#And the fear of time and the attempt at escapism

[cherienymphe]

Teenage Dirtbag XVI

JJ Maybank x Reader x Rafe Cameron

Warnings: NON-CON, DUB-CON, abusive relationship, domestic violence, mentions of violence (+ gun violence), gun kink, dacryphilia, attempted murder, blood, semi public sex,  jealousy, manipulation, infidelity, underage drinking, drug use, canon ages, kook!reader

➥ banner by @vase-of-lilies | ➥ divider by @firefly-graphics

➥ series masterlist

summary: You’re charmingly spoiled. You’re too kind for your own good. You’re the princess of Figure 8 ��and you’re way out of JJ Maybank’s league, but when he realizes that Rafe Cameron’s pride and joy is actually a bruised and battered damsel, he’s determined to save you.

Your rescue just comes with a price.

⭑

“Am I a joke to you? Huh?”

Despite how unserious Rafe’s words were, his attitude and tone were anything but. The past few months had been…okay—as okay as they could be considering the circumstances, you supposed—and while the look on Rafe’s face was far from unfamiliar, it was also a look you hadn’t seen in a while. Most notably the night of his birthday.

The memory of his hand around your throat was fresh, his voice in your ear as he threatened to kill you if you ever tried to leave him again. The violent memory immediately had you on edge, and you absentmindedly touched your neck, worriedly eyeing Rafe just as he strode over to you.

“You think I didn’t see that bullshit at The Wreck?”

His hand was digging into your arm, and you flinched at the painful grip, eyeing him in a mixture of confusion and fear. Rafe’s blue eyes were cold as he stared you down, a sneer on his lips as he leaned in.

“All it takes is a smile and you’re batting those lashes-.”

“...what are you talking about?” you finally spoke, noticing too late that you were knee deep in another fight without even realizing it.

“I’m talking about JJ, that’s what the fuck I’m talking about,” Rafr spat at you, fingers pressing into your skin even harder.

It took you too long to realize just who he was talking about, and when you did, your lips parted in disbelief. You thought to yourself that Rafe couldn’t be serious, there was just no way, but as you looked between his eyes, you slowly—and fearfully—realized that he was indeed very serious.

The food that you'd brought back from The Wreck was sitting on the counter, and you recalled the blond teenager who’d given it to you with a friendly smile, and you recalled that you’d smiled back. Not only was it just the polite thing to do, but it was second nature to you—harmless. Yet, here Rafe was treating it like the highest form of infidelity there was.

“Rafe…be serious.”

You were so in disbelief that you didn’t quite register the danger of the words you were whispering. You were that much in shock—that thrown—that Rafe was starting something over something as simple and harmless as a smile to the guy behind the counter. Your response only made him angrier, and you swore you felt your bones straining under his hold.

“Do I seem anything but serious, right now?”

You couldn’t hold in your pained gasp as your knees buckled, your free hand reaching up to try and make him let go.

“Do you even consider me and my feelings when you pull this shit? Huh?”

His nose brushed against your cheek as you fought to stand, pulling at his hand with tears in your eyes.

“If it’s not you ‘falling’ into Topper’s lap then it’s you trying to break up with me—and on my birthday, no less! Now you just expect me to stand by and watch you make googly eyes at any guy who looks your way? You be serious,” he bit out, shoving you so hard that your back hit the nearest wall.

Your arm was throbbing, now, the blood rushing back to where Rafe’s hand had just been. Your heart was going crazy in your chest, and when you looked up, you did so just in time to see the expensive vase coming your way. The scream that escaped your lips hurt your throat, and you slid to the floor just as the sound of breaking glass reached your ears. The shards went everywhere, and you briefly noted the faint sting on your feet.

You felt paralyzed as you looked up at Rafe.

“Is this…is this another attempt to leave me? Hmm?” he wondered, fingers grazing his chest as he frowned at you. “You think if you piss me off enough, I’ll just wash my hands of you? Is that it?”

You couldn’t stop shaking, and your voice caught in your throat, your brain unable to comprehend how you wound up in this position. Your silence seemed to only make him angrier, and when he took a step towards you, you were finally able to spring to your feet, completely unsure of what he was about to do next.

“Huh? Is that what you’re trying to pull?”

You frantically shook your head.

“N-no. Rafe, no, I don’t-”

“No?” he asked, almost incredulously. 

A bitter chuckle left his lips, and Rafe shook his head, blowing out a breath as he kept his eyes on you.

“You sure could’ve fooled me.”

You looked around, chest heaving as you ran different scenarios over in your mind. You went back and forth between trying to talk him down and just making a run for it. The last time Rafe had been this angry, he’d almost choked you to death while verbally promising to do just that if you ever drove him to it. Your perusal did not go unnoticed, and Rafe was suddenly moving closer. 

“Wh-where do you think you’re going?” he mockingly asked, holding your gaze, now. “You think we’re done?”

“Rafe…” you pleaded, holding your hands out.

“You think I’m done with you? You think-.”

Rafe cut himself off, reaching for you and cursing when you slipped from his grasp. His hand caught onto your shirt, twisting it, and you stumbled back when he yanked you closer. His other hand circled around your throat, and anything that you were going to say or do was immediately cut short by the feel of metal against your lips.

The scream that caught in your throat was accompanied by the feel of tears kissing your eyes, and your hands immediately wrapped around your boyfriend’s wrist. Rafe’s own eyes were glazed as he stared at you, and a sob bubbled within your chest.

“This is the only way you’re ever going to leave me. Do you understand?”

You were barely listening to a word he said, tears spilling over as you stumbled back with every step he took. The gun had been an 18th birthday gift from Ward, something you’d seen once or twice since you and Rafe started dating. You hadn’t ever given it much thought. After all, you were in North Carolina, and it was the kind of place where kids learned to shoot from the age of twelve.

You hadn’t thought about it when he’d slapped you and not even when he’d threatened your life. Yet here you were…faced with the real possibility that Rafe would use it to kill you. Your tears wouldn’t stop flowing, and your gaze was terrified and pleading. You didn’t even think you were pleading to Rafe—you were just pleading for something. A knock at the door, a car in the yard, the ring of his phone. You were pleading for anything to happen to stop this because in this moment…you weren’t so sure that Rafe would stop on his own.

The blond tilted his head at you, the light glinting off of his blue gaze.

“Hmm?”

You gave a shaky nod, your nails digging into his wrist, and Rafe stared at you for what felt like a long time. His hand was on the gun and your hand was on him and neither one of you were moving. The moment he finally pulled his hand back, you were shoving your hand against his face. Your sudden fight took him by surprise, and you didn’t spare him another glance as you bolted for the stairs.

You flinched when your name echoed off of the walls, Rafe’s footsteps in time with yours. Your tearful gaze made it hard to see, and your shoulder knocked into the corner of the wall as you stumbled straight towards the bathroom. Rafe’s voice was loud and angry as he yelled for you, and you didn’t hesitate to slam the bathroom door shut behind you, locking it just moments before Rafe’s hand met the knob.

Your uneven breathing was all you could hear as you fumbled around in your pocket for your phone, and your lashes fluttered from the feel of the door hitting your back from every kick Rafe dealt to it. You felt so disconnected from yourself as you dialed 911, the severity of Rafe’s actions fully washing over you. You couldn’t stop crying as a voice greeted you from the other line, mentally telling yourself that you couldn’t do this anymore.

You had to get out. 

You had to.

You couldn’t live like this, you wouldn’t survive it, and as terrifying as it would be to tell the world just who Rafe Cameron really was, the thought of enduring this forever was even scarier. 

“What’ya thinking about?”

Rafe’s lips brushed against your temple as he whispered the question, and you only shook your head before turning to look up at him with a small smile. 

“Nothing…”

Topper and Kelce were playing poker in the living room, Rafe long abandoning the game to snuggle beside you instead. Today was a good day, but then again, the past few weeks had been full of good days. The disastrous night that was Midsummers was weeks ago, and the morning after—when you’d been applying makeup to your discolored cheek—you had the realization that even if some small part of you had hope that you could get out of this relationship one day, you needed to survive to actually see that happen.

Sneaking around with JJ had brought just as much harm as it did good.

Sure, you were seeing someone who actually cared about you and who didn’t absolutely terrify you. You were reminded of what it was like to be touched by someone without flinching, but on the flip side…you were reminded of what it was like to be touched by someone without flinching. 

Your relationship with JJ—if you could even call it that—also served to put into perspective just how bad things had become with Rafe. There was a time when you’d gotten so used to the abuse, so accustomed to the way he talked to you and held you and treated you. The constant reminder of how much better things could be made you act out in ways that you hadn’t in a long time. 

Your behavior as of late had given Rafe the perfect excuse to show you just how awful he could really be.

Things were good when you were good, and being good entailed acting as the perfect girlfriend that Rafe wanted. Smiling when he looked at you, standing beside him and looking pretty when he was with his friends, placating him no matter how much in the wrong he was, and eagerly opening your legs for him whenever he wanted. After all, deep down, that’s what it was really about.

Rafe just wanted someone to always be in his corner and to be ever loyal to him.

It didn’t matter that he had to force it.

All Rafe wanted was for someone to kiss him on the cheek at the end of the day and choose him. You would find it sad if said behavior wasn’t actively ruining your life. Playing such a role had long driven you into depression, but it wasn’t so bad, now when you had something else to look forward to. As much as it pained you, you slipped back into that role of the agreeable and enabling girlfriend, content with the temporary relief from it that JJ brought to you.

“You’re always thinking about something,” Rafe murmured, a humorous lilt in his voice that didn’t fool you.

You knew that if Rafe could wish for anything, it would be to see inside of your head. The fact that he could control every aspect of your life except your thoughts was something that bothered him greatly. That was one thing he’d never have access to, and it absolutely ate him up inside.

He was right though.

As you looked at him, you were reminded of his face staring back at you from inside of that cop car. It seemed like so long ago—a lifetime—but nothing had hardly changed. You’d been so sure that day that things would be different. You’d been so scared, so tired, so…defeated. You remembered how determined you were to put a stop to this and start moving on from Rafe Cameron once and for all…but then Ward had gotten into your head and scared you even more with the reality of what would happen.

You wondered if Rafe thought about that day too, if he thought about how if it weren’t for Ward, then things would be very different right now. Rafe had a lot to thank Ward for, you supposed, but you didn’t say any of that. You didn’t dare.

“Just thinking that I’m going to miss you,” you quietly told him.

Ward was going away for the weekend to deal with some business, and Rafe was going with him. The trips had become more frequent over the past year, and you knew that it was only a matter of time before Rafe was fully brought into the family business…and once that was done, it wouldn’t be long before Rafe decided it was time to tie you to him forever. Rafe wanted to have it all, you’d always known that, and once his place by Ward was official, he would start checking things off the list one by one.

Rafe hummed at your response, reaching up and gently taking your chin between his fingers.

“You have been so good lately,” he murmured, leaning in. “I think you really will miss me.”

He pressed his lips to yours, and you kissed him back, closing your eyes and eagerly moving your mouth against his like you used to before JJ. While it was still second nature to you, you had never had to give it so much thought before. Behaving like Rafe’s dream girl was just something you did, something ingrained in you, but lately you had to remind yourself that you wanted things to be easy—smooth sailing. 

It didn’t hurt to remember that Rafe noticed the way JJ acted about you these days. Rafe thinking that JJ harbored a crush on you was one thing, but if he even suspected the opposite then you were as good as dead. He thought it was funny, something to laugh about—the thought of JJ Maybank thinking he had a chance with his girlfriend—but the thought that you might be soft on the other blond wasn’t as amusing. 

You recalled the way he looked at you as he threatened you that night, driving it into your head that he didn’t want you ever defending ‘that Pogue’ again. It didn’t matter how many times you told him you were just trying to be nice and mature, he didn’t want to hear it. You hadn’t missed the glint in his eyes, and it was then that you told yourself you needed to get it together. 

JJ Maynank was messing with your head, rubbing off on you, and sometimes that was good, but there were also times where it wasn’t. He was so headstrong, so impulsive, and while you liked that about him, he was always going to be on the receiving end of Rafe’s wrath if he kept it up, and that was what you told him later that night after Rafe had dropped you off at home with a gentle kiss.

The younger blond huffed, and you watched him run his hand through his hair.

“Yeah, I know,” he reluctantly agreed. “I just don’t think you understand how angry he makes me. Downright murderous if we’re being honest.”

Your heart skipped a beat at that, hating when JJ talked like that, but you knew that it was all talk. Rafe was home and packing to leave with his father in the morning, and JJ was sitting on the edge of your bed, reaching for you and pulling you closer by your waist. Moments like this made the farce with Rafe worth it, and you placed your hand on the other man’s shoulders.

“You’re used to this, used to him,” he sadly pointed out, gaze soft as he looked up at you. “I’m not, and I don’t think I’ll ever be.”

Your shoulders sagged at that, silently agreeing with him. It did seem a little unfair to expect JJ to fall in line so quickly with something that had taken you years to perfect. The two of you had only been seeing each other for some months.

“You’re right…but do you get how it makes me feel to see him just tear into you because you can’t keep your mouth shut?”

JJ’s lips quirked up at that, and you lightly hit his shoulder.

“It’s not funny,” you told him, letting out a light chuckle anyway. “Unlike you, I’m good at this. He’ll never suspect me, but he has no problem with punching you in the face for just looking at me too long, and I know how much you love fighting Rafe, but it gives me a mini heart attack every time.”

The blond didn’t respond right away at that, and he eventually sighed before leaning in to press his lips to your stomach. When he tilted his head back, he looked up at you from beneath his lashes.

“For the sake of your heart…I’ll be better. I promise.”

The tension in your body eased a bit, but it didn't last long as you watched JJ push the end of your shirt up your torso.

“Now enough about Rafe,” he whispered into your skin. “I have you all to myself this weekend.”

You shuddered at the feel of JJ’s tongue against your stomach, and his fingers wasted no time in searching for the waist of your skirt.

With your parents just down the hall, you were hyper aware of every noise you made under JJ’s careful ministrations. Lying underneath him felt more like a real relationship than any moment you’d ever had with Rafe. JJ was gentle with every touch he gave to you, and you couldn’t stop your stomach from flipping every time he let himself lose control, frantically shaking your head whenever he asked if he was hurting you.

It was a good kind of hurt.

That was something you thought you’d never say. The blond was careful in leaving you blemish free for obvious reasons, but on the off chance that you woke up with a slight bruise or a mark on your chest, it didn’t feel like it did when you looked at Rafe’s marks in the mirror. You’d stare at them with the strangest desire for more, wanting JJ to keep marking you.

One of his hands massaged your breast while the other was being stroked by his tongue, shaky moans escaping your lips in your dark room. You’d grown addicted to the way his cock stretched you out, eagerly opening your legs for him every time he crawled between them. Sex with JJ was fun and good, and it never not ended with you begging him to come inside of you.

You absentmindedly talked with Sarah while you waited for your food. She was telling you about some trip they planned on going with the Twinkie, but you had to be honest with yourself in admitting that you were hardly listening. JJ and Pope were on the other side of the restaurant, and the blond kept catching your eye no matter how much you tried to pretend like you couldn’t feel the heat of his gaze.

It was only a few hours ago that he’d been climbing out of your bedroom with promises to see you tonight. Heat settled in the pit of your stomach at the memory of his fingers on you and in you, and you reminded yourself to savor this because Rafe would be returning in 24 hours and who knew how long it would be before you saw JJ again in the manner you preferred.

“...and believe it or not, JJ is claiming he can’t make it that weekend. What could he possibly have to do,” Sarah scoffed, and you finally looked at her again.

You suspected why in your head, but naturally you kept it to yourself.

“Hey, do you wanna come over tonight? With Rafe gone with our dad, I can actually invite my friends over without apologizing on behalf of him every thirty minutes.”

Her proposal came the same time Kiara brought your food out, and you struggled to turn her down.

“I wish I could, but I can’t,” you sadly told her, hating the way her face fell. “I have some things to take care of at my house.”

The blonde eyed you, and you took your food with a smile thrown Kie’s way.

“Is that for real? Or is this about Rafe? I swear this time it’ll just be us girls, and they miss hanging out with you. Right?”

She looked to the brunette behind the counter, and when you glanced at her too, Kie was sending you a small smile.

“Yeah, you should come.”

Her tone and gaze was welcome enough, but there was something about the way Kie looked at you that felt off. You sighed, hating to turn them down.

“I really have something to do,” you assured them. “I have no doubt that Rafe will be going out of town with Ward again, so next time. I promise.”

You gave Sarah a hug, squeezing her extra tight as an apology, and you waved Kie goodbye. You left without another glance at JJ no matter how much you wanted to, and you were almost to your car when you heard your name being called. The sound of Kie’s voice was surprising, but you turned to face her nonetheless. 

Like inside, you couldn't place the expression on her face.

“Can I talk to you for a minute?”

Her tone was light, and nothing on her face contradicted that, but something about her question sparked worry in you. You blinked, a bit thrown—because what could Kiara possibly want to talk to you about—but you gave her a nod.

“Yeah, sure,” you said with a shrug.

She almost looked like she hadn’t expected you to say yes, and you understood it. You guys weren’t exactly close. Friendly, but not quite friends. You watched her tuck a few strands of hair behind her ear, lips parting as she seemed to be struggling with how to start.

“I…don’t even know if I should be doing this,” she breathed, and at that, you frowned.

She swiped her tongue between her lips.

“...but JJ is my best friend and…”

At that, your heart sank, doubly unsure and worried for what she was about to say. Kie swallowed, gaze soft as her eyes met yours.

“I don’t know what exactly is going on between you two…” you felt your blood run cold. “...and I don’t know exactly how long it’s been going on…but it’s not fair to him.”

At first, you thought the him in question was Rafe, but the longer you stared at each other, understanding filled you. Your chest felt tight as you looked away, softly exhaling.

“Look, there’s no need to freak out because I’m 100% positive I’m the only one who knows,” she assured you. “...and that’s only because I’m the only one JJ talks to about you.”

You knew that. She’d told you at Midsummers, after all.

“I see the look in his eyes when he talks about you,” she whispered. “I hear what he sounds like when he talks about you—I see the way he looks at you, and it’s only because of that that I see the way you look at him.”

You finally met her gaze again.

“...but you’re never going to leave Rafe.”

Her words felt like a punch to the gut…because they were true. Truer than she even knew.

“...and JJ’s so…” her words trailed off with a light scoff. “You took him by surprise. You’re sweet and polite and the complete opposite of Rafe, and I know what he’s thinking.”

Kie shrugged. 

“...because I’ve thought it myself. JJ would be so much better for you. He’d be really good for you…but you’re never going to leave him. Are you?” she asked after some time.

When you blinked, you were surprised to feel a few tears skip down your cheeks, and you avoided her gaze.

“Kie it’s…it’s complicated,” you finally choked out, wrapping your arm around yourself.

“I don’t doubt that,” she laughed. “Trust, I believe that a relationship with Rafe Cameron is every bit as complicated as you say it is, but that doesn’t make this any more fair for JJ.”

An uncharacteristic stab of anger tore through you, and you stared her down, jaw clenching.

“Why aren’t you having this conversation with JJ? Why me?”

She looked at you like it was supposed to be obvious, a frown between her brows.

“...because he’s never going to leave you.”

You sharply inhaled at that.

“Despite how unfair this is to him and despite the fact that he’s forever going to be some dirty little secret and despite the fact that Rafe would probably run him down if he found out, JJ’s not leaving you. We both know that,” she sadly told you.

You didn’t have anything to say to that, and you struggled to swallow. Everything that Kie was saying was right…and you absolutely hated it. Sneaking around with JJ was fun and dreaming of a future with him was fun, but realistically? The small sliver of hope that you had about getting out of this relationship with Rafe was dwindling by the minute. Suppose you did get out unscathed…it wouldn’t remain that way. 

The moment you even thought of stepping out with JJ would be the end of both you and him, and it suddenly hit you that you couldn’t even fathom making JJ go through that. The only way you’d ever be truly free of Rafe was if he were behind bars, and with daddy’s money, the only chance of that happening was if he ever killed someone.

…and that someone was likely to be you.

“Look, I’m not saying all of this to be a bitch, and you probably think I am a bitch, right now, but I like you, Y/N. I really do, and I like you for JJ…but this isn’t fair to him, and you know it.”

You turned away from her with a heaving chest, and more tears spilled over just as a familiar voice reached you both. JJ said something to her that you didn’t catch, too busy staring off into the distance as the gravity of her words hit you. When JJ called your name, you didn’t answer.

You only noticed that Kie was making her way back inside when he forced you to look at him. With one look at your face, his entire expression dropped.

“Hey,” JJ softly said to you. “What’s wrong? Is it Rafe?”

You could only shake your head.

When he reached for your face, you backed away from him, your back grazing your car. Your eyes kept roaming around, your throat and chest feeling so tight. When JJ reached for the keys in your hand, you tightened your hold.

“Let me drive you back home. I’m coming over anyway-.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” you mumbled.

There was a brief pause.

“You can’t drive like this-.”

“No, I don’t think…I don’t think you should come over,” you forced out.

It was some time before you looked at JJ again, and when you did, he was only staring at you with a frown. His lips opened and closed, seemingly struggling to put his thoughts into words before his face went blank altogether. He stared at you for a few seconds before his gaze found The Wreck and back. When he spoke again, his voice was hard, tone icy.

“What did Kie say to you?”

You shook your head, silently crying.

“Nothing that wasn’t true.”

JJ grabbed your arms, and you pushed him away.

“Y/N-.”

“I have to go,” you choked out, hurrying to the driver’s side with JJ on your heels.

You ignored him every time he said your name, and when you slid into your car, he prevented you from closing the door.

“I’m going to call you. Alright? I know Kie probably said some things to you that you think you need to take seriously, but she doesn’t know the whole story, you have to remember that,” he firmly told you, his hand on your cheek.

JJ made you look at him, his thumb brushing over your lip.

“She doesn’t know the truth, she doesn’t understand. Do not listen to her. Okay…?”

JJ was pleading with you, his gaze crazed and desperate, and despite the nod you gave him, you knew in your heart that you already were.

[sevikasbooyahh]

𝐒𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐤𝐚 𝐇𝐂'𝐬

Just random random headcannons about my wife <3

She makes lots of noises; grunts, sighs, groans. It’s basically a language that only you can understand at this point.

“Hmph,” she grunted with her usual grumpy expression. “You want cuddles?” She nods her head in response.

Snores but denies it. It’s like when you’re sharing a hotel room with your family and your dad’s snoring keeps you awake; staring at the ceiling. You’ve told her multiple times but she just doesn’t believe it.

“You kept me awake all night,” you said in disbelief as your utterly exhausted eyes met hers. “Uh-huh, how? Do NOT say because I was snoring.””You were snoring.”

But in all seriousness, she started sleeping on her side—the snoring was due to her sleeping on her back.

Doesn’t care for public affection, not that she won’t slip her arm around your waist or have her hand on your thigh once in a while—but it isn’t often.

(Saw someone else say this)—absolutely loves dad jokes. She won’t laugh at anything else but dad jokes.

“Hey babe,” you slid next to her on the couch. “Hm?””What days are the strongest?“ you asked. “I don’t know,” she shrugged. “Saturday and Sunday,” you started to smile. “Why?” She was slightly curious. “‘Cause the rest are weekdays,” she couldn’t even hold it before she burst out laughing.

Takes her mechanical arm off before she goes to bed because she doesn’t wanna hurt you.

Tough with everyone else but you, Jinx and Isha (they’re alive and well).

Isha made a cheerful noise as she raised her tea cup. Sevika sat across from her, hunched over the small table, teacup in hand. She pretended to drink from it, “Mm, nice.”

Perfers actions over words—for example, her version of an apology is by doing more of what she should’ve done in the past. If she wasn’t spending much time with you before, she’d immediately take it upon herself to fix her schedule.

VERY protective, especially when you’re at The Last Drop, nothing escapes her vision.

Once, this guy attempted to flirt with you but before he could get a word out, he was immediately met with a deadly glare from her. She pulled you closer towards her with a raised eyebrow, “You got something to say?” That sent him babbling in fear, “Uh-no, no, of course not!—“”Get out of my sight.”

Claims she’s not an animal person but will come home with a kitten she found on the street.

“It wouldn’t stop following me,” she said while avoiding eye contact with you. You knew she was lying.

Sometimes when she comes back from work she’ll just collapse on the couch. She’s a busy woman, alright?

Jinx cut her hair then made fun of her afterwards.

Jinx cackled after she looked at the final product, “Sweetcheeks ain’t gonna love you now, are they?” The older woman simply grumbled under breath, “You’re the one who cut it.””Yeah and I made it ugly on purpose.”

You ended up loving her hair anyway.

Secretly likes when you lay on top of her; loves seeing how comfortable you are

She’s always warm; your personal heater

Somehow gives the best hugs—bear hugs, but is so awkward with it

Takes the longest showers known to mankind; once she gets in, be prepared to wait about an hour. Meanwhile, half the time it’s just her staring at the wall.

Will let Isha climb her on rare occasions; sometimes the girl gets insanely hyper and is moving all over the place.

Says she’s “not fond of kids” but has a soft spot for them.

A little boy with blue-dyed hair walked up to her while she was outside one day. “H-hi, can you please sign this?” He asked in a soft-spoken manner, showing a drawing, offered with a crayon. She didn’t respond but took the paper and signed her name on the back. Internally, she was in disbelief that this boy looked up to her in some way. “Thank you!” He gave a big smile before running back to his group of friends, happily showing them the signature. A twitch edged at the end of her mouth.

[grimmsbride]

▒ ❀ ̭͡⠀ ❛ SOME ENCOURAGEMENT. NAM-GYU / PLAYER 124

nam-gyu attempts to recruit beloved, timid reader into thanos’s world. all it takes is a little encouragement.

𖥔 ࣪˖ TAGS, nam-gyu is a little pushy (but everything is consensual between him and reader) | unconsensual voyuerism (again everyone is asleep but i don’t wanna make anyone uncomfortable) | ooc characters (first time writing for nam-gyu) | minor degradation & praise (+humiliation(?)) | use of the words slut, good girl, etc. | fingering | minor dacryphilia | just a silly little imagine | nam-gyu is lowkey manipulative | reader is a freak with a thing for fingers/hands | etc.

𖥔 ࣪˖ NOTES, writing smut on company time is actually hilarious, idk why i got this idea during work. but anywho — i hope you enjoy, i tried my hand at his character. as always please ignore any grammar mistakes or typos.

Imagine Nam-Gyu attempting to recruit someone without the advice of his beloved purple-haired leader. Surprising, right? Despite his own issues with inferiority; the ex-club worker just seems to follow behind Thanos like a hungry puppy desperate for a bone— or drugs, for that matter. But no, just this once, Nam-Gyu takes the lead. The numbers are growing closer and even more scarce, fear lacing people’s minds and causing them to hit that dreaded X button. Thanos’s World’s dream is to continue the games to pay off their debts, right?— so it only made sense for Nam-Gyu to turn an X over to the O side.

He couldn’t just pick anyone. Someone far too strong-willed would definitely tell him no, and someone far too weak would just be a curse rather than a blessing.

Who to choose.. Who to choose..

Soon enough the man’s eyes are locking on to you— a contestant he has seen around, yet hasn’t heard much from. Not only were you easy on the eyes but you just seemed like the perfect person to shape into a worthy teammate.

Within minutes he’s approaching you, an easy-going smile in place as your name falls from his lips. Nam-Gyu had heard it said before by someone close to you, another random that he hadn’t bother to think about.

“Yes..?” Your words are slow, lips pursing as you take in the man before you. You were beyond nervous; this was the lackey of that purple-haired lunatic after all. Watching the two fight on the very first day was enough to tell you to avoid them at all costs. Yet here you were, a few feet away from one of them, under his gaze that trailed over you like a pretty piece of jewelry behind a display case.

You couldn’t help but bring your hands closer to yourself, teeth dragging across your cheek nervously.

From your head to your toes, Nam-Gyu’s eyes soon landed on that big red patch residing just under your bosom. With a breathy chuckle he reached over, allowing a single finger to press and trace the X.

“You wanna get out of the games that bad, huh? You voted X twice already.”

Your eyes flicked down to his hand, before traveling back to his face. “Yeah well..” You dragged slowly, watching that harsh gaze return to your features.

“I—I want to get rid of my debts.. but putting my life on the line for it just seems..” You hoped you got your words across perfectly, even without continuing your sentence. Sure, it was hard being hounded for your debts, but death looming over your head just didn’t seem worth it.

Still, Nam-Gyu only shook his head at you, a sigh full of pity escaping his lips.

“Well, that’s where you’re messing up.” Nam-Gyu hummed, stepping just a bit closer, finger still tracing that damned patch. Your attention kept flicking between his face and finger, wondering why exactly warmth was pooling throughout your entire body.

“Worrying too much about dying is what’s gonna get you killed, not anything else.”

Your eyebrows knitted close, a look of confusion plastered across your face. Worrying seemed like the right way to keep yourself alive.. right? Not worrying just seemed, well— stupid. Not that you would say that to his face, obviously.

“I have to disagree..”

Just barely did you hear the sound of the man sucking his teeth, watching the way his face turned to the side, clearly searching for his next few words. You debated on walking away from this conversation, it was clear what his objective was. And whether ordered by Thanos or not, you didn’t really want to know— nor figure out.

Yet for some reason you were practically glued to the spot, blinking up at him and waiting oh, so patiently for his next spiel. And as you watched his face turn back to you, your breath got caught in your throat.

“Okay then.. worry all you want, but you wouldn’t you want someone to look out for you?” Nam-Gyu’s other hand was reaching to your patch at this point, using both thumbs to trace it. “Being on this side, there’s no unity.. it’s every person for themself.”

The two of you locked eyes, a sickeningly sweet smile crossing his face.

“Come with us, and we’ll look after you. I’ll personally see to it too.”

Slowly did your teeth sink into your bottom lip, struggling to maintain the eye contact that he seemed so keen on keeping. The only thing you could hear was your racing heart and the gentle sounds of his thumbs sliding across that red patch. His words were.. tempting. You wondered if he rehearsed what to say, like a video game with multiple endings; did he have it all figured out before he even walked over? Was he so prepared to convert you, using every rejection you had as some silly obstacles the man easily hobbled over?

So caught up in your thoughts, you hardly realized Nam-Gyu had gotten even closer until his breath fanned across your ear in a simple;

I’ll let you think it over, let’s talk again later..

When you thought of later, you initially believed in thirty mins or so. Maybe this time he would bring over his beloved leader to really get the point across. But no, later seemed to be during lights out; when you all should be sleeping, tucked away in the rare bliss these murderous games brought.

And the only talking that was happening was the soft words Nam-Gyu continued to whisper into your ear and the even softer moans of passion that slipped from your swollen lips.

See, Nam-Gyu wasn’t an idiot despite what Thanos seems to think. Quickly he caught on to two things whilst speaking to you.

The first being, you were quite cute when nervous. And two, you just loved looking at his hands.

So what better way to really stretch his point across but using his beloved fingers to stretch you open just how he liked?

“Should have done this from the start, look how cooperative you’re being..” The smile on Nam-Gyu’s face was permanent at this point, the corner of his mouth twitching with each pitiful moan you released. His rings were tossed lazily to the side, his bare fingers now pushing into your sloppy cunt so perfectly. Longer then your own, they pushed and prodded; opening you up and rubbing against your soaked walls. With each breath you were clenching, causing the smile on his face to only grow deeper.

“Scared of dying but not of some stranger finger-fucking you, huh? What a joke.”

You wanted to tell him off, how he was so mean and so wrong. But you couldn’t, not with how your mind was getting complete lost from his movements. Your teeth were grinding into your bottom lip, a metallic taste filling your mouth as time progressed. Deep moans thundered from your throat, muffled by your harsh biting. You couldn’t imagine having your little recruitment interrupted by some poor contestant just trying to get some rest.

But with the way Nam-Gyu was practically ruining you, it didn’t seem he cared much either way. He was so hellbent on coaxing you, his lips right against your ear as that damned thumb came and circled your swollen bud.

“I told you I’d look after you right, where’s my thank you?”

Your eyes widened the moment his free hand rose, pushing at your cheeks and basically forcing your lips to part. The sound you let out was a strangled mix of a moan and gasp, quickly clasping your own hand against your mouth.

Nam-Gyu chuckled on his breath, thrusting a third finger into your wet cunt as he spoke; “What? You scared of the other contestants realizing how much of a slut you are? Shouldn’t worry too much; this messy cunt is making enough noise for you.”

Your eyes were meeting the back of your skull, so fucking mean he was— yet you couldn’t help but enjoy the attention. His digits were curling inside, brushing across that special spot that caused you to shake. Your thighs were clenching harshly around his arm, rushed breaths escaping as your chest rose and fell.

“Th—thank you.. fuck— please…!” You whimpered as softly as you possibly could, glossy eyes staring up at the man. You felt accomplished the moment he drew closer, feeling the cold metal of his chain brush against your heated skin before a gentle kiss was pressed right against your cheek.

“What a good girl.. You wanna come, hm?” The hand was lowering to your throat, fingers simply wrapping around it yet not squeezing. Nam-Gyu watched in pure enjoyment at the way your head tossed back and forth in a rushed nod; how needy you were for him. What a palpable little thing, is what he thought.

“I can make that happen, you just gotta do something for me.”

More words, whispered, tempting; drifting right into your ear and hitting the same pleasurable spots right between your legs. Speaking of, you felt your peak drawing closer; a tight band resting deep in your tummy— ready to burst.

You knew what he wanted, you weren’t an idiot nor were you too fucked out to forget. Your mind was screaming at you, telling you an orgasm wasn’t worth pressing that cursed button.

Yet, for now, you weren’t thinking with your brain, but with your pussy instead.

“P—please let me join! I’ll press the button— I promise!” Another whisper-yell escaped you, desperation clinging to every word as they fled those pretty lips.

With that final confirmation Nam-Gyu was quickening the pace of his fingers, eating up the way your body convulsed, a lost look invading your eyes as you came undone. Your essence trickled down his fingers all the way to his wrist, a sticky residue that he would make sure you clean up later.

For now.. his hand rose from your throat to instead cup your cheek, rubbing his thumb right under your eye so tenderly— so sweetly.

“I knew you could do it.. just needed some encouragement, right?”

[maythedreadwolftakeyou]

thinking about Lucanis again (always). and how so much of his narrative boils down to the theme of "control". and of course also about how this applies to the Rook x Lucanis relationship.

like the first scenes with him in the game are, in theory, about freeing him from the Ossuary (although he seems to have an escape attempt already in progress at the time, they certainly weren't just letting him keep those knives on him for enrichment purposes, Rook just provided an opening/distraction he could take advantage of and crucially Rook has A Way Out of the whole place not just a cell). but ACTUALLY the purpose it to put him right into a new contract for Us, one set up by his own grandmother and first talon no less, and the person he has the MOST trouble saying no to. He's escaped torture and the Venatori for sure but he still isn't free, which I think is part of what leads to Spite's confusion/the Inner Demons plotline. He agrees to the contract but you can tell it's in many parts out of a sense of duty/mourning vs something he actively wants to do for himself. And then the FIRST real heartfelt conversation you have with him, where he tells you "even before I was captured, my life was not really my own. So much had been determined for me." But he's chaffaing at that! He thinks "to live truly is to live fully" and so directly tells you he doesn't think he's lived a life true to himself. He's been constantly smothered by the weight of expectations around him, even though he longs for more.

And then once you get him to the Lighthouse you see how this Big lack of control in his life comes out as all these smaller frustrations. He's terrified of sleeping and downing 11 cups of coffee per hour because sleeping means he will lose control to Spite, even though Spite is shown to flee rather than fight when he feels threatened, and once calmed down, is more drawn to just benign curiosity/mischief than anything actively malicious. Like if Lucanis loses control and sleeps for a few hours he is not going to wake up surrounded by bloodshed, he's going to wake up to a belly full of candle wax because he wouldn't like Spite taste one while they were awake. Which is the other half of this--he constantly denying Spite's impulses for reasons that in some ways make sense (HE doesn't want to eat candles), but not in a way that's actually satisfying to either of them (why not just take a bite, chew for a bit, and spit it out so Spite knows they kind of suck actually?). But he CAN say no to Spite and so he does. Over and over. Spite's one of the few people he can deny things without feeling bad about it, because it's HIS body he doesn't like that has to share now (<- this is what he thinks about it at first anyway, but he's wrong, it's both of theirs and it's useless to try to hold those kind of boundaries forever. but the "no its mine" spiteful instinct is very beautifully ironic and reflective of them both and their early relationship).

And personally I think this is where his fear of his own desires and intimacy is coming from, at the root. I don't think he's afraid of the concept of being in a romance or having feelings (even if they're unusual and rare for him, this is by no means incompatible with him being demi) but I DO think he is afraid of the kind of power it gives people over you. Getting something you want means there's something else that can be taken away. Admitting your desire means the other person has the opportunity to deny that. The more you have, the more you have to lose, and he has lost again and again and again in his life--his parents, his childhood to the crows, his independence, even his future--he doesn't aspire to be first Talon but he knows the rumors. He knows his grandmother wanted it for him, not Illario. His life path has been laid out for him by others and up to this point he has simply been going along with it anyway, even though it bothers him. He COULD argue and fight Caterina and push for Illario who actually wants the job to be First Talon instead, but from The Wigmaker Job we know he doesn't. He just ignores it and pretends maybe it won't happen, without him having to do any of the work. Which is why in the end Illario is the one who has to make a move about it (and even warns Lucanis of this!!!!). Lucanis KNOWS all this makes him a target but is neither taking charge or getting off of the train tracks, just closes his eyes.

And I think THIS context is what makes the almost kiss scene in the pantry make more sense to me. Rather than being afraid of having feelings (and then NEVER addressing this in game with a Rook who pursues him anyway) or not knowing how to finish what he's started via crow seduction training, it's more like this is a pivotal moment where he can actively choose to step off the planned path of be given a job -> kill the gods -> enact revenge -> go home. even if he doesn't at that point realize that a relationship with Rook could be something that lasts long-term, the very act of doing something just for himself is what's foreign and scary and hard. It's that first step off the tracks, and even if he were to keep walking in the same direction, it means he's making a choice about it. he's accepting that one way or another it IS in his power to go along with everyone else's plans or not. Hence the hesitation, and drawing back, and needing to clear his head.

And then the rest of Rook's role in his narrative IS about giving him more and more control for himself. Inner Demons, dealing with Illario, his questlines move less towards revenge and more towards just... not being locked into one fate. Which of course Caterina comes back and immediately tries to overturn by declaring him First Talon after all, even though she and him and everyone else knows she's not ACTUALLY ready to give up her rule/decision making power yet. Which in a way is maddening because cmon I did all this work here so this sad man could have some agency in his own life just to watch him get sucked right back in (which, at least we get many directions to headcanon from here), but there's no denying that THIS version of Lucanis at least is actually going in with his eyes open now. THIS Lucanis has had a taste of life outside the Crows, and seen the politics and power dynamics in other places/organizations, and finally has emotional ties to the big picture state of the world now, both in relationship and friendship paths with Rook. He's not just hyper focused on each contract as it's given to him now, he's looking at the whole thing.

Anyway of course the beautiful culmination of all this within the romance is the lighthouse scene with Rook, where he finally is willing to let himself be vulnerable (emotionally and physically), and fall asleep without fear of what Spite's going to do in the meanwhile. He also (depending on dialogue choice) finally talks about his feelings directly with you for the first time instead of in roundabout ways (the dessert being "not enough" is it really the dessert you mean, Lucanis. is it.). Even though he is STILL reluctant to verbally admit his feelings or let Rook share their own at this point, I think that's more a narrative choice about saving those last emotional dialogue options for the big final battle. but it is another point where he does have to stop just following along and ACTIVELY choose that yes, yes sometimes loving is worth the risk of losing it. Even if someone takes it away from you later, even if you don't survive it, sometimes the love alone makes it worth it.

I have like another 5000 words I could add into about how Spite ties into all this, about how having the demon in him is something he both fears AND how it forces him to acknowledge that actually yes he DOES share the same base feelings/instincts Spite does in terms of not wanting to be told what to do. And how this in a way is part of what gives him permission to act on it since he can no longer just shove it down out of sight. but this post is long enough already so i'm just going to take the rest of this and gnaw on it all day like a chew toy I guess.

anyway. AHG. it is kind of frustrating that the culmination of his arc seems to be "and then he got the job he never wanted anyway" but I do think at least all this prepares him for it in a way Caterina actively failed to actually do on her own. He NEEDED that step away from his straightforward path. Whether he stays first talon or not, and with or without rook as a romantic partner, he's finally been able to explore ideas outside the expectations of others.

[zombieewrites]

smoking w logan...

logan howlett x reader, friends to lovers

summary: the stress of being a new professor at this school is catching up to you. luckily, you have a good friend to help you take that stress away, in more ways than one.

warnings: weed usage, fem compliments, illusions to sex

word count: 2, 574

I’m fairly new to this school. About 4 months had passed since I had first gotten my invitation from Charles. Which, of course, I happily accepted, excited at the thought of teaching my favorite subjects to people like me. I get the opportunity to share my love of literature through my teachings. The class seems to like me so far, and there’s always a few students straggling behind after class to share a laugh. Being able to connect to my students like this is a treat, and working at this school is just the cherry on top.

The classroom I teach in just so happens to be right across from Professor Howlett's room. His creaky wooden door opens and closes in between classes every period. Being right across from each other means that he and I frequently see each other. Logan often takes advantage of this opportunity to visit the classroom. He’ll do things like bring me coffee, give me papers that I copied off the printer, or just have a little chat. Sometimes, when he's on missions, I'll often sub for his class. It fills me with content to know that Logan trusts me with the care of his class. Being new to the school, I’m highly afraid of what the other professors think of me, but these small interactions with Logan take all of my insecurities away.

“There’s my favorite literature teacher right there!” Logan says with a smile, interrupting my lesson. Interactions like this were common between Logan and I, but every time they happened, the classroom went ballistic. The nosy students love to engage in Logan’s and I's friendship.

“I’m the only literature teacher here, Logan.” I respond with a blank stare, trying to hide my laugh.

“You’ll always be my favorite, though!” The man tells me with a wink before entering his own classroom to return to his teachings. I try to hide my smile and attempt to quickly pull the attention back to my lesson. This interaction made my whole class gasp and snicker.

“Ooo your boyfriend says that you're his favorite!” A student yells, resulting in the whole class to chuckle.

I giggle at their immaturity. “Alright, alright, there's no need for that. Let's get back to Pride and Prejudice now, please?”

Before I know it, the day is done. I stayed behind grading like usual. Lately, I've been so behind in my classwork that I haven't had any time to myself. As a new teacher, I feel as though I have so much to prove, and I have a strong fear of letting everyone down.

A red pen marks a check across my paper as I continue to grade another assignment. My ears are met with the sound of a knock on my door.

“What are you up to here, pretty? It's 7:45 and the sun set hours ago. All the kids are probably just about finished with dinner. You need to get your ass outta here.” Logan tells me as he leans against the doorframe.

I take a quick break from grading to look at the clock on the wall of my class. “Its 7 already? Shit I didn't even notice. I'm just grading some things right now, like always. Seems like that's all I ever do.” I respond with a chuckle, not even lifting my head up to look at him.

Logan comes behind me and begins to rub small circles on my shoulders, massaging out any tension in my body. His presence alone fills me with comfort. The knots in my back loosen with every soft touch.

“Pride and Prejudice, huh?” Logan says as he notices the papers on my desk.

“Yeah I bet your old ass was there when it was written.”

“Haha. You're very funny.” He replies in a sarcastic tone. “Damn with all these knots in your back, I gotta ask if you've been sleeping on a pile of rocks? Who's stressing you out like this?”

A sigh escapes my lips, “I don't wanna sound like I'm complaining or anything because I'm more than happy that I get to work here…it's just…all these papers are really stacking up on me…”

He continues to break up the knots in my back. Another red X on my paper. Then I feel Logan leaning down to whisper something into my ear. “Y'know with all this stress… I think you deserve a little somethin’. Lucky for you, I just went to town and restocked for us.”

I finally take a break from hunching over my papers and turn to him with a smile, already knowing what he had planned. “You don't say, Professor Howlett?”

“Yes ma’am. Got it right in my room. How bout we roll up and then after I'll help you with your papers? We can get 'em all done, even if it takes all night I'll stay here and finish for you. Promise.”

The gesture warms my heart. “That sounds perfect,” a groan leaves my lips, the stress escaping with it, “I appreciate that so much you don't even understand.”

“Yeah yeah, now c'mon and go roll cause you know I'm shit.”

We make our way down the long dimly lit halls to his room and quickly close the door behind us. Logan and I have been smoking together ever since he found me alone with a joint late at night, during one of the first weeks I was here. I'm surprised he even found me because I was hiding out on the roof of the school. Knowing him, he must've sniffed me out, hoping to get some. He told me he wouldn't snitch to Charles if he could smoke with me. I know that he wouldn't have told me either way, but I happily invited his company, especially since I wasn't familiar with anyone here yet.

These late night smoke sessions made our relationship grow stronger. We would hop from topic to topic as the smoke left our lips. Sometimes, covering our childhood, our favorite shows, war stories, gossip, and then laughing to the point of tears the next moment. He found out where I buy from, and ever since that day, he has refused to let me buy my own weed. I tried to tell him that he didn't have to do that, and he said that as long as I rolled for him, then he didn't mind.

He told me that the singular time he attempted to roll it was to impress this girl. He ended up unsuccessful, to say the least. The joint ended up covered in spit with half of the weed on the floor. By the time he told me the end of that story, my face was covered in tears of laughter. This is when I knew that this would be the beginning of a genuine friendship.

The joint is finally finished as I seal it with my tongue. Logan and I only smoke together when it's late at night and everyone is in their own respective spaces. Sneaking around like I'm a kid hiding the fact that they smoke from their parents is honestly kind of fun. It fills me up with just the right amount of adrenaline, and I'm happy that Logan is the one beside me.

We make our way to the roof, and the bright moon greets us. The night sky is clear and filled with gorgeous constellations. The chilling breeze of the night tickles my skin as I take a seat. Of course I forgot to bring a jacket. I try to hide my shiver and lessen the sound of my chattering teeth, but Logan quickly notices. He shifts to take off his brown leather jacket and wraps it around my shoulders. The warmth of his body heat was still trapped in the jacket, and it quickly comforted my senses.

“Logan, you're gonna be cold.” I pleaded.

“ I'll be just fine. Can't have you freezing to death now. Then I won't have anyone to roll for me.” He jokes.

I let out a chuckle as I took the joint out of his coat. Logan holds the lighter to the joint and cups his hands in order to hide the wind from the fire. The lighter makes a clink sound and sparks. The comforting scent fills up my nose as I take a huff. I release the smoke with a happy sigh.

“God, I needed this so much you wouldn't even understand.” I responded. My attention rests on the beautiful night stars.

I passed it to him after a few more hits. Our fingers touch, the feeling heats me up. No matter how cold it is, Logan always manages to stay hot. The joint gives me the courage to rest my head on Logan’s shoulder. The joint lets out a small sizzle as he takes a big inhale.

“Trust me, I know, sweetheart. You've been frantic all week, and I notice it even though you're damn good at hiding it.” He takes another hit in between sentences. “Plus,” Logan then suddenly takes my cold hands and intertwines my fingers with his own, “you bite your nails like crazy when you get stressed.” I look down at our joined hands in shock, trying to contain how much this is affecting me. I quickly bring my attention back to the stars in an attempt to hide my emotions. Logan and I have always shared these small touches but nothing as romantic or intimate as this before, and definitely not for this long. The tension between us has always been there, but it's easier to ignore it than shed a light on it.

The smoke leaves his lips before he passes it to me again. “Yeah I know. It's always been a bad habit of mine when I get a little anxious.” I take the j up to my lips with a long drag. With each hit, I hope that it will make my nerves melt away.

Suddenly, a soft peck is laid on my hand. This action draws my attention away from the shimmering constellations. I'm greeted with kind hazel eyes staring back at me. Logan's gaze is intense as he pays attention to my reaction. “You can't keep doing that. You know it's bad for you.” He gently tells me. Logan’s lips attach to my hand as he lays another peck. He does this as if he could take my stress away with a single kiss.

My attention is drawn to his lips as I watch him slowly drop our hands. His red glassy eyes never left my own, which were magnetized to his lips like magnets. He has me right where he wants me, and I'm more than happy to be here. I have him right where I need him. Logan’s passionate gaze leaves my breath shaky and my body fuzzy. The air is thick, and the nerves aren't going away.

“You're babysitting the joint. Are you gonna hit it or just keep holding it, darling?” He asks me, breaking me out of my thoughts. Logan always looks good, but he especially looks good when he stares at me with those low hanging glossy eyes.

“What? Oh yeah! Sorry about that, here.” I let out a breathy giggle as I passed him the joint.

He simply responds with a laugh before inhaling the smoke. Logan knows what he's doing to me. He's pulling my strings like a puppet, and I'm loving every minute of it.

In an attempt to break up the tension, I turn to Logan. “Enough about me. How are your classes going? It must get tough balancing missions and classes sometimes. I don't know how you do it, to be honest.”

“Yeah it can get you worked up a little. I've been doing it for a while now, though, so it's definitely less of a hassle than it used to be. Some missions still knock you out, though.”

“Yeah I can only imagine how that must be. Some of the missions you've told me about are absolutely insane. Can't believe you come back from all that and still teach, too."

“Well it helps when you have a pretty literature teacher holding it down while you're gone.”

I smile up at him as a laugh escapes my lips. “My God, Logan, what is up with you tonight! You got a little crush on me or something?”

“Pshhh. Don't get a big head now. You're a cocky little thing, aren't you?”

“I might be cocky but you're the one adding fuel to the fire.” I responded. The effects of the weed are hitting me strongly. My relaxation brings me the confidence to take his hand and hold the joint up to my lips. I keep eye contact with him as I draw in the smoke. He smirks down at me as a result of the action.

“Y'know I've been thinking…”

I cut him off, “Oh no, that's never good”

He looks at me with a face of fake annoyance. “With all of this stress you've got going on, it would be nice to escape for a bit. Get away from these kids for a day and hit the town on the weekend. Maybe even get some dinner.”

“Wait a minute…are you asking me out, Professor?’ I ask him with a smile on my face.

“That depends on your answer, Professor.”

“I think I can fit some time in my very busy calendar for little ‘ol Logan.”

“Aww how sweet of you.” He jokes back.

He holds the joint up to my lips and watches as I breathe in the smoke. Any kind of anxiety I had before is gone now. The air shifts and is now filled with a different kind of tension. Stars reflect in Logan’s red eyes. I stare back at him as his eyes follow my lips. I'm filled with happiness to know that he wants this just as much as me. A soft hand cups my jaw as he brings his head closer to mine. My nose is filled with the scent of Logan and weed. Our warm breaths entangle each other in the cold night.

“Gimme some.” He tells me.

I release the smoke from my lips, and he quickly attaches his lips to mine. He inhales my smoke and quickly unlocks his lips from mine, exhaling the smoke.

“Thank you, sweetheart.”

“Anytime.” I whisper back. My heart is beating out of my chest. Everything he does to me heats up my soul. That familiar fuzzy feeling greets me in between my thighs. Logan is getting tired of restraining himself, and it's easy to tell. I'm sure he can hear the way my heart erupts for him. I love this game he's playing.

Just then, he takes his hand and guides it to the back of my neck. Looking into my eyes for reassurance, I respond with a nod. Just like that, he kisses me. The kiss is strong and concentrated. Everything about the way he moves tells me that he's been wanting this for a while. His kisses are sloppy in all the right ways. Logan flicks the joint off the roof without a second thought, knowing that he has something much more valuable in his hands. He gladly explores my body and groans into my mouth with pleasure.

Logan and I most definitely didn't get around to grading those papers that night.

[luxerians]

The Last Mask (01)

Hwang In-ho/Oh Young-il/Player 001 x Reader

Chapter 01 - An Invitation

Story Masterlist

NEXT : Chapter 02

In the dead of night, when most people were asleep, you found yourself running for your life. Your heart pounded violently as you sprinted through the poorly lit alleys. Every turn, every makeshift obstacle you created, failed to shake your pursuers. Their voices cut through the stillness:

“How long do you think you can keep this up?” one of them roared.

“You can’t hide forever, you bitch!” another spat, their words seething with anger.

You didn’t dare glance back. Fear propelled you forward, your mind singularly focused on escape. The narrow alleys, illuminated by flickering streetlights, offered little comfort. You weaved around piles of garbage and shoved a loose dumpster into their path, hoping to buy precious seconds.

But as you rounded a sharp corner, your heart sank. A loan shark was already there, standing in preparation. His eyes locked onto you, and before you could react, his hands gripped you with crushing force.

You screamed and fought to free yourself, but he slammed you to the ground. The rough concrete bit into your skin, and the acrid stench of the alley filled your nose. Panic surged as you writhed beneath his weight.

The others arrived moments later, their pounding footsteps signaling your doom. Their faces were shadows of fury and determination as they descended on you. Hands clamped around your arms and legs, pinning you in place despite your frantic attempts to break free. You kicked, clawed, and twisted, but their grip was unyielding.

“Stop struggling, or we’ll make this worse for you,” one growled, tightening his hold on your arm.

Pain flared through your limbs, but desperation kept you fighting. With one arm freed, you acted on instinct. Your hand dove into the pocket of your trench coat, fingers curling around the cold, heavy handle of the gun you had hidden there.

Shaking, you pulled it out and aimed blindly, squeezing the trigger.

The gunshot shattered the night, its sharp crack echoing off the brick walls. The men holding you jerked back, their grip loosening. You didn’t hesitate. You fired again. And again.

The loan sharks stumbled away in shock, their expressions frozen in disbelief. Some fell immediately, clutching at wounds, while others tried to flee. You kept firing, your trembling hands barely able to control the recoil. The alley became a chaotic blur of noise and motion until the gun’s chamber clicked, empty.

When the chaos subsided, the silence was deafening. You stood amidst the bodies, your chest heaving, your grip on the gun tight. Blood pooled around you, glistening in the faint light, mixing with the filth of the alley. The gun, once a tool of desperation, now felt unbearably heavy in your hands.

In the distance, the wail of sirens began to rise, faint but growing louder. The sound jolted you back to reality. There was no time to think, no time to process what you had done. You had to get out of there.

With a shaky breath, you forced your legs to move. One step, then another, until you were stumbling forward. Exhaustion clawed at you, but you couldn’t stop. Not now. Not when you had a little sister to take care of. You had to keep running. You had to survive.

You managed to flee before the cops arrived. Once you were on the crowded streets of Myeongdong, you tried to act normal and blend in with the bustling crowd. The neon lights and chatter of street vendors offered some cover, but your heart still raced. You tucked the gun deeper into the pocket of your trench coat, making sure its outline wasn’t visible.

You spotted the entrance to the subway station and quickly descended the stairs. The air down there was damp and heavy, filled with the faint hum of trains in the distance. You stood against the tiled wall, and scanned your surroundings. Nobody seemed to be watching you. No signs of the loan sharks, no suspicious figures lurking nearby. For the first time in hours, you allowed yourself a small, shaky breath.

Minutes passed, and just as you started to relax, a presence appeared beside you. You flinched, your body going stiff as if a jolt of electricity had shot through you. Your eyes darted to the side, and you saw him. A man in a crisp, tailored suit. His hair was neatly combed, his shoes polished to a shine. He looked out of place in the dingy subway station, like he had just stepped out of a boardroom. But it wasn’t his appearance that unsettled you. It was his smile. Calm and knowing, as if he’d just uncovered a secret you thought was buried.

“I apologize for startling you,” he said, his voice smooth and measured. “Are you alright?”

You stared at him, your suspicion immediate. Why was this stranger talking to you? What did he want? You said nothing, your silence deliberate. His smile didn’t falter.

“You seem like someone who could use some help,” he continued. His tone was casual, but there was an edge to it, a certainty that made you uneasy. “I have a proposition for you.”

Your shoulders tensed, but curiosity won over your hesitation. “What do you want?”

He reached into his pocket, and you stiffened, but all he pulled out was a square piece of folded red paper. It was a simple Ddakji tile.

“Ddakji game,” he said. “If you win, I’ll give you 10,000 won. If I win, I get to slap you, unless you can pay me 10,000 won. Simple, isn’t it?”

You blinked, taken aback. Of all the things he could have said, this was the last you expected. You wanted to laugh, to ask if he was joking, but his expression told you he wasn’t. The idea was ridiculous, but so was your situation. You were desperate.

“Why this all of a sudden?” you asked, though your resolve was already cracking. The man’s smile widened slightly.

“Because you need the money,” he said plainly, as if reading your thoughts. “And because I think you enjoy a little risk.”

He then pulled out a second one – a blue tile this time – from his pocket. He held the two of them up, waiting for your response. Your mind raced. You had no idea who this man was or why he was doing this, but he was right about one thing: you needed the money. And if losing meant nothing worse than a slap, it felt like a gamble worth taking.

You nodded. “Okay.”

The man nodded to the two tiles. “Choose one.”

You pressed your lips in a thin line before you took the blue tile. It felt heavier than it should. It felt like a proper Ddakji tile, not the D-I-Y one people usually made on a whim. Does he carry these everywhere?

He tossed the other tile onto the floor and stepped back.

“You go first,” he said, gesturing to the tile on the ground.

You crouched down, gripping the Ddakji tile tightly. You’d played this game as a kid, but that felt like a lifetime ago. Now, it felt like everything hinged on this one throw. Taking a deep breath, you raised your hand and slammed the tile down with all your strength.

But it wasn’t enough. The Ddakji tile on the floor barely moved, let alone flipped. You sighed, feeling a mix of frustration and embarrassment as the man’s smile widened.

“A pity. Looks like it’s my turn,” he said, stepping forward and picking up his red tile. From then on, you decided to call him Mr. Suit in your mind as it seemed fitting for someone so strange yet composed.

Mr. Suit crouched down and adjusted his stance before slamming his Ddakji tile onto the ground. The impact was sharp and precise, flipping the tile on the floor with ease. You braced yourself as he stood, stepping closer to you.

Your heartbeat quickened. You squeezed your eyes shut, ready for the slap. But instead, you felt a light slap on your cheek. Surprised, you opened your eyes to see him grinning at you, his expression playful.

“Why do you look so surprised?” he asked teasingly. “I wouldn’t be rough on such a pretty face.”

Your cheeks instantly turned red. The compliment caught you off guard, a stark reminder of how long it had been since anyone had said something even remotely flattering to you. Years of overworking had left little room for anything else, let alone romantic experiences. You tried to shake off the flustered feeling, but it lingered.

“Let’s keep going,” he said, handing you your blue tile.

The game continued, and you focused hard on each throw, determined not to lose again. To your surprise, you managed to win a few rounds. With each victory, Mr. Suit handed over crisp bills, his demeanor as calm and collected as ever. By the time you’d played several rounds, you had earned a total of 70,000 won.

In the end, he handed you a card. The card was simple and it consisted of three different shapes with a phone number behind it.

“If you’re interested in more opportunities like this,” he said, “give it a call.”

You looked at the card, then back at him, unsure what to make of the situation. But before you could say anything, he tipped an imaginary hat, turned, and disappeared into the growing crowd, leaving you standing in the subway station in confusion.

You clutched the money and the card tightly, your mind racing with questions. Who was that man? And are there really other opportunities like that? Play a game and you get money? You thought.

You stared at the card for what felt like hours. Its plain design and embossed text had your full attention, though your mind was elsewhere. The same thoughts churned in your head during the train ride home, as you sat in silence with the card in your hand. Even when you finally made it back to your small apartment, you kept looking at it, the questions still swirling.

“Sis, you’re back!” a cheerful voice broke through your haze. Your twelve-year-old sister, Ji-yoo, came bounding into the room. She was all smiles, her hair tied into uneven pigtails. Despite the struggles you both faced, she always managed to stay positive.

“Oh, Ji-yoo,” you said, slipping the card into your pocket and forcing a smile. “How’s school today?”

“Today was fun!” she chirped, her grin widening. “I even learned a new game at school! It’s called Tuho. You’re good at it, right?”

You chuckled. “I do a little. Why?”

“Because I like it!” she said, dragging you toward the small dining table. “My friend showed me how it’s done and I thought it looks fun! Maybe you could teach me. Please?”

Her excitement was hard to resist. “Okay, I’ll teach you but first, help me take out the flowers in the plastic vase in my room. We don’t have a Tuho tong so that will do. For the arrows, we will use chopsticks.”

Ji-yoo’s eyes sparkled in excitement. “Okay!”

For the next hour, you taught her the basics of Tuho. Her laughter filled the room every time she failed to throw the chopsticks into the vase. For a little while, you forgot about the card and the stress weighing on your shoulders. Ji-yoo’s joy was infectious, and you found yourself genuinely enjoying the game.

When the evening grew late, you cooked dinner for the both of you, helped her with her homework and sent her to bed.

“Sis, are we going to visit mom and dad tomorrow?” she asked out of the blue as you pulled her blanket over her chest.

You smiled at her. “Yes, Ji-yoo. After your school, okay?”

Ji-yoo’s smile widened. “Okay! Good night, sis.”

“Sweet dreams, Ji-yoo.”

Once the apartment was quiet, the weight of reality returned. You sat on the edge of your bed and pulled the card out again. It felt heavier now, the simple embossed text almost daring you to act.

Was it really possible? Could you earn money just by playing games? The idea seemed absurd, but then again, so was the day you’d just had. You turned the card over in your hand, staring at the number like it might reveal some hidden secret.

The questions kept you awake long into the night, the card clutched tightly in your hand.

You decided to ignore the card for now. Life had to go on, and you couldn’t afford to be distracted. Your day after that evening returned to their usual grind – two part-time jobs and a constant, gnawing vigilance. You kept a close eye on your surroundings, scanning for any suspicious men. The image of the loan sharks still haunted you, and you knew they wouldn’t let the events in that alley slide. You had killed their men, and there would be consequences.

That late afternoon, you were standing outside Ji-yoo’s school, waiting as the last of the students spilled out into the crisp afternoon air. The playground buzzed with kids laughing and parents chatting. You spotted her instantly. Ji-yoo’s face lit up when she saw you, and she waved wildly, her tiny backpack bouncing with every step as she ran to you.

“Sis!” she yelled, crashing into your arms.

You hugged her. “How was school today?”

She pulled back, grinning. “We learned about space! Did you know Jupiter has sixty-seven moons?”

“Wow, sixty-seven?” you replied, feigning astonishment. “That’s so many, it’s like a whole moon party up there.”

Ji-yoo giggled, slipping her hand into yours as the two of you walked toward the bus stop. She chattered the entire way and you were grateful for it. It gave you something else to focus on, even if just for a moment.

The hospital loomed ahead as you approached. It wasn’t an unfamiliar sight those days. Ji-yoo’s steps slowed as you neared the entrance, her grip on your hand tightening. She glanced up at you.

“Are they feeling better today?” she asked softly.

“We’ll see,” you said, squeezing her hand. “But they’ll be happy to see us, for sure.”

Inside, the air smelled of antiseptic and faintly of something floral, like someone had tried to mask the sterility with fake cheerfulness. You navigated the corridors with practiced ease, nodding at nurses you had come to recognize. When you reached their room, you hesitated for a heartbeat before pushing the door open.

Your dad was asleep, his chest rising and falling in slow, steady breaths. The sight of him so still sent a pang through you. Faint bruises marked his cheeks and jaw, their muted colors a haunting reminder of what he’d endured. He’d always been the strong one, the one who could fix anything. Now, he looked so fragile.

Your mom, on the other hand, was awake. Her face brightened the moment she saw you both, though faint bruises shadowed her cheekbones and forehead, the discoloration stark against her pale skin.

“Oh, my girls!” she exclaimed, holding out her arms.

Ji-yoo didn’t need to be told twice. She let go of your hand and rushed to her side, throwing her arms around her as carefully as she could.

“Mommy, look! I brought you a picture I drew in class,” Ji-yoo said, pulling a crumpled piece of paper from her bag.

Your mom took it with a smile, studying the scribbled stars and planets. “It’s beautiful, sweetheart. You’re going to be an artist one day.”

Ji-yoo beamed, settling into the chair beside her. You stayed back for a moment, letting them have their moment. Then your mom’s gaze shifted to you, her smile softening.

“Come here,” she said, patting the space beside her on the bed.

You sat down, careful not to disturb the IV line taped to her arm. She took your hand in hers, her fingers cool and fragile.

“How are you, really?” she asked, her voice low enough that Ji-yoo, now engrossed in pulling the white strands from your sleeping father, didn’t hear.

You knew exactly what she was asking. Her question was about everything. Your health, how your day went, and also about the debts. The loan sharks. The weight you’d been carrying alone.

“I’m okay,” you said, keeping your voice steady.

Her eyes searched yours, not quite believing you. “You don’t have to do this alone, you know.”

“I’ve got it under control,” you lied, giving her hand a reassuring squeeze. “You just focus on getting better. That’s what matters.”

“I know this treatment must be expensive,” she said, her voice quiet but firm. “How are you going to pay this too?”

You hesitated, knowing she wasn’t wrong. “It’s not something you need to worry about, mom.”

Her grip on your hand tightened slightly. “Don’t lie to me. I know you’re struggling. With the bills, the loans… everything.”

You sighed. “I’m managing. It’s hard, but I’ll figure it out.”

“Figuring it out isn’t enough,” she pressed. “I don’t want you to do anything rash. No matter what, don’t sell your body.”

You nodded. “I know, mom. I could find money in many other ways than that. I just have to… work hard. It takes time. Right now, what matters is you and dad getting better. Don’t worry too much about me.”

She studied your face for a long moment before nodding slowly. The worry didn’t leave her eyes, but she didn’t push further.

Before she could say more, Ji-yoo’s laughter filled the room, drawing both of your attention. Your dad was awake now, a faint smile tugging at his chapped lips as Ji-yoo animatedly pointed to her drawing.

You took a deep breath, letting the moment wash over you. For now, it was enough to be there, together. The rest – the debts, the threats, the impossible weight – could wait until tomorrow or so on.

Two days passed without incident. Then, on a night like any other, you finished your shift at the convenience store and headed home. The walk back to your cramped apartment was quiet. The streets were empty, and for a moment, you let yourself believe you were safe. But the unease in your chest never really went away.

When you got home, something felt off. An envelope was waiting on the floor, just inside the door. Ji-yoo’s soft humming floated from her room, unaware of your arrival or the tension that gripped you. You bent down, picked up the envelope, and tore it open.

Inside were printed images on small sheets of paper. The sight hit you like a punch. It was you, captured in the dark alley that night – firing shots, bodies crumpling, blood pooling beneath them. The photos were grainy but damning.

Your hands shook as you unfolded the letter that came with them. The words were typed, cold and deliberate:

“You owe us. Pay up, or face the consequences. Here are your options: We report you to the police and let you explain these photos. Or we come to collect you ourselves. If that doesn’t motivate you, consider this: your little sister might just inherit your debt. She seems like a strong girl. We’re sure she’d manage.”

Your stomach churned. It wasn’t just a threat. It was a promise. They knew where you lived. They knew about Ji-yoo.

The envelope slipped from your hands, landing on the floor. Ji-yoo’s humming continued, light and carefree, completely unaware of the storm brewing in your chest. You clenched your fists, forcing yourself to breathe. You had to think. You had to act. Most of all, you had to protect her.

Mr. Suit’s words came back to you. He had promised a way out – earn money just by playing games. At the time, it sounded absurd, but now, it felt like your only option. The debt, the threats, all of it had consumed your life. You couldn’t let it take Ji-yoo too.

After dinner, you waited until Ji-yoo was busy with her homework. She sat at the small table, humming softly as she worked. Once you were sure she wouldn’t interrupt, you went to your room and locked the door. The card was in your pocket. You pulled it out and stared at the number on the back. Your hands trembled as you dialed.

The phone rang twice before someone picked up.

“Hello,” a calm, measured voice answered.

You swallowed hard. “I… got your card a couple of days ago.”

There was a brief pause. “Do you wish to participate in the game?”

“Yes,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

“If you wish to participate, please state your name and birthdate.”

 “It’s [Your Name]. I was born on [Your Birthdate].”

“Understood. Tomorrow night, at midnight, be at the bus stop near XXXX. A vehicle will pick you up.”

The call ended abruptly, leaving you sitting there in silence. The phone slipped from your hand, and you stared at the floor. Whatever you had signed up for, there was no turning back now.

The next morning (Saturday), you decided to spend the day with Ji-yoo. When you told her, her face lit up with excitement. It was rare for the two of you to have a day together, and she practically bounced around the apartment, planning everything she wanted to do.

You spent the morning playing games, watching her favorite shows, and laughing at her silly jokes. For a while, it felt normal. The weight on your shoulders lifted just enough to let you breathe.

As the sun began to set, you knew it was time. You sat Ji-yoo down on the couch, your heart heavy.

“Ji-yoo,” you said softly, trying to keep your voice steady. “I need to go away for a little while.”

Her small face twisted in confusion. “Why? Where are you going?”

You hesitated, choosing your words carefully. “I have something important I need to take care of. It might take some time, but I need you to stay with Aunt Min-hee for a while. She’ll make sure you’re safe and taken care of.”

Ji-yoo’s eyes filled with questions, but she simply nodded. “Okay. But you’ll come back, right?”

Your chest ached at her quiet acceptance. You pulled her into a tight hug, holding her like you never wanted to let go. “Of course I’ll come back. I promise. And when I do, I want to hear about all the new things you’ve learned, alright?”

She sniffled against your shoulder, then nodded. “Alright.”

You leaned back, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “You are a good girl, Ji-yoo.”

Whatever came next, you’d face it head-on. For her and for your parents.

NEXT : Chapter 02

Story Masterlist

I would love to know what you think so feel free to comment as long as you could!

Leave a comment on the masterlist post to be added to the taglist.

[weatheringandweary]

The “Jason died to teach Apollo empathy” take reallllly bothers me, because… no..? That’s not what happened..??

Ignoring the fact that Apollo was willing to take his own life minutes before in an attempt to save Meg, Piper, and Jason - he’s been putting his life on the line for others since THO.

You can make the argument that the only reason he went after Kayla and Austin was because they were his kids if you want, but even throughout The Dark Prophecy he was willing to die if it meant saving someone else. He went out of his way to save Lityerses despite the fact he was his enemy, he straight up admitted to Trophonius that he was willing to die for Meg even though she betrayed him for Nero in the prior book, and then he went back to fight for the Waystation with a broken arm because they went through so much effort in supporting him through his trials. It’s actually baffling just how easy it is for him to fall in love with humanity, it’s not something he had to learn!

Jason had stuck his neck out for Apollo in BOO because he saw injustice. He knew Zeus was looking for a scapegoat and he used what little power he had against the king of the gods to try to spare his half-brother. Jason knew that even though he had been nothing but loyal to the gods and had saved the world twice over (cough cough fighting a titan bare handed and defeating Gaea alongside the seven cough cough), he was still just a cog in the system. He was only mortal. The most change he could make to the status-quo was ensuring that the other minor gods were represented in Camp Jupiter, but then he was issued a death sentence months later, so what power did he have really?

But you know who could make a difference?

Apollo. Apollo could.

The thing is, as much as Apollo complained about being a mortal, I honestly believe he would have rejected godhood had Jason not died. He had almost died several times over and the only one who offered him any Olympian assistance was his sister. He resented the Olympians for having all the power in the world and choosing to use none of it to help him or his friends. Apollo's biggest fear - one that overruled dying in my opinion - was becoming a god again, once again a puppet of his father, and falling back into his old ways out of fear and self-preservation.

I can't even count the amount of times where he was on the brink of death and felt relief and satisfaction at the thought of everything being over. He didn't want to die, but it was an escape from having to one day stand up against his father, his abuser. It was the easier alternative even if it was ultimately the worse one.

But Jason made him promise to keep going. To remember.

He had to get back to Olympus, remember all that has been sacrificed in order to return him to godhood so that he could make a better future. He has to live forever to ensure that generation after generation of demigods have someone supporting them indefinitely. So that they would not be as fearful and powerless as he was. He has to be immortal again so that he can use his power for good, as much as that scares him.

He had to become a god so he can look Zeus in the eyes and say "No, this is never happening again."

That's what Apollo learned.

[osohchoso]

Shattered Ice

Chapter Four- Honey

Hockey player!Choso x F!reader, ex bf!Toji x F!reader

Previous | Chapter Index | Class list | Chapter 5 coming soon!

Content: Naoya warning! harassment, rumors of sexual assault (it does not happen to you and isn't described!!) confrontation, new beginnings

“You look lost,” His deep words startle you to your core. Here you are, alone and cornered. Your captor leans in close until his lips are centimeters from your ear, alcohol-tainted breath puffing against your skin. “What’s a pretty woman like you doing here all alone?” 

If you manage to make it home unscathed, Shoko better pray for her own safety.

“What…cat got your tongue?” He taunts you, his nails biting into your shoulder to keep you still. From where you are in the bar it is unlikely anyone can see your struggle, hidden away from the rest of the commotion. Maybe you could yell for help, loud enough to get Yu’s attention. Fear gets the better of you, your words getting caught in your throat and coming out as a strangled gasp, causing your attacker to let out a low chuckle. He’s getting off on your distress.  

You’re alone in this, practically defenseless. Nothing but you, the phone in your hand and a purse full of useless crap. There is no telling what he wants with you, you can only imagine the horrid scenarios based on what you have heard around campus. One thing is for sure, you are not going down without a fight. You tighten your grip on your phone as you prepare to strike. Spinning around and swinging the blunt object toward his head, it won't be very effective but may buy you enough time to escape.

He easily snatches your wrist with his other hand, a crushing grip that forces your fingers to recoil in pain and drop your phone to the hard floor below. You recognize the man before you, only one grade below you and a member of the hokey team. Piercings, blonde hair with the tips dyed dark green, confident smirk. He has a bad reputation around the school, someone all the girls know to avoid. Viper-like eyes track your every movement, watching his prey wither in his grasp.

“Useless,” He spits, looking down at your measly attempt at an attack. Your weapon of choice shattered on the floor below. Your chest heaving and heart racing as you realize you’re about to uncover if the rumors spread around KU are true.

“Zenin!” A booming male voice calls to him, steps growing louder as a third person joins the confrontation. “Time for you to leave.” The man continues sternly.

You recognize his scent before you even see him. A familiar combination of cigarettes and cloves, easing your nerves slightly. Arms crossed over his chest as he glares at the scene in front of him.

“Naoya, I said go” Choso raises his voice enough to send a chill racing down your spine, even though it wasn’t directed toward you in the slightest. Naoya finally releases your hand, irritated lines and half-moon indents decorate your wrist as evidence of his death hold. He casts you and Choso one last shifty glance before slinking away toward the bar exit. 

Choso returns his attention to you once your attacker is far away. His once fearsome gaze softened into something of worry as he looked you over. He tentatively reaches a hand toward yours but quickly retracted it to the confines of his pocket. 

“Are you okay?” He asks hesitantly even though he knows your answer. You were left trembling after the whole encounter, trying to put on a brave face after the fact. If it wasn’t for Choso, you could be in a very different situation right now.

“I’m fine,” you whisper hoarsely. He gives you a look that screams ‘I don't believe you’ but doesn’t try pushing further. Not wanting to add any more stress to the ordeal. You tug your sleeve down, covering the marks engraved into your skin that will certainly be bruises by tomorrow morning. “Just a little shaken up.” You lie through gritted teeth.

“Sorry about that” He bends down and picks your phone up off the floor, turning it over to reveal an intricate web of cracks stretching across the length of the black screen. He clicks the button on the side to test it, instead of your usual lock screen display, bright colors of green and red flash along the break lines. “Oh…it’s broken broken,” He powers it off and hands it back to you, and you tuck the worthless device inside your purse. 

“Your friend is an asshole” You huff, a crease forming between your brows. 

“He’s not my friend.” He huffs, glaring toward the door as if to check if Naoya actually left. “Just because we play on the same team doesn’t make us friends. You couldn’t pay me to be his friend.” He snorts. “But I’m still sorry about your phone,” He continued, a guilty look on his face as if he personally smashed the screen. 

“It’s fine, I can get a new one.” You dismiss the whole situation; it’s just a phone after all. It can be replaced easily. Tomorrow morning you can just call home using one of your roommate’s phones and ask your dad to send you a new one. The new model just came out a few months ago too, so it was time to upgrade anyways. Choso gives you an almost skeptical look as you act so nonchalantly about the damaged item. 

“You should report Naoya too. Treating girls like that is unacceptable, you did nothing to deserve that.”

“I will.” You won’t. None of the girls ever do. If just one of the girls he harassed confessed to the school staff, the man would have been kicked from the team by now. Possibly even from the University, losing his scholarship and disgracing the Zenin name. But no one ever does. Even though it can be reported anonymously, many still fear what consequences could arise if Naoya found out who reported him. 

“It’s late. Shouldn’t you be going home by now?” He takes a step closer to you, attempting to scan the dwindling bar patrons for Suguru or Shoko. 

“It’s no use. They left me…again!” You let out a loud sigh. Not only did they leave you alone in a bar full of drunk college men, but now you are stuck with an unusable phone leaving you with no way of calling a ride back to the dorms. The bar isn’t that far from campus, but that is by car. Walking from here to the dorms would take forever, not to mention how dangerous it would be to go alone.

“Come on, I’ll give you a ride again…just don’t make this a habit,” Choso teases with a goofy smirk, attempting to lighten the mood. And how could you say no to his offer? Riding in his beat-up car was clearly the better and safer option. 

“Yeah, that would be great. Thanks.” You follow him out into the parking lot, immediately spying the rusty black car you rode in once before. He wraps his hand around the passenger door handle and yanks it open, the door screeching as it protests the movement. 

“Are you sure you can drive?” You ask as your eyes look him up and down, searching for any sign of intoxication. 

“Don’t worry about it, I really only had the one beer you bought me and that was a while ago. I’m sober.” He was telling the truth. Once your legs are inside the car, he closes the door with a heavy shove. The car smelled just like him, along with the lingering smell of his sweat emanating from the hockey bag resting in the back seat. 

He settles into the driver's seat and starts the car, pulling out of the parking lot. An awkward silence falls over you, the air feeling thick and overbearing. How do you keep ending up in these situations with him?

The tension feels suffocating, and it's only been a few minutes. Your fingers frantically click the window switch on the interior of the door, needing to feel a cool puff of air on your face.

“Mmm sorry,” Choso hums without taking his eyes off the road. “Passenger window doesn't work; is it too warm in here?” He reaches his right hand forward to adjust the temperature to something cooler. It’s not much but the little difference seems to help. You mutter a hushed ‘thanks’ under your breath.

More silence. What should only be a 10 minute car ride is stretched out to 10 years. Hitting every stoplight possible on the way back to campus. 

Choso turns to look at you, the red light illuminating the left side of his face within the darkness of the night. Through the vibrant neon glow, you see his dark eyes narrowing as he studies your face.

“Mind telling me why you have been avoiding me for the past week?” His words suck the life out of you, so he has noticed. You had hoped he wasn’t perceptive enough to catch the subtle details, maybe seeing it as you not noticing him versus flat-out ignoring him. The quiet ones always notice everything.

“I wasn’t–” He cuts you off by saying your name, drawing each syllable out in a plea. 

“It isn’t nice to lie,” He juts his bottom lip out in an adorable pout, putting an act on to be offended. His skin bathed in a green hue as the stoplight changes, yet he refuses to move. Continuing to pout and stare in your eyes until the car behind blares their horn, forcing his focus back on the road.

“Don’t tell me…is this about that stupid party?” His face is less animated now, the usual unreadable expression in place as he continues to drive.

“Yeah” You admit quietly. 

“Seriously? It wasn’t that bad.” You open your mouth to object but he continues speaking, drowning out your protests. “Can we just start over? Forget about the whole thing and move on?” It did sound appealing and would make this project less stressful if the two of you could work together like you are meant to. 

“I thought after that night we could have became friends at least,” He whispers quietly as he pulls into the parking lot of your dorm. You just barely catch it, but you see a frown on his face. Nothing like the fake dramatic pout he was wearing earlier, a genuinely sad look that tugs at your heart strings. Maybe you have been overreacting a little. Besides, like Yu said earlier, it’s college. Who hasn’t gotten a little too crazy at a party?

He finds a spot to park close to the entrance. You unbuckle and shift in your seat to look at him.

“Sure, let’s start over. My name is Y/N, I’m your partner in public speaking. It’s nice to meet you.” You stick your hand out like this is a formal introduction, pretending to meet him for the first time. He lets out a small chuckle, his frown twitching into a tiny smile as he takes your hand and plays along. His calloused hand wrapping firmly around yours, the heat from his palm radiating into your own.

“Nice to meet you, Miss. My name is Choso Kamo, and I look forward to working with you this semester.” He shakes your hand, thoroughly enjoying following the bit. When you both release the handshake, he gazes down at his hand that was just touching yours, the black painted nail of his index finger scraping at the already chipped polish on his thumb. “Would it be too much to ask my partner to sit next to me during class?” How can someone so confident on the ice be so nervous to ask something as simple as that.

“Of course I can sit with you, Choso” You assure him softly, watching as a flicker of something flashes across his face. Hope? Appreciation? 

“Great…we should plan a day to start brainstorming ideas then. I need to check my practice schedule first but other than that and the games I’m pretty free. I can just text you–” He trails off, remembering how your phone is currently out of commission. You know it will get replaced asap but it could still take a few days, and it sounds like Choso wants to start this project sooner rather than later. 

“You have discord, right? Just message me there and we can set up a day to start.” He nods his head, confirming he does use the app. You open your purse, digging around for something he can write his username on. No paper or receipts, darn you for actually cleaning your purse out for once, the only suitable object you find is a single wrapped piece of gum you had stashed away for emergencies. You pull it out, removing the silver wrapping and holding the rectangle in front of Choso’s lips. He looks at you confused before gingerly grabbing the gum by his teeth and pulling it inside his mouth. 

“Write your username, I’ll add you tomorrow.” You instruct, holding out a red gel pen. He grabs both items and sets the paper on the center console, pen hovering over it. He chews the gum, lost in thought. 

“Don’t laugh,” He blushes lightly as the pen scrawls across the small paper. “I made my account in middle school and I don’t use it very much, so it has a cringy username.” 

“Ok, I promise.” You smile. He hands it over, the neat red lettering spelling out: BL00D_3DG3. You bite your lip; it definitely wasn't what you were expecting. He notices your internal struggle and lets his own laugh slide out.

“I know, it’s bad. I thought I was soo cool at the time. I’ll change it eventually.” He picks at his chipped nail polish again.

“No, keep it. I like it.” You flash a bright smile his way. As silly as it was, it was definitely unique. It makes you sort of nostalgic for those days when everyone had random nonsense usernames in place of the now professional and generic first name-last name combos. 

“Sure, but just for you,” he huffs. 

“Goodnight.” you tell him, pushing on the door hard. It doesn't budge, just like before.

“Gotta be rough on it.” He tells you as he leans over, shoving the door forcefully. “Goodnight.” He echos. You stand from the car, noticing the way his eyes linger on your wrists. You hadn’t realized the sleeve had started to ride up, you pull it back into place. Hopefully fast enough that he didn't notice the marks left from the earlier encounter. 

After you slam the door with a loud bang, which he insisted was the only way to close it, you turn to walk to your dorm. Pausing to turn and wave before stepping foot inside, noticing him wave back in response and how he refused to drive away until you were tucked away safely inside. 

⋆⁺₊❅.⛸️. ݁˖ .⋆⁺₊❅.⛸️. ݁˖ .⋆⁺₊❅.⛸️. ݁˖ .⋆⁺₊❅.⛸️. ݁˖ .⋆⁺₊❅.⛸️. ݁˖ .⋆⁺₊❅.⛸️. ݁˖ .

You heard it first from Satoru, who you guarantee heard from Suguru and was told not to tell a soul. Satoru knew better, but he also knew not to keep the juicy secrets away from you. But this one was a shock.

Naoya Zenin, dropped from the hockey team and awaiting disciplinary action from Kaisen University. Rumors say someone finally brought attention to his heinous deeds, and the school is thankfully taking it very seriously. Some schools might sweep it under the rug, claiming he's a ‘good student’ who made a ‘mistake’ just to keep another great player on the hockey team. Only two days after your own incident with him too. 

It makes you wonder what poor girl finally was brave enough to confront the school's higher-ups. Whoever it was, you were thankful. With that nuisance out of the picture the school will become a more peaceful place.

Satoru claims that Naoya will end up being suspended with no chance of ever being admitted back to KU. He will likely get blacklisted from every other school in a 100-mile radius too, his reputation will be ruined like he deserves. Though, with your information on the Zenin family, you know they will try to fight it. Thankfully Naoya isn’t allowed to even be on campus until the verdict of his investigation is complete. Meaning you, and all the other girls involved, can rest a little easier.

Even if somehow he is found innocent, Coach Yaga has already made a statement saying he will not be welcome back to the team. Claiming that he won't allow players to tarnish the reputation of the KU curses, the team has worked so hard to get where they are, he won't allow one bad egg to spoil the bunch.

With the sudden departure of Naoya, the team is down one player. His absence leaves a huge hole in the team and so early into the season. Sundays are normally a big practice day as the students have no other obligations like classes, but today was different. Coach Yaga canceled today’s practice to hold emergency tryouts for Naoya’s replacement. Team Captain Sukuna, along with the other seniors, are currently sitting alongside their coach as various students attempt to fill the missing spot. All the underclassmen were given the day off today.

Meaning today was the perfect day for you and Choso to work on the project. 

You don’t know what possessed you but you decided to dress a little nicer than the usual study session with friends. Pulling on your favorite light wash jeans and a long sleeve top, looking cute but still managing to pull off a casual vibe. Your greatest assets on display.

You opened the drawers of the vanity in your bedroom, trying to locate the finishing touch of your outfit. Your favorite perfume. It was an expensive one too, a gift from your roommates on your last birthday. Even though they didn’t have to, they pooled their money together to buy it. Knowing the addicting aroma was one of your favorites. They even wrote cute birthday wishes in sharpie on the back of the bottle. Guilt swirls in your stomach when you can’t find it. Not even a memory of the last time you saw it.

Shoko calls your name loudly from the living room, getting your attention all the way in your bedroom. You quickly grab the closest perfume and apply a few spritz, smelling of honey and magnolias.

“Pigtails is here!!” She shouts at the tops of her lungs. Does she not realize he can probably hear her yelling through the thin door of the dorm? Is she asking for another scolding from you?

The second you made it home Friday night, you woke her from her dead sleep to reprimand her for abandoning you, yet again. After you explained the ordeal with Naoya, you could see the guilt in her eyes. Already blaming herself, if she had stayed with you he likely would have never even approached. By the time Utahime unleashed her wrath, Shoko was begging for forgiveness and making promises to be glued to your hip until graduation. 

“Shoko! Keep your voice down, I bet he can–” Oh, he definitely heard. Your roommate had already let him in, Choso now standing in the middle of the room, hands shoved in his pockets as he looks around the dorm. It always felt weird to see the hockey boys out of their jerseys, but Choso proved to look breathtaking no matter what he wore. Black leather boots, cuffed jeans and a faded gray band-tee. His bare arms showing even with the cold weather today, how was he not freezing?

“Ignore her, follow me,” You lead him down the hallway toward your room, away from the nosy stares of Shoko. Once inside, you shut the door behind him, just in case your roommate tried to come bother you again. You notice how he examines the room, taking in your choice of decor that perfectly reflects your personality. He still hasn’t said anything since stepping foot inside your space, just observing everything with that blank expression of his.

“Look!” You grab your shiny new phone from the bedside table, waving it in the air. “It came!” You told your family the next day, leaving out the reason for how it ended up breaking, and your dad expedited the newest model to your place right away. It arrived first thing this morning. Thankfully, you were able to recover all your data too. Losing all your pictures would be devastating but having to go through and enter everyone’s contact again would be torture. 

“I still need your number though,” you admit. You were given his contact information when he was assigned as your class partner, but you never added him during your avoidance phase. 

“Great, now you don’t have to see my stupid discord name.” He smirks slightly.

“Not if I change your contact to blood edge,” you tease, swiping across the still-default lock screen and navigating to the contacts app. 

“Not allowed,” he reaches forward and snatches it from your grasp, a playful laugh following the last syllable. He walks across the room, nose buried in your phone as he types in his number and name. When he hands it back you notice his contact name set simply to ‘Cho’.

“We should get started,” he reminds you, walking back across the room to retrieve his laptop from the bag he brought. He lowers himself to the floor at the foot of the bed, back leaning against it as he opens a blank document. You walk across the room to grab your own laptop off the desk and join him on the ground.

“I guess the first thing we need to do is decide on the topic,” You tap your nail on the laptop as you think, the professor wants a speech on a topic both of you are passionate about. Hockey seems like the obvious answer, something you enjoy watching and Choso has hands-on experience with. But something about the conversation you had with him in the alley the other night stops you from suggesting it.

You glance over at him. His eyes forward as he stares at the blank white page, lost in thought. What could you two have in common? Now that you think about it, you don't know much at all about the man next to you. Nothing other than the fact that he is a goalie and majoring in biology.

“Tell me something about yourself,” You close your laptop and turn your body to face him fully, giving him your complete attention.

“Like what?” 

“I don't know, anything really. What are your hobbies? What is something important to you? What makes you, you?” You reach forward and poke his chest, right over his heart. He flinches slightly at the touch and looks away, gathering his thoughts and calming the heat that begins to rise in his cheeks. 

“Family, family is important to me.” He begins when he turns to face you again. You nod, beckoning him to continue.

“Things haven't always been easy for us, but we have each other. I have three younger brothers. Eso is a senior in high school and Kechizu is a freshman this year. Our baby brother, Yuji, just started his first year of elementary school.” You notice the warm smile that grows across Choso’s face as he speaks fondly about his siblings. A real smile that he doesn’t even attempt to hide. “I would do anything for them, they mean everything to me.”

“Our parents passed shortly after Yuji’s birth, and we started living with our grandfather. Well, technically he’s only Yuji’s grandfather since we are just half-siblings. Still, he treats us all like his own grandkids, raising us to be men who help others. I hope one day I can make him proud.” Bit by bit, you are starting to uncover the story of Choso Kamo.

“I’m sure you will,” you add softly. He may seem a little rough around the edges, but deep down, Choso is proving to be a real softie. Someone who always puts others before himself. 

“Right…” He trails off, sounding a little embarrassed. “Well, we can’t give a whole presentation about my family, let's brainstorm some real ideas.” He puts himself back into business mode.

The next hour is spent creating a list of various topics, writing down anything and everything that comes to mind. The goal is to find a topic that will have enough content to create a lengthy speech. You come up with the idea to turn it into a persuasive argument, using this project to talk about a social issue or relevant world news. 

Choso surprised you by wanting to talk about the need for better public safety on campus, bringing up the point that there are still creeps like Naoya out there that will prey on unsuspecting victims. While you agree with his stance greatly, you turn him down. If the Zenin family caught wind of this, and you know they have their ways, they would stop at nothing to slander both you and Choso’s names.

As much as you were starting to enjoy your time with him, it was taking forever, neither of you could find a topic you could both agree on. Choso’s eyelids start to get a little heavier, yawning every couple of minutes. 

“Mmm…you smell nice.” He states shamelessly, his nostrils twitching. “Sweet…like honey.” Does he even realize what he just said out loud?

Wait…honey.

“I've got it!” You exclaim suddenly, causing Choso to jolt from his sleepy state, looking at you startled. “Bees Choso! Let's talk about the importance of bees!” It takes him a moment to register the thought, but he chuckles at your enthusiasm once he processes it.

“Sure, why not? I like bees.” There would certainly be enough information the two of you could research on the subject. Explaining what life would be like if they went extinct and advocating ways to preserve their numbers. “It’s decided then, I think that's enough work for one day. My brain is fried.” Choso shuts his laptop and stands up. 

“Oh! Before you go,” You stand up as well, moving to the stool in front of the bedroom vanity across the room. Resting on top of the cushion is a neatly folded gray hoodie, cleaned and waiting to return to its rightful owner. “Here” You toss it his way, which he easily catches from the air. 

“Thanks, I guess I’ll see you in class tomorrow.” He practically groans at the thought.

“What? Not excited to sit next to me?” You tease in response. He quickly shakes his head.

“It’s not you, it’s the class. I’m not very good with the whole…speaking in front of others.” His words get quieter, mouse-like, as he explains. 

It all makes sense now. The reason he looked so upset when he left the counselor’s office with the schedule change. Why he appeared so fidgety during the lecture, the poor guy has a fear of public speaking.

“It's not that hard, I’ll help you,” You offer a kind smile. “Besides, haven't you heard all you gotta do is imagine everyone in their underwear.”

His face immediately flushes bright red at the last comment. His amber eyes frantically tracing the outline of your body, lingering a few seconds too long in certain places. He clutches the hoodie a little harder, knuckles turning white, until it finally dawns on him how hard he was staring.

“Uh…right…” His adam’s apple bobs as he swallows thickly. “I uh…I gotta go. Bye!” He dashes out the door at incredible speed.

“Um…see you tomorrow then.” You call to him awkwardly. Had he never heard that phrase before? Did it make him uncomfortable? Turning around you realize he left in such a hurry that he left his laptop and backpack sitting on the floor. 

What a dummy. 

A few hours later, your phone rings. You're assuming it’s Choso finally realizing what he left behind. You unlock it, not even bothering to check the caller ID, and answer the call.

“Forgot something?” You tease in a sing-song voice.

“No, but you did.” Oh fuck. “What? Were you expecting someone else, princess? I didn’t peg you as someone to move on so fast.”

Toji. You should have listened to Shoko and blocked.

“I don’t want to talk to you, you know this.” You practically growl. 

“Yeah, I know. But you have been ignoring all my texts, I had to reach you somehow. You still have things over at my place, I thought you might want to come collect them.” He rattles off a list of items that were either replaceable or you exactly didn’t care if you ever saw again. All except your missing perfume. An irreplaceable gift left behind when you rushed out his door.

Checkmate.

“Fine. I’ll find a way to come get them,” you agree reluctantly. “And then we are done, I don’t want to hear from you ever again after that.” You hear him let out a low chuckle through the line.

“See you soon, beautiful”

dividers by @thyming PNGs by @thepngpixie

Taglist:  @v1x3n @lavenderdaydream97 @simplyraeblue @huang-the-geek @sodapop182 @angel04-01

A/N: Stayed up late last night working on a surprise bonus chapter! I'll be uploading that later this week!

[roanofarcc]

A CHANGE OF FATE

pairing: lottie matthews x fem!reader

summary: when you’re next up to be hunted, lottie prays for the wilderness to reconsider. 

warnings: typical yellowjackets gore/violence & references to cannibalism, the belief in the supernatural, and culty themes. something akin to a blood pact (kind of but not really). death of a made up JV girl- aka new pit girl just dropped (literally). ANGSTY but with a somewhat happy ending.

word count. 1.9k || masterlist (send me requests!)

Desperation was in high supply among the makeshift shelters you and those who remained of your high school soccer team had built. Food was in low supply, stringing each of you out on the ledge. That pain in your stomach caused an itch in everyone, a gleaming behind their wild eyes of anticipation, of a solution. The rational parts that held onto your brain with a death grip were too quiet to drown out the animalistic instinct within you. Though, it’d never be you to suggest another hunt. You were deep in the waters of the wilderness, but you had not gone completely under. To you, it was one thing to participate in the solution to everyone’s hunger, but it was another to suggest it be done. 

That burden fell onto Natalie since they all took their bow back before their cabin went down in embers. When they relinquished the title of Queen to their hunter, she made the call with the chain of command. 

You felt the heaviness in their air when you awoke that morning; the thickness of fate was almost tangible, something you were tempted to squeeze between your fingers. In your hut made of sticks and dirt, you blinked away the constant fatigue and forced yourself upright, noticing Lottie had already woken up. 

Each shelter was made big enough for two people, meaning everyone had to bunk up. Nearly everyone buddied up with who they’d been sleeping close to since the crash or who they were less likely to smother to death. 

Lottie had asked you to stay with her, and there was no chance you’d refuse. Even before the plane crash, you and Lottie had been two halves of one heart-shaped locket, knotted together so tightly that no one even attempted to untangle the two of you. 

Stepping outside, pulling your jacket and blanket tighter around your shoulders in the brisk morning air, you spotted Lottie seated around the fire with Natalie. Almost everyone else was still asleep, the sun barely up yet. 

A soft smile graced Lottie’s lips at the sight of you. She patted the space beside her on the dead log, and you joined them at the fire. The heat instantly warmed your sock-clad fingers as you held them up with the flickering flames. 

“It’s time again,” Lottie said after a beat of silence, letting you enjoy a moment of warmth before having to face reality. 

You flickered your gaze onto Nat, who nodded, jaw clenched but face neutral. A sigh escaped your lips, your breath visible in the air. Nat and Travis had continued to return to camp empty-handed, creating a larger gap between the need to maintain civility and starvation. 

“I’ll let Shauna know,” Nat said, leaving the fire. 

Turning her body towards you, Lottie grasped your cold hands in hers, holding them in the space between you two. “You’re shaking,” she said, her morning voice slightly raspy. 

It was an involuntary reaction of fear that still inhabited your body but was too weak to emote on your face. It took other forms, leaving you with trembling fingers and a gnawing feeling of teeth chewing on your gut. There were only two ways hunts went: eat or be eaten, whether you were scared or not. No amount of fear could save you, but that didn’t mean your body didn’t feel the effects of all of that fear numbed in your veins, pushed aside because of new rules and ways you’ve adopted. It lived there, just under a sheet of ice that sometimes cracked, allowing some of the fear to seep through until after the idea of you being the one to die was given to someone else. 

“Just cold,” you murmured in response. 

Lottie glanced upwards at the pale sky strewn with clouds. “The sun might come out today,” she said, returning her dark eyes to you. They filled your chest with warmth, peering into them. For a moment, looking into Lottie’s eyes made you feel back home. You could pretend you were at a sleepover, sharing your bed and gossiping under the covers. Then the wind breaks the fantasy, forcing you back to the woods. 

The morning moved sluggishly. Everyone’s cold limbs stretched in the sparse sunlight that peaked out from behind clouds once it was awake in the sky. 

When it was time for the drawing, everyone gathered around the crackling fire. The tension and desperation twisted in the air, ringing every ounce out and onto them in an invisible rain shower. 

You stood beside Lottie, twisting your hands around in front of you. You thought, once the realization came that no one was coming to rescue you, you’d make peace with death, but it remained a lump in your throat. It was possible death could be better than the reality you and your friends faced, but the urge to live hadn’t been silenced inside of you. 

Van walked around the circle slowly, each person she stopped in front of drew a card. One after one, the Queen of Hearts remained unpicked. Van stopped in front of you, her sunken eyes gazing into yours for only a moment before her head dipped and her hands holding the cards extended toward you. 

Sucking in a deep breath, you pulled the top card from the deck and twisted it to face you. 

During your time out there, many things had struck you with an icy cold dread, it had become a regular occurrence. But as you stared at the Queen of Hearts, sealing your fate, air refused to re-enter your lungs. The world blurred as you held up your death sentence, unable to see the reactions of your peers. 

“The wilderness chose.” Van’s voice cut through the sound of blood in your ears. 

Turning your head, you locked eyes with Lottie. She was shaking her head, hands clenched in fists at her sides. 

Nat approached you with a trembling chin that she tried to steady as she pulled Jackie’s necklace from her pocket. The golden chain glinted as she held it up for the wilderness to witness before she placed it around your neck, clasping it in place. 

“This isn’t right,” Lottie muttered, but it was so quiet everyone heard. 

A hand was placed on her shoulder, Shauna offering Lottie both a warning and a sorrowful look. The wilderness had spoken, had chosen you as their next hunt. There were no do-overs. 

Nat stepped back from you, holding her head high with a heaviness that shined in her frown and bloodshot eyes. “What do you choose? Surrender or a hunt?” 

The lump in your throat grew, making it almost impossible to speak for a moment. You shifted your gaze onto Lottie once more, who hadn’t taken her eyes off of you yet. The necklace felt like a weight around your neck, and your cold limbs were stiff. It would have been easier to surrender, let Shauna slide her butcher knife across your throat, and meet death with no resistance. But that choice felt wrong. It felt unnatural like something was telling you not to surrender, not yet. 

“A hunt,” you answered, your voice cracking down the middle. 

It had been decided. The girls turned their backs to gather their weapons, and you had one chance to run and see if the wilderness would change your fate. The ground was hard against your worn-out shoes as you sprinted through the maze of trees. Sunlight filtered through the scarce branches, guiding your path and your fruitless endeavor. As the cold wind kissed your face, your eyes welled up with tears. You were unsure if the tears were simply a reaction to the cold or a release of the emotions you’d been holding close since you arrived there. 

You stumbled upon a crossroads as the feral cries of your teammates rang somewhere behind you. They were approaching fast, gaining on you. You made a right, stumbling down a steep hill until you reached the bottom. 

The cries and yells rained down on you from the top of the hill, axes, knives, and any other weapon they had found or fashioned were clutched tightly in their palms. Somehow, despite the ache in your legs, you continued to run. The pathway ahead was covered in a thick layer of rotting leaves. You don’t know what it was, exactly, why alarm bells sounded when you started running towards the leaves, not thinking much of anything except you being hunted. But just as your teammates closed in and the toe of your shoe touched the edge of the blanket of leaves, you banked hard left, all but throwing your body into the dead plants and avoiding the leaves. 

The group veered left to follow you, but one of the girls, Arasha, didn’t slow as she barreled onto the blanket of leaves. The ground disappeared underneath her as Arash screamed, plummeting into a pit. 

“Stop!” Lottie yelled with so much force it made everyone freeze where they were. You stopped too, having watched Arash fall. 

No one moved for a moment until Misty shook herself out of her feral daze and crept to the side of the gaping pit. Over her shoulder, she looked back at the group. “The wilderness has chosen another,” she announced. The girls and Travis dropped their weapons aimed at you just as your legs gave out.

Your breath was ragged, and tears streamed down your cheeks as you sat in the frozen dirt. A hand suddenly cupped your cheek, a little warmer than your windburned skin. Lottie kneeled in front of you with a breath of what you thought sounded like relief. 

“I told you it wasn’t right,” she whispered, leaning forward to press her forehead against yours. You closed your eyes, feeling grounded by the gentle rubbing of her thumb against your cheek. Her other hand gripped the hem of your jacket, like she was scared if she wasn’t holding onto you, you’d have to run again. 

Once your heart settled just slightly, the adrenaline fading enough to focus, you blinked open your eyes and noticed a deep crimson stain forming on the fabric of your jacket. 

You took Lottie's hand, turning it so her palm was facing upwards. A large cut had been made down the center of her palm, leaking blood out of the wound. “What did you do?” you whispered, not wanting to catch the attention of the other girls, who were hauling Arasha’s body out of the pit. 

“I had to try something,” Lottie said. “It couldn’t take you too.” 

You pressed your hand over her palm, lacing your fingers together. Lottie hissed in pain but squeezed your hand tightly so you wouldn’t let go. The woods creaked and moaned around you, noises of the wild and something else that lived among it. Strings of fate fluttered in the wind, tied to each person stranded in the woods, pulling them taught and cutting them one by one. Your string had been spared while Arasha’s was severed, serving her up as the next Yellowjacket to keep the rest of them alive. 

That night, smelling like smoke, you and Lottie lay side by side in your small shelter. You had wrapped her hand with fabric, Jackie’s necklace was returned to Nat’s pocket, and the fire smoldered in the wind. 

Lottie’s banded hand stayed wrapped tight around your torso as your head was fixed in the crook of her shoulder. The wilderness continued to work in its ways that you nor anyone understood, but it, for whatever reason, continued to keep you and Lottie in arms reach, held tight and alive. Lottie had made sure of that. 

[graceisinthelibrary]

For @royalbesties

From the "Send me a prompt, get a drabble" challenge. She asked for no 8, "How long were you planning on hiding this`"

I hope you will like it. It's set after episode 6 of Series 5.

It's not the first time I play with this idea, but it doesn't seem to leave me....

“How long were you planning on hiding this?” The question left him mortified. There was still enough elderberry wine in his system to make his head pound, but he wasn’t as drunk as before. Somehow he had made it up the stairs into his room for a nap. Now he was hangover and she had offered to look after the cuts all over his arms, face, and shoulder. He didn’t mind the little indulgence, but he had completely forgotten that her offer to treat his minor wounds meant he had to take off his shirt - well, what was left of it after the hike he and Tris had made through the Dales.  

After a decade of sharing his home with a woman like Audrey Hall, he should have known that nothing, truly nothing, escaped her notice. How she did it was a mystery to him, but his mother used to say that women were more perceptive than men and maybe that was the key. It didn’t matter now, because his housekeeper had found out his secret within less than a week’s time and it was no one else’s fault but his own. 

“Seriously, Mr Farnon…” She seemed a little embarrassed, at any rate flustered. She put down the small bottle with her witch’s ointment and disposed of the pad she used to apply it. 

“Just promise not to tell anyone,” he begged. “It’s personal!” 

“A grown man your age…” She sounded aghast and he felt how the pounding in his head intensified. Then there was the heat in his cheeks that had nothing to do with the elderberry wine. 

The comment about his age didn’t bode well with him. What was she implying? Not too long ago she had told him he had still plenty of him and now she was calling him old? 

“This has nothing to do with age,” he countered, hoping she didn’t think he was going through some sort of midlife crisis. He quickly pulled his shredded shirt over his shoulder and gulped down the coffee she had prepared for him. 

“When did you even get it?” She wondered. 

“Last week.” 

“I see…” 

He touched his right shoulder and flinched. It still hurt a little. “Oh bugger!” Sensing her eyes on him he looked up - most reluctantly - and awaited her withering assessment. If he feared anyone’s judgement it was hers. God himself could knock at his front door and tell him, he was about to go to hell and he wouldn’t mind. But she was something else. Her good opinion meant everything to him. 

“Can I… can I see it again?” She asked with a fierce blush spreading over her cheeks. To say he was surprised was an understatement. He was flabbergasted and secretly pleased. “Alright…” 

He turned his back on her and slowly pulled down the remainders of his shirt. For almost a minute she didn’t speak and he wondered if she was still there, but then he felt her fingertips on his shoulder blade and he gasped. “It’s beautiful,” she whispered. “I have to give you that.” She paused and then she added in a low voice, “Is it… did you… were it her idea?”

Her? He blew his cheeks. Did she mean Miss Grantley? Well, since she couldn’t talk about Helen, this had to be about Miss Grantley. Miss Grantley. The thought of his clumsy attempts to get her attention to prove himself - and the world - that he still got it, made him squirm. He had truly blown that one and he was definitely not eager to repeat the experience. 

“No,” he answered truthfully. “Not in the least.” 

Then again he felt her fingertips on his skin. They were tracing the outline of the horse that had been inked on his shoulder blade. A shiver flushed down his spine.   

“It’s Vonolel…not the rat, my horse from Ypres.” 

“Handsome creature.” He couldn’t get enough of her fingers on his bare skin, but the sensation was over too quickly when she removed her hand and told him to get decent again. 

“You won’t tell anyone, will you?” He asked as he buttoned his shirt, a pretty useless action that at least gave his fingers something to do. “Not after I read the riot act to Tristan for inking a camel on his arse.” 

“Your secret’s safe with me,” she assured him with a chuckle. “How about a sandwich. I happen to have some jam…” 

[malikat24601]

“Man, I was really hoping to make some sales today,” he groused, tried to make it light in the face of his three freeloading friends. “I didn’t see any of my regulars, where the fuck is Hagan? Where is…” Billy Hargrove. Eddie shuddered, distaste at the thought of him. Hated the guy for his notoriously bad temper, his swagger and the way he thought he owned the place from the second he rolled into town. He hated the way Billy’s California blue sky eyes looked at him, always watching, predatory and hungry in a way that scared Eddie. But Hargrove was always good for it, he always paid for what Eddie carried in his beat up old lunchbox — double, if Hagan was with him, not batting an eye when Eddie upcharged Tommy just because he could.  “He graduated, man,” Jeff said, gentler than it warranted, but then they’d all been careful of the G word around Eddie after last year and his second failed attempt to escape Hawkins High; they were good friends, really, beneath it all. “He wouldn’t be caught showing his face around here anymore.” “Oh,” was all Eddie could think to say, bitterness clawing its way through his veins. No sales, no Hargrove, even he could graduate, leaving Eddie to sink further and further into the bottomless pit of despair that was Hawkins.  “Hargrove is still around,” Gareth mused. “Bet you could find him hanging out in the woods. I heard some girls talking today about how he likes to party there away from all the ‘prying eyes of this bitch ass town.’ Pretty sure he’s not afraid to go in there.” The table went quiet in the face of the woods no one went into anymore. They smoked, lost in their own thoughts. Eddie bit his lip, willing his heart to stop beating so loudly at the mere mention of it. He swallowed, put on a brave face, a wide smile.  “Well, if the woods are good enough for my finest customer, then they’re good enough for me,” Eddie said, pulling himself up to standing and bowing low over the table. “That, gentleman, is what’s called customer service, and I am nothing if not here to serve.” His three bandmates stared back at him owlishly, their faces showing varying degrees of surprise to anxiety to fear. Eddie bit back his own nerves, gathering his things and making to walk away into the trees.  “But,” Gareth started, face pale beneath his freckles. “Those are the Beast’s woods.” “Cannot a beast be tamed?” Eddie posited, winking back at Gareth who looked miserably unsure as he watched him go. “Don’t worry about it, Emerson, I’m not afraid.”  With a flourish, Eddie spun on his heels and stepped into the shadow of the trees, the little picnic table and the faces of his friends almost immediately fading from sight. He was afraid, just not of the town gossip that had sprung up around the place four years earlier, claiming the woods for one man only, the most popular boy in school — a cruel king, the Beast, they called him, a title he had more than earned in his time. Eddie didn’t care about all that, he’d never been high enough on the social ladder to earn either the Beast’s attention nor disdain, and besides, he’d heard that Harrington was washed up now, anyway.  Nobody knew that the real thing haunting these woods wasn’t a man, it was memory.

Wild Rose 🌹

A Modern (86 Baby) Retelling of Beauty and the Beast

Coming soon!

[lu-is-not-ok]

I rember my friend group once discussed if the wound cleirid event/abno fits Hong Lu

What's your opinion on this?

Hm... Let me see.

The main theme I can see in the abno is fear, sorrow, and the images the mind conjures because of them. Notably, the way the coffin turns out to be empty if the check to open it succeeds, but full of wailing people if it fails. The text in the successful check mentions feeling sympathy for whoever might be trapped and how each undone knot accompanies some sort of negative emotion, none of which happens upon failure.

This similar theme can also be seen in the removed third option for the event, where on failure the arm that grabs the Sinner and the undone knot both disappear "like mirages".

Another theme is entrapment and abandonment. There's a lot of focus put on the fact that the reason the coffin is bound up is to keep whatever is inside from escaping, and that whatever is inside is "trapped". The successful skill check text also puts an emphasis on the being inside, the one that persumably is the owner of the arms, pleading to not be left behind, yet also being thankful for being left alone.

There is also the whole thing with there being multiple people trapped inside the coffin, and how it grabbing someone upon failing the check to leave it be appears to steal their voice, with the victim being described as "speechless" and what happens being that "A familiar note is added to the coffin's wailing". In a similar vein, succeeding at undoing the knot causes the one doing so to weep alongside the wailing. A theme of one's voice joining the multitude, whether by choice or by force.

So....

There's definitely some things you could connect to Hong Lu here. The themes of entrapment, the confusion between what is real and what isn't, even the idea of many being trapped in one coffin could be connected to two in one if you fancy the theory. The bit with the arms pleading to not be left behind but at the same time being thankful for it especially resonated with him I think, the way he appears to want to reach out for help by alluding to his horrible homelife, but also constantly deflecting any attempts by others to dig deeper. Plus, there's also the jewel motif with the beetle found inside the coffin.

That being said....

I honestly feel like Wailing Coffin might be an Abno that represents the Sinners as a whole. The arms reaching out of the coffin are very reminiscent of the arms that reach out from the gates of hell when we see Dante revive Sinners for the first time proper in Canto 1. The way one's voice is taken in by the wailing could represent the way Dante's voice was not only literally taken, but also the way their ticking guides the Sinners down the right path, out of their suffering. The only way the wailings within the coffin are freed is through feeling their suffering, again, very reminiscent of Dante's role with regards to the Sinners.

There's always a level of vagueness when it comes to Abnormalities that only have a Mirror Dungeon event, but I think that's my final take on it all until we learn more.

[hueningstar]

masterlist

chapter 1 chapter 2 chapter 3 chapter 4 chapter 5 chapter 6 chapter 7 chapter 8

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Synopsis : Thrown into the twisted world of the Squid Game, you must fight to survive not just for yourself but for the life growing inside you. Vulnerable yet determined, you quickly become a target in the deadly competition—until Soobin , a stoic yet dangerously obsessive player, takes an unsettling interest in you.

What begins as a protective alliance quickly turns into something darker, as Soobin’s possessiveness knows no bounds. He eliminates anyone he perceives as a threat to you or your unborn child, his twisted devotion making him both your savior and captor.

As the games progress, you find yourself torn between fear and a strange sense of safety in his obsessive embrace. But in a world where survival demands sacrifice, can you escape his suffocating love, or will you find yourself bound to the man willing to destroy the world to keep you by his side?

Pairing : Soobin × pregnant!reader

Genre : dark romance, thriller, drama

Warnings : yandere behavior, violence, possessiveness, psychological manipulation, pregnancy

────୨ৎ────

The cold air pricked at your skin as you stood among a sea of strangers, each wearing identical green uniforms marked with numbers. Yours read 222, a stark reminder that you were no longer a person—just a number in this twisted game. Around you, murmurs of panic echoed, but the masked guards lining the walls silenced any attempts at rebellion.

You clutched your stomach instinctively, the weight of your unborn child grounding you in the chaos. The fear wasn’t just for yourself—it was for the fragile life you carried. Survival wasn’t an option anymore. It was a necessity.

A loud chime rang through the arena, and a voice, cold and mechanical, reverberated around you.

> “Welcome to the first game. Follow the instructions carefully, and you might survive.”

The massive doors in front of you creaked open, revealing an open field bathed in unnatural light. A gigantic doll with lifeless, cartoonish eyes loomed at the far end. Its head swiveled unnervingly, and you felt your stomach churn as its voice rang out:

> “Red Light, Green Light.”

The rules were simple, but the stakes were impossibly high. Hesitation flickered across the faces of the players as the masked overseer continued.

> “Those who fail to follow the rules will be eliminated.”

A gunshot echoed, as if to punctuate the final word. Several players jumped, their fear palpable.

The countdown began, and your breath hitched.

“Green Light.”

The doll’s head swiveled away, its voice chirpy and mechanical. Players surged forward, some sprinting recklessly while others crept cautiously. You hesitated, feet glued to the ground. Adrenaline coursed through you, but you couldn’t afford to panic. One wrong move, and it would all be over—not just for you, but for the child growing inside you.

You forced yourself to take small, measured steps.

“Red Light.”

The sudden command froze you mid-step. A player ahead of you stumbled forward, the tiniest motion sealing their fate. The sound of a gunshot cracked through the air, and the player crumpled lifelessly to the ground.

Your knees buckled as the reality set in—this wasn’t a game. This was survival.

“Green Light.”

The doll’s chirpy voice mocked the rising tension. You moved again, slower this time, focusing on every step. Around you, players faltered, their panic causing fatal mistakes. The field grew quieter with each round, the bodies of the fallen littering the ground like discarded pawns.

You kept your focus, but each step felt heavier, the strain of your pregnancy making balance harder to maintain. The sweat on your palms made your hands slip as you instinctively braced yourself on your knees during each halt.

It was during one of those moments that you noticed him.

A tall, lean figure stood a few paces ahead, his number 230 stitched neatly across his uniform. His movements were unnervingly calm, his face devoid of the panic etched into everyone else’s. His dark eyes scanned the crowd, sharp and calculating, as though he were assessing each player like a predator stalking prey.

Your eyes met his for the briefest moment. His gaze lingered, piercing and deliberate, before he turned his attention back to the doll.

“Red Light.”

You froze again, but this time your legs trembled violently. The weight of your body shifted too far forward, and your foot slipped. Panic clawed at your throat as you felt yourself teetering.

No one around you moved to help; they couldn’t afford to. Fear made them avert their eyes, unwilling to risk their own survival.

And then, out of nowhere, a firm hand gripped your arm, steadying you.

You whipped your head around to see 230 standing beside you, his grip unwavering. His touch was cold and strong, his expression unreadable.

“Don’t move.” he muttered under his breath, his voice low and commanding.

The doll’s eyes scanned the field, but neither of you moved a muscle. The moment the doll’s head turned away again, he guided you forward, his hand never leaving your arm.

“Green Light.”

He kept pace with you, his movements deliberate and controlled. Every time you faltered, his grip tightened, his strength anchoring you. It wasn’t kindness—it was something else, something that sent a shiver down your spine.

When you finally crossed the finish line, your legs gave out, and you collapsed onto the grass. Your breath came in shallow gasps as you tried to process what had just happened.

But he didn’t let go. Instead, he crouched down beside you, his face far too close. His dark eyes held an intensity that made your skin crawl.

“Why?” you croaked, your voice trembling.

His lips curled into a faint smirk, his head tilting slightly as he regarded you like a puzzle he’d just solved.

“Because you need me,” he said simply, his tone eerily calm. “And I don’t like losing what’s mine.”

His words made your stomach twist, but before you could respond, the masked overseer’s voice boomed again, announcing the end of the game. Survivors were herded back to the dormitory, their expressions hollow and haunted.

As you shuffled back with the others, 230 stayed close, his presence looming over you like a shadow. You couldn’t shake the feeling that his help had come with a price—and that you’d already begun paying it.

As the doors closed behind you, you glanced over your shoulder, only to find him watching you. His eyes never wavered, his lips quirking into the faintest hint of a smile.

It wasn’t relief you felt—it was dread.

You couldn’t shake the feeling that you were being watched. The hairs on the back of your neck stood on end as the heavy doors slammed shut behind you. The other players shuffled in with tired, broken faces, but you couldn’t focus on them. Your mind kept drifting back to 230, the strange man who had saved you. Or had he?

His words echoed in your head: “I don’t like losing what’s mine.” What did that mean? Was he just protecting you out of some twisted sense of duty? Or was there something darker beneath that calculated gaze?

You barely had time to process the weight of the situation before the guards began herding the remaining players into the dormitory. The room was cold and sparse, lined with rows of cots, but it felt like a sanctuary compared to the brutal arena you’d just escaped.

As you made your way to an empty cot in the corner, you felt a pair of eyes follow you. You glanced around the room and found him standing just inside the door, watching. His expression was unreadable, but his eyes never left you. It was unsettling, the way he studied you as if you were his next target, his next conquest.

You hurriedly turned away, trying to ignore the growing discomfort in your chest. You needed rest. You needed to clear your mind. But the weight of everything—the game, the bloodshed, the growing fear of what might come next—kept you awake. You lay there, staring at the cold ceiling, thinking of nothing but how to survive the next round.

As the room gradually fell into a quiet lull, a soft creak of the door interrupted the silence. You didn’t need to look up to know who it was. You could feel him, like an unshakable presence in the room.

“Are you sleeping?” His voice was low, smooth, like it had been crafted just for you.

You kept your gaze fixed on the ceiling, ignoring the chill that ran down your spine.

“No.” you answered softly, your voice betraying the exhaustion you felt.

He stepped closer, his footfalls deliberate and quiet. You could hear his breathing now, calm and measured as if he were in complete control of everything around him. And that was what made you uneasy. The power he exuded, the way he walked through this hellish nightmare with such unshakable confidence.

“I could make it easier for you,” he said, his tone soft but heavy with meaning. “You don’t have to do this alone.”

You finally turned your head, catching his gaze. His expression was unnervingly calm, yet his eyes held something far more intense—a possessiveness that made your chest tighten. There was no mistaking the underlying message: he wasn’t just offering protection. He was staking his claim.

“I can take care of myself.” you replied, though the words felt hollow in your throat.

His lips curled into a small, amused smile. He wasn’t fooled by your bravado.

“No, you can’t,” he murmured, stepping closer, close enough that you could feel the heat radiating off him. His voice lowered further, almost a whisper. “And that’s exactly why you need me.”

Your pulse quickened as he loomed over you, his presence swallowing up the small space between you. You should have pushed him away. You should have screamed or told him to leave, but you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. Something about him made you freeze, made you unable to escape.

He stood there for a moment, his gaze never leaving yours, before slowly pulling away.

“I’ll be right here,” he said quietly, as if marking his territory in this game of life and death. “I won’t let anyone hurt you. Not while I’m around.”

The door clicked shut behind him, leaving you alone with your racing thoughts and a growing sense of dread. You were certain of one thing now: Soobin wasn’t here to just survive. He was here to claim you—to make sure no one else could.

As you lay back down, trying to steady your breathing, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were now tied to him, whether you wanted to be or not. And as the darkness of the night closed in around you, you wondered if you’d ever truly be able to escape him—or if you even wanted to.

────୨ৎ────

taglist : @carolinevoight @wintereals @yoseicour @yunakj @soobunni

[trans-leek-cookie]

the substance and I saw the TV glow take place in the same universe. This is nothing

[hayaku14]

pushing daisies kaishin au #2

pushing daisies au where shinichi has been able to revive dead animals, plants, even people since he was a child.

kudou "i can literally talk to the dead" shinichi

shinichi's parents didn’t exactly encouraged him to use this power. especially not in public. they’ve seen him revive and re-kill dead plants and animals in the same breath, it doesn’t take a detective to figure out what could happen near a human corpse.

but a young shinichi is curious, a young shinichi admired his father, and a young shinichi wanted to prove himself a detective. but most of all, a young shinichi wanted to help.

so when he saw his father struggle in solving a particular case, a young shinichi figured that maybe asking straight from the source would help give them a hint.

the complete horror in yusaku's eyes shinichi saw that day made him promise himself to never do it again.

shinichi realizes later on that reviving someone just for a clue on the whos, hows, and whys of their death only to touch them again, to basically kill them again, is sick and twisted and the realization leaves him feeling raw and dirty.

he then decides that if he’s gonna find out the truth, if he’s gonna bring justice, it’s not by making the victims suffer a second death. he will unravel the mystery not by magic but by logic.

the curious case of kuroba kaito

hakuba immediately contacts shinichi.

“he was...a friend. if i have to gather all the best detectives to catch his murderer then so be it.”

hakuba goes on to explain.

it was a kid heist. shots were fired. snipers. kaitou kid was caught on camera falling, as if he’d been shot, but he appears a minute later flying away on his glider with not a speck of blood on his suit. all should be well however, a few buildings away in an alleyway, the body of kuroba kaito is found dead. gunshots through the heart and chest.

a simple explanation would’ve been that the glider was a fake activated by kid’s assistant as a last ditch effort to save his legacy and this kuroba kaito was kaitou kid himself. he would’ve said it out loud but by the look on hakuba’s face, he can tell that he already connected those dots long before shinichi even stepped foot in the morgue. that wasn’t what hakuba called him for.

“can i...take a look at the body alone?”

hakuba raises an eye at him but moves to leave without questioning. "alright then. i have to check on another friend anyway. she's been...distraught ever since she heard the news and..." hakuba's words trail away as his eyes unconsciously drifted towards kuroba kaito's covered body. shinichi patiently waits through the quiet pain that he sees on hakuba. the pinch in his brows, the tenseness of his body. he must've been a really good friend.

hakuba shakes his head and turns his attention back to shinichi. "sorry, i...its been a long day. i'll leave you here then. call me if you find anything."

left alone, shinichi carefully zips open the body bag covering kaitou kid's upper body. he looked eerily similar to himself and imagining his own body cold and dead in the morgue sent a shiver down his spine. shaking his head, he pulls a chair close and reads through the file hakuba brought him.

"no witnesses. no camera. not a trace nor lead to anything. just some reports on mysterious gunshots in previous heists that lead to nowhere." they were professionals, whoever did this, shinichi thought. it was not going to be an easy case.

he takes another peek at the body. so this was kaitou kid, huh. too young to be the same as the one before his hiatus. perhaps a successor? motive could be related to his predecessor. his mother hasn't said anything of interest. does she really not know or is she protecting him? he runs his hand through his hair. there's too little information to go on...unless...

temptation rears its head. the source of information is right there in front of him. one touch and it could open up new leads to the case. an immediate disgust twists deep into his gut. he promised himself to never use it on people. to never kill. his father's haunted eyes embedded in his mind. he shouldn't. he really shouldn't. but he remembers the anguished look on hakuba's face. if he was going to do it, this might be the only good time. any longer and his touch would not revive kid. and gone along with him would be vital information to catch his murderer.

shinichi heaves a deep sigh. he has never used his abilities on dead people since that one incident as a child but he couldn't shake off the look on hakuba's face. it was now or never. shinichi reaches for kid's hand.

---

pushing daisies au #1

[schnee-gheist]

dp fanfic ideas are getting to me again goddammit