#i used to have full on delusions that every single thing around me was fake. 100% simulation style. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

obae-me · 3 years

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A Taste of Your Own Medicine

Author’s Note: I finally did it! One of my bigger projects finished! And this is the most ambitious thing I’ve posted in a while! It’ll be my biggest post for sure! I truly, truly hope you guys enjoy this. I hope this sickfic can make you feel a bit better during these times. (*slaps fic* This bad boy can fit so many cuddles in it). Thank you all for your encouragement and support, it’s honestly what helped me get this finished! Also, I swear I’ve been over this thing more than thirty times to try and catch mistakes, but it’s a lot so if I missed mistakes I apologize.

Word Count: 18,300

Warnings: Blood, Medication Use, Vomiting, I’m not a doctor in any way shape or form, so please don’t take any of this as a personal guide.

As Always, Read Safely, And Please Enjoy!

Lucifer, then Satan and Mammon. After that came Beel and Belphie, followed up by Levi. Lastly Asmo. All of them, every single one, had fallen ill. Try as they may, none of them had been safe, and you’d been the main one working to nurse them back to health despite you knowing nothing about caring for demons. It had been...what was the right word? Grueling? No. Enjoyable? Well you couldn’t quite say that either. It had its ups and downs. Working for about a month straight on little sleep wasn’t exactly a dream job, but the affection and actions you’d seen were priceless. The pictures on your phone and the memories in your head would keep your heart warm for the rest of your life, but you could go no further. You were done. Done with being a nurse. Done with restless nights. Done with this illness.

The House of Lamentation had finally begun to feel normal again, normal except for your persistent fatigue accompanied by strange shifts in your body temperature. It started off small at first, you had hardly noticed. Unfortunately, it had grown rather rapidly, impeding your day-to-day life. The fuzzy thoughts in the back of your mind knew that something was unnatural. Your body shouldn’t feel like this. Yet, afraid of facing the truth, or hoping you were just overreacting, you insisted that just sleeping it off would bring you back to normal.

Only... you should’ve known. You should’ve seen the signs. The sneezing, the breathlessness you felt with the simplest of things, the discomfort settling in your bones. What were you going to do? Well, you figured the best thing to do was move onward, acting like nothing was amiss. Fake it till you make it. Whatever it was would go away on its own, it had to.

But it wouldn’t, and as much as they would refuse to admit it, each demonic member of the household had grown fond of being fussed over by you. Tugging you in all directions, demanding constant attention, wearing your energy down to dust. Although, if you were being entirely honest, they tended to do that regardless. However, after being treated so specially, their neediness grew tenfold. Thus, without giving yourself a break, every morning you ended up feeling worse than the day before, and it was only going downhill from there. Perhaps you should’ve told them, nipping it in the bud before it had a change to blossom into something terrible. In retrospect, that should’ve been the obvious path to take. Yet, driven by some desire you couldn’t place, you pushed yourself so far past the breaking point that your own body had to stop you.

Waking up to your alarm in the early hours of this particular morning was more difficult than you’d like to admit. Removing the blankets might as well have been pushing stones off your body. Your limbs felt stiff, gravity’s pull was stronger than it should’ve been, and moving forward was like pushing through waves of molasses. However, you went forward, still fooled under some grand delusion that you’d feel better once you freshened up. Gathering up a change of clothes and a towel for your morning shower, you stumbled out of your room. Getting to the bathroom had been a blur, the only thing you could recall was consistently leaning your weight against the wall to keep your legs steady. You’d met no one in your path, assuming they must’ve all already been in the dining hall, the faint smell of breakfast foods flooding the hallways. It made your stomach churn.

Before anyone could see you in this downright pathetic state, you entered the bathroom, shutting the door behind you and locking it. You took a moment to catch your breath and press your forehead against the cold wood of the door. It felt amazing against your skin. But you couldn’t linger, you had to get ready for RAD. As you turned, you came up to the sink, settling your items on the side of the bowl. It was then you saw your face in the mirror for the first time that morning. Biting your lip, you splashed some water on your face, hoping it would wash away some of the hints of sickness-- the not-sickness...you weren’t sick. Right? You couldn’t have caught the demon illness, right? Was it possible? Your head was throbbing, the heart in your chest pounding in panic. What were you going to do? You couldn’t miss classes, you couldn’t let anyone know, you couldn’t be a burden. Brush your teeth, you thought. Get ready, play it off. It’s not that bad. It’s not that bad. Stop overreacting.

Showering felt nice, it was the only thing so far that let you feel some peace. The steamy hot water released some of the tension in your temples and lungs. Although, the intense heat made you lightheaded, and a single little misstep in the shower had you almost plummet to the floor. Shaking, gasping for air, desperately attempting to cling to the slick stone wall, you slowly sat on the wet tiles, leaning your body back so the stream of water landed directly on your chest. The comfort almost coaxed you back into sleep, but before you could fall into slumber, you jolted. How long had you been in there? Five minutes? Half an hour? You could forget about washing your head today. Crawling out of the shower, the frigid air burnt the inside of your nose, shuddering you with a few sneezes. Not good. You rushed to dry yourself off and pull your uniform on. Before you headed down to the dining hall, you blew your nose, shook your head, and prepared yourself to sound as normal as possible. Somehow you managed not to stumble down the stairs, something you were thankful for. Maybe it wasn’t as severe as you thought it was.

Arguing could be heard past the hall doors. That wasn’t too rare, it’d become tradition almost, to the point where being met with an unclamorous silence was somewhat threatening. What was it this time? Mammon stealing something? Beel eating something? Belphie not doing something?

It was hard to comprehend the words, but you could make out the important pieces. “I bought that for ya, so it… … … that I took it back!” Mammon growled.

“Once you… … … it was mine!” Asmo shrieked. “It wasn’t yours to sell … … … buy it in the first place!”

Ah, so it was another Mammon related issue, you didn’t need to be a hardcore gambler to win that bet. Raised voices didn’t do any good for your head, the pressure in your eardrums throbbing. You stayed silent as you slid inside, or at least you tried to stay silent. Instead, you accidently made your presence prominent as you shut the doors too harshly behind you. Heads turned all at once, your knees threatening to turn to jelly under the gaze.

“Is something the matter, MC?” Lucifer asked, the first one able to sense something wrong. He always knew. You were never able to hide anything from him. However, the fact that you’d been able to play things off in his presence up till now settled a sort of twisted pride inside you. You blamed Pride himself for his bad influence. Lowering his cup from his lips, he raised an eyebrow.

You mustered up a usual grin. “Just...tired,” you lied. Had your throat always been this sore? And was it the table full of warm food, or was it terribly hot in here? Not the healing sort of temperature either, but rather the sticky suffocating heat that formed waves in your vision. Or maybe the room was swirling on its own? Tugging at the collar of your shirt, you took a single step forward, attempting to walk again. You lowered your head, turning away from the eldest, remaining as inconspicuous as possible for fear he’d take one good look at you and expose your troubles. Lucifer was not convinced, shifting his gaze between his morning cup of coffee and your strange stature. For the time being, he dropped his questions, lying in wait for you to exude any signs that you were lying.

Doing your best not to trip up, you eventually sat down at the dining table, a spot left open for you between Belphie--who was sitting up asleep--and Asmo. The demon of lust luckily didn’t seem to notice your weaker state, continuing on his tirade against his older brother. “Mammon, I swear to whatever forces may be listening that if you don’t get it back I will ruin you, you hear me?!”

“Yeah yeah, you can try!” Mammon scoffed.

Asmo spoke again, his words blocked out by the sudden ringing in your ears, the shrill noise spurring on pain behind your eyes. As you bit the inside of your cheek, you squeezed your eyes closed till the painful sound faded away. Only, opening them back up now seemed to make everything worse. The light was harsh, far too harsh, blinding rays striking off every reflective surface. Your vision started to swim, blurring the features of those around you. Squinting, you groaned a bit to yourself before lifting a utensil from the table, attempting to eat some of the breakfast in front of you before anyone became suspicious. Every bite sank heavily to the bottom of your stomach.

“Will the two of you be quiet, for sin’s sake?!” Satan boomed, his wrath peeking through his composure as his brothers started to take their spat too far, interrupting what should’ve been a quiet morning. Although, when had that ever happened? Magic spilling from their fingertips, demon forms exposed, Mammon and Asmo were each ready to brawl it out at any moment. The ruckus finally managed to stir Belphie who was visibly irritated.

The miniscule amount of food you had eaten started to already stir sickeningly within you. The sweltering heat you had felt before stripped away in a moment, a frightening chill creeping over your body. Before you could think, you got to your feet, breathless, heart pounding as an overwhelming presence of something agonizing forced you to move. Getting up too quickly caused the whole world to rock, your head doing somersaults. Lucifer obviously was now convinced everything was far from fine as you swayed on your own two feet, the legs of his chair screeching against the hardwood floor as he stood. Everyone in the room quickly went quiet, all eyes on you as you fumbled. The weight of their attention seemed to push you further over the edge. “It’s...I’m…” You needed to move, to be anywhere but here, so you staggered a few steps away from the group.

You heard the thud before you felt it, not quite comprehending what it meant to feel the floor fall out from beneath you as the world shifted sideways. The area became a chorus of shouts as seven demons called out your name. You didn’t fully blackout. Your consciousness was too stubborn to be snuffed out like that, but you couldn’t fully talk or move either.

A pair of arms wrapped around you, bringing you close to their body. Despite being right next to you, somehow everything still felt so far away, like you were experiencing everything secondhand. The smoothness of leather touched your cheek before the glove was supposedly discarded, cold skin touching your face. “They’re burning up,” Lucifer announced, the undertones of his voice just barely wavering, or perhaps your sense of sound was just as skewed as your sight had been. He flipped his hand over, his knuckles brushing against your forehead. You tried opening your eyes to look at him, but it was next to impossible.

“MC?! Hey, what’s with you?!” Mammon shouted, two hands squeezing your shoulders. The panic in his words was apparent. “What’s wrong with them?!”

“I think they’re sick,” Belphie chimed.

Satan sounded distant, but his voice still drifted to your ears. “Should I alert Simeon and Solomon?”

Without warning, you sensed yourself being lifted off the floor, the sudden movement jerking the last strands of your consciousness back as you lurched into a black weightlessness. You swam through the fog, trying to pick back up the voices in the room.

“...the human world to get a few things,” someone spoke. As you shifted your body, the people went silent, but not for long.

“They’re awake!”

“Thank heavens…”

“Oi, everyone get off ‘em!”

Somehow, you found the energy to open your eyes. There were no arms holding you and the dining room was far gone. You were now in bed, in your room, surrounded by demons, angels, and the only other human in the Devildom. The confusion of the blank spot in your memory shot panic through your nerves, not to mention it was uncomfortable to be stared down like this. “What…?” You gasped, trying to sit up in bed. A washcloth slid off your forehead and down your face. Someone’s gentle hands guided you back into a lying position, taking the rag and putting it back in its place.

Lucifer had a chair pulled up to your bedside, lines popping up between his eyebrows in worry. He finished pressing you back up against your pillow, pulling the blankets back over your chest. “Don’t move too much,” he ordered, his words harsh but his eyes soft. “You collapsed in the dining hall.”

Well, that part you could recall. They must’ve brought you here. Despite it only feeling like a second, you must’ve been out long enough for the other exchange students to arrive. “Is-” You interrupted yourself with some coughs, quickly turning your head into your pillow. Even just speaking left your lungs weak, but you had a question. “Is it…?

“It’s not what the brothers had if that’s what you’re asking,” Solomon nodded. “You as a human couldn’t catch that particular illness. Although if you had, you probably wouldn’t survive. So lucky you, right?” Levi nearly dropped to his knees at that prospect, eyes wide with fear, as if he wasn’t convinced that you were lucky at all. You had to admit, you felt far from it. Many of the other siblings shot the sorcerer a dirty glare, everyone’s nerves strangely on edge. Solomon closed his eyes and laughed a bit. “Aha, but like I said, it’s a very mortal disease. Just a cold or the case of the flu from what I can tell.”

“Just?” Mammon growled, barking out his opinions like an angry guard dog. “They’re lying here looking like they're two seconds away from pushin’ up daisies and you make guesses? You’ve been acting so calm and treating this like it ain’t that serious! And to be honest, it’s kinda tickin’ me off!” He took a few serious steps towards Solomon, shoulders squared, ready to fight. Luke ducked behind Simeon’s body for protection, but there was no need. Before he took things too far, Mammon growled and resumed his brisk pace around your room.

“I hate to agree with him,” Asmo started, “But Mammon’s right.” The fourth-born frowned, some of his outward sparkle dulled with concern. Every hint of his and Mammon’s dispute had faded away. “This isn’t a joke! You have to do something, Solomon! Save them!” Asmo flung himself over the sorcerer begging and pleading, reacting as if you were on your deathbed. Mammon pushed a haughty breath of air between his teeth, turning on his heels to sit beside you on the bed. His nervous energy could hardly be contained, erratically adjusting the blanket over your body as one of his legs bounced up and down rapidly.

Solomon shook his head, brushing Asmo off of him. “I was simply trying to lighten the mood.” You caught a flicker of amusement in his eyes as he watched these powerful demons on the brink of falling to pieces. “If treated properly, it shouldn't be fatal. Plenty of monitoring and rest and the body should heal on its own. Of course if it worsens or persists, then a doctor might be required, but we can cross that bridge when we get to it. Although, like I was saying, it would be best if I went to the human world to at least get some proper medicine. We wouldn’t want our MC here to suffer the full brunt of the symptoms, and I doubt the remedies here would have a desired effect.”

With that, Lucifer sighed, lifting his chin to address the sorcerer. “I shall accompany you to the human world. We’ll get what we need and come right back, understood?”

Either the demon of pride’s stern glare wasn’t at its peak today or Solomon was generally unaffected. The sorcerer looked past him and right at you with a grin on his face. “He gets rather overbearing when it comes to you doesn’t he?”

“We’re leaving,” Lucifer huffed, his arms wide to shepherd everyone out of your room. Several of his siblings cried out in protest. “Everyone out! The last thing MC needs is the bunch of you bothering them.” The only one he didn’t tug along was Simeon, the angel turning down the light and approaching you as soon as everyone had gone.

A short laugh rumbled in his throat. “They sure do care about you a lot,” he smiled. He took Mammon’s previous spot on the bed by you, settled by your hip. He discovered the bump in the blanket that served as your arm under the covers. Slowly, he ran his hand up and down over it. “What a terrible thing for you to be this sick.” It wasn’t often the angel frowned, but in this case he appeared deeply troubled, as if he was taking your pain as his own. “I can help you fall asleep if you’d like me to. Solomon warned me against using too much magic against your weakened immune system, but I should be able to let you sleep peacefully.” He waited for a response, not moving forward with anything till you nodded your head slowly. Golden light rushed to the ends of his fingers, the soft skin of his fingertips brushing against your eyelids to close them. A shudder ran down your spine, your own body tingling, and you wondered if it was his magic or simply just the tender gesture. “Rest well, MC,” Simeon whispered. “Feel better.” And then just like he suggested, your mind quickly got swept along into a blissful sleep.

Angelic magic or not, it didn’t seem to hold back the fever for long. Even in your dreams, all you could feel was frigid fire. Your nerves were fried, unable to tell if you were freezing to death or boiling. And the dreams...the images flashing in your mind of threats you couldn’t understand, dangers that filled you with panic. Someone was uttering words to you that you couldn't understand. All you could do was try to run, try to escape. Everything about you was screaming.

Through the mist of sickness, you could finally make out the voice. “...gotta...can’t...help…” After a few moments of the whimpering and the distress, you were alarmed to figure out it was the sound of your own voice. But you couldn’t even feel yourself saying the words.

“I’m here,” another person muttered past the darkness. “It’s alright…” The stranger shushed, trying to sound sweet to cover up the panic in their tone. “The one time I need that pompous jerk around and he’s gone. Figures.” You could hear a few pages being turned, a frustrated click of a tongue followed after. “Why didn’t I look this up before? Why wasn’t I prepared?” The anger from the other being in the room seemed to affect you. You thrashed a little, kicking your feet as if it would help push off the suffocating agony. Two hands clamped down on your shoulders, pinning you to the bed. “Calm down...Please calm down...I need to calm down.” Once you went back to being mostly still, more pages were turned. “Have the afflicted wear light clothing. I can do that.” A weight was shed off of you as the blanket pulled back. Air struck your sweat covered skin, sending chills down your body. You began to tremble. The front of your RAD uniform was tugged at, someone working at the buttons to shed the outer layer off your body.

“...won’t...s...sor...is…hah…” Your speech was broken, and even if you knew what you wanted to say, your mouth wouldn’t let you. Someone took your hands, lifting your arm to let gravity help assist in removing the sleeve. You could feel it slip before fully crashing against the bed like a dead weight, free of the thick uniform fabric. The same was done with the other arm. Then a hand supported the back of your neck, lifting your upper body just enough until the extra layer was yanked out from under you. Removing the jacket had been like opening an oven. Heat from your body suddenly escaped into the room, no longer trapped behind unnecessary insulation. Even in your rather deranged state, you could feel your shirt sticking to your skin. Now you seemed to be shuddering harder.

“Hydration...medication...Curses, Lucifer, get back here...Nothing...there’s nothing here!” The individual grunted in a growl of vexation, a frantic flutter of paper soaring further away before something heavy struck the ground far from you. You managed to stop moaning, switching to feverish panting. Your company tutted at you again, stroking the top of your head tenderly. “Can you even hear me at all? Breathe, MC, breathe.” It’s embarrassing to admit it took you much longer than you would’ve liked to remember how to control your breathing. Once you took some deeper inhales, you heard your caretaker sigh in relief. “Good…Well, not good, but better.”

Reality had sunken in almost completely now, just covered with a thin layer of dreamy haze. You cracked your eyes open, a mess of blonde hair and worried green eyes looking down at you. “S-Sa...tan,” you murmured.

His hand stroked your head a few more times before grabbing the wet rag again and dotting it across your face. The energy you needed to retain consciousness was quickly fading. Satan’s hands grasped your face. “Hold on! Look at me again, come on.” With every ounce of power you had left, you lifted your eyelids as much as you could. Still half-lidded, you only caught glimpses of his green sweater as he slid one hand under your back, lifting you up gently. Your head bobbed down, chin against your chest as Satan settled your back against your headboard. Gentle fingers lifted your head, some plastic brought to your lips. “You have to stay hydrated, drink just a little.” You wrapped your lips around the straw, sucking water into your body until you felt like you were going to be sick again. Satan moved to put the cup back down, and in that time he made the mistake of letting you go. Gravity tugged your body down, nearly slipping out of bed, threatening to fall to the floor. Thankfully, the demon of wrath was there to catch you. Head resting against his shoulder, you breathily let out a ‘thank you’ that was probably closer to a slurred series of sounds rather than a statement.

His arms wrapped tightly around you. “Don...lea…ve...”

Then everything went black again.

When consciousness flooded back to your mind, you had no idea how long it had been. Turning to your other side, you rubbed your head against the pillow. Everything was still much too warm. You slipped an arm under your heavy headrest, hoping to get to the cooler side. Your pillow twitched. Your pillow...was moving? Up. Down. Slow. Rising with steady breaths. You woke up, shifting enough in your spot to alert the person in your bed. Placing a book to the side, Satan rubbed one of your shoulders. Taking a moment to realize what position you were in, you felt your stomach flop once you came to the conclusion that you were lying against Satan’s legs, clinging to his clothes, hand against his lower back, head resting against his stomach. “You alright?” Satan wondered, pressing a hand to your forehead. You didn’t need to speak for him to know the answer. Not really. “I’ll admit, you had me worried for a while there.” He sat up fully, your head sliding back to your pillow--your actual pillow. You quickly retracted your death grip on him, hugging your arms close to your body. If there could be any more heat in your cheeks, there would be.

Shame creeped into your bones. “S...sorry.”

His expression brightened a small amount, pleased with the fact that you could speak mostly clearly now, even if your voice did sound ragged. He pulled the blanket back over your shoulders and up near your chin. “Don’t worry about that, just worry about feeling better.” He twisted his body, grabbing something off your nightstand again. “Here, have some more water. Everything I’ve read says that you need to stay hydrated at all times.” You dug your elbow into the mattress, lifting your head enough to not choke as you drank. As Satan lowered the glass, you noticed it was almost completely empty. You didn’t remember drinking that much. Exactly how delusional had you been earlier? How much had you forgotten? You downed the rest of the drink in small sips, lying back down when you were done.

“Did…” You squeaked. “Did I do anything…”

“Weird?” Satan finished your sentence for you. “So you don’t remember all of it, I take it?” You shook your head. “You started moaning, hyperventilating. Once you calmed down a bit you collapsed on me and refused to let me go. I figured since I was going to monitor you anyway I would…” A small blush formed on his cheeks. “Hold you till Lucifer got home.”

You looked away from his face, still a bit self conscious. You decided to change the subject. “He’s still gone?”

Satan’s lips almost curled into a little snarl. “Yes. I have no idea why he’s decided to take his sweet time to-” He cut himself off short, clearing his throat and removing any traces of rage. “Don’t worry about him, I’m sure he’ll be home soon with the medicine.” You felt the top of your head being pet again, tempting you to close your eyes. “Until then, is there anything I can get for you?” You shook your head once more, allowing yourself to indulge in your impulses, moving closer to his body. Despite seeming mostly unaffected by the intimacy earlier, he took in a short sharp breath, lifting his head to the side to hide part of his face. His hand was near your face, tauntingly close, reminding you of how chill his skin was and how good it felt to have him stroke your head. You closed your eyes, bringing your head forward enough to bump against his wrist. A stifled gasp rang through the air before he took a deep breath. “It’s unfortunate that you had to be this sick to…” His sentence trailed off, his hand that you’d ran into pressed against your burning cheeks before brushing against your hair, running down the length of locks before starting again. “Conserve your energy,” he whispered. “Go back to bed.”

“... … how are they?”

“...still feverish… …sleeping for a long time…”

“I’ll take over… … get some rest.”

Soft voices somehow roused you from your deep sleep, the final click of your door leaving you awake. You flitted your eyes open, immediately upset with how dry and crusty they felt. It didn’t help you feel any better when you noticed Lucifer by your bed, busy observing a small cardboard container. He was quick to notice you move, turning his head towards you as you wiped the grime from your eyes with the back of your finger. How embarrassing. Having to be sick, weak, vulnerable, positively distasteful, and in front of the people you thought highly of no less. Memories of Satan flooded back into your mind. Would they all think less of you after this? For how low you’d fallen? For how weak you were? You couldn’t let that happen. What had happened with Satan couldn’t be helped, but from here on out you would do your best to be independent. You adjusted to sit up.

“What did I say about moving too much?” He scolded, his hand outstretched to settle you back down. You swept his gesture away, sitting up fully and focusing on the item in his hand. A regular box of human world medicine. You reached out for it, and despite being annoyed you’d swatted him away, he handed it to you. The tones of his voice casually shifted from his typical strict nature to low and sweet. “Is...this the one you need?” You glanced it over. Gel pills, daytime and nighttime ones, for cold and flu symptoms. You nodded. He seemed relieved. “It doesn’t happen often, but I was glad for Solomon’s help in picking the proper medicines,” he admitted. “Who knew humans needed so many medications? And you even have entire shops dedicated to them.” He shook his head as a deep frown formed on his face as if he just realized how fragile and complicated human bodies could be. You sighed, agreeing with him in your mind. You were thankful he managed to bring this back though, for as much as you hated proving he was right, you desperately wanted the medicine to ease your aching symptoms. You tried prying the flap open, annoyed when it refused to tear apart. From out of the corner of your eye, you swore you spotted the smallest smirk cross over Lucifer’s face. “Would you like some help?” You grumbled, turning your torso away from him as you attempted again to open the simple package. In slight sadistic fashion, he simply observed you struggle for another few minutes before you tore the box open. Even just working on that had you nearly breathless, but you scrounged up a little triumphant grin. Pulling out one of the bubble sheets, you settled the box back in your lap which Lucifer quickly picked up, returning to read the details printed on the back. “No more than four doses a day,” he announced. “You can take two of those pills now and then wait for four hours before you can take any more.” He read all that out with the confidence of a doctor who knew exactly what he was prescribing. “I want you to check in with me before you decide to take more, understood?”

You desperately wanted to be snippy about it, but the energy for defense was long gone. Plus, you knew that he needed to have his hands on the reins at all times, and his stubbornness was especially bad when it was a situation he had no control over. “Okay,” you squeaked, pressing your thumb tightly against the foil backing until the pills were free. Dumping them out into your palm, you sighed to yourself once you spotted the empty glass of water from earlier. You’d have to go refill it.

As soon as you pushed the blankets back and swung your legs out of bed to stand up, Lucifer tightly gripped your shoulders. Normally, he would’ve reacted before the thought even crossed your mind, but your actions must’ve stunned him more than usual. “Where do you think you’re going?”

Wincing a little, you cleared your throat before you spoke. “I need water.” You tried to get back up, but your weakened strength was no match against Lucifer’s, and he was hardly trying.

“Then let me get some for you.” Your lips parted to utter out a rebuttal but he’d have none of it. He grasped your ankles, pulling your legs back into bed and folding the covers back over the lower half of your body. He pointed a gloved finger at you. “You’re not to move.” He plucked the empty glass off the tabletop, striding out of your door before you could even try to argue. A low groan rumbled in your chest, your lungs convulsing out a few more coughs. By the time you got your breathing managed again, the demon of pride was back in your room, handing you a fresh glass of water. A deeper frown tugged at the corners of his mouth as he watched ripples form in the liquid as your hand shook. Attempting to stabilize your hold only seemed to make it worse. He reached out, his intention to help you drink. Before he could, you popped both pills in your mouth and grasped at the cup with both hands as you brought the rim to your lips, watching his arm fall dejectedly back to his sides. Even the smooth gel coating went down rough, feeling more like two sharp stones scraping the inside of your esophagus. With your nose more stopped up than usual, by the time you were done drinking you were gasping for air, resulting in coughs again, hard enough to nearly make you gag. Lucifer took the cup from you before you could drop it, settling it on your nightstand. You were bowled over, tears streaming from your eyes. Rare panic crossed over Lucifer’s face, rubbing your back till the coughing fit came to an end. He took a deep inhale once it was over. Then he placed his touch over your forehead again, his thumb gently rubbing against your temple. When he retracted, you nearly let a little moan betray your feelings. You’re supposed to be independent, you reminded yourself. Lucifer shifted in his seat a bit, brandishing another item from his pockets. “We got one of these things as well,” he explained, taking the little item between his fingers and squinting to better study it. “He said it would be useful in monitoring your temperature, but...he failed to explain how it worked.”

If you were feeling even just a bit better, you would’ve laughed. Lucifer took the thermometer and pointed the end towards your forehead, his eyebrows raised as he waited for something to happen, only to scowl when nothing did. You let a similar cocky expression coat your face as he was the one to struggle with something so simple this time. If only he knew he had the right idea but the wrong type. He’d gotten one of the older fashioned versions. “This kind goes under my tongue,” you explained.

“Really?” He hummed. “How strange. Seems...messy.” He held the end close to your mouth, his face showing no signs of amusement this time as he waited. You hesitated, your heart beating faster at the emotions swelling in your chest. Independent, independent, independent, you repeated in your mind. Only, you’d caught him in a very impatient mood. With his other hand, he cupped it around your chin, carefully pulling your jaw down till he could slip the end of the thermometer under your tongue. You pressed your lips back together, too embarrassed to look him in the eyes. The small device beeped once it got its reading. Lucifer pulled it out and brought it back towards him. “101.4” He ran a frustrated hand through his hair before settling the thermometer down, attempting to guide your body back down in a lying position.

You stopped him, grabbing his wrist, eyes focusing on anything other than his face. “You don’t...have to do this.”

He entertained you, fully capable of pushing you down should he desire it, but he let you keep him in your grasp. His eyes narrowed. “What thing in particular are you talking about?”

Taking as deep of a breath your lungs would allow, you corrected yourself. “You don’t have to take care of me, I mean.” Words strained and cracking, they did little to convince the demon. “I’m well enough to take care of myself. Trust me, I’ve done it plenty before.”

Distrustful and discouraged, he stiffened, tugging his wrist away. “Be that as it may, while you are down here you are my responsibility. It is part of my duty to ensure you are safe and well looked after. Do you expect me to just walk away from my role?”

You’ll admit, it wasn’t very rational, but something other than the fever in you burned. “I’m not an assignment to be written off, Lucifer.”

“You know I didn’t mean that.” His crimson eyes looked down at you for a moment, the air silent between you save for the faint rattling in your chest. Eventually, he spoke back up, the previous forbidding expression gave way to a small smile. He closed his eyes and chuckled a little, taking you aback. “When did you ever get so prideful? Is it too bold to assume it’s my doing?” Then his hand moved forward, unbothered by your past attempt to push him away. He brushed sticky strands of hair away from your face. “If you truly don’t want me here, I will leave.” Your chest seemed to flutter at his words. It wasn’t that you...didn’t want him there. It was that you did. Almost too much. If there was anything you didn’t want, it was to be a hindrance. You knew how busy Lucifer was. His trip to the human world had probably already doubled his workload, and if you were right they’d all skipped classes for your sake, and- “MC.” He cupped your face, the look on his face told you that he knew everything you were thinking. “Not worrying about anything else, not overthinking it, do you want me here, yes or no? A simple question and two simple options.”

“I…” You knew the answer, and he did too, trying to hold back his amusement until he could hear the answer for himself. “If...you...want to.”

He shook his head in a defeated way. “You’re incorrigible, you know that don’t you?” With your acceptance, he took your shoulders, letting you lie down. He took the rag that had fallen off to the side, gently brushing it across your face. Under your eyes, over your cheekbones, under your chin. Then he leaned forward, his upper body resting against your bed, his head propped up under one of his hands. He gazed at you, tracing your jawline with his knuckle. The skin across his cheeks turned a light pink. “Of course I want to be with you. Not a moment goes by that I don’t desire to be at your side.”

The fast acting medicine and the fact that you’d been so distracted by his peaceful touch, you’d totally missed what he’d told you. “Hm?” You sleepily hummed, too focused on how close his body was to yours.

“Nothing,” he mused, making sure you were secure under the covers. “I’ll tell you once you’ve recovered. Sleep now.”

The muscles in your body slowly woke you up, screaming at you to change positions after having slept like a stone for Diavolo-knows how long. Eyes still closed, sleep still foggy on your mind, you turned over in bed. However, even with the smallest amount of alertness you possessed, you were very aware of how...generally upsetting your body felt. Soon it was all you could focus on, forcing you awake. Groaning, mourning the comfort of sleep, you slowly stretched out your weary legs. Your feet pressed against a foreign lump in your bed.

Mammon shot up, uncurling himself from the foot of your bed as he apparently woke up from a nap. “MC!” He crawled forward, placing both of his hands on the side of your face. “How ya feeling?” His sudden energy left you a bit winded, still trying to comprehend him caressing your face so tenderly. He let his arms drop to your shoulders. You shifted under his gaze, shaking your head.

“Like garbage…” Hot, sweaty, gross, you felt uncomfortable in your own skin. Mammon frowned, his blue eyes wide and shimmery. He resembled a puppy for just a second, observing your face for any sort of hope that by some miracle you’d fully recovered. When he saw you were still the worst for wear, he sighed, grabbing the covers around you and tucking it against your legs. Only, the blanket wasn’t one that you owned. Running your hands over the fabric, you noticed that this was one of Lucifer’s blankets. It was lighter and cooler than the blanket you had on before. You took in the rest of your room for a moment, noticing more than one thing out of place. Mammon had been resting on one of Belphie’s pillows, one of his new expensive ones. In fact the pillow you had been sleeping on was replaced with one of Sloth’s. On your nightstand, near your box of medicine and a box of tissues was a little diffuser, one you recognized as Asmo’s. A small plume of steam flushed out of the top, a mild comforting scent spreading throughout the space. A book that wasn’t yours, a replica of some sword draped over your table, and a number of other things that had never been between your walls before were littered here and there. You tilted your head. “Where did these things come from?” You wondered.

Mammon lowered his eyelids, his hands on his hips as he settled into a more comfortable seating position beside you. “Listen, my hands get grabby sometimes when I get anxious.”

You simply blinked at him. “You were worried?”

His sincere expression changed as he frowned, pink touching his cheeks as he shook his head. “W-well of course! Lucifer would make sure I never saw a lick of Grimm again if something happened to you…” His voice turned to a lower mumble. “And what, you thought I wouldn’t be worried after watching you take a spill like that? Had me thinking you’d bit the dust for a second!” His eyes flickered around the room as if he was making sure you two were truly alone. Then he leaned past you, fluffing up the pillow you had been laying on. As he straightened, he pressed his hand against your forehead, his body temperature much warmer than Lucifer’s. “Never make me that worried again, yeah? I...You see...Just don’t, okay?”

You hummed an affirming tone, nodding, a small smile creeping across your mouth. Then after the moment had passed, you shifted in your spot. You felt disgusting even after all that effort to take a shower this morning. Lucifer did say not to move too much, but right now you wanted to be clean more than anything. Pushing back the blankets encouraged a similar reaction to Lucifer’s earlier.

“Oi! What do you think you’re doing?!” Mammon scurried to his feet, standing in front of you with his arms wide to block you from moving, even though you had yet to even leave the bed. “Bed rest means staying in bed last I checked!”

“Please, Mammon, I just want to take a shower, I’m grimy and gross. I feel like an over-steamed dumpling.”

“Don’t let Beel hear you say that.” You managed to stand up, but your sense of balance left much to be desired. On instinct you ended up grabbing Mammon’s shoulders to keep from falling over. “Alright, nuh uh, you can barely move! What if you end up falling and cracking that head of yours open, huh?” Your mind was brought back to your morning mishap and near tumble in the shower from before. “You’re lucky you didn’t injure yourself too badly earlier!”

Your eyes widened. “H-how did you know about that? I don’t remember telling anyone.”

His eyebrows raised. “I’m talking about the dining hall, dummy. But now that you’ve let that little detail slip there’s not any chance I’ll let you go now! No way.” He put one arm under yours to keep you steady, ready to keep you back in bed for good.

Gathering up what little energy you had, you took several deep breaths, gently pushing yourself away from his body until you were standing on your own, just barely stable. “Mammon, please?” It had been your goal up until now to look as far from pathetic as possible, yet now you poured all that into your expression, eyes pleading, head tilted a bit to the side.

He squirmed. “Tch, you think you can do whatever you want just by giving me some puppy-eyes? Who do you think I am?”

“Fine,” you grumbled. “I bet Asmo would let me take a shower. Maybe I should call him and have him take care of me instead.”

“Asmo?! I...you...fine! But I’m c-coming with you, to make sure you stay safe and all.”

You lowered your eyes at him. “You can stay outside the bathroom.”

“I’m not payin’ for a busted door if I need to break in. I’m going inside! I’ll just turn around or somthin’.”

He stared you down with a nature stubborn enough to match your own. In your state now, you had little time to squabble. “Fine.” You started walking, leaning against bits of furniture to keep you steady. Acting rather gentlemanly, Mammon rushed ahead of you to open your door. Once he did, he took your arm tucked against his in a sort of escorting fashion. Saying nothing, you both took steady silent steps to the bathroom. You were immensely pleased to find it unoccupied, leaving Mammon’s side to step in. Like he promised he would, he followed you inside, shutting the door before his cheeks turned dark with embarrassment. He turned, parking himself in a corner with his face to the wall.

“I-I’ll be right here in case something happens, alright?” For him to come this far for you was...The added heat rushing through your body only caused you to feel worse, so you flicked on the water to heat up as you stripped. As you were taking off your pants, balancing on one leg, you teetered to the side, nearly falling. The tub right next to you served as your saving grace. You panted, cursing at yourself for being so clumsy. “You alright?!” Mammon clasped his hands over his face before turning around. “MC?” Riddled with nervous anxiety, he danced back and forth on his feet.

“I’m okay,” you wheezed. Just barely. You planted your foot against the fabric of your pants, tugging your other leg out. “Just keep looking at that wall.” You questioned the idea of him being in here at first, but now you were beginning to have little trust in yourself. What if you did collapse, locked, exposed inside an empty room till someone came looking for you? You shuddered. Climbing into the shower, you pulled the curtains across the rod until you were completely concealed. You let out a breath of relief as the steam once again cleared up your airways, the pressure building up in your head loosening. Shutting your eyes, you let the water wash over you, cleaning off the sticky sweat that had clung to your body. You simply stood there for a few moments, appreciating the serenity. Then you figured it would be best to get yourself clean while you had the capacity to. Reaching down for the soaps you used, you washed your hair and vigorously scrubbed down your body, envisioning all the germs swirling down the drain. Although by the time you were done, you became aware of the fact that you might’ve made the water a bit too hot, and you might’ve once again pushed yourself a little too far. Nausea came along with the dizziness, the floor losing it’s feeling of solidity. After you turned the water off, you tore the shower curtain back, stepping onto the bathroom mat.

“You done?” Mammon asked. Right now, all you could do was grunt in response. The small burst of energy you possessed had plummeted. You bypassed the towels and straight for your clothes. Only, the clothes you had been wearing previously were gone. On cue, Mammon explained. “Oh I got you some pajamas. Not good to be lying in those same clothes all day, besides, I got you something comfier.” Folded up on the floor by the tub were a comfortable pair of your pajamas. Pushing aside your humiliation, you picked up the “pajamas” he’d picked out for you. One of your shorts and...one of his t-shirts. It was one he had bought on a whim, much like most of his other purchases. Merch from an action movie you and him had watched in the theaters a while ago. He loved this thing. You could only stare at it for a few seconds. Mammon was right, these would be much nicer to sleep in.

With a meek voice you started slipping into the new outfit, still dripping. “T-thank you.” You had hardly finished poking your head through the shirt before your knees began to tremble. Your head felt foggy, your mind threatening to slip. “M-Mammon,” you gulped, your voice shaking.

He spun around, eyes squeezed shut. “What? What is it? Are you bleeding? Are you hurt? Are you dressed? Can I look?” As soon as you ‘mm-hm’ed he flashed his eyes open, took in the sight of your shuddering frame before hurrying over to you. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head for a moment, the world disappearing as you plummeted to the floor. You woke up in his arms hardly a few seconds after your fainting spell. Held tightly against his body, he wrapped his limbs around you, supporting you to keep you upright. “Hey, hey!” His voice shook as he squeezed you. “MC!”

“ ‘s too...hot.”

“Stupid human…” He muttered, his rugged tone falling short. “And you’re still drenched! Are you trying to make yourself even worse?” When his sharp remarks were met with your silence, he pulled you closer. “Ah...Really not good, huh?” He asked softly, one of his hands rubbing your back. You could only slowly shake your head. “Let’s get you back to bed, eh?” He brushed some damp hair away from your face before he dragged you out the door, his distress growing ever more visible the more you seemed to slump harder against him. It felt like an eternity inching back to your room, flopping facedown onto your bed as soon as it was in your sights. The mattress bobbed up and down, the movement surprisingly soothing, almost lulling your body to a light sleep right then and there. “Alright, come on. It’ll do you no good to fall asleep like that.” Mammon helped lift you up, letting you settle your head against his body, arms wrapped around his neck as he worked to get you back under the covers. He tucked you in, moving about the room nervously the less responsive you became. Shutting your eyes to conserve some energy, you listened to him curse under his breath, grumbling to himself about “fragile humans”. At some point, a dry fabric came into contact with the top of your head. You were pushed slightly to make some space for him to sit down. He adjusted you till your head was in his lap, the fabric massaging against your wet hair. “Stupid human…” He repeated, softly scrubbing the towel against your scalp. “Why’d you have to go and get yourself sick, huh?”

“...didn’t...mean to...I’m sorry…”

The motions across your head stopped, then you felt the back of his hand stroke against your cheek. “Now don’t sound like that...Do you know how much it hurts me to see ya like this?” He paused and then resumed ensuring your hair was as dry as he could get it. “Don’t you worry, the Great Mammon will be right here for you till you feel better, alright?” His voice sounded strained. “So ya better get better…” You cracked your eyes open, pushing yourself up. “What’re you doing? I-“ He quickly cut himself off as soon as you settled yourself between his legs, head against his chest. You could hear his throat casually gasp for breath. His nose came down to nestle against the top of your head, his arms dropping the towel, instead wrapping around your body. “Don’t do this for anyone but me, ya hear? Only I...only I want to take care of you like this.” He pulled the blanket up around the both of you, his soft breaths growing deeper and deeper. Eventually you both fell asleep.

Your mind was flooded with more fever dreams, clips and scenes of moments your conscious mind wouldn’t even know how to explain. It blurred the line between what was real and what was simply your imagination, so in the moment, when you were disturbed from your sleep, you didn’t even react. Your body was moved, flipped over, weightless, moved from the soft surface you were on to something firmer. You could only process it for a mere second before you were plunged back into a nonsensical plot your frayed mind came up with. After what felt like some time, you were just barely awoken again when harsh and hushed whispers buzzed in your ears.

“They shouldn’t be down here!”

“So cute! I mean, poor thing.”

“Are they still asleep?”

“Take them back.”

Once you realized that this was real, you slowly became aware of more things around you. As tired numbness left your limbs, you felt your arms pinned against your body, something around you constricted your movement. Panic struck you for only just a second, feeling that your blanket was simply wrapped around your body. You figured in your restless state you must’ve trapped yourself inside it. An involuntary groan escaped your mouth as you squirmed a little, moving your feet in an attempt to feel an escape.

Something outside of you moved you, tugging you tighter against something firm, a pressure rubbing circles into your back. It soothed you enough to keep you from struggling, but you were steadily waking up. The “wall” you were against vibrated as a deep voice rumbled out of it. “I just thought...it wouldn’t feel like a family dinner without them.” Your body was adjusted again, lifted to be propped up against what you now understood was a torso. One strong arm kept you still, draped against your back.

“S-surely you can’t hold them and eat at the same time, Beel,” someone muttered. “Why don’t you let your big bro hold em?”

The body holding you tightened around you, shielding you. “No.”

“Don’t underestimate him.”

“Should we wake them up?”

“Don’t humans heal faster when they sleep?”

Someone else let out an exhausted breath. “Fine, but they’re to be put back in bed once you’re done.”

The chest your head was against hummed with satisfaction. “Got it.” Soon, quiet but eager eating noises could be heard outside your muffled prison. If you connected the dots correctly, you were resting against Beel who had brought you down to dinner while you had been asleep. Was this a brief glance into what Belphie felt like? Albeit with more comfort and less...pain. Although he’d probably beg to differ. Right now, you couldn’t even pinpoint where the source of your suffering was coming from. It just seemed to be...all over, even down to the tips of your fingers. Even if you had wanted to move, you didn’t have the energy for it, so despite being almost wide awake at this point, you stayed in place. You tried to focus on anything else to keep your mind off the aching. Beel’s heart sounded like a distant drum. Burying your face closer against his body, you let out a small whimper, focusing on the melodic thumping of his healthy heart. You could even hear the pace speed up as your cheek pressed up against him.

“Beel, you alright?”

The sound of eating stopped, and a clink of something metallic against glass sounded before a second arm enveloped you, a hand settled at the back of your head. “I’ll eat in a little bit,” Beel whispered.

“In a--”

“Shhhh! Shut up, Mammon!”

“I mean…” The voice returned to barely audible. “Whadda sayin’ ‘in a bit’? You’re not sick again are ya?” Beel didn’t grace anyone with a response. You were gently squeezed in his hug, a weight coming down on top of your head, presumably his chin. The hand behind your head moved to the space between your shoulder blades, moving up and down in rhythmic strokes along your spine. It was uncanny, you thought, how he almost immediately knew how desperate you were for some comfort. Or maybe he was just perceptive like that. If anyone would be, it would be Beel.

“How are they feeling?” Someone asked.

Cooler air poured against your face as the space left for you to breathe was made wider. Light from the dining hall illuminated outside your eyelids. Beel’s hand pressed against your forehead, moving down to cup your cheeks. Out of everyone, he always ran the warmest, bordering on nearly being a walking furnace. And yet even he moaned in unease, his stomach groaning alongside him in worry. “Still too hot,” he announced. You allowed yourself to flicker your eyes open, looking up at him just as he moved his hand away. Both his eyebrows raised in surprise before he quickly frowned. “Did I wake you up? Sorry.” You figured that now that everyone knew you were up, it would be time to move. Sitting up straighter in your spot, you wiggled one of your arms out of your cocoon, pulling the fabric of your blanket off your head, letting it settle around your waist. You rubbed spots out from your vision, blinking as you soaked in the sight of the room.

Asmo politely dabbed at the corners of his mouth with a napkin, settling it back in his lap before addressing you with the sweetest pair of eyes. “Good evening, darling! How’re you feeling?”

You had half of a mind to try to play the “I’m fine” card, but with your fit with Satan and fainting scare with Mammon, it would be no use to even try to pretend you were fine. So you didn’t see the harm in being honest. “Like I’ve been to hell and back.”

“You are in hell,” Belphie quipped.

“You know what I mean.” You turned your head and glanced up, your heart pounding more prominently when you once again realized just how big Beel was compared to you, an otherworldly size. Sweeping away your embarrassment, you started tugging at the blanket to free your legs, moving to leave his lap. “Sorry, Beel.”

His hand grabbed one of your wrists. “What do you mean?” He tugged at you, repositioning you firmer in his lap. “You didn’t do anything.” His beautiful amethyst irises stared right into yours. “I wanted you here. Meals aren’t the same without you.” He pat the top of your head, letting his fingers scratch gently into your scalp. In most situations, you’d find your open vulnerability to be embarrassing, but right now you couldn’t care less. You leaned back into him, nestling your nose into his chest, using his body to block out the light. Beel gripped the blanket and pulled it back up to settle around your shoulders.

“Speaking of meals,” Lucifer started. “It’s about time MC had something to eat.”

Satan spoke up. “Do we even have anything decent enough for sick humans to have?” The brothers went back and forth for a while, bringing recommendations hypothetically to the table about what would be best for you.

“Belphie knows the most about humans, what do you think?” Beel wondered.

A lone monotone hum rang out for a moment. “I think it was stew or something like that.”

A strange bout of irritation drilled in you. You turned your head, addressing the group. “You know you could just ask the human right here. I might be sick but I’m not completely helpless.”

Brusque tones usually granted you grating glares, but even Lucifer seemed to give you a pass. “So?” The eldest questioned. “Tell us what you need and we can get it for you.”

Something about that knocked the rebellious wind out of you. You lowered your head a bit and sighed. “Don’t even worry about it, I’m not hungry anyway.” A bold statement to claim whilst sitting in the lap of Gluttony.

Shaking you lightly, Beel squinted at you. “You’ve barely eaten all day.” The expression on his face turned Lucifer levels of stern. It wasn’t an appearance he took too often. Even now you knew this was a losing battle. A flash of a memory popped up in your mind, one of when Beel had been sick. You pressed your lips together into a thin line.

“It’s fine.”

“It’s not.”

“Beel--”

“MC. Eat.” His flat tone trembled throughout his body, sending a shudder through you. Lucifer was always strict, so it never caught you off guard, not anymore. But when Beel got this way it pierced through everyone in the room. As if they’d been the one commanded, everyone took a single bite of their meal.

You gave in, your stature shrinking. “Fine...something light then. Soup’s fine. I’ll go get some…”

Beel’s arms wrapped around you again, keeping you to him. “No you won’t. Levi.”

The third-born almost yelped, sinking down into his seat before stuttering. “S-sure, I-I’ll get it…” As he headed to the kitchen you could hear him grumble. “Of course he had to pick me. Why me? It’s always me…” You felt a bit sorry for the otaku as he slunk away. In fact you almost felt sorry for everyone in the room. Even just alluding to the skip of a meal had Beel suddenly tense, on alert. He had you held against him in a guarded manner, his torso bent forward to lean over what he could of yours. He didn’t settle back down till Levi came back in a handful of minutes later, resting a bowl of soup in front of you. It was of human origins you assumed, it looked like regular chicken noodle. The aroma had bits of nostalgia bubble within you. And now that it was here, you hated to admit that you actually were hungry.

You reached over to try to grab a spoon, falling just a bit short of the table’s edge. Beel’s arms were admittedly much longer than yours, not needing to sit as close as you usually did. Beel grasped a clean utensil for you, getting a decent portion of stock in it’s dip. He held his other hand under the spoon to make sure he didn’t spill any, then he brought it over to you. Did you try to deny it? Maybe a little, but Beel’s spine-chilling glower had you reconsider. You opened your mouth and let him feed you. The hot broth slid down your sore throat easily, relieving some of the pain. As it warmed you up from the inside, Beel finally went back to smiling, everyone breathing in relief. “See, doesn’t it make you feel better?” Beel brought a new spoonful to your lips.

You swallowed again and admittedly nodded. “A bit.”

Out of the blue, Beel brought his face down, planting a gentle kiss to the top of your head. Some of his siblings gasped, but if the demon of gluttony heard it, he pretended he hadn’t. His free hand went back to rubbing your back, and you’d be lying if you said it wasn’t nice, the many sensations driving some of the pain from your mind. “Good,” Beel beamed. “Remember, your body needs fuel to keep going.”

“I know…” The parallel between now and when he had been sick was almost perfect. Beel took the bowl in his hands, bringing it over to settle in your lap, keeping it steady in his hold. “Isn’t it hot?” You asked, worried he’d burn his skin.

“Not to me,” he assured you.

You sighed, taking the spoon from him so you could eat yourself. “Thank you for always looking out for me, Beel.”

You expected him to be pleased, but he quickly turned downcast. “I couldn’t protect you from this.” Heart breaking, all you could do was stare down into your lap, watching the broth gently swirl in the bowl. This had mostly been your fault. If you had done something just a bit differently, maybe…

“No, Beel, that wasn’t your fault,” Belphie spoke up, pushing his plate with his leftovers on it closer to his twin to finish. “Besides, it’s your job now to take care of MC now more than ever, right?”

Beel turned his head away from the food, peering down at you in his lap. He nodded once, bringing his head down to press his forehead to yours. “You’re right. Sick or not, I’ll always watch over them.”

After dinner, Beel carried you back up to bed, reluctant to let you be free of his arms, but he managed. After giving you one last once-over and another little kiss to your temple, he hurried back down to the dining hall. After all, he was far from having his fill of food. Lucifer had followed the two of you inside, taking your temperature once more. 100.7, still higher than he’d prefer it to be, but glad to discover it had gone down even if just by a hair. He allowed you to take some medicine and urged you to get some more rest. Flicking the light off, he wished you sweet dreams before he left, torn away from you by work he couldn’t ignore. Although, even with the comfort of your bed and the satisfying feeling of something warm in your belly, for the first time, slumber eluded you. It wasn’t that you weren’t tired--exhaustion might as well have been your permanent state at this point--but shutting your mind off, drifting away into peaceful bliss didn’t seem like an option right now.

You spent a few hours on your D.D.D. scrolling through posts and web-pages, anything to keep you occupied. Although, that eventually bored you after a while. You sat up, trying to not let the loneliness of your empty room consume you. Had everyone gone to bed already? Had you already gotten used to falling asleep with someone beside you? That couldn’t be the case, right? You slowly got out from under your covers, padding over to the door. Maybe if you walked around the House of Lamentation enough, you’d be able to go to bed. You were feeling a bit better, capable of moving around on your own at the very least. You entered the empty hallway, the midnight moon rays creeping across the rug settled across the stone floor. The branches outside the windows cast twisted shadows across the corridor. Some people might’ve found it dreadful, but whether it was your own stranger tastes or the fact that you’d been down here so long, you found it to be serene in a mystical sort of way.

Drifting through the halls like a weary ghost patrolling the perimeter, you wandered past each of the brother’s rooms. The house was surprisingly still. Before you knew it, you ended up in the music room. Shifting your feet towards the gorgeous ebony piano, your fingers brushed lightly over the ivory keys. Pushing down a low B, the note reverberated through the room, your skin tingling at the broken silence. It quenched some of your boredom. So you pushed another one, the lowest note this time, the deep tone rumbling through you.

“Having fun are we?”

You jumped, every hair across your body standing up on end. Swirling around, you met a pair of ruby eyes in the shadows. A string of curses left your lips. “What in hell’s name are you doing, Lucifer? Nearly scared me to death…” You pressed a hand to your beating chest, adrenaline coursing through your veins. You sunk to your knees, the wind knocked out of you.

He stepped further into the light, arms crossed, almost fuming. “I could ask you the same question. Once again I have to wonder, what are you doing out of bed? Are you that determined not to recover, is that it?” Hair slightly messy, well-tailored pajamas barely creased, you figured he must’ve just gotten out of bed, possibly disturbed before he could fall asleep. It would explain the death glare he was giving you.

“I...couldn’t sleep,” you answered truthfully, followed by an innocent little shrug.

With two fingers, he pinched at the bridge of his nose. “And so Levi just let you waltz around on your own?”

You tilted your head. “Levi?”

Something dawned on him with your confused question. A terrifying smile arched over his face, the corners twitching as the small amount of light in the room was snuffed out by his menacing aura. “Leviathan…” Yelping at the sudden movement, Lucifer hoisted you over one of his shoulders, gliding across the floor at a ridiculous pace until he was in front of Levi’s room. You wiggled, beating a gentle fist against Lucifer’s back.

“Let me down!”

He let you slide off of him, settling you back on your feet, but he quickly grasped one of your hands to keep you to his side. Despite his furious demeanor, he gently knocked on the door, waiting for approximately two seconds before knocking harder. “Levi!”

You heard the otaku approach his door before he swung it open. “What?! I’m in the middle of a very important raid! What could you possibly need--” The entrance to the room cracked open, Levi sticking his head out before all the color drained from his face. The tangerine hue of his eyes flickering from you to his older brother, the demon with paper-thin patience. Levi gulped, the little bump in his throat bobbing.

“Forgive me if I’m wrong, but didn’t I inform you that you would be keeping an eye on MC tonight?” The higher lilt in his question was laced with hostility. “Or maybe I didn’t make myself clear.” You felt a pang of guilt for the demon of envy.

“Lucifer,” you urged, tugging at his hand which kept you in a vice grip. “I’ll go back to bed, it’s not an issue.” He was ready to blow a gasket, the weariness of dealing with work and keeping his brother’s shenanigans at bay without your assistance clearly was affecting him. Who knew he’d come to depend on you this much? You reached up, rubbing his shoulder with the sweetest look you could come up with. “Please, don’t be angry.”

Shutting his eyes, squeezing your hand, he gave himself time to breathe. “MC, rest. Levi, take care of them. And no, I’m not asking.” The dark circles under Lucifer’s eyes almost seemed to run blacker, his irises duller than they should’ve been.

“Hey, don’t worry about me,” you comforted him. “Go get some sleep yourself.”

His shoulders sagged ever so slightly. “The sick shouldn't be fussing over the hale and whole, you know, but I will. I shall see you tomorrow.” He brought your hand up, kissing it before he let it go. “And, Levi.” The demon of envy flinched, hoping that he’d been forgotten. “I’ll see you tomorrow as well.”

Levi hung his head low as his older brother walked away, preemptively sniffling at his possible doom. “...and my raid is ruined…T-this is just the worst.” You were a bit sorry for Levi for being thrown at you like this, but you couldn’t help but wonder in the back of your mind if he...had forgotten about you. You watched the outline of Lucifer disappear into the darkness before you shivered. The temperature inside the house was dropping. “Huh?” Levi snapped out of his pitiful thoughts. “Are you-are you cold?”

“A little…”

“O-oh, I guess...maybe...Would it be alright if you stayed in my room tonight?” His stance shifted behind his door, anxiously moving his gaze around to keep from making direct eye contact with you.

Sighing, you nodded. After all, with the adrenaline crash, you doubted you had energy left to walk back to your room. “Sure.”

He let you in, shutting the door behind you and locking it with a magical charm to keep the riff-raff out. He scurried over to his tub-bed, pulling out some random plush collectibles, and letting them rest against the floor for now. He spun on his feet for a moment, taking in his room before bringing his thumb up to bite on the nail of it. “Y-you can stay anywhere, I have some blankets I guess...Gah! Why did Lucifer have to make me watch you?” The heart in your chest sank a bit, and you lowered your head, a small “oh” leaving your lips. Clutching his hair, Levi immediately regretted what he said. “No! No no no no, that’s-that’s not what I-I-I--” He stuttered for a good while, unable to grasp proper control of his tongue. “Wait, wait!” Taking a moment to collect his thoughts, he picked up one last Ruri-Chan plush from the bed, covering part of his face with it. “I just...I don’t remember the last time I took care of someone sick…Knowing me, I-I’ll somehow make you worse! What-what if I’m forced to make a split second decision that could be the-the difference between life and death?! I’ll end up killing you! Living the rest of my life in isolated drunken regret!”

He quickly spiraled down a slippery slope of what-ifs, a dramatic fantasy playing out before him where he’d been cast out of the Devildom as your murderer, a disgusting vagabond, living on wildberries and wildlife with naught but his loneliness and shadow to keep him company. His rising anxiety was making him hyperventilate. You had to come over to him, gently take his shoulders and shake him slightly, dragging him back to reality. “Levi, I highly, highly doubt it will come to that. When Lucifer means ‘take care of me’ he mostly means making sure I have what I need.” You gave the sides of his arms a little rub.

“But I don’t know what you need!”

“Well, what I need right now is for you to calm down, first off,” you told him, dropping your hands back to your sides, gripping the end of the tub. Climbing into his bed had never really been an issue before, but hoisting yourself over the edge proved difficult a task. You felt his shaky hands come under your arms, hoisting you enough till you could sink yourself into his nest of pillows. You grinned, thanking him as you reached up to rub the top of his head. “See? Stuff like that, nothing too difficult. Fetch quests and escort missions. Easy mode. I’ll be here, just do your own thing.”

That seemed to ease him enough. He gripped one of his blankets and pulled it over you, moving back over to his desk. Muttering about the raid, he clacked at the keys, his mood steadily improving the more he lost himself in the world of gaming. You felt at the fabric of your pants, remembering with a small moan that they didn’t have pockets...meaning you’d left your D.D.D. in your room. Figures, you thought. So, in your last ditch effort to stay entertained, you moved Levi’s pillows around, making a small wall to prop yourself against, peering over the top of the basin to stare at his screen. You watched his character move around, fighting random enemies. He was completely absorbed, lightly talking to himself as he moved along, humming the victory theme anytime a quest was completed. At one point, he was paying too much attention to a beautifully fleshed out character model to notice what they were telling him, information that he needed to know but missed out on. After that, he was sent towards a boss that ended up instantly killing him when it finished charging up its “claymore of chaos’ move. Levi tried one more time, then three more times, and then about twenty. “What the heck?! How am I supposed to beat you?!” Levi finally shouted, pushing himself slightly away from his desk.

Speaking up for the first time in a few hours, you shared with him the information he missed. “You’re supposed to use your Mystical Missile spell.”

He jumped, almost falling out of his chair. “I thought you were asleep!”

“I still can’t sleep…I don’t know why.” You pulled your blanket tighter around you, peeking at him from your spot. A blush ran over his cheeks, rubbing the back of his head.

“Oh...Really? Mystical Missile? But it’s a trashy beginner spell.”

“That NPC lady said it would work, I dunno.” You shrugged. “Try it out, it can’t hurt.”

So he did, removing one of his high level skills to equip the basic one. Severely doubting success, he entered the boss arena again. It was admittedly tense, keeping you both on the edge of your seat. Once “claymore of chaos” was building, Levi let the spell fly towards him. The boss staggered, a crack forming in it’s armor. “It worked!” He shouted, yelping as a new flurry of enemy spells flew towards his character. If it was entertainment you were looking for, you found it, cheering him on as he hunched over, focused on his every move. Once it went down, you both whooped and cheered. It had been a bit too much for your lungs, dissolving into some coughs. Levi rushed to his feet, rubbing your back. “You okay?”

You nodded, letting your body shudder with a few more hacks till it was done. Voice more hoarse than before, you still smiled at him. “You did it!”

A laugh bubbled out of him. “Victory! Dun dun dun! Legendary item acquired!” Then his expression fell for a second. “Have you just been sitting there, watching me the whole time?” You nodded. He gripped one of his hoodie sleeves. “Would you rather do something...together?”

You brightened. “Sure!”

Giddy, he hurried over to the computer, picking up his loot before saving the game, closing the program. “If you’re in the mood for watching something, how about this new anime I found? I’m only a few episodes in, but I can start over! It’s called ‘I Transferred To A New School, But Everyone There Is Part Of The Elite, So I Have To Try And Keep Up With My Classmates Despite Me Being Normal, But I Accidentally Fooled The School Into Thinking I’m A Long Lost Heir To A Forgotten Throne’.”

Blinking, you stared at him. “You lost me at Elite.” Why the Devildom had anime with titles the length of chapters, you’d never know.

“It’s good! I promise!” He shifted his monitor so you could see it from your spot easier, turning the anime on with an elated aura, much nicer than the gloom-and-doom one from earlier. This was the Levi you loved to see, the one you tried to cherish as much as you could. He sat in his chair, scooting back till he was beside you so you could watch it together. It was a cute anime, something mostly a slice of life, a normal main character in a school setting surrounded by powerful beings, the plot moved forward with magical shenanigans...something about it sounded familiar. One of the episodes showed the main character fallen ill under some strange circumstance, their roommate they stayed with flustered but determined to take care of them. The friend--and obvious love interest--asked if he could hold the protagonist’s hand. Levi made a little noise. “MC, c-can I hold your hand? I mean, if that’s super weird don’t even listen to me because who would even want to hold hands with me anyway and--”

“Sure,” you smiled, reaching your hand out from the blanket a little.

He hesitated for a second and then took it, resuming to watch the show. Much to your amusement, any move the character made, he made as well, taking it as if it were some sort of guide. He brushed the hair from your face, made sure the blanket was tucked gently around you, ensured you were comfortable. Then, the friend in the show made a bold move, snuggling next to the main character as they both fell asleep. Levi went stiff, becoming extremely flustered. You had to admit, the concept was...enticing, and you almost leapt at any opportunity to tease envy. You tugged at his hand, making him look at you with your arms outstretched. If this had been an anime, he would’ve collapsed, his soul flying from his mouth. But even Levi couldn’t resist the temptation. He stepped into his bed, slowly, warily at first. He let you take him into your arms, wrapping his own body around you as you both squeezed together in the tub. “I...I...This is...a dream…”

You chuckled, settling your head on his chest, feeling his motoring heart pound in his chest. “Let’s watch some more, Levi.” Only, you hardly remembered anything after that. For shortly after he curled against you, the strange barrier keeping you awake completely collapsed. He had draped the blanket over you both, fidgeting with the hair at the nape of your neck. You must’ve turned your head against him, comforted enough by his presence to fall asleep.

“Medicine?”

“Right here.”

“Water?”

“You brought me like a gallon’s worth.”

“D.D.D.?”

“You can see it in my hands.”

Lucifer went down the list, the actual written list he’d come up. You sat in bed, trying hard not to blush and squirm under the many gazes in your room this morning. “Extra blankets?”

“I have everything and anything needed to last an entire week in solitary!” You shook your head, a little irate at each of them, but appreciating their concern all the same. Icepacks, blankets, snacks, water, bandages, and many other things were brought in your room in preparation. “You all are only going to a Student Council meeting, not off on some lengthy business trip.”

“Absolutely right!” Asmo shouted, sitting next to you in bed, hugging you to him and caressing your cheek against his. “It’s some stupid meeting anyway, which means one of us can stay can’t we?”

Every member of the household was already shouting reasons why they and they alone should have the opportunity to stay with you. Lucifer’s little vein above his eyebrow throbbed. “Enough!” The room went silent. “As much as I would love to permit myself to stay home,” he cleared his throat, “not a single one of us can miss today’s meeting. Which is why I’m taking every precaution. EDP?”

You gently pushed Asmo off of you, raising an eyebrow. The demon of lust pouted, stroking your head instead. “What’s an EDP?” You asked.

“An EDP is a short term we use for an Emergency Defense Pillar,” Satan explained. “A popular and fairly new little device in the Devildom, especially for lesser magic users or those who aren’t trained in combat.”

“I’m still at a loss,” you admitted. “Is it like a baton or something?”

Rummaging around in his pockets, Mammon brandished a small black object. It was cylindrical, about as big as a lighter, a glowing red button on the side. “I brought it! Now, let me teach you, human. If you’re being chased or cornered, this handy lil’ doodad is going to be essential if you wanna escape. You just push this little button here, and--”

Lucifer’s chest tightened. “Mammon, don’t!”

The second born pressed the button, his mistake just now clicking in his mind, chucking it a bit in front of him. Asmo grabbed you and tucked you against his chest, pushing your back to the wall while he shielded you with his body. Every other brother hit the floor, jumping away from the object. A huge pillar of fire sprouted from the object, swirling blue flames emitting intense heat as well as a roaring sound. It nearly burnt your eyes. Asmo tucked your head into his shoulder, waiting until the fire was suddenly sucked back into the small container, rattling against the floor. Your protector pulled away from you, letting you stare at the pitch black circle burnt into your ceiling and floor, a round chunk taken out of your carpet, some fibers still flickering. Lucifer came over and snuffed out the singed pieces with his shoe, the vein in his head more prominent. He was about to shout but you beat him to it. “That’s absolutely unnecessary! In what scenario would I need to use that?! Is there even a safety on that thing?!”

A little sheepish, Mammon picked himself back up off the floor. “Well, you’ve gotten the best visual example you can get. You’re welcome.”

“I don’t want it, someone take it with them,” you groaned. “What if I end up accidentally getting flame-broiled in my sleep?”

Beel closed his eyes. “Flame-broiled hell bats…”

Lucifer bent down and picked up the EDP from the floor. “Perhaps this is a bit too dangerous.”

“Glad we can see eye to eye on that one…” You tapped the screen of your D.D.D., noticing that the time to the meeting was rapidly approaching. “You guys have fifteen minutes! Stop worrying about me and get out of here!”

Many wide-eyed demons scrambled to get out your door, knowing that the punishment for being late was not something they wanted to risk. Even Lucifer was rushed, booking it out of your room. Then he popped his head in. “You’ll call if anything happens?”

“Yes.”

He left again, the door shutting. It burst back open, his overprotective nature coming to light. “You have your alerts on, right?”

You chuckled, you couldn’t prevent yourself from doing so. “Yes, mother hen, now go!” He growled, but this time left for good, the uproar from the group slowly fading away. Once more, you shook your head, staring at the charcoal colored circle against your ceiling. “They’re insane,” you stated aloud.

“Truly,” someone replied. You yelped, chucking the closest pillow at the sudden voice. Solomon caught it, laughing. “Sorry for startling you. The demons are gone, I’m assuming?” He walked back over, handing you your plushy ammo.

“They just left. Why are you here?” You took the pillow from him, settling it in your lap as you crossed your legs over your mattress.

He pulled an upset face. “Why do you sound so suspicious? I’m here to check up on you. I had to make sure those demons were taking care of you properly.” He grabbed a chair from your table, scooting up by the bedside. He spotted the hard-to-miss burns and sighed. “Maybe I should’ve gotten here sooner. Oh well, an easy fix. Spirits of twine and stone, turn back the time to whence this matter was well known, heed the Sorcerer Solomon!” Flowing restorative magic rushed over the floor and ceiling, soaking into the atoms, leaving it as perfect as it had been earlier. Actually, almost better than how it had been before. Not even the smell of burning remained. In a small flourish, he stretched out his hands. “Ta-da.”

“Thank you.” You couldn’t help but giggle at his theatrics. “And the brothers have been taking care of me just fine. I don’t have a fever anymore.”

He reached his hand out, thumb brushing across your face, he hummed to himself before pulling you gently, pressing his lips to your forehead. You gasped a little, covering your mouth as your face burned. He sat back, nodding. “You feel much better.” He caught your expression, trying to stifle a smirk. “Hm? I was simply taking your temperature.”

Composing yourself, you tightly gripped the pillow in your hands. “Kinda an old method, don’t you think?”

“I prefer traditional practices,” he shared. “But that wasn’t the main reason I came over.”

“Oh?” You’ll admit, at first the EDP had seemed utterly ridiculous, but in this dreaded scenario, you almost wished to have it in your hands. Solomon pushed back his cloak, reaching behind his back and pulling out a fresh steaming plate of food. Already you felt sweat bead across your face. “A-ah, how nice of Simeon to make me something.” It was more of a personal wish, although you knew that it wasn’t going to be the case.

“Not Simeon, actually. I made it!” He beamed, completely oblivious. “How long has it been since you’ve had a home-cooked human meal?”

“N-not too long ago actually, and-I-um-the brothers made sure to feed me before they left so-”

“Surely you can have a few bites, right?” He pleaded. “I made sure to add all kinds of ingredients I know have some healing properties, so I’m sure it’ll enhance the flavor. Here, no need to waste extra energy, let me feed you. Say ah.”

“MC!” The sound of someone frantically calling your name in the distance slowly brought you to. “MC!” Something snapped as you moved, pain coursing through your entire body. You opened your eyes, not able to see much through the leaves. Wait...leaves? The smell of earth and roses rushed to your nose. That and the thorns trapping you and piercing you were enough to tell you what you needed to know. You were somehow entangled in a rose bush. The voice sounded again, closer this time. “MC, where are you?!”

Audio recognition kicked in, able to place the voice. Tilting your head back, you put all the power you could into your shout. “Belphie!” There was silence for a while, and white hot panic settled in your stomach...or maybe that was. Oh that was right…

Suddenly the leaves were pulled back, Belphie’s head staring down at you. “This is new for you.”

You tried to move, but your clothes were stuck in the thorn’s clutches, not to mention any movement you made drove the bush’s claws deeper into your skin. “I…I think I’m stuck.”

“Wow, that really sucks for you.”

“Belphie!” You tried sitting up, a sharp pain in your cheek causing you to hiss, drawing in breath through your teeth. Something drifted down your cheek, the taste of bitter copper coming across your lips. Blood. “P-please help me.”

“I was only joking. Don’t move, you’ll make things worse.” He tugged at some of the branches, the disruption poking you some more. Tugging at your sleeve, he detangled your shoulder, working on your lower arm next.

“Ow, ow, ooooow,” you whined.

“Don’t be such a baby.” Leaning down a bit too far, one of the thorns pricked him right in the thumb. He cursed, threatening to leave you alone once you laughed. “You’re really scratched up…” He frowned as he gestured to many thin red scratches across your body. You whimpered again, reaching up at him to tug you free. Sloth kicked in, his impatience to take his time fluttered away. He basically flattened the bush with his feet, breaking the twigs stuck to you with his hands. His arms wrapped around your torso, tugging you up, the sound of some fabric tearing as he did. He sighed, taking you a few steps away from the bush before letting you slide past his arms, flopping to the soil. He came down to kneel beside you, grabbing thorns and leaves out of your hair, rubbing a thumb over the small wound on your cheek. “When you wonder why we worry about leaving you alone, this is why. How long have you been napping in bushes?”

“I…” A sudden chill overtook you, your stomach and the food...you remembered the food Solomon had fed you. The taste...torture. You could feel it in your throat.

“MC?” You pushed Belphie away, scrambling on your hands and knees to another unfortunate set of flora. Without nitty gritty details, let’s just say your body had the smart idea to not keep Solomon’s food in you any longer. Trembling, you coughed up the last of it, cold sweat dripping down your face. Belphie’s hands touched your back. “You’re not going to be sick on me, are you?” You didn’t respond to him, trying to catch your breath. He mumbled, pulling you into his lap. Covered in dirt and sweat, you curled into him, shivering. Then the both of you watched in slight horror as all the plants planted around your...expulsed poison all wilted at once, almost crumbling to dust. “Wicked father of demons…” Belphie breathed. “What the hell did you eat?”

You only needed to utter one word for him to understand everything entirely. “Solomon…”

“Dear Diavolo…I’m lucky to have found you alive.” He whipped his head around. “He’s not still here is he?”

You shook your head, rubbing at the saliva on your lips. “I don’t remember...I don’t remember leaving my room…I don’t remember…”

Working hard to get to his feet, he lifted you along with him. You wrapped your arms around his neck, your legs against his body, groaning into him. “Alright, I guess we’re doing this now.” He held onto you, sidestepping past the destroyed flora and towards the house. “I’m just telling you this now though, if Solomon is still here, I will leave you.”

Reaching up his neck, you grasped tightly onto some of his hairs. “I will drag you down with me.”

“Confident words for someone I’m carrying like a baby,” he snickered, but he let the witty back and forth drop as he entered the house. For a moment, he stood still, taking in the air of the place. “I think we’re good,” he announced, but continuing to take wary steps up the stairs. He picked up the pace in the hallways, sneaking away towards the familiar spiral staircase that led it’s way up to the attic. The doors he pushed open were heavy in more ways than one. Quietly shutting it behind the two of you, he headed over to the bed. A jolting ticklish pain raced down your body as Belphie jabbed his fingers against your waist. “Off, parasite.” You relinquished your grasp as fast as you could, flopping onto the attic mattress. You crawled up, sliding under the covers, planting your face into the nearest pillow. Right when you thought you were recovering, you were back to being bed-ridden. Belphie left you alone in silence for a minute. When he came back, you had to take a moment to realize he had ever been gone. He was stealthy like that. He dropped a small first-aid kit as well as a bottle of water on the blanket. “Come here.”

“But I-”

“But I,” he mocked. “But I don’t care. I need to look after some of those scratches.” Huffing, you dramatically threw the blanket to the side, coming over to sit in front of him. Taking the water bottle in hand, you gratefully moved to take a hearty swig to wash down some of the acid. Belphie grabbed it from you before you could. “Not for drinking.” He twisted the cap off and pulled out a small clean washcloth from his pockets. He pressed the fabric against the opening and tilted the bottle up, getting the rag slightly wet. He then pressed it against your cheek. “We don’t want these infected.” Slowly, he dabbed at each of your shallow scratches, making sure they were clear of dirt. Once he was done with that, he shoved the remaining water at you.

“I don’t want your rag water.”

“Fine.”

But the acidity in your mouth was grating against your teeth. You snatched the bottle from him, swallowing some grateful gulps to cease the gentle burning. Belphie had a mild cocky expression, wiping away the blood. Closing an eye due to slight stinging, you watched his concentrated face. “So…” You started, watching him soon open the box and remove a small tube of medicated ointment. “Why’re you home?”

Squeezing a small amount of the clear gel on the tip of his finger, he started applying it to your cleaned wounds. “Oh, I snuck out of the meeting.”

“Belphie!”

“What?” He took one hand, grabbing your face for a second, squishing your cheeks, mimicking the way your lips pursed. You shook him off, trying to keep yourself from being flustered. “Can you blame me? All I could think about was you...nice and warm in bed...and I was sleepy.” He let out a large yawn. “Still sleepy.”

“Well…” You paused for a second, heat rising to your cheeks. “I’m glad you did.”

He stopped for a second, looking into your eyes. “Hm? Say that again?”

Swallowing a lump in your throat, you furled your eyebrows. “I didn’t say anything.”

“Are you suuuure?” He drawled. “Cus it sounded like you missed me.” One look at your embarrassed face sent him laughing. He poked at your ribs, tickling your sides, singing the words. “You missed me, you missed me.”

Burying your face in your hands, you kicked him a little. “Stop it!”

“Fine,” he smirked. “Anyway, I think you’re mostly taken care of. Most of these have dried and scabbed over. They weren’t very deep anyway.” He lifted your arm, turning it to make sure he’d treated you completely. “So now we can do what I came here for!” It was his first excited expression in a while. He jumped into you, grabbing you by the waist against the bed. Both your heads hit the pillows, the blanket following shortly after. Already you could feel his face against your back. A happy hum of his buzzed into your skin, his hands rubbing against your stomach. Pouting a little, you realized that with Belphie stuck to you like this, you weren't going anywhere soon, so you shifted to get comfortable. You relaxed with a heavy sigh. “You know…” Belphie drowsily muttered. “I...missed...you too…”

“MC! My poor precious MC! I’m never ever leaving you alone again!” Asmo wailed, clinging to you like if he let you go you’d suddenly die. “I can’t believe Belphie did this to you!”

Speaking up from the corner, Belphie scoffed. “I actually helped them, just so everyone knows.” Back in your room, each of the demon brothers had returned from the meeting, having found you and Belphie after a while in the attic. Of course, your small wounds, Belphie’s absence, and the strange destruction of a segment of the garden was called into question.

“And my plants!” Asmo shrieked. “They were such a lovely background for my Devilgram posts! They’re ruined!”

“I’m so-” you tried to apologize, but Asmo pressed a gentle finger against your lips.

“Shush! I don’t blame you a single bit, my darling. It’s all these ruffians!” He kissed your cheek in spots around your little wound.

“Hey! Solomon’s the person responsible, not us!” Mammon shouted.

Lucifer’s weariness was especially noticeable today. You wondered what he had to put up with at the meeting. “At the very least, we’re glad you’re safe, MC. Knowing what Solomon’s cuisine is capable of…” He pinched at the bridge of his nose. “I’m heading to my office...try not to burn the house down,” he sighed, exiting quietly.

You tilted your head. “Is he okay?” You asked.

“When Belphie left, let’s just say Diavolo wasn’t exactly pleased,” Satan explained, a wicked grin stretching his lips wide. “So in exchange he agreed to be Diavolo’s personal servant tomorrow. I hope our Demon Lord has some entertaining things in store.”

Belphie’s face brightened. “Did I do that? Whoops.” Hardly a glimmer of remorse in him.

“You guys owe it to him at least to try and make it a calm night,” you urged, hoping to ease some of the shenanigans already being plotted in their minds.

Mammon shook his head. “Why do we gotta owe him anything? If he’s out for the count tonight, I can hit the casinos without a problem!” He came over rubbing your head. “Give me some of that luck, yeah?” You doubted you had any, but he bounded out the door.

“Belphie, I’ve got a little idea I’d like to try, but I need an extra set of hands. Care to join me?” Satan curled a little finger around his chin, mischief making his green eyes glow wild.

Belphie chuckled. “Ab-so-lutely.” With devilish grins, they both sniggered, malevolent whispers drifting between them as they left.

A rumbling growl echoed through the room. If this had been anywhere else, you would’ve been terrified. But this was the Devildom, and you knew Beel’s stomach when you heard it. “Oh...I’m sorry, MC, but I’m starving. I’ll see you in a bit.” He came over, trying to give you a hug despite Asmo still holding onto you for dear life. He ended up hugging both of you anyway. With more than a little speed, he also left your room, probably heading straight for the kitchen.

A high pitched ‘bling’ reached your ears. Levi pulled out his D.D.D.. “Oh! The new patch for Sorcerer’s Scrolls has been released! I gotta go!” He moved to run but stopped in his tracks before he got too far. “Do you wanna...watch more of that show tonight?”

“Sure, Levi,” you smiled, watching him sprint out of the room, a joyful spring in his step. Although, once everyone had left, you couldn’t help but lower your head, patting Asmo’s wrist. “You can leave too, Asmo, you don’t have to stay with me.”

He made an overly dramatic gasp. “But I do! Don’t sound so sad!” Pulling a bit away from you, he let his cheeks turn a bit pink. “And to be completely honest, I’ve been dying to get some alone time with you.” He squirmed a little bit, but then jumped to his feet. “So! You just sit there and let Nurse Asmo take care of everything, ‘kay ‘kay?” Is that why he had brought that large bag with him when he came in? It was a peach-colored tote bag, settled on your table, a fluffy pink pom-pom clipped to one of the handles. He bounded towards it, rummaging around, looking for something important.

A little--well a lot--guarded against potential Asmo intentions, you tried craning your head to see if you could look inside, but no dice. The end of your nose tickled again as it had the past few days. Grabbing another tissue from your bedside, you tried to blow your nose as quietly as possible. Your poor nostrils were so dry by this point it was bordering on painful. You sniffled, reaching over to squirt some hand sanitizer in your hands. “I thought you hated being around sick people,” you told him.

“You’re the only exception! Besides,” he grabbed out a familiar tool, one you had no idea how he got his hands on it. A stethoscope. “I want to use all these goodies Solomon got me!”

The name still almost sent a shudder down your spine. “Solomon? Why?”

Practically skipping back over, he sat beside you on the bed, strangely excited about this. “Aren’t bodies fascinating?” He touched his own skin, dragging his hand down his neck. “I love to know what makes this perfect body run! And you have absolutely no idea how desperately I’ve longed to know how yours does too!” Taking a good look at him, you could sense that he was truly and undeniably curious as to how your mortal body differed from his. Or possibly just craving a closer look into you altogether. Of course, you still had to close your eyes and deeply sigh. How many times would Solomon be the source of general chaos? Asmo took the end to the stethoscope, looking at it strangely. “Tell me, dear, how does this work?” You let out a light chuckle, and he looked at you curiously. “Don’t make fun of me, that’s just mean!”

“I’m not! I’m not, I promise, it’s just…” He resembled that of a little kid right now, a rare sort of innocence about him. Here he was, a demon of many millennia, and he just wanted to play doctor for a bit. “Never mind.” Brushing off your thoughts, you took the binaurals, putting the earpieces in his ears. One of his hands gently clutched the diaphragm, so you wrapped your own hand around his, guiding the end of the stethoscope to your chest.

Listening it to a moment, you could watch the gentle awe cross over his face. “T-that’s you.”

You brought a hand up to cover your mouth. “Yes, Asmo, that’s me. What, you didn’t think I had a heartbeat?”

“No, I knew! It’s just…” He closed his eyes, going silent. You didn’t want to disturb his moment, but you felt a sneeze coming on. Grabbing another tissue, you covered your nose, tilted your head down towards your lap, and sneezed. Moaning a bit, you blew your nose again, hard enough to make your ears pop. Sitting up, you chucked your used kleenex into the trash. You were about to apologize, but then the glee drained from Asmo’s face. He brought his hands up to his mouth and shrieked.

“What?! What’s wrong?!” As soon as you had asked, the answer presented itself towards you. Warmth dripped down your lips, forcing you to close your mouth as fast as you could.

“Blood! You’re bleeding! Hold on!” Lurching towards the tissues, Asmo pulled five out at a time, pressing it against your face. You pinched your nose, pressuring your hand against the bundle of kleenex. “Look at all this! No, no, no, no, you’ll be alright, darling.” Your gut instinct was to tilt your head up, but Asmo placed his hand on the top of your head, tilting it slightly forward. “Oh, don’t do that, you’ll end up swallowing it. Stay there, I’ll be right back.” He got up sprinting, leaving you alone with the smell and taste of blood. When he came back, he had a cold wet rag in his hands. “Here, use this instead. Give me those,” he softly ordered, tugging at the already blood soaked tissues. You took the rag in your hands, using that to stop the flow instead. He pulled you into his arms, rubbing your back. “Poor thing, it’s just non-stop problems for you right now, isn’t it?” You let him hold you, tilting your head against his as you waited for the blood to stop. Slowly, he brought his hand up to pet the back of your head, giggling a bit to himself when the action made you shiver.

After a bit of time, you tore away from him, cautiously removing the rag. You touched just above your lip, sighing in relief when it had stopped. “That was unexpected.”

Stealing the cloth from you, he started wiping the excess blood off your face. “About gave me a heart attack!” With his free hand, he cupped the side of your face.

A little idea crossed your mind. “Heart attack, huh? Better check that out.” Reaching for the stethoscope, you cleaned the earpieces before putting them in, pressing the small round medical disc to his chest. It was a bit stunning, you had to admit, how loud it sounded. In the human world before, any mentions of demons or angels were always in an ethereal sense. Whether you believed in them or not, you never really thought about them having hearts. Were they even similar to yours? At least...the drumming beating sound of life was the same.

He finished up cleaning you off, tilting his head and grinning. “Well?”

“Undeniably alive...and I’m very grateful for it.”

He squealed, flopping onto you, pushing you both down onto the bed. Every hint that he had been frightened before was gone. “Aren’t you just the sweetest?! Come here, you!” He littered kisses over your face, sending you into a little flurry of embarrassed titters.

“Asmo…”

“Isn’t it a human saying that they can kiss the pain away?” He pecked his lips over your eyelids. “Well, you better prepare yourself...I won’t stop kissing your perfect little face till you feel better!”

The bedroom door violently swung open, the handle nearly making a dent in the wall. Demons poured in, nearly falling over each other. They were all in demon forms, ready to tackle more danger. When they noticed that Asmo was fawning over you, they all puffed up, jealous and irritated. “We heard you scream and thought something happened!” Lucifer roared. Kinda late, weren’t they?

“Hey, why’re you getting all kissy with MC?!” Mammon jumped onto the mattress, trying to pry you from his brother’s arms.

“Don’t you think I deserve to be embracing them?” Satan attempted to push them both aside. Before you knew it, your room was a small war-arena, everyone climbing on the bed. You were squished between them, passed between different hands. Then something wobbled, the sound of wood and metal groaning before a loud snap pierced your ears. The bed hit the floor, a poof of dust causing you to cough. Your bedframe lay scattered in broken pieces across the ground.

“My...bed…” You ran a hand through your hair, pinned under the doggy-pile of demon lords. You looked between each of them with stern looks, each of them blushing in embarrassment over their actions. “Well...I guess it means I’ll be using someone else’s bed for the foreseeable future.”

All at once, their faces lit up, and at the same time they all shouted the same thing. “Me!”

#obey me #obey me headcanons #obey me imagines #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me levi #obey me satan #obey me asmo #obey me beel #obey me belphie #tw blood #tw medication #tw vomit

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yanderart · 4 years

Text

Once you found Shouto on the Anti-Purge forums, it felt so wonderful to be understood. So comforting to finally have someone you could rely on...

So, when you got a letter notifying you of your selection for the Annual Purge later on, of course you went to seek his help.

Should’ve known better than to trust strangers online, though.

My fic/portrait convo for the Yandere Purge Collab, from the Lovesick Discord. And please check the rest of the m. list for other amazing works set in the same AU!

Under the cut is the actual fic (Todoroki x Reader, nsfw, dark themes, 10k), as well as the respective TWs. Hope y'all enjoy 🥀

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Tws: Usual yandere ones (stalking, manipulation, delusion). Dub-con/Non-con. Non-consensual Drug Use, aka Aphrodisiacs. Death threats and sexism (from randoms on the forum, not Todo).

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You couldn’t think straight —hadn’t been able to since waking up again. All you could recognize amidst the fog currently obscuring your thoughts was the longing, prolonged, and tangible in its hold over your being.

You felt hot all over, the flames licking at your skin burning brightly as you squirmed from your place, eagerly attempting to get closer to the cold reprieve emanating from the man that held you.

“Tell me what’s wrong, Y/N." One of his hands was steering you on his lap, the other one gently massaging your shoulders in a comforting motion. “I can only help you if you do."

If your judgment had not been overcast by the desire pushing away your self-awareness, then perhaps you could’ve heard the faint hint of amusement in his voice. Perhaps you would’ve thought to look up and finally encounter the content shine of his heterochromatic eyes.

“I feel…" speaking was laborious, your tongue impossibly weighty and your mind swirling with thoughts that escaped any semblance of coherence. “I feel hot all over. It hurts.”

The hand positioned around your waist went to search for one of your clenched ones, easily engulfing it in his grip as he nudged the side of your face with his chin rather tenderly. A gentle encouragement for you to stay attentive, anchoring you to the moment despite your dazed mindset.

“Show me then,” his low timbre tickled your skin, sending another wave of excruciating heat to wreak havoc inside your body, “Let me know where it hurts.”

With a stuttering sigh, you proceeded to press both of your hands to your lower stomach, gulping audibly before bringing them further down. Dancing just short of your underwear while your eyelids fluttered shut.

You knew your actions were out of character deep down. Even recognized the shadow of wrongness that distorted the current scene. You weren't supposed to do such things, weren't supposed to feel like that…

But the reality was that you were so excruciatingly warm by that point, and his palm felt so deliciously cold.

When you heard the dreadful siren going off in the distance, the instantly recognizable sound of the Purge starting at last, you were already too far gone to think of anything else but the fingers brushing against the thin cotton of your panties, so close to the evidence of your need soaking through them.

Your parents had told you not to trust strangers online once upon a time. You should’ve really taken their advice more to heart.

。。。。。

But first, perhaps a little tracing of your steps is in order —some necessary context to fully understand the extension of your plight.

You see, earlier that day you had woken up full of a peculiar mix of drive and determination. It was indeed Purge Day, the single day of the year you had grown to fear the most ever since childhood, and yet for once you found yourself oddly relaxed, filled to the brim with resolve instead of your usual nerves.

Which was already an unexpected turn of events, considering you had just gotten a letter notifying you of your selection as one of the accursed Darlings of the Night.

A gentle reminder that, if caught, your life would stop belonging to yourself for an entire dreadful year.

Because a Yandere had their sight on you now, or so the notice had informed you in impeccable typography. Anxious fingertips memorized the slight raise of inked words, inspecting every single detail the letter carried.

You had imagined a monster ready to pounce just outside your door then, fitting enough to be the carrier of your bad news. A preternaturally grotesque being, built from all the Yandere themed horror stories you had heard throughout the years.

And yet there you were, feeling safer in that instant than you had in years; Because this time you had a plan. He made sure to give you one you could easily follow.

Just like he later made sure to welcome you in with a kind smile and awfully persistent hospitality.

"Would you like a cup of tea?"

You should've known better than to accept.

。。。。。

In the present, fingers were now dipping under the elastic of your panties, ghosting across feverish skin and encouraging your whimpers to grow louder.

"Is this what you want, then?" The man's breath tickled one of your ears, rough digits gathering your slickness with practiced ease. And he sounded genuinely concerned too, as if your discomfort was not a consequence of his own machinations. "Because I wanna ease your pain, baby. Give you what you truly need."

He barely even touched you yet you were already struggling not to crumble, the desire governing your mind mixing with the new sensations to create a new delirious kind of torment.

Continuing to tease you, the man was relentless in his torture, barely even brushing over your neediest spots. A gentle press of his palm to stimulate you for a moment before pulling back, much to your shameful frustration; Better than nothing, but not close enough.

In his own way, though, he was urging you to speak up. Expecting you to demand what you truly wanted.

Yet as a retort, all you could come up with was gasping out his name, dripping from your lips like honeyed prayers as your hips fought to buck up against his hand.

A sound you afterward repeated a hundred times over. Chanted until its melody became engraved on your tongue and the man was finally caving in, sliding his fingers inside with a smirk.

He had known you'd end up caving, had planned for it for months now, and yet nothing had prepared him for the actual view.

。。。。。

Shou, actually, had been his username when you first met him. Once upon a time recited with a genuine smile and an eagerness to please, such a far cry from the anguished whines it would later lead up to.

You started frequenting the forum he inhabited a few months back. A place which happened to be a hidden corner of the internet for people who did not just stumble upon it, but actually sought it out. A part of the web where its occupants challenged societal norms and, against what society had tried to condition you all into thinking, chose to voice their taboo Anti-Purge sentiments instead.

Sentiments perhaps born either due to the inherent discriminatory nature of the holiday (why was it that Yanderes were accommodated for, while Darlings barely got a warning before they were made prey?), a need for contrarianism (when opposing open kidnappings, assault and other debauchery became an act of rebellion), or just a tenuous moral high ground which made it unbearable to stomach. Whatever the reason, it was your first time encountering such a density of like-minded peers.

Despite attempting to commit yourself to being a lurker, deciding to never post or reply to others, your days had still quickly become consumed by the need to read each and every topic. You were simply fascinated with this new dark corner of the web.

That was, of course, until the aforementioned Shou became the main focus of your attention, a dash of intriguing brightness to break the monotony of your existence.

And like moths rushing to the flame, your curiosity would be your undoing.

There was something about him that pulled you in (along with many others from the community, which tended to flock on his posts whenever he grazed the forums). His username was clearly just a nickname instead of a carefully crafted pseudonym; profile picture just an image of the back of what you all assumed to be his hair, dual-toned strands catching the light in a hypnotic way.

Truly, his disregard for anonymity within those parts was a bigger statement than you were expecting, almost as commendable as it was dumbfounding. There was the nature of his postings too, never subtle about his inclinations or ideas.

How to disarm and reutilize Purge Traps.

Most effective ways to incapacitate a violent assailant.

Government lies and why they matter.

Faking a BOPC (breach of purge code) and getting away with it.

There was little method to the madness that was his forum activity, besides the hint that he was evidently more knowledgeable about the subject than most. Plus the fact that he was proactive about his advice, actually seeking to teach others to fight back instead of just hide away and hope for the best. For another self-proclaimed Darling, Shou was ruthless with his methods —it was hard not to admire him.

And admire you did, keeping tabs of his sporadic bursts of activity and speeding to try and interact with him whenever you caught him online. You were, to voice it simply, simply star-truck by him (and perhaps becoming a bit of a fangirl).

Because whoever Shou was, it felt like he understood you. And so, against every ounce of your common sense or natural paranoia, you had finally decided to break your golden rule and reach out for the first time since you joined the niche forum.

And not to just leave a vague comment agreeing on public discourse, but to actually send him a private message. In your defense, how were you supposed to know the chains of events your actions would start?

Do you actually believe what you post?, had been your lame conversation starter.

Luckily for you, he did not leave you hanging. You made sure to send the message while he was still active, one of the few days a week you knew he devoted to his presence on the site (and wasn't it slightly creepy, how you had taken the time to learn his schedule by that point?)

I wouldn't be here if I didn't, dry, to the point and leaving you embarrassed to have even sent the first question.

Yet for some reason, something about Shou reverted you back into a middle school kid seeking to impress a way cooler senior.

Perhaps it was what he symbolized (a change for the better), what he appeared to be (everything you wish you were) —whatever it was, your fingers were frantically typing a reply as soon as his appeared on your screen.

I just think it's amazingThe things you know

How you share them with everyone

The way you see through the lies

I just think you're— , your digits hovered over the keyboard as you were about to type out the last sentence before quickly deleting it. Even in your excitement, you knew how obsessed you'd sound if you started complimenting him personally in your very first conversation.

So instead you sent your thoughts on his posts and awaited his answer with bated breath. A few minutes ticked by this time, your anxiety making you count down the seconds in mortified silence, slowly weighted down by your doubts until your notifications for the forum were going off again with a distinct ping.

I've seen your replies around. I think you're great too.

Whatever your hang ups for praising him directly had been, he clearly did not harbor any. As the prongs of nervousness alleviated their hold over your body, you struggled to see any problems with it either…this was a person you had come to idolize, and they thought you were great?

Your smile, while still anxious, was considerable while you quickly responded.

I'm just a n00b. Learning from the pros.

A moment of thought, biting your bottom lip as you decided whether to add a second message or not. Fuck it, you told yourself.

I wasn't even supposed to be posting anything, but you made me wanna reach out.

Was that too forward? Oh god, it was, wasn't it? You must've sounded creepy, must've sounded desperate and…

That's cute. Did my ramblings teach you anything?

An actual squeal left you then, sounding like it came from an altogether different person. You were an adult, with a career and responsibilities… Yet somehow, this stranger online indirectly calling you cute made you more excited than you were comfortable admitting.

Ofc. I didn't even know what a BOPC was before. Didn't know most of the purge traps you mentioned, either.

The spaces between replies were getting smaller, the conversation turning fluent as you both seemed to be staring straight into the screen, waiting for the other to finish typing.

So you really are a n00b then.

Shit, did you fail some sort of forum etiquette by admitting that? Somehow, the need to impress Shou was more palpable than ever.

And you clearly know your stuff. Makes me wanna up my game.

Be more like you, you left unsaid.

So am I your senpai then?

Your fingers froze just above the keyboards, eyes scanning over Shou's last message and reverted back to staring at his profile pic for a solid minute. You would've squealed again, if you weren't so taken aback.

You make it sound like I am, his second message lit up your screen, coming in quickly after your rare pause in replies.

I don't think that's bad, though. Third message from him, and you were close to fainting now.

Then in that case I suppose you are. You wondered whether Shou wouldn't think you were pathetic admitting that, or whether he had been honest by saying he didn't mind...

I've also noticed you agreeing with some of my more polarizing views.

A welcomed change in topics.

You thought to ask him which ones (most of his posts tended to have a polarizing effect, with people finding him either too radicalized or not radicalized enough), but before you could formulate the question you saw the twinkling circles symbolizing he was typing up another sentence.

Do you actually believe them? And now it was his turn to spit your words back at you.

Well, yah. You make compelling arguments.

Color me impressed then, the start of his new retort left your mind spinning. Never met a n00b like you before.

After his declaration, you found yourself writing and rewriting your answer, hesitating on your word choice, and yet pure elation coursed through your veins.

He said he's impressed with me, your brain kept supplying on loop. You had no way of knowing just how much of a lasting impression you were leaving.

I don't wanna stay one tho. I'd like to jump a few levels. Improve.

Barely a moment's notice before his last message provoked a noticeable hitch in your breath.

I can help you with that.

Which, as short of a reply as it was, left you giddier than would’ve been healthier to admit.

Perhaps it could be chalked up to your work shifts growing more monotonous and tiresome, your social life becoming a faint echo of what it used to be, or just the regular wear and tear from a too-plain existence —a routine where you didn’t tend to engage with life, but just passively watched it go by.

Whatever the true reason was, that night you went to sleep with such a wide grin that the apples of your cheeks had started to hurt from the exertion, infinitely excited after getting to talk firsthand with someone you had already come to admire by that point.

It almost made you self-conscious, knowing just how much it all meant to you, how such a small gesture on his part happened to mean the world to you.

But there was really no reason to feel ashamed or overzealous over your own reaction. If you could’ve seen Shou, you would’ve known you weren’t the only one smiling.

。。。。。

Almost as open of a smile as the one adorning his features right now, currently hidden from your view as his fingers set a maddening pace. Tortuously slow at first until his knuckles started brushing against your opening with each thrust.

All you could hear now were the wet sounds of your arousal facilitating his movements, motions whose only purpose seemed to be to drive you more rambling and disoriented by the second.

"Is this what you want? What you need, perhaps?" His usually calm voice was uncharacteristically affected as he gasped against your ear, the torture he was making you endure clearly getting to him as well.

You were much too preoccupied with the waves of pleasure and warmth overflowing your body to give a proper response, but your lack of one did not deter him.

If anything, your needy gasps and whines were the only encouragement he required.

"Don't worry, Y/N. I'll take care of you, make you feel good."

By that point, the hand that had been petting your hair had found its way to your sopping heat too, calloused pads circling around your pearl while the man continued feeding you his eager promises.

"I get you, baby. Just like you get me." So close, your entire body taut and ready to snap. "And you want me to take care of you too, right?"

You weren't conscious enough to understand the implications, your impaired judgment prohibiting you from reading further into the meaning of his words. He sounded so encouraging, so deceivingly tender despite stuffing you full of his fingers as you squirmed on his lap.

All you could do was nod furiously.

And later on, when your senses sadly returned, dedicated yourself to lamenting over which of your actions brought you down this unfortunate path.

。。。。。

Perhaps, your consciousness supplied, it had been the fact that you opened up so readily. That you had dared to share with a supposed new friend, things that should’ve better stayed hidden in the first place.

But goddamn it, you felt downright honored that he even considered you worthy enough to entertain in the first place. From the very first second, Shouto already had the upper hand.

During the first few conversations, the topics you two discussed were all closely related to the purge and your mutual hang ups with it. Concise and carefully typed out messages were exchanged, discussing opinions you had never expected anyone to be interested in hearing—not from you, at least.

But then, as the weeks slowly progressed, the subjects of conversation began shifting to both of your lives, to your occupations, hobbies, and, directly against the forum's policy for privacy, the people you two were outside the confines of your online corner.

Even without actually exchanging any real data or supplying him with your name or age, you found yourself starting to open up more and more with each day.

You told him about your grueling office job, the friends you hadn’t seen or texted in weeks, and the reality of an apartment which more closely resembled a containment cell than a home…

Revelations that you had kept hidden for so long, which now came pouring out without regard for how mortified they made you feel. You were conscious of the limits blurring between you two the further you kept going, of how you were telling him things best left unsaid, cramped and buried in a hard to reach place.

And yet, for some obscure reason, everything Shou represented made it impossible for you to resist the temptation to speak up, to demand to be heard for the first time in an eternity of quietness.

You’re pathetic, is what you expected him to say in return. Pathetic, weak, meager, and worthless. Anticipating him, somehow, to echo all the doubts and deeply held fears you carried inside.

Most of my friends don’t understand either, was instead the response you received. But most people don’t see what's wrong, what needs to be changed. You feel lonely because you do.

It wasn’t clear what you would’ve wanted to hear beforehand, the things you had fantasized someone would reply if you ever gathered the courage to share your anxieties. Whatever those expectations had been an eternity ago, they now vastly paled when compared to what your new friend was dangling in front of you.

It felt like he was giving an excuse for things you had always perceived as personal failings. If what he said was true, it would mean it wasn’t your social ineptitude that kept people away, your uselessness, or uninteresting personality.

It would mean the shadows around you could still be dispelled somehow, exorcising the silhouettes of a suffering that had become a regular companion in your day to day life.

Brandishing a courage that only anonymity could give you, your fingers were a blur on your keyboard as you tried to ignore the rapid heartbeat in your chest, the fear, and exhilaration from opening up for the first time in forever.

Something you would later regret a thousand times over.

And you do too, and it wasn’t a question, a nervous comment or a stuttered retort. With the aid of the text format, you could look as confident as you knew you weren’t. You understand as well.

You understand me, was the tacit meaning behind it. The prickling of unshed tears made it so you were furiously blinking, fighting against the downpour despite your eyes refusing to leave the screen for longer than an instant.

I do. More than you realize.

For all intents and purposes, your first mistake was indeed opening up.

And your second one was being naive enough to let him in. Seriously, why hadn’t you heeded your parent’s advice about stranger danger?

。。。。。

...If they could only see you now, coming apart at the seams and with the name of your tormentor being the only word you were able to string together.

"Such a beauty, and all for me," his praises accompanied you through the rough orgasm ripping through your body, lips kissing your forehead in stark contrast to the digits still pumping inside your heat. "Let me hear your voice, baby. Let me hear how beautiful my name sounds on your lips."

And you obeyed, because what other choice did you have. Mindless, broken, and oh, so needy.

You continued to audibly moan as your climax unwound, crying out his name in absolute reverence while Shouto's smile deepened against your skin. The chill of his touch was still as soothing as ever, calming down the embers of a lust that refused to completely die down.

When he finally pulled his hands from your core, you felt excruciatingly empty. But you were not given enough time to wallow in your despair, because who you once considered your friend was then grasping your face gently between his hands, leading your gaze to meet his—forcing you to witness the intensity and adoration present there.

"My Y/N."

Even in your deeply intoxicated state, the last few dredges of your senses supplied just how utterly abhorrent the situation was.

The sirens signaling the start of the Purge had died down a while ago, drowned out by your own cries of pleasure, but you could still see the remnants of the government logo still plastered all over the TV, its bright glow bathing you both in an eerily scarlet ambiance.

From the same weak place of coherence, a shiver of fear managed to break through your stupor.

"You're going to continue to be a good girl for me, aren't you?"

When he kissed you then, slow and almost ironically hesitant despite what had just transpired moments before, you couldn't begin to tell your body to refuse. Much to your own horror, you were soon eagerly kissing your tormentor back.

。。。。。

The second mistake leading up to your downfall, on the other hand, took a little longer to occur. It was after a few more weeks of conversation. You vented and talked way too much, while Shou listened intently and even rewarded you with a few crumbs of advice of his own.

So wrapped up in your new seemingly innocuous friendship you were in, you failed to recognize the magnitude of an event that should've sent you scrambling to shut off your monitor. A warning so loud it would've put the Purge sirens themselves to shame.

You see, with Shou's help, you were slowly becoming more of an active user around those parts. You didn't just stick to replying to his posts or lurking until he shot you a private message anymore; no, you were now officially a contributor, deciding to step out of your anonymity to share what you thought was a fairly interesting article. It was a rather long-winded thinkpiece on the morality of Darlings’ treatment after the Purge had ended—the reality of that year spent in captivity that most people tended to just brush under the carpet, all in the name of making the entire ordeal more palatable to digest.

In all your eagerness, however, you had failed to realize a very crucial detail, which was that the article was a whole two days old. Already an ancient text by forum's standards, apparently.

So with that in mind, of course you should've expected the hate, an outpouring of bitterness fit for a community of loners and acidic underdogs. You were on an anonymous forum on one of the darkest parts of the internet, somewhere most sane people actively stayed away from—Clearly, a rookie unwittingly reposting something was the perfect target for a lot of your bitter comrades. An excuse to finally take out all of their pent up frustration.

Fuck1ng pleb, thanks for copy-pasting the same post for the 55th time.

This is why we shouldn't let newbies post. Look at this mess @mods.

Time to hang it up, n00b. And by “it”, I mean your f****** neck.

i bet ur a girl, [Username]. u type like a b1tch.

And the icing on the cake for internet interactions, a myriad of wall spamming "KYS" being plastered all across the comment section, bold and daunting as they filled your notification box with the repetitions of hate. If you weren't so sure of your safety behind your screen, perhaps you would've felt intimidated.

As it stood, you were just embarrassed, mortified at the fact that you had seemingly botched your only attempt at leaving a positive first impression. If anything, it only seemed you had given everyone a common enemy to pick on for once...

Or that was, at least, until Shou happened to log in at exactly that precise moment. You knew he was usually busy around that day and time (he never actually told you whether he had a job, but you had surmised as much from your past chats), so his instantly recognizable profile picture and username popping up had you genuinely gasping at first. It was one hell of a coincidence, but you couldn’t help but feel a sense of relief at what looked to be your savior.

Everyone, stop getting your panties in a twist. This is why no new users end up staying, the environment is abhorrent.

It was vague enough not to betray the fact that you two weren’t just strangers anymore, as well as keeping Shou’s reputation as a lone wolf from completely shattering.

And a comment which, surprisingly, instantly dulled most of the incoming messages your post was being flooded with.

People respected him there, his status as a renowned user giving him a genuine sort of power and hold over the rest of the community. One of the first things you had recognized on the forums was the distinct hierarchical structures amongst its users, and there Shou might’ve as well be granted the title of mayor for all the weight his every sentence carried.

Or at least they did with the majority of the community. As in every place where large numbers of people gathered, there were always a few rotten apples just begging to be tossed.

and ofc ur whiteknighting for her, Shou The Great. shes sucking ur dick under evry single post u make

You cringed, studying the bitter user that had decided to be a contrarian and easily recognizing him from unsavory past encounters you witnessed. Although, if you were completely honest, this time you couldn't exactly say his words didn't carry a certain degree of validity.

Shou had told you he was glad that was the case with you, that his post resonating with anyone was one of the main reasons why he hadn't just disappeared from the site completely. But in reality, saying you weren't subtle about your agreement with his ideas would be an understatement.

You were like a puppy skipping behind him, trailing his interactions and always ready to write an eager comment backing him up. Yet you had never thought others actually paid attention to your mostly one-sided interactions, the occasional meager downvote or emote being the only thing that made you aware your comments weren’t just lost in the sea of spam Shou’s posts were usually showered in.

For the longest time, your support had just felt like leaving letters for the man to find. Letters you hadn’t even been sure had reached their target until a few weeks back...

Suddenly, the sharp sound of Shou's incoming reply drove you from your tribulations.

Well, maybe if you weren't such a crude man you wouldn't be permabanned from starting topics yourself. Although I doubt anyone would be sucking your dick either way, shitty ideology considered. [Image attached]

A grimace was quick to grow on your face as you aptly studied the picture Shou decided to close his reply with.

It was a screenshot of what looked to be someone's post history, a rather extensive list with alarmingly offensive titles such as "Why male darlings should be spared", "The purge is a form of cuckoldry" and “Feminist agenda: female yanderes and their biological advantage [Repost]". Almost all of them exhibited a tragic downvote ratio right as well, besides the red symbol signaling the posts had been archived by senior users or mods.

For someone who also loathed the terrible holiday, it was almost admirable how the man managed to be almost as detestable as the criminals you all rallied against.

But even so, what disturbed you the most wasn't the clear bigotry of the user, but the fact that that screenshot couldn't have been taken from public records. A user's post history was hidden, just another measure on the site’s part to keep people from recognizing too many details about each other and possibly endangering themselves.

No, it could only have been taken from inside the account. And judging from the other guy's quick reaction, you weren't the only one who came to that realization.

how the fck did u get that

I knew u were friends with the mods. fcking rats

By that point, everyone else had stopped clogging the comments and, you assumed, instead opted to settle down and attentively observe the events transpiring. Apart from the emote reactions and the rapidly rising number of upvotes on Shou’s comments, you had all become a passive audience to the public ridicule.

Although you couldn’t help feeling slightly disjointed by Shou’s behavior. Below your wicked sense of pride at having him defend you, there was still the whispers of your gut telling you the man was going a little too far, his actions spelling a more sinister meaning than just “having a friend’s back”.

You've been here for years, Minoru. Surprised you haven't yet noticed how much of a pest everyone sees you as.

Minoru? You did a double-take, going back to read the username of the guy Shou was arguing with. But he just had a randomly generated number as a pseudonym, same as you and most others, and with just a picture of some anime sneezing girl to distinguish his profile from the rest. No trails or signs of what could Shouto be referencing to.

Nothing but an option you preferred not to consider. But it couldn't be, could it? your friend wouldn’t...

fucking delete that right now, man.

this isn't a joke, DELETE THAT.

Only that the abrasive and desperate reaction told you everything you needed to know. Your heart was beating rapidly in your chest, shock mixing with equal parts horror and amazement you couldn’t even begin to try and disentangle. Because right that second, you were witnessing your friend breaking the forum’s number one rule with a front-row seat to the spectacle.

And he was doing it all in your name.

Then maybe think twice before you go out of your way to harass newbies. Or have you had too much time on your hands after being fired, is that it?

It was vague enough not to represent any kind of threat... if not for the context of the site. And yet you all knew the hidden message behind it, the warning for whoever Minoru was to understand Shou knew much more than what he was letting on. That he could expose much more than he was currently alluding to.

y are u even doing this, shou? y do u care wtf happens to this noobslut anyways?

Shou's reply took barely a moment to appear, lighting up your screen and, despite the slightly morbid nature of his protection, coaxing out a smile to adorn your lips. It was like a balm being applied to your worries, quieting down most of your incipient concerns in favor of rejoicing.

They're a friend.

For fuck’s sake, you even screenshotted that for posterity. Somehow, him acknowledging the new bond you two had openly felt like a milestone.

When a mod came in to archive the post and give everyone involved a stern warning later on, you were already way past your previous doubtful sentiments.

Instead, the last thing you did before going to sleep that day was to open up your private conversation with Shou and send a quick yet heartfelt message of gratitude his way.

Months prior, you wouldn’t have ever thought you’d be thanking anyone for semi doxxing another human being. How rapidly things were changing, though, and all while you got lost in the thrill of mattering.

Thanks for sticking up for me. It meant a lot, you typed feeling slightly lightheaded, drunk on the idea that anyone would think you worthy of having your back.

You thought Shou went offline after dishing out his not so thinly veiled threats, but somehow he was back again in an instant, the sound of notifications going off shaking any remnants of your exhaustion.

Anything for you, [Y/N].

You were so tired, it didn't occur to you that you hadn't yet shared your real name with your friend either.

That night, for once, you fell asleep with a twinkle in your eye and the image of Shou's multicolored locks dancing against your eyelids. Imagining, ever so briefly, your fingers trailing down the back of a neck you now had memorized from analyzing his profile picture.

And, while you slept with your phone clutched to your side, you also failed to notice the peculiar sound of your own camera going off, the soft glow from the red light beside your lense bathing your features in its subtle illumination, flickering against your eyelashes and the lingering grin on your curved lips.

You truly looked angelic like that.

Suffice it to say, Minoru never bothered you again after that day. In fact, his name disappeared from the site not too soon after.

。。。。。

But now, to continue the grueling task of giving a context for your inevitable end, it is necessary to jump a month further into the future, barely a week from the excruciating present.

Because it was then that the last strike finished nailing the coffin of your proverbial undoing, burying you under the weight of your own ignorance.

You got your notice in the mail on the Day of Announcements, an inconspicuous letter lacking any further distinction beyond a scarlet government seal emblazoned across its front. But even before you opened and read the message, you already knew of its contents—easily recognizing the image before you from several of the varied posts you had seen floating around on the forums lately.

Purge Notice!!! Help needed Urgently.

Just got my letter. Do I stay hidden or fight back? [Open poll]

Third time getting mine. AMA about my methods.

The range of how you had seen other users reacting to their own selections was diverse, with some of them being more experienced while others, such as you, had just gotten their first letter ever. If things played out differently for you, then you were sure you would've been another one of the numerous panicked voices, awkwardly trying to maneuver their way out of their new situation.

And maybe, then, your odds wouldn't have been so completely fucked from the start.

As it stood, as soon as you laid eyes on the notice, the first thing you thought of was how quickly you could boot up your computer and open the forum’s private messages. Because, for the first time in forever, you were overwhelmed by the feeling of someone else being there for you.

Shou was your friend, had earned that spot fair and square after months of listening to you venting and sharing deep discussions; faster than you could even realize it, and so it was only natural for you to seek his help once the news of your selection for the new yearly Purge reached you.

He had even threatened another user for your sake, for fuck’s sake. So, really, what harm could come out of relying on someone you were sure was trustworthy?

Maybe it was too late by that point for you to snap out of it, but it was almost amusing seeing you being so easily deceived.

Just another reason why you needed him, certainly.

。。。。。

Already told you I'd have your back, had been his immediate reply barely an instant after you attached a candid photo of your hand holding up the envelope. Whatever you need, I’m here.

His lack of hesitation was palpable through your screen, heart hammering in your chest as you were faced with a kindness you had thought yourself undeserving of not long ago.

As soon as you closed your mailbox, you had immediately raced to send him the message, completely foregoing telling any of your other friends or family members when you doubted they would even understand you in the first place. Shou had been right when he told you people just didn’t want to see the truth, even if it slapped them right in the face, leaving dark imprints in the shape of their narrow mindedness.

But he was there, he was letting you know as much, in his own words. And for what felt like the hundredth time in the past few months, you felt incredibly lucky to have stumbled upon the Forums in the first place, to have traced whatever fortunate path had led you to find him—the one person able to distinguish you in a world you always thought you blended straight into.

Thank you, Shou, for everything. And at that moment, you really had been truthful, so much so that there were tears prickling at your eyes, an overwhelming feeling of gratitude drowning you with its intensity.

Indeed, your final mistake had been your desperate need for acceptance. A need that had, in the end, cost you everything.

You can call me Shouto now. No use for nicknames anymore.

Amidst the chaos of your life possibly crashing down all around you, somehow his revelation put a trembling smile back in your face.

Then allow me to repeat: thank you, Shouto.

Np, Newbie. Told you I'd help you level up, didn't I?

His teasing managed to garner a small stuttering laugh out of you despite the dreadfulness of your situation.

But you couldn’t help it. Somehow, every reply Shouto sent you only served to wrap the illusion of safety tighter around you. So tight in fact, that you should’ve started worrying about suffocating.

。。。。。

On the other side of the screen, the man with the multicolored hair couldn’t help but keep staring at the picture you had sent him earlier.

He was transfixed, eyes almost unblinking as they refused to separate from the image. The way your fingers tentatively held the letter up for the picture was simply adorable to him. Beautifully naive.

It wasn't like he hadn't seen your face before, like he hadn't already memorized the texture of your skin and the everlasting trace of a frown always threatening to dampen your mood. He read your expressions like poetry, every mole and scar furthering the securing of his interest.

But this was the first picture you had actually chosen to send him out of your own volition, the final symbol of a trust he had worked so tirelessly to earn. Used to catching prey as he was, the man wasn’t entirely sure when you had turned from a game into a priority, from a priority into the only thing he could even make himself care for.

And it didn’t help that it was his letter you were holding, too. His formal declaration of pursuit.

With time, Shouto was sure you would find it in yourself to appreciate the beauty of such irony.

But, for now, what he really needed to do was buy some tea. Couldn’t have your own stubbornness ruining your first encounter, could he?

。。。。。

In the coming weeks, your friend aided you and even coached you as you jointly planned for the horrific holiday, not only suggesting ideas but tracing the safety measures needed for them to succeed. You really had no reason to doubt him by that point.

That evening, after you finished letting Shouto know you were back from work, you made sure to pack all of your supplies into an inconspicuous bag you had acquired for the occasion. Whoever your Yandere was, it was best to not give any hints of your new acquisitions, just in case they were already stalking your movements.

Shouto had helped you devise the list, mentoring you in your selection of weapons as well as self-defense arsenal—what brands of pepper spray to get, which ammunitions were most efficient and reliable, even what kind of clothing was the least troublesome if the need to escape ever arose. If you had been sure he knew his craft before, now you were surprised at just how vast his wisdom genuinely was.

After the last few finishing touches of preparations, you were already on your way to the direction you had both agreed on (supplied by him, approved by you). There were several hours until the start of the Purge still, but the adrenaline swimming through your bloodstream was already considerable.

Shouto had suggested you visited him for the Holiday, quoting how the measures in place for his home made it nothing short of a fortified vault, impossible for any outsiders to break into (and for anyone to break out of, but let's not get ahead of ourselves).

With that in mind, how could you have refused his offer? Your place was barely an excuse for an apartment, windows that didn't entirely close, and feeble doors that could be easily broken into. Even if you weren't partly driven by the curiosity of meeting your new internet idol turned friend, it would've been foolish to decline.

So in a few hours, you were sporting a nervous smile on your face as you parked your car in front of the largest apartment complex you had ever encountered. It was luxurious in a way you had only seen staring back at you from a television screen, marble, and gold accents giving you the impression you were about to step into a drama set instead of visiting an online friend.

Before the surrealism of the entire situation could begin to set in, however, you noticed the young man sitting on the ample stairs of the building. He had an air of effortless elegance, tall and lithe, yet sporting a black turtleneck which hugged his frame and made it clear just how much sheer strength hid behind his movements.

And he also sported the same peculiarly colored locks you had already memorized from the last few months, the light softly reflecting on them proving to be an even more impressive show when admired live.

You were dazzled for an instant, wondering if, somehow, this entire thing was a prank and the Shou from the forums had just schemed his way into making a fool out of you in front of a handsome stranger. Way too convoluted, yet entirely too plausible to your bewildered self.

Until the man lifted his eyes—as beautifully dual-toned as his hair, and catching sight of you standing just beside your recently parked vehicle.

"Y/N," he was sharply climbing to his feet as he called out your name, the shy hint of a smile in his lip contradicting the monotone cadence of his tone. "Good to finally meet you."

You had first been under the impression that the Shou you knew was cold, the way he interacted with others on the site reminding you of an emotionless robot at times, but the man addressing you seemed like he was ripped straight out of a stereotypical rom-com.

Maybe he'd be the aloof, tormented heir? Which, in your fantasy drama land, would make you the nearly illiterate and poor love interest. Your feelings of inadequacy only grew at the comparison.

Almost cute, how that had been one of your greatest worries once upon a time. How foolishly eager you were to be liked back then.

"Shouto." The name still felt somewhat strange on your lips, even after he had insisted you started calling him that. "It's good to meet you, too."

He was by your side in an instant, taking your bags from you swiftly and shutting the door to your ride. From this up close, it became considerably harder to disguise your staring.

Even the scar which covered his left eye, a splash of reddish textured skin, somehow came across like yet another enhancer of his appeal. An underlying harshness which you couldn't help but be intrigued by.

"Your hair looks even better in person."

And leave it to you to once again find a way to screw first impressions. You were chastising yourself a mere second after the words left your mouth.

But Shouto only sent you that same hint of a smirk your way, his eyes appearing genuinely pleased at your praise. If he thought you were a weirdo and was regretting ever inviting you to his house, then he was a good enough actor for you to be fooled.

And fooled you he did, but with completely different intentions.

"You look just like in your pictures," came his serene retort not long after.

Which you assumed was a joke, keeping in mind that the only photo you had ever sent his way had been of the Purge letter you received a few days ago.

Laughing lightly, you tried to ignore the nerves tugging at your chest before catching up with him on the steps of the building.

As you giddily barged straight into the open jaws of the beast, it once again struck Shouto how utterly unsuspecting you were. How you trusted him so wholeheartedly.

He couldn't wait to see it all come crashing down.

。。。。。

Inside his honest to god penthouse, your previous feeling of insufficiency only became more severe.

The interiors were decorated sparingly, albeit fashionably. Filled with different muted shades and being unexpectedly traditional in the way they were designed. It was a stunning abode, even if you couldn't help but mentally point out how utterly unlived in it appeared.

There was not a single cup, shoe, or book out of place, everything perfectly polished and organized to the point that you felt hesitance as your sock-covered feet continued making their way through the place.

"Make yourself at home," Shouto told you most matter-of-factly. If you weren't so sure of his intentions by now, perhaps you would've thought he was being sarcastic.

Without any of your belongings to distract yourself with, you instead gravitated towards what you could see of the kitchen through one of the sliding doors.

It was very modern despite the rest of the aesthetic the penthouse sported, shiny stainless steel and spotless dark countertops. It should've looked out of place when paired with the carpeted floors, wooden furniture, and sparse pieces of classical Japanese art…

Yet somehow, it strangely fits. Just like his owner, you supposed, thinking back to the oddities that amounted to his unique brand of appeal.

And you really needed to stop thinking of your friend like that.

When you heard the door to the apartment being audibly locked with a resounding click, you instantly stopped your fingers grazing the smooth countertops. Your instincts flared up with worry for a moment, right before you forcefully willed yourself to calm down.

After reminding yourself of the true reason why you were there, the exhale you released next was one of clear relief.

"Want something to drink?" Shouto appeared in your line of sight again, hands buried in the pockets of his pants and looking like the picture of composure.

You felt embarrassed once again, knowing he had given you a free pass to roam but still somewhat self-conscious about intruding on his space.

"You don't need to make me anything. I'm fine." Your timbre was apologetic, not used to slipping into the role of a guest just yet.

He seemed strangely dissatisfied with your answer, closing some of the distance between you with a presence that had you almost flinching back for a second.

There was an intensity in his gaze, something which you could not quite yet place.

"But I want to be a good host. So let me." He appeared very serious about it, too, with his face growing stern as his peculiar eyes bore into yours.

Not wanting to cause further distress, you imagined relenting would be the best course of action.

It was like you were molded to be the perfect Darling, so wonderfully meek and gullible.

"Okay then. Water is fine."

Yet Shouto shook his head, still somewhat dissatisfied with your answer.

"Tea it is." His phrasing allowed little space for argument. "I know you mentioned liking a few brands before, so I took the liberty of stocking up on them."

A surprising burst of laughter broke through your anxious feelings then, drawing Shouto's eyes again from the particular cabinet they had drifted to as he mentioned the beverages.

He looked at you puzzled, an unasked question written all over his otherwise blank expression, and so you decided to reply from the surge of unexpected amusement you were experiencing.

"It's only a night, Shou," you didn't even realize you had slipped back into his nickname, too entertained by how much he had apparently overdone his hospitality. "There really wasn't any need for you to go buy my favorite teas."

His eyes blinked quite slowly your way, his expression back to his vacant mask before a smile reappeared.

"I wanted you to feel welcomed," he supplied as he approached the cabinet he was eyeing before, dedicating himself to searching for whatever kind of flavor of tea he had in mind.

In response, you just shrugged your shoulders with another chuckle.

"And I didn't get you anything. You're making me feel even more out of place."

"Nonsense," he cut you off in that deadpan way of his, hands rummaging through the most ridiculously vast tea collection you had ever seen. And then he added, decidedly quieter, "today is supposed to be about you, after all."

Too bad you didn't pick up on it.

When he ushered you back to the salon with barely a wave next, pointing at one of the cushions arranged around the short-legged table, you decided to follow his suggestion and wait there while he finished brewing the drinks. By now, you understood the futility of offering any kind of help when he was still so intent on properly welcoming you.

So, curious as you were, your eyes continued to inspect each and every inch of the apartment, drinking up all the pieces of info you could observe, that you didn't even think of the potential dangers of letting a stranger fix you a cup while you weren't looking.

Unbeknownst to the other, you were both actively counting down the seconds until the Purge started, minds lost to your own inner turmoils from opposite sides of the suite.

And for entirely different reasons, you were both filled with anticipation.

。。。。。

Meanwhile, finally back in the present after retracing the steps that guided you there, it was becoming increasingly hard to compartmentalize the chaos brewing inside you.

Shouto’s lips were the personification of hunger against yours, an inescapable gluttony to mark and consume every single inch of you he could encompass.

After a hint of understanding returned to your body post-orgasm, your vision and the sensations you endured were becoming disturbingly vivid. It was impossible to conceive anything beyond his hands ridding you of your flimsy camisole, palms cold in comparison to the heat you felt, splaying against your sides and slowly making their way up the sensitive mounds of your chest.

“All mine, baby.” You barely registered his teeth nipping at your bottom lip until a shock of pain snapped you out of your trance.

He bit you, and quite harshly too, but when you tried to instinctually pull back his response was to hold you even tighter. Before you could attempt to voice your complaints, his tongue was darting out to clean up the droplets of blood he spilled.

“Out of all the Darlings I’ve played with, you’re the only one I’ve ever even considered keeping, you know?”

And now that had you freezing, even amidst the cloud of desire still muddling your cognizance. His arms pressed you closer still, forcing you to bury your face against his chest, completely unphased by the bloody mess your mouth had morphed into.

Had he tricked others before then? Was that the reason why he was even on the Forums in the first place?

You wanted to ask him what he meant, wanted to demand explanations for a phrase that had dread closing around your neck like a noose. But whatever he slipped into your drink to keep you so awfully responsive and pliable, also appeared to make forming any complex sentences incredibly hard…

Shou, ever the receptive one, caught onto your change in demeanor rather aptly. His face nuzzled your hair softly, humming a calming melody as if you were a scared child who could be so easily reassured. Meanwhile, his hands hadn’t abandoned your breasts, still tenderly kneading them with a touch bordering on worship.

“But I’m glad you weren’t my first, baby. Means I could be all ready for when we met.” He rocked you both as he rested his back further on the sofa, opening his legs wider below you and forcing you to settle closer to his clothed groin with a whimper.

Your arms reached out to grasp his shoulders while you tried to stabilize yourself, the strain of his erection resting snuggly against your still sensitive slit.

"Helped me to know when to pull back," he kept confessing, purposefully thrusting into you while he kept lovingly massaging your chest, fingers twisting your hardened peaks to coax a new kind of mewl to be uttered against his skin. "Wouldn't want you to break now that I've finally found you."

The fact that your bodies seemed to fit so perfectly, even in your impaired state, was not an irony lost on you.

Abruptly, Shouto stopped fondling your breasts in order to maneuver your face again, both of your stares meeting in a vehement standoff before he continued.

“I’ll make this as close to perfection as I can, I promise you.” And you got a direct view of the vulnerability in his uniquely colored eyes, the nature of his words clearly heartfelt despite the atrocities they alluded to.

As you heard him drag his zipper down, the hand clutching your jaw trembling in anticipation, you couldn’t help the new wave of warmth spreading through your body, negating all the fear and anxiousness warring inside you in order to shamefully expose your baser desires.

Now that whatever had been clouding your judgment was pulling back slightly, your thought process had begun to snap back into place, overflowing you with a terrible sense of shame at your own reactions.

He gave you something earlier with your drink, you were sure of it, and yet you couldn’t help but still be horrified at just how much you were enjoying it. Once you felt the flushed head of his cock placidly rubbing against your thigh, the sounds leaving your mouth weren’t ones of complaint, peril or dissent.

Quite the contrary, actually, and it only made Shouto grow bolder.

As the hand clutching your face grew tenser, gripping you with force before tugging harshly, you got the hint. Now painfully following his lead, it wasn't long before the previous pressure against your legs was now resting directly against your cunt.

The pre-cum already gathered on him mixed in with your still oozing arousal, smearing the span of your outer lips as he lightly teased you one last time.

You were so mortified by that point, that if he had offered to end your embarrassment right then and there with one of the several weapons you knew he kept, you would’ve been very inclined to accept.

“... I didn’t even think there was such a thing as 'The One' before, actually.” You hadn’t even realized the man was still talking, ardent whispers getting lost on the intensity of the situation.

His eyes were searching your face, a satisfied twinkle lighting them up as soon as you returned his stare of your very own volition. Perturbed, you wondered if his delusion made him see anything beyond a twisted mix of lust and fear reflected back at him.

“But I now know just how wrong I was, Y/N.” So sure of himself, tone back to the stern cadence you previously associated with him for a moment, gripped by a gravity befitting of his obsession. “Indeed, I think you were always meant to be my darling… don't you agree?”

To your credit, you did struggle to speak up, to gain back the control over a body which had stopped listening long ago. Too bad you only managed a single pitiful word out.

“Shouto…”

But before you could even fathom attempting a better response, he was breaching into you, sheathing himself with an ease you wished you could overlook, turning your voice from an anguished plea into outrageously labored moans.

You had once thought Shou had been interested in you because he somehow perceived you as anything but pathetic, but you were beginning to think it had been your weakness which drew him in all along.

So deliciously frail, that even a predator like him had been driven with an urgent need to protect you. To break you down, just so he could be the one to build you back together.

As he started fucking you with shallow thrusts, hips bucking up from the sofa while he tenderly guided you until your body was mimicked his motion on its own, you couldn’t help but be the most disturbed at his oddly affectionate ways.

As awful as it sounded, now that your mind had awakened from its stupor all you wanted was for him to bend you over and abuse you, manhandle you and mistreat you in a way which unequivocally screamed assault. You wanted bruises painting your skin, proof that you hadn’t just willingly given up and facilitated your own ruin.

He was humiliating you despite the pretty words he decided to disguise it as—showing you how easily he could own you and even make you enjoy it, drug-addled drink or not.

But as his mouth latched around one of your hardened nipples, sucking generously until his name was once again fast on your tongue, you also couldn’t deny the crystal clear responses you were giving.

You could attempt to lie to yourself later, could swear it was all a delusion born out of the deranged man's mind, but the particular brand of your screams was unmistakable.

When your own hand reached down to facilitate your release, you knew you were already acting beyond what you could've previously attributed to the drugs. Toying with your bundle of nerves, you rested your forehead against Shouto's shoulders, tears from the pleasure mixing in with the subjacent agony of your guilt.

Why did it have to feel so good? And how far did the drugs truly affect you? Or had they just peeled back your inhibitions perhaps, baring you until all you had were dark desires and no self-control to contain them.

You still tasted blood inside your mouth when your walls started clenching around his cock, the coppery flavor entirely too vivid on your tongue. Hearing his own choked groans gasping against your chest, you felt his mouth abandoning your bud with a pop before his kisses were trailing a path back up—eager in their search of your face, your lips.

You were still cumming by the time a lascivious kiss connected you two again, unwinding in his grasp until his hands were the only thing keeping you whole.

“Even if I wasn't taught how,” he began promising while his rhythm grew frantic, barely resisting the allure of your core fluttering around him. “I promise I’ll love you, Y/N. Love you so good, you won’t ever want to leave when the next Purge comes.” He was getting increasingly excited by his own words, imagining a future where you did not need the aid of a little cup of tea to eagerly kiss back. “I’ll fuck you every day, fill you up and show you just how much I care. How much you matter.”

Faced with his degenerate promises, all you could do was gasp out his name one last time, perhaps seeking to express your reticence, perhaps oddly excited by the image he was painting.

You indulged him in the pitiful sound of your whimpers molding around its syllables, and it wasn’t long before you were coaxing him to join you with an orgasm of his own.

He actually came inside, you recognized inwardly after the aftershocks of enjoyment now quieted down to a lull, a new type of dread quickly following the realization. His cum was still shooting in hot ropes, stuffing you to the brim with the intent and purpose of a man bent on marking you, owning you.

But Shouto was so loving as he kissed you time and time again, painfully reminding you of just how nice he could be for you, how gentle and attentive. It made the lines between your tormentor and a traditional lover blur even further, the confusion clouding your sense not merely born out of narcotics any longer.

You had been so preoccupied with a monster outside your house once. A creature ripped from the kind of movies that were ripe with cheap scares and considerably cheaper thrills.

But monsters never were like that in real life, were they? As the man continued to cradle you in his arms like the most vulnerable of creatures, you were suddenly struck by how glaringly obvious things should’ve been from the beginning.

Because your Yandere’s obsession had not come with claws and a row of sharp teeth. No, it came instead with a suit of deception to hug its frame, the bait of acceptance, and the promise of a reliable ear to comfortably listen. It arrived with whispers that assured you that you were not alone, that it was not you who was flawed, but the world for not welcoming you.

It dangled everything your little heart desired, so by the time you were reaching out, you were simply too distracted to notice the dangers of the abyss you were throwing yourself at.

Luckily for you, Shouto had made such a void his home. And for however long it took you to consider the darkness as your own, his was a kind of hospitality that no amount of your struggles could ever hope to wear down.

And if the worst came to pass, if you kept stubbornly refusing and fighting despite your odds? Well…

He could always brew you another cup of tea.

-------

Well, I can finally rest now 💀

This monster of a one-shot took me a lot longer than expected, so I ended up being a lil later to the collab that I would’ve liked. Either way, I’d really appreciate hearing any feedback or opinions on either the fic or art (or both?)... I swear that’s what keeps me motivated ;___;

So fr, thanks to everyone who takes the time to let me know your takes! y’all are the bests of the best 🖤 And speaking of bests of best, special thanks and gratitude to the actual angels who helped and gave me feedback for both the art and/or fic @reinawritesbnha , @drxwsyni, @wootato, @snappysnapo and @coyambition. Don’t catch me seeing y’all drop your crowns bc it’s on sight 😠 👑

#bnha fanart #todoroki #yandere todoroki #todoroki x reader #bnha imagines #bnha #mha fanart #bnha x reader #todoroki fanart #todoroki smut #todoroki shouto #todoroki shoto #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #anime fanart #bnha smut #bnha art #artists on tumblr #just art tingz

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gretavanfanfic · 4 years

Text

Room 419

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x (F) Reader

Word Count: 7200ish

Warnings: Smut! 18+ only

Summary: You and Jake are tricked into sharing a hotel room by your friends following their wedding.

Being a maid of honor in a wedding is no small feat. While you were flattered that your best friend had asked you to stand next to her on her big day, you quickly found out that it is a demanding and expensive role, and it has left you feeling overwhelmed more than a few times over the past couple months. Therefore, when she and her then-fiancé told you that they would book your hotel room for the night of the wedding, you were more than happy to let them take that responsibility out of your hands. It would be one less thing to worry about on a sure to be hectic day.

Maybe this was your mistake, but you were fully expecting them to book you your own room. Or if not your own room, you figured they may have paired you with one of the other bridesmaids. You’re not particularly close with any of them, but you would be fine for one night.

What you were not anticipating was having to share a room with the best man.

So when the reception comes to an end and you insert your key into the card reader for room 419, ready to shower off the day and crawl into bed, you're shocked to see that a body is already occupying the mattress. More specifically, Jake Kiszka’s body.

His brown shoes have been kicked off near the door and he’s still clothed in his navy dress pants, but his white shirt is fully unbuttoned, exposing his tan chest as he lounges on top of the plush comforter with his phone in his hand. His head pops up when he hears you enter, and while he looks surprised at first, a smirk quickly forms on his lips.

Now, you know Jake fairly well, but you wouldn’t say that you consider him a friend. Acquaintance is probably a better word. Your best friend and her new husband have been trying to set the two of you up for years now, and while you had gone on one date with him in the past, it never amounted to anything. He was very obviously only interested in casual sex, which he offered up multiple times on your date, and he was a bit cocky for your tastes. And while you can’t deny that you were very attracted to him and very tempted by his offer, you were looking for something more serious, so you declined his advances and the two of you never went out again. Since then, you’ve heard plenty about Jake’s various conquests with all sorts of beautiful women, and so you’re not upset with your decision to let it be a one and done sort of deal.

Still, your friends haven’t let up on their quest to get you and Jake together, claiming that your compatibility is off the charts. Every time you hang out with them and Jake is there, they make remarks about how perfect you are for each other, which you always try to brush off. Jake, however, has fun feeding into their delusion and will frequently make flirty comments to you, ranging from, “Come on, Y/N! Give the people what they want! You heard them, we’re perfect for each other!” to, “You know you want a piece of this, babe. There’s no need to fight it!” You try not to make it obvious that his little jests usually leave you a bit flustered, but he seems to always pick up on your embarrassment anyway. Sometimes it even seems like he’s...proud of the fact that he can so easily ruffle your feathers.

“Well, well, well. Y/N,” Jake says arrogantly from his spot on YOUR bed. “I’m glad to see you’re finally ready to admit that you want me. I have to say though, this is a bit unexpected.”

You give him a small, humorless laugh, but your unease is clear as you question in a somewhat shrill voice, “What are you doing in my room?”

Jake’s smirk turns into a full blown grin as he answers, “Actually, this is my room. Got the key and room number directly from the front desk. You can check if you want.” He points to the key card lying on the dresser so that you can look for yourself.

Wasting no time, you let out a small huff and march over to grab the card that’s still in its paper pocket on the wood surface. Sure enough, the number on it matches the number on yours.

Annoyed at the fact that you now have to pay the front desk a visit before you can crawl into YOUR bed, you frown at Jake’s smug face and stomp out the door and onto the elevator to return to the lobby.

After waiting in line for 10 minutes behind a couple who was checking in, you approach the desk at last and are greeted by a friendly looking young woman who asks, “Good evening, how can I help you?”

Plastering a fake smile on your face, you reply, “Hi, I think I was given the wrong room number. When I went inside just now, there was already someone in there.”

The woman immediately apologizes. “I’m so sorry about that ma’am. Let’s try to get that straightened out. What’s your name?”

You give her your information and watch as she types it on the keyboard, then clicks around on their computer system.

“Okay, I see we have you in room 419. Is that what you were told before?” she inquires.

“Yes,” you respond. “It looks like someone must have made a mistake with the other guest then, because he is insisting to me that 419 is his room.”

She clicks around some more and then states, “Well it looks like your reservation is for two adults. You and a Mr. Jacob Kiszka. We have a note here saying that you would be checking in separately.”

It’s at this moment that your blood begins to boil. In your head, you curse your best friend and her new husband, knowing that they are to blame for your current predicament. Even though they had pulled a few tricks in the past to try to get you and Jake together, you genuinely never would have expected them to go this far to couple you up.

It’s not that you have any particularly negative feelings toward Jake. More than anything, you’re upset that your friends have so blatantly disregarded your multiple refusals to go out with him. You know that they fully believe that they have your best interest in mind, but it still bothers you that they think they know what you need better than you do.

It would be one thing if the room had two beds, but, of course, they purposefully booked one that only has a single king-sized bed. You feel your skin itching with nervousness at just the thought of sharing a bed with a flirt like Jake.

Exasperated, you tell the front desk worker, “That’s not going to work for me. Can you get me booked in another room, please?”

The pleasant woman moves the mouse around some more, and then a frown appears on her face. “I’m so sorry, ma’am, we don’t have any more rooms available tonight. Is there anything else I can do to make yours and Mr. Kiszka’s stay with us more comfortable?”

Blowing out an aggravated breath, you give her a tight-lipped smile and sigh, “No, thank you for your help.”

You hear her wish you a good night as you walk away, defeated. It’s one night, you tell yourself. It will be fine.

When you re-enter room 419, Jake is exactly as you left him, lying on his back, phone in hand. Without looking up he concludes, “So they pulled a fast one on us, eh?” His voice is neutral, not giving away how he feels about the situation at all.

Dropping your bag on the table in the corner of the room, you gripe, “Ugh, yes. I really should have known better than to take them up on their offer. They’re pretty relentless, huh?”

“You’re not kidding,” he agrees. “I might be pissed if they were trying to set me up with any of the other bridesmaids, but I can tolerate you I suppose.”

You give him a dry laugh in response and sit down to rid yourself of the uncomfortable high heels that you’ve been wearing for far too long. Your feet ache, and you release a relieved sigh when you’re free of the painful shoes. After that, you begin digging through your bag, pulling out your pajamas and toiletries and carrying them with you into the surprisingly roomy hotel bathroom.

Beginning the process of de-glamorizing yourself, you start by taking the obscene number of bobby pins out of your hair, then painstakingly run a brush through your heavily hairsprayed tresses. Next is your face, and you have to use multiple wipes to remove all of the make-up that is caked onto your skin.

It’s not until you’re fresh faced and finished brushing your teeth, ready to finally jump into the shower, that you realize that you’re not going to be able to get out of your dress on your own. The zipper is oddly placed on your back and there’s a hook and eye that’s just out of your reach. The other bridesmaids were there to help you get into it this morning, but now the only person available to assist you is Jake. Knowing what your options are, you spend a considerable amount of time attempting to get the garment off on your own, but it is to no avail.

Resigning yourself to the fact that you’re going to have to ask for his help, you trudge out of the bathroom and come to a stop next to the side of the bed that Jake has claimed. At your appearance, he peers up at you from his phone and gives you a curious look.

Spinning around so your back is to him, you request, “Can you help me get this thing off, please? I can’t reach.” For some ungodly reason, you feel the need to show him that your arms are too short to get to the fastenings, and you flail them around helplessly.

Jake chuckles at your demonstration, and then you hear the creak of the mattress springs as he rises from his spot on the bed. You weren’t actually expecting him to get up, thinking he would easily be able to do the job from his lounging position, so your bodies end up uncomfortably close when he stands behind you. You can feel the heat of his chest against your back for just a moment until you shuffle forward a bit to create some distance between the two of you.

Jake begins by sweeping your hair over your shoulder, his fingers delicately brushing the skin on the back of your neck in the process. His touch feels weirdly intimate, and it causes goosebumps to appear on your flesh where his fingertips are. You hope he doesn’t notice.

He doesn’t break the contact between your skin and his as he trails his fingers down your back to the top of the dress. When he reaches it, he takes hold of the seam, and his other hand comes up to smoothly drag the zipper down to its end, right below the band of your admittedly skimpy underwear. As he makes his way back up to the hook and eye, he allows his fingertips to glide up your spine, and you reflexively shiver.

If you weren’t blushing before, you definitely are now. Jake deftly undoes the small hook and the dress falls open, the entirety of your back on display. You feel exposed, and your arms instinctively rise to keep the gown from revealing any more of your skin to Jake’s eyes.

Not wanting to prolong the embarrassing moment any longer, you take a step forward with the intent of returning to the bathroom. Your movement, however, is halted by Jake quietly exclaiming, “Hey, wait!”

Turning your head to face him, you raise your eyebrows and look at him questioningly.

He closes the distance between you again, and his hand reaches up to toy with the piece of jewelry that adorns your neck. In a husky voice, he asks, “Do you want me to take this off too?”

You had forgotten all about the necklace that your friend had given you as a bridesmaid gift, but Jake was right. It was fairly elaborate and would not be comfortable to sleep in, so it would definitely need to be removed. And while you could probably navigate getting it off on your own, you still find yourself nodding at Jake to accept his offer.

Whirling back around, you use one hand to gather up your hair and hold it in a knot at the back of your head, giving Jake easier access to the clasp. Your other hand continues to clutch the front of your gown to your chest, the thin straps not doing much to maintain your modesty.

Jake inches even closer, and again, you feel his body heat against your back. You hate to admit it, but the proximity makes your breathing speed up significantly. With nimble fingers, he grasps the chain and swiftly undoes the clasp, catching the heavy piece of jewelry in one hand.

Dropping your hair, you spin to face him and take the necklace from his extended palm. You look up and see that the smirk from earlier is painted on his face once again. Cheeks burning, you

mumble a shy, “thank you,” before fleeing to the bathroom.

Regretfully, your thoughts drift to Jake while you’re in the shower. Standing under the spray with your eyes closed, you can’t help but visualize his form lounging on the bed in that unbuttoned shirt and those perfectly fitted dress pants, and then that leads you to relive the moment you shared not even ten minutes ago of him helping you out of your dress. Then your imagination runs a little wild and you have to force yourself to push him out of your mind before it goes too crazy.

By the time you’re rinsing the last bits of conditioner out of your hair and turning off the water, the tiredness from the long and hectic day has totally crashed over you. You can barely keep your eyes open as you comb the knots out of your hair and pull on the loose t-shirt and short shorts that comprise your pajamas.

Deciding to forego drying your hair in favor of getting to sleep sooner, you leave your belongings scattered on the vanity and traipse out of the bathroom, rubbing your eyes tiredly. The first thing your eyes land upon once they clear is Jake’s nearly naked form, slightly bent over and rifling through a small bag, his back to you. The pieces of his suit that he was still wearing when you last saw him have been discarded and hung up in the open coat closet, and his form-fitting navy boxer briefs are now the only article of clothing left on his body.

Though you’re ashamed to admit it, you ogle his ass for a good few seconds until he abruptly stands straight up, toothbrush and toothpaste in hand. You’re sure you resemble a deer in headlights when he spins on his heel and catches sight of your wide eyes practically drilling holes into his scantily clad figure. A smug grin tugs at his lips and you quickly avert your gaze to the floor.

Not embarrassed in the least, Jake struts past you and into the bathroom that you just vacated, swinging the door closed with a loud click. A second later, you hear the faucet turn on.

Shaking yourself out of your daze, you flick on both of the bedside lamps and turn off the overhead light on the ceiling, a softer glow replacing the harsh brightness of the room. Even though you don’t appreciate his arrogance, you don’t want Jake to trip and fall on his pretty face when he exits the bathroom because the room is too dark.

You then plug your phone into the outlet next to the bed, and, finally, pull back the covers of the side of the mattress that has not been claimed by Jake. Climbing in, you turn on your side so that you’re facing away from the middle of the bed and scoot yourself almost to the edge, moving around until you’re comfortable. While you’re mature enough that you would never make Jake sleep on the floor when the bed is perfectly large enough for both of you, you do NOT want there to be any unnecessary contact between the two of you in said bed. Hence you confining yourself to a small space as far away from Jake’s side as possible.

Tugging the plush covers up to your chin, you allow your eyes to fall shut, and you are almost instantly overtaken by sleep. Your slumber doesn’t last long, however, because you’re awoken by the sound of the bathroom door opening and Jake padding back towards the bed. Your eyes snap open and you watch him, still clothed in only his underwear, come to your side of the bed and switch off the lamp, then walk to his own side and turn off the lamp there.

The glow of the moon is the only source of light as he lifts up the comforter and plops his nearly nude body unceremoniously between the sheets. He shifts around a bit, then exhales a loud breath when he finds a comfortable position. You can hear the shit-eating grin on his face as he turns his head to you on his pillow and says in a sickly sweet voice, “Good night, sweetheart.”

Too tired to respond, you give him a grunt of acknowledgement and close your eyes, praying you can fall asleep as quickly as you did the first time. It seems like you only listen to the rhythmic sound of Jake’s breathing for a few minutes before you slip into unconsciousness.

⏭

It’s still dark in the room when you awaken a few hours later. You’re lying on your side with your arm in an uncomfortable position, and you can feel the sensation of pins and needles traveling throughout the limb. On top of that, you are entirely too warm, an unidentified heat source attached to your back.

It only takes a few seconds for the sleepy fog in your brain to clear and for you to realize that the source of your discomfort is a body. More specifically, Jake’s body. And not only is he cuddled up against you, he also has an arm thrown over your waist and a leg slung over your thigh, holding you snugly against him. You’re not sure how you ended up like this, but you know that you need to move now. Meer acquaintances do not snuggle like this.

Without much thought, you make an attempt to slip free from his clutches and migrate back to your side of the bed. Jake’s hold on you is so tight though, that you’re hardly able to move an inch. The little bit that you are able to shift, however, has made you acutely aware of the fact that there is something rigid poking your backside, and it twitches slightly as you wriggle against it.

At first, the discovery of Jake’s boner pressing against you has you feeling ridiculously embarrassed. You can feel your cheeks heat up and your breathing quicken, and the combination of your absolute mortification and his body heat has you sweating.

You try again, a bit more forcefully this time, to break free from Jake’s grip, but it is to no avail. Your stirring must disturb him just a little, though, because he emits a low groan from his throat, then uses the arm around your waist to pull you even closer to him.

Quickly, your embarrassment turns to annoyance. You’re annoyed because you wouldn’t be in this predicament if you’d just taken it upon yourself to book your own hotel room. You’re annoyed because you could have asked one of the other bridesmaids to let you sleep in their room, but you decided to just bite the bullet and share with Jake for this one night instead. You’re annoyed because you made it a point to stay on your side of the bed, and you still somehow ended up in Jake’s clutches. You’re annoyed because your best friend and her new husband would have a field day if they could see you and Jake right now. But mostly, you’re annoyed because Jake’s hardness against your ass has your head swimming with thoughts that you definitely should not be thinking, and your thighs squeezing together in search of some sort of relief from the sudden rush of arousal between your legs.

It’s this overwhelming feeling of irritation that leads you to growl out, “Jake,” in an attempt to wake him.

Your efforts result in nothing. Not even a stir. He continues to snuggle you and sleep peacefully.

Raising your voice even more, you slap his arm lightly and bark, “Jake!”

Once again, he does not respond. The man sleeps like a log, apparently.

His lack of a response only fuels the aggravated fire in you, and so you turn your head towards his and shout, probably too loudly, “Jake! Let me go!”

Finally, in reaction to your yelling, Jake’s body jumps and his eyes pop open in alarm. He looks around in confusion for a second and his arm leaves your waist briefly to rub at his still partially closed eyes, but he returns it to the same spot as he questions, “Jesus, babe. Why are you yelling? Go back to sleep.” His voice is gravelly and you watch as he closes his eyes again as soon as he gets the words out.

You balk at both his nonchalance and the pet name he called you. You shouldn’t be surprised at either, but you are.

Squirming against him again, you agitatedly snap, “Are you going to let me go, or do you plan on holding me captive all night?”

From behind you, Jake hums against the back of your head and flippantly states, “I don’t know what the issue is, babe. I’m very comfortable like this.”

You’re positive that, even though he’s hardly awake, there is a smirk marring Jake’s features at your current lack of composure. The thought makes you clench your jaw in ire.

“The issue,” you start, through gritted teeth, “is that your dick is literally poking my ass. Now, let me go.”

Wordlessly, Jake flops from his side onto his back, ridding you, at last, of the arm and leg that were holding you against him. As soon as you’re free, you scramble as far as you can away from him and flip to your back as well, hoping to improve the circulation in your arm that had fallen asleep.

“Please try your best to stay on your own side,” you request tersely. He just hums in response.

Despite being free and more comfortable now, you are unfortunately still wide awake, mind racing and incredibly (disturbingly) turned on. You stare at the ceiling for a while, trying to will away the throbbing of your clit that has only seemed to become more intense since you separated from Jake. You curse him in your head for having this effect on you.

A few minutes pass and you decide to chance a glance at him, curious if he already fell back asleep or is lying wide awake like you. Slowly, as to not raise his suspicions, you turn your head on the pillow to look, and immediately regret doing so.

Neither you nor Jake had thought to shut the curtains before climbing into bed, and the moon is shining particularly bright tonight. Bright enough that Jake’s form is illuminated next to you, and you can clearly see that he is still hard. A sizable tent is present in the thin sheet covering him from the chest down, and he is lying with his arms stretched upward, hands cradling his head, and eyes wide open. He is taking deep breaths, seemingly trying to calm himself down.

The sight does NOT help quell your arousal in the slightest, and you know you need Jake and his erection to vacate the premises before you combust. You know you shouldn’t say the words before they even come out of your mouth, but the suggestion falls past your lips before you can stop yourself.

“Maybe you should, like, go take care of that or something.”

Jake’s head whips toward you. The moonlight reveals raised eyebrows, but then the dreaded smirk appears. Again. You really cannot fathom how he can be so shameless and confident at a time like this.

He takes some time to consider your recommendation, then retorts, “Actually, I was hoping maybe you would help me out…”

A noise that’s something between a strangled cackle and a sputter leaves your throat at his proposal. You give him a look as though he has lost his damn mind, and disbelievingly croak, “Excuse me?!”

Jake is undeterred. “Come on, babe,” he goads. “We both know that the sexual tension between us is off the charts.”

Astounded, you gape at him for a second. The irritation you were feeling replaced by bewilderment. You truly do not know how to reply, and so you stutter out, “I-”

“Please don’t try to deny it,” Jake cuts you off. He sits up, reaches over to flick on his bedside lamp, and turns his body to face you before going on. “I see how you look at me sometimes when you think I’m not paying attention. I see how flustered you get when I flirt with you in front of our lovely friends. And I saw how you reacted when I touched you earlier. You got goosebumps the second I laid my han-”

“Okay, okay, okay,” you interrupt, having heard enough. But Jake’s not done.

“You can’t tell me that you don’t find me attractive, Y/N.”

And he’s right. You can’t say that. Because he’s probably one of the most beautiful humans you’ve ever laid eyes on. And even though you hate feeding into him, you aren’t a liar.

“I never said that,” you resolve, and Jake’s face lights up. “I just think that us hooking up could make things messy. Like, I don’t want to feel awkward if I try to hang out with my best friend and you’re there. Because let’s face it, we see each other all the time. How weird would having a one night stand make that?”

You’re proud of yourself for being able to coherently voice your thoughts and maintain your rationality. As much as your body may want to fuck Jake in this moment, your head is well aware of the implications a meaningless hook up with him would have.

Jake, apparently, does not understand the implications though, because he is staring at you with a perplexed look on his face. “Who said it would be a one night stand?” he asks, and his tone tells you that he isn’t joking.

What does that mean? What does this man want from me?

You involuntarily scrunch your face, then sit up as well. “I thought that was implied,” you admit, skepticism evident. “When we went out that one time, you were definitely more interested in a casual fuck than a relationship.”

Jake laughs and shakes his head. “Y/N, that was literally years ago.”

“And? What’s changed? I’ve seen how many girls you’ve gone through since then,” you counter, not buying that Jake is suddenly ready to commit to one person.

He emits a loud sigh. “Listen,” he begins, running a hand through his mostly straight brunette hair. “I realize my past behavior may be a little...off putting. But I have to tell you, I’ve been pissed at myself for scaring you off ever since that date we went on.”

You’re dumbfounded. It never even crossed your mind that Jake may have regretted how things between the two of you turned out. He certainly never gave you any hints that he was interested in you.

You want to ask him for further clarification, but he speaks again before you’re able to.

“I can tell that you want to ask me a million and one questions, but I really don’t think we need to make it that complicated. I’ll just say this: I like you. And I think maybe we should just...see where things go. No pressure.”

The suggestion is tempting. Especially the sex aspect. Your heat is practically begging for Jake’s touch at this point, the wetness starting to become uncomfortable. But the “seeing where things go” part has you feeling apprehensive.

Does that just mean that he wants to fuck you regularly? Like a friends with benefits situation? Or does that mean that he wants to, like, take you out on dates and be exclusive? You can’t say you would be opposed to that, but he’s being so...vague.

You decide to voice your apprehension out loud. “I don’t know, Jake…” you drawl, staring at the wall behind his head.

Your fingers fidget with the hem of your pajama shorts, a visible display of your nerves, until Jake inches closer to you and takes your hands into his own. He uses his thumbs, calloused from years of playing guitar, to run gentle circles on the backs of your hands as he pleads, “Come on, Y/N, let me make you feel good.”

And you’re ashamed that that’s all it takes for you to give into him, but not even a second passes before you’re mumbling out a quiet, “okay,” and watching a smile, a genuine one, take over his face. Then you’re gracefully (you hope) climbing into his lap and wrapping your legs around his waist. At the same time, your arms find their way around his neck and his wind around your waist, hands settling on your lower back.

Surprisingly, the two of you don’t dive into it right away. For what feels like multiple minutes, Jake just stares up at you and you stare back, both of you breathing heavily through parted lips. The tension in the room is palpable. Your heart feels like it’s going to beat out of your chest, and its pace quickens even more when you become conscious of Jake’s erection, hard and warm and dangerously close to your heat.

Unable to refrain, you look down between your bodies and see just how close your sexes are, only an inch of space and a few thin layers of material separating your most intimate area from Jake’s. And suddenly the room feels 10 degrees warmer.

Spurred on by the sight, you dig your heels into the mattress and use the leverage to drag yourself even closer to him, so that your clothed core makes contact with his covered cock. At once, your nipples harden to stiff peaks and your hips instinctually rock forward.

This motion is the straw that breaks the camel’s back for Jake. A pained groan sounds from the back of his throat and then his hands are gripping the back of your head and he’s pulling your face down so he can fervently plant his lips on yours.

All of the remaining walls you had raised to protect yourself come crumbling down in that moment, and you kiss him back with just as much enthusiasm, consequences be damned. You would never confess out loud to having thought about this moment before, but in your head you think that his kiss is even better than you imagined.

Hands gripping his hair, you allow him to suck on your bottom lip momentarily before thrusting your tongue in his mouth. It tangles with his and you feel tingles throughout your body. But unlike the tingling sensation you had experienced in your arm earlier from lack of circulation, this tingling is actually pleasant. You sigh into his mouth.

Jake’s hands find your waist and begin to explore under your flimsy pajama shirt, all while he continues to kiss you like his life depends on it. His fingers glide up your rib cage to just below your breasts, then back down again, leaving a trail of fire on your skin. Every time he does it, you hope he’ll venture higher, but he never strays from his path.

Wanting nothing more than for him to pay your breasts some attention, you decide to take matters into your own hands. Pulling your lips away from his, you lean back the smallest amount and swiftly yank the shirt off your body, leaving your chest exposed to his greedy eyes. You toss it haphazardly to the floor and revel at the whine that comes from Jake at the unveiling of your bare tits. You feel butterflies in your stomach as he stares at them like they’re the most beautiful things he’s ever seen.

When he meets your gaze again and asks, voice strained, “Can I?” you expect to feel his hands paw at your chest upon receiving your permission. Instead, you’re taken aback by the moist heat of his mouth enveloping your nipple, the suction he applies makes you toss your head back and moan. Loudly.

He works furiously at the tiny bud, alternating between flicking it with his tongue and sucking it between his perfect lips. It feels so good that your hips begin grinding against him on their own accord, your grip on his hair holding him to your chest. You know your underwear is probably soaked by now. Hell, your pajama shorts are probably soaked too. And you should be embarrassed, but Jake is making you feel so euphoric that you simply do not care.

Jake’s hands have moved to your ass, and it’s the small pinch he gives the flesh there that makes you loosen your grip on him slightly and look down at him. He releases your nipple with a small pop and pulls your face down to his again, giving you a brief, but still deep, kiss on the lips. Then, in stark contrast, he starts to trail feather light kisses down your jaw and neck, making his way to your other breast.

The two of you make eye contact as he takes that nipple into his mouth, and your jaw falls open at both the sensation and the sultriness of his gaze. Little whimpers sound from your throat as he pays just as much attention to it as he did to the opposite side.

When Jake’s decided that he’s had his fill of your boobs, his lips move up to your collarbone and he leaves a decent sized hickey on the skin there. You fleetingly think that you’re going to have to cover it up before the bridal party brunch in the morning, but that thought disappears when Jake’s right hand seeks out your lower abdomen and his fingers sneak past the waistband of your shorts.

Much to your chagrin, he doesn’t let them slip into your underwear, instead choosing to rub you through the damp fabric of your panties. As soon as his thumb makes contact with your clit through the material though, you’re practically melting, core clenching in delight at the pressure. You choke out a gasp and allow your eyes to fall closed.

Jake doesn’t find this acceptable though, as he uses his free hand to grab your chin and coaxes, “Hey. Look at me.”

And so you do. You stare into his eyes, pupils so dilated that they are almost entirely black, while biting your lip and grinding against his hand as he brings you closer and closer to the edge. There’s something in his eyes that you can’t quite place, a softness that almost feels like adoration, and it makes your cheeks flush. He has definitely never looked at you like this before.

In what feels like no time at all, you’re dangerously close to your peak. Only a few more strokes of his thumb and you know you’ll be seeing stars.

Then, right when you’re about to explode, Jake’s touch disappears. And while it may be dramatic, you really feel like you could cry from him ruining what was sure to be an amazing orgasm.

You’re about to voice your dissatisfaction, but Jake promptly removes his hand from your shorts and gives you a gentle smack on the ass.

“Lay down,” he demands raspily, patting the unoccupied area of the mattress to his side.

In a rush to have him touch you again, you do as he says and remove yourself from his lap, settling against the fluffy white pillows. You almost allow your hand to fall between your legs and pick up where he left off, but you refrain.

Your eyes follow Jake as he lazily rises from the bed and saunters over to his bag, combing through it until he locates his wallet and produces a foil packet. Before he joins you back on the bed, he shoves his tight boxer briefs down his legs, kicking them to the side once they’re low enough. His erection springs free from its confines, and your eyes immediately lock onto it. From where you’re lying, you can see the pre-cum leaking from the tip, and your mind starts to feel hazy with desire.

You watch in awe as he circles his hand around his cock and gives it a few lazy strokes while he makes his way back to you, bottom lip caught between his teeth. The sight is downright obscene, and so is the noise you make in response.

When he crawls back onto the bed, he settles himself between your legs, and, without pausing, reaches for the waistband of your shorts. Looking to your face for permission, you give him a small nod and then he’s pulling both your shorts and your panties down your thighs and past your calves until they lie forgotten at the end of the bed.

Still on his knees, Jake inspects your nude body head to toe, tongue darting out to moisten his lips. He moves to stroke himself again, but you sit up a bit and reach for him instead, rubbing your palm from the tip of his dick to the base, shivering at the groan he releases from his throat.

He allows you to continue for a few more strokes, clearly enjoying himself, but then he’s batting your hand away, whispering “Not gonna last if you keep that up,” and slithering over your body, trapping your lips in a kiss and taking your breath away.

You’re so caught up in the kiss that it takes you by surprise when his fingers find their way between your legs and he plunges two of them inside of you, alternating between pumping in and out and curling them so that they hit that one magical spot that makes your toes curl. He keeps his thumb busy on your clit, and his actions have you panting into the kiss, little whimpers passing from your mouth to his.

In no time at all, those whimpers turn into full blown moans, and you unintentionally break the kiss as you writhe against him. Taking the opportunity to kiss a path to your ear, Jake playfully bites at your lobe, then whispers, “Shit, you’re fucking drenched. So wet for my fingers. I can’t wait to fuck you.”

By now, you’re desperate for him, wanting nothing more than to feel him inside you, and so you scratch your nails lightly down his back and breathe, “Then do it. God, please.”

Jake doesn’t need any further prompting. Abruptly, he pulls back and reaches for the condom, tearing open the foil and rolling it on his perfectly sized (in your mind, at least) dick as you observe with hooded eyes.

Draping his body over yours, Jake encourages you to part your legs wider, and extends a hand to grip his cock. Teasing you, he rubs the head of his penis over your clit a few times, causing you to hiss. You can tell he wants to shoot you that infuriatingly sexy smirk, but the pleasure of the contact between you has his jaw hanging open instead.

When he does push into you, at last, you both breathe a sigh of relief. His eyes lock on yours as he finds a rhythm, slow and deep at first but gradually increasing in speed and pressure. There’s an undeniable fire between you as he thrusts his hips into yours, filling you and making you moan.

The tender look in his eyes from earlier has returned, and you can’t help but melt into a puddle of pleasure and affection when he grunts out, “Fuck, you’re so beautiful. I’ve been thinking about this for so long.”

He kisses you again, tongue seeking out yours and battling with it, somehow heightening your senses even more. This doesn’t feel like just a kiss though, it feels like Jake is using his mouth to convey exactly how much he likes you, and you’re eagerly responding.

As he continues pumping into you, your hands land on his shoulders, squeezing every time he hits a particularly sensitive spot inside of you. One especially hard thrust has you clenching around him, and Jake buries his face into your neck, groaning deeply. You can tell he’s close because his movements start to become a bit erratic, and thinking about Jake coming has you close to your climax too.

And it’s like Jake can read your mind, because as soon as you start feeling like you need just a little bit more to push you over the edge, he uses his arm to hook your right leg and raise it up, changing the angle in a delicious way. That, in combination with his thumb finding your clit and applying some much needed pressure, has you crying out his name, your orgasm shuddering through you in waves.

He’s not far behind you, giving a few more sloppy thrusts before his face is overtaken by pleasure and he’s cursing, collapsing on top of you.

The two of you lie like that for a moment and catch your breath, his weight fully on top of you and his head resting on your chest, and it’s scary how much you enjoy it. How right it feels. When you do part ways momentarily so that you both can clean up, you feel a strange pang in your heart that dissipates as soon as you’re back in bed and in his arms.

And while a part of you wants to check in with Jake, see how he felt about what you just did, ask more questions about his current stance on relationships, you decide to let it go for the time being and just enjoy the moment. As you cuddle into him and fall back asleep for the few short hours you have left in this hotel room, you think to yourself that, while you’re not thrilled about having to admit to your best friend and her new husband that they were right, you’re more than just a little excited to “see where things go” with Jake.

#Greta Van Fleet #jake kiszka #smut #fanfic #imagine #my writing #greta van fleet fanfic #greta van smut #one shot #greta van fleet fic #jake kiszka fic #jake kiszka x reader #gvf #gvf fic

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magnoliabloomfield · 3 years

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Gally imagine part 6

Part one Part two Part three Part four Part five

It wasn’t until I was laying in my lumpy bed that night that things started to occur to me. It finally hit me, maybe all the things he said I should change were things he noticed... no, that was dumb it was all just basic stuff.

Except for the pants dance. He’d come up with that specifically and he’d turned fifty shades of red. Maybe that one meant something to him personally.

I found myself grinning in the dark and slapped a hand over my upturned lips, embarrassed for no reason. I tried to ignore the thought of Gally being attracted to me and the sprinkly feeling it gave me deep inside, and also shoved away the thought I had that he was cute and tried to get to sleep. But I don’t think I stopped grinning all night.

I paid attention to Gally from the corner of my eyes after that. It was hard to find out how observant someone was of you and not let on that you were trying to observe them right back. It was terrifying but some how a victory whenever I’d look up and make direct eye contact with him, the thrill when either he looked surprised before averting his gaze like he hadn’t been watching, or would hold my gaze until I was the one who couldn’t handle it anymore.

Sometimes I’d be brave in the lunch line and give a brief greeting as I passed him, usually a simple “Gally” and a nod with a barely contained smirk. Sometimes he’d surprise me and sit at the same table, usually when Newt was there as well since they were pretty good friends which was unexpected to me for some reason. But they would talk and it would let me pop in some appropriate questions about things around the glade and stories of before I got there. It got me more accustomed to talking to Gally, broke what was left of the ice after the laughing in the woods.

I was really figuring out that my first impression of him wasn’t very accurate. He was serious, but about his work because they had to do it safely and make it safe for everyone to use. He seemed mean but it was because he was protective and as I was out of the ordinary I was seen as a threat at first. He liked order and peace, and it was quite vital to maintaining their precarious life there, but teenage boys were always on the verge of anarchy and madness. Gally was forced to mature faster and had to put the fear of death into the new guys who had delusions of slacking off. Gally wasn’t uncaring, he was just... aggressively caring.

Every time I learned something about who Gally was I’d notice something else, like the peppering of freckles on his skin, how one side of his mouth would go higher than the other on the rare occasion he would smile, or how full and nice his lips were. With every nice new thing about his personality he became better and better looking to me.

It was like getting to know a big dog that had growled at you. You let them sniff you and you make sure they’re ok before you try to pet them, you read their body language, and while you may find they have very soft ears and you’d like to mush their cute face up, you are a little intimidated to, they could change their mind and growl at you again if you weren’t careful.

I could tell he was feeling odd about figuring out what to call me since I never had remembered my name. Most called me Greenie still, others called me Girly and of course Newt called me Muppet, but I saw Gally decide that he could not call me that. We found out what he wanted to call me at the bonfire when the next Greenie arrived.

The fighting circle had seemed scary and dumb when I’d first gotten there and they tried to proceed with it like life was still normal, but now it had a certain appeal, at least to watch.

Gally was an effortless powerhouse, but he didn’t just throw it around because he could, he conserved his energy and strength so he could have longer endurance. He waited for a good opening before he exerted himself. He was pretty much an undefeated champion. It was a spectacle and as much entertainment as I was going to get around here.

Gally was red faced but hadn’t broken a sweat when he was looking for his sixth contender. While his back was turned I felt someone grab my shoulders from behind and thrust me into the circle.

“Hey Gally! Fresh meat!” Whoever it was yelled and the other boys cheered louder than I’d ever heard them before.

Gally looked surprised then amused when he turned around and saw me.

I gave a fake and nervous laugh. “Oh, no, no. I didn’t- I wasn’t-“

“Too late, you’re in the circle now,” Gally said and I could tell he was having fun with this and making up rules.

The boys barred me from leaving, compacting themselves together so I couldn’t break through. I could feel Gally pacing on the opposite side of the circle, eyeing me up for the kill, I could tell.

“I don’t know the rules,” I tried to argue as I felt my heart trying to crawl up my throat as I turned back toward Gally.

He started taking slow steps toward me, the glower in his eyes had my lungs struggling to do the simple job they usually could do in my sleep just fine.

Gally made a sudden motion where he lowered a little and spread his arms a little wider like he was about to rush me and I jumped, taking a half step back. He broke into a chuckle and the fullest smile I’d ever seen on his face which he quickly tried to hide by looking down.

“Just stay in the circle as long as you can,” Newt told me from the sidelines after making his way closer to me.

“That’s not actually helpful,” I said, flicking him as I passed, trying to stay as far from Gally as he slowly stalked me around the circle. “What’s he allowed to do to me? What am I allowed to do to him? What can’t I do?”

I was only about 70% convinced Gally wouldn’t actually hurt me, but I knew I wasn’t getting out of this without something happening to me and I had no idea what it could be. And I knew I couldn’t do a single thing to him. I could try, but it’d be an embarrassing failure.

Finally tired of playing cat and mouse with me, Gally closed the space between us. He caught my wrist and ducked, throwing me over his shoulder. I felt the wind knocked out of me as my organs got rearranged from the pressure of his shoulder in my stomach, but the sensation of his hand gripping my lower thigh was overwhelming.

I felt him walk me a short distance before setting me down ever so gently on the outside of the circle. As he straightened up, right when his eyes were level with mine he paused.

“Don’t get carried away, Princess,” he said softly just for me and then... and then he winked. He smirked at my wide eyes before he straightened up the rest of the way and took a few steps backward, back into the center of the circle. I could have caught several flies with my open mouth.

Part 7

#will poulter #will poulter protection squad #gally #the maze runner #maze runner #fanfic #tmr #Gally imagine #tmr Gally imagine #Gally tmr

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lizacstuff · 3 years

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Your thoughts on the epi? I thought it was a good episode overall. Serkan is acting the way I thought he would: he wants to be the perfect Dad, is scared she won't love him, is spoiling her but also teaching her things. I'm not quite sure why Kiraz isn't calling him Baba, maybe she needs time to adjust to calling him that. I have mixed emotions when it comes to the way Eda spied on Serkan. I understand she's worried but trust the man a little. No comments on Aydan and Ayfer! They are too much!

Hello! I liked the episode. It felt very light, very romcom-y and I thought it was very enjoyable to watch. Loved every minute of Serkan trying to be the ideal dad and I'm here for the Edser UST this ep brought. They want each other sooooo much. And, yes, Eda wants him, she wants him bad. I thought the custody thing at the end was silly and convoluted, but, hey, I'm totally here for the "they're not together and fighting their feelings, but forced to live together" trope so I will just ignore how unbelievable it would be for Edser to be drowning in hearteyes for each other all ep, getting along in regards to Kiraz, AND seemingly aware that Aydan/Ayfer were up to something and still allow a misunderstanding over their shenanigans to spiral to that nonsense degree.

Maybe the folks that think that Serkan & Eda were playing all the meddling family and friends are right, and they set it up beforehand, it's just that I've thought things were a fake out on this show so many times, only for them to be real, so at this point I'm operating under the assumption that this is just a romcom plot point to throw our romantic leads together and it's not worth examining it too closely.

I'll give my thoughts on the "Baba" vs "Serkan Bolat" thing and Eda's actions after we talk a bit about the B, C and D players... Thankfully we had plenty of Edser and Kiraz screen time this ep so the supporting stories didn't overwhelm the episode too much.

(much more under the cut)

That being said, who can we pay to get these people to mind their own f-cking business? LMAO. At least Engin and Piril weren't annoying and were actually trying to be helpful. I mean, Piril is still cancelled, but if she's not causing trouble now then she's not at the top of my shit list. However, I did laugh at her when she's sort of pleading with Serkan: "We've been friends for a long time, you'll understand why I did this." Um... what, Piril? You're sitting there approximately 72 hours after Serkan found out he has a child and he's already proven that he's ALL IN on being a father, and you expect Serkan to think you were right for hiding it from him? Cause why? He has already proven that any concerns you had about him rejecting Kiraz were invalid. The only thing wrong with Serkan's anger at Piril is that it will probably only last for that scene.

Anyone else think Kerem the assistant is an ass? Seriously, do they really want us to root for sweet Pina to be with this dickweasel? He's insecure, he thinks he knows it all, he's snarky and lashes out, he's vindictive. No thanks.

As for Aydan and Ayfer. Ooph. As punishment for their unprecedented assery this episode they both need to be stranded on a desert island with only each other. Only then maybe they'll learn not to insert themselves by such underhanded means. They're both giant pains in the ass, but Ayfer still annoys me more than Aydan. Because here's the thing, once Edser is back together and Serkan is happy, Aydan will fully embrace Eda again, but I don't think the same can be said for Ayfer. Did you see some of the bitchy, sour faces Ayfer was making, taunting Eda about her soft spot for Serkan. She's insufferable.

Turning to the nonsense meddling custody plot line, Kemal and Seyfi were just following orders, but what is Melo's excuse? It's unfortunate that the narrative pulled her into this. Ayfer may have her head in the sand, and not really care what Eda wants, but Melo does and she knew that Eda wanted to cooperate with Serkan and bring him into Kiraz's life, she knew that Eda was about 2 seconds from melting every time she was near Serkan, and that they were likely on the cusp of rekindling their relationship. There is no way she should have been complicit in trying to get evidence against Serkan or visiting lawyers behind Eda's back.

However, even after being complicit in Ayfer's nonsense, she still deserves a helluva lot better than Burak. That guy was annoying af this episode. What exactly does he think he's doing? I'm sorry, in that situation you step back and give the people going through such a monumental life change some space. Again, it's not like it needs to be forever, but you don't try and monopolize the kid's time the night of and 2 days after she meets her long-lost father. He needs to fuck all he way off.

Also since Eda had no interest in this guy, why is he coming over to tuck in the kid EVERY night? I get that he's been good to Kiraz and they have a nice relationship, but that's soooo overkill, it's just not normal. Especially since they've said they've only been living there a year. The only reason for a dude to revolve his entire life around a kid like that is because he's actively trying to get in the mom's pants. So when it comes to Burak's intentions, Eda is as dense as Serkan used to be with Balca/Selin/Actress. Burak only took that level of interest and inserted himself into their lives because he wanted Eda, and Eda should realize that and have a frank conversation with him. Eda doesn't even have to be cognizant that she will inevitably get back together with Serkan, she already knows she has no interest in Burak. She should tell him. And if she's already told him (which it seems she might have from her comments to Ayfer and Melo) she should put some boundaries in place because his presence was ridiculous.

It still blows my mind that this sad sack thinks he has a shot with Eda. Seriously, while the dude isn't hideous, he's also not attractive and he has the personality of dead grass coupled with the charisma of warm mayonnaise. He's not worthy of either Eda or Melo. The scene of Melo and Burak walking on the beach made me a bit uncomfortable. They're totally setting that relationship up, but so far all we see is Melo obviously harboring feelings for him as Burak broods over his Eda delusions. We'll have to see how this plays out, but I feel like Burak didn't need to be this upset over Eda for the story to work, and it would be a lot easier to root for him with Melo if by episode 5 if he wasn't still actively trying, as Engin said, to take over Serkan's family.

On to Edser and the newly forming Bolat family unit. It's funny, I'm not someone who thinks a woman needs to take her husband's last name, I think people should do whatever they want, but for whatever reason I really, really want Eda and Kiraz to have his name. Maybe because I think they all crave having people to belong to in a sense. Serkan because he was unloved and sent overseas alone at such a young age, Eda because she was an orphan, Kiraz because she didn't have a dad in early childhood. So for that reason, I really do feel like it will be meaningful to have them tied together that way as a family unit. They belong to each other now (or they will soon).

Along those lines, you say you're not sure why Kiraz isn't calling him Baba, narratively, I think it's because that will be a big milestone in their relationship. When she feels comfortable enough, connected enough, and secure enough with him to do that, it's going to melt all of our hearts right out of our chests. If she'd done it right away it wouldn't feel as special as it's going to feel when it eventually happens because she feels it (not just because it's a fact).

As for her calling him Serkan Bolat, I think it's adorable. That's how she knew him before, it would be weird if she called him anything other than that or Baba, (like Serkan or Abi) because then it would be like she was settling on that, but calling him by his full name, which is such a part of his identity, is cute and charming and pays tribute to the interactions they had before they knew of their relationship, and it's a signal that it's only temporary. Baba is coming, don't worry.

Loved Kiraz showing Serkan her room and all of her things, and really loved Eda standing there, smiling, soaking it in. I've seen a lot of criticism of Eda in this episode and she did have a few moments that were unnecessarily harsh, but I think it's also valid to give her a minute to adjust because this is a lot of change in just a couple of days. While she now knows Serkan had understandable, and even noble, reasons for what he did and said, that still doesn't erase the heartbreak and pain he put her through, or the 5 years of being a single mother and not having anyone to consult or needing to consult anyone on decisions regarding Kiraz.

I do think, though, that we didn't see Eda give him enough credit when he covered for her lies to Kiraz. When Kiraz asked her why she didn't tell her Serkan Bolat was her father and then asked him when mom didn't answer, he could have easily told the truth and thrown Eda under the bus, big time, but instead he comes up with something that passes as an explanation, doesn't make anyone a villain, but also doesn't make him look great. I wish we'd seen Eda recognize that. It was a magnanimous gesture on his part, since he and Kiraz were the ones who were lied to for 5 years.

However, her running a bit hot and cold this episode makes sense. On one hand when she's around him her heart feels that strong orbital pull towards him. She loves him. She always has loved him, she always will love him. Just like with Serkan, that will not change, and obviously didn't after heartbreak and separation. But it also makes sense that at times her head takes over and with it the fear and the memory of the pain and she freezes up a bit. It doesn't ding her or their love, she just needs time to let herself believe that this is really happening. That Serkan is back, that he still loves her, that he loves their daughter and wants to be a father and form a family. From the way she recorded those videos, how many times do we think she dreamed of them being a happy family together? I'm guessing a lot. Now it's within her grasp and I think she just needs to be sure that Serkan is for real before she fully succumbs to this dream.

She also needs to get over her pride, I'm sure there's a part of her (Ayfer's voice) telling her a woman doesn't go back to a man who hurt her that badly. But as we saw, girlfriend was snuggling with his shirt, she still has it so bad for him. But, pro tip, Eda, he wanted to stay the night, wouldn't it be so much more fulfilling to snuggle with the real thing? I promise it would... just let him in. The lawn scene was hilarious. Kerem is really and truly a gifted physical comedian. We know how tight the timelines are on this show and they don't get to do a lot of takes, but his stumbling over the furniture and falling was flawlessly done. Hande was great too... that bat! Of course the sexual tension in the robes and towel scene was magnificent. When she first walked in wearing that towell I thought my man was going to combust. That look on his face, priceless.

Speaking of priceless, what first-day Baba makes his little girl's dreams come true like Serkan Bolat does? Staying up all night to build her flying house? MY HEART!

What a fantastic first gift. It was incredibly thoughtful, it was meaningful to the two of them, and it was also Serkan giving a piece of himself (using his skills in what he does best as an architect) to her.

Absolute perfection.

And how sweet that Serkan wanted to spend the day with her alone!?! I really liked that because we all know he loves Eda, he wants Eda back, and he will use any excuse to spend time with Eda. And he could have done that here, but he doesn't. So the fact that he wanted to spend the day alone with Kiraz, clearly illustrates that his interest in Kiraz, his desire to be her father stands on it's own. Kiraz is not just an excuse to get close to Eda, he is pursuing both relationships, and they are both important to him.

Also you said that you have mixed emotions on the way Eda spied on Serkan, that she doesn't trust him, but honestly I really don't think it's about that. She might have been a little discombobulated by the idea because the man has never really spent any time with children and here he's thrust into fatherhood, but she trusts him and knows Kiraz is safe with him. Honestly, I think her biggest driving factor in following them is FOMO.

She doesn't want to miss this! She has wondered what kind of father he might be for years, and now she wants to witness it. She wants to be there and see what he's like when he's spending time with her. She also wants to be a part of it, and a part of her might be a little jealous. For years she's been the only parent, and now another parental bond is forming and it's natural she is curious what that's going to look like.

Melo even sees through her during their conversations while they're out spying. Eda pretends it's because she's worried that Serkan doesn't know what he's doing, but Melo susses out that it's really because she missed Serkan. I think she really just wanted to be a part of it.

And her ulterior motives are exposed when she reacts with jealousy over the park moms and then with Hulya. She's jealous over Serkan, but also over what it might mean if Serkan had a woman in his life that's not Eda. (Real simple way to ensure that doesn't happen, Eda, just saying). On first watch it was a little frustrating to watch Eda be upset about Huyla and not have it cleared up immediately. However, on the second time through I found it incredibly enjoyable to watch. Hilarious even. Knowing that Serkan is going to let her off the hook just a few minutes later, and it's not going to be a drawn out misunderstanding, it's very fun to watch him just totally bask in her jealousy. The way he sits there and giggles and is just so chuffed at her display was very endearing. Since he's been celibate for 5 years, I suppose he's earned an incrediulous laugh at her thinking he has all these women on the line.

Eda is not wrong to be concerned about the Bolat's ability to spoil Kiraz with material things, Aydan can get out of control, however I can't be mad at the pony. The girl asked him if he had horses the first day they met, she said she wanted a dad like Serkan who had horses, he HAD to get her one she could actually ride! The girl was deprived of her father for 5 years because both of her parents are stubborn, so, let's be real, she kinda deserves a pony. Besides Eda should be more worried about the "spoiling" she gets from her camp, where she, Ayfer, Melo and Burak let her get away with constantly running away/running wild, eating ice cream whenever she wants, being rude to strangers etc. The fact that she's taught it's okay to knock a customer's water over without apologizing is more damaging to a forming personality than a pony. (Yes, that was another dig at Burak.) The point is, spoiling isn't only about material things, and from the glimpses we've seen of Baba Serkan he's already taught her about taking responsibility (confessing to breaking the window and apologizing), being self sufficient (tying shoelaces, putting pjs on herself), and setting behavioral boundaries (don't shoot arrows at people in hotels, you shouldn't hug strangers). He's going to be a very good influence in her life, because despite growing up with material privilege the man believes in hard work, effort and personal accountability.

Anyway, loved that when Serkan told Eda about dinner with Engin/Piril/Can she looked so secretly pleased when she casually agreed to go. I think that goes hand in hand with why she was spying, she won't let herself admit it, but she so badly wants them to do things as a family. That was part of her tug o' war this episode. Wanting that, but then suddenly worrying that maybe she shouldn't want that after everything that's happened, those feelings are helped along by Ayfer's judgemental looks and comments, and Burak trying to assert his place and Eda maybe feeling guilty.

Eda's behavior at dinner perfectly summarized the war going on between her head and heart this episode. First she fights with Serkan, going so far as to tell him she hates him, but the second she gets good news she flings herself into his arms. He's the person she wants to celebrate with, he's the person she wants congratulations from. So even if she was mad at him, she can't help herself. Also thank you Engin for telling Eda how Serkan lost weight and didn't come to work for months after she left. Those are important things for her to know. Also reinforced later by Aydan.

And thank you, Jan, for planting that fear of her dad leaving again with Kiraz, because it gave us sleep over at the Bolat house. It also gave us Kiraz asking Serkan if he will leave her. A good question and I'm glad we have Serkan's promise to never leave her. Just with the way tragedy (and meddling family members and obsessed stalkers) seems to find both Eda and Serkan, it's good he's made that promise. And it's good that he knows she needs that promise.

Now onto the secret room. I suppose if you're going to keep all of that and you have a large house, then you might as well keep it in a special room. This was a huge missing piece for Eda. Something tangible that she can see with her own two eyes that proves that he never forgot her and has been pining for her since the day they parted. I thought Eda was suitably touched by it all, and the fact that he got her gifts for every birthday. Anyone else think that they're going to get married on the beach and she's going to wear those flip-flops, that white dress, and the locket when they do? That's what sprung to my mind. The Neslihan scarf product placement made me roll my eyes, though.

To be honest I really didn't care what the gifts were, all I cared about was that thank you cheek kiss. I DIE. The birthday-present-thank-you cheek kiss he gave her in 7 is one of my all time favorite scenes and this parallel was a long time coming and wonderfully executed. And then they delivered on the USTy stare off where they clearly want to make out, but they're not quite there yet. It was going to have to be Eda that broke them out of it, because up to Serkan they either kiss or he stares at her for the rest of time.

Did anyone else feel a crick in their back, neck, legs at how Eda slept on that couch? Serkan was as comfy as can be, stretched out using her legs as a pillow and her torso as a blanket, lol. I wish the editors would have given us a couple of more seconds lingering on them all contorted like that. It was too precious. It would have been sweet if they'd had Kiraz find them and watch them for a minute before waking them up. Show the parent-trapping gears turning in her mind.

Buba absolutely deserved Serkan showing up to spoil his outing. And of course both ladies instantly gravitated to Serkan. I liked this scene because it gave us over-the-top BDE Serkan, a whiff of "Drain the pool" Serkan, the comedy of Engin and Serkan doing the Cyrano thing, and the obvious little "fish" measuring metaphor. But what I really liked was Eda telling him that he didn't need to try so hard to win Kiraz, that he just had to be himself. That was important and lovely, and illustrated to him that she really did want him to develop a good relationship with Kiraz.

The best moments of the episode for them, though, came during their family stargazing outing. Loved Serkan's extra safety precautions, including the mirror just so he can see her in the backseat. Though, if he's that concerned about it, maybe a larger car, lmao? Kiraz tricking them into kissing was an auspicious start to the evening, hopefully that's a taste of things to come. I'm here for her forcing the two of them into intimate situations.

The way Serkan was looking at the two of them throughout the stargazing was something else. He was looking at them with such longing. Like he couldn't believe they were so close, but he wanted them so badly. DUDE, they are right there, continue to play your cards right (and not let Ayfer and Aydan spoil things, spoiler alert, they do) and you're just days away from having everything you want. Loved that he changed the Apollo story to give it the happy ending he wants. Hopefully, that gave hope to any doomsdayers out there that think this show is going to end in tragedy. (Spoiler alert, it's not).

The only shame is that they have that nice (if not detached from reality conversation since they pretend they're not going to be together raising Kiraz) adult conversation about cooperating and working out how they're going to deal with Aydan and Ayfer, only for things to go totally off the rails during said conversations. As I said off the top of this marathon post, it was totally unbelievable in the context of the rest of the episode, but as I always say you can't take this show too seriously, and I prefer to just enjoy the situations as they come and not get too annoyed when they take these writing shortcuts to drive the plot. I plan on very much enjoying Eda and Serkan forced to live together while they're (or at least she) is still pretending they're not going to end up together. Looks like next week is another fun romcom romp, and I'm here for it!

#Sen Çal Kapımı #sen cal kapimi #edser #serkan bolat #eda yildiz #serkan x eda #sck episode discussion #edser discussion #sckask #sck 2x44 #sck 2x05 #asklizac #you knock on my door #love is in the air #anonymous

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jiikyu · 3 years

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Taste of Marigolds In Bloom

Herb of the Sun — Or Marigold was often used during the Middle Ages as a love charm. Carrying one of these brightly colored flowers was thought to bring love.

Though be warned for they are also poisonous.

Chapter III. Life moves fast and you’re not sure you can keep up.

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All characters are 18+

Yandere!Mirio x Fem!Reader(AΩβ)

Y/N = Your Name

F/N = Your Full Name

E/C = Eye Color

H/C = Hair Color

Warnings: Yandere / Unhealthy Behavior / Delusions / Angst

First Chapter Here❦ Previous Chapter Here❦ Next Chapter Here❦

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This whole thing started because of Mirio.

In the most uneventful way possible, like a passing comment about the weather he mentions that he lost his quirk.

“It would’ve been a piece of cake back when I had my quirk.“ The sunshine blond says while leaning back into the cushion of the couch.

It took you about a full minute to process his words and slowly your fingers had come to a stop, hovering over the laptops keyboard.

Mirio’s good at this. Springing things on you out of nowhere, though, usually it’s on a much smaller scale. Such as when he cuts through a conversation between you and a classmate, asking if you’re free to hang out after school.

But this? There are a lot of implications behind that one statement.

And even after everything, after he tells you in detail how he lost his power you’re left to just sit, utterly awestruck. He tells you how his quirk had taken years to master, how he trained every single day for over a decade. Your eyes fall to the many scars decorated across the skin his forearms, like badges of hardship, a reminder of the very thing he worked so hard to lose.

There’s no resentment, no pain to his confession.

The very idea shakes the foundation you’ve come to believe growing up in hero society.

“It — It really doesn’t bother you?” Your words betray you as they become a little wobbly at the last syllable and you’re sick, sick of becoming an emotional mess around him.

The waver in your voice has his attention trained fully on you, nothing but wholehearted worry in his eyes and a soft smile. Like always. And immediately you understand that it was a stupid question. He’s so radiant that you wonder how you ended up this lucky? Even if this only ever stays a friendship... You don’t deserve to have this.

“Are you sure it’s okay for you tell me this?” You ask, you need to make sure this is okay, that it’s not some obligation that compels him.

“Never once did I think it was something I should hide from you... I guess that just goes to show how much I trust you.”

Absorbing his words you miss the way a hand inches across the couches fabric, towards your own.

Or how he just barely manages to keep something else from falling through his teeth.

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“— What about you Y/N?”

Without warning you’re pulled from your daydreaming and back into the reality of the schools cafeteria.

Weeks have passed since Mirio decided to tell you about his past but... That doesn’t stop it from being at the forefront of your mind.

You’re still reflecting.

Your ears only catch the tail end of the conversation and for a moment you sit in silence. Racking your memory for an answer. Something. Anything.

“Who?” Undoubtedly, your voice doesn’t do much to hide the fact that your mind had been elsewhere and your friends eyes only sharpen in suspicion. Lifting your hand to point a finger to yourself in silent question. ‘Me?’

“You haven’t been listening at all!”

“Sorry! I was distracted.” You offer an apologetic smile before by reaching across the tables surface to the tray of food opposite you, stealing a sliced tomato from your friend and chewing it down. But it’s not enough.

You feel more than one pair of eyes on you. The crowded cafeteria table is well and alive with idle chitchat now it’s your turn to join in. It’s days like these that make you grateful for the creation of hormone blockers, you can’t even begin to imagine the concoction of pheromones wafting through the building right now.

“What was the question?” Please. You really don’t want them to ask what’s on your mind.

“What are you doing after school?” This time, the very person you had been dwelling on speaks up. Mirio’s seated next to you, and you curse the schools poor decision making. Plastic seats with little space in-between them, his knee knocks against your own every so often. So casual.

“No plans really, probably head home and —“

“That wasn’t the question!” Your friend interjects while swiping something from your own plate, you don’t even get to see what it is she stole. Too fast for you. “What are you doing after graduation!”

Graduation?

Of course you had given it thought... More than just some thought actually. But that doesn’t stop the very near future from being any less intimidating.

“I haven’t really decided yet. Who knows I might have to move back home, save some money.” It’s an honest-easy answer, one you don’t really put much thought into. You’re really not sure what the future holds for you yet.

“Oh you’re no fun Y/N.” Your childhood friend, an Alpha, wipes away a fake tear. She’s always looked out for you and you her. “We could be roomies in an apartment somewhere nice, like in the city!”

A chuckle escapes you at the idea, how you two would be a dangerous combination, and the conversation flows naturally. Between the ever changing topics and your own thoughts it takes a moment to realize Mirios been uncharacteristically quiet. Your E/C eyes turn upwards, pulling away from the meal before you to see...

Something you’re sure you could have ever prepared for.

You’ve never been the best at reading situations but... This? That brilliant smile is nowhere to be found and when his ocean eyes meet yours... It’s like you’ve wrongfully caught a glimpse through a two way mirror, you see what this man hides.

Hurt.

Your heart drops to the floor.

And you wonder what is it that could have upset him, the most selfless person you know. You could have sworn you saw his shoulders shake, if only for a second. He doesn’t let you look for too long, bringing a hand to lightly pinch your cheek.

“Aww don’t make that face Y/N!” In a blink everything is back to normal. Mirio’s smiling and it’s contagious.

You repeat the gesture, pulling on his own cheek in silent meaning. ‘Those should be my words.’

Though it’s too late, you’ve seen enough.

The future.

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Mirios stare burns into the skin of his palm — Or rather, into the tiny object resting within his grasp.

A pale blue pill sits, waiting.

The suppressant he’s been taking ever since presenting as an Alpha. In the other hand a glass of water, condensation beading down the transparent surface and soaking into skin.

Mirio Togata has never been afraid of the future, but then you uttered some careless words that were equivalent to being pushed into frigid Atlantic waters. Something that never once crossed his thoughts. That you might leave Musutafu.

That you might leave him.

It hurt.

He knows you didn’t mean for your words to cut so deep. He knows. But God... His mind won’t stop racing. Why hadn’t you told him of your worries? If you’re struggling financially you could always ask for help, ask him for help. He’s not sure there is anything in world that would make him happier than by making you smile. Maybe you are just being shy. The blond knows the two of you share something special, trust. So then, why was leaving even an option?

The poor man may be struggling to control the tidal wave of emotions that have suddenly manifested but there is one thing he is certain of, and that is — He knows you feel the same by the way you say his name.

And oh how he wants nothing more than to let this weed and grow, to protect what you both have. He can’t that do that if you move far away.

If he asked, would you stay?

What if he gave you a reason to stay.

Mirio doesn’t even realize he’s staring into space till the buzzing of a doorbell breaks his concentration.

And just like that the moment has passed.

In quick succession the blond tosses the tablet between his teeth and gulps down the sweating glass.

Swallowing.

A bitter aftertaste lingers against his tongue.

Waiting behind a flimsy door is the sign he needed, it’s blissful, because with the twist of a doorknob all of his worries melt away.

There you stand, umbrella in hand.

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It’s raining.

#mirio x reader #yandere mirio #yandere bnha #bnha mirio #there will be new warnings on the next chapters #this is a threat☺️🔪#ahdhsba jk #but not really?#mywriting

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oddlyhale · 3 years

Text

IronQrow Villains AU

Ironwood and Qrow as villains in the RWBY show AU.

Ironwood is based off of the Three Snake Leaves fairytale, a story about a man who revived his dead wife with Three Snake Leaves. However, reviving her only brought him betrayal, as she lost love for him and tried to kill him with her lover. Able to survive, the man went to the King and told everything the Princess had done. She was then punished with her lover to be drown in sea on a sinking ship.

Qrow is now based on The Juniper Tree fairytale, a story about a young boy who was killed by his greedy step-mother that wanted the inheritance he would get from his father. She killed him, cut him up and served him as dinner to his unknowingly father, and forced her daughter to bury his bones under a juniper tree next to his real mother. The boy became a bird, singing about his story and received three gifts from strangers that listened. He gave the gifts to his family: his father got a gold necklace. His sister got lovely red shoes. And his evil step-mother got crushed under a millstone.

In this AU, for Ironwood:

He fakes being a good headmaster, only to reveal his true identity once the fall begins.

He is a man masked under oxygen, for his first death caused him breathing problems.

His semblance is to revive the dead, however he tries not to use it often, as it causes him immense pain and can run his aura dry.

HIs goal is to find his wretched ex-wife and murder her for what she did to him (she’s not dead in this one.)

In this AU, for Qrow:

Qrow is a bit psychotic. Not theatrically insane, like Tyrian, but he’s on a level of kalopsia (delusions of seeing things more beautiful than what they are.) He is quietly energized by mayhem and distress.

His semblance is shapeshifter, accommodating by being handsy with building his own crazy weapons. HIs favourite weapon is a giant hammer made of millstone.

He plays the ‘nice uncle, playful drunk’ for a while, under the Fall hits. Turns out his ‘drunkard antics’ were just him covering up his manic laughters and bursts of rage.

He doesn’t try to kill Ruby or her friends, but he warns her to not come for him, or he will kill them without hesitation.

His goal is to live ‘beautifully’ and die in the deepest pit of bliss. By that, he wants to live to cause harm and art, and die a masterpiece himself.

About the relationship:

Ironwood and Qrow are married (James proposed.)

Qrow is utterly in love with Ironwood, as is James for Qrow.

James finds Qrow to be the most endearing psycho he’s ever met, figuring out how Qrow has a hidden humanity about himself, as he cares deeply for music and art.

Qrow was smitten the first time he met James, immediately wanting to be his.

The two men met each other years ago, back when James was to be happily wed to his queen. He was thrown off the ship by the crazy woman and her secret lover, nearly drowning, had it not been for the single loyal servant that saved him. James’ semblance unlocked that day out of panic, thoughts of dying only fueling his semblance to be released. His body revived itself, waking James on the raft that the servant was on, but the act left James badly injured.

The servant was weeping, both in joy to see their master was alive, but in horror as to what had happened to James’ body. His right arm, his right leg, gnawed off by the active sea beasts in the water. His hip was chewed at, nearly severing him in two. Despite being alive, the only thing his semblance couldn’t do was regenerate some new body parts. And yet James was conscious, despite the bleeding and pain. Alive and pissed.

His lungs were filled with water, only a dead person could carry so much. Once they arrived at shore, finding no persons in sight to help, the servant ran out to the land to see if there was any civilization nearby. James laid in the raft in pain, waiting for the servant to return.

Somebody finally came, but it was not the servant. It was a lithe and tall man with dark hair and pale skin, eyes bright red like rubies. He stumbled onto the beach after seeing the frantic servant run into the village nearby, curiously wanting to see what the fuss was about.

“My,” Qrow smirked down at James. “You look like you need a hand.”

James stared blankly at the man, as if he were incredibly unamused. Until he replied, “are you pulling my leg?”

Qrow couldn’t help but burst into a short fit of laughter. James did too, but not for long as he was cut short. His back was killing him.

“I can get you a new body. And some.” Qrow assured. “Come with me. I know somebody.”

“At this point? Fine.” James huffed. After being betrayed by his queen and almost eaten alive by sea beasts, he could hardly imagine this stranger could make anything worse.

Qrow took James to the Whale, to Salem. After some convincing, Salem allowed Qrow to let James stay, so long as he was the one watching their new guest. Qrow agreed happily.

Qrow’s story was only filled with pain. He learnt from a young age that he was never loved by his step-mother, and being left behind by his sister. His step-mother murdered him in his sleep, cutting him up and serving his flesh like he was grade-A beef. His soul took the form of a crow, fueled by the rage he had for his step-mother. He wanted her dead, and by luck, he met Salem. She granted him the wish to have his vengeance, helping him turn back into a human. He was only a little boy still when he met Salem, growing up to look to her as his new mother.

After killing his step-mother, Salem took him in and had been at her side since.

James was soon recovering, but his rage was building deep within. All he could think of was his wretched wife, who was almost successful in killing him. She knew he couldn’t swim. How the sharp teeth of the massive sea monsters would eat at his body. He was ready to kill her, avenge himself.

James’ internal injuries couldn’t be fixed. He had to constantly wear a breathing-mask to help inhale more oxygen that his fragile lungs couldn’t take in normally. It was pain, feeling like he aged 50 years, even though he was only 20 at the time. From what he learned, Qrow was also the same age, at least feeling comfort in knowing somebody his age was around.

During James’ recovery - while Salem was mildly interested in this loner - it was Qrow who was the most intrigued. He loved coming to see James, see his progress so far. A new robotic arm, a new robotic leg, and some new parts had to be added in. Unfortunately, it meant much of James’ lower-half had to be remade, Half of his waist was not salvageable, meaning he’d have to lose a hip and his genital area. James didn’t care, wanting to be fixed already, and out of the stupid medical bed. Wanting to be strong again.

Though, he made a joke about giving him a massive metal cock, barking out laughter when he saw Qrow’s reaction of giggling like an embarrassed old woman. But, his wish was curiously granted.

As James was back up on his feet and trying to adjust to this new body, it was still Qrow who helped him. To the others that were residents of the Whale, they were surprised at how much time Qrow spent with James. Knowing the guy, Qrow could hardly process empathy. He would laugh at burning houses full of orphans, and dance on a dying man while he’s down.

But now, he was the most gentle, tender and kind to this perfect stranger.

Would you believe it when this story ends with the two marrying? After knowing each other for 5 years? Well, that’s how the story went. The two men fell in love, not caring for how crazy their lives would become. James loved this psychopath. And Qrow loved this vengeful man.

James was quick to become compliant in Salem’s plans, to start a new world and have their wishes granted. What he wanted was that bitch of a wife dead, and anybody else that associated with her existence. He didn’t care anymore if they were innocents, they had to be taken out. Feeling the same pain he felt.

Qrow had no goals, other than to live and serve Salem. To be the perfect little dog and grant her every wish. But now, his devotion turned to James. He loved him to bits, and would kill anybody for him. Already, James had killed quite a few people for Qrow, and that was probably one of the most romantic things he’s ever received. The only painful thing he could think is to live a life without James. Even his devotion for Salem couldn’t keep him alive.

Despite their chaotic life, the two surprisingly had a well-adjusted marriage and relationship. It was contentment, understanding and fun. They adored each other the same way they first met, and it seems that their honeymoon phase never ended, after 15 years together. They’d have a wedding dance next to a pile of dead bodies if they could, and they’d still be completely enamored by one another.

During the years together, the two had begun building their false identities among the people. Qrow had contact with his family, still there as Ruby and Yang were young and had grown to attend Beacon Academy. Ironwood had stolen the identity of a previous soldier of Atlas, taking their place and soon becoming the headmaster and general of Atlas. Their appearance was nothing to be judged, coming off as noble and normal.

When the time came for Beacon’s Fall, Qrow was the first to act. After the death of Penny 1.0, he had gone to murder the others in the Beacon Vault. He was successful in killing Glynda, Ozpin and the Maiden (transferring her powers to Cinder who is still in the gang), but he pretends to have no success in killing Ironwood, giving false hope to the heroes that at least one of their own is OK.

After that, he went out to go kill some more civilians of the Academy. Ruby and Yang realized their uncle was part of the evil team, and are broken by the betrayal. Qrow was quick to dismiss them as his family, skipping off merrily back to Salem.

When time passed and it was time to arrive at Atlas, it would be Ironwood’s turn to betray the teams. While cooperative and kind, Ironwood legitimately had no remorse for any of the kids. Quite frankly he wanted them dead, as well as the Ace Ops.

#rwby #au #qrow branwen #james ironwood #ironqrow #they're villains and having a gay ol time

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manychocolatefactories · 3 years

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CatCF Ruby Chocolate: Part 1, Kids and characters

This version is the last of the "four main versions". It is named after the new, fourth type of chocolate discovered in 2004 but only publically released in 2017. It is a modern version, supposed to take place in the 2010s. In this version, there are six Golden Tickets released in the world.

First Winner: Augustus Gloop

(Based on: Augustus Gloop)

This version of Augustus was inspired by the 2013 musical, more specifically by the idea of a cute little boy that eats "pigs limbs from limbs", and also swallows whole little dogs. So, something quite dark.

Augustus has a very cute face. A chubby, angelic face, like the puttis of the Renaissance paintings: blond curls, puppy eyes, a radiant smile. If he wants, he can make your heart melt like the video of a little kitten purring.

But Augustus is hungry. All of the time. He eats and snacks all day long. He dreams of food. He sleep-walks to eat. And while he adores candies and chocolate, there is one thing he loves more than anything else: meat. Meat and blood. He is a true carnivore, for him every meal rhymes with "meat". And if you leave him unattended, he will try to get meat by himself. For exemple, by attacking a living pig and devouring it on the spot. Or by biting off the fingers of a plump woman. But, of course, all of that with a cute smile and while saying sorry in the most adorable way.

Nowadays, if your cute you must be innocent, and thus forgien.

Augustus' body is not as cute as his face. It is said to be a "bloated mass of pink flesh", actually very similar to the body of a pig. His fatness is described as "ill-fitting", as if it was "forced" onto his body. His overweightness is not natural. It is puffy, flabby, bloated, but doesn't feel "natural".

Augustus also always wear ill-fitting clothes and suits.

Mrs. Gloop is a tiny woman, usually wearing a pale pink skirt suit, with her hair arranged in a crown of braids. She might be tiny, but she is bold, energetic, and speaks both clearly and loudly. She has so much presence, she often intimidates people. She keeps reminding others of how cute her son, and how eating makes him grow strong. She insists that she is a good mother who makes sure her son eats of everything (to have a balanced diet), eats well (by giving him only the finest and best-quality products (such as the Wonka bars and not their cheap rivals knock-offs), and of course, she only feeds her son because he "needs nourishment".

And don't dare criticize her, or she will scream so much, so hard and so high your ears will bleed. Just like the "original" Mrs. Gloop, this one keeps pointing out the "hooligans", saying it is better to stay at home eating food than being a violent thug on the street. My iteration sincerely believes that violence and criminality is due to poverty, hunger and lack of food, and if everyone was well-fed the world ould be at peace.

(For her, think of Mrs. Gloop the original, mixed with Bernadette from the Big Bang Theory )

Mr. Gloop (full name, Gordon Gloop, parody of Gordon Ramsey) is the son of a butcher, and the grandson of a slaughterhouse worker. He was always knee-deep in blood, and as a result grew accustomed to killing animals and cooking them (in fact the sight of blood makes him peckish). He is a tall and strong man, but suffers from a bad sleep due to his wife's horribly loud snoring.

He tried to teach his son the refinment of haute cuisine, for Mr. Gloop is a world-renowned cook, but to his disappointment Augustus only cares for raw meat and drinking blood-dipped candies. Mr. Gloop is so obsessed with having good dishes and best-quality ingredients, he keeps at the back of his house a little barnyard full of cattle (if he ever has to serve some steak or ribs to his guests). Trouble is, Augustus keeps sneaking into said barnyard to devour the poor animals.

Second Winner: Elvira Entwhistle

(Based on: Veruca Salt)

Veruca Salt being a pretty solid and complete archetype in herself (the girl who wants it all and has her parents buy her all), it is quite hard to reimagine her. So, I tried thinking about "why" she wants things - given the actions are settled and confirmed, it is the goals that are important, the motivation. And , in our time of modernity, what makes people want things? Trends, fashions, what is "in".

This reinterpretation of Veruca, named Elvira Entwhistle (after one of the old drafts names), is a mix between Chanel Oberlin from Scream Queens and Esmé Squalor from a Series of Unfortunate Events. She is a girl living for trends, for fashions, buying and acquiring all of the latest things "in", only to discard them as soon as they are "out" or not trendy anymore. Spending her time on social media, following models and influencers, she keeps going to luxury shops with her "personal assistant" (a nice name for what is a modern slave) to buy accessories, jewels, clothes, pets and whatever corresponds to the current trend.

Spoiled, impatient, self-centered and short-tempered, she needs to have the latest fashion NOW or she will get insanely angry. She also doesn't hesitate to change her personal appearance to fit all the new trends (for exemple her hair changes color and shape every week). Of course, she got her Golden Ticket because it was the current trend. Everyone was searching for it, so she had to get a Ticket to be the most "in" person around.

Third Winner: Mike Teavee

(Based on: Mike Teavee)

For this version of Mike Teavee, I wanted to get away from the usual hyperactive and hyper-violent kid. I wanted to take back this common idea that television makes you stupid and sluggish, by making Mike the perfect embodiment of a couch potato (even though he was designed to look at the same time like a mushroom and a zombie).

Mr. and Mrs. Teavee are hard-working people, who spend their entire week working and only come back at home for very brief periods of times (usually in the week-end) before going right back at work. As a result, Mike barely knows his parents. He doesn't even know what kind of work they do. To "babysit" their son, the Teavees bought an enormous, high-definition television with a 666 channels pack, and kept telling him to not go outside due to the outside world being "dangerous" and filled with crushing bikes, killing cars, kidnappers and the like. This is how Mike began his life as a shut-in.

Spending his days looking at the television, never going outside, he ended up closing all shutters because light bothered him. Living in the dark, barely lifting his body from the couch, he only survives on candies, snacks, television-plates and microwaved/defrosted food (and the Teavee family can afford to buy a lot of it, because they are really, really rich - Mike has accounts in three different banks).

The result? A chalk-white boy. A bloated ans shapeless body. A full-moon face covered in craters and scars due to a bad case of acne. Two dead, sunken, small eyes. Speakin slowly, and often pronouncing only half of the words, Mike refuses to answer or talk to anyone while television is on : he only speaks during "uninteresting advertisements". The only thing muscular in his body are his fingers, that got a lot of muscle mass due to twitching frenetically all day long on the remote to channel-hop.

Mike is actually a very intelligent boy, but all his cleverness and intellectual gifts are buried and wasted by the brain-washing of his shut-in life and his television obsession. He got his Golden Ticket because his parents often buy him Wonka bars as "television snacks". Even though, in his own words, he prefers food that "tastes like plastic".

Fourth Winner: Violet Beauregarde

(Based on: Volet Beauregarde)

What is Violet, originally? She is a girl that seeks fame and attention, that is snarky, that is nasty towards people, and that does stupid records. What reflects that perfectly in our day and age? Reality television shows!

Violet Beauregarde was strongly inspired by the most brainless and "sassy/nasty" stars of reality television and the Internet. She is a teenage girl wearing clothes of such bright, flashy and clashing colors it often hurts people's eyes. Her face is covered in makeup, her hair is covered in extensions and her hands are covered with fake fingernails.

She thinks she can be as rude and horrible as she wants, as long as she calls it "sassy". But on the other side, she considers "rude" anyone or anything that doesn't please her, or that is too "ugly" or "dirty" for her. She is the kind of girl that keeps screaming loudly "YAAAAAAASSS, bitches!" and "DAAAMMMNNNN", that calls herself "the queen", that chews ferociously on her gum all day long, and that says "Why are you touching me? See, you're touching me again!" while she is the one hitting people. She hates everything "old" and "boring". She keeps publishing musical albums that nobody actually buys, because she sings badly mere words (her singles being titled "Lalalala" and "Heyheyheyhey" - she never understood a song needed to have lyrics). Finally, her biggest dream is to be part of a TV-reality show.

Her father, Mr. Beauregarde, feeds his daughter's "bitchy diva" attitude and her delusions of grandeur by acting as his agent (just like in the 2013 musical). He is also the "ringleader" of Violet's circus (because Violet, with her clothes of ridiculous colors, and her enormous amount of makeup, has a clown subtext). As a result, Mr. Beauregarde is like a ringleader in acircus, a showrunner in a freak show, and also an agent. He "sells" his daughter, he organizes her interviews, he has people pay money for "extra time" with Violet, he shows her around, and finally he uses his whip (yes, he has a whip) to attack all those that try to "touch the product".

He is a short, flabby and balding man, that smokes very long and thick cigars, wears enormous rings and clothes that are garrish and clownish - his over-the-top and ridiculous fashion sense is clearly a compensation for what he lacks in height, hair and health.

Fifth Winner: Marvin Prune

(Based on: Marvin Prune)

In the original drafts of Roald Dahl, Marvin Prune was a Mr. Know-it-All, a too-perfect schoolboy obsessed with studies, an arrogant bookworm, a haughty teacher's pet, you named it. In this version, i decided to keep the idea of Marvin being a "know-it-all", but instead of using school, books and the like, he rather uses modern technology and the Internet.

Marvin is a tech-obsessed boy. He lives for, with and through technology, to the point of neglecting to live in the real world. He thinks his over-use of technology, and all the knowledge it can provide him, make him an "intelligent" and "superior" boy (when in fact it does not).

He thinks he can claim to have been everywhere in the world because he visited virtually all the most important landmarks of the world. He claims he can speak all the languages in the world, but in fact he uses translation websites. He keeps tracks of all his bodily functions thanks to health monitors (heartbeats, blood pressure, cholesterole...) but not because he is concerned for his health, merely for the sake of knowing more things. For him, Googling something is the best solution to all your troubles, and as a result he is a self-centered and pompous boy.

Due to his technology dependance, Marvin is actually quite a weak boy. Since he doesn't do any sport or physical activity, and since he rarely leaves his house (due to always ordering things online, having classes online and visiting places virtually), he is a quite thin and frail boy, if not emaciated - at least, a good chunk of his muscle mass has melted away.

The original parents of Marvin Prune were, in Dahl's works, teachers and school principals. I decided here to go with the opposite of a teacher : Mrs. Prune never does anything herself, and always blame it on others. There are problems in the world? For her people should fix it, but they are too lazy to do it - while she herself does nothing about it. Her son acts rude? "Someone should teach him good manners" she says. She loses all of her money? "That's because the people in charge of the economy are all incompetent!"

Mrs. Prune thinks of everything and everyone as stupid because it allows her to blame all of her problems and flaws on other people. But ultimately she never takes any kind of action herself. If someone should teach her son good manners, it is "those lazy teachers at school", certainly not her! She also dislikes things that are "foreign".

Marvin found the Golden Ticket when he ordered by mistake a chocolate bar in France : in truth, he wanted to buy a "tablet" (in French a tablet is tablette, and a chocolate bar is also a tablette de chocolat).

Marvin will also be incredibly frustrated inside Wonka's factory, because in there numeric devices mess up, stop weirdly or disfunction totally (the same way UFOs tend to mess up phones, radios, computers and the like). As a result, he becomes powerless and helpless.

Sixth Winner: Charlie Bucket

(Based on: Charkie Bucket)

Here, I decided to really twist things up. To have a Charlie Bucket that isn't thin or malnourished, but fat! Yes, here's Chubby Charlie! (No, not Fat Charlie, this one is copyrighted)

Charlie's story is deeply linked to the story of the Wonka factory. The town Charlie lives in was built around the Wonka Factory a bit before the 20th century - it was a "worker town", created to allow the workers of the factory to live with their family next to their place of work. For more than fifty years the Factory was the only occupation and work of the town. But somewhere in the 1950s or 1960s, all the workers had to take an early retirement. They were kicked out, and the Factory closed to the public. The Factory was still working, but not hiring anyone anymore. This was an enormous blow to both the town's economy and moral. There was an economic crisis and poverty (since people were trained only to work in a candy factory).

But there was one good thing: since it was the town Wonka's products were created in, they were sold at must cheaper prices than anywhere else in the world, and all the ex-workers of the Factory got in exchange for their work coupons and reductions for themselves and all of their families - reductions on the Wonka products, of course. This was seen as a chance, because the Wonka products were world-renowned candies, even luxury goods in foreign countries. It was like being able to buy haute-couture as daily clothes and eat gastronomic cuisine every week-end.

But this good wasn't so "good". Indeed, given the poverty and lack of job in town, the ex-workers and their family relied more and more on the coupons and reductions, their diets filled with candy and sugary products. As a result, from the 1970s to the 2010s, the number of people suffering from obesity, diabetes and teeth problems blew up.

[ This background is actually a mix of two different real-world fact. Real-world fact 1: the Menier Chocolate Factory in France, aka the real-life Wonka Factory, was revolutionary for creating a town for its workers, and taking care of their health, education and the like, but closed after World War II, to the deception of everyone. Real-world fact 2: Coca-Cola, Nestlé and other big food industries tend to pay their employees with extra-sugary and extra-addictive if their own products in poor areas, such as South America - resulting in sicknesses and diseases.]

As a result, in this version Charlie is fat. Because in modern days, and in developped countries, poverty and malnourishment actually leads to obesity and diabetes, due to the cheapest food being candies and junk-food.

This version of Charlie is a very nice kid, but a kid addicted to the Wonka products. He grew up on the coupons, due to his family all being ex-workers. Grandpa Joe and Grandpa George both worked at the factory, but were too old or sick after being fired to find a new job ; Mr. and Mrs. Bucket had been trained for the factory and could barely afford new studies after its closing. Mr. Bucket became a street cleaner, while Mrs. Bucket became a receptionist and secretary for a dental office (due to the rise of tooth diseases, dental offices boomed in town, but most are actually crooked or scams).

Charlie grew up in a very humble home, with two parents working really hard to have enough money to buy food for everyone. Of course, fresh or good food is too expensive. Charlie tries to help his family the best way he can with his part-time job (making people fill surveys) and by working really hard at school. But as the years go by, his weight and his health are beginning to cause problems. Due to not having any money he can't do sports, wich makes him gain weight, and the fattest he is the hardest it is to do sport, it's a vicious circle. Every year, the scale reveals he puts on more and more weight, and faster and faster - if he doesn't do something quick, he may end up obese.

And, as I mentionned before, Charlie is truly obsessed with the Wonka products, it is an addiction. He dreams of them at night. He sticks Wonka bars wrappers on the wall of his room like posters. He drools at the mere mention of a Wonka bar. He isn't spoiled, cruel or nasty, but he is too addicted for his own good. In fact, when he finds money in the stret and buy chocolate bars with it, it is a pure act of selfishness, because he doesn't have the willpower to turn away from the candy shop and go back home.

#catcf #charlie and the chocolate factory #charlie bucket #augustus gloop #veruca salt #mike teavee #violet beauregarde #marvin prune

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ronnytherandom · 3 years

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I forgot to watch content all week so i wrote about games ive been playing

9/2/2021: The Truman Show

You should fear your fears but embrace them and use them to guide you into the unknown, to explore and experience what life has to offer. Fear stands between you and the fullest experience of life so you must pass through it to better yourself. Heed not the walls built about you and the chains made to hold you. Though the architects insist it will preserve your life, containment is anathema to life. Do not take in faith the benevolence of powers that be; instead trust those who would support and liberate you, guide you through fear and into life.

As best I can lay it out, I think this is the philosophy of the Truman show but there is so much more to read into it also. There is critique of systems of commodification and celebrity (i.e. capitalism) reducing human beings to a consumable good as well as encouragement to find and pursue your goals despite adversity and even sensibility which is also tied to the illusion of economic responsibility. You can’t put a camera inside a human head, you can never “know” them without being an active and intrinsic part of their life, but also there is need for reciprocation. If one half exists with ulterior motive then the entire relationship is rotten; sincere humanity is what creates real connections. Without such your world is fake. A world built around one person is a world where no one can truly live. All these actors have given up basically their entire lives for the sake of watching Truman have his life built around him by outside forces, have allowed themselves to be commodified and dehumanised for the good of one man, Christoph. The man at the top has delusions of grandeur and thinks only of his own bottom line, he cares not for his subjects but simply wants them to do as he tells them because it benefits him to commodify their lives and interactions. Even then he cannot stand to lose control and in seeking to demonstrate Truman’s “realness” he structures his life so thoroughly that eventually there’s no reality left, only a script and adverts. But the people watching still empathise with Truman because everyone in the working class understands what it is to be trapped because real life is our own Truman show and one day we must all pass through fear, step out of the dome and create a real life for ourselves outside of the system of commodification which consumes everyone’s life and removes all realness and sincerity and emotional catharsis from it.

I unreservedly love this film.

14/2/2021: Assorted Game Reviews

Horizon Zero Dawn (Unfinished due to technical issues, 45 hours inc. parts of Frozen Wilds): This game is really cool and really fun. I think it is defined by its incredible setting which somehow creates a fresh feeling post-apocalyptic environment. Said environment creates intriguing alt-future lore and some very interesting environments to explore. I love the machine designs (especially tallnecks!) and was very sad to hear one of their contributing artists passed away recently but I’m glad their work lives on in this visually stunning game. I’m a sucker for Ubisoft-style open world games simply because it tickles a certain kind of itch and somehow this non-Ubisoft game has outdone Ubisoft on their own formula, which is hilarious, but also good for me as running around this world exploring and clearing map markers is engaging fun. Not least because of the combat. I have a minor criticism here that the combat feels slightly awkward on mouse and keyboard, the arrows never seem to go where I’m aiming, but aside from that the experience of fighting is a grand one. Enemies never lose their threat and I love the weak spot system the game employs which makes every tool useful in niche circumstance and rewards curiosity. It specifically manages this in a way that I feel the Witcher series could learn from if it ever returns; by making head on assault less viable and encouraging tactical hunting. I do feel this system makes hunting robots so fun that by contrast hunting humans becomes a chore however, though I noted this improves in the dlc with the addition of humans with elemental weaknesses limited in number as they are. I cannot speak for the story in entirety but what I encountered was pretty good, though I feel as if it was only just really getting going at the point where I could not continue. I find Aloy to be a compelling and well portrayed protagonist and though I can guess about her origin and the ultimate end of the alt-future apocalypse I still want to see how it plays out on screen, so will return to this as soon as I’ve fixed it.

Rimworld (122 hours. Familiar with but do not own Royalty Expansion):

Rimworld is one of those super special games that I don’t think I have a single problem with. Fair warning it can be brutal and is heavily dependent on RNG but this allows it to create truly unique and interesting scenarios on a constant basis. In the wider perspective it could be described as formulaic, with regular cycles of managing the settlement between raids and random events, but the devils in the details. Colonist traits, health and skills dictate how you play and sometimes you’ll be forced to adapt as some colonists simply refuse to perform some tasks. The depth of health particularly amuses me, in that each little part of someone’s body is modelled in a way. If you’re in a firefight you may take a single bullet which grazes your finger and you’re fine. Alternately it could pierce your human leather cowboy hat, your skull and kill you instantly and the game will tell you exactly what happened. The risk/reward element is addictive enough, and that’s without accounting for just how cool it is to see your colony slowly expand. Establishing more and more options for crafting is fun and shows off the full range of different items in the game which is fucking extensive. Between clothing, weapons, armour, sculpture and drugs to name only a few you have the opportunity to create many varied production lines either for your colonists or to trade for money and there is a lot of fun to be had here as well as it is quite satisfying to see psychoid you have grown personally become the cocaine your colonists snort to help them stay awake on limited sleep. From an archaeologist’s perspective it is especially cool to look back over your base and see the hints of how and why structures were built and remember the history of your limitations and development through structure. I think the lore of the universe is really cool too, a very 40k-esque kind of place except with far less order, somehow. But the universe does an excellent job of feeling alive and moving constantly on both a planetary and interstellar level. You can fully believe that while you build wooden shacks to shield yourself from terrifyingly low temperatures there are simultaneously rich pieces of shit living it up on the glitterworld that’s one system over. The music does an excellent job of creating the wild west frontier atmosphere the game cultivates to great effect. Ultimately, for just being a grid with a series of different numbers attached, this game does a fantastic job of creating a compelling, brutal and very real colony management experience. I dont think I can properly put into words the grandness and scope of this one. I didnt even mention the modding scene, which is expansive and tailors to basically any need you could have. The Rim is a terrifying place but theres so much fun to be had.

Factorio (86 hours, mostly 1.1): Having completed a game of Factorio I can tell you reliably that this is one of the best games ever made, thoroughly addictive and fun. If you like numbers, logistics, TRAINS, its gonna be your thing. Not to mention its probably the only documented case of a game with no bugs (so far as official forums are concerned). Strictly speaking this games combat is not the most engrossing thing but good lord do you feel it when you acquire a flamethrower. The way each aspect of the game (production, research, logistics, combat, upgrades for everything therein) feeds into the next is a really well constructed balancing act such that you must experience the full game in order to complete it and I always appreciate this kind of design. I think its one of the best tenets of factory game design especially as its something present in Satisfactory too. Beyond all of this generalised good the game is also excellent in its intricacies, the architecture necessary to build a maximum efficiency base, the level of planning and organisation that can be employed is mind-blowing. Not to mention the mod community, factorion is already an extensive experience and some mad bastards have seen fit to complicate it further, hats off to them. This really is a great moment in gaming.

Destiny 2 (198 hours, all expansions, played some post Forsaken release, mostly Season of Arrivals onwards, spent roughly £20 on microtransactions):

This is a very interesting and enjoyable experience, but I must say it can be a bit controversial at times. What its does particularly well is moment to moment gameplay and design in all aspects. The game is stunning; between environments, cosmetics, shaders ships and ghosts there’s a vast range of incredible things to see, all rooted in the “pseudo-magi-science” aesthetic it’s got going on. The class design is excellent and you really do feel like you embody this rampaging madman / agile gunman / space wizard archetype, whichever you choose to play. The abilities, especially supers, are very satisfying. Everything has heft and power behind it which can be felt in all aspects of design; sound and animation is top notch. Movement is cool, you can feel how fast you move both on foot and in vehicles and the navigation has a little fun subtlety depending on your class jump, even if you can bounce unpredictably occasionally. But for the love of god why is the wall kick in there? It has only ever served to push me from a ledge into a bottomless pit. You're looking to remove antiquated content? Start there. Some guns are not so good to shoot but there’s such a great range of guns that are fun its like complaining about one drop in an ocean; and enemies are fun to shoot at, each faction distinct in meaningful ways and presenting an effective challenge. Speaking of oceans, that’s one way to describe the lore. I haven’t dived too deep but it keeps going down forever and everything I’ve read is intriguing. As a former Elder Scrolls lore nut this is something I could definitely sink my teeth into, though its much more of a pulpy sci-fi vibe than a pure nonsense vibe. I do think the game has a bit of a loot problem, primarily in regards to the conflict between high stats and looking good. This should never be a conflict, and yes you can apply ornaments to any purple gear but that’s not enough when I spend the entire time grinding power levels and thus must change armour and weapons on a constant basis to progress. This game needs a true transmog system and if not that, rethink how gear power level works. Perhaps rather than earning new instances of gear you always possess a version of it and the loot you acquire in missions just upgrades your instance to your current overall power level? This would serve to do away with the current upgrade system which I think is a needless additional grind. Perhaps it could be retained in using enhancement cores to empower gear as present but necessitating a whole upgrade module to keep your favourite weapon on hand is kind of painful honestly. There is also at present the issue of sunsetting gear, mildly controversial to say the least. If it’s necessary to streamline the game and make it function moving forward so be it but surely loot pools should be adjusted so you can actually get useful loot from older locations? And why sunset personal instances of gear which can be acquired at the regular power level anyway? I had to throw away my favourite bow and hunt down a new version of the exact same weapon for… what reason? I do think destination navigation leaves a little to be desired also. I get that having a physical hub world is meaningful but Destiny does not have a very extroverted community; I can count the times someone noticed me in the tower on one hand. And its not even like there’s fun activities to be found in the same sense as say Deep Rock Galactic, which really does take advantage of its hub. Perhaps for players who simply want to go about their business all of the vendors could be set into a menu system where just clicking an icon takes you to their menu from anywhere in the system rather than, per se, having to go through an entire loading screen (Which takes you to orbit and back) to reach a location which serves simply as the front for four menus. These are established player problems. As a dedicated PvE player I can say that this game is immensely fun in combat and growing in power does feel really good. It’s something I recommend getting into, there’s just some very large creases that need ironing which the Bungie should really take the time to address rather than pushing out new in game content every three months.

#the truman show #horizon zero dawn #rimworld #factorio #destiny 2 #d2 #film #movies #video games #i dont know what im doing #hzd #opinion

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checkerflats · 3 years

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Haven't been on tumblr in a long time. Felt like this was a decent place to write since nobody I know really uses tumblr anymore. I wanted to talk about my journey over the last few years and tumblr feels private enough a place to do so.

I moved to Florida 3 years ago (well as of this upcoming March) and at first life was decent. I tried to acclimate myself, stay healthy, positive, supportive, etc. At some point during that first year, I became incredibly depressed, nervous, anxious, overwhelmed trying to support myself (I did have a good friend group to help me) but down the line I had convinced myself I had a plan and that it was 'my plan, I thought of it' so instead of talking to the people I cared about and loved, I continued to try to do things in my own way.

A belief is a thought you have that you like. My belief was that I was the only one who could tell me what to do. And I never told myself to shut up and listen to people; realize they're saying what they're saying because they care. I became toxically selfish. I started judging my friends and peers opinions, being an asshole, being inconsiderate to everyone around me, unwilling to talk about my issues (and if I did I sounded like a narcissistic twat), etc.

To make a long story short, I resulted to drinking to cope with my overwhelmed thoughts and feelings. This isnt an excuse. It's just what happened. It in no way makes my behavior acceptable. In fact, anyone who knows me and how I act when drinking changes my thinking patterns would attest that it's only ever made anything worse. Even days or weeks without doing so, it affects me on such a negative level that negativity is the only lense through which I view the world and its inhabitants. I become the definition of nihilistic.

This led me to losing my friends, my loved ones, my job, housing, and ultimately respect from others and respect for myself. It was devastating and I did it to myself. After July of 2019 I started to refrain from drinking and honestly believed I had become the best version of myself. I got a new apartment, job, new friends who have still supported me to this day, albeit, upon making these leisurely friends who wanted to be wild, I felt I should--I wanted to participate. It was fun for a minute, and I was sober for about a month or two..

I'd begun to drink with them every now and then, never alone or at home, never two days in a row. I thought I could be a casual drinker. However, these friends and I stopped drinking for the most part, and begun to do a lot of acid (one thing I wouldn't say is neccesarily bad or addictive, in moderation) and a LOT of xanax. I started to learn a whole new meaning of 'fucked up' and went downhill faster than Jack and Jill could even imagine, baby!

By December, a friend and I decided we'd start doing cocaine. Fuck it, right? That got bad quick. It only lasted about 2 months on and off until we realized how crazy it was and that we needed to actually save our money (and sanity) so we stopped. By this point (March/April of 2020) I'd stopped doing everything other than weed. That inevitably led me straight back to drinking. This time it was everyday again, alone, at home, you get the point. When coronavirus hit I lost my job, couldn't find another anywhere therefore couldnt afford rent, was constantly in scary situations for 2 months (drunk), and decided it was best to GTFO and high tail it back to Ohio by May of 2020.

This took me months to realize, but I had so subtly slipped back into mass depression. Being back in Ohio, around triggers and friends who'd grown apart from me, I felt helpless and alone. I began drinking all the time. When I'd wake up, all throughout my shifts at work, at 2 am once the beers I'd had after work were buzzing off.. I was having the worst thoughts and feelings possible that I won't elaborate on because, again, I don't want to sound like I'm making excuses or even manipulating the perception of whoever might read this. I did this to myself. My behavior was absolutley unacceptable. I'd been put on probation for drinking, I'd been arrested for it even once in my own bed sound asleep (lets not go into how corrupt the law enforcement is in Mansfield, OH). The point is I'd broken the law and, regardless of the circumstances, the law is the law and it comes with consequences.

By October of 2020 I'd agreed that the best case of action was to go to a treatment center for addiction. The center was more or less a joke at first until a counselor committed to actually helping us started working there in mid-November. All in all being sober long enough to get back to a focused, rational, kind state of mind has put me in a euphoric state of content more so than any materialistic or temporary feeling that a substance or whatever else could bring me. Real peace is better than fake, self-driven delusion. I got released from the center today (1/13/21).

What I'm trying to get across is that if it wasnt for those who care for me after all the shit I've put them through, if I hadn't accepted I had a problem and my plan wasnt working, I'd still be that other guy. If you give up your ideals and listen to a 'Higher Power', (a 'God', a group of people as in power in numbers, a spiritual intuition that things happen for a reason and you agree you alone can't solve issues the same way you've tried 1000 times over and failed) whatever your view on that is, if you are willing to change and accept support you will be able to find genuine serenity.

That other guy is still in there. I have to continue working my program daily and catch myself if I slip up, be prepared to tell others, make amends (unless that would make things worse) and by all means listen to their advice in order to turn 4 months of sobriety (even from weed, but this is mostly about drinking) into 4 years, and so on. If you read all this (well first off, thank you, like.. golly!) and you are someone who knows me, then I'm sure that's hard to believe because everyone who knows me has heard me say before that 'I am quitting alcohol!' when in all honestly all those same people probably knew damn well I was just trying to convince them rather than myself and even if I did want to stop, I still had a desire to do it. That's where I can finally cut ties and announce that I, personally to myself, no longer have the desire for alcohol. Today. Right now. One day at a time. I despise it. It took my ambitions and spat them in my face along with my kindness, positivity, all my goals and loved ones like they all meant nothing and I am sick and tired of enabling that feeling. The world we live in is full addiction. Eating, technology, fame, money, power, caffeine, nicotone, sugar, sex, drugs, rock and roll--you get it okay? None of those will bring anything of substantial value or genuine joy. Being selfish will bring nothing but suffering. Be kind and loving. Love is salvation.

Once more, if you read all this, you're a saint and I thank you and hope your life, if not already, becomes (and continues to be) positive, peaceful and great. Love yourself, the best and worst. Face fear head on and never give up. Always lend a hand to those who clearly need it and if they turn it away like I did so many times, all you can do is hope and pray they'll get to the point of acceptance someday. I am so grateful for the oppurtunity I had to turn my life around. I am thankful for every single person who's come and gone and the help they offered before and after I actually admitted it was neccessary. I'll try and be of service to others when and where I can. Stay safe, world.

-cone

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boogiewrites · 3 years

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Never Break the Chain

Part 1 of 5

Characters: Javier Peña x OFC

Summary: The story follows the moments in their relationship in which things change, carrying the story of their romance from being young and in love in Texas at age 18 to the modern Narcos timeline. We follow Esme on her rise to being a top thief and Javier Peña's rise in the ranks. We see how their paths inevitably intersect in Columbia and how they handle coming face to face after a faked death and decades apart. It's dramatic, it's a cop loving a criminal and them being torn between their ways of life and their love. There's a happy ending among the angst.

Warnings/Tags: Argument, Heartbreak, Young love, faked death.

Click on my icon then go to my Mobile Masterlist in my bio for my other works and chapters. (Had to do this since Tumblr killed links, sorry.) Please like, comment and reblog if you enjoyed it! It helps out us writers A LOT!

The air was as still and silent as a hot Texas summer night could be. The buzz of the insects and the rustle and call of the nocturnal animals felt familiar to Esme and were a white noise that made her feel she was home. The moon was high and bright, illuminating the rushing and recently risen river below her. Summer storms had made their way through, a brief break to the smothering heat and filling the formerly waning river bed. It made for a great day on these rare summer occurrences, floating about lazily and working on her tan, drinks were plentiful between friends and you could let any stress you had floated down the river after you left. As she gripped the old iron railing of the backroad bridge, feeling the failing paint flaking under her anxious hands, she knew those golden days of youth and summer were falling behind her now. The river would take her trouble away tonight, but in the morning a whole new set would emerge in their place. Even so, this is what she wanted, deep down she knew the conversation she was about to have wasn’t going to be one with a happy ending, and she’d prepared for that. Still, until she heard the words from his lips herself, that last bit of naivete she had left would hope against hope that this night wouldn’t end in tears.

Her upbringing with a single mother, no stability that she could recall, and inheriting her mother’s reputation, only doing what she had to make a living, she knew there were no happy endings. Being a striking Latin woman, hell, a woman at all was enough to teach her the authorities in place were corrupt and broken. She’d been born a criminal they’d said. It was first said the moment she opened her eyes. “Look at this little one, a thief.” her father had said. “Esmeralda we’ll call her, as she’s already stolen emeralds for her eyes.” Her father hadn’t come from a line of fortune-tellers that she was aware of, but he’d unknowingly planted the seed that would grow to become her destiny. One filled with heartbreaking choices and world view shattering experiences she would be told she was strong for overcoming. She didn’t think anyone needed to be applauded for being strong. It came from being broken and filling the gaps with something that couldn’t be torn apart again. Her so-called strength was just the glaringly apparent failures of the power structures in place. And she knew the only way to get ahead, to move from outside their oppressive shadow was to beat them at their own game.

The boy on his way to convince her to not follow her dreams didn’t know that yet. He had his delusions and she wasn’t sure she had the heart to take them away from him. Things wouldn’t always work out, he wasn’t going to save anyone, let alone her. But if you asked her, she didn’t need saving.

The hiss of drying raining on the asphalt under the tires of his muscle car didn’t help distract him from where he was headed. Every rendezvous with her up to this point had been nothing but a flip in his stomach and tension in his balls. Where yearning and excitement once lay there was only dread and uncertainty. He was young, he was full of confidence and despite the chronic bad attitude and bloody knuckles, he kept he still thought he could make her stay. He wouldn’t lose her. He couldn’t. She loved him she’d said. That meant something to an 18-year-old boy still deep in his first love and soon to be last heartbreak. The flashes of running from the cops, late nights spent in the back seat of his car, some laying together next to the dashboard light with the radio creating a soundtrack to their youth unknowingly. He gulps, recalling the way she looked at him when they were alone. They were all burned into his mind and they would be there for many years to come. He couldn’t help but remember the first time he saw her, walking into an abandoned house the local kids used for parties. They held the same beer in their hands, locked eyes that held the hunger of teenage lust. Her in cut-offs and a bikini top, deep brown from the summer sun, bouncy black hair in waves falling down her shoulders and framing a heart-shaped face with eyes greener than he’d ever seen.

They were both attractive and rebellious, it took nothing to make them like each other. They were quick to go to bed, and he was quick to fall with for her independent nature, and his desire to protect her quickly fell in behind. She wasn’t like any other girl he’d met, and he thought it was a compliment. But as the lust faded, love grew in its place, seeing what hardships she faced and trying his damnedest to save her from them. He rode in on his steel horse and swept her away despite her insistence she didn’t need it. But when he spoke softly and touched her the same in the sweat-soaked leather seats, naked and vulnerable by both clothes and emotions, she couldn’t help but cry and let him hold her, both sharing their fears. Their biggest in their lives at that time was simply losing the other.

The familiar sound of his car didn’t help ease the knot in her stomach like it used to. She sighed deeply, letting the headlights fall upon her as he pulled up the bridge. No one ever said chasing your dreams would be easy.

“Hey sweetheart.” his smooth voice, soft only for her, flooded her ears as they closed the space between them instinctively. Her heart ached as he wrapped his scabbed hands around her waist, one rough palm to her cheek as if he were assuring he had her full attention.

“Hola, Javi.” she whispers against his lips. He does as he has before, pretending things are fine for as long as he can. Talking sweet and pushing back her hair, kisses to her temples like he always did when she was emotional. It was inevitable his lips would find their way through the small talk to her neck. And they did. “You know you can’t fuck your way out of this conversation.” she smiles, taking her hands to direct his face to look at hers.

“Worth a shot..” he nods with his signature cockiness she no longer found annoying but endearing. A dangerous feeling indeed.

He looks her over, hands gentle but firm as he ran them over her arms and sides, mapping her out in movements that would drive him to drink later on.

“I know your answer, mi Amor, I see it in your eyes. Just say it so we can move on.”

“Don’t make me Esme.” it wasn’t begging but there was a desperation to his furrowed brow as he looked down and finally met her eyes. “I told you what I have to do. I can’t stay here. I can’t be this girl anymore.”

“I don’t wanna lose you, baby, please.” There was the begging. The desperation was in those almost black-brown eyes as they glassed over, the lump in his throat growing by the second.

“You cannot go be part of a system that wants to enslave me. We can’t be together in this world, Javi. You KNOW this. You can’t be the cop and I the criminal. No way works. One of us ends up in jail...or worse.”

“You’re talkin' like you wanna kill me now all the sudden.”

“Never.” she holds his face with a veil of anger in her eyes. “I love you, Javier. I always will. But you are a weakness. You are the only man that knows me. The only man that could best me. And that is because I love you. I have to be who I am, I am a criminal and you are going to go off and be a part of what wants to keep oppressing people like me? Just because we are trying to get ahead? To make a life for ourselves because your government has failed its people? We can’t be together if you do this.”

“You don’t have to go off and do all this crazy shit, Esme. You’ve been reading too many books, baby, you don’t have to go off and steal and con. You could stay here. With me. Where you belong.”

“And do WHAT exactly? You want me to...work in an office? Be a cashier at the grocery store for the rest of my life? You want me miserable? That’s selfish and you know it. I’m not something you get to control, I’m not keeping myself small for you no matter how much I may love you. That’s a fate worse than death for a woman like me.”

“Not any part of you wants that? A simple life? With a good man? Have a few kids...a house. Just...be happy?”

“You are not stupid Javi, stop asking stupid questions. You know me better than anyone and you know that is not me. I will grow bored and loathsome, I would end up hating you and my choices and we would end up hating each other. I would rather us be in love in our memories than hate you in reality.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Yes, I do. Because I see it every day. In the women that glare at me when I walk down the street. The jealousy...they look down on me saying I am trash but it’s because they wish they had what I have. Drive, ambition, fucking OPTIONS. Those women are trapped by their decisions and I will be too if I stay.”

“You think staying with me is being trapped?”

“It is not you, Javi. It is what you will become. I love this..this Javier right now. But you be indoctrinated. You’ll change into someone else and I am not willing to change for you. I’m sorry.”

“I knew I shouldn't've let you hang out with those damn hippies…”

“This is all me Javi. This is no one else. You are the one being fed lies of being a good guy among the bad, that you can save everyone. It’s a lie. I do not want to tell you this because I know it’s your dream to help but mi Amor ...it is not real.”

“And I don’t think your dream is real! I think it’s a lot of horse shit.”

She stands in silence looking at him, his hands on his hips defensively. “Then we agree.” she nods. “Goodbye, Javi. I love you. Always.” she begins to turn and knows before she feels his hand around her arm that it would happen.

“Don't leave Esme you’re the only good thing I got.” he shakes her by the shoulders.

“And if you don’t think I feel the same you’re mistaken.” she almost spits out. “I do not WANT to leave. But to become what I must I have to. And I’m sorry it has to be this way. But it does.”

“If you leave I’ll find you. You know I will. I’m not gonna let you go. I can’t.” he chokes out.

“I know.” she sighs. “Which is why I must take such a drastic measure. To me... staying is a fate worse than death. I know you would find me.” she chuckles and he looks at her with wet confused eyes. “You are my weakness, Javier. You are the only man I know that could ever find me. Ever best me at my own game. And you will not stop looking for me.”

“I never would.” he whispers.

“Which is why I'm so sorry. So.... so sorry mi Amor.” she begins to cry and kisses him, pressing against him hard, his back hitting up against his car and a muffled struggle to embrace one another ensues.

There’s a swift movement and click. Javi’s head jerks to look down, arm tugging against the cuffs she’d just slipped on him and through his vehicle door. “I’m sorry Javi. I am.” she says as his anger grows.

“ESME?!” he barks. “Let me GO! Are you fuckin’ CRAZY?”

“Maybe.” she sighs and walks a few paces away, to the railing of the bridge, looking down at the water. ‘There is only one way you will let me go Javi. I cannot have you being my weakness, or my capture, or my pursuer. I would spend my life looking over my shoulder.”

“What the FUCK are you talking about?!” his voice breaks, a shout scaring the animals in the brush nearby.

She stands on the railing, wind through her hair and a feeling of true freedom being just outside her grasp. She hears him struggling behind her, the desperate grunts and whimpers, his words and shouts join the shite noise of the water as she closes her eyes. She turns only her head to meet his wild eyes one last time, a snapshot in her mind to carry with her into her new life. “I love you, Javier Pena. Never doubt that. I’ll see you in the next life.”

And with that, she was gone. Over the railing as Javi screamed until he was hoarse, his wrist fractures and bruised from the force of trying to free himself. It would break him, and he would be born into a new life. Just like her.

She knew it was drastic, but the only way she would be able to escape not only his love of her but of hers for him. He had to think she was dead.

@likedovesinthewnd @jaegeeeeer @biharryjames @ladamari68 @past-romantic @weliketomoveit

#Javier Pena #Pedro Pascal #javier pena x reader #Javier Pena Fanfic #javier pena fic

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greasygyeom · 4 years

Text

Title: Blame it on Me [Part II: Where Do We Go From Here?]

By: GreasyGyeom

Summary: what is someone supposed to do when they have to choose between the love of their life and the career of their dreams.

Word Count: 9.2k

Yugyeom x Reader / Angst, smut (kinda)..more angst. (i use noona but just pretend it’s y/n)

Warnings: Mature content please read only if 18+

Author’s Note: i am back after two weeks this is a character development guys. hope you like part II !! if you do leave an ask or write in your tags. i love hearing from you guys! tell me if it made you feel something. if there’s spelling errors, let me know hahaha. love you guys and thank you for reading.

Read Part I here

Your night burnt by slowly, filled with explanations and fake acceptances of congratulations that everyone showered you with; that you had no interest in. The only reason you stayed awake was because you were hoping Yugyeom would actually come back. Little did you know he’d been so drunk BamBam had to let him pass out on the couch and keep a bucket right next to him; because if drinking had taught him anything, the amount Yugyeom had, he was bound to throw up.

You, poetically so, had also passed out on the couch. It was hard to believe that in the afternoon you were in a relationship, getting fucked out of your mind and by night you were single, bawling in your living room.

Still, he had to come back at some point, it was his house after all. How was he going to go to work without his clothes? BamBam for sure wasn’t going to let him stretch out his T-shirts.

Hanging onto that hope, you prepared breakfast in the morning, which unfortunately sat out cold until noon, while you face timed your best friend and let out all your pent up emotions.

She advised you to not hang onto the hope of him wanting to be with you for a few days extra. It wasn’t fair to him, because everything said and done, you were leaving. If there was a way around it, you would have done everything within your control to get that promotion without the transfer. Unfortunately the path you were going to take had been set in stone by your company. There was no space for any alterations left.

You didn’t want this to happen but really, what else were you expecting. This was never going to have a happy ending from the start.

Last week you’d wanted him to act like a douchebag so you could be bitter and cop out of being hurt over having to break up with the best guy you’d ever known.

You finally understood why ‘be careful what you wish for’ was such a self-fulfilling prophecy.

After your long distance chat, begrudgingly you got dressed for the office; even though you didn’t have to really go officially—you were off until you started at London next Friday—there was some paperwork that needed your signature. You wanted to get it over with so as to spend the next few days peacefully crying in bed.

Half-heartedly walking to the train station, you wondered if you’d even crossed Yugyeom’s mind since yesterday.

Maybe it was a bit selfish, but you wanted to know if he was thinking about you; or was it just you that was miserable.

He was.

Of course he was.

While he chugged a bottle of water, because his mouth felt like sandpaper, all he could worry about was how you were going to pack all your belongings in such a short amount of time, without forgetting the most important stuff; and how he was going to not lose his sanity over it.

Ominously so, life had come such a full circle for him; because had your colleague not been a student at the academy, he would have never met you.

The work-life that brought you to him, ultimately took you away too.

Funny how the universe works, right?

He’d drank so much alcohol the previous night in hopes of forgetting you that even an hour without your face swimming in his head would have been worth it. Yet, all night all he lamented about was how unfair it was that he was going to have to let you go.

His friend circle–that over time had also become your friend circle–had been made aware of the whole ordeal, so they knew what to expect. They were just surprised by the magnanimity of it.

Yugyeom had never been heartbroken—at least to this extent. In the 10+ years of knowing him, he’d never expressed so many emotions in such little time to any of his friends. It was like witnessing a compressed pack of cocaine burst under high pressure; messy and not a good look for anyone.

When he woke up he already had a text from Jaebeom very sternly asking him to not come in to work until he got his shit together, several texts from Mark asking how he was feeling and to start hydrating his body immediately, and a whole essay from Jackson on how he should drop his tough guy act and be with you till it was time to go.

He hated being called out like that.

Yugyeom: Hyung you’re supposed to be my friend and tell me I should forget her immediately. His text elicited an immediate response.

Jackson: Listen you brat. I’m your friend that’s why I’m asking you to spend the last few days she is here with her. Because I know you and you’re going to regret this later.

Yugyeom: Tell me, how does it matter if she’s out of my life today or after five days?

Jackson: You won’t even try to stay in touch?

Yugyeom: No.

Jackson: Is that a mutual decision?

Yugyeom stopped replying after that, because now that he was sober, he was back to not being able to aptly express his feelings and he actually didn’t know the answer to that question.

He’d thought about this so much yesterday, while in bed next to you. There was no expiration date on your time in London, there wasn’t even any guarantee that after London you’d come back—you could get transferred to anywhere in the world. That particular uncertainty had torn his heart into smithereens and had led him to end the relationship so abruptly.

It had seemed logical yesterday.

Today? not so much.

You’d zoned out staring at a travel bag while window shopping. After your work was done you thought of giving retail therapy a shot, an endeavour that was proving to be extremely unsuccessful, for the lack of focus you were carrying with you.

A loud, screeching, honking bus on the road snapped you back to reality, but not really. You were still dazed and confused and within seconds wanted to go back home, wondering why you thought this was a good idea in the first place.

You did buy three pastries and a venti on your way though, to devour your feelings once home. To discover that you’d forgotten how you lived life before Yugyeom and not understand how to combat it, was definitely taking a toll on you. The concept of being without him seemed so outlandish, it felt like a distant dream you might have had in your childhood. For now, until you found a way out of this maze, unhealthy coping mechanisms would have to do.

Truth be told, you were itching to call him. When it came to him, your ego was barely existent.

You were still plenty mad and wanted him to realise how stupid he was for not taking you up on the offer last night, of course, but you also wanted hear his voice equally badly, at the cost of him being unwilling to entertain you.

You had been postponing your urge every hour, since morning, because this time around you were reluctant to lose this battle; even though you’d already lost the war.

At 9am it was ‘Wait for another hour, maybe he’ll turn up.’ At 10am it became ‘Maybe I’ll stop by the studio’– but that was too much effort (and you were in no mood to face Jaebeom). When you were leaving for work, you baited yourself by saying you’ll call him after you were done at the office and currently you were convincing yourself to wait till you reached back home, so that at least when he ignored your calls, you could cry into a cup of tiramisu and feel better about it.

That thought was more comforting than it needed to be.

This awkwardness of not being able to wiggle your way into his life this time, was eating you inside, honestly. It’s not that you’d never had disagreements and fights before, where he’d left for Bam’s because he was too frustrated to even talk to you—in spite of him indulging his anger to a bare minimum, there had been plenty of those. But this was the only one time where saying sorry and promising to buy him chocoshakes for a week wasn’t going to cut it.

Along your route home, you bought more food—a full loaf of strawberry bread from the train station, some chips and a sandwich at the convenience store, a slice from the pizzeria nearby and finally your favourite fried chicken. Clearly, you had a lot of feelings to chew through and some days of solitude to chew them.

You hadn’t anticipated the struggle to get your apartment door to open, with all those packets hanging on your arms, trying not to spill any of the contents. What you also didn't anticipate was Yugyeom opening the door from inside, asking you to hand over some of the things you were holding.

You felt your system shut down like windows 98 being attacked by a trojan.

Was this real? Was this a delusion and you'd really just dropped everything on the floor?

“Yu….gyeom?” You called out, afraid of not actually hearing an answer.

“Why are you still standing outside, noona?”

“Oh-uhm-I….” you fumbled, before closing the door. “This.. is-uh?? Hmm-what-what are you… doing here?”

“Honestly? I don’t know.” He replied curtly.

You furrowed your brows accompanying it with frown lines on your forehead, indicative of the confusion you were unable to convey verbally.

However, you chose not to question him further, not wanting to go wherever that interrogation would have taken you. You were more than content to see him move around at close proximity, even if it was in silence.

There were plenty of places he could have gone, really, he didn’t have to be there if he didn’t want to; but he did want to. Oh god he’d wanted to see you so badly. More so than the hangover, it was a bizarre feeling in his chest, from the way he’d behaved with you last night, that had caused him discomfort all morning. That and Jackson’s messages.

Was he really not even going to try to keep in touch? But then….. who likes to stay in touch with an ex?

“Want some cake?” you asked, in an effort to dissipate the elephant in the room. “Or some other food? Pizza? You look like shit, you should probably eat something greasy.”

“You went and bought the whole shop didn’t you?” he raised his eyebrow.

“I… did not. I was….. craving a lot of things.”

“You know, the only times you’ve bought so much food is when you’re sad about us fighting over something.”

“Well—I am sad,” you paused, “and we are fighting ... and this one seems to be the last one.”

“For now” he added and then immediately retracted his statement

“I’m...I don’t know why I said that. I shouldn’t have said that.”

“Yugyeom... baby,”

When did you even get close enough to do that, he wondered, as you cupped his face.

“I’m really sorry.”

“It’s not your fault, you know?”

He put his arms around your waist and pulled you into a tender hug, because if he looked into your eyes any deeper he would have either kissed you or teared up; and neither was a good option to choose from.

“Noona will you promise me something?” he then asked, his words heavy and morose.

“Hmm?”

“Please try your best to forget me.”

You weren’t expecting that sentence to knock the wind out of your lungs, because you weren’t expecting to hear that sentence at all.

You broke away from him, tears accumulating against your will.

“Did you come here to hurt me, Yugyeom?”

It felt like a sword was now ominously hung above your head, when you looked at him; and it could fall at any moment and sever your head.

“Don’t take this the wrong way. I just…. I don’t know. Don’t hold onto some irrational hope or something. That’s all I meant.”

“Irrational hope? Really, of what? Getting back together someday? You wanna get rid of me and move on so fast that you want me to forget you? Is that it?”

“Don’t twist my words. That’s not what I meant. You know that’s not what I meant.”

“You think I don’t understand that this is the end for us?”

“Just ... leave it, I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“Yeah you shouldn’t have.”

“But I don’t want to be the reason you hold yourself back in London. That’s all.” He yielded, not wanting to make matters any worse.

“You know what…. I was wrong to think it would be a good idea to pretend like nothing’s changed until I get on the plane. You win.”

The anger in your tone and your deadpan face made it very clear that you were not interested in holding a conversation about this, any further. “I’m gonna go start collecting my stuff. I should be out of your apartment and your life, by tomorrow evening.”

Before Yugyeom could react, you slammed the bedroom door shut and locked yourself inside.

One second later he was banging on the door frantically.

“Noona! Come on, open the door please.

Please, baby!”

He must have stood there trying to rotate the knob, begging you to let him inside, for at least fifteen minutes before giving up and sliding onto the floor.

This was turning out to be worse than his worst nightmare.

If he knew you at all, he knew you would want to come out to smoke soon. So he sat by the door, getting annoyed at himself for saying that and at you for taking it out of context.

Before coming here, he’d asked for Jinyoung’s opinion on whether this was a good idea or not; and Jinyoung had replied asking him to not do anything foolish. He had assumed Jinyoung meant going to his house to meet you was the foolish act. Dejectedly, he typed a text.

Yugyeom: Well…. I should have listened to you. I went to see her and you were right, it was a bad idea.

Jinyoung: when did I say that was a bad idea?

Yugyeom: you said not to do anything stupid

Jinyoung: yeah, I meant don’t go there and mess it up. I didn’t mean don’t go there at all. What did you do?

Yugyeom: oh…. nothing.

Jinyoung: I can call her and ask.

Yugyeom: No! Fuck. please don’t do that. She’s already pissed at me.

Jinyoung: what did you do

Yugyeom: I asked her to move on

Jinyoung: huh?

Yugyeom: I don’t want her to get hung up on me and us and the maybes and what ifs when she's there. Because I know she will.

Jinyoung: and what about you? Are you going to try your best to forget her?

Yugyeom paused and stared at that question for a few minutes. No…. of course not, how could he want to forget you or anything about you. Even if every memory attached to you dug into his organs like shards of glass, he’d gladly take them all to his grave.

Yugyeom: she doesn’t need to know if I do it or not.

Jinyoung: I’m glad God gave you the gift of dance because clearly intelligence and common sense are completely lost on you.

Yugyeom: hyung i'm really not in the mood to be insulted right now.

Jinyoung: Jackson asked you to drop your tough guy act didn’t he? She doesn’t need you to protect her. She’s never needed anyone to protect her from anything. You should stop trying to save her from whatever it is that you think you’re saving her from.

Yugyeom: I’m not trying to do anything. I don’t want her to regret going to London.

Jinyoung: How is asking to forget you a solution to that? Say hypothetically she does forget you. In a years time she doesn’t give a fuck about what you meant to her. She meets someone else and starts dating, maybe even gets engaged. Would that make you happy?

Yugyeom: No. But she’ll be happy.

Jinyoung: that’s your problem. You’re assuming that forgetting you and finding a new life would make her happy.

Yugyeom: Well won’t it? Idk I just don’t want her to be hung up on us and if she gets stuck on it, I don’t think she will be.

Jinyoung: You just said you don’t wanna move on so then why the fuck are you forcing it on her?

Yugyeom: hyung she doesn’t need to know how miserable I am. Without knowing that whenever she sees me she apologises to me. if she gets to know how much I want her to stay I’m scared she’ll turn down the promotion. She’s already thought about not going.

Jinyoung: let her make her own decisions? Right now you’re lying to her. I’m 95% sure she’s pissed because you’re trying to act unfazed by all of this.

Jinyoung: Just this one time, try to not bottle up how you’re feeling.

Jinyoung: tell her you have no interest in moving on. Be honest, man.

Jinyoung: and just saying, asking the ‘love of your life’, who calls you ‘the love of her life’, to forget you after 12 hours of breaking up is a shitty thing to do. She should have kicked you in the balls.

He typed up a stingy reply to that but, before he could send it, the sound of you unbolting the door from inside distracted him. Hurriedly, he stood up, to catch hold of you.

“Yugyeom, leave me alone. You got what you wanted?”, you spoke frostily.

“Are you going to smoke?”

“Are you going to stop me?”

“No.. But I wish you’d hear me out. Let me say my piece and if you’re still pissed, I’ll leave. I promise.”

After opening the window sill and lighting your cigarette, you waited for him to start. Your face was red and hurting from crying so incessantly, but you were determined to not let your emotions get the best of you, in front of him. At least, not right now.

“When I asked you to forget me, I didn’t mean… you know, erase me from your memory or whatever. I meant give yourself a proper chance at happiness, when you’re there.”

You gave him no expressions.

“Like… I’m not dying to move on. This is killing me. I don't want us to come to an end. I even thought of giving long distance another shot… or like you know….maybe just keep in touch. But every time I thought about it, it was too painful. So I couldn’t ask you to do that because I…. didn’t wanna do that.”

Saying that out loud made him realise how selfish he sounded. He continued his monologue when you wordlessly stood still and puffed away.

“I wanted to pretend like this isn’t hurting me, but I’m so miserable, noona. I don’t know how to live without you. I don’t even want to know how to live without you. But, I want you to live your life without me; which is hypocritical, I guess, but that’s why I asked you to forget me.”

“That’s really fucking unfair.” you interrupted. “You’re planning things for me without asking what I want. That’s not how it works. If I want to move on or not, is my decision. If I want to be miserable over you or not, is my decision. If I want to live my best life in London or not, again, is my decision. I have never loved anyone like I’ve loved you, Yugyeom; so what you asked of me was just cruel. I know I want to live in a fantasy until I have no option but to accept the outcome. I know it’s not a good way to deal with things. How could you even think that forgetting you would ever be an option?

“I’m sorry” he pursed his lips and looked at the floor.

“When I said we have five more days, I wanted to play pretend. I was just trying to live in this denial bit longer.

“Then… can I live in that denial with you?”

“No, I’m sorry, I gotta pack and hand over the house to the owner by tomorrow.”

“I’m sure the owner will understand if you’re delayed by a day or two or four.”

“I’m tired of running around in circles with you man”, you sighed. “No matter how this turns out, I will never not love you. Maybe in ten years time you’ll be with some other girl and I’ll be with some other dude, even then I will probably, in some capacity, still love you. And I get it if you don’t want to feel the same way, you don’t have to. But don’t ask me not to.”

“Thinking about you with someone else really fucking hurts.” he admitted, feeling a knot tighten in his throat.

“It hurts me too but you’re the one so fucking adamant about moving on like it’s gonna happen in 2 days.”

“Are you still angry?”

“Yeah, of course... but I can let it slide if you promise to forget about me.”

“Haha very funny.”

You chuckled and he wasted no time in giving you a kiss on the forehead.

“The only thing I can promise you is that I’ll love you till I die.”

“No one is dying, baby.”

“Without you, I just might.”

“Jaebeom won’t let that happen, you’re the second reason his studio has clients.”

“What’s the first?”

“Jaebeom, obviously.”

Yugyeom rolled his eyes at you. “He’s going to have to be the only reason, till next week because I’m stuck to you till you get on that plane.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“I’m not letting you leave that room for the next 100 hours, starting now.”

He didn’t give you much time to process his words, as he picked you up to take you into the bedroom. You tried to fake-protest to the best of your capabilities, but truth be told there was no better feeling than hiding your face in the crook of his neck; while he effortlessly carried you in.

Making his intentions for the night perfectly clear, he took off his shirt.

“Wait-wait-wait!” you yelped, pinned under his lithe form. “All the food is on the table, I'll be damned if that Tiramisu goes to waste. I’ll be back in five.”

“Make it three.”

“Okay baby.”

Then you kissed him on the nose and ran out.

Since your last reconciliation, you'd spent most of your time in bed, mostly without clothes, wrapped in Yugyeom’s arms; savouring every kiss, every touch, trying to save these ending moments in your memory, so you could replay them over and over again at the end of this week when all this would inevitably be over. Your departure was three days away and the fact that you were still unpacked was beginning to weigh down on you heavily. You were at a point where you couldn’t really avoid it any more; even though it was antithetical to the denial you’d built your cozy house in.

As much anxiety you had regarding leaving and not wanting to deal with that, there was an equal amount of anxiety related to not being prepared ahead of time. It was a lose-lose situation either way, with consequences that weren’t susceptible to change. So, you decided to rip the bandaid completely, to avoid running around like a headless chicken at the last minute.

You didn’t have to deal with the furniture, at least, because even though some of it was bought together, Yugyeom owned the apartment. You just had to sort through your clothes and products.

He wasn't the most excited at the thought of seeing you empty out the house.

“Do you know your living situation in London?” he asked, trying to hold up a conversation.

“Yeah…they’re giving me a furnished apartment as part of the deal.”

“Wait no rent?”

“Uh-huh”

“Woah that’s amazing.” The lack of excitement completely contradicted his statement. “And who’s gonna help you set up and stuff? Won’t you need help?”

“Uhm... mum’s already gonna be there when I land. Not at the apartment, obviously, but…. in London.”

“Aah. Ok ok. It’ll be good, you haven’t seen your parents in a long time”

“Hmm I guess.”

“And your visas and shit?”

“Yeah my passport’s with the company, they’ll sort it all out and hand it to me on the day of the flight.”A

Yugyeom felt like he’d accidentally stepped on an emotional land mine.

He was already gutted about seeing his closet empty, and now hearing your monotone voice just upset him even further. But he didn’t want to show how sad this was making him either, because then you would probably cry.

It was really frustrating.

He quickly made up an excuse to leave for a bit. “Is it okay if I go to the studio, Jaebeom hyung needs me to sort through some assessments. But if you need me to stay, I’ll tell him something.”

”No, it’s okay. I have to face time Ishi anyway. I haven't spoken to her in a hot minute. And Jae has been more than patient this past week. I’ll try to be done soon too. It’ll probably take me 4-5 hours.”

Oh.

“I’ll definitely be back by then.”

“Or… maybe I can meet you at the station and we can go to Naksan?”

He gave you an affirmative forced grin, kissed you on the forehead and headed to the studio to redirect all the aggression he was so suddenly full of.

Just knowing that you’d be leaving a giant gaping hole in his life, was driving him nuts. He wasn’t sure if he could keep up his end of the bargain any longer. You at least would get to start over a new life, in a new place with new faces. But he was going to have to pick up pieces of his life that he knew you were about to leave behind shattered; and never look back at

Your fragrance lingered in every corner of his apartment. His bathroom smelt like your shampoo, his closet smelt like your body spray and cigarettes, his bed.… how was he ever going to exorcise your memories out of his bed? His king size bed that had not seen a dip on the right side up until you had waltzed into his life. Everything was going to remind him of you. His favourite restaurants, clubs, hideaways—it was overwhelming him.

“Aah fuck” he mumbled to himself, absent-mindedly walking into the studio - much to Jaebeom’s surprise.

“I thought you weren’t coming in?”

“She’s packing. I’ll break something if I have to sit through it.”

“Don’t break anything here.”

“Maybe my bones.”

“The third room is empty.”

He was barely going to be able to concentrate on whatever choreography he was going to try, but he acknowledged Jaebeom and locked himself inside.

Jaebeom also felt rather incompetent to handle the situation, since he’d never seen this volatile and mostly upset side of Yugyeom. So he just let the kid do whatever he wanted to. No one knows what to do until you actually start doing it, right? Jinyoung would probably disapprove of this philosophy, but he wasn’t there to voice his objections, so too bad!

When dancing, Yugyeom barely ever understood the concept of time, so between choosing a song, researching some new styles, to mentally animating the possible formations, 4 hours flew by. He yelped and hurriedly ran to his phone, hoping he wasn’t already late.

You sighed heavily at the other end of the call “no... I’m still working through the pile. It’s probably going to take me two hours more.”

“It’ll be too dark to go to Naksan then.”

“Yeah…. I guess. Just come home?”

“It’ll take me some more time at the studio though.”

“That’s okay, take your time. It’s a mess here anyway.”

“Hmm… I’ll see you later then, noona.”

And he went back to focusing on perfecting the new moves, even harder than before, because otherwise your voice would keep ringing in his ears. He could hear how disheartened you already sounded and he wanted to be there for you, but he had to take care of his own feelings first, before he could take care of yours.

He didn’t know he could feel such a foul mood, but that’s what his days had recently been made of. All he’d done was get blackout drunk, fight and then fuck; this wasn’t a routine he recognised at all.

It was almost nine in the night when he entered the house, fully expecting to see you still having a rough time with a mountain of clothes next to you. Surprisingly, he found you passed out next to an empty cup of coffee.

He peeked inside the bedroom and his eyes immediately went to the two giant suitcases stacked in the corner and a cardboard box balanced on top of them.

His closet now housed his bare minimum collection of T-shirts and sweatpants and the bathroom was entirely stripped of its former glory. It was depressing. He took a quick shower and considered slumping onto the bed, knowing full well he should wake you up and make you eat something.

Who was going to feed you actual healthy food in London, with him not around? Because if you had it your way, you’d call a bag of chips dinner and call it a day.

He tried with everything he had, to not care about it and went back into the bedroom, fully determined to go to sleep. Perhaps it was his frustration towards the situation that was garnering such a petty reaction. But then he thought about it for five minutes more and felt like an absolute asshole. Why was he taking this out on you? It’s not like you deliberately caused it. It’s not even like he wanted you to stay for him.

He shook his head almost aggressively, as if trying to physically shake off the bad thoughts and went back out, to do what he actually should have done as soon as he came home.

You’d fallen asleep in the most haphazard position; your head resting on your arms on the kitchen island top, and your body stretched out on the chair. It didn’t look comfortable whatsoever.

He nudged you gently, “noona?”

You barely even stirred.

“Wake up, baby”. The butterflies he gave you, at such close proximity, made you open your eyes.

“What time is it?” you groaned, lifting your head the slightest bit.

“It’s almost 10.”

You did a little cat stretch. “Did you just get back?”

“No... it’s been a bit, I took a shower and everything”.

“Oh… okay. I was planning on taking a bath too” you trailed off, yawning through the rest of the sentence.

“I’ll make something for us till then.”he replied, thinking about what they could eat, but his chain of thought was disturbed by a phone call.

“Oh hyung, yo.” you heard him say. His energy seemed so low.

“Wait right now? I don’t know hyung.”

Inquisitively you tilted your head and he handed you the phone. The quota of patience he had for the day was very low.

You could see Jackson’s name on the screen and you greeted him accordingly.

“You wanna chill here?” You repeated, simultaneously gesturing to Yugyeom about his thoughts on the matter at hand.

He shrugged indecisively and you came to the realisation that you hadn’t actually thought of when you’d say your final goodbyes to Jackson, or in fact anyone else except for Yugyeom; so now seemed like as good a time as any.

“Yeah cool, how long will you take?”

With his patience running on thin ice, the man standing in front of you frowned, but you pretended to not notice it. Instead, you stretched and headed for the shower, avoiding his gaze. Yugyeom’s energy was all over the place and you were lowkey glad you wouldn’t have to deal with it by yourself.

You thought about planning your day tomorrow and meeting at least some of the people you cared about. What you hadn’t expected was Jackson bringing most of those people to you.

Half an hour after the phone call, your living room was at full capacity. It wasn’t even that many people honestly, just your usual hang-out group - a mixture of your and Yugyeom’s combined friend list, but your living room looked full.

Yugyeom was even more displeased than before, but managed to hide it by holding onto a bottle of beer, like it was crucial to his existence.

“He didn’t say he was coming with…. everyone.” You sheepishly expressed.

“It’s fine. At least you get to meet most of your friends.”

“Yeah I guess, i was just thinking about it.”

You get distracted by a hand on your shoulder, “thinking about what?” Bambam asked

“Meeting some people before leaving.” You repeated.

“Ooh depressing.”

“That’s one way to look at it.” You gave him a deadpan stare, unimpressed by his poor timing.

Yugyeom took the opportunity to wander off to his other friends, most of whom were gathered around the table of food, in front of the TV.

Some random nonsense movie was playing that Mark and his girlfriend were really invested in. He considered sitting next to them but he was not sure when they’d start making out, so he parked himself next to Jaebeom instead. His head was heavier in that moment than it had been in the morning, when he’d left. He couldn’t leave right now though, Jackson would beat his ass.

So he settled for eating silently and drinking slowly, in his little corner.

Meanwhile, you were trying to keep up a brave face. Jackson had already repeated himself at least thrice, saying how much he was going to miss you and it was getting more and more difficult to hold your tears.

Taking a large gulp of the wine you had in your hand, you told him you were going to miss him a lot too and gave him a partial hug.

There was no scope of hiding from the reality of the situation anymore.

Two days later no one in this room was going to physically be a part of your life. Just two days. All you wanted to do was find Yugyeom and bury your head in his chest, like the ostrich that you were.

You took in some really deep breaths and poured yourself more booze, in the hopes of turning it around and becoming chipper.

Inevitability should be accepted or else life begins to feel like a drag…. no?

Alcohol made it a lot easier for you to bury the sadness that came with your unofficial ‘bon voyage’ celebration. A part of you was also suddenly scared to approach Yugyeom. You studied his face carefully, discreetly, while seated on the couch. Get togethers usually made him hyper, yet here he was looking into his phone like he was studying for a phd degree.

Even though there was an overwhelming urge to go and talk to him, you decided against it. If he wasn’t feeling some type of way, he would not have isolated himself like that and you knew you were partially to blame for it

You indulged in more cocktails, talked to your friends and somewhere in the middle of all this chatter, Jackson, for the nth time commenced a relay of toasts addressed to you. Really on brand of him to talk about his feelings like that but because you were caught so off-guard you started crying.You weren’t prepared for this kind of emotional haranguing.

Yugyeom hated every minute of it. He didn’t want to hear over and over again that you were leaving, or see you cry. He should have declined Jackson’s proposition when he had the chance to, but now he had to deal with long speeches almost all of which included him too. He felt his lungs constrict like he was about to drown. Jaebeom gave him a comforting pat on the back and passed him a new bottle of soju.

From time to time he looked at you but avoided eye contact. He knew he should have been next to you, hugging and comforting you, he just couldn’t bring himself upto the task. It was that same resentment he had felt earlier today that made him respond in this fashion. All he wanted was this night to end and for everyone to leave. But then again, maybe this was better because he didn’t have to be alone with you.

You cried for a good hour while everyone told you they were going to miss you. There were long hugs and accelerating levels of inebriation involved. You promised to text everyone back because at that moment you had no proper words to say and you wanted to tell them all so much.

By the time you crossed your threshold of tipsy to near blackout drunk, it was almost daybreak. The sun was just beginning to peek at you from behind the mountains.

Yugyeom was in a worse shape than you, so Jackson and Jinyoung decided to clean up a bit, as your parting gift; trying to rope in Bambam in.

“No way. I know what’s coming after she leaves. I deserve a break before donning my emotional clean up crew role.”

“Don’t lie, you’re both just going to drink.”

“Yes and drown him in his sorrows. This is how you clean out emotions. He’s gonna drink and cry.”

“That’s the worst way to deal with anything.” Jackson rolled his eyes

“Hyung…. you work out and write music, he drinks and dances. It’s not really all that different.”

“It’s not the same either though. If I feel something I don’t carry it with me. All he does is let it eat him until he forgets it or explodes.”

Can you debate about this later and help me carry him to the bedroom?” Jaebeom interrupted.

Jackson handed the empty bottles to Jinyoung and got to the task of shifting Yugyeom’s large body from the couch.

“Just him?” Bambam asked

“I already tucked her in,” Jaebeom replied. “We should get out of here soon.”

“Yeah, I still have to go to work. Can’t believe Youngjae and Mark left me alone.” Jinyoung complained, trying to make as little noise as possible while trashing the garbage.

With a lot of difficulty, Jackson was able to plonk Yugyeom on the bed. Jaebeom studied you both before heaving a sigh. The peaceful look on your faces was not an accurate testament to your respective behaviours prior to passing out. But there wasn’t anything he could do about it. He kept a trash bag and a bottle of water each near your nightstands before leaving.

At least he could hope that when you wake up, you’d feel better.

... You didn’t.

The splitting headache you were experiencing was really on another level when combined with your sandpaper mouth. Thankfully things were conveniently placed around you because if you had to walk to the kitchen to drink water right now you'd rather die of thirst than get up. Your attention turned to the man next to you, his porcelain skin tempting you to kiss him or at least stroke his face, but you resisted.

You finished the whole bottle and gently lowered yourself back into the bed, lying awake with throbbing pains radiating from various places.

Yugyeom made a cute sound in his sleep, making your heart jump. It was nearly impossible to not want to scoot closer to him. He hadn’t given you a hug in all of twenty four hours and you were already about to lose your mind.

How you were going to survive without him was really beyond your comprehension.

You just lightly touched your fingers to his palm and closed your eyes, hoping you’d fall back to sleep. The next thing you knew he had one arm around you and was pulling you into his chest; aligning his body with yours. His soft breaths landing on the back of your neck, making you shiver.

“Feeling okay?” He asked in his hoarse, morning voice.

“Hmm…”

You could feel his lips moving against your skin as he spoke, making you melt in his embrace. Your heartbeat accelerated and he held onto you even tighter.

Melancholy hung in the air, much like Christmas decorations in December; he could feel it. Your legs intertwined and he heard a faint sob.

There was nothing he could say that would change the atmosphere. It was time to burst the bubble, so he let you cry, and he cried too.

Head buried in your back, he whispered, “noona…. please will you leave a hoodie of yours with me?”

You nodded and kissed his hand.

“I love you.” He said and the both of you went back to sleep.

It was almost evening when he finally woke up. You weren’t in bed anymore, his head was hammering to a tune of it’s own, in spite of having medicated in the morning, and his body was craving water. Staggering, he made his way to the kitchen and found you in a semi-messy situation with cooking paraphernalia all over the counter.

“Oh? What is happening here”. It sounded like he was concerned but he was really only a bit confused.

“making some sandwiches.”

“Suddenly? Why? We could have just ordered.”

“Yeaaah I don’t know, just felt like it.”

He smiled, because you looked so cute in that apron. His mood was foul but looking at you made it better. He chugged some water while you emptied the pan and he was overcome with the urge to hug you.

You were caught off-guard when he put his arms around you, but you reciprocated his gesture. It was difficult for you to look him in the eyes because you weren’t sure if, for the hundredth time, you'd end up crying. He cupped your face and nudged you to see him, the sincerity in his face…. all the love he wanted to shower you with right then.

He kissed you slowly, taking his time to taste the light traces of your strawberry lip balm. You didn'’t know what spells he used to get you turned on so fast. Threading your fingers with his hair, you deepen the kiss. The urgency that took over him was maddening. He wanted you right now, which he made abundantly clear when he slipped his left hand under your T-shirt and began caressing your boobs; his other hand gripping your hair and pulling it sharply.

There was air caught up in your lungs as he kissed your neck, like you’d temporarily forgotten how to breathe. Low moans began to escape your lips and you squeezed your thighs together. You were so wet, just with his mildly aggressive kisses.

He knew what he was doing to you when he felt your lower body clench and both his hands slid back down to grab your butt.

The kiss got sloppier as your focus dwindled to his boner, your fingers already caressing it over his sweatpants. He bit your lip in response, pushed you against the kitchen island and aimed to remove your clothes. You were still in your flannel and shorts from the night before, so he fumbled a bit on the buttons. His accuracy was failing him because you weren't stroking him over the sweatpants anymore; he could feel your hand sliding over his skin, purposefully slow and tender. His eyes were barely open, your lips were still locked and he was trying to get you naked without actually seeing what he was doing. He grunted helplessly when you touched the tip of his cock. Wet sounds of you stroking his length, mixed in with his shallow breaths and moans, filled the kitchen.

He nibbled on your neck, as your movements accelerated. With your non-dominant hand you tried your best to remove his sweatpants, but he stopped you.

“Turn around.” He whispered, pulling your hand away. The way he seduced you with his demanding voice and bedroom eyes, you gave in without a fight. You bucked your hips and grabbed the closest edge of the marble top. He bit your neck, gently sucking at the skin caught between his lips, until it looked bruised and then he moved on further down, while dry humping your ass, one hand firmly placed on your waist. A small gasp escaped your lips when his fingers slipped inside your panties. Automatically, you spread your legs wide, to let him access the delicate parts.

He could smell your shampoo mixed in with your intoxicating scent and it was sending him over the moon as he played with your wet and sensitive clit.

“Good girl” he praised, when you pushed your ass further into his boner, craving to feel it bare.

You hummed, his thin and long fingers dancing to the tune of your arousal. He fingered you slowly and deliberately, and it was excruciating.

It was the last time he was going to get to feel you. Tomorrow you'd be gone. It made him angry and sad. It made him desperate.

You could feel his aggression in the way his lips collided onto yours with force, the way his nails dug into your skin, the way his body was stiff and wrapped around you in a solid cage.

His hold on you tightened and he spun you around again, to face him. He wanted to make sure you never forgot how he made you feel; so that no other man would ever be enough for you because he set that bar up so high. He wanted to spoil the idea of being pleased again by anyone else, for you. Maybe it was toxic to think that way, but he was already letting go of you.

He had no choice but to let go of you. The train of thought he'd gotten on made his brain short circuit and switch off. He wasn't aroused anymore and everything was blurry and confusing. Before he could stop himself, he took a step back.

“Don't leave me, noona.” He said in a small voice, looking at the floor.

The words crash on you like a violent wave.

You wished he'd stayed looking at the tiles, because when he looked up, you felt the guilt of having accidentally run over a puppy. There was sadness and shame and anger and you didn't know which emotion to address first.

“Yugs….”

So many words swirled in your brain but your lips were sewn shut.

“So, I guess that's a no.”

“What are you trying to do, Yugyeom?”

“Oh well, It was worth a try.” He chuckled, rather bitterly.

What else was he expecting would happen.

Life is not a movie scene; the girl doesn't quit on her career for the boy, in real life. But was it valid for him to feel the sting that persistently worsened as you two stood opposite each other uncomfortably? He knew this was going to happen. He chose it with you. Hell, he chose it for you even. While he was trying to rationalise his own resentments, you straightened yourself up and started putting the buttons of your shirt back in place.

“I don't know what you want to hear from me, Yugs. You know I don't want to leave you. And you don't want to come with me.”

Shit, that stung him even more.

“I have to leave for the airport in 12 hours so do we have to be like this?” You asked defeatedly.

He shook his head and you extended your arms, waiting for him to fall into them.

“I'm really sorry we have to end this way.”

In his experience, there was no safer feeling than being held by you, but right now it was the root cause of all the knives ruthlessly jammed in his chest.

Nonetheless, he hugged you and exhaled pure agony.

“I'm gonna go take a shower. Maybe afterwards, if you feel like it, we can go get some drinks?” You asked cautiously.

“Yeah… I’d like that” he lied, as he let go. Truth be told, he couldn't look past the multiple ‘last times’ anymore. The last time he could hug you, the last time he could fuck you, the last time he could hear your voice… he couldn't do any of it. He didn't want to do any of it. He didn't want this for the last time. He heard you close the door to the bathroom and started fixing his appearance however he could, grabbed his wallet and phone and headed out. If he stayed in that house for a second more he felt he'd choke and die. He was trying to run away from the toxic fumes his own thoughts were emitting, and there was nowhere to hide from them, so he tried to leave them behind.

His brisk walk turned into a sprint and then he ran as fast as he could towards the subway station. And just like that he vanished into the sea of anonymity, nowhere to be found.

Four hours had gone by since you'd come out of your shower to a deserted house and a singular message from Yugyeom. “Sorry noona, I can't do this.”

it felt like a cruel déjà vu.

His phone wasn't reachable. Bambam had no idea, neither did Jaebeom. You were much too confused to react in any appropriate manner.

“He left” You said to Jaebeom, who was equally confused and infuriated.

It seemed like you'd already connected the dots as to Yugyeom’s unavailability but a part of you was holding onto some hope.

“I'm sure he's gonna show up dude.”

“I have to leave in like 3 more hours. He wouldn't have left if he planned to show up.”

“He's definitely not at Bam’s?”

“Jae…. unless I was being lied to, he's not there. And i don't think Bam has any reason to do that.”

“Okay. Keep me posted.”

“Yeah” you sighed.

You were neither angry, nor sad and you had good reason to experience both those emotions at once, but the way your brain had switched itself to autopilot, everything had just become a matter of necessity.

You tried Yugyeom’s number once again, and weren't even surprised anymore when you heard the automated switched off message.

While scanning the room your eyes fell upon your suitcases and your heart dropped 6 feet further than where it was already at.

You had to leave soon.

The silence had already been gnawing at your sanity, now it was overpowering guilt because if you had just said no, none of this would have happened. If you had just said no to the promotion. If you had tried harder for Seoul. If you had chosen to stay when Yugyeom asked you to, then the chain of events would have been different. Maybe, if he'd not run away from this whole situation you could have figured out a solution. But he wasn't here and you were running out of time.

A high pitched buzzer cut through the atmosphere, giving you a jump scare. For a second you thought maybe it was Yugyeom, but why would he need to ring the bell.

You saw Jackson's silhouette in the little alarm system by the door and sighed.

“You look so unhappy to see me.” He huffed, when you greeted him dryly.

“Gee Jackson, sorry I'm upset about Yugyeom literally bailing on me when I have to leave in an hour.”

“Wait what? He's not back?”

“No…..i don't know where he is.”

“And he's still not answering?”

“I tried about 50 times, it's off. Anyway, how come you're here?”

It was comical how distraught you were internally and how inept you were at translating your emotions externally. The way you were talking, no one would think you were in this sad sad situation of leaving your life behind to start a new one.

“You don't remember asking me to drop you off?”

“Was I drunk?”

“Well…. tipsy maybe?”

“I was definitely drunk. I don't remember any of it. But, I'm glad you're here.”

“Are you…. packed?”

“Yeah, I just got the last batch of clothes I need to shove in.”

“Cool. You have anything to eat?”

“I made some sandwiches in the evening. Have at it.”

You were trying your best to be normal. A few minutes later Bambam and Jaebeom arrived as well, both without any worthwhile news of Yugyeom.

“I'm gonna kill him when I see him.” Jaebeom raged.”this is very childish.”

“It's fine man…. i know why he just vanished. It's okay. I'm not mad.”

“Bro are you…. Hearing yourself?”

“Very clearly. He was never good with confrontational emotions. He didn't want to see me leave so he left. It's not rocket science.”

“You went through your stages of grief really fast with this one.”

“I didn't have an option.” you looked at the three of them sitting around you “So…. are all of you taking me to the airport?”

“Yeah, duh.” Bambam countered.

“Okay then wait for me in the car, I need to say bye to the house.”

“And you can't do that in front of us?”

“Would you rather get uncomfortable watching me cry?”

Honestly, you were just prolonging it, the actual act of leaving. You felt so heavy when Jaebeom rolled your suitcases out. In passing you looked at your two favourite hoodies you'd left on the bed and it took everything out of you to not have an emotional breakdown right at that moment.

It was difficult, leaving was difficult especially without Yugyeom. You were in denial of your feelings but you were so angry at him but also so sorry towards him, your emotions kept cancelling each other out. You just wanted to hug him one last time and get the closure you were hoping to get but he took that option away from you. In your three year relationship, this was maybe the most cruel he’d ever been with you. But it was over now. This chapter was done, even with all of its loose ends.

You took your time saying your final byes to three of the most important people you'd met in Seoul. It was quite impressive that you didn't burst out in tears, even when Bam and Jae almost did. There was a part of you that was distracted by a hope that he'd be at the airport to see you off. When he wasn't at the main gates, you hoped he'd be there at check-in. While walking towards your departure gate you kept an eye out, hoping to catch a glimpse of his smile. You just wanted to say goodbye. But he never came. You sat glued to your spot, because what if he did try to find you and you weren't there. You boarded your flight at the very end. You gave an imaginary him all the imaginary chances you could, to materialise and tie a neat ribbon around your life in Seoul.

But your flight took off and the last shred of hope you had snapped and so did you.

Because life isn't a movie. Just like the girl doesn't leave her career, the boy doesn't run through the airport either.

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