#i don't feel like asking for my teacher all the time

[nuclearnyx]

not that anyone asked but:

i love the process for the feeling that im becoming more than myself. it activates a "middle" brain space that makes me very aware of who i am and how time moves all around me, but at the same time, I'm detached.

i hate the process because it's painful. physically demanding, emotionally draining. grief is a constant. i have to trust my own decisions. i am never alone in the studio—i am always accompanied by family, teachers, mentors—and it takes active work on my part to decide when to take their advice.

i love the result because it's proof that i did something. it can and most likely will gain me some sort of attention. as someone who often doesn't feel like a "real person," it's very nice to be authentically myself and receive validation for it. people don't always listen to me when i speak, but they do listen when i paint.

i hate the finished product because it inspires fear for the "next thing." i am aware of myself and of time once again, but in a stressful way. i know i'll soon start another painting and experience all of everything all over again.

and so it goes.

Responses on my post about this are all over the map, but it looks like most people who create art do so just out of a need to create art, even though they find the actual steps and process to be totally unfun or even annoying to do.

It appeared from notes to be a bit rarer that people draw or write out of loving the work process itself. Lets find out!

[coldilikeit]

Isekai reader x Batfam (Neglected au)

Female reader

Chapter 6- The mission is non-existent

TW: School shooting

______________________________

Damian looks around the room, it feels more like an apartment rather than a room

"No wonder the miss rarely comes down for food, with the amount of kitchen appliances here she'd rival a small town restaurant..." Alfred chuckles, he looks at the expensive, top grade materials

"There's nothing in the fridge though..." Jason grumbles, Duke is asleep beside you holding your hand and Bruce admires the scene "That's enough, stop rummaging through your sister's stuff"

He looks around your room, pictures of your friends, you at parties, you at school events, how the fuck?, you held your own charity gala? How??? Where did you get the money? How did this not reach him?

"hng- ow- What the fuck!?" You wake up and you see the cast of the Addams family surrounding you

"Don't try to overdo it" Dick helps you sit up

"Huh?"

Reader! You are fucked, everyone's hatred meter has gone down to 10%, EVEN DAMIAN AND JASON'S METER

You shift further away from Dick, his gaze turns sad sensing your discomfort with him, he really needs to change that

"Is there something you need?" Duke asks, he holds your hand tight, "Do you need us to do something?" Asked Tim

"Can you all please leave my room..." You say and you see that Bruce hesitates "Are you sure? You might need assistance?"

Reader, make them go away, it keeps on dropping! If it reaches zero you'll fail!

"There's no need, it was just fear gas..."

_____________________________

School was absolute shit.

Damian had pulled you away from your friends to eat with you during recess, you'd also found out Tim bribed the principal to switch your classes so you'd have the same as his

Some of your friends are annoyed that your siblings are meddling, they've never eaten lunch with you before? Why now? And others are cooing, they've never seen you interact with your siblings, and the fact your gentler with your friends than your siblings makes them happy

Your teachers are grateful that you manage to tame Damian

"(Name)! I watched your violin concert last night! You were amazing!" Says a student, you smile "Thank you!"

Then the student's mood shifts "I heard that the route you were taking home was attacked by both the Joker and Scarecrow right? Are you okay?" They ask, the surrounding students get curious but don't necessarily engage

"yeah... I'm fine" you say, you're trying to think of ways to differentiate the topic, the student gasps "Oh but I saw on the news that you were one of scarecrow's victims! And that you inhaled the fear gas..." She says as she smirks, "I don't really want to talk about it, and I'm fine..." You answer

"Oh but-" Damian grabs her arm and pushes her away from you "She says she doesn't want to talk about it? Why are you pushing?! Are you really worried or you just wanted gossip?" He snarls

You see the girl wince but smiles anyway "ah right... Sorry"

And then it hit... An attack? It hits your school so fast, the students scream and panic, "Everyone out!" Shouted a security guard, you hear a bunch of gunshots in the halls and the screams from that direction become quieter until it stopped completely see

Are you serious?

A school shooting.

Never in your original years and reincarnated years combined have you ever been so fucking scared and pissed off at the same time

First and foremost, you just survived the mother fucking scarecrow, now you have to survive guns?

Damian holds your hand and runs away with you, "What are you doing!? You're supposed to save people!?' you whisper-yell to him, he gets you to a hidden area and hands you a small dagger he hid in his socks, he looks at you worryingly "Stay here, wait till I get back-"

"They've been apprehended!" yelled a student, "Well... There's no need for that huh?", slowly you and Damian walk out of the room to see what happened? Did another bat get them already? Was it Tim?

Then you see her.

In a hero costume, trapping the shooters with what seem to be magical ropes, her costume design looked like it was stolen from my hero academia

"There's no need for all of you to worry, for I Protagonist has taken care of them, they'll be handed over to the police" she says

"Did she really name herself 'Protagonist'?" Tim comes from behind you looking baffled at the name choice

"At least she saved us" you say

_____________________________

Hey so do you guys remember that one comment about the family couch on chapter 2? And how all the years of living there you never sat on it? Well after days of the family trying to get you to watch a movie with them on the couch, you confessed you feel weird about sitting somewhere sacred to them

You come home after volunteering at a soup kitchen that the family couch is gone, replaced by a new pristine couch with comfortable pillows

Stephanie smiles at you "You're back! Wash up, the family is watching a movie" mixed in her voice a tone of dominance, you can't say no

You find yourself huddled up, you feel yourself sweating as Tim curls up on you and Cass is leaning on your shoulder, Dick hand you the remote "You pick" she says

You scroll for a few moments and you feel the family get a bit impatient, so you click on the nearest movie you find

Bad idea.

It was a movie about a dog being abandoned by their owner in a hike and as they try to find their way home they die

You're in shambles, you've watched people die in movies, either terminal illnesses, a series of unfortunate events, murder, you've cried to some, some didn't phase you

But a sad dog movie?

You are wrecked, Jason hands you your 3rd tissue pack, your inconsolable, you hate animals getting sad endings, the. Titus licks your hand, Damian brought him to console you, while Bruce chooses another movie, this time he chose a dog movie with a happy ending, you hugged Titus the whole night

It happened to you before, when you and your friends were in a really lengthy assembly, they fell asleep on your shoulders, you made it your mission to not move at all, you didn't want to wake them, you liked that they learned on you for comfort

But Tim and Cass sleeping on you, you have no idea what to do, your instincts that you got because of your friends tell you to stay still so they'd be comfortable

Another part of you is screaming that if you don't move the hatred meter will go down

And go down it did

Everyone is down to 2%, you can't let it get to zero, you can't

Bruce looks at you "(Name) about your upcoming 16th birthday-"

He sees you asleep, he smiles and admires his children

Matter of fact you were just pretending to be asleep, if you hear another birthday party plan you'll die, last year you had that Damian excuse, but now? You're out of reasons to not have that stupid party

So you sleep...

Oh well look at all of you...

What a happy family.

You're done for.

_____________________________

Damian: I need to place (Name) in a safe space before helping

Protagonist: the job is done

Tim: Tacky fucking name

_____________________________

@jellyedkazoo @vanilliona @shyenemyperson @popboomcha @plsfckmedxddy @devotedlyshamelessdetective @dorkatron-2000 @yuyuzi-ling @sweetsugerskull @butratherbutrather @yu-reiii @clementinesyummy @lfiee @iamapotatoe @type-ink @unknownloner1345 @randomlyappearingartist @justatimidcreator

[dark-night-hero]

Imagine being Sung Jinwo's significant other, who was with him through thick and thin. Someone who was very close to his family and would often fill in the gaps in his life and family.

Imagine doing your normal routine in the mornjng into to look into the calendar and saw today's date marked up with a note that says parent teacher conference causing you to blink, still sleepy. First of all, you've graduated high-school and is a worker and a part-time hunter. Second, you don't have a child let alone a sibling that's going to scho- oh!

"Sung Jinwo!" You scream as soon as he picked up the phone. You heard a groan and a bit of shuffling before you heard a deep husky voice on the phone "Hmmm? Morning." Followed by a chuckle. "Did you just woke up?" He asked causing you to roll your eyes. "No." You lied with a pout. He knew you very well. "You should get ready, Jin-Ah's parent teacher conference meeting is in three hours." "I know, thats why I called you. I thought you were still asleep." "Come on now darling, I'm not a sleepyhead like you." He laughs.

Imagine Jinwo who was on the other side of the phone, just woke up and is now making his way into the kitchen, chuckling as he listen to your rebut with a smitten look on his face, after all, there was nothing he would trade for as long as your voice is what greeted him as he wake up in the morning. "Shall I pick you up at your place so we could go in there together?" "Nah, your house route is completely on the opposite direction of mine. Let's just meet on the school grounds okay?" "Alright." He replied with a smile on his face. "Well then I need to get going now." "Alright, you do take your time to get ready." He tease

"I love you" You heard him say as you almost ended the call due to this teasing. "I love you too." You replied with a small smile on your face. "See you later babe" "I told you not to call-" "Love you! bye!" "Sung Jinwo you punk!" Although you said that with such annoyance, there was a hind of happiness in your eyes that you cannot deny.

Imagine silently waiting for him at the school gates, playing on your phone with some random blocks game when you heard a familiar step coming close causing you to look up only for your eyes to squint as you try to get a grip of reality if your boyfriend was actually the one jogging right in front of you right now.

"Hi." He said with a cheeky grin on his lips as you stare at him wide eyes. "You- your hair." You utter as you reach out and touch his undercut, causing a shiver down his spine as you do. "Yeah I though a little hair cut wouldn't be so bad, my hair was getting long. Why? Does it not look good-?" "No. No Jinwo. You're... beautiful." You utter with a soft smile and proceeded to mess up his hair. "Funny, we used to be by each others height but now you're taller than me." You whispered. "What was that?" "Nothing, let's get going, its almost time."

Imagine noticing the stare and murmurs that the two of you were receiving ever since the two of you have gotten inside the building and eventually to the room where the meeting is about to be held. And to be honest, you honestly cannot blame the students for gossiping and looking at your way because even Jian-Ah was surprised to see her brother's new look upon seeing him. But the way the young adult, one who seemed to be in the same age as you and your lover, probably the sisters of the other students looked at Jinwo that makes you sigh.

Imagine, it was easy to see the changes that was happening with Jinwo. His growth spurt, this strength and abilities were slowly catching everyone's attention. In comparison to the Jinwo you have grown up with, there was this feeling of confusion and anxiety of not being able to keep up with him. You know you should be glad that he was no longer the weak he once was but at the same time, there was this fear of being left behind by him. But you knew for a fact that he would not leave you behind, that's why you fear that you would rather become a burden for hi- "Ouch!"

"You're thinking of something stupid again." "You bas-! That hurts!" You complain as you clutch your forehead, glaring at your lover who was slurping his ramen without care. "You deserve it for thinking about something stupid." "I- I'm not thinking of something stupid." You utter, looking away from him, down into your ramyeon. It's not stupid for what you are thinking was a fact, a truth that hurts to admit.

Imagine the way he slowly reach out and touch your forehead, caressing the spot where he had flicked you earlier. "Sorry, does it hurt?" When he said that with such lovely look on his face, how could you not soften? "No, I was over reacting." You smile gentle at him and lean on his touch. "Still, I'm sorry." "It's alright Jinwo."

"Thank you for bring me home-" You were cut off with a pair of lips. Wide eye, you cannot help but to be taken a back by your lover's action. Nevertheless you soon melt into the kiss and kissed him back, even hooking your arms around his neck, pulling him closer. "Thank you for staying by my side all those years." He said as the two of you pull away from each other but still close enough that your foreheads where touching. "I love you and only you. There will be no one else, okay?" "Okay." You chuckle and hug him. Right there was no use in being scared when it was obvious whom he loves. "I love you too."

[ⓒdark-night-hero] 2025°

: I want to write an angst, not sure if Jinwo would be a fit or a blue lock or Genshin character would be a nice victim.

[ethereallyjade]

Pick a Card: How Will Next Semester Go?

Choose a photo that calls to you and the cards will tell you a message. As always, this is just for fun. Do not take anything seriously or above legal or medical advice. If you're interested in personal tarot readings and want to support me, check out my Paid Readings! Masterlist

1 - 4

Images are not mine

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ℙ𝕚𝕝𝕖 𝟙

It's gonna be real smooth. You're getting it all put together. I'm sensing that many of you may be graduating this semester. Older sibling/senior energy. There's a sense of everything finally coming together or something wrapping up nicely. Something is finished. I'm hearing 'Good riddance!' Signed, sealed, and delivered!

Your grades are going to be gorgeous. There's some kind of celebration, lots of smiling. You're going to feel very happy and abundant this upcoming semester. You'll have all your ducks in a row and feel very ready for whatever is next for you.

ℙ𝕚𝕝𝕖 𝟚

I'm getting a kinda ridged energy here, but you guys will make it through. You might have a really hard class this semester, but I'm seeing that the thing that's standing in your way the most is yourself. Do not be afraid to ask for help: talk to your teachers, find tutors, watch youtube videos, etc. Put the time in. But most of all, don't allow negative thinking to get in your way. Don't tell yourself that you're gonna fail or that you can't do it, especially before the class even starts. That kind of self talk feels like nothing in the moment, but if you keep doing it it will affect you in the long run and not only adds unnecessary stress on you but can lead to other disorders. So, like, nip in before it gets out of hand.

Give yourself the chance, do your best. You might not get the grade you want, but you will pass this class or whatever it may be. Things might start rough or confusing, but I'm seeing that you'll start catching on towards the end. So, just put in that extra work when you can and you'll be fine.

ℙ𝕚𝕝𝕖 𝟛

Similar to the last group, things might be a struggle at first, but you will catch on fast. Are some of you doing something new? A freshman? I keep seeing a young person going into college for the first time. Like, they didn't take things seriously, they were partying, going out to eat too much, hanging with friends, not doing homework, but then something happens and they're like 'Oh sh*t, this is real.' Can you relate to this? I'm seeing that you're gonna get hit with that wave of 'Oh, I actually have to lock in this time around.' There will be no avoidance or immature behavior this semester. The cards are saying to start getting your sh*t together lmao.

Not to wish bad fortune on any of you, but I'm really getting the sense of like... you will fail if you don't put in the effort. Like, go talk with your advisors, talk to your teachers, get a calendar. Everything you need to succeed is right in front of you, but no one can help you if you never ask. Watch your spending habits, don't cheat, do your homework, surround yourself with supportive good people, organize you work and time. This semester is really what you make it.

ℙ𝕚𝕝𝕖 𝟜

I'm seeing giddy, more energetic, friends, and fun. This is a more laid back semester. You've been working hard, been very mature in your schooling so far, and I'm seeing that you'll just be reaping the rewards from your past efforts. Maybe you'll be working on a passion project or doing an internship. Something that doesn't feel like real work, because you'll be so into it. You'll be feeling stable and calm this semester, feeling accomplished and just better.

You might be getting more popular. I keep seeing that kind of student that walks into any room or class and just knows somebody. If that's not you, you might just be a familiar face to a lot of people because they've seen you all over campus or at events. Either way, others are starting to recognize you for something. If you don't have good and supportive friends already, you might find them this semester.

[project-sekai-news]

The Pegasus - An Interview

Welcome back to PJSK News! I'm your host, Tenma Saki, and because Hoshino couldn't be here today, I have brought a special guest! Special guest, how about you introduce yourself?

Good evening, everyone! I am Tenma Tsukasa, a world star! Many of you know me by my stage name, the Pegasus!!! Saki here is actually my little sister!

Hehe, Onii-chan, no headpats on camera! Anyway.. I have all the interview questions right here! Are you ready?

More than ready! Shoot!

Okay! First question: Tumblr user @sillystringstar asked: "Dear, Pegasus, why the horse name?"

That's an easy one! My surname, Tenma, means 'pegasus!' Therefore, I thought it only fitting to use that as my stage name!

I knew that one! Hehe, then I could use that as my pen name whenever I write articles! ..On second thought, that might be a little confusing.

Let's see, the next question is.. by @ithappenedonroute66 !! "If you are a star, then are you the sun and going to explode in the far future?"

E-er, you see, I'm not that kind of star! I'm a great and talented performer kind of star! BUT! I will explode in a blaze of glory in the future! You'll see, Saki, and uh.. it-happens-route-6!

I'll be waiting! ... user @agoist asked, "Why did you make that young girl cry by yelling “Dance and Sing” at her?"

Wh-where'd you here that from?! Ahem, I mean, the problem is solved! The girl was looking for her mom, is all! With Rui's help, the girl found her mom safe and sound, so you needn't worry about anything!

We're just going to ignore the fact that I blabbed.. next question, by @crime-soncloud! "Pegasus, what are your thoughts on the work of this news network, and what do you feel should be reported on more?"

This is a brilliant news network, run by my dear sister Saki and her friends! I try my best to listen to every single one of their reports! ..Though I haven't listened to the one about Akito yet! I've been a bit busy lately...

As for what should be reported on! I believe everything Saki and her friends report on needs their full attention! That being said, I recommend other Sekai's! So far, PJSK News has only reported on evnets happening around Shibuya Sekai, so if they could branch off to other Sekai's, I think that would be very cool!

Ooh, good idea! I'll talk to Ichi about that! Uh - also, the Akito going to jail one isn't that big of an event, haha..! There's no need for you to watch it!

Oh, really? Well, whatever you say, Saki!

Hehe, great! This next one is by.. @ova-kakyoin !! "what is your favorite part of performing? other than people smiling and having fun watching of course."

Hmm.. I'd say getting to know my fellow actors better! You mustn't only care for your audience! The wellbeing of the people you're performing with is also very important!

Well said! Okay.. user @sanri0add1ct asked, "dear Pegasus, why do you call your lunch a luncheon?"

Ah! 'Tis a name only fit for the glorious lunch eaten by the Pegasus!

You always put so much care into the lunches you make for yourself and me! Thank you, Onii-chan!

Anything for you, Saki! What's the next question?

Mm.. @25jpeg is wondering, "dear Pegasus what's your deal with Kamishiro?"

Ah, Rui! Hmm.. I'm not too sure what you mean by that!

Of course you know what they mean! Hm, like.. how he's always teasing you! Or.. oh! I heard from Toya that he sometimes sees the teachers chasing you two around the school~! Ooh, or maybe when you were rehearsing Ro -

Wait a minute! Where did you hear this?!

Well, I picked up the teasing one by myself, and like I said, Toya told me about how the teachers chase you two...

Ugh.. to think my wonderful fans would take our relationship like this..

Time for me to clear things up! ..Everyone, Rui is not bullying me!

...Huh..?

There! Now people won't think Rui is being mean! Rui is my great friend!

Onii-chan... hm. Don't worry everyone, he'll realize his feelings soon enough!

..My feelings..?

Anyway, next question~! @calleigator asked, "Mr. Pegasus Tenma, what are your thoughts on the ongoing apple pie thefts and what are you going to do about it?"

The apple pie thefts? Ah, I remember you and Hoshino reporting on this! I hope the thief will stop stealing apple pies and instead be a good citizen and pay for everything that they stole!

That's a lot of money to pay considering how many pies they stole...

But stealing is no good! As the Pegasus and a world star, I should be setting a good example for all the young children out there! Everyone, if you're listening, don't steal!

Aw, you're such a good influence! That's my brother for you!

Haha! You're a great sister too, Saki!

Ahem.. "Dearest Pegasus, your light shines brighter than any other. What do you plan to do about those who melt in your presence?" - asked by @monkie-see-monkie-do!

Melt in my presence..? Ah, I see, they melt because of my greatness! Well, my marvelous fan, if you melt in my presence, no need to panic! My light revives as well as melts!

Ooh, great answer! This next question is the last one, by @closegamecamo !! "Pegasus, what are your thoughts on those fake insects at stores?"

Fake insects..? Ugh, why would you ask me that.. er, I don't even remember what they look like!

That's fine! I brought one here with me just in case!

You wha - aaAAAAAAGGH!!

Haha, Onii-chan! It's just a caterpi - ahh, he fell down!

Eek! T-Tenma-senpai..? Is he okay?

Don't worry about it, Kohane! He'll be fine.. probably..

ONII-CHAN! The interview's still going!

..urk...

Ah, maybe it's a good time to stop..

Bye everyone! I hope your questions were answered by the great and glorious star, Tenma Tsukasa, the Pegasus! Let's keep this little incident between us, 'kay? Bye bye~!

..ugh.. aah, wait! Farewell, my wonderful fa - !

[arilevenatz]

Ideal Trip

Pairing: San x reader

Genre: Action, fluff

Word count: 15.2k (💀)

Warnings: San is kinda not a nice man at first, but then he is!, blood, monsters getting mutilated, but it's for like 5 seconds so don't worry.

AN: I legit had a dream of this. This dream happened after crazy form teaser pics dropped and I had this in my drafts for that many days. I hope y'all like this as well. Please consider liking and pls reblog as it motivates me to write more!

The school that we are currently standing in front of is called 'The Ideal School'. Literally, that's it's name. Talk about overestimation. Even though it is called so, it is nothing like your average good school.

You see, it's an old school. Older than I can remember. Heck, my father was a student at this school.

And we came here to give an exam, a Mock test in particular. Some of our friends applied for this. Well, their parents did. And me you ask? I was here because, and these are my mom's words, "you will give the exam because all of your friends are giving it".

Yeah me and dad thought it was bullshit.

But as both of us are scared of her shouting and making the house a circus, I decided to give it.

And so here we are, sitting inside one of the classrooms on the ground floor. My classmates were there, as well as students from other schools.

The walls here are really old, covered in writings that stretch across the walls, doors, and windows. It feels so different from my school, and I can’t help but find it a bit strange.

Time passed and we were just chatting when all of a sudden there was this commotion in the corridor.

Us being curious little kids we went outside. We somehow got to know that a boy has been found sneaking in the canteen and going through the food stash.

I don't know why, but all of us went there. Why? To see the commotion there? Tsk, kids.. where is the canteen?

Reaching the canteen, we saw that the child who had dared to sneak in was being scolded. The teacher was saying something about punishing the kid. The kid, no older than 10, looked traumatized by the screaming teacher.

They are pretty strict with this" I asked one of my friends.

"I wouldn't last a day here" she replied with a chuckle.

I heard one of my other classmates say something but before that a high pitched sound pierced my ears.

My hands instinctively flew to my ears as black spots began to creep into my vision. And then, everything went dark.

Aw come on I came here to give a test not to pass out. Get up you weak ass bitch.

You do wake up, but not where you expect. This isn’t The Ideal. It’s your school. The one four stations away.

What. The. Hell.

The bell rings. The freaking bell.

You try to calm yourself, but panic bubbles up. You’re in your classroom, lying on one of the benches. Groggily, you push yourself up using your elbows and glance around.

Beside you, someone stirs.

“Wake up,” you mutter, shaking her.

“Five more minutes,” she grumbled.

“This isn’t your house! We’re at school!”

“School?!”

She bolt upright, eyes wide and frantic, looking more like a confused puppy than anything else.

The two of you quickly realize you’re in your classroom. Familiar, but something about it feels… off.

“Should we go out?” she ask softly, looking at the door.

“Yeah, let’s go.”

You peek out first. The hallway is unsettlingly quiet. Too quiet. Something feels very, very wrong.

The two of you head to the neighboring classroom, where your other friends sit cluelessly at their desks.

“Surprise, motherfuckers,” you announce.

“Ah!”

“So, what’s the deal?” you ask, ignoring their startled expressions.

“The stork?” one of them jokes, earning her a glare sharp enough to cut steel.

You sigh. "We need to figure this out. Let’s go.”

As the defacto leader of your little group, your friends all look at you for guidance. You don’t remember volunteering for the job, but it’s become second nature by now.

The layout of the school flashes in your mind—there’s the main building, the field, the stage at the far end, and the smaller two-story building beside it, home to the singing room. It’s always been your favorite spot.

Stepping outside, you’re greeted by chaos.

No, worse than chaos. Something you can’t explain.

Students, rows upon rows of them, march silently across the school grounds like lifeless puppets. Their faces are blank, their movements robotic.

And suddenly, you’re alone.

You whirl around. Where are they? Your friends who were just right here. You rack your brain, desperate to remember, but all you get are fragments: the classroom, the field, the students, their uniforms.

But the uniforms are wrong. These kids aren’t wearing your school uniform. They’re dressed in plain white—head to toe.

A chill runs down your spine.

You look down at yourself. Your uniform’s still intact: white shirt, blue skirt, tie. No jacket, though. Why the hell didn’t the school provide winter coats? It’s freezing.

Your breath comes out in shaky puffs as you call out for your friends.

Nothing.

The silent students turn to look at you, their blank faces unnerving.

“What are you looking at?” you mutter, backing away instinctively.

Before you realize it, you’re standing in the middle of the field. How did you get here? Your legs feel like they’re moving on their own.

Your mind races. This has to be a nightmare. Right?

Your feet carry you toward the singing room, up the stairs of the two-story building. Maybe it’s your love for music—or the connection you’ve always had with the music teacher—but something about this place feels… safe.

The door to the music room looms in front of you, larger than usual. Slowly, you push it open.

Inside, your teacher sits at the piano, but something is horribly wrong.

He’s completely black. Not in a racial sense—his entire body is an inky void, like a shadow brought to life. The contrast is so stark it makes your chest tighten.

You stagger back, trying to be as silent as possible, but the universe seems to hate you. Your shoe scrapes against the floor.

The shadow turns to face you.

Your breath catches. For a moment, it doesn’t move. Slowly, you back away, step by step, until you’re near the stairs.

And then, it bolts toward you.

Your legs carry you down the stairs, sprinting as fast as they can. The ‘krt krt’ sound of the thing chasing you sends shivers down your spine.

You run across the field, not daring to look back. The students don’t react, as if this is all normal to them.

Your heart pounds in your chest as you collapse onto the stairs, exhaustion seeping into your bones. You wrap your arms around yourself, trying to shield your face as if it’ll protect you from whatever is coming. The sound of your own ragged breathing fills your ears, but it’s soon overtaken by another noise.

It’s faint at first—a low, guttural growl, followed by the unsettling ‘krt krt’ sound that echoes in your mind. Your chest tightens. You don’t dare look up.

It’s here.

You brace yourself, every nerve in your body screaming for you to move, but your muscles refuse to obey. Your breath catches as the sound grows louder, closer, until you swear you can feel its presence looming over you.

This is it.

And then, it happens.

A sharp, metallic sound slices through the air, followed by an agonized screech that makes your blood run cold. You flinch, instinctively pulling your arms tighter around your head. The screeching stops abruptly, replaced by silence so heavy it feels like the world itself is holding its breath.

When you dare to look up, your eyes widen.

There, standing a few feet away, is someone you’ve never seen before.

The first thing you notice is the knife in his hand—long, sleek, and dripping with blood. The blade glints faintly under the dim light, a cruel contrast to the dark substance staining it.

Then your gaze travels upward.

His silhouette is sharp and commanding, radiating a quiet intensity that sends a shiver down your spine. He's tall, with a posture that exudes confidence and danger all at once. But it’s his face that steals your breath away—delicate yet fierce, almost otherworldly. His features are so striking it’s hard to tell if he's beautiful or terrifying.

But the most jarring detail is his hair.

Bright fiery red with black highlights, with contrast to his pale face, the colors clash in a way that should look ridiculous but instead feels hauntingly perfect. The contrast is mesmerizing, drawing your eyes like moths to a flame. You don’t even like red, but on them, it feels… powerful.

He glanced down at the lifeless black figure sprawled across the ground, his expression unreadable. Blood pools beneath it, the deep crimson stark against the pale concrete.

For a moment, it’s like time itself has frozen.

Your savior turns, his piercing gaze finally meeting yours.

It’s only for a second, but it’s enough to knock the air out of your lungs. His eyes—sharp, unyielding—cut through you like the blade they wield. There’s something chilling about the way he looks at you, as if he's staring straight into your soul.

You open your mouth to speak, but no sound comes out.

Before you can process what’s happening, he turns away.

“Wait!” you call out, scrambling to your feet despite the ache in your legs.

He doesn't stop.

You stumble forward, your mind racing with a thousand questions. Who is he? How did he know you were here? What even was that thing he just killed?

But before you can take another step, something cold wraps around your ankle, yanking you down with a force that sends you crashing to the ground.

The floor wasn’t soft, and neither was your chin. Pain radiated through your jaw as you lay there, groaning. “It hurts like a bitch,” you muttered, clutching your face.

When you glanced down, though, any complaints about the fall evaporated.

There, gripping your ankle, was a dismembered hand.

Cold, pale fingers dug into your skin, unmoving, yet somehow alive.

A guttural scream tore from your throat, raw and uncontrolled. You kicked instinctively, but it held firm. Panic rose, choking you, as you clawed at the ground to pull yourself away.

Before you could react further, like a thunderbolt, the guy reappeared. He raised the blade high and brought it down with a sickening crunch.

Again.

And again.

The hand was reduced to a mushy, unrecognizable mess as he hacked at it relentlessly. Blood splattered across the floor and your legs, and the wet, squelching noise made bile rise in your throat.

“Stop! Stop, it’s gone!” you wanted to scream, but your voice refused to come.

Finally, he crouched down, prying the mangled remains from your ankle. His fingers worked quickly, efficiently, peeling the cold digits away.

He stood up, wiping the blood from his hands on his pants, and turned to leave without a word.

“Wait!”

Your voice cracked, desperate, but it was enough to make him stop.

He froze, mid-step, but didn’t turn around.

Scrambling to your feet, you dusted yourself off and stumbled after him.

“Excuse me, mister!” you called, your voice trembling. “Can you please tell me how to get out of here?”

He turned then, slowly, and his gaze locked onto yours. He was taller than you by at least half a head, and his dark eyes bore an intensity that sent shivers down your spine.

“You…” His voice was deep, rough around the edges. “How are you talking?”

You blinked. Is he high or something?

“What?”

“And your clothes,” he continued, as if you hadn’t spoken. “They’re different. Have you… escaped the process?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you snapped, your frustration mounting. “I just want to get out of here.”

“Are you from this school?” His tone sharpened, almost accusing. “Answer me.”

“Yes, but—”

Before you could finish, his hand shot out and grabbed your arm.

His grip was like iron, unyielding, and he started dragging you forward without hesitation.

“Hey!” you yelped, tugging at his hand. “Let me go! What are you doing?”

He didn’t answer.

Your heart pounded in your chest as you struggled against his hold. “Listen, mister! I don’t know what’s going on, okay? I just woke up here, and I don’t know what the hell happened! Please, let me go!”

He stopped abruptly, spinning around to face you. His piercing gaze made your stomach churn.

“So…” He spoke slowly, as if piecing something together. “You haven’t been processed.”

“I don’t know what that means!”

His eyes raked over you, up and down.

Did he just check me out? you thought, outraged. Whoop, whoop, that’s the sound of the police!

“Follow me,” he said curtly, turning away.

You stood your ground. “No. How do I know I can trust you?”

He chuckled, the sound low and humorless. “Do you see anyone else here you trust more?”

Your lips parted, but no sound came out. Damn. He had a point.

“My name is San,” he offered. “What’s yours?”

You hesitated.

“It’s fine if you don’t trust me yet,” he added, almost kindly. “But if you want to survive, you’ll follow me.”

Against your better judgment, you nodded. Your questions could wait—surviving took priority.

As you walked behind him, you glanced down at your legs and winced. Blood streaked your socks and shoes, the sticky warmth making your stomach churn.

Noticing your hesitation, San spoke without looking back. “Where’s the nearest bathroom?”

“Huh? Oh, the men’s bathroom is—”

“Does gender matter?” he interrupted. “Just tell me the closest one.”

You sighed and led him to the bathroom in the main building. He pushed the door open and strode inside, heading straight for the sink.

“Come here,” he said, gesturing at the ground in front of him.

You hesitated. “Me?”

“Yes.”

Reluctantly, you stepped closer.

“Take off your shoes and socks,” he instructed.

“What? Why?”

“They’re covered in blood,” he said simply. “And if ‘they’ track us by your bloody footprints?”

You swallowed hard. “who are they?”

His lips quirked, almost amused. “You really have no idea, do you?”

You shook your head, confused and unnerved.

“Take them off,” he said again. “Or I’ll do it for you.”

Grumbling under your breath, you crouched down, slipping off your shoes and socks, your fingers trembling slightly. San grabbed them and rinsed the shoes under the tap.

“The socks are ruined,” he muttered, tossing them aside.

He straightened up and glanced at you. “Wait here.”

Before you could protest, he was gone.

As the silence pressed down on you, the weight of your situation finally hit. You slumped onto the edge of the sink counter, your legs weak.

What if you never got out of here?

“Are you okay?”

San’s voice startled you, and you looked up to see him holding a pair of sneakers.

“They’re not your size, but they’ll have to do,” he said, handing them to you.

You slid off the counter and slipped them on. They were too big, but at least they were clean.

“Let’s go,” he said, heading for the door.

Something about him felt off—his protectiveness, his calm demeanor in the face of chaos. Why was he helping you?

You didn’t know, but for now, you decided to trust him. You didn’t have much of a choice.

San was overjoyed. Even the strongest word for happiness couldn’t capture the overwhelming elation surging through him.

He had found a human. A real, living human—someone other than himself. And not just any human, but a student from the very school they stood in.

Finally, he could go back to his family.

Well, a makeshift family, but a family nonetheless.

A group of people who had taught him that the blood of the covenant truly was thicker than the water of the womb.

He cherished them, loved them, and would do anything to protect them. Most of all, he missed them.

Every fiber of his being screamed for him to grab this girl and force her to unlock the path. He could taste freedom—it was right there within his grasp.

But San was no brute. He prided himself on being patient and calculating. He’d use this girl the right way, ensuring they both got out safely.

Still, a pang of guilt gnawed at him. She wasn’t just a tool; she was just as lost as he was, maybe even more so. Her confusion and fear were written all over her face.

But a man had to do what a man had to do.

“Hongjoong hyung,” he murmured to himself, his voice barely audible, “I’m coming home. Just wait a little longer.”

The sound of his own voice brought a small chuckle to his lips. Damn, I must sound like a lunatic, talking to myself like this. But it didn’t matter. He had a plan, and nothing would stop him now.

---

I had been walking for what felt like an eternity. Either this guy was playing some elaborate prank on me, or he really did live on the other side of the universe.

Finally, after what seemed like ages, we stopped in front of a room.

I recognized it immediately—this used to be the teachers’ lounge.

Now, though, it looked like he had claimed it as his own.

The room was cluttered but strangely organized. In one corner, several of those stark white uniforms the kids outside were wearing hung in neat rows.

The shelves, once filled with papers and notebooks, were now stocked with weapons and strange equipment I couldn’t identify.

A large table occupied one corner, covered in maps, papers, and a small computer that looked like it had been swiped from the computer lab.

On the opposite side, there was a pile of clothes and a small mattress on the floor. A mattress. Since when did our school have those? Where did he even get it?

“It’s getting late. You should sleep,” he said, his tone casual.

I stayed rooted at the doorway. The thought of sleeping in the same room as a man—a man I had just met—made my skin crawl.

“I don’t want to,” I replied, crossing my arms.

“Okay, then don’t,” he said, shrugging as he made his way to the mattress.

And that was it. Just like that.

Feeling slightly foolish, I shuffled over to a chair by the table and sat down. That’s when I realized just how cold it was. My legs were freezing, and my arms weren’t faring much better.

I curled up in the chair, hugging my knees in a futile attempt to stay warm.

I just wanted to sleep—sleep and maybe never wake up.

“You can wear my jacket,” his voice broke the silence.

Startled, I glanced at him. He wasn’t even looking at me, his arm draped over his eyes as he lay on the mattress.

“Is it washed?” I asked skeptically.

He let out a low chuckle. “Seriously? That’s your first concern? You’re freezing, and you’re worried about whether it’s clean?”

“Well, yeah,” I muttered.

“Do you want it or not?”

“Fine, I’ll take it,” I said, too cold to argue further.

Wrapped in his jacket, I was finally warm. The thick material cocooned me, and the lingering scent of something earthy—him—filled my senses.

It was so comforting that, before I knew it, I had passed out, slumped over the table with my arms folded under my head.

"Bro, I think San has company."

"What the fuck do you mean?"

Inside a makeshift room—cramped and chaotic with tables, equipment, holo screens, and all the clutter that a group of overgrown boys would gather—two figures were hard at work.

One of them, silver-haired and deeply focused, sat hunched over his task. Across the room, a black-haired guy with glasses was multitasking, eating a chocolate bar while working with one hand.

"Geez, stop eating while working, Wooyoung."

"I do what I fucking want, Yunho."

Yunho rolled his eyes, muttering a quiet "whatever" before cupping his hands around his mouth like someone yelling into a canyon.

"I think San has companyyy!" he sang in a childish tone.

Immediately, there was the sound of something crashing. Yunho looked up to see Wooyoung scrambling over boxes to get to him.

“What the fuck do you mean, bro?"

"Don't believe me? Just watch."

Wooyoung peered at the hologram and saw it: a red dot labeled "San," but beside it, another red dot marked "Unknown."

"You think it's a processed kid?" Wooyoung asked hesitantly.

"Doesn't seem like it. If it was processed, San wouldn’t let it stay in his room for long."

"True..."

"Hello, hello."

The two boys turned toward the door, where two figures entered the room. The first, a man with brown hair in a suit, strode in confidently. Behind him, a taller man with black hair streaked with light brown highlights followed, also suited up, both with guns in hand.

"Did you kill them, Mingi?" Yunho asked.

"Ask the maknae."

"For the love of god, hyung, I’m old enough! Stop babying me," the younger one whined, despite his protests sounding anything but mature.

"Jongho-ya, did you kill them like Hongjoong hyung asked?" Wooyoung teased, giggling.

"Yes," Jongho replied proudly.

"Aww, our Jongho’s all grown up! Come here and give hyung a hug!" Wooyoung exclaimed opening his arms and skipping toward the youngest.

"Nuh-uh, hyung. I’ve got a gun in my hand. I will rat ta-ta-ta you up."

"Wooyoung, calm down!" Yunho scolded.

While the three bickered, Mingi moved to the hologram and stared at it.

"Um, I don’t know much about your holo stuff, but I’m pretty sure someone’s in San’s room right now."

The three of them stopped, looking at him in disbelief.

"What? Am I not allowed to be smart?"

"No, it’s not that, hyung. It’s just...you were never smart to begin with," Jongho muttered, earning nods of agreement from Yunho and Wooyoung.

"Wow, the disrespect! I just helped you kill those players!"

"Okay, but jokes aside," Yunho said with urgency, "San really does have someone in his room. Should we tell Hongjoong hyung and Seonghwa hyung?"

"Tell me what?"

Speak of the devil.

Hongjoong entered the room, light brown hair slightly tousled. Though shorter than the others, his aura made it impossible to underestimate him. He was flanked by Seonghwa, the group’s oldest and de facto mom, and Yeosang, who had green hair with black stripes. Although he looked like a Greek statue, his strength is not to be underestimated.

"Tell me what, Yunho?" Hongjoong asked again, his voice firm.

"San has some company," Wooyoung blurted out.

"Ooh, really?" Yeosang chimed in, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

"Yes," Yunho confirmed, walking toward the hologram and shooing Mingi aside as the others crowded around him. "If you look at this red dot, you’ll see it says 'Unknown,' which means there’s an unidentified entity with San. It could be someone processed, but honestly, I doubt it. San’s not that reckless."

"I mean, he kinda is," Seonghwa remarked dryly.

"Aren’t you all?" Jongho muttered, earning glares.

"Enough, everyone," Hongjoong commanded. "Let’s focus. Wooyoung, Yunho, can we contact San right now?"

"We could," Wooyoung said hesitantly, "but wouldn’t that alert the other person?"

"Wooyoung," Hongjoong said slowly, "our priority is to ensure San comes back safely, whatever it takes. Let’s not overthink it."

"Okay, then I’ll—"

A sudden piercing sound emanated from the hologram. Yunho’s fingers flew over the controls as he opened a new tab, revealing San’s face. He was trying to contact them.

When San woke up, it was dark outside. He looked around, and the girl was still fast asleep, slumped over the table like a rock.

He walked toward the table and sat across from her, then grabbed the computer and started typing away quickly. He had recently found a way to communicate with his family, but it was only for a limited time.

"Hello?"

"Oh, hello San! Got company?"

Straight to the point, just like his best friend.

"Kinda, yeah."

"Who is it, San?" came the voice of the leader, one of his hyungs.

"A girl."

"OoooOooo—"

"Please shut up wooyoung"

"San, why do you have a random girl in your nook?" Seonghwa, the oldest, asked, his voice stern.

"Hyung, guys... she’s from this school."

A brief silence followed. No one spoke, waiting for their captain's response. Soon, a sinister grin spread across the captain's face, sending an eerie vibe through the room.

"Well, tell me more about her, San."

---

Ugh, I hate waking up.

I stirred awake to the sound of rustling clothes. Looking up, I saw, surprise, surprise, that guy again.

San. I still don’t trust him. At least he didn’t do anything while I was asleep.

He was rummaging through the white outfits stacked in the corner.

He suddenly turned, as if he could sense me watching him. "You should wear this," he said, holding up one of the outfits.

"What’s wrong with what I’m wearing now?" I replied, feeling petty.

"Sure, if you want to get attacked by a processed, be my guest." He put the outfit back in its place.

Ever since I met this guy, he’s been going on and on about these “processed” things. What the hell even are they?

"I mean to ask… what is this processed thing you keep mentioning?"

He stared at me for a few seconds, then said, "Wear this. I’ll tell you as we venture out."

---

The outfit turned out to be surprisingly comfy. It was flexible and looked good too.

It was basically a white shirt, with a white jacket and a hood over it, paired with white trousers. Pretty neat.

We were walking down the stairs when he suddenly started speaking.

"This world is a post-apocalyptic world."

Well, that’s one way to start a conversation.

"The government wants to create emotionless puppets to work for them. This world is basically full of puppets—no talking, no expressing, and most importantly..."

I looked at him, waiting. What was he going to say?

"...no music or dance."

If this was a text conversation, I would’ve sent the crickets emoji. There’s no way in hell this man just said that.

"No… music?" I asked, my voice timid.

"Yes, no music. No dance either. My family and I have been trying to bring fun back into this world. But because of some technical issues, I had to stay here."

"So, you’re staying here for a reason?"

"Yes," San said, the lies sliding off his tongue. He didn’t have a choice. To go back, he had to lie. For his plan to work, he had to lie. Did he feel bad? Who knew. The process had almost taken his emotions away, but he escaped at the right time. "And since you’re here alone, why don’t you help me with my task?"

Okay, so he sounds sketchy, but it makes sense. Damn, this is harder than choosing which album to buy, and that shit is hard...

Okay, maybe he’s starting to become a little more tolerable.

"What kind of help?"

"For now, stop being a whiny kid and listen to me."

I take back everything I just said—this guy is still a bitch.

"I’m not whiny."

"Whatever helps you sleep at night."

I looked around and realized we were on the ground floor, near the gate of the field. It felt so strange to see it so empty.

The emptiness of the field stretched out before you, its silence almost deafening. The once-familiar grounds now felt like a foreign, lifeless expanse, devoid of the chatter, laughter, and energy that used to fill it.

San kept walking ahead, his posture straight and his steps confident, as though he had a destination in mind. You, however, lingered near the gate, staring at the field, a strange ache forming in your chest.

"Keep up," he called over his shoulder, his tone clipped. "We don't have time to waste."

Reluctantly, you followed, your footsteps echoing against the eerily quiet surroundings.

"So," you began, your voice breaking the silence. "This whole 'no music, no dance' thing... It sounds ridiculous. How does anyone even live like that?"

"They don’t. They survive," San replied without looking back.

The words hit harder than you expected. "What do you mean?"

He stopped abruptly, turning to face you. His expression was unreadable, but his eyes seemed to hold a depth of pain that made your stomach churn.

"I mean exactly that," he said. "The processed aren’t alive. They’re shells of people, controlled, used. No thoughts of their own, no emotions. Just... tools."

You shivered, though it wasn’t cold. "That’s horrifying."

"It is." His voice softened, just slightly. "That’s why my family and I were trying to change things. Music and dance... they’re not just entertainment. They’re freedom. Expression. Resistance."

You stared at him, the weight of his words sinking in. For the first time since meeting him, you saw a glimpse of something more—a passion, a purpose that made him seem less like a cold, calculated stranger and more like someone who truly cared.

"But why you?" you asked, the question slipping out before you could stop it. "Why stay behind? Why not someone else?"

San hesitated, his gaze dropping to the ground. For a moment, you thought he wouldn’t answer.

"It wasn’t supposed to be me," he admitted quietly. "But plans don’t always work out. Someone had to stay, and I was the only one who could.”

San lied straight through his teeth, the words slipping out with practiced ease. But deep down, a twinge of guilt gnawed at him. He hated deceiving you, especially when you looked at him with cautious curiosity, as though weighing whether to believe him.

He justified it to himself—he didn’t have a choice. If he told you the truth, that he was here because of a mishap, because things hadn’t gone according to plan, you’d never trust him. And trust was what he needed from you. Without it, his chances of getting back to his family, his real purpose, would slip away.

So, he buried the guilt and steeled his resolve.

You didn’t notice the flicker of hesitation in his gaze as he spoke, his voice steady and unwavering. "Helping me is the only way to survive here," he said. "Together, we can fix this world, bring back what’s been lost."

He sounded convincing, even to himself. And when you nodded, still wary but willing to listen, he let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding.

But as the two of you walked through the quiet expanse, San’s mind drifted back to the faces of his family, their smiles, their laughter. He thought of the nights spent planning, dreaming of a world where music and dance weren’t forbidden.

He clenched his fists. Lying to you wasn’t just for him—it was for them, for everything they were fighting for. He couldn’t afford to feel guilty. Not yet.

San’s mind was racing as he led you through the eerily quiet halls of the school. He knew one thing, which was informed to him prior by the captain. The principal’s office held the item he needed—the key to returning to his realm, to his family. But there was one problem: he couldn’t enter it himself. The rules of this world were annoyingly rigid—only a student or a staff member of the school could access the office.

And that meant he needed you.

He glanced at you from the corner of his eye as you followed, your expression a mix of confusion and determination. You had no idea how critical you were to his plan. Yet, despite his guilt over using you, there was no other choice.

“The principal’s office…” he began, breaking the silence. “Do you even know where it is?”

You nod your head.

San looked relieved “That'll make things easy”

You look at him, gesturing around. “Half of here looks like it’s been taken over by… whatever you call those things.”

“Processed,” San corrected. “And they’ll make reaching the office more complicated.”

You stopped walking, folding your arms as suspicion flickered in your eyes. “Why do you even need to go there? What’s so important that it can’t wait?”

He hesitated, weighing his words carefully. “It’s something that could help us. Something that might give us a chance to survive in this place.” It wasn’t entirely a lie, but it wasn’t the full truth either.

After a few minutes of standing in silence he breaks it “We need to go somewhere to get a little information first. It's for me if you're wondering”

“Library, maybe?” you suggested.

“Good idea,” he agreed. “But the library is likely crawling with processed. We’ll have to be careful.”

The path to the library wasn’t easy. Shadows seemed to stretch unnaturally along the walls, and faint, distorted murmurs echoed through the corridors. San moved with sharp, calculated precision, motioning for you to stay close.

At one point, you almost stepped on a loose tile, but San’s arm shot out, pulling you back just as a processed shuffled by, its vacant eyes scanning the hall. The two of you froze, your breath shallow as you pressed against the wall.

The position was simply vulnerable. San’s back pressed against the wall, while yours was pressed against his chest. His one hand wrapped tightly around the front of your shoulders. Another hand held onto the knife.

Once the danger passed, you whispered, “How do you know so much about avoiding them?”

San hesitated for a moment, then replied smoothly, “I’ve been here long enough to learn their patterns. Stick with me, and you’ll be fine.”

Finally, you reached the library. The massive double doors loomed before you, slightly ajar. Inside, the faint glow of flickering lights revealed rows of dusty shelves and scattered books.

But you both knew it wouldn’t be that simple. San stepped forward, scanning the room. “Stay alert,” he warned. “The processed aren’t the only thing to worry about in places like this.”

“What else is there?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Let’s hope we don’t find out,” he muttered, his hand subtly resting on the dagger strapped to his side.

The moment you entered, the library twisted into a neon-lit maze of mirrors, the air turned cold, suffocating, like the maze itself was alive and hostile. The mirrors stretched endlessly, reflecting an infinite number of you—and none of them felt right.

“San?” you called out, panic lacing your voice.

No response.

“SAN!” This time, your voice cracked, raw and desperate.

Then you heard it—a low, guttural hiss, like the sound of something primal awakening. Your heart leapt to your throat as a shadow shifted in the reflection, something dark and unnatural slithering behind the glass.

The black void creatures emerged, their shapeless forms twisting grotesquely as they crawled from the reflections into your reality. Their hollow, inky eyes locked onto you with an intensity that froze your blood.

Your legs moved before your mind could catch up, adrenaline flooding your system. You bolted down the corridor of mirrors, each step echoing with a deafening clarity. The neon lights flickered erratically, casting jagged shadows of the creatures chasing you.

Behind you, the whispers started—low, distorted murmurs that seemed to claw at your sanity. They grew louder, overlapping, forming a cacophony of voices that sent shivers down your spine.

The maze twisted and shifted with every step you took, the mirrors rearranging themselves as if mocking your attempt to escape. You turned a corner and nearly collided with a reflection of yourself. But it wasn’t you—it was something else, something hollow-eyed and smiling eerily.

You screamed and turned the other way, but the creatures were gaining on you, their movements unnaturally fluid, like shadows dragged against their will.

“SAN!” you screamed, your voice cracking as tears streamed down your face.

“I’m here!” His voice rang out, faint and distant, but it was there.

Your chest heaved as you pushed forward, your feet pounding against the mirrored floor. You glanced back and instantly regretted it. The creatures were right behind you, their forms flickering and writhing like living nightmares. One of them lunged, its clawed appendage slicing through the air just inches from your shoulder.

A burst of neon light blinded you as you stumbled forward, crashing into a mirrored wall. The surface rippled under your touch, distorting your reflection. You turned, back pressed against the glass, as the creatures closed in.

The largest of them, a towering mass of void and shadow, loomed over you. Its hollow eyes burned with a hunger you couldn’t comprehend. Its whispers turned into a deafening roar as it lunged.

“NO!” you screamed, bracing for the impact.

But then the mirror behind you shattered, and an arm shot through the jagged shards, yanking you back with a force that knocked the breath out of you.

You tumbled to the ground, landing hard on the other side of the mirror. The air was different here, colder but less oppressive.

“Got you,” San’s voice came, low and fierce. His grip on your wrist was unyielding, and his eyes burned with determination.

“San!” you gasped, tears blurring your vision.

“Stay behind me,” he ordered, his tone sharp and commanding.

The creatures weren’t done. They began slipping through the shattered mirror, their forms reforming with a horrifying fluidity. San pulled you to your feet, his gaze darting around, calculating.

“We’re not safe yet,” he said, his voice tight. “Run!”

He pulled you along as the creatures poured into the new corridor, their shrieks echoing through the maze. You ran as fast as you could, San leading the way, his grip never faltering.

Suddenly, you both turned a corner and saw it—a door at the far end of the maze. Relief surged through you, but your hope was quickly dashed. The door wasn’t ordinary; it was made entirely of thick, reinforced glass.

San stopped beside you, his face set in grim determination. "We’re almost there. Keep moving!" he barked, grabbing your wrist and pulling you along.

The creatures shrieked behind you, their distorted forms growing closer with every second. You both skidded to a halt in front of the glass door, and San quickly examined it.

“It’s locked!” you gasped, panic rising in your throat.

“Not for long,” San muttered.

“Huh?”

Without hesitation, he stepped back, his fists clenching. Then, with a guttural yell, he slammed his fist into the glass. A web of cracks splintered across its surface, but it didn’t shatter.

The creatures were nearly upon you, their whispers turning into a deafening roar. San didn’t stop. He struck the glass again, this time with everything he had, and the door exploded into shards with a thunderous crash.

“Go!” he shouted, grabbing you by the waist.

“Wait—what are you—”

Before you could protest, San lifted you effortlessly and hurled you through the opening. You landed on the other side with a thud, scrambling to your feet just in time to see him climb up the jagged edges of the broken door, the neon lights behind him casting an almost heroic glow around his figure.

San leapt through, landing in a crouch beside you as the creatures clawed at the shattered remains of the glass. He grabbed your hand and pulled you up.

“Run,” he commanded, his voice steady despite the chaos.

You didn’t need to be told twice. Together, you sprinted away from the maze, the sounds of the creatures fading behind you as the two of you finally escaped its horrifying grasp.

Both of you stumbled out of the maze, panting heavily. The moment your feet hit solid ground, the mirrors behind you shimmered and collapsed inward, dissolving into nothingness. The silence that followed was deafening, the only sound being the ragged rhythm of your breathing.

San slammed his fist against the nearest wall, his jaw clenched tight. “Damn it! We failed!” His voice echoed through the empty library.

You flinched at his tone, but you didn’t blame him. After everything you had been through, it was hard to come to terms with failure.

San ran a hand through his hair, his frustration palpable. “All of that, and we still don’t know what I needed to know. We’re wasting time we don’t have!” His eyes darkened, a rare glimpse of despair flashing through them.

You were about to try and console him when something caught your attention—a slight weight in your pocket that wasn’t there before. Your hand slipped inside, and your fingers brushed against the edges of a piece of paper.

“What the…” you murmured, pulling it out. It was old, almost fragile, the edges yellowed as if it had existed for decades. Strange symbols and scrawled writing adorned its surface.

“San,” you called softly. He didn’t respond, too busy pacing angrily.

“San,” you repeated, more firmly this time.

“What?” he snapped, turning to you, his eyes sharp.

You held up the paper. “I found this in my pocket.”

His expression shifted from irritation to confusion. He stepped closer, snatching the paper from your hand and scanning it quickly. His eyes widened as he read, his grip on the paper tightening.

“This… this is it,” he breathed, almost disbelieving.

“What is it?” you asked, peering over his shoulder.

San pointed to a phrase written in bold near the bottom of the page: “The Key to Realms: Chromer.”

“It says the key we’re looking for isn’t a traditional key. It’s a sand clock,” San explained, his voice filled with sudden urgency. “A sand clock called Chromer. And it’s in the principal’s office.”

Your brows furrowed. “A sand clock? Why would something like that be the key to anything?”

“It’s not just any sand clock,” San replied, his tone deadly serious. “The Chromer is a relic that connects dimensions. It’s what I need to go back to my realm. This is the information we were searching for.”

You both stared at the paper, the weight of its significance settling over you.

“But how did it get in my pocket?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

San shook his head, his expression unreadable. “I don’t know. Someone—or something—wanted us to have this. Whatever force controls this place isn’t done with us yet.”

The two of you exchanged a glance, the reality of the situation sinking in. The journey was far from over. If anything, it had just begun.

The hallways stretched endlessly ahead, dim and cold, as if life had been sucked out of the building. The air felt heavier with every step, and the faint echoes of your hurried footsteps reverberated eerily. San walked ahead, his shoulders tense but his movements calculated and sure.

You, on the other hand, couldn’t stop glancing nervously over your shoulder. The memory of those void-like attackers from the maze haunted you, and your gut told you they weren’t done yet.

“Stay close,” San said over his shoulder, his voice low.

You nodded, clutching your jacket tighter as if it could shield you. Suddenly, a shiver ran down your spine—an unnatural chill that made your skin prickle. Before you could react, a guttural sound tore through the silence.

They were back.

Out of the shadows, black void-like figures materialized, their featureless forms surging toward you. But this time, something was off. They weren’t even glancing at San. All their focus was on you.

“San!” you screamed, backing up instinctively.

San turned sharply, his eyes narrowing as he took in the scene. “Why the hell are they only after you?” he muttered, stepping in front of you.

One of the figures lunged, and he swatted it away effortlessly with his arm. “Just stay behind me!”

“I’m trying!” you yelled, dodging another swipe from one of the creatures.

Despite his best efforts, they kept finding ways around him, their movements unnervingly quick and calculated. San could only defend so much, and his frustration was mounting.

“You need to fight back!” he barked, slashing through one of the attackers with a weapon he’d conjured from seemingly nowhere.

“I don’t know how to fight!” you snapped, ducking as another creature swiped at your head. Your heart was pounding so hard it felt like it might burst out of your chest.

“Then run smarter!” San shouted, his voice strained. “Don’t just run blindly—watch their movements!”

Easy for him to say. You scrambled to your feet after nearly tripping over yourself, your breaths coming in short, panicked gasps. The creatures weren’t slowing down. One lunged at you from the side, and you barely managed to dodge, crashing against the wall.

“Damn it!” San growled. He lunged forward, grabbed your arm, and yanked you toward him. “Stay close—closer!”

He practically dragged you down the hallway, his speed making it hard for you to keep up. His movements were fluid, each strike precise as he knocked away the attackers that got too close.

Still, they came.

Another void-like figure lunged directly at you, faster than the others. You couldn’t move in time. But just as its claws were about to reach you, San spun around, shielding you with his body. The creature’s attack hit him squarely in the back.

San didn’t even flinch.

“San!” you gasped.

“I’m fine,” he gritted out, slashing the creature to nothingness. “But you won’t be if you don’t stop being a damn target.”

“I’m not trying to be a target!” you shot back, the fear making your voice crack.

San sighed heavily, glancing at the path ahead. “We’re almost there. You just have to survive a little longer.”

“That’s not very comforting!” you hissed.

He didn’t respond, instead focusing on cutting a path through the swarm of attackers. The principal’s office was just up ahead, its door faintly illuminated like a beacon.

“Run!” he commanded, pushing you forward.

With every ounce of strength you had, you sprinted toward the door. The attackers closed in, but San was right behind you, clearing a path and yelling for you to keep moving.

You reached the door, slamming your hands against its cold surface. It wouldn’t budge.

“It’s locked!” you shouted, panic surging.

“Move!” San barked, his voice sharp. He didn’t hesitate, driving his fist into the glass pane. It shattered instantly, the shards spraying everywhere. Without a second thought, he gripped you around the waist and hoisted you up.

“Go through!” he demanded, lifting you through the broken opening and onto the other side.

You scrambled over, your heart still racing. San quickly followed, vaulting through the broken glass. He landed beside you, his chest heaving.

For a moment, neither of you spoke, the chaos behind you finally falling silent. Then San glanced at you, his expression unreadable.

“You’re alive,” he said simply, his tone more relieved than he let on.

“Barely,” you muttered, collapsing against the wall.

He smirked faintly, brushing glass dust off his clothes. “Good enough.”

Your legs felt like jelly, your lungs burned from the constant running, and every part of you was screaming to stop. The fear, the chaos—it was all too much. You pressed your back against the wall, glaring at San as he dusted himself off like nothing had happened.

“I can’t do this anymore,” you snapped, your voice trembling with exhaustion and frustration. “This is insane, San! I’m not some fighter, I’m just... I’m just a student who got stuck in this nightmare!”

San turned to you, his sharp gaze softening ever so slightly. For a moment, he didn’t say anything, as if weighing his words.

“I didn’t ask for this either,” he finally said, his voice calm but firm. “But we don’t have a choice. You’re my only shot at fixing this mess, and I’m your only shot at surviving it.”

You scoffed, throwing up your hands. “Great pep talk, really. But I’m done, San. I can’t keep running and almost dying every five minutes!”

Instead of arguing, he pulled out his watch. The faint, flickering blue light of the device illuminated his face as he fiddled with it.

“What are you doing now?” you asked, exasperated.

“Calling my family,” he said simply, his tone uncharacteristically soft.

The watch buzzed faintly, then a holographic screen popped up, displaying blurry but familiar faces. You recognized one of them immediately—the leader, Hongjoong, with his sharp eyes and commanding presence.

“San,” Hongjoong’s voice came through, clear and steady. “You’re still alive.”

“Barely,” San muttered, glancing at you. “I’ve got her with me. We made it out of the maze, but things are getting worse. The attackers are targeting her now.”

“Why her?” Seonghwa’s voice chimed in, his tone calm but laced with concern.

“I don’t know,” San admitted, running a hand through his hair. “But it’s making everything ten times harder.”

Another voice cut in—Wooyoung’s. “Maybe she’s got something they want? Or maybe she just smells like fresh prey.”

“Wooyoung, not helpful,” Yunho interjected.

You felt scared. Being in the mercy of these unknown and certainly shady men. He can do whatever he wants to you. It all came down like a mirror shattering. Ironic

“Look,” San continued, ignoring the bickering, “we’re on our way to the principal’s office. We think the key—the Chromer—is there. But it’s getting harder to move without drawing attention.”

“You need to keep her safe, San,” Hongjoong said, his voice firm but an underlying meaning present. “Whatever it takes.”

San’s jaw tightened. “I know that, hyung.”

You sat quietly, watching the exchange. It was clear that these people weren’t just his team—they were his family, and their concern for him was genuine.

“San,” a new voice broke in, deeper and more commanding. It was Jongho. “Do you think she can handle it?”

San glanced at you, his eyes searching your face. “She’ll have to.”

Your heart sank at his words. He wasn’t wrong, but the weight of it felt crushing. You wanted to argue, to tell them all that you weren’t cut out for this. But something about the way San looked at you—determined yet oddly reassuring—made you hold your tongue.

“Stay in contact,” Hongjoong said. “And don’t do anything stupid.”

The hologram flickered and disappeared, leaving you and San in the dim light of the hallway.

He slipped the watch back onto his wrist and turned to you. “I know this is hard,” he said quietly, his voice softer than before. “But we’re almost there. Just a little longer, okay?”

You looked at him, searching his face for any sign of doubt. But all you saw was determination—and maybe, just maybe, a hint of trust.

“Fine,” you muttered, pushing yourself off the wall. “But if I die, I’m haunting you forever.”

San smirked faintly. “Fair deal.”

As San and you finally found the door to the principal's office, you both stopped in front of it. The door was large, dark, and imposing, a heavy weight hanging in the air as you both stared at it.

San’s eyes locked onto you, his face tense. “You need to go in there. The Chromer is in that office, and it’s the only thing that can get me back to my realm. You have to do this.”

You hesitated, feeling the fear creep into your chest. “I... I can’t, San. What if something happens to me in there? I don’t know what I’m doing. I’m not like you. I can’t fight.”

San’s frustration was palpable, his fists clenching as his tone grew more urgent. “We don’t have time for hesitation. You have to go in there and get it. Do you understand?”

You took a step back, heart pounding. “I can’t do it. I’m not strong enough. I’ve never been strong enough.”

Before San could reply, the watch on his wrist buzzed, and Hongjoong’s calm voice came through.

“Hey,” Hongjoong said, his tone reassuring yet firm, “we know you’re scared. But you have to do this. San needs you.”

Next, Seonghwa spoke up, his voice gentle but steady. “You might not think you’re strong, but you are. You’ve already done more than most people could ever imagine. You’ve come this far, haven’t you? That’s strength.”

You felt a sense of warmth from their words, but the fear still held you tight. Then you heard Jongho’s voice, clear and strong, cutting through the fog of doubt in your mind.

“Listen to me,” Jongho said, his voice carrying that same unwavering confidence. “You’re not alone. We’re all right here, cheering you on. I know it’s scary, but I believe in you. We all do.”

A slight shift in San’s demeanor caught your attention as he stared at you. His frustration softened, replaced by a look of understanding.

"Jongho's right," San added, his voice quieter now, tinged with sincerity. “I wouldn’t be asking you if I didn’t believe in you too. You’ve got this.”

The weight of their words, their unwavering belief in you, was enough to start dissolving the fear. You didn’t want to disappoint them—especially not San.

Yeosang’s voice cut in next, surprising in its warmth. “You’re stronger than you think. You can do this. We’re right here with you. One step at a time. Just trust yourself.”

Mingi chimed in with his usual confidence, “And if you need any backup, we’ve got your back. We’re with you every step of the way.”

Wooyoung added his usual teasing tone, “You’re stronger than you give yourself credit for, trust me. Now go show us what you’ve got.”

With each of their voices echoing in your mind, you felt the weight of your fear start to lift. You weren’t alone in this. They were all behind you.

You took a deep breath, summoning the courage you didn’t even know you had. “Okay,” you whispered, your voice steadier than before. “I’ll do it. I’ll go in.”

San’s expression softened, a quiet gratitude in his eyes. “Thank you,” he said, his voice sincere. “You don’t know what this means to me.”

You gave him a small nod, looking back at the door. The fear was still there, but now there was determination too. You weren’t just doing this for yourself—you were doing it for San and his family. And that made all the difference.

You stepped up to the door, your hand shaking slightly as you reached for the cold handle. Before you could second-guess yourself, you turned it, pushing the door open slowly. With one last glance at San, you stepped into the unknown, ready to face whatever waited inside.

San and you stood in front of the principal’s office. It looked imposing, with dark, heavy wooden doors that had a strange energy about them. The air felt thick, as if something was lurking just beyond those doors.

San, his face tense with anticipation, turned to you. “You have to go in. We don’t have time to waste.”

You took a step back, shaking your head. “I can’t... What if something happens to me? What if I get caught?” Your heart raced, fear creeping up your spine. You didn’t want to be the weak link, but the thought of stepping into that office alone was overwhelming.

San’s jaw clenched, frustration flickering in his eyes. His patience, usually so steady, was starting to crack. “We don’t have a choice! You’re the only one who can get in there. You’re the student. I’m not allowed in.”

“I don’t know if I can do this,” you muttered, looking away, unable to meet his gaze.

The tension in the air thickened. San’s hands clenched at his sides, his fingers twitching as if he was on the verge of snapping. But before he could say anything, his watch buzzed to life, and the voice of his captain echoed in the silence.

“San, calm down,” Hongjoong’s voice came through, cool and authoritative. “Let her breathe. You know she’s scared.”

San’s eyes hardened as he spoke through clenched teeth. “But we need this, hyung. We can’t afford to fail now.”

“I know,” Hongjoong responded. “But you can’t push her. You’ve trained with her, you know what she’s capable of. Give her a moment. We can’t force her to go in, but we can help her understand why it’s important.”

San's gaze softened slightly as he looked at you, seeing the fear written all over your face. He let out a slow breath and then spoke, his tone more gentle this time. “Look, I know it’s terrifying. But you’re not alone. We’re all here, and we won’t let anything happen to you. You just have to trust me, and trust yourself.”

You felt the weight of his words, but still, doubt lingered in your mind. “What if it’s too dangerous?”

Hongjoong’s voice came again, more insistent. “It is dangerous, but do you want to know what’s even more dangerous? The alternative. We don’t know how much time we have. You’re the key to all of this, and you can’t let fear stand in the way now.”

San stepped closer, his eyes unwavering. “We’ll get through this together. But you need to go in. Do it for us. For you. And for what’s right.”

You hesitated, but then San’s words sunk in. He was right. The fear that had held you back was still there, but so was the determination. You had come this far. You couldn’t turn back now.

Taking a deep breath, you nodded slowly. “Okay. I’ll do it.”

San’s expression softened with relief, but there was a hint of pride in his eyes. “Thank you.” He stepped back, his eyes fixed on the door. “I’ll be right here. Just get what we need.”

With a final look at him, you reached for the door handle, your fingers trembling slightly as you pushed it open. The darkness inside was almost suffocating, but you stepped in, ready to face whatever came next.

As the door clicked shut behind you, you could hear San’s voice, faint but comforting, echoing through the hallway. “You’ve got this.”

You pushed the door open, the sound of it creaking in the silence. Inside, the room was dimly lit, with rows of old bookshelves lining the walls. A desk stood in the center, cluttered with papers and objects that looked ancient and important. The air felt heavy with a strange energy, the kind that made your skin tingle and your heart race.

Your eyes scanned the room, and that’s when you saw it—the sand clock, sitting on a pedestal in the far corner. The chromer. It glowed faintly, its sands moving impossibly slow inside the glass.

You swallowed hard, trying to steady your breath as you walked towards it. Each step felt like it was pulling you deeper into the unknown. This was it. This was the key. You could feel its power, like it was calling to you, urging you to take it.

You reached the pedestal, hesitating for just a moment. Was this really happening? Was this how you were going to help San? You had no idea how this sand clock worked, but you didn’t have a choice. You picked it up gently, feeling the cool glass under your fingers. The sand inside swirled, almost like it had a life of its own.

Just as you turned to leave, you heard a faint creak of the floor behind you. Your heart skipped a beat, and you spun around, instinctively clutching the chromer tighter. But it was only the wind. There was no one else in the room, nothing to worry about—at least, for now.

You breathed a sigh of relief and made your way back to the door, keeping a sharp eye on the room around you. With one final glance at the sand clock in your hands, you pushed open the door and stepped out.

San was standing there, his back to the wall, waiting. His expression softened when he saw you holding the chromer. Without a word, he walked towards you, his hand outstretched.

“We did it,” you said, holding it out to him.

San nodded, a faint smile tugging at his lips, though his eyes were full of concern. “You’re alright?”

You nodded back, still a little shaken but relieved to be out of there. “I’m fine.”

He reached for the chromer, taking it from your hands. As his fingers brushed against it, he let out a quiet sigh, as if the weight of the moment had finally caught up with him. “This is it,” he said softly. “With this, I can go back.”

You both stood in the hallway, the weight of your mission heavy in the air. It wasn’t over yet, but at least you had what you came for.

San gave you a long look, his eyes filled with gratitude. “I couldn’t have done this without you.”

San’s arms suddenly wrapped around you, lifting you off the ground effortlessly. You gasped, your heart racing as you instinctively tried to push away, but his grip was firm, secure.

“Wait—San!” you stammered, panic rising in your chest. “What are you doing?! Put me down!”

His smile was wide, his eyes shining with pure relief and joy. “We did it,” he said, his voice almost a whisper. “I’m not letting you go yet. You helped me get this, and you’re going to be safe with me.”

You squirmed slightly in his arms, but the more you tried to pull away, the tighter his grip seemed to become. The sensation of being carried—of someone else having complete control over you—was overwhelming, and you couldn’t quite figure out why it made you feel so vulnerable. You had always been independent, had always taken care of yourself. No one had ever carried you before.

“San, I—” You trailed off, trying to calm your racing thoughts. His steady heartbeat echoed against your back, reminding you how close you were to him. “Please, I’m not used to this.”

He slowed his pace slightly, as if sensing your discomfort, but he didn’t stop. “I won’t let anything happen to you, I promise.”

Despite his words, a knot of unease twisted in your stomach. Your chest tightened, and your hands instinctively gripped his jacket, as if trying to steady yourself. You couldn’t explain it—the way he was holding you felt so... foreign. So intimate.

You swallowed, attempting to push the discomfort aside, but the fear still lingered. The feeling of being completely at his mercy, so exposed in his arms, made your heart race for all the wrong reasons.

“San, I’m scared,” you admitted, your voice small.

His steps faltered, and he looked down at you, his expression softening. “Hey, it’s okay,” he said gently. “I won’t hurt you. I’ll get you to safety.”

But the truth was, you weren’t just scared of being in his arms—you were scared of what this might mean. You weren’t sure how to handle the feeling of being cared for, of being protected in such an overwhelming way.

You didn’t know what to say, how to react to all of it, so instead, you stayed quiet, allowing him to carry you. You didn’t want to seem weak, didn’t want to burden him with your confusion.

And yet, despite your unease, a part of you felt comforted by his hold. Part of you felt... safe.

San adjusted his jacket as he stood in the middle of the chromer's glowing circle. The energy buzzed around him, and his mind was calm yet excited. This was the moment he'd been planning for days. He was going to ensure everything was set right — that you would go back to your world, and he would return to his with his friends.

As the chromer activated, the world blurred and spun, the familiar hum of its power resonating in his chest. Then, everything stopped abruptly. He felt solid ground beneath his feet, and as his vision cleared, a grin spread across his face.

He was back. The comforting sight of his realm and his friends standing nearby filled him with relief. "Finally," he muttered, stepping forward. But then, a small movement behind him made him freeze.

He turned his head slowly, and there you were, standing wide-eyed and just as disoriented as him. San’s smile faltered, replaced by a mix of confusion and disbelief. His friends, who had started to approach him with cheers of welcome, suddenly stopped in their tracks. Their gazes darted between him and you, their expressions mirroring the bewilderment in his heart.

“San…” Wooyoung was the first to break the silence, his tone tinged with disbelief. "Who’s… she?"

San opened his mouth, closed it again, then ran a hand through his hair in frustration. This wasn’t supposed to happen. You weren’t supposed to be here. He had been sure the chromer would teleport you back to your world, far away from his chaotic reality. But somehow, you were here, standing in his realm, right next to him.

“I—uh—this wasn’t supposed to happen,” San stammered, glancing at you and then at his friends.

You looked at him, your voice soft but steady despite the strangeness of it all. “San… why am I here?”

Before he could answer, Yunho stepped forward, his tall frame imposing but his tone kind. “Wait, wait, wait. Are you telling me this is the girl you’ve been talking about?” He gave San a knowing look, a sly smirk tugging at his lips.

San groaned inwardly. “Yes, but—listen, this wasn’t the plan. She wasn’t supposed to come here.”

“Well, she’s here now,” Seonghwa chimed in, crossing his arms. His gaze flickered to you, assessing but not unkind. “What are you going to do about it?”

San’s mind raced. He turned to you, his tone softening. “I’m sorry. I don’t know how this happened. I thought the chromer would send you back to your world.”

You blinked, taking a hesitant step closer to him. “So… this is your world? Your realm?”

San nodded slowly, his lips pressing into a thin line. He could see the questions swirling in your eyes, but what caught him off guard was the faint flicker of awe. You weren’t panicking; instead, you were looking around with cautious curiosity.

“Okay, hold up,” Wooyoung interrupted, stepping between the two of you with a playful grin. “This is kind of amazing. She’s here, Sannie. Isn’t that… good?”

San shot him a glare. “That’s not the point.”

“So what are we gonna do now?” Mingi piped up, his voice heavy. He gestured at you dramatically, “we have a child with us”

You look at him with an offended face “I'm not a child. Just because you got an extra 1ft up your butt doesn't mean I'm a child”

San sighed, rubbing his temples. This was a problem. But atleast his friends were enjoying this more than they should, but deep down, a part of him couldn’t deny the strange sense of relief. You were here. With him. It wasn’t what he had planned, but maybe… just maybe, this wasn’t a bad thing.

“I don't know,” San muttered, glancing at you. “You’re here now. We’ll figure this out together.”

“i don't trust any of you, just take me somewhere safe”

San flinched slightly at your blunt tone. His friends exchanged amused glances, but there was a hint of curiosity in their eyes as they sized you up.As you walked, you couldn’t help but feel the weight of their gazes—some curious, others amused—but it was San's quiet presence beside you that gave you a strange sense of reassurance. Maybe, just maybe, you could trust him. For now.

"Safe?" Wooyoung echoed, placing a hand dramatically on his chest. "You wounded me! We are the definition of safe."

You crossed your arms and raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, sure. If safe means being surrounded by a bunch of guys who probably argue over who gets the last slice of pizza."

Wooyoung gasped in mock outrage while Yunho let out a deep chuckle. "She’s not wrong," Yunho admitted, scratching the back of his neck.

"Guys, can we focus?" San snapped, rubbing his temples again. He turned to you, his expression softening despite the frustration evident in his voice. "Look, I understand this is overwhelming. It wasn’t supposed to happen like this. But I promise, no one here is going to hurt you. You’re safe with us."

You glanced around at the group, noting the mix of playful energy and genuine care in their faces. Still, the situation felt too surreal, and trust wasn’t something you handed out easily.

"Fine," you said reluctantly, though your posture remained guarded. "But if anyone tries anything funny, I’ll…" You trailed off, looking down at your empty hands. "I’ll… figure something out," you finished awkwardly.

Seonghwa smirked, his voice calm and teasing. "Noted. No funny business."

Behind you, Mingi whispered loudly to Jongho, "She’s feisty. I like her."

San shot him a glare over his shoulder. "Not helping, Mingi."

Hongjoong and yeosang, who had been quietly observing from the back, finally decided to chime in.

Hongjoong adjusted his captain’s hat and gave a dramatic sigh. “So, let me get this straight,” he said, stepping forward and crossing his arms. “San accidentally brought you here, and now we’re babysitting?”

"Not a child," you snapped again, glaring at him.

Yeosang tilted his head, his calm demeanor in stark contrast to the chaos around him. “She has a point,” he said simply. “But the bigger question is, what are we going to do now? We don’t even know how she fits into this.”

You frowned, feeling like you were being talked about like some kind of puzzle piece. “I’m standing right here, you know. Maybe ask me instead of acting like I’m some sort of problem.”

San sighed, clearly at his wit’s end. “Hongjoong, Yeosang, can we not make this worse? She’s already stressed out enough.”

“Worse?” Hongjoong raised an eyebrow. “You mean worse than accidentally dragging someone into our realm? Yeah, okay, San, sure. Not worse at all.”

Yeosang shrugged, his expression unreadable. “Well, she’s here now. Might as well make the best of it.”

You glanced between them, trying to gauge if they were as unpredictable as the others. "Are these two always this cryptic?" you asked, pointing at Hongjoong and Yeosang.

“Cryptic?” Yeosang repeated, almost amused. “No. I’d say I’m more… realistic.”

“And I’m the strategist,” Hongjoong added, smirking. “Which is why I’m asking the important questions. Like what exactly you plan to do while you’re here.”

You sighed, exasperated. “I didn’t plan anything! I didn’t ask to be here!”

San, sensing the tension rising again, stepped in quickly. “Okay, that’s enough. We can figure everything out once we’ve all calmed down.”

Hongjoong shrugged, falling back into step with the group. “Fair enough. But don’t think I’m letting this slide, San. We’re going to need answers.”

Yeosang gave you a small nod, his calm gaze meeting yours. “You’ll be fine. We’re not as bad as we look.”

You weren’t entirely convinced, but something about Yeosang’s steady demeanor was oddly comforting. Still, as you followed the group deeper into the unknown, you couldn’t shake the feeling that this was only the beginning of something much bigger.

The tent was much larger on the inside than it seemed, a testament to the strange realm you’d been dragged into. The small room San and Wooyoung led you to was simple but cozy—there was a bed with neatly folded blankets, a small wooden table, and a lantern casting a soft glow across the space.

“Here,” San said, gesturing toward the bed. “It’s not much, but you’ll be comfortable.”

Wooyoung grinned, leaning casually against the doorframe. “Don’t get used to the royal treatment, though. We’re only doing this because someone—” he threw a pointed look at San, “—messed up.”

San rolled his eyes, clearly ignoring Wooyoung’s jab. “Get some rest. We’ll figure everything out tomorrow.”

The two of them left, closing the door behind them. You sat on the edge of the bed, sighing as the muffled voices of the group reached you. They were having a meeting about you, their tones ranging from curious to concerned.

It was only then that you noticed something odd about this room. It felt… lived in. A small detail here, a personal touch there. Then it hit you—this was San’s room.

The realization was confirmed when you heard Wooyoung loudly teasing San outside.

“You’re really giving up your room for her? You’re softer than I thought,” Wooyoung said, cackling.

“Shut up,” San replied, sounding exasperated. “I brought her here. It’s my responsibility to make sure she’s okay.”

“You could’ve just given her my room,” Mingi’s voice chimed in, indignant.

“No way,” San shot back. “She’s my problem. I’ll crash with Yeosang.”

“I didn't ask for this, why does my consent not matter?”

Everyone ignored yeosang.

You blinked, surprised by the admission. He was going out of his way to make you comfortable, even at his own expense. Despite everything, a small part of you felt… touched.

Back in the main area, the conversation continued.

“So, what’s the plan?” Hongjoong asked, his voice sharp and commanding.

“We’ll figure it out tomorrow,” San said firmly. “She’s been through enough for one day.”

“You’re taking this pretty seriously,” Yeosang observed, his tone neutral but laced with curiosity.

“Because I’m the one who messed up,” San replied.

You lay back on the bed, staring at the ceiling. It was strange being in this world, surrounded by people who were so different yet oddly familiar. You couldn’t help but wonder how long this would last—and what San’s words really meant.

As the muffled voices outside the room grew louder, it became apparent that San's friends were thoroughly enjoying the situation at his expense.

You soon realised that wooyoung guy would not leave San alone about the fact that he has brought you here.

"San," Wooyoung's teasing tone cut through the chatter, "what’s the deal with you and the girl, huh? She gets your room and your undivided attention. Should we start planning a wedding?”

San groaned audibly, likely rubbing his temples again. "Wooyoung, shut up."

Mingi jumped in with a laugh. "Nah, but seriously, you’re awfully protective, don’t you think? I’ve never seen you this flustered."

“Maybe San has a crush,” Seonghwa chimed in, his usually composed voice dripping with amusement.

“I do not have a crush,” San snapped. "I’m just trying to fix my mistake. That’s it."

Hongjoong chuckled, crossing his arms. "You know, San, your ‘mistake’ is starting to feel less like an accident and more like fate."

Even Yeosang, who rarely joined in on teasing, raised an eyebrow and smirked. “You did seem pretty quick to give up your room for her. Very... gallant of you.”

Jongho grinned, leaning back against the tent wall. "Should we be worried? What if this becomes a thing? Next thing we know, he’s ditching missions to hang out with her."

“Guys,” San groaned, his voice rising in frustration, “I swear, if you don’t stop—”

“San and the mystery girl sitting in a tree—” Wooyoung started singing obnoxiously, only to be interrupted by Seonghwa laughing so hard he had to lean on Mingi for support.

“Alright, enough!” San finally snapped, his face undoubtedly red from a mix of anger and embarrassment. “She’s not a child, she’s not my crush, and she’s not my girlfriend. She’s just—she’s here because of me, okay? I’m taking responsibility!”

His declaration only earned him a chorus of exaggerated "ooohs" and smirks from his friends.

“Whatever you say, Romeo,” Hongjoong said, winking.

From inside the room, you couldn’t help but overhear every word. You rolled your eyes, but a small smile tugged at your lips. These guys might’ve been a handful, but there was something oddly comforting about the way they teased San. And for some reason, knowing he was defending you—even against his friends—made your heart flutter just a little.

The next morning, the sound of a light knock on the door pulled you from sleep. As you groggily opened your eyes, Jongho stood at the entrance, arms crossed, his usual stoic expression softening ever so slightly.

“Get up,” he said, his tone firm but not unkind. “I’m in charge of you today. San’s orders. We’re starting with shooting practice.”

Still half-asleep, you blinked at him. “Shooting?”

Jongho nodded, walking over to a corner where a small handgun rested in a holster. “This world isn’t safe. You need to know how to defend yourself. If you’re going to stick around, you can’t be useless.”

“Gee, thanks for the vote of confidence,” you muttered under your breath, dragging yourself out of bed.

Once outside, Jongho led you to an open field near the camp, where targets had been set up against a cluster of trees. He handed you the gun, explaining the basics of safety and handling in his usual no-nonsense manner.

“Okay,” he said, stepping back. “Let’s see what you’ve got. Aim at the target.”

You took a deep breath, gripping the gun tightly and lining up the shot. To your surprise—and his—you hit the target on your first try.

Jongho raised an eyebrow. “Not bad,” he admitted, a flicker of surprise in his tone. “But your stance is all wrong. You’re gripping it too hard, and your feet are too close together.”

Before you could react, you fired again. This time, the recoil sent you stumbling backward, nearly losing your balance. Jongho caught you by the arm, steadying you with ease.

“Yeah, that’s what I mean,” he said, his expression softening just a little. “You’ve got good aim, but if you don’t fix your posture, you’re going to hurt yourself.”

He stepped closer, adjusting your grip and positioning your arms with surprising patience. His hands were firm but careful as he guided you.

“Feet shoulder-width apart,” he instructed, nudging your leg with his boot. “And don’t lock your elbows. Let the gun’s recoil flow through you, not against you.”

You followed his instructions, firing again. This time, the shot landed perfectly, and you barely felt the recoil.

Jongho nodded approvingly. “Better. Keep practicing like that, and you might actually survive out here.”

A small smile crept onto your lips. “Coming from you, I’ll take that as a compliment.”

He rolled his eyes but didn’t deny it. “Don’t let it go to your head.”

As the morning went on, the two of you continued practicing. While Jongho’s usual stoicism remained, you couldn’t help but notice the faint glimmer of pride in his eyes every time you improved. Despite his tough exterior, there was something reassuring about his presence, and for the first time, you felt like you could truly hold your own in this strange, dangerous world.

Later that day, as the group gathered around their makeshift campfire, Jongho casually brought up the morning’s events.

“She’s good at aiming,” he said simply, crossing his arms as he leaned back against a log.

Yunho immediately seized the opportunity, his face lighting up with a mischievous grin. “Oh, I bet she is. She already pierced San’s heart.”

The group erupted into laughter, a mix of playful jabs and exaggerated gasps.

“Classic Yunho,” Mingi chuckled, nudging San with his elbow. “You gonna deny it?”

To everyone’s surprise, San didn’t snap back or brush it off like he usually did. Instead, he glanced down at the fire, a faint blush creeping onto his cheeks.

“I—” he started, but then shook his head, letting out a small, almost shy laugh. “I’m not even going to argue with you guys.”

The laughter paused for a moment as everyone processed what he’d just said.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Wooyoung leaned forward, his eyes wide. “Did San just admit to something? Did I hear that right?”

“Mark this day,” Hongjoong said dramatically, pretending to jot something down. “The day San didn’t deny his feelings.”

Yeosang smirked, his usual quiet demeanor replaced by a rare glint of amusement. “Looks like someone’s getting soft.”

San groaned, burying his face in his hands. “You’re all insufferable.”

“But you love us,” Seonghwa teased with a knowing smile, earning more laughter from the group.

Jongho, watching the chaos unfold, couldn’t help but smirk. “All I said was she’s good at aiming. You guys took it and ran.”

“Yeah, but you have to admit,” Yunho said, still grinning, “jongho said she hit the most important target without even trying.”

San rolled his eyes but couldn’t help the small smile tugging at his lips. As much as his friends teased him, there was no denying the truth they’d managed to uncover so easily.

As you sat on the edge of the camp, your eyes drifted to where Wooyoung, San, and Yeosang were huddled together. The way they bantered and laughed, their easy camaraderie so natural, made your chest ache in a way you hadn’t expected.

They were teasing each other relentlessly, Wooyoung doubling over in laughter while Yeosang calmly delivered a comeback that made San groan dramatically.

You sighed, pulling your knees up to your chest. You couldn’t help but feel a pang of jealousy. Not because you didn’t like them being close, but because you wished you had something like that—best friends who knew you so well, who could make you laugh even in the most stressful situations, who felt like home.

The loneliness you’d carried for so long suddenly felt heavier. You tried to push it away, but the thought lingered. What would it feel like to be part of something like that?

Wooyoung caught your gaze first, his playful smile faltering when he noticed your expression. Nudging San with his elbow, he nodded in your direction.

San followed his glance, his brows furrowing when he saw you. Without hesitation, he stood up and motioned for Yeosang and Wooyoung to follow him.

“Hey,” San called out as they approached. “What are you doing all the way over here?”

You shrugged, forcing a smile. “Just sitting.”

Wooyoung plopped down next to you, resting his chin in his hand. “You looked like you were deep in thought. Care to share with the class?”

Yeosang sat on your other side, his calm presence immediately grounding. “Something bothering you?” he asked softly.

You hesitated, not wanting to admit what you were feeling. “It’s nothing. Just… thinking about stuff.”

The conversation earlier left you feeling a little lighter, but not entirely. As the evening rolled in and everyone busied themselves with their tasks, you retreated to the small room San had given up for you. Sitting on the bed, you stared at the wall, lost in thought.

A soft knock on the door broke the silence. “It’s me,” San’s voice came through. “Can I come in?”

You hesitated, then called out, “Yeah, sure.”

The door creaked open, and San stepped inside, closing it gently behind him. He leaned against the wall, arms crossed, his expression unreadable. “You okay?”

You nodded quickly. “I’m fine.”

San raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. “You didn’t seem fine earlier. You’ve been quiet ever since. What’s going on?”

You looked away, gripping the edge of the bed. “It’s nothing.”

“Don’t pull that with me,” he said, his tone soft but firm. “You can talk to me. I won’t judge you.”

Something about his sincerity broke through the wall you were trying so hard to keep up. With a sigh, you finally admitted, “I felt jealous earlier. Watching you and your friends… I don’t have anything like that. I never did.”

San’s brows furrowed as he moved closer, sitting down across from you. “What do you mean?”

You swallowed hard, the words catching in your throat. “I don’t have those kinds of bonds. Not with my family, and definitely not with friends. I’ve always been… on my own. Watching you all laugh and support each other just made me realize what I’m missing.”

The room went silent for a moment. San’s gaze softened, his usual playful demeanor replaced by something more serious. “You’ve been carrying that around all this time?”

You shrugged, trying to brush it off. “It’s not a big deal. I’ve managed this far.”

San shook his head. “No, it is a big deal. You shouldn’t have to feel that way.”

You looked down, your voice barely above a whisper. “It’s just how it is. I’ve learned to deal with it.”

San reached out, gently placing a hand over yours. “You don’t have to deal with it alone anymore. You have us now. You have me now.”

His words made your chest tighten, but this time, it wasn’t out of sadness. It was the comfort you hadn’t realized you needed.

“You really mean that?” you asked, your voice trembling slightly.

San smiled, a warmth in his eyes that made you feel a little less alone. “I do. We’re here for you. And I’m here for you, no matter what.”

San's words lingered in the air, heavy with sincerity, but you couldn’t bring yourself to fully accept them. You’d heard promises like that before—words meant to comfort, to soothe—but they rarely held up. People always said they’d be there, and yet, when it mattered most, they disappeared.

You offered him a faint smile, hoping it was enough to convince him you were okay. “Thanks, San. I appreciate it.”

But deep down, the wall you’d built around yourself refused to budge. You couldn’t afford to let it down, not when experience had taught you that trust came with consequences.

San tilted his head, studying you for a moment. “You don’t believe me, do you?”

Your breath hitched, but you quickly shook your head. “It’s not that. I just… I’m not used to this. It’ll take time.”

He frowned, leaning forward slightly. “I get it. I can’t change what’s happened to you before. But I want you to know I’m not like that. None of us are. When we say you’re part of this now, we mean it.”

You wanted to believe him, wanted to let those words sink in, but the scars of broken trust ran too deep. Instead, you nodded, giving him another polite, distant response. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

San’s shoulders slumped slightly, like he knew he hadn’t quite reached you. But he didn’t push further. Instead, he stood, looking at you with a quiet determination. “Alright. Take your time. I’ll just have to prove it to you.”

You nod your head hesitantly. Doubts still circling your mind.

“You keep saying that, but I know you’re not gonna. You don’t have to tell me everything, but… I wish you would.”

For a long moment, the room was silent. Finally, you spoke, your voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t know how to do this, San. Trust people. Believe that they’ll stay. I’ve been let down too many times.”

San’s gaze softened, and he leaned forward slightly. “I get it. I do. But… not everyone is going to hurt you. Not me.”

You laughed bitterly, shaking your head. “How can you say that? You don’t know what the future holds. People change, San. They leave.”

“Maybe,” he admitted, his tone steady. “But I’m here now, and I’m not planning to go anywhere. I mean it.”

You looked at him, searching his face for any sign of insincerity. There was none. Still, you shook your head, your walls refusing to come down. “You don’t understand, San. I’ve heard those words before.”

He stayed quiet for a moment, then stood and extended a hand toward you. “Come with me.”

You blinked at him. “What?”

“Just… trust me. For tonight,” he said, a small, almost shy smile tugging at his lips.

Hesitant, you took his hand. He led you out of the room and through the quiet camp, eventually stopping in a small clearing lit by the moon. The rest of the group was nowhere in sight, leaving the two of you surrounded by stillness.

“I wanted to show you something,” San said, letting go of your hand and stepping back. He reached into his pocket, pulling out a small, worn object—a charm.

You tilted your head. “What’s that?”

“It’s something my mom gave me before I left home,” he explained, his voice carrying a mix of nostalgia and warmth. “She told me to hold onto it whenever I felt lost or unsure. And I wanted you to have it.”

Your eyes widened. “San, I can’t—”

“You can,” he interrupted gently, stepping closer. “You’re not alone anymore. And even if you don’t believe me now, I’ll keep proving it until you do.”

The sincerity in his voice, the vulnerability in his eyes—it broke something in you. Tears welled up despite your efforts to hold them back.

“Why are you doing this?” you asked, your voice trembling.

“Because you matter to me,” he said simply. “More than you know.”

The walls you’d built so carefully began to crack. Slowly, you nodded, accepting the charm. “Okay,” you whispered. “I’ll try. For you.”

San smiled, his relief palpable. “That’s all I ask.”

As the night stretched on, the two of you stayed there, talking quietly under the stars. And for the first time in a long time, you felt a spark of hope—a belief that maybe, just maybe, you’d finally found someone who wouldn’t leave.

In the weeks that followed, something began to shift. San kept his promise, showing up in ways you hadn’t expected. Whether it was a warm cup of tea when you couldn’t sleep, a steadying hand during training, or simply sitting beside you in silence when you needed it most, he proved his words with actions.

The group noticed, of course. Wooyoung teased San relentlessly, while Yunho and Mingi exchanged knowing looks. Even Yeosang, usually reserved, smiled faintly when he caught you two sharing quiet moments.

Slowly but surely, you found yourself opening up—not just to San, but to the rest of the group. Hongjoong taught you about navigation, Jongho helped you refine your aim, and Seonghwa shared stories of his childhood that made you laugh until your sides hurt. For the first time in your life, you felt like you belonged.

One evening, after a long day of training, you sat with San on a hill overlooking the camp. The sky was painted in hues of orange and pink, the sun dipping low on the horizon.

“You’ve changed,” San said softly, his gaze fixed on you.

You raised an eyebrow, a small smile tugging at your lips. “Oh? How so?”

“You’re smiling more,” he said, his own lips curving into a grin. “And I think you’re starting to trust us.”

You looked out at the horizon, the warmth of his words settling in your chest. “Maybe I am,” you admitted. “It’s… nice, having people to rely on.”

San chuckled, leaning back on his hands. “Well, you’ve got us now. And we’re not going anywhere.”

You turned to him, your heart swelling with something you hadn’t felt in a long time: gratitude. “Thank you, San. For everything.”

He met your gaze, his eyes soft and sincere. “You don’t have to thank me. I’m just glad you’re here.”

As the sun set and the first stars began to appear, you realized something profound. This wasn’t just a group of people who had taken you in. They were your family now—a family you’d fought to find, and one you knew would stand by you no matter what.

And as for San? Well, maybe—just maybe—he was your beginning, the start of a life you never thought you’d have.

For the first time in a long time, you weren’t looking back at what you’d lost. Instead, you were looking forward—to a future filled with hope, laughter, and the people who made your heart feel whole.

[inevitably-johnlocked]

Hii, I was wondering if you had any recs of a writer/author John au. I've found some of author Sherlock, but none of John except his blogging that he does normally. if you don't do recs anymore or don't feel like answering feel free to ignore and have a lovely day! <3

Hi Nonny!

Oh I'm still doing weekly lists, I just don't get many asks for them anymore so I feel like y'all don't like them anymore LOL. BUT!! Your ask is a fantastic excuse to use your ask as a list prompt since I don't have one ready for today!! I actually find the opposite, that there seem to be more "writer John" fics more than the other way around, especially as I've been going through my lists.

That said, I've done a tag search for "writer" and "author" on my offline lists, and here's what I got! Hope you enjoy and as usual, if anyone has any fics that they would like to suggest, please add them below!!

WRITER / AUTHOR JOHN

BOOKMARKS

A Gossamer Dream by CarmillaCarmine (E, 15,985 w., 4 Ch. || Writer/Teacher AU || First Meetings, Friends to Lovers, Writer John / Teacher Sherlock, Fluff, London, Holding Hands, Online Friendship / Romance, Phone Sex, Anal Sex, Happy Ending, Alternating POV, Scottish John, Online Relationship, Internalized Homophobia, Hand Holding, Forehead Touching, First Kiss/Time, Texting/Sexting, Rimming, Toplock, Sherlock Speaks French) – Sherlock had never realised one could care so much about someone they'd never met in person. Now he is about to meet the friend with whom he's been chatting online for months and his anticipation is reaching a crescendo. Part 19 of Johnlock Smut (with Feels)

Being John Watson-ish by elwinglyre (E, 69,902 w., 17 Ch. || Bodysnatcher AU || Author John, Cranky Sherlock, Angst, Sexual Tension, First Kiss / Time, Falling in Love, BAMF John, Past Soldier John, Feelings, Inside Someone’s Brain, Shy Sherlock, Sherlock Loves John, POV Sherlock, Switchlock, Slow Burn, Internal Dialogue, Mental Turmoil) – When consulting detective Sherlock Holmes steps on one toe too many at a crime scene, he's consigned to a desk job in an archaic office on the seventh-and-a-half floor of the New Scotland Yard. It’s in this bleak office that Sherlock discovers a portal into the mind of renowned author John Watson. Grander than his mind palace, this new wonderland affords Sherlock new vistas of experimentation. To learn more about the mystery behind the portal, Sherlock seeks out and befriends Watson. But then it all goes wrong when others find the secret portal door—including the man whose brain he visits.

MARKED FOR LATER

Exposition - An Ex Files Special by 7PercentSolution (T, 7,643 w., 12 Ch. || POV Second Person, Angst, Bereavement, Poetry / Haiku, Hallucinations, Writing as Therapy) – John's a writer. However much Sherlock derided the blog, people read what he writes. After the fall, John's writing takes a surprisingly different approach. This sets the context for a series of chapters, each one including a different poem by John. Part 4 of Ex Files

keywords: Gay, Loving, Boyfriends by lookupkate (E, 17,771 w., 17 Ch. || Doctor John AU || Alternate First Meeting, Hospitals, John Writes Smut, Sherlock Reads Smut, Fanfiction) – John starts writing gay romance while holed up in hospital. Sherlock reads the first fic on accident, and it sticks with him for days. He can't help but read more from the unknown writer. Little does he know, the writer isn't exactly unknown to him. The writer happens to be the A&E Doctor he's feuding with. Christ, can you imagine what he'll think once he finds out? 

Dead Letter Office by a_different_equation (M, 20,364 w., 15 Ch. || ‘Bartleby’ Fusion / Office Setting AU || Different First Meeting, Epistolary, John's Blog, Angst with a Happy Ending, Pre-Canon, John Watson is Sherlock's Boss, PTSD John, Military Backstory, Writer John, Drug Use, Texting) – John Watson comes home from the war, gets a new job and meets Sherlock Holmes through Mike Stamford. Same tale since 1891, except this time it’s 2008, John is Sherlock’s boss, and they work together at the Dead Letter Office in London. It's not a love story, until it finally is.

The Reawakening of John Watson by  221b_careful_what_you_wish_for (E, 20,463 w., 14 Ch. || Historical 1800s American/Victorian AU || Artist Sherlock, Writer John, Angst with Happy Ending, Bisexual John, Period Typical Homophobia, Sensuality, Experienced Sherlock, Pining, Past Drug Use, Slow Burn, Love Confessions, Flirty Sherlock, Frottage, Outdoor Sex, Trust Issues, Minor Character Death, Sexual Tension, Colorado / London, Rimming, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs,  POV John) – Trying to escape his troubled past in England, John Watson has started a new life in the American West. When he meets the handsome artist Sherlock Holmes, a smoldering attraction is sparked, complicating his quiet, carefully guarded existence. Maybe taking a risk with Sherlock is exactly what John needs to feel alive again...

The Key to Castles in the Air by LadyKailitha (T, 34,365 w., 21 Ch. || Author AU || Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Bratty Sherlock, Damaged Sherlock, Romance, Shop Clerk/Writer John) – John is a clerk (and writing a book on the side) at a bookshop run by Mrs Hudson. The one downside to this perfect job is Sherlock Darling, Mrs Hudson's friend who loves to rile John up. About everything. All that changes when they are forced to spend a week together in the country when bad weather hits. Sherlock's got secrets. What will John do once he finds them out?

There I Saw You, Night by esplanade (T, 54,073 w., 12 Ch. || Writer AU || Poet Sherlock, Writer John, True Love, Sherlock's A Mess, Conversations, John's Family) – "It wasn't as if he had stopped writing entirely. Quite the opposite, in fact. It was just that most of what he wrote ended up thrown into the fireplace at home. What was the sense in keeping something that was sub-par?"

This Is Your Song by agirlsname (E, 79,990 w., 19 Ch. || Moulin Rouge Fusion || Prostitute Sherlock, Poet John, Acting, Singing, Dancing, Writing, Poetry, Musical, Song Fic, Heavy Angst, Unreliable Narrator, Sherlock is French, Love at First Sight, UST, First Kiss/Time, Frottage, Coming in Pants, Anal Sex, Switchlock, Clothed Sex, Crossdressing, Secret Relationship, Forbidden Love, Jealousy, Terminal Illnesses, Grief/Mourning, Breakup/Makeup Sex, Past Drug Use, Attempted Rape, Canon-Typical Violence)– When John Watson is invalided home from the army in 1895, he moves to Paris to rediscover his writing and find a new meaning in life. His old friend Stamford invites him into a group of artist friends, and suddenly John finds himself auditioning to write a show for the famous brothel across the street. There, he meets the most beautiful man he’s ever seen - Sherlock, the star of the Moulin Rouge. But Sherlock is already promised to the investor of the show, the rich Duke Moriarty.

A Case of Identity – The Musical by shamelessmash (E, 83,147 w., 15 Ch. || 1950′s Hollywood AU || Musical, Case Fic, Undercover as an Actor, Dancing, Happy Ending, Kidnapping, Drugs, Fluff and Angst, Humour, Writer/Director John, Slow Burn / Romance) – A mysterious death on set causes chaos in Stamford productions latest movie. With the premiere date left unchanged, they must find a new lead actor and reshoot an entire movie in two months. Sherlock Holmes goes undercover as a lead actor in a Musical: a juggling act to solve a murder while singing, dancing and charming his way through 1950s Hollywood. The last thing he expected was to fall in love with the screenwriter along the way. Or as I like to call it: the case where Sherlock finally gets to dance.

WORKS IN PROGRESS

Children of the Revolution by BadNewsForBrainWork (E, 7,655+ w., 4/? Ch. || WiP || Moulin Rouge AU || Prostitution, BDSM, Multiple Pairings) –  John is an English writer travelling to the small village of Montmartre in Paris, France is hopes of taking part in the Bohemian Revolution. As soon as he arrives, he gets swept up by the revolutionaries and taken to the Moulin Rouge where he meets Sherlock Holmes. He quickly finds himself caught in a dangerous love triangle that could risk his entire career and maybe even his life.

Wood and Wicker by HardlyFair (M, 14,114+ w., 3/8 Ch. || WW2 Historical AU / Hot Fuzz AU || BAMF John, Case Fic, Secret Societies, Secrets, Romance, Humour, Action, Writer John, Murder Mystery) – 1946. Sandford, England. Following the second World War, Sherlock Holmes accepts an unwanted case far in the English countryside to investigate a string of grisly deaths. Problems arise when it becomes clear that no one thinks anyone has been murdered at all, that nothing outside a series of unfortunate accidents has transpired, and that nothing untoward is afoot in Sandford -- no one, save for a small-time columnist from the local newspaper.

Christmas in Honeycutt by helloliriels (T, 27,950+ w., 14/23 Ch. || WIP || Christmas in Connecticut AU / WWII AU || Kidnapping, Spies / Secret Agents, Codes & Ciphers, Past Relationships, Developing Relationship, Fake Marriage, Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending) – John's publisher asks if his family could entertain a war hero at their idyllic estate in Somerset for Christmas. Only ... John doesn't have a wife ... or a daughter. Or an estate. He has a bedsit. In London. And some wounds of his own to recover from ... but he can't tell his publisher that or he'll get fired … What's a writer to do? Cracking Codes. Super Spies. Sherlock in Disguise. A wild Christmas romance set in the countryside! Just what the doctor ordered! Part 6 of the Liriels Chaptered Fics series

Novel by lifeonmars (M, 50,264+ w., 10/? Ch. || WiP || Author AU || Fairy Tales / Red Riding Hood Elements, Fantasy, Writer’s Block, Falling in Love, Peter Pan References, Slow Burn, Romance, Writer John, Editor Sherlock) – John Watson has writer's block. Sherlock Holmes is the world's best consulting editor. Whether John can write a book is another story entirely.

How Novel Series by StarlightAndFireflies (T, 66,472+ w. across 11 Stories || Series WiP || Writer John / Unilock AU || Book Signing, Flirting, Dating, Shy  Sherlock, Romance, Getting to Know Each Other) – AU in which John is an author, and Sherlock is a fan who comes to his book signing.

[guy-writes]

"Die Zeit mit dir war schön"

CBF! König x Reader

. . .

To begin König will have a name, Reader has a dad (adopted), and considering I'm not from Austria there will be inaccuracies with language and schooling. This is where the warnings will typically go but since there isn't any for the chapter thought I just say these few points.

Hope you enjoy!

Age: 12

Memory One

“New area, new kid”

While you and your dad were eating dinner, you noticed he was being uncharacteristically quiet. Normally he would be asking you about your day and then he would recount his, and often over exaggerating to make it more entertaining. But at this moment he was shoving more macaroni and cheese down his mouth. He seemed deep in thought and it was starting to make you uneasy. Gathering some courage you finally spoke up.

“So… Is there something on your mind?-”

“-Kiddo, there’s something I need to discuss with you,” you both ended up speaking at the same time. 

“About what?” You answered, frowning as you tried to decipher if this was going to be a good or bad thing. Your dad took a sip of his water before speaking up again. He looked into your eyes when he spoke, being as serious as possible.

“My job has decided that my teaching and research is needed elsewhere… It’s a better position but it’s really far from where we live,” he finally revealed. Your eyes widened at this dilemma, that was a big life changing event not just for him but for you as well. Staring at your food, you gathered your thoughts on the matter. You started picking at your food, your thoughts overcrowding your mind.

You didn’t want to move, to start over in some foreign country. But what happens if you voice this out loud and your dad decides to leave without you? He might leave you with some family member and probably forget about you… But you also knew this was probably really important to your dad. Still, you couldn’t help the words that bubbled into your mouth and flew out.

“But Dad, I don't want to move! Aren't we perfectly fine staying here?” 

You gripped your fork harder into your hand and looked away from him. Your 12-year-old brain thought it was the best argument. Your dad just looked at your pouty face, frowning slightly. His shoulders slumped as he let out a tired sigh. 

“It’s not my choice kiddo, they're relocating me whether I like it or not- and I can’t just leave this job… But hey, look at this way, we’ll be together every step of the way, and think of all the new friends you’ll make,” He gave you an encouraging smile, remaining positive, for your sake. He wasn't particularly happy about this move either but this was an opportunity he couldn't pass up. He could live with you being mad at him for a short while, knowing this was extremely hard considering you didn’t have a choice. 

…

That's how you found yourself on the first day of summer break, miles away from where you grew up. He mentioned on a call with his friend that the ‘paperwork ran smoothly’ and moving wasn't as much of a nightmare as he thought it was. Your dad was driving in unknown territory… though the buildings were nice to look at. You weren’t scanning your surroundings in wonder though, you kept your eyes glued to the card your classmates gave you on the last day… along with a small book your teacher got as a housewarming present. You frowned and sunk lower into your seat, watching the rooftops of buildings pass by. You could see your dad peek at you through the rearview mirror.

“You doing okay back there?” He asked.

“...No… I want to go back,” you lamented. 

“I know… here, why don't we play your favourite song?” he beamed at you, fiddling with the radio before you heard your favourite song come out of the speakers. You had to admit it was making you feel better. You grumpily swayed your head to the music and your dad chuckled. It was a while before you started seeing the tops of houses, it looks like he finally found the neighbourhood. You sat up more, a part of you was really curious what kind of house your dad’s job hooked him up with. He parked the car in front of a yellow two story house.

“This looks like the place…” Your dad got a piece of paper from the glove compartment along with the house key. He stared at the paper for a while, making sure the addresses matched. He let out a happy hum when he confirmed this was the house. You placed your book and card down on the seat next to you before exiting the car. It honestly looked like something from a fairytale, vines decorated the front. There was also a small balcony with a window above it… that seemed to be the entrance to it. The windows had those shutters on the outside and the door had a curve on the top so it wasn’t fully square. Your dad came up beside you and whistled, putting his hands on his hips in the weird pose he did when admiring something.

Alright, maybe you were impressed. The house and the surrounding area looked really nice, nicer than your old house back home. Your resolve to hate this place was breaking, especially when your dad said you could take the room that had the balcony. He gave you a warm pat on the back before walking up the path, fishing out the keys and unlocking the door. You ran over to see what the inside looked like, you could immediately see the stairs to the second floor from the doorway, and a hallway leading to the kitchen. The living room was on the left side, in front of the stairs while there was an extra room on the right. It all seemed to circle back to the main hallway.

Taking a peek up the stairs you saw the main landing had four doors all leading to bedrooms and a bathroom. The house was in pretty good condition, it was just insanely dusty and grimy but nothing like a good wash wouldn’t fix… is what your dad would say. 

“Come on kiddo, the moving truck is here!”

… 

It was a long week of unpacking, cleaning, and finding the nearest store for supplies. The majority of the unpacking was easy- since your dad just ended up doing all of it. You got to decorate your new room which was fun, your dad let you have full control of what you wanted. 

Currently, you were outside, your dad urged you to explore the neighbourhood just as long as you didn’t go to the next street. You look over to your left, spotting a trail between your house and your neighbour’s blue one. The cul-de-sac was surrounded by woods, besides the part that led to the other block and main street. You decided to follow the little gravel path that was made. It was cloudy today so most people were inside. That was fine with you, at least you wouldn’t be introducing yourself today.

You stopped in your tracks when you spotted something colourful off the trail you were on. Growing a bit curious you went to investigate, it wasn’t hard to see that it was a playground. You were caught off guard by the boy playing by himself though. He was around your height, maybe a bit taller, chubby, had messy brown hair and an interesting mix of grey and blue eyes. He was moving around the play structure rapidly, waving a large stick around like it was a sword. He shouted around giving commands to his ‘soldiers’ and claiming they needed to save the princess from the clutches of the evil wizard. Who the evil wizard was… you didn’t know, but it looked like fun. You stepped closer to the playground and that’s when he finally noticed you. He tensed, turning to face you, he looked like a deer in the headlights. 

“Hi, sorry- I didn’t mean to scare you,” You spoke, trying to make yourself seem less threatening. It didn’t seem to work though, he looked like he was going to bolt at any moment. You could see him biting the inside of his cheek, it was awkward but you waited for him to say something. 

What felt like minutes passed before he finally spoke. 

“It’s… fine I was just about to… leave…” He spoke, he sounded anxious. You frowned, that was not what you were expecting. You should be the one leaving, not him, but he seemed hellbent on exiting this situation. You watched as he started making his way towards the gravel path and walking towards the neighbourhood you resided in. Did he live near you?

“Wait!” You called out to him. 

He continued walking and picked up speed when you called out for him. You didn’t follow him since you didn’t want to spook him more. You watched him disappear down the path, you decided to wait a few minutes before heading home yourself.

… 

Knock!

Knock! 

Knock!

“This is the third visitor we’ve gotten today…” Dad mumbled as he got up from the couch, stretching his limbs out a bit. He was repeating the same motions today, sitting, getting up, then sitting for maybe an hour before another neighbour came over. You’ve gotten two casseroles already and it looks like you’ll be adding a third. You walked with your dad to the door, he opened it to see a whole family of three on your little porch. You immediately noticed that the husband looked like he didn’t want to be here. The wife was holding a container full of what looked like dessert. Their kid were standing behind them, and from the looks of it they were a boy.. 

“Hallo! I hope we aren’t interrupting anything, but we thought it was finally time to introduce ourselves. I'm Lina Andreas and this is my husband Rudolph and behind us is our son… get up here,” she motioned her kid towards the front. You instantly recognized him, he was the boy from the park whom you scared off three days ago. His eyes widened slightly when he spotted you and he shifted on his feet.

“This is Alexander,” Lina introduced.

“It’s nice to meet you all, I'm Andrew Wright,” Your dad shook hands with the parents before introducing you. 

“My daughter just recently turned 12, she’ll be going to the nearby school,” Dad said. Lina perked up at that.

“That’s wonderful! Alexander here recently turned 12 and goes to that school, maybe they could walk together?” Lina offered. Alexander seemed to deflate at that, pouting more since his mom didn’t even ask for his opinion. 

“But anyway, before I forget, I brought you an apple strudel! I hope you like them,” she handed off the dessert to your dad who took it with a quick ‘thank you.’ He placed it on the small table that was near the door. 

“Did we catch the missus at the wrong time?” Linda asked, you looked up at your dad and he shook his head.

“No missus here, just me and my daughter,” your dad replied.

“Oh, is she…?” Linda trailed off

“Nope, never had a wife to begin with if you really need to know,” your dad shrugged. He got that question a lot, some people were shocked to hear that he wanted to raise a kid all on his own without a woman's help. You heard at one point he was married but they divorced long before you were in the picture. You could hear Rudolph scoff under his breath, clearly in disapproval but keeping his opinions to himself. You dad didn’t pay him any attention, keeping the conversation going so it didn’t grow awkward. 

It was mostly Linda and your dad talking, the rest of them seemed to just idly stand there. It reminded you of the times your dad ran into someone he knew at the store. They stand there, talking for what felt like hours. While you just stood there and hoped the conversation ended soon. After what felt like an eternity, they finally wrap up their conversation. All the family members say their goodbyes. Your dad shut the door, sighing tiredly before looking over at you.

“I thought that conversation was never going to end…” He mumbled.

“It’s not like you were helping,” you mumbled, taking the apple strudel from the table and resuming your movie.

Memory Two

Masterlist

Dividers by @//cafekitsune

Reblogs & comments by @//reveriesources

[justplainwhump]

Nobody is Coming

Bradley isn't picked up from school.

Both canon in the later arcs of Pet Safety and Angel, set shortly after Pirate Lady.

Content / warnings: Recovery, loss, the feeling of being left behind, implied parental neglect. An unlikely pair of hurt people maybe about to grow together. Implication of BBU setting.

Bradley was perched on the little stone wall by the school's music wing, his guitar case next to him. Class was over, but he wasn't going to be picked up.

"Your pet is never late," Mr Oliver, the music teacher, commented after a long stare at his watch.

Wrong on so many levels, Bradley thought. But he didn't say it. He didn't ask him to call Rosa by her name instead of her status, either. He had done so, hundreds of times. Stood up for her, or at least tried to. And she hadn't even turned around when she left him.

"She's not coming," Bradley said.

Mr Oliver frowned. "Well. Who is?"

Bradley shrugged. "Nobody."

"I'm going to call your Da-" He stopped with a sudden flush of redness burning on his cheeks. Bradley gritted his teeth. He'd internally dared him to say it out loud.

Dad. Dead. Mom. Refusing to answer her phone. Probably drunk on mimosas in some day spa. Sister. Ran off to California first chance she got. Rosa. Rosa. Left with a stranger without turning around.

"Nobody." Bradley repeated stoically.

"Well, I'm going to call someone to pick you up."

Bradley shrugged again. The police, he wondered. Social services?

"Isn't your uncle in town, too?"

Tim.

Bradley shot his teacher a long look. Was Mr Oliver the only one in town who hadn't excessively read every single detail about the drama that had left both his father and uncle killed?

"Dead," he said shortly.

"Aunt?"

I don't have an aunt, he wanted to say. But he did, he realized. Angelina. The woman his mother blamed for literally everything that had happened in the past horrible months. The one who 'destroyed the family'.

She hadn't, Bradley thought. Their family had been rotten within. Angelina had just brought all the rot to the surface.

His mother would hate it.

"Um." Bradley said. "Yeah. I guess."

He didn't have her mobile number, but he found a landline in Uncle Tim's contact.

Mr Oliver turned away as he called, but someone did seem to answer, because he started to quickly speak into the phone.

"She's coming," he said to Bradley, after he hung up. And then, with a sudden gravity to his voice, as if he'd just now realized that Bradley had indeed had some pretty not great weeks, he added "I'll wait here with you."

-

Twenty minutes late, Angelina Harris turned around the corner in Uncle Tim's sleek black Mercedes. When she got out, the wind played with her long blond hair, billowed into the light blue coat and exposed her white silk blouse and tight blue jeans.

Next to him, Mr Oliver sucked in some air. Bradley grimaced. Yeah. Some men did that, when they saw her.

"Ms Harris," he said and strode forward to clasp her hand between both his. "So sorry for your loss."

Angelina tilted her head politely, her mouth curved into a tiny, pained smile.

She was better at the act than himself, Bradley figured. Whenever someone offered him condolences he couldn't do anything else but shrug it off rudely.

He jumped from the wall and pushed himself and his guitar through them, breaking off his teacher's grasp of her hand.

"Thank you for waiting with me, Sir," he said. "My aunt has got it from here. Bye."

Almost embarrassed, Mr Oliver stepped back, as Bradley stowed his guitar on the back seat and slid onto the passenger seat.

Angelina got in at the same time, pulled the door shut, but didn't turn on the ignition.

Instead she turned over to face him, hands in her lap, one eyebrow raised.

"Do I?" She asked.

"What?"

"Have got it from here? It sure doesn't feel like it." She frowned. "Why me, Bradley?"

He didn't look her in the eyes. He tried to count the freckles on her cheeks instead. "Rosa left," he mumbled. "Everyone left."

"Why me? Your mother hates me. She-" Angelina paused, suddenly pale under her freckles. "Wait. What happened to Rosa? Did your mother do something? Did she send her -"

Bradley shook his head. "Mum doesn't even know yet, I think." He stared down at his fingers. "Rosa just walked out."

"Pets don't -"

"Call her Rosa," he snapped. "She's a person, the only person who ever -" Cared about me, he thinks. Loved me. But she didn't. He had seen what love looked like on Rosa's face, when the stranger rang at their door. She'd never loved him.

Something cool wrapped around his wrist and only belated did he realize it was Angelina's hand. "Don't." She said. "Don't hurt yourself."

Numbly he started at his knuckles. They hurt. A little blood welled up from a small cut. He'd punched the window.

"Sorry," he whispered. "Sorry, I-"

"Can you drive?"

The question was so strange, it stopped him from rocking in the seat.

"I'm fourteen," he said plainly.

"That's not what I asked."

"I'm not allowed to drive."

"Can you?"

He remembered hours on the parking lot of the closed convenience store, Sloane by his side, patiently guiding him. Their plan had been to take the care and just drive West steadily. Change drivers, when one of them would have to sleep, Sloane had explained. Get away from their parents influence as quickly as possible, and build up a new life somewhere else.

She'd done it, in the end. Without him.

"Yeah," he admitted. "I can."

"I can't," she said, just as plainly. "You drive us home."

"You got here, somehow."

"Barely." She dropped the key on his lap.

"It's illegal."

"Fuck the rules." She seemed startled herself by her words, but also somewhat... delighted.

Stunned, Bradley took the keys.

They didn't get out to change seats. On some silent agreement, she slid over onto the passenger seat under him, before he shifted to the driver's seat.

"Rules that only enforce oppression need to be broken." She bit her lip, and the matter seemed to important to her, that Bradley didn't see fit to tell her that traffic rules had been implemented to safe lives. It probably wasn't the point here. "Rosa broke your mom's rules and I hope she found freedom." She looked at him from clear brown eyes, a stare so intense that he couldn't break free. "She broke your rules, too, Bradley, didn't she? But if she's a person, as you say, and as I think she is, too, these rules ate wrong. Have been wrong, for all your lifetime. The rules were her prison. And she left it."

Her smile was soft. "It's good that you called me. You were wrong, thinking that I've got it from here. But I think I'm a step closer to figuring it out."

She didn't say So are you.

He heard it anyway. And maybe, she was right.

"Tell me where we're going," he said, and turned the key in the ignition.

Angelina leaned back in her seat, squinted at the blue afternoon sky.

"The sea," she suggested. "What about that?"

Bradley smiled.

[whoops-all-jennas]

Past Lives pt. 7

Wednesday x witch!reader

"I've got this strangest feeling."

"This isn't our first time around."

Summary: You and Wednesday investigate Xavier before attending the Rave'n

I wake up to the sound of papers rustling and Wednesday thinking out loud to herself. The morning sun beaming through the windows making me never want to open my eyes.

I dramatically sit up, my white hair going every which way. I feel I have more energy than usual, maybe I needed that release of energy.

My feet find their way into the slippers by my bed, I'm wearing pajama shorts and an oversized band tee. The shirt has clearly seen better days as the graphic is faded.

I walk to the center of the room to find Wednesday in front of a bulletin board, crossing her arms in thought. The bulletin board is covered in pictures of wounds and bodies. I assume these are all the victims of the murders, Wednesday did say she snuck out last night to the morgue.

I turn around to find Enid sleeping still, so I keep in mind of my volume. "Good morning Wends, did you sleep or?"

Wednesday turns around to meet me, her eyes going to my white messy hair. "I can see you did." She responded in a whisper, unsure if it's because Enid is sleeping is because she's just naturally mimicking my volume.

Her eyes linger on my hair a moment longer before turning back around.

"Are you the one who set the statue on fire?" I ask in a whisper.

Wednesday moves a picture before pushing a thumbtack through it. "I thought you did. When I looked at you it was as if you were concentrating on the fire."

I at least know it wasn't Wednesday. "I think I did?"

Wednesday turns around again. "You think?"

"I kinda zoned out, but it felt like all the emotions of yesterday just kinda like, alleviated in that moment."

I find Wednesday's new soft gaze meeting mine. Ever since that vision yesterday she's been looking at me differently. A good different.

"Why did you play a song while the fire was going on?"

Wednesday stares off to the side before meeting my gaze again. "I wasn't sure what was happening and if you were involved or not. Besides, I can handle people being suspicious of me."

Wednesday turned back around, bringing her attention back to the bulletin board.

Was she trying to be a distraction for me?

"I'm gonna get ready, we can talk about whatever you uncovered from the morgue when I'm done." She stopped moving while I was talking before going back to what she was doing.

That's about as much of an acknowledgement I'm going to get from Wednesday with a statement like that. I head back to my section of the room to get ready.

"While most plants reward their pollinators with sweet nectar, many carnivorous varieties turn to sexual trickery or deception." Ms. Thornhill is holding up a dangerous looking plant casually while addressing the class.

I glance at Wednesday, noticing Xavier staring at me before we both look away from each other.

Ms. Thornhill keeps teaching the class, but none of it retains in my memory over Xavier and I's occasionally glances at each other from across the sunlit room.

"Now, once the plant is pollinated, what do the male insects get in exchange?" Ms. Thornhill looks to me, about to call on me to answer after noticing my lack of attention.

"Nada. Just like all the guys at the Rave'n." Bianca answers before Ms. Thornhill embarrasses me. Some light chuckles fill the classroom.

"Okay, okay. I know you're all excited about Saturday, which is why I haven't assigned any homework." Ms. Thornhill states, causing a majority of the class to cheer quietly.

"But I do still need volunteers for the decorating committee. Anyone interested, come and see me up here." Some students stand to approach the teacher's desk, while Wednesday and I stay in place.

"What? you don't want to volunteer?" I say jokingly.

"I hope that isn't your best attempt at a joke." Wednesday glares at me for a moment, causing me to look away to see Xavier's glance on me.

"I feel bad, about what I said yesterday to Xavier." I say with a worried look on my face. "Maybe I overreacted."

Wednesday turns to see Xavier bending over to put something in his bag that's on the floor, revealing the fresh wounds on his neck.

"Maybe we can kill two birds with one stone." Wednesday states, turning back to me. "We can follow him until I notice something that can potentially give us a lead."

"Do you suspect Xavier?" I ask in a worried whisper.

"Only by proximity, nothing certain. Yet." Wednesday turns to look at Xavier again. "But, a suspect is still a suspect."

Wednesday and I find ourselves near a shed by the school. Xavier leaves the shed shortly after we arrive. We're hiding behind a bush so he can't see us.

"Cast the spell." Wednesday demands. I take out my wand, casting the disillusionment charm on her so she can sneak into the shed with ease.

"We'll meet back here afterwards so I can remove the charm." I don't hear a response, but I assume she nodded.

I stand, doing a light run to catch up to him. "Xavier!"

He turns around to meet me. "Hey y/n, what's up." He's clearly acting like nothing is wrong.

"I just wanted to apologize about how I acted yesterday, I shouldn't have blown up on you like that."

He avoids my gaze for a moment. "I should apologize too, I shouldn't have been so inconsiderate."

"No, no. You don't need to apologize, I should've controlled my emotions better." I say quickly after he's done speaking.

"Can you just let me have this?" He says with a smile.

I smile back. "So we're cool?"

"Yeah." He puts out his fist, waiting for our knuckles to meet.

I lightly tap my knuckles against his. "We should hangout soon. Maybe play Mario Maker levels made by sadistic assholes." I say jokingly.

He responds with a light chuckle, tearing his eyes away from me to look at the ground.

The creek of the shed door opening draws both of our attention away from the conversation.

"Is there someone in there?" He says, mostly to the wind.

We both approach the shed, opening the door more letting the daylight fill the room.

"Must be something wrong with the door." I say out loud before closing it.

I turn to meet Xavier. "I was being serious about doing something soon, I miss spending time with you."

"Maybe we can hangout at the dance on Saturday, purely platonically I mean of course." His face goes slightly red.

"I wasn't going to go, but if you want to hangout there I can." I state uncertainly before pointing behind me with my thumb. "I'm gonna leave, Wednesday is probably waiting for me so she can drag me to a crime scene or something."

"Alright, see you at the dance then." Xavier waves before walking off.

I find my way back behind the bush, accidentally bumping into Wednesday. "Shit, sorry."

I pull out my wand and holding my hand out expectingly. She finds her hand in mine. I tap the wand onto her hand as she becomes visible again.

"Did you find anything?"

"Yes, but let's get back to our dorm first." She states, quickly turning around before she starts walking.

The dorm is filled with sunlight from the sunroof, I find myself sitting in Wednesday's reading chair next to her bulletin board with her standing over me.

I hold Xavier's drawing in my hand with Wednesday's expecting glance over me. "What do you think?"

"I think if anything this makes him more innocent." I state flatly. "He's a psychic like his father, but he told me about how he gets visions in dreams usually in the form of nightmares."

I look up to Wednesday from the drawing. "I also doubt the monster knows this much physical detail about himself."

Wednesday looks at me a bit disappointed by my conclusion.

"But, if this is the case. He could be extremely helpful to our case."

Wednesday's look turns from disappointment to curiosity. "How so."

"He's getting visions about the monster we're hunting. He could likely give us some leads."

Our conversation is cut short as Enid bursts into the room, skipping across the room towards us.

"Good, you both are here." She stops in front of us with a smile. "Are you two going to the Rave'n? I'm about to go out with some friends to find clothes, if you guys are interested you can tag along."

I stand up. "Yeah I'll come with."

Wednesday gives me a confused look. "You're going to the dance?"

"Yeah, I told Xavier that we could spend time together at the dance. Purely platonically of course." I pause for a moment before I continue. "You should come to the dance to, it could be fun."

"Ooo, inviting Wednesday to the dance?" Enid draws out of the o's accusingly.

My face flushes red in embarrassment. "I didn't mean it like that!" I say somehow in the least convincing way possible.

Enid gives me a smug look before glancing past me. Wednesday in now in her section of the room grabbing a few things. "Yeah, yeah. I'm getting tired of waiting! You two just need to-"

I find myself lunging towards Enid, covering her mouth with my hand to force her to stop talking.

"Enid, please stop!" I drag out the e in the word please.

She lightly kicks behind my knee playfully, causing me to fall on top of her.

"Enid!" I shout before scrambling to my feet. Enid has the dumbest smile on her face when I look over her. She's still on the floor.

"Are we leaving or not." Wednesday's monotone voice reaches my ears, causing me to turn around to see her ready to go out.

"Wait, you're actually coming!?" I take a step closer, excitement painting my face and lacing my voice.

"If you two stop bickering." She states flatly

I turn to see Enid's smug face as she's back on her feet now.

I walk past Enid while I head to the door. "Not a word about this."

She nods with the same expression before leaving the room with us.

"What kind of dystopian hell scape is this?" I state with a look of disgust.

Y/n, Enid, and I are standing in front of Hawte Kewture, the clothing store is decorated with blue and pink pastels. So, quite literally, my worst nightmare.

Enid turns to you with excitement. "Our first roomie shopping spree with Wednesday! The dance committee's suggesting all white to match the theme, but that's not gonna fly with Wednesday."

I turn towards them. "I have some more pressing matters to deal with."

Enid's excitement turns into disappointment. "But I thought we were bonding."

"I will meet up with you two later, or you'll meet up with me. Whatever comes first."

Y/n and Enid glance at each other for a moment. "If you say so." You say with slight disappointment in your voice.

You and Enid turn around to enter the store, I take the chance to leave before you manage to persuade me to enter that dungeon of a store.

When I'm walking down the street Thing taps my shoulder as we pass Uriah's Heap. "I'm going to see Galpin, I'm not stop-" I turn to look into the window to see a gothic black dress.

"Hi, Wednesday." The sound of a bell fills the air as my therapist leaves the store. "That dress will certainly turn some heads."

"Are you collecting more exotic trinkets for your office?" I state, drawing the attention away from the dress.

"Those are souvenirs from my travels. That's how I step outside of my comfort zone. Speaking of which, are you going to the Rave'n this weekend?"

"I'm not required to answer your questions out in the wild, am I?" I try to end the conversation.

"I look forward to talking about it at our next session." She turns to leave the other way. I turn to the entrance of the store, taking my time to enter.

I left with the dress in a bag, I wasn't expecting you to manage to persuade me to buy a dress.

I put Xavier's drawing on the sheriff's desk. "We both know there's a monster out there. If we're going to stop it, I think it's time we put our differences aside and work together."

"And this is your stake for me to deal you in?" The sheriff is now holding the drawing, inspecting it before grabbing a photograph and putting them side by side.

"Sorry you gotta do better than that. You've got some nice detail though." He hands me the drawing back.

"I didn't draw it." I fold the drawing before putting it back into my backpack.

"I need to know who did." He states firmly

"Unless we're exchanging intel, I'm not at liberty to say."

He sighs while looking off to the side. "Why would I share information about an ongoing murder investigation with a high school kid?"

"Because I go to Nevermore and you don't. Don't you want some eyes and ears behind those ivy-covered walls?"

"Listen Velma, why don't you and the Scooby gang stick to your homework and leave the investigating to the professionals." The phone starts ringing, causing the sheriff to answer. "What?"

The voice on the other end is slightly distorted by the age of the technology. "Mayor Walker's on line two, he's looking for an update."

I take cue to leave. "Hey, Addams."

The sheriff beckons me over. "Let me see that sketch again."

I walk back in, handing him the drawing.

"The person who drew this, that your suspect?"

I shake my head. "I believe he's having visions about it."

The sheriff is silent for a moment. "When you bring me some concrete evidence, maybe we'll talk."

I take the sketch back, before leaving the police station.

I'm sitting inside the Weathervane with Enid and her friends. I see Wednesday walk past though the window. "I'll be right back, I'm gonna check on Wednesday real quick."

Everyone at the table quietly acknowledges my statement before I leave the store.

The bell of the door fills the air. "Wednesday!" She turns around as I catch up.

"I see you found something." I look towards her bag.

We both continue walking, rounding a corner to be met with Tyler on the other side.

"Don't wanna ask what trouble you two are in now." Tyler looks past us for a second, looking at the sheriff's office behind us.

"Nothing we can't handle. Your father's in particularly frustrating form today. Avoid." Wednesday says as Tyler draws his vision back to us.

"Yeah, welcome to my world." Tyler murmurs before changing the conversation. "You guys have the Rave'n this weekend, right? It was all the buzz at the Weathervane today."

"Yeah, the Rave'ns this weekend." I answer, curious on where he's going.

"Are you going with anyone Wednesday?" Tyler asks, a bit of nervousness to his voice.

I find Wednesday glancing at me for a moment. "I'm going with Y/n."

I look at Wednesday trying to conceal my shock.

He avoids eye contact for a moment "Hope you two have fun." Disappointment laces his voice as he walks past us

Wednesday turns around to face him. "I'm not sure why you're upset."

"That's kind of the problem." Tyler turns around to meet us again. "I mean, call me crazy, Wednesday, but you keep giving me these signals.

"You're crazy." I interject myself into the conversation to be met with a scowl from Tyler.

His eyes soften again before meeting Wednesday's. "I thought we liked each other, but then you pull something like this, and I have no idea where I stand. I mean, am I in the more than friend zone or just a pawn in some game you're playing."

There's a lull in the conversation before Wednesday continues. "I like girls, Tyler."

My ears perk up at this wonderful news.

"I mean, yeah clearly. You're going with her." Tyler gestures his hand towards me. "Sorry, that was mean."

There was another lull in the conversation filled with awkward silence.

He points behind himself. "I guess I'll see you guys around." He turns around to walk away.

I walk into my shared dorm room to get ready for the Rave'n early. The room is dark as the sun has set. I'm the only soul in here. I assume Wednesday is still moving the evidence board to the bee shed.

Enid wasn't the biggest fan of having a board covered in pictures of corpse parts in the dorm.

I approach my desk to be greeted with a letter with the initials 'W.A.'

I pick it up, carefully opening the envelope as to not tear anything.

Dear Y/n Y/l/n,

I'm having trouble trying to find the words, this is all new to me. I believe I may have some sort of 'feelings' for you. Every time we come in to contact, I have this nauseating feeling in the pit of my stomach. My heart races, unable to be calm in the presence of your touch. Yet, I'm insatiable for more.

I believe you may reciprocate these feelings, so why must we pretend otherwise? I want to attend this dance together more than merely friends.

However, if you don't reciprocate these feelings, I demand you burn this letter and forget this happened.

Wednesday Addams

The happiest smile slips onto my face as I jump in place. I put the letter in the top drawer of my desk before the door to the dorm opens.

Wednesday walks through the doorway, gazing towards me. She seems nervous.

"Wednesday!" I practically run to close the distance, my smile somehow getting bigger now that she's in my presence.

"I assume you found the letter." She states with a hint of worry.

I quickly nod. "Yes, and my answer is yes!"

Wednesday releases an exhale of relief. I see the weight release off her chest through her perfect posture.

"Can I uhm." I am now much quieter, my face quickly flushing red. "Can we hug?"

After Wednesday is silent for a moment and avoiding eye contact, I worry I may have overstepped.

"It's okay if you-"

"Yes." I find Wednesday's eyes have finally met mine again. "Please."

My smile returns before I wrap my arms around her into a warm embrace. Wednesday stands there for a moment with her arms by her side, unsure what to do.

Eventually, Wednesday reciprocates the hug. Wrapping her arms around my waist. Her touch is cool yet comforting.

We both untangle ourselves from the embrace, the warmth of each other's touch lingering on our skin.

"I'm going to get ready." I tell Wednesday, before heading to my closet.

I find myself waiting outside at the bottom of the stairs outside the dorm room. I didn't take as long as Wednesday to get ready.

I turn to the sound of Wednesday's heels tapping against the stairs. She's wearing this beautiful black gothic dress.

I can't help but gawk at the beauty descending the stairs. She looks ethereal.

"Wow, Wednesday. You look... " I'm silent for a moment, trying to find the right words and the confidence to speak them.

"Unrecognizable? Ridiculous?"

I find myself stumped for another moment. "Beautiful, I mean it Wednesday you have me at a loss for words."

Her gaze softens at my sentiment. Her eyes scan my body, silently admiring my appearance.

She breaks eye contact for a moment. "We can hold hands, if that's something you want to do."

I think it's so cute that's she trying to play it off as if she doing it for me.

"Yeah, I'd like that." I hold my hand out, waiting for hers to meet mine before our fingers interlock. I feel a jolt of electricity shoot through me from her contact, bringing to life the butterflies in my stomach.

"Shall we go?" I can tell by the slight shakiness to her voice I'm having the same effect on her.

I nod, my smile impossible to hide, as we make our way to the dance.

Wednesday and I walk through the entrance, our fingers interlocked. The sound of pop music fills the room as I feel everyone's eyes on us before Ms. Thornhill approaches. "Wednesday, Y/n. What a lovely surprise.

Thornhill's eyes stare at our hands. "I didn't know you two were a couple." She says with a smile

Wednesday and I glance at each other. "It's kind of a new thing." I say awkwardly.

"We're going to get drinks." Wednesday states, mostly to me.

"Have fun you two!" Ms Thornhill says with a smile as we walk away.

We approach the long table together. I squeeze Wednesday's hand so I don't get use to her touch.

"OMG I love the look!" Enid approaches, excitement filling her very being. We both turn towards her and she notices our hands.

Enid's eyes go wide. "Wait are you two officially a thing now?!"

I feel the temperature of my face drastically rise, Wednesday turns her face to see mine.

"I uh-" I start to say before Wednesday interrupts me.

"Interesting choice of date." Wednesday states flatly, looking past Enid to see Lucas.

I follow Wednesday's eyes, finding Lucas standing awkwardly.

"Wait, your date is Lucas Walker? You know he's the worst right?" I say, a hint of malice in my voice.

"It's not what it looks like." Enid says defensively.

"Good, because that pilgrim already has two strikes in my book." Wednesday is practically staring daggers at Lucas.

"Lucas is trying to make his ex jealous, and I'm trying to make Ajax jealous. It's a win-win."

"Why can't you just talk to Ajax instead of doing this? Communication is important." I say, ending my sentence quickly as I see Lucas approaching.

He puts his hands up like we're arresting him. "Wednesday, Y/n, I come in peace."

"That's a shame, I brought my pocket mace." Wednesday says, causing Lucas to lower his arm with a bit of fear etched onto his face. "The medieval kind."

Wednesday turns to grab herself and I a drink as Enid and Lucas walk away. "Just to let you know in advance, tomorrow night we're going to stake out a cave with Eugene. Eugene saw something in one of Xavier's drawing."

Wednesday hands me the drink. "I haven't been too good at keeping you up to date on our plans. I apologize."

I grab the drink. "It's cool, thanks for the heads up." I motion to dink Wednesday's and I's drinks together before each of us takes a sip.

We both turn as we see Xavier approach us at of our peripheral vision. "Hey Xavier! Did you ever find someone to come with?"

He looks around awkwardly for a moment. "Yeah uh, I came with Bianca."

The smile fades from my face. "What, why would you do that?"

Xavier shrugs. "Better than going alone I guess."

There is a lull in the conversation until 'The Goo Goo Muck' by 'The Cramps' started playing.

Wednesday drags me towards the crowd dancing. "Dance with me."

"Wednesday, I don't know I'm not much of a dancer." There's a hint of anxiety on my face as we get closer to the crowd.

"Why'd you agree to come to the dance with me if we weren't going to dance." She's dragging me in-between people now, persistent on the idea.

"I uh-" I find myself still as Wednesday let's go of my hand.

I find her eyes staring into mine intensely as she starts to get into the music, shaking her shoulders back and forth to the rhythm. I stand there awkwardly, watching her.

Her movements are rigid, but rhythmic. I find myself entranced.

I leave the trance after a few moments, remembering where I am. I look around to find people staring, and I can't tell if it's the good or bad kind.

My heartbeat accelerates at the sudden attention. I find myself unable to move. Do people think I'm weird? Why won't I dance?

I force my legs to move, shaking from the anxiety as I walk through the crowd of people dancing.

"Y/n?" I faintly hear Wednesday's voice as I make more distance.

I find an almost empty area just outside the party. I sigh as I sit down.

"Y/n?" I hear Wednesday's voice again as she sits down next to me. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I just. I get overwhelmed by crowds easily." I say, an awkward silence fills the air besides the muted sound of the music from the party.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have forced you." Wednesday states, a hint of empathy in her voice.

I find myself staring at the floor. "I want you to have fun as well though."

I find myself having difficulty choosing between looking at Wednesday and avoiding all eye contact, flickering between both.

"How about we take it slower." Wednesday scots closer, my eyes manage to remain on Wednesday's empathetic ones. "When a slow song plays, we'll dance together. I'll lead and guide you as we move along to the music."

I find myself nodding with a smile. "Okay, thank you Wends." A little bit of the anxiety fading.

Bianca walks in, taking a seat near us. I hold back any negative comments as it could effect Xavier's night as well. I notice her eyes are slightly glossy.

"I know this isn't usually something I'd ask you, but are you okay?" I ask, slight concern in my voice

Bianca looks at me before shrugging, looking away again the next moment.

Wednesday and I exchange a glance. "Do you want to talk about it?" I ask.

After another moment of silence, Wednesday interjects. "Where's Xavier?"

"We had a little tiff." Bianca says, giving in. "About you two actually."

Wednesday and I share a concerned glance. "What about us?" We say simultaneously.

"He wasn't expecting to see you two together. He was happy for you at first, but there was jealousy building up or something. After he saw you two dancing, or more so saw Wednesday dancing and you standing there, he asked me to use my siren song on him to have him forget his feelings."

I look away for a second, ignoring her comment before speaking. "He did that?"

Bianca nods with her eyes slightly more glossy. I can imagine how used she must feel.

Our conversation is cut short when a scream finds it way to our room. Wednesday and I instantly stand, looking towards the noise which is followed by multiple screams.

Wednesday grabs my hand as we run side by side back to the dance, where the screams originated. Some people covered in what looks like blood run past us.

After we squeeze through the crowd, we find the sprinklers are spraying the supposed blood all over the party.

Wednesday smiles at the scene before sticking out her hand under the continuous splatter, putting her finger to her mouth to taste whatever it is.

My face contorts a bit in disgust.

Wednesday's amused smile quickly fades. "They couldn't even spring for real pigs' blood." Her shoulders drop in disappointment. "It's only paint."

People continuously run past us in fear, unable to tell who's bumping into who. Suddenly, Wednesday's head falls back, entering a vision.

I hold Wednesday to avoid her falling and for us to not be trampled. As the crowd loses volume, Wednesday comes back. "Eugene is in the woods."

She meets my eyes with concern. "He's in danger."

Wednesday grabs my hand before running with the crowd. Letting go of my hand whenever we escape the crowd, we soon find ourselves leaving the school into the woods.

The hectic sound of our panic-filled footsteps fill the forest with the crunching of leaves. The moonlight casting a pale glow over the forest.

I wave my wand out, emitting a blue light to guide the way.

"Eugene!" Wednesday and I take turns shouting. My heart beating at a thousand miles an hour, my legs burning at the sudden activity.

We both stop for a moment, looking around. "Eugene?!" I shout.

"Y/n! over here!" We hear Eugene yell.

Wednesday and I turn towards his voice, running towards it as fast as possible

We find Eugene laying in the fallen leaves. "Eugene." Wednesday states, standing in place.

I quickly approach Eugene, kneeling beside him. He has three fresh claw wounds across his chest, the blood pouring out of them. I close my eyes, recalling a spell I've been practicing the past few months.

I put my wand to the end of one of the claw marks running across his torso, blood trickling out staining his clothes.

"Oh my God! Is he alive?!" Ms Thornhill approaches from behind.

I close my eyes in frustration and panic. "Everyone please shut up!" I shout, overwhelmed. "I need to concentrate."

Everyone goes silent, staring at my back. I put my wand back to the top of the wound, running it down smoothly till it reaches the bottom.

"Vulnera, Sanentur." My voice utters the incantations slowly and rhythmically in a hushed lullaby.

I repeat the incantation, following the same motion. This time, the blood starts to clear away into nothing. Cleaning the wound.

I pause for a moment, before doing the incantation one more time. The wound knitting itself shut.

I take a deep inhale. "Two more to go." I utter to myself, feeling the four eyes behind me staring into me like daggers.

I find the end of the second cut, my wand trembling. I take another deep breath to collect myself.

"Vulnera Sanentur." It feels as if my voice is the only sound in the world.

Whenever I finish with that cut, I feel my eyes getting glossy. The stress overflowing my body. I can't break down just yet. I find the last cut, casting the healing spell one last time.

I stare at his unconscious body, at his healed but new found scars. Tears start to stream down my face, the stress escaping my body.

I put my hands over eyes, my shoulders slumped forward. The sound of my sobs echo amongst the trees. The sense of relief strengthening my overwhelmed tears.

Part 8.

Past Lives Masterlist

[disdaidal]

The moment I think I'm finally getting the hang of this thing, I don't. And it puts my mood down instantly.

[seiwas]

sellllllll it's meeeeee. hehehehehehehehehhehe

so for ur writing exercises.... deku + light? please? pretty please?

:3c

heheh heheh hehe niku. this will be the death of me. me writing izuku for the first time 🥲 i will only do this for you </3

contains: established relationship, spoilers for the end of the manga, aged up deku but sometime in between the final outcome (he doesn't get the h*** s*** from bakugo yet), mentions of sex and scars

deku + light

izuku only sleeps with the lights off.

it isn't uncommon; many people you know can't sleep with even just a sliver of light turned on somewhere in the room. but the difference with izuku, you learn, is not that he's unable to stand the light―it's that he refuses to.

you quickly pick up on it the first few times he sleeps over.

he fidgets in bed, pretty badly, actually. the nightlight you sleep with glows a warm yellow, illuminating the side of your face and coating him in its afterglow. you chalk it up to nerves, how he pulls at his sleeves and adjusts his position constantly; he is, after all, one of the most anxious people you know.

and this relationship―it's new. heck, even you feel a little jittery with his arm wrapped around you.

the rhythmic tapping on your hip only increases pace. you don't think he realizes it, so your hand gently reaches for his, intertwining your fingers as you turn around in his arms.

he's close, nearly touching you nose-to-nose; the proximity leaves you fuzzy, a little ticklish, so you giggle, a soft "oops," as the freckles dusting his face almost glisten under the warm light.

"hi," you whisper, meeting his eyes; they stare back at you wide in surprise, "can't sleep?"

he looks almost guilty at your question, as if you’ve caught him with the one thing he's been trying to keep from you.

"just—" his voice comes out louder than intended, prompting him to chuckle nervously as he readjusts his volume, "just winding down, sorry."

you inch closer, nuzzling his nose lightly, "it's okay."

"did i wake you?" he asks, cheeks flushing pink as his eyebrows furrow in immediate concern. his expression is something caught between stifling a grin and feeling sorry.

you shake your head against the pillow you share, strands of your hair tangling with his. "just winding down," you tease, watching as his gaze turns softer, eyelids drooping heavier.

sometimes, you think, izuku holds the world in his eyes―a deep, dark green, the color of life. most times, they look at you with wonderment, bright and alive; photos from inko tell you they're the eyes of his inner child.

on nights like this one, however, they hide a depth in them weighted by what you can only assume is time, and all that has happened to him in such a short span of it.

you try your best to understand what lies beneath them, knowing full well he'll never tell you outright what truly bothers him.

"is it the light?" you bring up, some time after laying in silence.

"hm?" he clarifies.

"do you have a hard time sleeping with the nightlight?"

his eyes widen briefly once more, as if shocked that you've caught him again. these split second reactions are ones you've learned to be attentive to when it comes to izuku.

"no," he tries to lie, but you know better as you turn to your nightstand and reach for its switch, "you don't–"

"it was hurting my eyes," you quickly make up an excuse, tucking yourself closer under his chin as you cut off his attempt to deny it again.

finding out that the light was the problem was the easy part—

you'd begun to notice much earlier on that izuku was barely rested on the nights he'd spend at your place. it was only when your old nightlight broke that you began to notice him waking up much later than you did, groggily rousing from a deep sleep.

—what was hard, was figuring out why.

at first, you suspected it was his scars.

"s-sorry, it's not—" he'd warned you, right as your hands gripped the hem of his shirt the first time you were about to have sex, "—it's not nice."

you didn't care though; you still don't care, and you've made that abundantly clear to him since. you love izuku and all his parts―all the nicks and jaggedy pieces of skin that make up who he is.

when you eventually ask him about it, with a request that he be honest with you for once, he tells you that it is and it isn't―the reason why he exclusively sleeps with the lights off, that is.

it's an odd, comforting relationship he has with his body—that he is simultaneously grateful and sorry for how its become a canvas, both painted and marred to symbolize japan’s historic last stand.

you find out the real reason when you catch him staring at his hands.

he does it often, when he thinks you aren't looking—his fists bunched up in the same way he used to watch the power of one for all course through his fingertips; the same way he used to prepare them in battle.

there’s a faraway look in his eyes that lingers, you notice—a little wistful if anything.

“do you miss it?” you finally ask. he gives you the same shocked look he does every time, as if he’s been caught with a secret he’s been trying to hide.

he’s learned a fair bit about you now, too, though—lying to you is futile when you’ve perfected reading his truth. he stares at his fists again as you take a seat beside him, moving to give you space. you rest your head on his shoulder gently, waiting.

“sometimes,” he admits, but you know it’s an understatement.

“i think about the vestiges a lot. i miss them the most, i think,” he continues, clenching his fists tightly, “i always try to reach out to them, but i guess it doesn’t work that way.”

“i… i try to replicate the right conditions every night, but…” then he lets go, stretching his fingers out wide. the scars on the surface ripple through his skin, telling its own story.

you hum, acknowledging what he means. silence sits with the two of you as you take his hand in yours, slowly unfurling his fingers until his palm reveals itself to you. it’s rough to the touch, seasoned with hard work and all that he’s been through.

“is that why you prefer the dark?” you ask softly, after some time.

it's not often that you stay up later than izuku does. when you do though, you catch him shifting in bed, moving from side-to-side. you pretend you aren't awake, but you hear him mumble their names, dwindling in volume as he dozes off to sleep.

he stares at his palm for a moment before he admits quietly, "yeah." his brows furrow as if contemplating whether to say more, but he shakes his head, dark green strands swaying to the beat of his embarrassed chuckle, "nevermind, it's silly."

"it's not."

you intertwine your fingers, sandwiching his hand between yours. a slight sheen glosses over his eyes as he tilts his head up to look at you. he draws in a breath, before it spills over.

"it's..." he finds the words, and you squeeze his hand in comfort, "it's easier to believe it was all real when the lights are out, and that maybe it can happen again."

[flowerakatsuka]

some doodles based on the gender thoughts i've been having about kuroba the past few days, mostly on how their appearance changed between middle school and their final year of high school. i also thought it'd be funny if kuroba didn't get recognized by classmates while they were helping at the flower shop back then, ( foreshadowing ig. )

[kikuism]

my coworker is so nice omg.....i've always admired her style too :'))

[nordic-language-love]

My current job I work on average 5.5 hours a day and you know what? I think that's the perfect amount of time to work. I have plenty of time for my hobbies while also staying on top of the housework and I'd probably have time for a social life if I wanted one (I don't lmao I'm happy just chilling on tumblr), but having a job also gives me structure and a feeling of contributing to society. I think everyone should have a work week that looks like mine. 9-5 5 days a week/grind culture is bullshit and it's tragic that it's become the accepted standard pretty much worldwide.

[longagoitwastuesday]

Going through the Utahim.e tag had me checking several times if at some point I had clicked on the G.ojo/Utahim.e one instead