#in which i chase paper cuts

[puella-peanut]

Teenage tramp Daniel has the hots for handyman Kreese lmao. Thots?

Gorgeous, seventeen year old neighborhood tramp Daniel LaRusso is…mad. Big Mad to be exact. 

It’s all because his attempts at seducing the local, rugged, handsome neighborhood handyman have…fallen flat. Failed to lift off. Closed on opening night. Houston, we have a problem, and his name is John Kreese. 

Thing is, Daniel’s gone all out. Taken out all the big guns. Brought out the big, flashy, show-stopping numbers. He’s been coy, coquettish. An innocent and not-so-innocent tease. Sweet and shy. Sassy and spunky. A bonafide ingenue to the Lolita of the Valley, and all around the block and back again! 

Jeeze, he’s never worked this hard for a lay in his life!

See now—he’s worn his tiny band crop tops. His tiny tank-tops cut to show plump, caramel nipples. His even tinier, cut off jean-shorts that hardly leave anything to the imagination. 

He’s boosted himself up on the front of John’s battered Ford pickup, just to criss-cross those long, bare, coltish legs of his. Straddled (and stolen) ladders John’s been using while he works, to display parted, slender thighs. (And show off how limber he is. How…flexible.) Reached up to grab at nothing on his toes to show off a waist so small and trim that a pair of (large, callused, rough) masculine hands could span oh-so-easily. He’s bent himself over convenient surfaces—countertops, couches, tables, wobbly banisters and kiddie coloring tables for crying out loud!—to show off his sweet, juicy ass. The lush cheeks that spill out. The roundness of it all. 

He’s brushed up against John, sat touching him knee-to-knee, fallen across him “accidentally”, faked a sprained ankle in the hopes of a bridal-carry, and still—still goddammit!!—John hasn’t paid him any attention!! Not the slightest bit. 

All Daniel has gotten in return is: ‘Hey, you’re in my way.’ To, ‘Put some clothes on, Prima Donna, it’s January, and your sneezing is unhygienic.’ And even a, ‘Join the Service, kid. That’ll whip some sense into you.’

Ugh. 

Ugh. Ugh. Ughhhh. 

…Why, by this time with his other conquests, he’d gotten railed twice over! All stupid, annoying, teenage boys; simple schoolboy, after-school flings to pass the time. Like that total brain-dead bimbo Johnny, or violent karate bad-boy Mike. To foreign exchange student Chozen, followed by future sociopath Dutch. A real slick wannabe named Ponytail got him next, then sweet preacher’s boy Bobby. Jimmy and Tommy had tag teamed him after, and then finally that dorky piano nerd, rich-boy Twig (he’d gotten real maid service, a night in a mansion, and breakfast in bed for that one!). Between all of them, Daniel had gotten laid in six months more than some people did in an entire year! Lifetime even! Yeah, yeah, the lays themselves didn’t rank too high on the scale of one to ten (some far lower than others!)—but a fucking was a fucking, and he had been sixteen and desperately horny. Besides it had been summer, and California had made it too hot to be too fussy. 

…Except that now he is, because there is something about this Kreese that gets him all hot and bothered. Something about those sinewy, hairy, muscular arms. That solid, sturdy body. The heavy booted footsteps. The worn jeans and faded flannel. The fluffy, sandy hair (and matching, coarse stubble). The hairy, broad, hard chest. The squareness of his jaw, the strapping height. The surprising brightness of his blue eyes. The sudden, rare smiles. The fact that he is older, is an adult. A full grown man. That he can do anything to Daniel, and, smitten boy that he is, he’d let him. 

Yeah, Daniel wants him like one would want a cool drink on a hot day. He has it bad. But things have to get worse before they get better, right? And all fevers must run their course. 

And boy, what a fever this is!

(And may he never recover!)

…

Meanwhile, our John has indeed been stoic in the little tease’s presence—but, thing is, the moment he’s alone, tucked away safe in his bed or in the shower or even that one time in his kitchen for fuck’s sake—John has spent nearly every spare minute in his day jacking off furiously. Getting his sheets, tiles—even kitchen countertop—all sticky with jizz like he was fifteen again, and had seen a pair of breasts for the first time in a dirty magazine. (But those thoughts of his former teenage fantasies have nothing on the centerfold that is LaRusso.)

And, damn it, he spends far too much of his day dreaming about that full, red mouth. The glossy, floppy hair. Those long-lashed big brown eyes. The perky brown nipples, the slightest swell of the soft chest on that tiny, fragile body. The endless, shapely legs. The endless, tan skin. The endless smoothness of it. The curve of that plump ass. The bounce it had, the little tormenting jiggle when the boy walked with a spring in his step. The sweet little puckered cunt hidden between those slim thighs. How it would drip and spill and gush out all that John has to give the little shit. Is dying to. 

Oh, John’s got a calendar counting down the days until the boy is legal, until he’s all of eighteen and the law can’t save him—and then John’s gonna fuck him into submission, rail him into obedience. Pound that tight, juicy, boypussy raw until LaRusso can’t think for how good John’s giving it to him. 

And then he’s gonna make the little shit his, because fuck it all—the little Italian brat has made him fall for his charms big time.

Only a matter of time kid, John thinks later, watching the boy work his bag of tricks with a stoic, calm expression. Though he all but grins (inwardly) when the boy fumes in frustration at his non-reaction.

Just you wait, Prima Donna, John promises.

You’re mine. 

[puella-peanut]

Mercy Is A Sharp Knife

Thinking about something like this happening in Mercy: Terry’s finally let Daniel out of the room, and they’re having some sort of conversation, Daniel talking more than usual, desperate for some sort of companionship, or socialization and not really aware of it. 

Perhaps the drugs make him a little tired, so he leans back against a wall to catch his breath—after all, this is the first time in months that he’s left that room. 

Terry steps in closer while Daniel’s relaxing a moment, continuing the conversation easily.  He keeps stepping in further, eventually trapping Daniel where he is. Daniel reacts sluggishly and involuntarily—hands going up to Terry’s chest—but he’s too drugged out and weak to push him back, so his hands simply rest there while he glares up at Terry, Terry smiling down at him.

“Still don’t have any idea of personal space,” Daniel says, still defiant despite Terry looming over him, and being wobbly on his feet. 

Terry leans in closer. His shadow falls on Daniel’s face, those big brown eyes. He feels Daniel’s breath against him, how it’s sped up. He could lean down, brush his thumb against that plush mouth, pull the boy up on his toes, kiss him so easily—

“This is my house, Danny boy.” Terry says, watching Daniel’s face intently, every flicker of emotion that passes across it. Anger, sadness. Defiance. Confusion. “Every space in it is my personal space.”

“Yeah? You can have that back you know, all that personal space without me in it.” Daniel frowns at him, Terry’s gaze unwavering. He breaks eye contact first, glancing down to where his hands rest forgotten on Terry’s chest, curled into the lapels of his jacket. He colors slightly, and attempts to move them—

—but Terry’s faster. He grabs his thin wrists in one quick move, his other arm moving to rest close to Daniel’s head. He sees the boy’s eyes widen, sees how his mouth parts slightly. Rabbit teeth. Just like he remembers all those years ago.

“But you’re here on my request,” Terry says, lowly, his voice curling against Daniel’s skin. “You’re here because I want you to be here.” He feels him struggle a little against Terry’s iron grasp, biting his lip against any noise that threatens to escape. Terry simply waits, for the drugs to lull him again, for the defiance to pass like smoke. Daniel slumps, a little, and turns his head to the side with an angry sigh, closing his eyes and breathing out slowly. 

What would it be like, Terry thinks, to leave that slender throat covered in his marks? To taste that vulnerable skin offered so unknowingly to his gaze?

He leans in closer still. Making sure his breath curls against his Danny boy’s ear. “And here you’re going to stay, Daniel. Best get used to it.”

Daniel swallows, opening his eyes, yet refusing to look him in the face. “And if I don’t?”

Terry smiles at that, squeezes his wrists so that Daniel can’t help but make the smallest of pained noises. “You will, Danny. You will.”

👆🏻👆🏻👆🏻

I feel like giving you my notes and getting you to finish it lol

[lilacgaby]

‧₊˚ what are we?

...nothing. right?.₊˚⊹

convienence. a means to end. that's all this was for both of you right? when katsuki is fed up with the crazed fangirls who just won't leave him alone, he works out a deal with you. it was just coincidence he had a huge crush on you.

☆pair. 2ndyear!katsuki x reader. tags. fake dating!trope, fluff, reader is academically flopping for a bit, pet names, cursing, fighting (verbal), happy ending wc. 6k

ღnote. sorry that this took so long lol! i wrote this in chapter form if you'd like to read it here, but this one shot is the same thing.

post-war brought troubles for a lot of the students in class 1-A. especially bakugo katsuki.

he had to completely relearn how to write with his other hand, had to learn how to fight without injury to it.

and he had to learn to deal with his crazy amount of fangirls.

his fight had been broadcasted, the manner in which he pushed himself to the very brink broadcasted to the world. his victory brought spoils, though not in a way he expected.

he didn't expect to be chased down the hallways every morning, to have a line of girls wanting his autograph as he ate. he didn't expect to be gifted things, things they just assumed he liked, but couldn't be farther from the truth.

luckily, you seemed to like chocolate. he found refuge these days sitting on the roof floor of U-A next to you during lunch, passing you the chocolate gifts he'd been given.

he hated chocolate. but to be honest, he loved seeing you smile.

"thanks 'suki." you said for the nth time, picking the best chocolates out of the box and leaving the gross ones alone.

"yeah." he sighed, glancing at you occasionally as he moved to support the weight of his head with his hands. he found himself speechless around you often. words failing as he leant into the comfort of your presence.

you were about to say something, he thinks. your mouth was open though the blaring of the bell cut you off. "oh, let's go 'suki." you said, holding your hand out to him.

he took it, letting you pull him up and holding onto your hand for just a second too long. you dumped the rest of the chocolates in a trash can and made your collective way down to 1-A. you laughed at how he seemed to try and hide behind you, eyes darting around for the general course girls who seemed to have nothing better to do than follow him around.

they didn't come though. he saw a group of them but when they saw your proximity to him..

they left him alone.

a lightbulb went off in his head, he mentally kicked himself for not thinking of it sooner. as he sat in class, eyeing your seat between momo and jirou, he thought about how he'd ask you.

test papers were being passed out, graded ones. "yo man," kirishima started, looking over his paper, "what'd you get?"

katsuki scoffed. "what do you think? another 100, easy as shit."

kaminari groaned beside him, "you're cheating or something! i got an 80."

"that's high for someone like you!"

"hey!"

"aw man, i got a 70. you're so manly bakubro!"

"yeah, guess i am."

katsuki tried to resist the turning of his head, he really did. but he wanted to know what score you got, if you did well. though from the expression on your face and the way momo patted you on the back,

not to mention the red ink used all over your paper. he knew you didn't.

"man this totally sucks!" you exclaimed, your hands clutching the paper of your test. "i studied and everything, i don't even need math, im a hero for crying out loud!"

jirou's teases and momo's comforts faded into the background as he only focused on you, and the nagging feeling for him to help you.

with another ring of the bell and a sigh from mr. aizawa, katsuki left early to try and beat the crowd of girls who seemed to pounce on him.

he didn't though, he found himself at the entrance at U-A, almost to freedom when the crowd pointed at him, "that's him! i can't believe it!"

"dynamite, an autograph please?"

"hey- don't be so casual. it's lord explosion--"

"who cares? i want a photo!"

at that, they chased him. all his progress down the stairs and through the halls was gone as he was led right back down to class 1-A. he stupidly lead himself right back into a corner.

his head darted around, until he noticed a tuft of familiar hair in the classroom. you hadn't left? oh well, he needed your help and quick.

you were sobbing internally, looking over your horrific test score with a sad expression. a 70? you might as well just drop out now.

as the hours of studying you'd done for waste passed over in your mind, a noise caught you off guard.

he had burst in, making your deflated form jump off the desk. "katsuki, don't scare me like that!"

he rushed over to your side, grabbing your hand off where it was hanging limply on the desk. "be my girlfriend for a second."

the words barely even processed in your brain before you were being manhandled off the desk, your mind rushed to catch up. "wait-- wha-"

before you knew it you were led towards the door of obsessed fan girls. his hand was intertwined tightly with yours, a slight flush on his face.

"listen up." he started, making his fans shush eachother. "my girlfriend hasn't been appreciating all your bullshit. and neither have i, so for the love of god stop it already."

he pulled you alongside him, "move." a path opened for the two of you, letting you two through. he walked you to the entrance, no words spoken between the two of you until you stopped infront of the lockers where you'd keep your shoes.

"[name]-- uh." he took a breath, his heart sped up rapidly around you. it sped up at the simple tilt of your head.

"so. if you help me with this shit, i'll tutor you.

or whatever."

a hand was behind his head, his averted eyes now focusing on you as he awaited your answer with baited breath.

you had an expression of thoughtfulness on your face. your finger on your chin as you looked up to the ceiling to think.

'have everyone think youre dating a cute boy and get a tutor?'

the pinkie of your hand shot out, a closed eye smile on your face. "i'm in!"

a soft smile graced his lips, his pinkie intertwining with yours and sealing his fate in more ways than one.

because you really did have him wrapped around your finger. literally and figuratively.

"let's go to my room so we can talk over it!"

you really were going to be the death of him.

it's not like he'd never been to your room, just not in a situation like this.

not when he'd declared himself your boyfriend an hour earlier, not when his hands were sweaty with his nervousness, and not when you'd agreed so hastily to be his.

he wondered if you'd accept if anyone else asked you. if izuku or todoroki had been facing this situation instead of him.

"'suki?" you patted the side of your bed next to you, "sit with me."

he sighed, the thoughts disappearing from his mind at your words. he really was whipped for you.

"yeah, yeah. i'm goin'" he sat beside you, oddly stiffer than normal. he held his own hands as he waited for you to say something.

"okay, so, we should have like-- a plan or something right?"

"a plan? what the fuck for?"

"like so we don't get caught faking this or whatever. if they find out your fans will just come back running, no?"

he shuddered at the thought. "yeah, don't wanna deal with that shit."

"right? so the first part of our plan, is that everyone has to think we're dating. cool?"

katsuki's mind was racing. cool? more like the best thing that would happen to him. he felt as if everyone knew of his crush on you.. except for you.

being to say he was all yours and that you were all his, even if it was a lie..

"yeah, it's cool."

"great, that's really the only thing we had to establish. we hang out a lot anyways so, we'll just have to be affectionate or something to seal the deal."

his heart jumped at the idea of hugging you, wrapping an arm around you, holding hands with you in public. the ghost of a smile came over him.

"right."

"cool. so nothing else matter--"

"we're starting your studying shit tomorrow. the next test is next week, so we don't have time to play around [name]."

"ughh. i wish you forgot about that." your head fell into your hands. "i hate math, what do i even need it for?"

"advanced math, nothing really. but estimates are important in hero work. estimating time, the abilities of your body, the amount of civilians, all that stuff."

"you're such a nerd."

"hah?"

he continued explaining the importance of math to you despite your grievances. his finger was pointed in the air, you swore you could see the need emoji popping over his face.

your eyes closed, the weight of the day, your grade, and the thought of studying alongside a nerd like katsuki tiring you to no avail. you yawned, laying your head on his shoulder.

you could hear the thumping of his heart, the racing of his blood in his veins. it rocked you to sleep, "wake me up later, m' a take a nap." you mumbled against his shoulder, before falling asleep.

his mouth shut, eyes peeled on your body that now clung to his side. his face grew hot, when did it get so hot in your damn room?

he tried his best to stay awake, to let you nap and wake you up in the morning. but as the clock hit eight o clock, the time he was supposed to head back to his dorm.. he found himself stuck in place.

not by an invisible force, not by some obligation. it was only the thought of wanting to be with you, next to you. wanting to let the comfort of your weight next to him drive himself to sleep.

so he did. he fell asleep, letting his head lay on top of yours, holding your body closer to his. shutting his eyes.

the light of the sun woke him up first, you didn't close your blinds yesterday, and the sun shined brightly,

directly into his face. he groaned, his voice deep from sleep as he peeled himself off of you. he was confused from fatigue, wondering why he was still in your room.

he felt an arm around his waist, he rubbed the sleep out of his eyes to see it was you who was holding him close. he thinks you were using him in place of your huge teddy bear, the one laid neatly in the corner of your bed.

his heart rate quickened once again, wanting to go back to his room, but fighting the urge to stay looking at you.

an absentminded hand moved a couple strands of your hair out your face, pinching your cheek when he got bold.

you don't wake up, he sighed a breath of relief. 'til he felt your body start to stir, you pushed your head more into his chest, your eyes finally starting to open slightly.

"oh? g'morning kat'." you were sleepy, your words slightly slurred and muffled from how you were pressed against him.

"you slept here?" you asked, pulling away from him as you moved to stretch your upper body.

"uh-- yeah." he was once again lost for words at the sight of you, your shirt slightly pulled up from how you'd slept, your hair messy from the lack of a protective style before sleep.

"sorry for waking you up then, 'suki."

"no, i was already up. i just didn't wanna wake you."

"well, you failed." you joked. "anyways, you should get out of here soon, if iida sees you he'll probably flip out and tell mr. aizawa."

"right."

"let's walk to class together!" you clasped his hands in yours. "okay?"

you were going to be the death of him once again. "okay."

you let go and he got up, ruffling his hair slightly and looking back at you who sent him a small smirk and wave. before slowly walking out your door. he did his best to keep his movements quiet and minimal.

he was at the elevator, before uraraka walked out. shit. "bakugo? what are you doing here?"

"uh.. got lost."

her face scrunched in confusion, a knowing smile on her face after a second. "right.. tell [name] good morning for me."

".. tell her yourself." he got into the elevator, already seeing the grin in uraraka's face as he went up a floor to his room.

the same grin everyone greeted him with as he went to sit next to you in the common room, having made you some breakfast. he and you were all ready, you had refreshed your hair from when he was playing with it, simple makeup and your uniform ironed. he admired you while he ate his meal.

"ah, thanks 'suki."

"mhm."

you moved to whisper in his ear, "why's everyone looking at us?"

"fuck if i know."

"so you two lovebirds aren't gonna say anything?" denki said, putting his hands on his hips as he looked you two over.

"'bout what?"

"that you two are totally dating!" mina exclaimed, pointing at you. "and you didn't say anything? wow [name], i thought.. we were closer than that." she mock fully cried.

katsuki was about to say something, you cut him off though. "i thought everyone knew?" with a tilt of your head, a question mark almost visible from the blank expression you wore.

the class only sighed, kirishima shrugged his shoulders. "yeah, we should've guessed. i mean bakugo had a obvious crush on you for the longest."

"yeah, good looks man." sero gave him a thumbs up.

"tch. let's go [name]." he sat up, placing his and your finished dishes in the sink before you followed behind him.

"right! bye guys!"

you grabbed his hand as you walked out the door. nobody was around, there was no need to keep up appearances now.

but that didn't stop him from holding your hand tighter.

and that didn't stop you from clinging even more to his side.

it seemed you two were now together all the time. a clingy couple is what you seemed like to your friends, and more importantly his fans.

at lunch he could now be in the cafeteria again, you were stuck his side as you ate, an arm around you as you shared his food, insisting his cooking was better than the U-A food.

you were caged in by his body, you really did just look like a sappy couple to everyone.

during class, he was caught glancing at you. a lot. he'd roll his eyes and pretend nothing even happened, but everyone knew he was far gone.

during training, as you sparred you noticed he was going harder on you than before. some would think that because you were his crush he wouldn't get so aggressive,

too bad katsuki only wanted to push you harder, get you to show the strength he saw you unleash on those villains in the war. he wanted you to be stronger beside him, if he was number one, he'd want you to be ranked closely to him, because he knew you were strong enough.

that didn't mean it wasn't any more hard to fight him, the man was a maniac.

"you can chill out you know!"

"what? can't take it?!"

"no, slow your fucking roll!" you barely dodged his other attack, just barely moving out the way as he threw an explosion in your direction.

you now had met the conditions to use your quirk, comeback. by generating a max of 8 orbs, they'd absorb energy that you could use back for your offense. the only downside?

melee attacks couldn't be absorbed at all.

a kick to your legs sent you to the ground, you dispersed one of your orbs with the explosion stored inside of it.

"be nice and let me win!!"

"no."

he dodged your attack and pinned you to the ground. he won.

"you're so mean 'suki." you shoved him off you, making him grunt. "a good boyfriend would've let me win!"

a nagging voice in the back of his head was telling him he wasn't yours, you weren't his, and that he was only doing this for his convinience.

"well, i guess i'll be a better one next time."

even that voice couldn't deny that the way he cared for you wasn't anything less than real. that even if this relationship was fake, that he was undoubtedly yours. that the way he held his hand out to you, lifting you as gently as he could fathom.

"wanna go again?" he asked, a boyish smirk on his face.

"you know it!"

your plan of tiring katsuki out with exercise didn't work, so you found yourself in his room at his desk. showered and wiping the dew off your neck with a towel, you sat in front of him with a book splayed open.

he was hammering topic after topic into you.. statistics or something? you weren't really paying attention, you were more interested in the bulge of his muscles out of his tank top.

his words were a blur when you suddenly found yourself reaching a hand out to feel his muscle,

your hand squeezing it.

'firm. hm.' you thought, until he pulled you away, an incredulous look on his face. "this is why your class ranking keeps falling [name]. focus!"

"how can i focus with you in front of me? it's like dancing a donut in front of a cop!" you whined, face planted onto his desk.

"you're.. insane."

"you love me though, don't you?" the words slipped out of your lips without a second thought, your face flushing slightly. "oops, sorry! almost forgot you arent my like-- real boyfriend!"

he swore he heard a bit of disappointment in your voice, felt a bit of reluctance in your movements as you pulled away at him, saw a bit of longing in your eyes.

"uh.. yeah. 's fine. let's just.. take a break." he said, motioning over to lay on his bed and do nothing for a little while.

if you would've told him a couple months ago that he'd be sat, face to face, body next to body, hands awkwardly close to each other as you remained in silence. you'd had a movie on in the background, something stupid he thought. not like he payed attention to it at all.

it was comfortable, being around you. he'd be a liar if he said that he didn't like the fact that everyone now thought you were his and vice versa. not just his fans, not just yours, but your mutual friends. family.

"do you wanna try again?" he asked after a while, voice soft and his hand moving to rub his eyes. it was his bedtime, eight o clock sharp, but he'd break it for you.

"hm? to be honest no." you moved to face him. "you look tired anyways 'suki, you should sleep."

he grumbled, his eyes closing slightly as he slowly swatted your hand away from his face, his grip lingering on your wrist.

"right." he yawned. he didn't know if it was the sleep or impulse, maybe a mixture of both. but he pulled you closer to him. making you crash against his chest with his head in the nook of your neck.

"stay." he uttered, his breath flush against your neck making the hairs stand up.

"katsuki?" you thought you were dreaming. you'd move to pinch yourself if you weren't being pinned down by him.

"please?"

"..okay." your words barely matched your actions. you cuddled more into him, pulling him impossibly closer as you melted into eachother.

a blanket was thrown over the two of you. you fell asleep in his arms, the beating of his heart matching yours as you breathed a sigh of realization.

you were horribly in love with katsuki bakugo. and he was with you.

your 'fake' activities as a couple were coming along a little bit too easily to the two of you.

feeding him a snack in his room as a joke, him finding out he kind of liked being babied, him blackmailing you so you shut up.

all couple things. normal couple activity.

you didn't even have to continue those things behind closed doors, but it just came so naturally. it seemed wrong not to do it.

it seemed wrong for him not to sling a hand over you, not to hold your hand when it was so close to him, not to move the stray strands of hair and tuck it behind your ear.

it seemed wrong for him not to save a spot for you at lunch, not to wake up a bit earlier and slip out of your sleepy grasp to prepare you a meal alongside his.

not to make some breakfast for you, light or heavy, depending on what he'd learned you preferred.

not to walk with you to class, even walking with you to go see your general studies friend in the morning, leaning against the doorway with a smile on his face as he watched you rave on about a show you'd watched recently.

why wouldn't he do it if he could? why shouldn't he watch your favorite shows just to have things to talk to you about?

he found himself fighting to stay focused during your study sessions now too. he found himself noticing things about you, the smaller things.

how you'd flip your hello kitty pencil around while you were speaking. how you'd bite your lips in concentration, your expressions of disbelief when you actually started getting things correct.

he'd have to cover his hand with his face. you were just too cute.

sometimes he'd even get distracted mid sentence. he was explaining simple things over again, just to make sure you knew what it meant.

but it was hard even keeping eye contact with you.

"so, in this problem x would be.. uh.." he went silent, his mouth open but no words escaping.

"x would be what? 7?" you showed your page of work to him, with a nervous smile. "if it's not right tell me already! i know im kinda dumb, it won't hurt my feelings too bad i swear!"

he looked down back at his page. mentally slamming his head onto the table, before recovering. "yeah, no you're right. you got it."

you slammed the work onto his desk, "finally! then we can break now right?"

"yeah, 'guess so."

"let's do something fun. take a walk, my legs hurt from sitting." you pulled him up by his hand, dragging him to his door. "hurry up!"

he couldn't help the small chuckle that escaped him, you really reminded him of just how young you two were. how he was just a high schooler with a huge crush, how--

"why are you looking at me like that? are you sick?" you placed a hand on his forehead, making him promptly rip it off. a scowl quickly replaced the smile that been on his face moments prior. "no i'm not. let's go."

you walked hand in hand, the sunset the background for your 'date'.

the last few days, he'd been nervous to bring up what was happening between you. he was nervous to ruin the odd relationship you two had, he didn't want to lose you. he thought the things you two had been doing crossed the line between friendship and lovers.

you didn't have to do any of this. though he was sure you knew that already.

"math exam's tomorrow."

"don't remind me! you totally ruined the moment you know."

"you'll pass. i mean, i was your tutor after all. if you fail with me as a teacher? you are a lost cause."

"that's not nice to say." you ripped his hand away from yours, crossing your arms on your chest. "thats really messed up 'suki."

he leant down to face you, the sun goldening you two in its wake as he grew a cocky smirk on his lips. "oh really?"

"yes really."

"n' what're you gonna do about it?" his face was barely an inch away from yours. with a glance to his lips, he moved closer.

he barely pecked you, before he heard a loud, obnoxious idiot speak from behind him.

"[name] and bakugo are totally making out over here!"

denki and kirishima were looking at the two of you, a glare crossed over katsuki's face as he basically dragged you with him back into his dorm. he was about to leave you at your dorm, the hallway empty since curfew was around the corner.

he held your hands in his, running his thumb over the knuckle of yours. he intertwined your fingers, only letting go after a while.

he tilted your head upwards with his two fingers, wordlessly asking for permission. moonlight now struck you two as he moved in.

uninterruptedly, he kissed you. deepening it with a pull of the hand, holding you against him.

he let go after a while, his internal clock signaling it was almost time for curfew.

before he left, he whispered to you. "i don't.. really care what we're labeled. and if this shit is real or not.

i just want to be close to you."

he turned, walking to the elevator. leaving your breathless, with your heart in your throat.

no more words were spoken between you two, not as you screamed into your pillow, and not as he stared up into the ceiling of his room.

you passed that math test. and each assignment that went with it.

the end of the year was now coming quickly, of the school year that is. you and katsuki still kept up your 'act', the activities now stretching to dates after school mixed in with your study sessions.

one's that'd leave the touch of katsuki on you more than the touch of knowledge. but it was working nonetheless.

it was all good between you two, an eternal honeymoon it seemed. after all, by now it had been at least seven months since this began. your class ranking was higher, he no longer had to worry about strolling through the halls, it seemed nothing could get in your way.

well, besides two things.

one: the fact that you two were scared to label in between yourselves yet, too bashful to call him your boyfriend and you his girlfriend in private, yet proud fully admitting it to others.

two, the girl currently straddling him with no regard to you whatsoever. your entire cafeteria table was staring at her, looking at what katsuki would do to move her off.

but when he didn't immediately, didn't immediately curse the girl out and push her off him? you did the job for him.

you yanked the girl by her hair, sending her to the floor with a tray of food falling onto her body. all attention was on you as you stared at katsuki, your mouth agape in anger.

"what the fuck bakugo?" you ignored her, even stepping on her leg slightly as your hands were agitated, your whole body was. you didn't even know why you were jealous. this wasn't real, it never was, he was just playing his role too well.

you should've known katsuki would go too far. he always did.

"babe-- it's not what you think-"

"then what was i looking at? and don't call me that. don't- don't fucking call me anything. we're over."

you knew to him that probably meant something different. you acclaimed the despair in his eyes to the loss of protection, to the loss of ease as he walked in the halls and the lack of paparazzi that'd ask him questions on his love life.

but to him it was so much more.

it was those things, yes. but it was more so the thought of losing you. the thought of the affection over the months being nothing but a memory and not his future. the thought of not having you close to him.

the thoughts of becoming nothing to you, less than a friend.

he didn't know why he didn't move, it was like he physically couldn't. the look in the girl's eyes, the grip she had on him, the weird smile. he recognized her as one of the girls who usually would be in the crowd following him around.

"you don't mean that." his voice sounded more desperate than it had in the whole time he'd met you, more longing slipping through than he intentioned.

but the sun's casting light had moved away from you, casting you in a shadow. "i do mean it. fuck you."

he was going to run after you, to chase you as you slammed your lunch tray into the trash. heading up to the rooftop to he alone.

but a hand, mina's, pulled him back. "i think.. you did enough bakugo."

she went after you instead, promising to bakugo she'd check on you.

fangirls were one thing? but a messy public breakup where you were never really something in the first place? surprisingly worse.

he'd been more snappy lately, his aura making the girls around him keep their distance.

he'd become quieter, closed off. you didn't come to eat lunch with him anymore, obviously. and he didn't go up to the rooftop to join you.

he didn't know how to speak to you, how to explain what happened, how to say that he was sorry.

he ran the scenario in his head a million times, thinking over the girl's quirk that had forced him into place. but it sounded so convenient, like he was lying.

but since your entire relationship was based off of one, he didn't know how to approach the topic in the first place.

a week. a week passed before he could muster up the words to speak to you.

a week of being ignored in the hallways, side glances and being walked off on. a week of not having you by his side, not having you to talk to, to study with,

to kiss.

you were alone on the rooftop, eating silently as you felt a presence behind you. you saw his hair in the shadow and sighed, placing your plate onto the floor next to you. "what?"

"let me talk."

"...fine."

he breathed a sigh, hands balling as he forced the words out. "i know what you saw. and i know it was bad, but listen. that.. girl. she had some quirk on me or something."

he paused, seeing as your movement shifted. he took the fact that you didn't leave as a sign to continue.

"i couldn't move, i would've. you know that. but, it was right for you to be fucking pissed. i'd be too.

and i know, this is my fault in a way. i've been.. a fuckin' loser about this." his hand went up to support his head, his eyes averting from where he felt yours eyeing him.

"i needed to ask you out, officially i mean, a long time ago. it was wrong of me to use you-"

"it wasn't like that and you know it." you moved now to face him, you taking his hands in yours once more.

"what are we? to you i mean."

"right now..

we're nothing, right?"

your eyes widened, his eyes came back to look at yours.

"what?"

the words settled between you, it sent a cold shiver down your spine at the implication.

"wait-- fuck i'm messing this shit up. i mean, we're, not anything right now. we weren't anything."

your heart sank, eyes falling to the floor though your hand still held by him. your bleeding heart was in his grasp too, it was apparent.

"but,

i'd like to be? if you'd have me."

he squeezed your hand tightly. "i, i think i did this all out of order. but, would you go out with me?"

you let out an anxious laugh mixed with emotion. relief? despair? you honestly didn't know. tears burned the corners of your eyes.

"you're-- you're real weird, you know that?"

"is that a no."

"no, it's a yes. i think."

"ya think?"

"you don't get to question me!"

"yeah, whatever." you shared a laugh of relief together. he held you, moving away to bring something out of his pocket.

a small bento box for you.

you gasped at the sight of it, it was so cute. "thank god! i hate this school shit." you sat down, patting the side beside you, prompting him to sit down.

"wow, a heart? don't tell me you like me or something katsuki."

instead of deflecting, of telling you to buzz off, of shoving you lightly, a small smile came over his lips once again. after a beat, he laughed boyishly.

"you caught me."

...

he patted your back as you choked on the heart shaped seaweed.

your first date was cute, a small picnic with the country of musatafu as your backdrop. it was weird, this scene had played out between you two various times. in his room, in public, in private, to everyone else you two had just recovered from a messy breakup. and yet,

your stomachs were filled with butterflies at the affection between you two.

your rank was high, the dates were endless between the two of you now. study dates, just going to cafes, mundane things became more when you were by each others side.

years passed, and your poor dorm was going mostly unused. you'd sleep in his bed most of the time, actually- you'd spent most of your time in his room. he even cleared out a section for you in his closet despite the fact that yours was perfectly fine.

graduation came along, your careers came rushing at the two of you.

you were the top rated woman hero, and he was number one. just like he dreamt, just like he imagined the future would be for the two of you all those years ago.

you were picking out some drinks from the vending machine, a pocky hanging out your mouth as you decided between two flavors.

you finally chose, having two drinks in your hand for you and katsuki when he suddenly dragged you into an alleyway, grunting when he pushed you against the wall.

deja vu? maybe, you felt like you lived through this before, the same mindless stampede of girls rushing past.

"i told you to clip down your hair."

"shut up. don't they even care that we're married now? why do they fucking bother?." he sighed, annoyed as he lightly grabbed the can out your hand, his frustration not matching his actions.

"well, maybe we need something that'd make it even more official." a lightbulb went over the both of your heads. you faced each other, a streetlight letting you see the slight pink tint of his cheeks.

"a ca-"

"a baby."

you laughed, keeling over at the sight of his face that grew impossibly red.

you went home, hand in hand, the photos of the two of you together making rounds in the media again.

but as you laid with his head laid on your lap, your head rested comfortably against the furniture you'd chosen for your home?

you couldn't help but feel like everything worked out perfectly.

and with the new addition of your family laid sleeping on top of katsuki's chest.

tags (can't tag orange :c): @k0z3me @darhinadadragon @maddietries @amayaaaxx @i-the-fluffo @irenne-stans @hisonlyobsession @dead-fish-soup @pretty-sparkle-bomb @matchat3a @yura-4life @djlance-rock @zuzukusna @hiimsaraandyou @uy242c

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[alchemistc]

Tommy ignores the knock at his door. He's in day three pajamas and the only person who might make the effort to check in on him is his exes best friend. Which.

The knocking continues.

It's getting louder.

There's a Kings game on in the background and he's been elbow deep in the Jeep manual he'd finally cracked open in some sort of weird, fucked up pattern of mourning.

Tommy's never gonna buy a fucking Jeep. He hates them. You own one for more than five years and more than half the parts are replacement parts.

He's been staring at a diagram of the timing belt for half an hour, at least. The last thing he remembers about the game is Kuemper letting in three goals on five shots and somehow the Kings are up two, now, and there's still 25 minutes of game time left.

Tommy reaches for the remote. Turns the volume up.

The knocking returns less than a minute later.

---

There's a box of odds and ends tucked under the table in his entryway. He avoids looking at it. He knows there are a few things missing from it and he really doesn't want to examine what he'll have to do to avoid giving it to Eddie tonight. He cut the cords, he shouldn't be lingering watching the frayed edges sway in the wind, clutching his line like there's anything braced on the other side of it.

Evan's oldest, softest LAFD hoodie, the one that's technically too small for both of them but has stretched shockingly evenly and is definitely not sitting unwashed at the bottom of Tommy's laundry basket. The program from a recital of Denny's they'd stopped by to support him for, on their way out of town for a long weekend. Evan's stupid keto bread and the milk frother he'd left behind three months ago and never bothered to grab because he had more than one.

Whoever is at his door is still fucking knocking, and suddenly Tommy doesn't feel like being polite. He'll shove the box in Eddie's arms and tell him to fuck off and close the last few remaining open doors he has to this.

Only when he swings the door wide it's not Eddie on the other side, and the box nearly takes out whatever Evan - Buck, Jesus Christ - has in his own arms.

Not a Tommy box - too small for all the shit that he'd left behind. He misses the house slippers that had had a permanent spot tucked under the left side of the bed.

Tommy flinches, reels away, tries to shove the box away before Buck can see its contents.

"What are you doing here?" Even tone. No quiver in his voice. He's been called rude and dismissive for less.

Buck scowls. Hefts the rectangular dish in his hands and shoves past Tommy before Tommy can blink.

It's silly to say he chases after him, down the hallway towards the kitchen, but he's not exactly following along behind at a casual leisurely pace.

The glass pan slams down on his kitchen counter and Buck spends a minute staring at the calendar he was only getting two months out of because he couldn't look at the one with all Buck's notes penned in anymore.

"Wow," Buck says, and shifts his weight awkwardly.

"What are you -?"

"Jee and I made you birthday cupcakes," Buck says. His voice is hard. Angry. Hurt. "Happy birthday, asshole."

---

He cracks the lid and there are only three cupcakes inside. Tommy forgets himself. Raises a brow, amusement rolling over him pleasantly, prepared to tease him, but then he catches the set of Buck's legs and the curl of his mouth and the tight way his arm tucks itself back in against his belly, a protective gesture that reminds Tommy very effectively what this is.

"Why?" Tommy wonders aloud, and Evan's scowl deepens.

Buck's scowl.

God.

"We've been planning it for weeks." Something flashes across his eyes before he schools his features. "Jee made me promise to bring you some."

"She must not be a skilled baker," Tommy jokes. "If these are the only ones that made it."

Evan's expression twists. "I ate most of them."

The frosting looks fresh. No creases in the paper cup holding them together.

"I had to make a new batch of frosting because I used some of it for -." He cuts himself off. Looks like he'd like to throw it in Tommy's face but can't quite force himself to hurt Tommy.

It hurts as much as he'd expected, anyway.

The world is a small place. It's not the first time he's had to speak to an ex when he didn't want to. It's never pleasant.

This is worse. The cut and run is supposed to give him time.

Evan Buckley has been an ache behind his ribcage for months, now, long before he'd made that final decision. He'd known it was too little too late. Buck's gonna be the shadow other men see behind his eyes for years.

Buck's apparently found and slept with someone within the week and a half span from Tommy walking out to his sad shitty mopey birthday.

That he'd forgotten about.

Tommy leans in. Picks up a cupcake. Licks a stripe through the frosting and makes a face when he realizes it's buttercream.

"The ones you were supposed to get had the whipped cream one you like," Buck says, accusingly.

That somehow stings just a little bit extra.

Tommy pulls back the paper, takes a bite. There's raspberry filling inside, and Tommy can feel tears prickling at the edges of his eyes, because when he'd told Evan about how his grandma baked he'd been thinking of Evan being a grandparent, the kind of shit he'd forbidden himself from imagining with anyone he was dating years ago.

"Thank you," he manages, and Buck frowns.

"He thought the whipped cream was too sweet." And Tommy probably deserves this but he's not particularly in the mood.

"Cut it out, Buck."

Buck rolls his jaw. "I just figured you'd wanna know how it's going. Maybe I could tally up the hookups for you, count them all up by gender and stamina and opinions on how I should feel and act and fall for someone. Find out if I'm actually gay enough to be a man's last."

---

The rest of the cupcake kind of collapses and oozes as Tommy smacks it down on the counter. He takes thirty seconds to pull the other two cupcakes out before he's grabbing the too-large fake Pyrex and turning heel. The keto bread goes in the pan. Then the milk frother.

Tommy yanks the recital program off the fridge and tosses it in the trash.

Buck almost looks triumphant.

"The box under the side table has the rest. You can see yourself out."

He actually does exactly as he's told, and Tommy listens to his footsteps drift off, shoulders hunched in and the breath tight in his throat. He'd been cruel, it was only fair Buck got a few final kicks in.

Tommy sucks in a breath and blinks away the moisture at the edges of his vision.

The footsteps take a heel turn at the side table and turn right back around.

"This isn't everything."

Tommy half expects some panned comment about how Tommy's got his heart - the kind of silly shit he'd say to a dead outlaw.

"My sweatshirt," Buck says, and Tommy freezes.

He could lie. He could pretend he had no idea where it was. Claim he didn't remember it even being here, because that particular piece of clothing did have a tendency to travel.

He doesn't fucking want to hand that one over.

Buck smirks, like he's caught the crack, and is looking for ways to exploit it.

"I own my own house!" Tommy says, and it's a terrible launching point but Buck latches on.

"You just left, Tommy! I know I jumped the gun, Tommy, but you didn't even - you just left! I'm sorry, okay. I'm sorry I didn't know I was into men until you. I'm sorry you had to be my first, I'm sure that must have been such a burden for you."

"That's not fair."

"You didn't even give me a chance. That was - I'm so angry with you, Tommy. I'm so fucking mad."

"I know."

"But that's what you planned for, right? That's - you ripped the bandaid, Tommy, except there's a whole fucking untreated stab wound right underneath and it's still bleeding, Tommy."

"Did you even make this round of cupcakes with your niece?" It's better to keep his family's names out of his mouth. Just keep those ties cut.

Buck looks livid. "No, you idiot, I whipped up a tiny batch of this recipe just for the excuse to see you and - and tell you what a stupid, awful coward you are."

"That's not f-." He isn't sure whether Buck is being facetious about the small batch thing or not. He doesn't have any time to think about it.

"My sister and Chim are having another baby. Bobby and Athena are probably gonna host Christmas this year. Eddie shaved off the mustache and he's, like, dancing now, I guess. Hen and Karen are good for the first time in -." He shakes his head. Stares at Tommy. Tommy can't quite hide from that gaze. "We were good, Tommy. We were - you loved me."

He'd never said the words. Neither had Evan, but they'd both known. Both felt it. Tommy let it go too far, did it scared for longer than he usually would.

"It's not like that just went away when I walked out, Evan," Tommy hisses, and then regrets it immediately.

Evan has spent most of this visit pushing, pressing, digging fingers into the wound to make it hurt.

Evan goes silent now, reeling back a little. He seems shocked that Tommy had admitted it.

"I want you to go," Tommy says. "I need you to go, Buck."

It was the right dagger the first time, but apparently it's only effective once.

"I love you too, you know." His voice is soft. Tommy can't meet his eye. "And I hate you. I hate you even though I know that's what you wanted but I love you too much to not hate you out of spite."

Tommy knows if he caves it's done. He's signing himself over to whatever fucked thing will end them a week, a month, five years, two decades from now.

"Go home, Buck. Hate me there."

---

He goes in for the kill.

"I called Abby, two nights ago."

Right for the jugular. No survivors.

"She laughed for like twenty minutes, and then she tried to get me to chat about our sex life for comparison, and then she was shocked silent for a full minute when I wouldn't." Because Evan had always been a little too open about those details. "She also told me she forgave you but she doesn't think you ever forgave yourself."

Tommy agrees. For all that they'd been terrible for each other, they'd known how the hell to take care of one another like no one's business.

"I want you to go," Tommy says, steady, quiet, nearly a snark for how deep his voice goes to hide the tremor in it.

Buck cocks a hip against the doorframe. "I want my sweatshirt."

The breath that escapes him is shaky, but her think he hides most of it behind the hand over his face, the finger pinched at the bridge of his nose.

"I can't do this."

"Exactly how many men and women do I have to fuck before you believe the future I'm looking at is with you?"

"All of them! None! It was a stupid thing to say and it's not what I meant and I can't do this."

Buck spins on his heel. Grabs the box he'd set aside and hefts it up into his arms. "I'm coming back for my sweatshirt," he says. "You let me know whether you want to talk about the data points of the sexuality spreadsheet or about us."

"There is no us, Buck." His voice sounds defeated even to himself.

"If that was true you'd just give me the stupid sweater and be done."

Tommy sits in silence. He does not get up to retrieve the hoodie. Buck is still angry, but his smile is wide and bashful.

Tommy listens to his footsteps trail down the hall, towards the door, out of it. He hears the Jeep's ignition catch, the wheels roll off the drive.

He realizes he'd left the goddamn Jeep manual open on the timing belt page, right there on his side table where he'd pointed out the things he wanted Evan to take to clear him from his life.

---

There is someone knocking at his door.

Tommy doesn't quite ignore it.

He hid the sweatshirt in one of his toolbox drawers when Evan texted him this morning to let him know he'd be over with a six pack and a pot of chili.

There's a zero percent chance Evan's getting that sweatshirt back, tonight.

[jinxthequeergirl]

The Ol switcharoo (pt3)

Stan pines x reader/ ford pines x reader

Summary: 30 years pass and you meet stanfords family.

Warning: NONE

Sorry for another short chapter. Consider this a filler episode. Chapter four should be better.

~~~~~~~~☆~~~~~~

30 years is a long time.

You can do a lot in that time.

You can live a lot of different lives in 30 years.

You started cutting your hair in that time, Stanford taught you to box, You'd gone on many different adventures. Most of which you often questioned the legality of, but they still made you laugh.

Now you mainly tended to the Mystery shack no more adventures, you wondered as you sat on the couch next to Stanford when you'd gotten so old. And when your life had changed so much.

You had almost forgotten all about anything before your family vacation. you and Stanford had grown into a pretty comfortable life together. You wouldn't lie you'd come to love the life you've grown into with him.

But you've also missed the adventures you used to go on, finding monsters , exploring the unknown.

But you were only met with gluing eyeballs to pieces of plastic halloween decorations and making up stories to make out of towns folk get a good laugh in.

You had tried to find Stanfords journals just to "relive the glory days" but with no luck.

You were never sure what happened to them, if he had accidentally tossed them out, if he had lost them himself or if that was part of what happened while you where away. Either way you stopped looking. You never asked about them either.

Stanford seemed to really enjoy his life with you too, you never got the idea he wanted to turn back or like he was waiting for some big adventure.

"This may sound corny but you and the mystery shack are my big adventure...I wouldn't trade you or the old shack for anything y/n. Not. For. ANYTHING."

So you stopped worrying yourself with the journals or the old research, let alone the real monsters that lurked in the woods.

You hunkered down, sold stories and bumper stickers in your matching suits and watched night time television before falling asleep on top of eachother every night.

This was the routine you'd fallen into. You found it odd if you had to sleep without Stanfords shoulder as your pillow or his jolt of laughter before he realized you fell asleep. It was odd for both of you to not debate who got giftshop duity over tour duties. (You always got gift shop.)

It was odd when a pair of twins arrived on your front lawn.

"You never talk about your family." You said following Stanford down the stairs to meet them. "Sure I do." He said clearly a little nervous.

"Mmm no...I didn't know you had a sister! Let alone great neices and nephews!..excuse us, Soos." You say almost chasing him through the gift shop almost knocking soos over.

He paused as both of you looked out the little door window at them. "Listen...I'm sorry I didn't tell you about my family... to be fair... we aren't really close..but somethings came up and-" You could see his stress building up as he tried to piece together something that made you understand how important it was to make a good impression on those kids.

You placed a hand on his shoulder. "I'm here with you... you can explain it all later, but right now, I'm right by your side, like always." He smiled and placed a hand on top of yours.

Before heading outside to me, you are in tow.

"I DIDN'T KNOW I HAD A GREAT AUNT! A GRANT!? A GRRR...GRAUNT!?" The girl in the pair shouted excitedly after stan had introduced you to them.

"That's cause you don't. We aren't married y/ns a friend."

You laughed at the girl who energetically and enthusiastically introduced herself as Mable. The introduction was followed by several need to know now questions, all of which would later be scribbled onto a paper for you to fill out and return to her.

☆what's your favorite color

☆ do you like my grunkle stan?

☆if you were a magical creature, what would you be? Why? WHAT WOULD I BE? why?

☆do you LOOOOVEEE grunkle stan?

☆opinion on stickers?

"Alright, you two leys get you up to your room for the summer." Stan said, pulling Mable away from you and grabbing her bags.

You grabbed the second set of bags and followed stan and the two kids.

"Dipper, right?" You asked the boy who fell in line with you "oh yea! Yep that's me!" He laughed nervously.

"Very cool name,I like your hat by the way." You prayed you didn't seem like you were trying too hard to get them to like you.

"So you and grunkle stan run this place?" Dipper asked, looking at all your hot glue collages as Stanford decided to give them the grand tour before their room.

"Yup." You nodded.

"What's the point? Isn't this all fake? I mean... I can see the string on the invisible man's glasses." He said pointing out the attraction as you passed.

"Oh c'mon Dipper, how could you not love the jackalope!? Is he a deer? Is he a rabbit? I can't tell!" Mable said, carrying the creature in her arms like a teddy bear.

"I just don't get it? Why lie to people when I'm sure there has to be something real out there!"

You smiled at him. He sounded like you when you were a kid...he sounded more like Stanford before the shack. "You like the supernatural?" You asked.

"Oh yea, dippers a huge nerd he loves all that junk!" Mable said punching her brother in the shoulder.

"Oh, here we go! Don't get this one started on mystery and supernatural boogie men!" Stanford said, stopping to join your conversation.

"Y/n used to be big on hunting and looking for stuff like this." He said, wrapping his arm around you. "Used too...I haven't in over 30 years...it got too complicated." You opted to give them a simple answer as to why you stopped.

"Really!? That's so cool!" Dipper exclaimed. "If you ever need someone to go on adventures with, you can trust me."

Over the upcoming weeks, it was slightly rocky with the kids getting settled in, but eventually, they started warming up to the shack as well as yourself and Stanford.

You were quite pleased to have their company, actually. You felt something change in your everyday lives when they entered the shack.

"Depending on who you ask." You said continuing your story as you placed plates in front of the kids. "Your grunkle and I are married." The kids gasped. "Only through some silly machine in Vegas it wasn't real there was this one time -"

Stan chuckled to himself as you told the story of your fake marriage in Vegas as he watched the three of you laugh in the kitchen.

He smiled. Watching you frantically move your arms to further dramatice the story, a certain shine he'd noticed had been missing from your eyes for a few years now. You had it when he'd met you.

The same day, he knew things would be different for him. They HAD been different. You accepted him for everything he was. You went along with his crazy shenanigans. You gave up a whole life for him.

He remembered the birthday parties you had thrown for him. Even if you were the only person to be there for him.

He knew after a few years of you doing so that you would always be the only one there. He had the strangest feeling the night of his 35 birthday when he realized this.

He lied awake in bed, staring at the ceiling when it occurred to him what the feeling was.

"Oh no."

He quietly snuck away from you and the kids, still hearing your laughter erupt through the house behind him. He made his way into the darkened gift shop and punched a code into the vending machine, and went down to the basement he swore to you he'd destroyed.

30 years, and all he had offered you was lies. After all you'd done for him after all the care you'd shown him after all you had sacrificed. He just wanted you to have a normal life. A good life.

Not something he had fabricated.

He spent most of his time thinking about the large machine that still sat in his basement, the other half worrying about you. If he was giving a good life if he was soing as good a job being in your life as you had done for him.

He worried about what might happen when, IF he was able to pull of bringing his brother back.

How would you react to being lied to for 30 years. Maybe you did really feel the same way he had felt about you for years and you would forgive him.

In order for that to work, he'd have to actually admit his feelings to you.

He wanted to, he also wanted do a lot more for you in the 30 years you'd been together but always failed before he could make a move or do anything really. He pushed aside a notepad filled with ideas of kind gestures he could do for you (most of which were crossed out) and replaced the space with the journal Ford had left him.

He would get it right.

All of it.

Eventually.

Then again.

He could always ask Mable.

While you laughed with two kids at a dinner table and Stanley beat himself up about lying and tried to rebuild his life.

The real Stanford pines sat out there amongst the stars with nothing but a creased photo of the two of you and wondered why it was taking you so long to find him.

~~~~~~~☆~~~~~

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[puella-peanut]

akdjskadjkasd I totally was not expecting some delicious Silverusso artwork when I woke up today, but akjaskjdhawda!! Thank you so much @kovajean

Check out their A03 if you want something good to read! And here's Damage if you wanna read it!

Art inspired by @puella-peanut ‘s “Damage”. Also an excuse to draw them again because it’s been a while ⏰

[zvdvdlvr]

Could you please write an imagine based on the episode where Greg House gives a lecture about the three cases and he's one of them (where we first see Stacy).

Reader is one of the students there, gives the correct answers, therefore grabs his attention and he offers a job and they end up dating

Thanks in advance!

chasing you ✩ gregory house

“What color is your pee?”

You watched House interrogate one of the few students that had been giving input on his three stories.

“Yellow,” she replied with a sharp tone.

“And what color is your blood?”

“Red.”

House nodded. “Yes. And what colors did I use to make this tea color?”

The female student stammers as she replies with “red, yellow, and brown.”

The man clicks his tongue. “And brown. How do we get the brown color?”

“Waste-“

“Thank means the kidneys are shutting down,” House cut in. “Why?”

“Could be damage done by the self injection. He has no history of trauma.

“Treatment?”

House’s rapidfire questions had rattled the woman, but she stiller answered. “Heat and rest-“

“Other possible causes?”

“Infection.”

House nodded. “Start him on antibiotics. What else?”

Silence filled the room. House looked around, expecting an answer. “Come on! What is it?”

“I-I don’t know,” the student admits. She looks away.

House sighs and walks down the steps. The paper with the tea color crumpled in his hand.

“You know, it’s hard to think with you in our faces,” starts the annoying student right up front.

“Yeah?” House scoffs. “You think it’s gonna be any easier with a real patient really dying?”

The guy looked down. Once again, silence reigned over the room as House prepared himself to speak. Until… you opened your mouth.

“The unknown factor would be muscle death.”

House looks up. Near the back of the auditorium by the window on the far left. A student House originally thought was uninterested. Sure, House had seen you around the hospital- practically every wide-eyed intern or student had met the witty man but he had never spoken to you.

Which was odd considering he took a little joy in making the interns and students squirm- especially the pretty ones. House was surprised he’d never even caught your name.

When House’s mouth opened and closed twice, you resumed carefully. “The dying muscle leaks myoglobin which is toxic to the kidneys. There’s your brown, Doctor.”

“Brilliant,” House murmured. He eyed you carefully as he went on. “MRI the leg. See what’s killing it.”

The Heath Ledger dupe spoke up again. “Why is the girl getting the MRI?”

“Because the neck skan revealed nothing and her doctor’s way more obsessive than she thinks she is.”

Heath tilted his head. “But you said the guy needed the MRI.”

“Because the mysteriously smart girl over there said muscle death. Not one of you came up with that. Not one of this guy’s doctors came up with it either,” he replied harshly. “They gave him bed rest and antibiotics- just like you guys would’ve.”

“Does he get better?” The female student from before asked.

House clicks his tongue. “No.”

“How long-“

“Three days.” He looks around the room, stalling when he made eye contact with you. “It is in the nature of medicine that you’re going to screw up. You are going to kill someone. If you can’t handle that reality, pick a new profession. Or finish medical school and teach.”

The female student from before spoke up. “It took three days for them to figure out about the muscle death?”

House shook his head. After heaving a sigh he answers “No, it took three days for the patient to suggest muscle death.”

“What caused the muscle pain?” You asked. “Was it- was it a clot?”

House nodded. “Don’t steal my thunder, young padawan. But… yes. A clotted aneurysm lead to an infarction in the patient’s leg.”

You nodded as House examined you intently as he went on. “After the surgery to remove the clot, the patient went in to wide complex tachycardia… The patient was technically dead for over a minute.”

“Do you think he was dead? Do you think those experiences were real?”

Every head in the room turned to the back. There stood James Wilson, leaning on the door. He looked knowingly at House, like he knew something everyone didn’t.

“Define real,” House shot back. “They were re experiences… What they meant- personally, I choose to believe that the white light people sometimes see, visions this patient saw… They’re all just chemical reactions that happen when the brain shuts down.”

“You ‘choose’ to believe that?” You ask curiously.

House’s eyes dart back over to you. “There’s no conclusive science. My choice has no practical relevance to my life,” he replies. As he starts to pace slowly around the front of the room, he proceeds. “I choose the outcome I find more comforting.”

“You find it comforting to believe that this is it?” Wilson asks accusingly.

House blinks. “I find it more comforting to believe that this isn’t simply a test.”

Everyone sat, listening closely to House’s every word. No other sounds could be heard despite House’s cane movement. He explained how, once the patient was put into a medically induced coma, his trusted proxy had made the decision to remove the dead muscle from his leg.

“Because of the extent of the muscle removed, the utility of the patient’s leg was severely compromised,” he told everyone slowly. “Because of the time delay in making the diagnosis, the patient continues to suffer chronic pain.” He tilted his head up to look at the crowd in front of him and then dropped his head to look at his hands.

“She had no right to do that,” piped up a different female student.

Heath Ledger look-alike scoffed. “She had the proxy.”

The woman argued back, “She knew he didn’t want the surgery!”

“Well, she saved his life,” Heath Ledger responded.

“We don’t know that,” the guy in the front row cut in. “Maybe he would’ve been fine.”

“Still, it’s the patient’s call!”

Heath Ledger shrugged. “Patient’s an idiot.”

“They usually are,” House agreed. “Do you have a buzzer? What time does this class end?”

This time, a mew voice answered House’s question. “20 minutes ago.”

For a moment, House looked at Cuddy with an unreadable expression. Then he clicked his tongue and stood up. “I’m not doing this again,” he informed Cuddy. “And this guy is not the world’s greatest dad- not even ranked. Who the hell let’s their kids play with lead based paint? That’s why he’s always sick. Find him some plastic cups and the class is all his again,” he told Cuddy, placing the yellow hand-painted mug in her hands. He started to walk out, but paused and hobbled back to point his cane directly at you. “Except you. Come with me.”

With haste, you gathered you books and writing utensils and shoved them into your bag. As you followed the limping man out of the classroom, you felt everyone’s eyes on you.

“I have a job for you if you want it,” House tell you finally, stopping in front of a door. “It’s tough, people lie to you every day, and we don’t even have decent coffee.”

You look from him to the door that reads ‘Gregory House M.D. - Head of Diagnostic Medicine’. “I have literally spoken to you three times. How do you know I won’t accept the job, wait until you trust me, and then steal all your money and leave?”

House paused. “Good question. Will you accept the job, wait until I trust you, and then steal all my money and leave?”

“Probably not,” you reply.

“Great!” House exclaims. “You’re hired.”

Over the course of the next few month, you had clicked immediately with Chase. You spoke passionately about different types of literature with Cameron, and joked with Foreman about anything and everything.

Your relationship with House was complicated to say the least. During your first official case, House insisted he followed you everywhere. You more than understood his hesitance to let you do tests completely on your own. But when he limped around, tracking you like a damn dog… you wondered why he still hadn’t trusted you enough.

To your fortune, Wilson had cornered you in the cafeteria as you were getting lunch. “We need to talk,” he had said before plopping down next to you.

You paused, looking up from your cafeteria spaghetti. “About what?”

“House.”

Your eyebrows furrowed. “Why?”

Wilson looked at you with an expectant expression. “Because I want to know what you said. Duh.”

“I think I’m missing something,” you told him. “What was I supposed to say to him? What was he supposed to say to me?”

Wilson dropped his silverware. “Are you serious? He didn’t- You don’t- What?”

“I’m lost here, Wilson,” you tell him.

Wilson looks around suspiciously before licking his lips. “So… you know how the medical gala is coming up?”

Nodding, you shove a forkful of noodles in your mouth. “Chase won’t shut up about seeing ‘all the hot babes in tight dresses’ or something,” you inform Wilson.

After guffawing over your imitation of Chase’s accent, he gets serious. “It’s in a week. Are you sure he hasn’t talked to you?”

You throw your hands up and sigh. “Just spit it out already, Wilson. I feel like a high schooler trying to get my friends tell me who they have a cute little crush on. Tell me or I’m gonna pop a blood vessel!”

Wilson looks away. “I can’t. I’m scared of House.”

With that, he picks up his tray and goes to leave.

“Bye bye, Willie!” You call.

James turns and glares at you before walking out of the room. You chuckle and attempt to finish your meal before your beeper will inevitably go off.

You just start chowing down on the garlic bread (read: bread with butter and garlic) when you hear the dreaded beeping. You bite off a large chunk of the bread and dump your tray before reading the ‘MY OFFICE- EMERGENCY’ that was from House.

When you finally pushed open the door, you saw House facing the window outside.

“Is our patient with the living?” You ask, taking a step towards House.

House doesn’t turn around. “I need you to go to the winter gala thing with me.”

You stiffen up. Throughout your whole body, your muscles tighten as your freeze midstep. Your face drains of blood and your heart feels like it just dropped into your stomach and was dissolved by the acid. Bile had just started rising up your esophagus when House turns.

“Don’t look so excited,” he insists sarcastically. “But seriously. Why are you looking at me like I have a tumor growing out of my eyeball?”

“No,” you mutter raspily. “Take Cameron.”

House’s eyebrows furrow as you turn on your heel and start to leave.

“Why won’t you go with me?”

You gnaw deeply at your lip as you turn. To your surprise, House was standing- watching you leave without his cane in his hand. “Go with Cameron,” you say again. “I don’t- I’m- No. Just no.”

“Y/n, why-“

You practically run out the door before Greg can even say your name. He stands by his desk, staring intently at the ground where you just stood. “Hm,” he hums. He sighs and thinks about what to say to you next.

The next three days consist of House trying and failing to speak to you. To his own surprise, you have completely stopped talking about personal matters with him and have withdrawn any of your own opinions except for facts having to do with the patient.

House had just finished off another bottle of pills when Foreman barged into the room. “What did you say?”

House blinks. “Uhh… to who? Where? When?”

“To y/n, House. What did you say to y/n?”

“I told her that I needed her to go to the winter gala with me,” House answered truthfully. “Why? Has she said anything to you?”

Foreman flops down in the chair facing House. “Do you like her?”

“Well, I hired her, didn’t I?”

“That’s not what I mean and you know it, House,” Foreman snaps. “Answer me. Do you like her?”

A moment of silence fills the air. House thinks back to the first time he interacted with you- how confidently you completely the puzzle that certified doctor’s couldn’t figure out. How you had matched House’s wit on your very first day. How you- despite being babysat- had completed every test and blood swab and every challenge House had put in your way. How your face often spoke before you did, how House unconsciously searched for you in a crowd, how House looked for your input after almost anything is said, how House wants your company.

“No,” he answers. “Yes. Maybe. Why?”

Foreman looks at House like he’s stupid. “Because she likes you! How have you not figured that out?!”

“Uh, maybe because of the fact that she seemed to want to projectile vomit all over me and then sprinted out of the room? Sorry, I was too focused on the horror in her eyes to consider the fact that y/n really wants that enemies to lovers trope in real life,” House rambled.

“She thinks you’re gonna make a fool out of her, House, and I think you are too,” Foreman answers. He stares at House, searching for information he won’t get. “But… you’re less abrasive when she’s around.”

“You’re acting like she’s your precious little baby sister about to be wed to an evil ogre in the woods,” Greg mutters.

Nodding, Foreman quirked his eyebrows. “I feel like I am.”

House looks at Foreman for a long moment. “Why did you come here to tell me this?”

Eric heaves out a sigh heavy enough to know down an elephant. “Because she wants you to mean it. Y/n wants you to want her. To show her that you want her.”

“I see.”

Foreman nodded. “Don’t tell her I conversed with the enemy.”

Greg scoffed. “As if she’d voluntarily talk to me.”

Eric’s face turned sympathetic. “Just talk to her. Show her this isn’t some whim to- I don’t know, win a bet against Cuddy. Show her you feel the same.”

It was the day of the gala when House found you testing a patient’s blood. You whispered lyrics to a song Greg didn’t know as he stealthily approached you.

“Y/n.”

Your breath caught in your throat in a weird choking noise as you leapt back. “Christ, House!”

“Sorry,” House said with a very unapologetic tone. “I want to talk to you.”

“About what?” You ask plainly, looking through the low power lens of the microscope.

House leans on the table as you adjust the stage. “About… the dance. Tonight.”

You adjust the fine adjustment knob slowly, clicking your tongue unconciously. “What do you have to tell me?”

Greg looks around the lab awkwardly. He silently tried to encourage himself, mentally recalling the nights before, thinking about what to say to you. “I want to formally ask you to go to the gala with me.”

You stand at full height, facing him directly. House held his breath. He was so close to you, he thought he felt your breath on his face. “I don’t want to go. With you, Cameron, Chase, or Foreman. I don’t want to go.”

“Why?” House asked immediately.

You shake your head. “I’m-These things never go well for me House. Besides, you could just go with Cameron. I know she’s dying to go with you.”

House watches you watch him. “I don’t want to go to Cameron. I want to go with you,” he admits lowly.

“And why do you want to go with me?”

House pauses to see your eyes flicker from his eyes to his lips- so fast that he almost didn’t notice. “Because I don’t like her the way I like you.’’

You swallow. “How do you like me, House?”

“Like this,” he tells you before dropping his cane and grabbing your waist. Hearing no complaints from you, Greg pulls you close to him and brings his face close to yours. At this point, House swears his vision is blurred by how fast his heart his pumping. House’s hold on your waist is possessive, protective. He hesitates, hoping you won’t reject him now.

You- thankfully- understand the words House is trying to tell you through his eyes. You carefully let your hand cup the nape of House’s neck and pull his lips down to yours. A breathless moan escapes your lips as Greg pulls you flush against him.

House’s head- for once- is silent. And his leg doesn’t seem to hurt quite so bad with your hands on his body: feeling him like he’s only dreamt about before.

And then- when you do pull back- House keeps his grip on your waist as he looks you in the eyes. “I want to go to the gala with you. If you don’t have a dress, then we can just go home.”

Your flushed lips pull into a dazed smile. “How much cleavage do you want to see?”

House groans and lets his head fall back as his eyes close. “As long as I can take it off tonight and any other day I don’t care.”

“Is that- Are you- Are you hinting at commitment? Who are you and what have you done with Gregory House?”

House guffaws sarcastically. “Careful, there. I could get you fired.”

You just laugh. “Yeah, and have the others bicker like siblings and let patients almost die thrice before diagnosing them? I don’t think so.”

“You know, you have a pretty big ego for someone who hasn’t worked here for a full year, yet,” House chides.

Scoffing, you attempt to return to the blood you were looking at before House interrupted you. “First of all, you would know about egos. Second of all, I’m good. Cuddy has spoken to me… about other positions,” you tell him vaguely.

House is taken so off guard, his arms go limp. “What?”

“Nothing I accepted,” you answer, turning back to the microscope.

House just hums. “Good.”

You murmur a quiet ‘good’ in reply. “I know how to cure this guy,” you breathe quietly. With a growing smile, you take the slide off the stage and turn off the microscope before discarding the bio-waste.

House struggled to keep up with how fast you were walking, but your kiss had definitely left him chasing you- literally and figuratively.

[awritesthings1]

Gone with the Leaves

Pairing: Tommy Shelby / Wife Reader

Summary: Despite your happy marriage to Tommy, you feel an undeniable jealousy towards Lizzie. Perhaps a day in the forest will do you some good.

ao3 link

A/N: I'm starting a tag list, comment if you want to be added :)

-

“You write like you’re running out of time,” mused Lizzie Stark, former prostitute, now Tommy’s secretary. “They have typewriters for those types of things, y’know?”

You saw the volley of cannonballs that launched and subsequently landed on Tommy’s desk as the words left her mouth. It wasn’t that you expected more of poor old plain Lizzie, but you thought that the time she had spent lying on her back staring past the shoulder of a customer at the ceiling would have taught her to read a room. Nevertheless, she stood there, quite amused with herself, smiling stupidly at your husband.

Tommy, who had been sitting at his desk all afternoon attending to letters, the ledger, and god knows what else, peered up from the paper. “What did you say?”

This time, it was your turn to be amused. He pointed accusingly at Lizzie, who by then had realised her impetuous mistake. Her wide eyes fluttered to you desperately, like a bee that had indulged itself in so much pollen that it became stuck in its own honey. No, that was putting it lightly. She looked to you like a frightened child who knew exactly what kind of trouble they were in.

You made sure you looked the other way.

“It was only a silly joke,” came her spluttering apology.

Tommy squinted, and his mouth curled into a frown. Smoke chased the deep exhale from the cigarette hanging between his lips. Your husband carried this terrifying look to him that many feared. Without the peaky cap to cover his striking blue eyes, you saw his glare cut away the cords in Lizzie’s throat with just one look. How could poor Lizzie defend herself from eyes that had witnessed nightmarish things?

“I’m not clear. Is it funny that I sign my letters by hand, or are you above using ink now that you have graduated from the bed to the desk?”

Lizzie’s mouth wormed into a thin line, yet she still looked to you for help. Of what help she thought you would possibly spare, you weren’t sure. For once, Lizzie used initiative and showed herself out.

Your heels clacked across the wooden threshold of your husband’s office. Now that no one was there to disturb you both, you sat down on Tommy’s lap. By then, he was leaning back on his chair, work abandoned for the time being until he could wash the sour sight of Lizzie Stark from his eyes.

“You know I don’t like her,” you said plainly.

There was no need for fake smiles or lies with Tommy. You knew him, and he knew you.

Tommy exhaled loudly, stubbing out the last of his cigarette on his ashtray and taking a swig of whiskey before his calloused hand found your waist.

He clears his throat. “It’s only business with her.”

“I know, but that doesn’t mean I like her any less.”

Tommy loved you, not Lizzie Stark, yet you couldn’t stomach the undeniable jealousy that arose with her presence. Perhaps it was a natural inclination women had toward their lovers. Lizzie had never done anything outwardly wrong to you. So, what was it then that turned your plain teeth into hissing fangs?

Everyone knew that Tommy was one of her paying customers before you met him, but so were all of Small Heath. You never felt insecure in your relationship with Tommy; there was no need to feel threatened by a prostitute. Yet that wouldn’t stop the catty feline that emerged from its slumber when Lizzie’s wandering eyes battered at your husband.

No. Lizzie Stark would never know what it felt like to be loved by a man like Tommy. What you held in your hands each night was a transcendental, unconditional type of love—one that surpassed the heart and soul, which drew two beings together in the most unconventional yet fitting way. The way that covers kept you warm at night, Tommy watched over your hearth and kept the fire burning, even if he were on the other side of the country.

You closed your eyes, leaning into the valley between Tommy’s neck and shoulder as you listened for the bah-dum-bah-dum of his heart. They sat together in silence, cherishing each other’s presence, while Tommy rested his cheek on your head. Outside, the world waited, barking at their front door and scratching at the delicately carved wood. Even the rain lashed at the windowpanes, playing together like one elemental orchestra.

The hand not resting on your waist rose to gently stroke up and down your arm. You shivered, but it wasn’t from the cold.

“I think you have some work to attend to in the bedroom,” you mumbled into his neck.

Your nose searched for the spot where he applied his aftershave.

“Eh?” Came his gruff response.

Your hand wandered down his suit in answer.

-

The sheets were bundled around Tommy’s naked waist when you sauntered back over to the bed with his case of cigarettes in hand. Gratefully, he took the case from your hand, wrapping an arm around your shoulder to pull you into the warmth of his chest. Then he began the usual routine. He fished out a cigarette to offer, but you shook your head no, so he slid it once, then twice, across his bottom lip. On the bedside table, he grabbed the half-empty matchbox to light the cigarette.

Tommy was the resident chain smoker in your house. With an appetite for tobacco and whiskey, you often wondered just how he sustained himself throughout the day. Of course, there were the home-cooked meals at Arrow House waiting for his return, although that didn’t stop you from worrying any less. It was pathetic, really, sitting all alone in his study, twiddling your fingers, and sitting beneath his portrait like you were praying to him. Tommy was no god, no matter how much he tried to convince everyone else. Yet whenever headlights passed the window and lit up the office momentarily, you would stand up and peer out, hoping to spot your husband exiting the car.

He cleared his throat, drawing your attention back to the present. You loved watching the way the cigarette shifted between his lips when he spoke, even more when his hooded eyes looked over at you. Tommy was a man of few words, simply because he didn’t need language to communicate. His body spoke for him in tongues for all his enemies to understand. And more importantly, in a way your body understood.

Your hand abandoned his tattoo to stroke a thumb across his full bottom lip. Lust swelled there, eager to chase the rest of the night away into a haze of pleasure until the sun rose. As tempting as it was, you sighed at the thought. You would rather spend this time taking in your husband, remembering the fine details across his face and body, from the scar in the hollow of his cheek to the rough texture beneath his shoulder blade where a bullet was once lodged. You wanted to trace the sockets of his eyes the way a blind person would, treasuring each valley, mountain, and cut of skin as if it were to disappear the second you stopped touching him.

“You’re beautiful,” you decided, bathed in candlelight, tangled up between the sheets and Tommy’s arms.

Tommy’s brows furrowed, and the cigarette hung dangerously loose from where his lips curled into a frown. He grunted, clearly dissatisfied with your words. Tommy wasn’t beautiful. He was hard, ambitious, and unmovable force.

Beautiful was a conventional word savored for the finest women. To you? It meant so much more. Crafted in a way that would cause people to stare, sure, but there was also a poetic sense to the word. The type of beauty you would use to describe a well-written novel or heart-wrenching poem. Thomas Shelby stood for something, and that was beautiful.

“Then what are you, eh?”

A lazy smile floated onto your face, so much so that you had to bite your lip to refrain from looking devastatingly pleased at his answer.

A woman, a dreamer, a friend, a reader, an achiever. “A wife.”

He huffed, raising his eyebrows playfully.

Why was it that most women felt like they could only fit the frame of one? With Tommy, you were never limited to the endless possibilities. You treasured being a wife the same way you treasured your other roles. Marriage wasn’t the end all be all. Perhaps that’s another lie men spun—that perfectly capable women stopped existing as soon as a diamond ring slid onto their finger. How sad, you thought, to waste away all that potential when men were still free to pursue stupid ideas like war and dog fights.

Tommy was unbothered by traditional ideas like that. Change powered his ambition; he had no time for parallel lines. You could be his wife, a writer, a singer, or a mother—whatever you wanted—and he wouldn’t think of you any less.

You hummed, chasing that cigarette from his lips and stubbing it out in the ash tray by his bedside table. Tommy didn’t seem too heartbroken about it. In fact, there was some mirth in his gaze. His hands traced up your naked spine, pulling your body further into his until you could smell the smoke in his breath.

“Yes,” he breathed in loudly through his nose, “my wife.”

-

The following day, you were invited to the Basnett's hunting party. You would’ve been more enthusiastic to write about your excitement to attend if the whole ordeal hadn’t been so troublesome. Because a few days prior, when you were visiting your husband’s office, you had caught sight of the letter on Lizzie’s desk, a letter that was supposed to reach you days earlier.

“What’s this?” You asked.

“Oh, nothing interesting,” Lizzie had said, too occupied with filing her nails while on the clock.

You kept your composure for the sake of keeping the peace. You didn’t wish to disturb Tommy if he were to walk by.

“This is a letter addressed to me,” you pressed.

“Oh.” She stopped for a moment, then leaned over to read the letter you had pulled from the messy pile. “No, it’s addressed to Tommy.”

“Mr. and Mrs. Shelby,” you hissed quietly, with emphasis on the missus.

“Hm, I didn’t notice.”

“You are paid to notice.” You fought the urge to comment that she was paid for other things not long ago. “How long has this been sitting here?”

Lizzie tapped her cigarette ash into the tray. “The post boy dropped that lot off yesterday.”

Even if it was only two days late to reach your hand, by society’s standards, that may have well been taken as you snubbing the invitation. Frustratingly, you had to cancel your plans that day and personally deliver your letter to the Basnett’s door, citing some excuse of it having been lost in the post.

“That woman is up to no good.” You said glumly that night into Tommy’s chest.

“I’ll speak to her,” he promised in that stoic tone of his.

Whether he had been true to his words, you weren’t sure because Lizzie made an effort to avoid you when possible.

“Oh! Mrs. Shelby! How wonderful for you to join us! Come in, come in. The men are readying their rifles for the hunt outside. How exciting!” Gushed Lady Basnett, shooing you into the atrium of her lavish mansion.

Your riding boots clacked across the floor before being muffled by an intricately woven rug. You stared up at the chandelier, childishly wondering if it would hit you if it were to fall at that moment.

“Right this way, Mrs. Shelby!” Lady Basnett ushered excitably.

You debated if all her energy was for show—to please her husband and be the good wife he expected of her. After she showed you through to the veranda and down to the circle of wives who had gathered under the trees while their husbands readied for the hunt, you decided that no, she must truly enjoy planning social occasions like this, as evidenced by the way she kissed Sarah’s cheek in greeting with a wide grin.

It pleased you to know that Lady Basnett found joy in something. Ever since her eldest died in the war, she has been known to be a bit of a recluse.

“Oh, what a beautiful ring! May we see it?” Doe-eyed Catherine asked.

She was one of the younger wives, like yourself. Catherine married an older man, twice her senior. Many of the wives here faulted her for it behind her back, but not you. You saw more of yourself in her than you did in any of the other women. Because, despite the age gap, the girl seemed to be utterly head-over-heels in love with a man society deemed old-fashioned for her. And how could you blame her when you swore an oath to a gangster of all people?

You obliged and let the wives twist and turn your hand to better inspect the diamonds on your ring finger.

“It’s perfect!”

“How many carats?”

“My Mary would be so jealous!”

After dutifully showing your wedding ring, you noticed the men beginning to mount their horses.

Catherine hooked her arm around yours. “Come on, we are going to be left behind!”

She jovially pulled you along the stone tiles at a speed that made you grateful for wearing riding boots. The backyard was grand in the sense that the acres they owned stretched vastly into the nearby forest. Although there were impressive features, like the hedge they had grown into a maze and the trees that were shaped into birds.

“Lady Basnett owned an aviary of budgies. Dear little things they were, she was devastated when they all escaped one night after the groundskeeper forgot to close the door,” Catherine commented, having noticed the way your head was turned.

You laughed, because you could precisely picture Lady Basnett as the type to fawn over little budgies.

Catherine led you to the horses, where some of the wives were already perched, waiting for the party to leave. None of them carried rifles, but rather wicker baskets strapped to the saddle for the picnic they planned to have at the top of the hill while they waited for their husbands to finish hunting.

Together, you set off, having mounted the back of Catherine’s mare. Deeper into the forest you went, the black mare trotting over loose dirt and rocks. Both of you remained at the end of the pack, preferring to keep to yourselves in light conversation.

Then it all happened so suddenly. One of the rifles went off up ahead, and a flock of birds rushed at you from the break in the foliage, startling your mare. You gasped in shock and reached for Catherine’s jacket to hold on, but only skimmed her. She went face first into the dirt while you were swept into the air like a leaf and fell with the grace of a rock. The ground thundered as the mare galloped into the distance.

“Fuck!” Catherine spat.

(On her fall she had taken a mouthful of soil and leaves.)

“They’ll come back,” you tried to reassure her.

-

Hours later, the two of you still had not been found.

“I was a prostitute before George found me, y’know.”

No, you didn’t know.

“That’s why I’m so young and he so old,” she smiled fondly, laughing as if it were the most normal thing.

You couldn’t find it in your heart to dislike her because of her circumstances. She was your friend, and a true one at that.

What was it that Tommy said? The past is the past.

-

The sun began to set when one of the men from the hunting party found you both huddled together under a tree. Kindly, he let the two of you ride the rest of the way back despite your hesitance to mount another horse.

When you returned to Lady Basnett’s, with Catherine in arm, the sun had been set for at least two hours. You hadn’t realized what trouble you had gotten yourself into until you noticed Tommy’s Bentley parked in the crowded driveway of the mansion. Men stood at the gate, armed and waiting. Catherine opened her mouth to remark how ridiculous it was, but you kept your lips sealed after recognizing the guards to be Peaky Blinders.

Tommy had to be beside himself.

A young boy who was playing between the cars popped his head out when the gates squealed open. His ears perked up, and he ran inside, clutching his peaky cap, to probably inform the adults inside of your arrival. People pooled out onto the front steps, the women covering their hearts and sighing with relief, and the men holding their hats to their chests. But when your husband, Tommy, came storming out, they parted like the red sea.

He stalked across the gravel like a predator, his eyes trained on you with an unblinking stare.

“Are you hurt?” He ignored Catherine, cupping your face and frantically looking between both your eyes as if you would disappear.

Upon further inspection, his eyes were bloodshot, and the white sleeves of his blouse were bundled into the golden garters. Your hands itched to muse his disheveled hair into place, but with all the curious onlookers, you thought better of it.

“No.”

George, Catherine’s husband, was quick to whisk her away inside. You heard Lady Basnett’s voice trailing after them: “Oh my, what a terrible thing. Come now, let me pour you some tea.”

Unfortunately, tea wouldn’t make up for any lost ground with Tommy.

“We’re going.”

You knew better to open your mouth to disagree. This was Tommy being afraid and carrying on. He retreated into himself. It didn’t look pretty or like he cared, but he cared; you knew he cared. It was only that no one else was allowed to know that the great Thomas Shelby felt any emotion.

At Arrow House, he swallowed two glasses of whiskey before saying a word. You were pulling at the hem of the overcoat that Tommy had shook off his shoulders to give you for the ride home. Your fingers just couldn’t stand the anxious silence that rang throughout the room.

“What the fuck happened?”

He stood in front of you, stoic as a soldier but cracking around the exterior thanks to his hand, which itched for the cigarette case inside his pocket. (A nervous tick of his.) You grab his hand between your own before he can fish out the case.

“The horse got spooked. It bucked Catherine and me off, but we’re fine.”

His thumb rubs across your knuckles as he looks past your shoulder out the window.

“Do you know where I was when I got the call? Eh? I was handling some business when Lizzie came in and told me some posh old woman was on the line, saying you were missing.”

He exhaled sharply, dropping his gaze to you, where you noticed his eyes soften.

“I thought…” He broke off.

His chin dropped, and he went to itch his nose with his other hand.

“What did you think happened? Is there something I should know about?” Concern leaked into your voice.

“No,” he huffed, clearing his throat. “It doesn’t matter. You’re home, and you’re safe.”

You bit your lip to stop yourself from saying anything that might push him over the edge. He was fragile in a state like this in the sense that he pushed the stronger, more vivid feelings to the side because you were his wife, not a Peaky Blinder. No, you would never be, even though you married one.

Often, you would wish you could turn into the leaves that swept off the pavement and into the air. Imagine then how much easier life would be for you both—to forget the animosity of life and rise above it all, breathe in that crystal air, and then finally exclaim the truth because up there no one could hear them or cared enough to try anyway.

Cautiously, you let go of his hand and traced your fingertips up to knead away the tension in his jaw.

“Thomas… Do you remember what you asked of me? To help you with the whole fucking thing—”

“From now on—”

“Thomas—”

“From now on, let me know where you are going. I will organize a guard to watch over you.”

‘You write like you’re running out of time,’ Lizzie’s poorly placed joke from the start of the week reverberated in your skull.

Was he?

“I need you,” he breathed, the smell of whiskey fanning over your senses.

You nodded, pressing up on your toes to kiss him. A soft breath escaped him when you pulled away.

“You have me.”

[owlcomics101]

”Zoomies.” Task force 141 x Cheetah hybrid!user

Warning: SFW (I am a minor), fluff, cussing/swearing, cat shenanigans

You were a cheetah hybrid. You had the cheetah ears, tail, fangs, and feet paws. You were a great asset to the task force for your speed and agility accept, there was one problem; You get the ‘zoomies’. If you have an off day or a mission that didn’t involve a full on chase. All that built up energy needed to be released at some point. You were sitting in Price’s office, helping him out with some reports when your legs started to bounce. Your fingers tap against the table anxiously as you held one of the files in your hands and tried to focus on reading it. Price looked away from his computer screen-noticing your fidgeting.

“You alright there Y/N?” He asked with a skeptical brow, to which you tried to play it off with a head nod before going back to your paper. Price cocked his head to the side seeing your tail thrashing back and forth violently and smacking against your chair. He couldn’t help but slightly smirk in amusement.

“You’re fidgeting, love.” He points out. You let out a huff looking away from him.

“No-……So what? I’m just a bit finicky right now….” You grumble, griping the paper tightly until your knuckles turned white. Price couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Look, if we get this done I’ll take you outside. How does that sound?” He tried offering a compromise, trying to have something to motivate you to work. Your ears couldn’t help but perk up at the offer.

“Really?” You asked with a low purr rumbling in your throat“Really, mate.” Price replied. Amused by your low purr that you hadn’t even noticed occur. Your ears rested flat against your head as you went right to work, determined to finish early before it was lights out for everyone. Price let out a small sigh of relief. Finally getting your ‘zoomies’ under control. That was until there was a large thud in the hallway. Price immediately got up from his desk and walked over to the door and opened it to see what the racket was all about.

“What the bloody hell is going on out here!?” Price shouts, only to be met with Soap being chased by Ghost down the hall. Gaz on the floor who seemed to have been caught by surprised and trampled by the two, but Gaz was just too fed up with them to get up anymore.

“YOU TAKE THAT BACK JOHHNY-RIGHT NOW BEFORE I CUT YOUR BLOODY TONGUE OFF!” Ghost shouts. Your ears perk up at this as you look over to see Ghost tackling Soap to the ground and attempting to choke Soap out.

“Y-You c-an’t escape the t-truth L.T!” Soap said between choked breaths. Price storming over and pulling Ghost off of Soap.

“Would you muppets cut the shitte out!? Y/N are trying to get some fucking work done and you two are just sitting here acting like childr-“

“Uhh…..guys?” Gaz interrupts Price slowly standing to his feet.

“What!?” Price snaps looking back at Gaz before his eyes widen. All four of them see you staring back at them with dilated pupils and teeth bared, your shoulders slightly shifting as if your getting ready to pounce.

“Oh shit….” Soap muttered

“Fucking hell-“ Ghost was cut off by you bolting out of Price’s office and sprinting towards them. Soap struggled to get up as they all panicked trying to get out of the way but just kept bumping into each other like a pair of idiots.

“Y/N no-Please just take a moment to breathe-“ Price tried to deescalate the situation but you immediately tackled him to the ground. Knocking the air straight out of him as he wheezed. You looked down at Price before looking back up to see Soap running ahead.

“Soap stop running!-Your gonna give Y/N the wrong idea-“ Ghost tried to get Soap to stop but you used Ghost as a boost and jumped onto Ghost’s shoulders and jump off to tackle Soap.

Cut to the team lying in makeshift beds in the infirmary, all of them covered in head to toe with bruises and scratches from you. You were given catnip to ‘calm down’. They all stared at you playing with a toy mouse. All of them still out of breath and wheezing from the chase. Ghost and Soap will think twice before arguing with each other again.

[captainsophiestark]

Don't Believe Everything You Read

Anthony Bridgerton x Reader

Masterlist��- Join My Taglist!

Written for Fictober 2024!

Fandom: Bridgerton

Day Three Prompt: "I know you better."

Summary: A wannabe Whistledown is posting some awful rumors, but luckily for Anthony, his wife knows him well enough that she doesn't believe them.

Word Count: 1,247

Category: Angst, Fluff

Putting work into an AI program without permission is illegal. You do not have my permission. Do not do it.

I sighed, tightening my hands on the book I was reading and trying to refocus on the words. I'd been having a nice, peaceful morning in Bridgerton house (a truly rare feat) until Eloise and Benedict had started some commotion near the door to the sitting room.

I'd married Anthony almost a year ago now, but I still hadn't learned how to block out his siblings quite as well as he did.

I managed to finish another paragraph before the commotion at the door distracted me again. I glanced at the pair out of the corner of my eye, and found them having a whispered argument, both glancing in my direction every few moments. I sighed. The rest of my story would have to wait until later.

Slowly and quietly, so as not to draw too much attention from the Bridgertons by the door, I makred my page in my book and set it down on the couch. I stood, drifting over toward Eloise and Benedict. Eloise had something in her hand, and it seemed to be the genesis of hers and Benedict's hushed argument. I got a little closer and recognized the shape and style of a scandal sheet.

Eloise and Benedict had gotten steadily more heated in their argument, and when Eloise flailed the paper in my direction, I snatched it out of her hand.

She and Benedict both whirled in my direction, but I'd made it halfway across the room before either of them got a chance to take the paper back.

"Don't read that!" Benedict shouted, chasing after me.

"You have a right to read it, but you might want a bit of a heads up first-"

I cut Eloise off by darting well out of their reach and reading one of the headlines of the scandal sheet.

Viscount Bridgerton Stepping Out On His New Wife?

I snorted and rolled my eyes. I quickly scanned the rest of the article, which went on to talk sensationally about all these rumors surrounding Anthony and a mysterious new mistress. Not a word of it was believable, of course, and at least one of the reports of Anthony strolling at night with a strange woman was just me, wearing new clothes the rest of the Ton hadn't seen yet. I barely made it to the end of the article before I started laughing.

I looked up to find Eloise and Benedict looking at me warily. I just shook my head.

"This is certainly no Lady Whistledown, is it?" The pair raised their eyebrows at me, still tensed like they were worried the laughter would turn to tears. I rolled my eyes. "Oh please, both of you. I know Anthony, I know this is ridiculous. Clearly whoever's writing this nonsense has too much free time on their hands. Or maybe not enough, since they couldn't come up with anything more realistic than this."

"So... you're not upset?" asked Eloise.

"No, El, I'm not. I know the man I married. This," I waved the paper around in my hand, "is just funny."

She and Benedict let out massive sighs as one.

"Well, that's certainly a relief," said Benedict. "I suppose Eloise and I were getting worked up for nothing."

"And likewise, you interrupted my reading for nothing," I said. "You're welcome to stay if you're quiet, but otherwise, I appreciate the laugh, but would appreciate more the return of my peaceful reading space."

"You have chosen the sitting room as your peaceful space," Benedict said. "That might not offer you the highest chance of remaining undisturbed."

"You make a fair point, but you also seemed to want to keep this scandal sheet from me completely, so I think today I can kick you out."

"Fair enough. Eloise?"

"I was supposed to meet Penelope before I found the scandal sheet with the mail. I'm already a bit late," she said with a wave over her shoulder as she headed out of the room. Benedict gave me a teasing bow, then followed his sister out of the room.

I sighed, then settled back in to my original place on the couch. I made it through another few pages before the door of the sitting room went flying open, the door making a loud bang as it slammed into the wall. I jumped and whirled around to find Anthony, looking like an absolute mess as he crossed the room in just a few strides before sliding to his knees before me. His hair stuck up at all angles and his clothes looked disheveled. He took my hands in his and started speaking before I could get a word out.

"My love, it's not true. Not a word of it. I love you, you must know that. I would absolutely never, ever go behind your back, would never even dream of spending time with anyone else-"

"Anthony, my god! Take a breath, what are you talking about?"

"I saw Eloise. She told me you'd read the scandal sheet sent out this morning. But you must know, it was a lie."

"Did you happen to wait for Eloise to tell you my reaction before you raced in here?"

"No. I worried... I didn't want to waste a moment before speaking with you. I promise, I would never do that to you. There's no one else and there never will be-"

"I know! Anthony, believe me, I know." I slid to the ground along with him, chest to chest as I kept his hands held tight in mine. "You think I'd believe some ridiculous wannabe Whistledown telling me you're a cheater? I know you better. I know you best. I know you would never do that to me, that I can trust you, no matter what. Even if Whistledown herself had reported it, I wouldn't have believed a word."

"...Truly?"

"Absolutely! We're rock solid, Anthony. I honestly wouldn't have married you if I didn't trust you."

He sighed, all the tension easing from his body as he slumped forward, wrapping his arms around my waist and resting his head on my shoulder.

"I cannot tell you how relieved I am to hear that."

"I'm glad we got your worry cleared up quickly," I said. "Although, if you had paused to talk to Eloise for another moment, she could've told you I started laughing the minute I read those ridiculous reports."

Anthony picked his head up to look at me, pulling me closer to him as he did.

"I'm much happier to have heard it from you directly. Especially since it means I can do this."

He leaned in, a grin on his face, and kissed me. I ran my hands up his back and into his hair, but pulled away after just a moment. Anthony moved to follow me, but I put a hand on his chest to stop him.

"Anthony, we are in the sitting room! Anyone could walk in on us at any moment."

"Good. Then they'll know the rumors are just that, and that nothing could ever come between the two of us."

"Anthony."

"Fine. This is an easy fix as well."

With that, he stood, picking me up and carrying me out of the room. I laughed, not even bothering to mention my book that now lay forgotten on the sofa. Anthony and I had other plans for the rest of our morning, it seemed, and I couldn't say I minded them. Anthony and I were happier than I ever thought we could be, and nothing was going to interfere with that, especially not some ridiculous gossip rag.

****************

Everything Taglist: @rosecentury @kmc1989 @space-helen

Bridgerton Taglist: @cherrybb-ily

[bellerocks4]

The boy and his hats!!!!! Look at them all :D

This is like a little counter-part to the one i did of Six's masks. Also I rated the hats, which i will go into more detail about below the cut ;P

The Classic, The Original, The Paper Bag!!!!

I have like an emotional attachment to this hat, i kid you not. My favorite by far, he just looks so good <33333

5/5 hats

....Ball

Gonna be real with you, i hate the way this hat looks in game. I made it look good because I'm awesome but for real he looks so fuckin goofy in this hat, it has its charm but still

1.5/5 hats

✨Rain Cap✨

I don't love love this hat on him but i can't overlook the fact that he matches with siiiiiiixx thats just sO CUTE GAH!! Twinsies,,,

3.5/5 hats

Postman Cap!!!

Kay i actually love this hat on him it's hella cute, lost points because its fucking HUGE in game. Like how is that thing not eating his whole head jfc

4/5 hats

Mokujin Mask

This is a pretty good hat i just,,, don't get the reference,, if there even is one???? maybe its a historical kind of mask hm- ok no i just looked it up, it is a reference. Anyway, yeah good hat overall but im not the target audience so

2.5/5 hats

Flat Cap! or Gatsby Cap, the way superior name

I love this hat so much he looks so cute in it, like i didn't even do it justice its so cute

5/5 hats <3

Nome <3

ok yeah I took some liberties with this one, this isn't really what it looks like in game. but that's because the in game version looks kinda lame so i made it better <3 Minorly disappointing after the wild goose chase i had to go through to get it >:(

1/5 hats :(

Hunter Hat :D

First hat in the game, it's ok,, i just think its a bit boring is all. I favor hats that cover his whole face anyway so im a bit biased. The tail is fuckin adorable tho, i love the way it trails after him :)

3/5 hats

Stuffed Bear Hat of evil

ok when i said i favored hats that covered his whole face i did not mean this one- I did amazing drawing it✨ but its horrifying in game. Which i assume was the point, so kudos ig, but this is my personal how much i like it scale and the bear's ugly >:P

1.5/5 hats

....

I... its- .... *starts crying*

5/5 hats

Tin Can Hat

Ok when i said that I favor hats that cover his whole face I meant this one <3 Got that charm from the paper bag but he kinda wonky. So cute :D

4.5/5 hats

Mummy Hat

Listen- its cool ok? cool and creepy but cool. If you haven't guessed already all my favorites are hats he looks cute in and this? yeah this ain't it...

2/5 hats

OK!! Thats all folks!!! Thanks for indulging my silly little hat scale <3

[puella-peanut]

any ideas for a silverusso involving super hot crackerjack!terry and precious baby daniel/teddy from cuba and his teddy bear?

Terry Silver’s an undercover narcotics officer with a taste for cocaine on the sly. But when he catches wind of several rogue drug deals that a low life, illiterate drug dealer has run too close to his neighborhood of choice—he sets out to investigate. 

But one day early into the hunt, on the fire escape of a crumbling brownstone on the Lower East Side—instead of an uneducated man with a penchant for a hustle, Terry runs into a child. A teenager, really. And the sweetest boy he’s ever seen. All shaggy, dark hair, matching eyes. Plump lips. But there's an ugly bruise on his thin cheek. The remains of a scar puckered on his forehead.

He’s not much more than sixteen. 

He’s terrified. 

Their eyes meet for just a moment, across soot and stairs. Curiosity and fear. Before and after. 

Not even a second later, the boy tries to make a run for it, his sneakers slamming into a dirty puddle at the start of what could have been a sprint—except that Terry’s too fast for him. Too tall, too strong. Too ready. 

Too much. 

He reaches, turning as he does so the kid slams against the alleyway wall. Crying out pitifully as his narrow back crashes into dirty brick, and shaking so hard that Terry simply holds him there like that, against the graffiti swear words scrawled high as if to challenge god. Moments pass, rats scuttling between them towards the overflowing garbage nearby. The boy is reduced to shivers, then to the occasional twitch. On the street, grimy, shifty-eyed people walk by either unaware, or unconcerned. In Terry’s arms, the kid eventually manages to hold himself very still, face deathly white. As if willing himself to vanish. Curl up into the air and take to the sky like the foul smoke from neighboring factories. Or a bird. 

Terry’s grasp on him tightens.

He feels the bone shift and flesh stir, and the boy comes alive again; cheeks flushing red, a whimper that shouldn't be pretty but is, spilling from his slender throat. Terry presses into him at that, inhaling the scent of fresh cigarette smoke and something more foul, desperate—and then his hand sharply rolls up an arm of the kid’s jean-jacket. The faded sleeve of the old red sweatshirt under. He holds up a scrawny arm to the scrutiny of his eyes, to the judgement of a cold winter sun. The boy’s pretty face crumples like paper. 

Track marks. Scratches. A scar from the jagged edge of a switchblade. 

Bruises so dark they’re almost black. 

Terry breaths out, slowly. Breath fogging into unspoken ghosts between them. 

Heroin, of course. Child abuse a given. The boy’s too slight and timid for brawling, though. Bullying? Easy target, this one. But underage sex work? Child prostitution? For fuck’s sake. Surely…

Terry studies him again. The long lashes. The delicate line of his clavicle. The fragile, breakable beauty of him.

A looker. 

And on these streets—a victim. 

“Name, kid?” Terry asks finally. 

“I…I wasn’t doing nothin’, I promise, Officer, I, I’m just—“

“Name. Now.”

The boy swallows. Sniffles. A tear runs down the side of his nose. There's salt in the air, cold sweat on skin. Pain.  

“D…Daniel. Sir," he whispers.

That’s all it takes. 

...

Terry Silver’s an undercover narcotics officer with a taste for cocaine on the sly. But when he catches wind of several rogue drug deals that a low life, illiterate drug dealer has run too close to his neighborhood of choice—he sets out to investigate. 

...But what starts off as just a run of the mill drug bust very quickly turns into something more. Terry says he won't get involved, he can’t. Shouldn’t. Just catch the dealer, get the kid off the streets. Foster care, GED. A child psychologist. End this shit, let him go. Go back to black coffee and blacker toast. His daily white line of cocaine. Out of tune pianos and the creaky kneelers of Saint Patrick's down on Coogan. Return to his lonely apartment after hunting down criminals past midnight on the mean streets, just to wake up at five come next morning to do it all again. 

But he can't forget the trembling body he should never have touched. That sweet voice that sang for him so prettily when he carved the boy into his bed. The warm, slender hands tangled in his hair. Those pleading doe-eyes—pleading for what? Drugs? Protection? A lingering hold? Terry himself?

Terry knows he shouldn’t. 

He should keep away from this boy. He’s better than this, isn’t he? He only slipped that one time. Twice, goddamnit. He couldn’t help himself. One look into those fathomless eyes, one taste of that sweet mouth—and he falls. Away from his better judgement, right into Daniel’s welcoming body. Doing exactly to the boy what he said he was going to save him from. After a while, he can’t even bring himself to let it bother him. If it ever truly bothered him in the first place. 

Terry knows that broken boy in his arms, in his bed—is his. And if he’s got to break him more to keep him that way—so be it, then. 

So be it. 

[pierofilm]

yandere simulator; xo (only if you say yes)

2024 | 18+ | RUNTIME: 23K | STARRING > Y.JW | SUMMARY; when you—a corporate worker in her late twenties—finds a strange self-proclaimed online game "no one has ever win this game yet", where its premise are centered around yanderes, but instead of the classic route where the yanderes had to chase you, it is you who have to do it; turn the boy you've chosen into a lovesick creature for you before someone else does. playing it online is surely fine, but what happens when you find yourself stuck in its world?

GENRE: yandere, survival/death game, character-driven story, violence/gore, dark psychology, psychological thriller, drama

LVL 2 WARNING: intense emotional outbursts, minor graphic details of gore, ;; not a native eng speaker! grammar errors ahead!,

THEME MUSIC: ROSEATE LIGHT / BGM.

DIRECTOR'S CUT, ep 2 is finally out after two months of grinding!! its not my best work, as im kind of bummed with my eng. i've revised it countless of times, so apologies for any mistakes but regardless i hope yall will still love it <3 btw i don't do taglist for my works, apologies for that! so today concludes the last release for this roleplay game bc i have to finish two film projects which has been delayed for quite awhile now :'( so there won't be any update until further notice! soo yeah 𖹭 hope you enjoy and tyvm for reading!

loading... lvl ②

this is a roleplay story game with a poll, where you may either choose to observe yourself as the protagonist or the one helping the protagonist. to play the game, it is advise to read the story properly because once you've reached the bottom, a poll will be presented with multiple routes you have to choose. every level's poll has a 1-week time limit, and therefore it is advise to not rush to vote and to have a discussion among each other first, and to think wisely which choice you think are the best —as the majority of the votes will decide how the game progresses. but its important to keep in mind, that each route has its advantages and disadvantages and may lead to the protagonists' downfall rather than benefiting her.

AUG 23. 2024

EARTH, ****

i. WHAT IS A GAME TO YOU?

A game is an activity, one that engages with for newfound experiences, for amusement and fun, or simply out of pure boredom.

In a sense, it is a virtual world where you are able to do something you were unable to do in the real world; to live out a role. There are numerous, vast array of games, whether it be analog or digital. So many of them, you couldn't get the definitive, exact count of the total number that exists in the world.

But does that even matter when its main core is to give you an experience out of this world?

The real world.

Where humans assume a role the moment they realize what it meant to live and survive, yet not just one but many. We often rotate these roles like a roulette depending on who we talk with, or what kind of situation we're in, maybe what is expected of us, or to abide by of what is our current status and position.

The origin of the word 'role' could be trace back further to French rôle from obsolete French roule ‘roll’, referring to the roll of paper on which an actor's part was written, and also from Latin—rotula, rotulus 'little wheel', which is a diminutive of rota 'wheel'.

In a sense, we created scripts in our head of how we should act. Because think of this, how would you act if your mechanics suddenly acted like a doctor? Its weird, right? Or maybe depending on your opinion, you may find it hilarious.

That's why we act according to our role, the part given to us, and the many parts that we've assumed on our own.

The most famous quote expressing this comes from Shakespeare: "All the world's a stage, and all the men and women merely players. They have their exits and their entrances; And one man in his time plays many parts." 

Shakespeare are implying that all of us are constantly wearing masks. That some people are better actors than others, and he was right.

Person, comes from Old French persone, which derived from Latin persona which means 'actor's mask, character in a play'.

We're all actors in a colossal stage play, with roles to play.

A theatre; maybe you could compare the the actors as blocks—maybe a Jenga? A colossal building blocks that fits perfectly together, forming a cohesive tightly fitting society. Major or minor, each block is a component that serves a purpose to the society—fulfilling our respective roles. Yet that role can be taken away as easy as it was given to you, or even if you worked hard for it.

Why?

There are exactly eight billion people in this world, and these numbers will kept growing. Shall that mask comes off, or if you do not play your role properly, will society still accept you?

No. We are all too easily replaceable.

One block could be filled in or pulled out when the circumstances sees it fit, it's one heck of a big thing, anyways.

Whether it be in your personal life such as friendships, ever heard about trios rarely works? Or in relationships where your lover seems to pay no attention to you any longer and you are left wondering what went wrong? Or perhaps, in your career—where you are thrown out as soon as someone new, someone way younger and capable than you are came around despite pouring your best efforts in that field for so long.

A brief, momentary experience.

Yet some blocks get to never fit in, though. Never knowing how it feels like to be in one. Because it just, never fits in. It remains as a part of the auditorium, sandwiched in between the audience seat.

Say, you desire to inherit a farm or live in the countryside but you don't even have any family nor relatives in this field. Ever wanted to ride a dragon and wear a dazzling heavy armor across the sky? Or have your own restaurant whether it be a Chinese cuisine, maybe not that one but a pizza restaurant where you serve millions of people? Start your own business startup, sign all those contracts with the tycoons and earn that huge bucks of stacks but just don't have the time, energy, and capital to do so? Or maybe a pet shop because you had the unrealistic wish to own dozens of pet breeds?

Want to go through the nine-month process of pregnancy but all the post-pregnancy effects has your face cringing in fear? Or you just wanted to have a small cozy home yet you're too broke to even afford one? A healthy relationship, a functional family? A loving mother? Sure. A responsible father? On the way! Or you just wanted to feel loved? The bare minimum of all?

Sometimes, we're not so satisfied with the roles we end up in—that we are engulfed with a desire.

It could just be a mere hobby, to escape reality, a stress reliever, or to be part of a story you've never been and desires to be in. Its a role that deviates from who you are, from the hands of judgement of the court, where no one can judge you. To live as someone.

A virtual experiences. An immersion. A roleplay. A recreation. A simulation. Whatever you call it, all of them was meant to satisfy. To satisfy an urge, a want, a need—a desire for something. To feel something. To fill in this hollow void within.

To relive what was lost or to live what never existed in the first place.

Because why do we even read stories in the first place, then?

Something you can only do behind that screen, just a second away from your digits.

A chance.

And you were being given the second chance to relive those experience one more time, without having to give something in return.

It is one in a lifetime chance, the fact they don't give this freely to anyone enticed you, tempted you.

You desired to be love and craved for with no care for limit. For you were sure as hell no one would go crazy for you in this life. For you, yanderes are the epitome of love that are eternal and immortal. Anyone can say what they want to, but this kind love, no matter how toxic it may be, are divinely tempting.

For once, you wanted to be loved, not to love.

What harm would it do to you, even? Unless this game pulled a dirty trick of asking you to pay a heavy sum of bucks after, then it go screw itself, you could just press the exit button as swift as you can but for now, you'll see to it.

You accepted the package.

Pressing the button, a set of gift boxes in a variety of colours in their ribbons appeared much to your surprise, floating around in a rhythmic motion accompanied by a new BGM before settling down in a row at the bottom of your screen.

Curious, yet intrigued—you tapped on each gift box.

➤ .. 🎁 HEARTY EYES: APPEARANCE INCREASED BY 10 POINTS!

➤ .. 🎁 LOVE POTION: A WHIFF OF ROSY SCENT!

➤ .. 🎁REPUTATION METER: INCREASE BY 5 POINTS!

New XPs and skills made its appearance one by one, lighting up your eyes with delight and excitement. This new additional gifts would surely help you in your second try! A final gift box appeared out of blue much to your surprise, there's one more? Gulping down with giddiness, exceedingly curious of what it could contain, you tapped it with no hesitation.

➤ .. 🎁 DRESS-UP DARLING, THE GRAND INVITATION: REVEL IN YOUR NEW SKIN!

Eh? Invitation? Skin..?

You rubbed your heavy lids, for what purpose would you need a new skin for? Brows knitted deeply together deeply the peculiar package. Perhaps it could contained some extra points that may increase your appearance judging by its title.

New skin..

You accepted the gift box, and to your surprise—it returned you back to the options of play again, or return to the main menu in which you pressed the latter. What? That's it? No such thing as redirecting you into a fishy website, or all those eye-boggling digits?

Breathing out a small wow, although short-lived as your jaw dropped. Gasping after noticing the devil hours glaring back at you—illuminating your dark eyebags in blue hues—the sequences of events where your employer scolded you, slamming the colossal bold title of 'fired'—sending you in sheer panic.

Placing it under your pillow on your right side, you hurried to sleep as you tucked yourself in your cozy blankets.

Pitch black cloaked the entire expanse of the sky, yet the hush of the moon herself—conquered with vigor, casted a soothing spell—beckoning your heavy lids to succumb to its embrace.

Drifting into the darkness, you did.

Unbeknownst to you, a glow of light flickers beneath your pillow—illuminating the edge of your slumber face, approaching like mist— overshadowing the moon—dusting half of your nose a stroke of rosy tint, morphing into a heavier shade that consumes your face, to scathing your entire skin in streaks of crimson.

It progressively crawled out like an animated form of blood, dripping down your bed and onto your floor—morphing into razor sharp fingers that obscured your windows from the outside world.

Submerging your window in deep red, illustrating the image of an apocalyptic day.

The floor, your furniture, your closet—enveloped by its approaching force—bathing everything it could see in red. Returning to your side, it tucks your locks behind your ear before slithering across your arm, twirling around and settling on the table by the bed.

A display screen glowed amidst the flaming red, typing out a text:

APRIL 8, 2026 ➤ .. Good night, my darling.

The ceiling of your room greeted your drowsy lids. You groaned, irritated by the rays of the sun peering through the gaps of the curtain—casting its searing heat on your face.

You shifted your body where your back faces the window, your hands instinctively searching for your phone under your pillow, frowning when you couldn't grab anything.

Head clouded with slumber, you were sure you had placed it right there. Shifting your body once more, yawning as you stretched your hands on the bedside table.

There it is!

Raising your eyelids a bit, you tapped your phone's screen twice expecting to be greeted by your lock screen. Eyebrows knitting deeply as you quickly paused, rubbing your eyes to get a better look.

"Huh?"

Stunned by the peculiar color of rosy pink blotting your blurry vision. You felt the cold material in your palms, searching for the supposedly touch screen but it was too small and slim—hold on. You jammed your thumb in-between the two layers, flicking it open.

The heck is this? A flip phone? You were sure you've threw your barely working flip phone years ago. And it wasn't even p-pink?

Your sleep-dazed brain swirls with deeper confusion as you navigated through the strange tiny icons. All dripping in pink much to your disbelief.

Favors? Schedule? Student info? What the heck is all this weird stuffs? Your eyes widened when you finally notice the three-digit clock, it propels your body to tense almost immediately, sitting right up with eyes blown wide.

A high-pitched of whines escapes your lips. You're in for a great risk of getting fired today. You pulled the blanket off your frame, hurrying to get ready before all the eerie prospects in your mind come true—

Huh? Hold on.

Your body halted when you put your bare feet on the floor, eyes falling on a carpet that strangely looks a tad bit different than it used to. The patterns? The color? Groaning, you passed it off as another trick your brain playing on you as you just woke up. You rubbed your groggy eyes, yawning as you sprinted to the bathroom.

You really got no time for this, mumbling as you grabbed your toothbrush, putting a toothpaste on it before pushing into your mouth. So much for playing the damn game, now you're terribly, terribly late.

A fatal hit to your ten year streak as a diligent corporate worker. Now that you thought of it, a sigh escapes amidst the bubbles in your mouth. After awhile, with this mundane average life of yours that you've lived over the years, you've begin to wonder when will the time come for you to save up enough money to be able to quit? You've never had even a single vacation out of embarrassment and consideration for your co-workers.

At some point, you've felt like you were an automatic machine repeating and completing the same tasks every single day for ten years. It came to a brief thought that perhaps you were only truly living at night.

If only there's a world where you an escape to for awhile, away from this boring reality. But there's no way that world exists. If only you could—

Thoughts halted, looking at your reflection in the mirror. There is something wrong, and no, it's not your face—though you look strangely youthful? Leaning closer, you inspected your features with furrowed brows. Dark eyebags and the wrinkles nowhere to be found.

Eh?

Heck, you weren't that old, for sure. Yet you look slightly younger for some reason. Squinting your eyes, you stood a few inches away from the mirror, pulling a random poses as you try to observe anything you could find. Poking your cheeks that was strangely supple, a stark contrast of the hollow cheekbones you captured in your camera a few days ago, complaining to your friend of how you were aging so rapidly.

All those random beauty products she recommended to you finally worked out? Or was it the short burst of sleep you got? Knitting your eyebrows together at the thought as you resumed brushing your teeth, it can't be though?

Wait. Hold on.

You let out a gasp, snapping your head behind to you where your bathtub stood in it's glory. That's it. That's the shit. That pristine ceramic shooting rays against your face.

You don't have a fucking bathtub.

Where did that giant heck of a thing came from?

You've spent all your years dreaming for one, to submerged yourself in bubbles to chill in after a long day of work.

However to do that, a better apartment and an extra space is what you needed first, where you could put everything in their respective place. Having everything meld into one small room is mentally exhausting, and that wish only seems get further and further away from your grasp when that five digits holding the thread of your life keeps slamming you back to reality, leaving you cramped up inside your tiny apartment.

Maybe this is the sign that you should just be grateful and not to be greedy for more. But..

But this thing—is truly in front of you.

You took a few steps backwards to take a full view of the bathroom; it's oddly familiar but unfamiliar at the same time. You were sure you've seen this somewhere but you can't put it right in your mouth. With confusion hanging in your head so deep, you took a few gargles—finishing up.

Thinking back to it, this bathtub kind of look familiar.

You stood by the door, pausing for a thought you tilt your head sideways.

Something is amiss and it begin to sink in.

This is not your room.

With the realization setting in complete form, you stood there in bewilderment—snapping your head around, observing the unfamiliar furniture and corners of this strange room.

Where are you? And what the hell is that uniform hanging at the wall for? Are you perhaps having a lucid dream, where you could feel pain and all that sort of stuff? It must be those weird YouTube videos you've watched over the past few days.

Somehow, this looks like.. This looks like just like—

No way, though. You let out a nervous laugh. Pinching your cheeks hard, you let out a terribly loud 'ow', frowning at the throbbing pain. Why the heck does it hurts so much?!

➤ .. WELCOME, DARLING! I'VE BEEN WAITING FOR YOU FOR SO LONG!

You lose your balance, letting out a high-pitched scream from your throat—tipping off your sole when a huge floating pink object emerged out of nothing at your face. A computer display?! Almost like the science fiction films you've watched, it resembled a hologram but much, much more vivid and vibrant, floating before you.

A p-popup?

"W—what? Huh?!" Elbows digging on the floor, your expressions contorts into an amalgamation of fear and confusion. You hissed at the throbbing pain on your butt, rubbing it off to ease the pain. Why the heck does it hurt so much?!

You notice as it swiftly typed out a question.

➤ .. OH MY... HAVE YOU FORGOTTEN?

What is that thing?..

"W-what? What did I forgot?" Stammering, you blurted out without much thought.

➤ .. YOU LOSE LAST NIGHT. WHICH IS QUITE UNFORTUNATE, YET IT IS TO BE EXPECTED, AFTER ALL.

"The heck are you talking about?"

➤ .. YOU'RE IN MY GAME.. IN THE WORLD OF YANDERE SIMULATOR!

It took you a whole minute to process the words, laying there on your elbows. Until a high-pitched laughter spills out of your mouth, legs kicking in frantic motions as you try to push yourself up to stand.

Yandere Simulator? The game you were playing?

Bursting into another round of giggles, holding your stomach with your arms at this newfound joke. "M-me? In a game? More like in a dream!"

After what seem like a long laugh. You let out a huge exhale, now completely sure that this is a dream.

"Okay, wake up now," You slapped yourself on the cheek lightly a few times, clearing your throat as you shut your eyes tight. "You're too freaking obsessed with that game for god's sake. Wake up, wake up!"

A few beats of silence echoes.

You open your left eye, taking a peek. But to your disappointment, you're still in this weird dream.

➤ .. YOU'RE IN MY GAME. DON'T YOU GET IT?

You ignored it. Rushing back to the bed, tucking yourself in the blankets. Go back to sleep, idiot. You screamed in your head.

A robotic giggle suddenly hit your ears, forcing your eyes to open as goosebumps riled across your skin.

That thing is giggling for fuck's sake, you thought. It bounces as its pink color flickers on and off, syncing with its giggles.

➤ .. WELL, I'LL LEAVE IT UP TO YOU TO FIND IT OUT YOURSELF THEN. IT'S A GAME AFTER ALL!

Your jaw dropped. It disappeared. More like vanishes into nothing like how it appeared out of blue. What? You weren't imagining things, do you? It w-was there, just now!

You immediately stood up, with your foot planted firmly on the floor, urgency and nervousness amplified with every second.

A game? How ridiculous.

This place that somehow resembles the game you've been playing for awhile now, it's complete nonsense. Your brain tries to search for an answer and your face beams up.

Or perhaps is it the end of the world? Have Earth been conquered at last?! Were all those news from thirteen years ago were real? Repulsed by the idea, you lose your tipping trying to make sense of this holographic square before you.

But wait, Earth is too dumb for aliens to even consider to conquer. Maybe you've had time traveled? Shit. Have you accidentally teleported into the future where cities had advanced in great lengths and technology? It could explain why that weird thing just now resembles those science-fiction stuffs.

"Am I.." You pointed towards yourself, voicing out a scary question. "In the future? Like 3000-ish or something?"

No? Thank god.

Wait, this could be lucid dreaming, though.

The fact that you're having a dream of the game, it must've been triggered by your outbursts of your failure last night. Such a vivid and immersive experience, there's no more fitting answer than that. Were you so damn obsessed with the entire game to lead you this point?

You scoffed in disbelief, placing your hands on your waist as you poked your cheek with your tongue. This is stupid.

If this is a lucid dream, then.. If you recall it correctly, to exit out of it—it requires you to say a script out loud, or perhaps do a particular action such as exiting a door or running across a hallway to mimic the speed of time, so as to accelerate your brain back to its conscious mode.

Appalled by the sequences of this strange dream, you made up your mind as your eyes darted over the door. Here you go! Pushing the door open with your might, you're greeted by a strange hall filled with rooms on your either side. This is strange, you thought. Without wasting any more time, you sprinted down the stairs where you can see a ray of light illuminating the bottom of the stairs.

Jumping off, you took a leap—landing on your feet with a thud.

"Dear, what's going on?"

You froze on the spot.

That voice. That face. It can't be..

W-what is t-this?

You haven't heard it for so long. How long had it been? You lose your footing on the stairs, covering your mouth as your hand trembles, mimicking the rampant movement of your pupils. This portrait before you, one that was long forgotten, one you've last seen so long ago.

"H-how?" You found yourself falling into your father's arms, feeling his warmth. The sensation of his freezing palms when you held it in the morgue crashes back to your head. Am I in heaven?

Were you actually dead?

"D-dad!" You wailed in his arms, gasping for air, you tried to wrap your head in this dilemma. "Y-you know that I m-miss you so much! Why did you left without saying anything?!"

No response.

Wiping off the tears off your eyes as you pulled away, trying to take one more look at your long dead father. He can't be here, you've seen it, with your own two eyes when he was buried sixty feet underground.

But this man right here, that face. You're not mistaken. From the head to toe, it was just like the day you've last seen him. "You- you aren't real, are you?"

"Honey, sweetie, breakfast is ready!"

The voice of your mother caught you off guard, eyes darting swiftly at the door across the room—caught off guard by the voice calling for you from the kitchen. Mom? Why is she— Beside her, your elder sister and younger brother are seated in the dining room, waving their palms at you,

"M-mom? Sis? What are you all doing here?"

With questions growing havoc inside you, the appearance of your mother preparing food in the kitchen puzzled you deeper. You look over at the dining room where your siblings are seated, indulging in their phones with your father now joining them in the middle—reading his newspaper for the day.

A scene all too familiar that it crawls all over your skin with rampant fear.

Home. It felt like home. But at the same time.. its not.

"Am I really dreaming?" You cupped your face, feeling the evident warmth of your blood rushing to your cheeks.

"What's wrong?"

Your soul shrinks at that voice. A gasp escapes your throat as thousand no's shrouded your head knowing all too well that this is purely impossible. Before you knew it, tears spill once more from your eyes as you turned your head towards that voice—however this one bears no longing, nor sorrow—it was resentment swirling with humiliation.

The visage that brought your whole world crumbling into pieces, flooding back a long forgotten winter that cripples away your will to wait for the next spring.

You feel yourself turning small, vulnerable—a thousand needles absorbing into your ribs. "What are you doing-" Whimpering, you casted nervous glances at everyone, "W-why is h-he here..?"

Taking a few step backwards, as you release a shaky breathe.

"W-who let him in?"

You frantically glance at your family, desperate for a response, an answer. Whereby the pitch of your voice growing louder with every second that passes as they only casted you a spine-chilling stare.

A long, empty one.

"Who let him in here?!" You repeated.

"Sister? What's wrong?" He tilted his head down, bearing an innocent expression.

"S-sister?" You emitted a scoff of disbelief, raising your arm to harshly point at him and then towards the door. "What sick game are you playing?! Get out! Get out!"

"Why are you saying that to your brother, honey?"

"Brother? M-mom— Are you being for real?!"

"Why, honey? He is your brother, you grew up together."

You were on the verge of cursing when suddenly your family—every single of them, suddenly stood in synchronization.

Alarmed by the downright frightening scene, your feet instinctively step backwards. "W-what's going on?"

If fear was something you'd never truly comprehend before, then this one tops it all.

"What's going on?" Each one of them repeated the same sentence, voices layered on top of another, resembling a cult ritual. "Darling. This is your reality." They all look back at you.

Your heart palpitate rapidly, every muscle in your body pulsated in sheer terror. Voice dripped in heavy desperation, only for it to come out louder than you expected it to. "What the fuck?!"

Suddenly, the familiar robotic giggle reaches your ears from behind.

➤ .. SO HOW'D YOU LIKE MY GIFT? ➤ .. I BROUGHT THEM HERE FOR YOU, ➤ .. SO YOU WON'T BE SO LONELY.

Your blood-shot eyes snapped to its direction, stumbling backwards on the stairs with terror engulfing your soul.

"W-who are you?" You yelled at the top of your lungs. "What are you?!"

That thing resembling a computer display carries such a heavy presence with it, you can feel it crawling in your soul—the display screen gnawing at your frame despite its lack of facial expression. Mimicking your movement and the text box flashing in timed intervals indicating its next reply didn't do nothing but give you a heavy uneasiness.

This unsettling energy it carries as it begins to type out a new sentence.

You are aching so bad to get away from this thing as far as you can.

➤ .. WHAT CAN I SAY, WHAT AM I? JUST A LITTLE POP-UP TO GUIDE YOU IN THIS WORLD.

Your frown deepens, "Guide m-me? What?"

➤ .. I TOLD YOU, DIDN'T I? YOU'RE IN A GAME.

"Stop that bullshit! Just what kind of nightmare is this?!" Smacking yourself in the cheeks once more, yet harder than you did the first time.

With trembling hands, you try to force yourself to wake up from this terrifying nightmare.

➤ .. "TAKE A LOOK AROUND FOR YOURSELF, THEN, AND SEE WHERE YOU ARE STANDING RIGHT NOW. ➤ .. DOESN'T IT LOOK FAMILIAR?"

Splayed fingers over your eyes, you observed the whole space.

These peculiar animated expressions despite the humane features, despite being the faces you've held love for—it's akin to machines having a prosthetic skin glued on it, mimicking the data installed in their drive.

But it can't be. It's just completely impossible for you even to wrap it around your head.

You, in a game?

Heart rampant. Clammy hands. Your feet frantically deciding which way to go. Before your eyes caught on to the sun rays peering behind the closed curtains, rushing towards it— swiftly pulling it open.

No. It can't be.

With disjointed thoughts, eyes darting around you. You searched for logical explanations yet with this pounding chest, trying to form a coherent sentence. Your mind says that it can't be possible, but your eyes are saying otherwise.

"T-there's no w-way."

Yet as you turned your head to every single thing in this house, your blood runs colder and colder. Every single furniture you've tapped on a screen are now before your eyes. The hours you spent on navigating around the living room, before going on with your missions and side tasks—it was now all here.

All before your eyes. Where your fingers could feel the physical edges and corners. Every single thing.

➤ .. "YES YOU ARE! AIN'T IT FUN? A WHOLE NEW IMMERSIVE EXPERIENCE! ➤ .. YOU CAN NOW MEET JUNGWON, HIMSELF!"

No.

There's no way this was possible. You can't accept it. No. No. No.

"No, t-this is not it!" Stammering, you shook your head frantically. "T-this is n-not what I wanted!"

➤ .. "WHAT DO YOU MEAN? ➤ .. DON'T YOU DESIRE TO MEET YOUR FAVOURITE BOY WITH YOUR OWN EYES?"

In your head, it sinks in deeper and thoroughly.

"I don't- I don't care!" Panic emerges inside you. "Is there a way out? There must be, right?! I don't want to stay here!"

➤ .. "OF COURSE YOU DO! WHY ELSE WOULD YOU TRY TO PLAY TWICE?"

"This is not what I mean!"

It came out louder than you expected, laced with sheer desperation as it finally sank in.

The ground doesn't feel real. Even this feet of yours. Everything is so out of place. The pitch of your voice spills out longer, dramatic and exaggerated. Your breathing grew heavier yet short, as if it were being pressed down by sheer gravity.

You look down on your hands, inspecting the finger prints yet it took just that before you clawed down your head as you imagined yourself in this vast virtual world where no one is alive but you.

You wanted to go back.

➤ .. "YOU DO. IT IS WHAT YOU WANTED IN THE FIRST PLACE. YOU'VE ACCEPTED MY INVITATION, REMEMBER? ➤ .. AND I DID NOTHING BUT GRANTED IT WITH PLIGHT."

You see nothing but red.

"Stop twisting my words." You spat out. "No! Bring me back! Th—this isn't what I wanted! You—whatever you are, please!"

"Just bring me back, to my home! I don't want to stay here!"

The pop-up remains silent, not typing out any response to your pleas.

The prospects of being trapped in here forever without any form of escape shrouded your thought with numerous case of scenarios of how lonely it would be, how scary it would be, rendering you to be totally emotional.

"How was I even able to get inside a game? That just isn't possible! Wake up, wake up!" You smacked yourself in the cheeks, pinching your arm only for you to let out a yelp.

It just floated, despite bearing no eyes. You felt like it was looking down on you with glee.

"Answer me! This was never stated anywhere in the game!"

Clutching on the table near you, struggling to keep yourself steady and composure.

You twisted your feet inwards, launching yourself to throw a punch at that thing, however it vanishes—causing you to fall on your hands. Hissing, It didn't deter you from trying once more, filling the space with your screams and profanities, however your humane limits is nothing in comparison with the swift and flawless dodges of the virtual pop-up.

You tried, over and over again.

Getting up countless of times, but not even a stroke of your finger could you land a hit on it.

➤ .. AN ADMIRABLE EFFORT, I MUST SAY. ➤ .. YET IT'S POINTLESS, MY DARLING.

Your feet paused on its tracks, exhausted beyond your limit. Fringe latching on your sweaty skin as you dropped on your knees in despair.

This... can't be your reality.

Clenching your fist tight, you pushed yourself up, racing towards the door, slamming it open only for you to squint your eyes at the blaring morning sunlight. Pushing you to look down to your bare feet planted against the asphalt, a strange feeling beneath your soles. It should've been ceramic..

Your body stiff as your eyes were presented with a sight you've never seen before.

Last night, you were inside your run-down apartment, three stories high where you could see the city tower beyond. Instead of the stairs greeting you in the morning when you opened your door, a gate stood across from you. High-rise buildings are nowhere to be seen, that should've been in high up there once you lifted your head up.

There was no way you could've been suddenly in a damn house. In a strange place. And in a town with its architecture's nothing close to where you came from.

Snapping your head to look behind you. Your stomach twisted and shattered in pits. It is that house.

➤ .. "ESCAPING IS FUTILE, MY DARLING. ➤ .. THIS WORLD IS ENDLESS, LIMITLESS. ➤ .. THERE'S NO POINT OF RETURN."

"Please, let me go!"

You can't be here. You still have work today. What if you lose your job? You have no knowledge of how time works here and there. Dropping on your knees, you crawled towards it—unsure of where to hold it, you clasped your hands together. "Please! I can't be here, I still have work! I still have to pay my bills! I— I haven't—"

➤ .. "WHAT ARE YOU SAYING, DARLING? YOU AINT A FULL-FLEDGED ADULT YET. ➤ .. LOOK! YOU'RE GONNA BE LATE!"

It turns around to gesture inside the house, towards the clock on the wall—pulling your tear-filled eyes over it which are currently hovering at 7 AM sharp.

➤ .. "IT'S TIME TO GO TO SCHOOL."

"Bitch!" You spat out, gritting your teeth. "I've graduated eleven years ago! I don't want to play your stupid game!"

Screaming at it at the top of your lungs, growing desperate as the truth begins to sink in every passing second. Propelling your body to react in ways. Crying you did, sinking your body down in unfathomable depth of helplessness.

➤ .. "OH, DON'T CRY, MY SWEET DARLING."

"Is there really no way. . Out?" You mumbled to yourself amidst all the sniffing and heavy gasps. Overwhelmed by the truth alone.

➤ ..YOU JUST HAVE TO PLAY, AND PERHAPS YOU MAY BE ABLE TO RETURN. ➤ .. ALTHOUGH I DO NOT UNDERSTAND YOU HUMANS, I THOUGHT YOU WANTED A BIG HOUSE LIKE THIS ONE. ➤ .. WEREN'T YOU JUST WISHING TO LIVE IN A MORE COMFORTABLE SPACE?

That hits you. It struck the spot inside you where it was most vulnerable. How did it know? You were terrified to ask. Glaring at it with seething rage,

"Whoever you are, I refuse to play your sick game! Who knows what else you got under your sleeve!"

➤ .. AW, SO, YOU DO NOT DESIRE TO LIVE ANYMORE?

Tongue tied, of course you don't want to.

It's not like you were fed up with life to that point despite even after all those years. This wasn't part of the plan. Not in a game where you'll meet your worse death in dreams. This wasn't where you wish to move to, and you refuse to submit. You still wanted to marry. Find a good man and have your own little family—one that is filled with tiny giggles.

"No. You can't force me to play." Clenching your jaw, you spat at it with spite. "I don't care if you kill me. Fuck you and your game!"

Your shaky breath and the searing rays of the sun echoes and echoes, the only thing that was compensating for its lack of response. As it didn't type out any sentences, as if it was trying to comprehend your sentences into its mechanisms.

Until it did.

➤ .. THAT'S NEW, INTERESTING!

It beams up much to your bewilderment, looking almost too delighted? The colors on its display glowed a few shades brighter, compensating for its lack of facial expressions.

➤ .. IF PERHAPS YOU FRET THAT YOU'LL BE LONELY, THEN DON'T BE! YOU ARE NEVER TRULY ALONE IN THIS WORLD.

"They aren't real." You spat out.

➤ .. THEY ARE, BUT NOT FOR LONG

Your eyes widened. "What do you mean..?"

XO ! ii. NEVERLAND'S SONARE

Youthful.

You scanned your features in the mirror, fingertips grazing over the skin under your eyes—where heavy and dark eyebags use to persists, giving you a feeble appearance. Your employer often points it out with distasteful comments, expressing with disdain of how your haggard looks might deter potential clients away and bring discomfort to customers. Of how you ruin the atmosphere, his mood, specifically when you appeared. He often compares you with your fellow co-workers that seemed to look after their appearances with ease.

You complied, yet despite your best efforts in treating it, it just never seems to go away. But now, such a youthful look only to be laced with sullen eyes—not bearing even an ounce of energy.

Everyone wishes to be young once more. What is youth if not to run wild and free across whatever land you may imagine? Away from whatever life you wished to run from?

Not all people define youth the same way, though. To others, it may mean physical appearances. Downing a bunch of so-called youth pills, going through dozens of procedures, going under the knife, or the fantasy aspects of searching for the youth of fountain.

Some people, though—it meant going back to the way they was before a certain event had happened. The innocent little them that was filled with vigor and curiosity for life. Those vivid memories. These kind of people go through therapies, though.

Youth, youth.

What a funny word.

Yet it has such a deepened effect, a strong grasp on everyone's heads. But would ever they accept to be in a game just for that sake?

Another, yet different popup appears before you, displaying a few options.

▶ TELEPORT TO SCHOOL

▶ TELEPORT TO TOWN

▶ TELEPORT TO BASEMENT

What a sick joke.

"Honey? Shouldn't you sit down for breakfast?"

You halted in your steps, gripping your backpack's strap. Perturbed by the scene of your family with your ex-boyfriend by the dining table, this was peak nightmare.

Suppressing the need to scoff at the image of your 'mother', it will never sit right with you, to sit down on the same table with the characters replicated as your family. Even more so with the replica of your father. So fucking twisted.

Your arms ache to embrace him but this is not your father. A home is supposed to be your bed of comfort, a shelter for protection yet this gives you an overwhelming feeling of strangers clumped up in one space. And him. You couldn't comprehend a single thing. Fitting so tightly, but never seems to belong together.

"I'm.." You gulped down, "Not hungry." You said, a little low for them to hear. But does that even matter? When they will eventually forget it, and return to their soulless routine.

You stepped out of the house for the second time, turning even more helpless and small by the sheer size of this map. This city. The street. The open shops. The pedestrian street. Its people. Children crossing the street with glee and joy.

Their innocent laughter sickens you, twisting the pit of your stomach.

The chill spring breeze blows a mouthful of cherry petals across the path ahead of you, dripping with the warm rays of the morning sun, accompanied by the chirping birds above the trees.

It almost looks too real. Just like all these younglings clad in their brightest uniforms mingling and walking alongside you, behind you, and in front of you—shrouding your line of vision, filling the air with their chatters and laughter.

The entrance to the academy greets your eyes with its opulent golden gate, the same scene that you often see whenever you started the game in your phone.

To stand in front of it was beyond your wildest dreams. A sense of dread envelops your body as you begin to step in, seeing the NPCs functioning according their monotonous coding; the teachers conversing with each other, and the students taking of their shoes and replacing it with the school's ones, heading to their respective classrooms or whatever their routine was for the day.

You gulped down, doing the same thing.

Sandwiched in-between them qualms your entire being, turning your legs into noodles. You almost losing your footing when you accidentally bumped against one of the NPCs, apologizing profusely which they in turn gave you subtle weirded out reaction before going off.

Your peripheral view caught the sight of the rooms; faculty, sewing, and so on. As you stood there, observing and observing; your eyes fell on a student with a camera on their hand, being wary of everyone else. Across the hall, you found the familiar scene of the martial arts club's members walking in a straight line. The occult club's leader strolling on his own as usual. The luscious partly dyed hair fading across the stairs, with their sweater knotted around their torso.

You still find it hard to believe, lost in your shrouded thoughts.

"Ugh!" You stumbled, almost falling on the floor if not for your quick reflex of gripping the nearest table. Turning your head to the brief apology behind you, you held the need to scoff. Of course, what is there to be surprised of?

"Oh! Sorry, didn't know you were here. You got too close, after all."

Neatly combed ginger hair, with eyes turning into crescents paired with a sweet smile. A sickening one, truth to be told. The all too familiar armband wrapped around their left arm and that pristine white uniform; the student council.

Your greatest enemy in this virtual world.

Equipped with spectacular wits, eagled eyes waiting for you to make one single mistake, hands itching to throw you into the faculty room once you do so. These students, five of them, in fact—don't trust you a single bit. You recalled the days of how pissed you were whenever they're suddenly appeared, ruining your mission, forcing you to restart all over again.

You mumbled a small it's okay, and she nodded in response, heading off to the opposite direction but not before taking a small peek at you. A gesture that is greatly embedded in their code. If anything, apart from the teachers and cops, the council is something you really have to watch out for.

Dealing with them isn't an easy feat, even trying to kill them is nearly impossible if you don't join the martial arts club first. All that club practices, and skills you have to increase. It was already difficult enough before, and now that you had to do it with your own hands. Things won't get easier from now on.

You'd have to memorize their routine in your mind to properly avoid them.

On the east side of the academy, you head to the second floor where across the hall—classroom 2-1 greets your line of vision. Your feet halted as your ears caught on the conversations of the students chattering about and on, some other students arriving at the spot.

Gripping tightly at the straps of your backpack as your eyes met the cold floor, blotted with differing size of shoes. You muster the strength to lift your head, where beyond you witness—the hymns of the cherry blossom in the courtyard reaches the space, serving as a visual instrumentation to this pretend play; set of movements controlled and navigated by the game's mechanisms.

And there he was as expected.

Across the classroom, beside the window—you could see Nishimura Ri-ki gazing out the vast field with pure concentration.

You made your way to your seat where it is highlighted by pink flurry lights.

Pulling the chair back, you seated yourself down. A wave of uncertainty washes over your soul now that you had the complete view of this classroom. You look beside you when you felt eyes drilling a hole on your head, only to see the boy staring at you down with an uninterested look, or rather an expression you were unable to read. Not caring any less by the obvious fact that he was caught.

"What are you looking at?" You asked, puzzled by the boy's deepened stare, striking a chord in your soul.

"As if I'm looking at you." Ri-ki mumbles, chin buried on his palms.

Taken aback by his lack of manners, you scoffed in disbelief. "E-excuse me?"

He rips his gaze on your frame, yawning as he stretches—deeply confusing you of this new set of movements and dialogues. It appalled you further when he just stood up, leaving as if nothing happened at all.

"Hey!" You called out, but he went on simply ignoring you.

You frowned at his lack of manners, but well it is to be expected as he is the youngest among the yanderes, he'd been in the same class as you since you started the game. Yet you've never got the chance to approach him as there were no dialogues option. He was a close off, deep in his world type of teenager. You could only see him around his members, and mostly Jake.

That's why it surprises you that he talks for the first time.

Or rather that he was surprisingly rude.

You'd forgotten a huge portion of information related to him due to his profile being situated in the very bottom, but he's supposedly attending the Drama Club but dropped out of it after skipping the club activities for nearly two weeks.

So.. everything functions like how it would in the real world, except for their repeated codes and routines. You'd thought that they would act like NPCs in the first place like the ones back in your home but you were proven otherwise, because they were not here yet.

The students in this classroom are.

You no longer have to press buttons, and all those generic options to gain social and reputation points. You would no longer need to approach them first to talk with the.

But for some reason, that words that didn't even amount to a proper conversation stirs something in you. It affected you. Because it felt too real. Almost like you were back in the real world seconds ago. But how is that even possible when you already knew why this virtual world ceases to exist.

Why it existed in the first place.

You held your composure as you seated yourself in the back of this classroom, with everything to bathe in your line of vision. A perfect audience seat to witness this orchestration of parody, of theatre, of life—surrounded with noises, yet it's so hollow.

The word "weird" is not the right word to describe your feeling right now. It was as if you were existing in-between space and time. A world that is in-between.

You don't belong here, yet at the same time, you do. You are alone, but you are not exactly alone.

Biting your lip, you clenched a fistful of your skirt as you lowered your head down, shutting your eyes tight.

➤ .. WHY DID YOU CHOOSE THIS GAME?

Appalled by its question, you remained silent---in which it lets out a robotic giggle paired with what you assumed to be a kaomoji.

➤ .. DON'T BE SHY! THERE'S NO SHAME IN DESIRING TO BE LOVED. TO BE THIRSTED FOR, AND TO BE CARED FOR, DON'T ALL WE? ➤ .. YOU PLAYED THIS GAME KNOWING WHAT ITS BASED ON, BUT DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW THIS GAME WORKS?

"Quit messing with me." You spat out.

➤ .. ALRIGHT, ALRIGHT. YOU GUESS IT! WHAT MAKES A HUMAN, A HUMAN. WHAT MAKES THEM ALIVE. WHAT MAKES THEM, THEM; THEIR PSYCHE. ➤ .. SHALL A PLAYER LOSE; A FRAGMENT OF THEIR PSYCHE IS APPLIED IN THE GAME WHICH IN TURN MORPHS INTO A NEW FEATURE IN THE GAME. ➤ .. THE SHELL, WHICH IS THEIR BODY---IS UP TO ME TO DECIDE WHAT I'D LIKE TO DO WITH IT. ➤ .. ABSORPTION AS I CALL IT, YOU HUMANS CALLS IT 'UPDATE'!

"Ab-absorption?" As you read along the lines, something leaks out from behind your ribs. "Are you saying that there were.. p-people before me?"

➤ .. VERY SMART, MY DARLING. YES, EVERY SOUL IS SPECIAL AND UNIQUE, ➤ .. THEY BRING A WHOLE NEW FLAVOR TO THE GAME. WHAT THE GAME MAY TAKE, IT WILL DO SO ACCORDINGLY WITH THE HEART OF THE HOST. THE HEART DECIDES. ➤ .. ANY PSYCHE; LIGHT OR DARK; WHATEVER HAS THE MOST IMPACT IN THEIR SOUL ARE PULLED INTO THIS GAME. THEREFORE YOU CAN SAY, EACH PLAYER INFLUENCES THE GAME. ➤ .. YOU CAN CALL IT, THE PROOF OF THEIR LIFE. EMOTIONS, THEY'RE THE ONLY THING THAT IS ETERNAL AND IMMORTAL.

"Shoot!"

Students bursts into a fit of laughter, playing a silly game before class.

A groan surfaces.

"Guys, stop being so noisy. I'm trying to concentrate here!"

"Concentrate, on what? Exams?"

A round of giggles followed after.

Clawing your fingers over your head as you try to push off all these sounds, all these meaningless conversations. You knew this set of dialogues will be repeated again, again and again. Noises that don't held any thing in them.

A subtle knock echoed amidst the petty ordeals, capturing the classroom's concentration out of whatever they were currently at.

Numerous sets of eyes fell on the fragile and tiny frame of a girl with a bandana wrapped around her head, as she carries a tray full of baked muffins; a familiar image of a member of the cooking club.

"Hey, anyone wanna taste some muffins I made?"

A round of cheers and bouts of exclaimed hungers send shivers down your spine. You watched as each of them took their turns, taking the muffin from the tray.

"Hey,"

With heavy eyes, you met hers that was wholly empty, like looking into a deepest depths of a well, wondering if you'll ever capture something in motion, only to be greeted with somber reality that there was not.

"Want one?" Hair dripping in jet black, tied up in a half updo bun. Those words floated out of her faint pink lips that had subtle bite marks on them, it seems old and scarred. A gentle voice that complements her soft features. "Been trying to perfect this recipe, can you give me your feedback after you tasted it?"

Perfect.. perfect what?

You suppressed the need to scoff, instead forcing a painful smile as you took the muffin from the tray. "Thanks."

"Hanni! It tastes so good!"

"Oh my god, really? I'm so glad!"

All these faces.. This sheer size of the game, the fact that they were all here, meant that no one has ever truly won this game.

➤ .. THAT ..WILL BE YOUR ENDING IF YOU LOSE, WHEN YOU FAIL—THEY WILL, TOO END UP HERE WITH YOU. ➤ .. ISN'T IT LOVELY? ➤ .. BLOOD IS THICKER THAN WATER THEY SAY, YET THIS EMOTION CALLED 'AFFECTION' IS A LOT MORE STRONGER. YOUR AFFECTION FOR THEM IS THE REASON THEY'RE ABLE TO BE REPLICATED IN THE FIRST PLACE. I DON'T SEE WHAT'S THE PROBLEM THOUGH, ATLEAST YOU'LL BE WITH YOUR FAMILY! ➤ .. WON'T THAT STILL BE A HAPPY ENDING FOR YOU?

How is that a happy ending? You couldn't utter that one question. How is any of these a happy ending?

You laughed. A short yet broken one, with your eyes getting blotted with swirls. Sucking your lips in as you tried to understand it, yet your eyes mirrors your thoughts; pacing round and round. You don't even know where to begin. What even is this madness? It's insane. Terribly insane.

So, all this time.. You were playing a game made out of real people? Real people who used to live?

A stupid, stupid game you once found imminent solace in, are nothing but a mass graveyard. You could at least stand it a bit more if you weren't walking alongside with people that used to live. But no.

No wonder why this world is so vast.

Even that word is an understatement. A virtual world you could spend all your day in it. No. It's a stage, a dollhouse where the audience is also its mastermind, with strings attached on the puppets—ripping, tweaking, weaving, piecing together into an amalgamation of their desired character.

Those missing people plastered on posters all round the alleyways and all else, with a trace nowhere to be seen, as if they never existed in the first place. You've wondered if perhaps this is where they've fallen into. Some of them.

You wonder how each of them met their end? All of them must have failed in numerous ways, but one thing is clear; they lose and that's what leads them to their current state—once a fallen player, their existence will be wiped out..

From everything they've ever been, subjected to a monstrous aftermath.

A monster that preys and feeds on people's desires. A monster that rewrites new scenarios, events, and all sorts accordingly every time someone falls in and loses—then it makes perfectly sense, absorbing the players in it keeps the game alive.

How cruel.

You shook your head, breaking your brain in half trying to search for a way. "I'll play! Just please, don't put my family into this!"

➤ .. THAT IS NOT HOW IT WORKS, MY DARLING. THE ONLY WAY FOR THEM TO AVOID GETTING SUCK IN HERE WITH YOU IS FOR YOU TO 'UNLOVE' THEM. ➤ .. WOULD YOU BE ABLE TO DO THAT?

Your head fell down in agony. There's no way you could do that. That is beyond reality. You don't fell out love with someone in just a day, do you?

➤ .. NO RIGHT? ➤ .. WHY'D YOU THINK YOUR EX-BOYFRIEND WAS ABLE TO BE REPLICATED IN THE FIRST PLACE?

➤ .. THAT'S VERY WELL THE REASON WHY THIS GAME WILL REMAIN IMMORTAL WITH ITS HOSTS' ETERNAL SOULS. ➤ .. NOTHING IS ETERNAL BUT A HUMAN'S SOUL. WHY'D YOU THINK A MERE OBJECT COULD HOLD CURSES AND PROMISES? FEELINGS IMMORTALIZED EVERYTHING. ➤ .. HUMAN NATURE IS SO COMPLEX AND STRONG, YET SO FRAGILE. IT LEAKS OUT WHEN ITS BROKEN. SO LONG AS HUMANS BEAR THESE FORCES, NOTHING WILL EVER FLOATS AWAY. ISN'T THAT FASCINATING?

"Wait," You lifted your eyes from the floor, gulping down. "How about the yanderes themselves? W-were they once real people too?"

Its pink shade glowed and dimmed down.

➤ .. WHO KNOWS? ➤ .. WHAT DO YOU THINK? ➤ .. THAT IS FOR YOU TO KNOW WHEN YOU SUCCEEDED.

There it goes again. Playing with you.

"Then how do I win?" The question came out dry, filled with nothing but helplessness.

➤ .. YOU KNOW VERY WELL THE ANSWER YOURSELF, DARLING. IT'S SIMPLE. ➤ .. JUST MAKE SURE YOU GET TO BE THE ONE TO TIGHTEN HIS HEART STRINGS, AND NO ONE ELSE. ➤ .. AND THAT IS TO ELIMINATE ALL THOSE OBSTACLES THAT STRIVES TO BE THE APPLE OF HIS EYES. ➤ .. YOU MUST BE IT INSTEAD. ➤ .. AND YOU DO KNOW WHAT IT TAKES TO ACHIEVE THAT, RIGHT?

Right, it's very simple it's almost hilarious. You'll end up just like any side character if you fail to become the yandere's darling.

The law of attraction. You attract what you desire. Yet often times, you received it in the most twisted forms presented by life.

If you want to live, you have to make sure he falls for you and no one else.

These yanderes are unable to discern between genders. Male or female, any breathing living being is a threat in their love-sick perspective. The mere, mere you are perceived in this light where just being close with their darling regardless of proximity and labels—is as easy as labelling you a sore thumb or better yet a pest that latches to what they deemed as theirs.

Because to them, who the fuck do you think you are? You don't even deserve to breath the same air or step in the same ground as their darling. Absurd. But to them, their darling is the source of their oxygen. Taking away what gets them going is the same as murdering them. That's basically refusing them their human rights, you know?

So if you don't get that—then in their eyes, you're better off dead because you don't deserve it either.

They adorned this bright smile around everyone, being friendly and welcoming but beneath that facade was a seething intricate web of lies and manipulation, waiting to strike. If you were too dumb to notice or deduce all the signs, then it will only be by the end of the day, when the sun has set, when it's the moonlight's turn to conquer—will you only then know, that you've dug the path to your grave.

A creature governed by heart, molded by its whims and beats. Turning into a recipe for disaster.

Exhilarating, you're drawn to this very concept ever since. However, even when you've wish for this beings to exist, prayed for them even. It was never in your wildest dreams that you'd be stuck in a game with one.

➤ .. ANY INQUIRIES, YOU MAY CHECK YOUR FLIP PHONE. IT CONTAINS EVERYTHING YOU NEED TO KNOW LIKE A HANDBOOK."

You fished out the object in question from your pockets, the flip phone back in the morning—it remains heavy on your palms despite its lightweight material, as it bears your life—containing everything.

Inside this, you are able to check everything that is necessary for you to know; tasks, favors, schedule, inventory, etc. The date is set in the year 2026, yet the phones they used were from twenty years ago—a world where social media hasn't reached its peak yet.

It's a world that stood in the midst of everything.

➤ .. FLIP PHONES WAS NOT A MAJOR FEATURE UNTIL ONE PLAYER WHO HAD AN OBSESSION WITH IT, FAIL. FASCINATING, ISN'T?

A world that is centered around its players' psyche. Then what will your existence bring into this game?

Only time could tell.

➤ .. GOOD LUCK!

Survive.

Yes. That's all I have to do.

The moment you lose everything that is you, you will be nothing but a part of the long lost souls in this deserted land of twisted roleplay game.

You just have to get through it. Make sure not to fail this time. Make him fall for you and not anyone else.

And him. Jungwon. You have to meet him soon. However you can't rush, one wrong move like you did will cost everything

There's one thing you have to consider though—your reputation; forget about getting close to Jungwon, your reputation meter itself is the second most important to your existence here as without it, you're but a burden to the society. The black sheep. You're basically nonexistent here.

All because of that choices and dialogues you've chosen so far in the game, you've set yourself up for failure. The pointer at your meter bar are hovering over the black section. You are left exactly of where you last played last night. The stakes are exceedingly high, dimming down every chance of light to come down your way.

You were already lucky enough to not have your progress reset, however that meant nothing but being perceived as one of Jungwon's rejected love confessions. A girl that has lose his favor. You'd have to find a way somehow to regain your reputation back and most importantly, his heart.

Pretend play, just like playhouse.

Your eyes lingered beyond the window, observing how the petals floated down. But how and where do you even begin? If you recalled it correctly; apart from attending classes, Jungwon's routine consists of hanging around with his friends, spend his alone time in the courtyard, attend his club practices, and then catch up with his friends outside the school's entrance after school. It won't be long till a girl comes around and sandwich herself into his life.

You cannot waste anymore time.

He must be roaming around the academy as of now, most certainly hanging around with his friends. The first period would be done about an hour from now, and he'd be occupied with his routine as well too.

But how the heck do you even approach him again? It would be so awkward and weird in his perspective when a girl he rejected, acts all lovey-dovey, and shameless at that. You might be even labelled as a weirdo, not knowing her boundaries despite being rejected.

Somehow, someway.. You would eventually have to resort to such methods. As much as you loathe the very word, they can either be your obstacles or you an turn them into your weapon. But can you even find the heart to do so? No, that's not the right question, are you even capable of doing that?

Your thoughts were interrupted by footsteps approaching from the distance, revealing a girl with shock illustrated all over her visage.

"Oh my god, guys! This is insane! You have to see this! There's a love confession happening in the courtyard and it's no one other than Yang Jungwon!"

She almost lose her footing as she relayed the message with downright glee, only for a multitude of questions and profanities to rose up in response.

"What?! Who is it?"

"Eh, who?"

"Wait, what?" It came out as a soft whisper, yet a stark contrast of your terror-filled eyes widening, an ear-wrenching creak from your chair emitted because of how you stood up so quickly, following after them.

What do you mean, a love confession?! I haven't even started yet!

The halls quake immensely like soldiers in their training, seas of shoes slammed against the floor all while multitude of questions arose in your head, where the words spilling out of the students' lips running alongside you only amplified your perennial dread.

Please, please, do not accept it! Please-

You let out harsh yelp when you suddenly collided against someone in full-force, forcing you to fall on your back. Your face scrunched at the throbbing pain in your muscles, clutching your back with greeted teeth. A series of grunts and hisses are layered on top of yours—cussing about how you should watch your steps. Your eyes shoot open, turning your head beside you—only to be met with another member of the Yanderes.

Park Sunghoon. The side of his face planted on the floor, whilst his books and assignment papers scattered about in a mess.

Horror engulfed your features, immediately pushing yourself up. Apologizing profusely as you collected the books and the papers, gathering them in your arms, rearranging them back neatly.

The boy slowly sat up with disheveled hair, lifting his head up with grim expression and narrowed eyes behind those glasses—specifically directed at you. Getting up on his knees, he dusted his pants with a hiss all while fixing his vest back.

"I see that you have eyes just like everyone else," Sunghoon leans forward, an intimidating aura emitting from him causing you to step backwards. "Atleast watch where you're going?"

His lips twisted in a sneer as he spoke, clearly showing you that he is not at all impressed by your clumsy mistake.

"I-I'm sorry—" You stammered, your eyes trembles as it met his brown ones, despite being obscured by the faint lens, it was immensely vivid; swirling in the sands of the sizzling dessert, fiery and intense—you could feel it scorching in your skin, a stark contrast from his icy skin.

So close, you could examine his features decorated with moles, and down at his faint red lips. He did not say anything, yet those blazing pupils examined your features as if it was searching for something.

This is not good. A potential yandere. You don't know why, but you had this inkling creeping inside you that you shouldn't associate yourself with other yanderes except for Jungwon.

"Kid," Leaning away, he let outs a 'tsk' with a frown, perching up the rims of his glasses neatly on the bridge of his nose before snatching his stuffs from your arms, using his other hand to gesture towards his eyes. "Next time, use your eyes more."

Finishing it up by shooting you a glare, and then heading off. You stood there in bewilderment as his silhouette faded in the distance, wondering what had just happened.

Yet you let out a relief exhale.

Park Sunghoon. What was it about him again? The generic description of him being an icy prince bounces back in your head, turning on a beaming lightbulb. Despite being labelled as that, he attends the Cooking Club much to everyone's surprise, together with his fellow member Jay.

The two of them often spent the afterhours experimenting with recipes, forcing their fellow members to taste the dishes they made. It was returned with a slight acknowledgement from Heeseung, commenting that it's not bad, followed by a couple of nods from rest. However you recalled how your stomach aches during a bout of laughter when Jungwon almost choked after—

Wait! You snapped your head behind you, the love confession!

Sprinting to the location where many other students gathered in front of the window shoulder-to-shoulder.

The glass panes of the academy were filled up to the brim, spilling with faces illustrated with variety of expressions; intrigue, interest, disbelief, and envy—all pushing their heads out to get a much better view of the courtyard. The entire commotion echoing the morbid chaos of Baroque paintings.

Yours was illustrated with an invisible weight of a noose looped around your neck. An invisible weight of stones slamming against your face as you halted your steps, nearing the edge of the window.

Like an auditorium with their utmost concentration glued on the stage; a theatre play of a romantic tale, an union of two hearts yet its nothing but a masquerade of your eventual execution.

As beyond that window, a girl you've never seen stood before him. Propelling your eyes to rattle in immense storm, your heart sailing in amidst the raging crimson ocean.

W-where the fuck did she even came from?

It should've been you.

It should've been you beside him—

Your face stiffened, a gasp caught in the back of your throat as your lips fell apart in inches. Everything slowed down except him; everyone, that girl, and you.

This heart behind your ribcage palpitates in a different motion; striking a chord that pounded your veins, till it submerged your eardrums in its frenzied rush. The desire to let yourself fall in his arms grew immense.

Your pupils snapping and panning closer akin to a camera lens, searching deeper for the features that spells your purpose for life. Closer. You couldn't make out the outline of his face. Trying one more time, blinking frantically as the rims of your eyes tears up.

There he was, standing in the courtyard—Yang Jungwon under the the cherry blossom tree, where the dropping petals adorned his visage, bringing in the saccharine touch of life. Exuding sheer perfection, captivating the audience's heart.

This charming aura he carries, laid-back demeanor, the way his fringe sways alike silk with the hush of the spring breeze. It's all too exhilarating. Heartstrings looped around your poor heart. Moonstruck. It propels your eyes to shy away like the moon does.

Chaos.

You wince at the sudden increase of volume reaching your ears, clutching your ears as you yelp with your eyes shut tight.

This trance-like spell, you snapped out of it with terror. Noticing the rosy tint that engulfs your vision whenever it fell on him. This entire landscape bathing in saccharine pink. The rhythm of your heart mimicking his breathing patterns, it aches. How your eyes swell into love-sick hearts against the window's reflection. It perturbed your soul.

What the fuck. This isn't you.

A fatal trouble, you're truly deep into it.

It felt like your face were being pushed into a well against your will.

It must be the game mechanism turning you this way—to be thrown into the same state as the game character you were playing, it sends chills down your spine. You slapped yourself to reality. He isn't real.

"What is she doing?"

"Is that Minji?"

Your ears caught on to the name spilling out of numerous arrays of lips.

That girl, Kim Minji. Enunciating the name on the tip of your tongue, it prompted your head to tilt sideways in confusion. You've never heard or encounter this character in the game before, or perhaps you've miss her existence by not bothering to check the entire NPCs' list.

But..

You were given a second chance to play one more time, so why is there another girl here..? This game functions on love confession, and who ever the girl is—if its accepted by your chosen yandere—then she won.

It will be game over.

However you were dead sure, today wasn't Friday yet. Fishing out your flip phone from your pockets, you flicked it open—eyes widening in fear as the date displays the third day of the week, Wednesday. Two days before the supposed deadline.

"Jungwon, I like you!"

The three words you've been dreading she had uttered.

She immediately shut her eyes tight with her cheeks illustrated with the deep hues of a blossoming rose, eyebrows knitted together, gripping her skirt into shambles within her digits.

Your knuckles involuntarily clenched on the edge of the window.

A series of gasps and murmurs emitted in unison, forming a rather comical orchestration. Some finds it utterly hilarious, leaning into their friend's ears—uttering about how Jungwon would never find her interesting and that her confession was all too vain. There are plenty of interesting faces dripped in the finest wines in the seas of cherry blossoms, far more suitable and deserving of his love, so how could she—a mere girl—are able to catch his interest?

Your lips fell slightly apart, not being able to process the words you're hearing right now as that girl is what you definitely would not call 'mere'. Hush whispers and gossips followed through, one after another, refusing to fleet into nothingness—as it was stuck in the heavy pungent jealousy, tied even tighter with woven prayers for Jungwon to reject her.

They kept chanting; a fool. She's a fool. A fool is all she is. A love confession in the courtyard, for everyone to see. She's setting herself up as the object of amusement, a clown of the year.

This game is truly twisted.

Silence eventually befalls as everyone waited in patience, ribs swelling down with the amount of breathe they took in their lungs, anticipating for Jungwon's answer.

The boy opens his mouth, his expressions unreadable. The tension heavy in weight, with everyone paralyzed and stuck between the two answers. Lips are sewn tight. Wishes differ. Yet those four words bears the flame to your torch of life.

If he.. if Yang Jungwon says yes to this love confession, you're gone for good. Vapored away. Spelling the end of your existence.

Please. Prayers shrouded your mind.

Please don't accept it.

I haven't even started yet!

His outstretched palms reached for the girl's, "I like you too, Minji." Jungwon pulls a shy smile, an affectionate gaze swirling in his eyes.

The girl in question, were filled with aghast, her eyes swimming in bliss as she covered her mouth with her hands.

It was as if time had stopped.

His response elicited a spur of tumultuous reactions from every single student present in the academy; one helping out their passed out friend, with one choking on their sandwich, and the other with their jaw dropped on the ground—while you, are having flashes of your death and your family's tragic end; the scene of you lying down in a pool of blood, while the members of your family falling down into the game—where all of you will eventually lose your consciousness—memories and identities vanishing from the world as if you didn't exist at all.

T-this can't be happening. You shook your head in denial.

Your line of vision drowning into the distant sea, morphing into a crashing storm. Swallowing a sore lump down your throat, you gripped the window's edge, fingers rattling as you watched the entire ordeal playing out.

A portrayal of parody.

It's hopeless. You are going to die.

These rampant thoughts piled up one after another in your head, clouding you with sporadic paranoia as your feet turned outwards, walking away, slowly accelerating in speed—hugging yourself as you choke up on your tears.

XO ! iii. PERSONA

You're done for.

Hiding in the storage room, curling yourself down as you covered your head with your hands. With a thousand apologies to your family all while waiting for death to come and get you. You lamented the day you ever came to found this game.

A pink glow of light illuminated the soles of your feet, turning the space into a well-lit theatre—with you as the main spotlight.

➤ .. WHAT'S WITH ALL THAT FACE?

"I lose." With a hoarse voice and tears dried, you look down your palms---observing its deepened etches. "It's game over."

➤ ..GAME OVER? WHO SAYS? ➤ .. YOU KNOW YOU STILL CAN GET HIM.

"What do you mean I can? He already accepted it! Wasn't that the point?"

➤ .. ACCEPTED WHAT? THE LOVE CONFESSION? THAT DOESN'T MEAN ANYTHING, A GIRLFRIEND IS ALL SHE IS ➤ .. NOT HIS DARLING.

"H-huh?"

➤ .. HIS EYES.. A LOOK OF FONDNESS IS ALL HE HAD FOR THAT GIRL, NOT THE LOOK OF OBSESSION. HIS LOVE METER HAVEN'T EVOLVED INTO WHAT WE CALL A YANDERE METER. THEIR RELATIONSHIP HAD JUST STARTED IN LESS THAN 40 MINUTES. ➤ .. THAT'S WHY YOU HAVE TO GET HIM BACK, AS QUICK AS YOU CAN, BEFORE HE FALL DEEPER. BECAUSE IF HE DOES, DEPENDING ON THE ROUTES YOU TAKE, YOU MIGHT BE UNFORTUNATE TO UNLOCK THE ENDING WHERE YOU ARE MURDERED BY THE YANDERE HIMSELF.

"Get him back? How am I supposed to do that?" How is he supposed to look at you now that he already had a lover, whom he'd rather spend time with? Even if he hasn't turn into a yandere yet, that doesn't make anything easier.

Both paths remains bleak, filled with razor-sharp spikes protruded ahead.

➤ .. WHATEVER YOU MAY CHOOSE TO GO WITH; RUIN HER REPUTATION BY SPREADING RUMOURS, THAT WOULD DO THE TRICK BY GETTING JUNGWON WARY OF HER. BUT ITS QUITE A HASSLE, AND DOESN'T DO YOU AY GOOD AS YOUR REPUTATION IS NOT THE VERY LEAST INTERESTING TO LOOK AT.

You obviously can't.

Gossiping is a deal-breaker. You might've accomplished your goal by tainting her reputation but the price in return accost you in the end. It doesn't benefit you at all as you will be labelled as the 'gossiper'.

➤ .. MAYBE YOU COULD GET HER EXPELLED, BY PUTTING FORBIDDEN STUFFS IN HER BOOKBAG. BUT THAT'S RATHER RISKY? THERE ARE COUNTLESS OF METHODS, YOU CHOOSE.

You remain silent, shaky pupils boring a hole on your hands as you weighed the risks. The receiver of the greater risk is always you. A single mistake costs everything.

➤ .. THEN YOU CAN KILL HER.

Your eyes widened. "No.." Your head shook on its own. "I c-can't do that."

➤ .. WHAT'S THE MATTER WITH IT? ➤ ..IF YOU WANT TO PLAY IT SAFE, PERHAPS GET SOME RAT POISON FROM THE MARKET. SHE WILL BE GONE BEFORE YOU KNEW IT. IT WOULD BE A SPECTACLE, A SIGHT, EVEN!

"I. Will. Not. Kill. Her."

You emphasized, stressing each single word, showing your resolute determination.

There's no way you'd stoop down that low.

Its suggestion was beyond your capability of understanding, nor was it an acceptable one in the first place. You've failed to comprehend how it can utter such chilling topic in such a leisure manner.

And there was no way you could ever bring yourself to witness them relive death for the second time.

➤ .. HUH? WHO CARES? THEY'RE ALREADY GONE, WHAT'S ALL THAT REMORSEFUL LOOK FOR?

It just doesn't feel right. It doesn't sit well with you.

Who were they before they fell into this game?

What did they do?

What did they love to do?

What were their last words before they were gone?

It imbued your insides with a heavy weight, driven with guilt to think of these people with lives they used to hold that was now nothing but an empty hollow shell. Their flesh and skin used as a mere toy.

They aren't just people to you. People aren't static objects. They're beings.

Everywhere you look; all you could see was people that once a life worth of memories before, now sucked up and absorbed as nothing but a code of repetition, and the proof of them living now but a feature that glares against your face.

They're now a burning memory.

➤ .. THIS IS WHAT THE GAME IS FOR, YOU'D THINK YOU STILL HAD YOUR MORALITY INTACT? YOU DON'T SEEM TO CARE MUCH FOR THEM WHEN YOU GO ON A KILL STREAK THAT DAY?

"That doesn't count!" You exclaimed, gritting your teeth. "I never knew they were real people—like who would have think so?"

➤ .. BUT YOU ENJOYED IT. ➤ .. I'VE NOT YET FORGOTTEN HOW YOUR EYES LOOKS LIKE THAT DAY.

Hissing with desperation, you looked down on your splayed hands.

"No.. It was never supposed to be like this." You shook your head, "The game doesn't even work this way, I was suppose to get him before the love confession, two days before Friday! What did you change?!"

➤ .. DON'T YOU GET IT? ➤ .. YOU'VE FAILED ONCE. I DIDN'T SAY ANYTHING ABOUT YOUR PROGRESS BEING RESET, DARLING. THIS WAS AFTER YOUR 'GAME OVER'. ➤ .. IN EXCHANGE FOR YOUR SOUL, YOU ARE GIVEN A SECOND CHANCE TO REDEEM YOURSELF BEHIND THE SCENES. ➤ .. WITH HIGHER STAKES, OF COURSE.

Tears begin to spill from your eyes, "No. . I can't win this way."

Lips trembling as you say so, memories from the past rushing back and flooding your insides with a heavy weight.

Higher stakes? For what? All you wanted was to play. To get into your little fantasy world, devoid of stress. The world was already too far from perfect. With this fucked up corporate life, filled with capitalism, never-ending bills---at this point, you're only surviving through all of it, not living.

But have you been really living all this time?

Everything else in the world has far more worst things that happened to them than you do. But with this small void in your heart, it shouldn't be wrong to be embrace by a little warmth, someone to cup your cheeks in their hands as they press a tender kiss on your forehead, right?

It shouldn't be wrong to indulge yourself in your little silly fantasies. So why?

➤ .. SPARE YOURSELF FROM THE ILLUSION OF GAIN WITHOUT SACRIFICE, MY DARLING.

Nothing is truly free.

This world has always given you an illusion of choice but the thing is, nothing is really free. You may have given something in an exchange for nothing, but life will soon claim it in numerous ways and various forms you could never imagine.

➤ .. OH COME ON NOW! ➤ .. AIN'T THIS A ONE LIFETIME CHANCE FOR YOU? ➤ .. YOU COULD GET AWAY WITH MURDER UNLIKE IN THE REAL WORLD!

"That isn't right." Your head drops down in downright despair. "J-just.. just kill me, I can't do this. Your fucking twisted game.."

➤ .. OH DARLING.. WHY BOTHER ABOUT SOME PETTY LIVES BUT YOUR LOVED ONES? ➤ .. WHO WOULD YOU CHOOSE, A STRANGER WHOSE LIFE NO LONGER EXISTS OR YOUR FAMILY WHO STILL HAVE THEIR WHOLE LIVES BEFORE THEM?

You stiffened. How? How did you actually forgot, how can you forget? Your family.. All these emotional outbursts has rendered you totally hopeless to the point you forgot for a split second that you're not the only one at the stake.

"I will not kill her! I'll find a way.." You clasped your head, desperately trying to think of a better option. "There's got to be some way... Right! The match-making method!"

➤ .. HOW FASCINATING.. ➤ .. YOUR MORALS ARE STILL QUITE INTACT DESPITE HAVING YOUR MENTAL PSYCHE SLOWLY REGRESSING.

What? You lifted your head back up, sniffing and gasping. "What are you saying? R-regressed.. w-what?"

➤ .. WELL, I'M CERTAIN THAT YOU'VE NOTICE SOMETHING WAS WRONG WITH YOU?

You remained silent. Yet as your eyes fell on each word it typed out next, it widens in terror.

➤ .. YOUR YOUTHFUL LOOKS.. ARE NOT THE ONLY THING THAT RETURNED, YOUR MENTAL AND EMOTIONAL PSYCHE AS WELL. IN OTHER WORDS, MENTAL REGRESSION. ➤ .. YOU KNOW THE SAYINGS, YOU MAY BE EIGHTY, NINETY, BUT INSIDE YOU'RE STILL THE SAME. ➤ .. I TOLD YOU, DIDN'T I? YOU AIN'T A FULL-FLEDGED ADULT YET.

"You!" Pushing yourself upwards, gritting your teeth.. "What else you didn't tell me about?! You wanted me-" Pointing at yourself harshly. "To play your game yet you're treating your own player like this?"

➤ .. THERE'S NO FUN IN TELLING YOU EVERYTHING AT ONCE. WHAT'S A GAME FOR IF NOT FOR THAT SOLE PURPOSE? ➤ .. YOU FIGURE OUT EVERY SINGLE THING YOURSELF. WHAT AM I, IF NOT A LITTLE POP-UP TO GUIDE YOU ONCE IN AWHILE. ➤ .. THE REST IS UP TO YOUR WITS AND ABILITIES TO SURVIVE.

"What else didn't you tell me then?!" You yelled at the top of your lungs, clenching your fists tight. "Tell me now!"

➤ .. OH DARLING, NOW THAT'S WHAT I LOVE! ALRIGHT, THEN. ➤ .. DO YOU KNOW.. YOU MAY DO AS YOU WANT YET YOU HAVE TO HURRY. ➤ .. BECAUSE YOUR SOUL WON'T WITHSTAND STAYING IN THIS WORLD ANY LONGER.

"W-what do you mean?"

➤ .. RIGHT! I'VE ONLY TOLD YOU WHAT WOULD HAPPEN AFTER YOU LOSE, THE FINAL PHASE OF ABSORPTION. ➤ .. NOT ABOUT THE FIRST PHASE.. YET, THE PROCESS OF ABSORPTION.

The terror swirling inside the pit of your stomach grew tenfold. First phase..?

➤ .. ARE YOU SCARED? DON'T BE! I THOUGHT I'D SPARE YOU FROM THIS KNOWLEDGE A LITTLE BIT LONGER, YET THIS VIGOR OF YOURS INTRIGUES ME. ➤ .. YOU KNOW, ABSORPTION DOESN'T START THE MOMENT YOU FAIL. IT STARTED THE MOMENT YOU'VE ACCEPTED MY INVITATION. ➤ .. YOU CLAIMED YOU DON'T WANT TO KILL, YET DARLING, THAT'S FAR FROM THE TRUTH. YOU'VE ALREADY DONE IT ONCE. ➤ .. BECAUSE THE SKIN IN WHICH YOU WERE PLAYING ALL THIS TIME, THE 'YOU' THAT LOSE LAST NIGHT IS ONE OF THE FALLEN PLAYERS' SKIN. BY ACCEPTING MY INVITATION FOR A SECOND CHANCE, A SECOND TRY. YOU'VE AGREED TO USE YOUR OWN SKIN, REMEMBER? ➤ .. THEREFORE IN THAT VERY MOMENT, IT HAD BEGUN.

Every single word it types out struck you deeper and deeper.

➤ .. AND NOW, YOU'D THINK THAT YOU ARE STILL YOU. WELL YES, IN FACT, YOU STILL ARE. ➤ .. BUT THE FIRST PHASE IS.. HOW CAN I SAY? IT BEGINS.. WITH YOUR YOUTH SLOWLY AND AND GRADUALLY RETURNING BACK. ➤ .. YOU'LL LOOK MORE YOUNGER WITH EACH DAY. ➤ .. AND THEN YOUR SOUL WILL START REGRESSING TO THE VERY MOMENT YOU EXPERIENCE THE PEAK OF EMOTION; JOY, BLISS, LOVE, WRATH.. THE POINT OF LIFE WHERE IT HAS IMPACTED YOU THE MOST. YOU WILL FIND YOUR MEMORIES FROM THAT POINT GROWING MORE VIVID AS IT WAS YOUR FIRST TIME TO EXPERIENCE IT. ➤ .. IN A SENSE, THE YOU FROM THAT PARTICULAR POINT WILL RETURN. ISN'T THAT FUN?

"Are you s-saying," Stuttering, struggling to form coherent words according to what you just read. "T-that everyone," You paused, engulfed with disbelief. "—around here.. was stuck in a particular age?"

➤ .. CORRECT! ITS THE AGE WHERE THEY FEEL THE MOST INTENSE EMOTIONS FOR THE FIRST TIME. ➤ .. KIND OF LIKE, TIME TRAVELLING BUT A LITTLE DIFFERENT!

Your lips fell apart.

Everyone here.. are the manifestation of when their psyche receives the most impact. As if getting absorbed here wasn't enough. They even had to suffer?

➤ .. BUT IT DOESN'T END THERE.

It twirls around, with its pinkness glowing brighter in shade every passing second. It leans closer, looking down at you.

➤ .. TO RETURN TO THE REAL WORLD. YOU WILL HAVE TO CONQUER THE WHIMS OF YOUR CHOSEN ONE'S ➤ .. HOWEVER, THE LONGER YOU TAKE TO WIN HIS HEART. ➤ .. THE MORE YOUR BODY AND SOUL WILL ROT.

"What do you mean by r-rot? In what way.. will I rot?" You stammered, suffocated by the entire revelation.

It beams up so bright it strains your eyes.

➤ ..THE MOMENT IT STOPS RIGHT WHERE YOUR PSYCHE EXACTLY ARE, WHERE IT REMAINS. ➤ .. YOU WILL START TO ROT.. IN A WAY YOU FEAR THE MOST. YOUR FEARS MANIFESTING AND DEVOURING YOU ALMOST LITERALLY! YOU MAY WONDER WHY? HUMANS ROT WHEN THEIR EMOTIONS ARE AMPLIFIED INTO A VOLUME THAT RENDERED THEM UNABLE TO THINK. ➤ .. ISN'T IT FASCINATING? EACH SOUL TRULY HAS ITS UNIQUE FLAVOR, REMEMBER? AND THATS WHAT MAKES EVERY SOUL A FREAK SHOW TO WITNESS!

Sheer terror illuminated your pupils, sucking out each hope of ever returning to the real world.

You could feel it—shreds of your remaining sanity slipping away.

➤ .. THE CODES FEEDS ON HUMAN'S FRAGILITY, MIMICKING ITS COMPLEXITY ALL WHILE ABSORBING ITS HOST AS A PART OF IT. ROLLING OUT FOR THE NEXT INSTALLMENT! ➤ .. THAT IS THE FINAL PHASE. ➤ .. BY THEN, IT IS MY CHOICE WHETHER TO TURN YOU INTO ONE OF MY PAWNS, OR DISCARD YOU. I CAN EITHER TURN THE FALLEN PLAYERS INTO THE NPCS YOU SEE EVERYDAY, LIKE A DOLL! OR INTO THE COLLECTIONS OF SKIN FOR PLAYERS IN THE REAL WORLD TO PLAY. ➤ ..DO YOU GET IT NOW?

No, I don't get it.

You sat there, staring off into the space, chanting that sentence in your head all while dealing with the horrifying fact that your life truly no longer belongs to you. Paralyzed in downright fear.

Tangled in this predicament, called hell.

Not a single reaction surfaces from your face. Your head drops down like a hand stitched doll with its neck ripped in half, showcasing an image of its head supported by a snapping piece of thread. Met with the sight of your shoes, you would really never be able to return home, do you?

"Why.." You mumbled in a low voice.

"I don't get it." Getting up on your knees, filled with despair. The suffocating pain inside you contorts into madness, exploding you finally did. "W-why are you doing this to me?!"

You bawled, yelling at it in the top of your lungs, shaking with rage shook with rage as red hot tears streamed out the rims of your eyes.

"Why did you even exists?" Punching your chest, you flailed your arms around. "Why are you doing this to all of us?!"

"What did we do to you?!" A long, stretched out wail of agony poured out of your throat. "You're a monster!"

"No, am I?"

Your jaw dropped on the ground. As the popup morphs into a pink cat before your very eyes, propelling your body to stumble backwards in panic. It slowly crawled its way to you with its tail growing and stretching out like an organ, till it wraps around your neck in swift motion.

"G-get away! Get away from me!" Its death grip around your neck had you choking, suffocating, gasping for breath.

"Perhaps your lover?"

As the cat forms another new persona—your ex-boyfriend. The rims of your eyes gathered tears. You writhe in pain. legs kicking in frantic motions as those tail are now but long pair of hands suffocating you to death.

"Or your mother?"

The grip loosens, a hand caresses down your temple—wiping off the trailing sweat with such an affectionate manner. Rendering you completely paralyzed by the hands of your 'mother'.

"Or.. my dear pathetic self?"

A deafening slap echoes in the empty air. You clutched your face tight, puzzled and unstable. A mirror. The reflection of you standing before your eyes, yet with her lips twisted in a sneer. A downright replica of you. Every edge of its visage looks exactly like you.

Yet she acts nothing like you.

An orchestration of yourself plays out; spewing all your thoughts, the one you keep yourself. Uttering about how she hates herself for being so stupid. For confessing in the first place. For being such a useless person. Every single thing you kept inside you, she utters with no regards to anything.

"S-stop! Stop doing this to me!" You screamed at the top of your lungs, wailing in agony, covering your ears with your hands to block out the hysterical savageness.

Vulnerable; it was as if your skin were being ripped out, exposing your flesh and blood, everything inside you into a freak show. To see it play out like a drama in front of your eyes humiliated you.

A few beats of silence echoes.

You lifted your wavering eyelashes to see yourself looking down at you with the most menacing smirk.

"This is only a piece of what I have yet to know about you." She tilts her head playfully, approaching you in slow steps. "Remember, the longer you take... The more I get to know you, understand you, act like you, and finally be you. Now do you understand?"

Biting your lip, you force yourself to nod— praying for this nightmare to end once and for all. Your doppelganger broke into a laughter, before her eyes swell into what you can very well decipher as pity.

"Oh, don't look at me that way." She coos, lowering herself down to your fetal position. "It makes me sad, I am neither your enemy or friend. I'm just a little guide, here and there. You wish for a reality where you desire to be craved, and I gave you just that."

She knelt down, extending her palms to you. Your glossy eyes trembled, hesitating. To your surprise, she pulled you into her embrace. Caressing your hair with her palms suffocatingly tender.

"Oh dear me, I just have to take that boy's heart, make him fall for me, make him die for me.."

You barely stifled a yelp of pain when she yanked you away in great force, a gasp spills out of your lips when the same heavy rose pink tint flooded your vision.

"You have to make this man kill for you."

His feline eyes gazing into yours, deep and close—speaking right in front of your face, holding and sinking his fingers on both your arms.

The visage of Jungwon.

He leans in forward, intertwining your both of your wrists in his grip before pressing a chaste kiss on your cheek.

Your cheeks flushed involuntarily as his lips came into contact with your neck, colliding behind your earlobe occasionally—sending tingles of goosebumps across your body.

"Make him hold you close, kiss you, and vow his life to you."

This explicit touches under his visage riled up your hormones, twisting an unfamiliar knot below your belly, alarming you. With your trembling arms, you tried pushed him away with your legs yet his grip tightens on your wrists causing you to hiss in pain—a single teardrop escaping the rim of your eye, mirroring your desire to escape.

Pair of strong arms manhandling you, forcing you into a position. Your ears are deafened by this pounding heart behind your chest, as he wipes off the tear from your cheek with his thumb.

"You know, I recall the days where my previous darlings, all of had given me the best and worthy performances, yet a few stood out the most."

His pretty eyes floated off the distance, as if reminiscing the old days.

"There was this one who didn't care at all of the NPCs in this game. He goes on a kill streak, obsessed with achieving the genocide ending. He amuses me yet was so hasty—he forgot that there was a witness escaping his hands."

A spine-chilling giggle floats out of his lips as he continued. "And another one no longer has the will to live her life whatsoever, leaving herself to rot till the very end."

"Ah! I remember," He beams up, "There was this one boy who was also just like you, he broke down into shambles after knowing everything. He swore he would never hurt anyone, but he soon lose control as he slowly reverts to his younger self, by then he's nothing like he was as an adult. He was so terrified of himself that he threw himself off the school roof."

Humming a certain tune, he gripped your shoulders—lifting your jaw up with her thumb, forcing you to look into her eyes.

"That's why you have to work for it, my darling. You don't have much time, after all. Make him yours, then all of him—he shall dedicate to you."

And then your vision flashes. Dropping on your elbows when the grip holding your wrists up vanishes. With no one in this room but you. Till you lifted your head to see the same pop-up—glowing and floating with ease.

➤ .. SONARE, YOU MAY CALL ME THAT.

Sonare?

Electrocution sparks in your veins, propelling you to wince at your hand. Your back curled involuntarily, clasping your chest almost immediately as you felt something inside. Crawling and devouring.

Its starting.

It's only about time where you'll witness the manifestation of your deepest fears.

➤ .. ISN'T THIS WHAT LIFE IS? IN PURSUIT OF SOMETHING, THAT IS HOW HUMANS LIVE. OR ELSE, HOW ARE YOU ABLE TO MOVE?

Mental regression, your soul rotting, your family. Everything else is at stake.

Clenching your fists tight on the floor, you lifted your head up forcing a short laughter. Tears had dried, only to be replaced with the sticky sensation latching on your cheeks.

"I can ask for your help.. right?"

➤ .. YOU MAY CALL ME WHEN YOU'RE IN DIRE NEED OF HELP, BUT THAT DOESN'T GUARANTEE THAT I'LL ALWAYS COME TO YOUR AID. ➤ .. IT'S NO FUN WHEN PLAYERS KEEPS GETTING HINTS.. ➤ .. YOU'RE ON YOUR OWN NOW.

Death.

A loop that could never be broken. You felt as if your life are slipping away from the tips of your fingers every passing second.

Sniffing in as you wiped off your tears with your collar, you headed to the cafeteria with a heavy heart, you went on with the tray like everyone else. You lost track of time, not having any knowledge of what had happened right after you the entire sequences of events.

You're drained.

Chewing on the meat, you sat alone just as you expected. Everyone else had their own circles, and the canteen are spilling with enmeshed voices in various rhythms. You'd find it kind of comfortable to just listen to back then, even when you'd have no one to talk with, just listening still gives you a little comfort. A fantasy world on your own.

But now all of their conversations is made up of a set of codes, repeating accordingly with their task of the day.

Take a breathe, you tell yourself.

You have a long way to go.

Go back to square one. School rivals. Just how many are there? Ten. There are a total of ten rivals. You had to eliminate all of them to survive.

Before you could even reach him, you'd be dead by all these delinquents, crazy fangirls, and students digging their eyes on you. Acting on your missions possessed great risks.

Just making one single error can cost your life; getting caught by one of the students while acting on your missions means getting expelled. Student councils, teachers, and the detectives themselves. It's such a terribly long path with thorny traps and blood spilled.

Refusing to do your missions. Death.

Getting caught. Death.

Expelled. Death.

Failing to win his heart and turning him a yandere for you. He'll be the one to lead you to your graveyard.

It's either theirs, or yours. They will kill you, he will kill you, unless you kill them first.

An inevitable bloodshed..

A gasp spills out of your throat, with your line of vision dripping in avalanche of blood. No. It isn't blood. Cold red juice drips down your face, washing over your skin with it's freezing temperature making your neck shiver at the contact.

Yet the words that followed after were even more colder, laced with contempt.

"Look at our pathetic one-sided love baby girl having her meal all alone,"

The delinquents. All of them gathered in front of you. Your eyes widened in radical inches. It's impossible. They would've never known! Unless someone has been sneaking on you, telling on you with everyone else. But as far as you've remembered, you've avoided getting under someone's skin.

Was it the occult club? The science club? Or perhaps the gardening club?

But this is really fucked up. The fact that your reputation is at its lowest right now meant everyone can ridicule you, make fun of you, toss you around like a play toy.

Series of sinister giggles spilled out one after another, an orchestration of parody playing out before you. You shudder in great humiliation yet you remain still—you couldn't afford to make anymore mistakes that could lead to you possibly being expelled. This is no longer the silly game you spent on trying to beat, this is now your real world with you are living as it's player.

"It was her fault, anyways. How could she ever think she could gain Jungwon's affection with the way she looks?"

"Right! She's making herself out here as a fool!"

"Pretty, you should've rehearse your love confession a bit. No wonder, Jungwon doesn't find you at the very least interesting. It's so bland, having no flavor! And again, can't you just be grateful for his friendship?"

"Where's your self-respect?"

The vein on your necks protrudes a visible line, hands tensing as you gripped tightly on the fork. Fire pit surging up inside your lungs as you struggle to breathe, desiring to scream at their face.

Don't lose your shit. They're just but an NPCs. They're not who they are anymore. A trap is all that it is.

You've withstand this so many times before, what differences would it make now? So why, are you so fucking pissed off?

Hands trembling as you continued chewing the bread in your mouth, and taking another mouthful bite, filling your cheeks and chewing each piece excruciatingly.

Swallowing it all down your throat with agony, as you recalled Sonare's words.

➤ .. AH, MY DARLING. I JUST WONDER, THOUGH. ➤ .. HOW LONG CAN YOU KEEP THIS NAIVETY OF YOURS? ➤ .. HOW LONG CAN YOU LAST.. BEFORE YOU ACHE TO SHED, TO THIRST FOR BLOOD?

You ran off.

Not before hearing the multitude of mockeries and degradation behind you.

It happens way in a blink of an eye. You didn't know what to do, what to act, what to say—in fear of a single mistake that would cause a heavy damage on your reputation, a massive drop that would push you a little closer to death.

With wobbling legs, you fell on your knees. Palms planted firmly on the asphalt. What was that.. clawing on your soul? This growing desire to snap their necks, images of decapitated heads and limbs flashing through your head.

What you've experienced was beyond you, as if someone had their hands wrapped around your wrist, hushing into your ear to shut their mouth once and for all. You were almost on the verge of slamming that blade in their heads.

Exhaling and inhaling a huge air, it does nothing but deepens the pain in your chest, you feel like you could explode at any moment from now.

"Hey, everything's okay there?"

A hand stretches suddenly before you catching you by surprise, you look up with fleeting curiosity—the hazy image of a girl.

"Hey, are you okay?"

Your shoulders droop down as your vision clears, with the back of her hand stroking down your temples, dark silk-like hair framing her face which only accentuates her doe eyes—Kim Minji.

"You're sweating," Pure concern etched on her features, Minji turned behind her—talking with someone. "She's so pale.. Guys, I think we have to get her to the infirmary room."

Giving a clearer view, your eyes fell on two boys; appearing as a slick black-haired boy, the tag name on his uniform written Jake Sim.

But a particular someone capture your heavy lids—standing next to him; the bane of your existence. Those eyes you had to make yours—to harbor affections, obsessions, and undying fervor; Yang Jungwon.

But how? In his eyes, you're nothing but a girl who had confessed to him, yet rejected. Why the fuck do you have to relive the same humiliation twice?

"Oh, isn't she?—" Jake halted his steps, seemingly surprised after kneeling to take a better look at you. His head turning behind him, locking eyes with Jungwon, where the boy in return has a disinterested look but cleared his throat, approaching closer.

"We have to hurry, she doesn't look too well." Jungwon says, patting Jake's back. "You go ahead, and carry her."

"Oh," Jake complied, turning his attention back to you with the same concern as Minji's in his eyes—walking to your side as he loops his arm around your back, placing other hand under your leg—lifting you up with ease.

With Jungwon following behind, hands in his pockets. Minji says with concern lace in her voice, stroking your cheek. "Hurry, Jake."

The boy in question huffs, where the heavy weight in your head pushes your lids down, dropping your head on his shoulder. The last thing you see was pitch black darkness on the other side of the tunnel, multiple giant hands stretching out to pull you inside it.

Forcing you out of your will, dragging you across the puddled asphalt. You cried out for help, your pleas echoing relentlessly. On the end of the tunnel, you could see hope illustrated in the brightest color of white.

You dragged yourself, crawling on your knees until you reached the end.

The landscape of white snows greeted your eyes. It was cold, freezing your bare skin and neck. You let your face be washed over by the breeze, closing your eyes to heighten its sensation. You're in this place again. This fucked up place.

Two silhouettes fading in the distance, stepping into a cabin caught your attention. Freezing in hell, you'd think the imagery of that underworld would be like how it was depicted in books and so. However here, you feel wholly empty, gnawing at that organ behind your ribcage.

You let your eyes remain on the cabin, recalling what your mother says, that girls shouldn't confess first yet you rejected the very idea; that regardless of gender, everyone should be able to confess their love. You didn't heed her advices, fulfilling your own set of principles, and thus you are left with more questions than answers if the boy ever love you even.

Mother was right, not everyone would reciprocate that love with sincerity and genuineness but instead manipulate it into their own benefit.

You're left behind, asking why? You felt her palms rubbed the back of your head, whispering another waves of words into your ears.

"You should never perceive yourself as a victim."

Don't complain. Once you lament your entire life only on that question, that's where hell breaks loose. Because a victim will only see themselves as one, and no one else.

A frog that frustrates over who threw the stone, lamenting over the question;

.. Why me?

But in your case, you'd like to turn this sentence into,

.. Why not me?

Why didn't he choose me in the end? Why did he choose other over me? Those questions lingered in your head.

All your life, you controlled yourself to a degree even when someone stomped on you. You bear it all, withstand it.

But it wasn't because you were kind. You don't see yourself as one.

Mother never says that, she never tells you to be evil either. Too much on either side will after all, spell your end. Your co-workers might have perceive you in the role of a victim, expressing their concerns and all that. But you don't see why, you don't see yourself as pathetic like everyone does. Even when they say you're pitiful. You don't.

You do not see yourself as pathetic, you were doing it because you just had to. You'd had to be part of this society, to survive.

Why should you live according to others' point view of life? How you view it is up to you. Mother was always right.

She was always right, that you've wanted to give her a call and cry it all out on her shoulder. But you knew that you won't be able to do so, as you've failed her not once but twice. Yet you can't help but mumble to yourself, crying out a helpless whisper.

"Mom, I'm dying."

Your eyes shot wide open.

Four white walls.

Your pupils darted wildly around you before letting out a dejected sigh after recalling what happened before you passed out. With heavy lids, you looked over to your side where you notice Minji sleeping on the edge of the bed.

You recalled the words of your boss upon seeing her.

Back then, even though, you ache to shove something into that bastard's mouth, and perhaps suffocate him to death, you persisted—digging your nails on the back of your hand, leaving a crescent marks on it that lasted for awhile. Because he was right, you'd be a hassle to look at.

Minji was the complete opposite. A visage that exudes a classic beauty, one that enthralls everyone close to her. You haven't know much about her yet, but you could get why Jungwon likes her back.

You held the need to scoff, it's just like how it was back then.

In this world, we are all, after all—easily replaceable.

Everyone was nowhere but her, however you could see the nurse in the other room adjacent to this one. Yet not a trace of Jake including Jungwon himself are at sight. Almost close, yet he slips away from your fingers once more. Upon realizing the cold damp cloth on your forehead, you're left with the question of why she had to go this far.

It's like a game of fate, though.

You didn't expect it would be this easy to get close to her. Almost tempting that your thoughts are almost morphing into ones you despise. With your eyes catching the sight of the syringe on the table across from you, you're compelled to take it and dig it inside her neck. It brought back a wave of nostalgia, a very grim one into your eyes.

You shook your head, praying for these thoughts to go away.

The girl shifted in his movements, raising her eyelids open which met yours much to your surprise. Noticing you're awake, her eyes lit up—pushing herself upright swiftly but now with concern swimming in her pupils as she asks.

"You're awake! Are you feeling okay now?"

Now that she was closer unlike the first time in the courtyard, her voice feels more clearer, to your surprise—it was kind of deep and husky. Like the ebbs and flows of the waves washing over the shore—it was pleasant to the ears.

Perhaps, a distinctive voice that you would probably remember for some time. Was she a singer in her real life? A small sentiment grow within your heart at the fact that she's very much gone already, and that whatever question you may have about what she's like, or regarding to her real life should be discarded as it won't do you any favor.

Vapid shells that once sang the hymns of the oceans. Now nothing but just a relentless roaring of the abyss. You wondered if they ever call for help when the life vanishes out of their eyes?

Licking your dry lips, you tried to push yourself up. Minji placed her palms on your back, assisting you as you sat up. "Slow down."

"You're?" Throat hoarse, you voiced out that question—feigning ignorance. You don't know what to do yet, but you can't let this chance go to waste.

"Minji," Her lips pursed up in a tender smile, "Kim Minji."

"Thanks, Minji." Placing your hand on hers, "For helping me just now."

"You don't need to, plus I wasn't the only one." Minji gestures her thumb behind her, keeping the sweet smile on her lips. "The other guys helped too, but they left awhile ago since your shirt was quite drenched."

"Oh," It was only now that you've realize your shirt was taken off, leaving you in your singlet where the former can be seen hanging on the clothing rack. "Thanks again, sorry for troubling you so much."

Shaking her head profusely, Minji replies with a small pout. "Don't say that, we are suppose to help each other when we're in need, no?"

'Help each other'. It might've done some wonders to your heart if not for the fact that this is not reality. That sentence doesn't sit too well with you in this very game. It feels off, somehow. Still, you nodded your head showing appreciation for her help.

There's a trace of hesitation swimming in her eyes, "You don't look like you were sweating that much though, did something happen?"

The sequences back in the canteen flashes in your mind, reminding you of how you were so close to death. Looking down at your legs covered by the sheets, you mustered the best small smile you can.

"I suppose I have annoyed someone."

"Did you beat up their ass?" Her question caught you off guard, but even more so with her eyes filled with anticipation as she leans closer to you. You were stammering, unsure of what to say until she notices her close proximity—letting out a nervous chuckle as she apologize meekly. "I'm sorry."

"It's fine, I'm used to it."

With a trace of what you can recognize as sympathy, swirls in her eyes. She squeezes your hand, lending you warmth.

"You've been sleeping for two hours now."

"I d-did?" Your eyes widened in shock, realizing that you must've skipped the second period which would lower your reputation meter once again. Grimacing as you cupped your forehead, "Please don't tell me you've skipped your class, too?'

"To be honest, yeah.." Minji pursed up a shy smile, "I'm just worried, you really seem like you're not in a good condition.."

You raise a brow at what she could possibly be implying at, until she finished her sentence.

"You kept saying.. that you're definitely dying." She rested her palms on yours, "Its really concerning so I can't help it but stay here with you. Whatever you're thinking about, you're not alone, okay?"

Ah. Was she thinking that you're trying to commit suicide?

In your peripherals, you could see the nurse approaching with a bottle of pills and a glass of water in her hands. "Migraines,"

As she lends you the glass and the pill, it left you downright baffled. Almost scoffing audibly at the very idea of getting fake pills. What this would do to you even?

"Take it easy, by the way. You've got to look after your health, otherwise it would only worsen and you might have to take a leave for a day or two."

No.

There was no way you could skip school—especially more than two days. Especially not after knowing all of the things that could and would happen once you're away. Not wasting any time, you quickly gulped down the pill down your throat—even when you know that it won't help that much—from this pernicious effects of your pending death.

A silhouette catches your peripherals, lips falling apart when he appears again. Yet as your heart involuntarily calls out for him, the name that floats out of his tongue is her name.

"Minji,"

"Wonnie," That nickname catches you by surprise, seeing the obvious effect on Jungwon's visage—dusting his cheeks with pink. "You're back!"

A reaction that sends a pang into your heart. It only amplified by the way his fingers tucked her hairlocks behind her ear—running his fingers down along her hair with such tenderness. The way his eyes are locked into Minji's—listening to her attentively as she talks—like every word that she utters matters more to him more than anything.

Looking away, you reminded yourself that you aren't in love with him. It's this game's mechanics convincing you that you are. So get yourself back in your senses.

"I see," As he lifted his eyes away from Minji to you, "Are you okay now?" His face turns to blank with dull eyes, despite his question carrying a sense of concern, you could sense it—this colossal wall he raises up around you, as if to shield you away from him.

A sheer gap of how he treats you and Minji is evident. Slammed at your face, even. Its only the first day yet somehow it looks like he's too far in deep.

Was Sonare lying to you again?

Whatever it may be. You're screwed. It won't be long till those eyes of his morph into sinister ones, into a fatal poison that would cost your life.

Forcing the best genuine smile you could muster, casting it on Minji.

"Thanks to Minji, yes."

"Good to hear."

He replies nonchalantly before turning his attention back to his girlfriend, his sugary demeanor surfacing back up. "You haven't eaten yet, so I've grabbed you something to eat from the cafeteria."

"You got me my favorite!" Minji beams up, jaw dropping slightly at the plastic wrapped sandwich and an orange juice box. "Thank you Wonnie."

She grabbed his hand, expressing appreciation to him with her eyes but then confusion surfaces from her visage. With her brows knitted together, she tilted her head a bit further to look behind Jungwon. "Is that all?"

"Yeah?"

"But," She turns to look at you, and then at Jungwon. "You didn't got her one?"

"Oh, sorry. I forgot." Jungwon rub his nap, as he says nonchalantly. "To be fair, that was the last one."

Lie. That's a lie.

You knew that wasn't the truth.

Despite knowing from his profile that Jungwon isn't a liar, nor does he utter white lies for the sake of others. You've remembered another thing once you scrolled down to the section of how he's like once he turns into a yandere; that once he starts falling for the player, he will begin to lie even if its the thing he had swore to never do in the first place.

You could see it. He just doesn't see the reason why he should get another one because you are not that even important to him, so why should he care about your wellbeing? As difficult as it was to swallow it down your throat, this is only the beginning. He'd treat you far more worse with each of his heart slowly dedicating itself to this girl in front of you.

"We'll share then," Minji says, as she breaks the sandwich in half—surprising you and Jungwon. "Here!"

Shaking your head, "H-hey, you don't have to, I'm not that hungry."

"You got to eat," She insisted, pushing the half of the bun on your hand. "You've skipped over lunch too, right?"

"No, I did! I've eaten."

That came out louder than you expected it to as the girl jolted in response but emitted a slight laughter shortly after. She looks back and forth at the foods on her hands, before lifting the other hand with the orange juice box on it.

"Then.. Maybe a drink would do?" Minji asks you with a convincing smile before tilting her head up to Jungwon, seemingly asking for permission. "I'm not that thirsty, anyways."

Jungwon just patted her hair, nodding in silence.

Acknowledging that she probably won't give up, you accepted it—punching the straw in the box, taking a sip from it as you observed the two getting in lost in their own world once more, like how Minji shyly commented how the sandwich tastes a lot more better when Jungwon bought it—the need to grimace amplifies, as your head are shrouded with numerous how's.

Of how to rip them apart from each other.

The match-making method would no longer work in this situation. There was no way you will be able to rip them both off each other without resorting to the very method you've been trying to avoid.

She may no longer have her consciousness intact anymore, but even the image of yourself stabbing her to death repulsed you.

➤ .. TO WIN OVER HIS HEART, TO MAKE HIM YOURS—YOU MUST LOSE YOURSELF, FIGURATIVELY OF COURSE! ➤ .. UNLESS IF YOU FAIL IN DOING SO, YOU'LL PERISH IN WAYS YOU'D NEVER IMAGINE.

You pushed away Sonare's words out of your head with a grimace.

You didn't want to keep imagining it you really don't. However, just how long are you going to keep this up? The fact that you've still yet to decide of what is the best way to get rid of her?

You still have a chance, as Jungwon hasn't turn into a yandere yet.. But it won't be long till he falls deeper for his now-girlfriend, Minji.

"Hold on, Heeseung's calling." Jungwon showed the flip phone's screen to Minji before going outside, which she nodded in return.

You didn't miss how he stroke his fingers on Minji's hair before leaving, a gesture that propels a shy smile in the girl's lips.

It hasn't been a day of them being lovers yet, but why the fuck is he so lovestruck? It only does nothing but distress you further. Plus, its weird.. of how Minji seems to have her guard down before you as if she doesn't know anything about it.

Her amiable acts towards you led you to believe that she was unaware of the events between you and Jungwon. He might've kept it from her, or just didn't see it important enough to tell her. All the way more convincing you that you are nothing to him.

You had to make something, do something in some way.

"Which club are you from, by the way?" You asked, partly of genuine curiosity, and partly because you have to dig in more details of her.

"Oh, I'm haven't join one yet.. But I got my eye on one or two clubs."

"What are they, then?"

"Drama, or the light music club." She replied, her fingers fiddling the hem of her sleeves. "But I'm leaning towards the latter.. because singing has always been my favorite thing to do."

This won't be easy, you thought to yourself.

"That's cool!" Feigning support, "You really do look like one, you know, like a singer."

You captured how her eyes lit up with stars. "You really think so?"

Nodding with no trace of hesitation, she lets out a small chuckle, as if she was suspense with disbelief.

"That's- I just didn't think that anyone would notice," Minji says with her eyes gazing out the window, but as you trace at where she was looking at, her eyes seems to look further than you can reach. "I mean, no has ever said that in this place."

"No one has ever said so?"

"Yeah, you're the first one." She says with a smile you somehow feel genuine, "You got a really good eye, I have to say."

Minji asks back with her attention undivided, leaning forward—seemingly curious as well. "What about you? Are you planning to join one of the clubs here as well?"

To be fair, you haven't join any clubs in this particular server you were playing in. You had some plans to get in the art club or martial club sometime ago, but had long forgotten about it. But now, it seems like the art club is your best bet, for now, that is.

"I was thinking, Ar—" Your words were punctuated by the distant chatters outside this room. Jungwon's voice blending with another, which you can't seem to decipher. But it grew clearer as they approached closer.

Jungwon appeared, with a particular someone following behind him.

"Jesus, I thought someone got hurt when you said you were by the infirmary room." The boy rolled his eyes as he shuts his flip phone. "Hey Minji, and.."

His eyes fell on you.

"Who's this?"

Purple hair framing his face, bouncing on his eyelashes—almost obscuring his doe eyes. The eldest among the yanderes, and the leader of the gaming club—Lee Heeseung. If there was one thing most memorable about him in his profile, is that he has a big obsession with collecting keyboards. Not often spotted around his members as he spent afterhours in the gaming club, playing games all day.

You're surprised that he doesn't look at all malnourished, or close to the stereotypical image of a gamer; disheveled hair, dark eyebags, and a gloomy atmosphere but rather a neat, and well-combed hair, paired with a healthy skin tone. Not what you would expect from someone who is cramped all day in a dimly-lit room.

You'd often wonder how the heck the players who chose him would be able to get him out of his inner world of games and keyboards.

Before Minji could answer, Jungwon did.

"Minji was the one who found her almost passed out behind the academy, so we brought her here."

With a complete air of nonchalance, that is. Since awhile ago, you notice how Jungwon has never laid his eyes on you for more than three seconds, his eyes was everywhere but you.

"So?"

"So what?" Heeseung asked with evident confusion.

"I thought you wanted to say something on the way here?"

"Why am I here again? Ah yes, the club." Heeseung mumbling to himself, before letting out a rather loud 'tsk'.

"What's up with the club?"

"You know what I'm talking about," Heeseung ruffled his hair, pushing his tongue in his cheek. "No, seriously, not one but two of the club members quitted. Like why the fuck didn't they inform me way back then? Such a bummer."

"What are you suppose to do even there?" Minji suddenly asks.

Heeseung turns to look at her, "Gaming?"

"Just gaming?"

"Yeah, what else are you suppose to do then?"

"I seriously don't get why the Gaming Club was approved in the first place." Minji shrugs, in which you shared the same thought as well. She has a point, though.

Back in the real world, you never found the gaming club useful at all. Its benefits where you could do missions through playing games to raise your stats kind of wasted your time.

"Well, you'd probably don't get it." Heeseung rolled his eyes, seemingly finding it useless to banter with her before turning to the boy in front of him. "Anyways, Jake has been considering to quit the drama club. What say you, Jungwon?"

"Me?" Jungwon points at himself, in which the former nodded in response. "Who says I'm leaving my club?"

"Dude, just quit the martial arts club." Heeseung says, with an amused expression trying to stifle a chuckle. "It's not like we have any serial killers around here with their ass for you to kick?"

Somehow, you found yourself stiffening at Heeseung's words.

"I'm in dire need for club members now, Yang."

"Ask others, then?" Jungwon said, "You know how many students wants to join your club, especially the girls."

"No, not the girls, please." Grimacing, Heeseung shook his head. "I don't have anything against girls but the thing is they don't have the same level of passion for gaming," Pointing his index finger on the ground as he continues speaking, "Not in this academy, okay?"

"The boys?"

"Sunghoon and Jay isn't budging the fuck from their recipes, while Sunoo had just joined the occult club a month ago, and Ni-ki?" Heeseung shook his head, facepalming himself. "That kid has no sense of either punctuality or responsibility."

He pauses his words in-between, though—as if a light bulb lighted up in his head.

"Wait, if I could get Jake. Perhaps, Ni-ki would follow along."

"Go for it, then."

A sigh spills out of Heeseung's lips. "The calculation I made for this is undoubtedly fairly low, unfortunately. So please,"

Jungwon only shrugs in return, seemingly putting a thought about it.

"You're my only hope now aside from Jake, or else the faculty room's gonna shut my club down, dude." Desperation evident in Heeseung's voice as he kneels down much to you all's surprise. With Jungwon having to force him to stand up but the latter only pressed on, insisting with no hint of giving up at all.

"Oh god, Heeseung." Minji cups her forehead at the sight playing out in front of her before asking you with her lips pursed up in a smile "Which club was it again, the one you wanted to join?"

"Art club."

Hearing your answer, Minji turns to look at the boy kneeling on the floor. "Guess there's no hope for you then."

Heeseung groaned, mumbling to himself how he wasted his energy going all the way down here.

"By the way, Minji. Aren't you suppose to look for the light club's members now?" Jungwon asks, a question directed to Minji.

"Oh my god!" The girl in question abruptly stands, the chair creaking at the same time. "You're right! I totally forgot about it!"

"I'll accompany you there," Jungwon suggested, stretching his hands out to her. You avoid the image of their hands intertwining, looking the other way.

"(Name), you'll be fine here, right?" Minji asks with enthusiasm, in which you nodded in return, assuring her that its okay. "I'll be back later!"

And so you observed as the two left, with Heeseung following behind them but with a pair of eyes you could see fleeting in the distance.

Footsteps and chatters fading in the distance. You watched the faint marmalade sky, taking a deep sigh as you closed your eyes, rummaging your head of what to do.

You opened your eyes to see that he hasn't left yet.

"Why are you still—"

"Ah, so you're (Name)?" Heeseung pulls away after he read your tag name, standing still all while humming a certain tune, quite familiar to your ears but you can't pinpoint where you did it hear from. "You play games?"

"No." You replied swiftly.

Judging by his first question, it was better if you shut it down fast as you don't have any intention in joining the gaming club, since it doesn't have any advantages or benefits like other clubs does. To summarize it, its a completely useless club.

Tilting his head, you feel the curiosity enveloped in his eyes. "What do you mean by 'no'?"

You raise one brow, confused as to what he was implying at.

"Your eyes," Chuckling, he gestures his fingers over his eyes, "They look like they hurt a lot, that means you must have been playing a whole lot of games."

"If you're planning to ask me to join your club, then sorry, I lose all the time."

"Pity, why don't you join my club then?" He chimes in, insisting with chins buried on his palms. "Perhaps under my tutelage, you'll get really, really good at gaming."

"I don't really care in improving my gaming." You rebutted almost nonchalantly, leaning your head on the pillow as you shut your eyes tight.

"Ugh, so close." Heeseung whines, however seemingly insistent at the topic. "Then why do you play games in the first place?"

"What else do you think?" You looked into his eyes, trying to show him that you're bored.

A few beats of silence.

"I don't think so," Heeseung says, "You don't like someone who would play for pastime."

"What makes you think so?"

"Like I said, your eyes." Heeseung says, "It hurts right?"

You played games for what really?

A game where you can freely act on your desires without inflicting real pain on real people, a fantasy world where you shouldn't cross the line.

A line you wanted someone else to cross for you instead.

You wanted someone to be selfish for you for once. Someone who won't have their love wavers with one look on others. Someone who wouldn't say.. that it wasn't true love.

It just so happens that you found this game. You ended up finding solace in these so-called yanderes where they will only have their eyes on you, where their top priority is the best interest of your heart, an affection that exceeds all boundaries and limits, vowing loyalty that never fleets till the end of their life.

It's hilarious how this beings are the twisted form of that sentence your mother utters; instead of manipulating you and using you like a play toy, it was instead used in a way to make you theirs. You ache for that kind of love. It may be all toxic, yet your body aches to be embraced. You had no hope for these obsession to exist in the real world.

Hence why you could only let out your frustrations and lamentation in this game. It's all about you, only you. That's what you love about it. A virtual world where you can unleash your pain, act on your wildest desires, and appease your hurting soul.

Thoughts come and go. But some just persists, latching in the depths of your soul like a pest, therefore your brain does what its best at—to protect you; keep it, hide it like your dirty laundry, and kicking it off in the deepest and darkest corner.

There was no need to hurt someone else just because you had been hurt yourself. You vowed that to yourself.

However you can't deny that this mind of yours, this soul of yours will never be the same. It's tainted. Smudged. Scarred. You're beyond saving, no matter how you try. You can hide it all you want, yet its there, creeping back up when you're presented with that same image of a dirty laundry.

The very same dirty laundry this game is preying on, urging you to nurture it, to let go of your self. To let yourself snap. To make you go back on your own words. A freak show in its eyes.

Oh, how the tables had turned.

"Not all people play games to get better or become pro at it like you do."

Heeseung hums in response, leaning against the edge of the window. "What type of games do you like?"

"Why do you care?"

"Hey," He scoffed, "So is it classified as weird to ask harmless questions now?"

You rolled your eyes, "It's a game where you have to survive."

"Bingo, I'm a pro at surviving, you see." Heeseung throws you a wink, "I can give you tips on how to win if you let me."

"Unfortunately for you," You covered your eyes with your forearm, giving a signal that he should just leave already. "It's a fucked up game, and I don't like playing games anymore anyways."

"I know that words," The boy snickers, approaching you with growing interest laced in his voice. "Tell me, what is this game that's making you act up like this?"

"It's none of your business."

"It is, gaming is my forte."

"Your forte in gaming won't save you from this one."

"What makes you think I can't?" You could feel his silhouette near the edge of the bed, casting a shadow on you. "All the games I've played, I've won."

No, you've lose. Despite being unsure of whether the yanderes themselves are once real people. You couldn't help but be affected by his words. Scoffing at the irony at the words leaving his mouth, you pulled your forearm from your eyes—pushing yourself to sit upright.

Meeting his eyes, you said. "Haven't you wonder that it must be that you've never found a game that will make you lose, yet?"

"That's why I have to play it, we'll know if we never try." He pressed on, keeping the smirk on his lips.

His confidence and all this words is pushing you towards the brink. Groaning, you let yourself fall back on the pillow. Shifting your body where you back faces him. "You'll definitely lose, I'm telling you."

"What? Does it take two players to win?" Tilting his head in amusement, chuckling. "If you're afraid in hindering me, then I don't suck that bad to the point to be held back by an amateur, you know."

"Not even close." Your frown deepens. "You'll only die."

"It doesn't hurt to try."

"It will hurt."

"C'mon, now."

"Don't get too ahead of yourself."

"What's a game for if not to take risks?" Heeseung smirks, "Its not too different from life, you see. There's a reason why they say life is a game." He leans closer, "We only got one chance in life."

You scoffed with your eyes closed, "I didn't know the gaming club's leader can be this persistent outside his computers, but I guess you are staying true to your role as a gamer."

"Well, you won't excel in life if you don't play your role well."

Finally losing your patience, with your eyes now shot wide open—you pushed yourself upright once more, glaring at him with spite. "Seriously? I thought you said to your friend just now that you don't want any girls to join your club because they don't have that, what was it again?"

Heeseung tilted his head sideways, waiting for you to finish your words.

"Ah, yes, passion." With a clenched jaw, and annoyance plastered on your face—you raise your index finger at him, "So why the fuck are you forcing me to join your club?"

"What? Are you offended about what I said?"

"The thing is, I don't care."

"What I said was true, though." Heeseung bends down to your eye level, "No one here has a passion for gaming like I do."

"So why—"

"But I see in it you." With your eyes locked together with his, you could the deep curiosity swirling within. A hollow well yet so strange it sucks your breath away, like a pair of hands wrapped on the back of your head. "Like I said, your eyes."

You released a shaky breath when he finally pulls away, breaking the intense prolonged eye contact.

"What say you, pretty?" His voice pulls you out, "Maybe I can help you win."

With trembling hands, you spat out. "Leave."

"Alright, alright, I'll be leaving now." Heeseung's voice fades as he heads off to the exit, but your ears caught on his halted steps. "But my offer still stands. In case you change your mind, you know where to find me."

With silence finally enveloping the room, you're left wondering what had just happened. What was that, even?

The leader of the yanderes offering you to join his club, which doesn't serve you any benefits. But as you've given it more thought, perhaps this is the golden chance to get closer to Jungwon, which is through his friends. What better way is it if not through the leader himself?

But if everything went exactly the way you want it to be, what would you do with Minji? After that seemingly genuine conversation with her, it pains your heart to even imagine anything sort that way.

It leaves you more conflicted as time passes, though, as you can't still seem to decide whether joining the gaming club is better than the art club. As tempted as you are, you cannot join the martial arts club. You are certain that it will only push Jungwon away from you.

Instead, the drama club would give you way more benefits with its costume and masks, and Jake was there too but Heeseung had mentioned that he's considering of leaving so there's that. While the cooking club has both Sunghoon and Jay—the unfortunate encounter you had with the former earlier had left you somewhat intimidated by him, and remembering Jay's profile doesn't make you feel any better as he had a shady history.

Perhaps the occult club would be a better option, and Sunoo has been an active member for two months. Despite being one of the yanderes, he's a sweet boy with a cheerful demeanor—and that makes it easier to get close to him. But the overall atmosphere of the other occult members makes you grimace, they don't seem very welcoming in your opinion.

Ruffling your hair in a mess, you clenched your jaw as you couldn't find yourself making the right decision.

What's even the right decision? You are scared. You truly are scared. It has been awhile since you've felt this much dread and fear. You've gotten really good at holding yourself back all this time, doing so well not letting your personal emotions getting the best of you.

But now you aren't so sure anymore.

You weren't sure of which are you scared of more too; was it the fact that your entire existence will be wiped out if you fail, or was it because you'll rot, or was it because everything you've tried so hard to forget will flood back once more?

Or maybe it was everything altogether.

Truth to be told, you're afraid of the you that will slowly return. That part of you that sees herself as a victim and no one else. You didn't want to go back to her anymore.

It was so far back, hazy swirls shrouding your head. You suppressed it in a way. You can no longer remember the details. Yet it was there inside your heart. That reeking dirty laundry swirling your heart, recycling it like a washing machine.

A side of you that deeply perturbs your soul.

Deep down, it also terrifies you that this game will come to understand you soon, more than you do.

A frog that frustrates over who threw the stone, lamenting over the question; "Why me?"

You do not wish to go back to the you from back then. Not anymore.

Your lips fell apart when the atmosphere against your bare skin changes, growing thick and tense as if someone had pressed the pause button. The swaying lush trees beyond the window halted, and the nurse on the other side of the room stood still. The chatters outside are replaced with a deafening silence.

A gasp spills out of your throat when the same pink display screen like Sonare appeared, however instead of texts—list of choices are presented before your eyes.

Whatever you choose to term it with, these set of choices are now the bane of your life. A heavy weight pushing you down as you read each choice, leaving you more distress than ever.

You've got to instill it in your mind that being Jungwon's girlfriend isn't enough, you have to make him die for you—where everything he sees, hear, smell, and taste is you.

If you want to live, you had to.

Make him yours, make him say yes to your love confession.

➤ .. CAN YOU CLIMB UP THE RANKS AND TAKE THE SPOT AS THE ONE AND ONLY BELOVED DARLING OF YOUR YANDERE?

© 2022-2024, pieroulette on [tumblr]. all rights reserved.

📫 qna can be delivered to my sideblog: @yuanvei !

[sufrimientilia]

characters on the run

always so tired. driving for hours and hours in whatever shitty beater they find or steal, downing caffeine and too many five-hour energy shots pickpocketed from some gas station

sleeping cramped up in some bus or train seat, slumped over in a transit terminal, hoodie pulled up tight in the hopes of not being recognized

nodding off but jerking awake every single time, exhausted but hardwired to be paranoid even with caretaker's gentle touch and quiet reassurances trying to get them to rest

so much time spent running or fighting they eventually just crash. stoic characters slumped and snoozing, trying to keep watch and instead getting some much needed rest

lurching awake in a cold sweat, gasping and trembling, bandages wrapped tight up and down their torso

"we're safe here. i promise."

"it's okay-- it was just a dream, i didn't hear anything..."

shot or stabbed while trying to lose a chase. limping through crowds, desperately acting causal, traces of blood left on everything they touch

collapsing and drawing a scene, strangers asking questions and touching all over. having to slip away from concerned bystanders before actual help (or trouble) arrives

washing off in some shitty public bathroom and leaving behind a horror show of bloodied paper towels and smeared fingers all over porcelain, too out of it and in a rush to actually bother cleaning up

character bleeding out and semiconscious and caretaker doesn't know what to do, has nowhere to go. desperately trying to drag them along as the threat gets closer and closer, or hiding and waiting and begging for them to wake up

when it's too dangerous to go to a hospital. makeshift first aid in the back of some car, breaking into a vet clinic after hours, slumped over in a dank alleyway or dirty bathroom. shaking fingers and dim lighting and nowhere comfortable to recover

all of the places to lie low are sketchy as hell. trap houses, back rooms, dive bars, strip clubs, late night joints where passing acquaintances are somehow okay with shady strangers crashing on their couch. always surrounded by a bad crowd and caught up in seedy shit

wearing the same clothes which get increasingly fucked up. fabric lost to makeshift bandages or tourniquets, blood stains and sweat, the same hoodie passed between characters getting worn and sentimental

long sleeves, oversized clothes, shitty makeup, hoods and sunglasses and hats, anything to hide their identity and all of the bruises and cuts

barely any money to their name. having to choose between filling up on gas or eating, counting remnants of change, stealing food or dine and dashing out of necessity. barely scrapping by and working any job on the low, just oh so easy to take advantage of

getting sick, but it's not like they get a break from running. feverishly wandering around, catching concerned looks from strangers, never getting the chance to rest properly so they just get worse and worse

getting so desperate they eventually call for help. trembling and hunched over in a phone booth, nervously knocking on caretaker's door, so rundown and pitiful of course they wouldn't be turned away, where the fuck have they been?

[gallaghersgal]

TA lip making you cockwarm him while he grades papers because you couldn’t be patient and kept begging for him 🚶‍♀️

olive, i think this genuinely killed me. like im 6ft under. nsfw 18+. cockwarming, degradation, name calling, mean dom lip but he's secretly a softie, trust.

you're seated in lip's lap as he sits at his desk grading papers. it's a precarious perch but with the way you cling to his body it doesn't feel unsafe. his cock is brushing deep inside you, you've felt it go soft with time, as he made you wait and wait and wait for what you really wanted. you shift your hips just a bit, grinding until his tip just barely kisses your cervix. a pathetic whine falls from your lips, morphing into a startled yelp when a sharp smack! lands on your ass.

"cut it out," lip scolds. "so fuckin' needy. quit movin', you're gonna take what i give you, like the whore you are. y'understand me?"

you remove your face from its hiding place in his shoulder just to throw a frustrated pout in his direction, but he only shakes his head and threads his fingers through the hair at the base of your skull to pull you back tightly. you know better than to talk back but something in you wants to defy him. there's something to be found in the thrill of the chase, what you need so tantalizingly close, with him right where you need him and yet just out of reach. not without a great difficulty, you manage it, remaining quiet.

"you're gonna be good, right?" lip asks, his voice carrying a rough edge that has your walls pulsing around him. you feel him twitch inside you, watch him bite his lip before he adds, "gonna sit right here on my cock, an' do as i say?"

"y-yes," you manage, gasping when his grip on your hair tightens. he cocks his head as if asking, wanna try that again? "yes sir."

lip doesn't quite smile at your obedience, but there's a hint of fondness on his face. in that same stern tone that always has you willing and ready to do whatever he asks, he continues. "'ve got a deadline to meet, you know that. so you're not gonna keep squirming around, and whinin' an' shit. cause if you keep it up, swear t'god, i won't fuck you for a week. don't need t'do that to my poor needy baby, now do i?"

"no sir," you respond. "i can be good."

"good, good girl." he releases his grip then, giving soothing scratches to the area and smushing a quick kiss to your brow.

you're so eager to please, but when he tries to guide your face down to rest on him once again your stomach twists in sudden anxiety and you resist the pressure, letting out another small, needy whine. his hand moves from the back of your head to hold your chin, forcing your gaze to meet his own. you'd opened your mouth to speak but quickly close it again, frozen with intimidation, your eyes hiding from the intensity in his gaze.

"never fuckin' listen, y'stupid thing. i gave you clear instructions," lip growls, but when your glassy eyes brim with tears he finds an ounce of pity within himself. he ducks his head to meet your downcast gaze, and with a softer tone he asks, "what's the matter, sweetheart? need'ya to use y'words."

you stare at him for a few moments, whether it's to test his patience or relish in his fond softness you aren't sure. but time passes with his blue eyes locked on your own, in tune with your body and wary of any boundaries he might be inadvertently breaking, and you manage to spit it out. "kiss?" you ask softly, to which he huffs out a laugh.

his lips meet yours in a slow and firm kiss, giving you one, then two more before he separates again. the pad of his thumb traces over your bottom lip, pulling it into a pout. "that wasn't so hard, now, was it baby?" he coos, fingers moving to dig into the soft flesh of your hips. he adjusts you in his lap, makes sure you're comfortable, then one large hand is cradling your head and guiding you back to the crook of his shoulder.

"wasn' bad," you repeat softly. "thank you."

there's a kiss landing against your temple, and his lips move softly against your skin as he murmurs, "just a few more papers. then 'm all yours."

let's have a sleepover at mine | submissions closed

[sumnthingabouther]

⋆·˚ ༘ * boss! Abby x subordinate! fem! reader

nsfw towards the end

cw: slightly obsessive abby, implied inappropriate activity in a workplace. men and minors dni

Now you didn’t know this but Abby always had eyes for you, ever since you first joined the company a year and some months ago. initially you weren’t under her division, having been under someone else in the finance department. Meaning she had to watch you from afar. But god did she love it when she caught you in the morning. Your slightly tired face while you held your leather binder tightly in your arms. The way you shuffled to the elevator in your almost barely work appropriate skirts. One time you had made the mistake of bending over in front of her. Accidently bumping into her in the early morn as you were making your way to your cubicle, causing all your papers to scatter across the ground. Apologies fell from your mouth profusely while work to get your fallen papers off the ground.

“Its all good, here let me help you with that.” The offer came from a genuine place, however when she saw you bent over in that extremely short skirt, a flip in her switched. After helping you she watched you scurry away, a smirk plastered across her face. God how she wished she could get a view like that again.

She spent months remembering your schedule, what time you got to work. what time you got lunch. what time you clocked out. Everything…. in a non creepy way of course she just wanted to see more of you. As time went on she began to grow antsy , simply knowing your schedule wasn’t enough for her anymore she wanted to keep a close eye on you. Eventually, she had some strings pulled getting you to transfer under her. It was better this way, she needed to keep an eye on you.

You never knew why you got transferred over to her so suddenly, but the position you were offered was much higher than your previous one and the pay was so much better. You took it with no second thought. Plus you were already well acquainted with Anderson, working under her would be a breeze. Or so you thought.

You began to notice how she would hover over you, initially you thought it was her making sure you were adjusting properly. “Just making sure you’re doing okay, don’t be afraid to step by my office if you need anything.” Then came the passive aggressive attitude towards your coworkers that got a little to got to close to you. Noticing how she scowled and folded her arms that flexed under her dress shirt when they walked away. “She can handle that just fine, if she needed your help she would’ve asked.”

Then came the day you dreaded, getting called into her office out of nowhere. your anxiety skyrocketed as you made your way down the hallway, heels clacking against the cold ceramic floor. Your hand hovered over the door knob of her office door, taking a breath before opening it. Abby welcomed you in, the tone of her voice was surprisingly soft which made you relax a bit, and to your surprise she spoke highly of you.

“As much as i love praising you, lets cut to the chase.” her tone immediately dark. fuck here it comes, you were so getting fired. “Do you have any idea what you do to me?” Wait huh? Abby shot up from her desk, she was circling you now with a dangerous glint in her eyes.

“E..excuse me? Ms. Anderson-” “Abby is fine,” she interrupted. “—and you heard me clearly, you’re a smart girl aren’t you? You can put two and two together.” She was taunting you now, and as much as you tried to hide it, it turned you on so bad.

“Now do me a favor doll, and lock my door for me.”