with a glance. No words needed.

so dependent on sweets that he can’t function without it, almost like an addict. If he doesn’t get his daily sugar, he becomes distressed and easily irritated.

Speaking of addiction, I doubt he’s the type to use drugs (though he certainly would have easy access), but maybe he’d save it for rare occasions when he needs to truly wind down and turn off his mind especially after an exhausting case.

is impatient and less cooperative when working with others as opposed to Near. (canon actually, just an observation.) 

like Near, L is also sensitive to noise and dislikes being around loud people/environments, but he’ll tolerate it if it’s necessary.

unlike Near, L has a much higher pain tolerance. He took a punch to the face several times and didn’t even flinch. If something did hurt, he’d under react simply saying: “ow.” with the same stoic face. 

Yeah I know that’s Misa’s eye but there’s no official anime screencap for B so fuck it that’s him with mascara. 

Beyond Birthday

if Another Note ever got an anime adaption, Akira Ishida would be the  ideal voice for B. Just listen to these clips. I can’t find anyone else more perfect for the role. A soft yet menacing tone, constantly scheming.

I know there’s BxL fanfics out there, but it’s hard to see B ever wanting him. If anything, I’m more convinced that B loathes L, what he represents, and how he’s idolized by the kids at Wammy’s House, you know, an institution that grooms orphans to become L’s successor.

B is also often depicted as a top but we all know he’s true bottom because what edgy tryhard says out loud: “I’m a top, an aggressive top (guys i swear i’m a top look at me lick this knife i’m so evil)” -B 

he’s a few years younger than L. 

was close friends with A. A’s death was the final straw that pushed B to leave Wammy’s House.

B is Californian, more specifically from L.A. What better location to scheme complex murders than in a place you’re well familiar with?  

he had eyebrows, but shaved them off for his L disguise.