#how to write angst

[urfriendlywriter]

20 angsty romance prompts part 2

(feel free to use <33 tag me when yall writeeee)

crying in your lover's arms

^ face buried in their chest, while their heart breaks at your every sob :(

"i wish i loved you less." but it is spat at the other person angrily, immediately being regretted after the words leave their mouth.

watching them cry and not knowing what to do (ouch-)

"why do you love me when you know i can't- shouldn't love you back?"

"you messed me up, you fcked me over and what- how dare i? how dare fckn you!"

"i am sorry. i am so so.. so.. sorry. please.. let me go."

"don't you dare do this to me- No! No, no, no, no- nono, hey, please!!"

"... why can't.. anybody see--that... I'm tired?... " (if written write, this wud traumatize me)

"I'm done waiting for you, [name]."

them literally on their knees, "please, please--just please trust me! Why is it so hard for you to believe me once?"

^ "how many times do i have to get hurt by trusting you!!?"

"i am not sorry that i don't love you. I'm sorry that you don't love yourself."

"i loved you, believe me. i did. then you turned into someone else, someone... scary."

"WHY DO YOU HAVE TO KEEP HURTING ME? why--why am i the one.. always losing everything..?"

"listen to me-" "No, no!" "my dear, i swear, that isn't what i meant." "oh yeah? i don't think so. you were pretty loud and clear back there."

"so.. you're just going to.. give up on me." "that is NOT what i meant-" "you're not willing to fight for me either. i think it's pretty clear, [name]."

hands trembling while holding their pale, bloodied face, "k-keep your eyes open, for fucks sake! PLEASE-please please, talk to me."

"promise me you'll be okay, and that you'll keep living. moving on, even without me." "only if you do the same." (this happened irl yall)

"you saved me then killed me all over again."

[me-writes-prompts]

-:"I can't stop loving you." Angsty romance prompts for your otp:-

(This prompt list...... AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH. tag me if you write these ☠️)

By @me-writes-prompts

"It's not you...it's me. I can't stop loving you."

"If I knew loving someone would hurt so much, I still would've loved you."

"I'm tired of being the only one who loves you. I need you to love yourself first." oof

"This is not the version of you I fell in love with. And honestly, I've forgotten the real you." T-T

"Is it so hard to believe I've stopped loving you?"

"I can't live without you. I can't love without you. I need you, by my side, always did and always will." "You'll be okay. I know you will."

"It's not okay to just leave me here, after telling me you love me back." "We can't- we'll never be together."

"So you choose them over me? After all we've been through together, you choose them?" (AZIRACROW MY HEARTTTTTTT)

"I'm forbidden to love you. I'm forbidden to be with you. So, what am I to do if not fall on my knees and beg for you to stay?" (bear with me here AHHHH)

"It's truly funny...how you can't choose who you want to be in love with. I didn't choose to be in love with you. It just happened, and I wish it didn't."

Walking in rain to their house just to find that they're no longer there.

"You can't go. You cannot leave me here. You promised we'll be together forever." (No words)

Playing the song they always sang together to, and just crying.

"It'll never be the same between us. We'll never be the same."

"Your silence speaks more than you ever have. And, I'm not sure why it took so long for me to notice."

"You've drifted so far away from my side that I can no longer reach for your hand and guide you back to me." SOB OMG DID I JUST WRITE THAT

"I can no longer recognize you. And that's not even the saddest part. It's the fact that you no longer make any attempt to make me understand you."

[faetima]

𝐝𝐥𝐦𝐥𝐮 (𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐨𝐥𝐝) . .

. . you have hanahaki, a severe case of shyness, and a crush on scaramouche, and scaramouche is an absolute jerk.

// tws ; blood ; gn reader ; hanahaki & modern au ; slight cursing 

a/n: first time posting here yippee (pls be nice)

you sobbed, heaving up stupid yellow carnations while sitting on the cold, hard floor of the school bathroom.

you wretched up the damned flowers. they fell ungracefully into the toilet which sat in front of you.

your knees hurt from sitting on them for so long.

if only you could tell him how you felt. it would finally all be over, one way or another. maybe with your feelings being requited.

or maybe with you choking to death, the only thing with you while you die being the stupid fucking flowers.

you coughed again, pale yellow petals fluttering to the ground elegantly.

it was a stark contrast to how, just moments after that, you were coughing your lungs out, flowers flopping down into the toilet in large clumps; stuck together by mucus and blood.

you wheezed and wheezed and wheezed until it felt like there was nothing left in your lungs and your throat was burning and your knees were bruised.

you sobbed and sobbed and sobbed until there were no more tears left.

you coughed and coughed and coughed to the point you thought maybe just dying would be better than this fucking hell.

you curled into a ball, crying. crystalline tears ran down your cheeks, falling onto your clothes, the ground, anything.

if only you could fucking talk. why were you like this? why were you fine with your friends, but so terrified to talk to anyone? to everyone?

to him?

maybe, just maybe, if you were different you wouldn’t be in this situation.

if only you weren’t so pathetic, so stupid, so scared.

you hated yourself. you hated yourself so, so much. who the fuck was this terrified to talk to people, but opened up so easily once others talked to them?

maybe you should just confess and get it all over with.

—

you opted to just give him a letter anonymously. 

who knew if he would even read it? he received dozens of confessions everyday.

even if he did read it, it couldn’t be that bad, right?

—

if you could, you would eat up your words.

it was much, much worse than you thought.

he had ripped open the envelope, immediately reading the letter with a scowl.

he wasn’t even halfway through when he burst out laughing.

”what the fuck is this?” he snickered, holding onto his locker so he wouldn’t fall from how hard he was laughing.

”what pathetic fucking weirdo confesses from an anonymous letter? are they too terrified to say it to my fuckin’ face?”

he continued reading the letter.

when he was done, he crumpled it up and threw it away behind him, still laughing.

”that’s so goddamn stupid.”

unfortunately, the crumpled up letter hit you on your head.

not embarrassing, right?

well, it wasn’t until scaramouche saw it had hit you.

”oh, sorry,” he exclaimed in a voice dripping with mock sweetness.

”didn’t see you there.”

it would’ve been fine until his next comment, which you unfortunately overheard.

”these dumb fucking bitches. they’re so stupid, can’t even move out of the way. what are they, blind?” he muttered under his breath, tone condescending.

you burst into tears right then and there, unable to stop the overflow of emotions.

you walked away as quick as you could, wanting to kill yourself right there.

”so emotional, and over what?”

his laugh rang down the hallway, following and taunting you.

—

you don’t know what had come over you that day. before that you had always tried to keep your emotions in check, always tried to stop the tears from coming out in front of people you didn't know.

maybe hearing your crush degrade and insult you had just struck a chord or something.

—

weak coughs wracked your frail body, using up the little energy you had left.

you were on your death bed (quite literally! you were laying on your bed while dying).

honey yellow flowers surrounded you, their sickly sweet scent making you feel nauseous.

you choked up another batch of the flaxen flowers, watching them flop forward onto your bed sheets, staining them a dull crimson because of the blood on them.

with half lidded eyes, you stared at the carnations. your mind was hazy, and your vision blurred.

if you recalled correctly, they symbolized disdain and rejection.

how fitting.

[morallysuperiorlips]

Let's Talk About ✨ANGST✨!

What is ✨angst✨?

The Google machine describes ✨angst✨ as a feeling of deep anxiety or dread, typically an unfocused one about the human condition or the state of the world in general.

The world of fanfiction/writing also uses it to describe stories that air on the side of sad/serious/more dramatic tones, themes, etc.

But morallysuperior, how do I write that sort of thing? Where do I even start?

Well, dear writer, it might seem daunting but this is VERY easy to break down.

There are a whole bunch of subgenres of ✨angst✨: hurt/comfort, trauma unearthed, working through loss, dealing with new traumas, etc. But, from my years of studying writing and writing words upon words of shitty fic and chipping away at my WIP, this is what I’ve deduced. All forms of ✨angst✨ fall into one of two categories:

Character-Driven ✨Angst✨ and Character Relationship-Driven ✨Angst✨.

From there, each of those categories can branch off into two slightly more specific but still pretty all-encompassing categories.

Character-Driven ✨Angst✨

Mental: Focus on your character hitting a low. Maybe their deepest fears have just been unearthed. Maybe somebody or something triggered a past trauma. Maybe something about their environment has left them in a terrible place.

Physical: Focus on your character getting hurt. Who hurt them? Why were they hurt? How badly were they hurt? What do they think about as they’re getting hurt? Is it something they can really recover from?

Character Relationship-Driven ✨Angst✨

Mental: Focus on the character’s relationship(s) hitting a low. Did they have a substantial disagreement that may or may not have unearthed some trauma? A miscommunication that resulted in a blowout fight? Do they have to separate for some reason, whether bad or good? How are their bonds being tested? What situation are they in that might make them question their relationship?

Physical: Focus on the character’s loved ones getting hurt. How does your character react? Do they do anything to intervene? Can they do anything to intervene? Did they perhaps cause it in some way? What happens after the fact? Can their loved one recover? How does it affect their relationship going forward? (Makes for great hurt/comfort)

Once you kind of identify those general concepts, I think the possibilities are ENDLESS, and you’re welcome to branch off in any direction your twisted mind desires :)

As always, go fucking write something <3

[allthingswhumpyandangsty]

HOW TO WRITE A CHARACTER WHO IS IN PAIN

first thing you might want to consider: is the pain mental or physical?

if it’s physical, what type of pain is it causing? — sharp pain, white-hot pain, acute pain, dull ache, throbbing pain, chronic pain, neuropathic pain (typically caused by nerve damage), etc

if it’s mental, what is the reason your character is in pain? — grief, heartbreak, betrayal, anger, hopelessness, fear and anxiety, etc

because your character will react differently to different types of pain

PHYSICAL PAIN

sharp and white-hot pain may cause a character to grit their teeth, scream, moan, twist their body. their skin may appear pale, eyes red-rimmed and sunken with layers of sweat covering their forehead. they may have tears in their eyes (and the tears may feel hot), but they don’t necessarily have to always be crying.

acute pain may be similar to sharp and white-hot pain; acute pain is sudden and urgent and often comes without a warning, so your character may experience a hitched breathing where they suddenly stop what they’re doing and clench their hand at the spot where it hurts with widened eyes and open mouth (like they’re gasping for air).

dull ache and throbbing pain can result in your character wanting to lay down and close their eyes. if it’s a headache, they may ask for the lights to be turned off and they may be less responsive, in the sense that they’d rather not engage in any activity or conversation and they’d rather be left alone. they may make a soft whimper from their throat from time to time, depends on their personality (if they don’t mind others seeing their discomfort, they may whimper. but if your character doesn’t like anyone seeing them in a not-so-strong state, chances are they won’t make any sound, they might even pretend like they’re fine by continuing with their normal routine, and they may or may not end up throwing up or fainting).

if your character experience chronic pain, their pain will not go away (unlike any other illnesses or injuries where the pain stops after the person is healed) so they can feel all these types of sharp pain shooting through their body. there can also be soreness and stiffness around some specific spots, and it will affect their life. so your character will be lucky if they have caretakers in their life. but are they stubborn? do they accept help from others or do they like to pretend like they’re fine in front of everybody until their body can’t take it anymore and so they can no longer pretend?

neuropathic pain or nerve pain will have your character feeling these senses of burning, shooting and stabbing sensation, and the pain can come very suddenly and without any warning — think of it as an electric shock that causes through your character’s body all of a sudden. your character may yelp or gasp in shock, how they react may vary depends on the severity of the pain and how long it lasts.

EMOTIONAL PAIN

grief can make your character shut themself off from their friends and the world in general. or they can also lash out at anyone who tries to comfort them. (five states of grief: denial, anger, bargaining, depression and eventual acceptance.)

heartbreak — your character might want to lock themself in a room, anywhere where they are unseen. or they may want to pretend that everything’s fine, that they’re not hurt. until they break down.

betrayal can leave a character with confusion, the feelings of ‘what went wrong?’, so it’s understandable if your character blames themself at first, that maybe it’s their fault because they’ve somehow done something wrong somewhere that caused the other character to betray them. what comes after confusion may be anger. your character can be angry at the person who betrayed them and at themself, after they think they’ve done something wrong that resulted in them being betrayed, they may also be angry at themself next for ‘falling’ for the lies and for ‘being fooled’. so yes, betrayal can leave your character with the hatred that’s directed towards the character who betrayed them and themself. whether or not your character can ‘move on and forgive’ is up to you.

there are several ways a character can react to anger; they can simply lash out, break things, scream and yell, or they can also go complete silent. no shouting, no thrashing the place. they can sit alone in silence and they may cry. anger does make people cry. it mostly won’t be anything like ‘ugly sobbing’ but your character’s eyes can be bloodshot, red-rimmed and there will be tears, only that there won’t be any sobbing in most cases.

hopelessness can be a very valid reason for it, if you want your character to do something reckless or stupid. most people will do anything if they’re desperate enough. so if you want your character to run into a burning building, jump in front of a bullet, or confess their love to their archenemy in front of all their friends, hopelessness is always a valid reason. there’s no ‘out of character’ if they are hopeless and are desperate enough.

fear and anxiety. your character may be trembling, their hands may be shaky. they may lose their appetite. they may be sweaty and/or bouncing their feet. they may have a panic attack if it’s severe enough.

and I think that’s it for now! feel free to add anything I may have forgotten to mention here!

[dattebroyo]

half return

[pygmi-says-hi]

writing tips - fevers

guys so the injury post absolutely fucking exploded (500 notes in 24 hours is a lot for me) and the fever part really threw yall for a loop.

I didn't go into it but I can! just to clear up questions.

Fevers are funky asf

like, there are so many factors that indicate when a fever is like a big deal and when it's not. part of it has to do with the age of the patient, how long the fever lasts, any causes or prexisting conditions....

Like this:

If person is feverish due to an infection, their symptoms are gonna be slightly different than someone who is fighting the flu. this is because the antibodies are attacking different parts of the nervous system with different kinds of chemicals blah de blah blah blah.

The younger the patient, the more susceptible they are. if the character is a child, a fever of 102 F is way worse than a 30 year old man experiencing that. It'll take a larger toll on the baby's body.

Some people have naturally higher body temps. There is a standard deviation away from the target temp that is still ok. Some people simply exist at 99.2 F, even though for some that's febrile.

idk man it's weird people are weird don't @ me about it.

obviously it's bio science which means not everything has exactly a clear answer. there are so mnay variables at play that it's easier just to blanket statement the whole thing.

because this isn't a blog for medical advice.

please don't use this blog for medical advice.

100% of death.

thanks guys love the effort

xox

[a-scary-lack-of-common-sense]

Part 2/2

By the time Stanley had realized he wasn't as alone as he believed himself to be entrapped in this ravenous abyss; he had honestly begun to suspect that he was finally starting to properly lose his mind.

In all the ceaseless miles that Stanley had journeyed during his apparent permanent residence within the dark devouring void, not once had he encountered another conscious, walking, talking being similar to himself. Every other formerly living creature that he had crossed paths with had been so... silent. Empty. Dead, in every sense of the word. It was as though the very essence of life itself had been sucked out of their bodies with a straw, their forms slowly falling apart piece by piece under the vicious gluttony of the darkness that surrounded them. They looked like they actually were supposed to be there, unmoving and comatose, unlike him.

So, when Stanley first began to encounter the twins, all of a sudden, he wasn't the only one in the dark.

When meeting the first pair of them, he found himself standing in a lake.

He hadn't even noticed the changes at first. It felt as though he had been walking for weeks on end, his body moving purely on autopilot and his aching legs leading him towards a destination only it knew. A thick fog of forgetfulness and flickering memories had descended upon his brain like a heavy blanket of numbing static as he had traveled. In this absentminded state, he hadn't even realized that the ever-present undulating, buzzing darkness surrounding him had begun to gradually shift and morph to form a horizon line; stretching into tall looming cliffsides that almost seemed to close in on him. Once the nonexistent floor beneath his soles abruptly began to ripple and warp, like the disturbed surface of a shallow puddle; only then did he finally notice his transformed environment.

The transition was seamless, almost dream-like. One moment, he was still surrounded by that filthy, overwhelming abyss; and the next, his boots were suddenly plunged deep into the cold, dark lake water.

The silence didn't leave, however. It still choked and stuffed its way into Stanley's ears to clog up his mind with thick cotton; the eerie quiet not quite matching the calm, almost serene scenery the void seemed to have abruptly transformed itself into. Like a movie with its sound cut off; leaving only the unsettling hum of the projector to fill the empty air.

It was odd. The lake was surely incredibly deep. He could obviously tell from how thin and pathetically small the shores appeared all the way from where he now unceremoniously stood in the middle of the lake. Stan could look down and see the darkness below his feet swallow what meager light that managed to break through the murky waters. The overwhelming black almost seemed to beckon him, gaping and haunting; a bottomless underwater pit of pitch black that never seemed to end.

And yet, he didn't sink. Stanley remained perfectly level, the almost ink like waters stopping just at ankle level, as though he were held up just above the surface by some invisible force. Even the writhing waves seemed small and low, as though the waters were shy to climb up his legs further than that. It was odd, so very odd.

However, it wasn't nowhere near as odd as the sight that greeted him when he finally lifted his eyes from the waters.

Stanley had crossed paths with truly unbelievable sights in this strange somewhere; from bursting, collapsing stars; to the imploding heat death of entire universes, but none of them seemed to hold the candle to what he saw then when he lifted his eyes:

Children.

Two, to be exact. Two, nearly identical looking children stood motionless before him; completely soaked through to the bone as though they had taken a plunge into the frigid water that pooled around their ankles. It was a girl and a boy, both adorned with twin expressions utterly devoid of emotion, their wide eyed stare seeming to burn holes into his thin jacket. Their drenched clothes sagged off of their scrawny frames; thin rivulets of water dirpping off of them and disturbing the glassy surface of the water at their feet. The little girl's hair had messily stuck to her face in thin sodden strands, her cheeks still full and round with youth just like the boy's. They looked young. Too young to be in a place such as this.

Oh, but their eyes; their eyes.

They burned with such anger; such injustice, brighter than any dying star or galaxies he had ever seen. Anger towards the world, to fate, to whatever cruel deity that had deemed them fit to be sent to this wretched place so prematurely. They were too young to be here; to be entrapped like he was amongst this hungry darkness. And yet, here they were, sheer denial against their own untimely deaths being the only thing keeping them awake and conscious amongst the dead and rotting. A show of juvenile defiance to nature itself so vehement even the all-consumign darkness seemed hesitant to devour them whole just yet.

It saddened him. It saddened him to know that they belonged there, that they were supposed to be there. He could see it, he could feel it; they were dead. No amount of determination could deny that universal fact.

When they spoke, Stanley could hear anger:

Stan chuckled in a futile attempt to lighten the suddenly heavy atmosphere that threatened to crush him whole. "A lake monster? You kids and your imagination," he teased, hoping to somehow rid the poor kids of the haunted look that seemed to whirl in their glares. No child should have been burdened with such a knowing look; such eyes that looked like they had seen everything there was to see about the world, the horrid and the good.

Clearly, it had been the wrong thing to say, and Stanley's faux pas was rewarded with a scowl from the little boy. A world's worth of sour contempt etched into every contorted groove that his grimace seemed to dig into his much too young face. Stan suddenly felt guilt squeeze at his weary bones for having caused that.

"That's what they all said," the boy spat out, eyes shining with a sheen of wetness Stan wasn't sure he was prepared to deal with.

Stan left that first interaction with the twins with the feeling of guilt and sorrow still clining to him.

He couldn't have known, at the time. He couldn't have known that this wouldn't be anywhere near the last time that he would meet the pair. He hadn't realised just how many of them there were. After that first pair, his endless journeying within the Abyss was hardly be spent alone anymore. Countless more times, he came face to face with the exact same two young and impossibly worn faces; forced to meet one pair of beaten and bruised kids after another.

Not one pair had died the same death as another. Some had gotten lost, prey to whatever threat that had snatched them up out in the open; some had fallen from high up; some had been crushed under an incredible weight; some had burned; some eaten alive; some zombified. Some didn't even seem physically harmed at all, body perfectly intact, and yet that same faraway, distrubed look in their eyes remained.

He thought the worst ones were the ones he found alone. A little girl or a little boy, left all lonesome without their other half there. Twins, he remembered a pair of them telling him once.

Once, he had come across a town full of silent, stone statues. It was a rustic, shabby, almost nostalgic looking town- odd and strangely familiar. The sight of it had tugged at an aged memory that had long since wasted away in the back of his mind. It was serene, almost deceptively so. The sun shone; the air smelled crisp and fresh; numerous waterfalls continued to crash down from the tall cliffsides; and a soft nonexistent breeze whistled through the thicket of pine trees that blanketed the outskirts of the town. None of it seemed to match the gruesome scene of the hundred wailing statues that littered every inch of the town.

He had found the boy's statue on the other side of town, deep within the green forest and toppled over the gnarled roots of a towering tree. Like the rest of the townsfolk, he too, was frozen mid-shriek; his stone face twisted and contorted into a mock impression of a silent scream as his body lay paused in a writhing struggle. He made sure to be gentle when he carried the boy's statue over to place it beside the girl's, whose statue stood far deeper into the forest, sporting the same rictus grimace of terror as her brother's. It somehow felt wrong for them to have been so far apart from one another, even in death.

He had come to dread meeting of the twins. He hated every second he had to confront yet another pair of dead children that did not belong here, but fate had decided they did. He despised having to listen to their tales of woe as they wept about the injustice of the world, of having died young; he despised himself for being unable to do more than weep with them.

"We don't belong here, Grunkle Stan," he would listen to the little girl weep, calling him a title he didn't recognize. He never remembered if they had ever told him their name, but they all seem to know his, without a fail. "If we're dead, then what about you? What about Grunkle Ford? Mom? Dad? What about them? We can't be dead, we can't be," they would say, confusion and frustration written all over their faces. They didn't understand. They didn't understand why they had come to the darkness so early, so unfairly.

He never knew what to say, he'd never been good with words.

All he could do was kneel down to their levels and engulf them in his arms, hoping he could somehow squeeze the pain straight out of their bodies in his embrace. He hugged them, because what else could he do?

[tsuutarr]

Pairing: Tokyo Debunker Ghouls x Reader

Word count: 12K

Content: angst, pining, loss

Summary:

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

No one expected your death to come so suddenly.

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

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

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

You should’ve expected it all.

But you didn’t.

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

Your sage’s ring glows dimly on your finger.

.

.

.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But it’s too late now, isn’t it?

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

He thinks about the ridiculous care you put into everyone.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

How could that come crashing down so suddenly?

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

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

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

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

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

“Chuu!”

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

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

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

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

“You’re so cute.”

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

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

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

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

His sleep soon evaporates from his being.

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

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

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

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

“What’re you so egg-cited about?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Who wouldn’t find you precious?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, she really appreciates your help.”

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

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

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

He wasn’t sure what he was feeling.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Where’s your lunch, Subaru?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Subaru?” you asked, concerned.

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

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

“Really?”

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

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

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

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

Why couldn’t he save you?

Why couldn’t you have been saved?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, sure, leave it to me!”

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

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

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

“Sounds good!”

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

“Likewise.”

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

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

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

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

Ritsu’s grip on his briefcase tightens.

He feels like he’s going to be sick.

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

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

No.

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

It’s not fair. It’s just not fair.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I need a face pack,” he muttered.

“Do you want me to get it for you?”

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

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

“Who else?”

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

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

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

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

Anger thrums through his veins. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He never could win, though, could he?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Good job, Ren!”

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

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

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

“Ah, sorry–”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Is this what love is? This agony?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

So why did time have to stop for you?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His responsibilities sit heavily on his shoulders.

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

You’re dead?

There’s no way. You can’t be.

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

Who killed you?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He hated to admit it, but it was relaxing.

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

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

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

“Wanna make a bet, Honor Roll?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

You’re so stupid.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You’re no longer here, though.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, I like spending time with you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He’ll never become your knight in shining armor.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes, let’s.” Luca watched as you kept your gaze on the setting sun. The soft colors of the sky were quite a sight to behold, but Luca wasn’t sure why it was distracting you.

“You know, Luca?” you called, as if you could read his mind. “They say that as long as you’re on Earth, you’ll see the same sun as the people you love. Isn’t that nice?”

Luca could be slow to pick up on things sometimes, but he wasn’t stupid. He could tell that those words were meant to console you after you’d been stripped from your family so suddenly (he’d come to understand the reasons for your desire to leave that day when you were working on your first case after many conversations with you). Yet, your words carried an undertone that implied that you told him about the sun to console him as well. Him, who was far from his family. Him, whose brother had gone missing. Him.

Those words were meant for him, but he cannot see the value in them now. Not when you’re no longer on this Earth. Not when you’re no longer alive. The sun still shines so brightly over Darkwick as if undeterred by your death. It pains Luca because time feels like it’s stopped for him, yet the world seems to move on. 

Luca closes his eyes, heart throbbing.

“I’m sorry… Yet again I have failed to protect the people most important to me…”

The first thing Tohma does when he hears of your death is smoke to calm his nerves. He’s counting down the minutes until Jin calls him, but Tohma can’t seem to shake the sudden burst of numbness that shoots through his veins.

He hates to admit it, but your death has shaken him up more than he’d like. Of course, he’ll have to hide it. He’ll have to get a hold of himself – especially since everyone else will be in a tizzy. But even though he knows this, he’s having a hard time controlling his own emotions.

You’re the only one who is stupidly earnest in everything you do, allowing him bits of amusement in his life. You’re the only one that’s helped him feel like he could forget everything he’s got to do and be. You’re the only one who tries to lift the burden on his shoulders. You’re the only one and it makes Tohma’s lungs feel empty.

What vermin had killed someone as lovely as you?

“Welcome to high society,” Tohma had said, taking your hand in his for a dance. “That outfit suits you well. With that poise, you’ll have no trouble fitting in here.” And he was right, you looked beautiful, like the belle of the ball.

“Aha, sure,” you murmured, wincing as you stepped on his foot. “Oh god, I’m so sorry! I’m still so bad at this…”

“Inexperience is not a crime,” Tohma responded, twirling you in his arms. “The important thing is choosing to not remain ignorant when you don’t know something.” While most would assume Tohma was talking about your dancing capabilities, you knew that he meant something beyond that, too. You were smart like that, after all, and so hardworking. You chose to not remain ignorant.

“You’re right.” You nodded. “I’m gonna do my best.”

“I look forward to your efforts,” he hummed. “And in times of difficulty, I hope you’ll turn to those around you for help. I will be there to keep you safe.”

Tohma takes another drag of his cigarette, watching as the smoke fills the room. He told you he’d protect you. He told you, didn’t he? And yet he couldn’t.

Perhaps a lowly servant like him could never have protected you in the first place.

At the news of your death, Jin’s first move is to slash though the expensive furniture in his room, unsure of where else to let his emotions explode. His hand tightens around his sword as he stabs his sword in the ground, visualizing whoever had the audacity to touch what is his.

How dare they hurt you? How dare they take you away from him?

You, who’s been so stupidly obedient to him without any expectation of riches or glory. You, who’s been stupidly kind to him despite his terse nature. You, who’s been by his side without complaint as long as he ordered it. 

“...I was too active yesterday. Massage me, servant,” Jin muttered, rolling onto his stomach to give access to his back. Without a word of complaint, you do as you’re told, though Jin couldn’t say you could be a masseuse anytime soon. “...What the hell was that? Put some muscle into it.”

“What? I’ve been told I give really good massages, though.”

Jin frowned. “From?”

“My dad.”

Jin snorted out a laugh. “Try harder.”

“Fine, fine,” you muttered, stretching your arms in front of you. “I’m gonna put my back into it!” Jin wondered if you’d actually be able to give him a proper massage, but the effort in itself was amusing (cute, even). Still, regardless of your massages, it was nice to have your hands on his back. He liked being close to you. “How was that?”

“It was fine.”

“What!” you exclaimed, incredulous, before grumbling, “You give a guy a massage and all he does is say it’s bad. Not even a word of thanks.”

With how you were yapping, you must’ve gotten quite comfortable with him. Jin couldn’t say he disliked it. “Never learn, do you?” he asked, rolling onto his back so that he can pull you on to the bed next to him. “I don’t take you being here for granted. I know it won’t last forever.”

Your eyes widened. “Huh?”

“That’s all I’m going to say.”

“Wha– you’re so–” you huffed, before shaking your head, seemingly pleased. “Fine, you win, your majesty. I suppose it's time for this servant to leave.” You made a move to get up, but Jin stopped you.

“I’ve got plans early tomorrow. Your house is too far. Stay here tonight.”

He still can’t forget the way you looked that night – bashful, sweet. He wanted to lock you in with him so that he could have you for as long as possible. Maybe he should’ve. He never took your existence for granted, valuing every second he’s spent with you, but when he said that he knew that your relationship wouldn’t last forever, he never thought it’d be because someone killed you. The thought makes hot rage course through his veins again.

He’s going to kill whatever bastard took you from him.

.

.

.

Faintly, your sage’s ring glows on your finger. 

It asks you a question it’s asked you many times before: “What do you desire?”

You answer the question exactly as you’ve answered it before: “I want to go back.”

The sage ring glows brighter in response.

You wake up on a train.

Your phone beeps.

[simp-ly-writes]

Say You'll Love Me

─────── · · How Could You Refuse? (pt.6)

Pairing: Jayce Talis x Shy!Assistant!Reader

─ · · SUMMARY: From the Arcane fucking with his mind, people he thought to trust turning their backs on him and Piltover looking up to him for salvation... the only thing Jayce wants? you.

─ · · THE FOLLOWING CONTENT IS BETWEEN CONSENTING ADLUTS AND IS NOT MEANT FOR ANYONE UNDER THE AGE OF 18. skip the smut once seeing the star! ⭐️ tags under cut

─ · · TAGS: female pronouns used, protective!Jayce (low-key possessive in some parts), kissing, depictions of blood, gore, war and death. brief mentions of suicidal thoughts and torture. fluff, hurt/comfort, angst. smut: pinv sex, oral (fem receiving), dom!Jayce, chocking, marking/biting, size kink?, dirty talk, overstim, aftercare.

─ · · MASTERLIST | TAGLIST REQUEST | WORDCOUNT: 5,585

─ · · SERIES MASTERLIST

─ · · A/N: This is my first time EVER writing long-form smut... please be kind I was so embarrassed while writing this lol (hoping its not too shit) 🙈

─────── · ·

─ · · drip... drip... drip... water slowly fell from a corner of the ceiling in your cold cell, you hugged your knees to your chest, chair wobbling as you shivered. The lights were too bright to sleep and with what little food they expected you to work off of, you were scrambling for answers.

─ · · Everyday you tried to explain to the guards that you were only the assistant, could only work with your scientists. The last time you had conducted personal research was when apply to the academy yet nobody believed you, a slap to the face as they told you to work harder. Your hands shook around the barrel of a gun as you twisted on the scope- you looked at the blueprints one last time and then fired it at the wall.

The guards did not budge just listening to the bang echo, blankly watching as you fell backwards form the impact. The burst of magic coming out unstable and crumbling bits of the stone wall... fuck! you muttered underneath your breath. Using the end of the gun like a cane to help pick yourself up before stumbling back to the drawing board.

Hextech was not going to work, there was no metal strong enough to correct the blast... but what if it was not meant to hold... what if it exploded? You shook your head, disturb that you had even thought about it yet a hand shook the bars to your cell, your head whipping over, eyes wide as Ambessa looked down upon you. "Whatever it is that came though your mind, make it and you will be allowed out for a moment. Is that a deal?"

You looked down at your hands, holding them together as you nodded, waiting for her to leave before turning back around. You listened as the elevator doors closed but a new voice stopped your movements. "Please, just follow her words. It'll make everything easier," you gasped seeing the officer you shared a night with emerge from the shadows. His eyes sunken, scar across his cheek.

You winced, his name leaving your mouth as he nodded, "still as beautiful as that night," he said to you and you pulled your sleeves further down your arms. "I mean it," he adds, hands resting on the bars of your cell. "release me," you asked gently, hope bleeding in your wide eyes. He stared at you, mouth opening and closing before shaking his head.

You turned back around, going back to your desk yet he continued to speak even as another guard warned him, "I can't, not unless they find another person with the knowledge you have. They need these weapons for the oncoming war..."

"They don't need weapons," you scoff, pencil snapping in two, "just like we don't need war... people just want the quickest results." No one speaks another word as you disassemble the shotgun, breaking it down into smaller parts as the darkest parts of your mind comes to the surface... I refuse to be the one that places this land in destruction... I refuse.

─────── · ·

─ · · With the rune taking its place within his forearm his tattoo on the other, he was the polar opposites of what Hextech could do... of what it had done to the people he was closest to and loved the most.

─ · · Acting on what was beyond his mortal brain and body, Jayce was felt as if he was falling from the sky, his brain a blur of the horrors he had just seen mixing with reality just as he slammed down on Salo's figure. He staggered and stumbled afterwards, the voices still unpleased, demanding he go to Viktor's sanctuary where Jayce did not even recognizing the familiar faces he saw, he was determined to eliminate Viktor. To shoot him down, to watch as his body hit the floor, to see if he still bled.

─ · · The world went silent as soon as the shot happened as if a sound barrier went through the houses and homes before a thousand cries sounded and all of Viktor's followers fell to the floor, unmoving. Jayce fell forwards, his strength gone, vision clearing as he stared with wide eyes observing Jayce. His mind was still buzzing a voice demanding for him to continue brutalizing the corpse yet he held his arcane hammer. Forcing his muscles to freeze. Viktor still was his partner, a cold bucket of water feels like it spills over his skin, clarity in his mind that immediately goes to you.

─────── · ·

─ · · Piltover is cheering as he emerges from the sewers, he cannot find it in himself to smile or react, simply watching as the crowd parts. The cheers dying into gasps as they observe the scars across his chest, the torn white uniform and his unruly appearance. His hammer groans behind him, the arcane still unsettled as it picks and pries at his memories, trying to regain control yet without seeing you, there was no hope in hell he was allowing any force to come between him and you.

─ · · Jayce only stops once seeing that little girl again hiding behind her fathers legs, she appears so much older now as Jayce presses a hand to his forehead, pulling back his hair- eyes gone wide. Had he been gone that long? Had you already given up on him? Jayce would forgive you, it wouldn't be fair if you hadn't waited for him yet a large part of him prayed so... he wanted nothing more to kiss you, to feel his skin against your skin, to hear you call out his name. Jayce's boots picked up their pace as he was a one-track mind, determined to get to the lab where he last left you.

─ · · His hands gripped his hammer, his eyes hardened as he bursted into the lab, his eyes searching, weapon swinging as his heart dropped... you were not here. Jayce's hammer fell with a thud, cracking the floors as he yelled your name, spinning in circles as he looked towards the ceiling and all the dark corners of the room. Jayce chuckled, shaking his head as he saw blood all over your leftover journals. Your always organized tools sprayed out across Viktor's desk you both promised not to touch, a chair flipped over and then... he looked under his desk and felt sick.

He could see where your nails had dug into the wood, scratching, he could hear you begging and pleading as his fingers brushed over the marks. With a broken sob, Jayce fell to his knees, forcing a fist into his mouth as he choked but no tears fell. His shoulder began to shake, his muscles tensing as he yelled out in frustration, throwing everything off the desk watching it shatter against the floor, "Fuck!"

Jayce took a series of deep breaths before storming to his hammer, allowing it to drag against the floors as sparks followed his footsteps. He felt his side start to bleed again, he would treat himself, he was not that far removed in his anger to endanger you further... no he would prepare and then he would allow himself to enjoy the blood across his face and the weight of you on his chest.

─────── · ·

─ · · "Kiramman!" Jayce shouted, storming into Caitlyn's house. The blue haired woman did not turn, her long blue coat rested upon her shoulders as her gaze while looking at Jinx's face on the board, she had to continue playing her role up until the final moment. "That is general to you," she said turning around before seeing a familiar blue glow and Jayce's hammer charged- the words dying on her lips as she held her palms up calmly, "Jayce," she warned watching as the mans eyes hardened. His face appeared more aged, his clothes form fitting in a deep green button up and black trousers.

A soft glow coming from his forearm had her raising a brow as Jayce chest heaved, "where's my girl, Kiramman?" he spoke coldly, fixing his grip, the leather of his gloves groaning as Caitlyn took a few steps forward. "I have been searching for her as well, Jayce. I have a feeling it has something to do with Mel's mother."

Jayce remembers her stare as you sat in the medical tent together... those events seemed so distant now. Jayce cracks his neck, his arms tensing as Caitlyn slightly flitches, trying to hold her ground. Jayce stares her down, daring her to lie but Cait only spoke the truth. The man nods, powering down his stance before leaning against his hammer, "How far has the search gone? How do you know she's with Ambessa? How can I know to trust you?"

Caitlyn sighs, removing her hat, arms crossing over her chest, shotgun leaning against her desk as she stares at the gemstone within it, rattling around in its cage. Jayce follows her stare, his eyes widening, the voices in his head threatening to rise to the surface. He shakes his head, physically trying to remove them with a growl.

"I am her friend as I am your's Jayce. Had I had known this is what Ambessa was planning... I would have never sided with her. The gemstone has been unstable since (name) has been taken, I assume it has something to do with her playing around with magic to appease the tyrant," Caitlyn explains, picking at her nails before looking up at Jayce, "Now how do I know to trust you with the rest of the information? Are you sure she'll want to see you more animal than man?"

Jayce glares, "I am still a man, perhaps more than I had been in the past-"

"That was not my question, Jayce," the General cuts the Councillor off, "I was asking, are you ready if she does not want you back?"

─────── · ·

─ · · You could hear shouting again and rolled your eyes, assuming the red guard to be training once again yet a part of you swore to hear Jayce's voice roaring, the sound of his mechanical hammer wizzing with magic- you stood up from your chair as did your assigned guards. Maybe it was just imaginative hope...

You could hear their weapons click on as you picked up the last gemstone you hadn't used and hid in a corner of the cell. Whoever was coming was leaving a trail of destruction that you did not want to see nor be a part of.

You listened to the trail of blood and guts becoming closer, bodies thudding to the floor as you closed your eyes, hugging yourself, making yourself smaller as you pleaded for it all to be over. In all honesty, you realized just how safe this cage allowed you to be. It saved you from Ambessa's lashings, saved you from the eyes of the guards when you hid in the shadows... and then you could hear your assigned officer stuttering, metal shattering with a slam, your door being swung open.

You listened, squeezing your eyes shut as laboured breaths echoed in the cold air, heard as their boots walked up to your desk, moving papers gently before picking up your unfinished models, a thoughtful hum sounding before they turned around abruptly. Another slam was heard, blue dimming as you held your breath.

The metal chair you spent so much time on groaned as it was pulled out and away from the table before... nothing, they must have sat down... why? You opened your eyes slowly, trying to squint through the darkness, your breaths shallow- "I can see your boots, sweetheart, come, now," You hear a deep strained voice commands as you feel their stare on your face.

You push your hands against the stone walls, helping yourself to stand as you take a half step into the light, just enough to see whoever is at the other side... Jayce? Jayce! Your eyes see your lover before you as he sits utterly exhausted yet eyes wild; sweat dripping down his forehead, his lips parted as he inhales deeply, tipping his head back. Broad shoulders rising and falling with his shirt as he stares at you, legs spread lazily- one encased in metal.

You blink once... twice... thrice. Your throat dry as you try and comprehend how he is here... you start to look away, eyes catching drops of blood across the concrete floors, you start to follow the trail before Jayce calls for you again, "don't look over there. Come here, please," he adds a bit more softly this time, his palm facing upwards on his thigh, fingers wiggling in leather to entice you.

You take a few steps closer, still unsure if this was your Jayce as you stand just barley within reach. You watch as his hazel eyes drink in your appearance and form, starting from your shoes, up to your waist, chest, and then settles of your features. His eyes caress your face in a loving stare, you can feel the warmth in his gaze hidden underneath his cold exterior, your cheeks warm as you grab your arm.

"Jayce?" you ask timidly, you watch as his eyes darken as you say his name before closing, a small smile appearing as his head hangs low -swaying. "Jayce?" you ask again, a bit of panic in your tone as you rush to stand in front of him. You gasp once feeling him grip the back of your thighs, squeezing gently. He opens his eyes, looking up through his long lashes at you with nothing short of adoration, "I've missed hearing my name between your lips."

Your mouth gapes as your mind goes blank, eyes staring widely into his own- listening to him chuckle as his hands slide up over your butt to your lower back before pushing gently for you to take a seat on his lap. Your hands start to shake, brain exploding by the hundred senses you experience as his thumb draws circles upon your hip, his chin resting on your shoulder, beard scratching at your skin as you squirm by the heat of his breath. He grips your hips, taking a sharp intake of air, he bites his lip, concealing his moan, "Can I kiss you?"

You place your hands on his chest, a palm feeling his heart beating rapidly just like yours before you feel around to his back and grip his shoulders pulling him in for a hug. You close your eyes, sobbing into the crook of his neck and shoulder as he holds you closely, shushing you gently. You squeeze your thighs and arms against him, trying to get closer, to feel that he was not just a dream, "Yes."

─────── · · ⭐️

Jayce being aware of his strength gives you a tight squeeze, listening to you gasp before he slowly lets go and presses a kiss to your shoulder. You lean your head to the side, exposing your neck- feeling as Jayce's fingers comb your hair aside. Next you feel his mouth leave open wet kisses trailing from your shoulder slowly up to just above your collarbone before moving to a place on your neck that has you scratching his back from the sensitivity.

You feel Jayce's smirk against your skin, he bites down playfully hearing you yelp but before you can turn your head to glare, he blows on the spot gently before sucking on the sore skin. Your entire body shakes, "Jayce," you breathily say his name, eyes closing from the thousand tickles that go up to your brain as you collapse against his chest, you tap his back thrice, Jayce pulls away with a satisfied hum, admiring the mark.

You nuzzle your face into his shoulder, hand reaching to pull his shirts collar aside as you quickly kiss up his neck eager to feel his lips against yours. A sudden slap against your butt has you pulling your head back as you see Jayce playfully glaring at you, "eager little thing, aren't you?"

"Jayce," you whine out, shaking your head and pulling away- suddenly feeling embarrassed, eyes looking anywhere but at him. Seeing your shyness, Jayce braces you against his chest with his forearm against your back, your chests pressed up against one another; he knows how eye contact effects you, allowing your eyes to reset as you looked around the room, enjoying his touch.

A few moments pass before you feel his lips by your ear as his other hand plays with your hair, "I want us to enjoy this, we have time, sweetheart." You nod as Jayce moves his hold back to your waist, his head tilting as you press a tentative kiss to a vein, listening to him hum in approval before continuing, slower this time.

You press kisses up his neck, biting just behind his ear to hear him growl. Your thighs clench at the sound, your hands gripping his hair as you feel a large palm place a gentle pressure at the back of your head, keeping you on that one spot before allowing you to pull away with hooded eyes.

Jayce licks his lips, chest heaving, his eyes watching your puffy lips part in a silent ask before he leans forwards, pressing hard as you moan against his lips. Your hands start to unbutton his shirt, feeling his skin against your palms before shrugging off your lab coat. Your brain feels foggy from the lack of air as you start to pull away, feeling as Jayce softly bites down on your lower lip before letting go.

You pause, seeing the scars against his chest, your finger hovering over before you feel leather against your wrist as he pushes your hand over the mark. You don't move, looking to Jayce for clarity, "I'm still the man you knew before, I promise." You can sense an equal truth and pleading to his tone.

"Do they hurt?" you ask softly, Jayce shakes his head, "not anymore. It feels good when you touch me actually." You laugh, shaking your head feeling as Jayce kissing your jaw, "I missed that sound too." Your heart swells as you trace the lines and contours of his chest. "I love you, Jayce."

"I love you too, so please, let me show you." Your eyes go wide, your brain returning to you as you feel as Jayce touch loosens on you his eyes widening too, "I mean we don't have to, I just-" you place a hand on his mouth, eyes shinning with humour. "Jayce, I'm not going to let you fuck me in a cell with corpses on the other side."

Jayce kisses your palm, you remove your touch. "First rude, I thought I taught you not to do that." You roll your eyes, feeling him tap your thigh in warning as you sigh. "Second, what corpses?"

You look over and to your shock, there is not a body in sight, "While I was waiting for you, Caitlyn and her team cleared and cleaned everything up," Jayce explains as you look back at him in shock. "And third," You could not believe the sass was still in him. "I never 'fuck' you, I make love to you." You begin to gag but see that Jayce is completely serious in saying this, "I mean it, (name). I love you and only want to show you that."

You look into his eyes before giving him a kiss, hearing him sigh out in relief. "Is that a yes?" you nod. "I need to hear it from you," Jayce clarifies. You take his face between your palms, "Yes, Jayce. I-I trust you." Jayce tilts his head, kissing your palm. "I might be a bit rough, but you know how to stop me, right?" You look over his dishevelled appearance again. Seeing his long hair sticking to his forehead, the lines across his face and chest, the feeling of leather against your skin.

"Three taps or shout hex." Jayce nods, leaning in to kiss your forehead, "Good girl." You shift in his lap, "That still does it for you, huh?" You don't respond and Jayce takes that as his answer with a smirk before gripping your thighs and standing. You rest your head on his shoulder before he places you on the desk and shoves everything off- clattering to the floor.

You watch as Jayce fully removes his shirt while looking down at you, unable to help himself he kisses you once before pulling away. He places his shirt on the desk before helping you out of your clothes being sure to kiss every patch of new skin he sees.

You feel warm underneath his dark stare as he looks down watching as his hand cups your sex- his thumb nears your clit through the material, resting just above, teasing, feeling as your wetness soaks through the fabric before pulling the material upwards sharply. You gasp from the friction, pressing your legs together with a moan before feeling your thighs become forced open, large hands gripping them apart. Jayce slowly bends down, his eyes focusing on how yours cloud over in pleasure as you feel his breath.

Your hands immediately latch onto his hair at the first feeling of his tongue giving a tentative lick, light yet the texture rough, you tilt your head back with a moan, body buzzing from the pleasure as he kisses your lower lips again and again. "P-please," you beg, locking your ankles over his shoulders and sigh contently once feeling the cloth get pulled aside, his touch amplified as one of his large fingers tease your entrance another circling around your clit- spelling out runes that your foggy mind couldn't even begin to concentrate on.

Jayce groans, he slowly pushes his finger deeper inside, the material of his gloves catching your walls- creating a pleasurable texture against as you clench down yet. He pumps his fingers at a slow pace, in an out, you should be embarrassed be the lewd sounds, by hearing Jayce chuckle. But when you try and move your hips- chasing his touch he pulls away swiftly, your legs falling off his shoulders as you pout at your boyfriend watching as he brings a finger up between his lips with a sigh, "I've missed this taste so much- so sweet."

You moan watching as me brings his fingers back down, your juices soaking through the leather of his gloves, his fingers glistening as he brings them closer to you mouth, taping your lip, signalling you to open, "Taste yourself."

You lower your jaw, feeling his fingers against your tongue before circling around them. Jayce observes you face as your eyes close, hands gripped your thighs in want while listening to Jayce's heavy breathing. You wiggle in your seat as Jayce pushes his fingers in more, teasing at the back of your throat as you gag before pulling out. "Such a good girl," he praises you.

But before you can respond, Jayce teases one large finger, then two. You grip at his wrist, feeling his lips leave lingering wet kisses across your chest before latching onto your nipple, his teeth graze it, you shiver before you feel him start to suck. You feel as a third finger slides in easily, you pulse and moan as his fingers curl to hit just the right spot inside of you. "Jayce," you whine in a high pitched tone.

"Already?" he chuckles picking his head back up. You hum out in pleasure, "Mhmm, I'm almost there Jayce, please," you beg but just before you can reach your peak, Jayce pulls away as you cry out in frustration. Jayce shushes you by gently squeezing your neck and pulling you in for a lingers kiss.

He pulls away, standing back as you grab the edge of the table in wait- watching as he uses his teeth to remove the straps around his wrists, his gloves falling off as he moves his shirt behind you. "Lay back," he says, watching as you lower yourself, slowly to the table.

Jayce unbuckles his pants, stepping out of his boots and kicking everything aside as you tilt your head up to watch him, heart racing as he sends you a wink. You will never get used to the sight of him, the size of him.

Jayce walks slowly up to you, your breath hitching once feeling his bulge rocking against your clit, the sound of your wetness catching on his boxers erotic as it echos in the empty room. Your chest is rising and falling in sort breaths, that peak closer than ever as Jayce teases you, his hands in fists beside your head, caging you in and when you open your eyes to meet his wild ones- you feel nothing but security.

"I love you, I love you so fucking much Jayce," you cry out, nails dragging against the skin of his back as he shakes, you can visibly see how much he is restraining himself in this moment. How pained he looks in his pleasure yet so focused on you, watching as his hips roll into your own, but the friction is not enough, "just loose control, love."

Jayce snaps his head back up, "what?" he says albeit a bit breathlessly. "Let go, I-I just want to feel you, Jayce, want you, need you." Jayce curses underneath his breath, his movements pausing, "are you sure?" you nod your head, "words baby," he kisses your neck. "Yes, please," you croak out and next thing you know, you are being flipped over.

Jayce positions himself, tip just teasing your leaking hole as your legs shake in wait- in want and with one sudden thrust, all the air is knocked from your lungs in a silent scream- your wrists trapped between his larger hand forcing them above your head as you lose yourself to the pleasure.

You listen to Jayce growl, "I've missed you so fucking much." You listen to the sound of skin slapping, filling the room alongside your combined moans- tears stream down your cheeks. "I'm close, Jayce!" you warn, still sensitive from earlier. "Hold on, breathe, sweetheart-"

"I can't Jayce," you sob out, feeling the fire start to form in your gut, spreading out to every vein in your body, a hand comes down on you ass. "You can and you will, baby," Jayce commands, his hips positioning down, reaching deeper than before as you freeze at the sensation starting to rise from your toes, focusing on your breathing.

You mumble blankly, feeling as Jayce kisses your shoulder blade, head becoming lighter than ever. "Good girl," he praises you with one sudden and sharp thrust. You are barley hanging on to reality to your impeding orgasm, trying to wiggle and shift your body away yet Jayce's hips just follow you. "Please, please, please," you beg like a broken record, you swore that if you were looking at yourself in this moment- you would be unrecognizable- withering underneath your boyfriend.

"Come for me. come. for. me," Jayce repeats, feeling as you clench down on his cock, choking it- watching as you bit down on your lip that forces him to release his hands from your wrists to pull it back down. "I want to hear how good I make you feel."

You moan out loudly as he continues to fuck you through your orgasm, you claw at the desk, sobbing as your body shakes from the overstimulation tears welling in your eyes as Jayce praises you, "You're taking me so good baby. Your pussy feels so good around my cock, just listen to her. Gonna make you cum again, aren't I-hm?"

Jayce feels as your pussy flutters before gushing around him again with a smirk, he places his body weight atop you as you struggle to comprehend the pleasure you feeling through the endless waves crashing through your body- your blank mind as he fucks you dumb. "Nothing to say, my love? That good?" You nod yes with a sob as Jayce coo's at you, continuing his brutal pace.

"T-too much, Jayce!" you yelp, sensitivity now overwhelming- on the cusp of hurting as you bite down hard on your lip, eyes closing as Jayce hums, "you know what to do love, tell me and I'll stop." Yet you don't move, don't speak, you don't want to stop feeling him, not yet at least, teetering on the line between pain and pleasure.

Jayce picks himself back up, taking your wrists as he positions you to bend off the table. He takes in the side of your tear covered face, his marks across your neck and shoulders, how his hands created indents on your hips as he feels the markings your nails left against his back that push him just over the edge just in time with your final orgasm.

Jayce quickly pulls out, you hear him moan loudly- you feel his seed against your back, warm and dripping down your butt as he slowly helps you rest back on the table. You both are panting- coming down from your highs. Your head lolls to the side, a soft smile coating your features as you feel Jayce brushing the hair out of your face and "you did so good for me baby, so proud."

"Yours, all yours," you say back as you close your eyes, a sudden rush of tiredness rushing over you as you feel Jayce press a kiss to your temple before cleaning you up, allowing you a moment to rest.

─────── · · ⭐️

─ · · Jayce helped to redress you, your legs weak as he picked you up into your arms, your head resting against his chest as you lulled yourself to sleep by the sound of his heartbeat. The only thing left behind in your cell were the pieces of a shattered blue gemstone, pulsing before fading.

─ · · By the time you were awake, you found yourself under Jayce's covers and heard the kettle click off, a record softly playing in the background as Jayce hummed along to it. You joined in, walking over humming, and grasping onto his pants, fingers looping through the empty belt buckles.

"Good morning, sweetheart," Jayce greets you, you smile, pressing your head against his back with a giggle before letting go without a word, watching as Jayce frowns, your heart swelling as you place yourself on the countertop and open your arms, wiggling your fingers as you both laugh. You pull Jayce in by the collar of his shirt- kissing him gently on the lips before moving across his jaw, stopping to cup his cheek as he nuzzles into your palm.

"I love you, Jayce."

"I love you too, always and forever."

"Kiss me?" you ask, eyes pleading, and how could he refuse?

Jayce presses his forehead against yours before capturing your lips. Pulling away, you both are breathless, you look to the side to see only your favourite breakfast items on the menu with a smile- gosh I missed your cooking.

When you look back at Jayce, your eyes go wide seeing him kneeling before you, a box in his hands, blood rushing up to your ears as you jump down from the countertop. "J-jayce? what are you doing?" you stutter through shock, your heat racing at a mile a minute.

"Not going to marry you just yet, through you will be Mrs. Talis in the future," Jayce speaks with such conviction, your heart is beating at a mile a minute. "With this ring I want to promise you that no matter what, I will always put your thoughts and needs first and I will always love you." A goofy love-sick grin is on his face but his eyes are scared yet equally hopeful. You crouch down with him, wrapping your arm around his shoulder as you cry.

Jayce's heart drops, he can't seem to touch you in this moment, can't look to you for comfort. Not feeling him returning the touch, you pull away, seeing his glossy eyes, "Whats wrong?" you ask timidly, listening to the ring drop.

Jayce opens and closes his mouth before falling back, hissing and gripping at his wrist. "Jayce? You're scaring me," you reach out again yet he slides away swearing- looking to be in immense pain, his eyes clouding over and then silence... his body falls before you as you grasp and squeeze his hand, calling back for him.

And then suddenly, he flashes back to life, gripping his head, beads of sweat dripping off his forehead, "fuck, wait, did you say yes?" He completely disregards his pain, forcing on a smile for you as you sit there in shock and horror.

"Of course, Jayce but what the fuck? Are you okay?" you ask again, giving him space this time. Jayce's stares at you, stares through you for a moment before sighing and shaking his head. "I will be after this all is over but I'm better knowing I'll have you forever." You smile at his words, brain still racing with what just happened but Jayce appeared back to his regular self now, helping you to stand and finishing up breakfast.

"Sit, please. Let me take care of you like you've done for me," Jayce asks, turning from the stove with soft eyes, and how could you refuse?

─────── · ·

─ · · A/N: running away and hiding now! I hope that all was at least readable/skippable... 😬

─ · · JAYCE TALIS TAGLIST: @sseleniaa @sunshiines-stuff @kiromiix @todorokishoe24 @w2momo @m-arj-1 @reid490 @kaminocasey @chickenlvr123

─ · · SERIES MASTERLIST

[urfriendlywriter]

How to write angst ?

@urfriendlywriter | req by @everynowandthenihaveacrisis @aidyaiden :)

know your character. from their deepest fears to what they cherish the most. know your deepest fear, ask yourself how you will react and feel at that moment. "oh shit, if this happened to me I'll lose my mind" what's that type of scenario for you? write it. :)

decide on the type of angst you are going for!

major, minor, physical, emotional, paranormal, spiritual, verbal, abusive, quarrel, misunderstanding, etc.

and then, decide on--what reaction you can take out of your character by doing what to them.

are they gonna be, held at a gunpoint to give something up? or have their soul wrecked by whom they thought were close to them? or is it going be horror, or etctec, decide on it.

moving on to actually writing it-

Tip 1 - Use sensory details.

her eyes brimmed with tears

his chest heaved

pain clawed at his heart, as his face twisted with hurt

his scream pierced my heart

her lips quivered

she dug her nails into her palms (to distract herself, to stop it from shaking, etc)

show what is happening to ur MC, instead of telling it.

Tip 2 - how to actually write it.

If they're panicking, make them notice too many things at once, show every detail that they're seeing, feeling, from touch, to that burning sensation on their eyes, the blood on the ground, that dryness of their throat, the buzzing in their head and their parted lips unable to trust their own sight, and--and, boom! have them register that they're really really in trouble. and that they've to act fast.

use short, very minimal type of writing for this. make it long, but not long enough that it feels like it's being dragged.

the readers should hold themselves back from skimming the page out of curiousity, they should be in their toes to find out what happens next.

what does your MC do in times of panic? do they chant calm down to themselves, do they get angry, or start crying.. or?? what makes your character genuinely feel an emotion so hard that they'll burst?

there's always something, someone that'll always give them love and easily can be that something or someone to take it away. yk.

Tip 3 - crying.

what is close to your character that u can deprive them of? will it make them cry? beg for it?

what will make ur character cry so hard, that their scream fills everyone's ear, stays in their minds like ghosts and always haunts them?

make a character who never cries, burst out with tears.

while writing crying, focus on the 5 senses, one after the other.

focus it on their breath, make them run out of breath, gasp for air, feel like they're being choked, cry so scrutinizingly. it shud punch the reader's gut.

have them replay what had just happened over and over again in their head

best books and writing styles (for angst) to analyse and learn from (in my opinion);

3rd book in the AGGTM series (yk it hit hard like a truck. it got me depressed in bed the entire time lmao)

Five Survive by Holly Jackson. The moments of red outside of the truck, and moments leading to it.

there's this book called " Warm by @untalentedwriter127 " in wattpad. the author served angst for breakfast, lunch anddd dinner.

and if there's more angsty ones, drop em in the comments! :)

Hope this helps, tag me when yall write a masterpiece! ;)

[thyhauntedmansion]

“Nina is fine! She’s gonna come back!” I say as I’m put in a straight jacket, being escorted to Arkham.

[faetima]

𝐝𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐞𝐧𝐝. .

. . now he's truly all alone in this world.

// tws ; slight cursing, blood ; gn reader ; modern au, hanahaki au 

a/n: part two to dear. my darling !!

sorry it took so long, i have finals soon so ive been busy studying

aventurine stood at the doorway in utter shock.

you lied on the wooden tiled flooring of your apartment, blood smeared across your lips.

your apartment reeked of rotten flowers and, when he looked down, marigolds were splayed everywhere. single flowers, a few petals, clumps of them--they were all covered in splotches of dried burgundy blood.

aventurine snapped back to his senses. you were laying there, completely still, and he was just standing?

he took a sharp inhale and rushed forward. kneeling down by your side, he immediately placed a hand on your neck to feel your pulse. maybe he was just overreacting, right? he always seemed to do that when it came to you. maybe you were laying there completely unresponsive, but you couldn't be dead or anything! maybe you just fell asleep or fainted or-

he felt no pulse.

your skin was frigid, cold to the very touch. your lips and fingertips were blue, body and face bruised. splotches of black and blue covered you, and your glassy eyes looked forward, never blinking.

aventurine felt his heart drop.

you were dead.

he sobbed and sobbed for hours next to your body, hugging it tight. why was he so fucking stupid? if he had just talked to you or paid more attention or hadn't agreed to break up and had said he wanted to talk things through first maybe, just maybe, you wouldn't be lying here dead, surrounded by the pungent scent of rotting marigolds.

aventurine broke out into a coughing fit. gently lowering your body to the ground, he brought one hand up to cover his mouth.

his coughing ceased.

he lowered his hand.

in the middle of his palm laid one bright yellow petal.

[stardella]

Making fanart for my own espilver fanfic? Couldn’t be me :/

Next to you, I laid softly on this hard ground on Ao3

[starheavenly]

Locket's first night on the LL. (They end up not being able to find their room and they pass out in the hallway)

[allthingswhumpyandangsty]

y’all… characters drinking alcohol (in fanfics) is not “dead dove do not eat”

character death alone is not “dead dove do not eat”

angst alone is not “dead dove do not eat”

whump alone is not “dead dove do not eat”

self-harm (in fanfics) alone is not “dead dove do not eat”

suicide (in fanfics) alone is not “dead dove do not eat”

infidelity (in fanfics) alone is not “dead dove do not eat”

BDSM / smut / rough sex (in fanfics) alone is not “dead dove do not eat”

even non-con (in fanfics) alone is not necessarily always “dead dove do not eat”

of course, any of the topics mentioned above can be “dead dove do not eat” if it’s written in extremely graphic details in the nature that will sicken your readers / in a way that can make your readers throw up and say what the actual fuck / if it’s the main plot of your story. but taboo topics alone are not “dead dove do not eat”. I’m saying this because I’ve seen people use “dead dove do not eat” tag in stories that only mention a taboo subject once and it’s one sentence or one paragraph long, and that is… not what the tag is for.

for instance, if your story contains non-con, but it’s not explicitly written in graphic details / it’s not written in a way that can make your readers throw up and say what the actual fuck / it’s not the main focus of your work / it’s only one or two paragraph long, tag it as “rape/non-con” accordingly, but it does not warrant the “dead dove do not eat” tag.

sure, you can say it’s “not that deep” and that it’s all just “made up fandom stuff”, but it can also make it more difficult for people who want to avoid the tag or people who seek out the tag specifically to curate their experiences if the tag isn’t being used correctly the way it's supposed to be used.

I’ve explained what “dead dove do not eat” as a tag means and how you can properly use it here.

but to make it as simple as possible, this is basically the meaning of “dead dove do not eat” tag 👇🏻

(so no, the tag isn’t about character going through a nasty breakup and drowning themself in alcohol or character getting drunk and having sex they end up regretting)