#he’s never taken anything seriously in his miserable life

[dnangelic]

I gotta wooork but I just gotta say even though dark’s the one who ends up on the receiving end of being called an emo more than daisuke daisuke’s the one with more emo spirit

[deadsetobsessions]

Alley Drunk! Danny AU- Pt. 4

[Pt.1] [Pt.2] [Pt.3]

Danny blinked down at the cart, where a red hoodie and pants with red stripes along the side laid over the lip of the cart. Considering they’re in this universe’s brand of Marget- seriously, who names a store Target? If anything in Amity Park was named that, Skulker would have wrecked it in five seconds flat- it’s hilariously on brand. Though, to be fair, this was Gotham’s version too, which meant a lot of security guards (who definitely doubled as goons for the Rogues, Danny was sure) and the vibes were spooky.

“I’m guessing red’s your favorite color.”

Instead of the humorous way he meant the sentence, Jason looked up anxiously and Danny immediately hated himself a little bit more.

“Sh- I can put it back..?” Jason hunched in on himself.

Danny tracked the movement with clearer eyes than he’s had in a long while and ancients, does it remind him of how Dani was in front of Vlad all those years ago. And Danny has spent his entire half life being not like Vlad, so he’s not going to start now.

“Nah, you should definitely add some more stuff. This is no where near enough clothes.”

It really wasn’t. Danny had taken Jason to the store to pick out clothes- “Ther’s a second hand store down the stree’, ya know,” Jason had mumbled when they went through the doors- but the kid had only tentatively put in a small red hoodie and some pants in the cart. Now he had to put this in a way that’ll wipe the stubbornly hesitant look on Jason’s face off.

“Think about it this way, then. You’re repping me now, and while I might be the alley drunk, I’m not the poorly dressed alley drunk, yeah?”

“Oh. Tha’ makes sense.” Jason nodded to himself determinedly, and the kid strode over to the t-shirt section. For all of his confidence, he still glanced back to see if it was okay with Danny.

Well, Dani was the same way before she found her confidence (when she knew Danny wouldn’t abandon her or hurt her) so Danny just gave him a thumbs up before reaching into the rack and sweeping an armful of clothing straight into the cart. Then, he strode over to the jackets and grabbed the ones in Jason’s size and slightly bigger. Oh, he has to grab shoes. He’ll leave that for later, but Danny was going to get those ratty trainers off of Jason’s feet and into the nearest trash can if it was the last thing he does.

The halfa hummed, pausing at the first decidedly not miserable sound he’s made in a while. Dammit, if that wasn’t a sign of Danny’s attachment to Jason, he doesn’t know what would be. To be fair… Danny already committed murder for the kid, which was pretty much something he thought he’d never do, so in for a penny out for a pound or whatever.

He put a significant amount of the budget aside for the section labeled “JASON” so Danny shopped without a worry. Charlie’s ill-gotten assets were a good monetary compensation for his crime of existing near Jason or existing, period.

He picked up toiletries, toothbrushes and the like, when Jason came back sans t-shirt. Instead of a shirt- Danny had actually hoped that Jason would try to get multiple shirts- Jason was clutching a book.

Before he could even voice anything, Danny plucked the book out of his grip and put it into the cart with a disarming smile.

“Oh, good idea. We should get you books too. Wanna go pick out some more?”

“Uh- y’re just gonna get a book, just like that?”

“More than one book, I should hope. You are going to school, right?”

“…Yeah!” Danny couldn’t fathom ever being excited at the thought of school, but as Jason bounced away to peruse the admittedly poor selection of books, Danny couldn’t help but think that maybe he should give this education thing another try. Who knows? Maybe it’ll be less stressful now that he’s not Phantom.

Danny walked to the aisle next to the books and promptly proceeded to shove every single piece of stationary he thought was nice- pens, gel pens, cooling pens and pencils, a thick stack of notebooks, flash cards, etcetera- into the rapidly getting full cart.

Jason came back with three more books- nice, the classics- and froze at the sight of the cart.

“Oh, hey. Getting all of those?”

“Wha’- wha’s wit’ the stuff?”

“School supplies! Quality education starts with quality supplies, you know!” Danny said, a sliver of the grin that used to come so easily to him making an appearance on his face. "Don't worry, I budgeted. See?"

Danny handed Jason a piece of paper, confident that the kid would know if it was good or not.

"Where'd... ya get all of this?"

"Hmm... here and there."

Jason looked up at him, squinting suspiciously. "I hear' Charlie's gone poofed up."

Danny shrugged and put a calculator in the cart. "Oh, I'm sure he's busy."

Yeah, Danny thought vindictively. Busy being dead.

"Ya sound like a walking con," Jason said as he visibly decided to give up fighting against Danny's spending. "We nee' food."

"Gotcha. Well, if you need anything else, just bring it into the cart."

"I want veggies. Frozen, 's cheaper."

Danny nodded, resisting the urge to ruffle Jason's hair.

----

"Hey, you's the Alley Drunk, right? 'Bout that boy you've been toting ar-"

Danny punched the guy in the face, dropping him like a stone. He looked up slowly and swayed.

"Any of you ask about my kid brother again, and I won't bother with being drunk when I hit you."

Rapid nods. Danny shuffled away, satisfied.

----

Two weeks later, after a school day, Danny finds Jason heading to the bathroom with a box of...

"Hair-dye?"

Jason, who was marginally more relaxed and assured that Danny wasn't going to kick him out, nodded.

"Dye's fadin' n' I dun wanna get nabbed on the streets for having red hair."

Danny blinked. "You have red hair?"

"Sure do. See? Roots are showin' again." Jason pointed at his scalp where Danny could see the hair was getting lighter.

"Right. Well- I'll leave you to it. Let me know if you need help, kiddo." Danny said, desperately hoping he hid how off kilter he was feeling well.

"I don't need help, ah've been doing this for ages." The kid went into the bathroom and closed the door harshly. When the lock clicked and the faucet began running, Danny let himself slide down the wall into a crouch, hands cradling his head.

Red hair. Blue eyes. Tan skin. The facial features. The intelligence and empathy.

Danny chuckled hysterically under his breath.

Was Jason this universe's version of Jazz?

"Fuck."

[brynn-lear]

LOCKED AND LOADED [Yandere!Wanderer x Reader]

Prompt: The world is about to end. How will you grieve when you're forced to be with a miserable man until the last second? [Dedicated To: @mixed-kester for the Alone Together Event]

Content Tags: yandere!scaramouche "fluff" oneshot (yes, there are no other parts:]), major persona 3 spoilers but you DON’T need to know the game before reading this since everything is explained, improper use of a S.E.E.S evoker /j, Scaramouche is so normal about you, UNRELIABLE NARRATOR, major character death/s–

V. Acceptance.

"Where the hell are you, (Y/n)?"

Standing near what should have been the front doors of his university was a short man with dark purple hair. He leaned precariously against them, his head tilted upward as if the sickly green moon's ominous pull was nothing to be afraid of. Gekkoukan University's nearby dorms– fraternity and sorority houses included– are not usually this silent. Instead of people, coffins were aligned perpendicular to the ground.

The wanderer glanced at his watch with mild interest. He had been waiting for a while now. Your guest hoisted himself up, circling the ground with the tip of his shoe. The baseline of his attitude had always defaulted to irritability and passive-aggressiveness. The vertically aligned hour-and-minute hands do not placate it. The timing itself makes it worse.

It's December 31st, 2009, 12 AM– the Dark Hour.

With a harsh sneer, he pocketed his hands. You usually have the door to the Velvet Room open to him whenever. What's the big deal? Were you seriously THAT mad at him? Really? He didn't do anything to warrant this "pettiness". He had never known silence as much as this moment.

You should've accounted for the hostility that proceeds on the "off-chance" he did arrive early.

His tone darkened, his bloodied hands gripping his S.E.E.S evoker tightly.

"If you don’t show up, I will cleanse the world of human emotion all by myself"

You shook from afar, afraid of how he wouldn't hesitate to make his threat a reality. He had already taken so much– you were beyond mad at him. You were terrified. Wronged. Abused. You didn't want to step into the light. Much worse, step into his shadow.

The worst thing evil can do is to turn you into one of them.

He clutched the bloodied yellow scarf in his hands tightly.

Why did this happen?

How did things END up like this?

IV. Depression.

You took a deep breath and charged forward.

You don't trust [Wanderer] ever since Ryoji told him about the impending apocalypse.

Seldom do you leave the Velvet Room. You weren't hiding in the Velvet room months before the end of the world was imminent. When April had only reached its fourth day, there was nothing you wanted more than to spend time outside. So ignominiously innocent. You did not know who [Wanderer] was and how much effect he would have on your life at the time. You were just tired of the ongoing stream of uneventfulness.

And now here you are, berating the protagonist in full.

"[Wanderer], why is Ryoji missing?! US ATTENDANTS CAN'T FIND TRACK HIM ANYWHERE!!!"

With a fistful of his university uniform, you yanked him by the collar. Your eyes were livid as you reeled your composure. This wasn't what you had in mind when you were "isekai"d into a video game. Out of any game, why did it have to be Persona 3? And out of anyone that could be a protagonist, why did it have to be HIM?!

You thought this would be a grand affair... Whatever they spun in anime back when your reality existed were pure lies. Where are the scenic views? The mountains? The grasslands? This plane of existence you're forced to sit through for eternity was far from the RPG fantasy people would hope for. No closer you could ever be to paradise.

In fact, this man is threatening to ruin said paradise.

[Wanderer] pulled your hands away forcefully. His glare was not that different from yours. "Why do you care about him so much?"

"Oh, I don't know! Maybe it's because his death means forgetting everything?!" You clenched your empty fists. "You know damn well what happens if he dies! You'll lose all the help you can get to stopping the Fall!"

Such a heavy weight on your shoulders but the protagonist doesn't care. This may be a turn-based game– but it wasn't based on you. If it was, you wouldn't be screaming your heart out at him! You wouldn't be an NPC. Hell, you'd probably be a better protagonist than him.

You closed your eyes, took a deep breath, and sighed every stress out of your system.

"Listen—" You rubbed your temple. "You need to start forming bonds. Social links. Support system. Confidants. Whatever you want to call it. You were supposed to have the answer by now as to what life is for."

[Wanderer] remained silent throughout your spiels. His facial expression alone was enough to infer immense disinterest. You were mindlessly doing your job. There will be no tirade or physical aggression that can convince him that you believe in your assertions with full conviction.

"Do you want to see him?"

"Yes! Of course. Knowing you, you're—"

"Tempted to kill him because you think I want the world to end?"

"Obviously."

That's where you're wrong.

A nihilistic man can have other reasons to commit murder.

"But if he's missing, you can forget about him, right?"

"What on earth are you talking about?!"

[Wanderer] turned around. "Meet me later, you know the time."

"I'll show you where Ryoji is."

III. Bargaining.

XX/09/2009

He doesn't recall the time he was brought into this world like you had.

Puppets are malleable. Memories are easy to overwrite when your body is held together by white wood and "khemia". His past evades him.

Maybe it's better this way.

He took you to Chagall Café. Although it was your first time out in a long while, he had no qualms about ignoring your questions. He feigned deafness as you asked about the news, his college life, friends, or anything related to what was happening in 2009. And he even ignored your humble request to buy the cheapest coffee for you. Instead, he bought you a chocolate frappe.

"For Elizabeth's cutest little sibling." He said, sarcastically copying Elizabeth's tone as he sharply handed the drink. "Wouldn't want everyone's darling to get a caffeine addiction."

Thanks, asshat.

Of all his offensive behavior— he really spent more money just to insult you. You shook your head and accepted it. It's the most expensive one on the menu too. What dedication to being a hater. But before you could open your wallet, he shot your payment down.

"Just take it." He smirked. "Look at you, paying me back for treating you poorly. Are you a masochist?"

You immediately shoved your money back in. "You still bought me a free drink, so really, who's the loser here? Prick."

[Wanderer] laughed heartily before he pulled out his battered codal, which had underlined texts for provisions he deemed important. There was a momentary softness in his gaze that disappeared in an instant.

But that's the only conversation he planned on having that evening. He did mention he'll drag you out in his study session so you weren't too shocked by it. Instead, you sat and awkwardly people-watched. The world you came from and this one were identical. You got through your old 2009 just fine— it's just that Tatsumi Port Island was not a real location from your original Japan.

Your memories about the video game Persona aren't very clear since you reincarnated in the game, but the red band [Wanderer] wore on his sleeve affirmed that he is the leader of S.E.E.S. It's nice to know that someone like him has the potential to become a leader.

[Wanderer] appeared wholly immersed in his studies.

…

Maybe he wouldn't notice if you looked around—

…?!

He immediately grabbed your hand. You yelped slightly as you noticed the iron grip he had.

"Where are you going?"

Don't leave him.

He squeezed just a bit more tightly.

"W-What the— I'm just going to the bathroom." You felt a shiver down your spine as you shared his gaze. There's a dull coldness to it you couldn't quite place, as if he had been a witness to injustice, sevenfold.

You quietly sat back down. He still hasn't let go of your hand.

"Good riddance." He muttered.

"If it isn't [Wanderer]!"

You turned around, yanking your hand away.

It's Ryoji.

You stood up, gawking.

"W-Woah, are you okay?" Ryoji asked, hurriedly approaching you. While you were frozen in place, [Wanderer] looked at his empty hand, feeling your warmth escape his fingertips.

G-Good… he's still alive.

You thought [Wanderer] killed him.

[Wanderer] is the wildcard, and that's a terrifying factor to consider. He hasn't shown any interest in humanity. Knowing his past has not increased any hope on your end. Everyone else in his eyes are insignificant insects.

He has the power to end Ryoji.

He has the power to end this world.

Locked and loaded.

Ryoji's eyes softened. "Wait, I think I know a beautiful face like yours from somewhere… You must be [Wanderer]'s attendant, (Y/n), right?"

You blinked.

"Wait, how did you…"

He chuckled, taking and placing a soft kiss on your gloved hands.

"I have my ways." Ryoji winked.

"Don't touch them." [Wanderer] sneered.

Ryoji stood up straight, unfazed by his threatening tone. You took a moment to examine his appearance. He had a lot of white clothing and a big yellow scarf around his neck. Just below his left eye is a mole. On the surface, he appeared quite human, but everyone seated at this table was aware of his true nature.

He is the 13th arcana. The appraiser.

You and [Wanderer] have every right to be wary.

"I'm Ryoji Mochizuki. It's nice to be officially introduced to you, Mx. (Y/n)."

"Ryoji Mochizuki…" You tasted the syllables.

"Oh? Who knew hearing my name from your lips makes it sound so wonderful."

"C-Cut it out, you don't mean that." You said, a little flustered.

[Wanderer]'s gaze fixated on you, stewing in his concoction of envy and misery. His fists were clenched beneath the table, knuckles turning white. With narrowed eyes, he watched as you continued engaging in conversation with Ryoji. His laughter was grating his ears. He couldn't bear the sight of you engaging with another man, especially someone as flirtatious as him.

Ryoji, sensing [Wanderer]'s distress, shot him a casual glance. To top the look, he paired it with a knowing smirk. He made mental notes of the man's clenched jaw and tensed shoulders.

"You seem a little on edge, [Wanderer]. Finals coming up?" He feigned innocence.

"It's December, and I'm not on edge." He scoffed, trying not to make his gritted teeth evident. "Don't you own a calendar? Finals are in March. To think a pea-brain like you managed to transfer to Gekkan…"

"Right, right." Ryoji smiled, closing his eyes. "Then it must be my proposal you're thinking of."

You stiffened; [Wanderer] did not.

"Ryoji—"

"I know, Mx. (Y/n)." He started. "I know you're not too keen on the idea of killing me. My existence is the affirmation of the Fall. None of you— sorry, I forgot (Y/n) is from the Velvet room— I meant none of them will live till Spring… Or perhaps it's more accurate to say they'll forfeit the will to live."

…

"… I-I'm sorry." Ryoji buried his face in his yellow scarf. There's a certain tremble in his voice that truly emphasizes his sorrow. "Just as all living things die, the flow of time cannot be hindered. But there's comfort in killing me. If you do… you won't have to suffer for the coming days."

If [Wanderer] kills Ryoji, Tartarus, the Dark Hour— the burden of everyone's memories will all disappear.

But [Wanderer] can retain his.

He's not originally from this world after all…

However, should he let him live, the rest of S.E.E.S's life will continue until everyone's inevitable demise.

"Yeah, yeah. Whatever."

[Wanderer] rolled his eyes, diverting his eyes back to his notes. "Everyone will die soon, who cares? I've heard your spiel several times already. You need to get more entertaining material."

"[Wanderer]!" You scolded him.

Your eyes widened in disbelief at [Wanderer]'s unwittingly casual jabs at the apocalypse. You wanted to ask him if he was even listening, but the truth will disappoint you. A cold sweat formed on your brow.

Ryoji's smile crooked into a hopeless one.

"You depend on (Y/n) too much."

[Wanderer] froze. "What did you say…?"

"You have a group of people around you, eager to establish a bond— eager to be friends with you. You have met Junpei, Yukari, Mitsuru, Akihiko, Fuuka, and many others– but you don't consider any of them as your friends." Ryoji shook his head. "Instead, you spend your time with just (Y/n). Never anyone else. Just them. To the point that I think it's unhealthy."

"I don't care for humans." He replied immediately.

"You're human too, [Wanderer]." Ryoji shot back. "You're made of blood, bones, and flesh."

[Wanderer] fell silent. What Ryoji said was true, and yet…

"Am I?" He laughed.

The sound was hollow and mechanical. Deprived of genuine mirth. It did not sound forced, yet his eyes were dull.

…

Perhaps he lived as a puppet for so long that the idea of being human has yet to reach him.

Ryoji shifted, uncomfortably glancing between you two. The tension was palpable despite the cafe's peaceful ambiance. Ryoji cleared his throat softly.

"I should leave…" He trailed off, voice slightly wavering. His eyes darted around, scrambling for words to say. "But, um, before I leave, I just want to say again that you need to give it some more thought, [Wanderer]... It's a big deal… Just…"

Ryoji sighed. "Remember to make your choice to spare or kill me by December 31st. I'm glad you're having fun but don't get too distracted with (Y/n). I'll be waiting."

That being said, his footsteps reverberated loudly in the otherwise still room as he turned and headed for the door. He dared to turn back as he grabbed for the doorknob and saw you two sharing a look that he couldn't determine if it was one of contemplation or displeasure. He hurried out and the cafe door shut behind him.

"Happy?" [Wanderer] bitterly asked.

You paused for a moment… then grinned.

"Tsk, what are you laughing at, worm?"

"Nothing, nothing!" You shrugged. "I just thought that for a guy with a stick up his ass, you're cute when you're jealous."

That riled [Wanderer] up in an instant.

You do not know the full extent of his envy's filth.

"I am NOT—" He stopped, realizing how counterproductive it would be. "Whatever. I don't care."

"Uhuh?"

"Shut up and finish your damn chocolate!"

II. Anger.

Before you know it, it's April.

"Seriously, you three, I'm bored as fuck! Can't I just take a stroll outside?" You yelled, waving the heavy persona compendium in the air as your sisters ignored you.

It hasn't been long since you reincarnated, so your right to go outside isn't as liberal. Given the impending threat of an apocalypse, the Velvet Room attendants are especially overprotective.

"(Y/n), dear sibling, watch your mouth! You mustn't let Igor or Nameless hear you speak so vulgarly."

Taking a good look at your new "siblings", you've noticed how almost everyone was present. Margaret sat elegantly on the sofa while Theodore & Elizabeth were doing their best to calm you down. It's almost rare to have all three in one place. The three oldest were busy-bodies who had more eccentric matters they devoted their attention to. Including rapping and dancing, though neither performances are good for your senses.

"If boredom plagues you, then you should try teasing Theodore." Elizabeth yawned. "He's easy pickings."

"Sister!" Theodore pouted. "Shouldn't (Y/n) focus on studying how fusing works? It would be a better use of their time…"

"The day (Y/n)'s new wildcard learns the value of social links might just be the day miserly politicians become generous." Elizabeth shrugged.

You paled, tugging her sleeve. "Oh fuck… Am I screwed?"

She gave you a lopsided smile. "I may be your new sibling but that does not mean I am obliged to resolve your problems, (Y/n). Learn to solve this on your own."

Theodore coughed.

"Please, stop scaring them, sister Elizabeth. It's not their fault this new guest is a cruel arbiter. I fear there will not be a second of groundless joy in store for them…"

"You're not helping me relax either! Motherfucker. Can't you two speak normally?"

"Settle down, all of you."

The four of you stood straight as Igor tilted his chin up. Though you've gotten used to his bloodshot gaze, it had a way of prickling your skin this time around. With his signature smile, he closed his eyes and snapped his fingers.

"Our guest is about to enter."

"W-Wait, RIGHT NOW?!?"

Before you could react, the room transformed into what appeared to be a large elevator. The walls were barred and creaking noises began to subtly make their presence. A floating door materialized, and soon, opened.

Dark purple hair and eyes, short frame, soft face.

"…Hmm?"

You blinked.

"Wait, no way…"

You know him.

Of course, you know him.

"Everyone, meet [Wanderer]."

You decided that you two should reintroduce yourselves and forget that the past ever happened.

For now, you had been gifted with a vital role: being the protagonist's attendant.

According to your Igor, your role is to assist your guest in fusing personas. He had chosen you specifically in advance as you are his "anima/animus figure". Initially, that job was for Elizabeth. However, your beliefs, your intuition, your emotions— they're in perfect tune with [Wanderer]. Igor expects you to facilitate their spiritual and psychological growth and implore them to interact more with others.

Which, based on that alone, sounds like this puppet just hired an unpaid therapist.

"What do you want?"

"Well…"

Since you became [Wanderer]'s attendant, you've started to have thicker skin. He will always make his crankiness known each visit. You're slightly grateful for it, for how else would you know patience otherwise? Though his personality rubs you the wrong way, his strength does have merits you cannot ignore. Even Belladona, the Velvet Room's devout singer, had sung praises for his mettle. There was one line that struck you about her song, something about him being like a puppet with a beating heart unbeknownst to himself…

Which is why you thought you might as well try to see if you could convince him to take you out sometimes.

"What, like a date?" [Wanderer] scoffed then smirked, a light blush on his face. "Are you really that desperate?"

"No, eww—" You rolled your eyes. "I meant it literally. Igor and the others wouldn't let me go outside unless I'm with someone they trust."

He looked away and covered his mouth, his shoulders trembling slightly.

"Like a child?"

"Yeah, yeah, shut the fuck up." You deadpanned, your pride slightly chipped. "Like a child or whatever you want to see it, as long as it gets me out of here. I just want to see the world before it all…"

You paused.

Better not to bring it up. You're not sure if Igor told him yet.

[Wanderer] raised an eyebrow. "What's in it for me?"

You shrugged. "Is money not enough?"

He paused.

…

"You've got to be kidding me— Fine, what else do you want?"

His eyelids lowered, hissing slightly. "Evil expects evil from others, huh? I wasn't trying to think of anything more, but now that I think about it…"

"Oh, great."

"… I can take your request," he pointed at you. "But only if you join me in the library. Anywhere else, especially loud places like clubs, I'll send your ass back."

That's a no-brainer.

"Deal!"

Though you've missed the peculiar sight, [Wanderer] had a small smile on his face as you shook hands. The two of you had become nearly inseparable since then.

Worryingly, he's closer to you than other humans.

The only relationship he needed was with you.

And with what little time this world has left, you hope you could have a last cup of coffee with him…

I. Denial.

Your reality crumbled. What a START.

Your family, friends... all gone. No one was left. You convince yourself you "deserved" this punishment for smoking a life away with dreadful workloads, no matter how untrue it was. When the world burnt down, you were sent into a darkness you had not known before.

The person in charge of your reincarnation process told you that for the next few minutes, you and a selected companion will see your lives flash before your eyes in a void— and it will not necessarily be a comforting sight.

But you woke up relaxed. In an abyss filled with broken mirrors meant to depict your character to pieces, you donned a plain expression. There was not an inch of you that grieved for what was lost. Similarly, you had no care for how you were being transmigrated to another realm. Though you had grown accustomed to this isolation, humanity always struggled with silence. There was ringing on your fingers. When you unclasped your hands, you saw a pointed shard. Curiously, you clenched it. But no matter the tightness of your grip, no blood came out.

Your breath fogged up the glass. You wondered why that Memokeeper told you that you deserve to live on. You thought your life was rather unremarkable.

Makes sense. You thought to yourself. I'd rather pride myself on a boring life with integrity than an ambitious yet fraudulent one.

「Assignments. Commute. Study. Review. Assignments. Commute. Study. Review. Was that all your life was...? Then tell me, little (Y/n), why does the mirror in front of you appear distorted?」

And so, you gazed forward. Your reflection stood tall, larger than your life, and it beckoned you to come closer. This "(Y/n) (L/n)" had the opposite of a Cheshire grin- perhaps a caricature- perhaps an accurate depiction. Wearied of yourself and wearied of the sycophantic students around you. How unhappy are you to see yourself as someone like this? Are these the emotions you wish to be preserved? Is this the memory you want your world to be remembered by?

「These memories must be corrupted. Someone must be tampering with them. I do not think you lived a miserable life.」

I can't answer your questions either. But I think that reflection is who I am, because sometimes...

"I wish I had never been born at all."

Your lips were parted, but no sound came out. You resonated with those words, but they did not come from you. The voice was dark, hopeless, and alone.

When you were being sent off, you thought no one was around to greet you. There was another man. He had short hair and purple eyes- an incredibly rare sight in your world. This man seemed to be gazing at his reflection as well. You needn't know how he saw himself. The emptiness in his eyes did not differ from yours. He, too, was masking isolation as independence with an intense fragility. The dread he inflicted upon you was the closest you've ever gotten to facing your own perceived "weakness".

His memories were a mixbag. Some were filled with domestic bliss, but the anger in his heart triumphed more. He had friends but thought himself betrayed. His heart was constructed through a system of evasions, and he was a specialist in self-deception. This man knew little of emotions but had an abundance of it. It's no wonder he refused to sacrifice the artistry of his vengeance against humanity. You can sympathize with how he could not attach himself to those around him. He was burdened with malicious knowledge. Fakes. Lies. Insincerities. A class of his own.

However, he had a sin you cannot empathize with. A trait you can read that you're certain he had never noticed about himself.

He was a sickeningly beautiful man with a peculiar innocence.

He looked like a man who truly did not live in the real world.

This man did not feel real to you. He felt made-up. Fictional. His aura of flawlessness appalled you. Though you shared the same sentiments, you thought him dimensionless.

Yet this is supposedly your first meeting.

「Is it? Where have you seen him before? Can't you remember, dear (Y/n)?」

No. No, I can't.

「... What a shame. Worry no more, little (Y/n). Close your eyes. When you wake up, you will meet your new reality— new realm— new family.」

You nodded and agreed to a higher existence you did not believe in. Unlike others, you were a little bit more incapable of trusting a living soul. But there's no other choice.

Life is ordinarily far from anyone's control in the first place. Why bother fighting? If following can make her fuck off, it doesn't matter.

Nothing matters.

Wait…

Is that…

Scaramouche?

Before you closed your eyes and accepted your fate, you could've sworn...

He looked at you with a crooked grin.

「Thou art I... And I am thou...

Thou hast established a new bond...

Thou shalt be blessed when creating

Personas of the Universe Arcana..."」

"Hmm. Strange… Is that truly the order of the story?"

A woman stared at you.

Not (Y/n) (L/n).

YOU.

BEHIND.

THE.

SCREEN.

She smiled wryly.

Hate might empower you for a short while, but it comes at the cost of consuming you whole. Should a shard or any surface reflect [Wanderer]'s face, he would understand what he had become. However, it's too late. He had made his choice and stomped away any remorse he could have. When all is said and done, he alone will spread the ashes. He alone will stand. A blank slate.

[Wanderer] spent his life looking for scapegoats and ended up removing his responsibility.

Betrayals?

What a sad, sad puppet.

What a poor excuse to justify an entire apocalypse.

A poor excuse of a man.

"THE ARCANA IS THE MEANS BY WHICH ALL IS REVEALED." She muttered softly. "And you have been reading your story in REVERSE. Perhaps this is the only way this world can attain SALVATION. The chronological order is not a slice of life. You did not have a disagreement and decided to start your relationship over again. Life is far more WICKED."

"Read it again, but from DENIAL to ACCEPTANCE. The proper way to GRIEVE DEATH."

With great reluctance, she took the five cards laid on the table and placed them in an upright position.

"Let's see if you'd rather ACCEPT the truth or live in DENIAL."

Mixed-Kester can now message Wanderer [prior to 12/31/2009]

[jarofstyles]

Illicit 10

Here we are, babes. The last official part of the main Illicit story. It’s bittersweet because I finally completed something lmao but also, I really love them and their story.

Safe to say this isn’t the last you’ll see of them. I’m fully planning on doing little flashbacks and check ins with them, feel free to let me know what you would like to see/if you have any unanswered questions. Thank you for reading!

Check out our Patreon for early access and 160+ exclusive writings

Illicit masterlist

WC- 3.3k

Warnings- mention of wounds, stitching, having children, marriage talk, nightmares, etc

——-

“Harry, for the love of god, please be careful of your arm.” Y/N winced in worry as the man carried firewood over to their fire pit. He had not been taking his injury half as seriously as he had been taking Y/N’s concussion, treating her like the ‘delicate little bird she was.’ He’d gotten an eye roll for that. Of course he wasn’t letting her help lug the wood for their night in front of the fire. She’d requested with sleepy eyes earlier in the morning to make smores because they’d been in her dream and Harry was giving her basically anything she wanted. 

“M’fine, baby.” He laughed, appreciating her concern but knowing the injury barely stung anymore. “The stitches are coming out tomorrow, and we pushed it, keeping them until then. Only kept them because you wanted me to.” 

It had been about 2 weeks since the attack and they’d left for the lake house. As much as he knew it was terrifying for the both of them, he was utterly relieved to have Katherine behind bars. He’d made sure to keep updated by his contact in the force to know what was happening with her case. Apparently she had really lost it, but Harry didn’t give a fuck. He wanted her to rot behind bars, to live miserably and have Y/N be safe without the threat of some crazy ex-who-isn’t-an-ex looming in the background. 

Harry had kept work to a minimum, only logging in to oversee the decisions he had to make. There had been no calls besides the nightly one with his COO to ensure things were running smoothly. Other than that, his entire attention had been on Y/N. They’d barely left the house considering at first Y/N had been a bit embarrassed of her injuries. Another reason he’d hate Katherine until the day he died. Harry always was one to hold grudges, he was infamous for it. She’d never know peace if the man had anything to do with it. 

They were healing incredibly well, Harry taking the time at night to set her on the bathroom counter and wipe them clean and apply the healing ointment to them. The only one that was more than a fading scab was the one on her head along with the slight discoloration the black eye had caused. Other than that, he was more than relieved to see her bouncing back. The only thing that plagued him still was the nightmare. 

His nightmares. 

They’d always start the same, almost a play by play of what had happened to him walking into the home and up the stairs- only when he got there it had been too late. In his nightmare, the knife had already taken Y/N’s life and he couldn’t do anything to save her. He always woke up before the knife struck him, but it actually hurt him. It was a little difficult for him to admit to her, always wanting to be the strong one when it came to their pairing- someone for her to lean on fully- but she had cried once he told her and insisted that she wanted to be there for him. That a partnership was made out of balance and while she could offer him some of the same things he did for her, she was more than capable to be his emotional shoulder to cry on. It had been a tough thing to come to terms with but this week seemed to be healing. Not just physically, either. 

“Ms. Greta, please tell him to take it easy.” Y/N pouted at the older woman who brought out the tray of s’more making supplies. She’d made sure to add the peanut butter cups as requested. 

“I’m afraid if he won’t listen to you, he won’t listen to anyone.” She chuckled. “Men will be men, and that includes straining their physical health for the macho man act. One day they learn we do know what we are talking about.” A little wink was sent her way as Harry huffed, arranging the wood in the fire pit with a grumble. 

“Because I’m fine.” He stressed, standing up straight and crossing his arms. “It’s healed up nicely. I’m more than capable of setting up a little fire.” Crossing over to Y/N, he stole a kiss before grabbing the lighter and a few other things. “Just sit pretty and let your man do the work, baby. I’ve got it.” 

There was a snort heard from both women but Ms. Greta was now off the clock, wishing them a good night before retreating into the house. As much as he loved having the woman around, he really was obsessed with this alone time with Y/N. There was the residual guilt he had over her being treated less than ideally because he was juggling the faux relationship and the contract, but he knew now that he was going to have to take a bit of a step back from work in order to do that. He’d delegate as he was supposed to be doing to begin with, assign more to his assistant, take Y/N more places and on more dates out in public. He couldn’t fucking wait to attent events with her and show her off. 

He’d been waiting months to let people know who his heart belonged to, and he was finally getting the chance to do so. It was obvious now since the articles had been a media frenzy over the attack, things leaked he couldn’t pinpoint. The only thing he had been commenting on was the fact that Y/N wasn’t a mistress, Katherine wasn’t his lover that was scorned, and there was no true excuse for the actions. It was a good thing in hindsight that they were there, alone. No one had a true clue about the location and he didn’t feel like being hounded by paparazzi- though hopefully they knew better now than to test him and his hatred for the cameras.

One thing that had been burning into him, though, was a question he’d been wanting to ask her. One he knew that was a bit unorthodox but a necessary one nonetheless. 

She sat across his lap, his hoodie covering her tank top and denim shorts as her legs swung slightly while they waited for the fire to burn a bit hotter so they could roast their marshmallows.

“When would you like to get married?” He asked. “And how many kids are we thinking about?” 

The girl nearly snapped her neck as she looked at him with wide eyes, the not so casual question leaving his mouth as if it was him asking what she wanted for dinner. Harry always did find a way to shock the hell out of her but this was definitely one of the top questions that had caught her off guard.  Secretly, she’d assumed Harry had that all figured out. He always made sure to let her know how much he appreciated her opinions and her thoughts, that they were important to him- but he was a planner. Harry was the man in charge and she was happy to let him be. It took a lot of weight off of her shoulders that she wouldn’t admit to anyone else actually weighed on her. 

“Uh…” She blinked at him a few times. “I’m not sure. Kinda figured you’d be the one to pop the question. But honestly… Maybe a year? A few months? I dunno.” There was a slight lump in her throat. “I’ve no doubt I want to be with you the rest of my life so part of me feels like I’d probably be fine eloping right now if that was something you wanted but… We haven't really had the chance to be a couple out in the open. While I doubt that’s going to change much considering we feel so strongly, I think it would be kind to ourselves to let us iron out some of the details first before we fully tie the knot.” There wasn’t a right or wrong answer but it still made her a little nervous to answer. “As for kids? I’m not sure. 2? 3? I’d probably say we have one first and figure it out from there.” It wasn’t like they’d have to worry about resources externally but she knew Harry valued family more than anything and he’d want to be an active father. He’d already indulged that detail to her one night when they were particularly loved up. However, neither of them had any children so they didn’t know the workload it would entail, nor did they know how they’d work as parents. Of course they’d figure it out but it would make it a bit more clear on how many they could handle.

“First of all, as much as I’d love to call you my wife right this second… I could never deprive you of the wedding you deserve.” Y/N had told him about the fact that she had always dreamt about her wedding as a little girl. She had pinterest boards full of themes and wedding dresses she’d want to try and cake designs. He wasn’t about to deprive her of those things for his selfish needs.. Harry knew he was indeed a selfish bastard in every other facet of his life, but when it came to Y/N and his soon to be family? That was his only exception. “My mum would probably keel over dead if I did that too. Trust me, you’re going to get your princess wedding.” There was no debating that. “And for kids… I’d love to give you many, many babies.” His tone turned smooth, a little smirk lighting up his face and the twinkle of his eye. “But I think I agree. My idea had been 2-4, but I’ll take as many as you’ll give me. Always.” His hand pulled her in so he could press a kiss to her cheek, muttering a soft declaration of love. 

“Love you more.” She sighed, leaning further into his chest. “I’m so happy that we can live our lives when we get back. I know it’ll probably be a little crazy but there's no more hiding. We can go out and hold hands and kiss, people are going to know we belong to each other.” The giddiness on her face was bittersweet. “I’m so excited to be with you properly.”

The tinge of guilt hit him full on in the stomach, making him frown as he looked into the fire. He knew he had fucked up several times on this journey and Y/N just had a lot of patient and given him a lot of grace when he knew for a fact most other people wouldn’t- but that made it feel a little worse. He’d been wrong in not ditching the contract immediately. “Baby?” He said, voice quieter as he met her eyes. “I’m sorry. Genuinely sorry that I’m a stubborn son of a bitch and I didn’t just dissolve the contract and take on a lawsuit. I should have done it the day I met you because I knew you were going to mean a lot to me even there. I… I know I’ve told you a lot how you were the first and only person to ever make me feel the way you do, but it’s more than that. And my hard headed shit got us into something awful. I know I fucked up and you are more generous than I deserve but…” His fingers tenderly moved the hair from her face, stroking her cool cheek. “I’m going to work every single day for the rest of my life to make it up to you. I’m going to make you the most spoiled, well traveled, happiest woman I possibly can.” His voice stayed quiet as he searched her eyes for any hint of resentment but somehow there wasn’t any there. 

“H.. I knew what I signed up for. You’d been nothing but honest with me the night I ignored you. You laid it all out for me. I knew that you were taken in name only and I liked you so much that I agreed. I never felt like I played second to her. You can say a lot of things about you, lovely, but subtle isn’t one of those things. You never made me feel like she was important. I understood how important your business was to you- it’s the most important thing to you. Did I like seeing you with her? No. But you made it so clear to me that I was yours and you were mine, I never felt like… I never had any competition.” Y/N tried to soothe the ache she knew he felt. Of course she hadn’t liked people thinking he belonged to someone else but she knew he loved her. The most she had ever been loved, the most unashamed. 

“First, I have a correction- You are the most important thing to me. I’d give it all up for you.” That wasn’t a sentence anyone could take lightly, nor one he would ever thought he would say. It used to be the truth, but now it was far from it. “You are my life.” His gaze bore into her own as he cupped her cheek.  “There was never any competition. If we want the honest truth, I thought I’d marry as a business decision. I thought I’d probably not have any kids considering I only ever wanted children out of love. I was happy working until I was gray and about to keel over. Business was my only reason for being, and it wasn’t something I minded- but you gave my life so much more, so much color, my angel.” He’d never sounded more fond in his life, looking at his heaven sent gift perched in his lap. “I didn’t realize there was more to life until I met you. You opened my eyes and made my heart soften. I give a shit about a lot more than numbers now and it’s because of you.” 

People could say he did it himself but he knew the truth. Without meeting Y/N his life would have been the same robotic function it had been since he got out of uni, and he wouldn’t have complained. He’d never know how much he would miss out on. “I thank whoever in the world sent you to me every damn day and you know m’not religious. You are my miracle. It made me feel so fucking sick walking in that house and thinking you were hurt, I have never in my life felt that sort of terror. But I’d do it all again in order to keep you.” The scar on his arm was a reminder of that. 

“I love you, H. The most in the world.” Her eyes watered a little as she smiled at him. “I’m sorry you got scared. I was scared too, scared she would do worse with that knife though I’m still upset you got hurt at all. But I’d go through every bit of it again too.” She sniffled, feeling his thumb brush under her eye as a tear fell. “I know I want everything with you. The marriage and babies and our own house with a pool, if that’s something you want too. You’re the love of my life.” 

“And you’re mine.” He mumbled, pressing his lips to hers. “M’gonna spend every day proving that to you. Just wait and see, my angel. My heart is yours.”  

—-------

Nails dug into Harry’s back as he rocked slowly into his girl in their brand new home. One he’d bought her as a surprise when they arrived back into the city, leaving their old memories behind in the other penthouse and moving on to the next chapter in the rest of their lives. 

“H-Harry…” She bleated, holding on to him while the other hand grabbed his face and pulled his face down so he could be kissed. “Thank you. You always take c-care of me.”

His pace as slow and deep, pressing in as far as he could go on the brand new sheets they’d picked out together. The sunset bled into their room as they breathed each other in, wrapped up in their covers on their first night sleeping there. He’d spared no expense making sure he got the best of the best for her. He was dedicated to the cause, dedicated to proving to her that she was the most precious thing to him in the world. 

“M’always going to take care of you, my love.” He nudged his nose against hers as he dipped his hips to get deeper inside of her. It was like they couldn’t get close enough to one another, her legs wrapped snug around his hips while he kept himself up with one hand, the other under her neck. The term making love was fully about this. It was unmistakable. “You were made for me.” 

He couldn’t wait to spend every morning like this for the rest of his life. The man who used to cringe at the idea of fucking anyone face first now had it as his preferred position, wanting to make sure he could see every second of her reactions to him. She was snug around his cock, taking him like it was her only job in the world. He’d had no problem doing only this for the rest of his life. 

“And you were… you were made for me. We’re made for each other.” Y/N nodded, pressing another open mouthed kiss to his lips as he kept the steady pace, hitting the delicious spot he always knew how to find. “You know my body perfectly. It’s yours forever.” It was both the truth and a bit of a taunt, knowing how much he loved when she spoke like that. 

“You are. You’re mine and m’all yours, never have to share me. I love you so fucking much, Y/N.” He whimpered as her fingers tangled in his hair, tugging on it as she was filled over and over again. He hit the perfect spot and was trying to get her to cum, trying to have her finish all over him so he could do the same and stay deep inside for a while. Craving this sort of closeness was an addiction, one he didn’t plan on cutting. The obsession with Y/N grew each and every day. “I can’t wait to make you my wife.”

The woman whined out his name at the last sentence, tugging him closer with her legs as she soaked up every bit of heat from him. It didn’t matter what happened, who tried to get in their way- they would always belong to one another. There was an understanding between both of them knowing this love was bone deep, soul deep, it only deepened by the day. When it felt like they couldn’t love each other more it just kept growing, no matter how full they felt. It was everything. 

A love like this was something people revered as pure, perfect, something that everyone craved and yearned for. Something out of a book or a movie, the sort of feeling that trumps all other people and situations. Their passion and yearning for one another had been cultivated in anything but pureness, it was made in the dark. It always made him laugh a little to know that such a concept had blossomed into a real, tangible thing that he could feel between their bodies, something he could see when he looked at her, something he could taste when he kissed her. 

A love that stayed between the lines wasn’t the type that grew stronger- that’s why he smiled when they called it illicit.

[andkisses]

♡ cold weather care | enha ♡

ot7!enha headcanon: cold weather activities with you <3

♡ ot7 x gn!reader | wc. 857 ♡ genres/tropes: fluff, he’s so down bad and tbh u are too ♡ mentions of/warnings: none ♡ a/n: little something for every member <3 jungwon’s and heeseung’s first and the rest below the cut ^^ inspired by the complete freezing and miserable weather im having  <33 minimally proofread lol

♡ masterlist ♡

✧･ﾟ: * jungwon - cuddles and naps

the thermometer is far too low to even think of going outside, even if the snow outside is enticing and beautiful. instead, jungwon brings all the pillows and blankets he can find out to the couch, where after moment of nearly being engulfed by said pillows and blankets, the two of you nestle down into a cacoon of warmth. you snuggle against jungwon’s chest, one of his arms wrapped around you and holding you close. the two of you mindless stroll through netflix, looking for something awful and cheesy to watch. you kiss the bottom of his jaw and relish the way he smiles, cheek crushing into his shoulder. he wouldn’t want anything else.

✧･ﾟ: * heeseung - first snow kiss

you both stay up late, peeking behind the blinds to look through the streets lights in hopes of catching the first few flakes. it isn’t until much past midnight, when you’re eyes are heavy and there’s no more games to play. one of you takes one last look outside, and the other starts throwing over coats and hats and scarfs and gloves. suddenly you’re outside, watching the fluffy white flakes fall down towards you. heeseung watches you, chest heavy with something good and romantic. he’s happy this is his life, happy you’re the one he gets to kiss delicately under a snowy night sky, lips soft and warm and smiley just for him.

✧･ﾟ: * jay - pillow forts

perhaps the both of you have taken this too seriously, but who’s to say when such an amazing pillow fort now graces the living room floor? sheets pitched like a tent with chairs from the dining table. you turned the floor into a menagerie of blankets, soft and fluffy while jay brought a carefully curated plate of snacks. you elect to catch up on the latest drama, the one that fell off because of work. as the snow pours down in white ribbons outside, you curl into jay’s side, savoring his warmth against your own. jay does the same, closing his eyes to place a kiss atop the crown of your head. how did he get so lucky?

✧･ﾟ: * jake - nighttime errands

you’re still chilly as you methodically look through the movies at your local library, trying to find something interesting and new. eventually, you grab something with a flashy cover. you check it out and prepare yourself before rushing out into the cold where jake waits. ever the gentleman, once he sees you on the way, he opens the passenger side door for you. when he asks what you picked, you tell him it’s a surprise. you laugh at his dramatic pout before leaning over the center console to press a kiss to his cool cheek. when you lean back, you can’t help but blush at his lovesick smile. you can’t contain your giggles, either, when he leans over, cupping your cheeks, and plants kisses rapid fire all over your face. you’re his favorite.

✧･ﾟ: * sunghoon - snowball fight

it begins outside, something innocent and wholesome as you and sunghoon step out to admire the snow. it coats everything in a thick blanket of white, and with one touch you realize it’s the perfect snow for make snowmen, or snow angels, or–you whip around in response to the cold hit to your back. sunghoon stands, hands in his pocket and gaze anywhere but you, acting like nothing happened. your shock quickly wears off as you ball up snow with your bare hands, hurtling it towards your unsuspecting boyfriend. it’s a short war that ends with both of you slipping and laughing at each other, noses red with cold. he’s never thought you looked more beautiful than right now.

✧･ﾟ: * sunoo - snow angels

always one for fun competition, and because he loves to see the determination on your face, sunoo bets he can create the best snow angel ever. it’s a few minutes of walking around the park by your apartment, bundled up but already feeling the bite at your nose. after, your snow angels so close their wings nearly touch, you and sunoo take time to judge. you fake gag when he calls you his snow angel. your laughter is very much real when sunoo tackles you backwards. he’s only half kidding when he says you’re a snow angel. with a laugh like that, there’s no way you aren’t heavensent.

✧･ﾟ: * niki - baking treats

they say that baking is an exact science, but you and niki have proven that might be a fallacy. the inexact amounts of sugar, salt, and vanilla you’ve added to these cookies would make a purist cry, but as you sit on the floor side by side, watching the cookies slowly rise in the oven, you have a feeling it will work. and when you taste the cookies after they’ve cooled, you share a peculiar look. they aren’t good like a bakery, but they’re still pretty tasty. as you start researching easy icing recipes, brows knit in concentration, the feeling in niki’s chest tells he’s never eaten anything better. and he wouldn’t want to share these kinds of adventures with anyone else.

[pdriesta]

a lifetime of us — 3

an —a series of blurbs from past or present, following the main couple from “a lapse of us". this chapter contains smut (minors dni)

with 24 hours left in his hometown, pedri couldn’t imagine a better way to spend it than in between your legs.

he listened to your sounds, the pleasure bouncing off the walls of your room, his face dampened not just from his own arousal but from the heat emanating from your skin. you gripped his hair tightly, trying to keep your legs apart — failing miserably each time you tightened your grip around his head.

pedri ate like you were his last meal, and to him, you were. he knew his schedule would be packed once he touched down in barcelona tomorrow, but right now, nothing mattered more than you.

you felt the usual flood of pleasure rake through your body, but that didn’t stop pedri. after coming down from your high, he kissed you passionately, prepared to hold you for as long as he could before your parents came and insisted on spending time with him.

“that was —,” you breathed out, slumping your sweaty body on top of his. “unreal. how do you get better every time?” you asked seriously.

pedri chuckled, “isn’t it obvious? you’re my favorite topic to study, all the ways i can take care of my girl.”

your face was already flushed after the 30 minutes pedri spent between your legs. however, you felt your body heat up even more at his words.

“pedri,” you groaned, feeling his lips and his body rock against yours, clothed in what he usually slept in when he stayed over.

“sí, mi vida,” (yes, my life) he replied absentmindedly, peppering kisses along your collarbone. unlike him, whose shirt had been discarded as soon as your lips met, yours remained on.

contrary to your mom’s constant nagging about pregnancies and birth control, you and pedri had never taken that step. after growing so much together over the years and entering adulthood side by side, you always assumed waiting was your best bet.

you never imagined the thoughts and worries that flooded your mind now that the boy you loved would be away for the majority of the year after moving to barcelona. he promised to come back during the summer and any international breaks, but knowing how amazing he was, you had a sneaking suspicion it would be hard to align schedules.

today, however, with pedri on top of you, tenderly kissing your body, you knew in your heart what you needed.

“pedri,” you said again, threading your hands in his hair and tugging the strands the way he liked to meet his brown eyes with yours.

“mi vida,” (my life) he said back, staring at your swollen lips, feeling proud of his handiwork before pecking your lips.

suddenly, you sat up, and he moved to sit on his feet on your bed. without saying anything, and keeping your eyes fixed on his, you removed your shirt.

watching as you tossed it over the bed, pedri was confused, to say the least.

“what’s wrong, baby? are you too hot? i can adjust the thermostat,” he offered.

“no!” you quickly replied, not wanting him to leave in his shirtless glory. your body shivered at the sight of the slick layer of sweat on his skin. he had changed and grown so much into the man in front of you, and you were in awe, feeling a bit embarrassed now that you sat in front of him in just a bra.

“no, it’s not the temperature,” you finally said, “i’m ready.”

pedri’s mind went blank. after being together for so long, he knew what those words entailed, but he just couldn’t believe it.

“r-ready?” he repeated your words, not wanting to assume. you shyly nodded in response, dropping your eyes to your duvet-covered lap.

“sí, mi corazón. quiero tener sexo. quiero que nos quitemos la virginidad mutuamente,” (yes, my heart. I want to have sex. I want us to lose our virginity to each other) you finally spoke up. you didn’t want to lose your nerve; this was your best friend. he knew you like the back of his hand. you were the love of his life, and the only future he was certain of was the one with you.

however, in this moment, he wasn’t so sure. sure, there had been times where you both almost took the next step, but something always got in the way — whether it meant annoying siblings or demanding schedules, the stars never aligned until now.

“are you sure, mi amor?” (my love) he reached for your trembling hands in your lap. you wordlessly nodded but didn’t meet his eyes, and that’s how he knew you weren’t okay.

“y/n, baby, talk to me. what is this really about?” he moved from his spot in front of you to beside you, his arm around your shoulder, bringing you into his arms. he used his free hand to grasp your chin between his fingers, making you meet his eyes.

“nothing. i just want you,” you said barely above a whisper. “i want to be close to you. i want all of you, even if this is the last time,” your voice broke at the last words.

pedri felt like he was doused with a bucket of ice water at the realization. she thinks i’ll leave her behind.

“hey, hey,” he soothed, pulling you completely onto his lap. “mi niña bonita,” (my pretty girl) he cupped the side of your face, swiping your tears away. he looked at you with so much love in his eyes that you felt even more choked up.

“do you know why i call you mi vida? it’s the perfect term for you to understand that you’re my entire world. everything i do is for you. even when it isn’t about you, it’s for you. i’ve loved you since the very first day i saw you fall onto our football pitch. i’ve loved you through everything, and i will love you through this. this is your dream as much as it’s mine.”

“te amo también, mi corazón,” (I love you too, my heart) you sniffed while wrapping your arms around his waist and burying your face in his neck. “i can’t help but think, though, you’ll find someone better, more experienced, and toss me away. you know how many women will flock to you. i don’t want you to leave and me not give you what was always yours,” you confessed.

“that’s what this is about?” he realized. “y/n, there is no one else on this planet meant for me but you. it’s never about experience because guess what? you’re my first everything. there’s no one else in the world i would ever want to be with intimately,” he ran his hands over your back.

even though pedri was shy himself, it being his first time too, he wanted to reassure you.

“are you sure? we don’t have to rush this. i’ll be back sooner than you know it,” he asked you once again.

you wrapped your arms around his neck, anchoring his body to yours. he braced himself on his elbows beside your head, making sure he didn’t crush you.

“i am sure, pedri. i want everything with you,” you said back.

this was enough for pedri to crash his lips onto yours like a madman. you moaned at the taste of yourself on his lips, and he took this as an opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth.

finally, amidst the haze and the fog of arousal, pedri pulled back. “espera, amor,” (wait, love) he breathed out, feeling his heart beating out of his chest.

“i don’t have anything, you know?” he gestured to where you ground on him through his briefs. you smiled at how shy your boyfriend was, even after all the dirty things he’d done to you.

“we don’t need any,” you replied, before registering your boyfriend’s shock.

“y/n, we can’t! i don’t want to get you pregnant. your family will kill me. hell, my family will kill me,” he quickly pulled back.

“no, no, baby,” you quickly sat up, following his movements, holding back a laugh. “you know how my mom is. she’s all about contraception and preventing accidental pregnancies. she took me to get birth control months ago. i’m safe. we’re safe,” you blushed, still feeling shy at the idea of your mom’s face while she encouraged contraception with your boyfriend.

pedri was beyond shocked now. he knew you weren’t a spontaneous person. you always thought about a million and one possible outcomes before making decisions. knowing you endured your mom’s goading to prepare for this moment was enough reassurance he needed.

“eres perfecta,” (you’re perfect) pedri murmured, meeting your lips once again, falling into you once more.

“mi vida,” (my life) he said while lining up. “esto va a doler.” (this is going to hurt.) he remembered how much you had to adjust to his mere fingers. he was shaking with fear at what might happen and all the ways he might hurt you.

“lo sé,” (I know) you nodded. “confío en ti con todo,” (I trust you with everything) you caressed his head before guiding him forward.

finally buried in you, he felt the tightness and restriction and shuddered. he looked at you, seeing the crease between your eyebrows and the pain on your face.

“mi vida,” (my life) pedri managed to let out.

“me duele,” (it hurts) you choked out, tears spilling from your eyes. if the enveloping warmth didn’t feel as good as it did, pedri would’ve pulled out right then and there, not wanting to hurt you. but after feeling you like this, there was no going back.

“lo sé, mi vida, lo sé,” (I know, my life, I know) he said, kissing your tear-streaked face. “¿qué puedo hacer para mejorar esto?” (What can I do to make this better?) he asked, desperate to ease your discomfort.

you shook your head, gripping his shoulders tightly. “solo quédate conmigo,” (just stay with me) you whispered, your voice trembling. the pain was intense, but you knew it would pass, and the idea of stopping now, of not sharing this moment with him, was unbearable.

“estoy aquí,” (I’m here) pedri murmured, brushing his lips over your forehead. he held still, giving you time to adjust, his heart aching at the sight of your tears. he wanted to take the pain away, to make this perfect for you, but all he could do was be there, holding you through it.

slowly, the pain began to subside, replaced by a dull ache that was easier to bear. you shifted slightly, and pedri took it as a sign to move, beginning to rock gently into you.

“está mejor ahora?” (Is it better now?) he asked, his voice full of concern as he watched your expression.

“sí, mejor,” yYes, better) you breathed out, a small smile tugging at your lips. the discomfort was still there, but so was something else—something deeper, more intimate, a connection that went beyond the physical.

pedri kissed you softly, his movements tender and unhurried, as if he had all the time in the world. he murmured sweet nothings against your lips, his love for you evident in every word, every touch.

“te amo,” (I love you) he whispered, his voice thick with emotion.

“te amo, pedri,” (I love you, Pedri) you replied, your heart swelling with love for the boy who was now your first in every way.

the pain continued to fade, replaced by a warmth that spread through your body, making your toes curl and your breath hitch. pedri noticed, his movements becoming slightly more confident, though he was still careful, still gentle.

“you’re so beautiful, mi vida,” he said, his voice strained as he tried to hold himself back, not wanting to rush this moment, not wanting to lose control.

you reached up, cupping his face in your hands, pulling him down for a kiss. it was messy, full of heat and desperation, and pedri groaned into your mouth, finally giving in, his hips moving more urgently now.

the discomfort was almost entirely gone, replaced by pleasure that built steadily, making you gasp and cling to him, your nails digging into his back.

“pedri,” you whimpered, overwhelmed by the intensity of it all.

pedri’s breath came in ragged gasps, his heart pounding in his chest as he moved inside you with slow, deliberate strokes. every thrust was measured, as if he was trying to commit every moment to memory. it wasn’t just about the pleasure; it was about the love he poured into each motion, the way his hands roamed your body like he was trying to memorize the feel of you beneath him.

“y/n,” he whispered, his voice filled with raw emotion. “i love you more than anything, más que todo, mi vida. you’re everything to me. please, don’t ever forget that.”

your heart clenched at the intensity in his voice, and tears welled up in your eyes again, but this time they weren’t from pain—they were from the overwhelming love you felt for him. “i won’t, pedri,” you whispered back, your voice trembling with emotion. “i love you too. so much. i don’t want you to go.”

he paused, his forehead resting against yours as he struggled to catch his breath. “i don’t want to go either,” he admitted, his voice breaking. “but i promise you, y/n, i’ll come back to you. siempre voy a volver, okay? nothing will keep me away from you.”

you nodded, swallowing hard to keep from crying. “i know, pedri. i know you will. just… don’t forget about me, okay?”

his eyes softened as he looked at you, brushing a stray tear from your cheek with his thumb. “never, mi amor,” he vowed, his voice thick with emotion. “you’re the only thing on my mind. siempre estás en mi mente y en mi corazón. you’re my world, y/n. no one could ever take your place.”

as he spoke, he began to move again, slow and gentle, his hands gripping your waist as if he was afraid you’d slip away. each thrust was filled with love, with a desperation that mirrored your own. you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer, needing to feel every inch of him, to hold him as close as possible.

“pedri,” you breathed out, your voice hitching with emotion. “te necesito. i need you, now more than ever. i want you to remember this moment, every single detail, so you know that i’m always yours.”

“i’m yours too, y/n,” he whispered back, his voice trembling as he kissed you deeply, his lips moving against yours with a fervor that made your heart ache. “completamente tuyo, siempre. nothing will ever change that.”

you moaned softly against his lips, the sound muffled as he kissed you harder, pouring every ounce of love he had into it. the rhythm of his movements quickened, but he was still careful, still trying to ensure your comfort above all else. the pleasure built between you, a slow burn that intensified with each passing second, until you felt like you were on the edge of something beautiful, something that would forever bind you to him.

“mi vida, i can’t—” he gasped, his voice raw with emotion. “i’m close, so close. i need to feel you with me. por favor, mi amor, come with me.”

his words sent a shiver down your spine, and you nodded, unable to speak as the pleasure reached its peak. your hands tightened in his hair, your nails digging into his scalp as you felt yourself unraveling beneath him.

“pedri,” you whispered, your voice breaking as you teetered on the edge. “te amo. te amo tanto.”

that was all it took. with a low groan, pedri buried his face in your neck, his body trembling as he came, his release triggering yours. you clung to him, your body arching into his as the pleasure washed over you, leaving you breathless and spent.

for a long moment, neither of you moved, both too overwhelmed by the intensity of what you had just shared. pedri’s breathing was ragged against your skin, his arms wrapped tightly around you as if he was afraid to let go.

“don’t let me go, pedri,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “please, don’t let me go.”

he pressed a soft kiss to your temple, his heart aching at the vulnerability in your voice. “never, mi vida. i’m never letting you go,” he promised, his voice thick with emotion. “no matter where i am, you’ll always be with me. en mi corazón, siempre.”

you buried your face in his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your cheek, and for the first time, you truly believed him. you knew that no matter the distance, no matter the time apart, he would always come back to you.

“i’ll wait for you,” you whispered, your voice barely above a breath, but you knew he heard you. “i’ll always wait for you, pedri.”

he held you tighter, his lips brushing against your hair as he whispered, “and i’ll always come back to you, y/n. always. you’re my home.”

and as the two of you lay there, wrapped in each other’s arms, the world outside ceased to exist. it was just you and pedri, in a moment of pure love and connection, a bond that no amount of time or distance could ever break.

you knew that tomorrow would come, and with it, the challenges of a long-distance relationship. but for now, in this quiet, stolen moment, you had everything you needed. you had pedri, and that was more than enough.

the airport was filled with the usual chaos—announcements echoing, people rushing by with luggage, and the occasional laughter from a distant group. but for you, the world had narrowed down to just one thing: saying goodbye to pedri. he was moving to barcelona to pursue his dreams, and while you were beyond proud of him, the thought of being apart was like a dull ache in your chest.

your families were there, gathered around in a small, tight-knit circle. pedri’s mom hugged him first, her eyes glistening with tears that she tried to blink away. “cuídate, mi niño,” she whispered, holding him close for a few seconds longer than usual. his dad gave him a firm, reassuring pat on the back, followed by fer, who pulled him into a brotherly embrace.

your mom was next, wrapping her arms around pedri like he was one of her own. “we’re all so proud of you,” she said, her voice warm but edged with the same sadness you felt. your dad followed, giving pedri a quick hug and a nod that conveyed more than words ever could.

caro was last, and as usual, she couldn’t resist teasing him, even in a moment like this. “now, you better watch out for those girls in barcelona,” she said, trying to keep it light but her tone carried a hint of protectiveness. “don’t let them distract you from your girl at home and your goals, okay?”

pedri chuckled, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “i promise, caro,” he replied, squeezing her hand before letting go.

rafael, still young enough to not fully grasp the gravity of the situation, gave pedri a quick hug and an innocent smile. “you’ll be back soon, right?”

“sooner than you think,” pedri assured him, ruffling his hair.

finally, it was your turn. but instead of stepping forward, you found yourself rooted to the spot, your eyes fixed on the floor. your heart was pounding, each beat echoing with the reality that this was it—he was leaving.

pedri noticed your hesitation, his gaze softening as he looked at you. “mi amor,” he called softly, his voice filled with an understanding that made your heart ache even more. “mírame, por favor.”

slowly, you lifted your eyes to meet his, finding the strength in his gaze that you desperately needed. he took a step closer, closing the distance between you two. “ven aquí,” (come here)he murmured, holding out his hand to you.

you hesitated for a moment, the lump in your throat making it hard to breathe, let alone move. but the sincerity in his voice, the way he looked at you like you were the only person in the world that mattered, made it impossible to resist. you stepped forward, slipping your hand into his, the warmth of his touch grounding you in a way that nothing else could.

“it’s going to be okay,” pedri whispered, pulling you closer until your forehead rested against his. “we’ll make this work, no matter what. i promise.”

“i know,” you managed to say, though your voice was shaky. “i just… i’m going to miss you so much.”

he tilted your chin up, his thumb brushing away the tear that slipped down your cheek. “i’m going to miss you too, more than you know,” he replied, his voice thick with emotion. “but this isn’t goodbye, okay? it’s just ‘see you later.’”

you nodded, trying to hold onto his words like a lifeline. but the reality of him leaving, of not having him by your side every day, was overwhelming. “pedri… what if—”

“shh,” he interrupted gently, pressing his lips to your forehead in a lingering kiss. “don’t think about the ‘what ifs.’ we’ve got this. i’ll call you every day, text you all the time—you’ll probably get sick of me.”

a small, shaky laugh escaped you, and you finally allowed yourself to wrap your arms around him, holding on as tightly as you could. “never,” you whispered, burying your face in the crook of his neck. “i could never get sick of you.”

he held you just as tightly, his hands stroking your back in soothing circles. for a moment, the noise of the airport faded away, leaving just the two of you in a quiet, bittersweet embrace.

finally, after what felt like both an eternity and a single heartbeat, pedri pulled back just enough to look at you. “i love you,” he said, his voice steady but filled with all the emotion he was holding back. “and nothing is going to change that. distance doesn’t matter when it comes to us.”

“i love you too,” you replied, your voice barely above a whisper. “so much.”

he smiled, the kind of smile that was meant just for you, the kind that made everything else fade away. “then that’s all that matters,” he said softly. “we’ll figure out the rest.”

before you could say anything else, his parents gently intervened, suggesting that they give you two a moment alone. with a few soft words and understanding looks, your families quietly walked away, giving you the privacy you needed for this final, heartfelt goodbye.

with the terminal now feeling strangely empty, you turned back to pedri, taking in every detail of his face as if trying to memorize it. “promise me you’ll take care of yourself,” you said, your voice thick with emotion. “and don’t forget to eat properly, and—”

“i promise,” he cut you off, a tender smile playing on his lips. “and you promise me you’ll keep smiling, okay? don’t let yourself get too sad, because i’ll be back before you know it.”

you nodded, though your heart felt heavy with the weight of the impending separation. “i’ll try,” you whispered, blinking back the tears that threatened to fall.

pedri leaned in, pressing one last, lingering kiss to your lips, his hand cupping your cheek as if to hold you there a little longer. when he finally pulled away, his eyes were filled with the same mix of sadness and determination that mirrored your own.

as you stood there, your hands lingering on his chest, pedri couldn’t resist teasing you, hoping to bring a smile back to your face. “you know,” he began, a playful glint in his eyes, “it’s funny how you’re still so shy around me, even after everything we’ve done.” he wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, and the memory of your last night together flooded back, making your cheeks flush a deep red.

“pedri,” you whined, half-embarrassed, half-amused, as you playfully swatted his chest. but the light teasing worked—your heart felt a little less heavy, and you couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at the corners of your lips.

“there it is,” he murmured, leaning in to press a quick kiss to your forehead. “that’s the smile i love. just remember that, okay? we’re going to be okay.”

with one last, fleeting touch—his fingers brushing against yours—he turned and walked toward the gate, his figure growing smaller with each step. you stood there, watching until he disappeared from sight, your heart aching with the emptiness he left behind.

but even as the tears finally fell, you clung to the hope in his words, the love in his eyes. this wasn’t the end—it was just the beginning of a new chapter. and no matter the distance, you knew your love was strong enough to bridge it.

© 2024 PDRIESTA

[nabicube]

Beginning of the Happy Ending: Prologue

Masterlist ◈ Pairings: ot8 x gender neutral atiny reader (lmk if sth isn't gn) ◈ Genre: non-romantic idol au, angst, fantasy (?), all ages (correct me if I’m wrong) ◈ Summary: In the depths of despair, your world feels like it’s crumbling around you—nothing seems to go right. The only source of light in your life, Ateez, is dimmed when your bias, San, suffers a life-threatening accident on stage. Just when it feels like there’s no reason to keep going, an otherworldly being appears with a chilling message: you have only 100 days left to live. But there’s a choice—if you wish hard enough, you can switch places with San and save him from his fate. The decision is yours, but time is running out. ◈ Warnings: Themes of depression and despair, mentions of suicidal thoughts, dysfunctional family dynamics, supernatural elements, mild violence, swearing, idk if this is a warning but brief mention of Felix from stray kids (he's my skz bias hehe) ◈ Note: This series is a non-romantic ot8 x atiny reader story leaning more heavily on San x reader because he is their bias. It will be a compilation of short episodes, rather than chapters, showing how each member would guide you through hard times in real life based on their personalities. The story is more focused on the concepts and ideas than the plot. While there will be no romantic relationships portrayed, members and the reader develop a bond that is beyond just friendship.

Prologue: The End

Word Count: 1365

All it took was a single, cutting remark from your so-called parents—a seemingly insignificant jab that shattered the last remnants of your self-worth. The final barrier holding back the tide of despair had crumbled. Everything seemed to be falling apart.

All your life, you were forced to constantly move around, leaving you with no one you would truly consider a friend. At least nobody who you feel like you can spill all of these dark feelings of yours. You were failing miserably in school, work, your personal life.

You were emotionally drained, just so exhausted. It felt as if you will never escape this hell. You didn’t know what you wanted in life, because you were taken away your will to hope for any kind of future. 

The last thing that was keeping you on earth was your love for Ateez and San, your favorite idols. They’ve helped you through the most difficult times. And now, they’re everything to you in your crumbling life. Their powerful performances, music, and kindness for atiny…they gave you a reason to live.

But then there was the constant judgment from your parents.

“You’re seriously into those idols? Aren’t you too old for that?”

“Why would you waste your time on that? Why don’t you work on your life instead?”

When they insulted them, it almost hurt worse than when they insulted you. You were used to being degraded. However, they don’t deserve to be judged when they have nothing to do with how you are failing completely in life.

But now, you were just so tired.

You posted about how you felt on social media, but as always, no one responded. Most of your followers were bots anyway.

Just as you thought things couldn’t get worse, a post flashed across your screen from one of the kpop news accounts—and the headline you saw made your heart sink.

-------

Breaking: ATEEZ's Choi San Suffers Serious On-Stage Injury During Concert

-------

No. No, No, No. This can’t be true.

Your heart pounded in your chest so fast that your whole body started trembling.

San, the idol you adored more than anything, had been in a terrible accident on stage.

Your mind spiraled into chaos. You searched frantically for updates on San’s condition on your phone, but the situation seemed dire.

Despair washed over you. The one connection you still had to this world, the one thing that gave you a reason to keep going, might be gone.

If San is gone forever from this world, what is the point of staying here alone?

Maybe this was your sign to end it all.

Your vision started blurring, and as the darkest thoughts had almost consumed your entire mind and body—out of nowhere, a reply popped up on your social media feed from an account you didn’t recognize. The icon was the default image, and the username was some kind of random combination of alphabets and numbers.

The reply, clearly directed to your username, read:

“You will die in 100 days.”

What the hell?

You were confused. It was so random, yet it seemed like this random stranger somehow knew your situation.

After the initial confusion, the anger that you did not know who to direct at started boiling up.

You were thinking of what kind of nasty things to reply.

What the fuck? Who are you even? I’ll die when I want to, not when you tell me to.

But just as you started typing, suddenly, a shiver went down your spine. You were terrified, and you had no idea why. Suddenly, you were not alone in this room anymore.

And then you saw IT. Floating in through your closed window without any noise.

Great. Now I’m hallucinating. My brain must really be breaking down.

The entity kept floating closer until it was hovering over your bed. You wanted to look away, but you couldn’t. The only thing you could do was freeze and stare at it with wide eyes.

Does this mean I’m dead? And this thing came to take my soul?

It was tall and impossibly slender, its body a mass of swirling, black tendrils that writhed and twisted like living shadows. Its form shifted in and out of focus, as if the creature wasn’t fully tethered to this world. The entire entity moved with an unnatural grace, like smoke drifting through the air, yet it carried an overwhelming presence.

But then the thing spoke. Its eerie, deep voice was terrifying yet surprisingly soothing at the same time.

“Hey, I’m the one that sent that reply.”

Kind of sounds like Felix from Stray Kids, you thought.

Wait - what the fuck did it just say?

You almost laughed, despite the fucked-up situation, just because while that line was very unlikely to come from a demon… grim reaper…shinigami? Whatever this was, it matched Felix’s voice better than Felix himself. Good choice, my hallucinating brain.

That Felix-sounding thing said slowly:

“You are completely consumed with the thought of death, aren’t you?”

You agree with that. The thing keeps going in a painfully slow, unsettling tone.

“While at it, do you want to make my job easier by switching souls with your favorite idol that’s dying? You could save him in exchange for your life, and I have one less death to deal with. Your body is going to die in 100 days, but…at least he’ll have another 100 days to live, and I get to procrastinate. You can die in his place now, or who knows, his body might survive. Even less work for me. Your choice.”

It took a while to process what it was saying. The product of your imagination seemed to be getting oddly specific and creative.

“W–What? Uh…what the actual fuck? Are you saying I can switch places with San? You’re giving me this power? Why? Why now? What’s the point?”

You can’t believe you’re starting to think this thing is real and trying to converse with it.

The thing doesn’t exactly have a face, but you somehow could sense it was irritated at your response. Its following words were spat out much faster as if it didn’t care to sound scary anymore.

“Um…did you not get the message? I’m fucking lazy. It takes like a whole day for me to process souls after a human dies, especially those by suicide. Oh, by the way…do you care to know how you’ll die in 100 days?”

The ominous character of the thing was slowly starting to fall apart into a more sluggish, human-like one.

“N—no! No, absolutely not!”

That seemed contradictory because you were going to take your life at any moment. But now, since there is a possibility that it could be the cause of death for San, you didn’t want to hear it.

“Alright, alright, I get it.” The thing says in an unserious tone.

Then suddenly, you remembered why you were panicking in the first place.

“I—I want to switch with San! How do I do it? I have to take his place before he dies!”

You were desperate. You were still not 100% confident that this was not your hallucination, but fuck it. You would do anything to save him.

“Just wish for it real hard. Then go to sleep. When you wake up, you’ll have switched.”

“How the fuck am I supposed to sleep in this situation!?” You snapped.

The thing let out a deep sigh. “Okay, whatever–Forget what I said, have a good night…” It said, floating towards the window, mumbling something to itself.

You panicked.

“W-wait! I’ll do it! I’ll try at least, so don’t go!”

The thing paused for a second, then turned your way and crossed its arms lazily, tilting its head, waiting for you to do your part.

You laid down on your side, squeezed your eyes and fists so hard that they hurt.

Breathing heavily, your mind raced, filled with nothing but thoughts of San.

His powerful yet sensual performances. His sweet, dimpled smile. His thoughtful words for atiny.

You kept thinking and thinking until exhausted from the emotional rollercoaster you had experienced, you finally managed to drift off to sleep. You were more tired than you thought.

[izunx]

Hii! Can you do a Luck fanfiction where he finds the reader crying? The reader is always cheerful and happy, but is secretly depressed. So he was surprised to see them like this.

LUCK with a depressed s/o

. In which luck finds his precious significant other crying. . warnings: depression.

✧.* luck x gn reader

Luck doesn't know where you are, which is rare. Usually by any moment right now you'd be in the black bulls lounge area chirping away at whatever antics you've been up to. But now that he thinks of it, it’s been ages since he’s last actually seen you functioning properly.

He feels funny. That feeling you get where you know just something isn't right and he hates it. He hates feeling this way especially when it's about YOU.

You were always one of the brighter ones of the squad, uplifting people when they were feeling down and discouraged. Now that he thinks of it, he doesn't think he's ever seen you get comforted but at the same time he's never seen you upset.

Is it possible for a person like you to even get upset?

The sobs he was hearing proved him otherwise though. As he walked past the hallways, he heard you. The hallways were dim but through the crack of the slightly open door he could see the bright lights shining through.

Much to his dismay, there you were sprawled out on your bed without a care in the world crying with a tub of sweets by your side.

"I don't have the energy for this Luck!" You threw one of the plushies HE got for you at him. He catches it and just looks at you in confusion. Is this real?

Because what he was seeing on your bed just couldn't be you right? Distressed and letting down all your guard, ultimately showing your tear stained face and horror blood shot eyes. It didn't just stop there either; you were gripping onto the sheets and suffocating your sobs into the pillow.

The state of your room wasn’t any better. It looked as if someone mistaken it as a rage room, it was abhorrent to say the least.

"Y/N, what's wrong?"

You simply gave him a weak frown, "Not that you’d care."

To that he just frowns. Why would you doubt him like that?

"If I didn’t care I’d be a shit boyfriend." He sat down on your bed, encouraging you to begin on letting your feelings out. But you were stubborn.

"Just why would I do that? No one takes me seriously anyways" despite saying that, you sunk your head into his shoulder, grabbing onto his shoulder. "Where did I go wrong in life, Luck?"

The grab on his shoulder became more intense; you were biting your lips harshly and hid your eyes away.

"Everyone else got so lucky with their parents! I’ve grown up miserable with them."

Luck thinks back on it, you’ve never mentioned your parents before. But he doesn’t say anything. He needs to let your feelings out first.

"Not once since I’ve come here have I received a letter from them- after ruining my life they can’t even say sorry now that I’ve done what they’ve wanted and become a magic knight?" Now you’re a mess.

Your hair was sticking onto your face and you had salty tears streaming down your pretty face, staining it.

And Luck just hugged you. Held you close and comforted you whispering sweet nothings into your ear reassuring you.

"Everyone thinks I’m incapable of being sad but God you haven’t seen the worst!" You try and get out of his grasp, still hurt from your past.

"I won’t be taken advantage of again-"

"That’s enough Y/N." Luck held your arms and looked straight into your eyes.

"Every single member in this squad appreciates you more than you think, they adore you. They admire your will to strive and encourage other people and God do I love your stubbornness in our fights. I love everything about you."

You gawked at your boyfriend. He wasn’t done though.

"and lord do I love your smile so don’t let it be sullen with your past because now in the present you’re loved a lot." He gave you one of his smirks and it just made you cry even more.

Not so much sad tears but definitely you felt just a little bit happier.

Luck wasn’t so fortunate himself and he too was on his last straw but being able to fight people stronger than him and have you by his side was enough. He hoped it could be the same for you.

"I just always feel like this Luck and I just don’t know how I’ve managed to fight like this" He again took you in his arms and took in everything.

He understood you were depressed, unhappy with how you yourself was and he heard you out. Sat there the whole night taking in what you were saying.

It’s true at times you weren’t faking that smile, you enjoyed the moments with your boyfriend a lot. You kept all his little trinkets and treasured them.

You were snug holding onto the plushie he bought you on your first date in the city. It was unreal to you. You were loved and you thought it was just surreal. You held the thought close to you and you’ve grown to appreciate that fierce boyfriend of yours.

You can get used to this. Letting your feelings out wasn’t so bad after all. And although it would take time to heal, you knew Luck would always be with you through thick and thin.

[octuscle]

The spirit of the previous owner

By the time he was in the cab, Connor had calmed down to some extent. He and his friend had had a terrible fight in their impressive apartment on Marylebone High Street. Not only had a Wedgewood plate or two been broken in the process, but his friend had almost pushed him down the stairs. Connor had loved this man more than anything. He had been his protector. And his stallion. He had felt safe in his presence. And had been fucked like he had never been fucked before. They had had good times. But now times were bad. All they did was argue, his friend made fun of Connor publicly, calling him a pussy and a faggot in front of friends. Yet it was Connor who had brought the money into the relationship. Through the successful sale of two startups he had founded, Connor had more money than he could ever use. His friend had only brought an imposing appearance and a huge cock into the relationship.

Connor had put up with it all, but now he was afraid his friend was going to seriously hurt him. He had been crying, locked in the guest bathroom of his own apartment on the phone with his best friend. And she'd been simultaneously Googling a realtor for a refuge for Connor. Even for people of Connor's budget, immediately available properties in London weren't exactly common. But his best friend had called him back after a short while to tell him that she had found something at least for the transition.

Connor hadn't packed. He'd just grabbed his coat, pocketed his wallet and keys, and walked out of the apartment. The "Yeah, fuck off you miserable faggot" that his friend yelled into the stairwell after him had certainly been heard by all the neighbors. He could no longer return to his old home.

He had never been to Brixton in his life, Connor thought to himself. And when the cab turned into the destination street, he had to swallow. Unadorned row houses, everything a bit run down. But the house the cab stopped in front of was actually the prettiest of the row. Freshly renovated, a bit disturbing was the large modern garage that had concreted over the entire front yard. But on top of the garage, as far as he could tell, was a large roof terrace.

The realtor was waiting for him in front of the house. An unpleasant fellow, nervously smoking a cigarette. Connor hated smokers. But all right now. They shook hands, the realtor opened the door and Connor entered. The first impression was good. Bright, tidy. The furnishings were new, but unimaginative from IKEA or something similar. But that could be changed. No art on the walls, but posters, some not even framed. The motifs are already good, Connor thought with a grin. Predominantly announcements of boxing fights. Pictures of crisp men. He had little love for the working class, but horny fella's they were.

The realtor began to explain when the house was from. That it would be sold fully furnished. Directly ready to move in. That there were plenty of other interested parties. That the price was a bargain. A voice inside Connor told him that was exactly what he needed right now. Connor said he agreed, if it was okay, he'd stay right here. The realtor's mouth dropped open.

Connor had emailed his financial advisor to handle everything financial with the realtor. He had taken the key and pushed the realtor out the door. This was his house now. He had never had a house to himself before. This was his castle. He took a deep breath and felt secure.

The realtor couldn't believe his luck. The house had been unsold for over a year. The previous owner had been shot in his living room. Some gangland war or something. It had taken weeks to clean up the mess. Still, all the prospective buyers had felt uncomfortable as soon as they opened the door. He himself, too. And now this slim young man with an almost feminine appearance came and bought the house. Without batting an eye. Without trading.

Connor walked through the house. It was quite spacious. There was a living-dining room with an open kitchen downstairs and a terrace with a small garden. Upstairs were two rooms and two bathrooms. One had obviously been used as a bedroom, one as a study. A man had lived here. On the walls posters with box motifs, of motorcycles. Almost no books. And the man had been sporty. In the closet were tracksuits, sports clothes made of shiny synthetic fibers, like those worn by the men on the posters. A few pairs of jeans, a couple of jackets. My God, the morning coats took up more space in his closet than his previous owner's entire wardrobe did here. But it was perfect that he had something to change into here at all.

Lastly, Connor went to the garage. It was impressive. More like a fully equipped repair garage. With three high-horsepower looking motorcycles. And with a long wall of cabinets that held motorcycle suits, leather jackets and pants, as well as mechanic overalls. Okay, so in terms of the amount of clothing, maybe there was parity after all….

While everything else in the house looked as if its previous owner had just been out exercising, on a motorcycle ride, or at the pub, the kitchen was empty. There were no pots or anything like that. Just protein powder and bars. A few bottles of water. And a few cans of beer. He was about to grab a bottle of water when a voice told him that maybe a beer was more appropriate for the occasion. He opened a can, poured himself a glass and sat down in the TV chair. After a few sips, he fell asleep.

It was already dark outside when he woke up. My God, had he had a wild dream. He had gotten into a boxing ring. And his opponent was his friend. And he had knocked him out with one punch. He couldn't get the other crap together. He took the glass of beer and drank it down in one go. Shit, it was warm and stale. And he was hungry. If he remembered correctly, there had been a kebab joint not far away at all. That was better than nothing now. He wanted to reach for his coat, but something told him that black oxfords and a brown camel hair coat didn't go with kebabs. Even though his shoes and jacket were too big, he grabbed a bomber jacket from wardrobe, slipped on a pair of sneakers, and headed out.

At first, Connor had considered eating the kebab at home. But he was really hungry and ate it right in the snack bar, standing up. And drank a beer from a can to go with it. If his sophisticated friend could see him like that. The asshole deserved a punch in the face, he thought to himself. And cringed at the thought. Although he was right. Back home, he drank another beer. That would make him tired. He had to go to bed now.

Since he hadn't found any pajamas or anything like that in the closet, Connor had slept in his underwear. And obviously he had had a very wet dream tonight. Heck, how much had he jizzed out there? The realtor had said something about a basement, hopefully he'd find a washing machine there. But now he had to pee first. "Hey, hey, hey, mate!" That hadn't been a voice inside him now. He heard a voice. "In this house, a man sits only to shit. Pissing is standing up!" Connor was transfixed. "Trust me, mate, I only want what's best for you. Now piss, jerk off your morning wood, and then get a fucking haircut. You look like a girl." Connor was way too perplexed. Besides, the voice made him horny. Powerful, masculine, but companionable. With a heavy accent. That's how the boxers on the posters had to talk. Connor cummed. But didn't hit the toilet bowl but the toilet lid. He wanted to wipe it all away with some toilet paper, but that's when the voice spoke up again. "Nah, mate! This is your house, this is your cum. If it bothers anyone, tell them to clean it up."

The voice was right, after all. He finally had to live his life. And the voice was also right about the hairstyle. Connor wanted to change some things, the haircut was a start. But who had put his clothes on the bed for him? T-shirt, jockstrap, white socks, tracksuit. And there was a message on his cell phone. With an address. And a terse text, "Ask for Stevie." The barber wasn't far away. Because he found nothing else, Connor had eaten two protein bars for breakfast. He hadn't showered. He assumed the barber would wash his hair. He grabbed his sneakers and jacket from yesterday, got dressed, and left the house. Crazy, but he felt like the shoes fit like a glove today.

Stevie was more of a Steve. A colossus who was inked all over. He didn't ask for what Connor wanted. Stevie didn't wash his hair. Stevie only did a haircut. And it took five minutes. "Eight pounds, mate," Stevie grunted, "and tomorrow at 08:00 sharp, please." Connor left the store confused. Why tomorrow? He looked in the shop window next to the barber shop. He wasn't concerned with the offers for new cell phone contracts. He was concerned with the reflection. He looked like a chav. He looked like most men who were on the street at this hour.

On the way home, Connor had done some shopping. A few convenience foods, a few cans of beer. And a few motorcycle and martial arts magazines. Once home, he went in search of the washing machine. The entrance to the basement had been moved to the garage after the house was remodeled. And yes, there was a laundry room in the basement. Also, a storage room. But most importantly, there was the basement room under the garage. He had expected a lot of things. But not a darkroom. Fully equipped with sling and St. Andrew's cross. And most of all, with a jail cell.

There had been no net in the basement. When he got back upstairs, he had ten missed calls. His friend. He turned off the cell phone. Still, he heard a phone ring. The ringing came from the jacket he had just put on. There was a cell phone and an anonymous caller. He picked it up. And the voice told him that he could use this phone for now.

Connor took the phone, sat down in the living room, and inspected the phone thoroughly. A carelessly maintained address book. Stevie, after all, he already knew. Otherwise, mostly just abbreviated first names or cryptic ones like "Weed" or "Ink." And under Connor was his own number. Nothing surprised him anymore. Although it was actually maybe a little early, he grabbed a beer and flipped through the magazines. Fuck, they were already hot fella's. Both the lads in the leather suits and the mixed martial arts fighters. Connor jerked off more than once. It made him even more horny to cum on his torso and rub the jizz in. Hell, he had all the choices here, why didn't he put on some of the clothes here to jerk off. He tried on racing suits, boxers and mechanic overalls. Every outfit made him horny. In all of them he cummed. By now it was dark again. The house looked like a battlefield. Clothes were lying around everywhere. He himself was encrusted by the many cum. And still not showered. Then he got a WhatsApp message. From a Nick. With a location. And whether he would like to have a beer. The location was quite a distance away. But why not? He was about to call a cab when the voice came on. How many more motorcycles did he need? He was supposed to get around like a man. Hell, yes! Motorcycles were his world. So Connor put on a suit that went well with the bright red Ducati, grabbed his boots, gloves and helmet and took off.

It had been a great evening with the lads. But keeping Stevie waiting was unwise, Connor thought to himself. As he pissed, he wondered if he hadn't been circumcised. But the massive cock he held in his hands was not. He spread half of his piss on the toilet seat. Fuck, it was his piss. Even if the way to Stevie was short, he took his neon green Kawasaki Ninja for it. Today Stevie took more time and shaved bald in the sides and neck. It looked really good. Connor slipped Stevie 20 pounds, said goodbye to the lads and left the store. Shit, he didn't have any cigarettes with him. So he went to the next store, bought some cigarettes and a lighter and lit a cigarette on the next park bench. While doing so, he checked his cell phone. He still had a number of unread messages. But one was brand new: "Mate, workout at 10:00?" "Sure thing," Connor replied. He got on his bike and intuitively rode to his boxing center.

Sure Connor was a lightweight. But he worked out hard with his trainer. And technically, he wasn't bad at all. After two hours, the two were through. Connor went back to the weights for two more hours. His dream was to build mass. He never wanted to be pushed around by anyone ever again.

So slowly a new routine came into his life. Get up at 06:00, run for an hour, visit Stevie, work out. And in the evenings, roaming the pubs with the lads. Maybe with an occasional fuck in the loo. His body was developing very neatly. He'd persuaded one of the lads from the kebab shop to clean up his mess three times a week while he was out working out. Marylebone High Street was a long way away. Just as he was sitting at Stevie's one morning, he got a message. "Appointment today at 4:00 pm." The sender was Ink. He looked in the address book. Yes, there was an address listed. So he headed there after practice. Damn, why hadn't the idea come to him himself and much earlier. He was the only one of his mates without a tattoo. For a start, a full sleave was quite a good project. At least for the next few days he now had a few new appointments in his calendar.

When the inking of his arm was done, he stood in front of the mirror in the morning after taking a piss. He really liked what he saw. He saw a man who fit the house. And the house fit him. While sitting with Stevie, it occurred to him to check the voicemail on his old cell phone. His financial advisor had told him that everything was taken care of. The house was paid for and his friend's existing powers of attorney had been cancelled. Some messages were from his best friend. He wrote her a message telling her not to worry, he just needed some extended time off. And many messages were from his friend. First nasty abuse, then eventually begging and pleading. Sure, without Connor's money he was nothing. Connor sent a message with his new address "Tomorrow at 8:00 pm." He awaited his friend leaning against the window frame. The T-shirt showed off his new tattoos well. With his hands deep in the pockets of his workout pants, Connor massaged his cock. And down in his darkroom, a couple of his buddies were waiting with bulging bladders for the new piss pig to move into the cell.

[kelin-is-writing]

slowly creeps around corner

i come with more angst >:)

so we've already established what it would be like if dabi is scared of touching you for various reasons but what if you are scared of touching him?

ofc you don't think the scars are gross or anything - you would never - but you can tell that he's in pain. he tries to hide it as much as possible but you notice anyway.

the way he wears loose-fitting clothes to prevent them from rubbing against the burnt skin and how he sometimes flinches when he accidentally touches smt on a bad day

so you avoid touching him bc you're scared it'll hurt him and dabi completely misinterprets your actions and assumes you think he's disgusting

when he finally confronts you about it (he's lowkey trying to break up with you to spare himself the pain of getting dumped by you) our poor baby might actually cry when you finally tell him why you do it :')

that's it. sry my asks are so sad lately lol 🧍

- 🥛

damn milk... you were seriously coming through with these angst asks like— why would you want to hurt me like this is truly beyond me...

like... you had noticed that recently, because the amount of times he had overexerted himself, by using his quirk, and that has made you worry to the point you sometimes couldn’t sleep well at night, thinking about how much in pain he might be.

so one day when you came across him, you right away walked up to the raven haired boy ready to hug him but remembering how only yesterday you overheard him hiss in pain as he changed into clean clothes, you stopped on your tracks right away and dabi would be so taken aback at seeing that you were about to put your hand on his neck but stopped midway with your hand stretched out, eyes full of panic fixed on him and an awkward smile petrified on your face before backing away with a little “hey...”, he starts to get super paranoid, thinking you’re disgusted at the idea of touching his scarred skin; his heart sunk at the thought of such a scenario, but nevertheless he acted like he hasn’t noticed your hesitation and instead of giving you the usual hug when you come to him, he just gave you a knowing bittersweet smile before brushing past you, leaving you behind, confused by such an action.

since you’ve noticed how that whole week he’s been in huge pain because of his scars seen the increasing amount of missions there has been recently and also the weather being a bitch, definitely taking a tool on him, you kept your distances for his sake but still staying near him.

that wasn’t enough for dabi though, because he didn’t only need you close to him... he needed to feel you close to him and right now to the arsonist you felt more far than you’ve ever been, even more than before you two started dating; your absence made him feel miserable, weak and lost, but he also understood (well... not really...) why you wouldn’t want to touch him. his rough greasy scars must’ve felt gross to touch and look at after all, so he couldn’t really blame you for not wanting to even brush against it, but it still hurt so fucking much because it was you and only in that moment dabi has realized how much important you were to him to the point he couldn’t breath when you weren’t by his side and that was dangerous, he wasn’t supposed to depend on someone so much and you deserved someone better in his opinion.

someone who would help you provide the bare minimum to survive, who wouldn’t put you in danger only because the two of you were together, who you wouldn’t be disgusted to touch, who could make you actually happy. and that someone, unfortunately, wasn’t him, because he’s a villain who has committed mass murder and is wanted across all of japan.

your life with him would be miserable, that’s why he ultimately decided to let you go, for both of your sakes.

so one day after he came back from another mission, and you went to welcome him, dabi waited for the others to be far from the hearing range before asking if he could talk to you about something important. feeling suddenly anxious, seen his face and tone, you muttered a small “sure...” following him into his room where he made you sit on his bed while the villain stood with his back resting against the door, hands in the pockets of his jeans and head hung low to hide the pained expression he had on “i’ve been thinking about this for a while now... i was a little hesitant at the beginning because you’re so damn important to me, but this is going to be for the best...”, were you tripping or was this speech leading to a... break-up?!

when you realized it, you jumped on your feets right away glaring at dabi upset and already on the verge of tears “no.”, he stopped talking looking your way like a lost puppy, sad eyes glancing into yours “don’t do this dabi.”, that was the first time you called his name so harshly and it made him widen his eyes for a brief second before he averted them, pointing the downwards, not able to hold eye contact with you any longer than he already did “why are we even having this talk in first place? i don’t understand...”, you questioned clenching tightly your fists resting long your sides, view becoming blurry as tears were starting to come up, you were so confused, disoriented and scared it was making you feel dizzy “you don’t understand? when you’ve been the one putting distances between us, out of no-fucking-where?”, dabi vented out never looking at you in the eyes, afraid he might waver the moment he locked gaze with you, you were the only one to ever make him hesitate and that was scaring the shit out of him.

you looked at him blinking furiously, confused as seconds went by, trying to understand what he was on about. when ever did you put distances between you and him? you weren’t understanding a thing about what he was saying “wait a moment, when did i ever put distances between us?”, you questioned resting an hand at the side of your head and lifting one up in front of you, to signal the boy to stop talking for a second because your brain just blew up from all that situation, before looking at dabi quizzically. he curled his lips turning away from you, bitter expression on his pretty face as he spoke “there’s no need for you to act clueless, i know you’re disgusted by my scars...”, the boy spat coldly, jaw clenching as soon as he finished what he had to say; damn... saying it out loud hurts even more than just thinking about it.

you were flabbergasted, to say the least, at hearing what he was saying “say what now?! i’m not disgusted by your scars though?!”, he let out a sarcastic snort before glaring you from the edge of his eye “don’t fucking lie to my face y/n.”, dabi growled between gritted teethes, making you whince surprised by the way he spoke to you, clicking his tongue as his eyes looked away from you, already feeling bad and guilty for talking that way to you; he just hates liars with burning passion though and maybe this was for the better, he could use it to push you away from him so you could let go of each others more easily.

pressing your lips together in frustration, you stomp heavily towards him and cup his face to force dabi to turn your way, eyes looking firmly into his cerulean ones “i’m telling you the fucking truth dabi.”, he’s taken aback by the confidence in your voice and the intensity of your gaze “i love you and your scars, so i better not hear you say such nonsense anymore.”, and as per usual, it took dabi only a few words from you to easily make his convictions waver.

the raven haired villain pressed his trembling lips together swallowing thickly, then his hands rested over yours, an anguish feeling in the pit of his stomach as he looked at you with sad eyes “then why have you stopped touching me?”, the weakness and desperation with which dabi asked that question was so new to you, it made your heart sunk more though the way he had seemed so hopeless until now, like he was waiting for you to leave him and never look back “i miss you so fucking much princess...”, he whined with deep hoarse voice closing his fingers around your hand while leaning into your touch and turning his face to press his lips against your palm, kissing it with so much longing and yearning that all together with his words made you short-circuit as your heart skipped a beat before jumping up to your throat.

completely weakened by dabi’s current state you went for it and surrounded his bust with your free hand hugging your man tightly, surprising him “i miss you too pretty boy...”, at those words his heart fluttered even though he felt anything but pretty, still... when you called him that dabi couldn’t help get swayed, his free arm going to surround your waist and hug you even closer, if it was possible “i didn’t touch you because i was afraid of hurting you... you seemed so much in pain these days, i didn’t want to add to it...”, you confessed in a small voice, feeling tears prickling at your eyes as you buried your face against the crook of his neck, feeling right away reassured and happy to finally be back where you belonged, his lips parting from your palm and going to rest on your cheekbone “there’s no need for you to be afraid of hurting me, your touch and presence is everything i need to feel better...”, before kissing it lovingly as his hand went to rest on the crook of your neck, thumb brushing against your cheek tenderly “you just have to stay by my side.”, and his lips slid down to yours pressing against them longer than usual before he angled his head to interlock them with one another, tongue licking slightly your bottom lip sneaking inside your mouth to deepen the kiss.

dabi has been away from you a little too much, it was seriously crazy how much he had missed to feel you this close to him and as of now he can’t believe he had actually pondered about letting you go, when he needs you much more than he has ever thought he would have.

when you two parted your lips curled up in an happy smile, hands cupping his cheeks as you set your loving gaze into his completely lovestruck one “don’t worry, there’s no way i’m leaving you.”, and that’s everything dabi needs to hear before he goes to kiss you once again, mover fervently this time.

and you can bet that’s going to be a veeeery long night for you lovebirds 😚

[kuroneko1815]

Shatter me with a kiss or spare me my heart

Welcome to another instalment of El’s bedtime stories. This didn’t work and she proceeded to remain awake for another two or three hours. Anyway, this was based on the Descendants 3 song ‘one kiss’ that she sent me, so I guess kind of sleeping beauty. @eloise175 please go to sleep on time, or at least pretend to sleep after I send you a ficlet.

Penelope stared at Callisto, sleeping peacefully and deeply. Too deeply that it was unnerving. One would think he was dead. With the slow breaths he took, his pale countenance, and the slow beat of his heart. She was unused to such a quiet and still Prince. If anything, he was how she often wished him to be when he vexed her so.

‘Twas a curse from one of his enemies, they declared. Though she knew it was none other than his wretched, miserable, shrivelled up old stepmother who had long since chased away the emperor from her bed with her odious looks and personality that had caused this curse.

They all thought their relationship to be false and full of artifice, as though they had only put on a show. But she knew her feelings ran deep, as the saying goes ‘the course of true love never did run smooth’ or something of the sort. And Penelope loved him, loved her handsome, valiant, gentle, magnificently irritating lover of a dragon prince to the very depths of her soul and more. She would kiss him awake if only she knew it would work. If only she had any certainty that he felt even the barest of feelings for her other than amusement and fondness.

If he felt even the tiniest bit the way she had, she would kiss him true and break this curse. For surely her love would be enough to fill up what love lacked from him? But she was afraid to find out, to know, that she was nothing more than a whim and a moment in his life.

Outside those doors she knew Sir Porter waited to see his liege awake. She could walk out and lie, say that it didn’t work and let him sleep on forevermore, let her live with the delusion that he loved her and all she needed to do was gather her courage.

Or she could kiss him now. She could shatter it all, her delusions and her heart and kiss him to put an end to this farce and walk away from him and everything that reminded her of him. Let some other woman try their chance at being his true love, let her kiss be what woke him, her love be what healed the man broken by war and death.

She tried to imagine living her life in that delusion, that uncertainty always looming over her, that what if? Even if she walked away, she would never move on unless she knew. A broken heart she may have after this, she decided as she leaned closer, but at least she would have closure. Let this be the last then. “I love you, Callisto Regulus.” She said as she gathered what love she had in her for him, this insurmountably vast ocean whose depths were untold, fathoms and leagues unmeasured and unexplored, and put it all into one gentle kiss as she let what sadness linger in her eyes and heart, let a tear or two fall as she pulled away from her unresponsive prince.

So that was it then. She straightened herself. “Goodbye.”

And just as she’d walked two steps, a hand reached out and pulled her back, down she fell on to the bed and onto his chest, stunned and dazed as she looked at those piercing red eyes of the man who held her tenderly.

“And where were you to go, Princess?” He asked, voice hoarse from sleep and disuse. It had taken days for her to get the message and rush to his side after all. “I’d not given you permission to leave.”

“Your highness! You’re awake!” She cried happily, arms lacing around his neck. It mattered not that he couldn’t say it. Not yet at least. For she at least knew what he felt for her with the breaking of the curse.

Seriously though, if you have any idea how many plot bunnies, WIPs, and half finished chapters, stories, or instalments I have, you’d understand why I haven’t posted anything big recently. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this. Stay healthy and safe everyone.

[winterillustrates]

OKAY

I got an AU idea!!

Nice NRC AU

Yuu(s) (in my au, they are three Yuus, but you can make one Yuu)? Absolute menaces. Single handedly cause the nicest people to crack and make them overblot. That's what the school says, at least. Is that truly what goes on?

Crowley? A very nice and gracious principal who denied himself of a holiday to find a way to get Yuu(s) back home. Often tries to help the Yuu(s) but they claim they do not need his help, so he often tries using subtle methods to earn their trust. He often acts like a supportive father of teenage rebels.

Grim? Just a poor innocent stray cat (his words, not Yuu(s)'. They, along with practically everyone else, knows he's a monster but just call him a cat cause it makes him happy) that kindly asked the Principal to enter, and because of his potential, he got in! Often serves as the moral pet of Yuu(s), being their angel on their shoulder (sometimes) and self-proclaimed familiar. He is also quite the attention seeker.

Ace? Total Goody-two-shoes who acts like a helpful guide to Yuu. Would not harm a fly. COULD NOT harm a fly. Very affectionate towards his friends, and is never afraid to speak his mind, especially when someone is in danger. But...he sort of knows when to shut up and let Yuu(s) handle it. Finds the unfiltered truth to be the kindest thing anyone could do.

Deuce? Former nerd trying to learn to grow some backbone from Yuu(s). Trying to look a little more delinquent and a lot less nerdy with frequent exercises. Never wants to be the butt of jokes, ever again, so he's very defensive, often making fun of other people before they can make fun of him (most noticeably the first time he met Ace and Ramshackle). Absolute mama's boy. His tech skills are actually very impressive. It's a wonder why he's not in Ighnihyde.

Riddle? Just trying to prove to his mother that people don't need rules to have a happy, successful life! Failed miserably. Heartslaybul is a mess and he never wants to force anyone to do anything, so people don't take him too seriously, most of the time. Seen as a 'weak link'. Too obsessed with trying to not be like his mother that he forgot who he actually wanted to be.

Chenya? Sadistic and an absolute riot. Pranking poor innocent NRC students, causing them trauma. people are too scared of him to call him a bully and downplay his actions to 'prankster'. Most noticeably Riddle, his most frequent victim.

Ruggie? Just a shy guy who overworks himself to the bone and is used to being stepped/walked over. Takes backbone lessons from Yuu(s).

Leona? Sorta...slow? Yeah, that's the word for it. But he's a great leader! Real nice guy who's taken Ruggie under his wing. He'd definitely be perfect if he didn't keep failing his exams. Does he really want to graduate, though?

Floyd? Impulsive and just wants to have fun. Has a...working moral compass...Would not intentionally kill someone.

Kalim? Very sociable, but boy does he fail in his classes. He makes up for it with his streetsmart, though! Knows almost everyone's secrets/gossip. Everyone is a suspect to him, so he does not particularly care about who his friend is and who is not. Constantly sees himself as a victim (people constantly acting like he is does not help with this complex) and is very self centered but insecure. The only person that has never betrayed him is Jamil, and he knows exactly why. But he can't help but want to clip his wings off, anytime he thinks of escaping. Kalim can't be alone. He deserves to, but he can't.

Jamil? Very anti-social. Does not interact with people much and prefers to be in silence. When he does interact with people, he is very, unapologetically blunt and honest. Got a new hat? He will tell you it looks stupid. This makes him disliked generally by people who are not close to him. Despite his anti-social behavior, he is quite optimistic about the future and is honest with his endeavors to finally become good enough to be Kalim's right-hand man. Is he as honest with himself as he'd like to be, though?

Vil? 2nd best, as usual, of course. Takes it with grace and considers Neige to be one of his closest friends. Is that popular, but nice girl everyone loves. He loves giving his dorm members makeovers and spa days. He holds his tongue a lot, though. Always sugar coating his words to make them more likely to be listened to. He is never above using his charm to stop a fight or two with just a flutter of his eyelashes. If only it was that easy to get rid of the green-eyed monster tearing apart his soul.

Rook? Hunter of beauty, of course. Ready to defend beauty, even if it means he has to get his hands dirty. People fear him because no one wants to be on the receiving end of that arrow, or his attention. Vil is trying to make him a bit more...likeable. Finds beauty to be rare and is extremely critical towards people. Often finds beauty to be in the tragic, yet romantic things. Like an actor loved by all but would not hesitate to throw that all away for their selfish desires.

Neige? Innocent little guy! People think he's just some dumb, oblivious actor, but his parents' death taught him a lot, actually. Life is cruel. Hard. No one is going to care if you don't make them to. Some people are born lucky. They get a head start. But, God, does it bring twisted satisfaction to be crowned 1st in front of the 2nd, once more. Some might assume that he's selfish and mean, but how bad could he be if his hands are 'clean'?

Idia? As anti-social as ever, thanks for asking. Always trying to make new friends, but always backing out at the last moment. Uses his security cameras to spy on people, watching them like a soap opera, so he knows quite a lot about almost everyone. Really wants to have new friends, but people often see his gloomy behavior as intimidating. Still into anime, music groups and video games, as it's the only place he can truly feel part of something. Yuu(s) have actually become his...'favorite character'. Years of isolation and a robot of his dead brother club is not exactly full at the moment.

Ortho? If looks could kill, you'd be dancing on stage with your favorite living band. But since he can actually kill, I'd suggest to never mess with his brother. He seems very strict and often is the one calling the shots in Ighnihyde, but if you become close to him, he'll display a helpful attitude towards you, always trying to help you reach your goals and is there right by your side. No wonder Idia depends so much on him. And if you're a loner trying to make a friend, well, you have a soft spot in his 'heart'.

Sebek? "HUMAN!!" oh no "YOU CAN'T BE WALKING AROUND IN THE SNOW WEARING ONLY ONE JACKET!! TAKE MINE! YOU HUMANS CAN BE SO SUSCEPTIBLE TO THE COLD!" And that's him on a bad day. Always ready to protect Malleus with his life but has a soft spot in his heart for humans. He does seem humans as inferior, and is always sort of babying them, offering to fight instead of them, despite how capable they have proven themselves to be. This often makes Sebek believe that he is the most capable in the room and he is quite smug about it. This makes him labeled as a 'Teacher's Pet' amongst the first years.

AND LIKE ALL THE OVERBLOTS HAPPEN CAUSE THE YUU(S) CONSTANTLY TRY AND ADD A BIT MORE "FLAVOR" TO THIS BORING SCHOOL WHICH UNKNOWINGLY MAKE THEM LIKEABLE AMONG THE MAIN CAST!!

LIKE RIDDLE FINALLY SNAPPING AND USING HIS MAIN MAGIC ON ALL THE UNRULY STUDENTS, MAINLY BECAUSE OF THE YUU(S) TAUNTING, ONLY FOR HIM TO OVERBLOT. THEN WHEN THEY SAVE HIM, HE'S LIKE, "Thank you, actually. I suppose there was at least some truth to my mother's words and the rest of the truth was outside her words." AND YTHEY ARE ALL LIKE "Huh?" AND THEN BRO FAINTS LIKE THAT. AND THEN IN THE NEXT CHAPTERS RIDDLE IS JUST TRYING TO WALK THE FINE LINE BETWEEN AUTHORITATIVE AND FRIENDLY.

SO, DESPITE THE YUU(S) NOT WANTING TO, THEY JUST MAKE PEOPLE BETTER AND ARE THE THERAPISTS OF THE SCHOOL.

[until-another-one-comes]

Additional serial killer Francis headcanons part 6 tw for mental illnesses, murder, suicide, organs and a rotting corpse

Francis willingly works overtime not just because he doesn’t have anything better to do, it’s because he’s punishing himself. He wonders why he was ever born in the first place. For a person as deplorable and irredeemable as he is, he feels like he doesn’t deserve to enjoy life or find anything he likes.

Sometimes he steals an organ from one of his victims (e.g their heart, liver, stomach) to make it seem like a doppelgänger has eaten their organs. He’d wrap the organs up in a newspaper and keep it in his fridge for a couple of days before disposing them, either by burying it in some other place or grinding them up and throwing it away in the trash.

This is also just a general headcanon but a Francis has chronic insomnia due to staying up all night from his childhood abuse. This caused him to not get enough sleep as an adult. He became a light sleeper as he can only sleep for 4 hours before going to work again.

He always uses a different knife when he’s out to kill. Not his kitchen knives because he doesn’t want to contaminate themselves he’d get it from his victim’s kitchen or get himself a new set.

Francis’s room is very bare and minimalist. In fact, it looks borderline depressing. He doesn’t see the point in decorating it because his home is only a place where he can stay in and sleep.

He doesn’t celebrate his own birthday because a) he doesn’t see the point since it feels like every other day and b) his birthday is a reminder that he was born into this cruel miserable world.

Francis knows how to cook for himself. He’s decent at it since he only views it as a skill needed to survive since he had to grow up too fast in an abusive environment. He helped his mother in the kitchen when she was young and she taught him how to cook. It was quite a pleasant memory for him, at least when she didn’t turn abusive to him. The dishes he would make would be soup because it’s the easiest. He does put salt and pepper on his chicken but that’s it. He eats take out if he’s too busy but he prefers not to dine in at a restaurant because he hates being surrounded by people.

Francis can be manipulative if he needs to. When confronted with evidence that leads up to him, he’s pretty smart at gaslighting, “how do you know that knife belongs to me. It doesn’t have any fingerprints. And it’s not from my kitchen. You must be making a mistake here.”

Speaking of which, Francis wears gloves when committing his murders for obvious reasons.

Francis also doesn’t laugh. But when he does, it’s the most deranged, psychotic, demented, Yandere type laugh you’ll ever hear but that’s only when he’s at his breaking point or if he’s found guilty.

Francis feels at peace the most when he sleeps. It feels like the world isn’t out to get him anymore. One day, he dreams he can sleep forever and never wake up.

He has a plethora of undiagnosed mental illnesses such as PTSD and such. Unfortunately since it’s the 1950s, mental health wasn’t taken seriously and Francis hates opening up to a therapist so that’s why he leaves his mental health unchecked.

After crying too often in his childhood, Francis became prone to numbing his emotions after he had gone insane. But that doesn’t mean he’s immune to them. This is a new ending I will make where Francis finally takes his own life. As he grows older to his 40s, Francis’s mental health will decline tremendously due to the stress of his work, his unchecked mental illnesses and due to suppressing his emotions too much. He refuses to let himself cry or be happy anymore. It got so bad to the point where all his emotions flooded his heart at once that Francis had the largest mental breakdown in his life. He hates himself, he hates that he was ever born, he doesn’t wanna live anymore.

Francis will kill himself either by jumping off the apartment building or stabbing himself in his heart. If we go by the first option, Francis feels no fear from jumping off a high building. As his body hits the ground, Nacha will be the one to come across his corpse. She’ll cry for help and everyone will be in jeopardy when they see his body.

If we go by the second option, Francis’s body won’t be found until a few days later. A rotting smell will come from his apartment that will bother the residents of the third floor. Steven and Mclooy will be the first to find his body as they recognise the smell of a rotting corpse as they fought in the war. As soon as everyone finds Francis’s body, everyone in the building will be panicking over the sight of his rotting body.

No matter how Francis dies, nobody would come to his funeral and he’ll die all alone. Everyone will forget him and he’ll be buried in the most barren, coldest desolate place in the graveyard. Nacha and Amastacha might come to his funeral but that’s only a possibility.

(nothing much to add, other than I have the same cooking hc)

[asha-mage]

Something I've been thinking about a lot as I play my current Sims 4 legacy challenge is how a lot of the negative criticism about The Sims 4 being to easy comes from critics and reviewers taking mechanics and even whole expansions in isolation, which is not really how the game is asking you to play it.

If you focus on any one specific aspect of TS4 to the exclusion of everything else it is in fact, a pretty easy game. But if you are trying to tell a story or allow one to naturally evolve, you are never going to be focusing on just one part of the game.

For example, in my current game I have four sims- two adults two children. Just juggling their needs and keeping everyone alive is not terribly difficult, but every layer beyond that you go it gets more and more challenging. As a result of my founder Sim picking the hot headed bad boy instead of the more stable family man (a choice made as a result of being more attracted to Bad Boy) the parents have a Unpredictable romantic dynamic and a Strained family dynamic, which means their pink and green bars are in a near constant state of free fall and it takes a lot of concentrated effort to keep them from fighting all the time and being miserable any time their around each other. They can't get a divorce though: because I need both their incomes and because it will get substantially harder to raise the kids in a one parent house hold, so instead their trapped in this endless cycle of me intervening to send them on a date to fix their shitty relationship and remember their each other's soulmates, being fine for a while, then slowly growing more and more miserable and unhappy with each other as they start fighting constantly, until I step in again, and save their relationship, again. I could just send them to relationship concealing fix all this but that takes money they do not have and it wouldn't be worth setting aside because this is ultimately cheaper (seriously, counseling costs like a thousand dollars per session and my criminal husband is taking home 170ish a paycheck!).

Meanwhile you have the kids. One just started being a teenager and that means she's constantly getting asked to do things, go places, and have those typical Important Teenage Experiences (board walk, sports day, career fair, prom, prom after party, etc). Again on it's own it wouldn't be to bad, but I have to pick and choose what high school experiences for her to have very carefully because I can't consonantly be tabbing away from my home lot to follow her and make sure she's getting the Most Out of Her Teen Years since that might mean her parents digging a relationship hole I'll never get them out of, or her toddler little brother's needs getting incredibly out of wack. I misjudged this balance initially because she got a Fear of Unfulfilled Dreams and she would often fall into an ennui doom spiral of bad moodlets related to her not missing out on life despite being like 16 (honestly? millennial icon). These bad moodlets where getting in the way of her socializing and school progress so I had to have her conquer that fear (it's own lengthy process) in order to get back on track. At the same time her little brother being first in infant and then a toddler, needs constant supervision and care from his parents- he can't go anywhere or do anything on his own, and if I let his needs slip to far away he's going to get yanked by social services, which absolutely can not happen because he's the heir to this challenge and since he's sister isn't a spellcaster I don't have backup plan for the next generation if he gets taken.

Did I mention yet that this is largely a spellcaster household? Cause see the overarching story line I'm going for is the rise (and possible fall) of a family of spell casters over several generations. And you might be thinking 'surely having phenomenal cosmic power makes all this easier' and you would be wrong. I frequently set things on fire when trying to magically repair them, overload on magical charge, and have to deal with my og Sim being cursed with everything from higher spell failure rates to being stalked by evil spirits. The curses especially are wild because in my efforts to Decrusify myself I ended up with a completely different unrelated curse from overloading during the spell. I can't just stop using magic either because it's my main sim's Aspiration meaning I need to keep grinding out those spell caster experience points- which leaves me in this feedback loop of trying to solve every problem with magic, it going horribly awry, needing more magic to dig myself out of the resulting hole, and that going horribly awry.

Honestly the only advantage of being a spell caster has been being able to make huge batches of chili in my cauldron and just leaving it there for family members to eat from when their on the go, since cauldron chili never expires. It's saved me tons of time that would otherwise be spent cooking meals, which has been a huge help since Everything Is Happening All of the Time.

All this to say is that while I understand where the complaints of The Sims 4 being to easy, I think it's a problem of framing rather then with the game itself. If you just set out to tell a story and then let it naturally evolve and twist, you'll find plenty of challenge- as each layer of the game adds it's own plate you have to keep spinning if you want to avoid peeing yourself in the street during an existential crisis.

[noodle-shenaniganery]

Hello, world. I had a story idea about two gay autistic people, and I figured I might as well share it on the gay autistic people website.

Alright. So:

1. The first character I want to talk about is Nolan. He is diagnosed with autism spectrum disorder and cerebral palsy (and potentially other stuff but that’s the main two). Nolan has mid-high support needs, is very minimally verbal, is an almost-full-time wheelchair user, and is not intellectually disabled (he actually has a slightly higher IQ than normal), although he is assumed to be by most people around him. He also has dark skin (he’s probably Black but it’s not as relevant to the story so I haven’t fully decided).

Nolan’s main issue is that he is tired of not being taken seriously by the people around him. He is constantly infantilized and even though he is almost an adult at the time of the main plot, he is treated like a toddler by the vast majority of people around him.

His parents, who are white and adopted him when he was very young (they have a little bit of a savior complex about it), are rather overbearing and don’t take well to any attempts by Nolan to communicate that, while he knows he needs a lot of help, he also needs space and to be allowed to be his own person. Overall, though, he’s kind of given up on trying to establish any control over his own life when the story starts.

2. The second character I want to talk about is Anthony. He is also autistic and also has ASPD, but was incorrectly diagnosed with only ADHD. He is white, able-bodied, and is seen as a “troublemaker” by the teachers at his school. He either has already been to juvie before or is treated as though he will.

His parents are emotionally neglectful and his family has a history of substance use issues. They are on the poorer side of the socioeconomic spectrum in comparison with most other families that have children which attend Anthony’s school.

Anthony feels like he is being “held back” by the people (and especially adults) around him. People don’t really give him the chance to prove himself, so he just kind of goes with the stereotypes and tries to pretend he doesn’t care. He’s always had issues with doing and understanding things, but was never really helped.

Nolan and Anthony go to the same school. They meet—most likely through a school program aiming to “socialize the disabled students”—and end up connecting with each other. They kind of bond over feeling misunderstood by other people. Over the course of the story, they grow to rely on each other a lot.

Anthony pretends to be a “goodie two-shoes” kid who is trying to be nice to Nolan by hanging out with him, and Nolan’s parents believe him. Anthony ends up making elaborate lies about hanging out with Nolan at his house while they’re out spray painting a wall or sneaking into a club.

They end up in what can best be described as a secretive queerplatonic relationship. They’re more than friends—they kiss and whatnot on a weekly basis—but saying that they’re “boyfriends” just doesn’t feel quite right for them.

I’m not entirely sure as to how the plot would go, but the climax would probably be some kind of big confrontation with Nolan’s parents where they get caught in one of their lies and Anthony ends up yelling at Nolan’s parents about how miserable they’ve been making him.

There’s a shit ton of other stuff that I have in my head about this story, but this is most of it. Please tell me what you think of it if you can?

As always, if any of this is offensive or anything like that, please let me know. 👍

[orions-choker]

+:★:+* Chapter Six: Damage, Inc. +:★:+*

Japan should have been fun. Touring the world should have been fun. Y/N had been stoked initially, to see the country that had founded some of her favorite monsters, art and shows. Instead she was fucking miserable.

She hadn't left the hotel room since they arrived yesterday, honestly no one had noticed. The boys coped with their grief by drowning in alcohol and Y/N had never felt so alone. They hadn't spoken in weeks properly to each other. On the outside they laughed and joked but there wasn't much to say to her. There wasn't much that could be said in general.

Kirk's absence in her life had hit her the hardest. When they were supposed to rely on each other he was off in strangers beds, fresh snow lining his nose. If he thought he was being sneaky about it he was stupid, or maybe he just thought Y/N was stupid.

The damage between all of them seemed irreparable and it wasn't made any better by a new unwanted presence in the band. Under no circumstances or in any universe could Y/N think of a reason Jason should have entered their lives. It wasn't his fault, as much as the boys sure acted like it was.

Y/N just couldn't bring herself to look at him. He was odd, out of place no matter how hard he tried to pick up the pieces. She felt guilty that she had put her wall up around him.

A light tapping at her door stirred her from the nest she had made on her hotel bed. Unbothered by the blankets tangled around her limbs she shuffled to the door, cracking it open as much as the chain across the lock would allow. “Oh, hey Jase, what's up?” She knew her disappointment was thinly veiled.

Nonetheless he smiled at her, a wide smile that left deep laugh lines in his cheeks. His curly hair was a little wild as he stood in front of her door eagerly. If she had been in any better spirits she would have wanted to draw him, just like this. He was gorgeous of course, you would be blind to not see it. “Hey Y/N! The guys wanted me to come grab you. We're heading out for dinner and drinks, they said uhh, you're not allowed to say no.”

Y/N tilted her head back with an exasperated groan. “Seriously?” She questioned, sighing in defeat as Jason nodded back to her. “Wait here.” She mumbled, shuffling back from the door and closing it. The blankets were dropped back into their pile and she scrounged around for a pair of jeans.

She stared hard at the mirror as she raked a comb through her hair. She really needed a haircut, it came down her lower back now, nearly her hips. She had just been too lazy to do anything about it. There were deep bags embedded into the skin under her eyes. She looked like hell and once upon a time she would have never been caught in such a state. Everything just seemed too pointless now.

Barely presenting as a functioning human, she excited her room to be greeted once again by Jason. “Alright lead the way Jase’” she sighed. Jason's soft smile at her crawled under her skin. He was too kind to her, too kind to all of them when all they had ever done was push him away.

Greeting the two of them in the lobby were the other three. Lars was the only one who greeted her as he would normally. “Man, Y/N you look like shit.” The grin on his face as he said it looked nearly demonic. James punched him in the gut.

She couldn't say anything, she did look like shit. Her eyes drifted to Kirk who noticeably ignored the situation, eyes locked on a chair in the lobby to avoid looking at her. Ouch. She followed them wordlessly onto the busy streets of Tokyo.

It was dark out, she hadn't expected it to be dark already. Her senses were overloaded by sound, neon signs and lights and the smell of fried street food. If she stood in one place she would be swallowed by the sea of people. She reached out grabbing her brother's hand as a lifeline.

James smiled warmly down at her, like they were kids again. He had only ever been two years older than her but had taken his role as her big brother seriously from the beginning. It was the first time she found herself smiling back.

“There she is, hello sunshine” He grinned at her, pulling her closer and ruffling her wild hair. She shook her head gently but the smile persisted. He slowed down, allowing her to catch up to his pace. For the first time in weeks it felt normal, a new normal.

Lars led the pack towards the restaurant they were heading to. To Y/N's surprise Kirk and Jason were…close? She wouldn't deny it hurt to see Kirk being his usual self with someone else, it was nice to hear his laugh. Jason was saying something, his words tumbled out too fast for Y/N to catch them, but she did catch the blush on his face when Kirk responded enthusiastically.

The restaurant seemed too fancy for all of them as they approached, however as they entered it was packed full of people. All loud, rowdy and drunk. She ended up sandwiched between James and Jason, sat directly in front of Kirk who still wouldn't look at her. She frowned again.

“Hey, what do I order?” Jason asked, leaning down to her with this menu in hand. “Kirk told me you eat this stuff all the time and I have no idea what this stuff is.” Y/N looked between the two boys, catching the way Kirk blushed. So he had at least talked about her.

She smiled kindly at him. “Sushi isn't for everyone,” she explained “avoid anything with raw fish for now.” She pointed to a couple of items shaking her head. Eventually after explaining everything on the menu to Jason he found something he considered palatable.

Kirk had become a vegetarian earlier that year, Y/N had honestly been so proud of him for sticking to it. She found herself slowly following suit, unsure if she agreed with the lifestyle or just wanted his approval. Despite not talking to him as of late she still avoided ordering anything with meat.

With their orders taken they all fell into a comfortable chatter. Y/N sat, curled into the seat as best she could, lips pressed tightly as she attempted to listen to two separate conversations. “Y/N what are you going to do with the week off in between us touring the states again?” James asked her, and suddenly everyone's focus was on her.

She shrank in her seat under everyone's gaze. “Well, actually I dont think I'm going to come with you guys again, I think I want to go home after Japan.” She mumbled awkwardly. Kirk sputtered around his drink.

“What do you mean? You've always come with us, what the fuck man?” It was the first sentence he had spoken to her and it was in anger. She flinched a little at his sudden outburst. She noticed the disappointment in James and Lars's eyes as she looked to them for help. Alone, again.

“I just, what's the point? I'm an extra person to book hotel rooms for, feed, and clothe? I'm not a member of the band.” She fumbled her words, hands tapping anxiously on the table. “You guys would hardly notice i'm gone.”

Kirk scoffed, leaning back in his seat with his arms crossed. It was Lars who spoke. “We like having you here Y/N, you might as well be a member and we would notice, but it's up to you.” It was surprisingly sincere. Her eyes softened looking at him as he shrugged.

The thick tension was cut by the arrival of their food. Y/N was thankful to shovel the yam sushi rolls she ordered into her mouth to avoid saying anything else. From the corner of her eye she could see Jason eyeing a mound of wasabi on his plate, prodding it gently.

Kirk leaned forward with a grin. “Hey Jase, they gave you mint ice cream.” He declared. “You should eat it before I do.” Y/N's eyes widened. As Jason scooped a huge mound of it onto his spoon she panicked, slapping it out of his hand.

With wide eyes Jason turned to her. He opened his mouth to protest at her sudden outburst but Y/N interrupted him. “Dude that would have killed you!” She kicked Kirk under the table as he burst into laughter. “Not ice cream, wasabi.” She explained, taking a tiny amount on the tip of her chopstick and offering it to Jason.

Jason raised his eyebrows confused but leant forward taking the small amount into his mouth. Suddenly he was sputtering, rubbing at his nose, eyes watering. “What the fuck is that!” He asked, quickly grabbing his drink and downing it as fast as he could. Y/N couldn't help but giggle a bit at the reaction, imagining how much worse it would have been had she not intervened. From the corner of her eye she could see Kirk glaring at the two of them.

“It's really good if you like spice.” She explained, grabbing a large dollop and smearing it on her sushi roll. “It's kind of like horseradish?” She shrugged and popped the piece into her mouth. Soon the laughter from the others died down. The conversation that followed finally seemed to include her.

The rounds of drinks that were ordered seemed never ending. The pleasant buzz that tingled against Y/N's skin soon turned into the room spinning around her, her stomach churning as she realized she was far more drunk than intended. “Are you okay Y/N?” Kirk leaned over the table concerned, his hand reaching out to grasp hers.

Without thinking she recoiled back from his touch. “No m'not feeling good, wan’ go home now.” She slurred her words, leaning her head against James' shoulder. “Why do you care? You don’ care about me.” She grumbled at Kirk.

“Y/N that's not…let me walk you back to the hotel.” He sighed, pushing his chair back and walking to her side of the table. Gently he pulled her into a standing position. James looked over in concern, mouthing something at Kirk and receiving an affirming nod in response.

Shrugging his hands off of her, Y/N pouted. “No, I'd rather Jason take me.” She complained, the other man's eyes followed her curiously. “He's the only one who's bothered to talk to me lately, I don't like you guys very much right now.” as she said it she regretted it, seeing the hurt flash in her brothers eyes, Lars turning away from her with a grimace.

Jason stood up awkwardly, placing a hand on her arm. “I can take her, it's fine.” He smiled at Kirk. “I..actually I don't really know the way back to the hotel.” He admitted.

Kirk turned to the table again. “Me and Newkid will take her back, meet you guys at the bar across the street?” He was already dragging them out of the restaurant. He had never looked so angry and for some reason it satisfied Y/N, finally an emotion directed towards her that wasn't indifference.

“Why do you have to be suck a prick lately.” She provoked him further as they walked, stumbling over her own feet and only staying upright thanks to Jason's tight grip on her. She watched as Kirk's fists clenched and unclenched, willing himself to stay silent. Y/N continued her drunken rant. “Fuckin bullying Jason, fucking ignoring me, fucking this, blah blah, you used to be so sweet.”

They entered the lobby of the hotel in silence. As they reached her room Kirk finally spun around to face her, tears in his eyes. “Yeah I don't know if you've noticed, but life is kind of shit right now dude, we lost Cliff, we almost lost the band god forgive me if I'm not fucking peachy keen right now.” He snapped at her. Jason being the unfortunate witness to this took a step back, working on opening her door.

Y/N rolled her eyes, stumbling forward and catching herself against the wall. “Im supposed to be your best friend, im hurting too and you fucking abandoned me, why weren't we going through this together.” She poked at his chest aggressively before her arms were grabbed gently.

Jason steered her away into her open hotel room. “Okay, Let's get you to bed.” He mumbled. Looking over his shoulder at Kirk in concern. He seemed to sigh in defeat, following them into the room to get her into her sheets. Jason placed her down on the edge of the bed, Kirk grabbing a glass and filling it with water. “Just sit tight okay, watch some tv and get some sleep.”

Y/N groaned, slapping away their doting hands. “Yeah whatever, just fuck off, leave me alone, again.” She emphasized the last word with a glare at Kirk. She flopped back against the mattress, rolling over to face the other way so she didn't have to look at them.

The two men eyed each other wearily before stepping out of the room. The lights shut off leaving Y/N in complete darkness. The door was closed with a gentle click. She could hear the muffled sounds of their concerned voices as they walked away from her room. Thoughts of Kirk’s teary eyes and the uncertainty of her future with the band engulfed her until she finally succumbed to the heaviness on her eyelids and the tired ache of her bones.