#(I enjoyed it though hehe) | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

attic-club-sandwich · 2 years ago

Text

How They are Handling your Disappearance Pt. 3

MC Returns

Ahh you guys i'm so glad you are enjoying this little series! I wasn't expecting so many of you to like it! But as requested by many, here is part 3 where MC returns to the present day timeline and reunites with the 7 brothers. This is a bit of a lengthy one because like... we are home! It's a little less angsty, a little more happy this time haha. Anyways, please enjoy! Reblogs and feedback are appreciated as usual!

Read Part 1: Brothers

Read Part 2: Side Characters

Word count: 3,057

Rating: T, slightly suggestive.

Taglist: @amberrskiies @obey-me-posts @sassykattery @delphi-dreamin @bite-sized-devil @flemmingbamse @a-hidden-gem @otomefoxystar @siofrantic @todothedodo @ihatecorns @exrellian @vernith @sus0daddy

Fill out this form if you want to be tagged in my work!

rose divider by @/firefly-graphics

It feels like it has been forever since the day that you went missing, but the brothers never gave up their search. How could they when you were out there somewhere, possibly alone and scared? The thought of their little human wandering around the unknown gave them the motivation they needed to keep going. But after a long day of once again searching the Devildom up and down with no results, the brothers are settling down for the evening.

Lucifer

The Avatar of Pride is in his room getting ready for bed after a long day of searching for you.

His wings are terribly sore from flying all day, so he lays on his bed sprawled out on his stomach, allowing his feathery wings to stretch out behind him.

He rests his head in his arms, and sighs.

Yet another day of searching, but no results.

Suddenly, he begins to feel a familiar tingling sensation of magic in the air that brings goosebumps to his bare arms.

Before he had time to process what was happening, a flash of light filled his room, practically blinding him.

After a few seconds, the light dissipates and there you are, standing in its place.

Lucifer forgets all about his aching wings, and jumps up from the bed.

At first, he hesitates, terrified that you’ll disappear again at any moment.

“M-MC…? Is it really you…?”

His crimson eyes are wide as he takes in your appearance.

You appear the same, but he's confused by the horns that now rest on your head, as well as a few other demonic attributes.

Just where did you disappear to?

Your face scrunches up and your eyes fill with tears. “L-Luci… yes, it’s really me.”

Suddenly, his arms are around you, a million questions in his throat but unable to speak.

You whimper, taking in his scent. He smells freshly showered, the smell of his soap sending a wave of comfort crashing over you.

“Luci… I missed you so much…I’m so sorry…”

His shoulders begin to tremble and he tucks his face into the crook of your neck.

You feel wetness on your skin as he begins to cry.

Have you ever seen him cry before?

Just how much have they all suffered while I was gone?

Your arms wrap themselves around his neck and you squeeze your eyes shut.

You stand there in his arms, his wings wrapping themselves around the two of you protectively.

He will never let you go again.

After a few moments, he pulls away, staring into your eyes.

“MC, the days I've spent searching for you were endless… but never once did I give up. I’m very glad that I didn’t. Every second was worth my time.”

Suddenly his lips are on yours and you accept his kiss greedily.

Kissing him was the confirmation you needed that you were home.

“MC, please forgive me. You can tell me the details later, but right now I just need you. I need to know you are here and…real.”

He spins you around, guiding you to his bed so the back of your legs hit the edge, causing you to fall back.

He hovers over top of you, his crimson eyes full of love, adoration, and desire.

You giggle through your tears, placing a hand on his cheek. “I love you so much, Luci.”

He smiles, tucking a stray hair behind your ear.

“Words alone cannot express my love for you, little one.”

You give him a peck on the lips again. “We have a lot of time to make up for you know… where should we start?”

Lucifer gives you a mischievous grin. “I have just the thing in mind, darling. Something that has been long overdue.”

Mammon

Mammon returned to his bedroom shortly after arriving home.

He had to check on his ravens who were also out searching for you while they were gone.

His wings were sore as shit, and all he wanted to do was shower and go to bed.

But you are more important.

Throwing open his window, one of his ravens glides down to greet him.

“Damn, ya didn’t find anything did ya?”

The raven hangs its head sadly, and Mammon sighs.

“Thanks anyways, I appreciate the help.”

Suddenly the raven begins to flap its wings wildly, cawing at something behind him.

Mammon spins around, and his golden eyes widen in shock when he sees just who is appearing in the middle of his bedroom.

It was you, clear as day.

He’s speechless, unable to find the right words even though he’s been playing them on repeat in his head since the day you left.

“Mammon!” you shout with tears in your eyes. You begin to run towards him, but he meets you halfway, scooping you up into his arms and spinning you around.

He sets you down again, and hugs you snugly to his chest.

“MC…I… Shit. I-I missed ya so damn much…” he says with a shaky voice.

You inhale his scent as he hugs you, which smells of sweat and leather.

You’re home. He’s your Mammon. Finally…

“Mams, I’m so so sorry… I’ll explain everything I promise…”

He pulls you away from him, his golden blue gaze staring intensely at you.

“Damn right ya will! But for now…I don’t care..I just… I need ya so bad… I mean this can’t be real, right?”

You give him a small smile, taking his hand in yours.

“I’m real, Mammon. I promise.”

His tanned skin is flushed as he pulls you with him to sit on his bed, hoisting you up onto his lap.

He can’t hold back anymore as he plants a firm kiss to your lips.

You accept it eagerly.

Your tongues intertwine briefly before he pulls away, breathless.

“I love ya MC, I’m so sorry I couldn’t do a damn thing…”

You silence him with a kiss to the forehead.

“It’s not your fault, Mammon. Please don’t cry…”

He notices your own lip quivering, and let’s out an amused snort through his tears.

“Don’t you go cryin’ on me either!”

His long, slender fingers run through your hair and you sigh.

His lips are on yours once more, a low growl rumbling in his chest.

You can sense his overwhelming desire threatening to take over.

“Mammon’s got ya now, treasure. You’re safe with me. I’m never letting you go again.”

Leviathan

Throughout the search, Levi has been exploring every inch of the Devildom waters.

From seas to lakes, he still could find no trace of you.

Levi heads back to his room, a towel around his waist after Lucifer forced him to strip in the hallway so he didn’t track water through the house.

Once he’s dried off and dressed again, he sinks down in his gaming chair, sighing as his aching limbs are finally able to rest.

Tears welled up in his eyes, disappointed that he let everyone down again.

Especially you.

I’m so useless, he thinks.

A stray tear rolls down his cheek, and he wipes it away with his arm.

A flash of light appears before him, and it sends a tingling sensation up his body.

Wait a minute…that’s…!

His eyes are wide and his mouth gapes open as he looks up to see you standing there right in front of him.

“M-MC, I-Is it really y-you?!” Of course he’s a stuttering mess, but he can’t believe it.

He doesn’t know when he stood up, but suddenly you are slamming into him, wrapping your arms around his torso.

“Yes, Levi. It’s me.” you sob, burying your face into his chest.

Your voice has him melting in your grip.

He finally fully embraces you, burning his face into your hair.

Your scent is slightly different, and he can smell other demons on you.

This sends a wave of envy over him, but he ignores it. All he cares about is that you’re home.

He, however, smells of the sea.

“Levi, I'm so sorry… I promise I’ll explain. I just really need you right now. I’ve missed you so much…”

Leviathan only nods, his shoulders trembling from the sobs that are escaping him.

You stay standing there wrapped in his arms, gently rubbing circles on his back.

After some time, he calms down.

His eyes are red and puffy and his face is swollen. Your heart aches for him.

Suddenly, he grabs your hand, leading you over with him to his bathtub.

You climb in together, and you sit in his lap. His tail curls around you, holding you in place.

“M-MC…can I um, k-kiss you?” he asks, his tear stained cheeks becoming flushed.

You nod eagerly, and he places a soft, gentle kiss to your lips.

Your lips are the same as ever, soft and sweet.

Levi is overwhelmed with affection for you.

“I love you, I love you, I love you…” he mutters, rocking you gently in his lap.

He peppers your face with kisses and you giggle, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“I love you so much too, Levi. I’m so glad to be home…”

He rests his head on your shoulder, purple strands of his hair tickling your cheek.

“Please don’t leave me like that again, MC. I-I was so scared…”

The tremor in his voice causes fresh tears to form in the corner of your eyes.

“Never again, I’m staying right here with you.”

Satan

Satan steps over the pile of books on his floor before flopping down onto his bed.

His bedroom is in quite the disarray due to his last tantrum.

He can’t help that he’s just so damn frustrated!

They’ve practically searched the Devildom inside out, and still… nothing.

He huffs, crossing his arms over his chest as he stares out the window, tears threatening to spill down his cheeks.

He almost doesn’t notice the burst of light filling his bedroom.

The air was practically vibrating with magic when he spun his head around to see the silhouette of a figure in the blinding light.

He squints, trying his best to make out the form. Once the light dissipates, an unfamiliar feeling washes over him.

Satan thought he’s finally experienced every emotion in his lifetime of being in the Devildom.

But what he feels when he sees you standing there in his bedroom is indescribable.

He gasps, immediately jumping up from his bed and hurrying over to you.

Your eyes are locked on him, and he thought he noticed you flinch the moment he approached you.

“MC… are… you okay? Where in the Devildom have you been?”

His voice is soft, but it trembles slightly.

He doesn’t expect answers right away, of course.

Not when you are standing here in front of him for the first time in what feels like an eternity.

You nod, trying to wipe away your tears. “Satan… It’s me. I-I’m home.”

The sound of his name leaving your lips after so long pushes him over the edge.

He pulls you into his arms and he squeezes you tight, finally allowing his tears to fall.

“M-MC… I'm so glad you’re home safe… I was so worried about you…”

You relax against his chest, finally processing the fact that this wasn’t the past version of himself.

After a few moments, you sniff, pulling away from him to gaze into his eyes. You notice a scar on his cheek, still healing from a recent fight he must have had.

You gently trace your fingers over it, and he winces.

“I’m so sorry Satan…the pain that I must have caused you all…”

He shakes his head, glancing away.

“I’m just so relieved you are home, MC. I don’t believe that whatever happened was your fault.”

His fingers run through your hair and he kisses your forehead.

“Can I…kiss you?” you ask, your cheeks flushing slightly. Normally you wouldn’t ask, but it’s been awhile.

“Of course, kitten. But just know if you do, I may not be able to hold myself back from you much longer.”

You give him a smirk, and press your lips firmly to his.

To finally kiss your Satan once more.

He slips his tongue past your lips, and you groan.

When you pull away, his emerald eyes are shining with passion.

“Every book I read told me how to find you, but they never mentioned how to handle your return.”

He moves you to his bed with him so you are straddling his lap.

“But I don’t believe I need any instruction as to what comes next. I love you, MC. Please allow me to express the longing I’ve felt for you all this time.”

Asmodeus

Asmo had made his way to his room for the evening with the overwhelming urge to climb into his silk bed sheets.

But first he really wanted a bath. The thought of the warm water soothing his aching joints was very pleasant to him right now.

He had made his way into the bathroom to start the water, the noise of the faucet drowning out the sound coming from his bedroom.

Asmo thought he heard something, and he lifted his head to the door that connects from the bathroom to his room.

He thought his eyes were playing tricks on him.

Was that a flash of light just now? Is it storming?

He furrowed his brow in confusion, and stepped slowly over to peek through the door.

Nothing could have prepared him for what he saw.

There you were, standing right there in his bedroom.

Your eyes were wide and looking around, still processing where you had appeared.

Asmo gasps, forgetting about the bath and hurries over to you.

“M-MC?!” he shrieks, pulling you into the tightest hug he’s sure he’s ever given.

You begin to cry, tears falling down your cheeks and onto his shoulder.

“Shhh, MC. Don’t cry now, darling…” he coos, but his own tears are escaping him.

He holds you close as you cry together.

“Asmodeus…is… it really you? My Asmo?” you whimper.

He’s confused by what you mean, but he doesn’t question it for now.

“Of course my little lamb, it’s me. You’re home now…”

You sniff, pulling away from him slightly. “I’m so sorry Asmo, I swear I didn’t mean to leave you guys like that…”

Taking your hands in his, he shakes his head. “No no, hon, don’t blame yourself for this. I know there’s a very good reason, but you can explain later to all of us, okay?”

You nod, wiping your eyes.

“I was just about to get a bath. Would you care to join me, MC?”

The thought of taking a bath with Asmo right now feels…unreal.

You couldn’t believe you were finally home with him.

Smiling, he leads you into the bathroom.

First, he steps out of his robe, and your face flushes.

You’ll never get over how beautiful he is.

Then it’s your turn.

You shiver as he begins to undress you, his fingers brushing over your skin.

He smiles softly as he notices the goosebumps that begin to form on your body.

“I’ve missed this so much. Let me get a good look at you, darling.”

His eyes tear up again as his eyes travel over your body, still in disbelief that you were standing right there with him again after so long.

“I need all the time I can get with you right now before my brothers find out you’re home.”

He takes your hand and helps guide you into the bathtub.

You sigh as the warm water envelops you and he places you in between his legs with your back to him.

You feel his arms wrap themselves around you and you blush.“I’ve only been dreaming of this moment with you, MC.” Asmo murmurs, attaching his lips to your shoulder.

You whine as he continues to kiss up your neck.

“I love you so much, Asmo…”

He smiles into the crook of your neck as he holds you close.

“My dear, if anything came out of your disappearance, it’s how much I realized that I love you. Please, allow me to show you…”

Beelzebub and Belphegor

The twins were always together nowadays.

They were both getting ready for bed in their room after their long day, neither of them wanting to speak about the disappointing results of the search.

Belphie hugged his pillow to his chest as he climbed into bed beside Beel.

He was struggling to stay awake, but he had a peculiar feeling in the pit of his stomach.

Of course, being his twin, Beel felt it too. It wasn’t hunger, or anything like that… It was…

“Belphie do you feel…”

Before he could finish, a burst of light filled the room, temporarily blinding them both.

The sensation of magic through the air sent shivers down their spines.

Once the light dulled, they glanced up through squinted eyes to see… you.

Wait, is that really…?

Despite the dull ache in their bodies, they both jump up.

“MC!” their violet eyes are wide as they gape at you, still trying to decide if this was real or a cruel hallucination.

But you seem just as surprised as they are.

Suddenly, you feel yourself being pulled into a strong embrace.

Belphie is squeezed into the hug next to you, and you both glance up to see Beel with tears streaming down his cheeks.

“B-Beel… Belphie…I’ve missed you both so much…”

You sob, burying your face into Beel’s chest.

Belphie finally allows his tears to fall. I’m so lame, he thinks.

How dare you make him cry like this?

But he’s so happy. So relieved.

Beel begins to move you both towards his bed, placing you right between him and his brother.

You whimper as you feel their arms wrap around you.

The thought of being able to do this again with them never even crossed your mind.

You feel Beel nuzzle his face into your hair.

You smelled…different. But there was no denying your familiar scent and it made his mouth water.

Belphie yawned, burying his face into your shoulder.

“Beel and I had each other, but MC… you are our missing piece.”

His twin nodded, placing a soft kiss to your forehead.

“Belphie is right. It feels right again with you here in between us.”

Your heart was so full.

You smiled wide as you kissed both of their foreheads.

“My boys…I love you so much.”

As you laid together, they took turns littering you with kisses and whispering sweet nothings into your ear.

The feeling of their lips and their hands on your body has your head spinning, and you whisper their names between breathless gasps.

After sometime, Beel turned towards you, a glint of mischief in his eyes.

“I’m feeling a bit hungry…but for something different. How about you Belphie?”

Belphie immediately sensed where his twin was going and flashed him a smile back.

“I’m all of a sudden wide awake. What do you say you join us, MC? We want you to ourselves before we have to go back to sharing you.”

2K notes · View notes

spiderin-space · 28 days ago

Text

Spoiling my own next fic a tiny bit

(Feat. @the-one-who-lambs Lamb in the 8th doodle)

#cotl #cult of the lamb #cotl lamb #cotl bishops #cotl goat #cotl oc #first and last sketches are from my upcoming fic shhhhh #no more context #anyways #ik I’ve said this countless times but Pinterest quotes beloved…..#love finding absolutely raw ones and then drawing my blorbos to them 😩#Glimpse into Aynno’s past…. they had it rough before being found by The Lamb ):#also ShamGoat who??#Goat is their kid as they make out with Aynno #It’s my au and I get to pick which parts of canon I ignore‼️‼️#and then I’ve noticed Shamura does a lot of farm work around my cult…….. 🥺🤲#I hc they’re more of a casual gardener though than actually tending to the fields #they have their lil patch of flowers and crops they carefully cultivate to bring home to Aynno 🥺🥺#going through some of my old fics again and reminded of some silly partskdkd #they go eeeeeewwwww >:p #and then FINALLY!! getting around to listening to Hannah’s podfic!!#I’ve been really enjoying it so far hehe :3 #if u see this Hannah keep up the good work I look forward to more content‼️

56 notes · View notes

luminique · 3 months ago

Note

if i may... late night bike rides with lighter 🫶

whether you know how to ride a bike or not, most of the late night bike rides are on his bike. he makes sure that everyone is asleep before heading out with you. this way, he could have your arms wrapped around his waist as he drives out of blazewood. the road is pretty smooth for the most part so he takes this as a chance to sneak his hand onto yours, as if to fix your hand placement. in reality, it’s his way of knowing that you’re there, holding onto him.

it gets colder during the night in the outer ring. no blazing sun, the skies are clear, the iridescent edges of multiple hollows. he knows the perfect spot to stop at that had the best views. he clumsily removes his gloves off before putting a hand out for you to hold as you got off the bike. he has all these sharp parts on his gloves and he does not want you getting poked by it.

the stars twinkled across the night sky, it was breathtaking. with the outer ring depending on oil rigs, carbon emissions were high and yet it seemed like this was the only area untouched by it. your eyes may have been on the stars but his eyes were on you. you’d tell him to take his shades off because what’s the point of wearing them at night but he doesn’t want you to see how smitten he is.

it started off with just sitting on the ground. then it progressed to laying down side by side while talking. after a while, he’d notice your change in speech. how you’re talking slower and quieter. that was when he knew that you were getting a little tired. so as usual, he makes sure you’ve got something comfy under your head.

using his arm, he’d guide you to place your head on it. he’s definitely going insane at this moment but you were too busy trying to fight off your sleepiness to even notice his flushed face. you were practically talking nonsense now at this point and then a sudden silence mid sentence.

he doesn’t dare wake you up, instead choosing to watch you sleep. the way your chest goes up and down with every breath, your body unconsciously moving closer to his, searching for some sort of warmth. with his scarf, he’s slowly wrapping it around your neck instead. it’s not that big but it’s enough for the time being. the sound of your breathing and the sounds of wind in the outer ring, he finds it serene enough to rest his eyes, falling asleep right next to you.

you’re woken up by the soft light of the sunrise, eyelids fluttering open. you don’t see lighter next to you but his scarf is still wrapped around you. his voice calls out to you, casually leaning against his bike. he’s facing the sunrise but his eyes are on you. he wouldn’t mind doing this again, as long as it means he gets to spend time like this with you.

#lumiresponds ˚✧₊⁎☆#lighter zzz #lighter lorenz #zzz lighter #sorry i think i underperformed with this one #i took a while to answer this one #mainly because i had to restart it multiple times #NOT ANON’S FAULT OR ANYTHING I REALLY WANTED TO WRITE THIS #but this one had me stopping and restarting a lot ? idk why #and i’m still quite dissatisfied with it #i love the idea though #also cuz its lighter #and i like thinking about him hehe #ITS SO LONG WTF #i just looked at it again now and DAMN #okay yeah eat up lighter enjoyers i hope you enjoy mhm

93 notes · View notes

geminison · 2 years ago

Text

Daud is introducing Billie to chocolate. Billie doesn't get what the fuss is about

#faces go brrrr #i enjoyed making this hehe #daud is trying... something??#billie warmed up to chocolate later. she likes the bitter one though #you can literally see how the drawing style gets more and more simple with each page #dishonored #daud #billie lurk #art tag #yeah dialogue is clumsy but eh i did my best

498 notes · View notes

bangchangbinnie · 3 days ago

Text

The Name I Can’t Say c.yj (2)

summary: your soulmate’s name appears on your wrist when you turn twenty. you’ve spent your whole life dreaming of the moment you’ll finally see yours—until the ink spells out choi yeonjun, your best friend who doesn’t believe in soulmates.

pairing: childhood best friend!yeonjun x fem!reader

genre: angst, slow burn, soulmate au

This is a continuation to TNICS (here)

————

Y/N hadn’t been expecting him.

Not tonight. Not like this.

She had spent the past two weeks carefully avoiding any situation where he might see her, question her, get too close. She had convinced herself that if she just kept her distance long enough, things would go back to normal. That she could bury the truth so deep inside herself that it would never see the light of day. That she could pretend fate hadn’t decided this for her.

But all that effort had just gone up in flames.

Because now, he was here.

Yeonjun stood in her doorway, shoulders rising and falling with unsteady breaths, his eyes dark with something she couldn’t quite place—anger, hurt, betrayal. His entire body was tense, like he was barely holding himself together, like he had been carrying something too heavy for too long.

And she knew.

He knew.

A wave of panic crashed over her, sharp and overwhelming, making her fingers dig into the wood of the doorframe.

Yeonjun stood before her, his presence suffocating in a way it had never been before. His chest rose and fell with uneven breaths, his knuckles white at his sides. He looked different—like the weight of something unbearable had just settled onto his shoulders, like he was barely keeping himself from unraveling.

The apartment, once familiar and safe, now felt too small, too tight, too full of him.

His eyes—usually warm, usually laced with teasing amusement—were dark with something else entirely. Something raw. Something breaking.

And then, he spoke.

His voice wasn’t loud. It wasn’t angry, but it hit harder than if he had shouted.

“You knew.”

Y/N’s stomach twisted painfully, a deep, sinking feeling clawing at her ribs. She opened her mouth, scrambling for something to say—anything—but her throat closed up, trapping the words inside.

Yeonjun exhaled sharply, the sound almost like a laugh—except it wasn’t amused. It was disbelieving, unsteady.

And then, he stepped forward.

Not in the lazy, effortless way he usually moved, but more deliberate.

“How long?” he asked, his voice tight. His hands flexed at his sides, like he was holding himself back—from what, she didn’t know. She swallowed hard, her pulse roaring in her ears, forcing herself to meet his gaze.

“About 3 weeks”

His face changed.

His expression didn’t shift in the way it usually did—no sarcastic quip, no teasing smirk, no easy dismissal. It was slower than that, like the words were sinking in one by one, like they were physically pushing the air from his lungs.

The muscle in his jaw tensed. His lips parted slightly, but no words came out.

And for the first time in her life, she watched Yeonjun become completely, utterly speechless.

The moment those words left her lips, she watched something flicker behind his eyes—something sharp and raw, like a wound being ripped open, like she had just confirmed the very thing he had been afraid of.

For a second, he didn’t move. Didn’t breathe.

Then, the tension in his body snapped.

“Three weeks?” he repeated, his voice eerily calm, but it didn’t last. A sharp, humorless laugh tore from his throat, but there was no amusement in it—only disbelief, only something that barely masked the hurt beneath.

He shook his head, dragging a hand through his hair, the way he always did when he was trying to make sense of something that didn’t make sense at all.

“You’ve known for three weeks,” he said again, slower this time, as if saying it out loud would somehow change it, as if it might rewrite reality into something he could understand. His voice turned tight, clipped, strained. “And you didn’t think to tell me?”

“Yeonjun—” But he wasn’t listening.

His frustration spilled over, his voice rising, his words cutting through the space between them like a blade.

“You’ve been acting weird. Avoiding me. Lying to me.” He let out a breath, sharp and uneven, his hands curling into fists. His eyes burned into hers, searching for something—an answer, an excuse, anything that might make this hurt less. “And the whole time, it was this?”

Y/N flinched, her fingers gripping the hem of her sweater so tightly that she thought the fabric might tear, but she forced herself to stand her ground.

Because what else could she do? What could she even say?

That she had tried? That every single day since the mark had appeared, she had thought about telling him but had swallowed the words instead?

That she had spent years falling for him only to have fate confirm what her heart had already known—but instead of joy, it had only brought her fear?

That she had known—from the very beginning—that if Yeonjun ever found out, this moment would play out exactly like this?

That no matter how much she had wanted to be his soulmate, she had never once believed he would want to be hers?

The words swelled in her throat, burning, suffocating��

But in the face of his anger, his betrayal, his pain—

She couldn’t bring herself to say any of them.

“Why?” Yeonjun exhaled sharply, his voice quieter now. “Why wouldn’t you tell me?”

Because you don’t want me.

Because you already said you’d ignore it.

Because I knew this was exactly how you would react.

The words pressed against the inside of her throat, but she couldn’t say them. Instead, she gave him the only truth she could. “Because I was scared.”

Yeonjun stilled. The anger on his face wavered, his lips parting slightly like he hadn’t been expecting that answer.

Y/N’s hands trembled at her sides. “I didn’t want things to change,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “I didn’t want to lose you.”

Yeonjun let out a sharp breath, pressing his palm against his forehead as if he could physically push away the pounding in his skull. His fingers dragged through his hair, tugging slightly at the strands, his entire body tense like he was holding something back—anger, disbelief, maybe even something dangerously close to hurt.

“Damn it, Y/N,” he muttered, his voice low but edged with frustration, with something he wasn’t sure he even had the words for. It wasn’t just anger—it was exasperation, confusion, something raw sitting in his chest like a weight he didn’t know how to carry.

He dropped his hand to his side, his eyes burning into hers, jaw clenched so tightly it looked like he might shatter if he let himself feel too much.

Like if he didn’t keep himself together, he might break completely.

Tears burned at the back of her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. “You said it yourself, Yeonjun,” she whispered. “You don’t want a soulmate.”

His jaw clenched. “That’s not—”

You don’t believe in fate.” Y/N’s voice was quiet, but it cut through the space between them like a blade. Sharp. Final.

Yeonjun stilled, his jaw tightening, but she didn’t stop.

“You never have,” she continued, her voice trembling, but she forced herself to keep going. Forced herself to say the words that had haunted her since the moment she saw his name on her wrist. “You told me—you told me you’d ignore it.”

The second those words left her lips, she saw it.

The flicker in his eyes, the slight parting of his lips, the way his shoulders tensed like she had just landed a blow he wasn’t ready for. Like she had taken the very thing he had said so easily before and thrown it back at him, forcing him to taste the bitterness of it.

And she wished she didn’t see it.

Because if she could see it, if she could see the way it hurt him—then maybe, just maybe, part of him knew she was right.

Silence.

It stretched between them, thick and suffocating, until Y/N thought she might collapse under the weight of it.

Yeonjun looked away first. His fingers flexed at his sides, his entire body so tense, like he wanted to say something but couldn’t find the words.

And then, after a long moment, he muttered, “Do you really think so little of me?”

Y/N’s breath hitched, the sound barely audible over the tense silence between them. Her heart slammed against her ribs, a frantic, uneven rhythm that made her feel unsteady, like the ground beneath her had just cracked open.

“What?” she whispered, but it came out more like a breath than an actual word—like she wasn’t sure she wanted to hear the answer.

She searched his face, desperate for something—a hesitation, a regret, anything that might soften the weight of what he had just said.

But Yeonjun’s expression remained unreadable, his lips pressed into a tight line, his eyes dark, guarded. Like he was bracing himself for something, like he had already decided what this meant for both of them.

And that terrified her more than anything

“That I wouldn’t even get a choice?” His voice wasn’t loud, but it cut through her all the same. “That you just decided for me?”

She squeezed her eyes shut, her heart twisting violently inside her chest. “It wasn’t like that,” she murmured.

“Then what was it like?” Yeonjun asked, stepping closer. His eyes burned into hers, searching—begging for something to make this make sense. “Because from where I’m standing, it feels like you just—” He let out a shaky exhale, his voice breaking slightly. “Like you didn’t trust me enough to let me figure it out for myself.”

Her breath caught. It wasn’t about trust. It was about fear.

It was about knowing that no matter what choice he was given, he wouldn’t have chosen her.

But how was she supposed to say that?

How was she supposed to look at him and admit that she had spent years watching him run from love, watching him walk away from every girl who ever got too close, and she had been terrified of becoming one of them?

Yeonjun exhaled through his nose, his jaw clenching. “I don’t—” He stopped himself, pressing his lips into a tight line before finally muttering, “I need a second.”

And just like that—before she could stop him, before she could say anything—he was gone.

The door clicked shut behind him, and Y/N stood there, heart pounding, her whole world unraveling around her.

For weeks, she had been afraid of losing him.

And now, it felt like she just had.

Y/N didn’t know how long she stood there.

The air in the apartment felt thick, suffocating, pressing in on her from all sides. The last of Yeonjun’s words still echoed in her head, over and over, like a wound that refused to close.

She could still see the look in his eyes before he left—the rawness of it, the disbelief, the hurt buried beneath the frustration.

She had done this. She had broken something between them.

Her legs felt weak as she backed up, pressing her hands against the kitchen counter for support, trying to ground herself—but nothing worked. Because no matter how much she tried to steady herself, the truth was still there, undeniable and irreversible.

He knew.

And now, she had no idea if he would ever look at her the same way again.

Yeonjun didn’t go home.

He walked. The streets were nearly empty this late at night, the cold air biting at his skin, but he barely felt it. His thoughts were too loud, too consuming, spinning in circles he couldn’t break out of.

Y/N had known. For three weeks.

Three whole weeks of silence, of awkward tension, of her dodging his eyes like she was hiding a secret too big to be spoken.

Because she was, and all this time, he had been going crazy trying to figure out what had changed between them, only to find out she had known something that could’ve changed his entire life—and she hadn’t told him.

His fingers curled into fists, his pulse hammering beneath his skin. He wasn’t even sure what pissed him off more—the fact that she had kept it from him, or the fact that she had decided for him.

That she had made up her mind about how he would react before he even got the chance to process it for himself.

His soulmate.

She was his soulmate.

And she had been too afraid to tell him. That part—that part hurt the most. Because it meant she truly believed he wouldn’t have wanted her.

That she thought he would take one look at the mark on his wrist and turn his back on her. Was that really how little she thought of him?

Yeonjun exhaled harshly, raking his fingers through his hair.

No.

No, that wasn’t fair.

She hadn’t done this to hurt him. She had done this because she was scared. Scared of what this meant. Scared of losing their friendship. Scared of how he would react.

And the worst part? She wasn’t wrong.

Yeonjun had spent years saying he didn’t believe in fate. He had spent his entire life treating soulmates like they were just another expectation he never asked for. So maybe she hadn’t been wrong to think he wouldn’t want this.

Maybe she had just been protecting herself from something she thought was inevitable.

His chest ached, frustration bleeding into something heavier, something he didn’t know how to name.

Because no matter how angry he was, no matter how much he hated that she had lied to him—

None of it changed the fact that it was her. It had always been her, and now, he had no idea what to do about it.

“You look like you haven’t slept in days.”

Y/N blinked, her mind sluggish, barely registering Beomgyu’s voice before he dropped down onto the park bench beside her with his usual effortless ease. The wood creaked slightly beneath his weight, and before she could react, he tossed a crinkling bag of snacks into her lap—a silent offering, one that carried more understanding than she was willing to admit.

She sighed, her fingers tracing the ridges of the packaging, rolling the unopened bag between her hands as if the repetitive motion could settle the storm inside her. “That obvious?”

Beomgyu snorted, his laugh short and knowing. “Painfully.”

He stretched out, his arms draping over the backrest like he had all the time in the world, his posture relaxed despite the underlying tension in the air. But Y/N knew Beomgyu—he wasn’t just here to keep her company. He was here to pull apart whatever mess she was tangled in.

“So.” His voice was casual, but his sharp eyes didn’t miss a thing. “You finally told him?”

Her entire body went still.

The cool breeze drifting through the park suddenly felt colder. Her grip on the snack bag tightened, the plastic crinkling under her fingers.

She didn’t answer. She didn’t have to.

Beomgyu exhaled through his nose, the sound soft but weighted, like he had already expected this outcome. He shook his head, tilting his gaze up toward the sky, the late afternoon light casting long shadows across the pavement.

“And it went exactly how you thought it would.”

His voice wasn’t mocking, wasn’t judgmental. It was simply factual. Like this was the inevitable result, like she had been walking toward this moment all along, step by step, with no way to turn back.

Y/N swallowed hard, blinking rapidly as she stared at the ground. Yeah. It did.

Her hands curled around the edges of her sleeves, knuckles turning white as she tugged them down, an old habit resurfacing under the weight of everything pressing against her chest. The fabric felt heavy against her skin, shielding the mark that had done nothing but remind her of the storm she had caused.

It had been burning ever since Yeonjun found out—not in the way that left scars, not in the way that could be soothed with a touch, but in the way that mattered.

Like a wound left open. Like it knew the damage had already been done. She let out a slow, shaky breath, her voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t know what to do.”

It was the truth, stripped bare, a confession she hadn’t even wanted to admit to herself. Her world had cracked, splintered at the seams, and she wasn’t sure if it was something that could ever be pieced back together.

She bit her lip, her throat tightening. “He was—he was angry, but he was hurt, too.” She paused, swallowing hard, blinking against the weight behind her eyes. “I think I really broke something between us.”

Beomgyu didn’t answer right away. Instead, he studied her, his gaze steady and unreadable, as if weighing her words, as if trying to decide whether she was saying them because she truly believed them or because she was too afraid of the alternative.

Then, he let out a small sigh—one that carried more understanding than pity, more knowing than judgment.

“I think you’re both just scared,” he said finally, his voice even. Y/N’s breath hitched slightly, her fingers tightening around the sleeve of her sweater.

“Him,” Beomgyu continued, “because he doesn’t know how to deal with something this big. And you…” He exhaled, shaking his head slightly. “Because you never expected him to want this.”

A sharp, twisting ache curled in her stomach.

She forced out a small, brittle laugh, but it tasted bitter on her tongue. “Because he doesn’t.”

Beomgyu didn’t react the way she expected—he didn’t agree, didn’t say something comforting just to make her feel better. Instead, he raised an eyebrow.

“Are you sure about that?”

Y/N stilled.

Her grip on her sleeves faltered slightly, her breath catching in her throat as his words settled in her chest.

Was she? Because the way Yeonjun had looked at her last night—the sharp confusion in his eyes, the way frustration bled into something that looked almost like hesitation, the way he seemed like he had lost control of something he hadn’t even known he was holding—

It didn’t feel like rejection. It felt like something else entirely.

Y/N rubbed a tired hand over her face, exhaustion clinging to her bones like a second skin. “I don’t know,” she muttered, shaking her head slightly. Her voice sounded too fragile, too uncertain, and she hated it. “I just… I don’t know if things will ever go back to the way they were.”

Beomgyu let out a quiet chuckle, shaking his head as if she had just said something naive. “They won’t,” he said simply.

Y/N turned to him, something heavy pressing against her chest. “I figured.” But Beomgyu didn’t look at her with sympathy.

Instead, he gave her a small, almost amused smile, one that held something close to certainty. “That’s not always a bad thing, you know.”

Y/N didn’t answer.

Because the truth was, she wasn’t sure what scared her more—losing Yeonjun completely, or finding out that maybe, just maybe, this could be something more.

“I don’t know what to do.”

Yeonjun let out a long, uneven breath, his gaze locked on the ink staining his wrist like it held the answers he so desperately needed. The name—her name—stood out against his skin, as if it had always been there, waiting for him to notice.

But he hadn’t noticed. Not until it was too late.

The realization sat heavy in his chest, an unbearable weight pressing against his ribs, making it impossible to think straight.

Across from him, Soobin raised a single brow before lazily bringing his iced coffee to his lips, taking a slow sip like he had all the time in the world.

“You?” Soobin finally said, setting his cup down with a small thunk against the wooden table. “Choi Yeonjun? The guy who always acts like he has everything figured out?” He crossed his arms, leaning back. “Man, this must be bad.”

Yeonjun scowled, the comment barely registering beneath the storm in his head. “Not helping.” Soobin shrugged, unfazed. “Alright, fine. You’re talking, so I’m listening. What exactly are you confused about?”

Yeonjun let out a breath, his fingers twitching at his sides as his mind replayed the same scene over and over—the moment Y/N had looked at him with guilt in her eyes, the way her voice had trembled when she finally admitted it.

“Three weeks.”

Three weeks of silence. Three weeks of avoiding him.

Three weeks of knowing they were meant to be—and never saying a word.

His jaw clenched. “I don’t get why she didn’t tell me.”

Soobin hummed, tilting his head slightly as he studied him. “You sure about that?” Yeonjun opened his mouth to argue, to throw back some frustrated response about how of course, he wasn’t sure—none of this made any sense—

But then Soobin just raised an eyebrow, waiting.

And the words died before they could even form. Deep down, he knew. He knew exactly why Y/N hadn’t told him. She had been afraid.

Afraid of losing him. Afraid of how he would react. Afraid that he would take one look at the mark and walk away. That was what hurt the most.

Not that she had kept it from him. Not even that it had taken this long for him to find out, but that she had believed—truly believed—that he wouldn’t want her.

Maybe… maybe she hadn’t been wrong to think that. Yeonjun swallowed hard, rubbing a hand over his face, frustration bubbling beneath the surface of his skin. He had spent so long saying he didn’t believe in fate, saying that soulmates weren’t something he needed—

And she had believed him.

Believed him enough to hide something that had changed everything.

He leaned back against the bench, exhaling sharply, his head tilting back as he stared up at the sky, searching for something he knew he wouldn’t find.

“I don’t want to lose her.” The words slipped out before he could stop them—so quiet that if it had been anyone else sitting across from him, they might not have heard.

But this was Soobin, and Soobin had always been able to read between the lines. He nodded, his expression thoughtful, his gaze steady. “Then don’t.”

Yeonjun let out a humorless scoff, shaking his head. “It’s not that simple.”

“Isn’t it?” Soobin leaned forward slightly, resting his arms on his knees, his voice calm but firm. “You’re making this harder than it has to be. You already know she’s important to you. The mark doesn’t change that.”

Yeonjun didn’t say anything for a while. A small pause laid between them for a moment before soobin tilted his head slightly and finally spoke again. “It just means she was always meant to be.”

Silence settled between them, heavy and unmoving.

Yeonjun stared at the ground, something tightening in his chest, his pulse thrumming against his wrist like it was trying to remind him of something he wasn’t ready to accept. She was always meant to be.

He had spent years running from the idea of soulmates, from the weight of expectations, from the fear of not getting to choose his own fate.

But now, standing at the edge of something undeniable, something that had been in front of him all along— Maybe he had never really been running from soulmates.

Maybe he had just been running from her. Yeonjun’s throat felt tight, his mind a mess of contradictions. “Yeah,” he muttered, voice rough, barely audible.

“I guess I just never thought about it like that before.” Soobin gave him a small, knowing smile, shaking his head.

“Then maybe it’s time you do.”

She hadn’t meant to see him today.

She had spent the last two weeks avoiding places he might be—dodging plans, keeping herself busy, always making sure there was enough distance between them so she wouldn’t have to face the look in his eyes again, but fate had other plans.

The bookstore was quiet, the scent of old paper and fresh coffee lingering in the air. Y/N had been staring at the same page of a book for the past five minutes, her mind somewhere else entirely, when a familiar presence washed over her.

She didn’t even have to turn around. She knew.

Yeonjun was here.

Her grip tightened around the book, her heart hammering in her chest as she forced herself to breathe. She debated running—grabbing her things and pretending she had never been here in the first place—but it was too late.

The moment she glanced up, their eyes met. For the first time in weeks.

And everything froze.

He was standing a few aisles away, a book in his hand, his fingers curled loosely around the spine like he had just picked it up without thinking. He wasn’t even looking at it.

He was looking at her. Y/N’s breath hitched. She could see the hesitation in his posture, the way his shoulders tensed, like he was debating whether to say something or pretend this wasn’t happening. Like he was just as lost as she was.

A beat of silence passed. Then another, and then, he did something she hadn’t expected. He gave her a nod. Just a small, subtle tilt of his head—acknowledgment, nothing more. Like they were strangers. Like they hadn’t been everything to each other just weeks ago.

Y/N felt something ache deep inside her, something raw and unfamiliar.

She hesitated, gripping the book in her hands like it was an anchor, and then—before she could think too hard about it—she nodded back.

And just like that, the moment passed.

Yeonjun blinked, his lips pressing together for half a second—like he wanted to say something, but couldn’t find the words.

Then he looked away. Turned. Walked past her without another word, disappearing into another aisle.

Y/N exhaled, her fingers trembling slightly as she set the book back on the shelf, realizing she hadn’t even been reading it.

He hadn’t meant to see her today.

He had only come to the bookstore to clear his head, to do anything other than sit in his apartment, drowning in thoughts that led nowhere, thoughts that started and ended with her, but the second he walked inside and saw her, everything else faded.

Y/N.

Standing just a few aisles away, fingers curled loosely around a book she wasn’t really reading, her lips pressed together like she was holding something in.

Existing in the same space as him for the first time in weeks. Yeonjun stopped breathing. She looked the same—but at the same time, she didn’t.

Her hair fell the way it always did, her posture relaxed but too still, too careful. She wasn’t hiding from him the way she had before, but she wasn’t reaching for him either.

There was a distance between them now, a thin but impenetrable line, and she was standing on the other side of it, and maybe that was what made it worse.

She wasn’t running. She had already left.

She looked like someone who had been carrying something too heavy for too long—someone who had long since accepted the weight of it. Someone who had already braced themselves for what came next.

That realization settled in his chest like an ache he didn’t know how to soothe. When their eyes met, something sharp pulled inside him.

The way her fingers flexed around the book, like she needed something to hold onto. The way her breath caught—the way she still reacted to him, even now, but she didn’t move. She didn’t look away.

She just stood there, frozen in the middle of an ordinary afternoon, staring at him like he was something out of a past life.

For the first time, Yeonjun didn’t know what to do. He thought about saying something—anything.

Something casual, something light enough to make this moment pass without breaking anything more than it already had. Maybe a simple “Hey,” or “How have you been?”—but the words felt too shallow, too meaningless for what they had become.

Because nothing about this was casual. Nothing about this was light. There were no words big enough to undo the silence that had stretched between them for weeks.

So he said nothing at all. He just nodded. A brief, wordless acknowledgment—as if that was all they were now.

Like two people passing each other in a dream. Two people who used to know each other but no longer did.

And when she nodded back—hesitant, distant—he knew this was their new reality.

She wasn’t avoiding him anymore. She wasn’t waiting. She had already let go.

Yeonjun felt something crack inside him, but he forced his feet to move, forcing himself to do the same. He looked away first. Walked past her without another word, disappearing into another aisle.

He had spent days wondering what he would say to her when they finally saw each other again. Turns out, it didn’t matter, because neither of them said anything at all.

Y/N hadn’t been expecting company.

She definitely hadn’t been expecting Beomgyu to show up at her apartment unannounced, carrying bags of takeout in one hand and a stack of DVDs in the other, looking entirely too pleased with himself.

She blinked at him from the doorway, still wrapped in the oversized sweater she’d been lounging in all day. “What… are you doing?”

Beomgyu didn’t bother answering—he just walked past her like he owned the place, dropping the food onto her coffee table before dramatically collapsing onto her couch.

“Saving you from yourself,” he declared, kicking his feet up like he had all the time in the world. Y/N shut the door, narrowing her eyes at him. “I don’t need saving.”

Beomgyu scoffed. “Right. And I’m in a happy, healthy relationship.” He patted the space next to him. “Come sit. I brought your favorite.”

She eyed the takeout bags suspiciously. “…Did you actually get my favorite or did you just buy whatever sounded good to you?”

Beomgyu gasped, hand to his chest. “How dare you? I am a man of integrity.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, but the corner of her lips twitched against her will. Beomgyu noticed, because of course he did, and shot her a smug grin.

“See? You’re already in a better mood.” She sighed, but it was more of an exhale of relief than anything else. It had been weeks since she had felt this—this lightness, this sense of normalcy. Like the weight of everything with Yeonjun had been momentarily set aside.

Beomgyu stretched out, holding up the stack of DVDs. “Alright. Tonight’s theme is cinematic masterpieces.”

Y/N arched a brow. “And by that you mean…?” He smirked, revealing the first movie—Sharknado.

Y/N groaned. “Beomgyu. No.”

“Beomgyu. Yes.” He replies, holding a shit-eating grin.

She shook her head, grabbing one of the takeout boxes and plopping down beside him. “You have the worst taste.”

“Bold of you to say when you’re about to enjoy this award-worthy film.” He unwrapped his chopsticks, bumping his knee against hers. “You can thank me later.” Y/N sighed, letting herself sink into the couch.

For the first time in weeks, she felt something familiar. Something almost like before.

The movie had been playing for at least twenty minutes, but Y/N hadn’t absorbed a single second of it.

The chaotic action sequences, the exaggerated dialogue, the absolutely ridiculous premise—normally, it would have been enough to pull her in, to at least serve as a temporary distraction, but her mind was somewhere else.

Her half-eaten food sat forgotten on the coffee table, condensation from her drink pooling into a ring on the surface. She was curled into the couch, her knees tucked loosely against her chest, her fingers absently picking at a loose thread on her sweater sleeve, and she was a thousand miles away.

Beomgyu noticed. Of course he did.

His gaze flickered to her for the third time in five minutes, his usual amusement dimming into something closer to curiosity. He didn’t say anything at first, just studied her for a moment, waiting to see if she would snap out of it on her own. She didn’t.

With an exaggerated sigh, he grabbed the remote and paused the movie, the screen freezing on a particularly absurd shot of a CGI shark mid-air.

The sudden silence jolted her back into reality. Y/N blinked, momentarily disoriented. “What—?”

Beomgyu tossed the remote onto the couch and turned to face her fully, arms crossed. “Alright, spill.”

Her brows furrowed. “Spill what?”

Beomgyu gave her a deadpan look. “You’ve been zoning out this whole time, and not even Sharknado can hold your attention?” He raised a brow, leaning forward slightly. “That means something is very wrong.”

Y/N parted her lips to argue, but nothing came out.

Because… he wasn’t wrong. And the worst part? She already knew exactly what was keeping her distracted.

She hesitated, pulling her knees closer to her chest, the fabric of her sweater bunched beneath her fingers as she gripped the sleeves. The warmth of the room, the soft glow of the lamp, the distant hum of the paused movie—it all felt distant, like white noise against the storm inside her head.

Beomgyu arched a brow, shifting slightly so he could face her fully. His expression was expectant, but not pushy—a careful balance of patience and amusement.

“Let me guess.” He hummed in thought, tapping his fingers against his knee before answering his own question.

“Yeonjun.”

Y/N let out a slow, tired sigh, slumping further into the cushions. The weight of his name alone was enough to press against her chest, making it harder to breathe.“It’s stupid,” she muttered.

“That’s never stopped you before,” Beomgyu quipped, grinning as he dodged the weak punch she aimed at his shoulder. Still, she hesitated.

Because saying it out loud made it real. And if it was real, then she would have to actually deal with it, but this was Beomgyu.

He had been there through everything—the good, the bad, the moments in between. He had seen her at her best, her worst, and all the messy parts in between. If there was anyone she could tell, it was him.

And besides—he wasn’t going to let this go.

She exhaled through her nose, her gaze dropping to the coffee table, tracing the condensation rings left behind by their drinks. “I saw him today.”

Beomgyu, who had been lounging comfortably just seconds ago, immediately straightened, his expression shifting from playful to genuinely intrigued.

“And?” Y/N’s fingers curled into the fabric of her sleeves. “And… it was weird,” she admitted, the words coming out slower than she intended. She chewed on the inside of her cheek, trying to find the right way to say it, but there wasn’t one.

Because what was she supposed to say?

That for weeks she had been dreading the moment she would see him again? That she had imagined it a thousand different ways—some good, some bad, but none of them like this?

She swallowed, forcing herself to meet Beomgyu’s gaze. “It was like we were strangers.”

Beomgyu didn’t say anything right away. He just watched her, taking in the way her voice had softened at the end, the way her shoulders seemed to sink under the weight of something too heavy to carry alone.

Then, finally, he leaned back, stretching his arms over the couch.

“Damn,” he said, dragging out the word. “That’s rough, buddy.” Y/N let out a groan, shoving a throw pillow into his face.

Because, of course, this was Beomgyu’s response.

She shot him an unimpressed look, arms crossed tightly over her chest. “Really?”

Beomgyu only grinned, entirely unfazed. “What do you want me to say? Wow, Y/N, that sucks, but I bet if you just talked to him like a normal person, this whole problem would disappear?”

Y/N groaned, dragging a hand over her face. Because, as much as she hated to admit it—he wasn’t wrong, but just the thought of facing Yeonjun again, of breaking past the awkward distance that had settled between them, made something twist uncomfortably in her chest.

“You make it sound so easy,” she muttered.

“That’s because it is.” Beomgyu shrugged like it was the simplest thing in the world. “I mean, what’s stopping you from calling him right now?”

She scoffed, waving a dismissive hand. “Yeah, right.” Beomgyu’s grin turned mischievous in an instant, and before Y/N could process the warning signs, he was suddenly reaching for his phone.

“You want me to do it?” Her entire body went rigid.

Her eyes widened in horror as she lunged forward, already reaching for the device in his hand before he could even think about unlocking it.

“Beomgyu. No.” But it was too late.

His thumb casually, effortlessly, recklessly pressed the call button, and before she could even begin to yell at him, the line started ringing.

Y/N’s stomach plummeted. Her heart stopped. Beomgyu’s own eyes widened as if he had just realized exactly what he’d done.

“Oh,” he said, a little too slowly. Then, grinning sheepishly—

“Oops.”

“Beomgyu, you idiot—”

Panic surged through her, and she lunged, scrambling over the couch, fingers grasping desperately for his phone.

Beomgyu, being the absolute menace that he was, only leaned back further, holding the phone just out of her reach, grinning like this was the most entertainment he’d had in weeks.

“Oops?” she hissed through gritted teeth, practically climbing over him now, her weight pressing against his shoulder as she stretched her arm out further. “End it!”

Beomgyu laughed, effortlessly dodging her flailing hands. “I mean, technically, this is your fault for not calling him sooner,” he teased, twisting just enough to make her struggle even harder. “I’m simply moving the plot along—”

Before she could pry the phone from his grasp, before she could hang up, delete the call history, and potentially throw Beomgyu out the window for good measure—

The ringing stopped.

A pause. A breath. And then—

“…Hello?”

Y/N froze. Beomgyu cackled.

And just like that, she was trapped.

Her heartbeat roared in her ears, her throat suddenly dry, too tight, too frozen to form words. Her hand, which had been gripping Beomgyu’s wrist, slowly dropped away as her brain struggled to catch up to the reality of the situation.

This was happening. Yeonjun was on the other end of the line. She had no way out.

She swallowed, her fingers curling against the couch cushions, forcing herself to speak, forcing her voice to work.

“…Yeonjun?”

The silence on the other end stretched just long enough to make her wonder if he was about to hang up.

Then, soft but cautious—like he hadn’t expected to hear her voice tonight, like he wasn’t sure if this was a mistake or a second chance

“Y/N?”

And just like that, there was no turning back.

—————

AN: mwahahaha. Cliffhanger 😈. Part three will be out soon (hopefully) once again, hope you all enjoyed this ❤️

Taglist: @c9b7luv @hyueika (thank you both for leaving feedback! It’s very appreciated! ❤️❤️)

#txt #txt imagine #txt angst #yeonjun angst #yeonjun imagines #yeonjun imagine #yeonjun #stayed up most of the night to write this (I am sleep deprived)#(I enjoyed it though hehe)#s writes 😛

33 notes · View notes

sysig · 2 months ago

Photo

If it’s not you, what’s the point! (Patreon)

#Doodles #Pokemon #Larry #Kabu #Firebland #Silverstreakshipping #Same topic and very different approaches #Larry enjoys being Normal - prefers the quiet and simple and nothing-special - seems to have a good relationship with it!#Genuinely and whole-heartedly engages with normalcy because he Wants to! But there's still a good bit to be read into if you wanted hmm #Even if it wasn't a matter of settling or feeling as though he deserves nothing more - I mean Normal is plenty good lol #I've gone into it more in Charm's self-image and philosophy - it's an interesting idea to me!#But even if it's Not That lol - everyone feels down sometimes! And even the things one likes about themself can become ugly and unflattering #Larry's Just A Guy - and while that's normally how he likes it how might that feel up against Kabu's brightly lit backdrop #Things he can never be because it just isn't who he is - does that make him not count?#Preposterous from the outside but real on the inside - feelings and all their mushy-gushy malleable uncertainty #Ditto of feelings! Lol #Kabu of course thinks he's exceptional ♥ Like it's even a question!#And even if he wasn't - obviously - he still is to Kabu in specific - again because of who he is ♪#The cheering is worthwhile because it's Him - both of them #And then the other way around haha - and also fluffed in bed hehe #Larry doesn't want for much just one person's attention on him ♪ Kabu's worth so many more on his lonesome! No need to overdo it #And of course his slightly oblivious way of delivering straight-faced confessions of love haha #''Why are we arguing about this was I not clear enough? I'll try again'' to Kabu's continual flustering hehe #Good luck you two

41 notes · View notes

toriylgr · 1 month ago

Text

"i don't think this asparagus has the energy left to withstand that, do you?"

#rip to the quality once this uploads #gege akutami #jjk fanart #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #satoru gojo #gojo satoru #jjk gojo #jjk satoru #jujutsu kaisen fanart #jjk hanami #toriylgr art #feral gojo i love you #i enjoyed making this but it did take forever #it never stops me though #i shall be making more hehe #satoru i miss you sobs

39 notes · View notes

spotaus · 23 days ago

Text

New Age AU Drabble (Lonely)

Hello everyone!! Welcome to the next drabble I swore I was going to write! This one I'm very fond of, because it involves the two who kickstarted this whole thing, the King and his Royal Mage (in-training)-

This happens some time after Nightmare's reversal to his new age, so it's basically the next one in chronological order for the main story drabbles!

@ancha-aus @mutzelputz @papiliovolens Hi guys!! Welcome back :)

Ping

Error glanced up from his project when the little tingle of his magic blinked into his awareness. Someone’s outside? He looked over at the heavy door that separated the cool space of his study from the stairs which led down to the main floors of the castle. On his end, it was absolutely tangled in blue wires, like his own little spider web. Though, to be fair, the rest of the room wasn’t faring much better. He’d certainly taken the chance to make the space his. The king had told him to, after all! Much better than the tidy room his brothers always made him help clean…

Blue strings lashed out from the ceiling and wrapped around his current project, wrapping securely around it before tugging it, his knitting needles, and the notes he had scattered all up into the loft space shrouded in shadow above him. It was just a lot safer to keep all his projects up there, out of his way until he needed them. Out of sight of his rare visitors. He couldn’t show them something that wasn’t ready! That would be embarrassing! Not Royal Wizard behavior at all.

As his project rose, Error rolled onto his back, popping his spine before making an effor to stand up himself. How long had he been laying there? Normally he’d have been up in one of his hammocks, but this project required he keep it level until a later step, so he’d decided that the soft rug on the floor and a few blankets would have to suffice. Had it been an hour or two? Knowing him, probably much longer. He didn’t like pulling back the curtains, his strings didn’t glow in the darkness if he did. Infusing magic worked a lot easier for him in the dark.

He glanced to the door again. Thirty seconds and there hadn’t been any more pings? It had to be someone he actually halfway wanted to see, then. Darn.

Error crossed the space, stepping over a few loose supplies, and around a few of his hanging strings, until he came to the door. As much as he wished he could ignore this person, he knew better. So, he gripped the solid iron handle and swung the door inwards towards him.

Stood outside on the landing of the stairs was Sir Dust.

He wasn’t an unwelcome sight, but he definitely wasn’t an expected one either. Lately, it’d been that Ccino guy showing up to his door unannounced, bringing him meals or just checking in on him. Sir Dust had been there the day he was hired, the knight doing his best to encourage Error to not make stupid, rash choices. Fortunately, given that chance to think, Error had been able to return with a smart and rash choice instead! Which, might he add, landed him this sweet gig for royalty. That was why, when Dust came around, Error didn’t turn him away. His magic was powerful, and despite being small, he was really cool.

“Error.” Sir Dust greeted. “Brought dinner. Ccino’s been busy.”

Sir Dust was always blunt. Even that first day they met, when he’d spoken more than a few words he’d seemed strained. Uncomfortable. He was comfortable here in his home territory.

And, he wasn’t lying! Error hadn’t even noticed it, but when he looked down, his eyelights honed in on the plate held easily in one of Dust’s hands, and a jug held in the other to his side.

Error was quick to lean out the doorway with a grin and snatch up the plate, careful not to make contact with Dust’s hands. He’d abandoned his glasses somewhere behind him in the room, so he had to raise the plate closer to his face before he recognized the contents.

“Noodles, sweet!” He half-whispered to himself.

His hand moved, gesturing out towards Dust. More of his strings shot past, from somewhere in the room, and clutched the jug before tugging it back inside with a flick of Error’s free hand.

“Ccino told me to tell you: Drink that water. You’ll get dehydrated.” Dust voiced, watching unbothered as the jug was tugged back and out of his view.

Error glanced up at him, and scoffed. Ccino had been doing his best to get Error to drink more tea with him because tea had water. Error was fine! He didn’t need as much water or food as an average monster, it was normal! Besides, he’d forget about it anyways.

“Okay. Thanks!” he said anyways. Though, it was mostly thanks for the food. Error loved when Ccino made noodles. They were always buttery, and Error wasn’t sure how he always made something that looked so bland taste so good. …Now his mouth was watering. Maybe he was a little hungry after all.

Error waited for Dust to start making his decent back down the stairs, but when he saw the monster was still stood still and quiet, he raised a brow. Was there something else? Had to be. He hoped Dust didn’t want inside. Error had all the plans to devour this food and then dive headfirst back into his project. He didn’t want to be distracted.

“One more message.” Dust said, watching Error. His white eyelights were clear under his hood. Error didn’t think he was wearing his mask, but even with the soft glow from his web of strings he couldn’t tell in the shadows. Didn’t matter to him either way.

“King Nightmare’s rescheduling your next… report.” Dust said plainly.

At that, Error felt his soul stop a bit in his chest. “Why?” He asked without thinking. The King had been listening and seemed interested during his last report! He’d made a lot of progress since then too, finished one of them enough that they could test it! The King had said he was excited to see it! Surely he hadn’t been tossed aside so quickly?

Dust seemed unphased by his demand of an answer.

“The King is just taking time to rest. Last project wore him out.” Dust explained, before he added, “Ccino’s orders. Like drinking your water.”

Error couldn’t tell, not really, but he was pretty sure the knight was grinning at that last part. Ha ha, very funny. Though, he wasn’t wrong. Error was pretty sure the entire castle knew that Ccino guy was in charge of keeping the King in check. Heck, when he’d first been brought in, the King looked worried about introducing him to that Ccino. Error never knew why, they’d gotten along great!

But, if it was Ccino telling the King to take a break? He figured that the King was probably listening. Fair enough. His soul calmed down a little at the rationalization.

“Oh, alright.” Error said finally, “Do you… know when he’ll want the next report by, then?”

He could still plan, right? Maybe it was only a few days.

“Mm, pretty sure Ccino said next month? Gotta catch up on some things. You live here.” Dust replied.

Oh. Okay. Hmm. That was… a lot longer than he’d been hoping for. He could probably manage, though. Keep chugging away at his current project, maybe have time to draft a new one. Bigger? But, wait, the King wanted him to propose any bigger ones to him first. Supposedly he’d be allowed unlimited creative liberties, it was more so if something exploded he’d know what happened, but still. He didn’t want to break the few rules he had. Old projects then! Make them the best ever!

He blinked in surprise when the little ping tingled in his skull.

Dust had turned around without him noticing, a hand extended to just barely nudge one of his hanging strings. He didn’t look back as he spoke.

“Gotta get back to rounds. G’night Error.” He said.

Error watched, disoriented for a second, before he nodded to himself.

“Good night, Sir Dust!” He returned hurriedly.

He watched as the knight started moving, and entirely silently he descended the steps. Only when he had turned the curve out of sight and his shadow disappeared from the wall where torches below cast it, did he pull the door shut and return inside his room.

His steps echoed against the stone floor until he returned to the cushioned rug, and then moved even further past that to one of his low-hanging hammocks.

It was tucked beside a bookshelf that the King had let him stock with whatever books he liked from the library during his first week. The room had been cold and bare, obviously unlived in for a while, and Error didn’t exactly have a lot to move in. Just his spare clothes, the (now empty) pouch he’d been using to store his coin, and the dolls. He’d refused to remove those from his bag until he was alone, though, so he’d really had nothing to call his own. The King had given him the opportunity to collect items like books from the library, had let him choose some items from an incoming shipment of trading goods, and had sent someone to buy any equipment Error might need to advance his magic and creations.

And, for the most part, Error was very self-sufficient. He’d had time to knit himself new clothes, and blankets, and decorate the room entirely with his magic. He spent a lot of time up in the high ceiling too, it was where he kept his dolls, and the projects, and all his important belongings. Everyone once in a while, though, he liked the bookshelf wall. Especially when he was eating. It was just easier to remember not to just hang up the plate among his projects.

Ccino’s cooking was always delicious, Error would never not look forward to a meal made by him, even if it was the lamest sounding food ever. He’d managed to make brussel sprouts tolerable. A feat, honestly. The tastiness and warmth that spread through him couldn’t distract him from his worries, though.

Error knew he’d have to work hard to make sure the King was impressed. But also not too bothered by it. He knows his explosive spells used to make his professors and tutors angry, and while the King had been nice about it so far, if he was tired? Error wouldn’t want to push the limits. But if he was too simply about it or lackluster, the King might be upset he was wasting his time? Ohhh. At least he had a month to work and try things out before then. Hopefully he could have an idea at that point. Hopefully.

…

Ten days.

Error had given it about 5 days after the time that the report was originally meant to happen, five days after Dust told him it’d been rescheduled, before he felt like he might go stir-crazy. Not because he was worried, but because of the exact opposite. He had his few other ongoing projects, mostly if not entirely completed, up to the King’s review. But he’d also developed another, newer, concept that he just knew would brighten the King’s mood.

Dust had been the one periodically bringing him food still, he hadn’t seen Ccino, and Error didn’t dare pry too far. All he’d been told was that the King was still swamped with duties and was locking himself in his study to complete his duties.

Now, Error was not one to talk about unhealthy work ethic, not in the slightest, but he figured it couldn’t be fun. The things the King was doing weren’t exciting or engaging like Error’s projects were, they were all papers and about talking to people. Error dreaded the idea of sitting alone in a room, trying to figure out something stupid like which roads a guy should walk or what people thought of him. Sounded stressful.

So, Error had made something to make the King feel less bad! Less cooped up!

Originally he had wanted to wait until his report, but he’d been so invested in making this that it’d only taken him a day, and his miniature prototypes had worked perfectly, so the larger one was ready in just a day or two! He’d really really tried to convince himself to be patient but… The King had liked him because he was bold! And did things he didn’t expect! And Error didn’t want to lose that reputation. If the King wouldn’t come to him, he’d just go to the King!

That was the thought process, of course, which had led him to the entryway to the King’s royal wing. Then past it and the guards standing watch. Then to standing right infront of the door to the King’s study.

He knew it was the study because he’d been inside once before. The King usually met with him up in the tower, but they had met down in his study once, to talk about the revised contract. It had been a long, boring conversation which involved the King asking Error to repeat his words back to him at certain points (the King had caught him spacing out several times, but never scolded him) to make sure he was actually listening. Something about making sure Error was safe and had other options? The King seemed super serious about making sure Error was okay, just because he was a kid, but he wasn’t a kid anymore! He was 13 by the time he signed, basically a whole adult!

But, point is, Error had spent at least an hour or two in there listening to the King talk. He knew where this room was.

Staring at the door was… a little imposing. What was his plan again? Burst inside?

Yeah. If he knocked, someone would send him away. Just like at the try-outs. He had to just commit and walk in. The King had said in the contract that Error was always welcome to come to him if he needed something. And right now? Error needed his attention.

He reached out, grabbing the big handle in one hand as he clutched his satchel with the other. He twisted it, and the moment it processed that it wasn’t locked, he pushed it inwards and slipped inside. He blindly shut it in his wake, just in-case someone tried to push him outside.

Leaning against the door, his eyelights shot around to take in the room.

No one was charging at him, and no one was rushing to yell at him. Good. Good. He-

“Error?”

Well that wasn’t a voice he recognized!

Error abandoned his skim of the room to search for the origin of the voice, and found himself staring wide-eyed at a monster across the room. This monster was a skeleton, their bones white, they seemed short, and skinny, and their one socket was wide in surprise with a single cyan eyelight, the other empty and seemingly gone dark. They stared at each-other.

This odd skeleton, Error noticed, wore the King’s clothes. To a tee, the cloak, the shirt, the pants. The shoes looked different, but the pants covered them enough that Error couldn’t quite tell on a quick glance. That, and this skeleton had the King’s circlet resting on their skull, crescent moon plastered right in the center of their forehead.

Error would’ve doubted the conclusion his mind came to, if it weren’t for the fact that he noticed this skeleton was not the only other one in the room. A quick glance revealed that Ccino was sat nearby to the skeleton, resting on one of the chairs around the coffee table. Error had been able to pick up that Ccino didn’t relax much at all. Especially not around strangers.

“King Nightmare?” He asked back, staring at the monster across the room still.

The way the monster seemed to flinch at the title told Error he was right. This was the King!

A lot of questions flooded his mind, but they were beat-out by a sudden flood of curiosity. He hurried across the room, rapidly approaching the King, until they were stood just a few feet apart. He didn’t even notice Ccino’s worried ‘ah, ah wait-’ or the way the King had to refrain from stepping away. He just saw his suspicions were correct.

“You’re… shorter.” He voiced, stupidly.

He wasn’t wrong! The King was now shorter than him by at least half a head! Before the mass of dark magic that was the King had been taller than him by a lot, and he was tall for his age, but now! Now he was tiny! He wasn’t sure what to do with this information besides be delighted. He was used to being taller than people, but taller than a king? Now that was more his speed!

It took a few seconds for it to finally hit Error that the King did… not look happy. He didn’t look mad, but Error knew that was not an expression people would give when they were happy. His brows were furrowed a bit, his mouth tugged down ever so slightly at the corners, his shoulders were tense.

“I- Yes, I am a bit… shorter. Than usual.” The King replied, “May I ask why you’re, ah, here, Mage Error?”

Error blinked at him for a second. Right! He was here for a reason!

“Oh! I just finished a lot of my projects, and I know that the report was rescheduled, but I made something I thought you would really like, and I…” He trailed off a moment as he realized Nightmare was staring at him. Had he done something wrong?

Nightmare was still watching him, but seemed more alarmed that Error had stopped talking. He wasn’t sure he liked being able to read the King’s expressions like this. Usually, the king had a poker-face worthy of a family game night, only breaking when he was pleased and smiled. Now his expressions were so obvious even Error could read them. It was strange.

“...Please, continue. A project?” The King seemed to catch himself and prompted. His expression schooled again, though it looked like he had to put in some effort. Eyelight flickering away from Error before shooting back to him.

Error hesitated for a second, but ultimately continued.

“I just… Thought that if I came to find you it wouldn’t take too long to show you, and then you wouldn’t be stuck doing just all your paperwork all day.” He was a bit more reserved than he’d meant to be when he presented the idea, both his hands now clutching the strap on his satchel. “I mean. If you’re that busy I can always. I can come back.” He paused again, “Or I- I- I can wait until my report day. Like I… probably should have.”

He didn’t like the way his voice had stuttered and lagged at the end as he became more uncertain. He glanced over at Ccino.

The older skeleton was watching between them wordlessly, looking a lot more tense than when Error had first seen him. Like he was waiting for something to happen. His eyelights were plastered on the King. Who was staring at Error intently.

“Is this project something which you could share inside the study? I… wasn’t intending on leaving my hall today.” the King asked him in an oddly gentle tone. His voice slowed the same way as usual, but it was strange to hear it in such a high voice.

Error’s hands wrung the strap of his satchel as he thought. “It’s. Ah. Explosive. It’d have to be outside.” He admitted in defeat. He hadn’t thought about the possibility that the King might not want to abandon his work to go look at Error’s spells. Thinking back, they did probably all look pretty silly to the King. He was really good at magic. Just like Dust was. “It can wait.” he added briefly.

The silence that followed only lasted a second or two, enough for Error to furrow his brow and feel that little hint of indignation that used to plague him, the one that made him so mad at everyone. What was he thinking? He was good at magic too! Maybe not as good as the King, but certainly he was powerful, his magic wasn’t bad or a waste. Those instructors back at the academy were wrong, he knew so, he had to stop thinking about what they’d thought of him.

Error found himself glaring at the floor when a sound snapped his attention upwards. A fizzling sound and a little groan from the King. The King had gripped his skull, covering the socket with the cyan eyelight and turning away from Error’s view in a snap.

That fizzling noise had sounded… unhealthy, to put it plainly. It didn’t help that Ccino finally spoke up, a little ‘My King?’ worriedly ringing out from the chair where Ccino had planted himself. The King had hunched himself forwards a bit to clutch at his socket, like he was trying to hold in pain.

Was… was the king sick? Was that why he looked like this? Initially he’d assumed the dark energy had been a glamor. Some kind of magical enhancement to shield him, to make him more fearsome, even to cover up stunted growth. This must’ve been what he looked like normally, right? But. If that were true, the King would’ve just called it back onto his person or had Ccino usher him out. If he was sick, though? He might not be able to control that magic. Might be limited in its output, or even barred from access…

Error would’ve asked him, but his eyes moved curiously to the mirror instead. The reflection gave Error a perfect view of the King’s other side. The way the magic in his palm was flickering and sparking. Between- Between colors. The cyan Error was familiar with, and a soft purple that he’d never seen.

He must’ve been right, on some level, because he realized it. He couldn’t sense the King’s magic.

Or, at least, he couldn’t sense any magic that was active. The King’s magic worked like an aura, at least as far as Error had seen of it. Wide-spread, curling around anyone and anything it liked like a vine, and strangling what it didn’t like a noose. He wasn’t as good at seeing magic or feeling it as his brother, but he knew when a magical signature was missing, and he could feel familiar ones. The magic that the King was using to make his eyelight flicker? It was familiar, if only faintly, but it wasn’t his normal magic. Not by a longshot. There was very little intent, and what there was felt. Strange. Desperate, almost.

“It’s alright. I’m fine, just a hiccup.” The King said, clearly responding to Ccino.

It took a few deep breaths before the King righted himself, and Error watched as he peeked at the mirror first. He saw that the King’s eyelight was cyan again, but only partly. The bottom portion was still that lavender, and he hissed under his breath before covering his socket with his hand again.

That same fizzling noise again, but muffled. Error watched, clearly, as the King’s face momentarily contorted with pain, before going still again.

That couldn’t be healthy, whatever he was doing. His brother had told him all sorts of horror stories about things going wrong with magic at his academy. People who would change their appearance, and they would do it poorly, with adverse effects on their body. He got a chill.

“I- I- can wait. The project can wait.” Error muttered over the sound of that magic fizzling and popping over the King’s socket.

He didn’t waste any time, even as he was pretty sure the King turned to call him back. He was already to the door, and then out of the door, and then hurrying down the hall.

No one in the castle actually cared what he was up to, so he wasn’t exactly careful as he hurried down the halls and back to the tall tower which was his. When he passed the entryway, hsi strings caught his arms and tugged him up and over the dozens of spiraling stairs, straight to his doorway. He practically spun inside and retreated to the rafters among his projects to disperse the ones he’d placed into his satchel.

…

It was childish, but Error felt faint about what he’d seen. He wasn’t sure why, but his head hurt just thinking about it. Altering appearance wasn’t something unheard of, or even really frowned about in his circles. But the magic the King had been doing was unfamiliar and strange. Not just something to alter the appearance of his magic, but something else. Something that was unnatural.

He tugged a string directly from his socket as he hung alone in the rafters, and saw the way that it hung from his fingertips. Blue, a deep one. Monster souls shouldn’t have traits, most didn’t, at least not the way human souls do. Magic, however, tends to manifest in a way that reflects its owner. Error had seen the way a white soul produced bright red magic. His own manifested as a dark blue. Integrity, he’d been told. It was reflecting on how he saw himself as well, he never gave up, he always walked his own path. Those who’d met him could certainly vouch for that.

As far as he’d known, the King’s magic was cyan. Somewhere between Patience and Kindness, which made sense to him. The King had certainly been kind, offering him this job despite the rules, and he was patient too. Letting Error go on and on and on about his creations. He’d never doubted that those were accurate traits. Now, though? Now the King seemed to be sporting Purple. Purple was not a color which Error had ever seen from him. And it seemed the King must’ve thought the same thing of himself.

Error took a breath as he moved the string so it sat hovering between his index finger and his thumb, the ends clinging with residual, pliable, magic. With his other hand, he pinched the end nearest to his thumb and closed his eyes.

He didn’t think about it often, but his strings were just that, made up of plenty of little threads, all woven together in just the right way which pleased Error. Texture and thickness which he liked and relied on to hold his weight, keep his projects secure, it was unlike any threads seen in the rest of the world. All his own. It’d taken him time to perfect it, though. Each new string, a new pattern and new density, until a few years ago when he’d figured it out. If he was right, though, he could mimic other styles. Other existing patterns. Other existing colors of magic.

He let his grip slide an inch or so down the string, concentrating as the fibers snapped and rearranged themselves. He furrowed his brow as he recalled the method to make a rope, the braids and twists and tension involved. Each strand felt like he was mentally moving a ten pound weight, and his concentration wavered when he realized his fingers were growing warm. Then, a few more seconds, another inch, and it felt like his fingertips would burst into flame. He hissed and opened his eyes, retracting his hand to see what sort of abomination he’d made.

Half the string was still that familiar deep blue, but the portion near his thumb was a bright yellow. Thick, three times as thick as the blue, and with the appearance of a rope. It trembled and shook with tension, the portion where Error had given up being a strange and ugly, frayed mass of blue and yellow strands, some portions a muddled green at the exact mid-point.

The sight made Error wince, and he pulled his fingers apart, the frayed portion snapping easily. The blue strand fell limp into his palm, while the yellow strand began to unravel. Quickly. LIttle chunks of burnt-out thread exploded like confetti, turning white or back to that blue color. It spun and spun until Error was left with little chunks of blue magic thread stuck to the fabric of his shirt and floating to the floor below him. The yellow magic he’d imbued, all the intent pushed behind it, wasn’t nearly enough to keep it steady or in place. Even if he’d finished the entire strand and burnt his fingers to do it, it wouldn’t have held up a small rock, let alone anything important. It was useless.

His little test, he realized, didn’t even cover the severity of the situation. He’d used strings, something he’d removed from his person. The King was doing that… to his own socket.

How long had he been doing that? If Cyan wasn’t his natural magic, how much strain had he been under? For how long?

It was none of his business, he reminded himself. The King was an adult, with a lot of advisors and strong magic users and people like Ccino. He had people who would tell him to stop. Error didn’t have the whole picture, surely. It wasn’t his place to worry about it. It just… rubbed him the wrong way. It bothered him.

…And now he had two things to sulk about. Great.

…

Ping

There it was again.

Honestly, Error hadn’t expected anyone to come to see him again so soon. It’d hardly been a few hours since he attempted to visit the King, and it must’ve been dark by now. Who was coming up past dinner time?

He eased himself down from where he’d placed himself in the rafters, and stood in front of his large door for a second, before opening it up to peek out.

And. Outside, in the dimly lit corridor, was… The King.

Or, at least, it looked like the King? Same clothes, same height as he’d seen earlier in the day, and his eyelight was cyan once again. Only, this time he couldn’t see the King’s expressions. He was wearing a mask. Error had to blink to process it. An owl, round and dark, with big eye holes right at the right level for the King’s sockets. It reminded Error a little bit of the fluffy owls he used to see outside his window, the ones just barely out the nest still losing their fluffy baby feathers. Was… Was it heresy to think the King was small and cute? Probably. Very absurd thought, compared to the haunting dark mass he usually was. Maybe that was why he disguised?

“Mage Error,” The King greeted, voice calm as it usually was, “I am aware that this is an impromptu visit, but may I come in? I realize I did not attend to you as I should have earlier, and I wish to rectify this mistake.” His cyan eyelight watched upwards, and Error stared down at him for a moment through the crack in the door.

He glanced past him, too. But it seemed like the King was entirely alone. Just like he tended to be.

Error swung open the door, pulling himself out of the way along with it. It wasn’t like he was going to say no to the King, but he wasn’t nearly as excited as usual. What should he do? Say? Obviously something was up with the King, but was Error supposed to say anything? Or was the King just here to make sure Error stayed out of trouble? Adults did that a lot back in the day when he got on their nerves.

His thoughts persisted as the King entered the space. Error shut the door behind him and watched idly for a breath. The King was moving oddly. Like he was faint. His steps were just ever so slightly uneven and he seemed to wobble ever so slightly as he moved to sit at the unoccupied chair before Error’s desk. What was wrong with him?

Error started moving, shifting away the items he’d once again strewn out on the floor back to the shadows of the rafters, and instead lowering a set of strings which held his hammock and a wooden board he much preferred to a table. The King watched as the items lowered, just like he always did, but the table was empty as Error hoisted himself to sit on the edge of the hammock across from the ruler.

“You… have questions, right?” Nightmare voiced.

The King was looking at the empty surface suspended before the both of them, and Error realized he hadn’t even moved to gather his projects. For some reason he was hesitant to bring them up again.

“Can I? Ask you stuff?” Error questioned uncertainly. “Adults usually don’t like when I start asking questions.” He admitted.

The King looked up to him, before he sighed and nodded. “Ask anything you like.”

That was… an odd allowance. Error wasn’t used to that either. Usually the King was the one letting him talk, and talk, and talk, and his questions had never been about. Well. The King himself. Just about the knights, or the tapestries, or the food. Never about the King.

“Why are you small?” The burning question was the one he had to get out of his head. He had theories, but the King was the only one who could confirm or deny them.

The King was quiet for a brief second, before he brought a hand to his mask. It hovered there as he chuckled, though to Error it sounded a lot more like a giggle.

“It is a… complicated story. I’m still not quite sure myself, but I will share with you what I know as to how I came to be this way.” The King moved a hand behind his skull, tucking it beneath his hood, and tugged at a pretty silk ribbon. A purple one, Error noted. “It’s the least i can do.”

The mask fell forward into the King’s awaiting hand, and once again Error was met by the image of that clean and soft white bone. The rounded face he didn’t recognize. His expression was neutral, schooled, careful.

“I know you are not from Orchard, nor are you familiar with the traditions of our kingdom. However, you recall the story of my upbringing, and my twin, correct?” He asked, and Error nodded. He recalled decently that there had been twin princes, the King, Nightmare, and his brother, Dream or something? He’d been asking about the tapestries and the King had told him how the two of them had grown up really close, and how he ended up with the throne in the end, banishing his twin so he wouldn’t steal the crown or something.

“Good. Well. My coronation was not actually mine. It was that of my twin. Dream. He was the crown prince, but I had found word of a great cost to completing the ritual, and I was sure he would be hurt by the process.” The King explained. “The power of the kingdom is passed from generation to generation through the soul. Each King’s soul warps and changes, taking the shape of an apple, golden and shining with a seemingly divine magic. When my mother gave up her soul for Dream to eat, to inherit her title, I…”

The king trailed off for a breath, and Error felt his insides twist a bit. Eating a soul? That was… a concept. Fascinating, but also he couldn’t imagine a scenario in which someone would actually follow through with it. Of course eating an entire other monster’s soul would provide a magic boost, just like when monsters absorbed human souls, or humans overloaded on magic.

“I stole it from him and completed the ritual myself.” So, maybe that was why he was sick? “The ritual, as it was meant to do, provided me with power beyond myself, yes, but it also altered my mind and physical form. I aged significantly, something I had always assumed was due to the overwhelming force of the gifted magic. In a matter of moments I was old, my mind more clear and sharp. The way you knew me before was the shape I was meant to hold. That I expected to stay.” The King rubbed a hand against his good socket, the other gently resting over the mask sat on his lap. “Several weeks ago, I collapsed. And when I awoke, I had taken on this form again, and it seems my mind is reverted as well. Both have returned, aside from my memories, back to the exact condition that they were on the day of my coronation. So, I find myself back in my youth, and small as a result.”

He seemed to pause for a second, before puffing a sigh, “Or, almost the exact condition. It seems a wound I suffered the same day didn’t ever quite heal.” He ghosted over his empty socket and the cracks running up and out of sight beneath his hood.

Error stared at him a second, and he blinked in confusion. That was a lot of wacky magic shenanigans, and that was coming from him of all monsters, but he was processing something that had been glossed over.

“Wait, so how old are you?” Error questioned, confused.

The King blinked at his question, before Error caught sight of something he didn’t quite expect to see today. A slight lavender blush dusted the King’s cheekbones. Error’s not even sure the King noticed he’d done it.

“That’s a… tricky question I’ve been trying to decipher. However, as far as my development and mental state are concerned, I regrettably appear to be 13.”

The King seemed ashamed to admit it, but Error found his mind working a bit faster than he’d meant it to be. The weak aura, the weird magic, the short height, the baby face, the higher voice, all of it! He’d heard of cases like this. Not usually between monsters, but often when monsters would overtake too much magic, or too many supplements, or strain their bodies, they could take on a higher form before reverting. Usually it only affected the amount of magic they could harness, and no one had ever sustained one long enough to actually age before releasing it, but it wasn’t an impossible idea. If the King had been operating on borrowed magic? It was entirely possible that there was a sort of stasis provided to him. Especially since Error was pretty sure he never ever got hurt.

Part of him wished he’d paid more attention to the books on the shelves back home. His brother would eat this up. Soul-based research with an abnormally long-lasting period? Oh boy…

“That’s cool!” Error blurted without really thinking about it.

The King seemed to actually flinch about it, cyan eyelight looking wide at Error form across the makeshift table.

“I- What do you mean?” The King questioned, obviously confused and shocked.

Error frowned a bit. Did the King really not realize how much skill that takes to pull something like that amount of magic transfer off? Error’s not even sure he could do something like that, and all without losing himself to this other invasive magic?

“King Nightmare, it sounds like you were a torch holding a really really hot fire and you didn’t even get burnt. I’ve never heard of someone using magic like that.” And he blinked as he suddenly perked up, “You’re young too! We’re like each other! Doing cool new magic things that no one wanted us to do! Well, I mean, you want me to do it, but- That’s not the point!”

Error actually leaned forward a bit so his elbows planted on his knees, and he squinted at the King. “I bet I’m older now too, that’d be really cool. What season is your birthday?” He’d not seen the King celebrate his birthday since he’d been there, but then again, the King was always busy, and Error didn’t pay attention much.

The King seemed taken aback, but still spoke, “My birthday is in the spring, but-”

Error lit up at that, “Yes! I am older!” he exclaimed excitedly to himself. He’d never had anyone younger than him to hang around before! Granted, he’d met other kids at the academy, but they hadn’t liked him much.

His grinning was cut a bit short when the King stammered from the seat across from him again.

“Mage Error, I- I’m glad to see this news isn’t distressing you, but I please ask you to consider my next few words.” The King was watching him, and Error tried to tone down the smile gracing his face. “News of my… state is not being circulated just yet. Orchard is still recovering from centuries of mistreatment under my bloodline’s rule, and I am nowhere near to being able to restore the kingdom as I had planned. My goals will likely only bring more turmoil and frustration to the people, and while assassinations and other sabotage have rarely graced these halls, if word gets out of my newfound weakened form? This castle, this entire kingdom, could be thrown to chaos.” The King’s tone was very serious, and it sounded tired. “You, Error, are not officially my mage, but to prying eyes your studies here fill that same purpose. I was willing to take you in when I was sure I had the power to protect you, but I can’t provide that security any more.”

“Before I came here, I reviewed our contract. At the loss of my protection, you are welcome to request an indefinite leave of absence from the position, and I will have one of my knights accompany you anywhere you wish to go and ensure you arrive safely. I do not want to put you in danger due to my search for reform. You have no obligations to stay in this place nor risk your life for it.” The King’s voice was steady as he said it. “You do not have to give me an answer this moment, but I needed to inform you so that you have a full understanding of your options.”

Error’s grin had faded about halfway through the King’s speech, and he could already feel the fuzzy numbness creeping up one of his legs as he tried to keep himself from lashing out. Dust had talked to him about that. His reactiveness.

“King Nightmare, I’m not going anywhere.” he declared, crossing his arms with a huff. “That dumb contract you made me read also said I can stay as long as I want the position. And I want the position.” And the food, and the tower, and the courtyard, and the knights, and the King who listened to him talk about his explosives. “I don’t care if you’re short or have purple magic or whatever,” the King flinched at that, “ You’re still really smart and you have a bunch of really strong people you’re in charge of. Including me, by the way.”

He was almost offended. He was strong! He was dangerous! The King had always praised him for ingenuity and sheer force of will placed behind each of his projects, and Error took pride in that. He was strong, and powerful, and he wanted to do fun experiments and help the King. Almost more now that he knew that the King was some twig of a monster. Now he didn’t have to worry about lame old people bossing him around.

The King seemed to lean forward ever so slightly in the chair he was sat in, and Error didn’t shy away. If this was a battle of the wills, he wouldn’t be-

A sniffle.

Error jolted when the King pulled his hands up to his skull and hastily dragged his sleeves against his sockets. Was he crying??

“Ah- Forgive me!” The King said in a small voice, “Emotional regulation, another damning loss from my sudden form alteration. I’ve been lucky I hadn’t embarrassed myself sooner.” He practically teased himself.

Error let his body stop tensing, and he noticed the uncomfortable fuzzy feeling had fled in the aftermath of his bold declaration. If he’d had any doubts before that this King was actually as he said, this was the final sign. The King had never showed so much emotion before.

“I think it’s fine. I get mad all the time and you never mind.” Error voiced, though he wasn’t sure how welcome it would be.

At that the king laughed, and Error grinned to himself, looking away from the scene. He didn’t like it when people saw him cry. He understood that one all too well.

A silence fell between them. Error wasn’t going anywhere, he’d made that abundantly clear. The King wouldn’t be sending him away, either. It went unsaid, but it was there in the agreement they’d made just hardly a year prior. The King never went back on his deals.

“Mage Error, I believe you wanted to show me something earlier. Now that it is dark, I believe I would be willing to have Horror accompany us out to the courtyard so I may observe.”

Error glanced back to the King, and saw that he was looking up at the darkened ceiling. As though trying to predict when a string would lower down his newest creations.

“Oh, actually I bet we can do it here. From the balcony, I mean. It goes up into the sky, so it shouldn’t hurt anything.” he said, his excitement gaining momentum once again. “I actually made test ones this time too, just to make sure!”

Error swung backwards out of his hammock, and let the strings above him loosen to drop the item into his awaiting hands.

The King rose from his seat, walking a bit strangely still, but nothing which bothered Error much. He was more interested in the curious face of his ruler as he approached Error near the balcony exit. Error wasn’t one to use his balcony often, he didn’t even have strings set up to pull the curtains aside, so he lifted one back so that the King could pass by, and he followed himself shortly after.

The balcony was a thick one, reinforced underneath by large wooden and stone beams, the railing thick enough that one could sit along it like a high-stakes bench. Error did just that, pulling himself up so his feet dangled over the edge. The King remained back, hood pulled tight to his skull as the night winds attempted to tug it away from him. It took a few moments before he joined Error near to the edge, leaning on the balcony which was just ever so slightly too tall for him. His arms rested at chin-height and he seemed to be debating whether to rest his chin on them like an arm rest.

Error watched from over his shoulder, and grinned to himself as he secured the little invention with his strings before holding it out for the King to see in the moonlight that illuminated the darkness. Them, the castle grounds below, the mountainside and the sprawling hills and valleys beyond.

“I’ve seen people make these before with gun-powder, they always glowed red, though. So I infused some magic into the canister and the projectiles, and they should do something fun.” Error explained excitedly, pointing out different locations on the thing held in his strings. Long, slender, a mix between a crossbow and a cannon, but tiny. Only the length of his forearm. “Best thing, it should be quiet!” He’d noticed that some of the knights didn’t like when his explosions made loud noises, and a lot of guards came rushing the first few times he’d set off his creations.

The King examined it for a few moments longer, before he nodded silently.

Error snickered before he pulled it back into his grip and aimed it up and out. Away from the tower, where it should’ve been just over the large, round, open space in the center of the castle. High in the sky.

He shifted, dragging his fingers along the surface, the long portion lighting up and flinging something from the end of the device. A little ball of pure white. Up, up, up.

It exploded.

Error laughed in triumph as the night sky above the palace was set ablaze with a collection of little shimmering lights, like falling stars in all shades of blue and green and purple and white flying everywhere before going dark. His eyelights shot back to the King as he loaded the next round, and he was delighted to see that the single cyan eyelight was plastered on the smoky after-effect left by the burning magic. He desperately wanted to start telling the King all about how he’d done such a genius thing, but he found himself simply hefting the little device up once again and firing into the open darkness instead.

#new age au #as always #there's no editing in this bad boy lol! Though I did take it an entirely different direction than I thought I would (Aka I #changed when Nightmare tells Error the important bits-)#These two definitely have at least two more meetins after this to make sure everythig is squared away but like-#Idk I just love their dynamic lol-#I think I had a lot to say but fr the only thing on my mind is that Error is entirely unaware of the significance behind #Night telling him all that jazz about his current state. Like #the Knights had to wait for their masks! Error just... got the info by being there!!#though tbh none of the Knights would blame night. It was the best call for everyone involved. Especially because they have the trigger-happ #teenager with impulse control issues on THEIR side #hehe #I'm sick again and very tired so very few tags tonight. Hope y'all enjoy!

27 notes · View notes