#stop avoiding it with bears like cowards

[bearotonin-international]

Hello fellow bear lovers! I have an oc who is a kermode bear centaur (human waist up, bear waist down)! I don’t get much practice drawing him though :/ could you give me some goofy kermode bear (or normal blackbear!) pictures i can use for practice?

so we know you didn't ask for this but the team's gonna nerd out for a couple minutes here and provide a couple fun facts about kermode bears (the team is procrastinating doing actual work). and then provide the requested photos as we always do :)

for anyone who doesn't know, kermode bears are a subspecies of black bears, and most kermode bears do not actually have white coats. kermode bears with white coats are called spirit bears (and only about 10-20% of kermode bears are spirit bears). the white of the spirit bear is a specific coat color morph that is much more genetically common in the kermode bear population. (there's a recessive mutant gene that must be present in both parents (bearants) for the cub to be a spirit bear).

(here's a funky lil graphic about spirit bear genetics)

so it's pretty common for kermode bear mixed families with cubs that are different colors from their mothers and/or each other

there is research suggesting two primary reasons the prominence of the white coat in kermode bears is because it gives the bears an advantage while fishing during the day time, because the fish are less likely to see their light coats from underwater (kermode bears are supremely skilled and successful slammers of salmon) (there's all kinds of fun facts about the dietary differences of spirit bears and kermode bears inhabiting the same reasons).

another reason for the prominence of spirit bears is because of positive assortative mating (aka white kermode bears breed more with other white kermode bears (and black kermode bears tend to breed more with other black kermode bears)) (one of the fun theories for why this occurs is that babies are more likely to imprint on their mother's coat color)

there's all kinds of other fun facts about spirit & kermode bears, but we've gone on long enough so

TLDR not all kermode bears are spirit bears but all spirit bears are kermode bears

okay now on to some silly kermode bears as actually requested

[scalingsvt8thusiast]

Skin-Deep Chapter 4

summary: The one where you fall for Seungcheol amongst all the protests and insecurities. The one where you don't know that he's fallen for you too.

a/n: I ended up listening to Love Wins All by IU on repeat to make myself sad for this chapter. I'm generally quite a happy person so I had to somehow dig into the feelings from sadder times. Sorry if it doesn't feel real/deep/sad enough. I tried D:

“Hi Beautiful,” A voice you knew all too well. You ignored him and kept walking. 

“Pretty?” He was persistent you’ll give him that. You continued walking, picking up the pace.

“Baby? I know you can hear me.” He said, “Please slow down, you’re going to hurt yourself.”

With that you faltered, curse your weak heart! You found your path being blocked by Seungcheol so you really had no choice but to stop.

“Hey,” Seungcheol said, you looked away, turning your head away when he made an effort to be face to face with you. 

“What do you want, Seungcheol?” You sounded frustrated and your grip around your bag tightened, not knowing where else to put your hands. Your eyes still not meeting his. 

“You’ve been avoiding me.” 

After that day with Mingyu, you couldn’t deal with your feelings. When Mingyu dropped you off, you reassured him that you were fine, not missing that look of disbelief on his face. Once you reached the safety of your dorm room, you collapsed. You sat with your back against your front door and knees drawn to your chest, unmoving for hours. You felt nothing but an overwhelming sense of sorrow. 

It hurts to know you would never have a chance but you miscalculated how much it would actually hurt to see him with someone else. 

When you finally willed yourself to get up, you decided to do yourself a favour and avoid Seungcheol. You were hoping that if he didn’t see you long enough, he would get bored and find someone else’s feelings to play around with.

You had successfully avoided him for a few days, even changing your usual route home and leaving uni at odd hours. Today you weren’t so lucky. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You said, keeping your voice as devoid of emotion as possible. Seungcheol’s eyebrows furrowed as he ran his hands through his hair.

“Did I do something?” He said.

You debated for a moment, talk to him now or say nothing?

Obviously you were a coward, “No, I’ve seriously just been busy.”

You could feel him boring holes into your head. If you looked at him now, you knew the resolve you built would come crumbling down in a matter of seconds. 

“Come on, baby. Tell me what did I do?” He placed his hands on your sides, tilting his head to meet your eyes.

At the feeling of his arms and the sound of his gentle voice, you felt yourself falling apart.

“I can’t do this anymore.” Your voice came out barely a whisper, eyes focusing on the cobblestone at your feet. 

“What can’t you do?” He said, genuinely lost. 

He had finally caught you after searching the campus for days. He even resorted to camping outside your dorm in one of his less extravagant cars to catch a glimpse of you, like a creep. When he finally found you, you didn’t look happy. You would normally give him one of your sweet smiles that made him lose control of his legs. You would look at him with those beautiful eyes that caused his respiratory muscles to spasm. You would laugh when he cracked a joke and he decided that all the best musicians in the world had nothing over your laughter.

“I can’t let you keep playing with me like this.” You said, trying to swallow the growing lump in your throat. Feeling wet streaks running down your cheeks, you cursed. You did not want to cry in front of him. 

Seungcheol’s heart clenched, he had never seen you this way. He couldn’t bear to see you look so down and dejected.

“Baby, why-“

“Cheol,“ you cut him off, pushing his arms off you, not wanting him to touch you any longer. “Maybe we should stop talking.”

“What?” Seungcheol said, he was desperate now, desperate to not lose you. His hands searched for yours and pulled you into his chest. He held you tight against him.

“Baby, I’m sorry for whatever I did alright?” He was practically begging, “I promise I won’t do it again, please don’t say that.”

You were letting out soft sniffles and whimpers against his chest. He continued muttering soft apologies into your hair while rubbing your back. He could only hold you while patiently waiting for you to tell him what was wrong. He couldn’t suppress the small feeling of content as you chose to stay in his arms and not push him away, at least that meant he still had a chance. In a happier situation, he would have chosen to stay like that forever. 

“I’ll get on my knees if you want me too, just please tell me what did I do?” He tried again, pulling away to face you. 

“Cheol, I like you.” You said in between sniffles, you kept your eyes trained on his chest, not daring to look at him. “I like you a lot and that’s on me. I know you don’t feel the same way about me. I do. So let’s just not- “

“Who said that I don’t feel the same way?”

Shocked by his reply, your head snapped up so fast you swear you almost gave yourself whiplash. This was the first time you looked at him in the past few days, he looked exhausted, his eye bags were deep and his face paler than usual. 

“There’s my beautiful girl.” He said, bringing his hand up to touch your cheek, his eyes not leaving yours. Your eyes wide as you watch him, looking for any signs of humour in his face, thinking he was just saying it to make you feel better. 

“I like you too.” He stated. He said it like it was so obvious that everybody knew. He said it as if it was the only thing he knew. “In fact, I probably like you more than you like me.”

His eyes crinkled when he gave you a small smile. You were still too shocked to process what he was saying. 

“Baby, are you still with me?” He was concerned that you still weren’t answering him. You two hadn’t even started dating yet, he couldn’t have broken you when he had just told you about his feelings. 

“I-,” You stuttered, “I-sorry, I don't know what to say.”

“You don't have to say anything.”

One of his hands had found its way to the back of your head. He pulled your face closer to his until you could feel his breath on your lips. His eyes darting between your eyes and your lips.

“Is this alright?” He sounded timid, unsure. 

A smile formed on your face. “Of course.”

His lips came down onto yours and it was like a million fireworks erupted within you. He kissed you slowly, taking his time with you. It wasn’t rushed or bruising like the ones you'd read about in romance novels. It was a hundred times better.

His free arm dropped to wrap around your waist, pulling you impossibly closer to him. Your own arms finding solace around his neck, pushing your fingers into his hair. You let out sighs of content and he drank it all up.

Your lips were so soft, softest thing Seungcheol had ever felt. He knew once he got to taste you, he would immediately be addicted. He wanted to do so many more things to you but he would take what you’d allow. If that meant just kisses for the rest of his life, he would die happy. 

When you finally pulled away, he chased your lips. 

“Cheol, we’re in public.” You said, giggling as you playfully smacked him on the chest. 

“That hasn’t stopped me before, baby.” He wiggled his eyebrows playfully and leaned in for another kiss. 

You placed a hand on his cheek and pushed his face away. He whined and pouted. 

“Will you let me take you out, princess?” He said, bringing his nose to yours. His beautiful brown eyes staring into yours. You blushed, feeling shy even though you two had just made out.

“Depends on where we’re going.” You replied. 

“Don’t worry your pretty head about that, I’ve had the reservation down since the day I met you.”

a/n2: hope you enjoyed reading so far! Again, I don't really think I did a good job on this chapter so let me know if you have anything to say about how i could improve :D

[peoniesnro]

In Another Universe

#4. F.R.I.E.N.D.S

Synopsis – When you are just another iteration of Park Jimin’s girlfriend in a different universe.

Park Jimin × Reader

Genre – parallel universe (duh)/ kind of fantasy/ strangers to ??/ SMUT/ maybe romance/ angst/ fluff /Infidelity

Warnings – Language/ SMUT-Breast play/ nipple play/ grinding/nipple orgasms(with grinding)/ INFIDELITY

Word count – 12k (😑)

a/n- Okay I'm a liar. So much for trying to keep the word count under 10k. Sorry for lying. But I love this chapter. Hope you'll love it too. Oh, and the taglists are open. And you can send asks if you want to. I'm curious to know what y'all thinking. Thank you for reading. ♥️

Taglist?

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...................................................................................................

Jimin avoids you. Like you are the plague.

You are so pissed. Like the momma bear he said you were.

You have no memory of how your night at the club ended. Only that you woke up on your bed the next day. With a throbbing head. And a killer hangover. Another week has passed since that day. Your life went from misery to anguish. To an unbearable pain. You are still struggling with your sleeping patterns, your lectures and job. You are running out of your poor excuses. Key is always on your throat. This switching between two worlds still happens, with no answers or solutions. But nothing makes you madder than Park Jimin.

It’s humiliating to be honest. That he avoids you. You don’t know what’s worse. Whether it’s that he always managed to disappear before you wake up or it’s that you’re worried about that, after everything. He advanced toward you first. He touched you first. He kissed you first. You know why he does what he does. That, however, doesn’t make it a good reason. You can’t find it in you to be unconcerned. You are very concerned. He is a fucking coward.

Fuck him!

You scream loudly. Knowing well that no one is inside this damn apartment. Kick the comforter away. It has only been you for four days now. This is the fifth day you are waking up in this fancy apartment alone. Oh, how you wish you could have the controller of this game. How great it would be if you could start avoiding him too. Why would you care this much? It’s frustrating.

It has taken every ounce of your strength not to destroy something to show your anger. To take a lipstick and write down ‘You fucking asshole! Go to hell!’, in his bathroom mirror. Or to write down a letter using all the vengeful, insulting words you know. Thank God that you have some dignity left in you that you did nothing of the sort. Thank God you managed to come and go without leaving a trace of your existence.

You sigh heavily, watching your reflection in the bathroom mirror. There’s dark circles under your eyes. Your skin looks dry. Drier than the Sahara. Simply put, you look like shit. You’ll have to find a way to make this work if this isn’t going to stop. If you can’t find answers, you need to find a way to stay alive. You still don’t know if Jimin has talked with Liya. If he did what she said. Where she is all these times you spend here. Because certainly there was no sign of her being at your apartment. Yours and Jimin’s assumption was that she might be waking up somewhere that isn’t your apartment. Jimin wasn’t very convinced. Said she would be freaking out the next day if something like that happened.

Oh, how you want to scream at him. This isn’t going anywhere this way. He was adamant of trying to find a way to stop this quickly a few weeks ago. And now he acts like this isn’t a problem at all. What can you do after all? You are in a fancy ass apartment with no communication for fucks sake. Your phone doesn’t work here. Isn’t compatible with wi-fi. You still don’t know if you could try using a SIM card. It’s not like you can go out and find out with no money in your hand. And it’s getting damn cold outside.

You have poked your head inside couple of rooms. Found some electronic devices which were either dead or ancient. Found a laptop protected with password and you didn’t try to unlock it. In the end, while you are in this world, you are isolated from the rest of the human race. No internet. No communication. No Jimin. No way of entertaining yourself for the few hours you spend here.

It’s all his fault. Despite all the frustrating fascinations you found with him, you managed to bottle them up and act normal. He destroyed it all. Ruined. And then he has the nerve to avoid you like it’s all on you.

You rinse your mouth off. Splash your face with water. Aggressively. Why the fucking hell do you want Jimin to be here. He is annoying anyway. Why are you angry that he ruined your ‘perfect stranger’s’ relationship. Angry that he avoids you. Why do you fucking care? You for yourself have no idea why you are mad. Or at what you are mad. You are a complete mess. It’s just you are mad you can kill a man with a crochet hook.

You pat your face with a dry towel. It’s more slapping than patting. Throw the towel away. Leave the bathroom to head toward kitchen when there’s a sharp pang in your lower stomach, making you stop in the track. Anger dissipates. Replaces with the pain. You close your eyes shut. It comes again. Subsidies. Comes again. Nothing unfamiliar to you. You know what it means when there’s random pains in your body.

You have a messed-up period cycle. You always keep pads and tampons with you. Knew that your monthly pal is near for a probable two days now. There has been slight pains in your pelvic region. Today it’s intense, which means your friend has finally arrived. Fuck your life. There is your reason to hate the whole world. No, to hate every single world that exists in every fucking universe. You don’t want to deal with cramps right now. Don’t want to have your period while you’re at someone else’s house. It always sucks. Especially, when you have no pads or any kind or period products with you.

Fuck! You have no pads. You straighten up. Eyes wide. What are you going to do? Use tissues? Maybe you can find Liya’s. You turn around again. Rush to the main bathroom. Start rummaging through bathroom cabinet drawers. One by one. And of course there is none. No pads or tampons. Only things you find are damn period cups. There are couple but you’re not sure which are used ones.

You stand in the middle of the bathroom. Have no idea what you are going to do now. And the pain is slowly becoming unbearable. Of course it is. You have bad cramps. You live your life on pain killers during your periods. You need to get something for your pain before it becomes severe. Before you become a crying mess. You do the best you can. With tissues. That’s not going to last at all, but you can find something for the pain. Fall asleep as fast as possible. You search through bathroom cabinet drawers again. Through the drawers in the room. In kitchen. Of fucking course, you can’t find anything, again. What are these people? Androids? How could they not have painkillers in their home? How come Liya doesn’t have pads for emergency situations? You found some pills. Yes. But you have no idea what those for are. Not going to risk your life here.

You crouch down next to the fridge. Pain is intense now. You can’t even stand on your own feet. It’s like your uterus is about to fall. You need to think. About a way to solve this problem. Is hard when your mind is clouded with pain. You are scared to sit down on a chair. What if you stain it? It’ll be so embarrassing.

Deep breaths in. Deep breaths out.

You take deep breaths. There is no way you could fall asleep with this kind of pain. You need pads or anything to help with the blood bath happening between your thighs. You need painkillers. And you have no money and you’re not going to steal money from this house. You are in too much pain to do something like that. There’s only one person you can ask for help. Not that you want to talk to him. He avoids you. Don’t want to appear desperate. Still, the pain is too intense.

There is no communication. You hate that some people decided to rely on smartphones completely. Hate that Jimin and Liya are apparently those kinds of people. Have no landline in their house. You can’t simply bother with trying to unlock locked devices. Your brain isn’t functioning properly at all when you yank the main door open. Reach the only other apartment on this floor. Knock at their door. It opens fast for your relief, revealing a young woman probably on her 30s. She gapes at you. More than surprised.

“Uh…I… I’m really sorry but can I make a phone call?” How stupid this whole ordeal is. What are you doing in front of a stranger’s door and asking for a fucking phone. Should’ve died in your pain. Middle of a blood pool, than this. What were you thinking? The woman raises her eyebrows with her eyes wide. “Well, yeah, but are you okay Liya? You look pale? Why are you here to make a phone call? Where’s Jimin?” There are so many questions leaving her mouth but the only one that registered on your brain is ‘are you okay Liya’.

Shit, you forgot that you look like Liya. Now this might look even more ridiculous in this woman’s eye. You don’t even know her name. You are supposed to be Liya and this woman, in that case, is your neighbor. You try to smile. “I’m… fine. I just uh... broke my phone and…” You don’t know what you should say. “I’m not okay actually.” That feel better than trying to find excuses. “I just need to call Jimin, and I don’t remember his number. Phone’s broken and I… can you please?” You blurt that out. Whatever happens next, you’ll deal with it later. Blood will start running down your legs at this rate.

She stares at you for a minute. And then nods and holds the door for you. Invites you inside and gives you her phone. Thank fuck, she has his number saved. You thank her over and over before dialing his number. Listen to the ringback tone. You absolutely don’t want to do this. Don’t want to talk to Jimin. Ugh, it’s better if you could call Lee Seung than Jimin. The woman walks away to give you privacy. You watch her retrieve into a room while biting onto your thumb nail. You are just about to bite your whole finger away when the phone is answered.

“Mrs. Lee?” Jimin’s voice reaches your ear through the phone. There’s concern laced in his voice. He needs to say hello first. You take a deep breath before speaking. Feel like you have telephobia.

“Uh hello! Jimin, it’s me...” You don’t know if he can recognize you. He will think you are Liya. “Spring Roll?” Oh no he doesn’t think you are Liya. Funny how he went from not recognizing your very obvious differences to recognizing your voice apart from Liya. Or he just knows it’s your day to be here.

“Hey? Are you okay Lil? What’s happening? Why are you like… Why are you at Lee’s?” He asks again when you don’t answer. You didn’t realize you hadn’t answered. You scrunch your eyes shut and grit your teeth to endure a sharp cramp. “No. I mean I’m fine but… Jimin… I need... uh…” It feels embarrassing. “Lil? What is it?” You can hear him shuffle around. Makes you wonder if he is already leaving. Like an obsessed lover in a stupid love story.

“I need um…”

“Yes?”

“I need pads. I need pain killers.” You finally get that out.

It’s fine. It’s fine.

“Sorry but I have no money and there’s no way to contact anyone and it hurts and-” You start again. Feel the need to explain your situation when he disrupts your rambling.

“Okay.” A silence. “Hey Lil? It’s okay.” Another silence. He is probably waiting for you to respond. You don’t. So, he speaks again. “I’ll come. Go home now.” With that he hangs up.

Home?

…………………………………………………………………………………

You blink at the stupid door. You had closed it behind you when you left the apartment. And now it’s locked. You don’t know the password. A quiet groan escapes your mouth as you slightly bang your forehead on the door. Why does your life always go from bad to worse? It’s not like you can just go back and knock on Lee’s door. No, you can’t do that. It’s better to stay here, waiting for Jimin to come. So, you do that. Crouch down again because it hurts bad. Lean your back against the door. Wait... When you are not in pain and can form coherent thoughts, you’ll slap yourself and then later kill Jimin- even though he is the one helping you.

…………………………………………………………………………………

It probably took more than thirty fucking minutes for him to come. Tears are rolling down your cheeks, and you are at verge of passing out, when you finally hear the elevator ding. Tissues are failing you and you are about to cry all over again for the embarrassment when your head snaps towards the sound of footsteps. Eyes landing on Jimin. On a black suit again. Like the last time you saw him. He has a grocery bag in his hands. He stops. Eyes on you. Takes a shaky breath in and approaches you like wind. Crouches down beside you.

“Fuck. What are you doing here? Are you okay?” He slightly touches your face. You shake your head. “No. It hurts. Bad.” You can’t be embarrassed now.

“Fuck I’m sorry it took some time to come Lil. But why are you here? Outside?” His eyes are wide. Mouth a little agape. Adorable. You clutch your stomach tightly. “I... ha...ve no password. I... don’t kn... know it.” You manage through gritted teeth. Jimin sighs, closing his eyes for a moment. Lamenting. Looks like he wants to slap himself.

“Shit. Shit, I’m sorry Lil. I forgot, like…”

You interrupt his pointless apologizing with a painful whine. You’re not his responsibility after all. It’s not like he should be here. Jimin gapes at you, mouth open, for a split second. Nods his head in realization. Surprises you when he suddenly grabs you from your upper arm. Makes sense when he reaches for the lock and enters the password. He holds you steady, so you won’t fall. He holds you steady, so you won’t get into your feet on your own. Stops you when you try to. Surprises you again when he cradles you. You yelps first in surprise and then in mortification.

“No, Jimin. There’s probably …” You don’t get to complete that sentence. Not as he enters the house. Kicks the door shut behind you.

“Fuck it.”

…………………………………………………………………………………

“You fine now?” Jimin softly asks you as he stares at your huddled figure, laying on your side. He stands next to the bed. You feel fairly fine now compared to earlier. Not completely, though. Pain isn’t going to subside just after you swallow some pills. You nod anyway. You are now perfectly curled up in his guest bed. All clean and tummy full. In his clothes since you said you shouldn’t wear Liya’s clothes all the time without her permission. Ready to sleep with your phone and your clothes pressed to your chest. You learned from your mistakes and evolved through the time you’ve been here. That’s how you learned to dress properly to bed. Even with a bra, despite how much you hate to wear it. From now on, you’ll make sure you carry a care package to bed with you. With every essential in there.

“You sure?” Jimin asks again, slightly bending down toward you. You crack an eye open to look at him. He is still in his dress shirt. Looks worried. It was ridiculous how you had to assure him again and again that you will not die and are fully capable of showering alone. He is a funny thing. Jimin is. Paradoxical. Complicated. You find him hard to read. “I’m fine Jimin. It hurts but I’ll be okay. This shit happens every month.” You state matter-of-factly. Jimin snorts. Sits on the edge of the bed. “You sure? Cause you sure did act like it was your first time.” There’s a ghost of a smile on his lips. He has been avoiding you for nearly a week and now acts like nothing happened. Pisses you off. You take a breath in to calm yourself down.

“Well, I always take something for my pain and it’s not like I always ended up in some stranger’s house…You know? With no pads and...” Your words trail off as you watch Jimin grins now. He is teasing you. Asshole. “Oh, fuck you Jimin. It was an emergency. Sorry I bothered you.” You grumble, trying to hide your face in the pillow. “Hey, no Lil, I was just joking and uh... anyway you didn’t bother me. It’s okay to ask for help sometimes. I’m glad you did. If it hurts then it hurts.” He places his hand on your arm. Makes you shudder. His voice is serious now.

You sneak a peek at him again. He and you need to talk. Talk about what happened last time he was close to you. You need to convince him too. Convince that you were drunk and forget it ever happened. This moment, however, doesn’t feel like the right time. You’re still in pain and it’s always easy to procrastinate. It’s okay to let it slide for this one last time. You and Jimin were on good terms before the club night happened. With playful banters and insults that didn’t actually hurt you both. You were kind of friends. Right? Perfect strangers? There’s no reason to be hostile or distance when he is the only person you know in this world. You can sweep it under the rug until you take it out again. So, you nod. Mutter a soft thank you.

“I wouldn’t have call you anyway if I had you know… I just… Fuck.” You don’t know what you should say.

Jimin smiles. His cheeks puffs out like soft, round loaves of bread. You madly want to squeeze them.

Nope. You don’t.

“It’s okay Lil. It was an emergency, like you said. I know you wouldn’t have reached me if it wasn’t. But are you gonna be okay alone? Like do you want me to stay?” He asks, through his grin. Adorable but is so dramatic. You roll your eyes.

“It’s just periods Jimin. I know I was crying but believe me I will not die, I promise.”

“You promise?”

“Yes. I promise. Happy? You can go to work now Mr. CEO. You have a business...” You wince. Grit your teeth. Blow a breath out. “…to run, don’t you?” Complete your sentence finally. Random cursed cramps. Jimin gives you a skeptical glance. Doesn’t say anything when he stands up. You watch him curiously when he rounds the bed and climbs up next to you. This is not good. This, definitely, isn’t good. What is he doing?

“Okay…? What are you doing?” You mumble with wide eyes. “Nothing. Just going to make sure you won’t actually die.” He says as laying back. Eyes on the celling. You turn to your back too. “Seriously Jimin? This is ridiculous. You can go. Besides, isn’t this weird for you to lay here with me?” Look at him with your head turned to his face. “I wake up next to you every other day spring roll. And most of the time, you cling to me like a koala.” He says that very nonchalantly when you choke on your own spit. Do you? You gape at him. Do you really do that? Jimin’s bread cheeks are appearing again, however. He is trying so bad not to break into a laugh. You groan annoyingly. “You little stupid….” Mumble every curse word you know as you turn your side again. Your back to him. Jimin giggles. Why does he have to be adorable all the time? Why do you have to think he is adorable all the time? And hot. And...

This time you are grateful for the sudden pain that make you reel. It distracts you from Jimin. Even though it makes you whimper quietly and squeeze your tummy. Grit your teeth hard and leave you exhausted when it subsides. You take a deep breath after the pain become bearable. Feel Jimin shifts behind you. Maybe he turns to his side too. There’s a beat of silence before his voice reaches you again.

“Are you really okay Lil? Does it hurt a bad?” His voice is too soft for your liking. Makes your heart picks up the speed of pumping blood.

Bad.

You just nod to indicate you are indeed fine when another cramp hits you. He shifts again. Closer to you this time. You are certain. Can feel his warmth on your back now. Makes you tingle all over. This is really bad. And it’s worsen when he speaks again.

“Want me to help you? Do something to soothe the pain?” Jimin whispers. Makes goosebumps appear on your skin. Makes the hair in the nape of your neck stand. You shot your eyes open, staring into dark blue curtains of the room. Heart now beating violently. What does he mean?

“Help me how?” Your body has started to react exactly like that time in the club. Funny, since he isn’t touching you this time. You don’t even know what he is insinuating at. He might well be saying that he would tell you a bedtime story and you are already panting. “I... uh...don’t know. Like rub your tummy like. Fuck I don’t know Lil. Anything to help you.” His voice is still a whisper, and you shudder. Again. Oh, he indefinitely is not going to tell you bedtime stories. Why would he suggest this at all?

The air in the room suddenly feels heavy. You two are going to fuck things up for a second time if you don’t say the right thing.

All you need to say is, ‘are you crazy? I don’t want you touching me, Park Jimin. That’s so wrong. Go to hell’. Then why are you nodding.

This is a disaster.

You stiffen when you feel him scoot closer. Not quite in contact with your body but you are sure just a light movement from you, would make your back plastered into his chest. Can feel his breath on your neck. Like the last time. Makes your head spin. Like the last time. Mouth dry and heart about to leap away. Like the last time. And you are poised. Anticipation firing inside you. Excitement bubbling. Not even trying to soothe your dry throat. As if one single moment from you will make him disappear. “Want me to Lil?” He asks again. Fuck its addicting how his breath fanning your neck when he speaks. You nod again, weakly. “Words Lil. Say you want me to.” Jimin doesn’t even move a finger. Just stays close to you. This surely doesn’t feel like trying to soothe your pain. Instead, feel like you are doing something immoral. Well, it is immoral. You need to use your words and say you don’t want his help. Shouldn’t let this carry away like the last time.

“Yes. Help me Jimin.” You mutter breathlessly. To hell with it. You don’t know what you are doing. “Soothe the pain you know. It’s okay since you are trying to help.” Add that part just for the sake of your sanity. To justify the situation. To make it fair and mitigate. You expect Jimin to laugh at that. Snort. Asks you to stop being a bitch and then trying to justify your bitchy actions. If you are bad, then you are bad. He doesn’t. He doesn’t do any of those things. Surprisingly, agrees with you. “Yes, I’m just trying to help.” You are certain he says it to himself more than to you. You nod in agreement anyway. Wait until he do something. Patiently. Holding your breath. Let that breath out with a shiver when he finally snakes his hand over your waist. Palm flat and places on your tummy. Over your (his) hoodie. “Like this?” Asks again and start to rub gentle circles all over your stomach. You don’t trust your voice. Are afraid you’ll moan. All you can do is nod.

Fortunate how he doesn’t ask you to use your word. You think this situation is embarrassing. How you are near moaning when he is just rubbing your stomach. There’s nothing more but you are becoming pliant. Turning into a mush under his touch. That’s exactly how it was the last time. You’re pathetic aren’t you?

You visibly shudder when his breath hits your sensitive skin every time. It feels good. You won’t lie. Even when you can’t feel his touch properly, it feels damn good. Enough to make you sigh in relief. “Am I doing it right?” Jimin whispers in your ear. A weak yes escapes your mouth. “Does it help? Do you want more?” He scoots closer to you more. Finally press his chest into your back.

Oh God!

You don’t know what you should say. In a world where you are a completely sane person, you would say yes that helps and you don’t want anything more. This world, however, is a world where you are completely insane. So, you say no, for the first question. So, you say yes, for the latter one. Jimin sighs heavily. Almost like he is beyond relieved with your answers. As if he waited for you to say them.

“Okay. I’ll push your hoodie up. Huh? Just want to soothe the pain. That way will be better.” He waits again until you say yes. Give him the green light to proceed. The thing is, he needs to stop asking because you won’t say no. You feel like you are high. Your brain is malfunctioning. Bite your bottom lip until the blood draws when he does push the hoodie up, after another one of your weak yes’. Touches your bare tummy. Directly touches your skin for the first time. Without any barriers and you are certain he feels how you tremble.

It's just fingers first. Drawing mindless, yet burning patterns on your hot skin. And then he is pressing those fingers on your skin. Then painfully slowly his entire palm. Touches you properly. Massages your soft muscles. His hand is all over your tummy.

“This good?” Asks again. Makes you annoyed.

“Yes. Please.” Fuck why did you say please. What are you begging for. You’re really glad he doesn’t ask. Just keeps caressing you. Rubbing. Massaging. Touches turning tender every time. Comes even more closer to you. Hides his face in your hair. You weakly whimper when you feel him inhaling. A feathery kiss following. He brings you Impossibly closer to him.

“Lil...” Breathes in your ear.

“Hm?”

“Fuck. Just?”

“What?” Your voice is barely audible.

“Can I? Please?” His voice is no different. Husky. Breathy. And feels like liquid honey to your ears.

You know what he is asking for. You shouldn’t but you do. This is the only chance for you to do the right thing. At least pretend dumb and stop him.

“Yes. Jimin….yes.” How desperate you sound. The only relief is the shudder you feel on Jimin’s body. “Thanks fuck.” Says as his hand starts wandering upwards. Up, up and up. You give up trying to keep your mouth shut. Allow yourself to softly moan when his hand reaches your ribcage. Touches you there properly. Fingers graze the underside of your boobs. But doesn’t go any further. Stops there. Drives you crazy.

No, you shouldn’t ask for it. Shouldn’t beg.

“Fuck Jimin. Please.”

Jimin hides his face in your neck. His grip on you tighten. “Please what?” Loves to make you little more miserable than you are. It seems. “Please what Lil? What do you want?” Asks again in your ear. You want to go back to your bickering selves and curse the shit out of him. Impossible when he gives you feathery touches under your left boob. So, you give up.

“Touch me. Please fuck touch me.” Ask for what you want like a good girl. Jimin curses. “Touch you where? I am touching you.” Says as he squeezes you tightly. You whimper again. This time in complaint. He doesn’t do anything though. Waits patiently for your answer. Well, fuck it!

“Tits. My tits Jimin. Please touch them.” You don’t say those words, you moan them. Jimin kisses your ear at that. “Fuck Lil.” Mumbles in your ear and then his hand goes to where you want it to be. Grabs your left boob in his palm. Grips it hard. Molds. Sighs heavily.

“Fuck you are not wearing a bra again?” Traces his thumb over your hardened nipple. Takes it between his thumb and forefinger, pinch it. Makes you twitch. Do it again and again. “I… J... Jimin. I…” Your voice is trembling. “It’s hot.” Jimin says mindlessly. Shifts the attention between your two breasts. Molds them so good that you are moaning without you realizing. Makes Jimin press himself firmly against you.

It feels so sudden. Like the time in club. Why do you do this? He and you? Why neither of you can think properly? You are not drunk now. Very sober and still do this.

It's very wrong. Immoral. Unfaithful. Yet, it’s happening. And it is so fucking good. You’ve been starving for touch, and you are incapable of refusing one when you finally receive it. Especially, when those touches belongs to someone like Park Jimin. You’ll think about the reasons later. For now, you’ll just give up. Let him play. Touch you right. Allow him more access to do it more. That’s why you slowly start to roll onto your back. To let him touch you more. He helps you. Shits in his place and snakes his hand under your neck. Curls that hand so you become impossibly close to him. Keeps groping your soft mounds. Like he can’t stop doing so.

You look at him for the first time after you started this. Are so happy to see him flushed. Similar to you. Eyes hooded and pupils dilated. Mesmerizing. Comes closer to your face. Breath fanning your lips now. For split second you think he’ll kiss you. Disappointingly, he doesn't. Murmurs against your mouth instead.

“They are so soft. Your tits. Fucking soft. Wanna touch them all the time.” His lips slightly brush against yours when he mumbles. You moan shamelessly. You were turned on in an inhuman way from the beginning. Now though, you think you’ll die. You smell him in. Want to tell him he can just do that. Feel like you are travelling through the clouds. Words fail you. Only breathless whimpers and monas leave your dry mouth.

“Will you show me, Lil?” Asks again since all you do is gaping. It’s already too late turn around now. You rub your thighs together. Clench around nothing. “Please? Just want to see.” Squeezes your left tit so hard that a cry rip through your throat. Back arching. You nod desperately. “Yes. Yes. Yes, you can.” Close your eyes to drown in the head spinning feeling. Only for a moment though. Open them slowly again when you feel Jimin shifts your hoodie up. Revealing your bare skin to him. You are not surprised anymore. Just painfully horny. The way his breathing staggered, makes the sensation double. He pushes the hoodie all the way up. Toward your neck. Gets your tits bare in front of his eyes.

“Shit. Fuck Lil.” Curses some more. Molds your tits some more. Props himself a little bit. You reluctantly raise your head to let his hand go. Leans over you. Grabs your tits with his both hands. Start groping and molding. Sanity is slipping through his fingers as you watch. You and him both are insane now. You keep leaning into his touches. Harsh and pleasurable ministrations. Moan his name.

“Shit you are gorgeous.”

“You have seen them Jimin.”

“This is different. Fuck. I wanna suck them.” He peeks at you through his lashes. The desperation in his face together with his words are enough to make you cum in your pants. You want to say yes but words aren’t coming out. Especially, when he presses a tender kiss to one of your nipples. Pulls back to look at your face. Then kisses the other one. Doesn’t pull back this time, just stays in his place and inhales. Smells you. “Fuck!” Curses. You want to say yes.

He doesn’t wait for your answer anyway. And you are glad. “Want them in my mouth Lil. Gonna suck them, okay? Gonna… fuck.” He gives up entirely. Gives up on talking. Explaining. Dives right into your tits. Takes one hardened bud in his mouth. And you find words. “Holy fuck Jimin... Oh god...” You nearly cry. Hands reaching his head. Fingers lacing through his blonde locks. You have sensitive nipples but this? His mouth does wonders apparently. His hot tongue swirls around your nipple. Sucks on them. Moans. Sucks your life out of you. Keeps groping the other one. Then takes the other nipple in mouth while squeezing the now free one. Kisses and sucks every inch of skin he can find on your tits. Lightly bites. Leaves your tits wet with his saliva. You like the feeling. Even love it when he starts sucking on your skin harder. Surely giving you marks.

“Fuck, you are so sensitive. Think you can cum like this?” Jimin asks so suddenly that you are beginning to be surprised again. It’s so out of blue. “What?” You ask through your whimpers. “Cum Lil. Can you cum while I suck on your tits?” Asks again. Doesn’t wait for your answer and goes back to his work. Well, you don’t think you’ll completely be able to do that. Without a single pressure on your clit or nothing close to your quivering hole. “I’m not… su…sure. Like I need... Jimin.” You tug from his hair. He moans. You don’t think he understand what you are trying to say. See, now Jimin will never cease to amaze you. Can read minds. Doesn’t say anything but completely hovers over you. Places one knee between your thighs. Presses. You shudder. Reel. Moan. Watch the way Jimin peeks at you again. One of your tits still in his mouth. Moaning against your nipple. Pops it out. Kisses your wet nipple and bites it lightly. Licks it.

“C’mon, go on. Rub your pussy on my knee.” Says against your tit before starting to suck on it again.

And of course you do. How are you to refuse such a demanding plea. Press his face more into your chest and start grinding your cunt on his knee. Desperate. Hard. Fast. And he keeps sucking your tits. Soaking them. Encourages you with grunts and groans. Vibrations he cause travel through your body like liquid fire. To your core and makes that knot in your tummy tighten. Tighten with every press of your cunt on his knee. Even though it’s through layers of clothing. With his every suck on your tit. And right at a moment when he bites little harsh on your right nipple that knot explodes. Making you cry for him. Your grip on his hair tighten. Nearly rip his hair off when he finally pops your nipple from his mouth. Stares into your flushed face. Smirks. Peppers some light kisses to your abused tits. Makes you flush with embarrassment.

You both take a moment. Jimin is still grabbing and holding your breasts. You are staring into the ceiling. Both of you taking deep breaths. Trying to calm down from your high. Jimin retrieves his hands from your breasts slowly. The stupor you were in breaking down. Shattering into little pieces, so you could see properly. Think properly again. And the very moment, unclouded thoughts occur in your mind, you sit back abruptly. Making Jimin do the same. Both of you inhaling a shaky yet deep breath. Just like that, you two fucked up again. It doesn’t make sense how you lose control. How he loses control.

You want to ask him why? See, now it was only you who reached a high and he didn’t. Does he want the same? Are you willing to give him that? If he doesn’t want that, why did he do that for you? Is this the same kind of situation where he was confused? No, he kept calling you Lil. Not Liya.

You stare at his face. His face is flushed still but calming down. Eyes starting to flash something else which is not desire. Regret perhaps. You want to ask million things.

“Don’t fucking run away Jimin.” That’s the only thing that leaves your mouth. He shakes his head at that. Blows a breath out.

“I won’t. Just sleep. We will talk.” He says. There’s no warmth or softness in his voice anymore. His voice isn’t husky or breathy. Just like the last time, he is very serious now. Only that he isn’t stuttering. Nor does he run away like you burn him. Still, he and you are both back on earth now. He stares at you for another hard minute. Then he climbs down from the bed.

“We will talk Lil. I promise.” Says before running away. Again.

You fucked up. Again.

…………………………………………………………………………………

“Okay for real young lady, I don’t buy anything you say.” Key screeches in your ear as you try to wipe the tables down. End your shift and go home. Key isn’t supposed to be here, and she’s annoying you so much. “Well, I don’t know what I should say to you then my dear best friend. Move out of the way please. I have works to do.” You nudge her out of your way with your hip. She scoffs. “You should tell me the truth bitch. What’s happening in your life? How come you miss so many lectures and where the hell are you going all that time?” She keeps trailing after you. From one table to another.

“Do you have a secret boyfriend or something? So, you fuck around with him and miss your lectures? Are You fucking crazy? Who’s going to pay for you to repeat the subjects….” Her nagging is becoming unbearable, and you are glad Chan interrupts you. “You gonna fail your subjects?” He asks with a look that’s torn between pissed and incredulous on his face. You take back the glad part. You groan. Throw the cleaning cloth on your hand onto the table. “No one boss. No one’s failing their classes. My best friend is just fucking dramatic.” You point your finger at her.

She gasps. See, dramatic. “Don’t talk to me like that you little brat. I’m worrying my life away here for you.” Turns to Chan. “She’s been going MIA for some time now. Doesn’t attend lectures. I can’t reach her. And she sometimes doesn’t come to work too. Doesn’t she Chan?” Starts nagging to him instead of you. Fine by you to be honest. This is the first time in a while you are here at your workplace at the same time with Chan and Key. You guess Chan hasn’t confessed his feelings for Key yet. She would tell you if he did. Surprisingly, you don’t feel much bitter about it now.

You found out that you can talk to Chan normally a few days ago. Without any hard feelings and not wanting to cry nor slap him. And now you are finding out that you can stay in the same room with both of them. It hasn’t been that long since your rejection. Just nearly a month but probably the things happening in your life makes the rest of your life problems insignificant.

“It’s only been couple of days. So, it’s just fine.” Chan answers Key’s question with a shrug. Doesn’t sit properly with Key apparently. “Oh, c’mon… How that’s not fucking concerning Chan. It’s very irresponsible of an employee to be unattended without prior-”

“Fuck Key. Are you my friend or enemy?” You interrupt her while sneaking a glance at Chan. He is unbothered. There’s a grin on his face. As if Key said the most adorable thing right now. Well, if that’s how he always looked at her, then you might have been blind. “That’s fine Key. She is just not an employee. We are kind of friends so, as long as you don’t disappear for like weeks and months that’s fine with me.” He says finally, looking between you and Key. Key sighs while you nod in assent.

“Well, that makes this situation even more concerning. As a friend of her you need be worried as I am. What if she planning to sell her kidney.” Key doesn’t want to accept defeat. She has been constantly nagging you lately. Nothing you say is believable anymore. You have said you are sick so many times that Yoon-hee, your favorite professor, told you that you can ask her help if your illness is terminal. They might think you’re dying at this rate. It’s reasonable and very fair that Key is worried. You would be too. Can’t tell her the real reason though.

“I’m just fine Key. Please stop worrying. And my kidneys are safe.” You pat your lower back before reaching for the cleaning cloth again. Look back at her. “I promise. If I really am in a problem, I will tell you. You know that already.” Say as you start to wipe down the tables. Miss the glance Key and Chan share.

“You will?” Key asks, finally accepting the defeat.

“I will.” You nod without looking at them.

“I meant it when I said we are friends, you know. You can ask for help if you want, my very hard-working employee.” Chan adds when he isn’t a part of this at all. You and he are not that close friends. You were once infatuated with him, but not anymore. Still, you nod. Say you know.

It’s better you figure things out soon before you fuck up things in this world as well. Now, after you officially ruined things in Jimin’s world, you want this switching to end as soon as possible. You’ll find a way. Yes. You will.

…………………………………………………………………………………

This is the most unproductive Jimin has been in his entire life. He was far better than this when he was a college fuck boy and didn’t give a damn about passing his subjects. Even then he did a better job than staring at his computer screen. Black. It has been exactly fifteen minutes since he sat here in his study. He has work to do, but can’t concentrate. His mind is everywhere. No, that’s a big lie. His mind isn’t everywhere but at two people. Two people who look exactly same but not at the same time.

Why did he allow that to happen. Not once, but twice. Did he really think you were Liya? No. He didn’t. Jimin found a simple answer for his questions after loads of thinking. He really is a fucking asshole. Just like you said. He knew what he was doing but still did. Knew it was wrong but threw morality out the window the moment he felt you. And he fucked up.

The day at the club, when he returned to your booth to find you and that jerk named Jungkook were gone. Gone for a fucking dance. Jimin had felt his guts twist with an unfamiliar rage. He wasn’t or isn’t the jealousy type. Besides, you weren’t his girlfriend or anyone else that mattered to him. Still, he found his legs working on their own as he drifted to the dance floor. Saw you with him. Smiling. Laughing. Felt the same pang he felt when he saw you with Taehyung that day earlier. Saw he turns you around. Touches you. And he wasn’t thinking at all when he started storming toward you. He had a good excuse in his mind. You were supposed to be Liya. Liya will never do that. And only she knows why. It didn’t matter though. What mattered only was that you were breaking the character, and he needed to cover it. Before you ruin everything.

Funny, how he was the one who ruined things afterwards. It was pure bliss when he felt your body against him. Simply, the moment he felt you he started to think with his dick. It’s simple as that. That’s what happened at both times. He did his best to stay away from you after the club. Doesn’t know why he felt that it was the best decision. That it would solve the problem. He, after all, kind of knew he would fuck up again, if he was to be with you. Just like he thought, he did. Fucked up. And what he did was cheating.

Jimin cringes visibly at his own thoughts. He left that life behind, didn’t he? When he met Liya. When he started his business. He left his playful life behind. He is not Taehyung; he stopped jumping into fire pits just because it’s fun. Those stupid decisions people make just because they feel good at the moment, always come back to bite in their asses. Exactly like now. Like Jimin is drowning in misery full of guilt and regret. Guilty toward Liya. Regret toward you. Because even if it’s for a little while Jimin knows you. Even if you and he may not have a proper tag on your relationship. It was fine. The relationship you had. It was fine. More than fine actually and he ruined it.

His miserable thoughts got startle out of him, making him jump on his seat when the door of the study room suddenly slammed open. He snaps his head to the door at the same time Liya barges in. That’s not very like her. She knows how to knock after all. And she looks wearied off. Jimin watches curiously as his girlfriend takes a seat. Slams her bag on the desk. Makes Jimin flinch.

“What’s going on?” He asks carefully.

“I missed my meeting with Owen Scott. With the ‘Owen Scott’. Yesterday. Because I slept through it and the deal ruined Jimin. Can you believe that? I lost this one chance to partner with Scott. My dad is going to kill me.” Liya vents. Jimin feels like she slaps him. She missed that meeting while, he was fondling with your breasts happily. Has to bite his tongue so he won’t say something stupid. Oh, the guilt starts to tear his conscience away.

“Oh! I mean, that’s bad but reach to him again….?” He says after carefully deciding that’s the best reply. Liya gives him an incredulous look. “Don’t talk like you don’t know business Jimin. If you missed, you missed. There’s no going back.” She slumps her shoulders. Then puts her hand on the desk. Let her head falls down between her hands.

“Who said that to you?” Jimin doesn’t think Liya is here to talk business. They rarely do that. Live in two different worlds. He wants her to go. This is really uncomfortable. How much of a dick he is. “My father of course. But that’s not the problem Jimin. I keep sleeping through the days. It happened more than one time, are you aware?” Liya raises her head back. To give Jimin an accusatory look. Jimin wasn’t in a good mood to begin with. And that mood starts to get worsen when Liya silently, but definitely accuses Jimin. She does that all the time. Even his guilty conscience starts to dissipate at her accusatory look.

“And that’s my fault? That you sleep through your meetings?” He feels like shit when he says that, however. It’s not his fault, to be fair. But still he knows what’s happening yet never tried to explain that to her. Maybe this is his chance to bring that subject up. He promised you he would talk to Liya. But after the club he felt too cowardly to face either of you. For different reasons.

Jimin feels heavy. Bile rising up his throat. He cheated on her. Their relationship might not be the best but still cheating never was something they had both done. Ever. Not even when he can’t remember when they last had sex.

Yes, that’s it. That’s why he was so out of control with you. Sexually deprived. Never felt the need to find a woman to satiate his needs since he was so busy. That, however, in the end doesn’t change the fact he is human. So doesn’t the fact it was wrong.

“No. How’s that your fault?” She questions back. Keeps her gaze on Jimin’s face. Makes him uneasy. God, he needs to come clean, doesn’t he? How though? This is a very complicated matter. “No, I should have woken you up.” He says timidly in the end. Voice barely a whisper. Liya certainly doesn’t expect that if the way her eyebrows raise is anything. Jimin can’t wake her up even if he wants to. And he doesn’t know what he should do. You and he will have to do something soon. Liya nods slightly. Says that it wasn’t his fault, and she doesn’t expect him to do that. Surely is about to say something else when Jimin beats her to it.

It’s now or never.

“Baby, are you sure you are just sleeping through days?” The term of endearment feels heavy on his tongue. She looks confuse for a moment. Her perfect brows pull together. “What do you mean?” Asks. “Uh… like... are you having weird dreams?” He praises himself for coming up with that.

“Like what kind of dreams?”

“I don’t know. Like any kind of dream. Vivid dreams I mean.” Waits hopefully for her answer. “No… No, I don’t dream at all, I think. It’s like I’m dead while I’m sleeping.” Says making Jimin feel even more miserable. How is he ever going to clear this mess. He just nods. “That’s good. I mean at least you are not having any bad dreams.” Says as he finally turns his computer on. Liya clears her throat again, however. Jimin thought she would leave, but of course that can’t be the reason why she is here. They don’t share their problems. She isn’t here to vent about her issues like she should.

“Well? You are not here to tell me your life sucks, are you?” Jimin pays his attention back to Liya, lips curling up slightly despite there’s nothing amusing happening. Liya blows a breath out before taking another one in. “No. I’m here to tell you that I can’t make it to the Hoseok’s party. Sorry baby.” Says without an ounce of regret in her voice or face. It’s Jimin’s turn to blow a breath out. He isn’t surprised at all. Nor is he hurt. It’s very expected from Liya. Just tilts his head up. Asks the reason simply.

“I just have to meet Min Jae for this dinner on New Year’s Eve. I’m so sorry but it’s so sudden baby. He only called me just this morning-”

“Don’t fucking lie Liya. You are not least bit sorry, and you never wanted to join me there at Hoseok’s at first place.” Jimin scoffs. There was a time he couldn’t stand Min Jae. The damn celebrity and the heartthrob of Seoul, South Korea. Doesn’t know since when he does not care. Liya flinches at his words. Or voice.

“Watch your tone and words Park Jimin. You don’t get to talk to me like that because you’re jealous. You’re too old to be jealous.” Liya says sternly as she stands up.

Jealous?

“I’m by no means fucking Jealous baby.” Jimin emphasizes the word fuck yet tones down his voice. Doesn’t want to fight. Not after he did something wrong. Feels like he has no right to do so. Liya stares at his face. “Good then. Just tell them I’m really sorry I couldn’t make it.” Takes her bag and walks to the door. Reaches the doorknob but then turns around again. “You know what Jimin? You should at least pretend you’re disappointed. You don’t look like you care at all.” Bites on to her bottom lip while waiting for Jimin’s answer.

See, now Jimin is wrong for everything he did yet Liya makes his blood boil with her stupid antics. She wants him to beg. All the time. Wants him to be the one who gives hundred percent. He happily did so once. When he thought he would be able to do forever without getting tired but then he did. He is fucking exhausted of that. Ever since that day he finally felt tired he and Liya started to crumble.

So, he scoffs. “You know what Liya? You should at least pretend that you’re sorry you couldn’t make it. You don’t care at all. And if you think I would beg, sorry Miss. Kim Liya, but I’m just fine by myself.”

…………………………………………………………………………………

“So….” You start after staring into each other’s faces for a solid five minutes. It’s getting awkward.

“So…” Jimin repeats you. Just sitting in a desk chair while you sit on the edge of the bed. In his bedroom again. You were so worried about this day to be honest. You partially expected him to start avoiding you despite his words. But he was here when you opened your eyes. And it was you who insisted on having this conversation as the first thing. That way your own nerves will not allow you to sweep the conversation back under the rug, just after you pulled it out. So, here you are. Gaping at your faces with no words leaving your mouths.

“We need to talk Jimin. You promised we would talk.” You pout at him. Unintentionally again. There’s a slight smile ghosting on Jimin’s lips, but he doesn’t really smile. “We are talking.” He says, gesturing between you. “You call this talking? I can’t believe you are in a five-year long relationship when this is your idea of talking.” You say with a huff. “Exactly. That’s why it does work.” Jimin mutters under his breath. You want to ask what he meant but that would certainly distract your subject of matter. So, you heavily sigh as you get to your feet. Approach him. He looks up at you. It’s not comfortable having this conversation while he looks at you like that. Reminds you of a time he stares at you just the same way through his lashes.

Okay stop!

“Did you talk with Liya bec-”

“I did and she, apparently doesn’t travel anywhere Lil. She is just sleeping. She thinks she sleeps like she is dead.”

“That can’t be though. If I’m here and she disappeared-”

“I know. But I already told you she can’t be waking up in a strange world since she never said a word about it. She said nothing because she isn’t going through what you are going through.” Jimin tells as he gets to his feet finally. Towering over you. You like that. “I don’t know what’s happening but she, Liya, doesn’t go anywhere. Or even if she does, she never woken up. She is asleep all these times you are here.” Explains further. Peers into your eyes. You do the same for a second before tearing your gaze away. This makes it worse. It makes this isn’t on Liya either. She isn’t going anywhere. She is asleep when this shift happens, and you are the only one who is awake. That means it happens while you are asleep. Not her. This is on you. Not her.

It feels hard to breathe again. “What do you think will happen if I fall asleep while she is still awake. Will us shift?” You ask, suddenly. Jimin pulls his brows together. Thinks for a bit. “I’m not sure. We haven’t tried that yet, have we? We can try that. I mean you can try falling asleep in middle of the day when she would be clearly awake?” Suggests. You nod.

“Yeah, that’s it. I’ll try that tomorrow.” Say like you finally found an answer when Jimin softly sighs.

“Whatever we find Lil, will not change anything. Even if this doesn’t happen while she is awake, it will happen again one day or another. Unless of course you two decide to compromise and change your sleeping schedules.” He says it as a joke, but you beam at him. A wide grin adorning your face. Jimin’s face softens at that. Shakes his head. Does that thing he always do when he is frustrated. Searching for answers from the above. Looks at you back and about to take his hands to his face when you sprint into action. Grabbing from his both wrists and surprising you both.

“Don’t do that. It turns you into a tomato.” You say since you already started it. A soft chuckle escapes Jimin’s mouth.

“Seriously?” Asks. You let his hands go. Say that you are serious, and he nods. Smiles. Almost like in pity. “That thing won’t work Lil. The sleep schedule thing. You know it’s the same thing, right? It’ll not make any difference… it’s not like one of you can sleep during the day or something. And I don’t think Liya will... anyway it’s stupid.” Jimin talks to you like you’re a child who lost her candy. Your smile falters at that. Of course, you know. It’s really stupid. Then you’re back at a lost.

This time it’s you who search for the answers in the white ceiling. It’s you who rub your face frustratingly before you turn your back to Jimin. Let your head fall down again and throw your hands on your hips. Feel like you want to cry all of a sudden. “Then what should we do Jimin? Keep going like this? Forever? I’m oh so fucking tired. I can’t keep doing this. I just want a normal life. And I don’t know how to-”

“Hey. Hey.” Jimin doesn’t turn you around to face him. Instead, he walks around you to face you. Gently tilt your face to his with your chin. And let go of you immediately afterwards. You pretend that doesn’t do any hurtful things to you. “We will find answers Lil. We will. I don’t know how, but we will.” Stares into your eyes. You do the same, let yourself get lost in his amber depths. Did he always have those eyes. Why do you feel warm. Cozy. Melting. Why do you feel like you travel into a forest at twilight. And then he smiles again, softly, making those amber depths disappear in his cheeks. You want to touch him. Cup his cheeks.

Nope. Not again!

You turn your head away from that bewitching gaze. Clear your throat. Take a step back. “So, what are we going to do until then Park? If it take like forever to find answers, if we turn old? No, I will not live to turn old. I’ll die from the exhaustion.” You whine. Bottom lip jutting out. Jimin chuckles. “We will find answers before you get grey hairs and will stop this. And until then…” Now he gapes at you intensely. No sign of a laugh on his face. You watch gears shift in his head. Takes his time and then gives a single nod. “Yes, until then you can at least have your normal life back.” Clarifies. Yet, nothing is clarified in your head. “What normal life? Like? What do you mean Park?” You pull your eyebrows together.

“Like you wake up in the morning and go to sleep at night, like normal people do. Unless you party hard at some nights. You are going to live a normal life even though there’s nothing normal in your life Spring Roll.” Jimin is stern. Looks like someone with a plan.

“Are you suggesting that I’m spending a whole day here and a whole day there. Is that so?”

“Yes.”

“How’s that gonna change anything? What about Liya? You want her to miss an entire day of her life? And what do you plan to tell her when she starts asking you about the previous day? What am I going to say to Key? She is already on my tail. I can’t miss my lectures Jimin. I can’t stay away from my job for a whole day.” You throw your hands in the air. Jimin surely isn’t someone with a plan. His plan is way stupider than yours.

“Okay slow down.” Jimin holds a finger in front of you to shut you up. “Well, first, we won’t do this for long. We will find a way to stop this before… I don’t know before uh… like the spring.” Says proudly when you gape at him in disbelief. Holds two fingers up. “Okay even before that. And second, for Liya, she didn’t remember a thing when you uh... that day at the club. You spent a day here and she was fine-”

“You don’t plan on telling her about me at all. Do you park? You just asked her if she is waking up in somewhere strange and when she said she doesn’t you let it at that?” You don’t appreciate that pathway.

“No. I didn’t, and I’ll not ask her anything Lil. Because that’s stupid. If she doesn’t know then she is good that way. No need to trouble her when she will not believe me anyway. And… trust me it’s better when she doesn’t remember a whole day and think everything is fine than waking up in a middle of the day and worrying about having a some fucking sleeping disorder.” Jimin let his hand fall down. Gaze on you. Expectant.

“Okay, so you are saying she is better sleeping a day away. Fine. Then what about me Jimin? What about my life. How-”

“You gonna get medical assistance.”

“I’m going to get what?”

“You are terribly ill that you need special consideration from your university. And your damn boss will understand that too.” He looks smug. Proud. Really do look like someone with a plan. You are not convinced, however.

“But that’s lying.” You say as trying to imagine how your life will be. You’ll have to lie to everyone. “You have a better idea Spring Roll?” He grabs from your shoulders suddenly. “Like you said Lil. You can’t stay awake through nights. You can’t keep giving stupid excuses. So, let’s give them something believable. And meanwhile let’s find a way.” Raises one of his eyebrows at you. Well, you have no other ideas let alone better ones. Maybe, just maybe this will work. But then it’s not like you can go and tell people you are sick and need special consideration. Expect them to rely on your verbal explanations.

“Well, I need proof to prove I’m sick Park.”

“Leave that to me. Just give me the details I want.” He grins. Let you go. You’re still not hundred percent convinced. Feel skeptical. Yet are willing to see what will happen. So, you nod. Sigh.

“Yeah. Let’s do this. It’s already fucked up anyway.”

He nods too. You both nod in unison. One problem is talked through. No answers but there is a plan, that might work. Or not. In that case, there’s only one thing is left to talk through. And for you, that is the scariest part. Makes your legs weak even before you start it. If the way Jimin gulps harsh is anything, you know he feels the same way. Still, you’ll have to talk this one too. Especially, since you’ll spend days here from now on.

“Um... well, then about what happened the other day… I... uh...” You are the one who start it first. Jimin encourages you to keep going with a slight nod and his furrowed brows. “I... I mean... it’s like I’m sexually dep-”

“Sexually deprived.” Jimin finishes for you. You suck in a deep breath. Fall into a deafening silence. Have no idea whether he completed your sentence or said it to you.

“I was sexually deprived Lil. I don’t remember when I last fucked.” He then lets you know that he indeed did the latter. You are about to ask how, when he gives the answer for that one as well. “Yes, I have a girlfriend but we both are so fucking busy. It just happened Lil but-”

“But it won’t happen again.” You complete it for him this time.

“Exactly. And it’s not happened because you look like her because, uh… I don’t know, you’re not. And it has everything to do with me being horny as fuck.” He is not looking at you. Just staring at the bed. As if this is the first time, he sees it. “And it’s so fucking wrong. I’ll resolve my problems, and I don’t want to think that I used you or something.” Gets done with bed and looks at you instead. “Ugh... this is so frustrating.” Finally rubs his face. You don’t stop him this time. “I fucking crossed a line Lil. I’m really sorry and it will not happen again.” Finishes. Now it’s your time.

You feel at a loss, however. Feel disappointed. Ridiculous considering you expected this. This is how it should be. Still, there’s a pang in your heart. A tangled ache. A piercing confusion. You force yourself to smile. Pretend that you’re fine. “Yeah, I get it. And it wasn’t completely on you Jimin. I said yes and like you, I’m sexually deprived too. And unlike you I don’t have a fucking boyfriend either.” You finally manage to say while blowing out a breath. This is fine. “So… that happened because, both of us were horny. Like extremely horny. That’s it and I’ll resolve my problems as well.” You agree. Not with the bottom of your heart. Something feel wrong. Extremely. Yet you continue anyway.

“I’m sorry too Park.” Chuckle very awkwardly. Wave your hand in front of you. You’re not looking at him either. “But like are we good though?” Take a sneaky glance at him. Catch the way he bob his head violently. “Of course, we are.” Affirms and gives you an awkward chuckle of his own.

“Great!” You keep forcing yourself to smile.

“Great...” He echoes.

“Um... then are we like friends?” You ask without thinking. What a stupid question. He thinks so too, apparently. Gapes at you. “Friends?” Inquires tentatively. You just keep peering at his adorable face. Leaves him to do nothing but answer your question.

“Yes. Yeah, fuck. Friends. We can be friends like… uh... yeah friends Lil. We are friends.” Concludes at last. Takes you by surprise when he is stretching his hand for you to shake.

Oh! It apparently aches.

It was your idea anyway. You take his hand. Shake.

“Friends it is. And we will not do anything that crosses the line again.” You seal the deal.

“We won’t.” Jimin squeezes your hand. Keeps it in his hold more than necessary and finally let go. And you’re certain this is the most disappointed you’ve ever been.

…………………………………………………………………………………

“Liya wmph be there a’ New Year’s Ee?” Taehyung asks through his mouthful of kimbap. Jimin peers at him over the printed report he’s been looking at while eating his lunch. “Liya what?” Jimin frowns at his friend.

“Yah! Don’t talk with your mouth full, moron.” Jin clicks his tongue at Taehyung. Taehyung sighs but swallows down his food before repeating what he said earlier.

“Liya won’t be there at New Year’s Eve? Seoyeon told me.” Even gives further explanation, though nobody asks.

“Oh, she won’t?” Hoseok perks up too, expectantly looking at Jimin. Jimin hates this. Just shrugs.

“Yeah, some dinner plans or something.” Says as nonchalantly as he can.

“With who? You’ll be there though, right?” Hoseok asks again at the moment Jimin is about go back to minding his own business. “Of course, I will. Why wouldn’t I Hobi?” Jimin gives him a tight-lipped smile, praying he would stop asking questions. He doesn’t, but Taehyung does.

“Liya was really weird that day. Is she okay? Like was her tummy actually hurting that day? Is that why she acted like that?” Taehyung blinks at Jimin. Jimin blinks at Taehyung. Jin butts in to save him. “Why would someone act so cheery when their stomach hurts? That’s fucking stupid Tae.” He says while searching for a paper serviette. Jimin almost nods in assent when Jin speaks again. “But she was weird. I mean not that I know her very well...” He doesn’t get to complete whatever he is saying when Hoseok snorts.

“Sorry.” He mumbles fast. Then point his chopsticks at Jimin. “But Hyung is right. Fuck dude. You and she have been together for five fucking years, and we knew each other all that time but she is a fucking mystery, you know. I mean no offense...” Looks carefully at Jimin.

“None taken.” Jimin finally gives up trying to review this stupid report and places it back on the table. Hoseok carries on happily. “Yeah, but I mean I was so surprised she joined us in a club? And then acted like she likes us so much?” He raises his eyebrows and tilts his face. Jin after all didn’t butt in to save him.

“Right? Exactly my point.” Taehyung agrees very enthusiastically for Jimin’s displeasure. “She even danced with that guy. What was his name Hobba? Your friend’s friend? With tats and eyebrow piercing?” He looks at Hoseok while pointing at his own eyebrow. Jimin feels the same unpleasant twist in his guts at the memory.

“Who Jungkook?” Hoseok asks back when Taehyung snaps his fingers, grinning. “Yeah. Jung Kook. She danced with him dude.” They all are looking at Jimin now. He doesn’t know what to say. Jin again butts in and definitely isn’t saving him.

“And then these two almost fucked in the dance floor. Liya? And Park fucking Jimin? I have never seen her somewhat like kiss you in the public Jimin. Was she possessed that day?” Jin finally has found the serviette he was looking for. Jimin sighs. Hardly. There’s a headache forming. “She was just fine, guys. Was in a good mood. That’s it.” Says wearily. He really wants his friends to drop this conversation.

“Yeah? So, she is back to her sour mood again. Back to dislike us again. To think that we are all bad influence on the-best-future- CEO- Jimin.” Hoseok says with an edge to his voice. Makes Jimin really uncomfortable. It’s true in a kind of way but not completely. Liya doesn’t think that way, just doesn’t like hanging out with them and that’s her choice. Still, Jimin feels the urge to defend. Defend who, he has no idea. Maybe himself. “She doesn’t think that way and she... I mean has no problem with you.” Says and stuffs his mouth with food.

“I think that’s the same thing. I mean we don’t care, it’s your personal life, but she really doesn't like us, Jiminie. That’s why she won’t come to the party as well.” Hoseok scoffs. That discomfort Jimin felt is turning into anger now. “Really Hobi? You said you don’t care but you certainly act like you do.” He puts the chopsticks down. Hoseok does the same. “I don’t. I’m just saying Jimin. No need to get so riled up. If you’re happy then we are happy. The question is, Are you happy?” Smiles at Jimin but it feels like a smile of pity.

“Yeah, yeah, happy boss happy life.” Taehyung quickly disrupts. Picks a kimbap and brings that to Hoseok’s mouth. He gives Taehyung a very judgmental look but eats it anyway. Makes Jimin sigh. He loves his friends. “I’m not your boss you fuckers! We are co- fucking owners. And I really don’t want you to think that way. I am happy, guys. I mean c’mon it’s just a party and who cares if she can’t make it.” Tries to laugh but fails.

“You should care.” Jin says noncommittally. Doesn’t even look at anyone. But everyone looks at him. “That’s your girlfriend of five years. We are your friends, and we don’t want to suddenly sit back to talk about walking in different paths with whatever we made till now, just because she hates us. Maybe you should care, Jiminie.” Finally looks at Jimin. Jimin feels a weird sensation his stomach. This is not the first time his friends brought something up like this. Not that they always do but sometimes they just let Jimin knows that he isn’t happy. Fuck them!

“Okay fuck. She will come. Since you all think it’s a huge deal that she can’t come, and it defines our relationship. Let me prove it.” Jimin blurts that out. Looks at everyone. Ignores the way all three of them saying he doesn’t have to prove anything to them.

“She will come guys. Hobi, count her in.”

Fuck, why did he say that. How old is he to play silly games. How on earth is he going to make Liya agrees to come.

…………………………………………………………………………………

Jimin stares out of his floor-to-ceiling office window. Sulking. Regretting his life decisions.

“Fuck!” Mutters to himself and sighs. Why did he say Liya would come? Why did he make a big deal out of it. Maybe he can just let it go. His friends won’t make it a huge deal if he joins them alone. They wouldn’t now, would they? Jimin groans loudly. Looks up. About to rub his face furiously when the tomato pops up in his head. Can’t help but chuckle. You are always so weirdly interesting.

He needs to block you out of his mind. Think about the problems he has instead of thinking about you. It’s very unintentional, however. You’ll pop up on his mind at most random times. Like now. Jimin puts his hands back. Refrains from making himself looking like a tomato. Wonders if you try sleeping in the day. See, can’t help it. Groans again. Starts pacing around only to stop dead in the track. You feel nauseous when he does that.

Wait what? What the actual fuck? You again?

This might look really ridiculous how he just stands in middle of his office. Mouth agape. What’s wrong with him? He needs to find a way to get Liya abandon her dinner and join him. Or if it doesn’t work, he will have to find another plan. He just needs to bring his girlfriend to that stupid party. So, his friends will not think his relationship is crumbling. He shouldn’t care. It’s stupid to try to worry about a fake healthy appearance of a relationship. But apparently, he does. And he needs to find a way. Needs to stop thinking about what you like and not.

He looks at the place that gives him answers all the time- the fucking ceiling. He always finds answers there.

A way to bring his girlfriend to the stupid party. Or find another way. Another way.

Wait. Another way? He has another way.

A huge grin breaks out on his face. Of course. Liya will never change her plans for him. He won’t either. But since he still needs to pretend, all he has to do is bring his girlfriend. Or someone who looks like his girlfriend. There he goes. He lets out a victorious noise. He’s going to ask you. You will agree. Because of course you will.

Besides, you two are friends now. Jimin thinks that’s extremely stupid. Your idea anyway. So, he will make the best of being friends with you. Even though something doesn’t sit right with him when he thinks you are friends now. There’s a disappointment in his heart. An ache. Still, this is the right thing and right way. He gives himself a few nods. He will ask you to help your friend. That’s what friends do. This strange ache and longing will go away. And when it does, he will have a good friend.

A friend from a star.

A friend who looks exactly like his girlfriend.

A friend who sounds so sweet when she comes.

A friend who has most beautiful fucking tits.

Still, friends. You said you are now friends. Fucking friends.

F.R.I.E.N.D.S.

…………………………………………………………………………………

Chapter index

Taglist- @chimmy-licious @smoljimjim @graydolan12

[ermdotorg]

i rewrote newt's death scene when i finished reading the books awhile back. it's basically the movie and book death combined in flashback form from a little safe haven au i ended up scraping.

i did have to watch the scene in the movie and read the scene in the book which was actually awful— but i think it came out okay despite the sobs i had to write it through.

lmk how you feel about it lol <3

cw: canon violence, mean words, death, and tragic gays

“Shut your mouth you shuck traitor.” Newt rasped, chest heaving with exhaustion as he sat atop of Thomas, eyes mad and bearing into him painfully, “Didn’t you read my note? You couldn’t do this one last, lousy thing for me? I hate you, I’ve always hated you!”

The pair began wrestling, Newt fighting to strangle him and Thomas holding the wrists of the other in an attempt to save himself. He knew he didn’t mean it, but every word felt like a bullet to his heart, “Newt, please, please stop.”

“You could’ve stopped them, the Creators, you could’ve figured out a way. But no! You had to keep going, try to save the world, be a hero. And you came into the Maze and never stopped! You only ever cared about yourself, admit it! Gotta be the one people remember, the one they worship! We should’ve tossed you right down the damn Box Hole!” Every word seemed to tire him further, but he kept going nonetheless, fighting Thomas with monstrous strength.

“I hate you Tommy!” he cried, “After everything I did for you, everything, you can’t even do the one bloody thing I ask? I don’t even want to look at your shuck ugly face!”

“Newt,” he muttered, pain overrun by fear, “I can’t-”

“I should rip your eyes out.” the sick boy seethed, bearing teeth, “Teach you a lesson in stupidity.” he paused, fighting Thomas’ grasp for a moment, “Told you about me jumping off the bloody walls, didn’t I?”

He nodded, entirely engulfed by terror as the other continued, “I hated that place Tommy. I hated every second of every day. And it was… all… your… fault!”

His friend suddenly dropped his arms and reached for the gun holstered on Thomas’ side, pressing the nose of it to his own temple as he squeezed his eyes shut, ready. Thomas shouted and lurched forwards, knocking it far across the pavement before shoving Newt off and scrambling to stand.

“Kill me Tommy!” Newt called hoarsely, struggling to his feet.

He shook his head violently as the other unveiled a knife from his belt, one he'd recognized as his own, “I– I can’t.”

“Make amends!” he screeched before hurling towards Thomas, the blade swinging in every direction as he narrowly avoided it, horrified at the words, at what the other wanted from him. “Repent for what you did! Kill me you shuck coward! Prove you can do the right thing. Put me out of my misery.”

He trembled as they circled one another, the weapon still clutched in the sick boy’s hand, “Newt maybe we can-”

“Shut up! Just Shut up! I trusted you, only you, with the note. Just do it!”

How could he possibly ask this of him? How could he say such things? “I can’t! I can’t.”

“Do it!”

“I can’t!”

Newt ran at him again, this time successfully throwing both of them to the ground as he fought to drill a knife into the flesh over Thomas' heart. He gripped his friend's wrists, groaning with effort as the other fought against him, “Kill me before I become one of those cannibal monsters!”

“I can’t.” he rasped, attention locked on the losing battle between them. He felt the tip of the blade push into his skin, and he cried out as it shoved further in. He felt the pain, the sting of something foreign breaking through flesh, but nothing could compare to the fear of not being able to hold his friend off any longer.

Suddenly Newt released his hold, the weapon thrown a few feet to their right as Thomas hissed in pain, looking up to see his friend examining their state, eyes clear. “I’m so– I’m sorry Tommy.”

“‘Ts okay, it’s okay Newt.” he murmured, hands still clenched around the others forearms as Newt gripped at his shoulder, breathing heavily. The clarity vanished once more, sickness returning and bidding the blonde to jump off and reach for the blade again. Thomas was on his feet as the other got ahold of the weapon, and there they stood, a short distance between them that felt like worlds away.

“Kill me, or I’ll kill you.” Newt rasped, every word looking painful, “Kill me! Do it!”

“Newt…”

“Do it before I become one of them!”

“I-” he bit down a sob, taking in the other and praying for Minho to return quickly, “I can’t.”

Newt stepped to him, slowly, like a predator stalking its prey, “Kill me.”

Thomas shook his head, unmoving despite the urge. Newt closed the distance until they stood less than a foot apart, the weapon held out at Newt’s side, “Kill me, Tommy.”

“No.” he muttered.

“Kill me!” he shouted, splattering spit over Thomas’ face. It seemed as though it took all of Newt’s efforts to keep himself still, his entire body trembled violently, until it suddenly fell still. Newt met his eyes, which had found sanity once more, and in the lowest, most pitiful voice he whispered, “Please, Tommy. Please.”

He yearned for mercy, and Thomas wanted to grant him it, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t live without him, he couldn’t have done anything without him. He needed him. “Newt I can’t, you’re my–”

Newt gave a guttural cry as the Flare overtook him again, raising the knife which Thomas barely blocked, throwing the blonde away from him as he stepped back, putting as much distance between them as he could. Newt seemed to have lost his voice, because he only watched him with animalistic rage as he turned to face him once more.

Without a word he lunged, slashing the blade over and over until finally they collided, sharp gasps sounding from both of them as they met in an embrace. Thomas wrapped his arms around the other, just for a moment, before he’d have to continue on fighting him until their friends returned with the Serum.

Newt fell still though, ragged breaths turned mute as he leaned away a bit. Thomas pulled back, staring into the boy’s face before turning his gaze down to see the butt of the knife sticking out from Newt's chest, the sheen of metal concealed in his flesh.

[lewkwoodnco]

Hii I wanted to request Anthony Lockwood×fem!reader with the song "How you get the girl." With them being friends and her being there when he opened the agency. All of them are on a case, and she almost gets ghost touched, so the drive home is very intense, then Lockwood gets mad at her for being reckless, she doesn't want to argue with him so she just goes to sleep crying, the next week Lockwood avoids her, and he sees a nightmare about her dying, so he pushes her even further away. She thinks that he is in love with Lucy because he is avoiding her and spending more time with Lucy. So she leaves the agency, and Anthony doesn't stop her because he thinks he is doing the right thing for her. Lucy and George miss the reader because they're very good friends, so they persuade Lockwood to tell the reader how he feels and bring her back, but Lockwood doesn't listen because he thinks it's for the better. Meanwhile, the reader gets very depressed because she misses them. After months of missing them, she can't do it anymore and tries to drown herself, but Lucy and George find her, so she gets angry at them and leaves. Lucy and George tell everything to Lockwood, who can't do it anymore. So he goes to the reader's house to confess and get her back.

How You Get the Girl - Lockwood x Reader

A/N: wooooo I’ve taken a long break from angst and this fic scratched all my itches hheheheh and in honour of 1989 TV!!! TW brief suicidal mentions but I try not to go into much detail, and goodnight god I need to sleeeeep wc: 4.8k

The four of them were in a cemetery, tasked to tackle three confirmed Lurkers. They were grateful it wasn't more, what with only half of them having decent Sight, but she was starting to feel bored, prodding the pebbles in the soil like some makeshift game, penned inside her iron chains near the gate. Lucy was also inside a different set of chains, but hers was inside the cemetery, where all the action was, and where she could somewhat help to look for the Sources. She had been more than ready to be the one standing nearer to the gate, but she was better at scaling walls so it was only logical to have her be the one inside in case...in case something went wrong with the gate.

Still, if George's yelling was any indication, they'd just found the second source, so it wouldn't be much longer now. They'd find the last source, pack up, and leave this dimly lit place which made her stomach churn.

"Where's the last one? I don't -" Lucy's scream tore into the night sky, cutting Lockwood off. She nearly fell over her rapier as she stumbled to her feet, hands growing clammy as she squinted through the cemetery's fog. She had never heard Lucy scream, let alone one filled with so much terror. Her mouth felt like rubber as she listened for something, anything, but was deafened by her heart pounding in her ears. Nothing. It was eerily quiet, as if none of them were there. She called out to her friends. Still nothing. She tried not to think about the last time Lockwood had been this quiet on a case. Turns out, he wasn't quite as chatty when bleeding out from a gunshot wound. Something similar must have happened now. His knees were probably buckling under himself right now, exhaling his last breath, as she stayed behind her chains like a coward. She heard a forlorn whisper - her own, even though she didn't register herself speaking.

"Lockwood. Lockwood?"

He was dead. She didn't know why, or how, but in that moment she knew for a fact that he was dead, or dying, and no one could bear to tell her. Sod the chains.

She tentatively stepped out of the circle, swallowing as her nausea increased tenfold. The crunch of the gravel beneath her boots seemed too loud for a night as quiet as this. The silence emanating solidified with every step she took, until the absence began to feel like something tangible. Her thoughts were running ahead of her, taunting her, preparing her for the worst sight imaginable. George with his head smashed upon? Lucy with her throat slashed? Lockwood, impaled on his own rapier?

She felt a prickling at the back of her neck, the kind that comes when a Visitor is too close. She lashed behind herself clumsily, rapier suddenly as bulky and unfamiliar as it was years back. She’d been in far more life-threatening situations, and yet now was the time she chose to have all her skills fly out of the window.

She felt a harsh jerk at her left elbow, and for the second time that night, she had an unpleasant swooping sensation of uncertainty twist her stomach. Fire spluttered inches from her face and she flinched, bumping into Lockwood, whose fingers had slipped from the crook of her elbow to her wrist. He looked around wildly, pulling his rapier back defensively, before she heard an unpleasant screech as her ears popped. Panic seeped out of her as she readjusted to the real world, becoming increasingly aware of his grip on her pulse. His hair was messed up and the side of his face glittered with soot, but he seemed too busy struggling with something himself to speak. He looked just as disconcerted as she felt, but the longer he observed her with trepidation in his eyes, she felt that it had more to do with her than the Lurkers.

“They...found the source?” She asked breathlessly, anything to break the silence.

“...yes.” He bit out, and she was thrown off by the venom in his voice. There was something different about him, something surlier. George gave a shout from behind and Lockwood snapped out of it, letting go of her wrist and moving away. By the time her wits had sufficiently returned, he was already finishing up some paperwork and George and Lucy had just finished loading their supplies into the cab. She tried to catch Lockwood's eye as he walked towards them, but he seemed to be aggressively avoiding her gaze. The crushing feeling was back. The cab ride was no less easy.

“Were you ghost-locked?” Lucy had picked up that something was off and she had the foresight to sit up front with the driver, while George was stuck between them. Lockwood, being Lockwood, wasn't about to wait until they reached home to start on her.

“No.” Couldn’t even see the bloody thing, she wanted to add, but she felt it wouldn’t help her case.

“Drawn out by the visitor?”

“No.” She felt the hot prick of shameful tears behind her eyes as she cradled her forehead. What had gotten into her? She had been embarrassingly paralysed for no good reason, rapier slack in her hand like an amateur trainee who couldn’t tell one end from the other.

“You of all people should know to stay within the chains. You know how little you can see. This isn’t your first Lurker - “

“I heard noises, and some screaming, and then it was dead quiet. I thought something terrible had happened.”

"What screaming?" It was harder for Lucy to follow the conversation from the front, but she still tried earnestly.

Her response died at her lips as she caught George's equally confused glance. The realisation dawned on her unpleasantly. Of course no one knew what she was talking about. There was no screaming. She should have known better, she did know better: Lurkers were notorious for causing visual and auditory hallucinations. Lockwood didn't wait for an answer, and pressed on heatedly.

“Even if she had screamed, your first instinct is to abandon your only form of protection? You’re not a newbie, L/N. So why I am I having to spell this out for you?”

“Spell what out for me?” It was a little more vicious than what the rest were accustomed to seeing, especially since very little of Lockwood riled her up this much after working with him for so long. But he hadn’t referred to her by her surname for years, and it stung.

“You could have died! You nearly did die. Never, have I ever seen a disregard for personal safety so deplorable. Really, what were you thinking?”

She rests her head against the cold window, the rattling a welcome relief to her pounding head, her exhaustion finally catching up to her, her words like loose marbles on her tongue. “I…I don’t know. I wasn’t- I was just…I wasn’t thinking.”

“Clearly.”

As far as misunderstandings went, theirs never went this far. Lockwood was an open book to her, and where he was stubborn she was even-tempered enough to knock some sense into him before things escalated this far. But this was new territory. She had never seen him this angry before and certainly never towards her, and she was too weak to shoulder his anger bravely. She could see the irritation behind the tension in his shoulders as he stabbed his rapier into their rapier stand near the front door, and felt her heart fold within itself even more. He jerked towards her like there was something he wanted to stay. A million words and feelings raced across his face. She opened her mouth, willing her fatigued mind to say something to patch the rift.

“I’m sorry.” She held her breath. “I didn’t mean to make you worry.”

Any other day, he would have sighed, maybe held off for a second or two, before pulling her into a half hug or ruffling her hair, and dragging her to the kitchen. Because where Lockwood was smooth and charismatic, she was clunky with words and sometimes she couldn’t find the right ones. But with Lockwood, she didn’t need to. He would take one look in her eyes and pluck the thought out with devastating grace. It was her and Lockwood, Lockwood and her, forever scampering to each other’s rooms across the hallway to tell the other about their latest inane thought, until George yelled at them to quit it.

But today was not any other day.

“If you pull a stunt like this again…I don’t know if I could trust you enough to stay safe on cases.”

Her voice was an ugly croak. “…what?”

“Y/N…I cannot, in good conscience, entertain or enable you in this-this suicidal-“

“Lockwood, it was an accident. You know that, right?”

“That’s besides the-“

“You can’t possibly think I did this on purpose!”

“I don’t know.”

His eyes dropped, and she felt tears stinging her eyes again. “You...don’t...know.” She echoed him distantly, turning over each syllable on her tongue carefully, voice as hollow as his. “You don’t know…what? You don’t know…me?”

Flashes of the life they built together ran through her mind. Patiently dusting the frames that cluttered the walls. Broaching the idea of starting an agency. Standing hours in line at DEPRAC to register said agency. Going to Arif’s for the first time. Weeks of singed hair and smoky air as they relentlessly shortlisted the most cost-effective suppliers for their kits. Getting over her first breakup and watching him laugh as she swore off dating forever. Cycling indoors on a rainy afternoon just for the hell of it, while George nagged at them incessantly. Buying a cake the day their paperwork was approved and it being smeared on DEPRAC’s certificate within a minute of it being cut. Getting yelled at by Barnes for the first time. Getting injured for the first time and having him excessively fuss over the cut. Arguing about their noses while waiting for their cab in the cold after a case (he insists they’re the same, and she disagrees, partly because she isn’t sure if she could handle knowing that). Framing their first (less than complimentary) news article. Him putting the kettle on in the mornings so that it’s just the right temperature by the time she comes down to the kitchen.

Somewhere along the line, she became acutely aware that the glow she felt watching him nibble at toast in bright spirits after a long case wasn’t completely normal, but then she forgot, because it didn’t matter at the time. But now it felt like it should.

He swallowed with a resolute set to his jaw that told her he wasn’t going to change his mind anytime soon. She felt a tremor run through her hand, a sudden urge to reach out and clench the lapels of his coat, to hold on to the misty silhouette of a friend who was quickly dissolving into thin air.

And then he was gone, and she was alone, and the rift deepened and gaped its visceral jaws in front of her, threatening to swallow her whole. She numbly got dressed for bed, forgetting about the slice on her forearm until she dragged it across her sheets. It smarted, but there was a comfort in the irritation and rawness.

That night, she dreamt of bicycles rolling along on hardwood floors, the shadows the library fire cast in the grooves of Lockwood's face, and rough walls she couldn't scale. She didn't know when she started to cry.

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

"So we all slept like shit. Good to know."

George walked into an uncharacteristically silent kitchen. Lucy was glumly stirring her tea, Lockwood favoured the newspaper over breakfast that morning, and she had a plate of buttered toast in front of her that she kept forgetting about. "At least the two of you had the chains for, er, most of it."

"Please. It was just as bad inside the chains. I kept hearing my teammates die over, and over, and..." She covered Lucy's hand with one of her own, gently removing her spoon.

Breakfast was a sorry affair, and the rest of the week didn't fare much better either, and things reached a breaking point on Sunday. Lockwood shut himself up in the library to get their files and invoices straightened out. There we go, another first: first morning they didn't speak a word to each other. Lucy was busy with rapier practice and George went off to the Archives, so she decided to head out for some fresh air. She came home around lunchtime. George wasn't back yet, but she couldn't hear the jets going off in the basement. She crept upstairs, her stomach twisting at the sight in Lockwood's room.

He was seated on his bed, concerningly pale, talking to Lucy in a low voice. The scene looked so intimate she felt like an intruder just watching them. She tapped on his door, and their heads jumped apart.

"Everything okay?" She tried to keep her tone light, but Lucy's grave face and Lockwood still pointedly looking away didn't help. Lucy gave him a not-so-subtle kick and he grimaced. Her face fell.

"Sorry, I...didn't mean to intrude."

"No, no, it was nothing. We were just talking about yesterday's case. Right, Lockwood?"

"I'll just go -"

"Luce, mind helping me pack the chains?" He held out a duffel bag. The duffel bag he always gave her, not Lucy, to pack the chains. To her credit, Lucy didn't seem much happier than her either, and she snatches the bag from him in a huff. As Lucy walks away, she wonders what it must be like to be loved by Anthony Lockwood. He stands up and starts to shift around his room, fiddling with odds and ends; but curiously, he hasn't asked her to leave.

"I can't - " Her words failed her, but she gritted her teeth and forced them out anyway, the hard edge in her voice giving way to a weak whisper. "I can't stand this. You can't keep freezing me out."

"I don't know what you're talking about. What I do know is that we have a job at 135 Manilla Street and if you don't feel up for it..."

She didn't finish his sentence. She wasn't going to give him the satisfaction. She wasn't going to play into his emotionally manipulative hands like putty. Lucy awkwardly walked out of the room.

"...maybe you shouldn't come."

For the first time in nearly 18 hours, he finally looked at her, but nothing could have prepared her for the contempt he held.

"Don't be ridiculous." "Of course I'm coming."

"Actually, I was just discussing this with Lu-" A heavy boot chucked from the attic narrowly missed Lockwood's head. "I came to the decision, after talking with Luce, that maybe it's best you don't come tonight. I don't want a repeat of yesterday."

"Well, I'm sorry you feel that way, because I'm coming. This is my job." Lockwood didn't seem to appreciate that in the same way she did. She was distantly aware of George calling out into the house, and Lockwood slammed the stack of books he was gathering onto his desk in response. Anger seemed to be the only emotion he could express after last night.

"Why can't you just listen for once? Why must you always be so...so difficult?"

"I'm not some possession for you to do with as you please! You yell at me, ignore me, scorn me, now lock me up just because you've decided you don't want to look at me?"

"Enough." There was a warning hidden in the tone of his voice as he started to close his door, but she wasn't done. Some fragmented fracture of Lockwood still cared about her, cared about his awful behaviour, and by God was she going to shake that out of him.

"What do I care? Keeping secrets behind locked doors is all you're good at anyway."

He froze just as the door was a fraction of an inch away from closing, a deadly quiet settling over the house. Even the rustling in the kitchen stopped.

“Look, I didn’t want to have to this.” Oh, he’s most definitely seeing red now. “But I am your employer, Miss L/N, and it is for me to decide which cases you do or do not go for.”

"So...this is just what we're going to do for the next...forever? I'll never go on a case again just because you have some weird problem with it? I'll just -" She let out a harsh bark of laughter, suddenly manic with panic. "I'll just leave then, shall I? Get out of your hair, for good?"

"I didn't say that."

“Don’t. Don’t. Don’t do this, Lockwood.” Her breath was coming in embarrassingly agitated now. Was the air thinning? Her head was spinning like she might pass out. She pushed against the door with ore force than she needed, meeting surprisingly little resistance. He was standing woodenly, eyes unseeing, and yet she felt that was the most honest he had been since the previous night. She looks at him, and for the first time, she wonders what he’s thinking about.

"Fine. Be like that, then." She wants to reach out, beg him to want her to stay, but instead she pulls herself away. She opens drawers and cabinets and pours clothes and misery into her worn suitcase. Lucy stands hopelessly in the doorway and George is whispering something furious to Lockwood, who just watches her stonily. A part of her feels stupid, as stupid as the night before, like she had lost some race in taking this long to realise she was hoping, praying, waiting for nothing. As she leaves, George searches her face and pats her shoulder awkwardly. When she reaches the front door, a movement in the shadows makes her jump.

"He's just being an arse. You know that. Just wait a few days. Please.”

Lucy. Sweet Lucy. Sweet, well-meaning Lucy who was better than the lot of them. She was going to miss her the most. She told her as much, but Lucy didn’t seem amused.

“You don't have to leave." She pulled Lucy into a hug, keeping her bitterness barely at bay.

"Oh, Luce. What else can I do?"

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

She lives in a cold, cramped flat at the edge of civilisation, away from anyone's eyes. Away from Lockwood's cold, dead eyes. Some days she reads the paper, and every time she tries to force herself to read it as Lockwood would. She stays in the bed for the first week, but her savings are only so little, and eventually she starts working again. Too frail to set out as an independent agent, she signs on part-time with Fittes. She doesn't bother to get to know her teammates. Kipps is unexpectedly kind to her in ways he would rather die than acknowledge. She doesn't stick around long enough to get checked up by their medics after cases.

She returns to her dimly lit cavern and clumsily bandages her cut alone with none of his attention to detail. She drags her palm weakly across her eyes and tries to remember her friends' faces. Did Lucy's bob end at her chin, or her clavicles? How big were the lenses of George's glasses? Lockwood is a mist that colours her new life. Turns out, life is a lot more depressing without George's propensity for intellectual name-calling and Lucy's aggressively positive spirit. Sometimes she catches herself taking her tea the way Lockwood does, and she wonders where Lockwood ends and where she begins.

She goes to sleep wishing she had never met him, and wakes up with a million things to tell him. She sees the occasional silhouette wandering the street as she draws her curtains and lets her heart pretend it's him. She fumbles with her love for him, not knowing where, or how, to put it down. Day in and day out, her yearning threatens to consume her entirely.

One night, after a case at a bridge over the Thames, she runs into George and Lucy, and it's the most alive she's ever felt since she left. They want to hear about her but she brushes it off immediately: she wants to hear everything and anything about 35 Portland Row and its inhabitants.

"He's bloody awful lately. He's too quiet, and he keeps staring out of windows like he's waiting for something, even at night. George had to knock him out with cough syrup to stop him from coming tonight; he's wasting away. Of course, George occasionally forces some food down his throat and wrestles him into his bed every once in a while, but..." Lucy worries her bottom lip and she feels her stomach sink. "I don't know how much longer this can last."

"I keep telling him to reach out to you -"

"Reach out to me? Do you know where I live?"

George exchanges a look with Lucy. "Well, not exactly, but it took Lockwood all but half a day to find out. Not that he'll tell us. Coherent speech is...it's becoming a bit of a struggle for him. Either way, I have no idea what's keeping him from apologising when he's clearly so cut up about it."

After they leave, she replays the conversation in her head while waiting to be dismissed, trying to extract as much meaning as she could from their words. She thinks about the dark apartment waiting for her. An empty flat. An empty life. Before she realises, she's neck deep in the Thames, a step away from walking off the sea bed. Freedom from this pain, from these shackles which bound her to earthly woes, was deliciously close. She closes her eyes and takes the final step, water rushing in to dull her hyperactive senses.

But the peace didn't last long. Suddenly, she felt hands hauling her out of her cool sanctuary, and desperate panting coupled with water splashing. The water in her lungs hurt and she felt like a sack of potatoes. After much painful gagging and coughing, she gathered her wits. Lucy was apprehensively leaning over her, and she could hear George agitatedly pacing and muttering behind them.

"I thought you looked weird. Your eyes were too bright."

"...dead man walking. I'm gonna kill him. I'm gonna rip his throat out..."

"Come home with us, Y/N. Just for tonight. Please."

She looks at Lucy, suddenly furious at her for interfering. What did she know? This wasn't some small tiff where she and Lockwood could just hug and make up. She was better off without them. She dodges Lucy's concern and outstretched hand, shakily rising to her feet.

"If it was as simple as coming home, believe me - I would have returned a long time ago."

"Y/N..."

"I don't need you looking after me! I'm fine alone. Just go home, Lucy." Shame was beginning to fester inside of her. "Just go home."

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

Hell is beating at her windows when she wakes up. The rain comes down hard and fast in sheets, and for the first time, she feels grateful to have this roof, however old, over her head. She curls up at her window with a large cup of coffee, watching the heavens rage.

Suddenly, her head jerks towards the front door. She listens carefully for a moment, but only hears the wind howling through some hidden draft. And yet, her feet are walking her towards the door. She feels it in her bones the way she hasn't felt it since that fateful night months back. Something new is waiting for her.

She opens the door to a drenched man with his fist poised, ready to knock. It takes her a few blinks to reconcile the image of the man in front of her with the Lockwood she now only hazily remembered. They hadn't been exaggerating; he really did look awful. His skin was dull and stretched grotesquely over his bones, and his eyes look positively bruised. He was aggressively shivering in the rain, no umbrella in sight. She instinctively stepped back and he gratefully entered, rubbing his hands together for some warmth.

"Are you insane? What are you doing here?"

"I know what happened last night."

She subconsciously withdrew within herself. "George told you?"

"Lucy, actually. George and I haven't been on the best of terms lately, but, as of now, he's stopped speaking to me entirely."

"Ah." A small part of her flickered sympathetically. She remembered how much George meant to Lockwood, and vice versa, but the memory felt so unused, as if it were from a different life.

If he notices how dismal her flat is, he doesn't let on. In fact, he only seems interested in looking at her, drinking her in like a man starved. She allows it, but only for a while, and only because it's too big of a relief to have him standing here, larger than life, right in front of her. Starving, yes; sleep-deprived, yes; but very much alive.

"Come now, Y/N. Don't look at me like that."

"It's been a very long six months. I'll look at you however I want."

He sighs and shifts her chair closer to her and, as if inspired by some sudden bout of insanity, takes her hand, but doesn't seem to know exactly what to do with it.

"Lucy and George have been yelling at me to tell you the truth for ages now, but...I was too afraid. I was a coward. But after my earful from George last night...I realised you were just as scared as I was. Probably even more, all alone. And I'm trying to find it in me to be brave enough for the both of us." She listens cautiously, too burnt to fully believe.

He laces his fingers into her own, and brings it up to his face tenderly. "Remember how it used to be? Me and you, you and me. Just the two of us against the rest of the world." He fiddles with his pocket, and she hears a crinkling of brittle newspaper. It's their first picture in the papers. George, with significantly fewer wrinkles, is standing off to one side. Lockwood is trying and failing to look professional, which probably has to do with the way she's thrown her arms around his neck and is pressing a half-kiss to his cheekbone. She couldn't help it; she was just so proud of him. That's the photo to gets her to smile for the first time in months.

His own smile wobbles as he watches her, then slides off entirely, leaving behind an Anthony Lockwood that looks much older than his years.

"I don't know what I was thinking that day. I had a really bad string of nightmares that week where...where your lips would be blue and your pulse long gone by the time I reached. It was such a close shave, I can't help but think..." She wants to reach out and smooth the crease in his brow. "What if I were a second late?"

"But you weren't. Isn't that all that matters?"

A glimmer of a smile skimmed his face. "Yeah, well, Lucy told me as much."

"Smart girl."

"But I didn't listen. I tried - god, I tried - but I couldn't. I thought you would be safer without me. So when you started saying you'd leave, this awful seed was planted in my head, and I was angry, but also madly in love with you, and I didn't know how to say any of it."

A tear falls on their joined hands. "That evening really messed me up, Lockwood. It screwed with my head big time."

"I know." There was a rush in his voice that mirrored the same kind of rush that had flitted through her body for the past six months. "And I don't expect you to ever forgive me. I'll spend the rest of my life fixing the damage I've done. But...but...if somewhere down the road...you find it in your big heart to forgive me and my sins...I might just love you. No more secrets or locked doors; I'm done with them. Y/N L/N, I'm ready to love you wildly and freely."

First time she didn't absolutely hate him saying her last name.

[raelle-writing]

Jin and the Dichotomy of Cowardice and Bravery

Yes I know the title is esoteric, bear with me. I've been thinking a lot about how in episode one, Jin calls himself a coward when he's talking to Phee.

It's possible he was saying that just to get Phee to leave him alone, but honestly he seems to believe it. And he certainly has some avoidance tactics. Running off to the US and never coming back isn't the healthiest of coping mechanisms. And we still don't know exactly what he's running from. Phee? What happened to Non? His friends who don't seem to care much about him? All of the above?

It seems that Jin self-identifies as a coward, which is interesting because when he's put in stressful situations and danger, he acts in an extremely brave manner. He doesn't show any signs of hiding or running away when faced with danger.

When they find Por in the woods, Jin is one of the first people to go up and check on him, instead of pausing/freezing and freaking out like many of the others. He and Phee are the ones who wrangle the others to help Por, and find the saw.

Throughout the next episodes, Jin is one of the ones trying to keep people on track. He seems relatively calm in the face of all of it, and focused on trying to get them out/get them help.

He's also the one most willing to help the newbies investigate the weird stuff happening, instead of shutting them out like a lot of the others from the original group. He's the one who stops Tee from destroying the tape, jumping into a fight without second thought.

He's also the one who goes out first to lift the shirt off Deng's body, and then later goes back to cover it with a sheet when the others are unsettled by it.

And throughout all of this, he's the one who comforts the others when they need it, and offers them physical reassurance when they're freaking out.

He's also one of the ones Tan calls for when he comes back injured, and he's one of the ones Phee asks to come help him look for Top after he's gone missing. He's clearly someone the others see as a really steady presence, since he seems to be top of mind when things go to hell.

Jin is also not at all hesitant to go into the temple. He's the one Tan clings to, clearly afraid when they enter. He's freaked out when the ghost attacks him, but doesn't run. In fact he checks on Tan before the ghost swings the ax at him.

He talks about being scared when he's in the coffin with Phee, but that's after he's already done so many brave things...

All of this makes me wonder - why does Jin see himself as a coward? Is it because he didn't stand up to his friends more about Non? Is it because he's running from things with Phee? Is there something that happened in their past that makes Jin feel like a coward?

It's very interesting from the outside perspective, and makes me wonder even more about what happened in the past. Because we know something took away Jin's happy smile and turned him into someone much more dispassionate and snarky. But we still don't exactly know what.

We also don't know why, if Jin liked Non so much and didn't like how his friends treated him, Jin is still friends with all of the bullies. Maybe that's the core of why he thinks he's a coward.

I don't know if I have a concrete thought to complete this, I just find the dichotomy of how Jin sees himself, versus how he actually acts in the series. It's fascinating to see and adds a lot of depth to his character and I can't wait to see how he's developed further!

[acequinz]

Angst mode.

Mind controlled Fang Duobing attacking Li Lianhua who manages to avoid attacks and Di Feisheng who steps in the middle to try and stop their XiaoBao but they don't know what's wrong.

By the time they figure out, Fang Duobing has managed to stab Di Feisheng and as soon as the blood starts looking Fang Duobing snaps back to himself, his hands covered in A-fei's blood.

Li Lianhua frets over his lover/rival trying to save him, pointing a sword at Fang Duobing's neck scared and panicked as he tries to look for signs that he is still being controlled.

Bonus angst this is pre-difanghua, so only DiHua are dating right now, so Fang Duobing feels extra guilty and horrible.

He stays just long enough to make sure Di Feisheng is fine. Briefly hears Li Lianhua crack a joke but he doesn't acknowledge it, lost in his mind, his own sword kept at the door of the Lianhualou.

Once he knows Di Feisheng is fine, he slips away, self-hatred burning in his gut like an ugly monster and he runs away, goes home and hands over his sword to his mother.

He locks himself up, because he can't bear to be seen, to see others unable to trust even himself as he recalls the events over and over again.

He Xiaohi is done giving him space the moment he agrees to take over the business and marry whoever she wants him to marry.

Sure she has been pestering him to make that choice but she wanted her son to want those things not grab them cause he was heartbroken. No son of hers is going to be a coward and run away from problems.

So she is very relieved and immediately sends DiHua to Fang Duobing's bedchamber the moment they arrive.

Li Lianhua worrying because she didn't even offer tea or any formalities so Xiaobao must be doing terrible, it does not help that Di Feisheng himself has been looking miserable and almost grief stricken since the fight.

They are going to fix this and Li Lianhua will make sure of it.

They did not let him run away so how could he let them have that luxury?

[marloree]

𝓐𝓵𝔀𝓪𝔂𝓼 𝓫𝔂 𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓻 𝓼𝓲𝓭𝓮

Pairing: Soobin × Reader

Genre: angst

Word count: 0.78k

Throughout your life, you felt like you always were running away. From your problems, from your friends, from yourself. You felt like a traitor in your own skin sometimes: always making up excuses, saying that "it's for the better".

But was it really for the unknown better or were you just too much of a coward? Was it right to always try to escape, to ignore and shut out everyone and everything? You never thought it was, but you never knew how to act differently, "properly", either. You never knew the "right" way.

Why couldn't you just be like everyone else, live your life peacefully, without having to struggle to even keep up the mininum contact? Sometimes you felt like your life would just come to a stop, your energy completely disappearing, making you unable to properly respond to a person, even if you treasured them more than anyone else.

This would lead to constant blaming, blaming yourself for being the way you are, for not being like normal people. But you couldn't push yourself into talking, either. It felt too suffocating, too difficult to bear.

This time it happened, again. It came on you almost out of nowhere, basically strucking you. You were living calmly and, even, happily just a moment ago, only to get into the void once again. In an instance, you room felt too suffocating, like there was no air, at all.

In an attempt to cool your racing brain you rushed outside. It was pouring like crazy, but you didn't care or even notice at your state. The loud thunderstorm somewhat filled the void inside you, the cold rain cooling you down a bit. The raging weather made you feel slightly more alive, a bit more open to emotions.

As an attempt to gather your mess of thoughts, you tried to focus on something. It didn't take you long before you noticed a tall figure on the other end of the street: the man was the perfect focus point for you at the moment. You wouldn't have much difficulty watching him in order to not lose the last bits of grip you had on reality completely.

Your eyes slowly focused on the figure, still rather absent-mindedly, as the rain was pouring on your uncovered head. But, you barely felt the cold from your soaking wet clothes at the moment. You barely felt anything at all.

However, when you realized that the tall man who you chose as a resource of focus was making his way towards your house, you felt tiny emotions rising in you. Was it surprise or confusion? You couldn't fully tell at the moment.

As the figure got close enough for you to see his features, you noticed that the person looked a bit too familiar. Was it...Soobin? It's not like you could mix his height with anyone else's.

So...it was him. He came. But, how did he know?

Why even make a fool of yourself, he always knew, even better than you ever knew yourself.

You suddenly felt the urge to hide or disappear, once again. But you wouldn't be able to, now. You waited for the figure to get closer, your eyes trying to avoid his at all costs.

A worried voice cut through the deafening silence. "Y/N, what happened? Are you okay?"

As you reluctantly looked up, Soobin already stood just a few steps away from you. Then, the void you felt suddenly bursted out through uncontrollable tears. All the blaming you would put onto your head, all the negative and anxious thoughts that would race through your mind, everything came out within a moment. You broke down, completely.

Upon seeing you in such condition, Soobin's strong warm arms instantly wrapped you in a tight embrace.

"I'm here, with you. Y/N, you are safe", he gently would whisper into your ear, trying to sooth the worries he knew nothing about.

And it helped. He, really, was there. He wouldn't let you run away, he held you close. And you were grateful for that, for the comfort and support he gave you. You didn't feel so scared in his presence. Soobin, unbeknownst to him, gave you the so needed comfort and, most importantly, hope. He gave you hope for the tomorrow's day, that it will and shall come, that, with him, everything shall be okay. Perhaps not now, not even in a week, but with his help, with him you will get out. He won't abandon you like you abandoned yourself numerous times. He will be there, by your side. He will help you get through your hardships. With him, you'll get to see the happy and calm future.

A/N: I'm working on "your muse", I promise!! But, while I was in the mood for something angsty, decided to write this. <3

[nero-vanderwolf]

Shinjiro Aragaki was many things. 

A murderer, cold-hearted killer who abandoned his best friend at the first sign of danger- which also made him a goddamned coward. 

He was a liar, too. Fibbing through his teeth to everyone just to get by without questioning- he hated being pressed for answers, and would do damn near anything to avoid being asked something as simple as where he was going. 

There was something wrong with him when he came back. Multiple somethings, actually, but one that he was new to. 

The feeling of guilt that settled in his gut whenever he caught himself staring at Aki for too long. There was a sick feeling in his stomach whenever he got too caught in the way Aki’s hair caught the sunlight and formed a halo around his face, the way his grey eyes seemed both too carefree and too burdened for his age, the way he was so careful around Shinjiro. 

The carefulness drove him crazy. Aki approached him like a wounded animal, spoke to him like he was wild. And it was the fact that that wasn’t too far off that irritated him. 

When Shinjiro was still living in back alleys and getting by on the kindness of stangers, he had tried to convince himself that he hated Aki. That the twisting in his gut when Aki came crawling back to him like a begging dog was disgust, not... Whatever the hell else he could have been feeling. 

(Remorse. He hated seeing Aki approach him time and time again, hated seeing how he grew more and more tired, how long his hair got after Shinjiro left only to see it miraculously cropped short again a few months ago. And somehow, seeing that bright and cheerful expression on Aki’s face again hurt more than seeing him dejected.) 

And now they were back in old habits, dancing around each other just to avoid talking. But of course, like all things, talking was inevitable. 

“Why the hell are you avoiding me?” Aki asked one day, cornering him in the second floor lounge. There was nowhere he could run to, no one he could use an excuse to get out of this conversation. 

So he tugged his beanie down, did everything in his power not to look at Aki. Not to look at his eyes and how sad Shinjiro knew they were. 

“‘M not,” he mumbled, knowing it was a nothing answer. A deflection. Like the coward he was. 

Aki was, understandably, pissed off at Shinjiro’s response. “What is with you? Every time I try to have a normal conversation with you, you turn tail and run! You’re not a coward, Shinji, so why the hell are you acting like it?” 

“Why the hell are you actin’ like you know me anymore? I’ve been gone for years, Akihiko, and shit’s changed. I’ve changed. Clearly you haven’t, though. You’re still actin’ like a bull-headed ass.” 

Aki froze where he was standing. It hurt, seeing him go cold like that. Always had, really. But Shinjiro couldn’t bear to have Aki get hurt (again) because of him, and if stopping that meant cutting any ties to each other, Shinjiro would grit his goddamned teeth and do it. 

“You don’t mean that,” Aki muttered. Shinjiro ignored him, continuing on. There was still a tether, and he needed to sever it. 

“You need to quit crawlin’ to me like a dog and get on with your life. I ain’t worth bettin’ on, and you know that as damn well as I do. You need to forget me.” 

Of all the things Shinjiro expected Aki to do, he didn’t expect to be grabbing by the collar and jerked out of his seat. He sure as hell didn’t expect to be slammed against the wall, either. 

“Shut the fuck up! I’ll love you if I goddamned feel like it, and I’m not gonna give up on you for shit! Do you understand me, Shinji!? I’ll love you like a dog and I won’t regret a second of it!” 

“Akihiko-” 

Aki’s expression turned sour. “Don’t. That’s not my name.” 

Shinji didn’t know what the hell he was talking about. It definitely was his name, last Shinji checked. 

Aki was trembling as he spoke. His eyes, grey and cloudy with tears- he fucking made Aki cry, he was so stupid-, seemed fixed on the wall by Shinji’s ear. 

“...Don’t call me Akihiko. You gave me that name. I want you to use it,” he whispered, and Shinjiro couldn’t stop himself from reaching up, from pulling Aki close and letting him cry himself out. 

“Aki... I’m sorry,” he murmured, and Aki thumped one of his fists against Shinjiro’s chest, his head still resting on Shinjiro’s shoulder.

“You’re an idiot if you think I’m giving up on you. You’ll have to try harder than that if you want to get rid of me,” Aki said, still quivering in Shinji’s arms. 

Shinjiro hated himself for making Aki cry. How could he not? This was his best friend, the one he would die for, the one who would die for him, the one he played with and grieved with, the one who had to grow up too fast and too soon, the one he loved with everything in his failing body. 

He held Aki close. How could he be such an idiot to think he could ever get rid of Aki like that? With a few hurtful words hurled in bad taste? 

‘You’ll have to try harder than that if you want to get rid of me.’ 

He rested his head against Aki’s. 

“I know.” 

GAAAAAHHHH EMOTIONAL ANGUISH............. FUCJK.............. shinji doesnt want to see aki because of his guilt. he doesnt want to see aki look at him that way, he doesnt want to feel bad. he's running away and aki doesn't want him to leave.... ghhhhh they need to hug and kiss and make each other feel better..,,,,, ALSO AKI NOT WANTING TO BE CALLED AKIHIKO. HE WANTS SHINJI TO CALL HIM AKI. GRRRRRRGHHHHHHH

[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.

[girlactionfigure]

🔅ISRAEL REALTIME news update - Erev Shabbat Parshat Vayak’hel

🔻HAMAS from Gaza - rockets  - at Sderot, Nachal Oz, Ibim, Nir Am

▪️CEASEFIRE LEAKS.. The Qatari Al-Jazeera channel reports: The round of negotiations in Cairo for the ceasefire - ended without reaching an agreement, even though the mediators tried to bridge the gaps. Israel refused Hamas's request for a permanent ceasefire, the IDF's withdrawal from the Gaza Strip and the unconditional return of the displaced.

.. US envoy to Lebanon for a ceasefire ‘froze his mission’ and left.

.. Hamas in an official statement: “Our delegation left Cairo today to hold a consultation with the leadership. Efforts and negotiations continue to stop the fighting, return the displaced and provide aid to the Palestinian people.”

▪️PRESIDENT BIDEN SAYS:

“More than 30 thousand Palestinians were killed in the war. Most of them are not Hamas. Children were orphaned. Houses were destroyed. It's heartbreaking.

The US military will establish a temporary port in the Gaza Strip to transfer aid to Gazans. Our forces will not be on Gaza soil.

Hamas can end this conflict today by releasing the abductees, giving up weapons and handing over those responsible for the October 7th attack.

Israel bears responsibility for protecting the citizens because Hamas operatives hide like cowards among the civilian population.

There is no other solution that will guarantee Israel's security and peace with its neighbors other than the two-state solution.”

▪️HAMAS RESPONDS… Senior Hamas official Muhammad Nazal on Al Jazeera: “We welcome the establishment of a port in Gaza to bring in aid. We are interested in it to avoid the restrictions in the crossings.”  (( we bet you are ‘interested in avoiding restrictions” ))

▪️LEBANON.. Significant attacks by the IDF throughout the day and into the evening on southern Lebanon Hezbollah sites, and have restarted again this morning.

▪️GAZA.. Fighting continues in Khan Yunis - Hamad neighborhood, rocket launchers captured and destroyed, drone strikes on enemy squads.

▪️UK SAYS.. British Foreign Secretary: “Hamas must accept the exchange deal, give up its weapons and leave the Gaza Strip.” (( hint: they’re not listening to you ))

▪️ANALYST COMMENTARY:  “Five months of silence by the United Nations and international organizations passed before the UN acknowledged the terrible sexual abuse committed by the Gazan invaders, abuses that had not only evidence from the bodies that the Gazans stripped and mutilated their genitals, and the testimonies of the survivors and captives, there was also video, calls and text evidence that even the terrorists themselves documented and clearly showed the rape and the intentional sexual assault, which preceded anti-Semitic murder and abuse. 

Was the UN silent all those months because of normal anti-Semitism and because of the part that the organization itself took in the pogrom , or did the organization need time to invent a blood libel against us to hide the horror?”

[tarnishedinquirer]

Godrick the Grafted

I summoned Nepheli Loux to my side, stepped through the golden mist, and exited into a long strip of land flanked with graves. At the end was a central keep, looking as much mausoleum or temple as seat of power. A small dragon was impaled on a spire, presumably the one that crashed into the floors just outside. A massive, lumpy, misshapen figure approached it.

This could only be Godrick.

The wind carried his words to me. He spoke to the dragon lovingly, calling it a "kindred" and a "trueborn heir," and asked it to deliver him to greater heights.

Then he noticed my presence, and his demeanor shifted. See, everything I'd heard about this man told me he was a coward. Hiding from Radahn, licking Malenia's boots, sneaking out of Leyndell. His legitimacy was in question, his castle was crumbling, his soldiers were deserting... every sign pointed to a reign that was at an end.

And then I showed up. A Tarnished of no renown. Having defeated all his soldiers, looted his entire castle. To him, in this moment, I was a living manifestation of his every inadequacy and failure. I represented the inevitability of his fall.

My presence enraged Godrick.

He threw off his clloak, revealing the tangled mass of arms that was his body. His limbs were made of knotted coils of other limbs like muscle fibers. Some hands hung free at his shoulders. One held a spare axe. But in his main hands, he held a giant, golden axe with a heraldic crest on it. He slammed it into the ground and shouted, "I command thee KNEEL!"

At first, he was slow and lumbering, dragging his axe behind him as he hobbled towards me. His body was a patchwork of limbs and torsos, grafted from other unfortunates who had come through here, and I thought they weren't all working in concert. I had plenty of time to summon Aurelia before he got to me. But the second she spat poison at him, he whipped his axe in a vortex around his head, summoned the wind, and started rolling at me.

Walking like a normal person might not be his strongest suit but powered by the wind, and with so many limbs to propel him, he could tumble with breathtaking agility. It was all I could do to avoid his axe.

Nepheli Loux barreled into him, matching control of wind for hers. But she had an advantage he did not: she could also command the lightning. Each blow of her axe was accompanied by a yellow levinbolt. But Godrick had other tricks up his sleeve. He brought his axe down on the ground, stomped on hit like it were a shovel, and the earth around him heaved, knocking Nepheli Loux off her feet.

I was hanging back and throwing Glintstone Pebbles at him, but he sent two blasts of wind my way. I dodged them both, and lunged in with my sword ablaze in blue magic just as Nepheli Loux recovered and hit him with everything she had in her. He dropped to his knees, and I took the opportunity to plunge my sword into his chest, somewhere in the general vicinity of where his heart was.

I was not close enough.

Godrick threw us off, raised his axe, and....

...severed his own arm?

I think we were both too stunned to stop what happened next. Even Aurelia stopped, whatever passed for her brain failing to comprehend what exactly he could possibly be doing. Godrick staggered over to the dragon, screaming and laughing maniacally, clearly pushed to to the brink. He plunged his the bleeding stump into the dragon's neck and wrenched it off.

The dragon's head twitched.

I don't know the rules of grafting, but this seemed somehow against them.

Godrick raised the dragon's head above his and, despite its lack of lungs, it roared.

"Forefathers one and all," he shouted, as it breathed a gout of flame into the air. "Bear witness!"

My battle with Agheel had taught me that the best place to be when a dragon breathed fire was behind it, so without hesitation I sprinted past Godrick. The fire had a physical force that seemed to add to its mass, and he could not turn fast enough to catch me. He summoned the wind, but added a tiny gout of flame, turning it into a firestorm. He rolled at me again, and when he landed, a wave of flame went out from his axe. Even his stomp as empowered, now rocking the entire land bridge. He did not even care if he perished anymore, as long as we perished with him.

Nepheli Loux, barely clinging to life, slammed her axe into his gut and spun him around so his back was to me. I leaped on top of him, charged my sword once more, and plunged it down through his collarbone—his original collarbone. He spasmed, gagged, then went utterly still.

Nepheli Loux leaped in and he caught her in the dragon's arm, cackling like a madman as slammed her into the ground and roasted her alive. As I watched, the arm was already erupting in sores and pustules. There was no way it would last this fight, but he could certainly kill us before it rotted away.

Suddenly, he coughed. Choked, even. Godrick was seized by a coughing fit that only ended when he vomited black bile, forcing him to release Nepheli. I realized what was happening when I saw another spurt of purple fluid from Aurelia. Her poison had finally taken effect!

Staring unseeing at the Erdtree, he said:

I am lord of all that is golden One day we'll return together To our home bathed in rays of gold...

It sounded like the man had rehearsed his last words, like he knew this day would come and wanted them to be good. It was a poem, but I didn't get to hear any more. He hadn't accounted that his lungs would be filling up with blood and bile. The next lines trailed off into gurgles as all the various limbs started falling off his body. I took the sword and jumped back as he came apart, rotted into nothing, and left only a tiny, shriveled torso on the ground.

Nepheli Loux returned to her world, Aurelia to her ashes, and I stared down at the broken thing before me that was once a demigod.

Then Gostoc appeared and stomped on his head.

He continued ranting as he stomped the former lord's head into pulp, and I decided that whatever those two had going on before this, I didn't need to know. It was time to move on.

Is the Golden Lineage descended from dragons?

Why does his axe have a similar emblem to the Grafted Blade Greatsword?

[oliverthedectective]

Chapter One:

~Not Stanley~

Trigger Warnings: This story holds elements of both existential, psychological, and other horror elements. Especially in the beginning of the story. This includes feelings of dysphoria, memory loss, dread, and physical and psychological pain. Please be aware of this and stop now if you can not handle these potential topics at this time. Please take care of yourself! Your health is more important than my silly little story.

Reminder: This is not a completed chapter! Just a little sneak peak posted with the intent to get some feedback! This is an ongoing story.

“This is a story about a man named Stanley.” 

I groggily thought about how weird it was to hear such a voice as a blaring headache forced my eyes to tighten even furthur. Even still I forced my eyes to open, quickly blocking the bright lights out of my eyes with a hand to my forehead. I squinted as I waited for my eyes to re-adjust, feeling rather confused, the lights in my room had never been this bright before. My bleary eyes finally widened as I noticed an out of place computer that was certainly not mine, considering it was one that would normally be seen in office sitcoms set in the 90’s..

My head snapped from side to side of the office space in an attempt to get my bearings. As my eyes landed on a deciding factor of my situation I found my feet subconsciously taking a few steps backwards, my heels knocking into the back of the wheely chair which caused me to almost stumble down. I had just narrowly avoided falling back by catching myself with a decisive grip on the desk besides me. The fall inducing lettering continued to stare into my soul with its bright yellow coloring, if it wasn’t for its placement, then it would’ve held little to no significance. As it stood, the four hundred and twenty seven was the number of a man named Stanley, and showed me exactly where I had ended up.

The Stanley Parable. A hit game created and written by the developers Davey Wreden and William Pugh. A story about Stanley and the many paths he could take within these closed walls, but I was not Stanley. Taking a glance down at my hands, the world seemed to swirl around me as I made an awful discovery. My hands were no longer my own, they were distorted, twisted and utterly perverted from their original form. I snapped my head over to the computer rushing over and slamming my, well someone's hands, upon the desktop, the phone and stacked papers rattling at the impact. I stared desperately into the blank screen that only held a bright green blinking cursor, only to see a face filled with horror stare back at me, as I reached my hand out I saw the movement reflected back at me. My facial expression sank as the realization hit me like a sack of bricks. I was Stanley. 

I gasped softly backing up, a hand taking hold of the side of my skull as I struggled to comprehend the situation I found myself in. Logically this could all be chalked up to a dream, a nightmare, if not for the feeling of my head beneath my fingertips and the ragged breaths escaping from me at an uneven pace. Through rough breaths I glanced around for an out, a way to leave, an open door. The solution was found through an open door on my left which opened up to the familiar sight of the office’s of Stanley’s missing co-workers. As I gripped the door handle with Stanley’s hands, the cooling sensation of the knob rained down my veins, causing a shiver to run up my spine. I had never considered myself a coward per say, although this was certainly a time for a change. I thought as I slammed the door closed in front of me.

As Stanley’s hand still gripped the handle, I closed my eyes and considered my actions, I had just trapped myself into one of the quickest endings of the game. The so-called Coward ending. 

“But Stanley simply couldn’t handle the pressure.” The entirely recognizable voice rang out through the room. “What if he had to make a decision? What if a crucial outcome fell under his responsibility.” 

The same voice-lines that I originally looked up and down for within the original game came back to haunt me in some twisted form of wish fulfillment. I turned Stanley’s head up to the ceiling in hope of some acknowledgement, in hopes that maybe, I could be seen. 

“He had never been trained for that.” The voice unknowingly continued cruelly. “No, this couldn’t go anywhere except badly.” 

These words held a haunting reality that I may have to face within the coming moments, for truly, I had no idea of the potential outcomes of my actions. This could end up being the decision that causes my ultimate death. I shivered as fear crept up my spine as I realized the horrible decision I had just done. Locking myself in this room with no escape, no idea what would happen to me if the game reset. With everyone none the wiser of my current predicament. 

“The thing to do now, Stanley thought to himself, is to wait.” 

No, that’s the last thing I should be doing. 

“Nothing will hurt me.”

 I don’t know that.

 “Nothing will break me.” 

It already has.

“In here I can be happy, forever.” 

No! Can’t you see?

“I will be happy.”

I’m terrified...

“Stanley waited. Hours passed.” The voice rumbled against my silent pleas. 

I hurriedly ran around the room trying to find some way to prevent the inevitable outcome, slamming Stanley’s hands across the keyboard, trying to type something. Say something! But the keys did not respond, no letters showed up on the ever blinking monitor, feeling desperate I ran back over to the closed door. Roughly jiggling the doorknob beneath Stanley’s finger’s, silently saying sorry to Stanley, as I started to ram his shoulder into the door in a desperate attempt to make it budge. It didn’t even make a sound. 

“Then days.” A tingling sensation started to form at the back of my skull. “Had years gone by? He no longer had the ability to tell.” 

I felt dizzy as I stumbled the world shifting around my eyes, the world started blacking around the edges, as a pressure started pushing down on my chest. Has this room always been this dark? Am I going crazy? I tried to take in a lungful of breaths as breathing became harder and harder to accomplish. I felt my legs give out beneath me as I fell to the ground my hands slayed open upon the carpeted ground. 

“But the one thing he knew for sure, beyond any doubt, was that if he waited long enough, the answers would come.” 

Would they? I wanted to ask but no words would come out, I was just as mute as the original Stanley had been. I closed my eyes as another bout of dizziness overcame me, feeling my stomach churn at the sensation, my head limply sunk further towards my chest as the Narrator continued his spiel. 

“Eventually some day they would arrive.” The words reverberated around the tiny office space. “Soon, very soon now, this will end.” 

I felt my body shake in defiance trying to take one more stance, to not give up, to try and stop the ending. I slammed my rolled up fists upon the ground, opening up my mouth in a desperate attempt to scream, to make him realize that I was alive and suffering!... but the sounds never came as the words continued to flow around my brain. 

“He will be spoken to.” The words tore into my heart, speaking of my exact desires at this moment. To be seen, really seen, not as the body I had been shoved into… but as me. 

I felt my body collapse to the ground fully, curled up in the fetal position of pain, nausea, and fear. The last bits of energy spent in a desperate attempt to reach out to the man who was out of sight, who was just a voice; and yet, was my only hope at survival. 

“He will be told what to do.” The voice seemed to spit out, annoyance dripping off of every word. 

I begin to wonder what would’ve happened if I just followed, listened to the Narrator’s words, and his story to the true ending. I closed my eyes fiercely trying to fight back against those negative thoughts but they just kept coming like waves up against a tide. If I hadn’t been a coward and tried to get out of the story as soon as possible, would I be looking across the green pastures filled with trees and nature. 

“Now it’s just a little bit closer…” 

The brief silence was deafening, hearing the soft humming ambiance of the whirling machinery of the office. Unfortunately the only thing coming closer to me was my inevitable death, as I tried to suck in another breath, only to realize I was no longer gaining any oxygen. I wanted to panic, to try and fight, but I no longer had the energy to do so. Leaving my last conscious action to be the tears that poured from these eyes. 

“Now it’s even closer!” The Narrator spoke in an almost uncharacteristically excited tone. 

~~“Here it comes”~~

The End Is Never The End Is Never The----

[sabo-has-my-heart]

All I Need is You

a... cute? little Sanji fic

Warnings: angst, hurt/comfort, happy ending I promise, heartbreak, WCI spoilers

Word Count: 1370

He didn’t love you, he couldn’t love you. Well, that probably wasn’t entirely true. He loved all women… all women, he didn’t love you any more than he loved Nami or Robin or the random girl at the market. You wanted him to love you though. To love you and only you. But he didn’t, he couldn’t, he wouldn’t. You would never have his heart like he had yours. And it hurt, in the darkness of night, when you were alone and nobody could hear you, you would allow the tears to fall and cry until there was nothing left. Then you’d return to your room and fall into a deep, exhausted slumber. The next day you’d go about things as if nothing was wrong, as if you weren’t yearning for him, as if your heart wasn’t aching for him.

His love for you was… terrifying. He’d always loved women, all women, but you, he loved you more than any woman he’d ever laid eyes on. Not even the pirate empress nor the mermaid princess could ever hope to rival your beauty in his eyes. You radiated pure beauty, but not just your physical beauty, you shone from the inside, at least, you did to him. It scared him. It terrified him. So he was a coward, he was a coward and hid behind his love for women. How could a goddess, a pure and untainted creature such as you ever fall for a perverse, deviant man like himself? So he did his best to not let his true feelings show. Instead, his dreams were filled with moments spent with you. Not even sexual moments, but simply moments spent dancing, cooking, holding. Moments where he was simply allowed to love. 

His wedding had your heart stopping. He… was getting married? He would… be leaving the crew? It was like a dagger in the heart, one that finally let loose the torrent of emotions that you’d held within yourself, and you screamed at the heavens. For the first time, you allowed the others to see your pain and anguish, to see your tears as you collapsed to the ground. Your world was being ripped from under you and there was nothing you could do. You weren’t strong enough, you couldn’t stop it. Even still, you joined Luffy in his rescue mission. For what it was worth, you had to try. Perhaps that’s why it hurt so much when he pushed you away, why your heart felt like it was breaking when he called you ‘inferior’, why it hurt so much when he talked about marrying Big Mom’s ‘beautiful daughter’, and why his claim about being happier there stabbed so deeply. 

“Sanji, please don’t… please… I… I love you, I’ve loved you for so long, please don’t do this.” you pleaded, tears running down your cheeks. Please let it be a lie, let it all be a lie, or a nightmare, anything but reality. 

His heart stopped. You loved him. You, his goddess, his life, his personal ‘All Blue’, his very reason for breathing, you loved him. You loved him and he had to turn you away. He wanted to break down then and there, he wanted to wrap his arms around you and apologize for everything he said, to confess to you how he felt. But he couldn’t.

“Why would I ever love a disgusting, repulsive creature? Are you even truly a woman?” he asked, revulsion and disgust painted across his beautiful features. ‘Why would I ever love a disgusting, repulsive creature like myself after what I’ve done to you? Are you even truly a woman and not a goddess?’ but those words went unsaid, he forced the words back before turning away. Once more, you screamed at the heavens as you wrapped your arms around yourself. Your heart had shattered. No, it hadn’t shattered, shattered things, they were still physical, they could be fixed, they still existed. Your heart, it felt like it would never be fixed, like nothing of it remained. You didn’t speak a word after that, even when the truth behind his betrayal was revealed, you didn’t say a thing, didn’t look his way, how could you? How could you bear to look at him after that?

The way you avoided looking at him, your silence, it was immediately noticeable to him and it hurt. He wanted to apologize for everything, wanted to tell you the truth, but you hated him now. You had to. He had broken your heart, and now, now he’d ruined his one chance at your heart. He’d never forgive himself for what he’d done, what he’d said. He’d broken the heart of a goddess and for that, he deserved the deepest pits of hell. Maybe… maybe after all this was over, he could apologize, tell you that he didn’t mean it, any of it. That in truth, he loved you too, that he had for a long time. You’d never forgive him, you’d reject him, but he deserved it. So long as he told you the truth, so long as you knew he didn’t mean a word of it. 

Sailing away, he took you aside, bringing you to the back of the Sunny, away from the prying eyes of the crew. Still, you were silent, still, you refused to look at him.

“Y/n… what you said back there, the last words you spoke to me… did you mean it? I… I know you haven’t said a word to me since then and I… I deserve it. I broke the heart of a beautiful lady, but I need to know.” he begged, looking at you with desperate eyes. Your own watered, a beautiful woman, that’s all you were to him, just another beautiful woman, probably a dime a dozen to him. You hesitated, how could you not? After everything that had happened.

“I… I meant it, I’m… I’m sorry Sanji, I… you don’t have to like me back, I… I can take my confession back-”

“No! No, please, please don’t take it back! Y/n… I… I love you too, I have for so long. But a goddess like you deserves better, so much better than what I am, better than what little I have to offer you. Not even a prince deserves one such as you, with such brilliance and radiance. I broke your heart and for that, I can’t be forgiven, but please, don’t ever take back your confession.” his words were more than just pleas, more than begging, they were desperate, anguished, and filled with self-loathing as he fell to his knees, taking your hand in his, tears cascading down his cheeks as he dared to look up into the eyes of such an amazing woman. Yet despite the hatred he expected, he saw only adoration reflected back at him. The same adoration he always felt for you, yet it shone in your eyes, shone for him. 

“I never wanted more, all I wanted was you, Sanji, all I needed was you. If… if you don’t want me to take back my confession, then… then please, stay with me… I don’t care what ‘little you have to offer me’. You were always more than enough, just how you were. I don’t need anything more. All I need is you.” you whispered, kneeling down so you were eye level with him, caressing his cheek. He leaned into your touch, his heart stuttering at the heavenly feeling.

“I… I don’t deserve you, but may I have you anyhow? You’ve always had my heart, could I have yours?” he asked, the tears slowing as you let out a choked laugh, wiping away his tears as best you could.

“It’s been yours since the moment I met you. I love you, Sanji.” you said, pulling him in for a soft kiss, one he gladly returned. 

“I am yours to do with as you wish. I’ll be at your every beck and call, my goddess.” he promised once you had pulled away. Smiling, you nodded, resting your forehead against his. 

“And I’ll be at yours… my prince.” you said, perhaps a little teasingly. Then again, he’d always been your prince, well before you knew about Germa.

[mbappeslover]

spread thin.

mbappé x f!reader. childhood friends, enemies to lovers. they’re both 18.

i wrote this book with the song spread thin by mariah the scientist in mind. so, for the best experience, read this book while… listening to spread thin by mariah the scientist.

“papa, are you serious?! do i really have to train with.. with her?” kylian fussed as you looked around exhausted.

you guys haven’t even started the match yet, but kylian’s attitude began tiring you out. it was a bright and hot day in paris as well. you wanted to finish this match and head home.

“kylian, it’s final. just do one round with y/n. i have no idea why you’re making this such a big deal.” kylian’s dad said while walking off into the shade.

“yeah, why is it a big deal, mbappé? are you scared to lose to a girl.” you said in a mocking tone.

kylian switched his focus onto you. he looked angry.

“what did you say?” he said, marching up to you with speed and stopping a few centimeters from you.

he looked so silly being extremely worked up over having to play one round of football with you.

you were amused by all of this. so, your lips curled into a sly smile.

“are we about to kiss right now, mbappé?”

he noticed the close proximity you two happened to be and backed away immediately.

“you fucking wish, y/l/n.” he spat out before storming away.

you just laughed because you always knew just the right words that’d throw him over the edge, it worked every single time.

a few hours later.

you were home now, taking a nice, hot shower at the end of the day after practice was like an award. scrubbing away all of that dirt and sweat. feeling clean is the best.

you got out the shower and began moisturizing yourself with your signature vanilla bean & coconut scented lotion— when you heard a knock on your bedroom door.

“who is it?”

“it’s kylian.”

you froze.

kylian? what’s he doing here…?

“one second!” you shout out and quickly throw on your sleeping clothes: nike shorts with a gray cropped tank top.

you opened the door to an awkward looking kylian.

“hey…?” you said before turning around to lay on your bed and checking your phone for any messages.

a few seconds go by and it’s complete silence, so, you turn around, sitting up crisscrossed and kylian is still standing by the door, scratching his head while analyzing your room.

“are you just gonna stand there, mbappé?” you ask in a dry tone.

“well, you never told me i could come in.” he shot back at you.

“see kylian, that’s your problem. you randomly began acting so weird towards me. what happened to us? when did it ever get like this. we used to be so close.” you exclaimed.

he sighed, closing the door behind him before settling himself on your bed next to you.

“i’m sorry, y/n.” kylian said while looking you in the eye.

you broke the eye contact, you never could withstand his stares. his eyes. you knew this talk would come sooner or later. you thought you were prepared but, right now, your throat began to close up, eyes began to sting and it was getting harder for you to stay calm.

he shuffled closer to you.

“y/n, can you please look at me?”

you didn’t budge, scooting over more till you couldn’t anymore. avoiding his presence.

complete silence took over the room. you felt the bed get lighter and footsteps.

that’s right, kylian is a coward. all he does is run away from his problems and cries like a little bab-

“you really are a headache y/n, you know that, right?” he breathed out.

you snapped your head towards him so fast, ready to throw a rebuttal but before you could register what was happening…

warmth engulfed you.

“are you serious kylian?! get off of me." you bursted out laughing.

kylian just tackled you and was now holding you in the biggest bear hug ever. all the previous tension, now evaporated from the atmosphere.

“no, not until you look at me… and let me talk.” he said, lifting his face from your chest and pouting.

“you big baby, get off of me. right now!” you said, smiling so hard, ear from ear.

he sighed hard yet again before unleashing you from the hug and rolling off to the side.

a few seconds past by and everything settled down.

he propped himself onto his hand while looking, admiring you.

“i’m serious, y/n. i am so sorry. everything just happened so fast. when we were younger, i didn’t see you in any way. just a friend, my bestest friend. but then, we started getting older and.. i didn’t see you that way anymore. it was scary, i didn’t wanna ruin our friendship. so, i just thought maybe if i distanced myself, my feelings for you would go away.” he said.

he took a moment to get his thoughts together, licked his lips, looked you in the eye with so much… passion. before continuing.

“obviously that didn’t work.” he chuckled. kylian looked so cute that you couldn’t help, but, to giggle at his cuteness and how vulnerable he was being with you right now.

“y/n, i love you. i love how you don’t take shit from anyone. i love your curly hair that smells like castor oil and coconut. i love how care free you are. i love your smile and your goofy little laugh. i love how strong you are, how competitive you can get. i’ve been in love with you since we were 10, y/n.”

the tears fell out so fast, you couldn’t help it.

kylian panicked. “did i do something wrong, mon amour, why are you crying? i’m sorry.” he wrapped his arms around you, hugging you, wiping off your tears.

“shut the fuck up.” you said sniffling.

you looked into his eyes, again. kylian looked at you with so much love in his eyes, his beautiful eyes that hold. so much light. you tilt his chin down towards you.

“you know, i hate you.. so much, mbappé.” you said before connecting his lips to yours.

you both loosen up into the kiss, he holds onto your waist, squeezing it a little tight. you wrap your arms around his neck and slip your tongue into his mouth.

he gasps but regains his composure.

“what an idiot.”

you think.

“he’s my idiot, though.”

you smile into the kiss.

kylian lifts you onto his lap and kisses you deeper.

let’s say… y/n & mbappé had quite the time.

and yes, they’re together. happily.

i hope you enjoyed this, it’s my first fic so let me know in the comments if it’s good or bad. i take all sorts of criticism. this is simply for fun. also, i take requests so leave them in the comments.

[cryptids-of-spielzeit]

Sundae

Part 2: One Scoop Chocolate

(A Sun Dog Story)

It had been a week since he had met the kit. Over that week, the two had formed an inseperable bond. They helped each other out, she would scout the area and alert him of any dangers. She was so good he couldn't count how many run ins with the little ones he had already avoided. In return, all she wanted was his love. And food, but mainly love.

"Hey guys, I think our new friend is lightening up a bit!"

That day, it had been awfully quiet. No birds singing, no crickets chirping, not even the buzzing of flies. All the two heard were the shuffling of leaves and twigs as he crawled around. He suddenly stopped, setting the kit down right in front of him. He looked in the distance, almost as though he was in a trance. When all of a sudden, he spoke.

"You know, it's a bit sad. You've been by my side for a bit, possibly will be there til we both reach our end. And I still haven't given you a name."

She tilted her head in confusion.

"Oh, you know, a name....who am I kidding, you wouldn't know, you"re just a pup. Have I even told you my name?"

They both stood in silence before she tilted her head the other way. He chuckled a bit.

"Well then, I'll give each other introductions then. My name is......Dogday. And you...hmm, let's see. You're small, you're red....Bobby? No, no, you aren't a bear, but you've got the smile down. Hmm...I'll have to think about tha-"

BANG!

A gunshot destroyed the silence, the fox and the hound were both startled. But he knew there shouldn't be any gunshots, not in these woods. Signs were plastered everywhere, "NO HUNTING." Someone was out there, and they weren't following the rules.

Suddenly, they heard a rustling in the distance. The little ones, yet again? No, this sounded bigger, faster. Closer. Closer. And there it was, running their way, a young deer, couldn't be anymore than 5 months old. It didn't notice the two canines as it ran past, hiding itself behind a tree, and they followed suit.

Not far behind it was the culprit. Older fellow, very well kept. But he had that look in his eyes, he wasn't all there. He kept giggling, like this was a game, like it was fun. But come on, he couldn't be that depraved, right?

"Come on out, you little coward! If I get you that'll make my count 13, and that's just today's tally!"

(Fun fact: narrators hate it when they're wrong)

Dogday could hear every psychotic thing this man had to say. He was making this forest a waking nightmare for every creature here. And he despised that.

"Stay here, please. I'm about to teach him a lesson."

He crawled as silently as he could, just until he could get right behind the hunter. And then, when the moment was right....YANK! He pulled him to the ground, right at his level. The hunter was shocked, what did that to him? His answer was right there, inches away from his face. He couldn't even muster a scream.

"Leave. Never come back. Or I will do to you...what was done to me."

The hunter sat there in a mixture of fear and confusion, even after the dog had gotten off of his lap. He took one quick glimpse at his torso. The buttons clicked.

"AAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!"

He ran off like a scared animal. Good.

He crawled his way over to the tree to see if the deer was still there. Lo and behold, there it was, laying next to the kit. Seeing as they were all stressed, he knew what he had to do. He took one deep breath in, and one, long, relaxing breath out. It was at that moment, in the vanilla clouds, that he had an epiphany.

"So, it looks like we have another one joining us, huh kid? Well, lucky for the both of you, I've figured out what I'm going to call the both of you!"

He picked up the kit, "I think Strawberry's a good name for you, you sweet, red little thing." She yipped and barked in glee.

He then crawled over to the deer, slowly and gently placing his hand on its head, "As for you, I'm calling you Chocolate." It put its head on his, its tail slowly wagging.

It was getting late, but where they were was comfortable as is. They all huddled together in front of a makeshift fire, and another night went by. A safe night, all together.

"Oh, hey you! Come on, there's always more than enough room for another friend!"