#I had one guy try to start an argument within the first 5 messages that we exchanged

[oooohno]

I’ve created my first ever online dating profile & I’m already fed up & ready to delete the app

[oreomonsterhunter]

Sick Day

Pairing: Jackson x reader

Word count: 2270

Warnings: none

Synopsis: Jackson stays home sick (and not very willingly lol)

[ 6:00 am ]

Soft gray light seeps around the curtains as you ease into wakefulness.  You stretch your arms over your head, finally registering the chime of your alarm.  But when you roll over to turn it off, you stop, a mere inch between your nose and Jackson’s back.

You frown at him, not that he can tell, since he’s not supposed to be there.  He should be at the gym, or practice, or wherever the hell he needs to be after his ungodly alarm goes off every morning.  Baffled, you poke his shoulder.  “Jackson?”  He groans, and your frown deepens.  You sit up, leaning over him, “Are you alright?  Is your schedule cancelled?”  You squeeze his arm gently to elicit a response.

Jackson cracks his eyes open to look at you, blinking rapidly.  Then suddenly his eyes are comically wide and he’s not sliding but falling out of bed and stumbling to the bathroom.  “Shit, I’m late,” he says hoarsely.

You sit there, still a bit shocked and not a little groggy, and try to make sense of things.  Then you get your act together and go to turn on the coffee machine.  When you pop your head in the bathroom, you find Jackson squinting at his phone, toothbrush hanging out the side of his mouth.  You hip-check him out of the way as you grab your own brush.  “Stop getting distracted if you’re running late,” you mumble around a mouthful of toothpaste.

Jackson starts to respond automatically, and you choke on a laugh as toothpaste dribbles down his chin.  This, of all things, seems to cause a Jackson malfunction.  He stops there, blinking at his minty goatee in the mirror.  With a sigh, you spit and go to help him, taking the toothbrush away before he drops it.  You cup his cheek while you wipe off the mess with a damp washcloth, but then you frown, placing the back of your hand on his forehead.  “Holy—Jackson, you’re burning up,” you exclaim.  You take his face between your hands and stare him down.  “Talk to me.  What’s going on, how do you feel?”

He just blinks for a moment, before shaking his head.  “I just had a headache is all.  Snoozed the alarm.  I’m totally fine, I just need to get to the studio for practice.”

“Jackson, how do you feel?” you repeat, holding him still.  You sneak a glance at his phone, still unlocked to show you his recent search for natural headache remedies.

He looks sheepish now, “Well, my head hurts.”

You raise one eyebrow at him.  “You don’t say.  What else?”

He groans, dropping his face in his hands.  “I’m fine, I promise.  Just a headache.”

“If that’s all it is, take some pain meds and get out,” you challenge him, folding your arms in what you hope is an intimidating stance.  You know bullshit when you hear it.

Somehow the pose works.  That, or Jackson vividly remembers how you chewed him out for lying and threatened to roast him alive if he ever tried it again.  “My throat hurts a bit, and I’m definitely a bit congested.  All I need is some tea and a mask and I’ll be fine,” he starts, but stops just as quickly when your glare intensifies.

You rummage around in the closet and find a thermometer, which confirms your suspicions: a fever.  “Back in bed after you finish brushing, or I’m withholding any and all sexy activities for a month,” you threaten him into compliance.  And you would absolutely uphold that threat, because you know Jackson.  He’s always hounding you to stay healthy, but is a definite member of the “do as I say, not as I do” camp of idiots.  If you don’t lay down the law now, he’ll continue working himself to death, and then he’ll really be in trouble.  Plus he’ll end up getting the other boys sick, and Jackson is enough of a handful on his own without six other boys moaning and groaning.

In the kitchen, you gulp coffee while boiling some water for tea.  Your fingers fly, tapping out a message to Jaebeom, knowing he’ll pass along the message.

Jackson’s an idiot and he’s sick, if anyone asks him to come to practice I’ll end them.

Then to Jinyoung:

Can you check on Jackson this afternoon?  I have to go to work, but would love it if you could make sure he’s still breathing (and hasn’t tried to leave the apartment).  I made kimchi jjigae last night, so there’s leftovers if you want some ❤��

Your phone pings with two positive responses right away, and you nod to yourself.  Then you pour a good spoonful of honey in the mug, grab cold medicine, and bring both to Jackson.  “Drink this, take this, and go to sleep,” you say, shoving the mug in his hands.  “There’s clementines on the counter, plus leftover soup in the fridge.  Call me if you need me, especially if you start to feel any worse.  Jinyoung will stop by around lunch, and I’ll be back from work in time for dinner.  Text me your dumb loopy fever thoughts, okay?”  You finally take a breath after spouting off instructions.  You’re worried, but now you’re running late.  And if he takes a turn for the worse, you can call out of work for the rest of the day.

Jackson just smiles up at you, and you roll your eyes.  You can’t help but smile at your precious idiot—he’s already fever loopy.  “I love you,” he says.

“I love you more.”  You press your lips to the top of his head, then dash to the closet to change into your work clothes.

Even though it’s possibly the fastest strip show in history, Jackson wolf whistles between sips of tea.  You chuckle, jiggling yourself into a pair of pants, and he grins shamelessly.

“Ok, I’m off,” you mutter, collecting various odds and ends and cursing to yourself because you’ve definitely forgotten something.

Jackson calls your name as you start to close the bedroom door, and you turn back.  His smile softens, and you swear there are hearts in his eyes.  “I love you most.”

This time, you really do laugh, and you blow him a kiss goodbye.  He’s an idiot, but he’s your idiot.

[ 11:39 am ]

You knew he was going to text you incessantly throughout the day, despite any good intentions, if only because Jackson was not well equipped to be stuck inside an empty apartment all day.  Especially when he wasn’t feeling well.  At least the texts waited until around ten, when you assume he woke up again.  You’d kept an eye out for any bad updates, but hadn’t seen anything to worry you.

After back-to-back meetings, you finally sign off and take a minute to scroll through the memes, YouTube videos, and more.  Fortunately, your phone was on silent, because he’d sent you half the internet.  The spam tells you he feels okay, all things considered.

I miss you already.  I’ve gone through all of your Spotify playlists and now I’m bored

I would spam you with bad jokes, but those don’t work over text

Why don’t we have a dog?  Can you bring me a dog on your way home from work?

Why won’t the guys text me back...did you THREATEN THEM? BABEEEEE

Babe

BABE

BABY COME BACK

YOU CAN BLAME IT ALL ON MEEEEE

...princess please answer me I’m dying and I have no one

You can’t stop the smile, knowing he’s doing his best to keep you from worrying, but also that he’s probably stir crazy.  You quickly tap out a response:

I’m glad you’re feeling better, or at least pretending.  Tell me if you feel worse.  Are you drinking water?

He sends you a selfie of him guzzling the glass you left for him.  And finally stops texting, which makes you chuckle.  A glance at the clock tells you a special visitor should be arriving soon, so you turn back to your computer to get some more work done.

Within fifteen minutes, your phone buzzes again.  Jinyoung’s update is quick and to the point: a photo of an exhausted Jackson nearly falling asleep in his soup.  That’s enough to send you over the edge, and you laugh out loud, regardless of the thin office walls.

[ 5:49 pm ]

You lock the door behind and toe off your shoes, then pad into the kitchen.  You’d stopped by the store on your way home, picking up cold medication and a few ingredients for dinner.  Jackson gives you the scare of your life, when you round the corner and find him slumped over the counter.

“Jackson!” you gasp, nearly dropping the shopping bags.

He mumbles incoherently, lifting his head and blinking blearily at you.  “Hi princess,” he says with a weak smile.

Now you do drop the bags and round the counter to reach him.  You press the back of your hand to his forehead.  “Still burning up,” you mutter.  “Jackson, why didn’t you call me?  And Jinyoung didn’t say you were this miserable.”

He shakes his head at you, hair falling limp over his forehead.  “I’m just tired.  Apparently I took a nap after he left,” he says sheepishly.  Your frown deepens.  “It’s just a cold,” he tries to reassure you.

Rolling your eyes at him, you go back to the grocery bags and retrieve the cold medication.  “I’ll make dinner and you can go right back to bed, okay?  Drink some more water.”

Jackson obeys your gruff instructions, sitting and sipping water while you throw ingredients together for a quick stew.  He tries to offer to do the dishes, but you shoo him off for a hot shower.  But he doesn’t reach your limit of irritating until he tries to convince you to sleep in the bed while he takes the couch.

“Should I move out?  That’s the only way I can be sure I won’t get sick,” you tell him, hands on your hips as you stare him down.  Jackson reluctantly puts his pillow back on the bed, prompting you to grab your own, “I’ll sleep on the couch.”

Now Jackson is the one rolling his eyes.  You huff out a laugh and watch his lips twitch, trying to hold back his smile.  “I just worry about you,” he says softly.

You can’t stay mad at that face.  Dropping the pillow, you sit on the edge of the bed, patting the space beside you.  When Jackson plops down, you bump your shoulder into his.  “I wish you would worry about yourself more.”

He knows what you’re getting at.  This isn’t the first time you’ve had this conversation—in the beginning, they were pretty fierce arguments.  The two of you are both stubborn, leading to stalemates more often than not.  Convincing Jackson to put his health before his work was one of those standoffs.

Jackson doesn’t say anything, but he bumps your shoulder back, so you know the message was received.  You smile at him, then poke his side playfully.  “I already told Jaebeom you’d be taking tomorrow off.”

He groans, falling back on the bed and throwing an arm across his face.  “I can’t afford to miss practice.  Comeback is only a few weeks away and—”

“And nothing.  You stay home until the fever is gone for twenty-four hours.  Or I’m taking you to the doctor, and they’ll tell you worse.”

He simply groans like the drama king he is, and you laugh while you take a blanket and pillow to the couch.

[ 7:24 am ]

You’re dragged into wakefulness by a crick in your neck, a sore throat, and a stuffy nose.  You groan, dragging one hand down your face in defeat.  Jackson wasn’t going to let this one go...you were in for an earful.  Rolling off the couch, you sniffle your way through your morning routine.  By the time you’ve called out of work, taken some cold medication, and sat down with your coffee, Jackson is also awake.

He does a double-take when he sees you, “Wait, shouldn’t you be at work by now?”

You grumble, sure he’s figured it out but wants to drive the point home.  “I’m sick.”

“I guess you should’ve moved out then,” he jokes, but his expression has never been more serious.  It feels like deja-vu, only Jackson is the one checking your temperature and muttering about tea.

“It’s fine, I’ve self medicated like a grown-up,” you say with a smile, but it probably looks more like a grimace.  “And I have coffee, go get yourself some tea.”

Ten minutes later, you’re staring down at a horrible green concoction.  “Jackson, I’m sorry, but what fresh hell is this?”

“Fruit, vegetables, and whatever else I could find in the fridge.  I didn’t put chicken in there, don’t worry.  I know how you feel about my shakes.”

You eye him up and down.  He doesn’t look much better than yesterday.  “You drink it.  You need to get your strength back for practice.”  Jackson pouts at you, and that’s when you figure it out.  “It’s not your fault I’m sick,” you tell him.

He scoffs, “Yes it is.”

You resist the urge to throw something at him.  Lovingly, of course.  “We’ll just have to agree to disagree then.”

“Fine.  But you’re drinking this,” he fires back.

You wince, peering into the cup again.  You’re not sure you can trust his ingredient list.  “Split it?” you ask, wearing your most angelic smile.

Jackson squirms away from you in fake disgust, “I can’t, there’s cooties!”  Then he ducks to avoid the pillow you hurl at him.

* * * * *

Masterlist

[alpacaparkaseok]

As Fate Would Have It

[1 / 5] 

Ghost

The last time I saw him was July 16, 1392. It was also the day I died. 

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➣ pairing/genre: idol!KTH x reader, past life au // feat. OT7 BTS

➣ word count: 1.3k (jus a lil bitty beginning)

➣ warnings/tags: this is gonna talk about death, but not in a super gruesome/direct way. we keep things pretty SFW over here

a/n: here we goooo! thank you guys for sticking around for this new series, I hope you enjoy it! as always, your comments, reblogs, and asks mean so much to me and really help more than you know to keep going. So please let me know how you feel about this new series! Enjoy! 💕 p.s. if you didn’t read the prologue I would recommend you do! 

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“This is a major downgrade,” you sulk while shivering beside a crowded bus stop.

           “Yeah, well,” Noa, your roommate gripes from your right, “at least you got to be royalty once. Quit complaining.”

           “I heard that Kate Middleton is on her third life, and she’s been royalty all three times!” Daeun chimes in from your left. She’s also shivering, clinging to a flimsy umbrella that’s doing a poor job of keeping the three of you safe from the rain.

           “Like what, born into royalty? Or did she manage to marry into it like this lifetime?”

           Daeun and Noa continue chattering away, throwing off multiple theories and speculating about Kate Middleton’s past lives. Of course it’s all guesswork; the details of previous lives are usually meant to be kept secret. However it provides a temporary distraction from the bad weather, which is all you can really ask for right now. Hopefully it will prove enough of a distraction to sway you from your rampant thoughts of last night’s dream.

           “Being born royal isn’t all that fun,” an elderly woman calls out as she ambles up from her seat to catch the approaching bus. It’s not the one you’re taking, that won’t be here for another couple of minutes. “My mistress saw a lot of sorrow in her day, and few remember her now. She deserved to be remembered, in my opinion. I owe her my first life.”

           You tilt your head, squinting a little as the woman gives a wistful sigh. A memory nudges you from the catacombs of your mind.

           “Who was your mistress?” The question falls from your lips before you can catch it.

           The woman blinks, smiling softly. It’s almost as though the mere thought of her past mistress brings her peace. “Iseul, the final daughter of the Goryeo dynasty.”

           The name carries a weight that comes crashing into you, both liberating and binding you to your memories. You’ve heard that name before, albeit centuries ago. And this woman…

           “Ja-young.”

           Two syllables, enormous power. The instant you utter them, the elderly woman gasps and drops her cane in shock. You rush forward, picking it up and placing it gently in her hands with a warm smile. There are tears in Ja-young’s eyes as you look at her, her old face creased with wrinkles and countless stories.

           “My…my lady…” Ja-young attempts to bow, drawing the attention of several onlookers. You grasp her shoulders, stopping her.

           “There’s no need to bow,” you reassure. “I’m just a girl now. I hold no power.”

           Ja-young shakes her head. “No, my lady. I- I owe you my first life! What you did for me-”

           “You would have done the same for me.”

           “Oh, my Lady…” Ja-young’s bottom lip quivers as she clutches your forearm with surprising strength. “My wish has been granted. For so long I’ve been waiting to meet you again. You look just as you did, all those years ago…how did I not see it sooner? So vibrant – you haven’t changed at all.”

           Noa and Daeun remain silent behind you, having experienced this before. It’s not your fault that nearly all your court from your first lifetime as the emperor’s daughter in the Goryeo dynasty have just so happened to be born within the same lifetime. Although, it does become a little odd when you cross paths with a gossipy maid or flirtatious errand boy in the produce aisle of your local grocery store.

           Life is funny that way. You’re on top of the world one moment, and living off of a diet of Mac n Cheese the next.

           “I’m happy to see you like this,” you smile. “You’ve lived a full life, it appears.”

           Ja-young inclines her head. “As I did in my first lifetime, so long ago. My Lady-”

           “I’m afraid that I’m just Hana now,” you gently correct. Despite the fact that you’re living in the 21st century, you still aren’t the most keen on the general public discovering your identity. Not when there’s potential danger still lurking out there.

           “Oh, if that’s the case then I’m Ma-ri now,” Ja-young – now Ma-ri says. “Hana, I’ve been praying for the opportunity to see you again. I’m running out of time now.”

           Time. It once seemed so infinite. And now it’s slipping through your fingertips faster than you can keep up.

           “You’ve made it to your fourth…?”

           Ma-ri nods solemnly. “And final lifetime. But I wanted to tell you, my Lady, that I kept my promise to you. I visited your grave often, I told my children stories of you. However, I wasn’t the only one who frequented the site.”

           You jump as the bus driver lets out a shrill honk, clearly impatient. Ma-ri turns around, waving him on. With a shrug and an eye-roll, the bus driver closes the doors and continues on his way. Now the bus stop is empty save for your party of four.

           “Who else visited me?” You ask, curious now at the gleam in Ma-ri’s eye. She had always been a feisty one, if you remember correctly.

           An invisible shudder runs through Ma-ri’s body as she finally delivers the message she’s waited three lifetimes to deliver. Indeed, she can pass on to the unknown now that she’s finally laid eyes on her mistress once more.

           “Sungho.”

--

           “Kim Taehyung is not a murderer!” Noa defends, crossing her arms protectively as you clench your jaw.

           “No, but Sungho was. And they’re one and the same, aren’t they?” You mirror her, also crossing your arms. “Aren’tthey?”

           Your eyes flicker across the street, toward a billboard that lauds a BTS sponsorship for all to see. However, all you see is Sungho, smiling down at you with those same dark eyes from centuries ago.

           Ma-ri left just a few minutes ago, catching a bus and leaving you with a scribbled address to visit anytime you wanted. You tucked it away safely into the pocket of your jeans before losing your mind.

           “Hana, I don’t think you should be directing your anger at Taehyung,” Daeun quietly interjects, standing just off to the side. “He’s done a lot of good in this life-”

           “You’ll understand when you’re older!” You grind out. Noa winces, but begrudgingly agrees.

           “Yeah…sorry Daeun, but you’re a first-lifer. You’ll understand the next time around. It’s hard to separate people from what they were before.”

           Daeun doesn’t argue, knowing it’s pointless. Living with seasoned lifers, as people who have lived multiple lives have been so lovingly dubbed, doesn’t allow much room for argument. Noa sports two past lives, enjoying her third. And you…

           “Is this really how you wanna live this life?” Noa says, arching a brow. “Angry at some idol philanthropist just because of what happened in your first life? C’mon, Hana. That was three lifetimes ago.”

           “You’re not suggesting that I get over it, are you?”

           “Well…”

           “Nuh-uh,” you take a step back, offended. “No way. Goryeo fell, I died, and he was there to watch everything burn to the ground. And I’m just supposed to let it go all because he’s some adored global icon?”

           “YES!” Both Noa and Daeun shout, sending a few birds flying from a nearby bush.

           You pause to think, staring daggers up at the billboard and Taehyung’s flawless features. Perhaps you would find him beautiful if it weren’t for the past marring your current viewpoint. You stare and stare, mind whirring with the possibilities of all that you could do instead of forgiving.

           “It’s no use sitting here and sulking about the past, not when I can’t do anything about it…” you start, ignoring the relieved expressions on your roommates’ faces.

           “Good, that’s good.”

           “But…”

           “No, back up. You were doing so well!”

           The corners of your lips turn up into an evil grin. “…I have an idea.”

           Daeun groans. “What’s the stupid idea now?”

           You shake your head, stepping forward as the bus rounds the corner. “I’m not telling you.”

           “Why not?”

           “Because you’ll try to stop me.”

           Noa elbows you lightly. “At least tell us what your end goal is here.”

           The bus pulls up, doors opening and a flurry of people pouring out onto the street. In the din and chaos of it all, you turn to your friends.

           “If you can’t beat them…” again, your eyes fall on the billboard, quickly finding Taehyung’s eyes among the rest. “Join ‘em.”

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[purpletaecup]

5 ☾  i don’t want you to hurt me anymore

note: fully written chapter this time! no social media pics, but in this chapter, we see a little bit more of yoongi and yn’s relationship, or at least the bit of it when they fell apart. it’s sad. :-( once again, not edited lol.

note 2: feel free to message me about the story, or ask my characters anything hehe. my account is also open to fake text requests/imagines <3 i’m bored these days lol

word count: 2,627

At the doctor’s surprising news, both Yoongi and Jungkook froze. Yoongi did not know what to say, so he turned to the spot next to him, only to realize that Jin, who had left to go to the nurse at the reception, was not there. He didn’t know how to react, especially when Jungkook was the one standing by him right now.

Jungkook himself was much more confused than he looked. He looked at Yoongi questioningly. How were you pregnant when he knew that your relationship was on the rocks before your divorce even happened? He thought the worst case scenario and blurted it out without thinking.

“She cheated on you?” He asked.

Yoongi and the doctor both turned to him in shock at his question.

Yoongi furiously shook his head. “No, she couldn’t have.” The silence after that was deafening.

“How far along did you say she was?” He turned to the doctor.

The man looked scanned through his clipboard again to make sure he had the right timeline.

“We estimate that she’s about two months along.”

2 months. That’s around the time they were completing the divorce procedures. Yoongi tries to think back on how you could have ended up pregnant. Your started becoming distant some time around August when he was getting closer and closer to Yura. Your intimacy lessened as time passed, but he knew that you couldn’t have cheated on him. What had happened in the beginning of September?

After a minute or two, his eyes widened after he finally realized what happened between them that was most likely the conception date for the pregnancy.

He remembers a warm night in the beginning of September, where he came home late and you were waiting on the couch with a finished wine glass on the table.

Flashback

By the time he had gotten home, it was obvious that you were drunk and the drunk you had a lot of words to say. He couldn’t really tell what you were saying because you started crying as soon as the words came out of her mouth, but he knew that you were upset at him. So upset that you had broken down on the floor sobbing. He’d knelt down on the floor and cupped your cheeks and lifted your face up to meet his. Your eyes were bloodshot and teary and all he heard from you at this point were sniffles and sobs.

“What’s wrong, baby? Why are you crying?” He asked, wiping the tears falling down her cheeks.

Those words had only made you cry harder.

“Because you don’t love me anymore.” You cried out in between sniffles.

The look on Yoongi’s face was a mixture of shock and hurt, but you couldn’t tell why. You were the one who was hurt, so why was he showing you a face like that?

“No, no, no baby. Who told you that? Why would you ever think that? I love you so much.” Yoongi had said to you as he desperately tried to wipe the tears that continued to flow from your eyes.

“It’s true, though, isn’t it? You don’t love me anymore and you’re with that girl from your company. You take her to all of your parties, you take her to dinners with your friends. You don’t have me in your heart anymore. Your friends don’t like me. Especially Jungkook. I don’t even know why. I’m sure even your parents don’t like me. Why do you guys hate me so much? Why does God hate me? Why would he do that to me? Am I not enough? Am I not worthy of receiving any sort of fucking love in this life?” At this point, you were practically yelling. Your lungs burned from crying and talking so much but you couldn’t really tell because the alcohol made you focus on your tears and dizziness and the man in front of you instead.

Yoongi’s eyes softened, then his brows furrowed, as if he was confused. What was there to be confused about? He hurt you, but he looked like he was the one who was hurt in this situation.

“Why do you look like that?” you asked. “Why do you look like you’re the one who got your heart broken when I’m the one who’s waiting at home for you and you don’t even have the decency to tell me where you are, or who you’re with or what time you’re coming home. Why do you get to fucking look like you’re hurt when I’m the one who has to watch you and all your fucking friends and family swoon over that woman. I’m your wife! And all I can do is sit at home and wait for you to fucking care about me. This is not how I want to live, Yoongi. I don’t deserve to be hurt like this. Not after what happened. Please, I’m so tired. It hurts so fucking much, Yoongi. Why are you doing this to me?” The crying only continued until you couldn’t breathe anymore.

Yoongi pulled your form into a tight hug, and held you like it was his dying wish. You didn’t know if you heard it properly but you thought he was crying. And he was. There were tears in his eyes because he knew that what you were saying was valid. Extremely. And he couldn’t really refute it because it was true, but that didn’t mean that he didn’t love you.

He stroked your hair until you calmed down a little more and that’s when he finally got a word in.

“Baby, I’m so sorry. I’m so fucking sorry that you had to go through that. I love you so much that it hurts my heart when I think about not having you in my life. You’re my everything and you were with me from the start, of course you have a place in my heart. You own it. I’m sorry I made you feel that way but please don’t ever doubt my love for you. Yura, she’s nothing. She’s just my friend. And you said you didn’t want to go to the parties. Jungkook and Yura are friends and they get along so that’s why I bring her. She’s become one of my closest friends but that’s just what she is. A friend. I love you, not her.”

You and Yoongi both know that he wasn’t being truthful, but you let it be because he was saying things you wanted him to say. He was reassuring you of his love for you, and even if it wasn’t true, it still gave you some temporary relief.

He put his face on the crook of your neck and muttered a million ‘sorrys’ before you moved to put your hand on his back.

“You hurt me. I don’t want you to hurt me anymore, Yoongi. I love you so much that it makes me hate myself. You made me suffer so much these past months.”

“I know, baby, and I won’t do it again. I love you so much. I’ll try harder, okay? I’ll go home earlier and I won’t go to the parties anymore. I don’t want to give up on our marriage. I want to be with you.”

The night of crying and venting out the hurt and shame and tears had ended in the both of you tangled up in bed all night, probably making up for the pain that was caused. Yoongi didn’t remember much of that night because it hurt him to think about it, but of the amount of times you had made love that night under the moonlight, one of them undoubtedly got you pregnant. He never used protection with you and that was only because he knew you were on birth control, but he had never thought about you getting pregnant, especially not after the fact that it was only a week and a half later when his lawyers brought the divorce papers to you.

End flashback

Being reminded of that night made Yoongi feel queasy. In his heart, he knew that he had told you that truth when he said he loved you and that he wanted to save your marriage, but he was tired. And you were growing distant. Both of you. He could never bring you out anywhere and you always got mad when he went with someone else, or when he was with Jungkook. Yura was there and she was so nice and bubbly and happy, and being with her made him happy. Though you both tried, the arguments increased and his frustrations bubbled until he finally decided to tell his lawyer to draw up the divorce papers.

Yoongi snapped back to the present and looked up at the doctor.

“Yeah, two months sound about right. How is she doing? How is the baby doing?” He asked.

“The fetus is doing pretty well considering the accident. We’re surprised she didn’t suffer a miscarriage because of the impact of the crash, but I guess this can be considered a miracle. To reiterate, Miss y/n is okay, just suffering from a head wound and multiple lacerations and bruises. For the next couple of days, bruises might become more prominent. We’ll be doing MRIs to check on brain activity, especially because of her head wound. Just to check if everything is okay. We don’t know how long she’ll stay unconscious for, but we’re hopeful that she’ll wake up within a couple of days, a week at most.” The doctor stated.

Yoongi nodded absentmindedly. He was quiet for some time until Jungkook spoke up.

“Are we allowed to see her?” He asked.

The doctor nodded. “Yes, you can see her. I think they’ll have wheeled her into her room right now. You can just go through that door. It’s a hallway that winds around so you’ll end up on the other side. I believe she’ll be in room 3. We only allow one visitor to stay overnight.”

“Ok, thank you so much, sir. We’ll wait for her cousin first before going to see her.” Jungkook stated.

“Thank you, doctor.” Yoongi said with a small but dull smile on his face. He truly was thankful. He didn’t know if he would have ever known that he would be a father if it wasn’t for this accident and the doctor. As sick as it sounds, he was somehow grateful that he was your emergency contact.

“It’s no problem at all. Since you are her emergency contact, we will be updating you on her progress and if anything should happen, but right now, things are looking up. Don’t worry too much. She’s alive and so is your baby. It’s a miracle.” The doctor smiled at Yoongi before waving goodbye.

Yoongi and Jungkook sat back down on the chairs trying to sink the information into their heads.

The accident. You. Near-death and pregnant. It all seemed like some sort of crazy movie plot.

“So, she didn’t cheat on you? That’s your child that she’s carrying?” Jungkook’s voice rang in Yoongi’s ears.

The accusations are ridiculous, he knows that. That’s his child that was in your belly. There was no doubt about it, and yet, for some reason, it made him feel strange.

Yoongi nodded to answer his question.

“I thought you said you guys weren’t close leading up to the divorce?” Jungkook questioned.

Yoongi shook his head. “Not for a while, but something happened. I don’t really want to talk about it in detail, but it was emotional and it got the better of both of us. It was the week before the divorce papers.”

“Oh, when you stopped coming to the parties after work, huh?”

“Yeah.”

Silence followed and stayed until the both of them heard heavy footsteps coming up to them. They look up to see Jin fast-walking to them, with a nurse trailing behind him. The same nurse who had led Yoongi here.

“She told me that they were letting visitors in for y/n, now. Did the doctors tell you anything?” He asked.

Yoongi’s face blanked. Jungkook looked at him and back at Jin and nodded.

“Let’s head to her room first and we’ll tell you what he told us.” He said.

The three of them followed the nurse around the hallway to the other side of the operating room. The walk was short, but the silence dragged on until the creaking of the door opening was all they could hear.

Yoongi walked in first and the moment he saw you, he felt sick to his stomach. Your body, pale and bruised, was covered in bandages from head to toe. Half of your head was wrapped in gauze. For the head injury, he’s assuming. There were multiple wires and needles connected to your hands. He had never, ever seen you, or anyone like this before. And it broke his heart, and then the guilt started to seep in.

He walked up to your unconscious body and took your hand, covered in all sorts of wires, in his. Somehow it felt unreal, but as the seconds passed and as his eyes passed over your still form, the reality of the accident and the pregnancy settled on his mind and in his heart.

He felt someone come up behind him and from his peripheral he can identify Jin. He looked about ready to cry, much like how Yoongi did at this moment.

“What did the doctor say?” Jin asked.

Jungkook stayed back, leaning against the door. He waited for Yoongi to answer but his eyes were locked on your body, so he decided to just speak up in place of his hyung.

“The doctor said she’s ok and is expected to wake up in the next couple of days or a week at most. No heavy damage, apparently.”

Yoongi mumbled something as he stroked your bruised fingers. Jin turned to look at him.

“What?”

“She’s pregnant.” Yoongi said, louder this time.

Jin’s eyes widened almost comically. “Pregnant, how in the hell is she pregnant? I think I would know if she was having a kid with somebody.”

“It’s mine.”

“No. There’s no way. You are divorced, and you hurt her. She would have never let you touch her when you hurt her as much as you did.” Jin’s voice got louder and louder, and the guilt that was planted in the pit of Yoongi’s stomach bloomed.

“Yeah, I know. It was one time and we were both emotionally wrecked. I made promises to her that I couldn’t keep and now here we are. But that’s my fucking kid, you can’t tell me otherwise.” Yoongi tried to keep his tone respectful, as Jin was older than him and was one of the most prominent people in your life, but he could only take so much criticism. Jin’s talked to him as if he ruined your life. As if he killed you.

“It’s her child. When she wakes up, she won’t want anything to do with you. You hurt her beyond anything you could probably even imagine in your little brain. You were off doing god knows what when she was suffering at home. That’s not your kid. It might be yours biologically, but you ruined all the chances you had of being a dad when you broke y/n’s heart.”

Every word Jin said was like a knife to his heart. It fed the flower of guilt and made it grow. When he thought about it, he couldn’t really argue because what he said was true. You were a unit before, but when he had promised to try harder, he didn’t and now you’re divorced and pregnant and you hate him and you two will be parents but in a broken family.

☽

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[iamtheempress]

Lets Talk

She nursed a nice bruise on her face in the bathroom, one that bloomed from her cheek to the top of her brow, extending a green fingertip to her cheek to heal it slowly, hopefully bringing back some natural skin tone to her cheek again.

 A normal practice for treating her wounds all her life, all while keeping herself awake and conscious with an energy drink that was half empty and the ever present feeling of anticipation. The source of anticipation lingering on that phone beside her, a burner phone she bought at the beginning of the day.

Chiaki's eyes flickered to her burner phone right next to her, waiting for a reply from a face shed only met during a fight earlier that morning with her father. 

Heroes against Villains, that old fight that will seemingly never ever cease, she cant remember why the incident happened but she just knew that she and her father were first responders along with a handful of other heroes.

 She inspects the faded mark on her face and closes the door to the bathroom, quietly as to not wake her mother who had tried to quell her worried eldest daughter, Aoi had retired to bed about an hour ago… the media had picked up on the travesty of a fight that happened earlier that day. Causing a nasty uproar from civilians and the media alike.

It was everywhere, newspapers, radio stations, the internet and she can hear the newscaster announce it clearly. "Pro Hero Witch is in the Literal Hot Seat today, is she someone we need to keep an eye on? Her power was in full effect keeping a fifteen-story building from crushing her and her battered teammate, FullCharge. Who had beaten the negligent heroin enough to make her heal him, after she did this the building she was supporting fell upon her and 5 other civilian lives, after letting the villain come to know as Dabi escape-'' she turned off the tv sick and tired of hearing of how useless she’s been, the ensuing argument she had with her family left scars on her psyche she wouldn't bat an eyelash at, she couldn't care about her reputation when she let people die on her watch. 

Useless. Lazy. A joke. 

She let those 5 civilians die so callously, she didn't know them and yet she doesn't feel as bad, atleast not right now. Casualties are a norm for heros, right?

The icing on the cake was to hear the media call her that word negatively again. 

Witch… 

A name she used to take her power back from a horrible nickname in her childhood. Now once again weighing on her like chains to the floor.

 She walked to bed holding the phone and lamenting, falling to her bed with a resounding flop.. It's her fault.. she let Dabi go, and everyone saw it.

 She let everyone down and even had her phone blown up by her friends. She turned her attention to the group chat and took a peek from behind the iron curtain of guilt. Bakugou's name was the first to catch her eye.

Bakugou: Chili. Hey dumbass answer us! We have been trying to call you all day and you leave us on read. Answer us goddammit! We don't want to confront you ourselves and see what your deal is but we will if you don't answer us for the rest of the night.

Midoriya: We will give you another 30 and we're coming over, we promise we're not going to gang up on you, Chili…That wouldn't be right. 

Chiaki: How can i trust that, you all saw my situation, no one did a damn thing to help me, i get im also the healer but that includes people defending me in order to heal at a distance or else I HAVE THE TARGET on me. I cant face any of you. 

Bakugou, Izuku, Shouto and more are typing…

She wept rubbing her eyes with her sleeve and making her tear up. Out of everyone… she assumed someone would understand but they all seemed to give her the same look, it made her heart stop. Once again she's the bad guy in a situation she lost control over. With guilt in her heart, she recalled the last moments before he got away. 

Dabi got her father off of her. No hesitation, blasted him clean off of her with enough force it could have singed her head to toe, but he didn’t. She went to get up and saw her father immolated in blue flames as she turned to see the same man she was sent to apprehend was standing fixed about 10 feet from her, his eyes trained solid on her. She looks up at the buildinh started to grown from the integrity being lost from the fight, it began to collapse down on them until she suspended it above the both of them, mere feet from his head; they stared at one another like deer in headlights. A sinister smirk spread across his features before disappearing from her view, in the kick up of dirt and rubble, 

Chiaki couldn’t bring herself to apprehend him. 

Why..? Did he see the desperation in her eyes or the fact that she barely had a leg to stand on when her own father took her down a size, when he saw insubordination over saving herself and not her father who was completely fine? Or was there another ulterior motive to keeping her alive?

Upon trying to close her eyes, and hopefully forget about this whole day.  

The burner phone buzzed to life. 

The screen could have been the brightest thing in the room, a beacon in the night beckoning her. Distant thunder rumbled to indicate the dire decision she's made, as well as a storm that was approaching.

 Her heart stopped, she lifted the phone slightly and slid her thumb over the screen. To see the text message from an unavailable number. 

“How is that eye feeling, Witch?” 

The text read, her fingers flew across the keyboard. 

“It’s been better, I fixed it up. Is this really Dabi?” upon sending the message the text came up as read. Is she really thinking of doing this… he messaged her back quickly. “Maybe I am, I have seen the news today and that shot of you and I standing before the building collapsed on us was cinematic so I have to give you props for that. I’m guessing the reason you wanted to speak to me was not make pleasantries and talk about our days.” 

“You want to join the League.” 

There it is. The question that lain heavily upon her mind. Shed never considered it as much as she has recently. The ridicule of her graduating class, her power seen as something not all heroes should use for good. She proved time and time again how she is not something to worry about.. But here she was.. Being abused and taken advantage of by the people she cared for. 

“Yes. I do.” She sent it with no hesitation and sat up in her bed looking down upon the phone, he made quick work of messaging her back, again. 

“We havent recruited anyone worth our time in a while. From what I saw recently as well as today. We were considering reaching out to you..but this works much better. Meet tonight?” Her golden eyes widened and her mouth popped open out of sheer shock. “Around what time? Ill be there” She stands up, with a loud crack of lightning the rain poured outside, she cursed and saw a location pop up on her phone.

An old and run down apartment complex outside of city limits. “Now. Get going. Text me when you're close.” Chiaki sprung out of bed without a second thought. Redressing herself in simple attire, something to not be seen on the streets so easily especially at night. Black leggings, worn in combat boots her mother gave her, a large black hoodie and that burner phone.

 While tying her hair up in a bun she saw her phone, the one with her best friends messaging her… and Midoriya’s name front and center..

Izuku: “Hey, cmon, Chili. We know you’re there.. We saw what happened and we want to know if your alright…We can see you reading our messages”

Izuku: What happened with your dad wasn't right but something doesn't add up from that fight, Chili.”

Bakugou: “It makes just as little sense to me too dumbass! Why did he spare you and go for FullCharge.”

Bakugou: “You better not have done something youll regret dumbass we cant lose you!”

Kiri: “I already have Shouto were on our way to talk to you, Spooky, were not mad..”

Her heart stopped in her throat as she started typing to them. She could see them all stop typing in unison. 

“Theres nothing to talk about. You all have made up your mind about me..i can see it. I sound like im just a problem to all of you. Consider me gone.” Chiaki tossed her old phone to the bed and scrawled a note. 

“I loved you all.. I'm sorry I'm not who you wanted me to be.”

With one message her phone began to blow up. Without looking back, she was gone. Hopping from her window to the road below with a splash into a puddle and starting her jog, leaving the only home she's known her whole damn life, as well as leaving her hero life behind her.

About a solid 30 minutes later she noticed she saw the buildings become more and more dilapidated marked with graffiti as sirens shrieked down streets and seedy characters crept behind alleyways, the city limits were within a mile away, and so was the old apartment building. 

Impatient and eager to meet him face to face, she messaged him.. "About a block or two away." she pulled her hood up as she exited a mini markets awning that was closed, rain started to shower down upon her, her light hair hidden beneath the oversized hood, the old marquis sign coming into sight. 

The phone vibrated in her pocket, Chiaki pulled it out and the words shone bright across her face. “You better not be some spy.. I won’t be too happy. So in your best interest, i'd be 100% transparent with me.”  She texts back quickly. “I am an open book and got little to hide.”

The text was read and the old marquis was above her, “No turning back now… the guys will be looking for me in no time.” She said to herself and entered the lobby of the closed apartment building, through the heavy wooden doors. It looked like it used to be grand but now it was so in disrepair that the wallpaper was torn back from walls and holes were created from years of neglect. 

Chiaki pulled her hood back and looked around, listening to the silence of the apartment, she took a breath and emanated a glow from her hands, her fingers and thumb lit up like bright green glow sticks.

From behind a darkened figure glided his scarred palm across the tattered wall approaching her slowly, he speaks up, cutting the silence and startling her. "Ah..There you are, you certainly didn't waste your time, Witch" she gasped and whipped around to see him, Dabi. She let out a nervous laugh and took a step forward, if she were not in this situation she wouldn't hesitate to take him down but this instance she felt on equal ground to him so she felt no threat.

 "I don’t dodge opportunities, especially ones like this, I would have contacted someone sooner but I wanted a reason to do this.. And you seemed like someone I wanted to contact first hand." Dabi approaches her until he is within mere feet of Chiaki, his feet shuffling with each stride, he's easily taller than her by more than a couple inches, being 5”2’ is sometimes a hindrance.

He blows air out of his nose with a laugh. “You were in luck then.. I had my eye on you for a while and finding intel for you was far more complicated than we expected. Chiaki Nakamura is it?”  one hand stuffed into his pants pocket and the other out to gesture towards her, his scarred hand fanned out, talking with his hands was natural for him to do it seems. His cyan blue eyes raking down her front and back to her eyes. Unblinking and just as dark and spellbinding as before, all the while being intensely overwhelming in every aspect physical. Chiaki’s heart bounced in her chest to her throat. 

His head lulls to the side.

 "Thats my name..” The young pro speaks softly, Dabi noticed the apprehension in her voice,"Oh are you nervous little Witch..?"  he didn't need her scurrying off or anything so he took to sauntering slowly around her, sizing her up like a hungry shark. She didn’t speak but caught his eyes through his black hair that curtained his eyes. “Just a bit but if i were any more scared i wouldn’t be here..” He looked upon her glowing green hands, it made her mildly conscious of the fact that they were shaking.

“Then my reputation precedes me even to fresh faces like you.” He says with a hoarse chuckle, he backs up with his arms spread open, she catches a glimpse of his long scarred arms, they flopped back down to his sides, She laughs gently in turn, her eyes fixed on his face, being this close she could see the gold sheen to the staples on his mouth and under his eyes. 

“If that nervous behavior is because you’re scared and having second thoughts about this.. And want to go back to playing around as a hero, i won't hesitate to fry you where you stand, but i'm hoping you're using that common sense of yours so i don't have to.” She listens intently, unwavering and dimming her hands back down, as to not allow her quirk to radiate outside the building.. Dabi’s mouth doesn’t even move beyond a normal straight line but his eyes say everything: He doesn’t see her as a stranger.. Despite this being their first time meeting amicably.

 “rest assured i won’t hurt you, from what I have seen already we need someone with a quirk like yours around, but when it comes to me bringing you back to the bar.. They won’t allow you in unless I check you for a wire, lift your arms.” He instructs and she lifts her arms just enough for him.

 His hands starting to traverse her arms and waist make her face swell with heat, a much more embarrassing position to be in… He was thorough and rough with the patdown, his face remained the same unchanging and stoic, her eyes trained on his face and the rough scars that covered the bottom portion of his face to the part directly under his tear ducts. Besides that he doesn't look bad.. The scars only add that intense look to him, the reason why people were scared of his looks. 

“I wanted to know something..” She caught his attention with a low hum, his brow raising and his lips curling upward. “What was the deal with you getting my father off of me..why didnt you attack me.” His hands finished patting down her body and he tuts her pulling the burner phone from her pocket.

 “You see.. That moment was televised and the moments leading up were not, and if they were, they didn't televise your abuse period or the reason behind it. It was pretty tragic, I heard your father's harsh words.. even more brutal pounding id say, he blocked all of your defences, your little friends didn't come for your rescue, they stood around." She stood stock still listening to him,

"Our Pro Hero lil Witch being ‘saved’ by me when i had enough of seeing someone who is more useful then her partners let on, being beaten to a pulp, and then when things seemed to be working in your favor and the fabled heroes would have gotten me, you in turn...stopped an entire highrise building from squishing me to death.” He leans forward and drops his voice an octave, dipping into a form of seductive and joking. 

“Kinda humiliating isn’t it? Being saved by a well known villain isn't really what the public wants to see.." he shrugs and steps back looks down at his palm, his long fingers moving around trying to catch her attention like he could light a flame at any moment,  with the other hand in his pocket. "I saw someone who needed help in more ways than one.” Her eyes widened as he stuffed the phone into his pocket “I saw someone who I had my eye on for a while being beaten for not doing something as useful as aiding her teammate… and for her own safety right?” He questions as he leans back against the wall adjacent to her.

 “Yeah.. that's right.. How do you know all that? I mean like, not alot of people know that about my quirk, i cant heal at a distance and provide backup unless i have backup...” He snaps his fingers and points at her. “Exactly my point. Your dear old dad didn't take his much more volatile daughter into account and only used you as a support to him, fueling his ego and making you look bad to the rest of the world.” his demeanor was so foreign to her, he spoke so eloquently and with conviction, a sadistic and perverse form of understanding that drew her in like a super magnet.

 She stood blanched, thunderstruck by how he's describing the situation to her, It's like he's in her head reading every emotion as plain on her face. “Yes. He never took me seriously… as a hero.. No one really ever did.” Dabi's eyes softened as their eyes remained locked in a stare of...mutual understanding on his part… she knew little of his past or who he was, but the weight of not being good enough or a lost cause caused his fists to clench.. he not dare ask anything personal yet.. he has a job to do and earn her trust and read her and her situation like a book. Foreshadowing the type of person she was made to be over years of unfair treatment and situations outside of their control.

 “Getting closer.. Go on, Witch.” She swallowed air and kept spilling her guts..  “I use my quirk to even help anyone or… do something for the good of others and its never highlighted in the slightest, no job well done or whatever. No sort of fanfare or recognition, i come home and.. get judged and told I'm not as good as… as him, from him.” SHe clasps her hands together and opens them up again, Dabi’s eyes watching the little light show from her fingertips and then fade away again. The more his eyes looked to her hands the more he wanted to see the beautiful little auras again, it was then Dabi realized her quirk is easy to be triggered, or atleast constantly active. “But when… i do one thing thats out of character for a… normal pro hero… all eyes are on you..and I was treated like a...pariah” 

Dabi nods his head and his smooth voice lulled her ears “Understand now? They only want you when you're useful to them, you're treated as backup, but in the right hands you could be so much more..” Her head hung low, like she just discovered it, that despite her power and the fact shes equally as dangerous maybe even more so she's treated as lesser than everyone else. 

Dabi mentally kicked himself, making such a pretty face sulk and look dour, he couldn't just stand there and allow her to beat herself up over how others treat her. Dabi took a step forward to her and found himself raising his hand to her chin and made her look right up at him, her chin betwixt the pads of his forefinger and thumb. “Come on now… don't be so down on yourself, they might see you as only an asset and a tool to use and expand upon themselves, as nothing more then a battery that never quits, but with us, you can reach a version of yourself you have never seen before.. And we can help you with that. We will make sure you surpass your expectations'' She caught herself staring. 

Eyes glazed over in tears that threatened to fall, and with a blink they were gone. “Excuse my ignorance but… you're serious like you can do that?” She asked with trepidation and abit of excitement that she had to cage off to not seem too eager. 

“It's not a promise, Nakamura. Its a fact that is going to be a reality. Now..” He turned on his heel and gave them some distance in the lobby, he was almost shrouded in darkness. “Give me a demonstration on what you can do.” He instructs. 

Chiaki blinks and becomes blanched. A demonstration. In here? She clasps her hands together and pulls them apart that green glow emanating from her hands to her elbows, pretty gold and green eyes enveloped in pure green with irises, her hands splayed out fingers slowly dancing and expanding outward, like licks of fire.

 “Brace yourself.” She curled in her fingers to drain the energy from surrounding lights and power, making the environment for everyone else but her heavy and sluggish. Dabi had a bead of sweat roll down his face and a headache grow slowly. “And just as it was pulled away I can give it back on my own terms.” She points a manicured finger at Dabi. The headache vanishes without a trace and his energy restored , almost knocking him on his ass from the dizzying feeling of having the wind knocked into you.

 The lights and the power entirely shut down for a full block and the bulbs bust outside. She holds a ball of concentrated energy in her palm and absorbs it into her skin, a content smile spreading across her delicate features and bowing forward and standing back up straight.

 “Oh yeah, they're going to thank me for insisting you be our new recruit... Warn me before you use your quirk on me again, will you?” She snorts and cocks a brow up at him. “So.. do it again later and knock you on your ass?” Chiaki giggled, Dabi quizzically tilted his head and narrowed his eyes, as if he's breaking down her words in his head, he flipped his black hair from his face as chuckles amused.

 “I knew I liked you for a reason, sarcastic little thing. ” she blushes and covers her mouth embarrassed. “I think it would be smart if we left.. I don't know if my friends are out looking for me or not..and honestly i would rather not face them head on yet.. And i don't want you to be hurt.” Chiaki looks back at him and blushes not realizing how worried she was for his safety, "What already thinking of me? Don't get so soft on me now, Nakamura.." Dabi chuckles and his hands return to his pockets and with a half turn he nods his head in the opposite direction of her, signalling her to follow him towards the exit of the building, he stops before the door. 

"Wait..you mean those UA kids..? trust me, Nakamura.. they arent your friends.. i don't need to know what you went through today after our little scene, you know as well as i that they're already plotting against you from what you did.." his words rang true along with his velveteen voice, the tall and slender Villain seemed to know more than he let on.

Chiaki became quiet and more confident with her decision. She made this choice, and she really didn't regret a damn thing. "And that very thing you have done today, Chiaki.." he slammed his hand into the wall, anchored his hand beside her head, making her damn near jump out of her skin. Lightning cracked outside illuminating the scars that adorned his features.

  The trench coat splaying open and just a bit of his shirt collar dipping down to reveal the purple scar stretches to his chest, gold tint staples fixed secure into what skin he had left to him that remained unscarred.

 Her eyes wandered from his chest back to his brilliant blue eyes. "Made me realize that you were worth contacting. Trust me, Nakamura.. we will bring out the best in you, UA would have easily tainted your view on the world and how ‘justice’ is delivered; but it seems like you know the world for what it really is." he gave her cheek a pat and a pinch, his gaze remained on her and a sickly grin twisted on his features when he notices her eyes wandering to the purple skin and his pronounced collar dipping further down his chest.. His hand engulfed her chin, capturing it and making her look him in the eyes. 

"Yknow, staring at people in the League will getcha in trouble or hurt, Not me though.. just don't get too used to it, anyone who stares  that long at me i consider mice…but honestly i don't see you scurrying off anytime soon." He backs off when she blushes brighter and gives him a shove. 

"Ah quit! Its kinda hard to not stare if you haven't noticed, Dabi." He pulled his phone out of his pocket and started texting someone facing the heavy door, when he received a reply he put it back into his pocket, and sighed opening the heavy metal door with a creak, rain poured down into the street as he spoke up so she could hear him. "its what we ugly folk are used to i'm afraid." Chiaki merely scoffs and pulls back up the hood and opened her palm flat and above his and her head together she created a translucent green umbrella like barrier protecting them from the downpour,  "Ugly is abit of a stretch, Dabi..." she mutters and follows him into the alley where the rain continued ro shower down bouncing off the barrier, a singular street lamp illuminating the barren street leaving the only city she had ever known, Dabi replayed that phrase in his head and he momentarily closed his eyes.

 Its been years since he got compliments.. it was strange but not unwelcome. "Ohhhh little mouse, your gonna get along very well with me.. stick by my side and everyone will like you… eventually.. Your about to meet one of them anyway." As he said this casually as the street became a black and purple haze, a portal opened up and swirled as a literal exit from the city.. to wherever the hell she was going next. 

Chiaki gasped and took an apprehensive step forward.

 "Scared?" Dabi asked, with a little smirk on his lips. "Just a bit…" Dabi extended his hand for her, inviting her with him "Cmon. Trust me. Trust a burnt man with nothing to lose." He chides playfully. Chiaki accepts his invitation, his hand warm and textured with the staples.. Dabis heart skipped a beat at the contact.

 Soft and small hands engulfed by his own as he guided her through the portal, stunning blue eyes never deviating from her gold and green ones.. like they were captivated by one another.. before she knew it, she was in a completely different location. She blinked and looked around, thunderstruck almost by the environment.

A bar that reeked of booze and smoke of different varieties. "Welcome home, for now." He says in a flat tone, she pulled off her hood and looked around.

 Dabi still had his back to her and looked at his palm for a moment that felt like an eternity, the ghost of her hand remaining in his own, strange emotions bubbled up from nowhere, he shoved them back down and spoke up. 

"Everyone seems to be out by now, usually the bar is never empty. The person who summoned that portal is here...Kurogiri, which means our leader Shigaraki is here. He’ll meet you at some point..when he's not on his damn video games." he nudged her shoulder with his elbow and shook his wet hair out. Turning to look down at her, "Nice place...you guys bounce from place to place often?" She asks in what felt like a shy whisper, the resounding echo from the hall made her feel like she was shouting. 

"Haven't in a while.. hoping we won't have too again. Wont say where because it doesn't matter. Anyway, wanna come up to my room? There's an old couch up there you can crash on. Unless you want my bed, heh.. Wouldn't mind you in bed with me.” He breathily chuckles and pinches her chin starting to lead the way, “Don't get any ideas! I'm just tired.. I haven't had any sleep and its like.. Almost 2:30 in the morning.” She yawned and dragged her feet behind him.

Chiaki follows him up the stairs and down the long corridor to the last door on the left, he opened it to find a bedroom with a king sized mattress pushed to the wall and the windows covered in blackout curtains, an old couch directly under it and  a flat screen across the room as well as his own computer and cans of empty energy drinks by it, as well as an ashtray that looked like it was used normally. 

“This room is mine, go ‘head.” He invites her in, noting the tired look on her face, he found it almost innocent if it weren't for the remnants of blush still ghosted on the apples of her cheeks.

Dabi had booted the door closed behind him as she kicked off her boots, he spoke up again, watching her movements, as they seemed to have gotten lazier. “Not much of an interior decorator but it works for me, sprucing the room up would be too much effort.” 

Making himself comfortable he sheds the trench coat and shuffles through a cabinet in the desk where his computer is located,”I'm getting pretty tired and by the looks of it you are too, so im afraid im gonna have to restrain you. Cmere.” He says, pulling out a pair of handcuffs that catches Chiaki’s attention, her brow instantly rising in confusion and a hint of worry. Dabis eyes flicker up to her when she whips around at the chain jingling as he approaches her, twirling the cuffs around his finger 

 “W-wait why do you need to restrain me?” She asks a little wary, “Its so you dont pull anything while I'm sleeping… can't be too careful, little mouse.” He states clasping the cuffs around her wrists in the front, they clicked almost to the point where he could get two fingers under them. Chiaki looked at him with big innocent eyes and then down to the cuffs on her wrists. “Tsk..you do this to all the new recruits or am i just that special.” He chuckles and turns his back to her. “You’re a first, to both be cuffed and able to sleep in my bed. Consider yourself ‘special’”

She looks back up to find Dabi stripping his white shirt off and tossing it to the couch, a blush forming on her face and a pang in her heart as she looks at him closely, hes much better looking up close… fit and lean, along with the added look of his scars that dressed his torso into his pants only made him 2 times more appealing and more her type. “Holy shit..” She says out loud with her jaw slacked abit. “Checking me out, little mouse? Remember what I said about staring.” He chuckled and laid back in bed exhausted, pulling the sheets up her body comfortably. “Sorry was just admiring the view, Dabi.” She teased rolling her eyes and settling into bed, Dabi’s eyes widened briefly and felt that sweet warm feeling creeping up his chest again, this time he let it simmer there.

“im going to sleep.. Too tired to think, that energy drink i had acouple hours ago finally wore off." Chiaki yawned and stretched, facing away from him to ease the situation, that situation being she wanted to face him and find comfort from him. 

A sort of comfort she longed for for years, acceptance and safety.. Funny she found safety with a villain.. With villains alike. This caused her to giggle to herself, he raises a brow and looked over to her with his arms tucked behind his head 

Instead as Dabi turned off the light and the distant thunder rolled she spoke up “Dabi..” “Hm?” She turned back over and some light from the opened part of the black out curtains illuminated her eyes, Dabi once again caught himself peering into them wistfully finding himself looking her over. 

 A genuine glow in her eye, appreciation and a connection the two have never felt before, “Thank you, for bringing me in.. you wont regret it,” She brings her bound hands up to pull the pillow further up under her head, and licked her lips, swallowing her fear and letting a wall down, even just alittle bit to him. Dabi mused and observed her closely, finally seeing the opposite end of what its like to have someone in need go to him of all people. “i haven't felt anything beyond disappointment for a long long time, so to say i feel comfortable with someone i was fighting not even a day ago says anything, i hope you understand and i'm not stepping over any boundaries.” He grinned, and responded with an amused chuckle. “Getting soft on me again, better not make that a habit with anyone else here, I just might get jealous.” Dabi grazed his finger against her cheek, she leaned against his hand and smiled angelically.

“I'm starting to like that fire in your eye. ” He ghosts his knuckles down her cheek as her eyes closed slowly, blinking exausted as the cold air kicked on from the ac unit above them, she shivered and threw all caution to the wind, Dabi stiffened as she moved closer to his end of the bed, she ducked her head abit beneath the blanket to snuggle against his warm chest, his heart hammered with nerves he still couldnt place a name too, the same hand that stroked her cheek rested on her shoulder, his thumb rubbing slow circles into the sweatshirts fabric. 

Comforting and confusing thoughts swirled through the villains mind as he soon came to realize he remained awake for all but another 20 minutes, the soft rise and fall of her chest and side indicated she had long fallen asleep in his arms. 

Dabi rested his chin against her head and attempted to find the sleep he had long since forgotten in his past life. Acceptance and comfort from someone. 

He sighed and whispered in a husky tone of voice.

“Glad we had that talk, Little Mouse…”

XXX~

Hey yall its my first MHA fic. You might see more of her and Dabi in the future cuz honestly this was fun!

[the-silentium]

It hurts

Masterlist

Pairing: Five Hargreeves x Reader

Words: 3338 words

Warnings: ANGST, murder, blood, swearing, mention of desire to die.

Requested by: Anon

I loved your song fic “Folded messages” so much, and I saw u said we could send. I decided to give it a shot :”) obviously don’t feel obligated to do it, I’ll respect if u don’t want to ☺️☺️ I am sucker for old songs, and I think they fit so well with 5. I was wondering if a 5 fic with the song “Can’t take my eyes off of you” would be possible. I don’t rly have a plot in mind, maybe when Five meets reader in commission, or just somewhere between S1 or S2. I apologize if this is too general :”)

A/N: I know the song was out in 1967 and that it wasn’t out when the fic take place, but let’s forget about that detail, okay? Okay. Dear anon, I’m sure you wanted fluff, but I don’t know, I can’t really explain myself. It just happened. 

As the ultimate warm breath of your latest victim escaped her mouth, the pain flashing through your entire body intensified until you found yourself falling on your knees. Every nerve in your body was ablaze, the feeling of your insides burning and melting away was excruciating, breaking the remnants of your already shattered mind. Millenniums passed and you never got used to the pain. This pain that you couldn't fight or attenuate. This pain that, with each passing century, fed on your sanity and created the monster that you were now. This pain that clearly wanted you to die, but something else within every cell of your being was fighting fiercely against it. Making you live. Live in pain. It hurts. 

The once warm body of the young lady was now cold, the room now bathed in moonlight instead of sun rays. Getting up, you barely noticed how your clothes stuck to your body, enormous patches of dried blood keeping them glued to your skin. You staggered on your feet as the world shifted and your vision filled with dark fireflies. You took a deep breath and made your way up the stairs where you knew you could find a change of clothes. As you reached the stairs, your eyes caught movement out of the kitchen window. 

Two tall white-haired men forced the lock of the store next door. Their expressions weren't visible in the darkness of the alley, but the dim light of a nearby lamppost reflected on the guns badly hidden under their coats. 

A new wave of blood lust drowned your senses, replacing your hurting thoughts with angry ones. Rushing out of the apartment, you made your way to the slightly open door, thinking how unfair it was that everyone around you could die with something as simple as a bullet or a stab wound, yet you couldn't. It hurts.

You were pulled out of your thoughts by a large form blocking your view. Steely-blue eyes glared at you, the knife in his hand shining under the neons above, ready to pierce your heart in one swift movement if you were to make a move towards them. You weren’t intimidating in any way, your petite form along with your soft features wasn’t why the giant was alert. 

Not only was your entire front almost covered in blood, but the atmosphere around you was definitely the most dangerous he ever encountered. The hair on his neck and arms raised as soon as your gaze found his. Once before had he felt like that, the faithful evening he and his brothers were doing check-ups on their traps set into the woods in hope of having a nice dinner the day after. Otto remembered the fear he felt when they were met with a lone-wolf missing a back leg, said leg still stuck into the fangs of their trap. A tingling sensation around the scar of his eye disturbed the Swede, the vivid memory of his flesh being slashed open flashing before his eyes. He remembers the desperation and insanity glazing the yellow eyes of the wolf, the same desperation and insanity that were dancing in your own (e/c) ones. What was terrifying him was the intelligence hidden under the surface. You were a predator in disguise-

Screams resonated through the room as Axel started to torture the ally of their brother’s murderer, surely thinking that Otto had the matter under control. Your head turned back on the bloody scene unfolding before you, allowing Otto to fill his lungs with air, the first time in almost a minute. Otto stiffened as you moved, relaxing a little when you made your way to the other side of the room to sit on a sofa.

“I won’t steal your prey.” Your eyes were fixed on the man being tortured, the blood oozing from his nose and mouth. How the pain caused his muscles to constrict- “I just want to watch.” 

And watch you did. The giant’s attention was on you, but you couldn’t care less. You enjoyed every moment of the blue-coated man’s torture session, liking his style. You let them drench their washcloths with the dead man’s blood before making your way to the body. Out of habit, you reached for its neck, searching delicately for a pulse, even faint. Your nostrils flared when you found none, once again facing the injustice of your curse. His pain was gone while yours was still there. His torturer let him go while yours, whoever it was, kept you suffering day after day, year after year, and so on for… You didn’t remember for how long. You’ve been alive for so long that you didn’t remember why or when you were cursed. Wasn’t it unfair? Being cursed for a reason you didn’t even remember? It hurts.

The barrel of a gun refreshed the burning skin of your temple for a moment, making you close your eyes in delight. The feeling was very short-lived, though, the fire intensifying to cover the pleasant sensation. You reopened your eyes to meet the two white-haired men, the tallest pointing you with his gun from a good distance, while the blue-coated one was close enough to touch your head with his weapon. You turned slowly towards them, the gun now pressing onto your forehead.

“No witness.” His accent reminded you of your time in Scandinavian lands. You could see his eyes analyzing your blood coated features, trying to understand how a beautiful young woman like you in her early twenties could appear as such a dreadful sight. You saw it for a split second, the hardening of his gaze, milliseconds before his mind decided that it was enough and his finger pulled the trigger. 

As the bullet entered the front of your skull, you wondered if your gaze hardened too just before you gave the final blows to your prey. Do they know when all hope is to be abandoned? 

You didn’t fall to the floor as the Swedish men expected. Nor did blood escaped the bullet wound into your head. Instead of blood, a blackish liquid escaped the hole into your forehead, tainting your red-coated skin with a viscous dark trail. It hurts.

“Too bad then. No one gets what they want.” You simply stated as if this was the most evident thing in the world. 

Out of respect for their handy work on the shop clerk, you tilted your head slightly in their direction as the wound into your head started to close slowly, your curse stubbornly keeping you alive and well, before walking away to explore the rest of the shop. You ignored how their footsteps were hurried or how they called you a demon in their native tongue, focusing instead on the files scattered under a coffee table. You didn’t know why you crouched to get them, but you did and you read them. Every page.

By the time you were done, you were seated at the edge of the sofa once again. A tall blonde guy and a dark-haired one entered the room, too scandalized about the dead body of their friend and the markings on the floor below to notice you reading one of the tv brochures you found lying around. When they did though, your reading material was snatched from your hands, and a knife threatened the skin of your throat. 

You had hoped that the metal would be as satisfying as the barrel of the gun was, but you had no such luck. You huffed in disappointment before dropping your hands to your knees. It hurts.

“Who are you?” The dark-haired man pressed you, the sharp side of the knife digging slightly into your skin. 

You glared at him from your position, not impressed one bit. 

“If I tell you I’ll have to kill you.” You replied cockily. You could have fun before opening his throat with his own knife.

You expected the knife to cut your skin, definitely not for blondie to pull his buddy away and reach for you with his big hand. You gnashed as the hand approached you, both in anger and anticipation. Just as he was about to grab your neck, a blue flash enveloped him, and he reappeared in another flash, at the opposite side of the room. Behind the tall blonde, a younger boy with wide blue eyes watched, surprised. 

He returned to his senses when knife guy made a move towards you. It hurts. 

“Don’t touch her Diego!” He hurriedly yelled, teleporting before Diego and pushing on his chest to keep him away. 

“Move, Five! She killed Elliott!” He tried to push the boy but ended like the blond on the other side of the room. 

You got up, unsure of what was happening. Never in your endless life had you encountered someone who could teleport around.

“No, she didn’t! Didn’t you idiots see the ‘öga för öga’ down there? It’s Swedish for an eye for an eye. The Swedes killed Elliot.” He pointed at you, still facing the men. “She was a witness. She got shot in the head.” 

You frowned, intrigued that the boy seemed to know you got shot despite the absence of a hole in your head. Sure, the dark trail was still there, running from your forehead to the bottom of your chin, but there was no way he could have known that this was actually your very own cursed rotten blood. 

“How do you know?” Your voice shot into the room, quieting the heated argument between the three males. 

“Because I know you, Y/N.” You paused, hearing your name for the first time in centuries. He stopped, thinking his words through. “In the future, we are friends.” 

You frowned, debating the veracity of his words. In the future? He indeed looked from another time, in his weird clothing, but also because this time would have made a scandal about his powers. You had a hard time believing that you could have a friend. You huffed, shooking your head. 

“Impossible. How do you know my name?” 

The boy shot a glare to the men before turning toward you. 

“You told me, because like I said, we are friends.” He walked in your direction, stopping a meter away. “I know that you are cursed.” You perked up at that, caught off guard. “I know that you react very violently to anyone touching you because your skin burns even more than it already does.” He chuckled slightly, his gaze holding yours with something that shook you to your very core, softness. “I experienced it first hand. You broke my arm and would have choked me to death if I hadn’t jumped.” 

The softness in his eyes morphed into something else, something you weren’t used to. You never experienced it yourself, but you certainly witnessed it. Affection. It almost scared you off, the muscles in your legs wanting nothing more than to be of use and take you far away, away from his caring blue gaze. 

What kept you there was the blood on his face and shirt. Could he be like you? 

“Shit. We’ll talk more later. We have more important to do.” He turned to his brothers, a new urgency in his tone and movements. “I found a way to get back to our timeline.” He walked to a nearby room and you tuned them out, instead focusing on yourself. 

Could you trust him? He obviously knew you and you once were -or will be- trusting him enough to tell him about yourself. You never opened up to anyone before, your anger was way too great in your younger years. Now that you thought about it, you couldn’t even remember the total of number of people who died from your hands. It hurts.

“What about doomsday?” Your head turned to the dark-haired guy, interested in his words. 

“Won’t happen.” 

“And the 2019 apocalypse?” 

“Everything will be back to normal.” 

What apocalypse? You watched them fuss around, totally confused. The boy stopped before you, presenting you his arm. No, it hurts.

“I know fabric hurt less than skin to skin contact.” Your confusion was clearly written onto your face, forcing him to explain. “I’m taking you with me.”

You almost asked him why, but decided against it, a plan already forming into your brain. You grabbed his sleeve softly and in a second you were in the passenger seat of a car. The engine roared to life when the boy-

“What’s your name?” 

He turned to you, surprised for a second before genuinely smiling and turning back to the road. 

“Five.” 

“How old are you really?” He smirked.

“I knew you’d catch up quickly.” His eyes shifted from the road to you, lingering on your face like he was replaying some memories to himself. “58.” 

You hummed and turned to the window. You watched the buildings disappear, letting the trees stand high to the sky. The countryside road was a bit bumpy but you didn’t mind. You rolled down the window, letting the wind appease the fire under your skin for a little while. 

You had to admit that the silence between the two of you was pleasant. Maybe you really were friends.

“So an apocalypse is coming, eh?” You sit your back to the door, facing Five. You pulled your legs to your chest, your arms hugging them to keep them close so your chin could rest on your knees. You didn’t care that the dress you wore wasn’t covering the back of your tights, but it seemed that this detail was bothering him, his cheeks reddening quickly.

“Y-yes.” He turned back straight ahead and coughed to hide his embarrassment. “Our presence here created an apocalypse that will happen in a couple of days. Don’t worry though, I’ll stop it.”

You chuckled when you noticed him peaking back in your direction, his eyes clearly not focussing on your face this time. His blush spread from his cheeks to his neck and for the very last time, he turned his eyes ahead and kept them there. 

You reached a farm where two women were talking outside, without a care in the world. You waited for Five into the car, patiently planning into your head. Fortunately, Five didn’t think that this would take too long, so he let the car running, allowing you to turn up the radio volume slightly. 

Five came back and you were humming to a song, ignoring the fact that he was beyond pissed that one of the women didn’t follow him as he wanted. He drove the car back to the road, fuming but keeping it all inside, not wanting to cause you to stop humming to the songs. 

You're just too good to be true

Can't take my eyes off of you

You'd be like Heaven to touch

I wanna hold you so much

At long last, love has arrived

And I thank God I'm alive

You're just too good to be true

Can't take my eyes off of you

Now was the time. You lived your whole life, wanting this. To die, to find peace, to stop suffering. Five was the key. In fact, he was an obstacle. You couldn’t let him stop the apocalypse. You wanted to die and the apocalypse would grant your wish. There was no way your curse could protect you from that. It hurts.

Pardon the way that I stare

There's nothin' else to compare

The sight of you leaves me weak

There are no words left to speak

But if you feel like I feel

Please let me know that it's real

You're just too good to be true

Can't take my eyes off of you

You stopped humming, finally noticing that Five had stopped at the side of the road and was watching you intently, a smile at the corner of his lips. You opened your mouth to ask him what was wrong, frowning, until he cut you off.

“I know you don’t remember it because it didn’t yet happen for you, but there was a time when you stopped calling for death and enjoyed living.” 

You froze at his words, wondering if he could read thoughts too. It hurts so much.

“You’re lying.” You couldn’t imagine anything worth enduring your suffering so why would he tell you that? To save his skin?

I love you, baby

And if it's quite alright

I need you, baby

To warm the lonely night

I love you, baby

Trust in me when I say

Oh, pretty baby

Don't bring me down, I pray

Oh, pretty baby

Now that I've found you, stay

And let me love you, baby

Let me love you

“I’m not. This song was playing on an old iPod when you told me.” You lifted an eyebrow at him, slowly positioning your legs to jump forward to kill him. “If you really think that the apocalypse will kill you, you are wrong. You survived and you met me there. That’s where we became friends.”

“Prove it.” Your heart was beating erratically, desperately wanting his words to be wrong. You wanted to be free. This life hurts. IT HURTS.

You're just too good to be true

Can't take my eyes off of you

You'd be like Heaven to touch

I wanna hold you so much

At long last, love has arrived

And I thank God I'm alive

You're just too good to be true

Can't take my eyes off you

Five reached into his pants pocket, taking out a colored photo. The quality wasn’t god, but you could see yourself, curled up against a dark-haired man on a loveseat, holding his free hand while kissing his cheek. His smile reminded you of Five’s. 

Your eyes were fixed on your lips touching his face. How you seemed so unbothered by the fire eating at your nerves. This couldn’t be possible. Even the idea of doing it caused your own pain to accentuate. Ithurtsithurtsithurts-

“I found a disposable camera and used up the film. I kept it and when I came back in 2019 I had it developed.” 

I love you, baby

And if it's quite alright

I need you, baby

To warm the lonely night

I love you, baby

Trust in me when I say

Oh, pretty baby

Don't bring me down, I pray

Oh, pretty baby

Now that I've found you, stay

Oh, pretty baby

Trust in me when I say

Oh, pretty baby

The news hit you hard. Your body was shaking uncontrollably, tears ran down your cheeks, sobs escaped your mouth. It has been a while since you’d had your last breakdown although any one of them could compare to this one. At least, before you had hope that something, somewhere you finally end you. Your hopes were now crushed. It. Hurts. 

The pain in your shoulder exploded, earning a cry from your lips. Out of reflex, your fist shot straight ahead, colliding with his shoulder and successfully breaking the contact between the both of you. Quickly, you turned around and shot the door open in a haste, almost running away from him. You wanted to die. You wanted to die. You needed to- A flash of blue followed by Five’s appearance before you stopped you in your tracks abruptly, causing you to fall on your knees for the second time this day. 

Your desperation morphed into pain and your pain into anger. How dare he ruin your life? How dare he crush your hopes? If you could choose, you would have preferred to still have your hopes, at least they kept you going. What were you supposed to do now without anything to live for? Please help me. It hurts. 

“I’ll help you.” His voice was soft, as he was approaching a wounded animal. Well, maybe you were.

You were a wolf whose leg was trapped in a hunter’s trap. You would do anything to free yourself. You were desperate, you were insane, you were intelligent. 

And you were forgetful. 

It wouldn’t hurt to kill him. In due time, you would forget him. Like you forgot everything else until you became what you were now. Humanity’s wrath.

Please, it hurts.

[kaleidescope-writes]

Faithfully Yours–Chapter 5: Heartbeat

In partnership with @accio-boys​

Billionaire!Tom Hiddleston x Doctor!Reader

Slow Burn! (Yay)

Warnings: Language, argument, taste of fluff, Cliffhanger(permanent warning), Dangerous act (Please don’t swerve when driving!) Mention of illness

Masterlist

“Dr. Knight, you’re needed in the Trauma Center,” a voice in the PA system spoke. You made your way to the call room, exhausted after two consecutive bypass surgeries. The first was a third time bypass that took about four hours. The one that followed immediately after was a first time bypass that took a bit longer, about six hours. You were incredibly tired, having a thirteen hour work day and still being on call. Your feet were begging for a break and your mind couldn’t think straight. Opening the door, you stepped into the call room and made your way over to one of the beds. Sighing heavily, you let your weight drop onto the bed. Closing your eyes for a moment, you took in a few steady breaths as you relaxed. 

You took out your phone, sending Tom a quick text that read “Had a long day, punching out at 8pm. See u then. Don’t run anyone over.” Locking it, you set it down to your side on the bed and closed your eyes again. You began to slip into a peaceful sleep, letting yourself rest for an hour before going to check your post ops and getting ready to go home. Your breaths became steady as you began to fall asleep.

“Y/N!” a voice called out before the door slammed shut, making you jump. You opened your eyes, feeling your heart momentarily stop before beating faster. “We need to talk about your engagement,”  the voice continued, coming closer to you. “What the hell are you doing here, Quentin?” you demanded, pissed that your rest was interrupted. “I need to talk to you,” he repeated, “I asked a nurse where I could find you and they led me to the call room. We need to talk about your engagement, I have some issues with it.” You sighed, sitting up on the bed. “You interrupted my sleep to talk about issues you have about my relationship?” you questioned, “That’s kind of a dick thing to do.” Quentin sat down next to you on the bed, facing you. “I have a few problems with it,” he continued, ignoring your previous statement, “Firstly, you were completely against marrying this guy when the engagement was announced. So what the hell changed within the span of three days?” 

He was right. When the engagement was announced, you made your displeasure with the arrangement very clear. He was right to wonder why the sudden change of heart. “I didn’t know the guy when the wedding was announced,” you confessed, “To make peace with the situation, he started opening up to me and gave me a proper proposal, ring included. He let me into his life and in return, I let him into mine. We’re not madly in love, but we’re already engaged, so we’ll get there. Love takes time.” Quentin laughed, shaking his head as he listened to your explanation.

“You’re too stubborn to agree to this. There’s a catch, isn’t there?” he pressed

“There isn’t a catch, we’ve come to terms with the situation and compromised.”

“You never compromise!”

“First time for everything, I guess.”

“That’s bullshit! You and I both know there’s something going on here. Just tell me!”

You shook your head, giving him a pestered look. “You’re looking too much into this,” you assured, “This is the best we can do in this situation. Besides, he has custody over his niece and she needs a mother figure. I’m just helping.” Quentin rolled his eyes, leaning closer to you. He took your hand in hands as he spoke, “You’re my big sister, I know you more than you think I do. I can feel when something’s not right, and trust me, something’s not right. I know a small part of you is still against it. Please just tell me why you’re doing this and maybe I can help.” You thought for a moment, looking away from him briefly before he spoke again, “I don’t want to see you get hurt over something that was never real.” 

Your breath hitched slightly. Memories from last night began to flood your mind. Everything you felt, everything you thought, and everything you said to yourself. The ring. The ring currently resting on your left finger suddenly became heavy. Every negative feeling from last night came back, hitting you at full force with all the weight of your insecurity. Was he right? Could he feel the negative tension between you and Tom? Your stomach felt uneasy and you felt your heart skip a beat before beating more intensely. You were nervous. You couldn’t tell him the truth, but you couldn’t keep it hidden for very long. Quentin would find out eventually--the way he reacted to the truth would depend on how he’d find out. If you told him, he would surely help you find another way out. If things played out, well, who knows what he would do. You had to tell him. You were scared to see how he would react to the truth after being lied to. And after last night, something like that was likely to happen again. When it did, you’d need the emotional support he could give. He’d help you through it. He always did. 

Looking up to meet his eyes, you took in a shaky breath, preparing to tell him everything-- including last night’s incident. Before a single sound could escape your lips, your pager went off, catching your attention instantly. Taking out of your pocket, you saw three numbers on the screen that let you know you had to leave instantly. “I have to go,” you sighed, standing and taking your phone with you. Quentin stood as well, eyes never leaving you as you prepared to leave. “You still haven’t told me what’s going on,” he insisted, stepping in your way to stop you. You gave him a look, “It’s an emergency. I got paged 911, I have to go.” He crossed his arms, standing his ground while still not letting you leave. “Look, I can’t tell you much, but I promise you that this is for the best. We came up with a solution that benefits both of us. We care about each other in a very specific way.” You gave him a smile, “It’ll be fine, I promise.”

Quentin huffed, letting his hands drop as he shifted his weight. “Just promise me that this is real. That’ll put my mind at ease,” he muttered. Your smile faltered slightly. “I promise,” you lied. He nodded, stepping out of your way and letting you rush to whatever emergency you were called to. 

~~~~~8 p.m.~~~~~

 “Goodnight Boss!” one of the nurses called out. You waved goodbye at them before making your way out of the hospital lobby. It was a long day and the only thing you wanted to do was sink into that soft, king sized bed you shared with a certain billionaire. Maybe you’d help put Vivie to bed before that, however. Walking out to the doctor reserved parking spaces to where your car was, you took your phone out to finally read a message Tom had sent you three hours ago. It read, “I reserve that privilege for you alone😉.” You chuckled, looking away from the screen and paying attention to the dimly lit streets around you. Before you could put your phone back in your pocket, it began to ring. Thinking it was probably Tom checking up on you after work, you answered unbothered to look at the screen to confirm your suspicions. 

“Hey,” you answered, arriving at your car door and pressing the button on the handle to open the door. “Hi sweetie!” your mother replied, cheery tone almost making you cringe. “Mom,” you said in a false happy voice. Why did your heart fall slightly? “Honey, I know you just got off work and I was hoping we could discuss some details for the wedding while you drove home,” she explained. Setting your bag down on the driver’s seat, you closed the door and set the phone down, pressing the speaker button. “Now?” you asked, “Isn’t the wedding some time away?” You heard her let out a laugh, “Well that’s the thing, we don’t know when the wedding will be since you haven’t picked a date for it.” After putting the phone on the hands-free stand, you turned the car on and put your seat belt on as well. “Weren’t you the one who was going to pick the date?” you inquired, pulling out of the parking spot. “Well I do want to give power over your wedding day, since I didn’t give you a choice with the groom. But if you want me to handle everything, I’ll do it gladly,” she snarked, “Just don’t complain when you turn into bridezilla after nothing was to your liking.” 

“Fine,” you caved in, “But let’s skip the date, I have to discuss that with Tom.” You drove out of the parking lot and began your long drive home to Tom’s place. “Ok, so first off, we need to plan a date to pick the dress you’ll wear on your special day,” she offered quickly, as if reading off a list and picking the first item. “I’m not sure,” you drawled, keeping a firm focus on the road ahead of you despite the conversation and your tiredness, “I’m always working at the hospital. I’d have to ask for a day off, or maybe two.” You heard a sigh on the other line. 

“Well then, let’s skip that,” your mother grumbled, “How about the flower arrangements for the bouquet and decor?” You thought for a moment, keeping most of your focus on the road. “I’m not sure, isn’t there some traditional arrangement we can do? Something with roses, baby’s breath, and other flowers?” She groaned, “If you’re not going to take this seriously, I might as well take control over the whole thing myself. You’re clearly not half as interested in making important decisions as you should be.” 

“Mom, I just got off work. I’m not in the right mind to make any decisions.” you protested.

“It would be nice if you tried! Even just a little.”

“I am trying mom. I’m just exhausted. Maybe we can discuss these decisions later, when I’m not tired.” 

“Fine,” she agreed, “But at least decide on the colors.”

Without a moment’s hesitation, you answered, “Both of our favorite colors. Maybe with gold accents.” “Very well,” she acquiesced, “That’s at least one less decision that has to be made. Let me know when your days off are so that we can have a proper discussion about the wedding planning.”  You nodded, momentarily forgetting she couldn’t see you, then mumbled a yes. “While we’re on the topic of weddings, I want to inform you of another decision I made,” she added, “After some deliberation, I decided you and Tom will get married on the same day your brother and his fiancee will get married.” 

Your hands twitched, almost swerving the car to the left. “What?” asked in rage. “Well, both engagements were announced on the same day. Besides, you two have always been so close, so it’s only fitting you share a wedding,” she explained. “No!” you snapped, “The engagement wasn’t my choice! I don’t want to share a wedding with Quentin!” 

“Why not?”

“Because I just don’t!”

“That’s not a good reason. Honestly, why are you being so immature?”

“I’m immature?” you questioned indignantly, “I’m the immature one? You made me get engaged to a complete stranger just because of your friendship with his father and I’m immature?” Your mother sighed, "The circumstances are different, you wouldn't understand. This benefits both families. I just wish you were a little more open to this." You burned with rage, breath fast and uneven as you tried to calm down and respond to her in a controlled manner. "You're right mother," you. responded bitterly, "I don't understand why you would offer up your daughter to marry someone she'd never met before and claim it was in her best interest. But you know, I'm sure you'll have plenty of time to think of a great explanation for when we meet up to plan the wedding. Until then, I'm exhausted. I'll let you know when my day off is." 

With that, you hung up, too engaged to let her respond. You were almost home. Just a few more minutes away--enough time to try and calm yourself before you Vivie saw you like that. You decided to take a few deep breaths, clearing your mind off anything that was said between the two of you. You'd deal with that later. For now, you just wanted to focus on breathing and driving and putting Vivie to bed and going to bed yourself. You just hoped Tom wouldn't give you a hard time tonight. 

"How long is Y/N going to take to get here?" You heard Vivie ask from the living room as you opened the door. "Not long," Tom responded, "I'm sure she's-" "Right here," you finished, walking into the living room and opening your arms towards Vivie. "Y/N!" She cheered, running to give you a hug. You bent down a bit, making it easier for her to reach you, and wrapped your arms around her small form. A small smile found its way to your lips as Tom approached the two of you. "Did you save any lives today?" She asked, looking up at you with big, curious eyes. "Yes," you laughed, "a few, actually." 

"How about she tells you about how she saved them as a bedtime story," Tom suggested standing a few feet away. Vivie turned to him and nodded. "Well then, go clean up for bed. She'll join you in a moment," he gestured towards the stairs. Without a moment's hesitation, she ran upstairs, following his order. You relaxed for a moment, putting your stuff down on the couch to your right. There was a brief moment of silence as you unpacked some of your things. A sweet, calming moment that unfortunately didn't last very long. 

"Something's wrong," Tom commented, taking a step closer to you. "What, with you?" You asked turning to face him. "Not me," he snorted, "With you. You seem tense and slightly less annoying." He stood a foot in front of you, hands to his sides as he gave you a seemingly sympathetic look. Seemingly. You hesitated for a moment, remembering the conversation you had earlier. 'I don’t want to see you get hurt over something that was never real.'

Sensing your hesitation, he took your left hand in his. "Tell me," he pleaded, eyes continuing to soften as he looked deeply into your own. You took a beat, closing your eyes as your lips began to speak. "I had a conversation earlier," you began, "Two, actually. Quentin came to the hospital just to tell me he isn't convinced that our 'relationship' is real. And as if that wasn't enough, my mother wants to start planning the wedding. Which, by the way, we'll have to share with my brother because why the fuck not." You let out a sorrowful laugh. Tom's eyes darkened with concern, the grip he had on your hand tightening slightly. 

"What did you tell your brother?" He asked in a calm voice. A sudden feeling of worry arose,despite your efforts in trying to stop it. "I told him that we care about each other in a very specific way," you answered, "Which technically, we do."

"So you didn't actually lie," he said more as a statement. 

"I just didn't tell him the full story," you smirked, "You taught me that." A smile appeared on his face, but was gone again in the blink of an eye. He smiled. "What about the wedding?" He questioned, concerned look returning. "I don't want to think about that," you sighed, closing your eyes for a second, "I just want to go to bed. I've had a long day." Tom nodded, letting go of your hand and taking a step back. He was holding on to your hand for the entire conversation. "Before you do that, I believe you promised Vivie a bedtime story about your day," he reminded, making his way to the stairs, "I'll wait for you to come to bed before I turn off the light." 

You walked into Vivie's room, silently admiring the layout. Your eyes roamed around the room, taking note of every small detail in the child's expertly decorated bedroom. "Ready for the story?" She asked, making you turn to look at her as she sat on the bed. "Are you?" You responded, raising an eyebrow. She just nodded, quickly lifting the covers and laying down, her braids resting on each side of her head. You walked over to the bed and sat down on the corner, facing her. "So, what do you want to hear about first?" You asked softly, setting a hand down near her head. "Can lay down with me until I fall asleep?" She pleaded, giving you puppy eyes. You smiled, silently going along with her request. Once you were laying down next to her, she began her requests, "How many people did you save today?"

"Three," you chuckled, "Two of them needed surgery and the third one was having a heart attack. They were ok when I came home." Her eyes went wide with amazement. "Why did they need surgery?" She asked, fully invested in everything you told her. "Well," you began, "Your heart is responsible for pumping blood through your veins. That's what keeps you alive. Sometimes, the veins near your heart get stuffed with a bad type of fat that sticks to the walls, like ice cream through a straw. When that happens, they need a special surgery called a coronary bypass. It creates another route for the blood to take so that it avoids the fat that's blocking the path for the blood. That way, their heart can keep beating.” 

You heard her take even breaths. Turning to look at her, your suspicions were confirmed; she’d fallen asleep. You smiled softly, deciding to stay there for a while longer just in case. Looking up at the ceiling, you focused on whatever little sound in the room. Closing your eyes for a moment, you listened to a faint thumping. Thump. Thump. Silence. Thump. Your eyes shot open, focusing more intently on her heartbeat. You counted ten seconds on your fingers while focusing on her heartbeat. Ten seconds, seven beats. It skipped a few beats in between. You felt a strong sense of worry spread. It could be a number of things, but the most probable cause was arrhythmia. Did Tom know? 

Standing up slowly, you began to make your way to the door carefully to not disturb Vivie. Once you reached the door, you opened it cautiously. Tom stood on the other side of the door, making you jump slightly. He took a step back, allowing you to fully exit the room. Closing the door gently, you turned to face him. “How long were you standing here?” you whispered, still being careful. “Not long, I just wanted to make sure Vivie was asleep,” he said in a hushed tone, also taking Vivie into consideration. You nodded, speaking again, “She’s asleep, but I heard something that has me a bit concerned. Her heartbeat has an abnormal rhythm. Did you know that?” Tom sighed softly, nodding sadly. “Her father had a history of heart problems. Unfortunately, she got his bad genes. They diagnosed it when she was three. She’s been on a strict, healthy diet and non-addictive meds.” I knew it! You nodded, taking a moment to think about what you’d say next. “If it’s ok with you, I’d like to take a look at her medical records, both as a doctor and her future legal guardian,” you whispered. Tom gave you a confused look, “Why would you want that?” 

“I’m one of New York’s top Cardiothoracic surgeons. I want to make sure this isn’t something that will require surgery later in her life,” you explained, “That and I’m emotionally invested in her well being and I want to know what I can do to help.” He gave you a small nod, “I’ll show you her records tomorrow before work.” You smiled and began to walk to your shared room, spirits lifted slightly now that you’d be able to take care of Vivie both as a patient and as a ‘mother’. 

Meanwhile Tom watched you leave, an incredulous smile forming. He reminded himself of what his father said about the marriage. He said Vivie needed a mother figure in her life and maybe Y/N was it. “Maybe he was right,” he whispered to himself, “Maybe Y/N could be a good mother for Vivie.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: This took a while to figure out, but it’s here!! I had to do some research for this chapter, but I’m no expert. If you know more about this, please feel free to correct me as some advice would be very much appreciated. Anyway, as always, show some love for @accio-boys​, my wonderful partner in crime. Check out her blog, as she makes covers for fanfics and they look absolutely amazing (All the covers I have on the Masterlists were made by her). Stay safe, Stay Proud, Be careful out there, and I love you! Please remember that!  😘💖💖💖💖

And to all my new followers, Welcome to the family😘❤🧡💛💚💙💜

~~~~~~~

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[silver-wield]

I’m sorry in advance. This is a long rant. I think the main reason I can't accept this "SOLDIER!Cloud loves A” thing is because I've always felt that the whole love triangle nonsense was introduced solely to make the players invested in A. Let's face it, the biggest reason people were devastated when she died is because they were invested in her potential romance with Cloud. It was the easiest and cheapest way to make sure the devs achieved their goal. (1/5)

But in their desperation to reach that goal at any cost, the devs ended up damaging other things along the way. Having Tifa in the background until A was out of the picture was such a dumb move. It’s obvious they didn’t want any other character to outshine her. Creating this illusion of Cloud loving A served no purpose in the story. And Aerith herself didn’t bond with anyone save for Cloud. These among many other things. To me, all that wavering thing was so unnecessary to the narrative. (2/5)

Things felt rushed, and A was put on a pedestal and shoved in the players’ faces along with the potential romance with her. It was clear to me that the devs just wanted people to like her so that they’d be devastated when she died. But I guess you can’t ask for too much of games/stories back in 1997. I’m sorry, but I just can’t accept people saying that SOLDIER!Cloud loved A. They hadn’t known each other that long, and 95% of the time, they had other things on their plate than romance. (3/5)

It’s not like they were dating or getting to know each other during the brief time they spent together. Also, I don’t mean to offend anyone, but saying the LTD is now ending because A is stepping out and pushing Cloud onto Tifa sounds so insulting. Like Tifa can’t win unless her competition steps out and hands her the man on a silver platter. This time around, I feel that the devs are trying to do things properly. A is finally taking the time to bond with other characters, especially Tifa. (4/5)

Her world doesn’t revolve around Cloud only anymore. Tifa is not in the background anymore, so now people can get to know her and get attached to her even early on. The romance with Tifa isn’t something that feels like it’s come out of the left field about 2/3 of the way in. There might’ve been hints but they were too subtle. Among many other improvements. Whatever the devs do, I just hope they give us the best version possible of the story this time around. Thanks for listening to my rant.(5/5)

Death to the LTD 1

Death to the LTD 2 (dialogue evolution)

Death to the LTD 3 (soldier Cloud’s acceptance)

Cloud’s hyper vigilance

That would be because the concept absolutely was introduced to make the players more invested in Aerith, so her death had a harder hit when it happened. It was a new thing back in 97 to have a love triangle and pretty much everybody was starting to do it. There’s tons of movies, tv series and books out during that time that showcase the trope.

And having 2 heroines, Aerith and Tifa, and having the hero waver between them, at the time that was something new. ~Kitase,  FFVII 10th Anniversary Ultimania pg. 11

I think everyone forgets the difference in technology between FF6 and FF7, not just graphically, but narratively, too. Back then, everything was new and everyone was still trying to find their feet and figure out evolving technology. I mean, it’s still evolving now, but those building blocks that form the base are still the same. Just because there’s now millions of polygons involved doesn’t take away the fact they’re still polygons. 

FF7 was Square’s first foray into using more sophisticated methods of game development and that impacted how the story came across. In previous games, the optional content or hidden story arcs that had to be found to be appreciated made the game more fun. The player had to wander around more and talk to everyone to get the full picture and since it worked before, they thought it’d work again. That people would replay and swap party members around to trigger the other scenes and gather the rest of the puzzle pieces for the fuller picture.

But, they forgot they were trying to make everyone love one specific character, which meant the best way to do that was to keep her in the party over everyone else. Which meant people cared less about the others until the point she leaves the party for good. And by that point, when these people replay they just want to spend even more time with her, so they still miss the other dialogues and scenes with other characters that build their storyline alongside this other character they’ve pressed everyone to care about.

And that’s how the LTD got started because they chose not to play the game fully and only focus on one character, they didn’t see the entire picture. And the guides out at the time didn’t help much on that side of things because they didn’t give narrative canon party suggestions so that players got the most out of the story in each location. 

Soldier Cloud loved Aerith?

Really? When they’ve been saying for years that soldier Cloud didn’t even exist or that we said he was really Zack and that’s why he’s into Aerith? It’s funny how the moment the devs confirm that real Cloud emerged to embrace Tifa they decided they could claim the dominant persona for their own, even though they also said that it was soldier Cloud who complimented Tifa, despite real Cloud not being the dominant persona. We even see visible evidence of the two aspects at war with each other in the honeybee inn scene before Cloud dances. That eye movement back and forth and expression of “fine, for Tifa” is an internal argument with the two aspects that soldier Cloud isn’t aware enough of to realise that’s what it is. If we take Soldier Cloud as the only personality then there’s no way he’d do that because it’s not cool, and soldier Cloud is always cool. He’s being made to dance because of real Cloud’s desire to rescue Tifa. 

Aerith steps out...

Yeah, I wouldn’t phrase it like that, but the overall sentiment is that Aerith is refusing to do what happened in OG.

More importantly, though, and the thing I focused on in my death to the LTD, is Cloud’s behaviour and reaction and feelings. Because he’s soldier Cloud. Real Cloud isn’t part of the LTD because he already chose Tifa. Soldier Cloud is the focus of the LTD because he’s the one who misinterpreted real Cloud’s feelings and focused them on the wrong girl. This time, we see clear evidence throughout all of his interactions that he is also choosing Tifa.

In the train tunnel, while it’s real Cloud’s motivation to protect Tifa, Soldier Cloud is the one who carries out the roll. Then, it’s Soldier Cloud who kisses her cheek, the same as it’s Soldier Cloud who calls her beautiful. Because he’s the one flirting. Real Cloud’s desire is the motivator for him to do it, but it’s Soldier Cloud doing the thing.  Same with every single flirty interaction. Real Cloud’s emergence is only confirmed by the devs twice in the game and both times relate to Tifa. Real Cloud’s hand twitches with the urge to comfort her and then real Cloud hugs her. 

Everything else is only motivated by his love and desire for her, which means everything else is Soldier Cloud acting on those feelings.

The single moment of wavering from him is literally within the LTD nod scene in the train graveyard when Aerith grabs his arm. He doesn’t react when she does it, stays silent, leans away. He’s not showing her a preference. Then, he looks at and agrees with Tifa, which is showing a clear bias towards her. 

Then right before Tifa grabs Cloud’s arm, his eyes start to shift towards Aerith. This is the reference to OG Cloud wavering, but then before he can even look at Aerith, he spots Tifa’s hands in his peripheral vision, gasps, then looks at and smiles at her. 

That’s the result of Cloud’s wavering. He chose Tifa. After that, there’s zero LTD scenes and in fact, there’s a humorous shot of Tifa looking towards the camera after Cloud leaps on her to save her from the falling train carriage and Aerith thanks him for saving both of them. He didn’t save both of them. Didn’t even try. 

I don’t think there’s gonna be anything to worry about going forward because one thing Nojima learned from letting things be “open for interpretation” is that his work gets butchered. 

Since FF7, other FF titles he’s worked on -

FF8: Squall and Rinoa kiss.

FF10: Yuna and Tidus kiss.

FFCC: Aerith and Zack hug

FF13: Snow and Serah kiss and get engaged.

FF15 (when it was originally vs): Noctis and Luna kiss.

If anyone learned their lesson from this LTD mess, it’s Nojima, but he’s been restricted when it comes to 7 by the suits - which is one of the hidden graffiti meta messages in the train tunnel that refers to why Cloti was never made more explicit. 

“They tell you to go with the flow so they can keep the status quo.”

Since this is the last of the FF7 compilation the suits have relaxed the reins on the LTD, so that Nojima can write the story as he sees fit, which I would guess is down to the fact they did sales projections and figured out that FF7 would be massively successful and has in fact also boosted sales of PS4 consoles because people specifically bought the console to play FF7R. With the new mysteries and twists to keep fans talking about the game until the next installment is out, they don’t need to hold onto this outdated LTD concept that everyone hates and isn’t anything the company wants to associate with because of how toxic and nasty it is. They’re a Japanese company having to hear these so called fans talking about how Tifa is a “typical Asian girl” or whatever tf they call her. It’s disgusting. Square yeeted the guys behind Genesis because of the controversy around them, so to have fans like this associated with one of their most popular and iconic titles? Yeah, that ain’t happening. 

[akechicrimes]

Prompt 37? Futaba and Akechi platonic/Futago siblings?

37. “Follow me. It’s okay, just hold my hand.”

after akira leaves tokyo, futaba does just fine without her key item, except for when she doesnt.

(one of them AUs were goro survives the engine room and rejoins the phantom thieves. no i will not explain. persona 5 canon AND persona 5 royal do not interact. for reference in this universe futaba and akechi are half siblings but only akechi knows that)

*

“Next time you see me, I’ll be a whole new person,” Futaba tells Akira excitedly on his second-to-last day in Tokyo. “I’m going back to school, I’m out and about by myself—oh! Oh! Did I tell you I said yes to Kosei? I told Kosei I wanted to go to Shujin and they offered me scholarship! And I went to the subway station by myself yesterday!”

They’re crammed into Akira’s Leblanc attic, sitting around a cake that literally none of them were capable of baking themselves, so they’d bought the thing from a bakery and decorated it with little black and red hearts. Ryuji is passing around his gross soda, while Ann is recounting some story that doesn’t matter with incredible enthusiasm. Makoto looks like she’s determined to enjoy herself and will hear no argument.

The whole thing is incredibly morbid, if you ask Futaba. It feels less like they’re waiting for Akira to leave Tokyo and more like they’re attending Akira’s funeral. Akechi in particular looks like he’s regretting attending, which honestly tickles Futaba more than it should, that the most dishonest Phantom Thief seems to be the only one looking as honestly put-off by the entire affair as everyone else is determined not to be.

That’s everyone else’s problem. Futaba might not be happy Akira has to leave, but she’s proud. She’s sad that Akira has to leave, but also she promised Akira that by the time that he had to leave, she’d be able to get around on her own, without clinging to him for support. And she is able. She kept her promise.

Tomorrow might be the day that Akira has to go, but today is the day that Futaba is Officially Recovered.

Akira does that annoying thing he does where he puts his hand on her head and messes up all her hair, like he’s a human cat showing affection by pissing everyone off. Futaba yelps. “Look at you. You don’t need me at all.”

“I told you that I’d be ready to say goodbye by the time you had to go back to your hometown,” says Futaba. “I haven’t broken my promises yet, have I?”

There’s a burst of laughter from Haru over something Yusuke said, who looks rather surprised to discover that he said anything funny. Both Makoto and Akechi snicker at him, and then stop immediately to glare at each other the second they realize they’ve accidentally wound up sharing an opinion.

Akira ignores them. “Well, you can still text me if you need me. Or call.”

“I’m trying to tell you I’m getting better and I don’t need you,” Futaba grumbles. “Also, what kind of psychopath do you think I am to call someone on the phone?”

“That’s what phones are for.”

“Calling people is scary.”

“I thought you were getting better?” Akira teases.

“I am!” she says, pointing a finger at him. “I am! Just you watch, Akira. I’m getting better every day.”

*

Six months after joining Kosei, Futaba locks herself in her room and does not reemerge for seven days straight.

*

She tells Sojiro that she’s sick. Sojiro tells the school that Futaba told him that she’s sick. She definitely fakes a hell of a good cough, and the school lets Yusuke send her her all the homework that she was supposed to be doing in the first place, but Futaba already knows it’s only a matter of time before Sojiro rats on her, and she won’t even blame him because it’ll be for her own good.

In the meantime, she has stashes of crackers and peanut butter from back when she was a full-time hermit. She hates the taste of peanut butter within three days. Her bed is a relief, soft like a home she never left, up until it isn’t anymore. It’s too soft. No matter how she lies on it, no matter how soft it is, a mattress just isn’t comfortable when you’ve been lying on it for seventy-four hours. It’s hot. Smothering. She feels like she’s going to drown in the blankets and they’ll have to fish her moldy, sweaty corpse out of the bottomless quicksand pit of her too-soft mattress.

The thing about being a shut-in is that you don’t actually like your room very much. It’s not a relief, or an oasis, or even a place you enjoy. You’re just terrified of everywhere else more.

She plays a lot of video games that she doesn’t even like. She watches a lot of Twitch streamers she doesn’t even like. She doesn’t do her homework. She ignores Sojiro. She pretends she’s alright to everyone who texts. She wakes up and goes to sleep and thinks about going outside and goes to sleep and wakes up and wonders if the whole last year and her cautious baby steps back into the world outside was all just a hazy dream.

*

There aren’t a lot of Thieves left in Tokyo, weirdly. Haru and Makoto both graduated, off doing business and law junk that honestly makes Futaba’s brains want to crawl out her ears, but all the numbers check out and Haru’s not in the red yet, and Futaba’s looked at enough people’s dirty laundry to appreciate Haru’s clean ledger. Akira’s back in his dinky hicktown, where there’s barely anything electronic connected to Wifi worth breaking into for surveillance, which is really boring.

Ann’s been doing so many modeling gigs that she might as well not be attending Shujin anymore. She’s practically surrounded by electronics, and all of them are connected to the internet. On any given day, Futaba can snoop through the internet trail of electronic file cabinets full of images of her face, emails about her face, paychecks for her face. Futaba sends Ann more than one email about creepy old dudes making gross comments about her, along with a bunch of other illegal shit they’ve done, plus their offshore accounts full of cash if Ann wants Futaba to sic a lawyer on them.

Ann looks like she’s having fun. Ann looks different on the other side of the computer screen, like she’s less real. Like she’s not someone Futaba really knows. Like Ann’s not someone Futaba’s literally cried on at one point in her life.

Ryuji is definitely attending Shujin, but between physical therapy, catching up on a whole year of track, athletic scholarship hunting, and studying for college admissions tests, Ryuji seems to have been swallowed whole by Shujin, really. Out of boredom, one day, Futaba went down that rabbit hole of researching what it takes to get recruited for track in college, and holy shit–apparently Ryuji’s coach was supposed to be helping him with that whole process, but of course Ryuji barely has a proper coach ever since Kamoshida left Shujin’s track program in pieces. The amount of networking he’s doing is insane, especially for one teenaged boy who barely remembers his homework every night.

Sometimes, when Ryuji’s forgotten to check his email in a while and there’s a message from a coach sitting in his inbox, Futaba will send him a text to make him check it. And then it’s all, What were you doing looking at my emails, Futaba and Which of my other passwords do you know, Futaba, as if Ryuji doesn’t just use the same password over and over and has literally nobody but himself to blame.

So it’s really just Futaba, Yusuke, and–weirdly–Akechi, who’s off doing his gap year and said he was going to go abroad, but then he never did. Not to be a huge snoop, but Futaba went digging through his junk for about five seconds and then she never did it again, because she felt really weird about finding out that the guy that killed her mom is looking into social work, volunteerism, and reforming the justice system.

Like. The man who killed the Thieves’ leader is now literally out there saving orphans. It’s wild.

She might’ve been the one to tell Akechi that he can start over again and do better, but she reserves the right to at least feel weird about it.

She does not call Akira. She talks to Yusuke at school, but she refuses to ask him to accompany her on the subway. She should be recovered by now, shouldn’t she? She was supposed to have gotten over all that when Akira left Tokyo. She’s doing fine. She’s just looking out for her friends. Her, living vicariously through her friends, who’re growing up and growing away, flourishing into young adults? Never.

*

Everything is the same.

*

Didn’t she help kill a god last year?

Didn’t she work so hard to get out of her room, to make friends, to reconnect with Kana-chan?

Didn’t she work so hard to change herself?

Didn’t she help change the world?

*

Everything is the same.

*

Tuesday, 1:43 PM

YUSUKE: Futaba?

FUTABA: yo inari

FUTABA: u got more homework for me or what

YUSUKE: Ah, no.

YUSUKE: I think your teacher finds it suspicious that I’m sending you homework when I’m not in your grade, as it is.

FUTABA: oh no

FUTABA: what a shame that we didn’t have an entire year of experience with getting away with wildly illegal magic brain crimes without raising any suspicion

FUTABA: truly emailing me like four pieces of paper a day is far too difficult

YUSUKE: Well, I can’t get your homework from your teacher, but I can give you more homework if you’d like.

FUTABA: ok bucko that wasn’t a challenge

YUSUKE: There’s a math problem set that’s been incredibly dull to get through when I have more important pieces I could be working on…

FUTABA: inari im sorry to say but

FUTABA: me literally doing your homework for you is about a thousand times more illegal than you giving me my homework when ur not in my grade

YUSUKE: Oh, is it?

FUTABA: wh

FUTABA: are y

FUTABA: what do you mean OH IS IT

FUTABA: did you not KNOW ur not allowed to have other ppl do ur hw????

FUTABA: inari have u been making other people do ur hw for u so u can have more time to do art?????????

FUTABA: no shut up i dont want to know

FUTABA: i will not be ur accomplice

FUTABA: i see ur little speech bubble thingamajig yusuke i said stop typing forever and ever

YUSUKE: I can’t invite you to the art gallery tomorrow if I can’t type.

YUSUKE: It also seems impractical for you to outlaw me from texting forever.

FUTABA: i literally did not say that

YUSUKE: You said, and I quote,

YUSUKE: “Yusuke, I said stop typing forever and ever.”

FUTABA: ok i know it looks like i said that but please im begging u it’s literally just an exaggeration

YUSUKE: As Makoto would say, it’s hardly an enforceable law.

FUTABA: u literally texted my sick and crusty ass just to give me a hard time

YUSUKE: Are you about recovered from your cold?

FUTABA: and now u have the nerve to ask me to go to ur art show thing

YUSUKE: I didn’t say that.

FUTABA: oh really

FUTABA: what were u gonna ask me about then

YUSUKE: The art show, naturally.

YUSUKE: But you could have done me the courtesy of letting me ask.

FUTABA: all that on the day of my daughter’s wedding and now u want me to do u a solid

FUTABA: well i have news for u

FUTABA: the answer

FUTABA: is yeah

FUTABA: sure why not

YUSUKE: Oh, excellent.

YUSUKE: I thought that you might decline on account of your illness.

FUTABA: i’m not a punk bitch

FUTABA: i’m going

FUTABA: u were only working all those paintings for like two months i wanna see their oily faces in person

YUSUKE: Just because they were made with oil paints does not mean that they are oily.

FUTABA: cant wait to see my oily boys

YUSUKE: Unfortunately, I have to set up the event beforehand, so I will not be able to accompany you on the way here.

YUSUKE: Will you be alright by yourself?

FUTABA: uh

FUTABA: hmm

FUTABA: how oily are these boys in case i need to call a rain check

YUSUKE: Hmm.

YUSUKE: Perhaps someone else can go with you.

YUSUKE: Let me see if I can find someone.

FUTABA: what like one of ur art friends

FUTABA: i’m not going with anyone i dont know sry

YUSUKE: I’ll keep it in mind.

Tuesday, 1:59 PM

YUSUKE: Unfortunately, Ann and Ryuji were not available. Both of them will be coming late to the art show.

YUSUKE: Fortunately, Goro is.

FUTABA: whomst

YUSUKE: Goro Akechi?

YUSUKE: Crow, in case you know multiple Goro Akechis.

FUTABA: no like why u callin him goro

YUSUKE: I asked him if I could and he said yes.

YUSUKE: There’s not many people left in Tokyo who were part of the Thieves.

YUSUKE: I’m not exactly popular at school myself, so I thought it prudent to hold onto the connections I already had.

FUTABA: hhhhhhhhhhhhh

FUTABA: but why him……………………………………….

YUSUKE: Has he done something wrong?

YUSUKE: Well.

YUSUKE: Besides the obvious.

YUSUKE: Last I heard, you were quite vocally supportive of Goro making a change for the better,but have you prehaps reconsidered?

FUTABA: i mean he’s always been nice to me

FUTABA: like even before he was on the team as crow

FUTABA: and then later after he like lost his shit and tried to kill us

FUTABA: he was also like weirdly nice

FUTABA: even if he was dressed as a tokusatsu villain

FUTABA: but

FUTABA: i

FUTABA: ok this is gonna sound really weird but like

FUTABA: you know how i said that the person to take me to the art show has to be someone that i know

YUSUKE: Yes.

FUTABA: even though akechi was one of the thieves at the end

FUTABA: i feel like i dont really know him

FUTABA: he like had that whole breakdown where he spilled all his kylo ren sadstuck junk and then he peeled his dumb ass up off the floor and then we beat up his dad in a dark alley

FUTABA: and then i guess akira likes him a bunch and hangs out with him and i guess probably talked to him about all that stuff that happened

FUTABA: and also i think ann talks to him

FUTABA: and also haru i think for some reason……………………..

FUTABA: but like i feel like. we as a group. never really uhhhhhhh

FUTABA: got to know him very well i guess

FUTABA: because he spent like the whole year being a fake ass bitch

FUTABA: and then by the time he wasnt, the thieves were busy literally fighting god, and it was all business business business

FUTABA: ughghfhg i guess this is just a really long way of saying that like yeah ok i guess i do know him but i dont think i really do

FUTABA: even when he was off the shits in the engine room it was like

FUTABA: somehow that was not……………………………….. really him

FUTABA: idk maybe this is just my Thoughts but like

FUTABA: idk some people are like “your true self is who you are at your worst” and

FUTABA: yeah maybe you are some PART of urself when youre at your worst but like

FUTABA: also not???

FUTABA: that can’t be it

FUTABA: that’s not ALL of you

FUTABA: so all i ever saw was him when he was being a fake ass barbie prince and then when he was like actively losing his shit

FUTABA: and both of those were like. two types of fake ass barbie prince

FUTABA: except obviously the one where he started screamin about murder and trying to kill joker was like, fake ass serial killer barbie prince

FUTABA: anyway i dont buy it for a second that seeing akechi at his worst means that i know the first thing about his “”“”“”“”“true self”“”“”“”“”“”“

FUTABA: like i know that i technically met him but also at the same time i dont think ive ever really actually met this dude

FUTABA: uh tldr what’s the truth crowboy

FUTABA: second tldr do you got anyone else i can go to the art show with because im not unpackin all that junk in the trunk while also trying to fend off a panic attack in the subway

YUSUKE: Well, to speak to "what’s the truth, crowboy,” I’d say he’s actually really funny.

FUTABA: WHAT

YUSUKE: Yes, actually.

FUTABA: YOU TRYNA TELL ME YOU SHARE A SENSE OF HUMOR W AKECHI

YUSUKE: As everyone knows, I don’t have a sense of humor.

YUSUKE: But if I did, that might not be inaccurate to say.

YUSUKE: Either way, we could ask Boss if he’ll take you to school.

FUTABA: no

FUTABA: im not makin him shut down leblanc for the day just cause i cant get my shit together

FUTABA: and i go to school by myself all the time now i dont need to be walked there by my dad like a four yr old

FUTABA: r u sure u dont have anyone else who can take me

YUSUKE: You said it had to be someone you know.

YUSUKE: I can take you.

YUSUKE: But I’ll be getting to Kosei early to prepare.

FUTABA: how early is early

YUSUKE: Four in the morning.

FUTABA: PLEASE INARI

YUSUKE: The people you know is a quite limited pool, Futaba.

FUTABA: shut the hell ur face i dont need u tellin me to make kosei friends too

FUTABA: i get my butt to school every day i’m already a hero

FUTABA: ok alright

FUTABA: crow-san it is

FUTABA: hhh

FUTABA: no shut up stop typing i’m fine

FUTABA: i already saw his dumb ass get inflicted with Horny from Yaldy God Himself i ain’t afraid of no crows

FUTABA: actually now that i remember that that was pretty funny mwehehehehehehe

FUTABA: OKAY send me the who what when where why

YUSUKE: There’s a PDF flier. I’ll send it to you.

YUSUKE: But I will have to type the email to send it to you.

FUTABA: oh my GOD inari

FUTABA: i swear to god ur not actually this dense and youre just pretending u dont know what an exaggeration is just to drive me up the wall

YUSUKE: Oh, that is a possibility, isn’t it?

FUTABA: WH

YUSUKE: Ah, last period is starting. I’ll have to talk to you later.

FUTABA: WHAT

FUTABA: NO WAIT

FUTABA: HELLO????

FUTABA: YUSUKE NO COME BACK

Tuesday, 2:53 PM

FUTABA: YUSUKE HAVE YOU BEEN MAKING AKECHI DO UR HW FOR U SO YOU CAN DO MORE ART??

FUTABA: IS THAT WHY UR ON A FIRST NAME BASIS W HIM

FUTABA: ANSWER ME STRINGBEAN

*

In Futaba’s opinion, there’s an infinite amount of more embarrassing reasons to pull yourself out of your depression pit than “I needed to yell at my friend for being a snotty bastard,“ and there’s worse escorts to have than the weird guy who went from being a professional murderer to their weird awkward friend. Firstly, if there’s anything that can motivate Futaba Sakura, it’s the primal urge to dunk on her friends for spite and memes. Secondly, there’s no chance in hell Futaba’s going to have a breakdown in front of Akechi.

She can do this. She got herself out of this grave once; she can do it again. Even if Akira isn’t here. She’s getting better. She promised him.

On the eighth day of her almost-return to hermithood, Akechi texts her:

AKECHI: I’m here.

AKECHI: Are you ready to go?

Futaba is wearing only an old shirt, no bra, sweats, and vaguely greasy hair from all the showers she’s skipped.

FUTABA: i’m SO ready

FUTABA: the readiest

FUTABA: ultra mega super ready

FUTABA: featherman ranger code name Ready

AKECHI: Oh.

AKECHI: Alright.

Hell yes alright. Time for Futaba to save her own life from her gravesite of a room.

With… Goro Akechi. Wow, life is weird, huh?

She drags on her Kosei uniform like a skin discarded long ago. It feels stiff. Maybe because it feels wrong to wear school clothes like a functioning human; maybe because she just hasn’t washed it in a week. The very idea of explaining herself to Sojiro stresses her out, so she doesn’t do it. The idea of not explaining herself to Sojiro, when he deserves an explanation and also would probably have a heart attack if he realized that she’d disappeared from her room without his knowing, also stresses her out, so she still doesn’t explain herself to Sojiro.

I told Akira I’m better now. I can do this. I did this for more than six months. I was out of my room in the real world, I went to the school festival, I changed my own heart…

She creeps down the stairs like a thief in her own house and pokes her head out the door. Goro Akechi is fiddling with his phone in the sun outside her house, looking like he, too, has only just managed to pull on his Human Suit and look like a guy who didn’t make shadows beg for mercy for fun, so it looks like this whole expedition is going to be a lot of fun.

"Futaba-chan?” says Akechi, only just noticing her lurking in her own doorway. “It’s been a while since we last saw each other. How are you?”

Futaba opens her mouth. No noise comes out.

Akechi’s eyebrows slowly begin to knit together.

“I’m good,” she says squeakily. Clears her throat. Holy shit, she’s not afraid of Akechi after all that junk they went through in the Metaverse. She saw him as a rat. She saw him visibly want to break his father’s face when Shido tried to apologize to him on live TV. Once, Makoto and Akechi got into an unironic, passionate, hour-long argument about whether or not it’s beneficial to color code your notes.

“I’m alright!” Futaba announces louder, maybe a little loudly, considering the way he looks only more concerned. “L-Let’s hurry up and get this sidequest over with!”

She pulls her hoodie over her head and jams her hands into the pockets and makes herself as small as possible and inches out of the doorway. “If you… say so,” says Akechi, and eventually matches her incredibly slow pace as she shuffles her way towards the main street.

When the noise of Yongen-Jaya’s street hits her, her heart rate (already high as hell) spikes even higher like the first day she’d come out of her room, but the old coping mechanisms come back like second nature: Breathe slower, avoid eye contact, remember her mission, stick to the sides of the streets. Breathe slower. She’s still got it. It’s still hard, but she’s got a whole arsenal of ways to deal. She can do this. She will kick Yusuke’s ass for being a dick, if only out of sheer spite.

If Akira were here, I could hide behind him and…

No, shut up, shut up. All she has is her hoodie and Goro Akechi. Akira’s not here. She can do this by herself.

Akechi makes precisely two attempts at small talk (“How has Kosei been?” “Have you seen the pieces Yusuke submitted to the art show before?”) before he realizes that Futaba isn’t going to respond by virtue of barely holding onto her shit by her fingernails. He shuts up and sticks close by. Futaba makes her way down the streets towards the subway like walking on a tightrope. The subway station isn’t busy, but she puts every step in front of her like she’s going to fall. Getting on the subway might as well be a highwire. Futaba and Akechi wait for the train in mutual silence to the sound of other commuters murmuring amongst themselves, like a toothless echo of Mementos’s depths.

When they get on the train, people around her are quiet, thank god, but all of a sudden she’s convinced that she smells because she hasn’t taken a shower in literal days, and she tries to pack herself into her seat as tightly as possible. The guy in front of her is scrolling through something at a ferocious pace and his thumbnail keeps hitting the screen with this incessant clack, clack, clack noise. The subway voice announces their next station as the doors begin to close, and a girl suddenly sits bolt upright, having realized that this is her station after all, and bangs Futaba’s knees hard as she passes. Futaba wants to curl her legs to her chest, but she’s wearing Kosei’s uniform skirt and it’d just make everyone stare at her if she did that on the subway. She curls her fingers into the skirt hem. She stares down at her knees and lets her hair drape around her like a curtain. She can do this. She can do this. Breathe slower. Even slower. I did this for more than six months, I told Akira I’m better now, I changed my own heart…

Akechi pulls out his phone. Futaba’s phone buzzes.

AKECHI: Are you alright?

FUTABA: i said i was ready dude

Akechi types and retypes an answer, which technically Futaba could just look over his arm and read, but instead Futaba flips through apps on her phone and pulls up a shitty mobile dungeon crawler. She dies four times before Akechi puts his phone away without sending anything.

They pass multiple stations like that. Futaba sure as hell hopes that Akechi’s watching which station they’re on, because she isn’t. After the millionth time she dies, Futaba just closes the app altogether. Concentration’s shot. Can’t focus on anything. Heartbeat’s too loud. Breathing’s too loud. The guy next to her is breathing too loud. Everything is too loud.

New text:

AKECHI: Yusuke said you’d recovered from your cold, but you still look a little unwell.

Futaba doesn’t respond to that. She doesn’t need Negative Nancy over here telling her she’s gonna crack. Because she isn’t gonna. The subway starts to slow, and the voice announces the station for Yusuke’s school. She’s literally almost there, she’s right there, she might die in three seconds because her heart is going to pound of her chest but at least she’s going to make it, she promised Akira that she was alright—

The subway doors open. Passengers stand to get off. Akechi stands up. Futaba drops like a rock.

“I can’t,” Futaba’s voice says. She sounds like she’s crying. “I can’t, I can’t do it, I—”

“Futaba—”

“I’m can’t do it, I—”

She buries her face in her knees on the dirty subway floor. Oh, she really is crying. “I’m sorry,” she says, “I’m so sorry, I couldn’t…”

Around her, people’s feet stop moving. They’re staring at her. She’s crying on the subway and everyone is staring at her. “Shh,” says Akechi, like Futaba doesn’t know she’s being a loud and irritating pest, but then he takes off his winter coat and covers her with it. Suddenly everything goes dark. It’s a huge coat, too; it wraps around her whole torso with enough room to spare to cover her entire head. Inside, it’s like she’s back in her room, only listening to the sounds of real life somewhere on the other side of a computer monitor, where it can’t hurt her. It’s so surprising she hiccups to a stop. Two hands pull her up by the shoulders and guide her to stand. “Up. Let’s go.”

“Is she okay?” says a voice.

Futaba’s entire body seizes with fear. She ducks into her own knees, trying to disappear.

“Hey, little girl, are you alright?”

“She’ll be fine,” says Akechi’s friendly, super fake ass barbie prince voice. “My sister just had a hard day. I’m sorry for the inconvenience.”

“A hard day?” Now the stranger’s voice is accusatory.

“For your information, our dog was recently brutally run over in front of her eyes.”

“Young man, are you serious right now?”

“Oh, yes. There was blood everywhere. Its intestines squelched horribly under the tires less than six feet away from her,” Akechi goes on. Futaba chokes, and then hiccups in what she realizes is almost a laugh. “Please excuse her. Thank you.” And before the literal complete stranger can follow up on that awful statement, Akechi takes her hand and pulls her up.

Futaba stumbles to her feet. If she has to take the coat off right now, she will actually die.

“It’s okay. Just hold my hand and follow me.”

Blindly, she lets him lead her out of the subway, weaving through people with only minimal contact with other people’s shoulders. There’s a whole awkward period where Akechi has to walk her up the stairs out of the subway station while she can’t see anything, but eventually the noise and bustle of other people around her seems to die away, and the air grows cooler in the way it does in the shadows between city buildings. Then they stop walking altogether. When Akechi lets go of her hand, she almost tries to grab it back before she catches herself.

“Okay. There’s nobody else around, now. It’s safe.”

Futaba doesn’t come out of the jacket. In the dark, her eyes dart back and forth, trying to see even as she blinds herself.

“Sorry for grabbing you so suddenly like that,” Akechi’s voice goes on after it becomes obvious she’s not going to come out.

Futaba wipes snottily at her own face. Oh, this is so gross, she’s got snot and tears on top of five days worth of grime and body juice because she hadn’t taken a shower. She’s disgusting. She really actually wants to die right now. She can’t show her face like this.

“Er,” says Akechi. “Do you want…. water, or…?”

Futaba folds up right there on the city pavement, probably dragging Akechi’s nice coat all over a dirty alleyway. She tucks her face into her knees, where she feels safest, and pulls the coat flaps even tighter. “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to be.”

“I’m sorry for not being okay,” she mumbles.

There’s a short silence. “You really don’t have to be.”

“I do,” Futaba says. She feels like she’s nine years old again, a petulant kid who needs to hold people’s hands and be escorted around Tokyo. “This is—it’s stupid, and I can’t believe I-I’m still doing this, a-and even a-after everything that h-happened last year, I’m still just a… I’m still…”

“It’s fine,” says Akechi. Even he sounds overwhelmed, and at the first sound of weakness, she pulls the coat off her head and glares at him furiously, red-faced and covered in tears and snot and gross depression juice crust and all.

“I’m not supposed to be this way anymore!” she says miserably. “I’m supposed to be better! Moved on! Doing literally a-anything else but crying over t-taking a subway! It’s stupid and nobody else is like this and I just want to be over this already and I just want to be better already and—!“

She covers her face with her hands again. God, even when she says that, it sounds pathetic.

After a moment or two, she hears Akechi moving again. She peeks at him. He’s crouching in almost the exact same pose as her, looking like he’s resigning himself to neither getting his coat back, nor moving from this spot any time soon, nor getting to Yusuke’s art show on time, but also looking archly and entirely unperturbed about it. Actually, it looks like he’s writing a work email on his phone.

Futaba was right about being in an alleyway, but it’s so cold because they’re shielded by a trio of vending machines selling canned coffee and wrapped sandwiches. "Our dog was recently run over?” she says.

“People can mind their own damn business,” says Akechi in his Pleasant Boy Voice, without looking up from his email.

“He was just trying to help.”

“Oh, yes, let’s help the crying girl by crowding her and suffocating her in a crush of public transit.”

Futaba snorts. “That was really mean of you.”

“Oh, absolutely,” says Akechi.

Futaba sucks a truly disgusting gob of snot into her nose. “Ugh. I wish I could’ve seen the guy’s face when you told him that.”

“It was like I’d spat on his shoes. I should’ve kept going. Or had a camera.”

“Futaba giggles wetly into her forearms. "Like one of those—those prank videos online… Get Yusuke to film it.”

“Yusuke, as the cameraman? I’m not trying to make a documentary.” Akechi flips to a different screen on his phone. “I already texted Yusuke about our poor dead dog, by the way, so don’t worry about it.”

Suddenly Futaba feels like literal garbage again. “Why are you always so nice to me?” she mumbles.

Akechi makes a weird face, like he’s trying to do his old Pleasant Boy shtick while having swallowed a lemon whole. “You say that like me being nice is somehow unusual.”

“Uh, yeah. Because it is. You literally were just being a huge asshole to a guy you’d never met over a fictional dog.”

Akechi has this increasingly disgruntled look on his face like he kind of wants to punt Futaba down some stairs, which, frankly, is the best sort of reward, in Futaba’s opinion. “I’m working on it,” he says grumpily.

“How’s that been?” says Futaba.

“Which part?”

Futaba has one whole moment of self reflection on this idea as maybe not a good course of action before she barrels on anyway: “The part where you’re turning your life around. Starting over. Trying again.”

“It sucks dick,” says Akechi.

“Oh, right on,” says Futaba, and then before she can stop herself: “Wait, I thought you liked dick?”

Akechi makes a noise like a strangled cat.

Futaba cackles. “Dude, incognito mode when you’re browsing for porn does not save you from people like me.”

“Have you been spying on me?”

“Uh, yes? Obviously?”

“You know you could get arrested for that sort of breach in privacy.”

“Oh, boo hoo, so sorry I know all about your weird orphan-saving night job and your smutty Featherman doujinshi collection. You’re not gonna narc on me.” Futaba stops. “Are you?”

“Stop looking at my internet history.”

“No. You better not narc on me.”

“Then stop looking at my internet history.”

“You had to google how to change a SIM card last week, crow-boy; you couldn’t stop me if you tried.”

“I will narc on you.”

“No you won’t. You’re the one trying to not be an asshole.”

Akechi makes a face like a cat being slowly submerged in cold water. Futaba laughs in his face.

“If you’re quite done,” says Akechi grouchily.

“No, never. You’re made for being made fun of,” says Futaba. “I’m gonna be making fun of you for years and years, crow-boy; you’re never going to get rid of me.”

“Great.”

“Gonna be creeping on your weird orphan-saving night job until the day you die.”

“Wonderful,” says Akechi without inflection whatsoever.

“Mwehehehehehehehehehe.”

“If you’re quite done.”

“I will take a well-deserved break from my endless duty to troll you both on and offline,” says Futaba. “Because I really really really wanna go to the art show.”

Akechi has the nerve to look relieved that he no longer has to squat in a dirty alleyway listening to a high school freshman bully him. “Then let’s go.”

Futaba hugs her knees tight. “But I wanna keep your coat.”

“Aren’t you wearing your own coat?” says Akechi, trying to look like he isn’t shivering. “Aren’t you getting hot?”

“I’m keeping it.”

“It’s my coat.”

“I’m keeping it.”

“Fine, then. Keep it. It’s dry clean only.”

“Oh, ew. No, take it back, gross, gross,” and Futaba peels the snotty, tear-stained, dirty winter coat off and dumps it back in Akechi’s arms, who looks at it with the expression of someone long-suffering and without hope of escape.

“And,” says Futaba, “I wanna see it if you tell anyone else that our dog got run over.”

Akechi smirks. “You’ll have to film it, then.”

“Oh my god, like I wouldn’t.”

Futaba scrubs her face one last time. She still feels like she’s covered in a grimy layer of slime, but maybe she can wash her face at Kosei. When she gets there. Because she’s gonna get there.

“Uh, one more thing,” says Futaba.

“Not like you’ve bullied me into doing literally everything else you’ve wanted,” says Akechi.

“You can’t laugh at me.”

“Good thing I don’t have a sense of humor,” says Akechi, which horrifyingly confirms to Futaba that Akechi and Yusuke, of all people, really do share a sense of humor.

Futaba hesitates. “Please, um… please don’t tell Akira about this.”

“Why would I tell Akira?“

"Nice. Good answer.” She smooths her hair down, trying to make herself presentable, or just have something to do with her hands. “I… told him I was gonna be okay without him and all that, so… I don’t wanna let him down, you know?”

Slowly, almost shyly, Akechi smiles. “Oh, yes. I know.”

“Our secret. Secret-keepers.”

“Secret-keepers. Are you ready?”

Futaba takes another deep breath. Pushes herself up, brushes herself off, and sighs. “Absolutely not. This is gonna suck so much dick,” says Futaba. “Let’s go anyway.”

[curlybookwriter0294]

Being a Roommate with a Half-Demon

Chapter One

Summary: All she wanted was a new beginning at her dream city of Tokyo. She didn't think that she'll meet a hot headed hanyo (apparently those exist) & be his roommate. She also didn't think that both of their pasts would collide and haunt them both in ways they even they couldn't imagine. SLOWBURN! AU!

Disclaimer: I own nothing from Inuyasha just the plot Warning: this story will contain mentions of domestic violence throughout the story please don’t read if you are not comfortable with it.

Roommate Wanted

Single male looking for a roommate, rent is $800 a month. Must be okay with me working nights and returning early mornings. Must know how to clean and cook for yourself. Also, you must be okay with me being a half-breed.

Kagome Higurashi leaned back on the chair that she was sitting on, her finger pressing lightly on the mouse pad on her laptop, chewing her lower lip thoughtfully as she reread the Craigslist ad that she had stumbled upon earlier.

The ad was quite interesting to her because she’s been looking for a place of her own for quite sometime now ever since she had moved to her dream city of Tokyo. However, it would’ve been harder on her if she lived by herself so she decided to scroll through this website Craigslist in hopes that someone would post an ad about wanting a roommate. Sure enough, she found an ad within minutes of her search.

“What did he mean by half-breed?” She wondered out loud, wondering why he would put that on his ad. She doesn’t understand what could it mean. She never heard of that term before.

She shrugged her shoulder as she continued to scroll down the roommate ad, trying to find some sort of phone number but instead all she could find was an email that was attached to the bottom of the ad.

Kagome sighed heavily underneath her breath, turning around to look over her shoulder at her medium size hotel room, thinking long and hard about what she should do. She stared at her half unmade bed, her belongings that she managed to get were laying on the foot of the bed. It has only been a couple of months since she started staying at this hotel. Meaning it’s been a couple of months since she had escaped.

Escaped.

The young raven haired woman still feels like she was on edge, wondering each and everyday if he’ll somehow come back and find, forcing her to come back to him, or worse.

Her whole body started to shiver violently at the thought, trying to remind herself over and over that he’s in jail and won’t be able to see the light of day again after what he had put her through. All that mattered now is that she’s safe, she’s alive, she’s in the city of her dreams and was finally starting over for the better.

Kagome closed her mahogany eyes as she took several long deep breath through her nose to calm herself down at the thought of starting over. “Your safe,” she whispered quietly, wrapping her arms tightly around herself. “He’s not here. He’s in jail. You. Are. Safe Kagome.”

She sighed in relief when her shivers had finally settled down and glanced at the ad once more, debating if she should respond to it and send this Inuyasha guy a email.

She knew from the email that was attached to the ad the person’s name was Inuyasha. However, there was no mention of a last name.

Kagome noticed a date that Inuyasha had wanted the person to move in by, smiling when she saw that it’s near the time range for when she starts her new job as a full time medical records specialist at Tokyo University Hospital. She laughed at the fate and about the opportunity that’s sitting in front of her like Kami knew that they were looking out for her.

Her small fingers drummed lightly on the mouse pad, trying to do the math inside her head. The email specifically stated that the person that’s interested should have the first month’s rent. Kagome should have plenty of money that she had stashed away in her savings account. Just enough for the first month’s rent and she’ll be starting her new job soon after!

Again, she strongly believes that Kami’s looking after her.

“Alright,” Kagome muttered, clicking the reply button at the top of the email before she changes her mind. “Let’s do it!” She smiled warmly at the screen, pursing her lip while she typed out a response, hoping that he would respond soon and quick after she had pressed the send button above the screen.

It was the sound of a loud bleeping noise that was coming from a phone that sat laying face down on a small black night stand that awoke a sleeping silver haired hanyo from his sleep.

One of his ears that sit on top of his head flickered at the sound, making one of his golden eyes open up slightly when the annoying sound made that bleeping noise again, telling him that there’s a email that needs to be open.

“Could’ve swore I put that damn thing on fucking silent.” He muttered groggily, reaching over with a clawed hand to grab his phone, wondering who had sent him a email.

He moaned when he had checked the time on the screen and muttered out a few curses underneath his breath when he saw that the time had read 5:30PM, not even close enough for him to be up which would be around eight before his club that open opens at 9:00PM.

He used an elbow to prop himself up on his bed, lifting an eyebrow with interest when the email had caught his eye.

It seems like it was a response to his roommate ad that he had posted from about a week ago from that website Craigslist, a website that his long time friend Miroku had talked to him about one day. You could literally post any type of ad you want. No questions asked.

“Huh, someone’s actually interested?”

He used a clawed finger to click on the email so he could fully read the message, cocking his head to the side which made his long mane of silver hair cascade down over his shoulder.

Hi Inuyasha!

My name is Kagome, and I’m sending out this email in regards to your roommate ad that I saw on Craigslist! I am highly interested in being your roommate! And I can definitely give you the first month’s rent right away! Please respond as soon as you can!!

Inuyasha narrowed his eyes at the email, slightly taken aback that someone’s actually interested in being his roommate after he had read it several times to make sure that he was reading it correctly.

He growled lowly, thinking that it has to be some sort of trick. There’s no way that someone would be willing to live with someone that was a disgusting half breed like him. He made it specifically clear that whoever responds to the ad had to be okay with him being a hanyo and couldn’t believe that someone actually responded.

Again, it had to be a trick.

Inuyasha hummed when he looked back at the email, wondering if this *Kagome* person was a human woman or a demon, frowning when he couldn’t find any description of her in the message. Should he even respond to her?

Inuyasha placed his phone back down on the night stand and stood up from his bed, yawning loudly as he stretched out his arms above his head, making his muscles pop from the tension from sleep. He grabbed a random shirt that was laying randomly on the floor to slip over his head and made his way over towards the kitchen.

“Might as well make some dinner.” He said quietly, turning on the stove and went underneath a cabinet to grab a small pot so that way he could make a quick bowl of ramen noodles.

After his ramen was done cooking, he made his way back to his room and sat down on his bed, using a pair of chopsticks to scoop up his delicious noodles that he loves so much into his mouth.

It took him about eight bites before he finally place the empty bowl on his nightstand, burping after the last noodle went down his throat, sighing when he side glanced at his phone that’s next to the bowl.

It has been a full week since he had made that ad about wanting to find a roommate. Truth to be told, he honestly didn’t think that someone would actually respond to it or even be interested. He was actually going to delete it once he had woken up. However, it could really help him out, especially since the recent events that had happened this past month.

Inuyasha snarled angrily when he thought back of a heated argument that had transpired between him and his elder half brother Sesshomaru. He still couldn’t believe that he had cut him off completely! All because he didn’t want to join him and the stupid corporate lifestyle by working at their dad’s company as Sesshomaru’s right hand man.

Inuyasha had never saw himself working at Taisho’s Inc. He had always dream of having something of his own without his last name being attached to it. Thank Kami he had managed to open up a club using what he had left in savings, thanking Kami again that it’s actually doing quite well despite being a new night scene.

Even so, a roommate could really help him keep his lights on and indoors.

“Damn it,” he huffed out, reaching over to grab his phone and clicked on the email to send out a quick response before turning off his phone completely so he could shower and get dress for the evening, getting mentally prepared for work in hopes for another packed night.

“Thank Kami its fucking Friday.” He said out loud while he was washing off the suds of soap from his body. “Hopefully she’ll actually show up.”

Kagome,

If you are truly interested in being my roommate, I need to meet you before we can make final arrangements. Meet me at Club Tessaiga at 11:00PM. Don’t be late.

~Inuyasha

A/N: Here is chapter one of my story!! I’m mainly going to post it on my A03 and FF account! My user name on both of those are CurlyBookWriter94 :) please let me know you guys think of it :)

[disneysholland]

afterglow - t.h.

Pairing: Tom Holland x Reader

Summary: Inspired by Afterglow by Taylor Swift. After an argument with Tom, you realize that you made a mistake so you go to make up with him.

Part 5/? of Taylor Swift Series

“GET OUT! NOW!” I screamed.

“Darling, can we please talk about this? Please, don’t kick me out.”

Tears were threatening to spill from his pretty brown eyes and normally, I would have given in right then and there. Not today.

“Tom, there’s nothing to talk about! How could you possibly think any of this is okay?! You told me she wouldn’t be there. AGAIN. But you know what? SHE WAS. AND THERE WERE PICTURES. How many times have we had this conversation? Just please. Get out.” I sat down on the couch, putting my head in my hands.

“Y/N-”

“Please, Tom. Don’t make me ask you again.”

He stood there for a moment before grabbing his suitcase he just brought through the door and walked back out.

---

It had been a week since I kicked Tom out and I couldn’t help but feel as guilty as ever. 

My phone has been filled with endless texts and voicemails left from both friends and family, trying to help fix how things had ended between Tom and I. From the moment he walked out the door, it has been ringing off the hook.

Harrison’s messages were the ones I paid the most attention to, considering the fact that Tom was most likely staying with him. He begged and pleaded, trying to get me to at least talk to Tom, who apparently was a walking disaster. Just like me.

Nikki tried calling as well to try and get me to fix things with Tom. We had become very close in the few months that Tom and I had started living together. Being in a completely different country than your own mother will do that to you.

I blew things out of proportion and I knew it. I had always been insecure, considering the fact that Tom was always surrounded by the most beautiful people the world had to offer. Though there was this one ex that always seemed to pop up around him and I still couldn’t let it go.

She once tried to get back together with him, while we were together, and I never forgot that. Deep down, I’ve always felt like he liked her better than me and it was the biggest rift in our relationship. Every time he would assure me that we were okay and that he loved me. Then I’d see her at a party with him and the cycle would continue.

I felt terrible about it. He had never given me any reason to not trust him, it was just something within me and that I needed to work on.

I needed to act and I needed to act soon. I couldn’t sit here any longer and watch the relationship that I loved so much break any more.

Standing outside of Harrison’s door, nerves suddenly erupted in my stomach. Calm down, it’s just Tom.

I gave a quick knock and took a deep breath, hoping someone would answer quickly.

A few seconds later the door opened to reveal a sweatpants clad Harrison, Xbox controller in hand.

“Oh, Y/N. Hi,” he stumbled out.

“Hey, is Tom here?”

“Yeah, he’s here. Come in, he’s in the living room.”

I followed him in and to the living room. The scene before me broke my heart. Tissues and pizza boxes were littered around the coffee table and the couch and there, in the center of the couch, was Tom. He was wrapped up in a blanket, tears staining his face, eyes red and puffy.

“Hey,” I said sheepishly from the doorway, “Can we talk?”

He sighed and nodded, looking towards Harrison as to get him to leave. Harrison didn’t get the clue and stayed standing in the center of the room.

“Harrison, mate! Please, can you leave us alone?”

“Oh, right. Sorry guys, I’ll be in the other room. Please don’t kill each other.”

With that we were alone for the first time in a week. Tom swiftly switched the TV off and turned towards me.

I gently sat down on the other end of the couch.

“Hi.” 

“Hi.” He repeated, glancing down at his hands folded in his lap.

“I’m sorry. I’m really, really sorry. It’s all me Tom, I know it. You don’t have to explain. What happened wasn’t what I meant, this isn’t what I wanted to happen. I don’t want to lose you, I don’t want to lose this. You are the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I know I have issues, I know I need to fix them. But those issues are mine and I shouldn’t let them out on you. You’ve never given me a reason not to trust you yet I still freak out about your ex-girlfriend that you’ve never expressed interest in getting back together with. It’s all in my head, baby,” I bit my lip and paused for a moment, “Please say something.”

“Y/N, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have lied to you about her being there. I thought it would avoid the fight if you didn’t know that she was there. Obviously that was not good thinking. I love you and I never meant to hurt you. You’re all that I want, I can promise you that. Not some ex-girlfriend, not some famous celebrity that everyone wants. I want you and only you and if I ever gave you any reason to think that that’s not how I feel, I’m sorry. I don’t care that you blow things out of proportion sometimes, I never want to lose you, darling.”

In those few moments he had scooted closer to me, putting a hand on my knee.

A soft smile appeared on my face for the first time in days, “Just promise me we’ll be honest with each other from now on? That’s all. I’ll take all the blame and we’ll just put this in the past. I just want to move forward.”

“I promise. And I promise to show you just how much I love you everyday from now on. I will always try to make you feel like you’re the only one. Because you are. You’re it for me, baby. There never will be anyone else.”

I leaned into him, letting our lips meet once again. God, this is the feeling that I had craved. There truly is nothing like the feeling of the one you love’s lips on yours.

“So are we good?” He mumbled as we pulled away.

I smiled, “We’re good. Let’s go home.”

Tom quickly stood from the couch. “HARRISON! We’re leaving! Don’t call me for three days, I’m gonna need all the time in the world to make up with my girl.”

I rolled my eyes and shoved his chest, “Tom!”

“What?! They always say make-up-”

“Alright, alright, I get it. Let’s just get out of here.”

Meet me in the afterglow...

[uwua3]

snap.

🍁📸 fushimi omi

summary: 5 times omi pretends it’s fine, and 1 time he snaps

warnings: anger issues, therapy, fights

notes: i wrote this based on a personal experience i’ve been recently had with a friend! although they are dear to me, i get tired easily from serious fighting and it brings back bad memories. so, this is just an one–shot that makes my frustration productive instead of taking it out on people!

omi is definitely one of the most patient people in mankai, but i feel like even he has limits and snaps every once in a while. this is just an example of being so mentally tired of fighting that you have no control over your anger anymore ♡

word count: 2,387

music: down in flames – aj mitchell

1.

Omi had been friends with you for as long as he could’ve remembered. You moved to Yosei University two years ago during his freshmen year, and Omi quickly became your tour guide after becoming the resident photographer of the academy, meaning he knew every possible spot on campus.

The first time Omi met you was in one of his classes, where he found his way to the classroom and had one goal in his mind: sit at the seat closest to the door. Omi never liked confrontation, but he’d rather have the professor call on him for sitting front row than have to rush past countless students to barely make it to his next class. His schedule was so packed to the point he needed a break, so when he turned and saw you sitting in his seat, Omi nearly groaned in frustration. It wasn’t a big deal, calm down, Omi.

Omi hated getting angry. The emotion of rage was so common, but he understood it was second to whatever feeling he felt first. Omi carefully took a few deep breaths just like his therapist instructed as he made his way to the open seat next to you, sitting down with a practiced smile to mask his slight annoyance. Omi didn’t like anger, he didn’t want to subject any of his frustrations onto you, especially a stranger who didn’t know him.

It was ten minutes into class before the professor put everyone in pairs to discuss the topic with the person next to you as an icebreaker.

You turned as Omi remembered his lessons: put your hand out, have a friendly smile, and lightly shake their hand. That’s how you make friends, after all! The moment you took his hand, everything changed as you two started talking immediately and got off–topic way too fast. You two clicked! Omi’s underlying tension with you disappeared as his brain recognized you as a new friend.

As he waved goodbye and hurried to his next class, Omi looked forward to seeing you every class.

2.

You’re included in Omi’s friend group after no time at all. You fit in well without any problems, you got along with everyone and Omi was so relieved because he quickly found out you were... problematic.

Omi didn’t realize this at first, but you had a temper. It was an issue he understood, but Omi has spent his entire life trying to not let it explode out of no where. You, really didn’t care. You would initiate arguments over things that really didn’t matter, like miniscule things even Omi didn’t hyper–fixate on. You’d raise your voice, convinced you were 100% right and there was no room to disagree.

Omi would just apologize even if he didn’t mean it and move on from the topic, subtly changing subjects because really, arguing exhausted him. Omi grew up with an all–male house, so the testosterone within his family was tiring, to say the least. Omi had to be the peacemaker, the balance between all the boys (puberty was hell). So, deterring fights with you weren’t exactly difficult, it was just taxing.

One time, you were criticizing Omi for a joke he made. He couldn’t even remember what it was, but you were adamant that he was completely wrong and you began explaining why. Omi glanced around the room, you two were having lunch in the courtyard with his friends. They didn’t seem to notice, used to your outbursts and talked amongst themselves. Wow, thanks guys.

“I’m sorry, you’re right.” Omi tried to calm you down, but you got even angrier (how was that possible?!). You got into it like it was a debate, so Omi just silently ate his food as he half–listened to you and tried to focus on passing students. You went on and on, but Omi couldn’t find it in himself to fight back. He didn’t like that, Omi didn’t like anger.

Omi breathed in and out three times. Omi counted to ten in his head. Omi didn’t look at you. Omi hated getting angry.

So, Omi just kept saying sorry.

(But, was it even his fault?)

3.

You guys moved to texting to stay in touch outside of Yosei University. At first, it was school updates on events that you two wanted to hang out together at. Then, it became like every 21st–century friendship: sending memes. You and Omi had a similar sense of humor, so it wasn’t hard to send him something that made him laugh out loud. He didn’t really follow that many modern online trends because he was often preoccupied with schoolwork, but he understood the appeal.

It wasn’t until he questioned some picture you sent that you blew up his phone with texts, yelling at him for not knowing what joke you were referring to. Omi blinked, he wasn’t used to phone rants. You didn’t even explain the joke, you just made fun of his inability to understand things. Omi almost felt insulted until he remembered this was common, you just liked doing this. You were just tempermental, that’s it.

You were like his brothers. Omi knew what to do, trying to push aside his feelings of hurt as he apologized. You took it this time, much to his relief.

Omi decided to research more stuff about your favorite references so he could stay updated. You were much better with him the next time around and Omi avoided asking questions because you’d only get mad. Omi didn’t want you to be angry, Omi hated getting angry.

Omi hated anger.

4.

Your anger moved to the classroom. The students around you guys liked talking, so you five often grouped up for projects and always talked about “a C is passing”. But sometimes, you liked starting fights even in public with mere acquaintances.

Omi wouldn’t say your stubbornness was a fault. Omi once asked about it in a moment of bravery, and you surprisingly told him you felt silenced most of your life, so you didn’t hesitate sharing what makes you uncomfortable and what hurts you. That was fair, Omi became more understanding of your stubborness and inability to compromise without emotions clouding your judgement. He’d just have to work on managing it.

Omi’s therapist didn’t seem to like you, oddly enough. When Omi shared that you liked fighting, they almost looked concerned. They asked if what you started made Omi angry, and Omi always shook his head and denied it. Yeah, sure sometimes you got him riled up, but he’s never seriously yelled at you in public. He knew how to control his anger management issues, he knew how to be calm again.

He was close though, that day. You were in class, picking on him for something he didn’t even know about. Omi just laughed, trying to play the whole thing off as a joke as you tried to get him mad.

You always hated how, placid, Omi was. He never fought back and didn’t have the drive your other friends did. It was confusing, he was clearly passionate about his hobbies, so it’s not like he lacked energy. He’s yelled before, but always out of exaggeration or acting. Omi was a gentle giant, but you wanted to see him angry, for once.

When you said something particularly embarrasing, Omi’s eye twitched as his heart rate sped up. His blood pressure rose when people started laughing, taking the fun out of the joke when the attack suddenly felt serious. Omi was about to snap, say something he knew he’d regret before he took in a deep inhale through his nose, and exhaled through his mouth. In and out, just like his therapist taught him.

Omi just laughed, much to your chagrin. What was there to laugh about? How could someone be so composed, no matter what?

You gave up, not noticing Omi’s tight fists and practiced breathing next to you. Omi refused to get angry, Omi hated getting angry.

5.

University was closed because of quarantine. Omi missed seeing his friends and often relied on texting now to stay in touch. Omi wouldn’t say he was clingy, but he definitely liked sending messages and shared everything on his mind as the older brother figure. You didn’t seem to like that.

You: Why do you always come to me for these situations if you don’t even listen to me?

Omi stared at his phone screen, confused. Why were you suddenly angry? Everything was going so well, you hadn’t lashed out at him in forever. It was before quarantine, you were enjoyable when you weren’t suddenly mad at him. Omi typed, furrowing his eyebrows.

Omi: I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you mad.

You had sent a message immediately, something about how you couldn’t listen to his rant today and left. Omi was distraught, had he said something wrong? Omi scrolled through his messages, but it’s like you got angry out of no where. Did you like doing this?

Omi muted your contact. For once in his life, he felt like maybe this wasn’t his fault, this time. You exploded on him when he was sharing a vulnerable moment, it almost offended him to the point of writing a long message to show he was hurt.

Never mind that, Omi just dialed it down. Maybe, his friends didn’t want to hear all about his problems, maybe he pushed too much onto them. Omi breathed out, bringing his pointer finger up eye as he pulled it back, seeing the glisten of a tear. Without warning, Omi felt himself start producing tears out of frustration. Omi didn’t know why he was so emotional, it had been so long since he felt emotions this intensely after the many, many one–sided arguments.

Omi laid his head down on his pillow, trying to stop crying. Omi didn’t like all the fights, pretending like it didn’t bother him, that you found it funny to try and test his patience. Omi hated anger, Omi hated getting angry.

But, this time, Omi wasn’t even angry. Omi was just confused why you were angry at him all the time.

You tried messaging Omi the next day. At first, he tried ignoring it, wanting to get some satisfaction from being the petty person for once. But, he relented, getting back in the same cycle.

You seemed to be avoiding the topic of what happened. Omi felt confused, and wanted to resolve the slight tension. Omi apologized first, and for once, you even said sorry back! You explained why what Omi did was hurtful (Omi really didn’t understand, but he tried to), and Omi responded in a similar fashion.

(You ignored it. You sent him a meme.)

Was it fair to say his feelings were hurt? Did his feelings matter to you? Omi sighed, knowing this was the best he was going to get. You were probably just emotionally drained like he was. At least, you weren’t angry.

+1

It was the next day, and Omi snapped.

No, scratch that, it had been mere hours before you got angry at him in a groupchat. For once, Omi’s friends were defending him, saying he was just making funny associations with some T.V. show Taichi made him watch and it was all fun and games. You got angry, saying you felt uncomfortable being associated with a character and that Omi always remembered things based on colors.

Omi stared at his phone screen, again. Omi just liked colors, he hated to admit it, but colors often were essential to his memory. So, no wonder he got into photography! It was just a different way of thinking, and Omi tried explaining that as best as he could. But, he could tell even the others knew his patience was on thin ice as he monotonously texted back.

Omi: Please calm down, it’s just a joke. I wasn’t personally trying to attack you at all. Why are you angry?

You had responded, again and again until Omi sighed, resigning himself to apologize rather than play into your games. Was this all a test? Why were you angry so soon after you two apologized to each other?

Omi said sorry, and you stopped saying anything. Later in the day, you tried to send him multiple memes you knew would make him laugh. Omi just left them on read, trying to go through his day without lashing out at you after the whole episode. It was one thing to fight with him privately, but in the group chat? Omi almost felt betrayed.

Omi was overcome with rage. Omi was just re–reading the messages before his vision went red. His blood was boiling, his heartbeat was drumming in his ears. It had been so long since Omi felt like he wasn’t in the wrong, like the argument wasn’t his fault. Omi sat up, trying to massage his temples as he breathed in and out. But, they came out uneven and haggard, making him even more on edge as he held his head in his hands.

Why was this the last straw? You had fought with him over worse, but this time, Omi couldn’t control his emotions as well as he wanted to. You starting fights with him wasn’t okay, it’s not fine. Stubbornness couldn’t excuse the mental drain he felt every time he talked to you and the way he’d tip–toe around everything instead of talking freely, like he deserved.

Omi picked up his phone, and texted you, despite all his anger.

Omi: I think we shouldn’t talk to each other for a while. I’m tired of being angry all the time. I’ve worked too hard to sacrifice all the progress I’ve made for myself to be calm, you can’t take that away from me. I don’t want to be angry at you, I just want to be friends. Please, let’s talk again when you don’t see me as your inferior, but a friend.

Omi muted you for good and didn’t bother checking your messages. Maybe you won, you got him mad, but Omi felt the anger in him fade away as he realized there’d be no more arguments, fights, or sides to choose tomorrow.

Omi was tired of saying sorry when he didn’t mean it. Sure, he hated anger and getting angry, but sometimes, Omi needed it to say “no”.

[sad-boy-mono]

High school casualties

Chapter 1/?

Word count-1,779 

Masterpost with Ao3 link

Damien sat at his desk, the typing on his keyboard slowly coming to a stop as he finally finished the essay he had been working on for the past few hours. He looked at the bright screen of his laptop and quickly skimmed the concluding paragraph. Satisfied with his work, he closed his device and sunk into his chair as he let out an exasperated sigh. His bed looked more inviting than ever.

Damien, enjoying this new found sense of relaxation, threw off his glasses and rubbed his strained eyes so intensely that colorful dots and random patterns began to flood his eyelids. His head ache pounding harder than it had been over the past few weeks, but hey, at least he finally finished that essay.

Once his eyes felt somewhat hydrated again, he pulled himself out of the old office chair he had been sitting in. He stretched his stiff body, joints popping loudly.

Pretty sure that wasn’t there when I started, Damien thought to himself as he saw the sun peak up from behind his curtains of his window, What time is it anyways?

Damien scanned the area for his phone, spotting it buried under a small stack of papers and sticky notes, as well as some gum wrappers. He grabbed it and turned it on, hissing at the sudden brightness. Letting his eyes re-adjust to the light, he checked the time. It was almost 5:30.

Well I’m only gonna get 2 hours of sleep if I go to bed now, Damien thought to himself as he made his way to his bed, but ya know, it’s gonna be fine. Maybe I can convince my brain it’s only 3! Ya hear that ya dumb stupid brain, it’s only 3 in the morning! Not 5:30! You’re gonna be fine! Everything is fiiiiiiiiiine.

As the delusional teen concluded his thought, he collapsed into bed, falling asleep within moments of his face hitting the pillow. School was going to be rough that day.

===

Yo sorry but Damien REALLY can’t come to the phone right now, so try texting like a normal person

Shayne let out an audible sigh. He had already texted his friend that he was waiting for him outside, like he did everyday. At this point, Shayne was ready to barge into Damien’s house and see if he was dead or not.

Ok if he doesn’t answer this time, I’m gonna murder him. Shayne thought, as he began to call again.

===

Damien’s eyes slowly opened to the sound of a barely familiar ringtone. No one ever called him, let alone at this hour. But without even thinking to check the caller ID, he answered. It was probably important if it was at this hour. Or one committed spam caller.

“Hello?” Damien answered groggily, sleep heavy in his voice.

“Dude where are you? I’ve been waiting for you for the past 15 minutes!” Shayne said, pacing up and down the old wooden porch that lead up to Damien’s house.

Shit, Damien sprung out of his bed so fast his head hurt (Even more then it already did) and he became slightly dizzy. He already started looking around for his clothes, “Uh-yeah sorry! I’ll be out there soon!”

“Ok hurry up, or we’ll be late!” Shayne said hanging up the phone and forcefully putting it back in his pocket with a huff, continuing his pacing.

Damien took a look at his phone and winced. Not only from 8 missed messages and 1 missed call from Shayne. Or the fact it was 8:16 and he had to be at school at 8:40 and didn’t have a car. But his headache was worse than ever. Maybe it was the lack of sleep that made it worse, or the sudden blinding light of his phone; either way, he was not having a good time.

Damien fumbled around his room, putting on whatever clean clothes he had, not really caring if it would look good in the end. He stuck a piece of gum in his mouth to substitute brushing his teeth and began the search for his backpack.

About 5 minutes later Damien was fumbling out the door, adjusting the beanie that seemed haphazardly put on at the last minute, still putting stuff in his bag and his shoes half on.

“Let’s go.” Shayne said, not even bothering to let Damien fully out the door before he started walking off.

“Dude wait up!” Damien said forcing on his untied shoe. “Look, I’m sorry I kept you waiting. I slept through my alarms.”

“Yeah it’s fine, but- Holy- Dude you look like shit!” Shayne said, actually getting a look at Damien.

“Thanks, I feel like shit.”

“What happened?” Shayne asked. It looks like you got hit by a fucking truck

“Well Shayne, that’s exactly what happened!” Damien joked punctuated his statement with finger guns and a yawn.

“What?” Shayne asked.

“No, I’m just kidding. I was up all night working on homework.”

“Oh, um, alright then, why didn’t you work on it earlier? Dude are you ok?”

“Shayne, buddy, don’t worry about it, everything is fine, totally fine,” Damien said, in an ominously cheerful tone. “Let’s just get to school and meet up with Court.”

“Ok…”

===

“Finally! There are my BOYS!” Courtney exclaimed as Damien and Shayne approached the main entrance of the school where Courtney was waiting for them. “What took you 2 so long?” She asked and wrapped her arms around both of their shoulders.

“Well someone,” Shayne rolled his eyes towards Damien and punched his shoulder slightly, “worked on his homework all night and slept through his alarms!”

“Yeah Shayne, why would you do that!” Damien said, crossing his arms

“Wha- ME!” Shayne spat, taking a small step back. And Courtney, with her arm still around him, stumbled back as well.

“Yeah you!”

“You son of a bi-”

“Ok enough,” Courtney cut them off after regaining her balance, “save the arguments for later, we’re gonna be late! And Damien,” Courtney dropped her arms from the boy’s shoulders and dug into her bag. Then after a moment or two, handed Damien a travel mug, “drink this, it’s coffee. Not exactly the way you drink it but hopefully that’ll wake you up a bit”

“Mmmmmmm, bean juice.” Damien mumbled and took a drink.

“You can have the rest, you look like you need it much more than I do.” Courtney said. Damien gasped in mock offense.

“What doth thy meaneth? Art thou saying I looketh like shit?” Damien said dramatically, lazy hand jesters included.

“Yes that’s exactly what I’m saying.” She deadpanned and began walking into the school, Shayne and Damien following.

“So what where you working on last night then?” Shayne asked.

“Yeah what was so important that you worked on it for so long it sucked the soul of you?” Courtney asked, once again wrapping her arms around her boys as they walked.

“That essay for Mr. Hecox’s class I was telling y’all about a few weeks ago.” Damien confessed.

God he really put it off for that long? Damn is he okay?

“Yeah Shayne I’m fine. I’ve just had this awful headache for the past few weeks and I wanted to work on it when it went away, but it didn’t.” Damien looked and saw confusion clear on both of his friend’s faces. “What?”

Shayne glanced at Damien, then Courtney, trying to figure out how Damien heard him.

“Um, yeah no it’s nothing. Just… never mind.” Shayne gave a confused glanced at Courtney, who gave one right back.

“What, what’re y’all looking at?”

“Oh uh, it’s nothing, just drink your coffee. This is our class anyways so we gotta shut up now.” Courtney pointed at the door, patting Damien’s arm and dropping her own arms from the boy’s shoulders.

“Oh- alright then.” Damien mumbled to himself and walked in with his friends.

They made it in the class by 8:45. So yeah, they were late. But by the looks of the empty desk right by the door, so was their teacher.

“Oh looks like we don’t have to shut up now.” Shayne said.

“Damn all that stress for nothing!” Damien sighed.

“Well, let’s just relax and chat then! Like Shayne said, we don’t gotta shut up just yet.” Courtney said, walking to her desk, the boys once again following her.

The three slid into their desks, Shayne sitting to Damien’s right and Courtney in front of Damien. They began chatting with each-other and a few people around them. Well, two of them were chatting. Damien was silent, resting his head on his desk. He may as well exploit this time to get a little more sleep, or just zone the fuck out. Either way he was resting up to the best of his ability. Trying to make the pounding in his head go away.

===

“-ien? Hello~ Earth to Damien~” Shayne said, gently rocking his sleeping friend.

“Wha-,”Damien hummed, glancing around at the classroom, hearing it quiet down.

“Sorry to interrupt your nap, but Mrs. Whittle’s here.” Shayne said with a sympathetic smile, then turned around to face the front.

Damien began to sit up reluctantly. He dug through his bag and got out the materials that his teacher listed on the board. Looks like they didn’t need much. Which Damien won’t complain about, the less work he has to do today the better.

“Alright class, why don’t you guys take a seat! I’ve got all my bearings so we can finally start!” Mrs. Whittle unlocked her computer. “Ok attendance, you guys know the drill!”

As she went down the list, Damien noticed quite a few people missing. People he was sure he noticed in the room when he first entered. Damien checked his phone again. It was now 8:57. So their teacher was almost 20 minutes late. It looks like people decided not to wait and just left.

“Alright, got that done!” Mrs. Whittle stood up from her desk and made her way to the board. “Again class, so sorry I was late today. We had an issue with one of the cats this morning and it was not pretty, ended up having to take the lil guy to the Vet but he’ll be ok! But anyways I hope you enjoyed this extra time to chat with your classmates. It works out in the end since today I planned something simple for us to work on today!”

As the class carried on, Damien barley paid attention. It’d be fine though, he would just ask Shayne or Courtney what went on and what he needed to know. It would be fine, this was a simple lesson anyways.

===

[galexii]

Play Pretend pt. 5 [final]

Pairing: Hyunjin x female reader

Genre: FakeDating!AU (?), fluff, angst

A/N: Hello i’m back with the final chapter as promised! Thank you for being patient and thank you for the support throughout this series! i hope you enjoy it as much as i enjoyed writing it! i’ll see you in my next one. PS, i thought it would be appropriate to insert a different gif to celebrate the final chapter heh

Word count: 3k+

Ever since that day you ended your deal with Hyunjin, not surprisingly, within 24 hours, the news of you and Hyunjin breaking up had broken out in school. A bunch of crazy stories started going around about what had happened. Some say that you had seduced the other members of Stray Kids, while others say you had cheated on Hyunjin with the members, leading to your ‘breakup’. Of course, with such stories, people started calling you names like ‘Slut’ or ‘Bitch’ as you walk down the hallway.

It’s funny how wild some people’s imagination are and how people just spread baseless rumours like that. Just before this deal, you were known as the shy, quiet girl who is afraid to approach others. And now, you are suddenly a cheating slut who seduces her ‘boyfriend’s’ friends.  

But nothing was comparable to the emptiness in your heart. Hyunjin was no longer a part of your life, not even as a friend. You have lost it all. You have tried living your days as per normal before the deal was done, but you have lived in that fantasy for what felt like an eternity that you no longer remember (or don’t want to remember) what your daily routine was like without him around.

You would stare at your phone all day, waiting for messages from him, but to no avail. You would stay in the library till peak hours, waiting for Hyunjin to pick you up only to realise that he was never going to come. You would wait by your window, ready to have your daily heart to heart talk, only to realise that you would never have one with him again. Your feet would carry you to the Stray Kids’ practice room, ready to get another casual slow dance lesson with him, only to realise that you are no longer entitled to that. You also went back to relying on takeout for meals as you could no longer join Hyunjin for dinner at his place.

Reality hit you hard that Hyunjin and you were never going to happen and you wallowed yourself in sorrow, but good thing finals were near which served as a good source of distraction for you. Every day after classes, you go straight home to prevent yourself from subconsciously walking over to the library or practice room. You also avoided walking near the street where Hayley’s café was located at, to prevent any encounters with the group. At home, you had your curtains closed while you drown yourself in revision.

The efforts you put in to avoid Hyunjin and any memories of him really paid off. You managed to finish your examinations with minimal thought of Hyunjin. After the exam period was over, the memories one by one came flooding back. You stayed home most of the time. Chan and the boys would ask you to hang out with them, reassuring you that Hyunjin wouldn’t be there for the outing since they know you were still uncomfortable with it. But you would decline and turn to binge watching all the romcom available on Netflix, not wanting to go out and risk having to meet Hyunjin who lives next door.

A week or so went by and you hear your doorbell ring for the first time in a long time. You removed the blanket off your body and paused the movie, before getting up to answer the door. You peeped through the peephole and saw eight figures standing on the other side of the door. You threw the door open and was greeted with loud hellos and bags of food. You stepped aside and let the boys in.

“You look horrible,” Chan say as he passed you.

“Thanks,” you replied, shutting the door after all of them entered the house. You walked back into your living room to see unloading the food items from the bags onto your coffee table.

“Is that ‘To All the Boys I've Loved Before’?” Seungmin asked. You mumbled a quick yeah and sat down at your usual spot on the couch. “Why are you watching romance films when your heartbroken? Doesn’t it make you feel worse?”

“Yes Seungmin, it does. I enjoy torturing myself that way,” You said jokingly.

“Ten years of unrequited love must have been a huge catalyst.” He teased. You glared at him and picked up the remote to continue the movie.

“Your house is surprisingly clean. I expected it to be in a hot mess since you know…” Chan say, looking around.

“I may be upset but I’m not a slop, Channie. Anyways, why are you all here? It’s like 6pm. Don’t you all have to practice for your showcase?”

“Well, you wouldn’t come out to hang out with us so we came,” Felix smiled, passing you a plate with fried chicken on it. “Plus it’s fine skipping practice once in a while,”

“Especially when our friend is in need. We’re here to make sure you’re fine and cheer you up if you’re not,” Changbin added.

“With fried chicken?” you asked, surprised with their choice of comfort food.

“Fried chicken makes everything better,” Woojin chirped, flashing a quick thumbs up, causing you to break out a small smile.

“No hyung,” Jisung took the plate of chicken from you and passed you a plate of chocolate cake. “Scientist say chocolate helps to improve mood or at least that’s what Hayley said.”

“No offense to Hayley but chicken is the only way to go.” Woojin took the plate out of your hands and pointed to the plate of chicken in Jisung’s hand. “Give it back to her,”

Jisung refused and soon, both of them started arguing. Meanwhile, in front of them, the rest of the boys somehow managed to make a mess while unpacking. Drinks were spilt all over the living room floor, food were all over the table. You look over your shoulder to see Chan panicking, trying to resolve the argument while helping to clean up the mess.

Despite all the chaos, your heart grew warm. The boys went out their way, skipping practice, buying you all kind of comfort food and coming down all the way to your house just to make sure you were fine. Before the deal with Hyunjin, you never had any close friends except for Chan due to your quiet and shy nature. Hyunjin was the only reason why you managed to make friends. After the incident, they had the choice to leave, but they still stayed by you as friends and you couldn’t be more grateful for them.

Before you know it, tears began rolling down the contours of your cheeks. All the boys froze at the sudden outburst of emotion from you. You wipe the tears away and let out a little sigh. “You guys are a riot,” You smiled, “I never had friends like you guys before, caring for me… I’m so thankful.” You hear a wave of “aww” and received a few hugs from the boys.

“Let’s just clean up and start eating,” You say, feeling shy from all friendly love you received from the boys. You quickly texted Hayley to thank her for the cake before helping to clean up the mess. In no time, the mess was gone and you were all digging into the food while watching the movie you had on.

Just like every aftermath of a big eating session at your place, the sun had set and all the boys except Chan had either passed out on the floor or on the couch thanks to food coma, leaving the two of you to clean up the mess. You switched off the tv and went to the kitchen to get empty trash bags. You passed an empty bag to Chan and began cleaning the place up.

“Have you talked to Hyunjin yet?” Your heart thumps when Chan mentioned his name.

“No,” You muttered.

“Well, he’s been a wreck ever since y’all ended things. He seems to really miss you,”

“Is this a joke?” you scoffed. “He wanted to be with Amelie since day 1. He used me to make her jealous and get her back. I am pretty sure we did make her somewhat jealous and now that all the deal is over, he is free to be with her or he is already with her. But you’re telling me now that he misses me? Don’t lie to me, Chan.”

“Well, ‘wanted’ is the probably the right word to describe it.”

“I don’t understand,”

“Look, Y/N. I’m not Hyunjin so I can’t tell you how he truly feels, but what I know is that he has been absolutely miserable after that day you confessed and broke things off. And, no. He’s not with Amelie. In fact, he has been cooped up in the practice room since then. All he does is practice, and I haven’t seen him dance with the same smile or energy he used to carry with him.”

“Maybe he’s just tired,” You gulped.

“Y/N, really?”

“I know,” you sighed. No matter how hard or tiring practice gets, Hyunjin would always wear a smile and give it his best. He never dances without passion.

“You should go talk to him or something,” Chan say, tying up the trash bags. You took one from him and followed him out of the apartment to toss them.

“I don’t know, Chan. I just don’t think I’m ready for it,” You sigh, opening up the bin to throw the trash bags in. “I just don’t know how to face him after confessing my ten-year long love for him. I just can’t face him now.” You added and walked back in, head pounding against your skull. There was just too much going on your mind right now and you needed time to yourself to think.

You headed to kitchen to wash your hands with Chan following right behind you. You quietly tell Chan that you were going to get some rest and was about to return to your room to avoid any more conversations about Hyunjin when Chan placed his hand on your shoulder, stopping you. He turned you around to face him and sighed.

“I understand, Y/N. Before you do, I have something for you.” He pulled out a leather card holder with a lanyard attached to it and passed it to you. You peeked into the card holder and pulled out the contents.

“A backstage pass and a VIP ticket?”

“Yeah, it’s for our upcoming showcase at the performance centre next weekend.”

“I see,” You say, putting the stuff back into the holder. “Thanks for the pass and invite. I did hear that it was sold out really quick so it must have been hard for you to go out of your way to get one for me.” You smiled.

“Actually, it was Hyunjin.” Chan explained, “He was the one who requested them for you.” Your grip on the card holder tightens, smile fading from your face.

“He did….?” You asked. Chan nodded and gave you a light pat on the head.

“He said that it was probably the only way he could get to you or talk to you since you were avoiding him. So, think about it okay? I think he’s really sincere this time. Goodnight, Y/N.” He added before heading into the living room to join the boys. You went to your room and closed the door behind you. You placed the card holder on your desk and glanced at the curtained window.

Could it be true? Hyunjin really missed you and even went out of his way to get a pass and ticket just to talk to you? But, what if it was just miscommunication and Chan got the wrong message like before?

You crawled under your covers and sighed. A mixture of emotions filled your mind. You really wanted answers but you were so afraid of being hurt again. Your fragile heart wouldn’t be able to handle another rejection. Eventually, a wave of exhaustion washed over you as you knock out for night.

-

The day of the showcase rolled by quickly. After much dilemma, you have convinced yourself to attend the boys’ performance and face Hyunjin once and for all. You threw on one of your nicer dresses along with a long grey cardigan. You put on a pair of flats and headed to the performance centre. You handed over your ticket to the officer upon arrival and was ushered to a private area on the second level. Just as you took your seat, you felt a little buzz in your dress pocket. You fished out your phone and opened up the text message.

‘Remember to use your backstage pass after the show – Channie’

Before you could reply him, the lights dimmed and you put your phone away out of consideration for others. After a bit, the boys came running out from the side wings, wearing similar-looking leather outfits, and lined up in front of the audience.

“Step out!” Chan started off.

“Hello, we are Stray Kids!” The members cheered. Your eyes immediately wandered to Hyunjin and for a moment, your eyes met.

“Thank you everyone for coming today! We hope you enjoy the performance we have for you today! Let’s all have fun today!” You hear Chan’s voice echoed throughout the performance centre, allowing you to break eye contact with Hyunjin momentarily. The boys bowed, indicating the end of their introduction. They got into position and soon, the first song started to play. The boys performed song after song. Not long after, it was time for the final performance. The boys gathered on stage and stood in a line in front of the audience, just like how they did during the introduction, each holding a mic in their hand.  

“We’ve come to the final part of the showcase.” Chan announced, gaining a bunch of disappointed “aww” and “no” from the audience. “The last song we are going to sing is dedicated to a special someone.”

“Yes,” Hyunjin’s voice echoed throughout, capturing your attention. He turned towards your direction and your eyes met once again. “This special someone has been there for all of us, especially me. However, I didn’t cherish that special someone well enough and things happened. So, this song expresses our appreciation towards that person, and also how I truly feel. This song is dedicated to you.” He added, looking right at you as he said the last sentence. Your heart skipped a beat as blood rushed to your cheeks.

The music started to play and the boys took turns to sing their parts. You kept your eyes on Hyunjin who had his head down throughout the first verse, head bobbing to the soft beat. Going into the second verse, Hyunjin raised his mic and began rapping his verse.

You were there all along, waiting for me.

But I was too blind to realise, too blind to see.

Chasing memories, unable to let go,

which started this vicious cycle’s growth.

Dragging you in to play this game.

Not knowing how you felt that day.

Took you for granted, never think you would leave.

Till the day you decided to call it quits, to my disbelief.

I never knew how painful it was, how lost I would be,

Till the day I let you go, a stupid mistake it is.

Your absence had made me realise.

That without you, something’s just isn’t right.

With you, it had always been sunshine for days.

Now, it’s just nothing but rain.

I still regret not chasing you that very day.

Regretting not taking the chance to ask you to stay.

I can only pray that it’s not too late.

To make a difference, to make a change.

Cross my heart, to god I pray,

Please say that you’ll stay.

Your heart swelled after hearing his verse and tears began to form, trickling down your cheeks, staining them. You wiped them away with your cardigan sleeve, taking in all of Hyunjin’s words. When the song ended, the boys took a bow as applause started to fill the hall. You joined in and clapped along. The boys said their goodbyes and left the stage, cuing you to run to the toilet to wash your face before going to the backstage to find the boys. You handed the one of the staff your pass and was shown the way to the boys’ dressing room. You thanked the staff, mustered up your courage and gently knocked on the door. The door flew open and Chan greeted you with a smile.

“Y/N! You’re here. The woman of the hour,” He opened the door wider for you to step inside. The moment you were in the room, all the boys except Hyunjin headed out. “I believe you two have many things to talk about, so we aren’t gonna interrupt you. Take your time.” Chan grinned, closing the door behind him, leaving you and Hyunjin alone in the dressing room. Hyunjin patted the space next to him on the couch and you shuffled over to sit next to him. You look down at your hands, fiddling with your thumbs, not knowing what to say or do as awkward silence filled the room. You haven’t spoken to him or been in the same room with him for such a long time that you forgot how to function.

“Thanks for coming,” You hear him say, breaking the silence.

“O-oh yeah, no problem.”

“Erm, what do you think of the last song we did?”

“I thought it was a very touching song,” you smiled, remembering the lyrics.

“It was dedicated to you. I wrote the rap myself.”

“You did?” You looked up from your hands and faced him.

“Yeah, I meant everything I said on stage.” He smiled, putting his hands on yours. The sudden contact made blood rushed to your face, reddening your cheeks and ears.

“I thought you would go after Amelie, since it was your goal then.”

“After you ended things, I did try approaching Amelie. But, being with her felt so weird. I didn’t experience any sparks or joy while being with her. Surprisingly, I found myself looking back and remembering the time we spent together when we were a fake couple. I realised I was a lot happier with you and I may have actually fallen in love with you without myself knowing during that period of time.” He confessed. You could hear the sincerity in his voice, so you knew he couldn’t be lying.

“So you decided to tell me through a song?”

“I didn’t know I would go about approaching you, but you were also avoiding me so I couldn’t get to you. Chan advised me to use this opportunity to talk to you since you would come to support Stray Kids anyways.”

“Sorry, I just assumed you wanted me out of your life so Amelie could be in the picture.”

“No, it’s alright. I am sorry I put you through that, but again, I want you to know that I am sincere. I meant every single word I said earlier.” He gave your hands a little squeeze. “Y/N, I love you.”

“Hyunjin, I –“

“I understand if you don’t feel the same way or is not able to respond to my feelings because of what I have put you through. I just wanted to let you know I feel,” Hyunjin cut you off and began to babble off. You released your hands from his grip and cupped his face, gaining his full attention.

“Hyunjin! I love you too,”

“You do?”

“I always have and I still do,” You released your hands from his face. He immediately pull you into his arms and embraced you. His warmth and familiar, comforting scent surrounded you, enveloping you in bliss. He released his hold lightly and lifted your chin slightly.

“May I?” You nodded in reply. His lips meet yours, skin tingling at the short period of contact. “I love you,” He say again, upon breaking the contact.

“I love you too,” You leaned in, ready for another kiss when the door flew open. The boys piled in, causing you two to jump away from each other.

“I TOLD YOU THEY WERE KISSING!” The maknae screamed. Chan immediately intervened and covered his mouth. A topless Jisung approached you two. Hyunjin proceeded to cover your eyes with his hand, making you giggle.

“I know you are all about that PG life and I ain’t gonna seduce your girlfriend man. I just left my clean shirt there,” You hear Jisung complain. After 5 minutes, Hyunjin removed his hand from your face and Jisung’s torso was covered. The other boys were rummaging through lockers and drawers.

“Heh… Sorry, we just needed to grab some things. Don’t mind us, please continue.” Chan said sheepishly, rushing everyone out of the room.

“What a riot,” You laughed. Hyunjin laughed along with you, with his arm around your waist, holding you tight. “No more games right?” You asked, just to clarify.

“No more game of play pretend. It’s the real deal from now,”

[kpop-uni]

Confessions // Chapter 5

Choi YoungjaexReader Based on a serial killer and his documentary Words: 3.6K Warnings: Smut, language, blood and, eventually details surrounding the murders. In this chapter specifically, there are mentions of sexual abuse and triggering topics. A/N: Smut in here, not the good kind. BUT thank you guys for waiting patiently for this chapter! It’s the final one and it’s an open-end so let me know your thoughts! I hope you enjoy it and feel free to let me know your thoughts! Chapter 4 // End

Nothing made sense, Youngjae just kept his eyes on you. It wasn't until you noticed that his mom was crying hysterically, clinging to herself that you started paying attention. Parents of the victims were rejoicing, hugging each other and happy tears were streaming down their faces. Another look at Youngjae showed his head down, hiding his face as he cried, making you stand. An officer rushed over, holding your arm to make sure you didn't move toward Youngjae, keeping you back.

"Youngjae..." You watched as he was pulled up, cuffed again and pulled from the table. "Youngjae!" You screamed, trying to move closer to him only to get stopped by the officer. You kept screaming his name, crying as Bam moved toward you, holding you as you screamed for Youngjae to come back.

"He's innocent, Bam! You know he is!" You cried into Bam's chest, arms wrapped around him as he held you tight, trying to shush you as watched Youngjae disappear behind the doors. Bam gently draped his blazer over your head, covering your face as he and Jinyoung walked out with you. Reporters were asking for comments, cameras rolling as the families of the victims spoke with reports each of them looking at you. You felt their judging eyes from under the blazer, your feet moving faster to get away from everything. Once in Jinyoung's car, you dropped the blazer on your lap, Bam sliding in next to you.

You blocked the conversation Jinyoung had with Bam, your head swirling with everything that happened. Bam occasionally looking at you, trying to get you to talk but you simply stayed silent, only staring at the single spot on the car. You didn't notice the car park, or you getting out and sitting on your couch. You looked up at the TV in front of you, the black screen showing your lost reflection. Bam and Jinyoung weren’t around, only silence surrounded you before the closing of a cabinet made you turn to the hall toward the kitchen. Jinyoung’s whispers were heard and Bam’s response echoing back.

You reached for the TV remote, turning it on and sitting back on the couch, gulping down the lump on your throat.

“...we all know it must be comforting for the parents to know that this man won’t hurt any other girl.” One of the reporters spoke.

“I would hope so, they went through so much within this past year that this justice would help them even if it’s a little.”

You looked up when Bam turned the TV off, sighing heavily. “It’s not good for you to dwell on things like this,”

Bam stayed for the night, staying with you when you woke up screaming. He and Jinyoung ran to your room, Bam immediately comforting you as you clung to him, only wanting Youngjae back. You weren’t allowed to visit Youngjae, the prison saying that only family was allowed, even with his mother’s permission, you weren’t let in. Bam came out with a message from him, that he would come out and he promises to make it all up for you. You stayed home months following after, still not allowed to visit Youngjae, no matter how much you begged or tried to bribe the officers.

Jinyoung continued to come over to keep an eye on you, sometimes staying over and sleeping on the couch. Today, he had called that once he was done with work he was going to go over to help around, starting to help you get back on your feet and get yourself back in school. You scrolled through your phone, looking over old pictures of Youngjae and you. You sniffled, head resting on your blanket, thinking of all the memories you shared with him, the joy he brought you.

A text notification dropped down from the top part of the screen, your eyes glancing up to see Bam's name.

BamBam 3:57 PM: Can you call quick? I wanna run through something with you.

You clicked the drop-down message before it disappeared, letting it take you to Bam's contact info and calling him. You waiting as it rang twice before he answered. "Are you alone?"

"Yeah? What's going on?" You could hear his out of breath voice shake a bit, the sound of the city in the background.

"Yugyeom was after me to talk to him and we had a big argument about what happened with Youngjae and I was about to hang up before he told me something."

You furrowed your eyebrows, sitting up and listening to his voice as your breathing stopped, eyes widening in shock.

"Jinyoung contacted Yugyeom a week before he went on the stand and offered him 2 grand to lie. He told Yugyeom that Youngjae did do the crimes but that Jinyoung was scared for his safety if he confronted Youngjae about it.

"So, Jinyoung took a flight over to visit Yugyeom, gave him the money, buried the jacket covered in blood that who knows where he got it from and came back."

Your lips trembled, tears rising as you whimpered. "Bam... He wouldn't. Jinyoung is his best friend-"

"Jinyoung wasn't himself the past few months, have you noticed?"

You heard your front door open, the call of your name making you scramble back to the headboard of your bed. "He's here, I have to go,"

"Be careful,"

Just as you hung up, Jinyoung came in your room, smiling at you and showing you a bag in his hands, the other hiding behind his back. “Hey, I brought you takeout.”

You hid your phone under your thigh, only looking at the bag before Jinyoung's smile fell, shoulder's slumping. "Still down?" He asked, taking a few steps to you before showing his hiding hand. "Thought that maybe you needed a little pick me up."

Jinyoung offered you a bouquet, the whole thing colorful and fill your nose with the beautiful scent of them. You reached for the wrapped flowers, taking them in your arms. "Come on, let's get food in you."

You didn't take his hand when he offered it, getting off the bed on your own, hiding your phone under the blanket. You followed him to the kitchen, watching as he turned to smile at you, setting the paper bag down. Jinyoung let you sit, taking out everything he needed, beginning to serve the food. “You okay? You look like you have something to say.”

You looked up at Jinyoung who smiled at you, setting a plate of food in front of you, giving you his full attention. “We can talk about it if you want.”

Your eyes shifted down to your food before hesitantly looking up at Jinyoung as he took a bite of his food, chewing it before swallowing. You set the flowers on the table next to your plate, fingers grazing the fork. “Did you pay Yugyeom to lie?”

Jinyoung didn’t stop eating, only looking up at you as he took another forkful of food, chewing his food. You waited for his answer, not even able to eat your food, growing tense. Jinyoung took his time eating, taking a sip of his water before looking at you. "Who told you?"

"I asked you first-"

"Yes, I did,"

You took in a breath, Jinyoung watching you closely before scoffing, picking up his fork to grab some more food. "And now you're going to ask why, right?" Jinyoung guessed, pushing his plate away as he sat back against his chair. You couldn't find words to answer Jinyoung, only sitting and waiting for him to continue.

"I figured that we could go down the old-fashioned route and I could just tell you the truth and have to prove that I'm so much better than Youngjae but then I realized that... I could've just completely removed him from the picture." Jinyoung shrugged during the pause, eyes on his plate.

You blinked, hands trembling on your lap as Jinyoung pressed his tongue to his cheek, suddenly turning into someone you didn't know. He was angry, almost shaking as he collected his thoughts.

"At first I started fucking around, you know? Mostly with girls with the same hair color, same skin complexion as you." Jinyoung waved his hand, dismissing them with a disgusted look. "I thought maybe they could substitute the feeling of you. But it wasn't the same, it never was. They wanted something more but I told them I didn't and they were just so clingy!"

You flinched when he raised his voice, Jinyoung taking a breath before relaxing. "Last year, the first girl was just calling me all the time. She told me to forget you, that she was better anyway and I just snapped."

"I panicked at first, tossing the body in the school's pool and going into hiding." Jinyoung sighed, almost as if he told this story so many times, he was growing bored of it. "There was a rush though, it felt so good to have that much power."

You tensed when Jinyoung looked at you, lips lifting in a smile. "I killed them all, just for fun. Then I realized I could just pin everything on Youngjae and have you fall for me."

You couldn't form words, too shocked to say anything but you pushed yourself back when Jinyoung stood up. You grabbed onto your chair, keeping it in front of you as Jinyoung stalked toward you.

"I'm not going to hurt you, I love you, I could never hurt you,"

"Why-"

"Because he always gets what he wants!" Jinyoung snapped, eyes blazed with anger, trembling as he grit his teeth. "It's not fair! I saw you first! I had a class with you two years ago! And you fucking chose him over me?"

You kept backing away, terrified of the change in Jinyoung, one you never saw. He got mad, sure, you've seen how angry he gets with other people but never like this. He looked like he would kill you without a second thought.

"If it wasn't for me, he would've never met you! I wanted to go to the library to talk to you, but he finally saw you and went behind my back to get to you!" Jinyoung lashed forward, yanking the chair away from your hands, tossing it like nothing toward the table.

"You know how crazy I got knowing that he was the one making you shy? The one you blushed with, flirted with, especially the one you spread those legs for so easily?" By the end, Jinyoung trapped you against the wall, hands gripping your arms.

"Jinyoung-"

"I fucking loved you! I fell in love with you the moment I laid eyes on you and you chose him?" Jinyoung noticed the way you cowered against him, how you trembled and your eyes squeezed closed, almost hugging yourself for protection.

"Princess, I'm sorry," His voice dropped to a whisper, hands loosening on your arms as he bent to your level, carefully picking your face up to look at him. His fingertips pushed your hair behind your ear, a smile coming up on his face. You couldn't look at him, your eyes slowly opening and staying down, terrified of what he looked like.

"Remember our first night together?" He asked, hands moving down your arms and to your hips, pressing himself flush against you. "The way you held me, begged me for more... Fuck, your pussy was so wet for me and you took me in so deep and felt so good."

You shook your head, Jinyoung ignoring you as he kissed your cheek. "I couldn't get your sinful moans out of my head all day. I just wanted to come back and feel you wrapped around me again."

A choked sob left you as Jinyoung pressed kisses to your cheek, moving down to your neck and nibbling on it. You whimpered at the sudden bite, flinching as Jinyoung chuckled against your skin. "I know you like me too," He pressed a kiss under your ear, nibbling on your earlobe. "I can tell by the way you look at me when I come over, how you clung to me when Youngjae wasn’t here, that’s why I decided that you wanted me too.”

You squeezed your eyes closed, hands gripping his shirt tighter in your fist. “That sweet smile on your face when you kissed me goodbye, the way you whined when I had to leave-"

“Jinyoung, I wasn’t in my right mind-"

“Princess,” Jinyoung chuckled, pulling back to look at you as his hands went back to hold your face gently. “Youngjae isn’t here anymore, you don’t have to worry about him.” You tried looking away, tried pulling away but he held your face, pressing his lips to yours.

You cried, hands attempting to push him back before Jinyoung roughly slammed you into the wall, ignoring the way your head bounced with the hit. “Stop trying to get away from me!” Jinyoung yelled, gripping you tightly, holding you up as your legs got wobbly.

Your head spun, seeing double of  Jinyoung as he dragged you to him, making you take a couple of steps before collapsing. “Stop doing this shit! Do you want to get punished?” Jinyoung yelled, attempting to pull you up but you couldn’t, black spots appearing in your vision. You collapsed, legs finally giving out.

You opened your eyes to see the ceiling of your room, you sat up, head spinning and making you lay down again. You groaned a bit, hand covering your eyes to try to steady yourself and to try to get your head to stop spinning.

"Awake?"

Jinyoung's voice made you cower, turning away only for his hand to pull your face gently to face him, his weight falling on the bed next to you. "Baby, I'm sorry. I don't want to hurt you, but you're just so stubborn."

"I don't want you," You whispered, wanting to pull away from Jinyoung but you felt so weak. "I want Youngjae, how could you do this?"

You yelped at the slap to your cheek, curling into a ball as your hands covered your face for protection. You were pinned to the bed, wrist pressed into it as Jinyoung straddled you, grunting when you tried to get away from him. “Stop! Fucking stop!” Jinyoung yelled, making your cry harder.

“I hate you!” You screamed, gasping as his hand wrapped around your throat, your free hand clawing at his arm to let you go.

“You hate me? After everything, I did for you?” Jinyoung watched your face turn red, the way you wheezed for air before he let your neck go, grabbing a hand full of your hair and dragging you off the bed. You yelped as you fell, trying to protect yourself as Jinyoung kept the tight hold on your hair.

“You just feel bad because of him, but just give it time and you’ll come around,” Jinyoung turned soft again, pulling your hair harder to make you kneel.

“I’m sorry!” You screamed, Jinyoung’s hand freezing as he was ready to hit you again. “I’m sorry! It’s the guilt! It’s happening too fast!”

You stumbled when Jinyoung’s hand left your hair, sniffling as he knelt in front of you and cooed softly, kissing your cheek. “I know, but it’ll go away. I’m never leaving you and you’re going to see how I’m so much better for you, okay?”

You forced your head to nod, crying as his lips danced on your cheek, skimming down to your neck. You let him drag you closer, arms caging around you as he gripped your body, making sure you didn’t leave. You whimpered when he flipped you both over, hovering over your body on the ground, his face lighting up. “I love your cute sounds,”

You stared up at the ceiling as Jinyoung laid on you, head on your chest, marks blooming on your body from the bites, the gripping, and the slaps he gave you. Your hair was a tangled mess from the pulls and your face was red and stained with dried tears. You stayed still, Jinyoung getting comfortable and groaning softly, smiling at your wince feeling sore. He gave your chest butterfly kisses, hands skimming across your body as he sighed.

“I can stay inside you forever... can I?” He asked, not expecting an answer, not like you were going to give him one anyway. Jinyoung moved his face down, kissing your tummy before grinning. “How many little ones do you think we’ll have? I want three, all of them to look as cute as you.”

Jinyoung looked up at you, seeing you staring off into space, body laying almost lifeless. You couldn’t cry anymore, all your tears used up and Jinyoung smiled a bit, scooting up to be face level with you. “I love you, baby. I’m always going to protect you, okay? I’m not going to let that fucking animal get near you.”

Jinyoung pulled out, giving you one last kiss before pulling on his clothes, going to the closet. You curled into yourself, eyes closed and block out the rustling he made as he walked around the room. He packed a few of your clothes, stuffing them in a bag before searching your desk and drawers.

Jinyoung sighed, frowning before searching the bed, finally finding your phone. He set it down on your bedside table, putting the ready bag down and walking over to you. He sat you up, gently pulling your clothes back on before smiling at you, cupping your cheek. "You're my girl, okay?"

You let Jinyoung take you out to his car, packing your bag in his trunk as he buckled you up. He looked at you, your eyes not once looking at him. Jinyoung grit his teeth, hand curling around your neck and making you gasp in fear.

"You scream, make one attempt to run away from me and I'm going to fucking kill you, got it?" Jinyoung warned, making you whimper, a small yes escaping your lips. He kissed you, letting go of your neck and making his way to the driver's side of the car.

Youngjae rushed into the arms of Bam, hugging his cousin tightly. "I can't thank you enough,"

Bam laughed a bit, rubbing Youngjae's back. "Don't thank me, you know I would do anything for you."

It's been two weeks since Bam heard your voice, his worry intensifying as he was unsure of what could've happened to you after Jinyoung came home. Bam was close to visiting you when he got a call from an unknown number, answering and sighing in relief at your voice.

"Are you okay? What happened?"

"I'm okay," You answered, looking up at Jinyoung who towered over you. You gulped silently, hand gripping the phone. "I went out of town for a bit, sorry. I have to go but I'm okay,"

You didn't have a chance to properly apologize, to even hear Bam's attempt to keep you on the line a bit longer. Jinyoung yanked the phone back, hanging up and tossing the phone aside.

Now, Bam stood with what hopefully was going to be the best thing to pick you up, Youngjae eagerly rushing inside his home.

It was cold, Youngjae shivering as he looked around. The kitchen smelled, bugs on the table as food sat there growing mold. There was a chair tossed aside, what looked like dried blood on the ground that was slightly smeared. Youngjae walked to the room to find most of your stuff missing, the bed a mess and the whole place in shambles.

Youngjae looked over at your phone, picking it up to find it barely with any battery. He plugged it into the charger, waiting slightly for it to start working properly before scrolling through your records. The last call and text you sent were over a week ago, with no activity happening other than a few social media notifications along with calls and texts from Bam.

Youngjae dialed Jinyoung's number, waiting as the line rang a few times before it answered. Jinyoung sighed, pushing his hair back as he pressed the phone to his ear, smiling. "Hello?"

"Jinyoung? It's me, Bam bailed me out, where's y/n?"

Jinyoung grinned widely, looking down at you and giving you a wink as you stared up at him, hands tied above your head to the headboard. "Wanna talk to her?" Jinyoung asked, pulling the phone away and offering it to you. "Guess what? Bam bailed Youngjae out, he's free and wants to see you,"

Your eyes widened, hands struggling against the rope. Youngjae listened to your whimpers, eyebrows furrowing in concern. "Baby, it's me-"

"Sorry, she doesn't want to talk to you," Jinyoung pressed the phone back to his ear, watching as you cried, trying to turn away. Jinyoung grinned at how broken you were, now terrified of Youngjae after all the abuse you received from Jinyoung for even thinking about him. "Right, princess? You don't want him?"

"No! I don't want him! Please, Jinyoung, I don't want him!" You cried, shaking and terrified of what could happen to you. Jinyoung hummed, the loud kisses he pressed on your neck reaching Youngjae as he stood silent, tears streaming down his face.

"If you get near my girl, I'm going to murder her just like I did to the others. I'm going to make you watch as I tear her apart, making sure you get blamed again."

Youngjae listened to your cries, the way you begged for forgiveness to Jinyoung and the way he slightly moaned, chuckling. "Now, if you'll excuse us, we're busy getting a family started."

Jinyoung pulled away from you, putting the phone down on the desk he had across the room, smashing the phone until it broke.

Youngjae looked over at Bam who stood at the entrance of the bedroom, teeth-gritting in anger. "I'm going to kill him,"

[courageiseverything]

I fell in love when I was 18 (I’m 24 now) to the most perfect guy in the world. It was perfect. He was tall, dark and handsome and in a band (bonus points!) We dated for a while and then we made it official after a couple of months. It was perfect. A total dream. The first few months I was in that so-called Honeymoon period. Happy and carefree and feeling like an entirely new girl. I was so in love.

But I was blind to all the red flags. So many red flags.

After being in a relationship for 1 year I moved out of my parent’s house and we moved in together. At least point we were both 19. This is when things started to turn sour.

Suddenly, I started to annoy him. Anything I said was wrong and he was always correcting me. I was always walking on eggshells, terrified to say something wrong in case he got annoyed at me.

Then one day, when everything seemed perfect like it was in that honeymoon period, we had a house party at our home. It was a typical young adult house party which consisted of a lot of alcohol and hints of illegal substances. It was such a fun party at the beginning. There was a mixture of my friends and his friends. But as the night went on he got angry at me for drinking (I didn’t touch the drugs). He said that he hated it when I was drunk because I turned into my mum (My mother is an alcoholic and we have a very strained/distant relationship) and he said that I turned into a “Slut” when I got drunk. That night only comes back in flashes, but I always remember standing on the landing. It was me and him and we were arguing and then he grabbed me by the throat and was threatening me. I don’t remember what he said but the next thing I knew I was on the floor and he had disappeared. My best friend had just come out of the spare room opposite where we were on the landing and apparently, she had seen it all. She was so scared and was about to phone the police. To avoid a scene, and to not make him even more angry I begged her not to. Being my best friend, she didn’t. That night would be the first of many.

He got worse. Mainly with the emotional abuse (the gaslighting, lies, belittling, name calling etc) but if I pushed him too far, he would lash out. I tried to leave him so many times, but it was hard. We did have good times and I was blinded by those good times. I loved him with all my heart. I tried to talk to him about how I was feeling but it would always end up in an argument and somehow, I would be the one apologising. It was an endless circle.

Another year passed. Now we were both 20 and he had not changed. One night it did get too much for me. It was New Year’s Eve. We had planned to spend it together. I got dressed up and I was so excited. He had been nice to me for a few days and I thought that he was realising that he loved me too. For once I believed that everything had changed. But he was late home from work (he worked at a cinema at the time). The hours went by and I hadn’t got a phone call, a message or anything from him to tell me he was going to be late home. Soon enough Midnight had been and gone and it was the New Year. In that moment I felt worthless. I believed that everything he said I was was true. I was worthless, boring, useless, annoying, dumb, clingy, a slut, a bitch and that no one wanted me around. I thought that even if the man that I loved didn’t want me around anymore then I shouldn’t be. So I found some very strong painkillers (he had been prescribed them from the hospital for a bad shoulder) and I don’t remember how many I swallowed but I DID wake up the next morning. He had found me in bed surrounded by the empty painkiller packets and he just glared at me. I just remember his intense glare. He called me an idiot. I just got up, had a shower and went to work.

Nothing changed after that. He was still the same. But a year later (aged 21) I summed up the courage and somehow, I left him.

The months went by and I was happy. I was dating someone else and I had new housemates and I felt better. But I was still terrified that he would come back into my life. He lived and worked in the same town (which is a very small town between Worcester and Stratford-Upon-Avon). I would see his mates when I went out and I was terrified that they believed all the lies that he probably told them about me. I was praying that he hadn’t shown them the photos that he had of me. He had previously threatened that he would show them to his mates if I annoyed him.

Still the months went by and I didn’t carry on dating the new guy as I went travelling for a few months.

When I got back from travelling, I was stupid. He got back into my life. He apologised and I believed him. Aged 22 I made the biggest mistake of my life. We got back together. Months went by and he hadn’t changed at all. He still hurt me emotionally and physically. But once again there were still the days that were perfect.

I didn’t think that it could get much worse from that New Years Eve…but it did. He had been out drinking with his mates and well he wanted to have sex. I didn’t. You can sort of see where this is going. I gave in to keep him happy. I gave my unwilling consent. He didn’t use protection. But I couldn’t stop him. The worst happened and a few weeks later I found out that I was pregnant. I told him and he flipped out. Apparently, it was all my fault. I didn’t know what I was going to do. I was terrified. He was 100% certain that he didn’t want it and it had to go. So, the night that I told him he threatened to push me down the stairs, he punched him in my stomach, he made me drink this weird drink that he googled would force a miscarriage. Obviously, it didn’t work. I managed to get to the doctors the next day (which he refused to come with me to) and then I got transferred to another place to have the abortion.

But I had to wait a couple of weeks and during that time I was stressing like crazy. I told no one. Not even my best friend (we had fallen out about a year earlier because of him). He was still saying that getting pregnant was all my fault and I felt like I honestly wanted to try and kill myself again because it would have been easier than having to go through it all.

The day came for the abortion and he was late picking me up. He had slept through all of his alarms and then told me that he had actually forgotten about the abortion. That day the pregnancy was terminated, and it has emotionally screwed me up.

I was 23 when my friend sends me a video. She had found his Tinder profile. He had loads of photos, his bio was perfectly written, and he had even connected his Spotify and Instagram. I showed him the video. He laughed. He said that he was trying to find me on there because he was convinced that I was cheating on him. Then he asked me if I wanted him to delete his profile. Something just clicked within me and I laughed and said, “No. You might need it.” With that I left him. After years and years of both emotional and physical abuse I was free.

Or so I thought.

I was dating again, and I lived by myself. I was coming to terms with that I had gone through and I was healing. I found this wonderful man and we decided to start a relationship. This was in October 2019. We made it “Facebook official” (I hate that haha!) but my ex found out via a mutual friend.

That night around 10pm I was woken up by my doorbell being constantly rung and a constant pounded at my door. Worried it was something urgent I ran downstairs (I left my phone upstairs which looking back was a huge mistake). It was him.

He was yelling at me. Calling me a whore. He pushed me and I fell backwards, and he got into my house. It was over in only about 5 minutes. I managed to force him back outside and I locked the door. He was still slamming his fists on my door when I ran upstairs and rang the police.

By the time the police turned up I had contacted my new boyfriend who drove straight over. My ex had disappeared, and I was a mess. Crying my eyes out and shaking uncontrollably.

I was at the police station until 3am making my statement. Going over everything that had happened from when I was 18 until that night.

The police arrested him straight after I made my statement.

They held him for 24 hours and questioned him. He is still released under investigation now (14/01/2020).

He lives less than a minutes’ drive away from my house.

I am terrified. I cannot answer my door unless someone phones me before to let me know that they are outside. I am slowly healing however and my current boyfriend (of 6 months now) is honestly the best person I know. I am getting better. I am healing. I can finally tell people my story. I am worried that he will do it again. To another girl who thinks she is in love with him. I just hope that his time being arrested will make him aware of what he has done.

People need to know about domestic violence. So many people (both men and women) go through it and no one is properly aware of it. I wanted to tell my story.