#THE STARING AT THEIR HANDS BEING SEPARATED

[itsnesss]

hii, i already love your works sm and i was wondering if i could request a jun-ho fic where him and fem!reader search his brother and they can’t keep their hands off of each other? ;) and one day after reader teases jun-ho too much he just fucks her into the bathroom? i’m so sorry if that sounded weird 😭

love ya <333

𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐥 | hwang jun-ho × fem!reader

summary | the request

warnings | smut, explicit content, tension-filled interactions, fingering, p in v, unprotected sex, slight power dynamics

word count | 2.5 k

author's note | it would help me a lot if you liked, commented and reposted so that more people read what I write and don't forget to follow me thanks ᡣ𐭩

The search for his brother has become more than a mission. It has stopped being just a matter of finding him. Every minute by his side, every stolen glance, every shared sigh... makes you forget everything else. The obsession with finding him has given way to a palpable tension between you and Jun-ho. At every corner, every place where they stop, their hands meet by accident, their bodies brush against each other as if it were inevitable. As if there were something beyond the search, something you can't control.

On one of those long and frustrating nights. They had followed a lead about Jun-ho's brother that had taken them to a small town, but the contact never showed up. They ended up in a rundown motel, sharing a room because the budget couldn't stretch any further.

You had tried to sleep, but between the noise of the old fan and the feeling of Jun-ho just a couple of meters away, it was impossible. He was sitting on the edge of the bed, reviewing some papers under the dim light of the bedside lamp, frowning as always.

"You should rest," you said from your bed, your voice heavy with sleep and annoyance. Keep staring at it won't make your brother magically appear.

Jun-ho looked up, clearly irritated, but also a bit tired.

"I can't".

You got up, leaning against the headboard of the bed, crossing your arms.

"You're such a stubborn one, you know?" you joked, although there was some truth in your words. "You always want to carry everything on your own".

"And you always have something to say, don't you?" he replied, his tone sharp but without real anger.

The conversation continued for a while, small jibes that gradually eased the day's tension. But as they talked, the atmosphere changed. There was something different in the way he looked at you that night, something beyond fatigue or worry.

When you stood up to approach his side, intending to snatch the papers from his hands to force him to rest, his fingers brushed against yours. It was a brief, accidental contact, but the heat it generated made both of them freeze, looking at each other in silence.

"What?" you asked, your voice softer, almost a whisper.

He didn't respond. Instead, he set the papers aside and leaned towards you. The moment was so unexpected that you didn't have time to think. His lips met yours, soft at first, as if he were tasting something he had longed for too long. But the kiss soon became more intense, more needy.

His hands moved up your arms, then to your waist, pulling you closer. You didn't resist. On the contrary, your fingers tangled in his hair as the heat in your chest intensified. You were kneeling in front of him, and you felt his heavy breath against your lips when they barely separated for a moment.

"This isn't right," he murmured, though he made no effort to move away.

"Then stop doing it," you replied, challenging him, and kissed him again, losing yourself in the way his body molded to yours.

That night didn't go beyond that. Although his hands roamed your back, your legs, and his lips left a burning trail on your neck, both stopped before crossing a line they knew would complicate everything. But after that, nothing was ever the same again. The casual touches felt more charged, the glances lingered too long, and the desire between you kept growing.

Jun-ho has never been so straightforward, but you know he is as caught up in this tightrope as you are. The nights spent reviewing clues become an excuse to be close, too close, as the hours fade away and the only thing left between you is unresolved desire.

Today is no different. You are in his apartment, a room cluttered with the mountains of papers they have accumulated during the search, and a constant feeling of discomfort that neither of you can ignore. The brush of his hands as he hands you a cup of coffee, the gentle touch of his fingers as he passes you a photo... everything feels magnified.

"What?" Jun-ho asks, raising an eyebrow when you stare for a second longer than necessary. As if you were evaluating every detail of him, every little gesture that only intensifies what you already know.

"Nothing". You shrug, but the mocking smile that forms on your lips says the exact opposite. There's something about him that makes you feel... powerful. As if you could play with him, put him to the test.

"Don't look at me like that."His voice is deeper than it should be, and his gaze darkens, as if he were waiting for one more provocation. And you know it. You know you did it on purpose.

You've seen him hesitate before, his self-control always on the edge, but this time, you can't help it. You know that what is happening between you is more than just a simple attraction. It's a whirlwind of emotions, of confusion, and above all, of something neither of you can ignore.

You don't stop, and neither does he. The tension remains constant, growing as time passes. The brush of his body near yours while you search for more clues sends shivers down your spine, but you can't pull away. You can't stop looking for an excuse to be near him.

Jun-ho walks back and forth, reviewing papers and murmuring something about clues and possible locations. You see him so serious, so engrossed in his detective role, that you can't resist making a comment to annoy him.

"Are you always this intense?" you ask, resting your chin on your hand.

He stops and glances at you sideways, bewildered.

"What do you mean?"

You smile, innocent but with a touch of mischief.

You know, all that frowning, the rigid posture, the constant "I'm solving an important case" face. I wonder if you ever relax... or if you look the same when you're, you know, at other times.

The insinuation in your voice is impossible to ignore. His eyes narrow, and you see his jaw tighten.

"In other times?" he repeats, clearly caught between confusion and challenge.

You shrug, feigning innocence.

"You know, more... private moments. Are you just as intense or do you follow a whole procedure?"

His reaction is immediate. He leaves the papers on the table and walks towards you with determined steps. Before you can get up, he leans over you, his hands resting on either side of your body.

"Do you want to find out?"

You are left speechless, but he doesn't give you time to respond. In a swift motion, he grabs your wrist and takes you to the bathroom.

The feeling of having him so close, his body pressed against yours, gives you goosebumps. The desire you had contained for so long bursts forth in a wave of need.

"Is this private?" he asks, his lips brushing against yours as he unbuttons his shirt.

"Yes," you affirm, your breath quickening.

"Well". He smiles, his eyes shining with a predatory glint. "So yes, I am just as intense at other times... even more so".

And with those words, his mouth meets yours in a passionate kiss. His hands glide over your body, exploring every part of you, while yours cling to his shoulders with need. The bathroom fills with our sounds, with gasps and sighs as we lose ourselves in this long-repressed need.

"Take off your shirt," he whispers in your ear, his warm breath on your skin, and you obey without thinking. It slides off your shoulders and falls to the ground, and before you can speak, your fingers sink into his hair and you pull him towards you again.

"Is this what you wanted?" he gasps on your lips, his fingers climbing up your ribs and rubbing your skin in circular motions.

You stop. The question makes something change in you. It's as if a veil has been lifted, and everything suddenly became clear.

"I want more," you reply, sincere, not caring that he notices what you feel. I want to feel you. I want to make you moan. I want you to be unable to pull away from me.

And his eyes shine. Her gaze turns dark, predatory, and her lips curve into a smile.

"Wow… that's interesting". He nods, his fingers caressing your lips. "Fortunately, I can fulfill your wishes".

And before you can respond, his fingers slide over your pants. The sound of the zipper opening is loud in the silence of the bathroom, and you barely have time to process it before his hands grab your thighs and sit you on the edge of the sink.

"Strip," he orders, his eyes shifting to your pants, and you don't hesitate to obey.

You remove them immediately, and your underwear slips off with them, revealing your naked body. His eyes roam over every part of you, as if it were the first time he sees you, and his breath quickens suddenly.

"You look beautiful" he gasps, his voice deeper now, filled with need. "So beautiful..."

And again, his lips meet yours in a wild, hungry kiss. His hand moves up your thigh and grabs your leg, pressing it against his waist.

"Do you like it?" he whispers, his hand rubbing you. "Do you like what I'm doing to you?"

You nod, and his smile curves again. His fingers touch you in a way that makes your feet go cold and you tense up.

"That's interesting" he pants. "I think I'm going to need a bit more information".

And with his words, a finger begins to penetrate you. The movement is slow, as if he is unsure, but soon, his fingers begin to move in circular motions, penetrating you again and again, and you curl up, wrapping your legs around his fingers.

"Is this better?" she asks, her voice tense with desire.

"Mmm" you respond with a gasp, your fingers gripping his shoulders.

"Mmm what?"

"Yes…" you manage to say, your breath now more rapid. The pleasure is intense, it makes every part of you tense in an exquisite way. "Continue".

And he does it, his finger moving faster and deeper each time. His lips slide down to your nipples and he begins to suck on them, drawing them in with slow movements. The pleasure makes you arch towards him, trying for more, but his hand suddenly stops.

"Is that what you want?" he whispers. Do you want me to touch you?

"Yes, please" you gasp, pleading. "Don't stop..."

And his hand starts to move again. This time it is two fingers that penetrate you, slowly, but increasingly intensely. You arch towards him, with a cry of pleasure.

"And this?" Jun-ho whispers. Do you want more?

"Yes" you manage to respond, every part of you vibrating with pleasure. "Please".

"Please?" he repeats. I like that.

His fingers stop again, but before you can protest, his body shifts position, lowering slowly, and his mouth meets your sex. His lips begin to suck you, licking every part of you with slow, exquisite movements. Your body arches towards him again, trying more, and his fingers penetrate you once more.

The sensation is indescribable. The pressure inside you, the heat in your breasts, the sensation of his lips on you... everything comes together in an intense, exquisite pleasure.

"Jun-ho" you sob, your fingers sinking into his hair. "Jun-ho!"

"What?" he whispers, his eyes fixed on you.

"More... more..." you manage to stammer, trying to describe the pleasure.

And his mouth fills you up again. His lips suck you with strong movements, his fingers penetrating you faster and faster. Your body shakes with pleasure, but his mouth doesn't stop. He sucks you with frantic movements, devours you with the hunger of a man who hasn't eaten in days. His fingers caress you, touch you in the most exquisite way, and suddenly, the pleasure is overwhelming.

"Oh, god!" you moan, your fingers tugging at his hair. "Yes... yes..."

And everything fades away. The pleasure bursts into an intense orgasm, making you arch against his fingers. Your body shakes back and forth, trying to rid itself of the pleasure, but his fingers and mouth hold you there, not letting you go.

Finally, the orgasm fades, and your body collapses onto the sink. His fingers withdraw, and his mouth kisses you gently. Then, a moment later, his arms wrap around you and lift you, sitting you back on the sink.

"I think you're the best meal I've ever had," he says, his smile mischievous.

You smile too.

"You're not bad either" you tell him.

"No?" He approaches you with slow steps. "Does that mean you might want more?".

You smile at him again.

"It depends". You approach him, wrapping your arms around his waist. "What do you have to offer me?"

"Oh, I think I have something you might find interesting…" He nods, smiling. "Do you want to see it?"

You nod your head, and immediately, his fingers begin to lower his belt. He lowers his pants and lets them fall to the ground. And there it is, his member, erect, strong, ready to penetrate you.

"Do you want to try this?" gasps Jun-ho, his breath already quickened. Do you want to feel me inside you?

You smile mischievously.

"Hmm…" you respond. "I don't know, what do you offer me if I try it?"

"If you try it, I promise you'll feel something incredible". His fingers begin to caress your thighs again. "I'm going to make you feel things you've never imagined".

"Hmm…" you whisper. "Well, then it seems fine to me. I'm going to give it a try".

And immediately, you get up from the sink and approach Jun-ho. His arms close around you and push you against the bathroom wall. His eyes fixate on you, shining with intense desire as he leans against you, his member brushing against your core.

"Do you want?" he whispers.

"Yes".You nod your head. "I want!"

And her hips move forward. His member penetrates you in a gentle yet intense manner. The contact is exquisite, making you sigh with pleasure and fall into his arms.

"Is that okay?" she gasps between breaths.

"Hmm... yes" you murmur, your fingers encircling his shoulders. "Continue..."

And his hips begin to move again. His member penetrates you harder, deeper, and with each movement, the pleasure within you grows. His fingers grip your legs, lifting them towards his waist for easier access, and you let yourself go, trying to absorb all the pleasure you can.

"Do you like this?" he whispers again, his breath quickening more and more. Do you like how I touch you?

"Yes... yes..." you murmur, your breathing also becoming increasingly rapid.

"Well —he gasps with a sigh." Then I'm going to give you more... much more...

Her hips start to move again. This time his member penetrates you harder than before, faster. The pleasure is indescribable, it makes your body tense and contract towards him.

"Oh!" you moan between sighs. "Like this!"

"Like this?" he gasps again. "Do you want it like this?"

"Yes... Yes..." you respond, your fingers gripping it tighter—. Yes!

And he doesn't say anything more. His hips keep moving that way, with quick and deep movements. His arms wrap around you, holding you against him, and your fingers clutch his shoulders. The pleasure is increasingly intense, increasingly unbearable, but his body does not stop.

Finally, his breathing quickens too much, each of his movements becomes increasingly rough, and his member begins to pulse inside you.

"God!" she screams, her breath ragged.

And everything suddenly explodes. His member hardens and begins to release his semen into a hot river. His body shakes back and forth, trying to absorb every sensation, and the pleasure makes you let go with a scream. The orgasm is strong, intense, making your fingers grip him tighter and the walls surround him.

Finally, everything disappears again. Her hips come to a stop, her breathing returns to normal, and her arms relax. Her eyes, however, continue to shine. He approaches you and kisses you on the cheek.

"Was it how you wanted it?" he whispers between your lips.

You smile mischievously again.

"Hmm… I think it was better". You slip out of his arms and start getting dressed. "The thing is, I can't have this whenever I want".

He smiles again.

"That's easy to fix" he says, while also getting dressed. I can give you as much as you want.

"I hope so". And immediately you walk away from him, leaving the bathroom without waiting to see his reaction.

"Don't worry, you won't have to wait long," you hear his words behind you, and a smile curves your lips.

[nachrosas]

SURPRISE DINNER | a.hotchner x reader

summary: in which you surprise aaron at the fbi headquarters with a nice dinner.

pairing: aaron hotchner x reader

content warnings: none, just pure fluff!

word count: 880

a/n: trying one more time writing for aaron! i hope you guys like it! feedback is always appreciated! also, my inbox is always open to chat! till the next one!

The silence of the BAU office at that time always gave it a graveyard feel. The only sound came from the keys being pressed and the occasional rustle of papers. The cold white light of the fluorescent lamps reflected off the piles of reports that had accumulated on Aaron's desk. He rubbed his eyes, tired of staring at the computer screen, and stretched his stiff shoulders. The clock on the screen read 9:30 pm, but for him, it could have been any time — since he'd been sitting in that chair since 8:30 am.

The bullpen door opened with a slight creak, but he ignored it, as he was used to the sporadic movements of agents at that time. However, it wasn't until he smelled a familiar and inviting aroma that he decided to raise his head, completely intrigued.

And there you were, walking calmly towards his office with a cooler bag in one hand and a determined smile on your face. You were dressed casually, wearing your favorite sweatshirt, making you look a little out of place in that formal FBI environment, but that didn't stop your illustrious presence from brightening up the office.

Aaron frowned, surprised and a little alert. He stood up slowly, came around the desk, and smiled in her direction.

“What are you doing here?”

“Duh, rescuing you, of course,” you replied with a laugh, placing the bag on the table. “I think a special agent deserves a real dinner once in a while too.”

He looked around, as if worried about someone watching the scene, but the few agents still on the floor didn't seem to care what was going on in the boss's office. Still, his lips tightened into a line.

“Honey, you didn't have to…”

“Aaron.” you interrupted him gently, leaning a little towards him and resting your hand on his shoulder. Your eyes met his, and your tone was firm but gentle. “Do I really need to remind you that even the toughest agents need a moment's respite?”

He sighed, the resistance visible on his face diminishing little by little. “I'm not going to be able to convince you to leave without doing this, am I?”

You just smiled as you started taking the pots and plates out of the bag. “Not a chance.”

The brief smile that threatened to appear on his face made it clear to you that all your efforts had paid off.

Aaron watched as you organized everything in the small free space on the table, opening the containers and separating the cutlery with calm movements. The tension in his shoulders gradually eased. The aroma of home-cooked food began to spread throughout the office.

“You did all this?” he asked quietly, with a hint of incredulity.

“Of course!” you replied with a simple smile. ”Someone had to make sure you didn't spend the night eating nothing but junk food.”

He let out an almost imperceptible sigh and took the fork you offered. The first bite was accompanied by a brief closing of his eyes, and when he opened them again, there was something different about his expression. A small smile — shy but genuine — appeared at the corner of his lips.

“Is it good?” you asked, already knowing what the answer would be, but you wanted to hear it come out of his mouth.

“It's… perfect.” he admitted, almost hesitantly, as if he wasn't used to receiving this kind of affection from you. He looked down at his plate for a few seconds before continuing. “I don't know when I last had a meal like this… made by someone who really cares.”

The words were simple, but they carried something deeper underneath. He didn't need to explain. You knew the weight he carried on a daily basis, trying to balance his responsibilities as head of an FBI unit and father of a 7-year-old boy, without letting either slip through his fingers.

“You deserve this, Aaron, and much more,” you said, sincerely, as you sat down next to him on the small office sofa.

The conversation flowed lightly, breaking the usual silence of the office. For a few minutes, the weight of the piles of papers and pending reports seemed to disappear. He even made a joking comment about how it had perhaps taken the fun out of the quick meals he usually had.

You realized that the clock had gone forward more than you would have liked, and stood up to start packing the empty containers back into the bag. Aaron stood there, looking at you with a mixture of gratitude and something you couldn't quite identify.

“Thanks for that.” he said, holding your hand briefly before you could leave. The sincerity in his voice softened the firmness in his touch. “You don't know how much this means to me.”

You smiled, squeezing his hand lightly in response, before letting go and starting your walk towards the elevators. As you turned to look at him once more, you saw that he had already returned to work, but this time his posture was less rigid and his countenance lighter.

As you left, you were sure that he could still taste dinner, and your presence, like a small flame in the midst of the chaos that always surrounded him.

[grandline-fics]

Can you do the nightmare wedding scenario with Luffy, Sanji, and Ussop

DESCRIPTION: They have a nightmare that you marry someone else

WARNINGS: little bit of brief angst/insecurity but it's kept light for the most part

CHARACTERS: Luffy, Usopp | Law, Zoro, | Ace, Shanks, Mihawk, Kid, Katakuri

WORDS: 1,653

A/N: Thank you for the request. I loved the past versions of this prompt so I was happy to return to it. Sadly I wasn't able to think of something unique for Sanji so left it to just Luffy and Usopp. It's my first time writing for Usopp so hopefully I got his character right and that you like what I came up with for this.

*REQUESTS ARE OPEN*

DIRECTORY | PROMPT LIST

———————

LUFFY

Love was a word Luffy knew a great deal about in all of its various meanings and depths. He loved freedom and adventure, discovering each new island and opportunity to explore like a restless electricity ran through his nerves. His love for food and fun was quite literally sating a deep hunger leaving him content and filled. The love he had for his brothers was deep and intense, sadly sometimes painful but it was a hurt he bore willingly and without complaint. His crew and friends brought out a love that left him feeling stronger, fierce, and determined to protect. 

You were all those feelings wrapped into one amazing person that Luffy knew he couldn’t and wouldn’t be without. Being separated from you for two years and losing Ace had been the massive wake up call to his feelings for you. He truly didn’t think he would ever have to endure that sharp twisting feeling of shock and pain when it came to you again. Oh how wrong he was because now here he stood looking at your smiling so brightly and staring at only Trafalgar Law with your entire attention raptly on the other Captain, your hand interwoven and anchored into his; refusing to let go. 

On the one hand, seeing you smile made Luffy want to smile too but on the other hand, why did you have to be looking at his supposed ally like that? Robin had warned him that pirate alliances usually ended up in betrayal but this was a hundred times worse than what he ever could have imagined. Then it got worse when Luffy stared in horror as you and Law exchanged rings and vowed to be each other’s spouse forever and complete the declaration with a kiss. 

With a yell Luffy woke, launching himself out onto the floor. In his dream he’d tried to leap between you and Law before your lips could connect but he had been so tightly invested in it that his actions had carried through his subconscious. Groggily he rubbed his eyes and got to his feet blearily looking around the empty Crow’s Nest. The memory of the dream fresh in his mind, Luffy wasted no further time in racing down the mast and to the sleeping quarters. 

The door slammed open loudly causing you to wake with a jolt, eyes barely opened and alarmed when you felt someone leap onto your bed and grip your shoulders. Instinctively you grabbed the person’s wrists and blinked through your tiredness to become even more confused to see Luffy staring at you intensely. “Wh- what’s… Luffy? What’s wrong?”

“As your Captain you’re not allowed to marry Tra-guy ever!” His order did nothing to help bring you out of the heavy fog of sleep. You scrunched your face up in confusion, you recognised the words but the context of the order just didn’t make sense. 

“Marry Law?” You mumbled with a yawn. “What’d’you mean?”

“I know he’s smart and whatever but this is your crew. You can’t leave-”

“Luffy.” You stopped your Captain with a light squeeze of his hand and smiled at him sleepily. “I’m not leaving the crew, relax.” Your voice was soothing at it was a relief to hear you say you weren’t leaving but still Luffy couldn’t shake the uncomfortable twist in his stomach. 

Feeling your hands over his helped with ridding him of the image of Law’s hands over yours. Luffy took a breath and kept his gaze on you, heavily frowning at your lips, the image of Law’s about to claim yours making him glare. Before you could ask what was wrong you blinked in surprise when Luffy kissed you. It wasn't the first time you’d kissed, your relationship with the Captain was one neither of you really thought to put a label on, just deciding to enjoy how things naturally progressed. This was the first time however that Luffy’s lips pressed against yours so insistently, like he was trying to prove something.

Given his confusing statement about you and Law marrying you could connect the dots now that you’d woken enough. With a smile you pulled back and lifted your hands away to wrap Luffy into a hug and lay back down on the bed. Your smile grew when Luffy adjusted his arms to hold you tightly, your body already feeling the pull to go back to sleep. As you smiled contently you tucked your head under Luffy’s chin, falling back to sleep to the sleepy mumbles of your Captain cursing out Law for being an idiot if he thought he could ever have you.

USOPP

“Usopp! I have to tell someone before I burst!” Your excited voice shot through his concentration as he sat working in his workshop. Immediately Usopp turned to smile at you, his own excitement mirroring yours. You were truly the only one that was capable of stealing his attention no matter what the situation. You slid to a stop in front of him, hands reaching out instinctively to take his into your hold, your excitement only growing with each second. “I can’t believe this is happening!”

“Well come on, tell me already!” Usopp laughed trying to keep you concentrated on the mystery topic that he now couldn’t wait to be part of. 

“I’m getting married!” Your exclamation caused Usopp’s face to freeze in shock, his previous smile twitching into one of disbelief, thinking you were pulling a prank on him. How could you get married? He hadn’t proposed to you yet. While you’d both been together for a while and he loved you, he’d been too much of a coward to say those three little but massive words to you. Mostly he told himself it was too soon, really though he’d convinced himself that if he did confess the full weight of his feelings to you, you’d crush him by saying you didn’t feel the same.

“O-oh! Th-that’s…great!” He forced out tightly, unwilling to see you upset for not taking your news well. “Wh-who’s the lucky guy?“

“That’s the amazing thing!” You all but swooned as you thought about your betrothed. “He’s a real hero and warrior! So brave and strong, you’ll love him! Promise you’ll come to the wedding, please Usopp?” Your request was spoken so sweet and earnestly that again, despite the painful punch to his heart Usopp refused to show it. Unable to say no he ground his teeth together before forcing himself to nod, flinching when you let out a cheer and threw your arms around him to hug him tightly, thanking him.

In the blink of an eye you were no longer hugging him and Usopp was no longer in the workshop. Instead he stood on the deck of the Sunny, hearing the rest of the crew laughing happily as they waited for the wedding to start. Usopp kept his head down, trying to avoid the reality of the situation for as long as he could. When your laughter sounded Usopp slowly looked up and let out a shriek of shock to see who your were marrying standing at the altar, arms folded tightly and face completely hidden by the all too familiar mask. “Sogeking?!” He demanded in disbelief managing to stagger over to you, his head spinning at the development. How was this even possible? “You’re marrying Sogeking?”

“Of course!” You beamed, oblivious to Usopp’s distress as you left Usopp’s side to approach his secret persona. “Look at him. Isn’t he perfect? There’s no one else I’d ever consider marrying. Only him.”

With a gasp Usopp woke and covered his eyes, slowly working on calming his breathing as he realised everything was a dream. Just a stupid dream. Sighing in relief he rolled his eyes at his own silly mind. Of course it was a dream. Then his mind began to stir up uncomfortable thoughts once more. Why were you with a coward like him? He wouldn’t blame you for choosing someone else to marry. Just as he was about to spiral more, he jumped in surprise when you rolled over in your sleep, your arms tightening over his as your lay your head on his shoulder. As if sensing how tense he was, you stirred and woke with a small sleepy hum. “Usopp?”

“I’m okay…”

“Liar.” You sleepily mumbled, pulling yourself closer lifting your head up to press a small kiss to his cheek. “Bad dream?”

“Yeah…” Usopp sighed, moving to hold you close. You always could see through him. Swallowing hard, he began to think of the deeper meaning the dream must have had and cleared his throat. Bracing himself he blurted out. “I love you.”

“Usopp.” Usopp flinched and prepared himself for your rejection but it didn’t come. Instead you sat up to face him fully, smiling happier than he’d ever seen you show before. “I love you too.”

“Thank goodness! I thought you’d call me an idiot or something…” He sighed with a nervous laugh. You smiled softly, shaking your head at your boyfriend’s timid nature. You knew he could be brave when he needed to be, it was just a shame he didn’t have the same amount of faith in himself that you had in him. “Also, you should know I’m Sogeking. No one else. If anyone says they are, they’re lying. Okay?”

You stared at Usopp in surprise. You and everyone on the crew- except for Luffy and Chopper- knew that Usopp was Sogeking. It was obvious but you didn’t have the heart to disappoint him by telling him that so instead you slowly nodded. “Thank you for trusting me with the truth. You really must love me to tell me that.”

“Of course I do!” Usopp declared, offering you a proud grin as you kissed his forehead and lay back down, allowing him to hold you close and sleep dreams better than his last one.

——————————————-

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[writingwisterias]

I was daydreaming today at college and thought about Leon absolutely ravaging me in my wedding dress... Would you be able to write the reader teasing him at the wedding all evening long, feeling him up, making him jealous until the end of the night when he finally gets you alone and just goes totally feral?! Your work is amazing, please never stop 🥰😌😵‍💫💦

YES, I CAN ANON!

I love this!!! I hope I did the idea justice! I did Death Island Leon because I rewatched it and he's on my mind. I rambled sorry this took so long, I needed it to be done right!

Warnings: Smut, MNDI, Fluff, Teasing, Praise Kink, Cowgirl, Oral (F receiving) Jealousy, Hidden touches, Comfort

Death Island! Leon Kennedy x AFAB!Reader

Words: 3.8k

Leon never thought he would get this chance, marriage was always just a distant dream, one that always seemed impossible with his job and lifestyle. Until you came along and made him feel easy to love for once. Your smile manages to brighten any mood he might be in. His home was dark and bare now filled with warmth and love, decorated with things that reminded him of how far you had both become. He made it his life's mission to ensure you never stopped smiling and never faced anything like he had. Your protection was his top priority as he kept you separate from his work life, a little hidden secret in this world. One for just him to enjoy.

The isle was decorated in soft greens and browns, the sun felt warm for once as it fell over his features. It felt like God was finally giving him a break from the whirlpool of life he was handed. He couldn't stop the swaying of his feet or fiddling with the tie that felt too tight around his neck. Neither of you wanted a big wedding, limiting your guest list to just close friends and family but the room still felt full. Despite the small number of people you had invited, their adoring stares at him and their whispers about what you might look like today didn't help. Leon didn’t care what dress you picked out, he gave you the budget to get the biggest one if you wanted it. All that mattered to him was that you were happy and at the end of the day were with him in an enteral promise. One he knew went deeper than simple love. 

Ignoring the waves of anxiety he felt, all the attention began to feel too much without you by his side to make it more bearable. Leon made sure to put on the biggest smile that he could muster up as he watched the wedding party begin to filter through the aisle. Soft instrumental music complimented them as they all walked down. The once red carpet is now being decorated with a range of petals as your niece went down alongside her brother who carried the rings. Everyone’s attention was drawn to them, their adorable stumbles thankfully gave him a chance to let out a shaky breath before he had to reach for the velvet box from the young boy. It felt heavy, similar to the feeling when he had the last velvet box in his pocket; a decision he would never come to regret in his life. He had thought about this moment for months, his dreams being filled by adding to the collection of rings he had given to you, all in a romantic promise that was tying your souls together forever.

Leon had memorized the order in which everyone was going to be coming through, all of them finding their place on the respected sides. Their smiles warmed his heart at how happy they were for the both of you. The love crashed over him in waves as your family welcomed him in with open arms. The change in song made his heart rate begin to pick up as you walked down. You looked like an angel, one that was finally ready to take him to salvation - a gift sent from the heavens for all of his hard work and trauma. You smiled at Leon, watching as his eyes twinkled with tears of happiness. He deserved this; there was no one more than deserving of your love. Your answer to his proposal was the easiest choice you had ever made. Just as you were for Leon he was the same for you. 

You could feel his hands shake as he lifted your veil, the sound of everyone around you melting away as he gazed upon your features like he was memorising them despite knowing that he does it every time he wakes up before you in the morning. You watched as his smile grew softer, his body trying to reign in his emotions as the tears fell slightly down his face. You felt the ghost of his breath against your palm as you wiped it away for him. Your touch is just a ghost of the love he knew you had for him. His love was always intoxicating to you. Helping your brain become fuzzy so you forget about the world around you. The nerves you had at the start of the day are now settled in a calm and peaceful feeling. That's what you loved about him, his endless ability to ease your anxiety. He was your bridge, your stable wall to lean on if you needed it. Leon had given you everything you needed and more in life; you will always be thankful for that. 

Your hands slotted in his perfectly; Leon was grasping them tightly in case you would fade away right in front of him like you were some dream he would wake up from. The vows you shared today would never be broken; the endless devotion you both shared was witnessed by everyone else in the room. “I love you” You whispered to him leaning on his shoulder as you both waited for the end of the ceremony. Leon glanced down at you, his eyes sparkling with more unshed tears, his eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiled. “I love you more” 

It felt like the world stopped as you turned to face each other before you finally kissed marking your new journey as Mr and Mrs Kennedy. Neither of you needed this, the large fancy wedding or the certificate you were now both signing with shaky hands and large smiles. You both know the love you shared was solidified with the care you put towards each other in each other darkest moments. There was no end to this life without Leon being by your side.

You grasped his hand tightly as you both ran down the aisle, your laughter filling the air mixing in with the confetti that fell around you. Leon pulled you back into him, greedy for another kiss before the true celebrations began, the fabric of your dress swirling around his feet as you collided with him. 

The rest of the evening felt like a blur, the both of you being dragged around by family and friends for endless photos. The camera flash soon became a permanent fixture every time you blinked. Yet, as everyone settled down for the evening meal, plates of food were being wafted around the room and the waitresses handed them out; Leon didn’t miss the longing looks you gave him. The squeezes of his thigh underneath the table as your hand inched higher and higher. Your delicate fingers brushed along the front of his trousers all whilst glancing at him with an adoring and innocent smile. It was driving him insane with how casual you were being about it. “You alright there honey? You look a little flustered” you giggled in his ear, leaning towards him. His smirk grew on his face, his eyes hidden by his dark hair as he turned to look at you. “Someone seems to be starting something I’m not sure they can finish” He teased. Normally Leon would have touched your skin and teased the fabric of your underwear groaning at the feel of the arousal he knew was drenching the thin fabric but your damn dress was too big. He was beaten by layers of white fabric. 

“We’ve still got many hours before I can show you what's underneath this dress” you whispered again. His face flushed - turning a dark pink as his brain tried to decipher what you meant. To his credit he recovered quickly, hiding his flushed cheeks from the guests with a kiss. Coos and chuckles surrounded you as you both shared this moment. When he pulled away his eyes narrowed, a warning. That if you continued then you would be in for a long night, but then when did you ever listen to him?

The night continued with tear-jerking speeches from close family and friends and you now both stood outside the doors waiting for the events organizer to announce you both as Mr and Mrs Kennedy for your first dance. His hand held yours firmly, almost like if he loosened his grip he would wake up from this dream. 

“Ready?” You asked him, looking up at his stubble-coated face in adoration. He never got used to your twinkling eyes when you looked at him, perhaps he never would. He didn't need the three words that meant so much to many people - your eyes told your story, your feelings. “To embarrass me with how badly I dance…no” he teased a toothy grin filling his features. Your laugh was better music than the song lined up for the rest of the evening. His own eyes crinkled once again as his smile grew. You heard your name announced and both jogged out onto the dance floor.. confetti and cheers surround you once again. 

Leon's hands gripped your hips tightly as they swirled you around, opting to stick to simple swaying and a few spins. You didn't care, you were smiling anyway. That was another thing you did that caused him to fall in love with you - how easily you accepted the simplest things he gave you. The size of his gestures is never an issue with you. When the song slowed down he bought you closer, his hands lowering to the swell of your ass. Your arms wrapped around his neck, fingers toying with the soft strands of his hair. His aftershave was intoxicating, filling your senses as you tucked yourself closer, his head resting on yours. The moment was peaceful, perfect. One he would remember every time a mission got too much, or he needed a reason to get back up after he's been slammed down numerous amounts of times. 

The moment was broken when one of the bridesmaids tapped him on the shoulder holding out a polaroid to him. He glanced briefly at you not failing to notice the large grin on your face. It was comical how wide his eyes went when he looked at the small picture; a choked breath following as his cheeks flushed. “What the fuck” he chuckled as he turned back to you, tucking away the Polaroid in his pocket before anyone else got to see. “There's plenty more where that came from” you spoke. Leon pulled you close again, trapping you against his body with a large grin on his features as his lips ghosted your skin. “You little minx” he whispered in your ear, his breath tickling the shell of yours. You smiled at the contact, at the small graze of his lips against your neck. Your fingers tugged gently at the hairs on the nape of his neck, swirling the soft strands in small circles. He felt you slip away leaving his arms to merge in with the rest of the dancefloor. Your white dress twirled around you as you greeted your friends. He watched with a smile, seeing your happiness leak into the people around you…into himself. 

Your feet moved gracefully along the dancefloor as you sauntered back to him often during the rest of the night. Interrupting and saving him from boring conversations with older relatives, your lips kissing in the pattern he knew would be repeated later when you were both alone. The collection of polaroids started to thicken his pockets as your bridesmaids continued to hand them to him, his face flushing each time - eyes narrowing as he found you giggling across the room from him. He was thankful as people started to wish you luck and goodnight, all heading off to their rooms. Instantly beginning to look for you to drag you to the bridal room. Leon found you helping the servers gather the remaining drinks handing them glasses over to the bar. Your hair was wild, strands sticking out of the braid it was neatly made into earlier in the day. Your makeup was smudged and the lipstick is virtually nonexistent but to him, you still looked just as beautiful at the start of the day. 

He felt giddy as you both stumbled your way back to the room, practically running through the halls. Your smile grew as you heard his laugh, the sound bouncing down the corridor. His hand held onto yours firmly not once letting go. It felt like you were teenagers again, running through the school corridors to escape school. You wished you had met him sooner in life, so you could have loved him sooner. Helped through the horrors he had told you, showed him a world of love and affection sooner before he fell into the habits he wasn't proud of.  His lips attacked yours as soon as you got through the door, the key card discarded on the desk landing on it with a clatter. Your hands slid under the shoulders of his blazer. Leon smiled into the kiss, his shoulders shaking it off in a poor attempt to help, the fabric landing with a thud on the floor. 

The contents of it scattered along the floor, his phone now hidden somewhere you'll both be scrambling to find in the morning. He smirked at the Polaroids that had now scattered everywhere, the photos of you that he kept hidden now a reminder of your promise. He felt his cock throbbing against the fabric of his trousers, he almost cummed at the idea of sinking into you finally after today. He pulled you towards the bed, pushing you backwards until your knees hit the edge of the bed. Leon wished he hadn’t just lost his phone so he could have taken a photo of you sprawled out on the bed beneath him surrounded by the rose petals the hotel staff had thrown on the bed. Your eyes were intense as they looked at him with pure lust, you always did love him in his suits. 

“You have a promise to keep?” He teased, bending down briefly to collect a polaroid off the floor - holding it out to you so you could see throwing it on the bed next to you. His hands began to push the layers of fabric up your legs, exposing your hips. He smiled at the garter that was still around your thigh. Leon’s head instantly lowered, his teeth tugging it down your leg, ignoring the chuckle that left your lips as he struggled to get it over your shoe. When he raised his head again you smiled at his smug look, the elastic band hanging from his teeth like a trophy. 

“You were meant to do that earlier and then see which one of your friends was getting married next” You smiled as you pulled it from his teeth, discarding the fabric somewhere else in the room. “Guess I’ll just have to marry you again” He spoke, kissing up your thighs disappearing amongst the fabric. “Already? We just made our vows” 

Leon’s head shot up again his hair falling over his eyes as he looked at you. “I’ll chant them to you every night if I have to. I’ll never forget them, nor will I let you forget them.” 

You knew if you wanted him to he would always be willing to do what it takes to prove he is forever grateful for your unwavering love and patience over the past few years. The same soft hands that now tugged his head towards your dripping cunt pulling him out of one of the worst states he’s ever been in. He didn’t like thinking about what would have happened if you hadn’t given him the final shove to pour the drink away. To stop for the first time since his 20s. His fingers looped in the waistband of the white lacy thong pulling it down your legs. You spread them, showing off your soaked core that he had skipped the cake for. Opting to save his appetite for a sweeter dessert instead. 

“I meant every single word” 

His mouth instantly latched on, sucking up the sweet arousal you were already dripping for him. Your legs wrapped tightly around his head, the fabric hiding him from sight as he worked his magic. Leon would spend hours like this if he wanted to, his head buried in a sacred space you kept so perfect for him. Forever - until death - now the only person that would be able to taste the sweet drink you created for him. Your legs shook as his tongue flicked against the sensitive bud, his nose occasionally brushing against it as he enthusiastically licked long stripes up your folds. 

You felt the incoming orgasm, your thighs shaking uncontrollably around his head only spurring Leon on to continue his assault of pleasure faster. He groaned when you finally spilt on his tongue, he lapped it up like he was dehydrated. You supposed he was, with the incoming date of your wedding you both barely had enough time for this. You moaned at the sight of his chin covered in his drool and your cum, his tongue swiping across his lips making sure he lapped it all up. He always was a messy eater. 

You could taste yourself on his as he crawled up to place a kiss on your lips. “How expensive was the dress?” he asked whilst nipping at your neck. His stubble was prickly against your skin. “Very. You gave me no budget remember” You chuckled, pulling at his hair causing him to look at you. “So if I fucked you in it, it would be a waste of money?” 

“We can always get it dry cleaned” 

He chuckled pulling away from you again. He was too slow at unbuttoning his shirt, you sat up, crawling towards the edge of the bed on shaking legs to help him. The fabric was discarded somewhere in the room with a thud. His hands worked on his trousers, his belt clinking loudly as they fell to the floor. You bit your lip at the sight of his pre cum on his boxers, both old and new stains. “Look at what you did to me all day, in this dress, the touches at dinner, the fucking photos. The day dragged on for far too long” He mumbled lowly. You loved it when he did this when his octave lowered with need and frustration for wanting you. Your teasing finally pushed him over the edge and now he had a taste there was no point in preventing him from the full meal. He was going to get it anyway. 

You stood up from the bed, spinning the both of you so he fell against the soft sheets. He waited for you to undo the dress, to let the fabric hide his trousers. Instead to crawled above him, pushing him towards the headboard. Leon pulled his boxers off, his cock thumping against his stomach at your approach. You smirked at the tip, angry and red as it waited for you. Dribbles of pre cum decorating it like candle wax, he was always so pretty.

 A large sigh from the both of you filled the room as you finally sank on him. The sight is hidden by the layers of the dress now pooling around you both. He could admire the way the bodice fit against your form, the delicate lace hems making you look even more magical. You were perfect, always were and always will be. 

Your hips moved too slow for his liking, the pleasure he needed not building up fast enough. Tired of your teasing his hips met your own. The lazy thrusts hit deeper and deeper as they collided with your own, brushing against the entrance of your cervix. He was always larger than you remembered, no amount of foreplay ever prepared you for the glorious stretch he gave you each time you fucked. His small whisps of hair tease your already sensitive clit. 

He could feel you quiver above him, your head thrown back with a large smile plastered on your face. He watched the rise and fall of your chest as it pushed out the breathless whimpers. Your fingers dug into his shoulders, the freshly painted nails leaving small crescent shapes along his already uneven skin. He wouldn’t mind a few more scars, not if they were left by you tonight. A forever memory etched onto his skin as well as in his mind. 

Had all his prayers finally been answered? All of his years of suffering finally bought to a close with the clench of your walls around his cock and a promise to love him until he gave his final breath. “I fucking love you, Mrs Kennedy” 

Hearing it made it more real somehow, made the whole day finish with another orgasm from you as you collapsed against him. Your sweaty skin cooling his down. He was so close, to his own ending. To coat and fill you with himself, the way it will always be now. Leon was now the only one who got this pleasure, that was allowed to do this. 

He was quick to move you, slipping out only briefly to place you on all fours. His cock slipped back into you; “I…will…always…fucking…love…you” he chanted with each thrust. Driving his cock deep into the velvet walls. Your whimpers and whines spur him on along with the begs to go faster and harder. The two of you lost in the moment, in the feel of each other. His ring was cool against your hip as it pressed into the flesh from his grip. Your dress rustles around you with every movement. Nothing else mattered, not the endless piles of paperwork on his desk waiting for him when he would return to the office, the complaints of customers you would eventually face in your own return to work. 

Everything could wait. Nothing would stop him from feeling this, the way you clenched and sucked him back in again. Trapped him in as he finally climaxed. His warmth flooded you, leaking out as he pulled away. Your shaking legs finally gave up as you fell onto the bed. A smile plastered on your face from where it was smooshed against the pillows. His fingers worked on undoing the back of the dress, your skin exposed to the cold. Fuck, he needed this sight engraved into his brain forever. You sat up, allowing the fabric to slip off your form with his help. The dress left to crease and crumple on the floor as you both tucked away in bed. 

He held you tightly against his chest, his heartbeat thumping loudly against your ear. Despite the great sex, this was what you cared about the most, the vulnerable moments where you slept the best. “Goodnight love” He whispered into your hair as he pressed a kiss into the crown of your head. You smiled against his skin, placing a kiss above the spot of his heart. Your fingers lazily traced along the scars that littered his chest until the room was filled with the soft snores of the newly weds. 

[gotzapbytheportal]

DPXDC ( YALL I TRIED HEHEHHHBF)

No…

Please… NO..

Stop…

M-MOM ITS ME, PLEASE! MO-...

SKRRRRT

Danny still remembers the day he got separated from his own twin brother, and the day he got a loving older sister named Jasmine.

Dark stormy sky and a one ratty dumpster was all Danny has for company after all he's been through

Escaping with nothing but hope and 4 years worth of training  just to escape them. 

Then

 Jasmine Fenton for all her 12 year old glory, saw a wounded 9 years old little danny bleeding hiding behind a dumpster, threatening her with a wakizashi to end her life.

To his shocked what she saw was not a treat to her life. What she saw was

She saw a brother. A little brother.

Dannys grateful… after all.. 

Her patience and love was the reason Danny was able to forgive his brother after what he's done after all..

She was the reason why…why i-...

…..

Damn dying for real does make you reminisce about your life… 

Looking back….. Damian did care…. Huh

Those long nights scolding me for being reckless. Eyes pierce as he stares at me while patching me up… hiding behind those eyes was a caring older brother… ehem by a minute 

Eyes that you can compare to a loving older sister…

a calloused hand from training to meet an  immortal creep standards compared to a soft gentle hand…. Both had unconditionally loved a little failure disguised as a boy and considered him their brother…

Their brother… 

 A Brother who was about to die permanently as his loving sister's biological parents digs inside his chess and discovers his core…

A Brother to a certain heir meant to be with their father as Robin

A Brother who the last thing he sees as his inside were grabbed was his once considered loving mom and dad who promised they would protect them….

Maddie and Jack fenton gleaming faces as they grabbed his core, transferred it to a machine of their creation and promptly cracked it.

It would be two days after then a geek boy and a goth girl would be finally able to find the boy.

Body discarded at the side of the room that was once a basement as the older fentons would later make an agreement with a certain government officials and successfully capturing and causing harm to the ghost of the past killing them succesfully 

Later then an older sister would promptly Cry herself to the last of her breath with regret for not saving her dear little brother.

Oh and the dear Brother of the boy who would only know the truth of what really occurred the night his brother went  missing is when years had already passed..

That it's already too late to make a change.

[missyscorner]

𝘊𝘢𝘴𝘶𝘢𝘭 — 𝘓𝘰𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘻𝘰 𝘉.

𝘓𝘰𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘻𝘰 𝘉𝘦𝘳𝘬𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘳𝘦 𝘹 𝘍𝘦𝘮!𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

Synopsis: Lorenzo was never big on relationships; he had only ever been in one — one which resulted in heartbreak and him sulking in his room for a month. Since then, he’s vowed to only have meaningless sex with girls, nothing more. When the two of you have sex one drunken night, you agree to have sex with no attachments. But one of you wants more.

Warnings: Suggestive content (no actual smut), vulgar language, very short, there’s one mention of Y/n (I’m so sorry), dialogue-heavy, not proofread, angst, & no happy ending.

Songs: Casual by Chappell Roan, Kaleidoscope by Chappell Roan, Somethin’ Stupid by Frank Sinatra & Nancy Sinatra, & Dealer by Lana Del Rey.

A/N: Hello! This is the first time I’m actually posting something I’ve written so I hope it’s not too much of a letdown. It was written on a whim so please ignore any inconsistencies or repetitive words.

There’s chatter scattered throughout the Slytherin common room, most of it coming from the group of boys sprawled out on the velvet green sofa — most of it coming from Draco complaining about Harry. You weren’t paying much attention to him, though. Your eyes were glued on Lorenzo staring at you with a sly grin.

When Draco had finished his monologue on his supposed enemy, Theodore was done with three missing assignments in Transfiguration, and Blaise had counted all the ice in his glass twenty-two separate times. You, however, had been gone the moment his speech had hit the ten-minute mark. As much as you loved Draco, you could not bear to listen to him talk for another moment. So, instead, you stood in front of your mirror, pinning your hair up. You wore a long, flowy, cream-colored nightgown, one that cascaded down your body so, very elegantly.

“Cute.” You hear the familiar voice echo from behind you, a small smile plays on your lips as you see Lorenzo’s reflection locking the door. Then, you feel his arms wrap tightly around your waist.

“You’re early,” you whisper, to which he only groans against your neck in response. “You should really start knocking, as well.”

“Missed you.” He leaves a feather-like kiss on the exposed skin of your shoulder, ignoring your lecture.

A light pink flushes across your cheeks, and his hand moves lower. You feel his breath fan against your collarbone, making you instinctively close your eyes.

“You were looking at me quite a bit today, I think you may need to tone it down, Enz. The others may start suspecting something.” Your voice is breathy, but you can’t help it. Not when his hands touch you like they are.

“Would that be a bad thing?” He pulls away, moving his hands to your lower back, gently leading you to your bed.

The mattress molds beneath your body, and his lips meet yours. The kiss is soft, it tastes like coffee and honey. It almost takes away from the harsh reality of the situation — you’re lying in bed with a man who does not feel anything for you. The kiss is cruel, it tastes bitter and deceitful.

You pull away, “Enzo, stop.”

He does. His body moves away from yours.

“Are you okay?” He asks, almost as if panicked.

“Yeah.” Lie. “I just — um, I’m not really feeling it, y’know?” Liar.

“Oh.” He swallows, “Right. I’ll be on my way, then.”

You watch him leave, and a pit forms in your stomach. It resides there for the rest of the night.

The next day, you sit in the courtyard, eyes scanning the words of your book, Lorenzo quietly slides onto the bench next to you.

“Whatcha’ doing?” He looks over your shoulder, startling you slightly.

“Gods — you scared me.” You hear a mumbled apology, closing your book. “What do you want?”

“Why do you always assume I want something? What if I just wanted to say hi to my favorite girl?”

“It’s never just ‘saying hi’ with you, Lorenzo.” There’s a bite in your tone.

“Are you mad at me or something?”

This isn’t fair to him, being mean because he doesn’t want you isn’t fair. You agreed to this, you agreed to emotionless sex; it isn’t his fault it’s not emotionless for you anymore. It’s not his fault he looks at you with the softest eyes, it’s not his fault he touches you so sweetly, it’s not his fault you cling to every moment with him and analyze every second of it. It’s not his fault.

“No, sorry. I’ve just had a rough day, not your fault.” You force a friendly smile.

“Oh. Maybe I can cheer you up, then.” He says, “I have something I want to show you at sunset. I’ll come find you.”

His lips meet your forehead, placing a gentle kiss. Asshole.

You should’ve said no to him, told him to fuck off, and ended things. You would’ve said no if you had gotten the chance to, if he hadn’t kissed your forehead — you probably would’ve said no. Maybe. Definitely. No. No, you wouldn’t have. As much as you resent him for it, he has you in his pocket; from that first night with him, he’s had you in his pocket. He knows that, too.

Three soft knocks fall at your door, opening it, you see Lorenzo standing opposite of you. He’s wearing medium-wash jeans and a plain white tee, his hair is wet and perfectly messy.

“Hey,” his voice is raspier than usual.

“Hi.” You lock the door behind you, and his hand intertwines with yours. “So, where are we going?”

“It’s a secret, my dear. But I can tell you, you’re going to think it’s beautiful.”

“You’re so sure of yourself.”

He snorts in response, “That’s because I know you, and I know you’ll like it. You’re easily impressed.”

“Fuck you.” You roll your eyes.

“Right now? In the middle of the corridor? Scandalous.” He fakes a gasp, and your cheeks taint a light pink.

He leads you out of the castle and to a secluded spot of the Black Lake, trees overlook the area, and the setting sun reflects off the water most beautifully.

“Take off your dress.” His voice sounds from behind you.

“Excuse me?”

“No, I meant — we’re going swimming — not… that.”

“Enzo, I’m not getting in that water. It’s cold out.” You turn around to see him already undressing.

“It’s fine.” He stands shirtless in his boxers, “And I promise if you get hypothermia or drown or something, I’ll save you.” He tucks a stray piece of hair behind your ear.

“From hypothermia?” You raise an eyebrow, crossing your arms.

“Yup. I’ll warm you up with my body heat.” He promises.

“That’s not how it works.”

“Whatever,” he drags his word out, “You’re being too critical. I’m getting in, you can follow if you’d like.” Another forehead kiss.

A sigh escapes your lip as he carefully treads into the water, ultimately, you end up unzipping your dress, leaving you in your underwear. You go after him.

“See? It’s not bad.” His hand grabs yours, helping you in. Don’t read into it, he’s just being kind.

“No, it’s fucking horrible.” Your torso is now engulfed by the cold water.

“Give it a minute, baby, your body will adjust to the temperature.”

In moments like this, you hate Lorenzo. You hate how much influence over you, you hate how you’re ready to agree to anything he says; you think, maybe if you’re willing enough it’ll change how he feels about you.

Your body finally acclimates to the water, it’s slightly more bearable now. Lorenzo guides you further into the water, keeping a firm arm around your waist. Abruptly, he pulls you under, then, you feel his lips on yours. You get a warm feeling in your tummy, it makes your head go fuzzy, and you know it’s time to pull away. Yet, your lips stay on his for a second longer before you swim to the surface for air, Lorenzo follows soon after.

“You asshole, I could’ve drowned!” You smack his chest, water splashing the both of you.

“I wouldn’t have let you drown, put some faith in me.” He chuckles, rolling his eyes.

You sigh, returning to the bay. His voice calls after you, then, you hear him swim back as well. You’re already halfway done with zipping up your dress by the time he gets to you. Presumably, he takes the hint because he’s now putting his jeans back on. However, with his back facing you, you notice something: red scratches. You hadn’t had sex in a week and a half.

“What are those?” You question.

“What are what?” He turns around, genuine confusion painted on his face.

“Those. The scratches.”

“Oh, right. Um, just some girl. Don’t worry about it.” Just some girl? Is that how he speaks of you when you’re not around — when another girl asks where he got the marks on his back?

“Really?” He doesn't owe you loyalty, you think, no, but he owes you decency. “You’ve been seeing other girls?”

“Yeah.” He shrugs, then notices your expression. “You can’t seriously be angry. I didn’t think it was a big deal.”

“Obviously, it’s a big deal.”

“Truly, it is not. You’re overreacting.”

“So, you’d be okay with me sleeping around with other men?” Silence. “Exactly.”

“Don’t act like you didn’t agree to this. You were perfectly fine with us just fucking each other a few month ago.” His voice raises slightly.

“Well, I don’t want to ‘just fuck’ anymore, Lorenzo!” A long pause of quiet surrounds the two of you.

“Y/n, you know — you know I can’t do that.”

“I know.”

“I’m sorry.”

Stillness.

“We probably should stop this,” you suggest.

“Probably.”

Swallowing harshly, you put on your shoes. He hugs you for what you assume to be the last time, kissing the top of your head.

“If it’s any consolation, I love you. I just don’t think a relationship with me would be the best thing for you, lovely. I’ve got a lot of shit to work through before I’d be good for anyone, and you, especially, don’t deserve to be subjected to that.” His voice cracks, “You deserve someone with the ability to commit and love you to the fullest extent. I wish that person could be me, but I know that I’d hurt you, and I refuse to do that.”

Looking up at him, you see a tear fall from his eye. Then, you feel a tear fall from your own. His hand wipes your dampened cheeks dry, and he whispers delicate comforts. It’s cruel, the way he makes you cry and then wipes it all away.

You move back, taking in his soft features for the last time before walking away. He doesn’t offer to walk you back, he doesn’t say goodbye, he lets you go. Sobbing, you walk back to the castle. Sobbing, you make it to your dorm. Sobbing, you accept that you’ll never be in his arms again, gently brushing through his hair with your fingers, or counting his light freckles. You let that knowledge rip you apart from the inside out. It hurts, but it’s out of your control.

Divider Creds: @milklemondrop

[autumnheartsprice]

"You're my issue!"

price x gn!reader

<mentions of gun going off, bullet wound, crying, kinda angsty? slow burn if you squint? happy romantic ending, no smut>

"God damnit, you fucking muppet! The 'ell were you thinking?!" he mutters, carrying you against his chest as he rushes back to the helicopter, a hand pushing against the bullet wound in your abdomen. He looks down for a brief second and sees your half-closed eyes as you whine in pain as he presses your wound more in attempt to stop the bleeding; "You stay awake, you idiot, don't you care close those fucking eyes!"

The whole way back to the base was hell for the poor medics, Price's yelling only a distraction to the point he had to be separated. Gaz sat with him in the back to keep an eye on him, not wanting his Captain to do anything reckless.

"You put a bullet through me and you'll have one on your back until the moment my team kills you, Graves." Price says, as he holds his hands up in the air, weapons being stripped away from him. You stand next to Price, in the same exact position as him. A knife hidden in your boot is your only resort but his gun pointed at Price would kill you before you even had a chance to reach for it.

The two men bicker at each other, throwing insults and threats in the air as Price stalls, waiting for the rest of the team to get to their location in the building to take him down and rescue you two from the unhelpful situation.

Gunshots go off in the building, appearing closer as the team makes their way through to you, the mistake of arriving quietly ending with a consequence. "Tsk tsk. I told you just a little meeting with just the three of us, seems like you can't follow instructions, Captain."

"Actions have consequences. Thought you'd know this by now." Graves says. Your eyes focus on his finger moving to pull the trigger and you quickly step in front of your Captain before the gun could go off and the bullet hits Price.

You fall to the ground, hand rushing to feel the site as blood doesn't hesitate to gush out. Your ears ring, almost missing the gunshots that go off towards Graves but you're too distracted to look over. Tears gloss over your eyes as you see someone's figure kneeling down in front of you and yelling going on.

Price sits at your side, refusing to take shifts with everybody else because he wanted to be the only one with you. The medics said it shouldn't take long for you to wake up; the sudden shock and blood loss wasn't a shock to cause you to pass out for a while.

He doesn't change out of his clothes or even take off his vest, not wanting to take his eyes off you or leave you alone for a second. He only washed the blood and grime off his hands once they arrived back to base because he knows how much you hate dirty hands.

It takes about 48 minutes and 32 seconds, to be exact, to wake back up. Price continuously looked back between you and the clock to make sure you weren't out for a concerning amount of time.

Your eyes slowly opened, blinking a few times as the bright florescent lights welcomed you. Your hand moves to cover your eyes and shield them from the assaulting brightness, only causing you to whine in pain as the movement makes the wound stretch out a little.

Price's eyes immediately snap towards you from the clock as he hears you waking up and whining in pain. He quickly moves his chair even closer to your bed to try to help you. "Easy, hon. Don't want to go hurting yourself even more." He mumbles, the tone in his voice was a mixture of emotions. Fear, anger, sadness, guilt.

You groan in annoyance, not a big fan of the growing pain in your abdomen. "Don't wanna fuckin' hear it. Don't act like such a reckless idiot next time and you won't be in this sort of pain." Your eyebrows furrow in confusion, unsure of what happened as your memory was still coming back to you.

After he calls in the nurses to come check on you now that you're awake, he sits in silence and just stares at you and your blurry tear-filled eyes as you start to take in everything and remember, his harsh words not helping in the slightest.

After the nurses leave and it's just the two of you again, he moves to sit on the side of your bed, making sure to sit on your unhurt side to avoid the pain that'll come from the large dip in the bed. You wanted him to ignore the tear that rolled down your cheek, but he didn't fail to miss it. His hand comes up to gently tuck your dirtied hair behind your ear with a deep sigh. "Let it out, sweet girl. It's okay, nobody's mad or disappointed with you. It's no good keeping in all these emotions, hm?" he whispers. He leans closer to let your head rest against his chest as sobs start to escape from you. Harsh and scared sobs rack through your body as tears start to stain his shirt. "There ye go, good girl. Let those emotions out."

He continues to whisper sweet nothings into your ear as he lets your emotions run free. It takes a little bit to get you to calm down again but he doesn't mind; it's not his first rodeo to calm you.

Once your breathing is more stable and just occasional shaky breaths and sniffles, he leans back to look at your face. Red and puffy. He takes your chin into his hand and forces you to look up at him despite you trying to avoid it.

"Don't you dare scare me like that again. Ain't no man on this Earth that's good enough for you to risk your life for." he pauses, trying to think of what to say next. "Do y'know how fuckin' scared I was? Holding your unconscious body, not knowing if you were about to die in my arms or not? Did you even think about how stupid it would be to jump in front of a bullet?!" He finishes, voice slightly raising by the last sentence. Your hand moves towards his to force it away from your chin, forcing it to rest in his lap.

Tears start to brim your eyes, but you refuse to let them fall this time. Your head falls back onto the pillow behind it as you stare at the empty space in front of you. "What? All of a sudden you can't handle the consequence of being so stupid out there? Should 'ave you written up for this." He mutters out.

"Really? Go ahead and write me up then, tell 'em to switch me to a different team once they read it since my efforts can't be appreciated around here." He tries to interrupt you to talk, "No. You had your chance to speak. Not even one "Thank you"? You know damn well that shit happens out there that you didn't expect beforehand, you know soldiers end up getting shot all the time. Thought as Captain, you'd know this by now, but obviously not."

He scoffs after you finish and steps closer, looming over you from the side of the bed. "You're not transferring. You're not leaving me." It was your turn to scoff now, irritated by his words. "Really? That's the only part you heard? What the fuck is your issue? Huh? Old age making you lose your hearing?" He rests a knee onto the side of the bed, and grabs your face. "Really? What's my 'issue'? You're my god damn issue! Can't you see that I can't bear you leaving me and being out of my life?"

He stares at your pupil-blown eyes as you try to register what he just said. "You stupid idiot." he mutters under his breath before leaning closer, his lips ghosting above yours. You seal the kiss; you pull him as close as possible without hurting yourself even more and tangle your fingers into his beard.

The kiss feels like it lasts an eternity, a good kind of eternity. Your tongues slip into each other's mouth, exploring the newfound closeness before he pulls away - almost causing a whine to escape your lips but his face stays close to yours. "You're my issue." he repeats. "A good kind of issue?" you ask, silently enjoying the way each other's breath fans against the other's. "Enough to make me gonna start graying soon, how about that?" he teases; you playfully pretend to inspect his beard before replying, "I think I already see a few gray hairs, Cap." You giggle as he leans in again to press kisses against your face.

"Fuck, I love you, idiot."

[vxsellie]

‧₊˚┊simple living things﹗

a hunger games!au ellie williams fanfiction.⌇ 𝔠𝔥𝔞𝔭 𝔦𝔦

summary. to give a final goodbye to someone you love is generally the last thing anyone would ever wish to do. though, when being shipped off to your death, it's the equivalent to being given a final meal whilst on death row.

content warnings. abuse, mentions of death, implications of murder, and (the worst of all) a lesbian breakup

total wc. 5,225

notes!! here she is! i wrote this in one sitting on the night before christmas, literally up until two am bc my thoughts wouldn't stop flowing (ive had writers block for the past few months so you couldn't pry my keyboard from my cold dead hands). anyway here she is! once again, reminder that it's better read on ao3!

𝜗𝜚 series masterlist ⸝⸝ playlist ⸝⸝ ao3 𝜗𝜚

14:45.

DISTRICT SEVEN.

“What were you thinking?” 

Despite how loud Marlene’s voice is, it sounds rather muffled. Ellie’s thoughts all jumble together into a plethora of unintelligible abstraction. This results in outside noises becoming equally as cryptic.

After the Reaping, both tributes were escorted into the Justice Building and forced into separate rooms. Having grown up amid the Games, Ellie’s aware that this is the part where she’s supposed to say her final goodbyes to her loved ones — an hour of time allotted to these farewells. And, despite knowing that all twenty-three other tributes are going through the same thing, Ellie couldn’t feel more alone. There’s a sickening sense of finality to this. Like she’s cattle bred and born to await death. Like there’s nothing more to her life aside from this — being Reaped to never return.

And, with the time given, Marlene has opted to use the entirety of her visit reprimanding Ellie for how she’d acted on stage. Not that she doesn’t deserve to be chastised, she knows she does, but it’s still fucked up.

See, after her name had been drawn, Ellie’s entire world fell out from under her feet. She knew there was a possibility of her name being drawn, she’d be a fool not to at least acknowledge that fact. But to look that fate in the eye and have no way of revoking it? That’s an entirely different pill to swallow. As she stood atop that stage, the escort’s piping voice ringing through her ears, Ellie simply could not seem to comprehend it. But then she felt a weight in her hand, a warmth. She turned to see Riley, her jaw set and her eyes darkened. She grabbed Ellie’s hand and hoisted it into the air.

To Ellie, it was a rather odd thing to do. But, as Marlene is pointing out presently, it was an act of defiance against the Capitol itself. Ellie had no idea. Not that she doubts it, what with Riley’s outward distaste for the government, but it just hadn’t dawned on her that the mere act of holding a friend’s hand would piss off the Capitol. It’s kinda funny.

“What could you possibly be laughing at?” Marlene groans, her pacing coming to a halt as she whips around to face Ellie. Her expression isn’t one of rage, as initially expected. Instead, it’s one of genuine panic. Well shit, apparently holding hands really is treason.

Ellie doesn’t respond, her face dropping instantly. She pins her gaze to the floor, staring at the same rusted nail she’s been looking at for the past ten minutes. In fact, she’d been so zoned out that she hadn’t picked up a single thing that Marlene was trying to say. Usually, this would amuse her. But now, with her impending doom so leering, she can’t help but feel ashamed. She may never see Marlene again. And then what? Her last memory of the girl she’d raised from infantry would be of her zoned out whilst curled into a ball on a dilapidated sofa. That’s rather pathetic, is it not?

She shudders, pulling her knees even closer to her chest at the thought. She doesn’t yet know who was Reaped from the other Districts, but she’s sure they aren’t all pouting on their couches like children. Still, she can’t seem to remove herself from this position — one of self comfort. 

Something touches her knee and she flinches, tearing her gaze from the floor. She looks up to see Marlene sitting beside her on the couch, her gaze softened. Ellie hadn’t even noticed her approach. Fuck. See, this is the exact thing she’s worried about. If she were to zone out like this in the arena, she'd be dead within minutes.

“You didn’t hear anything I just said, did you?” Marlene asks with a sigh. A wave of guilt washes over Ellie’s body before she nods, admittedly having heard nothing. “I was saying I’m sorry. I don’t mean to shout at you like this, especially considering the situation. I’m only lecturing you because I’m worried. I’ve seen the Capitol kill people for less than holding hands.”

Ellie shakes her head, though the act is faraway. “The Capitol can’t kill us now that we’re tributes. To do so would only result in more defiance from the viewers. They’re anticipating a show, to kill off the characters would be antiprogressive.”

“No, but they can surely make your time in the arena worse.” Marlene points out. 

Ellie thins her lips at this, but ultimately says nothing. This is not what she wants to hear right before being sent to her death. She wants consolation and comfort, not reminders of how little control she has in her own life. But that’s just how Marlene is — she gets stressed and rambles. Most of the time, it's a harmless habit. Right now, though, it’s proving to be rather taxing.

“Look,” She sighs, “I’m not good at this whole thing, talking. Everyone knows that. It’s– Well, it’s the entire reason I never had any kids of my own.” She sighs again trying desperately to make sense of her thoughts and word them in a way that doesn’t sound like an insult. “I never wanted children, but raising you was the best thing that ever could have happened to me. Losing you would thereby be the worst thing to ever happen to me. I only shouted at you because your safety means everything. But— you’re strong, Ellie, and so very brave. If you put your mind to it, you can make it out of that arena. I believe in you. All you have to do is believe in yourself.”

Ellie is certain that’s the most Marlene has ever spoken in one go without shouting or giving up halfway through. And for that, she’s grateful. Ellie swallows harshly, her throat suddenly feeling too big for her neck. She leans forward.

She doesn’t hug Marlene, not necessarily. She simply flops into her, thumping her forehead onto her shoulder. Her body is stiff and her jaw is clenched tight, but the act of the touch still carries a sense of sentimentality to it. Especially considering she and Marlene never hug. In fact, she thinks she only ever hugged her once in her whole life. Again, it’s not anything to pity her for, it’s just their relationship. A fact of life. Some people are touchy, others aren't. And Marlene is definitely among those who are not.

She rubs a hand up and down Ellie’s back, though it’s more so to do something with her hands rather than to comfort her. 

They remain like that for a long time, sitting in silence because neither of them are skilled at voicing their emotions. Ellie’s mind continues to move at a million thoughts per second, though it slows a little in the absence of Marlene’s shouting.

Roughly twenty minutes go by before Marlene pulls away. She has a hand on each of Ellie’s shoulders, a foot between their faces. She stares at her, brown eyes flicking across each one of her features, as though to memorize her before departure. Ellie mimics her, taking in the sight of the woman who raised her — from the slope of her nose to the arc of her brows. Afterall, this might be her last time to do so. No matter how hard she believes in herself.

“I ought to go visit Riley.” Marlene says with an awkward cough, standing from the couch. “She doesn’t have any family aside from you and I.”

It’s true. Riley’s family is rather complicated seeing as she doesn’t have any. It took seven years of being Riley’s friend before she confided in Ellie about her past. And, after hearing it, she couldn’t blame her for her hesitance. 

Her father was a rebel. He hated the Capitol and everything related to it. He wasn’t married to Riley’s mother when she got pregnant, hadn’t even been dating. They simply had a fling and moved on — hence his oblivion to the fact that she’d been a Peacekeeper. Riley’s dad lived a life of tranquil solitude, aside from frequent whippings as punishment for opposing the Capitol so vocally. Truly, he’d been lucky to not be assassinated on the spot for his insubordination. The entirety of Seven knew him for his rebellious nature.

So, when Riley’s mother came forth with an infant in her arms, he was shocked. He couldn’t believe that she’d gotten pregnant. Though, more importantly, he couldn’t believe she was a fucking Peacekeeper. He tried to keep his calm, civilly agreeing to partial custody over their daughter. 

But, when Riley was about four years old, their refined consensus came to an abrupt end. They got into an argument. And a bad one, at that. Nobody knows the exact details to its origin or entailments, but it’s widely known how it ended — Riley’s mother dead and her father as an Avox for the Capitol. His punishment for her murder.

Riley subsequently grew up in an orphanage, though she inherited her father’s rebellious nature and oftentimes escaped over the fence. She’d spent more time in the woods than she had in the decelit building — chopping wood and climbing trees and visiting the Hob. She’d grown rather skilled at it, the illegality of escaping. She met Ellie in elementary. She’d been scaling the fence, intending to flee the school. Ellie had caught her and insisted she teach her how to do it. Begrudgingly, Riley agreed. From there, with many details gone unmentioned, they became friends. Now look at them Reaped for the Hunger Games together. Ugly ending to a beautiful story.

“Yeah.” Ellie agrees curtly to Marlene’s suggestion. “Yeah, she’d appreciate that, I think.”

Marlene nods in agreement prior to turning on her heel and exiting the room.

Ellie sits alone for a few minutes, returning to her humiliating fetal position. She hugs her legs to her chest, dirty shoes on the cushion of the couch. Though the sofa isn’t in the best shape considering the prodding springs and frayed stuffing. She rests her chin on her knee, staring at the rusty nail she’s grown so fond of.

She’s not sure how long she sits like that before a knock is heard at the door. She groggily tells them to enter, causing the door to creak on its hinges. A face pokes inside prior to the body attached. Cat.

Her black hair is done up, pinned into a purposefully messy bun, bangs cut shorter than usual. It looks put together, but in that I-woke-up-like-this way. Her eyelids are colored in a shiny crimson, her lips in the same glossy tint. Her skin looks inhumanly smooth, her eyebrows impossibly thin. She’s wearing a strapless baby pink dress that’s uncomfortably close to the shade of her skin, coming to her midthigh. Her shoes are the same red as her eyes and lips, clicking against the wooden floor as she walks. She looks like a Capitolite in the way her features are accentuated, though human enough for Ellie to still find her attractive

She instantly straightens, confused. “Why are you here? Aren’t you supposed to be on a train to the Capitol?”

“Well,” Cat begins, shutting the door softly behind her as she walks over to the couch Ellie is curled atop. She sits down beside her, the cushion dipping under her weight, which instinctively pulls Ellie toward her. “I caused a bit of a scene, insisting I had to see you. And, considering it’s a hassle to find another stylist so late into the Games, I simply dared them to fire me. They didn’t, of course, and instead opted to just give me time to see you, albeit minimal.”

Ellie laughs, though the sound is hollow. This draws a tight expression from Cat as she takes in the sight of the girl before her. Ellie suddenly feels self conscious, wearing a wrinkled linen shirt while Cat looks like a literal fucking deity. Not to mention the pathetic way she’s presenting herself — small and weak. She sits upright, swallowing as she runs her hands down her shirt in a futile attempt at flattening it.

Cat stops her, placing a hand on her wrist. Ellie looks at the place where she touches her, taking in the sight of her perfectly done nails. Baby pink with crimson colored accents. God, every single detail of her is altered for the Capitol’s preference.

“I got you something.” Cat whispers, removing her hand from her wrist to reach into the purse Ellie hadn’t even noticed she carried with her. She holds out her hand, a small piece of metal resting in the center of her palm. A ring, in the shape of a moth. The body is the centerpiece, the wings made to wrap around the finger. “Here,” Cat grabs Ellie’s hand, pulling it forward before slipping the ring onto her index. 

“I love it,” Ellie breathes, holding her hand out in front of her to admire the ring.

“I made it myself.” Cat says. Ellie should have guessed. She knew Cat enjoyed making jewelry, using spoons and other random hunks of metal to concoct something ugly into something pretty. She’s spoken of the hobby before, though she’s never revealed any of the end products. This is Ellie’s first time seeing one of them.

She suddenly recalls the rule that tributes are permitted to bring one token into the arena from home. One thing to remind them of their identities — which are sure to be lost in the Games. Ellie had completely forgotten about the rule, it never having crossed her mind. But looking at this ring now, she’s certain this is the perfect thing to bring. A reminder of home. Not of a place, but of a person. Of Cat.

“I love it.” Ellie repeats more furtively, turning to kiss her.

However, before their mouths are able to touch, Cat lifts her hand to Ellie’s chest. She pushes her away. And, though the act is as gentle as possible, Ellie still feels as though she’d been shoved. She leans back. Cat’s expression is pained, not at all matching the cheerful makeup she wears.

She shakes her head, eyes squeezed shut. “I love you, Ellie. Truly. A part of me likely forever will. But– to be in love with you would only end in causing us both an insurmountable quantity of pain. I can’t consciously do that to you. Even our current relationship is deteriorating your mental health. You’re too dependent on what we have, too afraid to lose it. To allow you to continue down this road would be wrong of me. To even have begun it was wrong. And now that you’re going into the arena, I just– adding yet another burden to your shoulder would be wholly immoral.”

Ellie doesn’t know when, but amid that confession, she’d begun crying. Not just due to the breakup, though, if she could even consider it that. But due to everything. Riley distancing herself recently, the Reaping, Marlene’s shouting, Marlene’s halfhearted farewell, and now this? On top of it all?

“So you’re breaking up with me to ease your own fucking conscience?” Ellie snaps. She doesn't mean to say it. She doesn’t. It’s just all become so much for her to carry. And it’s so easy to drop it on Cat after what she’d just done.

“No.” She insists, nigh pleading in her denial. “Ellie, no, you know that’s not what I’m saying.”

“Then why even give me this?” She asks, holding out her hand with the ring on it. “For me to bring a reminder of your absence into the arena?”

“No, no.” Cat continues to deny Ellie’s accusations. “Not to remind you that I left, but to remind you why I left.”

Ellie scoffs, “Now you’re just saying shit. You’re not even trying to make sense.”

“Moths, Ellie.” She says, grabbing her hand in desperation for her to just fucking listen. “They’re attracted to the light. No matter where they go or– or what environment they’re placed in, they find a light. Something to always keep them going. Something to fight for. Something to reach. I’m holding you back, don’t you see? I don’t want you to fight to get home. I want you to fight because you know you’re worth it. You’re worth living for, even without me or Riley or Marlene. For you. Be your own moth, your own light.”

Ellie wipes roughly at her face, fists scrubbing at her eyes painfully. She wishes she had something clever to say. Something smart that would make Cat rethink everything. But all she can muster is a mumbled, “Moths are fucking ugly.”

14:45.

DISTRICT FOUR.

Your ears are ringing, a loud chiming sound that makes your head swim. Despite this, you keep your chin high as your mother shouts orders at you. You’ve long since tuned her out, which is something you’d never had dared to do prior to the Reaping. But you’re being sent to the arena — you’ll either die in there and never see her again, or you’ll come back a victor and thereby be of higher status than her. Whatever you do now matters naught.

She’s rambling on about something regarding orders to return home. Not because she cares for your wellbeing, but because it’d shame the entire family if you were to die on live television. 

She’s standing across the room from you, her pale blue dress somehow perfectly cleaned despite the journey she made across the grassy courtyard to the Justice Building. Her wrinkled face is contorted into an unreadable expression, the illegibility irritating you. Her golden cane is perched under her clasped hands. God, the woman is the embodiment of power despite having earned none. 

“I get it.” You cut her off, tone just as sharpened as hers, almost as though you’d spent years honing it into a blade serrated enough to challenge her. “I’ll come back. If not, you’ll be embarrassed. Poor you, right?”

The expression of shock on her face is almost worth the punishment — which ends up being hit by the end of her cane. Had it been the usual wood, the pain would be tolerable. But it’s pure gold, causing your mouth to fill with blood. You spit onto the floor and she begins to reprimand you for doing that, deeming it to be improper. You ignore her, massaging your newly bruised face.

The punishment for your statement would likely have been far more severe if you weren’t destined to be put on camera for the country to gawk at. A wound on your face would be shameful. A bruise, though? Your prep team can surely cover that up with a bit of makeup.

She finishes her castigation, seeming to have worn herself out. She then turns and storms out of the room. You almost didn’t notice her swift exit, as she’d made no effort to say goodbye or wish you luck. Just ten minutes of shouting prior to causing a splitting headache and a bruise to the jaw, uncaring to hear you utter a single syllable. Best mom ever.

See, most people deem this event as emotional — an hour allotted to parting ways with your loved ones. But your mother doesn't see this as a parting. She expects to irrefutably see you again. And very shortly, at that.

You’re alone in the room for only a few seconds before a shy knock is heard at the door. You’re confused by this, unsure of who else could be here to see you. “Come in.” You call out, moving to stand over the stain of blood you’d left on the shiny hardwood floor. Thankfully, your dress is long enough that the skirts cover up the space beneath you.

The door opens and a wrinkly old man pops inside. Your lips part at the sight of mister Alden entering the room. You rush forward, offering your aid in his walking. He takes it, looping his arm around the crease of yours.

There’s a small couch with two cushions in the corner of the room. You walk him over to it, easing him onto the sofa before sitting next to him. You cross your legs, “What are you doing here? I know it’s a far journey from where you live.”

He sighs, “You’re like a daughter to me, Y/n. And, though neither of us are willing to address that aloud, we’re both well aware of it. I’ve known you since you were three years old and just learning how to walk. In fact, I can vividly recall the very day I’d met you — you were asleep on your brother’s back, clinging to him like a sloth as he made the trek down to the docks. You were such a small thing, then. Chubby little face and a diaper that didn’t fit.” He smiles fondly, looking at you as though he still views you that way, a baby. “The point is, to not visit you would be cruel. And I’m not a cruel man.”

Your eyes burn as you listen to him. He’s right. You both know it. You and Ruben are like children to him. And he is definitely not a cruel man. You wonder if he’d visited Ruben when he was Reaped. Probably. But you don’t dare ask, not wanting to speak of your brother any more than necessary.

“Oh!” He jolts as though he’d just remembered something vitally important. 

You watch as mister Alden reaches into the pocket of his coat and pulls out a dainty necklace. A white pearl resides in the center, acting as a pendant to the thin silver chain. Your gaze softens as you look at it hanging between his shaky fingers.

“It’s beautiful.” You tell him.

“I want you to have it, to take it into the arena.” He says. “You remember my granddaughter, the one who was facing her first Reaping today? She made it for herself, and planned to wear it into the arena had her name been drawn. She spent weeks searching for the perfect pearl, then another few weeks saving up money to buy the chain.”

Your chest twists at hearing this. You could easily buy something like this from a small shop down by the beaches. It wouldn’t even cost you a day’s allowance. You shake your head. “I can’t take this from her. It’s too special.”

“I insist.” Says he. “When she heard your name called, she instantly turned to me, slipped the necklace into my pocket, and demanded that I bring it to you.” He lets out a light chuckle. “Her ferocity reminds me of you, actually. I don’t even remember telling her about my visits to your house. No shock she found out, though, she’s so bright for her age.”

With a grunt, he pushes to his feet. You rush to do the same, standing beside him in case he needs assistance. Instead of asking for aid, he tells you to turn around. Without hesitation, you oblige. You then feel something cold wrap around your neck. You look down to see the thin necklace now placed across your collarbones. It’s absolutely stunning. Mister Alden fumbles with the clasp, his shaky hands struggling to work the tiny thing.

When he finally gets it on, you turn around to see that he has tears in his eyes. He takes in the sight of the pearl necklace paired with the navy dress, the silver chain matching the silver diamonds adorning it. He nods, wiping roughly at his eyes. “You’ve grown into such a lovely young woman.”

You swallow the lump in your throat before pulling him into a hug, having to hunch over a bit due to his lack of height. He hugs you back, sniffling. It’s rather telling that the random stranger that you buy your seafood from is more caring than anyone in your family. But he’s not a stranger, is he?

After a few minutes of sentimental embrace, he finally parts from you and leaves. On the way out, you catch a glimpse of a tear rolling down his cheek, the droplet catching the light for a split second.

Alone in the room with about ten minutes remaining, you walk over to the window. You look at your reflection in the shined glass, taking in the sight of the necklace. Knowing how long it’d taken to create only adds to its beauty. The dresses your mother has fitted for you are paltry; replaceable. But this? Nobody could recreate the months spent making it, nor could they recreate the small hands that did so.

The sound of footsteps entering the room draws you from your thoughts. You catch his reflection in the window before he’s even fully through the door. Your entire body tenses, something shifting in the air at his presence. Something deep, deep inside you. Like the atoms that make up your very being have been furtively yearning for this moment. For his proximity.

You turn to face him fully.

Ruben.

You’ve seen him around, of course. You’d seen him less than an hour ago. Everyone has seen him, what with the Capitol flashing him around nigh as much as the country’s flag. He’s their brightest diamond and their largest star — the abnormal mixture of UY Scuti with Sirius, creating something impossible to tear one's eyes away from.

You two have spoken as well, albeit in short increments and only when mandatory. So, truly, you’re not sure if it counts in terms of conversation.

He shuts the door slowly, facing you with an unreadable expression. No– that can’t be right. You could always read him, you could always understand him. But right now, not a single word comes to mind as you look at him. He’s a closed book that you’d once memorized every page of.

He stares at you for a moment, gaze lingering on the bruise forming on your cheek. You wonder if you should hide it or not. But he likely knows exactly how it was induced — knowing the feel of your mother’s cane all too well, as he’d grown up taking hits for you daily. It takes a few minutes, but he eventually tears his eyes from your face and looks around the room, looking at the intricate ceiling or the swaying chandelier.

“Been a while, huh?” He huffs a laugh, though it’s dry and lacking any scrap of genuine humor.

You think about this, about what he said. It’s been a while. The world’s biggest understatement, that is. You’re suddenly filled with an immeasurable amount of rage. It’s been eleven fucking years. And he has the nerve to say it’s been a while?

Eleven years since he was Reaped. Eleven years since he was the one in this room. Eleven years since you came to visit him, sobbing and begging him not to go to the arena. Eleven years since Ruben returned from the arena. Eleven years since your brother never returned. Eleven years since the boy who raised you, who protected you, who taught you to walk and talk and eat, vanished.

You say nothing to him, not trusting yourself to speak without either screaming or crying. Or, most likely, both. So, insead, you remain silent.

Ruben sighs, leaning back against the wall with crossed arms. Something about that action makes you visibly wince. He’s so confident. The Ruben you knew was an awkward young boy, made complete with lanky limbs and oversized eyes. Strange little habits — like the way he didn’t ever know what to do with his arms, or the way he always tapped his left foot when he was nervous — made him human. But not anymore. He now knows exactly what to do with his arms and he wouldn’t dare show when he’s nervous. His humanity is just another thing the Capitol stripped him of.

“You don’t have to say anything, just listen.” Says Ruben. He then inhales deeply, his jaw set and eyes piercing; a Capitolite in all but name. “This is the last time we won’t be monitored. After leaving this room, everything will be tracked and recorded and analyzed — the train, the center, the arena. From here, you’re never alone. Even in the bathrooms, privacy doesn’t exist.”

You narrow your eyes at him, “So you’re saying you need to tell me something the Capitol can’t hear?”

“Yeah,” He breathes, “Exactly.”

“Okay, so what is?” You ask, crossing your arms over your chest. Of course that’s what he’s here for. Not to wish you well or say goodbye — though he likely also expects you to win; he was raised by the same monsters, after all — but, instead, to warn you. To make sure you survive the arena so as to not penetrate the family name.  

“Something is wrong with this year’s Reapings.” He explains. “Districts Two and Three both had a pair of siblings Reaped – Lev and Yara from Two, Sam and Henry from Three. Then, if that weren’t enough proof as is, Districts Five and Seven both Reaped a set of best friends — Selene Jones and Ariande Evans from Five, Riley Abel and Ellie Williams from Seven. Not to mention the pair of lovers that were Reaped from Six — Roland Jennings and Archie Bardot.”

You take in what Ruben is saying, thinking hard about it. You were Reaped alongside a small child, a little boy who you’d never seen before in your life. That doesn't seem rigged, but there ought to be some kind of intentional malice behind it.

“How do you know all of this?” You ask, though you know the answer. “The Reapings haven’t aired yet.”

“I know people.” He says rather ashamedly, as though he’s already aware of the kind of reaction this will draw from you. 

Anger sparks up once more at the mention of his ties to the Capitol. Not only is he using the Capitol to help you in the games — a perk no other tribute has — but he’s managed to fucking memorize every name name of importance. You don’t want to be treated as some sort of celebrity. You were Reaped with equally poor luck as Lev, Henry, or Ellie; or whatever their names were. You should therefore be held to the same expectations, not given hints into the Games. Which, by the way, is highly illegal. Not like Ruben would be punished. He could probably murder a Peacekeeper on stage and manage to get away with it. 

It makes you sick.

“Okay, great.” You bite. “You told me what you needed, you can leave now.” “No, Y/n, you’re not understanding.” He insists, taking a step forward. You take one backward, almost on instinct. A pained expression crosses his face, though it vanishes just as quick as it’d appeared. He sighs, running a hand down his face. “These tributes won’t be killing for the sake of winning, they’ll be killing to save themselves alongside their loved ones. Had you and I been in the arena together, our strength would have doubled. Just imagine that. For at least five other Districts, their wills to live are multiplied. And the—”

His words are cut off as the door slams open and Peacekeepers come filing into the room to rudely announce that your time is up. It’s time to board the train to the Capitol. To the Games.

[post] notes!! don't really have any (for once), i'm just so so so so excited for u guys to read this bc i write things way prior to posting bc i like to proofread like 50 time before releasing it. anyway yeah, u guys barely know abt this bad boy while im typing this

⊹ ࣪ ˖𐙚 perm. taglist @luvsturniolo @kasqnxx @xlovla @ilovewomenfr @zzombiegirl @shawangel @defnoteleonor @fatbootymuncher @autisticintr0vert

⊹ ࣪ ˖𐙚 series taglist @kirammanss.  @dsybouquet.   @serraphinm.   @smellovie.   @sakiigami.   @opt1mistic.   @spacecinnamonbuns.   @clouded-whispers.    @sappicarribean.   @corpsebridenightmare.     @jaliyah-s.    @pixiec4t.    @chappellroankisser.   @mxquelo.    @vahnilla.

[miwiheroes]

Dropping Byler Evidence Every Day Until Season 5

Day 5: Byler parallels with Jopper and Lumax

Decided to combine Jopper and Lumax into one post because a lot of them are similar and would actually be more compelling if they were all combined, being that Jopper and Lumax are definitely endgame (they arent in any love triangles or anything)

So again, I'm gonna name the parallel and how intentional it may be. Even if it's not fully intentional as a complete parallel, this still counts as evidence because using the same tropes for Lumax and Jopper as Byler means that they are all romantic.

1. I Lost You

The fact that Byler and Lumax's ones are in the same episode oh my god???? I honestly think this is intentional. While the 'I thought I lost you' thing is common in romantic tropes, to use it for three couples is very much insane and they must have noticed this. Putting the two in the same episode as well..... oh my god

2. Holding Hands

I think that the fact its a parallel is not intentional, but hand holding is just very very common as a romantic trope. It's also the truth that they actually create a separate SHOT for each of these moments too, to signify their importance.

3. A Team

(couldnt find a good screenshot with a caption for byler but there is alt text)

If you want two people to have believable chemistry, you make them work together well. It was never explicitly stated that Jancy were a good team, but you could tell. HOWEVER THIS IS JUST EXPLICIT they are spelling it out for u!!! Mike and El never really work together. They are a couple. But they aren't a team. They don't work together on plans, there's never any back and forth planning (like with byler in s3), and once again, it's never ever acknowledged by either of them that they work well together as a team.

4. On the Bus

Both heart-to-heart scenes use this song behind it:

Oh this is highly highly intentional. You do not just use romantic, TENDER EMOTIONAL music for one couple who are definitely romantic, and then put that in the background of a platonic scene. The creators are literally screaming at u guys here <3 THIS IS SUPPOSED TO BE ROMANTICCC HELLO

(also both these scenes end with them smiling at the other and they get interrupted by a noise before anything else can happen)

5. We have to kill it

Sorry guys i totally forgot to include this one in the Jancy parallel post but literally fucking LOOK!! This is intentional to me because it is very specific, and if it's an accident that they all want to kill something and the other one agrees, then it still shows that these couples have chemistry because they are on the same page. AND one of them is reassuring the other, foreshadowing that they are gonna be a team in the next season.

Jancy are a team in season 2 after they have this convo in season 1, and Jopper are a team in season 3 after having this convo in season 2. So byler will be a team in season 5.

6. Staying in the Hospital

Honestly this one's just cute, and recontextualises the fact that Mike peers over Will on the bed, and stays by him (even though it doesnt really need recontextualising). The fact that its very romantic and cute for Lumax to do it should mean the exact same thing for Mike to do it.

7. Looking longingly at someone who's pulling away

erm this one is just so clear to me. Not exactly intentional but like- the thing with staring at someone longingly just to have them not look back at you is very slow burn romance. The fact that it's very obvious to ppl that Max is definitely aware of Lucas staring at her, but can't stare back because she's afraid to hurt him/ afraid to show her feelings again definitely parallels Mike too.

Also both Lucas and Max SIGH before going back to what they're doing...

8. TENDER EMOTIONAL MUSIC

so a tender emotional music scene for jopper makes it feel romantic:

Sooooo.... doesn't that mean that it applies for byler too?? Who had it done to them not one, not two, but THREE TIMES IN SEASON 4???

AND LUMAX HAS A SCENE WITH THIS TOO

Thanks for reading yet another long ass post :))) The next ones probably going to be Rovickie parallels because they actually have so many after doing my research so yeah

[tkdb-hell]

#23 and #4 - Subaru x reader!

(i love your work btw keep it up :D)

#23 - A kiss that tastes of the food/dessert they are eating.

Kisses Prompt List • Kisses Masterlist

(I do my best to write the reader as gender neutral unless otherwise specified - if you send me an ask and prefer masc or fem, please let me know)

♡ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT ♡

thank youuu <3

The soft patter of rain against the windows filled the quiet Hotarubi dorm, a sound that felt strangely intimate. Subaru sat across from you, the faint scent of matcha hanging in the air, blending perfectly with the warmth of the space.

You were talking about something—your latest case, maybe, or some odd anomaly you’d encountered—but Subaru could barely keep track. His attention was torn between the delicate sway of your voice and the way you licked the faintest trace of green matcha foam from your bottom lip.

He quickly looked down at his own cup, hoping you didn’t notice the flush spreading across his face. It’s just matcha. Just… matcha. But it wasn’t just matcha, and it wasn’t just you.

Subaru had always liked matcha: its earthy bitterness, the way it clung to his tongue before giving way to subtle sweetness. And you… You were something else entirely. The way you laughed, the way you always remembered to bring him a cup of tea when he looked like he’d overworked himself—it was almost enough to make him forget the weight he carried every day.

And now the two were tangled together, impossible to separate.

“Subaru?” Your voice pulled him back to the present.

He blinked, realizing you were leaning closer, concern etched across your face. “Are you okay? You’ve been staring at your tea for a while now.”

“O-Oh, sorry,” he mumbled, sitting up straighter. “Just… lost in thought.”

You smiled, the soft curve of your lips catching the light, and took another sip of your matcha latte. The faint green foam lingered on your lips again, teasing him in ways he wasn’t prepared for.

“Subaru, you’ve got to try this,” you said, holding your cup out to him. “It’s so good.”

He hesitated, being careful not to let his hand brush yours as he took the cup, lest his stigma take over the situation. The warmth of your smile lingered, making his heart stutter. He took a sip, the taste washing over him like a wave of nostalgia. “You’re right,” he murmured. “It’s… perfect.”

When he handed the cup back, your fingers brushed his.

“Subaru?”

Your voice was softer now, uncertain but inviting. He met your gaze, violet locking onto yours, and the noise of the rain faded into nothing. He didn’t know who moved first—maybe you, maybe him—but the next thing he knew, your lips were on his.

The taste of matcha hit him first, bittersweet and familiar, but then there was you. The warmth of your lips, the faint hum of surprise in your throat, the way your hand brushed his cheek—it all combined into something that stole the air from his lungs.

When you finally pulled away, Subaru’s breath came in short, uneven bursts. His face burned, and he couldn’t meet your eyes, but the faint taste of you lingered on his tongue. It wasn’t just the matcha—it was the way you somehow made something he already loved into something infinitely better.

“You… taste like matcha,” he said, his voice embarrassingly unsteady.

You blinked, then laughed softly, your cheeks tinted pink. “I didn’t think you’d mind.”

He swallowed hard, trying to steady himself. “I don’t.” He looked at you then, a small, genuine smile tugging at his lips. “Not at all.”

The rain continued to fall, but Subaru didn’t hear it. All he could think about was the taste of matcha and you—two things he was beginning to realize he could never get enough of.

[heavens-moonlight]

𝗕𝗢𝗥𝗗𝗘𝗥𝗟𝗜𝗡𝗘𝗦 | 𝟬𝟳 : 𝗔𝗟𝗠𝗢𝗦𝗧 𝗜𝗦 𝗡𝗘𝗩𝗘𝗥 𝗘𝗡𝗢𝗨𝗚𝗛

𝟬𝟲 : 𝗕𝗟𝗔𝗖𝗞 𝗛𝗘𝗔𝗥𝗧𝗦

Authors Note: It has seriously been so long but I've been gone to study as well as test for my boards and didn't want any distractions, but I’m back and more motivated than ever! Thank you so much for all the messages of concern (that I am now only getting around to seeing). This was originally supposed to go up a bit sooner but I thought it was too heavy to start 2025 off with so it's here now instead. Happy New Year to everyone and if you're still reading this story I hope you can excuse the time off in exchange for more frequent updates now that I actually have time to myself. As always, I'd love to hear what you think! Until next time ♡

Faint morning sunlight filters through the sheer white curtains, casting a muted glow in the room. The quiet murmur of the world you've grown accustomed to is now inaudible, muffled by the window's thick glass, separating illusion from reality.

In this hushed room, the oppressive silence adheres to you like second skin, suffocating you in the familiarity—and the loneliness. Even as the clock on the wall ticks away signaling the passage of time, it's not enough to drown out the feeling that it has long since stopped—stalled at a moment where nothing feels possible, where hope is just an echo of something impossible.

A sense of heaviness settles atop your body, aching as though it has been carrying the weight of far too many days for far too long.

Your eyelids flutter open languidly, the effort of rising from the darkness of sleep too much to take. For a moment, you sit still, staring at the tender rays filtering in, but it offers no warmth, only a pale reminder of things that once felt brighter.

Feeble shadows dance across the walls, reflecting off the surface of the floors.

In the dulled haze of the scattered sunbeams, the light is neither enough to pierce through the darkness of your dismal dreams nor your despairing reality.

The beautiful, soft, and serene sunlight doesn't touch your heart any longer, for even if it did, it wouldn't change a single thing.

It feels like a lie, that sunlight.

It promises warmth, but it doesn't deliver.

Your chin quivers and you bring your fingers to your face, rubbing your eyes in an effort to physically hold back the tears. Wanting to close your eyes for just a second, even that small release of tension only makes you more aware of the pressure in your chest.

Only when warm hands envelop your own to gently pull them away do you turn to its source.

Jun-Hee's brown eyes are the first thing you see and shielding your heart, you remain strong, holding his gaze.

It brings you comfort, but also trepidation, as you focus on his irises, a rich, deep hue contrasting that of the soulless, colorless shade of murky white imprinted in your subconscious.

Death was staring at you through his eyes in that vivid nightmare, and instead of running away, you had run toward it.

You both sit completely still in one another's presence for a couple more minutes before the familiar lump lodges its way in your throat the longer you look at him and circling through a million what-if's.

It's too much.

Too much to keep pretending that things will get better.

No longer being able to ground your thoughts or steady your breaths, your hands fall from his and you rise on shaky feet, walking in a non-linear line seeking escape.

The silence swells again and you step forward, feet carrying you toward the door, each movement mechanical.

There's no destination in mind, no plan. Just the thought that perhaps if you walk long enough, if you move far enough, you can outrun whatever's holding you here.

But deep down, you know that you won't.

You know that you can't.

As you pass a mirror hung up on the adjacent wall, you stop short in your tracks.

You swallow, then blink at your reflection in the mirror, barely recognizable to your own self, splatters of blood dotted across your visage and eyes devoid of hope.

It makes you physically hurt.

It makes you want to scream out loud.

Instead, you bite down on your lip hard enough to draw blood and swipe at your own face, each pass more aggressive than the last.

No matter how hard you press, the streaks merely smear, yet refuse to disappear completely.

You wonder if this is how it will be once this is all over.

Try as you might, you can't imagine in the slightest ever being able to rid of the gruesome memories.

The tears.

The blood.

The deaths.

The world outside continues on, unchanged, while you remain stuck in this place, trapped in the moment between yesterday and tomorrow.

At the next raise of your hand, Jun-Hee winds his fingers around your wrist and tugs it down tenderly but still firmly enough that it brings you back to your senses.

The familiar rage and hurt bubble inside your chest and you force it down, bottling your emotions as you have always done.

Wordlessly, Jun-Hee throws open the room's door and drags you along on a path straight to the bathrooms.

He turns your shoulders, facing you away from the wall length mirrors, back pressed against the counter of sinks.

The light flickers overhead as you hang your head, silent sobs wracking your body. Jun-Hee stands in the doorway, heart twisting in his chest at the sight of you. For as long as he has known you, your strength had always been something he admired. But now, you were breaking, and he felt helpless.

"Seol-Hwa," he whispers, voice thick with emotion. "Please."

Your shoulders shudder as you look up, eyes swollen and red. The weight of everything you couldn't say crushes you, too heavy for words.

With determination, Jun-Hee crosses the threshold to stand in front of you, bending down to eye level and ever so gently reaching forward to cup your face in his hands. His touch is steady, even as he fears you would pull away hearing your breath hitch at the contact.

"Look at me," he murmurs, low and even. "I want you to see your reflection of yourself as I see you. Deflect all your pains, your worries, and your fears onto me. In my eyes, there is only you."

Tears make their descent down your face so you shakily inhale, trying to stop the streaming rivulets. Jun-Hee gingerly steps ever closer, thumbs brushing over your cheeks to trace the lines of every drop.

"I—I don't know how to fix it," you choke out, voice trembling. "No one can."

As your tears continue to fall unbidden, Jun-Hee sighs and reaches around you for a stack of paper towels, dampening them with cool water before softly wiping your face as if he were erasing the pain one swipe at a time.

Rather than pulling away or flinching, you surrender to the tender touch, breath slowing just a little with each movement. You can't help but to stare, the course of your nightmare haunting you even when awake.

"Why are you looking at me like that?"

"It's—" you pause, not knowing how to approach it. You decide if you didn't start, Jun-Hee wouldn't have to learn of the ending. "It's nothing."

"It's not nothing if it has you like this."

You shake your head, lips pressed into a firm line.

"Was it a bad dream?"

Hesitantly, you nod, tears brimming on your waterline once more. "In it...you left." It was neither of your faults, yet the words come out laced with bitterness yet also chock-full of longing, of pain, and of regret. "You left...and I was all alone."

Jun-Hee pulls you into a tight hug, tucking your head beneath his chin. He didn't have answers. He couldn't make it disappear. But he could be here. He could hold you.

"Is that what you're afraid of?" One hand comes to nestle the back of your head, patting softly in reassurance. "I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere."

Wrapping your arms around him, you rest your ear against his chest, finding solace in his beating heart signaling life, chambers of sound echoing your feelings for him.

"The future seems far too bleak to give us a choice to stay."

"In any circumstance, even if I had to leave, I would always come back to you, Seol- Hwa."

[ ʙᴇғᴏʀᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ʟᴀsᴛ ᴠᴏᴛᴇ ᴄʟᴏsᴇᴅ, ᴘᴏʟɪᴄᴇ ᴜsᴇᴅ ᴛʜᴇɪʀ sᴋɪʟʟ. ᴅᴜʀɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴇ ɴɪɢʜᴛ, ᴘᴀʀᴋ ᴊɪ-sᴏᴏ, ᴀ ᴄɪᴛɪᴢᴇɴ, ᴡᴀs ᴇxᴇᴄᴜᴛᴇᴅ ʙʏ ᴍᴀғɪᴀ. ᴀʟʟ ᴘᴀʀᴛɪᴄɪᴘᴀɴᴛs, ɪᴅᴇɴᴛɪғʏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴀғɪᴀ ᴀɴᴅ ʙᴇɢɪɴ ᴛᴏ ᴠᴏᴛᴇ. ]

The monotonous announcement drones on soporifically, seemingly mocking Yu-Jun's cries that nearly mask every single word like knives probing at the still-open wounds in his heart.

You can barely bring yourself to watch even after the others have left the scene one by one as Yu-Jun holds Ji-Soo's limp body in his arms behind the previously impenetrable door now split down the middle, a parallel to their parting.

"This can't be..." Yu-Jun intones in despair, shaking his girlfriend's shoulders to no avail. "I still need you here with me..."

Recognition comes at you in full force, causing you to stumble back, clutching at the doorframe in reliance as your head spins, the same exact words you had said to Jun-Hee in your nightmare reverberating in the dark recesses of your mind, echoing far too loud in the vicinity of the now empty hallway.

Sensing the movement, Yu-Jun glances over, a flash of surprise to see you still there, before it's gone and replaced by utter grief.

Pulling yourself together, you hesitantly approach. Even as you kneel down next to the two, you're met with no resistance nor reticence as you had expected.

"You don't have to stay. No one else did." Yu-Jun's voice is muffled as he pulls Ji-Soo ever closer, hunching over with his head against her own.

"I know I don't have to, but I want to," you emphasize.

At this, he looks up, confused. "I don't understand. I'm not someone who should be on the receiving end of kindness."

"That doesn't mean you deserve this," you gesture around, noticing somberly as his hands tighten, clutching at the fabric of Ji-Soo's now crinkled white shirt. "None of us do."

"Maybe I do." Yu-Jun stares straight forward at the wall, focusing on nothing. "Maybe this is karma for everything I've done wrong."

"We're people. Everyone makes mistakes. It's part of being human."

Yu-Jun chuckles darkly. "Tell me, what kind of mistake is this game then?"

"A fatal one."

There's a long stretch of silence between you two before he speaks up. "I'm sorry." You're taken aback by the sudden admission of regret, unable to hide your reaction. Yu-Jun clears his throat awkwardly before addressing you with sincerity. "My friend group, me included, haven't always been the nicest to you or yours and even though I knew it deep down, I never owned up to it. On behalf of them and myself, I want to apologize." His breaths come out ragged with so much still to convey between every intake of air. "In case—" he glances down again at Ji-Soo in his arms and brushes away stray strands of hair from her face. "—I don't get the chance to say the things I've saved to say."

"Do you have words that you regret never having said?"

"Three. Only three."

You can guess what it is without confirmation from the way Yu-Jun's lips quiver, eyes filled with unshed tears.

"Stay alive for her."

"I don't know if I can."

"You will," you respond with certainty, rising back on your feet.

"How are you so sure?"

"Are there not people you still want to save, including yourself?"

Realization finally makes its way onto his face. "H-How did you figure it out? T-That I'm a doctor?" The words come out in broken stutters.

You pull out your phone and turn it around, showing the resurrection screen. "It's hard to recognize those against you, but it's even harder to recognize those with you. We shouldn't let one another down."

Yu-Jun opens and closes his mouth, struggling to find the right words to say. "I feel as though I've already disappointed so many. A second chance is not something I deserve."

"Rather than saying you don't deserve things, prove that you do."

"Do you...not have any desire to reserve revival for yourself? "

"I could, but that defeats the whole purpose of this responsibility assigned to us in saving the innocent. Doctors place the needs of others before their own. Is that not what we are now?"

Yu-Jun's entire demeanor shifts from reluctant to resolute, from hopeless to hopeful. "I'll do my best so that no more sacrifices will be done in vain."

A faint smile adorns your face, acknowledging the partnership wordlessly. "Whatever happens, don't forget to protect yourself even as you're protecting the others."

Yu-Jun makes a sound of affirmation as you turn to leave. "Wait—"

You look back over your shoulder. "What is it?"

"You're a really good person, Seol-Hwa, just as Jun-Hee has always said. I see why he likes you so much."

Faltering, the corner of your lips imperceptibly curl downward. "We're best friends. He's obligated to say that."

"I don't think feelings are an obligation."

"Feelings never do well in a life or death situation."

"Do you have words that you regret never having said?" Yu-Jun uses your own verbatim against you.

Your eyes waver but you tamper down your emotions, refusing to let them show. "I had a dream last night where I said the words I've always wanted to say and Jun-Hee and I still wind up, over and over again, at only one ending sequence."

"And that ending is?"

Swiveling your head back around to hide the tears wanting to fall, you whisper quietly before walking away, "The same as your's."

Despite Yu-Jun declining to join, the rest reconvene in the deserted warehouse, as barren and cold as you were feeling.

Everyone is on edge, warily eyeing one another, no longer trying to hide the smallest ounce of suspicion.

Yoon-Seo speaks up next to you, words curt as she crosses her arms across her chest. "What's the reason for calling all of us down here?"

If it was possible, Kyung-Jun is even more patronizing, walking back and forth in the center with his head held high. Haughtily, he turns to the group. "Do you all not know or are you pretending not to?" He smirks. "Park Woo-Ram, that bastard, the one who deceived all of you was the Mafia. Just who was the only person to pinpoint that?" Throwing his hands up in a show of bravado, he motions for applause. "Me."

Solely, Seung-Bin claps, always one to grovel at his leader's feet. "Of course, it's no one else but you with the great hunch." His positive countenance morphs to one of disdain, transitioned so seamlessly, that it makes you wonder if he has ever displayed a genuine expression. "I can't say the same for you lot of Police. Whoever you all are, you could learn a thing or two from Kyung-Jun."

The person in question waves him off to the back and steps forward, hands in his pockets. "Hear that? If you want to catch the Mafia, do as I say."

Beside you, Jun-Hee deadpans, "Do what?"

"You'll take turns saying who you think is guilty and I'll pick for you."

Whispers grow amongst your classmates and you can sense the growing frustration directed at a single player.

Scoffing, Jun-Hee shakes his head in disbelief. "Who are you to decide? It's up to all of us."

"There's not enough collective intelligence for us to do that. Did you all forget how and why I nearly died last night? Who other than me is definitely a Citizen?" Kyung-Jun strides the length of the room as he scrutinizes everyone in turn, shaking his pointer finger in succession but ultimately drops it as he reaches you. Seeing your mien of indifference, he pivots back around, leaving his next words hanging in the air. "I think the rest of the Mafia members are hidden among those who voted for me yesterday."

"That doesn't mean anything," Na-Hee defends.

"Oh really?" Kyung-Jun whirls back around, fixating on Na-Hee and clucks his tongue at her. "On the contrary, it means everything. For the fact alone that you all sided with the opposition to rid of me. What clearer evidence is there?"

"How were we supposed to know?" Jun-Hee states clearly. "Don't judge based on one round where no one had the slightest clue."

"Then, what should I assess you on?" Kyung-Jun retorts. "Voting is the entire point of this game to figure out who's who."

"Your logic is shit if that's all you use to reason with," Jung-Won admonishes.

"You bitch—"

So-Mi cuts in abruptly, changing the topic of conversation for the time being. "What about Ji-Soo then? Why kill someone so randomly without the need to?"

"Who cares about intention when you yourself could die?"

Behind him, you can see Jin-Ha and Seung- Bin look at one another briefly, weary looks on their faces at Kyung-Jun's words, message loud and clear: Friendship amounts to nothing when it comes to survival.

Yeon-Woo timidly voices from the back. "So, Ji-Soo wasn't the Doctor then?"

"Read the notification carefully," Eun-Chan murmurs to his friend. "She was a Citizen, but that doesn't mean Yu-Jun is."

“Yesterday," Da-Bum adds, "the Police used their skill, so why didn't the Doctor?"

Mi-Na bites at her nails. "Right, because then Ji-Soo would still be here."

You catch sight of Yu-Jun outside through the metal bars across the window opening and once your eyes meet, he hangs his head in shame, walking away forlornly, no longer wanting to listen any further.

No one else notices the exchange and you breathe out on a long exhale, just as much guilty.

"Don't you all think it's weird?" So-Mi's question draws the interest of those next to her. "On the third floor, it was just Ji-Soo and Yu-Jun alone. How come only one of them made it out alive?"

Mi-Na looks over at So-Mi with a gasp. "Could Yu-Jun be a Mafia?"

"Damn," Jin-Ha intones. "If that's true, he really took his girlfriend's life."

In order to not compromise the chance of survival, although knowing that couldn't be farther from the truth especially after seeing the aftermath of the two, you bite down on your tongue to keep peace.

"She did always give him a hard time, what with telling him off and her short temper..." Yeon-Woo trails off.

"Enough of this useless talk that serves no real purpose in pressing matters." Despite the silent resistance, Kyung-Jun still mongers fear in the rest. "I'll single out someone as I see fit."

"How funny! He thinks he's actually in charge," Jung-Won mutters under her breath.

"This one." He spurns her and focuses on Jun-Hee, gesturing condescendingly. "You can tell when he did all that he could to safeguard Woo-Ram."

"Anyone would've done so to save someone who we thought would be a Citizen," you spit out. "Haven't we all been betrayed by someone we trusted?" Kyung-Jun's eyes slide over to yours, jaw clenched, not missing what you alluded to. "If it wasn't you against him, would you be able to say there wasn't even a one percent chance where you couldn't believe him?" His eyes don't leave yours, watching intently your effort at justification. "In the end, we're just victims of a killer."

"Seol-Hwa's right," Na-Hee agrees meekly. "We shouldn't vote just because of a wrong guess."

"Then, let's vote for the right guess this time: Jun-Hee."

"Don't you know about presuming innocence? Stop insisting when you don't have proof." You glare him down. "This isn't a witch hunt where we vote on the basis of who we dislike most."

Kyung-Jun steps toward you and you can feel Yoon-Seo grab your elbow to pull you back but you don't budge even as he bends down, tilting his head to the side, gazing steadfastly at you. "Do you have evidence then?" He fixes you with a challenging stare, reversing your words. "We can't defend based on who we like most."

"You want evidence?" He falters as you merely smile without any real happiness behind it. "I have it."

The hum of the old computer fan is the only sound in the small, dimly lit basement before the clicking of keys fills the silence, rhythmic, almost hypnotic.

Jung-Won's fingertips run across the keyboard, eyes locked on the screen, face bathed in the pale glow of the monitor. She wasn't aware of those standing behind her, too focused, too intent, to notice the interest of the rest, and the trepidation of yours.

"We can get the entire Mafia crew in one go if I manage to pull this off."

From the shadows of the basement, the sound of Seung-Bin's foot tapping repetitively against the floor echoes incessantly. "This is useless. Can't you work any faster than at the rate of a turtle?" His voice breaks the stillness of the room, laced with frustration.

"You're also useless. You have no right to speak," Jung-Won berates, tone sharp as she adds to the tension.

You see the screen flash and spring up from your seat next to Jun-Hee atop a half broken wooden bench discarded in the room. "Do you see anything?"

"I thought I would but..." Jung-Won spins in her chair to face you, "it's all deleted. The files are completely wiped—everything on the drive."

"That can't be." You refuse to even entertain the thought that someone else could've chanced upon this room, especially not after the weird circumstance in which you found it. "Look again." Grabbing Jung-Won's arm a bit too tightly, you urge her to scour the different file locations.

An uneasy silence hangs in the air as you both turn toward the computer once again. Your eyes bat nervously from folder to folder, trying to find something—anything—but the cursor only blinks in emptiness, mocking your desperation.

"It's not that," Jung-Won says aloud as she clicks around, clattering growing louder in defiance. "Any remaining content on here wasn't formatted properly from the start. Whoever had access to this in the first place made sure no else would after them. All traces are erased."

You can't answer right away. Jung-Won's gaze is fixed, but her fingers had slowed. The screen blinks once, twice, before the folder she'd been trying to open vanishes entirely.

A chill runs down your spine.

"It's not... it's not possible..." you whisper, words in tatters. You reach for the mouse but the screen flickers then blacks out entirely as a faint row of red text flashes in the corner.

Deleted: System Error.

The room goes deathly still.

You squeeze your eyes together tightly, stomach in knots and heart plummeting.

"Han Seol-Hwa," comes Jin-Ha's voice. "Were you trying to fool us all? Bring up nonexistent evidence? Nice team-play, Mafias."

"It's not like that! They knew of it beforehand. We're too late!" you shout back, knowing full well evading this accusation just became that much more difficult.

Jin-Ha is about to open his mouth again to reproach you, but one look from Kyung-Jun shuts him up immediately despite his growing displeasure at the newfound tandem. The latter studies you, gauging. "Are you doing this for yourself or for someone else? This whole thing was only brought up because I cornered Jun-Hee earlier."

"Let's calm down and consider the situation first." Yu-Jun sends you what he thinks is a look of support, but even in his encouragement, you can sense that worry outweighed it.

"Don't think you're off the hook either, girlfriend murderer," Kyung-Jun warns Yu-Jun.

"Did you, or did you not, know that this place would have bird's eye view of everything because you were planning to rid of evidence from the beginning?" Jin-Ha corrals you into another corner and you can sense Kyung-Jun holding himself back from going rouge on him.

Jung-Won is by your side in an instant, hands around your shoulders. "You're even dumber than you look."

"Yah!"

"If that was her intention, why would she willingly bring us all here? Unless you've been lobotomized, in what world would someone expose themselves if they're at fault?"

"Whatever," Kyung-Jun concludes, and you look away, expecting him to vote for you without doubt as his finger taps at his screen with finality. "My intuition has never been wrong."

Before the intercom can even announce his choice, Jin-Ha steps in between him and the door, eyes shifting from you to Kyung-Jun and back, equal parts in disbelief and anger. "Have you gone crazy? What are you doing?!"

Seung-Bin stands stunned, looking between the two.

"Didn't you two say that I had a great hunch a few moments ago and everyone should take note?" Kyung-Jun shoves Jin-Ha aside, the shorter of the two bumping into the wall with a thud before a finger is jabbed into the middle of his chest. "Get to learning, bastard."

"Aish shibal!"Jin-Ha curses after his leader's retreating back as Seung-Bin drags him along, the three exiting ultimately with unanimous votes, choices conformed to Kyung-Jun's.

As Mi-Na and Eun-Chan turn to leave as well, you grab at them in a rush. "I really am a Citizen." At their unconvinced looks, you double down. "I'll prove that I am. Please, at least give me until the end of today."

With their evidently remaining suspicions, Eun-Ha comes to your aid. "I trust her. If there's one person who I'm most certain is a Citizen, it has to be Seol-Hwa." She reaches out her hand and gives yours a light squeeze even as your own shakes against hers.

[ ɢᴏ ᴋʏᴜɴɢ-ᴊᴜɴ ʜᴀs ᴠᴏᴛᴇᴅ ғᴏʀ ᴋɪᴍ ᴊᴜɴ-ʜᴇᴇ. ]

[ sʜɪɴ sᴇᴜɴɢ-ʙɪɴ ʜᴀs ᴠᴏᴛᴇᴅ ғᴏʀ ᴋɪᴍ ᴊᴜɴ-ʜᴇᴇ. ]

[ ᴋɪᴍ ᴊɪɴ-ʜᴀ ʜᴀs ᴠᴏᴛᴇᴅ ғᴏʀ ᴋɪᴍ ᴊᴜɴ-ʜᴇᴇ. ]

"I'll be able to restore a few files if I spend a bit more time familiarizing myself with this interface," Jung-Won declares resolutely and you, once again, feel guilty for harboring doubts against her. "I can at least promise this."

"Yes, guys," Na-Hee adds on. "We can vote before night falls once we've all calmed down and have more sound reasoning."

Da-Bum nods in agreement. "We'll know for sure by then. Let's not jump to a decision."

Eun-Ha nudges Mi-Na and Eun-Chan on either side of her, before turning around to motion at Yeon-Woo with her head. They all relent, albeit reluctantly, and as Eun-Ha follows them out of the room, she turns back to give you a half smile in silent support.

So-Mi merely smirks and leaves with everyone else aside from your immediate group, her steps light, your distress her happiness.

You plop back down on the bench and cover your face with your hands. "This is a disaster."

Hyun-Ho scoots in beside you and pats you on the head comfortingly.

"Don't give up just yet." Dong-Hyun fiddles around with the multiple outdated TV's on the opposite wall. "We won't either."

"Da-Bum," Jung-Won calls. "Did you by chance bring a laptop with you?"

"Yeah, why?"

"I need all the help I can get. With your assistance, we should be able to regain lost footage at the earliest an hour before midnight."

"Is that possible? To restore everything?" Da-Bum questions.

"Of course not everything, but if we try our best, clips from the third floor hallway where the incident happened last night is completely doable." Jung-Won is entirely confident as she notifies the group chat while Da-Bum rushes off to get the additional device needed.

Their efforts on behalf of you warm your heart, yet deep down, you can't bring yourself to bask in the momentary peace.

Saving yourself will mean losing Jun-Hee.

The city lights on high above the rooftop cast a backdrop of white behind Jun-Hee, the stark contrast against his black hair like a shining halo.

When he turns to look at you, you can't find it in yourself to hold eye contact, instantly drowning anew in the visions of your nightmare, slipping beneath a blanket of white, the color of surrender.

You wrap your arms around yourself as the frigid night air bites against your skin, and noticing your shivering, Jun-Hee scoots in noticeably closer, pressed against your side in an attempt to offer warmth.

"Is it difficult for you?"

"What is?"

"Giving me your full support, trusting me— believing me without doubt."

Jun-Hee pulls your head onto his shoulder and leans his own against yours. "It's the opposite. You make it easy. I can entrust you with my life."

"Even if all the evidence is evading me?"

"Even then."

Closing your eyes, you let the rise and fall of his shoulder as he breathes calm you. "Why do you trust me so much?"

"I know the kind of person you are, and I know your heart."

"If everyone were to lose their trust in me, as long as you still believe in me, I don't need anything else."

"I'll always be by your side."

"It's weird," you begin. "Not once have I ever thought about my biggest fear, but every night since we have been here, the scent of death keeps lingering, both in my reality and subconscious. I can't rid of it."

"Anyone would say the same."

"Would you?"

"My only fear is that I won't be able to protect you until the end."

You raise your head only to find him already looking at you.

"Is it selfish of me to say that I'm scared? I know the possibility of making it out of here is close to none, but to imagine myself dying, I simply can't." Unabashed, you find yourself crying, tears falling down in twin trails against your cheeks. "I don't want to go like this."

"Who says you have to?" Jun-Hee's right hand cups the side of your face and with his thumb, he brushes away the teardrops cascading down, a mirrored reflection of the morning. "I would never let you die. Until my last breath, I'll make sure you're safe."

"You should always put yourself first, Jun- Hee."

Pulling his hand away from your face, he cradles both of your hands in between his and tightens his own around them.

"Don't you know that I would die for you?"

Shaking your head, you try to get him to rescind his words. "I'm not someone of importance you should sacrifice yourself for."

He smiles lightly. "To me, no one is more important than you—not even my own self."

Your breath catches in your throat and you swallow around the lump forming. "Promise me we'll go home together once this is all over."

Jun-Hee's eyes waver with uncertainty but ultimately nods. "I promise."

"You know it would never be home without you right?"

"Neither without you, Seol-Hwa."

"Then, you can never leave me here alone, if you aren't with me."

"How cute," Jun-Hee suddenly intones and you're taken aback at the fond way he says it. "You think it's possible for me to quit you." He slides off of the bench you two are sitting on, before kneeling down in front of you. From his pockets, he dangles a braided red string between his fingers as he looks up at you, the glimmer of stars reflecting in his eyes. "I wanted to give you this for our friendship anniversary but more than ever, there's no time like the present."

"You've kept this with you the whole time?"

Jun-Hee nods, fiddling with the thin strands to tie around your wrist. "I recently went to Jejudo with my parents and this really kind elderly craftsmen told me these can serve as wish bracelets, granting what the wearer most desires in their hearts." He rotates the woven strings around and you see a small white jade flower charm, its center hollowed-out, dangling from the middle. A snow flower. Your namesake. "The harabeoji said to me, with the brightest smile on his face, that I looked like I had a hidden wish but seemed far too skeptical for his liking. To my surprise, he gifted me with two and told me that sometimes, luck comes only once in a lifetime."

Grinning, he presses the textured string into your outstretched hand and you settle his forearm in your lap, wrapping the bracelet around the opposite wrist you were wearing yours on. His charm is the piece that completes yours, a simple solid sphere—a perfect match.

"I heard that until your wish comes true, the string shouldn't break prematurely, or it will never come to fruition."

"That's what the harabeoji reminded me of too, but I believe ours will be granted." "Do you really think that luck only comes once in a lifetime?"

"I don't know about that, but what I do know is that I must've used all my luck in order to meet someone like you." Jun-Hee runs his thumb over the inside of your wrist where the stone pendant rests against your pulse point, a line leading to your heart. "You're my once in a lifetime person, Seol- Hwa."

A few hours later and your unease has yet to settle, not even at the confirmation text from Jung-Won alerting to her success.

"I think it's safe to say that we'll have the most important of clues as evidence." After a final flurry of movements, Jung-Won stretches her fingers. "There. It's done." She points to the screen and those closest to her promptly swarm the monitor to see. "With the time limit I had, I was only able to bring back the film from yesterday, but that should be more than enough to figure out who entered the room where Yu-Jun and Ji-Soo were."

Before you even have the chance to breathe a sigh of reprieve, smoke starts rising from the console as sparks fly, only briefly at first and then heightening into a full blown flame.

Jun-Hee grabs the nearest fire extinguisher and douses the system unit, but all that remains in the fallout is charred metal. You stare at the black matter, the futility of it ridiculing.

Kyung-Jun touches the box only to recoil at the heat that singes his skin. It's beyond saving and he can only chuckle. "As if murder wasn't enough, you all want to add arson to your list of crimes too? Was this a ploy in hopes that we would all burn down? Is that it?"

"Guys—" Eun-Chan interjects, pointing a shaky finger at the monitor in the corner of the room everyone ignored up until now. "What the hell is that?!" At his question, the screen lights up with colored strips of static that steadies into clear footage, the pool coming into view.

Except, it isn't the only thing visible.

Long dark hair masks the face of an otherworldly figure standing eerily still in the middle of the scene, hands at her sides. For some inexplicable reason, you feel like you've seen her before.

"Seol-Hwa's right..." Na-Hee utters, panic-stricken. "There really is a ghost..."

At that, you suddenly remember the photo you still had in your possession. Drawing it out of your skirt pocket, you briskly extend it toward the group, directing them to focus on one particular individual. "I think... there's something other than us here. She— that apparition—must have something to do with the game."

"Stop with your nonsense," Jin-Ha chastises. "You all must've faked this video to rid of skepticism."

"You idiot," Jung-Won retorts. "Look at the live stamp. It's filming in real time. I know using your brain isn't something you tend to do, but at the very least, tell me your eyes work."

"Whatever this may be," you start, eyeing everyone in succession, "will you just simply go along with it and play the game until we all perish? What if you win? Do you think you can actually make it out of here alive?" Your voice rises, both in exasperation and resentment. "Is it possible for any of us to be the same afterward?" Shaking your head, you fix the rest with a steely glare. "Get a grip! If we find the correlation between every cryptic piece of information, we might finally be able to break free of this illusion."

Without waiting for a response or agreement, you dash off toward the pool, and as you arrive, to your astonishment, the rest ended up following.

Aside from your friend group, Eun-Ha, Na- Hee, and Yu-Jun, the remaining ones do nothing to help. While you search high and low for the right angle the footage could've been captured from—even a glimpse of a hidden camera—the clock ticks by, drawing ever nearer to the hour of death.

"Time's almost up," Kyung-Jun reminds. "Are you all abandoning the poll then?"

"How about we vote in a different way?" Jun-Hee suggests.

So-Mi runs one hand through her hair as she stands akimbo. "I know you mean well, but we don't have enough time to think of another plan. How are we to do it?"

Kyung-Jun casts her aside carelessly and she stumbles, sending him dirty looks from behind his back. "Do you think we're foolish enough to go along with your idea once again? After your last one nearly ended us all? What bullshit are you spewing now?"

"Listen to him first and then decide," Jung-Won reasons, and that settles it for the time being, her intelligence holding weight.

"We have sixteen votes between all of us, and the basis for execution is by the majority. So, why don't we divide the remaining votes equally?"

"Aren't you just trying to save yourself at this point?" Kyung-Jun questions. "You've already received three. Why not take one for the team?"

"I would gladly do it as a last resort."

Jung-Won steps in before pessimism calls for drastic measures. "If I understand this correctly, you want for us to try splitting our choices in order to force a tie?"

"Yes." Jun-Hee's validation draws both curious and concerned murmurs from the group. "If we do so, it will guarantee that all of us will vote without abstaining, and that one person won't be fixed as a target. It'll bypass all the rules we've learned of so far."

"But, who will be one the one to receive the other half of the votes?"

"I will."

"Are you out of your damn mind?!" Kyung-Jun outstretches his hand, almost as if to convince you otherwise, but withdraws when it occurs to him the setting, opting to clench it at his side instead, the vein on his neck visible even under the dim lights.

"Why?" you press. "You all suspected me from the get-go, did you not?" That stuns everyone into silence, unable to refute. "I won't blame anyone. This is my choice."

[ ᴊɪɴ ᴅᴀ-ʙᴜᴍ ʜᴀs ᴠᴏᴛᴇᴅ ғᴏʀ ʜᴀɴ sᴇᴏʟ-ʜᴡᴀ. ]

[ ᴋɪᴍ ᴊᴜɴ-ʜᴇᴇ ʜᴀs ᴠᴏᴛᴇᴅ ғᴏʀ ᴏʜ ᴊᴜɴɢ-ᴡᴏɴ. ]

[ ɪᴍ ᴇᴜɴ-ᴄʜᴀɴ ʜᴀs ᴠᴏᴛᴇᴅ ғᴏʀ ɴᴀᴍ ʏᴇᴏɴ-ᴡᴏᴏ. ]

[ ɴᴀᴍ ʏᴇᴏɴ-ᴡᴏᴏ ʜᴀs ᴠᴏᴛᴇᴅ ғᴏʀ ɪᴍ ᴇᴜɴ-ᴄʜᴀɴ. ]

[ ᴀʜɴ ɴᴀ-ʜᴇᴇ ʜᴀs ᴠᴏᴛᴇᴅ ғᴏʀ ʜᴀɴ sᴇᴏʟ-ʜᴡᴀ. ]

[ ᴏʜ ᴊᴜɴɢ-ᴡᴏɴ ʜᴀs ᴠᴏᴛᴇᴅ ғᴏʀ ʜᴀɴ sᴇᴏʟ-ʜᴡᴀ. ]

[ ʟᴇᴇ ʏᴏᴏɴ-sᴇᴏ ʜᴀs ᴠᴏᴛᴇᴅ ғᴏʀ ʜᴀɴ sᴇᴏʟ-ʜᴡᴀ. ]

[ ʙᴀᴇᴋ ᴇᴜɴ-ʜᴀ ʜᴀs ᴠᴏᴛᴇᴅ ғᴏʀ ᴋɪᴍ ᴊᴜɴ-ʜᴇᴇ. ]

[ ʜᴀɴ sᴇᴏʟ-ʜᴡᴀ ʜᴀs ᴠᴏᴛᴇᴅ ғᴏʀ ᴋɪᴍ ᴊᴜɴ-ʜᴇᴇ. ]

[ ᴋɪᴍ ᴅᴏɴɢ-ʜʏᴜɴ ʜᴀs ᴠᴏᴛᴇᴅ ғᴏʀ ʜᴀɴ sᴇᴏʟ-ʜᴡᴀ. ]

[ ᴊᴀɴɢ ʜʏᴜɴ-ʜᴏ ʜᴀs ᴠᴏᴛᴇᴅ ғᴏʀ ᴋɪᴍ ᴊᴜɴ-ʜᴇᴇ. ]

[ ᴄʜᴀ ʏᴜ-ᴊᴜɴ ʜᴀs ᴠᴏᴛᴇᴅ ғᴏʀ ᴋɪᴍ sᴏ-ᴍɪ. ]

[ ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ ɪs ᴀ ᴍɪɴᴜᴛᴇ ʀᴇᴍᴀɪɴɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴠᴏᴛᴇ. ]

[ ᴄʜᴏɪ ᴍɪ-ɴᴀ ʜᴀs ᴠᴏᴛᴇᴅ ғᴏʀ ᴋɪᴍ sᴏ-ᴍɪ. ]

[ ᴋɪᴍ sᴏ-ᴍɪ ʜᴀs ᴠᴏᴛᴇᴅ ғᴏʀ ʜᴀɴ sᴇᴏʟ-ʜᴡᴀ. ]

[ ᴠᴏᴛɪɴɢ ɪs ɴᴏᴡ ᴄʟᴏsᴇᴅ. ]

Never has the stretch of sixty seconds felt so long as it did waiting for the follow-up announcement.

But, nothing comes.

Tears of happiness and shrieks of excitement ring through as everyone gathers into group hugs, exclaiming words of congratulations, but soon enough, the first flicker of red lights overhead remind you that it is too good to be true.

It is always too good to be true.

[ ᴀs ᴋɪᴍ ᴊᴜɴ-ʜᴇᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ʜᴀɴ sᴇᴏʟ-ʜᴡᴀ ʀᴇᴄᴇɪᴠᴇᴅ ᴛʜᴇ sᴀᴍᴇ ɴᴜᴍʙᴇʀ ᴏғ ᴠᴏᴛᴇs, ᴘʟᴇᴀsᴇ ʜᴏʟᴅ ᴛʜᴇ sᴇᴄᴏɴᴅ ʀᴏᴜɴᴅ ᴏғ ᴠᴏᴛɪɴɢ ᴡɪᴛʜɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ɴᴇxᴛ ғɪᴠᴇ ᴍɪɴᴜᴛᴇs. ᴛʜᴏsᴇ ᴡʜᴏ ᴅɪᴅ ɴᴏᴛ ᴄʜᴏᴏsᴇ ᴇɪᴛʜᴇʀ ɪɴɪᴛɪᴀʟʟʏ ᴡɪʟʟ ᴠᴏᴛᴇ ᴀɢᴀɪɴ. ɪғ ʙᴏᴛʜ ᴘʟᴀʏᴇʀs ᴀʀᴇ sᴛɪʟʟ ᴛɪᴇᴅ ʙʏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴇɴᴅ ᴏғ ᴛʜᴇ sᴇᴛ ᴛɪᴍᴇ, ᴇᴠᴇʀʏᴏɴᴇ ᴡɪʟʟ ʙᴇ ᴇxᴇᴄᴜᴛᴇᴅ. ]

Da-Bum's consternation only serves to intensify the collective panic as the lights dim into obscurity. "We can't just all die here!"

The blaring may drown out the screams, but the horrified looks on everyone's faces ceases to fade, guises set deeper by the shadows casted.

Kyung-Jun points a finger at Jun-Hee while taking steps backward, already set to flee. "I knew it! It should have ended with him!"

Eun-Chan's phone nearly drops out of his hold. "Only five of us should vote right? Aside from myself, Yeon-Woo, Mi-Na, and Yu-Jun are also included. Anyone else?"

"Jun-Hee needs to recast his vote too," Da- Bum recalls. "He voted for Jung-Won earlier."

Jun-Hee turns to you, uttering so lowly you can barely tell if he was talking to himself or to you. "That means you already received one less vote..."

“What do we do?!" Mi-Na cries out.

Without hesitation, So-Mi condemns you while looking you dead in the eyes.

"Kim So-Mi!" Jun-Hee shouts angrily, but it's already too late.

She strides toward you and chucks your phone straight into the very bottom of the pool before yanking the school photo out of your hand, your grip having already gone limp long ago.

Tearing it into shreds, she proceeds to fling it upward into the air above, the pieces raining down on you like joss paper they burn for the dead.

"I thought it was odd when she talked about things that didn't exist and dragged us into this mess. It was going to be her anyway. Just do it!"

"This isn't right and you know it!" Jung-Won pushes her away from you, but all you can do is stand stunned, the sirens resounding far too deafeningly in your ears.

"Fuck!" comes Seung-Bin's agitated voice. "Vote for anyone, godammit!"

"All of this happened because of me," Jun-Hee addresses the group. "Choose me... because I'm the Mafia."

Only then do you snap out of your reverie, turning to him with urgency. "What are you doing? Why are you saying something that isn't true!"

He slights you and barrels on, eyes lifeless and fixated aimlessly. Consequent words that fall from his lips are too toneless, too flat, and too run-of-the-mill, for it to be an admission—all it is is a rehearsed cover up act. "I tricked you into giving up your phones so that it would be impossible to win. Any footage left remaining, I also deleted. If we had the time, I could go on and on about the truths I have hidden and the lies I have told. All I wanted was to survive, but killing people to do so...I cant bear it anymore."

"So he confesses in the end." Kyung-Jun scoffs. "It seems I'm right again."

Disregarding your surroundings, you move toward Jun-Hee and clutch at his hand, the warmth from earlier on the rooftop having dissipated. "I can't let you do this!" you sob out, choking over your words before they can even form. "If you're doing this to protect me, then break the promise you made to yourself. Break it over and over again. I'd trade it all, including myself, to keep you, please..."

It finally dawns on you that in exchange for not smashing the promise into a thousand pieces, your heart is the one that's shattered into a million pieces.

Jun-Hee at long last slides his eyes over to yours, and through your haze of tears, you can see him holding his own back from falling.

You hide your hurt, your disappointment, and your heartbreak, and he pretends he doesn't notice.

His eyes trail over every feature of your face, etching it into memory, and you feel your heart strings snap one by one as he looks at you like it's the last time he ever will.

"You promised! That you would be here for as long as I need you. I still need you, Jun-Hee..."

[ ᴄʜᴏɪ ᴍɪ-ɴᴀ ʜᴀs ᴠᴏᴛᴇᴅ ғᴏʀ ᴋɪᴍ ᴊᴜɴ-ʜᴇᴇ. ]

[ ɪᴍ ᴇᴜɴ-ᴄʜᴀɴ ʜᴀs ᴠᴏᴛᴇᴅ ғᴏʀ ᴋɪᴍ ᴊᴜɴ-ʜᴇᴇ. ]

Pounding footsteps grow fainter and fainter as the others run to safety, leaving everything else behind thoughtlessly.

[ ɴᴀᴍ ʏᴇᴏɴ-ᴡᴏᴏ ʜᴀs ᴠᴏᴛᴇᴅ ғᴏʀ ᴋɪᴍ ᴊᴜɴ-ʜᴇᴇ. ]

[ ᴄʜᴀ ʏᴜ-ᴊᴜɴ ʜᴀs ᴠᴏᴛᴇᴅ ғᴏʀ ᴋɪᴍ ᴊᴜɴ-ʜᴇᴇ. ]

[ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴏsᴛ ᴠᴏᴛᴇs ʀᴇᴄᴇɪᴠᴇᴅ, ᴋɪᴍ ᴊᴜɴ-ʜᴇᴇ ᴡɪʟʟ ʙᴇ ᴇxᴇᴄᴜᴛᴇᴅ. ]

Against the growing distance, you hold on until you can't anymore, until Jun-Hee's fingertips are no longer with reach, slipping away from you.

As you get pulled farther and farther away, the jade stone charm dangles in your peripheral vision and you make a wish.

One last chance at a saving grace.

Please, always come back to me.

When your tears distort the image of Jun-Hee in front of you, all you can feel is the bracelet still wound around your wrist, colored like the red string of fate, tethering you to him.

You cling to the string that feels like it's unwinding, holding on to the millions of fraying threads stretched between you two, keeping it from severing.

Gradually, he wanes from view and all that's left is a carmine inferno in your vision.

Perhaps that harabeoji was right after all.

Luck does only come once in a lifetime.

And that, is the greatest misfortune of all.

𝟬𝟲 : 𝗕𝗟𝗔𝗖𝗞 𝗛𝗘𝗔𝗥𝗧𝗦

[ Taglist ] @ennycutie @mona643 @sheplut0 @porapibbang

© 𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐭 𝐠𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐨𝐟’ 𝐍𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐇𝐚𝐬 𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐞. 𝐈 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐝𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐦𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨, 𝐝𝐢𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞, 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐳𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐧𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫-𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐭. 𝐀𝐥𝐬𝐨, 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐳𝐞, 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞, 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐛𝐮𝐭𝐞, 𝐨𝐫 𝐮𝐩𝐥𝐨𝐚𝐝 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐞𝐥𝐬𝐞𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐦 𝐢𝐭 𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐚 𝐝𝐢𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞.

[dunya99]

gojo x reader (very fluffy)

the fear of being rejected eats you alive everyday but today.

maybe it was that compliment the barista gave you when you went to go pick up a coffee before your shopping trip, or maybe the fact your skin glows when you ovulate. or maybe, it’s the most gorgeous man you’ve ever laid your eyes on who whacked your anxiety in the face.

you don’t think you’ve ever seen a man like him. his white hair perfectly placed perfectly on his head, complimenting his chiseled face. it was as if god sent down angles to carve out each ridge and angle of his face. and his eyes? so blue they peaked through his extremely dark glasses, as if they were glowing. it was kind of scary if you really think about it.

you where both only separated by a glass window, his eyes occupied by what you assume digimond plushies. you quickly took out your phone, your fingers rapidly typing something before walking up to the window and knocking to get his attention.

his head almost instantly snapped, noticing you holding up your phone to him, a smirk creeping up his lips the moment he read it.

“are you single?” it read. he looked at you, his face only beaming with approval. he shook his head, shaking his hand near his neck as well to better execute his message. he can’t risk miscommunicating to a pretty girl like you!

you giggle as you type back on your phone and he can’t help but stare, your smile captivating him into a trance.

“i can tell.”

his mouth drops open, is this girl serious? does she not know who she’s talking to? his questions got answered by the way you where smiling and laughing. he smiles at you again, putting back the agumon plushie in his hand and quickly making it out of the shop and get to you.

you quickly put your phone in your pocket, trying to calm your laughter down and act as natural as you possibly can but before you knew it, he was right in front of you.

how’d he get here so fast? you around and then back to him, playing dumb.

“sorry, can i help you?”

“i think you can madam, do you think you’re funny?”

you raise an eyebrow, trying to hide the smirking that’s been begging to creep out.

“no idea what you’re talking about, you must be seeing things.” you cross you arms, trying to dismiss the way he looks down at you with a smirk by looking away as if your eyes didn’t immediately disobey your senses, looking back at him. his posture must kill him for always looking down at people.

“right.. maybe i am. it’s not everyday a pretty girl like you actively attempt to humiliate me.”

“humiliate?!” your voice slightly rises adding a lace of disbelief to better sell the act. “i would neverrr, you must have the wrong girl.”

“maybe i do,” he threads his fingers through his hair. “but im going to need your number justtt incase, can’t let a suspect slip through my fingers that easily.”

[waterlilyspad]

Breaking our Solitude (Chapter 6)

your honor they snuggle your honor they cuddle.

Summary: After a miracle Jayce returns to life in a dead world, it's now up to Viktor and Jayce to start over, hopefully for the better.

(Fluff, longing, eepy, jayvik au, hurt/ comfort, post season 2)

Jayce felt himself grow heavy and soon he slipped back into that darkness, he just remembered Viktor’s hands bringing him closer to his chest, and the words “Let's go home.” Echoing in his head as he drifted to sleep. Soon Jayce’s heavy eyes peered open, he glanced around his surroundings seeing a wooden ceiling above him and an orange glow illuminate the room. He then moved his head and knew that Viktor was in contact with him somehow. As he tilted his head to the right, he saw that he was on the floor resting under a couple of large blankets and a quilt. Underneath him was a kind of futon. His eyes looked around the dark room, it was a small cottage with assortments of things hanging from the ceiling, and things cluttering the room. Slowly he turned his head to his left where he was met with the sight of Viktor lying beside him. Jayce felt his heart jump to his throat, he was so close, Viktor was lying on his left side facing Jayce, his chest gently rising and falling with every sleeping breath. Jayce’s other hand twitched, Viktor had tied their hands together. Jayce slowly moved the covers to look the hand that was interlaced with Viktor’s. Their fingers interlocked together. Jayce settled back in moving to lie on his left side before guiding both of their hands up to the pillow. He gently sighed before closing his eyes. This was nice he supposed, he missed lying in a bed. Plus, he was no longer cold, this was a good feeling.

The morning sun peeked through old curtains as Jayce woke from his deep sleep. He yawned silently beforeppening his eyes expecting to see Viktor fast asleep beside him, but blinking a few times as he gaze at his thigh instead. His left hand with Viktor's right were still tied together as Viktor sat up in the bed reading a book. Jayce looked up his eyes following Viktor’s form to see his face obscured by the book he was reading. The sunlight creating a kind of aura over Viktor's form. Jayce watched before shifting a little, Viktor jumped slightly, “Oh Jayce, good morning.” He said moving the book from his sight and looking down. Upon seeing Viktor's face unobscured Jayce caught himself staring for a little too long without answering back. Something about the way the warm sunlight lit his face as he looked down at Jayce reminded him of those fairytales about guardian angels and other worldly beings. As he stared, he unconsciously pulled the covers up and over his shoulder, his fingers were pinching and smoothing over the fabric of the quilt soaking in the feeling of fabric. “I didn’t want to wake you but do tell me if you want me to in the future” Viktor said smiling slightly as Jayce’s eyes moved to meet Viktor’s. Like an angel hmm...Well, this angel did bring the world to an end and turned him into a statue for a good few centuries. Jayce’s eyelids lowered as his eyebrows furrowed as he swiftly pulled the blanket up and over his head, Viktor watched nervously.

Viktor sighed, placing the book down and lying back in bed facing Jayce. “Be mad, you have every right to.” He said softly as Jayce remained under the covers staring at his left hand those fingers twisted and linked with Viktor’s old ones. “I want you to be Jayce again, and nothing else, even if that means you hate me.” He explained as Jayce’s expression softened, “In the meantime this is what I have to do to give you your agency, I know it’s invasive and I’ll do my best to fix it.” Viktor explained as Jayce pulled the cover down from his face, with his head now visible to Viktor. Viktor's eyes began to inch across Jayce's new form, the ridged broken peaks of his head separated and made way for his hair to fall like it used to, it acted like a crown that crested his head. His eyes were a deep golden yellow and brown, those pupils dilated and stared into Viktor’s soul. God, oh how he missed those eyes. All the while his dark hair mixed with those strands of leaves and roots fell gently around his face like a veil. Viktor wanted to kick himself for even thinking about how beautiful Jayce was, lying next to him looking the way he did, no get that idea out of your head now. “Viktor.” Jayce said as Viktor re focused, he nodded in response. “I don’t even know what I am anymore, and I don't think I can be Jayce ever again.” He said, his eyes dimming as his expression dulled. Viktor sighed, “That’s just it, we have to find out who Jayce is now, and I hope whoever that is, he can live again, even if it’s without me.” Viktor said with a smile, Jayce felt something inside crack, and that still face began to feel tears run down in streams, was he crying? Jayce’s free hand moved up to touch his cheek. Pressing against his tears and pulling away his fingertips were damp with an iridescent shimmer. Fuck even his tears weren’t human anymore. But the crying was, that somehow made him feel both better and worse. “Here.” Viktor said as he reached behind him and handed Jayce an old towel, Jayce wiped his face with it, his nostrils breathing in that bark-like scent Viktor seemed to carry with him now. “I’m ready to try.” Jayce mouthed as Viktor smiled, “Me too.” He replied before patting Jayce on the shoulder a few times. “Let's get up now okay?” Viktor asked as He slowly sat up. Jayce slowly followed him, the two sitting up in the futon, Jayce took a few seconds before blinking and looking at Viktor “I have to stand up.” He said as Viktor agreed, “Yes you do.�� He said before realizing, “Oh... you have to stand up.” He said nervously.

[iluminatka16]

The Bat And The Cat

Tags: Konrad Curze x f!oc, chaotic fluff, cuddling, two menacies to society in too close proximity to each other, air jail

Warnings: mention of torture and suggestion of SA

Summary: The two most stubborn people in the galaxy have a nightmare and need some comfort. Or - how (not) to wake up a primarch.

Word count: 1808

English isn't my first language so sorry for any mistakes.

A gentle application of force was enough to make the skin on her abdomen break. In the slums, knives were blunt and often worn out, so the whole process was much more painful. Although she was Perpetual, she still felt pain when someone brought her guts out into the open. She was sitting strapped to a chair when blood gushed from her abdomen, the gritty texture of the leftover fat in her emaciated body visible as day. However, that wasn't the worst of it. In front of her, on the floor, lay the silhouette of a man. His inhumanly handsome and, to many, terrifying face was contorted into a tired grimace. His long black hair was scattered across the floor, and his dark eyes stared into the void. However, she didn't dare look down below, where there was a yawning wound on his neck that separated his head from the rest of his body. She stared silently at the man's body as her executioner continued to cut off his skin and flesh piece by piece. Piece by piece.

Falka rose abruptly, panting. Sweat ran down her forehead, and her heart pounded as if it was about to jump out of her chest. With a trembling hand, she touched her cheek, tracing a wet mark on her skin with her finger. She must have cried in her sleep. She wiped her face with one hand in an attempt to calm down, and with the other she reached down to her abdomen, touching the countless scars that covered it. There was no trace of the wound. Falka sighed quietly. She turned onto her stomach, drawing the pillow to her body. She tried to fall asleep, but she could not get rid of the unpleasant feeling that, like an icy fist, clenched on her heart. She was still angry and raw after their earlier argument, she had no desire to see his face. However, the feeling of unease did not leave her even as she tried to suffocate herself with a fluffy mass, pressing her face into the pillow. After several minutes of trashing, she finally rose furiously to sit down, clasping her hands on the satin material. Cursing under her breath, she stood up and put her slippers on her bare feet. Fucking ship. If it weren't for the fact that they were currently traveling through the Warp, she would have opened a portal and escaped the fucking metal can. As far away from him, his sons and all those memories as possible.

Falka opened the door to her quarters and stepped out into the hallway. She looked crazy to say the least - clad only in a nightgown, she moved through the halls like a phantom. She quickly found herself in front of Konrad's quarters, or better put, chamber. For someone who prided himself on a frugal lifestyle, Curze liked his bedroom to be decorated with splendor. Beds on the Nostramo for the poorest were a luxury, as were many other aspects of daily life. Falka swallowed bitterly at the memory of the musty mat on the floor, which might as well not have been there, that she shared with the woman what gave birth to her, or the later cold floor she was forced to sleep on for most of her teenage years. Their childhood in the shithole had twisted them in various ways, in Konrad's case one of it was an obsession with keeping his bedroom as if he were to house his older brother, Fulgrim.

Not that she was complaining. After all, she spent most of her nights there instead in her quarters.

She passed two Night Lords standing outside the entrance. They didn't question her. Of course they didn't. She had been in Konrad's life too long not to know any of his sons. Even if not by name. She noiselessly opened the door, noting in her mind that if she stopped being angry with Curze she was to tell him about the fact that he should do something about those hinges because they don't make any sound, which is dangerous, and then entered the room. She expected Konrad to hear her footsteps, that when she approached his bed she would find dark eyes pointed accusingly at her and a question about what possessed her at this hour. Fucking bastard.

To her shock, only silence greeted her, punctuated by the quiet, barely audible, buzzing of the ship. Falka felt the blood drain from her face. She walked closer to the bed, fearing she would see the worst. But panic was quickly replaced by relief and involuntary annoyance when a quiet whine came to her ears, and she could see Konrad trashing on the bed. He was mumbling something under his breath, his hands clenched on the sheet, tearing it in several pieces. He was having a nightmare, just like she had a few minutes earlier. Falka knew better than to wake him up when he was like this. Especially when he was in a bad mood before going to bed. The scar on her arm regularly reminded her of this. Having no other choice and perhaps feeling a slight need to teach him a lesson, Falka grabbed one of the pillows on the chair, swung and threw it straight at his face. It bounced off him, snapping him out of his sleep. Konrad growled like an animal visibly shocked by what had happened, his hand instinctively hurling the pillow to the other side of the room.

"What the..." he began, panting. Then his gaze fell on Falka. "What are you just.... YOU LITTLE BITCH, HOW DARE YOU..."

Konrad grabbed the quilt with his hands and uncovered himself. His eyes, as if in a frenzy, passed around the room, trying to understand what was happening. He tried to get up, but was stopped by the small hands on his shoulders. Falka thought she was going to start crying again when she felt the warmth of his skin, indicative of his condition quite far from death. Not that she would have been able to hold him for long - Konrad was more than 3 ft taller than her and somehow twenty times stronger. But it was enough of an element of surprise that she approached him so boldly, doing something most people would have had their guts ripped out for. Not that throwing a pillow at the primarch's pretty face was any less of a crime by any measure.

Without waiting for his sleep-blinded mind to process the information, Falka merely crawled into his lap. Her body clung to his chest, and she closed her eyes, allowing herself to listen to the beating of his twin hearts. He was terrified or upset about something. But he was alive. And that was the most important thing. This arrogant, sarcastic asshole was alive. His breathing now quickened, his body tense as the muscles under his skin moved. Falka was so lost in a sense of relief that she ignored Konrad's hostile demeanor and the curses rained down on her. If he wants to pull her away he will do so without a problem. Now she had no intention of moving from her favorite cushion.

She was snapped out of her reverie by a hand pressed against her head. His fingers moved through her ginger strands, untangling one of the tangles that had formed there during her nightly trashing. And slowly, Konrad sank back onto the pillow again, cradling her to his chest.

"Madwoman." He muttered. "What, you aren't angry with me anymore?" His voice, though filled with sarcasm, had no real venom in it.

Falka shifted slightly, searching for the most comfortable spot and muttering quietly. Then she felt Konrad's hand move from her head, to her neck. She was ready to bite him if he got the idea of strangling her, but instead she only felt his fingers finding her pulse point and pressing gently. When he received confirmation that the girl in his arms was indeed alive, Falka could hear the frantic beating of his heartbeat slowly change to a steady one, indicating that he had calmed down. She didn't know why, but at the gesture there was a warmth in her chest that pride wouldn't let her name.

"I had a nightmare." Falka muttered after a moment of silence. She expected the mocking scoff that Konrad liked to use when he was still raw after their arguments. But instead she felt his hand move from her neck to her back and start stroking the skin there. "From that night, when the pimp of the woman who gave birth to me discovered that I could regenerate myself and gave me to my first and last client."

Falka felt Konrad's body tighten. The memory of these people upset him even 300 years after the events. The hand on her back stopped to press her against his chest, trying to protect her from the world. The other, on the other hand, reached for the quilt and forced it over them, covering them with it.

"I still regret that he died so quickly when I skinned him alive." Konrad whispered, her voice this time devoid of sarcasm, turning more into a... purr? It was a rumbling sound from his throat, a tone of voice reserved only for her when she needed comfort or they were relaxed.

For a few seconds, Falka wondered if she should tell him that he had died in that dream, but refrained. Konrad was paranoid and might begin to think that the dream was not a symptom of PTSD after all, but a vision of the future where he would be killed and she tortured.

"And you? You were screaming like a little girl when I found you" Falka asked, sliding her hand over the skin of his arm. She was snapped out of her blissful moment by a light smack to the back of her head. "Ouch, you asshole!"

"Liar."

"I'm telling the truth and I can demonstrate."

"You're the one who's about to scream if you don't calm down."

Falka was about to respond with something clever, but at that moment strong hands pulled her off his chest. For a moment he held her in the air on top of him, wanting to make fun of her low height and how easily he could lift her. The disrespect… Falka with annoyance began to wince, trying to kick him, but the next second she lay safely immobilized between his arms as he rolled to his side and pressed her against him.

"You're choking me!" Falka wheezed out, struggling.

In response, Konrad merely pulled her closer and tucked her head under his chin.

"Good. Suffer.”

___

Uff, and my first fic on tumblr is published. Don't come for me for using wrong tags, I'm still learning haha.

[kiyomitakada]

@goldenbunniesxo thank you for asking!!!!! you've activated my trap card

the first part of this post, the parentheticals after "light," are uhh okay i didn't convey this very well but it's about how light is sort of the ideal of the somewhat mischievous but high-achieving japanese schoolboy ([raises hand] i too am an asian programmer light i get it) and is good at playing this role but does not seem entirely happy within it — "sense of wrongness in his own skin" i really should have elaborated on because yes it is a headcanon but also consider how he's drawn with his shadow separate from himself when he kills his second victim and is staring at his hands in horror; consider how he deliberately plays up his boyish charm™ around naomi and L (the tennis match) (notably he quit tennis ages ago because he didn't find it fulfilling, and is only coming back to it, a stereotypically masculine hobby, because he needs to find some pretense to be friends with L); consider how ryuk compliments him for being able to sew and light fires back by saying that all people really care about is his looks; consider how he says he'd like wings and immediately shuts down after ryuk thinks it's a joke; and you sort of see what i mean when i say he is good at inhabiting the schoolboy role but doesn't seem to like it, or at least hides away everything that doesn't conform to his perceived identity which is very much connected to his perceived gender

the second part of this post is about how he is the ideal of the japanese schoolboy and okay cards on the table i am taiwanese so i do not know the nuances of japanese culture and anyone with a better understanding than me please feel free to correct this but. i think it is significant that light has a lighter hair color than the rest of his family and that near's figurine of him is clearly white and that his name is light, in english, for god's sake. and in my experience of easian culture, if you're pale skinned there's always this Thing where people are like, wow look at you, you're so pale (this is presented as a good thing, a beauty-standards-fulfilled thing, an Exceptional thing due to colorism/racism). and since light is so pedestalized by everyone around him (his cram school teacher throws chalk at him and says that as nation-wide top student he has to pay attention, some of his college classmates are like "ugh light and ryuga act like they're too good to talk to the rest of us," etc) i can't Not see it as a factor. and i think it got to his head a little. the fact that he had to understand english to be able to read the death note rules in the first place (ryuk says it's the language that the most people on earth understand) means… something. why did he draw on western superstition for his one fake rule? like @durdurdurrrb pointed out in the replies, he's smart, and logically he should have stuck to the 4s theme. [insert unrelated tangent on whether light wanted to be caught but let's assume he didn't.] and even from a more zoomed-out level isn't it interesting that artificiality is being signified by whiteness here? i don't know! i haven't been able to draw any conclusions but there's Something There i hope i am conveying to you. on the opposite spectrum of course is the fact that light is loyal to his family, and that they are the image of the perfect nuclear family, and that soichiro in particular (who light looks up to) is like. he's like a samurai in everything but occupation. and that death note loooves its christian aesthetic but is drawing way more on shintoism and buddhism (which i know absolutely nothing about so i won't be getting into that but i know lots of other people have spoken about it before). do you see what i mean? there is a culture struggle here. it's like the death note versus light's preexisting moral code which he warps to fit the death note.

and so. the intersection of this. light yagami, who is trying so hard to look like a Regular Boy with Heterosexual Interests and Masculine Hobbies, getting whitewashed by unknown strangers who in the same breath wonder if kira is female, a question about his identity that as a matter of survival light has deliberately never thought about.

idk! would love to see light sputter in confused rage about it

light (top student) (hacker and programmer) (has always felt a sense of wrongness in his own skin) (is observed by ryuk to consistently use the concept of fate/destiny to manipulate women, a lie that he fell the hardest for himself) yagami (writes a 13-day fake rule to play on western superstition instead of sticking with the death note's theme of fours) (was definitely complimented for being "white-passing" by his teachers) (name is spelled "moon" but pronounced like the english word "light") (hollow) (hollow) (hollow) probably has very complicated feelings about the westerners assuming kira is a woman because it's a female name in english

[bakudekublogblog]

they know what they’re doing and they’re trying to kill me personally