#this character could be nothing but a punching bag

[novelconcepts]

sooo interested to hear your thoughts on lottie/laura lee for the ship meme!! 😊

Oh, I absolutely ship Lottie and Laura Lee. Lottie as the fandom bicycle is so funny to me, but she really does have some of the most fascinating dynamics to work with. Laura Lee in particular is great because, again, she could so easily have been one-note. Haha, look, she's just too far into the Jesus fandom, nothing else going on. And, from the pilot, we kind of get the sense that Lottie feels that way about her.

But then they're in the woods, and Laura Lee is strong. She's got her faith--maybe the first real sign to Lottie that faith in something is what's going to keep them all going--and she's so eager to share it. Not in a forcible way, but from a truly gentle, excited "come here, come learn about something that means so much to me" perspective. More than anything, she's willing to listen to Lottie without judgement when Lottie is worried she's going crazy. It's so kind, and I love that Lottie goes from rolling her eyes at Laura Lee to really leaning on her, trusting her with this massive vulnerability. And THEN for Laura Lee to be so brave, to make what turns out to be a sacrificial voyage, and for Lottie to replace her as the faith foundation of the wilderness (but in a way that Laura Lee probably wouldn't be so keen on, had she lived) is so heartbreaking and genuine. I will always, always love that it's Laura Lee who haunts Lottie first, who haunts her right out of nearly freezing to death. Laura Lee, who Lottie doubtless would have laughed at until the crash, giving her something to hang onto when she's got nothing left.

[todayisafridaynight]

born to do a Saeko Only y7 run forced to be technically illiterate

[prythianpages]

When I Kissed the Teacher | Azriel

Summary: After crushing on Azriel for almost a year, Nesta dares you to kiss him during Valkyrie training.

Warning: reader thirsting for Az and fluff for my batboy ♥

A/N: @daycourtofficial suggested this song and idea! Though I did a poll and Az won, I couldn't help myself and also write a version for Cas (you can read it here) as a huge thank you for following and reading my stuff. I just reached 1K followers ♥

This is part of my ABBA x ACOTAR series (masterlist) where I dedicate a song to a character (:

The first moment you saw Azriel, you were instantly drawn to him. 

His sun kissed skin radiated warmth. The hazel depths of his eyes hinted at wisdom earned through ages. His dark hair, a cascade of silken strands, framed a face sculpted to perfection. The Illyrian leathers he wore were a gift from the gods themselves as they only highlighted the well-defined muscles that lay beneath…

And his wings? Gods, those wings of his. They were massive yet delicate and iridescent. The way they always unfurled with such grace had your own wings fluttering in response.

But it wasn’t just the arresting beauty that surpassed all males you’ve encountered that drew you in. It was the impeccable way he carried himself. The mastery he exuded in combat, the patience he had while training you because if you’re going to be honest, you’re sure you pushed him past his limits. Yet, no matter how tough he was on you during training, Azriel was always kind to you outside of training grounds.

It didn’t take you long to fall for him and it didn’t matter how much you unleashed your inner turmoil onto the punching bag. Nothing could shake the strange fluttering sensation in your stomach every time your mind drifted to him. It’s like there were a million butterflies fluttering in your stomach.

Sweat glistens on your forehead and your eyebrows furrow in concentration, too lost in your thoughts to pay mind to the silent spectator that had arrived minutes ago…until he finally steps out from the shadows and speaks.

“I’d hate to be the one on your mind right now.”

A misplaced punch lands awkwardly, causing a sharp pain to shoot through your hand. “Azriel,” you breathe, your cheeks flushing as you cradle your hand close to your chest. If only he knew…

“Fuck,” Azriel curses, hazel eyes flashing with concern. He swiftly closes the distance between and gently takes your injured hand into his, inspecting it with a small frown. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“You could never scare me.”

Azriel raises an eyebrow, eyes lifting to meet yours. “Is that so?” He replies, a hint of amusement in his voice. “I think I may be going too soft on you then”

“Soft?” You exhale in an incredulous manner, remembering the way your last training session with Azriel had ended. 

He had taunted you and your Illyrian blood had heated at the challenge in his words, allowing him to coax you into combating him. Of course, you were no match for him. You had begun training only a year ago, thanks to Emerie’s invitation. Azriel had centuries on you. Your muscles were still aching from the aftermath.

Azriel chuckles. “Come,” he says, guiding you back into the house. His hand holds onto your wrist lightly, being careful so as not to hurt your injured hand further. “Let’s get you patched up.”

**

As Azriel carefully attends to your hand, you can’t help the way your gaze lingers on him. His features are tense with concentration and concern, unbothered by the dark fringe that falls slightly over his eyes. Your uninjured hand is itching to run through those dark strands and brush his hair back for him.

You swear your heart skips a beat when Azriel lifts his gaze, catching your brazen staring. A flush spreads across your cheeks, and you quickly avert your gaze, missing the subtle, self-satisfied smile that graces Azriel's lips.

The sudden intrusion of Nesta breaks the spell, her figure leaning against the doorframe with crossed arms, an amused twinkle in her gaze. While you were oblivious to Azriel's reaction, Nesta, caught the soft smile he allowed himself.

“Am I interrupting something?”

Both of you turn your heads to find Nesta. There’s a smirk on her face as her eyes flicker between you and Azriel.

“Uh, no. Not at all,” you stammer, attempting to mask your embarrassment. “Just a little injury, that’s all.”

“Nothing to worry yourself over, Nesta,” Azriel chimes in, lowering his gaze to secure the bandage wrapped around your hand. “All done.”

“Thanks, Azriel.”

Azriel rises to his feet, and the shadows that dance around his shoulders seem to buzz with excitement over the soft way you had said his name. He pats your thigh, suppressing his smile as he stands.

Nesta's smirk transforms into a sly grin, her keen eyes not missing the way Azriel keeps his gaze averted from you to save you from further embarrassment. It doesn’t matter, anyway. His shadows are happy to inform him of the mortified look you send Nesta’s way followed by the way you silently mouth “stop” at her. 

"Well, that’s great news,” Nesta replies, grasping your uninjured hand and pulling you to your feet. “Thank you for taking care of her, Az. Now, if you don’t mind, y/n here is late to girl’s night.”

As Nesta ushers you out, Azriel watches with a mixture of amusement and warmth in his hazel eyes. Unbeknownst to you, the unexpected emotions that had taken residence in your heart were mirrored in Azriel’s.

**

Under the soft glow of fairy lights, you sit cross-legged on the plush rug, facing Nesta while Emerie and Gwyn sit on either side of you. An array of snacks, provided by the sentient house, sits in the middle of the circle you and your friends formed. And of course, it wouldn’t be a girl’s night without the age-old game of truth or dare.

“Your turn,” Emerie grins at you, exchanging a knowing look with the other two females. “Truth or dare?”

Given the mischievous glint in Nesta’s eyes, it was an obvious choice for you. Truth would be the safer option. Emerie’s grin falters, disappointed by your choice.

However, Gwyn sees an opportunity. She wraps her blanket tighter around herself, shifting in her spot eagerly. She leans forward to grab a chocolate covered strawberry before nonchalantly asking: “Do you like Azriel?”

Nesta scoffs, throwing her hands in the air. “Oh, come on. Like we even have to ask.”

“True,” Gwyn giggles. “But I want to hear her say it.”

Heat rises to your cheeks for the third time tonight, creating a persistent warmth that makes you wonder if you might give yourself a fever. Your friends collectively hold their breaths in anticipation. Nesta’s gaze remains fixed on you, unwavering.

“Yes.”

The room erupts into squeals and teasing remarks, and your eyes widen, urging them to hush, terrified that Azriel, who is upstairs, might hear. It’s a futile attempt as their cheers only grow louder, making you bury your face in her hands.

“He likes you too.”

Your peak out from beneath your fingers. “What makes you say that?”

Nesta laughs in response but Emerie and Gywn are quick to tease you even further.  Gywn assumes the role of Azriel while Emerie assumes the role of you as they exchange glances and lingering touches. The two females jump to their feet and wooden swords appear in front of them. You look up with a glare directed at the sentient house.

With a swift flick of her wrist, Gwyn uses her wooden sword to knock Emerie’s out of her hand. “Again,” Gwyn nearly growls as she tries to mimic Azriel’s deep voice.

“I can’t,” Emerie replies, feigning shyness.

“I don’t sound like that!” You cry out in disbelief, turning to Nesta. “I don’t sound like that, right?”

Nesta shrugs her shoulders, eyes sparkling with mirth at the scene before her. Emerie and Gwyn ignore your protests, continuing to pretend to be you and Azriel.

“Oh, Azriel, my love,” Emerie swoons, the back of her hand flying to her forehead while her other hand hangs in the air. “I think I sprained my wrist.”

Gwyn gasps dramatically, diving in to catch Emerie before she could fall back against the fortress of pillows behind her. “No, not my sweet y/n, who I’m absolutely smitten with” Gwyn coos, bringing Emerie’s “injured” hand to her lips and kissing it.

Then, Gwyn and Emerie absolutely lose it, the two females falling onto the fortress of pillows as laughter consumes them, unfazed by the glare you’re now directing to them. Nesta stifles her own laughter, turning her attention back to you.

“He definitely likes you,” she repeats, her words awakening the butterflies in your stomach. You wonder if she can hear them fluttering too. “But he won’t make the first move. You’re going to have to do it yourself.”

“Absolutely not!”

 Nesta grins at you. “We’ll see about that.”

“Whatever,” you huff out. “It’s your turn now. Truth or dare?”

The night wears on, filled with more laughter, more shared secrets, and the occasional embarrassing dare. You got your friends back by daring them to have multiple spoonfuls of ice cream and tomato sauce. The house keeps you well supplied with snacks and your glasses of wine never go empty.

When it’s your turn again, you hesitate for a moment. You had thought “truth” had been the safer option but now, you know there is no safe option.

This time, you decide to be brave.

“Dare.”

"Fucking finally," Emerie grins, looking at Nesta while Gwyn smiles at you. Their plan is unfolding seamlessly...

“We dare you to kiss Azriel tomorrow after training.”

Your eyes widen in panic. “What? No way!”

Nesta, seemingly unfazed, inspects her nails with feigned boredom. "Coward," she mutters under her breath.

Her words, though hushed, ignite something deep within you. Your Illyrian blood stirs, the challenge resonating in your veins. Your eyes narrow, fixing on Nesta. "What did you say?"

Nesta meets your gaze as she repeats herself. Louder, this time. “Coward.”

The room falls into a hushed silence as your friends await your response. You bite your lip, contemplating the audacious dare. It was not in your nature to back down from a challenge.

After what felt like an eternity, you let out a deep exhale.

“Fine, I’ll do it.”

**

You didn’t sleep at all last night but as Azriel circles around you, his eyes holding a glint of challenge, you are wide awake. Emerie, Gwyn and Nesta watch from the benches facing the sparring grounds while Cassian watches from a closer distance, keenly assessing your every move. Too caught up in your feelings over Azriel, you had failed to realize that this morning’s training session was an evaluation of the skills you had been working on over the past couple of months.

To say you're nervous was an understatement because not only did you have to prove yourself as the aspiring Valkyrie you’d like to become, you also had to prove to Nesta that you were not a coward. Taking a deep breath, your grip tightens on your sword.

Azriel, with his wings casting shadows on the ground, moves with grace. Each movement is precise and deliberate as your swords meet in a flurry of strikes, the sound of steel ringing in the air. Though you struggle, you do your best to keep up and hold your ground, determination burning bright.

Sweat begins to cling to your skin and your envious of the way Azriel hasn’t even broken a sweat himself. With every strike of his and every parry of yours, he continues to push you, his strikes growing harsher and stronger. You literally blink and in that swift second, Azriel knocks your sword out of your grip. A hiss escapes you and you swear your hear Gwyn and Emerie snicker from the sidelines as they find this situation all too familiar.

With a sweep of his leg, you lose your balance and find yourself falling onto one of the training mats. Azriel’s lips twitch upwards as he points his sword toward you. “Do you yield?”

You are weaponless and at his mercy but your stubbornness continues to burn bright. “No.”

In a sudden burst of energy, you land a kick on him, knocking his sword out of his grip just as he did to yours. The bold move leaves him momentarily stunned, his shadows coiling back in surprise. You take full advantage of his distraction, hooking your other leg behind his knees and bringing him down to the mat with you.

Azriel can only blink up at you as you straddle him, eyes widening when he feels a dagger–his dagger–pressed against his throat. How did you–

He’s unable to finish his thought as you shift above him and swallows thickly at the sensation of your body on top of his. The way your breathing is shallow and uneven and the way he can feel the warmth radiating off your body–

“You will.”

Your words have his attention drifting back to you. A radiant smile breaks across your face and his own lips curl upwards, hazel eyes softening as they stare into yours. “I yield,” he murmurs, ever so quietly, you wonder if you imagined it.

Your gaze drifts down to his lips and then back to his eyes. He does the same. And then the next moment, you’re kissing him. Softly and hesitantly, at first, but when Azriel responds, your heart fills with warmth. Your lips move against his with eager urgency.

Truthteller falls from your grasp and you bring your hand to grasp at the back of his neck instead, pulling him even closer. His hands find their place at your waist to keep you in place but then screams and squeals are piercing through the air. You’re immediately pulling away and jumping to your feet, absolutely flustered because in the heat of the moment, you had forgotten all about the audience you had.

You glance down at Azriel, desperately seeking a sign, but his expression is a mix of surprise and confusion. He looks nearly petrified. Your heart races and you begin to wonder if perhaps, you are a coward because all you want to do is run.

Your hand flies to your mouth. Doubts claw at the edges of your courage. What if Nesta was wrong? What if Azriel didn't like you? And you've just made a fool of yourself in front of him–your teacher– and your friends. 

Turning around, your eyes meet with the delightfully entertained audience. Gwyn and Emerie, caught up in the drama, cling to each other with excitement and unrestrained giggles. Nesta stands with the same smirk she gave you the night before though there’s a flicker of surprise in her blue-grey eyes. She hadn't expected you to follow through with the dare.

Meanwhile, Cassian’s gaze is fixed on the body behind you and he throws his head back in laughter. Ignoring the whispers and amused glances from those around you, you hastily make your exit, blind to the way you left Azriel a blushing fool.

Cassian approaches his friend, who remains rooted to his spot on the floor. Azriel is still processing the whirlwind of emotions you've stirred within him. There’s a teasing grin on Cassian’s lips. “Are you okay there, Az? You look a little–”

Azriel snaps out of the trance you've cast upon him to glare up at his friend. “Fuck off.”

He then jumps to his feet, dusting himself off and ignoring the curious glances of the females nearby. Determination fills his eyes as his head turns toward the direction you ran off to. He fears you have misinterpreted his initial shock and he can’t let this moment slip away. 

He needs to feel your soft lips against his again and more importantly, he needs to tell you that he feels the same way.

a/n: Hope you all enjoyed this one! Cas's version is already up!

tagging: @hellodarling1357, @kennedy-brooke, @scooobies

[sea-lanterns]

A NIGHTMARE ON ELM STREET

synopsis: (slasher! AU) the killer that haunts your dreams is real.

featuring: rosaria

rating: 18+ smut (men and minors dni)

warnings: sub! afab fem reader, dom character, character is a serial killer, mentions of blood, mentions of gore but nothing like that happens, rosaria has knives, dark humor, reader is a virg.in, slight degradation, knife play, predator and prey ki.nk, cunnilin.gus (reader recieving), biting, reader gets nicked accidentally, may be ooc.

art credits: tomie

Perhaps it was the paranoia that was gnawing at your chest, but you felt as if someone was watching you from the dark corners of your room ever since you got into bed. For the past few nights or so, your dreams have been haunted by the same, shadowy woman that would chase you down in various parts of your town, waking you up just before she could get close enough to get her hands on you. Every night you would wake up drenched in a cold sweat, heart pounding with adrenaline as everything these dreams did made you feel as if you were living it in reality. You hadn’t gotten a decent night’s sleep in a while, the bags under your eyes prominent and worrying everyone you knew around you. 

Get therapy perhaps? No, no matter what everyone suggested, you knew this was more than simple nightmares and hallucinations. The woman felt real, she is real. The way she would hunt you down with a looming prescience, her tired smile haunting your visions while she dragged her blade-like gloves across the wall, emitting a painful screeching noise that would play on repeat whenever you started feeling anxious. This wasn’t good, you needed this to stop and you needed it to stop now. 

“I’m going insane…” you mumbled to yourself, laughing deliriously from the lack of sleep and staring at the ceiling of your room. Oh goodness, you were tired. You needed sleep but you knew that if you fell into dreamland, that woman would appear again and try to kill you. Every touch, every breath, she drew closer in your sleep, taunting you to close your eyes and let her ravish you in your dreams. 

“I can’t…” your eyes felt heavy, her smile a taunting reminder for you to close your eyes. “I…”

Close your eyes…

It felt as if she were whispering it into your ear, your consciousness on the edge of falling towards her. You wondered if you could do something about this, something that could stop her from tormenting you with her prescience. But alas, you found yourself feeling heavy, the ghostly hands caressing your cheek and drawing you in like an invisible invitation. 

You can’t…

Close your eyes…

The curse you let out was violent. Angry. You wanted to punch yourself in the face for falling asleep so easily, trying to will yourself to wake up before the woman appeared again. As you looked up at your surroundings, you found yourself on the campus of your university, yet there was no one else around and it was pitch black dark outside.

You began walking along the path of your campus, feeling uncomfortable with being out in the open like this. You figured you should probably hide, but honestly it wasn’t like hiding was your best chance of survival. No matter where you ran or hid in your dreams, that damned shadowy woman would always find you. 

A memory of her appearance flashed before your eyes, her tall, looming figure casting her presence in your mind. Rosaria… you remembered her name. How she would purr it in your ear moments before she was about to strike. Rosaria… you wouldn’t dare forget it, her wicked smile stretching ear to ear like a cat toying with a mouse. 

You jolted when you thought you heard the screeching noise of metal against metal. Her claws. Oh how could you forget about her claws? They were the thing that frightened you the most about her. The way they would eerily scratch against the wall to warn you of her presence…

Speaking of her claws, you should probably move faster. It was getting to the point in your dreams where she would make her presence known.

You hurried off the sidewalk and into one of the buildings of your university, hoping you could survive until your brain eventually woke up. Your university looked and sounded eerie without anyone else inside the building, your footsteps echoing on the tiled floor as you kept a lookout for your killer. 

Everything felt straight out of a horror film, each moment of silence building up the suspense. You were surprised you didn’t wake up automatically due to your unusually high heart rate (or die of a heart attack). As you continued walking, you felt as if your footsteps were echoing a little louder than usual…

You stopped. Took one step forward, and the step ricocheted twice as loud through the walls. Another step. Another. You stopped again and felt the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. You didn’t think she would find you so soon. 

Without turning around to see if she was actually there, you bolted. The footsteps behind you breaking into a sprint as well as panic began to settle into your nerves. How does she always find you so fast? You let out a cry and tried upping the pace, not bothering to look back. “Leave me alone!” You cried out desperately, tired of these endless nightmares where you felt like you were in a constant death cycle. 

Rosaria didn’t say anything, but you knew she could hear you. Your mind whirling with ways of how to escape from her and mapping out possible hiding spots. The boiler room… you figured you could hide in there, almost no one ever knows how to get down there except for you and the custodians. 

You took a sharp corner and ran to the door that had a Do Not Enter sign. So, like the rebellious woman that you were, you entered anyway. 

It was darker than usual in the basement. The cinder block walls were covered in a thick mildew that made you cover your nose with your sleeve. You forgot how musty it was in here, but nevertheless you found yourself a nice hidden corner to tuck yourself in and hide. You didn’t know when your body would finally wake up, when this nightmare would finally end. All you could do was sit there and wait, hoping morning came before that woman could find you… 

You recalled the first time you encountered her in your dreams. She had some pretty nasty scarring on her face that came from what looked like a burn, however underneath all that rough exterior, you could make out a beautiful face underneath. 

Damn. For a woman as insane as she was, she was still attractive for your tastes. You rested your head on the metal of some pipe, scrunching up your nose at the thought. Of course you had a thing for scary women, but honestly now was not the time to crush on your killer… 

You heard that high-pitched screeching noise of her metal claws dragging against the wall again, causing you to tense up. She was close. You held your breath and tried to make yourself appear as small as possible, shoving yourself deeper into the corner that you wedged yourself in. The handle of the basement door twisted open, its click reaching your ears and making you freeze in place.

How the hell did she find the hidden door?

The woman’s heavy, intimidating footsteps slowly roamed around the basement. A small hum leaving those cracked lips of hers as she got closer and closer. Well, you were trapped. With your back against the wall, you knew you had no place to run and squeezed your eyes shut.

Her footsteps suddenly stopped, but they sounded quite close to where you were hiding. This was it, this was how you would die. In your dreams, in your sleep, where no one will be able to figure out the real cause of your death in the real world. 

Cold metal lightly traced the bottom of your chin, making you let out a whimper. A small, strained chuckle left the woman in front of you, her face stretching into a grin at the sight of you.

“Open your eyes, girl.” Her voice was raspy and grated, it was like she hadn’t spoken in a long time. Her grip tensed a bit more around your chin, making you yelp pathetically for fear of her claws nicking you. She chuckled at the yelp, gently brushing your cheek with a claw and silently ushering you to obey. 

You did, slowly opening your eyes and focusing on the woman in front of you. Rosaria…

She was just how you remembered her. That same, sleazy smile plastered on her disfigured face, the burn marks and scars running over her skin but failing to hide her beauty. Your biggest fear was standing right in front of you, cupping your face in her hands (claws?) and having you knelt pathetically on the floor for her. You hated it. Hated how pathetic you looked, hated how she stared down at you like the victor of the hunt. She had you cornered so easily and you hated it. 

“You look like you want to bite my nose off.” Rosaria chuckled, gently poking your nose with the tip of her finger. She would pinch it if she could, if not for the knives she had on her fingers. “Like a cornered rat…”

You glared at her, as that nickname was uncalled for. However, it seems that Rosaria didn’t see it as a bad thing, as she continued “petting” your face and making your nerves dance under her fingers. 

“--and to think that I found you in the boiler room too. Don’t look so upset, rats are quite the intelligent creatures, and it took several dreams of chasing you to finally have you in my grasp.”

You gulped as her bladed fingers slowly traced over your cheek, over your lips, and then down your neck. Maybe you were just imagining it, but her eyes almost looked…intrigued. Watching the way a small lump of saliva went down your throat from how nervous you were, admiring the goosebumps on your skin as she traced a blade over the groove of your neck, almost like she was about to slit it. 

“You are surprisingly calm for a woman who has several knives to her neck.” Rosaria comments, finally making eye contact with you again and smiling. “Or perhaps, you’re too scared to say anything to me?’

Well what can you say? Please let me live? Fuck you for ruining my sleep schedule? It didn’t matter anyways, your last words would be heard from a serial killer that only existed in your dreams. There really was no point in talking to her. 

Your lips formed a thin line and you closed your eyes, admitting defeat and knowing when you had been bested. She won. She caught you and wore you down, your body too tired to even fight back after all these days. 

Rosaria simply stared back at you for a while, her face blank as she watched you submit yourself.

“...Silly girl.” she chuckles, licking her scratched up lips and tilting your chin up to look at her. “Are you waiting for me to slit your throat? Gouge out those pretty eyes perhaps? Murder you?” She let out another dry laugh, watching the tears in your eyes make your pupils appear all the more glossy. Gods above you were cute. Quite pathetic, but very, very cute to the killer. “You’d be fun to murder, but much more fun to keep around.”

“...H-Huh?” the word came out quite dumbly, almost instinctively from how tired you were. 

“Don’t get me wrong. I quite enjoy hunting pretty girls like you,” she ran a blade across your head, almost like a caress. “You scream, you cry, it’s adorable. But…I like you, little rat.”

She grinned again when you subtly pouted at her. She would have to keep calling you a rat more often. “You are very resistant, staying awake for as long as you can, drinking all those caffeinated energy drinks so you don’t fall asleep.”

“H-How did you–”

She cut you off before you could question her more, one of her blades moving dangerously quick to shut your lips. She was amused at how quickly you froze up, fear settling in as you were afraid she would cut your lips. “Hush now…” she murmurs, lowering her body a bit so that she is directly in front of you. “Don’t question things beyond your understanding, girl. Your cute brain will hurt too much.” 

She laughed as she belittled you, treating you as if you were some child. You gritted your teeth and wanted to say something back, but the blade on your lips was still there. “Listen…I know how desperately you wish to wake up, to get away from me…” 

She leaned in and purred into your ear, a shiver running down your back.

“So why don’t I help you?” 

You nearly jolted at the implications, your face feeling hot from how much adrenaline was rushing through your veins. Rosaria smiled at your fear, before clarifying herself. “I won’t kill, or harm you in any way. To wake up from my dreams, your heart rate must exceed a certain amount, yes? Then your body will wake up on its own…”

Your breath hitched when you suddenly felt another set of blades trail down your stomach, her other hand making its way to your nether regions. 

“I can accelerate your heart rate in another way.”

Before you could ask her what she meant, she suddenly moved closer to you, her lips dangerously close to yours. A gasp left your lips, having never been so close to your killer before. She was even more attractive up close, every scar and burn on her face simply adding to her horrifying beauty. You couldn’t look away from her. 

“May I…?” she hummed. 

“What?”

“Kiss you.”

She was blunt with her answer, tracing your stomach under your shirt with a blade. “I promise you’ll feel even better than…” she laughed a little, “Say, getting killed.” 

Her humor was dark, but it was fitting for a woman like her. You wanted to say no at first, but the more you thought about it, the more you gazed upon her and her features, you felt a small part in the back of your mind say yes. 

“Okay…” you responded meekly, a bit hesitant but curious. Rosaria’s smile widened, pulling you so close your lips nearly brushed against her on the spot. “You’ll enjoy it.” 

She then pushed her lips against yours, the feeling bringing a burning feeling to your core. Her lips were dry and slightly cracked due to her scars, but even if it felt odd at first, you found yourself almost intrigued by the feeling. Her lips were warm. Somehow comforting in a way as she pushed you up against the wall and kissed you harder. 

Oh…how soft your lips were. Rosaria had long forgotten what soft, unscarred lips felt like. She wanted to touch them, kiss them, lick them, she was absolutely enamored by how sweet and plush they were. 

“Damn…you’re soft…” Rosaria murmured, her lips turning into a grin mid-kiss, before smushing them against you once more. “You might die of asphyxiation because of me instead…”

She chuckled at her dark jab of humor, before growling more hungrily into the kiss and wanting her tongue inside you. As you whimpered at how rough she was getting, you felt her hot tongue lick a stripe against your lips, seeking entry into your mouth. You obeyed, parting those lips she loved so much and allowing her to taste you from the inside. 

Rosaria loved the submission. Her eyes fluttering shut in pleasure while she groaned at the feeling of your tongue meekly pushing back. She parted away and licked the messy drool from the corner of your mouth, smirking at the absolutely dazed expression you gave her as it was clear this was your first time. “Never had another woman’s tongue in you before?” Rosaria hummed, gently tapping the outside of your cheek. “It’s okay, that means it’ll be easier to get your heart pumping twice as fast…”

She dove right back in for another kiss when you weren’t paying attention, dragging her blades down to your shorts. They were the thin kind, just comfortable sleeping shorts you often wore to bed, which made Rosaria all the more happier. “So thin and raunchy…I can’t believe you sleep in these every night.” She smiled and used the tip of her blades to tear the fabric with ease, the sound ripping through your ears and causing goosebumps to form on your thighs. Rosaria pulled away from you, licking her lips as the tatters of what used to be your shorts hung from your knees. 

The woman’s eyes narrowed upon your choice of underwear for the night. Simple, yet very cute cotton panties that barely covered your virgin cunt. She didn’t miss the way your arousal so shamelessly seeped through the fabric of the underwear, clearly turned on by what she was doing to you. “Ah…so wet, hm? Never realized you got all hot and bothered by serial killers?” She grinned at your embarrassment and pulled the elastic on the waistband with her finger. 

It seemed she was gauging how far the elastic would stretch before it inevitably snapped under the sharpness of her blade, enjoying the thrill of seeing more and more of your privates. 

“So pretty and hot.” Rosaria rasped, the growl in her throat prominent as she finally tore your panties to shreds. You let out a gasp and tensed at the sight of her finger blades so close to your cunt, dangerously close as something so sharp next to something so sensitive was making you scared. 

Scared…? Or aroused? You honestly had no idea as that small pulse of heat in your core was difficult to gauge. 

“Mmm…spread your legs for me, pretty girl,” Rosaria hummed, ushering for you to lay on your back and prop yourself up using your arms. You were in such a vulnerable position, legs spread and stomach exposed, looking like a little rodent that had been ensnared under the claws of the carnivore. “Have you ever been eaten out?” 

Your eyes widened and you shook your head no, having only seen that sort of thing in pornos and 18+ films. Rosaria smirked and suddenly got down on her knees in front of you, opening her scarred lips and extending her tongue out almost teasingly. “Well, you’re about to experience it now.” 

She grabbed your hips, ensuring you wouldn’t squirm away –which was pointless because you had nowhere to squirm to– and caged you underneath her mouth. It really did feel like you were about to be eaten by a predator, the way she so hungrily drooled at the sight of you twitching so needily. After savoring the sight of you for a few more moments, Rosaria was finally ready, letting out an almost animalistic growl and licking up your inner thighs.

Just like the rest of her, her tongue was quite rough. Except it wasn’t as uncomfortable as you thought, her rough tongue slowly inching its way to the delicate muscle of your clit, making you arch your back a little. “Mm…down.” Rosaria commanded firmly, making your back hit the floor again as she licked small ministrations getting closer to your heat. With each lick, each hot breath from her mouth, you felt your pussy throb with need, a choked gasp leaving your throat. 

Rosaria smiled to herself at how desperate you looked, having successfully gotten you to submit and feel the pleasures she had to offer you. She took one last look at your pathetically lustful face, before focusing on her next target; your clit. 

She leaned in and finally placed her tongue on your swollen clit, making you jolt and whine at the sensation. Rosaria had to hold you down again, groaning and getting impatient with you for being so jumpy. “Down.” She growled again, gently nipping at your clit as punishment for disobeying her orders. 

You cried out, legs shaky from the stimulation that Rosaria was giving you. She went down again, slowly licking long stripes across your clit before wrapping her lips around it and sucking. Though the noises she was making were raunchy and embarrassing for you, you couldn’t deny the satisfaction she gave you whenever she paid attention to the areas you needed the most. 

Your body heat only rose more as Rosaria traced her tongue more over your folds, sliding the tip in between them and making your heart rate spike. The more gasps and whines you let out, the more Rosaria slobbered over your cunt, getting hungrier and hungrier for your orgasm. 

“Oh…shit.” Rosaria grumbled to herself, slotting her tongue deeper and getting drunk on the taste. “You taste really good…” 

Her tongue continued to make wet slurping sounds, trying to draw you closer to your orgasm. You had never gotten wet or orgasmed before in your life, so to have your virginity taken by a nightmarish serial killer was almost pathetic when you put it into words–

Oh, but what the hell. She felt so good and you couldn’t bring it in yourself to be mad anymore. Your hands made their way to Rosaria’s hair and tangled into her wine-colored hair, tugging on them and bringing her closer to your cunt. She let out an almost breathless sigh at that, smushing more of her face into your thighs. 

“Didn’t think you had it in you to do that to me.” She groaned, enjoying the way you grabbed onto her short hair. “You have guts I’ll give you that.” 

She let you hold onto her like a lifeline, pushing her tongue further and watching you cry out in ecstasy. You didn’t think her mouth would feel so good, and Rosaria didn’t think your pussy would taste this good. Both of you were entangled in a world of pleasure with each other, your whines further spurring Rosaria on and making her want to see you orgasm for the first time. You felt your body getting close, your heart pumping wildly in your chest and making you feel as if you were about to burst. 

“Coming so soon…?” Rosaria hummed, that same sleazy smile stretching on her lips. “Quite pathetic, but it’s adorable.” 

You would normally have something snarky to quip back at her, but the only thing that left your lips was a half-strangled moan. She continued pushing you, edging you with her tongue as she brushed over your entrance with those scarred lips of hers. This, combined with the sensation of her thick tongue maneuvering deep inside you was enough to make you see white. Your walls tightened and your thighs instinctively clamped around Rosaria’s face, causing one of her claws to accidentally nick you in the process.

It didn’t hurt, if anything it felt more like a paper cut, but Rosaria was so stunned by your reaction that she didn’t expect you to suddenly orgasm on her tongue. A loud, needy whine escaping your throat and making her own pussy throb at how much you enjoyed her. As your hot cum spilled out onto Rosaria’s face for the very first time, your heart rate had accelerated at speeds that you didn’t even feel when being chased by Rosaria previously. 

You felt your body go numb from the aftershocks of your very first orgasm, the dreamy world around you starting to fade. 

“Good girl…” Rosaria said under her breath, kissing your clit for the last time, before you closed your eyes. “Next time wear some sexier panties the next time you go to sleep.”

You blacked out after that. 

You jolted from your bed, covered in sweat and with your heart hammering in your chest. Your breathing was unsteady and you felt like you had gone on the wildest roller coaster in your life, the adrenaline still coursing through your bloodstream from the aftermath of what occurred in your dream. 

The cracks of daylight began to seep in through your bedroom window, telling you that you had slept through the night and that it was now morning. The world of reality suddenly didn’t feel too real to you anymore, and you wondered if the dream was a genuine dream that you had, or if it really was the ghost of Rosaria haunting your nightmares again. 

A dull ache made itself known to you between your legs, causing you to wince. As you moved the blankets off of you, you were shocked to see the absolute mess you had left on your sheets; a giant wet spot which formed at where your pussy was, and tatters of your shorts and underwear left scattered around your bed. However, what shocked you most of all, was the small line of red that you saw on the outer part of your thigh, a small trickle of blood that didn’t hurt, nor did you feel when you went back to reality. 

If the mark was anything to go by, you knew that these dreams were definitely real, and that Rosaria was real too if this was the case. You gently traced the red mark with your finger, but didn’t make an effort to clean it up, too distracted with your own thoughts to think straight. 

Slowly, you slide out of bed, but not before looking at the can of a half drunken energy drink sitting on your nightstand. 

You looked at the drink, sloshed the liquid inside it to see how much was in it, before throwing it out in the bin. 

[renjunphile]

freedom ain't nothing but missing you ☆ jung sungchan

ᯓ★ WORD COUNT: 13.6k

ᯓ★ PAIRING: riize's jung sungchan x female!reader

ᯓ★ TAGS & WARNINGS: college!au, second chance romance, college antics - partying, drinking, brief mentions of vomiting, reader has mad commitment issues you wanna punch her in the face, pining

ᯓ★ SYNOPSIS: the last time you saw him was when you looked over your shoulder at his weeping figure one last time at the airport. four seasons have passed and your heart tightens at the sight of his smiling face, wishing it was directed at you.

ᯓ★ NOTES: what would a renjunphile fic be without a second chance romance element ! sorry it's my favourite trope i can never let go of it :') all my stories are really the same now ! also me *handshake* using aespa members as side characters lol at the start of story, y/n and hyung line are going into 4th year, sohee and seunghan into 3rd year and anton into 2nd year.

☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★

You hear your best friend's voice before you see her. If you had just looked a little more to the left, you would've spotted her immediately anyway as she waved a large piece of pink card-stock with your name displayed in a glittery explosion.

"Y/N! Over here!" she cooed at you loudly from behind the barrier, "Y/N!!!"

You quickly weave around the other passengers as expertly as you could with your trolley of bags, but Minjeong is quick to meet you at the exit. She drops the sign onto your cluster of suitcases and wraps her arms around your neck, squealing into your ear with glee.

"I missed you too, Jeong," you giggled at her embrace, "I told you that you didn't have to get me!"

She scoffed at you as she pulled away, "What kind of best friend would I be if I didn't welcome you back home after a year away! You said your parents couldn't come and meet you, so I came!"

You think back to your conversation just before you got on the god-awful long flight with her, recalling how your parents thought it was too far for them to drive up from your hometown when they were already coming the week after for your birthday.

"Thanks babe," you thanked her sincerely, bumping your hip against hers while the two of you began to push the cart together. You couldn't believe that you were able to pack your whole life in just two large suitcases and one small one, "By the way, how are we getting back into the city?"

Minjeong didn't drive; she'd rather walk to her destination in the wind, snow, hail or storm than learn how to get behind the wheel. She was a self proclaimed "passenger princess", which you admired and envied from the way your friends (including her) used you like their own personal taxi service when you had your car. Sadly for your friends, you were not hesitant when it came to selling your car at the end of your second year of university, just weeks before you packed up your life and moved to New York for the new school year. While you sometimes missed your slightly beat up Hyundai on the days that you had to get on the subway with arms full of groceries, you couldn't justify the purchase of a car again for your final year of university.

"I assisted the help of a special someone," Minjeong winked at you happily, watching your face contort in horror immediately, "Wait, no. Not that one. I promise."

You let out a sigh of relief that you didn't even know you were holding back as you cramped together in the car park's elevator. There were many people you haven't seen in a year. There were many people you've missed and wished to see. But you didn't think you could face him right now, at this very second.

"Who is it?" you prodded curiously, but she just gave you an innocent smile and pushed the cart out of the elevator and towards a shiny car about 30 steps from the doors

You couldn't make out the figure sat in the driver's seat, no matter how you craned your head until he got out and faced you straight on.

"Chanyoung!" you gasped in surprise, welcoming him in a tight hug, "Since when did you learn how to drive?"

"Just this year, noona. Welcome home!" he chuckled from above you. You wondered if he grew any more since the last time you saw him, cause it definitely felt like it.

Chanyoung was Minjeong's little cousin that began his studies at your university as you were leaving. Despite that, he grew to be a familiar presence as he lived nearby and always dropped by the apartment you shared with his cousin. He was truly one of your favourite people since he was so sweet and caring.

Before you could finish your greetings with Chanyoung, Minjeong had already loaded your (very heavy) bags into the trunk of Chanyoung's new car and had collapsed in the back seat, "Let's go guys. I'm sure Y/N's tired, but you can sit in the front."

Without another word, she dropped her head to the window and began to doze off. You clambered into the front seat and gave Chanyoung a thumbs up to head out.

"How was your first year at university, 'Ton?" you asked.

"Super good, actually. It was really helpful to know all of your friends before I entered so I never felt alone or lost or anything," he recounted the times that you missed, "By the way, thank you for letting me stay in your room. My first year definitely wouldn't be the same if I still lived at home."

You shared a two-bedroom apartment with Minjeong just off campus during your second year at university after meeting her on the first day of first year and becoming fast friends. You had warned her that you probably would have to find a temporary replacement while you were halfway across the world, but when word got out to her little cousin, he begged to take over your room while you were gone. Since he lived in Seoul already, his parents weren't very willing to let him test his luck and go into dorms with a stranger, but they were much more open to letting him live with his older and allegedly more responsible older cousin until he found friends to live with for the next year.

"No worries; I'd rather it was you than a stranger," you shrugged, "Who are you living with again?"

"Sohee and Seunghan," he tapped his finger on the steering wheel to the beat of the song quietly playing on the radio, "You know them, right?"

Your heart squeezed again at the thought of the boys you got to know in the year before you left, "Yeah, a bit. Haven't spoken to them in a long time, though. I hope it's not awkward to see everyone again, otherwise I'll just lock myself in my room until I graduate."

"Everyone misses you, noona," Anton assured you softly, "I know that for sure."

You opened your mouth to say what your heart desired, but closed it again hesitantly as your brain came to the rescue of your emotions. Anton flashed a look at you from the driver's seat, but chose not to comment when he saw the conflicted expression on your face.

"Tell me about your time in New York," his soft voice pulled you gently out of the mess that was unravelling in your head.

You gave him a small, knowing smile and began recounting your favourite memories and your life in the city that never sleeps.

☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★

Around 4PM, you waved your parents away as they pulled out from the car park under your apartment complex. They had a pretty long drive back to your hometown with work early the next day, but you were grateful they made the drive up in the morning to celebrate your birthday with you. You had taken them to your previous favourite Italian restaurant for lunch, but after tasting more authentic cuisine in New York in the predominantly Italian neighbourhoods, you weren't sure if the restaurant was as good as you remembered it to be. Still, you enjoyed the lunch and catching up with your parents with what had happened in the last 6 months since they came to visit you abroad. With a hug and a kiss goodbye, they were driving away from you once again.

When you returned back upstairs to your apartment, Minjeong was waiting for you patiently on the couch with her legs and arms crossed and a mischievous smirk on her face.

"What?" you groaned in anticipation.

"I picked out an outfit for you while you were out. It's on the bed. Get ready," she grinned, clapping her hands together, "We have dinner plans. Meet back here in an hour and a half."

"That's really not necessary, Jeong," you pleaded, but she just turned her nose up at you, reiterating her instructions.

To be honest, you had planned to spend the rest of your birthday cuddled up on the couch with your best friend, probably watching a chick-flick or a horror or both. She stomped away to her room and you fearfully tiptoed to yours. Knowing her, she would have picked out something a bit more showy than you would like.

However, you were pleasantly surprised at the dress laid out on your bed, with a note in her handwriting. It wasn't something she picked out of your closet- it was a dress she had bought for you. It was a flowing mini dress with ruffles extending from the skirt and a corset bodice you knew would flatter you. You sent her a grateful text and began to freshen up your hair and makeup from your morning outfit.

From your outfit, you guessed it would be in a sit-down restaurant that was more refined than a bbq restaurant whose smoke would cling to your hair, skin and clothes for days. However, knowing Minjeong, you couldn't put anything past her. After all, she was the one that convinced you to drink soju with her at a stall on the side of a dirt road in your floor length silk dresses after your first year ball. An hour and a half later, you had curled and then re-curled your hair, did your eyeliner twice and marvelled at how the light pink dress your best friend bought you fit you like a glove. When you heard Minjeong calling out your name, you were finishing buckling the heeled Mary Janes that you loved and made sure that everything you could need for the night was in your purse.

In the week you had been back in Seoul, all you had done was unpack your suitcases and make the room feel like yours again. School wasn't starting for another week, so all the friends that you tried to meet up with told you that they were still in their hometowns, due to come a few days before the fall semester began.

"Urgh, I knew it would look amazing on you!" Minjeong analysed you in awe. Trust the fashion design and marketing major to have an eye for these types of things.

"Are you going to tell me where we're going?" you eyed her suspiciously as she looped her arm around yours and dragged you out of your shared apartment.

"You can find out when we get there," Minjeong tapped on her phone, "The taxi's outside, quick!"

The destination set for the taxi was somewhere you weren't familiar with. The street name definitely didn't ring a bell. Perhaps a new restaurant had opened in that area while you were gone and Minjeong was just trying to catch you up to the city again.

Speaking of the girl beside you, she spent the whole ride with her eyebrows furrowed together as she furiously tapped away on her phone. You wouldn't say that you were a particularly nosy person (lie), but her privacy screen protector made it impossible for you to see who she was texting. It was probably Heeseung anyway- her on-again, off-again boyfriend of four years, but more like two.

"Are you guys fighting again?" you teased.

"Huh?" she looked up at you in confusion and her face flashed with recognition, "Yeah, yeah. It's nothing. Don't worry, but look we're basically here."

Apparently 'here' meant on the street that was lined by endless blocks of high rise flats and a few convenience stores dotted about.

"Did you make me dress up to eat ramen at a GS25?" you prodded your finger in the direction of the store.

Minjeong laughed heartily, "No silly! I made you dress up to eat ramen at a 7/11!" she pointed at the stripy neon sign at the opposite end of the street. She captured your arm in hers once more, tugging to make you walk with her, "Just trust me. It's the hottest place in town."

You don't think that the hottest place in town was Block 7 of this high rise complex, but you say nothing as she buzzed for apartment 08 and caught the lift up to the 4th floor. Minjeong was known to find all the hottest spots in town, so you really try to keep it to yourself as she knocked on the door that looked far too much like an apartment door, including the mail next to the door mat.

She didn't even wait for someone to answer, just pushed down on the handle and nudged for you to enter into the darkness.

"Surprise!"

You clasped a hand over your mouth as light flooded the room and a group of about 20 people screamed at you. From behind you, Minjeong was cheering, pushing you further into what now seemed to be an apartment instead of a restaurant. With 20 pairs of eyes staring at you all at once, it took you a few seconds to shake yourself out of the shock and recognise anyone. The place was decorated with banners and balloons of your favourite colours, with steaming food on the dining table in the corner of the room.

"Happy birthday! Welcome home!" Karina, Yizhuo and Giselle were the first to crush you ina hug.

"We're sorry we declined your plans to hang out," Yizhuo pouted, "We thought we would give away the surprise that Jeong planned if we saw you."

You waved a dismissive hand at your younger friend, "It's okay. This is so sweet of you guys!" You felt Minjeong join the embrace.

"We thought you deserved it since we didn't get to spend your birthday with you last year," Giselle added on as the group pulled away from you.

Last year, you had spent your birthday alone, wandering around New York City for the first time and procuring free birthday goods from all the establishments that offered it.

"Happy birthday, Y/N!" you heard a deeper voice coo at you as you were pulled away from your girls. You were suddenly face to face with one of your closer guy friends from before.

"Eunseok!" you accepted his side hug, "Hi!"

"Welcome home! We all missed you so much," at his words, you dart your eyes around the room and find 5 boys hiding behind Eunseok's tall figure. They each hug you one by one, ending with Chanyoung who gives you the cheekiest grin.

"Welcome to our apartment," he grinned proudly, gesturing at himself, Sohee and Seunghan.

"Where'd you get all this money from, huh? I should've charged you more rent," you teased, eyeing the modern, open-plan space. The floor to ceiling windows on one wall of the room with a view over the river really sold you on the idea that this was an expensive apartment.

"You can throw as many parties as you like here," Shotaro giggled, "We know we're going to!"

"Yeah, whose birthday is it next?" Wonbin pondered.

"Oh! It's-" Eunseok smacked Sohee in the stomach before he could finish his words, laughing nervously.

The 6 boys in front of you watched in despair as your smile fell ever so slightly before you recovered it again.

"I'll go say hi to everyone else," you murmured softly, catching Wonbin's regretful face.

"Y/N, he's-"

"It's okay, Bin," you smiled softly, ignoring the pounding in your heart and head, "I wouldn't have expected him to come. He probably hates me, right?"

You turned around without letting any of the boys say another word, joining your group of friends from your dance club. While your friendship with them was something you treasured deeply, you fell out of touch with them in your year abroad quite quickly. You didn't put much thought into the people that did or didn't keep in contact, considering you were focused on making friends and trying to live in the moment abroad. Besides, you were coming back anyway. What's a year in the grand scheme of things?

Your heart panged at that thought, but you tried to push it away as Jisung tackled you in a tight hug. Ryujin and Yeji had to physically peel the towering kid away from you as you dove into conversation about what you had spent the last year doing.

As the conversation came to an end, your eyes fell on the 6 boys stood around in a circle, whispering hushedly and stealing quick glances at you. When you caught Seunghan's eye, he just chuckled nervously and dismissed you, but the sight of them, incomplete, caused your heart to tense up.

All the most important people in your university life was in this room. All, except one.

"Jeong, I'm just gonna catch some air. Just quickly," you tapped your best friend on the back, just before waving and greeting her potentially current boyfriend Heeseung.

"Oh, I'll come with!" she began to untangle herself from his embrace, but you just clicked your teeth and shook your head.

"No, it's okay. I can go alone; I'll be quick. Just buzz me up when I ring?" you requested. She gave you an unsure look, but settled back into Heeseung's form.

Ignoring the stares on your back, you ran down the two flights of stairs and pushed open the door to outside. Since it was the start of fall and 6pm, the sun was beginning to go down. The sky wasn't yet pink and purple, but instead glowing an ethereal gold, bathing you in light rays. You fiddled with the phone in your hand, grasping it tightly as you debated what to do. His contact was staring up at you, almost taunting you to do something with it. Call it? Message it? Delete it?

Your finger hovered over the phone symbol. Surely he'd want to hear from you, right? The way you ended things wasn't... satisfactory. It gave neither of you closure. You needed to speak to him, right?

Fuck it, you think to yourself. It's your birthday. You can do whatever you like. As you pressed the call button, you shakily lifted the phone up to your ears, counting the rings.

Ring ring, ring ring, ring-

"Y/N?" his voice is familiar, soothing the nerves that plagued you at the thought of him letting your call go unanswered.

"Sungchan," you began hesitantly, "I'm not sure if anyone told you, but I'm uh- I'm back in Seoul."

"Y/N," he repeated, making you aware of the sounds of his feet hitting the pavement through the phone and his laboured, shaky breaths.

"Shit, are you busy? Am I interrupting something?" your stomach folded in on itself as you realised he didn't answer your statement. He was probably at the gym- Minjeong told you he'd taken that up in your absence.

"Y/N," he breathed out again, the patters of his feet coming to a stop, "Look up."

You tore your eyes away from your feet- the only thing that was distracting you from internalising too hard that you were calling your kind-of ex-boyfriend.

As you lifted your eyes up, a tall figure came into view across the street from you. Sungchan was stood panting, one hand holding his phone up to his ear and the other holding a bouquet of flowers.

"Sungchan?" the call dropped as the figure took a step into the street, hastily running over to stop just shy from you.

"I don't hate you," it's the first time you're hearing his voice in one year, "The boys- they said that you said- I wanted to come, but I didn't know if you wanted me here."

He's trying to maintain eye contact, but he's clutching the flowers to his chest as he pants. You were at ease enough to chuckle, "Sungchan, did you run here?"

In this light, his eyes shined and sparkled. You've missed looking into them and getting lost all night in his gaze. You missed the way he would look at you like you were the most precious thing on earth to him.

He flashed you a toothy smile, "Mhm, didn't want to make you wonder. Just wanted to tell you that."

"A text would've sufficed."

He analysed your expression and took one large step back, "Ah, am I reading this wrong? Did you not want me to come?"

You took one step forward, "I'm sorry I didn't call as soon as I got back."

Relief flooded Sungchan's whole body as he stretched his arm to offer the bouquet to you, "It's whatever. Happy birthday, Y/N."

"Thanks, Sungchan," you smiled sincerely, "Do you want to head up now together? I'm kind of hungry and I think there's pizza."

"Yeah, sure!" his face is practically lit up at your invitation, but he hesitated to follow you, "Y/N?"

"Yeah?"

"I missed you," he whispered shyly, "Just so you know."

☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★

You met Sungchan three weeks into your first year of university. Minjeong's boyfriend Heeseung had joined the soccer team in the first week and their first game came around quickly. The two of you were like two peas in a pod, bundled up together in matching scarves bearing your university's colours and logo, shivering on the school's bleachers.

Your friend's eyes were trained on her boyfriend from home, but you had the lucky status of being able to cast your eyes on each player and make your judgement. The game had been going on for about 30 minutes with your school being 2-0 up. Both goals had been scored by the team's #23, a scrawny tall boy whose name you could just about make out from your distance.

"Jung's pretty good," you hummed to your friend.

"#23? His name's Sungchan, I think. Hee says he's really nice. Want me to get you two acquainted?" Minjeong wiggled her eyebrows at you, but you rolled your eyes.

You were determined to find love as naturally as possible at university. Back home, you'd been on a few first days with a few guys set up through your friends, but they were all the same to you- not cute enough, not interesting enough. You hadn't been desperate to get into a relationship, especially knowing that you were going to apply to spend your third year abroad if you kept your grades up. But when Sungchan slid in to the seat beside yours for your shared lecture meeting your GenEd requirements, you had lost all semblance of that.

"Hey, you're Y/N, right?" he had offered his hand out to you, "I'm Sungchan. I've seen you around with Heeseung's girlfriend and I've seen you in this lecture a few times."

You had taken his hand in yours, gripping firmly and giving him a shy smile, "Yeah, that's me. Nice to meet you,"

When he continued to sit beside you for another few weeks, asking you questions in hushed whispers and explaining concepts to you when you looked lost, you said nothing. When he started asking if you wanted to study in the library together in your two hour gap after your shared lecture, you said nothing. When library study-seshes turned into studying at a cafe where he'd buy you a drink, you said nothing. When that turned to just two hours of the two of you chatting and getting to know all about each other's lives with your laptops abandoned on the table, you said nothing.

It then turned into butterflies slowly erupting in your stomach as his face lit up the second he saw you in the theatre. It turned into your heart beating a little faster whenever his hand brushed against yours on the walk to the café you now frequented with him. It turned into finding comfort in him as he slowly began introducing you to his best friends, who would tease you endlessly. It turned into nervous giggles and pink cheeks as you spent the whole fall and winter denying anything was going on with you and Jung Sungchan.

When spring of your freshman year began to roll in, Sungchan had mustered up the courage to take your hand in his whenever your fingers did graze each other on the walks. Whenever you'd look up at him to question it, he'd just smile slyly and look off into the distance, quickly changing the topic before you could address it.

Spring break had you realising how much of a presence he was in your life. Walking through the parks of your hometown felt melancholy without him by your side. Studying at a cafe alone was productive, but you would miss the way that every time you looked up from your screen, he'd already be staring back at you, a soft smile permanently etched on his face.

Cherry blossom season was your favourite time of the year. So when you returned to your campus and found out the main square was lined with these bloomed trees, you had dragged Sungchan there immediately, even if he had just arrived from his hometown.

The joy in your eyes must have been so evident, reflecting back in his eyes as sparkles. When Sungchan had placed his hands on your shoulders to stop you bouncing, and then leaned his head down closer to yours, you didn't stop it. You had long been used to the way he made your heart race. It was a welcome feeling as he softly planted his lips on yours for the first time under the falling petals.

☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★

"Y/N," the sharp voice plucked you from your daydream, a bag making a thud on the wooden table, "What are you thinking about?"

"Huh?" your eyes focused in on Karina taking a seat in front of you at the café, "Nothing, nothing. Did you just have class?"

"My class ended early and I was just walking to my next class in 15, but I saw you through the window looking all sad and aloof," she explained, her eyebrows drawn together in worry, "Are you okay, girl?"

You met Karina with Minjeong at a club in the first week of your freshman year. She had been throwing up in the toilet with the door open and no one holding her hair, so Minjeong did that while you rubbed her back and cooed reassuring words. After confessing that she was getting drunk because she had just broken up with her high school boyfriend, the two of you captured her in your little group.

"It's just weird being back," you admitted.

She pouted at you sadly, "Aw, don't tell me you like your New York friends better than us?"

"No!" you squealed, laughing, "It's not that. I love you guys. It's just weird being back with Sungchan."

Her eyes morphed into a mix between empathy and sympathy, "Aw, babe. I'm sorry; I know it's weird. Whenever I meet my friends back home, I get a weird feeling seeing my ex there too. I imagine it must be worse for you since you ended on better terms than me and Mark did. It must be confusing, huh?"

Out of all your friends, Karina was the best one to be having this conversation with. While you loved Minjeong more than anything in the world, she was famous for breaking up with her boyfriend for random spats, but calling him and asking to get back together the very next moment she missed him. Absolutely no sense of longing in that department.

"I just don't know how I should act around him. Do we just go back to being friends like in first year? Should I pursue him again? Why does it feel like we're strangers to each other?"

During your party, you had thought Sungchan would stay by your side, but he quickly excused himself to join his friends and only gave you reluctant smiles through the night. Where had all the confidence disappeared to?

You saw him one more time in the two weeks after your party at the library. Eunseok had booked a large private study room at the library and texted you to come. Sungchan was already there when you came, his head stuck in a textbook. Other than shooting you a greeting and sliding the box of cookies in your direction, you got nothing else from him in three hours.

"You just need to get the worst of it over and talk to him. He must be just as confused as you are, to be honest," Karina sighed.

"He hasn't found someone else, right?" you asked reluctantly. Even if he had, it would have been your own fault anyway after the way you left him for dust at the airport.

Karina scoffed and rolled her eyes, "The only thing he's found in the past year is the gym. Taro says he's gone crazy. You know- post break-up glow up? He's become quite the heartbreaker, actually. All these girls started to notice him, but he never gives any of them the time of day."

You fight the scowl threatening to display on your face, "Oh, really?"

"Please, Y/N, he was always going to wait for you. I'd never seen a man so down bad and I know Heeseung." she scrunched up her face at the thought. Heeseung was famously untouchable by the girls at university, no matter how much they threw themselves at the football captain. Anyone else would be embarrassed by getting broken up with by their girlfriend every couple of months, but Heeseung always took it with stride and came crawling back with on his hands and knees towards her every time.

"Hm, you're wrong. I don't think anyone can beat that man," the memory of him scoring a hat-trick in the regional final with the words 'Take me back, Minjeong' written on his undershirt that he flashed while he celebrated the last goal cemented his position of number 1 loverboy in your mind.

"Potentially, but Sungchan drove four hours overnight to your hometown when your pet hamster died to comfort you in the summer between first and second year," Karina reminded you, "He charmed your strict parents so hard that by the time the night came, they let him stay in your room with you!"

"He brought expensive melons," you rolled your eyes, "I don't even know where he got those from at 2 in the morning."

"Exactly. Even I wouldn't gift my in-laws that expensive of a fruit no matter how much I wanted to impress them," she countered, "Just talk to Sungchan, I beg. I don't want to watch you go through the whole will they-won't they song and dance of first year again. I gotta go to class, but text him now, yeah?"

You dumbly nodded at her instruction, watching her race out of the cafe and waving goodbye through the large window. Everyone always teased you about how much Sungchan seemed to like you. They never knew that you were equally as smitten.

☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★

You made it to the café before Sungchan. Unfortunately, that just gave you more time to panic and stress over what you were going to say to him after all this time. Your chocolate frappe and his iced americano sat in front of you, slowly melting in the unrelenting sun. You asked to meet at 1 and there was still 5 minutes 'til then, but Sungchan had the habit of being early. That was one thing he passed down to you.

"Y/N," Sungchan gave you a gentle smile as he slid into the seat across you. It was hard to meet his eye, but you held eye contact for as long as you could (not very long) before you tore your eyes away and slid his drink over to him. He thanked you sincerely and took a sip, giving you the chance to speak first.

"Thanks for meeting me, Sungchan," you began nervously, "I know it's been, um, confusing recently- at least for me. I just wanted to catch up and see where we are or get some closure, I guess. I feel like you deserve more of an explanation than what I was able to give you."

In an instant, you're transported back to one week before your flight to New York in the comfort of his bed. You had tearfully explained how hard you thought it was going to be to do long distance even when you had spent a better part of the situationship deluding yourself and each other that it would work out not matter what.

You don't think you could ever forget the look of heartbreak plastered on his face as you spilled your worries to him that night. You don't think you'd ever forgive yourself for making his body shake with sobs, pleading you to think about it again.

That's why it's hard to face him right now- because of all the shame and guilt.

"To be honest, Y/N, you told me before we got involved that you were doing your year abroad and that you didn't think it would be in the best interest of either of us to be in a new relationship by the time you left," Sungchan hummed, swirling his straw in the ice of his drink.

Suddenly, it's a year and a half earlier in your head as you and Sungchan celebrated and 'not really 1 year anniversary' because you two refused to label yourselves as a couple despite functioning identically to one. You remembered the cake, the flowers, the candles that you blew out together.

"I feel like I led you on," you admitted.

"Maybe," he shrugged, "I don't feel that way. You didn't want to get into a relationship, but I kept pursuing you anyway until you fell in- until you liked me," he coughed.

Your demeanour softened as the words slip from his mouth. When Sungchan tried to utter those three words to you at the airport for the first time and you stopped him before you could, you instantly knew you were making a mistake. But by the time you had gotten through security and settled yourself at your gate, you had manipulated yourself to think otherwise.

"Stop being so nice about it, Sungchan. I did you so wrong," you frowned deeply at him, picking at your nails in nerves. Your heart and stomach honestly ached in displeasure every time you thought about what happened.

"We made choices, and I guess we're better people now for it," Sungchan returned a tight-lipped smile, turning his head to stare out of the window and into the street.

When you left, Sungchan was shy and awkward with his limbs flying all over the place and never seeming like he had control over them. His hair fell around his eyes in an adorable cut and it would take him a while to muster up the courage to look anyone in the eye. That wasn't to say he wasn't a friendly and amazing guy- just one that had to warm up to you.

The Sungchan you returned to walked with confidence and seemed like he was now sure of himself. He kept his head up, initiated conversations with people and just moved through life more freely. You can't help but think that you were the one thing holding him back.

You didn't know what to reply with. Were you really better off? You had spent the past year trying to enjoy your life abroad, but grovelling with guilt for the life back home that you left.

Before you can open your mouth, someone beats you to it.

"Channie?"

The affectionate nickname falling from another person's mouth instantly conjures a bitter taste in your mouth. Your heads snap towards the guest standing at the edge of the table, smiling down at the man in front of you.

"Ah, I knew it was you," she beamed brightly, "Haven't had the chance to talk to you- how was your summer?"

Sungchan's eyes flickered to you so quick that you almost didn't catch it. You could tell he was hesitant in his reply, "It was good, Jiyoon. How was yours?"

She clapped her hands a little and nearly let out a squeal, "Awesome! Went to that mountain you recommended climbing! You're playing at the game tomorrow, right?"

Game? Oh, he was still on the soccer team, of course.

"Yeah," his grin was lopsided and awkward as he turned to you, "Um, Jiyoon, this is Y/N. Y/N, this is Jiyoon. We met in class last year."

"Nice to meet you," she extended a hand down to you, which you reluctantly shook with a terse smile. You could practically feel the uncertainty and jealousy bubbling in the pits of your stomach as she continued, "Me and Channie were seat mates in our lectures last year! It's such a shame we don't share any this year."

The feeling is so unfamiliar that it makes you uncomfortable seeing the way she grinned and looked at him. He used to look at you like that too- the longing and the pining in the gaze when you wouldn't give into him. It was clear they weren't dating, but it felt like there was something more.

"Nice to meet you too," you clutched your drink tight in your hand as you picked up your bag, "I actually have to run somewhere so why don't you take a seat and catch up? Seems like it's due. Bye Sungchan."

In your rush away from the table, Sungchan caught your wrist again, "Y/N, don't-"

Once again, you'll never forget the face of heartbreak written all over his face as you pulled your wrist away with a sigh, "Thanks for speaking to me, Sungchan. Good luck for tomorrow."

You don't dare look back as the bubbly Jiyoon slid into the chair you were once occupying.

☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★

Minjeong has her arms crossed in your doorway with a pointed look directed at you.

"Why aren't you ready?" she squinted her eyes menacingly at your slumbering position on the bed, "We're going to be late! You're lucky I asked Sunghoon to save us two seats."

You pulled the covers over your head, "I'm not going. Leave without me."

The little pitter-patter of her footsteps on your hardwood floors echoes before she ripped the sheets away from you, "And why is that?"

You made grabby-hands at the duvet, but she tossed it behind her. You gave her your best innocent look and produced a cough, "I'm sick?"

Minjeong scoffed loudly and tugged on your arm, "I'm not taking no for an answer, missy. This is your final first game of the season! And we're playing our rival team, so show some school spirit."

"But 'Jeong," you whined in protest as she threw open your wardrobe and began to search for your school merch.

"You don't have to see him if you don't want to," she sighed empathetically, "We'll run away as soon as it's done, but you loved school football games, right?"

It's about the time you realised that Minjeong wasn't going to let up on her insisting, so you slipped on the crop top and jacket with your school's logos and shimmied into the skirt she was making you wear, despite the temperature outside. Arm in arm, but in measured silence, the two of you fast-walked to the football arena that was only 15 minutes from your house. Thankfully the game hadn't yet started when you two clambered into the seats between Sunghoon, Heeseung's friend, and Anton.

"It's nice to see you again, Y/N!" Sunghoon grinned, taking you into a hug, "Did you miss Korea while you were gone?"

"Of course, but it was nice to experience a new culture for a bit," you replied, trying your hardest to keep your eyes off the pitch where the teams were getting into their positions, "How's the skating?"

"I won college nationals this year," he said proudly, to which you clapped and congratulated him. He was truly one of the school's pride and joy, but he didn't want to take it any further than collegiate sport, "Anyway, are you going to the after-party later? It's at the Rho Zeta house."

Minjeong's face planted into your right shoulder, "We are!"

"Jeong! You said we're leaving straight after the game!" you protested, turning your body to face her's.

"Yeah, to the party," she cackled, slapping an arm around her cousin's shoulders, "Tell her, Chanyoung. We're going to the party, right?"

His eyes suddenly turned pleading and you knew you were doomed for, "C'mon, Y/N! It's the first party of the year win or lose so you have to come."

Sunghoon looked at you with expectant eyes too and you honestly believed they were about three seconds away from begging on their knees when you rolled your eyes and dismissed them. Minjeong took this as a win and began to cheer, while also redirecting your attention back to the game in front of you.

When you were dating/not-dating, you used to come to every one of Sungchan's games wearing his jersey rain or shine. That's how you gained the status of being one of the most notorious couples in the grade. You didn't know why, but you were glad to see that no other girl was sporting his name and number on their back from what you could see. They weren't a famous team; they didn't sell jerseys with the players' names in the school store, so you were a little bit relieved to realise Sungchan wasn't giving out his jerseys to girls left, right and centre in your absence.

What was evident though, was the rambunctious screaming every time the ball fell at his feet. He was one of the team's star players along with Heeseung and Lee Minho, so you weren't surprised. However, the cheering had definitely stepped up a notch ever since he checked himself into the gym while you were gone.

The game passed by pretty quickly. Both defences were very good, so there weren't many goals scored. Heeseung had scored two both assisted by Sungchan and the other team had done the same. Though the game ended in a eventful tie, the crowd was still buzzing with pride and school spirit. Through the streets around the arena and the campus, you could hear them chanting some school songs.

"Are we meeting Heeseung there?" you asked Minjeong curiously as you walked together towards Greek row. Sunghoon had disappeared after the win to find some of his friends before the party, meanwhile Chanyoung was whisked away by Seunghan into the crowd

"Yeah, they'll be a while before they get to the house, I think. I know I was heavy persuading you earlier, but you're actually fine with coming to the party, right? You can tell me if not," her eyebrows are stitched together in worry, but you just link arms again and continued walking.

"It'll be nice to go out and do my normal things," you reassured her.

The Rho Zeta house was one that was very familiar to you. It was a house you had spent many a nights in during your second year when Sungchan lived at his frat house. You wondered if he stayed there or moved out with his friends.

There's some rushing freshmen on the door duty and you were let in swiftly when Minjeong uttered your names. Though Heeseung was a member of a different fraternity, the friends and partners of the football team were always invited to the post-game ragers. Making your way down to the basement where most people chose to spend their time, you waved to Eunseok in the kitchen making cocktails.

A fair few spectators had already made it to the party after the game finished, knocking back their third, fourth or fifth beer or beverage of choice already. When Wonbin pressed a shot into your hand and clinked it with the one in his, you had no choice but to chug it down with a grimace. Before you knew it, Eunseok was tipping back a cup of mojito down your throat and you and Minjeong were doing shots of tequila with your arms intertwined.

The Rho Zeta basement was expansive, but very busy. There were people playing beer pong in one corner (Sohee was losing badly to a grinning Anton) meanwhile sober monitor Shotaro was trying to pry the darts out of a drunk Seunghan's grip before he could try to throw them and potentially hurt someone. You swore that they kept those locked away in a cabinet during parties, but Seunghan was always a crafty guy.

Endless bodies swayed in the gaps of the basement to the rhythm of the music- the music being the mixes that Nu Sigma Tau alumni Johnny Suh was producing from his speakers in the far corner. He was truly a man stuck in his college days, but he always provided the best tunes. You had lost track of time early into the night before losing track of Minjeong completely when the football team arrived. You hid behind Johnny's equipment, making small (loud) talk with him about what he had been getting up to. In the corner of your eye, you had spotted Sungchan hovering in the crowds since he was probably a whole head taller than most of the attendees.

"I heard what happened to you and our bambi over there," Johnny uttered nonchalantly as he prodded at some buttons that you could never grasp the use of, "How's that working out?"

"It's the consequences of my own actions," you hummed sadly, "I've never regretted anything more."

"Does he know that?"

You flick your glance to the guy chatting with his best friend Eunseok by the wall, "I think I owe it to him to let him move on. There's so many girls interested in him since I left."

"And clearly he rejected all those girls if he came alone. I'm banishing you from my booth, so go talk to him." Johnny cooed at you before pushing you lightly away and into the crowd with a wave.

After the fiasco that was the café and Jiyoon, you certainly weren't prepared to face Sungchan. What could you even say to him? That you were burning with jealousy that you couldn't help but run away?

Yizhuo and Giselle occupied your time for a little bit on the couches, but once the smell of sweaty party goers began to invade your senses even while getting progressively drunker, you dashed/stumbled up to the second floor living room that was always much more chilled out.

"Y/N!" Soobin cried out excitedly as you entered the large room. He was already reaching over to offer you a beer, which you took. Behind Soobin's tall stature, you don't even notice the people sat in a circle behind him, "We're playing truth or dare."

Soobin was one of your friends you made in a club you joined in your freshman year. You didn't speak to him very much over text, but the two of you always had a good time when seeing each other. He wrapped his large hand around your wrist and dragged you over to sit in the circle. You recognised a few familiar faces as you cast your eyes around, namely Karina and some of Heeseung's friends, but your heart dropped when you saw Sungchan and Jiyoon sat cross-legged next to each other a few spaces to right of Soobin.

Even in your state, you weren't so much of a masochist to stay and watch. Leaning over to Soobin's ear, you whispered, "Shit Bin, I think I'm gonna sit this one out."

"No," he whined like a baby, "I haven't seen you in a year, so stay!"

His protest was so loud that it called the attention of some of your other friends who all drunkenly pouted and pleaded for you to stay. Some guy who you recognised as Sunwoo reached over the space in the middle and spun the bottle. You kept your eyes trained on it as spun around and around, praying it wouldn't land on you. A sigh of relief left your mouth as it fell on Chaerin, who quickly chose dare.

"Text your most recent ex and tell them that you miss them!" Sunwoo giggled through his drink.

As you nursed your own drink, you mirrored Chaerin's grimace and fought all your might to avoid looking at Sungchan. You would be horrified to have received that. Chaerin gingerly pulled out her phone and typed a few words before flashing her screen around the circle as proof. She then grabbed the bottle and spun it harshly.

"Jiwoo, truth or dare?" Chaerin taunted. Your eyes flashed to her figure momentarily as she giggled and chose dare as well.

"Kiss the person you'd most want to date."

You don't think you've ever felt such burning sadness as you watched Jiwoo quickly grab Sungchan's face and bring it down to hers for a quick peck. The grip on your bottle was nearly enough to smash the glass into a million pieces the way your heart was breaking.

It took everything in you not to get up and run away, especially when the alcohol in your bloodstream was making you feel your emotions ten times as strong. You couldn't make it about you- Sungchan didn't deserve that. The rest of the group's eyes had already turned to you after Jiwoo's kiss, considering that you and Sungchan never really kept it much of a secret. Even Karina  was making 'are you okay?' eyes at you from across the circle. You simply gave her a subtle nod and a smile as Jiwoo spun the bottle too.

"You and Sungchan aren't back together?" Soobin dropped his face low to your ear.

"Does it look like we are, Soob?" you exhaled, watching Nayoung give Jay a drunk and joking lap dance.

"Shit," he breathed out under his breath, "Sorry I made you stay."

"It's okay. I should move on anyway, right?" you smiled assuringly at him. You don't think you've ever given such a fake smile in your life.

"Y/N," Soobin trailed off, trying to pry the bottle that you were sipping on away from your hands, "Should we go?"

"No, it's fine," you gritted out, pointing at the bottle spinning to direct his attention. Your heart dropped as it landed on you.

"Truth or dare, Y/N?" Jay mumbled.

You weren't going to risk it; Jay was known for giving batshit ideas, so you settled on, "Truth."

"How many people did you sleep with or kiss on your year abroad?" he smirked.

"Zero," you deadpanned instantly, "For both."

Jay pouted at your boring answer, but gestured for you to choose the next person. It landed on Yuri, who chose dare bravely. You were starting to dissociate a little, but managed to murmur some dare about giving her phone to Sunghoon and letting him post whatever on her story.

The game continued a while with you trying to focus as much as possible at burning a hole through the glass of your drink with Soobin asking you if you were okay every couple of minutes. It was hard not to turn your head and steal glances at Sungchan and Jiwoo, whose laugh reverberated through the room, your bones and then into your heart.

You were certain Jiwoo was a nice girl, but where did she come from? All your friends convinced you that Sungchan hadn't entertained anyone despite the newfound attention that you leaving brought to him and even his friends never mentioned anything when they would occasionally talk to you. Surely Jiwoo and Sungchan were close, right? Close enough for them to be recommending each other things to do in the summer and close enough for Jiwoo to quite literally kiss him in front of everyone.

"Sungchan, truth or dare?" an unfamiliar voice caused your head to slowly lift up.

"Dare," it's the first time you've heard his voice the whole game.

"Kiss the person you'd want to date in this room."

A light gasp escaped nearly everyone's lips as you examined the smirking player. You definitely didn't recognise him; maybe he was a freshman. His eyes were darting with a cheeky glint between Sungchan and Jiwoo, assuming that he was setting up a couple by echoing Chaerin's earlier dare for him.

"Taesan, choose a different dare," Karina's voice boomed as she directed laser eyes towards the boy. He instantly frowned.

"Why? It's fun!"

"Choose a different dare," Soobin repeated next to you.

In that moment, you wanted the world to just cave in and swallow you up whole. You didn't think that you could bare to watch your ex-boyfriend- the one who held your heart but the one whose heart you stomped all over- kiss another girl in a confession. Despite that, you were completely paralysed in your spot, cross legged and head having turned to Sungchan's direction.

At the same time that Karina began to get up and say, "Y/N, let's go downstairs,", Sungchan had pushed himself out of his seat under the watchful eyes of Jiwoo.

"Fuck it," he had laughed dryly.

Your vision changed in a moment's notice. Sungchan was staring straight into your eyes bearing the emotions of pleading. Pleading to ask you if what he was about to do was okay.

You think that you probably nodded unconsciously, because in an instant, Sungchan's plump lips found yours again for the first time in a year. They slotted perfectly in between your hesitant mouth, but like a reflex, your brain had finally connected to your body again and started moving against him.

Similar to the earlier gasps from all those who had known about your history together, the whole group had gasped and fell silent as they watched the scene unfold.

The kiss was not gentle at all. He moved against you harshly, desperately and his hands on your cheeks burned your skin, lighting a thousand flames inside you. Sungchan tasted a bit like the beer he was drinking, but also like the cherry lip balm that you had once bought for him and got him addicted to in the past. It caught you so off guard that you fell back onto your hands behind you, causing him to push deeper against you.

You were both panting when he finally pulled away.

"Y/N," he murmured lowly against your lips, "Let's go to my room."

You remembered getting up. You remembered his fingers interlacing between yours. You remembered practically running through the corridors to reach his familiar door at the end. You remembered Sungchan pressing you up against the wall inside his room and connecting his lips to your neck.

Then you don't remember anything after.

☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★

The next time your brain registers you're awake, there's a swirling in your stomach and something rising up your throat. In the lamp-lit glow of the seemingly strange room, you peeled the duvet off your sweating form and made a bee-line straight to the bathroom.

You didn't realise how you even knew there was a bathroom behind the door you had opened until a familiar hand was pulling your hair away from your face and rubbing your back as you emptied out the contents of your guts into the toilet.

"It's okay, baby," he cooed sweetly. The term of endearment flew over your head pretty much immediately, but your heart probably skipped a quick beat.

Tears brimmed at your lashes and threatened to spill as you hurled and hurled. How much had you had to drink?

"Sungchan?" you croaked out in between heaves.

"Yeah, it's me. I'm here," he whispered into the dark, "You're in my room at the frat house."

Binge drinking wasn't a common reoccurrence of your freshman and sophomore days, but when you did, you always threw up in the middle of the night and became disorientated. You never knew where you were and how you got there.

When you finally finished throwing up, Sungchan had already tied your hair back with a tie he found on your wrist and had pulled you up against his body in the bathroom. With the lamp in his room on and the door open, you could make out his sleepy figure and messy hair in the mirror.

"Here, wash your face and brush your teeth," the toothbrush he handed you was old, but you recognised it as the one you kept in his room for the nights you would sleep over. Despite the banging headache and the questions floating around in your head, you managed to follow his instructions. There was no makeup left on your face from what you could tell, so someone must have taken a wipe to your face. You just splashed some water to refresh yourself and brushed your teeth to get the nasty taste out of your mouth.

Looking down, you were still in the skirt and college top from the party, but your socks and shoes had been replaced with fluffy socks that you loved to sleep in and all of your jewellery removed. Sungchan was waiting at the edge of his bed, eyes only half opened until you stepped back into the room again.

It looked the same as when you left, with a few pictures of you together removed in places. There were some weights in the corner too, but otherwise, it was a picture perfect reflection of before, as if time never passed.

"What happened? What am I doing here?" your throat burned from all the heaving you had been doing, but Sungchan passed you a water bottle and a pill, "All I remember was the game and you kissing me."

"We went to my room, but you passed out pretty quick," Sungchan recounted, "Sorry I kissed you. I slept on the floor, by the way."

You noticed the pillow and blanket missing from the bed. From the digital clock on Sungchan's desk, you could see it was still only 4am.

"Thanks for taking care of me. I'll catch a taxi home now," you looked around the room for your shoes, "Sorry for the vomit and stuff."

Sungchan rose to his feet, "Y/N, just stay. It's dangerous for you to leave at this time and you need to rest. It's okay. If it makes you uncomfortable, I can sleep in Eunseok's room."

Although your brain was blaring alarm signals in your mind and telling you to get out of there before anything else tragic could happen, your heart belonged to the bed that you missed sharing with him.

You sighed heavily and crawled back under the covers. With your eyes closed, you bared your true feelings into the silent room, "Please stay."

"Okay," he hummed, walking over to the other side of the bed where you assumed that he set up the pillow and blanket.

"Can you sleep with me? On the bed?" your voice was so quiet and hesitant despite your state that Sungchan didn't know if he just conjured that in his imagination until you spoke again, "Please?"

You shuffled over closer to your side of the bed closer to the door. He slid in on his side, closer to the window. Your head was spinning even lying down and you could feel yourself slipping out of consciousness already as his body heat combined with yours to wrap you up in a comfortable and familiar sensation.

"Y/N?"

"Hmm?"

"I'm lying. I'm not sorry I kissed you. I'm sorry that you had to see her kiss me though."

"Why?"

"I'd never want you to think that I want anyone else other than you."

Your awareness faded into nothingness as you felt Sungchan's hands slip in between yours under the sheets.

☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★

"Y/N? What the fuck happened last night? Karina texted me and said some shit went down upstairs and you disappeared with Sungchan?" Minjeong's voice was laced with worry as she rushed to the door the second you stepped through.

Although she looked as haggard as you, she was much more preoccupied about where you went after she handed you your 3rd mojito of the night. You winced at her volume, "My head hurts like shit, Jeong. And my heart too."

"Jay told me what happened. Are you okay?" Heeseung's voice was quieter as you entered the open plan living space. He was sat on your couch with a bowl of cereal in the space between his crossed legs and Minjeong's iPad playing some TV show on the coffee table.

"Y/N? Hello?" Minjeong waved in your face.

"I don't want to talk about it, guys," you groaned, "Some girl kissed him. He kissed me. We went to his room. I passed out immediately and woke up throwing up. That's all."

"You didn't talk? Not this morning?" she prodded on.

It was only 11am. Your face involuntary cringed with regret.

Minjeong gasped dramatically, "Y/N, if you tell me right now that you left before he even woke up, I'm literally going to kill you. Y/N, that's such shitty behaviour. Honestly."

"Please don't make me feel worse than I already do," you sniffled as her words brought tears to your eyes, "I literally don't know what to do. All I want to do is let him go for his sake, but he keeps dragging me back to him."

She wrapped you up in a tight hug and smoothed out your hair, "Y/N, just go back to his room and tell him how you feel. Let him tell you how he feels too. You're going to keep going around in circles if you keep running from him, and it's going to end in heartbreak again."

You cried into her shoulders for a few minutes in sheer frustration, until she pushed you out of the door and made Heeseung drive you mid-bowl of cereal to the frat house to make sure you actually went inside.

On your grand exit out of the house that you prayed would go unnoticed, you had ran into Shotaro in the living room cleaning. He had given you a disappointed look, but your pleading eyes convinced him not to say anything as you slipped out of the door shortly after waking up. The expression on your face must have told him that you were sneaking away from his best friend.

It was Shotaro who opened the door for you when you knocked just 20 minutes after you left.

"You came to your senses?" Shotaro quirked an eyebrow at you as he stepped aside to let you in. You waved goodbye to Heeseung as he drove back in the direction he came in.

"I'm sorry, Taro."

"I'm not the one you should be saying that to," he sighed defeatedly, "Please don't hurt him again, Y/N. I love you both, but please."

All you could give him was a faltering smile as you ascended up to the second floor again. There were still some cups and miscellaneous items left strewn around the house, so you assumed that the frat brothers were mostly still asleep.

You tiptoed up to Sungchan's room and knocked three times, lightly, before pushing the door open. He was still curled up tightly on his side of the bed, cuddling a stuffed bear that you got him. It was exactly how you found him when you woke up again in the morning.

His face was so peaceful and angelic when he slept, soft snores escaping between his parted lips. In the past, you used to wake him up by peppering kisses on his smooth skin until he woke up. He used to wake up confused, until a smile would invade his face when he realised you were there. It used to make your heart feel all tight and warm in the best way possible.

Your breath hitched when Sungchan stirred to face his body towards you. Though his eyes stayed close, his breathing became noticeably shallower.

"You left," his voice was mercifully devoid of accusation, but it made your heart split down the middle all the same.

"I'm so sorry," it was pathetic, but that was all you could bring yourself to say.

Unwrapping his arm out from the tangle with his stuffed plushie, he patted the empty space on the bed that was still a bit warm. The weight of your body dropping onto the bed caused him to scooch a bit closer to you with his eyes still firmly closed.

"Can we just stop being sorry now? You're back now with no plans to leave again, so why do you keep running away from me?"

"Sungchan," you breathed out his name, but he opened his mouth again.

"I'll prove to you that all I want is still you. There's no one else, Y/N. You hurt me a lot, but I know you didn't want to. Let's give it another go. Do it properly and call each other boyfriend and girlfriend," his lips tugged up into a soft smile.

You didn't even know when you started crying but at the sound of your sniffle, his hands came up to wipe at your cheeks.

"Why are you crying?"

"What did I do to deserve someone like you? You deserve someone better," you choked out through your hot tears.

He let out a soft laugh as his eyes finally opened slowly and met yours, "Stop asking questions and saying sorry and just accept that I want to love you, Y/N."

His words triggered a waterfall of tears to stream down your face, but he pulled you down into the bed with him and wrapped you up in his arms tightly. It felt like home again.

"I loved you, Sungchan. I did."

He brushed the hair out of your face and planted a searing kiss on your temple, "I know, Y/N. I knew. Stop crying and go back to sleep with me. It'll all be okay when we wake up. I promise, baby."

He tucked his bear into your grasp and pulled the sheets over your bodies again. His arms returned around you and he continued to press the most gentle touches of his lips on your forehead, your temples, your nose and finally onto your lips that held back choked sobs until you slipped out of consciousness.

☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★

"I wanna know everything you did in New York," Sungchan requested softly as he swung next to you. On the walk to your apartment from his that he accompanied you on after you both woke up, you spotted the playground equidistant between both residences empty. The two of you had spent a few nights there in the past swinging beside each other and talking, so it seemed perfect to go there again to talk- somewhere public and open.

You texted Minjeong that you were on the way back to your flat to change and freshen up and she kindly left with Heeseung as to not make the situation any more awkward or tense by having them meet in such a circumstance. Sungchan just sprawled in your bed and scrolled on his phone as you showered, changed and applied your skincare. After a night of drinking, throwing up and not moisturising after washing your face in the middle of the night, your skin had been going through it. When you plugged in your hairdryer and made him scooch over silently so you could sit on the bed, Sungchan had sat up and taken the dryer out of your grasp, motioning for you to turn around.

"Someone's watched Queen of Tears," you humoured over at him as the humming and heat began to fill the room.

"Just like the entire country," he jested back, "I guess we're a bit like them."

"Chaebols who get married and hate each other until one of them gets a seemingly incurable illness?" through the mirror at the end of your bed, you saw Sungchan roll his eyes playfully.

"Two people that find their way back to each other," he had corrected softly.

His words struck you silent, just watching him direct the dryer at your hair while thoughts swarmed in your head. You weren't sure if your neck was burning up from the dryer or from his fingers bumping against your skin every so often.

Since the two of you woke up, you could probably count on your hands how many times you'd spoken. You'd settled into this comfortable, but weighted silence knowing that sooner or later you'd probably have to properly talk to navigate the events of the night prior. You had delayed it a bit by asking to go home and change and he walked you all the way wordlessly other than suggesting to go to the park after.

When you were done getting ready, the two of you made your way to the park. This time, Sungchan had grabbed your hand firmly in his at the very first instance of your skin brushing. He was much more bold than when you had left.

"What do you want to know?" you quirked an eyebrow as he kicked off the ground to swing higher.

"If it was everything you dreamed of. If you missed home. If you made friends," he listed out, looking over at you.

You sighed and thought back. Over the past few weeks since you'd been back, everyone had asked you the same questions. For the most part, you had given the same answer to all of them robotically, but you felt like Sungchan deserved a bit more than your usual spiel.

"The city was incredible. New York was always my dream. I got to travel a little around the country too, so that was nice. It got really lonely pretty quickly, even though I made a lot of friends. It's just so busy and everyone has their own thing," you recounted slowly, "I missed home as soon as I left, but I do miss the friends I made in New York. America is very different to Seoul though."

"Did you mean what you said at the party? There was no one else?" his voice was shaky as he asked. You knew it wasn't something he took lightly.

"I wouldn't lie to you," you affirmed strongly, "I really did miss you and regretted everything the second I left. I was too ashamed to admit my mistake, so I'm sorry for hurting you unnecessarily. I don't regret going to New York, but I regret leaving you."

He stops the swing by planting his feet firmly. His eyes bore into yours as he tried to analyse your emotions.

"I grew a lot in that year apart, so I guess I should thank you for that. I learned that I should fight for what I want and I think we can be better this time around," Sungchan nodded, "And I missed you a lot. I keep saying it, but I just want you to know I never hated you or thought of you in anger while you were away."

The silence that followed must have freaked him out a little because he quickly continued.

"And about Jiyoon. Just, um, ignore her, please. I never knew she felt that way and I promise that I never acted in a way that might have conveyed that I felt the same," Sungchan blurted out with wide eyes, "I just- didn't know how to bring you up to her. We honestly didn't see each other very much; she just exaggerated."

You giggled a little at his panic and reached over the iron links to take his hand, "I trust you, Sungchan. You were free to do anything you wanted, but still, I trust you. You're allowed to have friends."

With a squeeze of his hand, Sungchan stood up and loomed over you on your swing. He tugged softly to get you up on your feet and clasped his hands around your waist when you did. Sungchan pulled you close to him, chest to chest.

Gasping, you looked around to make sure the playground was still empty, "Sungchan!"

He nuzzled his face down, close against yours with your foreheads pressed together, "You're all I could ever want. Please don't leave me again."

Your body completely melted into his as you brought your cold hands up to his warm cheeks. Bravely, you pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth, just barely missing his lips, "I won't, Channie."

"Is it too fast to tell you I love you? I've been waiting to say it for over a year," Sungchan pulled his head back and scrunched his face up, "Does that make me too much of a loser? Being this down bad for you?"

All the tension and stress left your body; you could finally return to normal and joke with Sungchan as you giggled into his neck, "Maybe. Do you not want to be?"

"No, I love you," he chuckled along, grazing his nose against yours again before pressing his warm lips on yours.

His lips were pillowy, parting your lips and allowing him to push deeper. He was much more gentle this time than the night before, but a squeeze on your waist caused your breath to hitch and allowed him to run tongue along your bottom lip. You could feel the outpour of emotions in his kiss and how desperate he was to let you know them.

In the year without Sungchan, your heart grew fonder and fonder and you thought to yourself how you were never going to waste another minute with him.

Sungchan had been the first to pull away, looking down at you with half-lidded, passion-filled eyes, "Let's go back before some family comes and reports us to the police."

"Ha, for doing what?" you teased, hooking your fingers around his belt loops.

His eyes transformed into a glare as he stepped away from you and moved towards the exit, "Very funny, Y/N. Yours or mine?"

"Mine," you shrugged, "Minjeong's out with Heeseung and your frat brothers are all home and hungover."

Sungchan just grinned at you, swinging an arm around your shoulder and pulling you tight to his body, "I can't wait to tell everyone you're mine again."

☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★

The last game of the season was the national finals. You had been nervous all week watching Sungchan leave every day for extra practice when he usually only trained once a week with the team.

With a cup of cola in one hand and a cardboard sign in the other, you fought through the crowd on the bleachers to find the available seat between some of your friends. Minjeong was already settled in her seat, scolding Seunghan and Sohee for playing with her I <3 Heeseung homemade headband.

"You made it!" Chanyoung clapped happily as you sat between him and his older cousin. On the other side of him, the rest of the boys waved at you excitedly.

"Wouldn't miss it for the world, of course!" you beamed. The whole arena was vibrating with excitement as nearly the whole student population turned up for the game. It was the final big event in the school calendar before the stress of final exams took over, so everyone was letting their hair down a little.

There was a section of supporters of the other team tucked away in the corner, but otherwise the people meshed together in a sea of your school colours. They had won the draw as to which school the game would be played at. You yourself was sporting a jersey nearly identical to the one that Sungchan would be coming out in soon. The shirt on his back fit his frame nicely, but it draped over you like a dress.

"Channie's gonna play good tonight because his lucky charm's here," Wonbin snorted teasingly, "He was shit all of last season."

"Wonbin," Eunseok hissed, but you just laughed with the long-haired boy.

"I'm really excited. I know they'll win." you waved the "GO #23" sign towards them.

You watched the field in anticipation as they ran out to erupting cheers from the supporters and watched as Sungchan searched the crowds for his group of friends as soon as they settled in a line. He waved in a small gesture, but all of you stood up and flailed your hands everywhere. You shook the sign vigorously and watched as his face contorted in awe and appreciation.

The game was absolutely nerve wracking. Your arms were interlocked and clutched tightly with Minjeong's and the two of you moved like one being standing up to shout at bad referee decisions or cheer at good tackles. Heeseung and Sungchan were playing well up front together, dominating the field so far with a few decent shots on target. Being the most dangerous on the field, the other team's defence were taking them on left, right and centre, causing your faces to be stuck in a permanent grimace for the first half.

Seunghan tried to start a cheer at half-time and that provided enough entertainment for your group when it miserably failed to notice the passage of time. In fresh shirts and refreshed motivation, your team went all out and scored 2 goals. Heeseung's celebrations towards Minjeong were sweet and had her swooning with flushed cheeks.

The other team had managed to score a goal, but in the 87th minute, Sungchan had broken away from his marker around the halfway line and poured all of his might into completing his run to the goal. The goalkeeper had a lot of time to anticipate Sungchan's goal, but his left foot was powerful enough to send the ball hurtling past the keeper's fingers and into the back of the net.

Screaming and yelling in joy, Sungchan slid in the direction of your friends and blew kisses in your direction. Beaming ear to ear, you deafened your friends with your ecstatic whoops. His teammates jumped on his body and then dragged him back to his position for the final 3 minutes.

Safe to say, they won the final.

After a celebration with medals, Prosecco and school cheers, you were waiting in the lobby just outside the changing rooms.

Sohee was talking your ear off about some game that he had started playing with Seunghan when a hand snaked around your waist and you felt the flutter of lips hovering over your neck.

"There's my girl. Hi, baby," he murmured against you. After sweating for 90 minutes, the boys definitely all had to take showers, so his hair was still slightly dripping over the jersey on your back.

"Channie, I'm so proud of you. Congratulations!" spinning around in his grip, you hooked your arms around his neck as he buried his head in yours.

"Your support meant everything to me. Thank you for the banner! I have the best girlfriend ever," he pulled back and beamed down at you, planting a peck on your expectant lips.

Despite having been officially his girlfriend for over 6 months now, the title still made your heart flutter to this day. You'd never forgive your past self from depriving yourself from having Sungchan as you had him now. Despite being the sweetest companion in your early university days, he had held himself back a little due to your hesitation.

Now that you were all in, Sungchan showered you with love, praise and support in anything you did. You tried your best to reciprocate and most days, it felt like your heart could explode every time you looked at him from how your love seemed to grow more and more every day.

He was the perfect gentleman and the perfect boyfriend. He brought you snacks whenever you had to stay late at the library and tucked you tight in his chest under the covers on the days that the world seemed to be collapsing - it never did, maybe thanks to him.

In short, adoring Sungchan became part of your daily routine. A task that you were happy to continue for the rest of your life.

"And I have the most amazing boyfriend in the world," you rested your cheek against his chest as you squeezed him tighter, "I love you, Sungchan."

His heartbeat thumped in your ear as he smoothed out your hair with his palm. The rhythm was strong and constant, as dependable as he was. You felt the love in his touch, no need for words.

Jung Sungchan was a man of his word. As long as you stayed by each other's side, everything would be okay. The world continues to spin. Your heart continues to beat for him.

[jaythes1mp]

5628 words, 31564 characters, 328 sentences, 133 paragraphs, 22.5 pages.

Tag list: @chemicalsandghosts @yandere-enthusiast @starsdotalk

No idea how I’ve been constantly making a chapter every day and posting straight away.

Your secrets are ours, kid

Yandere BatFam x Reader — CH10 -> CH9 -> CH8 -> CH7 -> CH6 -> CH5 -> CH4 -> CH3 -> CH2 -> CH1

Tim had been observing you from his seat across the table, his keen eyes taking in your focused state as you immersed yourself in whatever it was on your laptop. You had been at it all day, your gaze fixed intently on the screen, your fingers tapping away at the keys. There was a hint of determination and concentration on your face, yet there was also a tinge of anxiety mixed with it. He was curious, to say the least.

Tim had to repeatedly pull your focus away from your device. In each class you shared together, he would notice you glued to the screen, your eyes fixated intently on whatever you were working on. Despite repeated attempts to divert your attention, you kept getting pulled back into your work, your focus unwavering. It ticked him off. His deep blue orbs piercing through your form. A frown tugged at the corners of his lips, dark brows furrowed. Alfred was going to be here in ten minutes and you hadn’t averted your attention towards him once. He hadn’t joined this low class university for you to not spare him a glance.

He clears his throat, pocketing his phone and resting his chin against his palm.

Your attention diverts, finally. His frown twitches up. You send him a soft grin then look back down to your computer. His eye twitches.

Tim casually leans across the table and closes your laptop without warning, his fingers moving swiftly to shut it down. Quickly pulling back before you have a chance to swat at him. He leans back into his chair, just out of your reach, anticipating your reaction. His eyes twinkle with a mischievous glint, remaining just out of range.

You shoot Tim a glare, your annoyance evident on your face as you take a swipe at his arm. However, he's a little too quick for you, dodging your punch with ease and moving out of your reach before you can connect. He grins at your frustrated expression, clearly enjoying the reaction he's gotten out of you. Reviling in the attention.

“What.” You demand, exhausted. You flex your fingers, suddenly acutely aware of the subtle aching from constant typing.

Tim casually lies, claiming that his phone is dead and that he needs your attention. The words roll off his tongue effortlessly, as if twisting the truth had become a natural reflex for him. "My phone is dead," he says matter-of-factly. "Give me some attention."

Your sour expression whittles down to a begrudging smile. “So demanding.” You pretend to huff, opening your laptop to click save then stuffing it in your bag carelessly.

Tim smirked at your response, silently pleased with himself for successfully derailing your focus from your work to him. He watched as you pack your laptop away, his deep blue eyes tracking your every move, his gaze almost lazy.

As you finally give him your full attention, he leans further back in his chair, his pose nonchalant. "Well, you were pretty immersed in your laptop earlier. I had to do something to get your attention."

He feigned a wounded expression, a hand clutching at his chest dramatically, his words dripping with mock hurt. "I was feeling a bit neglected, to be honest."

You snort at his reaction and roll your eyes. “Oh shove off, you sod. It wasn’t that bad.”

Tim chuckled softly, his smirk remaining as he raised an eyebrow at your response. "Oh, it was definitely that bad," he teased. "You looked like you were having a more engaging conversation with your laptop than with me."

He leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table, his voice taking on a mocking tone. "I swear, I could hear you whispering sweet nothings to the keyboard.”

You scowl at Tim's playful words, not entirely amused by his demand for attention. Your expression is tinged with irritation, but there's also a hint of fondness beneath it. You know this is just his way of getting under your skin, and although you may not want to admit it, you can't help but find it slightly endearing nonetheless. You lean over and lock your leg around his chair so he can’t get away as you pinch his side.

He yelps in exaggerated pain, immediately recoiling away from your grip. "Hey, that hurts," he protested, rubbing at the spot on his side that you had pinched.

Despite his feigned agony, a hint of a playful smile tugged at the corners of his lips, betraying his true feelings. He was enjoying this back and forth between you, the way you easily fell into his teasing banter.

He quickly recovers and feigns a dramatic pout, his blue gaze meeting and holding yours. "You're being so mean to me," Tim whined, his voice dripping with fake hurt.

You roll your eyes at Tim's exaggerated overdramatic voice. His puppy dog eyes and feigned hurt expression are all too familiar to you, and you know exactly what he's trying to do. Nevertheless, you can't help but feel a pang of guilt as he accuses you of being mean. "Oh please," you scoff, your irritation momentarily overwritten by his pitiful act.

Tim senses your moment of guilt and capitalizes on it, his pout deepening as he continues to play the part of the wounded damsel. His voice is laced with mock hurt, "You don't feel bad for hurting my feelings, do you?"

He places a hand on his chest, his expression one of exaggerated despair. Inwardly, he knows he's being ridiculous, but the way you react to his antics is just too amusing for him to resist. He lets out a dramatic sigh, feigning exhaustion from your callousness.

You bite your lip, fighting the urge to laugh at Tim's over-the-top antics. His pathetic expression and exaggerated despair are absolutely ridiculous, and yet somehow, you can't help feeling a hint of guilt creeping up on you. With a resigned sigh, you roll your eyes and reply, "Oh, I feel terrible."

Your sarcasm is blatantly obvious, but there's a hint of genuine concern in your expression, a sign that you're not completely immune to his playful manipulation.

His eyes gleam with satisfaction as he senses your guilt, a hint of a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. He's fully aware of the effect his puppy-dog eyes and dramatic flair have on you, and he's not afraid to use them to get your attention and sympathy.

He leans even closer, resting his chin on the palm of one hand, "You should feel bad," he responds, his voice filled with mock arrogance. "I've been sitting here all day, begging for your attention, and you've been ignoring me for that stupid laptop of yours."

You let out a sigh, rubbing the side of your neck as you feel a hint of awkwardness creeping in. Although Tim's demeanor is still laced with his typical playful demeanor, you sense a touch of seriousness beneath his words, a subtle hint that his request for attention is not entirely a joke.

“Sorry. I’ve been...” You nibble at the inside of your cheek in thought, trying to find the right words without blurting out anything you’ll regret. “... stressed.”

Tim's expression softens at your words, his teasing facade dropping for a moment. He notices the way you nibble at your cheek, his observant gaze not missing a single thing. He senses that there's something more to your stress than meets the eye, but he doesn't press you for answers just yet. Instead, he puts up a facade of understanding, his concern for you genuine.

"Stressed, huh?" he repeats, his tone gentler now, but his eyes are studying you intently. "What's got you all twisted up?" He puts up a facade of nonchalance, his expression not displaying his internal worries in the slightest. Why were you stressed? Should he get Bruce to pay off some of your professors again? Were they putting too much pressure on you?

You bite your cheek, torn between being annoyed at Tim's overprotective tendencies and appreciating his genuine concern. Part of you wants to brush off his question and avoid revealing the source of your stress, but another part yearns for the comfort and support that he seems to endlessly offer.

You give in, admitting quietly, "Yeah, I'm a little stressed. It's just been a lot lately, with classes and assignments piling up... I’m starting to worry about rent too. I know that Jason can cover for me this month, but I just feel bad. Y’know?” You sigh, running a hand through your hair anxiously. It was easy to open up to Tim. You never knew why, but he just always seemed to know when something was bothering you. He’d text you right as a panic attack sprouts, or just when you wake up in the middle of the night from a heart drenching nightmare. He always seemed to know.

Tim listens intently as you speak, his eyes never leaving your form. His keen mind absorbing every word, noting every nervous gesture and anxious sigh. He feels a pang of worry in his chest as you mention your struggles with rent, and his hand clenches into a fist instinctively, but he manages to keep his outwardly calm demeanor.

He shifts closer in his seat, reaching out to gently rest his hand on top of yours, trying to provide some comfort. "Hey," he says, his voice soft and reassuring, "you know we're all here for you, right?" The words slip past his lips before he has the time to register them.

You pause, your hand falling from your hair and landing in your lap. Taking your other out of his hold. There's a moment of silence as you gather your thoughts, your eyes dropping to your fingers as you idly pick at the skin around them. You let out a soft murmur of doubt, your voice laced with uncertainty and question. “... All?”

Tim raises a brow as you withdraw your hand from his own, his eyes tracking your movements, taking note of the way your fingers nervously pick at your skin. The pause in your conversation causes a flicker of worry to flash across his features. He had inadvertently let slip the secret in his attempt to console you.

He watches as you murmur that one word, 'All?' and feels a pang of guilt in his chest. He mentally curses his slip-up.

“Yeah,” he confirms, his voice hesitant. “All.”

He shifts his chair closer, “Your roommate, me, your friends. We’re all here for you. I’m sure they are.” He attempts to poorly explain, relived when you seem to believe him, nodding.

"Yeah... all..." You respond quietly, the implications of your words heavy in the air. Doubt laced in your tone.

Tim takes the moment of silence to mentally berate himself for his careless slip-up. He hadn't meant to reveal anything that you weren't ready to know. He opens his mouth to speak, wanting to clarify something, anything, but he's interrupted by the familiar sound of Alfred's voice.

"I do hope I'm not interrupting something." Alfred's voice cuts through the tension as he approaches. His expression is unreadable, his gaze flickering between you and Tim.

You glance up from the Drake, your eyes meeting those of his butler, Alfred. A small, sad smile graces your lips, an acknowledgment of both the man's silent presence and the care he provides. Despite the circumstances, you can't help but feel a pang of loneliness, knowing that your own parents were nowhere to be found while Tim was fortunate enough to have an attentive and kind caretaker. You knew deep down that your thoughts were a bit silly. You were an adult now, independent and capable of taking care of yourself. There was no point in yearning for affection from parents who had never cared enough to show it in the first place. But the ache for acceptance and recognition remained, a constant whisper in the back of your mind, an echo of the neglected child you had been.

With a forced smile, you push yourself to your feet, slinging your backpack over your shoulder. The weight of it is heavy, both physically and emotionally, a constant reminder of the load you're carrying. "And that's my cue," you say, a tone of resignation in your voice. You're eager to escape the situation, desperate for a moment of solitude to sort through your thoughts.

Alfred's eyes flicker with a hint of concern at your forced smile, noting the resignation in your tone. His gaze scans your features, taking in every subtle shift and twitch, his astute mind already noting the burden you seemed to be carrying. He opens his mouth to speak, perhaps to offer a word of reassurance, but Tim cuts in before he can.

The young man rises from his chair, his movements smooth and controlled. He steps forward, standing between you and Alfred, his tall frame acting as a physical barrier. “Wait,” he says firmly, his blue eyes locking with yours.

You pause at Tim's firm command, your gaze locking with his intense eyes. There's something about his tone and the way he steps forward to block Alfred's view of you that makes you hesitate, a sense of unease creeping in. Despite your desire to flee, his presence and the command in his voice keep you rooted in place.

The air in the room crackles with tension as Tim holds your gaze, his eyes burning into yours with an intensity that is both unexpected and unsettling. His hand moves to grip your elbow, fingers gently but firmly wrapping around your arm, as if to prevent you from escaping.

Tim’s eyes bore into yours with an intensity that makes you feel both uneasy and exposed. His body is taut, his broad shoulders serving as a physical barrier between you and Alfred, effectively cutting you off from the older man’s line of sight. You flinch subtly as his hand suddenly lunges out to grip your elbow, his fingers wrapping firmly around your arm in a manner that feels almost possessive.

He can't help but visibly startle when he notices your flinch, Tim’s eyes widening in surprise. He quickly bites his lip to contain himself from cooing at you, resisting the flood of gentle words and reassurances that threaten to spill out. The words almost accidentally slipping past his lips, the instinct to protect and comfort you strong within him. Seeing your fear, whether it was a direct response to him or not, causes a pang of guilt to stab at his heart. He wants to pull you close, to wrap his arms around you and whisper that everything is okay, that he'd never hurt you, that it's alright, little bat.

You exhale softly, your voice filled with a quiet apology. You don't quite understand why your body had reacted so instinctively to his touch, why you had flinched at the sight of his hand reaching for you. It was Tim, your best bud, someone who had always been there for you, he’d never hurt you. But there was something about the intensity in his eyes, a look that you couldn't quite shake off. You shake your head, pushing aside any lingering doubts and trying to forget about it.

You hesitate for a moment before slowly wrapping your arms around Tim, enveloping him in a gentle embrace. Your voice is filled with a mixture of uncertainty and affection. "I'll see you on Thursday," You murmur. That’s when you next had class with him. "Text me when you get home, yeah?"

The moment you wrap your arms around Tim, his tense muscles relax almost immediately. He relishes in the feel of you against him, basking in your warmth as it fills his senses. He returns your embrace quickly, wrapping his arms around you and holding you tight against his chest. A breath he didn't even realize he was holding escaped his lips.

“Yeah," he responds softly, his voice a low murmur against your ear. He can't help but bury his nose in your hair, inhaling your scent, his body relaxing as you hold him close. "I'll text you right when I get home, I promise."

Alfred watches the exchange in silence, his expression unreadable. His gaze flits from Tim to you, simply observing quietly.

Once you return to the threshold that is your apartment, you instantly notice the pure chaos that greets you. The place was a mess, with items scattered everywhere, and your eyes widened at the sight. In the kitchen, you spot Jason pacing back and forth, his expression etched with tension.

You hiss, dropping your bag on the couch and picking up your speed to the kitchen. You give no warning before wacking the older males side.

Jason recoils at the unexpected blow to his side, spinning around to face you with a scowl. “Hey, watch it,” he grunts, rubbing his side.

He crosses his arms, his eyes darting around the living room before settling back on you. “Before you go off on me—“ he starts, but he’s cut off by the glare you give him.

“Did the place get raided while I was gone!?” You yell, eyes piercing through his form.

He runs a hand through his hair, pushing back the strands of white that had fallen into his eyes.

Jason scoffs, rolling his eyes at your outrage. “It’s not that bad,” he mutters, gesturing around the living room.

In reality, it is bad. There are papers and clothes everywhere, and it looks like a tornado tore through the place. But compared to some of the messes he’s made in his life, this is nothing.

You give him a pointed look, your jaw clenching.

Jason lets out a sigh, seeing the irritation in your expression. He knows he’s in trouble. “Listen, I had a few people over and…” He trails off, his excuse dying in his throat. He sighs again, running a hand through his hair. “Okay, it’s a mess. I’ll clean it up, alright?”

You cross your arms, a stubborn expression on your face. “Damn right you will,” you mutter, eyeing the chaos around you. “And I swear, if I see another used cup, I’m going to shove it down your throat.”

Jason rolls his eyes again, a smirk playing on his lips. “So violent,” he teases, taking a step closer to you. “Maybe I’m rubbing off on you.”

You let out a frustrated huff, zooming past Jason in the kitchen without sparing him another glance. You stride out onto the cramped balcony, arms crossed as you lean against the railing. Your head rests against your arms, a mixture of annoyance and exhaustion etched on your face.

You had looked forward to having some peace and quiet once you finally made it home, but your relief was quickly replaced by frustration upon seeing the state of your apartment. The sight of the mess caused a wave of annoyance to wash over you, which you tried to squash down. Letting out a soft exhale then leaning back. The air, less than fresh, stinging your skin. You close your eyes.

—

After a solid two hours, Todd knocks softly against the door frame leading onto the balcony, a sheepish smile perched on his lips.

He stands awkwardly in the doorway, holding your favourite tea out in front of him. He knows he messed up, and he knows you’re still mad at him. He can see it in the tension in your shoulders, in the firm set of your jaw.

He clears his throat, taking a small step forward. “Hey,” he says softly, his voice gruff but hesitant. “I brought you tea.”

You don’t turn around at the sound of his voice, but he can see the slight shift in your frame. He takes another step forward, approaching you slowly, like he’s approaching a wild animal he’s afraid will run away.

He stops when he’s close enough to touch you, but he doesn’t. He holds out the cup of tea, the steam wafting up in front of you. “It’s your favourite,” he mutters, his voice apologetic and tentative.

Your shoulders relax slightly, and he can see the tension in your face ease a bit. You still don’t turn to face him, but you reach out to take the cup from his hand, and he considers that a victory.

He stands there silently for a moment, watching as you bring the cup to your lips and take a small sip. He wants to say something, anything, to break the silence between you. But he doesn’t know what to say.

The silence stretches on, and he shifts awkwardly on his feet. He’s not used to feeling this unsure around you. Around anyone, really. But you’re not just anyone. You’re you, and he cares about you more than he wants to admit.

“... Why was the place really trashed?” You question, breaking the silence for him. Your voice didn’t hold any accusations, just simply curious. You know that he hadn’t really held any gathering. He barely tolerates when the neighbours get too close to the front door, Jason was fiercely protective of his personal space, and you couldn't imagine him willingly inviting strangers into the sanctity of his home.

Jason hesitates for a moment, his mind racing for a plausible excuse. He could tell you that it was just a rowdy party, and that he’d underestimated how much damage the guests could do.

Instead, he opts for the truth. “I was... looking for something,” he mutters, running a hand through his hair.

Bruce had gone against their deal. Planting cameras in areas other than your bedroom. He had planned to sort it out before you had arrived, but you had come home earlier than he had anticipated.

He watches as you turn to face him, your face a mixture of curiosity and annoyance. Your eyes narrow at his answer, and he knows you could see right through him. You were too damn smart for your own good.

Jason holds your gaze, his eyes silently pleading with you to accept his answer and drop the subject. But he should know by now that you were relentless, unwilling to let anything go without a thorough explanation.

You raise a brow, your serious expression cracking, a fit of giggles escaping past your lips. “No shit.” You nudge his side. “You have a girl over?” You wiggle your eyebrows in teasing question. Immediately assuming he was scrambling around for a condom.

Jason rolls his eyes at your assumption. “No,” he says firmly, a bit too firmly. “It wasn’t anything like that.”

He crosses his arms over his chest, a scowl on his face. But underneath the scowl, he’s more than a little embarrassed by your question. Of course, you would assume that the only reason he would trash the apartment was for a quick hookup.

You snort, taking a long sip of the tea and raking your eyes over his form. “Sure, Sure.”

Jason lets out a huff, his scowl deepening. “I’m serious,” he grumbles, his face heating up.

He doesn’t know why he’s so defensive, or why the thought of you thinking he had a girl over bothers him so much. He’s probably had dozens of girls - and guys - in that apartment. Before you moved in. And yet, the idea of you thinking he had a random stranger in the apartment irks him. You’re going to be his younger sibling. You shouldn’t think of him in that way.

You smirk, seeing him get all flustered and defensive. It’s cute, in a way. You’re not used to seeing him like this – he’s usually so aloof, tough, and carefree. But seeing him all red-faced and embarrassed is a rare treat.

You take another sip of your tea, savouring the flavour before speaking again. “You’re acting like a kid caught with their hand in the cookie jar.” You snicker softly.

Jason scowls at your laugh, his face growing even redder. “I’m not!” He protests, his voice raising slightly. “I just-“

He stops himself, realizing he’s only making it worse. He lets out a frustrated huff, running a hand through his hair again. He doesn’t like the way you’re looking at him, like a cat toying with its prey. It bothers him more than he cares to admit.

The older boy bristles at your insistence, his hands gripping your shoulder blades as he guides you back inside. "Get your ass to bed already, kid." He mutters, his voice gruff. "You barely had three hours of sleep earlier."

You let out a small squeak of surprise as he abruptly spins you around, pushing you back into the apartment with a firm grip. He’s being oddly firm and protective, and you can’t help but feel a little rattled by his sudden change in attitude.

Before you can protest, he’s already practically shoving you down the hallway. “Go to bed,” he says, his voice leaving no room for argument. “I’ll finish cleaning up here.”

You open your mouth to protest, mindful of not spilling the tea in your hand. "It's barely eight!" you exclaim, your tone edged with a hint of disbelief.

Jason practically rolls his eyes at your protests. "And?” He counters, his tone unamused. “You need to rest. You’re acting like a damn zombie, kid."

He steers you towards the bedroom door, his grip firm but gentle on your shoulders. “Just go to bed. I’ll clean up the mess and then make dinner, alright?”

You scowl, about to continue your argument but Jason had effectively shut it down by pushing you onto the soft covers. He smoothly takes the cup from your hands, placing it gently on the side table. A huff of annoyance escapes your lips, but the cozy warmth of the bed strangely beckons to you, tempting you to surrender to its comfort.

"...Fine." You concede with a resigned sigh, a small pout on your lips. "But I'm only doing it because I choose to, not because you’re telling me to," you quickly add, your voice tinged with a hint of defiance.

Jason snorts, an amused expression taking over his features at your protest. He runs a hand through your hair, mussing it up playfully. “Yeah, sure,” he says, his tone laced with sarcasm. “Keep telling yourself that, kid.”

He pulls back from the bed, his hand falling from your hair, and crosses his arms over his chest. "Get some rest," he orders, his tone brokering no room for argument. "I'll wake you up when dinner is ready."

You grumble a bit, pulling the blankets up to your chin and snuggling into the pillows. Despite your protests, the soft bed is too comfortable to resist, and you can already feel your eyelids growing heavy.

"You better not burn the food, or I'll kick your ass," you mutter sleepily, your voice muffled by the thick wooly blankets.

Jason chuckles, a playful smirk on his lips. "Don't worry, I'll give Gordon Ramsay a run for his money."

He lingers by the bed for a moment, his gaze lingering on your form as you snuggle into the blankets, his chest feeling strangely warm at the sight. He shakes his head at the feeling, clearing his throat before speaking again. "Get some rest," he repeats, his tone gentle. "I’ll wake you up later."

He gives you one last look before turning to leave the room. As he walks out, he flicks the lights off to the bedroom, leaving the door open just a crack. He wanted to make sure he could hear you in case you needed anything. He couldn’t risk watching through the cameras, just in case you leave while he’s mid mixing something on the stove and see it.

You respond with a faint hum, already starting to drift off to sleep, the plush bed pulling you into the realms of unconsciousness.

As Jason leaves the room, he can faintly hear your soft, steady breathing, a small sign that you’re drifting off to sleep. He stands in the hallway for a moment, listening to the quiet sighs and puffs of breath that escape past your lips.

After a few moments, he finally turns and heads into the kitchen to start dinner. He mentally goes over the plan, planning to call Alfred to get him to talk Jason through the steps to make a simple noodle dish that he knows you’ll like.

He sighs, shifting through the cupboards for what he’s looking for.

Once he’s prepared, Jason stands in the dimly lit kitchen, a small bowl of ingredients and utensils laid out in front of him. He pulls out his phone, scrolling through his contacts until he reaches the one he was looking for: Alfred Pennyworth.

Before he can hit the call button, Jason hesitates for a moment. Asking Alfred for help wasn’t something he did often, he liked to be a self-sufficient person who could handle things on his own. But this was for you, and he wanted to make sure he didn’t mess it up.

He takes a deep breath and reluctantly hits the call button.

After an excruciatingly long phone call with Alfred, Jason manages to get the instructions he needs to follow to make a simple yet delicious pasta dish. He’d had to endure a few cheeky quips from the older man, who couldn’t help but rib him for asking for help with something as simple as cooking.

Jason places the two plates on the table, a small grimace on his face as he glances at the food. It doesn't look quite like the mouthwatering photo from the restaurant's website that Alfred had shared, but oddly enough, it still looks appetizing. If anything, it’s edible. And he can handle a quip or two from you if it really is that bad.

With a huff, Jason makes his way back to the bedroom, a hand firmly on the handle of the door as he enters. He finds you snuggled up in your bed, fast asleep, the blankets tucked up to your chin. He can’t help the affectionate smile that tugs at his lips at the sight, a small, fluttery feeling in his chest. He’s never really had anyone he’s felt this protective of, not even his other siblings. And seeing you so defenceless in bed brings out all sorts of strange feelings.

He approaches quietly, gingerly sitting down on the edge of the bed. His deep grey eyes study you for a moment, listening to the soft, steady breaths leaving your parted lips. You look so damn peaceful, so damn vulnerable, and it’d be so easy for him to reach over and touch you. Brush some of the hair away from your face, or trace the arch of your brow with his finger.

Jason sighed, poking your cheek softly. Your skin squishing under his calloused finger. You had always looked so fragile in your sleep. Something the family was fond of watching through the cameras, your defencelessness just fuelling their obsession. He’ll have to adjust the dosage of the drug he slipped in your tea. They just couldn’t risk you staying up all night again. You needed rest, and the thought of you accidentally running into him in his vigilante suit gave him a headache.

He had been careful not to give you too much yet, needing you at least conscious for dinner, but he had made sure to administer enough to keep you in a state of drowsiness and mild disorientation. Making sure you would stay tired enough to slip right back into bed after eating.

He pokes your cheek again, a little harder this time. "Wake up, shithead," he mutters, his voice gruff. "You've gotta eat something."

You stir slightly at his touch, a small groaning noise escaping past your lips as you slowly start to wake up. Your eyes flutter open sluggishly, still heavy with sleep and your vision slightly dazed and unfocused.

You blink a few times, trying to clear the fuzziness from your mind. You feel groggy and disoriented, your brain still in a state of haze as you try to wake yourself up enough to sit up. But it’s hard, your body feels sluggish and heavy, and the room seems to be spinning slightly.

Despite the drowsiness, you managed to muster up a weak glare and toss it at Jason, silently expressing your annoyance at being torn away from the peaceful moment of tranquility which was your sleep.

The older boy grins at your weak glare, completely unfazed by your attempted display of annoyance. "Don't give me that look, kid. You gotta eat if you wanna stay healthy."

He pokes your cheek again, his touch light but insistent. "You can go back to sleep after you eat. I made you dinner."

You grumble something unintelligible under your breath, shifting in the bed as you try to sit up. It's a struggle, your body feeling heavy and clumsy, but you manage to force yourself into a sitting position. You give Jason another half-hearted glare, rubbing your eyes with the back of your hand.

"Why do I have to eat now? I'm not even hungry," you complain, your voice thick with sleep.

Jason chuckles at your protest, his tone tinged with amusement. "You're not hungry now, but you'll be starving again in a few hours. And I'm not about to deal with a grumpy, hangry kid while I'm trying to watch a movie." You pout at his words.

He reaches forward, grabbing your arm and pulling you up from the bed, practically forcing you to move. "Come on, up. You're eating, even if I have to stuff it down your throat like a little birdie."

You grimace at the thought. “Gross, dude.”

No use of y/n, no use of any descriptive features for the reader, no gender mentioned.

I tried to make the difference between what everyone calls you obvious — in Dick’s perspective you’re his baby bird, to Tim you’re his little bat, but that’s used in a more literal sense as you’re shorter than him, to finally Jason calling you kid.

All comments, asks, and reblogs are really appreciated! Please comment if you’d like to be tagged.

[sir-adamus]

RWBY started as an amateur project made by a team who had never done anything like it before (Monty's previous animations had been fight scenes for the sake of fight scenes with nothing resembling a plot, and using characters from pre-existing properties. RT's previous output had primarily been comedy machinima, so primarily focus was on the comedic character writing because character and location design were all provided by the medium they were already working within), and only grew in quality and scope as time went on

detractors have always been entitled whiners who never treated it fairly, whether it be over the initial awkward animation (which was because it had a very limited budget, and, again, amateur production), voice acting (amateur production), that there was voice acting at all and it wasn't just non-stop contextless fight scenes (which would've gotten unbelievably dull both to watch and to make - and these people clearly ignored the small narrative and character moments that Monty had included in his previous work), that it wasn't full of adult humour and a comedy show like every other RT property (god forbid creatives branch out) and that it was intruding on anime space by evoking an anime artstyle but not being 'good' (elitist "thing: japan" weebs who think they're the arbitrators of what is and isn't anime and treat their subjective opinions as fact) - who all congealed together into a homogenous mass of obnoxious complaining after Monty died because they could use his absence as a cudgel to attack the show and the team over any aspect of it they didn't like (while pretending like they weren't the ones pissing and moaning like the show was holding them hostage through the first two volumes)

RWBY has always been the punching bag because people abjectly refuse to meet it where it's coming from (an amateur production) and get shirty when it doesn't meet their expectations of what it was going to be (when those expectations weren't the show's fault and weren't ever promised) and they've spent a fucking decade responding to the mere mention of it with bizarrely intense vitriol even when being apparently reasonable on all other topics

[softlymaximoff]

The Sun, Moon and Stars

18+ ONLY MEN & MINORS DNI (blank blogs will be blocked you do not have my permission to republish my work onto any platform.

— A/N: NO ONE DIES DONT WORRY, I’m sorry this took so long to get out, but here it is xx

— Summary: without your sun, the moon could only do so much until she herself was pleading for the warmth of her lover to return.

— Characters: WandaNat x Reader

— Warnings: ANGST, shutting Nat out, missing Wanda hours

— Word Count: 2.5k

Natasha wasn’t a sad person. She didn’t dwell upon the little things or throw a pity party when things didn’t go her way. She was a woman of confidence and bravery. Yet when you caught her staring at the empty picture frame in the living room, your heart shattered just a little bit more.

She didn’t do it often, nor did you point it out when she did. There would be a communal group gathering and she’d just be staring subtly at the mantelpiece holding the frame. It used to be a selfie of you three on one of your monthly picnic dates about a year ago and now the witch was no where to be found. Fury had sent her on a mission, a mission so risky that absolutely no contact was to be made.

After four months Natasha was having doubts of her beautiful girlfriend returning and it was the start of her downfall. You could see it, you could feel it. She was empty, those beautiful green eyes that you adored became dull and grey. You tried to be there for her, you really did. You snuggled with her on days she couldn’t sleep, you’d kiss her temples the way Wanda would, you even learned Wanda’s Sokovian lullabies to ease the redhead’s nightmares.

But she just pushed you further and further away. Wanda was the glue, she was the one who nurtured your insecurities and built a loving and safe space for you three to share them. Now there was nothing left. The training room became Natasha’s sanctum, the punching bags and the ring as her desired therapy. Nobody could drag her out of there, not even the wounded look on your face when she ignored your pleas to come back to bed.

It was coming into the fifth month of the mission and the Russian looked like a completely different person. Her eyes were sunken in, her cheeks hollowed out just that little more and her hair was always in a jagged plait rather than her usual neat braid. Clearly a sign of self neglect. “Tasha” your voice echoed softly throughout the training room as you sat in the ring and watched her work out. “I’m busy” she replied monotonously and hit a harder punch in the training bag. “Okay” you whispered as you just sat there.

You weren’t gonna leave her alone to her thoughts, especially not at this ungodly hour of the morning. The least you could do is be in her presence. Just being around her was enough for you. After a few minutes of staring hopelessly at her you sighed and leant back so you were lying flat on the training mats. What would Wanda say about Natasha? Would they have a big argument again? Would they be better off without your contribution to the relationship? Did they really need you or were you just an extra? Were you the reason they were stressed so much?

You didn’t realise you were actually crying until you felt a few tears run along the sides of your face tickling your cheeks. Not wanting to alert your already pent up girlfriend, you muffled a quiet sniffle in the sleeve of your hoodie, Wanda’s hoodie. With a quick glance towards Natasha, you hoped she hadn’t heard it and by the subtle lip bite she did, you knew she was aware. So you quietly got up from the training mats and cast one more look at your Natty before leaving the room with a heavy sigh ghosting your shadow.

You longed for Wanda, your other heart, your sun, your security. The three of you had a running theme that Wanda was the sun, Nat was the moon and you were the stars but lately the warmth from your sun was getting just a little more foreign with every passing day Wanda was not home. For the moon, she was just as beautiful but when she refused to guide you in the dark while her lover was absent, you felt lost and neglected. So with the well rehearsed routine of shutting out until you were hiding away in a pile of Wanda’s clothing, you kept a brave face and scampered to your shared room.

Letting your body fall into the false security of a hug you broke, body wracking with silenced sobs and suppressed hiccups. It didn’t take long for your body to physically exhaust itself as you cried your way into a restless slumber. The small ballet inspired alarm clock read 4:37am and only then did Natasha return to bed, wordlessly slipping in behind you as her own silent tears hit the back of your neck. Being the big spoon was always her thing, she could protect you even in your sleep yet at the same time be her most vulnerable self without fear of judgement. “We need you Wanda, I need you moy lyubov” she whispered into the crook of your neck and bit her lip to try and silence her pleas.

Hours passed and the two of you stayed asleep, Natasha subconsciously waking up in a panicked state every few hours but you were pretty much dead to the world. With that being said, you were surprisingly awake properly before Natasha was. The spy instinctively gripped your body in her sleep when you tried to get up to go to the bathroom so you had to think relatively quick. You weaved one of Wanda’s hoodies between your bodies and gave a sad smile when the red head let out a small whimper at the familiar smell. It honestly broke your heart to see her so broken and vulnerable. Where the hell was your Wanda.

Your feet padded along the compound floorboards as you made yourself home in the kitchen, routinely making the early riser’s coffees and sticking them in the fridge with little post it notes, something you had picked up from Wanda. God you missed her. You took your lukewarm mug and sat yourself on the small ledge of the windowsill in the lounge room, watching as the world came to life. A few deer in the open training fields complimenting the dewy morning glow on the grass. The sound of the fridge opening made your ears perk up but you refused to turn around, your demeanour too close to crumbling for it to be exposed. It was Kate, she settled herself opposite you and wordlessly joined you in observing the fields. The silence was comfortable, for once. “She’ll be back” the young archer whispered in the chill air as she grabbed your hand.

“How can you be sure, it’s been months” your voice trembled as you took in a shaky breath and squeezed her hand in an act of desperation. “She’s Wanda” Kate mumbled and pulled you in for a hug, your cries finally escaping into her comfort. You were tired, so tired and you were losing all hope. She held you until your cries gently subsided into nothing but hiccups and ragged breaths. Clint was the next one to make themselves known as he rummaged around in the fridge and sat on the sofa, clearly waiting for Kate to escape your grip to train with him. Makes sense as to why Kate was up so early, the girl could sleep for years if she wanted to.

“Sorry Katie, sorry Clint I’ll give her back” you chuckled embarrassedly swiping at your reddened cheeks as you completely pulled away from the younger avenger. “Do you want to come with us? Maybe get your mind off it all?” Clint offered empathetically and you nodded your head bashfully. Taking one last sip of your coffee before gathering up all the dishes to put them in the sink, following them out shortly after. Maybe it was a good idea. Unbeknownst to you Natasha had seen the whole thing from the end of the hallway, too angry at herself to make a sound. She should have been the one comforting you, not her teammates. If she had just put her stupid emotions aside she could be the one being strong for the two of you.

When you were well out of sight she made her way into the kitchen grabbing her breakfast and sitting criss cross at the table. She peeled the post it notes off her cold breakfast bowl gently and coffee mug, putting them in her sleep short pockets. She had kept them, all five months worth of your silly little post it notes to have some sense of Wanda with her. She was almost finished her breakfast when Yelena came into the kitchen, Kate’s old band tee hanging off her shoulder and a pair of her boxers. “Put some clothes on cytka, it’s 8am” Natasha grumbled and Yelena just flipped her off, snatching a strawberry of her sister’s bowl.

“Any news on Wanda?” She asked softly when she got comfortable opposite of Nat. “No” the redhead sighed and dropped her spoon, now just playing with her oats and fruit bowl. “She’ll be home soon sestra, I promise” the blonde moved to stand beside her sister and the older widow turned into her letting a few tears slip out. Yelena hadn’t seen Nat cry much, only one time when she accidentally tore a muscle in her already scarred left shoulder and another when she lost her arrow necklace this one time. “It’s so hard Lena, I need my Wanda” Natasha pleaded into her sisters embrace and Yelena struggled to hold back her own tears. Her sister was broken. Truly broken.

The siblings kept their small comforts until Yelena physically felt Nats heart rate slow down a little, kissing her head to mimic how their mother used to when they were little. “Pain only makes you stronger Natty, you’re the strongest person I know after Mama” Yelena mumbled and her sister just sighed deeply before pulling away from the hug, sniffling into her sleeve. “Thank you Lena, Kate’s training with Clint in the shooting range if you want to see her before your debrief meeting this morning” the older widow informed and Yelena said her thanks before scampering her way in that direction. She’d never admit it but she was whipped for the archer.

Natasha sat at the table for a while, clearing her bowl early on and the woman just sat there. She pulled her knees up and hugged them, the smell of Wanda’s hoodie reeling her into a false sense of familiarity as she buried her head in her knees. “Please come home” she whispered into the soft fabric, her pleas falling on deaf ears as the kitchen held a sorrowful silence. Something deep inside her belly decided to lead her to the communal record player and throw on a vinyl that the three of you would listen to when you were missing one. She skipped training that day and just sat by the record player all day, flipping through albums of artists that made her think of Wanda. That’s where you found her by noon. Two empty coffee cups and a half eaten peanut butter and jelly sandwich next to her as company.

With a soft look in your eyes, you decided to let her be, for once she wasn’t overworking herself and was showing some emotion. You weren’t about to interrupt her and make her shut off again. So you found your way into one of Tony’s smaller labs and busied yourself with some new suit mechanics, after all you could do with a new upgrade. You lost track of time pretty easily as you were drowning in new ways for functions to work stealthily into your suit that when FRIDAY alerted you with a time break you flinched. “I’m afraid Mr Stark has is now locking up this room. Your time stamp in Novo-Electrics presents at 4:38:30h. Do you wish to finish up your suit mechanics in your remaining 7 minutes or shall I save your work for next time?” The A.I politely informed you and you asked to save until next time.

You gathered up your plannings on the scrap material paper and put them back in your design folder, securing the instructions with tape on the front page so you wouldn’t forget next time. “Thank you FRIDAY, you can lock up now, can you also let Tony know that he’s got stupid rules” you rolled your eyes at the billionaire’s rules. He always made sure every room has a time limit and an hourly digital check up on your health so no one was spending their life in one room.

You stepped around the compound quietly as it was currently dinner time and you didn't necessarily want to be around people who weren't Wanda. You were almost at your room when a sneaky blonde grabbed your arm and pulled you into her own room. "Yelena wha-" "Quiet, listen to me" she whispered in a hush and you furrowed your brows as she sat you down on her bed. "Please try and talk to Natasha, she doesn't say much but her eyes say it all. Please don't give up on my sister" her russian accent sounding vulnerable and soft instead of her ususal rough and intimidating accent.

"I'm not giving up on her, not now not ever. She's all I have left, I can't lose her too" you looked down and tried to hide the way those words stung. Yelena just sighed and pulled you in for a gentle but firm hug. "She'll be back, trust me" her hope for Wanda really made you want to believe but there had been no contact for so long that hope was a foreign concept.

"Lena dinner is- oh sorry" Natasha trailed off in an awkward stutter as she saw you sitting on Yelena's bed with tear stained cheeks. "No no uh its okay, I'll just be in my room I'll eat later" you rushed out and started to escape the room but Nat's quick grip on your upper forearm made you freeze. "Have dinner with us, with me" she whispered in a strained voice and those damn green eyes clouded over ever so slightly. "Are you sure? I don't want to intrude" you looked down and fumbled your hands in your sleeves, hitching your breath when Nat tilted your chin back up.

"You've never been an intruder, not now or with Wanda here. Your still ours moya lyubov" "Yours. She's gone Nat 100%" you crumbled in her arms. Yelena slipped out of the room and into the dining room to let you have your space and you couldn't have felt more foolish. You were missing Wanda heavily as was Natasha. You needed her but the Widow needed you. "Please don't shut me out my love, I need you too please. I need you" Nat's voice broke and in that moment, so did your heart.

[koimethehorizon]

Amazing Digital Circus Theory: Gangle is an NPC

Sooo, I wasn’t expecting to talk about this show. I was perfectly content to just enjoy Digital Circus as is.

It’s a show that invites theories as to what exactly’s going on with the setting and characters, but I didn’t have much room to think too hard about it. Who’s Abel? Is Pomni really a human? Why is this VR game emulating an N64 game at the start? I like the show plenty, but it just wasn’t as interesting to go hard on any of those questions at the time.

But with this recent episode… a single, perhaps throwaway line got the brain nagging. And it’s kind of a bizarre one to waste hours analyzing.

Okay, so yeah, it’s a joke on submissive and breedable. (Don’t give them ideas) But try taking it at face value.

What does he mean by this? Sure, Jax is an asshole, and being a bullied kid is Gangle’s whole archetype… but what if it means a little more than that?

Gangle’s trapped for all eternity this asshole and she’s just letting him boss her around. Zooble can choose not to participate, so no one has to. Why does Gangle listen to Jax at all?

Let's entertain a thought: Is Gangle an NPC?

With Episode 2 bringing so much attention to the autonomy of NPCs, it seemed natural to start pointing fingers at characters being this or that. But this isn't just a random crackshot, I feel that there is a story to tell here.

Look back at Pomni’s “orientation” with the other humans. Ragatha, Zooble, and Jax ease her by saying that they’ve been trapped in this world for years and then bring attention to Kinger being the oldest.

But Gangle… she’s isolated from the peanut gallery, busy moping about the broken comedy mask instead.

Every character has been given some hints as to how they’ve been coping with the situation. Jax no longer empathizes with anything, Ragatha once had trouble adjusting but now tries to stay happy, Zooble picks and chooses her involvement, Kinger is the eldest and just exists for the hell of it, and Pomni is new to everything.

With Gangle, it’s a blank. No opinion, no hints of her human side, how long she’s been here, no thoughts on the games, nothing. She’s just Jax’s punching bag.

Even Kinger gets a potshot on Gangle in a rock-paper-scissors game…. and he likely forgot that she doesn’t have hands!

And that brings me to another detail. Doesn't Gangle look different from the others?

Unlike everyone else, Gangle's just a mask and a ribbon. No hands or legs, or just any limbs in general. She stands out as looking a bit simpler than the others.

Gangle's most interesting design trait is that she's based on comedy and tragedy masks. The ones used old Greek theater to dictate the emotions of their characters.

The first episode seems to imply that with a broken comedy mask, Gangle literally can’t stay happy. Hence why we see her sad most of the time. That's a strange limitation if Gangle's human mind is supposed to be completely intact, especially with how expressive the other characters can be.

It's not delved into too much but does Gangle actually rely on these masks to "feel" emotions?

The obvious hole is that Caine would’ve just killed her a while ago if she was an NPC, but he's not exactly omniscient.

He even admits that he has to kill them off because it’s possible for him to lose track.

Now normally I could just stop here, but I’m all about the grand statements. You know, the retroactive readings of an episode once you get a theory going. Why does Gangle being an NPC matter at all? How does Ep 2 change?

While deep diving, I realized that the thematic core of Episode 2 is Pomni and Jax’s approaches to surviving the Digital Circus.

In Pomni’s A plot, we see her connecting with Gummigoo, the NPC that Caine pitted their group against. After discovering him lamenting his new reality, she finds a strange comfort in being existentially lost together. Because in the end the NPCs and the humans are just as displaced and frightened in this meaningless world.

In Jax’s B plot, he forces Gangle to follow some insane orders. Sabotage the game to let the big chocolate turd monster destroy the Candy Kingdom. To Jax, he is the main character. Helping or displeasing this giant population of fake people doesn’t have any consequence for him, so why humor anyone but yourself?

A bit of a stretch, but what if Jax already knows Gangle is an NPC and is keeping it quiet as long as Gangle follows orders, hence the “submissive” comment? He’d be a way more unpleasant character with this reading, but it doesn’t seem off the cards with how he treats everyone anyway.

This dichotomy already plays out well within the episode, but when reframing it as Pomni and Gummigoo vs Jax and Gangle, the parallel is a lot more interesting.

Make an NPC an equal, they die. But keep an NPC under wraps as long as they continue to obey you… they live.

The episode ends with a grim conundrum that NPCs can’t be together with the humans, not because of their differences but because they're just... not allowed to be. But what if one already in the group, proving that they’re just as capable as the humans to play the games and grieve loved ones together?

PS. Despite knowing everyone else's name, I actually forgot Gangle's until I started finding evidence for this intrusive thought. Sorry Gangle.

PSS. I couldn't fit this anywhere, but Gangle's door frame doesn't work as evidence against the NPC theory, because even the mannequins have their own rooms in that hallway.

[darlingdreadwrites]

Omfg omfg omfg omfg ggogggiffuuk. That toby x final girl reader was too good I feel like I'm floating....could you do a Jeff x final girl reader?

i hope you enjoy this! sorry if it’s too much of a long read…

pairing: Jeff the Killer x Final Girl F!Reader

summary: you had anticipated a nice road trip with your boyfriend and some friends. when you're forced to stay at a motel for the night, you wished you had stayed home.

contains: Jeff the Killer getting a little crushy wushy on you (sorry i couldn't help it LOL), good ol' slasher shenanigans, Jeff unknowingly getting revenge for you

warnings: violence, gore, NSFW (ESPECIALLY UNDER THE RED DIVIDER), masturbation, insinuation of SA (nothing explicit, but can be read that way), a knife, character deaths, horror/slasher cliches

word count: 3.8k

masterlist

a.n: y'all i did not expect the attention i would get from the toby fics. I LOVE YOU ALL THANK YOU SO MUCH!! i know most of you followed for toby, but i got a request for jeff, so here you go!

This road trip was supposed to be fun. Your boyfriend—Tony—had promised you that. He promised that you’d have a great time. He promised that he would give you all his undivided attention. He promised he’d reign in his creepy friend’s weird comments. He’d promised he wouldn’t let his anger get to him.

“Jesus, old man. Just start the pumps back—“

But said old man interrupts him. They’d been going at this for a good few minutes now. “I cannot do that. You will have to come tomorrow. There’s a nice, luxury motel my buddy runs just up the road.”

“Listen,” Tony lets out a deep breath to try and control himself before he jumps over the counter to strangle the poor man. “We’re only trying to get out of this town, man. It is just one car.”

“If I start the oil back up, I’dun have to start it up for ev’rybody,” the man shakes his head, and I know he’s itching to keep up with the Southern Hospitality act.

You start to space out, having gotten used to Tony’s temper. You just wanted to sleep, no matter where. You spin on your heel and start walking down the candy aisle. There's a buzzing sound above you and you look up to see a flickering light. You swear you can make out the black dots of bugs that are being burnt to a crisp by the blinding lights. 

You almost scream as someone jumps next to you – seemingly out of nowhere – before you realize that it’s just your friend Stephanie. “Whachu want, girl?”

“Steph—“ You whisper-yell, and the girl only giggles. You shove her lightly and turn your attention back on the rows of different sugary confections. She looks up to see Tony still arguing with the gas station attendant. 

 “How long is he gonna keep doing that?” She asks you. You shrug in response. After a few silent moments, she walks around you. “Gonna calm him down.” 

“Mhm,” you hum and pick up a bag that is interesting to you. You squeeze it for no other reason than to hear the familiar crinkle of the plastic. From the corner of your eye, you can make out a figure walking over to you. You bristle already as Don’s cologne already starts to make your eyes sting. 

“You gonna get that?” He asks you and you want to immediately punch the cocky grin off his face. 

“No, just looking,” you answer simply. You place the candy bag back in its spot and cross your arms. 

“You’re already so hostile,” he chuckles, poking your side. You take a step to the side, putting more space between you. “Dude, come on. I’m just playing.” 

Don was never “just playing.” You almost learned that the hard way. 

“I think we're almost leaving,” mumbling, you turn to leave. He scoffs and stays in his spot as you walk toward Tony. Stephanie plays idly with her hair — not helping to calm Tony in the slightest. 

You were about to respond when a man nearly slams you to the ground. You catch yourself on your boyfriend’s back, who only noticed the interaction when you bumped into him. 

 “Watch it, asshole—” he shouts. 

You snap your head in the direction of the door, but the man was already gone. The bell hanging from the door almost flew off — you only caught a glimpse of white.

“You know what? Fine.” Tony glares at the worker. “Let’s just go to this shitty-ass motel and sleep with bed bugs, guys. Thanks for nothing, motherfucker.”

Stephanie and Don snicker, and your face burns from embarrassment.

“Luxury motel” my ass, you thought. This place was the dingiest shit hole you’d ever seen. It was a classic two-story nightmare that you would see in a horror movie. There was only one other car but yours, and you could see the grime on the walls from the car. The rust that clung to the metal railings on the upper level streaked down like old bloodstains. Half of the lights on the neon sign that perched from the roof were dead — making it read as “Mo.” But there was nothing your group could do tonight. There was only enough gas to drive back to the gas station tomorrow.

After securing the rooms — and Tony weirdly insisting that you and him have a room upstairs while your friends were downstairs — you all decided to head to the pool. That was the most normal your group had ever been in a while. You played around with them as they splashed water on each other, and Tony even got a little clingy. You missed that feeling of his body enveloping yours in his warmth – and not just for sex.

“I am so tired,” Stephanie exclaims as she climbs out of the pool. You follow behind her and grab your towel. Stephanie pauses and turns to look at you. “Hey, have you guys seen my key?”

“Didn’t you bring it?” You tilt your head to the side, wrapping your towel around you.

“I thought I did. Where the fuck—did one of you guys take it?” She looks over your shoulder to look at the two men. They only shook their heads. “Ugh. Guess I have to talk to that weirdo at the front desk. What was this name again? Miles? Mickey?”

“Micheal,” you correct her, suppressing a smile.

“Oh, yeah,” she giggled. “Micheal Myers.”

As you walk back upstairs to your room, you can’t help but walk a little closer to Tony. You felt shiver spreading like ice under your skin. An invisible force made you feel heavier, as if someone’s eyes were pressing into your back. The prickling sensation of the hairs on your body raising caused you to turn your head to look behind your shoulder.

“Scared?” The sound of your boyfriend’s voice causes you to look straight ahead. Both of you had stopped just in front of the stairs – you hadn’t realized.

“This place is so creepy,” is all you say.

The motel room was just as shitty as the outside, but at least it was warm. The lights were all a disgusting yellow color against the fake wood paneling. There was a small TV sitting on an aged drawer, a desk with a table, and a singular bed that you could already smell the dust from. You remind yourself to urge Tony not to use the thick blanket when you sleep.

You had just received a text from Stephanie saying she was going to sleep when Tony stepped out of the bathroom. You sent a quick message back to your friend before putting the phone down on the bed. You smiled up at Tony as he walked over to your side. He cupped your chin – sending a wave of heat through your whole body – before he lets it fall back to his side.

“I’m going to Don’s room downstairs,” he informs you and your face falls.

“Why?” You ask before you can stop yourself.

“He brought his PS4,” he says it like it’s obvious.

Of course.

“’Kay, well,” you swallow your disappointment. “Take the key. I’m not waking up to let you back in.”

“My own girl would let me sleep outside?” He looks at you with a lopsided grin, tilting his head. You can’t help but smile back. He hadn’t called you that in a while.

“I could. Now go.”

“Bye, baby,” he chuckles and turns to leave.

Your eyes stay trained on the back of his head until it’s blocked by the closing of a door. You bite at the inside of your cheek. You close your eyes, reinviting the tiredness you had felt earlier. Lifting the blanket, you slide down beneath it, settling into a lying position. An odd, old smell wafts from the sheets, but the warmth provides a comfort that you need.

You’re woken up from your slumber by the sound of a blaring car alarm. The walls do nothing to muffle the sound of the piercing, repetitive wail. Surely any member of your group could do it, and you wouldn’t need to get up. After another minute, you toss the blankets off you and swing your legs over the edge of the mattress. Sliding your shoes on, you stand up.

The keys jingle as you pick them up and stomp over to the door. You stick half of your body out of the door and point at the keys in the general direction of the car. That didn’t work. You groan and walk outside to get closer to the railing – the door closes behind you. Oh shit. But it was too late when you turned around. Pressing down on the right key fob, the car finally shuts up. You try the door anyway. No luck. The only one with the room key is Tony.

You walk down the stairs of the motel. In the distance, you could see Don still at the pool. Funny, you thought. Wasn’t he supposed to be playing with Tony? Maybe he got bored of watching your boyfriend. Walking over to Don’s room, a noise captures your attention. It’s not talking, more like moaning and giggling – from Stephanie’s room. You realized that you could see a crack of light coming from the door – it hadn’t been fully closed. You snicker, thinking of how you’d tease her for being desperate enough to get with Don.

Wait, but… you just saw Don. Still at the pool. And there had been no sign of Tony.

Slowly, and with an anxious flutter in your chest, you step in front of the door. The door stays miraculously silent as you gently push it open. You swear that your heart stops beating. There, on Stephanie’s bed, the pair are writhing against each other. Tony mouths at the side of her throat, while your friend’s arms are snaking under his shirt. You slammed the door as your heart threatens to jump out of your throat. You walk away, dazed – ignoring the loud sounds that emit from the closed room.

The air in the room was heavy with the scent of copper and the drone of the motel lights above. Jeff is leaning over the bodies of Stephanie and Tony, his blade dripping red as he finishes the final carving of a grotesque grin on Tony’s face. He’s precise with his movements – like an artist putting the final strokes to their masterpiece. Jeff had to reposition the bitch back on top of the girl he was swapping spit with. God, he could still see the look of horror on their faces. Her skin was pale and dull, with a similar smile etched onto her features.

He straightens up and takes a step back, assessing his work, and his head tilted. He’d really outdone himself this time, he thought. Jeff smirks, reveling in his sick joke. He lazily wipes his blade on Tony’s sleeve – not that it made a difference. These two were coated in blood he had fun playing with.

The shrill scream slices through his moment of silence – it had come from outside. He freezes before his head snaps toward the door. Who was that? His pulse accelerates, not from fear, but from curiosity. He walks to the door, another wide grin on his face. He cracks it open enough to peek his head through, the sound drowned out by the lingering echoes of the scream.

Jeff can see you on the second floor, standing frozen in place and trembling. His eyes travel down to the crumpled body on the floor – it was the other guy. Don, or whatever. His body lays in an unnatural position, and he can see the man’s lifeless face. His jaw was out of place, jutting out like an extreme underbite. Jeff would’ve cackled if he wasn’t meant to be quiet. That’s what’s so boring about targeting a group of people. He had to be quiet until everyone was dead. Which they all were, eventually.

But, then, his eyes flicker to you again. You weren’t crying like he thought you would be. You were just… there – you didn’t even look down to make sure your buddy was okay. Just one peek was enough for you – got you hollering like a pig – but you weren’t crying or running for the cops. He leans out further as you mechanically walk over to the stairs. The split second of fear he had seen on your face was all but gone. Your shock had made you numb, and you would just walk around it like it was nothing. Like your friend’s mangled body was just a bug.

“Oh, you’re fucked up,” Jeff whispered, a smirk on his face.

That excited him. He would be the one to get you crying in terror soon.

Nothing seemed real anymore. You were sure this was some kind of nightmare. That’s why you didn’t care. You just walked over to the ice machine – ignoring Don’s body on the floor – and grabbed a handful of ice. You don’t waste another second and shove as many ice cubes in your mouth as you could. Some had slipped out and crackled against the concrete floor. The pieces that skittered away had flown at your feet. But you didn’t feel it. You didn’t feel anything.

As you crunch on the ice, you slide some of the remaining pieces over your skin. The stinging cold that you would usually feel was replaced by a slight buzzing under your skin. You’re not sure whether you’re glad you can’t feel anything or not. You just wanted to sleep now.

Oh, right. The room key.

Letting the remaining ice cubes fall to the floor, you spun to head in the direction of the lobby. You didn’t want to deal with seeing your boyfriend’s tongue in your best friend’s mouth. You decided that you’d deal with them tomorrow. You didn’t care anymore. And they didn’t care either, it seemed. That’s why they didn’t come out running after you, right? They didn’t care enough to even pretend like they felt guilty. Tony wasn’t groveling at your feet, and Stephanie wasn’t crying her eyes out – begging you to still be her best friend. They had to know it was you that came into the room and slammed the door.

The lights overhead were a dull, sterile white compared to the yellow of the rooms – but it still smelled like piss. You could hear some sports game being played on a tiny, clunky box TV. But there was no sign of the owner. You turned your head from side to side but saw no sign of the fat old man. When you look back at the front desk, you notice the small rack of candy. Fuck it, you shrug as you reached a hand out and grab one. The numb buzz was starting to die down, but there was still no sense of real fear. Just the same tiredness you felt all day.

Guess you’d have to speed up the reunion early, huh?

The door to the room was slightly ajar once again. You had closed it, you remembered that. Maybe they had gone looking for you. Or at least when you had screamed. You nudged the door open with your foot.

Dropping the bag of candy on the floor, you felt bile rising in your throat. Your heart stopped for what seemed like the third time tonight. You honestly wished it would stop forever.

The putrid stench of the blood – let alone the sight of it – attacks your senses and made your head spin. The bodies were positioned as if they were frozen in a perverse display of intimacy. Tony’s face was right up on Stephanie’s, her cheek was being pulled on by Tony’s teeth to make it look like he was eating her face. Your stomach churned and eyes brimmed with hot tears. Doubling over, you retched onto the already stained carpet in the room.

You staggered backward, your legs threatening to give out as they shook. But you managed to take quicks steps back in the direction of the lobby. Your blood seemed to rush to your head, and you could’ve mistaken the pumping for the sound of drums. You wanted to scream and cry and throw up all at once. You wanted out.

Rounding the corner, the motel owner stepped out of a nearby room just a few feet in front of you. You could see the sweat on his shirt as he fiddled with the key ring – he was locking a door. He raised a hand to wipe some sweat from his brow, oblivious to your approach.

Your heart pounded as you stopped dead in your tracks. His actions were so mundane compared to the horror you had just witnessed. It made your stomach do flips. This was just another night for him. Another night of fixing the rooms and watching football on his TV.

“Sir-sir,” you tried to speak, but it came out in a shaky rasp.

Micheal turned to you, his brows raising in surprise. You had startled him. He gave you a once-over before smiling. “Is there anything I can do for you, miss?”

“They’re…” Your lips trembled as you tried to get the words to come out of your mouth instead of puke. You knew you were inaudible, but you didn’t have the strength to speak properly. “They’re… all… They’re dead.”

“I’m sorry, hon,” he leaned forward and squinted. “What was that? I didn’t quite catch—”

The man’s eyes widened and a wet, gargle emitted from his mouth as it hung open. Blood poured from the side of his neck, and a hand shot out to grab his shoulder and stabilize him. There was a squelching sound as the knife was dragged just above the owner’s shoulder. He crumples forward, sending a shower of blood your way, and some of it fills your mouth before you close it tight. Your eyes follow the sight of the keys that land with a soft jingle at your feet.

You stare at the man responsible for only a second. His scarred, unnaturally pale face is framed by jet-black hair that falls wildly across his face. It casts shadows onto his skin, especially his sunken-in, hollow eyes. They’re wide as they stare at you – cold and vacant. His most defining and spine-chilling feature is the wide, carved out smile on his face. It looked like it had scabbed over months ago, but it was still glaringly present. If this man was human, he didn’t look it.

But you act faster than you or he anticipated. You dive for the keys, picking them off the ground, when, suddenly, you feel a hand grab your wrist. He pulls you back up, bringing you closer to his body.

Just when you thought it was all over, you realize that the man is just staring at you. You feel his warm breath hit your face, and you can’t tear your eyes away from him. You’re confused, and it seems that so is he. Using this to your advantage, you smash the ring of keys into the side of his head.

As he howls out in pain, you break free and take a few steps back. You turn and bolt in the direction of a beat-up truck – the only other vehicle in the parking lot. Your hands shook and you clutched at the keys held tightly in your palm. It felt like you could suffocate with the heavy, tense air that surrounded you.

You cursed under your breath as you tried – and failed – to fit the key into the car door. The sound of the jingling only heightened your sense of panic. The key finally slipped into the lock, and you let out a quiet whimper. You yanked the car open, not daring to turn around.

Jeff simply watched you with a wide grin on his face. He was amused by your desperation – elated by the thrill of hunting you down. When the car clicked open, something in him clicked. His smile faltered as the realization that you were almost getting away hit him hard. With quick movements, he sprinted toward you and rounded the car to the driver’s seat.

You practically flew into the driver’s seat and slammed the door just as Jeff’s knife made contact with the window. The loud, grating sound of metal meeting glass caused you to scream. But you continued your attempt to get away. You jam the keys into the ignition, ignoring the hand slamming into the window.

“You bitch,” he snarled, banging on the glass. “I’m gonna gut you like a pig when I get my fucking hands on you!”

The tires of the car screech as you threw it into gear, jerking it backwards. Jeff continued to try and slice through the window, the sharp blade leaving a jagged mark. He took a step back to avoid his foot getting run over by one of the tires. He watches as you manically speed out of the parking lot, his figure getting smaller in the rearview mirror.

Your breath was coming out in short bursts, and your heart pounded wildly. As you drive off, you get one final look at him. He just stands in the parking lot, his own chest rising and falling rapidly. He doesn’t chase your stolen car, but you can tell that his mind is thinking of how he can enact his revenge. For now, he’s proud that you’ve gotten away just this time.

Two Weeks Later

Jeff couldn’t stop thinking about you. He very rarely lets people get away on his sprees. Not that he was going to let you live, don’t be fucking stupid. He knew how to find you and what he’d do. The man was just biding his time. He wanted the time to be right. He wanted to make it special for you.

The thing was, that second guy – the one that was crushed on the floor – that wasn’t Jeff’s kill. And, as far as he knew, it wasn’t poor old Micheal’s either. You did that. Something had made you snap. And Jeff knew that feeling all too well. Just what had that useless motherfucker done to you? Must’ve been bad enough to cause a sweet little thing like you to break.

He… sympathized with you. In a very stupid way that he hated. But he also loved the blank look in your eyes as your brain numbed you to the act you acted on. That made him want you, oh, so badly.

He could make as many excuses as he wanted, but he wanted you. His mind replayed the whole thing like a movie. He thought about you while he trained, while he maimed, while he slept. And especially while pumping his hand along his cock. He’d stare up at the ceiling, mouth hanging open as low moans dragged out from his throat. He thought of the way your face twisted in fear, the blood that spattered on you, and oh that felt just right. That’s why he needed to see you again. He wanted you. He wanted you. He wanted you.

He hoped you were prepared.

[ohtobeleah]

Bruises // Jake Seresin

Summary: After a mission goes south, Jake finds himself captured by insurgents that show no remorse. But what’s worse than knowing he failed his mission? Knowing that the Weapons Systems Officer who trusted him to bring her home safe was in the same cell as him. Collecting bruises that match his own.

Mini Series Warnings: Heavy themes of violence, sexual assault, torture. 18+ content. Minors DNI. Mature themes. Being held in captivity. Hostage style situation. Main character death! Whump, Angst. Conversations that discuss antisocial & antisemitism views.

Author Note: THIS SERIES IS CONFRONTING, FICTIONAL, AND DEPICTS IMAGES OF TORTURE. DO NOT READ PAST THIS POINT IF YOU BELIEVE THAT THIS SERIES WILL BE DETRIMENTAL TO YOUR MENTAL STABILITY. CURATE YOUR OWN TIMELINE.

Chapter One: [Happily Ever Afters Don’t Exist] A certain naval aviator shows up on your front doorstep right on cue. Because when the nightmares are too hard to handle on their own? You and Jake find solace in one another’s presence. (2.5k ) (Out Now)

Chapter Two: [Tactile Takedown] When a missile is headed right for Roosters F-18, Jake makes a decision that could end up costing you your life. (4.4k) (Out Now)

Chapter Three: [In The Arms Of The Enemy] Both you and Jake come face to face with the man you only know as ‘The Commander’ who you soon find out has very little patience for bullshit. (4.6k) (Out Now)

Hotshot: The moments before you were brought into your cell & the memory that haunted Jake Seresins mind. (1.3k )

Chapter Four: [Men & Their Many Masks] You and Jake find yourselves alone in his cell for what feels like a week. Passing the time with mundane conversations. But when The Commander and his fellow officers finally come back? Things take a turn for the worst. (5.3k) (Out Now)

Chapter Five: [Emerald City:] *** You’re forced against your will by three insurgents all the while Jake helplessly watches on. In return? He’s given a gift made only for the broken hearted. (4.8k) (Out Now)

Chapter Six: [Ninety in Five] *** Hours, Days, Weeks, Months. Just how long have you and Jake been enduring the horrific torture at the hands of a Rogue Nations Commander. (5.4k) (Out Now)

Chapter Seven: [War Wounds in the Ward] When help finally arrives, Jake believes it may be too late. The extent of both your injuries are finally revealed and the both you come face to face with the reality of just how long you’d been held in captivity for. (7.4k) (Out Now)

Chapter Eight: [The Platform] When Jake wakes up beside you after seeking refuge in your company, he’s forced to face a nightmare he thought would only ever exist in his mind. (1.6k) (Out Now)

Epilogue: [Before, During & Never After] There one place Jake Seresin knows where to find you after he’s woken by a startling bark. (1.6k) (Out Now)

Concepts / Blurbs.

-> [Don’t Wanna Miss My Stop] Jake Overdoses

-> [Don’t Blame Me] Jake doesn’t blame himself for how you died. He blames himself for why you died.

-> [Protect Thy Saviour] When Jake and Hollywood are enjoying a fire in the comfort and silence of Jake’s courtyard, Hollywood reminds Jake that nothing was ever his fault.

-> [The Hills Have Eyes] Jakes mind plagues him with haunting memories at your funeral. Bradley is forced to come to terms with the fact he'll be Jake Seresins metaphorical punching bag for the rest of his life.

Status: Complete

Life After Death Spin off Series

[dr-spectre]

Hey all, so i wanted to discuss something a little bit different compared to my usual Splatoon ramblings because i have something that's been floating in my brain for a while now and I really wanna talk about it! But don't worry, I'll tie it back to Splatoon in this blog post!

So i have been seeing a lot of criticisms towards the new "hit game" Concord and a lot of it is very VERY well deserved. And one of the MANY criticisms is aimed towards the character designs and mostly on these characters who have become punching bags for the entire gaming community.

NOW! Let me come and say it, i am NOT going to be defending these designs at all, i am NOT a professional character designer but, these designs are flat-out dogshit and it's not for the reasons you think. I am not saying these character designs are bad because "WAHH!!!! FAT PEOPLE!!! WAHH!!! I HATE BLACK PEOPLE!! WAHH!! I CAN'T GOON TO THIS CHARACTER NOOO!!! WAHHH!!! I ONLY WANT STRAIGHT WHITE BARBIE DOLLS TO JERK OFF TO!! WAHH!!" If you're someone like... ahem.... asmondgold. And whine about how you can't goon to these characters and you're scared of fat and black people. Then you need to fuck off and genuinely go outside. And like... Idk, jump into a pit of lava.

The reasons why these designs suck is because they have terrible silhouettes, poor balancing, too many random colours that have no harmony whatsoever, lack of strong shapes and a lack of any clear cut qualities to tell us who the fuck these characters are. A good character design will tell you who a character is based on looks alone.

Let's take a look at how to properly do character design in a video game, shall we?

We will first start off with an iconic tank character, Heavy from TF2.

Heavy has a strong use of squares on his body, arms and hands, showing us that he is a strong and meaty character. Squares are used in larger characters to show that they are durable and strong. Heavy also has appropriate accessories on his body to show us what kind of character he is, like his bandolier, pouch, fingerless gloves and tactical looking vest. His legs are also small compared to the rest of his body which tells us that he probably isn't the fastest runner out there.

All of these simple design decisions the characters designers chose to include add up to create an iconic character who you can gather that he is a large and in charge weapons expert from the design alone.

Tell me something, what the FUCK do you get from this character?

He's a big person... That's it. I can barely gather any sort of character traits from this character. There's nothing. THEIR GUN IS FUCKING BORING TOO! AT LEAST HEAVY HAS A BIG ASS GUN! THAT'S JUST A BASIC BITCH ASSUALT RIFILE!

Now let's look at another iconic tank character. Reinhardt from Overwatch.

Reinhardt has a VERY strong silhouette, with his iconic helmet with the 3 spikes/horns, his giant shoulder pads, the pointy tips on his boots, his... groan... flap? thingy? idfk what that is but anyways, Reinhardt is an iconic tank character because his design is super well balanced, his concept of a futuristic knight is dope, and the lion emblem on arm showcase Rein's personality and origins.

I genuinely get nothing from this design. Like... Fuck all, i get NOTHING!!!

They are a tank character with a big gun... Okay? Is there... any cool details? Uh... there's a tiny flag.... What the fuck is that supposed to tell me about the character? The silhouette is boring, the character looks like a Fallout knock off. It's just... BORING!!

I could talk about the other tanks in Overwatch and how incredibly well designed they are compared to Concord's "anchors" and other classes but i don't wanna be here all day. Just know that D.VA slaps, Doomfist slaps, Ramattra slaps, ALL OF THEM SLAP HARD AND HAVE SUPER GOOD SILHOUETTES AND COLOURS!!

Now for our final "tanky" design, let's roll it back to Splatoon and talk about a character who is bigger compared to the rest of the cast.

BIG MAN!

His silhouette is actually so well done and is a masterpiece in character design, it is so incredibly distinctive and unique from other characters. He has a unique headpiece too, he has these droopy eyes that give him a relaxed look. He has some cool patterns, he's just a really well designed character that you can gather his personality from really well.

The reason why Concord's character designs fail is because it feels like Sony brought in a novice fashion designer to make characters in an hour and call it a day. The only designs from that game i can say with my full chest are okay are these guys, and even then they have ISSUES!

Haymar is supposed to be this fire user yet nothing tells me that they use fire. It's so easy to... oh i don't know... USE MORE RED?!?!? ADD FIERY PATTERNS?!?! WHY IS SHE COVERED IN FUCKING ANAL BEADS?!??! HELLO?!?!??

Roka is just.. fine, her colours suck but... I guess i like the helmet?

When the best looking characters out of your fucking 5V5 HERO SHOOTER are just... eh? You know got a massive problem. If we take a game like TF2 you can see just how well the designs are at showing the player what kind of personality and traits they have.

Scout has rolled up pants with tight socks on, bandages on his hands and a cap on his head, showing us that Scout is a fast and somewhat reckless character who gets into trouble but can get out due to his speed and wit. Medic has a simple pallet of white and red which are common colours used in hospitals and doctors. I could go on but you get the point.

If you're going to create a new hero shooter with a large roster, for the love of god, actually have characters with better silhouettes, colour balancing, accessories, etc.

Take a page out of their books and come back with a better fucking game. Or not. Sony... You piece of shit. You ain't beating the "PS5 has no games" allegations with these wack ass games. (This is coming from someone who has a PS5.)

[freyito]

ᴛʀɪᴄᴋ ᴏʀ ᴛʀᴇᴀᴛ! ⨟ ʙᴏᴏᴛʜɪʟʟ

✭ pairing(s): boothill x gn reader

✩ in which: he celebrates halloween with you.

✧ a/n: i wanna do a nice little short series for a select few characters for halloween... basically the idea is . trick is the silly and annoying things they'd do on halloween and treat is the stupidly sweet and sappy things theyd do on halloween. no promise on which characters will be a part of this series! it could range from twisted wonderland to elden ring el oh el

✦ taglist: @fffrost, @shinysora

→ trick or treat masterlist

🗒 cw: gn reader, just fluff :P, DAD BOOTHILL!!!, not proofread

✎ wc: 610

Trick

Boothill is a little shit during Halloween. If he’s able to settle down with you, you’re in for a lot of stupid scares. If you’re afraid of horror but still in the mood for some scary movies, he’s making sure you’ve got nothing to hold on to aside from him. He’s poking at your sides, trying to make you take your hands away from your eyes or look at the screen when a particularly scary scene plays. Ain’t no fun in watchin’ it alone!

He’ll find a way to drag you off to some sort of haunted house, or festival with scare actors. He’s seen so much, a few actors jumping out at him and screaming doesn’t get to him. But if it makes you flinch, even a little bit, you’re subjected to such torture. He laughs whenever you jump or swear or cover your mouth, and it makes you want to punch him in the gut right then and there. Don’t think about trying to wiggle your way out of it, he acts all sad and defeated if you don’t go out with him.

At home, he is equally annoying. Hiding around corners, staring at you from said corners until you notice, cackling when you scream, and many more. One time you woke up to him standing over you, his eye emitting an eerie red hue. Though, you still don’t know if it was because he was charging, or if he was actually messing with you.

Treat

With all that being said… if you were to scold him for all he’s done, he’s genuinely remorseful. Boothill sulks a little, but his apology is genuine. He does all the chores he can before he sets off, even takes you out to a nice dinner before Halloween, maybe a couple of drinks (but those are mainly for him). The unfortunate thing is it happens every year, but the pay off (the pampering) is just wonderful.

On Halloween night, he’s absolutely jubilant. He can’t sit still for a minute. He’s practically waiting at the door like a dog waiting for its owner to come home. He’s practically begging you for him to be the one to pass out candy to the kids. He just adores them dressed up in their little costumes, it’s like he’s a whole new man when he closes the door. All mushy over the little pirate who took one too many pieces of candy, or the princess who did a little bow before she left.

If you two have kids, he’s dressing up with them, no questions asked. Even if he ends up as a tree or a trash bag, he could care less. He loves it. He makes you take a couple photos with your phone, then like a thousand more on an old polaroid camera, so he can at least keep one with him. He also makes sure to hit all the houses. Twice. Doesn’t matter if the people at the door recognize them, Boothill’s got a way of persuasion none can beat. If he knows there’s any house giving out full-sized candy bars, he’s probably raided the bowl. He’ll leave some extra for other kids of course (while he adores his own, he’s not cruel), but his kiddos deserve the best, so they’re getting the best.

Even though exhaustion is non-existent to him now, by the end of the night, he’s all tuckered out. Crashed on the couch with your kids, a few stray wrappers he forgot to pick up before ushering the kids off to bed. Trick or treating is hard work, you know! Don’t be mad when he’s tired, he worked his behind off!

© freyito, 2024 | masterlist | queue | kofi | discord server | star header by roseschoices DO NOT REPOST AS YOUR OWN, REPOST ON ANY OTHER PLATFORM, OR USE FOR AI/AI CHATBOTS.

[grims-local-pkmn-irl-hub]

How to Write Engaging Anons

I’ve spoken to a lot of people behind close doors and we have all come to a realization: PKMN IRL as a community isn’t the greatest at sending engaging anons,,,

A lot of anons tend to get off track from what the blog runner is trying to do or will send completely unrelated anons during a plot moment on someones blog which can be incredibly frustrating for the blog runner.

So, I’ve decided to compile a little “guide” to help.

Look over the recent posts of a blog to see if they’re doing anything that could be considered plot relevant before sending an anon. Are they vague posting about something? Did they cut off a tangent too short? Did they mention they have stories to share if anyone wants them? Did they say something off or slightly concerning? ASK ABOUT IT! Ask them to elaborate! Ask for more detail!

Try and keep asks on task if a plot hook/point is currently happening. It is incredibly discouraging for a blog runner to see the notif for an anon only to open it and it have nothing to do with what they are currently trying to reveal/be engaged with. Do not latch onto a bit like your life depends on it because you are most likely just tiring out the blog runner who just wants to share interesting character/story info. Bits have a time and a place.

Don’t have a character that would realistically send that anon? Then don’t send it as that character, send it as yourself. The blog runner and character will not know the difference. This also has an added benefit of baiting a character into talking about something you know your character can then interact with. Anons are great for interaction in more ways than just asks.

Worried someone already sent the ask you’re about to send? SEND IT ANYWAYS! A blog runner would much prefer two of asks of generally the same question than zero asks! And it shows that people care enough to ask that question twice! It gives the blog runner something to think about when writing!

Don’t have any idea of what anon to send without an ask game? SEND THE SUPER “BASIC” ONES! I promise you that very basic questions like “how do feel about this”, “why do you say that”, “you mentioned [this], can you elaborate more” ARE LOVED BY BLOG RUNNERS!!! So much can be understood about a character’s mental state or attitude depending on how they choose to answer these questions. They’re “basic” and “overused” because they are really good questions to ask!

Try and engage critically with a character! Remember! This is an RP community! We are playing these characters as if they are real so you need to treat them like people! For example: Telling a very clearly mentally ill character that their thought process isn’t healthy and that they should just go to therapy isn’t the most helpful anon and it especially isn’t when that seems to be all the blog runner gets when they’re character gets like that. A good way to try and engage critically is to ask similar questions as above such as “why do you think that” along with some others like “can you walk me through your thought process”, “do you know when you started acting/thinking like this”, etc.

IC Hate Anons. These anons are fun and good! They can be very useful for story telling and showing off certain aspects of a character! They can also be super draining especially when that seems to be all that a character gets when trying to do plot hooks/points. It can make a blog runner’s motivation wane and deplete when all it ever seems like is that anons want to use their character as a punching bag. A good way to negate this is if you send an IC hate anon is to quickly follow it up with an anon that’s trying to engage critically and is asking questions and treating the character as a person. This allows for a blog runner to have choices on whether they want their character to be a punching bag right now and get beat down or would rather follow the anons line of questioning.

Ask games. I know I’m beating a dead horse here but SEND AN ASK TO THE PERSON YOU ARE REBLOGGING FROM. The blog runner will see you reblogging it from them and be waiting for an ask to come in and then it never does. Send an ask. They are literally pre-written most of the time. Okay that’s all I have to say here. 👍

Make sure the anon has some sort of substance. Even when sending anons outside of plot periods make sure the anon has something the character and blog runner can actually feasibly answer. One word anons that are just “yeah” or “okay” are incredibly difficult to respond to. So is randomly being sent quotes or things that just generally have nothing to do with the blog or pokemon in general. People have an easier time when being sent asks about their character’s pokemon, family, friends, most recent stupid post, etc. I have about 40 anons rotting in my inbox for @/espers-n-espurrs because they have nothing to respond to. And this isn’t to say silly/dumb anons shouldn’t be a thing. They should be but they should also be something someone could reasonably reply with besides just replying with “why the fuck did you send me this”.

In all, remember you are not only engaging with a character and their story but you are also engaging with a blog runner. You may never know their name or have a one on one conversation with them but the asks you send their characters do have an effect on the blog runner.

Show that you are engaging with their character, show that you care about the story they are trying to tell.

Reblogs are important for interaction but in my mind asks are the backbone of this community. A good ask and a good response allows for a good chance for others to be able to interact with the response IC.

But yeah, remember, the blog runner is still there behind that screen, you are still interacting with them when you interact with their character. Give them something to work with when you send an ask.

[thoughtssvt]

last call

nanami kento x reader

kento's just about lost the battle. you're all he can think about during his last moments

warnings : character death, minor gore (blood, limb loss), no happy ending, gn!reader (use of they/them pronouns), no use of y/n

Kento’s head felt heavy on his shoulders. His neck craning up to watch the midnight bubble consume everything within a five foot radius, including him. A few steps ahead, in the center of the curse’s domain, stood a telephone booth. Dusty with the environment, untouched for who knows how long. His eyelids drooped to cover tired, bloodshot eyes. A dulled clang rang through the air, unhelping to the shrill tones piercing his ears as his cleaver thudded against the dirt road.

He cringed at the feeling of his fingers disturbing his meticulously styled hair, congealing blood mixing with his hair wax. A sigh pulled his shoulders toward the floor. What were you doing now? He wondered. Using the reserves of his strength to flick his wrist to reveal his watch face came the image of you peeling your bag and outerwear off, throwing your keys into the dish that inhabited the small stand right by the front door.

Kento reached into his pocket to find his phone shattered. Not like he’d be able to reach anyone from inside the domain and though all alarms in his head told him not to, he wanted to know if you’d called. Texted to ask him when he’d be home.

He dragged his feet, kicking up dirt as he lugged his heavy legs toward the phonebooth. He wasn’t deluded enough to believe anything except the fact that he was walking right into the curse’s guaranteed hit. Though he’d faced death countless times, he himself couldn’t understand the longing he felt to pick up the phone. It was heavy in his hand. Grimey and definitely not something he’d choose to press up against his face.

But he always chose you.

“Kento?” Your voice came through as soon as he held the speaker against his ear. His shoulders sagged with relief, the knowledge of illusion not too far from him. He knew that, but if it was just for this moment he would pretend that nothing was wrong. “I was thinking of making your grandmother’s soup, are you almost home?”

He pressed his forehead against the edge of the small metal box that housed the phone and its mechanism, letting it dig into his skin as he rolled his head side to side following the curvature of his skull.

“I’d kill for a bowl of my grandmother’s soup.” Especially the way you made it. Maybe not how you made it. You’d listened intently to the instructions, always making an exact replica. It was more so that you were the one making it. “But I’m afraid I won’t be making it in time for dinner,” he gasped out as he began to accept his fate, the soft pitter-patter of blood oozing from his severed arm knocking above the ringing in his ears.

“You should tell the higher ups that no amount of money could keep you from your spouse.” He let out a pained sigh, knitting his ashen brows together. Your laugh like church bells on Christmas day.

“You’re right. I should’ve stopped taking all this damn OT a long time ago.” He sucked in a breath as he slumped against the wall, the glass crying at the sudden weight. Kento audibly swallowed, his mouth going dry as he began to reminisce. A side effect of dying, he supposes. “Do you remember all those years ago when we made our relationship official?” He clipped the phone between his shoulder and the side of his head, his now free hand coming up to punch at the bridge of his nose. He continued on letting the curse mimic your ambrosia laugh. “I tried to cut things off because I didn’t know how to handle a relationship with my line of work and you just always knew what to say.” He cleared his throat, his tears manifesting like molasses in his esophagus. “Just knocked some sense into me like you believed in us all along. It was like a punch to the gut.” He was beginning to babble, consciousness wavering.

He slowly slid down the glass wall, grunting on the way down, clutching his side. his broken ribs protested the movement.

“You deserve better.” He got out between stuttered breaths, staring up at the cobwebbed ceiling of the booth.

Your name fell from his lips. Slowly like he was savoring it. Tasting its sweetness one last time. Letting it linger on his tongue as long as he could.

“What would you do if you knew you were going to lose?”

The only thing the curse couldn’t copy was how much you loved him and that was apparent in the half-hearted exclamation it spouted dressed in your voice. The illusion was coming to an end, each piece crumbling, taken by the wind. He wanted more time, more strength. He wanted to tell you.

“I’m trapped in this curse’s domain. I’m almost certain this phone call is its last hit, Darling,” he said oh so desperately. “What do I do?”

Maybe the curse didn’t choose this life. Maybe it’s equally pained to be the recipient of countless last calls. Maybe it didn’t mean to hurt others. Kento wasn’t sure how sentient it was, but he appreciated the way it tried.

“I couldn’t tell you.” It responded to him, cold and emotionless. No longer trying to mimic you despite using your cadence.

“I know.” Kento nodded, heaving himself back onto his feet, distantly wishing he could dust himself off. With it’s lingering aftertaste he called your name once more. “I love you, darling.”

He screwed his eyes shut, picturing you in the back of his mind. Radiant as the day he met you.

“Kento… I love you, too.“

His lips wobbled into a frown as he tried his best to soak it in. End it in euphoria instead of regret. He took a moment to steady his breath. If he let himself his mind would fill with should haves. They'd urge his tears to slip down his cheeks. If he started he knew he wouldn't be able to stop. It was fine this way. He could accept that it wasn't in the cards for him to win. He couldn't fight anymore. He knocked the sound receiver against his forehead, gathering the courage to hang up.

“I’m not really them, you know.” The curse said quietly, almost child-like, right before Kento put the phone back on the receiver. It spoke as itself. Meek and curious. Exactly like Kento expected to be the manifestation of last calls. The negative emotions that came with saying goodbye. Saying one thing while thinking dozens of others that would never reach.

“I know,” He whispered. He knew his words would never reach you, but it was enough that he got to say it. Doubt never existed between the two of you. He knew you’d be alright and that you wouldn’t hold anything against him. Your love made him sure and that was enough for him.

“But if you are the one who’s to take my life I thank you for letting me hear their voice one last time.”

The phone hit the receiver with a trill. Kento took a second to smooth down whatever was left of his suit before turning around. He closed the door gently behind him, stepping out with closed eyes, keeping you on the forefront of his mind until the very end.

telephone dividers by @saradika-graphics

A/N : another soul crushing 2am post. just got back into writing (personal projects) and this is what I produce? :/

nanami x reader masterlist

[genericpuff]

Are there any characters from LO that you actually like/don’t mind

I have a lot more appreciation for Minthe now with all the hindsight that Hades and Persephone are often way worse than she is. She still had a lot of issues on her own end that she didn't deal with well, and while I would have liked to see her actually develop properly beyond her struggles both internal and with Hades, I think the best thing we could have asked for was Minthe being written out of the story the way she was. At least then Rachel couldn't continue to use her as a punching bag (she just tagged in Leuce for that, sigh)

Helios is great, zero issue with him. This scene is a lot funnier and more relatable to read in hindsight:

like ofc Helios is gonna rat on her, he's the fucking sun who's been around for thousands of years, why would he put any more of his limited freedom on the line for macaroni art LMAO (and yes, Rachel herself confirmed that Persephone made macaroni art cards for Helios, it's like... yeah okay it's cute but Persephone and Demeter still hid a crime from Zeus, the sentimental value of the birthday cards have no bearing on that LOL)

Thanatos is also in the camp of "characters I appreciate more in hindsight and wish got better character development". Adding in the 'twist' that he was Hades' adoptive son after we just spent nearly two seasons watching Hades treat him like just a lowly employee who didn't deserve his respect was certainly... a choice. And I don't think I should have to explain why it was a very very BAD one LOL

Hephaestus is also great, I know he's an extremely minor character whose only real role was to delete the blackmail photos from Apollo's phone but, like. look at him???

amazing. precious. sweet boy. and it has absolutely nothing to do with my absent older brother issues why would you say that- (｡•́︿•̀｡) that said, there are still flaws in his design (his prosthetics especially because he's constantly wearing running blades for every occasion which I feel like Rachel only chose because they "looked cool" and were "easier to draw" but like. his poor hips and back, that's gotta be uncomfortable 😭) but even just his face on its own is ironically one of the most unique character designs across the entire cast, not for any sort of outstanding or creative reasons, you just can't possibly mistake or color swap him with anyone else LMAO and though I can't feasibly give credit to Rachel for writing a neurodivergent character - because I have no clue if that was her intention here, afaik she's never really talked about it - I can wholly relate to him being the introverted computer guy who just wants to be left alone with his work and his airpods, like that's literally just me LOL

And of course nothing Rachel could ever do would make me hate Demeter, I think it's so ironic and tone deaf that Rachel claimed she "didn't get" why Demeter was so hated by the fans and didn't "agree" with the comparisons to Mother Gothel, but like... Rachel literally wrote her that way. And while she did "resolve" it, it wasn't with any actual empathy towards Demeter's own side of things, it was just bandaids on top of bandaids and then going "yep! She's all better now! That's character development!" Out of all the characters who deserved better, she was the one who deserved the most 😔💓