#Romeo x Romeo | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

aayakashii · 3 months ago

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How would they react if you received a confession from some random student?

Warning: yandere behavior, possessiveness, A LOT of manipulation etc etc you know the drill

Gasp! You received a confession! A human student fell for you and confessed that they have had a huge crush on you ever since they saw you in the admission ceremony. They even invited you on a date! You're so excited! But... wait... how will your ghouls react to that...?

Fuji Kaito

Absolutely distraught.

He knew you first! He was supposed to be your first option!

He doesn't try to hide how desperately jealous he is.

Bombards you with self-deprecating messages that do more harm than good because it gets super annoying after a while.

Stops eating properly and pays even less attention to class, which makes him take even more remedial classes.

Asks you for your help immediately. He's so insistent on you tutoring him, that you end up saying yes just so he'll stop whining.

He happily creates a schedule that eats up most of your time, so you can only see him every single day. After all, he has such a hard time learning! You gotta help him a lot 🥺 and no, Luca isn't an option.

It's almost like he planned this... but nah, that's Kaito we're talking about. He wouldn't do this, right

Right?

Lucas Errant

He doesn't really understand what he's feeling at the moment

At first, he has a positive reaction – after all, you're an amazing person! It's only obvious you'd have admirers.

But then he finds himself thinking more and more about it.

Is that person capable of protecting you? Do they possess any type of skill in combat so they can fend off anomalies? Will they pay attention to your needs? Will they hold your hand when they walk you home? Will they actually walk you home when it's late??????

He starts worrying more and more about your safety until he can't brush off his concerns any longer.

He will not approve of this relationship. He's pretty sure that person isn't capable of providing you with all you need and deserve.

At least not like he can. He knows he can protect you. So... stay with him instead, will you?

Ishibashi Tohma

Hm... Really. So you have a little admirer. How cute.

Tohma couldn't be more obvious with the disdain and contempt towards the person who confessed to you.

He always manages to spot you wherever you are, just to steal you away and drag you with him to do something 'important'.

"Why yes, you must come with me to pick up this order of tea leaves I have put on. Of course I can't do this alone, you have to learn the ropes of my work since you're my dear helper."

You better not be thinking about going on dates. Tohma will ruin all your plans by summoning you to his side as soon as you step out of your dorm.

He will control your time and your schedule until you forget entirely about that silly little person who tried to take you away from him.

And when you hear the first whispers of awful rumors about that person, Tohma already has his hands on you, permanently dragging you away from them and their terrible influence.

As if he wasn't the one that spurred the gossip in Frostheim from the very beginning.

Kamurai Jin

No. Just no.

Don't even think about it.

You just aren't allowed any distractions from your work for him. You're his servant.

Actually, sratch that. You're his, period.

The fact that someone would be so bold to try and take you away from him is unbelievable.

And you're CONSIDERING their confession? Are you insane? What do they have to offer you? How can you even begin to think of them as more important than him?

You're crazy if you think he'll just let you go and date some peasant.

Jin WILL bribe the person who confessed to you to make them go away in a heartbeat.

He's convinced that everyone will fold when they're faced with money. Everyone but himself, because he already has it all.

All except you, apparently.

Jin will offer them a life changing amount of money just to keep them away from you.

Don't worry, he'll be right there to see your little heartbroken face when you're walk back to him after all that.

He'll take his sweet time picking up your pieces and putting you back together.

Mido Alan

Alan stuffs his hands inside his pockets and scowls as soon as you let him know about someone confessing to you.

Oh, he despises that idea.

At first, he wonders whether it is because he might see you as a little sibling or... some other platonic thing... that activates his protective instinct.

But then he sees you crack a little smile as you talk about actually going on dates, and the jealousy he feels is simply undeniable.

Alan may be stoic, but he's very well acquainted with his ugliest feelings.

And this jealousy is simply the most hideous thing.

Do you know that person? Do you think they truly care about you? No. They don't. At least not like him.

Alan doesn't say all that openly, but he hangs around you for longer and longer, like a guard dog. Arms crossed and scowling, ready to pounce at anyone crazy enough to invade his space.

And obviously, you're in his space. You're the only one allowed in it. The only one he wants attached at his hip.

He eventually wins by wearing down his competition. After all, no one is brave enough to poke this lion with a short stick.

You're just not worth them risking their lives like that...

Don't worry, Alan is right by your side to pet your little head and comfort you.

He'll always be by your side.

Haizono Sho

Well, look at you. Being popular and shit. Gotta be feeling good, huh?

Kinda upsetting that the one who likes you is a loser that definitely doesn't deserve you.

Who said that.

Sho immediately bans you from eating at his food truck.

If you're gonna play these dumb games, then he has his own cards to play, too.

Even if you have zero intention of making him jealous and genuinely just want to go on a cute date, he WILL see it as a challenge.

He would rather get hit by a car than see you taking some random ass dude to HIS food truck to eat HIS food during a date. You're supposed to eat his food only if you go on dates with HIM.

He's gonna make you choose between him and your stupid new guy as soon as you tell him about the confession.

Are you going to abandon him? Are you really going to choose some dude instead of a friend? Someone who needs your support and ideas? Someone who ACTUALLY cares about you and didn't just randomly appear out of nowhere?

There is a correct answer for his ultimatum, and you better choose wisely.

Kurosagi Leo

???????????

Some people do have awful taste, huh.

Cannot fathom why someone would ever fall for you.

You're plain and boring, just a stupid NPC. That person must be just as boring as you, if not worse.

He makes sure to tell you all of this so you know your place.

But then you decide to give that person a chance and begin to ignore his messages.

How fucking dare you answer him only in the end of the day. You're supposed to be at his beck and call. You're supposed to be by his side whenever he needs you, like a good NPC.

He gets antsy. He's bouncing his legs, biting his nails and feeling his stomach flip flop inside him.

Okay he GETS it. You can stop trying to make him jealous now, god. You're so fucking desperate for his attention, aren't you?

Just... answer his fucking texts for once, okay?

Otherwise, he's gonna have to handle that rando that's been glued to your side on his own terms, and you don't want that.

Don't make him do something both of you will regret <3

Sagara Haru

Of course someone would fall for you! Who wouldn't?

You're so sweet, strong, patient, helpful, comforting, and you always do your best to spend time with him so he feels less overworked and...

Oh.

If you have a s/o, this means you won't be able to help him and spend time by his side, huh...

...

That is a problem.

Haru needs your company. He needs to know your whereabouts and what you're doing. You won't leave him hanging behind on his own, right?

He knows that you care for the animals and you wouldn't abandon them, but what about him?

Will you really leave him behind?

Haru is busy with everything in Jabberwock, so it's not like he can neglect his job to follow you around, but... Maybe he can keep an eye on you through his little gps.

Whenever he sees you out and about, he'll shoot you the cutest, most heartwrenching message about how he the animals miss you.

It never fails.

After all, you're so sweet. He knows exactly how to tug on your heartstrings until you run back to him.

Otonashi Towa

No.

You're not going to date anyone.

Towa loves romance, yes, but only if it doesn't involve you with someone else.

You're his Dandelion! You're his. You're not going to leave him, ever. Why are you even thinking about someone else? You're so silly, Dandelion.

Towa doesn't try to be subtle. He will threaten the other person and kick them out of your life immediately.

If he needs to strike them down with a dozen lightnings, he will do it. Do not doubt him whatsoever.

Don't be sad, though. If you wanted to go on dates, you should have just said so!

He will take you to every pretty place he finds in Darkwick – cave systems, flower fields, dense woods, and anywhere else you feel like going!

As long as you go with him.

He's not letting anyone steal you from him, ever.

Shiranami Ren

Whines and whines and whines and whines.

He becomes actually insufferable.

"You're actually going to become one of those disgusting people that flaunt their relationship everywhere, aren't you?"

"Ren, I don't even know if I'll accept the date..."

You don't get it, though. He thought you were different. He thought you weren't like everyone else! But you got A CONFESSION?

EUGH

That's like the most normie thing in the whole world...

And who's gonna watch B-horror movies with him now? Who's gonna play his mobile games and do his dailies with him?

You're gonna be just like those assholes that forget their friends when they start dating, aren't you?

He knew you were just too good to be true. That's on him, though. He was stupid to believe you would stick around.

Wait, no, please don't go. Please don't get mad at him.

He just doesn't want you to spend your time with someone else... but also, he would rather die than straight up tell you that.

Maybe read between the lines of all his whiny ass messages and forget about that other guy, how about it? It's almost time for a raid anyway.

Hoshibami Taiga

Oh honey. I don't know why you think you can even leave Taiga's side for long enough to receive a whole confession.

Although, if someone is crazy enough to mess with TAIGA'S little kitten, they are very brave.

Taiga may let them shoot their shot just to amuse himself and see how the dumbass would try to woo you.

But if they got even a little bit closer, his gun would fire immediately.

It would either end in someone getting terribly traumatized and/or wounded, or in death.

Getting away is just not an option if you're Taiga's.

You're always in his reach. No reason to think about silly little scenarios like "receiving a confession".

Pffft. Don't be stupid.

Romeo Lucci

Are you fucking insane? Shut up and go fetch him a face mask.

Of course he's not letting you date anyone. You're his assistant. You dont have time for shit like that.

What do you mean you don't need permission? Oh that's RICH.

Romeo isn't very patient about this whole situation.

If you try to argue too much, he just pushes you into his secret room and then inside one of his cages until you understand your place.

He's never letting you just walk away and spend your precious time with some broke asshole. Your time is HIS. YOU are his. Don't get any funny ideas.

It doesn't matter if you get mad at him. He will keep you locked up until you're sweet and compliant again. Just the way you're supposed to be.

And if that doesn't work quickly enough, he can always order his men around and beat whoever tries to get too close to you.

No one fucking steals from Romeo. Much less what is the most valuable to him.

Shinjo Ritsu

Ritsu is incredibly confused once you bring up going on dates with someone who confessed to you.

Did you forget you are legally bound to him by the terms of your partnership?

You have no time to go on dates. During working hours you have to be fulfilling your part of the contract right beside him.

It's not his fault that there's so much work to do that you end up needing to work overtime...

Yes, he IS very against unpaid overtime, obviously.

But it's not like you're not getting anything from this! You'll have the best lawyer in Japan always ready to help you.

But you'll only have this rare privilege if you stop being foolish and forget about dating that silly student.

You have to focus. Focus on your partnership.

Focus on him.

Focus on Ritsu alone.

Kusanagi Haku

Oh, so you hesitate to accept his invitations, but you're quick to go on a date with some other random person?

Ouch. Yikes.

Immediately lets you know that the person a very nasty spirit posessing them.

But you'd be a bit silly if you believed what he says because Haku is going to blatantly lie.

If that's what it takes to keep you far from anyone trying to get their hands on you, you BET Haku will try to manipulate you.

"Exorcising them? Nah, can't do it. Too strong of a spirit, you know? Better just keep your distance ;)"

He's honestly shameless. Doesn't stop following you around for a second and always manages to barge into every conversation you have with a general student, even if it's not even the person who confessed to you.

Can't be too careful, you know? After all, you're so sweet, what if more people fall for you?

He hates competition, so it's best to just cull everyone that gets too close to you. Makes things a lot easier for him.

And you know, since you're so eager to go out on a date with someone, why don't you choose him for once?

It's not like he'll ever let you have another option besides himself after all.

Kagami Subaru

Oh, he's guilt tripping you right away. All those years of acting are SHOWING.

Have you watched a kabuki play? There are some SAD ones, you know.

And you best believe Subaru is going to look like you've just ripped his heart apart as soon as you tell him about the confession.

You're the only actual friend he has besides Lyca... Do you really want to leave him in the dust like that? All for some dates? He really thought he mattered more to you than that...

It doesn't matter how much you try to reassure him you won't abandon him, he'll only stop being gloomy once you tell him word for word that you are not going to date anyone else.

And as soon as you do that, it'll be like clouds letting the sun shine again. He'll smile and cling to you like a magnet, gently feeding you the softest daifuku.

All while subtly touching you and checking your memories for the face of whoever dared to confess to you.

His good relationship with Darkwick will definitely come in handy to keep them far away from you.

Kotodama Zenji

He is having such a hard time with this!

He is more than happy to know you're appreciated! You are such a wonderful person! His lovely little human!

However... he can't help but feel awful about it all too. What if you stop talking to him?

After all, besides you, only Haku and Subaru see him. He knows you wouldn't be able to talk to him if you had someone unrelated right next to you. Much less someone who isn't even a ghoul!

His late night visits become more frequent. He stands at the foot of your bed, looking at your sleeping figure, very conflicted.

Is he allowed to be a little selfish, even though he's a spirit?

Soon enough, you stop hearing from the person who confessed to you. It's not that big of a deal, but you ARE curious as to why they up and vanished.

You'll never know how they suddenly got prophetic nightmares about how they shouldn't date you, complete with some bloodied messages on their wall...

Mizuki Rui

He's absolutely distraught. Not only he cannot touch you, now he must be tortured by the sight of you touching someone else?

Even worse: someone else touching YOU?

His days just keep on getting worse.

Will you still please visit him at his bar then? You won't completely starve him of your company, right?

Maybe he should just touch this crush of yours.

Haha, just kidding! He wouldn't do that.

He will, however, hide in the darkness for as much as he needs until he's sure that he approves of that date of yours.

Spoiler: he will never approve of anyone that isn't him.

Rui will bombard you with messages until you understand that his jealousy will never subside unless you reject that person once and for all.

And maybe, for some peace, you should. Because Rui is nothing if not insistent.

From the corner of your eyes, you see the way he lurks in the shadows of every place you visit.

Give yourself a break and mend the shinigami's heart for once, please?

Edward Hart

Oh dear. Who's going to take care of him now 😔

You're heartless, you know. Wasting your finite human time with a pointless date, instead of helping an old man when he needs you... You wound him so...

Ed is the king of emotional blackmail. He will moan and groan on and on about how weak and alone he is (even though Rui does everything for him) and how cruel you are for not spending your days in his room, tending to all his whims.

It doesn't matter if Rui can help him with this malware-riddled website. He wants YOU to help him. His plain but pretty little thing.

Didn't you learn you must respect your elders, love?

Then go lay down on his bed with him, thread your fingers through his hair, and shush him when he's tired and in pain. You're his walking balm, dear.

Don't leave him hanging. That would be so rude of you.

Lyca Colt

No no no no no no no no

NO!!!!!!!!!

You're not gonna date anyone!! You're not going to hang out with anyone else, ever!!!

Lyca is another one that's not subtle.

He'll just cling to you 24/7 and growl at the person who confessed to you until they run away.

He'll NEVER let you spend a single minute longer with some boring human. You have to spend time with him and teach him more about... well, about everything! You're his caretaker, aren't you?

The fact that he used to protest every time someone called you his babysitter does not matter anymore!

He is going to stay by your side and chase everyone away. How dare they try to do those disgusting things with HIS human!

It's overwhelming how clingy and possessive he gets – even more than before.

Lyca won't let you breathe peacefully. He'll be clinging to your arm, your hand, your neck, your shoulders, anywhere he can grab just to show everyone that you belong WITH HIM ALONE.

It's best if you just accept it. They do say it's hard to teach older dogs how to behave, don't they...

Isami Yuri

He didn't expect much from you, but to waste your time with meaningless endeavors... Disappointing!

You better never sleep then! Because he's not letting you off the hook! You're still spending more than half of your day in Mortkranken, under HIS watchful eye!

And if he sees you texting some random guy, well. He'll just have to snatch your phone away from you.

How dare you think of anything else besides your apprenticeship under him?! Him, Isami Yuri, the best doctor in Darkwick. You're so ungrateful!

Yuri will wring you dry. He's so merciless, it'll be honestly best if you just focus on him...

He wants your full attention and focus. If you go on... *retches* dates... your mind won't be into your work.

Stop this insanity, worm, and pay attention to him. Pay attention and praise him. Don't go praising some random, worthless person. They don't deserve it.

But Yuri does. Yuri deserves your praise.

Praise him.

Please.

And forget all about anyone else.

Kirisaki Jiro

Hm... will going on dates affect your health positively? Your mental health, maybe? Huh.

Jiro doesn't really understand what he feels about you spending time with someone else.

What he does know is that he likes having you around, as much as he can process how "liking something" feels.

He likes how you take care of him after he showers and how you worry about him, no matter how many times he tells you it's pointless. He likes your reactions and how you try to be helpful. He likes you.

If you spending time with someone else means he won't have you doing all this anymore, or at least not as much as he'd like, he can't say he approves it.

Jiro straight up tells you he doesn't want you to go on dates and why.

It'd be wise to listen to him. Otherwise, he'll try to get his fix of you by following you around.

Not sure you'd want the tallest and strongest man in Darkwick following you around like a shadow... but you do you.

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transmothofaman · 2 months ago

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“I really like that one (romantic) movie from 2011 that James McAvoy was in where he mostly just pines for his red-themed counterpart throughout the movie while said love interest is destined to be on the other side of the growing conflict going on that is bigger than the two of them” my guy WHICH ONE?!

#does this make sense?#I forgot these came out in the same year and I��ve connected the dots #if there were any ever dots to connect I sure have connected them #anyways they both slap #gnomeo and juliet #x men first class #x men films #gnomeo #charles xavier #professor x #james mcavoy #cherik #romeo and juliet

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somethingkindazainy · 2 months ago

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♡ Pairing: Minho x Jisung ♤ Genre: Mafia AU, Romeo x Romeo ♢ Chapter Warnings: foul language throughout, mxm sexual intercourse (suggestive language) ♧ MINORS DNI

♤ ♡ TASTE Synopsis & Chapter List ♢ ♧

<< Chapter 2 - The DLC ♤ ♡ ♢ ♧ Chapter 4 - The Wolf & His Pack >>

Chapter 3: Broken Compass

♤ ♡ ♢ ♧

Minho steps into his apartment and clicks on a lamp on the side table.

“You live here?” Jisung gawks at him. “But it’s so–”

“Careful.”

“–homey.” Jisung finishes and Minho can’t help but smile at him.

His apartment has a spacious living area, with large panoramic windows, overlooking a stone walled balcony bordered with various shrubs, herbs and flowers, and expensive and expansive views south over the Han River. In the centre of the room, there’s a black leather corner sofa facing a flat screen television on the wall and numerous bookshelves. The kitchen, all white granite and units, takes up one corner of the open planned space, separated by a breakfast bar and two chrome and black leather stools. His bedroom door, off to the side.

Minho slips off his Gucci shoes and sets them in the shoe rack. Hangs his keys on the hook behind the door. He’s about to take off his jacket when he remembers he’s wearing his knife belt on his shoulder and thinks better of it.

Jisung is crouching at his side, unlacing his boots, before he stands and steps out of them. Without them he’s probably an inch shorter than Minho and—

“What on earth are those?”

Jisung looks down to where Minho is pointing. He’s wearing bright pink socks adorned with lime green love hearts. He wiggles his toes. Smiles up at Minho. “Don’t you like them?”

Minho tries to reconcile this Jisung against the one he’d met at the club; the sexy Jisung. Who became the Jisung who fights as well as he does, who in turn wears ridiculous socks inside combat boots.

“The views from up here are insane,” Jisung walks over to the windows. He looks small and beautiful, backlit by the twinkling city skyline beyond. Minho turns on some lamps, bathing the room in warm yellow light and straightens some of the mint-coloured cushions on the couch. Lifts the legal papers he’d been reading from the glass coffee table and secretes them in a sideboard drawer. Absently touches the leaves of his bamboo plant, and reminds himself to water her tomorrow.

“You keep flowers?” Jisung says, frowning at the large container with pale pink cosmos. He arches an eyebrow at Minho. “You don’t seem like the type.”

“Judgemental,” Minho says, and he’s smirking, partly at his own wit.

“Touche,” he starts looking around the living space, head tilting back at the high ceiling, then slowly down again, settling on the bamboo at Minho’s side, “and you have house plants,” he’s moving now, head tilted as he reads the titles of the books on his bookshelves, his slender fingers caressing their spines, “you read,” he’s at the kitchen now, fingers walking over his cookbooks, “and you like to cook?”

“Stop compiling your list,” Minho pushes his hands into his pockets. He’s not used to this. Not used to being assessed in this way. Any previous acquaintances he’s had over before were in the bedroom and gone the next morning. They didn’t have time to analyse. Minho preferred it that way.

And Jisung smiles. It’s not the smile Minho has become familiar with, the flirtatious half-smile, it’s an unguarded gummy-grin and it is like sunshine. If Minho thought his smile was pretty before, then this, this is fucking gorgeous. He’s pretty impressed with himself that he hasn’t crossed the room to seize hold of that forbidden waist. You brought him here so he could get cleaned up. Nothing more. You missed that chance.

“And… you have a cat?” Jisung lifts a box of kibble, brandishing it as evidence.

“Soonie,” Minho says automatically.

“Soonie-Soonie-Soonie,” Jisung coos.

“You’re wasting your breath he doesn’t come when—” there’s a tinkle of a bell, small curious cat chirps and Soonie trots out of the bedroom. He merely glances at Minho like, ‘oh, you’re here,’ before trotting over to Jisung, tail in the air.

The traitorous little shit!

“Oh hi!” Jisung croons as he crouches down into an impossibly small shape, his knees level with his shoulders, his arse almost touching the tiled floor. Minho resolves to not think about Jisungs flexibility. In fact, he is not thinking about it at all. Is absolutely not thinking about it. And he’s definitely not tilting his head at how curvaceous Jisung’s arse is either. He is, though, wondering why someone so fucking pretty, wears ridiculous socks inside combat boots. Although the heels of them are very close to that arse–

No, no. We are not thinking about that, Minho straightens up.

Jisung holds out his right hand and allows Soonie to sniff it. “I know, I’m all dirty aren’t I?” Soonie rubs his chin against Jisung’s fingers. Purrs. Like, actually fucking purrs, for someone who is essentially a stranger. The little cat whore. In the thirteen years Minho has had him, he has never, not once, shown a modicum of interest in another human. It’s the one thing they have always had in common. Or so he thought.

Minho makes use of Jisung’s distraction and heads to his bedroom. He removes his jacket and tosses it onto the white bedspread, flicks on a bedside lamp, puts his phone on charge whilst he unbuckles his holster and drops it into the bedside draw. Retrieves the bloodied brass knuckles and drops them in there too.

In the adjoining bathroom, he washes his bloodied hands and face. Grabs an armful of soft white towels from the linen cupboard and sets them on a stool beside the shower.

Back in the bedroom he pulls a black t-shirt and a pair of grey sweatpants from his wardrobe and sets them on the bed. He drops a pair of boring white ankle socks on top of them. Considers offering up a pair of boxers, but thinks that could be viewed as a bit weird, or is it weirder not offering underwear? Isn’t it weirder to expect him to freeball in a pair of your sweats?

He is still debating when Jisung appears at the bedroom door, Soonie curled in his arms, tail swishing lazily. “You okay?”

Minho blinks. Whether he’s blinking at Soonie contentedly letting a stranger hold him, or at how lovely he looks in Jisung’s arms, or how lovely Jisung looks holding him, he’s not entirely sure. But there’s something… like a déjà vu level of familiarity. He blinks several times. “Uh, yeah. I think these might be a bit big for you, but they’re clean,” he gestures to the small pile of clothes at the foot of his bed. “There’s fresh towels in the bathroom too, if you want to take a shower?”

Jisung smiles warmly, allowing Soonie to jump from his arms onto the bed. Strokes the length of him, from the top of his head to the tip of his tail, Soonie arching into his touch. “Thank you,” Jisung says as he lifts the clothes.

“No problem,” Minho says, returning to his wardrobe to find a change for himself, or to shield himself from Jisung. He unclasps his cufflinks, sets them in his jewellery tray. He hears Jisung step into the bathroom and lock the door. Until this moment, Minho didn’t know his bathroom door had a lock. He’d never had cause to lock it himself and certainly never had anyone here long enough, let alone use his shower…

He’s still fumbling with the buttons of his shirt when he hears the shower running and tries very hard not to think about Jisung in there. Naked. The water trailing over is skin, down his back, that waist, that arse–

Giving up on the remaining buttons, he wrenches his blood-spattered shirt over his head, drops it into the wash basket and rounds on Soonie, “Explain yourself.”

Soonie sits on the bed, looks up at him and tilts his head, like, ‘What?’

“You know what I’m on about,” Minho hisses at him.

Soonie chirps in a manner that suggests that he doesn’t know and his actions have been nothing but ordinary. He licks his paw as though he’s making a point.

“You’re a traitor,” Minho says but scritches him under the chin because he’s too fucking cute, even when he’s behaving like a twat.

Minho changes quickly into a pair of navy sweats and a black tank top. Shoves his jacket and trousers into a separate basket he uses for dry cleaning. Gently squeezes Soonie’s ear as he passes.

Barefooted, he pads out into the kitchen, inspects his cupboards and the fridge. Realises that he’s woefully understocked, decides that omelettes will have to do.

He’s dishing up when Jisung reappears, looking completely alien and incredibly attractive. Minho’s t-shirt looks oversized on him, the baggy sleeves reaching past his elbows. All the makeup he’d been wearing is gone, revealing a beauty mark on his left cheek and softening the roundness of his dark brown eyes. His damp hair is curling at the ends. If it wasn’t for the cut lip, Minho would think this was an entirely different person. Mentally, he ticks off the Jisungs he’s met this evening. Sexy Jisung. Fighter Jisung. Effortlessly attractive Jisung.

Look at you, making a list. Seungmo would be proud.

Jisung’s holding a bundle of clothes in his arms, “Do you have a shopping or trash bag I can put these in?”

Minho sets the frying pan down, sucks some sauce off his thumb, “Give them here,” he takes them from Jisung, stoops down, shoves the jeans, tank top, boxers (tries not to think about Jisung going commando) and offensive socks into the washer-dryer, and inspects the shirt. Pure silk. He takes it to the sink, drops it in the basin, and starts running cold water. Returns to the machine, adds detergent, kicks the door closed, sets the cycle. Adds some detergent to the basin, turns off the water. Lifts the frying pan and finishes plating his own dinner, “Why are you looking at me like that?”

Jisung is sitting at the breakfast counter, chin resting on one palm, his smile very warm, or, at least, making Minho’s ears very warm. “You’re very domesticated.”

Minho scoffs, pushes a plate towards him, “Eat up before it gets cold.”

He pours them each a glass of grape soda, and they eat in silence, forks clinking against plates. Minho, leaning on the counter across from Jisung, can't help glancing at him every so often. He looks like a squirrel eating sunflower seeds. It’s really cute.

Cute. Where did the hot and sexy Jisung from only a few hours ago disappear to? When had he ever considered anyone or anything, other than his cat, as cute?

How many Jisungs is that, now?

“That was amazing,” Jisung says, pushing his plate away.

“It’s only an omelette,” Minho says, but he’s pleased.

“It was a brilliant omelette. I could eat that everyday. And the ham and cheese in it,” he kisses his fingers. “Perfect.”

“You want more?”

“No, thank you, I’m full,” he pulls his phone out of his pocket. The screen is spider webbed with cracks, but the screen is on and it looks, in part, functional. Minho can’t believe it’s already nearly three in the morning.

“Do you need to call someone?” Minho asks, as he pushes his own plate to the side, “Let them know you're okay or…”

Jisung laughs heartlessly, “They wouldn’t notice if I went missing for a week, let alone one night,” he pushes his phone back into his pocket. “Thanks for the offer though.”

Minho watches him for a moment. He wants to ask a question. But he doesn’t ask questions… he doesn’t have interest in people outside of his very small, very private circle… and yet, “Why wouldn’t they notice?”

“I’m probably being unfair,” he shrugs with one shoulder, “my brothers would probably notice that I wasn’t about, but my mum,” he shakes his head, “I don’t think she’d miss me unless my absence was an inconvenience to her.”

“Same, with my old man,” Minho says absently. “As for my brothers, they’d probably be glad to see the back of me for a week.”

Jisung grins that wide, dorky, gummy-grin and the room brightens tenfold. “How many brothers do you have?”

Minho thinks about this. The honest answer is none, his father would say Minho is one of twelve. The real answer is, “Three. That I count.”

“Huh, same,” Jisung giggles. “Older?”

“No, I’m the eldest.”

“Ah, that explains it.” Jisung leans back on the bar stool, arms folded across his chest, the action causes the collar of the t-shirt to drop a little lower and Minho can see the hollow at the base of his throat. The suggestion of a collar bone.

“Explains what?”

“Why you are so domesticated.”

Minho chuckles, “Based on that assessment, I’m guessing you’re a middle child.”

“Fuck you.”

“Am I wrong?” he arches an eyebrow.

“No. But still, fuck you.”

Grinning smugly, Minho stacks the plates and brings them to the sink. Sets them down and lifts the shirt from the cold water, “I think this might be ruin—” his sentence is cut off by a pair of arms encircling his waist and the warmth of lips pressing against the back of his neck.

His breath hitches, because it feels… familiar. He wants to sink into it. Sigh against it. Savour it.

Why does this feel so good? Is it because Minho has been resisting for so long? How long has it been? An hour? Two? A fucking lifetime.

“It’s okay if you don’t want to,” Jisung says, lips still hovering over his skin, arms still wrapped around his waist, the tips of his fingers stroking the fabric of his tank top. “Just tell me to stop.”

Are you really going to ask him to stop when you’ve waited so long?

Minho lets the shirt fall back into the basin. Twisting round in his arms, Minho pushes his fingers through Jisung’s damp curls. His hair is exactly how Minho had fantasised it would feel: soft and lush and thick. And his eyes, fuck. There’s a whole world in those large and beautiful brown eyes of his.

He tips his head, meeting Jisung’s lips with his own, feather soft as to not aggravate Jisung’s cut lip, and Jisung is kissing him back, soft and long and slow and lazily. It’s like a walk in the park on a sunny Sunday afternoon, and polar opposite to how he’d imagined this would be all those nights he’d laid in his bed imagining it. A month of nights…

“Hmm,” Jisung smiles against his lips. “You’re restraining yourself.”

Unbidden, Minho barks out a laugh because it’s too fucking true. Jisung’s fully grinning now, that silly, dorky grin. Minho’s new favourite.

“You’re hurt,” Minho let’s his thumb trace the outline of Jisung’s bottom lip.

“I meant what I said before,” Jisung’s breath ghosts Minho’s lips. “Anything,” he says and the word travels down and down and Jisung’s hands are chasing the word, seizing hold of Minho’s hips, pulling his pelvis to his. Grinning again when he can very obviously feel Minho’s desire, and Minho’s smiling back, because he can feel Jisung’s. “Anything.” Jisung says again and his lips are on Minho’s and it’s deep and uncontrolled, their lips sliding and scraping against the other and it’s messy and it’s different from Minho’s fantasies, because this is everything and so much more than his mind could conjure. Jisung pulls against Minho’s push until he is pinned against the breakfast bar, caged between Minho’s arms, and his hands are in Minho’s hair and on his back and his hips and seemingly everywhere and he’s kissing that magical spot below Minho’s ear.

“I’ll… break you,” Minho hisses, gripping the counter as Jisung scrapes his teeth in the same spot.

“I’m stronger than I look,” Minho can feel the smile against his neck. “I fought six guys at once.”

New turn-on: unlocked.

“Yeah you fucking did,” Minho says, grabbing a fistful of Jisung’s hair, pulling his head back, exposing his neck. He can feel Jisung's pulse hammering against his tongue and Jisung groans, stretching his head back further, allowing Minho to taste him and inhale that earthy scent of his. Minho’s hands slide down his ribs, to his waist, that forbidden, grabbable waist and it fits perfectly between his thumb and fingers. Minho pulls back to admire his hands gripping it, his thumbs and fingers caressing. He momentarily considers that it’s Jisung who will do the breaking. Because this, all this, is fucking killing him.

“Take me to bed,” Jisung says and his voice is like velvet, smooth forwards and rough back and Minho slides his hands down over the curve of Jisung's arse to the back of his thighs, pulls him up into his arms. He’s not exactly light, but he’s far from heavy and when Jisung wraps his legs around his waist, grips his shoulders, it only makes it easier. They kiss as Minho carries him to the bedroom, lays him back on the bed, hands sliding over fabric, then under it and Jisung’s skin is smooth, and hard, and soft and warm and Jisung is arching up and into him, making pretty little whimpers—then his eyes fly open and he seizes hold of Minho’s wandering hands. “Wait!”

Minho stops immediately, “I’m sorry, are you— what’s wrong?”

“Where’s Soonie?”

“Soonie?” Minho repeats, the blood supply needed to comprehend what Jisung is saying is directed decisively elsewhere. “My cat?”

“Yes,” and Jisung’s cheeks are reddening. “I can’t — I can’t do this with Soonie in here.”

Minho can’t control the smile that leaps to his face. It’s the cutest thing he’s ever fucking heard.

Sexy. Fighter. Attractive. Cute. Adorable.

Chuckling, he rolls off the bed, “Soonie?”

A gravelly purr emanates from the wash basket, and Soonie blinks at him in a manner that says, ‘Who dares disturb my slumber.’

Minho pets him, scoops him up and carries him out to the living room. Sets him on a blanket on the couch, pats his head, “Sorry pal.”

The responding cat chirp sounds a lot like, ‘fuck you’, which is perfectly justifiable.

Still chuckling quietly to himself at the absurdity, Minho returns to the bedroom, closes the bedroom door, turns and hesitates. Jisung smiles warmly up at him from the centre of his bed. His cheeks are flushed, his lips red and swollen, his golden skin seeming to glow against the white of the sheets. He looks so small and so fucking beautiful. Minho crawls up onto the bed to lie beside him and Jisung rolls onto his side to face him and for a minute, Minho allows himself to just look.

Look at how, his curls fall lazily and elegantly over his brow and into his eyes. How his brown eyes appear almost black and still emanate light. How his soft round cheeks blend into the sharp edge of his jawline. How his narrow top lip is all angles, whilst his bottom lip is a curvaceous invitation. Jisung’s face is all juxtapositions. None of it should work together, but it’s truly beautiful.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Jisung whines, bringing his hand up to cover his face.

Minho smiles, gently pulls his hand away, “You said, ‘anything’.”

Something in Jisung’s eyes soften and his hand slots around the nape of Minho’s neck and he kisses him.

Minho allows himself to be kissed whatever way Jisung wants it, which just so happens to be how Minho wants it. It’s a sunset kiss. A twilight kiss. Deep and longing. Their hands move slowly, pressing and pulling. After seconds or a lifetime, but too short, Jisung pulls away, tugging at the hem of Minho’s tank top, pulling it over his head. Minho makes light work of Jisung’s own t-shirt, and Jisung has a fucking chest tattoo on the right side, and his pecs and abdominal muscles look like you could skip stones off them and… he’s bruised. There are noticeable red and blue marks, the size of fists down the left side of his chest and Minho’s breath catches. God help me if I ever see those men again…

“I’m okay,” Jisung says gently, taking Minho’s hand and holding his palm against his bruised ribs. Minho can feel the heat of his skin, the texture of his ribs moving beneath his hand. “Really, it doesn’t hurt all that much.”

Still holding his hand against him, Jisung kisses him into the pillows and Minho pulls him down with him. He traces the red and black tattoo with his fingers, then with his tongue, Jisung humming appreciation at his ear before biting gently on his earlobe. “More,” he says, as his hand slides beneath the waistband of Minho’s sweatpants and the elastic of his boxers, fingers digging into the flesh of Minho’s arse. Minho returns the action in kind, smiling against Jisung’s groaning mouth.

Now Jisung is sliding Minho’s joggers and boxers down, tossing them off to the side, then his sweats and the socks and they are both naked, their legs scissoring, hands and feet caressing. Minho lets his hands trace Jisung’s outlines, carving the shape of him into his mind, memorising how the curve of Jisung's waist fits under his palm. How his dark hair falls forward over his face. How his full bottom lip curls and his top lip dips.

Jisung’s hand slides down over Minho’s abdominal muscles and lower—

“Fuck,” Minho hisses through his teeth, as Jisung’s fingers encircle him. Every muscle and tendon in his body tightens, his fingers pressing into Jisung’s waist. Jisung hums, his lips are at that spot beneath Minho’s ear, melting his insides.

He reaches for Jisung, but Jisung pins his hand against the bed, their fingers interlacing. “Not yet,” Jisung’s voice has a dangerous edge. And again Minho’s mind reels: Sexy. Fighter. Attractive. Adorable. Dangerous Jisung. “I said I would make you beg.”

Yes. Yes you did. And…fuck… I might. Minho fights to stay here. He shuts his eyes, gripping Jisung’s hand and fisting at the sheets with the other.

“Look at me,” Jisung says and Minho obeys and it’s a big fucking mistake. Jisung is a pleasurable assault on his senses. His lip curled in a smirk. His dark eyes sparkling. His hand doing…fucking incredible things and if he doesn’t stop it now, he’s going to have to beg. With a roll of his hips, he flips Jisung onto his back, pinning Jisung’s legs down with his own, capturing Jisung’s wrists with one hand. Jisung’s eyes are round and wide at the sudden reversal, but he’s smiling, his pink tongue at the corner of his lips. Minho smiles darkly down at him, makes use of his advantage (and his ambidexterity), his free hand sliding down… Jisung arches off the bed, a red lip caught between white teeth. Slowly, Minho releases his wrists, kisses him into the mattress whilst Jisung’s fingers dig into his shoulders.

Slowly, Minho backs off from him, retreating towards the foot of the bed, lips and tongue tracing his jawline, his neck, his chest, his belly button and Jisung’s fingers are in his hair, watching Minho who is retreating further and lower, tracing kisses inside his thighs. And he looks up the length of Jisung, their eyes locking, tongue and lips teasing–

“Those fucking eyelashes,” Jisung swears throwing his head back when Minho takes him in. Jisung groans softly, chewing his lip as he watches Minho. His thighs trembling under Minho’s fingers whilst his own knot in Minho’s hair and the litany of curses that spill from Jisung are enough to consecrate the room. “Holy mother of–” Jisung’s fingers are pulling Minho’s hair, and he’s sitting up and bringing Minho’s lips back to his, in a crushing kiss that must be painful on his cut lip, “Irino, I need you.”

Irino. Something about the way Jisung contracts his name makes Minho momentarily giddy. I need you. Drives him wild. “Are you begging?”

“Stop being a fucking tease!”

Minho arches an eyebrow at him. Biting Jisung’s lip and dragging it through his teeth. And the sound that escapes Jisung’s mouth is particularly pleasurable.

“Irino, please,” Jisung says, pressing his lips against Minho’s. Kissing him deeply, hungrily, desperately.

Are you really going to prolong your own suffering? Blindly, Minho fumbles in the bedside drawer amongst his leather holster. He pulls back from Jisung to tear the foil open with his teeth. Jisung, huffing impatiently, snatches it from him, rolls the condom on him, and even that action makes Minho moan.

Jisung lies back against the pillows, lifting his knees as Minho lines himself up and slowly pushes into him and he’s hissing through his teeth because Jisung is so fucking perfect and arching off the bed, groaning pleasurably and again he’s fighting to maintain himself. Resist a little longer. Give Jisung time to adjust. Inch by blissful inch.

Slowly, they move together, their bodies seemingly, instinctively knowing what the other wants, what the other needs, as though they had done this before in a past life, on another timeline, in an alternate universe. Soon, Jisung digs his fingers into Minho’s hips, encouraging him to move, pulling him deeper and he looks so fucking pretty beneath him, lips parted, his eyes burning darkly up at him, sweat beading around his temples, “You’re not–going to–break me,” Jisung pants, and for a fleeting moment, Minho believes him, believes that he’s unbreakable and his entire body rolls at the words and Jisung gasps, fingers knotting in Minho’s hair, a sound like a growl escapes his own lips when Jisung pushes against his thrust. “Oh! Uh-huh–yes, like that–just–like–that–”

Oh he can fucking take it. Minho stretches forward, kisses him with teeth, swallowing Jisung’s groans which are growing louder with every thrust. Minho kisses over his jawline, down his neck, to his collarbone and back up to his ear, “Let me hear you.”

“Irino.”

Fuck, just the sound of his name is undoing him. Driving him.

“Irino,” Jisung groans and he’s calling to some part deep inside Minho. Some part of his soul. Calling to another Minho in a past life, on a different timeline, in that alternate universe. “My Irino.”

My. “Ji—fuck—” Minho grinds out as Jisung wraps his legs around Minho’s thighs, pulling him closer, urging him deeper, moving him faster, his hands slipping over Minho’s back, fingers digging, breath quickening.

“Irino!”

“Ji— I’m going to—”

“Look at me,” Jisung cups Minho’s head in his hands, fingers digging into his hair, arching up, his mouth parting and eyes watering and he looks like fucking heaven and Minho is trembling and groaning back and seeing stars but they aren’t stars, it’s the whole fucking universe, past, different and fucking alternate in Jisung’s eyes before they coalesce and become a single point of blinding light.

Boneless, Minho collapses forward against Jisung's sticky chest. He listens to the sound of Jisung’s breath, his too quick heart beat.

His giggling.

“What’s funny?” Minho asks, utilising his remaining strength to push himself up and look down at Jisung.

“Nothing,” Jisung kisses him again and again.

Sexy. Fighter. Attractive. Adorable. Dangerous. Great in bed. Minho thinks, giggling against Jisung's hair.

♤ ♡ ♢ ♧

They shower together.

It’s not sexual, but very sensual. And it’s new. Minho has never done anything like this with anyone before. Has never wanted to until Jisung had made the suggestion. He takes his time lathering shower gel into Jisung’s skin. He’s being particularly gentle over his ribs, which are more purple than red now. Smiles when Jisung giggles, “Not there! I’m ticklish.”

Jisung gently massages shampoo into Minho’s hair in between kisses and giggles. It’s odd, just how much Minho is enjoying this. Enjoying the closeness. Enjoying Jisung.

When they step out of the bathroom, hair dripping, towels around their waists, Minho pulls the top sheet off the bed, drops it into the wash basket and Jisung crosses the room to the bedroom door, pulls it open, “Where’s the beautiful boy?”

‘That’s me,’ Soonie chirps as he trots to Jisung, arching against his legs, bell tinkling. ‘I’m here.’

What the fuck is wrong with my cat?

Jisung scoops him up, carries him over to the bed. “I’m so sorry we kicked you out.” Jisung croons, “I know. We’re mean, aren’t we? Yes.”

“You’re mean,” Minho corrects, lying on the bed and scratching Soonie under the chin. Mimicking Jisung’s condescending tone, “You were all cosy before you got evicted.”

Jisung narrows his eyes down at Minho, “I’m certain that everything that just happened would have been traumatic for the poor boy.”

Minho chews his smile, “He still heard us, Ji.”

And there it is, that pleasant shade of pink spreading up Jisung’s neck and settling around his cheeks.

Jisung kneels up onto the bed, lays down with Soonie between them. Soonie languishes in the attention he’s receiving from them both. Jisung’s fingers buried in the softness of his orange and white fur, his knuckles purpling and swollen. Minho traces them with his thumb, “Where did you learn to fight like that?”

“I just kind of had to,” Jisung shrugs. “I’ve always been sort of scrappy. If there’s one thing I know, it’s that, to survive, you have to fight.”

If you want something. Fight for it. Fight for it and win. It’s a lesson his Father had beaten into him from an early age.

“I hope the girl is okay,” Jisung says. A small furrow forming on his brow.

Minho cups his head, leans forward, kisses it gently. “I’m sure she’s being well looked after.”

The furrow melts away.

“You can fight too,” Jisung says. “Boxing?”

“Hmm, and mixed martial arts.”

Jisung’s fingers trace the ragged line on his bicep, “You have a lot of scars,” he says. “Who hurt you?”

“That’s from a broken bottle,” he tells him. “I was trying to break up a fight.” He chooses to leave out the part where he’d started and finished it.

“And this?” Jisung caresses the pink scar beneath his left collar bone that his brother Felix gave him after a particularly rowdy night and an honest to goodness misunderstanding.

“Broken pool cue.”

“And this?” Jisung’s knuckles brush the long thin scar below his diaphragm.

“I don’t actually know about that one. I’ve had it for as long as I can remember.”

“Hasn’t your father told you?”

“He doesn’t know either. I, um… I’m adopted,” he surprises himself by saying this out loud. He’s not ashamed of it. It’s just something he chooses not to tell people. “So my medical history from before is a little vague.”

Something flickers over Jisung’s eyes, but it’s gone and he’s speaking before Minho gets the opportunity to try and understand the look. “Your brothers?”

“We’re all adopted, but I love them as if they are brothers,” he smirks, knowing that whilst this is true, his brothers would vehemently deny that Minho is capable of such affection. “Blood is thicker than water, after all.”

Jisung grins widely at him, “You are probably the first person I’ve heard use that in the correct way,” his eyes burn, and he leans forward, kisses Minho who kisses back and their hands are quickening, fingers digging, towels slipping and—

Meow.

Jisung pulls away giggling. Minho is less than amused.

“I’m sorry!” Jisung says, leaning back and petting Soonie, “Are you feeling left out?” he plants a kiss on the top of Soonie’s head. Soonie purrs happily. Little cat cock blocker.

Minho settles down against the pillows. Outside, the sun is rising and the morning twilight plays with Jisung’s soft features. Minho thinks he’s probably the most beautiful man in this, or any other world, past, present or alternate.

Jisung glances at him, smiles, “What are you looking at?”

“Nothing,” it comes out like a sigh. Minho traces the black and red circle with a white star radiating from the centre. “Tell me about this.”

Jisung smiles, “My broken compass?”

And now Minho can see it, the points for north, east, south and west, but the letters at these points are different; S-T-A-Y. “Why’s it broken?”

“Have you seen Pirates of the Caribbean?”

“No,” Minho says.

“Well, shame on you. You should watch it. It’s a whole thing,” his smile is teasingly beautiful. “But my broken compass is a reminder. A reminder that I’m never really lost. That I’m not really astray. That I can always find myself, if I rely on what my heart is telling me.”

Whatever Minho had envisioned the answer to be, this was not it. He feels a bubble rise in his chest, and poking curiously at it, realises that it’s sadness. He feels sad that Jisung has ever felt astray. He cups Jisung's face, lets his thumb caress his cheek, “Stay with me a little longer?”

Smiling, Jisung cups Minho’s hand with his own, and lays down. “Okay.”

♤ ♡ ♢ ♧

Minho wakes to sunlight blinding him. South facing windows are great and all, except at midday when you’ve had less than four hours sleep. He flinches back from it, rolls away, hand reaching across the bed finding it empty. Usually, finding that his previous nights fuck toy has scarpered fills him with relief. So he’s a little surprised and wary of the hollowness sitting in his chest at Jisung’s absence. Or is it the absence of Jisung? Whichever it is, he’s not particularly fond of the feeling.

Distantly, in the fog of his sleepy brain, he’s aware that Soonie isn’t glaring at him from the bedside table or neighbouring pillow, bopping his nose with an angry paw demanding breakfast, which is his usual morning alarm. He rolls onto his back and drops his forearm over his eyes, listens to the sound of the hum of the traffic and a television. No, not a television. He removes his arm, sits up on his elbows, stares at his open bedroom door. It’s definitely his television.

He rolls out of bed, pulling on last night's sweatpants and pads barefooted and bare chested into his living room.

Jisung is sitting cross legged on the couch, wearing his laundered tank top and jeans and hideous socks and eating a triangle of jammy toast. Soonie is curled into a ball on his lap and they are both staring at the television. On the screen, a pretty woman is talking to a prettier man and after only thirty seconds of listening to them, horror settles into his stomach, it’s one of those fucking dating shows. “You’ve got to be kidding me? You watch this shit?”

“Shush,” Jisung says, waving his toast at him in a gesture to be quiet. Which is fucking cheeky since he’s sitting in Minho’s home. Or fucking cute. By the way Jisung nibbles on his toast, his eyes large and fixed on the screen, Minho leans towards cute, but he’s adding cheeky to his list. “I’ve been waiting for three weeks for him to finally confess to her.”

“Confess what?” Minho folds his arms across his chest, “That it’s a terrible idea to talk about their love life on national television?”

“Shush!” Jisung hisses.

Feeling scolded and chuckling quietly to himself, Minho ruffles Jisung’s hair as he pads over to the kitchen, or what had been his kitchen. The carnage remaining from Jisung making toast is a wonder to behold. It’s amazing there’s any jam on his toast, since a large quantity of it seems to be everywhere else. He’d clearly tried to wash the previous night’s dishes, but didn’t know where to put anything so had them teetering dangerously on the sink. But there’s coffee brewing in the pot, so that’s something. He steps on something hard, curses as he hops on one foot, inspects the other to find a cat biscuit there. Glances down at Soonie’s overflowing bowl.

“YES!” Jisung says. “Tell her! Tell her!”

Meoooow, Soonie agrees.

‘The thing is…’ the handsome man on screen is saying. ‘I never stopped loving you.’

Minho rolls his eyes, pours himself a mug of coffee.

“YES!” Jisung bounces on the couch, hands in the air. Soonie leaps away from him and scampers into the bedroom as Jisung claps his hands. “Finally!”

Music is playing now, the dramatic-romantic type as the camera focuses on the pretty woman’s disbelieving face and then the credits roll. Jisung vaults over the back of the couch, his smile wide and fucking adorable. He does a little happy skip, his fists like paws at his side. “He finally told her.”

“I gathered,” Minho can’t help smiling at him around his coffee mug.

Jisung plants a kiss on his cheek, “Good afternoon.”

“Afternoon,” Minho replies, setting his mug down so he can wrap his arms around Jisung’s waist. Honestly, his arms are made for this. “Hmm.”

Jisung grins at him, but pulls away and covers his mouth when Minho leans forward for a kiss. “I haven’t brushed my teeth.”

“Neither have I,” Minho says, pulling Jisung closer, breathing on him.

“Oh my lord,” Jisung whines, nose wrinkling as he tries to wriggle free.

Minho plants a quick chaste kiss against Jisung’s lips and at once he stops wriggling, begins melting in Minho’s arms, his hands encircling Minho’s neck, pulling him down, kissing him deeply, and he tastes like strawberries, moaning against Minho’s lips. After seconds that might have been hours, Jisung pulls away. His cheeks are that pretty shade of pink, “Well, that was disgusting.”

“Uh-huh,” Minho says, kissing him once more before letting him go.

Jisung leans back against the breakfast bar, “I fed Soonie.”

“I see that.”

“I wasn’t sure how much to give him.”

“I see that too,” Minho tickles Jisung under his chin. “Good effort.”

Giggling, Jisung rabbit punches his shoulder. Hugs himself. “I don’t suppose you have a jumper or something I could borrow? My shirt’s outside, but it’s still damp.”

“Of course, are you cold?”

“No, not cold, I just, I er, don’t really like my arms out, on show.”

Minho arches an eyebrow at him, “You don’t like your arms?”

“I just don’t feel comfortable.”

Sexy. Fighter. Attractive. Adorable. Dangerous. Great in bed. Cheeky. Shy.

Minho kisses the top of his head, “For the record, you have very sexy arms,” he says, stepping round Jisung and heading to his room. At the very top of his wardrobe he finds an old, hooded jumper in dark grey, with two white wings on the back. “Is this okay? It’ll be massive on you.”

“It’s cute, thanks,” Jisung says, pulling it over his head, the sleeves hanging low over his hands. And Minho sees the way Jisung’s shoulders relax under the fabric.

“Better?”

“Much,” Jisung smiles at him.

There is the sound of a phone vibrating. Minho automatically glances at his bedside table where his phone is on charge, but it’s still and silent.

Jisung pulls his own from the front pocket of his jeans, his face hardens as he scowls at the broken screen, and ends the call.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m—for fuck’s sake,” he ends the second call. “I have to go.”

“Do you need a lift? I could drive—”

“No. No, that’s not necessary.”

His phone rings for a third time and Minho’s seeing the tightness in his shoulders return. “Do you need to get that? I can leave—”

“No. They can wait,” Jisung steps forward, cups Minho’s head and pulls him down for a kiss and the kiss is going places when his fucking phone starts ringing again. “Fuck, I’m sorry.” Jisung ends the call again. “I had a wonderful time last night.” He looks Minho in the eye, pushing strands of hair away from Minho’s forehead. “A really wonderful time.”

“Me too,” Minho says, allowing his hands to rub circles over Jisung's back. Feels his muscles tense when his phone rings again.

“I really have to go,” he steps back, pets Soonie on the head and stoops down to kiss the spot between his ears. “Be good, beautiful boy.”

Soonie chirps, ‘I will’.

Why are you lying? Minho thinks.

“Ji?” Minho follows him out of the bedroom, Jisung is already at the main door, pulling on his boots, not bothering to tie his laces, just shoving the loose ends inside them. Groaning loudly when his phone starts ringing again. “Ji?”

Jisung shakes his head, unlatches the door, but Minho slaps his palm against it, slamming it shut.

“Ji, look at me.”

Jisung takes a shaky breath, looks. His eyes are damp. Any joy he’d had only five minutes ago has been expunged by the person trying to call him. Minho feels a visceral loathing of the person on the other end of those calls. He thumbs a tear from Jisung's cheek, “Who’s trying to call you?”

“It’s no-one,” Jisung lies terribly, which isn’t necessarily a bad trait.

“Your boyfriend?” It makes sense, in the moment, though the word burns in his chest. “Girlfriend?” he hedges, remembering the red and blue girls from the club.

“No,” Jisung smiles tiredly at him, “Nothing like that, it’s,” he sighs, “it’s my brother.”

“Oh, okay,” Minho hears the sound of relief in his own voice. “Are you okay?”

His nose wrinkles as he shakes his head.

Minho’s unsure who kisses who first but they are kissing, Jisung pinned against the door, his leg around the back of Minho’s thigh, pulling him in, and closer, his hands flattening over Minho’s chest, up and over his shoulders, into his hair and his fucking phone starts ringing again.

“Tell him to fuck off,” Minho growls against Jisungs mouth.

Jisung giggles, dropping his foot back to the floor and gently detaching Minho’s hands from his waist. “I have to go,” he says as he wrenches the door open. Hesitates on the threshold. “Can I call you?”

“You fucking better,” Minho says and Jisung kisses his cheek quickly before he flees out of the door, jogs towards the elevator, takes the stairs.

Minho closes the door, walks to his windows, heaves one open and steps out onto the narrow balcony. The sun is heating his skin, but his feet are cold on the concrete. He watches and he waits, and finally he sees Jisung, hood over his head, phone pressed to his ear, jogging lightly across the street, flagging down a taxi and scrambling into the back of it. Minho watches as the taxi rolls down the road and disappears around a corner.

Palming the back of his neck, Minho turns to head back inside when he spots Jisung’s shirt, draped over the back of a chair. He lifts it, carries it inside.

Purr? Soonie is pacing in front of the door, sniffing the spot where Jisung’s boots had been.

“He’s away,” Minho tells him. “Don’t look at me in that tone.”

Soonie sits down and continues to scowl at Minho as if he was the one who made him leave.

Minho flops onto the couch, idly feeling the smooth silk of Jisung’s shirt between his fingers. He glances up at the television showing icons of several shows of happy, smiling, pretty heterosexuals and the words: Because you watched Exchange: you might also like…

“No I fucking wouldn’t,” Minho says reaching for the remote and turning the television off.

Jisung: Sexy. Fighter. Attractive. Adorable. Dangerous. Great in bed. Cheeky. Shy. Algorithm wrecker.

“Fuck,” Minho sighs dropping his head back. He’d slept with a lot of people in his time… could remember (maybe) some of their names. Could just about recall what they looked like… but here he was able to recite his list of Jisung’s without any issue.

Meow? Soonie says for no reason.

Another Jisung: Cat heart stealer.

“Fuck.”

TASTE M.List & Sypnosis

Chapter 1 - Parley

Chapter 2 - The DLC

Chapter 4 - The Wolf & His Pack

#TASTE | Minsung #skz fic #Lee Minho #Han Jisung #Christopher Bahng #Bang Chan #Changbin #Seungmin #Hyunjin #Felix #Jeongin #Soonie #Stray Kids Fan Fiction #Mafia AU #Romeo x Romeo

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pucksandpower · 1 month ago

Text

On Display

Day 10 → Exhibitionism 💋 Kimi Räikkönen

Warnings: 18+ content

Kinktober Masterlist

Kimi Räikkönen doesn’t care about most things. It’s not apathy exactly, it’s more like everything just slips right past him. He does his job, keeps his head down, says what’s necessary — and even then, not much more than that. It’s enough to keep him going, to keep the world at arm’s length, until you came along.

You're different. That’s what unsettles him.

You’re new, fresh out of university, assigned to be his Press Officer for Alfa Romeo Racing. The team was proud of themselves for hiring you. Young, capable, smart. You’ve been around Kimi for a few months now, and it didn’t take long for something to shift inside him.

He’s not sure when it happened, or how, but it did. And now he can’t stop thinking about you.

Today, the garage is bustling — mechanics clinking tools, engineers hunched over laptops. Kimi stands near his car, keeping himself at a distance like he always does. But then he hears it, a conversation drifting over the noise.

"She's way too young for him," one mechanic says, voice low but not low enough. "Kimi's over forty. She should be with someone … closer to her age."

Kimi doesn't flinch, but he narrows his eyes slightly. The other mechanic laughs, “Like who, you? Come on, man, you’d never have a chance.”

“I’m serious,” the first one continues, “She deserves someone who can keep up with her, you know? Someone who’s not … past his prime.”

Kimi's grip on his helmet tightens.

He knows how it looks — he’s been around long enough to understand how people see him. Quiet, cold, detached. The guy who doesn’t care about anything. But this? This stings more than he expected. He stands there, frozen, until he sees you at the edge of the garage, talking to another team member, completely unaware of the conversation happening just a few feet away.

Kimi makes up his mind instantly.

Without a word, he strides across the garage, brushing past people with a determined look in his eyes. You don’t notice him until he’s right in front of you, blocking your path.

“Kimi?” You ask, blinking up at him. “What’s-”

“Come,” he says, his voice low and commanding. It’s not a request. Before you can ask another question, he’s taken your hand, pulling you along with him. You don’t resist, but confusion paints your face as he leads you through the maze of the garage.

“Kimi, what’s going on?” You ask, struggling to keep up with his long strides. “Did something happen?”

He doesn’t answer right away. He’s too focused on getting to his driver’s room, away from everyone else, away from the noise and the looks. He doesn’t slow down until he reaches the door, pushing it open with one hand and ushering you inside with the other.

You barely have time to catch your breath before he shuts the door behind him, the soft click of the lock echoing in the small space. The room is quiet, a stark contrast to the chaotic energy outside, and you can feel the tension rolling off him in waves.

“Kimi,” you say again, softer this time. “What is it?”

He takes a moment, staring at you with that intense, unreadable expression he always wears. But there’s something else behind it now — something sharper, more vulnerable.

“I heard them,” he finally says, voice rougher than usual.

Your brow furrows. “Heard who?”

“The mechanics.” His jaw tightens. “Talking about you. About us.”

You blink, taken aback. “What did they say?”

Kimi steps closer, his eyes never leaving yours. “That I’m too old for you. That you should be with someone else. Someone younger.”

You open your mouth to respond, but he cuts you off, his frustration spilling over. “They think I can’t keep up with you. That I’m not good enough.”

His words hang in the air, heavy and raw, and for the first time since you met him, Kimi looks … uncertain. It’s jarring, seeing him like this — the man who’s always in control, always so sure of himself, now questioning everything.

“Kimi,” you say softly, stepping closer until you’re just inches away from him. “That’s ridiculous.”

He shakes his head, running a hand through his hair. “Is it?”

“Yes,” you insist, your voice firm. “Why are you even listening to them? They don’t know anything about us.”

His gaze flickers, something close to doubt flashing in his eyes. “But maybe they’re right.”

You can’t help the small laugh that escapes you, though there’s no humor in it. “Right about what? That you’re too old for me?”

He doesn’t answer, but the look on his face says enough.

You take a deep breath, reaching out to gently touch his arm. “Kimi, listen to me. I don’t care what anyone else thinks. You’re the one I’m with, not them. And I’m with you because I want to be. Not because of your age, or your career, or whatever else they think.”

He stares at you, his expression softening just a fraction. “But you could have someone else,” he murmurs. “Someone … younger.”

You roll your eyes, but there’s affection in the gesture. “I don’t want someone else. I want you.”

Kimi stays silent for a moment, his eyes searching yours like he’s trying to figure out if you really mean it. When he speaks again, his voice is quieter, almost hesitant. “Why?”

You laugh, the sound light and teasing. “Do you really need me to list all the reasons?”

His lips twitch, the ghost of a smile threatening to break through, but he doesn’t let it.

“Fine,” you say, stepping even closer until you’re practically toe-to-toe. “You want to know why? Because you’re kind. Because you care, even if you don’t show it the way most people do. Because you make me laugh, even when you’re not trying to. And because when I’m with you, everything feels … right.”

His eyes soften, the tension in his shoulders finally easing. “You really think that?”

“I do,” you say, your voice sincere. “And I don’t care what anyone else says. They don’t get to decide what’s right for us. Only we do.”

Kimi watches you for a long moment, the weight of your words sinking in. Slowly, he reaches up, his fingers brushing your cheek in the gentlest of touches. It’s such a small, simple gesture, but it feels like everything in that moment.

“I’m not letting you go,” he says quietly, but there’s a fierceness behind his words that makes your heart race. “Not for them. Not for anyone.”

You smile, leaning into his touch. “Good. Because I’m not going anywhere.”

For a while, neither of you say anything. The silence isn’t uncomfortable; it’s warm, filled with everything unspoken between you. Kimi’s thumb traces slow circles on your cheek, his gaze locked on yours, and for the first time in a long time, he lets himself feel something. Something more than just the numb routine of racing, more than just the motions of his life.

It’s you.

You’re the difference. The one thing he never expected to care about, but now can’t imagine being without.

“They’ll keep talking,” he says after a while, his voice quieter now, almost resigned.

“Let them,” you reply, your tone defiant. “We know the truth. That’s all that matters.”

He doesn’t respond, but you can see it in his eyes — the way they soften, the way the lines of tension in his face smooth out. You’ve managed to calm him, to ease the storm raging in his mind. And that’s something no one else has ever been able to do.

Kimi exhales slowly, like he’s letting go of something heavy. He takes your hand again, this time more gently, pulling you toward him until your bodies are pressed together. His hand lingers on your waist as he pulls away slightly, just enough to look into your eyes. There’s a certain darkness there now, a fire that wasn’t present before. He’s calm, but there’s something electric beneath the surface. You can feel it.

Without breaking eye contact, he reaches behind him, and with a swift, almost careless movement, pulls the door to the driver’s room open. The quiet hiss of the hinges echoes in the small space, but it’s the sudden rush of noise from the garage outside that jolts you.

“Kimi,” you whisper, glancing toward the open door, “What are you doing?”

His gaze stays locked on yours, unwavering, and he says it, voice low and dangerous, “I want everyone to hear you cry my name.”

Your heart skips a beat.

“And I want them to see,” he continues, his fingers brushing along your jawline before tilting your chin up slightly, forcing you to meet his eyes, “to know what I can do to you. That you’re mine.”

There’s no question in his voice, no hesitation. He’s daring you, challenging you in a way that only Kimi Räikkönen can. The kind of challenge that pulls you in, that makes it impossible to say no, even if every part of you is screaming at how reckless, how exposed this could be.

“Kimi,” you start, but the words get lost as he steps even closer, the warmth of his body brushing against yours, overwhelming every other thought.

“You don't want them to know?” He asks, the faintest smirk pulling at his lips, though his voice remains steady. “You don’t want them to hear how you scream for me?”

Your breath hitches, and Kimi notices. He always notices. There’s that rare smile again, the one that barely shows but tells you everything. You’re his, and he’s about to make sure everyone knows it.

You glance again at the open door, the sounds of the team moving about just a few feet away — tools clanking, mechanics talking, engineers calling out data. They’re all out there. They could hear everything.

And Kimi doesn’t care.

His fingers slip under the hem of your shirt, grazing the skin just above your hips, slow and deliberate. “I want them to know,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against the side of your neck, sending shivers down your spine. “I want them to hear.”

The possessiveness in his voice is unmistakable. He’s not asking; he’s telling you, declaring it like an unshakable truth.

You’re his.

He guides you backward with a gentle but firm push until your back hits the wall. The sudden pressure makes you gasp, and before you can say anything, Kimi’s mouth is on yours. It’s not soft — it’s demanding, consuming. Every kiss, every touch is a statement. You belong to him, and now, he’s going to make sure the world knows it.

“Kimi, the door-” you manage to murmur against his lips, but he just kisses you harder, silencing any protest.

“I want it open,” he growls into your mouth, his voice rough with need. “I want them to see.”

His hands are all over you now, possessive, as if he can’t touch you enough, can’t get enough of you. He doesn’t care who hears, who sees. In fact, that’s exactly what he wants. He’s always been reserved, controlled — until it comes to you. With you, all of that falls away.

Kimi pulls back just enough to look at you, his breath hot against your lips. “Say my name.”

You hesitate for a moment, your eyes darting again to the open door. You can hear footsteps passing by, voices just outside, oblivious to what’s happening inside this room. But the way Kimi looks at you, the intensity in his eyes, the sheer force of his presence — it makes it impossible to resist.

“Kimi,” you breathe, soft at first.

He smiles, that dark, dangerous smile that sends your pulse racing. “Louder.”

“Kimi,” you say again, louder this time, your voice trembling with a mix of anticipation and need.

“Good,” he mutters, his hands tightening on your waist as he presses his body against yours. “They’ll hear you soon enough.”

And then he’s kissing you again, hard and fierce, his hands moving to your thighs, lifting you effortlessly as he presses you against the wall. Your legs wrap around his waist instinctively, and you can feel the heat of him through the fabric of his racing suit.

The door is still open.

The thought lingers in the back of your mind, but it’s quickly drowned out by the overwhelming sensation of Kimi’s hands on you, his mouth devouring yours like he can’t get enough. You can hear the faint hum of voices outside, the occasional burst of laughter or the sound of tools clanging against metal, but it all fades away, drowned out by the rush of blood in your ears and the feel of Kimi’s body against yours.

He pulls away just long enough to look at you again, his chest rising and falling with heavy breaths. “You’re mine,” he says, his voice rough, filled with a kind of raw intensity that makes your stomach flip. “Only mine.”

“Yes,” you manage to breathe, your heart racing in your chest. “Only yours.”

And that’s all it takes. Kimi’s mouth crashes against yours again, and this time, there’s no holding back. Every touch, every kiss, every movement is possessive, claiming. He’s making sure that when you leave this room, there’s no doubt in anyone’s mind who you belong to.

But then, just as you’re about to fall over the edge, just as you feel like you might break apart from the intensity of it all, the door creaks. A shadow falls across the room.

“Kimi-” a voice starts, but it cuts off abruptly.

Your heart skips a beat, your eyes flying open as you realize someone’s standing in the doorway. Kimi’s race engineer, frozen in place, eyes wide in shock.

For a split second, the room is deathly silent.

“Kimi?” The engineer stammers, his voice filled with awkward confusion. “Uh … sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

But Kimi doesn’t move. He doesn’t even flinch. Instead, he turns his head slightly, just enough to glance over his shoulder at the stunned engineer, his expression as calm and collected as ever.

“What?” Kimi asks, his voice steady, almost bored, as if nothing unusual is happening.

The engineer’s eyes dart between the two of you, clearly flustered. “I, uh, I was just going to — there’s a … a data issue, but, uh … I’ll come back later.”

Kimi doesn’t respond right away. He just stares at the engineer for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Finally, he nods, almost dismissively. “Do that.”

The engineer doesn’t need to be told twice. He practically stumbles over his own feet as he backs out of the room, pulling the door shut behind him with a hurried click.

The second the door is closed, Kimi’s attention is back on you, his hands tightening their grip on your hips. His eyes darken again, the fire from before rekindling as if nothing had happened.

“They’ll all know now,” he murmurs, his voice low and dangerous. There’s a possessive edge to his tone, something primal that sends a thrill through you.

“Kimi,” you breathe, your heart still pounding from the shock of being caught.

He smirks, leaning in to press a slow, deliberate kiss to the corner of your mouth. “Let them talk.”

And just like that, he’s kissing you again, his hands roaming your body with a kind of controlled urgency. There’s no hesitation, no pause to think about what just happened. It’s like the interruption never even fazed him.

He’s still in control, still completely focused on you.

“You’re mine,” he growls against your lips, and this time, there’s no room for doubt.

You are his.

And he’s going to make sure everyone knows it.

***

It’s late when the mechanic finally sits down on his worn-out couch, still in his travel clothes. The day had been long, filled with the usual chaos of a flying back home after a race weekend, and all he wants is to shut off his mind, sink into the cushions, and forget about everything for a while.

His phone buzzes on the coffee table, but he ignores it at first, figuring it’s just another group message from the guys. He’ll deal with that later.

But the phone buzzes again. And again. Three notifications in quick succession, and finally, he picks it up.

The screen lights up with a message from an unknown number.

New message: Open this. You’ll want to see.

His brow furrows as he reads it, curiosity piqued. He glances around his quiet apartment, feeling a strange sense of anticipation. He taps the message, and immediately, a video starts downloading. It’s taking its time — bad signal, probably. His thumb hovers over the screen, debating whether or not this is a good idea. Could be spam, or worse.

But something about the message, the cryptic tone of it, makes him wait.

The video finally finishes, and before he knows it, he presses play.

The screen flickers to life, and at first, it’s just a shot of a luxurious bedroom — modern, sleek, with low lighting and dark, rich colors. The kind of place he could only imagine staying in.

And then he sees you.

You’re there, on the bed, your body moving in a way that makes his breath catch in his throat. You’re wearing nothing but a thin, silk robe, and before he can process what he’s seeing, Kimi comes into view, shirtless, standing behind you. His hands are on your shoulders, sliding down your arms with a possessive, deliberate slowness.

“Holy shit,” the mechanic mutters under his breath, his pulse quickening.

In the video, Kimi’s voice is low and commanding as he leans in, whispering something in your ear that the mechanic can’t quite hear. But it doesn’t matter. The way you respond — the way your body reacts, arching slightly into Kimi’s touch — tells him everything he needs to know.

You belong to Kimi.

The mechanic’s hands tighten around his phone, his knuckles going white. He should stop watching, turn it off, but he can’t. It’s like he’s been pulled into something forbidden, something he knows he shouldn’t be seeing, but now that he has, he’s trapped.

Kimi moves around to the front of you in the video, tilting your chin up so you’re looking directly into his eyes. “Tell me,” Kimi’s voice rumbles through the speakers, clear and dominant, “who do you belong to?”

Your answer is immediate, breathless. “You.”

Kimi smiles, a dark, satisfied smile. “That’s right.”

The mechanic watches as Kimi pushes you gently back onto the bed, his movements fluid and controlled, like he’s done this a hundred times before. Kimi climbs over you, his body pressing down against yours, and the camera zooms in, catching every intimate detail — the way your hands slide up Kimi’s back, the way your lips part as you whisper his name, the soft moan that escapes when Kimi kisses your neck.

“Fuck,” the mechanic breathes, his heart pounding in his chest. He shouldn’t be watching this. It’s too personal, too raw. But he can’t look away. There’s something magnetic about the way Kimi moves, the way he commands your attention, your body, your everything.

In the video, Kimi’s voice breaks the silence again. “You’re mine. Say it.”

“I’m yours,” you whisper, your voice shaking, filled with a need that makes the mechanic’s stomach twist.

The mechanic shifts uncomfortably on the couch, feeling a mix of emotions he can’t quite pin down. Jealousy. Guilt. And something darker.

He hadn’t thought much of Kimi before — he’d respected him as a driver, sure, but as a man? He always thought Kimi was cold, detached. He hadn’t imagined that this version of Kimi existed — the one who could make you look at him like you were ready to fall apart, like nothing in the world mattered except him.

In the video, Kimi’s hands are everywhere now — your waist, your hips, your thighs. He’s slow, methodical, taking his time like he has all the control in the world. And maybe he does. The mechanic watches as Kimi’s lips trail down your neck, across your collarbone, lower still, until you’re gasping his name, your body arching off the bed in desperate, silent pleas.

“Kimi,” you breathe, and the mechanic feels it, the way you say his name like it’s a prayer, like it’s the only thing grounding you in the moment.

Kimi doesn’t respond, at least not with words. Instead, he pulls back slightly, just enough to look down at you, his gaze dark and possessive. His hand moves between your legs, and the mechanic can’t help but shift again, the tension in his body building as he watches. Kimi’s fingers are slow, deliberate, as he touches you, making you moan softly into the dimly lit room.

“Do you like this?” Kimi asks, his voice a low growl that sends shivers down the mechanic’s spine, even through the phone screen.

“Yes,” you gasp, your hands clutching the sheets.

“Louder,” Kimi demands, his tone firm but not unkind.

“Yes,” you cry out this time, your body trembling beneath him.

The mechanic’s chest tightens. He knows he shouldn’t be watching this. It’s too intimate, too raw, but there’s something captivating about the way Kimi has you — completely and utterly under his control. The way he commands your body, your voice, your everything.

In the video, Kimi leans down, his mouth capturing yours in a deep, possessive kiss, and the mechanic watches as you melt into it, your body relaxing into the bed as if Kimi is the only thing tethering you to the world.

It’s then that the camera angle shifts slightly, giving the mechanic a perfect view of your face — flushed, eyes half-lidded with pleasure, lips parted as you gasp for breath. Kimi’s fingers move faster now, more insistent, and the mechanic can see the way your body reacts, the way you tremble and arch under his touch.

“Kimi,” you cry out again, your voice breaking with need, with desperation.

Kimi’s response is immediate, his voice rough with satisfaction. “That’s it. Let them hear you.”

The mechanic’s heart pounds in his chest as he watches you unravel, your body shaking, your breaths coming in ragged gasps. He can’t tear his eyes away, even though he knows he should. There’s something intoxicating about watching you fall apart like this, knowing that it’s Kimi who’s doing this to you, who has you completely under his control.

The video continues, showing every intimate detail — Kimi’s hand tightening on your waist, the way your legs wrap around him, the way you moan his name over and over, completely lost in him. The mechanic’s throat feels tight, his skin prickling with a mix of emotions he can’t quite define.

In the video, you’re close — he can see it, the way your body trembles, the way your breaths come in short, desperate gasps. Kimi knows it too. His pace quickens, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispers something the mechanic can’t make out, but it doesn’t matter. The effect is immediate. You cry out, your body arching off the bed as you fall apart beneath him, your voice breaking with pleasure.

The camera lingers for a moment, capturing the way you collapse back against the pillows, completely spent, your chest rising and falling with heavy breaths. Kimi doesn’t move for a moment, just watches you, his hand still resting on your waist, his touch gentle now, almost reverent.

Slowly, he leans down, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, and the mechanic watches as you melt into him, your body relaxing completely. Kimi shifts, pulling you into his arms, your head resting on his chest as you come down from the high, your breaths evening out.

The video ends with that image — Kimi lying back against the headboard, his arms wrapped around you protectively as you rest your head on his chest, eyes closed, completely exhausted. His fingers move through your hair, a soft, almost tender gesture that the mechanic never would’ve expected from him.

For a long moment, the mechanic just sits there, staring at the blank screen of his phone. His heart is still racing, his skin prickling with the intensity of what he just witnessed. He feels … unsettled. He hadn’t expected this. Hadn’t expected Kimi to be so possessive, so dominant, and definitely hadn’t expected you to be so completely his.

He swallows hard, trying to push down the mix of jealousy, confusion, and something else that swirls in his chest. He feels like he’s seen something he was never meant to see — something private, something intimate. And yet, whoever sent this video wanted him to see it. Wanted him to know exactly what Kimi is capable of, exactly how well he can take care of you.

The mechanic leans back on the couch, letting out a long breath as he stares up at the ceiling. He knows one thing for sure: Kimi Räikkönen isn’t someone to underestimate.

And you — well, you’re his, in every possible way, and now the mechanic knows it too.

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ozziyo · 1 year ago

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Thus from my lips, by thine, my sin is purged.

#I'M BACK ON MY ROMEO AND JULIET BULLSHIT #good omens #good omens fanart #good omens 2 #aziracrow #ineffable husbands #aziraphale #crowley #anthony j crowley #crowley x aziraphale #digital art #my art #my fanart #romeo and juliet

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str8upjorkinit · 2 months ago

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Stop why do I keep thinking about this

#tokyo debunker #tdb #taiga hoshibami #romeo scorpius lucci #taiga x romeo #ayo gay people 🤨🤨🤨#guys i think romeo is a tsundere idk #do you think they kissed after #this chapter was kinda silly dilly #tokyo debunker taiga #tokyo debunker romeo

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tidetower · 6 months ago

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The Prince of the Hightower and the Heir to High Tide

Artist: erchitos

#valyrianscrolls #asoiaf #fire and blood #daeron targaryen #daeron the daring #addam velaryon #addam of hull #addam x daeron #addaeron #tidetower #the dance of the dragons #art #asoiaf art #another art inspired by romeo & juliet #the infamous balcony scene this time <3 #daeron is in his tower (dragon in the tower symbolism!)#and addam is on a ship being carried away by the tides #the net in front of him is constraining him and keeping him away from daeron = his duty as the velaryon heir #the theme of captivity/freedom is actually so relevant to both their stories #daeron was at the hightower for the sake of his duty to his family meanwhile addam was able to sail the seas freely #but when daeron finally leaves behind his tower it's addam that is bound to familial duty now #they basically switch places!!#the flowers are forget-me-nots because that's a perfect representation of their relationship

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tsuutarr · 3 months ago

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Pairing: Tokyo Debunker Ghouls x Reader

Word count: 12K

Content: angst, pining, loss

Summary:

Your potential death due to your curse was no secret, yet there was still a promise of time – time for you (and those who’re willing to help you) to find a cure, a solution to your plight.

No one expected your death to come so suddenly.

(Or, a look into how the Darkwick Academy ghouls may react to your passing)

You’re no stranger to tragedy, but your death still comes as a surprise to you. Perhaps you should’ve expected it, what with your luck continuing its downward spiral to misfortune. Maybe you should’ve expected someone who despised you to take matters into their own hands, deciding to rid this world of your existence before you became a disastrous anomaly – before you even had a chance to fight your fate.

Regret upon regret builds a castle inside your bleeding body. Apologies, confessions – all of them slowly die in your throat.

You should’ve expected it all.

But you didn’t.

So now you lay, your blood a perfect canvas to frame your loss of life.

Your sage’s ring glows dimly on your finger.

“The Honor Student has passed away,” the Masterpiece Newscasters proclaim, their monotone voice ringing clearly throughout Darkwick Academy. “The culprit is yet to be found. All residents are forbidden to leave the premises until the criminal is found.”

As the Masterpiece Newscasters continue to prattle on about the false information of the Honor Student’s – your – passing, Yuri can feel a headache erupt from behind his eyelids. He’s already slept less than the recommended amount today, he doesn’t need this added stress! There’s no way you’re gone, it’s just not possible. You so bravely faced that immortal anomaly after all, so how could you be dead?

Yuri Isami is only heading to your place of residence to put these bizarre rumors to a rest.

Even when he sees your crumpled body on the floor, Yuri doesn’t believe it – you must have chosen to sleep oddly!

Even when he feels the coldness of your skin, he doesn’t believe it – you just need a blanket!

Even when he doesn’t hear your heartbeat, he doesn’t believe it – you must be acting!

No, no, he has to be realistic. You’re definitely sick. He has to help you. He has to save you! He can save you! He’s the greatest doctor, after all! He can think of so many ways to save you. He can, if you just enhance his stigma, so why don’t you do it? Yuri clutches your hand in his, hands trembling.

“Why won’t you enhance my stigma, worm?” he mumbles. “You can do at least this much, can’t you? You have the opportunity to help the great Yuri Isami! It’s an honor!”

“Yes, it’s an honor to help you,” you had said, laughing. Yuri could be quite particular about laughs, but he didn’t mind yours because there wasn’t anything patronizing about it. “You’re amazing, Yuri.”

“Hmph, well, it’s good that you know your place,” he had responded haughtily. He wishes he could’ve told you how grateful he was that you believed in him. That you were interested in him and his research. That you cared for him.

Yuri’s grip on your hand gets firmer, the coldness of your skin seeping into his. He looks at your eyes, thinking of the way your eyes would light up when he would showcase his scientific discoveries.

He looks at your lips, remembering how you’d smile so grandly at him whenever you two would talk. He remembers how you’d learn what song he was humming just to hum with him.

He looks at your hand, recalling the warmth and strength he felt when he first held it. The way your hand shook due to your own fear remains engraved in his brain – the way that you supported him despite looking like you’d fall. You’ve been able to stand so long, haven’t you? You can’t be gone now.

“Jiro!” he calls, voice cracking. This surgery needs to be a success. He can’t – he won’t – hand you over to another researcher. “Bring the Honor Student to Mortkranken! They need treatment immediately!”

At Yuri’s call, Jiro immediately reaches for you, cradling you in his arms as he lifts you up. He’s never really been one to be gentle, especially in regards to corpses. As long as the corpse is intact, is there any reason to be “gentle”? Jiro doesn’t really think so. But, even so, Jiro can’t bring himself to manhandle you, tossing you around like he would anyone else.

As soon as he saw you on the floor, he wanted to gather you in his arms and carry you back to bed. He wanted to open up his suitcase and conduct your weekly health checkup. He wanted to ensure that you weren’t dead.

Unfortunately, Jiro is cursed with objectivity and he knows – knows – that there’s no way you’re still alive. He also knows that there’s no way to bring you back. Maybe if they had found you faster. Maybe if you were a ghoul. Maybe, maybe, maybe…

But it’s too late now, isn’t it?

He thinks about how you reacted whenever you saw blood and gore. He thinks about how much you fret over him and his injuries, even though he reassures you constantly. He thinks about the warmth of your palms.

He thinks about the ridiculous care you put into everyone.

“What’s this packet? I can’t eat solids,” Jiro had stated bluntly when you passed him a box. It was pink and cutesy, decorated with ribbons.

“It’s not a solid,” you said, grinning cheekily. “Look inside!”

Jiro looked at you blankly, but still did as you instructed. Yuri was strange, but you could be quite strange, too. “...Oh.”

“It’s chocolate milk! It should hopefully be easier to eat,” you beam at him. “Happy Valentine's Day, Jiro!”

Jiro cradles you closer to his chest, like you’re made of glass. You’re so cold, your skin feeling like his. He never thought that someone who was as warm-hearted as you could ever feel so desolate. “...I told you it’d be a problem for me if you died,” he murmured, softly, as he quietly trailed behind Yuri to head to Mortkraken.

When Rui hears the news of your passing, he’s pretty sure the world just stopped moving around him. He has to hear the news several more times to really come to terms with it. It’s unfair, he thinks, it’s so unfair.

You were fighting so hard. You were working so hard.

How could that come crashing down so suddenly?

It’s not fair. You of all people should’ve been able to live a long life. You of all people should’ve been able to be happy.

He tried so hard to stay away from you, to prevent him from accidentally killing you with his curse. You tried so hard to bring him comfort, despite the looming danger of his power. He’s flirted with plenty of people, but you’re the only person he’s ever thought he’d actually love to spend forever with. He cursed himself for those thoughts, knowing that longing for something that can’t be will only hurt him more. But there isn’t an easy end to longing.

“Sometimes, I wish I could’ve met you as a regular guy,” Rui had confided in you, one day, as the two of you sat in his bar. He swirled his wine, his cheeks slightly ruddy from the alcohol. “I guess you wouldn’t have given me the time of day if we had, though.” His laugh left his lips, hollowly bouncing around his glass as he took another sip.

“You’re drunk, Rui,” you had said, though your tone didn’t hold any malice. “...But sometimes, I wish I could’ve met you before our curses, too.”

This is why he couldn’t get over you, no matter how much he tried. This is why he couldn’t distance himself from you, no matter how much he tried. You drew him in closer and closer like a trap, and he was more than okay with being ensnared, even if he was scared of being hurt.

“Chuu!”

Rui blinked, surprised, as a cute teddy bear smooches him on the cheek.

“Sorry, you seemed distracted,” you hummed, making Rui laugh.

“Ah, yeah– yeah! Sorry about that,” he responded, “I def wasn’t trying to be.”

“I know,” you replied. “But you got to pay attention now, okay? I want you to meet someone!” You waved the teddy bear’s paw. “This is Honor Student Teddy!” Through your puppeteering, Honor Student Teddy offered Rui a hand, which Rui took with an amused look.

“You’re so cute.”

“Beep! Incorrect! The one that’s cute is Honor Student Teddy!” you said, looking away bashfully. Cute. “...So, I was thinking. Since we can’t touch, maybe we could use Honor Student Teddy as my replacement?” You grabbed Honor Student Teddy’s other hand, the one not in Rui’s grasp. “See? Doesn’t it kind of seem like we’re holding hands?”

Honor Student Teddy remains in Rui’s room, pampered and loved as it should be. As you should’ve been. A dry laugh escapes Rui.

“...Maybe this time, we can really hold hands.”

Blearily, Lyca opens his eyes, the sound of his phone buzzing waking him up. He sees that the message is from the blonde gigolo, which initially makes him annoyed. But Lyca has good instincts – his gut feeling is telling him to pay attention. So, instead of ignoring Rui, Lyca sleepily reads Rui’s texts.

His sleep soon evaporates from his being.

“It’s a lie!” he yells, jumping out of his bed and running to his bedroom’s door. There’s no way you’re gone. There’s no way he’ll never be able to smell your sweet scent ever again. There’s no way you won’t lay down with him and gently thread your fingers through his hair. There’s no way you won’t be able to draw together again. There’s just no way. There’s no way!

But even if Lyca wants to burst out of his bedroom, following your scent to find you, he can’t open the door. He can’t open the door to confirm if you’re really gone. He doesn’t want to go downstairs to see that you’re not waiting for him. He doesn’t want to go to the balcony where you’ll no longer be able to eat with him.

Lyca doesn’t want to lose you. Opening the door to the bedroom feels like he’ll lose you. Carefully, he goes back to his bed, where the blanket from Neros and the blanket from you lay side by side.

“Lyca!” you beammed, making Lyca tilt his head. You had a sweeter scent than usual today. Something that indicated that you were quite happy.

“What’re you so egg-cited about?”

“Heh.” You gave him a big grin. It was something he’d come to like seeing, especially since so many on campus gave him a grimace. “Ta-dah!” With a flourish, you presented Lyca with a soft blanket. “I got you a gift!”

Lyca frowned, looking at the blanket in confusion. “I already got one.”

“Yeah, I know,” you responded, not at all discouraged by the bite in Lyca’s tone. “It’s an extra one! I thought it’d be nice if you could have some more blankets. You can be twice as warm and cozy now!” There was a hint of hesitation as you say your next words, “I can take it back, though. Sorry, I guess I got ahead of myself.”

“...S’okay.” Lyca took the blanket from you, feeling cozier as soon as he touched the soft fabric. It smelt like you. He liked how you smelled – in some ways, it reminded him of home.

Lyca looks at the blanket on his bed, the one that you got him. He grabs it, softly, in his palms. He remembers your encouragement when he had told you that he’d work hard so that he could live with humans. You said he could do it and when you said it, he really did feel like he could. So, you can’t be gone yet. He needs you.

With a deep inhale, Lyca snuggles the blanket that smells like you because maybe, just maybe, he’ll be able to chase you and tell you not to leave him if he memorizes your scent.

Rui’s message about your death comes as a surprise to Ed even though he knows that human lives are fleeting – they’re fragile and easily broken. In some ways, that is why Ed has always thought that human life is so beautiful.

Still, he thinks your life would’ve been so much more beautiful if you had lived it to its full extent. If you could’ve continued to laugh like you had, if you could’ve continued to shine bright like you had – he thinks you’d have made the world a better place.

He’s lived for many years, yet the loss of someone he considers dear somehow still stings. He thought he managed to rid himself of such stinging emotions, yet it appears that even age does not make you immune to loss.

Or perhaps you're just one of those humans – one of those humans that make a lasting impact on those around them. But how could you not make an impact? After all, you were so hardworking, both for your sake and for others.

Who wouldn’t find you precious?

“Okay, Ed! Let’s watch some sad movies!”

Ed had texted you a few minutes ago, bemoaning his exhaustion. He hadn’t expected you to barrel into his room, a bag of snacks in your hand.

“My, my. What brought this on? Not that I am opposed, of course.”

“Well, you said you were tired, right? And you also said you drink tears, right? Well, I brought over some movies I’ll definitely cry to!” you gave him a confident grin. “Don’t worry, Ed. You’ll feel better really soon!”

“How reassuring,” he mused, welcoming you into his messy room. Rui had cleaned it up a few days ago, but Ed found it quite difficult to maintain cleanliness. You didn’t comment on it as you made your way over to him, settling yourself by his side. It was quite cozy.

Laying in his bed isn’t quite as cozy if you’re not there, he realizes. He scrolls through the videos you’ve sent him, imagining how you reacted to these videos. It is reassuring in some ways to have remnants of you left behind, but the pain that he can now only reach you through the remnants of your memory leaves him feeling vacant.

“Being with you really does bring up old, old memories,” he muses. “Perhaps it’s because you remind me a little of her.”

He wonders if there’ll be anyone who reminds him of you.

Not everyone who dies becomes a ghost. Yet, deep inside, Zenji had hoped that you’d have turned into one like him. He had hoped that you’d be able to spend time together, finally being able to hold your hand in his. However, he knows that it’s a selfish desire, one that cannot come true. He scoured the entire campus for any sign of your soul, after all, and came up empty handed.

He wishes that you could’ve been alive instead, then.

He’d rather live by your side, unable to touch you, than not be able to see you at all.

He’d rather you live your life like you want to, happily.

He wishes he could’ve done something more for you – after all, you’ve done so much for him. He’s a ghost, someone that most don’t know the existence of. Yet you made sure to greet him and spend time with him whenever you had time. You’ve been a source of his inspiration, his muse, because of how much you make his heart swell with joy.

He is an artist, so creating is in his blood. However, how do you create when you lose a piece of your hope? How do you create when you lose your source of inspiration?

“My dear, what do you think about this piece?” Zenji had asked, flourishing his biwa with grandeur.

“It’s great!” you said, earnestly. “I especially like how it felt like a full narrative – I got so tense when the biwa’s sound got deeper in the middle, just like the climax of a story!”

“Astute observation, my dear! That is indeed what I was aiming for.” Zenji couldn’t express the unexplainable joy that blossomed inside his heart when he heard your praise. You were a beacon of light that shined in the desolate lands. You were the purple wisteria that danced from the tree branches over the Hotarubi lake. Your beauty, your kindness – it was all so beautiful to him. He felt like the moon to your sun. “I really am the luckiest fella around.”

And now, he’s the unluckiest fella around, Zenji thinks. You’re no longer by his side. You’ll never be by his side, at least, not in this lifetime. The thought makes Zenji’s heart throb painfully. “Maybe we really did meet too late,” Zenji murmurs, watching wisteria petals float around the lake. “But it’s all right. I promise I’ll find you in the next life.”

Haku can’t say he’s ever been too happy to be able to see ghosts. Sure, Zenji’s fun to be around and it’s not like his ability really harmed him in any way, but he can’t really think of many times he’s been glad to have his ability. When he hears of your death, denial is the first thing that settles in his brain. Then, the grief follows. But hope blossoms in a corner of his mind. He can see ghosts – maybe he’ll be able to see you? Hope glimmers in the corner of Haku’s heart as he tries to find you.

The glimmer soon dies out, however, because it’s all for naught. Not everyone becomes a ghost. It was foolish of him to think that you’d have become one.

But then what’s the point of his power – his stupid ability to see ghosts? What’s the point of it if he can’t even see the one he wants to see?

Haku feels like it’s all a big practical joke from the universe, and he wants to be in on it because he’s failing to see what’s so funny.

Living an ordinary life, dying an ordinary death – that’s something you deserved to experience, and now you’re gone. It’s an inexplicably painful feeling that stabs at his heart. How is he supposed to fill the hole you left behind?

“I don’t know if this is a good idea…” you murmured, looking shy.

“You look beautiful,” Haku said, easily, a teasing grin on his face at how flustered you looked. His words were far from teasing, though. They were filled with an earnest praise of how gorgeous you looked decorated in white. Just seeing you in wedding attire made him think that it’d be a shame if anyone else got to see how beautiful you looked, but also a shame if no one else got to see. A weird balance of wanting to show you off, yet wanting to keep you to himself lingered inside him.

“Sure, sure,” you grumbled without any bite. “Let’s just get this over with.”

“Thanks for agreeing to help, by the way,” Haku said, offering you his hand to take. You took it gratefully, before you shook your head with a laugh.

“It’s nothing. I’m glad I can help your junior in some way, though.”

“Yeah, she really appreciates your help.”

“Good.” The satisfaction on your face made you glow with a sort of shine one could only find in gold. It was precious, it was soft, it was so darling that Haku wanted to make sure that you continued to glow and shine forever. Even if it meant that you weren’t by his side (even though he so desperately wanted you by his side).

“...I know I’m being selfish – but sometimes, I wish you’d forget about me…” he murmured, low enough that he hoped you wouldn’t hear it. You gave him a glance, only squeezing his hand in response. He wasn’t sure how to interpret your reaction, but a part of him wants it to indicate that you wouldn’t ever forget him, even if forgetting him would most likely make you happier.

It’s hard to balance the desire of being remembered and the desire of being forgotten.

He wasn’t sure what he was feeling.

“But I guess that doesn’t really matter now, does it?” Haku muses, looking at the skies above. Stars sprinkle the navy-colored sky like diamonds. He can only hope you’re out there, shining.

From the age of four, Subaru was molded to perfect the performing arts. A child star, a prodigy – those are the titles given to him. He never feels like he deserves that praise – he’s not sure if he’ll ever feel like he deserves that praise. After all, growing up, anxiety was his most reliable companion, following him everywhere he went. How can he not doubt himself?

Yet while he breathed the performing arts, he’s developed mannerisms most around him find peculiar and odd. It’s hard not to think of himself as a bother when he can’t seem to blend into society as well as he’d like.

Because of his oddities, he never thought he’d ever be able to have a normal school life. Somehow, however, he's able to come to Darkwick Academy, experiencing pleasant social interactions due to the kindness of the people around him – people like yourself. You’re someone who Subaru can find a semblance of comfort in, despite his anxiety.

He knows he’s probably annoying you, but you’re always there, always so patient. You don’t make fun of him for his discomfort, nor do you push him beyond his boundaries. Instead, you patiently wait for him, allowing him to walk alongside you at his pace.

So when Subaru hears the news that you’re no longer with the living – no longer with him, he can't stop his mind from spinning. You’ve always been someone that waited for him patiently, yet now you’ve gone off by yourself to somewhere he can’t reach.

Emptily, he looks at the sakura mochi on the shelf – he had bought it for you. You’d eat his meager offerings with gusto, even if not all of them suited your palette.

He’s not sure how he’ll stomach some of the food he’s eaten with you from this point onwards. You’re not here physically, only your memories lingering in the ingredients of his meals. He’s not sure if he’ll be able to stomach the food you’ve made for him if someone else makes it, either.

“I’m sorry,” he had said, running up to you, out of breath.“I didn’t mean to be late.”

“You’re not!” you responded cheerily, patting the spot next to you. “Come, sit!”

“Thank you.” Gingerly, Subaru took the spot next to you, placing his hands on his lap. You peered at him curiously.

“Where’s your lunch, Subaru?”

“Ah.” Subaru ducked his head in embarrassment. “I ended up not being able to get anything.” Despite making you wait, despite his best efforts, he just wasn’t able to secure anything. How shameful. “But it’s all right. I can drink water for lunch.”

“No, don’t do that,” you chastised, lightly. “I actually packed my own lunch today because I thought it’d be busy everywhere. I packed a lot, so why don’t we share?”

“Ah–” Subaru looked at the delectable way your lunch box was crafted. “No, I’d hate to intrude.”

“You aren’t intruding, Subaru.” You nudged one of your lunchboxes into his hand along with some chopsticks. “I’m offering! I’m actually pretty happy with how some of these came out. Won’t you try some?”

At the delicious smell of your lunchbox, Subaru’s stomach let out an embarrassing growl. His face flushed, mortified, but you made no comment on it, instead offering your lunch again. “Well, if you insist,” he murmured, finally taking a box from you.

Once he took you up on your offer, you dug into your own lunch. Though, Subaru couldn’t help but notice how you’d glance at him nervously. It was kind of cute.

Not wanting to waste your kindness, Subaru took a bite of the lunch, before his eyes widened with glee. “This is delicious!”

“Whew– I mean, great! I’m so glad,” you beamed. “If you tell me some of your favorite food, I can try to make it for you! I can’t guarantee it’ll be as good as Sho’s, but I can try!”

“I couldn’t ask you to,” Subaru responded, bashfully. The thought that you cared for him was enough to satisfy him. “I would hate to be a bother.”

“You’re never a bother, Subaru.” Your voice was so kind, so soft and genuine that Subaru didn’t really know how to react.

“Really?” Disbelief laced his voice. He hated being a bother but always felt like he was. He knew that you were already spending your precious lunch with him when you could spend it with anyone else. There wasn’t any way you’d care about him to that extent, right?

“Subaru?” you asked, concerned.

“I just can’t believe it – why…” Subaru paused, suddenly hit with a bout of embarrassment. “Ah– I don’t want to seem like I’m testing you, I just… I get really anxious sometimes… I’m sorry. I’m being weird, aren’t I?”

“You’re not.” Your voice rang clear inside the storm in Subaru’s head, letting sunshine stream through the clouds. “I’ve never thought you were a bother. I actually really enjoy my lunches with you.”

“Really?”

“Yup! So if I’m not too much of a bother, let’s eat more lunches together!”

Subaru had promised, promised that he would. He promised that you’d always eat your lunches together because that’s what he sincerely believed. He believed that you two would be able to bask underneath the sunrays, seated on your favorite bench, laughing.

He wants to believe that you’ll still be able to eat together. He wants to believe so desperately. Because who else could bring him the comfort you did? Who else will patiently wait for him to catch up, gently guiding him when he needs it?

But now you’re gone – you’re gone. You won’t be able to come back. It tears at Subaru because his anxiety and inferiority complex tell him that it’s his fault – that he could’ve done something, anything, to save you.

Why couldn’t he save you?

Why couldn’t you have been saved?

The room that Subaru is in feels too big for him as it slowly fills with his grief.

According to Article 230 in the Japanese penal code, “a person who defames another by publicly alleging facts shall, regardless of whether such facts are true or false, be punished with penal servitude or imprisonment not to exceed three years or a fine of not more than 500,000 yen.” Doesn’t Darkwick know that? Why would Darkwick allege such odd things like your death, Ritsu wonders. Still, he’ll record what the Masterpiece Newscasters are saying – after all, it’ll be useful to leverage against Darkwick when he takes you to argue his cases.

There is little he finds more important than being able to argue his cases, which indicate his proficiency. He needs to be proficient in order to be able to become a fantastic lawyer like his father – this has always been his goal. Even after meeting you, it’s been his goal.

Some may have thought that you would’ve been a distraction for Ritsu, but he’s certain that your presence in his life has been for the better. You’re a fantastic business partner, being perfect to bounce his ideas off of. It’s admirable that you’ve taken on the mantle of ridding yourself of your curse, too. Ritsu finds that most people aren’t that hard working or really worth his time (unless they’re clients), but you’re different. You’re worth his time.

“Could I ask you to accompany me a little longer?” he had asked one day as you’re about to leave the diner. “I realize it’s outside of business hours, but… I would appreciate it if you could make a special exception.”

“Oh?” you looked surprised, though it was soon replaced with a smile. Your smile was something Ritsu appreciated seeing nowadays – something that felt like visible proof of Ritsu’s hard work. “Yeah, sure! I have time. What do you need?”

“I have to go over a few notes,” Ritsu responded, passing a notebook over to you. “I’ve already gone through these once, but I’d appreciate it if you could go through it, too. It’ll prove beneficial for you.”

“Yeah, sure, leave it to me!”

Your eagerness to help Ritsu cemented the fact that you were the right choice for his business partner. As the hour slowly trailed on, the both of you focused on your respective reading, Ritsu found that he didn’t quite mind spending time with you like this, outside of business hours. He found your presence calming, yet also helpful – he found it easier to focus when you were around.

It was nice. Even as the two of you began to wrap up, Ritsu wasn’t in as much of a hurry to disappear.

“I’ll take your thoughts into consideration,” Ritsu said as you two left the diner. The night sky stretched out beautifully above you two. Ritsu had never noticed it before.

“Sounds good!”

Ritsu cleared his throat, offering you a hand to shake. You shook his hand without much preamble. He appreciated it. “It seems we make better business partners than I would have expected. I look forward to a long and prosperous relationship with you.”

“Likewise.”

He still thought about the smile you’d given him that night, bright like the moon. It was a smile that made it obvious that he had someone by his side to support him – someone that he can support in return.

So, there’s no way you’re gone. Not when you have him as a business partner. That’s a ludicrous thought.

Still, he can’t seem to shake the ill feeling from his body. Why aren’t you responding to your texts? You’re usually quite timely unless something has come up. Something…

No, there’s no way you’re gone. There’s just no way.

Ritsu’s grip on his briefcase tightens.

He feels like he’s going to be sick.

Romeo wants to scream, so he does. “Everyone, leave!” His voice echoes in his room, his workers trying to scramble out of Romeo’s wrath. With a frustrated string of curses, Romeo collapses on his expensive chair, the one encrusted with diamond – the one that you’d complimented.

Romeo truly, utterly, feels sick. He feels annoyed. He feels disgusting. His perfect porcelain skin is marred with wrinkles, a frown deep set in his face. How dare you – how dare you have the audacity to leave him. He never gave you permission to do things like this, so how could you go away? He’s always known you were bad at following directions, but this is too much, even for you.

No.

What’s too much is that someone, someone, thought that they could come in and take you from him. How dare they! They didn’t even get permission from him! They didn’t… So why would they? They can’t take you away from him, not when you’re the only one that listens to him. Not when you’re the only one who seems to care about not making wrinkles appear on his face. Not when you’ve been doing your best.

It’s not fair. It’s just not fair.

“Why are you carrying that?! What if you drop it and it breaks?” Romeo exclaimed, watching you carry a very expensive vase.

“Ah – I heard you say that the guys who’re supposed to move this haven’t done their job, so I thought I could help!”

Help?! Romeo couldn’t help but look at the way your arms trembled with the weight of a price that far exceeded your budget, doubt coloring his face. “I’ll get one of our young guys to do it, so put it down already!”

You huffed, putting the vase down carefully, with a defeated sigh. “Sorry, I just wanted to help.”

“Help where you’re actually useful,” Romeo grumbled, crossing his arms. If those idiots that he’d asked to move the vase actually moved the vase, then he wouldn’t be in this predicament. “Those WTWUT make my life much harder.”

“Wall-to-wall useless trash, huh?” you mused. Romeo thought that amusement looked good on you – it gave you a cocky look that suited you. If only everyone else could be like you, then he wouldn’t be as stressed as he was.

“I need a face pack,” he muttered.

“Do you want me to get it for you?”

“Hm. Sure.” Romeo paused. “Get one for yourself while you’re at it.”

“Me?” you looked at him with curiosity and shock written across the apples of your cheeks.

“Who else?”

“I just… I dunno. Do you think it’s okay?”

“Of course. What could you possibly be afraid of?” Romeo asked. “You’re one of my people! Who’s going to say anything?”

You looked contemplative, before a light smile crossed your features. “That’s true. I guess no one can really say anything to you.”

Your words make him feel powerful. Your actions do, too. When he’s with you, he feels like the world is in his palms. But now he’s without you. Now, he’ll always be without you.

Anger thrums through his veins.

You’re one of his people. How dare they take you away from him? Romeo won’t stand for it. He’ll snipe down the bastard that did this to him – that did this to you.

“You BTH!” Romeo yells, storming into Taiga’s room with the fury of a thousand bulls. “You’re still lazing around?”

Taiga doesn’t respond, twirling a gun in his hand. He’s not entirely in his right mind right now, but he can still pick up “revenge” and “snipe” among the various words Romeo spews.

“You better do your part,” Romeo hisses, finally deciding to leave Taiga alone. Maybe Romeo would’ve stayed longer to nag at Taiga if Romeo were in a better state of mind. Taiga can’t really bring himself to care at the moment, though, his own state of mind is a jumbled mess.

Flashes of memories, flashes of thoughts – they alternate inside his head, before phasing out of existence. He’s not sure when it started, but his mind has been deteriorating, memories floating in and out of his head. What most would consider “common sense” is also something Taiga has been losing grasp of.

Even in spite of that, somehow, you’ve made your way into his brain, like a little parasite that burrows into his thoughts. He didn’t think he could remember someone – not in his current state of mind, anyway. He didn’t think he could form an attachment to you either, not with how he just doesn’t want to care anymore. The world’s going to burn, everything unfurling into a messy pile of futures that could be and won't be. It’s all messed up, it’s all gonna be messed up. Yet, somehow, despite all that, Taiga can’t help but think of you as some source of light, a beacon of hope that he kept around to stop him from completely drowning in the dark murkiness of the future.

“That’s it, kitty-cat,” he had said, placing you in his lap as he prepared to play another round of blackjack. “I feel like my luck’ll change if you’re around.”

“I don’t know about that,” you responded, watching as the dealer handed out everyone’s cards. You fidgeted in his lap like a cute little cat, clearly trying to break your discomfort.

“Quit failing around,” Taiga said, looking at his cards. To Taiga’s amusement, you settled in his lap to the best of your abilities, leaning into his chest. He pulled you closer, as he continued to play blackjack.

The longer he played, the more he felt some odd sense of peace with you snuggled in his lap. Your smell and warmth wrapped around him like a little security blanket. In some ways, it made him want to consume you wholly until you couldn’t think of anything else that wasn’t him. It made him hungry.

But now, there’s a hollow feeling inside of him, something that bypasses physical hunger. He hungers for your soul that’s now no longer here. The pitch-black murkiness of the future spreads even further across his eyelids, being the only thing he can see. Fate has dealt him a bad hand that he had tried to win against.

He never could win, though, could he?

“Tell me something, would you?” Taiga laughs in his empty room, eyes staring at the ceiling. He searches and searches, but can’t find any sight of you. “What could I have done different to change this outcome?”

Ren has always thought that coming to Darkwick Academy was a mistake. His experience didn’t exactly start off nicely, what with him being sorted into Jabberwock and having to deal with the annoying Jabberwock captain. All those stupid anomalous animals made it so that he rarely had time to himself, even if he tried his best to lock himself in his room.

Still, there’s a silver lining to everything. Sure, Towa keeps trying to feed some odd looking porridge. Sure, Haru is still meddlesome and annoying. But they’re… not bad. And you’re here, so it’s kind of okay.

He’s always thought that people doing annoying things for the sake of friends or whatever were delusional – frankly speaking, he could care less. Yet, when he looks at you, he thinks that maybe there are people out there who do things because they want to. Initially, you’d been somewhat of a doormat to him, but then he realized that your voluntary help came because you care about others – about him.

He can’t count the number of times you’ve come to help him out, whether it’s with the anomalous animals or a raid in his new game. You’ve just… always been there. He didn’t think it was possible, but your constant presence had carved out a you-shaped hole in his life, a place only you could fit.

So how’s he supposed to fill that emptiness now? It’s all your fault, Ren thinks. If only he hadn’t met you… but then, if he hadn’t met you, he doesn’t think he could’ve survived.

“Well done me for surviving another day…” Ren had grumbled, dusting his jumpsuit off. He hated getting dirty, but it wasn’t like he could avoid it in Jabberwock, especially if Haru was going to hound him continuously.

“Good job, Ren!”

He looked up, seeing how you still looked cute despite the mud and disheveled hair. He found it kind of unfair. “Oh, same to you,” he said. “I don’t know how you can do this stuff voluntarily.”

“The animals are cute and you guys need the help,” you replied, waving at him to bend down. “Ren, there’s some mud on your face. Do you mind if I wipe it off?”

“Huh? You’re the type who does this kind of stuff, huh?”

“Ah, sorry–”

“No, you can,” Ren said. It wasn’t like he gave you permission to help him because he wanted to feel your touch, though. It was because he couldn’t stand the mud on him. Yup. That was definitely the reason. Still, even then, he couldn’t help the way his heart thudded against his chest as you gently wiped the grime off of his face. “It’s from that stupid bull anomaly kicking dirt in my face, isn’t it?”

“I think that’s when it happened, yeah,” you responded with a laugh. “But I’m here if you need me, so I can help you.”

Ren didn’t know what to say to your honest desire to help him, it was oddly sweet of you. You had been his only real source of comfort, what with everyone else wanting so much from him. You were the only one who watched his B-horror movies with him – the only one who’d game with him.

“There, all done! Let’s go back to the dorms. I’m sure you’ll feel better after a shower.”

“...Thanks,” he muttered, walking with you back to the Jabberwock dorms. The skies were painted shades of pink and purple, the sun ready to head to bed.

“Even though it’s hard work, it’s nice to be able to see the sunset, huh?” you hummed. Ren liked the sound of your voice – not too loud like Haru’s and not too incomprehensible like Towa’s.

“Yeah.” He breathed in deeply, feeling the fresh air purify his lungs. “Every day here is a fresh hell, though.”

“Aw, Ren,” you laughed. “Yeah, it’s pretty hard work, huh?”

“...Yeah. But, you’re suffering through it with me, so I guess I’ll stick it out for a little longer…”

But how’s he supposed to stick it out now? You’re not here anymore. You’re not going to be there to help him. You’re not going to be there when he wants to watch his B-horror movies or play games. You’re not going to be there when he buys you a drink as he walks you home.

You’re not going to be here. And he didn’t even get to say goodbye…

Ren’s always been bad at goodbyes – he couldn’t even wish Calamari farewell. But he’d have rather been able to say something to you since he’s not going to be able to say anything to you ever again now. Never, ever again.

Ren doesn’t know how he’s going to survive.

Ever since Towa found out about your death, the skies in Jabberwock have been marred with thick clouds and thunder. His precious, precious Dandelion – how can you be gone? You can’t be gone yet. You haven’t told him all the love stories you had in your arsenal. You haven’t tried all the flowers Towa wants to offer you. You haven’t shown him all the reactions you’ve stored away for him to slowly bring to the surface.

You can’t be gone just yet, he won’t allow it.

Murkiness swims inside Towa’s heart as he grapples with the anger and sadness that fight and merge into an incomprehensible seed of emotion that is planted deeply within Towa’s heart. Should he just strike everyone down? You’re not here, so as long as he avoids Haru, it doesn’t matter who he hurts. It’s not like he particularly cares about anyone else on campus anyway.

But he can’t allow his emotions to explode out of him just yet, not when the tree on the hill is dying. You care about that tree as well, after all.

But then where is he supposed to spill his anger? His grief? Where does it all go?

Is this what love is? This agony?

Towa hasn’t ever really been certain about what “love” is.

“Well, love can be a lot of things,” you had said, laying by his side on the hill with the tree. You were enraptured with the stars, but Towa couldn’t help but look at you. You were so much like a dandelion, your resilience and strength shining through despite your troubles. And you were cute like a Dandelion. Your voice was nice, too, like the wind that carried dandelion seeds across the world. “Like… there’s romantic love, platonic love, familial love, and all of that, you know? Even within romantic love, it can be a lot of different things.”

“Like what?” Towa asked, making you hum in thought.

“Uh… like soulmates, I guess? Some people meet their soulmates, some don’t. But even if you don’t meet your soulmate, you can still find someone you romantically love. Maybe you’ll meet your soulmate but not realize they’re your soulmate too. It’d be hard to tell, right?”

“When you meet your soulmate, it feels like getting struck by lightning. Did you know that? Have you felt it, Dandelion?” Towa’s words made you turn your head towards him, finally paying attention to him instead of the stars. Towa liked the way you looked at him.

“I don’t think I have,” you responded, truthfully. “But I’m not in a rush. I’m sure I’ll find the person I love, even if they’re not my soulmate. Hell, maybe anyone can be your soulmate. Maybe soulmates are made when you love and grow with each other. Who knows?” A yawn escaped your mouth as you finished your thought.

“Heh heh.” Towa’s eyes crinkled at the sight. “Are you tired, Dandelion? You’re so weak. It’s cute.”

“Hey!” you laughed. “I’m getting stronger, y’know.” Flexing your arm, you show off a small bit of the muscle you’ve been building up. Towa couldn’t help but be amused at your little display of strength, miniscule in front of his own power. It was hard not to find it cute that you tried to carry so many burdens on your shoulders despite your own weaknesses. Towa could only surmise that your resilience came from the love within you. He hoped that he could be a part of that love inside of you.

“Do you like me, Dandelion?” Towa inquired, smile bright. “Because I love you!”

Towa doesn’t fully know what love is – it’s an idea he’s always been in love with, but has no experience and understanding of. You’re the closest he’s ever gotten to potentially finding the answer he’s been looking for. But now you’re gone. He doesn’t know how he’ll understand love now.

He hugs the great tree on the hill, tears trickling down his face.

When the little mermaid turned into seafoam, did she feel this way too?

Haru is always busy. He wakes up busy and sleeps busy. Nothing ever seems to stop for him, time constantly slipping through his fingers like sand no matter how fast he runs.

So why did time have to stop for you?

Even as Haru makes his rounds, Towa’s lightning in the backdrop as he works, he can’t seem to keep his mind busy enough to not think of you. Thoughts and memories of you run around his head again and again and again. They run so fast that he can’t seem to catch up.

So Haru does what he can do to maintain routine. At the very least, maintaining routine should help him adjust, shouldn’t it? But as he carries out his daily chores, all he can think about is how you’d help him around Jabberwock. How you would give him sweets to amp up his energy. How you loved Peekaboo like it was your own.

“Boo…” Peekaboo says, aware of the tenseness and wariness on Haru’s shoulders – aware of the fact you’re no longer there. Peekaboo’s tears make your death weigh even heavier on Haru’s heart as he cuddles the small beast in his arms.

“You sure are fond of the Honor Student, aren’t you, Peekaboo?” Haru had asked, looking at how Peekaboo cuddled up against your chest as you fed it. “You did nothing but bite me for the first three days after we met.”

You laughed brightly, releasing a sound that Haru was quite fond of. “The only reason Peekaboo’s not biting me is because it’s used to you, you know.”

“You reckon?” Haru responded, reaching out to pet Peekaboo who welcomed the touch.

“See? Look at that. Peekaboo loves you so much.” You gave Peekaboo a kiss on its cute fluffy forward, making the small anomalous animal make happy little squeaks. “You like your dad quite a bit, don’t you?”

The sight of you and Peekaboo together made Haru’s heart warm. He was constantly managing things by himself that he never really expected to find a stable support system. Towa, while competent, could be quite moody. Ren, too, while able bodied, refused to do a lot of the work. So, of course, work always fell on Haru’s weary shoulders. He never expected to find someone that could provide him the support he needed – like the other parent of Jabberwock. “Then you’re a bit like Peekaboo’s mother, eh?”

“I wouldn’t mind – not when my child is as cute as Peekaboo!” you replied brightly, patting Peekaboo’s back to allow it to burp. After releasing a burp too large for such a small animal, Peekaboo cuddled into you, satisfied. You hummed out a little tune as you rocked the little anomalous animal to sleep. Seeing you made a smile stretch across Haru’s face.

“Really learned the ropes here, haven’t you?” he said, gently ruffling Peekaboo’s fur. “Once we have a little cash to spare, I’ll buy you your own Jabberwock uniform!”

You’d no longer need it, though, Haru thinks, thumb brushing against the fabric of the Jabberwock uniform he had gotten for you. While you aren’t officially a part of the Jabberwock House, it’s hard not to feel like you belonged.

But you’re no longer here – you no longer belong to the living, so how could you belong to Jabberwock? Haru wishes that you were still here, though. It hasn’t even been a day, but he already misses you. Even if you couldn’t help him out every day, just getting a text message boosted his spirits. Just thinking about the fact that you’d help him with Jabberwock duties and his personal issues helped him get through his cumbersome day.

You were someone he could depend on and he wanted to be someone you could depend on. But, in the end, he couldn’t protect you.

His responsibilities sit heavily on his shoulders.

Sho has always kept himself busy. Whether it’s cooking, playing sports, training, or something else, Sho has always liked to do something. Maybe that’s why he’s in the kitchen, cooking your favorite meal, while he tries to process what the Masterpiece Newscasters had prattled on about earlier.

You’re dead?

There’s no way. You can’t be.

He thinks back to the first case you worked on together, the one with Takeru. He had failed to protect you then and vowed he wouldn’t put you in the way of danger like that again. So how? Why?

Who killed you?

Sho slams a fist on the kitchen counter, lips pressed in a thin line. Frustration bubbles inside him as curses leave his lips in rapid succession.

You can’t be dead. You can’t. Not when you’ve been working so hard. Not when you’ve been doing everything in your power to survive. Not when you’ve inspired and helped him to the point that he still feels like he has to repay you. Not when he hasn’t done or told you everything he wants to.

“Fuck!” he yells, slamming his fists on the kitchen counter once more.

You jolted when he yelled a curse, slamming a fist on the wall.

“Shit, sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you,” Sho said, sheepishly rubbing the nape of his neck. You were fun to tease and get reactions out of, but that didn’t mean he wanted to scare you.

“What’s the matter, Sho?” you asked, putting down your knife. “Tell me. I might be able to help you.”

“It’s nothing,” Sho started to say, before the look on your face made him stop. He snorted at how displeased you looked. “It’s just that some back order stuff got delayed. I won’t have enough forks for tomorrow.”

“Oh, is that it?” you asked, looking relieved. “I have a bunch of plastic forks back at the cathedral, actually. Do you want me to get them?”

“Huh? Why do you have a bunch of plastic forks laying around?”

“Uh… let’s just say that I had some ordering issues.” You waved a hand to dismiss the question. “Anyway! I can go get them.”

“Nah, let’s go together.” He shuffled around, before pulling out a helmet and tossing it to you. “Here, this helmet’s for you.”

“Oh, this one looks awesome!” you beamed, turning the helmet around in your hands. It was in your favorite color with your favorite patterns. Sho huffed out a laugh at your response. You were so cute sometimes.

“Glad you like it. C’mon.” He pushed the door to the food truck open with his foot. “Let’s go.”

“Okay!”

“After this,” he began, closing and locking the door once you were both out of the food truck, “I got some time today, so I’ll take you somewhere. Anywhere you wanna go.”

He still remembers the way your arms felt around his waist as you clung to him while he drove. He still remembers the way your eyes sparkled watching your favorite scenery. He still remembers how his heart pounded in his chest, the feeling of liberation lifting his spirits, as he drove through the streets with you clinging to him.

Your determination has always felt like freedom to Sho – it’s what inspired him to put more effort into his life at Darkwick. It’s what inspired him to take things more seriously.

But maybe he should’ve taken things more seriously when he had the chance. Now that you’re gone, so is his chance to prove himself to you. You've gone somewhere too far, somewhere no one else can reach.

This isn’t the freedom he had envisioned for you.

Whenever Sho gets too emotional, Leo is quick to make fun of him. It's stupid to get too riled up, Leo thinks. The world is boring and easy to manipulate, after all. Why should he get upset?

Leo has always been able to get what he wants – he even became vice-captain, for fuck's sake. He basically solved Takeru’s case by himself while also trying to get rid of you because your stupid stigma enhancement might overshadow him. Sure, he couldn't get rid of you then but it's not like he can't try again, especially when you keep sticking your nose where it doesn't belong.

But this isn’t how he wanted to get rid of you. Who said you could just die? It’s so stupid. It’s so dumb that it makes Leo feel angry. You stupidly kept going despite his scathing remarks, despite people walking all over you and disrespecting you, so why are you dead? You’re not allowed to be dead.

You still need to help him use Haxs. You still need to be there so he can get a sense of validation when he watches your reactions. You still need to be here because out of everyone on campus, your presence is somewhat tolerable. Who’s he gonna comfortably boss around now?

“Ha ha. You were photobombing one of my pics so I uploaded it and said I had a new girlfriend,” Leo snickered as you brushed his hair. He didn’t think you’d be so good at it, but he found that his hair was smoother when you brushed it. “10K interacts in less than an hour. Suckers.”

“Is that okay?” you asked, making Leo roll his eyes.

“It’s fine, Honor Roll. In fact, shouldn’t you be grateful?”

“That’s not what I meant.” you huffed, tugging his hair lightly as you untangled a knot. It felt nice. “I mean, are you okay? Don’t influencers get harassed if they post about their significant others?”

Leo hated this whole goody-two-shoes act you had going on. Why were you so concerned about him? It wasn’t like he was particularly nice to you and it wasn’t like you necessarily treated him better than you would anyone else. Were you just stupidly nice in general? “Being an influencer means you get hate mail anyway,” he responded, closing out of his social media app. It wasn’t really all that interesting anymore.

“Hm… I see.” You became silent, which made Leo feel oddly annoyed. “People can really suck sometimes.”

Leo snorted. He had been anything but kind to you, really, so he thought you’d have already come to that conclusion a while ago. “It’s whatever. They’re all basic.”

He knew that this was the point where you could say something about him coming to you to talk (which he would never do, barf), but you don’t. Instead, you continue to thread your fingers through his hair gently.

He hated to admit it, but it was relaxing.

“Okay, I think I’m done,” you hummed, removing your hands from him. He noted that it was slightly colder when you left, but chalked it up to the poor heat regulation in Vagastrom. “Oh, and Happy Valentine’s Day, Leo! I got you something.”

Leo turned to you curiously as he combed his fingers through his hair, which definitely felt softer. He gingerly took your offering, before his eyes widened. “This is that ultra-spicy chocolate they only sell this time of year… I’m actually genuinely stoked right now.”

“I’m glad!” you beamed. It was a smile that Leo thought was slightly less ugly than usual. In general, you had been looking slightly less ugly lately, actually. That thought made him feel nauseous.

“Wanna make a bet, Honor Roll?”

You blinked at him, suddenly looking wary. He used to think that expression was so stupid, but now he thought it was kind of cute in a dumb kind of way. “What type of bet…?”

“A bet over which will come first – me falling for you, or you getting hooked on me.”

There’s no conclusive way to find out the end to this bet now, not with you gone. But he thinks you probably got hooked on him first – after all, it’s not like he’s thinks about your stupid laugh or dumb words of encouragement when he feels down or anything. Besides, as far as the internet’s concerned, you’re already dating him.

He briefly thinks about uploading a post about your death. Those suckers online would eat it up, sending him pity and sympathy. But the thought is so unappealing that he drops it. It’s not like your death is gonna matter to other people.

After all, life sucks and then you die, right? It’s just a part of living and he’s not pathetic enough to suddenly miss you. But there’s a disgustingly hollow feeling in his chest as his thoughts ring too loudly. You’re just an NPC – aren’t NPCs supposed to live quietly in the background while the main characters get their character development or whatever?

Why couldn’t you just quietly live your life like that?

You’re so stupid.

Alan has always felt like a monster. His hands – his stigma – have crushed so many things until they’ve become nothing but dust. He’s never been proud of this strength, not when he causes so many to cower.

He had expected you to cower, too, especially after he ripped Takeru’s ghost apart in front of you, so lost in the bloodlust. But you hadn’t. You stood by his side with as much care and compassion you could muster. When he wanted to keep looking into the case of Takeru’s ghost even after it was considered “finished” by Darkwick, you offered to help him even though you didn’t need to.

Alan’s never really been a conversationalist, so he didn’t expect you to spend time with him unless it was necessary. Still, he can’t say he dislikes having you around. Even when he’s tinkering with his car, it’s nice to have you sitting nearby, talking about your day.

You’re someone he appreciates – someone who does their best no matter how dire the situation is, someone who strives to do better. How could he not grow fond of how hard you work on a daily basis?

“I pat people on the head a lot? Didn’t notice,” Alan had said, after placing his hand on your hair. He really hadn’t realized – it was a force of habit, especially when you had done such a good job. “I’m doing it again?” he murmured, removing his hand, “...Sorry.”

“It’s nothing you have to be sorry for,” you responded, honestly. “It was just an observation.”

Despite knowing that his hands were akin to weapons, Alan couldn’t help but be drawn to touching you. Unlike him, you were soft and sweet. Still, he felt guilty. He hadn’t ever wanted you to feel uncomfortable, after all.

“I actually kind of like it when you pat my head,” you said. “You’re really gentle with it, so it makes it feel like I did a good job!”

Alan would never describe his touch as gentle, but he felt like he could believe it if it came from you.“You’re doing a good job.”

“Thanks!” you responded, giving him a big smile that he couldn’t say he had seen from other people. Most other people here had cunning smiles or looked fearful of him. He liked how genuine yours looked. “I can keep trying my best because of you and the others, you know? Thanks a lot.”

Alan couldn’t really recall if he had done anything to receive this type of praise from you, but your words made him feel relaxed. He felt like you helped him feel more human. “I’m lucky I’ve got you,” he said, trying to express his gratitude. “As long as you’re with me, I feel like I won’t lose sight of who I am.”

But now you’re no longer here. It makes Alan scared of himself in a way that he’s never felt before. He had treated you gently, like you were made of glass, because he was scared he’d break you. Yet you weren’t ever scared of him breaking you. Being with you softened up his edges and made him feel more human than monster.

You’re no longer here, though.

Perhaps it has always been his fate to become a monster.

Kaito hasn’t stopped crying since he’s heard the Masterpiece Newscasters relay the news of your death. It hurts so bad.

Kaito doesn’t think he’s ever been so badly hurt in his life.

Kaito’s never been one to like pain, which is why he avoids training and going on missions. He wants to be normal and being a ghoul is abnormal. The non-ghouls around him cement that on a daily basis. Yet you’re one of the only non-ghouls who has always treated him kindly no matter what.

Even when he’s a pathetic idiot or a stupid coward, you’ve always been so patient and kind to him. Kaito has liked a lot of girls on a surface level, but his feelings towards you have evolved beyond that. He thinks you’re pretty and lovely and all of that, of course, but more than that, he thinks you’re an amazing person. Amazingly strong, amazingly hard working – you’re someone he values so deeply. Even when he knows he’s being foolish, you’re there by his side because you care about him, aren’t you? So how could he not grow to care about you? You’re the few people that he feels he can truly be close to.

“Whoa, when did it get so late?!” Kaito gasped, looking at the window outside. You two had been baking since noon, but ended up goofing off at some point, delaying the baking process. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to keep you…”

“I’m still good!” you responded, before taking a big bite out of your cookie. While chewing your sweet treat, you offered Kaito a piece, too.

“Really?” Kaito asked, taking the cookie you offered him.

“Yeah, I like spending time with you.”

Your words made Kaito’s heart swell with so much gratitude and affection that he wasn’t entirely sure what to do with himself. He always considered himself lackluster in practically everything, but he felt like he could do better and try to be better because you were there. He couldn’t help the cheesy grin that came onto his face.

“Oh, look, Kaito! The stars look so pretty!”

Kaito looked over at the large window in the kitchen, watching as the stars twinkled in the night sky.

“It kind of looks like granulated sugar if you squint, don’t you think?”

“Yeah, I can see it!” Kaito responded, before tentatively asking, “...Do you like stars?”

“I do,” you replied, taking another bite of your cookie. “Why d’you ask?”

“Oh, um,” Kaito hesitated, feeling a little bashful all of a sudden. You weren’t the type to just reject him harshly, but sometimes Kaito felt nervous in more intimate moments. When you genuinely seemed to return his affections (romantic or not) it made him feel valued as a human being, but it also made him nervous. “I was just wondering ‘cause there’s this place where you can see them really well, so I thought you’d want to go some time…”

“I would love to!” you beamed at him with a smile that could rival the sun. Kaito didn’t think the sun needed to shine if you were around. “You always do find the best places.”

Your words of validation made Kaito feel teary. You’d always been by his side, no matter what. You didn’t have to be his princess or anything like that. In fact, you’d saved him a lot of times before. Still… “I know I’m weak, and a coward,” he began, “But I really do want to become your knight in shining armor.”

In the end, Kaito never could become your knight in shining armor. Not when you’re gone like this. He couldn’t protect you and it tears him up inside. If he had trained and went on missions, would things be different? If so, why couldn’t the other ghouls help you instead? You deserve to be alive – you deserve it so much more than anyone else.

Kaito continues to wail inside his room, frustrated that he’s upset at other people not saving you – it’s him that couldn’t save you. It’s his fault. It’s all his fault and he’ll never be able to make it up to you.

He’ll never become your knight in shining armor.

For the first time since coming to Darkwick, Luca feels numb. He’s not sure how to cope with the fact that your death has come so suddenly. He had promised you that he’d help you absolve your curse, just like you promised him you’d help him subjugate a demon. Yet… you’re gone. You’re not here. You cannot keep your promise to him and he cannot keep his promise to you. It makes him feel hollow.

Luca has always felt that honesty was the best policy, which contributed to his straightlaced nature. He’s been called inconsiderate because of this and he’s lost people who could’ve been his friend. Him being a ghoul hadn’t helped, either, since he was the only ghoul back in Emrys Academy. When he came to Darkwick Academy, all he expected was to learn ways to subjugate a demon. Sure, it would’ve been nice to make friends, but Luca wasn’t going to get his hopes up. Not when he was so set on his goal to find his brother, at least.

Most aren’t understanding of Luca’s honesty and desire to bring back his brother, thinking his one track mind is a hassle. But you’ve never treated him like he was a nuisance. You’ve always greeted him brightly and worked with him. Whether you guys looked for information on curses and demons or practiced meditation for a clearer mind, you’ve been there.

But you’re not going to be there anymore, are you? Not when he’s meditating, not when he’s looking things up in the library, not when he needs the encouragement – you’re not going to be there.

He at least has hope that he’ll be able to bring his brother back. With you, he knows he can never bring you back. You’re gone, forever. You’ll never be there to experience anything with him anymore.

“We have experienced many joys and sorrows together since becoming friends. I’m very glad we met. I look forward to walking the road ahead with you,” Luca had said one day, while you two were meditating. While meditating, Luca couldn’t seem to clear his mind from thinking about you and all you’d done for him, so he thought it was only right for him to express it.

“Me too,” you responded, earnestly. Luca liked talking with you because you were candid with him, but patient. Even when he interrupted your meditation. “You’ve been a great ally to me, so thanks a lot, Luca.” You stretched your arms over your head, before staring at the setting sun. Sometimes, Luca wasn’t sure what went through your head.

“You’ve been a great ally to me as well.” Luca could scarcely remember people who tried as hard as you. He was duty-bound to a fault that he had trouble abandoning his mission, so he had trouble understanding people who wanted to run away. You were one of the few that came back despite wanting to run away. How could he not be impressed with you?

“That makes me glad to hear!” you replied, beaming brightly. Luca liked your smile. It radiated a warmth that reminded him of home. “Let’s keep doing our best!”

“Yes, let’s.” Luca watched as you kept your gaze on the setting sun. The soft colors of the sky were quite a sight to behold, but Luca wasn’t sure why it was distracting you.

“You know, Luca?” you called, as if you could read his mind. “They say that as long as you’re on Earth, you’ll see the same sun as the people you love. Isn’t that nice?”

Luca could be slow to pick up on things sometimes, but he wasn’t stupid. He could tell that those words were meant to console you after you’d been stripped from your family so suddenly (he’d come to understand the reasons for your desire to leave that day when you were working on your first case after many conversations with you). Yet, your words carried an undertone that implied that you told him about the sun to console him as well. Him, who was far from his family. Him, whose brother had gone missing. Him.

Those words were meant for him, but he cannot see the value in them now. Not when you’re no longer on this Earth. Not when you’re no longer alive. The sun still shines so brightly over Darkwick as if undeterred by your death. It pains Luca because time feels like it’s stopped for him, yet the world seems to move on.

Luca closes his eyes, heart throbbing.

“I’m sorry… Yet again I have failed to protect the people most important to me…”

The first thing Tohma does when he hears of your death is smoke to calm his nerves. He’s counting down the minutes until Jin calls him, but Tohma can’t seem to shake the sudden burst of numbness that shoots through his veins.

He hates to admit it, but your death has shaken him up more than he’d like. Of course, he’ll have to hide it. He’ll have to get a hold of himself – especially since everyone else will be in a tizzy. But even though he knows this, he’s having a hard time controlling his own emotions.

You’re the only one who is stupidly earnest in everything you do, allowing him bits of amusement in his life. You’re the only one that’s helped him feel like he could forget everything he’s got to do and be. You’re the only one who tries to lift the burden on his shoulders. You’re the only one and it makes Tohma’s lungs feel empty.

What vermin had killed someone as lovely as you?

“Welcome to high society,” Tohma had said, taking your hand in his for a dance. “That outfit suits you well. With that poise, you’ll have no trouble fitting in here.” And he was right, you looked beautiful, like the belle of the ball.

“Aha, sure,” you murmured, wincing as you stepped on his foot. “Oh god, I’m so sorry! I’m still so bad at this…”

“Inexperience is not a crime,” Tohma responded, twirling you in his arms. “The important thing is choosing to not remain ignorant when you don’t know something.” While most would assume Tohma was talking about your dancing capabilities, you knew that he meant something beyond that, too. You were smart like that, after all, and so hardworking. You chose to not remain ignorant.

“You’re right.” You nodded. “I’m gonna do my best.”

“I look forward to your efforts,” he hummed. “And in times of difficulty, I hope you’ll turn to those around you for help. I will be there to keep you safe.”

Tohma takes another drag of his cigarette, watching as the smoke fills the room. He told you he’d protect you. He told you, didn’t he? And yet he couldn’t.

Perhaps a lowly servant like him could never have protected you in the first place.

At the news of your death, Jin’s first move is to slash though the expensive furniture in his room, unsure of where else to let his emotions explode. His hand tightens around his sword as he stabs his sword in the ground, visualizing whoever had the audacity to touch what is his.

How dare they hurt you? How dare they take you away from him?

You, who’s been so stupidly obedient to him without any expectation of riches or glory. You, who’s been stupidly kind to him despite his terse nature. You, who’s been by his side without complaint as long as he ordered it.

“...I was too active yesterday. Massage me, servant,” Jin muttered, rolling onto his stomach to give access to his back. Without a word of complaint, you do as you’re told, though Jin couldn’t say you could be a masseuse anytime soon. “...What the hell was that? Put some muscle into it.”

“What? I’ve been told I give really good massages, though.”

Jin frowned. “From?”

“My dad.”

Jin snorted out a laugh. “Try harder.”

“Fine, fine,” you muttered, stretching your arms in front of you. “I’m gonna put my back into it!” Jin wondered if you’d actually be able to give him a proper massage, but the effort in itself was amusing (cute, even). Still, regardless of your massages, it was nice to have your hands on his back. He liked being close to you. “How was that?”

“It was fine.”

“What!” you exclaimed, incredulous, before grumbling, “You give a guy a massage and all he does is say it’s bad. Not even a word of thanks.”

With how you were yapping, you must’ve gotten quite comfortable with him. Jin couldn’t say he disliked it. “Never learn, do you?” he asked, rolling onto his back so that he can pull you on to the bed next to him. “I don’t take you being here for granted. I know it won’t last forever.”

Your eyes widened. “Huh?”

“That’s all I’m going to say.”

“Wha– you’re so–” you huffed, before shaking your head, seemingly pleased. “Fine, you win, your majesty. I suppose it's time for this servant to leave.” You made a move to get up, but Jin stopped you.

“I’ve got plans early tomorrow. Your house is too far. Stay here tonight.”

He still can’t forget the way you looked that night – bashful, sweet. He wanted to lock you in with him so that he could have you for as long as possible. Maybe he should’ve. He never took your existence for granted, valuing every second he’s spent with you, but when he said that he knew that your relationship wouldn’t last forever, he never thought it’d be because someone killed you. The thought makes hot rage course through his veins again.

He’s going to kill whatever bastard took you from him.

Faintly, your sage’s ring glows on your finger.

It asks you a question it’s asked you many times before: “What do you desire?”

You answer the question exactly as you’ve answered it before: “I want to go back.”

The sage ring glows brighter in response.

You wake up on a train.

Your phone beeps.

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