#(that sound.. that familiar sound… what ever could it be-) | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

radishaur · 20 hours

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༄ kind words ༄

Warnings: mentions of unwelcome advances in Law's part Genre: fluff Characters: Luffy, Zoro, & Law Summary: How they realize they have feelings for you (words of affirmation edition) Author's Note: It's finally here! These keep getting longer and longer as I get more familiar with each character and the dynamic, especially Law's, but I don't think that's too much of an issue. I also kind of hate Luffy's but couldn't keep redoing it, so maybe I'll edit it later. Happy reading as I begin working on the next part!

masterlist

Luffy is great at giving compliments because he just says whatever he's thinking.

He gets complimented a lot as well. He's always running around and saving people, intentionally or not, so he's probably heard his fair share of compliments. I think hearing a compliment that's more deep and genuine, that comes from someone who knows him deeply, would be more meaningful than anything and would make him recognize his feelings.

Not every day on the Sunny was a fun adventure.

Setting out to sail across the whole world and strive for their individual goals there was bound to be hardship. Sometimes it came in the form of grueling battles with their latest enemy. Other times it was internal conflicts or disputes, simple disagreements or heated arguments.

This time, it was grief.

After so many months traveling together, the crew had learned how to tell when one of them was upset about something and needed space. Today, it had been Nami. For the past few days, her mood had been off. She'd been more quick to anger and had spent more time than was strictly necessary tending to her orange trees. Then today, she'd been even worse, snapping at Sanji's normal overbearing lovey behavior and brooding to herself under the shade of her grove.

It didn't take him long to realize what was bothering her.

Nami only ever got like this when she was thinking about Bellemere, which meant today must be the anniversary of when everything happened. The crew had spent most of the day giving her her space, allowing her to process what she was very clearly feeling. After a while, he took it upon himself to cheer her up. He made silly faces and played some of her favorite games on the deck, goading her into joining them by making bets he knew he would lose. He'd even secretly asked Sanji to incorporate oranges into their dinner. By the end of the night, Nami was laughing and she seemed a lot lighter, like whatever was weighing her down had lessened some.

Now, it was late at night, and the only sounds that could be heard on the Sunny were the lapping of waves against the ship and the snores of his crew as they slept. All except for him.

Sleep was avoiding him, so he decided that he would be much better off just joining whoever was on watch and maybe having some fun. He made his way up to the crow's nest and was happy to find you sitting on the bench, looking out across the sea.

"Oh, hi Luffy," you said, your voice quiet.

"Hi!" he said, sitting excitedly next to you on the bench as you looked out across the sea once more. "I couldn't sleep so I decided to come out and have some fun!"

You smiled, always amused by his antics.

"Well, unfortunately, there's no fun here. I'm on watch, remember?"

He pouted, knowing you were right but still disappointed anyways. You laughed at him as he whined and complained, but he didn't actually intend on distracting you, so after a while, he quieted down and let you focus.

"I hope Nami is feeling better," you said, resting your head on the arm you propped up on the window. You were frowning slightly, your eyes unfocused as your worry made itself visible on your face.

"She'll be ok, she's Nami! She's strong," he replied, no doubt in his mind that tomorrow she would be the same old Nami she had always been. "She might be sad now, but it's not forever. She has us to help her."

You hummed in agreement, a small smile on your face. He smiled himself, happy to see you smiling instead of with a frown on your face. He felt so lucky to have found a group who cared so deeply about each other.

"All that stuff you did today. It was to cheer her up, wasn't it."

You said it like a statement more than a question and he found himself smiling at how observant you were. "You figured it out. You're so smart!"

You laughed at him once again, his own laughter joining you as you said, "Of course I did. I know you wouldn't have made those bets under normal circumstances."

They had been stupidly dumb bets that left no chance for him to win and he found himself giggling as he remembered how Nami had perked up upon hearing him agree to them. He loved his crew more than anything, so what was a few beri down the drain? Your laughter subsided as you got lost in thought once more. You seemed like you were debating saying something and when you seemed to have made up your mind, he found himself sitting up straighter as you turned to look at him.

"You're a lot smarter than people give you credit for," you said, a small smile on your face and a playful admiration in your eyes.

He's not quite sure what to say to that. He's always been called stupid and to everyone's credit, he is. He doesn't think very often, preferring to act on instinct and figure out the rest of the plan later. He's been known to not read the room, to zone out during important world lessons, and to shout out the first thing that comes to mind. He doesn't think anyone has ever called him smart and for the first time in maybe his whole life, he's speechless.

"I guess that's probably not what you were expecting me to say, huh?" you teased, a light smile making its way onto your face.

He collects himself and asks, slightly incredulously, the question that's first in his mind. "Why do you think that?"

"Well, you just told me you did all that stuff to cheer Nami up, right? Someone stupid wouldn't be able to put together why she was upset and what would make her feel better. You pay attention when it counts and you're a lot more emotionally intelligent than people realize," you explain, relaxing slightly as you look out at the ocean once more. "Today it was Nami, but I've watched you help lots of people like that. Vivi, Robin, Sanji, even me. Maybe you don't say it out loud, but you pick up on people's emotions and what they need the most in that moment."

He listens as you talk and slowly realizes that you're right. He's always had a way of reading people and knowing what they really want or need, but he's never really connected it to intelligence. He always thought it was just his own special kind of stupid.

"I guess that makes me a genius!" he exclaimed, laughing heartily as your eyes widened in shock before laughing along with him.

"Maybe you are stupid after all," you say, but there's no malice in the words as you keep laughing at him.

Finally, your watch shift is over and the sun peeks up over the horizon. He'd stayed with you the entire time, just talking and goofing around until he realized how much time had passed and how tired he was. His dreams that night are filled with you and when he wakes up, your words are still floating around in his mind. Knowing that you think he's smart makes him feel funny and he thinks that maybe he should finally turn his ability to recognize people's feelings inward.

Zoro doesn't throw out compliments or encouragement left and right, he only says something if he really means it.

I think he's received his fair share of compliments, although I doubt he puts much stock in them unless they come from someone he respects. If he doesn't think there's any stock in the compliment, or on that same token an insult, why bother giving it attention? For this reason, I think getting a compliment or reassurance from you would rattle him a little and cause him to have an aha moment.

The town that the Sunny docked in isn't too interesting to Zoro, aside from the bar he's nestled into for the past few hours. He has a few empty glasses in front of him and he's almost done with his current one when he sees the door open.

He's not surprised when he sees multiple of the crew walk in, quickly noticing him in the corner and making their way to him. You're among them, talking to Robin about something that elicits a small laugh out of her. Begrudgingly, he scoots over and makes room for everyone in his booth as they smoosh in.

"I knew we'd find you here!" you say, the last to slide in so you're right across from him. "Already deep into your drinks, as expected."

"Shut it, woman," he grumbles, his brows furrowing as he finishes his drink and sets the cup down on the table. You laugh, looking at Robin as Usopp reluctantly hands Nami some beri. He feels his eye twitch in irritation as he notices the exchange. "Are you betting on me?"

Usopp gulps at the glare he sends his way and Nami simply smiles, dollar signs practically lighting up in her eyes as she answers, "Yep! I bet that you were already 3 drinks deep and I was right."

"We've barely even arrived! I thought-" Usopp protests, attempting to explain himself.

"You both are insufferable!"

His exclamation elicits another laugh out of you as Robin simply lifts a hand to her mouth to hide the amusement that is no doubt there. He wants to be annoyed, and he is, but he's been traveling with the lot of you for long enough that he can't really be upset, at least that genuinely. He simply huffs, waving down a server to ask for another glass.

The rest leap over each other to order their own drinks, some alcoholic, some not, and fall into easy chatter with each other. Periodically, he catches your eyes and you send him a smile, but he doesn't insert himself in the conversations, much preferring to listen. Eventually, Nami gets tired of just sitting in the bar and decides to go shopping. Usopp and Robin decide to accompany her, but you decide to stay behind. You wave, watching them go as he takes his previous spot in the booth back.

"Not in the shopping mood?" he asks, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye.

"No, I'd much rather stay here with my favorite swordsman," you tease. He bristles, knowing that you're just poking him for fun, but he can't stop himself from blushing, taking a long sip from his glass to hide the blush he can feel on his cheeks.

"You're worse than that damn cook," he mumbles, his glass now sufficiently empty.

You laugh at that.

"Now that's just a lie."

He can't deny that, the corner of his lips twisting up into a smile. He's spent enough time traveling with you to know that you don't act like that with everyone, just him. The notion that you reserve this behavior for just him is both agitating and yet satisfying. He feels something possessive lick at his heart but ignores it, waving at the server for yet another drink.

He asks you about what you've been up to on the island since they docked and you happily tell him all about it. It hasn't been long so you don't have much to say and it isn't long before the two of you fall into a comfortable silence. After a while, you finally talk again and it's not what he's expecting.

"I know you'll become the greatest swordsman, Zoro."

He sputters, the sip he was taking spilling all over himself as he coughs, trying to catch his breath. He can feel his ears heating up with embarrassment and sputters, "Where the hell did that come from?"

When you look at him, your face is set in firm determination, but your eyes are soft, filled with a fondness he wishes you would direct at him more often.

"Those pirates we fought yesterday," you explain.

He thinks for a moment before he's reminded of what you're referring to. On their way to this island, they had run into a rival ship following the same course. While they hadn't intended to battle them, the ship fired at them as soon as they were in range, so they had no other choice. He remembers the fight being fairly easy, each member of the crew handling their fair share of pirates.

He also remembers one of their crew having some rather nasty words to say to him.

"You're delusional if you think you can become the greatest swordsman," he had spat, struggling to breathe. "You'll see it eventually. Even if you won this battle, you'll never achieve your dream."

He hadn't paid much attention to the words. He was confident in his own abilities and his opponent had been defeated easily, so there wasn't any point in taking his words to heart. He hadn't thought anyone was close enough to hear it and he certainly hadn't brought it up, quickly forgetting about it.

He smirked then, letting the full force of his pride show in the grin as he said, "That loser wouldn't know what it takes to be the greatest swordsman even if it smacked him in the face."

"That doesn't make any sense," you say, your face wrinkling as you giggle at his statement.

He takes another sip as your laughter dies out.

"I'm not worried about what a crap swordsman has to say about me and my dream," he says, his voice a lot more serious now as he thinks about the promise he made all those years ago. "I will become the world's greatest swordsman or die trying."

"You'll do it. I know you will."

You don't say anything after that, seemingly having said everything you intended to, but your words linger with him. The thought that you had heard the man's words and felt it was important enough to dispute them made his heart feel weird. He had never doubted himself, even when he maybe should have. He'd always been sure that his will, determination, and hard work would take him to exactly where he was supposed to be. Still, hearing your words of encouragement, hearing your genuine belief in his ability, it affected him in a way he wasn't expecting.

"You will too," he says, his voice barely above a murmur.

A few seconds go by where you don't say anything and he wonders if you'd even heard him, but one glance at you tells him that you had. You're not looking at him, your eyes averted as if you're embarrassed and your lips are curved into a small, satisfied smile. The sight makes his heart stop and he almost goes to clutch his chest before the feeling quickly passes.

Before the moment can linger, you're shooting back into conversation with him. Despite his best efforts to pay attention, he finds that his attention is drawn back again and again to your words. He knows that the crew believes in his dreams just as much as he believes in theirs. It's part of why he's so willing to protect their dreams just as fiercely as his own, but for some reason knowing that you believe in him so much really sticks with him.

He thinks about it for the rest of the day as well as late into the night when they're all back on the Sunny and setting off for the next island. He doesn't like being distracted, so he mulls over why your compliment holds so much weight for him. He values your opinion, but you're also not a swordsman, so theoretically there shouldn't be that much weight to your words. When he finally realizes, it feels like everything clicks into place and so many things start to make sense.

He acts like nothing has changed, wanting time to sit with the feelings before he decides what to do about them, but he finds it hard now that he understands the full weight of his regard for you.

Law rarely ever gives out compliments, rather preferring to show how he feels with his actions.

I think he receives a few compliments here and there, but he's built an intimidating presence and image, so I think they're far and few between. However, I think if you took him off guard with a meaningful compliment, especially if its one that he hasn't heard before, it would make him start to think about his feelings towards you.

"Captain, we have a problem."

Law sighs, all of the worst-case scenarios running through his mind as he turns to face Sachi. They're docked at a port town so that they can restock the Polar Tang, preparing for another few weeks underwater. It's familiar and something that the crew should be familiar with by this point. They have a routine, a schedule that rarely changes, that details who goes with who to go get what. In theory, it should go perfectly smoothly.

It never does.

"What is it, Sachi?" he asks, his grip on Kikoku tightening slightly as Sachi walks up to him with the list of crewmates and jobs in hand.

"Well, you said that nobody is allowed to go alone into town right? For safety?" he asks, only resuming once Law has hummed in agreement. "Right, well uh, unfortunately, Penguin is sick today which means his partner doesn't have anyone to go with, which wouldn't be an issue since usually we have at least one group of three but, well, they're also sick so-"

Law grumbles under his breath about getting to the damn point, grabbing the sheet from Sachi's hands to just look at the issue himself. Sachi gulps, sensing his irritation, and nervously rubs the back of his neck. The problem becomes clear very easily. His beloved crew had partied a little too hard the last few nights and now two of them were sick, leaving no group of three to split up and someone unaccompanied. He looks for Penguin's name to see who's alone and feels his heart flutter slightly when he sees your name scrawled out next to it.

"Our only two options are to either make one group get two things, which would set us back at least an hour, or...," Sachi says, trailing off slightly. The unspoken second option is clear. Law always spend their restock days on the ship. The higher his bounty gets, the higher the chance that he gets recognized, so he always finds it easier and safer for him to stay behind.

"I'll go," he relents, watching as the tension in Sachi's shoulders dissipates.

"Great. Thanks, Captain!"

Sachi disappears before he can change his mind. He sighs, looking around the collection of his crew until he finally finds you in the mix. He makes his way over, watching as you converse with Bepo, catching the very end of your sentence.

"-seems like I'll be alone today. Sachi said he would look into it, but everyone already has their pairs so I don't know who could take his place."

"That would be me," he answers, watching as both Bepo and you finally notice his approach.

"Oh! Uh, are you sure? Don't you usually spend the day on the Tang doing research?" you ask.

He ignores your improper name for the Polar Tang as he explains the situation to you. You nod, smiling as you say, "I see. Well, I'm glad to have your company then, Captain!"

He's taken aback by your words but decides to just move forward instead of dwelling on them, so he turns around and shouts, "Let's go."

"Shouldn't you probably change?"

He stops, looking down at his attire as you add, "As much as it suits you, it doesn't really hide the fact that you're a pirate, let alone our Captain."

He can't really argue with that. The Heart Pirates logo is front and center on his shirt and Kikaku is certainly not doing him any favors either. He tells you to wait and then quickly shambles himself into his room to change. He has to dig really deep in his closet before he finds a shirt that doesn't have his symbol front and center, but once he does he leaves Kikaku leaning against his wall and shambles back up to you.

By the time he's changed and came back, most of his crew is gone. You're quicker to notice him this time as a result and the two of you finally head into town.

"What are we in charge of?" he asks, stuffing his hands into his pockets now that they're not holding his sword.

"We're in charge of the medicinal herbs, Captain," you answer.

"Just Law is fine," he says, his hand fidgeting slightly as he adds, "No use in me changing if you're just going to use my title."

He sees you smile softly out of the corner of his eyes. "Right. Law it is, then."

His ears burn slightly as you say his name so effortlessly, but he brushes it off quickly and continues into town. It's not hard to find the store you're looking for and he lets you take the lead as you begin listing off the various herbs you need. It's not long before the two of you are walking through town once more, heading towards the submarine.

"Oh, look! That art is gorgeous."

He stops walking as he turns to look at what you're pointing at. There's a small stall in the marketplace's square that's selling paintings of all different sizes and mediums. He sees your eyes light up as you look at them and isn't surprised when you say, "Wait here, I'm going to go buy one."

He huffs, leaning against the wall of a nearby building where he can see the stall. He'd like to pretend that today had purely been an inconvenience, but he can't find it in himself to be that upset. While it was inconvenient that he wasn't able to spend the time studying the most recent medical book he had been interested in, the day had been pleasant. You'd made pleasant conversation with him while walking in town and your bright demeanor always seems to calm him down.

He looks back over to the stall, curious about what painting had caught your eyes, but feels his heart jolt when he doesn't see any sign of you. He stands up to his full height, hoping to catch any glimpse of you, but he still doesn't see anything. He curses to himself for letting his guard down and allowing you to somehow slip away and starts searching for you with his observation haki.

He picks up your signature in an alleyway and feels his gut churning. Not wanting to draw attention to himself by using his devil fruit powers, he quickly makes his way to where you are. As he gets closer, he hears you pleading with someone.

"Look, I'm really not interested and I have someone waiting for me, so-"

"Surely I can show you a better time than them, hm?"

He doesn't recognize the second voice but he doesn't need to to know what's going on. He feels anger burn in him as he finally turns a corner and sees a guy caging your body against the wall with both of his arms.

"I already told you, I'm not looking for that. Please let me go," you say, your hands clutching the bag of herbs you'd bought earlier as well as what looks to be whatever painting you had bought at the stall. He also sees the man take a step closer and open his mouth to talk, so he takes the opportunity to interrupt.

"You heard them," he says, his voice like venom as he enunciates, "Let them go."

The man looks at him, sizing him up as he takes a step back and lets his arms drop. "What are you, a good samaritan? Buzz off," he scoffs, turning his head back to you, clearly intending to ignore him.

He doesn't know what comes over him as he finds himself stepping closer and punching the man square on the side of his face. The man, clearly caught off guard, stumbles slightly. He doesn't give him any time to recover as he steps forward, putting himself in between you and the man whose face was now swelling up.

"What the hell?" he shouts, cradling his face as he finally catches his balance.

He can see the punch coming but knows that you're standing right behind him, so he only shifts slightly so that the punch only hits him in the shoulder. A moment afterward, it dawns on him that he can just get rid of the man, so he does.

"You're lucky I don't have my sword, or you'd be getting much worse than this," he seethes, holding his hand out as he says his classic phrase and sends the man shambling into the ocean. In his place, a mossy stone drops to the ground, echoing in the now almost empty alleyway.

When he turns around, you're staring at him speechless. He frowns slightly as he gives you a once over, checking for any visible signs of harm.

"I'm ok," you finally say, your voice shaky before you cough slightly and repeat, voice calm, "I'm ok. Just unnerved."

He doesn't take his chances and calls another room, switching you both closer to the Polar Tang. His guilt at letting you out of his sight and allowing this guy to drag you off eats at him as the two of you approach the ship. Once inside, he shambles the two of you to his examination room, pointing to the table and saying, "Sit. I want to check for injuries with the proper equipment."

You don't fight him as you make your way towards the table. You're still holding the bag and the painting until he gently takes them from you, placing them next to you on the table.

"I'm really ok La- I mean Captain," you begin, correcting yourself back to his title now that it's just the two of you.

He finds himself missing his name from you but keeps the comment to himself. He's supposed to be checking you for injuries. He's supposed to be assessing your well-being, which is only in question because of his own negligence. He frowns to himself and continues to check you for injuries without answering.

You let him, still assuring him that you're fine, that he only grabbed your arm for a moment at the stall, but he doesn't stop until he's sure that there's nothing wrong.

He sighs, finally stepping back from the table. His guilt still eats at him regardless as he goes over everything he did wrong. "I'm sorry, I should have been watching more carefully. No, I should have just come with you."

You simply smile at him in response and say, "It's my fault. I was the one who stepped away."

He doesn't have anything to say to that. He knows it's true, you did step away despite it being an explicit rule not to, but he can't deny his part in it as well. He curls his fists as the silence continues.

"Why didn't you dodge his punch?" you ask, your voice quiet.

He's surprised by the question, but also by how quickly his cheeks warm up at his answer. He looks off to the side, hiding behind his hat as he says, "You were right behind me. If I moved, he would have just punched you."

You have the audacity to laugh, loud and full as if he had just told you the funniest joke you'd ever heard and he can't help but scowl.

"You know," you start, laughter still floating in your voice, "For someone with such a cold exterior, you sure are kind."

The compliment catches him off guard. His face whips towards you as his eyes open in shock, the faint blush now burning bright red across his whole face. He meets your eyes and he doesn't see any hint of a joke.

He's heard himself called a lot of things. Scary, cold, bitter, even downright malicious, but never kind. It sends shivers up his spine as the word settles somewhere under his skin. You think he's kind. Kind.

"You're my subordinate. I'm not being kind, I'm just doing my job as your Captain," he corrects, not wanting you to misunderstand his intentions.

Your laugh this time is softer, more full of fondness, but it rustles him all the same. "You really are kind though," you insist. He's not ready for you to continue, barely able to handle the few words you've said, but that's never stopped you before. "I think you care a lot more than you want us to think. You wouldn't worry so much otherwise. Besides, you're always going out of your way to protect us. I think that makes you kind."

He doesn't know what to say, so he tries to navigate back into familiar territory. He takes a deep breath and calms his nerves, grabbing the bag of medical herbs from your side and turning around to begin putting them away. "Well, since I've checked and you don't have any injuries, there's no reason for you to stay."

He hears you shuffling around as he begins unpacking the herbs from the bag and chances a glance over at you one more time. He regrets it immediately.

You're looking at him like you can see right through him. You have your painting tucked under your arm as you look over your shoulder at him in the doorway and you're still smiling at him as if he didn't just ignore your comment and dismiss you rather rudely. It makes his heart ache, wanting to prove you right. To prove that he is kind, that he's worthy of your opinion of him, that he's worthy of your praise.

"Thank you, Captain. I enjoyed your company today."

With that, you disappear down the hallway, presumably back to your shared room to hang up your new picture. He stares at the spot you left long after you've gone, your words echoing in his mind. They rattle around in his heart until they finally settle, leaving a warm comfort he didn't know he craved.

You think he's kind.

That thought plagues his mind for the rest of the day. His guilt is completely forgotten, his mind too consumed by your compliment to make any room for it. He finds himself unable to even focus on reading the medical book that night that he missed out on reading earlier. Your words and the simple fact that you truly believed them chip away at his resolve until he finally has to come to terms with why it affects him so much. He mumbles your name, his hand clutching his heart as it beats, solidifying what he'd been ignoring for a long, long time now.

ღ radishaur — i do not own any of these characters. do not plagiarize. please enjoy and remember to be respectful!

#luffy x reader #monkey d. luffy x reader #zoro x reader #roronoa zoro x reader #law x reader #trafalgar law x reader #one piece x reader #radishaur writes

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cheynovak · 1 day

Text

Sleeping beauty

Characters: Dean Winchester x Y/N Female character

Summary: REQUEST: Dean sees Y/N sleeping, in his bed, in his shirt and it drives him insane. The heat he feels rushing through his veins. And it's all because she looks so good while sleeping. He just can't keep his hands to himself.

Warnings: 18+ Explicit, Somno, mastrubating, unprotected P in V, slight dominance, ...

English is not my first language

*This story is my own original story, please do not copy my work, reblog/comments/likes are appreciated*

Dean pushed open the heavy metal door of the bunker with a quiet grunt, his entire body aching from the hunt. The long drive back had done nothing to ease the tension in his muscles, and the only thing on his mind was crashing in his bed. Dean pushed open the heavy metal door of the bunker with a quiet grunt, his entire body aching from the hunt. The long drive back had done nothing to ease the tension in his muscles, and the only thing on his mind was crashing in his bed.

It was late—really late. The dim lights of the bunker cast a soft, familiar glow over the stone walls, offering a kind of comfort he rarely admitted to feeling.

The hunt had been brutal, but it was over. For now, at least. He ran a hand through his tousled hair, feeling the grit of the day clinging to him like a second skin.

All he wanted was to crawl under his sheets and sleep for as long as his mind would allow, which wasn’t ever as long as he hoped.

Kicking off his boots near the war room, planning on taking a quick shower, just to clean up before going to bed. Or that was what he thought he'd do. He padded silently down the hall toward his room.

As he got closer, a sense of something different hit him—something warm, something familiar. The door to his room was slightly open, a thin warm light spilling into the hallway from the bedside lamp.

Dean's brow furrowed in confusion, but the weariness in his body kept him from thinking too much about it.Pushing the door open, he froze in the doorway.

There, nestled in the middle of his bed, lay Y/N.

She was on her side, facing away from him, curled up in the middle of his bed like she belonged there.

The soft fabric of his worn, oversized flannel shirt draped loosely over her body, the sleeves bunched around her hands.

The sheets were tangled between her legs, one knee tucked up and the other stretched out, the thin blanket doing little to hide her body. Her hair spilled across the pillow, framing her peaceful face.

Her hip and ass showing over the sheets since she wore little to nothing except a pair of panties, Oh god... what is she doing to me!

Dean couldn’t move. Couldn’t speak. His eyes glued on her body. A part of him was surprised, but another part—one he rarely allowed to surface—felt like this was right. Like seeing her here was what he needed after a hunt like that.

After a life like this. Come home, find her naked or nearly naked in bed, fuck her till he find sleep himself.

His gaze lingered on her for a moment longer. Before he silently took his fresh shirt and boxers to go shower. While he closed the door behind him softly he kept looking not to wake her.

His mind spiralled in the shower. Why was she there? Did she miss him or maybe her own hunt was shitty and she needed him?

But all he could think of was her curves, how her ass lifted in the air, calling his name. Dean's cock was throbbing, his hand moved instinctively to it, making the release quick and hard.

But the second he turned the shower off, thanks to his own vivid imagination, he was hard again.

He walked back to his room, half expecting Y/N to be gone. But no... she was still there, in the same position.

The soft rise and fall of her breath was the only sound in the room, the quiet rhythm calming something deep inside of him. She looked peaceful, completely at ease. It was such a stark contrast to the usual chaos of their lives. And she was in his bed, wearing his shirt.

She turned a little more, showing herself a little better. Dean’s lips quirked up into the faintest hint of a smile. She is asking for it.

He stepped forward quietly, not wanting to disturb her, and sat on the edge of the bed. The mattress dipped slightly beneath his weight, but Y/N only stirred for a second before settling back into her dreams.

She looked so small wrapped in his clothes, the shirt swallowing her frame, and the sight did something to his heart (and cock) he couldn’t quite explain.

For a while, Dean just watched her sleep. His eyes traced the soft lines of her face, the way her lashes brushed her cheeks, how her lips parted slightly with each breath. Hands hovering over her curves wanting to touch her skin.

He didn’t know how long he sat there, just soaking in the moment, but for once, there was no urgency. No looming threat, no ticking clock. Just her, and the quiet sound of their breathing. Unless he counted his erection as a ticking time bomb...

They often enough had a quick fuck during or after a hunt. Just to release stress, this wasn’t different, all though he tried to ignore the sensation his cock was giving him. Just releasing stress.

He leaned back slightly, his hand coming so close to touch her. The warmth of her skin was a stark contrast to the coolness of the room, and he found himself wondering again how she’d ended up here.

Did she miss him while he was gone? Had she come looking for comfort in his absence? Or was she desperately looking for sex. That wouldn't be a first.

They shared a bed... couch... car... They settled boundaries before. And this was something he knew she'd be into.

His hand now warm on her hip made her lean closer to him, showing him a little more.

His flannel hung loosely off her shoulder, exposing the smooth skin of her collarbone, seeing how she was naked under his shirt.

Fuck! Dean had to fight the urge to reach out, to touch her, to pull her close, to knead and feel her breasts, feel how her soft nipple hardened with his touch.

Instead, he let out a soft sigh and ran a hand down her leg.

Carefully, not to wake her, Dean turned beside her on the bed, The mattress shifted slightly, and Y/N stirred again, her brow furrowing for a moment before she relaxed once more. Dean turned on his side, facing her, his head resting on the pillow just inches from hers.

But he couldn't stop himself. His hand moved slowly, his fingers brushing a strand of hair from her face, tucking it gently behind her ear. The touch was so light, so careful, as if he was afraid of shattering the calm of the moment.

His fingers moved over her collarbone to her breast softly kneading her flesh.

As if sensing his presence even in her sleep, Y/N shifted closer to him. Her body instinctively pressed into his, her ass moving against his hips.

Dean’s breath hitched at the contact, the feel of her so close sending a warmth through him. Fuck he needed her!

She mumbled something incoherent in her sleep, her fingers curling slightly into the fabric of his sheets. Dean chuckled softly under his breath, a rare sound in the stillness of the room.

“You always steal my shirts.” he whispered, even though he knew she wouldn’t hear him. His voice was rough with exhaustion and need but soft, the kind of tone he only used when it was just the two of them.

"This time you'll need to pay for it princess." He whispered while his hand dipped between her legs. Unknowingly she let him, moving her leg a little higher. "Fuck you're so wet already... did you...?" his voice broke off.

Would she? The idea of her playing with herself in his bed, in his flanel drove him insane. Her breath became deeper while his fingers played with her. Drawing slow easy circles on her clit.

He tugged her panties aside, before he freed his throbbing dick from his boxers. No longer able to wait, he rubbed himself against her wet core. The feeling almost enough to come then and there.

Seeing how her panties get wet with their movement.

A soft moan escaped her mouth, "D-Dean?" her voice sounded sleepy. Her hand moved back, trying to find him, and she did, pretty easily she found the back of his head, pulling him closer.

His other arm slid under her, pulling her just a little closer, and she instinctively settled into him, her head now resting against his chest.

"Shh..." He whispered. He turned her on to her belly, granting himself more access. Her hand kneading the pillow while he adjusted himself. Pulling her panties further down. Kneading her ass, kissing her flesh.

He guided himself inside, feeling her thighten just a little by the surprise of him. Her body reacted, a soft "Mhm." escaped her mouth, not knowing weither she was fully awake or he'd just given her a great dream.

"D-Dean?" she moaned sleepy. "What are you...Oh!" He leaned in closer, thrusting all the way in "Just enjoy baby." He said before he kissed her neck. She was clearly awake now, pushing her ass up so he could thrust deeper.

His hand fisted her hair, "Do you have any fucking idea what you’re doing to me? Sleeping in my bed, halve naked."

"Mhm..."

"What did you think of when you tickled that pretty little cunt of yours." Her head lifted. He knew... but he bit playfully in her neck. to hold her down. @kr804573 @nancymcl@suckitands33 @mostlymarvelgirl @globetrotter28 @jackles010378 @hobby27 @call-me-mrs-winchester @winchesterwild78 @deans-baby-momma @soab1967 @livingdeadblondequeen @ladysparkles78

"I felt it... while you where sleeping, I felt how wet you where without me even touching you." A breathy "Oh." escaped her mouth.

"You wanted me to fuck your sleeping pussy didn't you."

All she could was moan in response.

"Yes..."

Please like, share or comment when you liked the story. If you liked this, please check out my masterlist for other stories.

Tag list:-> If you want to be added let me know what you like to read! If anyone feels like you're tagged too much, also let me know please. :) @yvonneeeee @kr804573 @nancymcl@suckitands33 @mostlymarvelgirl @globetrotter28

@jackles010378 @hobby27 @call-me-mrs-winchester @winchesterwild78

@deans-baby-momma @soab1967 @livingdeadblondequeen @ladysparkles78

#fanfic #x reader #supernatural dean #deanwinchester #dean #dean winchester x reader #dean smut #dean winchester fanfiction #request

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obsessedwhyyes · 2 days

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Beneath the Blood and Starlight

Summary: Awoken from a nightmare, you seek a moment of reprieve down by the river, only to find your mysterious vampire companion - covered in blood. As you help him with his mess, you realise that perhaps there's more to his rakish, teasing façade: a vulnerability that you had not anticipated. A moment of intimacy ensues.

Rating: T Word Count: 3096 Pairing: Astarion x GN!Reader Content: Act 1, pre-romance, fluff, early bonding, non-sexual intimacy, flirting, feral cat Astarion. Warning: Starts with a nightmare sequence featuring depictions of ceremorphosis, in case that's an issue.

A/N: What was meant to be a cute, fluffy little drabble grew arms and legs and turned into several thousand words. I wanted to explore some non-sexual intimacy, in the context of Act 1 where everyone is still learning about each other, so here we have some typical Act 1 Astarion flirting, some banter, and some exploration of Astarion - the person, rather than the vampire spawn.

It was a night like any other.

The campfire warmed the faces of the merry band of travelling companions you had accrued throughout the course of your journey. The strangest bedfellows one could ever imagine, but amidst the chaos of your journey up to now, the sound of laughter was a joyous reprieve; a rare moment of peace.

Your gaze was drawn inexorably to Astarion who sat across from you. Firelight danced across his pale skin as you watched him, and he caught your eye then. A mischievous smile played at the corners of his mouth and your heart fluttered, just a little.

“Darling,” he purred, raising a finger to point to you, “you’re bleeding.”

You were?

Your hand reached for your face, feeling a slickness trickling from your nose. Strange. You hadn’t noticed any pain.

Suddenly, the firelight seemed too bright, the laughter too loud.

Something was wrong.

You opened your mouth to speak, but your body was wracked instead with a fit of coughs. You could not breathe.

You doubled over, and an ache spread throughout your jaw - a pain unlike anything you had ever experienced. Your innards felt ready to burst out of you.

“Are you alright?” Astarion’s voice was tinged with an uncharacteristic concern. Moving quickly to your side, his cool hand cupped your cheek, tilting your face up to meet his gaze. But as your eyes met his, you recoiled in horror.

A mindflayer.

Where Astarion’s once beautiful face had been, you were greeted with orange eyes, burning with malice, sharp teeth like cut glass within a tentacled maw, and slickened, wet skin. Yet, his voice remained the same, teasing and rakish - a jarring contrast that set your heart pounding, limbs begging you to flee.

You tried to scream, but your jaw felt wrong. It cracked, a sickening sound that reverberated through your skull. The pain was excruciating, blinding. Something writhing and slick attempted to push its way out of your throat and you choked.

Astarion-Not-Astarion’s hand, still cool against your feverish skin, stroked your cheek almost tenderly. “That’s it,” he cooed, his voice a twisted parody of his usual flirtatious drawls, “embrace the change.”

You looked around wildly. All of your companions had transformed, their familiar faces replaced by disgusting, terrifying… No, beautiful, evolved, magnificent alien features.

“Change,” they chanted. “Change. Change…”

You bolted upright, a strangled gasp escaping your lips. Cold sweat drenched your skin as you wildly scanned your surroundings. The familiar sight of your tent came into focus.

Your heart pounded in your chest as realisation set in. A dream. It was a dream.

It was a night like any other.

And that was precisely the problem.

Sleep, you decided, was no longer an option.

There was a river in the woods nearby and you were in desperate need to cleanse yourself of the sweat which clung to your still shivering body. Or rather, you needed something, anything to distract yourself. And so, packing washcloths, you left the confines of your tent and snuck away into the woodlands.

–

The sound of running water called to you, a moment of solace drawing nearer. Or so you thought, until a familiar figure came into view.

It was Astarion, sitting by the river's edge, moonlight gleaming across his pale… Bare skin.

Assuming you'd stumbled in on something you shouldn't have, you averted your gaze hastily, a blush crawling up your neck. “A-ah, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to intrude!”

“It's just my shirt, darling. No need for such modesty.” Astarion’s voice carried a hint of amusement, clearly privy to your embarrassment.

A moment passed as you attempted to recompose yourself. Looking up, he was indeed just shirtless.

Thank the gods for that.

As you drew closer to him, you noticed the blood smeared across his face - evidence of a recent hunt.

Truth be told, he was a bit of a mess. Crimson streaks painted his cheeks and chin, with a particularly gruesome splatter across his left temple. Some of it had begun to dry, flaking at the edges. It was a stark, almost beautiful contrast against his pale skin - a reminder of the predator that lurked beneath his charming exterior.

You sat across from him, trying to ignore the way the moonlight played across his bare chest.

His lips curled into a smirk. “Out for a midnight stroll or were you just hoping to catch me in a compromising position?”

You rolled your eyes, though you were grateful for the familiar banter. You tried not to recall the events of your nightmare, the lingering tendrils of which still threatened to send you into a blinding panic. In a way, you were grateful to have stumbled across Astarion on your journey out here. As much as you told yourself otherwise, being alone was perhaps not what you needed right now.

“I just needed some fresh air,” you said, less than eager to give away the finer details of your predicament.

Your gaze fell on a needle and thread beside him, and a hole in his shirt draped across his lap.

“What happened?” You asked, nodding to his shirt, in a hasty attempt to change the subject.

“Ah, this? I was unfortunate enough to get tangled up with a particularly feral boar this evening. The little bastard didn't get very far though.”

Well, you thought to yourself, that explains the blood.

As he picked up the needle and resumed his repairs, long fingers moving with practised ease, you found yourself curious. “I didn't know you could sew.”

“I'm a man of many talents. I'd be happy to give you a… private demonstration, if you like.”

You sighed in mock exasperation. “Isn't it exhausting trying to talk your way into my trousers all the time?”

“Who says I was trying to talk my way into your trousers?” Astarion gleamed.

You fixed him with a doubtful look, eyebrow raised. In response, he reached into his pack which rested behind him, and pulled out a handkerchief, handing it to you. As you unfolded it, you gasped. Delicate florals, intricate patterns adorned the fabric, embroidered with a meticulous care and skill that you would have attributed to the tailors and seamstresses of Baldur's Gate’s Upper City. It was as if he had captured the essence of a moonlit garden, with silvery threads weaving a tapestry of nocturnal blooms and shadowy vines.

“Gods, Astarion. You made this?”

He nodded, a flicker of genuine pride crossing his features.

“It's beautiful,” you breathed as you ran your fingers across the stitches. “What a wonderful talent to have.”

Something shifted in Astarion’s expression - a flash of vulnerability quickly masked.

“Yes, well, one must find ways to pass the time. Keep it, if you like,” Astarion continues, attempting to feign disinterest. The look in his eyes told a different story.

“Thank you,” you said. You meant it.

A moment of silence passed between you, punctuated by the gentle bubbles and burbles of the river as it flowed.

“I don't think I have any special talents of my own,” you mused, more to yourself than to him.

Astarion glanced up, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Oh, I'm sure you have some hidden talents. I'd be more than happy to help you explore them, if you like. In my tent, perhaps?”

You raised an eyebrow, holding his gaze.

Astarion grinned, unabashed. “That time, I was trying to talk my way into your trousers.”

You laughed then and gods, did it feel good to laugh on a night like this, even with the familiar feeling of heat rising to your cheeks. This dance between you - this constant push-and-pull - had become almost comforting in its familiarity. Of course, you had considered his offer - he had not exactly been subtle about his intentions with you. But you weren't quite ready to give in. Not yet, anyway.

Your laughter settled, and something in the mood shifted as Astarion turned his gaze from you to the river.

“Truth be told, Cazador didn't give us much beyond the clothes on our backs. I had to learn some things for myself.”

The admission hung heavy in the air. His voice was uncharacteristically soft, despite the venom that laced his voice at his former master’s name.

“I'm sorry,” you said softly. Once again, you meant it.

He shrugged, forcing a lightness into his tone. “It’s not all bad. Using my hands to create something beautiful - it's a welcome distraction. It lets me feel… well, not good, but less terrible for a while.”

You nodded. You never knew quite what to say in these moments. Astarion had only recently begun to open up to you regarding his past, and each story drew forth a maelstrom of emotions from you. Sadness at the gods-awful role he was thrust into; guilt at not having been there for him sooner; anger, not only at Cazador, but at those who had the opportunity to save him but chose not to, as though his vampiric nature made him less worthy of the safety that all who live, crave. You could only imagine the feelings which raged like a tempest in him.

It was in moments like these that you had to admire just how brave he really was.

You were snapped out of your ruminations when Astarion finished his mending. You caught a glimpse of a sharp, pointed fang as he used it to cut the thread - an action which shouldn't have been as fascinating as it was.

He stood and slipped on his shirt.

“Well?” He asked, with a twirl and a flourish. “What do you think?”

“Perfect as always,” you replied, then paused. “Except for, well, the blood on your face.”

Astarion’s eyes widened in indignation. “And you're only mentioning this now?”

You shrugged, fighting back a grin. “I thought the feral look rather suited you.”

“You absolute freak,” he scoffed, but there was no real heat behind the words.

“I can help if you want.”

As you dug into your pack to procure a washcloth, your intentions clear, Astarion’s reaction was immediate and visceral. He recoiled as if you'd brandished a weapon, his eyes narrowing with suspicion.

“Absolutely not.”

Pride and uncertainty marred his voice. You recognised the look in his eyes - the same wary glance of a feral cat, torn between the desire for help and the instinct to flee.

“Come on,” you coaxed, keeping your voice soft, even. “It's not like you can look in a mirror.”

You had hoped humour would de-escalate the situation.

It did not.

For a moment, anger flashed in his eyes - a cornered predator lashing out. But as he met your gaze, something in his expression shifted. The fury melted to uncertainty, then a flicker of longing so brief you almost missed it.

Astarion’s body language was a mess of contradictions. He leaned slightly towards you, as if drawn by an invisible thread, only to catch himself and pull back. His hands clenched and unclenched at his sides.

“This is ridiculous,” he muttered, but the words lacked his usual bite. “I don't need– I mean, I'm perfectly capable of–”

“If you don't need my help, that's okay. We don't have to do this if you don't want to.”

Astarion’s eyes darted between your face and the cloth, held loosely in your hand. He opened his mouth, closed it, then opened it again.

“Why?” He asked.

The question hung in the air between you, heavy with unspoken meaning. Why are you helping me? Why care?

“Because I want to,” you answered simply.

Something in Astarion’s expression cracked then, a hairline fracture in his carefully constructed façade. He gave a jerky nod, not quite meeting your eyes.

“Well,” he said, his tone aiming for nonchalance but missing by a mile, “if you insist on playing nursemaid, who am I to stop you? Though I warn you, darling, caring for me can be a dangerous pastime.”

The words were pure Astarion - flirtatious, guarded, with a hint of threat. The words weren't quite acceptance, but they were close enough.

“I'll take my chances,” you teased softly, patting the ground beside you, prompting him to sit.

He complied with an obvious reluctance, perching on the edge of the riverbank as if the ground might swallow him whole.

As you wetted your washcloth in the river and moved closer to him - close enough to feel his cool breath on your skin - you notice him tense at the anticipation of your touch. His eyes were squeezed shut, face turned slightly away from you. But you were gentle as you placed the cloth to his cheek and began to wipe away the streaks of crimson from his face.

The sounds of the world around you dulled, faded to a murmur as you tended to him, as though the leaves had stilled their rustling and the river its gurgling. In this moment of suspended reality, your focus narrowed to Astarion’s face and the myriad of emotions playing across it.

His hesitation, his vulnerability - it struck you how monumental this simple act truly was. Here was a man - a vampire - who had known centuries of cruelty; who had learned to weaponise his charm and keep the world at arm’s length for his safety. And yet, he was allowing you to see him like this: uncertain, teetering at the edge of trust.

The weight of his concession settled over you like a blanket. Each micro-expression that flickered across his features told a story of internal struggle - the tightening of his jaw, the slight furrow of his brow, the way his eyes squeezed shut as if bracing for pain that wouldn't come. It was a dance of contradictions; a battle between ingrained distrust and a longing for gentleness.

In this frozen moment, you realised that what you were offering wasn't just a clean face. It was acceptance, care, a touch unburdened by expectation or demand. And for Astarion, perhaps accepting it was an act of bravery greater than any he'd shown in battle.

With careful strokes, you cleaned the blood away from his cheek. You worked slowly, mindful of the tension in his jaw. Gradually, almost imperceptibly, he began to relax under your ministrations.

“Turn your head for me?” You asked, softly.

Astarion complied without a word, tilting his face to give you access to the other cheek. His eyes remained closed, but the furrow in his brow had softened.

You resumed your task, gently working your way across his features. A stubborn smear of dried blood at the corner of his mouth, another at the hollows of his cheekbones, droplets that had spattered at his forehead - all melted away before your eyes with each glide of the wet cloth, unveiling his pale skin.

As you worked, you found yourself studying him in a way you never had before. His elven features were a study in contrasts - ethereal beauty intertwined with the weathering of time and hardship. High cheekbones caught the moonlight, throwing delicate shadows across his face. His skin, where it wasn't marred by blood, was like polished alabaster, smooth and luminous.

As you gently moved to cleanse his temple, your fingertips brushed against a strand of his hair - silk curls spun from starlight.

Yet it was the imperfections that truly drew you in. Fine lines crinkled at the corners of his eyes, like a map of laughter and sorrow etched by the years. His brow, while regal, bore the weight of exhaustion, a testament to the burdens he carried.

There was something mesmerising in the juxtaposition - this timeless, otherworldly beauty marked by the unmistakable signs of an unlife born of hardships and losses yet unspoken between you. But each line, each weary shadow, only served to enhance a grace that time and pain could never fully erase.

Your hand paused, cloth hovering near his cheek, as you realised you'd been lost in studying him. In that moment, beneath the moon’s gentle gaze and the river’s whispered song, you saw not just the elf; the vampire; the mysterious travelling companion, but the man - beautiful, vulnerable, and utterly captivating.

Astarion’s eyes fluttered open, catching you in your reverie. For a heartbeat, neither of you moved. The air between you was filled with unspoken words and possibilities.

It was… intimate.

“See something you like, darling?” Astarion’s voice was soft, lacking its usual sharp edge of sarcasm. There was a vulnerability in his gaze that made your breath catch.

You smiled softly, resuming your gentle ministrations.

“Just making sure I didn't miss any spots.”

You weren't quite ready to voice the thoughts swirling in your mind.

A comfortable silence settled between you, broken only by rippling sounds of water as you periodically dipped your washcloth in the river to wring it out.

As you shifted to clean the last traces of blood, you finally looked up again to meet Astarion’s gaze fully.

“There,” you said, “I knew there was a handsome man somewhere under all that filth.”

Astarion’s lips quirked into a smile - not his usual smirk, but something softer.

“Well, I suppose I should thank you for your… attentions,” he murmured.

The moment stretched between you, fragile and charged with possibility. For a heartbeat, you thought he might lean in; might close the distance between you. But the moment passed, leaving behind a mix of relief and something that felt dangerously close to disappointment.

You cleared your throat, breaking the spell.

“We should probably head back to camp,” you suggested, your voice steadier than you felt.

Astarion nodded, rising to his feet with his usual grace. As you gathered your things, you felt his eyes on you, thoughtful and considering.

“You know,” he said as you started back through the woods, “I think you might have one hidden talent.”

You glanced back at him, raising an eyebrow in question.

His smile was enigmatic, tinged with something you couldn't quite name.

“You have a remarkable ability to surprise me. And that… that is no small feat.”

As you made your way back to camp, the weight of your nightmare felt lighter. And if you walked a little closer to Astarion than strictly necessary, well, that was just to avoid tripping in the dark. Nothing more.

It was a night like any other and yet, as you settled back into your bedroll, you couldn't shake the feeling that something had shifted between you and Astarion. A new understanding, perhaps, or the first trembling notes of a melody yet to be fully composed. Whatever it was, it sang you to sleep, keeping the nightmares at bay just this once.

No Pressure Tag List: @roguishcat @silverfangmarks @sparrowbard

#astarion x reader #astarion ancunin #astarion x tav #astarion x gn reader #astarion fanfic #astarion fanfiction #bg3 fanfiction #baldur's gate 3 #astarion fluff

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yestrday · 15 hours

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: ̗̀➛ DESPERATION INCARNATE yan! xiao / gn! reader

in every life, he had sworn to protect you. in every life, he had failed. in this life, he'll make sure that it won't happen again. to keep the you in this life from ever slipping away from him like you did so many times before.

in which xiao falls in love with you in every life and slowly goes insane.

( reincarnation au, w4r, lots of blo0dshed and decápitation, graphic description of vi0lence, mention of xiao's sl4very, deáth... lots of it, sort of enabler aether but for a lil bit, the beginnings of a yandere, angst. lots of it as well )

“you know, yéyé says that if you make a wish on a dandelion seed, then your wishes will come true!”

the unnamed adeptus fixes his golden gaze on a fellow prisoner, sitting across from him with a bright smile. the prisoners around them have given up already, with their dull, glazed eyes and the repeated prayers of deàth spilling from their cracked lips. but this odd one, although their face caked with grime and their hair matted from bloòd, smiles at him from the darkness.

“... dandelion seed?” he goes, not bothering to wince or be embarrassed by his raspy voice. this dull life strips you of your dignity and pride. there’s no use in saving face when you’re looking at deàth right in the eyes. “i have never heard of such a thing.”

“oh, you don’t know?” the little prisoner cocks their head at him. “it’s a curious thing! it’s a flower with fluffy petals covering the middle part. yéyé said that whenever he takes a walk on the borders between liyue and mondstadt, he’d pick some for himself and make a wish!”

the adeptus scoffs. “wishes have no place in my world. actions must be taken if you want results. your grandfather sounds foolish. now be quiet, lest you want the god to take care of that noisy tongue of yours.”

his fellow mate sticks said tongue out at him and gives him a dirty glare. “how rude! my yéyé is the smartest one in our village, you know. he takes a record of all the crops harvested. he’s veeery important! besides, don’t you want to know what he wished for?”

he sighs. it wouldn’t hurt to indulge this one’s yapping for a little more time. the painful groans were starting to take a toll on him and conversation, no matter how foolish the premise sounded, was a nice change of pace. even if his throat was hurting from use because of the god’s neglect to give them drinkable water. “what is it, then?”

they grin at him. “he wished for mondstadt’s harsh winds to disappear! isn’t he cool?”

“why wouldn’t he use the wish for himself?” he cocks his head. “it seems to be more efficient and logical.”

the little prisoner stares at them from behind their bars.

“... what.”

“you are so dull to talk to.”

ugh, this little—! they were the one who started the conversation! before alatus could snap something back, they fall back dramatically and shake their head at him in a pitying manner. “wishes aren’t made to be efficient and logical, stupid! they won’t always work! that’s why they’re just wishes!”

he decides that this thing is absolutely aggravating to talk to, but he won’t deny that he likes their company. “then what’s the use of doing something so useless?”

they laugh. it echoes through their cell, a pleasant tune before it escapes through the bars and gets lost in the sad symphony of groans and lifeless pleas. they continue to laugh like they were underneath liyue’s vast blue skies instead of an underground tomb. “isn’t it obvious, mister adeptus? it’s for hope!

“if you wish on a dandelion and blow the seeds away, your wish will be carried for all of teyvat to hear! and then– and then! even if it’s just a teeny bit of hope, you’ll start to feel that everything can be possible!”

“sounds inefficient.”

“that’s why i said you’re so dull to talk to.”

“hmph.”

“i don’t understand why you keep coming back down here, mister adeptus,” comes the familiar cheery voice of his once prison mate. the surrounding cells are all empty, filled with corpses of the dead long gone. the young god has no time to spare any thought for the useless mortals hanging in his underground prison. the adeptus slides a tray of milk and bread between the bars and into the lap of a grinning face.

even you, he thinks as he examines their sallow face and dry lips. you have been forgotten.

“you have plenty of companions upstairs. shouldn’t you be celebrating and parading around with them? i heard through the cracks that you’ve got plenty of rice wine to waste.”

“they are not my companions,” he snaps, but they don’t flinch as they snack on the food. “they’re fools who waste their time mindlessly partying and deriving pleasure from the pain of the weak. and i’m… i am nothing more than the god’s plaything.”

he sinks to the ground, sighing. “... [your name],” he whispers, staring at them tearfully from behind bars. “i will get us out of here, i promise.” his hands, shaking and caked with blood, gently reach for their cheek. it’s rough and awfully thin, and something in his chest breaks whenever he sees such a beautiful thing covered in dirt like they were nothing. “i’ll get you back to your village. i’ll make sure that you’ll see your grandfather and your siblings again.”

their hands squeeze his lightly, not having the energy to reciprocate his tenderness like they used to. “i know,” they whisper back to him. they smile up at him, though it is now weak and shaky. “... your hair is green.”

his brows knit together in confusion, but they brush back a few stray strands and smile at the feel of it in their palm. “... i’ve never seen a dandelion, you know. but my yéyé says that dandelions are green. i don’t know if it’s this shade of green but…” you close your eyes and chuckle. “it’s nice to know that i have my own dandelion right in front of me.”

“...?!”

“my dandelion… i have a wish to make,” you mumble to him. alatus closes in, ready to serve you your heart’s deepest desires.

“anything… anything you want, [your name], i’ll make it come true. so…!”

“smile for me, will you?” you peer up at him, watching confusion take over his delicate yet rough features. “you always look so sad. as my dearest friend…

“my only wish is that i see you smile. even if it’s just once.”

the adeptus returns the next day, milk and bread on a tray once more. they are wasted on the floor.

a corpse smiles from the shadows of the cell.

he thinks back to the wish he couldn’t fulfill yesterday. try as he might, it’s hard to stretch his lips into a genuine smile.

maybe it’s because he’s collapsed on the ground, yelling in pain as his whole world blissfully sleeps in the corner.

maybe it’s because whenever he tries to smile, it doesn’t feel right.

not when there’s no one to smile for anymore.

the end is nowhere in sight, yet rex lapis keeps pushing forward.

alatus’ spear plunges into the guts of the demons, spurting black blood over his lithe body as he pulls it out. around him, his fellow yakshas are also hard at work. bosacius tears bodies apart with his four bare hands, splattering more blood and leaving a gruesome sight behind. menogias clicks his tongue and furrows his eyes at the electro yaksha in disapproval.

“can’t you be a bit more graceful, bosacius?” he steps out of the way as bonanus and indarias team up to fling a particularly mighty foe across his way. “these corpses are dismal to look at!”

bosacius laughs boisterously, hoisting an enemy up in the air and cracking their skull on a rock in one fell swoop. “i can’t be bothered, brother! this is the way bosacius fights! with bare hands and strength! corpses are not meant to be looked at anyway!” crack. crack. the gruesome sounds of his fighting are lost in the sounds of war around them.

with a clever twist of his body, alatus sends a corpse to the four-handed idiot to which he skillfully catches without even sparing a glance. “less talking, more fighting,” he says ever so curtly. “rex lapis requires our immediate assistance. do not dally.”

bosacius and menogias send each other a knowing glance, quite familiar with alatus’ undying loyalty to their senior adeptus. the fighting continues and alatus continues to let himself get lost in the chaos, never minding the mysterious ache that binds his chest tighter and tighter with every demon purged. when the battle is won, no one celebrates. it’s hard to, when you feel the blood of the thousands you have massacred drying on your skin. alatus approaches rex lapis, his toned back shadowed by the rising sun as he overlooks the aftermath of the war.

“you’ve fought well, alatus,” rex lapis’ deep voice acknowledges him, brown eyes still steady on the horizon. “you do well to keep the contract.”

“i do not need a contract to serve you, rex lapis,” alatus starts humbly, lowering his gaze in respect. “i owe you my freedom and life.”

“you say that, yet i now have you enslaved to kill for another cause. to me, there is no difference.” rex lapis casts a glace on his most loyal follower. “yet you say that i have given you freedom.”

alatus takes note of the dry bitterness underneath rex lapis’ otherwise gravel tone. “i have signed the contract of my own free will,” he professes, daring to gaze his golden eyes into his lord’s similar ones. “you need not worry about me, my lord.”

rex lapis chuckles, before beckoning alatus to his side. “look at her harsh winds and cold peaks,” the senior adeptus muses. “our nation is blessed with vast plains and tall mountains, but our neighbors shoulder the bitter cold while fighting their side of the archon war.”

“indeed,” alatus could only say. “but your victory is sure now, my lord. soon you will rebuild liyue to glory once you’ve taken the seat of the seven.”

“mmm, yes,” rex lapis hums. “the war nears its end. seven victors from different nations, including bitter and wintry mondstadt. i wonder what sort of archon will rise from mondstadt. our borders are joined together— while violetgrass root themselves on the stony sides of our mountains, their dandelions withstand harsh winds even as their seeds threaten to fly. perhaps their new archon can give them a home where they can grow unbothered, while i build our citizens to be as resilient as a violetgrass.”

… dandelions…

“apologies for the unnecessary question, my lord, but… have you seen a dandelion?”

“oh, they’re curious little things indeed. native to mondstadt. if guizhong had time, she used to walk by the borders and pluck them to make a wish.”

alatus’s breath hitches at the familiar tale. “... what did she wish for, if i would be permitted to know?”

rex lapis’ lips turn into a half-smile, hardened eyes softening at the memories of a dear friend long gone. “she wished for liyue to prosper under my rule. never used a wish on herself.”

“... huh.” the wind blows back alatus’s matted hair, revealing forlorn eyes as they gaze at the sun. “... i wonder why they all do that.”

“does this all sound familiar to you, alatus?” the younger adeptus looks up to see his lord gazing at him with a soft look. alatus shakes his head and straightens his back, taking on the stance of a soldier once again.

“no. this is not the time for me to be concerned with another nation’s trivialities.” he bows his head to the adeptus and starts to make his exit. he doesn’t know why, but a gloved hand takes one of the stray strands of hair self-consciously and turns back to rex lapis. “another question… if i may be so impudent to ask.”

“impudence is not a word to be used on you, alatus. go ahead.”

for a moment, alatus’s confused and conflicted face makes him look like the young adeptus rex lapis saved from the hands of a cruel god. now he is not a battle-hardened soldier, but a lost boy who doesn’t know what to do. “... is the shade of my hair… similar to that of a dandelion?”

the older adeptus cocks his head at the unusual question. “far from it, no.” he studies alatus’s look of disappointment as he lets go of the strand. “why do you ask?”

“... nothing, my lord.”

moments of respite like this are rare in this current era of warfare, so soldiers cherish every single second of it. but for alatus who has only known bloodshed ever since his days at the mercy of the young god, this temporary peacefulness is a waste of time. in a camp just outside of liyue harbor, alatus and his fellowmen idle around a crackling campfire.

“you’re too fidgety, alatus-gē,” pervases laughs as he takes a bite out of his grilled ticker fish. he raises one to alatus’s face. “care for one?” when the senior adeptus scowls and turns his head away, he shrugs and scoffs it down stick and all in one gulp. “more for me then.”

“those malevolent gods continue to let their underlings rampage as we sit here and idle,” alatus frowned at the seemingly peaceful campsite of his fellow yakshas and even a few outstanding mortal warriors. “we should be making plans and calling reinforcements. the war will not end unless we bring that monster down to its watery grave.”

“oh my,” comes a motherly sigh. a young woman with silvery gray hair smiles slyly at alatus. her slender figure stretches across the log serving as a seat in front of the campfire, the cleansing bell tinkling delicately at her side. “you youngsters are quite eager to get into danger these days. not everyone has the energy to keep battling, you know? why i—” she sighs mournfully, pressing her fingers to a supple cheek “— even i need my beauty sleep. charging into the fray daily with no rest is just too much!”

“ping,” he addresses the newcomer. “i see that you are as vain as ever. if you’re not willing to put your all into this war, why did you even enter the contract?”

“i am upholding my end of the contract,” huffs ping. “but only within reason! you’re the one who’s out of reason.” she waves him off with her hand, shooing him off like a stray dog. “take a walk or something. call it a night patrol to ease yourself. i’m afraid your scowl is going to affect me and give me wrinkles.”

alatus takes a good moment to ponder the suggestion before he feels ping’s eyes narrowing at him threateningly. with a deep sigh, he takes his spear with him and teleports himself to a quiet walkway some ways off the guili assembly. war had touched this side of liyue too, it seemed, with swords rusted with blood plunged to the ground and tattered kerchiefs belonging to soldiers waving solemnly in the air. alatus knows this place to once been the safe haven of rex lapis and the late guizhong’s people before the war took the sweet goddess’ life and perished her to dust. now it is mere ruins, a reminder of the evil deities are willing to commit for power.

alatus has years of battle experience under his belt, but it doesn’t make the feeling any better as he stares at these relics. he focuses his gaze on the moon and walks by.

… rumble rumble…

a weathering wall shakes just a few steps away, alerting alatus’s senses. he quickly arms his spear as he vigilantly approaches the spot. the place is teeming with ruin guards and other dangerous mechanisms and although mindless machines are no match for him, alatus is not one to underestimate an opponent. when he peeks around the corner, it is not the eerie glowing eye of a machine but a pair of eyes about to glaze over.

covered in soot and dirt, a raspy voice tries to speak out, “w… wa… ter…”

alatus blinks in surprise when he finds a human instead but quickly teleports somewhere to get drinkable water. in a moment, he appears again in front of them and swiftly tips the saucer into their mouth. gently lifting their head, he watches as they desperately glug down the water. some of it spills from the sides, but the light in their eyes quickly revives until they pull away with a gasp.

“ugh… ha! i thought i was a goner there!”

alatus freezes.

two shining [eye color] eyes peer up at him gratefully as a wide grin spreads across their face.

“thanks a lot, mister adeptus.”

they are escorted into liyue harbor. alatus does not talk to them or even spare them a glance, afraid of whatever feelings that may arise should he do so. he’s aware of the curious glance they send his way, scrutinizing his every inch. he doesn’t like how they stare at him with awe and absolute trust. this is an era of warring gods, where adepti like him dig into flesh and blood to pursue their ambition. fools who cling to whoever feeds them die easily.

they continue staring. it feels like fire as his guilt and memories long pushed away pour from his heart and threaten to consume him whole. his steps feel heavier, as if any second now and the earth will cave in and send him straight to hell. unconsciously, his eyes glance back to them and they… smile.

it hurts.

flashes of a corpse long gone come back to him and he tears his eyes away. he shakes this haunting feeling away, yet their stare that bears the weight of decades' guilt continues to burden him all the way to camp.

"ping," he says gruffly, catching the attention of the group. everyone's a bit startled at the arrival of a newcomer, a dusty and malnourished one at that, but even more so that alatus decided to trek uphill instead of just conveniently teleporting himself. "take care of this one," is all he curtly says before plopping down underneath a tree and closing his eyes.

ping huffs in disdain and gives him a dirty look, but quickly changes it to give the newcomer a warm smile. “come now, sweetie,” she coos, placing a comforting palm on the small of their back and escorting them to the bonfire. “you’re positively shivering! it makes sense, given that that yaksha’s always so cold.” at this alatus grunts, but she doesn’t pay him any mind. “here’s some soup and a blanket to cover you with. my gosh, you’re so dirty! what have you been doing? playing around in the mud?”

you eagerly take her up on her offer, and soon you’re swaddled in a thick blanket and bowl of carrot soup to enjoy in front of the fire. “i was actually studying some of the leftover ruins at the assembly. i thought that maybe i could get some useful things and use them for myself.”

ping gasps dramatically at your story– a young adult scrapping for leftovers in the middle of the war– and alatus rolls his eyes. “poor, poor thing!” she cries and draws you in for a hug. “don’t worry. here at morax’s camp, you won’t have to suffer through that anymore! you’ll be cared for until we can find a suitable place for you and the other survivors to live!”

you laugh. “i think you have the wrong impression, ms. adeptus, i’ve had it pretty easy compared to others during this war. what i’ve been scrapping are materials!”

ping cocks her head, and alatus even peeks out from the tree he’s hiding behind. “materials, darling?”

“yes! screws, tree bark, metal, you name it. i’m finding them so i can continue making my gadgets.” you fish into your bag, and they can hear the clanking of metal and other stuff as you sift through the mess. “ah, here it is, one of my favorites!” you pull out a curious box, the cuhui wood engraved with liyuean details. you gently snap the box open and reveal a little figurine made out of precious stone, frozen in an elegant twirl reminiscent of liyue’s traditional dances. you begin to crank the little knob at its side, and when you release it a pleasant tinkling of sounds fills the night air.

ping stares wide-eyed at the pretty treasure, listening to its sounds with a fond look on her face. even pervasive hums as he gnaws on his nth fish, his scratchy voice humming along with the old lullaby. other nearby campers close their eyes and let their minds wander for a while, to a place where lullabies such as this sang all day and wars didn’t raze grass and civilians to the ground. for a moment, they let themselves be deluded into a moment of peace.

when the tinkling fades away, only the crackling of the fire remains. “pretty, isn’t it?” it takes ping a moment to snap out of her trance before nodding enthusiastically.

“quite! oh, if it didn’t look so perfect slotted between your hands, i might have snatched it for myself! although,” she nervously chuckles, feeling the stern gaze of the silent adeptus lounging behind the tree. “i might not have the chance anyway. a certain someone has been glaring at me ever since i conceived the thought.”

“maybe he wants it for himself?” pervases jokes. “he could do with it, what with all that stress.”

“hmph, i’ve no need for such trivial things.” he goes back to resting against the trunk without another word.

ping sighs and shakes her head at you, like a disappointed mother. “he’s always like that,” she laments. “he’s morax’s most faithful servant, i’ll tell you that, but sometimes it makes me wonder what will happen after this war is over. surely he won’t be going around slaughtering monsters?!” she raises her hand to her mouth like the thought was too unforgivable.

pervases hummed, thinking hard and long about how his senior would act in a time of peace. “hmm… i think alatus-ge would like to fish. he seems like the type.”

the image of the bloody general fishing floats above your three heads. ping waves it away. “as if!” she scoffs. “he’d just spear the fish and be done with it!”

“what kind of person do you think alatus-ge is…?”

“alatus, alatus!”

something twists at his gut, a mix of anticipation and dread, but he stops in his tracks to wait for you. you catch your breath beside him. “you’re so fast for someone so short!” you complain. “how do you do it?”

“slowness isn’t an option on the battlefield,” alatus curtly says before turning to assess. you’re covered head to toe in dirt, and your fingers are covered in grime like you’ve been digging. he sighs and rubs a speck of dirt from your cheek. “another one of your foraging hunts? you can always tell me if you need something. it’s too dangerous outside the camp.”

“i used to tell you, didn’t i?” you pout. “but you can’t tell the difference between a cork and a screw!”

alatus blushes. he can’t really wrap his head around these machineries. whenever you and cloud retainer got into one of your excited conversations about tinkering and machinery, alatus could only pretend like everything you just said didn’t make his head spin. if you got into another of your rants about the intricacies of machines or whatever, everything you said went into one ear and out the other.

“but you still listen, don’t you?” ping and pervases teased him with knowing grins. he had hit them over the head after that.

“... tus! alatus! ugh, you’re not listening again!” you had gotten into a lecture of the differences between corks and screws, but now you shake him by the shoulder with furrowed brows. “you’re always like this. is machinery really too hard for you?”

“everyone has their strengths.” he ruffles your hair, smiling softly when you visibly relax. “you wouldn’t want me to tell you about how to efficiently kill geovishaps, do you?” when you make a face, he laughs slightly. “thought so.”

“they just… ugh. they just smell so bad!”

“... they smell like rocks.”

as the two of you finish the rest of his patrol, alatus doesn’t miss a moment to watch your every movement. here, under the red rays of dusk, you look so alive. your cheeks could be healthier, but alatus is comforted with the knowledge that you stuffed yourself full this morning. your eyes have a twinkle in them, not the last sparks of ember that you had tried to hold on for so long. and you smile… because you want to. not because you had to. not because you had to comfort your fellow friend in prison.

“looks like we’ve walked too far,” alatus comments, sighting the dandelions swaying in the distance. “we should head back to camp before it gets too dark.”

“oooh, dandelions,” you muse. you and alatus stand side by side, taking in the dandelions swaying in their pastel heads swaying in the wind. “i heard they were pretty, but seeing them in person is better.”

standing by your side, alatus takes in your countenance. there is an indistinguishable look in your eyes as you watch their seeded heads bob and sway, your smile somewhere between content and forlorn. the setting sun paints your face with an orange hue, only serving to make you look as if you’ve come out of an oil painting itself. alatus’s breath hitches and he tears his eyes away from you.

self-consciously, he rubs a teal strand of his hair before tucking it back. “do… does my hair…” you turn your gaze to him questioningly, and his pale face burns at the embarrassing predicament he’s put himself in. “does my hair look like the dandelions?”

you stare at him for quite some time, only blinking and not saying anything, before you tilt your head back and laugh. alatus’s face only reddens further and he hits you with his elbow in his embarrassment. you only continue to laugh, even as alatus is beginning to throttle you and beg you to pay no heed to his words. when you’re done laughing, alatus huffs at you and refuses to look at you.

“oh, you… silly adeptus, i would have mistaken you for a pure-hearted maiden there!” you giggle into your hand, and alatus’s brows knit themselves in huffiness as you continue to tease him. “come on, you have eyes. they’re not even close in color!”

he kicks you lightly in the shin, before turning around and walking off to the distance. “come on. let’s head to camp before night,” he says as if nothing’s happened. you stare at his back for a while, a teasing smile on your face, before shaking it off and hurrying to catch up to him. when you catch up to him, you leap at him with your arms around his neck, ruffling his hair with a bright smile on your face.

“don’t be too grumpy, alatus!” you laugh, even as he sends you a look of frustration. “once this is all over, we’ll come back to this place and make wishes on those dandelions!”

“don’t forget about me, mister servant,” you lightly laugh behind your bars. “bring me lots of food, okay? then once you get me outta here, we’ll have a big ol’ feast at my yéyé’s.”

one of the guards tug at alatus’s shackles but he clings to your cell even as they grunt and pull. “[your name], i’m not leaving you! i can’t! i won’t!”

you chuckle. “stupid mister adeptus. who’s going to swipe cake for me then? now go, shoo.” you wave him away, smiling weakly. “i know you’ll come back for me. you always will.”

you’ve always had a knack for being the unluckiest person alive. even if your smile was so bright that it seemed to ward off evil, tragedy always seemed to tightly coil around your neck like a noose. he wanted to be the one to cut it off, in both the last life and this.

once again, he always seemed to be too late.

“they’ve broken through the formation!” indarias yells, slamming a fiery fist through her enemies. the pyro-blessed yaksha, usually so playful and coy, looks at her comrades with panic. “there’s no one left at the camp to defend them anymore. they’re— they’re all—!” she swallows down the bitter reality, pervases and her other comrades’ gored bodies flashing through her mind. “the civilians can’t defend themselves from all those monsters!”

“shit.” menogias slices through a foe and turns to their youngest, standing atop a pile of bloodied corpses. karmic debt wraps him and the other yakshas like a dense fog, and it gets harder to breathe with every passing second. still, he calls out to him.

“alatus—!”

the young yaksha only spares him a golden glance, before slipping the bloodied mask on. “you don’t have to tell me twice.” and he disappears into the air.

you are not there when he reappears at the camp. no one is. everything is on fire, and he can barely see what’s in front of him thanks to all the smoke and ashes polluting the air. he hisses at the burning in his lungs, but he perseveres forward as he strains his ears for any signs of life. the faint clashing of weapons and maniacal laughter is far away, but they grow stronger as he continues.

he steps on something… fleshy. growing dread rises within him as he slowly looks down.

that… is a severed hand.

biting his tongue, he rushes forward through the sea of flames. more and more decapitated limbs and bodies litter the area. arms, legs, torsos, feet… the handiwork of psychopaths, no doubt. because an ordinary soldier would not do this. not to civilians. not to people who could not defend themselves. he sees no face to mourn for. he sees no head to remember.

roars of laughter peal through the air as he braves a wall of fire. as the sky is dyed red with both fire and dawn, alatus’ face pales when he sees the enemies marching around as they shout triumphantly into the chaos.

your head, beautiful as he had always remembered, parades past him on a wooden stake.

when karmic debt takes over, he doesn’t remember anything the next morning when he sobs and cradles your sleeping face, surrounded by the bodies of foes and allies alike.

in your next life, you are both strangers. he looks high and low for you in liyue, but he does not find you.

celestia orders the seven archons to launch an attack on khaenri’ah, and alatus and whoever is left of the adepti is ordered by rex lapis to stand by in liyue and eliminate any escaped khaenri’ahns. although he has nothing against them, he is more than happy to follow his lord’s commands, because he has nothing else left to do but do his duty.

surely enough, the khaenri’ahns have found some escape route that leads up to liyue. unfortunately for them, alatus and the others are there to massacre them without hesitation.

in one of the escapees, his eyes widen behind his mask as he meets your scared eyes. in this life, they have diamonds in them, and they stare back at him with fear and unfamiliarity rather than mischief and friendliness. he thinks you still look beautiful.

even as he drives a spear through your chest.

when the massacre is finished, he tries to find your body. but there are too many of you, bodies upon bodies and the stench of death heavy in the air. he cannot find you, his pearl, in this bloody sea of corpses.

years have passed, and he has not seen you since.

well, that would be a bit false. he does see you, but not… you. he does not walk with you in flower fields to admire your face bathed in sunlight nor does he watch you rummage through ruins for scraps of metal and machines. he does not idly chat with you behind bars to pass the time away nor does he help soft bread to your chapped lips as he comforts you with promises of your freedom and your yéyé.

he sees an image of you, the hallucination that his karmic debt has conjured for him in his nightmares. you smile at him ever so sweetly, joining him in his bed at wangshu inn. you’re always so pure and pretty in your nightdress when you sidle up to him to share in his warmth. but when you lean over to press a kiss to his cheek, alatus’ eyes shoot wide open as he feels your hand wrap around his neck and squeeze. he should fight, he could fight, but how could he? your face is twisted in hatred and disappointment, whispering to him about his betrayal and failure to save you. ‘you killed me, you left me, you fed me to the dogs.’

how could he fight back, when all you have said is the truth?

and so alatus, now named xiao, wakes up for another day drenched in his sweat and tears.

he is patrolling guili plains when he spots a familiar head of gold and the tinier head of white walking idly through the grasses. it’s not unusual for aether and paimon to be here, but they’ve thoroughly explored and exhausted this area of any treasures, and last he heard they were in fontaine. he hides away in a tree, observing their usual back and forth as they seem to wait for someone.

“like i’m saying, they’re an hour late!” paimon fumes, stomping the air as she throws a tantrum. “what if someone happened to them? oooh, paimon knew we should’ve picked them up from mondstadt! they’re always so clumsy!”

“oh, don’t get your crown in a twist, paimon,” aether says, nonchalant as ever. he glances towards xiao’s way and hums to himself, as if partaking in a fun little secret (he’s always been so perceptive, xiao muses), and takes a bite out of his sunsettia. “geniuses like [your name] are always like that. losing track of time, getting caught up in some curious thing they encountered on their way… they’ll be here soon, promise.” he hands out his half-eaten sunsettia to paimon. “sunsettia?”

“ew, gross! don’t hand paimon your leftovers!”

xiao perks at the familiar name, opening one eye as he lazily ruminates the familiar syllables in his head. [your name], [your name], [your name]... like he could ever forget that. he whispers it in his sleep, prays to your hallucination like a god, screams it every morning… [your name], [your name], [your name]... he watches aether finish his sunsettia and sighs to himself. he shouldn’t be silly. numerous people with your name have appeared in liyue ever since he’s last seen you, and not one of them was you. he shouldn’t get his hopes up.

“— iiii’mmm! so, so sorry!” a sobbed yelp breaks the peace of the plains from the distance. a hefty backpack overshadows the figure carrying it, running as fast as they can with the weight on them. they skid to a stop in front of the traveler and paimon, who greets the newcomer with an amused smile and a huffy face. the backpack ungracefully lands on the grass with a loud clang, and its owner falls alongside it as they try to catch their breath. “i’m so— huff— sorry! i was— hah— on my way here when i— huff— came across a travelling merchant. they had all these goods from fontaine and i— hah— couldn’t resist!”

paimon once again stomps the air. “well, you should try to be more mindful from now on! it’s rude!”

“i’m so~ory,” the eccentric figure whines pitifully. they rummage through their bag and pull out a pretty tin box, the kind used to store cookies. “forgive me, paimon?” in the usual paimon fashion, her eyes twinkle upon seeing the pretty sugar cookies stored inside, and upon the first bite all is finally forgiven.

“hm, is it just me or is someone watching us…?” they wonder, looking around the guili plains for any signs of life. “i feel this, uh, weird pressure. or am i just delusional…?”

when they turn, xiao catches their eyes through the canopy of leaves on the tree he’s occupying. his breath hitches, his eyes widen, and the world seems to halt to a stop.

you unknowingly lock eyes with the adeptus, cocking your head as you try to find the stranger peeking on your little group.

you blink when the pressure is finally gone, and you look back at the highly perceptive traveler in confusion. he only regards you with a small smile and shrugs.

“you’re awfully interested in the engineer, don’t you think?” aether playfully muses as he walks in on one of xiao’s rare times of relaxation. he lounges on wangshu inn’s balcony as he overlooks the scenery beneath him, almond tofu in hand. “why don’t you greet them for yourself then?”

xiao doesn’t spare him a glance as he brings a spoon of the silken food to his mouth. “unnecessary.”

aether rolls his eyes, taking the spot next to xiao as he studies the adeptus with a smile. “don’t be like that, you introvert. you’re always following us around while they go study liyue’s machines. i’m sure zhongli would be pleased to know that you have friends outside of us and the other adepti.” xiao scowls when aether uses his lord as a guilt trip, but doesn’t comment any further. “[your name]’s a wonderful person, if not a bit ditzy at times. i think they and cloud retainer would get aloong quite well if they ever met each other.”

he thinks back to your second life, where you chattered the night away with the crane adeptus about machinery and the like. bathed in the glow of the campfire, alatus would only dare observe from a distance as you talked passionately with stars in your eyes. aether observes as xiao’s eyes soften. “they did.”

the traveller huffs a laugh, slumping his cheek against the wooden railing as he looks out to the scenery too. “reincarnation, huh? there were things like that in other worlds as well.”

he’d never admit it, but he had always been pleased by the fact that aether had the shared experience of living for eras, if not longer. the other adepti were never close to humans, but aether and his sister had always walked alongside mortals in order to observe their stories. xiao lets the wind graze his cheek. “... did you ever have someone you wanted as well?”

“i made many friends but…” aether quirks a small smile, tapping his fingers on the wood lightly. “my sister was really all i needed.” he notes the hidden pain in his voice. “we’ve traversed many worlds together, and we will always have eternity together. but you don’t have someone like that.”

golden eyes meet golden, and xiao shudders at the sly look that aether gives him.

“well, unless you do something to change that.”

‘damn you, aether.’ the traveller’s always been sort of a bastard hiding behind gentle manners and a pretty smile, but he never thought that he’d stoop so low as to awaken the dark feelings that he’s kept repressed for so long. ‘sly dog.’ he makes a mental note to not react when aether calls for him next as some sort of petty revenge.

today, you are alone. your backpack is lighter, thankfully, otherwise you would not be able to travel through the huaguang stone forest’s cliffs and falls. he’s joined you on this journey since you started a few days back, but he continues to grow with paranoia every time he sees you walk too close to the edge. he’s also saved you a few times, summoning wind to stabilize a shaky glide or carrying you further away from the edge when you started rolling in your sleep.

his heart twists when he settles you back in your sleeping bag. he takes in your sleeping face, murmuring nonsense in your sleep, and the sides of his lips tug into an unconscious smile. you’ve always had that habit in the lives that he’s known you in, and he pushes aside the strands of hair to take a clearer look at your face. when the babbling subsides, your dopey grin relaxes itself, and the heartaches begin once again. so many times he’s watched over you like this, but the last time he had was… was when you were…

your face, peaceful and oblivious, overlaps to a bloody, dismembered one. xiao inhales sharply and shakes the image out of his head.

he starts with your cheek, caressing it softly with his calloused fingers as he revels in your warmth. they trace every feature— your fluttering eyelids, the in-betweens of your eyes, your twitching nose— until his thumb presses on your lip. this was not a luxury he could afford back then, but now, now.

‘i can protect you in this world.’ he thinks. his lips brush against yours, but he does not lean in further.

‘all my past transgressions, i will make it up to you.’

you smile in your sleep peacefully, just as you did... so many years ago.

you appear in xiao’s dream once more.

it starts off the same as always. you are draped in fine liyue silk, batting those innocent eyes at him as you call him to your shared bed. he knows what will happen next, having relieved this for centuries on end. you will crawl upon him, you will wrap those hands around his neck, and you will admonish him. xiao stares at the alluring image of you and does not budge from the foot of the bed.

“[your name], come to me.” your image cocks its head in confusion, but you follow anyway. now that he’s met the real you, he can clearly see the difference. your hair isn’t that shade, your eyes are much too wide and— ah, his image of you has slowly been creeping away from his mind after years of separation. the thought of it twists his heart.

he watches you crawl over to him, tempting and innocent like a newly wed bride. you sit on your knees dutifully, awaiting his next command. he reaches out, strokes your hair— it’s not as soft as this in real life— and smiles darkly.

“i love you, [your name].”

you smile. “i know.”

“i always have. even after all these years.”

“i know.”

your eyes held so much light and passion than this blank-minded image of you. he inhales. “i’ll miss you.”

you furrow your brows, frowning in confusion at the sudden confession. “alatus, what are you talking about—?!”

xiao’s face is unmoving as he watches you choke on your blood, staring up at him wide-eyed as your hands shakily reach up to the spear embedded through your chest. “a– la– tus…?” he does not respond to your weak call, yellow eyes dull as you bloody his spear and heave with every gasp. “wh– how could…?”

“i’ve met you, [your name],” he whispers. he thumbs away the blood trickling from your lips. he breathes in slowly, knocking his head against yours. your image stares at him in betrayal and fear. “in this life, i’ve finally met you.” he feels your image dissipating and he brings you in closer. “finally. after all these years.”

“a… la… tus…”

“this time. this life. i promise you.” he entangles your bloody hand in his and presses a kiss to it. “we will finally be together.”

“no matter what.”

#yandere genshin impact #genshin impact #yandere x reader #genshin impact x reader #yandere genshin impact x reader #yandere xiao #genshin impact xiao #yester.writes

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swagpeytato · 10 hours

Text

Yandere!Neglectful Batfam x Batmom!Reader PART 3

With the Batfamily

Everyone had gathered in the Bat cave, surrounding Tim as he looked over the divorce papers. He was struggling. Tim didn’t believe this was real. In fact he thought Y/n was full of shit, and just pulled this little stunt for attention, but he just wanted to be sure. Because if she left the media would get suspicious, and she would disrupt the natural order of the family.

He didn’t believe it was real…….but it was very very convincing. Almost as if it was real. But it couldn’t be real…right?

Bruce was angry, and worried. He was so enraged that his wife would ever do this to his children-to him. Putting all this unnecessary stress on them, just because she wanted attention. And he didn’t even know how long she’d been gone…..come to think about it, he didn’t know the last time he even spoke to her. That’s what he needed to do!

How could he be so stupid? He just needed to call her phone, and that would be that. Pulling his phone out of his pocket, he scrolled through looking for her contact, only to see the last time it was dialed was 3 years ago. That was a little after Jason came back. How has it been that long? Brushing this aside, he called her, expecting it to be answered immediately, but was surprised when the caller ID said disconnected. This was getting worrisome. The others looked toward him with furrowed eyebrows. When had she disconnected her phone? And what was her new number? Why hadn’t she told him?

As he mulled over these questions, an unknown number called him. Thinking it was his wife, he answered it right away, with his hopes of finding out what was going on skyrocketing. What he didn’t expect was to hear a deep, familiar chuckle. The Joker. It was at this moment that Bruce’s world came crashing down.

With Y/n and the Joker

Y/n woke up with a grunt, the cold steel room being an anchor, bringing her back to reality. She didn't know where she was, and she hoped and prayed that what she did remember was a very unsettling nightmare. She knew, however, that this was false hope as she looked around the room, and saw the Joker leaning against the wall, his goons straying not too far from him.

“I didn’t think it’d take ya that long to wake up. Although I should expect the Bat never trained ya, huh?” he chuckled darkly, his wide grin sending shivers down y/n’s spine. She knew she was in danger, but she couldn’t help herself from trying to save her case.

“He won’t come!” she blurted out in desperation. He perked up at that. Seeing that she piqued his interest, she continued. “He doesn’t care about me. He hates me even, they all did, that’s why I was in Jump City……” she hesitated before continuing, “I needed to get away, and I doubt they even knew I was gone. Even if you do tell him you have me, he probably won’t come.”

The Joker was pleasantly surprised. He had already told Bruce, and he seemed to care about Y/n more than anything. He reacted even worse than he did with Jason. So either she was lying, which he doubted she was based on the look in her eyes, or, Bruce realized his mistakes, and was going to stop at nothing to correct it.

The Joker knew Bruce, better than the back of his hand even, and how Bruce reacted under stressful situations. This however was not just a stressful situation, this was the “love of his life”, and this worried him. Batman had never sounded so angry. While he was lost in thought, Y/n spoke again, voice filled with sadness.

“You already told him, didn’t you?” all she felt was sorrow. She had been kidnapped, and even then, that wasn’t enough to garner attention from her family. She had already lost her parents not too long after she married Bruce, and now she was sure she had no one. “He’s not coming. You might as well just kill me, and get it over with…..” Tears leaked down her face as her voice trailed off.

“I don’t think I will. He seemed to care a lot when I told him I had ya. He was angry.” His smile had widened a significant amount, thinking of all the possibilities to beat Batman. This was going to be fun.

Hope you all enjoy! 😁 😁

@redkarmakai @moonieper @thatpersonnamedrook @madine11-blog @bat1212 @feral-childs-word @resident-cryptid @ch1cky-093 @sweetconnoiseurgardener @sillysealsies @dhanyasri @bloodyboi

#yandere x reader #neglected reader #dc x reader #batfam

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violettwrites · 16 hours

Text

trailer park trash 🏹 young!daryl dixon

a/n: had this sitting in my drafts for a while 🫠 but i finally got around to finishing it ! i’m lowkey obsessed w the idea of young!daryl atm as well he’s just so fine 😭 but i hope y’all enjoy this ! please give me a like, reblog, and/or comment if you did 🫶🏻

this is my masterlist !

and my ask box is currently open for requests !

( also shout out to @madelyncilne for being my beta reader i love u gf 🫶🏻😙 )

summary: 1988. reader has been best friends with daryl since they were little. as they celebrate his 19th birthday, drunken conversations happen where feelings that had been pushed down are told. ( pre apoc )

pairing: young!daryl dixon x reader

warnings: mentions of alcohol, smoking, mentions of weed— just a grunge-y trailer park party scene, making out 🫶🏻

word count: 1,856

— — —

it was july, 1988, a sweltering summer evening in the small, beat up trailer park you and daryl had called home for as long as you could remember. the worn out trailers sat in uneven rows, nestled between overgrown patches of grass and dusty gravel.

your fathers were friends— and though they were both horrible people, you were definitely blessed to have found daryl dixon amidst the chaos of your personal life. he had turned into your best friend— your confidant. he was the one you told everything to. no detail was ever too small. and even though daryl wasn’t much of a talker himself, he always listened.

it was daryl’s 19th birthday. merle, daryl’s older brother, had thrown together a party without much care. however, you both knew it was just an excuse for him to get drunk. not that he needed one anyway. he had mostly invited friends of his own. the kind you weren’t really a fan of; loud, aggressive, always looking for a fight— and way too drunk to care about the aftermath. you didn’t mind though, because you were there for daryl.

the air was thick with the smell of cheap beer and smoke, whether it was from weed or nicotine. merle’s sound system drowns out the hum of cicadas with its scream of pantera lyrics. but it was familiar to you, because this was how majority of your weekends were. you and daryl laying in his bed, ignoring merle and his friends as you smoked cigarettes. sometimes one, others five.

“hey! c’mon, you’re fallin’ behind!” merle shouted, staggering over to you with a half empty bottle of whiskey in his hand. he was already wasted, his wild laughter echoing through the park. you rolled your eyes at him but took a sip of the beer you had in your hand. sure, you were definitely tipsy, and even though you had no desire to keep up with merle and his crowd, it was just easier to go with it.

daryl, leaning against the side of the trailer, had been watching you most of the night. between getting dragged into games of beer pong and the several shots that he had done, he had kept his eyes on you. ready to intervene incase any of merle’s drunken friends put their hands on you.

despite the alcohol in his system, you had noticed he had been quieter than usual. no echoing cheers as he won a tournament, or no whooping after he downed three shots in a row. his shoulders were tense, eyes dark in the moonlight. you really couldn’t tell what was going on through his head tonight, but you knew he wasn’t himself.

“hey, you good?” you asked when you had made your way over to him, the party roaring on behind you. someone had lit a fire out in the field behind the dixon’s trailer, and merle and his friends were starting to get really rowdy, howling at the flames like a pack of wolves.

daryl looked at you, eyes flickering in the dim light. he shrugged, taking a long swig from the bottle in his hand. “yeah, ‘m fine. just… it’s loud, y’know?”

you nodded, leaning against the trailer next to him. you could feel the heat of his arm just barely brushing against yours. it had always been like that with daryl. the way you were always near each other, like magnets that couldn’t quite pull apart.

merle’s laugh rang out again, and you could see him egging on some of the guys, probably looking for trouble. “looks like merle’s having a good time.” you rolled your eyes, sipping at your beer again.

“yeah, well, tha’s merle,” daryl muttered, his voice low and gravelly, like he had something caught in his throat. “he don’ know when to stop.”

the two of you stood in silence for a moment, listening to the noise of the party behind you. motörhead was now playing through the speakers, and the hollers of the group down by the fire in the field was still going.

“hey, it’s your birthday. we should do something. just you and me.” you weren’t sure if it was the alcohol making you bolder, but you decided to say what had been sitting on your chest all night.

daryl looked at you, his eyes narrowing slightly as if he was trying to read between the lines of what you said. “like what?”

“i don’t know,” you shrugged your shoulders, trying to play it off causally, “get outta here, away from this mess. go down by the creek like we used to.”

he stared at you for a moment, and you swore you saw something shift in his expression. he was already drunk, you knew that, but there was something else there too. maybe it was the same thing you had been pushing down since you were thirteen and realised what crushes were.

“yeah,” he said quietly, nodding, “let’s go.”

the two of you slipped away from the party, walking through the field and down towards the creek. although you could still hear the faint bass of the music, it was quieter down there. you could hear the water trickling over the rocks, and the occasional rustle of the wind in the trees. you sat down on the bank, the cool grass under your legs, and looked out at the stars scattered across the sky.

daryl sat down next to you, arms resting on his knees. he was closer to you than he normally was, his bicep brushing against yours. you could smell the whiskey on his breath, but you didn’t mind. you were used to the smell of cheap booze and cigarettes— it was part of life around here.

after a few minutes of comfortable silence, daryl spoke. his voice was rougher than usual, thick with whatever emotions he had been drowning all night. “y’ever think ‘bout gettin’ outta here?”

the question caught you off guard, but you answered honestly. “yeah,” you nodded, “all the time.”

he looked at you, his eyes glassy but intense. “where would ya go?”

“i don’t know,” you said with a soft laugh, “somewhere far away. maybe the mountains, or a big city. somewhere where things aren’t so messed up.”

daryl nodded his head, looking down at the bottle in his hand before taking another swig. “yeah, i think ‘bout it too.”

the silence stretched again, and you felt the weight of all the things left unsaid between the two of you. daryl shifted closer, his knee pressing against yours. his voice was barely above a whisper when he spoke again.

“i ain’t ever told you this, but… you’re the only person i give a damn about in this place.”

your breath hitched, and you felt your heart pounding in your chest. you’d always felt something more for daryl, but you had never brought it up to him. you didn’t want to ruin the friendship you had, and if you could only have him as a friend, then so be it. because it was better than being alone.

“me too,” you admitted, your voice barely steady. “i care about you too.”

he turned to look at you, his face inches from yours now, and you could feel the heat radiating off him. “i ain’t no good, though. you know that.”

you shook your head, your hand reaching for his, giving him a gentle squeeze. “don’t say that. you’re better than anyone else here.”

his eyes stared at you for a long moment, his eyes flicking down to your lips and back up again. the air was thick with tension, and then, without thinking, he leaned in. his lips crashed into yours, rough and urgent, tasting like whiskey and everything you’d ever wanted.

the kiss was messy, desperate, both of you giving into all of the feelings you’d buried for years. your hands cupped his cheeks, moving to crawl onto his lap, finding a new angle as you continued to make out with the boy underneath you.

when his hands moved to your waist, pulling your body closer, you swore it felt like fire when he touched you. you let his hands roam, both your tongues swirling with each other. it felt like bliss, like you were both lost in a world where only the two of you existed, the years of unspoken tension finally erupting in this one heated moment.

every breath was shared, every touch electric. you both had been waiting for this for far too long. his grip on your waist tightened, his fingers digging in just enough to send shivers down your spine.

you felt the warmth of his skin beneath your fingertips, your nails lightly grazing the back of his neck as you deepened the kiss. the taste of whiskey still lingered on his lips, but now there was something more— something raw and unfiltered. the taste of desire.

his hands began to explore more boldly, pulling you even closer until there was no space left. your heart raced, and you weren’t sure if you were feeling your own heart thump against your chest, or his.

“daryl!” you heard a drunken voice holler from the trees, causing the two of you to break apart, breathless and cheeks red. you looked down at him for a moment, a small laugh coming from your lips as you heard the drunken voice holler once again for daryl.

merle.

“you have no idea how long i’ve wanted to do that,” he mutters softly, hands gently rubbing at where he had dug his fingertips into you. he held your gaze, eyes dark.

“me too,” you breathed out, your voice barely above a whisper. you could feel the weight of everything you both had left unsaid, all the words that had been replaced by the kiss, by the touch of his hands on your skin.

“daaaaryl!” you heard merle holler once again, and you chuckled softly, rolling your eyes as you moved to get up, holding out your hand to the boy beneath you, pulling him up off the creek bed.

“c’mon,” you huffed, shaking your head as you pulled him back towards the trailer. “merle’s either gonna have a fit, or he’s gonna end up drowning in the creek if we don’t get to him soon.”

daryl just chuckled, enjoying the feeling of your hand in his as you both walked towards the trailer, finding a stumbling merle with a now almost empty bottle of whiskey in his hand not too far from where the two of you had been hiding.

“there he is! there’s my baby brother!” merle shouted, throwing his arms open wide, bottle of whiskey smashing into the trees.

he watched as you let go of his hand to turn merle around, your palms on his older brother’s shoulders as you walked him back towards the trailer, a small smile on his lips.

daryl may have been trailer park trash, but at least he had someone that cared about him.

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yeo-hee · 3 days

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— i think i like when it rains • l.hs

— rainy mornings with boyfriend!heeseung.

warnings: none.

wc: 0.7k.

YOU WOKE UP TO A QUIET PATTER AGAINST your window, your bedroom that was usually filled with hues of golden from the sun peaking through the seams of the curtains in the early morning now left dim, a gloomy yet cozy atmosphere in place.

And you would have felt at peace, had you not felt the empty space in bed beside you. Robbed of the warmth you felt in the arms of your lover all night as you slept peacefully.

You sighed as you sat up, the comforter pooling around your waist whilst you brushed your hair out of your face and rubbed your tired eyes.

Eventually, dragging yourself out of bed, met with a slight chill lingering in the air of your shared apartment. To fix this, you reached for a familiar hoodie slung over the back of a chair settled into the nook of your desk. His, to be exact.

Slipping the soft fabric over your frame, you trudged through your apartment, leaving the bedroom behind. It appeared as though your timing was perfect, as the front door clicked open and shut, rustling filling your ears as you rounded the corner of the hallway.

Lee Heeseung stood at the entryway, clutching onto a paper bag in one hand and a drink carrier in the other, doing his best to slip off his shoes handlessly.

With a quiet, breathy laugh, your eyes softened as you drew closer, finally capturing his attention as he peered up upon hearing your voice — still filled with the remnants of sleep.

“Do you need help?” You asked in a quiet murmur, watching as a gentle smile crept up onto his lips and he shook his head no, managing on his own as he walked over to set the goods down on the kitchen counter.

“Good morning, love,” Heeseung greeted quietly once he finally had free hands, arms reaching out to draw you closer until you were settled comfortably against his chest.

“Morning.” You replied, a sigh of content falling from your lips as you were faced with the warmth of his embrace yet again.

He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss on the top of your head before pulling away just enough to get a good look at you.

“I was trying to come home before you woke up. You ruined my top secret plan.” He huffed jokingly, feigning annoyance with a subtle scrunch of his nose as you chuckled and hummed, tilting your head.

“Yeah?” You let out, raising a brow. “What top secret plan are we talking about?”

Heeseung smiled cheekily, pulling out of the hug he had initiated completely and ruffling your hair. His hand wrapped around yours, giving it a soft squeeze as he pulled you to the kitchen counter.

“To surprise you with breakfast in bed. Thought it’d be nice, and you deserve it.” He said, gesturing towards the bag filled with your favorite pastries and the small cups filled with coffee, purchased from a local coffee shop just down the block.

You nodded your head silently, gaze averting back over to him. Evidence of his brief outing resided in small droplets of rain that fell over his frame, soaked into the fabric of his navy blue sweatshirt.

“Thank you.” You spoke gently, wrapping your arms around him as you leaned up to press a soft kiss to his cheek. “You’re sweet.” You added on, as he returned your embrace, swaying you from side to side.

“Of course, ____.” He mumbled, your name falling from his lips ever so lightly, uttered out in the softest voice he could muster. “You only deserve the best, after all.”

“I’ll tell you what,” He began, head tilted off to the side as his eyes were filled with adoration and warmth. “It’s still quite early, isn’t it? So why don’t we eat breakfast, and go back to sleep for a little while longer?” He proposed.

“That sounds nice.” You agreed, welcoming the suggestion with ease as he hummed, cupping your cheeks in his hand and leaning down to peck your lips.

“Perfect.” Heeseung mumbled, flashing yet another of his loving smiles your way, making your heart flutter like you had fallen all over again.

That same morning, you found yourself wrapped up in bed all over again, your legs subtly tangled with another as he had you pulled close, a guiding hand laying your head against his chest.

You nestled closer, listening to the rhythmic patter of the rain that pushed up against the windows.

It was that moment forward that you declared rainy mornings with Lee Heeseung were the best.

__________________________________________

hellooo !! thank you so much for reading.

truthfully, i didn't plan on publishing anything on this platform to begin with but i have suddenly got a spark of motivation, so i've been planning out a few things here and there to eventually publish.

unfortunately, this oneshot is not very ideal for me as i feel as though it's a bit sloppy and repetitive, but i wanted to quickly piece something together to put out just to test the waters whilst i plan out detailed and overall better stuff.

of course, i'll be taking requests as well. so if you would like to read anything specific for any (enhypen) member, feel free to drop it in the asks ^^

obviously, given that i am still unfamiliar with the layout of this app, the aesthetics for this oneshot and my profile as a whole are not very appealing at all, but i plan to revamp soon ! 😭🙏

anyway, once again, thank you for reading. much love !! xox 🤍

#heeseung #heeseung fluff #enhypen #heeseung x reader #heeseung enhypen #heeseung oneshots #enhypen x reader #enhypen oneshots #enhypen imagines #lee heeseung #lee heeseung one shot #Spotify

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thirtysomethingloser92 · 24 hours

Text

1. If It Makes You Happy, It Can't Be That Bad.

Mini-series based off Cherry Lips. Summary: One night with world famous Remy Lebeau turns into something neither one of you expected. Warnings: Smut, Daddy Kinks, Bondage, Spanking, Choking, Threesomes (Amongst so much more), angst, fluff, romance. Chapter Warning: Light Phone Sex. Taglist: bontensbabygirl

“Funny thing,” you began with a playful smile, lounging comfortably on your bed as your phone screen lit up with the familiar face of Remy LeBeau. His signature smirk was already in place, as if he could anticipate exactly where you were going with this. His dark eyes glinted with mischief as he looked up from the notebook he'd been scribbling in, his fingers still idly strumming the strings of his guitar.

“Oh yeah? What’s that?” he drawled, his Cajun accent thick and smooth, like honeyed whiskey.

You bit your lip, trying to suppress a grin. “So, I was doing my weekly grocery run, you know, minding my own business,” you teased, dragging the moment out just to toy with him a little. Remy leaned in closer to the camera, clearly intrigued, though the playful glint in his eyes said he probably already had an idea of what was coming.

“Mhm, sounds serious,” he said, placing the guitar aside on the hotel bed behind him. The faint sound of fans screaming outside his window made you chuckle. He might’ve been sitting across the world in a luxurious hotel suite, but right now, it felt like he was right in the room with you.

“Oh, it is,” you continued, your grin widening as you held up a finger, signaling for him to wait. “Hold on.”

You kicked off the blankets that had been wrapped around you, crawling across your bed to reach the nightstand. The movement made the oversized shirt you were wearing ride up slightly, revealing the sliver of underwear underneath. You caught the flicker of Remy’s gaze over the screen, his eyes briefly tracking your movements before a knowing smile tugged at his lips.

When you sat back down, you held up a glossy gossip magazine, flipping it around to show him the cover. “Look what I found,” you announced triumphantly. There, plastered across the front page in bold letters, was the headline: Sexiest Man Alive: Remy LeBeau, accompanied by a smoldering picture of him leaning on his famous guitar, his tousled hair and sharp jawline doing most of the work.

“Oh, fuck…” Remy groaned, leaning back in his chair and dragging his hands over his face in a dramatic display of exasperation. He shook his head before peeking at you from between his fingers, that ever-present smile never really leaving his face. “How did I know you were gonna bring that one up?”

You shrugged, feigning innocence. “Because you know I enjoy stirring you up,” you replied, flipping through the pages of the magazine. “I mean, come on, ‘Sexiest Man Alive’? That’s a bold title.” You paused, then added with a playful glint in your eye, “Personally, I thought it would’ve been Chris Evans this year.”

Remy let out a low chuckle, his smirk growing wider. “Always keepin’ me humble, huh?”

You looked up from the magazine and arched an eyebrow. “Well, someone’s got to! I can practically hear the screams of your fans outside your hotel room,” you teased, motioning to the background noise that was impossible to ignore. “Bet they’re giving you an even bigger head than usual.”

Remy’s grin turned mischievous, and without missing a beat, he leaned closer to the camera and said, “Funny, don’t recall you ever complainin’ ‘bout my head before.”

Your face instantly flushed at the double entendre, eyes widening in surprise. You looked away, shaking your head as you tried to regain your composure.

He laughed, the sound deep and rich, clearly enjoying how easily he could fluster you.

You looked back at him through the screen, shooting him a mock glare, though the smile tugging at your lips betrayed your amusement. “Yeah, okay, fine. You got me,” you muttered, flipping the magazine closed and tossing it aside with a huff. “But I’m still not letting you get away with that.”

Remy leaned back in his chair, folding his arms behind his head in a relaxed, almost cocky posture. “Oh, cher, I’m countin’ on it.”

You rolled your eyes, but the warmth spreading through your chest betrayed the effect his teasing had on you. Even with half the world between you, Remy had a way of making the distance feel small, of making you feel like you were the only person he cared about in that moment—despite the dozens of fans clamoring for his attention outside his hotel room.

“Well,” you sighed dramatically, “I guess it’s my job to keep you grounded, what with all the ‘Sexiest Man Alive’ nonsense going to your head.”

He winked at you, his voice lower now, almost a purr. “Y’ do a damn fine job of it, cher.”

Your heart fluttered at the compliment, but you quickly masked it with a smirk. “Good. Someone has to keep you in check, after all.”

Remy’s eyes softened for a moment, the teasing tone fading just slightly as he gazed at you through the screen. “Ain’t no one else I’d rather have doin’ it.”

You felt your cheeks warm again, the sincerity in his voice catching you off guard. For a second, you forgot about the magazine, the fans, and the fact that you were on opposite sides of the world. It was just you and Remy, sharing a quiet moment in the midst of the chaos that surrounded his life.

“Well,” you said softly, leaning a little closer to the camera, “I guess I’ll take that as a compliment.”

Remy’s smile turned gentle, his eyes never leaving yours. “You should.” He reached back behind him and grabbed the guitar again. Remy’s fingers danced effortlessly across the strings of his guitar, the soft strumming filling the quiet space between you. You watched him through the screen, your eyes following the familiar way his hands moved, coaxing out a melody that seemed to wrap around you like a warm embrace. Every now and again he’d grimace, pausing and scratching something out in front of him before starting again. The sound was soothing, intimate, and in moments like this, it was easy to forget that this wasn’t just any man. This was Remy LeBeau—a world-renowned musician, adored by millions, and somehow, inexplicably, a part of your life.

You pulled your blanket tighter around you, cocooning yourself in its warmth as you curled in further on your bed. The soft glow of your phone illuminated your face, but the rest of the room was dim, casting everything in soft shadows. You’d been doing this for weeks now—late-night calls, quiet moments shared through screens, and sometimes, stolen words that felt like secrets between you and him. But it still felt surreal, like you were living in someone else’s life.

Had it really only been four months since he had walked into your world?

You thought back to the night it all began, the memory still fresh in your mind despite the whirlwind that followed. It was supposed to be an ordinary night—well, ordinary if you didn’t count the fact that your ex had just left you for the woman he’d been cheating on you with. You’d gone to the concert hoping to escape, to drown out the hurt with music and a few too many drinks. But then, in a moment of anger and impulse, you’d poured your drink over him right there in the middle of the crowd.

That should have been the end of it. A mortifying moment you’d regret later. But then you looked up, towards the stage, and there was—Remy LeBeau, larger than life, looking right at you through the chaos with that same stupid smirk on his face that he was wearing now.

He’d invited you backstage, and that’s where everything changed. What was meant to be a brief encounter turned into the most intense night of your life.

You could still feel the weight of his hands, the heat of his body pressed against yours in that dressing room. It had been raw and passionate, the kind of thing that left you breathless and reeling. You’d never experienced anything like it. The way he met you in the middle with every demand, he made sure that you knew ultimately, you were in charge no matter what happened. It took almost two full weeks for his handprint to leave your ass and the bruises from his fingers to leave your hips. And when it was over, when you were both spent and you were trying to get dressed, he’d looked at you with those piercing eyes and asked for your number.

You never expected him to actually text you. Not Remy LeBeau, the man who had his pick of anyone in the world. But when his message appeared on your phone the next morning—You get home safe?—you’d stared at it for what felt like hours, unsure of how to respond. How were you supposed to talk to someone like him? Someone whose face was on billboards and magazine covers, whose name trended on social media every other day?

Every reply you typed out felt wrong, too casual or too eager, like you were trying too hard. Eventually, after hours of overthinking, you’d sent a simple Yeah, thanks. It was embarrassing how much you agonized over those two words, but somehow, that small exchange turned into more.

It was Remy who had suggested the coffee date before he left for Europe. You still remembered the way he’d asked, almost too casually, as if he wasn’t one of the most famous men in the world making a simple offer to grab coffee. But then, that was Remy—effortlessly cool, as if fame was just something that hovered around him, not something he actively sought.

The café he’d chosen was tucked away in a narrow alley, hidden from the bustling city streets, a place only locals would know. It wasn’t the kind of spot that would attract paparazzi or the curious eyes of fans, and that made it perfect. The little bell above the door had chimed when you walked in, the smell of freshly brewed coffee mingling with the faint scent of cinnamon and vanilla from the pastries behind the counter. There weren’t many people inside, just a couple of elderly patrons and a barista working quietly behind the counter.

You spotted him immediately, sitting in a corner, his back to the wall. He looked different in daylight, softer somehow. His usual rockstar edge was muted, replaced by something more relaxed, more real. He wasn’t wearing his signature leather jacket, just a simple sweater that clung to his lean frame, and his hair was tousled in a way that looked less deliberate than usual.

He smiled when he saw you, that slow, lazy grin that had undone you so easily the night before. “Cher,” he greeted, his voice low and warm, like a secret meant just for you.

You smiled back, a little nervous but trying to play it cool. “Hey.”

His security detail was nearby, but they were discreet, standing by the entrance, blending in with the ambiance of the café. For all intents and purposes, it felt like you and Remy were the only two people in the world.

You slipped into the seat across from him, the small table between you making the space feel more intimate than it had any right to. A steaming cup of coffee was already waiting for you. You took a sip, and for a moment, you let the warmth of the coffee and the coziness of the café settle your nerves.

The conversation started easily, like it always did with Remy. He had a way of making you feel comfortable, as if there wasn’t an ocean of difference between your worlds. He asked about your day, your work, and for the first time in a while, you found yourself talking about normal things—things that had nothing to do with the whirlwind of his fame. You talked about your favorite books, the places you liked to go when you needed to clear your head, the little things that made up your life.

And then, as the conversation naturally drifted back to the night before, his voice grew softer, more intimate. “You know,” he said, his eyes on you, “last night….I don’t meet a lot of people who can match me like that.”

His words hung in the air between you, heavy with meaning. You felt your heart skip a beat, but you didn’t say anything, waiting for him to continue.

“I meant what I said,” he added, his gaze never wavering. “I want you to come with me.”

He let that statement linger for a moment before leaning forward slightly, his elbows resting on the table. “Six months,” he repeated, his voice low but firm, as if the offer was something solid, tangible. “Come with me to Europe. We’ll travel, see the world. You can leave all this behind for a while.”

Your mind raced. Even though he’d made the same offer last night, hearing it again in the light of day felt different. More real. Last night, in the heat of the moment, it had been easy to brush it off as something said in the throes of passion. But now, with the sun streaming through the café windows and the world feeling far more grounded, it felt like an impossible choice.

You looked at him, studying the way his eyes held yours, serious and unwavering. He was offering you something that most people would kill for—a chance to escape, to see the world with him, to live a life you’d only ever dreamed about. It was tempting, so tempting that for a brief, fleeting moment, you let yourself imagine it. Traveling across Europe, waking up in different cities, spending nights wrapped in each other’s arms with no responsibilities, no worries. Just the two of you.

But then reality came crashing back in.

You had a life here. A job, bills, responsibilities that couldn’t just be put on hold for six months. And the idea of being followed by paparazzi, of having your every move scrutinized, wasn’t exactly appealing either. The thought of being thrust into his world—the world of bright lights, flashing cameras, and constant attention—made your stomach twist with anxiety.

“I—” You hesitated, unsure of how to put all of that into words. “I don’t think I can.”

His expression didn’t falter, but you saw the flicker of disappointment in his eyes. He leaned back slightly, his fingers tapping absently on the table. “Why not?” he asked, his voice still soft, but with a hint of something else—maybe frustration, maybe hurt. “You scared?”

You shook your head, though a part of you wondered if he was right. “It’s not that, it’s just…” You sighed, trying to find the right words. “I have a life here. A job, bills to pay. I can’t just drop everything and follow you around the world.”

He nodded slowly, as if he understood, but his eyes still held that intensity. “I get it, cher. But I’m not askin’ you to disappear forever. It’s just six months. You could take a break, live a little, see the world with me.” His voice softened, almost pleading now. “You don’t have to worry ‘bout money. I’ll take care of everything.”

You swallowed hard, torn between the desire to take the leap and the overwhelming sense of responsibility that weighed you down. “It’s not that simple,” you whispered.

Remy leaned back in his seat, his fingers tracing the rim of his coffee cup, his eyes never leaving yours. The soft murmur of the café around you faded into the background, leaving just the two of you in this intimate bubble. He had a way of doing that—making the world shrink down to just him, making you feel like you were the only thing that mattered in the room.

He glanced out the window for a moment, watching as the late afternoon light filtered in through the glass, casting golden shadows across the table. Then, without looking back at you, he spoke, his voice low, carrying the weight of the conversation you’d both had the night before.

“You remember what we talked ‘bout last night?” he murmured, his tone softer now, more serious.

You nodded, your mind drifting back to the previous evening, when you’d both let your guards down a little more than usual. The memory of it was still fresh—the way you’d both spoken honestly, the way he’d peeled back the layers of charm and showmanship for a moment, revealing something raw, something real.

He had said it then, the words coming out in that smooth, deliberate way of his, but with an undercurrent of vulnerability you hadn’t expected.

“Ain’t easy findin’ someone who matches y’r crazy, cher,” he had said, his eyes fixed on yours, even as his tone remained casual. “Most people, they don’t wanna go there. They don’t wanna dive deep into the wild parts of themselves—or y’. They wanna keep it safe, keep it easy.”

You remembered the way you’d nodded, feeling the truth of his words settle in your chest like a weight. “Exactly,” you’d agreed, your voice a little quieter, a little more thoughtful than usual. “It’s like… they want the thrill, but not the risk. They want the passion without the storm that comes with it.”

For a moment, the two of you had sat there in silence, the air between you thick with unspoken understanding. And then Remy had let out that low, knowing chuckle, shaking his head as if the whole thing was some cosmic joke he was all too familiar with.

“Yeah, well,” he had said, his tone threaded with both amusement and something darker—something that hinted at past disappointments, at scars that hadn’t quite healed. “I ain’t met anyone yet who could handle my storm. Ain’t found no one who could match me, not all the way.”

He had paused then, his eyes lingering on yours, and for a moment, the lazy smirk that usually played on his lips returned. But this time, there had been something different behind it, something more serious. More real.

“That is… until tonight,” he had finished, his voice dropping to a low, intimate murmur that had made your heart skip a beat.

Now, sitting across from him in the quiet café, you could feel the echo of those words reverberating between you. Remy was watching you closely, his dark eyes searching yours, as if trying to read the thoughts you weren’t quite ready to say aloud.

He leaned forward slightly, his elbows resting on the table, his expression softening in a way that made the moment feel even more intimate. “Cher,” he began, his voice quieter now, almost tentative in a way that surprised you, “I know you got reasons to stay. I get it. But I ain’t talkin’ ‘bout forever. I’m just askin’ for a chance. Six months... No strings if y’ don’t want ‘em. Just you and me, seein’ where it goes.”

You met his gaze, your heart tightening in your chest. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to take that leap. God, you wanted it more than you could admit. But the reality of it—leaving everything behind, stepping into his world, a world that was so different from your own—was terrifying. And maybe, in the quietest part of your heart, you were afraid of what might happen if you couldn’t keep up with his storm.

“I…” You hesitated, your voice catching in your throat. You didn’t want to hurt him, but you couldn’t ignore the practicalities of your life. “Remy, I can’t just pack up and leave like that. I’ve got a job. Responsibilities. I can’t just… drop everything.”

His eyes softened, and you could see the flicker of disappointment there, though he hid it well behind that easy charm of his. “I know, cher,” he said quietly, his fingers tapping rhythmically on the edge of the table. “I ain’t gonna push y’. I just…” He trailed off, as if searching for the right words, before locking eyes with you again. “Look, if y’ can’t come with me, I get it. But would y’ mind if I called y’? Maybe we could keep in touch, yeah?”

You blinked, a little surprised by the sincerity in his request. For all his confidence, there was something almost vulnerable in the way he asked, like he wasn’t just offering you an escape from your life, but hoping to keep some kind of connection alive between you. As if he didn’t want you to slip away completely, even if you couldn’t be by his side.

The thought of hearing his voice, of staying connected, even from a distance, made your heart ache in a way you hadn’t expected. Despite the whirlwind of emotions you were feeling, despite all the reasons you knew it was crazy, you found yourself nodding.

“Yeah,” you said softly, meeting his gaze. “I’d like that.”

Remy’s lips curled into a slow smile, the kind that always made you feel like you were the only person in the world. “Good,” he murmured, his voice warm and rich with something you couldn’t quite name. “I’ll call y’ then, cher. And who knows? Maybe after a few weeks of hearin’ my voice, you might start to miss me enough to change y’r mind.”

You chuckled, shaking your head, but there was a warmth in your chest now, a flicker of something that felt dangerously close to hope. “We’ll see,” you replied, your voice teasing but gentle.

The tension that had been hanging in the air between you seemed to ease, and for the rest of the conversation, things felt lighter, easier. You talked about music, about his upcoming tour, about anything that didn’t carry the weight of decisions and life-altering choices. But that connection—the one that had been lingering between you since the night before—was still there, humming quietly beneath the surface.

When it was time to leave, Remy stood up, pulling his sunglasses on with that effortless grace that always made him seem larger than life. He gave you one last look, his smile soft, his voice low. “Take care of y’self, cher. I’ll call y’.”

You nodded, your heart doing strange, unsteady things in your chest. “You too.”

And then, with one last glance, he turned and walked out of the café, his security trailing behind him. You watched him go, the door swinging shut behind him, and for a long moment, you just sat there, staring at the empty seat across from you.

It wasn’t until you reached for your phone and saw his name still sitting in your messages that you realized you were already waiting for his call.

And so, here you were, four months later, wrapped in blankets and watching him strum his guitar through a video call. The soft, melodic chords floated through the speakers, filling your room with warmth, as if he were right there beside you. You couldn’t help but smile as you watched him, lost in the music. It was moments like these that felt so intimate, so personal, that you forgot for a second who he was to the rest of the world—Remy LeBeau, the rockstar. To you, right now, he was just Remy, the man who somehow made you feel like you were the only person that mattered.

But things hadn’t always been so simple.

The first few weeks after that night at the concert had been a blur of conflicting emotions. You’d tried telling yourself that this was nothing more than a fling, a brief distraction to help you move past the betrayal of your ex. You had convinced yourself that you could keep it casual, that it was just fun—a wild story you’d look back on one day and laugh about. But Remy? He had a way of making it impossible to keep your distance.

It started with the phone calls, almost every night. At first, they were lighthearted, teasing, filled with playful banter and flirtation. He’d call after a show, his voice still buzzing with adrenaline, and tell you about the crowd, the energy, the chaos of it all. You’d listen, intrigued, laughing when he’d slip into stories about the wild things he’d seen on tour. But then, as the night wore on and the conversation slowed, there came a shift. His voice would drop to that familiar low timbre that sent shivers down your spine, and suddenly it wasn’t just words you were exchanging anymore.

The first time it happened, you hadn’t expected it. It was late, and your conversation had drifted, like it often did, into the easy, comfortable rhythm you’d fallen into over the past few weeks. You were talking about nothing in particular, just the small details of your day, the way the moon looked outside your window—big and full, casting a pale glow across your room—or how his hotel room was too cold even though it was the middle of summer. He grumbled lightly about the AC, about how it never seemed to work right, and you had laughed, teasing him about his preference for luxury despite his grungy rockstar persona.

It was familiar, relaxed, the way you talked most nights. There was always an underlying tension, of course—a kind of charged energy that lingered between the words, between the silences—but you’d gotten used to it. It was part of the dynamic you shared, the playful flirtation that never seemed to cross a line.

But then, something shifted.

You didn’t notice it right away. Not at first. You were too lost in the comfort of his voice, in the way it wrapped around you, warm and easy, making you feel like you weren’t alone in your bed, but curled up next to him, sharing the same space. But then his tone changed, just slightly—a subtle drop in pitch, a softness that wasn’t there before.

“What are y’ wearin’ right now, cher?” he asked, his voice suddenly low, intimate, like a dark velvet caress that sent a shiver down your spine.

You blinked, surprised, letting out a breathy laugh, unsure of whether he was joking or not. “What?” you asked, your voice light, trying to play it off even though your heart had already started to race.

He didn’t laugh. Instead, you heard the faintest sound of his breath on the other end of the line, slow and measured. “You heard me,” he murmured, his words edged with a playful challenge. “Tell me what y’r wearin’. I’ve been thinkin’ ‘bout you all night, and I can’t get the image out of my head.”

Your heart was pounding now, heat rising to your cheeks. You hesitated, unsure of how to respond, your mind racing. You weren’t used to this kind of attention—at least, not like this. Not from him. There had always been this tension between you, this pull, but he’d never crossed that line after that one night you both shared.

And yet… the way he said it, the way his voice curled around the words, made it impossible to ignore the desire that was already stirring inside you. It was as if he knew exactly what he was doing to you, as if he could feel the way your breath hitched, the way your body tensed in anticipation. You could hear the smile in his tone, the teasing edge that both excited and unnerved you.

You hesitated for a moment longer, but then you found yourself answering, your voice quieter now, a little breathless. “Just… a t-shirt,” you murmured, feeling shy despite the fact that he couldn’t see you. “And, um… nothing else.”

There was a pause on the other end of the line, and you could almost hear the way his breath caught, the low sound of approval that hummed in his chest. “Mmm, that’s what I thought,” he drawled, his voice a slow, seductive rhythm. “I knew y’d be layin’ there, all soft and warm. Bet y’r lookin’ real pretty right now, cher.”

Your pulse quickened, heat blooming in your chest, spreading down to your core. The way he spoke to you—so direct, so sure of himself—was intoxicating. There was no hesitation in his words, no uncertainty. He knew exactly what he was doing, exactly how to pull you in, and you found yourself powerless to resist.

“Remy...” you whispered, unsure if you were trying to slow things down or encourage him to keep going.

He let out a low chuckle, the sound warm and rough, sending another shiver through you. “You like it when I say y’r name like that, don’t y’?” he murmured, his voice dropping even lower. “I can hear it in y’r voice, cher. You’re gettin’ all worked up, just from hearin’ me talk.”

You swallowed hard, your mouth suddenly dry, your body reacting to his words in ways you couldn’t control. He was right, of course. You could feel the way your body was responding, the way your skin was heating up, the way your thighs pressed together beneath the blankets. It was ridiculous, really, how much power he had over you, even from thousands of miles away. And yet… you didn’t want him to stop.

“Tell me what y’r doin’ right now,” he coaxed, his voice soft, soothing, as if it were the most natural thing in the world for him to be asking you this. “Are y’ touchin’ y’rself already? Or are y’ waitin’ for me to tell y’ what to do?”

Your breath caught again, and for a moment, you didn’t know how to respond. But then you realized he wasn’t asking for permission. He was drawing you in, coaxing you into a space where nothing else mattered but his voice and the way it made you feel. It was like he was right there with you, his words tracing over your skin, lighting you up from the inside out.

You closed your eyes, sinking deeper into the warmth of your bed, letting yourself get lost in the moment. “I’m waiting,” you whispered, your voice barely audible, but you knew he heard you. You could hear the way his breath hitched slightly, the satisfaction in his next words.

“Good girl,” he whispered, his voice a low, throaty purr that sent a wave of heat straight through you. “Now, I want you to take that hand of yours and slide it down... nice and slow. I want y’ to feel every inch of yourself, cher. Like it’s me touchin’ you.”

Your breath quickened, your body responding to the command before you even had time to think about it. You could feel the heat pooling low in your belly, your skin tingling with anticipation as you did as he asked, your hand moving slowly beneath the blankets, your fingers brushing against the soft skin of your thigh.

He continued to speak, his voice guiding you, coaxing you further, his words like a slow burn that ignited something deep within you. And before you knew it, you were completely wrapped up in him, in the sound of his breathing on the other end of the line, in the way he whispered your name like it was something sacred, something precious.

It was intoxicating, the way he made you feel so desired, so wanted, even from hundreds of miles away. It was as if the distance between you didn’t exist, as if he were right there beside you, his hands on your body, his lips at your ear, whispering every sinful thought that crossed his mind. And you wanted it. You wanted more.

The rest of the night passed in a blur of breathless whispers, of quiet moans and soft gasps, of his voice guiding you through every wave of pleasure. And when it was over, when you were both spent and quiet, he stayed with you on the line, his voice soft and soothing as he murmured sweet things into the phone, grounding you, bringing you back down from the high.

“Y’r somethin’ else, cher,” he had whispered, his voice warm and full of affection now, as if the heat of the moment had given way to a deeper intimacy. “I can’t wait to see y’ again. Gonna make sure I take my time with y’ next time we’re together.”

You smiled, your heart still racing, though there was a different kind of warmth in your chest now. “I can’t wait either,” you whispered back, feeling a little shy despite everything that had just happened.

And after it was over, after the heat and frenzy of it had passed, he’d stay on the line with you, his voice softening as he asked about your day, about your life. He’d talk about the things he wanted to do with you when he saw you again—places he wanted to take you, moments he wanted to share. And though the words were often filled with playful flirtation, there was an undercurrent of something deeper, something that left you wondering if it was more than just a casual fling for him, too.

But for all the passion, for all the heat, there remained that same phrase, echoing in your mind every time you spoke to him: We’ll just see where it goes. He had said it so many times, always with that teasing smile, as if the future was something neither of you could—or should—try to predict.

And yet, the more time you spent talking to him, the harder it became to keep your walls up. At first, you had tried to convince yourself that it was just physical, that it was the thrill of being wanted by someone like him. But the truth was, Remy had a way of getting under your skin. It wasn’t just the phone sex, though that certainly had its hold on you—leaving you breathless and aching for more, night after night. No, it was the way he spoke to you afterward, the way he asked questions and actually listened to your answers, the way he remembered the small details about your life that you hadn’t even realized you’d shared.

He had a way of making you feel wanted, even when he was thousands of miles away. And that scared you.

Because how could you possibly let yourself fall for someone like him? Someone whose life was a whirlwind of fame, fortune, and endless attention. Someone who could have anyone, anywhere, yet somehow was choosing to spend his nights strumming his guitar and talking to you. It didn’t make sense. You weren’t naïve—you knew the kind of life someone like Remy led. The constant travel, the adoring fans, the temptations of a rockstar’s world. And you… well, you were just a small part of that. Weren’t you?

A part of you wanted to believe that maybe it could be something more. That maybe, for all his charm and effortless cool, Remy was looking for something real. Something deeper. But the other part of you—the part that had been burned before, the part that had learned to be cautious—was terrified. You’d been hurt before. You knew what it felt like to open yourself up, only to be left shattered in the end. You’d built these walls for a reason, after all. You couldn’t afford to let yourself get hurt again.

But as you sat there, watching him through the screen, his fingers moving effortlessly over the strings of his guitar, you felt your heart ache with the familiar pull of emotion. The way he looked at you—his brow furrowed in concentration as he lost himself in the music—it was like you were the only thing grounding him, the only thing keeping him anchored in the chaos of his life. And that made it so much harder to keep your distance.

“Whatcha thinkin’ ‘bout?” Remy’s voice broke through your thoughts, pulling you back to the present. His eyes were on you again, sharp and curious, as if he could sense the shift in your mood.

You hesitated for a moment, unsure of how to answer. How could you possibly put all of this into words? The swirl of emotions, the fear, the longing. But then you smiled softly, shaking your head. “Nothing,” you lied, your voice gentle. “Just… enjoying the music.”

His lips curled into that familiar, lazy grin, the one that always made your heart skip a beat. “Good,” he murmured, his voice low and warm. “’Cause I’m playin’ this just for you, cher.”

Your heart fluttered at his words, and for a brief moment, you let yourself believe it. You let yourself believe that maybe, just maybe, this wasn’t just a passing fling. That maybe it was something more. Something real.

You sighed softly, snuggling deeper into your blankets, the warmth of the music and his voice lulling you into a comfortable, if bittersweet, peace. You didn’t know what the future held. You didn’t know if this thing with Remy was destined to burn out as quickly as it had begun, or if it could turn into something lasting.

All you knew was that the more time you spent with him—whether it was through the phone, through late-night video calls, or in that breathless space between passion and vulnerability—the harder it became to guard your heart.

“You look tired,” you commented, your voice soft and muffled as you lay half-buried in your pillow, your body wrapped in the comforting warmth of your blankets. The glow of your phone screen illuminated your face, casting a soft light over the room, but all you could focus on was him—Remy, sitting there on the other end of the video call, his eyes heavy with exhaustion.

He paused, his gaze meeting yours through the screen, and for a moment, he didn’t say anything. Then he let out a soft chuckle, his lips curling into a familiar, crooked smile. “I am,” he admitted, running a hand through his tousled hair. “But as you always tell me, there’s no rest for the wicked.”

You smiled at that, a small, tired smile of your own, remembering how often you had teased him about his relentless schedule, about how he never seemed to stop moving. You licked your lips, your voice softening with concern. “You should get some sleep, Remy. Have you slept at all?” you asked, the worry clear in your tone.

He shook his head, his smile fading just slightly as he leaned back in his chair, his body visibly tense, though he tried to hide it. “Nah,” he said with a shrug, as if it were no big deal. “I’ve got to be up in a few hours anyway. Some interview with one of those late-night talk show things.” He watched as you shifted deeper inside your covers, your face barely visible now except for the soft glow of your eyes on the screen. His expression softened, and there was something else there too—something more vulnerable, more real. “But I wanted to run something by you anyway.”

Your interest piqued at that, and you pushed yourself up a little, propping your chin on your hand, your sleepy eyes fixing on him through the screen. “What is it?” you asked, your curiosity laced with a hint of anticipation.

Remy hesitated for a moment, his eyes flickering away from the camera as if he were gathering his thoughts, or maybe his courage. Then, with a quiet sigh, he looked back at you, the familiar teasing smile slipping back onto his lips, though there was a softness behind it. “We’ve got a few days off, and I was thinkin’...” He paused, his voice trailing off for a beat before he continued, “I was gonna fly there and come see y’.”

Your heart skipped a beat at his words, and you felt a small smile tug at the corners of your lips, the kind you couldn’t suppress even if you tried. It was one thing to talk to him on the phone every night, to share your moments through a screen—but the thought of him being here, in person, made something flutter inside your chest. You tried to keep your voice calm, but there was no hiding the excitement that slipped through. “For how many days?” you asked, though you already knew that his schedule probably wouldn’t allow for much.

He laughed softly, the sound warm and familiar, though there was a trace of weariness behind it. “Like… one and a half,” he said, shaking his head as if the idea itself was ridiculous. “Not much, I know. But I’d make the most of it.” His voice was playful, but there was a sincerity in his eyes that made your heart ache a little. “Wha’dya think?”

And then, suddenly, he went quiet. For a moment, the playful energy drained from his expression, replaced by something more cautious, more unsure. It was rare to see him like this—Remy, who was always so confident, so effortlessly charming. But now, he looked almost hesitant, as if he wasn’t sure how you’d react, as if he wasn’t sure if you’d want him to come at all.

The silence stretched between you, and you could feel the weight of his question hanging in the air. He was waiting for your answer, and for once, it felt like more than just a casual suggestion. There was something deeper behind it, something that made your chest tighten with both excitement and fear.

You let out a soft breath, your smile widening as you looked at him, your heart already knowing the answer before your mind could catch up. “I think,” you said slowly, your voice warm and teasing, “that you should come for a visit.”

For a split second, relief flashed across his face, followed by that familiar grin—the one that always made your heart skip a beat. “Yeah?” he asked, his voice lighter now, the tension melting away. “Even if it’s just for a day and a half?”

“Even if it’s just for a day and a half,” you confirmed, your voice soft but sure. “I’ll take whatever time I can get.”

He smiled at that, a genuine, almost boyish smile that made him look younger, softer. “Good,” he murmured, his voice low and full of warmth. “’Cause I’ve been missin’ you, cher. More than I should, probably.”

Your heart fluttered at his words, and you felt a warmth spread through your chest, a mixture of happiness and something else—something deeper that you weren’t quite ready to name yet. “I’ve missed you too,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper, but you knew he heard you.

For a moment, neither of you said anything, the silence between you comfortable, filled with the unspoken things that neither of you were ready to put into words just yet. But it was enough—just knowing that he wanted to see you, that he was willing to fly across the country just to spend a day and a half with you. It was enough to make you feel like maybe—just maybe—this thing between you was more than just a passing fling.

“Alright,” he said after a while, his voice soft but filled with a kind of determination. “I’ll book the flight tomorrow. And when I get there, I’m gonna make sure I make up for lost time.”

You smiled, your heart full as you snuggled deeper into your blankets. “I’ll hold you to that, LeBeau.”

“You better,” he teased, his grin widening. But as you both fell into a comfortable silence again, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something had shifted between you—that this wasn’t just another night of playful banter and teasing promises. This was real. This was something more.

A lazy smile crossed your face as you shifted slightly under your blankets, your phone propped up against your pillow. “So, where’re we gonna meet?” you asked, your voice light, teasing, though part of you was genuinely curious. The thought of seeing him in person again, after all the late-night calls and whispered conversations, sent a thrill through you that you couldn’t quite suppress.

Remy leaned back in his chair, his eyes narrowing slightly in that way they always did when he was thinking, the faintest hint of mischief already dancing behind them. He shrugged casually, his lips curling into a smirk as he stretched his arms behind his head. “We’ll figure it out,” he drawled, his voice smooth, that lazy Southern charm dripping from every word. “But I think we both know it don’t really matter where we meet, cher.” His gaze lingered on you through the screen, his eyes dark and intent. “It’s what happens after that, that’ll count.”

You felt a soft flutter in your chest at his words, warmth spreading through your body as your smile grew wider. You gave a small shrug, pretending to think it over for a moment. “Well, there’s not a lot to do around here,” you teased, your voice light but your mind already wandering to what could happen when you were finally in the same space again, without a screen between you.

Remy’s smirk deepened, his eyes flashing with a hint of something darker, something more playful. He leaned forward slightly, his voice dropping to that low, intimate tone that always made your heart race. “Y’r makin’ it sound like I’m gonna let you leave the hotel while I’m in town,” he murmured, his words slow and deliberate, each one sending a shiver down your spine.

Your breath caught for a moment, heat rising to your cheeks as you tried to suppress the grin that was threatening to break across your face. But it was no use. You leaned closer to the camera, your voice dropping to a soft, teasing whisper. “Is that a promise?” you asked, your heart pounding in your chest, though you kept your tone playful.

He chuckled softly, the sound low and rich, and you could hear the unspoken promise in it. “Oh, it’s more than a promise, cher.” His voice was velvet, the kind of smooth that wrapped around you and pulled you in, leaving you breathless. “I’ve got… some ideas. Things I’ve been thinkin’ ‘bout. Things I’ve been wantin’ to try.” He paused, letting the words linger in the air between you, his eyes watching you closely through the screen, gauging your reaction.

Your skin tingled at the suggestion, your pulse quickening with the anticipation that was building between you. You could feel the heat rising in your body, the way his words sent a thrill of excitement racing through you. It was the way he said it—so casual, so confident, like he already knew exactly what he wanted to do with you, and exactly how he was going to make it happen.

“Oh?” you breathed, your voice soft as you bit your lip, trying to play it cool even though your mind was already racing with possibilities. “Care to elaborate?”

Remy’s eyes darkened, his smirk widening as he leaned even closer to the camera, his face filling the screen. His voice dropped another octave, his words coming out slow and deliberate, each one sending a fresh wave of heat through you. “Let’s just say,” he began, his tone smooth, teasing, “I’ve been thinkin’ ‘bout how much I wanna take my time with you, cher. How much I wanna make up for all the nights we’ve spent apart.” He paused, his gaze intense, his voice softening even further. “I’ve got plans. And I promise y’... you won’t be leavin’ that bed anytime soon.”

Your heart pounded in your chest, your breath catching at his words. The way he said it, the way he looked at you through the screen—it was like he wasn’t just speaking about physical intimacy, but something deeper, something that made your skin tingle and your mind spin with possibilities. It was as if he was telling you that this wasn’t just about passion, but about the connection you’d been building, the intimacy that had grown between you, even from a distance.

You swallowed, your voice coming out a little more breathless than you intended. “You’ve really thought this through, huh?”

His grin softened, though the intensity in his gaze didn’t waver. “Oh, I’ve had plenty of time to think about it,” he said, his voice low and warm. “Every night we’ve talked, every time I’ve heard your voice, I’ve been thinkin’ ‘bout what I’d do when I finally got y’ in front of me again. And believe me, cher, I plan on takin’ my time.”

You shivered at his words, your entire body reacting to the promise in them, the way his voice curled around the syllables like a caress. The idea of finally being with him, of feeling his touch, of experiencing all the things he had hinted at during your late-night conversations—it was almost too much to think about.

But it wasn’t just the physical that drew you to him. It was the way he made you feel seen, the way he could shift from playful flirtation to something more serious, more intimate, without missing a beat. It was the way he spoke to you as if you were the only person in the world, the way he made you feel wanted, desired, in a way that went beyond just attraction.

And now, with the promise of seeing him again so close, you could feel that pull between you growing stronger, the anticipation building like a current of electricity that you couldn’t ignore.

You smiled, your voice soft as you replied, “Well… I guess I’ll just have to clear my schedule then.”

Remy chuckled, the sound low and rich, sending another shiver down your spine. “Good,” he murmured, his voice full of affection, though there was still that teasing edge beneath it. “’Cause once I get there, cher, I ain’t lettin’ you go.”

You grinned, your heart full as you curled deeper into your blankets. “I’m counting on it.”

And as you both fell into a comfortable silence, the weight of his words lingering in the air between you, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of warmth, of excitement, mixed with just a hint of nervousness. Because this wasn’t just another phone call, another night of teasing and playful banter. This was real. He was coming to see you. And when he arrived, everything between you would change.

But for the first time in a long time, you didn’t feel scared. You felt ready. <><><><>

Remy sat quietly, just watching you. The dim light from your phone screen illuminated your face, casting a soft glow over your features as you lay nestled under the covers. Your eyelids were heavy with sleep, but you were still trying to hold on to the conversation, your voice fading in and out with exhaustion. The day had clearly worn you down, and he could see it in the way your body slowly gave in, sinking deeper into the bed, your breathing becoming slower, more rhythmic.

He should’ve told you to go to sleep, to rest, but selfishly, he didn’t want to end the moment. He wanted to stay here, with you, for just a little longer.

There was something about these late-night (Or early morning for him) calls that always left him feeling unsettled—but not in a bad way. There was something about you that made him feel… different. He wasn’t sure when it had happened, but somewhere along the way, you had become more than just a voice on the other end of the line. You’d become a part of his day, a part of his routine. And, more dangerously, a part of his thoughts.

And that scared him more than anything else.

He sighed softly, his gaze still lingering on you as he reached for his guitar. His fingers found the strings instinctively, the familiar weight of the instrument settling in his lap like it always did.

He began to strum softly, the opening chords filling the quiet space between you. You recognized the song immediately—of course you did. He could see it in the way your face softened, a small, sleepy smile tugging at your lips as your eyes fluttered closed. This was one of your songs, one of those tracks you’d both talked about at length during long, late-night conversations. There was something about it that resonated with both of you, something unspoken and shared.

He hadn’t sung this song in a long time, and now, with you lying there, on the verge of sleep, the meaning behind the lyrics hit him in a way he hadn’t expected.

Because the truth was, he didn’t know how to navigate this. He wasn’t used to caring this much. He wasn’t used to letting someone in, especially someone like you—someone who didn’t fit into the chaos of his world.

You didn’t care about the fame. In fact, you hated it. He knew that about you. You’d talked about it before, how the idea of paparazzi, cameras, and flashing lights made your skin crawl. You were the kind of person who valued your solitude, your quiet life. You loved your little apartment with the garden bed out front, where you grew herbs and flowers, tending to them like they were your own private escape from the world. You’d once joked about the crack in the ceiling that drove you nuts, how you’d planned to fix it yourself, but never got around to it. It had become an inside joke between you, the crack that you swore had "character" and "personality."

You liked your anonymity. You liked being able to walk down the street without anyone noticing you, without anyone caring. You had your own space, your own life, and you cherished it.

And that’s where the problem was.

Remy’s life was the complete opposite. His world was all flashing lights, screaming fans, and relentless attention. There was no hiding, no escaping the cameras or the constant buzz of people wanting something from him. He couldn’t disappear into the background, couldn’t just enjoy a quiet moment in a small apartment without the risk of someone snapping a photo or leaking details to the press. His life wasn’t built for the kind of peace you cherished.

And that terrified him. Because how could he ask you to be a part of that? How could he drag you into the chaos of his world when he knew how much you valued your privacy, your independence? Remy felt the familiar tug in his chest. He knew that his feelings for you had already grown deeper than he’d anticipated. He hadn’t meant for it to happen, but it had. You’d become important to him, in a way that scared him because it made him vulnerable.

He watched you as your breathing slowed, your body sinking deeper into the mattress. You were asleep now, completely relaxed, your face so peaceful, so content. And yet, you still wore that small, faint smile, the one that made his heart ache in ways he couldn’t quite explain.

But that thought—the thought of pulling away, of protecting himself from the heartbreak that could come with letting you in—came with its own set of problems. Because the truth was, he didn’t want to pull back. He didn’t want to protect himself.

He didn’t want to lose this. He didn’t want to lose you.

His fingers moved effortlessly over the strings, but his mind was somewhere else entirely. He thought about all the times you’d joked about your quiet life, about how you loved your little apartment, your garden, your anonymity. And as much as he loved hearing you talk about it, a part of him always felt a pang of guilt. Because if this—whatever this was between you—kept growing, he knew he’d be pulling you into a world that was the opposite of everything you valued.

For a long time, he just sat there, watching you sleep, his thoughts a tangled mess of emotions he wasn’t sure how to handle. He hadn’t planned for this. He hadn’t planned for you. But now, you were here, in his life, and he couldn’t imagine it without you.

But how could he move forward? How could he let himself care about you the way he wanted to, knowing that his life would inevitably pull you into the spotlight, into a world you didn’t want to be a part of? The more he thought about it, the more he realized just how complicated things could become.

Yet, every time he considered pulling back, distancing himself to protect both of you from the chaos and the heartbreak, he hesitated.

Because the truth was, he didn’t want to lose you.

He didn’t know the answer yet. He didn’t know how to make this work, how to bridge the gap between his world and yours. But as he looked at you now, sleeping peacefully with that faint smile still lingering on your lips, one thing was clear: he wasn’t ready to let you go.

And before he could stop himself, he whispered the opening line of the song, barely loud enough for even him to hear

"So lately, been wonderin'... Who will be there to take my place…When I’m gone….You’ll need love….to light the shadows on your face…"

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rogueshadow1124 · 1 day

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CHASING THE QUIET MOMENTS

[Jason Todd x reader]

Summary: where Y/N and Jason stay content with the moment of peace they have. Reference to the song 'chasing cars' by snow patrol.

Word count: 1740

Warnimg: none.

The night was still, the kind of stillness that wrapped the Gotham skyline in a shroud of peace rarely afforded to the restless city. Moonlight filtered through the tall windows of an old apartment building, casting silver shadows that danced across the floor of a dimly lit room. In this serene atmosphere sat Y/N Y/L/N, her legs curled up beneath her on the couch, bathed in the glow of her laptop screen. The gentle hum of the city outside was a far cry from the chaos it so often descended into. Here, in this moment, it felt like time had slowed down, as though she had found a sliver of tranquility in a place that hardly ever knew it.

Yet the silence felt incomplete.

Her eyes drifted toward the balcony door, slightly ajar to allow the cool night air to sweep in. It brought with it a familiar smell, the scent of rain threatening in the distance, a reminder of just how fleeting peace could be in Gotham. But tonight wasn’t about the weather, or the chaos lurking beyond her apartment. Tonight, her mind was on him—Jason Todd.

Jason was not someone easily forgotten. The first time they had met, Y/N had been struck by how much of a contradiction he was. There was something magnetic about him, something that pulled her in despite her initial resistance. His smirk was reckless, his voice a mix of sarcasm and grit, but behind that rough exterior, Y/N had glimpsed a vulnerability that he kept buried beneath layers of trauma. Jason was a storm—unpredictable, dangerous, but also mesmerizing.

They had never been the type for grand gestures, nor had they needed to be. Their connection was built in the quiet moments between the chaos, in the fleeting instances where neither of them had to fight against the world. Jason, despite his vigilante persona as the Red Hood, always found time to seek her out, to collapse into her apartment in the dead of night when Gotham became too heavy for him to bear alone.

And tonight, Y/N knew he was coming.

The faint sound of a grappling hook catching on the railing outside reached her ears, and her heart skipped. A soft thud followed as Jason landed on her balcony, barely making a sound, the shadow of his figure looming just beyond the sliding glass door. She didn’t have to look to know it was him. There was a certain calm that filled her when Jason was near, even when he brought the weight of his world with him.

The door slid open a moment later, and there he stood, clad in his usual black jacket, the hood pulled down as his helmet dangled loosely in his grip. His dark hair was a mess from the night’s work, and there was an exhaustion in his eyes that she knew too well. He always came to her when he had nowhere else to go, when his war with Gotham’s criminals had left him raw and vulnerable.

“Hey,” Jason’s voice broke the quiet, low and rough around the edges, as if even speaking cost him energy tonight.

“Hey,” Y/N replied softly, a small smile tugging at her lips. She set her laptop aside, uncurling from her spot on the couch as she stood to meet him.

Jason kicked the door shut behind him with the heel of his boot before he made his way over to her, each step heavy, deliberate. Without a word, Y/N stepped closer, her arms instinctively wrapping around his waist as his arms draped around her shoulders. For a moment, they stood in silence, holding each other. Jason exhaled slowly, as though simply being in her presence allowed him to let go of the tension he carried like armor.

The silence between them was comfortable, filled with the unspoken understanding that no words were necessary to convey what they felt. It was moments like these—quiet, intimate, and real—that made everything else fade away. With Jason, Y/N had learned that not every connection needed to be defined or labeled, that sometimes just being there for someone, offering them a place where they could let their guard down, was enough.

“Rough night?” she asked quietly, her cheek resting against his chest.

Jason let out a humorless chuckle, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “When is it not?”

Y/N pulled back slightly to look up at him, her eyes scanning his face, searching for signs of whatever weight he was carrying this time. His jaw was clenched, tension radiating from him in waves, but his eyes—their usual sharpness dulled by exhaustion—softened as he looked at her. He never said much about what haunted him. She knew the broad strokes of his life, of the brutality he had suffered and the way it had shaped him into the man he was now. But the details? Those he kept locked away.

“Come on,” Y/N said, taking his hand and leading him over to the couch. “You look like you could use a break.”

Jason didn’t protest, letting her guide him without a word. He sat down heavily, the weight of his night pulling at his shoulders as he slouched against the cushions. Y/N followed, sitting close beside him, her hand still entwined with his. For a while, they sat like that, the only sound in the room the steady rhythm of their breathing.

If I lay here… If I just lay here… Would you lie with me and just forget the world?

The lyrics played softly in her mind, echoing the sentiment they often found themselves in. Jason was the kind of person who chased after everything—revenge, redemption, justice—but never seemed to catch the peace he so desperately needed. And yet, here with her, in these moments, it was like they were both finally able to just stop running. To stop fighting.

“I could stay like this,” Jason murmured, breaking the silence. His voice was barely a whisper, like he wasn’t sure he wanted her to hear.

Y/N’s heart ached at the words. She knew what he meant. There was a part of him that was always looking for an escape, always looking for a reason to believe that maybe, just maybe, he didn’t have to be the man he’d become. That he didn’t have to live in the shadow of the Bat, or under the weight of his resurrection. But life wasn’t that simple, and both of them knew it.

“I know,” she said quietly, squeezing his hand. “I could too.”

Jason turned his head to look at her, his blue eyes filled with something that was neither love nor longing, but something in between. It was the look of a man who didn’t know how to express the depth of his feelings, who didn’t know how to ask for what he needed. Y/N had seen that look so many times, and every time, it broke her heart just a little more.

Without saying a word, she reached up, brushing a strand of hair from his forehead, her fingers lingering against his skin. Jason closed his eyes at the touch, leaning into it as though it was the only thing anchoring him to this world.

“You don’t always have to fight,” she whispered, her voice gentle, like a soft breeze on a summer night. “You don’t have to be strong all the time, Jason.”

His eyes opened, searching hers for a moment, as though he was trying to find the strength to believe her. But Jason had been fighting for so long that he didn’t know how to stop. He didn’t know how to let go.

“I don’t know how to do that,” he admitted, his voice raw, vulnerable in a way that he rarely allowed himself to be.

Y/N shifted closer, resting her head on his shoulder. “You don’t have to figure it out alone.”

For a moment, Jason didn’t say anything. He simply sat there, staring at the far wall as though the answer to all his problems was hidden in the peeling paint. But there was no answer, no easy fix for the life he led. All he had was the here and now, and the woman sitting beside him, offering him a lifeline he didn’t think he deserved.

But maybe, just maybe, he could let himself have this one thing.

Jason leaned his head against hers, closing his eyes again. “If I stay…if I stop…” His words trailed off, the unspoken fear lingering in the air between them.

Y/N knew what he was trying to say. He was afraid that if he stopped, if he allowed himself to let go, the pain, the anger, the guilt—it would all catch up to him, and he wouldn’t know how to handle it. But what Jason didn’t realize was that he didn’t have to face it alone. He had her.

“If you stop, I’ll still be here,” she said softly. “We’ll figure it out together.”

Her words were simple, but they carried a weight that made Jason’s chest tighten. He wasn’t used to having someone who cared for him like this, who saw beyond the mask he wore and loved him anyway. It scared him, how much he needed her, how much he relied on these quiet moments to keep him sane.

But tonight, under the soft glow of the moonlight, with the city sleeping below them, Jason decided to let himself believe her. Just for tonight, he would let himself stop chasing the ghosts of his past and allow himself to simply be.

So they lay there, side by side, in the stillness of the room. The world outside continued to spin, but for Jason and Y/N, time had slowed down, allowing them this brief moment of peace. They didn’t need to talk about the future or what came next. All they needed was this—the quiet, the comfort, and the promise that neither of them had to face the darkness alone.

And for once, Jason didn’t feel the need to chase anything. Not the stars, not revenge, and not his demons. For once, he was content to just be here, with her, forgetting the world.

#jason todd #jason todd x reader #x reader #gotham #batboys #batfamily #red hood #x y/n #red hood x reader #vigilante #dc comics

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acute-scary · 2 days

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Between the Ropes.. a Jey Uso x Rhea Ripley Fanfic.

Chapter 15: Now Wait A Damn Hour..

Rhea sat cross-legged on the couch, surrounded by the warmth of furry bodies—her pets snuggled close, and Jon and Trinity’s dogs sprawled out on the floor around her. The comforting sound of Snapped droned in the background, but Rhea was more invested in the chips she was munching on, crinkling the bag as she reached for another handful.

Her eyes were fixed on the screen when a scene unfolded. "That's where he fucked up!" she exclaimed, pointing at the TV. "Do you see that shit, guys? Left the damn murder weapon!" The dogs’ ears perked up at her voice, some looking her way as if they understood her frustration. “Amateurs," she muttered, shaking her head as she tossed a chip toward one of the dogs, who happily caught it.

Jey had been gone for what felt like hours, and her stomach growled, reminding her that she was waiting on only two things: Hawaiian pizza and brownies. How hard could it be to find that in Florida? she thought to herself, glancing at the time on her phone. She was just about ready to order DoorDash if he didn’t show up soon. Her hunger was gnawing at her now, and the thought of warm pizza was starting to make her impatient.

Suddenly, her phone rang, jolting her out of her thoughts. She jumped, her heart skipping a beat as she fumbled for it on the couch. Rhea had forgotten she’d changed her ringtone and the unfamiliar sound made her chest tighten with unease. She grabbed the phone and answered without checking the number, a knot forming in her stomach.

“Hello. You have a collect call from the Orange County Jail from Inmate Number 2498148 … 'Matthew Adams,' do you wish to accept the charges?”

Her breath caught in her throat. The sound of Matt’s name made her blood run cold. She stared at the phone for a split second, heart pounding, before she abruptly hung up. A shiver ran down her spine, and her hands shook as she blocked the number.

She quickly called Jey, her fingers trembling as she dialed. The phone rang, and Rhea anxiously waited for him to pick up, her thoughts spiraling.

The phone rang once, twice, and by the third ring, Rhea was tapping her foot anxiously against the floor, biting her lip. Finally, Jey’s voice came through, a bit muffled but familiar.

“Yo, what’s up?”

“Where are you?” Rhea blurted out, her voice sharp with a mix of fear and frustration.

There was a pause on the other end. “I’m about ten minutes out, got caught in traffic. I’ve got the pizza and brownies. What’s wrong? You sound off babe.”

Rhea swallowed hard, trying to calm herself, but the chill from Matt’s call still clung to her. “Matt,” she whispered, barely able to say his name aloud. “He just called. From jail.”

The line went silent for a moment before Jey spoke again, his voice low and serious. “Did you answer it?”

“I—I didn’t mean to. I didn’t recognize the number, and then I heard his name, and I just hung up. I blocked it, but—God, Jey, I didn’t think I’d ever hear from him again.”

Jey cursed under his breath. “That bastard. I swear, if I ever—” He cut himself off, trying to rein in his anger. “He’s just trying to mess with you, babe. He knows he’s lost. Don’t let him get in your head.”

Rhea closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. “I’m trying, but after everything… the baby, the hospital, the detectives—" She paused, her voice trembling. "I thought it was over. Why is he still doing this? Why can’t he just leave me alone?”

Jey’s voice softened, filled with concern. “I’m almost there, okay? Just hang tight. We’ll figure this out together, like we always do.”

Rhea nodded, even though he couldn’t see her. She needed him here, more than ever. “Okay. Just… hurry.”

They ended the call, and Rhea sat there for a moment, staring at her phone, her heart still racing. She glanced down at the dogs, who had sensed her distress and were now crowding closer, their eyes filled with concern. She reached out to pet them, her fingers sinking into their soft fur as a way to ground herself. The warmth from them was comforting, but it didn’t chase away the chill that Matt’s call had left behind.

Jey had always been her anchor in the chaos, and she needed that now more than ever. The weight of everything — the affair, the pregnancy, the loss — was becoming heavier each day, and now, with Matt trying to claw his way back into her life, it felt like she was being suffocated all over again.

Rhea took a deep breath, pushing the fear aside. She had faced worse. She was strong. But deep down, she couldn’t deny the fact that Matt’s shadow still lingered over her life, and now, he had made his presence known once again. She clenched her fists. Not again. Not this time.

Minutes felt like hours as she waited for Jey. When the door finally swung open, the smell of pizza hit her before Jey even said a word. He stepped into the room with Jon trailing behind, carrying the pizza and brownies, but the look on his face showed he was more concerned about her than anything else.

“I’m here,” he said softly, setting the food down on the coffee table before walking over to her. Without hesitation, he pulled her into his arms, and she melted into him, feeling the weight of her fear and anxiety momentarily lift as his warmth enveloped her.

“He’s not gonna touch you, ever again,” Jey whispered against her hair. “Not while I’m here.”

Rhea clung to him, her eyes shut tight as she let his words sink in. For the first time in what felt like forever, she allowed herself to feel safe. But in the back of her mind, she knew this wasn’t the end. Not yet.

As Rhea pulled away from Jey’s arms, Jon stood nearby, watching them with concern. After a moment, he broke the silence.

“Rhea, you need to change your number,” Jon said, his voice gentle but firm. “Blocking him won’t stop him forever. This is the only way to make sure he can’t reach you again.”

Jey nodded, stepping in to back him up. “Yeah, I’ll add you to my plan, make it easy. We can do it today. No more of this Matt crap getting in your head.”

Rhea broke free from the hug and shook her head. “I don’t want to run. I’m not hiding from him,” she said, frustration creeping into her voice. “I’m not going to let him make me live in fear.”

Jon stepped closer, his face soft with understanding but still firm. “This isn’t running, Rhea. It’s protecting yourself. You’re not giving him power—you’re just putting up walls so he can’t reach you. That’s not weakness. It’s strength.”

Rhea looked away for a moment, chewing on her lip as she thought about it. Jon had a point, but it still felt like she was giving in, in some small way. After a beat, she sighed, nodding. “Okay… you’re right. I’ll do it.”

Jon gave a slight smile of approval, and Jey’s serious expression lightened. “Good. Now let’s focus on something better, like food.” He moved to the coffee table, flipping open the pizza box.

Rhea’s eyes narrowed as she glanced at the box. “Hold on… is that Pizza Hut?” she asked, raising a brow.

Jey grinned, pulling out a slice of the Hawaiian pizza she’d requested. “Yeah, it was the fastest option. What, not fancy enough for you?”

Rhea took the slice, biting into it with a smirk. “No, no, it’s perfect. I just thought it’d be my last meal before I end up on Snapped. You know, murder charges and all that.” Her tone was dark, but the joke was clear.

Jey burst out laughing, while Jon chuckled and shook his head. “You’ve got a twisted sense of humor, you know that?” Jey said, still laughing.

“Hey,” Rhea said, waving the pizza slice. “If I ever get caught, it won’t be because I left the damn murder weapon out like those idiots.” She shot a look at the TV, where Snapped was still playing in the background.

Jey grinned, sitting down beside her with his own slice. “Nah, you’re way too smart for that. If anyone’s surviving this mess, it’s you.”

Rhea smiled, feeling a little more grounded. It wasn’t over, but for the first time in days, she gained control.

Jey lay on the king-sized bed, his phone pressed to his ear as he spoke to the customer service representative. Meanwhile, Rhea sat cross-legged beside him, carefully painting her nails a sleek black. Jon, stretched out on the floor with his dogs lounging around him, was taking in the scene with quiet amusement.

"$1,600 for a phone?" Jey exclaimed, clearly in disbelief. Rhea flashed him a mischievous smile but kept her focus on her nails.

"Yeah, yeah, I still want to get it. It’s the only one she wants…" Jey added reluctantly, glancing at her as if he had no choice in the matter. Rhea just shrugged with a smirk, clearly enjoying how easily she could sway him.

"Desert Titanium, 1TB. No, I don’t need the AppleCare," Jey said, and before he could react, Rhea punched him lightly on the shoulder using her dried hand.

“Ow—nevermind! I’ll take the AppleCare,” Jey quickly corrected himself, giving her a side-eye as he rubbed his arm. “No, I don’t need a case…” Before he could finish, Rhea punched him again, this time a little harder.

“Oww! Okay, okay, a case! A pink one.” Jey grinned, trying to get a rise out of her.

Rhea wasn’t having it and immediately threw another punch.

“Ow! Fine, fine, a black one! I’m sorry,” Jey groaned, defeated, as Jon watched the entire exchange from the floor, barely containing his laughter.

"$49 for a car charger?" Jey blurted out, the incredulity back in his voice. This time, before Rhea could punch him, he held up his hand in defense. But Rhea was quicker. With a grin, she used her foot instead, lightly kicking him in the side.

“Owww… okay, yes, please! Throw in whatever other accessories you’ve got; I’m begging you,” Jey pleaded, his voice a mix of pain and surrender. Jon burst out laughing, thoroughly entertained by the whole ordeal.

When Jey finally got off the phone, he turned to Rhea, a playful smirk on his face. “Your Highness, your $1,800 phone order will be ready for pickup tomorrow, Saturday, at 3:30 PM,” he said with exaggerated amusement, bowing his head slightly in mock servitude.

Rhea smiled, leaning in to give him a soft kiss on the cheek. “Good boy,” she teased, and they both laughed, feeling at ease in the comfort of each other’s company.

Jon, still lying on the floor, wiped a tear from his eye, unable to stop laughing at Jey’s ordeal. "You two are something else," he muttered, shaking his head as his dogs nuzzled him.

“Bestieeeee!” Rhea exclaimed, practically glowing as she wiggled her freshly painted black nails in front of Jey. Her excitement was infectious.

“Oooh, girrrrl!” Jey responded in a playful tone, admiring her nails. “Looking fierce!”

Jon, lounging on the floor with the dogs, glanced up with a bored expression. “What are we going to do? I’m getting kind of restless here.”

Jey chuckled, shaking his head. “Uce’, you can’t just enjoy a comfortable situation for once? Always gotta be on the go, huh?”

Before Jon could respond, there was a knock on the door. The sudden sound made all three of them freeze, curiosity piqued.

“I’ll get it you scaredy cats.” Jon said, pushing himself off the floor and heading towards the stairs.

As he made his way down, he called out, “Awh hell, bisexual Undertaker is in Uso territory!” His laugh echoed up the stairs, mingling with the sound of his footsteps.

Rhea’s eyes widened in excitement, and despite the pain in her abdomen, she sprang up from the bed, moving with surprising speed. She darted towards the stairs, nearly tripping in her haste but managing to catch herself just in time. Her smile was so wide it seemed to light up the entire hallway.

When Rhea reached the bottom of the stairs, she saw Damian standing at the door, his presence commanding and warm.

“Damian!” she shouted, her voice filled with joy.

Damian grinned, taking in the sight of Rhea’s enthusiasm. “Hey there, my Tormenta.” He said even with a bigger smile.

Rhea ran to him, almost tackling him with a hug. “I can’t believe you’re here! This is the best surprise ever!”

Jey appeared at the top of the stairs, looking down with a pleased expression. “Guess I should’ve known you’d show up when we least expected it.”

Damian laughed, ruffling Rhea’s hair. “I was in the neighborhood and thought I’d drop by. Hope I’m not interrupting anything too serious.”

Rhea shook her head, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “No way, this is exactly what we needed. Come on in, let’s hang out!”

Damian stepped inside, and the group began to settle back into the living room. The atmosphere lightened as they prepared to enjoy the unexpected visit. For the first time in a while, Rhea felt a genuine sense of joy, surrounded by her best friend.

—

As the music from the speakers filled the patio once more, creating a lively and upbeat atmosphere, Jon busied himself with his phone, ordering some more food and drinks. He turned to Damian with a grin, asking, “What kind of beer do you want?”

Damian shrugged casually, “Whatever you’re drinking is fine by me.”

“Got it,” Jon replied, tapping away on his phone as he added a few more items to the order.

Soon enough, all four of them—Rhea, Jey, Jon, and Damian—settled comfortably on the back patio. The pets were a whirlwind of activity, running around the backyard and adding to the joyful chaos. The warm evening air and the sounds of their laughter made the setting feel almost like a scene from a perfect day.

Rhea, still bubbling with excitement from Damian’s unexpected arrival, turned to him with curiosity. “So, Damian, how did you end up here? And why’d you leave Kayden at the Airbnb?”

Damian chuckled, leaning back in his chair with a relaxed demeanor. “Well, Mr. Hothead over here,” he said, gesturing to Jon with a playful smirk, “called me up yesterday and asked if I could be a… como… a Happy Dark Presence in his home for his fellow Samoan. Couldn’t say no to that. I also didn’t leave Kayden at the AirBnb. She had Tiffany come and stay with her, I told her you needed cheering up and she understood.”

Rhea’s face lit up with pure joy. “That’s amazing! I’m so glad you’re here. You really made my day.”

Jey, sitting beside Rhea, chuckled at her enthusiasm. “Yeah, I guess I did keep you locked up this morning, didn’t I?”

Damian grinned, winking at Jey. “You know, it’s like I’m Shrek and Rhea’s Fiona and you are Fiona’s dad. Just needed a little help to get out of that tower.”

Rhea burst into laughter, her eyes twinkling with amusement. “Oh my God, that’s perfect! Damian, you’re definitely our Shrek.”

Jey laughed along with the others, shaking his head. “As long as I’m not Lord Farquad, then I guess I can live with it.”

As the conversation flowed seamlessly, Rhea’s curiosity about Jon and Jey’s tattoos grew. “I’d love to hear more about your tattoos,” she said, leaning in. “I’ve seen bits of them, but I want to know the stories behind them.”

Jon and Jey exchanged an amused glance. Jon began to explain with enthusiasm, “Our tattoos are deeply significant. They reflect our Samoan heritage, each design representing aspects of family, strength, and personal journey. They’re not just tattoos; they’re a narrative of who we are.”

Rhea’s eyes sparkled with interest. “That’s incredible. I’ve been thinking about getting a new tattoo. Something with real meaning.”

Jon’s eyes lit up with a mix of excitement and mischief. “Would you consider a traditional Samoan tattoo, Rhea?”

Damian nodded encouragingly. “It would be a great way for you to mark this new chapter in your life. It’s a powerful form of self-expression.”

Jon added, “Our tattoo artist is at our dad’s house right now. With one call, he could be here in an hour.”

Rhea’s face brightened at the thought. “That sounds fantastic! I’d really love that.”

Jey, who had been quietly observing, suddenly interrupted with a firm, “No, no, no…”

Rhea looked at him, confused. “What do you mean, no?”

Jey’s gaze faltered, struggling to find the right words. His mind was racing with emotions he hadn’t fully expressed. The reason for his hesitation was more profound than he had initially let on. He wanted to get matching traditional Samoan wedding tattoos with Rhea. It wasn’t just about getting inked; it was about symbolizing their commitment to each other in a way that was deeply meaningful.

Jey’s voice softened, laden with emotion. “It’s not the right time for that. I don’t want you to rush into something like this.”

Rhea, sensing there was more to Jey’s reluctance, nodded and excused herself to the bathroom, leaving Jey, Jon, and Damian alone in the patio.

As soon as Rhea was out of sight, Jey turned to Jon with a troubled expression. “Don’t tempt her like that,” he said quietly but firmly.

Damian, picking up on Jey’s distress, asked, “What’s going on?”

Jey took a deep breath, his face reflecting a mix of vulnerability and determination. “I want to marry Rhea,” he confessed, his voice cracking slightly. “I’ve been thinking about it for a long time. I finally talked to the attorney today and he started on my divorce. I was hoping to get matching traditional Samoan wedding tattoos with her. It’s something that’s deeply meaningful to me. It’s not just about a tattoo; it’s about marking our commitment, our future together in a way that honors our heritage.”

Jon’s expression shifted to one of understanding. “So, it’s not just about the tattoo. You want it to be a part of a bigger commitment.”

Jey nodded, his eyes earnest. “Exactly. I want it to be special, something that signifies our journey together and our promise to each other. I didn’t want her to rush into a tattoo without understanding how important this is to me. I want it to be something we do together, when we’re both ready for it.”

Damian’s eyes softened, touched by Jey’s heartfelt confession. “Jey, that’s incredibly meaningful. It’s clear you’re thinking about this with a lot of love and respect.”

Jon clapped Jey on the shoulder. “You’re right. It should be something truly special. You should talk to her when you’re ready. She’ll understand.”

The moment she excused herself from the patio, Rhea’s excitement about Damian’s surprise was tinged with an underlying tension. As she walked towards the bathroom, she felt a familiar pull toward the bedroom. The pain in her abdomen had been nagging at her, and the stress of everything lately was becoming overwhelming.

Once inside the bedroom, she made her way to the dresser where she kept her pain pills. She had been taking them more frequently lately, savoring the temporary relief they brought. The escape they provided was becoming a comfort, and she was starting to crave that sensation more and more.

Rhea grabbed the small bottle of pills as she thought of a very awful idea. As she shook out a few tablets, she felt a pang of guilt for needing them so badly, but the allure of the numbness was too strong to resist. She looked around the room, searching for something to help her crush the pills into a fine powder. Her eyes landed on a small glass vase with fake flowers, which added a touch of charm to the room.

The vase seemed perfect for the task. She picked it up, feeling its cool, smooth surface in her hand. With a determined expression, she used the vase to crush the pills into powder. Each motion of the vase against the pills made her heart race with anticipation. The process was oddly satisfying, almost ritualistic. Once the pills were reduced to a fine powder, she wiped the bottom with her hand and she placed the vase back on the shelf, trying to fix it to it's right place.

Her hands trembled slightly as she prepared to snort the powdered pills. She knew it wasn’t the safest method, but the instant relief was too tempting. She pulled out her wallet from dresser drawer and pulled a debit card out. She used it fix it into three perfect lines, she then wiped off the debit card and grabbed a crisp dollar from her wallet, she rolled it into a makeshift straw and with a quick glance around to make sure no one was watching, she did the unthinkable...

The act of snorting the powder was a jarring experience, but as the effects began to kick in, she felt a rush of relief that made the discomfort and anxiety melt away. The numbing sensation started to spread through her, dulling the sharp edges of her reality. She leaned against the wall, her mind drifting in a haze of euphoria.

For a brief moment, everything felt lighter. The weight of her worries and the strain of the day seemed to dissolve into nothingness. She allowed herself to sink into the comforting embrace of the high, feeling both liberated and trapped in the same breath. She knew she was slipping further into a dangerous habit, but for now, she couldn’t bring herself to care. She quickly wiped her nose off and checked herself in the mirror, she wiped off the remaining residue and quickly washed her hands.

As she slowly made her way back to the patio, the world around her felt distant, almost dreamlike. She plastered a smile on her face, hoping to hide the fact that she was high and not fully present. Despite the warmth of her friends and the joy of Damian’s surprise, Rhea couldn’t shake the gnawing feeling that she was losing control, even as the pills provided her a fleeting sense of euphoria.

A few hours earlier, Jon sat quietly in the lobby area of Brentley and Barnum Law Firm, tapping his foot nervously against the polished floor. He glanced around at the modern decor—tasteful, minimalist, designed to put clients at ease. But Jon wasn’t at ease. He hated this waiting game simply because he could only look at tiktok for so long.

Inside the sleek office, Jey sat across from Julian, the lawyer WWE had hired for him. Julian was calm, professional, and had an air of confidence that came with years of navigating high-stakes legal battles. After discussing Matt’s arrest and the legal implications for Rhea and Jey, Julian finally leaned back in his chair and gave the update Jey had been waiting for.

“You and Rhea can leave Orlando on Sunday,” Julian said. “Given the charges against Matt and his current incarceration, there’s no legal reason for you to stay here any longer.”

Jey exhaled, feeling a small weight lift from his chest. "Good," he muttered, though the thought of Matt still being out there, even behind bars, gnawed at him. He shifted in his seat, his mind racing toward a different issue—his marriage to Takecia.

“I wanted to ask you something else,” Jey said, his voice quieter now. He met Julian’s eyes, hesitant for a moment before continuing, “Can you represent me in my divorce?”

Julian raised an eyebrow, intrigued but not surprised. “Your divorce in California?”

Jey nodded. “Yeah, San Francisco. Takecia’s already got herself a lawyer. It’s… it’s happening.”

Julian thought for a moment before responding. “I still have my license in California. That’s where I started my practice. I can absolutely represent you, Jey, but we’ll need to go over the details.”

Jey nodded again, appreciating the professionalism. He wanted this done quickly, cleanly. He didn’t want any more mess than there already was in his life. “I’m going for an uncontested divorce. We’ve already talked about it, and she’s laid out her demands.”

Julian sat up straighter, the gears in his mind turning as he considered the process. “An uncontested divorce means you both agree on all terms—no arguments, no drawn-out court battles. It’s usually the smoother option. However, you’ll still have to deal with California’s six-month waiting period before the divorce is finalized.”

“I understand,” Jey said. “I just want to be fair. For the petition, I’m agreeing to pay for our kids’ college education, we’re going to do shared custody, and Takecia keeps the house. That’s what she wants.”

Julian leaned forward, tapping his pen thoughtfully against his legal pad. “That’s a reasonable arrangement, especially if you’re both on the same page. But are you sure about giving her the house? It’s a significant asset.”

Jey nodded firmly. “Yeah. The house is where she’s raising our kids. I don’t need it.”

Julian took notes, satisfied with Jey’s clarity on the situation. “Okay. We’ll file the petition with those terms. I’ll need you to sign some documents to get things moving, and after that, we’ll let the legal process take its course. You’re looking at about six months before it’s finalized, as I mentioned.”

Jey rubbed the back of his neck, feeling a strange mixture of relief and sadness. Six months. Six months of waiting, of knowing his marriage was ending, of officially closing that chapter of his life. A part of him felt guilt for how it had all unraveled, but another part of him felt an overwhelming sense of inevitability. His heart hadn’t been with Takecia for a long time, not since he met Rhea. This was just the final step in a process that had begun months ago.

Julian glanced over the papers, then looked back at Jey. “If you’re sure this is what you want, I’ll handle it. You’ll be free to move on with your life once everything’s finalized.”

Jey swallowed hard, nodding. “Yeah. I’m sure. Just… let’s get it done.”

The lawyer nodded, wrapping up the conversation as they stood to shake hands. Jey left Julian’s office feeling like he was walking toward a new beginning but also carrying the weight of his past. As he walked back into the lobby, Jon looked up from his seat, his expression a blend of curiosity and concern.

“How’d it go?” Jon asked, standing up to meet him.

Jey sighed, running a hand through his hair. “It’s happening. The divorce is going through. Six months, and it’s over.”

Jon clapped his brother on the shoulder, giving him a reassuring squeeze. “It’s for the best, Uce. You deserve to be happy.”

Jey didn’t respond right away, but he nodded, the weight of the decision settling into his chest. There was no turning back now. The path forward was clearer than ever, but that didn’t make it any easier to walk.

As the evening wore on, Rhea, Damian, Jey, and Jon were all in high spirits, enjoying each other's company and the warmth of Damian’s surprise visit. The conversation flowed effortlessly as each of them each hard a topic to talk about. Suddenly, Damian’s phone rang, breaking into their lively discussion.

“Excuse me for a moment,” Damian said, standing up and stepping away from the group to take the call.

Rhea watched him with a curious glance, but the conversation was muffled as Damian moved a few paces away. After a few moments, Damian’s face tightened with concern, and he responded more seriously.

“Hey, Dominik. What’s up?” Damian asked.

There was a pause as Dominik Mysterio’s voice came through the line. “Hey, Damian. I just got a call from Matt. He’s in jail and apparently looking for Rhea. Do you know anything about this?”

Damian’s heart skipped a beat at the mention of Matt. He had been hoping the situation would remain under control, but it seemed Matt’s attempts to reach out were escalating. Damian’s mind raced with the implications.

“Yeah, I know,” Damian replied, his tone heavy with apprehension. “Matt has been trying to contact Rhea. But please, don’t say anything about this to anyone else. It’s important.”

Dominik didn’t ask for further details, simply acknowledging Damian’s request. “Got it. I won’t say a word.”

Damian sighed with relief as the call ended. He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself before heading back to the group. With a determined look, he pulled out his phone and quickly sent a message to Paul Levesque, their boss.

Damian: Matt is going around calling other wrestlers, trying to reach Rhea. We need to handle this immediately.

Paul’s response came almost instantly.

Paul: I’ll take care of it. Thanks for the heads-up.

Damian put his phone away, a grim expression on his face as he rejoined the group. He forced a smile, trying to mask his concern, but the weight of Matt’s actions was clearly on his mind.

Jey noticed the shift in Damian’s demeanor and leaned in, concern evident. “Everything okay, Damian?”

Damian nodded, though his eyes betrayed his worry. “Yeah, just… had to deal with something. But we’re good for now. Let’s focus on enjoying the evening.”

The group resumed their conversation, but the shadow of Matt’s threat loomed over them, a reminder that not everything was as carefree as it seemed. Rhea, still feeling the effects of her earlier actions, was more focused on the present moment, trying to savor the time with her friends and momentarily push aside her anxieties.

As the night wore on, the clock struck 1 a.m., and Jon, heavily buzzed from the evening's festivities, excused himself, stumbling slightly as he made his way toward the guest room. He was ready for bed and couldn’t help but chuckle at Jey’s parting joke about needing lotion since Trinity was out of town.

“Shut up, Uce,” Jon said with a grin, flipping Jey off.

Damian, who had been enjoying the playful banter, chimed in with a smirk. “I guess I’m stuck with the couple tonight then.”

Jey grinned. “Uce, I love you, but Damian, you going on my nephew’s bed. Sorry, man.”

Rhea, still buzzing from the earlier excitement but feeling the weight of her own issues, laughed at the banter. As they all moved back inside, they gathered the pets, ushering them into the house with them. The house was now a cozy chaos of people and animals, but there was an underlying sense of warmth and camaraderie.

Jey showed Damian to the kid’s bedroom, a cheerful room full of toys and colorful decor. “Goodnight, Damian. If you need the bathroom, it’s just down the hall.”

Damian thanked him and bid goodnight to Rhea, who gave him a heartfelt hug. “Goodnight, Rhea. Sleep well.”

As Rhea and Jey headed to their own room, Jey couldn’t help but notice Rhea’s sluggish, almost detached manner. It was concerning, especially since she hadn’t had much to drink that evening. He tried to catch her eye, but she was already pulling her shirt over her body, revealing just her bra. For the first time, Jey’s attention was drawn to the bandage covering her abdomen, a reminder of the recent trauma she had endured.

Rhea noticed Jey’s gaze lingering on her bandage and, with a hint of defensiveness, asked, “What, don’t you want to fuck me anymore?”

Jey’s face fell, taken aback by the bluntness of her comment. It was completely out of character for her, and he could see the hurt and confusion in her eyes. He struggled to find the right words, feeling the weight of everything that had happened recently.

“It’s not that,” Jey said softly. “It’s just… with everything that’s been going on, I’m worried about you. I didn’t mean to make you feel… less.”

Rhea rolled her eyes, clearly frustrated. “I’m not a damn glass doll, Jey. I’m fine.”

Jey’s confusion deepened. They had just enjoyed a great night with friends, and now she was acting as if everything was falling apart. He could see the hurt in her eyes, the pain masked by her attempts to appear strong.

Rhea, with a sigh, put her shirt back on and climbed into bed, her back turned to Jey. The room fell into a heavy silence, the air thick with unspoken words and unresolved emotions. Jey lay beside her, his mind racing as he tried to understand the sudden shift in her mood. The night had started with laughter and companionship, but now it was tinged with a sense of melancholy and confusion.

As Rhea lay still, facing away from him, Jey reached out, hesitating for a moment before placing a hand gently on her shoulder. “Rhea,” he said softly, “talk to me. What’s going on?”

But Rhea remained silent, the only response the subtle rise and fall of her shoulders as she breathed. The weight of the night’s events pressed down on both of them, leaving them in a tangled web of emotions that neither knew how to unravel.

Jey’s frustration grew as he faced Rhea’s silence. Despite his repeated pleas to talk, she remained resolutely turned away. He took a deep breath, trying to calm the storm of emotions raging inside him. It wasn’t right, he knew that. He felt a pang of guilt, but his concern for her overshadowed his reservations.

He gently pulled her back toward him, his touch tender. For a moment, Rhea’s face lit up with the familiar, radiant smile that he loved so much. It was a small, fleeting comfort in the midst of their turmoil.

“What do you want daddy to do to you?” he asked softly, trying to keep his tone light despite the heaviness in his heart.

Rhea’s eyes, clouded and distant, barely focused on him. Her voice was a sluggish, almost inaudible slur. “Everything…”

The word hung in the air, and Jey felt a knot tighten in his stomach. The haze in her eyes and the way she spoke made him uneasy. This wasn’t the Rhea he knew. She was slipping into a state he didn’t fully understand, and it troubled him deeply.

He leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to her lips, his voice barely a whisper. “Soon,” he said, hoping to provide some comfort despite his own confusion and worry.

Rhea’s smile faded, and she rolled back onto her side, clearly irritated by his response. The warmth between them evaporated, leaving only a cold silence in its wake. Jey watched her, feeling a pang of helplessness. He had wanted to reach out to her, to fix what was wrong, but instead, it seemed he only managed to deepen the rift.

As Rhea settled back into bed, facing away from him, the room grew heavy with unspoken emotions. Jey lay there, staring at the ceiling, the weight of the night pressing down on him. He knew that Rhea was struggling, but he felt powerless to help her in the way she needed. His heart ached as he grappled with the complexity of her pain and his own sense of inadequacy.

The silence stretched on, filled with the quiet hum of the house and the distant sound of the pets moving about. Jey remained awake, his mind racing with worries and regrets, while Rhea’s shallow, uneven breaths filled the quiet room. The distance between them seemed insurmountable, and he wondered how they could bridge the gap that had grown so suddenly between them.

As the night wore on, the darkness outside mirrored the uncertainty within, and Jey was left alone with his thoughts, yearning for a solution he couldn’t yet grasp.

Rhea woke up with a pounding headache, her mind foggy from the previous night’s haze. The dim light filtering through the curtains only added to her discomfort. As she groaned and tried to sit up, the realization of not having showered before going to bed hit her. She glanced at Jey, who was still sleeping soundly beside her, his soft snoring a faint reminder of the comfort she had once felt.

She slipped out of bed, careful not to wake him. With a groggy sense of urgency, she undressed and headed towards the bathroom, not fully processing her surroundings. Her foggy state of mind led her to forget that this was not their home and that Jon, Damian, and Jey were all in the house.

Turning on the shower, Rhea stepped under the hot water, letting it cascade over her and ease the tension in her muscles. The steam enveloped her, and she let out a sigh of relief as the heat worked its magic on her aching head. The shower was a sanctuary, a brief escape from the confusion and discomfort of the previous night.

After a few minutes, Rhea turned off the water, wrapped a towel around her body, and walked back towards the bedroom. The house was quiet, save for the occasional shuffle of the pets in the other rooms. As she reentered the room, she saw that Jey had woken up.

He looked at her with a mixture of confusion and concern. The sight of her in a towel, freshly showered and smiling, seemed out of place considering the mood from the night before. She approached him with a warm, somewhat uncertain smile and leaned in to give him a kiss on the cheek.

Jey’s confusion deepened. “Morning, Rhea,” he said, his voice groggy. “You feeling okay?”

Rhea nodded, though she couldn’t fully remember the details of last night. “Yeah, I’m just… trying to shake off this headache. I forgot to shower and just needed to freshen up.”

Jey sat up, rubbing his eyes and trying to piece together the previous night. He was still processing the sudden shift in her mood and the oddity of her early morning actions. “You’re not making much sense, Rhea. Last night—”

“I know,” she interrupted, her voice soft but determined. “I’m sorry. I don’t remember much, but I’m trying to make things right. I just wanted to start the day fresh.”

Jey took a deep breath, sensing that there was more beneath the surface of her cheerful facade. He reached out and took her hand gently. “Rhea, if something’s wrong, we need to talk about it. You can’t keep pushing it away.”

Rhea smiled weakly and squeezed his hand. “Let’s enjoy the morning and figure things out as we go.”

Jey hesitated but nodded, sensing that pushing further might only cause more strain. He watched as Rhea got dressed and moved around the room, a sense of unease still lingering between them. He wanted to understand what was going on, but for now, he decided to give her the space she seemed to need.

As Rhea prepared for the day, Jey remained thoughtful, the unease in his heart growing. He knew they needed to address the issues between them, but for now, he could only hope that the day would bring clarity and healing for both of them.

Rhea sat at the vanity, her movements deliberate as she applied her makeup. Her excitement about picking up her new iPhone was like it of a kid in a candy store, a small but significant joy in the midst of everything she had been dealing with. Jey, meanwhile, was styling his hair, focused on making sure he looked presentable for their outing.

“We’re finally getting out of the house,” Rhea said with a smile, her eyes brightening at the thought of the simple trip to the Verizon store.

Jey looked at her through the mirror, a hint of a smile on his lips. “Yeah, it’s about time. I know it’s not much, but it’s a step in the right direction.” Given last night’s tension, he figured he would give in to Rhea and finally take her out.

Damian and Jon had left earlier to explore the city. Damian, eager to see more of Florida, was taking full advantage of the opportunity to explore, as he had only been to the state a few times before. Rhea and Jey were left to themselves, and Jey decided to seize the moment for a quick errand.

Both of them were dressed in all black, a conscious decision by Rhea to cover up and maintain some semblance of privacy. It was a change compared to the usual vibrant colors Jey might wear, but it provided a sense of security and anonymity they craved.

As they left the house and made their way to the Verizon store, Rhea couldn’t help but feel a sense of liberation. The prospect of a new phone and a brief change of scenery was exhilarating, and she welcomed the distraction from the recent turmoil in her life.

When they arrived at the Verizon store, they checked in with the manager to ensure their privacy. To their relief, the store was quiet, with only two elderly women browsing through accessories. The tranquility of the store provided a welcoming to the chaos that had marked their recent days.

The manager greeted them with a friendly smile and guided them to the counter where Rhea’s iPhone was waiting. As Jey and Rhea approached, the manager quickly retrieved the phone from the back and handed it to Rhea with a flourish.

“There you go,” the manager said. “Your iPhone 16 Pro Max in Desert Titanium. I hope you enjoy it! The accessories and case are all here as well.”

Rhea’s eyes lit up as she took the phone, her excitement evident. “Thank you so much! I’ve been looking forward to this.”

Jey watched her with a smile, pleased to see her happiness. “Glad we could get this sorted. Now we just need to get everything set up and you’ll be all set.”

Rhea nodded, her smile unwavering as she admired her new phone. The brief outing had already started to lift her spirits, and she was eager to go somewhere else and Jey knew just the right spot.

As Jey and Rhea left the Verizon store and got into Jon's car, Jey turned to Rhea with a warm smile. “How about we go watch the ocean?” he suggested.

Rhea’s face lit up instantly, her eyes sparkling with excitement. Without hesitation, she leaned in and kissed him gently. “I am so in love with you,” she whispered, her eyes brimming with affection.

Jey’s heart swelled at her words. He started the car and began driving towards Titusville, FL, a serene spot just 46 minutes away. As they drove, Rhea reached out and placed her hand on his. Understanding the gesture, Jey gently took her hand in his, intertwining their fingers. The simple touch brought a deep sense of comfort to both of them.

The drive was soothing, with Rhea feeling an unprecedented sense of calm and peace. The rhythmic hum of the car, coupled with the soft music playing through the speakers, added to her tranquility.

Jey's music filled the car, and Rhea found herself smiling as the melodies wrapped around them. “Oh, this is it right here, babe, just for you,” Jey said, his voice carrying a hint of playfulness as he turned up the volume. The familiar beat of "Let Me Hold You" by Bow Wow and Omarion began to play, setting a romantic mood.

As the chorus approached, Jey started singing along..

In my arms in my mind all the time I wanna Keep you right by my side 'til I die I'm gonna Hold you down and make sure everything is right with you You can never go wrong if you let me hold you

His voice steady and full of love as he kept his eyes focused on the road. His singing was a perfect mix of heartfelt and playful, creating a warm atmosphere inside the car.

Rhea couldn’t help but join in, her voice blending with his. Together, they sang along to the song, their voices harmonizing effortlessly. The moment was pure and joyful, a relief to the complications of their recent days.

Down like a real friend's supposed to I'm trying to show you The life of somebody like you should be living Ohhhhh, baby baby You could never go wrong if you let me hold you

The shared experience of singing along to their song, coupled with the comforting rhythm of the drive, made Rhea feel deeply connected to Jey. As the song played on, their hands remained clasped, and their smiles grew wider, their love for each other shining brightly in the soft light of the car.

The ocean was still some miles away, but in that moment, the journey felt like a celebration of their love and a brief escape from the troubles they had faced.

Jey and Rhea finally arrived in Titusville, FL, and Jey headed straight to his favorite spot, the Moonlight Drive Inn. The familiar neon sign and the comforting scent of burgers and fries greeted them.

“Do you want to come inside and check out the menu?” Jey asked, his eyes twinkling with anticipation.

Rhea shook her head with a smile. “Just get what you usually get. And add a lemonade for me, please.”

Jey nodded and went inside to place their order. He knew exactly what to get: the mouth-watering bacon double cheeseburger and sweet potato waffle fries. After a brief wait, the cashier called out his number, and Jey collected their food and drinks.

Returning to the car, Jey carefully placed the bags on the floor and made a quick 3-minute drive to the beach. They reached a secluded spot that Jey knew well, perfect for a quiet, intimate meal.

He parked the car and pulled out the two trays from underneath Jon’s car seat. After giving them a quick wipe to ensure they were clean, he retrieved the bags of food. With a gentle smile, he handed one of the bags to Rhea.

“What did you get me?” she asked, her curiosity piqued.

Jey opened the bag and revealed its contents. “A bacon double cheeseburger and sweet potato waffle fries. And I also grabbed some fried pickles and fried mushrooms for us to share.”

Rhea’s eyes lit up with delight. “You’re the best,” she said, taking the bag from him.

They settled into their seats, the car providing a cozy refuge from the gentle breeze outside. Rhea eagerly unwrapped her burger and took a big bite. Her eyes closed in pleasure as she savored the taste.

“Oh my god,” she moaned, her voice full of satisfaction. “That’s a good fucking burger.”

Jey chuckled, watching her enjoy the food. He took a bite of his own burger, nodding in agreement. “Told you it was worth it.”

As they ate, the car was filled with the soft sounds of their enjoyment and the rhythmic crashing of the waves in the distance. The simplicity of the meal and the serene setting made the moment feel special, a perfect break from the recent chaos in their lives.

After finishing their meal and taking in the serene view of the ocean, Jey and Rhea found themselves enveloped in a cocoon of intimacy within the car. The rhythmic sound of waves crashing against the shore provided a soothing soundtrack as they inched closer, their eyes reflecting the soft glow of the fading sun.

Their kisses started gently, a tender exploration of each other's lips. Each touch was careful and deliberate, as if they were savoring the newfound closeness. Jey’s hands slid to Rhea’s face, his fingers tracing delicate lines along her jaw, his thumb brushing softly against her cheek. Rhea responded with equal devotion, her hands weaving through his hair, pulling him closer, their breaths mingling in the small space of the car.

The passion between them deepened with every kiss, growing more fervent and urgent. Their bodies pressed together, creating a tangible warmth that seemed to ignite the air around them. Jey’s lips moved over Rhea’s with a mix of tenderness and intensity, each kiss conveying a thousand unspoken words of love and desire.

Rhea’s response was just as fervent; she clung to him, her fingers roaming over his back and shoulders, her lips dancing against his with an eagerness that mirrored his own. The world outside their car became a distant blur, leaving them in a cocoon of shared passion and connection. Their kisses were an eloquent expression of the deep bond they felt, each touch and caress a testament to their profound intimacy.

Just as the moment reached its peak, the car’s voice interrupted, announcing a call from Jon.

The car's voice came through, “You've got a call from Twin. Do you want to answer or reject?"

Jey sighed, a bit annoyed at the interruption. “Yes, Jonathan, what do you want?” he answered, trying to mask his frustration.

Jon’s voice crackled through the speaker, carrying a hint of impatience. “Any chance Bonnie and Clyde are joining us for dinner? Me and my lovely wife, who just got in and is a bit cranky, and the bisexual undertaker have booked a reservation for a private dinner.”

Jey couldn’t help but chuckle at Jon’s description. “You’re really laying it on thick, huh? I guess we’ll join you.”

Rhea, overhearing the conversation, nodded in agreement. “Yeah, let’s go. I’m up for it.”

Jey relayed the message to Jon, who confirmed that the reservation was for 9 PM. He then hung up, leaving Jey and Rhea to realize that it was already 6 PM.

After ending the call, Jey looked at Rhea, who was still catching her breath, her cheeks flushed from their passionate encounter. “We’ve got a bit of time before dinner,” Jey said with a playful grin.

Rhea, her smile still lingering from their intimate exchange, shook her head with a soft laugh. “I can’t believe we’ve been lost in each other for almost an hour.”

Jey’s eyes sparkled with affection as he teased her. “You’ve got lungs of steel, you know that?”

Rhea rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide her smile. “You’re impossible,” she said, nudging him playfully. The warmth between them was caring, their earlier connection translating into a shared laughter that only deepened their bond.

As they drove back, their hands intertwined, they were both content and at peace. The romance of their moments together had created a beautiful memory, and the anticipation of spending time with Jon, Trinity, and Damian only added to the joy of their evening. They knew that the night ahead would be a cherished continuation of their special connection, filled with moments of warmth, laughter, and love.

—

Rhea stood in front of the open closet, arms crossed, biting her lip as she scanned through Trinity's collection of dresses. The closet was bursting with color — vibrant yellows, deep reds, pastel blues — a more girly change to her own darker wardrobe back home. She tugged at one dress, a flowy floral number, and held it up with a look of mild frustration.

"Why does Trinity have nothing but color?" she muttered, shaking her head as she looked through another handful of dresses.

Jey, stretched out on the bed with his phone in hand, glanced over at her, amused. "Not everyone is as dark as you," he teased, the corners of his lips lifting into a smirk. "But come here for a sec."

Rhea sighed, setting the dress back on its hanger and making her way over to Jey's side, her brows furrowing as she noticed the Zillow app open on his screen. "What is it? Pensacola?" she asked, eyeing the house listing he was showing her.

Jey nodded, sliding the phone into her hand. "Yeah. Trinity and Jon are gonna sell this house. They wanna’ move back to Pensacola."

Rhea blinked, surprised. "Seriously? I thought they loved it here."

"They do," Jey said, sitting up and leaning closer to her. "But Jon’s missing home, and you know how it is with the family. Trinity’s down for it, too. Says she wants to be closer to everyone." He paused for a moment, reading the skepticism on her face. "It's just a rental for now, though. Nothing permanent."

Rhea glanced back at the listing as Jey swiped down showing her the photos of the property, still unsure. She liked the idea of being closer to the family, but a sudden move like this felt...unsettling. Especially after everything that had happened recently. "I don’t know, Jey... I mean, it's been crazy lately. Now moving?"

He slid his arm around her waist and pulled her closer, kissing her temple. "Babe, it's gonna be alright. Plus, my dad's putting the house in Titusville on Airbnb. He’s moving back to Pensacola, too. Everyone's gonna be around. It’ll be good, trust me."

She looked down at the phone in her hand, then back at Jey, the warmth of his arm around her easing her nerves just a bit. "Yeah, I guess... it could be good. I just don’t want any more surprises, you know?"

Jey smiled, brushing a stray strand of her hair behind her ear. "No more surprises. Just family, okay? We'll figure everything out."

Rhea leaned into him, feeling a small sense of calm as she rested her head on his shoulder. "Alright... I'll trust you. But I still gotta figure out what to wear for this dinner," she added, her voice lightening as she gestured to the colorful closet with a faint chuckle.

Jey grinned, tapping the screen of his phone again. "Well, at least I don’t have to worry about that. I already know what I’m wearing."

Rhea rolled her eyes, playfully shoving him. "Of course you do. Lucky you."

After what felt like an eternity of sifting through endless colorful options, Rhea finally settled on something that felt more like her. She tugged a little black lace dress from the back of the closet — sleek, fitted, and unapologetically bold. As soon as she slid it on, she knew it was the one. The way it hugged her curves made her feel confident, even if it was a bit tighter than she wanted. She twisted around in front of the mirror, admiring the way the lace glistened under the light, but there was one problem — the back was too tight.

Rhea huffed in frustration, tugging at the zipper, but it wouldn’t budge. Defeated, she slipped out of the room and into the bedroom where Jey was still lounging, focused on his phone.

"Jey, can you help me?" she asked, trying to sound casual, but there was a hint of irritation in her voice.

Jey didn’t look up at first, too absorbed in scrolling through his Zillow listings, but the moment he glanced over at her, his jaw nearly dropped. He blinked, slowly lowering the phone as he took in the sight of her in that dress. The tight black lace clung to her in all the right places, and the subtle sheen gave her an almost dangerous allure. He’d seen Rhea look amazing before, but this? This was next level.

“Damn, babe,” Jey muttered, his voice low, clearly blown away. “You look… insane.”

Rhea gave him a smirk, feeling her confidence swell even more at his reaction. "Yeah? Well, you can admire me after you fix this." She turned her back to him, pulling her hair to the side to reveal the too-tight zipper.

Jey got up quickly, still a bit speechless as he moved behind her. His fingers brushed her skin as he carefully loosened the zipper, his eyes never leaving her reflection in the mirror. "You seriously look amazing," he said quietly, his hands lingering for a moment longer than needed as he adjusted the back of the dress.

Rhea caught his gaze in the mirror and smiled, biting her lip. "Glad you like it," she teased. "Now focus, I need to be able to breathe at dinner."

Jey chuckled, finally loosening the zipper just enough to give her some room, he used the buttons inside the dress to fill the gap from the zipper and he couldn’t help himself from letting his hands rest on her waist for a moment longer. "If we weren’t going to dinner with Jon and Trinity, I’d suggest we stay in," he murmured, half-joking, half-serious.

Rhea turned around, playfully swatting his chest. "Nice try. We’re going, and you’re gonna sit across from me and pretend like you’re not thinking about this dress all night."

Jey grinned, pulling her closer for a quick kiss. "Deal. But just know, I’ll be thinking about it."

Jey finally slipped into his outfit, looking sharp and relaxed in his black button-up shirt and fitted jeans. He adjusted his collar in the mirror while Rhea fussed with her makeup, adding the final touches to her look. Once satisfied, he stepped back, nodding to himself. "Alright, I'm heading downstairs," he said, giving Rhea a quick kiss on the cheek before leaving the room.

As he made his way downstairs, he found Damian, Jon, and Trinity standing around in the living room, chatting and laughing. Trinity noticed him first, checking her phone. “It’s almost 8:30… we gotta gooooooo,” she teased, dragging out the words with a playful smirk.

Jey rolled his eyes, pulling his phone out. "Alright, alright. Let me call Rhea before y’all lose it." He reached over the stairs and called up the stairs, "Babe, we gotta roll!"

From upstairs, Rhea’s voice echoed back, "Coming!" She grabbed her new iPhone and wallet from the dresser, giving herself one last glance in the mirror. Satisfied, she took a deep breath and strutted down the stairs.

As she stepped into the living room, all conversation halted. Damian, Jon, and Trinity stared at her, their jaws slightly dropping as she descended the stairs in that little black lace dress. Jey stood there, grinning like a fool, unable to hide his pride.

Damian broke the silence with a laugh, shaking his head. “Where’s the stereo so I can play Kiss Me by Sixpence None the Richer? It’s giving She’s All That.”

Rhea stopped at the bottom of the stairs, glancing down at her outfit, suddenly feeling a little self-conscious under all the attention. "Too much?" she asked, her brows furrowed as she tugged slightly at the hem of the dress.

Immediately, they all shook their heads, a chorus of "No!" erupting from the group.

"Rhea," Trinity said, stepping forward with a smile, "you can personally have that dress because no one else could pull it off like you. Trust me, it’s perfect."

Rhea’s tense expression melted into a smile. "Thanks, Trin," she said, feeling more confident again.

Jey extended his arm out toward her, a charming grin still plastered on his face. “My beautiful girlfriend…” he said, emphasizing the words as if he wanted the whole world to know.

Rhea smiled, taking his arm and glancing at him with affection. "You're too sweet," she murmured, giving his arm a playful squeeze. They looked every bit the perfect couple, ready for a night out, and as they headed toward the door, the excitement in the air grew.

"Alright, let's get going before Trinity freaks out," Damian joked, ushering everyone out.

—

As the white Escalade eased to a stop in front of Fogo De Chão, the staccato burst of camera flashes greeted them before they could even open the doors. Jey's sharp eyes caught the swarm of media waiting just beyond the valet stand, their cameras poised like vultures. He sighed, glancing over at Damian, who was seated next to Rhea.

“Damian, take Rhea and go in first,” Jey instructed quietly, his voice low and calm despite the brewing storm of reporters. “Stay behind Jon and Trinity. We’ll keep the focus on them.”

Damian nodded without hesitation. He stepped out of the car, opening the door for Rhea, who quickly slid on her sunglasses, her face partially hidden beneath the brim of her cap. She gave Jey a brief, grateful look before stepping onto the pavement, her arm lightly brushing against Damian’s as they made their way toward the restaurant entrance. Behind them, Jon and Trinity exited the car, their frustration evident in their body language.

Trinity shot a glare toward the photographers, her lips pressed into a thin line. “I swear, they can’t leave us alone for one night,” she muttered under her breath as she adjusted her sunglasses and smoothed her jacket.

“Don’t let it get to you,” Jon said, his hand brushing hers as they walked. “Let’s just get inside.”

“The reservation’s for Fatu,” Trinity snapped, turning to the valet as she handed him the keys. Her tone was short, and her patience was clearly wearing thin.

The valet smiled politely, quickly scanning his list before offering instructions on how to retrieve the car. “Thank you, ma’am. We’ll have the car ready for you when you’re done.”

Trinity barely acknowledged him as she ushered the group toward the entrance, eager to escape the blinding flashes of light and murmured questions from the reporters. As they passed through the glass doors, the cool, quiet interior of Fogo De Chão was a walk in the park compared to the chaos outside. The familiar scent of roasting meats greeted them, the atmosphere inside serene and calm compared to the frenzy they had just left behind.

The restaurant’s manager, a tall man with salt-and-pepper hair and a kind smile, immediately approached them, his eyes filled with concern. “Mr. and Mrs. Fatu I’m so sorry about the media. We didn’t expect this tonight.”

“It’s fine,” Jon said, though his tone suggested it wasn’t fine at all. “Just make sure we don’t have to deal with them while we’re in here.”

“Of course,” the manager assured him, nodding quickly. “I’ve already arranged for a private room in the back. I’ll have the waitress take you there right away.”

A server appeared, her smile welcoming as she gestured for them to follow her. The group made their way through the main dining area, the lively chatter of diners and the sound of clinking glasses surrounding them, though it all felt distant, like a world apart. Rhea kept her head low as they walked, her body language still tense from the encounter with the press. Damian, always protective, remained close to her side, his presence offering silent support.

They were led into a dimly lit private room at the back of the restaurant, a secluded space with large windows that overlooked a quiet garden, the soft glow of candlelight giving the room an intimate feel. It was exactly what they needed—privacy, away from prying eyes.

As everyone took their seats around the large, round table, a heavy silence settled over them. Rhea removed her sunglasses, placing them down on the table beside her phone. She glanced at Jey, who sat across from her, their eyes meeting briefly. The last few months had been an emotional rollercoaster, and though the noise outside had momentarily quieted, the weight of everything they’d been through was still there, lingering between them like unspoken words.

Trinity sighed as she settled into her chair, her fingers tapping restlessly against the edge of the table. “Can’t even go out for dinner without them showing up,” she muttered, more to herself than anyone else. “I’m so tired of it.”

Jon placed a comforting hand on her arm, leaning in slightly. “Let’s just focus on tonight. We’re here, we’re safe, and we’ve got the best food in town coming our way.”

“Yeah,” Damian chimed in, flashing a small smile at Rhea, who sat next to him. “Let’s make the most of it. We’ve earned a little peace after everything.”

Rhea nodded slowly, but her mind was still far away, her thoughts drifting back to the whirlwind of events—Jey, the affair, the pregnancy, and the heartbreaking loss that still ached deep in her chest. She glanced down at her hands, her fingers absentmindedly fidgeting with the edge of the napkin in front of her. Damian, ever the observant friend, reached over and gave her hand a gentle squeeze. His silent reassurance grounded her, pulling her back into the present.

The server returned with menus, placing them down on the table as she took their drink orders. As the room began to settle, the tension slowly ebbed away, the dim lighting and quiet atmosphere offering them a momentary reprieve from the chaos outside.

“Let’s make a toast,” Jon said suddenly, lifting his glass of water as he waited for the others to join him. “To getting through this mess. To family, to friends… and to better days ahead.”

Everyone raised their glasses in silent agreement. Rhea managed a small smile, glancing around the table at the people who had become her anchor in the storm. For now, in this quiet room with the people who mattered most, she could try to let go of the weight pressing down on her, if only for a little while.

Rhea excused herself from the table, her stomach churning for more reasons than just the food. She could feel the weight of the pill bottle in her purse, calling to her. As everyone was almost done eating, she seized the moment, muttering something about needing to freshen up. Slipping away from the table, she glanced back to see if anyone noticed, but they were still engaged in conversation.

Jey, on the other hand, had been watching her more closely than she realized. He quickly finished his lamb chops, excusing himself in a hurry. As he stood up, Jon couldn’t resist the opportunity.

“You need a condom, Uce?” Jon teased, a smirk spreading across his face. The comment hit like a thunderclap.

Damian and Trinity erupted into laughter, their voices cutting through the low hum of the restaurant. Jey didn’t even bother to respond verbally, flipping them off instead as he made his way toward the bathroom. His heart raced, not entirely sure why, but something felt off with Rhea tonight.

He saw her slip into the family bathroom, the door barely shutting behind her. He hesitated only for a moment before following her. Quietly, he turned the handle and stepped inside, careful not to startle her. But she already seemed on edge, her hand darting out of her purse the second he entered.

Rhea froze, her breath catching in her throat, her eyes wide as she looked at him. She stood by the sink, inches away from pulling out the pill bottle she thought she so desperately needed.

“What are you doing in here?” she asked, her voice shaky, the question more of a defense mechanism than anything else. Fear flickered in her eyes—she wasn't ready for this conversation.

Jey stepped closer, his eyes locking with hers. He could tell something was wrong. Something deeper than just sneaking away for a break. Jey leaned against the sink, his eyes soft but full of concern. He broke the silence gently. “Babe… I hear them.”

Rhea froze, her breath catching in her throat. She didn’t dare look up as she felt the weight of his words settle between them. “What do you mean?” she asked, feigning innocence, her fingers brushing against the edge of her purse again.

Jey’s expression didn’t change as he referenced the pills. “The bottle. I hear it every time you move.” His voice was calm, but there was a sharp edge of worry underneath. “Are you in that much pain?”

Rhea forced herself to meet his gaze, and without thinking, she lied. “It’s… It’s just the pain, Jey. The cramps. They’ve been killing me. I needed something.”

Jey’s face hardened just a little, and his tone dropped. “Nah, Demi… I saw the bottle. The ‘as needed’ pills? They’re gone.” He shook his head slightly, disappointment creeping in. “You haven’t even touched the antibiotics for the infection. The Oxycodone… that’s the only thing you’ve been taking.”

Rhea winced. He never called her by her real name unless things were serious—really serious. The guilt began to gnaw at her, but she forced herself to hold his gaze.

“Joshua, it’s the cramps… they hurt me…” She lied again, the words bitter as they left her lips. She could feel the gap between them widening with each untruth.

Jey didn’t push further, but the weight of his disappointment was clear. He sighed, stepping closer to her, his fingers tracing her cheek before he leaned in and kissed her softly. It wasn’t like his usual kisses—this one was filled with a deep sadness and vulnerability. When he pulled back, he looked into her eyes, and for the first time, his walls came down.

“Demi, I love you,” he began, his voice thick with emotion. “I love you more than anything. I’d do anything for you, you know that. I’m sorry I wasn’t there to protect you from Matt, but moving forward, I want us to start fresh.” His hand found hers, squeezing it gently. “I already started the process to divorce Takecia.”

Rhea blinked, shocked by the admission. She hadn’t expected him to take that step so soon, and hearing him say it made her heart race.

“I’ll help you divorce Matt too,” Jey continued. “We can be free of all this. I wouldn’t be here, buying you a new phone or planning a life together, if I didn’t mean it. Fuck… Dem I wouldn’t be here if I thought you was a ho’. I’m all in, Demi. I love you. I want a future with you.”

Rhea’s eyes filled with tears, the sincerity in his voice cutting through every defense she had built up. He was right—he wouldn’t be doing any of this if he wasn’t serious. He was all in.

For the first time in what felt like forever, Rhea made a strong choice. She reached into her purse, pulled out the pill bottle, and handed it to Jey without saying a word. Her hand trembled as she let go, but the moment felt powerful—like reclaiming a piece of herself she was about lose.

Jey looked at the bottle, his expression softening. Without hesitation, he walked over to the trash can and dumped the pills, letting them fall away with a quiet clatter. He didn’t say anything, but the gesture spoke volumes.

When he turned back to her, his eyes were filled with a mix of love and relief. He walked back over, cupping her face in his hands. “I’m all in if you are, Demi.”

Rhea nodded, tears spilling down her cheeks as she whispered, “I’m in, Joshua. I’m all in.”

They stood there in the quiet of the bathroom, wrapped in each other’s arms, as the weight of their situation slowly lifted. For the first time, love wasn’t just something they said to each other—it was the choice they made. Together.

—

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britcision · 2 days

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Technically it’s not Wednesday anymore and technically I should only be writing the next chapter, not several chapters down the line, but Jazz grabbed me by the throat so y’all get a rough draft on something that’s gonna be like, 2-3 chapters away 👀

Maybe 👀

Enjoy!

———————

Dan’s lips curled into an unpleasant snarl, pointed fangs suddenly more prominent.

“Oh, really, Danny. Did you think this was going to work? Some stupid illusion and I’d fall to my knees, sobbing for reconcilliation? Or did you bring me the real thing so you could watch me kill her in front of you this time? It might not stick but I’m sure I can try.”

Part of Danny nearly lunged forward, Obsession throbbing down to his core… but he held it in check. After all, this wasn’t the Jazz Dan had known; she wasn’t just a teenager anymore.

And she certainly wasn’t impressed.

“Daniel James Fenton, you know better than to talk about someone when they’re standing right in front of you,” she snapped, her hip cocked out and arms folded in an entirely done big-sister posture that only got scarier with age. “If you have something to say, say it to my face.”

And Dan… froze, for a moment. And Danny knew he’d been right in that second, that microsecond of hesitation. Of inactivity.

Sure, Jazz might be well past six feet tall herself now, but she looked like their mom enough to make his Vlad severely uncomfortable. More than that though… Danny had never gotten over the thought of her dying. Dan had broken the world about it.

And he couldn’t bring himself to look her in the eye.

It was covered up a moment later, in bluff and bluster as he scoffed and glared in her general direction.

“What, are you going to psychoanalyze me? Tell me how sad and tragic I am too? Give me a break, I’ve got some lovely coping mechanisms,” he snapped, aura flaring in a burst of green fire.

But Jazz had never been scared of Danny’s aura, and frankly? He was the Ghost King. Dan’s was a drip in the bucket by comparison.

She marched straight up to him, ignoring the flames completely, and grabbed him by the chin. Forced him to face her, even as his eyes widened, face freezing.

Danny had never heard her voice so cold.

“Is that supposed to be scary? Am I supposed to be impressed, Danny? Honestly, I’d like to say that must be the Fruit Loop’s influence, but you’ve always been a drama queen.”

And then she twisted him into a headlock, all 6’9 mountain of muscle like he was still a ninety-pound twink, and noogied him.

“You’re such a fucking dork, Danny.” She sounded almost fond now, exasperated, a tone Danny was painfully familiar with. Even knowing she wasn’t talking to him-him, the cringe was automatic.

Dan sure as hell had no idea what to do about it, panic flaring madly across his face and his aura, trailed by a lacklustre attempt at anger.

“Get your hands off me,” he roared, turning intangible and going to jerk himself away… and then Jazz’s eyes flashed teal and she reached after him, her own hand changing to pull him straight back into the noogie.

Something about that broke Dan completely, his entire body suddenly limp and held up only by Jazz’s continued grip on his head. He seemed almost catatonic, completely zoned out… which Jazz completely ignored, grinding her knuckles into the top of his head.

Danny was pretty sure he knew why though; it was the one thing which had always been able to calm him down, back when he was approaching his twenties and the possibility of Dan started giving him panic attacks. Jazz had snapped him out of it in a much gentler way, but it amounted to the same reminder.

Jazz was his big sister. His beloved mentor, his voice of reason, his rock. And after living in Amity Park for almost twenty years, directly on top of the Fenton Portal, she was liminal as hell and about one near-death experience from a halfa herself.

There was just no way he was ever going to lose her, until she decided she was good and ready to move on. It wasn’t possible, and a little thing like dying wasn’t going to slow Jasmine Fenton down.

If it happened before she graduated, Danny was pretty sure she’d rise before Finals Week even if she died the night before.

(And given her self-care habits, he did occasionally worry about it actually happening… but she promised her ghost-envy days were long behind her and she’d never get that bad.

Belief: pending.)

Danny wasn’t actually fully sure if her ghost-grabbing abilities extended to anyone else or if she could just always wrangle him, but he and Dan were the same person; enough so that it sure as hell worked on him.

Dan wasn’t going down without a fight though - Danny was almost a little impressed with how quickly he fought past the blue screen (it might have been Vlad’s influence, given the sudden haughty tone) as he began to shove at her arms, quickly working up to a shout.

“Get your hands off me! Do you have any idea who I am! I am the great destroyer, breaker of worlds, and you will not treat me like a small child!” He bellowed, struggling viciously against her grip.

If they were in the real world, it’d probably have worked. If he had access to any of his ghost powers, it wasn’t a fight Jazz could possibly have won.

But this was a dream, and either Nocturn had a damn good idea what’d happen to him if anything happened to Danny’s big sister in his realm… or he just plain liked Jazz better.

(Most people did. Danny was fine with it.)

Because the more Dan struggled, the more Jazz began slowly increasing in size, getting bigger and bigger until she entirely dwarfed him and had him cuddled like a doll under her arm. Watching him struggle at this point was just a little embarrassing, actually, and Jazz finally took pity on him.

And settled him on her hip like an unruly toddler, grinning down at him.

“Now, do you think you’re ready to actually talk to me?” She asked him gently - and if she found the sight of this full sized man so relatively tiny as funny as Danny did, it didn’t even show.

Dan glowered up at her.

“You may be favoured by the fool who runs this domain, but you will never be my equal in anything but dreams,” his snarled viciously, his anger apparently stoked by indignation.

(Danny made a note. Still definitely some Vlad tendencies.)

Jazz just chuckled softly, bumping him up to give him a kiss on the forehead.

“Oh, baby brother, you know that’s never going to be how it works,” she said brightly, then paused, glancing around. “Uh… Danny, we never talk about this again, alright?” She asked, squinting down at him.

Mildly offended that he was about the height of her ankles, Danny raised both hands in immediate surrender.

“Dude, I am not letting anyone try and get freudian on me for Jumbo-Jazz. My lips are sealed from self preservation alone.” And he’d have to make sure to emphasize to Nocturn just how valuable his own silence would be. Vital to survival, even.

Apparently satisfied, Jazz nodded, sitting carefully cross legged and settling Dan in her lap, her chin on top of his head.

“So… you told me about your future once, y’know?” She said slowly, while Dan struggled and once more surrendered to the indignity. “And Danny told me some more later. And, obviously, we all actually know that taking over and destroying the entire world isn’t actually a healthy way to process grief…”

“Fucking spare me,” Dan growled, looking about a minute away from taking a bite out of her hand.

Jazz ignored him.

“But… in spite of all of that…” she paused for a moment, leaning back and smiling down at Dan, who couldn’t quite help craning back to look at her… if only to know where the next attack was coming from. “It’s… really sweet to know that you’d break the world for me, Danny. I just really wish it hadn’t broken you, too.”

And once again, Dan froze… and for the first time, Danny could feel a crack in the impenetrable wall around his core. Between all of the performative rage and theatrics and what he really, truly felt.

Even his rally only managed to produce a vaguely sulky “I’m not broken!”

Jazz sighed softly and turned him gently in her arms, lifting him to hug tightly to her chest. She might have been shrinking now, either by Nocturn’s will or her own, but she held him close anyway.

#dfdali #danny fenton dead and loving it #wip wednesday #for some future chapter #can’t make big sister think you’re cool or scary

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kikyoupdates · 1 day

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Heartbreaker ⭑˚💔⭑ 𝑝𝑟𝑜𝑙𝑜𝑔𝑢𝑒

bnha x f!reader

reverse harem, isekai, my hero academia x fem!reader, slowburn

You awaken one day with virtually no memories. The only thing guiding you is some strange system that likes to dictate your every move, and for some reason, it insists that you make certain people fall in love with you. Desperate for answers, you decide to go along with its demands. After all, how hard can it be?

story masterlist | next

When you opened your eyes, everything was dark.

There was very little that you could feel, apart from your rhythmic breathing, faint as it was. It was eerily quiet too. You weren’t sure why exactly, but you got the sense that this wasn’t how things should be. It didn’t feel natural to be all alone, no sign of life as far as your eyes could see. You couldn’t move your body even after trying for a good while, so you eventually gave up and allowed yourself to settle into the silence.

As it turned out, total silence was loud in its own way. It made your ears buzz from the ever-present nothingness; made your brain feel like it might split in half.

You didn’t know what in the hell was going on, but the longer this continued, the more likely it was that you would go insane.

Then, as if by a miracle, the silence broke.

["𝐘𝐨𝐮’𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐤𝐞."]

Someone was talking to you. Well, not really talking to you. It was strange. You couldn't hear a voice or anything like that. Instead, you could see the words pop up in front of your eyes, like some sort of weird projection. The projection made a slight ping as it popped up, but otherwise, no words were exchanged aloud.

“Hello?” you called out fearfully. Ah. So, you could talk. Your voice wasn’t lost, thankfully. It was just that you couldn’t move your body forward. Not that you’d even know where to go. Everything was pitch-black.

["𝐇𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐨. 𝐇𝐨𝐰 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠?”]

“Scared,” you admitted, swallowing hard. “I don’t know what’s going on. And I don’t... I don’t remember. Anything. I don’t remember a single thing.”

[“𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐭’𝐬 𝐨𝐤𝐚𝐲. 𝐘𝐨𝐮’𝐫𝐞 [𝐋𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐍𝐚𝐦𝐞] [𝐍𝐚𝐦𝐞]. 𝐃𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐛𝐞 𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐝. 𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐬 𝐠𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐞.”]

[Name]. Alright. You had a name too, and when you mumbled aloud just to familiarize yourself with the sound of it, you were relieved that it sounded familiar. You were a real person with a name. You had that much, at the very least.

It was too bad that everything else was a total mystery to you.

“Why am I here?” you managed to ask. “Actually... where is here?”

[“𝐈𝐭’𝐬 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐧. 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐩𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐢𝐬 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐚𝐜𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮.”]

“Who are you, then?”

[“𝐈’𝐦 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐚 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧. 𝐈’𝐦 𝐚 𝐬𝐲𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐦. 𝐀𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧, 𝐚𝐜𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲. 𝐎𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐩𝐞𝐨𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐛𝐞 𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐝𝐨. 𝐈’𝐦 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐚𝐬𝐤𝐬.”]

You felt yourself frown. “Tasks? What sort of tasks? I still don’t understand. And my head... it’s starting to hurt a lot. I’m really scared. Why don’t I remember anything?”

[“𝐋𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐈 𝐬𝐚𝐢𝐝, 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞’𝐬 𝐧𝐨 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐝. 𝐈’𝐦 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐠𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐮𝐫𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮. 𝐈’𝐦 𝐨𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞. 𝐁𝐮𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤, 𝐲𝐨𝐮’𝐥𝐥 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐨𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐦𝐞. 𝐀𝐥𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭?”]

Your head was now throbbing without abandon, but you couldn’t so much as move a hand to even press down on the points that hurt and try to ease the pain. None of this was making any sense. You hated that you didn’t remember anything, and even though this system was trying to claim that it harbored no ill-intent, it wasn’t exactly answering your questions either.

“I want to leave,” you breathed out. “Please. Let me leave. Are you the one who took my memories? If you did, I’m begging you to give them back. I’m terrified not knowing what’s going on. I don’t know how to explain this, but... it feels like a piece of me has been ripped away. I don’t even know who I am.”

The system didn't respond for a long time, and you felt as though you might drown in this sea of emptiness.

Eventually, you heard another ping.

[“𝐈 𝐝𝐢𝐝𝐧’𝐭 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬. 𝐁𝐮𝐭 𝐈 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤. 𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐝𝐨 𝐢𝐬 𝐜𝐨𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐞. 𝐈𝐭 𝐰𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐛𝐞 𝐝𝐢𝐟𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐮𝐥𝐭.”]

The more of its messages you read, the more you doubted whether this system was truly an ally.

But what else could you do? You couldn’t even move a muscle. You were absolutely helpless, so you could only bite back your tears and try to stay strong.

“Okay,” you agreed. “I just want my memories back. As long as you’re not going to make me do anything crazy... then I’m in.”

The next ping sounded more chipper, somehow. As if the system was pleased with your response.

[“𝐄𝐱𝐜𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭. 𝐈𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐜𝐚𝐬𝐞, 𝐥𝐞𝐭’𝐬 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝.”]

You didn't even manage to protest before the scene changed.

Suddenly, you could move again. It wasn’t dark or quiet anymore either. There were crowds of people all over the place. Most of them seemed to be in a hurry to get someplace; some even accidentally bumped into you as they scurried about.

Unsurprisingly, you didn’t recognize where you were, but for now, it was better than being trapped in darkness.

“Where is this?” you asked. You must’ve looked rather silly to all the bystanders, since you were talking to thin air, as far as they were concerned. But you could care less about maintaining appearances right now. What mattered was getting some goddamn answers.

[“𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐌𝐮𝐬𝐮𝐭𝐚𝐟𝐮, 𝐉𝐚𝐩𝐚𝐧. 𝐘𝐨𝐮’𝐥𝐥 𝐛𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞.”]

“Alright...”

It was strange how they said you would be living here, not that you had been living here. Yet another cryptic answer, although you shouldn’t have even been surprised at this point.

[“𝐘𝐞𝐬. 𝐘𝐨𝐮’𝐫𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐧.”]

“Okay. And... do I have a family?” you couldn’t help but ask. “Is there anyone who can help tell me what I’ve forgotten?”

The system’s next response made your heart sink.

[“𝐍𝐨. 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐝𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐚 𝐟𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐲. 𝐍𝐨𝐛𝐨𝐝𝐲 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐞𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫. 𝐈 𝐚𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐩 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬.”]

You briefly wondered if they were lying to you, but you supposed you had no real way of confirming the truth right now. This was all so frightening. You desperately wished you could remember something—anything—so that it would ease your nerves even just a little.

[“𝐃𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐲. 𝐈’𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐧𝐞𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐚𝐫𝐲 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐩𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐚 𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐢𝐧. 𝐘𝐨𝐮’𝐥𝐥 𝐛𝐞 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐞. 𝐁𝐮𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐧𝐨𝐰, 𝐢𝐭’𝐬 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐚𝐬𝐤. 𝐈𝐭 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐬𝐨 𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞’𝐬 𝐚 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐧𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐛𝐲.”]

That sure made you perk up. A person, they’d said. Whoever that person was, maybe they could help you once you told them you were struggling with a severe case of amnesia. Maybe they would know what to do, and you wouldn’t have to rely on this stupid system who just kept stringing you along without even giving you a chance to breathe.

So, you nodded.

“Alright. Tell me where I need to go.”

[“𝐓��𝐤𝐞 𝐚 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐈’𝐦 𝐠𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐩𝐮𝐥𝐥 𝐮𝐩. 𝐅𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐩 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐭’𝐥𝐥 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐞𝐱𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡 𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞. 𝐁𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐥𝐲, 𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮’𝐥𝐥 𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦.”]

Just as they’d said, the next screen that popped up provided you with a clear visual as to which way you needed to go. You followed it dutifully, somewhat nervous that you were being led into a trap. After all, maybe this system was leading you straight towards a serial killer or something. Maybe it’s true purpose was to get you murdered.

Fuck. Maybe I should reconsider. Maybe I need to go to the police first.

Except it was too late for that.

[“𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞. 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐠𝐮𝐲? 𝐇𝐞’𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮’𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐧. 𝐀𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐚𝐜𝐡 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐫𝐲 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐮𝐩 𝐚 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧.”]

The guy in question was a teenager, presumably around your age, with spiky ash blonde hair, crimson eyes, and a rather nasty expression. He was angrily chugging a can of pop, and once he was finished, made the can explode in his hands before tossing the smoking remains to the ground.

You gaped. “He just littered, but also... how did he do that? I swear I just watched him create an explosion with his bare hands.”

[“𝐏𝐞𝐨𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐬𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞 𝐩𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐬, 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐚𝐬 𝐐𝐮𝐢𝐫𝐤𝐬. 𝐇𝐢𝐬 𝐐𝐮𝐢𝐫𝐤 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐬𝐨 𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐚𝐛𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲 𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬.”]

“Wow,” you mumbled breathlessly. “Do I have a Quirk too?”

[“𝐈’𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐨𝐧𝐞. 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐚𝐛𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲 𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐦𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐟𝐮𝐧𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐮𝐧𝐢𝐪𝐮𝐞. 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐦𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐐𝐮𝐢𝐫𝐤, ��𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮’𝐝 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞. 𝐁𝐮𝐭 𝐰𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐮𝐬𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐥𝐬 𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫. 𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐧𝐨𝐰, 𝐠𝐨 𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐢𝐦.”]

“What do I say?”

[“𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐝𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐚𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐮𝐥𝐚𝐫, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐠𝐨𝐚𝐥 𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐫𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐢𝐦. 𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐧𝐨𝐰, 𝐟𝐨𝐜𝐮𝐬 𝐨𝐧 𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐜𝐪𝐮𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐮𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲, 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐭𝐨 𝐝𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐩 𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐜 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮.”]

Huh?

You could’ve sworn you misread the message. What the hell were they talking about? Why did they want you to put the moves on some person you’d only just seen for the first time in your life?

Or... was it the first time, actually? The longer you stared at this guy, the more you were starting to feel like he looked familiar somehow. But maybe that was good. Maybe that meant he could help trigger some of your memories.

The system continued to coax you.

[“𝐃𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐛𝐞 𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐨𝐮𝐬. 𝐎𝐛𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐥𝐲, 𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐟𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐢𝐧 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐲, 𝐬𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐫𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐡 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐬𝐨𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩. 𝐉𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐧. 𝐌𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐚 𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐬𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐞’𝐥𝐥 𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮.”]

You figured that would be easier said than done, but... okay. All you had to do was be friendly, you supposed. Just walk up to him and make polite conversation. Yeah. You could do this. It was going to be just fine.

Taking a deep breath, you picked up the pace and walked fast enough to match his stride. Thankfully, he was alone, which would hopefully make this whole thing a lot less awkward.

Key word being hopefully.

“Hello!”

It was the only thing you could think to say. How else were you supposed to greet a total stranger, after all?

At the sound of your voice, he turned towards you, and his brows furrowed so tight that it looked like he was about to pop a blood vessel.

“The fuck do you want?” he spat.

Oh no.

You hadn’t expected him to be so confrontational. Granted, most people would probably think it was a bit weird to be called out by a stranger, but the normal response was, “Yes?” or, “How can I help you?”

Yet this guy was glaring at you like he wanted to bash your face in, and all you’d said was one freaking word.

“H-Hello,” you said again, stuttering this time because you were nervous. “Um, I... I saw you walking by and thought you looked really cool. I’m [Name]. Would you mind giving me your number?”

Internally, you were face-palming. God, you didn’t know what the hell to say, and the fact that the system said they wanted you to make him fall for you was sending your brain for a loop. You didn’t have any memories about the person you were. Was this something you would normally say? Were you actually good at flirting, but your charisma had disappeared along with your memories?

The system seemed mildly frustrated as well.

[“𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐨𝐧 𝐚 𝐛𝐢𝐭 𝐭𝐨𝐨 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞. 𝐖𝐞𝐥𝐥, 𝐦𝐚𝐲𝐛𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭’𝐬 𝐦𝐲 𝐟𝐚𝐮𝐥𝐭. 𝐈 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝’𝐯𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐠𝐮𝐲 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐚 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐲 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐭 𝐟𝐮𝐬𝐞. 𝐎𝐡, 𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐥. 𝐋𝐞𝐭’𝐬 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐬.”]

What happened was that the guy’s scowl deepened tenfold, and on top of already being angry, he now looked considerably disgusted as well.

“Piss off, dipshit,” he snapped. “I’m not in the mood. You think I’d just give out my number to some random creep? Get lost.”

He then shoved his hands deep into his pockets and stormed off, muttering curses under his breath the whole while.

You didn’t need your memories to know that had just gone poorly.

A new message popped up, but it looked slightly different than the ones you’d been receiving thus far.

𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐒 𝐔𝐏𝐃𝐀𝐓𝐄:

[𝐁𝐚𝐤𝐮𝐠𝐨𝐮 𝐊𝐚𝐭𝐬𝐮𝐤𝐢 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮’𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐧 𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐬𝐨𝐫𝐞.]

[-𝟏𝟎 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐩𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐬.]

𝐂𝐮𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬: -𝟏𝟎/𝟏𝟎𝟎]

“Bakugou Katsuki,” you mumbled. Huh. Even his name sounded familiar, but you just couldn’t place it. You winced and clutched at your head. It had begun to throb again. You felt like you were on the cusp of remembering something, but there was some sort of wall blocking your memories and keeping them from you.

While you were busy fending off the pain, the system chimed in again.

[“𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐚 𝐟𝐚𝐢𝐥𝐮𝐫𝐞, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐝 𝐰𝐚𝐲, 𝐈 𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐬. 𝐃𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐛𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐬𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐢𝐭 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬𝐧’𝐭 𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐧 𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧. 𝐈𝐭’𝐬 𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐬 𝐟𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐢𝐧 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮. 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐟𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐢𝐧 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮. 𝐔𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐝?”]

The system didn’t have a voice, which meant that you couldn’t hear them speak, but there was something mildly threatening about the way the message was phrased.

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32 notes · View notes

sxypnk · 22 hours

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"𝐅𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝'𝐬"

You and suguru geto? Just friends? Yeah, right. You’ve had a tough crush on him since you were kids. From that first moment you saw him, you just knew.

And you thought he felt the same way, too.

𓂃 𓈒𓏸‪‪

"Hey, yn, I promise you that when we grow up, we're going to get married, alright?"

You stared at his pinky, a mix of surprise and affection swirling in your chest, your laughter filled the air, a joyful sound that made his heart race as you intertwined your pinkies.

"Okay, we will get married when we are older...and have a family!"

He grinned widely at your playful declaration, his eyes sparkling with a mix of excitement and disbelief.

"And I’ll be the best dad ever,"

𓂃 𓈒𓏸‪‪

As time passed, the bond that once brought you together began to fade, even though you maintained the same circle of friends; the connection felt more distant and less meaningful than it had in those carefree days.

One day, everything felt like it had shifted back, but in a bittersweet way; it seemed almost forbidden to still have feelings for him. Your gazes would lock more often than either of you would dare to admit, his eyes tracing your every move just as yours did for him, creating an unspoken tension that hung thick in the air.

The unspoken connection pulsed between you, an electric thrill that was both exhilarating and terrifying. Each accidental brush of hands sent shivers down your spine, igniting memories of laughter and shared secrets that lingered in your mind. You both played this intricate dance, pretending indifference while your hearts betrayed the truth—each moment together felt like a delicious temptation, reminding you of what was lost and what could still be. Despite the weight of hesitation, the desire to break the silence and reclaim what you once had grew stronger with every fleeting glance.

"Hey!" you screamed, surprised, as your arm was pulled into the shadows of a dark room.

You remained motionless as the space shrank, enveloped by the warmth of a body holding you tightly.

Your arms were tucked by your side as this warm presence enveloped you.

You were confused on who it was as you inhaled, before his familiar scent filled your senses—the fragrance of your childhood crush, your bestfriend, the man you were destined to marry.

Each breath brought with it the familiar scent of the man you once played with in sandboxes, the boy who helped patch you up after a bad fall, the one who would push you on the swing until his arms grew tired. Memories flooded back of the laughter you shared, building castles in the sand and dreaming of the future, when life felt simple and love was innocent. Could he still see you as that little girl, unencumbered and carefree, or had time reshaped everything about your connection?

“Hey, do you remember those summers we spent in the sandbox?” you asked, smiling at the thought.

“Of course,” he replied,

“You always built better castles.”

You giggled as you recalled the memories. “Yeah, and you were the one who decorated with seashells like they were treasures.”

“Well, they were. I always thought we were building something special.”

Even though it was dark and the light under the door was the only thing you could see, you met his gaze. “We did. It felt special back then.”

“Ynieee, where are you?” Gojo called out down the hall, prompting a laugh to escape your lips while you were nestled in Suguru's arms.

You were about to break free from his grip when he tightened it instead.

“Just a little longer, please,” he murmured.

Barely able to discern each other's facial features, your expression softened at his words.

Gently, you wrapped your arms around him, and as you melted into him, his tense body began to relax.

After a moment, he released you and tenderly cupped your jaw, brushing his lips against your forehead.

As he stepped into the brightness, the contrast between the shadows of the room and the sunlight illuminated the tension in his expression, revealing a flicker of uncertainty beneath his composed exterior, leaving you with a lingering sense of both intrigue and worry as he disappeared down the corridor.

As the door closed, enloping you in darkness once again, you stood there, stunned, struggling to comprehend what had just occurred. This was unprecedented; he had never even rested his arm on your shoulder before, much less embraced you.

As you processed the warmth of his touch lingering on your skin, a rush of conflicting emotions swirled inside you.

Was it merely a fleeting moment of nostalgia or something deeper rekindling? You desperately tried to shake off the thoughts of your childhood promise, the pinky swear that seemed so innocent back then, now overshadowed by the weight of unspoken feelings that had grown between you over the years.

He had always been more than just a friend, the boy who had vowed to be your future; he had captured your heart long ago. Yet, here you stood, struggling with the reality of the present, where your feelings were masked by a veneer of casual friendship.

Each minute felt like a lifetime as you replayed that embrace in your mind, the way his body felt against yours, the way his breath brushed your hair. You wondered if he could sense the same longing that you felt—a desire to bridge the gap between your past and present, to reclaim not just the laughter of the sandbox but also the spark that had flickered in the shadows. Perhaps it was time to unravel the unspoken tension and take a daring step forward, to find out if those childhood dreams could become a reality that transcended mere friendship.

#jjk #getou suguru x reader #sxypnk #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu geto #geto suguru #suguru geto #jjk suguru #jjk fluff #𝙍𝙔𝙉'𝙎 𝙒𝙊𝙍𝙆✧˚ · .

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seongwars · 2 hours

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forget me not | iv

Pairing: Jeong Yunho x witch!Reader AU: non-idol | supernatural Summary: Yunho should be happy--he's got everything going for him and he's set to marry the love of his life! So why is he standing outside of your shop on the night of his engagement party? Word Count: 7.5K (my bad) Warnings: infidelity, use of the k word

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a/n: my stitches reopened and I had to go back and get restitched 😬 so I spent all day in bed editing this chapter. i love reading everyone's theories and feedback is always welcome!

The first time Haewon saw Yunho, it was at your dorm during a study session. You were both surrounded by books, notes, and various pieces of stationary scattered across the floor. While you were focusing on writing out your note cards, Haewon was dancing around the room in an attempt to “activate her brain cells”.

She had been caught up in her own world until the sound of a knock interrupted her antics. You stood up to answer the door, and a low voice followed, mingled with a chuckle—deep, familiar, and warm.

Yunho.

He was your best friend, someone she’d heard about but hadn’t paid much attention to. But that day, something was different. He sat with a pile of books and a look of quiet concentration that intrigued her. His presence was magnetic, though subtle, and without realizing it, Haewon found herself sneaking glances at him, captivated by the calm determination in his demeanor.

She wasn’t sure when it happened exactly, but at some point, between stolen glances and shared laughter over late-night group study sessions, she started to fall for him. Yunho was kind, always the first to offer a helping hand, and his dedication to his friends and family was unwavering. He had a way of making everyone feel valued and heard.

And when he asked her to be his girlfriend, she was over the moon.

"Did you know Yunho was going to ask me out?" she beamed, her voice laced with an excitement that made your heart sink.

You froze for a second, your pencil hovering above the page. There was a flicker of something—disappointment, maybe even hurt—but you quickly swallowed it down.

"Maybe," you muttered, your voice light, almost teasing, though it took everything in you to keep it that way. Haewon didn’t see the way your grip tightened on the pencil, or how your smile didn’t quite reach your eyes.

"I can’t believe it," she gushed, oblivious to the turmoil behind your composed expression. "I mean, I’ve liked him for a while now, and I wasn’t sure if he felt the same way, but when he asked me…God, it was perfect."

"That’s great, Haewon" you said, your voice quieter than before, trying desperately to sound convincing.

You fell in love with the way Yunho truly saw you, even when you tried to hide parts of yourself. He understood you in ways no one else ever had, knowing your fears, your dreams, and all the things that made you tick. Somewhere along the line, you stopped worrying about what he would think of you because with Yunho, you never had to pretend.

That’s when you knew you loved him—because the idea of life without him didn’t feel like life at all.

But how could you tell him? You weren’t like Haewon—bold and unafraid, able to voice her feelings as if vulnerability wasn’t terrifying. She was all confidence and ease, speaking her mind without a second thought, while you were cautious, overthinking, content to blend into the background.

Telling Yunho how you felt would mean stepping into the unknown. You couldn’t bear the thought of losing him if things went wrong. So you stayed silent, burying your feelings deep, hoping that somehow, you could protect what you had by keeping your secret.

But things went wrong anyway.

You tried not to not let their relationship affect you, told yourself you were happy for them. Haewon and Yunho were two of the most important people in your life, and they deserved happiness. You repeated that to yourself like a mantra, hoping that if you said it enough, you might actually believe it.

It hurt seeing them together, knowing that while you were happy for them, you couldn’t help the ache in your chest every time Yunho laughed a little too easily at something she said, or when she rested her head on his shoulder like it was the most natural thing in the world.

The worst part was that you couldn’t even be angry. How could you? Haewon hadn’t done anything wrong; she hadn’t stolen Yunho from you, and Yunho hadn’t abandoned you. It was like watching sand slip through your fingers—nothing to hold on to, nothing you could do to stop it.

Yunho was happy, and you cared about him enough to want that for him, even if it wasn’t with you.

After you disappeared, everything fell apart in ways neither of them expected. Yunho and Haewon participated in search parties, posted on social media about your disappearance, and cooperated with law enforcement. But there were no answers, no trace of where you’d gone or why. The emptiness you left behind was palpable, a gaping hole in both their lives.

At first, Haewon believed they were grieving together. She felt the weight of your absence in every corner of her life, and Yunho, in his quiet way, did too. But then, she began to notice the way their relationship shifted.

It was subtle at first: a slight distance in Yunho’s eyes, the way he seemed preoccupied even when they were alone. He would zone out in the middle of conversations, and even when he held Haewon in his arms, his heart wasn’t fully there.

Slowly, painfully, she realized the truth. Yunho wasn’t just mourning you—he was waiting for you. He was still tethered to you, pulled by an invisible force that Haewon couldn’t compete with.

She never considered herself a mean girl. Sure, she had grown up in a comfortable world, surrounded by friends who were a little more tightly wounded and concerned with appearances. But now, standing on the other side of it, Haewon could see the truth for what it was. Yunho was never really hers to begin with. She hadn’t stolen him—not intentionally—but she had taken something that was never really hers to claim.

Then there was Sungjae.

Sungjae had never been a close friend, not really. He was more of a background figure—someone on the outskirts of Haewon’s social circle who, little by little, had weaseled his way in. He was everything Yunho wasn’t: impulsive, flirtatious, unpredictable. And it was those very qualities that ignited something in her.

The affair began quietly, like a secret Haewon wasn’t ready to admit even to herself. It started innocently enough—casual conversations, coffee outings after shared classes. They’d stay up late in the library, long after everyone else had left, talking about things that felt too personal, too vulnerable to share with anyone else. Haewon convinced herself it was nothing more than a close friendship—after all, she had a large circle of friends. What harm could one more friend do?

As time passed, the line between friendship and something more blurred. In the quiet moments following your disappearance, Haewon found herself relying on Sungjae in ways she hadn’t with Yunho in years. He became her anchor when the world felt uncertain, someone who made her feel alive and seen.

At first, it was easy to justify: she and Yunho had been drifting apart. Haewon had noticed it in the way their conversations had become shorter, less meaningful; the way they sat together in silence more often than not, the air between them filled with unspoken tension.

But there was also something darker about Sungjae—something tied to the past Haewon desperately tried to forget. The night you disappeared, Sungjae had humiliated you, his cruel words cutting through the air as everyone watched in uncomfortable silence. And Haewon had stood by, doing nothing. She had stayed silent, too afraid to confront him, too indifferent to speak up.

Yunho had done nothing, either. His usual kind, gentle demeanor had turned into passive inaction, making excuses whenever Haewon brought up the topic like "It's just a phase" or "They’ll work it out."

“Do you think Sungjae had something to do with Y/N’s disappearance?” Haewon suddenly blurted out as the two were cooking dinner.

Yunho froze, his jaw tightening. He knew the answer—he had always known. The last time anyone had seen you was when you stormed out of the apartment, cheeks flushed with shame and frustration. And yet, Yunho couldn’t admit it out loud. Admitting that Sungjae was responsible meant confronting his own failure, his own role in pushing you away.

“If he did,” Yunho said, his voice low, a dangerous edge creeping in, “I’ll kill him myself.”

“But you were the last one who saw her.”

His entire body tensed, the weight of Haewon’s accusation hitting him harder than he expected. He turned to face her fully, eyes dark and cold.

“You think I had something to do with Y/N’s disappearance?” His voice was low, hurt and anger threading through each word. He could feel the bile rising in his chest, burning with the injustice of her suspicion.

“That’s not what I said—”

“But it’s what you meant.” Yunho cut her off. “You think I’m the reason she’s gone?”

“I’m just trying to figure out what happened,” she murmured, her voice softer now, though the accusation still lingered between them.

“All I did was walk her out, and the CCTV proved that! You have no idea how much Y/N’s disappearance is affecting me! But to even suggest that I could’ve done something…” His voice trailed off, swallowed by a surge of emotion.

“I can’t do this,” Yunho muttered, his voice barely audible now as he turned away from her. Grabbing his jacket off the chair, he headed for the door, his movements tense and deliberate. “I’m done with this conversation.”

His footsteps faltered just before reaching the door, the frustration inside him boiling over. He spun back to face Haewon, his voice sharp and biting.

“Every time it comes to Sungjae, you choose him. Why?”

“I–” Haewon’s voice cracked, but Yunho didn’t stop. The door clicked shut behind him, leaving a deafening silence in his wake.

Haewon knew it wasn’t fair to keep dragging him along when her heart was no longer fully his. But the thought of actually leaving—the finality of it—terrified her. The knowledge that once she walked away, there would be no going back was something she wasn’t sure she could handle.

And then Yunho proposed.

It caught her completely off guard—a moment she hadn’t prepared for despite all her doubts and uncertainty. She hadn’t expected him to propose, not now. But instead of facing the truth, instead of admitting that her heart had drifted away and she was entangled in an affair with someone else, Haewon did the only thing she could think of: she convinced herself that accepting Yunho’s proposal would fix everything.

Haewon felt trapped. She felt the walls closing in, suffocating her as she tried to play the part of the happy fiancée. On the night of the engagement party, everyone around them was celebrating, toasting to their future, but all she could think about was how wrong it all felt. Her heart wasn’t in it—not fully—and she knew it.

The alcohol didn’t help. Glass after glass, Haewon drank to drown out the noise in her head, to silence the guilt and doubt. She wanted to forget, to numb herself to everything, but instead, it only made her feel more exposed.

She avoided Yunho most of the night, choosing instead to party with her friends, laughing too loudly, her smile brittle around the edges. Yunho tried to get her to slow down, to pull her back to him, to hold her close, but every time he did, it felt like the air was being sucked out of her lungs. It wasn’t his fault, but being near him only made the weight of her choices heavier.

Finally, something inside her snapped. Right there, in front of everyone. The frustration, the guilt, the suffocating pressure of pretending—it all came to the surface. She knew it was unfair, that Yunho didn’t deserve it, but she couldn’t stop the words from spilling out.

Now, as she laid in bed next to Sungjae, the weight of her betrayal closed in on her. The wedding was fast approaching, a date circled on the calendar like a death sentence, and there was no backing out now. The dress had been chosen, the invitations sent. Everyone was expecting a celebration, but all Haewon could feel was dread.

Yunho had betrayed you too, hadn’t he? He had stood on the sidelines, just as complicit, watching as Sungjae’s cruelty unraveled you. And yet, he had stayed—stayed with her, proposed to her, tried to build a future with her. It was laughable.

The two of them, pretending like they could escape what they’d done, like they could forge something real out of ashes. But the truth had always been there, lurking beneath the surface.

They were no better than the man lying next to her now.

Perhaps this was what she and Yunho both deserved—two people who had betrayed you, condemned to a life of misery together.

Life in the Emporium was nothing short of magical surprises.

Each day began with a quiet ritual, a moment of calm before the shop's unique energy fully awoke. The first thing you’d do each morning was reach for the incense—carefully selected for its cleansing properties—and light it. As the fragrant smoke curled into the air, it seemed to reset the entire space, gently sweeping away the lingering energies left behind by the previous day’s visitors.

Above, the flowers in the hanging garden stirred with the first touch of morning light, their vibrant petals responding as if in greeting. You watered them with a flick of the wrist, though it felt more like a gesture of care than necessity—they thrived on the shop's magic more than on water.

The shop had its own rhythm, a delicate balance between the mundane and the mystical. Travelers, clients, and even the occasional spirit wandered in, drawn by the promise of wishes granted—some simple, others far more complicated. You had seen all kinds: the weary traveler who just wanted safe passage home, the desperate lover seeking a second chance, or the ambitious merchant hoping to change their fortune.

But nothing in the emporium was granted without a cost, and the price wasn’t paid in gold or silver. Every transaction required something far more precious—a wish. Not the kind made on a whim, but a deeply held desire, pulled from the very core of one’s soul.

You would watch as they approached the counter, hands trembling ever so slightly as they revealed their request. Their eyes flickered with doubt as the weight of the exchange settled upon them. Standing before you, they were caught between what they needed and what they were about to give up, realizing that their wish, once surrendered, would be gone forever.

You always asked if they were certain. If they understood the nature of their sacrifice. But the emporium never rejected a payment once it was offered.

You had become accustomed to the shop’s quirks, trusting its ancient magic to maintain a balance that you could only partly comprehend. It was more than a shop; it was a living entity, guiding not only the customers but you, its keeper, shaping the course of both your lives in subtle, unseen ways.

Everything functioned smoothly, like clockwork—until the day Yunho arrived.

From the moment Yunho stepped into the emporium, his presence unsettled you. There was a calm assurance in the way he carried himself, grounding everything around you. Despite never having met him before, something inside you insisted Yunho wasn’t a stranger.

You recalled the strange memories that had flooded your senses—the wind whipping around you as you sat in a car with Yunho, the sun illuminating the way the corner of his eyes crinkled when he smiled. It felt so real, as if you’d lived that moment before, but then it dissolved into something deeper, something raw.

The emotions had gripped you before you could react, dragging you under like a riptide. Your knees buckled, and the world tilted, leaving you gasping for air. Yunho was there, of course. Even through the thick haze of your feelings, he kept you steady, his arms the only thing keeping you from crumbling completely.

Even now, the echoes of that moment lingered in your body. You could still feel the weight of the emotions that had passed through you, as if the magic had left an imprint on your soul.

“Fate has already tied their threads together.”

Your mind raced, trying to grasp Hongjoong and Wooyoung’s conversation.

What did that mean? What threads? Could the connection you felt—this strange, undeniable pull—be part of some cosmic plan, one that had existed long before you even stepped foot in the emporium?

But how could you accept something so profound when you couldn’t even remember him? The thought haunted you, and yet, deep down, the pull toward Yunho only grew stronger, as if Fate itself refused to let you walk away.

You sighed, taking a long drag from your pipe, leaning back as you watched a few late summer blooms drift down from the skylight’s hanging garden. Their petals fluttered like tiny omens in the gentle breeze. Fall had arrived, and with the change in seasons, the line between the living and the departed would thin, bringing even more travelers and clients from different realms.

The bell above the door jingled faintly, drawing your attention. You glanced over, catching the sleek, shadowy form slipping through the crack in the door—a flash of fur before it darted out into the evening. You immediately knew who it was.

“Wooyoung,” you called out. The cat froze mid-step, his tail twitching with surprise. Slowly, he turned his head, his onyx eyes gleaming mischievously in the dim light.

“Don’t even try it,” you added, placing your hands on your hips. He blinked at you, feigning innocence, but you weren’t about to let him slink away without answers this time.

The cat stretched lazily, as if he hadn’t just been caught trying to sneak out, then padded toward you with that familiar, too-casual saunter. By the time he reached you, he shifted back into his human form with a dramatic sigh, ruffling his messy hair as if you’d truly inconvenienced him.

“I was just stepping out,” Wooyoung said, giving you that infuriating smirk of his. “Needed some air. It’s stuffy in here with all this—" He waved his hand around vaguely, “—magic.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle at the absurdity of it. “You are magic, Wooyoung.” Your tone was teasing, playful. “Haven’t you had enough of the outside world and tormenting humans for one lifetime?”

“I’m a cat. Gotta see what the world’s up to,” he shrugged.

There was a beat of silence, and you took a breath before speaking. “I heard your conversation with Hongjoong last night.”

Wooyoung froze for the briefest moment, his eyes widening just slightly before he masked it with another lazy grin. The shift in his demeanor was quick, but you’d known him long enough to recognize the flicker of panic he tried to bury.

"It’s not polite to eavesdrop," he teased, his voice light but edged with a subtle wariness.

You weren’t about to let him wiggle his way out of this one. You had seen the way he was squirming, avoiding the real issue, and this time you needed answers.

"What does fate have to do with me and Yunho?"

His smile faltered, a crack in his usual carefree facade. Wooyoung shifted uneasily, searching for the right words to soften the blow, but knowing there was no easy way out. He could feel your frustration mounting, the tension stretching unbearably thin.

"It’s... well, it’s like this," His voice lowered, and for once, he sounded serious. "Hongjoong thinks you and Yunho are bound together in ways that we don’t fully understand. It’s something that’s deeper and older…something that humans refer to as soulmates."

Soulmates.

It sounded ridiculous, unbelievable. You and Yunho, tied together by fate? He was just a traveler, someone the shop had revealed itself to. There was nothing special about him.

"How?" you scoffed, shaking your head as if the mere action would dispel the ridiculous notion. "He’s a stranger, Wooyoung.”

Wooyoung shook his head, his eyes never leaving yours. He shifted uncomfortably, looking anywhere but at you.

"Well… the thing is you have met him before.” But the thing is... you don’t remember. Because you can’t, Wooyoung wanted to say.

"What are you talking about? Then why can’t I remember him? What did I forget?"

Your chest tightened. The frustration, the confusion, the pull you’d felt around Yunho ever since he first entered the shop—it all started to transform into something deeper, something more unsettling. It was as if a fog was lifting, revealing shadows of memories you couldn’t quite grasp.

He let out a long breath, rubbing his face. "It’s complicated. There are things...about you, that you don’t remember. That you chose not to remember."

Your mind raced. Memories? With Yunho? The man you barely knew, who had walked into your life like any other traveler? It didn’t make sense. None of this did.

"If I erased him from my life, then maybe I had a reason," you snapped, the words tasting bitter. Wooyoung winced but didn’t argue.

"Fate doesn’t just disappear because you forget. He’s still tied to you, even if you can’t feel it." He paused, his eyes searching your face, hoping for some sign of understanding. "Maybe it’s why the shop revealed itself to him. It’s fate, pulling you back together."

You could feel the ground slipping from beneath you, your grip on reality loosening with every word he spoke. What Wooyoung was suggesting—soulmates, forgotten love, fate—it sounded like something out of a dream, a fantasy too far removed from the life you knew.

"Why does it matter if I’m connected to him or not?" you continued, your throat tightening as the question lodged itself there, too painful to speak.

The air grew heavy, thick with tension, as if the walls themselves were reacting to the storm brewing inside you. The shelves rattled, and the shop’s energy pulsed erratically, reflecting the confusion and fear you could no longer keep at bay. The lanterns flickered wildly, casting frantic shadows that danced along the walls, twisting in the growing unease.

You tried to steady your breathing, to calm the chaos within, but your mind raced with unanswered questions, with the gnawing suspicion that Wooyoung was right, and it terrified you.

Wooyoung’s face fell, the spark of his usual wit dimming into something darker, something almost sorrowful. He shifted uncomfortably again, as though he wished to be anywhere but here, at this moment.

"Because no one wants to see you hurting, Y/N,” His voice was barely above a whisper, thick with regret. "You were in so much pain that you thought forgetting him and becoming the keeper would make it stop."

That name again. Y/N. It echoed in your mind, a foreign weight on your chest. It felt like a name you should know, but it slipped through your grasp. A name tied to a life you no longer remembered.

"That toy," he continued, "it triggered something, didn’t it? The memories—the emotions—they were too strong. And when you felt that, your magic went unstable. The shop could barely handle it."

You shuddered, the memory of that moment still fresh, still raw. But one question clawed at you, louder than the chaos you’d unleashed.

What had been so unbearable that the only answer was to forget?

“Why is it so cold?” you groaned, bouncing on your toes and rubbing your hands together, trying to get the blood flowing.

The train station was always drafty, but today it felt like the cold had settled into your bones, refusing to leave. You shivered and glanced around, surprised to see no snow on the ground. It was odd—this time of year usually meant blankets of white everywhere, the world covered in a quiet stillness. Yet now, all you had was the biting wind and a gray sky threatening snow that never seemed to come.

Yunho stood beside you, his breath puffing out in small clouds as he huddled deeper into his coat. He laughed softly, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he looked at you.

“You’re always cold,” he teased, nudging your arm with his elbow. “Should’ve worn more layers.”

“Easy for you to say. You’re practically a furnace,” you grumbled.

The two of you had decided to take the train home for the holidays after your first semester of university. You were both exhausted—finals had drained whatever energy you had left—but there was excitement in the air as Christmas approached.

“I’m surprised there’s no snow,” you mused, gazing up at the dull, overcast sky. The clouds hung low, thick and heavy, but still no sign of snowflakes falling. “Feels weird, doesn’t it? Christmas without snow.”

Yunho hummed in agreement beside you, his hands tucked into the pockets of his coat as he followed your gaze. “Yeah, it’s like something’s missing. Hopefully, it’ll snow while we’re home.”

His voice was hopeful, and you could see the small spark of excitement in his eyes. Yunho loved snow—it wasn’t just the beauty of it, but the way it brought a sense of stillness and magic to the world. The kind of magic that reminded you both of simpler times, of building snowmen as kids and staying out too long until your fingers were numb.

The next morning, Yunho’s wish came true.

Snow. Fresh, untouched snow covered everything. The rooftops, the streets, the trees—it all glistened under the early morning light, as if the entire world had been dipped in magic overnight.

This was the moment he’d been waiting for, the moment he hoped for when you both had been standing at the train station, wondering if Christmas would even feel like Christmas without snow. Now, it was here. His wish had come true.

But more than that, he wanted to share this moment with you.

You blinked up at the sky, a few lazy snowflakes still drifting down, landing on your lashes and melting against your skin. Yunho stood beside you, watching the way your eyes lit up, the way you took in the moment like it was something precious.

The two of you stood there for a while, wordlessly watching the snowfall together. It was the kind of stillness that felt sacred, the kind that only came with the first snow of the season.

As Yunho glanced at you, his breath caught. You weren’t doing anything special—just standing there, bundled up in your oversized hoodie, your hair slightly messy from sleep, your cheeks flushed from the cold. You weren’t trying to impress anyone, least of all him. You were just you, in the most effortless way, and somehow, that had always been enough.

There was a simplicity to the moment that felt different, more profound than he expected. Last summer, when you’d spent long, sunny days together, he’d thought he understood what he felt for you. He cared about you more than anyone, maybe more than he should’ve let on. It was a love that had grown quietly, steadily, and was beginning to envelop him.

It was too easy to love you. Too effortless, too natural, as if his heart had always been meant for you. And that’s what made it so dangerous.

He knew that sometimes, love—no matter how powerful—wasn’t enough. The thought of risking what you had—this simple, effortless connection that meant everything to him—for something as unpredictable as love felt like falling into the ocean.

And Yunho wasn’t ready to make the jump.

He groaned, pressing the heels of his hands against his temples as if that could somehow ease the pounding in his skull. His head felt like it was being split open, a dull, relentless ache that refused to let up. The events of the previous night were a blur—fragments of conversation, too many drinks, and the sinking realization that he’d gone well past his limit.

He’s supposed to head back to Seoul today, back to his life and the steady rhythm of work that usually kept his life in order. But there was no way he could face that right now, not with the amount of alcohol that had been consumed.

The events of last night came back to him in disjointed, hazy flashes. He remembered the way your fingers brushed against the plush toy, followed by the sudden paling of your face right before you collapsed to the floor.

Yunho’s heart had nearly stopped at that moment, the world around him crashing into stillness. The usual hum of the emporium faded into nothing, the vibrant colors of the shelves and strange objects blurring into meaningless shapes.

His legs moved before his mind could catch up, and he was running, sprinting toward you as if the very air had been torn from his lungs. The world shrank, narrowing to the sight of you lifeless in his arms.

"Y/N, stay with me," he whispered, panic thick in his voice as he cradled your unconscious body. It was the same terror he’d felt the day you disappeared, the same helpless, gut-wrenching fear that had kept him awake at night, haunted by the thought that he’d never see you again.

Yunho held you like his entire world depended on it, his arms wrapped tightly around you, desperate and unrelenting. He pressed his forehead against yours, as he cradled your head against his chest, the warmth of your skin barely noticeable as panic surged inside him.

“I’m sorry, just please, please don’t leave me,” he begged, his voice barely holding together. His fingers tightened their grip on you, trembling with the fear that if he let go, even for a second, you’d slip away for good.

He couldn’t lose you, not when he had just found you again.

Then came Wooyoung’s revelation. You had chosen to disappear from his life. It wasn’t an accident, or some cruel twist of fate. You had asked the shop to erase your memories—all of them. He could still hear Wooyoung’s voice, bitter and sharp, recounting the details, but the exact reason why Wooyoung had been so angry at him was lost in the fog of the night.

He remembered the sting—the way the door slammed behind him, the coldness of the night hitting his face as he stood there, dazed, confused and frustrated. You were alive, bound to this strange realm by forces he didn’t fully understand. But worse than that, you had willingly cut him out of your life.

After that, things blurred even more. He’d ended up at a bar, the numbness setting in as he ordered drink after drink, trying to drown the sea of emotions that threatened to consume him. Somewhere along the way, Yeosang had joined him, and Yunho found himself pouring his heart out—his frustrations, his guilt, his failures. He had ranted about the weight of trying to be the good guy while everything around him crumbled.

Now, in the harsh light of day, the weight of it all hit him with a different kind of intensity. His heart felt heavy, and he had no idea where to go from here.

Yunho sat up, staring at his phone as if it might give him the answers he was too afraid to ask for. His thumb hovered over Haewon’s name on the screen, trembling slightly. He wasn’t sure what he was going to say—he didn’t have a plan, only a sinking feeling in his chest that told him he couldn’t keep pretending everything was fine.

The line rang once, then twice. By the third ring, his heart had started racing, the weight of everything he had to confront pressing down on him like a vice. When it went to voicemail, Yunho’s stomach dropped.

“Hey, it’s Haewon! Sorry I missed your call, but leave a message and I’ll get back to you soon!”

The artificial cheer in her voice made his skin crawl, and for a moment, he couldn’t speak. He could almost picture her—smiling, carefree, the version of her that had loved him wholeheartedly. But that wasn’t who she was anymore. That wasn’t who they were.

"Hey..." he finally whispered, “give me a call when you get a chance.” Yunho waited for a beat, as if hoping she might pick up at the last second, but the line remained silent, empty.

“Yunho? Aren’t you getting ready to head back?” His mom’s voice was gentle, but it startled him from his thoughts. She appeared in the doorway, concern etched in the lines of her face.

He didn’t respond immediately, his gaze dropping to the floor. “I don’t know if I’m going back,” he admitted softly, his voice thick with uncertainty.

His mom walked in, taking a seat on the edge of his bed, her presence warm and calming. She had always been able to read him better than anyone, even when he was trying his best to hide. Mrs. Jeong didn’t say anything for a moment, just letting the silence hang between them, giving him the space to breathe.

“Tell me more.”

Yunho sighed, running a hand through his hair, feeling the weight of everything he’d been holding in. It was strange—he felt like a teenager again, venting to his mom about his problems, but this time it felt more suffocating. The future he had thought he wanted, the life he had worked so hard to build, no longer felt like his.

“I’m hungover. I’m miserable. I don’t want to marry Haewon. I’m not happy with my job or where I am in my life. Mingi is my only friend, Yeosang kind of hates me, and Y/N…” He let out a watery chuckle, the sound laced with bitterness. “She’s gone.”

There it was, the truth laid bare—the reality that had been gnawing at him for months, too terrifying to confront. The words hung in the air, heavy with the weight of everything he had been trying to ignore.

Mrs. Jeong’s gaze softened as she listened, her heart heavy with a mother’s instinct to protect, but knowing she couldn’t fix this for him. She reached out, placing a hand over his.

“You’ve been carrying this for a while, haven’t you?” Her voice was soft, laced with a sadness that only came from witnessing the quiet battles of someone you love.

Yunho looked down to their joined hands, his throat tightening. The words he had held back for so long hovered on the edge of his lips, threatening to escape.

“I thought I could handle it. But—" He paused, his fingers gripping hers a little tighter, his chest heaving as he fought to keep the floodgates closed.

"I don’t want to keep pretending I’m okay,” he continued, voice cracking slightly. “I’m tired, Mom. Of the job, the engagement, everything. It’s like I’m suffocating, and I don’t know how to breathe anymore.” he replied, quieter now, almost like he was talking to himself. It was the first time he’d admitted it out loud. The fear that had been chaining him to a future he didn’t want.

His mother exhaled softly, her brow furrowing as she absorbed his words. After a moment, she squeezed his hand and spoke gently, her voice calm but firm.

“You’ve always been so considerate. Always thinking of others. But have you thought about what you want? Truly want, not just what you think you should want?”

It wasn’t something Yunho had ever allowed himself to consider fully, and even now, the thought seemed almost too outlandish, too selfish. But the way his mother looked at him, with such understanding, made it feel less frightening, less impossible to confront.

“You’re allowed to want something different, Yunho. You’re allowed to change your mind. You’re allowed to choose yourself.”

Her words struck something within him, unraveling the tightly wound rope of expectations he had tangled himself in for so long. He hesitated, his heart pounding as he dared to voice the question that had haunted him for months.

“So you wouldn’t be upset if I called off the wedding?” His voice was small, almost as if he were afraid the very mention of it might cause everything to collapse around him.

His mother shook her head, her expression soft and reassuring. “Of course not, Yunho. Haewon is lovely, but…” She paused, choosing her words carefully, as she looked at him. “I always felt like she wasn’t the one for you.”

Yunho blinked, surprised by the admission. His mother had never said anything like that before, and in all their talks about the wedding, she had always been supportive, never giving any sign that she might have doubts of her own.

“Why didn’t you ever say anything?” he asked, almost incredulous.

“Because you’re finally listening to yourself. This is your life, not mine, not anyone else’s. It wasn’t my place to tell you how to live, Yunho. I wanted to believe that you knew what was best for you.”

“And if I quit my job?” he asked, testing the waters, anxiety sparking in his voice.

“Gunho would be thrilled,” she laughed. “You know, he was absolutely livid when you took the finance job over the Tigers. I’ve never seen him so upset with you! He ranted for weeks about how you were wasting your talents behind a desk instead of being out there building the ultimate dream team.”

His mother’s laughter faded, replaced by a more serious expression. “We’ve all had our hopes for you, Yunho. But those were our hopes, not yours. Life’s not a straight line. It’s full of twists and turns. You don’t have to stay on a path that doesn’t feel right anymore.”

There was something comforting about the idea, the notion of stepping away from the path he had chosen, back to something that felt more like home—more like himself. Sitting with his mother, he began to wonder: What if it wasn’t reckless? What if choosing the life he truly wanted wasn’t some wild, selfish fantasy? What if it was okay to dream again?

His mind wandered to you, to the quiet snowfall and how the snowflakes caught on your lashes. He thought of that summer, driving to the beach, the wind in your hair and the sun beaming down on you, like the world itself couldn’t touch you as long as you were together.

He thought of meeting you for the first time at six years old, running across the street and greeting you as if he’d known him your entire life. It was as if he’d found his other half that day, the person who made him feel complete even in his innocence.

But then, more painfully, he thought of meeting you for the first time again. Only this time, you hadn’t known him at all.

With you, there was no need to fill the silence. Everything felt easy, natural, like you were meant to exist beside each other. You were his best friend, the one person who made him feel like himself. And suddenly, Yunho knew.

It was you.

The version of himself that existed when he was with you—that was who he truly was. It was a terrifying realization, but at the same time, it was the most certain thing he’d felt in a long time. You had always been the one constant in his life, the one person who made everything feel okay, even when it wasn’t.

And he didn’t want to lose that. He didn’t want to lose you.

He wanted a future with you.

Yunho swallowed, his pulse quickening, but for the first time in what felt like forever, his mind was clear.

“I think…” he began, his voice steady, resolute, “I know where I want to go from here.”

Pushing open the door, the familiar chime rang through the shop. It was empty, save for you, and Yunho’s breath caught when he saw you standing behind the counter, bathed in the glow of fading daylight.

He glanced over at you, watching the way you moved, how you seemed so different and yet so familiar. The person standing in front of him was still you, the same person he’d known since childhood. The memories from childhood rushed back again—the snow, the summer sun, the first time you played baseball together. It all made sense now, in ways it never had before.

“Yunho,” you greeted, your voice carrying a warmth as you lifted your hand with a graceful flick. The scroll hovering beside you shimmered for a moment, then dissolved into the air, disappearing as if it had never existed.

“How are you feeling?” Yunho asked quietly. There was something boyish, almost shy, in the way he looked at you, like he was a kid again, standing in front of his crush, hoping for something, anything, that would tell him he was making the right choice.

“Better. Thank you for being here the other night. It seems like you were a big help to Wooyoung.”

"I'm glad to hear that," he murmured, his voice soft as his gaze lingered on you, his eyes softening as if he were seeing you for the first time all over again. There was a quiet admiration that he couldn’t quite hide, no matter how hard he tried to keep his emotions in check.

"I uh…" he hesitated, his eyes flickered away for a moment, as if searching for courage in the silence between you, “I’m leaving for Seoul. Just to take care of some things. I wanted to see you before I left.”

You tilted your head, curiosity lighting up your eyes, the corners of your lips lifting in that familiar way that made his heart stutter. A playful yet gentle hum escaped your lips.

“Oh? And why’s that?”

Your question hung in the air, teasing him, pulling at the tangled mess of feelings he'd tried to bury for so long. He looked at you, a faint flush creeping up his neck as he struggled to find the right response.

“I—” he started, but his voice faltered. His pulse quickened, and for a moment, he felt completely exposed. “I couldn’t leave without seeing you first.”

The air around you seemed to still, the gravity of his admission settling like dust in the corners of the emporium. The idea of leaving felt wrong to him, and yet it was inevitable, something he had to do.

Your eyes softened with understanding, feeling more like home than any place he could go. Something in your gaze recognized him, sensing the invisible thread that tied you together.

“No matter where you are,” you said quietly, your voice carrying the same calm assurance that had always soothed him, “the Emporium will always be within reach. As will I.”

The words were simple, yet they held a promise—a promise that went beyond physical space or memory. The Emporium was never bound by the ordinary rules of the world, and neither, it seemed, were you. Your small, understanding smile made Yunho feel that, despite the uncertainty, everything would be okay.

“Besides,” you continued, a playful glint flickering in your eyes, “I can always ask Wooyoung to lend a helping hand. He knows the way.”

“That cat does nothing but bully me,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck, recalling how Wooyoung had made him a target of mischief.

Your laugh filled the space between you, a sound that seemed to chase away the heaviness for just a moment. Though Yunho tried to maintain his frown, the corners of his lips betrayed him, lifting into a reluctant smile.

Even though you didn’t remember him, it didn’t matter. There was something deeper between you, something unshakeable. And that, in its own way, gave him the strength he needed to leave.

You stepped forward, that invisible thread that had always seemed to exist between you tugged at your heart, drawing you toward him. It was a connection that transcended words, possibly even space and time. Yunho’s eyes lingered on you, their quiet intensity making your heart skip a beat.

“The next time I come into the shop,” he began, his voice low, “I’ll be ready to make my wish.”

You searched his face, trying to read the depths of what he meant, but all you found was that same gentle fervor staring back at you.

“You’ve thought about it?”

“I have,” he admitted. “With everything that’s happening, I think I finally know what I want.”

The weight of his words settled between you like a promise. Whatever his wish was, it wasn’t something to be rushed—it belonged to the future, a time when he was ready to claim it. And somehow, you understood that.

“I’ll be waiting,” you whispered, though you knew Yunho heard it.

As he turned to leave, a sudden thought gripped you, pulling you back from the brink of your goodbye. “Yunho… before you leave…”

He froze at the sound of his name on your lips, his heart fluttering. Every breath, every glance, vibrated with something unspoken, something powerful.

“Who are you?” you asked, your voice soft, tentative. “To me?”

<< iii | v >>

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