#writing commission

[psychedelic-ink]

ㅤㅤㅤ✦ 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐎𝐔𝐕𝐑𝐄

ㅤㅤmarcus pike x art historian!reader

genre: mutual pining, friends to lovers, forced proximity, smut, minors dni,

word count: 6k

summary: when a famous art collector is murdered, circumstances lead you to be temporary roommates with Marcus Pike.

warnings: oral sex (marcus receiving), marcus getting spoiled, some very mild angst, idiots in love

a/n: this work was commissioned by the lovely @sevillagrenada! thank you so much for your support and thank you so much for this delicious idea, I had a blast! ❤️‍🔥

** dividers made my the talented @saradika-graphics 💜💜💜

Another day, another handsome detective at your doorstep.

It’s been a few months since you and Marcus first got acquainted. He had visited you during one of your busiest hours, asking you for information on a recently stolen painting while you were desperately trying to sort out a curated disaster by one of the interns. It didn’t end well. You ended up shouting at him to leave you alone and even though you regretted your choice in showing how distressed you were, it was what it was. What surprised you later, however, was finding him in the early morning hours with two coffees and blueberry muffins. He apologized profusely and asked for a do-over. Something that you were more than eager to oblige. 

And the rest, what most art historians like you would say, was history. 

Now he visits you almost every morning if he can. Thanks to his charm, you were now considered the number one go-to person of the FBI when it came to art theft. A title you didn’t mind having. 

“A bit early even for you, don’t you think?” you say, handing him the folders you’d been carrying. You smile as he lets out an exaggerated “oomph” and go to open the door. “Don’t be a baby, detective.” 

“I just wanted to see you, what’s the harm in that,” he answers, following you inside. “I have the day off tomorrow so I won’t be visiting.” 

“How thoughtful of you.” 

“Good to see that someone appreciates it.” 

He takes a seat as you head for the coffee machine. You’d got it a month ago, saving Marcus the trouble of waiting in line every morning before work. You appreciate having this as an excuse for him to stop by every morning. Luckily, the museum was on his way to work, meaning he was more than happy to visit you. Sometimes it’s hard to forget that this relationship between you two is meant to be nothing other than friendship, a platonic thing. But every day you find your heart swelling more and more at the sight of him. It’s been too long since you felt close to someone. It’s been even longer since you ached for a person you know you shouldn’t ache for. 

“Are you working on something with Remedios Valo?” When you turn you see him hunched over your desk, his eye meet yours, a sheepish smile tugging at his lips. “Sorry, all these books were just sprawled here. I couldn’t help but look.” 

The coffee machine comes to life, the aroma mixing in with the scent of books. 

“That’s alright,” you answer, lips feeling numb. “And yeah, Olivier is adding one of her works to his collection so he wanted me to take a look.” 

“Which one is he buying?” 

You know he absolutely despises the idea of art being bought, hidden from the rest of the world to be a decoration. You hear it in the drop of his voice.  

“Les Feuilles Mortes.” His gaze falls back to the table. “Dead leaves. The one with the woman with orange hair and green dress.” 

He hums when he finally sees it on the page, “It’s a nice one.” 

“It is. It’s one of my favorites.” 

You bring the two cups of steaming coffee. His eyes find yours as you place them down, taking a seat. “You must be excited then,” he states. “To be seeing it in person.” 

“I’m just happy it’s going to someone I know will take care of it.” 

“I did meet him once. Seemed like a decent enough guy.” 

A soft chuckle escapes your lips, “You really hate art collectors don’t you?” 

“With a passion,” a soft smile touches his lips. “But I’ll make an exception for you.” 

You shake your head, smiling into your cup as you bring the steaming liquid to your lips. He’s always like this. Making sure just how much you matter, making you feel cherished, it’s a contrast to how you feel most of the time. Your eyes fall on the painting printed onto the glossy paper. Everyone interprets art differently. In this particular piece, you see loneliness but also a peaceful serenity. The shadow bowing to the woman, them being connected with a piece of blue yarn that she’s holding. The fact that it’s blue and not read also piques your interest. It makes you think it’s not something that is forced, it’s not the fates that brought them together but something else. Something more intimate and free. 

“So, when are you seeing this stunning artwork in person?” 

“Tonight.” 

Marcus already knows that today is going to be a long day. 

He knew it as soon as he entered his office, all fellow agents gathered in one place, murmuring. They parted like the Red Sea when he came through. That’s when the captain told him that extinguished art collector Olivier Balmaceda was found dead. Murdered. 

All he could think of was you. How excited you were to see him, and the painting, tonight. How Olivier was your friend and what would this mean for the investigation? Everyone here knew you, adored you. You being close to the murder victim certainly wasn’t good. He didn’t want you to be involved in any way, not even as a consultant. 

He steps out of the unmarked FBI sedan, his leather shoes echoing against the pavement as he approaches the crime scene. His partner, Tim, follows suit, both agents taking in the scene that awaits them.

The art collector's mansion looms before them, an opulent testament to a life steeped in appreciation for creativity. The air carries a faint scent of antique wood and the unmistakable aura of the art world. As they enter the expansive gallery, it becomes clear that Olivier Balmaceda's passion for art extends far beyond mere aesthetics.

The crime scene, bathed in the soft glow of gallery lights, is surreal. Olivier lies in the heart of his sanctuary, surrounded by the very beauty that defined his existence. The juxtaposition of life and death against the backdrop of artistic brilliance is haunting.

Tim glances at Marcus, a silent acknowledgment of the gravity of the situation. Together, they navigate the intricate dance of art and tragedy. The paintings, sculptures, and tapestries bear witness to the final act of a man whose life was intricately interwoven with the world he cherished.

As Marcus approaches Olivier's lifeless form, he can't help but feel the weight of the art that envelops them.

The art collector's mansion is cloaked in an air of somber anticipation as Marcus's focused gaze is drawn back to Olivier's lifeless form, nestled among the artworks that had once been a source of joy. The forensic team, adorned in pristine white suits, moves with meticulous precision, weaving through the crime scene like careful curators preserving a delicate masterpiece.

"Bullet entry at the back of the head. Looks like a single gunshot," Marcus hears one of them say, his voice a measured cadence amid the artistic silence.

Marcus nods, absorbing the gravity of the information. The team proceeds, each member contributing to the careful orchestration of documentation. His path takes him to the abstract painting, now surrounded by the scrutinizing eyes of forensic experts.

"We're scanning for any hidden messages or anomalies. This painting could hold clues.”

"Keep me posted," Marcus replies.

His attention turns to the delicate sculpture, now cocooned in an evidence bag. Tim approaches, his words a whisper against the backdrop of the gallery.

"Looks like they're treating the whole gallery as a crime scene. Anything stand out to you?" Tim inquires, his voice a muted harmony in the investigative symphony.

"Not yet. We need to dig deeper, find the connections between Olivier and whoever did this," Marcus responds, his words a subtle melody of determination.

The investigation shifts towards Olivier's desk, adorned with sketches and notes – a tableau of potential motives. They meticulously examines the papers, unveiling a narrative hidden within the inked strokes.

"Possible motive here. Let's see if Olivier was working on something that could've angered someone," suggests the expert, their words punctuating the air with a promise of revelation.

Acknowledging their findings, Marcus's thoughts churn with possibilities. Just as the investigation prepares to move to another sector of the mansion, his discerning eyes catch sight of a sketchbook nestled on a nearby shelf. A flicker of curiosity sparks within him, prompting the donning of gloves.

"Hold on a moment," Marcus interjects, a pause that reverberates through the dance of forensic activity.

The team halts, their collective gaze directed towards Marcus as he delicately retrieves the sketchbook. Its presence is unassuming, a silent witness to the unfolding drama. As Marcus flips through its pages, the sketches reveal a familiar artistic style, each stroke a brush with recognition.

"Wait... these look like—" Marcus begins, his words a murmur to the sketches that come to life beneath his fingertips.

Tim glances over, an inkling of recognition in his eyes.

"Isn't that—"

"Yeah. It's hers," Marcus confirms, closing the notebook.

So much for not getting you involved.

“Captain, you can’t be serious.” 

Your eyes are drawn to Marcus, his voice holding the tone of nothing other but disbelief. Your eyes turn to the floor. Olivier is dead. Murdered. And the only proper evidence to connect the dots of what happened is your sketchbook. The sketchbook you could’ve sworn you left in your office. The sketchbook that you only kept to yourself other than Marcus and a couple of more trustworthy people. One of them being Olivier.

You close your eyes. It’s exhausting to breathe. You focus on how your nostrils flare and let it all out through a small gap between your lips. Marcus inches closer, hand firm against the small of your back. 

“I’m dead serious, Agent Pike,” Captain Lana answers, her voice calm yet cold as ice. “Until this entire case is solved, she’s on house arrest and under your care.” 

“Just because we found her sketchbook does not mean she’s a suspect—” 

“Agent Pike,” her voice cuts through the tension in the room. A sharp shudder crawls up your spine, your skin prickling with attention as you open your eyes. Despite her tone, she doesn’t look mad. “You will do what is best for our consultant. As of right now, she is linked to the case of one of the biggest art collectors for reasons we do not know. The best thing we can do is keep an eye on her and protect her.” 

His mouth slams shut, his jaw clenched. His hand deserts your back and in that moment, all you can feel is guilt. Guilt of him being forced to do something he clearly doesn’t want to do. 

To share his home. 

“I understand,” he answers curtly, turning on his heel. “Let’s go get your things.” 

It takes you a moment to realize he’s talking to you, shooting Captain Lana a glance, you follow him out of the office. 

Marcus hasn’t said a single word during the entire drive. Even when you finally parked, he just took your bags and led you up the stairs to his apartment. Your heart felt as if it was shattering into a million tiny pieces. The poor organ was already weighted down by your friend's death, and now one of the closest people to you couldn’t even look at you. 

He drops your bags to the floor and you slowly shut the door. You don’t even have it in you to look around, not that it would matter, you’ve already been here before. You doubt anything changed. 

“I’m sorry,” you blurt out before he can say anything else. “God, Marcus, I’m so sorry.” 

“For what?” 

His hands are on you in an instant, lifting your downturned gaze. You blink away the tears, breath catching in your throat as you meet his eyes. It’s so easy to get lost in them. You could live an eternity there. “For . . for having to stay here. I know it’s inconvenient.” 

“Oh, sweetheart no, no. You could never be an inconvenience. I’m. . . I’m sorry I made you feel like that. I should’ve checked in on you. None of this is your fault understand. None of it,” his thumbs draw slow circles around your cheeks, the knot in your throat growing by the second. “And for all it’s worth, I’m happy that you’re here. I would be worried sick knowing that you’re alone.” 

Suddenly you’re being pulled into his chest, your senses completely enveloped by his scent. He gingerly cups your head from behind, holding you there, allowing you to disappear from the world for a while. 

The first tear escapes unexpectedly. It’s immediately absorbed into his shirt and the rest follows. He doesn’t try to hush you, doesn’t try to get you to stop. He allows you to break down completely. You cry and cry, until there’s nothing left anymore. Only then does he pull back, lifting your gaze to him once more. 

“Feeling better?” 

“Y-Yeah. Thank you, Marcus.” 

He shakes his head, “I’m not doing anything you should be thankful for. This…this is what friends do.” 

That’s right. Friends. 

Your eyes sting when you blink, a forced smile tugging at your lips, “Yeah, friends.” 

You’re almost certain that you’re imagining it, but you swear the crease between his brows deepens with your answer. 

The soft glow of the TV screen bathes the room as Marcus settles onto the couch beside you. “Really? That’s what you want to watch?” 

Marcus raises a brow as he looks down at you. You’re wrapped in a blanket, looking as if the two of you have been living together for years. He loves how you’re already comfortable with the living situation. He wished he could have this in better circumstances without an ongoing murder investigation, but he’ll take what he gets. 

“I haven’t started the new season yet, it’ll be fun.” 

“It’s a murder mystery. Are you sure?” 

You snort, “I know the plot of Only Murders In The Building, Marcus. No need to remind me.” 

As the first episode begins, the room is filled with the intriguing soundtrack of the show. Marcus watches the characters unfold on the screen, but his attention keeps drifting back to you. The play of emotions on your face, the way you get caught up in the plot – it's more captivating to him than any murder mystery.

Gradually, you lean into him, seeking comfort in the shared moment. The warmth of your presence seeps into Marcus's consciousness, and he finds himself entranced by the way you become absorbed in the show. Unconsciously, his arm drapes around your shoulder, the gesture protective yet tender.

In the semi-darkness of the room, Marcus grapples with his own emotions. The line between friend and something more blurs as he navigates the uncharted territory of his feelings. As you snuggle closer, he can feel the gentle rhythm of your breath, the subtle rise and fall of your chest.

A flicker of uncertainty crosses Marcus's mind. Does this closeness mean the same to you as it does to him? He wonders if you sense the subtle shift in the dynamics between you. The arm around your shoulder, a silent invitation, speaks volumes, but Marcus Pike remains in that delicate space between uncertainty and the unspoken desire for something more. The murder mystery on the screen becomes a mere backdrop to the complex enigma of emotions unfolding between two souls entangled in the intricacies of life and love.

Marcus's heart races as he lets his hand linger on your waist. He can feel the warmth radiating through the fabric of your shirt, and he wonders if you can feel the heat of his touch as well.

He watches your face, searching for any sign of discomfort or hesitation, but all he sees is the same intensity and focus on the TV. It both thrills and confuses him – is it possible that you can be so oblivious to the way he feels?

But as he watches you, he notices the faint hitch in your breath when his hand moves slightly, as if you're aware of his touch but trying to hide it. It only fuels the growing attraction between them, and Marcus can feel himself getting more and more drawn in.

His mind is filled with images of how he wants to touch you, and he can barely contain the urge to lean in and brush his lips against your neck. He wants to feel your skin against his, to explore every inch of your body.

The tension in the room becomes palpable, and Marcus can feel his heart racing. He looks over at you, and for a moment, he thinks he sees a flicker of desire in your eyes. But just as quickly, it disappears, and you go back to watching the movie without a second glance.

His hand moves even closer to yours, brushing against your fingers lightly. He can feel the heat emanating from your body, and he knows that you're just as affected by the electric chemistry between them.

His mind is clouded with desire, and all he can think about is kissing you, touching you. But he knows he needs to be patient. He can’t just make a move and potentially ruin the friendship you have.

But as the episode goes on, Marcus can barely pay attention anymore. All he can focus on is you, and the way your body moves slightly with each scene. He can feel himself getting harder with each passing moment, and he knows he needs to do something to release the tension.

Without thinking, his hand moves to your thigh, tracing small circles on your skin. He can see your breath hitch and your eyes flutter closed for a split second before you regain your composure.

He leans in closer to you, his lips just inches away from your ear. "Is this okay?" he whispers.

Marcus relaxes when you nod, eyes still glued to the screen. He knows you want to turn to him, to witness his feelings lingering in his eyes but he also knows that you can’t for the same reason why he can’t tell you how he feels. Fear. Fear of rejection. Of loss of a friendship.

So, his hand on your thigh is as far as he’ll go. Soothing you with the simplest of touches. 

The credits roll and the episode ends, Marcus can't help but feel a lingering sense of longing. He knows he needs to push these feelings aside and focus on the case, but he also can't deny the strong connection he feels with you.

As you stand up to turn off the TV, Marcus suddenly reaches out and takes your hand in his, surprising both of you. The air between them is heavy with unspoken words and tension, but they both know this isn’t the time or the place.

For now, they'll focus on solving the murder and catching the killer. But Marcus can't shake the feeling that this shared moment was the beginning of something more – something that could change everything.

It’s been almost two weeks now since you moved in with Marcus. And other than Olivier’s murder, things have been. . . peaceful. He’s been doing everything for you. You’ve never been taken care of to this extent before. It made you feel bad in a way, as if you were a burden to him and now he felt inclined to take care of you just because of the circumstances. 

However, you couldn’t ignore the tension either, the chemistry. Almost every night you thought of when the two of you watched TV. How close the two of you were. You often find yourself thinking about how differently that night could’ve ended. Only if you were brave enough, then maybe the friendship could’ve escalated into something more. 

While heating leftovers for the both of you from last night, the door clicks open. You expect to see his smile, the same question on his lips asking how your day was—but all you can see in his eyes is exhaustion. He forces a smile when he sees you, then silently heads to his room. Your lungs cave in on itself. Your body buzzing with worry, you look down at the barely heated leftovers. He deserves something more. Something fresh. 

So, as you quickly head down the hall to check on him, you order his favorites. You come to a halt at the door, heart beating in your throat, you knock. 

“I’ll be right there,” he says, almost apologetically, which makes you feel even worse. 

“I just wanted to check if you’re alright. Can I. . . Can I come in?” 

You’re about to head back to the living room when the door slowly opens. His tie hangs loosely around his neck, the first three buttons of his shirt wide open, exposing skin. You barely manage to tear your gaze away. He looks vulnerable, defeated. 

“I’m okay,” he clears his throat. “I promise.” 

You ignore what he says and take a step forward, forcing the both of you inside the bedroom. It smells of cinnamon. “I ordered us some food from that place you like. We have some time to relax.” 

“Relax?” 

You let out the breath you’ve been holding and trap his face between your hands. You want to make him feel good. You want to pamper him. At least this one time, you want to do something for him instead. You know what his answer is going to be if you ask him about his day—he’ll brush you off, because it’s the case you’re involved in. The murder of your friend. 

“Let me make you feel good, Marcus.” 

His eyes widen, lashes fluttering, his lips part, “You don’t have to do that.” 

“I know I don’t have to but I want to.” You quickly add when you see the hesitation growing in his eyes. “Please.” 

You notice the hollow in his cheek, the way his jaw moves as he chews on the inside. Your heart beats wildly in your chest. After what feels like hours, his head jerks in a small nod, “Okay.” 

Marcus gently falls onto the bed and you drop to your knees, taking a place between his spread legs. You can feel his eyes on you. His gaze intense as you fumble with his belt. You tug down his pants along with his underwear, his hips slightly lifting to make it easier for you. His cock is still soft. It makes a certain type of hunger grow inside you. Placing both hands on his thighs, you dip down, taking him into his mouth. He sharply inhales, cock twitching over your tongue. It doesn’t take him long to grow in your mouth, and suddenly swallowing him down proves to be harder than you thought. 

Your nostrils flare as you attempt to swallow him down, your nose brushing against the soft curls. His hand gently cradles the back of your head, and when you look up you see his head falling back, his brows furrowed as he breathes heavily through his nose. 

Parting away, you suck the base of his cock, your tongue swirling. His hips jerk and a moan rips from his throat. “That—that feels good,” he swallows. 

“You like it slow?” you say, lips moving against sensitive skin. “Tell me how you like it. Show me.” 

“You’re doing great sweetheart, just do it how it’s best for you,” he lets out a breathy chuckle. “I’m not picky.” 

Brows knitting together, you pull away and fix him a half-hearted glare. You wrap your fingers around and begin to stroke him, witnessing the flex of his thighs. “I want to do it how you like it,” you state. “Show me or I’ll stop.” 

Your lips curl as you hear him whine. It’s such a beautiful sound. 

“Fine.” 

He drags you back down to his cock, your hand falling away. You open your mouth to take him once more, thinking that he wants to fuck your mouth, but instead, he presses your lips to the side of his cock. You feel the heat of him, the bulging of his veins. 

“Wrap your lips,” he rasps and when you do, he starts to move your head up and down. 

You let out a muffled moan, the vibrations sending shivers down Marcus’ spine. His movements are slow, almost as if he’s fucking himself deep into you—almost as if he’s been thinking about this for months. Your head bobs up and down, your lips pursed around him tightly. You hear him grunt above you, and you can tell that he’s struggling to keep himself in control. 

“Put your hands back on my thighs,” Marcus commands, and you do so without hesitation. “I want to feel the bite of your nails.” His thighs are shaking beneath your touch, and you can feel the coiled tension inside him, just waiting to snap. You do as he asks, digging your nails slightly into the flesh. Another whimper falls for him, a sounds desperate and needy at the same time. He pulls up and finally slips himself into your warm mouth, your eyes water as he pushes you down, taking him whole. 

“You’re gonna make me come,” Marcus grunts, his voice punctuated by the wet sounds of your mouth on his cock. 

You keep up the pace, eager to please him. You can feel his cock growing harder and harder inside your mouth, and you can tell that he’s close. You swirl your tongue around him, pressing your lips even tighter around him. 

“Fuck,” Marcus mutters, his hand gripping your hair tightly. “I’m gonna—” 

Before he can finish his sentence, he releases into your mouth with a deep groan, his hips bucking up into your face. You eagerly take him in, swallowing around him as he spills, hot come trailing down your throat. He lets out a heavy sigh, his body going limp as he comes down from his orgasm. 

You sit back on your heels, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. Marcus looks at you with admiration and slight embarrassment, his cheeks peppered with a faint shade of red. 

“Sorry, that was quick,” he murmurs, tugging you up and pulling you to his lap. “Now it’s your turn.” 

He leans towards your lips but you stop him by pressing two fingers, they’re soft. “We can think about me later,” you say, despite the inside of your panties being an absolute wet mess. “I just wanted to make you feel good.” 

“I want to make you feel good too,” he objects, nipping at your fingers. “Don’t you. . . I thought you wanted me.” 

The guilt in his eyes is back and your hand drops away from his lips. He’s holding you tight as if you might disappear.  

“I do,” you answer tentatively. “But I don’t want you to jump into this thinking you have to. I don't want you to do anything you might regret.” 

“Regret?” he shakes his head. “What does that even mean? I’m not jumping into anything. I’m not confused if that’s what you’re worried about,” his arms around you tighten, and with that, you know you’ve said the wrong thing. “You just sucked my cock—are you telling me that was out of pity? Gratitude?” 

You cut him off, “N–No. . .” 

“Then what was it?” his voice drops dangerously low, eyes flashing with a mixture of anger and hurt. “I’m one hundred percent here. It has nothing to do with the case. And for you to do something just because you felt bad for me. . . I thought we were finally getting somewhere after all of this.” 

“Marcus—”

“I think I want to be alone right now,” he turns his head away from you but doesn’t do anything to push you off of him. Your apology dies in your throat, your mouth suddenly dry. You slowly move away, the taste of his come still in your mouth as you contemplate what to do. What to say. 

But whatever you were planning evaporates with the ring of the doorbell.  

You’re sitting on the couch when Marcus comes home and sits on the armchair right across from you. You’re eyes slowly shift from your phone to meet his gaze, he continues to stare down, his thumbs thrumming over his thighs. 

It’s been an awkward couple of days after the argument you two had. Neither of you were brave enough to broach the subject, However, that didn’t mean what happened didn’t haunt you in the dead of night, both in a bad and a good way. 

“It’s done.” 

His words send a chill down your spine, your muscles tightening, “What’s done?” 

“The case. We found who murdered Olivier. . . and how your notebook got there.” Marcus takes a deep breath, his eyes finally meeting yours as he begins to unravel the mystery that has been hanging over your heads like a storm cloud.

"Olivier's murder... it was someone close to him. Both rival and friend," Marcus starts, his voice heavy with the weight of the revelation. "Turns out, his friend had been eyeing the same collection for years. When Olivier outbid him for that prized painting, it pushed him over the edge."

You feel a knot form in your stomach, a mixture of shock and sorrow swirling within you. Olivier, with his vibrant personality and passion for art, didn't deserve such a fate.

"And my notebook...?" you prompt, needing to understand how your own belongings ended up tangled in this tragedy.

Marcus sighs, running a hand through his hair. "Olivier... he wanted to show your sketches to one of his friends. He thought you had real talent and he was planning on gifting you that painting."

Your heart sinks at the realization. Olivier, you’re going to miss him. Marcus wraps his arms around you, offering comfort and support as the weight of the emotions you've been suppressing finally spills over. You lean into him, the warmth of his embrace a soothing balm for the wounds of the past few days. His touch is both reassuring and grounding, reminding you that you're not alone in this tumultuous journey.

"I'm here," he murmurs softly, his fingers gently tracing comforting patterns on your back. "It’s over now. You can return to your life and begin to heal."

“Heal?” you blin at him, lips parting. “Return to my life? What does that even mean? We can’t go back to normal Marcus. Not after everything. . . I—” You swallow, the knot thick in your throat. “I care about you, Marcus. I care about you deeply and I just want you to know that. I don’t want you to think it was a one-time thing. Ot that I did it because of the circumstances. I did it because I wanted to. And I wanted to long before any of this happened.” 

As your heartfelt confession hangs in the air, Marcus's eyes soften, his expression reflecting a mixture of relief and affection. Without hesitation, he leans in, closing the gap between you, his lips meeting yours in a tender kiss. It's a moment of shared vulnerability, a silent exchange of emotions that speaks volumes more than words ever could.

The warmth of his touch ignites a spark within you, a reassurance that despite the challenges you've faced, your connection remains unbroken. In this intimate embrace, you find solace and hope for the future, knowing that whatever trials may come, you'll face them together.

As the kiss deepens, the weight of the past few days begins to lift, replaced by a sense of renewal and possibility.

Marcus's hands move to your waist, pulling you onto his lap as he deepens the kiss. You feel his body pressing against yours, igniting a fire within you. Your legs instinctively wrap around his waist, pulling him closer as your fingers tangle in his hair.

His lips move fervently against yours, conveying the unspoken emotions that have been building between you for weeks. You can feel his heart beating against your chest and it's a comforting reminder that you're not alone in this moment.

He breaks the kiss, his lips trailing down your neck, leaving a tingle in their wake. You let out a soft gasp, arching your neck to give him better access. His hands roam over your body, his touch setting every nerve alight. “I’ve been wanting to do this for so long.”

Your fingers move to his shirt, desperate to rid him of the barriers separating your skin.  His lips trail down your neck again, moving to your shoulder, his hands roaming freely over your body. You let out a soft moan, arching your back as his hands reach your waist, pulling your shirt off. The cool air hits your skin but it's nothing compared to the heat radiating between you two.

Marcus and you remove each other's clothes. Your hands roam hungrily over his bare chest, feeling the muscles ripple beneath your touch. He moans softly, a sound that sends a shiver down your spine.

His hands move to your back, unhooking your bra and gently sliding it off. Your bare chest presses against his, skin against skin, and the sensation sends sparks of pleasure through your body. Your lips meet again, his tongue moving alongside yours, his hands roaming lower to your waist and down to your hips, pulling you closer.

You push him down to the couch, your hands reaching for his jeans. With ease, you undo the button and slide them off, revealing his toned legs and the bulge in his boxers. Your fingers trail down his stomach, feeling his muscles contract under your touch.

He flips you over, his lips moving down your neck and to your chest. With a flick of his tongue, he takes one of your hardened nipples into his mouth, causing you to arch your back and let out a soft moan of pleasure. His hands reach down, unbuttoning your jeans and sliding them off your legs.

As his lips continue to travel down your body, his fingers slide into your underwear, eliciting a gasp from you. You can feel the heat and wetness building between your legs, the tingling sensation increasing with every touch.

In one swift movement, he removes your underwear, leaving you completely exposed and vulnerable to his touch. But with Marcus, you feel anything but vulnerable. In his embrace, you feel safe, loved, and desired.

And you know that is something that will never change. 

#marcus pike x reader #marcus pike x fem!reader #marcus pike x f!reader #writing commission #the mentalist fanfic #pedro pascal characters fanfiction #pedro pascal character fanfic

[warmau]

☆ commission: lovestruck!au jaemin note: i do not know how to crochet so please bare with me

there are three people in the crocheting club

two are quiet, hermit type classmates that you have never heard make much more then a small noise or string together the syllables of their name in class

and renjun - who looks you up and down when you come through the door with nothing but the pair of old crocheting needles you got from your grandmother and a ball of yarn that is....in his opinion...the ugliest shade of yellow to exist

but then you sit down after a small introduction and get lost in your project, clumsily making it through your knots, and renjun softens to that

the whole point of this club is to be alone, together

you understand that without having to be told - meaning, you fit right in

after a hectic day of trying to survive classes, the annoying and loud nature of the hallways, and of course all the other woes of youth - this place is a safe haven

and then of course, na jaemin appears on a tuesday at exactly three fifteen sharp

the way he opens the door is sudden and the energy he gusts in with him like a wind draws shudders from the two wallflower classmates, a look of disgust from renjun, and confusion from you

"jaemin, this is the crocheting club are you looking for-"

he flashes a big and white grin at you

"then i'm in the right place!

✧

jaemin is not good at crocheting

to be honest, he can't even sew

he brings the wrong kind of needles with him and doesn't have the slightest idea of what a pattern he's interested in starting

he just makes an offhanded comment about how he likes cats, the big and fluffy ones

renjun's voice waivers with nuisance as he tries to get jaemin on a more concrete path

"well are you going to make a blanket with a cat, a hat with a cat, a pair of mit-"

"whatever you think i should do!" jaemin grins and looks over his shoulder at you "woah, you're in the club too?"

the way he asks makes you think he already knew the answer before stepping through the door

which is weird because..........jaemin isn't your friend

you guys are more like acquaintances by force

he was your lab partner last year when he transferred from organic chemistry to biology 2 which he claimed was because the professor just didn't understand him

but you had heard from rumors floating around that the real reason he'd been switched was due to an secret experiment gone wrong that jaemin had been caught red-handed for

you had debated asking him about it when you two were working together in class, but decided against it

plus - jaemin was good at biology - like ... really good ... so far so that maybe his claim about just being disliked had merit

because someone so talented and excited about science, couldn't have failed and almost blown up a classroom like the rumor whispered about

so keeping your curiosity to yourself, your just tried to keep up with jaemin

who would get to the conclusion before you could even get past the hypothesis

other than that, the most you'd ever really talked to each other was one time outside of the library

you were waiting for a friend and jaemin had come down the hall, flanked by a group of rowdy friends of his, jaemin the center of all their attention

when he'd spotted you he had smoothly pushed himself out of that frenzy and into your quiet, awkward personal space

"you accidentally left this behind last period." he'd fished your half done lab report out of his backpack "i kept it between two textbooks so it wouldn't get crumpled."

as he handed it back to you, you immediately saw that beside your own work were scribbled notes in pencil

"did you-"

before you could ask your question, a hand had appeared on jaemin's shoulder and pulled him back into the body of people taking up the entire hallway

jaemin didn't get a chance to look back at you, but you had watched him and everyone else disappear around the corner

you remembered distinctly that one person, a girl with bright eyeshadow and a collection of keychains hanging from her bag had turned around to shoot one glare at you, and then jaemin and the rest of them were gone

you had looked at the report, noticing that the comments in pencil were corrections to your work - but after each sentence there were a variety of tiny little scribbles

some were smiley faces and others looked like attempts to draw some kind of cartoon characters

even though the corrections were bluntly explaining how your line of thinking was wrong - the drawings had made jaemin's sincerity obvious on the page

he's trying to help me, and still be silly about it

you had remembered thinking: "that's very.....jaemin of him."

✧

despite this one interaction and the scattered lab periods you'd shared, you didn't have a moment where you felt as if you and jaemin had gotten anywhere near close

not as friends, and not as anything more

but yet - as the first session of crochet club that jaemin attends came to a close - he's the one to corner you at the door and ask, with that smile never really leaving his face

"can i walk you to the station?"

"sorry - how did you know i take the train?"

jaemin doesn't look flustered, he just blinks at you as if it's obvious that he should know this

"i ride my bike to school, and you're never at the bike rack. my path goes by the bus and you're never at the bust stop - so, logically speaking, the train is it."

you have the tickling urge in your stomach to one up him

"what if i walked to school?"

he points to the pass case hanging off your bag that clearly displays the ticket you need every day to get on the train

"then why would you always have that?"

you open your mouth to think of some retort, but you really don't have any, so you just look back at him

"is there a reason you want to walk with me - is there something we need to talk about?"

jaemin puts his hands hands in his pockets and shakes his head

"nope. but you can also say no if you don't want me to walk with you."

has anyone ever said no to him?

you think, taking a pause to focus on his face

when you look like that, with the added bonus of his height and the fact that being smart just comes naturally i would assume rejection isn't even a possibility in his mind

"no - i mean yes you can walk with me."

and look at me, falling right into the trap like everyone does

jaemin gives you a thumbs up and turns his body to let you through the door

the first couple of minutes it's silent and you catch some double takes from other students

renjun is at the front of the school when you pass and he raises an eyebrow as you kind of mouth a "i don't know either?"

then, when you're out of the vicinity of the school, jaemin straightens up and stretches his arms over his head

his shirt rides up and reveals the lean skin of his stomach and you involuntarily look up to pretend you didn't see it

"so - why do you like crocheting?" the question catches you off guard "from what i could tell today, it's pretty boring."

"it's not boring!"

you argue, "it's fulfilling, and good for your concentration. plus at the end you make something that you can use and that's the most rewarding part."

"but you can buy a hat or a blanket anywhere. there are machines that make them one hundred times faster, and they're cheaper to buy then spending money on the equipment and the yarn and-"

you stop and jaemin walks a couple of feet ahead before realizing and turning back

"why did you-"

"if you just wanted to make fun of my hobby, why did you even show up to the club today? no one forced you to join us - and you could have left at any point."

a look of surprises washes over jaemin, and then he scratches his head and seems to understand that all he's done is come of as a bit rude

"no - sorry, it's not my intention to criticize you. i just really wanted to know why you like it."

"lots of people like it. for lots of different reasons, just because something is boring to you doesn't mean it's boring to me. for your information na jaemin i don't find science to be all that interesting but you love it right?"

you aren't sure where this is all coming from, a part of you think it's just you exercising your right to tell this guy off for butting into your club unannounced

and the other part is just that......jaemin is always so straightforward and simple. he's always first to find a solution and for once maybe you want to get there first...just a one up against one of the most popular and intelligent students

"well science isn't boring, it's infinite and ever changing. isn't crocheting just doing the same thing over and over and over?"

"there are different-" you stops before you start, the two reasons you have for this conversation suddenly seeming childish and unnecessary

you glare at jaemin and stomp past him toward the station

obliviously, he starts after you, but you point back toward the school

"i would appreciate if you let me walk to the station alone now."

you don't look at his expression as you continue on your way, muttering in your head about how stupid that all was

jaemin watches you, but you don't feel his gaze on your back, instead you fume a little on your way home

but tell yourself that it doesn't matter, ultimately - you won't have to deal with jaemin again

he won't be showing up to your 'boring' club again anyway

✧

jaemin is there before you are, chatting at one of the two quieter students as they stare at him like deer in headlights

"basically, kiwi's don't have wings - but they're still considered birds, but interestingly they have more in common with mammals an-"

"jaemin" you get his attention and he smiles and waves at you as if everything is fine and as it should be. even though that's clearly not the case "what are doing here?"

he lifts his needles, "i'm here to crochet. this is crocheting club, right?"

you cross your arms, "didn't you tell me yesterday that you thought crocheting was boring?"

"i did"

"so then why are you here doing something boring when you have the choice to.........well not be?"

he stands up and you expect him to laugh, to turn this all into some joke that he's been playing out in his head

but instead he just gives you a clear smile

"because my choice is to be here. i want to be here and i want to crochet with you."

a gasp comes from the other two students in the room - renjun walks up behind you at the exact moment jaemin makes the proclamation and snorts

"so you're here to flirt? could the two of you do it somewhere else?"

"that's not-" you start but jaemin tilts his head at you like a puppy awaiting your call

"should we go crochet somewhere else? i want to continue our conversation from yesterday too."

renjun clicks his tongue, "oh your 'conversation' from yesterday huh?"

you feel heat on your skin from the eyes in the room and the absolute shameless way jaemin is staring straight at you with no intention of stopping

"actually, i have to go home - i have...stuff to do." you turn to make a beeline out of there, but in mere seconds jaemin has caught up with you with the cheery look on his face turned to concern

"wait - what do you mean do stuff? i heard you tell renjun at lunch that you're almost done with your scarf project and wanted to finish today at the club."

"oh so are you eavesdropping on me and my boring conversations now too? was not coming here to make fun of my boring hobby again not enough?"

jaemin looks lost, which confuses you because what other explanation could there be

"i was just near you in lunchroom and i never made fun of your hobby."

"jaemin, you literally asked me why i liked doing something so boring."

he takes a second and you're reminded of a loading screen on a game or a computer

"oh." he starts, brown eyes finding yours again "i didn't mean boring as a bad thing."

✧

you sit across from jaemin in the grass of a nearby park and watch him struggle through a couple of the first loops

after a moment he groans and puts the needles down

"it's just not for me."

"you can't say that just because you're bad at it. everyone is bad as a beginner."

jaemin shakes his head, "most things are easy to understand for me - how can i understand cell division but i can't understand how to make a square of fabric?"

you try to suppress a giggle, but jaemin catches you and thins his lips in response

"oh, is it funny that i'm not good at something you can do easily?"

you shrug playfully, "kinda."

he leans back against the tree his bag and yours are resting on as well

"i am sorry again.....i didn't think i would offend you when i ... said all that yesterday."

you rub your arm nervously, after storming out of the room with jaemin following you - you had been offended. mad, even.

but you had fundamentally misunderstood jaemin

he was just curious - as you had been when he was made your lab partner last semester

curious about why he'd been switched, but also just curious about how someone could have so much fun in science class

you didn't have that kind of fun with it - you weren't even interested in it really. you just had to pass the class.

jaemin was doing the same here, he'd just been more vocal about it and had used the wrong word when he'd picked "boring"

he had probably meant to say - why do you like crocheting? personally, it's not easy and fun for me.

which is a question lots of people have about it - and have asked you before

"don't apologize, you were just trying something new and wanted to know more about it i guess."

jaemin shakes his head

"i was trying something new - but i was trying it because i heard you liked it. i wanted to try something you liked."

the words are simple and strung together without shyness, but you don't really know how to take them

"um - why?"

"why what?" jaemin twists some of the yarn around his finger and then glances at you when you don't follow up

"why did i want to try something specifically you liked?"

he continues for you and you nod, unsure of what to add

he smiles and his teeth are pretty just like the rest of him

"because i like you."

✧

you reply the conversation close to a hundred times in your head that evening

"because i like you."

"sure, but you could have found another way to be my friend - you didn't have to force yourself into croc-"

"oh, sorry, let me say that again. i like you in the non-platonic kind of way."

jaemin's voice hadn't faltered, like with most things, he said this without a single hint of worry or lack of confidence

you'd felt the inside of your mouth go dry as you repeated it slowly back to him

"in the non-platonic kind of way?"

"yes." he'd taken the two crocheting needles and pressed the edges of the top sides together "like in this way, you know?"

you'd imagined he was mimicking kissing, but your mind halted that thought because - well - then that meant that na jaemin was implying that he wanted to kiss you

"are you being serious?"

was all you could think to say, the words tumbled out of you without a filter

"pretty serious."

he'd tilted his head and done the whole puppy awaiting your command look that probably sent most people head over heels within seconds

but just kept you sitting there almost dumbly confused

"you don't have to give me an answer now, and don't worry if you don't feel the same - just tell me how you really feel when you decide."

you sit up in bed and ball your fists around your covers

"when i decide? decide what? decide that i -"

you say it outloud and into the darkness of your room before groaning and falling back into your pillows, one hand thrown over your eyes

"not like i have a choice in deciding, it's you jaemin......of course, i like you too."

✧

jaemin is talking with renjun when you show up to the club the next day

and renjun throws a glance your way that immediately reads: please help me get away from this weirdo

jaemin waves at you casually, and it almost makes you forgot what happened yesterday

you sit down at one of the empty desks and take out your nearly completed scarf

looking at it, you nod to yourself, and focus on finally finishing

jaemin stays the entire time too, and you can see from the corner of your eye that he's trying out the technique you'd been showing him yesterday

he catches your gaze once and smiles, but goes back to his work

half thankful that he isn't sliding himself in beside you to talk while you work (or, more importantly - ask you for your answer)

but also half confused at how calm he is even after confessing

you let yourself get lost in your work and when the club ends, renjun and the two other students leaving before you and jaemin do

you look down at the scarf that's complete and then turn to the desk where jaemin is

he's fallen asleep on top of his attempt at making....well you aren't sure

and you get up to wake him

but before you put a hand on his shoulder, you take in the image of him - laying his head on his arms, uniform sleeves rolled up to his elbows

he's got a serene expression, as if he's having the best dream in the world, his bangs falling over his eyes and tickling the desk beneath him

even like this his jawline is sharp and handsome, his breathing is even and his long legs are stretched out past the desk beneath him

he doesn't look like he belongs here, in this room with you, but somewhere else

somewhere ethereal and beautiful

which makes what happened yesterday feel like it isn't real either

you suddenly feel like you shouldn't disturb him

which also make a sinking feeling in your stomach rise as you wonder if you should just ...... say no. maybe, rejecting jaemin is the right choice for the both of you because -

you clutch the scarf in your hands

because you and him don't fit. like failed science experiments, or a badly crocheted pair of socks

"i'm sorry." you start - in a small voice "i'm sorry, but i don't think i should like you back."

"that's silly."

you startle and look down to see jaemin opening his eyes and blinking back sleep

"you were aw-"

"oh! you finished." he points to the scarf and you reflexively let him take it out of your hands

he unravels it and gasps, "it looks even better than the ones in stores. are you going to give it to someone?"

i was going to give it to you. i was going to be selfish and say, of course i like you back. you of all people should be smart enough to know that.

but you're quiet in response and jaemin's eyes flicker a little as the dimming light outside trickles throughout the room

"so what did you mean by that, by thinking you shouldn't like me back?"

"jaemin-" his name sounds too soft when it leaves your mouth "we're different, i don't think we would work out."

"but you haven't tried." he gets up and smiles "you haven't even given it a try."

he dangles the scarf up beside him, "you probably didn't think you could make this when you started - but look at you now. you made this."

he places the scarf gently onto the desk, as if it's going to break if he mistreats it

"and i wouldn't have half as much fun doing the same experiments over and over again, never trying something new to get a new conclusion."

he opens his arms wide and you look at him with a wrinkle of your forehead

"so don't say you shouldn't like me or i shouldn't like you. just like me freely, like i like you. without inhabitation - and let's see what happens!"

for a minute the world stops and you and jaemin are alone in it

without another thought, you walk right into him, throwing your arms around his waist

for the first time you feel through the contact that he's surprised, but then his arms close in around you

"the scarf was for you by the way." you mumble into the front of his shirt "i hope you like it."

he let's go of you with one hand, the other still securely wrapped around you as he puts the scarf on

"i love it, i'm going to wear it all the time."

"even in the summer?"

"even in the summer."

✧

somehow jaemin doesn't seem to be as aware of the shock that pulsates through your school when you both walk in holding hands

and maybe it's the fact that jaemin is sticking to his word, walking around with your scarf around his neck despite being inside

but you're sure it's actually because na jaemin is dating someone.

and that someone is you

the only people who aren't surprised are the crocheting club

renjun just gives you the, him? well if you're sure look and the two other members speak their first full sentence to you: "you guys look cute together."

jaemin swings by the club a couple of more times with you, but it's mostly just to stare as you work

you don't mind it - but you encourage him to join a club of his own that does things that he's interested in

"but i still want to learn to crochet, you like it and i want to understand it."

you put your hands over his and lean up to peck him right on the lips

"that's nice of you, but i think we can appreciate the things we both like .... even if we don't do them."

"you just don't want me to get you involved in my science stuff right?"

you sheepishly give your answer with a sidelong look away from him

jaemin laughs and presses his lips to your cheek, kissing twice toward the tip of your nose and then spinning you into his arms for one more kiss on the lips

but jaemin, surprisingly, is serious about learning more

so sometimes you sit inbetween jaemin's legs, crocheting and humming to yourself as he rests his chin on your shoulder transfixed at your movements

you explain them and then let him take over, his long arms coming over yours and taking the needles

he's clumsy and it's taking him some time to get used to it

but with practice, you're sure he will get be better

one afternoon as you're sitting together like this - jaemin rests his chin on your shoulder

"want to know when i started liking you?"

you stop your work and enthusiastically nod - you had never asked him, but you definitely always wanted to know

"so, i was taking organic chemistry and we were learning about reactions, addition reactions - adding atoms to unsaturated molecules - talking about the importance of modifying existing organic compounds."

"jaemin - human words"

he laughs, "talking about how adding something to something that already exists and making it something different."

"ok...go on."

"and i thought, what's something new i can add to myself to make myself new? i couldn't think of anything. long story short, i talked to the professor i had about it and he wasn't impressed with it. he said something about how biology might suit me better if i was interested in 'how humans change'."

you look over your shoulder, "so you didn't blow up the lab like everyone says you did?"

"nope, but when i left his office that day i passed by the crocheting club room and i saw you."

you feel jaemin's hands wrap a little more tightly around you

"and i had this feeling in my chest that something in me changed - just by looking at you. turns out that to my luck you were in biology two and after transferring i got to be your lab partner."

he nuzzles his face against your neck and you gently graze your fingers up and down his arm

"each time we worked together, something inside of me was changing. maybe not a cellular level - but i felt new every time and i didn't want to let those feelings go when the semester did so - i found you where i'd seen you first."

you take in every word, but ask - "but, how did you know that change was-" you hesitate but jaemin says the word against your neck

"love?" he lifts his gaze back to yours

"because it was the only definition i could give to the change inside of me. and sitting down with you in crocheting club, walking you to the station, and telling you how i felt - proved my theory."

you look at his eyes - as clear and as truthful as they always are - the beautiful brown a lighter hue in the light

"that there was a new me, a new me that loves you."

when he presses his lips to yours - you want to say it back, you want to fill the entire world with it

i love you too, silly.

#jaemin to me is so fucking smart but so fucking goofy so it confuses everyone #when he was just debuting im like shy little guy. i was wrong #nct scenarios #nct dream scenraios #jaemin scenarios #jaemin au #nct dream au #nct au #writing commission #fluff/ #sfw/

[ransprang]

thank you for your request @fantasyfictionfables <3

If anyone else wants personalised hcs this is our kofi

gale x fem!reader

sfw

How you met: You were in Baldur’s Gate, out on an evening walk in the town square when you saw a crowd of people gathering. Curious, you approached the group. It was a man, preaching about how great some new legislation was. He was confidently making baseless arguments (your least favourite kind) to a crowd who seemed very enthusiastic about his opinions. You disagreed but held your tongue and were about to leave when suddenly he called out, “It is a fact none among us can dispute! I invite you, good people if there are any here who can refute my words.” A bold claim, you thought to yourself and before you knew it you had joined him at the center of the crowd. You began to systematically, logically and with citations deconstruct his entire argument, pointing out every logical fallacy you found. By the end, the man had turned red, either with anger or embarrassment. Having finished your speech, you strutted away, leaving the man to try and recover the dwindling faith of the crowd. As you left, Gale approached you, saying he was impressed with your little speech. You both began discussing the topic, and charmed by your thoughts he decided to trust that the Weave had brought you two together for a reason and asked you out to dinner.

Gale could spend hours staring into your eyes, wondering at the mysteries which lie there, boundless as the mysteries of the weave. It would make him feel understood, as though before your gaze he could be fully and truly himself.

Gale, like you, is an open-minded and intellectual individual who holds more traditional values. He is the type of guy who would want to settle down with a wife and have a child or several. 

Gale and you share similar hobbies. Both of you could disappear for hours into a library. You both would walk in on a fine morning and only find each other at the closing time, breathless with arms full of books, eyes bright with excitement ready to discuss all the new things you had just read.

Gale would often show you magic tricks. On dates or even while doing simple chores, he would surprise you by learning mundane little tricks like pulling a penny out of your ear or making a deck of cards disappear.

Gale loves to hear himself talk so you would often hear him going on long, incredibly verbose tangents about topics that interest him. Your ability to speak up regardless of other people would balance out that tendency, and ensure that the both of you have a good time. 

Gale would love it when you would help him cook. He is often the one who ends up preparing meals for camp, and usually a prestidigitation cantrip suffices for the mundane work, he likes the ritual of cooking with you. Since your love language is acts of service, sometimes you surprise him by cooking his favourite meals. Regardless of the outcome, he appreciates the effort you put in.

Gale loves that you speak what’s on your mind when it comes to entertaining his random thoughts during the night. Like “Y/n, do you think the universe is infinite?” he loves staying up hearing your views, seeing how your logical mind works and of course sharing his own opinions. 

Faerûn is full of unexpected situations and problems which often require pragmatic solutions. Gale often asks for your advice and tries to devise solutions with you. The way you think makes him fall for you harder every time. 

If you try to comment on magic and sorcery however, Gale’s pride may come out with him trying to say that he understands the Weave better and so he can make a better judgment of the situation. Those moments would be the only ones where he may irritate you, but if you tell him he’d be more than willing to talk about it. 

n/sfw

Having been locked up in the tower for a long time Gale is insecure about his abilities to pleasure you in bed. He’d take the first few times of being intimate with you very slowly. He loves peeling off every layer of clothing, admiring every portion of skin being revealed to him. Your moans and roaming hands on his body make him grow confident over the days. 

When you tell Gale of your breeding kink his face turns red in embarrassment trying to process what you just said to him. He replies respectfully, “Oh my, I wasn’t expecting quite that to come out of your mouth. Don’t get me wrong, love, I’m glad you feel open enough to tell me about your needs. I just sometimes worry that I may not be able to satisfy you.” After a few moments he continues, “That being said, perhaps we should practice this kink of yours tonight? Hm?”

Gale would enjoy, changing pace from fast to slow and then pumping faster than ever again. He enjoys feeling you up and kissing your neck even when he simply wants to cum deep inside of you.

He would enjoy holding you by your hips and touching the curvature of your hourglass figure while grunting.

Gale would pull you to be on top of him while gripping your waist strongly and firmly as you ride him back and forth. He would enjoy taking in the sight of your beautiful physique.

He would slowly stroke your skin, and play with your hair while giving you soft kisses after cumming deep inside of you. His chest rising and falling against your skin, feeling the tickle of his chest hair. 

He would cup your breasts and squeeze them slightly while giving you a cute playful smile before leaning into a reassuring kiss.

Gale would astral project your favourite hangout spot after sex, and you both would sit on the comfort of your bed cuddled just chatting about a shared future.

Gale would light candles around the house and bring you your favourite snacks with water, with a big caring smile on his face after particularly rough sessions.

After lovemaking, Gale’s hazel eyes stare deep into your dark brown ones with a sweet smile on his face. He strokes your hair without breaking eye contact and imagines his future with you. Your eye contact doesn’t make him flinch at all, he feels comfort feeling that you can see his soul, hoping you also yearn for a future with him. 

yours soulfully,

admins sar, san & sav

#gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 fanfiction #baldurs gate 3 fanfiction #gale fic #gale fanfic #gale smut #gale x tav #gale x reader #baldurs gate 3 smut #bg3 x reader #baldurs gate x reader #baldurs gate 3 x reader #writing commission #writing commissions #kofi #kofi support #commission #commissions #open commissions

[ijwrsmff]

My Dear Daughter-Yandere! Father-Figure Mihawk & Daughter-Figure Reader

A commission for anonymous! This is a longer one, and I'm grateful they gave me the chance to write for this prompt <3 Platonic Yanderes need love too!

Summary: Reader is a stowaway on a pirate ship, and after getting injured you find yourself a savior in the man who destroyed the ship with but a single blow. You're terrified to speak up, but he's done nothing but spoil you. It's not enough though. You want to go home. Mihawk however, now seeing you as a daughter, is doing anything to prevent it from happening.

Word Count: 5,127

Everything was going well…too well. You should have expected everything to go awry, but you had hoped it wouldn’t. The crew had found you. You were trying to hide in the storage room, escaping the dull life of your home island. But people had been reluctant to take a 17 year old to another island, claiming you’d only weigh them down. Even aside from that, the next island was a total of nine days away. So your solution? Hide on a ship when there weren’t many people tending to it. 

Little did you know, it was a pirate ship. It was a lapse of judgment, and you regretted it only when they found you. Luck wasn’t on your side today, it seems. They had dragged you out, and tossed you down on the main deck. You could already feel the bruises forming, but it was nothing in comparison to the fear you felt being surrounded by all these pirates. They were looking at you in a way that you know meant you were in for a world of hurt. 

One drunk was holding a sword, and made a “fake” jab towards you, but he clearly intended to slice your leg, which he did. But you refused to make a sound, even though it was severe. Your blood started to seep through to the wooden deck, and you glared at the pirates as they laughed. After that, there were several more little cuts and bruises. 

Why did you have to try and leave? If you’d stayed at home, it wouldn’t have been exciting by any means…but you wouldn’t have been hurting, surrounded by who knows how many pirates. They were vile, spewing promises on the pain to come. You were probably only there a couple minutes, but it felt like years. You only hoped they reached the island soon. If they didn’t…you’d have another eight days of torture. You didn’t know if you could bear that. 

Within minutes of this realization, you heard shouting coming from the crow’s nest above you. He sounded confused, but announced it to the crew and his captain. It made you curious, as his words…didn’t really make sense. 

“Captain! There’s a man floating on a small raft in the water! What do you want me to do?” He leaned over and looked down at the group, his eyes lingering on you momentarily before returning to his place in the crow’s nest. 

“Raft? What’s on it?” The captain called back to him, not sounding too concerned. If anything, he seemed to smirk in place and call back, “Someone shoot him down.” He turned back to you and grabbed your shirt collar, pulling you close to his face with a look that could only be described as sinister. “Hey little girl…you wanna see what happens to people who bother pirates? If you don’t listen, it’ll be you next.” 

His breath reeked of alcohol, and it made you flinch back. When he mentioned shooting down the man, your eyes widened. Was he about to kill the man? If he was on a raft, he might even need help! “W-Wait! Don’t kill him! If he’s just on a raft he doesn’t have anything valuable, what could you possibly get from kill-” But the words were cut off when the captain yelled in your face.

“WHY? WHY am I doing this?” He cackled, and the crew joined in. “Because we’re pirates. Why SHOULDN’T we send a message? It’s a message for you, don’t you feel special?” He turned to a couple crew members and nodded to the cannons with his head. “Don’t miss. There’s no warning shots this time.” He grabbed you by the back of the neck and dragged you to the side of the ship, so you could see the spectacle about to happen. 

As the crew loaded the cannons and got ready to fire, the captain tilted his head slightly. “Wait…” the gears in his head were turning, and as the small raft got closer he began to shake in fear. “WAIT! MEN DON’T SHOOT-” He sounded frantic, and continued, “WE HAVE TO GET THE HELL OUT OF HERE!” He let go of you, clearly not concerned with you right now. Whoever that man was, even this group of pirates were terrified of him. 

You leaned towards the ledge, and considered jumping over and begging the man on the raft to get YOU out of here. Staying with these pirates was dangerous, maybe he was with the marines? Why else would these pirates be so terrified? It wasn’t a great option, but neither was staying with these pirates. But you didn’t have much time to debate. 

The man stood on the small raft, and pulled up a sword bigger than any you’d ever seen. It was shaped like a cross, and it hit you. This was Dracule Mihawk. One of the seven warlords of the sea. Meaning he was a pirate, just like them. But what if he thought you were one of them, he surely wouldn’t kill someone innocent when working for the government…right? 

You waved your arms at him, hoping he’d get the message. But he had already swung his sword. Within half a second, the boat was split in half. You stumbled, and tried to gain your bearings, but with your injuries it proved to be a more difficult task than you imagined. Falling several meters into the ocean as it churned was terrifying, and you struggled to swim back to the surface. But with all the debris falling…you knew. You were going to drown here. 

You were near passing out, and you couldn’t hold your breath anymore…until a hand reached down and pulled you up. As you coughed, placed on a solid surface you looked up and saw the gaze of Mihawk. His eyes were piercing, and it was as if he was looking straight through you. It took everything in you to not cower under that look. He was much taller than you, and his sword was resting behind the makeshift seat. 

“Are you alright?” He asked, though his eyes were glancing over your body, taking in the injuries you had. You had no idea what he was thinking, his face was completely blank, and his voice monotone. “Allow me.” He said and reached down to help you up. 

You swayed, and all but fell into his arms. The raft didn’t rock much, but you could still feel the movement of the waves under your feet. He placed a firm hand on your upper arm and kept you steady. “What…are you doing? Why did you save me?” Was all you could get out. You tried to scour his face for any traces of emotion, but found none. Aside from a brief second of softness in his eyes, though it was gone as quickly as it came. 

“You needed help. I’m providing that.” He carefully moved you to set you on the only seat on the small raft. He knelt down and looked at you. Even when you were sitting on the small chair, he was bigger than you as he rested on one knee. His tone was ‘matter-of-fact’ and you were reeling your mind trying to think of what he was thinking. 

“Uh…okay…” You couldn’t find any other words. Help was needed, and if he was willing to provide that…it shouldn’t be too bad? You were bleeding more and more by the second, and the sea salt in those wounds were only aggravating them. It honestly made you feel as if you’d pass out. Your eyes continued to flutter shut, but the fear of being alone in the vast sea with a warlord kept you fighting. 

“Don’t worry…you’ll be able to rest soon.” He tore off small strips of his clothing and wrapped it around the larger wounds, and opened the water bottle he had in an attempt to clean those wounds. He moved swiftly but carefully, as the raft floated further and further from the remains of the shipwreck. 

Once he was finished, you were practically asleep. He took the moment to look you over in curiosity. There was a small tug at his heartstrings, it was small…but still there. He could bring you to the nearest island, but a large part of him wanted to continue to check on you. Make sure you’re recovering well. It was a brief moment of hesitation, before he started moving the raft to his island. Once you were healed completely, he would bring you back to your island or one of your choosing. That’s what he told himself at least. 

Once you were asleep, he gently lifted you, and sat down on the seat. He cradled you to him, with one arm under your back and the other your knees. Your fears and worries of the events must have scared you terribly, he concluded. You softly cried in your sleep, as you unknowingly nuzzled your face into his neck. All Mihawk could do was hold you closer, as he whispered “You’re safe, now.” Over and over again until the tears stopped. 

You ended up stirring awake not long later. Your eyes opened before you moved anything, and you instantly shot up, only to be held down with arms much stronger than yours. The first thing you wanted to see after passing out, traumatized for life, was…well not this. Mihawk’s practically glowing yellow eyes staring down at you. You were in his lap, being held like a damn princess. He had no shame, either. When you caught him staring he had the audacity to maintain that eye contact. 

“Uh…I can get up now?” You wished you were shaking less, but you were being coddled by a warlord. “You can drop me off at the nearest island, so you should…do that.” It came out a lot less assertive than you meant for it to, but you didn’t want to walk on eggshells. If he wanted, he could throw you into the ocean never to be seen again. Or even worse, cut you down, himself. If he can slice an entire ship in half without even trying…you didn’t want to think about what he could do to you. 

“No.” It was so matter-of-fact that it caught you completely off guard. He continued to look at you, analyzing everything on your face. “Your wounds need to heal, my island is closest.” It was a lie, but you had no way of knowing that. He wasn’t even entirely sure why he lied. He gave you what was supposed to be a reassuring squeeze, but it came across as a warning. 

“Okay…?” You were beyond confused at this point, and his short responses weren’t helping that. It just made it so much worse. But you were terrified, despite trying to appear as if you weren’t. So you settled as much as you could, and tried to put as much distance as possible while still being secured in his lap. Whatever his plan here was, he sure wasn’t going to talk about it. You tried to take the initiative, and said a small “Thank you for saving me.” 

It was all he needed to hear, and he looked a bit surprised. It wasn’t much, just a slight twitch in his eyebrows at most, and his eyes got just slightly wider. But he did his best to try and give a small. He wasn’t used to it, but he could see how scared you were. The smile was forced, but his eyes continued to not reveal anything. Maybe a small trace of contentment? You didn’t know him enough to be able to tell. 

Arriving at the island took at least another hour past that, but being out in the middle of the ocean made it hard to tell exactly what time it was. As the raft hit the shore line, you went to stand up and get off him, but he effortlessly kept you in place. “What? I can walk, you know!” Another attempt to get out of his grasp, was futile at best. You looked up at him with the best glare you could manage but it looked as shaky as you felt. 

“Not safely.” He shifted you a bit, carrying you with a single arm as he poked your ankle. It made you hiss, and he lifted an eyebrow in a ‘see?’ display. “You’re injured, I’m simply helping you.” He then shifted you a bit more to try and get you comfortable but it jostled you enough you quickly wrapped your arms around his neck with a small noise of protest. Your face was buried in his neck as you tried not to fall. 

If you could have seen his face, it would have been the biggest reaction you’d seen of him yet. His eyes were wide, and he paused for a moment, before giving a much more genuine smile. You reminded him of a child. He wasn’t sure exactly how old you were, but he would get to know. He cradled you with both arms, trying to return his facial expression to neutral. “Shh…it’s okay. I’d never drop you. You’re safe.” Even the tone had a twinge on sincerity. 

You gulped, and did everything you could to not fight against his grasp. It was difficult, you weren’t used to this kind of treatment anymore. It had been a long time since someone carried you like this…maybe you could indulge just this once. Besides, he made a point. Your ankle wasn’t in the best condition. You shuddered thinking about how bad it could be. If it hurt that bad from just a poke, what if you needed a real doctor? What if it got infected?

Though Mihawk wasn’t great at empathizing, he could tell you were panicking. He shushed you softly, and carefully brought you to a spare room in his home. It was fully furnished, with anything you’d reasonably need. Even some things you didn’t NEED but could want. He spoke to you softly, and it was giving you whiplash. The warlord who can end a person’s life with just a glance was treating you with kindness and even being accommodating. It was confusing you beyond measure. 

“Your house is huge…” Was the first thing you mumbled back at him as he eased the door closed with his foot. He walked over to the bed, and rested you on it. You weren’t going to make a big deal out of it, but when you were resting on the bed you couldn’t help it. “This is the most comfortable bed I’ve ever laid on in my life!” You let out a small giggle and got comfortable as you could with your injuries. “Is it…really okay if I stay here? I don’t wanna cause any trouble! The second I’m feeling better I promise I’ll get out of your hair!” You had realized you’d been a little too giddy, and didn’t want him to feel as if you were milking your injury. 

But he did give a rather large smile. Large smile for him at least. In response to your giggling, he let out a low chuckle. Hearing it was somewhat soothing, and the look in his eyes was something close to adoration. You think. It was so hard to tell with him…but regardless, he replied. “You can stay here as long as you’d like. As for the bed, it’s yours if you’d like it. I can always get you a new and better one. Money is no issue.” He pulled the chair from the desk over to where you laid on the bed, and took a glance at the small amounts of blood seeping through the makeshift bandage he’d given. 

He hummed, and walked to the bathroom, only to return with a first aid kit. “I’ll check them over, and then I can give you a better estimate on when you’ll be safe to walk again.” He slowly unwrapped each of the bandages, and worked slowly and carefully so as to not hurt you. He hummed a couple times, and you’d look between him and the injury. 

“What? ‘Hm’ what?” You got anxious, he was staring so intently at the bleeding. “Is it bad? What does ‘hm’ mean!?” It was getting hard to stay still, and when you tried to pull your leg away, he grabbed an uninjured part of it and kept it secured in place. 

“Be careful…a couple of these are going to need stitches. Which means no walking for around four weeks or so I’d say.” He looked at you a bit sympathetically, and pulled out the needle prepared to give you the stitches needed. “I apologize…it will hurt a bit, but I’ll make it as painless as possible. I promise.” The look in his eyes held some deeper meaning, but you couldn’t tell what it was. 

“Four whole weeks…of not walking…? Shit…I’m not going to burden or bother you or anything, right? I mean, not even just you but also. Wait, how many people live here?” You shifted a bit, and winced at the movement from your ankle. “And I’m bleeding on your bed sheets! I’m sorry! Just a few stitches and then I can go to a different island, I can see a doctor, It’ll-” He cut you off promptly with a look and short phrase. 

“You’re staying. I can help you, here. If you need to go anywhere in the mansion, I can carry you until you’re better enough to walk with me as a crutch.” His tone wasn’t quite harsh, but assertive. He addressed your question next, “As for how many live here. Just…two.” It seemed like he came to a conclusion of some kind, and smiled a bit to himself before smiling at you. “It’s safe here. No one should dare harm you under my care.” 

Rather it be for better or for worse, he had decided. You’d be staying with him indefinitely. You would come to realize that in time, but for the moment you were clueless. Simply settled on bed rest for a few weeks, you fell back asleep immediately following getting stitches. It really was a comfy bed, it’d be easier to have bed rest in this kind of comfort. If Mihawk seemed sure no one would hurt you…maybe it wouldn’t be so bad? He was a warlord afterall, so you doubted many would even do so much as attempt to harm you. 

You thought it would be easy, you really did. But he hardly ever left you alone! It was somewhat expected the first day or two, but a three and a half weeks? Of just laying in bed without being able to even stand up and walk? It was suffocating! He had asked a million questions, about everything to do with you. He didn’t even ask about your family, your friends, did he not care? He seemed content to have you talk about yourself though. Your responses were getting shorter, and he definitely noticed, but didn’t say much of anything about it. Simply continued with the small talk and questions. 

“Do you have a favorite restaurant back on your home island?” He’d ask. 

“Not really.”

“Did you have any childhood pets?”

“A couple.” 

“Is there a dream job you have?”

“Haven’t decided.” 

“What island have you heard of that you want to visit?”

You reached your breaking point. So many questions, and even when you slept! He’d be in that chair in the corner most of the time. You didn’t know what his endgame here was, but you were sick of being grilled about anything and everything. “WOULD YOU JUST STOP WITH THE QUESTIONS?” A glare was sent his way from you, but it faltered significantly when it was met with a glare right back at you. It wasn’t much, but it was the most anger you’d seen from him. 

“I’ll give you some space.” His expression was neutral once more, and he stood to leave, only to stop in the doorway. He seemed to hesitate there, and he turned back to partially face you. “I expect an apology for your tone. Screaming at me gets you nowhere.” He turned back but ended up deciding to say one more thing before fully leaving. It was a softer tone, as he said “I don’t wish for you to scream at me, I despise it so.” Before leaving the room entirely. 

You let out the breath you didn’t know you were holding. Did you…really just scream at a warlord? He took you into his home, cared for you, tended to you, and even carried you to the dining table for three meals a day! You watched him cook for you numerous times, but you still yelled at him? It’s not like he did anything wrong…he just wanted to get to know you. That’s all…right? You flopped over in the bed, and pulled the covers over your head. Beating yourself up won’t solve anything, but maybe some sleep would. 

You woke up not long after, extremely confused. The injury on your ankle…it wasn’t hurting. A little bit maybe, but not bad at all. What made you notice it, was your other foot had found a spot on top of the injured one in your sleep. It made you giddy beyond reason, thinking maybe it was almost completely better, and you could finally walk around! Maybe then you could go back to your home island, you missed everyone…and you were sure they were worried. You had been talking about running off to another island, so it might not be surprising you disappeared for a while, but you hadn’t even been able to write to them. 

Placing your good foot on the ground gently, you took a few deep breaths and placed the other one on the ground. You were bracing yourself, getting ready to stand up. It had been a whole week and a half, but if you bursted the stitches open it would be so much worse. Mihawk might get pissed at you…and you valued your life. He’s been kind for the most part, overly kind in fact, but he seemed focused on your progress in getting better. Putting a set back on that might make him explode and you didn’t want that. At all. 

You swayed between all the options, before taking one more deep breath and putting weight slowly on your ankles, being sure to favor the good one the most first. When that was fine, you put a little more on the other foot. After a bit, you were able to stand evenly on them both. You wanted to jump in joy, but you weren’t about to push the boundaries. After the little snap at Mihawk, you decided the best course of action would be to leave and head back to your island while he was gone. You’d overstayed your welcome, and now that you could somewhat walk again, it was time to go. 

It took a bit of practice to walk around the room, but you figured you’d rather start off with some small pacing, before making the long trek from the mansion to the shore. It wasn’t long into your pacing when you heard a knock at your door. Shit…so leaving without a trace wasn’t an option. But you were excited, you’d get to see everyone again. Maybe he’d show you where the rafts and boats were!

“Darling? Are you alright?” He called, his tone laced with worry. “May I come in? We need to have a discussion.” Those words made you hesitate a bit, it sounded serious. Maybe he knew you were feeling better, and decided to talk to you about returning home? It was all you could hope for. There were certainly much worse possibilities running through your mind. 

“Sure…” You were curious, but ended up continuing to pace even as he entered the room. “Look! I’m feeling so much better!” You made a demonstration of walking around the room. When you looked back at him, he looked conflicted. Like he also had many possibilities running through his head. It stopped you in your tracks, and you wanted to walk closer, but hesitated. 

“That’s wonderful, I’m glad you’re recovering well.” He turned to the side and came in with a tray. It had a few different kinds of food on it. “You never specified your favorite restaurant, so I attempted a few different types of food.” He walked to your bedside table and set it down. “Come eat. We can discuss a few things.” He said as he sat on the foot of the bed, before patting your spot to signal you to sit again. 

“I actually…wanted to ask you something.” You said hesitantly, and followed the instructions to sit by the bedside table. When you didn’t touch the food, he knew something was wrong. “Would I be able to have a small boat? Or a raft even! I could make my way back home, I’ve been here for so long now at this point…It’s time for me to go home. But thank you! For everything. You didn’t have to save me but you did and I really appreciate everything you’ve done for me.” You fidgeted with your hands, and avoided looking directly at him. While he’d been soft and kind to you, his power and authority still caused anxieties of what could happen. 

“Darling…” He scooted a bit closer and urged you to look at him. “You ARE home. You’re to live here, with me. I’ve given you anything you’ve wanted, why would you want to leave?” The word ‘me’ hangs in the air at the end of the sentence as he hesitated before saying the next sentence. “Have I done something wrong? Whatever it may be, I can do my best to fix it.” 

“No! There’s nothing you’ve done wrong, but I can’t just live here with you! I have friends I need to see, and my mom and dad-” That word shouldn’t have made him react that way…but it did. It made your sentence cut off on its own. His eyes were glowing more than usual, and his face was contorted with anger. He looked away and seemed to struggle with his own words as they came out. 

“I’m your father. It doesn’t matter if I haven’t known you since your birth, I care for you greatly. All of our conversations, I know I can be a better father to you than whatever the ‘man’ before me ever was.” He was getting closer now, and you were trying to retreat but he wasn’t having it. He looked over your face, and still saw fear. “Don’t worry, I know it must be confusing for you.” He chuckled a bit, but it was far from comforting as it was the first you’d heard it. 

“You don’t have to be ready to call me your father right now, but we’ll get there. As for your friends, I can find new ones for you. I will make sure they’re safe people.” He waved a hand in the air dismissively. “I would give you anything, darling…so I do hope you’ll be able to forgive me for keeping you here. You mean too much to me for me to let you go. If I were to do so, you could get hurt. Emotionally, mentally…and even physically. Those pirates deserved a fate much worse than I gave them.” 

“You’ll give me anything? THEN GIVE ME A BOAT TO GET OUT OF HERE! DON’T JUST ACT LIKE YOU CAN REPLACE EVERYTHING I HAD!” You were pissed, but this time you wouldn’t back down. Your anxieties and fears wanted you to, but Mihawk was saying you’d never get to see them again! As if people were replaceable! You leaned forward as you yelled and got closer to him, you flung the blankets off and tried to walk towards the door. “IF YOU WON’T GIVE ME THAT THEN I’LL FIGURE OUT HOW TO LEAVE, MYSELF!” 

You heard a sigh behind you, and as you went to open the door he was already next to it, shutting it and preventing you from leaving. His speed was much faster than yours, and you already knew well that his strength was too. You took a step back, and became fearful of his expression. It wasn’t angry, in fact it was back to the blank and neutral expression he had when you first met him. He’d put up the walls he’d slowly been taking down. 

He reached forward, and you flinched but he also wasn’t giving in this time. He placed a finger under your chin and tilted it so you looked at him directly. “Look at me, please?” He held your head there until your eyes met his. “There she is…my dear daughter.” He sighed, and when you opened your mouth to yell at him again, he sighed once more. “Please stop screaming at me, love. You know I hate it.” He grabbed your arms and moved you carefully, but firmly back to the bed. 

“YOU CAN’T-” But his neutral expression was scaring you more, and you found yourself unable to finish the sentence. There was so much you wanted to scream at him, the overflowing emotion was building up so much that tears started to fall down your face. “I’m not your daughter…” Was all you could spat at him angrily as he forced you further into the room. No matter how much you thrashed, you couldn’t hurt him. And he knew that. You both did. But you had to try…

“You are. I know you are. I knew the moment I saw you. Take your time, love. You can call for me when you need me, but for now I think you need to learn a lesson.” He spoke softly at first, before his tone became much more firm. You really…really didn’t want to know what he meant. But it became clear in the seconds following. 

He placed a kiss to the top of your head, before the door seemed to open and close instantly. He was gone. You should have known it’d be locked, but what you didn’t expect was just how sturdy the door was. When you banged on it, screaming for him to let you out, it didn’t budge in the slightest. Not even a small tremor from the strengths of your blow. That bastard must have planned this…was this his plan all along?

Only time would tell, but no matter how many times you had to do it…you’d try to escape. He can’t keep you here forever. He can’t…and he won’t. You’re resolved, knowing you’d go to further and further lengths to get out of here. You would return home…to your real home…no matter the cost. 

#reader insert #platonic! yandere! mihawk #yandere one piece & reader #& reader #fem reader #commission #writing commission #tw; injury #tw; switches

[mama-qwerty]

Poking and Protection

A commission from @biconic-disaster25 ! Thanks so much for your support! <3

~~~~~

Knuckles strode down the sidewalk, his footfalls not quite stomping, but not quite not. His brow pulled down into a deep furrow, his hands curled to tight fists at his sides.

Sonic followed after, arms up and hands behind his head, a little smile on his muzzle as though it were a leisurely stroll through the park instead of a punishment handed down because of their arguing.

The hedgehog had been poking at Knuckles for days. Every time the echidna made a mistake, or did something clumsily, Sonic would be right there, with his stupid fake announcer voice, “The most dangerous warrior in the galaxy, ladies and gentleman! Isn’t he impressive?”

At first Knuckles had tried to ignore it. It was just Sonic being Sonic, trying to get a rise out of him. He wouldn’t give the hedgehog the satisfaction. So he ignored it. Tuned the hog out as well as he could. He’d been living with the Wachowskis for a few months now, long enough that he knew how Sonic got sometimes. Poking and teasing and taunting until he grew bored and then he’d move on to some other similarly annoying behavior. It’s just how the hedgehog was.

But after three days, Knuckles was having a really hard time ignoring it. It almost felt like Sonic was following him, waiting for him to do something to comment on in that insufferable way. He’d turned and told the hedgehog to knock it off, and Sonic simply gave him that smile that looked innocent but was anything but.

“I’m just kidding around, Knux,” he’d said when confronted. “S’what you do when you’re in a family.”

Knuckles wasn’t sure how Earth families behaved, but that wasn’t what he’d done in his family. Back when he was a boy, when his tribe was still alive. He couldn’t remember a time when someone taunted him like Sonic was doing.

Then again, he couldn’t remember much of his tribe at all anymore. He’d been so young when they fell. And it had been so long ago.

But, back to the point, he’d tried to be calm about it. He’d tried to simply tell Sonic to stop doing the poking and taunting. And Sonic had continued. Knuckles had asked again. And again, Sonic continued. The third time was more of a threat, which Sonic didn’t take seriously.

The last straw had been when Knuckles dropped a fork as he was setting the table for supper. Sonic had snickered, and made a comment about how “big ol’ echidna mitts aren’t made for around the house stuff” and Knuckles saw red. He’d jumped the hedgehog, growling and yelling at him to shut his stupid mouth already.

In their tussle they’d knocked the meal Maddie had made onto the floor. The Pyrex dish shattered, rendering the chicken casserole she’d prepared completely ruined.

Knuckles had felt horribly guilty. He’d let his temper get the better of him, and now supper would be delayed because of it. Tom had broken up the fight, giving both boys a talking to, and sending them to the store for more supper supplies.

“Jeez, slow down, Knux,” Sonic called as he jogged to catch up with the echidna. “If you wanted to race, you could have just said so.”

Sonic’s tone infuriated Knuckles further, and he whirled on the hedgehog.

“Am I a joke to you?” he growled, baring fang. “You do nothing but taunt me, make fun of me, and harass me at every turn. Why did you want me to join your family if all you do is treat me like I am nothing more than something to be made fun of?”

Sonic clicked his tongue, and rolled his eyes with a frustrated sigh. “Oh, lighten up, knucklehead. It’s just a few jokes. Brothers kid around. They joke with each other. They tease and poke and make fun of each other. That’s just what they do.”

“Then why do you not ‘joke around’ with the fox as you do with me? You do not make fun of him, or ‘poke’, or taunt. Why is that?”

“Because . . .” Sonic paused, thinking for a moment before shrugging. “Because he’s Tails. I dunno. It’s just different with him.”

“Is it because I tried to destroy you?” Knuckles demanded. “Because I worked with your enemy? Is that why?”

“No!” A pause. “Maybe! I mean, come on, Knux. You find some weird bald dude on a mushroom planet and just believe everything he says? Just blindly follow him? You didn’t know who he was or what he was planning. He nearly destroyed the whole town!”

“I didn’t know! It was a mistake, and I greatly regret my actions.” The topic of Robotnik was a sensitive one for Knuckles. He felt great guilt for trusting someone so unhinged so completely, and for helping the man find the Master Emerald. He’d brought great dishonor on his tribe for such a foolish act, and prayed to his father for forgiveness. “How long will you keep punishing me for that?”

“I’m not punishing you,” Sonic said, his muzzle twisting in annoyance, arms crossed. “I just . . .” He paused for a moment, before uttering a frustrated sigh. “Nevermind.” He snatched the shopping list from Knuckles’ fist. “Gimme that. I’ll get the shopping done. Be back soon.”

The hedgehog zipped off without another word, leaving Knuckles alone on the sidewalk.

The echidna heaved a deep sigh, rubbing his face with his hands. That could have gone better. He supposed he couldn’t blame Sonic for still being upset about what happened. Knuckles had caused a lot of damage when he arrived with Robotnik. Threatened both Sonic and Tails during those few days. All because of some lies that blasted doctor had told him.

He felt like a fool.

~X~X~X~

Sonic grumbled to himself as he hurried through the store, pulling the items from the list into the shopping basket. A ruined casserole meant taco night. Quick and easy. Considering chicken casserole wasn’t exactly Sonic’s favorite meal, this ‘punishment’ wasn’t half bad.

His mind went back to the argument with Knuckles. Had Sonic been a little too mean to him? Not just a few minutes ago, but with the poking he’d been doing? He didn’t think he was intentionally taunting Knux because of how the echidna had come to be here, but then again, Knuckles was right. Sonic didn’t poke Tails like he did the echidna. But that was because Tails had been teased enough in his life. He’d been all alone since he was really little.

Then again, so had Knuckles. After his tribe fell, he’d been on his own. Wandering the galaxy, looking for the Master Emerald. Fighting in arenas and facing foes many times his size. All since he was little.

Had Knuckles wanted to be the most dangerous warrior in the galaxy? Sonic had never really thought about it. Maybe Knuckles didn’t have a choice. If he wanted to survive, he had to learn to fight. That wasn’t fair to him. He was just a kid.

It was something Knuckles didn’t talk about. Anytime any of the family asked him about it, he would simply shrug and say “I did what I had to in order to survive.” He’d never elaborate. Which, in Sonic’s experience, meant what he went through was something he didn’t wish to think about.

A pang of guilt twisted Sonic’s stomach. Maybe he had been kind of a jerk.

But, then again, Knuckles was so easy to poke. The guy couldn’t take a joke and always got so riled so easily.

Still.

Sonic checked out and grabbed the bags, greeting a few townsfolk as he hurried out of the store. With any luck he could catch up with Knuckles and make him carry the groceries the rest of the way. Maybe they’d have a race and everything would be better.

Smiling, Sonic zipped off toward where he’d left the echidna.

~X~X~X~

He screeched to a halt when he found Knuckles.

The echidna was surrounded by a half dozen teenagers. He knew these kids, and they normally weren’t a bad group. Just . . . teens. They hassled him sometimes, but not too bad. But now they encircled Knuckles, laughing and reaching out to shove him as they snickered.

“Not so tough now, are ya?” one called as he gave Knuckles a rough shove in the shoulder. “Not without your buddy Robotnik.”

“I heard they never found Robotnik’s body,” another said, crossing his arms. “Maybe he’s still alive, and this thing’s working undercover. Still helping him.”

“Why did they let you stay here?” a third asked, giving Knuckles a harder shove. “You should be in jail for helping a criminal.”

Sonic’s fists clenched. What they were doing and saying was bad enough, but the way Knuckles was acting was worse. He stood with his gaze to the ground, tail drooping. There was no resistance, no defending himself. He was just letting them do this. Letting them pick on him and taunt him.

As though he deserved it.

Anger flared in Sonic’s mind and he rushed forward, pushing through the circle to stand before Knuckles.

“Hey guys, how ‘bout you leave him alone?” He tried to keep his voice light, but it was hard to do with clenched teeth.

When Sonic arrived, the teens’ demeanor changed. Their smirks and sneers changed to smiles, and their body language went from threatening to more relaxed.

“Hey, the hero of Green Hills!” one said, and Sonic felt Knuckles flinch behind him. “You his parole officer, here to take him back under house arrest?”

The other teens laughed at that, and Sonic flicked a glance over his shoulder to find Knuckles’ shoulders slumped.

Oh, that’s it.

“Ya know,” Sonic said, his trademark snark leaking into his voice. “You really shouldn’t tease the most dangerous warrior in the galaxy like that.”

The teens’ laughter died off and they looked at him in confusion.

“Most dangerous warrior in the galaxy? Him?”

“Absolutely. This guy here,” Sonic turned and curled his arm around Knuckles’ shoulders, pulling him close, “just about took me out. Didn’t even break a sweat. I woulda been done for if not for Tails, ya know, hitting him dead on with a car.”

The teens exchanged a few glances. “Really?”

Sonic nodded. “Didn’t even phase him. Dude was back up in seconds, and nearly took both our heads off without hardly trying.” The teens were quiet now, and Sonic continued. “He survived a hidden temple loaded with deadly traps, went head-to-head with me and gave me a good run for my money, then saved my life, AND jumped off a plane without a parachute.”

He flicked his eyes from one teen to the next. That shut them up.

“All that, and he still came back to help take down Robotnik. I never would have been able to beat the egghead if Knuckles hadn’t weakened him first.”

He didn’t mention the Master Emerald, because he knew Knuckles was uncomfortable with announcing its existence and whereabouts. Still, everything Sonic had said was true. Knuckles, for his naivete and gullibility, was a force to be reckoned with, and always did what he thought was right.

Sonic couldn’t fault him for that.

“Now, if you’ll excuse us,” Sonic said, leading Knuckles out of the group. “The most dangerous warrior in the galaxy and the hero of Green Hills are expected at home. It’s taco night.”

Sonic shifted the grocery bags to one hand and gripped Knuckles’ wrist in the other, zipping off toward home.

~X~X~X~

“Why did you do that?” Knuckles asked once they’d slowed down to a more leisurely pace. He’d taken one of the grocery bags from Sonic and they weaved through the trees toward home.

“Why’d you let those jerks pick on you like that?” Sonic asked with a shrug. “You could have defended yourself.”

Knuckles shook his head. “What they said was the truth. I helped Robotnik. I should have been imprisoned for my crime.”

Sonic clicked his tongue. “Don’t be stupid. We wouldn’t let anyone do that to you.”

“Why?”

“Because you don’t deserve that. You didn’t know you couldn’t trust him. You only wanted to finish your people’s quest. You weren’t doing anything just to be a jerk.”

“So I would have been imprisoned if I were being a jerk?”

Sonic shrugged. “Maybe.”

“Then why aren’t you in jail?”

The hedgehog snapped his head around. “Was that . . . a joke?”

A little smile curled Knuckles’ lip.

“The most dangerous warrior in the galaxy has a sense of humor,” Sonic said with a smile. “Who knew?”

“I did. I find things funny.”

“You never laugh at my jokes.”

“I laugh when things are funny.”

“Har, har, echidna.”

The two shared a quiet moment as their house came into view. Knuckles stumbled over an exposed root, nearly falling on his face before catching himself. He glanced to Sonic, who had a little smirk.

“Don’t say it.”

Sonic snickered.

“Don’t.”

The smirk grew, and Sonic gestured to him. “The most dangerous warrior in the galaxy, ladies and gentleman!”

“You will not have tacos tonight, hedgehog,” Knuckles growled. “Tonight you will have a knuckle sandwich!”

Sonic snorted out a laugh and ran for home, with his brother hot on his heels.

#sonic fanfiction #writing commission #sonic the hedgehog fanfiction #knuckles the echidna #sonic wachowski #knuckles wachowski

[m-y-fandoms]

COMMISSION: TW - SDR2 Boys Stop You from Committing Suicide (comfort endings)

Some scenarios take place during the DR3//No Despair era at Hope’s Peak and some during the SDR2 island killing game. SDR2 SPOILERS INCLUDED

Word Count: 10K Words

TRIGGER Warnings: DO NOT READ IF YOU CAN’T HANDLE THESE TYPES OF SCENARIOS. All sections are angst or depressing but end with the character comforting or saving the reader and the reader’s plan isn’t successful. Self-harm and plans of suicide are discussed and detailed. Situations and objects like drowning, pills, guns, knives, poor mental health, and more are included. PLEASE KEEP IN MIND DANGANRONPA IS RATED M for 17+ and canonically includes themes of murder and suicide. You are responsible for the media you consume. Keep reading below with these warnings in mind if you so choose.

Hajime Hinata

It’d been days without food and you felt like you were officially going crazy. Apparently it wasn’t enough that you’d been forced to see your classmates die in the most painful, cruel ways, betray each other, lie,  and scheme, now you had to starve on top of it all? You couldn’t take it anymore: the dryness of your mouth, the grumbling of your stomach. One thing right after another, days turned into weeks of misery, of despair even. But that was Monokuma’s goal all along. You barely ever left your cabin these days, fearing you’d see the worst side of one of your classmates in the form of a swift knife to the back as soon as you stepped out. You barely trusted anyone other than your best friend Hajime anymore. It was so hard to, when you’d trusted Mikan, the meek nurse, Peko, the intelligent and disciplined swordswoman, Nagito, the chill dude putting up an entire act to hide his craziness. Your cabin was always locked with you inside. You hated leaving, and now you were stuck in this damned funhouse, tricked here by that monsterous bear. You felt delirious: mental health declining, hands shaking, mind drifting.

You looked around your room - one of the average rooms in the funhouse’s living quarters - dimly lit like some villain’s secret hidden cave. Scattered around the floor were weapons you’d obtained as a reward for clearing the Final Dead Room, along with scraps of paper lined with scrawled plans and ideas. The ravings of a mad person it would likely seem to anyone else who viewed them.

Your plan seemed simple enough: Kill Nekomaru, make it obvious that it was you, get executed as the blackened and confess and insist, should it not be obvious enough. You wanted people to witness, to be convinced it was you so you could leave this wretched island forever. You felt like you were taking the coward’s way out, but you just couldn’t push yourself to do the job on your own. Maybe you were a coward, but you just wanted out, as soon as possible.

The plan was to make it as painless as as possible for the robot, if he even felt pain. That’s why you chose him as the victim in the first place. Honestly, it was adding to your rapidly plummeting downward mental spiral, the way your peers were treating Nekomaru. It was driving you fucking crazy. They acted as if it was just… normal. None of this was normal. Nekomaru was your friend, flesh and blood, and now he was just this… thing, this metal abomination. It’s not him in there, you’d repeat over and over like a mantra in your head when you saw the bot. It was disrespectful to his memory. Were you the only sane one here, side-eyeing the bot, avoiding him out of discomfort? You found yourself asking: If they uploaded an AI of my personality into a computer, is that me?

No.

It’s not. You all should have just accepted that the real Nekomaru was gone forever. It would be merciful to kill his replacement instead of a real human. It’s wouldn’t even be an actual murder, no guilt on your conscience. Monokuma wouldn’t see it that way though, and that’s all that mattered.

“(Y/N)?” You are shaken out of your mindless planning, sucked out of your thoughts by a knock at your door. Hajime. You recognized his voice and panicked at the state of the room around you. Hajime was a dear, always doing rounds to check on his friends, especially in this particularly stressful situation. As you and he were a closer as friends, he tended to check on you a little more often. You ignored his knocks, sent into an frenzy as you started kicking papers under the bed and hiding as many weapons as you can. You hear the handle jiggle and the door opens quickly behind you. Hajime spared no time when he’d gotten no reply from you. He’d lost too many to take his time anymore. A second too late could mean death for a friend, as he’d learned. You could’ve been dead, passed out from hunger, injured.

He freezes as you turn to face him like a deer in headlights, taking in the insane scene before him. He was definitely looking at the pile of weapons scattered everywhere - definitely noticing how unhinged you looked - and immediately begins questioning you, closing your door behind him for some privacy. It’s when you start stuttering, sputtering out excuses and deflecting that he truly takes in your mental state. You look completely deshelved and unwell, worse than everyone else though you were all starving and on edge.

“Where did you even get all of these?!” He gestures to the murder tools in desperation, just wanting an honest answer from someone he actually trusted. When you reveal the existence of the Octagon beyond the Final Dead Room, he presses you further: “Well what were you planning to do with all of them?” He is apprehensive of your answer. Seeing the genuine look in his eyes that seemed ever-present, you broke down, sighing deeply. You run your hand down your face, defeated,exposed. He sees you visibly sink into yourself as you prepare to finally give it to him straight.

“Look, Hajime, you and I have always been honest with each other. You’re one of the few here I can truly trust so I’m just going to admit what’s going on here… I feel like I owe you that much. I’m not proud of this but…” You hesitate, feeling like finding conviction in your words was an insurmountable task. Your bottom lip began to quiver. You’d held these plans confidently inside your head, but you’d yet to acknowledge them aloud. “... I was going to take a life tonight… I was going to make myself the blackened and then confess, taking someone with me…” Your voice breaks, ashamed of your words.

The room goes quite for a while, as Hajime just stares at you, thinking, not sure what to even say. He hadn’t expected you to be so blunt, though his assumptions were confirmed. You can see his chest heaving in the silence, hearing only and his loud exhales. You’d seen Hajime carry your class through trial after trial, seen him peice together complex evidence. He wasn’t stupid. He inferred in his mind as he stared that your target would be Nekomaru. You see the gears turning in his head. It made sense, as you loved hanging around the boisterous team manager before his transformation, and after… you seemed to avoid him like an ex at a party. He knows… but he doesn’t want to say anything, doesn’t want to have this difficult conversation.

Slowly, so gently, he simply sinks down to your level as you sit there resting on your shins on the ground. He pushes some of the mess aside, looking you in the eyes before wrapping his arms around your starving body. You let him, not moving an inch, taking in his warmth. Maybe this is what was intended for you, maybe you needed only to hear his next words:

“You’re not going to do this, okay?” You feel him nodding, his chin tucked into your shoulder. “I’m going to be here for you, so I need you to be here for me too, right?” Hajime wasn’t always the best at comforting others in his own opinion, but you knew he was trying his best. Rather, others would say he was good at comforting his friends, but he felt awkward while doing so, like he wasn’t built for mushy moments. “We’ll escape this together: you, me, and everybody else. You have to keep trying for them, too. You can’t do that if you’re dead, right?” He chuckles, trying to lighten the mood as the stress rolls down his brow in the form of sweat. He felt like cringing at his own words, wondering if he was helping at all. “If you do this, Monokuma wins, and I sure as hell know that you don’t want that. You’re needed here and wanted here, and I know you’re stronger than this.” He feels his shoulder become soaked as your silent tears roll down your face and through his shirt. “H-hey, can I stay here tonight, with you?” He was asking, but you were going to have to physically remove him if you said no.

Nagito Komaeda

You’d been staring down at the knife in your shaking hands for what felt like an hour. In reality, it couldn’t have been more than fifteen minutes. The blade was long, sharp, gleaming silver. How easy it would be to just… end it. You hesitated, thinking about the pain. How much would it hurt, based on the location of insertion? What was the quickest method to just get it over with?

You sighed. You’d miss playing games all night with Chiaki to avoid thinking about more dismal matters. You’d miss discussing true crime with Sonia, late night snack runs with Akane - whom you always felt safe with. Most of all though, you’d miss Nagito, who you’d developed quite the friendship with. His complex thought process and quirky personality fascinated you, and it was never a boring time when he was around. He seemed to like being a loner, always planning or deep inside his own head, but he didn’t seem to mind when you tagged along. In fact, he sometimes remarked that he didn’t deserve your company, and complimented you skills as an Ultimate student. You’d miss knowing someone as unique as him and having them actually enjoy your friendship.

The room around you made you shiver. The ambiance was so cold and hostile. Now past the Final Dead Room, you’d found yourself rewarded by stepping into the Octogon, a hidden room just beyond. Honestly, if you hadn’t picked up better problem-solving skills through trials and the help of your more intelligent friends like Nagito and Hajime, you may have never completed the Final Dead Room. The Octogon, different from the escape room before it, seemed to be a bunker, a weapons cache filled wall to grey wall with deadly tools of every kind. There was even a fridge that contained lethal poisons. When Monokuma described a reward for passing the Final Dead Room, you’d expected a secret passage out of the funhouse, or maybe some food at least. You should’ve known better.

Tearing your eyes away from the knife, you are startled as the door back to the Final Dead Room behind you bursts open. Nagito Komaeda of all people stumbles into the Octogon, his usual casual lanky form slinking in. His expression was carefree, that standard stoner-adjacent look glazed over his face… as if he didn’t just complete a deadly game of Russian roulette to get here.

“Nagito?! What are you doing here?” You panicked, not expected to be walked in on in this vulnerable state.

“I could ask you the same thing, (Y/N)...” He smiled mischeviously. “I followed you here, of course!” Oh yeah, of course! Why hadn’t you thought of that? “Couldn’t let you have all the fun! To my surprise, when I tried to enter the Final Dead Room behind you, Monokuma stopped me and said I had to finish when you were done. Everyone’s expected to take on the Dead Room on their own, apparently.” He held his hands up and shrugged. “So, after I passed the Final Dead Room, Monomi confirmed that you were through the door at the end.” He sighed. “What a pain to have her in there as a distraction though. I was hoping to catch up with you immediately. Oh well…” You stood stock still, the knife still in hand, so unsure of what to do. How was he always so nonchalant? “So this is what Monokuma’s been hiding back here, huh?” He looked around, taking in the myriad of weapons like they were nothing of note. Then his gaze trailed back to you, scanning you up and down. “By the way, why are you holding that knife like that?”

You suddenly feel extreme embarrassment run up your spine, your skin heating up. Your lack of words tells Nagito everything he needs to know. He was highly astute and intuitive, and you could see him analyzing the emotions laid bare all over you face. Nagito was always a step ahead. You could see it every time you were with him, from playing a simple card game in your cabin, to the seriousness of a class trial. It was near impossible to get one over on him. You feel sweat run down your forehead as you realize he’s figured you out. You’re too kind-hearted to kill someone else, and you’d confided in him at length about your ongoing poor mental state, how you couldn’t take this anymore and felt drained.

Over the many times you’d hung out with him, he’d grown to care about you enough to stop this path you were going down, and sensed the potential for a great wellspring of hope to burst forth from inside of you. He saw you as worth saving, and found himself genuinely caring about your fate, so slowly, he approached you, reaching out for the knife in your hand. When you don’t resist, he coaxes it out of your grip and quickly moves to distract you.

“Huh, that’s weird. Wonder where that window leads…” Gesturing over your shoulder, he leads you over to the very small square window, the only window in the entire room in fact. He hopes silently that the embarrassment of being caught and the knowledge that he’s watching you is is enough to stop you from attempting in the future.

~

It was now well into the night, and your new plan was in motion. This time you’d move at night while Nagito was sound asleep in his luxury sound-proofed room. Everything was seeming to fall into place.

It was already established and agreed upon that Grape Tower and Strawberry Tower were the same location with Chiaki’s eHandbook test. It was still debated amongst your peers just how they could be the same room or how the elevators worked, but now you and Nagito knew better. The window in the Octogon had revealed to only you two what the true secret of the funhouse was. The two towers were one big column, and the floor shifted up and down like an elevator. Your plan was solidified as soon as you realized this fact. A fall might hurt far less than a slow bleed-out. It could be instant death if you did it right.

You’d made a deal with Kazuichi, the Ultimate Mechanic. He trusted you enough to let you keep it vague, and his hunger exhuastion certainly helped with him not giving a fuck about your reasoning. You all knew that the doors to Grape and Strawberry Tower couldn’t be opened at the same time. Everyone assumed it was so that they appeared to be different places to trick you all, but now, you and Nagito knew it was so the floor of the towers could move up or down, concealing the risk of a fall. You simply asked Kazuichi if he could disable this function in the doors so that both tower doors could be open at any time. He was tiny bit hesitant at frist, but nearly started drooling when you showed him a huge toolbox you’d allow him to keep if he used it to do what you asked. It was so very tempting, but led him to worry about where you obtained this treasure in the first place, and if Monokuma would be upset about him meddling with the doors. You alleviated his fears by assuring him that there were no rules against it in the eHandbook and that you’d take the heat if Monokuma got mad. While he paced, you pushed him, stating that the offer was quickly expiring along with the precious toolbox. In the end, he just couldn’t resist those new toys, especially when trapped in the monotony and starvation in the funhouse.

So now here you stood, looking down at the perilous drop from the high-up door to Strawberry Tower onto the floor of Grape Tower. You felt empty inside, both literally and emotionally as you hadn’t eaten in days. There was a hollow, grim feeling to the neon tower at night, something uncanny. Unlike the knife, once you lept, that was it. It would be freefalling, out of your hands. It might even feel like a relief. There was no pushing a blade in further, this would be much easier. You’d left a note in your room stating it was suicide, and trusted your closer friends to confirm your handwriting. Hopefully they didn’t think it was some trick by a real blackened.

Your heart was racing, blood pounding in your ear. You take a deep inhale, and hold your breath. Closing your eyes, you step a single foot out over the ledge to the fatal fall.

Silently and sudden as a gust of wind, a lithe pair of arms wrap around your waist and pull you back. The movement is desperate, sudden and jarring. You gasp and stumble back, falling on top of your rescuer with a thud. Nagito groans beneath you with the force, knocked over with your weight. You knew it was him, by the voice, the smell, the paleness of the arms clasped in a vice-like grip around your waist.

You both say nothing for a while as the severity of the situation sinks in. Suddenly, like a tsunami, a wave of emotions hit you, and you begin to sob at the reality of what you were about to just do. Your chest hurts and your tears flow freely down your face and onto Nagito below you, spattering onto his skin. You want to yell out, to scream What was I thinking?!, to curse yourself. He squeezes you once, as if to say:

You don’t need to say a thing…

“It’s a good thing I happened to be out for a walk, huh?” He speaks after a long while, letting you calm down. He continues his deflection: “Looked like you were about to slip!” He clears his throat and begins to run one bony hand through your hair to comfort you, allowing you to lay there on his chest for just a little longer.

Nekomaru Nidai

There was a simple beauty to the warm, sunny beach out behind the diner on the second island. The sand was soft and the water always looked serene. Usually, you’d come with friends and swim or have a little picnic, but today you were there alone, and for much less pleasant reasons. The beaming sun and tropical scenery stood in stark contrast to the dark clouds inside your mind.

You were floating out in the middle of the water, pondering. It was all too much. Something was so off: this island, the killing game, even your classmates at times. Nothing about this all felt real to you. You didn’t feel real, lost in your own head, a prisoner in your own body. It was bad enough you’d watched Togami and Teruteru die gruesomely, or that you’d just recently sent Fuyuhiko to the hospital after the deaths of Mahiru and Peko. It was traumatizing, and yet it felt so… unreal. And it would only continue. You were sure of that, despite the naive positivity of some of your classmates.

You wanted out, to just disappear without a trace. You felt hopeless and trapped each and every day on this maddening island. You hated the mocking feeling of being stuck in a killing game in a beautiful paradise like this, the irony. If everything went according to plan today, you’d successfully swim down as far as you possibly could, hold your breath, and when you couldn’t take it any longer, hopefully not have enough air to make it to the surface. Hopefully, you’d sink to the bottom of the ocean with a big gulp of water in your lungs. Maybe if your body was never found, there would be no trial. That was the only selfless part of this plan if you managed to pull it off: no trial, no work put on your classmates to solve it. After all, a body had to be found to start an investigation.

Without hesitation, you began your last journey, swimming straight downwards into the deep water, making sure to take a pathetic inhale beforehand to make this all go faster. Maybe, just maybe, you’d wake up on the other side, feeling real again. Once you reach the bottom, you sink into the sand bed and begin to pass the time by thinking of the few things you would miss about this island hellhole, the friends you’d made even though you seemed to lose another each week.

Your heart started to race as you thought about Chiaki letting you win in that first person shooter. Your lungs began to sting and you think of Ibuki and Sonia forcing you out of your comfort zone with new music, activities and movie genres. The sting turns into a burn, and you try to push back any second thoughts as Akane’s tough love and Nekomaru’s beaming smile come to mind. The tried their best to make you feel better, support you, uplift you. They actively put time into making you stronger, in both body and mind. The valued mental fortitude just as much as a healthy body. They made you feel seen, like your company was never a burden, like a big brother and sister. Their blunt honesty could be so refreshing.

Lost in your thoughts, you begin to feel it in your throat. It’s coming… You begin to gag, choke, drown. Struggling on instinct, you kick your feet and grasp at your chest. You look up to see the sun shine down through the water, and feel… sad. It was the last thing you’d expected to feel. You were sure you wanted this…

The last thing you see before your world goes dark is a large shadow swimming in your direction. The muffled sound of movement, an object rushing toward you is all you hear before you let yourself go.

~

Without warning, you’re conscious again. You have a feeling you’re not on the other side when you feel your back  being slammed down onto the sand of the beach. There’s a pressure on your lungs, nearly bursting them and your eyes fly open in shock. Sputtering, you flip onto your side and spit out what feels like a gallon of salt water. You cough up a lung, so dazed that you nearly miss the large shadow completely eclipsing the sun, looming over you.

Nekomaru spoke, and the sheer volume of his deep voice startles you. You turn to face him and find that he looks sad, a rare expression for him. You’d seen him jolly, determined, angry even, but rarely sad. He looked… disappointed, on his knees right before you, so close. You hated that look on his face, even more knowing you caused it. After a long sigh, he began to speak:

“I was in the diner eating lunch… Through the windows I saw you swim out and go under but… after a while, you weren’t coming back up. I’ve seen you swim many times before… you’re an amazing swimmer, I know it. I really hope this was an accident… but-” Before he can finish, you throw yourself up and into his arms before he could see you cry. You hid your face over his shoulder, begging him not to finish his sentence. You didn’t want to acknowledge it, to hear the hurt in his voice. You just wanted someone you cared about to touch you, to make you feel real. He was always on your side, rooting for you, you didn’t mean to hurt him like this. The sand stuck to your soaked bodies as you held him, begged him to hold you back. When you whimper, trying to hold in your cries, he finally does.

“When you’re ready, we can talk about this, and for as long as you need,” he grumbles.

Gundham Tanaka

Gundham, although he was an amazing friend - your best friend in fact - wasn’t the best person to vent to. He had a ton of shit of his own to deal with, you could tell. He came with a lot of emotional baggage locked deep inside. The facade and dramatics, it was all an act, a wall he put up to protect himself from the world that hurt him as a child, the world that made him feel irreparably different. You couldn’t exactly vent about your long-term depression and anxieties to someone who would turn it into a lecture on demonic energies or a pep talk about how you were one of the most powerful mortals he’d ever come across as the Supreme Overlord of Ice. Sure, it would cheer you up sometimes, his theatrics would often make you laugh, but it was always temporary. Besides, he wasn’t a therapist, trauma dumping on him all the time wouldn’t be cool, and he obviously coped by escaping into his realm of fantasy. Why would you want to possibly rehash any old wounds of his by bringing him back down to the realities of Earth? You had too much love for him to do that.

You spent as much time with him as possible, though. It was one of of the few things that brought you joy anymore. You’d lost interest in most if not all of your old hobbies. He sensed it, you knew, but became awkward and nervous, never knowing quite how to both cheer you up and stay on script.

Hope’s Peak provided Gundham with a building of his own on the large campus. It tripled as a sort of animal reserve, rescue, and clinic. Most Hope’s Peak Ultimates had their own space dedicated to honing their talent, and this was his. That was the most important part of their school day after all. The other subjects were second priority. Gundham referred to the Ultimate Breeder’s building as his dark temple, his sanctuary of gloom, always something to that effect. He rarely let anyone who wasn’t in the breeding club enter, and even then he kept a close eye on its members. You joined the club because you cared for him, but you doubted he would ever kick his best friend out regardless. He often made exceptions to his rules for you, using some excuse about how he’d baptized you in shadows to make you worthy, or placed a protection spell first.

The breeding club building was truly impressive. There were medical wings, feeding stations, training rooms, even outdoor yards and runs for the animals to feel free. Everything was so well kempt. The place was split up to accommodate different animals and keep prey and predators apart, and there were some dangerous predators to be found there. You’d even seen Gundham bring a perfectly trained bear to class before. Everyone was in awe that day.

In the clinic area, you sat waiting for Gundham to bring some restock supplies. Sitting there with only your own sadness to keep you company, you began to drift into the dark recesses of your mind yet again. It felt like a daily occurrence lately. You felt insecure, worthless, dangerous. Across the room, you gazed into the cage of a particularly nasty breed of snake. It was deadly venomous, and seemed to be calling out your name. Without thinking, as if in a trance, you raise to a standing position. It feels like you’ve lost all control of your limbs as you hover over toward the testy reptile. Unlocking it’s cage door with a click, you reach in, letting the snake coil around your hand with no reluctance, like a person possessed. Like you had nothing to lose.

Being Gundham’s ward, it’s pretty well behaved already, but still new to the rescue and with a slight feral side not yet trained out completely. With your free hand, you grab its head gently and press its mouth into your wrist. You bump its nose into your skin, not enough to hurt the snake, just irritate. Gudham wouldn’t approve of you hurting any animal. You could never. With a small hiss, it pulls back slightly and strikes forward, latching its fangs down deep into the flesh of your wrist. You cry out, feeling something for the first time that day. The fangs were long and dug in snuggly.

Gundham’s deep voice startles you, booming as he enters with the box of supplies in his hand. He’s boasting, something about how the check-ups would go smoothly with you there to assist today when his words are cut off by the sight before him.

The snake in your hand was just now pulling its fangs out of your skin, and you had a horrified look on your face at his sudden appearance, like you didn’t want him to see. His mind started racing, instantly in fight or flight mode - more like save or let die mode - fitting for a man who spends so much time around creatures that run on survival instinct. You drop to your knees, the venom already beginning its work. Your rapidly numbing hand fell to the ground, the snake safely slithering down and onto the floor. Gundham rushed over to the snake, scooping it up and locking it safely back into its cage to secure the area.

You started feeling woozy, feeling heat creep up your arm and spread through your veins to your shoulder and chest. It both hurt and felt tingly, like a limb that had fallen asleep but was simultaneously on fire. Your head began to pulse like a searing migraine, and you were sure the stress of having Gundham there to watch your downfall was making it worse. Your vision was now swimming, blurry and dimming. Gundham is rushing over to you, grabbing you up into his arms, but his yells are muffled as if there were cotton balls in your ears. And then, with a sudden surge of pain in your lungs, you black out.

~

When your eyes finally crack open, you find them sensitive to the light above. You look around slowly, taking in the familiar surroundings of Hope’s Peak Academy’s hospital wing. You gasp softly when you try to move your right hand and feel resistance tugging back. You glance down, tearing up when you see a bandaged hand firmly clasped around your own. Gundham is pulled up in a comfy chair next to your hospital bed, his head resting on the bed beside your thigh. He’s sound asleep, probably sleeping off the stress you put him through. The curl at the end of his striped hair lays across your blanket. He looked intense even unconscious, his brow furrowed, scrunched up in worry. You said a quiet thank you to his sleeping form, running a hand through his hair lovingly. You assumed that if it weren’t for Gundham quickly administering one of the antivenoms he kept on hand in his clinic, you would’ve been dead before you could even reach the main building’s hospital across campus. You imagined that the view of him carrying your limp body across the grounds in a sprint would’ve been a sight to see.

Fuyuhiko Kuzuryu

You’d been friends with Fuyuhiko for years. You, him, and Peko formed an inseparable trio growing up. Peko felt an overwhelming urge to protect you at all times, but you constantly begged her not to, to lay off, as her job was to live to protect Fuyuhiko, and nobody else. You didn’t want to get her in trouble, and his parents already hated you. They saw you as a pest, a bad influence on their son and a distraction from his destiny of being the clan’s leader one day. You had no yakuza ties, you were just a kid from the same side of the city who got mixed in with little Fuyuhiko as kids. Boss Kuzuryu would’ve loved to be rid of you, and it would’ve been easy too, but his stubborn son convinced him years ago that if he wanted his blood in Hope’s Peak Academy one day, he would have to be used to being around “normal” people his age sooner or later.

You, Fuyuhiko and Peko would sneak around Kuzuryu territories and never get caught or scolded. Being in the company of the boss’s son did help of course. With Fuyuhiko’s knowledge of his father’s empire, you learned where not to go and when, patrol schedules, enemy territory lines, meeting spots and so on. It was like some kind of adventure. As kids, it felt like playing pretend: criminals, thugs, crime lords, avoiding police. Except it was all real. Your parents rarely knew where you truly were, as you lied to spare them from heart attacks.

After over a decade together, you truly loved Fuyuhiko, maybe even as more than a friend, though you’d rather die than ever admit it. He was easier to get along with than people gave him credit for. They were intimidated by his family’s reputation, but you knew the real him. He could be a hothead, but he genuinely cared about the people in his life. He was unlike many other yakuza member’s you’d met, often only putting up an uncaring front because he felt like he had to. You’d always been close, but as you began school at Hope’s Peak, a distance began to grow between you. As you got older, you’d begun to feel this odd, uncontrollable sense of sadness deep within. Each year as another birthday passed, it got worse. It was getting harder and harder to ignore. You’d often withdraw from Fuyuhiko and Peko, not wanting to burden them with this depression you couldn’t seem to shake. Fuyuhiko wasn’t good at talking about feelings anyway. Peko was no better. They certainly were no one’s therapists, and you didn’t want to put that on them anyway. How could they fix you when you yourself didn’t know what was wrong? You were starting to feel pushed to the edge by your own mind. You couldn’t go to therapy either. It felt humiliating. Your best friend was the toughest guy in the world. He would never step foot in a therapist’s office.

You’d had thoughts lately, unsafe thoughts about a permanent solution to the problem. You’d try to push them back, but without support, with your own mind betraying you, you felt more and more hopeless each day. You felt like you needed him, to talk to your best friend before you did something stupid. So right after classes were finished for the day, you headed off campus to the Kuzuryu complex. You knew he’d be there right after school on this day of the week. You also knew that weren’t supposed to go there alone, that it was extremely dangerous to be on Kuzuryu property without an escort, but you were desperate. You’d held onto this for far too long.

It wasn’t until you were skirting along the brick wall to the back entrance of the main Kuzuryu mansion that your heart began to race with second thoughts. The inital gut feeling that stopped you from reaching out to Fuyuhiko in the first place months ago was back in full force. Maybe this was the wrong choice. Fuyuhiko had so much on his plate. He didn’t need your cry baby ass dumping your feelings onto him. Maybe he and Peko would be better off without you in their lives at all. Maybe… the initial thoughts you’d woken up with this morning were the right ones.

You peeked around the corner of the wall. This was dangerous territory. Everyone in town knew to avoid this area if they valued their lives. Non-clan members who entered were liable to be shot or shanked on sight. That didn’t happen often though, as the locals had enough common sense. Fuyuhiko had to be inside, and would’ve come out to get you if he knew you were coming.

But you didn’t want him to know anymore. You wanted to just end it, to fade away and never bother anyone ever again, to never feel this way again.

Before you can change your mind yet again, you round the corner into the courtyard preceding the back entrance, and the guards are alerted immediately. Their guns are trained on you with practiced percision. You prepare for your life to be over, for the pain of bullet fire and screw your eyes shut. The yelling and swearing of the guards, prepared to pull the trigger is abruptly halted when you sense a presence in front of you. You open your eyes to see Fuyuhiko standing before you, arms outstretched in a protective stance. He’s swearing like a sailor at his underlings, face red as a tomato with rage.

“Fuyu..hiko?” You sniffle, barely above a whisper. This feels unreal, that a miracle like this would happen to you in what should be your last moment. The petite gangster guarding you was burning with a level of anger too hot to even have your meek voice register in his mind.

“How dare you point that damn gun at (Y/N)!” He was ranting, on a temper-high, and his subordinates were cowering with every word. Upsetting the boss’s son was not a good look for them. Finally satisfied with the amount of fear he’d struck into them, he ordered them to get lost, before things got worse for them. Now alone with you in the empty courtyard, he turned to face you, taking a deep breath to calm himself. That anger should be reserved for the deserving, and he hated when you saw him get like that. He knew he could be a dick, a tempermental jerk at times, but he had a soft spot for you and hated to see you upset. Seeing your forlorn expression finally for himself, he grabbed your shoulder, ushering you off and into the side room he’d entered from when he first saw your foolish ass step into the courtyard alone. Bringing a thumb up, he wiped a tear from the corner of your eye that threatened to fall. “Come on, we have to talk.”

Teruteru Hanamura

Your best friend on campus, Teruteru Hanamura loved cooking for you. Of course he loved cooking, he was the Ultimate Cook after all, but he found it especially rewarding to cook for someone he truly cared about. He was like his mother in that way. You always taste tested his newest culinary creations and were brutally honest about your reviews so he could improve. He spent many lunch periods making you extravagant meals. He refused to let you pack your own, order out, or eat at the cafeteria. It was a win-win: the school saw every minute he spent cooking as him honing his ultimate talent, and you got free food. You guys would chat it up for hours, playfully flirt, and just enjoy each other’s company.

Much to his chagrin, he started to notice you coming to your lunch meet-ups less and less these past few months. When you did show up, you didn't seem as excited as you used to be. He assumed it was normal for most students at one point or another. School work and the pressure to excel at such a prestigious school were probably just stressing you out. He was more of a glass-half-full kind of guy, so the possibility of it being anything more serious than that rolled right off his back. It was out of the question. He didn’t even want to think about such negativity. 

It wasn’t until you stopped coming altogether that he realized he might have to.

You’d miss lunch, and plans to hang out after school hours, and stopped texting back as much. It deeply saddened him. Food was his way to show he loved you and cherished your friendship, the way he expressed his creativity and feelings to the world. If he couldn’t share it with his closest friend, he didn’t want to share it with anyone. In his mind, he’d already attributed your behavior to stress, but maybe you also just weren’t interested in being his friend anymore? You sounded more solemn than usual on the phone, and even with your tone through texts. He wouldn’t be surprised if you didn’t like him anymore and just wanted to let him down easy. He was a bit much for most people.

After pacing and getting into his own head for hours in the kitchen, he worked up the courage to go to your dorm room and finally have the talk, to confront you directly and ask if he’d done anything to upset you. Sweating bullets outside your door, his fear of confrontation and hatred of negative energy was creeping up on him. With a big gulp, he swallowed before knocking with false confidence. He knew you were in there, he heard your TV through the door and somewhat knew your schedule. This is were you would most certainly be at this time after classes. He called out to you, and when you didn’t answer, he jiggled the door handle, suddenly fearing that maybe the situation was worse than he might’ve once thought. Finding the door unlocked, he gently pushed the door open and crept in.

He finds the room completely dark save for the light of the TV. In the flashing of the screen, he can see the piles of garbage and clothing all over your floor. He scanned the environment anxiously, shocked at the state of your dorm. Then he finds you, sitting up in your bed, blankets covering your legs, silent as the grave, You’re just staring, as if in a trance, completely emotionless. He can see your phone lighting up on the bedside table, notifications buzzing, but you make no move to react.

“(Y/N)?” He can’t believe he’s seeing you like this. You were like a zombie, an empty shell of the person he knew and loved. When you don’t answer, he moves to sit on the side of the bed, concerned. He tiptoes over cautiously, not wanting to trigger any negative response from you. What he sees now, up close to you in the dimly lit room makes his eyes widen in horror.

On your lap, on top of a plastic plate is the cheapest, most unappetizing plate of budget spaghetti he’d ever seen, likely from some cafeteria or corner store. It looked like something a student would keep as a midnight snack in their mini fridge just in case they were starving when everything was closed, a quick fix. That wasn’t the worst part though.

No, the worst most definitely had to be the entire bottle’s worth of pills you’d seemingly emptied on top of the depressing-looking noodles. A plastic fork sat nestled in between the noodles and the pills, as if you were just about to begin eating before he arrived (perhaps in the nick of time).

It’s in that moment he realized exactly what was going on here. This was all so overwhelming to him, but his first priority was saving his best friend. Again, with the intention not to trigger anything, to not overstimulate or make anything worse in mind, he moves slowly, constantly checking your expression or any change or sign of stress. His shaking hands take the plate in their grasp, and he pulls it back and safely away from you. His voice cracks when he finally speaks again.

“H-hey! (Y/N), y-ya know… food is love… food is…” he struggles for the right words, so unsure of his ability to be what you need right now, “... food is beauty, and a very, very good thing! Food is meant to heal and nourish your body, never hurt it!” He smiles weakly, taking one of your limp hands in his own, and you feel his warmth transfer over, flooding into you. “We don’t have to talk right now, but I’m gonna stay, o-okay? I’m gonna stay right here.”

Kazuichi Souda

Kazuichi was stressing. He’d never felt this much in a bind in his entire life. When it came to his own negative feelings and problems, he usually felt fine expressing himself, often yelling or crying if he needed to, letting someone know they’d upset him. When it came to comforting others, it always felt so damn awkward, and it was a feeling he’d like to avoid if he could. He was just no good at it. He was torn now, as it was his own best friend who needed his emotional support, and he’d run away like a selfish coward, hidden from the stress of the situation. He was afraid, and now the situation seemed to be boiling over, to the point of no return.

You were obviously going though something, and could tell. He was closer to you than anyone. He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t noticed a definite decline in your energy, the amount of sleep you were getting, and general happiness lately. He’d also be lying if he said he wasn’t avoiding a direct conversation about it. He didn’t even know what to say, or if his advice would help. He was no professional, and growing up with a dad that abused him verbally and sometimes even physically, he’d learned to cope with trauma and depressive episodes in his own ways. There were times that he’d have to push back his own feelings to move on when his dad was involved, so how could someone like him help others?

Something that always helped him feel a bit better about himself was altering his outward appearance to satisfy his own sense of self expression and aesthetic. He’d once advised that you get a piercing, dye and cut your hair, buy some new clothes when you were in a particularly dismal mood. You didn’t seem to go for it. In fact, he later felt like a dick for even suggesting it, like maybe now you thought he wasn’t taking you seriously. You’d made an excuse to go back to your dorm almost immediately after the conversation.

He’d felt like an asshole for being a little more distant with you the past few days, but he just felt like a colossal loser for not being able to help one of the most important people in his life. It was overwhelming. What if you wanted to be alone right now? What if him trying to help ended up making it worse? Pacing his mess of a room, he ran his hands through his pink hair, clawing over his scalp in stress. He felt overstimulated, mind bouncing dozens of thoughts around at once.

He stopped, taking a deep breath to try and narrow these thoughts down and make an actual, reasonable plan. At the end of the day, the most important thing was the well-being of his friend. The end goal had to be to get you help or help you himself so that your friendship could get back on track to the normal, happy every day routine that you both loved. The end goal was for sure in his mind: to see his friend smile again and see a familiar glow of happiness radiate off of them. To exorcise this depression permanently, or to at least take the first steps in that direction. If he had to put aside his own feelings of embarrassment and anxiety to achieve that… well, he felt like that goal was worth almost any level of uncomfortableness.

He put his foot down, now resigned to just do what he’d wanted to do deep down for days. You would do the same for him if the situation were reversed, and he knew that. From his room on the opposite side of the dormitory wing, he made his way down the long hall until he reached your own dorm room. You were so very close, but felt so far away when he shut you out for the comfort of his own room. Now he was here, ready to finally give his all to help you like he should’ve the whole time. Even if you just needed a shoulder to cry on or someone to vent to, he wanted to pull through and be there for you until he could guide you through the next steps.

Silent before your door, he was about to knock when he picked up a sound from the other side. He recognized your voice instantly, and you were crying, weeping quite loudly inside your room. This triggers something in him, like a need to protect you, like hearing you in pain hurts him as well. Without thinking, he grabbed the door handle and threw the door open. It’s unlocked, carelessly as if you were just coming in from class and thought of nothing else but your current goal, one-track mind not even bothering to lock your door for safety or privacy. Your school bag and books are thrown haphazardly on the ground and he looks for you, following the source of the cries to the small side bathroom that every dorm room contained.

He nearly lets out a shrill scream of shock when he sees you standing in front of your bathroom mirror, holding a little silver razor blade up to your wrist. It looked like you were building up the courage, so ensnared by your own miserable thoughts that you didn’t even notice him until he was already leaping forward and yelling out your name. You looked up, wide eyes streaked with tears and puffy with redness.

“Kazuichi?!” Your voice is hoarse from crying and you feel so taken aback by his sudden appearance, so small and vulnerable. You felt foolish, caught in this compromising situation, embarrassed that someone you cared about so deeply would ever see you in this state. He didn’t seem to care about that though, only concerned with getting you back down to a safe mental state in this moment. He eyed you, then the razor blade in your hand.

“Please… please don’t do it. Please,” he begs you, one calloused hand reaching out toward you, palm outstretched. “I can’t let you go there. Please, don’t make me watch you do this because I refuse to leave, so…” His voice shook, and he inched closer, hand still ready for you to make the next move. Exhuasted, humiliated, and ready to submit to his help, you concede. You place the razor safey flat-side down into his palm, and he quickly discards it into the trash bin behind him, itching to get it out of his hands expeditiously. With that out of the way, he grabs you around the shoulders, pulling you into a hug that’s almost suffocating. He crushes you against his chest, and feels you shaking, breathing slowly evening out in his embrace. You let your eyes fluttered closed, let him help you stabilize.

“I am… so sorry for not taking this as serious as I should’ve. I never thought it would get this bad!” You could hear him crying. Kazuichi was never one to be afraid to shed tears when he was overwhelmed. You liked that sensitive side of him. “I’m sorry from running from your issues. I’m here now… I’m here.”

Byakuya Twogami

You were fascinated by the self-appointed leader of your little group. Ever since the killing game began, people kind of looked to him for guidance because he had a sense of authority and true confidence in his voice. There was a commanding tone and conviction to his words that you assumed was native to one of his status.

You were interested in his family business and the very different world of the elites like him in general, as you’d made it to Hope’s Peak on pure talent alone and not due to any nepotism or financial status. Attending the academy was the first chance you really had to get out of your old neighborhood and see how other people lived. It had been a miracle that you’d been scouted. The Togami family was just so vastly different from yours in every way. You wanted to know how it all worked. You often found yourself following him around and asking him questions that he probably found tedious and trivial. They were questions that he was probably asked in every interview, or with every new friend who tried to cozy up to him for his money and influence, but those were never your intentions. What began as curiosity for his different way of life turned into you simply enjoying getting to know him. He could even have a sense of humor on occasion, even if he didn’t see it that way.

Eventually, he would start to delegate you to little tasks to help him out, as if you were one of his retainers. In his mind you were competent and he respected you enough to trust you with the work. Overthinking, you took it as him just trying to get you out of his hair. You felt kind of bummed out, like you were probably getting on his nerves and bothering him. His style of communication was so different from your own that you would’ve never guessed that him getting rid of you and spending less time with you could mean he respected you, even if there was a task involved taht required you to move on your own. What made it worse was that you spent so much time with him that you really hadn’t gotten to know any of your other classmates. You weren’t close with any of them so it felt awkward to be walking around without Togami by your side. Interacting with a bunch of people who had already seemed to sort out their friendships might be a bit awkward and uncomfortable. Fortunately, there were a lot of extroverts in this group that would probably pull you in and make you feel right at home as soon as you reached out even mildly.

~

You couldn’t believe what you were hearing right now. Everyone had agreed that the killing game was absolute nonsense, because none of you would ever stoop so low as to actually kill someone for any reason. Yet here you were eavesdropping on a concerning conversation between the seemingly harmless Nagito and the careless Teruteru. Nagito was planning to start up the killing game at the party you all were planning tonight and it didn’t seem like anything would stop him. You could hear the fear in Teruteru’s voice as he tried to speak sense into the much taller, lanky boy. Nagito already had a weapon hidden under a dining table, had sent threatening notes out, left little hints to put his plan into motion. It sounded completely and utterly insane!

You were there in the first place because Togami asked you earlier that day to scope out the party building stealthily and quietly. He wanted someone he trusted to gather any dangerous instruments or note any faults in the architecture that could cause an injury or allow secret entry. Nagito and Teruteru were there cleaning and setting up the food and decorations for the class party later that night, but Byakuya seemed suspicious of the both of them when he spoke on it. It wasn’t hard for you to see why now, when not too long after sneaking into the building, you happened upon this conversation. You had to tell someone, of course, but who would believe you except maybe Togami himself? Nagito and Teruteru could always deny it and it would be your word over theirs. The class might believe you over Teruteru, but Nagito seemed really well liked within the group.

When you relayed Nagito’s plans to Togami later, it felt like he already knew somehow, like you only just confirmed his feelings. You didn’t know how he knew, but he seemed to be taking it seriously. He asked that you share this info with no one else, and told you not to worry as he had it all under control.

~

How could you not worry about it? Now, at the actual the party you’re unable to relax, on edge even in the presence of amazing food and happy people. You’re nearly shaking with worry, trying to psych yourself into believing that Nagito would change his mind. He was bluffing… he’d chicken out. Everything would be okay. Togami would handle it! Maybe he talked to Nagtio on the side before the party, maybe that natural intimidating aura of his convinced Nagito to let go of his nefarious plans. Teruteru sure seemed to be perky and proud of his food spread tonight, so surely the whole murder plan was off the table. Why would he be so calm otherwise, when he was terrified earlier?

When the lights abruptly went out, everything changed. You panicked, and everything seemed to move in slow motion. Your heart rate spiraled out of control, adrenaline kicking into high gear. You followed your instincts to dash over to the back table, the one Nagito was standing next to just before the lights went out. You had to get to that weapon before him, You wouldn’t be able to live with the guilt of knowing you could’ve prevented this by warning the entire group if Nagito succeeded in killing someone. You knew this plan was in the works. You trusted Togami to stop it before now and here it was: the moment of truth. You had to act. You weren’t close with any of these people, but they all seemed to already care for each other, if even just a little bit. It was better if you died here over anybody else. It had to be your duty after the information you chose to withhold from them. It wouldn’t have been fair.

As you were about to dive under the table in the dark, you feel a strong grip on your arm. You are lifted and thrusted backwards and away from the table. You yell out, fearing an altercation with Nagito and preparing for a fight, but as you fall back onto your butt with a thud a few feet from the table, all physical contact ceases. There’s a commotion, and you scramble backwards in the dark. There’s confusion and chaos, and then the lights turn back on.

~

You wouldn’t know until you were gathering evidence for very the first class trial later that night, that Togami had taken your place under that table. The arm that pushed you back had been his. While you couldn’t see him, he used night vision goggles to see you and died in your place. You couldn’t help but think that maybe if you trusted him when he said to trust him, let him handle it and didn’t get in the way of the table, he would’ve had a second or two more to think and react… and maybe he wouldn’t be dead. It could’ve been you, and you would be eternally grateful for his sacrifice, even if he didn’t plan for it that night,

You vowed to spend whatever time left you had on this miserable island avenging him by and honoring his memory while you all worked together to stop Monokuma.

#danganronpa #trigger happy havoc #reader insert #x reader #super danganronpa 2 #danganronpa v3 #danganronpa killing harmony #nagito komeada x reader #nekomaru nidai #kazuichi soda x reader #fuyuhiko kuzuryu #hajime hinata #teruteru hanamura #gundham tanaka x reader #byakuya twogami #angst #gender neutral reader #commission #writing commission #fanfiction commission #comfort #tw suicide #daganronpa imagines #scenarios #fanfiction #slow burn #sfw #tw self harm #danganronpa fanfiction #ultimate shsl

[kiryoutann]

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Six months later.

It's so beautiful.

Green grass under the warm sun. A fresh breeze stirred the decorative flags that were hung all over the capital Mondstadt. Gothic architecture is still strong and stands as the main attraction of this country. The river that flowed outside the great wall was reflecting the white clouds that extended beneath the azure sky. Those who are busy with their daily activities are surrounded by the scent of dandelions. Little ones are playing and running around.

Mondstadt is so beautiful. Unfortunately, you spend all day sleeping on the soft bed provided in one of the palace rooms for royal guests.

Childe left the room early in the morning for a diplomatic meeting, so the opposite side of the bed has been vacant for a while. You (thought) you managed to persuade Sasha to let you sleep a little longer, but instead she assumed you were sick and immediately asked Laura to find Childe.

“Love?”

Here he is. You pulled the covers over your head, trying to ignore the sound of his approaching footsteps. The end of the bed was pressed down and you guessed he was sitting next to you. Slowly, Childe pulled your covers up to look at you.

"Are you sick? Want me to call a healer?”

You shook your head quickly, "I simply want to sleep a bit longer."

Childe glanced at Sasha who was standing not far from the two of you before turning back to you. "But, angel, you've slept all day, and they said you have to attend a tea party this afternoon. Well, I don't mind if you don't but, are you sure you're alright?” He brushed away the strands of hair covering your face.

"I'll be fine. Just.. give me one more hour of sleep.” You spoke drowsily and then shut your eyes once again.

Childe frowned in worry. "Are you sure? Should I stay? I can tell them I have urgent business and leave the conference—”

"Don't be silly, Ajax." You opened your eyes to glare at him. “Why do I feel you’re trying to make me as an excuse to get out of your responsibilities?”

A laugh from him. “Hey, I was really worried you know.” He says.

"I told you I'm fine. I'm not going to die, at least not now."

"I thought we agreed not to have talks like this again." Childe stares in disappointment and you can't help but laugh.

"Good God, I was just kidding." You cupped his face with one hand. “Stop sulking like a baby. I might actually ask you to stay and cuddle with me."

A smile appeared on his handsome face as he drew closer to you, “Hmm? What's stopping you?"

Meanwhile on the other side of the room, Sasha and the other two were trying hard to deaf their ears to the conversation you both thought was quiet enough for them not to hear. Her eyes darted to the walls of the room as if that was the most interesting thing. At least that will distract her from you and Childe who are too preoccupied with each other to notice anyone else's presence.

A kiss on your lips. “I'll hurry back for you alright? Don't look at other men at the tea party." You almost roll your eyes at his words.

“It’s a tea party only for the ladies.”

"You can never be too careful."

Childe got out of bed and you already started to miss his warmth. He briefly spoke to Sasha, saying that she should immediately call a healer if anything should happen to you. After giving you one more glance (and a wink), he walks to the door to Dmitri outside the room.

A sigh left you before you got up reluctantly asking your maids to prepare warm water for a bath.

One rosewater bath later and you're sitting at the dresser. Laura did your hair, while Ksenia applied your makeup. She patted the powder pad so gently you yawned. Sasha noticed this and stared suspiciously at your reflection in the mirror. You took a deep breath trying to relieve the tiredness in your body.

"We are finished, Your Majesty." Laura and Ksenia said together.

You said a small thank you to them then got up from the chair. Laura opened the door for you, letting you leave the room first. Your three ladies-in-waiting followed behind you on your way to the garden where the tea party was being held.

Warm air hugs you as soon as you step into the palace garden. Butterflies and a few small insects flutter and land on the colorful flowers that grow around you—you almost forget how beautiful they are after living on Snezhnaya for so long. Once more, the wind blows. The sun falls to illuminate your path to the gazebo with a white iron roof where a table spread out with beautiful cloth is located. The sound of your footsteps turned the heads of the Mondstadt nobles, and you smiled at them all.

“Empress (Y/N), good afternoon.” The blonde-haired woman—Countess Jean—carved a thin smile with her polished pink lips.

Some Mondstadt nobles you've never met before welcome you. Jean stood next to them while helping introduce them one by one to you. “This is Lady Fischl, daughter of Duke Verurteilung of Immernachtreich.” A green-eyed blonde bowed politely at you before giving an enthusiastic look.

“Empress! I, Fischl, hast known all kinds regarding thou, especially how  they define thy grace and beauty as being comparable to the stars that adorn the welkin at dusk. Wouldst  I may add, thy lovely gown caught mine eye and wondered where I might find some one with such stitching talent!”

"Ah? Um..” While trying to figure out what she said, you lifted the hem of your dress slightly. "This was made by a Snezhnayan tailor."

“'tis decided. I shall cross mountains and sail oceans to meet this tailor!"

Jean cleared her throat awkwardly. “Lady Fischl, may I continue?” she asked, earning a nod.

After Countess Jean introduced you to the Mondstadt nobles who were present at the tea party, Princess Ayaka waved enthusiastically. “Princess—! Ah, I mean, Empress! Please sit next to me!” She pointed out the empty chair next to her.

Jean watched as everyone had taken a seat. She then continued, “Since King Diluc doesn't yet have a partner to handle the tea party, I'm the one responsible for this. For that, allow me to present traditional Mondstadt delicacies for overseas guests to taste.” She signaled the maid to put the snacks on the table.

A cake covered with pink cream and fresh raspberries is set in the middle. Lemon buttercream cakes make you smile seeing their small size. You looked around the table as Jean described each dish. The cookies placed in front of Ayaka appeared to be delicious.

What smells like boiled eggs wafts into your nostrils, and you instinctively cover your mouth to hide the nausea that's roiling in your gut. Ayaka immediately got a handkerchief for you. Sasha who is sitting at the table along with other nobles ladies-in-waiting rushes over to you.

“Princess!” Ayaka mistakenly called out from panic.

“Your Majesty! Is something the matter?!”

You were too occupied trying to ease your nausea as you covered your nose with a blue handkerchief to respond to Sasha. Jean orders one of the maids to call a healer. You glance out of the corner of your eye for the source of the pungent scent.

"That.. the smell.. get rid of it, please." You said after finding a loaf of boiled eggs not far from Jean. "I'm sorry but, the smell .."

Jean followed your gaze and nodded quickly. “No need to worry, Empress (Y/N).” He gave the plate of bread to the maid to take away. "The healer will come soon."

A server arrives with a new meal just as your nausea begins to subside. The smell of eggs returned. The handkerchief was tightened over your lips as the shaking of your stomach intensified. Sasha noticed your face beginning to flush and rose up from her kneeling position in front of you to approach Jean.

“Your Excellency, I'd better take Her Majesty to a healer right away. Please accept my apologies for leaving the tea party early.” He says.

“I understand. Please, lead them to the healer's room!”

In response to the blonde's request, one of the maids nodded. Sasha and Ksenia put strong hands on your shoulders helping to support you while stroking your back. Laura pulls out a bottle of fragrance trying to ease your nausea. The long hallway was filled with hurried footsteps on the way to the healing room. After passing through the door, the royal healer immediately tells you to lean on the red velvet couch.

The first thing she did was check your pulse. Her warm fingers touch your skin as she furrows her brows in concentration. She pursed her lips thinly, asking about your monthly cycle—which Sasha answered in detail. You feel awkward knowing she knows about it more than you do.

The healer nodded while retaining an assumed diagnosis. "I already have a suspicion, but I'll need to confirm it again." She dipped her hands in a basin of clean water before turning back to you while making sure her palms were raised; you watched as the water dripped down her elbow. "I must request that you remove your dress, Your Majesty."

Although the examination is uncomfortable, you know that it is necessary for the healer to confirm the diagnosis. After she was done, Sasha helped you put on your clothes again while waiting for the woman to tell you what was wrong.

"There are several reasons besides pregnancy that can affect your late monthly cycle, such as stress or fatigue. However, after I combined that with the nausea caused by the strong smell—the smell of eggs as one of them—and the physical examination just now that revealed enlarged breasts and changes in areola—I can confirm that you are pregnant.”

Laura and Ksenia gasped with joy. Sasha smiled silently. While you are frozen.

The healer's lips curved up, “Congratulations, Empress (Y/N). You are with child.”

Something defines the brilliance of this world's hues. The basin is no fuller than your heart which flows happiness and emotion to every inch of you. The realization that there is another life growing inside your tummy sweetens the air. You want to set your foot on every green meadow here to let them know that you are the happiest human being on earth.

As you covered your mouth to contain your sobs, your hold on the fabric of your dress' grew tighter. Your maids approach you to congratulate you. You couldn't help but extend your arms and hug all three of them. Women celebrating other women's blessings

You wiped your tears, looking at Sasha with a smile.

"Please don't tell him just yet."

Sasha's eyes widen from that, but what she gives you next is a smile—a warm one. You wouldn't have realized she was holding you if it wasn't for the light squeeze she gave; her way of telling you that she will continue to be with you and wants nothing but the best for you and now, your child. Laura and Ksenia congratulated you, saying they would do their best to accompany you on your pregnancy journey.

Aside from the promise made by Sasha, it's another one that makes you smile with blushing cheeks.

In your room, Sasha instructed Ksenia to prepare warm water for a bath while Laura hurried to inform Jean that you were unwell and couldn't continue the tea party. The ball is being held tonight—that's reason enough for Sasha to force you to stay in bed and take plenty of rest.

When they dress you in a mauve dress for the ball, your ladies-in-waiting make sure not to tie the bodice too tightly. Diamonds and gems accessorize your neck, ears and fingers. You try to hold back a smile when you see the door swing open showing Childe ready in his nice suit. He leans against the arm of the couch, blue eyes sweeping across your back carving a thin grin before he meets yours and gives you his usual wink.

"We are done, Your Majesty." Sasha told you.

"Thank you." You got up from your seat, not missing the enthusiastic stares of your ladies-in-waiting.

Childe holds out his hand to receive yours. He squeezed it gently before bringing it to his lips, a chaste kiss you received from him. "Are you sure we shouldn't skip the ball and cuddle the night away?"

“Absolutely. Besides, I heard that Mondstadt has the best wine.” You reasoned that even if you knew full well, there would be no alcohol going down your throat tonight and in the months to come.

"Firewater is still better in my opinion." Childe said, leading you to the door.

The sound of music is heard the second you enter the ballroom. A resounding blend of harp and piano throughout the opulence. Many of the guests had dragged themselves onto the dance floor, their partners clutched tightly in their hands. You and Childe get greetings from several familiar faces, but not a few Mondstadt nobles who you don't recognize have the courage and courtesy to introduce themselves and give a warm welcome.

“Emperor Childe.”

When Childe and you turned around, two men were standing there, one with red hair and the other with dark blue strands. Both of them had long hair, with the only distinction being the height of their ponytails.

“King Diluc.” Your husband holds out his hand for a handshake.

Diluc Ragnvindr. The red-haired King of Mondstadt who reminds you of fire. You wonder if he's hiding a smoldering spirit behind his polite face. He was present in another set of his dapper suit. Unlike at Snezhnaya's recent banquet, he appeared with his long hair pulled up into a higher-than-usual ponytail.

Diluc gave you a brief nod before turning to the man next to him. “Allow me to introduce my brother. This is Duke Kaeya. Perhaps you have not met." He said, making your attention fall on the man wearing an eye patch.

“Ah, right. This is the first time we have met, Duke Kaeya.” Childe shook his hand.

Kaeya painted faint dimples on his tan skin. "It is an honor to meet in person such a wise person as you, the Emperor and Empress of Snezhnaya." He gave Childe a friendly smile, which you swear turned into something else when he swept his dark eyes across you.

Diluc's red eyes widened as he watched Kaeya hold out his hand asking for yours. He didn't have to do this, but he chose to do it. Childe watched as you offered your hand hesitantly. A kiss that was too long for Childe not to think anything of it landed on the back of your hand. Kaeya opened his eyes to look at you accompanied by a smile that had a meaning behind it.

“Welcome to Mond, Empress (Y/N).”

If looks could burn, Kaeya would have already emptied all the drinks in here to quell the fire that was searing him. You swear you heard Childe pulled out a light scoff. Kaeya straightened his back again with an expression close to satisfaction.

“Ahem.”

Diluc made a fake cough noise, but it was more to remind Kaeya to keep his boundaries than to break the uneasy silence between the four of you. "Kaeya is known to be friendly with others, so I hope you don't take it the wrong way, Your Majesties." He says.

Childe laughed dryly. “Does this mean Duke Kaeya is also friendly enough to take me on a little tour around Mond?” His voice is sweet, but you know the intent in it contrasts from that.

"Why, of course, Your Majesty." Kaeya smiled widely and placed his right hand on his left chest. "It would be my pleasure.”

This situation is too heavy. You want nothing more than someone to save you from this and luckily, Diluc has the ability to read that. "If you'll excuse us, we have to greet the other guests." He then turned to the buffet. "Do enjoy your time with banquets and refreshing drinks like grape juice."

“Thank you, Your Majesty.” You said.

Childe and you turned the other way while Diluc and Kaeya started walking toward the other nobles. You take a deep breath before emptying your lungs again.

"I would appreciate it if you would stop picking fights with every man I talk to."

"He was flirting with you." Childe stopped in his tracks.

You hastily put your hand in front of his lips stopping him from letting out a longer protest. "Could you get me a glass of grape juice?" you ask him.

Childe furrowed his brows, "Not wine?" You shake your head.

Although not completely convinced, Childe gives you a kiss on the hand then tells you to stay here. You see his figure walking to the buffet table. His broad shoulders make you smile. You sweep your eyes around to relieve boredom.

Strands of blonde caught your eye. You remember she has longer hair; now it falls a little lower than her earlobes. The woman with gold eyes was spinning in an orange gown, in the arms of a man with nearly the same hair color as her. His eyes could still be seen through the mask that covered the right portion of his face.

The smile on Lumine's face was so wide it radiated happiness.

Footsteps draw your attention to Childe, who is holding a glass of grape juice and another of what you assume is dandelion wine. He handed you one. You stared at the liquid before taking a gulp, feeling the sweet taste on your tongue.

"Do you like it?"

You nodded, "It tastes better than I imagined."

"Wanna bring home ten barrels of it?"

A laugh from you. "One bottle is enough, Ajax." You said.

In the midst of a sea of people, a figure stands out for some reason; you're not sure why; it could be his complex fancy suits, the way he carries himself, the power in his gaze, or the fact that you've known him all your life. You greet your old friend with a smile on your face.

Zhongli made strides towards you with a handsome smile. Under the extravagant chandeliers, amber eyes sparkled beautifully. Childe did not take his blue eyes off his every move.

The man stops right in front of you for a bow, "Your Majesties."

Weird to hear that from him. Even though it had been six months ago Childe had inherited the throne and three months ago Snezhnaya had declared it an imperial state; You think you'll never get used to all this. Let alone one that came out of Zhongli.

"Duke." Childe gave him a smile that didn't reach his eyes.

“Duke Zhongli.” You called him enthusiastically. "It's.. a surprise to find you here."

Zhongli nodded, “His Majesty Emperor Shiva is unable to attend. I've come to represent him at his request.” He says.

“Make sure you do well, Duke.” Childe commented.

Zhongli pretended to be blind by the sharp glare Childe gave him. “I appreciate the concern—

"Who said I was concerned?"

“—but, everything is well.” Zhongli continued despite being interrupted by him.

Your lips were about to part to change the topic to break the pressure between the two when a woman bumped into Zhongli and spilled her glass on him. Her voice is sweet, making you turn to look at her and stop in place.

“O-oh my! I'm so sorry! I was careless and—”

A laugh from Zhongli. "Nothing to worry about. Are you alright?”

Zhongli asked the woman—the woman you saw in your vision. You're completely convinced after casting a glance at the hanfu she's wearing. Zhongli continued to talk to her with a big smile that seemed to be permanently etched on his face.

"This is my first time here, and I've already ruined someone's expensive suit. I'm truly sorry!” The woman kept apologizing to Zhongli.

"As I said, this is nothing, Lady..?"

“Guizhong! My name is Guizhong.”

Guizhong.

Guizhong appeared in front of you with everything that made you believe she would be a good fit for Zhongli. You watched her give him a blue handkerchief. Long fine strands of hair. She's clumsy, but you find that to be cute. You wonder if Zhongli thinks so too. They were lost in their new conversation and every word they exchanged dripped happiness into the depths of your heart.

The promised happy ending had at last arrived.

“Duke Zhongli, Lady Guizhong, “You have their attention.

Guizhong looked at you and then at Childe before bowing deeply in regret. “Goodness! Your Majesties! M-may prosperity and health be bestowed on you! I'm sorry I should have realized sooner." She tightly shut her eyes after hearing your chuckle.

"Please rise. Forgive the interruption but, we'll leave you both to your talk."

Zhongli turned to face Childe who was grinning happily at you. "Now?" he asked.

"Yes." You turned your gaze on the area where people were dancing. “I suddenly want to dance.” You turned to Childe. “Perhaps the Duke can bring Lady Guizhong for one.” You said to Zhongli.

Those amber eyes stared at you in curiosity and confusion. In your heart, there is one thing you want to tell him: that happiness is close to him. But, just as Zhongli and Guizhong gave nods and let you go, you twisted your heels and tightened your grip on Childe's arm.

"That’s scary." Your husband comments.

“What is?”

Childe slowed down as he reached the dance floor. "Your smile. You look like you've planned something and it's working." He put his hand on your waist.

A chuckle escaped your lips. You put your hand on his shoulder, and he starts picking up on the melodic tempo of the music. “If so, will you stop sulking and dance properly?” You see the annoyance reflected on his face again.

"How could I not when nearly every in the room—in all of Tevyat—was trying to flirt with my wife?"

"They were just talking to me, Ajax." you corrected.

“They were flirting with you, angel. Don't try to manipulate my memory."

A sigh comes out a sign you give up arguing with him. Childe took you for a twirl. "You are the most jealous man I have ever known." You then continued, "I can't imagine how you'd react when the other one showed up."

The frown in the middle of his brow deepened before his limbs came to a complete stop. He gave you a dumbfounded look. “Wait, what are you—” His expression now full of hurt. "—you're.. you have another man?" He spoke with trembling, and you stifled a laugh in the guilt that you were covering up.

"Well," Your hand tried to lead him to dance again but, Childe refused to move his feet before you answered him. "After all, I'm still not sure if it'll be a boy or a girl, right?"

Confusion hit him like a tsunami even though his betrayed expression was still there. “A boy or a girl? What kind of nonsense are you playing—”

“I’m pregnant.”

The words died suddenly on the tip of his tongue. Childe stared at you with wide blue eyes. The blood seemed to be drained from his face before returning to fill his cheeks.

For him, the world came to a halt for a brief minute. His brain stopped functioning. His ears suddenly went deaf leaving your voice and those words repeating over and over in his head. His mouth gaped open. His heart was pounding inside his ribs pumping out the feelings he was still digesting. Then a tsunami of happiness washed over him, so overwhelming that his lips curved and he sobbed as he took you in his arms.

It was one moment he wished could stay forever. Even so, Childe—Ajax, is aware that there will be more happy things in the future. With you, with now—his unborn baby. At the same time, Childe felt and desired a lot.

In the middle of the melodies that flowed from a combination of piano and harp, you hugged him even tighter. He is the luckiest man in the world. His heart felt like it was wrapped in satin and moonlight. You laugh, but it's his chest that warms. What a dream this is, and God has the generosity to make it not end up as one. Perhaps He knows: happiness should come in the form of a really sweet fruit for two human beings who have suffered for a long time.

Childe gave you a smile before laying a kiss on your lips. He didn't mind if he had attracted everyone's attention as a result. The music could stop but, he wouldn't with this. He placed another one, still not caring if people would label him unethical.

“I,”—he kissed you again—“love,”—another one—“you.” He said in between kisses.

You both left the ballroom early that evening. The moonlight filtering in through the opened window illuminates the bed where you lie down for a cuddle. The wind of Mondstadt's capital is finally appreciated the next day in the lush meadows.

"Please be born healthy." Childe speaks to your still unnoticeable pregnant belly before giving it a small kiss.

The blue sky stretches above the white clouds. He held your hand as you walked down the grassy path. The gurgling waterfall sounded faint. Dandelion blooms swayed and then scattered into the air. On a wooden chair with a view of a statue in the center of a lake, the two of you decide to take a break.

"I wonder how Shiva will react to this." You start the conversation.

Childe's shoulders shook as he laughed. "He will definitely kill me. For impregnating my wife." You join in the louder laugh.

There was a silence before you lifted your head from his shoulder to say, "About that grape juice.." Childe looked at you curiously. "I don't think ten barrels will be enough."

Childe carved a smile. The two of you returned to enjoy the sight ahead.

"Twenty it is."

AbbyBianx, ness

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[gb-patch]

Hiring Writers!

Writer positions are now open at GB Patch Games for Our Life Beginnings & Always.

Pay Rate: 15 cents USD per word

Word Estimate: 40k-50k words (potentially more depending on how development goes and if the writer agrees)

Work load: 10k words minimum per month, can be more

Time range: Four to five months. Should be finished around late February or in March, 2023

Full details and contact email are HERE!

#our life #writing job #writing commission #visual novel #oevn #Our Life Beginnings & Always #gb patch #gb patch games

[nefiliver]

‼️ EMERGENCY COMMISSIONS‼️

there's an emergency that happened and I am in need of immediate money, I don't know where else to come since I already asked others that I know of but the money was still not enough.

1k words — $10

2k words — $15

I am an adult and I will write anything. (nsfw and sfw and any genres and also dark content) no refunds!

example of my work:

A male sat atop a throne, his face looked like a perfectly sculpted marble statue, his face structure was the type of face that would incur the envious wrath of gods and goddesses in mythology. 

You could not spot a single blemish or flaw on his face that it almost seemed as if he wasn't real, not even a single hair of his  jet black locks was out of place. The long black robes under the longer golden cloak flowing down his body that pooled around his feet, complimented the colour of his dark brown eyes. Those eyes looked as if it could pierce anyone with one gaze and make them tremble with fear, cowering away from him.

But there was a hint of worry swirling deep inside those sharp eyes, it seems off to see such an intimidating person hold a caring emotion.

The cause of his growing worry was his sister who had been going out of the royal grounds without leaving a note of her whereabouts or letting her countless servants know where she's headed to.

Akio was starting to feel restless, from fear that was rooted from the countless thoughts of situations that could endanger her dear sister's safety. It was making him anxious to the point that he could no longer properly do his duties without getting agitated.

'what have you been up to, my sister?'  

His brows furrowed as his dark brown orbs glowed with concern when he heard one of Akira's maids delivering the news of her sneaking out of her estate again to go off to somewhere unknown to him.

"Do tell me, Do you have any Idea where she could be sneaking off to?"

He asked a question yet the trembling maid knew it was an order, his voice was low and threatening, it was as if a Lion was about to maul the poor maid and she couldn't help the way her voice trembles from fear as she tries to avoid the prince's gaze.

"N-no, My prince."

His hands clenched around the armrest of the throne, trying to ease the feeling of annoyance that was rapidly building up inside him upon hearing the same exact answer he had heard weeks ago, was his sister's servants really that incompetent to not know the answer to his simple question and do a simple task that he had given them from weeks prior? 

It was making his blood boil, remembering where he is and how his sister would react to him being aggressive, he tried to calm his nerves by taking a deep breath as his chest heaves in and out.

"You may go now."

The maid bowed her head as she quickly scurried out of the suffocating walls of the prince's throne room, the prince's presence was so intimidating that it felt like the maid was getting judged right in front of god.

"Utterly useless, are any of you even competent enough to be near my sister?"

His voice wasn't raised but it dripped with such venom that all the people present inside the room felt themselves sweat and tremble from fear of what he'll do to them

The prince was known to execute those who he deemed worthless even if the reason was childish, most of those people were the ones who the prince deemed unuseful to the princess have been executed in many creative painful ways.

"It seems like I have to do everything on my own, again."

Akio massaged his forehead, trying to ease the incoming headache caused by these fools. Why is everyone around his sister so utterly useless? Does he need to keep his sister inside his estate so that his own guards could watch over her and she wouldn't be able to cause any harm to herself anymore? no, that would cause rumours to arise and it would tarnish his already unsavoury reputation.

'I guess I'll have to see what my sister has been up to for these past few weeks.’

and with that, Akio made up his mind to follow his sister to find out about who she could be sneaking out for.

Akio held out his hand and his right-hand man's bowed head perked up at his action as he gestured for him to come near him, 

"Luca, deliver a letter to everyone who has a meeting with me tomorrow, tell them that I am feeling unwell and I am unable to see them."

He ordered  and seeing the quizzical look on the other man's face who looked as if he was about to say something but was interrupted by Akio raising his hand in front of his face

"Do not ask questions and immediately do what I said, or would you rather see yourself locked in the Cold Estate?"

It was as if Akio's dark brown eyes were glowering down at him and Luca knew that he could not trust his voice to not waver under the pressure of his master's terrifying presence, Luca opted to nod his head at Akio's words as he bows his head and politely leaves the room.

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.‧₊˚ 

It was the next day, and Akira couldn't be more excited to see her dear friend again.

"Mayne, could you please fetch me something freshly cooked on the Royal Kitchen?" 

The princess sat on a rather expensive looking stool as she combs through her beautiful rich chestnut brown hair that was flowing in loose waves, perfectly framing her face.

"Going to sneak out again, princess?"

The maid who was currently tidying up the princess's room looked back at her master who was unsurprisingly already looking at her through the mirror, she could see the way Akira's cheeks turn into a pout as she tries to defend herself

"It's not like that.. Geez, you make it sound as if I was off to meet some random dangerous person that I met."

"Well, Isn't that the case?"

"Wha- Not at all! The person I always meet is the kindest person you'll ever know! She's so nice that I sometimes get guilty for leaving her alone every time I visit her.."

The princess's entire demeanour quickly dropped as she sulked at that thought, Akira often leaves the female alone at the shop even if she was the one who always distract her from her work with her chatter.

"Oh, pardon me then for misunderstanding, the prince makes it seem as if it were a big deal."

"The prince..? wait! you mean brother?!"

Seeing Mayne nod her head at the princess's words was enough to send Akira to a series of panic, her brother is probably freaking out! if he found out already, he won't allow her to get out of the castle anymore and she barely ever leaves the castle even before meeting y/n.

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.‧₊˚

The street was bustling with life, you could hear the countless yelling  of vendors trying to attract customers, the crowd's chatter and the sounds of carriages thumping on the ground could be heard the most and the nosy environment wa adding to Akio's irritation but he have to endure it, for his sister.

His eyes scanned around the area, trying to pin-point where his sister could be.

#yandere #writing #writing comms #writing commission #writing comms open #writing commissions #writing community #commissions open #commissions #commission #yandere genshin #genshin impact x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland #yandere oc #yandere x reader #smut #honkai impact #sonic the hedgehog

[ransprang]

thank you for your request again @auryborealis we hope you like your match up :3

If anyone else would like a match up this is our kofi

Your Stardew valley match up is…

SEBASTIAN <3

Sfw

How you met: You were the new farmer in town and you were looking to make friends. Sam had invited you to his, Abigail and Sebastian’s weekly game night, joking that you reminded him too much of Seb. You agreed to come and although initially a bit quiet and reserved, once you all started playing games and cracked open a few cold ones, the inner sailor came out. Eventually, you were cussing out the gaming console with enthusiasm, dissolving the rest of the gang into a fit of giggles with your colourful and inventive curses. Even the usually sour-faced Sebastian was hiding a smile. As the evening went on, you grew more comfortable and when everyone was resting after an intense board game session, you decided to play some of your favourite horror fiction podcasts. You could see Sam was the one who was getting the most scared, jumping at every small sound while Sebastian simply listened intently. You offered to turn the podcast off but Sam refused, and after a while declared that he needed to use the restroom but was too afraid to go alone. After giggling and teasing him for an appropriate amount of time, Abigail agreed to take him. You and Sebastian were left alone, lounging on beanbags, nursing the dregs of your fourth beer that evening. The podcast still played in the background, but Sebastian’s attention was directed towards you. He eyed you carefully, before asking, “Will you play the triangle in our band?” You blurted out a laugh at the abruptness of the question and Sebastian’s cheeks took on the faintest blush. “You don’t have to, of course. It just would be nice to spend more time together,” he explained sheepishly. Your brown eyes crinkled in amusement, and you agreed, clinking together your near-empty beer cans, a toast to your new life in the Valley.

It’s great that you love autumn since that’s the only season where Sebastian actually leaves the vicinity of his house and walks around the town. You both can enjoy each other’s company and watch the orange and yellow-leaved trees dance in the wind together. Seb would be completely chill if you wanted to head back early during your adventures for a nap as well.

Seb is a night owl just like you. Being a programmer he often works odd hours or he’ll just spend the night gaming. So you’ll always have someone to spend time with at midnight. If you’re asleep while he’s awake Seb looks at you completely lovestruck and gives you a kiss on the cheek before going back to whatever he was doing.

Since Pelican Town’s movie theatre has a small selection of movies he is more so accustomed to enjoying thrillers and mystery movies. If you guys manage to order movies from Zuzu City or even go there he’d be willing to give horror movies a shot. Super unlikely that he’ll get scared. As long as it has an interesting plot he’ll enjoy it. 

Seb would often find you bundled up in his hoodies. He finds it super endearing and it gives him a deep sense of satisfaction to see you wrapped up in his belongings. 

You love Halloween and he loves pumpkin soup. In October, your house would be littered with pumpkins, which you gore and carve with delight and he makes pumpkin soup from the remains. It is a beautiful domestic scene.

Seb would often take you on long motorcycle rides in the night. He likes the warmth of your body on his back as he drives into the chilly night air. 

Seb would teasingly open your messy bun and twirl the hairband around his finger nonchalantly. He likes teasing you, watching your hair just fall down and frame your face.

He would give back hugs and neck kisses, and Seb’s embrace would be super warm and cosy, especially in the fall. Cuddling in oversized sweaters on the couch would be the go-to.

Seb would organise surprise dates out of nowhere to show that he appreciates you. Being a homebody, he would order food from outside, and set up fairy lights and a cosy blanket on the couch.

your goths,

admins sar, san & sav

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[celticwolf55]

So I have decided to use a Google form instead of Ko-fi for writing commissions. Makes it easier to send invoices via Paypal for them.

Please share this around as I really enjoy writing your ideas for you.

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[feralghxuls]

>>>>>commissions now open!<<<<<

hi everyone! due to I'm Broke, I will now be offering writing and editing commissions.

Writing Commissions:

$15 per 1k words starting rate for 2 characters. Each additional main character per fic is another $5/1k words

I will write any character and any ship, including x reader

I will write SFW, NSFW, romantic, platonic, angst, fluff, a combination of the above, whatever you'd like

I retain the right to refuse a commission, and if I do so I will be clear in my communication with you about it

Editing Commissions:

I have multiple tiers of editing:

1. Proofreading for typos and major grammar mistakes; provide a summary of general feedback at the end. (Rate begins at $1 per 100 words)

2. Checking for flow and pacing. Do your sentences flow together? Your paragraphs? The overall story? Is the pacing engaging, and is it set up in a way that makes sense and carries your story in a way that delivers to readers the experience you are aiming for? I provide suggestions to improve flow, with specific feedback as well as a summary of general feedback at the end. (Rate begins at $2 per 100 words)

3. Overall structure and pacing. I will work with you and provide suggestions and outlines for the overall structure of your story, in order to ensure your work is the best it can be and be more likely to have the reader impact you desire. (Rate begins at $3 per 100 words)

4. Minor rewrites. Are you struggling with the description of a certain location, object, or general mood of a scene? I will work with you to match your writing style and provide 2-3 versions of suggested rewrites of 100-500 words per section of the work that you would like rewritten. I provide a summary of general feedback at the end. (Rate begins at $20 per 100 words per rewrite)

5. Major rewrites. I will work with you to match your writing style to rewrite sections of 1000-5000 words, and provide 1-2 versions of the new draft. (Rate begins at $40 per 1000 words per rewrite)

If you are interested, please fill out this form and I will get back to you within 24 hours.

#dorito.txt #the band ghost #ghost the band #nameless ghouls #writing commission #editing commission

[nuravity]

I am taking writing commissions. I preferably take Euros but will see if I can work with Dollars as well.

My writing includes: Fanfiction of Teen Titans (2003 cartoon), Naruto and MHA fandom, Original fiction and poems

My prices are:

100 words = 1 dollar

500 words = 5 dollars

1000 words = 10 dollars

I will also negotiate if you need something longer or you are not satisfied with the pricing.

I also accept donations of any amount since I am having financial difficulties.

I accept: Payments through PayPal

For examples of my writing, please visit: https://m.fanfiction.net/u/2322009/?a=fa

If interested, please DM me.

#out of gravity #writing commission #commission

[poleaxewife]

Hello there! We are Cassiopeia. Today we're officially opening our writing commissions! Some background about us, we have been writing for more than a decade in various formats. We have an AO3 account where we are presently writing Kommandant Für Kommandant, a Signalis fanfiction that is currently over 20k words and is still ongoing.

We are multifandom and capable of researching almost anything for writing a story.

That is where you come in, dearest reader.

We have opened our commissions! At the moment, we have three slots open and an entirely clear back-queue.

If you would like to commission us, please read our TOS linked below.

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