#than hurt because they suffered in silence next to me without saying anything

[sleepydrabbles]

I see a lot about making space when you lose someone for grief but acknowledging that it’ll lead you to someone better suited for you, but I don’t see a lot about how that goes for the other person, too. Human relationships are a two-way conduit. Sometimes it’s better for the other person as well.

[liliannadelaphinehartifelt]

Alastor - [ CONTROL ]

xxxxxxx xxxxxxx xxxxxxx xxxxxxxx xxxxxx

[ NSFW ] + [ MDNI ] + [ FEM READER ] + [ CNC ] + [ SLIGHT BONDAGE ] + [ MENTIONS OF BLOOD ]

( as always lmk the artist for the fanart so i can tag them properly thanks)

xxxxxxx xxxxxxx xxxxxxx xxxxxxxx xxxxxx

Hours.

You’d been at Alastor’s complete mercy for hours…

All because you dared to tell him ‘no’ once. You hadn’t meant to let the defiant response out but in the moment you were overwhelmed and extremely emotional.

It wasn’t your fault that every emotion you felt doubled in intensity during your heat, triggering a less than agreeable version of yourself, and consequently making your giving nature highly restrictive.

How could you give anything to anyone when all your mind could comprehend was taking from them? Using anything and anyone for pleasure or downright zoning the rest of hell out to think about doing it nonstop.

You couldn’t function properly like that and Alastor took advantage of your distracted state time and time again.

He’d spawned into your room, proclaiming he had a task for you to complete, one that ruined your solitude and would take all day.

“My dear, return this to Rosie for me,” he set a stack of books on your disorientated bed, not at all bothered by the glare you shot him as your head peeked from under the heavy duvet you’d curled into.

Couldn’t he see you were busy?

Nearly encompascited at this point, unable to speak without whining, and noticeably shaking as if your body was withdrawing from some awful drug.

In a sense, it was, but withdrawal wouldn’t cure your state.

However, Alastor refused to leave until he heard a response, standing stock still beside your bed with that devilish smile plastered on his face, and the sight drove you mad.

He was so infuriating, looking over you all the time, demanding one thing after the next, and always acting smug…

Telling what to do, when to do it, and how..

Controlling nearly every move you made with a single look, languid gesture, and passive command…

Oh, how you hated being under his unruly thumb but every time hatred surfaced a dull annoying wave of arousal would follow.

Alastor owned you, the essence of your soul, and yet every instinct and nerve you possessed was more agitated by the fact that he wasn’t staking a claim on your body as well.

So, out of pure spite, and slight uncharacteristic boldness you sat up on your knees and got right in his face. Alastor’s gaze raked over your flustered body as you carelessly unraveled yourself from the covers, almost bare in his presence if it weren’t for the oversized dress shirt you’d put on, but he wasn’t given much time to admire your smaller frame trying to size up his larger one.

His attention no longer mildly revolving around your exposed skin but rather the spiteful “No,” you hissed out.

That was new…

Alastor could’ve sworn your soul was his and not your own…which meant refusing him should never be an option.

You watched as his eyes narrowed at you, his grin widening as anger clouded his aura, but unlike other instances you didn’t shrink away or apologize.

No, you decided to take it further. Wanting to push the radio demons limits since he so proudly proclaimed that ripping your soul to pieces wouldn’t be a bother to him.

Maybe then he’d touch you or at least end your suffering through this heat.

“What did you just say to me?” Alastor seethes, static overriding his voice more than usual as you smile at him defiantly and repeat yourself loud and clear.

“I said: No. So, fuck off and find another poor soul to do your bidding…”

Alastor for the first time in a long time since his arrival in hell felt hot rage course through him as you collapsed back into bed like you’d won whatever argument you thought he was entertaining.

You heart was racing as you curled back into the covers, core throbbing with anticipation as his eyes burned holes into the back your head, and the demeaning silence seeming louder the longer he stared.

His ears twitched, smile almost a wicked snarl as his anger began to manifest into physical prowess. “Surely, you’ve mistaken me for someone who cares what you want or think…” he seethes, letting his natural voice ring freely through your room.

Not a good sign at all…not for you, anyway…

A sharp searing pain entraps your throat, a very familiar green chain binding itself to your neck, and with one swift tug on it Alastor has you up on your knees facing him again.

You instinctively wrench your head back, teeth gritting together as your hands fly up to claw at the materialized collar, but your efforts for freedom prove useless when Alastor yanks the restraint so harshly it chokes you for a solid minute.

“I’m more than willing to correct that assumption, darling. “ His lips brush yours as he speaks, sending shivers through you with every word, but you find the will to respond defiantly.

“You wouldn’t dare…” you snicker at the overload, attempting to jerk back from him again, but failing miserably as Alastor pulled the chain taut around one hand while raising the other to grip your jaw.

His claws dug into your cheeks, nearly drawing blood from the sheer pressure he enforced to keep you still, and you only complied when the pain became distracting.

You’d surely have marks left on your face but it was worth it. At least then everyone might realize how much of a fight you put up with Alastor, that despite being indebted to him you fought for freedom every chance you got, and had the scars to prove it.

Though he did find your stubbornness amusing most of the time, at this particular moment you were taking his patience too far and he was well aware it wasn’t intentional -more so a side effect of your predicament- but what was the fun in excusing your behavior on a technicality?

You would need to learn your place one way or another.

“Is that a challenge, little doe?” Alastor held your gaze, his shadows beginning to emerge and slither around your body. The ghostly chill they emitted never faded, cooling your burning skin as each spectrum bound your wrists, snaked around your thighs, and twisted up your entire torso. Alastor hummed in approval as the shadowy tentacles tightened, pressing the red linen fabric of the shirt to your skin, accentuating every curve you had and gradually riding the hem of it higher up your thighs.

You jolted feverishly, relived to be touched finally, but beyond agitated with your current position. Every shift and twist of the shadows sent a surge of arousal to your core, causing slick to drip down your legs, and the sensation threatened your ego.

Were you really about to cum from being talked down to and restrained? By Alastor no less, the very reason you’d lost free will, but the only demon you fantasized about constantly…

“Don’t look so fearful, my dear. I only wish to teach you a much needed lesson….” You stiffen as a shadow passes over your clothed cunt, sliding back and forth at his will, and easing more cum out of you with every motion.

“S-stop..” you moan softly, wanting to fall forward against his chest as your thighs trembled, but you’re kept perfectly balanced without Alastor’s direct support. He watches, drinking in the way your defiant expressions dissolve into lucid pleasure induced hazes, and keeping careful track of how fast his shadow slithers over your cunt. Your head drops as the world starts to spin around you, everything feeling fuzzy as the knot in your stomach tightened, and any resolve you had left fading quicker than you anticipated.

A perfect picture of submission…

Alastor dipped his head then, leaning over you to get a taste of your skin, teeth nipping at your ear, and his tongue dragging along the flushed skin of your neck. “Mmmm….d-don’t,” you whimper and shake, unconsciously arching your body closer to his as your eyes slide shut, but he simply ignores your pleas. His subtle licks and bites progress to intentional kisses, earning desperate moans from you, and desiccating what little self respect you had left.

It was hard to think straight, wanting to come undone already, and your cunt clenching around nothing with only his shadows dragging across your slit in a set pace. String after string of wanton moans leaped from your throat as his specters fondled your body, squeezing your breasts, swirling your waist to keep your hips rolling against your will, and securing your arms in a painful bind behind your back.

Alastor tugged on the chain occasionally, laughing into your ear every-time you choked on a sob or preemptively gasped for breath, and the contrasting sensations left you unprepared and incredibly delirious.

“N-nigh…ahm’m! Hah…hah…ah…” you struggled one last time, losing strength as your legs buckled indirectly shifting your balance to one side. Alastor let you fall, finding your state pathetic, but amusing.

His shadows never ceased as your back hit the mess of covers on your bed, seeming to get bolder as they slithered under the dress shirt, and held your legs apart to give the owner of your soul a clear view of your drenched cunt.

Alastor took quite a good look too, slowly lowering himself to be face to face with your heated core as he spoke down to you, “My, my…you truly have some worth to me now, ma chère…. I hope you don’t mind if I have a taste…” The stag peered up at your flushed expression, smile widening seeing the panic in your gaze flicker with eagerness, but the animosity ever present.

Hate.

You truly did hate Alastor.

He found it the most appealing aspect about you, a girl so desperate for power, now naively giving it away to him after failing to attain any.

A hatred he could consume, taunt, and use to keep you in line.

Even now, as his tongue replaced the shadows task of ravishing your cunt he could feel the waves of anger merging with satisfaction pouring straight out of you and into his waiting mouth. He hummed against your folds when you hips lifted sparactically, wordlessly begging him to go further, push your harder over the edge.

“Fuck…fuck! N-no…y-yes!..” you cried endlessly, out of breath as he lapped up your essence, “So…indecisive…” Alastor drawled against your cunt with a smirk gracing his slick lips.

You attempted to sit up, struggle, or scramble away from him altogether but his shadows wrestled your small body down into submission again. The air grew thick, laced with hushed radio static, and faintly distinct screams of the many souls Alastor had ripped and devoured to shreds mixed together. It was a warning to you -a threat in Alastor’s definition- and you broke into a cold sweat as he sat up on his knees to glare down at your trembling form.

Alastor tilted his head, red eyes threatening to dilate, and a green hue starting to flicker around him.

“Move again without my explicit permission, my dear, and I’ll fuck you within an inch of your pathetic life before ripping what remains of your precious soul to pieces…”

Fear, wouldn’t begin to describe the blood chilling emotion that flooded you as his smile became eerily soft, not at all reaching his eyes, and the distortion in his tone reaching new heights as he lowered his face a millimeter from your own.

“Understood?” Alastor quipped, addicted to seeing your hopeful eyes darken with despair and lust when he threatened you into submission, “U-understood…” you mumble in return.

“Splendid! Now,….where was I?…”

The stag observed your restrained state, presenting a false sense of confusion as his shadows continued to toy with you, and when an inkling of a moan threatened to fly from your drooling mouth a tentacle invaded that space too.

Alastor chuckled lowly, finding the sight of you choking on the spectrum delightful, and your distressed gasps for air dwindling to pleasured whines becoming music to his ears. They flicked atop his head, perking up when you rolled your eyes to the back of your own while the shadow swirled in your throat as if searching for more warmth in your fragile body.

“Ah, I remember now. You were in need of my gracious assistance….” Alastor’s hands found your legs, claws grazing your damp thighs just hard enough to leave light red marks in their wake, and he only stopped scratching your skin to grasp at your ankles. He jerked your lower half closer to his own with a singular tug and you nearly gagged on his shadow as a yelp built in your chest from the rough movement.

Tears rolled down your cheeks as the need to breathe weighed on your lungs, hips unconsciously rolling to press harder into his obviously large erection, and in any other circumstance you’d fight for air over urging Alastor to fuck you…

But the thought of enduring your heat cycle for another minute erased any sense of logic you’d been clinging to since he’d barged in.

You needed him.

You needed Alastor to have his way with you… breathing be dammed…

He read your actions like a memorized book, snapping his fingers once to remove the shadow from your numbing mouth before bringing a hand up to cup your jaw. Alastor’s fingers squished your cheeks as he angled your head up to look at him directly.

Desire.

You desired him now, desperately.

Hate was no longer swirling in your watery eyes.

What a wonderful sight…

“Say it, mon chere…” Alastor spoke uncharacteristically quiet as you stared at him through your tear heavy lashes, “Ask me for help like the polite and sweet girl I know you to be…”

All your pride vanished, heat engulfing your body in waves as the need to be in control of yourself shut down completely hearing his gentle encouragement, “I need…” you began in a timid whisper, but Alastor clicked his tongue, shaking his head as he corrected you with low hum, “Mm mm, darling…where’s that ‘please’ at, hm?..”

“P-please!…ahmm…” you paused as a shaky whine tumbled from lips, shock coursing through you as he finally grinned his hips in rhythm with yours, “Please…help me…need your help…please A-Alastor…”

You babble, begging as he asked you to, and forgetting to care about how indecent you looked while doing so.

Alastor hummed in approval, letting you face go to unbuckle his belt and remove his bow tie before shrugging his jacket off. You watched in slight awe as more of his physique was brought into view. Alastor had a lean frame, seemingly slimmer than most demons at his power level, but that was all but an illusion apparently.

He was tall, hovering above you at a massive seven feet and another few inches, an evenly placed mass of muscle to match, and pale grey skin adorning a few scars. His usual demonic form portrayed him as prey but as you saw him now….he was far from the definition.

You were a bit terrified he’d unintentionally tear you apart in the current state he’s in -no antagonized version needed.

“There’s no need to be so afraid of me, little one…” Alastor mused at your wandering eyes, head lowered to the crook of your neck, and his tongue licking a long stripe over the skin there before he bit down hard.

“Hah!” You screamed in pain as his sharp teeth penetrated your skin, dark blood spilling into his mouth as he T asted your flesh, and no amount of your crying made the radio demon relent his greed for it.

You were tempted to kick around, smack him hard, and resist, but the memory of his very malicious threat ceased any fight or flight response you’d developed while under his control.

Alastor grinned, retracting himself from your throat with a lick of his lips, “You’re such a good girl… so well behaved for me now…” he praised you tenderly.

You shivered as he kissed the wound he made, his compliments causing a blush to burn your cheeks, and your stomach to so several flips.

“I could just eat you alive, sweetheart….” He panted into your ear, clearly feigning like a predator on the hunt for prey, and for once you were glad to be his next victim.

“Please do…m’ all yours…” you mumble in return, dazed out of your mind as he laughs while pushing the head of his cock past your drooling folds.

“Never forget it again, my dear. Ever.”

xxxxxxx xxxxxxx xxxxxxx xxxxxxxx xxxxxx

Idk if is should turn this into 2 parts are not. I’ll see how you all like this one first and decide from there. Bye, loves! ❤️ Tune in again soon! ❤️

[ BONUS CONTENT + ]

Him + Lana = Perfect Combination 🥰 credit to creator ❤️

[perfectlyoongi]

SECOND-CHANCE!JUNGKOOK who sent you a happy birthday message and managed to get you two talking again.

SECOND-CHANCE!JUNGKOOK who tries everything he can to deny the love he still feels for you. you had finally started talking again after an eternity apart — Jungkook didn’t want to ruin this. you were always important to Jungkook, long before you two dated, and the lack of your complicity and existence was what hurt Jungkook the most. of course he wanted all the kisses and hugs back. it was obvious he wanted all the nights you slept together and the mornings you cuddled back. but what Jungkook wanted most was simply you. the friendship he had built with you before feelings covered your hearts. Jungkook couldn’t ruin this, not now that he had you again. talking to you again was as if you were mending Jungkook’s heart with every word exchanged. he couldn’t miss this, Jungkook just couldn’t mis—

SECOND-CHANCE!JUNGKOOK who knows perfectly well that he will never stop loving you, so he might as well be honest with you. it took several days for Jungkook to realize the obvious: that strong feeling he always had for you saw no hope of being erased. for a lifetime, Jungkook loved you. for an eternity, Jungkook allowed himself to be loved by you. and in the next world, Jungkook wanted you back. maybe it was a mistake, yes, but that love squeezed Jungkook’s heart. Jungkook had to be honest with you, it was the only way he could ease his restless heart a little.

SECOND-CHANCE!JUNGKOOK who was afraid to tell you the truth because he didn’t want to lose you a second time. but, you and Jungkook were talking again after a lifetime apart — how could he put that at risk? couldn’t he just suffer alone, in silence? would he really have to tell you? Jungkook didn’t want to. Jungkook thought a lot about not wanting to. but that tightness in his heart, that hole in his soul, that grayness of his innocence — Jungkook longed for your love. and, no matter how much it cost him, no matter how risky it was, the truth is that there was only one solution to all his heartache. as such, with his heart racing inside him, Jungkook finally spoke to you. “i know we agreed to maintain a friendship, but i need to be honest with you. i still like you. to be honest, i never stopped loving you and i feel this feeling eating me up inside. i don’t expect anything from you, but i really had to say it and i really needed you to hear me. so, yea. that’s it. i still love you.”

SECOND-CHANCE!JUNGKOOK who feels like your silence lasts an eternity. Jungkook’s confession was made. Jungkook’s words had left his lips and lodged in your ears where they made a small bed of anticipation. there was no going back. what was done was done, and Jungkook would now have to live with the consequences of his heart. and he waited. impatiently, but waited. Jungkook was trapped in your silence, the bars of your uncertainty creating a small cage around Jungkook, preventing him from running away. he would have to face the consequences of his actions. but, god, how you tormented him. silent, without any hope, you just looked at Jungkook. and how agonizing it was to live that wait wrapped in regret and humiliation — Jungkook should never have confessed. “please say something. i don’t think i can take another second of your silence. please reject me if you have to, but speak. i beg you.”

SECOND-CHANCE!JUNGKOOK who almost cries when you say you want to give your relationship a second chance. but you answered at last. you let your own feelings be heard. you confessed to Jungkook that not a day went by where you didn’t love him. you wanted Jungkook back, almost as much as Jungkook wanted you back. there was hope. not only that, but also desire. you wanted to go back to Jungkook. you wanted to build a life with him again. you wanted to leave behind your entire separation that was nothing more than a mistake made by the two of you. you wanted. and Jungkook wanted it too. a new happiness. a new relationship. a new beginning. a new life — Jungkook swore he could cry. “i swear i think i haven’t been breathing this whole time and you just gave me the air back. oh my god, this is real. you want. oh my god, i love you so much. i missed you so much.”

SECOND-CHANCE!JUNGKOOK who treats your second chance as if it were made of the most fragile glass. he would protect you. he would protect your relationship. Jungkook wasn’t going to let anything in the world or in you to ruin what he loved so much. loving you every day and showing it without any hesitation, Jungkook began to plant a garden of pure devotion where he made you walk daily to realize that, outside of there, there was no beauty at all. the world only turned because you two were together. the moon only shone because you loved each other. life only existed because you had each other. Jungkook won’t let this second chance slip through his fingers — he would forever love you. “knowing that i no longer need to remember our moments to be happy. knowing that i can continue to create more memories with you. knowing that you love me the same way i love you… oh, my love, i couldn’t be happier.”

[morganski-19]

The One Where Family Visits

Nancy and Robin are sitting on the couch in the coffee house when three people walk in. They spot Nancy and wave, trying to get her attention.

“Mike?” Nancy says when she sees them. Standing up and walking over to them. “I didn’t know you were coming to visit?”

Mike hugs Nancy. “Yeah, we thought we’d surprise you.”

Nancy moves over to hug Will and El as well. “I hope you don’t need a place to stay. I don’t have a guest room anymore.”

“No,” he shakes his head. “We’re staying with Jon and Argyle.”

“You know,” Will interjects. “Because they have the guest room now. Finally.”

Nancy snorts. “I know right. Be quiet about that, though. Not everyone knows.”

El rolls her eyes. “I don’t understand why they are being so secretive.”

“They’re not really. Our friends can be ignorant sometimes.”

“Speak for yourself,” Eddie scoffs. Having joined the group and no one notices. Dressed in his work uniform. “I figured it out before you did.”

Nancy looks at him confused. “When? I thought I was the first to know.”

“About a week after it happened, me and Argyle were getting high and he told me everything. Made me promise not to tell.”

“You mean I could have talked to you about this for months now, but you let me suffer in silence.” Nancy pushes Eddie’s arm.

Eddie laughs. “Yes.” He turns his attention to Mike. “It’s nice to see you.” He claps Mike’s shoulder.

“You too, man. This is Will, my boyfriend, and his sister, El.”

“Nice to meet you guys. I have to go, but let me know if you want anything.”

Nancy shakes her head. “Don’t do that unless you want really shitty coffee.”

“I’m getting better,” Eddie yells over his shoulder while walking back to the bar.

Steve is sitting there, mindlessly stirring his drink while waiting for Eddie to get back. They immediately engage in a hushed conversation.

Mike rolls his eyes. “Is that Steve?”

“Yes,” Nancy sighs.

“They a thing?”

“I really have no clue. They’ve been like this since they met.”

Nancy leads them over to the sitting area, making Robin move to the table. She sits on the armchair while the three of them sit on the couch.

“Mom tell you she moved out?”

“Yeah,” Nancy breaths out. “And that dad was not happy about it.”

Mike scowls. “Well, he can suck it up. Maybe he’ll finally get off his ass and do something for once.”

“Mike,” Will scolds.

“What? He’s my own dad, I can complain about him all I want.”

“And it’s not like he’s wrong,” Nancy adds. “The first time he realizes that his laundry doesn’t get done without him doing it, he’ll fall apart.”

“It won’t even take that long,” Mike continues. “The first morning when he has to brew his own coffee, he’ll be begging mom to come back.”

They laugh.

“So, are you seeing anyone?” he asks with a leading tone.

“Who told you?” Nancy sighs.

“Argyle,” Will says. “He really can’t keep his mouth shut.”

Robin gets up from the table, and goes to sit next to Steve at the bar. Nancy watches her, confused.

“He didn’t tell me,” El says, hurt. “I want to know.”

Nancy smiles. She pulls out her phone and pulls up a photo they took on their last date. “His name is Ryan.”

Mike takes the phone, nodding slightly. Showing it to Will and El. El takes the phone to look at it closer. “He’s cute,” is all she says.

“I’m hoping he’s better than all the other guys you tried dating.”

Nancy scoffs. “I wouldn’t still be seeing him if he wasn’t. It’s been going well.”

El hands back her phone with a smile. “I’m happy for you.”

“Thank you, El.”

“Can I meet him?” Mike asks. “Give him the talk.”

Will snorts. “Like that will go well.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“When has you trying to be intimidating ever ended in you not getting laughed at?”

Mike rolls his eyes again. “Oh, shut up. I can be intimidating when I want to.”

“I don’t know,” Jonathan interrupts. Him and Argyle having come in while they were talking. “You trying to give me the shovel talk when I was dating Nancy wasn’t that intimidating.”

“I was also like seventeen.”

“So what?” Jonathan shrugs, the two of them moving around the couch to sit at the side table. “How was the drive?”

“Long,” Will says, annoyed.

“You slept most of the time.” El looks at him. “It was me and Mike driving.”

Will shakes his head. “Doesn’t mean I didn’t think it was long.”

“The room, and couch,” Argyle says to El. She does a little nod. “Are both ready for you. So you can come over anytime.”

“Can that be now, I need a nap,” Will asks. Yawning dramatically.

Mike rolls his eyes, again. “We’ll be here all week,” he tells Nancy. “Let us know if you want to do dinner or anything.”

“Maybe with Ryan,” El adds, hopeful.

Nancy laughs. “He hasn’t even met these guys yet, but I will see if he wants to meet you. And I’ll text you about dinner.”

The group leaves the coffee shop, heading over to the street where Mike parked his car. “So,” he says toward Argyle. “Did you do your search on this Ryan?”

“I did,” he says, proud. “Nothing suspicious to report. Literally nothing. The guy has a reddit that had nothing on it."

"Jesus,” Will exhales.

Mike stops before he gets in the car. “Wait a second. You didn’t know me when Will and I started dating. Did you do a deep dive on me?”

“You don’t want to know the answer to that question.”

Tag list (let me know if you want to be added or taken off) @slowandsteddie, @annieofhearts, @cacdyke, @ubpd, @captain--low,

@thespaceantwhowrites, @goodolefashionedloverboi, @anne-bennett-cosplayer, @lunaticparisianlady,

@apomaro-mellow, @dolphincliffs, @dragonmama76, @maggiebug417, @stevesbipanic,

@fearieshadow, @eightpackdiaz, @au79burger @bookworm0690 , @practicallybegging,

@potato-of-the-lord, @autumncrocusandladybug, @estrellami-1, @ilovecupcakesandtea, @gregre369

@my2amgaythoughts, @ellietheasexylibrarian, @emmabubbles, @eriquin, @grtwdsmwhr

@croatoan-like-its-hot, @dreamercec, @dreamy-jeans137, @morallyundefined

[heavens-moonlight]

𝗕𝗢𝗥𝗗𝗘𝗥𝗟𝗜𝗡𝗘𝗦 | 𝟬𝟰 : 𝗖𝗥𝗜𝗠𝗦𝗢𝗡

𝟬𝟯 : 𝗙𝗜𝗡𝗘 𝗟𝗜𝗡𝗘𝗦 | 𝟬𝟱: 𝗛𝗘𝗔𝗗𝗦 𝗢𝗥 𝗧𝗔𝗜𝗟𝗦

Author’s Note: Here’s a new chapter and the next one will be up in another two weeks! It will only be downhill from here...Personally, the ending of this one is my favorite writing so far ♡

The rest of the hike back to the retreat center is done in silence, no one daring to say a word.

There was no solace found on the journey.

Near death experience.

No way to escape.

Frozen reality.

Where do you all go from here?

Without prompt, Eun-Ha had taken on the responsibility of helping Na-Hee, allowing Hyun-Ho to switch over in support of Dong-Hyun, the latter's arm thrown over the former's shoulder, exhaustion evident in every single heavy step of his.

You can't help but observe how angry your cousin is, more than you've ever seen him before, a deep scowl present on his face. It's typical for him to blame himself when he can't protect someone, and given how you and Dong-Hyun, two of the people he cared for the most nearly lost your lives, you know he's wallowing in self-blame. If the two of you really had passed, you didn't think he'd ever let himself live with that fact.

When your eyes meet, his soften immediately, the dark look on his face passing briefly from the reassurance of the small smile you send his way. You can tell even without his direct confirmation this would become one of the moments that will haunt him forever. Even so, he'll remain strong so as not to worry you and your heart hangs heavy with that knowledge.

Noticing the silent exchange, So-Mi shuffles along in the back while constantly chewing on her nails, glancing between you, Dong-Hyun, and Eun-Ha in succession, more worried for her own life than anyone else's.

When your tears had long dried up, Jun-Hee insisted that he'd carry you on his back the remainder of the way no matter how much you refused. With your arms around his neck, your chin rests on his shoulder and your face is pressed against the side of his.

He's sweating profusely and you pull the sleeve of your blouse down to wipe off the drops that accumulate on his hairline. "Jun-Hee..." you start, a weak whisper.

"Don't," he responds gently. "I know what you're going to say."

"Then put me down, please."

"I won't." He strengthens his hold on your calves, fingers curling and uncurling, itching to touch the scratches, some more severe than others, marring the length of both your legs, the blood yet to dry.

"By the time we make it back, you're going to be in pain."

He turns his head slightly, cheek brushing against yours with an exasperated sigh. "And you think I'm not already in pain when I see you hurt?"

"But I can bear it when I'm hurt alone. I don't want anyone else to suffer because of me. Especially not you."

"Then you, more than anyone, should know how I feel."

Exhaling tiredly, you know there's no point in trying to dissuade him. Relenting, you brush the strands of hair that have fallen into his face out of the way instead, tightening your hold on his shoulders and closing your eyes, succumbing to the deep ache you finally allow yourself to feel.

A few tense minutes later, the group stands in front of the building's glass double doors, everyone stopping to stare.

The trip was pointless and you were all back where you started.

One step forward.

Two steps back.

The moment Jun-Hee pulls at the door, even without opening your eyes, you can tell the hurried footsteps belong to Yoon-Seo and Jung-Won, the two meeting you all by the entrance, having watched and waited the whole time for your return.

You feel a hand on your arm and a gasp follow. "Seol-Hwa..." comes Jung-Won's voice, shocked.

"We saw the notification. What even happened?" Yoon-Seo pats your arm soothingly, backtracking at the look on everyone's faces. "Anyway...it doesn't matter. You don't have to say anything. As long as you're back and safe."

"I'll tell you later," you utter, and Yoon-Seo nods, eyeing your injuries restlessly. Jung-Won's eyebrows are knit in worry, curiosity evident on her face although she doesn't voice it.

The remaining students await in the lobby anxiously and you tap Jun-Hee's shoulders softly to let you down but he doesn't give in. If anything, he only tightens his hold, keeping you close.

Eun-Chan comes running up in surprise. "What happened to Dong-Hyun and Seol-Hwa?" He shifts his gaze between the two of you, eyes widening at the state of Dong-Hyun's ripped clothes streaked with dirt and the bruises littering your skin.

"Say something," Mi-Na presses, voice shaky. "Why do you guys look like this?"

"Dong-Hyun..." So-Mi begins nearly inaudibly, timid. "He thought the line stopped there so he was checking. Then he slipped and Seol-Hwa tried to save him. Both of them..." she pauses, and you bite your lip hard, nearly enough to draw blood, wishing the discussion was anything but this. Her voice alone irritated you. "...Nearly went over the line."

"Funny that you should be the one to recount the story," Eun-Ha states grimly from the back.

"What are you talking about?" Yoon-Seo questions, focusing with rapt attention on Eun-Ha.

"So-Mi here, our role model of a vice president, loves to bend the truth." Eun-Ha's cryptic response has So-Mi fuming, striding over to shove her shoulder back roughly.

"Weren't you the one who told us all to vote for Yool that first night? What about that, huh?!"

"Guys, please calm down—" Yoon-Seo steps in hurriedly to pacify the situation, attempting to pull the two girls apart.

"You love to turn victims into criminals, don't you?" Eun-Ha's eyes blaze with anger, pushing So-Mi's hands away harshly. "As long as it's not you, right?" Eun-Ha crosses her arms and chuckles in So-Mi's face, a sarcastic and dry laugh devoid of humor. "I saw what you did with my own two eyes. Come to think of it, I shouldn't even be surprised. Out of all of us, you would definitely be the one to do it."

"Say it properly so we can understand." Jung-Won walks forward. "Just what the hell happened?"

"She...intentionally led them downhill under the guise of herself having slipped to guarantee that they wouldn't make it out alive." Eun-Ha points between you and Dong-Hyun, the others following with their eyes, the sight matching up.

A few of your classmate's mouths hang open in disbelief while others freeze, trying to process the information as neither you nor Dong-Hyun speak on the matter.

Where you're pressed against his back, Jun-Hee tenses up and you can feel the way his muscles stiffen, jaw clenching and head snapping toward Eun-Ha as he listens, wordlessly seething.

So-Mi rushes over to Dong-Hyun and grabs his hand desperately, the grip unreturned, her hold hanging limply. "Dong-Hyun," she pleads, trying to catch his eye as he avoids it, staring straight at the floor with Hyun-Ho glaring daggers at her. "Tell them that's not what happened."

With bated breath, she awaits his answer but regrets it the moment he speaks up, her face falling. "You didn't catch my hand earlier, so why hold it now?" He looks up at her through narrowed eyes with a look that could kill.

Head shaking, So-Mi drops his hand and falters, taking backward steps toward you as a last resort.

"Seol-Hwa...please." In a crazed manner, she turns to you with an outstretched hand. Before she can so much as graze her fingertips against you, Jun-Hee swivels his body in a way that shields you against her touch.

"Don't you dare lay a hand on her. I won't apologize for my actions if you do." His voice is cold and it makes So-Mi stop immediately, his warning like a slap of cold water across her face.

Not giving up, she turns to the crowd instead. "Are you all really going to believe Eun-Ha, the one who was the first to point fingers at innocent Yool?" She fixes each student with her gaze in turn. "Over me?!"

"What makes you think just being you gives you a pass?!" Eun-Ha slams the backpack she was carrying for Jun-Hee earlier onto the ground, the sound echoing in the still lobby. "Stop acting like you're better than everyone. You would have been a murderer, Kim So-Mi," Eun-Ha spits out with venom, articulating the name like acid that burns her tongue.

"Do you even have any proof, you bitch?!" So-Mi screams.

Calmly, Eun-Ha looks her dead in the eyes. "As if their appearance isn't enough proof," referring to you and Dong-Hyun. "Why are you so defensive then if you're not at fault? The more fervent a denial is, the stronger the confirmation."

"You're cornering me—"

"BOTH OF YOU SHUT THE HELL UP!" Kyung-Jun's voice reverberates in the space and everyone silences. "I don't give a flying fuck what your roles are right now. It's more important whether we can even leave."

He turns to Jun-Hee, regarding you behind his shoulders, eyes flickering over your form, contemplating what Eun-Ha said for a moment before shaking his head. "How far into the village were you able to go? You said you would meet people and call the police. Did you?!" Kyung-Jun's voice gets louder and louder with each sentence.

"We couldn't get anywhere. At least, not a distance that mattered. The entire place is enclosed within the lines and we're trapped here." Jun-Hee's voice is quiet and robotic, clearly hating to be the bearer of bad news.

Kyung-Jun slams his phone to the ground so hard that it ricochets and bounces a short distance away, the screen clattering on the floor.

Yoon-Seo turns in Jun-Hee's direction, looking at him hopelessly. "Then...does it mean we can't leave this place until the game is over?"

Jun-Hee nods remorsefully, the hopes of the rest falling along with his bowed head.

You're walking up and down the floors of the building aimlessly by yourself when you spot Yoon-Seo tucked into an alcove's corner, sitting in the dark of a resting area with her head down.

Approaching soundlessly, she doesn't notice your presence until you speak up. "Yoon-Seo, are you crying?" You lower yourself into a chair adjacent to hers.

She looks up at you with red eyes brimming with unshed teardrops. The ones that have already managed to escape outline tear marks on her cheeks. "If I hadn't suggested that we could try going to the mountain, neither you nor Dong-Hyun would've almost died. Even Jun-Hee is acting differently. All of you came back like you lost your souls out there." She swipes at her eyes frustratedly, choking up with every word that comes out. "What a stupid thing for me to have said. This is all my fault. I made everyone more hopeless than they already were."

Seeing her so sad hurt your heart as her friend. You didn't blame her one bit. No one could've predicted the events. "You didn't make any of us go, Yoon-Seo." Reaching over, you place your hand over the back of hers, warming her cold ones. "We all volunteered. Even then, at least you were able to think of a solution we could try. You can't resent yourself for not knowing that there wouldn't be a real way out, could you?" You give her a genuine smile as she looks over at you. "So, what will you do? We can't leave this place until the game is over. Are you just going to waste your tears here and mourn our regrets?”

"No," she replies resolutely, placing her other hand on top of yours, making a stack in the middle, both your hands tightening with determination. "We must find another way out, no matter what it takes."

"Count me in," Jung-Won adds as she rounds the corner, joining in, the three of you sitting peacefully and comfortably in each other's presence, discussing what to do going forward. "First, why don't we try searching through the staff lounge again?" she suggests.

As the three of you approach the room, you hear muffled yells mixed in with the sound of the table phones going off.

Swinging the door open reveals Jun-Hee hunched over, screaming into the phone's receiver angrily before swiping all present office materials off the desk's surface and onto the floor.

"Yah! Jun-Hee!" Baffled, Yoon-Seo approaches him and picks up the phone he casted aside.

"What are you doing?" Jung-Won quickly flips the light switch on, bathing the room in a soft yellow glow.

"Why aren't you answering the phone?" Yoon-Seo swiftly presses the phone against her ear, listening before trying a greeting that remains unanswered.

"Forget it!" Jun-Hee yanks the phone from Yoon-Seo's grip harshly and once again, tosses it on the floor to land uselessly amongst the other things he threw away in rage.

Jung-Won glances over at you, concerned. You shut the door and walk toward him, taking his forearms in yours and hold them tight so that he'd stop making a mess of the room. "Jun-Hee, it's Yoon-Seo," you remind, shocked that he would lash out at her like that. Yoon-Seo stands still next to you, staring at him like a stranger.

His frustration boils over, and he withdraws his arms out of your grip, grabbing hold of an empty mug with all intent to smash it against the glass cabinets. Yoon-Seo and Jung-Won clench their eyes shut, prepared for the impact, but before he can chuck it, you throw your arms around his waist, hugging him tight, face pressed against his chest. "Stop! Please, Jun-Hee." In a quieter voice only for him to hear, "For me?" He trembles in your hold before immediately lowering the mug, placing it lightly on the table, all tension finally leaving his body. You pull back enough to look up at him, slightly apprehensive about the repercussions still. "What's gotten into you? You're never like this." He's the calmest person you've ever known, rarely losing his temper when uncalled for.

"It's fake. Everything is," he says, a faraway look in his eyes, irises still burning in anger.

You stretch on your tiptoes and turn his face toward yours so that your eyes can meet. Once his dark eyes focus again on yours, they soften entirely, staring at you deeply.

"What are you talking about?"

Jun-Hee slumps into the chair he was sitting in previously. "The phone lines..." he begins, dishearteningly. "They're severed. Every single one of them."

"What?" you look around the room in incredulity.

Yoon-Seo makes herself busy, going from cubicle to cubicle, confirming that even the computer wires were cut and frayed in the same manner. Closing her eyes, she drags a hand down her face, not sure what to make of the discovery.

"Look at this." Jung-Won flips through file folders and binders organized in a bookshelf by the door, tilting it in your direction. "They're all empty..."

Yoon-Seo sinks into a chair opposite yours as Jun-Hee pulls one out for you, guiding you down by the hand into it before dragging it as close to his as physically possible.

"I'm sorry, Yoon-Seo..." Jun-Hee looks her way guiltily.

"It's okay. I know you were just disappointed." She puts her head in her hands. "I too, feel like I'm about to go crazy the longer we're here." Jung-Won settles atop a desk, turning to Yoon-Seo as her friend voices her ideas. "You know, the person who created this game...What was the reason behind putting us through this? I think we need to find that out before anything else."

Jung-Won spins a pen in her hand, thinking. "Where do you think the creator of this game is? Isn't it just us here?"

"Maybe they sneak in when we fall asleep?" Jun-Hee proposes.

"It's a bit unnerving to think someone is sitting around watching us. Also, what makes us sleep automatically without being able to fight against the feeling?" You revisit the role of the announcements. "If there is someone, how come we never see them but can only hear them?" As an afterthought, you add, "If that's even their real voice or it's modulated."

"They probably killed Ju-Won when we weren't aware."

"No, I don't think so," Yoon-Seo refutes Jung-Won's statement. "We were specifically told that it was done by the Mafia." She shudders at the thought. "Only us students are part of the participants list, so it has to be those hiding among us."

"Right," you agree. "If it was someone else, their name and picture would be listed along with ours."

"They must have also chosen the Mafia members when developing the game." Jung-Won stands up, pacing back and forth. "I don't know how they decided that though, or by what criteria."

"Then, someone in our class really killed Ju-Won in cold blood?" Jun-Hee leans against the chair's headrest.

Yoon-Seo takes a deep breath and exhales heavily. "Unfortunately, according to the rules we all saw, that was more than likely what went down."

A knock interrupts your little gathering before Woo-Ram pokes his head into the room, peeking around the door until he spots Jun-Hee. "There you are. I was looking all over. Everyone's saying it's time to vote, so we should go." He looks around, addressing you, Yoon-Seo, and Jung-Won too. "All of us."

Stepping out into the hallway, Jun-Hee looks at Woo-Ram incredulously. "Yool died after we voted and they still have the heart to go through with that again?"

Sighing, Woo-Ram hangs his head. "What else can we do? We can't leave until the game is over." Na-Hee rounds the corner just then with Hyun-Ho and Dong-Hyun in tow. "None of us have much of a choice."

Yoon-Seo tries to persuade him, regardless of the circumstances. "Still, how can we sacrifice someone? We have to stop them. As a group, we mustn't vote at all."

"Wait, Yoon-Seo." You hold her back from marching off to find the others and talking them out of it. If we want to convince them, we need an alternative otherwise they won't listen."

"I'll do it," Jun-Hee decides with determination. "Are the rest gathered together?"

"No, nearly everyone's in their room," Woo-Ram juts his thumb at the closed doors all down the hallway.

"Can you assemble them for me?"

Woo-Ram nods and Na-Hee agrees to help him round everyone up. "But...there's something you should know." Woo-Ram pulls Jun-Hee aside. "Da-Bum is being cornered by Kyung-Jun's crew downstairs. It was where I saw them last."

Hyun-Ho curses under his breath. "Those bastards. I never liked them." Without waiting any longer, he walks away, Dong-Hyun and Jun-Hee hot on his heels.

You, Yoon-Seo, and Jung-Won all fall into step behind, hoping that nothing had befallen Da-Bum yet at the hands of the cruel group.

It doesn't take long to locate the boys, screaming and shouting heard loud and clear coming from the cafeteria.

Jun-Hee swings the doors open, nearly hard enough to throw it off its hinges as it slams into the wall behind. "That's enough! What on earth are you doing?" Jun-Hee pulls Kyung-Jun away from Da-Bum, jostling Jin-Ha and Seung-Bin away in opposite directions. "What's your deal with him anyway? Is it fun for you to belittle others?"

You run in and help Da-Bum to his feet. "Get up, Da-Bum." A quick glance-over reveals he hasn't suffered too much yet, your group having arrived in time to prevent disaster. Yoon-Seo is by your side in mere moments, assisting to take him away not within reach of the three bullies. Jung-Won directs him backward further from the entrance so that he's blocked by your group, standing where someone would have to go through everyone before getting to him again.

Hyun-Ho steps up, leaving Dong-Hyun to look over all of you. "Three on one guy? Aren't you ashamed of yourselves?" he scoffs with disdain.

"Where do you think you're going?!" Kyung-Jun balls his fists up and makes a beeline for Da-Bum, but Jun-Hee elbows his chest hard, forcing him back.

"Cut it out."

"You can't stop me even if you are the class president." Kyung-Jun slides his upturned eyes over angrily. "Why do I have to listen to you?"

Wanting to help out his friend, Hyun-Ho further adds fuel to the fire by shouldering Kyung-Jun until he lands on the floor.

"You're not the boss of me either." Kyung-Jun balls his hands tightly, staring Hyun-Ho down as he gets back up. "Understood?"

You watch with trepidation, sensing a huge blowup about to take place and not being able to do anything to stop it without escalating the situation.

"You jerks never get it when I say it nicely. Guess I need to teach you a lesson, huh?" Hyun-Ho turns around to grab a metal container off a well-organized display of snacks, smacking Kyung-Jun on the head with it before proceeding to launch him over the very same counter, the table collapsing inward under Kyung-Jun's weight, products flying every which way.

Usually Kyung-Jun would back off and take revenge in some other way when spectators are none the wiser. However, with the presence of so many people, he needed to prove his point and show the control he had, which was in reality, very little. You rear back, knowing that to jump into the middle of this would both be stupid and pointless. Hyun-Ho and Kyung-Jun's rivalry has simmered for a long time with no one truly knowing the real reason behind it.

Seung-Bin looks around, eyes settling on a trash can, immediately upending it to smash against Hyun-Ho. It hits him square in the back and he wavers slightly but doesn't give up.

A kick behind from Kyung-Jun has him pivoting on his heel as the former grabs one of the foldable metal chairs scattered throughout the room to hoist overhead, trajectory sailing toward his opponent.

Luckily, Hyun-Ho ducks right as it brushes atop his head, the chair collapsing into itself and thumping with a loud clang into the opposite wall, sending bagged chips and snacks falling from the shelves upon impact.

The food rains down and Hyun-Ho quickly tosses them in succession at Kyung-Jun's face, the two ending up engaged in a fistfight on pure strength alone, no more creative petty methods as distraction.

Kyung-Jun winds up no match against Hyun-Ho and gets flipped onto his back, crashing into the ground harshly. Seung-Bin and Jin-Ha also get tossed to the side easily, incapable of retaliating for the time being.

Hyun-Ho hovers over Kyung-Jun to pin him to the ground with a tight grip around his collar, forcing him down to the spot.

"Let go of me," Kyung-Jun grits out, thrashing around in vain as Hyun-Ho has no intention of freeing him. "I said let go, you son of a bitch." Though he tries to appear threatening, you watch the rapid rise and fall of his chest, knowing the fight has left him. He's aware that he has lost, fair and square.

Hyun-Ho tightens his hold, squeezing Kyung-Jun's neck hard enough that he starts sputtering, glaring up revengefully. "Then, are you going to finally listen? Will you do as I say?"

Kyung-Jun uses his last spurt of energy to bat Hyun-Ho's fists away from his throat, kicking him off. "Fine, you bastard."

Hyun-Ho brushes off his hands and pants, all the more disgusted at the sight of the messy cafeteria. As he turns to everyone waiting by the door, Kyung-Jun grabs something from the counter, hiding it out of view beside his leg before making a beeline toward Hyun-Ho.

Jun-Hee dashes over and bends his arm back before the rest of you can even register he has in his possession.

You look up to see him wielding a pair of scissors meant to stab Hyun-Ho by way of petty retribution. Without hesitation, you drag Hyun-Ho out from the room, knowing the more Kyung-Jun sees him, the angrier he'll become. "Gaesaekki, get back here! I'm not through with you yet.”

Having had enough of standing around as a mere spectator, you step into the room before Hyun-Ho can stop you, moving Kyung-Jun away from Jun-Hee and stand between them. "Will you give it a rest for goodness' sake?!" He simply fixes you with a steely glare but halts, gauging your reaction. "Can I tell the others what you just did? What do you think they'd say if they knew you were willing to kill someone?" You keep your tone even and face neutral, wanting to appear reasonable rather than confrontational as much as possible. Kyung-Jun relents after a short pause, albeit reluctantly, weighing the consequences. "Come to your senses."

Jung-Won sidles up beside you in support. "What's the point of talking to him?" She points a finger, jabbing it against his chest. "If we vote on you now, everyone else will follow suit. Do you want me to press your name?" Taunting him, she goes so far as to pull out her phone. "I can do it easily. Say the word and I won't think twice."

"You bitch," he grits out between clenched teeth, trying to snatch Jung-Won's device.

You grab his balled-up fist even as he tries to evade it, fingers clenching around the scissors in his right hand. "Drop this now and I promise I won't let the others know." Not backing away from his glare, you stand your ground. "Just stop here."

Surprisingly, Kyung-Jun yields to you, his curled knuckles loosening in your grasp as he thinks better of his odds against your large group. Removing your hand from his, you turn it palm side up, tilting your head toward it. Getting the hint, Kyung-Jun slaps the scissors into your outstretched fingers and steps closer threateningly, lowering his head down to look straight into your eyes. "You better keep to that promise or I won't sit still."

"Aish shibal," Seung-Bin spits out from the corner where he's slumped in a heap nursing his sore arm, forced to surrender.

You regard Kyung-Jun for the last time as you turn to leave, his eyes following when you stop short to mention, "We're all going to gather in the assembly hall in a short while. Come once you've all calmed down."

As everyone files out, Hyun-Ho throws one final remark at the bullies. "You better leave the cafeteria door open and accessible for everyone to use unless you want a repeat of this."

After the confrontation, you had dragged Hyun-Ho and Dong-Hyun by the ears to the infirmary despite the two of them protesting all the way.

Once there, you push both of their shoulders down onto the beds so hard they bounce back up before settling into the mattress, their weight dipping the material.

You stand before them with arms crossed, eyeing their identical meerkat expressions in all seriousness.

The two look back and forth between one another before glancing back up at you inquisitively, entirely confused.

"Why are we here again?" Hyun-Ho speaks up.

"This is like couple's therapy," Dong-Hyun mumbles under his breath and Hyun-Ho elbows him as you roll your eyes.

"You guys never listen," you scold, flicking both of them above the eyebrows.

"Yah!" They say in unison, hands coming up to their foreheads in sync.

"Always getting into trouble. Making me worried," you mumble, busying yourself around the room gathering supplies.

"Talk about yourself," Hyun-Ho retorts, touching his forehead where a red mark is still imprinted. You press the q-tip you were holding dipped in antiseptic and squish it against his cut lip hard, narrowing your eyes as he winces in pain and flinches away from you. "Watch it! Can't you be a bit gentler?"

"Oops, my bad," you tease with a sarcastic smile. "Tough love."

Dong-Hyun tries to hide his chuckle before you also turn to him with an ice pack in your extended hand and he swallows the next fit of laughter immediately. "It's not funny," he says, suddenly stoic. "Nothing is funny." Looking to the side and up at the ceiling, he begins to whistle, hoping to avoid the same fate as Hyun-Ho.

You laugh, hiding your smile behind your hand. "I don't know. This is pretty funny." You place the ice pack lightly down into his lap, pressing it against his stomach where he slipped face-first down the dirt hill earlier on the cliff.

"Why is he being treated better than me?" Hyun-Ho sulks.

"Because he has more injuries, none of which he intended to have." Dong-Hyun sticks his tongue out at Hyun-Ho, enjoying being off the hook. "And you," you start, tapping your forefinger against Hyun-Ho's forehead, shoving it back lightly. "You willingly put yourself into less than desirable situations without thought and get hurt for fun."

"This time there was a reason!" Hyun-Ho argues. "It's not fair for them to act all mighty when they're really nothing."

You sigh, dabbing his lip and some scratches visible on his face with ointment so that it'll heal faster. "I know there is," you concede. "But do you think Kyung-Jun cares about that?" You step back and look at the boys in front of you. "This game...we don't know how it will end. It's best if we try to avoid conflict as best we can. We can't begin to imagine what anyone is capable of with ill intent and a deep-seated grudge that refuses to go away."

"We can protect you!" Dong-Hyun chimes in. "I owe you my life."

You run a hand through your hair, fond but exasperated. "I don't want you guys to have to risk your own wellbeing for mine. I can take care of myself, you know?"

"We know," Hyun-Ho answers. "But that doesn't make us any less worried for your safety."

"Then, can you at least promise me to put your safety before my own? Please?" you plead, knowing how the boys are, unyielding in their principles. You step forward and pull them both into an embrace, their arms coming around you immediately and squeezing tight, the circle becoming smaller in the group hug.

"Are you trying to convince us with your affection or what?" Hyun-Ho's voice comes out muffled where his face is pressed into your shoulder.

"Depends," you say. "Is it working?"

"Feels weird. We never hug."

"Don't get used to it."

For once, Hyun-Ho is solemn, hugging you tighter. "Promise."

"I don't hear anything from you Dong-Hyun," you tease.

He pats your back firmly. "I promise."

"We'll all make it out of here together," you say to them quietly. "Wherever we go, as long as we have one another."

With one last squeeze, you release the two of them, insisting that they head to the auditorium first while you clean up the infirmary. By how the game was already going, you felt like this was as good a place as any to know like the back of your hand. Heavens knows more and more will be injured the longer this goes on.

You've only just started looking through the medical supply cabinet when the door to the room slams open, bounding off the wall with a hard thump.

A hand placed over your heart in shock, you swivel your head toward the sound, seeing Kyung-Jun with one foot nudging the door open, keeping it from swinging shut.

Looking behind him with his hands in his pockets, he hasn't yet realized you were even in the room at the moment. As he sighs and lifts his head from the previous position, his hand also reaches up toward his face, touching his split lip.

You're gawking still, bandages in one hand and antiseptic in the other. It was unusual to see Kyung-Jun look, if you dared to say it, so down and defeated.

Finally, he steps over the threshold and kicks the door closed behind him, looking up and stilling as his eyes make contact with yours. You don't miss them widening slightly, clearly expecting the room to have been unoccupied.

Without saying a word, he turns on his heel about to leave, but putting the clues together, you stop him in his tracks.

"You clearly came for something."

"That's none of your business," he replies evenly, one hand on the doorknob.

"Then, I'll leave so you can stay," you offer.

You see his fingers slackening from the handle before he spins around again, analyzing you. The silence is uncomfortable, and his penetrating gaze, suffocating. Whatever it is he was searching for in your expression finally settles a look of indifference over him, his shoulders slumping.

"No." He takes a few steps forward, still staring at you. "You were here first."

Your eyebrows knit together, not quite understanding. "Come again?"

He purses his lips together, clearly regretting having remained in the room when he should've left. "Stay and do whatever you need to do and I'll wait until you're done."

Kyung-Jun plops himself on the bed Hyun-Ho and Dong-Hyun were just seated on earlier and the atmosphere is such a stark difference, you're tempted to pinch yourself to see if you happened to be hallucinating. Never in your right mind would you ever think you and Kyung-Jun could be in the same place at once without the former going on a rampage. You two were not the type of people who belonged together in any type of setting.

He leans against the hospital bed frame and kicks his leg out on the length of it, remaining quiet.

Decidedly, You don't say anything more and go back to sorting through the supplies, earnestly wanting to get out of the room as soon as possible. The only reason you didn't go escaping at the first sight of Kyung-Jun was you didn't want him to think you feared him at all in any capacity. He always used others' distress as leverage against them to remain in control and you weren't going to fall prey to that trap.

"When will you be done?" he asks, and you can feel the slight irritation in his voice rising.

"Soon," you counter curtly, disregarding his presence. Despite that, you can feel his stare fixated on the back of your head.

You hear rustling followed by liquid sloshing and you turn around just in time to see Kyung-Jun about to smear something on his face from a suspicious bottle that looks a lot like the one you told Na-Hee to use for her foot. You scurry over in a haste and yank it away from Kyung-Jun.

"What the fuck?!" He curses, as a q-tip drops from his hand, tumbling to the floor. His eyes are narrowed in slits as he glowers at you. "Didn't I tell you to do your thing and I'll do mine?"

"This..." you reveal to him in an even tone, pointing to the brown bottle, "...is for the feet only."

His eyes shift over to the label on the bottle he definitely did not read earlier in your grasp. If you didn't know any better, you would say he looks a little sheepish and embarrassed at the blunder.

"Aish," he groans, hand once again going to his lip as the wound stretches from the movement of forming words.

Shaking your head, you walk back to the cabinets, setting the bottle on a high shelf and grabbing the antiseptic you stored away earlier. With new cotton swabs and circular bandaids in hand, you approach Kyung-Jun and place it on the bedside table.

"I'll do it for you."

"I didn't ask."

"First, you came here to the infirmary for an obvious reason," you start ticking off on your fingers what you've observed. "Two, you could've kicked me out like you usually do to others that are in your space." He makes to speak but you plow on, unperturbed. "And finally, the third and most important point, you clearly don't know what you're doing." You look at him with a pointed stare. "Isn't that why you allowed me to stay? You weren't going to ask for help, but on the off chance you swallow your pride and decide to, it's better to have someone here. Am I wrong?"

"No, but I don't like to admit that I am."

"You can try, starting from today."

That draws a smirk from Kyung-Jun. "I like you better than Hyun-Ho." He glances up at your face again from his seated position, swinging his legs over the side and onto the ground, scooting to the edge and closer to you. "You have guts," he says, tapping his forefinger near his lip. "Go ahead." He visibly has to bite his tongue after, inwardly reprimanding himself for having said it at all. Shaking himself out of it, Kyung-Jun closes his eyes and lifts his chin up, inclining his head toward yours.

He's tall even as he's sitting, and you have to lean forward, bending at the waist to be able to clean both his lip and his forehead wound. It wasn't hard to fall out of favor with Kyung-Jun who more or less saw everyone like a thorn in his side, yet for some unknown reason, he tolerates you—back in the cafeteria and even now.

You pause with a swab in hand, not exactly sure how to touch his face. The wait has him opening his eyes, one at a time until they're focused on you, gaze steadfast. "Don't get scared now." He pulls your free hand against the side of his face in a much gentler manner than you expected. "I don't bite."

You look up at him, considering, and he lifts his brows at you. "We'll see."

The corner of one side of his lips quirk up in amusement, but he doesn't say anything else, opting to stare straight at you as you work, easily disinfecting the hurt areas and applying ointment after, waiting for it to dry before you can cover it up. Kyung-Jun's eyes lazily trail the path of your pupil's movements as you inspect the wounds, but he sits still otherwise, not flinching at all, no matter how deep you press the q-tip in certain spots.

"You sure have a high pain tolerance," you intone more so to yourself, having a habit of voicing your thoughts at times.

"I do, but I can't lie that this still hurts like a bitch."

"And you decided to not say anything?"

"You're gentle."

You tilt your head at him in perplexity, and he runs a frustrated hand through his hair. "Don't give me that look."

"What look?"

He doesn't say anything anymore, and you don't push it, bewildered and curious all at once. You were genuinely confused. His labile personality was giving you whiplash but you power through it and finally place the bandaids on him, stepping away.

"You didn't give me weird themed ones, did you?" He inquires suspiciously, tapping both bandaids to make sure.

"Of course not. That would be a waste of the nice ones."

He studies you for a moment, halting his movements before finally getting back up to his feet. "Don't tell anyone I was here." Gone was his usual bravado and you finally understand why he had ditched Seung-Bin and Jin-Ha back in the cafeteria, along with the explanation for his shifty actions prior to entering the room. He didn't want to be seen as weak.

"I wouldn't dream of it," you confirm resolutely, finding no necessary reason to ever bring it up to anyone anyway.

"I mean it." Kyung-Jun points a finger at you. "If you do, I'll kill you."

"People who truly want to kill someone won't announce it beforehand. They just will."

Kyung-Jun lowers his arm, having been caught in his bluff and contemplates your very nature at the core, stare lingering before shaking his head to himself and striding toward the door. As he opens it to step outside, he pivots and casts his attention on you once more. "That look... I hate it like crazy." It finally registers to you that he was circling back to what he said earlier. "Your eyes...." he pauses, gaze flitting back and forth between your own. "Some people will misunderstand and think you actually care."

With that, he leaves, and you're left in the dark wondering if by some people he was referring only to himself.

As you finally make it to the gymnasium, everyone is congregated in a circle, the atmosphere tense and somber. You slip in beside Jun-Hee with Yoon-Seo to your right cradling her phone.

"I gathered all of you here not to decide whom we should vote for, but to give up on voting for good," Jun-Hee starts, hushed murmurs spreading through the crowd.

"Abandon voting?" someone probes with uncertainty. "Are you sure about that?"

"If we vote, one person is guaranteed to die. If we don't, we all stay alive."

"What if we agree to this but someone votes in secret. What will you do then?"

Although Mi-Na wasn't outrightly rejecting the idea, you didn't think she was really in favor of it either, going by the questions she brought up, her wariness ran high. You didn't blame her for you could count on one hand those you without reasonable doubt one hundred percent trust.

"She has a point," Ji-Soo concurs. "How can we truly believe you that this is the best option for us all?" Yu-Jun doesn't chime in, settling for taking glances at his girlfriend as he quietly debates the suggestion.

"We should at least try to trust one another," Jun-Hee resolves. "We can collect the phones so no one will be allowed to vote."

Eun-Ha nods, deep in thought. "He's right. That'll work." You look over at her, analyzing her actions and statements up until now. Call it your astuteness or pure instinct, but she in no way, shape, or form struck you as a Mafia member.

Ji-Soo continues to dissect Jun-Hee's idea, not so readily agreeable. "Who's going to guard the phones, then? The person in charge might change their minds last minute."

She's not wrong per se, given that your classmates were willing to go through with murder, a small betrayal like this didn't seem too far fetch.

Yoon-Seo gestures with her phone to the center of the court. "In the middle. We can all keep watch over it."

"What if someone steals it?" Mi-Na adds in, looking around at everyone's faces lacking confidence. "I'm not doing it." She takes a step back, crossing her arms and hiding her phone. "Don't count on me handing in my phone."

"I think it's a decent plan," Yu-Jun speaks up weakly, daring to take a peek at his girlfriend this time, linking arms with her. "Let's give our phones, yeah?"

Ji-Soo retracts her arm, rounding on him, her open blouse flapping wildly. "Are you crazy?!"

As the couple argues back and forth much less strained than you expected, probably due to Yu-Jun's calm demeanor and ability to recognize Ji-Soo's short temper, it helps her simmer down somewhat, the two going on to hold a conversation despite their differences.

"Can't you live without your phone for a few minutes?!" Joo-Young outbursts against Mi-Na, reaching out toward her friend's mobile device.

Mi-Na evades Joo-Young's hands and sidesteps the circle. "Why the hell are you yelling at me?!" Angrily, she tugs her hair roller out from its strong hold on her bangs and tosses it to the floor in a show of defiance.

"Gosh, you all are noisy and annoying," Kyung-Jun bellows, everyone immediately shutting up. "Banjang is actually making sense for once. Why won't you cooperate?" Looks are thrown around the room, curious as to why Kyung-Jun is siding with Jun-Hee. He doesn't agree with anyone or follow the rules, gladly making his own to follow. When no one says a word, Kyung-Jun grits his teeth and fixes everyone with a menacing stare. "I'm not asking. I'm telling you to do it, and you better damn well listen to me when I'm being nice." He emphasizes the end of his sentence, purposefully throwing it in Hyun-Ho's direction, echoing the words relayed to him previously.

The wait that follows is excruciating after Kyung-Jun collects phones and thumps the trash can haphazardly into the center ring. You and Yoon-Seo had tied white ropes in a line and placed it around the receptacle, enclosing it within, almost like no-man's land.

[ ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ ɪs ᴀ ᴍɪɴᴜᴛᴇ ʟᴇғᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴠᴏᴛᴇ. ]

No matter how many times you hear the announcement, it still makes goosebumps run across your skin and your hair stand on end, habituated to expect the deathly siren to follow.

"Yah Prez, are you sure we'll be alright?" Seung-Bin probes, head in his hands and fingers running through his buzzed hair repetitively, visibly anxious.

Calmly, Jun-Hee replies to him but doesn't take his eyes away from the collection bin. "Let's just wait a little longer. It's not midnight yet."

"Fuck this shit..." Seung-Bin curses as he settles down, trying to manage his restlessness by wringing his hands in his lap instead.

All around you, your classmates are either sitting frozen with eyes unmoving from the center, biting their nails to the nub, or pulling their hair out in worry, scattered in various spots. Some are in chairs, others are on the floor, and the remaining are lying down like they've given up already.

You're no better, sitting cross-legged with your eyes transfixed on the clock by the exit sign, unwilling to remove your eyes from the second hand. 30 seconds to go. Every tick of the black plastic has your heart beating along with it, palpitations irregular and resoundingly loud in your ears. You don't realize you're bouncing your leg repeatedly against the heel of your foot below it until Jun-Hee lays a warm palm on the exposed skin of your knee, just below the cover of your skirt and you turn to him, his eyes silently questioning.

You nod and smile back, trying to not make it as strained as it feels. His touch is a welcoming distraction in forcing you to stop staring at the numbers on the clock you've been so focused on that the printed dots and dashes begin to blur into a swipe of black and white, hypnotizing you.

All of a sudden, Woo-Ram springs up, his metal hair skidding back as the legs screech against the wooden floors. He points with a shaky finger toward the clock. "Hey, hey, hey." He pats those next to him hurriedly. "It's past midnight now and there was no announcement. Did it work...?"

You whip your head toward the clock and sure enough, it was now well past twelve, time ticking by so much faster than when you were waiting on it.

"Have we made it?" So-Mi's eyes widen in shock, the first time you've seen a true reaction from her not screened by her fake acting.

"We did it..." Jun-Hee whispers as you both spring to your feet, unable to believe in the miracle of a loophole.

Joo-Young turns to Mi-Na, grabbing and shaking her in excitement. "It's over! We've beaten the game!"

Jun-Hee draws you into a triumphant hug, holding you close. You can feel the smile on his face as he presses his cheek against yours. He's squeezing you so tight, it almost lifts you off the ground, your arms winding around his neck as you stretch on tiptoes, celebrations breaking out all around you.

In a matter of seconds, the smile drops right off of your face and your throat closes up as the alarm blares incessantly, signaling a broken rule.

Jun-Hee's arms fall from around your waist as he falters back, staring at the intercom, almost wishing he could will it away.

[ ᴘᴀʀᴛɪᴄɪᴘᴀɴᴛs ᴍᴜsᴛ ᴠᴏᴛᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ɪᴅᴇɴᴛɪғʏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴀғɪᴀ. ]

Without a second thought, Joo-Young scurries toward the trash can of phones.

"What are you doing?!" Hyun-Ho yells to closed ears.

"What does it look like I'm doing?" Joo-Young counters, spinning around to look at him, crazed. "Nothing else but grabbing my phone." She gestures wildly at everyone's sheer panic. "And if we do nothing only to die? Are you going to take responsibility?!"

"You can't return lost lives and you know it," Mi-Na reiterates, hastily moving to where Joo-Young is standing right on the ropes acting as a barrier.

"Wait..." Jun-Hee splutters.

"For what are we hesitating? We're still doomed," Joo-Young says with frustration.

"Stop blaming Jun-hee and settle down," So-Mi states from her spot on a chair, unmoving. Her friends listen to her for the time being and you wonder what she has over their heads that they willingly cater to her and heed her every beck and call.

Mi-Na's abrupt scream pierces the room as a body unexpectedly drops from atop the bleachers onto the floor with a sickening thud.

Your blood runs cold as you eye your fellow classmate, knowing a drop from that height would've crushed her organs resulting in internal hemorrhage with only fatality as the outcome.

There's no salvation.

Your hands shake and you have to clasp them together hard enough that your knuckles lose all color. Even then, they continue to tremble.

You wonder belatedly if in this position you could pray. Would the gods offer saving grace, or have they abandoned you too?

Instantaneously, another body plops down on top of the previous one, the impact so hard the corpses rebound off the ground before plopping with listless limbs back to the floor, the cracking of bones clacking.

Blood pools, a sea of red expanding vaster and vaster.

[ ғᴏʀ ʙʀᴇᴀᴋɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴜʟᴇs, ʟᴇᴇ sᴏᴏ-ʙɪɴ ᴀɴᴅ ᴘᴀʀᴋ ᴊɪ-ʜᴏᴏɴ, ᴡʜᴏ ᴡᴇʀᴇ ʙᴏᴛʜ ᴄɪᴛɪᴢᴇɴs, ᴡɪʟʟ ʙᴇ ᴇxᴇᴄᴜᴛᴇᴅ. ]

"Grab your phones if you don't want to wind up like them!" Kyung-Jun shouts across the gymnasium as someone chucks the trash can overhead and phones scatter every which way.

Complete pandemonium and utter chaos ensue as every single person resort to crawling on all fours to locate their phones, no less like grave sinners atoning for their wrongdoings, groveling for leniency and forgiveness.

[ ғᴏʀ ʙʀᴇᴀᴋɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴜʟᴇs, ᴏʜ ᴊɪɴ-sᴇᴏᴋ ᴡɪʟʟ ʙᴇ ᴇxᴇᴄᴜᴛᴇᴅ. ᴏʜ ᴊɪɴ-sᴇᴏᴋ ᴡᴀs ᴀ ᴄɪᴛɪᴢᴇɴ.]

Jun-Hee's legs give out and he falls onto the floor, staring lifelessly into the void of the room, unblinking, overcome by the burden of guilt and the deaths he sentenced innocent individuals to inadvertently.

"Jun-Hee..." you call out weakly as you kneel beside him, receiving no answer for the first time.

A deafening silence befalls upon the room as bodies continue to barrage down with every passing minute from the rafters, lifeless forms hurtling to the ground with abandon amidst the crimson flashing lights.

The danger.

The warning signs.

Red as pure evil.

Why didn't anyone see it sooner?

Why didn't you?

But how could you? When Jun-Hee's still here in front of you, dressed in white, like a fallen angel succumbed to watching human suffering. Your eyes can only see him even in the shroud of red, but you're forced to remove your rose-tinted glasses. No, this shade of red isn't the color of love, of ardor, or of vitality.

It is the color that dyes the remnants of anger, uncontrolled flames, and stains of blood.

Not even the gentle flashes of white associated with light, goodness, and transcendence can mask the deep hue permeating all around.

Instead of peace, you see madness.

Instead of bliss, you see misery.

Instead of life, you see death.

No more did the divine exist in white.

The gods aren't here—you're all alone.

Yet, try as you might, how can you dare to blame the gods when humans are the most dangerous of all?

Unforgiving.

Unrelenting.

Self-persevering.

Plain naïve.

You had hoped—hoped so desperately.

But to hope is to risk disappointment. Now it's gone and left, leaving you exposed and vulnerable, clinging onto the shreds of previously existing innocent expectations.

The space has become a battlefield littered with bodies and drenched in torrents of blood.

Red meant war.

And you're losing the fight.

𝟬𝟯 : 𝗙𝗜𝗡𝗘 𝗟𝗜𝗡𝗘𝗦 | 𝟬𝟱: 𝗛𝗘𝗔𝗗𝗦 𝗢𝗥 𝗧𝗔𝗜𝗟𝗦

© 𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐭 𝐠𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐨𝐟’ 𝐍𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐇𝐚𝐬 𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐞. 𝐈 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐝𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐦𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨, 𝐝𝐢𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞, 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐳𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐧𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫-𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐭. 𝐀𝐥𝐬𝐨, 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐳𝐞, 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞, 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐛𝐮𝐭𝐞, 𝐨𝐫 𝐮𝐩𝐥𝐨𝐚𝐝 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐞𝐥𝐬𝐞𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐦 𝐢𝐭 𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐚 𝐝𝐢𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞.

[antispopausandstuff]

Romantic Homicide

.

[ synopsis - a rewrite of 'Don't Go' by Nate Stevenson // 'Taking Control' s5 ep 6 ]

.

for a moment, the hero can barely inhale.

those claws, holding onto her so tightly, that she can barely process anything else. not even her own heartbeat.

she wants to let go.

but then Catra would fall deeper.

would that be her fault, too?

after slowed time, Adora finds it in herself to push up onto her feet, adjusts her grip on the woman in her arms, and walks. it's a strange feeling, to be so sluggish and energized at once. exhaustion. adrenaline.

from fear.

she didn't know when they got to the empty room. an extra space.

"...Catra," she breathes, quiet and ragged. a simple command. no, a plea, to let go. the Magicat's ear twitches once, her hold loosening only slightly, but not setting her free.

Adora sets her down on the bed.

the claws stay.

"let go," she says, unable to be as harsh as she wants to be.

all this time, and she's still soft.

when the hands release her, Adora breathes further.

silence continues as clothes are found and water is given. they don't talk. what could be said at this moment that would change anything, ever, at all? what could be forgotten?

"Adora."

the exit is right there. she could leave. she wants to.

yet, she still stops when that voice calls to her. for her.

looking over her shoulder, blue and yellow eyes stare right at her, something like guilt trapped within them. one that couldn't be trusted, after all these years of pain and suffering, of blood and an unforgiving darkness. one that grew and grew until no room was left.

guarded, Adora slowly turns. "what is it?" she asks, neutral and distant. the distance that was always there protruding and showing itself out in the open without spilling.

the Magicat shifts in her spot.

"i..." a swallow. nerves. "why did you come back?"

come back.

is that how she viewed it?

"why did you come back? we both know i don't matter."

"i can't let you die here."

at the time, thoughts were messy and looking deeper could've cost more than it was going to be worth.

but now...

with bated breath, she stands straight and forward. "i didn't," she replies, states, blunt, direct, and impersonal. as it should've been.

silence hangs over once more.

and she leaves.

.

when she comes to ( from what, she doesn't know ), a hand is on her shoulder, calloused, chipped, bruised, yet gentle and inviting.

Bow.

"you were spacing out again," he explains, lowering his hand to hers as worry settles in his eyes. "is it... Catra?" he asks next, though he sounds expectant.

of course he is.

Adora breathes again. without a word, she nods, and the archer sits by her, hand at her waist as he pulls her into an embrace. she wraps an arm around him in turn, head on his shoulder.

she was exhausted.

.

it was hard, to care for someone you wanted to stay away from.

to hold back against someone who shouted at you.

to keep the words "of course i hate you" in your throat.

she didn't lie, but she wasn't able to speak the truth, either.

all the hero could do was walk away.

"i'm such an idiot."

.

talking to Glimmer was hard.

less difficult than Catra, more difficult than Bow.

but she had to do it. she had to.

"...why was she so nice to you?"

it was a selfish question. she knew that.

but the Queen's eyes showed sympathy anyway.

Glimmer had spoken of her time with Catra on Horde Prime's ship. said she wasn't so terrible, for a time, and even listened to her every now and then until she just... suddenly saved 'her'.

and Adora couldn't help but feel...

envious?

logically, she knew Catra was only out for herself at that time ( maybe all the time ), but it still hurt, somehow, to hear that she was different, if it was only for a time.

why couldn't she be different for me?

"you're such an idiot."

"i think she just wanted to feel better about herself. in a weird, self-pitying way," Glimmer answers.

that was the only answer possible.

because Catra couldn't have wanted more than the power she was given, now could she?

"don't you get it?! i am NEVER going to go with you!"

a hand. warm, almost hot, through the fabric of her jacket, seeping into the skin of her shoulder. "Adora," the Queen called out, bringing her back to the world around them.

for now, reality was kind and bittersweet.

.

Catra's claws were bared.

in the next instance, that hand was pinned to the wall, the grip over it almost vice. the claws didn't go away.

Adora could barely hear the voices around her.

with furrowed brows, her chest heavy, she slowly let go and took steps back. "we're doing this," she declares, unforgiving. "and if hiding from the people you've almost killed will make you feel better, we'll drop you off and you never have to see us again!"

silence.

taking a deep breath, she slowly turns away. "i'll never have to see you again," she mutters, walking across the unstable ground.

but, before she could escape, that damned hand grabbed her wrist.

"Adora, wait!"

looking down, the Magicat was on her knees.

the hand dragged down until it wrapped around the hero's palm, keeping her there.

"please."

a skip. nerves bundled in her gut, an urge in her throat.

let go of me.

those blue and yellow eyes showed themselves.

"stay."

...and she did.

.

it was nightfall, according to Entrapta.

regardless, everyone was exhausted and wanted to sleep.

but Catra didn't want her to go.

sitting on the mattress, Adora fiddled with her necklace. somewhere along the way, the sword transformed itself. maybe it was the anxiety of everything, of Catra being here, right behind her.

the answers were unclear.

many seem to be nowadays.

the voice cut through her thoughts, low, almost rough. she didn't fully hear what was said, but she knew well enough.

everything suddenly felt more closed in.

slowly, rigidly, Adora shifted her position, laying down on her side, one leg in contact with the floor with the other on the mattress. she was facing away.

she didn't want the covers.

the ship was silent.

and the hero didn't sleep.

just listened to the Magicat's breathing turn to snores and hope she didn't wake up to need her again.

[justauthoring]

regret.

*regret: feel sad, repentant, or disappointed over (something that has happened or been done, especially a loss or missed opportunity).

pairing: levi ackerman x f!reader

a/n: i really hope levi isn’t ooc in this... this is the first time i’ve ever written for him and it was a struggle.

warnings: wh*pping, mild s*xual assault

“Let go of me! Get your hands of me!”

The shrilling realization dawns on Levi like a weight had been dropped on him.

Like he’d been smack straight across the face.

Like the world was caving in on him.

Your screams and the echoing footsteps only confirm the fact which he’d been so desperate to ignore; so desperate for it to never happen. How was it Humanity’s Strongest Soldier was weak enough to get taken into enemy hands?

How was it he was weak enough to let you get taken into enemy hands?

“Stop it! Let the f*ck go!”

Your voice is shrilling, piercing and loud enough to echo through the halls and all the way to end where he was. He had no way of getting to you, no way of simply peering past the bars of the cell he found himself in. It had taken three men to wrestle him in here and the assistance of a four to bring him to his knees, rip his shirt off and chain his hands above his head. He was sure he was bruised, some old--some new. 

He could feel an agonizing pain welling in his left hip where he distinctly remembered receiving a rather hard kick; courtesy of him landing a hit of his own.

But that had been fine. It hadn’t really mattered. Levi could take it, suffered worse and the whole entire thing was fine because you had gotten away; safe, away from the enemy, and alive.

Or, at least he thought.

He could take on an army of men, but you couldn’t. No normal human could. Levi knew that, so, sacrificing himself so that you were okay was an easy enough decision to make. A choice made without hesitation.

And yet, here you were.

The footsteps grow louder and then suddenly the loud shrieking creak of his cell door opening is enough to make his ears ache. All your bravo simply stops the second you see Levi, and his head slowly raises to watch the way your body falls limp in the arms of the men holding you--not even bothering a struggle any longer.

And that hurts more than anything.

You’re brought to the far left corner, opposite of him, chained up like a mirror of himself.

He curses when your shirt is torn off the top of your head, a snarl leaving his lips as you suck back the whimper that threatens to leave you. Levi’s chains rattle in an attempt to reach you, feeling so entirely unlike himself; weak and helpless and unable to do anything as the men who’d ripped your shirt off simply laughs, eyeing you like you’re nothing but a piece of meat, left in nothing but your bra, hands chained above you.

Just as helpless and weak.

The cell door slams shut behind them.

“Captain...” 

You’re the first to speak, that one moment of silence ending but Levi struggles to look at you. If not for your vulnerability, but for the fact that he feels responsible.

And so damn frustrated.

“Captain, I-I’m sorry... I tried to get away but more of them--”

“You’ve got nothing to apologize for, Y/N,” he swiftly interrupts, not even wanting to the words to simply breathe air. He looks at you then, making sure to never let his own gaze waver below your eyes for your own humility, and shakes his head. “This... sh*t. This is my fault.”

You shuffle forward, like you’ve forgotten your own restraints; shuffling on your knees before you halt, frowning.

“I-I managed to signal, someone should come. Someone has to.”

Before or after you’re hurt?

It’s a thought he can’t escape from.

The next hour is spent in silence. Levi’s never been one for conversation, and he knows even less on how to comfort you. He doesn’t know what to say or how to express the way he feels--how scared he is and not because of himself, but for you. How he wants to keep you safe, how he wants nothing more than to get the both of you out of here and far, far away.

So, even when the soft sound of your sniffling catches his attention, he still remains scarily silent.

But the silence ends and Levi tenses as a different man walks in, shorter and fatter then the rest, one he hadn’t seen before. There’s a sick sort of twisted smile on his face as he regards both of you, letting his eyes linger on you moment longer than Levi doesn’t miss, before he claps his hands, loud and Levi also doesn’t miss the way it makes you jump.

Two men follow in after, a whip in one’s hand and a knife in the other.

“You’ve got two choices,” the fat one speaks up finally, voice gravelly and sickening to the ears. “It’s fun that way. Like a game.”

Levi’s eyes narrow into slits at the laugh that leaves his throat, straightening his back out, fists clench.

“First choice,” he holds one finger up, eyeing the both of you. Levi watches his eyes slide from himself, before settling on you, and it’s like a lightbulb goes off in his head; “you,” he points directly at you, and Levi tenses. “Get to choose. Him,” he nods to Levi, “or you.”

And there’s no point asking why?

The answers clear.

It’s a sickening realization. Praying on you because the man knows you’ll choose yourself, even if you’re afraid and because he wants to hurt you. He’s far more excited to hurt you, and Levi knows this. He knows it and can’t do a damn thing about it.

“You pick me,” Levi speaks up, turning to you as your wide eyes fall on him. “That’s an order, Y/N. You pick me.”

Your lips part, bottom lip trembling; “C-Captain, I--”

“Pick me.” And his voice is strict, not yelling but still it cuts through you. You jerk in response, nails digging into the palms of your hands as you blink back at him.

“I-I...--”

“I gave you an order, Y/N!”

Your eyes are welling and the fear is clear on your face. And it hurts. Stabs him right in the heart, hating seeing you so scared; hating that he can’t do anything to help you. To make you feel better. Hating that he’s part of the reason why you’re terrified; all because he wants to take the pain for you.

“Times ticking.” The man calls, voice taunting. “You don’t decide, we decide for you.”

His point is made clear as he takes a step towards Levi.

“Me!” You bellow, voice cracking at the end of it, “I choose me.”

“No!”

Levi hardly realizes it’s him screaming. His minds gone blank.

“No, pick me! Y/N, choose me! Hey, Y/N!”

“Shut up, or we k*ll her now!”

Chest heaving, wrists turning raw, Levi turns his narrowed eyes to the man.

“Now,” he claps again, turning to you, “second choice!”

You’re shaking. Violently. You’re a strong soldier, one of the best; Levi knows. It’s why he chose you for his team.

But you’re terrified. Beyond belief.

This was entirely different than killing Titans.

“Either we whip you,” he gestures to the man with the whip, “or... we cut the answers out of you. Either way I’ll find out what I want to know. From either of you.” Then, smiling that sick smile, he crouches in front of you, setting the tips of his fingers on your cheek and the touch is enough to send Levi into another fit.

The man just ignores him.

“You choose.”

Heart racing, mind numb, Levi watches as your shoulders fall and your answer slips past your lips; “whip.”

“Not my preferred choice, but still. It’ll do.”

Standing, the man nods.

“Perhaps, we’ll get the chance for the knife tomorrow.”

And it’s eerily silent as the man with the whip walks around you, making sure to take his time, nice and slow; taunting you. You’re still shaking, even more so, and it isn’t until the man’s behind you that your eyes meet Levi’s.

The crack of the whip sends a cry from your lips so piercing, so horrible that all Levi can see is red.

And the anger grows, festers, blossoming deep in his chest as the whip hits you once again, the crack echoing. You’re holding back your tears, but quiet sniffles slip past and everything fades away in Levi’s mind. All he can think is how he’s going to k*ll every last one of them.

It happens before any of them can realize.

Too engrossed in your pain.

He gathers all his strength, something he hadn’t known he had crawling it’s way up his throat as he pulls, fists clenched and just pulls. Again and again until the chain snaps, concaving in on itself from the cheer force of Levi’s anger and lust to k*ll.

He moves without thought. Just... moving.

Ripping the knife from the man, he slices it across his throat, turning around with a swing and doing the same to the fat man. All that’s left is the man with the whip. The man who’d hurt you.

Who’d touched you.

“Please--Please, just--”

He never finishes his pathetic begging. Levi gains on him, slowly at first, threatening, before he lunges; the knife goes straight into the mans eye, through and pinning him to wall behind him.

Covered in blood, raging with the intent to murder, it isn’t until Levi hears you call for him does he snap out of it.

He spins, falling to his knees before you. Levi’s first priority is to break the chains restraining you, letting your hands fall before yourself as you bring your knees up. Then, he gently guides you forward, so that he can see your back. It’s angry, red lines that bleed and swell along your skin. Levi’s hands hover in front of you, not sure what to do--not sure how to help.

His hands have only ever killed. Have only ever hurt. 

He doesn’t know how to help. How to comfort.

But then he feels your hand on his shoulder and he pulls back, letting his eyes fall on you as you gaze up at him. You’re just... looking at him. With that same stupid admiration you always look at him with; even in a moment like this. With you bleeding, hurt and it’s all his fault and you’re still--

“Thank you, Captain.”

He just shakes his head; “you should’ve chose me...”

“I made the best decision I could in the moment.”

His eyes widen, lips parting.

“No regrets, right?” You smile faintly at him.

No regrets...

All Levi feels is regret.

[bloody-bee-tea]

Beetober 2024 Day 13 - Never changing

Shouta is just getting out his sleeping bag when Nemuri walks in and levels him with a look.

“Wait,” she says and immediately steps closer, closer than Shouta really likes and so he leans back as far as he can, until he hits Hizashi’s desk. “I never realised but is that the same fucking sleeping bag you had since graduation?” Nemuri asks and Shouta frowns at her.

“Of course it is,” he gives back, because he’s been caring for it well, thank you very much, and it would be wasteful to replace something that’s still good to use.

“Next you’re telling me you’re still living of mostly jelly packs, too,” Nemuri sighs out, pinching the bridge of her nose as if this is hurting her and Shouta can’t quite hide the guilty look it seems, because Nemuri squeals.

“No way! You have your hubby to cook for you though, don’t you?”

“Rude,” Hizashi mutters without looking up from the papers he’s currently grading and Shouta sends him a betrayed look when he doesn’t say anything else.

He could at least come to his aid here, Shouta thinks, but his attention is caught by Nemuri again when she lets out a long-suffering sigh.

“You really did not change at all,” she mutters. “Still the same as during high-school.”

“I just like my things to be consistent,” Shouta grumbles back and then worms his way into his sleeping bag, prepared to ignore Nemuri for everything else she might say.

Nemuri doesn’t abandon her spot in front of Shouta’s desk though, so he shuffles underneath Hizashi’s, who readily makes space for him and when Shouta can lean his head against his leg he admits that this might be the better place anyway.

“You’re so gross,” Nemuri whispers and now that gets Hizashi to look up.

“We’re not even doing anything,” he confusedly says and Shouta doesn’t have to open his eyes to know that she’s waggling her eyebrows at him.

“I know, that’s the entire problem. That’s the prime position for some naugh—”

“Good night,” Shouta loudly says, cutting her off and then wills himself to fall asleep, simply so he doesn’t have to deal with this anymore.

It’s a good way to escape this stupid conversation.

~*~*~

Shouta can’t stop thinking about it. Nemuri’s words have wormed their way into his brain and he can’t stop thinking about them. And he can’t stop noticing how right she was.

He’s still the same he was in high-school. He still has the same sleeping bag, he buys the same brand and flavour of jelly packs, he dresses the same. He hasn’t changed at all and it’s suddenly bothering him.

Apparently enough so, that even Hizashi picks up on it because one evening he levels Shouta with this look that looks straight to his core.

“Spit it out,” is all he says, because he knows Shouta well enough to know that something is on his mind and probably also because none of his tells have changed over the years, either.

Fuck, it’s bothering him so much.

“Why do you love me?” he blurts out, and even though that’s not exactly what has been on his mind, he realises that it’s exactly what’s been bothering him.

Shouta himself is fine with being exactly like he was as a teenager. He didn’t lie when he said he likes consistency, and he liked who he was as a teenager as well, no matter how unlikely that seems, and in all honesty, Shouta doesn’t deal well with changes.

But Hizashi is like water, always moving, always filling up different shapes and he fails to see how someone like Hizashi could still love him when he’s like a rock.

Hizashi only blinks at him, clearly caught completely off guard and Shouta’s mouth twists unhappily.

“I mean, why do you still love me?”

“I—don’t understand,” Hizashi admits after another long moment of silence and Shouta heaves out a sigh.

“I’m—still the same as during high-school,” he mutters and Hizashi’s frown only deepens.

“So you mean to say you’re still the same guy I fell in love with then?” he asks as if it should be obvious but Shouta shakes his head.

“No, I mean—yeah,” he says, frustrated that he can’t properly put it into words and when Hizashi lifts his arm in invitation, Shouta happily scuttles closer, pressing right into his side, because thinking is a little bit easier like this, with his favourite person close and those scrutinizing eyes no longer in his field of vision.

“I still don’t get it,” Hizashi tells him once Shouta is settled and this, too, hasn’t changed.

Shouta is still as unable to talk about his own feelings as he had been years ago.

“It’s just. I haven’t changed. I don’t understand why you’d still love me when I haven’t changed one bit since our high-school days,” he finally blurts out and Hizashi lets out an amused laugh.

“Right, because how dare I still love you if you are the same as when I fell in love with you. How silly of me,” he teases but he presses Shouta close, dropping a kiss to his head. “And you have changed, you just didn’t change,” he then goes on as if that makes any sense at all and Shouta pokes him in the side for it.

“You’re speaking nonsense,” he informs him and Hizashi hums, clearly thinking about his next words.

“Your base traits are all still there, you just got—more intense about them?” he then tries out and Shouta feels him nod. “Yeah, you’re more intense about things. All the things actually. You value your sleep even more now, you tolerate bullshit less than ever, you love so much more intensely than before. It’s all just you still, but dialled up and I guess that counts as a change.”

“And it doesn’t bother you?”

“Why would that bother me?”

“I—basically didn’t grow up at all,” Shouta huffs out, because it might be bothering him.

“Maybe you were born fully grown, did that ever occur to you?” Hizashi shoots back and Shouta blinks, because in all honesty, it hasn’t occurred to him.

Maybe he truly has always known who he was and simply didn’t have to figure that out, so that’s why he didn’t change. He still likes the same things and does things the same way, because that’s how he likes it and because it’s simply who he is.

“Could be,” he admits after a moment and Hizashi huffs.

“Is this about what Nemuri said a while ago?” Hizashi asks because he’s way too perceptive and Shouta shrugs, which is as good as a resounding yes. “She didn’t mean to give you an identity crisis, you know.”

“I know,” Shouta sighs out and he knows exactly where Hizashi is going with this because ever since that interaction, he might have avoided Nemuri. Just a little bit.

“You always were like that, avoiding people when they gave you something to fret over until you had it all figured out in your head.”

“And I never managed to do it on my own, I always needed you or Oboro for that,” Shouta admits because Hizashi is right.

This hasn’t changed at all, either.

“That’s right,” Hizashi agrees. “It makes you kind of—mhh, predictable, but not in a bad way. It’s comforting, to know how your mind works.”

“It’s comforting?”

“Very,” Hizashi says and then leans sideways against the arm of the couch, so Shouta is draped more firmly over him. “I like knowing what to expect with you. You’re a constant and I love that.”

Shouta hadn’t looked at it that way before, hadn’t realised that someone else might find comfort in that kind of stability as well and it settles something in him to hear it from Hizashi now.

“Good. I love you, too,” Shouta mutters as he buries his face in Hizashi’s chest and he shivers when a laugh rolls through their bodies.

“And I can always be sure that that is not going to change any time soon,” Hizashi whispers as he cards his fingers through Shouta’s hair and he realises that Hizashi is most likely right about that.

Shouta has loved him almost since the moment he laid eyes on him and it’s been years since then. And he only ever loves Hizashi more—gets more intense about it, like Hizashi said—and that’s not going to change any time soon.

~*~*~

Something’s been bugging Hizashi, Shouta can tell. There’s something brewing in him and Shouta has no intention of letting it boil over so when Hizashi passes the couch for the third time that evening, his mind clearly somewhere else, he stops him by reaching out for his sleeve.

“Hey, come here,” he says and tugs on his arm, until Hizashi goes with the program and stretches out on the couch with Shouta, draped over him like a blanket, his forehead just in reach for Shouta’s lips.

“What’s going on?” Shouta asks once Hizashi has gone truly boneless on top of him and instantly the tension is back in his frame.

“Who says something is?” Hizashi tries, but they have not been married for years for Shouta to be fooled by his fake ass Present Mic smile.

If anything it’s really driving it home that something is wrong, because once he’s home, Hizashi sheds Present Mic like the skin he is, so to have that smile directed at him now is setting off all kinds of alarms in Shouta’s mind.

“That right there,” Shouta mutters and pokes Hizashi’s cheek with his finger until the smile drops. “Tell me what’s going on.”

He’s no longer asking to let Hizashi know that the ruse is up and Hizashi seems to come to the same conclusion, because he buries his face in Shouta’s chest.

“It’s just—our talk a while ago. It got me thinking,” he admits, his words mumbled and barely audible and Shouta frowns.

“Our talk? The one where I was an insecure mess and wondered why you still love me?” he asks because now that it’s done and over with Shouta can damn well own up to what had driven his thoughts there.

It always makes him insecure to think Hizashi might one day stop loving him, so to hear him say that Shouta’s constancy is something he adores helped a whole lot.

“Yeah that one,” Hizashi huffs out and briefly digs his chin into Shouta’s chest, making him grunt.

“What about it? Can’t have been good thoughts,” Shouta mutters once Hizashi has settled down again and he doesn’t need to see his face to know the exact expression he’s pulling.

“Weren’t,” he simply gives back. “Aren’t, really,” he then admits and Shouta slings his arms more firmly around him.

“Tell me about them.”

“It’s just—why do you still love me?” Hizashi finally blurts out. “I’ve changed so much and I keep changing all the time, too, seeing how it comes with my fucking job to put on a goddamn persona all the time and I guess I just—I don’t understand why you still love me.”

The last part is barely audible even though they are so close and Shouta knows that this is really eating away at Hizashi.

“Because it’s you. Because despite everything, it’s still you.”

“Some days I don’t even know who I am anymore. How can you love me like that?”

“It doesn’t matter who you are in the moment,” Shouta slowly says, scrambling to bring his thoughts into an order that will make Hizashi understand, that will put his fears to rest, just like he did for him a while ago. “You could have fifteen different persona’s and I would still love you the same, because at the end of the day you’re still you. And that means you’re mine.”

Hizashi only hums at that, so Shouta goes on.

“Yamada Hizashi promised to love me until the end of our days, and I believe that, so that makes him mine.”

“But Present Mic—”

“You forget that I was the one who gave you that persona,” Shouta interrupts him, reminds him. “So that means he’s just as much mine as Yamada Hizashi is.”

“I am,” Hizashi promises him, even though Shouta knows that very well. “I just—you like things constant and never changing and here I am, always changing, always someone different and I just can’t help but to wonder—”

“You’re not,” Shouta cuts in again. “You’re not always someone different. At the core of you, you’re not. You might change the outer layers, you might bend yourself to fit whatever mould was presented to you, but your core traits are always the same.”

“So what? My core trait is loving you?” Hizashi snorts out and Shouta’s lips twitch up in a smile as well, even as he cranes his head to press a lingering kiss to Hizashi’s forehead.

“It kinda is, yeah. There are other things that always stay the same, like your need to do good, the tendency to go too hard on yourself, but. Yes. You’re mine no matter who you are, what persona you’re currently playing and I know that. So the rest doesn’t matter to me.”

“I do always love you, no matter who I am at the moment,” Hizashi says after a moment and Shouta nods.

“I know,” he simply says and feels how Hizashi goes boneless on top of him again.

“’kay,” he mumbles contentedly and Shouta can’t help himself, he just has to drop another kiss to his head.

“Love how Nemuri managed to make both of us insecure messes,” Shouta muses and relishes the way it makes Hizashi laugh out loud.

“She certainly has a gift,” he agrees, and then turns his head, so he can look at Shouta.

Shouta knows what he’s going to say, so he rushes to say it first for once.

“I love you.”

Hizashi’s face goes soft in the way that makes Shouta’s heart stumble in his chest and he doesn’t need to hear him say it, to know he does, too, but of course Hizashi is not known to be quiet.

“I love you,” he gives back, just as heartfelt and Shouta knows, down to the marrow of his bones, that Hizashi does.

No persona, no mask he puts on could ever change that and he guesses in that regard they are the same after all.

Never changing, always changing but most importantly always in love.

[roadkillremi]

SEQUEL to - Please, Don't kill me, Mr.Ghostface

Randy Meeks x Fem!Reader

Masterlist Part 2 on Masterlist

Warnings : mentions Sex, language, mentions dying, mentions Killing, Reader has hallucinations (If I miss anything let me know)

I do NOT support killing

Summary : After the 1996 Woods borrow murders, will you move on? Attending college with some old friends and making new ones. Your past stalking you at times making everything difficult.

"Can you tell me what you were thinking when he was going to kill your friends?"

The clocked ticked loudly on the wall, you fidgeted picking your nails.

"Disgusted, trapped, with myself to be exact. If I didn't say anything I'd get hurt. If I did if get hurt. There's nothing I could do about it."

She nodded scrabbling on the notebook paper.

"And it's said you stabbed Billy Loomis 17 times. Is that correct?"

"I didn't count. I just... Did it. It was either that or die."

"I know."

"I don't wanna talk about Billy." You looked out the window not being able to face her.

"Let's talk about your visions then.".

You nodded still looking out the window with a soft gaze.

"I got a call from your Aunt. She said according to the teacher you started yelling in class. Cause you saw... Them.".

You nodded, "Yes."

"They're dead they can't hurt you."

"I know. But nightmares can't die."

She sighed, "You're suffering from PTSD, it's not strange to suffer after a traumatic event. Sydney, Randy, and Gale are doing fine. Sydneys getting through it maybe you can talk to her-"

"Sydney's rich and popular. She has the ability... To be loved easily."

"You don't know Sydney's life-"

"But I know mine!" You turned to her.

"Tell me about school."

"People look at me like I'm a zombie or something. I mean since someone died the exams aren't a big deal... People think I'm a killer... Ever since Gale... Did a short read of her upcoming book..."

"Self defense is not murder."

"Yes, I know! Still hurts. The only reason I got into college is because of being a victim. I don't even know what to major in."

"Don't you like movies? Major in directing."

"that's Randy's thing. I love movies, but I don't wanna make them."

"just come up with a list and think it through. How's your sleeping been?"

You looked down at your lap, "It's hard to sleep. I have bad dreams and wake up.".

"have you tried a-"

"Routine. Yes. Sometimes Randy spends the night."

She raised her eyebrow, "Not like that!".

"Mhm." She wrote something down.

"Do you think im a killer?" You looked at her deeply. She looked up at you and didn't speak for a moment.

"I think you're an angry child with a rough past seeking the love you didn't have."

"That wasn't my question."

"No, you're not a killer."

"You hesitated."

"This isn't about me. Its about you."

Silence filled the room back up again.

"I'm scared I'll kill again."

You folded your graphic tees into a box. Music played in the background as you packed up. The last week you've been packing for college. Surprisingly Sydney asked to be roommates, you said yes.

Your room was almost empty now, you sat on your bed.

"Finally running away from here?"

Billy appeared next to you, he leaned down to see your face.

"You're not real."

"I'm real to you."

You didn't look towards him, you closed your eyes trying to focus on breathing.

"You can't shut me out!" He yelled.

"Go away, Billy!" You yelled back. Your Aunt rushed in at the sound of you yelling.

"Everything alright?"

"Yeah, just a nightmare." You stood up.

"Okay. Well Randy called, he's on his way. So get ready to pack up his car." She gave a pathetic smile and walked away. You sighed putting shoes on before taking boxes near the front door. Randy pulled up walking in the house, ever since the killing he seemed to peak. He had more muscle and wore shirts that showed it, he even grew out a small beard. He wasn't the only thing that change in the summer though.

People around you took note about how you seemed more free than usual. You got to dress in clothes without Billy saying you looked whorish. Not only that but you randy had sex, a lot. In his car, in your room, even at his work. There was of course close calls but nothing to serious. He got better at sex the more you two did it. Sometimes it was passionate and loving, others were more rough and animalistic.

"God, I'm not gonna have room for all this!" Randy exclaimed mentioning the boxes. You rolled your eyes, "It's everything, clothes, bedding, school supplies, all of it.".

Randy grabbed a box letting out a small huff. You patted his back, "you got this.".

"You better help that boy!" Your Aunt yelled out.

"Yeah!" Randy mocked smiling. You grabbed a box following him to the car. The trunk had all of Randy's bags stuffed into there. He placed the boxes in the back seat. You huffed back and forth between the car and the house.

"That's all of them!" You yelled out to Randy. He slammed the car door shut, "Thank God!" He cried over dramatically.

Your Aunt hugged you tightly sniffling, "Call when you can. Stay safe.".

"I will, I love you." You hugged her back tightly.

Months later

You banged on Randy's door, "Randy Meeks! Get your ass up!". He got drunk with his roommate, Paul last night. He called you slurring his words telling you how much he loves you. He opened the door, "Sorry, I was getting dress!".

"You look like shit." You laughed. His hair a bit messy and bags under his eyes.

"You look amazing too, darling" he said in a British accent.

You walked to class with him holding his hand. Some girls snickered at you as you passed them. Randy glanced at them, "What's their problem?".

"Don't worry about it. You know how some women are, don't grow out of the popularity in high school." You sighed.

"Pfft, yeah tell me about it." He said leaning close to your ear. His hot breath tickling the side of your face.

A frisbee passed by in front of you two, "Couldn't have caught it?! Dick.." some guy said running after it.

"See?" Randy gestured. You rolled your eyes, "Come on Mr.Meeks we have a film class to get to!".

"You know how I get when you call me that." He joked. You jokingly gave him a look, "You'll just have to rub it out in the bathroom.". He smiled hugging you from behind picking you up a bit.

"Or I could fuck you when Paul's gone"

You laughed tapping his arm to let you go. "Poor Paul needs a break from us pounding like dogs in there." You said walking into the building. Randy caught up with you, "Well this dogs ready to pounce.". He sprayed mouth spray in his mouth winking at you.

[sunoorintarou]

Catharsis: Wasting Borrowed Time

Phos!Reader x (Platonic?) Megumi Fushiguro

Warnings: very heavy, very angsty, mentions Yukio's death, self blaming, self hatred, self harm, guilt, physical and mental illness, eating disorders, injuries and blood, suicidal ideation, depression, trauma, it's just alot, and the usual Catharsis tags

Notes: I want to say the next part will be fluffy but 😬

"Y/n? Have you been eating alright?" Megumi's voice was low and full of concern, travelling across the yard to reach you. His tone was even and polite, but he was thankful you couldn't see the desperation and concern on his face.

It was late at night. You were on the field, barely illuminated by the moonlight, while Megumi stood under the light of the corridor.

There were at least 5 feet between you, your back turned as you held your sword in your hand, body weak from training as you tried to hide its trembling.

"Yeah, why?" You answered, voice as calm as you could make it. You were glad he couldn't see the pained expression on your face, muscles screaming for mercy, the burn in your limbs making you want to cry out.

"Just making sure, that's all."

Everything went silent.

Recently, a distance had appeared between you and Megumi. A physical and emotional distance. A distance whose gap you weren't willing to close.

Megumi rarely saw you anymore. You were either always training or taking on missions alone. Rarely in class, disappearing for days at a time. And although he wasn't the only one who noticed, he was the only one who was truly concerned.

The others thought that with time, you'd be fine, yet Megumi knew you better than he knew himself, and the dullness in your eyes had him on edge.

"Would you... are... are you OK?" Megumi's voice was soft and full of concern. Your heart wrenched, eyes glazing over.

"It's been a while since you've eaten lunch with me. I'm just surprised. The vending machines have a surplus of banana milk now." Megumi joked, half - heartedly. Although he would never admit it, Megumi missed you more than anyone.

"That's concerning. Are you, by any chance, feeling unwell, or is something on your mind? We don't have classes tomorrow, so..." Megumi mentally punched himself. Why was he being so... awkward?

All he wanted to do was comfort you, rush to you, and hold you in his arms like you had done so easily to him. Why was it so hard for him to do the same? All he had to do was tell you that he was worried and that he had noticed that you seemed... duller. That he swore he could physically see the life draining out of your face bit by bit whenever he saw you.

Megumi was worried sick. Even now, his hands were trembling as he cursed himself. Why couldn't he just do something? Anything?

Why could he never tell the people around him how much they meant to him?

Why was he never able to tell them before it was too late?

Why was it always the kind people, the good people. Megumi wasn't a good person as much as he tried to be.

But you, you were the definition of a decent human being. More than decent. You were more human than he'd ever be, so why was this happening to you?

It felt like the past was repeating itself to Megumi, and just like with Tsumiki, he could do nothing but watch you suffer in silence. God, what was wrong with him, why was he so pathetic and-

"Actually-" you began, voice betraying you before you could stop it. Lying to Megumi made you feel sick. Sicker than you already felt.

You inhaled sharply, the air hanging thickly around you. Unspoken words lingering on the tip of your tongue. What were you doing? What would you even say?

Tell him you felt guilty for what had happened? Tell him that without you, Yukio would still be alive? Tell him how you've pushed yourself to the bone and beyond, hurting yourself far more than anyone else could. Tell him how sick you felt, sick to your core, how you couldn't eat because of the guilt, how you couldn't sleep because every time you tried, you saw that God awful night play like a record beyond your eyelids?

Your eyes flickered to the bandages that peaked through the sleeves of your hoodie. Injuries so bad even the alloy in your veins couldn't fix them. Should you tell him how you got them? How you've been rushing into missions not only to get revenge, but in hopes something unspeakable would happen to you so that you'd be able to atone for your sins? Perhaps even be able to see Yukio again?

Should you tell him how many times you've almost died?

Tell him the reason you decided to hand wash your sheets so often is because they're soaked with your blood? Tell him the reason you're always locked away in your room is because you're fighting away fevers and illnesses that come from your great injuries that you've learned to patch up yourself?

Tell him that every time you're close to death, you cry like a coward because you don't want to die alone, because you don't want to die at all, but you don't know how else to make peace with what you've done.

You're too far gone, and you've done this to yourself. Megumi deserves better than this.

Megumi deserves better than you.

"Actually- I'm perfectly fine, don't worry about me, Megumi, worry about yourself." You say, forcing normality into your voice even as the tears sting your eyes.

Megumi opens his mouth as if he wants to say something, but he hesitates. And his hesitation is what pushes you further away.

"Goodnight, Megumi, sweet dreams." You said, voice soft and raw, and before Megumi could stop you, you disappeared into the shadows leaving Megumi all alone in the light.

[eiloveir]

characters: uchiha brothers, haruno sakura

warnings: this is poorly done (it was rushed) and includes mentions of death, illness, and similar topics.

a/n: as mentioned, this was hastily completed and lacks emotional depth. it’s also a modern au. I was inspired while listening to music and intend to compile a masterlist using song prompts I’ve come across.

The lights’ sharp glare peaked through the eerie silence, intensifying the almost oppressive atmosphere in the hospital room. A faint buzzing from healthcare devices became an ominous signal of the volatile state in which life exists and at some point ends. Sasuke battled the omnipresent fear that threatened to consume him, standing motionless in front of the door with his hand shaking violently.

Sakura’s heart broke to see her husband struggling, and watched him with a worried expression on her face. She was aware that Sasuke’s emotion-filled stoicism was collapsing beneath it, and she hoped she could take on some of his suffering.

“Sasuke, do you-”

Sakura couldn’t say anything when Sasuke suddenly shoved open the door. His face was unreadable and austere—scarcely masking what he was fighting inside. He, then, met his brother’s eyes which had once been lively and alive but had since darkened due to disease and the thought of death’s nearness.

The truth of their situation was beginning to consume Sasuke’s being, and he could no longer stand to stare at him any longer. He stood there, struggling with the pain churning in the pit of his stomach, and the room felt smaller, more repressive.

Despite the despair, Sakura forced a modest smile and idly expressed her support by holding onto her husband’s arm. She had taken care of Itachi as a patient and directly seeing the effects of his condition. She was very sad for the man who had only become her brother-in-law. A beloved member of their family that was disappearing right before their eyes.

With his poise slipping in the face of reality, Sasuke made his way to sit next to his brother’s bed. “Why didn’t you tell us sooner?” Sasuke’s words were tinted with left out distress, and his voice was raspy. “We could have done something. Anything…”

Itachi listened quietly, comprehension could be seen in his eyes. He knew all too well that even if he said anything, his illness would still take its toll. His eyes softened as he expressed gratitude. “Sasuke... Sakura, I am content with the future and didn’t want to burden you with this.”

Sakura gave him a tearful frown. She felt exactly the same as Sasuke did—after all, he was her patient and brother-in-law. She wept alongside her husband as she watched him go to pieces. She was frightened of losing Itachi as well. She was aware that he wouldn’t last much longer because of the telltale indicators, which included his frailty, weariness, and need for sleep. All indicators indicate lung cancer in its late stage. Hope was completely lost.

“It wouldn’t have ended up like this,” Sasuke’s voice trembled, tears welling in his eyes as he reached out to grasp Itachi’s hand. “Aren’t you afraid?”

With a soft laugh that rang throughout the room, Itachi was able to chuckle somewhat. Speaking in a scarcely audible voice, he reassured Sasuke, “I’m not... afraid.” For a minute, in the midst of the storm, he closed his eyes and felt calm. “However, tell me, was I a good brother to you?”

“More than words can say.” Sasuke’s breath froze in his throat as memories of their brotherhood rushed through his mind.

“That makes me feel better about leaving this world then...” Itachi whispered, causing Sasuke to sob and clutch his hand hard before placing his head on the side of his death bed. “It pains me deeply to witness you like this as I am on the verge of leaving.” Itachi said. His brother’s outbursts made him sincerely miserable. But what is he capable of doing? He felt so weak that he couldn’t say a word without hurting his throat.

“The one thing I will regret is not being able to see my niece.” Itachi sighed, stealing a glance at the married couple.

Tears streamed down Sakura’s face as she turned her gaze away from the scene. An agony she could hardly stand throbbed in her heart. She thought back to the time she had told Itachi that she was pregnant with his brother’s child.

“I’m pleased Sakura informed me,” Itachi muttered. “I was very happy to hear it. I thought I could finally fulfill my dream of becoming an uncle. But I guess, it wasn’t destined to happen.”

“You will make it home.” Sasuke said with an assured tone and he glanced at his wife to get her approval. Sakura met his mournful gaze with a sidelong glance that made his heartbreak even more intense.

“I’ve come to terms with it,” Itachi said, letting out a quick exhale and closing his eyes. With his last strength weighing on every syllable, he added, “There’s something I’d like to ask,” his voice was above a whisper. Sasuke and Sakura drew closer to listen intently to everything he had to say.

“Your child,” he said, his gaze moving between them, “I believe... she will be a girl.” His voice trembled, a hope running through his words. Itachi’s eyes softened as he spoke about a future he knew he would not be a part of.

Sasuke looked at Sakura, and she nodded.

“In that case,” Itachi said, his voice practically a whisper, “may I... name her?”

The couple glanced at him, and in response, Sakura tapped his husband’s shoulder to signal her approval of his brother’s request. “Yes, Itachi. You can name her.”

“Sarada... That name.” Itachi managed to mumble, his voice strained and barely audible over the beeping of the medical devices.

Following with the response, Itachi’s body shook from the strain of speaking, his power growing less by the second. Deep lines of pain carved his face, his features twisted in silent suffering as he struggled to free himself from the crippling hold of his disease.

With tears running down his face, Sasuke feels like his heart has been squeezed as he held Itachi’s waning hand. “Itachi,” his voice cracking with grief. “Hold on, please...”

His brother’s strength fluctuated as his body trembled—he let out a strained breath. His face, pale and drawn with pain, his eyelids drifting closed. Itachi mustered his final strength in that moment as he whispered, “We’ll meet again.”

It felt as though the entire room had stopped breathing at that time. The cardiac monitor’s consistent beeping, which is opposed to the sudden drone that shattered the silence—the noise rippled throughout the room, pulling Sasuke and Sakura out of their slumber. It was a very unsettling goodbye note, an ugly reminder of how short life is and that Itachi’s soul would eventually pass on to the hereafter.

[ur-frndly-neighborhood-memer1]

WHAT WOULD URSA DO IF AZULON ORDERED AZULA'S DEATH INSTEAD?

In "Zuko Alone" we learn that Zuko's mother Ursa was disappeared one night and we never learn what happened to her...

...until "The Search" comics was published. In "The Search", we find out that Ursa made a deal with Ozai to spare Zuko's life.

When Ozai claimed Iroh's birthright after Lu Ten's death, Fire Lord Azulon got mad and told Ozai that Iroh has suffered enough already, but Ozai's suffering has just begun. And then he orders him to kill Zuko to understand Iroh's situation. And as Ozai already admitted in "The Day of Blacksun" part 2, he was really going to kill Zuko.

But before he could commit anything, Ursa learned the whole story from Azula and came up with a plan to save Zuko's life.

But...

How would things be different if Azulon ordered Azula's death instead?

We know for a fact that Ozai always despised his son, and wouldn't have an issue with killing him.

But Ozai definitely favored Azula and wanted her as his heir. And we can safely say that if Ozai ever cared about anyone, it is Azula.

So he wouldn't want to kill his ideal heir and prodigious child. He would object to Azulon, but of course, it wouldn't matter...

And let's not forget, Azula was there the whole time and secretly listening to them. I don't think she would take it well when her grandfather ordered her death and her father would have to do it.

So Azula probably go to her mother and tell her the whole thing.

Ursa would stand there in silence for a minute, then would calmly say:

THANK FUCK I'M FINALLY GETTING RID OFF YOU, YOU LITTLE SHIT!

Because Ursa was a horrible mother, she was toxic and abusive, and she wouldn't give a damn about a Azula!

.

.

.

Well, not really...

First of all, Ursa definitely loved Azula. Yes, she was a bit neglectful towards her but it wasn't because she didn't care about her daughter (and she definitely did)

Ozai already favored Azula over Zuko, and he was pretty harsh and cruel towards his son. That's why Ursa had to put an extra effort to make her son feel loved, in order to fulfill her husband's lack of parenting.

But while she was trying so hard to make up for Ozai's abusive treatment, she neglected Azula without knowing it. This is why Azula said her mother loved Zuko more than her.

"I could sit here and complain how my mother loved Zuko more than me but I don't really care"

Pay attention, in "The Beach" Azula didn't say "My mother didn't love me", but she said "My mother loved Zuko more than me".

Azula isn't ignoring the fact that her mother indeed loved her. But the issue was simply her mother's favoritism towards Zuko.

And when Azula grabs and threatens Ursa in "The Search", Ursa only replies like this:

"I'm sorry I didn't love you enough"

"Enough" is the key word here, it's even stated in the comics as well.

Because Ursa indeed loves her daughter, but she realized she didn't love her enough.

As I said, she was a bit neglectful towards her. But she was also reacting angrily whenever Azula misbehaved.

Like, when she asked if Iroh doesn't return, would that make her dad next in line. You can see here that Ursa replied coldly.

Or when Azula said Azulon was probably going to die soon, Ursa angrily silenced her.

Of course it's understandable why Ursa got angry over Azula's constant mischief and bullying.

But I'd dare to say her "anger" had more concern in it than actual rage.

When Ursa questioned what was wrong with her daughter, she didn't say it in an angry or disgusted tone like, "UGH, WHY IS THAT CHILD LIKE THAT? I CAN'T BARE HER!" But instead, her voice was calm and you can hear the concern in it.

So that "What is wrong with that child?" question isn't about being disgusted of Azula, but simply about wondering why she was acting this way.

We've seen that Azula was burning flowers, hurting turtleducks, bullying her brother and playing cruel pranks at her friends at such a young age. These are serious red flags for a child's state of mind. But what's even more concerning is how Azula reacts to her cousin's and grandfather's death, and she also wished Iroh to die.

No wonder why Ursa was so worried about Azula's mental well being.

But still, Azula's misbehaviors doesn't change the fact that Ursa's love for her is unconditional.

And if Azulon ordered Azula's death, Ursa would do the exact same things which she did for Zuko.

So at the end, it wouldn't really change the story. Ursa would kiss goodbye Azula and Zuko, and then would leave.

However, even when she was a kid, Azula was smart enough to figure out why her mother was banished. And therefore she would understand she did something to save her life. So in this scenario, Azula would truly understand that her mother loved her just as much as Zuko. And at the end, the memories of Ursa couldn't come back to haunt her.

[gamergirlbonestaskforce141riot]

Chapter 9 Part 2: Ne cede malis

Triggers: none important, fluff at the end

Previous / Masterlist / Next

They drove mostly in silence, with Ghost swerving left and right to avoid a fallen tree here, a bigger rock there, and correcting their path when she indicated a change of direction.

‘‘It was on purpose’’ Riot muttered, her eyes on their surroundings but not really seeing anything, lost in thought. Ghost looked at her briefly from the corner of his eye. She still had the balaclava pulled down to her neck.

‘‘What was on purpose?’’

‘‘Sending us to that building. We weren’t exactly Rico’s favourites’’ She continued, more for herself than for him. ‘‘God knows we didn’t see eye to eye in anything. I was sceptic when he sent us there, I should have trusted my gut’’

‘‘He gave you orders, what could you have done?’’ Soap’s voice came out of the comm, surprising them both.

‘‘Why are you on the feed, Soap?’’

‘‘Everyone else is either resting, checking things or arguing. I volunteered to keep an eye and an ear on my bestest friends in the whole world’’ The Scotman’s voice was as cheery as ever, they could almost imagine his big grin, and against her will, Riot smiled.

‘‘What would we do without you, Johnny…’’

‘‘Don’t tell him that, his head is big enough as it is’’

‘‘That hurts my feelings, Lt!’’

‘‘Cry me a river, MacTavish’’ Ghost smirked under his mask, listening to Soap’s curses in Scottish. ‘‘But he’s right, Riot. You were given orders’’

‘‘I could have entered alone’’ She answered, looking at the trees again. Her left hand rose slowly until it started rubbing the scar. Maybe that was why it was so red and raw, from her rubbing it when riddled with anxiety. Maybe that was also why she used the mask, to avoid rubbing at it in public. ‘‘There was something wrong in that op, and I knew from the start. I should…’’

‘‘Haud yer wheesht!’’ Soap huffed. ‘‘Shut up with that! Not your effing fault! It was theirs!’’

‘‘Listen to him’’ Ghost said, low, his eyes still on the path they were taking and trying to keep the jeep steady enough in the rough terrain of the forest. Riot sighed, lowering her eyes to her lap, where she was holding both the tablet and her helmet, which still had traces of blood on the shell.

‘‘They dropped a missile on us as if we were nothing. Erased us from existence’’ She snorted sadly. ‘‘They filed us as MIA right away, Laswell had to dig to overturn my file and declare me as still alive. Late to recover my shit though’’

‘‘What do you mean?’’

‘‘Rico had our lockers and rooms cleared out the following day, for what Laswell told me. Sent trinkets to my squad’s families and sold the rest or whatever’’ She sighed, deeply, her eyes glaring at the blood on her helmet. ‘‘My motorbike needed fixing and was at the garage, that’s why I still have it, that and the things I had stored in a Big Yellow storage unit. What was in my room and locker is gone. Clothes, books, CDs, my guitar…’’

Ghost said nothing at that. He had read her file instigated by Price, because as a Lieutenant, it was his duty to know about his soldiers, and thus he knew that Riot’s parents were dead, she had no siblings or other relatives, and had listed no next of kin to notify in case of her demise. She was to be cremated if her body could be retrieved, and her ashes given to the sea.

If she died, it would be as if she had never existed.

‘‘Fooking bastards, the lot of them’’ Soap sighed in the comm. ‘‘Mum told ya to put her down as your next of kin, Chris. Yer family’’

‘‘I like your mother too much to make her suffer twice, Johnny’’

‘‘Yeah, well, she’d say… oh, Cap’s here’’ There was a moment of silence until Price started speaking. ‘‘How long until you get to exfil?’’

‘‘About fifty minutes at this speed, sir’’ Riot informed after checking the tablet.

‘‘Heli is on the way already, Gaz is coordinating with the pilot’’ Price’s voice sounded tired. ‘‘How are you two holding up?’’

‘‘Fine’’ Ghost grunted, swerving around a bigger pile of rocks and a fallen tree, following Riot’s hand signals when she corrected their path using the tablet’s route. ‘‘No need for stims yet’’

‘‘I’d kill for a coffee’’ She sighed, and looked at Ghost, rising an eyebrow. ‘‘Is coffee still on once we arrive?’’

Ghost nodded with a low hmph, but she saw the corner of his eye narrowing, and she hoped that was the shadow of a smile.

‘‘What about you, Vega?’’

‘‘Well, apart from learning that I now lose my marbles when hearing an explosion, and that I was knowingly left to die under a demolished building… I’m fine, given the circumstances’’

‘‘Time to visit Dr. Green again and work it in therapy, kid’’

‘‘Don’t worry, I had an appointment with your wife in a couple of days anyway’’

Silence from the comm. Ghost chuckled under his mask, shaking his head.

‘‘Ok, who let it slip’’ Price grunted. It wasn’t exactly the best kept secret in base that he was married to the psychologist, but practically no one below his rank knew, apart from Ghost, Soap and Gaz.

‘‘She did, sir’’ Riot said in a perfectly innocent tone. ‘‘Dr. Heather told me once about her husband’s ‘magnificent muttonchops’, and who else in base has such splendid, glorious, fine muttonchops other than our dearest Captain?’’

‘‘Wha… WHAT’’ Price stammered, dumbfounded. There was also the sound of wheezing coming from the comm, no doubt from Soap losing his shit. Even Ghost was trying not to snort.

‘‘He’s fucking red as a tomato!’’

‘‘MacTavish, I swear to God…!’’

Riot giggled, with the same low, almost innocent giggle from the hill, looking at Ghost briefly with a bubbly, sweet smile that curved her lips sincerely and made her whole face and eyes lit up. He almost swerved into a tree, but managed to keep his hands firm on the steering wheel, looking at her from the corner of his eyes.

‘‘Get to fucking exfil asap’’

‘‘Roger’’ Ghost huffed, trying to hide a low chuckle at the flustered tone on Price’s voice. He could imagine Soap’s giggling, flustering the Captain even more.

‘‘Was it something I said?’’ Riot giggled again, trying to keep her innocent tone.

‘‘You’re a fucking menace’’ He muttered, hoping his fond tone would be muffled enough by the mask.

‘‘And you like it’’ She smiled sweetly, humming while checking the tablet, the comfortable silence falling over them again as they continued to the exfil point.

-

When they got there, the helicopter hadn’t arrived yet and they couldn’t even hear it. Ghost parked the jeep close to the river bank, and both got off the vehicle and recovered their backpacks.

‘‘We have to strap this fucker in and push it in the river’’ Riot grunted, pulling from Floyd’s arms and trying to drag him to the driver’s seat. Ghost allowed her to manhandle the corpse as she pleased, focused on checking their surroundings and waiting until she had the dead officer more or less secured into the seat.

Between both of them they managed to push the vehicle into the river, where it sank fairly quick, leaving only bubbles behind that slowly faded into nothing.

‘‘Base, we’re at exfil, chopper is no-show’’ Ghost grunted into the comm.

‘‘The bird is on the way, stand by’’ Gaz’s voice informed. ‘‘Price is ordering the plane to be ready, he wants us to leave as soon as you get here. Get off the chopper and board the plane’’

‘‘Copy’’

‘‘Ugh, into the plane without changing or having a shower… how nice’’ Riot sighed, rubbing again at her scar.

‘‘We can do that when we arrive’’ Ghost rolled his shoulders and then his neck, just as tired as she was. ‘‘Before or after that coffee’’

‘‘Coffee’’ She sighed dreamily, her fingers still rubbing and massaging the mangled flesh, and he just couldn’t stop himself before his hand grabbed hers to force it to stop. She looked up at him, surprised, but he just shrugged and released her hand.

‘‘Stop rubbing it’’

‘‘Why? It will get worse?’’ She snorted, looking away. ‘‘It already is. It won’t get better. It’s fucking hideous. I’m…’’

‘‘Don’t’’

Riot turned her eyes to him again, shocked at his tone, and even more shocked when she saw him yank off his glove and then cup her cheek with his hand, covering the scar with his warm, almost burning palm. His thumb gently brushed her chin, forcing her to tilt her head up so his eyes were directly on hers.

She parted her lips to say something, her hand going up to circle his wrist with her fingers and feel his pulse, and it that moment they heard the sound of the helicopter approaching from the other side of the river, appearing on the horizon over the woods.

Ghost released her face, and grabbed his backpack to move out of the way, pulling his glove on again. After a second, she did the same, remembering her balaclava and putting it back in place, covering her mouth and nose.

‘‘Hi, Stork’’ Riot whispered when the helicopter was close enough to distinguish its colours, and both waited for it to be low enough to duck and run towards it. Ghost threw his backpack inside and got in, pulling from her hand to help her. When both where secured in their seats the chopper started to soar again.

‘‘Welcome back, babies, how was the trip?’’

‘‘It went fine’’ Riot said plainly, leaning her head with relief against the wall and closing her eyes. ‘‘Did you have any problems going back and getting here?’’

‘‘Nothing to report, sweetie. There’s water and some energy bars if you two are hungry. I’ve been told to inform you that when we land in Latvia you have to board the plane right away’’

‘‘Thank you’’ She sighed and started rummaging in the box to grab a bottle of water, offering another to Ghost. He nodded and lifted his balaclava over his nose to drink a long swig.

They made their way back in silence, chewing half-heartedly on an energy bar, their knees brushing whenever one of them moved to adjust in their seat.

Ghost could still feel the softness of her skin in his palm. He found himself opening and closing his hand, his eyes darting to her smaller form from time to time, thankful for the mask and the grease and the penumbra in the helicopter cargo cabin. Maybe she wouldn’t notice. Maybe he wanted her to notice. He wasn’t even sure of what he was fucking doing anymore.

Her. Fucking hell, he wanted her. She made him want things. She made him want, and he wasn’t sure how to deal with it yet. Her soft skin in his hand, he could have sworn there had been a tiny touch of pink on her cheekbones. And her eyes. Damned if he knew what was behind those blue eyes to make him crave it so much. He wondered what would have happened if the chopper had arrived later. Would he have kissed her? Leant in to capture those rosy lips with his and stop her from continuing degrading herself needlessly. Would she have kissed him back or would she have pushed him away?

Riot could still feel the warmth of his palm on her cheek, soothing the neverending dull ache of her scar. She found herself thinking about it over and over again, her eyes darting to his massive frame from time to time, thankful for the penumbra in the cargo cabin. Maybe he wouldn’t notice her glancing at him and looking away like a lovesick teenager. Maybe she was hoping he would. She wasn’t even sure of what she was hoping for anymore.

Him. She just wanted him. He made her think she wasn’t broken, or damaged goods. He had heard her say out loud she had been used, and he still had touched her afterwards. He made her want him, he made her feel safe, and she didn’t know how to deal with those feelings. She had asked him to not stop, and he had complied, even after seeing her face, after hearing what she had gone through, after seeing her murder a man in cold blood.

She felt the heat in her face, remembering his body behind her, his arm around her, his voice in her ear encouraging her while they both strangled Floyd to death. How sick was she that the mere thought made her thighs quiver and her heart skip a beat. The things she’d do to hear his voice. The things she’d do to see his eyes on her. The things she’d do for him, and to him.

If only the damned helicopter had arrived later.

‘‘ETA Ten minutes, babies’’

‘‘Copy’’ Ghost grunted, rolling his neck and sitting up in his seat, which was definitely too small for him.

‘‘Gracias’’ Riot muttered tiredly, rubbing her eyes.

‘‘Sleepy?’’ He muttered back, his voice rumbling low, just as tired as her now that the adrenalin and the tension of the mission was wearing off.

‘‘Yeah… I won’t be able to sleep on the plane though… Can’t sleep on things that move’’

‘‘If you’re tired enough, you will’’ Ghost shook his head, the hint of a chuckle in the air. ‘‘You just have to fall asleep before Soap’’

‘‘Tough mission, that one’’ She laughed, her shoulders shaking lightly.

The UN base was already on sight. It didn’t took long until the helicopter landed and they could get off to see the plane in which they had arrived the previous day in the neighbouring runway. Price, Gaz and Soap were waiting for them on the tarmac, right by the boarding stairs. Before going to them, Riot turned and patted the helicopter’s open door.

‘‘Thank you, Stork’’ She whispered, patting the metal one last time before grabbing her backpack and walking towards the plane. Ghost fell back for a second, grabbing his and making sure nothing was left in the cabin, and then, softly, hit the door with his fist twice before following her.

The first one to greet them was Gaz, who patted both their shoulders with a smile before continuing on towards the helicopter to speak with Rojas.

When they both tiredly dragged themselves closer Soap was already there, arms open wide and his signature grin on his lips, sincerely happy to see their friends back. Everyone should have someone like Johnny, Riot thought, right before dropping her backpack, lowering her balaclava and melting into her friend’s arms, who closed around her, holding her tight.

‘‘Johnny, can’t breathe’’ She laughed, burying her face against his neck and clinging to him. In response, Soap tightened his embrace, swaying a bit while humming loudly, making her laugh louder. Ghost patted his shoulder fondly when he got to them.

‘‘I have space for one more, Lt!’’ Soap extended one arm towards him, his grin widening. Riot giggled seeing Ghost step back.

‘‘No way in hell, MacTavish’’

‘‘Awww, you’re no fun’’ Soap exhaled a full on belly-laugh, lifting Riot from the ground and twirling with her. ‘‘At least one of my friends loves me’’

‘‘Set me down, you bloody moron!’’ Despite her words, she kept laughing.

‘‘Get in the plane, muppet’’ Price was smiling indulgently, arms crossed. ‘‘I want to speak with these two catastrophes before we leave. That’ll give Gaz enough time to do whatever the fuck he’s doing’’

Ghost looked back at the chopper, next to which Gaz and Rojas were chatting lively, and then looked back again at Price, waiting. Soap released Riot from his grip and went up the boarding stairs carrying both their backpacks, and she moved to stand beside Ghost in front of the Captain.

‘‘To say Kate is not happy would be an understatement’’ Price sighed, eyeing them both up and down. ‘‘I couldn’t care less about that sleazy bastard, but I hope the voice recorder and the phone you got from him will have enough worthy intel to make up for it’’

‘‘We also have the tablet, his wallet, his tags, and a full set of cards and different IDs he seemed to have used’’ Riot said, back to the soft, calm tone she usually had. ‘‘It’s all in my backpack, sir’’

‘‘Hmph’’Price nodded, and then, finally, patted their arms briefly. ‘‘Good job. Now board. Go freshen up in the toilet or something to make yourselves comfortable, I bet you’re fucking sore and eager to get all that off’’

Riot nodded and started going up the stairs, but Price stopped Ghost before he could follow her.

‘‘I want your honest opinion’’ The Captain muttered, and when the other man nodded, continued speaking. ‘‘About her. In the field’’

‘‘She’s good’’ Ghost said, looking up at her until she disappeared inside the plane, and then down at Price. ‘‘Damned good, actually. Stealthy, ruthless, resolute and relentless’’

‘‘So she is a good fit for Task Force 141’’ Price nodded, looking satisfied with Ghost’s answer. ‘‘Good to know, I like her’’

Ghost said nothing at that. Of the whole team, Price was who he trusted the most with his thoughts, the only one who knew him fully, who knew him before. And still… he couldn’t. Not yet. Tilting his head at Price, he started his way up the stairs to board the plane.

Price stared at him until the massive frame of his Lieutenant disappared inside, and then checked his mobile phone to send a text to his wife, warning her that they were going back home. After a moment, he sent a second one.

You were right we need a bigger dinner table, sweetheart. We have another kid.

-

It took Gaz another ten minutes before Price just hollered at him to hurry the fuck up, and by then, both Riot and Ghost had gone to the plane toilets to freshen themselves and get rid of their bulkiest gear.

Riot walked to the back of the plane as she had done on the way to Latvia, sighing when she saw Soap already lying down half asleep. When she got to the line with seats facing each other Ghost was already sitting there on the window seat, his legs stretched out in front of him on the opposite seat. He had got rid of the full skull mask to keep the simple black balaclava, a clean one it seemed, and he looked almost… peaceful, with his eyes closed.

She thought he was sleeping, and turned around to leave when a strong hand gripped her belt and loop of her cargo pants and pulled her back, making her fall ungracefully on the seat next to Ghost’s.

‘‘Sleep’’ He grunted, dragging her closer and wrapping an arm around her. Riot blinked, dumbfounded. This surely wasn’t happening.

‘‘Gh-… Simon…’’ She started, but changed her mind and decided to go along with it. She wiggled her way into the seat, moving around until she found the most comfortable position, with her back against his side, her legs stretched out and resting on the seat on the other side of the aisle, and her head resting on his shoulder and biceps while his arm was wrapped around her, keeping her in place against him.

Ghost waited patiently for her to settle, tutting from time to time when she was restless and decided to change positions, but when she finally stopped, his grip tightened around her.

‘‘Go to sleep, Johnny’s not snoring yet’’ He mumbled, trying to relax in the seat too small for him.

‘‘You’re not disgusted by today?’’ She whispered suddenly, and he sighed, turning his head until he rested it on hers, feeling the scent of her soft hair even through the balaclava.

‘‘One day, lovie, when we’re ready, I’ll tell you a story’’ He whispered back, and she could swear she could feel the rumble in his chest against her back, shaking her to her very core.

‘‘What if one of us is ready and the other isn’t?’’ She whispered softly, snuggling into him and feeling comforted by the weight of his arm around her. For a moment, she wished he had chosen the other side of the aisle. That way maybe she’d be able to listen to his heartbeat.

‘‘Then we wait for the other’’ He muttered, half asleep by then, lulled by the sound of her breathing and the scent of her hair.

‘‘Deal…’’ She hummed, brushing her cheek against his shoulder when she nodded right before drifting off into sleep.

[maximaxstreasurebox]

BSD Untold Origins: Anime VS Novel (5)

One of the most important parts of Ranpo's character development....... oh boy- This whole post is just writing down the next *checks book* 10 PAGES literally, and I'm not intent to skip anything. Get your popcorn everyone! Put the text in text-to-speech if must lol- The reason I'm about to make my hands suffer from typing bcuz the whole scene hits very differently with Fukuzawa's internal dialogues added on top of Ranpo's world view. I'm sorry it's not really an 'analysis', I just really want to share the reading experience(??) :')

Pages; from 123 to 133 Word count: 2906

Season 4 and light novel spoilers! (literally)

Gifs © @the-chikyuu-times

Episode 1 (Part 1) - (Part 2) - (Part 3)

Episode 2 (Part 4) - (Part 6 soon)

They walked over to a few square seats in the lobby away from the crowd. Ranpo was sitting, albeit sulking, while Fukuzawa was standing right in front of him. Ranpo was fidgeting with his sleeves, so upset he couldn't sit still. Fukuzawa watched him without saying a word. Before long, five minutes of unchanging silence had passed.

"Okay," muttered Ranpo as if he couldn't take the silence any longer. "Get it over with. Give me your lecture. I've been chewed out like this by tons of people at my past jobs, so I know it's coming. I know what you're going to say, too." "You're surprisingly self-aware," noted Fukuzawa, his voice low. "I'm gonna be scolded because I did something wrong, right? If so, then it'd actually make me feel a little better. It's an easy concept to grasp." "...You're right."

Fukuzawa pondered. He wasn't a person who could teach something to this kid. He had always avoided giving guidance to others his entire life. This was the first time he ever regretted that. Fukuzawa had to tell him something. This teenager was at the edge of the cliff, leaning forward. "Tell me about your parents." Fukuzawa made sure to select his words wisely. "Did they say anything about your gift?" "My 'gift'?" Ranpo furrowed his brow. "I wouldn't be having trouble finding a job right now if I had a gift." "Then... Did they say anything to you about your future?" "Uh... My father always said, 'One day, you're going to surpass your mother and me, and you're going to win the admiration of all those around you. But now's not that time. Stay humble and keep your silence. Always be modest. Just quietly observe and don't hurt others with what you discover.' ...Or something like that. I don't really know what he meant, though."

I figured. Fukuzawa quietly nodded. So his father knew, after all. He understood that Ranpo possessed an extraordinary gift. He knew his son had the special ability to observe, remember, and uncover the truth in the blink of an eye. That was why he sealed it away. He didn't want Ranpo to go astray, to ever hurt others and make the world his enemy. His father wanted Ranpo to learn virtue and what's right just like an ordinary person until he had grown up with good judgment and knowledge. He was protecting him, creating a transparent cocoon to protect his extraordinary gift from this strange world. Ranpo's parents raised him like an ordinary child. What an astounding deed that must have been. How difficult it must have been to convince him that the world he saw was normal and nothing he knew was anything other than common sense. But Ranpo's parents did that with their extraordinary minds. What was such a feat, of not extraordinary love? But long before Ranpo had fully matured - far before Ranpo was ready for the world - they departed this life. An immature yet gifted larva was stripped of his cocoon and abandoned.

(im sorry to interrupt but did he just compared Ranpo to an insect? xD)

The palm of Fukuzawa's clenched fists began to sweat. No matter how strong his opponent was, he never experienced fear like this. The larva was without shelter. He was only moments away from being crushed by the outside world. If Fukuzawa didn't use just the right amount of force, then the damage would be irreparable. While hesitant, Fukuzawa finally spoke up. "You... have a gift. A gift to observe and deduce. Nobody has ever figured out my last job. Nobody knew who really killed the president of that company other than you. You're special, Ranpo, and if you so desire, you will become a greater mind than even your parents." "As if." Ranpo immediately shot down the claim. "My parents were amazing. There's no surpassing them to reach the top because they were the top. Neither of them ever told me once that I had a gift, and I believe them." He was stubborn. The protective wall his parents created was thick. That wall protected Ranpo from the world of ordinary people who would fear and fail to understand him, yes, but it was also what rendered him unable to step into the outside world.

"During the play, you were able to guess who the killer was," Fukuzawa continued. "And at that point in the performance, you were probably the only one in the audience who had. I myself didn't know until I finished the script." "Huh?" Ranpo gave a distinctly inquiring look. "Don't lie to me. If I figured it out, surely an adult would have no problem." This discussion was going in circles. He didn't understand others because he didn't think he was special. He didn't think he was special because he didn't understand others, which only confirmed what his parents had told him. It was unyielding logic that fed off each other, and the only way to break through was to shine light on something completely new. Something different. A new factor that Ranpo hadn't even thought of.

"Tell me this." Fukuzawa persevered. "Have you ever thought the people around you were stupid? That they were a bunch of fools who didn't understand a thing?" "..." Ranpo sent Fukuzawa a skeptical glance, and a few moments went by before he answered. "...I have." "That's it. Believe in that feeling. You have a gift, but everyone else is a fool, including me. The reason why you're all alone is because of your talents. Utilize them. There's nothing you can't do." "Don't think you can control me with a few compliments." Ranpo slightly averted his gaze. "My mother told me to never look down on others. Besides, why would only I be special? There are so many people in the city, so why would I be the only special one?" "That's because..." I'm almost there. I can't allow myself to mess up now. The time for decision was near. Fukuzawa wasn't an eloquent speaker. He wasn't someone who could manipulate others with his words. There was only one card left up his sleeve that he could play. Sincerity.

"You were right," admitted Fukuzawa. "I used to carry a sword at my waist. From an early age, I trained at a government-run school of martial arts. I was one of the five greatest swordsmen in the government, known as Goken. I truly thought my sword was for the peace and welfare of the nation... And I killed for that belief." Fukuzawa stared off into the distance. Ranpo carefully observed his expressions. "Assassinations were extremely simple. I had an overwhelming advantage, and not even once had I ever struggled in battle. It started to frighten me when I noticed I was looking forward to my next mission. I no longer knew if I was killing for the country or killing for the enjoyment of it. That was when I decided to permanently lay down my sword."

Fukuzawa remained calm as he spoke. Why am I telling him this? Why am I telling this kid something I've never told anyone before? But the words continuously crawled out of the depths of his heart and poured out of his mouth. "Power must be kept in check. Power that cannot be controlled must be discarded. If you refuse to acknowledge your gift, you are not different from the bloodthirsty man I used to be. You must recognize your talents, especially now that your parents are gone." Fukuzawa yearned to speak more eloquently. He didn't need the ability to fire up an entire crowd, or even the sort of inane flattery that could rouse the populace. All he wanted was to be able to tell a little white lie so that this kid could see the simple truth.

"I get what you're saying, but..." Ranpo scowled hard at Fukuzawa while remaining seated. "But - then tell me. What am I? What were my parents telling me? Make me understand why I'm here - why I'm like this. If you can do that, then I'll believe you." Ranpo was no longer sulking. Instead, he was honestly looking for an answer - something he'd never done before. And Fukuzawa was the only one who could give it to him. "The intermission is about to end. Please return to your seats." The announcement played over the intercom. The few people around started to walk away and head back to their seats, and Ranpo was already looking toward the small crowd. Fukuzawa didn't have much time. If he let his chance go by, Ranpo would probably never seek answers again. "That's because..." Fukuzawa paused midsentence. Anything. Anything would do. He just needed to say something. He had already used the ace up his sleeve: sincerity. He wasn't good at persuading others or speaking eloquently, either. He was even worse at lying. Just then... Fukuzawa suddenly caught sight of the script rolled up in Ranpo's hand. The troupe had given it to him, but he hadn't made it past the first paragraph before getting bored. As if by reflex, Fukuzawa said:

(you're a wizard,harry-)

"Because you're a skill user." Ranpo seemed perplexed. "...What?" "A skill user," repeated Fukuzawa. Even he still wasn't exactly sure what he was saying. "The reason you're special is because you're a skill user. You skill awakened when your parents died. That's... that's precisely it." "A skill user...? Why?" Ranpo's eyes darted about in abject confusion. This was essentially the first time Fukuzawa had experienced something like this in his life. More precisely - he had never spoken so impulsively. "It's all because of your skill. You can see the truth with nothing more than a simple glance. They spoke about it in the play, right? There are people in this world who possess supernatural abilities. And skills don't always make the possessor happy. Yours is the reason why you're in pain and why everyone seems like a monster." "...???" Ranpo was at a loss. He blinked in silent confusion. "You have to control your skill."

Fukuzawa gave thanks to his daily training. He had no idea what he was saying, but his heart was racing, and cold sweat dripped from his palms. Nevertheless, his expression was completely still. It was as if he were reading the newspaper just as he always did. Any hesitation in a fight with real swords could lead to death. The enemy must never get the chance to observe your eyes and predict your next move. That was why Fukuzawa was naturally able to keep a straight face, even if he was feeling anguished or terrified. Put it simply, Fukuzawa was playing cool. "You are a skill user, therefore you're special. To prove that, I'll teach you how to control that skill. You'll be able to freely utilize it with the help of a certain item. And with that item, you will learn how to control this skill that brings you such pain." "...?? A 'certain item'? Like what...?" Leaning forward, Ranpo tilted his head to the side. I haven't thought that far yet. Fukuzawa's eyes wandered around the room in search of a hint. Anything will do. Is there nothing here? There has to be something that can make Ranpo focus. Something... His hand lightly brushed against his pocket. That's it. "This." Fukuzawa whipped something out of his pocket.

"What the...? Glasses?" "It was a gift given to me by a well-known noble in Kyoto." I lied. It was dead stock from the neighborhood general store. "When you wear these, your skill be activated, and you will be able to immediately see the truth. On the other hand, when you're not wearing them, you will no longer care about how foolish those around you are. Here, they're yours." "...Okay..." Ranpo accepted the black-framed glasses as if he had no idea what was going on. "These look like ordinary cheap glasses to me..." He's got that right. "Of course they would, since you didn't even know that skills existed until earlier today." Fukuzawa quietly took in a deep breath. "Uh-huh... So do I put them on?" Ranpo unfolded the temples, then lowered his head and started to put on the glasses when⎯

"Haaah!" ⎯Fukuzawa let out a battle cry, and Ranpo immediately lost consciousness. It was an energy blast, as before, but the scale and directionality were different this time. It was a chi attack normally used in life-and-death battles, but Fukuzawa had utilized it to knock Ranpo out. Even a highly trained martial artist's head would go blank and lose control of their body in the face of such an attack, so a teenager like Ranpo stood no chance. Ranpo was unconscious while still holding the glasses to his face. He collapsed into his chair, and the impact caused the glasses to completely latch around his ears. "...Ah..." A few seconds went by before he regained consciousness. Ranpo stared up at the ceiling, blinking. "Behold. The world is a new place," Fukuzawa said, welcoming him. "Huh...? What just happened...? These are keeping my skill in check...? I don't feel any different, though... Do I...? Do I not...? My head feels kind of funny..."

(im sorry but KJHGDFSVBFJDDGUSHUIF-)

"The glasses have accepted you," claimed Fukuzawa with a profound note in his voice. He wore the expression of an enlightened being living atop a sacred mountain. Deep down, however, he was taken aback by just how outlandish his claim was. "Use these to control your skill. From now on, you are skilled detective Ranpo Edogawa. Use your skill to uncover the truth. Destroy evil hidden in darkness. You can do that, for you are the greatest detective in the world." "I, uh... 'G-greatest detective in the world'?" "Yes. The greatest detective in the world," repeated Fukuzawa as if he were imprinting that thought on a newly born chick's mind. "Isn't it all clear now? The world isn't a frightening place. Everyone else isn't a monster. They're just stupider than you." Ranpo caught his breath. He traced his finger around the glasses' frames as he pondered. "But... No, could it be? So back then, and then, and that time... Everyone was just stupid? They just didn't know any better?"

"Exactly. Listen, Ranpo. The world is full of fools. They don't know how to look at things. They're babies who can't even hold up their own heads yet. Nobody bears any ill will toward you. Do you think babies hate others? Do you think they would try to confuse someone to trick them?" "...No," muttered Ranpo with his head hanging low. "So that one time... And that other time... All the pain I've suffered... But when you put it that way... I see..." Hunched over with a downcast gaze, Ranpo slightly lifted up his head. It was as if he were slowly breaking out of his cocoon. "I see... So that's why. Nobody hates me." "Nobody hates you."

Ranpo suddenly hopped to his feet. His beaming smile stretched from ear to ear. You could practically hear the light bulb go off in his head. "Ha-ha-ha... Ha-ha-ha-ha! Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha! It all makes sense! So everyone is just a big baby! Well, of course they are! The world isn't a disgusting place! Not at all! It's just a simple, stupid place!" Ranpo laughed in glee. He stood up straight, virtually radiating with a powerful glow like the morning sun. His expression was brighter than Fukuzawa had ever seen before. Ranpo was overjoyed with his rebirth. Then he declared, "Looks like I've gotta protect these stupid toddlers myself!" Ranpo swiftly turned around and looked at Fukuzawa. "Go back to the theater without me, old guy! I've got something I need to do. I can probably still prevent the murder from happening!"

"...What?" "The killer is going to do what he said he would! That much is crystal clear! So I'm gonna use that to my advantage! Now go! I need you right next to the stage!" Ranpo steadily pushed Fukuzawa forward from behind. Fukuzawa had no idea what was going on. His stream-of-consciousness fib somehow got Ranpo to understand he was gifted a moment ago, but now it felt as if he was far past that. What was going on? The killer was about to strike? "Wait? But if we do that-" "Trust me! Just go!" Ranpo was pushing Fukuzawa even harder now. Losing the initiative, Fukuzawa was slowly pushed into the hall, unable to even fight back. But...if the killer really was about to make a move, wouldn't it be dangerous to leave Ranpo alone?

Just then, the chime signaling the curtain's rise rang. "I can already see it - the enemy's target, their plan! I can see it all! I'll be just fine. Go on ahead. I want you to keep an eye on the audience!" Fukuzawa hesitated. It was wonderful that Ranpo was motivated, but if what he said was true, then that would mean there was a killer lurking in the theater. There was no way trying to thwart the enemy's plan wouldn't be dangerous. He looked at Ranpo's expression. It was strong; it was the face of someone who overcame. He'd overcome colossal walls and broken through the chains that shackled him. That would make this his first job as a new man. Fukuzawa had to trust him. To do anything else would be disrespectful. "All right. Be careful," Fukuzawa said with a nod. "I will!" exclaimed Ranpo, his voice projecting far and wide.

"After all, I'm the one who protects the foolish! I'm the greatest detective in the world!"

[fallingforel]

Arabella pt 11-for the hope of it all

words: 1,638

gif cred: @thefrontofmymind

"Matty, hey, how are you?"

"fucking shite, bug, they've got me attached to all these wires, I don't want to be here, I want to be in my bed with you"

"Matty" I sigh knowing the next thing I'm about to say isn't what he wants to hear, but it has to be said before I give him a false sense that he's going home after he's been discharged.

"what? spit it out woman" he says making me chuckle, even when he was lying in a hospital bed he was an impatient 3 year old.

"hey, you may be lying in a hospital bed, but I'm not afraid to kick your arse still." I replied before perking up again "do you know what happened Matty?"

"yeah, took a bunch of shit and blacked out"

"yes but you also, suffered from Alcohol poisioning which resulted in you having your stomach pumped, You also hit your head pretty hard, they weren't sure you were going to wake up. You overdosed too"

"shit really? did I really have to get my stomach pumped?"

"yes. why is that the only thing you pick up from that?"

"SICK! Never had to have that done to me before"

"No! Matty, it's not sick, it's bad if you were left there any longer, you could've died."

"Adams been asking about been asking about you too, said you were okay as well."

"whats up with you, why are you calling Hann by his actual name, and not his last name or Ad's like you usually do? whats gone while I was half dead. You all haven't fallen apart without me have you?"

"HEY! you were not half dead, you were merely taking an extra long sleep."

"okay sure I was taking an extra long sleep, tell me whats gone on now then"

"adam said you were dead, when we weren't sure if you were going to wake up, basically blaming you for everything, wasn't your fault you deal with pain different to us, you get high and drunk when your in so much pain"

"yeah, can't say that, what Adam said didn't hurt. Because that would be a lie."

"he still hasn't apologised by the way, it's been two weeks. Been passing everything along to G and Ross. about your state, Your going to the bahamas or bermuda, haven't decided which one your going to yet."

"what for?"

"for rehab matty, You blacked out, the doctors have been strongly suggesting rehab, more of an order than a suggestion I guess"

"nice, It'll be nice to get away from this shitty weather for a good while" He says trying to lace his voice with meaningfulness, though I know he doesn't want to go, Just hoping it makes me shut up about it. I know him through and through and I knew that he was lying through his teeth.

he sits in silence with me for a while before he scares me blurting out a "shit" from his mouth.

"what?"

"what about the album? How am I going to record if I am going to be going to the bahamas"

"don't you worry your sweet little head about that Stink. I've sorted it" Giving him a grin like the chesire cat.

"why have you got that look on your face?" He asks from his hospital bed giving me a confused taken aback look.

"what look?" I ask dumbfounded pretending I don't understand.

"the cheshire cat look Y/n, The one that tells me that you've done something stupid."

"Matty. I haven't done anything stupid perse, just something you might not approve of."

"what?"

"I'm not telling you. You'll hate me for it."

"Tell me. Couldn't hate you more than I already do for sending me to fucking rehab"

"You know it's for the best Matty."

"spit it out"

"I asked, col to take your place on the album. He sounds just enough like you that nobody would notice, he's not touring for you though."

"ABSOLUTELY FUCKING NOT. I AM NOT HAVING THAT SCUMBAG TAKE MY FUCKING PLACE THATS MY FIRST FUCKING ALBUM YOUR TALKING ABOUT. CALL OFF THE REHAB GET ME TO THE STUDIO, RIGHT FUCKING NOW" he says raising his voice.

Col and Matty never got on. Not when me and him were together, not when we all ran in the same friendship circle. and certainly not when we broke up and I found out he cheated on me, and I ran to matty's house in tears and cried on his shoulder and slept on his sofa for a month.

-7 MONTHS EARLIER-

"oh, you have got to be fucking joking me" I say as I walked into my shared apartment in London with my boyfriend of 6 years and my bestfriend and adams girlfriend of 5 years. with his head in between her legs.

"Y/n it's not what it looks like"

"yeah, course it fucking isn't. Get a life. I'm going."

"where?"

"away from you, have a nice life. We're DONE" I say.

and before I know it I'm walking out, away from my life and from him all I have ever known while living in london, the first love I have ever known. grabbing my coat and shutting the apartment door and running through the complex out the lobby door, hailing a taxi to the now only safe haven I knew Matty's house.

"Y/n? what are you doing here?" he asks opening the door to me tears filled my eyes. "he cheated on me, with beth." "that fucker. come in, don't want you getting a cold now do we?" I shake my head no and go to sit on his sofa where I would reside for the next month before getting my life together.

-BACK TO THE PRESENT/ DEC 2012-

"Matty calm down will you, your scaring all the other patients. Just sit down, let's talk it through before you go mental and take three steps back that's not what we're trying to achieve here"

"fine." He slumps back on the pillows turning his body to face the wall away from me.

"Matty, we've gone through all the options. All the people closest to you: Ross, Adam, G, your mum, your dad, my mum and dad, jamie too. And we've all agreed it wasn't a bad idea Adam and I are fine with it. But if you disagree to it here's whats going to happen. Your probably going to miss out on releasing your album, You're going to be put on drug watch with someone at your side all times even when you piss if you decide that you want to record, everyone is going to keep an eye out for you. So it's all up to you, but those are your options. What one do you think is best?"

"I ain't going to rehab."

"yes you are Matty, we've already established this. We've picked a nice place out for you to go. It's in bermuda, you get to do equine therapy play with horses, you get to watch the sea it's all very theraputic. It'll help you out Matty trust me. It's either this or a shitty rehab centre in a shitty town in the U.K where you get no 1 to 1 care either. I've got the card and my laptop here. You can have a look at it." I say pulling my laptop out of the cubby hole next to Mattys bed and the card out of my jacket pocket.

"I ain't going."

"matty, you are. You can either go the nice way, which is you go willingly or you can go the harder way where they pull you out of here themselves and I've seen it happen more than once when i've come to visit you. Matty you need to choose, the doctors aren't letting you out of here until you've chosen the route you want to go down, which is going to be close drug watch with one of us, or all of us and rehab at the end after you've recorded or rehab and let col record. and then hard or easiest way"

"fine."

"so whats it going to be?"

"I don't know yet, let me think it through can you go get me some proper food. I don't want none of this hospital shitty crap."

"yeah, okay what do you want?"

"maccies. Double cheeseburger and coke please"

"okay, I'll go get you some. be back soon" I say before leaving his hospital room with a chaste kiss on his forehead.

the drive thru was rather short getting myself chicken nugget meal and I thought on the way back I should probably tell George what was going on seeing as he was closest to Matty after me of course.

"so whats going on"

"I don't know G, I told him I was sending him to rehab he seemed okay at first, knew it was a lie though I could tell. Then I told him about Col recording the album and he started shouting and denying going to rehab, I gave him his options he ended up saying fine. Don't know whether he's chosen going to rehab first or recording. G I'm scared."

"there's no need to be. It's matty he'll come around eventually you know he will. No need to swea-"

and G is abruptly cut off by someone else ringing me, the hospital. that can't be good

"err G I'm gonna have to go, the hospitals phoning"

"okay okay, enjoy mattys madness" He says ending the call allowing me to pick up the hospitals phone call.

"hello?" I say

"hello. Is this Y/N L/N."

"It is how can I help."

"it's matty."

"what about him?"

"he's disappeared"

"okay. I'm coming I'll be there soon." I say ending the phone before screaming

"FOR FUCKS SAKE"

[cynicalone94]

Suffering In Silence

Read on AO3 here.

His stomach hurts.

And he really, really wants his mom to make it all better but she’s been throwing up for the last two days so he’s pretty sure whatever is going on with her stomach trumps his problems.

So instead he curls up on the couch next to Will, tucking his knees up to his chest and tries to figure out who’s playing.

“Cardinals are playing the Jets.” Will says without looking up.

He nods, whispering his thanks and focuses on the game.

He wakes up in his own bed, disoriented for a moment before he realizes that he must have fallen asleep during the game and his dad had carried him upstairs instead of waking him up.

It’s pretty late, the flashing clock between he and Will’s bed proclaiming just before three in the morning and he slides out of bed, stumbling to the bathroom.

He quickly finishes his business and then hurries back to bed. But the sleep doesn’t want to come back once he’s settled back under the blankets and he lies there in the dark, listening to Will snore and wondering why his stomach feels so bad.

Dad says that stomach aches usually happen when you’ve had too much candy and he hadn’t had any today. He also definitely didn’t go to the doctor like his mom so he hadn’t been given any of the medicine that makes her so sick.

He doesn’t really understand how medicine makes her sick and why she’s still taking it if it does.

But he hasn’t taken any so that’s not what’s wrong with him.

He must eventually fall asleep because he wakes up to his mom shaking him gently.

“Time to get up.” she says. “You don’t want to be late for school.”

Says who?

But he doesn’t want to upset his mom so he throws back the covers and climbs out of bed, gasping when his feet make contact with the cold floor.

His mom laughs softly.

“Why don’t you get your socks on first?” she suggests. “Keep those cute little feet of yours warm.”

“Mo-om.” he whines but she just kisses the top of his head.

“Breakfast is almost ready.”

His stomach starts hurting again just before lunch and he sits at the table, distractedly listening to his friends while he pushes his food around his plate.

By the time he gets home he just wants to curl up on the couch again but his mom insists that he has to do his homework before he can watch tv so he sits at the kitchen table, drumming his pencil against the table.

Will finishes most all of his homework by the time Jay has finished his math worksheets and offers to quiz him on his spelling words.

But he struggles to remember how to spell any of them and the usual teasing from his big brother brings tears to his eyes.

He slams his head against the table top in frustration, using it to hide his face while he quickly scrubs at his eyes.

“Sorry Jay.” Will says quickly. “I know its frustrating but you’ll get it. Mrs. Eisenbrown taught me a really cool trick for remembering how to spell close. You want me to teach you?”

He sniffles, wiping his eyes one more time before forcing himself to lift his head, nodding.

Will starts talking again and he latches onto his words, wanting to focus on anything other than the pain in his stomach.

He reads to his mom after dinner, stumbling over a few words but she seems pleased.

“Good job.” she says as he puts the book away. “You’re doing a lot better, sweetheart.”

He just nods, scooting closer and curling into her side.

“Are you feeling okay?” she asks, stroking her fingers through his hair.

He nods again.

“I hate spelling.” he mutters. “Why is it so hard?”

“Sometimes things in life have to be hard so that we know how strong we are.” she says, kissing the top of his head.

“Even you?” he whispers.

“Even me, baby.” she says. “Now why don’t you go watch some tv with your brother until it’s time to get ready for bed?”

“Can I just sit here with you?” he asks.

“Of course you can.” she promises. “I love you so much, sweetheart.”

“Love you too.”

School the next day is pretty awful.

He doesn’t understand why his stomach won’t stop hurting and its making it hard to focus in class.

Mrs. Laramie is definitely getting annoyed with him and he feels bad but the pages of the worksheet he’s supposed to be doing have started swimming every couple of minutes.

He’s tired, dizzy and thinks that he might throw up. But he can’t do that because if he does they’ll call his mom to come pick him up and he doesn’t want to worry her.

He sneaks out of the cafeteria at lunch because the smells are too strong and make his stomach twist and turn even more violently.

He manages to make it to the bathroom before throwing up and is sitting on the floor, resting his head against the cool metal of the stall when the five minute bell rings.

Hastily scrambling to his feet, he flushes the toilet and then hurries out to wash his hands and rinse his mouth before racing for the playground.

He stumbles into line with the other kids just as Mrs. Laramie arrives to bring them back into the classroom and ducks his head, avoiding the stern look that she gives him.

The rest of the day passes in a similar blur and before he knows it, he’s walking into his mom’s arms in front of the school.

“What’s the matter, baby?” she asks quietly, kneeling in front of him and pressing her hand to his forehead. “You’re warm.”

“My stomach hurts.” he whimpers.

“Why didn’t you have them call me?” she asks. “How long have you been feeling bad?”

He shrugs, not wanting to lie to her but also not wanting to worry her anymore.

“I didn’t want them to bother you.” he says.

“You are never a bother.” she says, kissing his forehead. “Will, would you mind carrying his backpack?”

“Sure mom.” his brother says and Jay absently notes that he sounds worried before the world is spinning as his mom lifts him into her arms.

He swallows hard, breathing through his nose as he fights down the nausea and buries his head in her shoulder.

Normally, he would be horrified that everyone at school is seeing his mom carry him like a little baby but right now he just wants her to make this go away.

He’s almost asleep by the time they get home, soothed by the familiar scent of his mother’s shampoo.

She carries him up the stairs, helping him into pajamas before tucking him into bed.

“Do you think you might be sick?” she asks gently.

He just shrugs again and she sighs.

“I’ll get you a bucket.”

He falls asleep before she comes back and wakes to his parents talking outside the bedroom door.

“He looks awful.” his mother is saying. “I hate that he didn’t want to bother me but I can’t believe that his teacher didn’t notice that something was wrong.”

“She’s got thirty other kids to keep track of.” his dad answers.

“Maybe.” his mom says, not sounding convinced.

“He’ll be okay.” his dad tells her. “It’s probably just a stomach bug.”

He doesn’t feel very okay but he’s so tired and his mom and dad won’t let anything bad happen to him so he closes his eyes and drifts back to sleep.

He wakes up screaming.

Will is there in seconds, scrambling across the room and taking hold of his hand.

“Jay?” he says. “Jay, what’s the matter, buddy?”

“It hurts.” he cries. “I want mom. Where’s mom?”

“I’m here, sweetie.” she says, running into the room. “What’s the matter?”

“My stomach.” he sobs. “It hurts. Mom, please.”

“I’m here.” she soothes, her hand touching his head as if to stroke soothingly over his head before jumping back. “You’re burning up! Patrick!”

Another set of footsteps enter the room and then he hears heavy footsteps racing away from them.

His mom lifts him into her arms again and he curls into her, sobbing. He just wants it to stop, why won’t it stop?

Will is following them as his mom runs down the stairs and the jostling as she does causes him to scream again.

“It’s okay, sweetheart.” she soothes. “It’s okay. Momma is here. I’ll make this better.”

“Momma.” he sobs.

“I know baby, I know.” she soothes.

Will is talking, his voice frantic but Jay can’t make out any words.

There’s a jolt when the car starts moving and his stomach somersaults, violently ejecting its meager contents all over his mom and it just makes him cry harder.

The drive seems to take an eternity as he lays there, shaking and sobbing but finally the car screeches to a halt and he’s being pulled out of the backseat, away from his mom.

“Momma!” he cries, reaching for her.

Something stabs into his arm and he cries out again, screaming for her. Where’s his mom? He wants his mom.

And then a cold heaviness is settling over him and he feels himself drifting into the darkness.

When he wakes up again it doesn’t hurt anymore.

His whole body feels weird. Kind of… floaty.

He doesn’t really like it but it’s better than the all consuming pain that had felt like it was ripping him in half.

He opens his eyes, looking around.

“Jay?”

“Momma?” he asks, following the sound of her voice until he finally sees her face.

“How do you feel?” she asks, her hand coming up to stroke through his hair.

“Floaty.” he whispers. “Wa – happened?”

“Your appendix ruptured.” she says, and it hurts to see tears running down her cheeks. “Honey, how long was your stomach hurting?”

“A couple days.” he admits, looking down.

“Sweetheart, why didn’t you say something?” she asks.

“I didn’t wanna worry you.”

“I’m your mom.” she says, stroking his hair. “It’s my job to worry about you.”

“I’m sorry.” he whispers, tears running down his cheeks. “I didn’t want to make you sad. I didn’t mean to.”

“Hey.” she soothes. “You’re okay. I’m not mad at you, baby. I’m just glad you’re going to be okay.”

“It was scary.” he says. “And it hurt. A lot.”

“I know.” she says. “It scared me too. But you aren’t hurting now?”

He shakes his head.

“Good.” she says, offering him a teary smile. “I love you so much, sweetheart. Next time you don’t feel good, please just tell me.”

“I will.” he promises. “I love you too.”