#he brought the suicide note to school

[fawnsuga]

The Tragic Story of Jeremy Wade Delle: A Reflection on Youth and Mental Health

On January 8, 1991, the halls of Richardson High School in Texas were irrevocably altered by a tragic event that underscored the challenges faced by youth and the critical importance of mental health awareness. Jeremy Wade Delle, a 15-year-old sophomore, took his own life in front of his classmates, leaving a community in shock and a legacy that would resonate far beyond that day.

A Day Like Any Other

The morning commenced like many others, with students arriving at school and settling into their routines. Jeremy, who had recently transferred from Bryan Adams High School in Dallas, was known as a loner—someone who often kept to himself and struggled to connect with his peers. On that fateful day, after arriving late to class, his teacher, Fay Barnett, requested that he retrieve an admittance slip from the office. Instead, Jeremy returned to class with a .357-caliber Magnum.

Walking to the front of the classroom, he uttered the chilling words, “Miss, I got what I really went for,” before taking his life in a moment that would haunt his classmates and teachers indefinitely. The sound of the gunshot reverberated through the school, initially misinterpreted by some as a prank until the grim reality became apparent. Witnesses described the ensuing chaos—a teacher frozen in shock, students screaming, and a community plunged into grief.

The Struggles Behind the Tragedy

In the days following the incident, it became evident that Jeremy had been grappling with significant personal challenges. Reports indicated that he had been in counseling and exhibited sporadic attendance at school. His struggles were further exacerbated by family issues, including his parents' divorce and feelings of isolation in a new school environment.

Jeremy left behind several notes, one of which articulated his feelings of overwhelming pain and a desire to escape his circumstances. He expressed a sense of disconnection and the burdens he carried, revealing a depth of emotional turmoil that many of his peers were unaware of. This poignant message resonated with friends and classmates, who later expressed guilt for not having reached out to him.

The Aftermath and Community Response

The aftermath of Jeremy's death was marked by immediate counseling efforts for the students who witnessed the tragedy. School officials and mental health professionals collaborated to provide support, recognizing that the impact of such an event would be long-lasting. Many students reported feelings of sadness, anxiety, and fear, grappling with the sudden loss of a classmate in such a traumatic manner.

In the wake of the tragedy, Wanda Crane, Jeremy's mother, spoke publicly about her son, emphasizing that his death did not define his life. She remembered him as a talented artist, a caring friend, and a son who faced immense challenges. His artwork, which had garnered recognition even at a young age, adorned the walls of their home—a testament to his creativity and potential.

A Lasting Legacy

The story of Jeremy Wade Delle did not conclude with his untimely death. It inspired the Pearl Jam song "Jeremy," which brought national attention to the issues of youth suicide and mental health. Eddie Vedder, the band’s lead singer, was moved by an article he read about Jeremy, feeling compelled to give voice to his story and the struggles faced by many young people.

This tragic incident served as a wake-up call, highlighting the urgent need for improved mental health resources and support systems in schools. It ignited conversations about the importance of recognizing the signs of emotional distress and the necessity of fostering open dialogues about mental health among teenagers.

Conclusion

Jeremy's story serves as a poignant reminder of the struggles that many adolescents endure in silence. As communities continue to confront the consequences of youth suicide, it is essential to cultivate environments where students feel safe to express their feelings and seek help. By prioritizing mental health awareness and support, we can honor Jeremy's memory and work towards preventing future tragedies.

[runningfrom2am]

requiem // prologue

summary: according to coriolanus snow, his best friend had the most beautiful voice in all of panem. she had been training her whole life constantly to get where she was; being up for a residency at the most elite opera house in all of panem. singing was her passion. her true love; and when that got stripped from her in a second, his world became a whole lot quieter. he loathed every minute of it.

pairing: coriolanus snow x fem!reader

wc: 0.8k

masterlists / nav / requests

tags/warnings: opera singer!mentor!reader (blink and you'll miss it), she's kind of a prodigy!! p cool imo, mute!reader, bestfriend!coryo, friends to lovers trope ooo, mentions of graphic violence early on (particularly the prologue) but after that it's pretty safe, depictions of ptsd/trauma, mental illness and minor suicidal ideation but at least she's not entirely alone, descriptions of minor medical treatments and use of medication.

a/n: hi! welcome to the prologue for requiem!! just a taste to set things up :) sorry !!

my asks are also open to talk about this series! (i do have emoji anons open now too!)

send me any and all of your thoughts! here!

series masterlist // playlist // pinterest board

'Are you coming to the zoo after class?' The note Coryo slid in front of you asks. You look up at him and nod, before taking your pen and scribbling underneath his penwork on the same page, sliding it back as your teacher went on and on about things you had already studied and knew by heart.

'Walk together?'

Now it's his turn to nod, meeting your gaze with a smile.

You hadn't had the chance to meet your tribute yet, but Coryo's idea to go and greet his tribute was very smart. You admired it- he was brave to do that, but something deep in the back of your chest made you uneasy about it. Regardless, you and several of your classmates would make the trip after school to go greet them, bring them food, and get to know them as much as you could. You part ways with him once you arrive, planning to walk home together later.

"Valkyrie?" You call out, scanning the tributes trapped in the cage to try and pinpoint her. You see her when her head turns at the name and you smile, waving her over. "My name is Y/N. I'll be your mentor."

She doesn't say anything as she stops in front of you, giving you a death glare that could give you chills. She looked strong. It was good, she'll do well in the games. "It's nice to meet you," you continue. "My job is to help you however I can. So anything you need or want, I'm your girl. Just say the word."

Her cold stare doesn't falter, but you try not to let your discomfort show. You need her to trust you, that was Coryo's best advice, so you would do all you could to take it. "Are you hungry? You must be. I brought you some food." You don't wait for a response that you know isn't coming, digging in your bag already.

"It's my favorite, but I do hope you like it." You hum, pulling out a container with some crackers and honey, and a lemon to cut up and put in your water bottles. "Care to sit?" You offer, already sitting down yourself, kneeling in front of the bars. You smile when she obliges, matching your posture across from you.

"I'm a singer, and honey is really good for the throat." You explain, hoping that she'll begin to trust you if she knows you a little better. "It's a nice bonus that it tastes good, too. I'm not supposed to have sugar, but I think honey is the next best thing." You open the container, trying not to expose the shakiness in your hands as you grab the small bowl of honey and a knife to spread it, but this fails drastically when you accidentally drop it and it falls past the bars just out of your reach.

"Oh, gosh- I'm just so clumsy, would you mind passing that to me?" You ask, trying to reach for it anyway. You grin when she reaches out for it, picking it up by the handle. "Thank you..." You tell her, leaning closer to grab it from her hand. Something in her eyes shifts so fast you have no chance to really pick up on it before she grabs your hair with her other hand and pulls you back into the bars.

You scream, adrenaline pumping through your veins in an instant as you try and pull yourself away but it's too late and your screams are silenced by the blade of the knife against your throat.

Your eyes go wide as she lets you go, hands coming up to your neck out of instinct and when you pull one away it's warm and covered in red. Blood. Your own blood. You're choking, trying to breathe but the air feels sticky as you fall back. "Y/N! Y/N? Hey, look at me. Look at me!" Your best friend cries out, suddenly in front of you with his arms at your sides, lowering you carefully to the ground.

You stare up at him, hands still clasped over your neck which he matches with his own, doing his best to try and stop the bleeding. "Help! Somebody, help!" He shouts, turning and hoping help is coming as your heartbeat drums behind your ears.

Several gunshots ring out, echoing in the back of your head as you stare up at the sky and Coryo drops down on top of you, likely trying to dodge the bullets. You don't know where they were going- and you don't care.

You try and speak but no sound is coming out, just the sickening gurgle of your own blood replacing the smoothness of your voice. You know it's really not good when your vision starts to blur, the last thing you see being Coryo's panicked expression as he looks over you, desperately yelling at you to stay awake and for someone to please, please help.

no taglist this time around!! my fics usually get over a hundred requests to be added to the taglist so instead i made a library! follow me over on @runningfrom2am-library and turn on notifs to get updates when i post new parts!!

[wxllyclxrk]

Wonderwall (1) | Wally Clark x OC

Summary: Wally never expected for fall for a living student- until the day he heard Ellie say his name.

Warnings: Mentions of death/suicide, mentions of abuse, extreme canon divergence.

Word Count: 972

Disclaimer: I do not own rights to any character, setting or plot designed by the creators of School Spirits.

Author's Note: Each chapter is named after a song. For continuing parts, the chapter number will be in parenthesis!

MASTERLIST

Wally Clark has always been a lovable, golden retriever type of guy- warm, charming and effortlessly bright. He carries laughter in his pocket and wears his heart on his sleeve, always ready with a grin that could melt even the coldest of hearts. His charm isn't a facade, it's woven into the way he speaks, the way he listens, the way he makes the people around him feel like they mean something. There's a subtle depth beneath his easygoing nature, a tenderness in the way he loves- with unshakable loyalty, unwavering devotion, and a sincerity that lingers like the last notes of a favorite song. He's the kind of person who instinctively puts others before himself, even without realizing it. He doesn't ask for much in return- he's content just knowing the people he loves are okay. If it means sacrificing his time, his comfort, or even his own feelings, he won't hesitate. It's not a conscious effort, it's just who he is. He's the kind of boy who turns ordinary moments into something magical, who makes your world feel a little lighter just by being in it. 

Ellie is the kind of girl who feels like the soft melody of a piano drifting through an open window- gentle, graceful, and full of unspoken emotion. She carries a quiet strength, the kind that doesn't demand attention but holds steady when the world tries to break her. Sweet and forgiving, she has a heart that loves deeply, even when it shouldn't, even when it hurts her. There's a certain innocence to her, a romantic longing for love that feels like the stories she loses herself in, but life has not been kind to her hopes and dreams. She's an upbeat cheerleader with a bright smile and delicate presence, but beneath that carefully crafted image, she's a girl who knows loneliness all too well. She struggles to say no, to put herself first, to see her own value- but she's more resilient than she realizes. She's soft, but she is not weak. She is light, even when surrounded by darkness. And when she loves, she loves with everything she has. 

_ _ _

Wally wasn't paying much attention as he cut through the cafeteria, his mind half on Mr. Martin's support group and half on nothing at all. The hum of voices, the clatter of trays, the shuffle of footsteps- just another ordinary day in a place where nothing ever changed. And then, in the midst of all the noise, he heard his name. 

It was soft, almost uncertain, but it caught on his ear like a thread he couldn't ignore. He slowed, gaze flicking toward the source, and then he saw her. She was sitting at a table with a group of girls, hair falling over one shoulder as she leaned in slightly, speaking in soft tones.Her lightly tan skin seemed to glow softly in the sun, a golden warmth that only brought out her deep blue eyes, a shade so rich they resembled the sea before a storm. Strands of dark brown hair cascaded down her back, catching rays of light in soft, silky ribbons. Her head was tilted slightly, dark brows knitted together in gentle curiosity. There was something delicate about her, not in a way that made her seem breakable, but in the way certain songs feel too beautiful to talk over. She couldn't have known he was there, she shouldn't have known who he was, but for some reason, he couldn't look away. 

She said his name.

Why?

He didn't know her, he was sure of that. How could he have never noticed her before? Something about the way she said his name made his chest tighten-like it meant something. Like she already knew him in a way neither of them understood yet. And as he studied this petite brunette, the rest of the world faded.

- - -

"Are you excited for your first homecoming game here?" An unnamed blonde girl asked somebody.

"Yeah, it should be fun," Ellie replied, surrounded by a flock of royal blue Barbie dolls. "I wasn't really able to participate much at my last school."

"Couldn't be me, this week is always lit. The game, the dance, all the traditions," The blonde answered while applying a provocative shade of lipstick. 

"Oh my God, do you think that woman will be there again?" A thin girl sprouting auburn hair questioned in a judgmental tone. 

"What woman?" Ellie asked.

"The stadium's named after her kid. He died like a hundred years ago at a homecoming game," The blonde girl replied while staring at herself in her phone camera. 

"Wally Clark?"

———

For most of Ellie's life, she was the overlooked girl- never quite fitting in at her old schools, and never comfortable with extracurricular actives. Her closest anchor was her father, who shared her love for music; together, they'd spend hours playing the piano, a tender bond that was shattered when he committed suicide when Ellie was just eleven years old. 

Less than a year later, her mother Sharon remarried, and Ellie found herself forced to leave everything familiar behind as she moved schools for the first time. Sharon's restless nature- constantly chasing after the next infatuation- meant that Ellie never had the chance to build lasting friendships or a stable sense of home. Now, at Split River High for just a few weeks, she had unexpectedly captured the attention of her peers, especially the cheerleaders, finding herself in a vulnerable spotlight unlike her usual place in society. 

Beneath her newfound popularity lies a shadow that continues to affect her daily life. Her latest stepfather, Malcolm- a wealthy entrepreneur in his 50's, casts a long, uncomfortable presence over her. His emotionally abusive behavior and inappropriate remarks only deepen the isolation Ellie feels, igniting her instinctual need to find safe haven. 

[listofwhyyouloveher]

Can you do the greasers dating an Italian girl? (Separate)

Summary: The gang x Italian reader

Warnigs: none

Author's Note: idk much abt being Italian, sorry if this is offensive, I mean no disrespect

PONYBOY is immediately attracted to your accent. He thinks it makes you sound so classy, and it's so perfectly you. He absolutely adores your culture and your style. Hel'll always try to take you out to Italian restaurants when he's saved up enough money. At first he was really intimidated by you, you're obviously not someone to mess with. And even though you two are dating he's always making sure he's keeping you happy!

He absolutely loves your family, he's loves how close knit they are and your boy cousins/brothers remind him of his brithers. Hes hoping one day he can be seen as one of the family.

JOHNNY was also super intimidated by you. You were so elegant and smartly dressed that he was starting to think you were taking, "if looks could kill," seriously. He tries to avoid you, but he always seems to be doing something involved with you. Once, he took you out on a date as a 2 man for Dallas. He could tell that you didn't really want to be there either, so he tried to appease you by talking to you. You were quite delighted about his conversation and how interested he was about your culture.

Johnny later went on to take you out multiple times. He also tells you that he really wants to learn some Italian or learn more about the culture.

Sodapop is head over heels in love the moment he saw you. He's like Dominic palazzolo from The Virgin Suicides. It's very much a puppy love crush and he doesn't expect you to interact with him at all. Until your father brought you in with him to get his car fixed and then left to run some errands. You were stuck there with Soda so you talked to pass tome. You asked him about what he was doing and Soda told you, he liked how interested you were in his line of work and asked you do in your spare time.

You both totally bonded over your hobbies, but your rich accent and the classy way made Soda realize how much he liked mature ladies.

Steve's always hearing the craziest gossip about you. Granted, it's all stereotypical gossip that you were in the "mafia" or something. Thankfully, it gave you a bit of an "untouchable" reputation. Steve was obviously scared of you but when he saw you and he was expecting some scary mafia girl he just saw..you. you weren't innocent looking, you exuded control even when doing something simple. He was drawn to your aura and found that you made a really good girlfriend too.

As much as he hates to admit it, you scare away a lot of the socs, not Steve. He's a little ashamed that he's not as tuff as his girl but whatever gets the socs off his back!

Two Bit is probably one of the people spreading the gossip about you. Not in a mean and purposeful way, but when he gets drunk, he just tends to talk about whatever he can string together. So he's very scared when he runs into you, you pause and assess him and he thinks you're going to beat him up for talking about you but you just smile at him and walk away. He's so entranced by your smile and really happy that you didn't choose to like kick him in the shins or something. He asked you out in a date while at a party, he wanted to make the best impression so he had his mom help him cook something you'd like, like a classic dessert or dish.

He made such a good first impression on your family who watched him pick you up. They talked about him for days until you brought him around.

DARRY has always liked mature girls. Well, now that he wasn't in high school and needed someone he could actually rely on, that is. He finds that girls his age aren't really ready for something serious, but you did. He loved how fond you were of cooking and how you'd always help him prepare meals. He also loved meeting your family, they really liked him because of how he was literally the embodiment of the perfect American man (ily Darry pls give me a chance). He also was never dumb enough to fall for the "mafia" gossip, he always knew you were very sweet at heart because he has a good eye for reading people.

He'll always try to bake something traditional for you. He's always wanted to be able to bake treats and now he has your mother's recipes to copy and that makes him so happy.

DALLAS would definitely be the type to ask you if you were part of the mafia to your face. He has no shame and he's brash, but something about him attracted you and I guess you're dating now. He really likes the "crime mob boss aesthetic" because he thinks it's tuff so he's always trying to get involved with your father even though you tell him that none of that relates to you. One good thing though is that he wouldn't let any soc pick on you because you're Italian, his mindset is that no one can make fun of you but him. He stomps out every soc that dares mess with you.

He loves gifting you his jewlery, some of it is like really good quality real Italian designer jewlerry that he swiped from vintage stores. He'll give it to you but he makes you promise to return it when he needs it.

[b-writessometimes]

Yandere Nerdy Classmate OC x Reader

Warnings: Yandere/ dark content themes, body image issues, unhealthy obsession, creepy/ perverted behavior, implications of stalking. References to suicidal thoughts and smut below but not overtly explicit. Not a condonement of these IRL activities. Read at your own discretion.

[word count: 1,030]

University seemed like a surefire way to start a new leaf.  To breeze past the humiliation of his years growing up as an awkward nerd and make something of himself. No more being jostled around at the school cafeteria, no more having his peers pick and laugh at him because of his weight and no more faculty doing absolutely nothing about the bullying going on right under their noses.

Unfortunately enough, the teasing didn't just stop at graduation.  It followed him like a damn leech that refused to perish no matter how many times one picked at it.

The only thing keeping the guy going was his lifelong dreams of someday becoming an author.  Though he's yet to share his stories to anyone outside his own grandmother.  

On most days he felt like quitting.  Of dropping out, disappearing off the face of the Earth one way or another.  His presence being reduced to no more than that of a mere ghost that roamed people's memory, if even granted that luxury.

And then he happened to meet you one day.

Infatuated.  No enthralled would be the right word that he would use to describe how he felt about you.

In all his odd twenty-two years of living, he's never experienced such an intense yearning for someone before.  Like a need rather than a simple want.

This is different from those puppy crushes he got back in school to those he became a nervous wreck around only to soon learn they all wanted nothing to do with the chubby loser in the back of class.

No, this was far different.  It began innocently enough as so many stories do.  Stolen glances and the mumbled 'hi' as you sat down next to him for each lecture. He couldn't help but to notice your preferred method of note taking, those little snacks you brought so often to class, and which foot you tended to favor when walking through the door. Just little things like that. 

His heart skips a beat when the two of you make eye contact, he pretends to focus on his paper and not the way he was staring at the slight furrow of your brow when you get all concentrated and in your head.  But by some miracle the two of you begin talking.  

Once short greetings then blossomed into lively conversations before and during class.  He knows a bit more about you now: your favorite music, what you grew up watching, how many other friends you had here on campus or back home.  He hates how insecure he feels when you bring them up.

You learn a bit about your new friend as well. He was raised mainly by his maternal grandmother and didn't have many friends growing up. Whether that past is relatable or not is up to you, but it's hard not to pity the guy.

Before you know it, finals week rolls up.  Since you both seem to be the only ones taking this class semi-seriously, you propose a study session in the comfort of your dorm room. Too tight on cash to head to any fancy cafés.

He can feel his mouth salivating at the very notion.  Of being able to breathe the same air that you did, to occupy the intimate space that you returned to each day.

His fingers are clammy when he's seated at your desk, seeing you seated in much more casual clothes with your legs propped up against your bed.  The pits of his shirt are now stained with sweat but he swears it's just nervousness from the upcoming exam.  You place a hand on his shoulder and reassure him he'll do fine, being one of the smartest people in your guys' class after all.

Oh how he wanted to fall to his knees right then and there and eat you out to thank you for giving him the time of day.  But alas he still had a functioning brain.  Such bold moves were strictly prohibited at the moment.  He was still a virgin after all and wanted your intimacy together to be special. 

And so, he goes for the second best alternative.

He sniffs your clothes when you aren't looking. With your laundry hamper being out in the open like that, he can't help but be opportunistic. The mix of your natural odor and sweat floods his system.  He shudders at the sensation.  If he could somehow transfer your scent over and pour it into a candle to keep for his own, he would do so in a heartbeat.  

He admires the lingering imprint of your body on the sheets, like how a person might admire a fine piece of art in a museum.

Your study session goes as planned.  You both pass the exam with flying colors. It was a great way to end the class, good scores all around and a new friend to boot.  He can't wait to see you next semester when he conveniently has a bunch of the same classes as you.  A neat little coincidence right?

Only after returning back to your dorm room, do you notice a few things absent from your possession.  Mainly that of a used lip balm and an old pair of socks.  You don't give it much thought. After all, little things like those wind up missing all the time.  No need to worry about it too much.  

Meanwhile, some mere 15 minutes away, he's licking the rim of your used lip balm and trying to cement the flavor profile to memory.  A hint of petroleum mixed with the sweetness of your saliva.  Absolutely intoxicating.  

He's alternating between palming your used socks against his crotch and inhaling your natural musk.  It makes it all too easy to lose himself completely.  Skin flush with sweat as he can only helplessly imagine how good you must feel if you smelt this damn good.

After his 'busy evening’, he finds himself under a lamp and furiously scribbling down into one of his spare notebooks.  The moment giving him just the inspiration he needs for a spare poem. 

Perhaps he'll use it in a novel of his, and dedicate it to you someday.

A/N;

Excited to finally share some original fiction of mine! I may/ may not reveal his name but for now he will be simply known as 'yandere nerd/ yandere classmate'. If you are curious to know more about him, feel free to send an ask my way. I love to yap about my OC's and flexing my creative writing muscles 👋

[1-800reki]

stop imagine packing a lunch for ranpo. putting a cute sticky note like ‘good luck my little genius ᕦ(ò_óˇ)ᕤ’ and he probably says something snarky like “the #1 detective doesn’t need luck… but thank you, i appreciate it nonetheless” cause he’s a little shit head who doesn’t know how to react to your love and affection. you just know he shows off like that one kid in elementary school who’s mom packed him mc donald’s or something. “look at what i get for being the smartest detective in the world” and it’s just like a bento with snacks and a candy or two. showing his shit off like he doesn’t even care that he’s flexing on an orphan. okay maybe he feels a little bad about atsushi but he loves when dazai pouts about how he wishes he had a lover who would pack him food with little notes although the moment dazai even suggests you make one for him too, ranpo shuts it down immediately. especially if that suggestion leads to anything remotely close to a double suicide request.

I love this so much so I'm turning it into a oneshot!

Thank you for the skibidi idea random person!

❝Lunch Notes!❞

summary: Oneshot with Ranpo!

Pairings: Ranpo Edogawa x GN Reader!

a/n: I saw this in my inbox and I loved it so much ❤

Whenever Ranpo goes to work you always pack him a lunch with notes! For example 'Good luck my little genius ᕦ(ò_óˇ)ᕤ'! Though whenever he reads them at work he acts like the notes are nothing but he cherishes every single one of them! They make his lunch taste a bit better than they already do! Whenever he goes home and you ask him if he liked that note he would say 'I don't need those notes... but it was okay I guess..'

On somedays you give him a little candy or two in the lunch. Whenever he sees them he proudly shows it off. "Look what I got for being the smartest detective!" He would say showing the agency. He loves it when Dazai whines about not having a lover like his. "I wish I had a partner who makes me lunches!" Dazai whined. Ranpo only snickered and said "Well my partner is the best! They even got me a lollipop!"

Today you visited Ranpo because he forgot his lunch. When you got there he went and greeted you immediately. "What are you doing here?" Ranpo asked you with a tilt of his head. "You forgot your lunch so I brought it!" You answer with a smile. He grinned before coughing into his fist. "You didn't need to do that... but thanks I guess.." He spluttered with flushed cheeks.

Dazai was near and took this as his chance! "Y/n-Chan! I've heard from Ranpo-Kun over here that you make him lunches and notes! Would you be able to do that for me too!" Dazai asked happily with a smile on his face and a sparkle in his eyes. Before you could say anything Ranpo spoke up. "No way! They're my partner not yours! Get your own Dazai!" Ranpo retorted back to Dazai's suggestion.

He knew that it would end up in him asking you for a double suicide and he would not let that happen. You laugh and pat Ranpo's head. "I'll be on my way now. Be sure to eat your lunch. Bye!" You say handing him his bento before leaving the agency. Ranpo smiled and hummed happily to himself walking over to his desk. Dazai sulked over being 'rejected' once again.

Despite what Ranpo says he loves the lunch notes you give him. His lunch notes.

[xlettex]

Deception || tetsurou kuroo Yakuza AU - Chapter Three

From the moment you looked into his eyes, you knew—he was nothing but trouble. Everyone warned you. Stay away from him. Don’t get involved. But you never listened. Tetsurou Kuroo, better known as Kurai, is the infamous yakuza boss of Japan. Just mentioning his name is enough to send shivers down spines and silence conversations in dimly lit alleyways. He is a force of nature—deceitful, ruthless, and dangerously unpredictable. A man who bends the world to his will, leaving chaos in his wake. And yet, to you… he is irresistible. You crave him — his touch, his warmth, the way he sets your skin on fire with just a glance. He makes you feel invincible like you can take on the world. But loving him is a double-edged sword. Because just as he lifts you up, he destroys you.

pairing - tetsurou kuroo x reader genre - action romance, crime romance, dark romance, erotica/smut rating - 18+ MINORS DNI chapter word count - 7.6k content warning - violence, drugs and alcohol, illegal activities, sexual content, and angst. see each chapter for specific warnings.

Authors Note - This fanfic is inspired by the amazing fanart of the tetsurou kuroo mafia au (found image on pinterest, help me find the artist - I want to credit them). Disclaimer- This is a work of fiction, I do not condone the act of illegal activities, violence, or romanticization of the yakuza. Read at your own risk.

chapter two <- chapter three -> chapter four

✯ chapter-specific warnings -violence, references to drugs, alcohol, illegal activity, depression, mention of suicide, anxiety, death, grief ✯

You step onto the street, the morning air crisp, biting at your exposed skin. The streets hum with life—children rushing past you, eager to make it to school, adults briskly moving along the sidewalks, and the faint smell of fresh bread drifting from an open café door. You feel out of place. The vibrant normalcy of the world around you is a stark contrast to the turbulence occupying your mind. You shiver, but not from the cold. The weight of uncertainty clings to you, wrapping you in a quiet, suffocating embrace.

A few weeks have passed since you patched up Tetsurou, his cryptic words and that unnerving smirk continue to haunt you. You haven’t seen him since, but his gaze lingers in your thoughts, like a shadow that follows you wherever you go. Every time your mind wanders, his voice echoes—“I owe you”—and each time, a knot tightens in your chest.

What does owing me even entail? The question swirls around you, relentlessly, as you try to make sense of it all. But every answer you come up with only leads to more confusion.

You barely knew the man. Yes, you helped him in the alley, but surely that wasn’t enough to warrant a debt—especially one that seemed so… personal. It wasn’t some grand gesture; it was instinct, a basic sense of morality. You weren’t the kind of person to leave a bleeding man to die in the street.

The hospital was already buzzing with activity when you arrived. The sharp scent of antiseptic clung to the air, mixing with the faint aroma of fresh coffee from the nurses’ station. The steady beeping of monitors hummed in the background as you weaved through the crowded hallway, nodding at a few coworkers who looked just as exhausted as you felt. Everything about this place was routine. It should have brought comfort, but the thought of Tetsurou lingered, ever-present, like a slow-burning fuse you couldn’t quite extinguish. You tried to push it aside by immersing yourself in the busy chaos of the hospital.

“You’re late.”

You blinked, pulled from your thoughts as Shirabu glanced up at you over the top of his clipboard.

“Only by two minutes,” you said, offering a sheepish smile as you grabbed your scrub cap from your locker.

“Two minutes could be the difference between life or death in surgery,” he said, his voice carrying a touch of authority, though there was no real malice behind it. “You’re assisting with my laparoscopic cholecystectomy. Get scrubbed in.”

“Yes, sir.”

The mechanical motions of getting ready for surgery are second nature by now. The sterile environment, the use of medical jargon—it’s familiar and comforting. You tried your best to only focus on work and for a moment, you almost forgot about what was plaguing your mind. Almost.

Then, during a lull between procedures, your phone buzzed in your pocket, pulling you out of your thoughts. You glanced at the screen.

PAST DUE NOTICE: FINAL WARNING.

Your stomach dropped. You barely dared to open the message, but you already knew. Rent was overdue—again. You had a week, maybe less, before your landlord took action. And with the hospital cutting overtime hours, there was no easy way to fix this.

Your grip tightened around your phone, a sinking dread coiling in your stomach. You took a sharp breath, pushing the screen aside just as Koushi’s name flashed across the display.

You hesitated before answering, trying to push past the uneasy feeling gnawing at you. “Hey,” you said, trying to sound casual. “What’s up?”

“Are you okay?” Koushi’s voice came through, filled with concern and a touch of frustration, stark against the quiet hum of the hospital. “I haven’t heard from you in a while. You’ve been on my mind, especially since.....” He lets out a breath,  “I just want to make sure you’re alright.”

The warmth in his voice should have been comforting, but it only made you feel more torn. You weren’t sure how to explain that you weren’t fine—so many emotions clouded your thoughts, so many things left unsaid. The weight of the chance encounter with Tetsurou was starting to feel heavier by the day.

“I’m fine,” you said a little too quickly, pushing the words out with a forced cheer. “Just been busy with work, you know how it is.”

There was a pause on the other end of the line, the silence thick with Koushi’s concern. You could almost hear him debating whether to press further. When he finally spoke again, his voice was softer. “You don’t sound fine. You’ve barely responded to my texts and ignored all my calls. I’m surprised you answered this one. I just... I’m worried, okay? Since what happened a few weeks ago, you’ve been distant.”

You let out a long sigh, leaning back against the counter in the break room as you ran a hand through your hair. Koushi’s worry felt like a heavy blanket, smothering you with its warmth. He was right. You hadn’t been yourself. But how could you explain the unease gnawing at your insides? How could you explain the growing dread that's taken root in your chest?

“I’m fine, Koushi. Really,” you say, your voice faltering despite your best efforts. “Just... work has been hectic. That’s all.”

Another long silence. You can hear Koushi breathing on the other end, his concern palpable, like a soft weight pressing down on your chest. “I get it,” he says, finally, a hint of resignation in his voice. “But you can’t keep ignoring everything that happened. You can’t just push me away. I’m your best friend. I’m here, alright?”

You close your eyes for a moment, pressing your palm to your forehead as if it could ease the weight of his words. He’s right, you know he is. Koushi always knows when you’re hiding behind a mask, pretending everything is fine.

You let out a breath, feeling the familiar weight of your past settle over you like a shadow. You’d never fully allowed yourself to belong to the Sugawara family. They’d taken you in when you had nothing, and given you warmth and comfort when you needed it most, but they could never replace what you’d lost. A small, guarded part of you kept its distance, remembering that people could be taken from you in an instant. Loss had always been a silent companion, one you couldn’t shake no matter how many people surrounded you.

"I... I know," you whispered, the words slipping out before you could stop them. "But sometimes it’s easier not to feel too much. It doesn’t hurt as much that way."

Koushi’s sigh on the other end was filled with a deep, tired understanding, “Listen, I was thinking we could meet for dinner tonight, my treat. It’s been a while since the two of us hung out properly. Maybe a change of scenery will help clear your head.”

Dinner with Koushi sounds exactly like what you need. You hesitate, staring at the phone in your hand as if it holds the answers you’re searching for. Part of you wants to say no, to remain in this space where no one can reach you, but the other part aches for a sense of normalcy you haven't felt in weeks. The quiet comfort Koushi offers feels like a lifeline you desperately need.

“Yeah, that sounds nice,” you said, more to reassure him than anything. “Let’s do it.”

A sound of relief filtered through the phone, and you could almost picture Koushi’s smile on the other end. “Good. I’ll text you the details,” he said. “Just... take care of yourself, okay?”

You smiled softly, though he couldn’t see. “I will, I promise.”

You ended the call and tucked your phone back into your pocket, forcing yourself to focus on the next surgery. But even as you suited up for the next procedure, The dinner invite with Koushi lingered in your mind. The thought of a quiet dinner and some normalcy beckoned like a distant shore, a place you weren’t sure you were ready to reach but knew you desperately needed to.

At the same time, far above the streets of Tokyo, in a sleek penthouse bathed in the warm glow of the midday sun, Kuroo sat at the head of a polished, modern table. The expansive view of the city sprawled beneath him, a chaotic maze of buildings and bustling streets, mirroring his volatile life. Papers were scattered before him, but his focus was distant, his thoughts miles away. His fingers swirled the glass of whiskey, the amber liquid catching the light, but the real matter gnawing at his mind had little to do with business.

He can’t stop thinking about you.

Weeks had passed, and you still lingered in the recesses of his mind, an echo that refused to fade. Your quiet concern, the hesitation in your eyes when you helped him—it all replayed in his head like a song stuck on repeat. But it wasn’t just your actions that haunted him. It was your face—your eyes, soft and uncertain, yet sharp with something he couldn’t quite place. The way your hair fell, it was messy but somehow still perfect. The way you looked at him as if you saw something more, something deeper. He should have let it go by now. It should have meant nothing. 

But here he was —wondering what it was that made you so different.

A part of him itched to repay you, to settle the unspoken debt that lingered between the two of you. Yet, another part—the one that knew better—was reluctant to. Once he started paying that debt, your life would be intertwined with his. And being involved with someone like you? That was a danger he couldn’t afford to entertain.

The soft click of the door broke his reverie, and Kuroo looked up to find Kenma entering, his expression flat, unreadable. As always, Kenma knew. Kuroo didn’t have to say a word—his friend was sharp enough to see through the mask he wore.

“You’re still thinking about her,” Kenma said, his voice cutting through the tension like a knife.

Kuroo’s eyes flicked to Kenma, a sharp, almost predatory glint flashing in his gaze. He leaned back in his chair, his tone low, tinged with frustration. “It’s not that simple,” he muttered, trying to push the thought of you away. 

Kenma didn’t comment, but the look he gave was enough to say he wasn’t buying it.

Kuroo dragged a hand through his hair, ignoring the faint pull of his stitches. His mind shifted gears, locking onto something else gnawing at him. His eyes fell on the papers he’d been neglecting while he recovered. “Daishou’s attack... it was too messy, too risky. That’s just not his style. He frowned, his grip tightening around the glass. “This isn’t just a turf dispute. There’s more going on here.”

Kenma leaned against the wall, arms crossed. “A drug deal gone wrong?” he mused, his voice calm, calculating.

Kuroo shook his head. “No. If it were, he wouldn’t have played it this way. I have a feeling this isn’t about the usual shit. He may want to take over control—starting by seeing how much chaos he can throw into our organization—and he’s not working alone. The shift in his methods only confirms that.”  His voice turned sharp, frustration creeping in. “So who the fuck is helping him?”

Kenma considered the theory, letting the silence stretch between them. Then, finally, he spoke. “Daishou’s reckless, but he’s not stupid. If this were about taking over, he’d be smarter.” His gaze darkened slightly. “Are we sure he’s even involved, it could be an entirely new threat?”

Kuroo exhaled sharply, drumming his fingers against the glass, the sound filling the quiet space. “Good point. We need to consider other angles.” He shifted, eyes narrowing. “Have Yaku look into that missing shipment from last week. If this is connected, I want to know.”

“Already on top of it.” Kenma’s tone was clipped.

Kuroo exhaled, jaw tight. “Someone’s poking holes in places they shouldn’t. And I don’t fucking like it.”

The room hung heavy with tension, but it wasn’t just business weighing on Kuroo’s mind. Kenma was watching him too closely, and Kuroo knew what was coming next.

Sure enough, Kenma’s voice broke through the quiet, edged with amusement. “It’s been weeks. Why is she still on your mind?”

Kuroo’s fingers twitched. The frustration inside him coiled tighter. “I don’t know,” he admitted, his voice lower now, rougher. He ran a hand down his face, ignoring how his muscles tensed at the thought of her. “She helped me. But it’s more than that and I can’t figure out why.”

Kenma studied him, sharp eyes assessing, before he tilted his head slightly. “I’ve never seen you like this.” His voice was almost amused, but there was something else beneath it—curiosity, maybe. “Not since… well, ever.” A small, dry laugh escaped him. “A girl’s never gotten you this off-balance.”

Kuroo’s eyes snapped to him, irritation flaring before he smothered it beneath cold indifference. “I’m not off-balance,” he muttered. The words rang hollow.

Kenma let the silence stretch before offering a shrug. “Maybe not. But something about her is fucking with your head. And when you start overthinking, that’s when everything goes to shit.” His voice sharpened, turning blunt. “She’s a distraction. We don’t need distractions. Not with someone stirring up trouble.”

Kuroo inhaled shakily, frustration still tightening his chest. “I told her I owed her for saving my life.”

“You hate being indebted to people,” Kenma said, pausing for a moment before continuing carefully, “I know we all gave you a hard time about her at first, but she’s smart. She patched you up without asking questions and didn’t involve law enforcement. Figure out what she wants, pay your debt, and be done with her for good. Maybe then, it’ll stop fucking with your head.”

Before Kuroo could respond, the room door creaked open, and Alisa walked in, her heels clicking sharply against the floor as she approached, her smile laced with sweetness and false charm. The warmth of the sunlight framed her in an almost surreal glow, casting her shadow over the room like a predator preparing to strike. She glanced between Kuroo and Kenma, her eyes gleaming with something far too knowing.

“You two are still talking about business?” she asked, her voice sweet as honey, but with a clear undertone of something far more playful. “How boring. I’d much rather be doing something... fun.” She took a few steps closer to Kuroo, her gaze locking onto him with an intensity that bordered on suffocating. 

Kuroo’s patience snapped, his voice cold, sharp. “Alisa, this isn’t the time.”

“Oh, come on Tetsurou,” she cooed, walking closer, her fingers brushing lightly against the back of his chair, her perfume—a mix of expensive florals and something darkly familiar—clinging to the air like a trap. She stepped in, her voice dropping into a more sultry cadence. “You look like you could use some relief, don’t you think?”

The frustration surged in Kuroo, and before he could stop himself, his voice snapped out, harsh. “Don’t call me Tetsurou,” he growled. His eyes flashed dangerously, the words cold and commanding. “Only a few people get to use my first name.”

Her eyes flickered with something unreadable—frustration? Amusement? It was hard to tell. Instead of leaving immediately, she trailed a slow fingertip along the back of Kuroo’s chair, her nails just barely scraping against the wood.

“Oh, I’m sorry, Kuroo,” she purred, voice dipping into something dangerously sweet. “Didn’t mean to overstep.” She tilted her head, eyes locking onto his with something closer to calculation than hurt. “But don’t forget, darling—some of us don’t like being replaced so easily.”

Kuroo’s patience was already worn thin. He rose from his chair, his towering form casting a shadow over the entire room. “I’m serious, Alisa,” he said, his voice low and deadly. “This is business. If you don't have anything valuable to contribute, leave.”

Then, with one last lingering glance at Kuroo, she turned and walked out, her heels clicking against the floor in sharp, deliberate beats.

Kuroo let out a sharp breath, the weight of his frustration slipping momentarily. He stood still for a beat, trying to shake off the anger that simmered beneath the surface, but Kenma didn’t miss it.

Kenma glanced at the door, then turned his attention back to Kuroo, a sly smirk playing at the corners of his lips. “She’s got a way of leaving an impression. Must be exhausting, dealing with that.” His voice was light, but there was sharp meaning behind it, cutting through the stillness.

Kuroo shot him a look, his eyes narrowing slightly, his voice tight with annoyance. “Don’t start.”

Kenma, clearly enjoying the moment, settled deeper into his chair. 

It wasn’t a secret that Alisa and he had a history—some heated moments, a few quick, messy releases—but frankly, Kuroo couldn’t have cared less about her. Their relationship had always been a mutually beneficial transaction. He no longer had the patience for her games. 

Just as they were about to speak again, the door opened, and Fukunaga stepped in, his expression serious with a clipboard in hand.

“Boss,” Fukunaga said, his voice respectful but urgent. “Are you still set to meet with Bokuto later?”

Kuroo’s focus snapped back into place, his movements smooth and controlled. “Yeah. I’ll meet him later. Make sure the funds are ready to move.” Setting the whiskey aside, his mind clicked back into gear. “We need to move quickly. Withdraw what I need, and have everything prepped.”

Fukunaga nodded. “Understood, Boss. I’ll take care of it right away.”

As Fukunaga exited, Kuroo turned to Kenma, his gaze cold and calculating. “Bokuto had been doing well using the bakery as a front for our drug stash, but now I’ve got him handling our finances. Laundering money, tracking earnings, and keeping the books spotless. If anything gets flagged, we’re done.”

Kenma’s eyes narrowed, his expression hardening as he processed the new information. “We can’t afford a slip-up, not after what happened with the last accountant. Bokuto’s curiosity could spell trouble. Keep him in line—don’t let him start digging into things he doesn’t need to know. One wrong question, and it all comes crashing down.”

Kuroo’s lips curled into a grim smile, his voice low and hollow. “Don’t worry. When I see him, I’ll make it very clear who’s in charge... and exactly what’ll happen if he sticks his nose where it doesn’t belong.”

The evening air had softened, and the usual hum had faded into a peaceful stillness, bathed in the amber glow of streetlights. Above, the sky had deepened into rich indigo and violet, the last remnants of daylight bleeding into the horizon, leaving a canvas of tranquil hues.  The colors seemed to breathe with you, a quiet exhale against the weight of the day. As you made your way down the quiet side street to the restaurant, there was a sense of calm in the air, something that allowed you to finally exhale, as if the world itself had offered you a moment of respite.

Your phone buzzed in your hand, the screen lighting up with Koushi’s name. A small smile tugged at your lips, his presence always managing to soothe the tension that seemed to cling to you lately.

"Hey," you answered, your voice much warmer than it had been earlier.

"Hey! I just parked. I’ll wait for you inside," Koushi replied, his cheerful tone reaching through the phone with ease. You could hear the sound of him settling into his seat as you approached the entrance.

The restaurant was small and cozy, tucked away from the bustling main road. It had the kind of atmosphere that made you feel at home—a haven where everything felt simple and calm. As you stepped inside, the savory scents of grilled meats and roasted vegetables welcomed you, easing the tension that had lingered in your chest all day. Koushi waved from a booth near the back, grinning as he spotted you, and immediately, the tightness in your stomach loosened.

You joined him with an exaggerated embrace, laughing as he gently teased you about your apparent exhaustion. The two of you sat down, and after ordering your food, the conversation flowed easily. But despite the usual comfort of your time together, there was an underlying weight that hung between you. Koushi’s sharp eyes never missed a thing.

“So,” Koushi began, pushing his glass of water aside, his tone softening with concern. “You’ve been distant. What’s going on?””

You hesitated, tracing the rim of your glass, as you struggled to find the right words. How could you even explain the tangled mess in your head, especially with the strange pull Tetsurou had on you? The way his presence seemed to haunt you, even now.

“It’s... complicated,” you murmured, your eyes flicking toward the door as another couple entered. “You remember the guy I helped a few weeks ago? The one in the alley?”

Koushi nodded, his eyes narrow as the memory resurfaced. “Tetsurou, right.”

“Yeah,” you said, your voice trailing off as you took a sip of water. “I... can’t stop thinking about him. The whole situation’s been bothering me. It’s making me feel... off.”

Koushi’s brow furrowed as he leaned back in his seat, studying you carefully. The playful expression that usually adorned his face faded, replaced by something more serious. “Did he threaten you?”

“What… no,” you admitted, your voice quiet. “He had this….presence. Like violence was second nature to him. He warned me—told me not to get involved with him.” You hesitated, fingers tightening around your glass, “Part of me felt like I could trust him, He…. He didn’t frighten me. Not really.”

Koushi exhaled sharply, rubbing a hand over his face before leveling you with a look that was equal parts concern and frustration. “Do you hear yourself right now?” His voice was low, and measured, but there was an unmistakable edge beneath it. “He warned you to stay away. Hell, you just said he was violent. And yet, you’re sitting here telling me you trust him?”

He shook his head, leaning forward, his elbows resting on the table. “People like him—who hide things, who have agendas—are dangerous. You need to stay away from him. I know his type of men, they like to push just enough to make you curious, just enough to make you want to get involved with them. You don’t know him. And you sure as hell can’t afford to start trusting him.” 

His fingers tapped against the table, his expression darkening. “Tell me you’re not planning to see him again.”

You hesitated, and the silence stretched just long enough to make Koushi sigh. “Of course not,” you said quickly, but even you didn’t believe it.

Koushi fell silent for a moment, his gaze shifting toward the window. The noise from the street filtered in, momentarily muffling the restaurant’s ambiance. His lips pressed together as if weighing something in his mind, and then he spoke again, his tone heavier this time.

“You know," He said, his voice tinged with concern, “this makes me even more apprehensive about the area you live in”

Your stomach twisted slightly, but you said nothing, waiting for him to continue.

“What happened a few weeks ago…” He trailed off, glancing down at his hands before meeting your gaze again. “That man —he shouldn’t have been anywhere near you, let alone been brought your apartment.”

You took a slow breath, trying to keep your tone even. “I wasn’t going to leave him to die, Koushi. And I’m fine. I handled it.”

Koushi’s expression softened, but the worry in his eyes didn’t fade. “I know you did. But that’s not the point. Your place—it’s not safe. You deserve better than this. There’s no reason you should be living in a neighborhood like that. The city might not be perfect, but there are safer places you could be.”

You shifted uncomfortably as Koushi’s words settled in. As if I hadn’t thought about that before. As if the reality of my situation wasn’t constantly looming over me like an inescapable shadow.

“I don’t have much of a choice,” you muttered, trying to keep the bitterness from creeping into your tone. “It’s all I can afford on my salary, Koushi. I’m trying my best.”  

What little money you had left over went to groceries and student loan payments. 

No matter how hard you worked, or how many shifts you picked up, they never seemed to shrink. The debt clung to you, a constant reminder that no matter how many years had passed since college, you were still paying the price—literally—for a future you were barely holding together. The idea of moving somewhere safer? Laughable. You were lucky to have a roof over your head at all.

You were doing the best you could. That was the lie you told yourself, anyway. Koushi didn’t the full extent of your financial troubles, and you weren’t about to tell him.

His sigh was heavy frustration evident in the way he ran a hand through his hair. “I know you are,” he said, his voice softer now. “But I’ve seen what happens in places like that. What if it’s worse next time? You got lucky this time. But what if next time, you aren’t?

His words cut deeper than you wanted to admit. I know I got lucky. But what now? Just pick up and leave? With what money? Rent in a safer neighborhood was nearly double what you paid now. Even if you miraculously scraped together the cash for a deposit, how long would it last before you were drowning again?

You stared down at the table, picking at your napkin, as the memories flooded in—of a time when you didn’t have to worry about safety when home was a place of warmth and laughter. You remembered your mother’s soothing voice, how she used to read bedtime stories, the rhythm of her words wrapping around you like a soft, protective blanket. It was the kind of comfort that made you feel safe as if nothing could ever go wrong. Your father, too, had been a steady presence, always in the kitchen, filling the house with the smell of home-cooked meals, humming to himself as he worked. His laughter had been the heartbeat of the house, making everything feel grounded, stable, and peaceful. You used to feel like warmth was something you could reach out and touch.

But that warmth had a way of vanishing when you needed it most. And now, it felt like everything was a distant memory, a ghost of a time when life didn’t feel so uncertain.

“I’m fine,” you said, your voice quiet but firm, pushing back the unease creeping up your spine. “I’ll make it work.”

Koushi didn’t look convinced, but he nodded slowly, his fingers tightening slightly around yours as he reached across the table. “I just want you to know… if you ever need a way out, I’m here. Always.”

You gave him a small smile, grateful for his support, though it didn’t quite reach the growing knot of unease deep inside you. The rest of the conversation passed in a blur, as Koushi tried his best to lighten the mood with stories of his students causing chaos at school. 

His familiar presence helped, but it was hard to shake the weight of the previous conversations you had—your financial strain, Tetsurou, the quiet ache of a home that once felt warm, a family that had been taken too soon. The comfort Koushi offered now only reminded you how much you had already lost; how little warmth remained in your life. You had learned to survive without it, but it still lingered like a shadow, reminding you of what you could never have again.

Unbeknownst to you, as you absentmindedly picked at your food, Kuroo entered the restaurant. His dark attire sharply contrasted against the warm glow of the space, and his eyes scanned the room with calculated care. His steps were smooth and purposeful, but when they landed on your booth, his gaze faltered, a jolt of something unfamiliar surging through him. His pulse picked up, the sensation so sudden and sharp that it felt like fate had nudged him into a direction he hadn’t anticipated.

The last time he’d seen you, everything had been chaos, and even now, he found himself thinking about you more than he cared to admit. There you were, sitting across from the man, smiling, looking so effortlessly at ease. You were—so composed, your laughter light and genuine—made him pause. He admired how the soft glow of the restaurant highlighted the warmth of your expression, the way the light caught your hair. You looked… different, more at peace than when he last saw you, and it struck him harder than he wanted to admit.

The knot in his gut tightened. Something about your appearance, the ease with which you existed at this moment, dug under his skin in a way he wasn’t ready to confront. The sight of you—so unaffected, so natural with someone else—made a strange jealousy flicker to life in his chest. 

Who the fuck was this guy?

Kuroo couldn’t pinpoint what about you had gotten under his skin. There was something there, some unspoken pull that made him want to know more, even though it didn’t make sense. It wasn’t like him to be intrigued by someone in this way, especially not someone like you. But the attraction was undeniable, pulling at him with an intensity he couldn’t ignore. He wondered if maybe this—this encounter—was more than mere coincidence.

But before he allowed himself to think further, his phone buzzed, pulling him back to the reality of the moment. He glanced at the screen briefly, then returned his gaze to the two of you. His attention needed to be elsewhere. As he made his way to the back, where his meeting with Bokuto awaited, the image of you—completely unaware—remained stubbornly in his mind. Fate had placed him here, and something told him this encounter was far from over.

You felt a strange shift in the air, the weight of someone’s gaze on you. The hairs on the back of your neck stood up, a faint prickle of unease crawling down your spine. When you looked up, though, the restaurant was just as it had been—a warm, cozy space, no one staring. But the feeling lingered, nagging at you.

As the night wore on, the city slipped into its quieter hours. The restaurant’s warmth still clung to your skin as you stepped onto the dimly lit sidewalk, Koushi following close behind. The crisp air carried the scent of snow on the horizon, a promise a harsh winter would be settling over the city.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to drive you home?” Koushi asked, his brow furrowing as he shoved his hands into his coat pockets. “It’s late.”

You shook your head with a reassuring smile. “I’ll be fine. It’s just a few blocks.”

Koushi didn’t look convinced, but he sighed, knowing arguing would get him nowhere. “Text me when you get home, all right?”

“I will.”

He hesitated before pulling you into a quick hug, his warmth momentarily shielding you from the night’s chill. “Be safe.”

With a final glance back at him, you turned and began walking, the city’s pulse a steady rhythm beneath your feet. The streetlights buzzed faintly overhead, casting long shadows against the cracked pavement. The occasional hum of a passing car was the only sound accompanying your footsteps.

Despite the quiet, an unease prickled at the edges of your senses. It was subtle—like an itch at the back of your mind, a whisper beneath the hum of the street. You exhaled sharply, shaking off the tension. Koushi’s earlier words lingered in your mind. He wasn’t exactly wrong—your neighborhood wasn’t safe. The flickering streetlights, the occasional sound of distant shouting, the way you always kept your keys between your fingers when walking home—it wasn’t ideal. But what choice did you have?

You thought about the way the city felt like it was closing in, the quiet had settled in with you. In some strange way, it reminded you of a time long ago—before all of this. Back when your world still felt warm.

Your mother had always tried to shield you from the dark things, the struggles that weighed on her silently. At only eight years old, you couldn't comprehend the depths of her battle. Darkness had crept into her mind like a quiet shadow, something you couldn’t see but could feel in the spaces between her smiles and gentle touches. She hid it so well—those smiles, those soft, comforting hands—but beneath it all, the weight of her depression dragged her further and further away. It was as if, despite all her efforts to mask it, something inside her was quietly breaking. In the end, it became too much for her. She succumbed to her demons, ending her own life.

You were left with your father—a man who tried to hold it together for you. He did everything he could to keep things normal, even when it was clear that his grief was consuming him. He wasn’t just mourning her; he was mourning his inability to save her from herself. You could see it in his eyes—how every day felt like a failure to him. But what could he have done? What could anyone have done? In the silence of her absence, you started to understand just how fragile everything was. And that truth hurt far more than any single moment of loss.

When you were ten, the world seemed to shatter again. Your father was diagnosed with lung cancer, and in those moments, it felt like a sick, cruel repetition. You remembered his face, drained of color when the doctors gave him the news, and how it changed everything from that point on. You spent the next three years in the sterile, bitter air of hospital rooms, never really knowing if the next visit would be the last. You were too young to process the gravity of what was happening, but you could sense the finality of it. Your father’s strength faded, just as your mother’s had, and there were moments when you could see the same helplessness in his eyes that you’d once seen in hers. The weight of everything was too much for one person to bear.

When you were 13, you lost him too. And suddenly, the house felt like a tomb—empty and silent. There were no more shared meals, no more laughter or soft hums of comfort in the kitchen. There was just the hollow echo of everything you once had, everything you once were.

That loss, that emptiness, stayed with you. You realized then that you couldn’t trust anyone to stay—no one could be relied on forever. People came and went, and with every loss, a piece of you hardened. You couldn’t bear to be close to anyone without the fear of them slipping away. That fear of being abandoned, of having your world shattered once more, was something you couldn’t shake, no matter how hard you tried. You had learned to keep your heart locked away, to guard it fiercely, because if you didn’t, you were afraid it would just keep breaking.

The cold air bit at your skin, pulling you away from those thoughts. The city, once familiar, now seemed colder—lonelier. The darkness crept around you, and each step you took through the quiet streets felt heavier than the last. Your mind raced, the unease growing in the pit of your stomach. It was as if something was watching you, waiting. You quickened your pace until a strange, unnerving sensation crawled up your spine.

A rustle. A footstep.

You turned sharply, only for a hand to clamp over your mouth, yanking you back into an alley. Panic surged through your veins, but you didn’t freeze. You twisted, using the momentum to stomp hard on your attacker’s foot. The grip loosened slightly, just enough for you to elbow them in the ribs and tear-free. You barely made it two steps before another hand grabbed your wrist, firm but non-violent.

“Relax, doc,” a voice purred, cold and smooth, wrapping around you like a snare. “Didn’t think you were the type to get so feisty."

That voice.

You froze, dread crawling up your neck. Slowly, you turned, already knowing who would be there.

Tetsurou.

There he was, leaning lazily against the alley wall as if he owned it, his smirk wide and confident, his eyes gleaming with something that made your stomach twist. He didn’t move, didn’t even flinch as you took him in—the same arrogant posture, the same gleaming golden eyes that always saw too much, always knew more than you did.

“Don’t touch me,” you spat, heart racing, the terror still clinging to your bones. You jerked your arm, trying to pull free from his grasp. His fingers barely tightened, like he was waiting for you to test the limits of your resistance.

“Why are you out here all alone?” His tone was teasing, amused even as if this was some game. “A little reckless, don’t you think?”

 “What the hell do you want?” you shot back, struggling against his grasp. 

He tilted his head, amusement dancing in his eyes. “I don’t want anything, doc. Just trying to look out for you.”  His lips curled into a lazy grin as he released his grip on you. “You’re making it easy for someone else to grab you first.”

“Easy?” you snapped, voice rising with indignation. “You’re the one who grabbed me, you sick—”

He raised a hand, cutting you off, his expression growing more serious, his gaze never leaving you. “Calm down. I’m not here to hurt you.”

The words had no weight, no comfort. You could feel the tension in the air thickening, the pressure of his presence suffocating you.

“Then what?” You demanded.

His eyes glinted. “I want you to consider an offer.” He took a step closer, invading your space without hesitation. “You’re in over your head. You’re out here alone, on your own, with no one to watch your back. Don’t tell me you don’t know what kind of city this is. People like me… we don’t let people like you wander around without knowing what’s at stake.”

The insinuation hit hard. You swallowed thickly, trying to keep the lump in your throat from betraying you. “You don’t know anything about me.”

“I don’t?” He shrugged like it was nothing as if he wasn’t talking about your life, your safety. “You’re struggling, aren’t you?” His voice was suddenly colder, harder. “Money, debts, living in fear, worrying about whether you’ll be able to pay rent next month. I can see it in your eyes, You don’t have to keep scraping by.”

Your breath caught in your throat. “How do you know about that?”

He gave a sly grin, his gaze darkening. “I know more than you think. It’s what I do.” He leaned backward, his eyes gleaming with intent. “I’ve got a proposition for you.”

You furrowed your brow, trying to keep your composure. “A proposition?” you asked, your voice steady, though your stomach churned.

“Mm,” he hummed, a smirk tugging at his lips. Leaning in closer, his presence overwhelming, his voice dropped to a dangerous whisper. “A job.”

“A job?” You laughed, but it came out bitter, laced with incredulity. “What are you going to make me do? Sell my soul?”

His eyes gleamed with something darker, more calculating. “Not at all, doc. I need someone like you. You’re a surgical assistant. You know your way around wounds, and injuries—things people like me can’t just go to a hospital for. You’re someone who can keep their mouth shut, knows how to handle people, and isn’t afraid to get their hands dirty.”

You stared at him, heart racing. The weight of his words settled like a stone in your chest. You had no idea whether you should be terrified or intrigued. “People like you?”

His lips curled into a smirk that didn’t reach his eyes. “People like me… people who have enemies, who don’t have the luxury of going to a hospital when things go south. I need someone who can keep them alive. Someone with your skills. Think of it as being an underground doctor.”

Your mind spun, your thoughts a blur. The words "underground doctor" echoed in your mind, but nothing seemed to settle. He was asking you to step into a world you knew nothing about—a world full of danger, of things you couldn’t even begin to imagine.

“You want me to patch up criminals,” you said, voice flat, though inside, everything was screaming at you to walk away. “To be your medic.”

He nodded, his expression serious now, the casual arrogance replaced with something more intent, more purposeful. “I’m offering you security. A way out of this shithole you’re living in. A way up. You won’t have to keep looking over your shoulder every damn second. No more locking yourself in at night, hoping nobody’s out there.” His voice dropped to a whisper, and the words hit harder than anything he’d said before. “I’ll give you a place to belong. A place where you’re not just a little lost soul trying to survive. You can have more than that. If you’re smart enough to take it.”

Your mind raced, but you couldn’t shake the sense of déjà vu. Koushi had just told you that you deserved better and that you shouldn’t have to live in fear. And now here was Tetsurou, offering a “solution” that felt more like a trap.

“Were you following me?” The words shot out harsher than you intended before you could stop them.

His smirk widened. “No.” He leaned in a little closer, his breath brushing your ear as he whispered, “I don’t need to follow you to know exactly where you are.”

The words hung in the air, suffocating, pulling at you from all directions. You knew the cost. You knew the price of getting involved with someone like him—someone dangerous, someone whose world you’d never understand. But as you stood there, breath shallow and mind spinning, the thought of running from this decision… the thought of facing another night in that shitty apartment alone… made the offer sound almost too tempting.

“Why would you offer this to me?” you managed, barely able to find your voice.

His presence loomed over you, his breath warm against your skin. “I owe you. You saved my life, the least I can do is offer you a better life in return.”

"You think I’d just jump at your offer?" you shot back, trying to keep the bite in your voice, though you could feel your resolve slipping. He was right about one thing—life was wearing you down.

His grin didn’t fade, but there was a flicker in his eyes like he could sense your hesitation. He straightened up slightly, letting the silence hang between you for a moment, before speaking again, quieter this time.

"Not jump. Just... think about it. There’s a place for you in my world. And for once, you won’t have to keep running."

Your stomach twisted. Running. You weren’t sure what unsettled you more—that he saw straight through you or that he wasn’t wrong.

"I don't need your help," you managed, your voice wavering slightly despite your best efforts to sound sure of yourself.

"That's what they all say," he replied smoothly, his tone almost sympathetic, but his eyes never lost their calculating gleam. "But everyone needs a little help eventually."

You hated that he was right. You hated it more because you could see it: the lifeline he was offering, however twisted, while you were drowning in a sea of uncertainty.

Despite everything you knew about Tetsurou—his cold, calculating demeanor, the dangerous air that clung to him like a second skin—you couldn’t shake this strange, irrational trust in him. It was a crazy thing to feel. He was dangerous, no doubt about it, but there was something about him, something you couldn’t quite place, that made you believe he wouldn’t hurt you. 

Maybe it was the way he looked at you—like he saw through all the walls you built around yourself. Maybe it was the fact that, for a brief moment, you felt like he cared. But that didn’t mean you were willing to dive headfirst into his world. You couldn’t forget the price of that trust. The consequences of even stepping a toe into the world he lived in.

"Think it over," Tetsurou continued, his gaze locked onto yours, unblinking, unwavering. "But this offer’s good for 24 hours. After that, it's off the table."

24 hours. That was all you had. A choice that could change everything. Your heart thundered in your chest. The shadows were closing in, and you could feel the weight of the decision pressing on you, suffocating. The life he offered was dangerous, but the alternative... scraping by in fear, always looking over your shoulder—was just as suffocating.

“I’ll think about it,” you whispered, the words slipping out more like a tentative promise to yourself than anything else.

Tetsurou’s lips curled into a knowing smirk. He seemed pleased with your answer. “Good.” His voice softened, almost too softly. “I’ll find you again.”

And then he was gone, swallowed by the night, leaving you alone with the weight of a decision you weren’t ready to make.

The alley felt colder now, the silence pressing in around you.

Koushi’s voice echoed in your mind, warning you, pleading with you to stay away from him.

You should.

You knew you should.

But you weren’t sure you would.

And that terrified you more than anything.

[juchily]

Yellowjackets S3 Ep5 thoughts

spoilers below ⚠️

Misty and her love for smelling dead people's stuff... my favorite girl of all time everyone

Shauna and Melissa match each others freak so bad I don't think I've seen a more freaky lesbian couple and that saying something because we have adult taivan right there

Shauna electing burning but then when Natalie says firing squad she tries to put it on her... Shauna isn't just mad at Ben (because her anger was riled up by her baby being brought up in the trial by Tai) but also Nat by proxy of her hiding him, putting it on Nat would be cruel and she knows it

Another card pull... When has that ever gone bad guys?

King of hearts? This is interesting, I have no clue why Van would propose that but it's definetly important. Maybe it has something to do with adding more cards to the pull of meaning someone was chosen

Oh, the suicide king. Nevermind. This could symbolize many things but honestly I should just keep watching before coming to conclusions lol

This is so funny, Shauna and Walter are both following Misty you can't make this up. Walter is so bad at tailing that Shauna can't even focus on tailing Misty, who is absolutely oblivious.

On another note Misty is so cute, her car, her white picket fence, in another world she's a foster cat mom I know it need a domestic life with her NOW

Suicide king, Taissa, and Coach Ben, thats probably something to come back to later

Yeah... Taissa does not sound confident at all about not killing Lottie

HOLY SHIT CRAZY LOTTIE LORE DROP

Lived in a penthouse with her parents, then they divorced (probably over Lottie's schizophrenia and how the Matthews had different feelings about it), in the pre crash with her taking her meds we now know that she lives with her mother so Mr Matthews is out of the picture. This gives new light to "yeah that's pretty much his only form of parenting" when it comes to him renting the plane for the girls trip. I used to DREAM of this lore

LOTTIE'S BEEN LIVING WITH HER DAD SINCE GETTING KICKED FROM SHAUNAS???

Ooo getting Other Tai to shoot Ben? Yeah that also totally won't go wrong... Having a DIRT EATING version of Tai who BITES have the only gun. And possibly incriminate Tai if Other Tai does something bad in that situation.

Shat is sooo cute oml Shauna just can't imagine someone actually loving her (the exact thing that led to Jackie's death)

We talk about have Misty had something wrong with her before the wilderness, Lottie did, etc. but maybe Melissa did because damn she knew Jeff and Shauna were hooking up? Did she have a crush on her pre crash??

God... Akilah's going to die or exposure to toxic gas because WHY does Lottie think it's a good idea to— oh wait we're talking about Lottie who's been encouraging Travis to do shrooms, perhaps contributing to setting him on the course for addiction post rescue

God she's really dead I don't think I'll be able to function as a member of society anymore guys 😁

Can't believe Travis is going. I don't think Lottie somehow convinced him, I think he's going to supervise and protect Akilah to make sure Lottie doesn't do anything drastic

Mr Matthews definetly has dementia or idk maybe not, shit I wonder how this is going to go because Misty already abuses the elderly... Better yet a shithead like Mr Matthews

Oh... Mr Matthews out right saying he's paying off the police to call Lottie's death an accident. As if we didn't have more reason to hate him

Oml really Shauna and Walter were already there the adult timeline really is a comedy half the time. I almost feel bad for Mr Matthews, no wonder he didn't want to let Misty in he already had two people lying to him and being suspicious to get into his home 😭

Shauna bringing out the middle school humour she really does hate Misty right now

I just KNOW Lottie has some devious stuff in her search history

TAIVAN FOR THE WIN 💥

goddman van palmer can get it shit

Did Tai think it was a good idea to bring Van or did Simone figure it out and tell her to bring Van? Either way this is the shit I've been dreaming of, more Simone, Simone and Van meeting... Elite

Well that was underwhelming and confusing, why would Sammy ask for Tai then seem to get scared when she comes (unless it's Other Tai here, or Simone lied about Sammy wanting this, or whatever the hell)

Walter is severely fucked in the head to think it's a fun competition when it concerns one of Misty's DEAD FRIENDS and her perhaps BEING NEXT IN LINE TO DIE IF THIS IS A CONSPIRACY

but you don't need me to tell you that

This low-key has to be the start to Misty finding a girl to kiss because honestly... Yeah at that point you need a whole palate cleanser

Or maybe that's just me wanting Misty to kiss a girl but like Christina Ricci wants it too 🤷

WHOA YOUNG LOTTIE'S FACE COVERED IN BLOOD? Also ButcherQueen moment... She's mourning her situationship guys...

Ugh that scene with Shauna/Lottie and Mr Matthews... So bittersweet

Theres probably some symbolism from Akilah's hallucination... Something something Coach Ben leading them/them using him to get to civilization in some way

like father like daughter... God Nat being the first one picked by the wilderness and getting the necklace and telling Shauna to look her in the eye... Coach Ben being the second and doing the same while Nat gives him the necklace...

The fact they had to bag him, they had to dehumanize him in their vision to even come to be able to take his life, the speech DID effect them

Not Shauna calling Nat a saint... She always loved the saints guys... Especially the tragic ones.

Jesus thats just...

I can't explain it but somehow that final scene with Melissa cutting Ben's ankle (achilles heel? I don't know) is somehow more disturbing than if they burned him alive, or ate him, or shot him.

Like he already can't walk well, he's missing a leg. But the idea of him being held captive as their "bridge" and being unable to have any autonomy to move around... That is body horror. Like it feels like they just cut his other leg off, but without actually having done so

[arkhamsrevenge]

PS5 Harry Osborn x Reader requested by @seele-opal - how abt something with harry and the symbiote before he went full venom? maybe something abt how it'll react to its hosts' romantic partner

Trigger Warning! This story contains violence and talks about abuse, suicide  and death!

You went to high school with Peter Parker, Mary Jane Watson and Harry Osborn. They were always nice to you but often left you to your own devices. A couple times you had scared off Flash and his buddies due to your wit and unwavering hate for the school bullies. When you heard Harry’s mother had died, you secretly started to make copies of your school work and put his name on them to lessen the load for him when he returned to school. You had kept your secret hidden well for a while until you ran into Peter Parker in the school library. Well more like he ran into you, papers scattered everywhere and as Peter helped you pick them up he saw doubles of each paper you were working on. 

“So you’re the one passing Harry in Honors Lit and Economics.” He whispered. You shrugged. 

“He’s going through it. Thought I’d lighten the load.” After that, Peter and MJ started eating lunch at your table. They never forced you to take your headphones out when you wanted to eat while listening to music or if you didn’t say anything at all. In fact, you were starting to like their company. Harry eventually came back to school and was surprised to know he wasn’t missing many assignments. Peter of course brought him up to speed and later that day you received a note in your locker. It was from Harry, a thank you note for helping him out. You smiled and tucked it into your bag then someone cleared their voice behind you. You turned to see Harry himself holding a small bunch of violets. 

“I know they aren’t much and I picked them outside the school but I wanted to get you something and MJ said you keep drawing violets on your paper when you're bored.” You blink not knowing just how closely those two had paid attention to you. You swallowed roughly and a small smile appeared on your face. 

“Thanks. That was really nice of you.” Harry laughed. 

“You…I’m the one that should be on my knees thanking you. I’m still going to graduate on time because of you.” You shook your head. 

“It was nothing really. It’s tough to go through…a loss. It sucks. Feels like you’ve been gutted and your chest feels like someone keeps putting weight on it. It’s hard to even get up and walk most days.” You chose your words carefully. 

“Sounds like you’re familiar with this.” Harry’s eyes dropped down, tears starting to well up in his eyes. Your heart started to break. No one had been there to hold you together when your sister died by suicide. You had to hold everyone together because they were falling apart and looking to you, the oldest sibling, to fill in the cracks. It was so hard but you got through it. Now you go to therapy once a week to correct all the damage done to your mind. 

“I am.” You say stepping closer. “If…uh…I’m a good listener. You know, whenever.” Harry met your eyes and a small smile appeared on his face. 

“Thanks. I gotta go meet up with Pete for a project but catch you later?” You nodded and laughed as Harry waved goodbye. A couple weeks later Harry took you out on a date and you guys were a thing, not really a couple officially but a thing. MJ and Peter had the same thing going on. You even had your first kiss together in Pete’s backyard when you guys hung out for a movie night. Pete and MJ had gone into get more snacks and silence fell between you and Harry. You turned to him to ask him something when he kissed you. It wasn’t a perfect kiss by any means but you both kissed each other and then DIDN'T SPEAK OF IT AGAIN. Awkward as both were, kisses were still stolen in private. Graduation came and went but all of you kept in touch until Harry just disappeared one day to go to Europe. Eventually Peter and MJ found out what had happened to him, he wasn’t in Europe. He was sick and dying, he had been diagnosed with the same disease his mother died from. Shock would be an understatement as MJ was telling you this over the phone. 

“Shit that's..awful. Where are you now?” You ask when you hear a honking noise from outside your apartment complex. “Outside. Come on.” MJ answers. You laugh and grab your bag and head out the door to run into…Harry Osborn? After not seeing him in months you expected from him to be sickly, dying but he looked just like you remembered him. 

“Woah. Sorry. Uh…” He said steadying himself with his cane. You held him, got his footing and waited. “I had this whole image of me learning on the wall over here all cool while you came outside but got too excited I guess.” He even sounded the same. He had the same bright tone in his voice and he didn’t sound out of breath or anything. The look in his eyes confused you. You couldn't understand what it was but he was looking at you like he was fighting something back. But still you huff out a laugh. 

“How bout you get more of your strength back then you can try to put the moves on me, OK?” Harry laughed and pulled you into a hug. You wrapped your arms around him and let him hug you for as long as he wanted. 

“Thought I’d never see you again.” He whispered. You held on tighter and Harry let you go. “I’m sorry. I was being treated here in the city and didn't want you to worry about me. I’m OK though. I’m in remission.” Your jaw dropped. 

“That’s great. I’m glad to hear it.” Then another honk came from behind Harry. Peter was honking Harry’s car. 

“COME ON! I’D LIKE TO GET TO CONEY ISLAND TODAY!” You laughed and rolled your eyes. Harry offered you his arm and you both laughed as you carefully assented down the stairs. MJ opened the car door for you and held out a hand as you climbed in. Harry got into the driver's seat and drove to the docks where you guys caught a boat to Coney Island. Once there, all four of you went on all your favorite rides. It was just like back in high school except trouble struck. The villain known as Tombstone was captured by other bad guys? You weren’t sure because all you could do was look for your friends as you all had been separated. Tombstone looked so scared. You felt bad for him, just seconds ago he was telling you where to get the best caramel apples on Coney Island and even said thank you for talking to him. Well these people were trying to take him so as SpiderMonkey was fighting most of them off you went to try and help Tombstone. A net had been thrown on him so you started to cut it with your pocket knife, trying to free him. 

“Get outta here kid! It aint gonna cut it!” He shouted at you but you were determined to help him until you were thrown to the side landing rough. You look up to see a man standing over you with a knife. You kick him in the shin and take off only to have a sharp pain run up your thigh. The bastard had thrown his knife and it sliced through your thigh. You fell and held your hand to you leg hoping to stop the bleeding. As you hid around a corner Spider-man ran off to save the people on the busted roller coaster. You started to get light headed, wanting to call out to the hero but didn’t want the people on the roller coaster to die. 

“OH MY GOD!” You feel someone jerk you which makes you yell out in pain. You look to see MJ’s scared eyes. “Ohmygodohmygod oh no nonononono. Just stay with me alright? I’m gonna…I’m getting you help just keep putting-HARRY!” MJ screamed. Your eyes started to get heavy. You're losing too much blood. “HEY HEY HEY! DON’T EVEN THINK ABOUT! LOOK AT ME!” Hands grab your face and shake slightly. Your eyes try to focus knowing the voice belongs to Harry who was desperately trying to keep you awake. 

“We gotta stop the bleeding! Keep putting pressure on the leg. I'll go get a paramedic!.” MJ says as Harry carefully puts his arm behind you and his other under your legs. He pulls you closer to him and whispers

“Just say with me. OK? I’m not losing you a second time. We barely got a chance to- '' You suddenly feel something crawling up your leg, you don't have the strength to move it but you do have enough to open your eyes. Black goo like tentacles were creeping up your leg, stopping at the gash in your thigh, the goo covers it and the pain slowly fades. Are you imagining this? “Holy shit.” Harry. Harry’s still here? The goo continues to cover your body until everything fades to black. 

You gasp for air look around frantically, your still at Coney Island but on a roof top and someone was still holding you. You look up to see Harry, sitting with you curled up against him. 

“Hey.” He breathes sounding relieved that you woke up. 

“Hi? What happened?” You ask. 

“Well…we need to talk.” You turn to see Peter in a Spider-man suit. “Now I know this might be shocking but-” “Oh please.” You croak. “I’ve known for years.” You say starting to move trying to stand. 

“Woah. Not so fast OK? You lost a lot of blood.” Harry says holding you tighter. “Your body temp is still a little low so just…for now just stay.” 

“I should be dead.” You whisper. “How is it I’m not?” Harry looks to Pete who looks right back at him. 

“I…think I healed you.” Harry says. You blink thinking he’s lost his marbles. 

“Huh.” Then tentacles start peaking out of Harry's back. So you weren’t hallucinating. “Harry what?” 

“It’s my treatment. This exoskeleton suit is healing me but…it healed you leg and then like wrapped around your entire body until you were healed enough. I have no idea who it works but I’m glad it did.” Your jaw is still on the floor not knowing what to say. “Pete and I are going to run some tests and you're gonna come. I’m not letting you out of my sight until you see Dr. Connors.” Harry says picking you up with ease. He wasn’t able to do that before. 

“Harry, how-” “The suit. It really did heal me more than I could have hoped for.” 

[gyll-yee-haw]

This can either be Jake or Donnie, but can you write something where they help the reader through a depression episode?

Yes, baby <3

I went with Donnie, because we're having an overdose of him here :)

I know this is a very very sensitive topic, but that's why we have to talk about it. And I'm here for it, as a survivor. But please, extra attention to the warnings on this one!

Warnings: depression, mention of suicidal thoughts, bad description of what I remember from therapy lol, bad parents, Donnie being a sweet perfect bf.

Like 1.2k words.

---

Donnie stroked your hair as you rested your head on his lap, tears staining his jeans. He hated this. Hated seeing you like this. You were so sweet and caring and you didn't deserve this. If he could, he would take your place at any minute.

But he couldn't. And he searched his mind for anything he could possibly do to help. That's when the idea came to his mind.

---

Sitting in front of his therapist, he had the most determined face she had ever seen. There was something different about him that day.

"I need to help someone, but I don't know how." He started, very seriously.

"Someone?" She asked curiously.

"It's my girlfriend." He explained. He didn't want to waste time with those details. He just had to know what to do. "She's been going through a lot..."

"I see." She sat comfortably on her chair. "And how do you think you could help?"

"I don't know." He sighed, playing anxiously with his fingers.

He told her about the way you've been acting and the things you had been saying about yourself. About how hopeless you were, how you just couldn't get out of bed these last days, not going to school or doing the things you liked... the things that made you you.

She paid attention to everything, taking notes when he said something that reminded her of him. It was intriguing how he chased your cure more than he ever seemed to care about his own.

"It's very nice that you want to help her, Donnie. She will need help of everyone she loves." The therapist told him. "But looks like a very serious case. One that may require professional help."

"I know, but her parents just won't pay for it." He explained, annoyed at that thought. "They think she's overreacting, they don't believe her."

"I see." She sighed. Donnie didn't always believe in the effectiveness of therapy as well. But the fact that he was asking for her help, meant he was starting to trust it a bit more. Maybe helping his girlfriend would help him more than he knew. "Remember when we talked about the waves?"

"The feelings are like waves." He repeated it from memory. "The good and the bad ones. They always pass... they reach their peak and then they fade, even when it doesn't look like they will."

"That's very good, Donnie." She smiled. "You should tell her that."

"I will!" He nodded. "What else should I say?"

___

He couldn't get to your house fast enough after he left the therapist's office. And when he did, he found you laying in bed, curled in a ball. Didn't look like you had cried recently, but didn't look like you had gotten any sleep either. You were just holding on.

"Hi, baby." He greeted you sweetly.

"Hey." You spoke weakly, not having used your voice since the last time he was there. "How was therapy?"

"It was nice." He told you, removing his shoes and laying down beside you on the bed. "We actually... talked about you today."

"Me?" You frowned. Oh no. You knew the state you were in was upsetting him, you just didn't know you had become a problem he needed to solve at therapy.

"Yeah." He brought you close, wrapping his arms around you and placing a kiss on the top of your head.

"I'm sorry. I know it sucks being around me right now." You answered. He could feel you were tense, didn't melt in his embrace like you usually did. That's how he knew you misunderstood him.

"It doesn't. It never will." He reassured you. "It's not about me, baby. What I did today was ask for ways to help you."

"You can't help me." You shook your head. "No one can."

"I will. I will help you, no matter what I have to do." He held you just a little tighter, emphasizing his words. There was a moment of silence before he admitted: "I'm fucking terrified of losing you."

Your heart stopped. The fact that Donnie knew what you were thinking without you saying a word was a mixed blessing. It helped when you couldn't physically speak, like these last days. But at the same time, you couldn't hide anything from him. Those thoughts weren't frequent... but you couldn't deny that sometimes you wished you could just disappear. You didn't want to die, you just didn't want to be there sometimes. And those ideas terrified you way too much to be said out loud.

"Promise you'll let me try." He begged.

"Okay." Was all you could say. You didn't feel strong enough to do this, but you wouldn't forgive yourself for breaking his heart.

"Right." There was a little sparkle of hope in his voice. "There's one thing we could try, okay? Not now, but... when the time comes."

He felt you finally relax in his arms, and took that as a sign to continue. "Whenever you feel like saying something bad about yourself... or even think about it... you have to know that it's not true, it's your brain making it up, because it's sick."

"Donnie..." you sighed.

"I know, I know." He interrupted you. "How can you know if your brain is lying? There's this technique... called, hm... best friend technique? Fuck it, I don't remember. You can just use me. It's called Donnie technique now. When you have a bad thought, imagine it's me saying that about myself. Think about how you'd act... if you'd let me say that about me. If the answer is no, then you shouldn't be saying it about you either."

"Donnie technique." You chuckled.

"That's right." His heart filled with joy after hearing you chuckle. "Promise me you will try?"

"I promise." You snuggled closer to his chest. "I'm not sure if it will work, but I'll try."

"That's my girl. My brave girl." He stroked your hair, both of you feeling so peaceful. "There are many things we can try. And we will try them all if we have to. I'll be here with you, okay?"

"Thank you, Don." You rested your forehead against his heartbeat. You felt so safe. The hope he felt earlier was starting to spread towards you. "I love you so much."

"I love you too. You don't have to thank me, you just have to try, okay?"

Your promise was made and you intended to keep it.

[alexablissmark]

detention (part 1) [hook x female reader]

you get a detention and your least favorite person decides to join you. female reader.

warnings: angst, bullying, gossip, middle school trauma, shootings, manipulation, nudes, swearing, suicide, intimidation, bad puns, revoked privilege

this is slightly based on personal experiences and my own schools stupid attendance policy ♡

For the third time this week, you left the house too late. For the second time this week, your car wouldn't start. And for the first time this week, you received a detention.

What a stupid policy.

You'd think school would be the one place where being late is forgiven. People would be kind and empathetic towards you and understand that there are millions of factors going into being in class before 8AM, most of which are out of your control. Right?

Wrong.

Well, surely you'd only have to make up the five minutes of class that'd you have missed? It's not a big deal.

Also, wrong.

Fifty minutes for every tardy after the two "freebies" as they had called it. So there you were, sitting in detention. Detention started at 3:35. If you were late, they sent you home, and you had to serve a second one. You made sure you were there by 3:33, at the latest. There were a few people already there. You sat a table by yourself. Two to a table, please. There came in a few more kids after you. It was a busy day for detention.

"Julia?" The teacher, Mr. Regal, called.

"Here," she said.

"Brittany?"

"Here,"

"Adam?"

"Here,"

"Max?"

"Here,"

"Tyler?"

"Here,"

"Y/N?"

"Here,"

That's when you stopped listening to roll-call.

The aforementioned Tyler sat next to you. Not because he wanted to, but because it was the last open seat available, and he walked in last. Tyler was basically the embodiment of everything a dad wanted his son to be. Young, handsome, athletic, seemingly well-mannered. But to you, he was everything but well-mannered. He was nothing except a cold-hearted devil.

Even though you've been going to the same school your entire life, it'd been hard to make friends. The closed off community you had been forced to surround yourself with was filled with nothing but elitists.

(a/n: see what i did there? imso funny hahaha please laugh)

Your first run-in with Tyler was in first grade. He sat at your table. He took scissors to your hair. When the teacher came over, it looked like you were the one who did it. He never said sorry and was mean to you for the rest of the year. You got your scissor privileges taken away. His friends joined in on teasing you sometime during second grade.

After fourth grade, they stopped being mean to you in your face and spread rumors instead. It earned you a visit to the principals office with police officers waiting for you. A list had been found by a "concerned student" and was brought to the schools attention. The student said he believed it to be you. Except, the handwriting looked nothing like yours. It was messy and gross. Kindergartener-like. You thanked Ms. Aubrey for bringing it up during your visit. You were let go.

Eventually, the teasing and school shooter rumors turned into notes in lockers. Notes with lines of daring you to kill yourself and condemning you to hell. You never reported them. You didn't bother. You had other things to worry about, anyway. Better things, like the spelling bee. You won the spelling bee in 6th grade. Tyler was the other finalist. It felt really, really good. You smiled at him when you won. He just squinted his eyes at you, trying to intimadate you. But nothing could intimidate a world-class champion, such as yourself.

He didn't start bothering you again until the end of 8th grade. He asked you for pictures. You told him no. He still told everybody you sent them to him anyway. You were deemed "too slutty" for anyone to want to be friends with you after that. That was the consensus all the way up until now. Junior year.

Now you were sitting across from the one person who had made your life a living hell for the past 10 years. You didn't even know why. You've never done anything to him. Did he resent you for something? Or was he just trying to entertain himself with the shy kid with a different sense of style? Maybe it was none of the above.

Thoughts like this crossed your mind as you pretended to read a book. You looked at the clock. It was only 3:45. You looked at Tyler. He was already looking at you. You gave him a weird look and went back to fake reading. He slid you a note.

"why u reading that?" it said.

You quietly opened your pencil pouch so as not to draw attention to the highly punishable note-passing. Mr. Regal enforced rules by the book, and you did not want to spend another day here wasting your time. You could hear a pen drop in that room. Any sort of noise would mean certain death.

"i found it in the library," you wrote back.

Tyler was writing some sort of response until a hand snatched the paper away. You looked up with a hint of fear in your eyes.

"Passing notes?" Mr. Regal exclaimed. "You two know better. Especially as juniors. That's another detention for you both!"

If looks could kill, Mr. Regal would be dead on the floor. You had incredibly important napping plans for tomorrow. Tyler probably had lacrosse practice or something sporty like that. You and Tyler looked at each other, but you quickly went back to pretend reading. It was only 3:50 at that point. Could time go by any slower?

You actually started to find yourself interested in the book you were reading, and you quickly got lost in its world. But that was cut short when Mr. Regal said everyone could go. It was 4:25 by then.

You were walking to your car when you heard a voice call behind you.

"Hey!" it said.

You looked behind you.

Here we go.

"What, Tyler?"

"I just wanted to say that's my favorite book you were reading," he said with a slight smirk.

You rolled your eyes.

"Whatever," you said.

You began to continue your walk to the back of the parking lot. You didn't like to park next to others.

He followed you to your car. You checked your phone and the time read 4:32.

"What?" you said, annoyed.

Your back was to your driver-side door. He put his hands on either side of you.

"I just think it's impressive someone like you could read such profound literature," he said sarcastically.

"Shut the fuck up, Tyler. It's literally your fault we have to go back to detention tomorrow," you said.

"You didn't have to answer back," he said.

"You didn't have to talk to me in the first place," you snapped back.

"I wanted to talk to you," he answered.

"I didn't," you said while crossing your arms.

"I think you're a liar," he whispered.

"I think you should eat a dick, bitch," you said aggressively.

The tension was ever-rising between the two of you. Years and years of hate between you both had finally come to its peak. All the while, he had you pinned beneath him, and you had nowhere to go. Your faces were only inches apart. His eyes locked into yours. After a few seconds, you looked away. You'd die if anyone saw you like that with Tyler of all people. Luckily, no one did. He didn't seem to really care. He sighed and walked away.

You got into your car and went home.

The time was 4:56 when you got to your room.

You took a nap, which you didn't wake up from until 6:45 the next morning.

School went by really fast that day. And when you got to the detention room, luckily it wasn't Mr. Regal. It was the principal, Mr. Khan. He was nice and understanding, but a lot of times, he let things fly under the radar. He seemed to only punish people for small things - like being late and note passing.

Unluckily, it was just you and Tyler that day. He sat across from you again.

this got too long so part 2 will b out soon ♡

[assortedseaglass]

The Seamstress & The Sailor - Chapter Twenty Three

Tom Bennett x Bess Vaughn (OFC)

[Masterlist]

Warnings: Strong Language, Angst, Smut, Violence, Depictions of War, Mentions of Death, Depictions of PTSD, Injury Detail, Era typical Sexism, Era typical Homophobia, Mentions of Sexual Assault, Mentions of Domestic Abuse (very brief), Depictions of Reproductive Health, Suicidal Thoughts, World on Fire Spoilers.

Notes: Been a while, hasn’t it? Here's 7K for ya. I’m writing this for me and the few people that are still engaging with it. If you enjoy it, and you know who guys you are, then I’m happy!

There are probably mistakes, but I'm ill. Soz.

“Morning, pet. Brought you a cuppa. Poor thing,” A soft hand ran over Tom’s forehead, as though testing his temperature, and brushed the hair from his eyes. “You know you’re always welcome here.”

Tom’s head was pounding. Rubbing bleary eyes, he took the tea from the person above him. Perfectly manicured nails, ringlets, red lipstick and the overpowering smell of lavender.

“Cheers, Queenie.”

“Anytime, love. Here,” she draped his threadbare jacket over the bedframe. “Tried to get the mud out as best I could.”

“Mud?”

“Yeah,” Queenie chuckled. “You fell over by the park. Our Frank was worried he’d have to carry you the rest of the way. Listen, I’ve got bacon and eggs on the stove, pop down when you’re dressed.” With small, high-heeled steps, she tottered from the room.

Fuck.

Tom rose tentatively from the bed, his head pounding. When he felt he could stand without vomiting, he made his way to the small wash basin in the corner of the room and caught sight of himself in the old mirror.

If it wasn’t for the pulsing of his head, Tom would have suspected he’d died and was looking at his own ghostly reflection. Purple circles rimmed his usually bright eyes, which were dull and tired. His skin clung to his face- he could do with twelve plates of Queenie’s bacon and eggs by the looks of him -and the shadow of his stubble was darkening his chin. Despite his age, he looked old. As though someone had tried to draw youth after only having it described to them. A thousand lives had been lived behind his eyes, some of them he wouldn’t wish on anyone.

“Breakfast, Tom!” Queenie called up the stairs. Tom splashed his face with water and, looking at his reflection once more, had to fight the urge to spit at it. Pathetic.

Downstairs, Queenie was fussing around the kitchen table at which sat two distinctly different figures. Frank Smith was reading a newspaper, a steaming cup of tea beside him. Upon seeing Tom, he muttered a quiet “good morning”, and hid behind the paper. Opposite him was perhaps the oldest lady Tom had ever seen. Wrapped in moth eaten shawls and gawdy jewellery, she wore a permanent smile, though even from where Tom stood he could see that nothing much was going on behind her eyes.

“Have a seat, Tom.��� Queenie passed him a plate of breakfast. The only seat available was by Frank, and the man shuffled awkwardly as Tom sat beside him, memories of Tom screaming at him in the school corridor swirling in his mind. The old lady opposite looked slowly up at Tom and gave him a gummy smile. She gargled a little.

“Hello, m’am,” Tom nodded his head and went about adding sugar and milk to his tea.

“This is Tom, Nanna.” Queenie bent low and shouted in the woman’s ear. “Tom. Bennett. Poor old thing doesn’t know today from tomorrow but she seems happy enough,” she directed at Tom, who nodded wearily and shovelled eggs into his mouth.

“Beautiful boy,” the old woman said. Her gummy smile was a little off putting but the kindness, even if she said this kind of thing to everyone, was just what Tom needed in his hungover shame. He placed his hand over hers. “Beautiful boy,” she cooed as though looking at a newborn. Tom supposed, compared to her great age, he was.

“She’ll be one hundred and two in March, won’t you Nanna?” Queenie shouted.

“Don’t look a day over twenty-one,” Tom said.

Nanna Warren let out a hearty heh heh and allowed Queenie to spoon porridge into her mouth. They all ate in silence, apart from Nanna Warren’s little murmurs and mutterings, and when they were done, Queenie took their plates to the sink. “Frank, love, take Nanna into the front room.”

Frank set his paper down resignedly and lead the old woman into the hallway. “Beautiful boy, beautiful!” 

“Got plans for the day, Tom?” Queenie turned from the sink and fixed him with a watchful but friendly gaze.

“Find m’self a bed to sleep in and a shower. Reckon I’ve got a few apologies to make an’ all.”

“Mmm,” War had matured Queenie Warren too. She was still girlish and flirtatious, but she seemed to have realised her words had meaning and was making amends for her off-handed comments of old. “Bess is some woman-”

Tom laughed fondly. “Yeah,”

“- I could never put up with you.”

Perhaps not. “I’ll be off Queenie, thanks for letting me stay. Say ta-ra to Frank for me.”

“I won’t, I know you two don’t see eye to eye. Take care of yourself, give Bess a kiss from me.”

Tom shrugged on his jacket, pulled up the collar and made his way into the cold day. Apologies. Where to bloody start.

Each of the Vaughn girls was looking at their father with disgust.

He had come downstairs that morning reeking of ale and grease from the dockyard, sat in his armchair, let out an almighty belch and promptly dozed off. When Cora kicked him and shoved a plate of eggs under his nose, he took them with a scowl and ate in silence.

“Just one more bloody man to worry about,” Bess huffed from the kitchen table.

“Bugger off back to Carver Mills then,” Fergal snapped.

“Don’t you two start,” Cora slammed a fresh loaf of bread onto the table. “I’ve heard enough bloody bickering these last twelve hours to last a lifetime.”

“Watch your language-”

“Be quiet!” All three girls shouted at their father and he fixed them with an annoyed stare.

Breakfast was a solemn affair with Fergal fighting through his hangover, the girls’ lack of sleep and Bess’ additional worry over Tom. In truth, some of it had waned in the hours since she woke up. After hearing Tom’s idea of a woman’s purpose in this world, her worry had dwindled to a mild apprehension. When Dot came in from collecting the milk and told her the Mrs Mason’s eldest had seen Tom entering Queenie Warren’s Cringle Park home late last night, her mild apprehension became a fully borne rage.

Bess liked to think she trusted Tom to stay loyal to her. But something in his astoundingly arrogant display at the Palais gnawed at her confidence.  

“Got any towels, Cora?”

“Dot, for God’s sake, wash your own.”

“Bess?”

“One, in my handbag.”

Dot kissed her sister’s cheek and began rummaging through her bag. “I’ll wash it and give it back.”

“Keep it, I won’t want it back-”

“I don’t need to be hearing about your filthy woman talk-”

“Be quiet!” Each of the girls shouted again at their father. Bess watched as Dot disappeared upstairs. She had been carrying a towel with her everywhere, just in case. She always did of course, in the event of her monthlies, but her monthlies were now three weeks late and she had an appointment with Sister Murphy in a week’s time.

A knock at the front door made each Vaughn jump.

“That’ll be Dennis with the post,” Cora was already rounding the kitchen table, pulling her apron off as she did so. Bess was in no mood to see rat-faced Dennis Warley and the contemptuous looks he saved especially for her and her tailored slacks. She stood from the table, gave Fergal a wide berth and went upstairs to dress.

Stuff Dennis Warley and his shit taste. Bess pulled out a dark dress from the draw she still kept in her sisters’ room, covered it in a dark jumper and pulled on some thick woollen socks. Her hair, still curled from last night, she tied off her face with a scarf, the frizzy strands settling on her shoulders.

Lying back on the bed, she cradled her stomach. It was a little plump, thinner now because of rationing, but still soft and doughy. Bess rubbed circles over it, wondering what it would be like to feel it grow. In her need for him, and his for her, Bess and Tom had been reckless. But surely, it would have happened by now? When he found his way back to her after his months on the run in Europe, she was so certain in her need for him, her love for him, that a sheath didn’t matter. When he had returned this time, so hungry for her after discovering his father gone, hadn’t she welcomed him openly? Given herself over to him completely because that was what he needed? Perhaps this time, she had given too much. She’d seem him with Vera, and Jan, and not worried about the consequences. After last night, however, she was scared.

Downstairs, Cora and Dot’s voices raised in pitch and volume, and Bess looked up at the ceiling. A new crack had formed there. Trust Dennis to say something stupid.

Only it wasn’t Dennis Warley at all. Downstairs, Cora Vaughn was locked in a battle with none other than Tom Bennett.

“I wondered when you’d show up,”

“Cora, I-”

“Roger’s not here, so don’t worry-”

“I’m not worri-”

“You looked worried last night when he dumped you on the pavement.”

“Give over, Cora. Posh knob wouldn’t get his hands dirty. S’why he’s off flying planes and leaving us lot in the muck-”

“Don’t you start on Cora!” Dot pushed past her sister and jabbed a finger into Tom’s chest.

“He tried last night, Dot.”

“Oh he did, did he?” Fergal Vaughn stood from his chair by the hearth and made his slow way to the front door. “Give him a piece of your mind did you, my girl?”

“I did, Dadda.” Cora’s eyes were still set on Tom. Indeed, so were Fergal and Dot’s. “And Dot gave him a smack.”

“Save your energy next time, Dot. You could beat Tom Bennett into next year and he’d still come up with some sorry excuse-”

“Is Bess in?” Tom pinched his nose.

“Care about Bess now?”

“Shut up, Dot.”

Fergal lunged at him. Tom’s arms instinctively reached outwards. The two men stumbled into the cobbled street, each gripping the other’s collar. They grappled for a while, Fergal’s size and Tom’s athleticism preventing either from felling each other.

Hearing the commotion from upstairs, Bess hurried down the narrow stairs and into the street.

“WHAT IS GOING ON?”

The bundle of bodies stopped moving at once. Dot slid off Tom’s back. Fergal dropped his arms from Tom’s collar and Cora stumbled backwards from her attempt to restrain her father.

“Bess, love-”

“Look at yourselves.” Bess folded her arms. “A disgrace to mam’s memory. And Marie’s.” She pointed at Tom. “Get inside. The lot of you.”

Like a troupe of naughty children, Fergal, Cora, Dot and Tom filed into the house. No sooner had Bess slammed the door was she grabbing Tom’s wrist and pulling him into the yard. “I’ll deal with you lot later,” she said to her family, each stood sheepishly in the kitchen.

The autumn air was crisp outside. Dadda’s chickens were scraping at the earth and scurried forward when Bess turned over a bucket to perch upon. Seeing she had nothing to give them, they went about their business.

Tom watched Bess as she lit a cigarette and stared ahead. God, she was gorgeous. Sat there in the morning light, hair aflame, all haughty and tight-lipped. She was just as he always imagined her. When she turned her head ever so minutely to look at him from the corner of her, he winked.

“Don’t flirt with me.”

Tom raised his chin and straightened his back. He knew Bess loved his neck, and from her low position she would be able to see the perfect angle of his jaw. “It’s working then.”

By way of a reply, Bess blew smoke into his face. With a small smile, Tom crouched before her and took her empty hand in his.

“I’m sorry,”

Bess watched him, taking another drag of her cigarette.

“I-,oh fuck,” Tom stood up again and paced the small yard. Apologies. How the fuck do you apologise? Not as a way to wriggle out of trouble, but to truly make amends? Before he could start, Bess spoke first.

“I heard you and Dadda had a little chat.”

“Yeah-”

“And then you insulted Bobby. And my suit,”

“You looked gorgeous-”

Bess hmphed. “Then you made a scene-”

“Dot smacked me!”

“Not hard enough!” They glared at each other. “And after that, you had the bare-faced cheek to insult Cora and Roger. On their special night!”

“I know,” Tom deflated visibly in front of her and Bess’ heart melted a little. A little. “I’m sorry, I really am.”

“What for?”

Christ, Bess was breaking his balls. He sighed. “For fighting with your father, for ruining Cora’s night and for the awful things I said to you and Bobby.”

“And?”

“And what?” He was getting annoyed now.

“Didn’t think you liked Frank Smith.”

“I don’t. He’s a prick.”

“But you spent the rest of last night with him? Was Walter Watson there too? Bragging about how you got into my knickers? Or planning how the three of you could next embarrass me, as a joint effort?”

“No,”

“Anything else to add?”

“No?”

“Then think.”

Tom looked up, wracking his brains. Cora, Dot and Fergal were peering out of the window, transfixed by the goings on in the yard. Cora and Dot hastily withdrew from the window. Fergal continued to stare at Tom and Bess.

“Erm-”

“Where did you stay, last night? Only, I said you could come to ours but-” She let the sentence trail off.

Fuck.

Bess’ eyes had turned dark. She leant forward on her knees and casually flicked the ash from her cigarette. She was waiting. Had thrown down her gauntlet. The challenge? Daring Tom to make up an excuse, as he always did. Well, enough people had tried to outsmart him before. There was a reason he was so good at stealing car parts and had managed to wrangle his way out of jail. It wasn’t this, though, that made his blood boil. No, it was Bess’ lack of trust.

“Stayed at Queenie’s.” It was blunt. Tom wanted to embarrass her for trying to trip him up. It didn’t work.

“She finally got you in her bed then.”

“Yes, she did.” At Tom’s words, Bess blanched. A few tears pin-pricked her eyes and she looked like a child. Tom softened immediately. “She slept in the other room, with Frank. They’re courting, remember?”

“Yes.”

“Or had you conveniently forgotten so you could have a reason to be angry at me?”

“You managed that yourself.”

Silence.

Once more, Tom crouched in front of Bess. She had nowhere to look but at his sandy hair, that silly old jacket, those extraordinarily blue eyes. “I know I behaved like a fucking prick, but I’d never do that.” It was too horrible an idea to even voice. “Please, please, of all people, please trust me.”

Bess looked at him. The little crease between his brows. The world-weary, tired eyes. His lips, pursed with tension. She reached out and stroked his cheek. From the window, a small squeal sounded. Dot.

“I do. God help me, I do.”

The door opened abruptly. There was Cora, a crying Vera in her arms. She shoved the baby at Tom. “Make yourself useful.”

Tom scooped his niece into his arms, confusion evident on his face. “Why do you have her?” He began bobbing on the spot to soothe the crying babe and Bess felt he stomach clench. Her stomach, and something farther south.

“You haven’t told him?” Cora scowled at Bess and Tom looked between the sisters. As though she could sense him doing this, Bess turned from her sister to Tom.

“It’s fine,” she stood up and approached Tom and Vera, running a soothing hand over the baby’s brow. “She’s fine, Connie popped over with the baby this morning.” She took Tom’s hand. “Lois was injured in last night’s raid.”

“Oh fuck,” Tom’s legs wobbled and Bess made to cradled Vera. He found his footing, but fear was etched across his face. Day by day, his family was growing smaller.

“She’s ok, Tom, she’s ok. Hit her head but she’s at home. Well,” Bess swallowed awkwardly. Where was the Bennett home now? “She’s at Connie’s.”

“You best get over there, boy.”

“Cora,” Bess said warningly. With folded arms and a small tut, Cora turned on her heel and stalked back into the house. Bess rapped a knuckle on the window. Dot and Fergal hurried away from the glass.

“Take Vera,” Bess gripped Tom’s jacket and pulled it around the wee thing. “Go and see Lois and maybe, if I’m not still angry at you, I’ll see you at the flat?”

Tom looked down his nose at her, taking a step closer. Vera, nestled between the two, settled and was content to make small gurgles as she watched two of the people she loved most above her.

“You won’t be angry for long,” Tom’s lips were dangerously close to Bess’. Thank God Fergal wasn’t still at the window.

“Is that so?” Bess whispered, bringing her face close to his. Thank God the baby was between them. From here she could smell yesterday’s cologne, the slightest whiff of lager and his Marlboro’s. It was intoxicating. Damn Tom Bennett.

“I’ve seen the way you look at me, Bess Vaughn.” Tom gripped the front of Bess’ jumper and pulled her close. “The way you’ve always looked at me.”

Both were remembering the day Bess returned from the central Manchester, clad in white and turning heads everywhere she walked. Remembering the way she watched Tom as he stretched to fetch her a glass of wine.

Just as Tom made to kiss Bess’ plump lips, she pulled away. “I need to go. Meeting Kasia at Southport.”

Tom looked at her with mock bemusement. “Southport? This time of year?”

“Aye,” Bess kissed Vera’s mop of soft hair and straightened. “She needs a friend and I’ve decided to be that friend. It’s nice, she tells me all about how disappointing Harry is-” she looked Tom squarely in the eye. “- and I do the same about you.”

“Nothing disappointing about me, love.” Again, he winked and Bess felt herself blush.

“Get away with you. Go to Lois.”

“Yes, captain.” With Vera tucked against his chest, Tom made his way to the gate into the ginnel. He saluted to Dot and Cora, who were once more watching from the kitchen, and opened the latch. A small hand wrapped around his wrist, and before he could fully turn around, Bess’ warm lips met is.

“I love you.”

“I know,” she smacked his arm. “I love you.”

Bess closed the gate behind him and listened as made his way down the ginnel, cooing to Vera all the way. When she turned around, the back-room curtain rustled. No doubt Cora and Dot would have plenty to say.

Vera was asleep by the time Tom made it to Connie’s small flat. He knocked on the door and was welcomed by the one-legged young man he had met just a few days before.

“She yours?” He used his walking stick to point at Vera.

“No. She’s Lois’. From upstairs?”

“Oh right. Yeah. Heard your sister took a knock in the raid last night.”

“Yeah, that’s why I’m here.”

“Lucky really. Or unlucky, depending on how you look at it.”

“Unlucky, how?” Tom’s anger prickled.

“You’re in the war, mate. Don’t tell me you haven’t seen men blown to pieces somehow still clinging on to life-” He knocked is fake leg with his cane. “Better sometimes that the war finish us off, rather than making us linger in this living hell.”

“Can I see Lois, mate?”

The strange man shuffled aside and, cradling Vera close to his chest, Tom ran up the stairs to Connie’s flat two steps at a time. The door was open when he got there. Connie sat at the small table, making notes on some sheet music. She looked up at hearing the floorboards creak as Tom approached, and silently waved him in.

“She’s in my room,” she whispered. “Been sleeping most of the day but I heard her get up not long ago.”

“Cheers, Con,” Tom made towards the bedroom door but Connie stepped in front of him.

“Give Vera here,” she held out her hands and Tom tentatively let his niece go.

“Won’t Lois won’t to-”

“Best if it’s just you, I think, love. Will be alright, won’t we?” Connie cooed at Vera as she babbled happily.

The small room that Lois shared with Connie was dark. The dirty curtains were drawn and piles of baby clothes littered the cupboard. Fresh and folded, but left out of the drawer. The bed creaked and from beneath the tattered blanket, Tom’s sister appeared.

Her head was wrapped in a large bandage, the kind that Tom would give her when they played hospital as children. Her curly hair poked awkwardly from the bottom and did little to hide the black bruises beneath her eyes.

“What the fuck happened?” Tom perched on the end of the bed.

“You got any cigarettes?” Her voice was hoarse.

“Always,” he grabbed the packet from his trousers, lit one and passed it to his sister. “Since when do you smoke?”

“Since this morning.” Lois coughed through the smoke and relaxed against the iron headboard.

“So,” Tom nudged her leg gently but spoke firmly. Despite their argument, he was still her brother. “What happened?”

“Was getting an old fella from a house last night, it had been hit in the raids.” She shuffled uncomfortably. “And yeah, the ceiling came down on my head.”

“Only ‘cause you went back in to get his bloody teeth!” Connie walked past the door with Vera on her lap.

“Dad’s spirit is living on then,” Tom whispered under his breath.

“Oh for God’s sake, Tom!” Lois tried to get up from the bed but Tom was still sat on the covers. “I’m really not in the mood to be shouted at about dad. Again-”

Tom swore under his breath. “Lois! I know you think I’m a wind up but I meant it as a fucking compliment. Going back in to make sure that old lad was comfortable is exactly what Dad would have done.”

They sat there awkwardly for a moment and watched the cigarette dwindle into nothingness. When it was done, Lois covered Tom’s hand with hers.

“Thanks for coming,” she whispered quietly.

“I’d be a twat not to. Wish you’d called.”

“Where would I call?”

Tom huffed a sad laugh. There was no happiness to it at all. “The Vaughns?”

“From what I hear, you’re not very popular in their house.”

“Jesus Christ,”

“Connie told me after she dropped Vera off this morning.”

“I’ve already been round. Apologised.”

“Ooh, I suddenly got a chill,” Lois huddled under the covers. “It seems hell has frozen over.” Tom smacked her leg. “Don’t hurt me, I’m ill!”

“Doesn’t count when it’s self-induced.”

“How did it go? Your apology? Charm your way out through the back door?”

“I see you’ve still got no faith in me,”

It was Lois that nudged Tom this time. “Don’t be daft.” Tom didn’t reply, simply stared at the watch on his wrist. The battery had stopped, its hands pointing to 6.04. “Be more like dad.”

“You what?” Tom glanced at her. She looked ridiculous with that enormous bandage wrapped round her head, and in his eyes she seemed just as tired as he was, but her annoying I-know-something-you-don’t attitude remained.

“Actions, not words. That’s the best way to say sorry. To really say sorry. Something Harry could never manage…” Lois’ voiced trailed off but, when Tom laughed, she looked at him sharply.

“Bess is off to see Kasia this afternoon. Said something about slagging me an’ Harry off.”

“I could give them some fodder!”

Tom laughed, without bitterness, for what felt like the first time in years. “You should join them.”

“Can’t,” Lois sighed resignedly and looked around the tatty room. “Too much to do.” Dirty napkins and baby toys were scattered around the place. The laundry basket was overflowing. A plate of half-eaten toast was forgotten by the bed. With hands on his knees and head bent, Tom pushed himself from the bed and began sorting the clothes.

“What you doing?” Lois was standing now, wrapping herself in a dressing gown and making her way towards the small room where Connie was singing to Vera.

Tom looked over his shoulder at his sister and winked. “Actions, not words.”

An old gentleman and the woman tucked into his side scowled at Kasia and Bess as they ran past.

The young women’s shrieks took flight in the sky and carried across the flat beach. The tide was way out, a few algaed rocks just showing beneath the lapping waves. In the miniature tidal pools, Bess and Kasia stomped, kicked salty water at each other and ran away from the waves. It had been so long since Bess felt this carefree. For Kasia, even longer.

“Robina will kill me,” Kasia gasped between giggles as she wiped sand from her grey skirt.

“The sooner I get those trousers finished the better.” Bess huffed as she slung her arm around Kasia’s neck, and together they walked the long stretch back up the beach. In the distance, the old couple kept glancing back at them as they made their way to the promenade. Ahead of them, a solitary figure was making its way towards the water. Probably one of the clam fishers, thought Bess.

“Do you know,” Kasia said, looping her arm through Bess’. “I don’t think I ever saw Harry laugh like that. Not really.”

“Me neither. Saw him grin once when his private school lads beat the St Thomas’ team at cricket.”

Kasia exaggerated a frown and pouted her lips. “So. Serious.”

Bess laughed. “Our Tom doesn’t have a serious bone in his body. Perhaps we should swap!”

At this, Kasia fell about. “Poor Vera wouldn’t know who is who.” The pair cackled and cackled until Bess could do naught but gulp for air.

“I like to think Tom’s changed,” Bess laughed. “But I know he’d swap with Harry just to wind up Mrs Chase.”

“Brought you girls some dinner.” Over Kasia’s renewed giggles, Bess almost missed the voice behind her. She span around quickly and lost her footing in the wet sand. As quickly as she did, Tom heaved the paper bundles under one arm and gripped Bess’ with his free hand.

He’d washed since Bess saw him that morning, though he was still pale and tired looking. Over the top of his blue jacket, he wore a woollen coat of Albie’s, and Bess smiled sadly as she ran her hand over the lapels.

“Thanks, love.” She kissed his cheek. Behind her, Kasia was tucking her hair behind her ears and smoothing her clothes.

“Alright, Kasia?” Tom nodded at her and held out one of the paper bundles. As it passed Bess, she caught the delicious whiff of vinegar. Fish and chips.

“Yes, thank you.” Kasia smiled and took the food from him.

“Bess.” Tom handed his girlfriend her portion before turning back to Kasia and clearing his throat. “How are your brothers?” Bess saw him puff out his chest, an attempt at nonchalance. His eyes were worried though, downcast, as he tucked into his chips.

“They’re well, thank you. Jan is missing his play friend though.”

Tom smiled. “Well, anytime he wants to play footie just let us know.” He faltered and Bess held on gently to the sleeve of Albie’s coat, to remind him she was there. “And Grzegorz?”

“He’s managing. Vernon and Roger got him a job at the RAF base.”

“Was a good man, Vernon.” Tom said, and the three fell into a solemn silence, punctuated by the call of gulls and rustling of newspaper.

When they had each finished their food, Kasia collected the scraps and bid goodbye to Bess with a kiss on the cheek. “I’ll see you soon?”

“Stay a while longer, there’s no need to leave ‘cause of Tom.”

“That’s alright,” Kasia smiled at Tom, who looked a little stung. “It’s a lovely evening. You two enjoy your walk.”

Not leaving Bess to reply, Kasia left for the promenade. Tom made for the other direction, towards the sea. Bess watched Kasia go before trotting after Tom. His hands were tucked into his pockets and she looped her arm through his. He let go, instead bringing his arm about her shoulders so that she was tucked into his side.

He smelled of cigarettes and that laundry detergent that always reminded Bess of Douglas. There was something of Albie too that lingered on the coat. That cheap cologne he used to wear when they went out dancing. Bess chuckled and Tom looked down at her.

“Thinking of Albie,” she said simply. “And your dad.”

“Mmm,” Tom pushed Bess near the waves as they approached the water and she shrieked. He laughed and grabbed her around the waist. “Had to do it. ‘S what Albie would have done if he was here.”

“Yeah. Remember all the family trips we used to have down here when mam and dad wanted to wear us down?”

Tom rested his head atop Bess’ and they watched the water turn orange as the sun lowered behind them. They didn’t talk awhile, content in each other’s company and thinking of the past, but something in Tom silence told Bess he wasn’t happy. He was almost rigid behind her, his usual relaxed swagger gone. Tentatively, she inquired about the afternoon.

“How’s Lois?”

Tom almost jumped at her voice. “Fine, yeah, fine. Was rescuing some old man’s teeth when the house came down.”

“Douglas’ll never be gone.”

“That’s what I said.” He said nothing else.

Bess turned in his arms and looked up at him. “Where are you, mister?” She ran a hand through his hair. It needed a cut before he went back, surely it was too long for navy regulations now.

“What do you mean?”

“What are you thinking about?” He finally took his eyes off the ocean and looked down at her. Bess shivered. His eyes were stony and distant. The wind ruffled his hair and for a moment he looked like Gary Cooper or Spencer Tracy. “You’re so handsome.”

Tom ignored her. “’I’d like to think Tom’s changed.’”

Bess’ cheeks prickled with embarrassment. “Pardon?”

“’I’d like to think Tom’s changed, but I know he’d swap with Harry just to wind up Mrs Chase.’” He quoted again.

“We were only mucking around-”

“I know you said you and Kasia would have a giggle at me an’ Harry’s expense,” Tom was looking back at the water and not Bess. “But I thought at least you’d have a higher opinion of me.”

Bess’ lip trembled and she ran her hand through Tom’s hair again. “You know I think the world of you-”

“I saw the way you looked at me last night. The way your father looked at me. You all still think I’m exactly the same as before, don’t you? Just a petty criminal with nothing to give.”

“Where the hell has this come from?” Bess sadness was making way for anger now.

“Bess, I’ve come back to find my dad dead, my home gone and what do I get? Bloody,” he waved his hands angrily, struggling for the word. “judgement and dirty looks.”

“No-one’s judging you-”

“’I’d like to think Tom’s changed’,” Tom began to quote Bess once more but she cut him off.

“Well, I’d like to think you have changed but your behaviour last night proves my point. Getting drunk, fighting, staying at Queenie’s-”

“Jesus Christ. NOTHING HAPPENED!”

They stared at each other.

“Why do we keep arguing?” Bess said sadly.

Tom kicked a shell and made his slow way along the tide line. “I don’t know,” he sighed, rubbing his face.

Walking beside him, Bess thought that, in truth, she did know. They were opposites. Where her grief was quiet and slow-burning, Tom’s was sudden and raging and, as it shrouded them both, neither knew how to help the other.

“Did you and Lois chat much about your dad?” She didn’t know what else to say, and maybe talking of Douglas would ease Tom’s grief.

“Not really.” Never mind.

“Please Tom,” Bess clutched his arm stopped him in his tracks. “You can’t just shut down and never talk about it.”

“It’s what you would do.”

She stared at him. Fine. If he wanted to be difficult, she could do it too. “You’re not the only one who misses him, Tom. He was my friend-”

“He was my dad!” Tom bellowed. “I suppose you wouldn’t have minded a swap with him either. Harry, my dad, anyone’s better than me-”

“Oh stop being so fucking put down upon. You’re using this as some stupid excuse not to confront your grief. The war. If you don’t want to talk to me about it, fine, I can’t know what it’s like out there. But I’ve lost people too, and, and-” Bess stomped her foot like a child. “And I love you. I want to help.”

“How could you possibly help?” Tom sounded resigned rather than angry, but nonetheless, it felt as though he had struck her.

“I-I-I’m trying to do my bit, for you. For the war effo-”

“Patching up cuts and scratches? Fixing holes in soldiers’ socks?”

“I was under the impression,” Bess snapped and wiped a tear from her face. “That that is exactly what you think I should be doing.”

Tom shook his head. Actually shook his head in confusion. “What the hell do you mean, woman?”

“Woman! Exactly! Heard all about your argument with Lois,”

“Fucking Dot-”

“Yes. Dot. Connie told her that you blamed her for your dad’s death-”

“I apologised-”

“-that her job was being at home looking after him and the baby. Is that what you think? That that’s all we’re good for?” “This is all you’re good for, Bess Vaughn.” “You know that’s what Walter Watson said to me? That night? Do you agree with him?”

“No-” Tom took a step forward but Bess stepped back.

“Well?”

“WELL WHAT?”

Bess held her stomach. Tom didn’t notice. “Do you think our role s just that? Give you children and then while away our lives at home, mothering you all?”

“It’d be a damn sight more peaceful than whatever the fuck this is!”

Neither of them was listening to the other, just shouting over the top of whatever they had said last.

“Cos you know, you’ve barely said one word to me that isn’t “bend over” or “come here” since you got back-”

“Now I know why no-one would come near you-”

Bess stopped shouting. So did Tom.

“Fuck you.” Bess turned on her heel and marched towards the promenade.

“Where are you going?” With his long legs, it was easy for Tom to catch up, even if he was so tired.

“Home.” Tom still walked beside her and she found his very presence so close angered her. “Go away.”  

“Unfortunately for you, love, we live in the same place.”

They walked in stony silence towards the run-down bus stop, Tom a few steps behind to give Bess space. They perched at opposite ends of the bench and, when the bus arrived, were dismayed to see it full. Squeezed together on the leather seats as the bus rattled back to Manchester, Bess stared out of the window. Tom did too, glancing down occasionally to look at her. The exposed line of her neck. Her lips set into an angry pout. The place at which their shoulders touched burned and he wanted nothing more than to be even closer to her. He leant his head down, and light as baby’s breath, kissed her below her ear.

The skin of Bess’ neck rippled with goosebumps and Tom smiled a satisfied smile. When she turned her head to him, she didn’t meet his eyes, nor speak. She simply brushed her nose against his cheek, her lips grazing the morning’s stubble, and turned back to the window. It was as if to say, I’m still angry at you, but I love you, and at that very moment in time, that was enough for Tom.

The sun had set by the time the bus rumbled into Manchester. Air-raid wardens were already out on shift, their small torches replacing the streetlamps that would give the city away to enemy airplanes.

Bess made in the direction of Carver Mills when she stepped off the bus, but faltered when she realised Tom wasn’t beside her. Instead, he was stood at the bus stop, hands in his pockets.

“Gonna check on Lois. And the baby,” he said, answering her questioning gaze.

“And then?” Bess didn’t need to elaborate. They both knew she was alluding to his new found homelessness. Tom shrugged. “Dadda will still have you. You’re a bloody pair, the both of you, but he won’t have you on the street. And if,” she took a step closer and pulled Tom’s coat lapels around his neck to keep him warm. “-if Dadda won’t have you, I suppose I’ll have to.” She stretched up to peck his lips.

“Yes, captain.”

BANG

Bess shot up in bed and flicked on the lamp. A pair of study nurse’s shoes were forever positioned by her bed, and a jumper and coat were slung over the bedframe in case of this very moment. The bombs.

“Shit, fuck, I’m sorry.” Tom was stumbling through Bess’ bedroom window, his back leg caught on the frame. “Forgot about the blackouts.” He hastily replaced them in the window with a lopsided grin. No sooner were they in place was he peeling off his jumper and slacks.

Bess rubbed her eyes. Despite her sleep-filled haze and her lingering annoyance at the man before her, she could still appreciate the lean muscle of his pale torso that had only strengthened in his days in the navy. A light sheen of sweat clung to his smattering of chest hair, and his breath was laboured.

“Did you-” Bess budged up in the bed so that he could climb in beside her. “Did you climb up the building?”

“Why so shocked-” Tom nestled beside her.

“Your feet are freezing,”

“Used to climb through your bedroom window all the time,”

“Yes, but it wasn’t on the fifth floor.”

“Ah,” Tom said nonchalantly, leaning back against the bedframe. “Anything for you love, and a place to lay my head.”

Bess hmphed but curled her body against Tom’s. One large hand came to her waist and rubbed lazy circles there. It was a while before either of them spoke. It was in these moments over the last year that both Bess and Tom had learnt to enjoy their simplicity. Tom may not return from his next posting. A bomb could land on the roof at any moment. To lay there, with someone you loved so completely, really was the simplest and most divine miracle.

“’M off to the docks tomorrow,” Tom whispered into Bess’ hair. “To collect my papers.”

“So soon?” Bess pushed herself to sit and face him, her voice wobbling as it betrayed her worry.

“I can’t stay,” Tom pulled her back to his chest. “As much as I want hide here with you. You said it earlier, I need to stop running from everyone. From everything.” He rubbed his eyes and sighed. From her bedside table, Bess pulled a packet of cigarettes and lit one, placing it between Tom’s lips when she’d taken her first drag. Tom winked at her. “’S like sitting on the front step again.” He paused. “No. I think the only way for me to work out what I’m doing, who I am, is to get back out there. The open sea, the purpose. You an’ dad were right. The navy is the making of me.”

“Take me with you,” Bess gripped his small waist all the tighter and buried her face in his chest.

“No chance. Not letting you loose with a load of sailors.”

“I can look after myself-”

“Exactly. It’s them I worry about.” Tom pinched Bess’ plump hips and she squealed. The sound, so unlike any Bess would ever usually make delighted Tom, and he did it again, tickling every bare patch of skin he could reach until Bess was on her back, writhing to get away from him as he penned her in with his arms.

She was panting when he finished, and her giggles took a while to subside. Red blotched her cheeks and her dark eyes were bright with laughter. The mess of her hair was unrulier than ever, tangled on the pillow. Below his hips, her nightdress had ridden up her thighs, the curve of her breasts just visible through the thin fabric.

Tom shut his eyes, committing her image to memory. “I’m sorry about earlier. About everything,” he whispered.

“I know,” Bess ran a hand through his hair and he stooped to kiss her.

“I’m sorry,” he kissed the juncture of her neck. “I’m sorry,” Nipped at the underside of her jaw. “I’m sorry,” his tongue ran languidly over her lips. A throaty moan left Bess and Tom lowered his hips between the spread of her legs. “I’m sorry,” he kissed his way over her chest. “I’m sorry,” lightly bit each pert nipple through the fabric.

“Tom, please-”

“I love you,” Tom kissed her stomach.

A jolt of fear gripped her. What if? “Tom, please-” It was said with hesitation then, but it died in her throat when his head dipped lower. Warm hands slid around the underside of her thighs and gripped her hips.

“I’m sorry,” his warm breath fanned across her core. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, voice muted as he brought his mouth to her centre. “I’m sorry.”

Notes: I’m sorry it’s been ages. Life, ya know? This will have a happy ending!!

Tags: @aemonds-wifey @multiple-fandoms-girl @jessssica1234 @babyblue711 @heimtathurs @exitpursuedbyavulcan @myfandomprompts @allthefandomtherapy @reblogedworks @valerie977 @bookwyrmsblog @phantomontheinternet @chainsawsangel @greenowlfactif @thelittleswanao3 @yentroucnagol @beiigegalx @adragonprinceswhore @notasockpuppetaccount @houseofdupree @marysucks-blog @chattylurker @vhagar-balerion-meraxes @nolongereviliwantlove @just-emmaaaa @mefools @aquakaris @its-actually-minicika @whoknows333 @arcielee @honeymaltgelato @girlwith-thepearlearring @fangirlninja67 @evita-shelby @cherievictoria @schmexie @ewanmitchellcrumbs @blairfox04 @theoneeyedprince @targaryenrealnessdarling @cherievictore

[swxrxgini]

Childhood friends to lovers troupe with Aditya is living in my head rent free, perhaps, you could offer some hcs for it please 🥹

Brain empty, only Aditya

| : Aamras and friends

Receiver.... Author's note: "Dear, Thank you so much for requesting this!! I loved it so much and it's honestly so damn cute!!"

Receiver.... Synopsis: "Aditya and you, friends since young, fall in love. HCs about being childhood friends and falling in love with Aditya Kashyap!!"

Receiver.... Warnings: "nothing really? Fluff, childhood shenanigans? Might not be correct to the movie cause I watched it very long ago, forgive my mistakes!! Geet and Aditya are only friends here! Mentions of Maths. Mentions of suicide, Geet gets with your brother (i made him up)"

◊ Oh my god!! Imagine you and Aditya as friends and sitting in the sun eating raw mangoes?? So cute! You both probably met due to your parents being friends or you both were close in school and you got your parents to be friends as well! Or maybe you were neighbors who went to same school?

◊ You and him grew up so close, slacking off in computer lab as you both watched stupid shit, passing notes in class, trying to help each other memorize the multiplication table up until 30, then memorize square and square roots until 30 and cube and the cube roots until 25. You both got close thanks to torturing Maths.

◊ But that was until the marriage affair of his parents, where he took the deal a bit too hard to his heart. And then his father's death happened after you both grew up, his business going in the dumps.

◊ After the years, he slowly started to become more and more reclusive and depressed, contemplating. One day while after a meeting, you both meet up, but he seemed out of it and you both climbed a train despite the reluctance, meeting a very bubbly girl, Geet Dhillon. You three talked a bit, and you and Geet managed to shake him out of his suicidal thoughts.

◊ In the middle of the night, Aditya gets off, ans you follow him, since you felt weird leaving the boy alone, Geet followed you both asking you both to get on the train, but she herself missed the train...She gets Aditya and you to drive her to the next station, but ends up missing it again...

◊ Geet then demanded to have you both take her home and you both agreed. You grinned as you and her quickly bonded, but Aditya took a bit of time, but it was fine since they became friends. two girlies with a boy tired of the girlies's bullshit. :)

◊ She opened up to you both about her boyfriend whom she wanted to marry, but couldn't because of her parents and the religious differences. While Aditya spoke of how his then girlfriend (whom you were a bit suspicious of) left him to marry someone else, and you hummed nodding how you broke up with your toxic ex boyfriend who was mentally ruining you.

◊ You and Geet were basically besties at that point, with Aditya being both of your guardians probably. You and her tried your best to bring Aditya back to his old fun self, with the power of self-love, friendship and what not.

◊ You, Geet and Aditya became a trio for a while, doing stupid shit together while Aditya simply tried to stop you both from getting in trouble, you three got close. Geet but noticed the chemistry between you two, the longing stare of yours towards him and him staring at you as if you were diamond and gold.

◊ She actually helped Aditya ask you out, asking you if you wanted to go to a restaurant, bu bailed last minute, not only that it's her Aditya goes to for dating advice. You three were closest and it became the friendship of "third wheeling friend becomes baby of the couple in the group", so there's that.

◊ She even tells you both about her plans to run away to be with Anshuman, because she was upset she wasn't gonna be able to marry him.

◊ Her relatives were very happy, you brought her back and had you both stay. And then while they were planning her marriage date, she came to you both, telling you both that she was eloping and was bidding farewell to you two, you both argued with her for a while, before you three were caught mid act by her sister and had to eventually run away..

◊ As she convinced you both to run away with her leaving her family, leaving her family with the idea of Geet being attracted to both boys and girls which was slightly embarrassing for both of you. You both and her had to eventually part ways since she wanted to leave to her boyfriend in Manali, Himachal Pradesh..

◊ You and him let her go her way to her so called boyfriend while you both also became slightly distanced, but stayed close nonetheless. You helped him take breaks, though rarely, you both spent time out in restaurants, mostly spending time at street food vendours or chowpatis.

◊ He started to be less depressed and more the same Aditya you knew before as a child, all the more while you both fell in love, you both missed Geet but didn't get into any type of contact with her afterwards.

◊ He would happily take you shopping whenever you want, whenever you wanted, he was always happy to spoil with his business growing good. He definitely took some lessons from you and Geet aabout sunshine and bright outlook on life which helped him a bit.

◊ Thought a bit reluctant, as you encouraged him, he also bonded with his mother who eloped with another man in the affair or something. It was awkward, but fine, whatever Aditya wanted, you were fine with it.

◊ You and him would often go to shops to drink aamras, mango joosh. Because it's a delicacy and why not? And also childhood snacks, it's so great!!

◊ Around nine months later, Geet's family saw an ad on Adtiya's business launch event and they confronted you both in his office while you were there, demanding you both bring Geet back because she never came home and gave you both two days..

◊ You and Aditya eventually went back to Manali to learn that Geet did come there to meet her boyfriend, but Anshuman rejected her because he didn't want to marry her, you had to be held back a bit before you punched the dude..

◊ You and Aditya trace her back to Shimla and go there to look for Geet, finding her live a reclusive life, working as a teacher in her old school, you were a bit disappointed, but you and Aditya tried to help her receive the sunshine outlook on life yet again.

◊ But Anshuman wanted to start a new, while uncertain of him, you four head back to Bathinda back. Her family was still under the impression she eloped with you and Aditya and it was very weird and awkward for a bit, while Geet tried to explain her side, but was unable to do so. You felt bad and tried to get her to talk to Anshuman tomorrow morning, while Aditya and you laid in bed together, explaining how you both were leaving the next day as you nodded.

◊ As you and Aditya were leaving tomorrow while Geet talked, she didn't want to be with Anshuman longer and ran and followed you both, cause she seemed happier with you two beside her as friends, leaving Anshuman behind heartbroken while Aditya tried to stop you shove a middle finger up his face and kick or punch him for hurting such a sweet girl as Geet.

◊ Overall, very cute relationship but you share your life experiences with Geet as well as she teases you both, visiting with her husband and your brother to your two daughters, telling them about experiences, all while you and Aditya tried not to cringe out of embarrassment at the embarrassing things she told your girls.. <333

© This writing work belongs to me, swxrxgini, Aurelia, Rosilabeth, Cerine, kiara. Reblogging is appreciated, but plagiarizing or copying my works is forbidden, thank you for reading this and if you like this check out my blog!

[44-moved-44]

So I thought of a new CCCC idea, based on my Lost at Sea canon (where Heart and Mind look mostly canon-accurate, live on an isolated "mindscape" island, Soul is a depressed, emotionally distant parental-esque figure, etc.)

Basically, here's the general summary (WARNING FOR: suicide/overdosage, mild NSFW, child abuse, brief mention of pregnancy + child birth, brief CPS mention, alcohol, birth deficiencies, and drugs):

There's this dude named Cyrus. An Australian immigrant to New York that lives alone in an apartment paid partially by his parents and partially by whatever money he can get his hands on; primarily through music commissions or random work around the neighbourhood, such as repairing a smoke alarm or some yard work.

Cyrus is very lonely, and very depressed. The only company he has in his life is his pet pigeon, the various cityfolk whom have grown used to his company, the occasional phone call from one of his parents, and one woman who didn't leave him, at least not yet, Cyrus seems to think.

Cyrus was rarely in his apartment for longer than a few days at a time. He lived for the thrill of going on small adventures around the city; waking up on the couch of someone's apartment, arguing with a taxi driver about the justification of raising the local bagel shop's bagel prices, witness the oncoming divorce of the couple running the couple's hair salon… it was the only thing that brought his life meaning.

Cyrus slept around a lot. It was one of the only things that could bring that false sense of companionship to him. He ended up having a night with a woman, believing it to be the end of that until around five years later Cyrus gets a call that the woman had gotten pregnant, many years back, and give birth to two twins; both of which were now in the middle of a custody dispute after their mother was arrested for hard drugs.

Cyrus wasn't a terrible man. He understood these two kids almost definitely went into this world roughly, being born either in the back of an Uber or a basement, and he wasn't about to have them end up in foster care after how blatantly obvious it was that their life was bad already.

He didn't know what to call the two as they had no official birth certificates; he just tended to call them "[thing one]" and "(thing two)" to humour them, but they didn't seem like very giggly kids. Mostly shy, reserved, didn't even smirk at the same things most kids would cackle at.

They called his pigeon a "([city chicken])" and called his guitar a "([sound broom])", so he could only figure how sheltered they must've been. They flinched at the sound of a pill bottle rattling and snapped their head in the direction of a can opening. Poor things.

Cyrus wasn't the best father himself. Most of the time, he'd leave them to their whims, often times leaving the apartment for lengthy periods with a note saying where the food was, how to use the microwave, what channels they were allowed on the television, his laptop's password if they wanted to play on it, etc. He wasn't very responsible and absolutely emotionally distant, but he still made a vague attempt. A marvel CPS was never called, in the short time they went to school. The kids were more like young friends to him than actual children of his own.

Well, all… mediocre things must come to an end. Remember that woman I mentioned earlier? Well, Cyrus and her had been getting along great. They saw a few concerts, shared a few coffees, cuddled a bit under the stars… She got along well with the pigeon, and the kids, he thought she might be the patch to the hole in his soul.

Cyrus had wanted to confess; deeply, deeply badly. But he feared rejection, even deeper. He didn't want to mess this up; he'd confessed before and ruined everything. He can't ruin this also.

Then, he got news the next day. Tearful words from her mother saying gooey pills lined her cheek after she took her own life; she felt unloved, lonely, like she had no connections to make a life out of.

Cyrus… broke.

Bad.

His consciousness was essentially shattered; and to reshapen, it needed bits of himself to work off of.

It bled into a fabric of reality and created the Mindscape; a secondary, small world higher than the Sun where his sleeping soul would lie in when his waking body wouldn't wake.

It took the closest things to him, the remaining genetics he had left, you know. The kids. And repurposed their souls in attempt to rebuild itself; converting them into two, very important niches.

The Logical Side. The Thoughts, the Reason.

And the Emotional Side. The Love, the Hate.

They were now designated the Heart, the Mind, and the Soul.

Parts of their identity still remained; Heart had retained his physical weakness and disability, of which his mother's substance abuse during his development prompting his muscles to be underdeveloped, as well as taking on an "(angelic)" form from his mother's name for him, Angelica ("Angel", for short.). Mind had grown a dependency on a voice modulator to speak, of which he posed a similar issue in his previous form due to being choked by his mother repeatedly and thus having a weak, hushed voice; his form as a robot stems from his name as a human, Bishop. Named after the Android character from the Aliens series.

Heart and Mind have very, very blurry memories from when they were human. It doesn't help that they were so young when it happened, now being ageless (albeit pretty much adults, but erm… not doing anything weird). Soul is locked in a frenetic state; terrified of what he's become, believing he needs to be the sum of his parts to become normal again.

When Whole is asleep, he's conscious as Soul; a cacophonous, hateful beast, shapen by ire and self-loathing that believes he will never be normal again. When Soul is asleep, he's conscious as Whole; believing he is locked in a mundane, helpless life, where he remains trapped in his own misery, having lost everything near and dear to him. Both of these two believe one another are merely distant dreams, despite being two sides of the coin of the same person.

Also, Soul's pigeon is in the Mindscape too now. He is now a chicken. Because Heart and Mind thought he was a chicken when they met him. Yes, his name is Darrell.

…Is it obvious that I absolutely love insane canon-divergence and trauma response psychology/symbolism.

If any of this is disrespectful I am so so so so sorry 🙏 it is NOT my intent, I really love portraying real world harsh subjects through a more fantastical, supernatural lens and exploring how they can affect someone, or multiple people. Please please if you are going to tell me this is not cool be gentle, I am very very very very VERY sensitive!!!

Also DO NOT REBLOG THIS WITH ANYTHING SHIPPY OR ANY KIND OF ROMANTIC/SUGGESTIVE INTENTION THIS IS NOT MEANT TO BE A HAPPY STORY!!!!!! NO ONE WINS IN THIS STORY UNTIL I FIGURE OUT A SAPPY HAPPY ENDING LIKE I DO WITH ALL OF MY STORIES!!!!!!!

[gojonish]

ＨＡＬＡＺＩＡ || ˢᵃᵗᵒʳᵘ ᵍᵒʲᵒ

𝙛𝙞𝙣𝙙𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙡𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩 𝙞𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙙𝙖𝙧𝙠𝙣𝙚𝙨𝙨

pairing: satoru gojo x fem!reader

content: suicidal thoughts, deep emotions, angst+fluff, not proofread

note: this is based on the song halazia by ateez. definitely recommend giving a listen cause it's so so good.

People in your clan used to say you were a blessing.

Keywords: used to

You were the ace of your clan, with your incredible smarts and astonishing physical capabilities at such a young age, you were seen to be a promising sorcerer for society. You brought a great deal of honor to your family‘s name and because of this, you were viewed at a higher rank than most girls your age. Your family couldn’t be more proud of you.

Until that night- the night you got cursed.

When you were three months away from attending Tokyo Jujustu High, you had eaten a cursed object in order to gain strength to save a close friend of yours from a powerful curse.

Your friend still ended up dying and you were left with a special grade curse inside of you.

Instead of your family members helping you, they sold you to the Jujutsu World, forgetting all the previous achievements you brought and officially exiling you. You were placed in the hands of the higher-ups, where they locked you in a cramped cell as you awaited to be executed.

Well, supposed to be executed.

It wasn't until a teacher at Tokyo Jujutsu High, Yaga Masamichi was his name, convinced the higher-ups that he'll take care of you and the curse inside of you. He proposed that if he didn't get you under control in three months, then he'll allow the execution to proceed.

Spoiler alert: You were allowed to live since he helped you control your curse. It wasn’t easy, but you had worked hard.

However, that still didn't dismiss the fact that you still had a curse inside of you and were seen as abnormal by your family and clan. No, an abnormal to everyone in the Jujutsu World.

You hated it. You hated everyone. You hated yourself.

If you hadn't eaten that special-grade object, if you had been selfish and let your friend die anyway, then you wouldn't be in this predicament. You wouldn’t have to attend Tokyo Jujutsu High being viewed as a ticking time bomb, waiting to be exploded. You wouldn’t be sitting by yourself in the back of the classroom or having to stay after school once a week to get your curse checked.

However, halfway through the year, you were moved to the second-year class, since Yaga was the one teaching that one. It turns out the first-year teacher was too scared to be in the same room as you. It was fine though, you were smart and Yaga didn’t think it was a huge problem to move you.

You knew these kids were going to treat you the same. They were going to detach themselves from you and make you feel worthless. You wanted to die. You should’ve gotten executed. You had nothing to live for anymo-

“Hey there!”

You looked up from your desk to see a boy around your age, looming down from where you were sitting.

He looked kind yet not put together. His white hair had obviously not been brushed and his sunglasses were tilted on his perfect nose.

He was hot.

“Hey, Suguru! We got a new girl in our class and she looks better than Shoko!” The boy spoke to the front of the classroom, where you had just noticed another boy was present there as well.

“I heard that, you asshole!” The voice you guessed was Shoko yelled outside the classroom.

“Don’t mind her, she doesn’t know any better,” The boy took a seat next to you, taking off his round glasses to reveal his bright blue eyes, “How does it feel to be in the same class as ‘The Gojo Satoru.’”

You had heard about him from others. The boy who was born with the power of infinity and his six eyes. He was an enigma to the Jujutsu Would, hell he was someone you had wanted to meet for a long time.

You saw him eyeing you and said, “Hmm, you got a curse inside of you?”

That snapped you out of your train of thought when he asked that so casually.

“Uh, yeah…” You looked down, playing with your fingers nervously.

“Hmm,” He grabbed your face with one hand, smushing your cheeks together, “Interesting.”

You swatted his hands away from your face, “What the-“

“Alright, it’s settled! You’re a part of our group now!”

You stared at the boy, no, no he’s an idiot now.

You stared at the idiot in front of you, his wide smile flashing back at you. You could feel your eye twitching.

“Why me?” You asked.

“Because you seem cool. C’mon, don’t you wanna have a little fun in life?” He winked at you and you could feel your heart skip a beat.

“Uh, I mean-“

“Come on,” He grabbed your arm gently but still hard enough to drag you out of the classroom. “I’ll be back guys, I gotta show the new girl our hangout spot!”

You furrowed your eyebrows, “Don’t we have class soon?”

“Oh, Mr. Yaga can wait a bit,” He stuck his tongue out at you and winked again.

You should probably let go of his hand, and you probably should go back to class before Yaga gives you a scolding. However, you felt entranced by the way Gojo’s fluffy hair would bounce as you two ran through the halls and how his pale skin slightly turned red as you both entered the cold outdoors.

“We’re almost there,” he said, pointing to a tree in the distance, “It’s that way.”

You nodded and after a few minutes, you were in front of the tree you saw earlier. It would obviously die soon, the brown branches holding for its dear life and the absence of flowers on the tree.

“It’s a cherry blossom. It’s cliche, I know,” Gojo stated. “They don’t bloom until March, so sorry you don’t get to see our hideout at its full glory.”

“It’s not really a hideout if it’s fifty feet from the school.” You pointed to a window that was probably your classroom, “They could most likely see us from here.”

“Hey!” He scolded, “Let me have my imagination! It’s an amazing and secret hideout where we chill.”

You only deadpanned at him and glanced at the dead tree in front of you again, noticing the bark slowly chipping away, “It’s not going to bloom this year.”

“Huh? Yes it is.”

“No, it’s not. It’s actually going to die this year.”

"How are you so sure?"

"Do you see the state it's in?"

"And do you not know how trees work?"

You rolled your eyes at this pointless bickering, "The branches are frail, the wood is weakening, and probably in the next storm, it'll fall down. The point is, it's going to die."

Instead of hearing another refute from the boy, he only chuckled. He patted the tree's wood and smiled, "This tree has been around for a while. It always gets like this in the winter." He walked up to you, "However, with the right nutrients and care, this tree grows to be a wonderful sight. It may look crappy now, but it'll look really pretty once the sun comes out more often."

You only blinked at his somewhat inspirational message and thought about what he had said. The sun will make this tree look better, huh? You eyed it nervously and then looked back at Gojo.

"I know what you're thinking," He started, "You're scared to start over in this class. You think we're going to be against you and isolate you."

Your eyes widened as he basically read your mind, "How did you-"

"I may have six eyes but I can also study people pretty well," He winked. "I'll have you know that I'm not scared of the curse inside of you. I'm Gojo Satoru! I'm not scared of anything."

He patted your head and bent down to your level to reach your eyes, "So, don't worry. I don't care if some random underclassmen are scared of you, if the teachers don't like you, or if the higher-ups want to kill you. If the whole world is against you, I'll be the one by your side."

You could feel your face heating up as you processed his words. He was the first student- the first person besides Yaga that actually believed in you. That didn't care you had a curse inside of you. Before you could stop it, tears started falling down your face.

"Whoa! Did I say something wrong?" You could see him panicking and then you laughed.

"No, no, you said the right thing. Thank you," You smiled at him. Your heart hadn't felt this warm in ages.

As you wiped the tears from your eyes, Gojo was still thinking about that smile you flashed him after you thanked him. He talked to you at first cause he thought you were interesting- someone with a curse that he could tease in his free time. However, now that he really looked at you and your gorgeous face, he realized that he wanted to keep you around, as a best friend. He gave you a smile back and rubbed your shoulder.

After you put yourself together, you cleared your throat, "Well, I'll be watching to see if the tree looks as good as you say it will in the spring."

He winked, "Trust me, it'll bloom so beautifully this year that you'll never want to leave. I promise."

And months later, when the weather began to warm up and the animals awoke from their deep slumber, the tree in all its glory, bloomed bright pink flowers. As you stood in front of it and saw the sun beaming down on it, you couldn't help but smile.

"What'd I tell you?" A smirking Satoru teased next to you.

"Yeah, yeah you were right," You rolled your eyes and smiled at the boy next to you. "Thank you, Gojo."

"Pshhh, I barely took care of this tree. It was all nature's doing."

You wanted to tell him that you were thanking him for bringing you out of the darkness, but you decided to keep that to yourself.

Because for once in your life, after receiving your curse, you felt like you had something to live for. Your sun.

[sillyspero]

Mingi the Loner

Our final analysis at last! Princess Minki, it's your time to shine. Click here for the masterlist!

TW for this one: Suicidal ideation, suicide attempt

Before Fever

Mingi grew up with no family besides his grandmother, living in poverty and struggling to make friends in school. From a very young age, he was suicidal because of his situation, but adults didn't take him seriously, Mingi assumes this is because they thought that someone that young couldn't be feeling such heavy things. This reaction to his genuine struggle led Mingi to be very guarded, which is why he struggled to make friends. Lucky for Mingi, Wooyoung came into his life from elementary school and beyond and was persistent in his mission to become Mingi's friend. Mingi felt comfortable around Wooyoung and attached to his infectious laugh. Wooyoung eventually brought Mingi along to the bunker to meet Ateez, and Mingi enjoyed making music with them and spending time with them. One day, when Mingi's grandmother suffers an accident, Mingi falls back into his depression and his suicidal thoughts. This shift presents itself outwardly in the form of Mingi telling the other members that he is giving up on music and that their dream is worthless. Mingi's attempt to quit the group causes Jongho to punch him, reinforcing Mingi's feelings that no one cares for him. Even though the fight is broken up by Yunho, the tension that lingers in the air is too heavy and leads to the splitting of the group. Mingi returns to his loneliness and depression, feeling completely alone in the world.

In the Diaries (Fever & Beyond)

Right off the bat, Mingi is feeling pretty hopeless about the group's situation. When they're meeting with Left Eye, Mingi despairs about how they will possibly be able to find the Cromer with the help of this old man who is clearly not of a healthy mind. Mingi notes that Wooyoung makes a push for them to not only find the bunker but also help Left Eye and help the Grimes girl regain her voice, calling him altruistic for this. (In the translation I read the first time I learned the lore, Mingi describes him as nosy, but in Dear Diary, the word was changed to altruistic for a kinder understanding of Mingi.) Mingi ends up going with the team that is setting out to help Left Eye.

After relieving Left Eye of his hallucinations, the group sails out to the Guardians' Island. In the night, Mingi seeks solace, waiting until after all the members have gone to sleep. When he gets on deck, Mingi finds Left Eye speaking with the Grimes siblings. Not in the mood for conversation, he resorts to just eavesdropping. The main thing they were discussing was the hope that Ateez gave them, saying that they think they'll be able to save everyone with their help. The three of them end up singing and dancing, which makes Mingi laugh lightly and improves his mood. Then someone says something which really strikes Mingi as profound.

"'Dancing defines at least the smallest will to live so people dance at the brink of hopelessness.' That's right, I could have lived without realizing this. I could not see the present because it was disturbed by past misfortunes." - Fever Pt. 3

Mingi realizes that when his life is at its worst, when he wants to die, that's when he needs dancing the most. I believe this marks a shift in his perspective and attitude toward the group.

When they return to World A without Yeosang, Mingi is the one to console and talk down Jongho from fighting against Yunho. Mingi sees himself in both of them, but primarily in Yunho and his desire to prioritize time with loved ones over time with Ateez. Mingi explains to Jongho that when his grandmother suffered her accident, he was haunted by the conflict of his having a good time with his members while she was struggling. This internal conflict is why he wanted to quit. Mingi empathizes heavily with Yunho, knowing how hard it would be to lose a loved one and knowing the pain of having to experience it a second time would be unbearable. Mingi's explanations are enough for Jongho to feel regretful about what he did to Mingi, and also enough for Jongho to change his mind and respect Yunho's choice.

When they come back to World Z again, Mingi pushes back against the system set in place for the Black Link. He points out that it would be more efficient to just directly connect people as soon as they use the breakers so that they can be safe. The other members agree with him, but Left Eye explains that it is important to allow people the free will and choice to connect to the Black Link. Hearing this explanation, Mingi understands.

Mingi's role in the Prestige Academy mission is to go as a security guard with Wooyoung, which is fun because of their history as friends. Mingi executes his role perfectly, sending out the signal when the students pass through. When the brother is up on the top floor in distress, Hongjoong glances over to Mingi and San. This could be read as just regular distress and shared fears, but I think Hongjoong looked at those two in particular, knowing that they have had struggles with despairing in that manner, Mingi in particular, with his chronic suicidal ideations. Mingi's reaction isn't covered in detail here but I wish it was because his perspective on this would be thoroughly interesting, knowing his history with his mental health.

In the mission to find Z, Mingi is the group's driver. His lack of concern for death allows him to drive without restraint and get them into the fortress quickly. Mingi then helps by driving everyone back to the bunker. When the guardians break into the bunker, Mingi quickly assumes it was Seonghwa's fault, yet he abandons any resentment or questions when Seonghwa is attacked, rushing to defend him even at the direct expense of his own safety.

In the mess of everything that happens once the gang is reunited at the Guardians' Island, Mingi tries his best to quickly save the boy's brother as he falls into the furnace, and the boy who went in after him. Mingi uses the Cromer to get into position, but then realizes that he likely won't be able to save both of them. Before him is the brother who struggled so much and wanted to die, and the boy who betrayed them and caused many deaths, but recently changed his mind. Mingi tries to save the brother but cannot reach him. The brother looks up at him and closes his eyes, surrendering to death. Mingi knows the feeling being conveyed personally and realizes he is being told it's okay to save the boy instead. And thus, Mingi saves the boy who betrayed them all and watches as the other dies before his eyes and before the eyes of his younger brother. In the end, though, it doesn't matter. Both brothers end up dead.

Returning to World A with the weight of all these deaths on his mind, Mingi tries to pour his hopelessness into dancing and singing with everyone instead of falling back into his depression, however hard that may be. He takes up odd jobs in order to pay for his grandmother's hospital bills and just tries to do his best. On the way to practice one day, he gets scouted by a modeling agency and starts modeling. People love his distinct style and vibe and he eventually gets to do runways and advertisements and all sorts of things like that.

When he passes a group of teens busking on the street, it prompts Mingi to reminisce and he realizes he's at such a different point in his life than he was when he was making music.

"At that time, Mingi was overcome with the sense that he had crossed a river he could never cross again. On the far side of that river were those times he had spent running recklessly, passionately toward his dreams, those times when it didn’t matter if anyone acknowledged him, and it was enough to simply have fun. Where Mingi stood now was a place where results and achievements trumped passion and spirit, a place where value could be bought and sold. While MinGi wondered if ‘this is what it must be like to become an adult,’ he couldn’t erase that vague feeling of longing." - Golden Hour Pt. 1

Mingi's grandmother's bills are covered; he is rich, famous, and well loved, all eyes on him. He has come so far from the life of poverty and isolation in which he grew up, and also far from the days of simple fun with Ateez.

To distract from his feelings, Mingi goes on social media and sees Hongjoong's post about being reunited with his family. Later on, on a flight, Mingi ends up seated next to Yunho, and they both witness Wooyoung's flight attendant performance. Once at Yeosang's party, Mingi is able to crack jokes and laugh with the members once again. Hongjoong says his mom is a big fan of Mingi and Seonghwa's boss is as well so he generously calls them and leaves them fun messages. Mingi isn't exactly eager to return to making music, but he's glad to spend time dancing and hanging out with the members regardless.

Mingi's Primary Symbols:

-shadow/void/isolation (ie Fever Diary Film, Youth, Wonderland, Inception, Turbulence, Answer)

-storms (ie Deja Vu, The Real)

-earbuds/headphones (ie Fever Diary Film)

-guns/fighting (ie Work, Bouncy, Rocky) (this one is a little bit of a stretch idk)

Mingi's Primary Character Traits:

-guarded

-empathetic

-forgiving

-fearless

Closing Thoughts

Mingi makes me so sad!! His depression and suicidal thoughts alone are incredibly heavy, but what makes it more painful is that in spite of everything, Mingi always has the drive and space to fight for others. It could be argued that his bravery is a result of his suicidal thoughts and fearlessness in the face of death and I think that’s fair, but I also just see him as a highly empathetic character. Mingi understands the complexities of life and morality and thus he’s able to forgive others and put his life on the line for the few people who truly see him in return. I know he believes that he has only truly opened up to Wooyoung but I think every instance of Mingi leaping into action for his members is his way of opening his heart to them and showing he cares. Mingi right now is in a spot where he believes himself to be past the point in his life where he is a musician, but I hope that he won’t forget how dance helps him if he ever gets into a deep state of poor mental health again. Mingi deserves nothing less than to be known and loved and happy.

Please send in any questions, and thanks for sticking around for all these deep dives! Something special is coming tomorrow, so look forward to it :) I hope this was interesting!