#like I’m not angry at her for being dead. I didn’t even really cry about it

[figureitoutinthemorning]

Hmmmmm okay you all can ignore this lmao I’m just going to Complain On The Internet for a bit because I’m pretty sure it’s that or tell the next person to say hi my entire life story, and no one wants that, least of all me ✌️

[hoonsluvr]

CHERRY

박성훈 ꒰ park sunghoon ꒱ — genre; summer au, best friend’s older brother, forbidden romance, smut, a bit of fluff, angst ୨ৎ cw; p in v, unprotected sex, spit, choking, gagging, oral f.rec, mating press, edging MDNI. ⟡ synopsis; you never thought that an unexpected obsession formed during your trip to southern italy would teach you one life’s cruelest lessons — never fuck your bestfriend’s brother ୨ৎ wc; 4.8k — library ⭑.ᐟ

inspired by; cherry - lana del rey

isla yaps; hii, this is my first work so i’m a bit nervous!! lmk what you think of the layout and feedback in general is appreciated! :)

Was it wrong that you felt happy when your parents announced they wanted to take a vacation alone this year?

You sit opposite them at the dining table, your mom explaining herself for the hundredth time over. Clearly she felt guilty about it but you didn't mind. “You know its our anniversary during that time darling and I hope you understand that we love having you with us, of course we do, but 50th anniversaries are rather special and we’re booking a honeymoon resort.”

You feign a look of sadness to act like you’re listening but your mind is already elsewhere. It wasn’t that you didn’t like spending time with your parents, that wasn’t the problem at all, but now that a family vacation was out of the picture, joining Stella’s family in Italy was back in the conversation.

Soojin, or Stella as she liked to be called was your best friend, your ride or die. Years ago, when you moved to a new town, the Park family were your next door neighbours and you and Stella quickly became close, bonding over your hatred for the town and its people. You two had always felt suffocated in its environment, the way everyone knew everyone’s drama, everyone’s problems, everyone’s secrets. You promised each other that one day you would escape and explore the world together for that very reason.

You were over at her house so much that you were basically a part of the family. You had your thumbprint on their security system, the password to the garage door, and even your own designated chair at the dining table. Her mom used to jokingly call you two sisters, but honestly, that didn’t feel far off. You and Stella had grown up together, seen all of each other’s phases too. The cringe phase, the boy-obsessed phase, oh god- the emo phase, and yet your friendship was still going strong. From weekend sleepovers where you giggled and gossiped all night long to crying on each other’s shoulders after not feeling accepted in school, to smoking your first blunt together, you two had been through every whirlwind experience together. After all these years, you still struggled to express just how much admiration you held for her.

And now, it had come. This was the last summer you had left with her. In 3 months you were going to head North to New York City, to pursue a degree in arts while Stella would remain in your hometown. When you broke the news, you expected her to be angry at you because of the promise you made to travel together forever, but she simply smiled and told you she was proud of you and that she always knew you would make it far.

You felt a pit in your stomach thinking about being apart, you had never really imagined life without her, so imagine your relief and excitement when she proposed that you join her family on their vacation to Italy this summer. One last chance to have the time of your life with your best friend while you were both still young? No one could catch you dead saying no.

-

“Mom, please.” You beg, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes from frustration. You sit across from her on the kitchen island, sipping on a mango smoothie as she prepped dinner for tonight. At this point, the conversation had been going on for far too long and both of you were running thin on patience. “I just don’t understand why you won’t let me go.” You huffed, used to getting your way.

Your mother sighs. “Sweetie, I’ve explained this to you. The Parks have done so much for you, your entire life! I just don’t want you to be a burden on them when they’re trying to have a family vacation. They're extremely sweet for offering but it’s a tough situation.”

“Ugh!” You exclaim and your mother shoots you a don’t-be-so-dramatic look. “They offered to have me! And besides, with you and daddy going to Mexico and Stella going to Italy, I’m going to be alone this summer. My last summer before college is going to be spent wasting away. It’ll be years before I see Stella again!” You pout, your eyes sparkling with hope as you see her expression soften, triumphant that you clearly struck a soft spot.

“We’ll see about it darling.” She sighs.

Even with her weary expression, all the tell-tale signs were there. She had been convinced. You stand up, satisfied as you go to text Stella the news.

And that’s how you find yourself going to the South of Italy for three weeks with the Parks: Stella, her mother and father, and her older brother Sunghoon.

Sunghoon had always been a little shy and introverted making him hard to talk to, your four year age gap not doing much to help create a relationship either. Despite that, Sunghoon had always tried being sweet to you. After many attempts of trying to talk to him over the years, you finally managed to break his shell the one time he rescued your prized possession, a teddy bear plush named Ben, from a tree branch. You still remember the warm hug he gave you when you cried over Ben’s stitching being torn and ever since that day, although you wouldn’t call yourself friends, the relationship shifted. It changed from nods of acknowledgement to smiles, from waves of greeting to hugs.

During your last years of middle school, you even developed a small crush on him but you never once told Stella, knowing she would have killed you. Once you turned fourteen, Sunghoon left to go for college and you hadn’t seen him since then. You had no idea what he was like now, his personality, his likes and dislikes, his interests. Honestly, the thought worried you a little. You just decided you would try sticking to Stella on the trip, hoping that things wouldn’t be awkward.

Only if you knew. Only if you knew what was about to happen, you never would’ve chosen to go on that godforsaken trip.

-

The last minute nature of your decision to join the vacation meant that tickets weren’t available on the same flight as the Parks, so you booked one for a flight that arrived in Italy just two days later. You didn’t mind however, you were just excited to spend time with Stella.

And so you arrive in the quaint beach town of Taormina, located on the shorelines of the island of Sicily. The drive from the airport to your location spans over rugged hills overlooking the Loian sea. You maintain small talk with the barely english speaking driver, chatting about what to do in town and what beaches to visit. A gasp leaves your mouth as the taxi comes to a halt outside a stunning Italian villa style Airbnb. You know the Parks aren’t exactly middle class, neither were you, but you weren’t expecting this much grandeur.

Cobblestone bricks line the pathway to the house, leaning up against the ivy covered walls. Heaps of colorful potted flowers are placed at the entrance and a wooden gazebo in the corner catches your eye. Stella is sitting in the gazebo, sipping tea. When she sees you, she jumps up in excitement and rushes over.

“You’re here!” She squeals and twirls you around as you both laugh excitedly. You hear claps of joy from the back as Shin-ah, Stella’s mom steps out of the front door, her husband, Ji-hun in close pursuit. You quickly wish the driver goodbye and thank him before hugging them both fondly.

“Gosh, we only just saw you a month ago and you’ve already become prettier!” Shin-ah exclaims, making you blush and immediately resort to your usual ‘humble’ deflections that you recited out like a poem whenever she complimented you.

You lean to the side, getting up onto your tip-toes to get a glimpse of the dark haired boy who just stepped out of the door. Sunghoon. His short black hair was now grown out into a mullet and he no longer held the smiley expression that his face once always used to carry. You glance at his arms, his thin tank top showing off his muscles, a striking difference to his previously scrawny build. He looks so different. He’s grown now and more confident, no longer the sweet, shy boy you used to crush on. Theres no doubt, Sunghoon Park has matured. He’s a man now. A fucking gorgeous man, that too.

Sunghoon murmurs a half-hearted greeting towards you, reminiscent of the way he used to speak to you before you two became comfortable. You’re not surprised-it had been years since you’d seen him. Traces of your previous dynamics were long gone by now. You return the soft greeting as Shin-ah ushers you into the house, Stella following behind, wheeling your luggage in.

“You must be hungry, come, we’ve already set the table.” And sure enough, the intricately carved wooden dining table was all set up with dishes, cutlery and a large pizza in the centre. Dinner with the Parks is comfortable as you go back and forth with them, discussing the trip’s itinerary, recent stories and more.

Shin-ah glances at Sunghoon before turning back to you. “So, you and Sunghoon haven’t seen each other in a while. He’s been asking what you’ve been up to.” It was horribly obvious that Sunghoon couldn’t care less about what you’d been up to. His mouth opens in annoyance at his mother’s words. “What? No I—" But he’s cut off by a sharp nudge from his father who scowls at him. Embarrassment pools inside of you and you laugh awkwardly before Shin-ah nods encouragingly for you to continue.

“Well uh— I’m going to NYU after this summer. I’m going to be studying art history and I’m hoping to get an internship with a local gallery this summer, after the trip of course. But yeah…” You trail off awkwardly as Sunghoon pretends to be interested. An awkward atmosphere settles over the table and you finish in silence.

After dinner, you head up to your room that you’ll be sharing with Stella. You’re sitting on the floor, unpacking your suitcase while she removes her makeup.

“Hey,” she turns to you, “I’m sorry about what happened with Hoon earlier. I don’t know why he’s acting like that.”

You wave it off. “No, don’t worry about it at all, it’s all good. I’m sure it’ll settle down in a while.”

She nods comfortingly but deep down you feel a little hurt. You knew that it wasn’t going to be the same but you didn’t expect him to be so cold.

-

After a few chaotic days of what felt like never-ending sightseeing and cold shoulders from Sunghoon, you finally collapse onto a picnic blanket out in the back-garden, your white sundress pooling around your knees. You roll over onto your stomach, kicking your legs into the air as you grab your book, the pages soft between your hands as you slowly flip through, trying to find where you left off. Pop. The sound of plastic popping as you open the box of glowing red cherries next to you. Your favorite.

You're a few pages in when a soft voice calls from behind you. “Hey.” You glance behind to see him standing there in a loose white shirt and khaki shorts, holding a book. He laughs softly as you scramble to straighten yourself. “No need for that, you can sit however you want.”

“No, no it's okay,” you shake your head, sitting up straight now, confused at his cheerful demeanour “what do you need?”

“I was wondering if I could join you,” he tilted his head, “you seem to be having fun.”

You squeeze internally. Something about Sunghoon was making you nervous right now but you plaster on a sweet smile nonetheless, “of course.”

You’re hyperaware of his every movement as he approaches and sits down next to you on the blanket. He holds up the book he had and it takes you a second to realise that both of you had gotten the same book to read, ‘To Kill a Mockingbird’. You smile at him, “that’s funny.”

“It is, isn’t it?” He hums. “How’s Ben doing?”

You laugh, the anxious feeling in your stomach fading a little. There’s no need to be nervous in the first place, it’s just Sunghoon. “He’s doing okay. No more accidents since the last.”

The two of you fall into silence. He coughs. "Listen... I uh— I didn't mean to act that way when you first came."

You nod almost immediately. "You don't have to explain yourself, I get it, it's fine."

"No, I was acting like a jerk for no reason. I mean- you know how I am with people at first and I hadn't seen you in a while, it just took me a while to get used to. That's not an excuse for how I acted though, I'm sorry."

You peer at him. "I get it, I figured that's the reason you were acting distant. It's okay. I'm glad we can be pause normal again." You both look at each other and for a second you feel him glance at your lips but his eyes move away so fast, it's impossible to tell. He smiles softly at you.

-

Your legs are crossed as you lounge lazily on a chair on the balcony, taking in the view of the salty sea, waves lapping against the rocks. Once again, a box of perfectly round Italian cherries lay on the table behind you. You couldn't seem to get enough of them.

“You must really like these.” Sunghoon murmurs from behind you, pointing at the box of the sweet fruit. You smile lazily at him, not surprised by his interruption. Somehow, he had been finding you in all sorts of odd places recently, almost as if he was looking for you from the second you disappeared from view. It didn't take a genius to figure out that Sunghoon thought you were pretty. You realised fairly quickly from the way his eyes flicked up and down whenever he saw you, resting on your tits for just a second more.

“They’re my favorite.” You nod, grabbing one and popping it into your mouth as he watches. Maybe it's the way he’s staring at you hungrily but a newfound confidence takes over you. You reach for another cherry but this time, you make sure to hold eye contact with him, looking up with big bambi eyes as your tongue swirls around the sweet fruit. You bite into it and the red juice dribbles down your chin, your eyes glinting. His finger instinctively reaches down, a millimetre away from your chin before you nod to give him permission.

He swipes at the juice on your chin, before pulling his finger back, licking it slowly. Your throat suddenly feels like it’s constricting. You should not be doing this— holy shit you should not be doing this. You stand abruptly, coughing slightly. He doesn’t react much but a slight smirk plays on his face. Pause. “I should go,” you stutter as you rush into the house, heart hammering in your chest.

You try your best to ignore him for the next few days because you had no idea what possessed you to do that. Your mind constantly replayed the moment. The way he stared at you. The way he touched you. The way he licked his finger. God you were so fucked. Every time you saw Stella, you couldn’t help but feel guilty but then you tried comforting yourself. It wasn’t like you had done anything wrong, nothing actually happened.

You didn’t even notice what you were doing at first, your actions seemingly innocent in your mind. You just wanted to make the most of the summer clothes you owned and the heat in Taormina was intense, right? But your skirts were growing shorter and shorter by the day, your bikinis became skimpier and skimpier. That, accompanied by the way you tucked your hair behind your ear when he came around, batted your eyelashes at him, knowing it made him crazy-you hadn’t even realised but that little incident between the two of you had made you develop a little obsession with Sunghoon Park, just like the one you had all those years ago. And you were desperate for his attention now.

Right from your shiny olive skin that glistened in the Italian sun to your long hair that swayed as you walked, Sunghoon Park knew you were gorgeous, even more so now that you were making it painfully obvious. He knew. He knew you were doing all of this entirely on purpose but that didn’t mask his staring as you lather on sunscreen, resting beside him in the sand in a floral pink bikini.

You know you have him.

"Hey can you help me with this?" You ask softly, holding out the bottle of sunscreen towards him. His jaw ticks but he takes the bottle from your hand.

"Actually," you smile sweetly, "on second thought, I think I'm done, what do you think?"

If looks could kill, you would strike dead at this very moment from the way he was looking at you. “What’s your game?”

You stare at him, not expecting him to say those words so soon. “What do you mean?” You pout, pretending to be oblivious, a little upset that you didn't get to have that much fun with him before he called you out.

He scoffs. “You know exactly what I mean. Don’t play dumb. You like teasing me and then pulling away at the last moment, don’t you?” When you don’t respond, his expression hardens. “You’re trying to win a game you don’t even know how to play.”

Before you get the chance to respond, the two of you are interrupted as Stella runs to you, laughing.

“Hey are you having fun?” Stella smiles down at you.

“I’m having a great time, thanks.”

She nods as she moves to sit down on the sand, between you and Sunghoon.

Theres a moment of silence before you speak. “Hey Stells, thank you for letting me come. I appreciate it a lot. I would’ve had a terrible summer without you and I’m just really glad we get to spend time together before … you know …”

She smiles at you again. A genuine smile. “I’m gonna miss you. A lot. And I know you’re worried but i’m not, because I know we’ll always be friends. We’ve been through everything together and stupid New York isn’t going to change that.” As she pulls you in for a hug, you feel a pang in your heart. You love your friend and the last thing you want is for her older brother to come between you. But you just can’t help yourself.

You glance up at Sunghoon who's watching you two hug with an emotion in his eyes that you can't quite place. He meets your eyes and you shut yours, unable to look at him any longer. You hold onto Stella tighter, suddenly feeling disgusted with yourself. You're sickening. Sickening and selfish.

-

Your phone screen shows 4:36AM and sleep wasn’t coming. You sit up, rubbing your eyes as you glance at Stella snoring beside you. You get out of bed slowly, the wood creaking beneath you. You desperately needed a walk to clear your mind. Stepping into your fuzzy slippers, you leave the room, entering the narrow corridor outside. Sunghoon’s door stands tall in front of your face, which you would have normally ignored, except today, streaks of light peek out of the crack at the bottom. Why is he awake?

You know you shouldn’t. You know you really shouldn’t but you do it anyways. You knock softly. A few moments pass and you think he might not come. Right as you’re about to leave, the door clicks open and he stands there in grey sweats, shirtless. You choke a little but he doesn’t notice, neither does he seem surprised to see you.

He looks you up and down and you realise what you’re wearing—a tiny pink lace-trim nightgown, barely covering anything. He’s smirking now. “Come in.”

“Uh I—“ You start to say as you begin to regret your decision but you’re cut off by his harsh tone, his smirk now faded, replaced with a hardened expression.

“That wasn't a question. Come. In.”

You swallow nervously as you follow him into the room and shut the door behind you. Sunghoon sits on the edge of the bed, motioning for you to stand in front of him. You do as he asks and now you're staring down at his face, your silky hair hanging loosely, brushing against his cheeks. He starts to grab harshly at your waist and you gasp slightly.

"You think this is funny huh? Playing all these games? Do you have any idea what you're doing at all?" When you don't respond he starts again. “What? Cat got your tongue? Are you all nervous now? Don't be, you started this after all."

You breathe out shakily, hands finding his neck. "Please—"

"Please what?" His smirk is back, he likes that he's finally the one in control. "Say you want me."

"God I want you, I do." You whine pathetically. And whatever little power you may have had over him was gone, he had claimed it back. His dark eyes glint sinisterly as he stands, picking you up by the waist and placing you down onto the bed. Your legs are raised, being held up by his hands as he presses kisses on your left ankle. He slowly makes his way down, nuzzling his nose into your inner thighs. His teeth lock onto your panties and you gasp as he drags them off, discarding them on the floor, leaving you exposed.

"Fuck you're beautiful."

He dives in again, his nose pressing against your clit as he laps harshly at your folds. You throw your head back, a jerk reaction to the sudden sensitivity. You cry out and feel him immediately stop what he was doing. You whine softly in annoyance. "Wow baby, it seems like you really want my sister to know I'm fucking you right now." You swallow harshly as his eyes shoot daggers at you. "Keep. Quiet."

He's looking at your pussy now. You wait, burning to see what he would do. And he spits on it. You gasp, biting your lip to stop the moan. He spits right on your pussy, using his fingers to spread his saliva around your messy area. He begins to lick up your folds again, pressing his tongue down on your clit.

You can't handle it. It's pathetic but you already feel a knot building up in your stomach. "Hoon— I'm going to—"

"Not yet," he spits out, coming up.

You moan weakly in protest but he doesn't seem to care. "You don't deserve to cum yet. You've not been a very good girl have you?" You shake your head.

His hands reach for his pants now, pulling them down in one quick move and you could see how painfully hard he is. Your eyes widen as he pulls out his cock. It was big. Too big. Bigger than you'd ever had before and you didn't know if you would be able to handle it. He laughs, looking at your expression. "Don't worry baby, we'll make it fit."

He pushes your legs up all the way and you were practically bent in half in front of him, your knees blurrily shifting in and out of your peripheral vision. He lines his cock up with your entrance and rubs the tip across your wet folds, groaning softly as his eyes shut. Without warning, he pushes it in and you shriek in surprise, causing him to shove his fingers into your throat. You're choking around his fingers now as he thrusts into you, quickening the pace. Tears stream down your face as you gag, you're close again, you can feel it, but so can he. Just as you're about to reach your high, he stops his motion again and you lean back into the bed, panting hard. You're desperate for release now but as you stare up at his fucked out face through your lashes, smirking down at you, you know he's not going to give you that release anytime soon.

So you go four more rounds. Four more rounds of chasing that desperate high that he pulls away from you at the last moment. You're fucked up now, sweating and panting, your hair splayed across your face as you cried and cried, begging him. The sun had risen now and it pooled in through the window, enveloping you in a warm glow, making your tan skin look golden.

"God baby, you look so fucking sexy right now." Sunghoon reaches an arm towards the desk nearby, where a small pile of digital cameras lay. Stella's digital cameras. The one's she had excitedly bought for the trip, wanting to capture every memory. He points the lens of one of them at you and you don't even have enough energy to protest. Click. And just like that, a picture of you in one of your most fucked up moments was captured forever. He tosses the camera aside, turning his attention back to you.

"You up for one more?"

Strings of gibberish come out from your mouth and he chuckles as he pushes into you once again. He thrusts in and out and you're moaning loudly this time but neither of you cared anymore. You're so sensitive at this point that it doesn't take long for that familiar feeling to arise again. This time, Sunghoon lets you have it. You let out a strangled moan as you feel your orgasm wash over you. Pure fucking euphoria. He collapses on top of you after cumming as well. You reach out, your hands tangling in his hair, stroking his face gently.

You realise you haven't kissed yet. You lean down, placing a gentle kiss on his pink lips. He kisses you back immediately but there is no lust behind it. "You're a goddess, you know that?" He speaks, muffled against your arm. You laugh this time, reaching for the camera next to you. Click. Another picture. But this one is much cuter, the two of you staring into the camera, laughing as your arms are wrapped around him. Click. And another. He's kissing you and you just want to stay in this moment forever.

-

The remainder of the vacation is spent stealing glances and kisses with Sunghoon as you two sneak away at random times together. You visited his room every night, sometimes it was sex and sometimes you just wanted to cuddle.

If there was one thing you were sure of by the end of the vacation, it's that you were madly, madly in love with him. And he was in love with you too.

-

1 month later

You step into your room, flopping onto the bed, exhausted from your shift at the gallery. You pull out your phone to texts from both Stella and Sunghoon. Sunghoon's reads 'see you tomorrow :)' while Stella had texted to cancel your bar plans for the night, wanting to hang out at home instead. You almost feel relieved, too tired to even think of going to the bar. Instead, you quickly change your clothes and head over to the house next door. Shin-ah opens the door and she's delighted to see you as ever.

After exchanging some small talk, you head upstairs to Stella's room, briefly glancing at Sunghoon's door.

"Hey Ste—“ You stop. She isn't there.

You look around, confused for a moment before realising she's sitting outside on the balcony.

"Hey, what's up?" You smile at her as you take the seat beside her.

She doesn't respond, staring straight ahead into the pink sky. She's holding an envelope, nothing too special, just a plain white envelope.

"Do you know what this is?" She speaks for the first time, holding the envelope up, still refusing to look at you.

Your eyebrows furrow. "No?"

She breathes out, finally turning to meet your eyes. You recoil slightly when you see the wild anger looking straight at you. She opens the envelope slowly, almost teasingly. "You know..." She trails, "I recently sent in the film from the trip to be developed."

Your stomach drops.

She knows.

The envelope is finally open and she pulls out three photos. The first one of you laid down on the bed, fucked out with his cock still inside you, then you and Sunghoon are hugging naked, then you're kissing.

You're going to throw up.

"Look at me." She speaks softly, gently, but her voice is full of venom.

You look up to meet her eyes but you just can't do it. Your world is spinning.

"I want you to go to New York," her voice drops to a whisper, "and never come back. I never want to see you again. I never want you to see my brother ever again. Do you understand?"

You're nodding now, pleading silently, tears streaming down your face but you know it's not going to do anything.

She takes your nod as a yes. "Good, then we're clear."

[moonlitsmile]

burning desire 3

꣑୧ — 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟑/ 𝟑 : after mingle they go back to their beds. About a day after that, the chaos broke out, the war starting. y/n stuck in the middle of it going with in-ho to find gi-hun and Jung-bae. But little did she know in-ho was behind it all.

꣑୧- lil warning but not for much. aggressive angry in-ho but getting gentler. crying, dacryphillia, making out, thigh riding, risk of getting caught, nsfw, mentions of blood, guns, and just mean in-ho. lmk if I missed anything ❣︎ oh and plus it’s a long ahh chapter

Reader sat in her bunk, her bread still untouched laying in her lap, the unions milk carton beside it. She stared down at it, still a little shooken up from the mingle game. Shooken up from young-ill. And he noticed it, he decided not to say much. Leave her as that, not wanting to bother her and decided to give her some space. Part of him felt a bit bad doing it in front of her, but another part of him mainly thought she was just pathetic. Cmon, he had to do it. What else could he have done?

She had to understand that. And she somewhat did, but it still was just a little crazy. Sitting in the bottom bunk a little away from the rest of the group, her food layed still wrapped up in front of her, not bothering to touch it. She didn’t really feel like it, but also didn’t have the appetite after seeing all those people dead and dying in front of her eyes a minute ago. It was around evening time now, maybe 8. Not too long before lights out. She was a bit scared, what if something happen tonight? But nothing ever did the other nights. She sat there for a couple more minutes fiddling with the end of her jacket sleeves.

Seeing the dried blood. Still feeling chills. She was zoned out for a moment before she heard his voice. Young-ill. Her eyes softened, almost as if she could still see the cold look in his eyes from earlier when he snapped that man’s neck. “Why aren’t you eating?” He asked lightly. Deciding it was time to talk to her now. He wanted her to talk to him. Not ignore him. He hated when people ignored him. He gently sat down on the matress next to her. “I’m not hungry..” she mumbled quietly. She knew she was. She just didn’t have the appetite to eat.

Looking down at the bread still fresh in the plastic package. His eyes watched her intently. “yes you are.” He said gently. She slowly glanced up at him. Not saying much. He huffed lightly. “Cmon you gotta eat something.” He said. His voice was softer, gentler. Trying to somewhat comfort her, manipulate her into being okay. Make her go back to normal and not see him for the cold and harsh person he was earlier. Even though that’s who he was, he was a bad person.

She couldn’t know that, not yet. Well she already somewhat did, but that wasn’t anything compared to who he really was. He watched as she looked back down. His eyes were still on her. “look at me.. please.” He said. His voice was quiet, light. Almost as a gentle command. He wanted her to listen to him, to stop being dramatic. But part of him loved seeing her like this. She sighed, looking back up at him. Her soft eyes looking into his. “Eat.. just a little yeah?” Taking the bread gently from her lap as he opened it. “It’s good.. try it.” He said gently. Handing it to her. She decided to just take it, so he would stop. But part of her didn’t want him to stop.

She wanted to keep talking to him.. “okay..” she said quietly. Gently taking a bite of the bread. He smiled lightly. His eyes still watching her, god how sweet she looked. How nice she looked doing anything. “see.. good hm?” He said. His voice still gentle, barely above a whisper. They were towards the corner. Some other empty beds around them, no one really paying attention to them. “yeah..” she said gently. Glancing up at him softly before back down at her bread. Gentle lullaby music beginning to lightly play on the speakers. “Players, lights out in 30 minutes.” The woman’s voice on the speaker spoke. She sighed quietly.

“Now tell me why you look so sad.. I hate seeing you like that.” He said gently. Fake act of pity in his deep voice. He was lying, he loved seeing her like this. So vulnerable and weak. All sad and pathetic. He couldn’t stand it. Knowing that it was all his fault making it even better.

She hesitated for a moment, playing with the edge of her bread wrapper. "I just... I've never seen someone die like that before," she whispered, her voice barely audible. Her eyes remained fixed on her lap, unable to meet his gaze.

"It's part of the game," he replied smoothly, reaching out to touch her arm gently. "Sometimes we have to do things we don't want to do to survive." His voice was honey-sweet, masking the darkness that lurked beneath. He watched as she visibly tensed at his touch, but didn't pull away.

"I know that," she said, finally looking up at him. "But it doesn't make it any easier to watch." Her eyes held a mix of fear and something else – a hint of curiosity, perhaps even attraction, that she couldn't quite suppress despite what she'd witnessed.

Young-ill leaned in closer, his presence both comforting and threatening at once. "yeah.. but it gets better eventually," he murmured, his breath warm against her ear. "We’ll all have to do it eventually." His fingers traced small circles on her soft arm, a gesture that seemed caring but held an underlying possessiveness that made her shiver. By doing it.. did he mean killing someone..?

She wanted to believe his gentle facade, wanted to trust in the softness of his voice and the warmth of his touch. But the memory of his cold eyes as he took that man's life kept flashing in her mind, a stark reminder of what he was capable of. Still, she found herself drawn to him, like a moth to a flame that would surely burn her.

"you okay now?" he whispered, his dark eyes locked onto hers. The words sent a chill down her spine – not entirely from fear. “mhm..” she hummed softly. Her eyes locked onto his now.. hypnotized by him again. He knew what he was doing, he smiled gently. The innocent fake smile. His hand moved to brush a piece of her hair behind her ear, thumb brushing softly against her skin.

She found herself leaning into his touch despite her better judgment. Deciding if she should even say it, but it was too late now. “How can you be so gentle now, after..." she trailed off, unable to finish the thought. The contrast between his tenderness and his capacity for violence was dizzying.

Young-ill's expression darkened slightly, though his touch remained soft. "Everything I do, I do for a reason," he said, voice low and gentle. "You understand that, don't you?" His eyes searched hers, seeking not just understanding but acceptance. Acceptance of who he was, of what he could do. Warming her up a bit, just for what was gonna happen tomorrow.

She swallowed hard, caught between wanting to pull away and wanting to move closer. "I understand," she whispered, though she wasn't sure if she truly did. Or if she even wanted to. The bread lay forgotten in her lap as she sat there, trapped in the magnetic pull of his presence.

His lips curved into a small, satisfied smile. It was the kind of smile that made her wonder if she'd just given him exactly what he wanted – though what that was, she couldn't be sure.

The lights dimmed gradually until the room was bathed in a soft, ethereal glow. As darkness settled in for lights out, she remained motionless, aware of Young-ill's presence beside her. His body radiated warmth in the small space between them, his steady breathing matching the rhythm of her quickening heartbeat. Their faces were mere inches apart, close enough that she could feel the gentle whisper of his breath against her skin. The tension built like electricity in the air until he could no longer resist the magnetic pull between them.

His lips found hers in the darkness, gentle at first. She released a shaky, quiet sigh that seemed to echo in the stillness, her body melting into the kiss as if it was the most natural thing in the world. As she responded to his touch, he carefully guided her back onto the mattress, making sure her head rested comfortably against the pillow. Her delicate hands found their way to him instinctively - one settling on his broad shoulder while the other pressed against his chest, feeling his heartbeat through the thin fabric of his shirt.

A low, quiet groan escaped him as he deepened the kiss, his movements becoming more insistent but still carefully controlled. They remained hidden in their corner of the room, shrouded in shadows and relative privacy. Though anxiety flickered at the edges of her consciousness about being discovered, Young-ill seemed to sense her unease. Drawing back slightly, he gazed down at her, his features softened by the dim blue circle light that cast everything in an otherworldly glow.

"Stop that... you're okay," he whispered, his voice impossibly gentle yet commanding, wanting her to forget everything except this moment, except him. His words washed over her like a spell, trying to ease away her concerns about discovery and draw her completely into his world.

He pressed his lips back onto hers, a quiet soft whimper escaping from between her parted lips at the gentle contact. He pulled back immediately, his dark eyes meeting hers with gentle warning. "shh," he shushed tenderly, reminding her of the need for discretion in their hidden corner. The last thing they needed was to draw unwanted attention. His lips found their way to the delicate curve of her neck, causing her eyes to flutter closed at the sensation. She fought to contain a sigh that threatened to escape as he traced featherlight kisses along her sensitive skin, deliberately careful not to mark her. At least not yet, he thought to himself.

Her fingers curled into his shoulders, applying gentle pressure that increased and decreased with each tender kiss. His hands moved with practiced care - one splayed across her chest while the other cradled the back of her head, fingers tangled in her soft hair. The intoxicating feel of her beneath his touch was overwhelming; he couldn't seem to get enough. A breathless sigh escaped him as he gradually guided her to sit up, following her movement to maintain their intimate connection.

She crawled toward him instinctively, closing what little distance remained between them as her lips sought his once more. His hands found her waist, fingers pressing into the soft fabric as he guided her onto his lap until she straddled him.

Her palms came to rest against his chest, feeling his rapid heartbeat beneath them, while his hands explored the curve of her waist before trailing down to the small of her back. In one fluid motion, his fingers moved up to her jacket, carefully slipping it from her shoulders to reveal the white T-shirt beneath, her assigned number stark against the fabric. His eyes caught on the faint remnants of dried blood still visible on the material, a harsh reminder of their reality even in this tender moment.

But he pushed the thought aside, focusing instead on the warmth of her body against his. His hands slid up her sides, fingers ghosting along the thin material of her shirt as he drew her closer. She shivered at his touch, her breath catching in her throat as his lips found the sensitive spot just below her ear.

"hm" he hummed against her skin. His hands continued their gentle exploration, one moving to cup the back of her neck while the other remained firmly at her waist. She melted into his touch, her head falling back slightly to give him better access.

The soft blue glow of the circle light cast shadows across their faces as they moved together in the darkness. His lips traced a path down her neck, each kiss more insistent than the last, though still carefully controlled. She bit her lip to keep from making a sound, her fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt.

Young-ill pulled back slightly, his dark eyes meeting hers with an intensity that made her breath catch. There was something dangerous in that gaze, something that should have made her want to run. Instead, she found herself drawn closer, like a moth to a flame, knowing she might get burned but unable to resist.

Her eyes softly looked into his. His eyes were dark, filled with lust but affection. His hand reached to gently move her hair off her shoulder. “mm you’re so pretty.” He whispered quietly. Leaving no room for talking before pressing his lips back onto hers. Her cheeks were flushed, hands pressed against his chest before moving to his shoulders once more. Getting needier and needier by the second, and he could tell. He slightly shifted his thigh, lips pressing onto hers as his tongue slipped into her soft warm mouth, causing a quiet whimper to escape her lips.

His larger, rough, but gentle hands on her hips as he shifted them. Positioning her so her sweet spot pressed deliberately onto his thigh. Her eyes squeezing slightly. Lips parting from his for a second, her lips all swollen and dark pink from the intense kisses. Her eyes locked onto his nervously, but full of want just like him. His lips pressing back against her neck. “cmon now…” he mumbled quietly against her soft skin he couldn’t get enough of. Hands on her hips as he began to gently move her, a light gentle rocking movement against his leg.

His lips trailed up to her ear, his hot breath sending shivers down her spine. "good girl.." he praised quietly, voice barely above a whisper. His hands guided her movements, keeping her steady as she rocked against him. She buried her face in his neck to muffle the soft sounds threatening to escape her lips, her breathing becoming more ragged with each movement.

Young-ill's grip tightened slightly on her hips, controlling her pace as she moved against him. Her fingers clutched his shoulders tighter, her body trembling slightly. He could feel her getting closer, her movements becoming more desperate. "that's it.." he whispered, one hand moving to tangle in her hair, gently pulling her head back so he could see her face.

Her eyes met his, glazed with desire, lips parted slightly as she tried to control her breathing. He pressed his lips to hers again, swallowing the quiet whimper that escaped her as she reached her peak. Her body shuddered against him as waves of pleasure washed over her, his hands holding her steady as she came down from her high.

As her breathing slowly returned to normal, Young-ill pressed gentle kisses along her jaw, up to her ear. "such a good girl for me," he murmured, his voice thick with satisfaction. She melted against him, completely under his spell, exactly where he wanted her.

-

The next morning she awoke once again, the light music playing on the speakers welcoming a new day. Laying back in her own bed. She sat up, yawning softly, she slept well last night. Sitting in bed for a moment, looking down at her lap. Her cheeks turning a faint hue of pink as she smiled to herself, remembering last night with young-ill. Their group was already up sitting down and eating their breakbeats.

She made her way over to the group, her eyes immediately scanning for Young-ill. He was already there, casually eating his breakfast while chatting with others. Their eyes met briefly, and she caught the ghost of a smirk playing on his lips before he turned back to his conversation.

The food today was simple - not a big variety. She picked at it absently, her mind still clouded with memories from the night before. The way his hands had felt, his whispered words, the intensity in his dark eyes...

"Hey, you okay?" dae-ho asked beside her, snapping her out of her thoughts. "You're barely touching your food."

"Oh, yeah," she replied quickly, forcing herself to take a bite. "Just... didn't sleep well." The lie felt clumsy on her tongue, especially when she caught Young-ill's knowing glance.

-

Later that evening it was another round of voting. But this time it was tied between the X’s and O’s. Reader sighed in belief. As long it was tied, not the o’s winning again. She couldn’t wait to get out of this hell hole, she believed she would. Later on the dinner was gave out. they gave out some simple kimbap, the group ate. They all sat together. Reader was sitting next to Jung-bae at the end.

Across from her sitting was young-ill. Looking down at her food as she used the metal fork to pick a piece of kimbap up and eat it. “You know, young-ill” dae-ho began. His mouth stuff with food before swallowing it. “I thought you might vote in favor, like on day one.” He said. “I was so nervous i couldn’t watch” he said once more. This time young-Ill voted X to go home. But last time he voted yes. She still wondered why he did, but now he seemed nice. Teaming up with the X to go home.

Later that evening, the atmosphere was thick with tension as the group prepared for yet another round of voting. This time, however, the results were far from clear-cut; they found themselves in a deadlock, with the votes split evenly between the X’s and O’s. Reader let out a deep sigh, a mixture of frustration and resignation washing over her. At least the situation was relatively stable for now, and she was relieved that the O's weren't winning again—at least not yet.

The oppressive feeling of being trapped in this hellhole began to weigh heavily on her, but she clung to the hope that one day she would find a way to escape. As the evening wore on, the group was served dinner, a simple yet comforting meal of kimbap, reader found herself sitting next to Jung-bae, who had quietly observed the unfolding drama, while directly across from her was Young-ill, his expression low as he focused on his food.

She glanced down at her own plate, using a metal fork to pick up a piece of kimbap, its flavors a welcome distraction. Suddenly, Dae-ho broke the silence, his mouth half-full as he spoke, “You know, Young-ill,” he began, pausing to swallow his bite before continuing, “I thought you might vote in favor, just like you did on day one.” His voice was a mix of curiosity and disbelief, as if he couldn't quite wrap his head around Young-ill's shift in stance. “I was so nervous I couldn’t watch,” he added, his tone lightening a bit,

but reader could sense the underlying tension in his words. It struck her as peculiar that Young-ill, who had voted in favor of the O's last time, had now switched to casting his lot with the X’s, yearning for a way out. She couldn't help but wonder the reasons behind his change of heart, yet she also noticed a subtle shift in his demeanor; he seemed more calm now, as if teaming up with the X’s had softened his edges.

-

After the chaos between the X’s and O’s stopped, it was bathroom time. People heading to the bathroom while the others who didn’t have to stayed back in the room. Reader sat on one of the mattresses. Talking with 222. About how she wanted to get out of here. But not once did she mention anything about young-ill and what they did last night. She liked him.. a lot. Young-ill was sitting with gi-hun and the others.

A couple minutes passed before she heard the speaker come on. Everybody glancing in confusion. “The following players have been eliminated. Players 230, 268, 299, 331, and 401. End of list” reader gasped softly. All of those people dead.. now? It must’ve been the X’s and O’s fighting in the bathroom. But thank goodness young-ill didn’t go in there, or any of the others. But knowing young-ill, if he was in there he’d survive.

She sat there for a moment, trying to process what had just happened. The reality of their situation hit her harder than ever - people were dying, and they were dying fast. Her eyes drifted to Young-ill across the room, watching as he spoke quietly with the others. Despite everything happening around them, she felt a strange sense of safety when he was near.

222 noticed her distraction and followed her gaze. "You okay?" she asked softly, genuine concern in her voice. Reader nodded quickly, forcing her attention back to their conversation. But her mind kept wandering to the bathroom, to the violence that must have unfolded there. Five more people gone, just like that.

The sound of footsteps drew everyone's attention as the survivors from the bathroom began filtering back into the room. Their faces were grim, some spattered with blood, others looking haunted by what they'd witnessed. Nobody spoke about what happened - they didn't need to. The empty spaces where five players should have been told the story clearly enough.

Young-ill's eyes met hers across the room, and she could see the tension in his jaw, the calculating look in his dark eyes as he assessed the situation. He gave her a subtle nod, a silent reassurance that seemed to say "stay close, stay safe." She returned the gesture, grateful for his presence, even from afar.

-

Chaos is what it was. What was happening was straight chaos and mayhem. Who in their right mind came up with the idea? Oh... it was Gi-hun. Their group had fought back the guards and stolen the guns. So now what? They were going to find the control room to find the Front Man. Reader had gone with them, staying with In-ho and the others while Gi-hun and Jung-bae went off to the control room. In-ho had insisted she stay back... but she persisted. He couldn't help but get slightly frustrated—she'd distract him from his plan.

But he couldn't let her get in the way, even if that meant she found out he was the Front Man. The sounds of the guns blaring made reader flinch, shaking as her breath grew heavy and shaky. Why did she do this? But she had to be tough. She knew how to somewhat use a gun, so she was helping out some, until the ammo ran out. The light clicking sound of the empty gun. She stared down at the gun, blood splattered on her jacket and shirt. The others must've been running out of ammo too, and Gi-hun and Jung-bae were taking too long at the control room.

"This isn't getting us anywhere! Let's follow them to the upper level!" the man yelled, gun in his hand. She was crouched behind the pink wall as all the guards were on the other side of the large room with staircases and rooms. In-ho glared intensely at the man before replying, "We might get surrounded if we move together without a plan."

Reader shakily huffed. She was out of ammo, and the last thing they could do was follow them to the control room while someone else went to fetch more ammo from the pockets of the dead guards. "Let's—let's just go! There's nothing else we can do," reader said, her voice yelling over the gunshots.

"No," he said, glancing at her before turning to shoot at the guards once again before quickly hiding behind the wall. "Let's wait until they find the control room," he said, his breathing shaky but concentrated. Suddenly gunshots grew closer, and one of their teammates was shot right in front of their eyes. She gasped. Two guards came around the corner shooting before quickly getting shot by 246 and 120. He saw reader crouched there vulnerably. No ammo. He huffed—why did she come along?

"Get over here," he said firmly. He needed to protect her, make sure she'd stay safe. She quickly crawled over to where he was, sitting beside him, her knees bunched up to her chest.

"Don't move," he said strictly, going back to shoot at the guards.

"Everyone! Check your magazines!" 120 said, everybody quickly checking their ammo.

“I’m down to half.” 246 said. “I’ve got less than half” “Same!” The other players yelled over the gunshots, “I’ve for two-thirds left!” Player 15 yelled. “I’m almost out!” Another said. “Mine is empty!” Dae-ho said shakily. His voice was filled with fear. Glad to know she wasn’t the onto one out.. but she was freaking out as much as dae-ho. Feeling somewhat safe next to young-il. “I’m almost out too!” Young-ill said. Her eyes glanced up at him nervously. Seeing him so concentrated, the dried blood on his clothes and some on his neck.

It gave her flashbacks from earlier mingle game, his eyes filled with coldness and despair. “Young-il, Dae-ho can you hear me!” Jung-baes voice ringing out on the walkie talkie. “Go ahead.” “I think we’re right below the control room, but we need backup and more ammo” “we’re running out of ammo too!” “There should be spare magazines in the soldiers pockets in our quarters. Go get them!” Gi-hun said frantically over the mic. “Got it.” In-ho said. Reader looked at him, her gaze with with anticipation and still fear. “Did you hear that? They need backup.” In-ho said to the others. “Three of us will go, and the rest of us stay.” He said. “Who wants to go with me?” “I’ll go!” “Me too” 2 of the players said. Reader glanced at young-ill. “M-me too” she said. Her voice was filled with emotion. She didn’t want to be left behind. She had no ammo, what was any good being here. “No you stay here.” He said firmly to her. His cold eyes looking down at her.

She shook her head frantically. “I’m going.” She said, she needed to. She needed to be with young-il. He sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. He knew better than to try and reason with her so he agreed. “Fine.. let’s go.” He said firmly to her and the others. Quickly scurrying out the space and to the stairs.

-

They made their way cautiously down a dimly lit purple hallway, with Reader staying closely behind Young-il, her trembling hand resting gently against his back. Though there was no real risk of losing him in the narrow corridor, she found herself drawn to maintain that physical connection, seeking whatever small comfort it could provide in their dire situation. Her nerves were clearly visible in the slight tremor of her fingers and the way she startled at every echo of their footsteps, though Young-il appeared unfazed by her proximity. His mind seemed elsewhere, focused intently on whatever plan was forming behind those calculating eyes.

As they ascended the stairwell, the harsh glare of a security camera caught their attention from its perch in the corner. The rest of their group moved ahead, but Reader remained steadfast in her position behind Young-il, who paused briefly to study the camera before continuing their advance. There was something almost familiar in the way he navigated these corridors, Reader noticed, as if he'd walked them a hundred times before. She quickly dismissed the thought as paranoia born from stress.

Rounding the next corner, they encountered Gi-hun and Jung-bae positioned strategically against the wall. "Gi-hun! Did you find the control room?" Young-il called out in a hushed but urgent tone. "I think it's right up there but we can't go this way. I want you to find another way," Gi-hun responded, gesturing upward. Reader listened intently, unconsciously pressing closer to Young-il as she absorbed every detail of their exchange.

"I did a quick scan of the layout here. I'm sure there's a way to go around them. I want you guys to keep their focus on you. We'll hit them from behind," Young-il explained, his voice carrying the quiet authority of someone used to giving orders. "Okay... wait. Here take this. You're gonna need it," Gi-hun offered, extending extra ammunition. "Are you sure?" Young-il questioned. "Dae-ho will be back with more," came the confident reply.

While Gi-hun and Jung-bae created a diversion, engaging the guards with sustained fire from their position, Young-il seized the opportunity to lead their small group past the danger zone. Reader stayed right on his heels, her breathing coming in short, shallow gasps that she struggled to keep silent.

Sensing her distress, Young-il turned to her with an unexpected gentleness in his voice. "It's okay. You'll be okay," he murmured, his eyes meeting hers with an enigmatic mix of emotions - there was softness there, but also something darker, more intense, like barely contained hunger mingled with unwavering focus. She managed a small nod in response, continuing to follow his lead through the treacherous facility.

-

They had finally reached the other side of the hallway, their footsteps carefully measured as they ascended the steps in formation behind Young-il. With practiced precision, they positioned themselves against the two walls before continuing up the dimly lit corridor. Reader found herself positioned beside In-ho, her heart pounding in her chest. The absence of a weapon left her feeling particularly vulnerable, and she couldn't help but cast anxious glances at her companion standing tall beside her.

"Gi-hun, we found it . Start attacking and draw their attention, then we'll hit from behind," Young-il spoke into the walkie-talkie, his voice barely above a whisper but carrying unmistakable authority. "Okay got it!" came Gi-hun's determined reply through the static. Within moments, the hallway erupted with the deafening sound of gunfire as Gi-hun and Jung-bae engaged the guards, who remained oblivious to the threat lurking behind them.

Young-il gestured silently to the two team members who had accompanied them, directing them to advance and attack the guards from behind while he maintained his position. Reader observed his unusual hesitation, her brow furrowing with concern. "Why aren't you moving forward with them?" she whispered, searching his face for answers. But Young-il remained silent, his expression unreadable as he deliberately ignored her question, instead slowly ascending the stairs behind his teammates.

What happened next occurred with devastating swiftness - just as their teammates prepared to engage the guards, Young-il's weapon suddenly turned on them instead. The sound of his gunshots echoed through the space, and she couldn't suppress her horrified gasp, her hand flying to her mouth in shock and disbelief. "What is wrong with y-" she cried out, her voice breaking with raw emotion and terror. Her eyes began to sting with tears as the reality of what she'd witnessed sank in - he had murdered his own teammates in cold blood.

"Don't move." His command cut through the air like ice, his voice hard and unyielding, filled with a dangerous mixture of frustration and intense focus. He turned to face her, his weapon now trained directly on her trembling form at the bottom of the stairs. She flinched involuntarily, knowing she had no choice but to comply. Tears streamed down her face as she watched him methodically reload his weapon and fire additional shots into his fallen comrades, ensuring their deaths were certain. With chilling composure, he then used the walkie-talkie to fabricate a story of his own demise to Gi-hun.

The moment his back was turned, something in her snapped. She rushed up the stairs toward the fallen men, dropping to her knees beside them. Her hands shook violently as she tried to rouse them, though she knew it was futile. "I told you to stay there," he growled, his patience clearly wearing thin. But she couldn't stop herself, her grief overwhelming any sense of self-preservation. "How could you do this?" she sobbed, her voice trembling with betrayal and anguish. The trust she had carefully built with him lay shattered like glass at her feet.

"Step away from them." His voice had dropped to a dangerous low, his cold gaze boring into her as she continued to weep over the bodies. "No," she whispered, the word barely audible through her tears. His frustration manifested in a quiet huff. "Move away from them. Now." Each word was delivered with increasing menace, his tone brooking no argument.

She lifted her tear-stained face to meet his gaze, her eyes wide with fear and defiance. "You’re insufferable..." he muttered under his breath, and couldn’t help but chuckle. His eyes looking down at her as she cried and cried. God it was just so amazing to him. He loved seeing her like this, so vulnerable and alone. But at the same time he couldn’t stand it. So with a subtle nod of his head, he signaled to something - or someone - behind her. Before she could fully turn to look, darkness claimed her consciousness and the air was forcefully expelled from her lungs.

-

As consciousness slipped back in, clarity fought against the haze of confusion, snapping at her senses like the sharp edges of a memory she desperately wished to forget. She blinked into the dim light, slowly taking in her surroundings—an unfamiliar room that looked very modest. Black walls.. dim lighting and nice furniture. A soft blanket under her.. she was laying in a bed. Who’s bed? She was at these games.. not home. Until it all came rushing back to her. Getting knocked out, kneeling by a dead body, that young-ll killed.

Panic clawed at her throat as she sat up, the ache in her head shooting flashes of pain through her skull. Her hand instinctively reached for the bandage wrapped around her temple, remembering the betrayal that had knocked her into darkness.

And then she saw him.

A man Leaning against a wall, he wore all black clothing. And a black mask. Her eyes were filled with a hint of fear and confusion. Was this the frontman? The one gi-hun had told them about. He then slowly took the mask off. he looked both familiar and different. The man who once whispered sweet promises now bore the weight of quiet remorse on his features. His gaze met hers, an unspoken longing stretching between them, coated in memories she wasn't ready to relive. Her heart stopped. Young-il. Her young-il. Was behind all of this..

“You’re up.” he said, his voice thick with emotion, cutting through the silence like a knife.

She turned her head away, the churning of her heart conflicted. Love had flickered within her once, but now it was gone, in disbelief. “Why am I here?” she managed to ask, her voice steady despite the fear and sadness built up in her.

“Because I couldn’t let you go,” he replied, taking a step closer, the warmth of his presence both comforting and suffocating.

She shook her head, the very idea of his proximity igniting a spark of anger. “You don’t get to decide that for me.

He looked different. Not the same man who was saying sweet things to her and comforting her. His hair was still somewhat messy but also fixed more nicely now. And he was in different clothes. And a whole new person

His demeanor had shifted entirely - gone was the vulnerable soldier she'd known, replaced by someone who carried himself with an air of authority and control. The change was jarring, like looking at a photograph that had been altered just enough to feel wrong. His eyes, once filled with what she thought was warmth and protection, now held a calculated intensity that made her shiver. He looked different. Not the same man who was saying sweet things to her and comforting her. His hair was still somewhat messy but also fixed more nicely now. And he was in different clothes. And a whole new person

"You're afraid of me now," he stated matter-of-factly, taking another step closer. It wasn't a question. His movements were more deliberate now, almost predatory, lacking the hesitation she'd grown accustomed to during their time in the games.

"I trusted you," she whispered, her voice catching. "Everything... was it all just an act?"

A ghost of a smile played at the corners of his mouth, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Not everything," he replied, his voice softer than before, though still carrying that edge of authority. "My feelings for you... those were real. Are real. That's why you're here."

She wanted to laugh at the absurdity of it all - how could he speak of feelings while standing there in his carefully pressed clothes, looking every bit the mastermind behind their suffering? The contrast between the man she thought she knew and the one before her now was too stark to reconcile.

Her eyes began tearing up once more, beginning to cry again. And a soft groan left his lips. "Oh, don't cry," he cooed, but his tone held a note of dark satisfaction. He moved closer, reaching out to brush a tear from her cheek with his thumb. The cool material of his black glove on her cheek made her shudder. "Though I must admit, you look absolutely breathtaking when you cry."

She jerked away from his touch, which only seemed to amuse him more. His eyes sparkled with a mixture of desire and cruel entertainment.

"You can hate me all you want," he continued, his voice dropping to a seductive whisper. "But we both know you're not going anywhere. And honestly..." He tilted his head, studying her tear-stained face with fascination. "The more you cry, the more I want to keep you here forever."

His words sent a chill down her spine, but there was something in his gaze that told her he meant every word. He was enjoying this - her fear, her tears, her helplessness. It was all part of some twisted game he was playing, and she was trapped in it.

"Such pretty tears," he murmured, reaching for her face again. “Stop” she said shakily as she pulled away from him.

He chuckled darkly at her resistance, seeming to draw satisfaction from it. "You know," he mused, his voice taking on a contemplative tone, "I've been watching you since the beginning. The way you moved, the way you trusted so easily..." His eyes darkened with something predatory. "It was almost too perfect."

She felt her stomach turn at his words. "You're sick," she spat, though her voice trembled. "All those people... they died because of you."

"They died because they chose to play," he corrected smoothly, settling himself on the edge of the bed. The casual way he invaded her space made her press herself further against the headboard. "But you... you're different. Special."

"I'm not special," she protested, wrapping her arms around herself. "I'm just another player you manipulated."

His laugh was soft but cruel. "oh is it now?" he purred, reaching out to trail a gloved finger along her jaw despite her attempt to flinch away. "You have no idea how special you are. The way you wear your heart on your sleeve, the way you care so deeply for others..." His grip suddenly tightened on her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze. "It's intoxicating."

"Let me go," she whispered, tears continuing to fall. "Please."

"Now why would I do that?" he asked, his thumb wiping away her tears with mock tenderness. "When I've worked so hard to have you all to myself?" His eyes gleamed with dark possession. "No, You're exactly where you belong now."

The finality in his voice made her blood run cold. She realized with growing horror that this wasn't just a temporary captivity - this was his endgame all along. And as his possessive gaze bore into her, she understood that her nightmare was only beginning.

Her heart raced as he stood up from the bed, towering over her with that same predatory smile. "Get some rest," he said softly, almost tenderly, but the command in his voice was unmistakable. "We have all the time in the world now." With that, he turned and walked towards the door, his footsteps echoing in the silence.

The sound of the lock clicking into place was deafening in the quiet room. She curled into herself, letting the tears fall freely now that she was alone. The reality of her situation crashed over her like a wave - she was trapped here, with a man who wore the face of someone she once trusted but harbored the soul of a monster. And the worst part? A small, traitorous part of her still remembered the gentle touches, the soft words, the moments when she thought she saw real humanity in his eyes. But now she understood - those moments were just another part of his calculated game, designed to draw her in, to make her trust him.

To make her his.

a/n- and with that it’s finished! FINALLY I know I know I’m sorry but maybe this will finally help me continue some other stories in my drafts. Tell me if you liked this, part 3 of this is lowk buns I’m so sorry I’m just so glad I got it done. But I have soccer and practices so that’s partly why too. SORRY I GOTCHU ILL DROP MORE TOMORROW (no I won’t)

[nthewriter]

“Since when?”

“A very long time.” Simon replied, throat dry, as he observed her shaking hands getting away from the stove and the skillet she was using. It was the hardest thing he was doing and going through ever since he had lost Johnny. “Love, sit down please-“

“Don’t call me love!” She roared back, tears rolling down her cheeks, vulnerable and hurt and broken.

She slid down the kitchen counter, with a breaking wail, the kind that tore someone apart, the kind that shook the entire body. in this instant, Simon felt like watching a woman breaking down, the pieces falling apart quickly, like a building being demolished by a bomb. Everything came back to Johnny, he realised.

Slowly, he crouched down next to her, his wife, the woman who had abandoned a lot for him, who had stood there in the hospital after he deliberately let himself be shot so he could be reunited with Johnny, grabbing his hand, soothed his nightmares and for once, he felt regret. Regret that he hadn’t have the bravery to tell her that he had liked another, regret that he had pulled her into his own mess.

“I’m really sorry.” He spoke, and he didn’t realise his own tears were rolling down his cheeks, splattering around the orange tilted floor. Why was he crying? He didn’t ruin his own life, he ruined hers.

“I was just some fun for you?!” She yelled and she was right to yell, to be angry, furious at him. As quickly as it came, her ferocity died down. “You never loved me…”

What to do now? Simon had decided to take the sofa, sleeping on it in the one bedroom flat he had bought because he knew she had loved it. Now that his secret was out, that his failure and cheating was known to the one person that never hurt him, that put himself before herself, what was there to do?

He couldn’t possibly leave. Where would he go? His meager disability allowance from the UK government was not enough to cover another move. He couldn’t rent a flat. He was stuck.

He heard her waking up for work. He slowly sat down, his hip pain bursting through his body, as he watched her walk around quietly, as if to not disturb him. Even if he had hurt her, she was still caring for him. And it made his heart break even more.

When she came back, she sat down at the table. He took a seat in front of her. She looked calm and put together despite what he had revealed to her last night, but in her eyes, he could see the storm.

“What do we do now?” She had asked out loud. But in a way, Simon knew she seemed to have her own idea about their situation. “Did you ever love me?” She then questioned, this question came from her broken self esteem, he realised.

“I love you.” Simon spoke in a confident tone. It was the truth. He loved her.

“Then why did you say you were in love with someone else?”

“It’s the truth.” He replied to her questions with an honesty he didn’t believe he could manage. No more lies. “I… I fear Johnny will always be my true love, my soulmate.”

“And I am just the dumb chick that you married?” She told him with sarcasm.

“No. Don’t say that.”

“But here we are! Do you only love me because I cook for you, I pay for everything, I wash you-“

“You make me a whole again.” Simon cut her mid sentence. “You may not believe me, and I am sorry, it’s really my fault. I don’t know how to say it but- Johnny was my other half. When he died, I felt… dead inside. But you came in, you brought your sunshine with you and you put something back into me.” He looked down at his hands. “I’m sorry I hurt you. It wasn’t my intentions. But I will die again if you leave.” And he knew she would die too if he left.

There was a very heavy silence. He could see different emotions in her eyes. In a moment, he was frightened she would throw him out and file for divorce. Everything he had said was true. Johnny had been his soulmate yes, but this woman was the missing piece of the puzzle that made him a human. And who said you only had one soulmate?

“I will cook spaghetti.” She finally whispered, tears in her eyes as she stood up and went around in the kitchen.

For Simon, it meant everything.

[sturniololuvz]

Can you do one where Chris’s daughter is like 15 and she’s like sweetest most innocent girl ever, but Chris starts to notice that she hasn’t asked for him to buy her pads in a while, he never thought she would be pregnant so when he took her to the doctors thinking something was wrong they told him she was pregnant, he gets rlly mad at first and they don’t talk, but then he realizes that he needs to comfort her

“You’ll Always Be My Girl”

Chris Sturniolo x daughter!Y/N (age 15)

Chris always prided himself on the relationship he had with his daughter, Y/N. At 15, she was sweet, polite, and honestly the kindest soul he knew. She never snuck out, never talked back, and still told him she loved him before bed every night.

So when he realized it had been months since she’d asked him to grab her pads during a store run—something she’d always shyly requested, usually through a quick text—it didn’t even register at first.

Until he started thinking more.

She’d been quieter lately. Sleeping more. Skipping meals here and there, but then suddenly being really hungry. And the hoodie she loved that used to hang loose now clung a little tighter around her middle.

He hated that his first thought wasn’t pregnancy. That was the last thing that crossed his mind. Because Y/N? His baby girl? No. She was the innocent one. His little artist, who still doodled flowers on napkins and cried at Disney movies.

But when she mentioned one night that her stomach hurt, Chris didn’t hesitate—he brought her straight to the doctor, thinking maybe it was her appendix or a hormonal issue.

He sat beside her in the exam room, tapping his knee, worried.

Then the doctor came in. A pause.

A soft smile.

And the words that shattered him.

“She’s pregnant. About 13 weeks.”

Chris blinked. “I’m sorry, what?”

Y/N froze beside him, eyes wide, silent.

The ride home was dead quiet. He didn’t yell—not yet. But the second they walked into the house and the door clicked shut, it all hit.

“You’re pregnant?” His voice cracked. “Pregnant, Y/N?!”

She flinched. “Dad—”

“Who is he?” Chris demanded. “When did this happen? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I was scared—” she whispered, eyes filling with tears.

“Scared? Y/N, we talk about everything! How could you hide something like this?!” He ran his hands over his face, pacing. “I—God, I thought you were sick! I thought something was wrong! And you are pregnant?!”

Tears ran freely down her cheeks. “I didn’t mean for it to happen…”

Chris’s voice dropped, shaking. “I thought you were smarter than this.”

And just like that, her heart cracked. She nodded slowly, turning away from him and going upstairs without another word.

He didn’t follow.

That night was the first time in fifteen years they didn’t say goodnight to each other.

⸻

Two days passed.

Chris barely slept. He heard her crying through the wall that first night and sat outside her door with his back pressed to it, but couldn’t find the courage to knock.

He kept replaying it in his head—how small she looked in that oversized hoodie, how scared she sounded, how crushed she was when he said she wasn’t smart.

It haunted him.

He finally broke on day three, walking into her room without knocking. She was curled up in bed, eyes puffy, facing the wall.

“Y/N,” he said softly. “Can I talk to you?”

No response.

He stepped closer, voice cracking. “I messed up. I was angry, but… not at you. At myself. I failed you.”

She turned, barely able to meet his eyes. “You said I wasn’t smart.”

He dropped to his knees at the side of her bed. “I was wrong. I was scared, and I took it out on you.” His eyes welled up. “You’re the smartest, most thoughtful person I know. And I shouldn’t have made you feel like you couldn’t come to me.”

Her voice was hoarse. “I didn’t know what to do.”

Chris reached out, brushing her hair from her face like he used to when she was little. “You’re not alone, okay? Not for a second. We’re gonna figure this out together. I don’t care how hard it gets—you’re my daughter. You’ll always be my girl.”

She finally broke, falling into his arms, sobbing into his shoulder. “I’m so scared, Dad.”

He held her tighter than ever. “Me too, baby. But I’ve got you. Always.”

⸻

That night, they laid in bed together just like they used to when she had nightmares. And while the future was uncertain, one thing wasn’t:

Chris would never stop being there for her. Not as her judge. Not even just as her dad.

But as her protector. Her home.

Forever.

⸻

[atlanticum]

A rundown of my favorite "The Queen of Nothing" moments<33333

• Does he have a new seneschal? Does he have a new lover? <…> Does he talk about me?…

• “Love is stupid. All we do is break one another's hearts.” I feel like Jude agreed with Heather at that moment:/

• “You,” I say to my twin. “Get out.” YOU GO GIRL

• “Locke is dead” LADIES AND GENTLEMEN THIS IS THE MOMENT WE’VE ALL BEEN WAITING FOR

• The very thought of being there, of seeing Cardan, speeds my heart. Oh juuuuude

• "I knew you liked her," says Locke. "That's why I had to have her first. Do you remember the party in my maze garden? How I kissed her while you watched?" "I recall that your hands were on her, but her eyes were on me," Cardan returns. I FUCKING LOVE THIS

• "I loved him." "Sometimes I believed that you did, yes," Cardan says absently. AND THE FACT THAT HE KNEW IT WAS JUDE

• "Jude never loved Locke." "She loved someone else. He's the one she'd want dead.” —or in her bed who knows;)?!

• WHEN CARDAN SAYS HE’LL “EXAMINE” HER ALONE IN HIS CHAMBERS. Naughtyyy boy;)

• “Well, didn’t you get my letters?” “What letters?” THIS LITERALLY RIPS MY HEART OUT AND TEARS IT TO SHREDS

• "Jude, you can't really think I don't know it's you. I knew you from the moment you walked into the brugh." *Crying, screaming, throwing up*

• When Cardan tries to explain the exile to her and that it was all a trick that she was supposed to figure out and be proud of him, but he doesn’t have enough time… :(

• I am the Queen of Elfhame. Even though I am the queen in exile, I am still the queen. And that means Madoc isn't just trying to take Cardan's throne. He's trying to take mine.

• The fact that even when The Ghost betrayed her, when Jude found him she still wanted to save him!!! SHE’S THE BEST

• I'm not going to let myself get distracted by letters I never received or the way he looked at me when we were alone in his rooms or my father's theories about his weaknesses. I’m a tad speechless…

• WHEN THE ROACH COMES TO SAVE HER WITH CARDAAAAN!!! AND FOR HER HE LOOKS EVERY INCH A SPY FROM THE COURT OF SHADOWS

• “That boy is your weakness” OH WOW stupid Madoc is right about one thing. SHOCKER.

• Let Cardan not be shot. Let the Ghost be clumsy. Let me get inside easily. Let me stop him.

I do not pause to ask myself why I am in such a panic to save someone for whom I swore I rooted out every feeling. I will not think about that. Oh, sweetheart.

• “Do not touch her. She is my wife," Cardan says, his voice carrying over the crowd. “The rightful High Queen of Elfhame. And most definitely not in exile." CHILLS. literal chills.

• Cardan stands over me. <…> His white sleeves are rolled up, and he’s washing my hands with a wet cloth. My gods, i’m dying, he cares about her so much

• (about the gown)>> It is perhaps too plain for a queen, but Cardan is extravagant enough for both of us.

• “And the next thing we know, the High King is on our doorstep looking ready to tear down the whole apartment complex to find you” AAGHAHAHA I LOVE HIM

• “It was terrifying watching you fall. I mean you’re generally terrifying, but I am unused to fearing for you. And then I was furious. I am not sure I have ever been that angry before”

• “I was afraid of you when I had a knife to your throat” this tore my heart open

• “This is my room” he points out, affronted “And that’s my wife”. FUCK YEAH “So you keep telling everyone” the bomb says AAAHAH LOVE HER

• “Oh, I don’t know,” I say “Maybe he’d like to hear me scream”. oh he would “I would” Cardan says “And perhaps one day I will” I’M FOLDED.

• “Unlike Locke, I never thought love was a game” he says “You may accuse me of much, but not that” oh boy

• “I offer my queen’s hospitality. The hospitality of knives” ah, yes, badass jude

• “You looked like a knight in a story tonight” I’M ON MY KNEES CRYING. THIS IS TOO CUTE.

• “By you, I am forever undone” I AM SCREAAAAMINGGGGGG

• “My sweet nemesis, how glad I am that you returned”

• “It’s you I love” he says “I spent much of my life guarding my heart. I guarded it so well that I could behave as though I didn’t have one at all. Even now, it is a shabby, worm-eaten, and scabrous thing. But it is yours” ABSOLUTELY MELTINGGGGG

• I can’t believe he said that and then just walked out, leaving me reeling. I am going to strangle him. I adore her

• When the bomb hugs her once they see each other, when Cardan was turned into a snake.

• “Please. I will do whatever you want. I will give up the crown. I will make any bargain. Just please fix him. Help me break the curse” im gonna cry

• I was happy, just before everything went so terribly wrong. This is gut wrenching

• They won. Everything was going to work out. AND HE LOVED HER

• “I would settle for even his worst self, his cruelest trickster self, if only he could be here” THIS IS ENEMIES TO LOVERS AHAAHAHA

• The Ghost’s eyebrows rise, and he glances at me. I grin.

• Like the whole thing how the Roach is telling the Bomb that he loves her is hilarious and super cute.

• The way Jude thinks that she can never tell Cardan how she feels is so sad. If Holly black had actually killed him off I would have died with him.

• “With my whole heart, I wish Cardan was here” she is longing for his annoyance I CANNNOT

• WHEN NICASIA TOLD HER THAT HE SENT THE GOWN I WAS SCREAMING MY GODSsss “He never told you, did he?”

• “And I saw the way you used to look at him when you didn’t think anyone was watching you” AAAH YESSS

• He’s every bit as terrifying as any serpent. i don’t care. I run into his arms. IM ON THE FLOOR SOBBING

• He holds me as though I am the only solid thing in the world. im absolutely dead in the best way possible

• “You don’t want me dead” “If you joke about this, I am going to—“ “Kill me?” I think I might hate him after all Thin line between love and hate, right Jude;)

• “I knew little else, but I always knew you” MY HEART IS EXPLODING

• And when he kisses me, I feel as though I can finally breathe again. MY HEART SQUEEZED IN THE BEST POSSIBLE WAY

• When Cardan silences Randalin when he interrupts Jude. You tell them KING

• THEY’RE CELEBRATING THAT THEY GOT MARRIED YEYYYYYYYYY

• When Cardan adjust his crown and she rolLs HeR eYeS and HE GRINS.

• To family and Faerieland and pizza and stories and new beginnings and scheming great schemes. I can toast to that.

i’m absolutely in love with these series🤍

[budgiesunset]

The Youngest Toretto || GN!Reader (Longer Version)

•Summary• You are the youngest Toretto sibling. ⚠️Warning’s⚠️ Blood, Major Character death, slight swearing, slight violence, gun, gun wound, Angst might make you cry might not. •A/N• Please let me know if any mistakes. I did try to make this gender neutral but let me know if J should change anything. This is not proof read.

*** You were sitting in the cafe finishing off some last minute homework while Mia was behind the counter making sure that you finished it correctly. You then heard a car pull up outside and turned your head to see Brian walking over. “Mia look who’s here” you teased Mia just stared at you clearly annoyed at you “just do your homework” she huffed before smiling at Brian as he entered the cafe and sat down next to you.

“Homework, huh?” He said looking at your book “mind your own business tuna breath.” You replied not even looking up from your book. A couple minutes later of trying to do maths while having to listen to Brian and Mia talk to each other you heard a familiar sound before turning around and seeing all of Doms friends enter the cafe “hey YN mind if I sit there?” Vince asked while leaning against the counter.

“ But I’m here,” you responded “Just move!” Vince said clearly running out of patience so you packed up your stuff before moving to the other side of the counter “asshole” you whispered under your breath making sure you where just loud enough so that Vince could hear you he looked at you surprised at the response before sitting down next to Brian and starting a conversation about something.

You had only zoned out for a couple of minutes before looking over and seeing Vince and Brian throwing punches at each other.

The fight had gotten the attention of your older brother Dom who hadn’t gone out to stop it yet “DOM! As much as I enjoy seeing tuna breath over there being beat up I don’t really feel like having to deal with a dead body today!” You exhaled looking him dead in the eye for a second before he finally walked out to break up the fight you following him with a glass of water in your hand.

After Dom broke up the fight you threw the glass of water on Vince’s head “what you need to cool off” you chuckled “fuck you YN” Vince said back “HEY. TAKE A WALK VINCE” Dom shouted in his face “and YN get inside” “but-“ “GET INSIDE” Dom shouted losing his patience. You rolled your eyes before giving him the finger and walking off Mia right behind you.

“YN you can’t just do stuff like that.” She scolded. “Come on you have to admit it was funny.” You laughed but stopped when you noticed Mia wasn’t laughing.

“Don’t you have homework” she said stepping back behind the bar. “Already done.” You quickly placed your books into your backpack.

“I’m bored I’m going home” you said slinging your bag over your shoulders. “What, by yourself? But it’s starting to get dark.” She said worry in her tone.

“I’ll be fine I have my bike.” You said confidently and if you were being honest you didn’t think anyone was stupid enough to go after the little sibling of Dominic Toretto.

“You know Dom doesn’t like you riding home alone after 5pm. He’ll kill me if he finds out I let you and then kill you for for being stupid enough to go by yourself.” She said thinking that would be enough to keep you there.

“Well been nice knowing you see you on the other side.” You joked walking out the back door hearing Mia call your name as you secured your helmet before riding off.

It had gotten really dark by the time you were almost home. Normally you would already be home by now but with construction on your normal route you had to take a back alleyway. You knew Dom would already be angry so you decided it best if you kept that part to your self.

As you were pushing your bike up the driveway when you heard a gun fire. You rushed to get inside as you saw the car drive by with someone hanging out the passenger door with a gun but you suddenly you felt a a sharp hot pain in your lower stomach.

You fell to your knees the pain being to much. You heard the car drive off with whoever fired the gun laughing. Was this how you were going to die. You placed your hand over the bullet hole feeling the hot liquid cover your hand looking down you saw your top had turned red.

You where losing blood fast and you knew that you would die, die with out seeing your siblings again, die without graduating, die and miss out on so much but you would be able to see your parents again and knowing that brought you a slight sense of comfort.

“YN! YN!” You heard your name the voice sounded familiar but it was muffled and you thought it was miles away. You saw a bright light of a car but it looked like there were multiple. Then it all went dark you heard nothing and you knew that you had taken your last breath the pain finally going away.

•The others POV•

“Wait so let me get this straight you thought it was a good idea to allow YN to go home alone when it’s almost dark.” Mia had just finished explaining to Dom where you were after he had come back inside with the others and noticed your absence.

“I tried to stop her but she wouldn’t listen and just walked out.” Mia tried her best to defend herself but knew that if anything happened to you she was responsible.

“Ok everyone get in your cars we’re going to my house.” Dom announced to the gang. “Hopefully they’re there.” He whispered that part under his breath not want to stress his sister out more then she already was. He knew that you were probably already there but this was a dangerous town they lived in and Dom had made a lot of enemies, enemies who he knew would do anything to get revenge even bring a innocent teenager into it if it meant it got to him.

As they were driving down the street he and his family lived on he heard two gunshots ring through the air moments apart from each other. He sped up hoping to find you inside the house safe and sound.

Once they pulled up to the house Dom was horrified to see his little sibling on the ground bleeding out.

“YN! YN!” He called out as he approached your body the others only a few steps behind. Mia pushed him aside and knelt down next to you. Your eyes were blank and you were in a pool of your own blood.

Tears started to escape her eyes. “Hey.. hey YN look we’re all here the whole gang is here for you… you’re gonna be alright, yeah.. please say something. YN? Please” Her voice broke this was her fault if she tried harder then you would Still be here.

“YN please I’m sorry I’m so so sorry… YN come on say something” She cradled your head in her lap pushing pieces of her away from your face.

“Mia they’re gone.” Vince said as he tried to pull you away. “NO! NO! They’re not gone… they can’t be.” She cried into Vince’s arms as Dom was comforted by Letty. He wasn’t one to cry but he had just lost his little sibling someone who had practically raised.

Vance picked Mia up pulling her away from your body that was now cold. She continued to cry as Letty led her and Dom inside while Vince, Leon and Jesse handled your body.

•Brian’s POV•

Brian went into the house where they were operating everything the next day no idea about the devastating news he was about to hear about the Teretto family.

“O’Conner my office now.” Sargent Tanner ordered. “What’s going on” Brian asked sensing the seriousness about the situation.

“Do you know anything about a shooting at the Toretto house.” Brian was shocked he knew Dominic had enemies but didn’t think they would try and kill somebody.

“No.. what happened?” Now he was scared what if Mia had gotten injured yes he only knew her for a short amount of time but he was really starting to have feelings for her.

“You know the youngest one.. what was their name again.. uhh-“

“YN” Brian was pretty sure he knew where this was going and he prayed that he was wrong.

“Yeah YN they were shot didn’t make it died within a few minutes.” Sargent Tanner said not a shred of empathy going right back to his cigarette.

“Oh… umm… wow they were so young hadn’t even finished high school yet.” Even though Brian barely knew you, you were still a kid who had done nothing wrong and had actually been getting good grades.

“Yeah sure sure.. oh well that’s one less problem we have to deal with, probably had no future anyway. The killer probably did the world a favor.” The Sargent said not even looking up from the file in his hands.

“What the hell man! Look I know that we’re trying to bust Dominic but YN had nothing to do with what he’s doing ok. They were a good kid and didn’t deserve to die so young.” Sargent Tanner was shoulder by Brian’s outburst.

“Yeah… umm yeah sorry” Sargent Tanner apologized before dismissing Brian.

•Mia’s POV•

Mia was heart broken she had just lost her little sibling and all she could think of how she won’t get to see you grow up how she won’t be able to hear you laugh or see your eyes light up when you talk about something that you love ever again and all because she couldn’t stop you. Now instead of helping you with homework or watching bad romcoms with you she was sitting before your grave your favorite stuffed animal in front of it with a bouquet of white roses. You where gone you where really gone.

[writingonleaves]

were you sent by someone who wanted me dead? (did you sleep with a gun underneath our bed?) - jeremy swayman

pairing: jeremy swayman x original female character

warnings: swearing, pretty angsty. hopeful ish ending because i can't do sad endings, very personal but i think many can relate in their own way, cliche ish, barely proofread

inspired by + title: "the smallest man who ever lived" by taylor swift

word count: 5.6k

author's note: i'd argue almost every piece any author writes is personal, because it has their life interspersed through the words. but this one really is, because a majority of this is the exact same words i wrote years ago after a break-up. heard the bridge to this song and immediately knew i had to write something inspired by it. also trying a new format of sorts (maybe a bit meta??), so i hope you enjoy and lmk what you think!!

~*~*~

When Noelle Betsko walked away from Jeremy Swayman, holding back tears until the call dropped, she knew it was going to be a tough time for the foreseeable future. 

It didn’t matter that the pandemic had forced them apart. She knew she would still feel him for months to come.

She did the only thing she knows how to do when trying to deal with things. The one thing she always resorts to as an aspiring novelist. Sometimes on her laptop when the words were spilling out too quickly for her brain to catch up, tears littering the keyboard. Usually in her old beat-up journal, scribbling in the cursive that Jeremy claimed he always loved (“It makes your handwriting unique”) with the pens he had gifted her just a few months prior. 

At the age of 21, Noelle got her heart broken for the first time. At the age of 26, she’s about to publish her first poetry collection of sorts, all of the poems modeled after journal entries written throughout her life. So not really poetry, though her mother would say otherwise. 

She swallows as she thumbs through the middle part of the first known and binded copy of “miscellaneous.” There are only eight entries in the whole collection that are taken verbatim from her past writing. These are the eight.

May 13, 2020 (three days post-breakup, crying in my childhood bedroom)

I don’t even recognize who I was and who you were in those writings before these pages filled with love and hope and happiness. I can’t even summon up those feelings anymore that I knew existed at one point. Those feelings of complete bliss and love for someone so deep you can’t explain it. 

I’m mad at myself for not being able to conjure those feelings, because at one point, I did love you. How could something that was part of my daily life for over two years just disappear so quickly? 

But now, I’m not mad at myself. I’m mad, but I don’t know where to direct that anger to. I feel a bit empty sometimes, but then frustrated the next. Sometimes I get sad, but not so much compared to the other feelings. I spent enough time being sad during our relationship.

When we broke up, on an annoyingly beautiful Tuesday in May — over the damn phone, mind you, which whatever, it’s COVID. Fine — You told me you felt like you had been putting more effort into us. 

At the time, I didn’t react, but I’ve been thinking about how angry that statement made me. Makes me, actually. I was always very open with how much I gave to that relationship. How much it meant to me. How much it affected me. But I understand that with some people, sharing everything too much equates to things not meaning anything anymore. But you out of all people should’ve known that I mean everything I say.

I felt like I gave so much. I know I gave so much. When I told you I loved you, I always meant it. Every single time. When I told you I missed you, I always meant it. I wished you were right next to me at that moment. I mentally gave so much, because to me, I wanted to. You were always on my mind, always high up on my list of priorities. I never took us for granted.

I’ve been questioning if that was the same for you. Did you start becoming complacent?

The second thing you said that day that hasn’t left my head is that you knew me pretty well. And initially, I remember not thinking much of it. So I don’t doubt that; you always knew right when I was about to cry, even over the phone. You often knew when I was mad or upset, but when I look back now, you never pushed. Which is a good thing, to an extent. But it was a bad thing sometimes too. I knew you often wanted to give me space, but sometimes I didn’t want space. I wanted you to push. To try to understand. Maybe that’s unfair of me; it probably is. I should just say I want to talk about it more, right? 

But if you genuinely knew me, you would’ve known.

After two years, seven months and 12 days,  I still feel like I didn’t know you. Did I ever know you at all?

When people talked shit about you, I always defended you. And I still would defend you now. But lately, I've questioned what I’m even defending. All those good qualities that I thought you had, were they even real? Of course, I know some of them were, to a certain extent. But as I look back on us, there’s a lot of doubt about whether I even knew the person I called my boyfriend for so long. I know there was a point where you cared about me, but I can’t remember when. 

I often felt like I was letting you know so much about my life, but you didn’t do the same. I get that sometimes a person just wants to forget about the bad and focus on the good with a person you like for awhile. I get that. But once that was happening every damn time? That should’ve been a red flag. 

June 7, 2020 (twenty eight days post break-up, outside my childhood room on the deck) 

I don’t understand how you can give so much to something or someone and have it not be recognized or appreciated or enough. If I wasn’t enough for you, how will I be enough for anyone?

I hope one day you’ll truly understand how much this hurt. Not just the breakup, but feeling like I was always being pulled in a direction I didn’t always want to be pulled in. Feeling I was stuck between a rock and a hard place and never ever being able to win. I hate that I settled so much in the last year. Because I should’ve demanded more, even though deep down I knew you were never going to be able to give it to me.

I think back to our past daily texts, and I just don’t get it. At one point, we both meant the things we said to each other. 

Yet we still hurt each other. 

This fucking hurts.

You’ve hurt me so much, but most of it wasn’t intentional, which I think is somewhat even worse. Because I’m not totally mad at you for causing the pain. You never did anything outright to cause me pain, but I still feel like you did. 

Unintentional pain almost stings more than intentional. 

When I asked you out that night after we were both on an emotional high, I took a chance. For once in my life, I took the leap, knowing that I could get humiliated or hurt or just straight up shot down. 

Where did it all go wrong? Or, more realistically, how did we think that we could go through the wrong when it was there at the start?

I’m trying not to blame myself too much. Trying not to tell myself that I should’ve known better. 

All those times, especially at the start, when I would ask you if you genuinely liked me, you always thought I was just trying to be annoying. But you never understood that I genuinely thought that way. My self confidence from the start was lacking, and you didn’t try to understand that, because I come across to everyone as confident and self-assured. 

It hurt, when you would brush things off like that. I felt like you didn’t care.

And then, it got to the point where I stopped asking that question. Part of that is because I did become more confident and you did show that you cared, and part of that was because I knew it would piss you off.

The amount of things I was scared to talk about with you because I knew it would piss you off? I don’t wish that feeling on anybody.

I shouldn’t have been scared. I shouldn’t have been uncomfortable. But I was. And if you did notice like sometimes you claimed to, why didn’t you make it more comfortable for me? Was that too much to ask for? 

So larger than life that at the end, you faded into just the smallest man who ever lived. Fuck you.

Was it too much to ask for when I just wanted to know why you were upset? You didn’t have to ever tell me the full story (lord knows there were times I didn’t), but was it too much to ask for something? You told me once that I’m the person you’ve told the most to. How? You barely told me anything. And when I wanted to talk to you, whether it was about growing up in Alaska or why you were in a bad mood last night, you always brushed it off. Always. 

So I don’t feel so bad about feeling like I gave more effort. I gave so much of myself to you. If you really cared about me like you claimed you did, why couldn’t you show even just 1% of that care back? Or just meet me in the middle?

I could’ve tried harder to meet you in the middle, I’ll admit that. But you didn’t even give me a map or a clue how to. 

I felt so fucking left in the dark. I felt left in the dark about my own fucking relationship, something that I should be completely sure about. If you really love someone and care about them, how can you leave them in the dark? How could you not even see that I was struggling to find a flashlight?

You did care about me. I know that. To some extent and at some point in time, you did care about me. But caring about someone and their well-being isn’t always enough.

Why couldn’t you have worked with me? When I was extending my hand out, why didn’t you reach for it? How can someone just be so blind? I mean, I’m practically always spelling it out for you. 

Maybe I am being selfish. But fuck, I just wanted to be happy. At some point, you made me happy. When did I start making you feel like I wasn’t enough? Why wasn’t I enough for you?

It’s useless, in a way, to keep going about this. Because I know I deserve better. And we’ll both find people who are better for us. We just couldn’t be that person to each other.

I fucking loved you.

I wish it ended differently.

July 8, 2020 (fifty nine days post-breakup, in front of the lake)

I really really fucking miss you. 

I do. 

I miss being able to text you that i love you and not necessarily expecting a response until the next morning. I miss knowing that as soon as you wake up, you’ll text me back and assure me that yeah, you love me too. 

I’m left feeling bittersweet as I look back on memories that are just splashes and not definite strokes on the canvas that used to be us.

I miss having you as a friend. 

I’ve been having more urges lately to want to text you. And it isn’t even anything important. Just moments I experience throughout the day.

Do you get the urge to do the same?

July 19, 2020 (seventy days post-breakup, still in the same damn house)

It’s hard. It really is. And it kinda just hits you at random parts of the day. Sometimes I wake up from a dream that you were in and have to remind myself that it didn’t happen. 

Sometimes it physically aches when I realize that you won’t ever help me put on my jacket again, or complain that my hair is in your face when we’re lying on the couch watching Brooklyn Nine Nine, or groan when I drag you up to dance with me (which you never improved on, no matter how many times I tried to teach you basic rhythm). I can’t view our song the same way anymore, and I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to. 

The other day, I read some simple thing on Twitter. I don’t even remember what it was, but I do remember that for a split second, I could see your smile in my mind. But it wasn’t just any smile. It was the smile you gave me when you took me ice skating that first time. I remember asking you what you were smiling at, and you said that you just were taking in this moment. I don’t know if you took a mental picture that day, but I know I did. That day seems so long ago now. 

In almost anything I do, you somehow pop into my mind or into the conversation. And it’s not even in a harmful way either. It’s because you were part of my life for so long. I see a dog on the street, and it reminds me of how you always stopped to pet every single one we’s see I write something in my messy handwriting, and I remember how you always used to complain that you couldn’t read the notes I’d occasionally leave around your place when you went away. I went to the doctor’s the other day, and they said I was 5 feet and 3 inches, which is just definitely not true, and I almost reached for my phone to text you, because you would’ve cackled and insisted that no, I’m 5 feet 2 inches and it wouldn’t even matter because I’ll always be shorter than you. It’s simple and minute things that make me miss you that much more.

I still can’t listen to some songs the same way anymore, but I can at least listen to them now, which is a feat in itself. I was unpacking from college and found the teddy bear you sent me the first extended time we had to be apart and had to immediately put that out of my sight. From those boxes also came photos that I had decorated my dorm room with, and to be honest, I’m glad now that I let you keep our best one. I deal with all my emotions, besides writing, by making Spotify playlists, and I made a new one earlier this week. I think it’s helping. It’s a slow process, this whole moving on thing, but it’s one that I’m trying to be grateful for, because like most things in life, you just don’t truly know until you go through it.

Sometimes, I find myself wondering how you are and how you’re healing. But, even though we’ve both changed since the day we met, if there’s one thing I know, it’s that you’re incredibly strong and stubborn. I hope that you’re finding some growth in this process too. 

October 17, 2020 (one hundred fifty seven days post-break up, apartment in orono)

It’s been almost 5 months, and you still cross my mind everyday. 

Why wasn’t I enough for you? Why didn’t you fucking tell me what you were thinking? Why was I the one who had to approach you just because I was just so done with the silent treatment?

But I’m not mad at you. Not anymore. The mad phase passed ages ago. 

Closure is a fake word. Even a breakup as mutual and smooth as ours was still left me with so many questions that will probably never be answered. 

Any breakup fucks you up to some extent. I knew it was going to mess me up even back when we were together. But not like this. Never like this. 

But like anything in life, I guess you can never really prepare for what you think you might feel, because most of the time, you discover a whole new side of you that you never thought existed. 

I don’t miss you. I don’t. I don’t feel that love in any way anymore. 

But I did once.

You did too, right?

November 15, 2020 (one hundred eighty six days post break-up, fogler library)

I hate Halloween. 

Though, it did bring me to you three years ago. I’m pretty sure I fell in love with you right then and there. 

Three years later, you texted me on Halloween, five months after our breakup. The universe really, really wanted to fuck with me. 

It was a tough night for you. I knew that. Because I know how you are after losing a game you should’ve won. But that didn’t mean that I owed you anything and had to respond. 

We agreed on no contact if we ever wanted to stay friends. Clearly, friends is out of the picture now, but come on. A vulnerable text after a bad night because you know I would feel bad for you?

Fuck, you know how much I would hate that. You had to have known. 

Just because we’re not dating anymore doesn’t mean that everything about you just disappears. I still know your tendencies. I still know exactly how my head burrows into your chest during a hug. I still know the actions I used to do that would be followed by you attacking me with a hug. I still could point you out in a crowd. 

I looked for you in every crowd for years. 

That stuff doesn’t just go away, no matter how much I want it to. But fuck. Fuck. Why did you text me? 

I don’t regret how I handled it. I probably would’ve responded months ago. But just like you, I’ve grown these last couple of months. 

It was comforting, for a split second, to know that maybe, just maybe, these past couple of months have been hard for you too. It makes me feel human. It makes me feel like I’m not crazy.

I’m glad you texted me. You gave me another level of closure I hadn’t known that I needed until then. 

But fuck, dude. You know me better than that. You should know me better than that. 

I hate Halloween.

November 26, 2020 (one hundred ninety seven days, at the coffee shop i brought you to when you came home with me two years ago)

I don’t regret loving you, but I hate you for what you did to me. 

Or maybe not. 

I hate knowing that even though we haven’t been in a relationship in a bit, it feels like sometimes, you’re on my mind the exact same amount when we were dating. I hate knowing that I gave so much of myself and my love to you, and it always felt unrecognized. 

Fuck, will it ever stop hurting? Will I ever be able to have to stop myself from thinking about you? Will it ever stop?

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. 

Happy birthday. I hope you enjoy it.

June 12, 2021 (three hundred ninety five days post-break up, in boston, visiting a friend)

Tonight, when a friend asked me about you and how I felt about how we ended, I was able to articulate my thoughts clearly. I’m really proud of myself for getting to a point where I can take the lessons I learned the few months after we broke up and acknowledge them in a succinct way without breaking down into tears. Just watery eyes and the occasional voice crack 

I’m also proud that I can say that when we were dating, I lost a bit of myself. For months, it was really hard to admit out loud.

I’m proud of how far I’ve come. Sometimes, I wish I could call or text you about it, because I think you’d be proud too. And I know I’d be proud of you. I am, to be honest. I do break resolve once in awhile and check on you through various avenues.

I still haven’t seen you in person since the last time COVID made us say goodbye. Maybe I never will again. But day by day, I’m starting to accept that and be okay with it. I’m accepting that memories that used to be so painted in my mind are blurry or almost completely erased now. But that’s okay. Honestly, it’s probably for the best. 

I wonder, when you think about it, if you think about different moments that I do. That’s the thing when something ends. You have to be okay with letting go of those moments and realizing that just because you forget them, doesn’t mean they weren’t important. 

I don’t think I miss you. I hesitate in saying that. Because I’ve moved on and handled the aftermath of it better than I think both of us ever thought I could. When you hung up the phone for the last time, I proved to myself again that I’m stronger than I give myself credit for. I think we all are. But we don’t realize it until we’re thrown into a situation that we think we’ll never be able to overcome. 

But we do. Whether it’s because we’re forced to because there’s no other option, it doesn’t matter. Because we get through. We move on. 

I hope you're moving on. 

And then it goes into other topics, graduating during a pandemic specifically and losing what’s supposed to be your last year of no responsibilities before adulthood. There are other poems in here that reference a past relationship, but not as much as these eight. 

If there’s one thing that Noelle did change, it was taking out the details. Jeremy may have hurt her, but he doesn’t deserve someone possibly making a connection between these poems and their shared background. She’s not a famous author by any means, but she wanted to be careful.

Not that she makes that part of her life publicly known. People don’t need to know that her brother was Jeremy’s captain for two years at Maine and that’s how they met. 

Noelle grew up going to rinks. She hasn’t gone to one since they broke up. 

But also, what the fuck? It’s been five years since she’s dated the guy. She really is over it by now, even if his rise to stardom in the Bruins flittering on her social media feeds still sometimes has her swallowing a bit before she can continue with her day. 

Brooklyn is far enough from Boston. But sometimes it feels like it’s right outside her door. 

She’s proud of her first published work. She really is. People believed in her and after numerous notes swapped back and forth with her editor, she did it. She always knew she wanted to work in publishing. She never knew she herself would publish anything.

And here she is now, two weeks after the book release, in Boston, about to do a q&a and a signing. Apparently, “miscellaneous” has been on top of numerous lists and it’s flying off the shelves. Noelle can’t really believe it and tries not to think about it too much, trusting her agent with all of that. 

She’s happy to talk about her work and process though. That she can handle. And she’s grateful for all the love.

After a signing at a local bookstore, she decides to walk the 20 minutes home in the Boston fall. It’s a bit brisk, but she doesn’t mind and she just wanders, belly filled with delicious sushi she inhaled for dinner with an old friend.

Of course it happens the one time during her walk when she doesn’t avoid eye contact with someone. The song playing in her earbuds fade out of her focus and she almost stumbles. 

Jeremy’s eyes were always Noelle’s favorite thing about him. She thought she would’ve forgotten what they looked like by now. But clearly she hasn’t. 

Her eyes quickly cast to the person next to him. It’s definitely a girl. They’re a bit too far away for Noelle to pick out details. But it’s enough. He’s walking on the side closest to the street. It’s a Friday Night in a bustling part of the city. 

It hurts. She wishes it didn’t.

Even from far away, she sees his eyes blink in recognition. Noelle puts her head back down and walks faster. 

(She cries in the shower when she gets back to the hotel. She had debated feeling super sorry for herself and going to the hotel bar but refrained)

She has a few free days in Boston before flying back to New York. When she wakes up the next morning, she debates on going home early. But no, she won’t let a three second glance at someone ruin her time here. She used to occasionally come here during her college days. She loves this city. 

The city may be Jeremy’s, but she can make space for herself here too. 

She takes her time at a cafe, people watching and eating some breakfast. As she takes her coffee to-go, she looks out the window at the bookstore she was in the night before for the signing. She almost drops her coffee. 

Jeremy walks into the book store. 

Now, Noelle is debating her options. What she should do is continue with her day and walk in the opposite direction. But she’s always been too nosy for her own good. And maybe a bit self destructive. She decides to leave the cafe and cross the street immediately, so impatient to where she’s almost tapping her foot as the pedestrian signal stays red. 

As a writer, she’s no stranger to movie moments. The scenes written in books or movies where the timing is too accurate to be real. The situation too good to be true. But after a car speeds through an orange and she can finally walk, she stops in her tracks instead, feet glued down to the sidewalk.

Because Jeremy is right in front of her on the other side of the street. Her book in his hand. And he’s looking right at her. 

The first feeling she can recognize in herself is anger. Anger at the way their relationship panned out. Anger at the way they ended. Anger at the radio silence the years following. Anger at him for everything. Angry at herself for everything. 

The second feeling is, weirdly, shame, which she’s embarrassed by. There’s nothing to be ashamed of. But she feels it anyways. 

The third, and perhaps the most prominent, is emptiness. Five fucking years later, and she’s brought back to the emptiness she felt immediately after they broke up. The emptiness that the person you loved isn’t yours anymore — who maybe wasn’t ever yours to begin with. 

Before she can run, he’s already crossed the street to her. He looks naturally different as someone who you haven’t seen in five years would. But he also heartbreakingly looks the same. 

“We should get out of people’s way,” Noelle manages to chokes out. 

Jeremy laughs a bit. Her heart lurches. “Yeah.” He starts walking and she follows him wordlessly. This is his city after all. 

He leads them to a bench under a tree with beautiful fall foliage. She puts at least a foot between them as they both sit down, staring out at the people passing. She can’t take the silence. 

“I see you bought my book.”

“I did,” he replies evenly. “Congratulations. I always knew you would do it.”

She squeezes her eyes shut. Maybe if she squeezes hard enough she’ll forget when she originally pitched Jeremy the bare bones idea of the exact same book that’s currently in his hand. “Thank you. Congratulations to you too. On everything.”

“You’ve been watching?”

She shakes her head. “No. But, you know Seth and…yeah. It comes up during family calls sometimes.”

“Why didn’t you say hi last night?”

She looks pointedly at a couple walking their dog. “You seemed busy.”

“She wasn’t-that-it doesn’t mean anything.”

“Oh. Because that makes me feel so much better,” she spits out, before taking a deep breath. “Whatever. It doesn’t matter. We broke up ages ago.”

“I’m sorry,” she gives him a look and is slightly proud of how he seems to shrink into himself a bit. “I-I know it’s five years too late. I know I didn’t handle it as well as I should’ve. But for what it’s worth, I’m sorry.”

The thing is, Noelle always thought that maybe hearing an apology someday would make her feel better. But now that’s heard it, she’s not sure she does. 

She swallows. “I appreciate that.”

“I’ve already read it, you know.”

“Read what?”

Jeremy runs a hand through his hair. “Your book. One of my teammate’s girlfriend recommended it and I asked to borrow it. It’s fantastic,” He looks down at the book in his hand. It’s like the cover is taunting her. “I wanted my own copy.”

“Oh.” 

“Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For letting me off the hook with the poems I know were about me,” he scoffs, shaking his head at himself. “You could’ve written way worse.”

She can’t help but let out a chuckle. “I thought I was pretty mean.”

“Your definition of ‘pretty mean’ is tame compared to a lot of people,” he says, mindlessly flipping through the pages of the book. “You were always the kindest person, even when you shouldn’t have been..” 

He puts his hand out in her direction, the hand with the book in it. She furrows her eyebrows. “What-”

“Could I get a signed copy?”

“Jeremy. What do you want from me?”

He sighs, taking his hand back. “A chance to apologize?”

“You’ve already done that.”

“Not in the way I want to and what you deserve.”

She lets out a sigh, turning to face him fully. “I don’t know if that would be worth my time or yours. I know the book just came out, but that was five years ago. I’m over it. Forgive and forget, right?”

“But do you?” Jeremy counters back. “Clearly, you don’t forget, which I deserve. But forgive?” 

“We’re just going in circles now.”

“No we’re not,” he says firmly. “You’re just shutting me down because you don’t want to talk about it. I’ve had five years to prepare what I would say to you if I saw you again. You’re telling me you haven’t?”

“Of course I have,” Noelle tips her head back. “But also, what’s the point?”

“The point, is that I still love you.”

“Fuck you,” she says in a strained voice. “You can’t just-you can’t just throw that shit out there. Fuck you.”

He bites his lip, and to her annoyance, he laughs. But she listens more carefully, and it sounds very self deprecating. “I deserved that.”

“Yeah,” Noelle looks down at her feet. “So…what? You still love me?”

“I do.”

“And what are you going to do about that?”

“What are you going to let me do?”

“I live in Brooklyn.”

“I know,” she whips her head up. Jeremy looks sheepish, which she didn’t even think was something he knew how to do. “Seth mentioned it when we caught up a bit ago. I also still follow you on Instagram.”

She tries again. “It’s been five years.”

“And I’m here sitting with you and still feel the exact same way I did back then. Even more, to be honest.” He eyes her pointedly. “Any more excuses?”

Her voice softens. “You really hurt me.”

“I know. And I’m so sorry, Noelle.”

“I hurt you too.”

He shrugs. “We were young and stupid.”

“And we’re still not?” Noelle says with a snort before swallowing. “I’m not the same person you fell in love with.”

“I’m sure I’m not either. But I don’t know if there’s a world where I don’t love every version of you.”

“Even after reading the book?”

“Especially after reading the book,” he sighs. “Noelle, I know this is unfair of me. All of this. And I’m sorry it’s taken me this long to reach out. But I always intended to. And then you’re here? And I see you twice in two days? I’d be an idiot to not try. More of an idiot than I am, anyways.”

“Try for what?”

“A second chance? To be friends? Whatever you want.” He suddenly deflates. “Even if you don’t want anything to do with me. At least I’ll know.”

“Why did you never text me?”

“I thought about it a lot,” he admits. “I tried once, actually, after the high of a really good win. But it didn’t go through. I got the message.”

“The message?”

“You blocked me, right?”

Oh. “Yeah,” she lies. “I did.” She reaches into her bag for a pen and gestures for the book, which he gives to her, a curious gleam in his eyes. “I’m in Boston for two more days, including today.”

He takes the hint immediately. Eagerly. “I have a game tonight, but I’m free tomorrow.”

“Who are you guys playing?”

“Toronto. And I’m starting. Should be a good one.”

She hums non-committedly, scribbling on the inside of the front cover. She hands it back to him with a small, close-lipped smile. She nods at him to read the message.

to my first fan, 

i still love you too. 

xxx-xxx-xxxx

yours, 

noelle

He looks up, eyes shining but a bit confused. 

“I never blocked you. I just changed my number.”

“Oh.”

“And even if I still love you, I’m still mad at you.”

“I know. I’d be more surprised if you weren’t.”

She stands up, adjusting the bag on her shoulder and putting her sunglasses on. “Text me?”

His mouth splits wide into a grin. “Yeah. Yeah, of course.”

She backs away with one last attempt at a smile before turning down the street.

[rita-repulsa-ke]

Next time

“She killed me!”

“She does that.”

“But—the ballad. The road!”

“All a lie, I’m afraid. A little trick she uses to lure people to their deaths. Like a beautiful siren on the rocks, singing to passing sailors.”

“Um.”

“Yes?”

“You’re staring at her.”

“Am I? I guess I am.”

“Can she see us?”

“No. She knows we’re here, though. She always knows.”

“I’d like to give her a piece of my mind.”

“I can pass on a message, if you want?”

“Tell her she’s a despicable, wicked creature who deserves to rot in Hell.”

“Ooh, very harsh. I like it. So. Are you ready?”

“…No. But I don’t get a choice, do I?”

“Nope. Sorry.”

“There was more I wanted to do.”

“There always is.”

“…What happens next?”

“Come and see.”

*****

“Hi, Ags. One of them says you’re a despicable, wicked creature who should rot in Hell.”

”How incredibly unoriginal. Which one?”

“….uh.”

“Wow. You can’t even remember, can you?”

“...Maybe that one?”

“That’s a little insulting to the souls of the dead, not being able to tell them apart.”

“I see a lot of them. And they generally all have something nasty to say about you.”

“And that does hurt my feelings so. I cry about it every night. But you know, at the end of the day, I’m alive and they’re dead, and knowing that gives me the strength to carry on.”

“…you’re funny.”

”Looks like I can still make Death laugh.”

“Agatha…”

“Hmm?”

“…you know.”

“You miss me, you love me, you’re obsessed with me, that sort of thing?”

“Yes, Agatha. That sort of thing.”

“Hey, Rio, want to know something?”

“Probably not?”

“I wish I had never met you. I wish I had walked away the first time I saw you and never looked back. If I could take back every time I told you I loved you, I would.”

“What, all six times?”

“And only half of them real.”

“…stop.”

”Oh, that one hit, didn’t it? You were always so easy to manipulate. Please, my love, please. I love you so. Anything like that, and you’d do whatever I asked.”

“Yes. Because I love you, Ags, beyond all reason, even when I wish I didn’t. You can make me regret it, though.”

“Not half so much as I regret ever having loved you.”

“You do still love me, you know. You’re angry and hurt and taking it out on me, but you—“

“I don't. You can stalk me and obsess over me and follow me to the ends of the earth, but that part of me died the moment I buried my boy in the ground. I don’t think I can love anything anymore.”

“Beloved…”

“But if I could, I can promise it will never be you.”

“…All right, Agatha.”

“…That’s it? All right? I mean, that one was really vicious. I've been working on it all morning. I was hoping for a better reaction."

"Like what?"

"I don't know. Crying or sulking or disappearing or something. …Not stabbing."

"I don't really know how to cry…Were you really working on it all morning? What incredibly cruel thing to say to me this time?"

"On and off. Around other things."

"…That's nice."

"What?! No, it isn't. It's the opposite of nice, that's the point."

"It's nice that you were thinking of me."

"...I honestly wonder what it's like to be you sometimes.”

"At the moment? Lonely."

"That wasn't meant as a question. But how can you be lonely? I'm right here."

"...you are very mean, beloved."

"Ah, there, that's better. More along the lines I was hoping for. Now shoo, I have other things to do, I'm a busy woman."

"Other things like what?"

"I'm sorry, are you under the impression that I'm going to share information with you, the being I hate most in the entire universe?"

"...Fine, Agatha. Have it your way."

"Wait!"

"Yes??"

"At least try to remember which one insulted me next time."

"...Really? That's what you—oh! Next time. Next...yes."

"Mmhmm. And I promise, eventually I will make you cry."

"I honestly don't think I can."

"Watch me."

"Always."

"...No, but really go away now."

"Yes, Agatha. Until next time."

"...See you then."

Want to read more witch fics? Here's a masterpost or go check out Death on Drums because I heard the 70s version of the ballad again and thought of it

[rrenzwrld]

secreto de amor XIV

chapter 14, read chapter 13 here

you stood in the doorway for a second as you watched your boyfriend being face deep in someone else’s pussy. you wanted to cry and lash out but he wasn’t worth it, none of this was.

the girl on the bed noticed you and screamed which made zayvion come up and look at you in complete shock. all you did was stand there with the straightest face and arms crossed firm over your chest. the girl scrambled to put her clothes back on and rushed past you and out the door, leaving a naked zay and you in his bedroom.

“who was that?”

“she was..um, nobody. look, baby i’m sorry, she just—“ you rolled your eyes.

“if you didn’t wanna be in a relationship anymore, you could’ve just told me.” you seemed aloof to everything but a storm was brewing inside. you were angry and sad but you didn’t see a point in lashing out and showing it when you could just walk away.

“i wasn’t expecting you to stop by—“

“don’t. i’m tired, zayvion. don’t call me, and i’m blocking you on everything.” you left and never looked back.

“welp, looks like we not going to the mall anymore.” tia commented once you told her what happened with zayvion. you didn’t want his presence to affect how you moved from now on but know that you knew he was still in the area, you’d be lying if you said it didn’t bother you or wasn’t on your mind. “i thought he fell off the face of the earth for real.”

“me too.”

“well as long as he don’t try anything, it should be okay.”

“right.” you hummed

tia noticed that you were a bit more down and she knew it was because of zayvion. “girl,” she threw her arms around your shoulders and hugged you tightly from behind. “i don’t like seeing you like this…”

“like what?”

“sad over an old nigga. why be sad over him when you can be happy about…” she waited for you to finish but you never did. you smiled instead because you knew who she was referring to.

“i’m not sad over him, i just knew i was better off not seeing him.” tia understood where you were coming from, she just didn’t like the energy change.

“i know girl.” tia got up from the bed and put her shoes on, indicating that she was about to leave. “i’m finna go to work, first day. yay…” she said sarcastically.

“good luck pooks,” you got up too to walk her out the apartment. you got to the door and hugged her before saying goodbye. jean wasn’t there currently because he was also at work. today was your last day off for the week so you really didn’t know what to do until connie texted you.

after you responded and later asked connie to send you his address, you went back to your room to slip on a hoodie while you kept your sweats on. you grabbed your keys and headed out to connie’s. when you pulled up, connie was already outside waiting for you.

“hey pretty.” he greeted as you got out and locked your car.

“hey.

“how was your day?” the both of you made your way into the apartment and connie closed the door behind you.

“pretty good so far. today is my last day off so i didn’t know how i was gonna spend it.”

“so i came just in handy, huh?” you rolled your eyes before sitting down at his island.

“whatever.”

“there you go with that nonchalant shit. i swear, almost nothing moves you.” you raised a brow, thinking he was realizing that he had some kind of effect on you.

“almost? what’s the exception?” connie walked over, moves some of your braids away from your neck, and places a soft kiss in the area. you forgot how nice it felt to be kissed there and you could almost melt into a puddle as you felt your body heating up.

“i can literally feel how hot that made you.”

“why did you do that?” your hand rested right where he kissed.

“to see your reaction. why? you want me to do it again?”

“um…” you couldn’t find words and it was like your brain wasn’t even aware of itself. all this and the feelings that you had for connie was supposed to be deaded by now, especially why you got to remembering the girl you saw him with in the store. “no. no thank you.” you said quietly.

“you sure?” you nodded.

“i do have a question tho…” you knew he’d probably lie or make up something about it so you were doubting even asking him about it. “i went to the store with jean a couple days back and i saw you in the store with a girl, who was that?”

“my sister, sunny. she and my brother moved back down here to stay with my mom for a little while. we went to the store because she wanted me to make chili.” sister. that explained why the touching wasn’t really romantic.

“oh.”

“and she likes to touch and hug and shit so that’s probably what you saw. why are you just now asking me about that?” you shrugged. you were scared he’d lie, that’s why. “you were probably overthinking, you look like a terrible overthinker.”

“how can somebody be terrible at overthinking?” connie rolled his eyes.

“no, i mean you probably do it a lot.” he was right but you really didn’t wanna admit that he was so all you did was hum and be quiet for a few minutes “anyways,” connie walked over and picked up two controller from his tv stand. “wanna play the game with me?”

you and connie had been playing various multiplayer games on his playstation and he even taught you the ways of a few new ones. it had been for about 2 hours though so you got bored of that.

“i didn’t know you had siblings.”

“yeah, sunny and martin are sixteen and twins. normally they live up in new york with their dad but they came down here to stay with mom for a while.”

“are you close with them?” connie nodded.

“yeah i’d say so. i just wished i thought about more space for them before i bought this place..” he looked around before landing his eyes back on yours.

“they speak spanish too?”

“no actually. i’m only fluent because my mom and i stayed with my dad in puerto rico for a while before moving here. and when we moved here, my parents separated and my mom met their dad and had them. but then he moved to new york when they were 12 and wanted to take them so he did.”

“so you were born..”

“in puerto rico yes.” you thought that was interesting. everything connie had told you so far was interesting because it gave even more insight on who he was. “my mom is afro-latina and my dad is, well..latino.”

“cool.”

“right. aren’t you hot? you’ve had the hoodie on the whole time, you gonna take it off?”

“i hadn’t planned to.” you wrapped both of your arms around your own torso.

“and why? you not hot?”

“i am but i don’t have anything under.” you said the last part quietly and obviously connie pretended like he hadn’t heard you.

“what?”

“i don’t have anything under.”

“oh, well you could’ve said that. i have a tshirt you can put on, hold up.” connie got up to get the shirt but it was a bit too oversized and you liked oversized clothes.

“don’t you think this is—“

“it’s fine, don’t worry about it. you’re not hot anymore right?” you shook your head. “good. you hungry?”

[hannahssimblr]

“Jude! God, c’mere.” Michelle thrusts me into the centre of the group, where someone has propped a card against a vase on the counter. I ensure to arrange my features carefully into some sort of surprised expression. 

“Oh, what? This for me?”

“Yes,” they cry. It’s a handmade card that says ‘you’re dead to us’ on the front. “Aw, Jesus, thanks!” I say, and they laugh and watch me while I open it and start reading some messages scrawled on the inside. There are so many of them, many even squeezed into the tiniest corners, or sideways along the edge.

‘Good luck on your big adventure!’ some say. Others share a memory, wish me luck, express jealousy at my escape. I close it. 

“I’ll read this late when you’re not all gawking at me,” I tell them, which gets a good laugh despite the lack of comedy, and as I look around at their faces, their sad, sentimental smiles and I wish the night was over already, and I was already gone. I feel exposed, like a man under a spotlight without something to say. Would they like me to entertain them? To read their messages and get emotional in the middle of my kitchen?

I catch Jen’s eye. She’s behind the others, by the patio door, dressed in a very funereal black, and an expression to match. While chatter resumes around me, I jerk my head towards the garden, and without words, she understands. She slips through the door and out into the night. 

Jen and I wordlessly follow the path that winds down from the house to the pergola at the back of the garden. We sit on a bamboo settee shielded by trees from the road, where the occasional car passes. The breeze lifts pieces of her hair that frame her face. 

She is staring towards the kitchen, its yellow light pouring out into the garden when she breaks the silence. 

“What a weird party.” 

I exhale a laugh through my nose. “Honestly, I didn’t know if you’d even come.”

She purses her lips. “I’m not totally sure why I did.”

“Maybe you had something you wanted to say.”

“Maybe. Though I wasn’t sure you’d want to hear it.” She looks at me then, her brown eyes dark in the failing light as they study mine. “It surprised me to see Evie here.”

“Me too. I didn’t think she’d come.”

“On her own, too.”

I shrug. “Shane and Claire were busy. They were going to their debs.”

“Ah, the debs.” She picks lint from her black mesh top and laughs humourlessly. “Bet you’re sorry you’ll miss ours. I know how excited you were to suit up for it.”

Even the concept of wearing a suit makes me uncomfortable, as though an invisible tie is pulled too tightly at my throat. “You’re going, I presume.”

“Yeah, with Michelle. The two of us are kind of like the dateless losers in the year. Feels about right to end it all this way.”

“I didn’t think Michelle would be interested in all that stupid stuff, if I’m honest.”

“I think that’s what you assumed. If you’d asked her, she might have told you something different.”

“Hm,” I say. “More evidence of being a kind of shit boyfriend, isn’t it?”

An infinitesimal smile nudges at her lips. “I always said you were better apart. She really brought out the worst in you.”

“It felt that way, to be honest. When I was with her, I really didn’t like myself, or I wasn’t completely myself around her.”

“Well, then. Hopefully, one day you’ll find someone who lets you be yourself. It’s what everyone wants for themselves.”

I nod. “Yeah, that’s true.”

“I kind of thought you’d found that with Evie.”

I sigh, suddenly irritated, while she draws into herself, hands tucked under her arms. “Sorry,” she says. “I don’t know the right thing to say about her.”

“I kind of wish you wouldn’t say anything to me about her, because, like…”

“It isn’t my business, and all that,” she finishes, and with a nod, she turns her face toward the bushes flanking the garden with their spiky black leaves silhouetted against the deep blue sky.

My voice trembles. “Jen, I don’t want to be angry with you right now, like, I don’t want to go off and start this new part of my life when I feel this way, but the things you said to Evie at the festival, I just… It’s like, no matter how much I think it over, I can’t come up with a reason you would say those things to her.”

She tugs the sleeve of her top between her teeth, just shaking her head. I lift my hands from my lap to look at them. They are quivering, so I clench them into fists as I continue.

“You should have been there on that second night, Jen, and seen the way she was crying. The things you said got into her head, you know what I mean? You can’t just make shit up and tell it to someone like it’s a fact. I know you love to gossip and tell stories, but this is what happens when you go too far. It has real consequences. Like, a real impact on people.”

“Yeah.”

“You told her I was staying.”

Again, she agrees, eyes still fixed on the garden. 

“Jen.”

She swallows, hard. 

“How come you said that? It’s not like I ever told you I was going to do that, is it?”

She mumbles something incoherent. 

“What? Come on, just talk to me.”

“I assumed you would.”

“You assumed? Why would you assume?”

I realise that speaking is difficult for her, as she is holding back her tears. I should feel more sympathetic towards her, but I’m righteous. With a steadiness I know is shrinking her, I stare into her face.

“Maybe it was both that I assumed and I hoped. Like, a mixture of the two.”

“Go on.”

“You seemed happy this summer, at certain moments. It was just… like,” a laboured swallow, “you’d come home late after being with her, and you were just… Happy, and talking all about her and going on and on about the funny things she said to you.”

“So?”

“So, like, I thought you’d end up going out with her in the end, and that you felt so strongly about her that you’d stay in Dublin to be with her. I don’t know, it didn’t seem that crazy an idea. You were acting like you were in love or something.” Now, she looks at me, her eyes hurt, but still searching for confirmation. Perhaps, if she were especially astute, she might have seen somewhere on my face the flash of emotion that jolted through me. I convince myself she hasn’t seen a thing and clench my jaw. 

“I think that was a fairly stupid assumption to make.”

“I don’t. You’ve always done things because pretty girls wanted you to. It’s like your life is based around chasing whatever feeling it is that you get when one of them likes you.”

“That’s not true.”

“It is.”

“It’s not,” I insist. “Look at me now, huh? I’m leaving her for Germany.”

“Fine,” she whispers. “I just thought you’d stay. That’s all.”

“I won’t.”

“I know that.”

“I’m leaving.”

“Yeah, I get it.”

“Do you?”

She exhales, frustrated, and throws her hands upon her lap. “Yes, I know it. Look at me, here, at your going away party. It’d be pretty fucking mental if I didn’t know it, wouldn’t I?”

“Yeah, but it’s not like you’ve acknowledged it.”

“You haven’t talked to me in two weeks.”

“Before that, Jen.”

She fixes the full, passionate force of her stare at me as tears fill her eyes. “Because I don’t want you to go, do I? Because I thought if I didn’t look at it, then it’d all just go away.”

I feel a surge of emotion. My throat tightens as though clenched by a fist. “Well… It doesn’t.”

“Yeah,” as the first tears spill onto her cheeks, she wipes them away with the heel of her hand. “I just didn’t want things to end. I thought if you stayed for her, then I wouldn’t have to lose you, and nothing would change.”

“They have to, though. That’s how life goes. Everything changes and everything ends, and we all just get older and things move on.”

She whimpers. “But you’re moving on without me.”

I reach out and stroke her knee with my thumb over the loose threads of the hole in her jeans. “Yeah, I suppose I am.”

“I just don’t know what I’ll do.”

“You’ll just live your life, and I’ll live mine, and-”

“We’ll be apart. How can I go without seeing you all the time? You’ve always just been there, and now I’ll have to get used to you being so far away, and never seeing you, and you’re, like, one of the few friends I even have, and you-”

“No, come on. You’ll make new friends in college.”

“I don’t want new friends. I don’t want to meet new people and have to explain these little things about me, and my backstory and what I like to watch on TV and order at the takeaway, and what sorts of jokes make me laugh. You already know it all, and you’ll know them better than anyone else ever will, because you were there when I decided I liked them.”

“Jenny, we’ll still talk, and we’ll visit each other-”

“There’s no point pretending it’ll be the same, because it won’t. You’re going to say you’ll stay in touch with me and we’ll be best friends forever, but that won’t happen. You’ll find people who are better, and just forget.”

“Never.”

Beginning // Prev // Next

[cozage]

The Daughter's Return Part 3

Chapter 12: The Call Home

Start From Beginning | Next Chapter | Table of Contents | Read on AO3

Characters: female reader x Portgas D. Ace Word Count: 1.7k

The amount of times you were dry heaving into the toilet made you think your body was trying to delay this conversation with your father. You had to admit, you were thanking this baby for prolonging the inevitable. The thought of hearing your father and Marco on the other side of the transponder snail made you start another round of gags into the toilet. 

A knock came at the door, Whitey’s friendly voice asking if you were okay. 

You almost laughed at her question. How could you answer that? You were pregnant. Thatch was dead. Teach was a traitor. Ace had abandoned you, and now he was set to be publicly executed. 

You were far from okay. 

And yet, when you answered, you simply let out a weak “I’m fine!” Even though your heart and soul had been collapsing in on itself for almost a month now. 

You and Ace were supposed to be going to doctor's visits. Your baby was the size of an avocado now, if you remembered correctly from that pamphlet the nurse had given you back in Alabasta. 

You should’ve defeated Teach easily. The two of you working together would’ve been no match for him. It didn’t matter what his devil fruit was. The two of you would’ve won. 

If Ace wouldn’t have acted irrationally, the two of you would still be together. The two of you would’ve been okay. Life would be a little less bleak. 

But Ace never thought about the consequences of things. He only ever just did them. 

God, you were so tired. 

You began crying again, hot and angry tears. You wanted to scream or punch something, anything to get rid of your frustration. You wanted to create a lava flow so extreme that you created a new island from your grief. 

But you couldn’t do any of that right now. You could only cry. 

“I’m coming in,” Whitey said, opening the door. 

“Hey babe,” she said softly. “I told you it’s going to be okay. Do you really think the Whitebeard is going to let his second commander die?”

“It’ll be a bloodbath,” you sobbed. “People are going to die regardless of what we choose to do.”

“Let’s not think like that,” she said, although she knew you were right. “Let’s go talk to Pops and see what ideas come up.”

You wiped your face free of tears and took a deep breath. You had to be composed for this meeting. You had an idea, and you knew your father would only let you do it if he thought you were in an adequate mental state. The plan was risky, but at least you were the only one being put at risk. 

The snail began to call, and the knot in your stomach tightened. 

“Yes?” Your father’s voice boomed from the snail. He sounded exhausted. You couldn’t blame him. 

“Hey Pops,” Whitey said. “It’s-“

“Whitey!” His voice became more enthusiastic, but you could still hear the exhaustion. “Tell me you have good news.”

“I do.” Whitey nudged you, motioning for you to speak. 

“Hey dad.” Your voice came out weaker than you wanted it to, but still confident, given the circumstances. 

“Y/N.” You could hear your father’s voice get watery, and you knew he was just as relieved to hear your voice as you were to hear his. “I’m so glad you’re okay.”

“Listen, dad.” You took a deep breath. “I have a plan.”

“A plan?”

“If Whitey can give me Ace’s vivre card, I can intercept them before he gets to Impel Down and-“

His voice cut you off, full of rage. “Absolutely not.”

“Dad!” You cried, trying to stay calm. “It’s the best way for us to-“

“No. Your ass is coming RIGHT back to this ship and you are staying here until I say otherwise.”

“I can do it!” you argued. “I need to-“

“You are not doing it. That’s an order.”

“You know I can do it!” You screamed. You knew you were losing your cool, but you didn’t care. Ace’s life was at risk. Everything was at risk. 

“I want you to report back to the ship.” You could hear he was struggling to keep his composure. 

“That’s not fair!”

“I don’t want to hear SHIT about fair. What’s not fair is you keeping secrets! I have tolerated your rebellions and let you get away with far too much these past few months. But this is crossing a line. You WILL remain with Whitey until you return and then we will have a private discussion on your involvement in this rescue mission going forward. Is that understood?”

He knew. Of course he knew. Marco would’ve told him as soon as he read the report. 

“Dad, ple-”

“Whitey,” your father said, ignoring you. “Do whatever you have to in order to keep her on that ship. Put sea prism cuffs on her. Throw her in the brig if you need to. But do not let her get off that ship until you are here. Is that clear?”

You looked at Whitey, your eyes full of silent begging. You needed her to fight for you. To vouch that you could succeed. 

“Of course, Pops,” she said, giving you a remorseful look. “We can do that.”

“Whitey-“ you pleaded. 

“Y/N.” He sounded so tired. “For once in your life, don’t cause more problems than there already are.”

His words made tears prick at the corner of your eyes. They were harsh, but they were true. All you had done was cause problems recently. For everyone around you. The least you could do was follow this one order to return home. 

“Yes sir,” you whispered, and the line disconnected without further conversation. 

“Im not going to lock you up,” Whitey said. “But you are going to have to stay in my view the whole time.”

You gave her a weak smile, thankful you wouldn’t have to spend your journey in the cells below deck. “Just like old times, huh? When the others couldn’t pay us to be apart.”

A wave of relief visibly washed over her face, thankful you weren’t going to resist. “Just like old times.”

You slept with Whitey in the captains quarters that night. 

Slept wasn’t the right word. You couldn’t sleep. You just kept thinking of Ace, chained to a wall and being beaten and ridiculed. Had he given up on life as much as you had? 

You knew you couldn’t go get him. The fleets that were escorting him were going to be full of high level marines. Even on a good day, you weren’t sure if you could do it. Trying to do it now would be suicide. 

But maybe there was something else you could do. Someone else who could help. You just had to get to them. 

You carefully climbed out of bed, trying your best not to wake Whitey. Every creak made you wince, but Whitey stayed asleep. 

The door was the hardest part. You knew it would groan as you opened it, and there was nothing you could do to prevent the sound. 

Slowly, painfully, you opened it, your eyes glued to Whitey. She stirred in her sleep a few times, but she never opened her eyes. You finally opened it enough to slip through, and you silently shut it back into place. 

You quickly moved to the kitchen, grabbing food rations and other supplies that you would need. You were going back to the New World. It would be a long journey, especially with your current state. But you would do it if it meant saving Ace. 

You would need a bottle of sake, and you found the perfect one. A large one from the East Blue. It wasn’t nearly enough for the favor you had to ask, but hopefully he would be gracious. 

“What are you doing?”

Fuck. You hadn’t been fast enough. 

“Whitey!” You turned around, her icy glare on you. “I was just-“

“Don’t lie,” she snapped. 

“Please Whitey I…I need to do something.”

“Do you even have a plan?” She demanded. “You can’t take on that kind of naval power even on your best day, and you know it.”

“I’m not going to rescue him!” As much as you wanted to, you knew Whitey was right. You couldn’t do it alone. 

She scoffed, clearly doubting your words. “You’re not? Really?”

“I swear Whitey. I’m going to ask for help. I know I can’t beat a naval fleet, but there is something I can do. Someone I can talk to.” You looked around desperately. “Please, just go back to bed.”

She shook her head. “You know I can’t do that.”

“Whitey please-“

“I can’t let you leave after explicit instructions,” she yelled, and you feared that other people would come to investigate the commotion soon. “I’d be disobeying my captain. And you might be able to do that, but I can’t.”

Your words wouldn’t convince her. You’d have to use strength. Against your best and oldest friend. 

Tears pooled in your eyes. “Please don’t make me do this.”

She closed her eyes. “You have to.”

You took your bracelet and held it across your knuckles. “I’m sorry, Whitey. I don’t want to-“

“Good luck,” she whispered, a smile on her lips. “You can do it. You can find a way to save him.”

You swung as hard as you could, aiming for the spot you knew would knock her out. Your fist and sea prism bracelet connected with her pressure point, and she slumped to the ground, unconscious. 

You grabbed your things and took off towards your sloop, which was still connected to the back of Whitey’s ship. 

“Okay baby,” you whispered to your stomach. “Just let me get to help, and then you can make me as sick as you want, okay? Just cooperate until then. We can do this.”

You really were a terrible person. Lying to everyone around you, knocking your best friend unconscious, forcing your unborn child to go through dangerous waters with little sleep and little nutrition. You had never been this careless or thoughtless in your life. 

If you kept acting like this, you were going to die. You knew that. But you didn’t care. Ace promised that you could die first. If he was moving up his timetable, so were you. 

You took off on your sloop, pulling out the vivre card to follow. Onto the New World. 

Onto find Shanks.

--

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[travajoke01]

I wanna enroll her in a contest so infopost here we come

casual outfit still developing, please stand by

rottmnt OC Chimera Solbritt, she’s a bombyx. Aaaaaand also she’s a witch (i’m almost sorry for Donnie).  

Va: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MFOBe5rGrqc&list=PL0ZdQpFsexGEB8-p_dN7jflu7y7bB4Upe&index=5 Noël Wells

Her little caterpillar-like buddy is Cat (as in Cat-tools and caterpillar)

 Really hate that we saw so little of witches and furthermore they were not so…..thrilling. I’m not a good writer, so i’ll just throw out some facts about her and backstory. Maybe my headcanon will make creators and nickelodeon so angry that they’ll decide to continue the show just to prove me wrong.

info below:

So this little cutie has problems with her family (on account of them being killed) and were took in by Big Mama and trained by her great-aunty Moti, so her english is better, otherwise that would be a disaster.

BM took her as last favor to her friend (a witch), trying not to dig Chimy into her illegal business too much, but girl would peak her nose once in a while (she’s a real fan of true crime, how could she miss something like that?). 

She’s a product of love of a human (scientist) and yokai (witch), whose bond was a problem for the witch’s town by itself, and a reason of their demise. Chimera was thought to be dead too, but she was teleported by her papá along with Cat, who was supposed to be her nanny, but became a life-long companion. He recorded some things from the crime scene, including her father’s goodbye and face of the killer.

Unfortunately, it took some time to reach her mother (she was in the witch town currently, while dad was above), and since she had no idea her daughter was alive, she took the poison to rejoin her fam.

Knowing that Mira (I really see so much potential In her being evil), would want her own granddaughter dead, Moti knew that girl cannot stay, so by the advice of  Chimy’s mother, she took her to the hotel, sneaking there once in a while to teach her and tell stories of her parents.

Of course, Mira was playing the victim, crying and telling that both of her parents died in the accident from one of their experiments.(those damn scientists can’t do anything right). 

It was hard for Chimy to study, especially, when she saw Gentry getting the attention and magic lessons from Mira she craved so much. But i guess  with having the half of capabilities of others-it is how it is. Or maybe Mira didn’t trust the bombyx just as much.

So to begin her way to the top properly, Chimera had do enlarge the amount of magic she can hold\produce, call it mana if you want. Before that, to learn magic ways properly, she had to use her enchanted umbrella and Cat’s help to make and store potions and elixirs, particularly healing ones. Quite a useful buddy this Cat, after all, a creation of magic AND science. 

School days weren’t exactly easy, on one hand, because she enrolled in the already formed collective that got used to each other, on the other, because Chimera was mostly looking humanish, the only things visibly telling that she is certainly not a human were her little wings, teeth, eyes and ears. She’s not unusual enough to blend in with yokai, and way too unusual to blend in with humans. Her fluff, retractable arms, spots and colour, the size of her wings were developed during all these years, heck, even the silk wasn’t always the thing. All of that made it only harder to get used to, she was clumsy and insecure. You can’t say she was bullied necessarily, but she’s never felt being a part of community. It definitely affected her, so she seeks admiration and attention.

Being tired of this buzz of thoughts and failures in her head she quitted the school and embarked on her little adventure outside the New York, (approximately during the time of season 1-2 and the movie) travelled to the temple where she empowered her dark magic (hence the mark’s ob her hands, the more she uses them, the more they grow), and enlarged her mana. 

Coming back to NY, she had to pass an exam to show her progress in magic, which wasn’t a problem for her this time, and took private lessons from a wizard.

FACTS TIME

second and third pair of arms are retractable. First pair, normal skin, second-fluffy, third-more like a chitin, they’re thinner than the other pairs. Her height is actually about Mikey’s, but since she’s walking on her “tiptoes” (it’s more comfortable bc of her bone structure) she appears to be higher.

produces silk (uses it to lengthen the range for touch-based spells or to crochet) and pheromones (to attract or to repulse, futile against humans and mutants, they only work on yokai)

umbrella has planetary signs and on the top is a sun sign (solely decorative)

her bailiwick is dark magic mostly (darkness based harm\destruction spells, creating a field of darkness), but she tries to learn other kinds of elementary attack spells, but they’re more tiring for her to perform.

has bags under her eyes,mostly because she stays up late, her sleep schedule is a mess. She just likes staying up late and doing hobbies, with all that learning there’s should be time for fun, right? After meeting the Mad Dogs, she could spend several nights without sleep, learning\practicing spells or looking for a particular one that they need. 

Even though she sometimes seems insensitive, she’s very emotional towards animals and animated little creatures (like robots),probably because she feels they are weaker and has an instinct to protect them.

doesn’t like any physical touch if she doesn’t like\know you. For some reason, this irritating, orange masked turtle grew fast on her…maybe her shell is getting thinner. (they’re totally besties, she freaking loves Dr. Delicate touch)

Also she crochets\sews, watches true crime videos, destroys the patriarchy, u know, girl stuff  

uses her wings for DAZZLING and casting(it’s absolutely extra), more than for flying, because that would be an easy target and not as fast as umbrella and magical means. So she uses umbrella for fast travel\dodging, but at least she looks great. If she opens her wings people in the close distance can't evert their gaze unless she moves from them or if person wers some kind of eye protecting equipment.

She considers incident in witch town very amusing (Donnie vs witch town),considering her tense relationship with this place.

She genuinely finds Donnie entertaining. Her reaction to his noises and attempts to be a mad scientist is pretty much the same as Luz’s reaction to King (like: awww he steppet his wittle foot~) Does it irritate him? Very much. But at least they both have a topic to infodump (science and magic) and they can’t understand eachother, which is a new experience for Donnie, to be in his brothers’ shoes. But she actually supports Donnie and tries to listen, though rarely understands terminology.

Giggles almost every time boys have an argument (if it’s not very life-threatening situation or it’s a real time to be serious)

She likes Raph’s roughness combined with his sweetness. She would totally crochet smth for him.

Leo is the one she shows her new nails first.

April is a kind of friend she always wanted, she can tell her about her nails with the same interest as about true crime (and learn smth new from April). She would also teach her magic too or escort her somewhere she could learn it.

She has a good developed emotional intelligence but rather from a logical point of view, like “ofc they do not know they’ve hurt u, they’re not u, but if they did it on purpose and u found out about it-ditch them, u deserve better that that”. Hates showing strong emotions like crying in public, it makes her feel weak.

 She tells “failing is okay” to smbd mostly to absorb it herself, she will try to comfort them with the words she would like to hear. But it’s only if she cares for you, otherwise you can jump off a roof and she’ll be like “do a flip”. 

Even though she seeks attention, she’s an introvert and she needs to “recharge” every once in a while to avoid being overwhelmed. Otherwise she’ll be a real buzzkill.

Totally infodumps boys about serial killers and true crime stuff, Raph and Leo ARE DEFINATELY CONCERNED. 

Greets u with “Supies~” and it irritates Don-Don (that does too)  because it’s not a real word

She hates dancing, because she hates embarrassment. But somehow Donnie takes it personally and insists on dancing lessons from him ofc. She says yes just to get him out of her hair ,but he takes it seriously. Somehow, it’s fun with him, even though very awkward at first. 

eyesight isn’t that great, wears special lenses to be less sensitive to light

learns spanish 

sings when she’s nervous

has slight anger issues

[kudiikis]

Clay + Coil Puppington

You inspired me @saira-matsu-stuff

Context: Due to Bloberta’s negligence and general distane for Coil, she ignored the boy severe injury to his eye via her cleaning supplies. When Clay returns home from work, he discovers his favorite sacrifical lamb has been seriously injured.

Trigger warning: abuse

“Stinkin’ dead end job..” Clay grumbled to himself, closing the door behind him.

“How was work dear?” Bloberta asked, knitting away in her chair.

Clay only grumbled, making his way upstairs and down the hall. As he did so, he could heard the faint sounds of something tumbling about the floor. When he turned the corner, he saw Coil stumbling about, smacking into the wall every now and then.

“Coil,” He called, his voice much softer than with anyone else, “what are you doing?”

He watched the boy desperately turn in the direction of his voice and stumble toward him, just missing him. Clay raised a brow and bent down, picking the little lamb up.

When he finally got a look at his face, his grip tightened so hard around the boys ribcage he bruised a few of his ribs. Coil didn’t cry out though - Coil never really did cry, even as a baby. He was perfect and quiet.

The boy’s eye was red and yellow, the brown iris now this revolting shade of green. It was swollen and purple though he couldn’t tell if that was from whatever happened to his eye or the bruise on the side of his cheek.

“What happened?” He asked, trying to keep his voice calm but it was dripping with anger and fear.

Coil said nothing, tears running from one of his cheeks as he looked at his father, silently pleading for him to make the pain go away.

Clay didn’t need him to speak, he knew what happened he just wished he could have verbal confirmation. He would get it, he always did from Coil. He adjusted so that the boy was resting against his chest as he carried him back down the hall and down the stairs.

Bloberta saw Clay coming down again in a hurry, and spotted the boy in his arms.

“Clay-“ She called but the only answer she got was the door slamming so hard it knocked down the coat rack and the picture on the wall.

Clay took Coil to the hospital, telling the doctor rather openly about Bloberta’s negligence but omitted the part of her ignoring it until he got home. The boy’s eye wasn’t salvageable, infected and ruined by the bleach. He had to undergo surgery to have it removed which only angered Clay more. This boy was supposed to succeed at everything Clay failed at, how could he do that with only one eye? He wasn’t angry with Coil, not yet at least, no his anger was fully focused on Bloberta.

Coil had to be kept overnight after coming out of surgery, much to both Clay and Coil’s dismay. Coil never was good being separated from his father and the same with Clay. He loved to strut the boy around like a show dog - his pride and joy, a testament to his masculinity at producing a third boy and one who behaved so obediently.

With a gentle kiss to the head, Clay left Coil in the hospital bed that made him look even smaller. When he returned home, he made his way upstairs again, ignoring Orel who was trying to ask about his baby brother. He threw open the door, a heavy air filling the room as his eyes fixed on Bloberta. His movements were predatoral as he moved toward her, backing her against the wall.

“This is ridiculous-“ She tried to brush him off as he had been able to do ever since their marriage.

“Stop talking.” He said, his voice a low, deep growl in his chest.

Her eyes widened a bit, shocked by his behavior. Clay had always been a pushover, spineless and easy to manipulate. What the hell had changed?

“He lost his eye because of you. Because of your negligence to our childern. What kind of mother ignores her childern’s cries?”

“I’m no-“

“STOP TALKING.” He repeated, louder this time as his hand wrapped around her neck. His grip was tightly even as she clawed at his hand for air.

“From this point on, anything you do to Coil, I will do to you. Which means if your negligence get him killed,” he leaned closer, his breath hot against the tears running down her cheeks, “I will kill you.”

He tossed her to the floor with as much concern as he would tossing trash into a can, leaving her there to shake and cough as he left the room. Bloberta had never been so shaken in her life, especially not from Clay. If anything, it only made her hate Coil more. Why did he care so much for that bastard child? Why didn’t he care for her like that?

Bloberta pulled herself to her feet, rubbing her red neck as she made her way down the hall to start making dinner. She could hear Clay in his study, pouring himself a drink. He was already so angry sober.. the thought of how much worse he would get drunk made her shiver. However, she pushed on, there was dinner to be made after all.

[phoenixinthefiles]

Better

Miles and Gwen have a talk, Hobie pops In because he’s in tune with both their distress.

“And you know somethin? You ain’t never been able to look me in the eye when you’re wrong. Not at Visions when Peter took that stupid Zip drive from me, not at the Spider Society when I couldn’t go home, not now. The only reason I seem special to all of you, is because all of you are selfish; none of you really want to give yourselves up for the greater good. You give yourself up for your good. Your dad’s a cop, not captain, you didn’t have any worries, there was nothing for you to lose. But I would lose everything, again. And you were just gonna stand by and do what? Hug me when it was over? Offer a shoulder for me to cry on when my dad was dead. And what was gonna happen, all that stuff you said about Gwen Stacy and Spider-Man wasn’t gon matter anymore?”

Miles tried to take a breath, chest heaving and yet so tight at the same time, why didn’t she get it? Why couldn’t she understand this? They’d been talking for at least an hour now, Miles hadn’t wanted to get this angry, just air out how he felt. He knew they had to have an actual talk to make things better eventually, but he didn’t think he was ready for that yet. He still hadn’t really figured out how to feel let alone how to talk about it.

“Miles I’m sorry, I know I screwed up and-“

Miles shakes his head to cut her off.

“You said you understood, you said you’d been where I was before, but you haven’t. We aren’t ever at the same place, you always have the full picture before I even know what I’m looking at. That ain’t the same.”

Miles was glad Gwen didn’t say anything to that. He’s always felt stupid after he got angry with someone and he’d berate himself for getting so worked up when a few hours later he’d be understanding and remorseful and he didn’t really understand that part of anger. He also knew if she defended herself he’d deflate and neither of them would get any thing out of this.

He still remembers Hobie had snorted and rolled his eyes when he shared his self-diagnosed “lack of emotional control.”

“You’re like twelve mate, and anger’s a rough feeling. If some wanker expects you to have your emotions in check when you ain’t even got half your brain yet, that’s their problem.” He’d rolled his eyes again after Miles protested at being called a preteen.

A knock sounds at the door and both Gwen and Miles’ gazes flick over to his bedroom door to watch Hobie saunter in. Speak of the devil. He’s honestly surprised his mom hadn’t come in when she heard him raise his voice.

“Sorry to drop by unannounced lil’ man” That was a lie Hobie only ever showed up unannounced and his timing was always too good for him to be sorry. “Thought maybe you’d like to be a big boy today grab a bevvy with the mandem. Bring a jacket though, yeah, it’s pissing it down out there.”

Miles noticed Gwen blink a couple times at the overt use of British slang. He felt a an odd surge of spite rise in him, who’s got secrets with Hobie now.

He gives Hobie a look, not quite a glare but close, and Hobie gives him look right back. How does he always know?

Miles looks away and turns back to Gwen, ignoring the pain in his chest that flares up at the look on her face. She looks too remorseful to be hurt. He’d best describe the emotion on her face as raw.

“We’ll talk again, later maybe.”

She nods, taking a step back and shaking her head a bit, as if to reset her emotions.

“Yeah, later.”

They both nod at each other before she leaves the way she came. Miles watches her disappear through the window and rushes over to look out it and watch her throw up the hood on her sweatshirt and weave her way through the throngs of people in the street below.

He leans his forehead against the window sill, taking a deep breath and exhaling, hoping to regain some of the energy drained out of him during the hour long conversation. She had showed up at Moles request to talk. Nothing was “worked out” but Miles felt, not better, but lighter.

Turning back to look at Hobie, he sees that the older boy has taken to undoing the Rubix cube on Miles desk, again. He rolls his eyes at Hobie’s need to annoy him every time they meet, then smirks as he remembers the boy’s earlier words. Hobie raises a wary eyebrow at him but Miles keeps the mischievous look on his face anyway.

“Really hope you weren’t joking about getting that drink.”

Hobie snorts, and shakes his head at him. Miles is glad he recognizes his need to just cool off now.

“Nah mate, pretty sure your mum would kill me if I was being serious.”

Miles scoffs playfully, “Where’s your anarchistic spirit?”

“Checked it at the front door when she let me in.”

Miles grins at that; moving to take his Rubix cube, he solves it pretty quickly and hands it back to Hobie with a grin. Hobie pockets it with a scoff before reaching out and pushing Miles by the forehead. Miles pushes him back, grin growing wider when Hobie throws his jacket at him.

He catches it and slips it on.

And maybe he’s being dramatic but his style change from big puffers to thick zip-ups feels oddly connected to the way he feels about life now. He only needs protection now he’s no longer hiding the vulnerable parts of himself just guarding them when he needs to.

“Since you’re not in the mood for wallowing and America’s insistent on being a narc across all universes, we’ll grab some of those disgusting milkshakes you like.”

Miles rolls his eyes, Hobie loves those shakes and they both know it. “Lemme guess, I’m payin?”

“Of course, it’s your cheering up, innit?”

“Yeah, I forgot you’re always skint anyway, innit?”

Miles laughs off Hobie’s glare and doges the punch to his shoulder.

“Don’t know why I keep you around.”

Miles smiles a more cheeky grin. “Because I’m always buzzin’ and you like faffing around more than you admit.” He bends to slide on his shoes narrowly missing the marker Hobie threw at his head.

“Yeah put on ur shoes ‘fore I choke you with “em”

Miles huffs a laugh. Lighter may not exactly be better, but it’s better for him.

@vvkan

[grahamfolgersdeliciousnotebooks]

There were a lot of instances, really, that could be considered their "first kiss." A look at some moments that might, depending on your perspective, count as Jon and Martin's first kiss. For the Jonmartin week day 1 prompt "First Kiss" - Updates one chapter a day, every day of Jonmartin Week.

For day 6 of @jonmartinweek, I am once again posting a chapter of my "First Kiss" fic. Just a short one today - enjoy some comatose-Jon angst! (also I realized I said this on AO3 and not on tumblr - the chapter count has increased from 7 to 9)

Jon didn’t see Martin enter the room. His eyes were closed, and his mind was elsewhere, watching nightmare after nightmare on an endless carousel. He didn’t see Martin stop in the doorway, as he always did, like he was shocked to see Jon still lying there, and he didn’t see Martin sigh and take his seat at his bedside.

“Hey, Jon,” he said softly, his voice a weak imitation of his usual bright lilt. “How are you?” He waited for a response, but none came. “Yeah. Yeah, me too.” His chair creaked underneath him as he struggled to get comfortable. “I’m worried about Melanie. She’s been… well she’s been getting worse. I get why she’s angry, I really do, but she– she scares me sometimes. I thought Elias finally getting sentenced might help, but it’s only gotten worse. She’s furious at me because he’s in prison and not dead, and she furious at Basira for– I don’t even know what! I think she just likes being angry.”

He coughed quietly. “Still, she’s been mentioning that friend more often – Georgie – and that’s got to be a good sign, right? That she has a life outside this place?

“I did tell you about Georgie, didn’t I? Melanie’s brought her up a few times, she seems to really like her. Wouldn’t it be funny if it was the same Georgie you used to live with? Probably not, though. Lot of people in London; I’m sure there are a lot of Georgies.”

Martin looked over at the still and silent figure on the bed, and sighed.

“I’m stalling.”

He shifted in his seat again.

“I wanted to tell you,” he said, though Jon couldn’t hear him. “That deal with Peter Lukas… I’m going to take it. Maybe he really can keep the Archives safe, maybe Melanie won’t be so angry if she doesn’t have to fight off monsters every other day. I don’t know. I hope so.”

He reached out and grabbed Jon’s hand. He never had before; he’d always kept a respectful distance from the figure on the bed.

“This isn’t goodbye,” he murmured. “I know that. Peter keeps insisting you won’t wake up, but he doesn’t know you like I do.” A few tears pricked his eyes, but he blinked them away. “You’re too stubborn. You won’t let something minor like an explosion keep you down for long.”

Martin stood up and stepped closer. He reached out to brush the scar on Jon’s forehead that had been left by the rubble – such a small scar for such a significant injury; even Daisy had left a bigger scar than that.

“I love you. I’m sure you’ve figured that out by now.”  He let his fingers drift from Jon’s forehead down to the curve of his jaw. “I might not get a chance to tell you properly–” His voice wobbled and threatened to break. He took a steadying breath. “So I’m telling you now.”

He hesitated. He hovered over Jon for a long, fraught moment before he leaned down and kissed his lips.

It was awful. Jon was cold and stiff and motionless – he didn’t sigh against Martin’s cheek, or curve up to meet his lips, or grab his shoulders for support, like he had before. He didn’t react at all, and Martin shuddered at the wrongness of it. He didn’t try to stop himself from crying this time – a pitiful, keening sob tore from his throat as he still had his lips pressed to Jon’s. When he stood up, his tears were running down Jon’s cheek.

He grabbed a tissue from the bedside table and tried to wipe them away.

“Sorry,” he choked out. Then, again, “Sorry.”

Jon said nothing in reply. His cheeks were still glistening, and Martin once again dabbed at them, movements slow and achingly gentle. He let his fingers graze against Jon’s lips before he straightened up.

“I’ll see you—” Martin managed to say. “later. I’m sure of it.”