#im so fucking tired of it all. I should have gone several states away and never came back. There's nothing for me here. There never was and

[theood]

Lol

#//////////////////// #//// #/////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////// #////////////// #i feel like a waste of space and a leech on resources. #Im so fucking dumb and stupid. I don't do anything right. I have no passion. No energy. I'm lazy as can be. Can't get a job. Can't hold a #job. Can't do anything steady to save my life. I'm fucking worthless. I feel so stupid. I can't maintain friendships. There's nothing in my #eyes when I look in the mirror. I'm already dead. I'm just letting myself rot at this point #I'm jealous. I'm stupid. I can't hold a fucking conversation to save me. Im not trying hard enough. everyone else had actusl real problems. #oh you're depressed in mommy and daddys house where you pay nothing at all? fuckong grow up you bitch. that's what you are. a fuckong dumbas #s bitch Elias. Fuckinh look at yourself #i should have just gone to college *** ****** ****** like god intended me too. I've know since 4th grade I don't know why I even bothered as #i got older. it'd do my friends a whole lot. #its so fucking tempting to just delete everything and not ever talk again. Im never gping to achieve anything becuase I was fucking dumb ass #kid who didn't apply himself. boo hoo you struggled in school everyone else did too. you're mot fucking special. you don't have anything #wrong with you. you just want attention. Get hit again bitch and maybe you'd grow a fucking spine. Look at yourself. Almost 21 and you're #nothing but a fucking cesspool of waste. You're disgusting. Nobody actually wants you and you know. #im so fucking tired of it all. I should have gone several states away and never came back. There's nothing for me here. There never was and #there's never going to be because nobody wants me. not any person not any job. not anything #its a chore to be around me and everyone always makes better friends and connections that aren't me because I can't be a fucking normal #person. * ***** **** **** ** *** *“” **** **** ** ******! #none lf my relationships last because people see through my bullshit and jump fucking ship because its the right thing to do. ***'** ******* #**** ****** ******!! Why bother with me. *** ******* **** *** **** ****** i know it #elias.zip #even if i get a job I'll still be fucking miserable because thats all my life will ever be. miserable. it's never going to start to get #good. ever. I'm not meant for anything. not meant for this.

[soulwillower]

semi-charming •  bill denbrough

(bill denbrough x reader smut)

requested:  Do you have any bill denbrough x reader’s that you have finished that can be posted? I really love your work I re read it like everyday lol :)    +      AKANSHAKAKMA U SHOULD POST THE BILL DENBROUGH HATE SMUT AHHHH     +     don’t be shy post the b.d hate smut 😀🔫🥰🌝

i haven’t posted a fic in well over several months but i hope u guys like it :) im here and around still so send me something if u wanna chat <3 i also have re opened my requests lkajsdlkaj

also - i gained a lot of new followers while i was gone and im sure some ppl want to be removed from my taglist SO: i am gonna start a new taglist!!! pls send me a message and let me know if you want to be on it bc after this post im starting fresh  !!!!!!!!!

warnings: drinking, mentions of weed, dorm living, almost-strangers hooking up, smut, choking (light), light spitting, a tiny bit of dirty talk, switch!bill, its kinda fluffy smut tbh, enemies-to-lovers but its so lowkey, kinda cute guys, neighbor-ish au, 

(losers + reader are 19+.)

4.1k words

♡

the first time it happened, you wrote it off as unintentional. 

it's happened to everyone: you're joking around with your roommate, or reaching over to grab your laptop, and you fall off your bed to the floor. you knock over your lamp or someone knocks over the handle that was sitting half-empty on the mini-fridge. the tile on the ground of the dorm rooms are hard and cold and don't do much to quiet the noise of anything, so you get that. 

but whatever the hell was going on in the room above you was not that. it was three in the morning, and your head was spinning in that sickening way that only happens when you take too many drinks in a short time and find your way to bed for a few hours before being startled awake. 

a loud thump made you jump in your bed, heart racing as you woke in surprise. 

it was around twenty more loud thuds from your ceiling (in a span of barely two minutes) that you gathered the energy to slide out of your bed, sliding on your dorm slides and throwing on a shirt to cover your near naked body before storming into the hallway to climb the most challenging single story of stairs in your life, right to your upstairs neighbors' door. 

your hand was banging on the door for a mere five seconds before the door swung open and a terribly confusing sight fell onto your eyes. 

three boys who you've only ever seen in passing before in your dorm, all shirtless and heaving breaths. the one who answered the door, possibly bill or mike (judging by the stupid name tags on their door), has bright eyes and dark auburn hair that reflects in the dim light of the hall, backlit by the neon purple from inside the room. his sweaty bare abdomen made your eyes twitch as you glared at him, suddenly more irritated because he's kind of really hot and stupid and annoying, and you needed to sleep.

"hi.” he said casually, and you could tell he wasn’t entirely sober, either. 

“so what is your fucking problem?" you said in lieu of a greeting, half-asleep and pissed beyond belief (also still drunk). the boy who answered the door raised his brows, head turning with a brow raised, as if to ask his buddies 'are they for real?' before turning back with a large, cocky smile, "pardon you? we already turned down the music." 

you blinked, knowing you must have seemed so rude and looked insane but it was a weeknight and you had class in the morning, "wh- what, no- i'm not here about music. it's like three, you're slamming on the floor and i can hear it like i'm in a fucking tornado in my room below you so you need to knock it off." 

then the other boy, further back with foggy glasses, started laughing. the other one laughed too, rubbing his neck sheepishly, still breathing heavy. "what the hell are you guys even doing in there?" you added, running a hand through your hair in exasperation. 

"they were trying to bench press me. but then bill decided to start doing squat jumps onto his bed." the boy with glasses explained as he rubbed his chest, still concealed by the darkness of the room, illuminated only by the stupid LED neon lights that every single person in the dorms had lining their rooms. that explained the thudding. 

"why." you'd deadpanned. you were too tired for this, but you'd wanted them to understand that it was keeping people up. "richie got us kicked out of Pike for stealing their doorknobs and pledge class photos." the third boy says, elbowing the boy, richie. "we felt like working out, but then richie said we couldnt press him, so..." he trails off at the look you give. 

"you want my workout routine or something?" richie asks you. you sharply inhale and bill smiles, "well, if that's all, we'll be going. i've got one more rep to get in." 

your eyes widened, jaw dropping at his words. he'd laughed, then, and your eyes couldn't stop as you stared at his sculpted abs flex in the light. god damn it. 

"chill out, neighbor. sorry to wake you from your beauty sleep." he said as he noticed your look, and you wanted to fucking hit him. 

you rolled your eyes, picking up on his facetious tone. "whatever. just knock it off. thanks," you'd griped, sarcastically smiling at them before trudging away towards the stairwell. and you'd caught it when bill muttered, "is now a bad time to assemble my ikea desk with my drill?" 

you'd run into bill once again a few days after when you'd gone to use the bathroom on the floor above you where your friend lived, washing out the bowl you'd used for lunch. a 'shh!' had made your brows furrow as you'd walked in, not paying attention as you'd heard a shower stop and a girl laugh from the other side of the bathrooms. 

but a deep voice grunting 'ow, fuck' made you freeze and then feel hot, wondering what kind of luck you have to be in the bathroom when some people were hooking up in the shower. but you're reminded that you had the worst luck when you go to leave the bathroom and two figures round the corner, hair soaking wet and hoods pulled over their heads. making eye contact with him, he must've seen how flustered and irritated you were, because he cracked a grin, "good to see you again, neighbor. you sleeping well these days?" 

that was only a few days ago. you'd seen him in passing at a party at one of the frats, but had avoided any interaction with him after you saw him and his friend with the glasses snickering to themselves after sneaking looks to you. god, you didn't want to face them again - they were so mocking, so cocky.... so rude, and they made you feel like you were being insane just for wanting to have peaceful sleep. bill was not your favorite person. 

but as bad as the first two experiences were, the third time you had the misfortune of interacting with bill, it was the worst. 

your roommate was out for the weekend, and you'd found yourself stuck with your leg and ankle pinned between your heavy file cabinet under your bed and your bedframe, unable to scoot it over on your own to free your leg. 

you were planning on relaxing tonight, after being stood up from a booty call hook up. you’re mad, frustrated, horny, and close to tears now that you’ve gotten yourself stuck pinned to your bed.

it’s nearly one in the morning, and nobody’s in the hall. 

but then, bill walked past your open door as you struggled, and desperately you called, "hey!" 

his double-take into your room, his head poking in, would have been charming if the face was anybody but him. 

"what?" he asks, suddenly noticing it’s you. his voice is not charming and calm as you've seen him be with other peers, but in your stubborn mind, you convince yourself it’s fine; you don’t like him, either. 

"i'm stuck, can you help?" you say despite your thoughts. 

he sighs, dropping his backpack next to your bed and then tugging to try and move the cabinet. 

"how did you do this?" he mutters as he pulls as hard as he can to pull it, but your shoe is too wedged diagonally against the floor, cabinet and frame. you sigh, "thought i could nudge it to the side with my toes, i dropped my dab through the crack." 

he chuckles, trying to instead shove it backwards instead; to no avail. "smart girl." he says sarcastically, and you roll your eyes, trying to help him shove it. "what was the point of you keeping me up all fucking night if you aren't strong enough to move this shit?" you say, exasperated because it's starting to dig into your calf. 

he stops, rolling his eyes at you. "has anyone ever told you that you can be a bit rude?" he asks, moving closer to you to try and push it away. you look down at him from where you stand, elbows on your mattress. "no. you're just a dick. fight fire with fire, or whatever." you mutter, face feeling hot. 

you can't stop staring at his shoulders, his arms - they're so hot, the veins popping out of his hands and forearms, the smell of his aftershave wafting into your nose from where he kneels next to you. 

he just hums. "i'm going to try to push your leg forward and then push the cabinet away." he states, and you nod, just wanted this nightmare to be over. you're still terribly embarrassed and the proximity to such a hot and confusingly irritating boy is making you lose your grip. 

it takes a lot in you to not jolt when his warm hand wraps around your bare leg and starts to pull you, his strong hold on you making you tingle. "what's your name?" he asks, and you almost laugh as his grip on your thigh tightens, the feeling of his fingers wrapped around your skin making you hot. this is insane.  "y/n." you struggle out, throat feeling dry - there's no reason his hand needs to be so high up on your leg, but some part of you really wants it. "it says that on my door." you say breathlessly. 

whatever he was going to reply with is cut off as he tries to readjust his grip on you and the cabinet, but his hand slides up and grazes the skin near the apex of your thigh, coaxing a sharp gasp to fall from your mouth. 

he turns red, looking up at you, "god, sorry." he mutters, and you bite your lip, unable to look away. 

you kind of forget to say anything, stuck staring at him, heart thumping as wetness pools between your legs just from this boy's touch. god, you've got to get laid. 

his arm is wrapped around the onside of your leg, thumb reaching higher on your thigh than his other fingers, and for a moment you hesitate before deciding to go for it: you drop your hand hand to his hair, pulling lightly as you 'steady yourself,' smirking as you feel his shaky breath against your thigh. 

you don't even care about getting unstuck now, all you can think about is being fucked into the mattress by this asshole boy from the fourth floor. you’re not sure where this feeling came from. 

when he finally pushes the cabinet away, causing you to stumble to catch your ground. he helps you get the cart and then push the cabinet back, awkward small talk making you want to die. "why were you down here anyways?" you ask, rubbing your leg. "mike kicked me out to be with a girl and all my friends are out for tonight." he sighs, rubbing his neck. "i have to do homework tonight, just going to find somewhere quiet to get it done." 

"that's surprisingly responsible." you say, looking at him wearily. he gives you an annoyed look, "what's that supposed to mean?" you roll your eyes, "you don't seem particularly academically motivated." you state, unsure if you're coming across as flirtatious or just a dick. he gives you a look as he moves to grab his things from next to your bed. "you seem more pleasure motivated." 

you catch your mistake immediately - and he does, too, smirking. you stutter to fix it, "don't be gross." you defend weakly. 

he's biting his lip and something rumbles in your chest, flames in your abdomen. it's hard to gauge if you don't like him or if you do. maybe you're just horny.

"i thought you were cute, you know, until you showed up at three in the morning to chew me out." he mutters, eyebrows raised, "i get that that was annoying, but it was a saturday. everyone was drunk, i don't get why you are still being a bitch." his face drops when he says that, as if he didn't mean to say it at all, but he doesn't take it back. you shrug, not too offended. he kind of has a point, "i don't get why you have to make everything so much harder than it has to be. doesn't matter how hot you are,  i don't have to like you, you know." you say, crossing your arms with a smirk. 

"believe me, i'd rather you not like me." he says, smile on his face troubling. you look at him, trying to gauge why you're feeling so flustered, why you want to jump his bones right now no matter how annoying he is. "then why haven't you left yet?" you challenge. you figure if you're reading his actions wrong, this gives him an out. 

"because i kind of want to fuck you now." he says boldly. you just smirk, walking towards where he sits on your desk chair, lowering yourself to straddle him. he looks up at you, eyes large and mischievous as he pulls you down on him all the way, your hips grinding lightly. "i think you want to fuck me always." you whisper, lips hovering above his, teasing. you're eating up all his attention, soaking it up and savoring the way he watches you. 

you boldly snake your hand down between the two of you, lips still refusing to touch his, your hand starting to tease his clothed cock as it hardens under your palm. you stroke him as you lean, almost kissing him before pulling away. he glares at you. 

then you move your hips, the tension in your room killing you. he lets out a half-moan, causing you to buck your hips again, relishing in the pleasure it gives you. he leans forward, trying to catch your lips, but your hand catches his chest, your lips just centimeters from his own.  "fuck you, y/n." he says, fed up with your teasing as his hands squeeze your ass, moving to the bottom of your thighs and then rising with surprising ease, holding you against him and making your heart thump in shock. he takes four long strides towards your bed, tossing you on it. you grin, expecting for him to climb onto you, but instead he's walking towards your door, making your heart quicken. is he leaving? 

he slams your door shut, though, and it makes you smirk as he clicks the lock. you're on your back, the sight of him upside down making you bite your lip, eyes nearly even with the bulge in his sweatpants. 

he walks up to you, and you eye him as he bends forward, hand catching your chin, holding your head forward with a strength you didn't expect. "look at me." he says suddenly. you blink, feeling hot as you stare into his eyes. 

"don't tease me." he says, and you swallow, heart racing in excitement. "okay." you croak, and it seems to satisfy him because he tilts your neck from here he holds your neck and chin, kissing you soundly on your lips. you feel on fire at his touch, squirming as you slip your hands into his hair - it's making you so needy that he's holding you, almost trapped on the mattress, kissing him upside down. 

he pulls away and you flip around, allowing for him to climb onto the bed, barely enough time before you pull him in for another kiss, this one heated and desperate. 

he bites marks on your neck as your hands palm him, pushing your own thighs together in need. slowly, you push him down against your mattress and sling a leg over his hip, moving to straddle him. his hands find your hips easily, looking at you like you're the only thing ever worth looking at; your breath leaves your lungs and you steady yourself, the reality of how fucking beautiful bill is hitting you at once. 

you pull his shirt off, yours coming off, leaving you in just your shorts and underwear. he palms your tits, pinching your nipple as you grind down against his cock, whimpering at the feeling of his pants against your clothed clit. "if only you'd come up to my room like this." he says, and you snap your eyes to his, seeing the teasing grin but glaring at him. "maybe you would've been nicer to me if you knew how good i'd make you feel." he whispers as you resume your hip's movement, "shut up, bill." you hiss. he laughs, his thumb making contact with your clit takes you by surprise and you jump a bit, moaning quietly as your eyes close in pleasure. 

"take these off." he mutters into your mouth as you bite his bottom lip. you take off your shorts, quickly resuming your spot straddling him, his lips trailing from your breasts to your throat and then your mouth again, grinding against him in need. he toys with your slit over your panties before he pulls them slowly to the side, spreading your juices on his long fingers, humming as he brings his fingers to his lips, watching you as he licks his fingers. you nearly moan, impatient enough that you kiss him, tasting yourself on his lips faintly; "do you want me?" you whisper against his lips.

"i wish i didn't," he says, "but yes. do you want to do this?" 

you're breathless, beside yourself with need, "yes." you say quickly, tugging his sweats off and tossing them to the floor. "fuck you, by the way." you spit, flipping him off. he grins and it's fucking beautiful, his smirk, his red cheeks, heaving chest. budding hickeys bloom over his neck and chest as he catches your hand, tugging you forward over him, whispering, "you're about to." 

you roll your eyes, ignoring the butterflies in your chest, hand falling over his as he pumps himself. your thumb swipes over his tip, spreading his precum before opening the condom he'd pulled out of his pocket (you don't even want to know why he brought one with him to study) and roll it onto his cock. 

and then you’re pushing aside your panties and stabilizing yourself on bill’s chest. you line yourself up on him and look to him for one last confirmation. he nods, “quick fucking around, babe.” he says, but his voice sounds desperate and his cheeks are flushed and you let out a strangled moan as you sink onto him, the nickname making your stomach flutter. you have to stay and give yourself time to adjust to his size, his moans swallowed by your own mouth as your tongue swipes his. his hands roam your body, squeezing your hips, your ass, your breasts and then rising to cup your neck and back. 

“shit, bill.” you whimper as you slowly start to move up and down. his eyes fall shut in pleasure and his head tilts back, exposing the entire expanse of his throat for you to claim, his hands falling to your hips. your eyes watch his thin necklace shine in the faint light from your lamp and he's filling you up perfectly. 

he looks like fucking heaven.

you kiss his neck lightly as you pick up the pace, bouncing on him steadily as his fingers grip the sides of your thighs.

“fuck, y/n.” he whispers, staring at you with his lips caught between his teeth. the feeling of him stretching inside you and hitting the perfect spot has your legs shaking already, breathing heavily. he’s soon surging up, kissing you deeply as groans fall from his lips, his arms rising to your waist to hold you as you move.

"you're much better when you're not talking." you mutter as you fuck yourself on him, moving your hips as you bounce. he rolls his eyes, "i'd fuck you every day if it meant you wouldn't come ruin my fun every night." he quips back, eyes challenging. and your hand rises to squeeze around his throat, at first as a joke, but then he smiles brightly, a smirk that stirs something in you and you squeeze ever so slightly, the feeling of his pulse making you moan. 

his smirk sends butterflies through your stomach, pleasure swirling in your core. but then his own hand rises to your own throat, squeezing lightly.

you moan, unable to keep it together. "you think two can't play this game, y/n? it's like you don't know me." he tuts, seemingly pleased as you're flushing, gasping as your legs stutter, his hips moving up to meet yours, strokes hitting you deep. “i don’t,” you whisper, and he hums. 

your legs stutter after one particularly satisfying thrust and he grabs your hips, lifting slightly and biting his lip as he starts to thrust up into you. “oh, my god,” you moan as he hits your g spot and he curses under his breath.

your hand comes up to rest on the wall behind him as you meet each other half way, hitting a spot deep inside you that has you moaning his name loud enough for anyone to hear. you hope to god your next door neighbors are out. 

he presses his lips to yours and you know its to get you to stop being so loud - it makes your toes curl in pleasure. then his thumb snakes its way to your lips, his grin widening when your lips immediately part and suck on the finger, humming around it as your hand rests on his neck, the other over his abs as you bounce. 

"so pretty like this, y/n." he leans up, then, sitting up more and changing the angle, making you gasp with a moan as his hand snakes around your waist, pulling you closer to his face with the hand on your face. he pulls his thumb from your mouth with a light pop, your legs barely riding him at your proximity, instead steady on his hips, his cock warm and stretching you. "do you think you'd look pretty under me?" he asks. you swallow, moving your hips again and sliding on his cock, movements making you stare at him, pleasure building. 

"i think you would." he whispers, hand still on your neck. you whimper a bit, sliding off of him, allowing him to climb over you, kissing you soundly before pulling you to the edge of your bed, legs hanging off as he stands in front of you. lifting one leg, he kisses your knee and holds it up as he teases your slit with his cock before sliding into you again, causing you to let out a loud moan, his own melding with yours. 

your eyes roll back at the new angle, legs shaking as his fingers dig into your thigh. “wanna see your f-face when i make you cum.“ he mutters, hand rising to thumb your lip, dragging your bottom lip down.

 "you think you're gonna make me cum?" you bite, knowing no man you've been with has been able to. 

you watch as his eyes admire the half-lids of your eyes, the blissed, fucked-out look on your face. your chest is littered in blossoming hickes, varying from pink to dark red and slightly purple already. 

he says nothing in response to you, but pulls your leg further open, spitting down onto your cunt, making you moan lightly, the action being terribly sexy. his thumb finds your clit and starts to rub perfectly in counteraction to his thrusts, his lips finding your nipple. 

you gasp in pleasure, panting as you start to wonder if he really is going to make you cum. then his thumb rubs circles on your clit and as he presses lightly, you can’t hold off any longer. “fuck,” you hiss as you hit your peak, your orgasm making your legs shake. you can’t help it, gasping and bucking your hips as you clench against his cock in bliss, your orgasm causing you to tug his hair in ecstasy. “so pretty.” he mutters against your neck, pressing kisses to it as you’re moaning and arching your back. "so good, cumming for me." he says cockily. you're panting as you whisper, "shut up," his hips still pounding into yours. 

“god, you're such a sweet talker.” he mutters sarcastically as you look at him desperately, his eyes fall shut in bliss, a deep groan leaving his lips, you can tell he's close. 

"and you're such a gentleman." you jest back, pulling him closer by his shoulders, eyes shutting in bliss. he hums, strokes getting sloppier, "i let you cum first, didn't i?" he counters. 

you huff a laugh, something in your heart twinging in affection. you kiss him so you don't say something stupid, moving your hips with his. a few strokes and he's pulling you closer to him by your back, whimpering into your mouth, “y/n, fuck.” beautiful moans fall from his cherry colored lips as he cums, and you just stare at him in awe, surprised by how hot it is as he says your name. he rides his high and then falls off of you, onto the mattress between you and the wall. 

"hey," he says after a few moments of you both catching your breaths, your hands overlapping on your stomach but not nearly holding hands. it makes you feel warm in a weird way. excited, nervous. 

"what?" you ask, turning to stare into his eyes. he smirks, "you think we woke up the downstairs neighbors?" he whispers, eyes alight with tease. 

you shove him, smothering him with a pillow while he laughs, pulling you onto him. 

tag list:  @gabiatthedisco @blisshemmings @stenbrozier  @sft-core @clownsloveyou  @moon-shine-baby  @daughter-of-the-stars11 @trashedfortozier @oceandog13 @kait16xo @upamongthestarss @fiantomartell @beverlyparkerr @beauregard-s @diorbubs @leighjaenikhowell @groovybimbo @deepestofwaters @unfortu-nate-ly @sassy-uris @loverloserrr @hauntingkaspbrak @soph-ec @hockslutter @babytortie  @decafcoffeew

#bill denbrough #bill denbrough smut #losers club x reader #losers club smut

[introloves]

Hey there Jax! Could you do a drabble imagine/scenario of Hinata coming home to his s/o after coming back from Brazil and he's just starving for them in every way. Hard dom Hinata but he's so praising cuz he missed and loves their s/o so much 🥺❤️

I love all your writings btw! Have a great day and be safe Jax (*＾3＾)/～♡

IM FERAL OVER HIM LOVE BRAZIL HINATA....

— f! reader + hard dom / soft dom! hinata + praise + a very desperate pair of adults who r very horny over each other

wc; 1.5k 😭

it was the sound of something falling that had woken you up. it was shoyo’s day of return and you had planned to take a quick nap in order to stay awake for him but apparently overslept.

you sat up, heart thumping in fear.

“Y/N?” hinata’s voice rang out loud and excited, letting you know he was home.

it was your boyfriend, shoyo was home! making a mad dash to him you responded back with the same enthusiasm.

he caught you in his arms as you ran up, squeezing his arms around you so tightly it almost hurt but you didn’t wanna pull away. he swayed with you back and forth, laughing as he just held you.

tears pooled in your eyes at the happiness.

god you had missed him so much, his warmth, smile, the vibrant colors of his hair and eyes.

“missed you. missed you so bad.” he rasped, eagerly moving his hands to roam down to your ass.

he should have been tired, should have been worn down from the trip, but seeing you and feeling you from behind a soft camisole and tiny sleeping shorts- same shorts he missed moving to the side to fuck you- regenerated him.

he felt like he could run several miles, your shaky breath spreading goosebumps and warmth down his body.

he felt you cry, knowing you missed him just as fiercely.

“it’s okay baby. i’m here.” hinata cooed, letting you cling to him.

“missed you so much.” you whispered, and he laughed.

“not as much as i did angel. c’mon, let me take care of you, yeah?” he questioned, unable and not wanting to depart from you. you nodded, needing the proximity. with warm and rough hands, the trek to your bedroom began.

he laid you down, hands at your waist to grip you tightly. he felt feverish, cheeks reddening as all the blood circulating his body pumped to his crotch.

overexcited like a teenaged boy.

“fuck. i really missed you.” hinata murmured, slotting himself between your legs.

it didn’t take long for your body to respond to the way he was looking down at you, tanned skin looking so good over all the new muscles and thickness he attained during his trip.

he looked like something born from the sun, looked like someone who built those muscles (the ones he used to currently wrap your legs around his waist) from sheer hard work and dutiful repition.

your shoyo was a man.

he was a man hungry for you, overcome with longing from not seeing you for tortuous months.

the first meeting of his hips against you made him hiss, dizzy at the way he could feel you throb.

his hand couldn’t compare to that wet heat he remembered fucking so well. your calls and pictures- videos were the only thing that had kept him sane. he had always came with the thought of you waiting for him when he got back home to you.

“did you miss me baby?” he teased, humping you, trying to find your clit as his cock split your puffy lips, dampening your shorts even more.

you whimpered, the end of it pitching up as he kept his pace fast and desperate.

‘there it is!’ he thought when your knee met his hip, jolting back.

“missed you so much.” you responded, unable to say more before he hastily tugged your shorts off, the movement bringing you down slightly.

“shoyo!” you hissed at the burn of cloth swiping down your legs.

“ah, sorry angel.” he offered a quick apology, panting like a dog once he catches just a glance at your naked pussy.

“fuck. fuck. fuck.” he chanted, hooking his thumbs at his waistband. you mirrored his need when you saw his hard cock spring out, red and already glistening as precum fell freely from the slit. he was so wet he looked like he had already cum and you salivated. you took into notice the once pale skin of his dick matched the equally sun kissed, tanned parts of him.

he could see you clench, hips bucking up into the air at the thoughts swimming in your head, it had to be something you thought up, he wasn’t touching you.

“what’re you thinking about pretty girl.” he wondered, a tight hand pumping his dick in preparation, squeezing what he could from himself to wet his dick, so he wouldn’t hurt you, it was going to be a tight fit.

“you tanned in the nude?” you panted, thinking that it shouldn’t affect you this badly.

“ah, yeah. oikawa ‘nd me hit up a nude beach.” he smiled bashfully.

“god. please fuck me already.” you groaned, eyes rolling back, trying to reach for him.

hinata would have normally complied, but he was filled with so much energy, so happy, so excited to finally be with you again he had to expend some of it in order to not absolutely ruin your poor cunt on the first night back.

the look you give him when he slaps his fat tip against your clit is priceless, the shake of your thighs with each tap has his lips curl up.

“shoyo?” you question, voice trembling.

he doesn’t look up from your pussy, choosing instead to pass a reddened cockhead down to your folds, running up and down till he makes contact with your fluttering hole, pushing in just a little- just enough to make you intake breaths of sharp air.

“g-god please shoyo!” its a desperate plea, you’re so wet its dripping down to your bed, throbbing with pure need.

he sushes you, you dont notice the hard clench of his teeth. don’t notice the heavy breathing leaving his mouth, tense shoulders constricting with a control he just barely had.

angling your hips down, moving with desperation as you press more of him into you is a display of just how hazy your minds gotten with the need to have him fill you.

its something he wasnt ready for by the sounds of him groaning, snapping his teeth down to hiss out filthy words.

there’s a sigh playing on your lips, but it turns into a noise of sharp surprise when he pushes in all the way.

“h-hah!”pained wheezes leave you, the burn he brings is felt all the way up your neck, swirling at the where he’s fit himself.

you’re kicking at him, knees picking up off the bed, but they’re pinned down before he moves to hold your thighs open, moving the fat there as much at it gives.

“wanted to prep you baby, wanted to take you slow c-cause its been such a long time.” hinata hisses, eyes zeroed in on where youre rhythmically clenching down, trying, just trying to adjust to his girth.

“but look at what you did.” he spits. he wants to kiss the tears prickling at your eyes away but it’s obvious the time apart made you forget your place.

“s-sorry i’m sorry.”

youre shaky, still reeling from being that stuffed so soon. but he was right, he was the one who took care of you, made sure to leave you properly fucked out, you just missed him.

your words have him calm down just a little, makes him bend down to kiss your cheek,

“its alright. its going to be okay.” he tells you, and you know it is, even when hes making you cry you know he knows how much you can take.

he doesnt begin until sees you smile, sees the way your eyes form little moons when he entangles both hands into yours, pushing them to rest right above your head.

hes so in love it makes him dizzy, punches air from between his lungs when you start your keening. telling him how much you missed him, how your little fingers don’t compare to the fatness of his dick, they dont bring the same burn or fullness as him.

your words have a fire build right at the pit of his stomach, has him do everything he can to make you cum.

hes missed it, missed your thighs shaking around the trunk of his own, missed the sound of your pussy squelching, missed how sweet his name sounds tumbling from your lips.

“shoyo, shoyo, i’m cumming. i’m cumming.” the words are rushed and all but piercing, he knows you are. you’d been clenching down on him real hard for quite some time now.

and like a good boyfriend he fucks you through it, moving your entangled hands to meet above your head, wrapping your wrist in one of his, letting him press a thumb to your clit.

he wants it all, hinata wants you to beg for him to stop because you can’t take how good it feels.

and you do, the stickiness of your cum agaisnt his still moving hips makes you whimper, rolling your hips side ways to try and calm him down.

“s-stop, ‘s toomuch.” you babble, thanking him for listening when he stops.

he thinks there’s nothing better than how youre still fluttering around him,

“been gone too long.” he states, frowning just a bit when you look up at him with questioning eyes.

“you used to take me longer.”

hes right, you shiver when you realize that he’d just have to fuck you stupid to be able to take the unwavering force of him as he is now, eyes widening when you recall the way he’d have you squirt and gush with every orgasm he’d pull from you when you first started dating.

but you dont shy away, knowing that with his stamina, you wont be able to move tomorrow.

a pain you missed so so so much.

“mhm,” you sigh, feeling the burn of overstimulation fade,

“looks like you got some work to do, shoyo.”

that he does, but you’re made for him, he knows it.

so shoyo picks your legs up, dead set on showing you that you are.

#hinata #hinata shoyo #hinata smut #haikyuu smut #hinata x reader #hinata x reader smut #hinata x you #hinata x y/n #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x reader smut #haikyuu x you #haikyuu x y/n #haikyuu hinata #haikyuu #haikyuu!! #smut #requests #asks #— no face. 🐉

[uwurakax]

another day ♡

pairing: oikawa x f!reader ♡

genre: angsty // exes // mutual pining ♡

summary: after the constant fighting and bubbling insecurities, you and oikawa both decide that breaking up is probably for the best. too bad that it wasn’t what either if you had wanted ♡

♡ read part one ‘save your tears’ here ♡

word count: 2k ♡

author’s note: super tired, i should be packing but im not lol, 4am gang ayyy. as always not proofread because i cannot stomach the idea of rereading what i wrote. this was what originally ‘save your tears’ was going to be, but part one got too long so haha. spoils of part one, so if you haven’t read it go ahead, or don’t lolol it could be read alone ig hurr hurr ♡

♡ (inspired by save your tears - the weeknd/ariana grande) ♡

At one point in time, you would’ve enjoyed an atmosphere like this; the blaring lights, pounding music, and even the heat radiating off warm bodies in a cramped space. It was much more enjoyable when you had the familiar, comforting presence of him.

Yes him: Oikawa Tōru. Also known as the the guy who broke your heart less than two months ago. You hadn’t seen him since the week after, finally being able to pick up everything and go. It was scary how silent it was between you two. The unit the both of you had made a home, your first home with him, just a little more barren. Just a little more bare.

Just a little more empty.

Once homely rooms were now plain. To anyone else, it could be called minimalistic or modern. Sleek if you were to exaggerate it. To the both of you however, it was just stone cold. A lifeless corpse. One poor imitation of what it once was.

And seeing it like this was almost enough to have your heart break for a second time. It was a physical representation of your relationship. The feelings of warmth, comfort, admiration, any and every word any literary body could ever akin to love was once found here. It was sad to see it gone, almost like it was never there. However if you looked past the surface you’d see all the small details of things that once occupied the room. The once full drawers now easily fitting clothes with plenty of room to spare. A countertop with products only to one half of the sink. The minuscule dust imprints left behind on the shelves that once housed your books.

The lingering smell of your perfume that was once so prominent.

You couldn’t tell, but Oikawa could. In the week you were gone, it slowly started to fade. The first night Oikawa was drowning in it. It clung to, what once was, your pillow and on the blanket. Choking and suffocating him with the sweet smell. He couldn’t bear to see the bed without you in it, and hated the God awful smell. Opening the window and facing away, he had a dreamless sleep that night.

And as the week passed, so did the scent of you.

He couldn’t explain why, but the moment he opened the door, his body felt at ease. His eyes blessed, even if you had those dark circles and slightly red eyes with unkempt hair. It was as if it was instinct to feel relief at being near you.

It was the longest few hours of Oikawa’s life that day, and somehow it was still just too short. Helping you gather your things, putting them into boxes and loading them into a tiny hired truck until eventually there was nothing left.

You were gone from the apartment, and now Oikawa’s life.

It was awkward the second time, saying goodbye. The finality of it all dawning on the both of you. You at least had this excuse to see each other once more. After this, there was nothing. No more reasons to come back, to call, message or even see each other again.

This was officially the last time you’d ever get to see Oikawa Tōru.

You’d both stood there for a few moments, only the wind against leaves and the occasional car offering any sort of background noise. Neither of you wanting or willing for this moment to end. Despite it all, it wasn’t hard to see that you both yearned for each other. Just how cruel it was that you couldn’t see it.

Oikawa kept your pillow close that night. The smell of you was so faint, he was sure that it wouldn’t be too long before it completely faded. As he held the plush item near his chest he couldn’t help but wonder what kind of life he could’ve had with you if he wasn’t so prideful? All the fantasies and white picket fences surged in his mind, and so he finally drifted off to sleep, thinking of you.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

“Here”

You turned to see your best friend handing you a glass of, well you weren’t sure exactly but anything to dull your senses at this point was okay in your book. Yes, almost two months since your breakup and you were still so torn. It was what he wanted right? Your lives are better this way. You’re sure his is. He wouldn’t have to hear you “nag” as he so put it, and you didn’t have to feel the exhaustion resulting because of it.

It was better this way. You knew it. Oikawa knew it. Your friends and family knew it. Heck even the old ladies down the damn street knew it.

So why did it feel so shitty.

You downed the drink quickly, not wanting to go through the spiral of emotions you were sure you were going to experience. You’d deal with the pain and hangover tomorrow like the adult you were. For now you just wanted to dance till your feet hurt, and then drink until they stopped hurting. A quick descent into self destruction that you’re sure you’d regret.

Or maybe you wouldn’t.

The moment you turned your head to get back to the dance floor you locked eyed with him.

For a moment you stopped breathing. The music faded out quickly and the patrons of the club disappeared. Suddenly it was just you and him.

He looked good this time around, nothing like the last time you saw him. His perfectly fluffed and styled hair that was just so effortlessly Oikawa had become messy bed head. His bright chocolate eyes that twinkled just a little with mischief when he smirked had become sunken. His whole demeanour had completely drooped into a depressive state. It hurt to see.

He wasn’t like that now. He looked like how he had been before. No longer were the remnants of a heartbroken man. Oikawa Tōru had gone back to his charming self once again.

A cute girl with silky, long black hair approached him and just as quick as they went, everything came flooding back; the music, people and you found yourself being able to breathe again.

She touched his arm and laughed. The look in her eyes filled with the glimmer coyness. Her body language oozed with flirty persona. It was all too familial.

You should’ve guessed that he’d date again. It wasn’t like he couldn’t. The moment you both severed the relationship he had every right to do what he wanted. You did too. Sure you were seeing someone, but it wasn’t like that.

All too, touchy-feely.

It hurt to see, you weren’t going to lie. Seeing the way he touched her, held her, danced with her. For a good portion of the night you saw it. Seeing him be with her, the way he used to with you. No longer being the main character in his story; you were in the audience, watching.

You didn’t want to stay until the ending.

Without a word, you briskly brushed passed sweaty bodies, being bumped a few times before you finally made it to the door and opened it.

You walked a couple paces to the middle of the footpath, deeply inhaling the fresh air. It wasn’t suffocating anymore. You fumbled with your purse, reaching inside to pull out your phone. With the glow of neon lights emanating behind you, you saw a stray tear on the blackness of your screen.

Fuck, when did that happen?

You wiped it with the palm of your hand, and went to unlock your phone. As you prepared to send a text you heard the call of your voice.

“Tōr-Oikawa?”

He mentally winced at this, the formal tone of using his surname struck something inside. He didn’t like it, not at all. It wasn’t right, it felt strange.

“What are you doing here?”

“What are you doing here? You followed me”

“Right... I guess I just wanted to see how you were, that’s all” he looked away, awkwardly scratching the back of his head. You softened at this. It just took you back to why you fell for him in the first place. The little things like this, that made you feel cared for and loved. Perhaps for a few minutes you could be delusional and pretend that Oikawa still cared for you.

“I’m fine, what about you? How is everything going?” Yikes. You cringed at how awkward you were being. You supposed that that’s how it was, not exactly friends and not complete strangers either.

“Yeah fine too...” he trailed off, and just like that you were brought back to that time before you left. Before the official goodbye. Not ready to end things just yet, but neither knowing what more to say.

Just for a little while, let me remember every trace, curve and detail.

You didn’t know what came over you, but soon enough you found yourself drawing closer to Oikawa. He looked at you with half lidded eyes, not daring to move a step, almost afraid if he did it would ruin this moment with you. Yes, it was selfish but...

You lifted your hand to cup his cheek, just like a memory from before. Using the pad of your thumb, you gently brushed over the soft skin. Ever so delicately, you traced down his jaw. The intimacy of your movements crossed a boundary between you. You knew it and he did too. You’d let yourselves be greedy though.

Oikawa raised his own hands to touch your face, perfectly ingraining it into his mind and body. His fingers slowly going over your features. He wouldn’t allow himself to forget any part of you.

It wasn’t long until you both wanted to overstep more.

The longing between you too great to try and stop. Eventually you both moved closer, faces and soul alike reaching for the other. Just a bit closer.

“Y/N?”

“Oikawa?”

You both frantically pulled away, heart racing now.

“Kageyama..”

“Tobio”

Oikawa tried to hide the venom in his voice, he really did, but when he saw Kageyama make his way beside you he couldn’t help but see red.

It didn’t seem like life was playing a very fair game.

“Oikawa are you alright?” He looked down at the petite girl beside him, now clinging to his arm. He threw on one of his brilliant smiles and told her it was okay.

“Are you cold? Here” Oikawa couldn’t keep up that smile for too long, not when he saw him putting his jacket around you. How you snuggled into the warmth. How it showed Oikawa that you were no longer his, and that you now found solace in another.

He couldn’t blame you, he knew that deep inside. He did the same, why shouldn’t you? It didn’t stop the burning hatred and envy he felt. The overwhelming sadness that enveloped him. All a heavy dump of emotions thrown on him within a few seconds.

You felt it too though. That girl hanging off his arm. Getting to parade around that Oikawa was hers. It was totally unreasonable to feel this way. You both ended things. It was mutual right? You would’ve told him and he would’ve told you if this breakup was a mistake right?

Right?

“Wanna go?” Kageyama whispered in your ear. You nodded.

“It was nice seeing you again T-Oikawa” you smiled sadly.

“You too Y/N...bye” you both turned away, walking in opposite directions. With every step, your heartache grew just a little more. Almost like your body needed to be near his, the memories it held being more truthful than your head could ever be.

Your heart, body and soul wanted Oikawa.

Your mind told you to let him go for his sake.

“Hey Y/N?”

“Hey Oikawa?”

“Yes Kageyama?”

“Hmm?”

“He was your ex right? Oikawa?”

“That girl back there, is she her? The ex?

“Yeah he was”

“Yeah, she was”

“Do you still love him?”

“Do you still love her?”

There was a pause and you both stopped, mulling the question over.

Did you still love each other? It wasn’t hard to tell, everyone knew the answer. Ask any stranger but...

“No”

..

...

..

You both lied.

#haikyuu x reader #oikawa x reader #hq x reader #haikyuu!! x reader #haikyuu angst #hq angst #oikawa angst

[elentiyawhitethorn]

Sneaking Around | Chapter Six

Aelin clicked on Rowan’s contact. want to get out of here? She made sure to keep her phone angled away from Manon, who was smirking next to her.

A moment later, he responded. I thought you’d never ask.

you’re not still pissy about me judo flipping you?

I’ve come to terms with the fact I’ll just have to get you back for it. Aelin blushed at the implications.

“What, is your sweet boyfriend sexting you?” Aelin had almost forgotten Manon was there.

“Shut up.” we’ll see about that

I’ll leave now. You come in a few minutes.

alright

You sure you remember where I live?

yeah, i think so

Aelin heard Rowan’s voice distantly saying he was off. Not wanting Manon to put it together, she started speaking. “So, you don’t mind if I ditch you?”

“And have you spend the night lusting after some dude? No thanks.”

“You’re one to talk. I can’t even count the number of times I’ve gone to gay bars as your wingwoman.”

“That was only a few times and I am grateful, but I still get to tease you. It’s my job. Shouldn’t you be leaving now?”

“So anxious to lose my delightful presence?” Manon rolled her eyes. “Yes, I’m off now.”

They walked into the living room to find Rowan already gone and Vaughan on his way out. Good, that would be a little less suspicious if several people were leaving. Aedion and Lysandra had rejoined the group. Manon said, “Aelin’s headed out to her secret boyfriend’s place, so looks like I’m stuck with you losers.” Yes, Manon was very genteel.

Everyone tried to get her to spill, but Aelin just said, “See you Monday.” Then she flipped them off as she walked out the door.

The drive was short, but Aelin was jittery, desperate to get her hands on Rowan. And she had unintentionally memorized his address.

She walked up the stairs to the second floor quickly. Aelin lacked the patience for an elevator ride right now.

Upon reaching the landing, she caught sight of Rowan leaning against the wall next to his open door. “You certainly got here quickly. So eager to-”

Aelin cut him off with a hungry kiss. His lips began to move against hers and he grabbed her, pulling her into his apartment. Rowan kicked the door closed, then pinned her to it. He used one hand to lock the door and the other to unzip her jeans. She grinded against his hand, bucking her hips forward.

Rowan pulled down her jeans, waited for Aelin to step out of them, then picked her up and slung her over his shoulder. Aelin shrieked as he carried her to his bedroom.

“That’s what you get for judo flipping me.” The damned bastard was chuckling.

He tossed her on the bed, then swiftly unclothed himself. Rowan looked up to find Aelin had done the same, and was now lying seductively on his bed. She let her legs spread.

Rowan, panting now, climbed on top of her. She moaned as his hips pressed against hers. Neither one of them could get enough of the other. Both of their hands were roving accross the other’s body. Aelin’s tongue parted his lips.

Her hand drifted down to caress him, and Rowan groaned. He let Aelin push him off of her then move down to take him in her mouth. Rowan moaned Aelin’s name. Yes, she could get used to this.

-

Light was streaming through the curtained window. Aelin awoke to find Rowan’s arm around her. She was pressed into his side, fitting like a glove.

Aelin gently slid out of his grasp, then put on his shirt from the night before. It was so large, she nearly drowned in it.

Then she walked out to the kitchen. If he was going to carry her around like a sack of meat, she would feel no qualms about raiding his fridge.

Rowan walked out ten minutes later in another pair of sweatpants to find Aelin dressed in his t-shirt, devouring a bowl of cereal. “Make yourself at home, why don’t you,” he said sarcastically.

“Thank you, I will,” replied Aelin. “Though I’m rather disappointed to find all this health junk. You need to buy some Fruit Loops.”

Rowan smirked. “Planning on eating breakfast here often?”

Aelin blushed. “Just in case.”

Rowan poured himself a bowl of the “health junk.” “Well, I wouldn’t mind if you did.”

Aelin blinked, then smiled.

“Did you ladies really sign up for mixed martial arts?” he asked.

Aelin laughed. “Yes. Lys and I had been taking it for a while, and we convinced the others to join. And I still can’t believe you bet against me!”

“How was I supposed to know you’re a fucking ninja?”

Aelin laughed again, louder this time. “I like that almost as much as fire-breathing bitch-queen.”

“That was meant to be an insult when I came up with it.”

“That makes it even better.”

Aelin hadn’t felt so happy in a long while. They finished breakfast, then Aelin said she should leave.

“Why?”

“What do you mean why?” Aelin asked.

“You should stay. It’s still the weekend.”

Aelin’s heart raced. “And if I were to stay, what would we be doing?”

Rowan’s sultry smile was answer enough.

-

Aelin pulled up at her apartment just past six o’clock. She had totally lost track of time, though she didn’t regret it. Rowan had spent the better part of the afternoon coaxing noises from her she didn’t even know she could make.

Upon entering, Aelin found Ansel at the table eating Chinese takeout. “I wasn’t sure you were coming back,” she said with a raised brow. “I got extra in case you did.” Ansel gestured to the other container of Chinese.

Aelin replied, “Thanks. I need to change first.” She was still wearing last night’s outfit. Again. This was becoming a habit.

When Aelin came back out in a t-shirt and yoga pants and sat at the table, Ansel just looked at her. Stared, like she was seeing deep into her soul.

“Okay, you’re going to have to stop that. It’s freaky,” Aelin stated.

Ansel sighed. “I’m working on my tell-me-all-of-your-secrets stare. Ugh, just fess up, will you?”

Aelin tried not to laugh. “No. Stop prying.”

“I know I blab a lot, but if I swear not to tell a soul, will you at least answer, like, some minor questions? I have nothing else to do with my life.”

Ansel looked so pathetic that Aelin hesitated. “If you won’t tell anyone, you may ask some things. I might not answer, though.”

Ansel immediately brightened. “Great. Okay, I’m assuming his name is a no. Mm, do you like like him?”

Aelin could only imagine if Ansel went and told the others, including Rowan, that she liked the dude. That would be humiliating. Ansel wouldn’t break her word, though. “Yes,” she answered firmly, surprising herself. She realized she did like Rowan a lot, though.

Ansel smiled. “Interesting. I can only assume he works at the office because of your secrecy, not to mention hooking up with him at an office party. Do I know him?”

Most everyone from the office went to the bar; this wasn’t a revealing question. “Probably.” Okay, definitely, but whatever.

“Is he good in bed?”

“Gods, Manon asked the same question. You perverts. Yes, he is very good in bed.” Aelin was tiring of the interrogation and also started to get nervous she might reveal something. “I’m done with the probing now. Want to watch Grease?” The two of them lived for old movies. They had seen Grease about a dozen times already. She knew the offer would be enough to get Ansel off her back.

“Sure. I’m not done with you, though.”

Aelin rolled her eyes. Then they spent the evening watching movies and gossiping about their friends. Luckily, Ansel seemed to have dropped the subject of the secret boyfriend for the night.

Yes, it could be troublesome to deal with her friends’ inclination to snoop, but she and Rowan would tell them if it got serious. Was it heading in that direction? At first Aelin had thought the attraction was purely sexual, but then they talked and laughed he made her heart flutter and Aelin wasn’t so sure anymore. The only question was whether Rowan felt the same about her.

Out of pure desperation, Aelin pulled out her phone. help im bored.

If Rowan was the type to use emojis, he surely would have sent an eye roll. He wasn’t though, and he annoyingly wouldn’t stop using correct grammar and punctuation. Prick. Only a minute after Aelin texted him, Rowan replied, What’s Ansel doing? Is she still at Fenrys’?

she’s currently laying on my lap sound asleep. not before finishing the fried rice though

Poor thing. Aelin could feel the sarcasm oozing out of that text. What do you want me to do about it?

be entertaining. tell a joke or something. im lonely

You’re a very needy person.

i am not

You certainly were today. Aelin blushed at that.

tell me rowan whitethorn is not sending me dirty texts! i should block you or something

Needy and overdramatic. No surprise there.

you need to work on your flattery skills

Fine, then, Your Majesty. You are the most genteel, sensitive, kind, and respectful person I have ever met. Please accept my sincerest apologies. Aelin snorted at this.

*sigh* you could at least try to say something accurate like awesome or fascinating or something. we all know im not nice

How true.

stop bullying me. ask me on a date

Is that an order?

yes

Would you like to go on a date with me?

hmm... i’ll have to think about it

Why do I even bother?

because im irresistible

I’m going to sleep now. Work tomorrow. You should too.

night

Goodnight.

Rowan was right; she should get some sleep. Even if she wanted to text him all night.

“Ansel, up.” Aelin poked her on the forehead. “I can’t get up with you snoring on my lap.”

Ansel was nearly impossible to rouse. Aelin settled the matter by shoving her off onto the floor, which earned her a severe scolding.

In bed, Aelin couldn’t stop thinking about Rowan. It got to the point where she couldn’t help but shove her hand under the waistband of her yoga pants, getting off with the help of the thought of his capable fingers.

Great. Now Aelin was just praying she wasn’t going to start blushing and batting her eyelashes at him. She wondered if he was thinking about her as he touched himself. Probably not. He was probably asleep, untroubled by thoughts of her.

Rowan Whitethorn was distracting Aelin from... well... everything. Maybe if she tried thinking about when they hated each other. Or when she judo flipped him. Yes, think of beating him up.

How was Aelin going to handle work tomorrow, being able to see him but not touch him? Rowan Whitethorn. Damn him.

#rowaelin #tog #sneaking around #my writing

[neocityarchive]

blind love | l.m.k.

— in which mark lee is so much more than just your best friend but you were too blind to realize it.

word count: 7.2k | warnings: light swearing | blind love - lola young |

a/n: i didnt mean for it to be this long but i hope you enjoy!!!

“Just friends,” Mark said, his voice still steady even in the growing tension of the moment. “That’s all you said we are, right?”

Your head dropped down to look at your hands, not knowing what to say. The overbearing guilt of rejecting his sudden confession was crushing your chest that it became painful to breathe.

“I’m sorry, Mark,” was all you could say. You forced yourself to meet his gaze through your already glassy eyes, wanting to let him know the sincerity of your words.

He smiled kindly, shaking his head. There was sadness in his eyes. And in all the years you two have known each other, you could tell how hard he was trying to hide it. “It’s okay. That’s all we’ll be.”

You bumped your head repeatedly against your study table in an attempt to rid yourself of the memory that’s constantly been playing in your head. 

It was a Sunday which meant there were no classes, which meant the university was closed, which meant that you couldn’t even make an excuse to see your best friend Mark who somehow, after almost three years of friendship, suddenly decided that it was a good idea to tell you he loves you more than a friend should love a friend.

You couldn’t say it happened out of nowhere. He’s been saying he has something important to tell you for almost two weeks before the incident but every time you confront him about it, he always makes up some lame excuse to dodge. It took a lot of self-hate for yourself and a nice amount of his protective instinct to finally make him spit it out. 

He came to your apartment that night, finding you barefaced, wearing a pair of sweats and one of his hoodies that you stole some time ago. From that he already knew you weren’t okay. You like wearing his stuff to seek some sort of comfort. Somehow, the smell of his clothes helps calm you down.

You were supposed to help him finish a report but you couldn’t concentrate after getting a below satisfactory grade on a major exam. College has done nothing but give you a shitload of insecurities lately and this just pushed you off the edge. The only thing that has been keeping you sane was the knowledge that you had someone who you can run to at the end of the day. Someone who is willing to listen to your rants and would do almost anything to cheer you up.

That day, however, none of Mark’s usual encouragement worked on you. He was getting frustrated hearing you downplay yourself because of a single exam. You started going on about how stupid you felt, how staying up all night to study did nothing but make you ugly. Mark countered every insult you threw at yourself, throwing in a few jokes here and there, all of which you ignored. But when you went on about how all of this made you unworthy of anything, how no one could possibly love you in this state, he just couldn’t take it anymore.

“I love you,” he snapped, cutting you off from your long self-deprecating speech. 

“You’re my best friend. You’re supposed to say that,” you whined, clearly missing the point.

Mark, on the other hand, was barely holding it all inside. He ran his hands through his hair and sighed. “No, idiot. I love you. Stop saying no one could love you, because I do. And not just because you’re my best friend.”

It wasn’t until you noticed his hands were quivering that you realized what he really meant. Looking back on it, you couldn’t help but hate yourself. You were sure it took a lot of his courage (and frustration) to come clean to you like that, and you couldn’t even take him seriously at first.

“Mark, no,” you remember telling him.

“I do. I hate that I do, but I do.” He looked away. “I love you and I know you’re feeling burdened right now, but you don’t have to say it back.”

A part of you broke that day. You hated rejecting people after having gone through several rejections yourself. It’s the worst feeling. You always wished there was a way you could always return people’s feelings just so no one would get hurt, but the universe just doesn’t work that way.

You muttered about a hundred sorries to which Mark replied a hundred ‘it’s okay’s. Maybe it was meant to make you feel better, but it just felt like your heart was getting ripped off your chest.

Mark didn’t stay long after that. You didn’t even get to help him with his report. He said sorry for suddenly dropping the L-word and you said sorry for not being able to say it back. He smiled sadly and it took your everything not to cry. He asked if he could hug you and you didn’t even answer. You just went straight into his arms, burying your head in his chest like you’ve done so many times before, breathing heavily to keep yourself from breaking down. And when the two of you pulled away, he insisted on being alone for a while. You said okay followed by another sorry.

You didn’t know “being alone for a while” meant ignoring you for god knows how long. You see him at uni but he wouldn’t even meet your eye. Even when you share the same class, he would choose to sit as far from you as possible. Once, he entered a cafe you were in and upon seeing you inside, he immediately turned around and walked away.

He’s ignoring you and he isn’t even being subtle about it. Mark Lee could never be subtle about anything, not even his feelings. You really were just too blind to realize anything.

Even other people saw how he felt. People used to come up to you all the time and ask about your “boyfriend” Mark. Sure, you would blush, shy that people thought you’re in a relationship with your best friend. When you explain that you weren’t actually dating, you would get the same shocked reaction every time. One of your friends even said you acted more like a couple than most people in a relationship do. You always thought it was just because you and Mark were such good friends.

“Friends don’t hold hands in public,” you remember Renjun saying.

“We don’t hold hands. He just grabs me and drags me to places,” you said defensively.

“And they don’t hug each other and stare at each other’s eyes while talking about pizza,” Jaemin scoffed.

You just rolled your eyes at them. It never crossed your mind that maybe they were right. You and Mark have never acted like how friends should. Maybe it’s the reason why you’re in this mess after all.

You sighed to yourself. You miss him. You can’t even pretend that you don’t. He’s become such a huge part of your everyday life that you couldn’t just ignore the sudden empty space he left when he said he wanted to be alone. You know he needed time to be by himself. But a part of you keeps holding on to his promise that even after his confession, you two would still be friends. And friends text each other, right? So all your attempts at communication depended on just that.

Thursday, 5:31 PM

You: wanna go watch a movie? i’ll buy the tickets.

Mark: cant. i have an exam tomorrow. sorry :/ maybe next time?

You: oh. okay. goodluck on your exam :)

Friday, 2:21 AM

You: [photo] this is possibly the cutest cat photo i’ve seen in awhile

Mark: that’s cute but dogs are still cuter

You: … okay?

Mark: go to sleep, y/n

Friday, 12:03 PM

You: i know you dont have class rn. have lunch w me?

Mark: oh i already ate with jaemin. sorry!!

You: it’s okayyyy :>> i’ll see u later? it’s friday night sooo we can hang out.

Mark: idk the boys already asked me to go out tonight

You: oh okay have fun!

Saturday, 6:54 PM

You: maaaark

Mark: y/nnn

You: [types] i miss you kajdhfhdksjdh [deletes]

You: nothing haha wanna grab some coffee?

Saturday, 7:01 PM

You: nvm haha have a nice nighhhttt

Sunday, 10:21 PM

You: hey can we talk

Mark: ???

You: please?

Mark: ye what about?

You: you said we’d still be friends

Mark: lol aren’t we?

You: this isn’t how friends talk to each other. i miss having an actual conversation with you.

You: we dont even see each other anymore.

Mark: i literally reply more to u than i do to jaem wdym haha

You: wow fine okay

Mark: ?????

You: i guess i deserve that haha

Mark: im tired y/n. night.

You: :( nighttt

You checked your messages for the nth time, reading everything as if something was gonna miraculously change with the cold conversation thread. Your fingers have been hovering over the keypad, typing and deleting ‘i miss you’ and ‘talk to me’ for about a hundred times already.

You don’t get why you can’t just say it. What’s so wrong with telling your best friend you miss him? Why is it so hard to press send? Why are you suddenly so afraid of how he would reply or if he would even reply at all?

It was only 10:30 in the evening. You know for sure Mark is only lying about going to sleep. He never sleeps this early unless he really is tired. He does nothing on Sundays so he can’t possibly be tired. Sundays are usually just the two of you hanging out in his apartment or yours, just to watch movies or study together. So what did he do today?

“Stop thinking about him,” you grumbled to yourself. “It’s just Mark. He’s a big boy, he can handle himself.”

But that’s not the point, a voice inside your head said. Just tell him you miss him.

You typed it again, ‘I miss you,’ but deleted it as soon as it was finished. Again. 

You’ve spent everyday with Mark that it suddenly hurts to think he’s enjoying the time you usually spend together alone. It’s crazy how you can’t stop thinking about how his day went or if he’s okay or whether he’s eaten or not. You know how stubborn he can be. Sometimes, he’d get so engulfed in whatever he’s doing that he would accidentally skip meals unless you remind him otherwise. 

“Fuck this,” you muttered to yourself. You figured you won’t ever be left at peace if you don’t do anything about whatever you’re feeling, so you decided to text Jaemin.

Sunday, 10:52 PM

You: jaeeem hi :)

Jaemin: y/n!!!!! hello :>

You: sorry for bothering you but have you talked to mark lately?

Jaemin: im talking to him rn haha why? you want me to ask him something?

You: not really hahaha how is he?

Jaemin: haha why not ask him yourself

You: he doesnt wanna talk to me lol pls just answer

Jaemin: he’s stubborn as always. he wont listen to me.

You: why, what’s he doing?

Jaemin: idk but it’s definitely not talking to you ksjdjkd

You: … very funny

Jaemin: sorry lmaooo he’s running on an hour or two of sleep everyday

You: jaemin!! why won’t you scold him?

Jaemin: we do! he just doesn’t listen. u know he only listens to you.

Jaemin: idk why you guys still arent together lmao bunch of idiots tbh

You: we’re just friends

Jaemin: rlly? oh btw mark hyung is looking for his save the bees shirt. did u see it anywhere?

You: yeah he left it here like two weeks ago when he slept over

Jaemin: LMAOOO DOESNT SOUND LIKE FRIENDS TO ME CHIEF

You: i fckingskjfhfn hate you

Jaemin: HJSJSHHDJD ok but seriously tho mark hyung is fine. just give him time, he’ll come around.

Jaemin: he misses you but u didnt hear it from me

Jaemin: ok bye he’s getting suspicious now lol

You: idk how you’re both an angel and the devil at the same time

You: anw thanks jaem. dont tell him i asked about him lol byeee

You sighed, putting your phone down in surrender. Your mind was more of a mess now than it was before you talked to Jaemin. You hate that he makes sense especially about the weird, more-than-friendly dynamics of your relationship with Mark. But more importantly, your head was beginning to be overfilled with worry.

Mark runs on barely two hours of sleep everyday. No wonder he always looks so out of it whenever you see him in the hallway. You wanted to call him, to tell him that he should sleep already, to remind him that he shouldn’t overwork himself, that doing just enough is okay. But you know he doesn’t want to talk to you. The cold replies and the ‘????’ were more than enough to tell you that.

Still, you figured it was worth a try sending him a little reminder. So you grabbed your phone once again and typed a message, revealing a little more of your emotions than you intended to. And before you could even think twice about it, you hit send.

Sunday, 11:04 PM

You: hey i know you’re still not asleep. dont worry, you dont have to reply to me. i just wanna tell you that you should take care of yourself. i know you. you’re stubborn and sometimes you won’t sleep or eat unless someone reminds you to so,, this is me reminding you haha. stop overworking yourself mark, please? you cant be sick cause i cant take care of you since you wont talk to me… lol jk. but seriously, get more rest (and talk to me,, hahah jk again unless u wanna ;)) please go to sleep now. goodnight. see you around i guess.

You stopped texting Mark after that. You wondered if he would find the initiative to talk to you first if you didn’t start the conversation. Now, two days have passed and your sleep reminder remains to be the last message on your conversation thread. You couldn’t say it didn’t hurt. You were hoping for at least a small thanks but didn’t get anything at all.

You were starting to get more and more frustrated as the days went by. It’s so unfair that you are slowly losing your best friend because of this. It’s unfair that you can’t even be mad at him because you just broke his heart. You wished there was any way you could have changed what happened, but the past remains to be written.

That afternoon, you passed by one of the cafes you and Mark always go to. You went inside, suddenly craving their special banana muffin which he introduced to you some months ago. The owner recognized you right away as you came up to the cashier.

“You’re not with your boyfriend today?” she asked.

You felt your heart skip a beat and not in a good way. It hurt. You figured there was no use in explaining since she probably won’t believe that Mark is not your boyfriend so you just smiled sadly and answered, “No.”

The lady somehow talked you into buying two muffins so you can bring one to your “boyfriend.” After handing her your payment, you realized maybe that wasn’t such a bad idea. Mark always brings you stuff whenever you’re mad or upset. He knows exactly what you’re craving for even before you knew you were craving for it. Why not try if it works on him?

As soon as you headed out the cafe, you whipped your phone out to text Jaemin, asking if he knew where Mark was. It’s Tuesday, his most free day of the week so he could be anywhere. Jaemin replied not after five minutes.

Jaemin: not sure but he mentioned something about the library??

You: okay thank you!

From that, you knew exactly where Mark is. There was a small patio-like spot beside the library that he likes going to. Not a lot of people utilize the place since the tables and chairs are almost always filled with dried fallen leaves from the surrounding trees but Mark likes the thought of being close to nature.

That day though, there were more people around the area than usual. It was lunchtime so most people were out of the classrooms. Still, it wasn’t hard spotting Mark. It has never been much of a challenge finding him in a crowd of people. You saw him as soon as he came into view, sitting by the table on the corner under one of the ginkgo trees. He had his laptop open and a box of food beside it. His eyebrows furrowed in concentration one moment and then he was laughing the next. 

You were about to make your way towards him but immediately stopped in your tracks when you realized he wasn’t alone.

You didn’t know who the girl was. You’ve seen her a lot of times in class and in the hallway. You even have a vague memory of Mark talking to her one time. But you never really bothered to learn her name. She had that soft, innocent look that goes so well with her shy smile. She had her hair tucked in her ears to show just enough of her pretty face. She was beautiful. Unconventionally but undeniably. But none of that mattered.

When she said something with a smirk and Mark let out his trademark laugh, nose scrunching, hand repeatedly hitting the table, shoulders shaking and all, it felt like something punched you in the stomach. He uttered something in reply and now both of them are clutching their sides for laughing too hard. 

He looks happy, you thought, I should be, too.

But you aren’t. You continued watching their exchange, him showing her something on his laptop and both of them laughing once again. Your chest felt heavy, like something was sitting on it and now it hurts to breathe. You didn’t realize you’ve been clutching the plastic bag containing the muffin too hard until you felt the sting of nails digging on your palms. You knew you should look away but you couldn’t. You wanted to run towards him. You wanted to tell the girl to scooch over so you can sit beside Mark and give him his muffin.

This is pathetic. I should be happy for him, you said to yourself. But why am I not?

You wanted to be angry, to scream and say that it should be you he’s laughing like that with. To say that it’s you he should be spending his time with. You wanted to ask if he still feels the way he said he does about you. And if he does, then why this? But you remained glued to the ground.

You hated how you were being selfish. You rejected him, remember? So why do you expect him to follow your tails like an intoxicated mad dog? Why can’t you be happy at the possibility that he found someone that feels the same way he does? Why does it… hurt? It’s not supposed to. If you really are friends, then him being happy with someone after your rejection should make you happy as well. If you really are friends, then you shouldn’t be standing here looking stupid, watching them from afar, wishing he’s with you instead.

“What are you looking at?”

You jumped at the sudden disruption, almost dropping your muffins. “What the hell, Jaemin?!” you whined, finally looking away from Mark.

“Mark hyung and Mina?” he snorted.

So that’s her name. “No,” you lied, forcing yourself to take a step away, then another, then another.

“Are you jealous?” Jaemin teased. “Have you finally realized you’re also whipped for our hyung?”

“No,” you grumbled.

“Then why are you almost crying?” 

You blinked. You didn’t even realize the tears pooling in your eyes. Why are you being like this? “Shut up. I’m not.”

Jaemin only shrugged. “Fine. Torture yourself, then.” He smirked. “By the way, Jeno and I are inviting people to our place this Friday after exams. Just some drinks and maybe karaoke, I don’t know. We all deserve a break from hell. Wanna come?”

You didn’t reply. Your mind was too preoccupied with other things.

“Mark hyung is coming,” he said. “Maybe Mina too.”

“I don’t wanna go,” you said immediately, suddenly coming up with a decision.

The boy laughed. “You are jealous! God, I love it when you prove yourself wrong. You shouldn’t be though. You already know he likes you.”

“I’m not jealous! Stop it,” you whined, really wanting to cry this time. Everything is so frustrating and Jaemin is not being of any help. You wanted to go home and just wrap yourself in your blanket and maybe one of Mark’s hoodies.

“Then come to our place this Friday. It’s gonna be fun.” He grinned.

“Fine. Whatever. Just get away from me, you little shit,” you said, kicking him lightly in the butt.

You didn’t know if it was a lie or not but if Mark really is seeing someone now, you just didn’t like the idea of seeing them flirt with each other in front of your eyes. Even the thought of it makes you want to pull all your hair out. Is that considered jealousy? If so, why are you feeling it for someone who’s supposed to be just a friend?

Thursday came and you found yourself crying after realizing the shirt you’ve been wearing the whole day was Mark’s. No wonder he looked surprised seeing you in the hallway. He looked away immediately though, acting as if you weren’t there. It didn’t even cross your mind since you use this shirt quite a lot.

After calming yourself down, you put your playlist on shuffle and cried some more after Friends by Ed Sheeran started playing. You didn’t even realize how fitting the song was for your situation until now. Mark probably did.

You remembered him singing that song once. The two of you were just lounging in his apartment. He was playing his guitar while you pretended to study when in reality you were just looking at him. You watched as his fingers plucked and strummed the guitar strings while he softly mumbled lyrics, head bobbing to the tune. He’s good. Unsurprisingly, since he’s good at everything.

When he realized you were staring at him, he turned his head slightly to meet your eyes, one side of his lips curling up into a smirk. “No, my friends won’t love me like you do,” he sang. 

You looked away, your cheeks heating up almost immediately. It was hard to focus on your readings when he’s sitting right in front of you looking like that, singing like that. You sighed. He truly was never being subtle about how he felt.

After finishing the song, Mark put his guitar down and laid his head on your lap, not even bothering to ask if it’s okay. That’s how comfortable you were with each other.

“What are you doing?” You remember whining.

“Wake me up after 15 minutes,” he said, already closing his eyes. You took a photo of him that night. He’s cute when he’s asleep. Even cuter when you look at him up close. 

Of course, you just had to search your camera roll to find the photo. When you did, it felt as if a storm was raging on your stomach and a gorilla was pounding on your chest. It never dawned to you just how much it hurts that he suddenly left you alone until that moment.

“Goddamn, I miss you so much,” you muttered, looking at his peaceful expression in the photo.

And then you cried some more. You feel lost.

All you wanted to do was curl up in his arms and inhale his scent and listen to how his day went (and maybe accidentally fall asleep together). It sucks because you really had no one else to turn to. The single person who has always been your safe place doesn’t want to talk to you and even if he did, you really wouldn’t know what to say. Perhaps friends really aren’t like that. The thought of everyone being right when they said that maybe you and Mark were never really just friends has never been stronger than it was tonight.

Still, you couldn’t be bothered to sort your feelings out.

He feels like home, you thought. It was the best way to explain the sense of comfort and safety and the feeling of being more than enough that he provides you. It’s the only thing you can think of when your mind drifts to how he is always the constant person that you run to at the end of the day. But friends can feel like home, too, right?

Not to this extent. Not really.

Friday. You found yourself aimlessly roaming around the neighborhood after your classes in the hopes of distracting yourself from your feelings or whatever the hell they’re supposed to be called. You wouldn’t have remembered Jaemin’s party if you didn’t happen to pass by their apartment building.

You stood in front of it for two solid minutes, contemplating whether to go or not.

Mark might be there, you thought. With everything that’s going on in your head and with all the mess happening in your chest, would it really be a good idea to see him? You thought maybe all these things you’re feeling are just a result of missing him. All these sadness and confusion might just be because you miss your best friend.

So you entered the building. You told yourself that you’ll try talking to him again this time, no matter how stubborn he’s going to be. And if it still doesn’t change anything, then you will take it as a sign to let him go. If not forever, then at least for now.

You reached the door to Jaemin and Jeno’s apartment. Even from the outside, the sound of the bass can already be heard. You wondered how long before the neighbors would file a complaint against them, but knowing Jaemin and Jeno, their neighbors are probably inside, partying with them right now.

Before entering, you looked down on your chest just to make sure you were wearing your own shirt and not Mark’s. It didn’t feel right wearing his stuff anymore. God, it really felt like you just broke up. Why is it like this?

You took a deep breath and opened the door. There were already a lot of people inside even if it was just 8 in the evening. Most of them, you know the faces of. You smiled to greet some and muttered a hi to others.

Renjun spotted you as soon as you came into the living room. “Y/N!” He grinned, handing you a cup of god knows what. “Jaemin said he invited you but we were all pretty sure you were gonna ghost us. But you didn’t!”

You laughed hesitantly. “Thanks, I guess?”

“Drink up. It’s a cocktail I made myself,” he said proudly, almost forcing the cup into your mouth.

You took a sip, figuring it won’t do any harm but you spat the liquid back to the cup as soon as it touched your tongue. “What the hell did you put in this?”

He shrugged. “Honestly, I don’t know. I just mixed in everything I could find. Thanks for trying it out though. I’ve been looking for a volunteer for five minutes already.”

You frowned. There were a lot of things you were unsure of at the moment but there is one thing that’s certain: you have weird friends. You were about to complain to Renjun when he plucked the cup from your grip and went on to find another victim, not even bothering to listen when you said you literally spat on the cup.

Mark didn’t seem to be anywhere. The apartment wasn’t that big so if he was here, it would be easy to spot him. Maybe he decided not to show up after knowing you were coming. And honestly, part of you was relieved. As much as you wanted to talk to him, you still didn’t know what to say. 

I’m sorry I broke your heart, but I miss you so much and I did a lot of thinking and maybe we really shouldn’t be labeled as just friends but I don’t know if I love you, is that okay? That’s just stupid. This whole thing is stupid.

You wanted to leave. Parties have never really been your thing. You usually just go because Mark asked you to since he loves interacting with people. But you figured you needed some alcohol in your system, mainly as a distraction, but also to give you a boost of courage just in case. So you made your way to the kitchen, avoiding eye contact with anyone as much as possible.

You stopped in your tracks as you came to the kitchen. The sound of that laugh was all too familiar.

Great, you thought. Mark was there. And Mina was too. But so were Jeno and Jaemin who exchanged looks as soon as their eyes landed on you. They were all laughing about something before you came.

“You’re here!” Jaemin said a little too enthusiastically in a poor attempt to address the sudden increase of tension in the room.

“Hi,” you said, smiling sheepishly, purposefully avoiding Mark’s gaze which you could feel boring into you. “Just gonna get a drink.”

“Help yourself,” Jeno said. Jaemin smirked beside him. 

The refrigerator was just beside Mark. Just great, you thought again. You walked towards it, desperately trying to ignore the four pairs of eyes following your every move.

“Excuse me,” you muttered, still not looking at your best friend.

Mark took a step sideways before opening the fridge for you. You muttered a quick thanks before grabbing the first bottle your hands landed on, not even bothering to check what it was. You really just wanted to get out of there. Maybe the talking to Mark plan was flawed from the beginning because you clearly can’t find the courage in you to face him now.

Beside you, Mark clicked his tongue. He was so close that you could smell his perfume mixed with a bit of alcohol. It made your knees weak. 

He took the bottle from your hand and put it back before grabbing a different one and handing it to you. “The other one had vodka. Vodkas give you a headache, remember?” he said in a slightly annoyed tone.

“Oh.” Your voice sounded small even to your own ears. Not gonna lie, you wanted to cry at that moment. “Thanks.”

You could hear Jaemin snickering behind you but you couldn’t bring it in yourself to care. You turned to everyone and said a quick goodbye before dashing out of the kitchen.

Your heart was beating hard and rapidly and not because you moved too fast. You didn’t know why but it hurt seeing Mark like that, like he was okay, like nothing changed with the two of you. It hurt knowing that even after everything, he still knows you the best.

You wanted to run. You wanted to disappear. But you couldn’t leave without passing by the kitchen. Somehow, you know someone in there would stop you. If not Mark, then definitely Jaemin. But you really wanted to be alone. So you resorted to the next best thing. You whipped your phone out and sent Jaemin a text.

You: thanks for inviting me to this party. now i feel like shit :D

Jaemin: IM SORRY BUT DONT LEAVE YET TF

You:  i need to be alone and i cant leave without passing by the kitchen and seeing mark. so pls let me use your room for a while.

You: i wont do anything i promise. i just need to calm down.

Jaemin: fine but dont lock the door

You: okay thanks

The door to Jaemin’s room was at the other end of the apartment. You made your way through the noisy crowd, slipping from Renjun’s weird gimmicks when he tried to make you a victim once again, before finally reaching the quiet confines of Jaemin’s room.

The thin walls barely blocked the noise but at least there was no one else here. You sat at the edge of the bed and placed the beer bottle on the floor. You forgot you didn’t even manage to open it. So you just stared at your feet, trying to catch your breath even if you didn’t do anything. That heavy feeling on your chest was back again. It was now associated with being in Mark’s presence.

You started counting to ten to calm yourself down before burying your face on your palms, breaking down into sobs as soon as your forehead came in contact with your fingers. “God, why can’t I just…” you cried, “... admit it to myself already?”

You wanted to thrash around in the bed in frustration but you thought Jaemin didn’t deserve such a mess so you settled with getting up and lightly banging your head against the door. It’s a bad habit you do when you feel annoyed or frustrated. Mark has always been reminding you to stop before you hurt yourself.

Mark. Again. You groaned, hitting your head a little harder this time.

Someone knocked on the door making you stop. You took a step back, thinking you just imagined it. But there it was again.

“Someone’s here,” you said, trying to hide the sound of your voice breaking.

“I know. Can I come in?” It was Mark. There was no question. 

Your heart started pounding on your chest once again. You wanted to tell him to go away but you couldn’t find it in yourself to do so. 

He took your silence as a yes. He swung the door slightly and poked his head through the small opening. Your hands immediately flew to your face to hide the fact that you’ve been crying.

“You know, I came in here because I didn’t wanna see you when I pass by the kitchen if I leave then you come here making me look like a clown,” you said, your voice muffled by your hands.

Mark chuckled softly. “Why didn’t you wanna see me?”

You didn’t reply. Your face felt hot, not just because of the tears that just won’t stop falling but also because all the blood has come rushing to your cheeks.

Mark grabbed both your wrists and gently lowered your hands down, trying to see your face, but your head bent down as soon as it wasn’t covered. “Y/N, look at me,” he said, hands still on your wrists.

“No.”

“Are you crying?” The idiot crouched down to have a glimpse of your face making you whine and cover your face again. “Last I checked, I should be the one looking brokenhearted around here.”

“God I hate you,” you mumbled. “You ignored me for nearly four weeks and you come in here just to make fun of me.”

He let out an empty laugh. “Well, you did break my heart so…”

At that, you removed your hands from your face to look at him. You were going to say sorry but Mark had that smug look on his face that made you want to punch him. It was almost convincing if you weren’t so good at reading the real emotions in his eyes. His expression softened upon finally seeing you properly.

He looked away, not being able to hold your gaze either. That just confirmed how hard he was trying to keep up with the exterior he was showing everyone.

“I’m sorry,” you said, voice breaking.

He sighed.  “I told you. It’s okay.”

“But it’s not,” you cried. “I’m sorry I hurt you. I didn’t realize how easy it was to misread what we had because let’s face it, we don’t act like ‘just friends.’ I’m sorry because I was too blind to see how you felt even when you weren’t really trying to hide it. I’m sorry because even though I rejected you, I was so selfish that I still wanted to keep you for myself without realizing that you probably needed to be away from me to move on. I’m sorry because…” you swallowed.

Mark was just looking at you, eyebrows slightly raised in anticipation of what you were going to say next. You missed him. You missed that cute face of his. You missed being in his presence. You missed his voice and his laugh and how he loves teasing you even if he probably feels like shit inside. You missed everything. Four weeks have been too long without each other. Four weeks is too long without your best friend. Four weeks is too long without your home. And that’s when you realized…

“... I can’t let you go. And I might be too late, but I’m sorry that I only just realized why.”

“Why?” he asked. 

It was a simple question. Why? Yet it managed to carve out every single feeling you’ve ever felt for this boy. Every little moment he made you laugh. Every small heartbreak you get when he fails to keep his tiny promises. Every single night you ‘accidentally’ fell asleep next to each other. Every ounce of fulfillment you get when you finally convince him to sleep after a long day. Every goodnight. Every good morning. Everything.

“I love you,” you said. It sounded almost like an exhale.

For a moment, Mark didn’t reply. Your head immediately started swarming with unwelcomed thoughts. Maybe you were too late. You almost forgot about Mina who he seems to be having an excellent time with. Maybe he managed to move on within those four weeks. It’s possible, right? You had your chance and you missed it. 

Finally, Mark let out a laugh, his head falling down to look at the floor. “I told you you didn’t have to say it back,” he said, voice soft.

You shook your head. “I’m not saying it because you said it first,” you said. “I realize this might be the worst timing but I just thought you should know you weren’t the only one being stupid enough to fall for their best friend. I was just too dumb to realize that that’s what it was.”

“Why would it be the worst timing?” He frowned.

You felt like crying again. You really wish you had some alcohol in your system right now. Why is this whole confession thing taking so long? “‘Cause you’re dating Mina? Or trying to. I don’t know. I tried not keeping tabs on you because our friends are assholes who wouldn’t stop teasing me. She’s pretty, by the way. You two look good together.”

Mark laughed again. It was raw and real this time, and god, the way your chest tightened in endearment at the sound was so pure. “You thought me and Mina are dating?”

“Aren’t you? I’ve seen you guys together a lot.” Well, once. But you tend to overestimate things.

“No!” He snorted. “Jaemin and I are trying to get her and Jeno together. If anything, she made me realize that we definitely aren’t just friends.”

“Really?” Now you just feel stupid. But what else is new? It’s all you’ve been feeling lately. Come to think of it, Mark and Mina didn’t even come close to how you two act with each other.

“Really,” he said. “Friends don’t stay at each other’s place and cuddle with each other just to fall asleep, Y/N. Besides, I said I love you, didn’t I? Did you really think that’s just gonna go away that quickly?”

“Mark, I can’t even sort my feelings out. How am I supposed to figure out how yours work?” You sighed.

“Fine. Just to be clear, I still love you. Even if you don’t, I love you,” he said, taking both your hands and placing it on his shoulder before putting his on your waist.

“But I do.”

“Say it then.”

“I love you. Even if you’re the dorkiest person I know, I love you.” Your fingers tangled themselves in his hair. You’ve run your hands through his hair so many times before. You wondered why it never crossed your mind that you liked doing it not because his hair is soft but because you were sucker for the domestic feeling of it.

Mark couldn’t stop himself from smiling that he had to bury his face at the crook of your neck. “I’m not used to this, sorry.”

“Me neither,” you laughed.

When he finally composed himself, he pulled away just enough to look at you. All those times you’ve stood this close before does not even compare to how it’s like right now. This is the perfect mix of feeling new but familiar.

“You have no idea how many mornings I fought the urge to kiss you whenever we wake up next to each other,” he said in a soft voice.

“Well, nothing’s stopping you know, is there?” you muttered, eyes fluttering to his lips.

You pulled Mark down by the neck as he pulled you closer to him, your lips finally connecting. The idea of kissing him isn’t new to you. There were so many times before that you’ve found yourself inches away from his face and slamming your lips together wouldn’t have been such a bad idea. But this is the first you actually kissed him yet he felt so familiar that you were almost sure you’ve done this a million times before. His lips were soft against yours that it made you weak in the knees. If he weren’t holding onto you like he was, you probably would’ve crumpled already.

The two of you pulled away, breathless.

“Wow,” he breathed. “That didn’t even come close to how I imagined it would feel like.”

You laughed. “This whole night didn’t come close to how I imagined it would be like. I thought you were gonna keep on ignoring me. And honestly, I wouldn’t know how to cope anymore because I really, really miss you already. So thanks for saving me.”

“Stop making me blush. I don’t know how I can possibly love you more than this.”

You rolled your eyes but you couldn’t stop yourself from smiling. This was only one of the very few times that the reality went better than your expectations. But then again, maybe you and Mark have always been meant to happen. It was happening even before you realized it was. And now that you finally managed to sort how you both felt, there was no more wasting chances.

“Do I still have to ask you to be my girlfriend?” he asked.

“We’ve literally slept in the same bed so many times. I’d be more surprised if we’re not dating already,” you joked.

Mark grinned. “You’re literally the only one who didn’t realize that until today, but it’s okay, I still love you.”

You laughed. “Wanna go outside and pretend we didn’t make up? I’m 100% sure Jaemin betted on us.”

“I worry how your mind works sometimes, Y/N,” Mark said with a frown before kissing you on the forehead. “But let’s do it.”

You smiled. You’ve said it a lot but you really missed this proximity. You missed being able to hug him whenever you want, and now you can kiss him whenever you want too. You wanted to say you could get used to this, but the thing is… you already are.

#y/n is a clown here read at your own risk #BUT PLS ENJOY CAUSE I DID #dhjdkjfhdfk i should stop writing about mark #nct au #nct imagines #mark lee imagines #mark lee #nct mark au #nct prompts #nct blurbs #soft nct hours #sad nct hours #nct fluff au #nct angst au #nct dream au #nct 127 au

[honeydots]

127 with shuake would be good.

"My hands are not clean, and maybe they never will be, but they can still carry you home when you're ready to sleep."

once again. didnt forget abt these. im working thru em. 

Summary: Goro wakes up one day in a hospital bed with only a bullet wound to keep him company, and not a single memory of who he used to be. 

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(ao3 link)

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He was almost certain the last few weeks had been a dream. 

Or maybe, several long and white coated dreams. The kinds with bright lights at an arm's length, and ill-fitting clothes, and men coming in waves carrying their clipboards as flags. With deep voices all at once whispering, echoing, “what is your name?” 

Maybe he was in a hospital. 

His first day of full consciousness was slow and lonely. His second day too, time spent wiggling his toes and counting ceiling spots. Day three he asked for a glass of water and scared a nurse out of her skin, and his week was kickstarted. Which only really meant an actual doctor came in and declared retrograde amnesia the only explanation for his condition.

His “condition” was quite the word to use. Which condition? They could play bingo. Was it his memory loss (obvious, weak narrative), or could it have been the state of comatose he’d been in (intriguing), or even the bullet wound (now here was a mystery, what a plotline) he’d heard remarkably little about? Amnesia, the fickle bastard, was the type to bring one answer to dinner, and disappear by morning. 

But what did he know? 

Well, he knew that this was a pretty shitty hospital.  As far as how he assumed they should be managed, this one was on a low tier. And according to the nurse, as was their police station. Incompetent, and uncaring of his case, which had apparently been made. 

It’d been a week now. He could get up. Limited, with his IV, but he could. The nurse said later that maybe the police would listen to him now, since he was conscious, basically up and kicking. ‘Listen to him now,’ was also an interesting phrase, because he hadn’t been speaking in the first place. 

He wasn’t injured. His vitals were fine, the nurses had told him, and commented he was taking up an unnecessary bed. Not that he could actually make any kind of sound argument, which was frustrating enough on its own, but this didn’t seem like proper procedure. 

He was, once again, very alone in his room. He thought about going to the police station. Incompetent as they may be, there would be no answers here. There was no one here to help him; some healthy boy in a hospital bed. 

He got up. His IV was stuck in poorly, the tape just barely holding on. They’d disconnected him from all sorts of machines. Nothing was roping him down except for saline solution and his own two feet. 

And, he was already standing. 

It wasn’t hard to pull out. 

His hospital gown was tied all the way down, falling just past his knees. He had odd socks on, their texture was weird, and they were several sizes too big. They were thick and patterned, maybe slip proof? But shoeless as he was, they would do.  

The hallway was very empty. He was on the ground floor, but he wasn’t sure there were other stories. Maybe one, or a basement. It didn’t matter much. There just wasn’t anyone around. His concern was in that he didn’t know how long their absence would last. 

There was a glass door at the end of the hallway.

To the police he’d go. A medical bill dodging amnesiac would probably get him some attention. Enough to get a name? 

The door was not locked. That was probably good, for a hospital, and not a security breach, which is where his mind had initially gone. 

Doors are meant to be opened, he thought. There really isn’t anything wrong with that. 

It was just a little bright outside. The sun was up but not too far. He was in the parking lot, and it was almost entirely devoid of cars. Small, small hospital. 

He didn’t exactly have a map, and no nurse was around to give him any condescending directions. He’d might as well go forward, then. He started walking, and thought to himself how odd his feet felt on the concrete. 

No one was out. He hesitated to call it deserted, just maybe a bit early. He kept walking, nerves high, still worried he might get mauled by a stray doctor.

It seemed like this was a very small town, going by his surroundings. Lots of trees, and cracked roads, and old buildings. He didn’t think much of taking it all in. He’d have time for sightseeing when he remembered his initials. 

A bit farther ahead was a woman, leaning on a car parked on the side of the road. She was glaring down at her phone. She looked— maybe irritated? Or tired. He wondered if he could ask her for directions. An aimless stroll through town wouldn’t take him to where he was going, after all. 

“Excuse me,” he called, “Ma’am? Do you know the way to the police station?” He approached her with just enough caution to call it looking out for himself, ignoring the sorry state he was already in. 

She glanced up from her phone. Her hair was short, and dark, and it bobbed around her face. She registered him for a moment, and her eyes went big. 

“Holy shit.” 

He knew enough to know that wasn’t the answer he was looking for. “I need to go to the police, please.” 

The woman kept staring at him. “You—” she stuttered, “are you Goro Akechi? You are, aren’t you?” 

This encounter was already going awry. Did she know him? “Do you know me?” 

“Uh…I mean, no, we’ve never met.” She pushed herself off her car, and slowly put her phone back into her pocket. 

That wasn’t really what he meant. He needed to persist, here. This could be a lucky hit. “No I— Do you know who I am?” 

Blatant confusion spread across her face. “Uh…  Are you not Goro Akechi?”

“I don’t know,” he answered. 

She stared at him again, almost suspicious. Then she looked him up and down.

“Are you… coming from the hospital?” 

“Yes.” He watched her mouth open just a bit in disbelief. He wondered how this woman knew him. If explaining would get more information out of her, then he’d do it. Privacy only existed when you had something to protect, after all. “I’ve been given an amnesiac diagnosis, you see. I’m going to the police station to see if I can find any sort of lead on myself.” 

She looked shocked. “Amnesia? And you’re going to the cops?” She blinked, and suddenly looked very serious. She grabbed one of his shoulders. “Wait. That’s bad news. Don’t go to the police.” 

He (Goro?) hadn’t expected to hear that.“What? And why shouldn’t I?”  

“You… holy shit, kid, do you actually have amnesia?” She pinched the bridge of her nose. “Listen you need to— oh good god, this is gonna sound like I’m trying to kidnap you— I definitely know who you are. I can tell you but we shouldn’t… here. If someone finds you… ” She exhaled hard, and looked him dead on. It made Goro freeze. “Fuck, okay. The gist of it is— you’re in more danger than you realize. Like, a lot more. Will you come talk with me in my car?” 

Alright. So, a lot to process, and a lot he didn’t know how to. He didn’t even know if he should process it, or if that was the kind of story that should be immediately disregarded. Someone telling you to not go to the police and please get in their car seemed like a textbook stranger-danger red flag. There had been something uneasy about her tone, though. Like genuine concern— not that such a thing couldn’t be perfected and acted, however. 

But she’d given him a name. And it felt almost tangible, the more he thought about it. Less bendable and more sturdy. It was very easy to attach to himself. And it was a lead, wasn’t it? 

“Hey, did you get discharged, or are you just wandering around? Cause they’re gonna be looking for you if they didn’t let you out,” said the woman, jump starting Goro (almost certainly, Goro) out of his head. “And kid, I cannot just let you turn yourself in to the cops.” 

‘Turn myself in,’ he thought to himself. Such particular wording. It made his stomach drop. This woman knew more than him, clearly. And really, for fucks sake, if he died, he died. Obviously he hadn’t left enough of a mark on anyone to warrant not a single visitor during a five year coma. According to the nurses, it was more evident that he’d simply been dumped in town— like someone had already been trying to get rid of him. 

Well, whoever they were, they’d forgotten to bury his bones. 

He straightened himself up. “Okay.” 

She looked surprised, at first. She swallowed around it. “...Yep, okay then. Hop in before you change your mind.” She popped open her car door, and Goro circled around the side and followed suit. 

Her car was messy. It was filled with food wrappers and empty bottles, but papers and notebooks were scattered around, too. So she kept busy, it seemed. He decided he’d consider this a point in the not-about-to-murder-you direction. Too much here that could be used as evidence against her. Too personalized. He was almost envious. 

She adjusted her seat forwards and turned on the ignition. She was a bit jittery, Goro noticed, as she scratched the back of her head vigorously. 

“So, I’m gonna drive us somewhere that isn’t here but I can talk and drive so, just— like,  just a second, okay?” 

He nodded. She drummed her fingers against the steering wheel. “...Goddamn,” she muttered, and then pressed down on the gas, turning her car onto the barren road. 

She kept her eyes forward, but kept true to her promise of talking. She sighed. “Right. So, uh, to start… Okay, first, my name’s Ichiko Ohya, I’m a journalist. Get that cleared away. Next comes you which is a bit more complicated, but you probably wanna know why we’re dodging cops so I’ll start there. Or, as close to there as I can.”

He would take anything he could get from her, actually. The cops situation was undeniably concerning, but right now he was essentially a sentient empty shell, absorbing everything for the first time. A kid in a metaphorical candy store, but the store was a dodgy reporter who still might be kidnapping him and just stalling.  He’d call himself the kid, but it dawned on him he didn’t even know how old he was. Fantastic. More things the hospital staff hadn’t bothered to tell him. 

“Your name’s Goro Akechi. I told you that already but, that’s you. At least I’m like, ninety percent sure.” She spared him a glance. “You do look a bit different but all in all I’m— I’m pretty sure. Just the hair and the stubble, you know.” 

Goro hadn’t exactly looked in a mirror recently, so no, he didn’t know. He knew he had long hair— certainly longer than Ohya’s. He rubbed his jaw and felt the rough and gritty bristles that had prickled onto him. It bothered him that he didn’t know. It bothered him that he didn’t know what he looked like. 

Ohya continued, not letting him dwell for long. “You’re also sort of famous. Well, you were, and it was mainly with teenagers and moms in the city, but you were a popular detective. So, that’s how I know you. And I swear I’m getting to the running from cops part, but you have to know this first first. Oh, shit, it’s right here.” She took a sharp turn into a grocery store, and Goro had to grip the side to keep steady in his seat. 

She didn’t act very sheepish about it. “Sorry, for that. We’re gonna talk in here.” 

She paused her explanation to pull into a spot, which Goro felt a little thankful for because, under his circumstances, that felt like a lot of information to take in. He was well known, but not well known enough that anyone out here knew him. ‘Famous detective’ raised some weird alarms in his head, a position absurd enough that it might be true. It felt unfortunately right, like a disappointing truth. It was different from his name, more unwelcome. But it didn’t click either. Nothing had been clicking at all. 

There was a pit growing in his stomach, like something was in there, chewing down on his insides. But he’d found he didn’t care for ignorance, so he would put up with it for as long as it took. 

Ohya turned her car off, pushed her seat away from the wheel, and got herself comfortable. She faced him, nonchalant but sincere. “So this is where the really juicy stuff comes in, alright? So like, listen up now, if you weren’t.” There was something very serious about her eyes. 

As if he’d have let any of her explanation slip under his radar. “I’m listening.”  

That was a good enough answer for her, it seemed. 

“I’m trying to think of the best way to explain this, honestly,” she started, thumbing the back of her hand. “You… okay, there was this guy. He was a really big politician that you were involved with, and it’s kind of a gray area as far as what you were doing for him, but you and him worked together. Kind of. He was a really shitty guy.” 

She looked like she was considering her words. She turned her focus out the windshield for a moment, and sighed again. “He basically ended up confessing because this group— well, actually, they don’t matter right now. He confessed, and he talked about you. For some of it. It was a long fucking confession. But half of what he said wasn’t even coherent. He was talking about some crazy shit and no one knows what he meant by it. You were part of that whole section.” She paused again, thinking. Goro let the silence sit. He didn’t want to jump to a conclusion until he’d heard her out. Which was proving difficult, truthfully, because this all left a sour taste in his mouth, one that had almost certainly been there before. 

“They wanted to take you in for questioning, but you disappeared. And, to add fuel to the fire, they were having a hard time getting any actual concrete evidence,” she began. “Can’t make an arrest based on a confession alone. He did other things, too, and that's what he ended up being indicted for, but there's still that problem. This whole chunk of confession is still there that technically lines up with his timeline of events, but there’s no way to prove it. That’s why they want you,” Ohya’s expression darkened. “At least, publicly, that’s why they want you.” 

She readjusted in her seat again. She faced him fully. “This guy— Shido’s his name— he’s got goons. Not to mention, he had complete control over the police, and there are other higher up’s who worked with him. Some of those guys got busted with Shido’s confession, but there’s a few where there just isn’t enough evidence to put ‘em away. These are the ones who you need to watch out for.” She took a deep breath, not finished. 

“I’m gonna be frank with you,” she continued. “They want you dead. They don’t want a single loose end, and you’re still dangling. The police are on their side. Are you understanding me?”

Goro tried to let the words sink in. That was more than a lot to think about. The creature in his stomach was grinning now, he could tell. But, this was also no time to get overwhelmed. If her words were true— which, the overwrought familiarity of her explanation compelled him to trust them— he needed to keep his head above the water. 

“So these— subordinates. You’re saying they’re after my life? They can’t be actively hunting me down, if they have the influence you’re implying, or I’d have been found by now,”  Goro said, deciding to ignore the fear creeping up his spine. “So then, what’s my public status? How unlikely was it that I was the egoless comatose patient they were searching for?” 

“Uh…” said Ohya, seeming like she was the stunned one. “Well, you’re right, they don’t really have a manhunt right now. I guess I don’t need to worry about beating around the bush here— you’re presumed dead.”

Interesting. “That doesn’t surprise me,” he said, furrowing his brow. “But, obviously, a body was never found. They’re probably prioritizing morgues then, not hospitals. That does explain why I wasn’t discovered after all this time.” Though, if they’re smart, they’d also keep an eye on cases like his. They probably were, in fact. He’d gotten lucky that the police here were clueless. 

Ohya gave him a very funny look. “You know, it’s almost creepy how well you’re taking this. You were in a coma this whole time?” She shook her head. “I’d have thought you’d be more out of it, honestly.” 

“Is this not what you’d consider a wake-up call? I’ve been ‘out of it’ for a week. It’s common sense that I’d react like this,” he told her. Just going outside had cleared his head. He had a feeling hospitals had never been a fitting place for him. “Yes, I was in a coma,” he added, as an afterthought. “They said I’d been shot.” 

Just as the words left his mouth, he realized the implications that had. 

Ohya noticed just as fast. “You said shot?” 

They’d certainly both had the same assumption— maybe an attempt had already been made after his life. 

But there was something that felt wrong about that scenario, too. “I’m not… entirely sure it’s what you think it is,“ he replied. Maybe wrong wasn’t the correct word but, it wasn’t completely right either. “There’s no benefit to not making my body public. And, if they’re really after me, it seems messy, to say the least, that they didn’t finish the job properly.” He tried to speak confidently. The effort was familiar, too. Part of him wondered when he’d get the chance to do some self-analysis and tear himself apart. 

Ohya caught on very quick, rolling with every punch Goro gave. “Christ, kid. What kind of shady shit were you into? So we’re thinking you’ve got another group after you?” 

“I don’t know.” 

He really didn’t. There were missing pieces, but that was evident. He had no end of missing pieces. If he was supposed to be some detective, then maybe he should get on with acting like it, and figure out whatever the hell this was.

Whatever business he’d wrapped himself into. 

Ohya, again, spoke too quickly for Goro to finish digging through his own head.

“Maaan, I’ve really got myself into something haven’t I?” She rubbed her eyes, like she was already exhausted. “Look, I’m a busy woman. Don’t expect much out of me, but apparently I’ve got a bad habit of adopting puppies. So I’ll see if I can at least point you in the right direction, okay?” 

He didn’t have much of another choice, other than to let himself be killed. He nodded again, not sure whether to call himself pleased or solemn. 

She buzzed her lips and looked at him, obviously thinking. Then she opened her car door. “Well, okay. First things first, you gotta get some clothes, ‘cause you can’t go walking around like that. God, you don’t even have shoes…” She got out and stretched, and then turned back to him for one last comment. “Don’t expect much, okay? I’m not made of money. Don’t you dare go anywhere, either.” 

She slammed the door shut and started walking into the store. 

Goro was glad for the moment of peace. He let his jaw relax, closing his eyes. He hated how familiar the stress felt, and how desperate he was to welcome the feeling. A life or death promise was about as thrilling as one day should get. 

Getting any memory back was his top priority. But he didn’t have an inkling of where to start. He didn’t have a phone, or a computer, and certainly not a home. He guessed he could use a public computer at a library, but just searching himself might raise more questions than answers. They’d be important questions, he was sure, but he wondered about the bias, the assumptions, the fact that it’d be an outside perspective looking in. He didn’t know how delicately he should go about regaining his memories. 

Not to mention, he had only the word of a stranger and a low feeling in his stomach confirming he was even Goro Akechi. And now, with the reputation he’d had, if he even wanted to be him was questionable. Memories of such a life seemed… unpleasurable, at best, but he hadn’t set himself up to be able to just start over. Remembering his past was his best chance at plain old survival. 

He wanted to have some kind of plan before Ohya came back, but he was drawing blanks. What he really needed was someone who knew him personally. Beyond media attention, if there was a single poor soul around who’d actually known him. He found himself doubting such an existence, past anyone who was out for his head. 

He heard the car doors unlock, and he opened his eyes. Ohya was walking back with two bags, and she was on her phone again, barely looking where she was going. Well, there goes him having a plan. Bouncing ideas back and forth was the last thing he wanted to do. It was time wasted and he knew he would get frustrated, but his choices were limited. At least Ohya seemed pretty knowledgeable. It was possible she knew more than she was letting on, too. 

She opened up the car door and tossed the bags onto his lap. “Hey,” she began, setting herself back into place, “I got your stuff but— I remembered something in there that might be a good starting place for you, if I can run that by ya.” 

Or, of course, he could hear Ohya out and avoid idea bouncing all together. Something solid had come by much quicker than he thought. 

*****

Ohya’s plan wasn’t bad at all. 

She’d told him she had a contact from a few years ago, who was in charge of a bundle of self storage units. Apparently a certain “Goro Akechi” had registered himself one a couple months or so after Goro’s public disappearance. They’d told her once they noticed the name, but Ohya hadn’t taken up the lead at the time. When Goro asked why they’d even told her that, she left it at “no reason important,” and kept the topic adamantly off the table. Goro would push the envelope if it weren’t for the fact that his life (a life he didn’t even know he had, for the record, and one that still bothered him) was on the line. 

If this unit did belong to him, there could be a very solid lead on himself in there, and leads on his acquaintances, too. Ohya didn’t know if the garage still existed, though. So she said she’d give them a call and see if they could figure something out. 

Which is what led to Goro sitting in a barber’s chair. After he’d gotten dressed (an ensemble of sweats, a sweatshirt, and tennis shoes) Ohya had commented that he looked like he belonged in a homeless shelter, and “really needed a haircut.”

She said something about how he’d always kept himself looking clean, and Goro believed it. He was already feeling discomfited the way he was. So unkempt and basically filthy. So, she decided that while she was getting her contact all in order, she’d pay for him getting a trim and a shave. 

She was helping him more than he’d expected her to, in ways he didn’t really expect. But he’d take what he could get. He’d hardly had a reason to say no. 

He sat waiting in front of a mirror. He hadn’t gotten a good look at himself until now, but god, she was right, he looked pretty fucking bad. 

The first thought that came to him was sickly. Eyes sunken in, deep bags under his eyes. You wouldn’t expect him to have just been in a permanent state of slumber for the past five years. Or maybe the correct assumption would be, a coma hadn’t been enough sleep for him. 

His hair was just below his shoulders, and he had a very pitiful looking beard. He didn’t recognize himself. He didn’t think that would change much after his haircut, but it made him itch. It was a face that didn’t feel like his. He wanted to rip it off and replace it with a new one, one he knew better. 

Maybe he’d never liked looking at his reflection. 

Ohya had spoken to the barber for him. The one he got either wasn’t the talkative type, or really got his vibe of not wanting to speak to anyone. She went to work in silence, washing his hair with fruity shampoo and dressing him in a long black apron. That was all fine, albeit uncomfortable, but once she started cutting, Goro found he couldn't watch. The snips were loud, and definite, and it left his chest feeling tight. He couldn’t do anything but let his thoughts run blank. 

He wondered if that was hair he’d had before his incident, now falling away. He’d have the same eyes, and organs, and teeth, too. But he felt all wrong in this body. Like it had gone on without him. 

He was thankful when she moved to his beard. Just for a moment, though, because having someone so close to his face made him want to retreat as far back into himself as possible. A blade so close to his throat. He wondered how hard of a push it would take to make a cut. He wondered how deeply he’d have to go to make it bleed. 

 Maybe he’d always hated barbers, too. 

When she’d announced she was finished, and Goro forced himself to look back in the mirror, it actually took him aback. It had taken years off him. She’d styled his bangs, and left no hair on his chin, but most importantly, it was clean. Soft looking. Pleasant. 

It was almost enough to distract him from the discolored scar plastered on his forehead. 

He stared for probably too long. His disheveled bangs had kept it clearly out of view on his first glance, but now that he was fresh and groomed, it pushed its way into the limelight. It was reddish, and almost shiny, and painstakingly circular. 

He could feel dread bubbling up. He tore himself away from the mirror, and found an instant sense of relief when he wasn’t staring anymore. 

Reflections and barbers. More to read into later, he supposed. He was learning he had been quite the hassle. What an annoyance. 

Ohya met him at the entrance. Pure amusement was all over her face. “Shorter than I expected, but you’re looking pretty smart like that.” Her eyes went to his scar, but she made no comment on it. She frowned, but that was all. 

Goro didn’t mind her reluctance on the topic. He raised his eyebrows, and spoke with the silent mutual understanding of  “that is one gnarly goddamn scar” between them. “Ah, and I’m sure the sweatpants add to the look.” 

“Watch it,” she snapped back, sliding into her usual demeanor. “Not like I could get you Levi’s, kid.” 

She paid for his haircut, and out of the shop they went. They walked to the car in anticipating silence. She had her phone out again, texting someone now. Goro didn’t want to get his hopes up. Texting could mean anything, or nothing, or half of one or the other. 

She pushed her seat back getting into the car, and pulled one leg up with her. Goro waited for her to speak, keeping himself tense. He really wouldn’t be able to loosen up if he tried, like a wound up doll who’d gotten stuck. 

Ohya broke the quiet. “It’s still there.” 

Goro sucked in, but didn’t let himself relax. Nothing ended there. It was one check off a list, but not all of them.

 “And can we go in?” 

Ohya blew air out of her mouth. “Well, she said she wants to make sure it's you, because there's only so many privacy laws she wants to break.” She shrugged at him. “But honestly, looking at you now, there's not a doubt in my mind you’re Goro Akechi. So, you can chill about it.” 

He leaned back into his seat. The tensity had not left him. Something was making him lucky today, and he hated it. He would feel much more comfortable in the mitts of misfortune. But he couldn’t help feeling giddy, too. Like something was rubbing circles into his back, easing, but not erasing, bits and pieces of his concerns. It was something to focus on, and a goal to achieve. Above all, that relief made him feel pathetic. 

“I was gonna ask if you wanted to go today or not, but you look more thrilled than I think I’ve ever seen you, so I’m just gonna take that as a yes.” 

He hated the way she worded that. He frowned. “Only if you’re as concerned about my identity as you seemed to be earlier. You’re welcome to take your time, I’m surely not going anywhere.” 

“You’re snarky! I never realized you had an attitude,” Ohya laughed. 

She got the car going, and they were on their way to the unit. Apparently it was quite a ways, and Ohya advised him he’d better buckle in for a long one. 

He could feel his eyelids getting heavy. He had things he wanted to think about, and questions he wanted to ask. Working up a tolerance to being active was not something that could be done in a day, but fuck if he wouldn’t try anyway. 

But, despite how he tried to fight it, Goro fell asleep. 

*****

He woke up when they were about ten minutes from the units. Ohya commented she’d thought it was a little funny that he’d been so exhausted doing just about nothing all day, but admitted too that his body was probably pretty weak, and he really should take it easy. As easy as he could, at least. 

They were both quiet for the remainder of the drive. The sun was getting low now. They were passing by suburbs between grassy fields, driving past exit by exit. He had no idea how long they’d been going for. Ohya had called herself busy, and Goro believed it, so her continual help felt unusual. People weren’t just like this, he was almost sure. 

She also knew things that felt… almost inappropriately relevant to him. The topic of the unit still tingled in the back of his mind. Why had they called her about his storage? And for that matter, why had she even known so much about him? The information she had felt intimate— like the results of a deep investigation. Had this all been yielded from that politician? 

But Ohya had a distinct air of privacy. There could’ve been something personal about her aid, but Goro figured that she wouldn’t crack easily. It might be better to leave it— personal matters tended to yield lasting effects, after all. At least, he assumed so. He really wasn’t sure if that was as big of a plus as it appeared on the surface, though. 

When the centre came into view, Goro let those thoughts ease into the back of his mind. He could focus on Ohya’s MO later. This was leaps and bounds more important to him; if anything was going to last, it was this. He could play detective, just like he was supposed to, and maybe come across some special clue. Perhaps he could test out his muscle memory and flex whatever skills he presumed he’d had. 

They arrived, and it looked extremely closed. Like the only customers they’d been expecting were ghosts. The lights in the windows were off, and the gate guarding the units was shut tight. It wasn’t encouraging. 

Ohya read his expression pretty clearly. She bumped his shoulder with her fist. “She knows we’re coming, my contact’s still here. The front just closes at 6:00. I’ll deal with it, so just stay put for now.” 

And just as she said, after she hopped out of her car and approached the office, the door swiftly opened and a woman joined Ohya outside. The two of them seemed friendly. Goro watched as they talked, noting quizzically to himself that Ohya was someone who talked with her hands. 

Ohya gestured to her car and they both looked over to Goro. He watched them walk over, and obeyed smartly when Ohya signaled him to roll down his window. 

 The woman peeked her head around to look at him, her eyebrows arched high. “Wow,” she said, completely staring now. “I mean, he looks like him, that’s for sure.” 

Ohya grinned. “Sure does. That enough for you to let us in?” She didn’t really say it as a request, more like an expectation. Goro appreciated the tone. 

She fiddled with her bottom lip. “Hmm. You said amnesia? He got any doctor's notes about that?” She asked, giving cue to Ohya’s sour expression. 

“You didn’t say a word about notes 

on the phone, you know.” 

The contact clicked her tongue, and looked back to Goro. She bit the inside of her cheek, and sighed. “Just cause it’s you, Ohya, I’ll take that nasty scar on his forehead as my confirmation.” She rubbed the back of her neck. “Come with me inside, I’ll get his key.” 

Ohya made a haughty noise of achievement, and followed the woman back in. Goro rolled up the window again. 

They were taking a little while. He rubbed at his scar absentmindedly. So obviously a bullet wound, maybe that had been the real reason his barber hadn’t made much conversation. Whoever tried to kill him had shot just where it counted. You don’t fire a warning shot into a head. He wondered if he’d deserved it, and doubted he didn’t.  

Goro removed his hand when Ohya reemerged from the building, and she was looking confident. She slid back into her car and jingled the key to his unit victoriously. “Easy peasy. She’s gonna open the gate for us in a second. Your unit number is 508.” 

They waited for a little while, nerves ever growing, until the automatic gates opened on their own, groaning and creaking until fully extended. Ohya started her car and drove in, squinting at the unit numbers in the low light.

Rows upon rows of garages awaited them. This must’ve been a pretty large lot, by the looks of things. The dirt road was the only uneven piece of scenery, the repetition was endless. He kept a watchful eye on the unit numbers, as well, skipping between the evens and the odds. 

After a few right turns, and one very tight u-turn, they were there. 508 stood wedged between its neighbors, almost at the end of the row, but not quite. Not a thing stood out about it. It was just as gray and worn and untouched as the rest of the facility. Not even the dirt was remarkable. It reminded him of the hospital. 

Ohya held the key out to Goro. 

“I’m assuming you want this to be a ‘just you’ kinda thing?” 

The gesture was something he should’ve expected, but didn’t. It made him hesitate for a moment. 

He took the key. “I appreciate it,” he said. 

“No sweat.” 

He got out of her car, and she drove off to the end of the row. She stayed parked within general sight of the unit. It was essentially pseudo privacy, but neither of them knew how long he’d be in there, and who knows what this could trigger. Ohya also didn’t seem like she knew a thing about amnesia. He wouldn’t look to her for comfort of any sort, but there was reassurance in her being a safe figure. 

He took a deep breath. In through the nose, out through the mouth. This was his step one. He’d gotten himself into some deep shit, his past self hadn’t seemed to have a shred of self preservation in mind. Had he not encountered Ohya, he could’ve been dead by the hands of the crooks that call themselves the police by now. He had a lot more steps to cover, and each one would be riskier than the next. He was much more on his own than he realistically should’ve been. Most people had friends, as far as he knew. But this was seemingly his own fault. He wanted to know why exactly it was his fault. 

One more deep breath. 

He inserted the key into the lock, and grabbed the handle of the metal shutter. He pushed up, and with a squeak of rust and a bang of metal, he opened up his door to more dangerous times. 

And it was nearly empty. 

It was barren concrete. Newly disturbed dust was floating about. It was eerily quiet, and the stale air made his throat itch. Cobwebs stuck in the corners, barely visible in the low light of the setting sun. Though he wouldn’t call it underwhelming. 

In the center of the floor was a cardboard box. About medium sized, without a lid. It matched well with the rest of the room, lined with dust and unaltered. He kneeled in front of it. 

It was its contents that felt much more exciting. There were papers, lots of them. Thick manila envelopes full of information for him to flip through. He scooted back towards the entrance and pulled the box along with, trying to get the last of the light funneling in to help him read. 

It was heavier than he expected, and he didn’t know how much to attribute that to his current lack of strength. He took out the first envelope and it, despite the dust, was clear and candid. When he flipped it around, he noticed with eagerness that there was writing on the front. He tried to make it out as clearly as he could, and in careful handwriting, it read: “05/21/2020— Case No. 1471” 

It was a case file. He pulled out another envelope, and it was similarly marked. His interest was surely piqued. There must’ve been some sort of relevance to these, if they were going to be so pointedly left here. He pulled out a third, and then a fourth, and from the weight he’d expected many more. But, the pile ended there. Instead, what filled the rest of the box was another, smaller, wooden one. 

He took it out delicately, gripping it securely around the sides to ensure he didn’t drop it. This seemed much more… personal. Shiny cherry wood, latched but not locked, just small enough to sit on his lap firmly. A thought that couldn’t help but be excited came to mind. 

This could’ve belonged to me. 

He wasted no time. He undid the latch, and it gave a satisfying click. The hinges creaked just barely as his clammy hands lifted the lid, and pulled all the way back, until it rested hanging by itself. 

Inside sat more papers. Some were crisper than others, some had obviously been crumpled and then flattened out again. But there was consistency in each of them being folded neatly in half, stacked neatly on top of each other. 

He picked up the one from the beginning of the pile, unfolded it, and was surprised to find it had hardly been written on; a simple “To you,” at the top. This was a candidate that had been clearly wadded up and discarded. He set it down carefully, and picked up the next. 

This one hadn’t been written on much, either. It said even less, just “Hello.” 

He picked up another, and another. It was all soft stationary, each topped with slightly different wordings, and some decorated with a couple lines, even. But they were all just about the same, a simple greeting, and then resigning. 

They were letters. Or rather— drafts for one. So he’d learned today that he was indecisive, maybe a bit quick tempered, but potentially also at least organized. He assumed the existence of these drafts meant he’d never gotten around to sending his letter, either. And perhaps he’d never get such a chance, if this visit didn’t convince any muggy memories to creep out of their caves.  

As he pulled out drafts and read his pathetic one-liners, he came across a page that was different. There was actually a fair amount of content on it, over a paragraph's worth. It had obviously also been cast aside, but even a spare scrap could be useful to him, in this state. He used the last of the remaining light to read it. 

“To whom it may concern, 

I would like to skip the inherent shamefulness of writing a letter to you, of all things, in my introduction, and I will title this ambiguously under the assumption that if you believe this does truly not concern you, that you will save me the mortification of reading through it anyways. 

I won’t formally phrase this as a farewell, but you should take it as one. 

Our unknowns are too great to write, and while you were not innocent, neither am I, and there are truths between the two of us that shouldn’t have remained unspoken. I’ve never thought to run from the blame. 

My hands are not clean, and maybe they never will be, but they can still carry you home when you’re ready to sleep. 

Perhaps a fact I recognized too late.

I do not want to say goodbye, however I—“

It cut off. 

The letter left a lump in Goro’s throat. He read it through once more. He wanted to analyze each sentence down to its core, but the light had died out. But there were bits and pieces, words that suck out in his mind. “Farewell,” “Innocent,” “Unspoken.”

“Too late.”

Goro bit down on his lip hard. The case files— those he understood. With the life he’d allegedly lived and the people he’d known, of course something like that would be predominant. They were fact on paper, ignorant of bias, they’d be full of names and leads. They were important. But, he didn’t understand why these almost-letters had been left here. Out of anything that could’ve been kept. Had there been someone he’d felt so strongly for? To be kept in safety behind lock and key? 

To identify this person— that could be his next goal to achieving his memories. To ignite the fire of their eventual reunion, and perhaps they could know what happened to him. They could come easy, though he suspected that anyone who he’d decided to be so rottenly open with wouldn’t be typical. But, they would also know him, past the media, past the appearances. 

And, though he wasn’t going to admit it, he’d needed something more hopeful to work towards. 

He put the papers back where they belonged, placed the entire case back into the cardboard box, and stacked the case files back atop it. 

There was no telling how old these letters were. They could’ve been from much before his incident. But this set him up for a goal, a big one, that might get him back to whatever meager place he’d left himself in. 

He picked up the box, and prepared himself to head back outside to Ohya. He needed to muster up his resolve, because this was only the first out of two very important clues this visit could provide. 

He positioned the box onto his waist, and took one last look into the dark before closing up his unit. He returned to Ohya’s car, pulling open the door without so much as a greeting, and set the box on the floor in front of his seat. 

Ohya leaned forward, interested. “That a box you got?” 

He wasn’t going to talk about the embarrassing letters he found. Even if he wanted to, his second clue came first. “It’s not that important right now,” he lied. “Is your contact still here?” 

She raised her eyebrows at him, but let the topic drop. “Sure is. She can’t leave ‘till we leave.” 

Good. “I need to speak with her.” 

She hummed in reply, seeming very curious by his idea. They drove back up to the entrance, Ohya not questioning his motives, but still giving him an inquiring side eye every so often. 

They got out of the car together this time, and walked into the front office. The woman was reading behind the counter, almost completely in the dark, with only a desk lamp lighting her work area. 

She glanced up at them, and placed her book upside down. “Hey there. You got that key?” 

“Yes,” Goro replied. He placed it lightly on the counter. She took it without a word, and got up to put it back on its hook. Goro stopped her before she turned. “I have a question for you.” 

She seemed a little surprised. She glanced between him and Ohya, and then put her free hand on her hip. “Okay?”

He hoped he could push his luck just a bit further today. He’d made it this far, after all. 

“Is there any way I can see the documentation that was filed when this unit was made?” he asked. 

The woman pursed her lips. “Ohya?” 

Ohya put her hands up defensively. “Don’t look at me. This is all him.” 

The woman stared at Goro. He stared back. This was arguably the most important part of the visit. He needed to see those papers. Just a single particular part, it was the one factor that needed an explanation. He would not leave until he got that documentation, and if he had to stand his ground and pull her leg a bit to get it, he would. 

After their staring contest lasted just a moment too long, she folded her arms. “Jeez. Only because I feel bad for you, okay?” she huffed, turning on her heel. “And because my niece liked your food blog.” 

She disappeared into the back of the office, leaving Goro feeling just a bit full of himself. He would think about the food blog comment later.

Ohya lightly punched his arm. “Okay, good going. But whatcha going to do with that?” 

“There’s something I need to check,” he replied flatly. It made Ohya grunt unenthusiastically. 

The woman returned with a few papers, all paper clipped together. She tossed them onto the counter. “This is a customer copy, okay? So feel free to keep it.” She glared at Ohya. “And, I’m going home now. So, get out, please.” 

That got a laugh out of Ohya. “I know I can always count on you to bend a couple of rules for me.” 

“Out.” 

They left the building, Ohya waving her last goodbyes while Goro rushed to the car. He needed to get some light on these papers, it was long past sundown now. He slid himself into the car, clicked on one of the lights, and went to work reading, all while Ohya was still walking over. 

Ohya opened her door and stood outside watching him, leaning on the frame. First, it was with interest, but it soon turned into irritation.

“Kid, tell me what you’re looking for. You’ve got your eyeballs all over that thing,” she said. 

He didn’t let their conversation stop him from reading. He kept his eyes glued to the page, checking each word and box before moving on. 

He did owe her an explanation. Getting his thoughts out would help him focus a bit, anyway. 

“These sorts of things— storage units. Wouldn't they be paid for recurrently?” 

Ohya went quiet for a moment. “They are,” she said, and joined him in the car. “Shit. Those funds can’t be coming from you, can they.” 

“Exactly. I’m looking for the responsible billing party.” He turned onto the next page. None of the handwriting matched what he’d seen on his papers and files, which further confirmed to him that this unit hadn’t been one he’d purchased himself. Whoever this was had put all that information in there, those cases, those letters. He suspected they weren’t his mystery recipient, but he could confirm that with them once they’d met.

Why this had been done in his name, though, was beyond him. 

He flipped onto the last page, and found his prize. Big black bolded letters asking for the responsible parties name, and neat penmanship filling in the blank. 

“Sae Niijima,” he read aloud. 

Ohya gawked. 

“‘Sae Niijima?’ Seriously?” she scoffed to herself, and sunk down further in her seat. “She’s an attorney. A damn good one, too.” 

An attorney? He wondered how she could’ve known him. “She’s the one paying, apparently.” 

Ohya tapped long slender fingers onto her steering wheel again. She dropped her head. “Guess that means she’s our next lead, huh?” 

Goro adjusted himself in his seat. “It does.” 

“Ahh, man,” she complained. “You’re really somebody who’s in with the big guns, you know. You better let me have some exclusive with you after all this is done, or something.” 

Goro gave way a hint of a smile. Probably his first since he’d woken up. If this would be the last of his luck, so be it. He hated to rely on something so shifty and mischievous, anyways. This was a start, barely a sprout, to whatever his big picture was. But he’d see himself to the very top. 

Really, he’d already died once. Hardly a way to go but up. 

“We’ll see.” 

#thank u for the aaaask!!! #this is shuake but akira is actually not in it at all whatsoever #also im so sorry i know the ending is. unsatisfying. #i just realized if i wanted the most satisfying ending possible this would go from 8k to like 32k at least #maybe once i post all these prompts on ao3 ill consider adding chapters to this cause i do like the premise #this is also like. my first published non comedic piece. so a lot of this is experimental for myself #anyway i hope you enjoy!!! #my fics #ask #anonymous #my p5 fics

[pandawritespoorly]

With Time: Chapter 38 - It’s Not Defamation If It’s True

Author’s Note: Who's ready for Gabriel getting his comeuppance?!?!?!

Settle down children, excitement and righteous fury is no excuse to forget your manners. Now get your snacks and get comfortable.

I hope you enjoy!

Chapter Summary: Gabriel underestimates the power of teenagers who care for their friend.

Edit: Whoops! I didn't check my comments in the doc! Strong language warning! "fucking"

First | Previous | Next

Marinette knows it’s spring because she wakes up easily. It’s always easier to wake up during spring, and, given her energy, it can be harder to rest.

She suspects Tikki is already up, enjoying the sun on the balcony. At the thought, the girl scrambles to get ready so she can enjoy the weather.

She’s done in record time, grabbing her phone as she joins Tikki.

 Kid Mime: good morning my faithful fair funny fast fancy festive fizzy funky friends

 Melodie: ‘Fizzy’?

 Kid Mime: i ran out of f adjectives

 Felix: You already had seven without that one.

 The Mom Friend: i think you did great

The Mom Friend 10/10 wood read again

 Kid Mime: yay!!

 Patisserie Princess: hiiiiii!!!!!!!

 Kid Mime: wats this????

Kid Mime: mari up??

 Melodie: With time to text too!

 Patisserie Princess: yep

Patisserie Princess: its spring!!!!!

 The Mom Friend: any of ur flowers blooming yet

 Patisserie Princess: not yet

Patisserie Princess: but soon. i can feel it

 Felix: That will certainly be exciting.

 Patisserie Princess: it will be!!!!!!!

Patisserie Princess: (◕ᴗ◕✿)

Patisserie Princess: k im heading out now!!!!!!!

 Kid Mime: byeeeeeeee!!!!!!

 Melodie: See you soon!

“Alright, let’s go, Tikki!” Marinette hops up from her chair, giving Tikki a moment to hide in her purse before hurrying downstairs. She shouts goodbye to her parents as she heads to school.

It’s so sunny, and she’s smiling wide. Today is a good day.

She arrives at school in what must be record time. She spots Allan and Claude walking into the building together and joins them.

“Hi!!!” Marinette chirps.

“Hey, ‘Nette. Good to see you so early,” Allan greets her.

Claude throws their arms in the air. “Marinette! Our sunshine has arrived!!”

“Adrien is our sunshine,” she corrects.

“Hmm.” Claude pretends to think this over. “This is a conundrum.”

“You’re a star,” Allan suggests.

“Yes!! Perfect!”

“You guys are stars too!!” Marinette smiles.

Claude strikes a DramaticPose™. “Well, of course I’m a star!”

Allan and Marinette clap appropriately. A few nearby students join in. Claude bows several times.

“Thank you, thank you!”

Marinette throws a flower at him. “Bravo!”

Claude gasps, clutching the flower to his chest. “The fair maiden has chosen me! I have been awarded a flower from our fair lady!”

Marinette curtsies. “‘Tis no trouble to me, my knight.”

“Shall I escort you and your companion to your court?”

“It would be very kind of you sir, I am expecting company from neighboring kingdoms.”

“Then we shall depart at once!”

With Allan and Marinette snickering, Claude leads the pair to the library where Felix and Allegra are calmly sitting at a table.

“Her royal highness, Our Star has arrived! Her meeting place is quieter than the courtyard, so we shall withhold the fanfare! Trumpets on standby!”

The librarian shoots him a grateful look, and Marinette can hear Allegra and Felix sigh in unison at Claude’s antics. Allegra shuts her book and turns. Allan and Marinette are both struggling to muffle their laughter. Claude has a flower behind his ear and leads the two to the table.

“Greetings fair lady Allegra and lord Felix of kingdoms Coudriet and Voclain! I am delighted to inform you that we have been blessed with the presence of Mademoiselle Dupain-Cheng and Monsieur Poirot!”

Allegra and Felix clap quietly.

“So what brought this on?” Felix queries.

“Marinette gave me a flower!” Claude chirps.

“You look great, Claude. Very cute.” Allegra smiles.

“Thanks! I’m gorgeous!” Claude pretends to flip his hair.

“Oh for sure,” Allan agrees. “Model material over here.”

---

The group is on their way out of school when Marinette gets a call. They slow down so she can talk and walk easier.

“Hello?”

They hear shouting on the other end.

“Well, I’m not opposed, but weren’t we-”

The person on the other end interrupts her.

“He is? Well- What do you mean he’s at school?!”

She pauses.

“Since yesterday? Excuse me, but he wasn’t also working?! Ohhh, he’s a dead man,” she growls. “Does he think-?!”

A sharp retort from the other end.

“It was rhetorical, and you didn’t let me finish.” Marinette rolls her eyes.

More talking on the other end, then the call ends.

“‘Just get over here now’” Marinette mimics, then deadpans, “Thanks for the suggestion, I was planning on touring France first.”

“What’s going on?” Claude asks.

Marinette wrinkles her nose, frowning. “That was Chloe, she says we’re doing it now.”

“Like, now? Weren’t we going to like… finalize things?” Allan asks.

“Oh heck yeah! Finally! That man is going down!” Allegra cheers.

“What happened?” Felix frowns.

Claude looks concerned. “Is Adrien okay?”

“No. He’s been crazy sick since yesterday, and Gabriel is making him go about as usual because he’s trying to get as much stuff out as he can to recover from all the backlash recently. We’re stopping by Dupont to bring him to the bakery, then we’re going to call in some favors a little earlier than anticipated.”

“I wish I could punch him. I wish I could punch him multiple times,” Allegra mutters.

---

Marinette leads them up the stairs of Dupont, and though she’s been attending a different school for the majority of the year, everyone there knows to stay out of her way with that look in her eyes.

She’s on the warpath.

At the library, she finds Chloe and Sabrina, with a very tired Adrien who is sleeping on his textbook.

He’s pale, and his face is flushed. He looks shaky and weak, and Marinette’s heart sinks at her kitty in such a state. She goes up to him, crouching beside his chair and running her fingers through his hair.

His eyes open and he squints at her through his half-open lids, his eyes glazed over.

“Hi.”

“Hey,” she whispers. “Want to go home?”

He nods, barely with her, and she runs her fingers through his hair a little more. His eyes slip closed again. She can hear her friends talking behind her, but that doesn’t matter at the moment. He’s purring, but it’s very quiet, and if she didn’t know better, she’d pass it off as just weird breathing from being so sick.

Keeping one hand in his hair, she stands and turns to her friends. “We’re taking him home now, then we can start finishing this.”

They nod, and Allan speaks up, “Who can carry him?”

Marinette just picks him up, which they all accept as an answer. She frowns. “He shouldn’t be this light.”

“Fucking Gabriel,” Allegra and Chloe mutter.

As she carries him outside, she sees Nino give her a relieved smile. He and Adrien may not hang out much anymore, but he still cares about the model.

When they arrive in the designer’s room, Marinette places him gently on the chaise, settling a blanket over him and sitting in front of him.

Chloe pulls down the sheet from Marinette’s ceiling. It’s covered in various sticky notes and lists. There’s phone numbers scattered about, with lines connecting them to other places. A checklist occupies the corner, with various things marked off, all are connected to some other part of the organized mess.

It’s impressive it all fits.

“Felix, Chloe, if either of you need to step out to speak with the lawyers, then go ahead. Sabrina-”

The other girl smiles, waving her off. “I’m already looking it over.”

“Great, thank you,” Marinette nods.

“I can call about the apartment,” Allegra volunteers.

“Good idea. Then I guess-”

Claude puts a hand on her shoulder. “Mari, it’s okay. We know what to do, you can just take care of Adrien right now.”

She sighs, smiling gratefully, and nodding, turning to Adrien. She tunes out the rest of the room, eyes only for her partner. She sees worried green eyes peering out from his overshirt, and waves at the Kwami subtly. The God simply nods at her and burrows closer to his Chosen.

Putting a hand to his forehead, she confirms that he definitely has a fever. She heads to the kitchen, finding the thermometer, and grabbing a glass of water in case he wants it.

Her room is a busy center for the various plans going on, as everyone assigns themselves tasks to complete to get as much done as quickly as they can. The noise level still manages to remain low, as everyone is aware of the model resting.

“Hey,” Marinette whispers, brushing Adrien’s hair out of his face. “Can I get your temperature quick?”

He manages a nod.

She frowns at the number displayed. “Definitely a fever.”

Adrien hums.

“I’d offer you water, but you probably just want to go back to sleep, huh?”

He slow blinks at her, and she smiles softly, returning the look and squeezing his hand quickly while he continues to sleep. She turns around, sitting against the chaise again.

Marinette gets out a laptop, typing furiously as she gets to work as well, emailing the journalists that Nadja had mentioned to her.

 Hello! You seem as though you’re a reputable reporter who can help me out! I hate to see people getting away with terrible things, and given the current state of the Agreste brand, this seems like a good time to bring this to light. Attached to this email, you’ll find…

 Greetings! I trust you’ll respect my wish to remain anonymous. I understand you specialize in exposés…

 I have attached some stories to this email that did not receive the attention they should have. I believe that this could be a good time for a journalist such as yourself to bring them back to light, so that this may receive the attention it deserves…

 I’d like to remain anonymous, but I thought you’d be interested…

 The Gabriel brand has a history of covering up less than flattering stories, but…

 The designer emails tens of reporters, all about a variety of things that Gabriel’s lawyers had gone to great lengths to keep from reaching the mainstream media. The stories range from everything to the treatment of their workers to claims of art theft, to suspicious movement of money, and more. She contacted people from all over, bloggers, to journalists to news anchors, and more than a few people outside of Paris and even France.

She emailed people mentioned in articles, encouraging them to speak out again. She went to relevant online forums and anonymously mentioned that now would be a good time for the brand’s darker secrets to come to like, if anyone was so inclined, and linked to several other news outlets that would likely take the stories.

She sent a variety of emails to big names in the fashion world, feigning hesitance to purchase from them, given their closeness to someone like Gabriel, who is currently so negatively viewed.

The best part is that all the things she’d mentioned were already true. She and her friends had spent weeks looking for the stories and the interviews that had been ignored and conveniently ‘lost’.  They were going to find even more, but even if they’re doing this early, internet sleuths will be entirely capable of finding it themselves, which will only lead to further waves.

Marinette was sure to ask for anonymity, or even encourage them to not mention her at all. She used different emails and forms of contact, using different styles of writing and, when contacting someone in a different language, she used different levels of fluency in the language. The people she contacted had little to no connections to each other, and she sent a few emails out on various delays.

Even if people suspected one person had been behind all of these reports coming out at once, they wouldn’t be able to tie it back to her, if they even thought that a group of teenagers could be responsible in the first place. Not that this is defamation.

No, that would imply that all of this is made up - and it’s all very, very true.

Gabriel doesn’t stand a chance.

---

Eventually, the others go home. Marinette had made a call to Nathalie to convince (read: threaten) her into letting Adrien have a sleepover. The woman had the nerve to argue that Adrien ‘is sick and needs to be under proper care’.

As if.

His proper care is never in the hands of Nathalie and Gabriel, no, Marinette is more than willing to take care of him.

He’d slept for most of the day. Even with everyone using her room as a headquarters for both Operation Emancipate Adrien and Operation Gabriel Takedown (it’s just more fun to have names, and it makes it feel a little less sad), he’d been dead to the world. She’s eaten dinner, so now she doesn’t really have much else to do.

Why not email some more people?

She’s in the middle of tracking down an article that could be useful when a hand reaches past her and shuts her laptop.

“Mari. Take a break.”

She turns to see a very tired Adrien awake once more, who is attempting to look reprimanding.

“I don’t need a break! I’m just-”

“Shhhhh.” He puts a finger over her mouth. “Don’t give m’ dumb dad all y’ur energy. Do something fun.”

“I’m not giving him all my energy. I’m just making sure he won’t have anything left to stand on. He’s gotten away with how he’s treated you for too long!” She argues.

“By wasting all your en’rgy on him. You guys have done plenty, don’ worry. Jus’... tell me how your garden’s doin’.”

Her face lights up at the question, and she excitedly describes to him how she has not one, not two, but three new sprouts, and how this plant is already blooming, and how that plant is doing so much better since she figured out that it wasn’t getting as much sun as she thought.

She rambles on and on, and he sinks back against the lounge, watching her happily update him on the state of one of her hobbies.

He loves seeing her smile.

He doesn’t realize he’s purring until she gives him a soft smile, just for him, that warms his heart. She starts scratching his head and continues to inform him about how different bugs are actually beneficial to gardens and different natural ways to keep unwanted bugs off plants without harming the plant or the good bugs.

He just lets her talk. His head still hurts, and he’s most certainly still sick, but this? This is nice.

Marinette notices that Adrien’s kitty kisses are beginning to give way to him struggling to keep his eyes open.

“Sleepy, Kitty?”

He hums.

“I’ll let you sleep.”

He reaches out to her slightly.

“Oh, alright. I guess.”

Feigning annoyance, she moves to sit with him on the chaise, hugging him close as he gets comfortable with the new arrangement. With a giant kitten sleeping and purring next to (and partially on) her, it isn’t long before she drifts off to sleep herself.

---

Author’s Note: So how was that? We'll be seeing it finally come to a close in chapter 40 (It's literally titled emancipation), but that focuses more on Adrien settling in to his new life.

I finished writing the last chapters last night. I'm still in shock I think, just a bit. I'll probably write a goodbye to this fic (because I'm sappy like that), then I can get started on all the events that I didn't write that I've promised to write for you guys. I know I promised Tikki and Plagg's talk after the reveal, as well as at least two or three other things, and, of course, Alya's (and Nino's) apologies to Adrien. I can't remember which events I promised, so please do let me know. (I think I have a few comments of a me listing them, so I may stalk through the comment section).

I know you all want the results to the survey, so you can find those here! (Another reminder that if you're here early, the link won't be there yet and you'll need to refresh the page 💕). I have a survey question that I really like, so after all the chapters I'll give it a one-shot all its own and, yes, it will have a survey that you guys can answer too. The next Dumb Debate will be in chapter 41, in case you were wondering. It's a fun one too.

Another thing to mention now that the story is wrapping up, I've saved scenes that I had to scrap or that went under intense rewrites so for those interested in seeing some deleted scenes, I'll post those the same day as the last chapter (which is an epilogue, and therefore shorter) to give you some extra content then.

Wow, it's weird that we're so close to the end.

Thank you all so much for reading!! Comments and kudos are my lifeblood and I cannot find enough ways to say thank you! Or if you're reading on tumblr, likes and reblogs (or asks, I never really get any) also make my day! Lovely to 'see' you guys and I hope you all have a wonderful day!

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#miraculous ladybug #with time #fanfic #gabriel salt #good friends #marinette dupain cheng #adrien agreste #quantic kids #ml felix #chloe bourgeois #sabrina raincomprix #marinette will end you if you mess with her kitty #gabriel is a terrible parent #sick #poor kitten #just wants to sleep through it

[redmelon]

hurt (t.h)

summary: y/n has some pregnancy news to tell tom when he comes back from set, but things don’t seem to go to plan when tom also has some heartbreaking news to tell y/n aswell.

angst+fluff

(this is my first time writing a fanfic about tom, and my writings a bit rusty styl, but uno, show some love 🥺❤️<3)

i felt stupid, really fucking stupid but I had no other choice, he deserved to know. also I know that I couldn’t keep this secret for to long to myself.

my hands trembled a bit as a put down my beanie down a little more so it fully covered my ears. the winter air blew threw the night sky as I stood in front of ‘his’ house. the house that was once ‘ours’.

the house that I once lived in. I never thought I would see this house again, forget coming anywhere near it. It bought back millions of happy memories.

but most of all it bought back the memory of ‘that night’. the terrible fucking night, the night he told me he wasn’t in love with me any more. I remember’d it clearly....

I smiled widely looking around the apartment, pleased with myself. I straightened out my red silk tube dress and messed with the two beautiful promise rings that tom had given me for our 2 and 3 year anniversary. my bump wasnt really showing in the dress that I was wearing, since I was only 2 months along the line, and I could get away with it as belly fat. I slowly placed my hand on it as I felt small butterflies do mini flips, exciting me even more.

however, tonight was the night, it was the night I told tom about the happy news that I’d managed to keep in while he was on set for his new film. He’d came back a week ago and was acting pretty distance from me, but I think he just needed time to figure himself out from all the hard work he had been putting in for the new movie, and I understood that.

it was currently 8pm and I was waiting for him to get back from Harrison’s house, I’d text him a couple of times and he’d left me on seen, probably meaning that he was on his way back now. I was actually kind of nervous as impatiently tapping my acrylic nails against the table. I’d set up little plain balloons around the table, and even cooked his favourite dinner but there was still no sign from tom after an hour later.

I decided to call him as I softly placed phone to my ear to hear a few rings and for it to just go to voicemail. I bit the inside of my cheek not so sure now on when he’d come home.

2 hours past and I was started to get tired of sitting in the same place and wearing the heels that tightly hugged my sore feet. but what if just forgot, he’ll probably remeber, I did send him a couple of texts telling him to be here for tonight, if not then the boys will surely remind him.

another hour passed and I felt a warm tear slide down my cheek, my heart drowned a little knowing he’d definitely forgot and he wasn’t coming home tonight, I started to unstrap the little lock of my heels with a blurred vision as a I heard a sob escape from my mouth. I felt a little anger but it all dissolved into a little heartbreak when the tears ran freely again. I wiped my face with a makeup wipe and attempted to tie my hair back when the sound of the door opening interrupted me.

toms body tired body peered through whilst he walked inside purposely avoiding eye contact with me as if he didn’t even know that I was waiting at home for him for a couple to hours now. i instantly faced away trying to wipe away the tears, as if I hadn’t been crying for ages now.

i heard him sigh and place his keys on the counter, i turned around to see his elbows leaning on the marble surface and his face in his hands as If he was quite down aswell. my eyebrows scrunched in confusion as I wiped my nose with the end of my hoodie sleeve which I just put on over my dress.

“tom” I softly spoke taking a step towards him. his hair seemed to be all over the place as he constantly ran his hand through them. he faced up, his eyes red and puffy but held a stern look on his face. My heart broke a little seeing him like this, and all of a sudden all my anger was gone towards him and I just wanted to embrace him in a hug. But something at the back of my mind told me not to.

“what’s wrong.” i slowly said before trying to reach out to him which he quickly backed away from. instantly taken back, I backed my hands away from him. “did anything happen” I calmly said trying not to suddenly scare him.

“fuck y/n nothing happened, stop it for fucks sake” he said slamming his hand on the counter, clearly frustrated. i flinched a little stepping back, not being about to say anything. his not normally like this. I don’t know what’s wrong with him.

“tom, im only asking” I said calmly, “you just seemed a little off that’s why”

his eyes instantly shot up, “well the fuck, your not my mom, just leave me be, i don’t need ur reassurance twenty fucking seven now do i”

confused at his attitude, I breathed slowly trying to process why his acting like this in the first place.

“im your girlfriend tom! I may not be ur fucking mom but im ur girlfriend, and u got to try understand that I bloody care for you, and I want to know why the fuck my boyfriends been so distant and off with me for the last 2 weeks you absolute whack ass” I burst out.

he chuckled swaying his head back at me, before speaking up, “i want some time BY MYSELF, your always acting so clingy and it fucking annoys me, like there’s a thing called personal space the fuck. and I don’t even get that. EVERYTHING IS NOT BASED AROUND U YOU KNOW”

surprised at how quickly this was escalating u scoffed. he called u fuckimg clingy. but he can’t get it into his thick head that I care about him and I want to know why his being like this.

“CLINGY? FUCKING CLINGY? are u fucking kidding me tom. do u even know the definition is. THERES A DIFFERENCE between clingy and fucking caring and you obviously don’t get that, because I fuckimg care for u” the last bit getting a bit quiet as a tear rolls down my cheek. “your unbelievable” I quietly say trying not to break into sobs. I turned around heading for the stairs not wanting to escalate this further.

“for fuck sakes” he says a bit calmer, knowing he doesn’t like seeing u cry, it breaks his heart to see you hurt. “y/n” he speaks softly coming after you. “listen baby” he calmly grabbed on to ur arm which u couldn’t resist into pushing away. “baby” he whispered, “there’s something I need to let off my chest”

confusion hit you slowly but quickly. your eyes met his as he held ur hand drawing little circled on it. you wonder what he had to tell you, you decided if you should tell him about the baby, there’s never really going to be a right time and it was good for u to let off ur shoulders for once and all.

“me too” I softly spoke looking down while tears still blurred my eyes. I wiped them away facing back up. “you can go first” I told him.

he faced away pressing his lips together, heartbreak clearly written in his eyes.

“y/n” he said, “I’ve been thinking about this for a while now and I’ve never been able to let it out, because I was scared of ur reaction”

my heart raced up as I stared at his lips not ready for what he was going to say. I gulped a rock ball that had formed at the back of my throat.

until he stared back up at me and breathed heavily, like he’d plan the whole thing out in his head, before slowly whispering, “i don’t think this is going to work...”

my heart suddenly broke and my knees felt weak as I suddenly forgot everything that was happening around me. My head felt a weird heaviness and my breathing sped up, my eyes blurred with a cloudy mist as I lost focus on what was in front of me anymore. It was like everything had stopped. he wanted to leave me.....

and since then it’s been a month, I knew the news of me being pregnant would wreck him because his not in love with me anymore, but either way he deserved to know, after all he is the father of my baby.

my hands trembling I slowly rang the doorbell, my nerves heightning by the second. several questions swarmed my mind, ‘has he moved on?, ‘has he forgotten about me,?’

i heard a familiar voice shouting, “i’ll get it,”

then the door swung open with a happy looking tom, but his smile instantly faded when he saw me. his look was replaced with a stern one. it was like fire lit arrows shooting at me, my heart broke into small pieces.

“what are you doing here,” he asked me, his hands tightening on to the side of the door.

“i needed to talk to you,” i softly replied my voice barely audible, waiting for his response.

“y/n there’s nothing to talk about,” he sighed looking away for a second, almost having a look of frustration on his face.

i looked down at my feet trying to keep my self together.

“it’s really important and I thi—“ I was suddenly interrupted by an almost angry looking tom.

“goddamit y/n, if it’s about us, and why we broke up, well I think I’ve made that clear,” he stated,

i was taken back at his response and tried really heard not the break down,

“tom,” I said softly trying to keep my tears from flowing , “It’s not about us, it’s something else to do with us involved, and i know it’s going to be hard to believe, and that it’s really confusing but I—,” this time I was Interrupted by a female voice.

“baby who is it?, you’ve been at the door for like a while minute or something,” i heard her say.

babe. So his already moved on from me. i felt my heart collapse more and tears wore themselves into the back of my eyes. I slowly placed a hand over my chest to stop the heavy breathing before it started.

I stared into his eyes with hurt, but tried not to show it.

“it’s no-one, I’ll be there in a minute,” he shouted back.

“oh okay,” she replied, as the noise of tv came back on.

he turned back to face me, “what were you saying,” he asked, a bit calmer this time, he wasn’t angry this time a bit relaxed now.

i stared at him for a while realising how happy he must be in his new relationship, I didn’t want to ruin that, not at all.

“um, you know what, it doesn’t m-matter anymore,” I said putting up a wide realistic smile trying really hard to hold back my tears.

“oh okay,” he replied unaware of the fact of how much I was hurting right now and how confused I was with what to do. I thought he out of all people would be able to notice the pain behind my eyes, of how much I’ve cried over the last one month for this new confusing chapter that is about begin of my life and most of all for him.

“bye I suppose,” he said.

“yeah,” I whispered, my voice barely audible as I turned on my heel and sped to my car and when I was there, I let it all out. I let all my emotions out. it’s amazing how so fucking depressed, sad and alone you can feel from being the happiest girl alive.

it’s just unbelievable. I had no idea what to do or who to turn to help for. my parents had disowned me because I said I wanted to be in a relationship with tom and they’d said “no, honey, believe us when we say, when he becomes this big celebrity he won’t even turn to look at you, he’ll treat you like dirt,”

I didn’t listen to them and let them disown me just so I could be with tom.

and my friends. well they slowly drifted away from me as I started to spend a load of time with tom and more oftenly started going to different countries with him for his shooting.

there was my best friend larissa but she was away on holiday with her boyfriend, so I couldn’t possibly call her and tell her what’s happened. most of my friends didn’t want to be friends with me because they were just jealous I was dating Tom.

sure I had harrison. toms bestfriend and like a big brother to me, but I didn’t want to turn to him for help because his really close with tom and would probably tell him everything.

so basically I was alone with all these problems for myself to decide. alone to raise my baby myself. but this baby could bring me happiness, happiness I need in my life.

tears constantly rolled down my cheeks, my eyes probably big, red and puffy by now.

this baby was going to grow up without a father. this is not what I had planned out for my life but it is what it is. and if this is what my life’s going to be, then so be it.

without hesitation I wiped away my tears, and started my car engine. i’m going to do this. i’ve got be strong and do this, I rode away from his house and that night I left for another town in the country. I didn’t want to stay here any longer, for it to just bring back bad memories.

I wanted to start this new chapter of my life afresh. with new friends, new neighbours, my own little family and a nice small job.

but little did I know, things never went as planned.

~to be continued, part 2 coming soon.

#tomholland #tom #holland #tomimagines #tomhollandimagines #tomhollandstories #tomstories #marvelfanfic #tomhollandfanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #peterparker #pregnancy

[clownbeep]

This is gonna be kinda brutal. But I want to put it into writing

Big vent/whats been going on

Hah... I guess this is like my life story or some shit...

Trigger warning ahead.. Depression and a bit of gore/suicide talk so if you are sensitive to that please, for your own sake and mental state you might not want to continue.

For those who dont want to hear a pretty dark vent, I understand.

And those who are just scrolling by feel free to scroll past. I just personally want to get this out.

If you have dealt with emotional neglect/abuse and need to know it isnt in your head this might be the post.

By writing this it feels like hopefully someone else will read this and realise certain things are NOT healthy.

If you are questioning if you are being emotionally neglected/abused (im speaking in a parental sense but even romantically or sexually) im not someone to give you answers, but the fact you are questioning it raises some red flags. In a healthy relationship you dont wonder those things.

Sorry for the long prelude but heres what I wanted to say

.

.

.

.

.

.

Ever since I was young, ive had bad ADHD, manic bipolar/depression, and sensory issues.

I was diagnosed around 13 I believe. My family (I didnt realise it then) always showed pity. Like I was some wild animal that couldnt be tamed and there was nothing they could do. Id do and say stupid attention seeking things just to try and get a shred of empathy.

My family didnt care.

When I was in the hospital for a suicide attempt regaurding pills and my liver had a chance of failing.. None of my family members cried over me. But a family friend. Someone not. Even. Related. Wept over me.

My family didnt care.

I cant say they never cared. They give me food water and luxuries like internet and a phone. For that I am grateful.

But in many other ways they have hurt me faar more than helped.

Once I got out of a short term stay in an inpatient mental facility I desperately needed contact with anyone who would care for me.

I have a younger sister, quite young probably around 7 at the time. She was a close friend of mine for that time. Id hang out with her so often to fill the gap in love it felt my family didnt give. One day I walked into the dining room and overheard my mother and father talking to my little sister. They told her to keep away because I wasnt "stable" because I was "dangerous" and could give her bad Ideas. And with one single action my only friend at the time and way to find happiness was taken away.

My family did not care.

When I stay in bed every day for months on end not knowing which day ill snap and end it all.... I get called lazy.

My family did not care

When I beg for medication to make me a functional human being they brush me off for years on end. Im losing my grip. I can barely remember things that have happened last week because I try so hard to forget everything its my automatic response to everything.

When I cant get to sleep because all of the memories come flooding back and im hit by wave after wave of horrific memories and the feeling if worthlessness... When I cant watch any videos or read posts about families because it brings on unwanted memories and emotions....

Is it me being dramatic then?

When you hear your family openly mocking and laughing about how stupid and dramatic and fake trans people are... How weird and unnatural and mentally insane these people are not knowing they are the very reason grsm and trans suicides are so high...

Am I a liar now? Am I insane?

When I tried to talk to them about my mental health issues. They took my only way of contact and made me feel like it was my own fault.

My family didnt care.

When I was nearly passed out shaking in a bathtub covered in wounds and blood all over... They showed pity, then lectured me for an hour for not telling them or for being impulsive and basically cleaned my wounds and sent me into my room.

My family didnt care.

Yes. I do agree, they cleaned my wounds, the physical side of showing care. However emotionally they were not there.

When my father drinks so heavilly every day he is home from work that he forgets half the things he tells you and can barely function.. They lecture my older sister for having a glass of wine (legal age)

They did not care.

My sister (23) tried for so many years to cling to what little attention she would get by getting good grades and going to college... She realised that it changed nothing about how my family felt toward her.... She snapped.

My family did not care.

She starves herself for a disease she does not have, she uses religion as an exuse to be one of the biggest christian extremists I personally know. Half the days she doesnt eat... Other days she burns book and gets rid of items for being demonic.

My lovely sister used to be kind and quite normal. However she couldnt find comfort in what little live her family gave. Starved for care she turned to religion to un unhealthy degree. Finding any way to keep her mind busy. Now I worry she will end up in the hospital for weighing so little.

My family did not care.

My oldest sister (27) Is married to a continuously cheating husband who she keeps letting back into her life. She was raised with a failing marrige and doesnt seem to see when she should call it quits.

Not to mention her husband has touched someone legally under the age of concent. Did she report him to the authorities? No.

All of these horrific things stemming from bad parenting. Unhealthy relationships and neglect.

Neglect emotionally can cause just as bad things as physical neglect. They are both horrifically dangerous in different ways.

These are the only big things I can remember... Basically age 15 and below are a complete blur to me and I cant remember much of it without thinking for a looong time. Even then I cant remember a lot of it... I feel like ive lost my whole damn childhood. And it hurts more than if they had just hit me or physically harmed me.

Im not underplaying physically harm. But in my personaly opinion I would rather my family have beaten me badly because at least then id have an easier way to prove to people how severe the abuse was. You can see bruises and confirm broken bones... But years of feeling completely useless and being shut off from most of the world other than the internet... It fucks you up in a way I dont think can be healed.

I dont know if I can ever love myself or... Remember things. Its terrifying to think Ill post this and a few weeks later probably not even rememner unless its brought up. Or meeting people and having conversations... And they are just... Gone.

Gone.

I suppose the biggest reason im writing this is well... In the future I dont want to forget in some ways.. I want like to be 100× as awesome knowing itll start as soon as im out of here..

If I dont have anything to compare it too then what is the point?

Ive layed out basically most of what I remember

A large amount of time I look around and nothing registers... Everything is familiar but I cant remember anything for a moment or two.. I feel like my memory is slipping so fast and im terrified.. I cant do anything to stop it and I cant make my mood be stable without the medication my family cant be bothered to get ...

I suppose this is a bit of a vent. I know its kind of everywhere and unorganized..

If im honest.. Tumblr is the only place where people have given me a home I wish I had..

I came out as trans here... Everyone was so damn supportive.. I didnt say anything but I cried hard and the kindness.. It was amazing.. It was such a jarring difference to how I feel when I say anything in real life.

Ive met friends here and ive had some much fun here. If youve stuck around this far thank you so much.. If you didnt I dont blame you.

I just wanted to share what has been flashing in my head these past few days.. It hurts a lot and ive even considered suicide recently..

Im trying hard. As hard as I can.. I have no escape though.

I cannot leave home. I cannot escape. Im not being dramatic.

I

CANT

LEAVE

And its terrifying because I know without medication or at least being somewhere AWAY from family.... I feel like im going to break soon.

I dont want to do anything stupid.. But some days I cant think straight and do things that harm myself and its not good. Its not okay. Im aware that I need help but I have no idea where to go/turn.. I have no ID or drivers liscence.. I have no transportation to and from a job to get money so I can leave... I live in the middle of nowhere.... I just..

I dont want to lose touch. I dont want to do anything bad.. I want to be functional.. I want to do more than eat and sleep my life away because I have nothing else to do..

Im so damn sick and tired of this all.. And at times I really do feel like there is only one way out.

Its always there and I just feel like one of these days im gonna be pushed over the edge and not be thinking clearly enough to stop it.

Im thinking semi clearly right now which is my im posting this.. Because im afraid and alone.

I have nowhere to go irl I have no friends Irl i just have tumblr and media and thats it. I dont expect anyone to be able to help I just wanted to write this so anyone knows what happens if I leave media..

If I tell my family my issues they will blow me off again for the 11th time or so (not exaggerated)

And if I do something to get sent to the hospital and get the help I need the cycle will continue with them being pissed and me getting sent home in a month or less anly for my family relationships to get worse..

Im spiraling fuether and further and I cant keep up the facade of being fine. I need help. And i have no way to get it. Ive just been suffering for years...

Sitting around and doing nothing but using your phone or drawing or whatever sound fun in theory... But if thats all youve been able to do for years with little to no real life social contact its gonna mess with your head... I dont want to be a shut in... I just

I dont know what to do.

Im sorry for rambling. I will most likely delete this later feeling embarrassed I posted this...

Im just tired..

#trigger warning #triggering #may be triggering #vent #emotional neglect #emotional abuse #suicide #suicide trigger #gore warning #memory problems #ramble #rambles

[alicezan-ncgred]

Bleeding Red

Preface: I’ve been bitching around the bush of this long enough. So, I’ve been really silent on a bunch of stuff that’s been eating me alive which has made me both inactive and unproductive. I’m going to get straight to the point, starting off with the TL:DR from my post on my main blog. Context: An anon asked me if I was alright because I hadn’t updated in a while.

TL:DR You probably didn’t ask this to hear about all the bad shit of my life so here’s the short of it. No, I’m not doing fine. I will try get next weeks post out on time and I’ll work on making up on the lost posts. Updates will return regularly, ‘ite.

Time for the thick and thin of it.

Insecurity and being shafted: I’m stoic, even at my worst I won’t say anything. I’ll push through regardless of my current condition and since I’ve gone years like this, it’s not hard for me to do. In my real life situation, I’m currently in a place of social isolation. This has lead to a somewhat near reliance on Tumblr to be my social outlet. This present many issues.

The main one is that I’m quite the isolationist. This has only been reinforced by many interactions throughout the entirely of my life. Because of this, I can’t say I’ve ever had anything really more than two friends at a time. While in a way this has helped me express myself so well through writing, it’s come at the cost of social skill. I don’t talk to anyone.

With this kind of issue you could easily imagine that the THREE PEOPLE (four now, but very limited) to ever directly talk ended up in a way shafting me. The first blocked and disconnected with me without warning or reason. At this point we’ve been talking to each for about a month and we hit it off very well and then one day, silence. Never heard from them again. That fucked me up hard when I finally realized what happened.

The second person left during the Tumblr P**n Purge. We were talking about how to contact each other on other platforms and then they stopped responding. I had already given contact to other platforms of which they pinged me in any way. Another person that I trusted massively on here just abandoned me and I’m still hurting from that. Wasn’t fair at all.

Then the third person was someone that I been following for a while. This person is actually the reason that I’ve been putting this off for so long. I don’t want them to see this post but they will. I got an ask from them that ultimately turned out to be misinformation. I said I wasn’t mad but I was. I was so fucking angry about it and I’m still kinda mad, but I didn’t want problems. I still don’t. I just didn’t want them to worry about it. This will come back later.

I try my best to be as inoffensive as possible. The problem with that is that much of the things I believe or enjoy are highly divisive. Hell, even my own identity can be seen as offence. I’m bisexual, non-binary (I’m currently still questioning this. I might actually be gender fluid but in the overall scheme, that’s worse than being non-binary), and nonreligious. I’m in a very religious area so you I’m still “in the closet” about much of this IRL. I though it would better online but with how much people are saying bisexuality doesn’t exist, or that non-binary isn’t a valid gender (or that being gender fluid make you insane and you should be locked up) and all the hate people who say they are this are getting, the very community that’s supposed to accept me, HATES me. I had a bi pride flag icon last year during Pride Month. I never doing that ever again. It was terrible.

I’m trying my best to come out of my shell like I said I would when I made this blog but it seems I’m just crawling further into it. People I think I can trust keep setting me up to fall, people I know in real life won’t ever accept my existence if they knew who I really was, and my own mental health problem and self loathing are eating me alive. But that isn’t the total of it.

Crumbling Pillar: I’ve always ended up in the position where things were thrown onto me. In which no one wanted to do, I was stuck with. Because of this not only do I have a severe distaste being around my family (beyond everything mentioned before hand) but I grew to have a negative out look on everything. This effect is still quite obvious in my writings, especially my poems. Out of the 14 poems on my poem blog @washed-soul​, only one has a happy meaning.

The one happy poem was called dreams. Under a metaphor it talks about how a demon kept me trapped in a dark space. I start to get better and nearly break free before I have a negative relapse back to my old ways. The poems ends with the demon putting a end to itself leaving the nightmare in which it was keeping me in to slowly fade away, letting one crack of light peeking through to become a window to a door until one day I walk free. When writing this poem, I never thought I would find myself rebuilding the nightmare but that’s where I am.

I’m done with holding things together that other people have placed onto me. Because of this, issues have began showing in my private life. Issues that should’ve been solved decades ago are only now being addressed. This change in the status quo of my life has caused many issues in my productive and mood. Between everything else I’m too tired to do anything.

Is that a reason, is that an excuse. No it isn’t but it’s the best thing I got as a reason. I’m doing my damnedest to do the best I can but of course, when it comes to the thing that matter I just fall short. Big fucking whopha my intelligence and capability does me if I can’t use it for anything that means a damn.

Meaningless Triviality: I’m a very emotional person. I’m very strongly bound to my emotions and if everything above hasn’t given it away, my emotions are very negative prone. But it just doesn’t stop there, it goes back into my memories. I can only honestly place 3 happy memories for certain that aren’t either A) a dream or B) me escaping reality through my mind. Besides that, almost all my memories are negative. 

People like to throw around the word Nihilist to describe themselves because today's culture is very, god while I hate to use this word, edgy. For those who don’t know a Nihilist is someone who views the world as being completely  meaningless and reject all religious and moral principles. I very truly struggle with this outlook of life. It’s a daily for me to berate myself saying “just kill yourself” or “I want to die” or just shutting down and crumpling up while say “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry” over and over again. Hell, I did that while writing this. 

I take things very hard, even the slightest transgression. I’m so used to trying to make things perfect and because people have the image that I’m the smart one, the mature one, the capable one, I’m left with the over hanging expectation of excellence. Almost no room for margin of error or being human. Since I’m the silent type, I put up no challenge and work to meet it. Only time I get any praise for anything too. 

I guess as a little self promotion to my main blog, for those that have read the very first few updates of my main blog @the-truth-behind-redacted, or read Defiance’s character sheet, while The Machine and Defiance are separate character, they both share the name Machine. That in part is a reflect of said above expectation. How ravenous and inhuman it can be all under the guise of something human. Those characters are the two sides to the same coin. 

Remember how I said I try to be un-problematical and how I try to avoid any potential conflict. In the first segment I told on how I lied about my feelings just so another person didn’t have to worry over something that honestly, in hindsight, wasn’t even really a big deal. But I also said how it consumed me in anger. I just don’t want to bother anyone over anything. It’s part of the reason why I am writing this post, as some way of a self enforced rehab program to get better. 

This absolute consumption of negative emotion has pushed me into a non human state before. I hit a point of absolute mental exhaustion and in such a self enforced bubble of actual hatred I became completely apathetic. I felt numb to everything. I watched and heard of terrible things happening to people, and felt nothing. I watched people lives crumble before them leaving them nowhere to go and LAUGHED. “Just another worthless pathetic worm on this rotting carcass of a planet being hit with the hard reality that life doesn’t care for them. What whimsical pathetic bullshit they deluded themselves with to think otherwise.” This isn’t an exaggeration on how I thought, this is what I actually thought. Which brings me too.

The Mandatory Sob Story: Roll your eyes everyone and get the tiny violin. I guess in order for everyone to exactly understand the place I’m coming from when it comes to mental health I’ll have to detail my experiences. I have a long standing history with mental illness. I have professionally diagnosed OCD, Bipolarism, Anxiety, Chronic Depression, and visual and auditory hallucinations. I take 600 mg of Seroquel a day as well as Amitriptyline when needed. I’m also still currently in therapy to deal with said OCD, Bipolarism, Anxiety, Chronic Depression, the visual and auditory hallucinations, as well as Suicidal thoughts, and my Nihilism. There’s a reason to why I’m so god damn familiar with mental illness and treatment plans.  

OCD and Bipolarism run in my family on my fathers side. My Father’s Father had them, my Sister has them, my brother most likely has them (however he refuses to see a doctor because he uses said possible mental illnesses as a get out of jail free card. He doesn’t want to be treated and he has FUCKING ADMITTED IT), my father has them, and I have them. I, however, have the misfortune of having it real bad. I said yes to well over half of all the total symptoms when I was being tested (I don’t remember exact numbers but I remember there being three pages worth of common symptoms) which was very worrying to the doctor. I was currently in an inpatient hospitalization program at the time for both suicidal thoughts and actions, and severe depression. 

On that, my graze in with suicide. Before I went into my first inpatient program I was contemplating suicide. I was sat in front of a mirror with a bottle of over the counter medication. It was an unopened bottle of ibuprofen, 1000 200mg tables. What I planed to do was down the whole bottle with benadryl and die in my sleep. I had the small box of benadryl got from the Kroger pharmacy and a hand full of ibuprofen poured out looking directly into the mirror. My suicide note was sitting on the desk on my room with an online copy on my laptop open.

I sat there for an hour in the dead of midnight complicating my life. I had lost all hope in the world, filled with hatred, anger, pain, and despair. I had no god or after life to look forward too, part way hoping that a Hell existed for me to burn in. I hated myself that much. I was close to taking the first handful before before I caught a glimpse of my own eyes in the mirror. In what was in a weird sudden epiphany I realized that I truly did become what I hated but not for any reason I told myself. I became the very bastion of negativity I sought to fight and rid of in what little friends I did have. That was what set off my path to recovery in spite of the medical system. I guess if people care I’ll make a separate post on that. 

Before I move on, I feel I should explain my history with the visual and auditory hallucinations. It should be no surprise that with everything else above, I also had extreme paranoia that led to me having very bad insomnia. Insomnia is, just like most other medical disorders like Depression, Self-harm, Anxiety, OCD,  Bipolarism, is romanticized to hell. Insomnia isn’t having one nights bad sleep where you got 5 hours of sleep instead of 8.

You know what Insomnia is? insomnia is being physical incapable of sleeping despite not sleeping in 2 to 3 day while your body suffers massive agony brought on by this. Muscle spasms and seizing, difficulty breathing, your eyes feeling like fire ants are eating them, and of course visual and auditory hallucinations. Now I already had issues with visual and auditory hallucinations even when I could get sleep regularly but the combined effects of my OCD and Bipolarism made this perfect condition of Insomnia, Anxiety, Paranoia, with the already added in disposition to hallucinations and I felt like I was actually losing my mind. 

My hallucinations presented themselves in three forms. Disassociation of reality, night terrors, or alterations of reality. Disassociation of reality often were complete black out moments. I would lose any perceived connect to reality and enter an episode of my mind. I can’t remember what they actually were but I do remember what it felt like. Cold sweats, anxiety to point where if I didn’t lock up I would vomit, actual physical pain, mind numbing fear, and intense fatigue. 

The second were night terrors often in the form of horrific “things.” I do remember these and most of them were as best as I could describe, forms of things that were vaguely human and formations of industrial machinery. The most vivid one I remember was of a long lengthy apparition that was for the most part human but many locations of it’s impossible physiology were rebar beams and mechanical sockets. It began when I was about to fall asleep and it was next to my window. The thing was making week groaning and gasping sounds before it violently slammed against my window breaking it then letting out a horrific howl that I can’t describe as it tossed itself out followed shorty after with the sound of bones breaking against the dirt. 

Now that might not seem so bad, exspecally with everything that is in horror movies or games now, but keep in mind that was fucking real to me. It was as real as the clicking of the keys of my keyboard as I’m writing this. As real as the chair I’m sitting in and as real as the wall in front of me. As far as my mind was concerned that thing, what ever it was, actually existed. It took me physical touching my window to make sure it wasn’t actually broken and checking outside to see if there wasn’t a body there. This isn’t the type of thing I talk about lightly. 

Finally there is the alteration of reality. This is very simply but it’s something that fucked with me hard. For very little meaning or warning, I would have trouble interpreting the world around me. My hearing and sight would be warped and there wasn’t any real way to tell what I was hearing or seeing was real or not until the episode was over. The way I got through these was the ultimate fake it till you make it. Obviously, very often I failed and this created issue in my schooling. 

Ending Message: I’ve been in a very bad state for a while now and as it is now, no signs of getting better. I also strongly believe my medications are being to fail me which I’ve been telling my doctor and therapist for over a year now but nothing’s been done. Mainly it’s my Depression but insomnia episodes are beginning and my own paranoia been on the rise. It’s gotten to the point where I can’t even look at a creepy image or thumbnail without having a very bad episode. 

I’ve managed to eat something today which was nice but my body is cramping hard. And to possible stave of a possible comment, I’m biologically male. Like I said I’m not in the best head space, or living for that matter. If this gets better, only time will tell. 

#Long post #tw: suicide #TW: Depression #Trigger Warning #TW #OCD #Anxiety #Chronic Depression #Bipolar Disorder #Bipolar #Mental Health #My mental health

[papikakashikahn]

Mark Tuan/ 21 Questions AU/ Request

Lol, holy shit @freechittaphon I really hope I didn’t make you wait that long for this. 😅 Anyways though, I hope you like this one, it’s like around 4,000 words!!! (Just so you know, this is in 3rd person, so instead of just switching from you and Marks P.O.V it’s both... it’ll make sense when you read it. And to anyone reading this just now: Basically I have a list of 27 lyrics from several GOT7 songs. You can chose one or two, as well as a Member you’d like the request to be with, and dm me 😊. To read the forum click here! ANYWAYS! Hope you enjoy !!!

His throat was dry at the thought of calling you. It was late at night, and there was a small chance of you even picking up. But even that sliver of a chance could be the remedy to his headache.

His thumb wavered over your contact.

What would you think if you had woke up the next morning to see his missed call at this time at night? What would you think it meant? If you didn’t pick up should he leave a voicemail? What would he say anyways?

Impulsively, he hit the call button. He wanted to kick himself for making such a sudden decision. Mark sighed, leaning back in the chair knowing it was too late to hang up now.

Cringing at his own loss of dignity, he drank from his glass of whiskey, waiting for you to answer the phone.

Nights like these were too long without hearing a voice you missed, but hearing the dial tone of said person not picking up, was even worse.

His eyes flickered back to his phone at the thought. The phone had rung several times, and he assumed you were probably asleep at this hour.

But what if calling you was waking you up from your sleep?

This sudden thought caused Mark to almost lunge at his phone to hang up. But just before he hit the red ‘end call’ button, your tired voice rang throughout his ears.

“Mark?” you groaned.

-

Thousands of people could be found in Seoul sleeping at this hour, including you… that was… until your phone wrang from under your pillow.

You tossed and turned with a groan.

Was it time for work already?

You swear you had just laid your head down.

Not being able to tolerate the annoying ringing coming from right under from your head, you pulled yourself onto your elbows and digged under the pillows in search of your phone.

Your bleary eye sight could barely read over the text on your phone. After blinking a few times, you read his contact name. He was calling you.

Widening your eyes, you answered automatically.

“Mark?” you groaned, confused as to why he was calling you at this time at night.

You heard silence over the line, as if no one was there at all. Had you answered too late?

You pulled the phone away from you to look at the screen.

Nope. he was definitely still on the line.

Mark sat in his chair on the balcony frozen at hearing your voice at this time in the night. It was like music to his ears.

“Mark?” you questioned again.

“H-hi.” he finally answered. The corners of your lips turned up naturally at the sound of his voice as well.

“What’s going on, it’s 2 o’clock in the morning?” you rasped, rubbing your eyes.

“Nothing… I- did I wake you up?” he asked concerned.

You yawned at the mention of sleep.

“Yea, but-” “Oh, I-Im so sorry. I-I’ll leave you alone now- Goodnight-” he stammered. Your heart almost stopped when realizing he was going to hang up.

“WAIT!” you exclaimed in a sudden panic, sitting on your knees now.

You ran your hand through your hair, giving out a sigh.

“Are you still there?” you questioned.

He swallowed his saliva to clear his dry throat. You could say he wasn’t himself at the moment…. But then again was anyone themselves at this time at night?

“Yea…” his responded after a moment.

You crawled out of bed, and slipped on your fluffy slides as you made your way to the kitchen.

“What’s going on? Are you okay?” you asked him. His voice was shaky, and it caused you to become concerned.

“I am now.” he cooed. You rolled your eyes at his sudden change of tone.

“And why is that?” you asked him, running your tea kettle under the tap before placing it on the stove.

“I couldn’t sleep.” he sighed, staring down at the glass in his hands.

“I see that.” you smirked, leaning on the counter behind you.

He scoffed at your sarcasm.

“Where are you right now?” you asked him.

He leaned back in his seat, staring at the night sky.

“I’m sitting on the hotel balcony. It’s nice out here.” he told you in a dreamy voice. You smiled to yourself.

“How’s Tokyo?” you asked him curiously. 

Currently, Mark was performing with the rest of his members in Japan. You had never been to Japan, but you had always wanted to.

“Pretty.” he responded simply. Over the phone you could hear the sounds of the city there.

“Are you having fun?” you asked him.

“Yea. The fans are nice. We went sightseeing yesterday.” he told you while rubbing his temples.

“Psh. Well jeesh mark you don’t have to rub about it.” you joked, tracing your fingers on the granite counter beside you.

“Sorry Y/N, maybe i’ll bring you back a snow globe or something.” he smirked. You rolled your eyes yet again at him.

“Fuck you Mark. You should just bring me along next time!” you snipped at him, shaking your head.

“Awwwww, are you saying that because you miss me?” he asked you over the line in a baby voice.

“Shut up.” you mumbled.

He smirked to himself, glad to hear you at least were acting like yourself at this time at night.

Finally, the teapot made a high pitched sound that told you your water was done brewing.

“What is that? It’s really annoying… are you making tea?” he asked you.

You sighed, pouring the steaming hot water into a mug.

“You’re really annoying. And yes, it is.” you informed him, grabbing a tea bag.

“Excuse me?” he sassed. You smiled to yourself, grabbing the creamer from the fridge.

“Nothing, anyways, you should make yourself some tea so we’ll both be drinking tea at the same time, in two different countries!” you exclaimed excitedly.

“Uhhhh…” he zoned out, becoming silent over the line.

You opened the sliding door to your balcony as well. “What?” you questioned him confused.

“Nothing. I just already have a drink.” he stated innocently, staring at the glass of whiskey in his hands. Well… an empty glass that is.

You narrowed your eyes as you shut the door behind you.

“What is it… Mark?” you asked, placing your mug down on the small coffee table outside.

“It’s nothing…” he repeated.

You shook your head, sitting down in the chair beside the table.

“It’s alcohol isn’t it Mark? That’s what you’re drinking?”

“Are we on facetime???” he asked confused, taking his phone away from his ear to check. You grabbed your mug and sipped your tea, shaking your head still.

“Of course.” you groaned looking up at the sky. “Mark you shouldn’t drink when you’re working… especially when you can’t sleep.” you nagged him in a motherly tone.

“I know, I know.” he sighed to you. He leaned his head back in his seat. His headache had gone away since he had called you, but it was resurfacing when you talking to him like that.

You placed the cup back down on the table, and then proceeded to snuggle up in your chair. The night air was warm, with a cool breeze blowing from time to time. On summer nights like these, you often thought about people you missed. And although that person was on the phone with you, you still couldn't help wanting him to be with you.

“Are you on your deck too?” Mark asked. “Yea… how did you know?” you questioned in response.

“I can hear the city.” he responded. You nodded as if he could see you.

You were growing tired again, almost so tired you wondered if you could just fall asleep right then and there.

“I guess you can say were under the same sky huh?” you smirked, closing your eyes tiredly.

“Mhmm”. Mark responded simply. He looked up at the sky from his seat at your comment. It was hard to wrap his mind around the idea of you being a hundred miles away, staring at the same thing he was. The moon’s brightness was making his eyes hurt. He covered his eyes, and sighed.

“Mark, why can’t you go to sleep?” you asked curiously.

He raised his eyebrows at your question.

“Well I don’t know Y/N... I guess I just have a lot on my mind.” he confessed to you.

Your eyes blinked open at his words.  You didn’t want to ask what it was that was on his minded, considering just being on the phone with him seemed to help.

“Let’s play a game.” Mark stated over the phone.

“...What?” you asked, thinking you misheard him.

“Let’s play a game Y/N.” he repeated, smirking up at the sky.

You sat up from your seat a little.

“What kind of game may I ask?” you questioned.

“How about 21 questions?” he suggested with a sly look on his face.

You bit your lip thinking about it as you laid back down in your chair.

“I guess. But I don’t really see the point in doing this though. Don’t you know everything about me Mark? You’re practically my diary by now.” you laughed gently.

You and Mark had been friends for 4 years now, so you would definitely say this type of game was random, if not pointless...

“I know everything about you Y/N… but do you know everything about me?” he asked you.

You furrowed your eyebrows together.

“Obviously dumbass, you’re my best friend.” you stated.

“Such confidence. Let’s test that statement.” he responded slyly. You could tell he was smirking, just by his tone.

“Fine.” you confirmed.

You reached for your tea, and stirred your spoon around in it.

“Alright. I’ll start.” he began, clearing his throat over the phone. You had to pull your phone away from your ear at how loud it was.

“One. Am I a cat person or a dog person?” he asked you. You couldn’t help but snort at how easy of a question it was.

“Obviously dog, my god Mark, is this what all the questions are gonna be like? You must have a lot of time on your hands.” you shook your head.

“Well we’re just getting started Y/N.” he told you mischievously. “Anyways, it’s your turn.” he informed you. You rolled sighed in response.

“Okay. Two. Pepsi or Coke?” you countered.

“Y/N, I thought you didn’t like simple questions like this.” he complained.

You couldn’t help but smile to yourself as you were stirring your tea.

“Well like you said Mark, we’re just getting started.”

He let a light laugh slip before taking a drink of whatever was left from his glass.

“Well… for promotional purposes… and also because of what my contract says… Pepsi!” he smirked, swishing the ice around the glass playfully.

“How about you Y/N?” he questioned.

You paused stirring your tea for a moment. “Is this your number three?” you asked him.

“Sure… I have 18 questions left.” he responded.

You shook your head at his carefree attitude.

“I like Coke for your information.” you told him.

“Huh, well i guess we have differing interests… goodbye Y/N.”

“Wait what? Mark...?” you asked. You pulled your phone away to see if he was still on the call. Apparently he was.

You put your phone back to your ear annoyed. “Mark.” you said waiting for a response, but the line was silent.

You gritted your teeth. “Excuse me...” you began.

“Looks like I got you into the the game Y/N.” he snorted.

You had to admit, sometimes Mark was really annoying… but then again that’s what you loved about him.

“I guess you just like talking about yourself.” he snickered over the line.

You gritted your teeth at his sentences.

“Mark, If you weren't in Japan right now I’d be choking you.” you grumbled, gripping the handle of the spoon tightly.

“Kinky.” he purred. You froze for a second before proceeding to sip your tea, brushing it off.

“Someone’s horny.” you snickered, morely to yourself.

He somewhat froze at your comment. Well, that was possible. After all, alcohol had many effects on the human body.

“NO I’M NOT! I’m a good boy!” he whined. The adjectives he used to describe himself made you laugh.

“Good boys don’t get drunk.” you scoffed. You heard him choke over the line.

“How much of a light weight do you think I am!!?!? My god Y/N! I’m not drunk!” he exclaimed defensively as he sat up in his seat, slamming the glass on the table.

You rolled your eyes at him. “Alright Mark, whatever helps you sleep at night.” you told him, smirking at your pun.

“Can we just get on with the next question?” you sighed.

“Sure, whose turn was it?” he asked you.

After taking another sip from your tea you responded.

“Your’s Tuan.” you groaned at his lack of memory.

“Right...four! What do you think keeps me up at night?” he asked you nonchalantly. Your eyebrows creased at his sudden seriousness.

“Uh...well jeez I don’t know Mark, that’s kind of a depressing question.” you answered, rubbing the back of your neck sheepishly.

“No it’s not, just answer it. Give a random guess!” he cheered.

You sighed, twirling your spoon around in your nearly empty mug.

“Your career?” you guessed, waiting for his answer.

“I’ll tell you the answers once we reach 21.” you could almost hear the smirk on his face, (which there was).

“My turn. Five. Do you day dream often?” you asked him. “Of course.” he uttered.

“About what?” you asked impulsively.

“Tsk Tsk Y/N. Six. What do you think I daydream about?” he asked you, with something hidden in his voice. You didn’t know exactly what it was, but it sounded mischievous.

You pouted.

“Mark this isn’t fair! You knew that was my next question! Now i’m not going to find out until 21!” you groaned in frustration.

He couldn’t help but snicker at your desperation.

“Well...Guess!” he chimed. You rolled your eyes at his excitement as you placed your mug back on the coffee table.

“I don’t know, Jackson working out.” you joked.

He sighed in disappointment at your answer.  No, but that was probably what Jackson day dreamed about.

He hadn’t said anything after a moment of silence.

“...Well was I right? You’re being really quiet...” you observed.

“You’ll find out when we hit 21. Next!” he spat.

“Seven. What are you doing right now?” you asked him.

“Well that’s a boring question Y/N.” he retorted. 

You snorted at his comment. “I’m sorry, am I boring you Mark?” you asked sarcastically.

“Not at all gorgeous.” he responded, tracing his finger around the rim of the glass.

A smile tugged at your lips.

Mark said things like this all the time to you, but you had never paid any mind to  it. You just considered it a ‘Mark thing’ to throw in little compliments like that. To anyone else they might have considered flirtatious, but you knew Mark didn’t feel that way about you.

As for the way you felt about him…

“Eight. What was my last dream about?” he asked you. 

“MARK! This isn’t fun if all the question revolve around you, and I don’t even get an answer until the end!” you whimpered.

“Don’t you have patience?” he asked.

“HA! I’M COUNTING THAT AS YOU’RE NINTH QUESTION! I GET TO ASK TWO IN A ROW NOW!!!” you shouted energetically. He rolled his eyes at your excitement and childish ways.

This game was turning out to be more fun than you expected. Mark remained silent for a moment before answering your question. You heard him sigh fianally. Without putting up a fight, he let you ask your question. Mark always let you have your way anyways.

“...And for your information, no, I don’t have patience… at least not with you.” you relented.

His eyes flickered up when hearing your little comment.

“Now then, ten! Where are the other members right now?” you asked, settling back on the couch.

“They’re asleep Y/N.” he informed you dryly. You raised your eyebrow at this.

“Oh right, it’s 2:00 in the morning!” you remembered.

“Almost 3 now actually.” he told you.

“Huh...” you muttered to yourself.

“I guess I just make time fly!” he claimed with a sneer.

“...I miss you.” you admitted subconsciously.

He tensed automatically.

There was silence on the other line. You widened your eyes, realizing you had just said that aloud. Was that ... weird? Did you just make things awkward?

“I miss you too.” he finally spoke. Your smile grew larger at his words.

“When will you be back?” you asked him, your tone giving away your desperation.

He smiled at it though nonetheless. It was cute hearing you missing him. “Soon.” he answered you.

You groaned, playing with the handle of spoon while laying your head on your arm. “Not soon enough.” you muttered just loud enough for him to hear it over the phone.

He smiled at your tone.

“But like you said, we’re under the same sky… right?” he asked you, in an attempt to make you feel better. His voice grew soft towards the end of his sentence.

“You know what I’ve always wondered?” you asked him, staring up at the moon.

“What?” he asked you.

“How come you can stare at the moon without going blind, but not the sun?” you asked. “...Does that mean the sun is ugly?” you questioned in a delirious state.

Mark noticed this, making him furrow his eyebrows together.

“Uhh… Y/N? Are you sure you’re not the drunk one here?” he laughed at you.

You just let out a grunt, as you curled up in the chair.

There was a silence between the two of you. He stared at the moon at the thought of you, but it seemed just as bright as the last time he looked at it.

“Y/N...can I skip to 21?” he asked hesitantly, his hands shaking while tracing the edges of the glass.

“I didn’t even know we were still playing.” you laughed lightly, almost falling asleep while holding the phone to your ear.

“Baby I like you. Do you like me too?” he questioned.

Your eyes snapped opened automatically.

“Huh???” you asked, wondering if you had misheard him again, or if that was just in your imagination.

“I know you heard me Y/N, please don’t make me say it again. This isn’t 22 questions Y/N.” he groaned. You felt paralyzed.

Was this another of his jokes? Was he playing this time? He swore he sounded so serious...

“Y-You like me…?” you stammered in a voice just above a whisper.

There was a silence over the phone, it was so hard for you not to see his facial expression.

“Wasn’t it obvious? All the answers to my questions... were you.” he confessed.

You couldn’t even feel your heart beating in your chest anymore. In fact, you think you forgot how to breathe.

“I can’t sleep because I got YOU on my mind...” he began, looking to the concrete of the balcony. “I day dream about YOU often… hell I even dream about you when I’m not awake.” he laughed.

You choked up at his words again.

“I like you.” he repeated.

Your hands were shaking holding the phone as you stared into space.

“Mark… when you say things like this I can’t tell if you’re being serious.” you cautioned, your voice uneasy.

“Are you saying that because you don’t like me back…?” he question, his voice giving away his vulnerability.

You screwed your eyes tight. You didn’t want Mark to ever think that considering it simply wasn’t true. But you didn’t know if you had the guts to tell him that yourself.

“If you’re joking and I say it... I could never look you at you the same way again…” you explained.

He couldn’t ever look at the sky the same way either if you turned him down.

“Funny how I’ve liked you for 3 years now, and I’ve told myself that exact same thing everyday.” he expressed, closing his eyes before they had a chance to start watering.

Your eyes began to water too. You knew exactly what he was talking about. You went through it for three years as well.

“But why now? Over the phone?” you fretted.

You heard Mark inhale staggeringly. “I know you probably don’t have the words… or even know how to respond to this... but I just had to tell you how I've felt about you. I just couldn’t hold it back anymore after hearing your voice in so long. All day, every day, it’s you. All I think about is you. Being alone with my thoughts isn’t doing me any good… I don’t know… what I’m doing anymore-”

“I like you too.” you cried, interrupting Mark. You let out a laugh thinking about it. “...It’s just funny how much time we’ve wasted just being friends.” you sniffled.

The silence presented to you over the line was unbearable.

“Being your best friend has never been a waste of time Y/N.” Mark consulted you. It made your lips twitch upwards into a smile.

“I still wish you told me in person though Mark.” you smiled, tracing your finger over the seat handle.

“And why’s that gorgeous?” he asked.

“So I could kiss you right now.” you responded.

You heard him clear his throat.

“If you keep on saying things like that Y/N, I’d just might have to board a flight home.” he smirked, rubbing his eyes tiredly.

You smiled furthermore at his comment.

“Please do.” you whispered, staring up at the sky, as did he on the other line.

“When I get home baby girl…” he groaned leaning forward, holding his head in his hands.

“... Please just be patient until I get home.”

#mark tuan #mark fanfic #mark fanfiction #got7 mark #mark got7 #mark tuan scenerios #jaebum #jaebum fanfiction #jaebum scenarios #jaebum fanfic #jaebum fluff #mark fluff #youngjae #park jinyoung #youngjae fanfic #youngjae fanfiction #got7 youngjae #youngjae got7 #jinyoung #jinyoung fanfic #jinyoung fanfiction #jinyoung fluff #yugyeom #got7 yugyeom #yugyeom got7 #yugyeom fanfic #got7 bambam #bambam #bambam got7 #bambam fanfic

[themcfuckups]

ok, below is an rp i and @monty-enzo​ did, it sorta peters off when i guess i left the rp mood, which is why it switched from first person? to just us talking about them. (also my end started out not rp-like bcuz idk i do that sometimes when i dont feel like typing real rp responses) warnings: some nsfw at the end, otherwise its fairly safe word count: 2069(nice)

Monty was a mess, he said he would be home in a while. But his 'while' had dragged on to longer then he wanted. When he got home he just collapsed on the couch, too tired to move too upset to clean up. To much pain for anything else. He takes out his phone and looks at it bleary eyed, then deletes the messages then texts Oscar. Sorry I'm late. -M Are you still home? -M I hope you made yourself some dinner. -M Please don't wait up for me. -M He drops the phone onto the ground and lays with his face in the couch.

oscar was prob crying bcuz he was lonely and sal prob hung out with him till it got late then went home, and the lonely part isnt montys fault, oscars just really extroverted and has a need to be around ppl a lot. but when he hears montys back he'd immediately go greet him. sit on the floor next to the couch and be like hi im glad ur home bby

Monty felt sick, and the expectant look on Oscar's face made his stomach turn. What was he supposed to say? He didn't say anything he just started crying and clung on to Oscar. "S-stupid, h-hormones." he sniffed. "S-sorry I hic took s-so long t-to  sob come ho-home.."

Oscar wasn't expecting the burst of emotion from monty. he hugged him from the floor, rubbing his back "aw hey, what's wrong baby? who's ass do i needta kick?" he said the last part with a hint of aggression, always ready to throw down if someone hurt monty in any way.

Monty sniffed trying to get his words out without sounding to blubbery, "Atlas invited me over.. to introduce me to someone I never met." he wipes his face. "It was my dad..." he mumbles "Then Atlas got mad when I said he couldn't come to the wedding..."

Oscar wasnt sure how to respond to that. he'd always assumed monty's parents were dead, since he'd never heard mention of them. but of course, the main thing that rung in oscars head was that atlas was the one who'd upset him. he leaned back to cup his face and kiss his forehead, with sincerity and a small smile "do ya want me to punch him? i can punch him for ya."

Monty actually let out a weak giggle at that "No his face has to be pretty for the wedding you know..." he wipes his face and snuggles with Oscar. "I just dont know how he expects me to suddenly allow someone like that, back into my life..." Monty choked up again "He didn't want me."

oscar nuzzled him, happy he'd gotten a smile out of him."well, he made tha mistake of his life, clearly. look at what a wonderful person he missed out on knowin."  he wasnt fond of thinking about family that didnt want him, but he could relate a lot to it, and he didnt want monty to feel alone in it  "if it helps any.. my dad didnt want me either. i was told he seen me after i was born in the hospital and jus left then and there.. but ya know, fuck em. theyre just shitty people who dont give a fuck about their own kids.. id bet money their ribcages are empty." he said the last sentence with a sneer.

Monty didn't want to dwell on the subject any longer, so he just smothered Oscar in kisses. In his mind he claimed they would be the better dads and not leave their kids and never look back. He slides off the couch and carefully sits in Oscar's lap "Were you able to get yourself some dinner?" he asked finally, "Also you smell like Sal," he leans close and sniffs him. Sure he didnt have the smelling power Oscar's moms did but he could still smell that.

oscars tail thumped the floor a little before he controlled it to stop, happily kissing back and cuddling him close "wasnt hungry, and sal hung out with me for a bit.  they got some dinner for me before they left, think its chinese.. ya wanna eat it?"

"No, I'm not really hungry... I don't think the baby was to happy I got upset.. and kind of hurt me a little." Monty rubs his stomach slightly then rubs Oscar's. "And how are you my little turtle dove, did you get lonely too?" he coos and smooches Oscar's stomach.

oscar grins lopsided and does his best not to wag his tail again at the cute display. he was really getting tired of this tail business. the small fetus responded by giving a weak little kick, "heh, i think they missed ya too. looks like ya got two number one fans now, huh?"  it takes him a moment to backtrack to the first sentence, grin dropping in worry "do ya feel ok? should we go to tha doctor? are you bleeding? are they moving?" barage of questions as his hands moved under montys clothes to gently feel his stomach.

Monty slightly tensed under Oscar's hands and his face colored "Yes I feel fine, no we dont need a doctor, no I am not bleeding, and yes they are moving." and just as he said that Shiloh turned over, the movement felt against Oscar's hands. Monty shuddered a little knowing that Oscar's fingers would reach where the strap would be if he had a bra on. Which he promptly removed as soon as he got home.

oscar grinned at the movement, feeling his soul flutter in response. that was his baby in there, a tiny little thing he made with monty. he completly ignored his tail thumping the floor now, too concentrated on monty to care "youll tell me if ya dont feel good, right? and you should eat, what if it's hungry?"

He smiles softly "Of course babe, I'll eat for them, and I will tell you if something is wrong." Monty gets up with a little effort and waddles into the kitchen for some cinnamon oatmeal and milk. Something warm and yummy and filling for the baby. 

Oscar didnt have nearly as much trouble as Monty did with getting up, following behind him and being what some would consider an absolute annoyance, hovering, rubbing his shoulders , ect. Though at least he helped assist monty on getting items. He got a text, fishing his phone out to glance at it before shoving it back in his pocket without giving the words of the text a second thought. 

Monty honestly didn't mind Oscar hovering him, he had been used to it for a long time, and knew how to do things without tripping over him. Monty made dinner and while he was working on it watched as Oscar got a text "Who was it?" he asked seeing him shove it back into his pocket, concerned. "You okay babe?" he frowns stopping what he was doing and turning around to give Oscar his undivided attention.

Oscar looked at him a little confused, almost already forgetting the text. "Oh, it was jus ma." They had left for a few days to go deal with something else, but both texted him several times a day to make sure he wasn't slacking on taking care of his baby. Monty turning his attention towards him though, he crouched to nuzzle him again, being his ever affectionate self and ignoring whatever his mother had told him. 

Monty had finished making the oatmeal, since he wasnt entirely hungry, though it was for Shiloh's sake. He kissed Oscar for a moment then turns to get his bowl and starts eating, "Was it something important? You shouldn't ignore her texts." 

Oscar sits down, frowning a little "I'm not ignoring her, I seen it, it was just about-" he glanced at the bowl and frowned more, looking guilty "oh.. hm.." he fiddled with his sleeve a bit "I guess I should eat too. Heh.." its not that he was trying to not take care of himself, it just didnt really click as important to him unless he actually thought about it. 

"So, you didn't eat when Sal brought food over?" he asked as he spooned another mouthful of oatmeal into his mouth, he felt the baby shift inside of him. Rubbing his stomach "There there little one you'll get some food it will just take a little bit." Monty sits on Oscar's lap "Aahh." he holds a spoonful of oatmeal to Oscar. 

Oscar shrugged "put it in the fridge, that's why I asked if you wanted it.." he felt bad now for neglecting his baby. And stupid that he needed to be reminded of something so simple. He still smiled a little at the cute offer, eating the spoonful before kissing montys neck "if only eating you out counted as a square meal, I'd never forget to eat." He sat monty in his place, going to grab the food hed put in the fridge since he didnt want monty having to share his meal with him. 

Monty blushed, though looked down when he got moved "Oh," he frowns he didnt really want take out "It was very nice of Sal to bring you some food while I was away." he stated eating more of the oatmeal, even though he wasn't exactly gone very long. Though again just thinking about it had his mind full of thoughts. His dad, suddenly coming back into his life which he had no idea he still was alive. Why had Atlas not said anything until just now? Monty stopped eating. -------

m- I guess Monty would of just told Oscar hes not sure what to think about inviting his dad to his wedding, and hes not happy Atlas didn't tell him his dad was still alive until now and hes not even sure he wants Atlas to go. Like 'you cant just forget about that and not tell me.'

o-Oscar wouldnt know what to suggest, just be like 'follow ur heart'

m-I think Monty would be mad for like a while and fuckin extreme clean the house. which .. Oscar should stop him since hes pregnant -v- dishes, scrub the floors, counters, wipe the walls, dust. vacuum

0-Be like bitch stop that and sit down

m-babe lift the couch for me >:V

0-Massages his feet and kisses his toes

m- Monty just dsklhsdf and blushes hes ticklish slightly

0-Oscar's like if u want a workout, just bend over and I'll help you with a much better one. That doesnt include possible bad cleaning supply smells or toxins. Just nice organic stuff

m- fklshd Oscar is like "Welp time for baby yoga lets go." Monty gets down on the floor on all fours and sticks his butt up in the air. "Yeah I guess this helps." fksldhf

0- Well he meant his dick, but that works too

m- summon the dicco :V and I know you did I think Monty might end up crying during sex though cause hes super emotional lmao "Babe can we just snuggle.. Im sorry" sniffle

0- hed kiss him a lot and hold his hands "We can absolutely snuggle" Rub his tummy His dick can wait Like shhh it's ok, I can get off later, I just wanna smooch u and make u feel loved

m-hlkfhg Monty keeps pushing his plump lil ass against Oscar's hips like "plz fuck my thighs"

0-WELL ITS HARD TO REFUSE IF U DO THAT MONTY

m-dslkfh do it oscar stick your dick between those plump thighs meng give him a good ol squeeze.

o-Fine but hope montys prepared to have him panting and groaning curses against his neck

m-klshdf Monty is super blushy and still got tears from crying before but now hes fucking aroused and shit might fucking nut just from the rubbing

o-Hell yeah, dick rubbing over his puss Nuts all over his thighs and tummy

m-Monty is all panting and just gives him sloppy kisses clinging onto him "Thanks babe I feel a lot better now." nuzzles his face. - theeeen starts crying again "I love you so much." -sobs

o-Hfgdgdxvhfhg oscar just peppers kisses all over him and tells him how sweet and perfect he is

m-Monty turns and snuggles into Oscar touching him all over and cuddling up to him. Then probably just falls asleep against him afterwords tuckered out from stress -------end

#oscarrp #rptag

[moonie-here]

Shaken to the Core-Chapter 1

Fandom: Thomas Sanders/Sander Sides

Summery: Logan and Roman make a mistake with deadly consequences. Can Patton right their wrong before Virgil is gone forever?

Warnings: Angst. Crying. Non-descriptive body horror. General sad feeling. Slight physical fighting.

Pairings: Platonic Moxiety

ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13874427

{°°°}

The cracks first appeared he was alone.

Virgil was sitting on his bed drawing and listening to My Chemical Romance when he felt it.

It was as if someone had taken a sledgehammer to his ribs and mercilessly beating him with it. A scream of pain wracked it’s way up his throat, but was muffled by the sleeve of his hoodie as he threw his hand over his mouth.

Oh god oh god ohgodohgodohgod.

He crawled off of his bed over to the mirror on his wall, small sobs coming from his lips  even with his hand over his mouth as he worked his way over slowly to the mirror.

He took a minute to gain focus and work past the pain before yanking his hoodie off and lifting up his shirt.

When he saw what was there a much louder sob pushed from between his lips.

Cracks.

Starting at his left hip slowly working their way up his abdomen and onto his chest. Something that looked like oil and blood dripped slowly from the newly formed crevices in his skin. Bruises were forming around the edges in shades of black, blue and yellow.

He let his shirt slip from his fingers and sat back on his knees. He finally caught his own reflections eye in the mirror. His makeup was smeared down his red puffy cheeks and exposed the heavy, purple bags under his eyes. His hair was messy from where he had grabbed his head in a state of panic. He looked like shit. He felt like it too.

“So this is how I go huh?” He whispered to the empty room.

...

“Not surprised.”

{°°°}

He figured out pretty quickly what was happening. Patton would avoid eye contact, Roman didn't talk to him and Logan would freeze every time he entered the room.

They didn't tell him. He didn't expect them to. It was supposed to be a secret between the three of them anyway. Why make it awkward?

Oh hey, by the way, I totally know you got Thomas is to take anxiety medication. Yeah, also it's totally gonna kill me. Anyway how's your day been?

Not happening.

Whenever he felt the cracks worsen he simply shut himself in his bathroom for as long as it took for it to stop and to clean himself up. The blood-oil stuff was a mess to clean up so he stopped trying to clean the bathroom after every “attack”. It was gross but at this point he didn't care. He was dying after all.

This happened consistently for a week before it really got worse. The cracks spread rapidly and Virgil spent most of his time in his bathroom, which was now covered in a layer of black sludge. He left only if he knew nothing was going to happen, which was almost never at this point. And despite the fact that Pat had tried to talk to him consistently over the last two weeks he felt...so alone.

{°°°}

Patton missed Virgil. Ever since Logan came to him and Roman with the idea of medication he felt...iky. Roman had been on board right away but Patton wanted to ask Virgil about it and the others wouldn't let him.

He felt wrong. Virgil was his best friend and he hated lying. He had rarely seen Virgil since this entire thing started and when he did Virgil looked on the brink of death. It had been two weeks since they had they had a proper conversation and oh, he just wanted to hug his son right now. He wanted to help Virge with whatever was going on and see if the pills had done anything bad.

Patton was curled up in his bed debating on going to tell Virgil what was going on. He’d tried to check on the other side before but Virge had always turned him away saying “I’m fine,” or “I’m just tired.”

In fact Patton was so wrapped up in his own thoughts he only snapped out when a violent, hysterical scream pierced through the tense air of the mind scape.

He shot straight up, throwing his quilt and several stuffed animals off of his bed. He swung his door open and rushed into the hall looking around widely until another scream pierced it's way into his brain.

His stomach sank.

The scream came from Virgil’s room.

{°°°}

Virgil felt it coming. After about two weeks he could feel it before it hit, like someone would just start slowly squeezing his kidney until pain took over his entire body. The cracks almost covered his body now. Up to his collarbone, forearms and ankles.

This one was different though. He could tell. His stomach twisted differently and his hands shook more than usual. The throbbing all over his body was more intense as well.

This was gonna be the last one.He felt tears gather in the corner of his eyes as he walked shakily from the bathroom to the desk in his room. He didn't want to sit down but his legs were giving out.

He slumped into the chair and pulled out a new sheet of lined paper and his favorite pen. He couldn't figure out what to write to the others. He wanted to say goodbye but he wasn't good at all this mushy stuff.

Fuck it.

He poured out everything he was thinking onto the paper until he had to flip it over for more room. Halfway down the second side the pain hit full force.

He tried to push up to make it to the bathroom but ended up falling onto the the floor, chair toppling right alongside him.

The pain was so much at once. It tore through him. Literally. He couldn't breath, he could barely think. He wanted it to end.

Make it stop oh god oh god please helpme helpme helpme i should have told them i dont wanna die please stop it it hurts

Tears ran down his face as he curled into a ball. He clenched his jacket’s sleeves looking for some release but all he felt was his fingers cracking and slipping on the weird sludge that was now soaking the fabric. He felt a scream claw its way up his throat.

…

Hands.

Hands were on him. Pulling his own fingers from where he clenched the hoodie till it tore. Someone was crying and holding him. Pushing his bangs from his forehead, as he felt tears land on his face. The person was singing to him with shuddering breaths. He wish he knew who it was. He couldn't sort out any real thought and his body was thrashing out of his control, jerking violently in every direction.

You are my sunshine, my only sunshine. You make me happy when skies are gray. You’ll never know dear how much i’ll love you. Please don't take my sunshine away.

Patton?

Virgil open his mouth to talk, only to start hacking up black sludge. The taste of mud and iron worked its way up his throat and passed his lips. I can't breathe!

The coughing, pain and cracking went on for what felt like hours. The presence of two others appeared by his side only to be pushed back by what he assumed was Patton. It took all of his strength but he managed to pull his eyelids apart. He locked eyes with Pat.

“V-virgil? Kiddo-o you with-th me?”

“Virgil, what caused this?” Virgil’s eyes flickered towards the voice even when his body jerked away, curling further into Patton’s arms.

“Not now Logan.” He looked back at Patton who was glaring at who he gathered was the logical side. Patton looked…. Scary. His eyes were red and watery but looked as if they were shooting daggers to kill someone. His entire face a bright pink in the non-blushy way. Sadness? Anger? This wasn't Pat.

He coughed again and all attention was back on him. He whimpered “P-patn?”

“Im here kiddo. Im right here…”

“Hurts...make it stop?”

He felt fingers run through his hair. “Yeah I know kiddo. I’m not sure I can make it stop, but i'm damn well gonna try.”

“I-I think ima die?”

The hand froze and three people sucked in at the same time.

“No. You're not gonna die Virgil. You're my best friend and im not letting you die.”

“I can feel it… I don't wanna die Pat.” His fists worked their way into his polo. “Don't let me die.”

Tears. Everything was blurry as tears ushered down his cheeks making tracks through the black goop that strained his face. He let loose a few strangled gasps as he felt himself crumble.

“NO! COME ON VIRGIL PLEASE! I-I cant l-loose you…”

“M’sorry Pat….”

{°°°}

Patton’s arms were empty now. They had been for an hour. At least what he thought was an hour. He didn't know anymore. He didn't care. His best friend died in his arms and he did nothing but cry.

When Virgil passed it was messy. A mix of dust and black sludge were pooled around him staining everything it touched. The only thing left was Virgil’s hoodie, which Patton had clutched in his closed fists. Logan and Roman were still standing in the doorway where Patton had kept them. He still didn't let them close. When Patton finally moved from his kneeling position, two hours and thirty-seven minutes later, he fell onto the edge of Virgil’s bed smearing black onto the mussed up sheets.

Logan spoke, breaking the silence. “Patton. We... we should clean this up.”

Pat looked up at him from the hoodie in his grip. Mouth opening and closing a few times before he found his voice. “No.”

“Pat this is hard for all if us but surely we cant-” Roman was cut of when a fist connected with the side of his face.

“Patton!” Logan yelled as Princey fell to the floor with a thud.

“NO LOGAN…” He yelled spinning to face the logical trait, and grabbing by his collar. “MY BEST FRIEND JUST DIED IN MY ARMS AND YOU BOTH ACT LIKE IT’S NOTHING!” He spat it out as if it was the most disgusting thing ever to touch his tongue.

Tears threatened to spill from Patton's eyes as he stared Logan down.

“He’s gone…

And it’s because of his own family….”

Pat let go of his shirt, arms swinging to his sides. A sob broke through his lips as he sank to the floor once more, curling up into a tight ball. His whole body shook as he cried loudly into Virgil’s hoodie.

Roman looked on in disbelief. Patton hadn't cried like this ever...not even when Thomas got dumped.

Bile rose in his own throat as he looked over the moral side. He threw his hand over his mouth in order to keep it down. Tears spilled down his own cheeks as he looked up at Logan.

His eyes widened when he saw red blotchy cheeks and shaking shoulders.

“What did we do?” He heard Logan whisper.

“Oh god what did we do…?”

@pattson @anxious-ball-of-sunshine @my-happy-little-bean @ironwoman359 @mirror2thespirit @shadow-walker-1201 @thecrimsoncodex (suffer with me)

#logan sanders #roman sanders #patton sanders #virgil sanders #im sorry #thomas sanders #sander sides #holy shit #im crying #send help

[all-hail-the-witcher]

(for that fic commentary thing :) ) Mush tried desperately to make eye contact with Blink to see if it was real, but Blink stubbornly kept his head down. Mush felt hot tears in his eyes. Surely, this wasn’t how they would end, this had to be a dream. He would wake up any second and Blink would put his arms around him and hold him close and reassure him that he would never leave him.However, it was not a dream, and Mush found that out the hard way when Oscars knuckles connected with his skull.

I should really title my shit

comments in these bad bois ()

_________

Mush had been on edge all morning. He listened to Jack ramble to Weasel about the strike, scanning the crowd of newsboys for a familiar head of sandy hair. Blink hadn’t been at the lodge that morning and Mush was beginning to get worried. What if he had bailed on them? (Welp that’s a terrible opening, it doesn’t even establish if they’re at the actual strike or not but yolo I’m leaving it)

Mush’s worst fears were confirmed when he saw his boyfriend walking up to the circulation gate amongst the other scabs to buy papers. His stomach sunk down to his shoes. (is that a term? isn’t it sinking to the floor? they’re outside there is no floor….Wait is it your heart?) Surely Blink wouldn’t do that. He wouldn’t betray all of them. Would he? (oh yes he would)

Mush tried desperately to make eye contact with Blink to see if it was real, but Blink stubbornly kept his head down. Mush felt hot tears in his eyes. (ew that’s cringy. can tears even be hot? I don’t think I’m using this correctly…..) Surely, this wasn’t how they would end, this had to be a dream. He would wake up any second and Blink would put his arms around him and hold him close and reassure him that he would never leave him.

However, it was not a dream, (no shit) and Mush found that out the hard way when Oscars knuckles connected with his skull. (that was a disgusting intro argh I regret writing this)

•••

Hours later, after getting beaten beyond recognition by the bulls and the brothers, Mush staggered into an ally to rest a moment. (wait what injuries does he have? im confused, should I work those out...nah) He was trying to get back to the lodge, to all of his brothers whom (is this an instance where I should use whom, idfk but it sounds cool) he knew should be worried about him, but he lacked the strength. (seriously what happened to him??) All he could hope was that one of the boys found him.

And someone did, eventually. But it wasn’t the someone he had been hoping for.

“Mush?! Oh my god. Mush, can you hear me? Oh my god, oh my god.” (ah yes I forgot to add those italics when I published whoops)

Mush blinked open his eyes to see the one person who, until this morning, he had trusted more than anything. Blink was kneeling down in front of him, concern and worry clouding his face. (I use the word clouding way too much) Mush wasn’t sure if he was relieved or terrified to see him.

Blink reached out his hand to touch Mush’s face, but he flinched away. Blink looked hurt. “Mush…” he whispered in disbelief. (awwwwwww)

“No,” Mush croaked out. “You don’ ge’ t’ touc’ me an’mor’.” (Argh stuttering and slurring is so hard to write is that even legible)

“Mush, listen I-” (sHuT uP bLinK)

“No,” Mush said again with as much force as he could muster. He paused to spat some blood out of his mouth. (Seriously boi What happened to you? If you’re that badly hurt Blink should havebrought you to the lodge instead of talking) “You b’tray’d us. You shoul’n’ e’en be ‘ere. Jus’ -”

“Michael Myers, will you just shut up and listen to me?” (FUCK IS HIS NAME MICHAEL SHIT FUCK CRAP I NEED TUMBLR)

Mush was so startled by the use of his real name that he paused his rant.

“Oscar and Morris,” Blink began, “they cornered me yesterday. Offered me three dollars (is three dollars even a lot back then?) and a promise that they wouldn’t hurt you during the strike if I became a scab. As I didn’t-” Blink paused, sniffling slightly. “I didn’t want you to get hurt. And money’s been tight at the lodge recently and I knew we would need some to buy medical stuff and food once the strike started. And I didn’t want to, believe me it was the last thing I wanted. But I had to keep you safe, I had to at least try, I can’t….I can’t lose you too.” (too? Who else have you lost? Idk but I’m putting it in) Blink wiped at his eyes with the bottom of his shirt. “But it looks like it was all for nothing cause they beat you up so bad I barely even recognized you coming in here. It was all for nothing and now you probably hate me and the boys all probably hate me so I’ll just bring you back to the lodge and then I’ll be gone, okay? I’ll leave and never come back. None of you guys are going to want to have a traitor there anyway.” (awwwwwwwwwwwww soft soft boyo I love you)

Mush stared at Blink in a stunned silence for several long seconds before reaching out his less injured arm to clasp Blinks hand. (Less injured arm? Has this kid gone through a war or something?) Blink looked up in surprise at the contact.

“I firgiv’ ya,” Mush slurred. (fuck more slurring) “Ya did th’ wron’ thing fir th’ righ’ re’sins. An’ ‘f any uh da fellas can’ see tha’...” Mush trailed off. There was so much more he wanted to say. Blink had been so brave, doing something he knew might get him kicked out of his only home just to protect him. Admittedly, it hadn’t worked in his favor but it was the thought that counted.

“Thank you,” Blink whispered, curling his fingers gently around Mush’s potentially broken ones. (pretty sure I stole this from a fic oops) “I love you, Mush.”

Mush was too tired to say it back, but he squeezed Blinks hand ever so slightly. Blink seemed to notice Mush’s rapidly deteriorating physical state (oh finally? It’s not like he’s half dead or anything get him back you moron o wait I’m the author I have the power to do that oops) because his eyes widened and he gently picked his boyfriend up. Mush let out a few pained moans, but remained otherwise quiet.

“C’mon babe,” he whispered. “Let’s get you home.” (that could have been longer but I’m lazy argh)

#saph comments #ooof

[ellay-gee]

The Important Things

Ayy check it out, I’m figuring Tumblr out.  What a way to spend a sick day.  It was weirdly ominous that i got very ill the night I posted a sickfic. o.O

also, apologies to mobile readers, as the ‘keep reading’ thing apparently does not transfer over, and I just don’t have the energy to mess with it at this time.  damn fever.

Prompto should probably not be left on his own ever, but especially not when he's running a fever and can barely form coherent speech.

Ignis sighed in frustration as he pinched the bridge of his nose, nudging his glasses up a little as he did.  “Prompto, ginger ale is not medication.”

The voice on the other end of the line was closer to gravel than sunshine, and Ignis winced in sympathy for how painful it must’ve been for the blond to speak.  “Sure id is, Ig.  S’tha cure-all fer what ails you.”

Ignis tapped his foot on the marble floor as he checked his watch. It was difficult to tell if Prompto was just laying it on thick, or if he’d actually somehow gotten worse in the two hours since Ignis left that morning.  “I’ll be home in about six hours.  Do you think you’ll be alright till then?  I can probably send Gladio or Iris over—“

A harsh cough interrupted him before his boyfriend’s voice came back, weaker and a little wheezier.  “Dodo, s’ok.  I probbiss. I got…gidger ale. Add oj with the pulp, so, y’dow…healthy.  And that coddedsed soup; also healthy. I’m juss gonda sleep, Ig.  Just.  I’ll be ok, kay?”

“Condensed soup.” Ignis scoffed, but couldn’t keep the soft smile from his voice. “How you ever made it to nineteen is a mystery.”

“I’b tellig you, s’tha gidger ale. Goddds, Iggy. Feels like I’b swallowig glass.  This is not gonda be good for our sex life.”

Ignis clucked his tongue affectionately. “As if I’d touch you in your current state.”

Prompto let out something between a hack and a laugh.  “Y’dow you cad’t resist me. Lubb you, hab a good daaaay.”

Ignis returned the sentiment and hung up.  He had a feeling that he’d have his work cut out for him when he got home.

Somehow, he couldn’t bring himself to mind.

When Ignis next found himself with an extra moment, it was two hours and eleven texts later.

Prompto →  hey wheres canpoter?

Prompto →  canopner*

Prompto →  the thing that opens cans

Prompto →  im hungry and everything is working abaingst me.

Prompto →  nm its a poptop

Prompto →  stove hates me. Everything hates me. All but you ig. U r bust.

Prompto →  best*

Prompto →  fuck it going back to bed.

Prompto →  shit ur at ur meetings. Sorry.  Gods hope ur shit is on slient.

Prompto →  forvige me?

Prompto →  fuuuck. FORGIVE* me???

Me  → Always

Me  → Please do get some rest.  I will be home as soon as I am able

Me  → And the can opener is in the drawer to the left of the sink

Me  → Where it always is

Noctis groaned next to him, rolling his eyes as he read the messages over his adviser’s shoulder.  “Prom’s sick, huh? He’s the living worst when he’s sick.”

Ignis frowned down his charge. “Yes, he can be a bit much.”

Noctis laughed at that, “Yeah, that’s how you know he’s really ok.  It’s when he starts lying and getting quiet that you have to be worried.

“One time he got the flu and refused to admit he was feeling bad. Kept himself going with energy drinks and cough syrup.  He was loopy as hell and fucking bit it on the track during gym; completely blacked out while running pretty fast and basically ended up with road-rash and a concussion.”

Ignis winced in sympathy. “Hmm, yes. I thought I was successfully keeping him under wraps, but yesterday he slipped out before I woke and went to training.  Cor had to call me to come collect him from the men’s room floor.  Apparently he didn’t make formation and the marshal found him ‘vomiting up everything he’d ever eaten’.  He’s been mewling in bed ever since.”

Noctis gave Ignis a sympathetic expression.  “Poor dude.  Just make sure you don’t get it and give it to me.”

“Of course, Highness.  I wouldn’t dream of getting you ill.  You’re a thousand times worse than Prompto.”

The adviser chuckled as the prince seemed to consider this, finally nodding in agreement. “You’re right. I’m definitely worse.”

The second time Ignis was able to pull away from the meeting long enough to glance at his phone, another hour had gone by. In that time, Prompto had managed to send him seven links to songs he’d apparently listened to and wished to share, a rambling text about how much he ‘lurvd’ the adviser, and an article about how ginger ale could, in fact, settle one’s stomach.

Rolling his eyes, Ignis sent off a sweet text, wishing his boyfriend well and promising he’d be home as soon as possible. With real medicine.

By the time Ignis was finally able to go home, it was three hours and zero texts later.  This was a little disconcerting, so he placed a call to Prompto’s phone as he headed for the garage.  Receiving no answer, he waited for the cheery greeting to end and left a message.

“Darling, I am on my way home.  I need to stop by the pharmacy to collect your medications.  I’ll be there soon, though.  Love you.”

He slipped his phone back in his pocket and hurried his step. He didn’t like being away from Prompto for this long when the freckled youth was sick or otherwise incapacitated.  Ignis learned early on in their relationship that Prompto never wanted to ‘be a bother’, and would instead try to soldier on as if nothing were wrong. He could have a high fever and a sprained ankle, and he’d still insist on going on his morning run and completing his chores around their small house.

Ignis loved him endlessly, but there were times in which he would like to throttle the boy. Prompto’s self-deprecating/self-destructive streak could be rather irksome at times.

He stopped at the usual pharmacy and picked up cold medicine and a few other necessities, doing his best not to tap his foot impatiently as he stood in line. It would still be at least thirty minutes before he’d actually get home.

Though he’d been the one to insist that they get a place near the outskirts of the city, he did find himself regretting it from time to time, if only in instances such as this. But, he’d wanted to give Prompto something beautiful. The boy had been raised in the city, and though they could not move outside the Wall due to Ignis’ duties, the adviser could give him new scenery to explore. So, he’d found a small rental property situated on its own acre of land, nestled in among the rolling hills near the wall. Sure, it was a longer commute, but they spent it together most days which made it bearable.

He enjoyed their late afternoons in their little home; Prompto would wander the hills and the thicket of woods at the back of the property, taking photos while Ignis prepared dinner. They were even considering getting a dog, though Ignis himself would prefer a cat.

He was not going for Prompto’s ‘compromise’ of getting both.

As he turned onto the three mile stretch of gravel road that led to their little home, Ignis pressed the button on his dash to connect the Bluetooth, hoping Prompto would pick up this time. He had several bags and was hoping the other man could unlock the door for him.

He breathed a quiet relieved sigh when the phone was answered.  Prompto sounded awful, not even able to make intelligible sounds on his end.

“I’m almost home, darling.” He said when Prompto gave up talking in favor of hacking up a lung.  “I know you’re not feeling well, but could you—“

Prompto gasped into the phone, his voice ragged. “Iggy.  Ig. S’hot.  I dunno—“

Ignis swallowed hard. It sounded like Prompto had only gotten worse in their hours apart. “I know, darling, I know. It’s probably just because of your fever—“’

Prompto hissed through the line, whining little when he couldn’t stop another string of coughs.  “Nooo Iggyyy.  S’hot. I…the sto..the soup…” he trailed off as he wheezed desperately. “S..ss..smoke.”

With that last sibilant word, Ignis pressed his foot firmly on the gas pedal, his tires spinning in the gravel before gaining purchase, spitting rocks as he sped down the road. “Are you saying there’s a fire, Prompto?  Prom? Can you get out of the house?”

But there’s only coughing and a small thump quickly followed by a larger one from the other end, and Ignis’ stomach tightens considerably.  He brakes only slightly when their driveway comes into sight, the end of his town car fishtailing as he swerved into it. He shut the engine off and snatched the keys from the ignition before stumbling from the car and bounding up the porch stairs.

Smoke was indeed beginning to rise from the small building, and his hands shook as he shoved his key into the door, unlocking it and rushing inside.

Luckily for him, the living room was mostly clear of smoke, though it was heavy in the hall leading to the kitchen. Ignis called Prompto’s name before covering his mouth with his shirt and plunging into the haze.

He tried calling Prompto’s name, but quickly gave up as the smoke penetrated his lungs. His first stop was the kitchen, where he could barely make out the fire was licking up the cabinets above the stove and across the counter for all the smoke. Luckily he was able to spot a flash of Prompto’s bright blue pajama pants on the floor behind the dining table before he moved on in his search.  

Of course he would be as close to the fire as he could possibly get. He would not be Prompto, otherwise.

Ignis shoved this thought aside as he lept into action, kicking a flaming chair out of his way as he rushed towards Prompto. He crouched down, gripped Prompto under his arms and dragged him from the room.

Once far enough from the flames, Ignis scooped the boy up in his trembling arms and strode back out into the early evening air.  He laid Prompto in the grass and crouched down again, this time checking his breathing and pulse.

Thankfully, both were there and at near-normal levels, all things considered. He quickly checked the blond over for more injuries, finding some small burns on his arms and hands and a growing lump on his head where it had presumably struck the floor when he fell. The adviser fished his phone from his pocket and quickly dialed for emergency services before planting himself down on the ground next to his lover, pulling the other’s small frame into his lap.

His throat tightened as he gazed up at their perfect little house while it spat flames into the darkening sky. Ignis swallowed down his panic as he pressed gentle kisses to Prompto’s slack brow, running his free hand in circles on the smaller man’s chest as he rocked them both.

“Just stay out of the kitchen, Prompto.” Ignis said from the doorway as the freckled youth headed inside.  It had been three days since the fire, and they were just now being allowed to come back in and collect anything that may be salvageable.

“I know, I know.” Prompto’s voice was still rough; not only from the cold, but also from the smoke inhalation. He stepped lightly through the living room, heading for the hall.

Ignis followed, taking the same path; both men giving the kitchen a wide berth. Prompto was heading towards their bedroom, finding it mostly intact; just light soot stains covering everything. The adviser pulled out a notebook and began making a list of everything they would need to have packed up and delivered to their storage unit while Prompto began gathering the things they needed right then.

It was a short trip; they collected a few bags of clothing and some of Ignis’ important files. Most of the trunk was filled with Prompto’s camera equipment and various other electronics. While the blond carried the last of their things out to the car, Ignis found himself wandering towards the kitchen, though he was careful to remain outside the room.

He couldn’t help the sadness that swept over him. They’d spent so many mornings in this room, talking softly over breakfast. This was actually the first room they’d made love in when they had moved in. Now, the room was riddled with half-burnt debris and there was a clear spot outlined in soot where Prompto had been laying while fire raged all around him.

What remained of the interior was mostly black, but great chunks of the outside wall were missing and daylight shone through in cheerful juxtaposition to the destruction it illuminated. The fire had began due to a faulty light on the stove; it had not come on to indicate that it was heating when Prompto had put the soup on, and in his sickly stupor, he simply gave up--leaving it on as he went back to bed, believing the stove to be broken. After a few hours, the soup had cooked down and began to burn; the inspector reasoned that the curtains above the stove had probably been the first thing to actually catch fire and it had quickly spread from there.

He supposed he’d been lost in his melancholy longer than necessary, for he was startled out of his thoughts by a hesitant arm encircling his waist.

He wrapped his own arm around Prompto’s shoulders, pulling him closer, smiling a little at the warmth that rose in his chest when the smaller man leaned bodily into him.  

“I’m so sorry, Iggy.” Prompto ground out, rubbing his face into Ignis’ side. “Looks like all your stuff is ruined. Kinda unfair that my stuff’s ok, but you couldn’t save anything of yours.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that.” Ignis squeezed Prompto’s shoulder and dropped a kiss into his hair.  “I saved you, didn’t I? You’re all the ‘stuff’ I need.”

Prompto chuckled, poking Ignis in the side playfully. “The only kind of ‘stuff’ I am is hot stuff.” He waggled his eyebrows suggestively at the adviser, who groaned and rolled his eyes in response.

“I love you dearly, but please save the puns for me.” He laughed a little louder, a little more freely, as Prompto pulled him towards the door.

“Nuh-uh, you don’t own puns, Igs.” Prompto quelled any further argument by pulling Ignis down into a passionate kiss.

It was a cheap way to win the impending playful exchange, but Ignis couldn’t bring himself to mind.

#ffxv #sickfic #ffxvsickfic #promnis